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ESSAYS 

MORAL   AND   LITERARY. 

B   Y 

V  I  C  E  S  I  M  U  S    K  N  O  X.    M.  A. 

THE    FIFTH    EDITION, 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

VOL.       II, 

*HIAIH  A'HHEITA  IIEAFT. 

Hxeio». 


WON     <^UIA     DIFFICILIA    SUKT,     NOK     AtTDEMVS 
SED   QUIA   NON   AUDEMUS,    DI FFI  CILIA  SUNT. 

SENECA; 
LONDON: 

PRINTED    FOR    CHARLES   DILLV,    IN    THE    POULTRT,! 
MDCCLXXXIV, 


CONTTENTS 

OF      THE 

SECOND    VOLUME. 


No.  Pajre 

LXXXII.  Oft  the  Means  of  Reading  with  tie  me Jl  Ad- 
vantage.  I 
LXXXIII.   On  the  Propriety  of  adorning  Life,  and  fer- 
iiing  Society,   by  laudable  Exertion.         6 
LXXXIV.   On  PhilojcpbicalCntictJm,  and  on  the  little 
AJJijtance  it  give  ^  to  Genius.                   1O 
LXXXV.   On  the  Importance  of  a  good  CharaSler,  ccn- 
federcd  only  with  rejpett  to  Interejt.      14. 
LXXXVI.   On  the  ojientatious  AfieSatiw  of  the  Cha- 
racter of  a  Ltarncs  Ludy ,  wit  Lout  Jitf- 
jicient  Lcarnmg,  and  cwithcut  jfudgmn/jt, 

17 

LXXXVII.   On  the  Folly  and  Wi^lecnrfs  ofntflefting  a 

Family  and  Children,  for  the  Pieajures  of 

Dijjipaticn.  22 

LXXXVIII.    Onjcrming  Connexions.  27 

LXXXJX.    An  Addrejs  to  a  Young  Sckclar,  futpofed  to 

Le  in   the  Courje  of  a  Li^^m  Education 

at  Schcol.  ^  z 

XC.   Tve  Want  rf  Piety  arifcs  frcm  tie  t'/'fiKt  of 

Senhb'dity  :  <j 

XCI.   On  tbePleafures  of  a  Garden.  38 

XCJI.   On  the  Grave  and  Gay  Species  cfPhikjl; •  'n -. 

42 

XCIIF.    On  Monumental  Infcrif.icr.i.  4^ 

XC1V.    Curjory  Thoughts  on  Biography.  4^ 

XCIV.   On  HoJ'pitality,  and  the  Civilities  of  Com- 

man  Life.  c  5 

XCVI.   On  the  Merit  of  ilkftricus  Birth.  57 

A  2  XCVlf. 


C     O    N    T    E  ,N    T    S. 

No.  Page 

XCV1I.  Religious  and  Moral  Principles  ntt  only  con- 
fejlent  nvith,  but  promoti--ve  of,  True  Po- 
litenefs  and  the  Art  of  Pleajing.  6l 

XC  VI II .    On  the  Guilt  of  incurring  Debts  without  either 
a  Pr  off  eft  or  an  Intention  of  Payment      65 
XCIX.   Curforv  Remarks  on  t&e  Life,   Style,   Genius, 
and  Writings  of  Petrarch.  68 

C.   OntbcFolijandWickednefsofWar.         74 
CI.   OH   the  Effefis    of  intemperate  Study  on  the 
Health,  and  on  the  Duty  of  faying  Regard 
to  the  Prefers  ation  of  Health.  77 

CI1.   On  the  Prej'ent  State  of  Converfation.         Si 
CHI.   On  Goodnefs  of  Heart.  86 

CIV.   On  the  Charatters  ^Theophraflus.          90 
CV.   On  federal  Pajfcges  in  the  Enchiridion,   or 
Manuel  of  Epicletus.  93 

CVI.   O«  S-iveetneJ}  and  Delicacy  of  Style.  99 

C  VII.  Hints  to  thoj'e  ivho  are  defegned for  the  Profef- 
fanofPhyfec.  104. 

^  ,;CVIII.  The  Complaints  againjl   Modern  Literature 
probabiy  ill-founded.  108' 

CIX.   0«  the  Caufes  and  Felly  of  DiJJentions  in  a 
Country  Neighbourhood.  I  f  1 

CX.  The  Imprudence  of  an  early  Attachment  to. 
A  fling  Plays.      [/»  a  Letter. ,]  1 1  5 

CXI.    Ow  the  Pleafures  of  Reflection.  119 

CXII.  Hints  to  thofe  who  are  dejigned for  the  Pro- 
fejfion  of  the  law.  I  2  I 

CXHI.  Of  Jo  me  Incon-veniencies  ivhieb  unavoidably 
attend  Living  Writers.  124. 

CXIV.  On  the  Obligations  <which  Learning  o^ves  to 
the  ChrijHan  Religion.  128 

CXV.  Cuffort  Remarks  on  the  Life  and  Writings  of 
Dr.  Jortin.  132 

CXVI.  On  the  Union  of  Extravagance  in  Trifles  and 
Pice,  with  Par/imony,  in  all  the  truly  Ho- 
nourable, Ufeful,  and  NcceJ/ary  Expences. 

]3i 

CXVII.   On  aTafte  for  the  Cultivation  rf  Flowers, 

and  of  beautiful  Shrubs  and  Trees.         J  39 

)  CXVIII.  On  the  Charter  of  Addifon  as  a  Poet.    143 

CXIX. 


CONTENTS, 

No.  Page 

CXIX.  '•The  Folly  of  bringing  up  Children  to  a  Learn- 
ed Profejfion,  without  the  Probability  of 
providing  them  ivith  a  Competency,  1^.5 
CXX.  On  Decency,  as  the  only  Motive  of  our  ap- 
parent Virtues,  and  particularly  of  our 
Religious  Behaviour.  \  49 

CXXI.    On  the  Animofities  occafaned  in  the  Country 
by  the  Game  Laivs,  '5^ 

CXXII.   On  the  Importance  of  governing  the  Temper* 

ScXXIir.   On  the  Moral  Effeas  of  a  good  Tragedy.    162 
CXX1V.   On  the  Influence  of  Politics,  as  a  Subject  of 
Conversation,  on  the  State  of  Literature. 

1 66 

CXXV.    O*  Buffoonery  in  Con<verfation.  170 

CXXVI,   On  the  Style  e/"Xenophon  and  Plato.      174 
CXX  VII.   On  the  Advantages  derivable  from  National 
Ad-TJtrJity .  \    8 

CXXVIII.   Q»Jome   of  the  Falfe  Prettnficns  and  Impo- 
Jttioas  of  the  Artful  and  Avaricious.      1 8 1 
CXX IX.   On  the  Prevailing  Tajle  in  Poetry.  185 

CXXX.   On  the  peculiar  Danger  of  falling  into  Indo- 
lence in  a  Literary  and  Retired  Life.      1  89 
CXX  XI.    On  the  Manners  of  a  Metropolis,  193 

CXXX1I.  On  Philelphus  and  Theodore  Gaza,  Polite 
Scholars  of  the  Fifteenth  Century.          197 
CX XXIII.   On  the  Inejpcacy  of  that  Style  cf  Speaking  and 
Writing,  which  may  be  called  the  frothy ', 

2OO 

CXXXfV.   On  the  Geatus- e/Enfmus.  204. 

CXXXV.   On  the  Education  of  a  Prince.  207 

CXXXVI.   Introductory  Remarks  on  the  Art  of  Printing. 

21  I 

CXX XVII.  On  the  Circumftances  ^hicb  led  to  the  Dif- 
cc-very  of  the  Art  of  Printing,  with  Mif- 
cellaner>us  Remarks  on  it.  21  ^ 

CXX XVIII.  On  the  Moral,   Political,   and  Religious  Ef. 
feds    of  Printing,    vjith   Concluding   Re- 
marks 2  20 
-    CXXXIX.   Curfory  Thoughts  on  Satire  and Satirifts.  227 
C  X  L.    On  Logic  and  Mctaphyfics.                             23  I 
CXLI.  On  Latin  Ferfe  as  an  £ \ercife  at  Schools.  23; 

CXL1JU 


CONTENTS. 

No.  Page 

CXLII.   On  the  Infe njibility  of  the  Men  to  the  Charms 

cf  a  Female  Mind,   cultivated  with  Polite 

and  Solid  Literature.    [In  a  Letter .]     239 

_^  CXLTII.  On  Parental  Indulgence.  243 

(TjiCXLlV.   On  tie  Poems  attributed  to  Rowley.          247 

CXLV.   On   the  Moral  Tendency  of  the  Writings  cf 

St'-rne,  251 

CXLVI.   On  the  Weight  and  Efficacy  which  Morality 

may  derive  from  the  Influence  and  Example 

of  thofe  who  are  called  the  Great.         255 

C XL VII.    On  the  Profligacy  and  confequent  Mifery  cf 

the  Lower  Clares,  and  on  the  Means  of 

Prevention.  259 

(      CXLVIII.  On  feme  Pa/ages   in    Ariftotle'j   Rhetoric, 

with  Mijcellaneous  Remarks  on  his  Style, 

Genius,  and  Works.  .  64 

CXLIX.   On  the  Beauty   and  Happinefs    of  an  open 

Behaviour  and  an  ingenuous  Difpojjtion. 

267 

.     CL.  4  Remedy  for  D  if  content.  271 

CLI.    On  the  Utility  of  Religious  Ceremonies,  and 
of  admitting  Mu/ic  and  external  Magnifi- 
cence in  places  of  Devotion.  274 
CLII     On   the  prejent  State  of  Parliamentary  Elo- 
quence. 27  7 
CLIII.  A  Lije  of  Letters  ufually  a  Life  of  compara- 
tive Innocence.                                         282 
CLIV.   On  the  Advantage  which  may  be  derived  to 
the  Tender  and  Pathetic  Style,  frum  it/ing 
the  Words  and  Phrajes  of  Scripture.     286 
CLV.    On  the  Figure  Parrbefia,    or   on  cxprejjing 
one^s  Sentiment'1  s  freely.                             289 
CLVI.   On  Reading  merely  -with  a  Vievj  to  dmufe- 
ment.                                                      292 
CLVII.  On  a  Method  cf  Study,  written  by  Joachim  us 
Fortius  Ringelbergius.                          295 
CLVIII.   On  the  Folly  offacriftcing  Comfort  to  Tafle. 

:98 

CLIX.  On  the  Example  of  Henry  V.  and  the  Lad 
Effefis  of  an  Opinion  that  a  profligate  Youth 
is  likely  to  terminate  in  a  wife  Manhood.  303 


CONTENTS. 

No. 

.  CLX.  A  Good  He  art  necej/ary  to  enjoy  the  Beauties 

of  Nature.  308 

CLXI.   On  the  peculiar  Bafenefs  of  Vice  in  Nobility. 

311 

CLXII.  On  Ajfeftation  of  Extreme  Delicacy  and  Sen- 
fibility.  314 

CLXIII.  On  True  Patience,  as  diftinguijbed from  In- 
fenfebility.  318 

CLXIV.  Curfory  Remarks    en   the  Eloquence   of  the 
Pulpit.     [ In  a  Letter. ]  321 

CLXV.  On  the  fuperior  Value  of  Solid  Accomplijb- 
ments.  A  Dialogue  between  Cicero  and 
IWChefterfield.  327 

CLXVI.  Conjetlures  on  the  Difference  between  Orien- 
tal and  Septentrional  Poetry.  3  30 
C}    CLX VII.   Curfory  Remarks  on  the  Poetry  of  the  Pro- 
phets, o^Ifaiah  in  particular,   and  on  the 
Beauties  of  Biblical  Poetry  in  general.   333 
CLXVIII.   On  Preaching  and  Sermon  Writers.  338 
Q     CLXIX.   On  the  Neglefl  of  Antient  Authors.     [In  a 
Letter.]                                                       345 
£)     CLXX.     On  the  Retirement  of  a  Country  Town,     [la 
a  Letter.]  343 
£}    CLX XI.    Curfory  Thoughts  on  Epiftolary  Writers.   351 
CLXX II.   On  the  Necejfity  of  Excreife,  Amufement,  and 
an  Attention  to  Health  in  a  Life  of  Study. 
[In  a  Letter.]  357 
CLXXIII.    On  the  Merits  of  Cowley  as  a  Poet.          362 
CLXX1V.   Curfory  and  General  Hints  on  the  Choice  of 
Books.  366 
CLXXV.   Curfory  Remarks  on  the  Odjjfey,  on  Pope'/ 
Tranjlation,  Mr.  Spence'j  Eflay,  &c.  371 
CLXX  VI.  Thoughts   on   the   Oedipus   Tyrannus  of  bo- 
phocles,    and  federal   Circumftances   re- 
Jpefling  the  Grecian  Drama.  373 
CLXXVI1.   Curfory  Remarks  on  fame  of  the  Minor  Eng- 
lifh  Poets.  376 
CLXXVIIJ.  Curfery  and  unconnected  Remarks  on  feme  of 
the  Minor  Greek  Poets.  380 
3      CLXXIX.   A  Concluding  E/ay.  388 


ESSAYS, 
MORAL,       &c. 


No.   LXXXII.    ON  THE    MEANS    OF  READING 
WITH   THE  MOST   ADVANTAGE. 


T  is  certain,  that  there  are  many  ftudents  who  im- 
pair  their  health  in  a  continual  courfe  of"  reading  and 
literary  labour,  without  any  adequate  returns  of 
p-eafure  or  improvement.  They  read,  indeed,  becaufe 
they  coniiuer  it  as  a  duty,  or  becaufe  they  arc  endea- 
vouring to  accomplifh  themfelves  for  the  praciice  of  a 
profeffion  ;  but  they  are  ready  to  confefs,  that  the  whole; 
tenour  of  their  ttudies. is  one  continued  toil,  and  thac  MO 
"pleafure  they  derive  from  them  is  by  no  means  a  reco.-n- 
pence  for  exhaufted  fpirits  and  habitual  melancholy. 

With  a  view  to  relieve  ftudents  of  this  defcription, 
who  are  ufually  '-  irtu'ous  and  amiable,  I  will  endeavour 
to  fuggcil  a  few  hints,  which  may  poflibly  contribute  to 
render  their  reading  more  agreeable  and  advantageous. 
But  I  wilh  to  premife,  that  in  what  I  now  lay,  ami  in 
whatever  I  h  we  faid,  in  the  ityle  of  direcYion  ai.u  uivke, 
I  mean  only  to  offer,  not  to  obtrude  ;  to  fubmit,  and 
not  to  dictate. 

In  order  to  receive  the  proper  advantage  from  r-ad- 
ing,  it  muft  be  rendered  a  pleafmg  employment.     II  i- 
man  nature  is  fo  conftituted,  that  no  practice  will  be  con- 
tinued long  and  regmarly,  which  is  not  attend 
fome  degree  of  pleafuie.     We  enter  upon  a  ituj. 
is  irklbme  and  difguftful  with  reluclauce,  we  ausnj    ,-> 

VOL.  II.  B 


2  ESSAYS,  No.  82. 

it  fuperficially,  and  we  relinquim  it  without  reflecting 
upon  it  in  a  degree  fufficient  for  the  purpofe  of  improve- 
ment. Inltead  of  thinking  of  it  uniformly  and  fteadily, 
we  drive  it  from  our  minds  as  the  caufe  of  uneafmefs. 
But  the  heart  and  affe,-'ions,  the  imagination  and  the 
memory,  co  operate  with  the  underftanding,  in  deriving 
all  poffible  advantage  from  the  ftudy  which  we  love. 

The  firft  and  moft  important  object  is,  therefore,  to 
form  a  ftrong  attachment  to  thofe  parts  of  fcience,  or 
to  thofe  books,  which  our  judgment  directs  us  to  ftudy. 
There  are  various  methods  conuucive  to  this  end  ;  but, 
perhaps,  none  are  more  effectual,  than  that  of  con- 
verfing  with  men  of  fenfe  and  genius  on  the  books 
and  the  fubject  which  we  purpofe  to  examine.  There 
is  a  warmth  and  fpirit  in  ccnverfation,  which  renders 
fubjc-cts,  which  might  orherwife  appear  cold  and  life- 
leis,  interelling  and  animated.  When  the  company  is 
departed,  and  the  converfation  at  an  end,  we  are  na- 
turally inclined  to  fee  what  has  been  faid  in  books  on 
the  fubjedts  difcufled  ;  and  the  light  let  in  by  the  pre- 
ceding converfation  is  an  excellent  introduction  and 
guide  to  our  fubfequent  enquiries  made  in  folitude. 

As  foon  as  we  have  obtained,  by  reading,  a  compe- 
tent knowledge  of  a  book  or  particular  fubject,  it  will 
contribute  greatly  to  animate  us  in  proceeding  (till  fur- 
ther, if  we  talk  of  it  either  with  our  equals  in  attain- 
ments, or  with  the  learned  and  experienced.  In  fuch 
converfation  we  venture  to  advance  an  opinion  ;  our  felf- 
love  renders  us  felicitous  to  maintain  it,  we  fn-k  the  aid 
of  a  book  as  an  auxiliary,  we  therefore  read  it  with 
eager  attention  ;  and  I  believe  it  will  be  difficult  to 
avoid  loving  that  which  we  attend  to  frequently  and  with 
eagernefs ;  fo  that,  in  this  manner,  an  attachment  to 
books  and  literary  employments  is  gradually  formed,  and 
what  began  in  labour  or  nectflity  becomes  the  choice, 
and  continues  a  moft  agreeable  pleafure. 

Indeed,  if  we  can  once  fix  our  attention  very  clofely 
on  a  good  book,  nothing  more  will  be  necefTary  to 
jT>;lce  us  love  it:  As  in  nature,  when  two  fubftances 
apj  roach  each  other  very  nearly,  the  attraction  of  co- 
hef.on  faftens  them  together  ;  fo  when  the  mind  at- 
taci.es  itfelf  clofely  to  any  fubject  whatever,  it  becomes, 

as 


No.  8*.  MORAL,     &c.  5 

as  it  were,  united  to  it,  and  gravitates  towards  it  with 
a  fpontaneous  velocity.  There  is,  indeed,  no  ftudy 
fo  dry,  but  by  fixing  our  attention  upon  it,  we  may 
at  laft  find  it  capable  of  affording  great  delight. 
Metaphyfics  and  mathematics,  even  in  their  abltr-fed 
parts,  are  known  to  give  the  attentive  ftudent  a  vi-ry 
exalted  fatisfadlion.  Thofe  parts  then  of  human  learn- 
ing, which  in  their  nature  are  more  entertaining,  can. 
not  fail  of  being  beloved  in  a  high  degree,  when  the 
mind  is  clofely  and  conftantly  applied  to  them. 

In  order  to  acquire  the  power  and  habit  of  fixing  the 
attention,  it  will  at  firll  be  neceffary  to  fummon  a  very 
<onfiderable  degree  of  refoludon.  In  beginning  the 
ftudy  of  a  new  language,  or  any  book  or  fcience.  which. 
prefents  ideas  totally  iirangc,  the  mind  cannot  but  feel 
fame  degree  of  reludlance  or  difguit.  But  let  the  ftu- 
dent  perfevere  ;  and  in  a  very  fhort  time,  the  difguil 
will  vanifh,  and  he  will  be  rewarded  with  entert'.in- 
ment.  Till  this  takes  place,  let  him  make  it  an  invio- 
iable  rule,  however  difagrceable,  to  read  a  certain, 
quantity,  or  for  a  certain  time,  and  he  will  infallibly 
find,  that  what  he  entered  upon  as  a  taflc,  he  will  con- 
tinue as  his  beft  amufernent. 

There  are  many  ftudents  who  fpend  their  days  in. 
txtra&ing  paflages  from  authors,  and  fairly  tranfcrib- 
ing  them  in  their  common-place  book  ;  a  mode  of  ftudy 
truly  miferable,  which  feldom  repays  the  ftudent  either 
with  profit  or  pleafure,  which  waftes  his  time,  and  wears 
out  his  eyes  and  his  conftitution.  I  moft  ferioufly  advife 
all  thofe,  who  have  been  led  to  think,  that  the  exercife 
of  the  hand  can  imprefs  ideas  on  the  brain  ;  who  inter- 
rupt their  attention  by  copying  ;  who  torture  themfelves 
in  abridging,  and  who  thinfc,  by  filling  their  pocket- 
books,  that  they  (hall  enrich  their  underltandings,  to 
flop  while  they  have  eyes  to  fee,  or  fingers  to  write. 
They  have  totally  miftaken  the  road  to  learning  ;  tind, 
if  they  proceed  in  the  way  too  long  a  time,  they  may  fuf- 
fer  fuch  injuries  in  it  as  mall  difable  them  from  return- 
ing, or  feeking  a  better*  After  many  years  fpent  in  this 
wretched  labour,  it  is  no  wonder  thac  they  clofe  their 
books,  and  make  the  oldcomplaint  of  vanity  and  vexation. 
No:hing  really  fervcs  us  in  reading,  but  what  the  mind 
B  2  makes 


4  ESSAYS,  No.  82. 

makes  its  own  by  reflection  and  memory.  That  which 
is  tranfcribed  is  not  in  the  leaft  more  appropriated  than 
when  it  flood  in  the  printed  page.  It  is  an  error,  if  any 
fuppofe,  that  by  the  acl  of  marking  the  words  on  paper 
with  a  pen,  the  ideas  are  more  clearly  marked  on  the 
brain  than  by  an  attentive  and  repeated  perufal. 

The  bell  method  of  extracting  and  epiio  izing,  Is 
to  exprefs  the,  author's  ideas,  after  (hutting  his  book, 
in  our  own  words.  In  this  exercife,  the  memory  is 
exerted,  and  the  ftvle  improved.  We  make  what  we 
-write  our  own  ;  we  think,  \\e  are  aftive,  and  we  do  not 
condemn  ourfelves  loan  employment  merely  manual  and 
mechanical.  But  after  all,  whatever  a  few  may  fay, 
write,  or  think  to  the  contrary,  it  is  certain,  that  the 
greatell  fcholars  were  content  with  reading,  without 
making  either  extracts  or  epitomes.  They  were  fatis- 
fied  with  what  remained  in  their  minds  aher  a  diligent 
pertifal,  and  when  they  wrote,  they  wrote  their  own. 
Reading  is,  indeed,  moll  juitiy  called  the  food  of  the 
mind.  Like  food,  it  mult  be  diverted  and  afnmilated  ; 
it  muil  (hew  its  nutritive  power  by  promoting  growth 
and  llrength,  and  by  enabling  the  mind  to  briii'^  forth 
found  and  vigorous  productions  It  muft  be  converted 
infucciinietjanguimm,  into  juice  and  blocd,  and  not  make 
its  appearance  again  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  origi- 
nally imbibed,  ft  is  indeed  true,  and  the  inilance  may 
be  brought  in  oppofition  io  my  doctrine,  that  Demo- 
ithenes  tranfcribed  Thucydides  eight  times  with  his  own 
hand;  but  it  Ihould  be  remembered,  that  Demolihenes 
flourished  long  before  printing  was  difcovered,  and  that 
]ie  was  induced  to  tranfcribe  .  hucydides,  not  only  for 
the  f:ke  of  improvement,  but  alib  for  the  fake  of  mul- 
tiplying copies  of  a  favourite  author. 

A  due  degree  of  variety  will  contribute  greatly  to 
render  reading  agreeable.  For  though  it  is  tru 
not  more  than  one  or  two  books  mould  be  read  at  once, 
yet,  when  they  are  nnifhed,  it  will  be  proper,  if  any 
wearinefs  is  felt,  to  take  up  an  author  who  writes  in  a^ 
.different  llyle,  or  on  a  different  fubjecl  ;  to  change 
from  poetry  to  profe,  and  from  profe  to  poetr>  ;  to  in- 
teimix  the  moderns  with  the  ancients  ;  alternately  to  lay 
down  the  book  and  to  take  up  the  pen  ;  and  fome- 

times 


No.  82.  M   ORAL,     &c.  5 

times  to  lay  them  both  down,  and  en'er  vv'th  alacrity 
into  agreeable  company  and  public  div.'-rlions  i  he 
:  .  .liter  a  little  cefTatinn,  returns  to  books  with  all 
th  •  voracious  c.^^'neis  of  a  literary  lumber  hut  the 
iiv.i  i  nuiiions  mult  not  be  long,  or  frequent  enough  to 
iorm  a  habit  of  idlenefs  or  diffipatlon. 

Ht-  who  would  r.-ad  with  pleafure  (and  I  repeat, 
th,t  all  who  read  with  real"  profit  muft  read  with  plea- 
fur-),  will  atte'nd  to  the  times  of  the  day,  and  the  feaions 
of  the  year.  The  morning  has  been-univerfally  ap- 
Kuved  as  the  beft  time  for  itudy  ;  the  afternoon  may  be 
mon.  ridvantageoufly  fpent  in  improving  converfation. 
Thoie  laities,  which  before  dinner  are  capable  of  en- 
gaging in  xj,e  acuteit  and  fublimeft  dilutions,  are 
found,  by  ger«rai  experience,  to  be  comparatively  dull 
and  ftupid  after  •„  „  l  know  not  how  h  h>,,  ^  & 
celebrated  writer,  "  ^  ,„  my  phiI0fophy,  in  which 

I  was  fo  warmly  enga:,   ,   in   the  morningf  a 
"  like  nonienfe  as  foon  as  1  ha,^  Jincj  " 

Very  hot  weather  is  particula^  unfavourable  to 
reading.  I  he  months  of  July,  Auguit,  j  September, 
are  by  no  means  the  leafons  in  which  the •;_,,,.  Qf  ^ 
mind  arrive  at  maturity.  A  rigid  philofopher  .,-.j  _ 
hnps  maintain,  that  the  mental  faculties  are  rot  ^  ^g 
air.xted  by  the  viciffitudes  of  cold  and  heat  ;  but  wu. 
will  lilten  to  philofophy,  who  is  already  convinced  by 
aclual  experience  ?  It  is  indeed  remarkable,  that  thefe 
months  are  felefted  for  vacation  in  the  houfes  of  legif- 
lata:e,  in  the  courts  of  law,  and  in  the  feats  of  learn- 
ing. In  cold  and  inclement  weather,  when  we  are 
driven  to  the  fire-fide  for  comfort,  we  find  that  delight 
in  our  books,  which,  in  the  vernal  and  autumnal  fea- 
fon,  we  feek  in  the  funfhine.  and  in  the  Uveets  of  rural 
fcenery.  We  no  longer  roam  abroad,  we  collect  our 
Scattered  ideas,  and  find,  in  the  excrcife  of  rt;r  facul- 
ties, th.it  delight,  which  is  the  c,;,iVquence  ami 
of  exerting,  in  a  proper  method,  the  natuial  ener^izs 
of  the  divine  particle  which  breathes  within  us. 

But  at   all   hours,  and  in   all  k-afons,  if  we  can  re- 

flrain  the  licentious  rovings  of   the    fancy,    footh  the 

pr.flions  of  the  heart,  and  command  our  attention,  fo 

as  to  concentre  it  on  the  fubje«fl  we  examine,  we  fhall 

B  3  be 


6  ESSAYS,  No.  &j. 

t>e  fure  to  find  it  amply  rewarded.  Attend  clofely,  and 
clofe  attention  to  any  worthy  fubje&  will  always  produce 
folid  fatisfaclion  But  particularly  in  reading,  it  may 
be  depended  upon  as  an  approved  truth,  that  the  degree 
of  profit,  as  well  as  pleafure  derived  from  it,  will  ever 
fee  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  attention. 


No.  LXXXIII.  ON  THE  PROPRIETY  OF 
ADORNING  LIFE,  AND  SERVING  SOCIETY^ 
KY  LAUDABLE  EXERTION. 

IN  an  age  of  opulence  and  luxury,  w^n  the  native 
powers  of  the  mind  are  weakened  *Y  vice>  and  ,ha- 
bits  of  indolence  are  fuperindur^  by  umverfal  indul- 
gence,  the  moralift  can  fel^  «f»£  to  fce  examples 
of  that  unwearied  perf<—rance>  °*  lhat  generous  exer- 
tion, which  has  f  netimes^  appeared  in  the  world, 
and  has  been  r-'^d  heroic  virtue.  Indeed,  it  muit  be 
allowed  tl-'t  'n  ^ie  earty  periods  of  fociely  there  is 
greater  V-cafi°n*  as  we^  as  greater  fcope,  for  this  ex- 
^i^^.pecies of  public  fpirit,  than  when  ail  its  real  wants 
,'v-  fupplied,  and  all  its  fecurities  eftablifhed. 

Under  thefe  difadvantages  there  is,  indeed,  little  op- 
portunity for  that  uncommon  heroifm,  which  leads  ati 
individual  to  defert  his  fphere,  and  to  a6l  in  contra- 
diction to  the  maxims  of  perfonal  intereft  and  fafety, 
with  a  view  to  reform  the  manners,  or  to  promote  the 
honour  and  advantage  of  the  community.  Patriotifm, 
as  it  was  underftood  and  praftifed  by  a  Brutus,  a  Cur- 
tius,  a  Scasvola,  or  a  Socrates,  appears  in  modern 
times  fo  eccentric  a  virtue,  and  fo  abhorrent  from  the 
diftates  of  common  fenfe,  that  he  who  fhould  imitate 
it  would  draw  upon  himfelf  the  ridicule  of  mankind, 
and  would  incur  the  danger  of  being  ftigmatized  as  a 
madman.  Moral  and  political  knight-errantry  would 
now  appear  in  fcarcely  a  lefs  ludicrous  light  than  the  ex- 
travagancies of  chivalry. 

But  to  do  good  in  an  effectual  and  extenflve  manner 
\vithin  the  limits  of  profeffional  influence,  and  by  per- 
forming 


No.  83.  MORA  L,    Sec.  ^ 

forming  the  bufinefs  of  a  ftation,  whatever  it  may  be, 
not  only  with  regular  fidelity,  but  with  warm  and  ac- 
tive diligence,  is  in  the  power,  as  it  is  the  duty,  of 
every  individual  who  poffeffes  the  ufe  of  his  faculties. 
It  is  furely  an  unfatisfadlory  idea,  to  live  and  die  with- 
out purfuing  any  other  purpofe  than  the  low  one  of  per- 
fonal  gratification.  A  thoufand  pleafures  and  advantages 
we  have  received  from  the  difmtereiled  efforts  of  thofe 
who  have  gone  before  us,  and  it  is  incumbent  on  every 
generation  to  do  fomething  not  only  for  the  benefit  of 
contemporaries,  but  of  thole  alfo  who  are  to  follow. 

To  be  born,  as  Horace  fays,  merely  to  con  fume  the 
frui  s  of  the  earth  ;  to  live,  as  Juvenal  obferves  of  fome 
of  his  countrymen,  with  no  other  purpofe  than  to  gratify 
the  palate,  though  they  may  in  reality  be  the  fole  ends 
of  many,  are  yet  too  inglorious  and  difgraceful  to  be 
avowed  by  the  bafeft  and  meaneft  of  mankind. 

There  is  however  little  doubt,  but  that  many,  whofe 
lives  have  glided  away  in  an  ufelefs  tenor,  would  have 
been  glad  of  opportunities,  if  they  could  have  difcover- 
ed  them,  for  laudable  exertion.  It  is  certainly  true,  that 
to  qualify  for  political,  military,  literary,  and  patriotic 
efforts,  peculiar  preparations,  accomplifbments,  occa- 
fions,  and  fortuitous  contingencies  are  neceflary.  Civil 
wiidom  without  civil  employment,  valour  without  an, 
enemy,  learning  without  opportunities  for  its  difplay, 
the  love  of  our  country  without  power,  muft  terminate 
in  abortive  vvimes,  in  defigns  unfupported  by  execution. 
They  who  form  great  fchemes,  and  perform  great  ex- 
ploits, muft  of  neceffity  be  few.  But  the  exertions  which 
benevolence  points  out,  are  extended  to  a  great  com- 
pafs,  are  infinitely  varied  in  kind  and  degree,  and  con- 
fequcntiy  adapted,  in  fome  mode  or  other,  to  the  ability 
of  every  individual. 

To  the  diitinguifhed  honour  of  our  times  and  of  our 
country,  it  muit  be  afTerted,  that  there  is  no  fpecies  of 
diltrefs  which  is  not  relieved  ;  no  laudable  ir.ititution 
which  is  not  encouraged  with  an  emulative  ardour  of 
liberality.  No  fooner  is  a  proper  objedl  of  beneficence 
preiented  to  the  public  view,  than  fubfcriptions  are 
railed  by  all  ranks,  who  crowd  with  impatience  to  the 
contribution.  Not  o"nly  the  infirmities  of  age  and  fick- 
B  4  nei's 


8  ESSAYS,  -    No.  83. 

iiefs  nre  footlicd.  by  the  beft  concerted  eftablimments, 
and  the  lo{s/uil?.ined  by  the  calamities  of  a  conflagra- 
tion repaired  ;  but  our  enemies,  when  reduced  to  a  ftate 
of  captivity,  are  furnifhed  with  every  comfort  which 
their  condition  can  admit,  and  all  the  malignity  of 
pnrty  hatred  mehs  into  kindnefs  under  the  operation  of 
charity.  From  the  accumulated  efforts  of  a  community 
of  philanthropies,  fuch  as  our  nation  may  be  called, 
a  fum  of  «ood  is  produced,  far  greater  than  any  re- 
corded of  ihe  heroes  of  antiquity,  from  Bacchus  down 
to  Cccfar. 

ft  has  been  faid,  that  the  ages  of  extraordinary 
bounty  are  pafled.  No  colleges  are  founded  in  the  pre- 
ient  times,  it  is  true;  yet  not  becaufe  there  is  no  pub- 
lic fpirit  remaining,  but  becaufe  there  is  already  a  fuf- 
iicient  number  raifed  by  the  pious  hands  of  our  fore- 
fathers, to  anfwer  all  the  purpoft-s  of  academical  im- 
provement. When  a  want  is  fupplied,  it  is  not  par- 
fjmony,  but  prudence,  which  withholds  additional  mu- 
r.incence.  The  infirmaries  difFufed  over  every  part  of 
the  kingdom,  are  moil  honourable  teftimonies  of  that 
.  is  to  cover  a  multitude  of  fins.  And  there 
is  CM.-  ii,.b-,.:ce  of  beneficence  uncommon  both  in  its  d:-. 
gree  ai,d  circumfhmces,  which,  though  done  without  a 
tiew  to  human  praife,  .muft  not  lofe  even  the  fubordi-" 
nnte  reward  of  human  virtue.  He  who  lately  devoted,, 
during  his  life,  a  noble  fortune  to  the  relief  of  the 
blind,  will  be  placed  bigber'in  the  eileem  of  polterity, 
than  the  numerous  train  of  pofthumous  benefadors, 
who  gave  what  they  could  no  longer  retain,  and  forne- 
times  from  motives  reprefented  by  the  cenforious  as 
little  laudable.  While  angels  record  the  name  of  He- 
therington  in  the  bock  of  life,  let  men  infcribe  it  in  the 
rolls  of  fame. 

The  motive  of  praife,  though  by  no  mean 5  the  befr, 
is  a  generous  and  a  powerful  motive  of  commendable 
conduct.  He  would  do  an  injury  to  mankind  who 
fhould  flifie  the  love  of  fame.  It  has  burnt  with  ftrong 
and  lieady  heat  in  the  bofoms  of  the  moft  ingenuous. 
Jt  has  infpired  enthiifiafm  in  the  caufe  of  all  rhat  is 
good  and  great.  Where  patience  muft  have  failed, 
and  perfeveran.ee  been  wearied',  it  4ias  urged  through 

troubles 


No.  83.  MORAL,    &c.  9 

troubles  deemed  intolerable,  and  ftimulated  through 
difficulties  dreaded  as  infurmountable.  Pain,  penury, 
danger,  and  death,  have  been  incurred  with  alacrity 
in  the  fervice  of  mankind,  with  the  expectation  of  no 
other  recompence  than  an  honourable  dillin&ion.  And 
let  not  the  frigidity  of  philofophical  rigour  damp  this 
noble  ardour,  whi<;h  raifes  deljghtful  fenfations  in  the 
heart  that  harbour-  it,  and  gives  rife  to  all  that  is  fub- 
Hme  in  life  and  in  the  arts.  When  we  are  fo  far  re- 
fined and  fubdued  as  to  ad  merely  from  the  flow  fug- 
geftions  of  the  reafoning  faculty,  we  lha!l  indeed  fel- 
dom  be  involved  in  error ;  but  we  fhall  as  feldom 
atchieve  any  glorious  enterprife,  or  fnatch  a  virtue  be- 
yond the  reach  of  prudence. 

The  fpirit  of  adventure  in  literary  undertakings,  as 
well  as  in  politics,  commerce,  and  war,  muft  not  be 
difcouraged.  If  it  produces  that  which  is  worth  little 
notice,  ncgleft  is  eafy.  There  is  a  great  probability, 
however,  that  it  will  often  exhibit  fomething  condu- 
cive to  pleafure  and  improvement.  But  when  every 
new  attempt  is  checked  by  fr  verity,  or  neglected  with- 
out e-aminction,  learning  Magnates,  and  the  mind  is 
deprefled,  till  its  produilions  fo  far  degenerate  as  to 
julHfy  difregard.  Tafle  and  literature  are  never  long 
Itationary.  When  they  ceaie  to  advance,  they  become 
retrograde. 

Every  liberal  attempt  to  give  a  liberal  entertainment 
is  entitled  to  a  kind  excufe,  though  its  execution  fliould 
not  have  a  claim  to  praife.  For  the  fake  of  encoura- 
ging fubfequent endeavour?,  lenitv  fhould  be  difplayed 
where  there  is  no  appearance  of  incorrigible  ftupidity, 
cf  a/Turning  ignorance,  and  of  empty  felf-conceit.  Se- 
verity chills  the  opening  powers,  as  the  froft  nips  the 
bud  that  would  elfe  have  been  a  bloflbm.  It  is  blame- 
able  morofenefs  to  cenfure  thofe  who  fincerely  mean  to 
pleafe,  and  fail  only  from  caufes  not  in  their  own 
difpofal. 

The  praife,   however,  of  well-meaning  has  ufually 

been  allowed  with  a  facility  of  conceffon,  which  leads 

to  fufpecl  that  it  was  thought  of  little  value.     It  has 

alfo  been  received  with  apparent  mortification.     This 

v       B  5  furely 


10  ESSAYS,  No.  84, 

furely  is  the  refultof  a  perverted  judgment ;  for  inten- 
tion is  in  the  power  of  every  man,  though  no  man  can 
command  ability. 


No.  LX.XXIV.  ON  PHILOSOPHICAL  CRITI- 
CISM, AND  ON  THE  LITTLE  ASSISTANCE  IT 
GIVES  TO  GENIUS. 


A  RISTOTLE  was  the  firft  of  thofe  writers  who 
J~\  endeavoured  to  render  talte  fubjeft  to  philofophy. 
His  poetics  are  almoft  the  only  parts  of  his  works  which 
continue  to  be  efteemed  with  a  degree  of  implicit  ve- 
neration. Mutilated  and  imperfecl.  as  they  have  come 
down  to  us,  they  yet  contain  many  fentences  pregnant 
with  matter,  and  which  lead  the  mind  into  the  moil 
curious  theory.  Yet  it  is  certain,  that  they  never  yet 
formed  a  fingle  poet,  nor  ailiftcd  him  in  any  other 
refpecl  than  in  the  mechanical  contrivance  of  a  plan  ; 
a  defedl  in  which  is  eafily  forgiven,  when  it  is  fupplied 
by  the  native  charms  of  real  genius.  Of  this  our 
Shakefpeare  is  a  proof,  who,  with  all  his  ignorance  of 
critical  refinement,  wrote  in  fuch  a  manner,  as  not 
only  to  be  preferred  by  thofe  who  idolife  him  through 
prejudice,  but  by  the  moft  impartial  readers,  to  ^Ef- 
chylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides. 

Though  the  old  fcholaftic  metaphyfics  were  fcarcely 
evermore  exploded  than  in  the  prefent  times,  yet  there 
is  a  tafle  for  metaphyiical  criticifm  particularly  preva- 
lent among  our  thoughtful  neighbours  in  North  Bri- 
tain The  author  of  the  Elements  of  Criticifm  has 
penetrated  deeply  to  difcern  the  caule  of  thofe  emo- 
tions, which  literary  compofitions  are  found  to  pro- 
duce. He  has  difplayed  great  tafte,  great  elegance, 
great  reading,  and  a  fubtilty  of  enquiry,  which  muft 
have  refulted  from  unwearied  labour,  and  from  a  An- 
gular (hare  of  natural  fagacity.  But  I  believe  no  reader 
ever  found  himfelf  better  able  to  compofe,  after  hav- 
ing peiufed  his  volumes,  than  before  he  f*vv  them. 

Nor 


No.  84.  MORAL,    &c.  it 

Nor  is  it  faid,  that  their  author,  with  all  his  theoreti- 
cal knowledge  of  poetry,  is  himfelf  a  poet  or  an  orator. 
This  is  not  advanced  to  detract  from  his' merit ;  for  it 
is  true  of  Ariilotle,  and  of  all  thofe  writers,  who,  with 
a  genius  for  logic  and  metaphyfics,  have  entered  on 
the  provinces  of  tafte  and  criticifm.  Dr.  Campbell's 
Philofophy  of  Rhetoric  is  a  book  of  uncommon  merit  ; 
it  is  read  with  great  pleafure  and  improvement  j  yet  it 
will  be  readily  owned,  that  it  tends  little  to  form  the 
orator.  The  author  of  the  Origin  and  Progrefs  of 
Language  has  difplayed,  as  Harris  fays,  "  many  ju- 
"  dicious  and  curio  as  remarks  on  ftyle,  competition, 
"  language,  particularly  the  Englifti  ;  obfervations  of 
"  the  lad  confequenwe  to  thofe  who  wrlh  either  to  write 
"  or  judge  with  accuracy  and  elegance. "  This  is  cer- 
tainly true;  and  yet  man  hav  ritten,  and  many  will 
write,  with  accuracy  and  elegance,  without  even  hear- 
ing of  this  excellent  uvaiife. 

Moft  of  the  books  which  the  world  has  agreed  to  ad- 
mire, were  compofed  previoufly  to  the  appearance  of 
fyftematicai  and  abftrufc:  theories  of  critic' fm,  or  by 
authors  who,  it  is  well  known,  j.  :;id  them  no  attention-. 
Homer,  who  is  (till  the  bed  heathen  author  in  the  world, 
had  neither  archetype  nor  inftrudlor.  Ha<l  his  mind 
been  calleu  off  from  the  bock  of  nature,  to  fuch  fpecu- 
lations  as  the  Stagyrtte  afterwards  fabricated,  from  his 
noble  inventions,  there  is  great  reafon  to  believe,  that 
the  Iliad  and  Odyfley  had  long  ago  gone  whi.her  all 
the  coldly  correct  productions  a;e  .!aily  iiaftening. 
Theocritus  would  probably  have  written  with  much  lefs 
cafe  and  fimplicity,  had  he  r*>ad  all  that  critical  inge- 
nuity has  advanced  on  pailoral  poetry.  The  Orations 
of  Demofthenes,  however  elaborate,  were  not  formed 
on  the  models  of  profeffed  rhetoricians.  No  B.-ffu  had 
written  when  Virgil  produced  his  magnificent  work. 
No  treaafes  on  the  fublime  and  oeautifu!  had  appeared, 
when  Milton  poured  his  majeftic  fong.  Nature,  glow- 
ing nature,  fuggefted  the  exquifitely  fine  ideas  as  they 
flowed,  and  left  laborious  criticifm  to  weary  herfelf  in 
forming  rules  and  1\  fteins  from  the  unitudied  efforts  of 
her  happier  temerity. 

B  6  Zt 


12  ESSAYS,  No.  84. 

It  muft  not,  however,  be  immediately  concluded, 
that  thefe  books,  v\hich  difplay  great  ingenuity,  are 
ufelefs,  and  the  refult  of  ill-employed  time  and  tak-nts. 
They  conftitute  a  mod  elegant  fpecies  of  philofophy. 
They  lead  to  a  knowledge  of  ;he  human  heart,  and  the 
operation  of  the  pafiions.  They  require  genius  of  a 
peculiar  kind,  the  fubtile  and  penetrating,  and  they 
pleafe  readers  who  are  pofieiTed  of  a  correfponding 
tafte.  The  point  which  1  mean  to  evince  is,  that  the 
lover  of  poetry,  of  oratory,  of  all  the  objects  of  claf- 
fical  talte,  who  intencis  to  exercife  himfelf  in  the  com- 
pcfition  of  them,  will  find  himfelf  miitaken  in  his  plan 
of  ftudy,  if  he  reads  fuch  writers  as  a  preparatory  dif- 
cipline.  Original  authors  muft  at  firft  engrofs  his  atten- 
tion ;  and  from  thefe,  if  he  is  pofiefled  of  abilities,  he 
will  infenfibly  catch  a  portion  of  fire,  with  which  he  will 
invigorate  his  own  compofitions ;  and  in  confequence  of 
which  he  will  be  read  with  pleafure,  though  he  ihould 
not  have  fludied  one  metaphyfical  critic,  from  Ariilotle 
to  his  modern  rival,  Harris  of  Sali/bury. 

To  learn  in  what  this  noble  difHnclion  of  genius  con- 
fjfb,  has  been  the  fubjeft  of  much  enquiry.  Little  fuc- 
cefs  has  hitherto  attended  it  ;  for  the  mind,  as  it  has 
been  often  faid,  like  the  eye,  though  it  calls  up  all 
rarojre  to  its  view,  cannot  procure  a  fight  of  itfelf. 
With  great  probability,  it  has  been  fuppofed,  that 
genius  is  an  extraordinary  power  of  attention;  a  ca- 
pacity in  the  mind  of  attaching  itfelf  clofely  and 
itror.gly  at  a  glance,  to  every  object  that  folicits  its 
regard  ;  of  taking  in  the  whole  of  it  in  all  its  diftant 
relations,  dependencies,  modifications,  origin,  and 
confequertces.  But  if  we  allow  an  extraordinary  power 
of  attention  to  be  genius,  which  perhaps  cannot  be  al- 
lowed, the  queflion  recurs,  by  what  means  this  atten- 
tion is  caufed  and  fecured  ?  Thus  far  the  name  is  only 
charged,  and  the  fubjeft  ftill  involved  in  its  original 
difficulty." 

It  is  too  obvioufly  true  to  be  controverted,  that  there 
is  an  efiential  difference  in  the  organization  of  different 
i,  en  ;  not  merely  in  the  external  form,  but  in  the  in- 
itnor  ftru&ure  of  the  inviiibJe  fprings,  which  regulate 

all 


No.  84.  MORAL,     &c.  i£ 

all  the  animal  tendencies  and  motions.  It  is  highly  pro- 
bable, that  a  delicate  fyftem  of  nerves,  or  a  firmer  con- 
texture of  them,  is  better  able  to  obferve  the  external 
world  with  unerring  accuracy,  than  a  more  callous  or  a 
more  relaxed  aftemblage  of  thefe  inftruments  of  fenfa- 
tion.  Tins  favourable  predifpcfition  of  the  organs,  fol- 
lowed by  peculiar  opportunities  for  collecting  ideas,  and 
by  inducements  to  impart  them  to  the  world,  may  per- 
haps conllitute  what  we  call  literary  genius. 

There  is  indeed  little  doubt,  but  that  fome  kind  of  ge- 
nius, or,  in  other  words,  fome  peculiar  ability  to  receive 
a  certain  train  of  ideas  neceflary  to  the  pra.'.ice  of  feme 
art,  or  to  the  purfuit  of  fome  profeflion,  is  pofleffed  by 
every  individual  not  in  a  ftate  of  idiotifm.  Nature,  a 
kind  parent  to  all-herchildren,  has  ufually  endowed  them 
all  with  a  power  of  exerting  themfelves,  in  fome  way  or 
other,  with  fkill  and  advantage.  The  misfortune  has 
been,  that  the  indications  of  nature  are  not  always  fuffi- 
ciently  manifcit  to  the  conductors  of  education.  Thede- 
ftination  is  often  neceflariiy  fixed,  before  the  faculties  are 
arrived  at  fuflicient  ftrength  to  point  out  their  propenfity. 

Univerfal  genius  is  indeed  (paringly,  perhaps  never, 
bellowed.  For  the  prefervaiion  of  impartiality,  where 
nature  has  allowed  an  excellence  in  any  remarkable  de- 
gree, fhe  has  often  permitted  a  defed  to  counterbalance 
it.  Yet  in  the  literary  annals  of  almoil  every  nation,  we 
find  many  diftinguifhed  by  intellectual  endowments  above 
the  ordinary  condition  of  humanity.  It  is  a  noble  privi- 
lege to  excel  men  in  the  very  perfection  by  which  they 
furpafs  the  irrational  animals,  and  is  doubtlefs  permitted 
by  Providence,  in  a  few  individuals,  for  the  happinefs  of 
mankind.  Let  it  be  confidered,  as  an  inftance  of  the 
advantage  which  mankind  derives  from  fingular  genius, 
what  a  train  of  light  has  been  diffufed  far  and  wide  on 
thoufands  and  tens  of  thoufands,  for  the  fpace  of  near 
twenty  hundred  years,  from  the  illumined  undemanding 
of  the  individual  Cicero.  Or,  to  take  an  example  from, 
our  own  polifhed  age  and  country,  let  a  conjecture  be 
formed  of  the  number  of  thoie  who  have  been  led  to 
every  thing  good  and  great  by  an  Addilon. 

The  world,  hov.ever,  has  feldom  been  grateful  to  its 
benefactors.  It  has  neglected,  baniftied,  poifoned,  and 

crucified 


14  ESSAYS,  No.  85. 

crucified  them.  But  there  was  an  inward  fatisfa&ion  in 
confcious  rectitude,  a  generous  fpirit  in  heroic  virtue, 
which  bore  them  through  every  thing  with  comfort,  and 
their  merit  increafed  and  triumphed  in  adverfity. 

They  who  have  been  pofiefled  of  fubordinate  degrees 
of  genius,  have  in  later  times  been  induced  to  affect  a 
Angularity  of  fentiment  and  practice,  in  order  to  draw 
upon  themfelves  the  eyes  of  mankind.  In  purfuic  of 
this  end,  they  have  adopted  vices  and  principles  which 
their  hearts  and  underftanding  muft  have  condemned. 
Eccentricity  has  been  the  object  of  their  wifhes.  Ruin 
and  difgrace  h;ive  been  the  ufual  confequences,  and  the 
admiration  of  others  has  at  laft  been  extinguimed  in  com- 
paffion.  Poor  man  !  it  has  been  often  exclaimed,  he  was 
indeed  clever,  but  he  wanted  conduct,  and  he  unfortu- 
nately died  in  a  gaol. 

If  moral  could  be  combined  with  mental  excellence; 
if  the  native  vigour  of  genius  could  fubmit  to  be  guided 
and  retrained  by  the  decifions  of  well-conducted  art; 
then  might  be  fupplied,  what  none  will  venture  to  ex- 
pect, the  two  grand  defiderata  in  morals  and  literature, 
a  perfect  man  and  a  perfect  work.  But  before  perfection 
can  be  reafonably  expected  in  any  thing  which  belongs 
to  man,  this  mortal  muft  put  on  immortality,  and  this 
corruptible,  incorruption. 


No.  LXXXV.  ON  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  A 
GOOD  CHARACTER,  CONSIDERED  ONLY  WITH 
RESPECT  TO  INTEREST. 


Ai 
they  are  therefore  influenced  in  the  choice  of  a 
conduct  by  different  inducements,  the  moralift  muft  omit 
no  motive,  however  fubordinate  in  its  nature,  while  it 
appears  likely  to  lead  fome  among  mankind  to  a  laud- 
able, or  even  a  blamelefs  behaviour.  A  regard  to  eafe, 
tointereft,  and  to  fuccefs,  in  the  ufual  purfuits  of  wealth 
and  ambition,  may  induce  many  topurfue  an  honeftand 

honourable 


No.  85.  MORAL,     &c.  IJ 

honourable  conduct,  who  would  not  have  been  influ- 
enced by  purer  motives :  but  who,  after  they  have  once 
perceived  the  intrinsic  excellence  and  beauty  of  fuch  a 
conduct,  will  probably  perfevere  in  it  for  its  own  fake, 
and  upon  higher  considerations. 

To  thofe  who  are  to  make  their  own  way  either  to 
wealth  or  honours,  a  good  character  is  ufually  no  lefs 
necefTary  than  addrefs  and  abilities.  Though  humaft 
nature  is  degenerate,  and  corrupts  itfelf  flill  more  by  it* 
own  inventions;  yet  it  ufually  retains  to  the  laft  am 
efleem  for  excellence.  But  even  if  we  are  arrived  at 
fuch  an  extreme  degree  of  depravity  as  to  have  loft  our 
native  reverence  for  virtue  ;  yet  a  regard  to  our  own  in- 
tereft  and  fafety,  which  we  feldoin  lofe,  will  lead  us  to> 
apply  for  aid,  in  all  important  tranfactions,  to  men 
whofe  integrity  is  unimpeached.  When  we  chufe  an 
afliftant,  a  partner,  a  fervant,  our  firft  enquiry  is  con- 
cerning his  character.  When  we  have  occalion  for  a 
connfellor  or  attorney,  a  phyfician  or  apothecary,  what- 
ever we  may  be  ourfelves,  we  always  chufe  to  truft  our 
property  and  perfons  to  men  of  the  bell  character. 
When  we  fix  on  the  tradefmen  who  are  to  fupply  us 
with  neceflaries,  we  are  not  determined  by  the  fign  of 
the  lamb,  or  the  wolf,  or  the  fox  ;  nor  by  a  mop  fitted 
up  in  the  mod  elegant  tafte,  but  by  the  faireil  reputa- 
tion. Look  into  a  daily  newfpaper,  and  you  will  fee, 
from  the  highell  to  the  loweft  rank,  how  important  the 
characters  of  the  employed  appear  to  the  employers. 
After  the  advertifement  has  enumerated  the  qualities  re- 
quired in  the  perfon  wanted,  there  conftantly  follows,, 
that  none  need  apply  who  cannot  bring  an  undeniable 
character.  Offer  yourfelf  as  a  candidate  for  a  feat  in 
parliament,  be  promoted  to  honour  and  emolument,  or 
in  any  refpect  attract  the  attention  of  mankind  upon 
yourfelf,  and  if  you  are  vulnerable  in  your  character, 
you  will  be  deeply  wounded.  This  is  a  general  tclli- 
mony  in  favour  of  honefty,  which  no  writings  and  no 
practices  can  poffibly  refute. 

Young  men,  therefore,  whofe  characters  are  yet  un- 
fixed, and  who,  confequently,  may  render  them  juft  iuch 
as  they  wifh,  ought  to  pay  great  attention  to  the  firft 
fleps  which  they  take  on  entrance  into  life.  They  are 
j  ufually 


16  ESSAYS,  No.  85. 

ufually  carelefs  and  inattentive  to  this  object.  They 
purfue  their  own  plans  with  ardour,  and  negleil  the  opi- 
nions which  others  entertain  of  ihem.  By  fome  thought- 
lefs  a  3  ion  or  expreiTmn,  they  fuffer  a  mark  to  be  i;n- 
prefied  upon  them,  which  fcarcely  any  iubiequent  merit 
can  entirely  erafe.  Every  man  will  find  ibme  perfons, 
who,  though  they  are  not  profefied  enemies,  yet  view 
him  with  an  envious  or  a  jealous  eye;  and  who  will 
gladly  revive  any  tale  to  uhicn  truth  has  given  the 
flighted  foundation. 

Indeed,  all  men  are  fo  much  inclined  to  flatter  their 
own  pride,  by  detracting  from  the  reputation  of  others, 
tljat  fuppoiing  we  were  able  to  maintain  an  immaculate 
conduct,  it  would  ftill  be  difficult  to  preferve  an  imma- 
culate character.  But  yet  it  is  wifdom  not  to  furnifh 
this  detracting  fpirit  with  real  fab; eels  for  the  exercife  of 
its  activity.  While  calumny  is  fupported  only  by  ima- 
gination, or  by  malice,  we  may  fometimes  remove,  by 
contradicting  it ;  but  wherever  folly  or  vice  have  fup- 
plied  facts,  we  can  feidom  do  more  than  aggravate  the 
evil,  by  giving  it  an  apparent  attention.  The  malignity 
of  fome  among  the  various  difpofitions  of  which  man- 
kind are  compofed,  is  often  highly  gratified  at  the  view 
of  injured  fenfibility. 

In  this  turbulent  and  con fu fed  fcene,  where  cur  words 
anc:  Actions  are  often  mifunderftood,  and  oftener  mifre- 
prefented,  it  is  indeed  difficult  even  for  innocence  and 
integrity  to  avoid  reproach, -abafe,  contempt  and  hatred. 
Thefe  not  only  hurt  our  interelt  and  impede  our  advance- 
ment in  life,  but  foiely  afflict  the  feelings  of  a  tender  and 
delicate  mind.  It  is  then  the  part  of  wifdom  firft  to  do 
eve'-y  thing  in  our  power  to  preferve  an  irreproachable 
character,  and  then  to  let  our  happinefs  depend  chiefly 
on  the  approbation  of  our  own  confciences,  and  on  the 
advancement  of  our  -'ntcreft  in  a  world  where  liars  mail 
not  be  believed,  and  where  flanderers  (hall  receive  coun- 
.tinance  from  none  but  him  who,  in  Greek,  is  called,  by 
way  of  eminence,  Diabolus,  or  the  Calumniator. 


No.  LXXXVI, 


No.  86.  MORAL,     &c.  17 


No.  LXXXVI.  ON  THE  OSTENTATIOUS  AF- 
FECTATION OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  A 
LEARNED  LADY,  WITHOUT  SUFFICIENT 
LEARNING,  AND  WITHOUT  JUDGMENT.. 


THE  moft  attractive  beauty  of  the  perfon  refuhs 
from  the  graces  of  the  mind.  Delicacy,  fweet- 
nefs,  fenfe,  and  fenfibility,  mining  in  the  eyes,  will  com- 
penfatean  irregularity  of  features,  and  will  fooner  excite 
love  in  a  feeling  heart,  than  the  beft  formed  face"  and  the 
finrft  complexional  liu*  without  exprefiio-  . 

Nature  muft  indeed  have  laid  the  foundation  of  thefe 
amiable  qualities  in  the  difpofition  ;  but  they  are  by  no 
methods  fo  effectually  called  forth  and  improved,  as  by 
the  cultivation  of  a  literary  tafte.  In  a  vulgar  inter- 
courfe  with  the  world,  we  cannot  avoid  feeing  and  feel- 
ing the  difagreeable  pafiions  ;  fuch  as  have  an  effed  in 
diftorting  the  countenance,  and  in  giving  to  the  eyes  an 
envious,  a  proud,  a  difdainful,  or  an  artful  afpecl ;  than 
which  r.othing'is  more  repugnant  to  the  power  of  per- 
nal  allurement.  Eyes  that  unfortunately  have  acquir- 
ed any  of  thefe  appearances,  whatever  beauties  they  may 
be  furrounded  with,  poflefs  a  repellent  influence,  and 
operate  like  the  bafilifk.  But  however  wicked  the  world 
is,  books  are  for  the  moft  part  ftill  virtuous.  Human 
nature  appears  in  them  in  its  moft  pleafing  colours. 
They  infpire  generous  and  tender  fentiments.  She  who 
is  judicioufly  converfant  with  them,  will  find  her  coun- 
tenance improving  as  her  mind  is  informed,  and  her  look 
ennobled  ;is  her  heait  i.->  elevated.  This  mull  be  a  power- 
ful motive  ffr  application  among  the  ladies  ;  and  they 
may  reft  affured,  that  perfonal  and  mental  beauty, 
though,  when  feparate,  their  dominion  is  net  abfolute, 
are  truly  irrefiftible  and  delpotic  when  combined. 

