Complete. Murphy’s translation.

THE WHOLE vast country of Germany is separated from Gaul, from Rhætia and Pannonia, by the Rhine and the Danube; from Dacia and Sarmatia, by a chain of mountains, and where the mountains subside, mutual dread forms a sufficient barrier. The rest is bounded by the ocean, embracing in its depth of water several spacious bays, and islands of prodigious extent, whose kings and people are now, in some measure, known to us, the progress of our arms having made recent discoveries. The Rhine has its source on the steep and lofty summit of the Rhætian Alps, from which it precipitates itself, and, after winding towards the west, directs its course through a long tract of country, and falls into the Northern Ocean. The Danube, gushing down the soft and gentle declivity of the mountain Abnoba, visits several nations in its progress, and at last through six channels (the seventh is absorbed in fens and marshes), discharges itself into the Pontic Sea.

  The Germans, there is reason to think, are an indigenous race, the original natives of the country, without any intermixture of adventitious settlers from other nations. In the early ages of the world, the adventurers, who issued forth in quest of new habitations, did not traverse extensive tracts of land; the first migrations were made by sea. Even at this day the Northern Ocean vast and boundless, and, as I may say, always at enmity with mariners, is seldom navigated by ships from our quarter of the world. Putting the dangers of a turbulent and unknown sea out of the case, who would leave the softer climes of Asia, Africa, or Italy, to fix his abode in Germany, where nature offers nothing but scenes of deformity; where the inclemency of the seasons never relents; where the land presents a dreary region, without form or culture, and, if we except the affection of a native for his mother country, without an allurement to make life supportable? In old songs and ballads, the only memorials of antiquity amongst them, the god Tuisto, who was born of the Earth, and Mannus, his son, are celebrated as the founders of the German race. Mannus, it is said, had three sons, from whom the Ingævones, who border on the seacoast; the Hermiones, who inhabit the midland country; and the Istævones, who occupy the remaining tract, have all respectively derived their names. Some, indeed, taking advantage of the obscurity that hangs over remote and fabulous ages, ascribe to the god Tuisto a more numerous issue, and thence trace the names of various tribes, such as the Marsians, the Gambrivians, the Suevians, and the Vandals. The ancient date and authenticity of those names are, as they contend, clearly ascertained. The word “Germany” is held to be of modern addition. In support of this hypothesis, they tell us that the people who first passed the Rhine and took possession of a canton in Gaul, though known at present by the name of Tungrians, were, in that expedition, called Germans, and thence the title assumed by a band of emigrants, in order to spread a general terror in their progress, extended itself by degrees, and became, in time, the appellation of a whole people. They have a current tradition that Hercules visited those parts. When rushing to battle, they sing in preference to all other heroes the praises of that ancient worthy.

  The Germans abound with rude strains of verse, the reciters of which, in the language of the country, are called Bards. With this barbarous poetry they inflame their minds with ardor in the day of action, and prognosticate the event from the impression which it happens to make on the minds of the soldiers, who grow terrible to the enemy, or despair of success, as the war song produces an animated or a feeble sound. Nor can their manner of chanting this savage prelude be called the tone of human organs: it is rather a furious uproar; a wild chorus of military virtue. The vociferation used upon these occasions is uncouth and harsh, at intervals interrupted by the application of their bucklers to their mouths, and by the repercussion bursting out with redoubled force. An opinion prevails among them, that Ulysses, in the course of those wanderings, which are so famous in poetic story, was driven into the Northern Ocean, and that, having penetrated into the country, he built, on the banks of the Rhine, the city of Asciburgium, which is inhabited at this day, and still retains the name given originally by the founder. It is further added that an altar dedicated to Ulysses, with the name of Laertes, his father, engraved upon it, was formerly discovered at Asciburgium. Mention is likewise made of certain monuments and tombstones, still to be seen on the confines of Germany and Rhætia, with epitaphs, or inscriptions, in Greek characters. But these assertions it is not my intention either to establish or refute; the reader will yield or withhold his assent, according to his judgment or his fancy.

  I have already acceded to the opinion of those who think that the Germans have hitherto subsisted without intermarrying with other nations, a pure, unmixed, and independent race, unlike any other people, all bearing the marks of a distinct national character. Hence, what is very remarkable in such prodigious numbers, a family likeness throughout the nation; the same form and feature, stern blue eyes, ruddy hair, their bodies large and robust, but powerful only in sudden efforts. They are impatient of toil and labor; thirst and heat overcome them; but, from the nature of their soil and climate, they are proof against cold and hunger.

  The face of the country, though in some parts varied, presents a cheerless scene, covered with the gloom of forests, or deformed with wide extended marshes; towards the boundaries of Gaul, moist and swampy; on the side of Noricum and Pannonia, more exposed to the fury of the winds. Vegetation thrives with sufficient vigor. The soil produces grain, but is unkind to fruit trees; well stocked with cattle, but of an undersize, and deprived by nature of the usual growth and ornament of the head. The pride of a German consists in the number of his flocks and herds; they are his only riches, and in these he places his chief delight. Gold and silver are withheld from them. Is it by the favor or the wrath of heaven? I do not mean to assert, however, that in Germany there are no veins of precious ore; for who has been a miner in those regions? Certain it is they do not enjoy the possession and use of those metals with our sensibility. There are, indeed, silver vessels to be seen amongst them, but they were presents to their chiefs or ambassadors; the Germans regard them in no better light than common earthenware. It is, however, observable that near the borders of the empire, the inhabitants set a value upon gold and silver, finding them subservient to the purposes of commerce. The Roman coin is known in those parts, and some of our specie is not only current, but in request. In places more remote, the simplicity of ancient manners still prevails: commutation of property is their only traffic. Where money passes in the way of barter, our old coin is the most acceptable, particularly that which is indented at the edge, or stamped with the impression of a chariot and two horses, called the serrati and bigati. Silver is preferred to gold, not from caprice or fancy, but because the inferior metal is of more expeditious use in the purchase of low-priced commodities.

  Iron does not abound in Germany, if we may judge from the weapons in general use. Swords and large lances are seldom seen. The soldier grasps his javelin, or, as it is called in their language, his Fram; an instrument tipped with a short and narrow piece of iron, sharply pointed, and so commodious that, as occasion requires, he can manage it in close engagement, or in distant combat. With this and a shield the cavalry is completely armed. The infantry have an addition of missive weapons. Each man carries a considerable number, and, being naked, or, at least, not encumbered by his light mantle, he throws his weapon to a distance almost incredible. A German has no attention to the ornament of his person; his shield is the object of his care, and this he decorates with the liveliest colors. Breastplates are uncommon. In a whole army you will not see more than one or two helmets. Their horses have neither swiftness nor elegance of shape, nor are they trained to the various evolutions of the Roman cavalry. To advance in a direct line, or wheel suddenly to the right, is the whole of their skill, and this they perform in so compact a body, that no one is thrown out of his rank. According to the best estimate, the infantry form the national strength, and, for that reason, always fight intermixed with the cavalry. The flower of their youth, able by their vigor and activity to keep pace with the movements of the horse, are selected for this purpose, and placed in the front of the lines. The number of these is fixed and certain: each canton sends a hundred, from that circumstance called “Hundredors” by the army. The name was at first numerical only; it is now a title of honor. Their order of battle presents the form of a wedge. To give ground in the heat of action, provided you return to the charge, is military skill, not fear or cowardice. In the most fierce and obstinate engagement, even when the fortune of the day is doubtful, they make it a point to carry off their slain. To abandon the shield is a flagitious crime. The person guilty of it is interdicted from religious rites, and excluded from the assembly of the state. Many who survived their honor on the day of battle have closed a life of ignominy by a halter.

