Yet The Civilians Have Always

In The Various States Of Society, Armies Are Recruited From Very Different Motives. Barbarians Are Urged By The Love Of War; The Citizens Of A Free Republic May Be Prompted By A Principle Of Duty; The Subjects, Or At Least The Nobles, Of A Monarchy, Are Animated By A Sentiment Of Honor; But The Timid And Luxurious Inhabitants Of A Declining Empire Must Be Allured Into The Service By The Hopes Of Profit, Or Compelled By The Dread Of Punishment.

The Peace Of The Eastern Church Was Invaded By A Swarm Of Fanatics [monks], Incapable Of Fear, Or Reason, Or Humanity; And The Imperial Troops Acknowledged, Without Shame, That They Were Much Less Apprehensive Of An Encounter With The Fiercest Barbarians.

Hope, The Best Comfort Of Our Imperfect Condition.

The Philosopher, Who With Calm Suspicion Examines The Dreams And Omens, The Miracles And Prodigies, Of Profane Or Even Of Ecclesiastical History, Will Probably Conclude That, If The Eyes Of The Spectators Have Sometimes Been Deceived By Fraud, The Understanding Of The Readers Has Much More Frequently Been Insulted By Fiction.

The Theologian May Indulge The Pleasing Task Of Describing Religion As She Descended From Heaven, Arrayed In Her Native Purity. A More Melancholy Duty Is Imposed On The Historian. He Must Discover The Inevitable Mixture Of Error And Corruption Which She Contracted In A Long Residence Upon Earth, Among A Weak And Degenerate Race Of Beings.