An  application  to  books,  however,  is  often  found  not 

nee  any  attractive  effects ;   nor  is  it  to  be  wondered 

at,  when  it  is  conducted  in  an  injudicious  and  cefuhory 

manner. 


13  ESSAYS,  No.  86. 

manner.  The  advice  of  friends  is  at  nrft  necefiary  to 
point  out  the  kind  of  books,  and  the  times,  the  modes, 
and  the  degrees  of  ftudy.  Superficial  and  ill-direded 
reading  tends  to  infpire  the  moft  odious  of  all  vanity, 
and  to  occafion  a  behaviour  truly  ridiculous. 

Sempronia  has  itudied  all  the  Magazines  for  thefe  ten 
years  pad,  and  has  now  and  then  obtained  the  honour  of 
contributing  a  little  piece  to  feme  of  her  admired  mifcel- 
lanies.  This  flattering  diftindlion,  as  (he  thinks  it,  has 
greatly  elevated  her  in  her  own  opinion.  She  deems  it 
fufficient  to  emancipate  her  from  the  ufual  decorums  of 
external  behaviour.  She  talks  with  an  overbearing  con- 
fidence, which,  if  fhe  were  not  excufed  becaufe  the  is  a 
profefled  wit,  would  be  intolerable  rudenefs.  Her  atten- 
tion to  the  mufes  has  excluded  the  graces  from  any  mare 
of  her  notice.  If  you  call  upon  her  in  the  morning,  you 
find  her  with  flipfhod  (hoes,  no  apron,  matted  hair,  a 
dirty  face,  a  cap  awry,  and  fingers  begrimed  with  ink. 
If  you  afk  her  in  what  me  is  exercifmg  her  genius,  fhe 
informs  you  me  is  writing  a  Pindaric  Ode  on  Spring, 
and  is  looking  in  Byrne's  Art  of  Poetry  for  a  rhyme  to 
trees.  It  muft  be  fent  immediately,  fhe  fays,  or  it  will 
not  be  inferted  this  month.  She  hopes,  therefore,  that 
fhe  may  be  excufed  in  declining  company.  Her  vifitor 
has  reafon  to  rejoice  at  the  difmiffion  ;  for  the  fight  of 
Ber,  as  Swift  lefs  delicately  fays  of  Caelia,  will  operate 
as  an  emetic,  and  the  fmell  as  a  poifon. 

Corinna  happened  to  fall  upon  fome  of  the  works  of 
our  modern  fceptics.  She  could  not  understand  them 
perfectly ;  but  fhe  difcovered  enough  to  be  affured  that 
fcepticifm  v^as  fuppofed  to  be  a  mark  of  fuperior  fenfe, 
of  a  freedom  from  thofe  narrow  prejudices  which  enthral 
the  vulgar.  She  cannot  therefore  talk  on  common  af- 
fairs ;  but  when  fhe  gets  into  company  with  enlightened 
people,  fhe  expatiates  on  the  happinefs  of  pofibffing  a 
philofophical  turn,  and  pities  the  poor  narrow  fouls  who 
go  to  church  and  perform  all  their  duties,  as  they  call 
them,  with  mechanical  regularity,  juft  like  their  great 
grandmothers.  Voltaire,  Roufleau,  Bolingbrokc,  and 
Hume,  are  her  oracles.  She  is  dreaded  by  her  own  fex, 
and  indeed  voluntarily  gives  up  their  fbciety.  But  the 
men  fhe  thinks  more  entertaining,  more  converfable,  and 


No.  86.  MORAL,    &c.  19 

lefs  (hackled  with  prejudices.  She  imagines  herfelf  par- 
ticularly attended  to  by  them ;  and  indeed  there  are  fome 
humourifts  who  liften  to  her  converfaiion,  in  order  to  lay 
up  llore  for  ridicule.  All  who  are  judges  condemn  and 
diflike  her  for  entering  into  ftudies  which  have  a  natural 
tendency  to  darken  the  underftanding  and  to  corrupt  the 
heart,  and  which  are  peculiarly  odious  in  thofe  who  were 
formed  to  increafe  the  comforts  of  life,  and  not  to  cut 
them  off  by  diffufing  the  gloomy  notions  of  the  fceptic. 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  Fulvia  to  live  next  door  to  a 
circulating  library.  In  every  moment  of  liftleflhefs  the 
maid  was  difpatched  for  a  handful  of  novels,  no  matter 
by  whom  they  were  written,  or  what  they  were  in  them- 
felves,  provided  they  were  fentimental.  By  an  uninter- 
rupted courfe  of  fuch  reading,  (he  had  acquired  a  tafte  for 
anecdotes,  private  hiltory,  and  all  that  relates  to  the  ef- 
fecls  of  love,  which,  (he  was  led  to  think,  formed  the 
great  bufmefs  of  human  life.  Her  heart  had  been  a 
thoufand  times  melted,  and  pierced,  and  fmitten,  and 
wounded,  and  was  at  lalt  fo  mollified,  that  me  felt  the 
tendereil  fentiments  for  every  man  with  little  diftinction. 
She  could  not  pafs  a  few  moments  in  a  private  interview 
with  a  male  acquaintance,  without  being  confcious  of 
tender  fentiments  for  him.  She  often  doubted  whether 
fhe  ought,  upon  the  whole,  to  rejoice  or  lament  that  me 
was  endowed  with  fuch  extreme  fenfibility.  But  to  be 
fure,  fo  it  was,  her  poor  heart  was  fo  full  of  love,  that 
every  one  who  approached  might  have  a  mare  unafked. 
Her  voice  was  faint  and  tremulous;  her  refinements  were 
elegant  to  a  degree  inconceivable.  She  was  hardly  fit 
for  this  low  orb.  She  was  always  miferable,  except 
when  pouring  out  her  fentiments  in  letters  to  fome  be- 
loved Eudoxus.  She  was,  in  (hort,  too  tender,  too  fuf- 
ceptible,  too  pure,  too  elevated,  to  live  in  this  world ; 
and  fo  every  body  faid,  till,  in  evil  hour,  me  ran  away 
with  a  corporal  quartered  in  the  town,  and  has  never 
been  heard  of  fince. 

Lelbia,  when  very  young,  wrote  a  few  rhymes,  whicli, 
as  her  age  was  considered,  were  much  applauded  by  her 
friends.  Flufhed  with  praife,  (he  confidered  herfelf  as 
a  fecond  Sappho,  and  has  ever  fince  been  devoted  to  the 
mufes.  Her  reading  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  poet's 

corner 


20  ESSAYS,  No.  86. 

corner  Jn  nevvfpapers,  and  her  prod  unions  hive  rivalled 
her  models.  She  compofes  acnigmas,  acrcfti  s,  rebufics, 
and  fongs,  for  thofe  little  red  pocfket-books  \v. 
annually  publiflied  for  th?  ladies,  and  ilie  h?s  Ivid  the 
honour  of  gaining  the  reward  fir  expounding  The  Pii/e 
Riddle.  Within  the  circle  of  her  acquaintance  fhc  is 
much  admired.  If  a  wedding  happens  among  any  of 
them,  fhe  pays  for  her  bride-cake  with  an  epithalamium  ; 
and  flie  keeps  in  her  drawers,  like  haberdafhers  wares  in 
a  fhop,  odes,  elegies,  and  epigrams,  adapted  to  every 
occafion.  But,  while  me  is  foaring  on  the  wings  of 
poetical  genius  in  her  ftudy,  her  poor  little  boys  and 
girls  are  left  to  the  company  of  the  fcullion  in  the 
kitchen.  Her  mind  is  extremely  active,  and  it  is  but 
juRice  to  allow,  that  fhe  neglects  nothing  but  her  duty. 

Of  all  fubjects,  politics  feem  the  lea  ft  adapted  to  the 
female  character.  Women  are  excluded,  by  the  rude 
framers  of  our  confti'tution,  from  all  leg-illative  influ- 
ence-; and,  it  is  well  known,  that  public  affairs  are  fel- 
dorn  treated  with  temper,  either  in  writing  or  converfa- 
tion.  But  the  female  politician  is  by  no  means  uncom-- 
mon.  Cornelia  derives  all  her  learning,  of  which  fhe 
thinks  fhe  pofiefTes  an  ample  {hare,  from  the  mifcella- 
neous  volumes  of  a  Woodfall.  She  has  herfelf  fome- 
times  ventured  to  communicate  a  paragraph  or  two,  and 
has  been  delighted,  even- to  rapture,  with  the  thought, 
that  a  plan  or  conjecture  of  hers  has  been  wafted  through- 
out the  empire  by  fo  rapid  a  conveyance.  On-common 
fubjects  fhe. is  mild  and  reasonable;  but  while  the  gentle- 
men are  talking  politics,  fhe  fubmits  with  great  re- 
luftance  to  the  frigid  rules  of  decorum,  which  require 
that  fhe  fhould  pay  attention  to  the  ladies.  Her  colour 
comes  and  goes  for  a  long  time,  till  at*laft  fhe  can  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  burfts  out  with  a  blaze  of  eloquence, 
fcarcely  rivalled  in  the  moft  famous  fchools  of  oratory, 
thofe  of  Athens  or  of  Billingfgate.  A  treaty  of  :n  \r- 
riage  was  on  foot  fome  time  ago  ;  but  after  t 
liiiiinaries  were  all  fettled,  and  a  day  for  the  ratification 
of  the  articles  fixed,  a  rupture  epfued  on  the  adjuil- 
ment  of  the  balance  of  power,  and  hoitilities  have  not 
yet  ceaied,  nor  is  a  coalition  of  the  parties  lil 
take  place. 

In 


No.  "86.  MORAL,     Sec.  21 

In  thefe  few  instances,  and  in  thofe  many  which  ob- 
fervation  i.i'  -t;;e  world  will  fupply,  there  feems  to  have 
been  an  original  fii'd  of  parts,  and  a  love  of  books, 
which,  properly  directed,  would  have  led  to  great  im- 
provements. Bat  vague  indultry  and  unguided  emula- 
tion, fliinuhted  to  pc-rlrr  in  a  wrong  path  by  the  partial 
|  •••["  friends  and  relations,  have  precipitated  even  the 

amiably  di:'p:>fed  into  unfuppc.ried  vanity,  -and  caufed 
them  to  d  ilii.guiiii  themfelves  without  acquiring,  fio- 

11'    U." 

I'o  be  r.ffcft-d  in  any  way  is,  at  all  times,  in  all 
.  and  in  all  decrees,  to  be  liiugreeable  But  af- 
fectation  of  learning  and  authorship,  in  a  woman  with 
very  little  merit,  draws  upon  itielf  the  contempt  and 
hatred  of  both  fexes  They  who  excel  oil  in  either 
fex-,  are  found  by  experience  to  b?  moil  candid  and  mo- 
deft;  to  aflame  ieaft,  and  to  join  in  conversation  with, 
others,  withi  ;  the  ienCe  of  their  fuperimty. 

Indeed  it  often  happens,  thar  there  is  an  amiable  humi- 
lity in  true  genius  and  learning,  \vhuh  compel  the  pof- 
fellbr  of  them  to  think  diffidently  of  his  own  character, 
amid  the  united  pruiies  of  all  around.  Let  her  then, 
who' pofTefles  the  bright  jf.velt  of  genius  and  learning, 
take  care  to  let  them  in  a  pL.in  manner,  and  their  luftre 
will  difpLy  a  luit:onal  briiiiancy. 

In  theembellifhment  of  the  perfon,a  fufficient  degree 
of  care  is  ufua-ly  t:ik;-n  tnat  nothing  unbecoming  lhall 
have  a  place  in  it.  A  :e«ard  is  commonly  paid  to  age, 
rank,  and  every  circumitance  which  can  point  out  the 
line  of  propriety.  But  in  adorning  the  mind,  it  is  ufual 
to  attend  to  little  elfe  but  the  dictates  of  inclination. 
Yet  there  i  certainly  a  kinu  of  fexual  difference  in  the 
mind'  of  the  Ic-xcr,,  which  admits  and  requires  a  d.iferent 
fpecies  of  int  llefl  ;.l  ftccjomplilhrnent-  (Economy  is 
laid,  indeed,  to  be  the  peculiar  province  of  women  ;  yet 
furely,  as  rational  beings,  their  reafon  may  properly  re- 
ceive tii  e  cultivation  Nor  fliould  their 
attainments  occaiion  contempt  or  negled,  unlels  they 
are  fullied  by  obtruding  arrogance,  by  a  mafculiae  bold- 
neis,  a  critical  ieverity,  and  an  ill-timed  and  injudicious 
oitentation. 

No.  LXXXVII. 


ESSAYS,  No.  87. 


No.  LXXXVII.  ON  THE  FOLLY  AND  WIC- 
KEDNESS OF  NEGLECTING  A  FAMILY  AND 
CHILDREN,  FOR  THE  PLEASURES  OF  DISSI- 
PATION. 


THOUGH  it  may  be  true,  as  it  has  been  aflert- 
ed,  that  one  age  is  not  better  than  another,  yet 
k  is  obvious  to  remark  that  the  modes,  if  not  the  de- 
grees, of  vice,  have  varied  at  different  periods;  and 
that,  of  modes  equally  criminal  in  themfelves,  fome 
are  particularly  deftriidVive.  Whatever  have  been  the 
manners  of  preceding  times,  in  our  country,  I  be- 
lieve it  will  be  readily  allowed,  that  the  middle  ranks 
were  never  univerfally  infecled  with  the  love  of  a  diffi- 
pating  life,  till  the  prefent  age.  Domeftic  induftry 
•and  ceconomy,  or  the  qualities  diftingiiiftied  by  the 
homely  titles  of  thriftinefs  and  good  houfevvifery,  were 
always,  till  the  prefent  century,  deemed  honourable. 
They  are  now,  however,  difcarded  in  difgrace  ;  and  in 
their  place  have  fucceeded  a  paffionate  love  of  (how 
without  fubftance,  a  never-ceafing  attention  to  drefs, 
and  an  infatiable  hunger  and  thirft  after  diverfions 
public  and  private. 

Whoever  conhders  the  natural  effecl:  of  exceflive  in- 
dulgence, in  relaxing  and  weakening  the  tone  of  the 
mind,  will  immediately  perceive  how  pernicious  it  muft 
Be  to  human  nature,  in  general,  and  to  each  particular 
fociety.  Thrre  can  remain  neither  inclination,  nor 
ability  for  exertion,  when  the  firings  which  ihould  give 
«lafli  ity  are  all  loofe  or  broken  ;  and  without  exertion 
what  is  man  ?  Behold  what  he  is  in  the  womanifh  court 
of  an  oriental  tyrant.  Sunk  in  floth,  and  proftrate  in 
meannefs,  poor  human  nature,  in  fuch  a  fituation, 
fcarcely  equals,  in  fpirit  or  ingenuity,  the  monkey  and 
baboon. 

But  I  mean  not  to  enlarge  on  diffipation  in  general, 
but  to  confider  its  «ffe&s  in  the  limited  circle  of  private 

families  j 


No.  87.  MORAL,     &c.  23 

families;  from  which,  however,  it  gradually  extends  its 
influence  over  the  whole  commun'ty,  throughout  all  its 
departments,  like  the  undulations  of  a  pebble  thrown 
into  a  pool. 

Let  us  fuppofe  a  married  couple  in  the  middle  ranks 
of  life  (and  1  feleft  my  inftances  from  the  middle  ranks 
becaufe  they  are  the  mod  numerous  and  important). 
Let  us  fuppofe  them  juft  fetting  out,  as  it  is  called,  in 
the  world.  The  firft  objecl  is  to  form  and  extend  con- 
nexions. The  oftenfible  motive  is  the  advancement  of 
the  family  intereft;  the  real  and  moft  powerful  motive, 
the  love  of  various  company,  in  a  continual  fuccefiion. 
Dinners  and  fuppers,  dancing  and  card-playing,  leave 
little  time,  and  no  inclination,  for  the  fober  bufmefs  of 
the  trade  or  profeflu  n.  A  neglefled  trade  or  profeflion 
cannot  fucceed  ;  and  the  poor  young  peop  e,  after  hav- 
ing fpent  the  little  and  hard-earned  patrimony  which, 
it  may  be,  thHr  affectionate  parents  beftowed  on  them, 
live  the  reft  of  their  lives  in  fome  poor  lodging  in  penury 
or  fervitude,  or  die  of  difappointment. 

But  if,  by  uncommonly  good  fortune,  they  avoid 
bankruptcy  or  ruin,  yet  their  love  of  diflipation  never 
fails  to  poifon  that  happinefs  which  it  pretends  to 
fw^eten.  It  prevents  them  from  performing  the  moft 
indifpenfable  duties,  and  living  the  life  of  rational 
creatures.  All  heads  of  families  are  prefidents  of  little 
focieties,  which  they  are  bound  to  regulate  by  precept 
and  example.  But  how  fhaii  they  be  qualified  to  do 
this,  who  are  feldom  at  hem",  and  who,  when  they  are 
there,  are  conltantly  engaged  in  vanity.  Their  own  cor- 
ruption defcends,  with  additional  malignity  of  influence, 
to  the  loweft  menial  fervant,  who  has  fought  protection 
beneath  their  roof. 

But  let  us  confider  them  in  the  relation  of  parents. 
Nothing  can  be  more  incor.filtent  with  the  life  of  a 
lady,  who  delights  in  the  fafhionable  amufements,  than 
the  care  of  her  new-born  child.  Her  drefs  would  be 
difconcerted,  and  herfhape  fpoiied,  were  (he  to  attempt 
to  feed  it  herfelf  with  the  food  which  nature  has  made 
convenient  for  it.  She  could  not  be  abfent  from  home. 
She  muft  be  liable  to  interruption  at  all  hours.  Her 
health  alfo  muft  fail  under  fo  conitant  a  fatigue,  added 

to 


24  ESSAYS,  No.  R7. 

to, the  neceflary  toils  of  the  ball  and  card- table,  Her 
phyfician,  for  me  takes  care  to  keep  the  dodor  on  her 
fide,  declares,  that  from  the  delicate  imbecility  of  her 
conftitution,  it  would  be  highly  improper  for  her  to 
fubmit  to  the  exhaufting  tafk  of  fuckling  an  infant. 
The  little  one,  therefore,  vvhofe  heavenly  fmiles  would 
repay  every  maternal  care,  is  fent  to  the  cottage,  or  the 
garret,  of  ibme  hireling  nurfe.  There,  amidit  poverty, 
hunger,  and  naftinefs,  it  drags  a  precarious  exigence, 
with  ,.o  attention,  but  the  cold  charity  of  a  mercenary 
woman,  s\ho  has  often,  at  the  fame  time,  a  child  of 
her  own  to  engrofs  her  maternal  endearments.  The 
mother,  in  the  mean  time,  is  engaged  in  the  gay  circle 
of  an  aflembly,  loiing  that  money  at  cards,  or  fpending 
it  in  drels  and  pleafures,  which  ought  to  pay  her  huf- 
band's  creditors.  Ah!  little  thinks  flie  how  her  poor 
infant,  which  ought  to  be  foftered  in  her  bofom,  is  be- 
wailing, in  the  expreffive  language  of  tears,  the  neglect, 
and  the  harfh  treatment  it  undergoes,  in  the  dreary 
haunts  of  want  and  mifery.  Many  a  severe  menace,  and 
many  a  hard  blow,  does  the  fweet  babe  receive  from  the 
pafiionate  and  ignorant  nurfe,  at  which  a  mother's  heart 
would  bleed,  if  it  were  not  loft  to  fenfibility.  Poor 
nts,  unhappy  orphan?,  deferted  in  your  helplefs 
flate,  by  thole  who  have  brought  you  into  a  wretched 
world  ;  imy  lie  who  took  the  children  up  in  his  arms, 
put  his  hands  on  them,  ::nd  blclTed  them,  have  pity  on 
your  woes  on  ihoie  injuries  which  ye  forely  fufter,  but 
cannot  have  deferved  ! 

Life,  however,  is  not  eafily  extinguished  ;  and  not- 
withftanding  all  the  pains  and  inconvenience^  which  the 
child  undergoes  from  want  of  food,  from  wantofclean- 
liiif'fs,  from  want  of  thole  tender  attentions  which  a 
mother  only  can  pay,  it  does  indeed  furvive  ;  but  what 
remains  of  its  lot  is  even  more  miferable  than  that  which 
has  already  pafled.  As  it  has  always  been  abfent  from 
home,  it  is  a  ftr^nger  there.  Its  paients  feel  but  little 
natural  afftdlion  for  it ;  tor  natural  affection  fixes  itfelf 
in  the  heart  moil  deeply  ac  r\v  period  when  the  infant 
is  hanging  at  the  breaft,  and  fmiling,  as  it  were,,  with 
gratitude,  in  the  face  of  IT  r  who  iupplies  it  with  de- 
licious nourifhment  from  her  own  vital  current.  It 
2  takes 


Ho.  87.  MORAL,     &c.  25 

takes  dill  firmer  pofleffion  of  the  heart  when  the  child 
begins  to  prattle,  and  to  play  thofe  little  tricks,  which 
none  but  a  callous  mind  can  behold  without  delight. 
But,  alas !  the  little  boy  or  girl  are  ftiil  confidered  as 
obftacles  to  pleafure  at  home.  They  pay  a  fhort  and 
formal  vifit  there,  and  are  again  difmifled  to  a  nurfe, 
locked  up  with  fervants  in  the  garret,  or  transferred  to 
their  grandmother.  The  laft  is  a  mod  enviable  lot,  in 
comparifon  with  the  former;  in  which  they  not  only 
experience  harfti  words  and  hard  blows,  but  learn  vulgar 
ideas,  vulgar  language  and  habits  of  every  kind,  which 
muft  one  day  be  unlearned. 

As  foon  as  they  can  walk  firmly,  and  talk  plainly, 
they  are  removed  to  one  of  thofe  convenient  fchools  or 
academies,  as  they  are  called,  where  children,  at  a  very 
early  age,  are  received  as  into  nurferies.  In  the  fubfequent 
courfe  of  their  education  they  are  conflantly  kept  from 
home;  or  if  they  are  indulged  in  a  vifitof  a  few  days, 
they  fee  little  but  what  tends  to  miilead  them.  They 
receive  no  fatherly  advice,  and  whatever  learning  they 
may  acquire  at  their  fchool?,  they  ufaally  enter  on  the 
ftage  to  aft  their  part  in  the  drama  of  life,  without 
judgment,  and  without  principles  to  regulate  their  con- 
duct. There  is  ufually  added  to  their  misfortune  of  be- 
ing neglefted  and  mifled,  that  of  being  deprived  of  all 
fhare  of  th?ir  parents  poffeffions  ;  who,  in  the  gay  cir- 
cles of  pleafure,  net  only  fpend  their  own  property,  but 
involve  themfelves  and  their  paternal  eftates  in  debt,  and 
in  every  fpecies  of  diftrefling  and  difgraceful  embarrafl- 
ment.  There  is  no  part  of  the  family  and  afFairi  of  the 
diflipated  which  has  not  a  tendency  to  ruin.  They  are 
themfelves  in  a  conftant  Mate  of  mortification  and  dif- 
appoiniment.  Their  objeft  in  purfuing  a  perpetual 
round  of  amufements,  is  to  obtain  perpetual  pleafure; 
an  objed  which  human  nature  could  never  yet  accom- 
pli Ih.  They,  of  all  others,  are  leall  likely  to  obtain  it, 
who  make  pleafure  a  bufinefs,  and,  in  profecution  of 
it,  negleft  their  moft  important  and  their  dnily  duties. 
Indeed,  there  is  nothing  more  rnifapprehended  than  the 
nature  of  pleafure.  Men  are  deluded  by  a  name,  ari"d, 
catching  at  a  phantom,  lofe  reality.  The  trueit  plea- 

VOL.II,       '  C 


26  E     S     vS     A     Y    S,  No.  87. 

fure  refults  from  calm  and  moderate  emotions.  Noife, 
tumult,  violence,  diforder,  take  off  the  fine  fpirit  from 
that  which  is  otherwife  formed  to  pleafe,  and  leave 
little  behind  but  dregs  or  difagreeabie  ingredients. 
Balls,  ademblies,  feafts,  public  diverfions,  cards,  drefs, 
various  company,  fhould  be  purfued  only  as,  what  they 
are,  temporary  an  ufements.  Afk  t'lofe  who  are  whirled 
in  the  vortex  of  fafhion  whether  they  are  happy  ?  Not- 
withilanding  they  are  engaged,  without  ceafing,  in  what 
the  world  calls  pleafure,  they  are  as  ready  to  complain 
of  languor  and  of  mifery  as  any  other  part  of  mankind. 
Pride  and  vanity  compel  them  to  move  with  others  of 
their  rank  or  fortune  ;  but  their  countenances  and  words 
abundantly  teftify  that  they  have,  at  leaft,  their  mare 
of  human  uneafinefs.  They  feel,  indeed,  the  fatif- 
faftion  of  being  diftinguifhed  from  the  poor,  becaufe 
their  fortunes  enable  them  to  pay  for  the  diitinclion  ; 
but  that  happinefs  is  but  flenderly  fupported,  which  is 
founded  only  on  the  gratification  of  a  weak  and  wo- 
manifh  vanity. 

With  refpefl  to  that  particular  part  of  the  evil  re- 
fulting  frorri  cftflipation,  the  negleft  and  confequent 
mifery  of  families,  it  is  certainly  very  extenfive  and 
important.  Single  nien,  and  fingle  women,  however 
led  aftray  by  the  falfe  lights  of  their  own  vain  imagina- 
tion, fufter  by  themfelves,  or  at  leait  draw  but  a  few 
in  their  train.  But  the  whole  rifing  generation  muft  be 
endangered,  when  diffipation  is  become  univerfal  among- 
parents  and  the  heads  of  families. 

Selfifli  arguments  may  fucceed  when  others  fail ;  and 
I  therefore  wifh  I  could  convince  the  generality  of  a 
certain  truth  ;  that  there  is  really  more  pleafure  to  bs 
found  at  the  family  fire-fide,  and  in  the  regular  per- 
formance of  domeiHc  duties,  than  in  the  never-ceafing 
purfuit  aftep  falhionable  am  ufements.  What  is  the  de- 
light of  feeing  an  Italian  or  French  dancer  Hand  upon 
one  leg,  compared  to  that  of  beholding  one's  own  fmil- 
ing  babes  in  the  raptures  of  a  game  at  play  ?  What  is 
the  delight  of  glittering  at  a  ball,  a  play,  a  mafque- 
rade,  compared  to  that  of  a  home,  in  which  are  found 
plenty,  tranquillity,  and  love,  uninterrupted  by  the 

extra- 


No.  88.  MORAL,    &c.  27 

extravagance,  the  folly,  the  pride,  and  the  reflleflhefs 
of  that  ignorant,  empty,  weak,  and  fickle,  yet  arbitrary 
tyrant,  Famion  ? 

Not  that  the  moralift  is  fevere.  He  prohibits  no 
moderate  and  reafonable  enjoyments.  He  is  too  well 
acquainted  with  human  nature,  and  with  life,  fo  to 
moralize.  He  maintains  only,  that  though  diffipating 
pleafures  may  be  allowed  as  a  temporary  relief,  they  are 
fatal  to  happinefs  and  virtue,  when  they  are  fuffered  to 
engage  the  whole  attention,  or  to  become  the  chief  em- 
ployment. 


NO.  LXXXVIII.       ON    FORMING    CON- 
NECTIONS. 


ONE  can  never  fufficiently  admire  the  liberal  fpirit 
of  the  great  philofopher  and  orator  of  Rome, 
v\ho,  in  his  fine  treatife  on  friendship,  has  exploded  the 


idea,  that  the  profpect  of  advantage  is  the  foundation  of 
this  virtuous  union,  and  afierted,  that  it  owes  its  origin 
to  a  conviction  of  mutual  excellence  in  morals  and  dif- 
pontion. 

This  generous  Opinion  appears  {till  greater  and  more 
amiable  when  it  is  contrafted  with  the  precepts  and  the 
practices  of  later  ages,  and  particularly  of  the  prefent. 
It  is  now  one  of  the  firft  admonitions  given  to  a  young 
man,  who  is  entering  on  the  career  of  life,  that  he  mult, 
at  all  events,  make  connections.  And  inftead  of  in  form- 
ing him,  that  he  is  to  be  directed  in  his  choice  of  them 
by  the  appearance  of  moral  and  mental  excellence,  ac- 
cording to  the^  fublime  ideas  of  the  noble  Roman,  his 
fagacious  monitors  fugged  to  him,  that  he  is  to  be 
folely  guided  by  the  proipect  of  his  intereft  and  advapce- 
ment  in  the  road  of  ambition.  Let  a  poor  man  of  ap- 
proved character,  learning  and  genius,  and  a  rich  man 
of  failiion,  with  no  preteniions  to  either,  be  introduced 
to  a  fenfible  and  prudent  young  man  of  the  world  who 
has  been  thus  inilrucled  ;  and,  while  the  rich  man  is 
viewed  with  fubmiffion,  complacence,  and  treated  with 
C  2  a  melt 


*8  ESSAYS,  No.  88. 

almoft  idolatrous  attention,  the  poor  man  ftands  by  un- 
noticed, and  probably  defpifed.  On  the  fl  ght  acquaint- 
ance of  a  firft  introduction,  the  youth  who  is  deeply 
verfed  in  worldly  wifdom,  will  not  fail  to  call  at  the 
rich  man's  houfe,  and  leave  a  card  with  mofl  refpeclful 
compliments;  he  would  not  come  into  the  neighbour- 
hood without  paying  that  refpeS,  on  any  account  what- 
ever ;  he  is  not  half  fo  fcrupulous  about  going  to  church 
and  paying  his  court  to  his  Maker  ;  but  at  the  very  time 
while  he  is  bowing  at  the  threfhold  of  the  rich  man,  the 
philofopher  (hall  pafs  by,  and,  becaufe  he  pofTefTes  only 
a  competency  without  fupcrfluity,  and  without  influence, 
he  ftiall  not  be  honoured  with  the  common  civility  of  a 
falutation.  For  it  is  a  maxim  with  thefe  men,  that  as  it 
is  an  honour  to  know  and  be  knwon  to  perfons  of  for- 
tune and  title,  fo  it  is  a  difgrace  to  acknowledge  an  ac- 
Suaintance  with  thofe  who  have  nothing  to  recommend 
lem  but  honour,  fpirit,  learning,  and  virtue. 
The  formation  of  connections  is  confidered  as  fo  im- 
portant, that  it  becomes,  in  effedt,  the  principal  object 
in  education.  The  boy,  whofe  parents  are  profefTed 
people  of  the  world,  would  not,  on  any  account,  fail 
to  place  him  at  a  fchool  to  which  the  fons  of  the  no- 
bility are  often  fent,  though  they  are  ready  to  confefs, 
that  little  learning  and  great  profligacy  are  the  ufual 
acquifitions  in  it.  If  the  boy  has  grown  intimate  with 
the  fon  of  a  Duke,  a  Lord,  or  a  Baronet,  his  parents 
are  better  pleafed  with  him,  than  if  he  had  learned  by 
heart  all  Horace,  Virgil,  and  Homer.  There  is  no 
fubmiflion  fo  mean,  and  no  attentions  fo  fervile,  but  he 
is  ready  to  pay  them  with  alacrity,  in  accomplishing  the 
important  objec"l  of  forming  connections.  The  mind  i> 
rendered,  by  thefe  means,  low  and  abjeft  ;  and  though 
the  boy  may  afterwards  rife  to  the  honour  of  being  a  no- 
bleman's chaplain,  or  his  travelling  companion,  yet  he 
will  retain,  through  life,  the  fentiments  and  fpirit  of 
his  Lordfliip?s  footman  or  valet-de-chambre. 

A  man,  unacquainted  xvlth  the  world,  might  fuppofe, 
that  the  readielt  road  to  preferment  in  feveral  of  the 
profeflions,  is  to  acquire  the  knowledge  and  accompjiifli- 
ments  which  are  neceflary  to  a  fkilful  practice  of  them. 
Buc  this  is  really  not  the  cafe.  The  fureft'and  moft 

compendious 


No.  88.  MORAL,     &c.  29 

compendious  method  pointed  out  by  the  wife  men  of 
this  world,  is  to  form  connexions.  Accordingly  we  ob- 
fcrve  many  perfons  in  the  profeffions,  who  aim  at  diiHnc- 
tion  and  advancement,  by  no  means  confining  themfelves 
to  their  libraries  ;  but  ftudying  the  graces  of  drefs  and 
addrefs,  and  the  arts  of  fnnulat'on  and  difiimulation.  We 
fee  them  frequenting  all  public  places,  giving  and  re- 
ceiving invitations  to  dinners  and  fuppers,  and  evidently 
fpending  fo  much  time  in  dillipation,  as  to  leave 
fcarcely  an  hour  in  a  day  for  reading  and  ftudy. 

We  will  fuppofe  a  young  man  entering  on  the  prc- 
feflion  of  a  phyfician.  The  time  before  he  is  of  age 
is,  perhaps,  devoted  to  hearing  faihionable  lectures, 
and  to  reading  a  few  faperficial  books  ;  fuch  as  tend  to 
acquaint  him  with  the  common  and  obvious  modes  of 
practice.  But  he  no  fooner  Iteps  in^o  the  world  than 
both  books  and  lectures  are  laid  aiidf.  Several  years, 
indeed,  mult  elapfe  before  he  takes  his  doctor's  degree. 
But  this  time  is  not  fpent  in  icudy  only,  by  him  who 
knows  how  to  play  his  cards,  as  it  is  called,  and  to 
fecure  fuccefs  in  life.  No;  he  has  learned  a  wifVr 
leflbn,  and  is  well  allured,  that  the  moil  famiiiar  ac- 
quaintance with  Galen  and  Hippocrates,  will  not  ad- 
vance him  half  fo  \\ell  HF  connexions.  Connexions  are, 
therefore,  the  fir  ft  and  the  laft  Irudy  of  the  day.  !f  }-,e 
has  been  fortunate  enough  co  procure  an  introduction  •--> 
a  few  titled  perfons,  and  to  prefcrtbe,  with  fucceis,  ia 
the  cafe  of  feme  Duchefs  Dowager's  pricked  finger,  his 
fortune  is  made  ;  he  cannot  fall  of  being  recommended 
to  mere  connections  in  the  fame  fafhionable  line.  He 
himfeif  will  become  the  fafhion,  and  people  of  famicn. 
will  vvifh  to  be  ill,  or  pretend  to  be-ill,  that  they  may 
have  the  credit  of  calling  Doctor  fuch  an  one  "  our 
*'  phyfuian."  Connections  will  now  be  made,  and 
money  accumulated  with  fuch  rapidity,  that  the  doctor 
will  become  a  greater  man  than  his  •employers,  and 
venture  to  dictate  to  Lcrds  and  Dukes  in  politics,  as 
well  as  in  a  purge. 

In  the  fubordinate  V ranches  alfo  of  the  healing  art, 
and  indeed  in  moft  of  the  walks  c-f  life>  iruch  more  de- 
pendence is  placed  on  connections  than  on  merit ;  much. 
C  3  more 


30  ESSAYS,  No.  88. 

more  attention  paid  to  acquiring  connexions  than  in 
acquiring  merit;  and  to  deferve  connections  is  by  no 
means  thought  the  fecureft  method  of  obtaining  them. 
Deceit,  external  fhow,  and  pompous  pretences,  are 
deemed  infallible  noftrums  for  making  connections ;  bur, 
alas!  can  any  lucrative  advantage,  refuhing  from  con- 
nections, repay  a  rational  creature  for  facrificing  truth 
and  liberty  ?  Thefe  connections  are  dignified  by  the 
name  of  friendlhips.  Shade  of  Cicero,  what  indigna- 
tion muft  thou  feel  at  fuch  prefumption  ! 

In  divinity  too,  I  am  forry  to  obferve,  that  many  more 
have  rifen  to  ecclefiaftical  emolument  and  dignity  by 
itudying,  throughout  their  lives,  to  make  connexions, 
than  by  fuperior  piety  or  by  theological  attainments. 
It  is  lamentable  to  behold  thofe  vvhofe  minds  ought  to 
poflefs  peculiar  elevation,  bowing  and  cringing,  with 
abjeft  fervility,  to  the  vileft  peer  of  the  realm,  who 
happens  to  have  influence  at  court,  or  to  be  the  patron 
of  a  living.  The  lord  fhall  be  a  profeffed  fcoffer  at 
all  religion,  and  an  avowed  enemy  to  chriftianity  in 
parti  ular,  and  yet  {hall  have  a  tribe  of  clergymen  at 
his  levee,  who  rsnnot  help  admiring  his  wit  and  un- 
derftanding.  .Preferment,  indeed,  feems  to  be  the  only 
objedl  among  many  of  thofe,  who  are  fet  apart  to  teach 
the  w°J'Jd  that  the  riches  of  divine  grace  are  the  trueft 
fifties,  and  the  diftinclion  of  fuperior  virtue  the  moft 
enviable  dignity.  Horace  has  faid,  that  to  have  pleafed 
the  great  is  not  the  loweft  praife  ;  many  of  the  modern 
inftruclors  of  mankind  feem  to  confider  it  as  the  higbeft ; 
and,  in  proportion  as  they  are  fervile  to  their  patron, 
they  are  infolent  to  their  curate. 

It  is  a  maxim  with  many,  founded,  as  they  pretend, 
on  real  obfervation,  that  mitres,  flails,  and  pluralities, 
are  not  attainable  by  any  fuch  qualities  as  are  acquired 
in  the  ftudy.  You  muft  form  connections.  In  order  to 
form  connections,  you  muft  recommend  yourlelf  to  va- 
rious company  by  the  graces;  you  muft  po/Tefs  verfa- 
tility  of  mind  ;  you  muft  frequent  afiemblies,  gaming- 
tables, watering  places  :  your  confcience  muft  be  as 
eafy  as  your  manners;  you  muft  take  care  not  to  fpend 
too  much  time  in  reading  Greek,  or  any  thing  elfe  but 

the 


No.  88.  MORAL,     &c.  31 

the  Court  Calendar;  and  you  can  hardly  fail  of  valu- 
able connexions  and  valuable  preferment,  as  thoufands 
can  teftify  by  aftual  experience. 

But  though  numbers  may  give  confidence,  furely  thofe 
whofe  whole  employment  confifts  in  meanly  hunting  for 
preferment  under  the  garb  of  fan&ity  and  religion,  are 
moft  contemptible  characters.  Indeed,  their  difpofi- 
tions  are  ufually  as  narrow,  felfifh,  and  flavilh,  as  their 
purfuits  are  fordid,  and  unbecoming  the  dignity  of  a 
facred  profeflion.  Arife,  Cicero,  for  my  ideas  return 
with  pleafure  to  thee  ;  arife,  behold  a  pompous  preacher, 
in  a  large  peruke  and  folemn  canonicals,  cringing  to 
a  debauched,  unbelieving,  and  biiliop- making  Lord, 
and  pretending  all  the  while  that  he  is  cultivating  friend- 
fhip  in  all  its  purity  ! 

But  would  you  forbid  a  young  man  the  formation  of 
connections,  by  which  fo  many  have  availed  themfelves, 
and  rifen  to  real  and  deferved  grandeur  ?  By  no  means  ; 
I  would  only  teach  him  to  prelerve  a  juit  reverence  for 
himfelf,  and  to  defpife  all  riches  and  all  honours  which 
muft  be  purchafed  at  the  expence  of  truth,  virtue,  and 
a  manly  fpirit.  I  would,  like  others,  advife  every 
young  man  (and  it  is  chiefly  to  the  young  that  I  pre- 
fume  to  fuggeft  admonitions),  to  form  conne&ions,  or 
rather  friendships ;  but  to  be  guided  in  his  choice  of 
them  by  perfonal  merit  and  approved  character.  I  do 
not  fay,  for  it  would  be  unnatural  and  unwife,  that  he 
fhould  negledl  intereft,  or  defpife  advancement,  when  it 
can  be  procured  confidently  with  the  fpirit  and  integrity 
of  an  honeft  and  delicate  mind.  If  preferment  comes 
unlocked  for,  and  unfought  by  fervile  compliance,  it  is 
an  honour  as  well  as  an  advantage,  and  is  doubly  wel- 
come. But  if  I  muft  facrifice  my  reafon  and  my  con- 
fcience,  my  honour  and  my  freedom,  in  forming  con- 
nections and  purfuing  preferment,  I  relinquifh  the 
chace,  and  eagerly  retire  ta  competency,  contentment, 
and  liberty. 


C  4  No.  LXXXIX, 


32  s   s   A   y   s, 


No.  LXXXIX.  AN  ADDJIBS5.  TO.A  VO,UN9 
SCHOLAR,  SUPPOSED  TO  BE  IN  'THE'  COURS£ 
OF  A  LIBERAL 'EDUCATION*  AT 


YOUR  parents  have  watched  over  your  helplefs 
infancy,  and  conducted  you,  with  many  a  pang1, 
to  an  age  at  which  your  mind  is  capable  of  manly  irn- 
P'ovcmcnt.  Their  folicitude  ftill  continues,  and  no 
trouble  nor  expence  is  fpared  in  giving  you  all  the  in- 
ftruftjons  and  accomplimments  which  may  enable  yo_a 
to  acl  your  pare  in  life,  as  a  man  of  poliihed  fenfe  and 
confirmed  virtue.  You  have,  then,  already  contracted 
a  great  debt  of  gratitude  to  them.  You  can  pay  it  by 
no  other  method  bnt  by  uiing  the  advantages  which, 
thrir  goodnefs  has  afforded  you. 

If  \our  own  endeavours  are  deficient,  it  is  in  vain  thst 
you  have  tutors,  book?,  and  all  the  external  appanru-  cf 
literary  purfims.  Yru  muft  love  learning,  if  }cu  in- 
tend to  poiTefs  it.  Jn  order  to  love  it,  you  muft  feel  its 
delights  ;  in  order  to  feel  its  delights,  you  muft  apply  to 
it,  however  irkfome  at  fir  ft,  cloieJy,  conftantly,  a^d  for 
a  confiderable  time.  If  you  have  refolution, encash 
to  do  this,  you  cannot  but  love  learning  ;  for  the  mind 
always  loves  that  to  which  it  has  been  long,  fteaclily, 
and  voluntarily  attached.  Habits  are  formed,  which 
render  what  was  at  firft  difagreeable,  not  only  pleafant, 
but  neceffary. 

Pleafant,  indeed,  are  all  the  paths  w"hich  lead  to 
polite  and  elegant  literature.  Yours, 'then,  is  furely  a 
lot. particular}'  happy.  Your  education  is  of  fuch  a  fort, 
that  its  principal  fcope  is  to  prepare  you  to  receive  a 
refined  pleafure  during  your  life.  Elegance,  or  delicacy 
of  tafie,  is  one  of  the  firft  objects  of  a  claflical  difcipline  ; 
and  it  is  this  fine  quality  which  opens  a  new  world  to 
the  fcholar's  view.  Elegance  of  tafle  has  a  connection 
with  many  virtues,  and  all  of  them  virtues  of  the  moft 
amiable  kiad.  It  tends  to  render  you,  at  once,  good 

and 


No.  £9.  M    O   R   A   L,     Sec.  33 

and  agreeable.  You  muft  therefore  be  an  enemy  to 
your  own  enjoyments,  if  you  enter  on  the  difcipline 
which  leads  to  the  attainment  of  a  claflical  and  liberal 
education  with  reluftance.  Value  duly  the  opportuni- 
ties you  enjoy,  and  which  a*c  denied  to  tboufands  of 
your  fellow-creatures. 

Without  exemplary  diligence  jou  will  make  but  a 
contemptible  proficiency.  You  may,  indeed, pafs  through* 
the  forms  of  fchools  and  univerfities,  but  you  will  bring 
nothing  away  from  them  of  real  value.  The  proper  fort 
and  degree  of  diligence  you  cannot  poffefs,  but  by  the 
efforts  of  your  own  refolution.  Your  inftruftor  may, 
indeed,  confine  you  within  the  walls  of  a  fchool  a  cer- 
tain number  of  hours.  He  may  place  books  before  you, 
and  compel  you  to  fix  your  eyes  upon  them  ;  but  no 
authority  can  chain  down  your  mind.  Your  thoughts 
will  efcape  from  every  external  reftraint,  and,  amidft  the 
moil  ferious  leclures,  may  be  ranging  in  the  wild  pur- 
fuit  of  trifles  or  vice.  Rules,  reftraints,  commands,  and 
punilhments,  may,  indeed,  affift  in  ftrengthening  your 
refolution  ;  but,  without  your  own  voluntary  choice, 
your  diligence  will  not  often  conduce  to  your  pleafure 
or  advantage.  Though  this  truth  is  obvious,  yet  it  feems 
to  be  a  fccret  to  thofe  parents  who  expecl  to  find  their 
fon's  improvement  encreafe  in  proportion  to  the  number 
of  tutors  and  external  afnftances,  which  their  opulence 
has  enabled  them  to  provide.  Thefe  afliftances,  indeed, 
are  fometirnes  afforded,  chiefly  that  the  young  heir  to  a 
title  or  eflate  may  indulge  himfelf  in  idlenefs  and  no- 
minal pleafures.  The  lefTon  is  conltrued  to  him,  and 
the  exercife  written  for  him  by  the  private  tutor,  while 
the  haplefs  youth  is  engaged  in  fome  ruinous  pleafure, 
which,  at  the  fame  time,  prevents  him  from  learning- 
any  thing  deiirable,  and  lea-ds  to  the  formation  of  de- 
flrudive  habits,  which  can  feldom  be  removed. 

But  the  principal  obftacle  to  improvement  at  your 
fchoo!,  efpecially  if  you  are  too  plentifully  fupplied 
with  money,  is  a  perverfe  ambition  of  being  diftinguifh- 
ed  as  a  boy  ot  fpirit  in  mifchievous  pranks,  in  r.t-g!ec~l- 
ing  the  tafks  and  leiTons,  and  for  every  vice  and  irregu- 
larity which  the  puerile  age  can  admit.  You  will  have 
fenfe  enough,  I  hope,  to  diicovsr,  beneath  the  roaik  of 
C  5  gaiety 


34-  ESSAYS,  No.  89. 

gaiety  and  good-nature,  that  malignant  fpirit  of  de- 
traction, which  endeavours  to  render  the  boy  who  ap- 
plies to  books,  and  to  all  the  duties  and  proper  bufinefs 
of  the  fchool,  ridiculous.  You  will  fee,  by  the  light  of 
your  reafonr  that  the  ridicule  is  mifapplied.  You  will 
difcover,  that  the  boys  who  have  recourfe  to  ridicule, 
are,  for  the  moft  part,  ftupid,  unfeeling,  ignorant,  and 
vicious.  Their  noify  folly,  their  bold  confidence,  their 
contempt  of  learning,  and  their  defiance  of  authority 
are,  for  the  mofi  part,  the  genuine  effects  of  hardened 
infenfibility.  Let  not  their  infults  and  ill-treatment 
difpirit  you.  If  you  yield  to  them  with  a  tame  and  ab- 
ject fubmiffion,  they  will  not  fail  to  triumph  over  you 
with  additional  infolence.  Difplay  a  fortitude  in  your 
purfuits,  equal  in  degree  to  the  obftinacy  in  which  they 
perfift  in  theirs.  Your  fortitude  will  foon  overcome 
theirs ;  which  is,  indeed,  feldom  any  thing  more  than 
the  audacity  of  a  bully.  Indeed,  you  cannot  go  through 
a  fchool  with  eafe  to  yourfelf,  and  with  fuccefs,  without 
a  confiderable  fhare  of  courage.  I  do  not  mean  that 
ibrt  of  courage  which  leads  to  battles  and  contentions, 
but  which  enables  you  to  have  a  will  of  your  own,  and 
to  purfue  what  is  right,  amidft  all  the  perfecutions  of 
furrounding  enviers,  dunces,  and  detractors.  Ridicule 
is  the  weapon  made  ufe  of  at  fchool,  as  well  as  in  the 
world,  when  the  fortreffes  of  virtue  are  to  be  afTailed. 
You  will  effectually  repel  the  attack  by  a  dauntlefs  fpirit 
and  unyielding  perfeverance.  Though  numbers  are 
againft  you,  yet,  with  truth  and  rectitude  on  your  fide,, 
you  may  be  if/e  agmen,  though  alone,  yet  equal  to  an, 
army. 

By  laying  in  a  ftore  of  ufefuf  knowledge,  adorning 
your  mind  with  elegant  literature,  improving  and  efta- 
blifliing  your  conduct  by  virtuous  principles,  you  cannot 
fail  of  being  a  comfort  to  thofe  friends  who  have  fup- 
ported  you,  of  being  happy  within  yourfelf,  and  of 
being  well  received  by  mankind.  Honour  and  fuccefs 
in  life  will  probably  attend  you.  Under  all  circum- 
ftances  you  will  have  an  internal  fource  of  confolation 
and  entertainment,  of  which  no  fublunary  viciffitude- 
can  deprive  you.  Time  mews  how  much  wifer  is  your 
choice  than  thai  of  your  idle  companions,  who  would 

gladly 


No.  90.  MORAL,    Sic.  35 

gladly  have  drawn  you  into  their  aflbciation,  or  rather 
into  their  confpiracy,  as  it  has  been  called,  againft:  good 
manners,  and  againft  all  that  is  honourable  and  ufeful. 
While  you  appear  in  fociety  as  a  refpe&able  and  va- 
luable member  of  it,  they  have  facritked,  at  the  ftmne 
of  vanity,  pride,  extravagance,  and  falfe  pleafure,  their 
health  and  their  fenfe,  their  fortunes  and  their  cha- 
rafters. 


No.  XC.    THE    WANT  OF  PIETY  ARISES  FROM: 
THE    WANT    OF    SENSIBILITY. 


IT  appears  to  me,  that  the  mind  of  man,  when  it  is 
free  from  natural  defeds  and  acquired  corruption, 
feels  no  lefs  a  tendency  to  the  indulgence  of  devotion, 
than  to  virtuous  love,  or  to  any  other  of  the  more  refin- 
ed and  elevated  afte&ions.  But  debauchery  and  excefs 
contribute  greatly  to  deftroy  all  the  fufceptible  delicacy 
with  which  nature  ufually  furnimes  the  heart;  and,  in 
the  general  extinction  of  our  better  qualities,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  fo  pure  a  fentiment  as  that  of  piety,  mould 
be  one  of  the  firfl  to  expire. 

It  is  certain  that  the  underflanding  may  be  improved 
in  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  in  the  arts  of  fucceed- 
ing  in  it,  while  the  heart,  or  whatever  conititutes  the 
feat  of  the  moral  and  fentimental  feelings,  is  gradually 
receding  from  its  proper  and  original  perfection.  Indeed,  . 
experience  feems  to  evince,  that  it  is  hardly  poffible  to 
arrive  at  the  character  of  a  complete  man  of  the  world, 
without  lofing  many  of  the  moft  valuable  fentiments  of 
uncorrupted  nature.  A  complete  man  of  the  world  is 
an  artificial  being  ;  he  has  discarded  many  of  the  native- 
and  laudable  tendencies  of  his  mind,  and  adopted  a 
new  fyltem  of  objefts  and  propenfities  of  his  own  crea- 
tion. Thefe  are  commonly  grofs,  coarfe,  fordid, 
felfifh,  and  fenfual.  All,  or  either  of  thefe  attributes, 
tend  dircclly  to  blunt  the  fenfe  of  every  thing  liberal, 
eodarged,  diiinteretted ;  of  every  thing  which  partici- 
C.  6  pates 


36  E   :S    S     A     Y     S,  No.  93. 

pates  more  of  an  intellectual  than  of  a  fenfual  nature. 
When  the  heart  is  tied  down  to  the  earth  by  luft  and 
avarice,  it  is  not  extraordinary  that  the  eye  fhould  be 
feldorn  lifted  up  to  heaven.  To  the  man  who  fpends 
his  Sunday  (becaufe  he  thinks  the  day  fit  for  little 
elfe'  in  the  counting-houfe,  in  travelling,  in  the  ta- 
vern or  in  the  brothel,  thofe  who  go  to  church  appear 
as  fools,  and  the  bufinefs  they  go  upon  as  nonfenfe. 
He  is  callous  to  the  feelings  of  devotion  ;  bat  he  is 
tremblingly  alive  to  all  that  gratifies  his  fenfes  or  pro- 
motes his  intereft. 

Jt  has  been  remarked  of  thofe  writers  who  have  at- 
tacked chriilianity,  and  reprefented  all  religions  merely 
as  diverfifred  modes  of  fuperftition,  that  they  were  in- 
deed, for  the  rooft  part,  men  of  a  metaphysical  and  a 
elifputatious  turn  of  mind,  but  ufually  little  diflinguilh- 
cd  for  benignity  and  generofity.  There  was,  amidft 
all  the  preteniions  to  logical  fagacitv,  a  cloudinefs  of 
ideas,  and  a  coldnefs  of  heart,  which  rendered  thera 
very  unfit  judges  on  a  qufiHon  in  which  the  heart  is 
chiefly  intereited  ;  in  which  the  language  of  nature  is 
more  expreflive  and  convincing,  than  all  the  dreary  fub- 
tleties  of  the  difmal  metaphy^cians.  Even  the  reafon- 
jng  faculty,  on  which  we  fo  greatly  value  ourfelves,  may 
be  perverted  by  excefTive  refinement  ;  and  there  is  an  ab- 
llrule,  but  vain  and  foolsfti  philofoj-hy,  which  philofo- 
phizes  us  out  of  the  nobleft  parts  of  our  noble  nature. 
One  of  thofe  parts  of  us  is  our  iiyftirjftive  fenfe  of  reli- 
gion, of  which  not  one  of  ihofe  brutes  which  the  philofo- 
phers  mod  admire,  and  to  whofe  rank  they  wi/h  to  re- 
duce us,  is  found,  in  the  flighted  degree  to  participate. 

Such  phiiofophers  may  be  called,  in  a  double  fenfe, 
the  enemies  of  mankind.  '1  hsy  not  only  endeavour  to 
entice  man  from  his  duty,  but  to  rob  him  of  a  moft 
exalted  and  natural  pleafure.  Such,  furely,  is  the 
plecfuie  of  devotion.  For  when  the  foul  rifes  above 
this  iiule  crb,  and  pours  its  adoraticn  at  the  throne  of 
celeflia!  Majffty,  the  hcly  fervour  which  it  feels  is  itfelf 
a  rapturous  delight.  Neither  is  this  a  declamatory  re- 
prcfentation,  but  a  truth  felt  asd  acknowledged  by  all 
th«  fons  of  iren  ;  except  tlvofe  who  have  been  defective 
in,  ienfibiiiiy,  or  who  hoped  to  gratify  the  pride  or  the 

malignity 


No.  90.  MORAL,    &c.  37 

malignity  of  their  hearts,  by  fingular   and  pernicious 
fpeculatkm. 

Indeed,  all  difputations,  controverfial  and  meta- 
phyfical  writings,  on  the  fubjecl  of  religion,  are  un- 
favourable to  genuine  piety.  We  do  not  find,  that  the 
moft  renowned  polemics  in  the  church  militant,  were  at 
all  more  attentive  than  others  to  the  common  offices  of 
religion,  or  that  they  wer-.-  actuated  by  any  peculiar 
degree  of  devotion.  The  truth  is,  their  religion  cen- 
tred in  their  heads ;  whereas  its  natural  region  is  the^ 
heart.  The  heart  !  confined,  alas !  in  colleges  or  libra- 
ries, unacquainted  with  all  the  tender  charities  of  hu£- 
band,  father,  brother,  friend  ;  feme  of  them  have  almoll 
forgotten  that  they  poflefs  a  heart.  It  has  long  ceafed 
to  beat  with  the  pulfations  of  love  and  fympathy,  and 
has  been  engjrofled  by  pride  on  conquering  an  adverfary 
in  the  fyllogiftic  combat,  or  by  impotent  anger  on  a 
defeat.  With  fuch  habits,  and  fo  defective  a  fyftem  of 
feelings,  can  we  expeft  that  a  Doctor  of  the  Sorbonne,  or 
the  difputing  profeflbr  of  divinity,  mould  ever  feei  the 

Sure  flame  of  piety  that  glowed  in  the  bofoms  of  Mrs. 
owe,  Mrs.  Talbot,  or  Mr.  Nelfon  ? 
An  inexperienced  and  unobfervant  man  might  ex- 
pect to  find  extraordinary  devotion  and  piety  in  the- 
chapcls  and  colleges  of  our  Englifh  univerfities.  Many 
of  our  academics  are  fummoned  to  prayers,  not  left 
often  than  four  times  every  day  throughout  the  year. 
But  do  they  jattend  .voluntarily,  or  in  obedience  to  a 
ilatute  ?  Js.'there  any  particular  piety  or  decency  in  the 
performance  of  public  worship  ?  Quite  the  reverfe  ;  for 
in  no  place  of  worfhip  are  the  prayers  read  in  a  more 
careleis  or  perfunctory  manaer ;  in  none  are  more  in<- 
decencies  praftifed'  and  connived  at,,  than'in  the  chapels 
of  oar  Englifh  universities-.  The  reaion  is,  that  thofe 
who  attend  in  them  Confilt,  for  the  molt  part,  either  of 
jolly  fellousj  wha:  drown  all  thoughts  in  wine  and  its 
concomitants;  or  -of  dry  logicians  -<nd  metaphysicians 
who,  in  the  towering  heights  of  their  wifciom,  are 
fuperior  to  the  weaknefles  of  a  idevotee.  I  have  feen 
in  many  a  country  church,  where  the  congregation  con- 
fifted  only  of  honeil  huibandmen  and  their  families, 
more  decency  and  more  devotion,  than  in  any  chapel  in 
J  the 


J0  E    S-  S    A    Y    S,  No.  9*; 

the  venerable  feats  of  learning  and  of  religion.  A  very 
amiable  and  ingenuous  writer  has  ventured  to  fuggeft, , 
that  even  the  clergy  at  large,  from  the  habit  of  talking 
and  difputing  with  familiarity  on  fubjefts  of  religion, 
are  lefs  apt  to  indulge  the  ardour  of  devotion,  than  the 
common  tribe  of  mankind,  engaged  in  the  varied  and. 
bufy  fcene  of  many-coloured  life. 

It  is  however  certain,  that  a  devotional  tafte  and  ha- 
bit are  very  defirable  in  themfelves,  exclufive  of  their 
effecls  in  meliorating  the  morals  and  difpofition,  and 
promoting  prefent  and  future  felicity.  They  add  dig- 
nity, pleafure,  and  fecurity,  to  any  age  :  but  to  old  age 
they  are  the  mod  becoming  grace,  the  moft  fubftantial 
fupport,  and  the  fweeteft  comfort.  In  order  to  preferve 
them,  it  will  be  neceffary  to  preferve  our  fenfibility ; . 
and  nothing  will  contribute  fo  much  to  this  purpofe  as 
a  life  of  temperance,  innocence,  and  fimplicity. 


No.  XCI.    ON  THE  PLEASURES  OF  A  GARDENS 


NO  T  he  alone  is  to  be  efteemed  a  benefadlor  to 
mankind  who  makes  an  ufeful  difcovery  ;  but 
he  alfo,  who  can  point  out  and  recommend  an  innocent 
pleafure.  Of  this  kind  are  the  pleafures  arifing  from 
the  obfervation  of  nature ;  and  they  are  highly  agree- 
able to  every  tafte  uncorrupted  by  vicious  indul- 
gence. 