  The kings in Germany owe their election to the nobility of their birth; the generals are chosen for their valor. The power of the former is not arbitrary or unlimited; the latter command more by warlike example than by their authority. To be of a prompt and daring spirit in battle, and to attack in the front of the lines, is the popular character of the chieftain; when admired for his bravery, he is sure to be obeyed. Jurisdiction is vested in the priests. It is theirs to sit in judgment upon all offenses. By them delinquents are put in irons, and chastised with stripes. The power of punishing is in no other hands. When exerted by the priests, it has neither the air of vindictive justice, nor of military execution; it is rather a religious sentence, inflicted with the sanction of the god, who, according to the German creed, attends their armies on the day of battle. To impress on their minds the idea of a tutelar deity, they carry with them to the field certain images and banners, taken from their usual depository, the religious groves. A circumstance which greatly tends to inflame them with heroic ardor is the manner in which their battalions are formed. They are neither mustered nor embodied by chance. They fight in clans, united by consanguinity, a family of warriors. Their tenderest pledges are near them in the field. In the heat of the engagement, the soldier hears the shrieks of his wife and the cries of his children. These are the darling witnesses of his conduct, the applauders of his valor, at once beloved and valued. The wounded seek their mothers and their wives: undismayed at the sight, the women count each honorable scar, and suck the gushing blood. They are even hardy enough to mix with the combatants, administering refreshment, and exhorting them to deeds of valor.

  From tradition, they have a variety of instances of armies put to rout, and by the interposition of their wives and daughters again incited to renew the charge. Their women saw the ranks give way, and, rushing forward in the instant, by the vehemence of their cries and supplication, by opposing their breasts to danger, and by representing the horrors of slavery, restored the order of the battle. To a German mind the idea of a woman led into captivity is insupportable. In consequence of this prevailing sentiment, the states, which deliver as hostages the daughters of illustrious families, are bound by the most effectual obligation. There is, in their opinion, something sacred in the female sex, and even the power of foreseeing future events. Their advice is, therefore, always heard; they are frequently consulted, and their responses are deemed oracular. We have seen, in the reign of Vespasian, the famous Veleda revered as a divinity by her countrymen. Before her time, Aurinia and others were held in equal veneration; but a veneration founded on sentiment and superstition, free from that servile adulation which pretends to people heaven with human deities.

  Mercury is the god chiefly adored in Germany. On stated days they think it lawful to offer to him human victims. They sacrifice to Hercules and Mars such animals as are usually slain in honor of the gods. In some parts of the country of the Suevians, the worship of Isis is established. To trace the introduction of ceremonies, which had their growth in another part of the world, were an investigation for which I have no materials: suffice it to say that the figure of a ship (the symbolic representation of the goddess) clearly shows that the religion was imported into the country. Their deities are not immured in temples, nor represented under any kind of resemblance to the human form. To do either were, in their opinion, to derogate from the majesty of superior beings. Woods and groves are sacred depositories; and the spot being consecrated to those pious uses, they give to that sacred recess the name of the divinity that fills the place, which is never profaned by the steps of man. The gloom fills every mind with awe; revered at a distance, and never seen but with the eye of contemplation.

  Their attention to auguries, and the practice of divining by lots, is conducted with a degree of superstition not exceeded by any other nation. Their mode of proceeding by lots is wonderfully simple. The branch of a fruit tree is cut into small pieces, which, being all distinctly marked, are thrown at random on a white garment. If a question of public interest be depending, the priest of the canton performs the ceremony; if it be nothing more than a private concern, the master of the family officiates. With fervent prayers offered up to the gods, his eyes devoutly raised to heaven, he holds up three times each segment of the twig, and as the marks rise in succession, interprets the decrees of fate. If appearances prove unfavorable, there ends all consultation for that day; if, on the other hand, the chances are propitious, they require, for greater certainty, the sanction of auspices. The well-known superstition, which in other countries consults the flight and notes of birds, is also established in Germany; but to receive intimations of future events from horses is the popular credulity of the country. For this purpose a number of milk-white steeds, unprofaned by mortal labor, is constantly maintained at the public expense, and placed to pasture in the religious groves. When occasion requires, they are harnessed to a sacred chariot, and the priest, accompanied by the king or chief of the state, attends to watch the motions and the neighing of the horses. No other mode of augury is received with such implicit faith by the people, the nobility, and the priesthood. The horses, upon these solemn occasions, are supposed to be the organs of the gods, and the priests their favored interpreters. They have still another way of prying into futurity, to which they have recourse, when anxious to know the issue of an important war. They seize by any means in their power a captive from the adverse nation, and commit him in single combat with the champion selected from their own army. Each is provided with weapons after the manner of his country, and the victory, wherever it falls, is deemed a sure prognostic of the event.

  In matters of inferior moment the chiefs decide; important questions are reserved for the whole community. Yet even in those cases, where all have a voice, the business is discussed and prepared by the chiefs. The general assembly, if no sudden alarm calls the people together, has its fixed and stated periods, either at the new or full moon. This is thought the season most propitious to public affairs. Their account of time differs from that of the Romans: instead of days they reckon the number of nights. Their public ordinances are so dated; and their proclamations run in the same style. The night, according to them, leads the day. Their passion for liberty is attended with this ill consequence: when a public meeting is announced, they never assemble at the stated time. Regularity would look like obedience; to mark their independent spirit, they do not convene at once, but two or three days are lost in delay. When they think themselves sufficiently numerous, the business begins. Each man takes his seat, completely armed. Silence is proclaimed by the priests, who still retain their coercive authority. The king, or chief of the community, opens the debate; the rest are heard in their turn, according to age, nobility of descent, renown in war, or fame for eloquence. No man dictates to the assembly; he may persuade, but cannot command. When anything is advanced not agreeable to the people, they reject it with a general murmur. If the proposition pleases, they brandish their javelins. This is their highest and most honorable mark of applause; they assent in a military manner, and praise by the sound of their arms.

