means to riſe in his profeſſion. Perhaps there cannot be a more forcible contraſt than between the ſervile dependent gait of a poor curate and the courtly mien of a biſhop. And the reſpect and contempt they inſpire render the diſcharge of their ſeparate functions equally uſeleſs.
It is of great importance to obſerve that the character of every man is, in ſome degree, formed by his profeſſion. A man of ſenſe may only have a caſt of countenance that wears off as you trace his individuality, whilſt the weak, common man has ſcarcely ever any character, but what belongs to the body; at leaſt, all his opinions have been ſo ſteeped in the vat conſecrated by authority, that the faint ſpirit which the grape of his own vine yields cannot be diſtinguiſhed.
Society, therefore, as it becomes more enlightened, ſhould be very careful not to eſtabliſh bodies of men who muſt neceſſarily be made fooliſh or vicious by the very conſtitution of their profeſſion.
In the infancy of ſociety, when men were juſt emerging out of barbariſm, chiefs and prieſts, touching the moſt powerful ſprings of ſavage conduct, hope and fear, muſt have had unbounded ſway. An ariſtocracy, of courſe, is naturally the firſt form of government. But, claſhing intereſts ſoon loſing their equipoiſe, a monarchy and hierarchy break out of the confuſion of ambitious ſtruggles, and the foundation of both is ſecured by feudal tenures. This appears to be the origin of monarchical and prieſtly power, and the dawn of civilization. But ſuch combuſtible materials cannot long be pent up; and, getting