There  will  always  be  many  in  a  rich  and  civilized 
country,  who,  as  they  are  born  to  the  enjoyment  of- 
competent  eftates,  engage  not  in  bufmefs  either  civil  or 
profeffional.  But  the  reftlefs  mind  muft  either  find  or 
make  an  objeft.  Pleafure,  therefore,  becomes,  to  the 
unemployed,  a  ferious  puriuit.  Whatever  is  its  eflence,  . 
and  whatever  thedeclaimer  may  urge  agiinftit,  pleafure 
will  be  fought  by  all  who  poffefs  the  liberty  of  election, . 
It  becomes  then  incumbent  on  the  moralift,  not  only  to 
urge  the  performance  of  duty,  but  to  exhibit  objefts 
that  pleafe  without  enervating  the  mind,  and  gratify 
defire  without  corrupting  the  principles. 

Rural 


No.  91.  MORAL,    &c.  39 

Rural  fcenes,  of  almoft  every  kind,  are  delightful  to 
the  mind  of  man.  The  verdant  plain,  the  flowery 
mead,  the  meandering  ftream,  the  playful  lamb,  the 
warbling  of  birds,  are  all  capable  of  exciting  emotions 
gently  agreeable.  But  the  misfortune  is,  that  the 
greater  part  are  hurried  on  in  the  career  of  life  with 
too  great  rapidity,  to  be  able  to  give  attention  to  that 
which  folicits  no  paflion.  The  darkeft  habitation  in  the 
dirtieit  llreet  of  the  metropolis,  where  money  can  be 
earned,  has  greater  charms,  with  many,  than  the  groves 
of  Hagley. 

Yet  the  patron  of  refined  pleafure,  the  elegant  Epi- 
curus, fixed  the  feat  of  his  enjoyment  in  a  garden.  He 
was  of  opinion  that  a  tranquil  fpot,  furnifhed  with  the 
united  fweets  of  art  and  nature,  was  the  beft  adapted  to 
delicate  repofe.  And  even  the  feverer  philofophers  of  an- 
tiquity  were  wont  to  difcourfe  in  the  made  of  a  fpread- 
ing  tree,  in  fome  cultivated  plantation. 

It  is  obvious,  on  intuition,  that  nature  often  intend*- 
ed  folely  to  pleafe  the  eye  in  her  vegetable  productions. 
She  decorates  the  floweret  that  fprings  beneath  our 
feet,  in  all  the  perfection  of  external  beauty.  She  has 
clothed  the  garden  with  a  conftant  fucceffion  of  various 
hues.  Even  the  leaves  of  the  tree  undergo  a  pleafing  vi- 
ciffitude.  The  frefh  verdure  which  they  exhibit  in  the 
fpring,  the  various  (hades  which  they  affume  in  fummer, 
the  yellow  and  ruflet  tinge  of  autumn,  and  the  naked- - 
nefs  of  winter,  afford  a  conftant  pleafure  to  a  lively- 
imagination.  From  the  fnow-drop  to  the  mofs-rofe, 
the  flower-garden  difplays  an  infinite  variety  of  /hape 
and  colour.  The  taile  of  the  florift  has  been  ridiculed 
as  trifling  ;  yet  furely  without  reafon.  Did  nature 
bring  forth  the  tulip  and  the  lily,  the  rofe  and  the 
honeyfuckle,  to  be  neglefted  by  the  haughty  pretender 
to  fuperior  reafon  ?  To  omit  a  fingle  focial  duty  for 
the  cultivation  of  a  polyanthus,  were  ridiculous  as  well 
as  criminal ;  but  to  pafs  by  the  beauties  laviflied  before 
us,  without  obferving  them,  is  no  lefs  ingratitude  than 
ftupidity.  A  bad  heart  finds  little  amufement  but  in  a 
communication  with  the  a&ive  world,  where  fcope  is 
given  for  the  indulgence  of  malignant  paffions ;  but  an 

amiable 


4»  ESSAYS,  No^pr. 

amiable  difpofition  is  commonly  known  by  a  tafte  for  the 
beauties  of  the  animal  and  the  vegetable  creation. 

The  northern  countries  of  Europe  are  by  no  means 
well  adapted  to  the  true  enjoyment  of  rural  fcenerv. 
Our  vernal  feafons,  which  the  poets  celebrate  in  afcl 
the  luxuriance  of  defcription,  are  commonly  rendered 
cold  and  uncomfortable,  by  the  long  continuance  of  an 
eaflerly  wind.  Our  poets  borrowed  their  ideas  of  a 
fpring  from  the  poets  of  Italy,  who  collected  theirs  from 
nature.  A  genial  day  in  April,  is  among  us  the  fubjeft 
of  general  congratulation.  And,  while  the  lilac  blof- 
foms,  and  the  laburnum  drops  its  golden  clufters,  the 
fhivering  poftefTor  of  them  is  conftrained  to  feek  warmth 
at  the  fide  of  his  chimney  Yet,  from  the  temperature 
of  our  climate  we  derive  a  beauty  unknown  in  the  gar- 
dens of  a  warmer  country.  Few  objects  are  more 
pleaiir.g  than  the  fmooth  lawn  ;  but  the  foft  verdure 
which  continues  its  beauty,  is  not  to  be  found  in  more 
-fouthern  climates.  It  is  certainly  true,  that  the  rarity 
of  our  truly  vernal  weather,  like  that  of  other  delights, 
increafes  the  pleafure  of  it ;  and  it  is  probable,  for  this 
reafon,  that  an  Engliihman,  notwithstanding  his  com- 
plaints againft  his  atmofphere,  enjoys  the  pleafures  of  a 
garden  in  their  full  perfection.  A  fine  day,  fays  fcir 
William  Temple,  is  a  kind  of  fenfual  pleafure  ;  but  furely 
it  would  ceafe  to  be  fuch,  if  every  day  were  fine. 

A  practical  attention  to  a  garden,  is  by  fome  efleemed 
a  degrading  employment.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  paitoral 
and  agricultural  manners,  if  we  may  form  a  judgment 
from  thi?  dignified  defcriptions  of  Virgil,  are  greatly  de- 
generated. The  employments  of  fhepherds  and  hulband- 
men  are  now  become  mean  and  fordid.  The  work  of  the 
garden  is  ufually  left  to  a  peafant.  Nor  is  it'unreafon- 
able  to  aiilgn  the  labour,  which  wearies  without  amufe- 
ment,  to  thofe  who  are  fufiiciently  amufed  by  the  pro- 
fpect  of  their  wages.  But  the  operations  of  grafting,  of 
inoculating,  of  pruning,  of  tranfplanting,'  are  curious 
experiments  in  natural  philofophy";  .and,  that  they  are 
pleating  as  well  as  curious,  thofe  can  teflify,  who  re- 
member what  they  felt  on  feeing  their  attempts  in.  the 
amufement  of  practical  gardening  attended  with  fuccd's,, 

' 


No.  91.  MORAL,    &c.  41 

Among  the  employments  fuitable  toold  age,  Cicero  has 
enumerated  the  fuperintendence  of  a  garden.  It  requires 
no  great  exertion  of  mind  or  body  ;  and  its  fatisfa&ions  are 
ef  that  kind  which  pleafc  without  violent  agitation.  Its 
benciicial  influence  on  health,  is  an  additional  reafon  for 
an  attention  to  it  at  an  age  when  infirmities  abound. 

In  almoft  every  defcription  of  the  feats  of  theblefied, 
ideas  of  a  garden  feem  to  have  predominated.  The 
word  Paradife  itfelf  is  fynonymous  with  garden.  The 
f.elds  of  Elyiium,  that  Avect  region  of  poefy,  are 
adorned  with  all  that  imagination  can  conceive  to  be 
delightful.  Some  of  the  molt  pleafing  paffages  of 
Milton,  are  thofe  in  which  he  reprefents  the  happy  Pair 
engaged  in  cultivating  their  blifsful  abode.  Poets  have 
always  been  delighted  with  the  beauties  of  a  garden. 
Lucan  is  reprefented  by  Juvenal  as  repofing  in  his 
garden.  Virgil's  Georgics  prove  him  to  have  been, 
captivated  with  rural  fcenes ;  though,  to  the  furprife  of 
his  readers,  he  has  not  afligned  a  book  to  the  fubjeft  c-f 
a  garden.  Our  Shenftone  made  it  his  ftudy  ;  but,  with, 
ait  his  tafte  and  fondnefs  for  it,  he  was  not  happy  in  it. 
The  captivating  fcenes  which  he  created  at  the  Lea- 
fowes,  afforded  him,  it  is  faid,  little  pleafure  in  the 
abfence  of  fpedlators.  The  truth  is,  he  made  the  em- 
belliflimcnt  of  his  grounds,  which  fhould  have  been  the 
amufemcnt  of  his  life,  the  bufinefs  of  it;  and  involved 
himfelf  in  fuch  tr  ubles,  by  the  expences  it  occafioned, 
asneceflarily  excluded  tranquil  enjoyment. 

It  is  the  lot  of  few,  in  comparifon,  to  pofTefs  territo- 
ries like  his,  extenfive  and  fufficiently  well-adapted  to 
conftkute  an  ornamented  farm.  Still  fewer  are  capable 
of  fupportir.g  the  expence  of  prefervingit  in  good  con- 
dition. But  let  not  the  rich  fuppofe  they  have  appro- 
priated the  pleafures  of  a  garden.  The  pcffeflbr  of  an 
acre,  or  a  final ler  portion,  may  receive  a  real  pleafure, 
from  obferving  the  progrefs  of  vegetation,  even  in  a 
plantation  of  culinary  plants.  A  very  limited  traft  pro- 
perly attended  to,  will  furniih  ample  employment  for  aa 
individual.  Nor  let  it  be  thought  a  mean  care  ;  for  the 
fame  hand  that  raifed  the  cedar,  formed  the  hyflbp  on 
the  wall.  Even  the  orchard,  cultivated  folely  for  ad- 
vantage, exhibits  beauties  unequalled  in  the  fluubbery ; 


&  ESSAYS,  No.  92. 

nor  can  the  green-houfe  produce  an  appearance  to  ex- 
ceed the  blofibm  of  the  apple  and  the  almond. 

Amufement  reigns,  fays  Dr.  Young,  man's  great 
demand.  Happy  were  it,  if  the  amufement  of  ma- 
naging a  garden  were  more  generally  relifhed.  It  would 
furely  be  more  conducive  to  health,  and  the  preferva- 
tion  of  our  faculties  to  extreme  old  age,  were  that  time, 
which  is  now  devoted  to  the  dice  and  to  the  card-table, 
fpent  in  the  open  air,  and  in  aftive  employment. 


No.XCII.   ON  THE  GRAVE  AND   GAY  SPECIES 
OF  PHILOSOPHY. 


THE  world  has  ever  been  viewed,  by  men  of  differ- 
ent difpofitions,  in  a  light  totally  different.  The 
thoughtful  and  melancholy  have  reprefented  it  as  a  vale 
of  mifery  ;  the  gay  and  the  volatile,  as  a  theatre  abound- 
ing with  delightful  entertainments,  if  the  fpeftators 
are  but  in  good  humour.  The  whole  difference,  indeed, 
it  has  been  faid,  arifes  from  the  various  ftate  of  the 
minds  of  men,  and  not  from  any  inconfiftent  diverfity- 
in  the  conftitution  of  things.  It  would  therefore  feem 
probable,  that  the  greater  part  would  embrace  the  more 
agreeable  fide,  from  motives  of  felf-intereft  and  gratifi- 
cation. But  the  truth  is,  there  are  almoftas  many  fol- 
lowers of  Heraclitus  as  of  Democritus. 

That  there  is  an  effential  difference  in  the  original 
form  of  minds,  there  is  no  doubt ;  and  to  this  caufe  is 
to  be  attributed,  that  fome  are  gloomy,  others  cheer- 
ful. But  habit  is  often  no  lefs  concerned  than  nature. 
For  it  is  remarkable  that,  among  moral  writers,  thofe 
who  have  enjoyed  wealth  and  the  company  of  the  great ; 
and  who  consequently  partook  of  various  plcafures, 
have  commonly  chofen  the  comfortable  kind  of  philo- 
fophy  ;  while  they  who  were  opprefled  by  want,  and 
excluded  from  enjoyment,  have  no  lefs  naturally  repre- 
fented life,  fuch  as  they  found  it,  as  a  ftate  of  mifery, 
interrupted  only  by  fhort-lived.  and  unfubftantial  gratifi- 
cations.. 

The: 


No.  92.  MORAL,     &c.  4j 

The  Englifh  nation  is  charafteriftically  grave;  and  of 
courfe  the  graver  kind  of  philofophy  has  been  much  cul- 
tivated in  England.  There  are  few  books  that  pleafe 
more  generally  than  the  Night  Thoughts  of  Young. 
Hervey's  Meditations  are  more  frequently  read  than 
many  works  of  humour,  and  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
grefs  has  given  as  much  pleafure  among  the  Englifh  vul- 
gar as  the  Quixote  of  Cervantes. 

But  our  increafe  of  wealth,  and  our  imitation  of 
French  and  Afiatic  manners,  have  greatly  altered  our  na- 
tural difpofition.  We  begin  to  relilh  none  but  the  gayer 
kind  of  philofophy.  Horace  would  at  prefent  be  more 
read  than  Juvenal,  and  Lucian  than  Seneca. 

Every  admirer  of  dignified  diclion  and  of  folid  fenfe 
muft  be  delighted  with  the  Rambler  ;  and  yet  it  has  been 
faid,  that  the  World,  and  other  lefs  folid  performances, 
are  now  more  univerfally  read  and  approved,  at  leaft  in 
the  politer  circles.  Jt  muft  indeed  be  confefled,  that  be- 
fides  fome  affectations  which  juftly  give  offence,  thofe 
excellent  papers  induce  a  melancholy  by  no  means  com- 
patible with  an  active  or  a  pleafurable  life.  They  in- 
fpire  virtuous  fentiments,  but  they  deprefs  thofe  fpirits 
which  are  neceflary  to  put  them  in  practice.  I  venerate 
the  old  age  of  their  juftly  celebrated  author;  I  admire 
his  great  exertions  ;  and  when  I  affert,  that  the  gloomy 
grandeur  of  fome  among  his  moral  writings  communi- 
cates a  fympathetic  melancholy  to  the  reader's  mind,  I 
by  no  means  detract  from  his  literary  honours. 

The  philofophy  of  Epicurus  is  in  fome  degree  adopt- 
ed by  the  greater  part,  moft  of  whom  embrace  his  tenets 
without  having  heard  of  his  name.  The  truth  is,  human 
nature  is  naturally  inclined  to  ptjrfue  pleafure,  and  to 
avoid  all  that  has  the  appearance  of  wretchednefs  and 
woe.  Even  they  who  devote  themfelves  to  melancholy, 
find  a  gloomy  pleafure  in  it ;  a  pleafure  fcarcely  re- 
cognized by  the  gay  and  luxurious,  but  yet  real  and 
fatisfadlory. 

The  fevere  philofophy,  though  lefs  agreeable  to  the 
gayer  ranks,  is  the  more  favourable  to  virtue.  Seneca 
and  Antoninus  are  fevere  moralifts.  They  exhibit  life 
in  its  lefs  pleafing  afpedls,  and  exaft  duties  not  to  be  per- 
formed without  painful  efforts.  But  they  call  forth  the 

latent. 


4*  ESSAYS,  No.  92, 

latent  powers  of  the  mind,  and  by  requiring  an  exertion 
beyond  the  natural  ftrength,  really  compel  it  to  efFecl  all 
that  it  is  able.  Indolence  prevents  men  in  general  from 
effecting  all  that  they  are  able.  The  pleafurable  fyitern 
difl'uades  th-em  from  the  attempt.  And  if  there  were 
net  fome  auftere  inftruclors,  and  fome  faithful  followers 
of  them,  there  would  not  be  active  virtue  enough  in  a 
community  to  preferve  its  political  exigence. 

In  the  earlier  periods  of  fociety  the  grave  philofophy 
is  moft  cultivated.  For  then  virtuous  exertions  are  moft 
neceilhry,  and  luxurious  indulgences  precluded.  Sue- 
cefs,  and  increafe  in  wealth  and  glory,  are  the  ufual 
confequence.  Luxury  fucceeds  in  a  conrfe  as  certain  in 
all  its  ftages  as  any  phyfical  progrefs.  A  tafte  for  a  light, 
cheerful,  fanciful  philcfophy,  foon  explodes  the  fullen 
precepts  of  rigid  moralifts.  Manners  are  relaxed,  and 
naturally  bring  on  a  decJenfion  of  empire.  At  leaft  all 
regard  for  liberty  is  loft;  and  the  mind,  enervated  with 
pleafure,  gladly  finks  in  the  repofe  of  defpotifm. 

It  is  evident  that  in  our  own  country,  the  feverer  phi- 
lofophy lofes  ground.  This,  among  many  others,  is  a 
fymptcm  of  corruption,  ?.nd  the  haibinger  of  decay.  An 
imitation  of  French  manners  has  greatly  accelerated  this 
revolution  in  our  fentiments.  And,  after  all,  it  is  a  forced 
and  unnatural  change  ;  for  an  Englimman,  whether  from 
the  influence  of  climate,  or  fome  caufe  inherent  in  his 
conftitmion,  is  by  nature  grave,  and  difpofed  to  admit 
manly  thoughts,  and  to  praclife  m?.nly  actions. 

The  influence  of  books  on  the  national  manners  in  a 
community,  of  which  almoft  every  member  devotes  fome 
part  of  his  time  to  reading-,  rr.uft  be  important.  And 
among  other  methods  which  might  be  ufed  to  excite  the 
fpirit  of  patriotifm  and  political  virtue,  it  might  be  pro- 
per to  reft;  re  a  tafte  forfolid  and  fevere  morality,  and  to 
explode  thofe  light,  fuperfkial,  fentimental,  and  affected 
productions,  which,  while  they  pleafe  ihe  fickly  mind, 
encreafe  its  imbecility. 


No.  XCIII. 


No.  93.  MORAL,      Sec. 


NO.     XCIII.        ON     MONUMENTAL     INSCRIP- 
TIONS. 


IT  was  the  early  wifh  of  Pope,  that,  when  he  d'ed, 
not  a  Hone  might  tell  where  he  lay.  It  is  a  wifh 
that  will  commonly  be  granted  with  reluctance.  The 
affedion  of  thofe  whom  we  leave  behind  us,  is  at  a  lofs 
for  methods  to  difplay  its  wonted  folicitude,  and  feeks 
confolation  under  forrow  in  doing  honour  to  all  that 
remains.  It  is  natural  that  filial  piety, 'parental  tender- 
nefs,  and  conjugal  love,  mould  mark,  with  fome  fond 
memorial,  the  clay-cold  fpot  where  the  form,  Hill  fofter- 
ed  in  the  bofom,  moulders  away.  And  did  affection  go 
no  farther,  who  could  cenfure?  But,  in  recording  the 
virtues  of  the  departed,  either  zeal  or  vanity  often  leads 
to  an  excefs  perfectly  ludicrous. 

A  marble  monument,  with  an  inscription  palpably 
falfe  and  ridiculoufly  pompous,  is  far  more  offenfive 
to  true  tafte,  than  the  wooden  memorial  of  the  ruftic, 
fculptured  with  painted  bones,  and  decked  out  with 
death's-head  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow.  There 
is  an  elegance  and  a  claflical  Simplicity  in  the  turf- 
clad  heap  of  mould  which  covers  the  poor  man's  grave, 
though  it  has  nothing  to  defend  it  from  the  infults  of 
the  proud  but  a  bramble,  The  primrofe  that  grows 
upon  it  is  a  better  ornament,  than  the  gilded  lies  on  the 
oppreflbr's  tombftone. 

The  proftitution  of  praife  is  injurious  to  virtue.  That 
imaginary  life  after  death,  which  confiits  in  a  remem- 
brance of  our  worth  cherifhed  in  the  breafts  of  others, 
though  it  is  defpifed  by  the  fevere  reafbner,  has  com- 
monly been  an  additional  motive  for  ejcenion  to  the 
r.oblett  fpirits  that  hav_-  dignified  human  nature.  But 
when  we  fee  the  ftuuied  panegyric  engraven  on  the 
marble  that  inclofes  the  remains  of  the  worthbfs,  we 
defpife  the  eulogium  ihat  mankind  are  mean  enough  to 
bellow  on  every  one  thai  will  pay  the  mafon.  Thus  one 

powerful 


46  ESSAYS,  No.  93. 

powerful  motive  is  loft,  which  might  operate  on  the  ge- 
nerous in  (timulating  them  to  a  worthy  condufl. 

On  the  tombftones  of  the  truly  great,  it  is  certainly 
right  that  an  infcription  fhould  be  written  confiftent  with 
their  dignity.  In  order  to  be  fo,  it  muft  not  be  prolix. 
When  their  names  and  age  make  all  the  fepulchral  hif- 
tory  of  diftinguifhed  perfonages,  it  feems  to  be  implied 
that  the  reft  is  fufficiently  known  ;  but  when  the  marble 
ambitioufly  enlarges  on  their  excellence,  it  argues  that 
the  world  wants  the  information.  It  is  better  that  the 
paflenger,  when  he  fees  an  eminent  name,  fhould  recol- 
left,  while  he  ftrikes  his  penfive  bofom,  the  virtues  of  its 
owner,  than  that  his  remarks  mould  be  anticipated  by 
an  obtruding  narrative. 

The  llyle  of  epitaphs  ufually  adopted  has  been  too 
diffufe.  The  noble  ancients,  thofe  patterns  of  unaf- 
fedled  magnificence,  confulted  real  dignity  in  the  bre- 
vity of  their  epitaphs.  As  an  hiflorical  monument,  at 
an  age  when  printing  was  unknown,  they  fometimes 
engraved  the  exploits  of  a  warrior  on  the  marble ;  but 
in  general  they  recorded  little  more  than  the  name  of 
the  departed.  The  Grecian  mufe  fometimes  poured 
the  fweet  melody  of  verfe  at  the  mrine  of  a  poet  or 
hero;  but  (he  never  condefcended  to  mean  flattery, 
nor  difplayed  the  bloated  oftentation  of  a  modern  pa- 
negyric. 

There  are  many  excellent  epitaphs  in  the  Englifli 
language,  both  in  verfe  and  profe.  In  the  diffufe  kind, 
that  on  the  infamous  Chartres  is  a  fine  model.  Weft- 
irrinfter  Abbey  exhibits  many  infcriptions  written  with 
manly,  forcible,  and  energetic  elegance.  The  great 
fault  has  been,  a  redundance  of  epithets  in  the  fuper- 
lative  degree. 

We  have  alfo  many  fine  poetical  epitaphs.  Thofe 
of  Dryden  and  Pope  are  the  moft  defervedly  celebrated  ; 
though  thofe  of  Pope  have  been  feverely  criticifed.  In 
general,  the  metrical  are  inferior  to  the  profaic.  Some 
of  the  beft  are  crowded  with  antithefes,  a  fault  which 
renders  them  inferior  to  the  Grecian  ;  and  fome  of  the 
worft,  many  of  which  are  found  in  the  moft  public 
cemeteries,  Hand  forth  a  difgrace  to  national  tafte. 

The 


No.  93.  MORAL,    &c.  47 

The  love  of  rhyme  defcends  to  the  low-ell  ranks.  The 
parifh-clerk  is  commonly  called  upon  for  a  Have  or  two 
of  verfes,  by  every  ruftic  that  can  raife  a  poll  and  rail 
to  the  memory  of  his  relation  ;  and  there  are  few  church- 
yards in  the  kingdom,  where  that  favourite  ilanza  "  Af- 
"  flidions  fore  long  time  I  bore,"  occurs  not  more  than 
once. 

But  our  ef  itaphs  are  moft  commonly  written  in  Latin  ; 
probably  became  it  is  intelligible  to  foreigners,  and  is 
capable  of  more  elegance  and  elevation.  Our  country 
has  produced  many  writers  remarkable  for  beautiful 
latinity  :  accordingly  we  find  infcriptions  in  every  part 
of  the  kingdom  abounding  with  claflical  expreffions. 
The  misfortune  has  been,  that  many  of  them  have  en- 
croached on  the  province  of  biography ;  and  real  dig- 
nity has  been  loll  in  the  affectation  of  it,  in  a  tedious 
and  circumftantial  detail  of  defcents,  pedigrees,  and  re- 
lationfhip.  The  reader  is  tired,  before  he  has  obtained 
a  clear  idea  of  the  character  ana  family  defcribed.  His 
eyes  have  failed,  even  if  his  attention  perfevered.  The 
epitaph  on  the  pious  Nellon,  for  inllance,  confifls  of 
above  eighty  lines. 

The  punning  and  epigrammatic  epitaph  was  much, 
in  faftiion  a  century  or  two  ago.  That  on  fair  Rofa- 
mond  at  Godflow  might  furely  have  been  replete  with 
the  tendered  fentiment,  but  it  is  merely  a  wretched  di- 
ftich  of  puns  and  monkifh  rhymes.  This  fpecies  is  at 
prefent  quite  exploded,  and  little  need  be  faid  to  prove 
its  great  impropriety.  Falfe  wit  is  always  mifplaced  ; 
but  the  true  feems  to  be  excluded  from  the  epitaph. 
Who  can  bear  merriment  or  buffoonery  on  a  tomb- 
ftone  r  The  tender  and  elegiac,  or  the  manly  and  fe- 
vere  ilyle,  feems  to  be  bell  adapted  to  the  monumental 
infcription.  But  neither  the  pathetic  nor  fublime  is  com- 
patible with  the  ludicrous. 

The  authors  of  our  epitaphs  are  feldom  known.  One 
of  the  bed  that  I  can  recoiled,  was  the  claflical  Bourne. 
The  few  he  has  left  us  are  mailer- pieces.  That  in 
Weftminfler  Abbey,  on  Dickenfon  the  archite«H,  is  truly 
fublime. 

In  our  ifland  there  has  certainly  been  no  dearth  of  ge- 
nius for  monumental  infcriptions ;  though  there  is  one 

circumllance 


4$  ESSAYS,  No.  94. 

circumftance  which  might  induce  a  foreigner  to  think 
the  contrary.  The  famous  Diuchefs  of  Marlbo  ough  is 
faid  to  have  offered,  without  fuccefs,  five  hundred  pounds 
for  an  epitaph  adequate  to  the  dignity  of  her  Duke. 
Her  grace,  whofe  tafte  was  not  very  juft,  would  probably 
have  expe&ed  a  hiftory  long  enough  to  cover  with  in- 
fcription  the  unwieldy  pile  of  ftones  called  Blenheim- 
hoiife.  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  a  tedious  epitaph, 
imnutely  relating  his  atchievements,  would  rather  leflen 
than  exalt  him  in  the  eyes  of  mankind.  Would  not 
Alexander  the  Great  have  appeared  rather  beneath  the 
dignity  of  that  name,  if  it  had  been  written  on  his 
tomb,  that  the  fon  of  Philip  was  reputed  to  have  been, 
in  his  day,  the  wifeft  general,  the  boldeft  hero,  the  moft 
accomplifhed  man,  with  a  hundred  other  attributes  ? 
Would  he  have  excited  much  admiration,  if  he  had  beea 
handed  down  to  us,  merely  in  an  epitaph  abounding 
uith  thofe  inflated  fuperlatives,  which  goihic  ideas  of 
grandeur  have  now  introduced  ?  It  might  have  ferved 
as  a  complimentary  epitaph  on  an  Alderman,  who  died 
of  repletion  ;  and  would  perhaps  have  borne  fome  ana- 
logy to  him  in  the  circumftance  of  unnatural  tumour. 


NO.     XCIV.        CURSORY      THOUGHTS      ON 
BIOGRAPHY. 


AMONG  the  many  arguments  advanced  to  recom- 
mend the  ftudy  of  hiftory,  it  has  been  faid,  that 
it  teaches  wifdom  without  the  danger  of  experience,  and, 
by  pointing  out  the  paths  of  thofe  who  have  gone  before 
us,  facilitates  the  journey  of  life.  Hiftory  has  been  call- 
ed philofophy  teaching  by  examples.  But,  after  all,  it 
jnuft  be  allowed,  that  civil  hiftory  at  large  is  lefs  capable 
of  regulating;  moral  than  political  conduct.  The  de- 
fcriptions  of  battles,  the  accounts  of  debates,  the  cha- 
racters of  kinq;s  and  heroes,  contain  very  little  that  can 
direct  the  actions  of  the  private  and  the  more  numerous 
ranks  in  the  community. 

But 


No.  94.  MORAL,    &c.  49 

But  an  exaft  and  authentic  account  of  individuals,  who 
have  greatly  excelled  in  any  of  the  departments  ofadive 
or  contemplative  life,  feems  to  be  a  mode  of  inftruftion 
beft  fuited  to  an  animal,  like  man,  prone  to  imitation. 
When  a  fingle  character  is  diflinftly  delineated,  we  caa 
purfue  the  outline,  with  an  eafe  equal  to  that  with  which, 
the  painter  copies  from  the  original  picture  placed  before 
his  eyes.  We  have  the  exprefs  authority  of  the  pattern, 
we  havechofen  to  direct  us  in  every  emergency,  and  can 
tread,  with  implicit  confidence, in  the  footlteps  of  the  moit 
diflinguifhed  men,  without  the  furpence  of  deliberate  fe- 
leclion.  It  is  a  remark  of  Arillotle,  that  the  ilory  of  an 
individual,  as  it  is  a  fingle  object,  is  comprehended  mere 
fully,  and  therefore  attended  to  with  greater  pleafure, 
than  a  hiftory  in  which  many  perfonages  are  introduced. 
For  thefe  reafcns,  biography  appears  to  be  more  ia« 
ftrudive  than  civil  hiftory,  though  it  has  commonly  been 
written  with  a  lefs  degree  of  attention.  Herodotus  is 
all  fweetnefs.  Thucydides  exhibits  the  folid  and  aullere 
beauties.  Xenophon,  the  Attic  bee,  prefer. ts  us  with  a 
ftyle  flowing  with  honey.  Livy  difplays  a  moil  mailer- 
ly  composition,  and  paints  in  glowing  colours  all  that 
he  relates.  Sallull  rivals  his  Grecian  mailer  >  Guicciar- 
din  and  Vertot  have  exhibited  in  their  writings  fome  of 
the  genuine  graces  of  the  hifioric  mule.  But  among 
biographers,  Scarcely  any  can  juftly  claim  a  rank  with 
the  firft  writers  of  the  golden  age. 

^  As  a  diligent  colleftor  of  faft$,  as  a  warm  friend  to 
virtue,  as  an  entraining  narrator,  I  venerate  the  name 
of  Plutarch.  His  writings  bear  evident  marks  of  exten- 
five  reading,  and  communicate  much  and  multifarious 
knowledge.  Theodore  Gaza  has  faid,  that  if  ail  books 
were  loll,  and  he  might  recover  one,  it  mould  be  Plutarch. 
He  is  indeed  an  invaluable  treafure  of  ancient  learning  ; 
for  he  feleSed  paffiges  from  books  now  totally  loil,  and 
inferted  them  very  liberally  in  his  works.  Add  to  this, 
that  he  is  an  admirable  moralift.  But  his  judgment 
feems  not  to  have  been  alv.  enough  to  manage 

the  unwieldy  mafs  of  learning  he  had  aflembled.  He 
indulged  the  weakeil  fupcrRhion.  He  is  ever  relating 
ftories,  which  Horace  calls  ANILES,  or  the  tales  of  old 
wcMv.en.  Merely  for  an  oftcntatious  difplay  of  erudition, 
VOL.  II.  D  he 


$e>  ESSAYS.  No.  94. 

he  digreffes  beyond  all  reafonable  limits.  His  idea  of 
drawing  parallels  was  excellent;  and  he  has  fometimes 
drawn  them  admirably,  though,  as  the  critics  fay,  not 
without  a  partiality  to  his  own  countrymen.  They  have 
convicted  him  of  this  unphilofophical  attachment  in  the 
comparifon  between  Tully  and  Demofthenes,  Cato  and 
Ariflides,  Sylla  and  Lyfander,  Marcellus  and  Pelopidas. 

They  who  are  willing  to  allow  him  every  other  merit, 
give  up  his  flyle  as  harm  and  inelegant.  Though  cer- 
tainly an  ufeful,  he  cannot  be  etteemed  a  fine  writer; 
and  whatever  merit  he  poflefles,  his  inftancedoes  not  re- 
fute the  aflertion,  that  biographical  has  never  yet  equal- 
led  civil  hiftory. 

The  long  and  diffufe  accounts  of  Plutarch  have  been 
compared  to  coloflal  ftatues ;  the  concife  hi/lories  of 
Cornelius  Nepos,  to  medallions.  Cornelius  Nepos  has 
a  claim  from  the  age  he  flourished  in,  from  his  language, 
and  from  his  fidelity,  to  the  rank  of  a  claffic ;  but  by  no 
means  to  the  firft  rank.  It  is  fufpe&ed  by  many,  that 
as  Trogus  was  epitomized  by  Juftin,  fo  Nepos  was  ab- 
breviated by  a  writer,  who  flourilhcd  under  Theodofius 
an  the  decline  of  polite  literature.  The  life  of  Atticus, 
if  we  may  pronounce  from  internal  evidence,  continues 
unaltered,  and  reflects  great  honour  on  its  writer,  as  a 
fne  picture  of  a  beautiful  original. 

Diogenes  Laertius  chofe  a  fubjeft  well  adapted  to  dif- 
play  ingenuity.  The  lives  of  the  wifeft  men  whom  the 
world  ever  produced,  if  well  written,  would  have  been 
a  moil  valuable  acquifition  to  ancient  learning.  But, 
with  a  fine  fubjeft,  he  is  deemed  by  the  critics  a  poor 
writer. 

It  is  to  be  wimed,  that  Tacitus  had  more  frequently 
exercifed  his  talents  in  biography.  His  life  of  Agri- 
cola  is,  perhaps,  the  beft  biographical  work  that  was 
ever  compofed.  It  is  written  in  that  beautiful  energetic 
Ityle,  which  charaderifes  this  fpirited  hiftorian  ;  and  it  is 
more  pleating  than  his  other  works,  becaufe  it  exhibits 
not  a  deformed  portrait.  Mallet's  Life  of  Bacon  is  a 
good  imitation  of  it. 

Suetonius  probably  drew  his  pidlures  from  the  life, 
and  they  are  loathfome  to  behold.  They  are,  however, 
ufeful  to  the  philofophej-,  as  they  enable  him  to  form  a 

more 


No.  94.  MORAL,    &c.  51 

more  complete  idea  of  human  nature  in  all  the  grada- 
tions of  degeneracy  and  perfedion.  They  are  alfo  to- 
lerably well  written.  Concife,  nervous,  fimple,  they 
pleafe  by  their  perfpicuity,  and  their  freedom  from  am- 
bitious ornament.  To  the  honour  of  their  author  it 
muft  be  faid,  that  Jie  appears  to  have  advanced  nothing 
through  flattery  or  refentment,  nor  to  have  fupprefled 
any  thing  through  fear,  but  to  have  paid  an  undaunted 
regard  to  veracity.  Erafmus  obferves,  that  he  wrote  as 
freely  as  the  emperors  whom  he  defcribed  had  lived. 

It  is  matter  of  furprife  and  regret,  that  we  have  not 
more  biographers.  Thoufands  and  tens  of  thoufands, 
eminent  in  every  accomplimment,  whofe  examples  might 
have  inftruded  the  world,  are  become  as  though  they 
had  never  been.  In  our  own  country,  it  is  true  that  there 
are  many  biographical  compilations,  but  they  are  for  the 
moft  part  incomplete.  Wood's  Athens,  though  a  book 
that  does  honour  to  the  moft  celebrated  univerfity,  has 
no  merit  as  an  elegant  compofition.  But  I  muft  not 
omit  the  tribute  of  praife  to  the  writer  of  the  life  of 
Cicero  ;  who  has  given  us  a  molt  accurate  account  of 
one  of  the  greateft  men  that  ever  lived,  in  a  ftyle  truly 
claffical  and  manly.  The  public  is  alfo  indebted  to  the 
author  of  the  Rambler  for  many  mafterly  pieces  of  bio- 
graphy. His  portraits  would  be  more  univerfally  and 
permanently  pleafing,  if  he  had  not  too  often  indulged 
hi?  fplcen,  and  converted  a  harlhnefs  of  feature  into  ab- 
folute  caricature.  I  never  could  admire  either  the  writ- 
ings or  the  life  of  the  chief  objeft  of  his  panegyric,  the 
unfortunate  Savage. 

Worth  is  often  unknown,  or  known  imperfectly,  till 
after  death  ;  till  that  period,  when  it  is  too  late  to  learn 
particular  circumilances  with  accuracy.  Hence  it  has 
happened  that  many  of  our  fecond-rate  authors  and 
aftors  in  every  department  of  life,  though  richly  -de- 
ferving  a  place  in  the  annals  of  fame,  are  recorded  only 
in  thoie  volumes,  where  to  be  born  and  die,  as  Pope 
fays,  makes  all  the  hiitory. 

To  preferve  their  o\vn  actions  from  oblivion  and  mif- 
reprefentation,  fome  writers  have  been  their  o\vn  bio- 
graphers. The  tafk  requires  great  delicacy.  The  very 
1)  2  attempt 


52  ESSAYS,  No.  94. 

attempt  indeed  implies  a  confiderable  degree  of  felf- 
value;  but  it  has  been  jullified  by  the  examples  of 
fj  huanus  and  Hume. 

Theie  has  appeared  in  our  times  and  country  a  bio- 
graphical work  on  an  extenfive  plan.  The  firft  edition 
of  the  Biographia  Britannica  was  well  defigned,  yet  un- 
equally, and,  upon  the  whole,  indifferently  executed. 
Many  diiHnguifhed  lives  are  totally  omitted;  many, which 
are  infignificant,  tedioufly  dcfcribed.  Though  there  is 
fometimes  much  labour  and  fagacity  exerted,  yet  there 
are  few  mafterly  remarks.  Moil  of  the  articles  were 
furnimed  by  writers  of  no  great  repute  ;  and  there  was 
every  reafon  for  the  new  edition  now  undertaken.  If  I 
might  prefume  to  fuggeft  an  improvement,  I  would 
advife,  that  elegantly  engraved  heads  mould  be  pre- 
fixed to  every  life,  whenever  they  can  be  procured  ;  and 
that  the  materials  mould  not  be  collected  from  books 
only,  but  from  the  traditionary  reports,  and  the  manu- 
icript  letters  remaining  in  the  families  of  defcendants. 
The  names  of  the  living  perfons  who  communicate  the 
hints  mould  be  added,  both  to  fecure  and  to  confirm 
their  authenticity. 

-  In  the  fecond  edition,  which  is  now  preparing,  though 
the  embeliifhment  of  plates  is  not  adopted,  yet  many 
other  mod  important  improvements  are  made  ;  parti- 
cularly, that  of  collecting  materials  from  traditionary 
as  well  as  printed  documents,  t  am  informed,  that  the 
learned  and  accurate  editor  is  in  polTeffion  of  a  great 
number  of  anecdotes  of  this  kind;  and  there  is  every 
reafon  to  believe,  that,  under  his  conduct,  the  work 
will  refleft  new  honour  on  the  Bruilh  nation. 


No.  XCV. 


No.  9$.  M  O  R  A  L,    &c.  53 


No.  XCV.      ON     HOSPITALITY,     AND     THE 
CIVILITIES  OF  COMMON  LIFE. 


IN  the  days  of  Horace,  our  countrymen  were  reputed 
to  be  fivage  in  their  behaviour  to  Grangers.  Thought 
in  ihe  prefent  age  che  charge  would  be  unjuil,  yet  it  mull 
be  owned,  that  there  is  a  referve  in  the  manner  of  an  un- 
adulterated Englifhman,  which  feems  to  confirm  the  opi- 
nion, that  he  inherits  a  portion  of  that  unfocial  fpirit 
which  difgraced  his  anceftors.  But  whatever  may  be  hi* 
natural  propenfuy,  it  is  certain,  that,  in  the  liberal  in- 
tercourfe  and  comprehenfive  education  which  prevail  in 
the  prefent  times,  there  is  fcarcely  any  country  in  the 
world  where  a  more  cordial  hofpitality  is  difplayed,  than 
in  fome  parts  of  England. 

The  days  of  Elizabeth  have  been  extolled  as  the  days 
of  genuine  hofpitality.  The  doors  were  thrown  open, 
and,  at  the  found  of  the  dinner-bell,  all  the  neighbour- 
ing country  crowded  to  the  fmoking  table.  Thefe  were 
happy  times  indeed,  fays  the  railer  againit  modern  refine- 
ment. Yet  it  has  been  juftly  doubted,  whether  this  in- 
difcriminaie  hofpitality  was  laudable.  There  was  fome- 
thing  generous  and  magnificent  in  the  idea,  and  it  gave 
the  nobles  of  the  land  the  influence  of  kings  over  their 
neighbourhood.  Yet  if  its  motive  and  its  moral  effeftj 
are  conddered,  it  will  appear  to  be  }u!tiy  exploded.  It 
proceeded  from  the  love  of  power  and  from  oilentation, 
and  it  produced  gluttony,  drur.kennefs,  and  all  their  con- 
fequent  vices. 

Confidered  in  a  charitable  light,  as  affording  food  to 
the  hungry,  it  will  be  found  a  lefs  ufeful  mode  than  the 
modern  inftitutiom  for  the  accomplishment  of  that  pur- 
pofe.  It  did  not  feleft  its  obf~£ts :  it  considered  not  the 
-  of  indigence  or  of  defcrt.  The  confequence  was, 
ih.it  it Mcreafed  indigence,  andleflened  defert;  for  expe- 
rience has  proved, that  unnecefTary  ah;,  .  tunable 
the  motive  of  them,  do  a  real  injury  where  they  mean  a 
D  3  benefit, 


54  ESSAYS,  No.  95. 

benefit.    They  promote  idlenefs,  by  teaching  poverty  to 
rely  on  other  aid  than  the  efforts  of  an  honeft  induftry. 

The  great  number  of  houfes  now  eftablifhed  for  the  re- 
ception of  travellers  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  and 
the  expeditious  modes  of  travelling,  which  render  delay 
wnneceflary,  have  contributed  to  reftrain  that  general 
l»ofpitality  which  opened  the  door  to  all  who  came.  Such 
"hofpitality  is  no  longer  wanted  ;  but  there  never  was  a 
time  when  judicious  civility,  of  all  kinds,  was  more  li- 
berally (hewn  to  ftrangers  than  theprefent.  And  what- 
ever the  old  Romans  or  the  modern  Gauls  may  affert  of 
Britim  ferocity  of  manners,  no  Italian  or  Frenchman  of 
character  ever  came  to  our  feparated  more,  toto  divifos 
orbe  Britannot,  without  having  felt  delight  at  his  hearty 
reception,  and  regret  on  his  departure. 

It  feems  probable  that  hofpitality  keeps  pace  with  ci- 
vilization. As  the  minds  of  a  people  are  enlarged  by 
improvements  in  knowledge,  and  communication  with 
their  neighbours,  the  felfim  and  morofe  afteftions  gra- 
dually lofe  ground.  In  feveral  parts  of  Europe,  where 
focial  improvements  have  not  yet  reached,  the  traveller  is 
either  confidered  as  lawful  prey,  or  totally  difregarded. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  find  the  natives  of  the  Society 
Ifles,  feparated  as  they  are  from  all  the  reft  of  the  world, 
and  by  no  means  far  removed  from  the  favage  ftate,  re- 
markably hofpitable.  Though  fear  might  in  fome  de- 
gree caufe  their  civility  to  Europeans,  yet  it  'yas  not  the 
fole  motive  of  it  ;  for  we  find  their  good  offices,  after  all 
apprehenfions  were  removed,  evidently  proceeding  from 
the  tendereft  and  moft  generous  affection.  On  the  firft 
appearance  of  the  Englifh  on  their  coafts,  they  naturally 
confidered  them  as  enemies,  and  boldly  oppofed  their 
invafion.  Many  of  them  exhibited  adls  of  heroifm,  in 
defence  of  their  country,  fcarcely  exceeded  in  the  annals 
of  antiquity.  But  no  fooner  was  the  branch  of  peace 
held  out,  than  they  received  their  wonderful  vifitors  with 
open  arms ;  with  a  humanity  that  reflects  difgrace  on 
the  maritime  villages  of  Europe,  where  a  fhipwrecked 
fellow-creature,  and  fellow-countryman,  has  been  de- 
ftroyed  for  the  fake  of  plundering  his  vefiel.  In  other 
iflands  difcovered  by  our  circumnavigators,  we  find,  that 
no  kindnefs  could  mitigate  the  ferocity  of  the  rude  child 

ef 


No.  95.  MORAL,    &c.  -    5£ 

of  nature.  The  hofpitality  of  barbarians,  like  all  virtues 
that  proceed  not  from  principle,  but  from  humour  and 
accidental  caufes,  is  of  Huh  value.  A  clearer  light  than 
the  light  of  nature  is  necefiary  to  give  a  fteady  operatiom 
to  theVeelings  of  humanity. 

The  idea  which  chriftianity  has  fuggefled  of  the  rela- 
tion in  which  all  men  ftand  to  each  other,  is  wonderful!* 
adapted  to  promote  univerfal  hofpitality.  When  we  COR- 
fider  all  men  as  brothers,  we  fhall  naturally  receive  the 
ftranger  within  our  gates  with  cordial  kindnefs,  as  a  re 
lation  whom  we  have  never  yet  feen  before,  and  to  whom 
we  wifh  to  difplay  fome  fignal  of  our  love.  It  is  indeed 
true,  that  many  who  are  juftly  efteemed  worthy  perfo^s, 
do  not  reduce  this  generous  idea  to  practice;  and  the 
reafon  feems  to  be,  that  they  fuffer  the  attachments  ot" 
domeftic  life,  and  the  connections  of  confanguinity,  to 
engrofs  the  whole  of  their  affections.  Add  to  this,  that 
the  actual  exercife  of  beneficence  requires  foraethin^ 
which  is  lefs  in  our  power  than  benevolence. 

However  jufl  the  complaints  of  the  mifery  of  life,  yer 
great  occafions  for  the  difplay  of  beneficence  and  liberali- 
ty do  not  often  occur.  But  there  is  an  hourly  necefiity 
for  the  little  kind  offices  of  mutual  civility.  At  the  fame 
time  that  they  give  pleafure  to  others,  they  add  to  our 
own  happinefs  and  improvement.  Habitual  acts  of  kind- 
nefs have  a  powerful  effect  in  foftening  the  heart.  An 
intercourfe  with  polifhed  and  humane  company,  tends  to 
improve  the  difpofnion,  becaufe  it  requires  a  conformity 
of  manners.  And  it  is  certain,  that  a  fenfe  of  decorum, 
and  of  a  proper  external  behaviour,  will  reftrain  thofe 
whofe  natural  temper  would  otherwise  break  out  in  acri- 
monious and  petulant  converfation.  Even  the  affecta- 
tion of  philanthropy  will  in  time  contribute  to  realife  it. 
The  pleafure  refulting  from  an  act  of  kindnefs  naturally 
excites  a  wifli  to  repeat  it ;  and  indeed  the  general  efleem 
which  the  character  of  benevolence  procures,  is  fufficient 
to  induce  thofe  to  wifh  for  it,  who  act  only  from  the  mean 
motives  of  felf-intereit. 

As-wc  are  placed  in  a  world  where  natural  evil  abounds, 

we  ought  to  render  it  fupportable  to  each  other,  as  far  as 

human  endeavours  can  avail.     All  that  can  add  a  fweet 

ingredient  to  the  bitter  cup  muft  be  infufed.     Amid  the 

D  4  multitude 


56  ESSAYS,  No.  9?. 

multitude  of  thorns,  every  flower  that  will  grow  mail 
be  cultivated  with  care.  But  neither  pomp  nor  power 
are  of  themfeives  able  to  alleviate  the  load  of  life  The 
Jicart  requires  to  be  foothed  by  fympathv.  A  thoufaad 
little  attentions  from  all  arcund  us  are  necefTiry  to  ren- 
der cur  days  agreeable.  The  appearance  of- neglect  it* 
any  of  thofe  with  whom  \ve  are  conne&ed,  chills  our 
bofcm  with  chagrin,  or  kindles  the  fire  cf  refentinent. 
!Noihing  therefore  feejns  fo  likely  to  enfure  happinefs, 
as  our  mutual  endeavours  to  promote  it.  Our  fmgle  en- 
deavours, originating  and  terminating  in  ourieKci,  a;e 
ufually  unfuccefsful..  Providence  has  taken  care  to  fe- 
cure  that  intercourfe  which  is  necefTary  to  the  exi!lei:ce 
of  fociety,  by  rendering  it  the  greateft  fweetener  of  hu- 
man life. 

By  reciprocal  attentions,  we  are  enabled  to  beccme 
beneficent  without  expence.  A  fmile,  an  aftable  ad- 
drefs,  a  look  of  approbation,  are  often  capable  of  giv- 
ing  a  greater  pleafure  than  pecuniary  benefits  can  be- 
llow. The  mere  participation  of  the  fhidies  and 
amufements  f)f  others,  at  the  fame  time  that  it  gratifies 
ourfelves,  is:often  an  aft  of  real  humanity;  becaufe 
others  v\ou!d  not  enjoy  them  without  companions.  A 
friendly  viiit  in  a  folitary  hour,  is  often  a  greater  ac~l  of 
jcir.c'nefs  than  a  valuable  prefent. 

It  is  really  matter  of  furprife,  that  thofe  who  are  dif- 
tinguidied  by  rank  and  opulence,  mould  ever  be  un- 
popular in  their  neighbourhood.  They  muft  know  the 
value  of  popularity,  and  furely  nothing  is  more  eafiljr 
obtained  by  a  fuperior.  Their  notice  confers  honour  ; 
and  the  afpiring  heart  of  man  is  always  delighted  with 
dilUnclion.  A  gracious  look  from  them  diffufes  happi- 
nefs  on  the  lower  ranks.  But  it  ufually  happens,  than 
an  overgrown  rich  man  is  not  the  favourite  of  a  neigh- 
bouring country;  and  it  is  unfortunate,  that  pride  or 
inadvertence  often  prevent  men  from  ailing  the  godlike 
part  of  making  others  happy,  even  when  they  might  do 
it  without  inconvenience  to  themfeives. 


No.  XCVI. 


Na.  96.  MORAL,     &c.  57 


No.  XCVI.     ON  THE  MERIT  OF  ILLUSTRIOUS 
BIRTH. 


^"  HKRE  is  fcarcely  any  truth  of  which  the  world 
has  been  more  frequently  reminded  by  the  mo- 
ralifb,  than  the  unreafonabienefs  of  that  veneration 
which  is  paid  to  birth.  They  have  been  told,  that  vir- 
tue alone  is  true  nobility  ;  but  though  they  have  ac- 
knowledged the  aflertion  to  be  founded  in  reafon,  they 
have  continued,  uith  uniform  perseverance,  in  the /ame 
error.  The  luminous  glory  of  an  illullrioiis  anceltor, 
feems  to  have  difnifed  a  brilliancy  over  a  long  line  of 
defccndants,  too  opaque  of  tnemielves  to  emit  any  ori- 
ginal irradiations. 

Gratitude,  which  firft  raifes  a  benefaclor  to  a  diftin- 
guiihed  rank  in  chil  honours,  is  willing  to  continue  its 
kindnefs  to  his  immediate  offspring.  T.  he  diitinciion  is> 
rendered  hereditary.  This  predilection  for  an  anceftor 
foon  leads  to  the  accumulation  of  honours  and  pofiefiions 
in  his  fuccefibrs  ;  and  the  incenfe  originally  offered,  be- 
caufe  it  was  deferred,  is  at  laft  laviQied  at  the  Ihrine  of 
opulence,  independently  of  merit. 

Subordination  is,  indeed,  eflential  to  fociety.  The 
order  of  nobles,  as  hereditary  guardians  of  the  la*s,  is 
found  an  ufeful  political  eifablifhment ;  and  none  feerrt 
fo  well  adapted  to  fupply  it,  as  they  who  have  been 
railed  to  eminence  by  their  ancestors,  and  who  poflefs  a 
territorial  patrimony  in  the  land  which  they  are  to 
protect.  All  that  is  contended  for  is,  that  the  recom- 
mendation of  birth  may  not  fet  afide  or  depreciate  real 
merit,  the  praife  of  learning,  and  the  intrinlic  value  of 
-virtuous  exertions. 

Jt  is  a  remarkable  circumfbnce  in  the  hiftory  of  man- 
kind, that  fome  of  the  befl  books  have  been  written, 
and  fome  of  the  greateft  achievements  performed,  by 
thofe  whofe  origin  was  truly^jplebeian.  The  politeit 
and  gentecleil  bouks,  whether  the'  fentiments  or  the 
P  5  ftyle 


58  ESSAYS,  No.  96. 

ilyle  be  confidared,  have  been  produced  by  flavcs,  or 
the  defcendants  of  Haves.  Horace,  Phredrus,  and  Te- 
rence, wrote  in  a  ftyle  which  muft  have  been  the  ftand- 
ard  of  a  court,  to  an  intercourfe  with  which  they  were 
by  no  means  entitled  by  their  extraclion.  The  founders 
of  the  moft  diflinguifhed  families  emerged  from  the 
middle  and  the  lower  clafles,  by  the  fuperior  vigour  of 
their  natural  abilities,  or  by  extraordinary  efforts,  aflifted 
by  fortune.  And  unlefs  the  adventitious  circumftances 
of  wealth  and  civil  honours  can  effeft  a  change  in  the 
eonftituent  principles  of  the  mind  and  body,  there  is 
certainly  no  real  fuperiority  to  be  derived  in  a  boafted 
pedigree  of  Tudors  and  Plantagenets. 

And  yet  there  have  appeared  flatterers  who  have  in- 
direflly  fuggefted,  that  the  minds  of  the  nobility  feem 
to  be  caft  in  a  finer  mould,  and  to  have  an  elegance 
inherent  in  their  original  conftitution.  According  to 
this  hypothefis,  we  muft  go  on  to  fuppofe,  that  the 
mind  of  a  commoner,  exalted  to  the  higher  order  of 
fenators,  catches  this  elegance  by  the  contagion  of  in- 
vifible  effluvia.  On  his  creation  he  undergoes  a  kind  of 
new  birth,  and  puts  off  the  exuviae  which  encumbered 
and  degraded  him  in  the  lower  regions.  Thus  are  all 
the  occult  perfections  of  noble  blood  to  be  infufed  by 
the  mandate  of  a  monarch.  But  no,  faid  Maximilian 
to  a  man  who  afked  to  be  ennobled  by  him,  though 
I  can  give  you  riches  and  a  title,  I  cannot  make  you 
noble. 

In  truth,  there  is  many  a  nobleman,  according  to  the 
genuine  idea  of  nobility,  even  at  the  loom,  at  the 
plough,  and  in  the  fhop ;  and  many  more  in  the  middle 
ranks  of  mixed  fociety.  This  genuine  idea  contains  in 
it  generofity,  courage,  fpirit,  and  benevolence,  the  qua- 
lities cf  a  warm  and  open  heart,  totally  unconnected  with 
the  accidental  advantages  of  riches  and  honour  ;  and 
many  an  Englifh  failor  has  pcfieiled  more  of  the  real 
hero  than  a  lord  of  the  admiralty. 

If  indeed  there  is  any  fubftantial  difference  in  the 
quality  of  their  blood,  the  advantage  is  probably  on  the 
fide  of  the  inferior  claffes.  Their  indigence  and  their 
manual  employments  require  temperance  and  exercife, 
the  beli  purifiers  of  the  animal  juices.  But  the  indolence 

which 


No.  96.  MORAL,    &c.  59 

which  wealth  excites,  and  the  pleafures  which  fafhion- 
able  life  admits  without  reftraint,  have  a  natural  tend- 
ency to  vitiate  and  enfeeble  the  body  as  well  as  the  mind. 
And  among  the  many  privileges  inherited  by  him  who 
boafts  nobility  in  his  veins,  he  commonly  receives  the 
feeds  of  the  moft  painful  and  the  impureft  difeafes.  He 
difplays,  indeed,  a  coronet  on  his  coat  of  arms,  and  he 
has  a  long  pedigree  to  perufe  with  fecret  fatisfadion  ; 
but  he  has  often  a  gout  or  a  fcrophula,  which  make  him 
wifh  to  exchange  every  drop  derived  from  his  Norman 
anceftors,  for  the  pure  tide  that  warms  a  peafant's 
bofoin. 

The  fpirit  of  freedom,  moral,  mental,  and  political, 
which  prevails  in  England,  precludes  that  unreafonable 
attachment  to  birth,  which,  in  the  countries  of  defpo- 
tifm,  tends  to  elevate  the  noble  to  a  rank  fuperior  to 
humanity.  In  our  neighbour's  land,  the  region  of  ex- 
ternal elegance  united  with  real  meannefs,  the  implicit 
veneration  paid  to  birth,  adds  to  the  weight  of  legal 
oppreflion.  A  Frenchman  of  the  plebeian  order  attends 
to  a  Count  or  a  Marquis  with  all  the  filent  fubmiffion 
of  idolatry  ;  on  the  contrary,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
an  Englim  Gondolier  would  box  with  the  beft  Lord  in 
the  land,  if  he  were  affronted  by  him,  without  the  leaft 
regard  for  his  ftar  and  ribbon.  It  would  indeed  be  an 
additional  pleafure  to  the  natural  delight  of  conqueft, 
to  have  bruifed  a  puny  Lord.  Even  the  more  refined 
and  polifhed  do  not  idolife  illuftrious  birth.  In  truth, 
wealth  appears  to  be  the  objeft  of  more  univerfal  vene- 
ration. Noble  blood  and  noble  titles,  without  an  eftate 
to  fupport  them,  meet  with  great  compaffion  indeed, 
but  wiih  little  refpedl  -,  nor  is  the  man  who  has  raifed 
himfelf  to  eminence,  and  who  behaves  well  in  it,  nc- 
gleded  and  defpifed  becaufe  he  derives  no  luftre  from 
his  forefathers.  In  a  commercial  country,  where  gain 
is  the  general  objecl,  they  who  have  been  moil  fuccefs- 
ful  in  its  purfuit  will  be  revered  by  many,  whatever  was 
their  origin.  In  France,  where  honour  is  purfued  from 
the  monarch  to  the  cleanfer  of  a  jakcs,  the  diftinclion 
of  birth,  even  with  extreme  poverty,  is  enviable.  The 
brother  of  a  Marquis  would  rather  ilarvc  on  a  beggarly 
D  6  penfion, 


6o  ESSAYS,  No.  96. 

penfion,  than  pollute  himfelf  with  a  trade  by  which  he 
might  acquire  the  revenues  of  a  German  kingdom.  In 
our  land  of  good  fenfe,  this  folly  is  lofmg  ground  ;  and 
the  younger  brothers  of  noble  haute-,  often  think  it  no 
difgrace  to  rival  the  heir  in  a  princely  fortune  acquired 
by  honourable  merchrmdife. 

As  the  world  becomes  more  enlightened,  the  exorbi- 
tant value  which  has  been  placed  on  things  m  t  really 
valuable  will  decreafe.  Of  all  the  effefts  of  man's  ca- 
pricious admiration,  there  are  few  lefs  rational  than  the 
preference  of  illuitrious  defcent  to  perfonal  merit,  of 
difeafed  and  degenerate  nobility  to  health,  to  courage, 
to  learning,  and  to  virtue.  Of  all  the  objecls  of  pur- 
fuit  which  are  not  in  our  own  power,  the  want  of  dif- 
tinguifhed  birth  may  molt  eafily  be  diipenfed  with,  by 
thole  who  pofiefs  a  folid  judgment  of  that  which  makes 
and  keeps  us  happy.  There  may  be  fome  reafon  to  re- 
pine at  the  want  of  wealth  and  fame  ;  but  he  who  has 
derived  fiom  his  parent  health,  vigour,  and  all  the 
powers  of  perception,  need  not  lament  that  he  is  un- 
noticed at  the  herald's  office. 