  In this council of the state accusations are exhibited, and capital offenses prosecuted. Pains and penalties are proportioned to the nature of the crime. For treason and desertion, the sentence is to be hanged on a tree: the coward, and such as are guilty of unnatural practices, are plunged under a hurdle into bogs and fens. In these different punishments the point and spirit of the law is, that crimes which affect the state may be exposed to public notoriety; infamous vice cannot be too soon buried in oblivion. He who is convicted of transgressions of an inferior nature pays a mulct of horses or of cattle. Part of that fine goes to the king, or the community, and part to the person injured, or to his family. It is in these assemblies that princes are chosen, and chiefs elected to act as magistrates in the several cantons of the state. To each of these judicial officers assistants are appointed from the body of the people, the number of a hundred, who attend to give their advice, and strengthen the hands of justice.

  A German transacts no business, public or private, without being completely armed. The right of carrying arms is assumed by no person whatever, till the state has declared him duly qualified. The young candidate is introduced before the assembly, where one of the chiefs or his father, or some near relation, provides him with a shield and javelin. This, with them, is the manly gown; the youth from that moment ranks as a citizen; till then he was considered as part of the household; he is now a member of the commonwealth. In honor of illustrious birth, and to mark the sense men entertain of the father’s merit, the son, though yet of tender years, is called to the dignity of a prince or chief. Such as are grown up to manhood, and have signalized themselves by a spirit of enterprise, have always a number of retainers in their train. Where merit is conspicuous, no man blushes to be seen in the list of followers or companions. A clanship is formed in this manner, with degrees of rank and subordination. The chief judges the pretensions of all, and assigns to each man his proper station. A spirit of emulation prevails among his whole train, all struggling to be the first in favor, while the chief places all his glory in the number and intrepidity of his companions. In that consists his dignity; to be surrounded by a band of young men is the source of his power; in peace, his brightest ornament; in war, his strongest bulwark. Nor is his fame confined to his own country: it extends to foreign nations, and is then of the first importance, if he surpasses his rivals in the number and courage of his followers. He receives presents from all parts: embassadors are sent to him; and his name alone is often sufficient to decide the issue of a war.

  In the field of action, it is disgraceful to the prince to be surpassed in valor by his companions; and not to vie with him in martial deeds is equally a reproach to his followers. If he dies in the field, he who survives him survives to live in infamy. All are bound to defend their leader, to succor him in the heat of action, and to make even their own actions subservient to his renown. This is the bond of union, the most sacred obligation. The chief fights for victory; the followers for their chief. If, in the course of a long peace, the people relax into sloth and indolence, it often happens that the young nobles seek a more active life in the service of other states engaged in war. The German mind cannot brook repose. The field of danger is the field of glory. Without violence and rapine a train of dependants cannot be maintained. The chief must show his liberality, and the follower expects it. He demands at one time this warlike horse, at another that victorious lance imbrued with the blood of the enemy. The prince’s table, however inelegant, must always be plentiful: it is the only pay of his followers. War and depredations are the ways and means of the chieftain. To cultivate the earth, and wait the regular produce of the seasons, is not the maxim of a German; you will more easily persuade him to attack the enemy, and provoke honorable wounds in the field of battle. In a word, to earn by the sweat of your brow what you may gain by the price of your blood is, in the opinion of a German, a sluggish principle, unworthy of a soldier.

  When the state has no war to manage, the German mind is sunk in sloth. The chase does not afford sufficient employment. The time is passed in sleep and gluttony. The intrepid warrior, who in the field braved every danger, becomes in time of peace a listless sluggard. The management of his house and lands he leaves to the woman, to the old men, and to the infirm part of his family. He himself lounges in stupid repose, by a wonderful diversity of nature, exhibiting in the same man the most inert aversion to labor, and the fiercest principle of action. It is a custom established in the several states to present a contribution of corn and cattle to their chieftains. Individuals follow the example, and this bounty proves at once an honor to the prince, and his best support. Presents are also sent from the adjacent states, as well by private persons as in the name of the community. Nothing is so flattering to the pride of the chiefs as those foreign favors consisting of the best horses, magnificent armor, splendid harness, and beautiful collars. The Romans have lately taught them to receive presents of money.

  The Germans, it is well known, have no regular cities, nor do they allow a continuity of houses. They dwell in separate habitations, dispersed up and down, as a grove, a meadow, or a fountain happens to invite. They have villages, but not, in our fashion, with a series of connected buildings. Every tenement stands detached, with a vacant piece of ground round it, either to prevent accidents by fire, or for want of skill in the art of building. They neither know the use of mortar nor of tiles. They build with rude materials, regardless of beauty, order, and proportion. Particular parts are covered over with a kind of earth so smooth and shining, that the natural veins have some resemblance to the lights and shades of painting. Besides these habitations, they have a number of subterraneous caves, dug by their own labor, and carefully covered over with dung; in winter their retreat from cold, and the repository of their corn. In those recesses they not only find a shelter from the rigor of the season, but in times of foreign invasion their effects are safely concealed. The enemy lays waste the open country, but the hidden treasure escapes the general ravage; safe in its obscurity, or because the search would be attended with too much trouble.

  The clothing in use is a loose mantle, made fast with a clasp, or, when that cannot be had, with a thorn. Naked in other respects, they loiter away whole days by the fireside. The rich wear a garment, not, indeed, displayed and flowing, like the Parthians, or the people of Sarmatia, but drawn so tight, that the form of the limbs is palpably expressed. The skins of wild animals are also much in use. Near the Frontier, on the borders of the Rhine, the inhabitants wear them, but with an air of neglect that shows them altogether indifferent about the choice. The people who live more remote, near the northern seas, and have not acquired by commerce a taste for new-fashioned apparel, are more curious in the selection. They choose particular beasts, and, having stripped off the furs, clothe themselves with the spoil, decorated with party-colored spots, or fragments taken from the skins of fish that swim the ocean, as yet unexplored by the Romans. In point of dress there is no distinction between the sexes, except that the garment of the women is frequently made of linen, adorned with purple satin stains, but without sleeves, leaving the arms and part of the bosom uncovered.

  Marriage is considered as a strict and sacred institution. In the national character there is nothing so truly commendable. To be contented with one wife is peculiar to the Germans. They differ in this respect from all other savage nations. There are, indeed, a few instances of polygamy; not, however, the effect of loose desire; but occasioned by the ambition of various families, who court the alliance of the chief distinguished by the nobility of his rank and character. The bride brings no portion; she receives a dowry from her husband. In the presence of her parents and relations he makes a tender of part of his wealth; if accepted, the match is approved. In the choice of the presents, female vanity is not consulted. There are no frivolous trinkets to adorn the future bride. The whole fortune consists of oxen, a caparisoned horse, a shield, a spear, and a sword. She in return delivers a present of arms, and, by this exchange of gifts, the marriage is concluded. This is the nuptial ceremony, this is the bond of union, these their hymeneal gods. Lest the wife should think her sex an exemption from the rigors of the severest virtue, and the toils of war, she is informed of her duty by the marriage ceremony, and thence she learns that she is received by her husband to be his partner in toil and danger, to dare with him in war, and suffer with him in peace. The oxen yoked, the horse accoutred, and the arms given on the occasion, inculcate this lesson; and thus she is prepared to live, and thus to die. These are the terms of their union: she receives her armor as a sacred treasure, to be preserved inviolate, and transmitted with honor to her sons, a portion for their wives, and from them descendible to her grandchildren.