It  has  been  obferved,  that  virtue  appears  more  ami- 
able, when  accompanied  with  beauty  ;  it  may  be  added, 
that  it  is  more  ufeful  when  recommended  to  the  notice 
of  mankind  by  the  diftinftion  of  an  honourable  anc'eftry. 
It  is  then  greatly  to  be  wifhed,  that  the  nobly  born  would 
endeavour  to  deferve  the  refpeft  which  the  world  pr.ys 
them  with  alacrity,  by  employing  their  influence  to  be- 
nevolent purpofes ;  to  thoie  purpolVs  which  can  at  all 
times  be  accomplished,  even  when  the  patriotic  exertions- 
of  the  field  and  cabinet  are  precluded. 


No.  XCVII. 


No.  97.  MORAL, 


No.  XCVII.  RELIGIOUS  AND  MORAL  PRIN- 
CIPLES NOT  ONLY  CONSISTENT  WITH,  BUT 
PROMOTIVE  OF,  TRUE  POLITENESS  AND  THE 
ART  OF  PLEASING. 


A  PHILOSOPHER  who,  in  the  aufterity  of  his 
j~\  virtue  Ihould  condemn  the  art  of  pleafing  as  un- 
worthy cultivation,  would  deferve  little  attention  from 
mr.nkind,  and  might  be  difmifled  to  his  folitary  tub, 
like  his  brother  Diogenes.  It  is,  indeed,  the  dictate  of 
humanity,  that  we  mould  endeavour  to  render  ourfelves 
agreeable  to  thofe  in  whofe  company  we  are  deftined 
to  travel  in  the  journey  of  life.  It  is"6ur  interefl,  it  is 
the  fource  of  perpetual  fatisfaftion  ;  it  is  one  of  our 
moil  important  duties  as  men,  and  particularly  required 
in  the  profeflbr  of  chriitianity. 

I  have  therefore  lamented,  that  they  who  have  taken 
the  moil  pains  to  recommend  an  attention  to  the  art 
cf  pleafing,  have  urged  it  only  on  the  mean  motives  of 
felf-intereft.  In  order  to  attain  the  power  of  pleafing 
they  have  recornmended  flattery  and  deceit ;  and  though 
they  have  required  in  their  pupils  the  appearances  of 
many  good  qualities,  they  have  not  iniifted  on  any  fub- 
f.antial  and  confiftent  virtue. 

It  is  my  wifh  to  exalt  this  amiable  talent  of  pleafing 
to  the  rank  ot  a  virtue  founded  on  principle,  and  on  the 
belt  difpofuions  of  human  nature.  I  would  feparate  it 
from  thofe  varnifhed  qualities,  which,  like  whited 
fepulchres,  are  bu:  a  clifguife  for  internal  deformity. 
A  ftudent  of  the  art  of  pleafing,  as  it  is  taught  in  the 
fchool  of  fafhion,  is  ail  foftnefs  and  plaufibility,  all 
benei'oience  and  gencrofity,  all  attention  and  alliduity, 
all  gracefulnefs  and  gentility.  Such  is  the  external 
appearance  ;  but  compare  it  with  his  private  life,  with 
thofe  actions  which  pafs  unfeen,  and  you  will  find 
them  by  no  means  corrcfpondent.  You  will  ufuaily  find 
a  hard  heart,  meannels,  felfilhnefs,  avarice,  and  a 

.total 


6z  ESSAYS,  No.  97. 

total  want  of  thofe  principles  from  which  alone  true 
benevolence,  fincere  friendfhip,  and  gentlenefs  of  di(* 
pofition  can  originate.  You  will,  indeed.,  find  even  the 
appearances  of  friendfhip  and  benevolence  proportioned 
to  the  fuppofed  riches  and  rank  of  him  whofe  favour 
and  patronage  are  cultivated. 

It  is  a  favourite  maxim  with  thofe  who  teach  the 
art  of  pleafing,  that  if  you  delire  to  pleafe  you  can 
fcarcely  fail  to  pleafe.  But  what  motive,  according 
to  their  doctrine,  is  to  excite  this  defire  ?  A  wifh  to 
render  all  with  whom  you  converfe  fubfervient  to  your 
interefled  purpofes  of  avarice  or  ambition.  It  is  a 
mean  and  defpicable  motive,  when  made  the  fole  and 
confhnt  principle  of  converfation  and  behaviour.  If 
this  life  is  the  whole  of  our  exiftence,  if  riches  and 
civil  honours  are  the  chief  good,  if  truth,  honour,  and 
generofity,  are  but  names  to  adorn  a  declamation,  then, 
indeed,  they  who  praftife  the  art  of  pleafing,  accord- 
ing to  the  vulgar  idea  of  it,  are,  after  all,  the  truly  and 
the  only  wife.  But  let  us  not  deem  fo  meanly  of  the 
world  and  its  Creator;  and  if  our  favourable  opinion 
of  things  be  an  error,  it  is  not  only  pardonable  but  glo- 
rious j  and  a  generous  man  will  fay,  like  the  noble  an- 
tient,  he  had  rather  err  with  a  Socrates  and  a  Plato, 
than  be  right  with  a  Machiavel. 

But,  indeed,  the  virtues  and  the  graces  are  much 
more  nearly  allied,  than  they  who  are  ftrangers  to  th« 
virtues  are  willing  to  acknowledge.  There  is  fomething 
extremely  beautiful  in  all  the  moral  virtues,  clearly 
iinderftood  and  properly  reduced  to  practice.  Religion 
is  alfo  declared  to  be  full  of  pleafantnefs,  in  that  vo- 
lume in  which  its  nature  is  defcribed  with  the  greateil 
authenticity.  It  muft  indeed  be  allowed,  that  he  who 
is  actuated  in  his  defire  of  pleating  by  morality  and  re- 
ligion, may  very  properly  add  all  the  embellifhments 
of  external  gracefulnefs  ;  and  he  may  reft  affined,  that 
the  fincerity  of  his  principles,  and  the  goodnefs  of  his 
character,  will  enfure  a  degree  of  fuccefs  in  his  attempts 
to  pleafe,  which  a  falfe  pretender,  with  all  his  dupli- 
city, can  never  obtain. 

If  true  politenefs  confifts  in  yielding  fomething  of 
oiir  own  preienfions  to  the  felf-lov?  of  others,  in  re- 

pjeffing 


No.  97.  MORAL,  &c.  63 

prefling  our  pride  and  arrogance,  and  ia  a  gentlenefs  cf 
fentiment  and  conduct  ;  furely  nothing  can  be  more  con- 
ducive to  it  than  a  religion  which  every  where  recom- 
mends brotherly  love,  meeknefs,  and  humility.  I  know 
not  how  paradoxical  my  opinion  might  appear  to  the 
fa fhionable  clubs  at  St.  James's,  or  to  the  profefled  men 
of  the  world,  or  to  the  proficient  in  what  I  call  the  in- 
Jincere  art  of  pleafing  ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that 
a  true  chrillian,  one  who  thinks  and  afts,  as  far  as  the 
infirmity  of  his  nature  will  permit,  confidently  with  the 
principles  of  his  religion,  poffeffes  qualities  more  ca- 
pable of  pleafing,  than  any  of  thofe  which  are  faid  fo 
eminently  to  have  diftinguifhed  a  Marlborough  and  a 
Bolingbroke.  The  pious  and  amiable  Mr.  Nelibn  feems 
to  me  to  have  deferved  the  epithet  of  all-acccmpliil.ed, 
much  better  than  he  to  whom  it  has  been  fo  often  ap- 
plied ;  and,  if  we  may  judge  by  his  writings,  and  the 
accounts  given  of  his  life,  as,  on  the  one  hand,  there 
never  was  a  better  chri(Uan,  fo,  on  the  other,  there  never 
appeared  a  politer  gentleman.  It  is  evident  that  he  de- 
rived his  art  of  pleafing,  not  from  a  fludy  of  the  world, 
or  pradiiing  the  tricks  of  little  worldlings,  but  from  the 
lovely  qualities  recommended  in  the  gofpel,  and  fiom  an 
imitation  of  the  humble  Jefus.  They  who  ftudy  the  art 
of  pleafing  will  probably  have  recourfe,  as  ufual,  to  the 
many  volumes  written  on  the  fubjeft  in  the  French  lan- 
guage, or  to  the  pcfthumoir  letters  of  afrenchified  tn- 
glifhman  ;  and  perhaps  they  would  fmile  if  an  inllruftor 
were  to  refer  them,  for  the  beft  rules  that  have  ever  been 
given,  to  the  fermon  on  the  Mount. 

It  is  however  certain,  that  the  art  of  pleafing-,  which  is 
founded  on  fincere  principles,  derived  from  religion  and 
morality,  is  as  far  fuperior  to  that  bafe  art  which  confifts 
only  in  fimulation  and  diffimulation,  as  the  fine  bril- 
Jiancy  of  the  real  diamond  excells  the  luftre  of  French 
pafte  ;  or,  as  the  rofeate  hue  on  the  cheek  of  Hebe,  the 
painted  vifage  of  a  haggard  courtezan.  The  infincere 
art  of  pleafing  refembles  the  inferior  fpecies  of  timber 
in  a  building,  which,  in  order  to  pleafe  the  eye,  requires 
the  affiftance  of  paint ;  but  the  art  which  is  founded  en 
fincerity,  is  more  like  that  which  difplays  far  greater 

beauty 


64  ESSAYS,  No.  97. 

beauty  in  the  variety  and  richnefs  of  its  own  native  veins 
and  colour.  A  fhort  time,  or  a  flight  tou.h,  deltroys 
the  fuperficial  beauty  of  one  ;  while  the  other  acquires 
new  graces  from  the  hand  of  time. 

The  rules  and  doctrines  of  morality  and  religion 'tend 
to  correct  all  the  malignant  qualities  of  the  heart;  fuch 
as  envy,  malice,  pride,  and  refentment.  In  doing  this, 
they  cut  oft"  the  very  fource  of  difagreeable  behaviour. 
Morality  and  religion  inculcate  whatever  is  juit,  mild, 
moderate,  candid,  and  benevolent.  In  doing  this,  they 
effectually  promote  a  fyftem  of  manners,  which,  without 
any  finifter  deilgn  in  the  perfon  who  poflefles  them,  can- 
not fail  of  being  agreeable.  If  to  thefe  fubltantial 
powers  of  pleafing  are  added  the  laft  po'ifh  of  a  grace- 
ful deportment,  the  habits  acquired  in  good  company, 
an  acquaintance  with  men  and  manners,  a  tafte  for  pc- 
lite  arts  and  polke  books,  no  other  requifites  will  be 
wanting  to  perfect  the  art.  A  man  will  be  under  no 
neceffity  of  hurting  his  confcience  and  his  character  in 
cultivating,  I  know  not  what,  of  a  deceitful  and  af- 
fected behaviour.  He  may  be  at  once  pleafing  and  re- 
fpectable  ;  and  grow  in  favour  with  men,  without  of- 
fending his  God. 

It  is  one  circumftance  greatly  in  favour  of  that  art  of 
pleafing  which  I  recommend,  that,  even  if  it  mould  not 
always  fucceed  in  pleafing  thofe  with  whom  we  converfe, 
it  will  be  fure  to  pleafe  our  own  hearts  ;  it  will  be  fure 
to  fatisfy  our  confcience  with  a  fenfe  of  rectitude  at  the 
time  we  are  acting  under  its  direction,  and  to  furnim  us 
with  a  tranquil  delight,  unalloyed  by  the  remembrance 
of  treachery  and  meannefs,  on  a  retrofpective  view  o£" 
our  lives  and  couverfauons. 


No.  XCVIII. 


No.  9$.  M  O  R  A  L>    &c» 


No.  XCVIII.  ON  THE  GUILT  OF  INCURRING 
DEBTS,  WITHOUT  EITHER  A  PROSPECT  O& 
AN  INTENTION  OF  PAYMENT. 


AMONG  the  various  devices  which  young  men 
have  invented  to  involve  themfelves  in  difficulties 
and  in  ruin,  none  is  more  frequent  than  that  of  in- 
curring debt  without  any  real  necefllty.  No  fooner 
is  the  afpiring  youth  emancipated  from  his  fchool,  or 
his  guardian  and  fuperintendants,  than  he-  becomes,  in 
his  own  idea,  a  man,  and  not  only  fo,  but  a  man  of 
confequence,  whom  it  behoves  to  drefs  and  make  a 
figure.  To  accomplifli  the  purpofe  of  making  a  figure, 
fome  expenfive  vices  are  to  be  affeded  or  praftifed. 
Bat  as  the  llipends  of  young  men,  juft  entering  into 
life,  are  ufually  inconfiderable,  it  is  neccflary  to  bor- 
row on  the  moft  difadvantageous  terms,  or  to  purchafe 
the  various  requifites  of  a  pleafurab'le  life  on  credit. 
The  debt  fcon  accumulates  from  fmall  beginnings  to> 
a  great  fum.  The  young  adventurer  continues,  while 
his  credit  is  good,  in  the  fame  wild  career;  but  adieu 
to  real  pleafure,  to  improvement,  to  honeft  induflry,  and 
to  a  quiet  mind.  His  peace  is  wounded.  A  perpetual 
load  fet  ms  to  weigh  him  down  ;  and  though  his  feelings 
may,  by  length  of  time  and  habit,  become  too  callous. 
to  be  affected  by  the  mifery  of  his  fituation,  yet  he  is 
loft  to  all  fincere  enjoyment  ;  and  if  he  does  not  fall  a 
victim  of  defpair,  furvives  only  to  gain  a  precarious  ex- 
iftence  at  the  gaming  table,  to  deceive  the  unvvar.,  and 
to  elude  the  refeaiches  of  perfecuting  creditors.  Even, 
if  he  is  enabled,  by  the  death  of  his  parents  or  rich 
relations,  to  pay  the  debts  which  his  youthful  folly  has 
contracted;  yet  has  he  fufFared  long  and  much,  and 
loll  the  beginning  of  life,  the  feafon  of  rational  delight 
and  folid  improvement,  in  diltrefs  and  fears;  in  fabri- 
cating excufes  and  pretences,  and  in  Hying  from  the 
eager  purfaits  of  duns  and  bailiffs. 

But 


C6  ESSAYS,  No.  98. 

But  this  folly,  however  pregnant  with  mifery,  is  en- 
titled to  pity,  and  may,  in  fome  degree,  admit  of  thofe 
ufual  palliations,  youthful  ardour,  and  want  of  experi- 
ence. Thoufands,  and  tens  of  thoufands,  have  ruined 
their  fortunes  and  their  happinefs  by  haftily  running  into 
debt  before  they  knew  the  value  of  money,  or  the  con- 
fequences  of  their  cmbarraftment.  We  pity  their  mif- 
fortune,  but  in  the  firit  part  of  their  progrefs  we  do  not 
ufually  accufe  them  of  difhonefty. 

But  the  habic  of  incurring  debt,  though  in  the  earlier 
periods  of  life  it  may  originate  in  thoughtleflhefs,  com- 
monly leads  to  a  crime  molt  atrocious  in  itfelf,  and 
injurious  to  fociety.  He  who  prayed  againft  poverty, 
kit  he  fliould  be  poor  and  (teal,  understood  human  na- 
ture. Difficulties  and  diftrefles  have  a  natural  tendency 
to  le/Ten  the  reitraints  of  confcience.  The  fortrefs  of 
honour,  when  ftormed  by  that  fort  of  poverty  which  is 
occasioned  by  profligacy,  and  not  defended  with  found 
principles  (fuch  as  men  of  the  world  do  not  often  pof- 
fefs),  has  for  the  molt  part  yielded  at  difcretion.  He 
then  who  began  with  incurring  debt  merely  becaufe  he 
was  ftrongly  fKmulated  by  paffion  or  fancy,  and  was  not 
able  to  pay  for  their  gratification,  proceeds,  when  the 
habit  is  confirmed,  and  the  firlt  fcruples  difmifTed,  to 
contract  debt  wherever  unfufpedting  confidence  will  af- 
ford him  an  opportunity. 

If  he  pofieiTes  titles,  diitinftion,  or  any  kind  of  emi- 
nence, he  will  not  find  it  difficult  to  gain  credit. 
Young  tradefmen,  defirous  of  making  connections,  are 
ready  to  run  any  rifque  ;  and  hope  that,  if  it  is  long 
before  they  receive  their  money,  they  fhall  not  be  with- 
out the  great  man's  patronage  or  recommendation. 
But  here  alfo  they  are  often  deceived  ;  for  the  great 
man  confiders  all  his  creditors  as  his  enemies,  and  ne- 
ver thinks  of  them  but  to  contrive  methods  to  avoid 
and  deceive  them.  If  he  happens  to  receive  any  money, 
he  takes  care  to  expend  it  among  ftrangers,  who  have 
no  other  demand  upon  him  but  for  the  commodity 
which  he  pays  for  at  the  time  of  purchafe.  The  world 
is  wide;  and  when  one  fet  of  credulous  tradefmen  are 
wearied  with  expectation  and  difappointment,  the  great 
man  migrates  to  another  part  of  the  town  or  country, 

aud 


No.  9§.  MORAL,     Sec.  6j 

and  condefcends  to  honour  fome  ambitious,  but  unfor- 
tunate, mortal  with  the  honour  of  dealing  with  him. 
Thus  the  great  man  goes  on  during  the  greater  part  of 
his  life,  and  when  the  creditors  are  importunate,  and 
the  horrors  of  a  gaol  impend,  he  collets  his  property 
and  withdraws  from  the  kingdom,  or  living  in  difguiie, 
enjoys  his  luxuries,  and  laughs  at  his  deluded  tradef- 
men.  Indeed,  as  moft  ill  qualities  go  together,  his 
pride  is  fo  great,  that  he  fcarcely  vouchfafes  to  bellow 
upon  them  a  moment's  confideration. 

But  while  the  builder,  the  draper,  the  taylor,  the 
butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  chandler,  remain  unpaid, 
the  jockey  and  the  horfedealer,  the  miltrefs  and  the  bro- 
ther gamefter,  receive  ready  money  with  oltentatious 
profufion.  Sharpers  and  proftitutes,  with  all  the  quali- 
ties of  thievery,  riot  in  thofe  riches  which  ought  to 
be  paid  to  honeft  men,  who,  with  their  families,  are 
reduced  to  a  ftate  of  ftarving,  by  feeding,  cloa thing, 
and  accommodating  fome  hardened  profligate,  and  ex- 
travagant debauchee.  Who  but  muft  feel  indignation 
when  he  fees  a  man  in  high  life,  as  it  is  called,  eating 
a  joint  of  meat  of  fome  poor  tradefman,  whofe  children 
are  at  the  fame  moment  begging  of  their  parent  a  mor- 
fel  of  bread  ?  Who  fees,  without  lifting  up  his  hands, 
my  Lord,  or  fir  John,  fitting  joyous  at  the  head  of  a 
plentiful  table,  fuppHed,  gratis,  with  every  article,  by 
the  father  of  thofe  children  ? 

Indeed,  the  pride  and  vanity  of  fome  perfons,  who 
value  themfelves  on  their  birth,  or  their  fafhionable 
mode  of  life,  induce  them  to  look  upon  themfelves  as 
a  fuperior  order  of  beings,  and  to  prefume  that  they 
have  a  right  to  be  flill  fupported  by  their  tradefmen  in 
profufion  and  elegance,  even  after  they  are  reduced 
in  their  circumftances  either  by  misfortune  or  mifcon- 
ducl.  If  an  honefl  man  makes  his  demand,  he  is  im- 
pertinent ;  his  infolence  is  not  to  be  borne  ;  he  is 
difmifled  ;  but  not  till  he  evidently  mews  that  he  *ill 
no  longer  fupply  the  commodities  in  which  he  deals. 
On  his  difmilfion,  fome  exception  is  taken  to  his  ac- 
count ;  a  difpute  cnfues,  and  that  difpute  furnifhes  the 
fine  gentleman  or  fine  lady  with  a  pretence  for  not 
paying  the  bill.  In  the  mean  time  card  parties^ 

vifuings» 


53  ESSAYS,  No.  99. 

vifitings,  and  all  fafhionable  pleafures  proceed  as  ufual 
— for  who  would  be  fo  vulgar  as  to  attend  to  the  imper- 
tinence of  the  fcum  of  the  earth,  or  fuffer  one  fafhion- 
able pleafure  to  be  fet  afide  by  the  clamorous  impor- 
tunity of  a  mean  mechanic  j  though  his  meannefs  arifes 
from  his  having  fpent  his  fubftance  in  (applying  the 
perfon  who  dtefpifes  him,  with  the  initruments  of  lux- 
ury, or  the  necefTaries  of  life  ? 

The  profligacy,  the  vanity,  the  unceafing  purfuit  of 
pleafure,  and  thepaffion  for  external  appearance,  which, 
chara&erife  the  prefent  age,  are  neceflarily  productive 
of  expence ;  expences  occafion  diftrefs,  and  diftrefs, 
where  principles  are  deficient,  difhonefly.  No  wonder 
then,  that  in  no  age  have  fharpers,  fwindlers,  and  in- 
folvent  contractors  of  debt,  fo  much  abounded.  There 
is  hardly  any  mode  of  public  life,  efpecially  in  the  me- 
tropolis, in  which  you  can  be  engaged,  without  having 
your  property  expofed  to  the  depredations  of  villains, 
who  have  made  cheating  a  profeiTion,  and  reduced  the 
art  of  robbery  to  a  fyftem. 

"  Many  of  the  perfons  who  live  on  the  fubftance  of 
others,  by  borrowing,  purchafing,  or  employing  with- 
out intending,  and  without  being  able  to  pay,  make  a 
fplendid  figure,  and  pafs  for  gentlemen  and  men  of  ho- 
nour. But  however  they  may  felicitate  themfeves  on 
their  fuccefs,  and  in  the  gratification  of  their  pride  and 
vanity,  I  mall  nothefitate  to  pronounce  them  more  cri- 
minal and  deteftable  than  highwaymen  and  houiebreak- 
ers,  becaufe,  to  the  crime  of  a6lual  theft,  they  add  a 
moll  ungenerous  breach  of  confidence. 


No.  CXIX.  CURSORY  REMARKS  ON  THE 
LIFE,  STYLE,  GENIUS,  AND  WRITINGS  OF 
PETRARCH. 


ONE  of  t'efirft  and  brighteft  luminaries  which  ap- 
peared   in    the  literary  horizon,  after  a  long  and 
difm?J  night,'  was  the  illufcrous  Francefco  Petrarch.    He 
was  born  at  Arezzo  as  he  informs  us  himfelf,  though 

Yoffius 


No.  99.  MORAL,      &c.  6> 

Voffius  denies  it.  He  became  archdeacon  of  Parma, 
and  canon  of  the  cathedral  church  of  Padua,  and  might 
have  arrived  at  the  higheft  preferments  which  the  popes 
can  beftow,  if  he  had  not  difdained  fome  difhoneft  and 
humiliating  compliances. 

To  form  an  adequate  idea  of  the  merit  of  the  writers 
who  arrived  at  excellence  in  the  dawn  of  literature,  it  is 
neceflary  to  confider,  with  attention,  thofe  peculiar  cir- 
cumitances  which  rendered  even  a  mediocrity  of  learning 
a  difficult  attainment.  Books  were  fcarce,  judicious  in- 
ftru&ors  Hill  more  uncommon,  and  the  powerful  infliga- 
tion  of  cotemporary  models  in  a  great  meafure  deficient. 
Petrarch's  claim  to  entire  originality  is  not  however  uni- 
verfally  allowed.  He  certainly  imitated  Cino  de  Piftoja; 
and  Bayle  fays,  he  itole  many  of  his  fentiments  from  him. 
Dante,  indeed,  preceded  Petrarch,  but  I  do  not  find  that 
he  made  Dante  his  model.  With  real  difficulties  and 
impediments,  and  with  few  circumftances  to  excite  a  fpirit 
of  enterprize,  fufficiently  ardent  and  perfevering  to  fur- 
mount  the  very  formidable  obftacles,  it  is  really  wonder- 
ful that  any  individual  could  afcend,  by  his  own  efforts, 
the  eminent  heights  of  iuperior  excellence. 

Such,  however,  was  the  native  force  of  Petrarch's  ge- 
nius, that  in  the  middle  of  an  unenlightened  age  he 
became  celebrated  throughout  the  civilized  nations  of 
Europe  as  an  orator,  philofopher,  and  poet. 

His  poetical  fame  is,  indeed,  the  moil  diitinguimed. 
Formed  with  the  fineft  fenfibility  of  foul,  he  had  the  pecu- 
liar felicity  of  being  born  in  a  country  whofe  language  is 
the  language  of  love.  The  ardour,  the  cor.ftancy,  and  the 
romantic  nature  of  his  paffion,  rendered  him  univerfally 
popular  in  an  amorous  and  romantic  age.  In  our  own 
country  he  became  the  pattern  of  one  ofour  earlieft  poets, 
Henry  Howard  earl  of  Surrey.  And,  amiclft  all  the  dif- 
advantnges  of  a  Northern  and  Gothic  language*  the 
Engiifn  poet  has  celebrated  his  lovely  Geraloine,  in 
Itrains  which  are  faid,  by  fome,  to  difplay  more  of  the 
genuine  tcndcrnefs  of  nature,  than  thofe  in  which  the 
great  Italian  iung  his  Laura. 

"  In  the  ion  nets  of  Surrey,"  fays  Mr.  Warton,  "  \ve 
are  furprifed  to  find  nothing  of  the;  inetafJiyfical  caft 
which  marks  the  Italian  poets,  hid  fuppcled  matters, 

efpecially 


70  ESSAYS,  No.  99. 

efpecially  Petrarch.  Surrey's  fentiments  are  for  the  moll 
part  natural  and  unaffected,  arifing  from  his  own  feel- 
ings, and  dictated  by  the  prefent  circumftances.  His 
poetry  is  alike  unembarrafled  by  learned  allufions  or  ela- 
borate conceits.  If  our  author  copies  Petrarch,  it  is  Pe- 
trach's  better  manner, when  he  defcends  from  his  Platonic 
abilraflions,  his  refinements  ofpafiion,  his  exaggerated 
compliments,  and  his  play  upon  oppofite  fentiments,  into 
a  track  of  tendernefs,  fimplicity  and  nature.  Petrarch 
would  have  been  a  better  poet  had  he  been  a  worfe  fcholar. 
Yet,  upon  the  whole,  I  mould  as  foon  think  of  preferring 
Surrey  to  Petrarch,  as  of  peferring  a  Gothic  country 
church  to  a  Grecian  temple. 

It  is  certainly  true,  that  feveral  of  the  poets  who  have 
devoted  themfelves  to  the  defcription  of  the  tender  paf- 
fion,  have  fhewn  that  they  really  did  not  always  feel  it  in 
its  greateft  flrength  and  purity  while  they  wrote.  The 
love  which  nature  infpires  does  not  diftate  antithesis, 
point,  conceit,"  and  witticifm.  But  Ovid,  the  poet  of 
Love,  abounds  with  thefe  even  in  his  moft  impaffioned 
verfe.  Cowley's  miftrefs  is  by  no  means  replete  with 
the  language  of  paflion.  I  know  not  that  even  the 
gentle  Waller  exprefles  the  fentiments  which  a  tender 
and  ardent  lover  feels  and  utters.  Hammond  has  writ- 
ten like  one  who  was  but  little  fmitten  with  the  tender 
paflion.  Petrarch  alfo,  has  often  addreffed  his  verfes  to 
the  undemanding,  when  they  mould  have  been  directed 
to  the  feelings  ;  has  endeavoured  to  pleafe  the  imagina- 
tion with  an  oppofition  of  images,  when  all  his  (kill 
mould  have  been  exerted  in  caufing  the  nerves  to  vi- 
biate  at  the  touch  of  fympathy.  The  mind  of  the 
reader  is  difappointed,  when,  inftead  of  the  fimple  ex- 
preffions  of  nature  he  finds  the  fubtilty  of  art ;  nor  does 
he  allow  ingenuity  on  the  fubjedl  of  love  to  be  a  com- 
penfation  for  pathos. 

It  has  been  faid  his  diclion  is  obfcure.  The  want 
of  perfpicuity  arifes  chiefly  from  his  having  adopt- 
ed a  great  many  terms  in  the  provincial  language, 
which,  fince  his  time,  has  ceafed  to  be  colloquial  in 
Italy,  though  it  has  been  preferved  by  the  poets  in 
imitation  of  their  matter.  The  admiffion  of  antiquat- 
ed exprcffions  is  allowed  by  the  belt  judges  to  be  an 
5  exquifuc 


No.  99.  MORA   L,    &c.  71 

exquifite  mode  of  adding  a  dignity  to  compo/ition.  It 
has  been  prefcribed  by  the  beft  critics,  and  praftifed  by 
the  beft  writers.  And,  with  refpeft  to  the  obfcurity  it 
may  occafion,  the  fault  is  in  the  reader.  Poetry  has  a 
language  of  its  own.  For  the  fake  of  elevation  it  is  con- 
ftrained  to  feek  a  didion  remote  from  convcrfation  or  fa- 
miliar profe.  He  who  reads  and  criticifes  poetry,  ought 
to  be  acquainted  with  its  peculiar  and  idiomatic  language. 
Homer,  Virgil,  Milton,  wrote  in  a  diction  which  will  not 
be  underftood  by  him  who  has  been  folely  converfant  in 
the  profaic  writings  of  their  feveral  languages.  This,  in- 
deed, may  be  juftly  faid,  that  the  dignity  of  the  epopcea 
may  require  this  method  of  contracting  a  venerable  air, 
much  more  than  the  humbler  ftrains  of  the  plaintive  in- 
amorato. If  any  part  of  Petrarch's  obfcurity  arifes  from 
the  confufion  of  his  ideas,  or  his  perplexed  method  of 
exprefling  them,  no  veneration  for  his  name  muft  pro- 
tect, him  from  cenfure.  Indeed  feveral  very  able  critics 
have  complained,  that  they  could  not  underftand  him 
without  an  interpreter. 

Enough  of  his  meaning  and  of  his  beauties  has  been 
underftood  by  his  own  countrymen,  to  give  him  the 
title  of  the  Father  of  the  Tufcan  poetry.  The  claflkal 
excellence  of  his  language  has  contributed  to  give  a 
name  to  the  century  in  which  he  lived  ;  for  the  Italians 
call  it  the  good  age  cf  their  language,  and  attribute  the 
happy  effect  in  a  great  meafure  to  Petrarch.  Sweet, 
indeed,  are  the  greater  part  of  his  fonnets,  fweet  their 
language,  and  fweet  their  fentiments.  Though  criti- 
cifm  may  point  our  quaintne/Tes  and  unnatural  conceits, 
may  cenfure  one  part  as  metaphyfica!,  and  another  as 
affected,  yet  the  fenfible  reader  will  not  judge  by 
parts,  but  by  the  whole  effect  of  an  entire  piece  ;  and 
if  his  feelings  have  been  often  finely  touched,  and  his 
imagination  delighted,  he  will  give  himfelf  up  to  the 
magic  of  the  poet,  and  joining  in  the  general  applauf*, 
leave  the  cold  critic  to  whifper  his  detraction  difre- 
garded. 

The  love-verfes  of  many  writers  cannot  be  recom- 
mended without  danger.  But  the  fort  of  love  which 
Petrarch  felt,  fuppofing  the  object  a  proper  one,  refines 
and  ennobles  humanity.  It  is  a  fpecics  of  paffion  which 


72  ESSAYS,  No.  99. 

was  never  felt  in  the  flighted  degree  by  the  modern  de- 
bauchee. It  partakes  ibmething  of  the  nature  of  real 
devotion,  and  while  it  elevates  human  nature  in  idea,  it 
contributes  fomething  to  its  real  exaltation.  Chaiiity 
•was  the  virtue  of  the  age  in  which  romantic  love  pre- 
vailed, and  one  virtue  is  allied  to  all.  The  age  was  vir- 
tuous, in  comparifon  with  thofe  times  in  which  love  is 
degraded  to  its  loweft  fpecies,  and  even  the  philofo- 
phers  endeavour  to  reduce  man  to  the  humiliating  con- 
dition of  a  mere  animal. 

But  Petrarch  is  not  to  be  considered  only  as  an  Italian 
poet.  He  wrote  Latin  poetry  with  great  reputation  ; 
and,  indeed,  during  his  life,  fecms  to  have  acquired 
more  honour  from  that,  than  from  his  vernacular  pro- 
<hiclions.  It  was  for  his  Africa  that  he  was  crowned 
with  laurel  in  the  capital  of  Rome.  This  work  was  a 
kind  of  heroic  poem  in  honour  of  Scipio  Africanus, 
whofe  name,  fays  he,  I  know  not  how,  was  dear  to  me 
from  the  earlift  age. 

His  Africa  is  acknowledged  to  be  an  imperfeft  work. 
It  had  not  the  laft  hand  of  its  great  author.  But  it 
abounds  with  hiftorical  matter,  and  with  the  fidlions  of 
poetry.  The  hand  of  a  mailer  is  vifible.  The  poetical 
£re  fometimes  burns  with  genuine  heat  and  light.  Yet, 
upon  the  whole,  it  is  a  work  more  confpicuous  for 
tjenius  than  judgment,  and  wants  that  polifli  which 
a  better  age  wou'd  certainly  have  beftowed.  Had 
Petrarch  written  nothing  but  Latin  poetry,  he  would 
have  poiTeffed  but  a  fubordinate  place  in  the  temple  of 
fame. 

The  profe  works  of  Petrarch  are  x'oluminous.  He, 
indeed,  is  honoured  with  the  name  of  the  reftorer  of 
the  Latin  language.  Great  was  his  merit  in  recalling 
a  language  which  had  almoft  funk  into  oblivion  ;  yet,  I 
think,  it  had  been  fortunate  for  the  reputation  of  Pe- 
trarch if  he  had  wiitten  all  his  works  in  his  native  lan- 
guage, which  he  pofTefled  in  peifeftion,  and  which  had 
arrived,  under  the  management  of  him  and  his  cotem- 
porary,  at  the  ftandard  of  claflic  elegance  Though  he 
writes  with  fpirit,  and  abounds  with  ftriking  and  folid 
fentiments,  and  difplays  no  inconfiderable  mare  of 
learning,  yet  he  cannot  be  called  a  good  Latin  writer, 

His 


No.  99;  •  MORA   1 ,    Arc.  73 

His  ftyle  is  harfh  and  uncouth  ;  his  fentences  rugged  and 
unpolifhed.  There  is  a  fingularity  of  manner  which  iets 
him  at  a  remote  diftance  from  the  clafllcs,  and  proves 
that  he  infpefted  their  works  rather  for  their  matter  than 
their  mode  of  treating  it.  There  is,  however,  a  native 
force  and  vivacity,  which  would  have  conftituted  dif- 
tinguifhed  excellence,  if  the  writer  had  condefcended  to 
have  become  an  imitator  of  the  antients.  An  affec^a- 
tion  of  originality  has  often  fpoiled  an  ingenious  work, 
by  rendering  it  quaint  and  difguftful.  The  greateft 
beauty  of  his  profaic  writings,  and  a  very  valuable  ex- 
cellence it  muft  be  efteemed,  is  the  great  and  ferious  re- 
gard which  he  pays  to  piety  and  morality,  and  that 
fpirit  of  philofophy,  which,  though  of  a  melancholy 
kind,  is  jurt  and  folid. 

A  reader  is  doubly  pleafed  when  he  can  turn  from  the 
works  of  a  diilinguifhed  writer,  to  his  life,  with  equal  com- 
placency. In  the  life  of  Petrarch  we  find  a  noble  and  fu- 
blime  fpirit,  which  induced  him  to  prefer  his  mufe,  his 
love,  and  his  independence,  to  the  favour  of  a  papal  de- 
fpot.  It  is,  indeed,  ihe  glorious  privilege  of  genius  to 
feek  and  to  find  its  happinefs  from  its  own  refources. 
Emboldened  by  the  confcioufnefs  of  its  own  ftrength,  and 
feeling  an  indignatidn  at  many  of  the  changes  andchances 
of  this  world,  it  is  apt  to  fpurn  at  worthlefs  grandeur, 
and  to  defpife  thofe  whom  the  multitude  adores. 

Human  nature  muft  always  have  an  object  fufpended 
in  its  view.  The  lovely  Laura  was  the  objedl  of  Pe- 
trarch. The  paiTion  was  romantic  ;  the  idea  of  her  ex- 
cellence imaginary  ;  but  it  had  a  happy  influence  on  the 
poet's  mind.  It  called  forth  the  latent  fire  of  his  genius, 
it  exercifed  his  fine  fancy  ;  and  though  the  poet  pours 
his  plaintive  verfe  in  Itrains  which  affedl  our  fympathy, 
yet  we  are  by  no  means  to  confider  him  as  unhappy. 
For  it  is  a  truth  collected  from  long  obfervation  on  hu- 
man nature,  that  the  pleafure  of  the  chace  confifts  in 
the  purfuit,  not  in  the  attainment ;  and  that  it  is  often 
better  to  expect  than  to  enjoy. 

I  believe  it  is  not  on  record,  that  the  paffion  of  Pe- 
trarch was  criminally  gratified.  It  is  generally  thought 
that  it  began  and  terminated  in  imagination.  But  yet  it 
is  impoffible  not  to  lament,  that  the  objedl  of  the  poet's 
fanciful  idolatry  was  one  on  which  he'tould  not  inno- 
cently place  hia  afie&ions. 

VOL.  II.  E  Xo.  C 


74  ESSAYS,  No.  100. 


No.    C.       ON     THE    FOLLY    AND    WICKEDNESS 
OF    WAR. 


TH  E  calamities  attendant  on  a  ftate  of  war,  feem 
to  have  prevented  the  mind  of  man  from  viewing 
it  in  the  light  of  an  abfurdity,  and  an  objecl  of  ridicule 
as  well  as  pity.  But  if  we  could  fuppofe  a  fuperior 
Being  capable  of  beholding  us,  miferable  mortals,  with- 
out compaflion,  there  is,  I  think,  very  little  doubt  but 
the  variety  of  military  manoeuvres  and  formalities,  the 
pride,  pomp,  and  circumflance  of  war,  and  all  the  in- 
genious contrivances  for  the  glorious  purpofes  of  mutual 
deftruftion,  "which  feem  to  conftitute  the  bufinefs  of  many 
whole  kingdoms,  would  furnifh  him  with  an  entertain- 
ment like  that  which  is  received  by  us  from  the  exhibi- 
tion of  a  farce  or  a  puppct-ftiow.  But,  notwithstanding 
the  ridkuloufnefs  of  all  thefe  folemnities,  we,  alas  !  are 
doomed  to  feel  that  they  are  no  farce,  but  the  conco- 
mitant circumihnces  of  a  mollwofiil  tragedy. 

The  caufes  of  war  are  for  the'rhoft  part  fuch  as  muft 
difgrace  an  animal  pretending  to  rationality.  Two 
poor  mortals,  elevated -with  the  diltinftion  of  a  golden 
bauble  on  their  heads,  called  a  croWn,  take  offence  at 
each  other,  without  any'reafcn,  or  with  the  very  bad 
one  of  -wiihing  for  an  opp6rtunity  of  aggrandizing 
themfelves  by  making  reciprocal  depredations.  The 
creatures  of  the  court,  '  and  the  leadi-ng  men  of  the 
nation,  who  arc  ufually  under  the  influence  of  the  court, 
refolve  (for  it  is  their  interelt)  to  fupport  their  royal 
mafler,  and  are  never  at  'a'  lofs  to  invent  fome  colour- 
able pretence  for  engaging  the  nation  in  the  honors  of 
war.  Taxes  of  the  moil  burthenfome  kind  are  levied, 
foldiers  are  collected,  fo  as  to  leave  a  paucity  of  huf- 
handmen,  reviews  and  encampments  fucceed,  and  at  laft 
fifteen  or  twenty  thoufand  men  meet  on  a  plain,  ani 
coolly  fhed  each  other's  blood,  without  the  i'rnalleit  per- 
fonal  animofity,  or  the  ftuidow  of  a  provocation.  The 

kings, 


No.  100.  MORAL,     Sec.  75 

kings,  in  the  mean  time,  and  the  grandees,  who  have 
employed  thefe  poor  innocent  vidlims  to  (hoot  bullets  at  . 
each  others  heads,  remain  quietly  at  home,  and  amufe 
themfelves,  in  the  intervals  of  balls,  hunting  fchemes 
and  pleafures  of  every  fpecies  ;  with  reading  at  the 
fire-fide,  and  over  a  cup  of  chocolate,  the  difpatches 
from  the  'irmy,  and  the  news  in  the  Extraordinary 
Gazette.  Old  Horace  very  truly  obferves,  that  what- 
ever mad  frolicks  enter  into  the  heads  of  kings,  it  is 
the  common  people,  that  is,  the  honeft  artizan,  and 
the  induftrious  tribes  in  the  middle  ranks,  unoffendid 
and  unoffending,  who  chiefly  fufFer  in  the  evil  confe- 
quences.  If  the  king  of  FrufTia  were  not  at  the  head  of 
fome  of  the  beft  troops"  in  the  univerfe,  he  would  be 
judged  more  worthy  of  being  tried,  call  and  condemned 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  than  any  (hedder  of  blood  who  ever 
died  by  a  halter.  But  he  is  a  king ;  but  he  is  a  hero ;  — 
thcfe  names  fafcinate  us,  and  we  enrol  the  butcher  of 
mankind  among  their  benefactors. 

When  one  confiders  the  dreadful  circumftances  that 
attend  even  victories,  one  cannot  help  being  a  little 
(hocked  at  the  exultation  which  they  occafion.  I  have 
often  thought  it  would  be  a  laughable  fcene,  if  there 
\vere  not  a  little  too  much  of  the  melancholy  in  it, 
when  a  circle  of  eager  politicians  have  met  to  congra- 
tulate each  other  on  a  piece  of  good  news  juft  arrived. 
Every  eye  fparkles  with  delight ;  every  voice  is  raifed 
in  announcing  the  happy  event.  And  what  is  the 
caufe  of  all  this  joy  ?  and  for  what  are  our  windows 
illuminated,  bonfires  kindled,  bells  rung,  and  feaits 
celebrated  ?  We  have  had  a  fuccefsful  engagement. 
We  have  left  a  thoufand  of  the  enemy  dead  on  the 
field  of  battle,  and  only  nine  hundred  of  our  country- 
men. Charming  news  '.  it  was  a  glorious  battle  ?  But 
before  you  give  a  loofe  to  your  raptures,  paufe  a  while  ; 
and  conlider,  that  to  every  one  of  thefe  nineteen  hun- 
dred, life  was  no  lefs  fweet  than  it  is  to  you  ;  that  to 
the  far  greater  part  of  them  there  probably  were  wives, 
fathers,  mothers,  fons,  daughters,  fillers,  brothers, 
and  friends,  all  of  whom  are  at  this  moment  bewailing- 
that  event  which  occafions  your  fooliih  and  brutal 
triumph, 

E  2  The 


?6  ESSAYS,  No.  too* 

The  whole  time  of  a  war  ought  to  be  a  time  of  ge- 
neral mourning,  a  mourning  in  the  heart,  a  mourning 
much  more  fmcere  than  on  the  death  of  one  of  thofe 
princes  whofe  accurfed  ambition  is  often  the  fble  caufe  of 
war.  Indeed,  that  a  whole  people  fhould  tamely  fub- 
jijit  to  the  evils  of  war,  becaufe  it  is  the  will  of  a  few 
vain,  felfim,  ignorant,  though  exalted,  individuals,  is  a 
phenomenon  almoft  unaccountable.  But  they  are  led 
away  by  falfe  glory,  by  their  paflions,  by  their  vices. 
They  reflect  not ;  and,  indeed,  if  they  did  reflect,  and 
oppofe,  what  would  avail  the  oppofition  of  unarmed 
myriads  to  the  mandate  of  a  government  fupported  by 
a  ftanding  army  ?  Many  of  the  European  nations  are  en- 
tirely military  ;  war  is  their  trade;  and  when  they  have 
no  employment  at  home,  or  near  it,  they  blufh  not  to 
let  themfelves  out  to  fhed  any  blood,  in  any  caufe  of 
the  beft  paymafter.  Ye  beafts  of  the  foreft,  no  longer 
allow  that  man  is  your  fuperior,  while  there  is  found  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  fuch  degeneracy  i 

Morality  and  religion  forbid  svar  in  its  motives,  con- 
duct, and  confequences ;  but  to  many  rulers  and  po- 
tentates morality  and  religion  appear  as  the  inventions 
of  politicians  to  facilitate  fubordination.  The  princi- 
pal objects  of  crowned  heads,  and  their  minions,  are 
the  extenfion  of  empire,  the  augmentation  of  a  revenue, 
or  the  annihilation  of  their  fubjects  liberty.  Their  re- 
ilraints  in  the  purfuit  of  thefe  objects  are  not  thofe  of 
morality  and  religion  ;  but  folely  reafons  of  ftate,  and 
political  caution.  Plaufible  words  are  ufed,  but  they 
are  only  ufed  to  hide  the  deformity  of  the  real  princi- 
ples. Wherever  a  war  is  deemed  defirable  in  an  interefl- 
ed  view,  a  fpecious  pretext  never  yet  remained  unfound. 
.Morality  is  as  little  conlidered  in  the  beginning,  as 
in  the  profecution  of  war.  The  moll  folemn  treaties 
and  engagements  are  violated  by  the  governing  part 
of  the  nation,  with  no  more  fcruple  than  oaths  and 
bonds  are  broken  by  a  cheat  and  a  villain  in  the  walks 
of  private  life.  Does  the  difference  of  rank  and  fituation 
make  any  difference  in  the  atrocity  of  crimes  ?  If 
any,  it  renders  a  thoufand  times  more  criminal  than 
that  of  a  thief,  the  villany  of  them,  who,  by  violating 
«verv  facretl  obligation  between  nation  and  nation, 

giv* 


STo.  iar.  MORAL,    &c.  77 

give  rife  to  miferies  and  mifchiefs  moft  dreadful  in  their 
nature;  and  to  which  no  human  power  can  fay,  thus 
far  lhall  ye  proceed  and  no  farther.  Are  not  the  natural 
and  moral  evils  of  life  fufficient,  but  they  murt  be 
rendered  more  acute,  more  numerous,  and  mere  em- 
bittered b^artificial  means  ?  My  heart  bleeds  over  thofe 
complicated  fcenes  of  woe,  for  which  no  epithet  can 
be  found  fufHciently  defcriptive.  Language  fails  in  la- 
bouring to  exprefs  the  horrors  of  war  amid  private  fa- 
milies, who  are  fo  unfortunate  as  to  be  fuuated  on  the 
feat  of  it. 

War,  however,  it  will  be  faid,  has  always  been  per- 
mitted by  Providence,-.  •  This  is,  indeed,  true;  b-ut  it 
has  been  only  permitted  as  a  fcourge.  Let  a  fpirit  and 
activity  be  exerted  in  regulating  the  morals  of  a  nation, 
equal  to  that  with  which  war,  and  all  itsjapparatus,  are 
attended  to,  and  mankind  will  no  longer  be  fcourged, 
neither  will  it  be  necefiary  to  evacuate  an  empire  of  ics 
members,  for  none  will  be  fuperfluous.  Let  us,  ac- 
cording to  the  advice  of  a  pious  Divine  of  th-e  prci  eng- 
age, think  lefs  of  our  fleets  and  armies,  and  more  of 
our  faith  and  practice.  While  we  are  warriors,  with  all 
our  pretenfions  to  civilization,  we  are  ravages. 


No.  CI.  ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF |NTEMPERATE 
STUDY  ON  THE  HEALTH,  AND  ON  THE 
DUTY  OF  PAYING  REGARD  TO  THE  PRE- 
SERVATION OF  HEALTH. 


THERE  is  in  general  but  little  danger  left  goed 
qualities  and  habits  fhould  be  carried  to  excefs. 
The  moralift  may,  for  the  moft  part,-  recommend  every 
laudable  and   ufeful  pra<3ice,  without  prefcribing  any 
boundaries   to    proficiency.     The    probability   is,    that 
men  will  ftop  on  this  fide,  and  not  that  they  will  go  be- 
yond the  line  of  duty.    But  yet  it  is  certain,  that  there 
are  fome  ingenuous  fpirits,  who,  actuated  by  a  generous 
emulation.   Advance  in  the  purfcit  of  a  favourite  ex- 
E  3  cellence 


?8  ESSAYS,  No.  101. 

cellence  with  fo  immoderate  an  ardour,  and  afliduity  of 
application,  as  at  once  frustrates  their  purpofe,  and  in- 
jures their  abilities. 

As  I  have  then,  on  many  occafions,  recommended  a 
clofe  attention  to  ftudy,  1  think  myfelf  obliged,  by 
motives  of  humanity,  to  fuggeit  a  few  cautions  which 
may  prevent  the  evils  of  an  intemperate  application. 
I  Ihould,  indeed,  greatly  lament,  that  any  thing  I  have 
advanced  in  recommending  to  youth  the  cultivation  of 
the  mincl,  ihould  lead  them  to  neglect  or  injure  that 
body  on  which  the  vigour  of  the  mind  greatly  depends, 
and  which,  if  it  is  disordered,  often  renders  all  other 
means  of  happineis  and  improvement  ineffectual. 

I  am,  indeed,  the  more  inclined  to  enter  on  this 
fubjpct,  as  J  have  feen  very  melancholy  inftances  of 
nervous  difeafes  entirely  occasioned  by  intemperance  in 
iludy,  and  its  necefl'nry  concomitant,  want  of  air  and 
exercife.  Ic  is  one  circumiHnce  peculiarly  unhappy  in 
thefe  mod  unhappy  of  all  difeafes,  that  they  feldom  ad- 
mit of  cure,  and  therefore  great  and  early  vigilance 
ihoiild  be  exerted  in  their  prevention. 

A  great  itudent  ought  to  be  particularly  attentive  in 
the  regulation  of  his  diet.  We  Jearn  from  the  writings 
of  phyficians,  that  the  labour  of  the  brain  draws  off 
thofe  fpirits  which  are  neceffary  to  promote  digeilion. 
The  leall  and  the  lighteft  food  under  which  we  can 
poffibly  be  eafy,  according  to  the  advice  of  the 
celebrated  Cheney,  is  particularly  proper  for  the 
fludent.  Such  a  diet  will  not  only  render  the  fpirits 
cheerful,  and  invigorate  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
but  enable  us  to  enjoy  health  with  but  a  fmall  fhare  of 
•xercife. 

Exercife,  however,  is  to  be  taken  on  every  opportu- 
nity. But  a  folitary  walk  or  ride,  merely  for  the  fake 
of  exercife,  and  with  no  other  object  to  ftimulate  our 
progrefs,  as  it  is  of  all  amufements  the  dulleil,  fo  it  is 
found  rather  hurtful  than  advantageous.  The  mind 
flill  meditates  in  folitude,  and  the  body  at  the  fame 
time  labours ;  fo  that  both  are  exhaulled  at  once,  and 
the  ftudent  returns  to  his  clofet  fatigued,  dejected,  and 
difappointed.  Some  little  amufement  mult  therefore 
be  contrived,  or  feme  bufmefs  engaged  in,  which  may 

operate 


No.  101.  M  O  Kf  A  L,    &c.  79 

operate  as  a  loadftone  in  attracting  us,  without  being 
fenfible  of  our  own  efforts,  frprn  our  libraries,  up  the 
mountain,  and  along  the  foreft,  where  health,  with  all 
her  thousand  joys,  delights  to  fix  her  abode.  A  few 
cheerful  companions  in  our  walks  will  render  them 
abundantly  more  healthful ;  for,  according  to  the  an- 
tient  adage,  they  will  ferve  inftead  of  a  carriage,  or,  in 
other  words,  prevent  the  fenfation  of  fatigue. 

Deje&ion  of  fpirits  is  a  certain  confequence  of  intem- 
perate ftudy  ;  but  dejedtion  of  fpirits,  long  continued, 
cannot  confift  with  health.  After  a  morning  fpent  in  a 
clofer  application  than  common,  it  will  often  be  right 
to  devote  the  reft  of  the  day  to  good  company,  and 
innocent  pleafures.  Mufic  is  one  of  thofe  pleafures, 
and  the  molt  delightful  foother  of  the  wearied  mind. 
The  heart  dances  at  the  found  of  the  lyre  ;  frefli  fpirits 
animate  .the  veins ;  the  clouds  of  dejection  are  ditfipated, 
and  the  foul  fliincs  out  once  more  like  the  fun  after  a 
mi/1,  in  the  blue  expanfe  of  aether. 

Nocturnal  ftudies,  too  long  and  too  clofely  continued, 
feldom  fail  to  injure  the  eyes,  and  together  with  them, 
the  whole  nervous  fyftem.  They  who  are  impelled  by 
neceffity  to  work  by  night  and  by  day,  mult  indeed  fub- 
mit  with  patience  to  their  deftiny;  but  that  he  who  is 
malter  of  his  time,  mould  chain  hiirfelf  down  to  a  more 
exhaufting  toil  than  the  labour  of  the  galley- flave,  is  a 
fpecies  of  folly  approaching  to  infanity.  And,  indeed, 
I  know  of  nothing  more  likely  to  pfdduce  madnefs  than 
intemperate  ftudy,  with  want  of  exercife,  want  of  air, 
and  want  of  fieep.  It  will,  after  all,  be  but  a  poor  com- 
fort, to  have  gone  through  a  whole  library,  and  to  have 
loft  our  eyes  and  our  fenfes  in  the  courfe  of  the  labo- 
rious progrefs. 

Every  man  of  fenfe  will  make  life  of  all  the  known 
methods  of  fecuring  his  health,  were  it  merely  on 
felfilh  motives,  and  for  the  fake  of  preferving  his 
faculties  and  prolonging  his  life.  But,  omitting  all 
felfifh  regards,  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  an  attention 
to  the  prefervation  of  health  is  an  impoitant  duty. 
I  do  not  recollect  that  it  has  often  been  recommended  . 
as  a  duty.  But  fmce  our  health  is  greatly  in  o.ir  own 
power  i  fmce  we  all  enter  into  the  world  to  engage  in 
E  4  many 


«o  ESSAYS,  No.  iei. 

many  aftive  and  necelTary  employments,  and  fince  the 
want  of  health  will  render  us  incapable  of  them,  I  can- 
not help  thinking,  that  the  care  of  our  health  may  be 
numbered  among  the  duties  of  indifpenfable  obligation. 
A  found  constitution  of  body  is  a  bleffing  of  heaven ; 
and  not  to  beitow  the  utmoft  vigilance  in  preferving  a 
pearl  of  fo  ineflimable  a  price,  is  a  contempt  of  the 
gift,  an  infuh  on  the  Giver,  and  a  fpecies  of  impious 
ingratitude. 

Ir  is  commonly  faid,  that  he  who  wants  the  advice  of 
phyficians  in  the  regulation  of  his  ufual  diet,  after  the 
age  cf  thirty,  wants  alfo  underftanding;  a  defeft  which 
no  phyfician  can  fupply.  It  is  indeed  certain,  that, 
at  the  age  of  thirty,  a  fufficient  degree  ef  experience 
cf  what  may  be  agreeable  or  difagreeable  to  the  confti- 
turion  IT: ay  have  been  collected.  But,  alas  !  few  of  us 
;ire  willing  to  do  all  that  we  arc  able ;  few  of  us  are 
fo  attentive,  in  die  i-ril  pouion  of -life,  to  the  animal 
irconorny,  as  to  remark  with  accuracy  the  caufes  cf 
thofe  flight  indifpofitions  which  are  occafioned  by  ac- 
cidental excefs  in  the  gay  and  thoughtlefs  hours  of 
convivial  enjoyment.  We  fubmit  to  them,  however 
they  may  undermine  the  conilitucion,  from  friendly  and 
benevolent  motives.  We  art  apt  to  think,  that  it 
would  be  too  felfifh  to  refufe  to  partake  of  the  enjoy- 
ments of  others  merely  to  preferve  our  own  health.  The 
rniunight  aflembiy  and  the  luxurious  banquet  are  often 
lefs  fought  for  their  own  fakes,  than  from  good  nature 
and  a  focial  difpofition.  But,  perhaps,  if  we  confidered 
that  we  are  not  taking  care  of  ourfelves  merely  on  our 
own  account,  but  for  others,  for  our  parents  and  our 
children,  for  our  friends  and  for  the  public,  we  mould 
rot  deem  a  fcrupulous  regard  to  health,  though  it  may 
lead  us  to  avoid  the  feaft  and  the  revel,  either  ungene- 
rous or  unfocial.  It  would  appear  in  the  light  of  a  very 
ferious  duty,  derived  from  an  obedience  to  the  will  of 
heaven,  and  from  the  regard  we  owe  to  our  neighbour ; 
and  we  mould  be  obliged  to  confefs,  that  the  nominal 
pleafures  of  excefs  ought  always  to  give  place  to  real 
duty. 

A  fcrupulous  regard  to  health  is,  indeed,  a  duty 
incumbent  on  all  j  but,  perhaps,  more  particularly 

to 


No.  102.  tiT  CT  £  A  L,    &c.  8 1 

to  be  attended  to  by  the  learned  and  ingenious,  us  they 
are  of  all  the  moft  fubjed  to  indifpofition.  A  delicate 
frame  is  very  often  affociated  with  a  ftrong  intellect  ; 
and  a  life  of  ftudy,  though  a  life  of  labour,  is  not 
adapted,  like  that  of  the  manual  labourer,  to  give 
elaiticity  to  the  nerves,  or  vigour  to  the  animal  functions. 
But  exceffive  eating,  added  to  exceflive  ftudy,  mull  wear 
the  machine  much  more  than  the  fubftance  of  which  it 
is  conftituted  can  long  endure.  If  it  is  not  foon  brokea 
in  pieces,  its  wheels  will  be  clogged,  its  fprings  broken,, 
and  the  whole  rendered  ufelefs  and  bnrthenfome.  It  is 
recorded  of  Mr.  Pope,  that  he  was  an  immoderate  eater, 
that  he  kept  a  filver  faucepan  to  drefs  dainties  for  him- 
felf  in  the  intervals  of  his  meals,  and  that  he  died  of  a 
faucepan  of  lampreys. 

Whatever  part  of  the  fyflem  of  human  affairs  we  exa- 
mine, one  truth  appears  to  pervade  the  whole  compli- 
cated mafs,  which  is,  that  there  can  be  neither  wildom 
nor  happinefs,  nor  even  enjoyment  of  the  fubordinate 
kinds,  independently  of  moderation.  In  the  moil  re- 
fined and  elevated  part  of  our  conduct  and  purfuits, 
the  fame  truth  is  no  lefs  vifible,  than  In  the  lower  occu- 
pations of  common  life.  Sweet  are  the  pleafures  of  con. 
templation,  delightful  the  exercife  of  the  mind  in 
reading  and  reflection  ;  but  no  pleafure,  however  pure, 
muft  be  invariably  purfued,  till  we  are  removed  into  the 
world  of  fpirits,  and  are  enabled  to  enjoy  intellectual 
delights  unalloyed  and  uninterrupted. 


NO.    CII.       ON"    THE    PRESENT    STATE    OF 
CONVERSATION. 