  In consequence of these manners, the married state is a life of affection and female constancy. The virtue of the woman is guarded from seduction: no public spectacles to seduce her; no banquets to inflame her passions; no baits of pleasure to disarm her virtue. The art of intriguing by clandestine letters is unknown to both sexes. Populous as the country is, adultery is rarely heard of; when detected the punishment is instant, and inflicted by the husband. He cuts off the hair of his guilty wife, and, having assembled her relations, expels her naked from his house, pursuing her with stripes through the village. To public loss of honor no favor is shown. She may possess beauty, youth, and riches; but a husband she can never obtain. Vice is not treated by the Germans as a subject of raillery, nor is the profligacy of corrupting and being corrupted called the fashion of the age. By the practice of some states, female virtue is advanced to still higher perfection; with them none but virgins marry. When the bride has fixed her choice, her hopes of matrimony have closed for life. With one husband, as with one life, one mind, one body, every woman is satisfied: in him her happiness is centred; her desires extend no further; and the principle is not only an affection for her husband’s person, but a reverence for the married state. To set limits to population, by rearing up only a certain number of children, and destroying the rest, is accounted a flagitious crime. Among the savages of Germany, virtuous manners operate more than good laws in other countries.

  In every family the children are reared up in filth. They run about naked, and in time grow up to that strength and size of limb which we behold with wonder. The infant is nourished at the mother’s breast, not turned over to nurses and to servants. No distinction is made between the future chieftain and the infant son of a common slave. On the same ground, and mixed with the same cattle, they pass their days, till age of manhood draws the line of separation, and early valor shows the person of ingenuous birth. It is generally late before their young men enjoy the pleasures of love; by consequence they are not enfeebled in their prime. Nor are the virgins married too soon. Both parties wait to attain their full growth. In the warm season of mutual vigor the match is made, and the children of the marriage have the constitution of their parents. The uncle by the mother’s side regards his nephews with an affection nothing inferior to that of their father. With some, the relation of the sister’s children to their maternal uncle is held to be the strongest tie of consanguinity, insomuch that in demanding hostages, that line of kindred is preferred, as the most endearing objects of the family, and, consequently, the most tender pledges. The son is always heir to his father. Last wills and testaments are not in use. In case of failure of issue, the brothers of the deceased are next in succession, or else the paternal and maternal uncles. A numerous train of relations is the comfort and the honor of old age. To live without raising heirs to yourself is no advantage in Germany.

  To adopt the quarrels as well as the friendships of your parents and relations is held to be an indispensable duty. In their resentments, however, they are not implacable. Injuries are adjusted by a settled measure of compensation. Atonement is made for homicide by a certain number of cattle, and by that satisfaction the whole family is appeased: a happy regulation, than which nothing can be more conducive to the public interest, since it serves to curb that spirit of revenge which is the natural result of liberty in the excess. Hospitality and convivial pleasure are nowhere so liberally enjoyed. To refuse admittance to a guest were an outrage against humanity. The master of the house welcomes every stranger, and regales him to the best of his ability. If his stock falls short, he becomes a visitor to his neighbor, and conducts his new acquaintance to a more plentiful table. They do not wait to be invited, nor is it of any consequence, since a cordial reception is always certain. Between an intimate and an entire stranger no distinction is made. The law of hospitality is the same. The departing guest receives as a present whatever he desires, and the host retaliates by asking with the same freedom. A German delights in the gifts which he receives; yet by bestowing he imputes nothing to you as a favor, and for what he receives he acknowledges no obligation.

  In this manner the Germans pride themselves upon their frankness and generosity. Their hours of rest are protracted to broad daylight. As soon as they rise, the first thing they do is to bathe, and generally, on account of the intense severity of the climate, in warm water. They then betake themselves to their meal, each on a separate seat, and at his own table. Having finished their repast they proceed completely armed to the dispatch of business, and frequently to a convivial meeting. To devote both day and night to deep drinking is a disgrace to no man. Disputes, as will be the case with people in liquor, frequently arise, and are seldom confined to opprobrious language. The quarrel generally ends in a scene of blood. Important subjects, such as the reconciliation of enemies, the forming of family alliances, the election of chiefs, and even peace and war, are generally canvassed in their carousing festivals. The convivial moment, according to their notion, is the true season for business, when the mind opens itself in plain simplicity, or grows warm with bold and noble ideas. Strangers to artifice, and knowing no refinement, they tell their sentiments without disguise. The pleasure of the table expands their hearts, and calls forth every secret. On the following day the subject of debate is again taken into consideration, and thus two different periods of time have their distinct uses: when warm, they debate; when cool they decide.

  Their beverage is a liquor drawn from barley or from wheat, and, like the juice of the grape, fermented to a spirit. The settlers on the banks of the Rhine provide themselves with wine. Their food is of the simplest kind; wild apples, the flesh of an animal recently killed, or coagulated milk. Without skill in cookery, and without seasoning to stimulate the palate, they eat to satisfy nature. But they do not drink merely to quench their thirst. Indulge their love of liquor to the excess which they require, and you need not employ the terror of your arms: their own vices will subdue them.

  Their public spectacles boast of no variety. They have but one sort, and that they repeat at all their meetings. A band of young men make it their pastime to dance entirely naked amidst pointed swords and javelins. By constant exercise this kind of exhibition has become an art, and art has taught them to perform with grace and elegance. Their talents, however, are not let out for hire. Though some danger attends the practice, the pleasure of the spectator is their only recompense. In the character of a German there is nothing so remarkable as his passion for play. Without the excuse of liquor (strange as it may seem!) in their cool and sober moments, they have recourse to dice, as to a serious and regular business, with the most desperate spirit committing their whole substance to chance, and when they have lost their all, putting their liberty and even their persons upon the last hazard of the die. The loser yields himself to slavery. Young, robust, and valiant, he submits to be chained, and even exposed to sale. Such is the effect of a ruinous and inveterate habit. They are victims to folly, and they call themselves men of honor. The winner is always in a hurry to barter away the slaves acquired by success at play: he is ashamed of his victory, and therefore puts away the remembrance of it as soon as possible.