F  •  ^  H  E  R  E  is,  perhaps,  no  method  of  improving  the 
j^  mind  more  efficacious,  and  certainly  none  mon* 
agreeable,  than  a  mutual  interchange  of  fentiments  in 
an  elegant  and  animated  converfaiion  with  the  ferious, 
the  judicious,  the  learned,  and  the  communicative. 
Light  and  heat  are  elicited  by  the  collifion  of  minds. 
Truths  which  appeared  dull  in  the  folitude  of  the  rtudy, 


8z  ESSAYS,  No.  102. 

are  no  fooner  agitated  in  converfation,  than  they  affeSt 
the  mind  with  the  livelieft  impreffions.  And  it  is  one 
circumltance  which,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  recommends 
the  mode  of  improvement  by  mutual  difcourfe,  that  the 
focial  affeclions  are  no  lefs  powerfully  exerted  and 
exercifed,  than  the  powers  of  reafon.  By  the  difplay  of 
both,  the  heart  and  the  underltanding  are  at  once 
improved. 

Such  would  be  the  defcription  of  him  who  mould  de- 
rive his  ideas  tin  the  fubjeft  from  a  chofen  few,  or  from 
his  books.  But  let  him  confider  converfation  as  it  really 
appears  in  the  living  world,  independently  of  theoreti- 
cal and  fpeculative  refinement,  and  I  fear,  that,  inflead 
of  finding  it  always  attended  with  improvement,  it  will 
often  appear  to  him  a  fertile  fource  of  corruption  and 
degeneracy. 

A  young  man  who  has  juft  left  his  fchool,  full  of  the 
ideas  which  the  poets,  philofophers,  and  hiflorians  of 
antiquity  fupply,  will  probably  bid  adieu  to  them  all 
at  the  fame  time  that  he  takes  leave  of  his  matter  ;  unlefs, 
indeed,  his  own  choice  mould  lead  him  to  cultivate  an 
acquaintance  wiili  them  in  private.  Suppofe  him  to 
pals  from  the  fchool  to  an  univerfity.  There,  if  he  has 
fpirir,  he  will  of  courfe  feck  the  company,  and  imitate 
the  manner?,  of  thcie  who  poflefs  a  like  fpirit,  and  who 
are  alib  celebrated  as  men  of  fafhion.  The  converfation 
will  therefore  turn  upon  the  fubjecl  of  horfes,  dogs,  drink- 
ing-, dreffing,  debauchery,  of  cajoling  the  old  gentleman 
at  home  out  of  his  money  to  be  fpent  in  thefe  laudable 
pqrpofes,  or  of  running  in  debt  with  credulous  and  un- 
fortunate tradefmen.  Such  will  he  the  fublime  contem- 
plations, and  the  philofephical  topics  of  difcourfe  in  the 
famed  academic  groves  on  the  banks  of  the  Cam  and 
the  Ifis,  and  in  the  fchools  of  fcience  and  theology. 
Even  doftors,  prcfeftbrs,  tutors,  and  lecturers,  induftri- 
oufly  avoid  all  topics  conne&ed  with  the  fpecies  of 
learning  and  fcience  which  they  profefs,  and  in  eft 
agreeably  condefccnd  to  expatiate,  in  the  common  and 
combination  room,  on  dogs,  horfes,  and  all  the  re- 
fineJ  amuion-cnts  of  Granta  and  Rhedycina.  Not 
b'Jt  that  there  are  a  few  who  take  a  pleahire  in  con- 
verfing  on  letters ;  but  they  are  folitary  mortals,  ar;d 

thetnfelves.  . 


No.  102.  MORAL,    &c.  8j 

themfelves  are  ftigmatized,  in  the  cant  language  of  the 
place,  with  the  name  of  Quizzes,  and  their  converfa- 
tion,  with  that  of  an  infufterable  Sore. 

If  our  ingenious  youth  fhould  be  tranfplanted  from 
the  nurfery  of  a  fchool  into  the  army,  he  will  find  the 
converfation,  in  almoft  every  refpedl,  iimilar  to  that  of 
the  iiniverfity.  There  will,  indeed,  be  this  difference, 
that  as  letters  are  not  the  particular  bufinefs  of  a  mili- 
tary life,  they  will  fometimes  be  the  topic  of  converfa- 
tion among  military  men  ;  whereas,  in  the  univerfity, 
they  are  entirely  laid  afide,  left  they  mould  fubjett  the 
academic  to  the  imputation  of  pedantry  ;  an  imputation 
deemed  infinitely  more  difgraceful,  than  that  of  genteel 
ignorance  and  famionable  debauchery. 

Should  he  be  introduced  into  the  fociety  of  nobles 
and  legiilators,  he  will  ftill  find  dogs  and  horfes,  with 
all  their  concomitant  fports  and  amufements,  the  fa- 
vourite topics,gf  difcourfe.  Literature  would  be  voted 
dulnefs  ;  morality,  preaching;  philofophy,  nonfenfe  ; 
and  religion,  hypocrify.  ,-£Jis  Plato  and  his  Tully  will 
avail  him  little  at  the  Cockpit,  at  a  horfe-race,  at  a 
gaming-table,  in  the  ftud,  and  the  dog-kennel.  Such 
places  are  the  uiual  reforts  of  the  fpirited  and  fafhion- 
able  part  of  very  great  men  ;  of  thofe,  whom  the  young, 
allured  by  the  brilliancy  of  their  career,  .would  be  moft 
likely  to  follow. 

Let  him  proceed  in  his  enquiry  after  this  refined  and 
elegant  converfation,  and  frequent,  according  to  the 
ufual  intercourfe  of  neighbourhood,  the  houfes  of  the 
rich,  the  refpe&able,  and  fafhionable,  in  private  life. 
They  mall  be  perfons  of  fenfc  and  virtue,  and  yet  no- 
thing mall  pafs  in  their  converfation  from  which  any 
of  the  boaited  advantages  of  it  mall  be  perceived.  For 
what,  indeed,  are  the  methods  of  paffing  time,  among 
perfons  of  the  bed  repute  and  genteeleil  condition, 
while  they  think  it  indifpenfably  neceflary  to  move  in 
the  vortex  of  famion  ?  Nothing  grave,  nothing  abftrufe, 
nothing  fpeculative  ;  no  moral  maxim  or  critical  re- 
mark, would  be  admitted  in  a  polite  circle  of  polite 
vi/itors.  There  is  evidently  an  uneafmefs,  a  filence,  an 
awkwardnefs,  a  vacuity,  till  cards  are  introduced.  It 
is  not  a  harfh  delineation  of  modern  manners  to  afiert, 
E  6  that 


84  ESSAYS,  No.  102. 

that  in  general,  and  even  among  thofe  who  certainly 
have  a  right  to  efteem,  there  appears  to  be  no  tafte  for 
any  thing  that  deferves  the  name  of  refined  and  ingeni- 
ous convetfation.  The  time  of  a  vifu  is  for  the  moft 
part  fpent  in  repeating  the  doubtful  news  of  the  day; 
in  mere  chat  without  confequence  or  connection  ;  in 
eating,  drinking,  and  crowning  the  whole  with  whift 
and  quadrille.  All  this  may  be  very  innocent  and 
pleafant  as  a  relaxation  ;  and  the  only  point  I  maintain 
is,  that  the  fpecies  of  converfation  from  which  improve- 
ment is  to  be  derived,  is  not  often  found  in  the  prefent 
fyftem  of  vifiting  and  converfing. 

I  know  not  whether  our  youth,  were  he  to  feek  the 
fociety  of  men  in  the  profeffions,  would  be  certain  of 
finding  that  fort  of  converfe,  from  which,  philofophers 
inform  us,  fo  much  moral  and  intellectual  improvement 
is  received.  It  is,  I  think,  remarked  by  fome  one  who 
went  into  the  company  of  the  clergy  at  one  of  their 
feails,  in  hopes  of  finding  among  them,,  that  elegance 
and  philofophical  fpirit  of  converfe  which  he  had  in 
vain  fought  among  others,  that  nothing  was  talked  of 
with  any  apparent  animation,  but  the  flavour  of  the 
venifon,  the  fine  relilTi  of  the  hams,  the  richnefs  of  the 
pye-cruil,  and  the  excellence  of  the  claret.  Thefe, 
indeed,  caufed  the  moft  cordial  congratulations;  and 
thefe,  interrupted  only  by  the  conjectures  on  the  next 
vacancies  in  livings,  ftalls,.  and  mitres,  conftituted  the 
whole  of  the  difcourfe  in  a  fympofium  confining  of  the 
inftru&ors  of  mankind.  If  fuch  be  the  cafe,  we  are  not 
to  wonder  that  the  fublimer  fort  of  converfation  is  rarely 
to  be  found  in  the  common  ranks,  who  are  often  too 
deficient  in  education,  to  be  able  to  interchange  their 
fentiments  with  any  considerable  advantage  to  the  mind 
or  the  morals. 

It  is  faid,  that  a  celebrated  wit  had  fought  the  com- 
pany of  Addifon  with  uncommon  folicitude,  and  with  a 
hope  of  being  delighted  with  that  fine  humour  which  is 
fo  confpicuous  in  his  writings  ;  but  that  Addifon  did  not 
talk,  though  he  paid  it  off  in  drinking,  which  he  did 
fo  intern perately,  that  nature  was  obliged  to  throw 
off"  her  load  ;  upon  which  circumftance  the  vifitor,  on 
his  departure,  remarked,  that  no  good  thing  had  come 

out 


No.  102.  MORAL,     &c.  8; 

out  of  his  month  that  night  but  the  wine.  Let  it,  how- 
ever, be  remembered  by  thole  who  bring  fuch  inflances 
in  their  own  juftification,  that  the  caufe  of  Addifon's 
taciturnity  was,  a  natural  diffidence  in  the  company  of 
Grangers,  to  difmifs  which  he  took  his  glafs  more  freely 
than  he  might  otherwife  have  done  ;  and  that,  among 
a  chofen  few,  his  converfation  was  at  once  improving 
and  delightful. 

In  fome  circles  it  is  poflible  to  be  a  very  excellent 
companion  without  uttering  a  fingle  fentiment,  or  a 
fingle  word  more  than  is  neceflary  to  repeat  the  toalh 
In  thefe,  indeed,  the  wit  of  a  Swift,  the  humour  of  a 
Quin,  and  the  fine  philofophical  fpirit  of  an  Addifon, 
would  not  be  deemed  half  fo  agreeable  as  the  good- 
natured  eafe  of  him  who  counts  no  hours,  but  fiier.tly 
fits  and  inhales  and  exhales,  through  a  tube  cf  clay, 
the  fmoke  of  tobacco.  If  fuch  perfons  are  philofophers, 
one  might  guefs  from  their  taciturnity,  that  they  are  the 
difciples  of  Pythagoras. 

In  the  lower  ranks  of  mankind  we  muft  not  expeft 
refinement.  Liberal  and  ingenious  ideas -muft  have 
been  collected  by  reading,  before  converfation  can  be 
advanced  ta  the  perfection  of  which  it  is  capable.  Wo 
readily  therefore  pardon  thofe  defects  which  could  not 
eafily  have  been  fiipplied.  We  are  not  furprifed  at 
ribaldry,  noife,  and  nonfenfe,  in  the  fociety  of  the 
vulgar,  and  of  thofe  who  feek  relief  from  bo-ily  la- 
bour,  in  coasfc  mirth,  and  unfelecled  fociety.  But  that 
perfons  who  have  improved  their  reafon,  and  who  have 
leifure  for  all  the  refinements  of  intellectual  pleafure, 
ihould  neglect  the  means  of  fo  much  advantage  and 
fatisfadtion  as  might  be  derived  from  converfation  pro- 
perly concluded,  is  an  additional  inftance  of  our  folly,. 
in  difregarding  the  moil  obvious  means  of  improving 
our  happinefs  and  our  condition. 

I  know  it  may  be  faid,  that,  as  relaxation  is  often 
tLe  principal  object  of  our  mutual  intercourfe,  to  render 
converfation  a  itudy,  and  the  effect  of  care  and  medita- 
tion, is  to  defeat  its  purpofe.  But  let  it  be  remem- 
bered, that  the  improvements  in  converfation'  which  I 
recommend,  contribute  no  lefs  to  encreafe  the  pleafure 
than  the  advantage  of  it.  I  recommend  no  iUfrnefs, 

S  BO 


86  ESSAYS,  No.  103. 

no  improper  folemnity,  or  difagreeable  formality;  but 
eafe,  elegance,  politenefs,  united  with  fenfe,  tafte,  learn- 
ing, and  with  a  communicative  difpofition.  Cards  are 
not  difapproved  in  general ;  nothing,  however  light, 
while  it  is  innocent,  is  totally  prohibited  ;  and  all  that 
I  contend  for  is,  that,  where  ci  re  um  fiances  admit,  and 
in  a  proper  alternation,  literature,  the  fine  arts,  natu- 
ral and  moral  philofophy,  hiitory,  and  whatever  exer- 
cifes  the  better  powers  of  the  underftanding,  (hould  con- 
tribute to  fill  up  the  many  hours  which  we  ufually  fpend 
in  company,  Thefe  things  would  often  preclude  infi- 
pidity,  fcandal,  gaming,  and  intemperance.  Such  would 
be  their  valuable  effects  confidered  only  negatively.  But 
they  would  do  more,  they  tvould  exalt  and  refine  the 
human  mind,  and  would  prove,  what  man  fo  often 
boalts  without  exhibiting  fufticient  proofs  of  it,  that  he 
is  an  animal  not  only  focial,  but  rational. 


No.    CIII.       ON    GOODNESS    OF    HEART. 


WHOEVER  has  made  accurate  obfervations  on 
men  and  manners,  will  eafily  perceive,  that  the 
praife  of  goodnefs  cf  heart  is  ufually  accompanied  with 
an  oblique  infmuation  of" intellectual  imbecility.  I  be- 
lieve him  to  be  a  well-meaning  man,  fays  the  malignant 
panegyrift,  and  if  there  is  any  fault  in  him,  it  will  be 
found  rather  in  his  head  than  in  his  heart.  Nothing 
could  be  better  contrived  by  a  crafty  and  envious  world, 
to  render  this  amiable  quality  contemptible,  than  to  re- 
prefent  it  as  ihe  effect,  or  as  the  companion  of  folly. 

It  is,  indeed,  true,  that  innocence  and  integrity  are 
ufually  accompanied  with  fimplicity  ;  not,  however, 
with  that  fort  of  fimplicity  which  is  fometimes  fynony- 
mous  with  folly  ;  but  with  an  amiable  opennefs  of 
manners,  which  had  rather"  lofe  its  objects,  than  obtain 
them  by  deceit ;  which  leads  the  tongue  boldly  to  fpealc, 
what  the  heart  honeftly  conceives.  If  we  weigh  the 
fati&factions  of  an  open  and  upright  conduct,  of  a  clear 

conference, 


No.  ioj.  MORAL,     &c.  87 

confcience,  and  of  that  liberty  which  we  enjoy  by  think- 
ing, fpeaking,  and  adling,  without  mean  and  fervile  rc- 
ftraints,  it  will,  I  believe,  be  found,  that  this  fimplicity 
is  true  wifdom,  and  that  the  cunning  of  the  worldly  wife 
is  real  and  egregious  imprudence. 

Goodnefs  of  heart,  whether  it  be  a  natural  or  acquired 
goodnefs,  is,  indeed,  in  every  refpeft,  the  higheft  wifdom. 
It  is  the  only  quality  which  can  refcue  human  nature 
from  the  difgrace  and  mifery  of  its  wretched  weakneffes, 
and  its  powerful  tendencies  to  evil.  It  raifes  the  poor 
worm,  that  otherwife  crawls  on  a  dunghill,  and  ftings 
and  bites  his  wretched  companions,  to  an  exalted  place 
in  the  fcale  of  being,  and  caufes  him  to  affimilate  with 
the  divine  nature. 

I  (hall  exhibit  to  my'youthful  readers,  whofe  hearts  are 
yet  fufceptible  of  whatever  bias  they  chufe  to  give  them, 
two  characters  :  in  one  of  which  appeared  goodnefs  of 
heart,  and  in  the  other,  worldly  wifdom  or  cunning,  or 
the  art  of  pleafing  for  the  fake  of  profit.  Jf  any  one 
ftiould  hefitate  in  chufmg  whether  of  the  two  fhall  be 
his  model,  he  need  not  hefitate  at  beginning  a  reforma- 
tion of  himfelf,  for  he  may  depend  upon  it,  that  his  own 
heart  (lands  greatly  in  need  of  amendment. 

Serpens  (for  fuch  let  us  fuppofe  to  be  his  name)  has 
perfuaded  himfelf  that  he  fees  farther  into  things  than 
the  reft  of  his  fpecies.  He  confiders  religion  as  prieft- 
craft,  morality  as  the  invention  of  politicians,  and  tafte 
and  literature  as  the  amufements  of  fools.  His  philo- 
fophy,  and  all  his  better  purfuits  and  ideas,  are  circum- 
fcribed  within  limits  extremely  narrow.  Pleafure  and 
intereft  are  his  chief  good,  his  only  objeds  of  ferious 
purfuit ;  and  in  the  attainment  of  thefe  he  is  not  fcru- 
puloufly  delicate.  There  is,  indeed,  no  virtue  or  good 
quality,  the  appearance  of  which  he  does  not  aflume ; 
becaufe,  while  mankind  are  weak  enough  to  judge  and 
cfteem  men  according  to  moral  and  religious  prejudices, 
a  platifible  appearance  is  eflentially  neceflary  to  fuccefs 
in  life.  External  decency  is  his  higheft  aim.  Since- 
rity or  found  principles  would  but  retard  his  purpofes. 
Compaflion  he  never  felt,  and  is  equally  a  ftranger  to  love 
and  friendfliip,  though  he  is  always  prbfeiling  them  to 

perfons 


2*  .ESSAYS,  No.  103. 

perfons  of  fortune  and  diftinftion,  whom  he  idolizes  with 
jel'gious  adoration  ;  and  this  is  the  only  fentiment  which 
he  feels,  bordering  upon  religion. 

By  a  life  fpent  in  abject  fervility,  in  courting  a  ca- 
pricious world,  in  deceiving  the  credulous,  in  contriv- 
ing fchemes  of  advantage  or  pleafure,  and  in  hardening 
his  conference,  he  has  at  laft,  in  his  fiftieth  year,  ob- 
tained fome  promotion,  and  accumulated  a  handfome 
furn  of  rnoney.  But  he  cannot  enjoy  it  now  he  is  pof- 
fefted  of  it.  The  fame  greedy  feliifnnefs  which  taught 
him  to  debafe  his  foul  in  purfuing  intereil  and  private 
gratification,  fliil  operates  on  his  conduct,  and  renders 
him  a  complete  mifer.  Though  he  has  long  enjoyed  a 
competency,  he  never  had  fpirit  enough  to  marry. 
He  was  afraid  of  the  expence.  He  hates  his  relations, 
becaufe  he  thinks  they  expect  his  fortune  at  his  deceafe. 
He  has  made  no  real  friends,  though  he  has  deceived 
thoufands  by  profelfing  friendlhip  for  the  ealier  accom- 
plilhment  of  his  dirty  defigns.  All  the  neighbours 
deleft  him;*  and  he  envies  every  one  of  them  who  ap- 
pears to  be  happier  than  hlmfelf,  which  indeed  they 
all  do  ;  for  his  heart  is  torn  with  malignity,  with  fears, 
anxieties,  and  covetoufnefs.  He  bears,  however,  the 
character  of  a  fhrewd  and  fenfible  man,  one  who  knows 
the  world,  and  learned,  at  an  eatriy  age,  to  make  it  his 
bubble.  His  advice  is  confide  red  as  an  oracle  in  ail 
pecuniary  bufmefs,  and  no  attorney  would  be  half  fo 
much  confulted,  if  he  did  hot  render  himfelf  almofl 
inacceffible  by  the  morofenefs  of  his  temper.  As  in  his 
youth,  he  was  all  fubmiffion  and  gentlenefs,  and  per- 
fedly  fkilled  in  the  celebrated  art  of  pleating  ;  fo  now, 
when  the  mafque  is  no  longer  neceiTary,  his  natural 
difpofition  breaks  out  in  all  its  horrid  deformity.  But 
the  mifery  which  he  occafions  to  all  around  him,  falls 
upon  himfelf,  by  the  jult  retribution  of  Providenc<-, 
The  heart,  which  has  been  the  receptacle  of  every  vice 
and  every  meannefs,  is  always  the  feat  of  ur.eafy  fen- 
fation.  The  ftupid  infenfibiiity  with  refpect  to  the  finer 
feelings,  which  ufually  characterizes  that  fort  of  ilirewd 
men,  who  are  celebrated  in  the  world  as  men  who  knew 
things  fo  ivf/I,  may,  indeed,  guard  then;  from  pungent 

affliction  ; 


No.  103.  M    O   R  'A    L,    &c.  «a 

affliction  ;  but  it  is  itfelf  a  curfe  raofl  devoutly  to  be  de- 
precated. 

Simplicius  was  the  fon  of  parents  remarkable  for  the 
piety  and  regularity  of  their  lives.  He  received  a  libe- 
ral education  in  its  moft  comprehenfive  form,  and  found 
every  moral  initruction  which  he  derived  from  books, 
and  from  his  preceptor,  confirmed  by  example  at  home. 
Ail  his  delicate  fenfibiliues  were  gradually  nurfed  to  a 
(late  of  perfection  by  the  innocence  and  temperance  of 
his  life  ;  by  the  piety  and  virtue  of  his  family,  in  which 
fuch  refpect  was  paid  to  him  while  a  boy,  that  not  a 
word  that  could  convey  a  loofe  or  improper  idea  was 
tver  uttered  in  his  prefence.  He  married  early,  and 
obeyedcthe  dictates  of  his  heart  in  felecting  a  moft 
anv.able  woman  of  beauty,  fenfe,  and  temper,  but  oF 
little  c,-  ivj  fortune.  The  ihrcvvd  and  wife  men  of  the 
world  laughed  and  pitied.  Simplicius,  however,  had 
never  any  reafon  to  repent.  His  children  are  his  chief 
delight;  but  he  loves  his  friends  with  fincere  and  un- 
alterable affection  ;  and  there  is  no  fpecies  of  diftrefs 
which  he  does  not  pity  and  relieve  to  the  bell  of  hi* 
power.  The  amiablenefs  of  his  manners,  and  the  re- 
gularity of  his  conduct,  gavedvim  the  advantage  of  cha- 
racter, the  want  of  which  can  feldom  be  fupplied  by  any 
worldly  policy.  With  this  powerful  recommendation  he 
has  made  his  way  to  eminence,  and  enjoys  his  fuccefs 
with  the  trueit  relifh.  It  is,  indeed,  unembittered  by 
any  reflection  of  finifter  modes  of  fecuring  it.  He  al- 
ways proceeded  in  the  ftrait  road  of  common  fenfe  and 
•  common  honefty.  He  knew  of  no  obliquities ;  for,  in- 
deed, he  found  the  art  of  life  very  plain  and  eafy,  and  by 
no  means  fuch  as  requires  the  precepts  of  a  Machiavel. 
His  heart  and  his  underilanding  are  both  excellent ;  and 
co-operating  with  each  ot^her,  have  conducted  him  to 
happinefs  through  the  flowery  paths  of  innocence.  Hi» 
heart  has  been  a  perpetual  fpring  of  agreeable  fenfa- 
tions  to  himfelf,  and  to  all  who  were  fo  fortunate  as  to 
be  allied  to  him  by  kindred,  by  affinity,  "-by  acquaint- 
ance, or  in  the  courfe  of  his  negociations,  A  good 
conference  will  caufe  the  evening  of  life  to  clofo  in  the 
fweeteft  ferenity,  as  the  day  has  been  dittinguilhed  by 
4inclouded  funfhinc. 

Whatever 


fo  ESSAYS,  No.  104. 

Whatever  the  fhort-fighted  votaries  of  avarice  and 
ambition  may  aflert,  there  is  no  doubt,  but  that  real 
goodnefs  of  heart  is  the  nobleft  ornament  of  human 
nature,  and  the  lead  fallible  fource  of  permanent  fatif- 
faflion.  I  have  often  therefore  lamented,  that  in  the 
courfe  of  what  is  called  a  liberal  education,  very  little 
attention  has  been  paid  at  our  beft  fchools  to  the  culture 
of  the  heart.  While  good  feeds  have  been  fown  in  the 
underftanding,  the  heart  has  been  fuffered  to  be  overrun 
with  weeds  and  briars.  In  truth,  learning  and  abili- 
ties, without  goodnefs  of  heart,  conftitute  that  kind  of 
wifdom  which  is  foolifhnefs  in  the  fight  of  reafon  and 
of  God.  Without  goodnefs  of  heart,  man,  however 
accomplilhed,  is  fo  far  from  being  but  a  little  lower  ' 
than  the  angels,  that  he  is  fcarcely  above  the  acc.urfed 
fpirits,  and  by  no  means  equal  to  many  of  the  Brutes, 
who  often  exhibit  moft  amiable  inftances  of  a  good 
heart  in  the  virtues  of  gratitude,  fmcere  affeftion,  and  I 
fidelity. 


No.      CIV.         ON'— -THE      CHARACTERS     OF 
THEOPHRASTUS. 


F  portraits  of  the  antient  Athenians,  painted  from 
the  life  by   the  artifts  of  the   times,  had  defcended 


to  the  prefent  age,  they  would  have  attracted  univerfal  . 
notice,  and  have  been  juftly  ccnfidered  as  invaluable.  1 
The  productions,  however,  of  the  pencil  are  not  proof 
againft  the  corrofions  of  time ;  but  though  we  have  no 
original  pictures  of  the  perfons  of  the  antient  Athe- 
nians, we  have  admirable  {ketches  of  their  minds  deli- 
neated by  Theophraftus.  I  do  not  mean  deferiptions  of 
heroes,  philofophers,  or  poets.  They  are  to  be  found 
in  the  writings  of  the  hiflorian.  Theophraftus  has  taken 
his  pictures  from  private  and  common  life;  from  per- 
fons too  obfcure  to  adorn  the  page  of  hiftory,  but  who 
conflitute  fubjefts  well  adapted  to  the  purpofe  of  him 
who  ftudies  the  anatomy  of  human  nature.  It  is,  indeed, 
extremely  curious  and  amuling  to  difcover  ftrokes  of 

character 


No.  104.          MORAL,      fee.  <jt 

character  in  the  citizens  of  Athens,  who  lived  above 
two  tlioufand  years  ago,  exaftly  fimilar  to  the  manners 
of  the  prefent  day  as  they  appear  in  London,  and  ia 
other  parts  of  civilized  Europe. 

Theophraflus  entered  on  the  undertaking  of  deline- 
ating the  characters  of  his  countrymen  at  the  age  of 
ninety-nine ;  an  age  at  which  he  had  treafured  up  a 
multitude  of  ideas  from  converfe  and  obfervation.  His 
defign  was  to  Itigmatize  fo'iies,  foibles,  and  little  vices 
rather  than  atrocious  crimes.  He  meant,  as  he  informs 
us  himfelf  in  his  preface,  that  poflerity  mould  learn 
from  the  patterns  which  he  fhould  leave  them,  to  judge 
of  characters  with  accurate  discrimination,  and  to  feleft 
fuch  perfons  for  friendship  and  acquaintance  as  might 
communicate  excellence  equal  to  their  own,  by  exciting 
a  fpirit  of  generous  emulation. 

I  will  tranfcribe  a  fingle  extraft  for  the  amufement  of 
my  reader,  defirirg  him  to  keep  in  his  mind  the  idea, 
that  the  writer  of  the  character,  and  the  perfon  cha- 
racterized, lived  above  three  hundred  years  befo-e  the 
Chriftian  sera.  It  will  alfo  be  proper,  in  order  to  receive 
all  the  pleafure  which  the  perufal  of  Theophraftus  is 
capable  of  affording,  that  the  reader  mould  confider, 
whether  many  features  of  the  character  have  not  fallen, 
under  his  own  obfervation. 

The  following  paffage  is  taken  from  his  fedlion  on  the 
art  of  pleafing;  and  mews,  that  this  boafted  art,  as  it 
is  now  taught,  is  no  modern  difcovery  ;  but  is,  at  all 
times,  the  genuine  offspring  of  meannefs  and  felf- 
intereil. 

*  The  art  of  pleafing,"  fays  he,  "  is  a  kind  of  be- 
tiavionr  in  the  company  of  another,  which  tends,  in- 
deed, to  give  pleafure,  but  not  for  the  bell  of  purpofes. 
The  perfon  who  ftudies  it,  is  fuch  an  one  as,  after 
having  faluted  a  man  a  great  way  off,  and  called  hint 
the  bell  man  in  the  world,  and  admired  him  fufficiently, 
takes  him  by  both  his  hands,  and  will  not  let  him  go; 
but  accompanying  him  a  little  way,  aflcs  when  h». 
Shall  have  the  pleafure  of  feeing  him  again  ;  nor  does 
he  take  leave  after  all  without  a  thoufand  compliments 
and  praifes.  When  he  is  called  in  as  an  arbitrator, 
he  is  not  only  defirous  of  pleafing  the  party  on  whofe 

fide 


*z  ESSAYS,  No.  104, 

fide  he  appears,  bin  the  adverfary  alfo,  that  he  may 
feem  to  be  the  common  friend  of  both.  He  tells  a 
foreign  gentleman,  that  he  really  fpeaks  the  language 
with  a  better  accent  than  the  natives.  When  he  is 
invited  to  dinner,  he  infills  upon  the  gentleman's  letting 
the  little  children  come  in,  and  the  moment  he  fees  them, 
he  declares,  they  are  more  like  their  father  than  one  fig 
is  like  another  ;  and  taking  them  by  the  hand,  he  kifTes 
them,  and  makes  them  fit  next  to  him,  and  plays  with 
them  himfelf,  faying,  here  is  a  little  trinket  for  one, 
and  here  is  a  little  hatchet  for  the  other  -f  and  he  lets- 
them  fall  afleep  on  his  lap,  feeming  to  be  highly  de- 
lighted, though  he  fits  on  thorns  all  the  while.'  He 
fnaves  his  face  very  often  ;  he  keeps  his  teeth  accurately 
clean  ;  lays  afide  his  clothes,  even  while  they  are  good, 
becaufe  the  fafhion  is  changed,  and  takes  care  to  bs 
perfumed  with  the  belt  perfume.  In  all  public  places  he 
is  feen  talking,  or  fitting,  with  the  principal  perfons',&c." 
It  is  not  conliitent  with  my  defign  to  fill  my  paper  with 
citations,  or  it  would  be  eafy  to  produce  many  antient 
pieces  from  this  moral  painter,  xvhich  deferve  to  b* 
highly  efleemed  on  account  of  their  age  and  curiofity. 
The  paintings,  it  mult  be  o\vned,  are  rather  in  the  Fle- 
jnifh  ftyle,  and  many  of  them  partake  of  the  caricatura. 

But  though  I  commend  the  pieces  as  curiofities,  I 
would  by  no  means  be  underftood  to  praife  them  as 
perfect,  or  as  ftauuards  for  imitation.  Whether  they 
have  undergone  mutilation  or  tranfpofitions,  or  whe- 
ther the  author,  in  extreme  old  age,  had  not  fpirits  to 
review  what  he  wrote,  it  is  not  eafy  to  determine  :• 
but  it  is  certain,  that  there  is  often  a  total  want 
ef  connection,  arvd  that  many  ftrokes  are  admitted  nor 
at  all  applicable  to  the  character  to  which  they  are  ap- 
plied. Indeed  it  appears  probable,  that  the  characters 
were  real  ones,  an.d  the  remarks  perfonal.  So  that 
though  the  author  began  with  a  general  foible  or  folly, 
yet,  purfuing  the  model  from  wfeich  he  drew  in  all  its- 
parts,  he  was  led,  by  an  accuratf  delineation  of  the 
whole,  to  fome  particularities  not  at  all  connected  with 
the  predominant  features  of  the  general  character. 

With  refpeft  to  the  ftyle  of  this  little  book,  I  cannot 
diicover  any  beauties  fo  peculiarly  Ariking  as  could 

indue* 


No.  105.  MORA  L,5  &c.  9? 

induce  Ariftotle  to  change  this  author's  name  from 
Tyrtamus  to  that  of  •Theophrailus.  There  were,  how- 
ever, it  is  probable,  in  his  other  works,  fome  very  diftin- 
guifhed  excellencies  of  diclion,  fince  they  procured  him, 
from  one  of  the  beft  critics  whom  the  world  ever  faw,  a 
name,  which  fignified,  that  he  expreffed  himfelf  like  a 
god. Diogenes  Laertius  informs  us,  that  he  wrote  no  fewer 
than  two  hundred  and  twenty  books  ;  :but  fcarcely  any  of 
them  have  efcaped  the  hand  of  envious  time.  The  cha- 
racters, we  may  venture  to  imagine,  are  greatly  muti- 
lated, and  many  of  them  loft.  It  is,  indeed,  fuppofed, 
that  as  in  this  treadle  he  has  reprefented  faults  only,  he 
wrote  another,  in  which  he  prefented  to  the  view  the 
more  amiable  picture  of  virtuous  and  agreeable  charac- 
ters. Very  high  commendations  are  paid  to  his  Treatife 
on  Plants;  but  it  is  but  little  read,  fince  the  great  im- 
provements which  have  been  made  by  the  moderns  in  the 
fcience  of  botany.  Upon  the  whole  of  his  character, 
Cafaubon  appears  to  haw  remarked,  with  jultice,  that 
he  was  worthy  of  that  age  which  produced  the  glorious 
triumvirate,  Socrates,  Plato,  and  Ariitotle. 

Many  commentaries  have  been  written  to  facilitate 
the  reading  of  the  characters ;  but  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing, that  this  is  one  of  the  few  antient  books,  in  the 
illuitration  of  which,  learning  is  lefs  neceffary  than  a 
knowledge  of  the  world.  . 


No.    CV.      ON     SEVERAL     PASSAGES     IN     THE 
ENCHIRIDION,  OR  MANUAL   OF    EPJCTETUS. 


THERE  is  fcarcely  any  of  the  philofophical  feels 
which  has  not  adopted  fome  abfurdity  amidft  a 
great  variety  of  wife  and  valuable  doctrine.  Like  all 
inventors  and  felectors  of  their  own  fyllems,  they  have 
been  hurried  to  excefs,  and  have  difgraced  the  rational 
parts  of  their  philofophy  by  far-fetched  refinements, 
or  by  foolifh  tenets,  which  could  originate  only  in  the 
madnefs  of  enthufiafm.  The  ftoical  fyftem,  beautiful 
-and  noble  as  it  is  in  a  general  view,  abounds  with 

'bleaufhea 


94-  ESSAYS,  No.  105. 

blemimes  which  have  altnoft  rendered  it  contemptible. 
It  may,  indeed,  be  faid,  in  vindication  of  them,  that 
they  have  a  tendency  to  raife  and  ftrengthen  human 
nature;  while  the  errors  of  many  other  fyftems  tend 
only  to  indulge  its  paffions,  and  to  increafe  its  in- 
firmity. 

I  fhall  prefent  my  reader  with  a  few  extracts  from 
the  admirable  Enchiridion  ;  diverting  them  of  the  abfurd 
doctrines,  and  retaining  only  what  is  really  practicable 
and  interefting  to  mankind  at  large,  independently  of 
any  philofophical  fyftem.  The  paflages  are  well  known, 
to  the  learned,  to  whofe  notice  it  would  be  fuperfluous 
to  addrefs  them.  They  are  more  particularly  intended 
for  the  ufe  of  the  young;  and  of  thofe  who,  from  their 
engagements  in  active  or  commercial  life,  have  not1 
time  for  the  ftudy  of  Epictetus.  Readers  of  this  de- 
fcription  will,  I  hope,  find  them  not  only  very  curious 
but  ufeful  fpecimens  of  heathen  wifdom.  I  ihall  tran- 
icribe  the  few  paflages  which  the  limits  of  my  paper  will 
admit,  from  the  tranflation  of  a  lady,  who  has  long 
done  honour  to  her  fex,  and  to  Engliih  literature. 

"  Require  not  things  to  happen  as  you  wifh  ;  but 
wim.  them  to  happen  as  they  do  happen,  and  you  will 
go  on  well. 

"  Remember  that  you  muft  behave  in  life  as  at  an 
entertainment.  Is  any  thing  brought  round  to  you  ? 
Put  out  your  hand  and  take  your  fhare  with  moderation. 
Does  it  pafs  by  you  ?  Do  not  ftcp  it.  Is  it  not  yet 
come?  Do  not  ftretch  forth  your  defire  towards  it,  but 
tvait  till  it  reaches  you.  Thus  "do  with  regard  to  chil- 
dren, to  a  wife,  to  public  polls,  to  riches  ;  and  you  wHl 
be  fome  time  or  other  a  worthy  partner  of  the  fe  alts  of 
the  gods. 

"  Remember  that  you  are  an  actor  in  a  drama,  of 
fuch  kind  as  the  author  pleafes  to  make  it.  If  mort,  of 
a  fhort  one;  if  long,  of  a  long  One.  If  it  be  his  pleafure 
you  fhould  act  a  poor  man,  a  cripple,  a  governor,  or 
a  private  perfon,  fee  that  you  act  it  naturally.  For 
this  is  your  bufinefs,  to  act  well  the  character  afligned 
you.  To  chufe  it,  is  another's. 

"  If  you  have  an  earneft  defire  of  attaining  to  phi- 

lofophy,  prepare   yourielf  from    the   very  firlt   to    be 

i  laughed 


No.  105.  MORAL,     &c.  9$ 

laughed  at,  to  be  fneered  by  the  multitude,  to  hear 
them  fay,  "  he  is  returned  to  us  a  philofopher  all  at 
once,"  and,  "  whence  this  fupercilious  look  ?"  Now, 
for  your  part,  do  not  have  a  fupercilious  look  indeed  ; 
but  ftill  keep  fteadily  to  thofe  things  which  appear  beft 
to  you,  as  one  appointed  by  God  to  this  ftation.  For 
remember,  if  you  adhere  to  the  fame  point,  thofe  very 
perfons  who  at  firft  ridiculed,  will  afterwards  admire 
you  ;  but  if  you  are  conquered  by  them,  you  will 
incur  a  double  ridicule. 

"  When  a  neighbour's  boy  has  had  a  /light  accident, 
broken  a  cup,  for  inftance,  we  are  prefently  ready  to  fay, 
"  Thefe  are  things  that  will  happen."  Be  aflured  then, 
that  when  your  own  cup  likewiie  is  broken,  you  ought 
to  be  affefted  jult  as  when  another's  cup  is  broken. 
Transfer  this  in  like  manner  to  other  things.  Is  the 
child  or  wife  of  another  dead  ?  There  is  no  one  who 
would  not  fay,  f:  This  is  an  accident  to  which  hu- 
man nature  is  liable."  But  if  any  one's  own  child 
happens  to  die,  it  is  prefently,  "  Alas,  how  wretched 
am  I  ?"  But  it  fhould  be  remembered^  how  we  are 
affe&ed  in  hearing  the  fame  thing  concerning  others. 

"  If  a  perfon  had  delivered  up  your  body  to  any  one 
whom  he  had  met  in  the  way,  you  would  certainly  be 
angry.  And  do  you  feel  no  fliame  in  delivering  up 
your  own  mind  to  be  difconcerted  and  confounded  by 
any  one  who  happens  to  give  you  ill  language  ? 

"  Duties  are  univerfally  meafured  by  relations.  Is 
any  one  a  father  ?  Jn  this  are  implied,  as  due,  taking 
care  of  him,  fubmitting  to  him  in  all  things,  patiently 
receiving  his  reproaches,  his  correction.  But  he  is  a 
bad  father.  Is  your  natural  tie  then  to  a  good  father  ? 
No  :  but  to  a  father.  Is  a  brother  unjuft  ?  Well :  pre- 
ferve  your  own  fituation  towards  him  ;  confider  not  what 
he  does,  but  what  you  are  to  do.  iu  this  manner  you 
will  find,  from  the  idea  of  a  neighbour,  a  citizen,  a 
general,  the  correfponding  duties,  if  you  accuftom 
yourfelves  to  contemplate  the  feveral  relations. 

"  It  is  incumbent  on  every  one  to  offer  libations 
and  facrifices  conformably  to  the  cuftoms  of  his  country, 
with  purity,  and  not  in  a  flovenly  manner,  nor  ne- 
gligently, nor  beyond  his  ability. 

"  Immediately 


£6  ESSAYS,  No.  105- 

"  Immediately  prefcribe  fome  character  and  form  of 
behaviour  to  yourfelf,  which  you  may  preferve,  both 
•alone  and  in  company. 

*'  We  mult  not  difcourfe  on  any  of  the  common 
fubjefts,  of  gladiators,  or  horfe-races  or  athletic  cham- 
pions, or  feafts,  the  vulgar  topics  of  converfation;  but 
principally  not  of  men,  fo  as  either  to  blame,  or  praife, 
or  make  comparifons.  If  you  are  able,  by  your  own 
converfation,  bring  over  that  of  your  company  to  proper 
fubjecls ;  but,  if  you  happen  to  be  taken  among  per- 
fons  of  ideas  totally  different  from  yours,  be  filent. 

"  Let  not  your  laughter  be  much,  nor  on  many  oc- 
cafions,  nor  profufe.  Avoid  fwearing,  if  poffible,  al- 
together ;  if  not,  as  far  as  you  are  able. 

"  Avoid  public  and  vulgar  entertainments  :  but,  if 
ever  an  occafion  calls  you  to  them,  keep  your  attention 
upon  the  ftretch,  that  you  may  not  imperceptibly  Hide 
into  vulgar  manners.  For  be  affured,  that  if  a  perfon 
be  ever  fo  found  himfelf,  yet  if  his  companion  be  in- 
feded,  he  who  converfes  with  him  will  be  infe&ed 
like  wife. 

"  Before  marriage  preferve  yourfelf  pure ;  but  da 
not,  therefore,  be  troublefome,  and  full  of  reproofs,  to 
thofe  who  are  licentious,  nor  frequently  boaft  that  you 
yourfelf  are  not. 

*'  If  any  perfon  tells  you,  that  fuch  a  perfon  fpeaks 
ill  of  you,  do  not  make  excufes  about  what  is  faid 
of  you  j  but  anfwer;  "  He  does  not  know  my  other 
faults,  elfe  he  would  not  havermentioned  only  thefe." 

"  In  parties  of  converfation,  avoid  a  frequent  and  ex- 
ceffive  mention  of  your  own  actions  and  dangers ;  for, 
however  agreeable  it  may  be  to  yourfelf  to  mention  the 
rifques  you  have  run,  it  is  noc  equally  agreeable  to 
others  to  hear  your  adventures.  Avoid  likewife  an  en- 
deavour to  excite  laughter;  for  this  is  a  flippery  point, 
which  may  throw  you  into  vulgar  manners ;  and  befides, 
may  be  apt  to  leffen  you  in  the  efteem  of  your  acquaint- 
ance. Approaches  to  indecent  diicourfe  are  likewife 
dangerous.  Whenever,  therefore,  any  thing  of  this  fort 
happens,  if  there  be  a  proper  opportunity,  rebuke  him 
who  makes  advances  that  way;  or,  at  leaft,  by  filence  and 

blufhing. 


No.  105.  MORAL,     Sic.  ~  97 

blufhing,  and  a  forbidding  look,  fliew  yourfelf  dif- 
pleafed  by  fuch  talk. 

"  If  you  are  ftruck  by  the  appearance  of  any  pro- 
mifed  pleafure,  guard  yourfelf  againft  being  hurried 
away  by  it ;  but  let  the  affair  wait  your  leifure,  and  pro- 
cure yourfelf  fome  delay.  Then  bring  to  your  mind 
both  points  of  time  ;  that,  in  which  you  (hall  enjoy  the 
pleafure,  and  that,  in  which  you  will  repent  and  re- 
proach yourfelf,  after  you  have  enjoyed  it :  and  fet  be- 
fore you,  in  oppofition  to  thefe,  how  you  will  rejoice 
and  applaud  yourfelf,  if  you  abftain.  And  even,  though. 
it  mould  appear  to  you  a  feafonable  gratification,  take 
heed,  that  its  enticing,  and  agreeable  and  attractive 
force  may  not  fubdue  you  ;  but  fet  in  oppofition  to 
this,  how  much  better  it  is,  to  be  confcious  of  having 
gained  fo  great  a  victory. 

"  When  you  do  any  thing  from  a  clear  judgment 
that  it  ought  to  be  done,  never  fhun  the  being  feen  to 
do  it,  even  though  the  world  fliould  make  a  wrong  fup- 
pofition  about  it ;  for,  if  you  do  not  act  right,  fhun  the 
aftion  itfelf ;  but  if  you  do,  why  are  you  afraid  of  thofe 
who  cenfure  you  wrongly  ? 

"  If  you  have  affumed  any  character  above  your 
ftrength,  you  have  both  made  an  ill  figure  in  that, 
and  quitted  one  which  you  might  have  fupported. 

"  Women,  from  fourteen  years  old,  are  flattered 
with  the  title  of  miftrefles  by  the  men.  Therefore,  per- 
ceiving that  they  are  regarded  only  as  qualified  to  give 
the  men  pleafure,  they  begin  to  adorn  tliemfelves  ;  and 
in  that  to  place  all  their  hopes.  It  is  worth  while,  there- 
fore, to  fix  our  attention  on  making  them  fenfible  thac 
they  are  efteemed  for  nothing  elfe,  but  the  appearance 
cf  a  decent,  and  modert,  and  difcreet  behaviour. 

"  It  is  a  mark  of  want  of  genius,  to  fpend  much 
time  in  things  relating  to  the  body  ;  as  to  be  long  in 
our  exercifes,  in  eating  and  drinking.  Thefe  mould 
be  done  incidentally  and  flightly ;  and  our  whole  atten- 
tion be  engaged  in  the  care  of  the  undemanding. 

"  Never  call  yourfelf  a  philofcpher,  nqr  talk  a  great 
deal  among  the  unlearned  about  theorems  ;  but  act 
conformably  to  them.  Thus,  at  entertainments,  do  not 
tr.lk  how  perfons  ought  to  eat ;  but  cat  as  you  ought. 

VOL.  II.  F  There 


9«  ESSAYS,  No.  105. 

There  is  great  danger  in  immediately  throwing  o-,:t 
what  you  have  not  digefted.  And  if  any  one  tci;.-  you, 
that  you  know  nothing,  and  you  are  not  nettled  at  it, 
then  you  may  be  fure  that  you  have  bepnn  your  buunrfs. 

"  Sheep  do  not  produce  the  graft,  to  fh»w  how  much 
they  have  eaten  ;  but,  inwardly  digefling  their  food, 
they  outwardly  produce  wool  and  ml' ^  Thus,  there- 
fore, do  you  likewife  not  ihew  theorems  to  the  lin- 
learned,  but  the  aclions  produced  by  them,  after  they 
have  been  digefted. 

"  The  condition  and  chara&eriftic  of  a  vulgar  perfon 
are,  that  he  never  expeds  either  benefit  or  hurt  from 
hirnfelf ;  but  f.om  externals  I'he  condition  and  cha- 
rafterillic  of  a  philofopher  are,  that  he  expects  all  hurt 
and  benefit  fiom  himieif. 

'"  Whatever  rules  \v-a  have  deliberately  propofed  to 
yonrfeif  for  the  conduct  nf  life,  abide  by  them  as  fo 
many  laws,  and  as  if  you  would  be  guilty  of  impiety  in 
tranigrefl>ngany  of  them  ;  and  do  not  regard  what  any  one 
fays  of  you,  for  this,  after  all,  is  \o  concern  of  yours. 
How  long  will  you  defer  to  tnink  y<  iirftlf  wortr.y  of 
the  nob!eil  imp.*,  vemenrs,  and  in  no  inltance  to  tninf- 
grefs  the  diiunctjons  of  reafon  ?  You  ore  no  longer  a 
boy,  but  a  grown  man.  If,  therefore,  you  will  be  ne- 
gligent and  flothful,  and  always  add  procrnftination  to 
procraftination,  purpofe  to  purpofe,  and  fix  day  after 
day  in  which  you  will  attend  to  yourielf,  you  will  in- 
fenfibly  continue  without  proficiency;  and  living  and 
dying,  perfevere  in  being  onf  of  the  vulgar.  This  in- 
ftant  then,  think  yourielf  worthy  of  living  as  a  man 
grown  up,  and  a  proficient.  Ler  whatever  appears  to 
be  the  beft,  be  to  you  an  inviolable  law.  And  if  any 
inrtance  of  pain  or  pleafure,  or  glory  or  difgrace,  be 
fet  before  you,  remember  that  now  is  the  comdat,  now 
the  olympiad  comes  on,  nor  can  it  be  put  erf;  and  that, 
by  once  being  worftcd  and  giving  way,  proficiency  is 
loft;  or,  by  the  contrary,  preferved.  Thus  Socrates 
became  perfecl,  improving  himfelf  by  every  thing,  at- 
tenuing  to  nothing  but  reafon  And,  though  you  are 
no.t  yet  a  Socrates,  you  ought,  however.,  to  live  as  one 
defirous  of  becoming  a  Socrates 

«'  Upon  all  occasions  we  ought  to  have  this  faying 

of 


No.  106.'  MORA  L,    &Ci  99 


of  Socrates  at  hand,  "  O  Crito,  if  it  thus  pleafes  the 
gods,  thus  let  it  be  !  Anytus  and  Melitus  may  kill  me 
indeed,  but  hurt  me  they  cannot." 

The  conferences  of  Epiflecus,  from  which,  indeed, 
the  manual  is  in  great  meafure  collected,  quaint  as  they 
appear,  abound  with  pithy  remarks  ;  fuch  as  fuggeit 
much  more  to  the  mind  of  arefleSing  reader,  than  meets 
the  ear.  The  gold,  however,  as  it  happens  in  the  richelfc 
mines,  is  furrounded  with  much  drofs.  The  uncouth 
manner  in  which  the  conferences  appear  in  a  tranfla- 
tion,  however  excellent,  has  deterred  many  from  per- 
ufing  them,  who  would  have  found  th'eir  perfeveranca 
amply  rewarded.  I  cannot,  therefore,  help  wiping, 
for  the  fake  of  liberal  ana  lludious  young  men,  thru  all 
the  valuable  matter  were  extracted,  and  prdented  to 
their  view,  with  accuracy  ;  but,  at  the  Tame  tii:ie,  with 
all  the  ornaments  of  an  elegant  and  flowing  diction.  I 
fhould,  indeed,  think  it  an  excellent  mode  of  improving 
the  minds  and  morals  of  thu:t;  who  :.re  in  :h»  ccurie 
of  their  education,  if  fome  one  paflage,  like  thofe  cited 
above,  were  fele&ed  as  a  text  or  fubjedt  on  which  the 
preceptor  might  expatiate.  For,  next  to  the  fcriptures 
themfelves,  the  writings  of  the  ftoics  cqntribute  moft  to 
raife  and  refcue  human  nature  from  the  humiliation  and 
wretchednefs  into  which  it  is  prone  to  fall,  by  natural 
degeneracy,  inherent  weaknefs,  and  acquired  corrup- 
tion. They  operate  on  the  mind  like  thofe  medicines 
on  the  body  which  are  called  bracers,  cr  corroboratives, 
and  furely  that  philofophy  ought  to  be  encouraged  by 
every  moralilt  and  ftatefman,  which  adds  nerves  to  vir- 
tue, and  gives  liability  to  empire. 


NO.  CVI.     ON  SWEETNESS  AND  DELICACY  OF 
STYLE. 


AS  there  is  in  fbme  flowers  an  exqtiifite  fcenr,  and  in 
fome  fruits  a  delicious  flavour,  tore:-prefs   \,.iLh 
no  language  has  a  name  ;   10  there  u  .,  cm     . 

*'  2  and 


l»o  ESSAYS,  No.  106. 

and  a  delicacy  which  eludes  defcription,  and  can  only 
be  perceived  by  the  fenfibility  of  tafte. 

But  though  it  may  be  difficult  to  analyfe  this  agreeable 
quality,  or  to  teach  a  writer  how  to  infufe  it  into  his 
works,  yet  it  is  by  no  means  equally  arduous  to  point 
out  a  few  authors,  in  whom  both  the  obfervations  of 
others,  and  our  own  feelings,  have  difcovered  it.  This, 
indeed,  is  the  only  method  of  communicating  it;  and 
though  it  is  not  to  be  taught  by  didadic  and  formal 
precepts,  it  may  be  acquired  by  the  contagious  influence 
of  a  captivating  example. 

Swcetnefs  is  chiefly  to  be  found  in  Lyric  poetry  ;  but 
is  by  no  means  confined  to  it.  Though  Voflius  is  of 
opinion,  that  fweetnefs  is  peculiar  to  Lyric,  as  gravity 
to  the  epic,  Simplicity  to  the  paftoral,  foftnefs  to  the 
elegiac,  jocularity  to  the  comic,  pathos  to  the  tragic, 
bitternefs  to  the  fatyric,  and  pungency  to  the  epigram- 
matic ;  yet  I  rather  think,  that  they  all  admit,  on  fome 
occafions,  fomething  of  this  captivating  quality.  Homer, 
who  will  furnifh  models  of  every  ftyle,  often  mixes, 
among  his  ruder  beauties,  a  delicate  fweetnefs  of  di&ioo, 
•which,  befidesits  own  inherent  power  of  pleafmg,  embel- 
limes  all  the  rougher  parts  by  the  power  of  contraft. 

Theocritus  is  «11  fweetnefs ;  and  if  a  reader,  with  a 
good  ear,  ihooM  not  underftand  the  bard  of  Syracufe, 
he  might  lull  be  delighted  with  the  delicious  honey  of 
the  doric  dialed, 

Many  of  the  little,  but  elegant,  compofitions  in  the 
anthologize,  owe  all  their  excellence  to  the  feleftion  of 
words,  which  convey  enchanting  mufic  to  the  ear. 
They  feem,  indeed,  to  trickle  like  liquid  honey  from 
the  honeycomb,  and  this  without  any  affe&ation  in 
the  writers  ;  for  fuch  are  the  peculiar  beauties  of  the 
Greek  language,  that  it  is  difficult  to  write  on  fubjefts 
connected  with  pleafure,  love,  and  beauty,  without 
ufing  fuch  expreflions  as,  befides  their  real  meaning., 
excite  an  idea  of  fweetnefs,  fimilar  to  the  objects  re- 
prefented. 

Sweetnefs  is  the  peculiar  excellence  of  the  joyous 
bard  of  Teos.  The  bacchanalian  fongs  of  modern 
times  partake  very  little  of  thofe  delicate  charms  which 
diftinguifh  a  ftyle  truly  anacreontic.  It  does  not  indeed 

appear, 


No.  106.  MORAL,     &c.  toi 

appear,  that  the  modern  bacchanals  have  thought  it 
poffible  that  their  joys  mould  admit  of  delicacy.  The 
fongs,  therefore,  which  have  been  written  to  enliven 
and  itimulate  their  mirth,  have  ufually  been  of  acoarfer 
kind,  and  fuch  as  necefTarily  excluded  fweetnefs  of  com- 
pofition.  They  feem  to  have  confidered  a  Bacchus  as 
lie  is  rudely  reprefented  on  a  fign-poft,  and  not  as  he 
is  defcribed  by  the  poets  and  fculptors  of  antiquity,  a 
moft  graceful  and  elegant  figure.  Anacreon,  after  all, 
like  the  Greek  epigrammatifls,  muft  be  acknowledged 
to  owe  much  of  his  fweetnefs  to  a  language,-  which  can- 
not be  otherwife  than  fweet on  certain  fubjefts,,  without 
unnatural  violence. 

The  Latin  language,  though  fufceptible  of  peculiar 
delicacy,  is  certainly  lefs  capable  of  fweetnefs  than  the 
dialed  of  Athens,  Ionia,  and  Doris.  But  ftill  there  are 
many  authors  in  it,  who  have  derived  much  of  the  power 
of  pleafing  the  human  race,  during  near  twenty  centu- 
ries, from  the  fingular  fweetnefs  of  their  ftyle. 

Catullus,  I  believe,  deferves  to  be  mentioned  among 
the  firft  of  thofe  who  have  emulated  the  Greeks  in  their 
diftinguifhed  excellence.  Few  books  would  have  been 
better  calculated  to  give  boys  a  true  tafle  for  fweet  com- 
pofition,  if  the  decency  of  the  poet's  fehuments  had  beea 
equal  to  the  delicacy  of  his  ftyle. 

Horace  was  a  very  Proteus  in  the  circumftance  of  a 
verfatile  and  variegated  didlion.  His  odes  abound  with 
ftanzas,  and  his  other  works  with  heroic  verfes,  which 
evidently  prove,  that  if  he  had  chofen  to  vie  with 
Virgil  in  ftrength  and  dignity,  he  would  have  approach- 
ed his  rival.  But  he  was  a  man  of  pleafure,  and  his 
favourite  ftyle  is  that  in  which  he  celebrates  love  and' 
wine.  In  this  there  is  a  remarkable  fweetnefs  ;  and  I 
know  not  whether  the  curiofa  f elicit  at,  or  thnt  charm 
of  his  writings,  which  refulted  from  ftudy  and  hnppinefs 
united,  may  not  be  faid  to  confift  in  fweetnefs  and 
delicacy.  Such  is  the  delightful  fweetnefs  of  the  ninth- 
ode  of  the  fourth  book,  and  the  fourth  of  the  third, 
that  all  readers  have  been  charmed  with  them  ;  and 
Julius  Scaliger,  a  very  warm  critic,  has  aflerted,  that  he 
had  rather  be  the  author  of  them  than  of  all  Pindar's 
odes,  or  than  be  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a  monarch. 
E  J  It 


102  ESSAYS,  No.  106. 

It  i?,  I  think,  certain,  that  many  of  the  odes  of  Horace, 
and  many  of  the  works  of  other  pcets  of  equal  fame, 
have  delighted  mankind  from  one  generation  to  an- 
other, far- lefs  by  their  fentiments  than  by  thofe  con- 
genial beauties,  a  fweetnefs  of  language,  a  delicate 
choice  of  words,  and  a  well  modulated  collocation. 

The  modeft  bard  of  Mantua  indifputably  owes  his 
influence  over  the  human  mind,  to  his  talent  in  attemper- 
ing, in  a  inoft  judicious  union,  foftnefs,  fweetnefs,  and 
the  niceft  delicacy,  with  the  moft  majeftic  grandeur. 

Among  the  profe  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome,  every 
reader  cf  tafte  will  immediately  obferve,  that  Herodo- 
tus and  Xenophon,  Cacfar  and  Cicero,  claim  the  firft 
?lace  in  the  excellence  of  a  fweet  ftyle.  The  two 
linies  and  Paterculus  have  a  confiderable  fh  ire  of  it. 
Thucydides,  Salluft,  and  Tacitus  are  too  fond  of 
aulterity  to  admit  any  great  portion  of  fweetnefs. 

Many  of  the  modern  Latin  poets  have  diftinguimed 
thcmfelves  by  the  fweetnefs  of  their  verfe.  Some  of 
them  have,  however,  carried  it  to  excefs,  and  have  writ- 
ten in  the  worft  manner  of  Grotius,  Johannes  Secun- 
dus,  and  Bonifonius.  Sweetnefs  ought  to  be  diflin- 
guiftied  from  Jufcioufnefs  ;  the  one  afFecls  us  with  the 
ienfations  durably  agreeable;  the  other  quickly  cloys 
tnd  palls  the  appetite. 