  The slaves in general are not arranged at their several employments in the household affairs, as is the practice at Rome. Each has his separate habitation, and his own establishment to manage. The master considers him as an agrarian dependent, who is obliged to furnish a certain quantity of grain, of cattle, or of wearing apparel. The slave obeys, and the state of servitude extends no further. All domestic affairs are managed by the master’s wife and children. To punish a slave with stripes, to load him with chains, or condemn him to hard labor, is unusual. It is true that slaves are sometimes put to death, not under color of justice, or of any authority vested in the master; but in a transport of passion, in a fit of rage, as is often the case in a sudden affray; but it is also true that this species of homicide passes with impunity. The freedmen are not of much higher consideration than the actual slaves; they obtain no rank in the master’s family, and, if we except the parts of Germany where monarchy is established, they never figure on the stage of public business. In despotic governments they rise above the men of ingenuous birth, and even eclipse the whole body of the nobles. In other states the subordination of the freedmen is a proof of public liberty.

  The practice of placing money at interest, and reaping the profits of usury, is unknown in Germany; and that happy ignorance is a better prevention of the evil than a code of prohibitory laws. In cultivating the soil, they do not settle on one spot, but shift from place to place. The state or community takes possession of a certain tract proportioned to its numbers of hands; allotments are afterwards made to individuals according to their rank and dignity. In so extensive a country, where there is no want of land, the partition is easily made. The ground tilled in one year lies fallow the next, and a sufficient quantity always remains, the labor of the people being by no means adequate to the extent or goodness of the soil. Nor have they the skill to make orchard plantations, to inclose the meadow grounds, or to lay out and water gardens. From the earth they demand nothing but corn. Hence their year is not, as with the Romans, divided into four seasons. They have distinct ideas of winter, spring, and summer, and their language has terms for each; but they neither know the blessings nor the name of autumn.

  Their funerals have neither pomp nor vain ambition. When the bodies of illustrious men are to be burned, they choose a particular kind of wood for the purpose and have no other attention. The funeral pile is neither strewed with garments, nor enriched with fragrant spices. The arms of the deceased are committed to the flames, and sometimes his horse. A mound of turf is raised to his memory, and this, in their opinion, is a better sepulchre than those structures of labored grandeur, which display the weakness of human vanity, and are, at best, a burden to the dead. Tears and lamentations are soon at an end, but their regret does not so easily wear away. To grieve for the departed is comely in the softer sex. The women weep for their friends; the men remember them.

  This is the sum of what I have been able to collect touching the origin of the Germans, and the general manners of the people. I now shall enter into a more minute description of the several states, their peculiar rites, and the distinctive character of each; observing at the same time, which were the nations that first passed the Rhine, and transplanted themselves into Gaul. That the Gauls, in ancient times, were superior to the Germans, we have the authority of Julius Cæsar, that illustrious historian of his own affairs. From what is stated by that eminent writer, it is highly probable that colonies from Gaul passed over into Germany; for, in fact, how could a river check the migrations of either nation, when it increased in strength, and multiplied in numbers? So weak an obstacle could not repel them from taking possession of a country, not as yet marked out by power, and of course open to the first occupant. We find, accordingly, that the whole region between the Hercynian forest, the Maine and the Rhine was occupied by the Helvetians, and the tract beyond it by the Boians; both originally Gallic nations. The name of Boiemum, which remains to this day, shows the ancient state of the country, though it has since received a new race of inhabitants. Whether the Araviscians, who settled in Pannonia, were originally a colony from the Osi, a people of Germany; or, on the other hand, whether the Osi overflowed into Germany from the Araviscians, cannot now be ascertained. Thus much is certain, the laws, the manners, and language of both nations are still the same. But which of them first passed the Danube? The same good and evil were to be found on both sides of the river; equal poverty and equal independence. To be thought of German origin is the ambition of the Treverians and the Nervians, both conceiving that the reproach of Gallic softness and effeminacy, which still infect their national manners, may be lost in the splendor of a warlike descent. The Vangiones, the Tribocians, and the Nemetes, who stretch along the banks of the Rhine, are, beyond all doubt, of German extraction. The Ubians, for their services, were made a Roman colony, and, with their own consent, became known by the name of Agriffinians, in honor of their founder; and yet they still look back with pride to their German origin. They issued formerly from that country, and, having given proof of their fidelity, obtained an allotment of territory on the banks of the Rhine, not so much with a view to their security, as to make them a guard to defend the Roman frontier.

  Of all these various nations the Batavians are the most brave and warlike. Incorporated formerly with the Cattians, but driven out by intestine divisions, they took possession of an island, formed by the Rhine, where without any extent of land on the continent they established a canton in alliance with the Romans. The honor of that ancient friendship they still enjoy, with the addition of peculiar privileges. They are neither insulted with taxes, nor harassed by revenue officers. Free from burdens, imposts, and tributes, they are reserved for the day of battle; a nursery of soldiers. The Mattiaci are in like manner attached to the interest of the Romans. In fact, the limits of the empire have been enlarged, and the terror of our arms has spread beyond the Rhine and the former boundaries. Hence the Mattiaci, still enjoying their own side of the river, are Germans by their situation, yet in sentiment and principle the friends of Rome; submitting, like the Batavians, to the authority of the empire; but, never having been transplanted, they still retain, from their soil and climate, all the fierceness of their native character. The people between the Rhine and the Danube, who occupy a certain tract, subject to an impost of one tenth, and therefore called the Decumate lands, are not to be reckoned among the German nations. The Gauls, from their natural levity prone to change, and rendered desperate by their poverty, were the first adventurers into that vacant region. The Roman frontier, in process of time, being advanced, and garrisons stationed at proper posts, that whole country became part of a province, and the inhabitants of course were reduced to subjection.

  Beyond the Mattiaci lies the territory of the Cattians, beginning at the Hercynian forest, but not, like other parts of Germany, a wide and dreary level of fens and marshes. A continued range of hills extends over a prodigious tract, till, growing thinner by degrees, they sink at last into an open country. The Hercynian forest attends its favorite Cattians to their utmost boundary, and there leaves them, as it were, with regret. The people are robust and hardy; their limbs well braced; their countenance fierce, and their minds endowed with vigor beyond the rest of their countrymen. Considered as Germans, their understanding is quick and penetrating. They elect officers fit to command, and obey them implicitly; they keep their ranks, and know how to seize their opportunity; they restrain their natural impetuosity, and wait for the attack; they arrange with judgment the labors of the day, and throw up intrenchments for the night; trusting little to fortune, they depend altogether on their valor; and what is rare in the history of barbarians, and never attained without regular discipline, they place their confidence, not in the strength of their armies, but entirely in their general. The infantry is their main strength. Each soldier carries, besides his arms, his provision and a parcel of military tools. You may see other armies rushing to a battle: the Cattians march to a war. To skirmish in detached parties, or to sally out on a sudden emergence, is not their practice. A victory hastily gained, or a quick retreat, may suit the genius of the cavalry; but all that rapidity, in the opinion of the Cattians, denotes want of resolution: perseverance is the true mark of courage.