Tl>e  eminent  French  writers,  who  certainly  pofTefs 
tafte,  have  difplayed  a  remarkable  fweetnefs  of  ftyle. 
The  Italians  can  fcarcely  compofe  without  difplaying  it. 
Ke  who  has  formed  a  tafte  for  this  quality,  will  find  it 
fully  gratified  in  the  writings  of  Fontaine,  Metaftafio, 
and,  indeed,  in  all  the  celebrated  authors  of  France 
and  Italy.  Thofe  nations,  in  modern  times,  have  been 
more  defective  in  ilrength  and  nerve,  than  in  any 
of  the  fofter  qualities,  the  purpofe  of  which  is  to 
pleafe. 

Though  the  French  are  difpofed  to  deny  the  Englifh 
the  praiie  of  tafte,  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  we 
have  writers  who  can  rival  them  in  their  prctenfions 
to  every  excellence  which  can  adorn  compofition. 
Our  Addifon,  like  feme  of  the  moft  celebrated  ancients, 
pofTefles  that  f\veetnefs,  that  delicacy,  and  that  grace, 
^•hich  is  formed  to  pleafe  the  human  mind,  under  all 

tho 


No.  106.  MORAL,    &c.  103 

the  revolutions  of  time,  of  fafbion,  and  of  capricious 
tafte.  It  is  not  only  the  exceJent  matter  which  pro- 
duces the  efteft  of  gently  compofing  our  paffions  while 
we  are  reading  Addiion  ;  but  it  is  alfo  that  fweet 
ftyle,  which  c.innot  be  read. and  t^n.ed  without  com- 
mi'M  ating  to  the  inina  fomething  of  its  O'vn  euuability, 
Sir  William  Ternpie  was,  indetd,  the  mojel  of  .vd- 
difo.i,  ar.d  he  is  remaikable  for  the  fweeinefs  of  his  flyle, 
especially  i/  he  is  compared  with  the  writers  of  his  own 
tim-. 

All  our  eminent  poets  have  judicioufly  mingled 
Avcernefs  with  ihength,  and  er  ice  with  digm'y.  Waller 
h~.s  uiually  obtained  th.  praife  cf  i\v-etrci~s ;  but  he  has 
been  greatly  exceeded  by  his  fucce.Tors  in  this  and  e1  ery 
01.1:0  fj  ccies  of  poetry.  If  that  fort  of  £emus  which 
conflitutes  a  Homer,  a  Shnkefpeare,  a  Mi  I  ion,  lus  not 
been  common  among  us;  yet  the  iuboroinate  fpecies, 
which  is  difplayed  in  elegant  mediocrity,  and  in  what 
we  call  pretty  and  pleafing  opjfcula,  has  been  no  \vhcre 
more  :  '-.uiiuaiu. 

It  ap:.c:ira  to  me,  that  the  later  writers  of  profe 
have  rath  .r  afiritea  the  mafculine  and  nervous,  than  the 
fweet  and  o,  T  -ci\>\  The  late  Mr.  Harris  is,  indeed,  an 
exception  ;  f  ;r  he  coliefted  the  pureft  honey  from  the 
flowers  of  Attica.  The  author  of  Fitzofborne's  letters 
has  exhibited  both  grace  and  fweetnefs  ;  and  I  wifh  they 
were  not  fometimes  injured  by  verbofity.  Johnfon, 
Hawk-^fworth,  Robertlon,  are  chiefly  admired  for 
fbength  and  force.  Hume  has  now  and  then  dif^Iayed 
fomething  of  Addifonian  fweetnefs  in  a  few  of  his 
moral  cfl'ays.  It  is  to  be  wilhed  he  had  difpiayed  alfo 
fomething  of  the  Addifonian  goodnefs  of  heart.  The 
Warburtonnn  fchool,  as  Hume  called  it,  though  it  has 
produced  ingenious  and  nervous  writers,  cannot  boaft 
either  of  fueetnefs  or  gracefulnefb.  It  has  delighted 
much  in  violent  controverfy  and  arbitrary  dictation,  both 
of  which  ufually  bid  defiance  to  the  Graces,  and  prefer 
bitternefs  and  acrimony  to  fweetnefs. 

Though   it  may   not   be  eaiy  to  define  the  whole  of~ 

that,  whatever  it  is,  which  conttitiites,fweeinefsof  ftyle, 

yet  it  is   by  no  means  difficult  to  difcover  one  or  two 

circumftances  which  are  highly  conducive  to  it.     It  is-» 

F  4  indeed, 


104-     .  ESSAYS,  No.  107. 

indeed,  obvious  to  obferve,  that  the  frequent  ufe  of 
liquid  letters,  and  of  labials  combined  with  fyllables, 
confifting  of  vowels  with  few  confonants,  contributes 
greatly  to  fweeten  the  didlion.  But  fo  nice  a  point 
is  real  excellen  e,  that  the  fmalleft  excefs  or  affeflation 
of  any  particular  beauty  will  totally  deftroy  all  its 
agreeable  effe£l.  It  muft  refult  from  nature,  cultivated, 
indeed,  but  not  too  clofely  confined  and  directed,  by 
art.  Alliteration  is  conducive  to  fweetnefs,  and  is  a 
figure  frequently  ufed  by  the  beft  writers,  antient  and 
modern.  Ufed  with  caution  it  cannot  fail  to  pleafe  ;  but 
the  caufe  of  the  pleafure  fhould  be  latent.  When  this 
figure  obtrudes  itfelf  too  often,  and  in  excefs,  as  it  does 
in  feveral  modern  writers,  it  lofes  all  its  grace,  and  the- 
reader  refents  and  loaths  the  paltry  artifice  of  a  writer 
who  depends  on  fo  poor  a  claim  to  applaufe.  This,  in- 
deed, and  all  oiher  ornaments  are  to  be  ufed,  as  it  has 
been  obferved,  like  fait  at  a  meal,  which  agreeably 
feafons  every  difh  when  mixed  in  moderation,  but  which 
would  fpoil  the  whole,  if  it  were  rendered  the  predo- 
minant ingredient  in  the  repaft. 


No.   CVII.       HINTS   TO  THOSE   WHO  ARE    DE- 
SIGNED FOR  THE  PROFESSION  OF  PHYSIC. 


IT  was  always  a  part  of  my  defign,  in  thefe  papers, 
to  fuggeft  a  few  hints  of  advice  to  young  perfons 
who  are  juft  entering  on  any  of  the  liberal  profefiions  ; 
not,  indeed,  with  a  prefumptuous  intention  to  direcl 
them  in  a  technical  or  fcientific  praftice,  but  merely  to 
give  them  feme  general?  ideas,  which  may  render  their 
views  more  liberal,  and  their  minds  more  generous,  or 
arm  them  with  fome  ufeful  precautions.  I  remember 
too  well  the  impertinence  of  the  fophill  who  read  a 
lecture  to  Hannibal  on  the  art  of  war,  to-  think  of  in- 
ftrucling  any  perfons  in  the  peculiar  or  mechanical  art 
and  fcience,  which  they  have  made  the  ftudy  of  their 
lives.  But  there  are  certain  univerfal  truths  which 
men,  attached  to  a  particular  purfuit,  fometimes  over- 
look. 


No.  107.  M   O   R   A  L,     Sec.  105 

look.  There  is  alfo  a  certain  enlargement  of  mind, 
which  is  loft  in  the  narrow  habits  and  confined  views  of 
thole  who  take  an  active  part  in  a  lucrative  profeffion. 
He  who  furveys  life  in  an  extenfive  profpect,  may  fee  a 
variety  of  magnificent  objects  which  efcape  the  eye, 
which  is  conftantly  fixed  on  a  few  fingle  circumftances, 
and  confined  within  a  narrow  circle.  It  is  the  bufinefs 
of  the  moralift  to  infpect  every  part  of  human  life,  to 
endeavour  to  correct  its  errors,  and  promote  all  the  ex- 
cellence and  happinefs  of  which  it  is  capable. 

It  has  been  jultly  remarked,  that  they  who  enter  on 
the  profeflion  of  medicine  in  any  of  its  branches,  have 
commonly  depended  for  fuccefs,  rather  on  the  culti- 
vation of  the  graces  than  the  fciences.  And  it  is  certain, 
that  many  perfons  whofe  folid  attainments  were  very 
moderate,  have  run  away  with  the  greateft  fhare  of 
wealth  and  popularity,  with  few  other  recommendations 
than  a  fine  perfon,  a  fhewy  drefs,  a  fmgular  equipage, 
and  an  undaunted  effrontery. 

But  fmce  internal  fatisfaction,  a  confcioufnefs  of 
having  done  all  that  was  poflible  to  prepare  for  a  pro- 
feilion,  and  of  having  pretended  to  no  more  than  we 
are  able  to  perform,  is  a  furer  fource  of  happinefs,  than, 
the  applaufe,  and  even  the  guineas  of  the  ignorant  mul- 
titude ;  I  advife  every  pupil,  who  values  fubftantial  hap- 
pinefs more  than  the  phantom  of  it,  to  devote  the  firft 
period  of  his  life  to  a  very  ferious  pursuit  of  every  part  of 
knowledge  which  contributes  to  give  him,  not  only  a 
practical,  but  a  theoretical  {kill  in  his  profeflion  ;  not 
only  the  contracted  ideas  of  a  mercenary  practitioner, 
but  the  comprehensive  fentiments  of  a  lludent  in  phi- 
lofophy. 

The  foundation  fhould  be  kid  in  an  education  truly 
liberal.  It  is  really  lamentable  to  obferve  the  extreme 
ignorance  of  thofe  among  medical  practitioners,  who 
are  applied  to  in  the  firft  inftance,  and  who  conftitute 
the  moll  numerous  clafs.  They  are  taken  from  a  writing 
fchool,  or  perhaps  a  grammar  fchool,  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  and  bound  apprentices.  They  have  uiually 
acquired  a  good  hand  writing  ;  but  their  knowledge  of 
the  daffies  is  leldom  worth  mentioning;  and,  upon  the 
whole,  their  education  may  be  faid  to  be  about  equal 
F.  5  to 


io6  ESSAYS,  No.  107. 

to  that  of  a  pauper  in  a  parifh  chanty  fchool.  Their  bu- 
fmeis  is  to  Hand  behind  the  counter,  and  compound 
medicines  by  the  prefcriptions  of  the  doctor.  Thefe  are 
"  ufually  in  Latin,  written  very  badly,  and  full  of  affedled 
abbreviations.  They  are,  indeed,  often  fo  enigmatical, 
that  nothing  lefs  than  the  fagacity  of  an  CEdipus  can  re- 
folve  their  difficulties.  The  poor  lad,  if  he  has  time, 
will  toil  at  his  dictionary,  where,  however,  he  often  toils 
in  vain  ;  but  if  he  has  not  time,  which  is  ufually  the 
cafe,  he  takes  the  moil  expeditious  method  of  doing 
bufinefs.  He  is  aftimned  to  confefs  his  ignorance,  and 
therefore  pets  up  any  medicine  which  his  c  njedure 
fupgeits ;  the  phial  is  wrapt  up,  difpatched  with  all  ex- 
pedition, and  the  patient  poifoned. 

After  having  fpent  feven  years  in  a  {hop  pounding 
drugs  and  fpreading  pi  alters  ;  and  after  having  acquired 
a  little  paltry  portion  of  mechanical  knowledge  by 
conftant  habit,  he  is  difmiffed  as  complete  ;  and  goes 
Into  the  country  a  bold  profeffor  of  chirurgery  and 
pharmacy.  With  a  fmart  drefs,  an  unblufliing  coun- 
tenance, and  a  voluble  tongue,  he  is  fure  of  fuccefs, 
and  bids  defiance  to  all  the  learning  in  the  world.  In, 
his  own  opinion  he  is  another  Hippocrates  or  Heberden  ; 
and,  indeed,  he  i?  an  objedl  of  real  wonder  to  the 
country  people  ;  for  he  collects  a  few  hard  words  from 
Ms  dictionary,  which  he  utters  with  great  gravity  among 
goflips  and  farmers,  who  confider  him  as  a  very  learned 
man,  as  well  as  prodigioufly  clever  in  his  profefiion. 
Thofe  who  could  bear  witnefs  againft  his  fkill,  are  all 
fecured  and  filenced  in  the  church-yard. 

1  pfiert,  that  a  knowledge  of  Greek  as  well  as  Latin, 
is  really  necefiary  to  the  apothecary,  if  he  would  perform 
his  bufinefs  with  that  accuracy  which  is  certainly  re- 
quired in  fo  important  an  employment.  A  boy,  def- 
tined  to  this  employment,  fhould  by  no  means  leave 
his  fchool  till  the  age  of  fixteen  or  feventeen.  The 
knowledge  of  the  learned  languages,  acquired  before 
that  time,  is  merely  elementary  ;  it  is  only  of  ufe  as  it 
leads  to  farther  improvement  in  the  languages.  It 
cannot  qualify  for  any  profcilion,  much  lefs  for  the 
apothecaries,  the  names  of  whofe  inftrunients,  medi- 
cines. 


No.  107.  MORAL,     &c.  107 

ernes,    and  operations,    are,  for  the  moft  part^  either 
wholly  Greek,  or  of  Greek  extra6tion. 

But,  indeed,  if  he  wifhes  to  raife  his  profeffion  above 
the  level  of  an  empiric,  or  a  farrier,  he  mould  acquire 
a  libi-T.i!  education  for  its  own  fake,  independently  of 
its  ule  in  n  mercenary  view  ;  for  the  fake  of  polifhing  his 
rniud,  and  elevating  his  fentiments.  With  a  liberal  edu- 
cation and  a  a  e,%  Lenfive  practice,  he  is  in  fact  a  phyfician, 
though  called  an  apothecary  ;  and  though  he  mould  nei- 
ther have  purchafed  a  diploma,  nor  have  earned  a  regu- 
lar degree  by  {pending  his  time,  money,  and  health  in 
an  Engii.h  iM'.verlity,  he  is  a  gentleman  ;  and  the  pecu- 
liar utility  of  his  employments,  when  judicioufly  and 
humanely  conducleJ,  entitle  him  to  the  company  and 
converfation  of  ail  who  ueierve  that  diftinction. 

Tatre  never  was  an  age  in  which  they  who  intend 
to  lupport  the  dignified  character  of  graduated  phy- 
ficb.is,  had  better  opportunities  for  improvement  in 
pfeyfiotogy.  Lectures,  as  well  as  books,  in  anatomy, 
chcniiilry,  and  every  pait  of  fcience  and  natural  phi- 
lofophy,  never  more  abounded.  Let  the  ft  "dent  devote 
himieif  to  thefe  with  long  and  fericus  application,  and, 
depend  more  upon  them,  than  on  the  caprice  of  faftiion,.' 
or  any  fingulanty  in  his  chariot  or  livery.  A  popular 
jphyfician  in  a  great  capitr.l,  and  indeed  any  where, 
is  a  very  important  member  of  fociety,  confidered 
merely  in  a  political  view.  The  lives,  limbs,  health,  and 
fpims  of  a  very  great  part  of  the  fu-bjecls  of  a  kingdom 
depend  upon  his  fkill  and  noncfty.  A  man  who  under- 
takes this  office,  and  recommends  himfelf  by  addrefs 
and  artifice,  .vithout  qualifying  himfelf  with  every  pre- 
paratory knowledge,  and  who  abufes  the  confidence  of 
thofe  wno  ily  to  him  as  to  a  guardian  angel,  in  the  deepen; 
diltrefs,  has  very  little  claim  to  the  title  of  aahoneit  man; 
and  daferves  to  be  ftigmatized  and  punifhed  with  the 
worlt  of  villains,  and  rhe  viieil  or'  (harpers.. 

It  has  been  obferved,  and  regretted,  th.u  fome  in- 
dividual in  this  liberal  profeilion  have  exhibited  fuch 
an  attention  to  interelt,  as  is  incompatible  with  the 
common  feelings  uf  humanity.  Such  perfons  are  their 
owa  enemies ;  for  nc  gratifications  <•:  fordid  avarice  can 
equal  the  delicious  fenfations  of  him,  who  delight.,  in 
F  a  exer.iiing 


108  E  .S    S    A    Y    S,  No.  ioS. 

exercifing  his  {kill,  in  diffufing  joy  through  the  haunts 
of  mifery,  and  in  relieving  the  fick,  the  maimed,  the 
halt,  and  the  blind. 

There  is,  indeed,  fomething  godlike  in  the  medical 
profeffion,  when  it  is  humanely  and  difmtereftedly  ex- 
ercifed.  Every  one,  it  is  true,  ought  to  pay  that  regard  to 
intereft,  which  prudence,  and  a  love  of  his  own  family 
demand  ;  but  he  who  alfo  delights  in  relieving,  from 
the  fatisfactions  of  fympathy  and  a  fenfe  of  duty,  may  be 
faid  to  refemble  the  great  model  of  every  perfection,  Jefus 
Chrift,  who  went  about  doing  good,  and  healing  all  man- 
ner of  ficknefs  and  difeafes  among  the  people. 


NO.  CVIII.  THE  COMPLAINTS  AGAINST 
MODERN  LITERATURE  PROBABLY  ILL- 
FOUNDED. 

TO  complain  of  the  prefent,  and  to  praife  the  pair, 
has  fo  long  been  the  favourite  topic  cf  difap- 
pointment,  or  of  ignorance,  that  every  ftrifture  on  the 
degeneracy. of  the  times  is  looked  upon  as  the  effufion 
of  ill-nature,  or  the  refult  of  fuperficial  obfervation  : 
but  the  abfurdity  of  declamatory  inveftive  ought  not 
to  preclude  the  cool  remarks  of  truth,  reafon,  and  ex- 
perience." 

The  practice' of  vice,  or  virtue,  has  indeed  varied  at 
different  periods,  rather  in  the  mode,  than  in  the  de- 
gree ;  but  the  (rate  of  literature  has  fuffered  more  vi- 
olent revolutions ;  it  has  fometimes  fhone  with  the 
brighteft  luftre  ;  and  at  others  has  been  totally  over- 
fhadowed  with  the  darknefs  of  barbarifm. 

To  review  the  ftate  of  learning  from  the  earlieft 
periods,  and  to  inveftigate  the  caufes  of  its  fluctuation, 
is  a  talk  that  requires  much  labour,  fagacity,  and  eru- 
dition. More  fuperficial  enquiries  will,  however,  fuf- 
fice  to  examine  the  juftice  of  the  charge  of  literary 
degeneracy  in  the  prefent  age,  and,  if  it  be  well 
founded,  to  difcover  the  caufes  of  it. 

It  has  been  obferved  by  an  ingenious  writer,  that  as 
every  age  has  been  marked  by  fome  peculiarity,  from 

which 


No.  108.  MORAL,    Sec.  109 

which  it  has  derived  its  charafteriftic  appellation  ;  fo 
the  prefent,  were  it  to  be  diftinguifhed  by  a  name  from 
its  molt  prevalent  humour,  might  be  called,  the  age  of 
authors.  Of  late  years,,  almoft  every  man  has  felt 
an  ambition  of  appearing  in  print,  from  the  voluminous 
lexicographer,  down  to  the  fcribbler  in  a  pamphlet 
or  a  newfpaper.  It  is,  indeed,  natural  to  fuppofe,  that  - 
of  a  great  number  of  competitors,  fome  would  reach 
the  prize  ;  and  that  the  univerfal  combination  of  intel- 
lects would  efrecl  fome  ftupendous  work,  which  mould 
exceed  all  the  productions  of  our  predeceflbrs,  and 
demand  the  admiration  of  the  lateft  pofterity.  It  has, 
however,  been  obferved,  that  the  learning  of  the  prefent 
age  is  not  deep,  though  diffufive  ;  and  that  its  pro- 
ductions are  not  excellent,  though  numerous. 

The  multiplicity  of  compofitions  is  an  argument  of 
their  hafty  production  ;  and  haftinefs  is,  at  leaft,  a  pre- 
fumptive  proof  of  their  want  of  merit.  In  this  point, 
the  literary  and  the  natural  world  refemble  each  other. 
The  productions  of  nature,  whether  vegetable  or  animal, 
as  they  are  either  of  a  flow  or  fpeedy  growth,  arc 
known  to  be  durable  or  tranfuory,  folid  or  unfub- 
ftantial.  The  oak  and  the  elephant  are  long  before  they 
attain  perfection,  but  are  ftill  longer  before  they  decay  : 
while  the  butterfly  and  the  floweret  perifh  as  they  arife, 
almoft  within  a  diurnal  revolution  of  the  fun.  The 
works  of  Virgil  coft  him  much  time  and  labour ;  but 
they  have  exifted  near  two  thoufand  years  univerfally 
admired,  while  the  compofitions  of  that  poet,  who 
boafted  he  could  write  two  or  three  hundred  verfes 
while  lie  flood  on  one  leg,  were  loft  in  a  fpace  almoft  as 
fliort  as  that  in  which  they  were  produced. 

But  the  hafty  formation  of  literary  works  in  modern 
times,  is  not  a  greater  obftacle  to  their  excellence,  than 
the  mercenary  motives  of  their  authors.  The  office  of 
inftrucling  mankind  in  morality,  and  of  informing  them 
in  fcience,  was  once  referved  for  thofe  alone  who  were 
particularly  adapted  to  the  tafk  by  the  impulfes  of 
genius,  by  peculiar  opportunities,  and  by  fingular  ap- 
plication. In  thefe  times,  however,  the  profeifion  of 
an  author  is  become  a  lucrative  employment,  and  is 
praftifed  rather  by  thofe  who  feel  the  inconvenience  of 

hunger, 


"o  ESSAYS,  No.  log. 

hunger,  _than  by  thofe  who  are  Simulated  with  the 
hope  of  immortality.  But  it  is  a  known  truth.,  that 
avarice  contrafts  the  mind,  and  renders  it  mcapab.t-  of 
elevated  fentimcnts  and  generous  enterpiizrs.  It  ceafes 
therefore  to  be  matter  of  wonder,  that  works  are  defti- 
tute  of  fpirit,  when  they  pruce?  njt  from  the  noble 
iii-i''  iir  infpired  by  the  love  of  fame,  but  from  the  frJgid 
incitements  of  the  iove  of  m  :icy. 

The  depiaved  taile  of  re.iuers  is  another  caufe  of  the 
degeneracy  of  writers.  They  who  writ.-  /or  the  pubhc, 
muft  gratify  the  tafte  of  the  public.  In  vain  are  their 
compofitions  formed  on  the  ir>ouel  of  the  befl  \vri;°rs, 
and  regulated  by  the  precepts  of  the  moic  judicious 
critics,  if  they  conform  not  to  the  popular  caprice, 
and  the  miftaken  judgment  of  the  vulgar.  In  an  ;  ;,c 
\vhen  the  tafte  for  reading  is  un'uerfal,  many  \vo . '-;s, 
contemptible  both  in  defign  and  execution,  will  be  re- 
ceived by  fome  r^  .ders,  with  diftinguifhed  applaufe. 
The  want  of  th"  merits  of  juft  reasoning  at>d  pure 
language  is,  with  the  greater  part,  the  half-iearnev.  and 
the  ignorant  no  objection.  In  truth,  urconn.Cted 
thoughts,  and  fuperficial  declamation,  are  congenial  to 
minds  unaccuftomed  to  accurate  thinking,  and  infenfible 
of  the  charms  of  finiflied  excellence.  Hence  writers  of 
acknowledged  abilities  and  learning  have  been  kn  \vn, 
when  they  aimed  at  popularity,  to  relinquish  real  ex- 
cellence, and  adopt  a  falfe  tafte,  in  opposition  to  their 
own  judgment. 

After  all,  it  may  not  perhaps  be  abfurd,  to  attribute 
many  of  the  complaints  agaiiiit  the  prefent  fhue  of  letters 
to  ignorance,  envy,  and  caprice.  In  every  department  cf 
literature,  in  th  gay  regions  of  fancy,  and  in  the  depths 
of  philofophy  ana  fcience,  many  authors  there  are  of 
this  age  and  nation,  who  have  acquired  an  illulirious 
reputation  by  deferving  it:  and  if  th  >y  want  that 
originality  of  thought  and  folidity  of  le;:rni;ig  which 
mark  fome  c.f  the  productions  of  our  firft  writers,  yet 
have  they  a  force,  ekgance,  and  correftnefi  of  ftyle,  un- 
known to  their  predeceflbrs. 


No.  CIX, 


No.  109.  M  O  R  A  L,    &e.  ii r 


No.  CIX.  ON  THE  CAUSES  AND  FOLLY  Of 
DISSENTIONS  IN  A  COUNTRY  NEIGH- 
BOURHOOD. 


IT  feems  extraordinary,  that  with  all  our  pretenfions 
to  the  focial  affedions  and  to  chriftianity,  there  are 
few  country  towns  or  villages,  in  which  the  families, 
which  are  reckoned  genteel  by  the  right  of  fortune  and 
of  felf-eftimation,  live  upon  terms  of  cordial  and  fmcere 
friendfhip.  One  might,  I  believe,  venture  to  go  far- 
ther, and  to  affert,  that  there  are  few  where  a  general 
enmity  and  diflike  do  not  lurk,  under  the  formality 
of  ceremonious  vifits,  and  civil  falutation. 

The  foundation  of  all  the  unealinefs  is  a  foolifh 
pride,  which,  though  it  was  not  made  for  fo  weak  a 
creature  as  man.  yet  adheres  fo  clofely  to  him,  that  he 
can  feldom  divert  himfelf  of  it,  without  fuch  an  effort 
as  few  minds  are  able  to  make.  Philofophy  is  vainly 
applied  ;  for  few  are  prouder  than  philofophers.  Reli- 
gion only  can  effectually  eradicate  a  vice  fo  deeply 
rooted  ;  that  amiable  religion,  which  teaches  us  to  love 
our  neighbours  as  ourfelves ;  and  which  has  informed 
us  of  a  truth  which  experience  abundantly  confirms,  that 
from  pride  only  cometh  contention. 

The  moft  trifling  diftinclion  or  appearance  of  fupe- 
riority,  is  fure  to  excite  all  the  heart-burnings  of  fecret 
envy  and  jealoufy.  Inflead  of  rejoicing  at  any  fortunate 
event  which  contributes  to  the  happinefs  of  a  neigh- 
bour, the  greater  part  fecretly  repine  at  it,  and  endea- 
vour to  leffen  the  fatisfaclion  it  might  afford,  by  dif- 
feminating  fome  mortifying  furmife  or  infmuation. 
Indeed,  the  fortunate  perfon  fometimes  deferves  fome 
humiliation  ;  for  as  his  neighbours  are  endeavouring  to 
lower  him  to  their  own  level,  he,  on  the  other  hand, 
oflentatioufly  difplays  his  fuperiority,  and  labours  to  de- 
prefs  them  below  their  due  rank,  that  his  own  elevation 
may  be  more  confpicuous.  Ic  would  be  entertaining  to 

behold 


112  ESSAYS,  No.  icg, 

behold  the  little  contrivances  which  the  petty  gentry 
invent  for  the  purpofe  of  eclipfing  each  other,  if  there 
were  not  always  fomething  of  a  malignity  which  dif- 
gufts  and  hurts  the  mind  of  an  humane  man.  The 
rivalry  is  by  no  means  of  an  amicable  fort ;  and  though 
the  parties  are  wonderfully  civil  when  they  meet,  they 
often  hate  each  other  with  the-  greateft  inveteracy. 
Nothing  would,  indeed,  give  them  greater  pleafure, 
than  to  hear  of  each  other's  lofles  or  ruin,  though  they 
would  not  fail  to  vifit  on  the  occafion,  and  to  fympathife 
in  the  politeft  and  moft  approved  fafhion. 

Scandal,  indeed,  who  has  long  reigned  with  arbitrary 
fway  in  country  towns,  is  ufually  the  caufe  of  all  that 
latent  hatred  which  poifons  the  happinefs  of  families 
whofe  birth  or  fortune  has  placed  them  in  the  fame 
neighbourhood  ;  and  who,  enjoying  plenty*  might  alfo 
enjoy  peace,  if  they  could  prevail  upon  thcmfelves  to 
turn  a  deaf  «ar  to  the  tale-bearer.  But  fuch  is  the 
perverferefs  or  malignity  of  many,  that  though  they 
have  themfelves  but  juft  fuffered  from  the  falfe  reports 
of  flanderers,  they  liften,  with  delight,  to  the  next  whif- 
per,  that  flies  like  the  arrow  in  the  dark,  and  wounds  a 
neighbour's  reputation  If  any  favourable  report  begins 
to  prevail,  it  is  with  difficulty  admitted;  it  is  doubted, 
contradicted,  or  extenuated.  But  there  is  no  lie  fo 
improbably  falfe,  fo  little  like  the  truth,  but  it  will 
be  joyfully  received  and  believed  without  examination, 
fo  long  as  it  tends  to  lower  an  objedl  of  envy  in  the 
efteem  of  a  neighbourhood,  to  injure  the  intereft  of  a 
rival  in  vanity,  or  to  wound  the  heart  of  him  whom 
we  hate,  only  becaufe  we  feel  the  weight  of  his  real 
fuperiority. 

It  is  to  be  wiflied,  that  people  would  confider  from 
how  contemptible  a  fource  moft  of  thofe  calumnies  ori- 
ginate, which  induce  neighbours  to  entertain  a  bad 
opinion  of  each  other,  and,  in  confequence,  to  live  in 
aftate  ofconftant,  though  fecret  enmity.  They  ufually 
come  from  domeftic  fervants,  who,  in  revenge  for  a 
juft  reprimand,  or  from  the  wickednefs  of  an  ungrateful 
heart,  delight  in  difieminating  the  moft  cruel  tales 
without  the  fmalleft  foundation  in  reality.  Or,  fup- 
pofing  fomething  fimilar  to  the  calumny  did  happen 


No.  1*9.  MORAL,    &c.  nj 

in  a  neighbour's  houfe,  it  is  fo  difguifed,  altered,  and 
exaggerated,  by  the  time  it  has  gone  from  the  top  of 
the  town  to  the  bottom,  that  what  was,  in  truth,  no 
more  than  a  trifle  fcarcely  worth  attention,  becomes  a 
charge  of  a  moft  atrocious  and  injurious  kind,  when  it 
has  been  tofled  from  tongue  to  tongue.  The  vileft 
menial  mail  utter  a  lie,  in  the  meaneft  mop  of  the  nv  ft 
paltry  town  ;  and,  in  the  fpace  of  half  an  hour,  it  mall 
be  republifhed  with  additions  and  embellimments,  as  a 
known  fad,  by  the  Lady  of  the  Manor. 

The  petty  offices  and  diftindKons  of  churchwardens, 
furveyors,  mayors,  lords  of  the  manor,  commiffioners 
of  turnpike-roads,  and  fimilar  rural  dignities,  do  in- 
deed often  fill  their  pofleflbrs,  and  their  ladies,  with 
fo  high  a  fenfe  of  their  own  importance,  and  at  the 
fame  time  excite  fo  much  envy  in  the  little  minds  which' 
afpire  at  fuch  little  honours,  that,  in  proportion  as  the 
great  perfonage  advances  in  the  path  of  glory,  he  is 
often  obliged  to  relinquim  the  comforts  of  good  neigh- 
bourhood. It  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  wondered  at,  if 
thcfe  who  have  had  little  or  no  education,  and  whofe 
views  have  been  confined  to  horfes,  dogs,  and  the 
affairs  of  a  veftry  and  a  court-leet,  mould  value 
themfelves  too  much  on  petty  diftin&ion ;  and  fhould 
fuppofe  the  title  of  Efquire,  Lord  of  the  Manor,  or 
Jultice  of  Peace,  fuch  honours  as  may  juftify  them  in 
treating  others  with  contumely.  Neither  is  it  wonder- 
ful, that  they  who  have  never  wandered  beyond  the 
limits  of  their  native  parifh,  mould  furvey  fuch  dif- 
tin&ions  with  an  envious  eye.  All  men  ought,  indeed,  to 
afpire  at  diftinftion,  as  it  may  lead  them  to  afpire  at 
ufefulnefs  and  virtue;  but  it  is  certainly  defirable,  for 
the  fake  of  tranquillity,  that  envy  and  malice  mould 
not  be  mixed  with  laudable  emulation. 

But  there  are  other  caufes  befides  the  love  of  fcandal 
and  the  gratification  of  vanity,  which  powerfully  operate 
in  interrupting  the  harmony  of  a  good  neighbourhood. 
Avarice  is  the  occafion  of  many  and  indeterminable 
difagreements.  In  what  part  of  the  country  can  we 
fix  our  refidence,  where  fome  of  the  clergy  are  not 
objedls  of  diflike,  becaufe  a  regard  to  their  wives  and 
children,  whofe  bread  depends  upoa  their  lives,  induces 

the  a.-* 


114  ESSAYS,  No.  109. 

them  to  infift  on  thofe  dues  which  the  laws  have  al- 
lowed them.  The  clergyman  in  the  mo!t  defart  parrs 
of  the  country,  is  usually  a  man  of  learning,  an;!  of  a 
polite  mind,  who  might  diffufe  a  tafte  for  elegant  and 
improving  converfation  ;  but  he  is  excluded  from  the 
fociety  of  his  parifiiioncrs,  becaufe  he  makes  a  jufl 
claim  upon  their  property.  The  mod  (hocking  calum- 
nies are  propagatec  apainft  him  and  his  family  j  every 
thing  is  done  which  can  mortify  and  diftrefs  him,  an! 
he  is  frequently  involved  for  life  by  the  farmers,  and 
a  pettifogger  at  their  head,  in  vexatious  and  expcnlive 
litigation.  He  who  preaches  peace,  ar.d  who  might 
foften,  by  the  influence  of  polifhed  manners,  the  re- 
mains of  brutality  among  his  favage  and  narrow- 
minded  neighbours,  is  hunted  by  them  tii'  he  is  forced 
to  take  refuge  in  the  lonely  retreat  of  his  parfonage. 

The  various  meetings  which  are  neceffary  to  conduft 
parifh  ::nd  other  public  bufmefs  in  the  country,  are 
often  productive  of  violent  animofities  An  oppofition 
formed  at  a  vellry,  or  a  turnpike-meeting,  is  forretimes 
carried  on  with  more  acrimony  than  in  the  Houfe  of 
Com  i  ons.  Jt  wou'd  not  be  fo  lamentable,  if  the  con- 
fequences  of  the  difpute  terminated  at  the  time  and 
place  in  which  it  arofe;  but  it  ufually  happens,  that 
if  the  gentlemen  h.-ive  disagreed  in  the  veiiry,  the  ladies, 
at  the  next  tea-drinking,  put  onfulien  looks,  and  com- 
mence a  fecret  attack  on  each  other's  perfons,  drefs, 
character,  and  conduft.  Hoftilitie^,  which  owe  their 
rife  to  a  difference  of  opinion  concerning  the  mending 
of  a  road,  or  the  repairing  of  a  fteeple,  are  carritv  on 
under  the  cover  of  external  civility,  and  continue  from 
generation  to  generation. 

It  would  be  a  very  valuable  point  gained,  if  we 
could  prevail  on  the  many  thoufands,  who,  with  all 
the  external  means  of  happir.efs,  lead  uncomfortable 
lives  from  the  diffentions  of  their  neighbourhood,  to 
confider  duly  the  importance  of  a  friendly  intercourfe 
with  thofe  in  whofe  vicinity  they  have  been  placed  by 
Providence.  They  may  be  confidently  affured,  that  na 
pleafure  arifing  from  fcandal,  from  petty  diftinclions, 
from  trifling  matters  of  intereft,  or  from  influence  over 
parilh  or  county  meetings,  can  be  compared  to  the 

fatisfoftioa 


No,  no;  MORA  L,    &c.  11,- 

fatisfa&ion  of  living  in  love,  and  in  a  conftant  interchange 
of  thofe  good  offices  which  alleviate  adverfity,  and  give 
to  profperity  its  fweeteft  enjoyments.  The  qualities 
indifpenfably  necefTary  to  the  accomplifhment  of  this 
defirable  purpofe,  are  benevolence  and  humility. 


No.    CX.      THE    IMPRUDENCE    OF    AN    EARLY 
ATTACHMENT    TO    ACTING    PLAYS, 

IN    A    LETTER. 


AS  I  was  fauntering,  a  few  days  ago,  on  o.ie  of  the 
public  walks,  I  could  not  help  particularly  re- 
marking a  young  man,  whofe  drefs  fhewed  marks  of  a 
fhabby   gentility,    and    whole    countenance    wore    the 
afpeft  of  a  fettled  melancholy. 

The  appearance  of  wretchednefs,  in  whatever  filia- 
tion, is  always  fufficient  to  awaken  my  curiofity.  I  felt 
myfelf  irrefiftibly  impelled  to  enquire  into  the  hiilory 
of  a  perfon  who  feemed  to  be  completely  miferable. 
After  having  walked  a  confiderable  time,  I  perc.ived 
him  to  throw  himfelf,  in  a  difconfolate  attitude-,  on 
one  of  the  feats  of  the  walk.  I  did  not  neglect  the 
opportunity ;  but  feating  myfelf  by  his  fide,  pre- 
vailed on  him,  after  fome  introductory  converfation, 
to  give  me  his  hiftory,  which  he  did  in  the  following 
words: 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  faid  he,  "  though  my  prefent  appear- 
ance may  feem  to  invalidate  my  aflertion,  I  aflure  you 
I  was  the  fon  of  one  of  the  mod  opulent  traders 
in  the  metropolis.  I  might  at  this  time  have  been 
enjoying  all  the  happinefs  that  affluence  can  beftow  ; 
but  now,  alas!  I  have  no  where  to  lay  my  head, 
no  refuge  to  which  I  can  fly  for  comfort.  I  am  aban- 
doned to  the  wide  world  without  a  friend  ;  and  one 
confideration  aggravates  all  my  mifery  I  Inve  de- 
fcrved  my  fufferings,  and  cannot  juilly  complain." 
Here  he  paufed  to  conceal  a  tear  which  was  juft 
buriling  from  his  eyes.  After  he  had  a  little  recovered 

himfelf, 


1 16  ESSAYS,  No.  i  ro. 

himfelf,  his  countenance  gradually  grew  more  ferene, 
and  he  proceed  d  with  lefs  emotion. 

"  When  I  was  at  the  age  of  eleven,  my  father 
*'  placed  me  at  a  celebrated  grammar-fchool  — 
"  there  I  fpent  the  happieft  days  of  my  life.  Nature, 
"  as  I  was  told,  had  given  me  parts ;  I  made  a  rapid 
"  progrefs  in  clafiical  learning;  all  was  encourage- 
"  ment,  all  was  hope,  and  all  was  happinefs.  But,"  in 
"  the  midlt  of  my  improvement,  my  father  refolved, 
*'  in  oppofition  to  the  advice  of  my  matter,  to  remove 
'*  me  from  fchool,  and  to  fettle  me  in  his  own  counting- 
"  houfe.  My  mafter  urged,  that  though  I  might  per- 
"  haps  fucceecl  in  a  learned  profefiion,  yet  the  vivacity 
"  of  my  difpofition  would  be  an  obftacle  to  my  profpe- 
"  rity  in  a  mercantile  employment.  My  father,  fen- 
"  fible  of  the  lucrative  advantages  of  an  eftablifhed 
"  trade,  was  deaf  to  thefe  remonftrances ;  and  on  a 
"  fatal  day  I  entered  into  engagements  to  plod  at  the 
"  defk  a  ad  the  counter  for  feven  years. 

"  Rut  nature-  is  not  t:>  be  conftrained  by  indentures. 
*•*  Jnftead  of  cafting  up  fums,  and  meafuiing*ells,  I  em- 
ployed my  time  in  the  perufal  cf  Shakefpeare,  in 
composing  epilogues  and  farces,  at  d  in  difcuffing 
the  merits  of  every  new  dramatic  production.  In- 
ftead  of  fpending  my  evenings  in  porting  accounts, 
and  examining  my  ledger,  I  was  always  attending 
the  performances  of  a  Foote  or  a  Garrick.  At  length, 
byconftantly  frequenting  the  playhoufes,  and  mixing 
with  contemptible  fciolifls,  who  called  themfelves 
theatrical  critics,  I  became  fo  enamoured  of  the 
ftage,  as  to  look  upon  dramatic  entertainments  as 
conftituting  the  mrft  important  builnefs,  as  well  as 
the  molt  agreeable  enjoyment  of  human  life.  The 
fliop  continually  refounded  with  my  rants,  in  imita- 
tion of  fome  favourite  aftor  ;  and  i  went  fo  far  as 
to  treat  with  the  purchafers  of  a  yard  of  Irifh,  with  a 
theatrical  tone,  and  a  dramatic  a?dlion. 
"  I  had  fo  great  an  opinion  of  my  own  talents,  that, 
like  the  immortal  Shakefpeare,  I  was  ambitious  of 
fhining  both  as  an  aftor  and  a  writer.  Accordingly 
I  finimed  a  comedy  wjth  great  care  and  pains,  and 
prefented  it  to  one  of  the  managers,  who  returned 

"it. 


No.  no.  MORA    L,     &c.  117 

"  it  upon  my  hands,  with  evident  marks  of  contempt. 
"  By  no  means  dejefted,  I  was  refolved  to  try  my  fuo 
*'  cefs  as  an  aftor.  But  having,  with  great  difficulty, 
'«  obtained  pennifiion  to  fpeak  before  the  managers, 
«'  and  a  circle  of  their  friends,  who  ieeraed  to  enjoy 
"  ray  diftrefs,  I  was  again  rejected. 

"  Though  I  could  not  fucceed  at  the  theatres,  I  was 
««  refolved  to  exert  my  abilities  at  fpouting  and  dif- 
"  puting  clubs.  And  here,  indeed,  I  eafily  made  a 
"  confpicuous  figure;  as  I  had  the  advantage  of  9. 
"  claffical  education,  and  moil  of  my  competitors  had 
"  no  education  at  all.  i  he  moft  important  topics  of 
"  religion,  learning,  and  politics  I  difcufled  with 
"  more  volubility  than  the  gravril  prelate,  the  pro- 
foundeft  academic,  or  the  craftielt  ftatefman.  But  I 
triumphed,  as  it  were,  without  an  enemy,  and  the 
facility  of  the  conqueft  diminiflied  the  pleafure  of  it. 
I  foon  became  weary  of  dry  argumentation,  and 
eagerly  panted  to  wear  the  bufkin,  and  to  mouth  the 
fonorous  periods  of  lome  tragic  bard. 
"  It  happened  that  I  had  formed  a  connection 
"  with  a  young  member  of  the  club,  whofe  genius  was 
"  entirely  iimilar  to  my  own,  and  who  had  been  en- 
tf  gaged  with  a  ilrolling  company  of  players.  He  had 
"  often  folicited  me  to  go  with  him  on  an  a&ing  tour 
"  into  the  north  of  England,  and  I  had  as  often  re- 
"  fufed,  from  a  principle  of  pride.  But  at  length,  an 
"  ardent  defire  of  exhibiting  on  a  flage,  overcame  every 
"  regard  to  duty,  and  every  compunction  of  confcience. 
"  I  in  a  fatal  hour  (I  blufh  to  mention  it),  I  embezzled 
-«'  a  fum  of  money  with  which  I  was  trufted  in"  the 
"  courfe  of  bufmefs,  packed  up  my  clothes  and  ac- 
"  companicd  a  fet  of  vagabonds,  who,  like  myfelf,  had 
*'  abandoned  every  reputable  occupation,  and  devoted 
*'  themfelves  to  infamy  and  indigence,  for  the  fake  of 
"  enjoying  the  plaudits  of  a  few  ruftics  affembled  in  a 
"  barn.  « 

"  And  now  cornmences  the  asra  of  all  my  mifery. 
"  The  money  I  had  fraudulently  taken,  was  foon 
te  fquandered  away  in  a  fociety  of  thoughtlefs  mortals, 
"  who  regarded  not  to-morrow,  if  they  could  feail  to- 
'«  day.  We  were,  indeed,  received  with  applaule  ; 

"  but 


ii8  ESSAYS,  No.  no. 

but  the  audience  was  commonly  £b  fcanty,  that  the 
expences  of  reprefentation  often  exceeded  the  re- 
ceipts. In  every  town  we  were  looked  upon  with 
fufpicion,  and  treated  as  vagrants.  We  were  fome- 
times  reduced  to  fuch  extremities,  by  the  expences 
of  travelling,  and  the  loffes  of  afling  to  empty 
barns,  that  we  have  wanted  even  food  to  fupport 
nature.  Above  charity,  we  could  not  be  relieved, 
and  deftitute  of  credit,  we  could  not  be  trufted.  At 
length  I  faw  my  folly,  and  after  various  refolves, 
fent  to  a  friend  to  enquire  whether  my  father  was 
difpofed  to  receive  me,  mould  I  return  and  confefs 
my  fault.  How,  alas  !  was  I  flruck,  when  I  was 
told  in  anfwer,  that  my  father  died  a  few  days  ago 
of  a  broken  heart ;  and  that  his  death  was  fo  ludden, 
that  he  had  not  time  to  alter  his  will,  in  which,  in 
the  firft  rage  after  his  difcovery  of  my  elopement,  he 
had  cut  me  off  with  a  (hilling. 

*'  It  is  impoffible  to  give  you  an  adequate  idea  of 
my  grief  on  this  occafion,  and  I  mail -only  inform 
you,  that  it  would  have  proved  fatal,  hid  it  not 
been  foon  removed  by  emotions  of  a  different  kind. 
During  my  indifpofition,  one  of  the  adlrefles  of  our 
company,  whofe  beauty  is  only  exceeded  by  the 
goodnefs  of  her  heart,  watched  me  with  all  the 
anxiety  of  a  parent,  and  foothed  me  under  the  hor- 
rors of  defpair,  with  the  fofteft  blandifhments  of 
tendernefs.  I  foon  felt  a  flame  kindling  in  my 
bread,  which  was  anfwered  with  a  fympathetic 
paffion.  In  (hort,  I  was  no  fooner  reftored  to  health 
and  vigour,  than  I  married  the  lovely  Emily :  we 
have  now  been  united  near  a  year,  and  yefterday  me 
was  fafely  delivered  of  twins.  That  (he  is  well, 
thank  Heaven  ;  but,  alas,  the  reflection,  that  I  am 
deftitute  of  all  the  means  that  can  give  her  eafe,  or 
provide  for  her  offspring,  fharpens  all  the  darts  of 
ill  fortune,  and  embitters  every  woe." 
Here  he  flopped,  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him, 
after  having  given  him  an  invitation  to  my  houfe, 
where  I  hope  to  be  able  to  alleviate  his  misfortunes, 
without  hurtir.g  his  fenfibility.  But  I  cannot  help 
exprefling  my  wifh,  that  all  who,  deluded  by  a  heated 

imagination, 


No,  in.  M  O   R  A  L,    &c*  nj 

imagination,  feel  themfelves  inclined  to  quit  the  com- 
forts of  a  parent  and  a  home,  in  purfuit  of  a  profeffion 
which  is  prohibited  by  law,  and  which  conftantly  en- 
tails on  its  followers  mifery  and  difgrace,  may  avoid 
his  wretchednefs,  by  avoiding  his  conduct. 


NO.   CXI.    ON    THE    PLEASURES    OF    REFLEC- 
TION. 


THAT  the  enjoyments  of  the  undemanding  ex- 
ceed the  pleafures  of  fenfe,  is  a  truth  confefied 
by  all  who  are  capable  of  exerting  the  faculties  of 
thinking  in  rheir  full  vigour.  But  by  thefe  pleafures 
are  generally  underftood  fublime  contemplations  on 
fubje&s  of  fcience  and  abilrufe  difquifition  ;  contempla- 
tions which  can  only  be  the  refult  of  uncommon  powers, 
and  extraordinary  efforts. 

But  there  are  intellectual  pleafures  of  another  kind  ;  to 
the  enjoyment  of  which,  neither  great  abilities  nor  learn- 
ing  are  required.  Thefe  are  no  other  than  the  pleafures 
of  reflection,  which  are  open  to  the  illiterate  mechanic, 
as  well  as  to  the  fage  philosopher,  and  conftitute  fome 
of  the  fweeteft  fat;sfac~Hons  of  human  life. 

There  nre  few  who  have  not  felt  pJeafing  fenfations 
arifing  from  a  retrofpeclive  view  of  the  firil  period  of 
their  lives.  To  recoiled  the  puerile  amufements,  the 
petty  anxieties,  and  the  eager  purfuits  of  childhood, 
is  a  talk  in  which  all  delight.  It  is  common  to  obferve, 
that  on  no  fubjecl  do  men  dwell  with  fuch  pleafure, 
as  the  boyifh  tricks  and  wanton  pran  s  which  they 
praclifed  at  fchool.  The  hoary  head  looks  back  ^ith  a 
fmile  of  complacency,  mixed  with  regret,  on  the  feafon 
when  health  gk)wed  on  the  cheek,  when  lively  fpirits 
warmed  the  heart,  and  when  toil  ftrung  the  nerves  with 
vigour. 

Cicero  has  remarked,  that  events  the  moft  difagree- 
able,  during  their  immediate  influence,  give  an  ex- 
quiiite  fatisfaclion  when  their  confequences  have  ceafed  ; 
and  jEneas  folaces  his  companions,  under  the  hardships 

they 


120  ESSAYS,  No.  in. 

they  endured,  with  the  confideration,  that  the  remem- 
brance of  their  fufferings  would  one  day  give  them 
fatisfaction.  That  thefe  fentim^nts  are  juft,  is  well 
known  to  thofe  who  have  enjoyed  the  converfation 
of  the  foldier.  Battles,  fkirmimes,  and  fieges,  at  which, 
perhaps,  he  trembled  during  the  action,  furnifh  him 
with  topics  of  converfation,  and  fources  of  pleafure, 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

Reflection  is  the  propereft  employment,  and  the 
fweetefl  fatisfaction,  in  a  rational  old  age.  Deftitute  of 
Itrength  and  vigour,  necefiary  for  bodily  exertions,  and 
furnifhed  with  obfervations  by  experience,  the  old  man 
finds  his  greateft  pleafure  to  confift  in  wandering  in  ima- 
gination over  part  fcenes  of  delight,  in  recounting  the 
adventures  of  his  youth,  the  viciffitudes  of  human  life, 
and  the  public  events  to  whidrhe'is  proud  of  having 
been  an  eye-witnefs.  Of  fo  exalted  a  nature  are  thefe 
enjoyments,  that  theologifts  have  not  hefitated  to  aflert, 
that  to  recoiled  a  well-fpent-  life,  is  to  anticipate  the 
blifs  of  a  future  exiftence. 

The  profefibrs  of  philofophy,  who  will  be  acknow- 
ledged to  have  underftood  the  nature  of  true  and  fub- 
ftantial  pleafure  better  than  the  bufy,  the  gay,  and  the 
diflipated,  have  ever  fliewn  a  predilection  for  privacy 
and  folitude.  No  other  caufe  have  they  affigned  for 
their  conduct  in  forfaking  fociety,  than  that  the  noife 
and  hurry  of  the  world  is  incompatible  with  the  exertion 
of  calm  reafon  and  difpaffionate  reflection.  The 
apophthegm  of  that  antient,  who  faid,  "  he  was  never 
*'  lefs  alone  than  when  by  himfelf,"  is  not  to  be  confi- 
dered"  merely  as  an  epigrammatic  turn.  In  vain  was  it  to 
purfue  philofophy  in  the  Suburra  ;  me  was  only  to  be 
courted  with  fuccefs,  in  the  fequeftered  ^  made  of  rural 
retirement. 

Were  the  powers  of  reflection  cultivated  by  habit, 
mankind  would  at  all  times  be  able  to  derive  a  pleafure 
from  their  own  breafls,  as  rational  as  it  is  exalted.  To 
the  attainment  of  this  happinefs,  a  ftrict  adherence  to 
the  rules  of  virtue  is  neceflary ;  for  let  it  be  remem- 
bered, that  none  can  feel  the  pleafures  of  reflection, 
who  do  not  enjoy  the  peace  of  innocence. 

7  No.  CXII. 


No.  nz.  M    ORAL,     &c. 


No.  CXII.  HINTS  TO  THOSE  WHO  ARE 
DESIGNED  FOR  THE  PROFESSION  OF  THE 
LAW. 


THERE  is  no  order  in  the  community  more  con- 
temptible than  that  of  thofe  practitioners  in  the 
law,  who,  without  one  liberal  principle  of  juftice  or 
equity,  poflefs  a  ikill  in  little  elfe  but  quibbles,  and  ia 
thofe  points  by  which  villany  is  taught  to  proceed 
with  impunity,  cunning  enabled  to  elude  the  fpirit  by 
mifreprefenting  the  letter,  and  truth  perplexed,  ob- 
fcured,  and  loft,  in  the  mazes  of  chicanery,  It  is 
indeed  furprifmg,  that  many  who  call  themfelves  men 
of  honour,  and  who  profefs  to  have  had  a  liberal 
education,  fliould  allow  themfelves,  in  the  practice  of 
their  profeffion,  to  afTert  palpable  falfehood  in  order  to 
confound  the  clca-reft  evidence  ;  and  defend,  with  all  the 
appearance  of  fincere  conviftion,  what  they  know  to  be 
indefcnfible.  It  is  not  an  admifiible  apology  to  afTert, 
that  their  profeffion  requires  fuch  an  abafement ;  fora 
fimilar  j unification  might  be  offered  by  the  fharper 
or  the  highwayman.  There  are,  undoubtedly,  certain 
laws  of  honour  and  truth  eftablifhed  in  the  heart  of 
every  honeil  man,  of  which  no  regard  for  lucre,  and  no 
jcfuitical  pretence  of  profeffional  neceffity,  can  juftify 
the  infringement. 

There  fecms,  indeed,  to  be  a  very  unfortunate  error 
in  many  among  the  ftudents  of  the  law,  whp  value 
abilities  and  technical  knowledge  at  a  high  rate,  buc 
entertain  no  great  eiteeni  for  goodnefs  of  heart,  and 
integrity  of  conduct.  While  the  world  allows  them 
abilities  and  knowledge,  they  depend  with  fecurity  oft 
fuccefs,  though  they  fhould  be  notorioufly  mercenary  ia 
public,  and  debauched  in  private  life.  Indeed,  they 
have  had  living  examples  to  prove,  that  however  bad 
the  morals  of  the  man,  if  the  impudence  and  eloquence 
of  the  lawyer  are  approved,  he  may  have  what  briefs 
he  pleafes,  and  even  be  advanced  to  the  dignity  of  a 

VOL.  II.  G  Lord 


*£2  ESSAYS,  No.  112. 

Lord  Chancellor.  An  infamous  character,  blafted  with 
imputations  of  the  moft  atrocious  kind  in  the  walks  of 
private  and  domellic  life,  may  be  introduced,  by  his 
known  effrontery,  and  his  fuppofed  abilities,  to  that  dig- 
nified feat,  where  law  is  to  be  corrected  by  equity,  and 
where  the  confcience  of  the  judge  is  the  chief  controul. 

Whatever  be  the  abilities  of  a  man,  yet  if  he  be 
notorioufly  irregular  and  intemperate  in  the  violation 
of  thofe  laws  which  are  prior  to  all  human  laws,  he 
ought  not  to  be  promoted  to  any  offices  of  truft  and 
honour,  particularly  in  the  law.  Jf  the  governing  part 
of  a  nation  were  fincere  in  its  profeffion  of  a  belief  ia 
the  national  religion,  men  who  are  remarkable  for 
breaking  the  laws  of  that  religion,  would  be  at  leaft 
iregledied,  if  not  difgraced.  The  advancement  of  bad 
men  to  the  higheft  offices  in  the  law,  is  a  difgrace  to 
the  government,  and  an  injury  to  the  people,  whom  it 
greatly  corrupts  ;  not  only  by  the  example,  but  by 
leading  them  to  fuppofe,  that  the  governors  of  the 
nation,  whom  they  naturally  fuppofe  wifer  than  them- 
-felves,  confider  religion  and  morality  merely  as  engines 
of  ftate. 

Though,  therefore,  the  ftudent  may  fee  men  of 
infamous  characters  advanced  and  encouraged,  let  him 
not  be  deluded.  If  he  is  wife,  ke  will  Hill  pay  his 
greateft  attention  to  the  cultivation  of  a  pure  and  honeft 
heart ;  this  will  furnifh  him  with  more  fatisfadlion  than 
was  ever  derived  to  a  bad  man  from  the  infignia  and 
emoluments  of  office,  and  the  fees  beftowed  by  popular 
favour.  Whatever  practice  or  preferment  can  be  ac- 
quired confidently  with  this,  accept  with  gratitude. 
B«t  if  the  public,  or  the  rulers  of  the  nation,  dill  pre- 
fer the  bold  pretender,  whofe  appearance  and  abilities 
nrife  from  that  audacity  which  accompanies  a  bad  and 
unfeeling  heart,  .defpife  all  that  they  can  Jbeftow,  and 
remember  that  this  life  is  fhort,  and  that  there  is 
another;  that  this  world  is  the  place  of  probation,  and 
the  next  of  reward.  Remember  that  a  pure  heart,  a 
clear  confcience,  an  independent  fpirit,  and  a  foul 
that  fpurns  the  lucre  which  is  to  be  gained  by  unmanly 
lervility,  are  infinitely  fuperior  (confidered  only  as  they 
\tr-d  to  promote  happinefs)  to  the  polleflion  of  the 

teals, 


No.  iiz.  MORAL,     &c.  123 

feals,    with  their  ufual  appendages,    a   peerage  and  a 
penfion. 

With  refpedl  to  the  modes  of  preparation  for  this 
profeffion,  1  fee,  with  regret,  that  an  illiberal  method 
prevails,  which  confifts  in  confining  the  future  advocate, 
like  a  clerk  in  a  merchant's  counting-houfe,  to  the  defk 
of  fome  praftifing  lawyer,  and  teaching  him  the  or- 
dinary bufinefs  almoft  mechanically.  There  he  fits,  and 
copies  a  great  number  of  dry  formalities,  fuch  as,  if  he 
attended  to  them,  could  not  enlarge  his  mind  ;  fuch,  in- 
deed, as,  without  a  remarkable  dulnefs  of  difpofidon, 
he  cannot  attend  to.  After  labouring  for  feveral  years 
in  a  manual  employment,  as  fedentary,  and  fcarcely 
more  liberal  than  that  of  the  weaver  or  the  watchmaker, 
he  comes  forth  a  formidable  barrifter;  formidable,  in- 
deed, in  fome  refpedts,  as  he  has  probably  acquired  a 
good  deaJ  of  that  low  and  dirty  practice,  and  that  nar- 
row and  confined  mode  of  thinking,  which  a  liberal 
mind  would  defpife  too  much  to  be  able  to  acquire. 
He  is,  as  it  were,  a  fpider,  and  can  fpin  cobsvebs  in 
the  dark  and  foul  recedes  of  the  heart,  to  catch  thofe 
diminutive  objects,  which  a  more  generous  animal 
would  not  deign  to  enfnare. 

The  true  method  of  arriving  at  an  eligible  fpecies  of 
fminence  in  the  ftudy  of  the  law  is,  to  enlarge  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  mind  by  a  moft  comprehenfive  and  claffical 
education  ;  and  then  to  furnifh  it  with  fome  portion  of 
every  fpecies  of  human  knowledge.  A  general  and  en- 
larged philofophy,  moral,  natural,  and  theological, 
ought  to  form  the  firm  ban's  of  the  future  fuperftru&ure. 
On  this  mould  be  added  hiftory,  antient  and  modern  ; 
general  jurifprudence,  and  a  particular  acquaintance 
with  the  fpirit  of  laws  in  all  the  civilized  nations  of 
antiquity.  Long  and  accurate  obfervation  of  men  and 
manners  ought  to  be  added;  and  the  virtues  of  exem- 
plary benevolence  and  humanity  mould  complete  the 
fabric-  Such  mould  be  the  preparation; — what  it  is, 
\vc  have  already  feen.  But  fomctimes  even  the  toil  of  the 
writing-defk,  as  well  as  every  other  ferious  preparation, 
is  omitted,  and  the  ftudent  called  to  the  bar,  puts  a 
hrge  wig  over  his  powdered  hair  and  pig  tail,  and 
G  2  ftarts 


124  ESSAYS,  No.  113. 

ftarts  up  a  pleader  ;  ready  to  undertake  any  caufe  either 
of  property,  or  of  life. 

Whoever  has  read  the  works  of  Cicero,  will  remember 
how  great  a  (hare  of  learning  he  requires  in  his  orator, 
who  was,  indeed,  a  pleader,  or  advocate;  but  not  fuch 
a  pleader,  or  fuch  an  advocate,  as  many  of  thofe  who 
have  difgraced  the  modern  courts  of  judicature.  The 
great  ftatefmen  of  Rome  fupported  the  character  of 
lawyers  with  a  peculiar  dignity,  unknown  to  modern 
inftitutions.  Adorned  with  philofophy,  as  well  as  law, 
they  defcended  to  the  courts  to  defend  their  clients  ; 
not  with  the  hope  of  a  paltry  fee,  but  induced  by  the 
pure  motives  of  friend/hip  and  humanity  ;  by  a  defire  of 
doing  good,  and  a  regard  for  juftice.  Men,  it  is  true, 
muf!  live  by  their  profeflions  ;  and.  therefore,  the  dif- 
interefte-dnefs  of  the  antients,  who  had  other  refources, 
cannot  be  univerfally  imitated.  But,  furely,  in  an  age 
that  pretends  to  peculiar  illumination  and  philanthropy, 
and  in  a  people  who  have  long  profefled  a  moft  humane 
religion,  it  is  wonderful  to  find  men,  who  affume  fo 
important  a  profeffion,  ready  to  defend  any  fide  for  pay ; 
and  debafing  their  characters  by  an  affeftation  of  ex- 
treme libertinifm,  of  infidelity,  and  of  every  kind  of 
profligacy,  which  tends  to  harden  the  heart,  and  to 
deaden  the  feelings  of  humanity,  no  lefs  than  to  ftifle 
the  fenti men-is  of  true  honour. 


NO.CXIII.   ON  SOME  INCONVENIENCES  WHICH 
UNAVOIDABLY  ATTEND  LIVING  WRITERS, 


THE  compofition  of  a  book  has  often  been  com- 
pared to  the  furni filing  of  a  feaft,  in  which, 
whatever  art  may  have  been  exerted,  and  variety  pro- 
duced, it  feldom  happens  that  every  palate  is  equally 
pleafed.  Sometimes  the  difhes  are  not  drefled  and 
feafoned  as  they  ought  to  be;  ajid  fomedmes  the  organs 
of  fenfation  in  the  gueits  are  languid  and  indifpofed. 

No 


No.  113.  MORAL,    &c.  125 

No  work,  however  excellent,  ever  yet  appeared,  which 
was  not  blamed,  as  well  as  praifed,  by  many  ;  but  we 
hefitate  not  to  pronounce  that  good,  which  retains, 
during  a  confiderable  time,  a  majority  of  fuffrages  in 
its  favour.  Longinus,  very  reafonably,  makes  the  fa- 
vourable opinion  of  various  nations,  for  many  ages,  an 
infallible  criterion  of  an  author's  fingular  excellence. 
And  it  is  certain,  that  to  call  in  queftion  the  merits  of 
thofe  books  which  have  long  furvived  their  authors, 
contributes  more  to  difgrace  the  critic,  than  to  diminilh 
the  reputation  of  the  author. 

But  it  is  not  fo  with  living  writers.  They  labour 
under  peculiar  difadvantages ;  not  only  from  the  dif- 
ficulty of  arriving  at  diftinition  after  fo  many  illurtrious 
predecefibrs,  but  from  the  prejudices  and  the  envy  of 
their  equals  and  contemporaries.  Men  have  always  felt 
an  inclination  to  exalt  departed  genius,  not  only  from 
a  fincere  admiration  of  it,  but  alfo  with  a  fecret  defue 
to  degrade  living  merit,  by  introducing  an  invidious 
comparifon.  No  one  afpires  at  the  diftin&ions  of  for- 
tune, or  civil  honours,  without  exciting  jealoufy  and 
envy.  It  would  be  therefore  unreafonable  to  fuppofe, 
that  literary  ambition  fhould  be  exempted  from  the 
attendants  of  all  ambition.  It  aims  at  peculiar  diftinc- 
tion,  and  muft  therefore  excite  peculiar  oppofition. 

There  never  yet  was  a  moral  writer,  however  fincere, 
whofe  life  and  external  manners  correfponded,  in  every 
refpecl,  with  the  dignity  of  his  writings ;  and  who  did 
not,  in  fome  degree,  difappoint  thofe  who  were  led, 
by  the  admiration  of  his  works,  to  approach  his  perfon, 
;md  to  feek  his  company  and  converfation  in  the  ordi- 
nary fcenes  of  familiar  life.  Too  high  an  expectation  is 
ufually  formed  of  him  ;  and  we  do  not  confider,  that  in 
his  book  we  furvey  only  the  picture  of  his  mind ;  a  pic- 
ture, which  is  ufually  fullied  and  deformed  by  the  crazy 
frame  in  which  it  is  confined.  When  he  fat  down  to 
write,  his  foul  was  probably  in  its  proper  (late  ;  all 
fpiritual,  and  all  contemplative.  No  fooner  ha?  he 
laid  afide  his  pen,  and  departed  from  his  library,  thsn 
he  is  neceflarily  engaged  in  the  common  purfuits  cf 
mankind  ;  and  difplays,  like  them,  many  frailties,  and 
many  of  thofe  faults  which  he  has  very  fmcerely  con- 
G  3  demned 


126  ESSAYS,  No.  iij. 

oemned  in  his  moral  di/Tertations.  But  when  a  fpec- 
tator,  unacquainted  with  life,  manners,  and  the  incon- 
.ftancy  of  the  human  heart,  beholds  this  difference 
between  the  writer's  book  and  his  behaviour,  he  too 
precipitately  and  feverely  indulges  his  cenfure,  and 
learns  to  defpife  him,  whom,  at  a  diftance,  he  admired. 
Thus  are  enemies  and  calumniators  multiplied,  without 
any  other  failings  en  the  part  of  the  injured  perfon, 
than  the  common  imbecilities  attendant  on  the  molt 
improved  ftate  of  human  nature.  Foibles  and  errors, 
which  woujd  fcarcely  be  noticed  in  ethers,  are  not  only 
remarked  in  him.,  but  remembered  and  related  in  com- 
pany as  matter  of  entertainment.  Even  his  fir.cerity 
is  doubted,  and  the  writer  is  lowered  by  the  imper- 
fections of  the  man  ;  though  the  imperfections  ::':c  only 
the  common  characteristics  of  humanity.  If  lie  has 
written  againft  avarice  or  ambition,  and  happens,  by 
honeftinduftry  or  good  fortune,  to  gain  money  or  promo- 
tion, he  is  immediately  reprefented  as  a  hypocrite;  not- 
wuhftanding  he  may  have  a  family  dependent  upon  him 
for  fupport,  or  may  have  worn  himfelf  out  in  the  fervice 
of  the  public,  without  feeking  or  gaining  any  other 
emolument  than  what  may  aiiord  him  an  humble  and 
quiet  retreat  in  his  old  age. 

It  is  not  eafy  to  write,  without  fometimes  appearing 
to  affume  an  air  of  fuperiority.  Moral  precepts  would 
often  be  ineffectual,  if  they  were  not  enforced  in  a  ftyle, 
which,  though  by  no  means  dogmatical,  is  yet,  in  a. 
due  degree,  authoritative.  The  neighbours,  and  the 
familiar  acquaintance  of  the  moralift,  who  are  accuf- 
tcmed  to  eftimate  importance  by  property,  and  to  judge 
of  the  weight  of  a  man's  opinions  by  the  weight  of  his 
purfe,  are  offended  to  find  him,  who  has  not  a  vote  in 
a  county-meeting,  nor  an  acre  of  arable  or  pafture  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  daiing  to  exprefs  himfelf  with  as 
much  freedom,  as  if  he  were  animated  with  the  con- 
fcioufnefs  of  keeping  a  pack  of  fox  hounds,  or  had  con- 
fiderable  influence  at  the  election  of  a  knight  of  the 
{hire.  Neverthelefs,  if  what  he  writes  be  true,  truth 
being  great,  he  who  is  armed  with  it  will  certainly  pre- 
vail. Refiftance  or  contradiction  will  be  ineffectual. 
Nothing,  therefore,  remains  but  ridicule  and  detraction 

to 


No.  113.  MORAL,    ft*  127 

to  fap  the  fortrefs,  which  is  proof  again  ft  afTault.  The 
writer,  therefore,  is  reprefented  by  the  neighbouring 
gentlemen  as  an  oddity,  a  melancholy  reclufe,  and  per- 
haps a  little  cracked  ;  both  he  and  his  family  are  pitied 
by  the  humane  ladies,  for  being  perpetually  confined  to 
rmiily  books,  and  total  ftrangers  to  all  true  pleafure, 
Eetvveen  the  fippings  of  the  tea,  and  the  dealing  of  the 
cards,  much  crittcifm  is  difplayed,  in  which,  it  is  not 
eafy  to  determine  which  is  the  more  confpicnou?,  ig- 
norance or  ill-nature.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  ladies, 
who  can  hardly  write  their  names,  or  indite  a  love-letter, 
without  Entick's  fpclling  dictionary,  to  decide  on  the 
merit  of  a  celebrated  poem,  or  any  other  new  publica- 
tion, with  all  the  authority  of  an  Ariftotle,  or  the  foolifli 
virulence  of  a  Zoilus.  And  who,  indeed,  can  con- 
trovert a  remark,  however  injudicious  or  malignant, 
when  it  proceeds  from  lips  which  add  a  grace  and  fweeN 
nefs  to  all  they  utter?  And  even  the  veteran  virgin  may 
be  allowed  toconfole  hen'clf,  i:i  th?  intervals  of  fcruidaj,. 
with  the  fe verity  of  literary  criticifm.  It  mull  indeed 
be  owned,  that  many  lies  and  fal.'e  cen fares  en  charac- 
ters are  publifl.eJ  to  the  world  at  the  tea  and  the  card- 
table  ;  but  there  is  this  comfort,  that  whenever  it  is 
known  whence  they  originate,  they  are  fu  fibred,  by  all 
candid  and  fenfible  perfons,  to  drop,  ftill-born,  from, 
their  prolific  parents.  Yet,  fometimeps,  they  llruggle 
into  life,  and  are  able  to  murder  many  a  reputation  be- 
fore their  own  final  extinction. 

Every  thing  excellent  is  to  be  paid  for  at  a  certain 
price  of  inconvenience  or  difficulty.  The  calumnies 
of  envy,  ignorance,  and  impertinence,  muft  be  fuf- 
tained  by  him  who  endeavours,  by  worthy  means,  to- 
procure  the  eileem  of  the  worthy.  He  muft  weigh  the 
jpraifes  againft  the  cenfures,  and  enjoy  the  predominant 
applaufe,  while  he  neglects  the  fevere  remarks  of  im- 
pertinence or  ill-temper,  as  trifles  light  as  air.  No 
truth  has  been  more  repeatedly  uttered,  than  that  no- 
thing in  this  fnblunary  ftate  is,  in  every  refpeft,  what 
we  wifh  it.  We  muft  then  learn  to  fubmit  to  neceflity, 
aad  turn  our  attention  from  our  evils,  to  our  advan- 
tages. After  all  our  complaints,  Providence  is  ufualiy 
found  kind  and  inapartial  ;  and,  if  we  poflefs  but 
G  4  humility 


iz8  ESSAYS,  No.  114. 

humility  and  patience,  we  fhall  difcover,  under  our 
moft  difagreeable  fit  nation,  fome  copious  fource  of 
placid  enjoyment.  The  ill  ufage  of  the  world  will  re- 
coil from  the  heart,  which  is  Ihielded  with  faith  and 
innocence,  as  the  billows  are  reverberated  from  the 
rock. 

Whatever  difficulties  or  injuries  a  writer  may  fuftain, 
he  mny  cor.fole  himfelf,  if  he  has  always  taken  the  part 
of  truth  and  virtue,  that  he  has  employed  the  ta- 
lents which  God  gave  him,  in  a  manner  at  lead  in- 
ofrenfive  ;  and  that,  it  is  probable,  many,  in  the 
great  mafs  of  mankind,  may  poflefs  a  kindred  fpi- 
rit,  and  at  feme  favourable  moment  may  receive 
pleafure  and  advantage  from  his  lucubrations,  even 
when  he  is  united  with  the  duft  from  which  he  was 
taken,  and  become  equally  infenfible  to  cenfure  or 
applaufe. 


No,  CXIV.  ON  THE  OBLIGATIONS  WHICH 
LEARNING  OWES  TO  THE  CHRISTIAN  RE- 
LIGION. 


MANY  among  thofe  who  have  made  the  greatefl 
pretenfions  to  learning  have  profefTed  themfelves 
enemies  to  Revelation.  It  is  not,  indeed,  difficult  to 
account  for  their  rejection  of  a  religion  which  is  all 
humility,  and  by  no  means  calculated  to  pleafe  fuch 
as  confider  the  applaufe  of  men  as  the  moft  valuable 
object,  and  who  pride  themfelves  on  the  infallibility  of 
their  own  intellects.  To  the  bold,  the  conceited,  and 
the  half-learned  pretender  to  philofophy,  who  is  weak 
enough  to  think  his  reafon  commenfurate  to  every  ob- 
ject which  falls  under  its  notice,  that  fyftem,  which 
requires  the  exercife  of  faith  more  than  of  reafon,  ap- 
pears, as  the  fcriptures  themfelves  obferve,  foolifhnefs. 
Pride,  and  a  very  filly  kind  of  pride,  fuch,  indeed,  as 
arifes  from  narrow  views  of  things,  and  an  ignorance  of 
human  nature,  is  the  foundation  of  infidelity. 

It 


No.  114.  M  O  R  A  I,     &c.  129 

It  is,  however,  no  lefs  ungrateful,  than  foolifli  and 
wicked,  in  the  Tons  of  learning,  to  devote  their  abilities 
to  the  extermination  of  the  national  religion.  For  it  is 
really  true,  that  all  the  antient  learning  which  now 
remains,  was  preferved  by  fome  peculiar  circumftances 
attending  the  propagation  of  Chrillianity ;  and,  1  believe, 
it  will  be  thought  very  probable,  that  if  the  antient 
languages,  and  the  books  written  in  them,  had  been 
entirely  loft,  the  civilized  nations  of  Europe  would 
have  (till  continued  in  a  ftateof  darknefs  and  barbarifm. 
Real  fuperftition  would  then,  indeed,  have  reigned 
triumphant ;  and  the  philofopher,  as  he  calls  himfelf, 
who  is  now  writing  down  Chriflianity,  would  have  been 
trembling  at  witches  and  goblins,  fpells  and  enchant- 
ments. He  makes  ufe  of  that  very  light,  which  has  di- 
reeled  his  fteps  in  the  paths  of  learning,  to  difcover  the 
molt  probable  means  of  extinguishing  the  fource  of  all 
illumination. 

I  was  led  into  this  train  of  reflections  by  the  perufal 
of  a  charge  of  a  late  very  learned  archdeacon  of  London, 
in  which  he  evinces,  that  our  Saviour  fpoke  moll  truly 
in  more  fenfes  than  one,  when  he  faid  of  hiinfelf, 

*'    I   AM   THE    LIGHT   OF   THE   WORLD." 

When  any  fpecies  of  literary  indiiflry  is  confider- 
ed  as  a  duty  founded  on  religion,  care  will  be  ta- 
ken to  preferve  it.  It  might  otherwife,  from  the 
indolence  and  infirmity  of  the  human  mind,  have 
been  lolt  amidft  revolutions,  perfecutions,  diflrefs,  and 
the  fury  of  conquelt.  In  every  difficulty,  the  Chriflians 
fled  for  comfort  to  their  fcriptures,  and  watched  over 
them  with  peculiar  vigilance.  The  Septuagint  pre- 
ferved, in  the  worit  times,  a  knowledge  of  Greek  ;  and 
the  Latin  tranflations,  which  were  multiplied  with 
avidity,  refcued  the  Latin  language  from  a  total  obli- 
vion. Jofephus  was  ftudied,  and  therefore  preferved 
by  the  Chriftians  more  carefully  than  by  the  Jews ;  and 
the  neceffity  of  Greek  for  the  underftanding  of  the  New 
Teftament,  caufcd  that  language  not  only  to  be  faved 
from  the  ravages  of  time,  but  alfo  to  be  ftudied  with 
devout  attention. 

The  Fathers  of  the  church  wrote  in  Greek  during 

three  centuries  j  and  at  a  time  when  the  Latin  language 

G  5  was 


130  ESSAYS,  No.  114. 

was  gradually  decaying,  the  Latin  fathers  contributed 
fomething  to  its  reiteration  ;  and  wrote,  as  well  as  their 
coeval  writers  among  the  Pagans,  not  indeed  with 
Auguftan  elegance,  but  ftill  well  enough  to  preferve  a 
fkill  in  the  conltrudlion  and  vocabulary  of  the  lan- 
guage. 

A  confiderable  knowledge  of  hiftory,  and  fomething 
.of  chronology  and  philofophy,  was  necefTary  in  ftudying 
and  defending  the  fcriptures,  even  in  the  earlieft  ages ; 
and  many  Chriftians  appeared  well  flcilled  in  thefe  parts  of 
learning,  at  a  time  when  they  were  generally  neglected. 
Religion  and  confcience  operated  as  a  ftimulus,  when 
all  other  motives  were  infufiicient  to  retard  the  mind  in 
its  fwift  progrefs  down  the  declivity. 

With  a  view,  and  folely  with  a  view,  to  enable  ec- 
clefiaih'cs  to  read  and  underftand  the  fcriptures,  even  in 
the  moil  difmal  night  of  ignorance,  there  were  fome 
places  of  inflruclion  in  cathedrals  and  monafteries,  in, 
which  the  embers  of  literature,  if  we  may  venture  to 
ufe  thatexpreflion,  were  preferved  from  total  extinction  ; 
in  which  a  fpark  lay  latent,  which  was  one  day  to  re- 
lume alight  to  lighten  the  univerfe. 

The  little  learning  of  thofe  unfortunate  ages,  though 
it  did  not  enable  the  perfons  who  pofTeffed  it  .to  taite 
and  underiland  the  beauties  of  the  antient  poets  and 
philofophers,  yet  gave  them  fome  idea  of  the  value  of 
books  in  general,  and  enabled  them  to  tranfcribe,  with 
tolerable  accuracy,  even  what  they  did  not  accurately 
underftand.  Thus  were  thofe  ineftimable  treafures  of 
all  elegance  and  pleafing  knowledge,  the  old  Greek 
and  Latin  authors,  handed  down  to  happier  ages  ;  to 
thofe  who  were  able  to  unlock  them,  and  pour  out  their 
riches  for  the  general  utility.  Nor  are  we  indebted  to 
Chriirians  for  the  claffics  only  ;  but  alfo  for  the  Roman 
law,  and  the  codes  of  Juftinian  and  Theodofius.  Books, 
which  were  deftroyed  by  ignorant  and  angry  kings  and 
conquerors,  found  a  fafe  afylum  in  religious  houfes  ; 
and  even  Monkery,  which  has  been  juftly  reprobated 
as  one  of  the  follies  of  human  nature,  became,  under 
the  direction  of  Providence,  the  inftrument  of  many  of 
thofe  blcflings  which  now  contribute  greatly  to  the  hap- 
pinefs  and  dignity  of  an  enlightened  empire. 


No.  114.         MORAL,      &c.  13* 

The  revival  of  learning,  as  it  is  termed,  or  its  eman- 
cipation from  churches  and  monafteries,  and  genera^ 
difFufion  over  the  world,  is  greatly  owing  to  the  efforts 
of  ecclefiaftics.  There  arofe,  in  that  aufpicious  morn- 
ing, a  conflellation  of  polite  and  profound  Chriftian, 
fcholars,  whofe  effulgence  has  fcarcely  been  out- 
fhone  by  any  fucceeding  luminaries  in  the  literary" 
horizon. 

The  beft  fchol-ars  of  modern  times,  not  only  in  theo- 
logy, but  in  every  part  of  human  learning,  have  been 
Chriftian  divines.  They  were  led  by  their  purfuit  of 
religious  knowledge,  into  the  collateral  paths  of  philo- 
fophy,  philology,  and  all  elegant  and  ufeful  li- 
terature. 

It  is  to  the  piety  of  Chriflians  that  we  owe  the  vene- 
rable foundations  of  fchools  and  colleges  ;  thofe  inftitu- 
tions,  which,  though  they  have  often  been  perverted,, 
have  ftill  kept  the  light  burning  like  the  veftal  fire,  and 
handed  the  torch  from  one  generation  to  another 
like  the  runners  in  the  torch-race.  It  was  the  love  of 
Chrift  which  taught  thofe  towers  to  rife  on  the  banks  of 
the  Cam  and  the  Ifis,  and  planted  feminariesof  learning 
in  every  confiderable  town  throughout  the  kingdom. 

"  To  the  gofpel  then,"  fays  the  learned  divine  who 
fuggefted  this  fubjeft,  "  and  to  thofe  who  embraced 
it,  are  due  our.  grateful  acknowledgments  for  the- 
learning  that  is  at  prefcnt  in  the  world.  The 
infidels,  educated  in  Chriftian  countries,  owe  what 
learning  they  have  to  Chriftianity,  and  aft  the  part 
of  thofe  brutes,  which,  when  they  have  fucked  the 
dam,  turn  about  and  ftrike  her." 


C  fl  No.  C.XV. 


132  ESSAYS,  No.  115. 

No.    CXV.       CURSORY      REMARKS      ON      THE 
LIFE    AND    WRITINGS    OF    DR.  JORTIN. 


THE  mind  feels  a  fecret  complacency  in  con- 
templating characters  eminent  for  virtue,  learning, 
and  religion  ;  and  there  are  few  who  are  not  delighted, 
as  well  as  inftrufted  by  the  praifes  beftowed  on  de- 
parted merit.  Notwithstanding  the  depravity  of  human 
nature,  virtue  ftill  appears  amiable  to  the  vicious,  and 
knowledge  to  the  ignorant.  Experience,  indeed,  feems 
to  confirm  the  opinion  of  Plato,  thatgoodnefs,  exclufive 
of  its  collateral  advantages,  is  poffeffed  of  charms  ir- 
refiitibly  captivating. 

A  review  of  the  life  of  the  late  Dr.  Jortin  cannot 
but  fuggeft  the  moft  pleafmg  reflections.  As  a  poet, 
a  divine,  a  philofopher,  and  a  man,  he  ferved  the 
caufe  of  religion,  learning,  and  morality.  There  are, 
indeed,  many  writers  whole  reputation  is  more  tiiffufed 
among  the  vulgar  and  illiterate,  but  few  will  be  found 
whofe  names  ftand  higher  than  Dr.  Jortin's  in  the 
eileem  of  the  judicious.  His  Latin  poetry  is  claffically 
elegant.  His  difcourfes  and  difl'ertations  fenfible,  in- 
genious, and  argumentative.  His  remarks  on  ecclefiaf- 
tical  hiftory  intereiting  and  impartial.  His  fermons 
replete  with  found  fenfe  and  rational  morality,  expreffed 
in  a  ftyle  fimple,  pure,  and  perfpicuous. 

Simplicity  of  ftyle  is  a  grace,  which,  though  it  may 
not  captivate  at  firft  fight,  is  fure  in  the  end  to  give 
permanent  fatisfaftion.  It  does  not  excite  admiration, 
but  it  raifes  efleem.  It  does  not  warm  to  rapture, 
bat  it  foothes  to  complacency.  Unfkilful  writers  feldom 
aim  at  this  excellence.  They  imagine,  that  what  is  na- 
tural and  common  cannot  be  beautiful.  Every  thing 
in  their  compofitions  muft  be  ftrained,  every  thing  af- 
fcfted :  but  Dr.  Jortin  had  ftudied  the  antients,  and 
perhaps  formed  himfelf  on  the  model  of  Xenophon. 
He  wrote  on  fubjefts  of  morality,  and  morality  is  founded 


No.  1 1 5.  MORA   L,    &c.  133 

on  reafon,  and  reafon  is  always  cool  and  difpnffionate. 
A  florid  declamation,  embellifhed  with  rhetorical  figures, 
and  animated  with  pathetic  defcription,  may  indeed 
amufe  the  fancy,  and  raife  a  tranfient  emotion  in  the 
heart;  but  rational  difcourfe  alone  can  convince  the  un- 
derftanding,  and  reform  theconducl. 

The  firtt  efforts  of  genius  have  commonly  been  in 
pcetry.  Unreftiained  by  the  frigidity  of  argument, 
and  the  confinement  of  rules,  the  young  mind  gladly 
indulges  the  flights  of  imagination.  Cicero,  as  well  as 
many  other  antient  philofophers,  orators,  and  historians, 
is  known  to  have  facriflced  to  the  Mufes  in  his  earlier 
productions.  Dr.  Jortin  adds  to  the  number  of  thofe 
who  confirm  the  obfervation.  In  his  Lu/ui  Poztici,  one 
of  the  firlt  of  his  works,  are  united  claffical  language, 
tender  fentiment,  and  harmonious  verfe.  Among  the 
modern  Latin  poets,  there  are  few  who  do  not  yield 
to  Dr.  Jortin.  His  Sapphics,  on  the  ftory  of  Bacchus 
and  Ariadne,  are  eafy,  elegant,  and  poetical.  The 
little  ode,  in  which  the  calm  life  of  the  philofopher  is 
compared  to  th;  gentle  llream  gliding  through  a  filent 
grove,  is  highly  pleafing  to  the  mind,  and  is  perfectly 
elegant  in  the  cempomicn.  The  Lyrics  are  indeed  all 
excellent.  The  poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul 
is  ingenious,  poetical,  and  an  exacl.  imitation  of  the  ftyle 
of  Lucretius.  In  fhort,  the  whole  colleclion  is  fuch 'as 
would  fcarcely  have  difgraced  a  Roman  in  the  age  of  an 
Auguftus. 

Time,  if  it  cool  not  the  fire  of  imagination,  cer- 
tainly ftrengthens  the  powers  of  the  judgment.  As  our 
author  advanced  in  life,  he  cultivated  his  reafon  rather 
than  his  fancy,  and  defined  from  his  efforts  in  poetry,  to 
exert  his  abilities  in  the  difquifitions  of  criticifm.  His 
obfervations  on  one  of  the  fathers  of  Englifh  poetry, 
need  but  to  be  more  generally  known,  in  order  to  be 
more  generally  approved. 

Clafilcal  productions  are  rather  amufing  than  inftruc- 
tive.  His  works  of  this  kind  are  all  juvenile,  and  na- 
turally flowed  from  a  claflical  education.  Thefe,  how- 
ever, were  but  preparatory  to  his  higher  defigns,  and 
foon  gave  way  to  the  more  important  enquiries  which 
6  were 


134-  ESSAYS,  No.  nj. 

were  peculiar  to  his  profeflion.  His  difcourfes  on  the 
Chriftian  Religion,  one  of  the  firft  fruits  of  his  theolo- 
gical purfuit?,  abound  with  that  found  fenfe  and  folid 
argument,  which  entitle  their  author  to  a  rank  very  near 
the  celebrated  Grotius. 

His  diflertations  are  equally  remarkable  for  tafte, 
learning,  originality,  and  ingenuity. 

His  remarks  on  Ecclefiaftical  hiilory  are  full  of  manly 
fenfe,  ingenious  ftriclures,  and  profound  erudition.  The 
work  is  highly  beneficial  to  mankind,  as  it  reprefents,  in 
its  proper  light,  that  fuperftition  which  difgraced  human 
nature,  and  gives  a  right  fenfe  of  the  advantages  derived 
from  religious  reformation.  He  every  where  exprefles 
himfelf  with  peculiar  vehemence  againil  the  infatuation 
of  bigotry  and  fanaticifm.  Convinced  that  true  hap- 
pinefs  is  founded  on  a  right  ufe  of  the  reafoning  powers, 
he  makes  it  the  fcope  of  all  his  religious  works,  to  lead 
mankind  from  the  errors  of  imagination,  to  the  dictates 
of  difpa(T:onate  reafon. 

Polthumoos  publications,  it  has  been  remarked,  are 
nfually  inferior  in  merit  to  thofe  which  are  publifhed 
during  an  author's  life.  And,  indeed,  the  opinion 
feems  pkufihle  ;.  as  it  may  be  prefumed,  that  an  au- 
thor's reafon  for  not  pu'o'ifhing  his  works,  is  a  con- 
fcioufnefs  of  their  inferiority.  The  Sermons  of  Dr. 
Jortin  are,  however,  an  exception.  Good  fenfe  and 
found  morality  appear  in  them,  not,  indeed,  drefledout 
in  the  meretricious  ornaments  of  a  florid  flyle,  but  in 
all  the  manly  force,  and  funple  graces,  of  natural  elo- 
quence. The  fame  caprice,  which  raifes  to  reputation 
thofe  trifling  difcourfes  which  have  nothing  to  recom- 
mend them  but  a  prcttinefs  of  fancy,  and  a  flowery 
language,  will  again  confign  them  to  oblivion  :  but  the 
fermons  of  Dr.  Jortin  will  always  be  read  with  pieafure 
and  edification. 

The  tranfition  from  an  author's  writings  to  his  life,  is 
frequently  difadvantageoiis  to  his  character.  Dr.  Jortin, 
however,  when  no  longer  confidered  as  an  author,  but 
as  a  man,  is  far  from  being  lefiened  in  our  opinion.  A 
fimplicity  of  manners,  an  inoffenfive  behaviour,  an  uni- 
ver&l  benevolence,  candour,  modcily,  and  good  fenfe,. 

were 


No.  116.  MORAL,     Sec.  135 

were  his  characterises.  Though  his  genius,  and  love 
of  letters,  led  him  to  choofe  the  ftill  vale  of  fequeftered 
life,  yet  was  his  merit  confpicuous  enough  to  attract  the 
notice  of  a  certain  primate  \vho  did  honour  to  epifco- 
pacy.  Unknown  by  perfonal  acquaintance,  and  unre- 
commended  by  the  felicitation  of  friends,  or  the  inter- 
pofition  of  power,  he  was  prefented,  by  Archbifhop 
Herring,  to  a  valuable  benefice  in  London,  as  a  reward 
for  his  exertions  as  a  fchclar  and  a  divine.  Some  time 
after  he  became  chaplain  to  a  late  bifhop  of  London, 
who  gave  him  the  vicarage  of  Kensington,  and  appoint- 
ed him  archdeacon  of  his  diocefe.  This  was  all  the 
preferment  he  had,  nor  had  he  this  till  he  was  advanced 
in  life.  He  did  not,  however,  repine.  Thus  he  fpeaks 
of  himfelf :  — "  Not  to  his  erudition  —  but  to  his  con- 
"  flant  love  and  purfuit  of  it — he  owes  a  fituation  and 
"  a  ftation  better  than  he  expedted,  and  as  good  as  he 
"  ought  to  deiire." 


No.  CXVI.  ON  THE  UNION  OF  EXTRAVA- 
GANCE IN  TRIFLES  AND  VICE,  WITH 
PARSIMONY  IN  ALL  THE  TRULY  HO- 
NOURABLE, USEFUL,  AND  NECESSARY  EX- 
FENCES. 


NO  appearance  in  the  moral  world  is  more  remark- 
able, than  that  combination  which  is  often  ob- 
ierved  in  the  fame  character,  of  avarice  with  profufion, 
of  meannefs  with  liberality.  Vanity,  felfifhnefs,  and  a 
want  of  ferious  principles,  are  llriking  circumftances 
in  the  manners  of  the  prefent  age  ;  and  as  vanity  leads 
to  expenfive  oftentation,  fo  felnthnefs,  and  want  of 
principle,  have  a  natural  tendency  to  produce  covet- 
oufnefs  and  rapacity.  Very  few  reftraints  are  allowed 
to  operate  on  the  modes  of  acquiring  or  of  laving 
money,  except  the  fear  of  detection.  There  is  fcarcely 
5  any 


136  ESSAYS,  No.  116. 

any  meannefs  or  bafenefs  to  which  many  perfon?,  who 
make  the  greateft  (hew  in  drefs,  furniture,  and  equipage, 
are  not  ready  to  fubmit  under  the  certainty  of  conceal- 
ment. 

The  time  has  been,  when  a  great  family,  refiding  in 
a  great  houfe  of  a  village,  was  confidered  as  a  blefling 
to  all  the  neighbouring  country.  The  poor  were  em- 
ployed in  adorning  and  improving  the  grounds  all 
about  it.  The  table  in  the  parlour  was  always  open 
for  the  reception  of  the  gentlemen  who  refided  within, 
ten  miles  of  the  houfe  j  and  the  kitchen  afforded  warmth 
and  plenty  to  the  poor  and  induftrious  tenant  or  la- 
bourer. The  rich  man  reiided  in  the  houfe  of  his 
fathers,  and  fpent  his  money  among  thofe  who  earned 
it  for  him  by  the  fw-/at  of  their  brows.  But,  according 
to  the  modern  fyftem  of  fafhionable  manners,  fuch  a 
kind  of  life  would  be  deemed  intolerably  dull,  as  well 
as  antiquated  and  vulgar.  The  family,  therefore,  fpend 
as  littie  time  as  poflible  at  the  noble  feat  of  their  an- 
ceftors,  but  haften  to  the  fea-fide,  or  the  watering-places, 
where  they  hire  a  littie  hut,  or  cabin,  and  lavilh  their 
money  on  Grangers,  with  few  returns  of  gratitude,  or  of 
rational  fatisfaftion.  The  farmer,  who  lives  in  their 
native  village,  returning  weary  from  his  plough,  (hakes 
his  head  as  he  pa(Tes  the  cold  kitchen,  and  turns  with  pity 
and  contempt  from  the  fmokelefs  roof.  The  fervants 
are  pinched,  and  even  envy  the  comparative  plenty  and 
independence  of  the  next  cottagers.  The  whole  country 
rings  with  reports  of  the  meannefs  and  poor  living  at  the 
great  houfe.  In  the  mean  time,  the  lord  and  lady,  the 
baronet  or  efquire,  with  their  refpe&ive  families,  are 
figuring,  as  it  is  called,  in  all  the  profufion  of  emulous 
extravagance,  at  Bath,  or  Brighthelmftone.  While  they 
grudge  the  bread  and  cheefe  which  is  confumed  in  their 
own  houfe,  or  refufe  to  contribute  to  a  brief,  or  any 
charitable  inftitution  among  their  poor  neighbours  at 
home,  they  fubfcribe,  moil  liberally,  to  an  infamous 
mafter  of  the  ceremonies,  and  to  every  famionable 
amufement;  they  give  feaits  to  ftrangcrs  whom  they 
{hall  never  fee  any  more,  and  whofe  principal  recom- 
mendation is,  that  they  appear,  from  their  external 

fplendour, 


No.  116.  MORAL,    Sec.  137 

fplcndour,  not  to  want  afliftance.  Their  vanity  is  gra- 
tified in  feeing  the  great  and  the  rich  at  their  table  ;  and 
what  fignifies  it,  they  think,  if  the  wretches  at  home, 
whom  nobody  knows,  ftarve  and  rot  on  the  dunghills 
whence  they  originated.  They  grudge  the  poor  even 
fmall  beer  in  their  own  houfes;  but  drench  every  rich 
gueft,  who  vifits  them  at  their  lodgings,  with  champagne 
and  burgundy.  How  fhall  we  account  for  fuch  incon- 
ftilency,  but  by  fuppofing  that  thefe  perfonages  poffefs 
large  eftates  and  little  fouls,  immenfe  vanity  and  dimi- 
nutive underftandings ;  and  that  the  badnefs  is  only  ex- 
ceeded by  the  meannefs  of  their  hearts  ? 

Jt  is  eafy  to  obferve  perfons  of  this  defcription,  who 
will  not  hefitate  to  expend  many  hundreds  in  drefs 
alone,  but  who,  when  a  book  is  praifed  in  their 
prefence,  will  fpare  no  trouble  in  finding  fomebody  of 
whom  they  may  borrow  it,  alleging,  in  excufe,  that 
books  are  fo  dear,  it  is  impoflible  to  buy  every  thing 
that  comes  out.  The  price  of  the  book  mall  be  three 
Shillings,  and  it  mall  contain  amufement  for  three 
weeks,  and  yet  they  will  not  buy  it  becaufe  it  would  be 
extravagant ;  though  they  will  not  fcruple  to  expend 
three  guineas,  any  night  in  the  week,  for  three  hours 
paftime  in  a  party  at  the  public  places  of  diverfion.  The 
milleners,  the  hair-dreflers,  the  perfumers  bills,  mall 
amount  to  many  hundreds  a  year  ;  but  five  pounds  ex- 
pended at  the  bookfeller's  would  be  downright  prodi- 
gality. Guineas  flow,  without  rettraint,  in  fubfcriptions 
to  balls,  concerts,  aflemblies ;  to  dancing-maflers,  mufic- 
mafters,  and  to  players :  but  when  the  parifh  lecturer's 
bock  is  brought,  or  the  Marine  Society,  or  the  Mag- 
dalen, or  the  Infirmary,  or  the  contribution  for  the 
Releafe  of  Prifoners  for  Small  Debts,  or  the  fufFerers  in 
Harbadoes,  or  the  prifoners  of  war,  are  recommended 
as  nt  objefts  to  receive  their  fuperfluities,  they  immedi» 
ately  look  grave,  complain  that  taxes  rife,  and  rents  fall  ; 
r.nd  aflert,  with  an  unfeeling  heart,  that  thefe  are  not 
times  to  admit  of  any  expencei  which  are  not  abfolutely 
neceflary. 

'I  he  education  of  their  children  ought  certainly  to  con- 
ftitute  one  of  the  firfl  cares  of  the  rich  ;  and  no  reafon- 
able  ex-pence  mould  be  withheld  in  the  accompliihment 

of 


I3«  ESSAYS,  No.  1 16. 

of  it.  But  there  are  many  great  families,  in  which  this 
is  one  of  the  finallell  articles  of  annual  expenditure. 

Indeed,  in  all  necefTaryand  laudable  expences,  a  de- 
gree of  frugality  is  difplayed  which  approaches  to  extreme 
meannefs  and  pzrrfimony.  The  poor  tradcfmen  who  fup- 
ply  the  ordinary  articles  of  domeitic  confumption,  are 
not  only  denied  their  price,  but,  after  every  abatement, 
are  obliged  to  wait  an  unreafonable  time  for  their  mo- 
ney. So  far  are  fuch  perfons  from  pofleffing  an  inclina- 
tion to  be  generous,  that  it  grieves  them  to  be  juft.  But 
though  they  who  furnifh  commodities,  without  which 
life  cannot  be  fupporteu,  are  il!-ufed  and  defrauded, 
whoever  can  fupply  any  circumftances  of  drefs,  equi- 
page, luxury,  by  which  felfimnefs  and  vanity  may  be 
gratified,  are  profufely  and  immediately  rewarded.  Men 
of  lettersr  or  ingenuity  in  the  profefiions,  are  kept  at  a 
diftance  ;  but  the  door  is  always  open  to  players,  and  to 
figniors  and  figmoras.  Chaolains  and  tutors  are  out 
of  fafhion  ;  but  their  place  is  abundantly  fupplied  by 
fiddlers,  pipers,  caperers,  and  fcaramouches.  A  dancing 
or  muiic-mailer,  who  can  enable  the  young  ladies  to  dif- 
play  a  fine  finger  or  a  fine  foot,  is  immediately  confider- 
ed  as  the  belt  friend  of  the  family,  made  a  companion, 
invited  to  the  table,  paid  extravagantly,  and  compli- 
mented with  thanks  and  prefents  ;  neither  is  it  wonder- 
ful, if  the  young  ladies  fall  in  love  with  thefe  fine 
gentlemen,  and  marry  them  ;  fince  they  appear  both  ia 
their  own  and  their  parents  eyes,  to  poflefs  the  fummit 
of  all  human  excellence.  As  to  the  perfon  who  may  be 
employed  to  form  their  minds,  he  is  ufually  engaged 
from  the  recommendation  of  cheapnefs,  and  is,  for  the 
moft  part,  made  an  object  cf  ridicule,  becaafe  he  has 
not  the  air  of  Noverre  and  Gallini. 

An  enormous  fortune,  coniidered  in  its  true  light,  is  a 
facred  truft,  and  intended  to  promote,  not  only  the  hap- 
pinefs  of  its  pofferTor,  but  of  all  with  whom  he  is  con- 
neded,  and  who  dcferve  his  beneficence.  The  time  has 
been,  when  the  poor  were  thought  to  have  a  claim  upon; 
that  fuperfluity,  which  is  now  lavifhed  on  the  mean  mi- 
niilcrs  to  luxury,  vice,  and  vain  oltentation.  We  read 
in  the  tablets  in  our  churches,  and  in  the  records  of  alt 
charitable  foundations,  that  people  of  the  higheit  faihion 


No.  117.  MORAL,    &c.  ijf 

were  of  opinion,  that  to  be  good  was  eflential  to  the  cha- 
rafter  of  true  gentility.  But  now,  if  we  were  to  afk 
the  reprefentative  of  a  rich  family,  where  he  had 'be- 
llowed the  fuperfluities  of  the  laft  year,  he  might  anfwer, 
that  he  had  depoiited  fome  (hare  of  it  in  the  pocket  of 
an  Italian,  who  had  the  extraordinary  merit  of  being 
able  to  ftand  longer  on  one  leg  than  the  reft  of  the  two 
legged  and  unfeathered  race.  He  might  anfwer,  that 
he  had  loft  it  at  the  gaming  table  ;  fpent  it  in  the  tavern 
and  brothel ;  fported  it  away  at  Newmarket ;  lavifhed 
it  on  dogs,  horfes,  jockies ;  and  left  the  poor  and  the 
deferving  to  the  care  of  Providence. 

That  Providence,  \vhofe  bleffings  he  abufes  and  per- 
verts, feldom  fails  to  punifh  his  ingratitude.  For  as  all 
his  external  circumilances  have  more  in  them  of  fhew 
than  of  folidity,  fo  alfo  have  all  his  boafixjd  enjoyment?, 
and  all  that  happinefs,  which  he  thinks  to  derive  from 
riches,  independently  of  their  proper  application. 


No.  CXVII.  ON  A  TASTE  FOR  THE  CULTI- 
VATION OF  FLOWERS,  AND  OF  BEAUTIFUL 
SHRUBS  AND  TREES. 


BEAUTY  of  every  kind  is  formed  to  captivate, 
and  there  is  this  peculiar  advantage  in  contem- 
plating the  beauties  of  vegetable  nature,  that  we  may 
permit  our  hearts  to  be  enfnared  by  them,  without  ap- 
prehenfion  of  a  dangerous  or  a  difhonourable  fervitude. 
A  tafte  for  the  beauties  of  vegetation  is  the  matk  of  a 
pure  and  innocent  mind,  and,  at  the  fame  time,  one  of 
the  beft  prefervatives  of  purity  rind  innocence.  It  diverts 
the  attention  from  the  turbulent  fcenes  of  folly,  and  fu- 
perinduces  a  placid  tranquillity,  highly  favourable  to 
the  gentler  virtues,  and  to  the  permanency  of  our  moil 
refined  enjoyments. 

I  have  often  been  furprifed  to  find  thofe,  who  poflefl- 
ed  a  very  acute  fufceptibility  of  artificial  or  literary 
grace,  and  were  powerfully  aire&ed  by  the  beauties  of 

a  poem, 


1*0  ESSAY     S,  No.  117, 

a  poem,  a  piece  of  fculpture,  or  a  painting,  not  at  all 
more  feniible  of  the  charms  of  atree,  or  a  floweret,  than 
a  common  and  inelegant  fpectator.  '1  hey  have  dwelt 
with  rapture  on  a  fine  description  of  the  Vale  of  Tern  pe, 
they  have  entered  into  all  the  delight  which  a  Shake- 
fpeare  or  a  Milton  meant  to  communicate  in  their  en- 
chanting pictures  of  flowery  and  fylvan  fcenes,  and  yet 
can  walk  through  a  wood,  or  tread  on  a  bank  of  violets 
and  primrofes,  without  appearing  to  be  affected  with 
any  peculiar  pleafure.  This  is  certainly  the  effect  of  a 
fuperficial  judgment ;  for  there  is  no  truth  of  which  phi- 
lofophers  have  been  longer  convinced,  than  that  the 
realities  of  nature  infinitely  exceed  the  moil  perfect  pro- 
ductions of  imitating  art. 

.The  beauty  of  colour,  though  juftly  efteemed  fubordi- 
nate  to  that  of  fhape,  is  yet  found  to  delight  the  eye  more 
immediately,  and  more  univerfally.  When  colour  and 
lhape  are  united  in  perfection ,  he  who  can  view  them 
with  infenfibility,  nuiit  refign  all  pretenfions  to  delicacy 
of  perception.  Such  an  union  has  been  ufually  effected 
by  nature  in  the  formation  of  a  flower. 

There  is  fcarcely  a  fmgle  object  in  all  the  vegetable 
world,  in  which  fo  many  agreeable  qualities  are  com- 
bined, as  in  the  queen  of  flowers,  the  rofe.  Nature 
certainly  meant  to  regale  the  fenfes  of  her  favourite 
with  an  object:,  which  prefents  to  him  at  once  fremnefs, 
fragrancy,  colour,  and  fhape.  The  very  foul  feems  to 
be  refrefhed  on  the  bare  recollection  of  the  pleafure 
which  the  fenfes  receive  in  contemplating,  in  a  fine 
vernal  morning,  the  charms  of  the  pink,  the  violet, 
the  honey-fuckle,  the  hyacinth,  the  narciflus,  the  jon- 
quil, the  rocket,  the  tulip,  and  a  thoufand  others,  in 
every  variety  of  figure,  fcent,  and  hue;  for  nature  is 
no  lefs  remarkable  for  the  accuracy  and  beauty  of  her 
works,  than  for  variety  and  profufion.  Defects  are 
always  difcovered  in  the  works  of  art  when  they  are 
examined  with  a  microfcope  ;  but  a  clofe  examination 
of  a  leaf  cf  a  flower,  is  like  taking  off  a  veil  from  the 
face  of  beauty.  The  fineit  needle  ever  polifhed,  and 
pointed  by  the  moil  ingenious  artift,  appears,  when  it 
is  viewed  by  the  folar  microfcope,  quite  obtufe  ;  while 
the  iting  of  a  bee,  however  magnified,  ftill  retains  «ll 


No.  117.  MORA    L,     &c.  141 

its  original  acutenefs  of  termination.  The  ferrated 
border  in  the  petal  of  a  flower,  and  the  fringe  on  the 
wing  of  a  fly,  difplay  an  accuracy  of  delineation  which 
no  pencil  ever  yet  could  rival.  The  tafte  of  the  florift 
has  not,  indeed,  been  much  admired,  or  generally 
afpired  at ;  while  that  of  the  connoifleur  in  painting, 
is  confidered  as  a  mark  of  elegance  of  character,  and  an 
honourable  diftinftion.  Yet,  furely,  it  is  an  incon- 
fiftency  to  be  tranfported  with  the  workmanfhip  of  a 
poor  mortal,  and  to  feel  no  raptures  in  furveying  thofe 
highly  finiihed  pictures,  in  which  it  is  eafy  to  trace  the 
finger  of  the  Deity. 

The  poets  have  given  us  mod  luxuriant  defcriptions 
of  gardens  and  of  rural  fcenery  ;  and  though  they  are 
thought  by  fome  to  have  exceeded  reality,  they  have 
indeed  fcarcely  equalled  it.  Enter  a  modern  fhrub- 
bery,  formed  of  a  feleclion  of  the  moft  agreeable 
flowering  fhrubs,  and  confider,  whether  there  is  any 
thing  in  the  garden  of  Alcinous,  in  the  fields  of 
Elyfium,  in  Milton's  Paradife,  to  be  compared  with  the 
intermixture  of  the  lilac,  the  fyringa,  the  laburnum,  the 
double-blofTomed  cherry,  peach,  and  almond  ;  with 
the  rubinia,  the  jefTamine,  the  mofs-rofe,  the  mag- 
nolia, and  a  great  number  of  others,  lefs  common,  but 
not  of  greater,  though  perhaps  of  equal,  beauty.  As 
we  walk  under  cluflers  of  flowers,  white  as  fnow,  tinged 
with  gold,  purple  as  the  grape,  blue  as  the  expanfe 
of  heaven,  and  blufhing  like  the  cheek  cf  youth,  we 
are  led  to  imagine  ourfelves  in  fairy  land,  or  in  another 
and  a  better  world  ;  where  every  delicate  fenfe  is  de- 
lighted, and  all  around  breathes  fragrance,  and  expands 
beauty;  where  the  heart  feems  to  participate  in  the  joy 
of  laughing  nature.  Groves  and  gardens  have,  in- 
deed, been  always  fuppofed  to  footh  the  mind  into  a 
placid  temper,  peculiarly  favourable  to  the  indulgence 
of  contemplation. 

The  excellent  tafte  which  now  prevails  in  gardening, 
ufually  combines  the  fhrubbery  and  the  grove.  The 
tall  trees  of  the  foreft  constitute  the  back-ground 
in  the  living  landfcape,  and  the  fhrubs,  beneath  and 
before  them,  form  the  underwood,  in  a  delightful  re- 
femblance  to  the  natural  coppice,  and  the  unculti- 
vated 


I-J2  ESSAYS,  No.  117. 

vnted  foreft.  The  plane  tree  is  one  of  the  firft  beauties 
among  thofe  which  are  now  moil  frequently  planted  in 
our  gardens.  Its  large  leaf,  and  permanent  verdure, 
render  it  peculiarly  fitted  to  afford  a  fhade.  I  always 
confider  it  as  a  claflical  tree,  for  the  antient  writers 
often  mention  it ;  and  fome  of  the  finelt  philofophical 
dialogues  of  antiquity  parted  under  the  cool  retreat  of 
its  broad  and  vivid  foliage.  Socrates  fought  no  other 
theatre  than  the  turf  that  grew  under  the  plane  tree, 
on  the  banks  of  the  IlifTus.  The  weeping-willow,  that 
droops  over  the  babbling  flream,  conltitutes  one  of 
thofe  fine  beauties  which  partake  of  the  melancholy 
and  romantic.  Such,  indeed,  are  the  charms  of  its 
luxuriant  branches,  that,  when  properly  fuuated,  it  is 
of  itfelf  an  enchanting  picture.  Beautiful  as  are  all 
the  features  of  the  modern  garden,  I  mould  not  hefi- 
tate  to  allot  the  firft  place  in  an  eftimate  cf  horticultu- 
ral graces  to  the  weeping-willow.  The  weeping  birch 
is  at  all  times  plealing,  and  a  moft  delightful  object 
in  winter.  Obferve  yonder  tall  ftem,  rifing  from  the 
imedUces  of  a  craggy  rock,  covered  with  a  rind  white 
and  glofly  like  lllver,  and  drooping  with  ten  thoufand 
fine  twigs,  fo  attenuated  as  to  appear  almoft  capillary. 
View  it  when  fprinkled  with  hoar  froft,  or  with  fnow, 
and  if  you  have  a  foul  capable  of  being  charmed  with 
natural  beauty,  you  will  be  fen.lbly  affected  at  the  fight 
with  a  fweet  complacency.  An  old  oak  is  not  oftea 
found  in  our  gardens,  becaufe  of  its  tardy  vegetation  ; 
but  whenever  it  appears  in  them,  it  produces  all  the 
effect  of  graceful  majefty,  and  one  may  contemplate  it 
for  hours  with  ftill  new  delight.  The  delicate  acacia, 
the  conical  poplar  of  Lombardy,  the  flowery  chefnut, 
the  foft  lime,  the  elegant  mountain  afh,  the  afpiring 
j;.r,  the  gloffy  laurel,  thefe  all  form  fo  various  and  de- 
lightful pictures,  that  while  I  am  permitted  to  expa- 
tiate over  the  lawn,  and  penetrate  the  mazes  of  the  wood 
and  garden,  I  (hall  not  repine  that  it  is  not  my  lot  to 
faunter  in  the  pifture  galleries  of  a  palace. 

The  taite  for  plantation  prevails  greatly  in  this  coun- 
try, ajid  it  ought  to  be  encouraged,  as  it  is  a  n.ever- 
failing  fource  of  pleafure  to  the  planter,  and  of  im- 
provement to  the  community.  But  it  is  to  be  hoped. 

that 


No.  1 18.  MORA  I,    &c.  143 

that  while  we  plant  the  tree  for  ornament,  we  fhall  not 
forget  to  drop  the  acorn,  and  raife  that  heart  of  oak, 
which  bears  an  analogy  to  the  bravery  of  the  people ; 
and  has  ever  been  to  this  land,  et  prafidium  et  dccus,  both 
a  bulwark  and  a  beauty. 


NO.  CXVIII.      ON    THE    CHARACTER  OF 
ADDISON  AS  A  POET. 


THE  luftre  of  a  great  name  not  only  fets  off  real 
beauties  to  the  greatefl  advantage,  but  adds  a 
grace  to  deformity,  and  converts  a  defect  to  an  excel- 
lence. The  enthufiaftical  admirers  of  a  favourite  author, 
like  ardent  lovers,  view  thofe  objects  with  rapture,  which 
caufe  in  others  indifference  or  difguft.  Without  confi- 
dering  the  inequalities  of  the  fame  genius,  and  the  di- 
verfities  of  fubjects,  they  are  Jed  to  conclude,  from  the 
excellence  of  one  part  of  an  author's  works,  that  all 
are  excellent  ;  and  that  whatever  bears  his  fignature,  is 
genuine  wit,  and  juft  tafte. 

I  know  not  whether  even  Mr.  Addifon,  who  Is  fo  de- 
fervedly  efleemed  the  honour  of  our  nation,  was  not  in- 
debted for  a  fmall  part  of  his  reputation  to  the  blind 
bigotry  of  prejudice.  On  any  other  fuppofition,  I  know 
not  how  he  could  have  been  admired  as  a  very  eminent 
poet.  The  difpafiionate  temperature  which  conilituted 
a  folid  judgment,  and  qualified  him  for  tue  cool  difqui- 
fitions  of  criiicifm  and  morality,  rendered  him  incapa- 
ble of  that  animated  fpirit  which  is  the  foul  of  poetry. 
But  the  reader  is  unwilling  to  believe,  that  fo  accurate 
a  critic,  and  fo  correct  a  writer,  is  himfelf  faulty ;  and, 
therefore,  when  he  pafi'es  from  his  profe  to  his  poetry, 
and  obferves  a  manifeft  inferiority  and  deficiency  of 
merit  in  the  latter,  he  rather  inclines  to  diflrult  his  own 
judgment  than  the  abilities  of  the  author.  Reader  after 
reader  has  toiled  through  the  fame  dull  rhimes,  perhaps 
Wind  to  their  faults,  or,  if  fenfibJe  .of  .their  defects,  yet 

inclined 


144-  ESSAYS,  No.  118. 

inclined  to  join  in  their  praife,  in  oppofition  to  convic- 
tion, from  a  dread  of  the  imputation  of  a  depraved  tafte. 
Had  not  a  veneration  for  his  name  prevented  critics  from 
fpeaking  their  real  fentiments,  though  Addifon  would, 
as  a  moral  eflayift,  moft  juftly  have  been  called  the  So- 
xrrates,  Plato,  or  Xenophon  of  his  age  ;  yet  he  would 
liever  have  been  efteemed  the  firft  of  poets. 

It  would  be  injuftice,  while  we  infpeft  thefe  volumes, 
to  pafs  over  in  filence,  the  elegant  poem  which  is  pre- 
fixed to  the  works  of  Addifon,  on  the  death  of  their 
author.  The  melancholy  flow  of  the  verfe  is  well  adapt- 
ed to  exprefs  the  tendernefs  of  the  fentiments.  The 
beauty  of  the  imagery,  and  the  energy  of  the  expreffion, 
entitle  this  little  piece  to  a  very  refpe&able  rank  among 
the  elegiac  compofitions  of  the  Englim  writers.  It  was 
for  a  long  time  little  regarded  ;  but  the  arention  lately 
paid  to  it,  and  the  commendations  bellowed  on  it,  are 
proofs  that  literary  merit,  however  unnoticed  for  a  time, 
through  accident,  prejudice,  or  party,  is  fure  ta  receive 
the  applaufe  it  deferves  from  impartial  pofterity. 

At  the  end  of  the  verfes  of  Addifon  to  Mr.  Dryden, 
we  lire  told,  that  the  author  was  but  twenty-two  years 
of  age  when  he  wrote  them.  Whether  the  age  was  af- 
fixed to  extenuate  the  imperfections,  or  to  enhance  the 
merits  of  the  poem,  certain  it  is,  that  both  thefe  inten- 
tions are  fruftrated  by  its  extreme  infignificance  and  fu- 
tility. The  production  is  unworthy  the  age  of  twenty- 
two.  Mr.  Pope  is  known  to  have  written  his  paftorals, 
which  infinitely  exceed  the  verfification  of  Addifon,  at 
fixteen  ;  and  Milton  acquired  an  elegance  in  Latin  verfe 
at  an  earlier  period.  The  thoughts  in  this  piece  are  not 
ftriking,  the  ftyle  is  contemptible,  and  the  negligence 
in  the  rhime  alone  would,  in  the  prefent  refinement  of 
tafte,  confign  the  work  to  oblivion. 

That  all  his  pieces  are  upon  a  level  with  this,  can- 
not be  aflerted.  That  fome  of  them  abound  with  grand 
conceptions,  and  have  many  good  lines,  muft  be  con- 
fefled.  But  allowing  Addifon  all  the  merit  in  his 
poetry,  which  candour,  or  even  partiality  in  his  favour 
can  allow,  he  never  can  be  juftly  efteemed  one  of  the 
firft  poets  of  the  nation.  I  never  heard  that  Socrates 

increafed 


No.  119.  MORAL,     &c.  145 

increafeJ  his  fame  by  his  poetical  verfion  of  JECc.p's  Fa- 
bles, and  the  beit  profe-wricer  iir  the  belt  age  of 
wrote  the  line,   "  0  for  tun  a!  am,  natam^  me  confide,  Ro~ 
."     The   truth   is,    nature    ufually   beito-.vs   her 
gifts  with  a   prudent  liberality  even  to  her  favourites. 
One  might  on  this  occafion  apply  to  Addifon  the 
of  Martial,   "  FLc  Cicercnis  babes"    This  charafter  of  a 
bad  poet  you  have  in  common  with  the  great  Cicero. 

To  oppofe  opinions  univerfally  received,  is  to  incur 
the  imputation  of  vanity,  ignorance,  and  want  of  tafte. 
But  as  every  individual  has  a  right  to  private  judgment, 
and  may  offer  his  fentiments  to  others,  while  he  does 
it  with  modefty,  profeffes  a  poffibility  of  miilake,  and 
keeps  his  mind  open  to  conviction,  I  have  ventured  to 
advance  an  opinion  againft  the  poetical  merit  of  Ad- 
difon ;  regardlefs  how  it  may  alarm  thofe  who  fubmit 
their  jud  ments  to  the  direction  of  others,  and  who  pay 
an  implicit  obedience  to  authority. 