  A custom, known, indeed, in other parts of Germany, but adopted only by a few individuals of a bold and ardent spirit, is with the Cattians a feature of the national character. From the age of manhood they encourage the growth of their hair and beard; nor will any one, till he has slain an enemy, divest himself of that excrescence, which by a solemn vow he has devoted to heroic virtue. Over the blood and spoils of the vanquished the face of the warrior is for the first time displayed. The Cattian then exults; he has now answered the true end of his being, and has proved himself worthy of his parents and his country. The sluggard continues unshorn, with the uncouth horrors of his visage growing wilder to the close of his days. The men of superior courage and uncommon ferocity wear also an iron ring, in that country a badge of infamy, and with that, as with a chain, they appear self-condemned to slavery, till by the slaughter of an enemy they have redeemed their freedom. With this extraordinary habit the Cattians are in general much delighted. They grow gray under a vow of heroism, and by their voluntary distinctions render themselves conspicuous to their friends and enemies. In every engagement the first attack is made by them: they claim the front of the line as their right, presenting to the enemy an appearance wild and terrible. Even in time of peace they retain the same ferocious aspect; never softened with an air of humanity. They have no house to dwell in, no land to cultivate, no domestic care to employ them. Wherever chance conducts them, they are sure of being maintained. Lavish of their neighbors’ substance, and prodigal of their own, they persist in this course, till towards the decline of life their drooping spirit is no longer equal to the exertions of a fierce and rigid virtue.

  The Usipians and Tencterians border on the Cattians. Their territory lies on the banks of the Rhine, where that river, still flowing in one regular channel, forms a sufficient boundary. In addition to their military character the Tencterians are famous for the discipline of their cavalry. Their horse is no way inferior to the infantry of the Cattians. The wisdom of their ancestors formed the military system, and their descendants hold it in veneration. Horsemanship is the pride of the whole country, the pastime of their children, the emulation of their youth, and the habit of old age. With their goods and valuable effects their horses pass as part of the succession, not, however, by the general rule of inheritance to the eldest son, but, in a peculiar line, to that son who stands distinguished by his valor and his exploits in war.

  In the neighborhood of the last-mentioned states formerly occurred the Bructerians, since that time dispossessed of their territory, and, as fame reports, now no longer a people. The Chanavians and Angrivarians, it is said, with the consent of the adjacent tribes, invaded the country, and pursued the ancient settlers with exterminating fury. The intolerable pride of the Bructerians drew upon them this dreadful catastrophe. The love of plunder was, no doubt, a powerful motive; and perhaps the event was providentially ordained in favor of the Roman people. Certain it is, the gods have of late indulged us with the view of a fierce engagement, and a scene of carnage, in which above sixty thousand of the enemy fell a sacrifice, not to the arms of Rome, but more magnificent still, to the rage of their own internal discord, all cut off, as it were, in a theatre of war, to furnish a spectacle to the Roman army. May this continue to be the fate of foreign nations! If not the friends of Rome, let them be enemies to themselves. For in the present tide of our affairs, what can fortune have in store so devoutly to be wished for as civil dissensions amongst our enemies?

  At the back of the states, which I have now described, lie the Dulgibinians, and the Chasuarians, with other nations of inferior note. In front occurs the country of the Frisians, divided into two communities called, on account of their degrees of strength, the Greater and the Lesser Frisia. Both extend along the margin of the Rhine as far as the Ocean, inclosing within their limits lakes of vast extent, where the fleets of Rome have spread their sails. Through that outlet we have attempted the Northern Ocean, where, if we may believe the account of navigators, the pillars of Hercules are seen still standing on the coast; whether it be that Hercules did in fact visit those parts, or that whatever is great and splendid in all quarters of the globe is by common consent ascribed to that ancient hero. Druses Germanicus was an adventurer in those seas. He did not want a spirit of enterprise; but the navigation was found impracticable in that tempestuous ocean, which seemed to forbid any further discovery of its own element, or the labors of Hercules. Since that time no expedition has been undertaken: men conceived that to respect the mysteries of the gods, and believe without inquiry, would be the best proof of veneration.

  We have hitherto traced the western side of Germany. From the point where we stop, it stretches away with a prodigious sweep towards the north. In that vast region the first territory that occurs is that of the Chaucians, beginning on the confines of the Frisians, and though at the extremity bounded by the seashore, yet running at the back of all the nations already described, till, with an immense compass, it reaches the borders of the Cattians. Of this immeasurable tract it is not sufficient to say that the Chaucians possess it: they even people it. Of all the German nations they are, beyond all question, the most respectable. Their grandeur rests upon the surest foundation, the love of justice; wanting no extension of territory, free from avarice and ambition, remote and happy, they provoke no wars, and never seek to enrich themselves by rapine and depredation. Their importance among the nations round them is undoubtedly great; but the best evidence of it is that they have gained nothing but justice. Loving moderation, yet uniting to it a warlike spirit, they are ever ready in a just cause to unsheath the sword. Their armies are soon in the field. In men and horses their resources are great, and even in profound tranquillity their fame is never tarnished.

  Bordering on the side of the Chaucians, and also of the Cattians, lies the country of the Cheruscans; a people by a long disuse of arms enervated and sunk in sloth. Unmolested by their neighbors, they enjoyed the sweets of peace, forgetting that amidst powerful and ambitious neighbors the repose which you enjoy serves only to lull you into a calm, always pleasing, but deceitful in the end. When the sword is drawn, and the power of the strongest is to decide, you talk in vain of equity and moderation: those virtues always belong to the conqueror. Thus it has happened to the Cheruscans: they were formerly just and unright; at present they are called fools and cowards. Victory has transferred every virtue to the Cattians, and oppression takes the name of wisdom. The downfall of the Cheruscans drew after it that of the Fosi, a contiguous nation, in their day of prosperity never equal to their neighbors, but fellow-sufferers in their ruin.

  In the same northern part of Germany we find the Cimbrians on the margin of the ocean; a people at present of small consideration, though their glory can never die. Monuments of their former strength and importance are still to be seen on either shore. Their camps and lines of circumvallation are not yet erased. From the extent of ground which they occupied you may even now form an estimate of the force and resources of the state; and the account of their grand army, which consisted of such prodigious numbers, seems to be verified. It was in the year of Rome six hundred and forty, in the consulship of Cæcilius Metellus and Papirius Carbo, that the arms of the Cimbrians first alarmed the world. If from that period we reckon to the second consulship of the Emperor Trajan, we shall find a space of near two hundred and ten years: so long has Germany stood at bay with Rome! In the course of so obstinate a struggle, both sides have felt alternately the severest blows of fortune, and the worse calamities of war. Not the Samnite, nor the republic of Carthage, nor Spain, nor Gaul, nor even the Parthian has given such frequent lessons to the Roman people. The power of the Arascidæ was not so formidable as German liberty. If we except the slaughter of Crassus and his army, what has the East to boast of? Their own commander, Pacorus, was cut off, and the whole nation was humbled by the victory of Ventidius. The Germans can recount their triumphs over Carbo, Cassius, Scaurus Aurelius, Servilius Cæpio, and Cneius Manlius, all defeated, or taken prisoners. With them the republic lost five consular armies; and since that time, in the reign of Augustus, Varus perished with his three legions. Caius Marius, it is true, defeated the Germans in Italy; Julius Cæsar made them retreat from Gaul; and Drusus, Tiberius, and Germanicus overpowered them in their own country: but how much blood did those victories cost us? The mighty projects of Caligula ended in a ridiculous farce. From that period an interval of peace succeeded, till roused at length by the dissensions of Rome, and the civil wars that followed, they stormed our legions in their winter quarters, and even planned the conquest of Gaul. Indeed we forced them to repass the Rhine; but from that time what has been our advantage? We have triumphed, and Germany is still unconquered.

  The Suevians are the next that claim attention. Possessing the largest portion of Germany, they do not, like the Cattians and Tencterians, for one state or community, but have among themselves several subdivisions, or inferior tribes, known by distinct appellations, yet all comprehended under the general name of Suevians. It is the peculiar custom of this people to braid the hair, and tie it up in a knot. Between them and the rest of the Germans this is the mark of distinction. In their own country it serves to discriminate the freeborn from the slave. If the same mode is seen in other states, introduced by ties of consanguinity, or, as often happens, by the propensity of men to imitate foreign manners, the instances are rare, and confined entirely to the season of youth. With the Suevians the custom is continued through life; men far advanced in years are seen with their hoary locks interwoven, and fastened behind, or sometimes gathered into a shaggy knot on the crown of the head. The chiefs are more nicely adjusted: they attend to ornament, but it is a manly attention, not the spirit of intrigue or the affectation of appearing amiable in the eyes of women. When going to engage the enemy, they fancy that from the high structure of their hair they appear taller and gain an air of ferocity. Their dress is a preparation for battle.

  The Semnones are ambitious to be thought the most ancient and respectable of the Suevian nation. Their claim they think confirmed by the mysteries of religion. On a stated day a procession is made into a wood consecrated in ancient times, and rendered awful by auguries delivered down from age to age. The several tribes of the same descent appear by their deputies. The rites begin with the slaughter of a man, who is offered as a victim, and thus their barbarous worship is celebrated by an act of horror. The grove is beheld with superstitious terror. No man enters that holy sanctuary without being bound with a chain, thereby denoting his humble sense of his own condition, and the superior attributes of the deity that fills the place. Should he happen to fall, he does not presume to rise, but in that groveling state makes his way out of the wood. The doctrine intended by this bigotry is, that from this spot the whole nation derives its origin, and that here is the sacred mansion of the all-ruling mind, the supreme God of the universe, who holds everything else in a chain of dependence on his will and pleasure. To these tenets much credit arises from the weight and influence of the Semnones, a populous nation, distributed into a hundred cantons, and by the vast extent of their territory entitled to consider themselves as the head of the Suevian nation.

  The Langobards exhibit a contrast to the people last described. Their dignity is derived from the paucity of their numbers. Surrounded as they are by great and powerful nations, they live independent, owing their security not to mean compliances, but to that warlike spirit with which they encounter danger. To these succeed in regular order the Reudignians, the Aviones, Angles, and Varinians: the Eudocians, Nuithones, and Suardonians, all defended by rivers, or embosomed in forests. In these several tribes there is nothing that merits attention, except that they all agree to worship the goddess Earth, or, as they call her, Herth, whom they consider as the common mother of all. This divinity, according to their notion, interposes in human affairs, and at times visits the several nations of the globe. A sacred grove on an island in the Northern Ocean is dedicated to her. There stands this sacred chariot, covered with a vestment, to be touched by the priest only. When she takes her seat in this holy vehicle, he becomes immediately conscious of her presence, and in his fit of enthusiasm pursues her progress. The chariot is drawn by cows yoked together. A general festival takes place, and public rejoicings are heard, wherever the goddess directs her way. No war is thought of; arms are laid aside, and the sword is sheathed. The sweets of peace are known, and then only relished. At length the same priest declares the goddess satisfied with her visitation, and reconducts her to her sanctuary. The chariot with the sacred mantle, and if we may believe report, the goddess herself, are purified in a secret lake. In this ablution certain slaves officiate and instantly perish in the water. Hence the terrors of superstition are more widely diffused; a religious horror seizes every mind, and all are content in pious ignorance to venerate that awful mystery which no man can see and live. This part of the Suevian nation stretches away to the most remote and unknown recesses of Germany.

  On the banks of the Danube (for we shall now pursue that river, in the same manner as we have traced the course of the Rhine), the first and nearest state is that of the Hermundurians, a people in alliance with Rome, acting always with fidelity, and for that reason allowed to trade not only on the frontier, but even within the limits of the empire. They are seen at large in the heart of our splendid colony in the province of Rhætia, without so much as a guard to watch their motions. To the rest of the Germans we display camps and legions, but to the Hermundurians we grant the exclusive privilege of seeing our houses and our elegant villas. They behold the splendor of the Romans but without avarice, or a wish to enjoy it. In the territories of these people the Elbe takes its rise, a celebrated river, and formerly well known to the Romans. At present we only hear of its name.

  Contiguous to the last-mentioned people lies the country of the Nariscans, and next in order the Marcomannians and the Quadians. Of these the Marcomannians are the most eminent for their strength and military glory. The very territory now in their possession is the reward of valor, acquired by the expulsion of the Boians. Nor have the Nariscans or Quadians degenerated from their ancestors. As far as Germany is washed by the Danube, these three nations extend along the banks, and form the frontier of the country. The Marcomannians and the Quadians within our own memory obeyed a race of kings, born among themselves, the illustrious issue of Maroboduus and of Tudrus. Foreign princes at present sway the sceptre; but the strength of their monarchy depends upon the countenance and protection of Rome. To our arms they are not often indebted; we choose rather to supply them with money.

  At the back of the Marcomannians and Quadians lie several nations of considerable force, such as the Marsignians, the Gothinians, the Osians, and the Burians. In dress and language the last two resemble the Suevians. The Gothinians by their use of the Gallic tongue, and the Osians by the dialect of Pannonia, are evidently not of German origin. A further proof arises from their submitting to the disgrace of paying tribute, imposed upon them as aliens and intruders, partly by the Sarmatians, and partly by the Quadians. The Gothinians have still more reason to blush; they submit to the drudgery of digging iron in the mines. But a small part of the open and level country is occupied by these several nations: they dwell chiefly in forests, or on the summit of that continued ridge of mountains, by which Suevia is divided and separated from other tribes that lie still more remote. Of these the Lygians are the most powerful, stretching to a great extent, and giving their name to a number of subordinate communities. It will suffice to mention the most considerable; namely, the Arians, the Helvecones, the Manimians, the Elysians, and Naharvalians. The last show a grove famous for the antiquity of its religious rites. The priest appears in a female dress. The gods whom they worship are, in the language of the country, known by the name of Alcis, by Roman interpreters said to be Castor and Pollux. There are, indeed, no idols in their country; no symbolic representations; no traces of foreign superstition. And yet their two deities are adored in the character of young men and brothers. The Arians are not only superior to the other tribes above mentioned, but are also more fierce and savage. Not content with their natural ferocity, they study to make themselves still more grim and horrible by every addition that art can devise. Their shields are black; their bodies painted of a deep color; and the darkest night is their time for rushing to battle. The sudden surprise and funereal gloom of such a band of sable warriors are sure to strike a panic through the adverse army, who fly the field, as if a legion of demons had broken loose to attack them: so true it is that in every engagement the eye is the first conquered. Beyond the Lygians the next state is that of the Gothones, who live under regal government, and are, by consequence, ruled with a degree of power more rigorous than other parts of Germany, yet not unlimited, nor entirely hostile to civil liberty. In the neighborhood of these people we find on the seacoast the Rugians and Lemovians, both subject to royal authority. When their round shields and short swords are mentioned, there are no other particulars worthy of notice.

  The people that next occur are the Suiones, who may be said to inhabit the ocean itself. In addition to the strength of their armies, they have a powerful naval force. The form of their ships is peculiar. Every vessel has a prow at each end, and by that contrivance is always ready to make head either way. Sails are not in use, nor is there a range of oars at the sides. The mariners, as often happens in the navigation of rivers, take different stations, and shift from one place to another, as the exigence may require. Riches are by this people held in great esteem; and the public mind, debased by that passion, yields to the government of one, with unconditional, with passive obedience. Despotism is here fully established. The people are not allowed to carry arms in common, like the rest of the German nations. An officer is appointed to keep in a magazine all the military weapons, and for this purpose a slave is always chosen. For this policy the ostensible reason is, that the ocean is their natural fence against foreign invasions, and in time of peace the giddy multitude, with arms ready at hand, soon proceeds from luxury to tumult and commotion. But the truth is, the jealousy of a despotic prince does not think it safe to commit the care of his arsenal to the nobles or the men of ingenuous birth. Even a manumitted slave is not fit to be trusted.

  At the further extremity beyond the Suiones there is another sea, whose sluggish waters seem to be in a state of stagnation. By this lazy element the globe is said to be encircled, and the supposition receives some color of probability from an extraordinary phenomenon well known in those regions. The rays of the setting sun continue till the return of day to brighten the hemisphere with so clear a light that the stars are imperceptible. To this it is added by vulgar credulity that when the sun begins to rise, the sound of the emerging luminary is distinctly heard, and the very form of the horses, with the blaze of glory around the head of the god, is palpable to the sight. The boundaries of nature, it is generally believed, terminate here.

  On the coast to the right of the Suevian Ocean the Æstyans have fixed their habitations. In their dress and manners they resemble the Suevians, but their language has more affinity to the dialect of Britain. They worship the mother of the gods. The figure of a wild boar is the symbol of their superstition; and he who has that emblem about him thinks himself secure even in the thickest ranks of the enemy, without any need of arms, or any other mode of defense. The use of iron is unknown, and their general weapon is a club. In the cultivation of corn, and other fruits of the earth, they labor with more patience than is consistent with the natural laziness of the Germans. Their industry is exerted in another instance: they explore the sea for amber in their language called Glese, and are the only people who gather that curious substance. It is generally found among the shallows; sometimes on the shore. Concerning the nature or the causes of this concretion, the barbarians, with their usual want of curiosity, make no inquiry. Amongst other superfluities discharged by the sea, this substance lay long neglected, till Roman luxury gave it a name, and brought it into request. To the savages it is of no use. They gather it in rude heaps, and offer it for sale without any form or polish, wondering at the price they receive for it. There is reason to think that amber is a distillation from certain trees, since in the transparent medium we see a variety of insects, and even animals of the wing, which, being caught in the viscous fluid, are afterwards, when it grows hard, incorporated with it. It is probable, therefore, that as the East has its luxuriant plantations, where balm and frankincense perspire through the pores of trees, so the continents and islands of the West have their prolific groves, whose juices, fermented by the heat of the sun, dissolve into a liquid matter, which falls into the sea, and, being there condensed, is afterwards discharged by the winds and waves on the opposite shore. If you make an experiment of amber by the application of fire, it kindles like a torch, emitting a fragrant flame, and, in a little time, taking the tenacious nature of pitch or rosin. Beyond the Suiones we next find the nation of Sitones, differing in nothing from the former except the tameness with which they suffer a woman to reign over them. Of this people it is not enough to say that they have degenerated from civil liberty: they are sunk below slavery itself. At this place ends the territory of the Suevians.

  Whether the Peucinians, the Venedians, and Fennians are to be accounted Germans, or classed with the people of Sarmatia, is a point not easy to be determined: though the Peucinians, called by some the Bastarnians, bear a strong resemblance to the Germans. They use the same language: their dress and habitations are the same, and they are equally inured to sloth and filth. Of late, however, in consequence of frequent intermarriages between their leading chieftains and the families of Sarmatia, they have been tainted with the manners of that country. The Venedians are a counterpart of the Sarmatians; like them they lead a wandering life, and support themselves by plunder amidst the woods and mountains that separate the Peucinians and the Fennians. They are, notwithstanding, to be ascribed to Germany, inasmuch as they have settled habitations, know the use of shields, and travel always on foot, remarkable for their swiftness. The Sarmatians, on the contrary, live altogether on horseback or in wagons. Nothing can equal the ferocity of the Fennians, nor is there anything so disgusting as their filth and poverty. Without arms, without horses, and without a fixed place of abode, they lead a vagrant life; their food the common herbage; the skins of beasts their only clothing; and the bare earth their resting place. For their chief support they depend on their arrows, to which for want of iron, they prefix a pointed bone. The women follow the chase in company with the men, and claim their share of the prey. To protect their infants from the fury of wild beasts, and the inclemency of the weather, they make a kind of cradle amidst the branches of trees interwoven together, and they know no other expedient. The youth of the country have the same habitation, and amidst the trees old age is rocked to rest. Savage as this way of life may seem, they prefer it to the drudgery of the fieid, the labor of building, and the painful vicissitudes of hope and fear, which always attend the defense and the acquisition of property. Secure against the passions of men, and fearing nothing from the anger of the gods, they have attained that uncommon state of felicity, in which there is no craving left to form a single wish.

  The rest of what I have been able to collect is too much involved in fable, of a color with the accounts of the Hellusians and the Oxionians, of whom we are told that they have the human face, with the limbs and bodies of wild beasts. But reports of this kind, unsupported by proof, I shall leave to the pen of others.