NO.  CXIX.  THE.  FOLLY  OF  BRINGING  Ul» 
CHILDREN  TO  A  LEARNED  PROFESSION, 
WITHOUT  THE  PROBABILITY  OF  PROVIDING 
THEM  WITH  A  COMPETENCY. 


THAT  admiration  is   the  effecl:  of  ignorance,  is 
.   truth   univerfally  confefled  ;    and   nothing   ib 
forcibly  excites  the  wonder  of  the  illiterate  Plebeian,  as 
the  chandler  of  profound  erudition. 

Dazzled  by  the  fplendor  of  literary  honours,  many  <r.i 
lionert  pnrent  has  prevented  his  fon  from  acquiring  a 
fortune  behind  the  counter,  to  fee  him  itarve  in  a 
pulpit. 

Thefe  reflections  were  occafioned  by  meeting 
friend   at  a  coffee- houfe  one  evening  laft  week.     His 
looks  were  meagre,  his  drefs  fhabby,  and  he  fufficiently 
apologized  for  the  rcftinefs  of  his  coat,  by  the  follow- 
ing narrative : 

VOL.  II.  H  «  r\I/ 


146  ESSAYS,  No.  119. 

"  My  father,"  faid  he,  after  fomc  preliminary  con- 
verfation,  "  was  a  fliQemaker  of  tolerable  bufinefs  in 
"  London  ;  a  very  honed  man,  and  very  much  given  to 
*'  reading  godly  books,  whenever  he  could  ft^al  a 
"  moment  from  the  lap-Hone  and  the  laft.  As  [  was 
"  the  only  child,  he  took  great  delight  in  me,  and 
"  ufed  frequently  to  fay,  that  he  hoped  in  time  to  lee 
"  me  Archbifhop  of  Canterbury,  and  no  fuch  great 
"  matters  neither;  for  as  to  my  parentage,  I  was  as 
"  good  as  many  a  one  that  had  worn  a  mitre;  and  he 
"  would  make  me  as  good  a  fcbolard  too,  or  it  mould 
'*  go  hard  with  him. 

"  My  deftination  to  the  church  was  thus  unalterably 
«*  fixed  before  I  was  five  years  old  ;   and  in  confequence 
"  of  it,   I  was  put   to   a  grammar-  fchool  in  the  city, 
"  whence,  after  a  thoufand  perils  of  the  cane,  and  perils 
"  of  the  rod,  I  went  to  the  Univerfity  on  an  exhibition 
"  of  fifteen  pounds  a  year,   which  my  father  obtained 
*'  from  one  of  the  city  companies,   with  no  fmall  diffi- 
culty.    So  fcanty  an  allowance  would  by  no  means 
defray  the  enormous  expence  of  Univerfity  education  ; 
and  my  father,   whole  pride  would  not  let  me  ap- 
pear  meaner   than    my    companions,     very    readily 
agreed   to   pay   me  forty  pounds  out  of  tha  yearly 
profits  of  his   trade,   and  to  debar  himfelf  many  in- 
nocent gratifications,   in  order  to  accomplifh  in  me 
the  grand  objeft  of  all  his  ambition. 
"  In  confequence  of  my  father's  defire,  that  I  mould 
"  complete  the  full  term  of  academical  education,  I  did 
«'  not  go  inio  orders  till  I  was  of  feven  years  Handing, 
«'   and  had  t;;ken  the  degree  of  Matter  of  Arts.     I  was 
"  therefore    incapable    of    receiving     any    pecuniary 
«'  emoluments   from  my   itudies,     till   I    was   fix   and 
"  twenty.     Then.,   however,  I  was  refolved  to  make  a 
"  bold  pufh,  and  to   free  my  father  from  the  burthen 
"  of  fupporting  me  with  half  the  profits  of  his  labours. 
"  The  old  man  was  eager  that  I  mould  attempt  to  get 
"  fome   kind  of  preferment;   net,  as  he  would  gene- 
*'  rouily  fay,  that  he  wanted  to  withdraw  his  afiiftance, 
"  but  that  he  thought  it  was  high  time  to  begin  to  look 
'*  up  at  the  Bifhopric. 

"  I-hattened 


No.  119.  MORAL,    &c.  147 

"  I  hafteried  to  London  as  the  mod  ample  field  for 
"  the  difplay  of  my  abilities,  and  the  acqnifition  of 
"  money  and  fame.  Soon  after  my  arrival,  I  heard  of 
"  a  vacant  Ledlurefhip ;  and  though  I  was  an  entire 
"  ftranger  to  every  one  of  the  parimioners,  I  refolved 
"  to  truft  my  caufe  to  honefl  endeavours,  and  a  fedu- 
"  lous  canvafs.  I  mall  not  trouble  you  with  an  enu- 
meration of  the  feveral  indignities  I  fufrered  (for  I 
had  not  loft  my  univerfity  pride),  from  being  under 
the  neceflity  to  addrefs,  with  the  moft  abjecl  fuppli- 
cations,  chandlers,  barbers,  and  green-grocers.  Suf- 
fice it  to  acquaint  you,  that  myfelf,  and  another 
young  clergyman  of  regular  education,  appeared, 
on  the  day  of  election,  to  have  but  feventeen  votes 
between  us  j  and  that  a  methodiftical  enthufiaft,  who 
had  once  been  a  carpenter,  bore  away  the  prize  with 
a  majority  of  a  hundred  and  twenty. 
"  Though  difappointed>  I  was  not  deje£led  ;  and  I 
applied  to  a  certain  Redor  for  his  Curacy,  the  duty 
of  which,  confiited  in  prayers  twice  a  day,  a  fermon, 
on  Sundays,  and  innumerable  burials,  chriflenings, 
and  weddings.  I  thought  myfelf  happy,  however, 
in  being  offered  forty  guineas  a  year,  without  fur- 
plus,  or  furplice  fees;  but  how  was  I  chagrined,  on 
being  told  by  the  Reftor,  on  the  very  firft  Sunday  I 
went  to  officiate,  that  I  need  not  trouble  myfelf,  as 
another  gentleman  had  undertaken  the  whole  duty 
at  forty  pounds ! 

"  I  waited  now  a  confiderable  time  in  expectation  that 
fomething  would  fall ;  but  heard  of  nothing  in  which 
there  was  the  lead  probability  of  fuccefs,  unfupported, 
as  I  was  by  friends,  and  unknown  to  fame.  At  laft, 
I  was  informed  by  an  acquaintance,  that  a  certain 
Clergyman  in  the  city  was  about  to  refign  his 
Le&urefhip,  and  that  he  would  probably  refign  in  my 
favour,  if  I  were  early  enough  in  my  application. 
I  made  all  the  hafte  i  poflibly  could  to  reach  this 
gentleman  before  his  resignation  ;  and  found  very 
little  difficulty  in  perfuading  him  to  intercede  in  my 
favour.  In  mort,  his  endeavours,  joined  to  my  own, 
fecured  the  Lefturefhip,  and  I  was  unanimoufly  cho- 
fea.  The  electors,  however,  exprefled  a  .Icfire,  that 
Hz  •«  I  would 


i4S  ESSAY    S,  No.  119. 

"  I  would  quit  my  place  of  refidence,  which  was  at  a 
*'  diftance,  and  live  in  the  pari(h.  To  this  requeft  I 
"  confented  ;  and  immediately  fixed  myfelf  in  a  decent 
"  family,  where  I  lodged  and  boarded  for  fifty  pounds 
"  a  year  ;  and  as  I  was  not  fo  ambitious  as  my  father, 
"  I  congratulated  myfelf  on  the  happy  event,  and  fat 
"  down  contented  and  fatisfied.  But,  alas!  how  was 
I  confounded,  when  my  collectors  brought  the  an- 
nual contribution,  to  find  it  amount  to  no  more  than 
an  exacl  fum  of  twenty-one  pounds  two  (hillings  and 
three-pence  three  farthings  !  I  was  under  an  imme- 
diate neceflity  of  difcharging  my  lodging,  refigning 
my  preferment,  and  quietly  decamping  with  the  lofs 
of  no  inconfid'erable  fum. 
"  Thus,  Sir,"  faid  he,  "  have  I  now  for  thefe 
"  twenty  years  been  to/Ted  about  in  the  world,  without 
"  any  fixed  refidence,  and  without  any  certain  profpecl: 
"  of  my  bread.  I  muft  not  however  complain,  as  I 
«*  am  well  aflured  there  are  many  in-the  metropolis  in 
"  fituations  very  fimilar  to  mine.  Yet  fometimes,  I 
"  own,  I  cannot  help  being  foolifh  enough  to  imagine, 
««  that  I  might,  perhaps,  have  been  happier,  and  I  am 
*'  fure  I  could  have  been  richer,  had  I  been  brought  up 
"  to  my  paternal  awl  and  laft.  My  poor  father  died 
"  about  two  years  ago,  and  I  have  reafon  to  think,  his 
"  difappcintmetu  and  forrow  for  my  ill-fuccefs  haftened 
"  his  diffolution. 

"  I  now  fupport  myfelf  tolerably  well  in  the  capacity 
"  of,  what  the  world  ludicroufly  calls,  a  Hackney 
*'  Parfon.  And  though  I  do  not  get  quite  fo  much 
"  as  a  journeyman  fhoemaker,  I  make  fhift  to  keep 
"  foul  and  body  together;  and  I  thank  God  for  that. 
"  If,  Sir,  you  could  recommend  me,  here  is  my  ad- 

"  drefs,  up  four-pair  of  Hairs." 

He  was  proceeding,  but  he  had  too  powerfully  ex- 
cited my  fympathy  ;  and  after  confoling  him  to  the  beft 
of  my  power,  I  took  my  leave  of  him,  not  without 
fevere  reflexions  on  thofe  parents,  who,  to  indulge  a 
childifh  vanity,  bring  up  their  offspring  to  mifery  and 
want. 


No,  CXX. 


No.  120.  MORAL,    &c. 


No.   CXX.    ON 'DECENCY,    AS    THE    ONLY 

MOTIVE  OF  OUR  APPARENT  VIRTUES,  AND 
PARTICULARLY  OF  OUR  RELIGIOUS  BEHA- 
VIOUR. 


WHATEVER  may  be  the  vices  of  this  age, 
it  cannot  be  faid  to  be  particularly  diflinguiftied 
by  hypocrify.  Selfiihriefs  reigns  triumphant ;  and  men, 
for  the  moft  part,  purfue  whatever  they  think  conducive 
to  their  own  pleafure  or  intereft,  without  regarding  ap- 
pearances, or  the  o'pinions  of  others,  except,  indeed, 
Avhen  their  interell  or  their  pleafure  are  immediately- 
concerned. 

Even  they  who  fill  offices  of  confidence  and  honour 
in  the  community,  .ire,  in  this  ag?,  fond  of  diverting 
themfclves  of  that  external  dignity  with  which  the 
\vifdom  of  our  anceftors  judged  it  right  to  furround  them. 
Tiiey  defcend  with  a  peculiar  kind  of  pride  from  their 
natural  or  political  eminence,  and  will  not  even  difplay 
the  appearance  of  thofe  virtues  and  abilities  which  are 
absolutely  ne.ceflary  in  their  offices  and  ftations.  They 
oftentatioufly  exhibit  a  carelefihefs  and  profligacy  in 
their  converfation  and  behaviour,  which,  if  they  really 
poflefs,  ought  to  difplace  them  from  their  rank,  and 
ftrip  them  of  their  blufhing  honours. 

In  thofe  who  fill  public  offices,  or  who  are  fixed  in 
the  more  important  profeilions,  a  regard  to  external 
divncy  is  itfelf  a  virtue;.  But,  in  truth,  if  the  prefcnt 
difordere-1  Hate  of  things  would  permit,  none  ought  to 
fill  thofe  offices  and  profeJions,  whole  regard  to  decency 
dee.',  not  r.rife  from  a  regard  to  virtue. 

There  are,  indeed,  many  who  are  erteemed  good  fort 
of  perfons,  but  whofe  goodnefs  is  unprincipled,  and 
appears  to  arife  folely  from  a  regard  to  external 
decorum,  or,  what  is  called,  the  faving  of  appearances. 
And  this  motive,  poor  and  contemptible  as  it  is,  in 
H  3  cow 


i$o  ESSAYS,  No.  U9. 

comparifon  with  rational  principles  arising  from  con- 
viction, is  very  often  the  only  avowed  motive  for  the 
regular  performance  of  all  external  duties  ;  but  more 
particularly  of  thofe  which,  concern  religion.  The 
following  imaginary  tran faction  will,  perhaps,  fuggeft 
an  idea  of  that  poor  and  political  decency  which  it  is 
thought  a  very  extraordinary  effort  of  virtue  to  main- 
tain. Let  us  then  invent  a  fceoe  of  fiction  by  way  of 
exemplification. 

""  We  muft  have  a  Faft  Day  foon,"  fays  the  Statef- 
jnan,  "  for  the  Americans  have  had  one  already." 
"  It  is  unneceffary,"  replies  the  Privy  Counfellor  in  the 
jockey  drefs,  aiming  at  a  wretched  pun,  "  it  is  all  a 
*'  farce."  "  Between  friends,"  fubjoins  the  Statet- 
man,  "  1  am  not  fonder  of  fjch  formalities  than  you 
"  are  ;  but  yon  know  it  is  decent,  and  we  muft  con- 
•"  form,  externally  at  }eaft,  to  the  prejudices  of  the 
*'  mob."  "  It  is  decent,  my  Lord,"  re-echoes  the 
bench  of  Bifhops. 

"  There  is  a  Sermon  preached  to-day  before  ths 
*'  Honfe  of  Lords,"  fays  a  member ;  "  True,"  fays 
another,  "  but  I  vote  it  a  Bore;  and  befides,  I  a.m  en- 
"  gaged  to  fee  a  fine  bitch  pointer  that  I  think  of  buy- 
«'  ing."  "  Well,"  refumes  the  other,  "  but  let  us  make 
"  a  party  of  two  or  three  to  church,  becaufe  it  is 
'*  decent."  «<  We  beg,  my  Lords,"  foftly  whifpers  an 
epifcopal  voice,  "  you  would  not  put  yourfelves  to  the 
•'  fmalleft  inconyenience,  for  half  a  dozen  of  us  have 
"  determined,  though  we  have  a  thoufand  engagements, 
"  to  pollpone  them  an  hour  or  two  for  the  fake  of  de- 
"  cency.  Decency,  my  Lord,  muft  fuperfede  every 
'*  confideration."  "  Will  you  go  to  church,  my  Lord 
"  Duke  ?"  fays  one,  lowly  bowing  to  his  patron. 
'*  No ;  I  think  it  decent,  but  you  will  be  there  on 
"  that  account ;  and  as  I  am  engaged  to-day  at  bil- 

*'  liards,  I  muft  beg  to  be  excufed  : but  I  hope 

'-*  there  will  be  enough  there  to  make  a  decent  ap- 
"  pearance." 

Among  the  gay  fenators  of  the  Britifh  empire  it  has 
been  obferved,  that  very  few,  of  late,  have  difplayed  in 
this  inflance  even  that  fubordinate  virtue  of  which  we 

fpeak, 


No.  120.  MORA    L,     &t,  15-1 

fpeak,  a  regard  to  external  decency.  Weftminfler  Abbey, 
indeed,  is  not  a  place  to  be  frequented  for  pleafure  by 
thofe  who  chiefly  (hine  in  the  Hand  at  a  horfe-race. 
One  or  two  officers  however  do  attend  a  fermon  officially, 
and  a  few  others  for  the  fake  of  decency  ;  but  the  know- 
ing ones  confider  the  whole  bufmefs,  to  exprefs  their 
own  ideas  in  their  own  language,  as  a  curfed  lounge. 
This  bufmefs,  therefore,  and  many  others  of  a  moft 
folemn,  facred,  and  venerable  nature,  beirrg  confulered 
merely  as  incumbrances  by  the  jolly  part,  which  is  tl  « 
greater  part,  they  are  utterly  negle&cd,  or  attended  by 
a  few  only,  whofe  intereit  compels  them  to  have  a  re- 
gard to  decency. 

Our  religion  teaches  us  to  feparate  one  day  out  cf 
feven  for  religious  purpofes.  But  many  of  the  wife  men, 
who  vi  ere  born  to  be  our  Englilh  Solons  and  Lycurgi, 
confider  the  inftitution  merely  as  a  foolifh  fuperftition  j 
and  therefore  fpend  the  Sabbath,  like  the  charming  peo- 
ple abroad,  at  cards  and  in  diffipation,  and  very  much 
lament  thofe  grofs  prejudices  of  the  common  people, 
which  render  it  decent  and  prudent  not  to  open  the  thea- 
tres, and  enliven  the  horrid  dullnefj>  of  the  Seventh  Day 
by  public  diverfions.  Even  mighty  good  fort- of  people, 
as  they  are  ufually  called,  hefitate  not  to  confefsj  that  a 
regard  to  external  decency  is  one  of  the  rhief  motives 
of  their  regular  conduct  in  obierving  the  Sabbath,  and 
other  virtuous  practices  of  o»r  forefathers 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  trace  this  motive  of  de- 
cency in  many  of  the  apparent  virtues,  which  ciilplay 
themfelves  with  no  little  oftentation,  in  every  depart- 
ment of  human  life.  But  it  is  really  better  to  pay  that 
deference  to  virtue  which  arifes  from  afiuming  the 
appearances,  than  by  impudent  and  avowed  contempt 
of  it,  to  injure  others  by  the  example.  To  have  merely 
a  regard  to  decency  in  common  life,  and  in  a  wicked 
and  unprincipled  age,  becomes,  in  feme  degree, 
virtuous.  We  will  not,  therefore,  expofe  this  unfound 
virtue  to  fevere  cenfure,  except  when  it  appears  in 
religion,  where,  whatever  appearances  are  infmcere, 
conftitute  hypocrify  of  a  moft  deteftable  kind  ;  hypo- 
crify,  founded  on  felf-intereft.  It  is  the  man  of  decent 
character  (and  with  this  view  alone  he  is  decent),  who 
H  4  rifcs 


152        ,  ESSAYS, 

rues  to  preferment,  ami  then  laughs  in  his  lawn 
;;t  the  humble   Chrillian  in.  tattered  crape,  \vho  is  too 
fiBcere  to  he  political,   too  found  in   the   inner  man   to 
wane  or  admit  the  varnith  of  the  whifed  fepuichrc. 

Pope  has  faid,  that  Seeker  was  decent,  and  that 
RundJe  had  a  heart.  Whether  the  cenfure  or  the  praiib 
xvusjuft  is  not  mine  to  determine.  All  J  (hall  remark 
on  the  pa/Tage  is,  th-t  though  decency  may  fmooth  the 
way  to  courts,  and  infmuate  itfelf  into  the  highelt 
leats  of  preferment,  it  is  a  heart  only  which  is  capable 
of  deriving,  frcm  the  fuccefs,  a  pure  and  folid  fatif- 
faift^cm.  '('hough  decency  without  fjncerity  rer.y  be 
approved  by  narrow  politicians,  and  even  gain  the  ap- 
n^ire  of  the  multitude  by  deceiving  them  ;  yet  let  not 
the  hypocrite  triumph,  but  remember,  that  there  is  one 
befoie  whom  all  hearts  are  open,  all  defires  known, 
and  from  whom  no  fecrets  are  hidden. 


No.  CXXI.  ON  THE  ANIMOSITIES  OCCA- 
SIONED IN  THE  COUNTRY  BY  THE  GAME 
LAWS. 


IN  a  late  paper  on  the  difagreernents  of  a  country 
neighbourhood,  I  purpofely  omitted  one  of  the  moft 
fruitful  cnufes  of  them,  intending  to  confider  it  in  a 
paper  by  itfelf,  confiftently  with  its  exteniive  and  im- 
portant operation.  I  believe  it  will  be  allowed  by  all 
who  have  made  remarks,  that  the  individuals  of  this 
nation  are  more  ferioufly  and  inveterately  divided  by 
difputes  about  the  Game,  than  by  controversies,  which 
make  much  more  noife  in  the  world  on  the  fubjefts  of 
politics  or  religion.  \Vhat  remains  among  us  of  fa- 
vv.genefs  and  brutality  is  chiefly  preferved  by  the  mean 
and  ielfifh  gr'eedinefs  of  thole  who  poffefs  a  thoufand 
peculiar  advantages,  and  who  yet  meanly  contend  for 
an  exclufive  right  to  deflroy  the  Game;  that  ufufruc- 
tuary  property,  which  the  Creator  intended  to  be 
pofleffed  by  .the  firil  occupant,  like  the  air,  light,  and 
'water. 

Some 


No.  121.  MORAL,     &c,  153 

Some  feflraints  however  of  that  kind,  which  tend  to 
prevent   the  poor  labourer    from    wafting  .his  valuable 
time,  might,  perhaps,  be   neither   unjull,  nor,  in   any 
refpeft,  attended  with  inconvenience.     But  the  Game 
Law?,  a~>  they  now  fubfifl  in  England,  are  a  difgrace  to 
the  noble  fabric  of  our   free  confKtution.     They   are 
illiberal  in  their  nature;   they  originated  in  flavery,  and 
they  lead   to   tyranny.     It  is  remarked  by  Burn,  and 
the  great  commentator  en  our  legal  fyftem,    that,   in 
one  Itatute  only  for  the  prcfervation   of  Game,  there 
are  not  lefs  than  fix    blunders   in   Grammar,    befides 
other  miftakes  ;  fo  that  one  is  led  to  conclude,  that  this 
part  of  our  boafted  code  was  drawn  up  by  a  committee 
of   boorifli    country  cfquircs    and    ftupid    fox-hunters. 
Jndeed,  the  whole  body  of  the  Game  Laws  is  replete 
with   perplexity,    abfurdity,  and   contradiction.     What 
can  be  more  ridiculous,  than  that  the  legiflature  of  a 
mighty  empire  mould  require  one  hundred  a  year  as 
a  qualification  to  moot  a  poor  partridge,  and  only  forty 
millings  to  vote  for  a   Senator?    "   There  is   another 
offence."    lays    Blackitone,    "    fo  conftituted    by   a 
variety  of  acts  of  parliament,  which  are  fo  numerous, 
and  fo  confufed,  and  the  crime  itfelf  of  fo  queftiou- 
able  a  nature,  that  I  fliall  not  detain  the  reader  with 
rmny  obfervations  thereupon.     And  yet  it  is  an  of- 
fence which  the  fportfmen  of  England  feem  to  think 
of  the  higheft  importance;    and   a  matter,  perhaps 
the  only  one,  of  general  and   nati  mi  concern:   af- 
fociations  having  been  formed  all  over  the  kingdom 
to    prevent    its    deftruitive   progrefs  ;     I    mean    the 
offence  of  dettroying  fuch   bealts  and   fowls  as  are 
ranked  under  the  denomination   of  Game."     Upon 
the  whole,  it  may  be  truly  faid,  that  an  Englifhman, 
who  has  a  regard  for  the  honour  of  his  country,  and 
fenfe  enough  to  fee  the   mean   and   arbitrary  fpirit  of 
the  Game  Laws,  and  the  nonfenl'e  of  the  Letter,  muft 
hide  his  face  in  confufion,  when  he  confiders  how  much 
time  and  attention  has  been   fpent  upon  them   by  the 
Briiifh  Legiflature. 

Rural  diverfions  certainly  conllitute  a  very  pleafing 
and  proper  amufemcnt  for  all  ranks  above  the  loweft* 
livery  man  who  has  a  jtifl  claim  to  the  title  of  gen- 
ii 5  tleman, 


1*4  ESSAYS,  N».  121. 

tleman,  or,  indeed,  who  is  capable  of  fpending  his 
time  in  amufement,  without  injuring  the  public  or 
his  own  family,  ought  to  be  fuffered  to  partake  of  them. 
Jf  he  gives  up  his  hours,  his  labour,  and  his  thoughts 
to  the  purfuit,  he  has  earned  a  right  to  the  obj.eft, 
fince  the  object  is  of  a  nature  which  cannot  be  appro- 
priated while  alive  and  at  liberty.  A  fellow-creature 
is  agreeably  amufedand  benefited,  and  no  man  robbed, 
iince  the  bird  that  flies  in  the  air  no  more  belongs  to  the 
tenant  of  the  manfion-houfe,  than  the  fun-beam  which 
equally  fhines  on  the  cottage  and  the  palace.  Poor 
is  the  opulence,  and  little  the  grandeur,  which  {hews 
a  difpofition  which  would  undoubtedly  engrofs,  if  it 
were  poffible,  the  light  and  the  air. 

With  refpecl.  to  the  matter  of  a  trefpafs,  it  is  certain, 
that  a  Lord  of  the  Manor  is  no  lefs  liable  to  be  pro- 
fecuted  for  it  on  his  own  manor  than  any  other  perfon, 
whether  qualified  or  unqualified.  It  fhews,  therefore, 
the  ignorance,  as  well  as  arbitrary  difpofition  of  thefe 
petty  princes,  when  they  claim  the  privilege  of  prowling 
for  prey,  without  controul,  on  their  neighbour's  land, 
and  of  excluding  all  others  from  their  own.  In  fhort, 
it  is  extremely  doubtful  what  privileges  the  lord  of 
the  manor  poflefies ;  and  whether  he  has  a  better  right 
to  hunt  and  fhoot,  without  a  particular  grant  from  the 
king,  than  the  meaneft  fubjeft  whom  he  bullies  and 
browbeats.  The  contemptible  laws  which  have  been 
made  on  this  bufmefs  certainly  want  illuflration  and 
amendment.  Indeed  they  ought  to  be  torn  out  of  the 
ftatute  book ;  and  the  memory  of  them,  like  that  of 
feudal  ignorance  and  flavery,  execrated. 

There  is  a  practice  particularly  mean  and  oppreffive, 
which  very  much  prevails  in  this  felfilh  age,  among  the 
engrofiers  of  that  part  of  the  creation  which  God  and 
nature  have  conftituted  free  as  the  feas  and  the  winds.. 
They  do  not  confider  the  purfuit  of  Game  in  the  liberal 
Jight  of  a  gentleman-like  diverfion,  but  view  the  hare 
and  the  partridge  as  provender  for  the  table  at  once 
genteel  and  cheap.  They  therefore  feldom  give 
thenifelves  the  trouble  to  join  in  the  chnce,  or  carry  the 
gun  over  the  furrows;  but  felecl  fome  idle  peafant, 
who,  by  poaching,  has  acquired  a  flail  in  the  arts  of 

dellroying 


No.  121.  MORA  L,     &c.  155 

defiroying  Game ;  clothe  him  in  green  plufh,  and 
fend  him  to  provide  pheafants,  and  bid  defiance  to  his 
fuperior.?,  whenever  the  matter  has  company  to  dine 
with  him,  and  wifhes  to  fave  an  article  in  the  butcher's 
account.  This  green-coated  hero,  who  is  ufually 
one  of  the  greateft  fcoundrels  in  the  parim,  Tallies 
forth  under  the  prote&ion  of  the  lord  or  lady  of  the 
manor;  and  if  he  meets  a  curate,  or  an  apothecary,  or 
a  reputable  tradefman,  or  even  a  neighbouring  lord  of 
the  manor,  boldly  infults  them,  threatens  to  fliocc 
their  dogs,  or  feize  their  fowiing-piece§  ;  and  juflifies  all 
his  infolence  by  alleging,  that  what  he  does  or  fays  is 
all  by  his  mailer's  order.  Appeal  to  that  mafter,  and, 
probably,  the  infults  are  aggravated  ;  or,  if  he  pretends 
to  uncommon  affability,  he  will  allow  that  the  fellow  is 
ap:  to  be  a  little  foul-mouthed ;  but,  upon  the  whole,  is 
a  very  faithful  fervant.  The  low  wretch  himfe'f  might, 
indeed,  be  punilhed  both  for  his  trefpafs  and  his  ill-ufage; 
but  though  he  infulted  his  profecutors  in  the  field,  he 
is  ready,  like  all  upftart  and  petty  potentates,  to  bend 
on  his  knees  for  mercy,  and  ufually  difarms  the  geni- 
rous  by  pleading  a  wife  and  fix  children.  I  know  not 
which  -ought  to  predominate,  compnifion  for  the  poor 
deluded  peafant,  or  contempt  for  his  employer.  It 
is  furely  enough  that  the  rich  man  claims  an  exclufive 
right  to  the  commoners  of  nature  hirafeirj  and  he 
ought  by  no  means  to  be  fuffercd  to  commifCon  the 
lowefl  plebeian  to  do  that  which  he  prohibiis  in  gen- 
tlemen of  the  profelTions  ;  of  fortunes  as  independent, 
if  not  fo  great,  as  his  own,  and  of  minds  often  much, 
greater. 

It  is  in  the  power  of  thefe  hirelings,  who  feldomv 
poflefs  much  principle,  to  involve  all  the  country  in 
snimofity.  The  landed  gentry  ufually  poftefs  a  mare 
of  pride  fully  proportionate  to  their  eilate  and  manfion- 
houfe.  The  hireling  of  one  treipafTei  on  the  dominions 
of  another.  Reprisals  are  made.  Each  defends  his 
representatives.  One  thinks  himfrlf  us  good  (for  that  is 
the  phrafe)  as  the  oth-er.  N-o  conceffions  can  poffibly 
be  made.  Hatred,  of  the  bkten.lt  and  molt  rancorous 
kind  mutually  takes  poflHion  of  theie  lords  in  minia- 
ture ;  and  many  a  hunting  would  end,  if  vaflals  could 
H  6  be 


156  ESSAYS,  No.  121. 

be  procured,  like  that  of  Chevy  Chace,  in  a  bloody 
battle. 

If  compaflion  did  not  intervene,  one  might  be  much 
entertained  with  Ib  ludicrous  an  objecl,  as  that  of 
creatures,  who  pretend  to  reafo_n,  benevolence,  chriit- 
ianity,  and  education,  rendering  their  exigence,  mutu- 
ally painful,  by  fierce  quarrels,  fecret  but  venomous 
-hatred,  expenfive  and  vexatious  litigations,  occafioned 
by  objedls  of  a  nature  truly  trifling  in  themfelves,  and 
which,  allowing  them  every  potfible  praife,  can  be 
called  no  more  than  innocent  diverfions.  Are  we  not 
ftill  children  with  all  our  beard  and  gravity  about  us, 
Sf  we  always  play  till  we  quarrel  ?  Our  conduct,  in  this 
refpeft,  is  almoft  too  abfurd  to  admit  of  ferious  e.xpoflu- 
lation.  It  may  furnifh  fcenes  for  mirth  at  a  puppet- 
fhew,  or  a  farce  at  Bartholomew  Fair. 

However,  I  think  it  neceflary,  before  I  conclude  this 
fubjecl,  to  declare,  for  the  fake  of  avoiding  the  ma- 
lignant rnifmterpretations  of  goffips  and  fcandal-dealers 
by  profefllon,  that  there  are  no  allufions  in  this  paper 
cither  perfonal  or  local  ;  and  that  I  have  not  been 
pleading  for  a  privilege  in  which  I  am  intereited,  not 
being  inclined  to  hunt,  nor  able  to  (hoot. 

I  will  beg  leave  to  add  one  paffage  on  the  fubjeft 
from  Blackuone,  for  the  information  of  thofe  among 
fportfmen,  who  are  too  tenacious  of  their  exclufive 
rights,  and  who  are  able  to  read  it. 

"   Another  violent   alteration   of  the  Engllfh  confti- 

"  tution,  confifted  in  the  depopulation  of  whole  ccun- 

<(  tries  for  the  purpofes  of  the  King's  royal  diverfion  ; 

"  and  fubje&ing  both  them,  and  all  the  antient  forefts 

"  of  the   kingdom,    to  the    unreafonable    feverity    of 

"  Foreft  Laws,  imported  from  the  continent;  whereby 

the  fiaughter  of  a  bead  was  made  almoit  as  penal  as 

the  death  of  a  man.     In  the  Saxon  times,  though  no 

man   was  allowed  to  kill  or  chafe   the  King's  deer, 

yet  he    might  ftart  any  game,    purfue    and  kill  it, 

upon  his  own  cftate.     But    the  rigour  of  tliefe  new 

conititutions    veiled   the    fole   property    of   all    the 

Cj:nie    in    England  in    the    King    alone;     and    no 

r.,;jn  was  allowed  to  diftnrb  any  lowl  of  the  air,  or 

;  ny  beaft  of  the  field,  of  fuch  kinds  as  were  fpecially 

2  "  referved 


No.  122.  MORAL,      Sic.  157 

referred  for  the  royal  amufement  of  the  Sovereign, 
without  exprefs  licence  from  the  King,  by  the  grant 
of  a  chace  or  free  warren  :  and  thofe  franchifes  were 
granted  as  much  with  a  view  to  preferve  the  breed 
of  animals,  as  to  indulge  the  fubjeft.  From  afimilar 
principle  to  which,  though  the  Foreft  Laws  are  now 
mitigated,  and  by  degrees  grown  entirely  obfolete ; 
yet  from  this  root  has  fprung  a  baftard  Hip,  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Game  Law,  now  arrived  to,  and 
wantoning  in,  its  higheft  vigour:  both  founded  upon 
the  fame  unreafonable  notions  of  permanent  property 
in  wild  creatures;  and  both  productive  of  the  fame 
tyranny  to  the  commons:  but  with  this  difference ; 
that  the  Foreft  Laws  eftabliflied  only  one  mighty 
liunter  throughout  the  land,  the  Game  Laws  have 
ro.ijed  a  little  Nimrod  in  every  manor.  And  in  one 
relpect  the  antient  law  was  much  lefs  unreafonable 
than  the  modern  ;  for  the  King's  gran  tee  of  a  chace 
or  free  warren  might  kill  game  in  every  part  of  his 
franchife  ;  but  now,  though  a  freeholder  of  lefs  than 
one  hundred  a  year  is  forbidden  to  kill  a  partridge  on 
his  own  eitate,  yet  nobody  elfe  (not  even  the  lord  of 
the  manor,  unlefs  he  hath  a  grant  cffree  warren)  cart 
do  it  without  committing  a  trefpafs,  and  fubjeding 
lumfclf  to  an  adion." 


No.   CXXII.    ON    THE    IMPORTANCE    OF    GO- 
VERNING   THE    TEMPER. 


OT  WITHSTANDING  the  many  complaints  of 
the  calamities  of  human  life,  it  is  certain,  that 
more  conltant  uneafinefs  arifes  from  ill  temper  than  from 
ill  fortune.  In  vain  has  Providence  beftowed  every  ex- 
ternal blefling,  if  care  has  not  been  taken  by  ourfelves 
to  fmooth  the  afperities  of  the  temper.  A  bad  temper 
embitters  every  fwcet,  and  converts  a  paradife  into  3 
place  of  torment. 

The  government  of  the  temper  then,  on  which,  the 
happinefs  of  the  human  race  io  greatly  depends,  can 

never" 


158  ESSAYS,  No.  122. 

never  be  too  frequently,  or  too  forcibly  recommended. 
But  as  it-was  found  by  fome  of  the  antients  one  of  the 
moft  efficacious  methods  of  deterring  young  perfons  from 
any  difagreeable  or  vicious  conduct,  to  point  out  a  living 
character  in  which  it  appeared  in  all  its  deformity,  I  mall 
exhibit  a  picture,  in  which  I  hope  a  bad  temper  will  ap- 
pear, as  it  really  is,  a  moil  unamiable  object. 

It  is  by  no  means  uncommon  to  obferve  thofe,  who 
have  been  flattered  for  fuperficial  qualities  at  a  very  early 
age,  and  engaged  in  fo  conitant  a  feries  of  diffipating 
pleafure,  as  to  leave  no  time  for  the  culture  of  the  mind, 
becoming,  in  the  middle  and  advanced  periods  of  life, 
melancholy  inftances  of  the  miferable  effects  refulting 
from  an  ongoverned  temper.  A  certain  lady,  whom  I 
(hall  diftin;:uifh  by  the  name  ofHifpulla,  was  celebrated 
from  her  infancy  for  a  fine  complexion.  She  had,  in- 
deed, no  very  amiable  expreffion  in  her  eyes,  but  the  ver- 
milion of  her  cheeks  did  not  fail  to  attract  admiration, 
and  (he  was  convinced  by  herglafs,  and  by  the  affevera- 
tions  of  tl:e  young  men,  that  fhe  was  another  and  a  fairer 
Helen.  She  had  every  opportunity  of  improving  her 
mind  ;  but  as  we  naturally  bellow  our  firft  care  on  the 
quality  which  we  moft  value,  fhe  could  never  give  her 
attention  either  to  books  or  to  oral  inftruction,  and,  at 
the  age  of  fifteen  or  fixteen,  could  fcarcely  write  her 
name  legibly,  or  read  a  fentence  without  hefuation^ 
Her  perfonal  charms  were,  however,  powerful  enough 
to  captivate  the  heart  of  a  thoughtlefs  heir,  very  little 
older  than  herfelf.  Her  vanity,  rather  than  her  love, 
was  gratified  by  the  alliance;  and  when  fhe  found  the 
affiduities  of  promifcuous  fuitors  at  an  end,  fhe  found 
herfelf  gradually  finking  in  the  dead  calm  of  infipidity. 
When  love  was  no  more,  other  paffions  fprung  up  with 
all  the  luxuriancy  of  rank  weeds,  in  a  foil  where  no  fa- 
lutary  herb  has  been  planted  in  the  vernal  feafon.  Pride, 
that  fruitful  plant,  which  bears  every  kind  of  odious 
quality  in  abundance,  took  root  in  her  heart,  and 
floHrifhed,  like  the  aettle  or  the  hemlock,  on  the  banks 
of  the  ftagnant  pool. 

Her  hufband  was  the  firit  to  feel  its  baneful  effects. 

Though  the  match    was  greatly  to  her  advantage,  (he 

perfuaded  herfelf  that  fhe  might  have  dooe  better  ;  and 

7  that 


No.  122.  MORA  L,    &c.  r$£ 

that  her  good  fortune  was  by  no  means  adequate  to  the 
prize  which  her  beauty  and  merit  might  have  juftly 
claimed.  With  this  convidion,  and  without  any  habits 
or  abilities  which  might  lead  her  to  feek  amulement  in 
books,  fhe  found  no  diverfion  fo  congenial  to  her  heart, 
as  the  tormenting  a  good-natured,  young,  and  agreeable 
hufband,  who,  by  marrying,  had  excluded  her  from  the 
probability  of  a  title.  As  a  fmall  compenfation  for  the 
injury  received,  (he  a/Turned  an  abfolute  dominion  over 
him,  his  fortune,  and  his  family.  He  durll  not  differ 
in  opinion  from  her  ;  for  on  the  flighteft  oppofition,  her 
eyes  dart  fire,  her  cheeks  glow  with  indignation,  and  her 
tongue  utters  every  bitter  word  which  rage  and  malice 
can  dictate.  The  comfort  of  every  meal  is  poifoned  by 
a  quarrel ;  and  an  angry  vociferation  is  re-echoed  from 
the  parlour  to  the  kitchen,  from  the  cellar  to  the  garret, 
by  night  and  by  day,  except  in  the  awful  and  ominous, 
paufe  of  a  fallen  filence. 

The  poor  hufo.ind,  who,  with  every  amiable  difpofi- 
tion,  pcflbiTed  alfo  the  virtue  of  patience,  bore  the  evil 
as  long  as  human  nature  could  bear  it ;  but  as  years  ad- 
vanced, and  her  fury  increafed,  he  fought  a  refuge  at  the 
tavern,  and  in  the  compofing  juice  of  the  grape.  Excefs 
and  vexation  foon  laid  him  in  the  only  fecure  afylum 
from  the  flings  and  arrows  of  an  outrageous  temper,  the 
filent  tomb. 

The  children,  after  fuffering  every  fpecies  of  perfecu- 
tion  which  an  angry,  though  foolifhly  fond  mother,  could 
inflict,  no  fooner  arrived  at  maturity,  than  they  began  to 
look  for  happinefs  in  an  efcape  from  home,  where  neither 
peace  nor  eafe  could  find  a  place.  The  daughters  mar- 
ried meanly,  unworthily,  and  wretchedly,  contented  to 
take  refuge  from  the  rage  of  a  furious  mother  in  the  arms 
of  footmen  and  hair-dreflers.  The  fons  ran  away,  and 
became  vagrant  and  wretched  debauchees ;  till,  in  mere 
defpair,  one  of  them  enteiei  as  a  foldier  in  the  Eafi  India 
icrvice,  and  the  other  put  an  end  to  his  own  exiflence. 

The  mother,  after  fhedding  a  few  natural  tears,  and 
wiping  them  foon,  began  to  feel  her  pride  and  paflion 
amply  gratified  in  an  abfolute  dominion  over  an  eliate, 
a  manfion-houfe,  and  a  tribe  of  fervants,  whofe  depend- 
ant fuuation  made  them  bear  her  fury  with  little  refift- 

ance. 


160  ESSAYS,  No.  122. 

ance.  But  (he  enjoyed  her  reign  but  a  fhort  time;  for 
as  her  mind  was  incapable  of  refting  on  itfelf  for  fup- 
port,  fhe  fought  relief  from  the  bottle  of  cordial;  and, 
heated  one  day  with  a  large  draught,  and  a  violent  paflion 
with  one  of  the  maids,  (lie  burft  a  blood  vefTel,  and  ex- 
pired in  a  fcolding  fit,  her  tongue  ftill  quivering  after 
her  heart  had  ceafed  its  pulfation. 

I  believe  the  originals  of  fuch  a  pifture  as  this,  are 
much  lefs  common  in  the  prefent  age,  than  they  were 
in  the  laft  century.  Ladies  were  then  fecluded  from  the 
world  till  marriage,  and  as  they  were  very  fuperficially 
educated  in  every  thing  but  potting  and  preferving,  it  is 
no  wonder  if  they  became  termagants  or  viragos.  They 
had  no  right  ideas  of  themfelves  or  the  world  around, 
and  yielded,'  without  oppofition,  to  thofe  violent  emo- 
tions, which  arife,  perhaps,  in  every  mind  when  it  is 
totally  uncultivated. 

Culture  of  the  understanding  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  befl 
methods  of  fubduing  the  heart  to  foftnefs,  and  redeeming 
it  from  that  favage  ftate  in  which  it  too  often  comes  from 
the  hands  of  nature.  The  more  our  reafon  is  ftrength- 
ened,  the  better  fhe  is  enabled  to  keep  her  feat  on  the 
throne,  and  to  govern  thofe  paffions  which  were  appoint- 
ed to  be  her  fubjefts ;  but  which  too  often  rebel,  and 
fucceed  in  their  unnatural  revolt.  But,  befides  theeffeft 
of  mental  culture,  in  calling  forth  and  increafing  the 
powers  of  the  reafoning  faculty,  it  feems  to  poflefs  an 
influence  in  humanizing  the  feelings,  and  meliorating 
the  native  difpofition.  Mafic,  painting,  and  poetry, 
teach  the  mind  to  feleft  the  agreeable  parts  of  thofe  ob- 
jects which  furround  us,  and  by  habituating  it  to  a  pure 
and  permanent  delight,  gradually  fuperinduce  an  habi- 
tual good  humour.  It  is  of  infinite  importance  to  hap- 
pinefs  toaccuftom  the  mind,  from  infancy,  to  turn  from 
deformed  and  painful  fcenes,  and  to  contemplate  what- 
ever can  be  found  of  moral  and  natural  beauty.  The 
fpirits,  under  this  benign  management,  contract  a  milk- 
inefs,  and  learn  to  flow  all  cheerily  in  their  fmooth  and 
yielding  channels ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  if  the  young 
mind  is  teafed,  frette^,  and  neglected,  the  paflages  of 
the  fpirits  become  rugged,  abrupt,  exafpenited,  ^nd  the 
whole  nervous  fyilem  leems  to  acquire  an  exceiiive  irri- 
tability. 


No.  122.  MORAL,    &c.  161 

tability.  The  ill  treatment  of  children  has  not  only 
made  them  wretched  at  the  time,  but  wretched  for  life; 
tearing  the  fine  contexture  of  their  nerves,  and  roughen- 
ing;? by  example,  and  by  fome  fecret  and  internal  influ- 
ence, the  very  confutation  of  their  tempers. 

So  much  cf  the  happinefs  of  private  life,  and  the 
virtues  of  mothers  and  daughters,  in  particular,  depends 
on  the  government  of  the  temper,  that  the  temper  ought 
to  be  a  principal  object  of  regard  in  a  well-conducied 
education.  The  fuffering  of  children  to  tyrannize,  with- 
out controul,  over  fervants  and  inferiors,  is,  I  am  con- 
vinced, the  ruin  of  many  an  amiable  difpofition.  The 
virtues  of  humanity,  benevolence,  humility,  cannot  be 
too  early  enforced ;  at  the  fame  time  care  mould  be  taken 
that  an  infant  of  two  or  three  years  old  fliould  never  be 
beaten  c<r  fpoken  to  hardily  for  any  offence  which  it  can 
poffibly  commit.  In  fhort,  let  every  method  be  ufed 
which  reafon,  religion,  prudence,  and  experience  can 
fuggeft,  to  accomplifh  the  purpofe  of  fweetening  the 
temper,  and  baniming  the  furies  from  fociety.  May  the 
endeavours  be  fuccefsful ;  and  may  we  onlv  read,  that 
there  have,  indeed,  been  fuch  animals  as  mrews  and  vi- 
ragos, but  that  the  breed  is  extinct  in  England,  like  the 
breed  of  wolves ! 

I  have  been  much  pleafed  with  the  lovely  picture  of 
Serena,  in  Mr.  Hayley's  inltructive  poem,  the  Triumphs 
of  Temper  -,  and  I  cannot  conclude,  without  earneftly 
entreating  the  ladies  to  view  it  as  a  looking-glafs,  by 
which  they  may  learn  to  drefs  their  minds  in  a  manner 
which  can  never  be  out  of  fafhion  ;  but  which  will  enable 
them  to  fecure,  as  well  as  extend,  their  conquefls;  and 
to  charm,  even  when  the  lilies  and  rcfes  are  all  withered. 
If  the  poem  mould  effect  its  very  laudable  purpofe,  the 
Virtues,  the  Mufes,  and  the  Graces,  ihould  unite  to  form 
a  wreath  for  the  poet's  brow,  and  hail  him  as  the  re- 
llorer  of  a  golden  age.  While  every  mother,  wife,  and 
daugther,  afpires  at  the  virtues  of  a  Serena,  let  Alecto, 
.1,  and  Tifiphone,  be  confined  in  chains  to  the 
internal  regions,  and  forbidden  ever  more  to  arife  and 
aflurae  the  Ihape  of  a  Brhim  lady  ! 


No.  CXXIII. 


ESSAYS,  No.  123. 


No.    CXXIII.       ON    THE    MORAL   EFFECTS  OF 
A    GOOD    TRAGEDY. 


IT  is  with  regret  I  obferve,  that  a  tafte  for  the  nobleft 
part  of  theatrical  amufements,  the  reprefenrruion  of 
tragedy,  is  rather  on  the  decline.  It  ftrongly  marks  the 
frivolity  of  an  age,  when  the  bufldn  is  excluded  for  the 
fock,  and  the  public  attention  too  much  engaged  by 
dancers,  fingers,  and  harlequins,  to  adroit  the  ierious, 
yet  lively  pleasures  of  the  Tragic  Mufe. 

There  feems  to  me  to  be  no  method  more  effectual  of 
foftening  the  ferocity,  and  improving  the  minds,  of  the 
lower  clafles  of  a  great  capital,  than  the  frequent  exhi- 
bition of  tragical  pieces,  in  which  the  diftrefs  is  carried 
to  the  high-eft  extreme,  and  the  moral  at  once  lelf-evi- 
dent,  affecting,  and  inftrnftive.  The  multitudes  of  thofe 
who  cannot  read,  or,  if  they  could,  have  neither  time 
nor  abilities  for  deriving  much  advantage  from  reading, 
are  powerfully  impreffed,  through  the  medium  of  the  eyes 
and  ears,  with  thofe  important  truths,  which,  while  they 
illuminate  the  underftanding,  correct  and  mollify  the 
heart.  Benevolence,  juftice,  heroifm,  and  the  wifdom  (  f 
moderating  the  paflions,  are  plainly  pointed  out,  and 
forcibly  recommended  to  thofe  favage  fons  of  unculti- 
vated nature,  who  have  few  opportunities,  and  would 
have  no  inclination  for  inftruftion,  if  it  did  not  prefent 
itfelf  under  the  form  of  a  delightful  amufement.  The 
human  heart  in  general,  whether  it  beats  in  the  bofom  of 
him  who  has  been  improved  by  education,  or  of  the  neg- 
lected child  of  poverty,  is  taught  to  exercife  fome  of  its 
moll  amiable  propenfites  by  the  indulgence  of  cornmife- 
ration  in  fcenes  of  fancied  woe.  Were  the  Theatre  under 
certain  regulations,  a  man  might  go  to  it  as  he  goes  to 
church,  to  learn  his  duty,  and  it  might  juftly  be  honoured 
with  the  appellation,  which  it  has  often  affumed,  and  be 
called  the  School  of  Virtue. 

There  are  certainly  a  thoufand  tragedies  of  more  claf- 
Ccal  merit,  but  few  better  calculated  to  fave  the  numerous 

and 


No.  123.  MORA   L,     &c.  163 

and  important  clafles  of  the  plebeian  order  from  wallow- 
ing in  vice,  theft,  intemperance,  and  wretchednefs  of 
every  kind,  than  the  tragedy  of  George Barnwel!.  Com- 
mon and  illiterate  minds  cannot  follow  the  high  flights 
of  fublime  poetry,  nor  underftand  the  beauties  of  blank 
verfe;  but  the  language  of  Lillo  m  this  humble  tale,  is 
level  to  the  loweft  degree  of  intellect.  It  muft,  indeed, 
give  pleafure  to  every  friend  of  unaffuming  merit,  to  find 
the  due  tribute  of  applaufe  paid  to  the  modeit  Lillo  by 
one  of  the  beftof  all  modern  judges,  the  Critic  and  Phi- 
lofopher  of  Salisbury.  He,  whole  tafle  was  formed  on 
the  pureft  models,  and  corrected  by  the  ftricteft  rules,  has 
not  hefuated  to  place  the  Fatal  Curiofity  in  the  very  firft 
rank  of  dramatic  compofitions.  And  George  Barnwel), 
however  it  may  be  affectedly  defpifed  by  the  filly  vota- 
ries of  fafhion,  who  abominate  it  as  low,  deferve  no  lefs 
to  be  efteemed  for  its  moral  excellence,  than  the  other 
for  its  clallical.  It  has,  perhaps,  faved  as  many  from  an 
ignominious  end,  as  the  Beggars  Opera  has  haftened  to 
it.  That  any  moralift,  or  man  of  obiervation,  can  en- 
tertain a  doubt  concerning  the  effect  on  the  upper  gallery 
of  a  play  in  which  thieves  and  harlots  are  reprefented  as 
amiable  and  innocent  characters,  and  all  the  reft  of  fo- 
ciety  as  rogues,  evinces,  in  this  inftance,  an  ignorance 
of  human  nature.  2The  reprefentation  of  the  Beggars 
Opera  is  not  only  an  outrage  on  civilized  fociety,  but 
an  extreme  aft  of  cruelty  to  thofe  wretched  boys  and 
girls,  who  have  been  allured  to  the  paths  of  deftruction, 
by  viewing  them  thus  ftrewed  with  artificial  flowers  — 
Take  away  the  difgrace,  the  fliame,  and  the  firft  fine 
fenfibilities  of  timid  vice,  and  you  remove  a  reftraint,  the 
force  of  whofe  operation  neither  precepts  nor  laws  can 
ever  fupply.  Suppofe  a  country  lad,  with  all  his  native 
modeity. about  him,  allured  to  the  Theatre  by  the  Beg- 
gars Opera.  In  a  few  hours  he  undergoes  a  perfect  me- 
tamorphofis.  He  thinks  himfelf  illuminated,  and  de- 
fpifes  the  old  honell  folks  at  home,  who  have  hitherto 
confined  him,  as  he  fuppofes,  in  childifh  ignorance.  His 
perverted  ambition  takes  an  unfortunate  turn  ;  and  if  he 
arrives  not  at  the  honour  of  dying  like  a  Macheath,  he 
will  at  leaft  endeavour  to  deferve  it.  Such,  I  am  well 
aflured,  is  ofcen  a  true  cafe ;  but  even  the  miferable 

creatures 


ify  ESSAYS,  No.  123. 

creatures  who  are  far  gone  in  the  paths  which  lead 
through  villany  to  ruin  may  be  called  back  by  the  me- 
lancholy, tale  of  poor  George  Barnwell.  There  are 
many  other  Tragedies  in  the  Englifh  language  which 
"convey  admirable  morals  to  the  lower  clafTes,  and  have 
undoubtedly  refcued  many  a  wretch,  who  was  deaf  to  a 
parent's  voice  and  a  preacher's  admonition,  from  the 
dominion  of  an  evil  fpirit. 

But,  indeed,  there  is  no  clafs  of  the  people,  however 
refined  and  polifhed,  which  may  not  receive  fuch  benefits 
from  a  well-written  Tragedy,  a?  fcarcely  any  other  mode 
of  inftruftion  can  afford.  He  who  has  entered  into  all 
the  feelings  of  a  Shakefpeare,  an  Otway,  a  Rowe,  an 
Addifon,  may  be  faid  to  have  affimilated  with  their  fouls, 
and  fnatched  a  facred  fpark,  which  cannot  fail  to  kindle 
fomething  in  himfelf  refembling  the  etherial  fire  of  true 
genius.  His  nature  will  be  improved,  and  a  fpecies  of 
wifdom  and  elevation  of  fpirit,  which  was  in  vain  fought 
for  in  academic  groves,  may  at  laft  be  imbibed  in  the 
Theatres.  Philofophy  may  catch  a  warmth  of  the  dra- 
ma, which  is  capable  of  advancing  it  to  nobler  heights 
than  fhe  would  otherwife  have  attained.  SocrateK,  whofe 
benevolence  and  wifdom  appeared  to  have  fomething  of 
divinity,  was  the  voluntary  afliftant  of  Euripides  in  the 
compofition  of  his  tragedies ;  and  undoubtedly  was  of 
opinion,  that  he  taught  philofopy  to  inftruit  the  herd 
of  mankind  in  the  moft  effeclual  manner,  when  he  in- 
troduced her  to  their  notice  in  the  bufkin. 

Inftruftive,  entertaining,  animating,  and  ennobling, 
as  is  the  fpirit  of  the  tragic  mufe,  is  it  not  wonderful 
that  many  can  flight  its  efficacy,  or  view  its  fine  produc- 
tions on  the  ftage  with  perfect  infenfibility  ?  Vet,  he  who 
furveys  the  feats  in  the  theatre  where  opulence  a_nd  fafhion 
take  their  place,  will  find  many  a  painted  and  powdered 
figure  of  both  fexes,  which  appears  to  view  a  Lrar,  a 
Shore,  a  Hamlet,  and  a  Harlequin,  with  the  fame  heavy 
eye;  nor  fhews  one  emotion,  except  it  be  of  laughter, 
while  nature  is  moft  powerfully  attracting  the  {acred 
fountain  of  tears,  wherever  it  has  not  been  clofed  by 
affectation,  by  a  natural  or  an  acquired  flupidity.  It 
feems,  indeed,  to  be  a  part  of  the  contemptible  vanity 
which  characterizes  the  age,  to  laugh  at  public  fpeftacles 

when 


No.  123.  MORAL,    &c.  i6j 

when  others  are  ferious,  and  to  be  ferious  when  others 
laugh.  "  Who,  indeed,"  fays  the  fine  bred  lady, 
"  would  be  fincerely  affe&ed  by  any  thing  faid  or  done 
"  by  the  low  creatures  on  the  llage  ?" 

Some  fpeiflators,  on  the  other  hand,  lofe  all  the  effecl: 
of  the  piece  by  attending  to  the  identical  men  and  wo- 
men who  ad,  rather  than  to  the  characters  which  they 
reprefent.  They  alfo  admire  Mr.  or  Mrs.  fuch  an  one's 
coat,  gown,  cap,  fhoe,  leg,  or  hand,  but  forget  the  hero 
and  the  heroine,  the  poet  and  the  poem. 

The  talte  for  ridicule,  which  greatly  prevails  in  a 
mean,  felfifli,  debauched,  and  trifling  age,  contributes  to 
prevent  the  genuine  effect  of  Tragedy.  Great  laughers 
are  feldom  fufceptible  of  deep  or  ferious  impreflions. 
While  the  dead  lie  fcattered  on  the  itage,  and  every 
thing  is  prefented  to  the  view  which  ought  to  excite 
pity  and  terror,  the  joker  difiipates  the  fweet  forrow 
of  fympathy  by  the  introduction  of  a  ludicrous  idea. 
Ridicule  indeed,  feems  to  become  a  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  the  wicked,  deftru&ive  of  tafte,  feeling,  mo- 
rality, and  religion. 

The  addition  of  a  ludicrous  epilogue,  a  farce,  panto- 
mime entertainment,  and  of  dances  between  the  afts, 
has  often  been  lamented  as  deftruftive  of  the  effefts  of 
the  fineft  tragedy.  It  is  true,  that  they  who  live  topleafe, 
muft  pleafe  in  order  to  live  ;  and  therefore  the  players 
and  their  managers  arc;  not  culpable.  They  mull  not 
only  provide  manly  amufements  for  men,  but  childifh 
diverfions  for  children  and  fchool-boys.  Thefe  enter- 
tainments have,  indeed,  often  tha:  ingenuity  and  drollery 
in  them,  which  may,  at  a  proper  feafon,  relax  the  moll 
rigid  philofophy.  I  cenfure  not  the  things  themfelves, 
but  the  time  of  their  introduction.  After  the  foul  has 
been  deeply  imprefled  with  ferious  and  virtuous  fenti- 
ments,  it  is  furely  lamentable,  that  every  mark  fhould 
be  effaced  by  harlequins  and  buffoons.  It  mull  be  re- 
membered, that  I  am  fpeaking  only  of  the  moral  effefts 
cf  the  drair.a,  and  I  believe  every  one  will  agree,  that 
thefe  would  be  more  fuccefsfully  produced,  if  the  enter- 
tainment, as  it  is  called  by  way  of  eminence,  preceded 
the  Tragedy.  The  fpeftator  would  then  retire  to  his 
pillow  with  his  fancy  full  of  fine  poetic  images,  and  his 

heart 


*C6  ESSAY    S,  No,  124. 

Sieart  glowing  with  every  elevaled  idea  of  moral  refti- 
tude.  But  now,  his  feelings  are  fo  trifled  with  and  tan- 
talized, that  at  Jail  he  grows  callous  to  the  tendered 
pathos,  and  attends  the  theatre  merely  as  a  critic  in 
adling,  inftead  of  an  intercfted  partaker  in  the  fcenes 
which  pafs  in  review. 

In  times,  when  manly  minds  are  neceflary  to  fave  a 
finking  empire,  and  retard  the  decline  of  a  degene- 
rating people,  every  mode  of  improving  the  hearts  of 
the  community  at  large,  in  the  ferious  and  feverer  vir- 
tues, ought  to  be  applied  with  avidity.  The  Theatre 
opens  a  fine  fchool  for  the  accomplifhment  of  this  end  ; 
and  it  would  certainly  contribute  gicatly  to  accelerate 
the  general  improvement,  if  there  were  lefs  fmging, 
dancing,  and  buffoonery,  and  more  Tragedy.  But 
fome  great  man,  by  which  epithet  I  mean,  in  this 
place,  a  titled  and  fafhionable  man,  muft  fet  the  ex- 
ample of  admiring  it,  or  elfe  all  the  mufes  themfelves 
might  rack  their  inventions  in  compofmg  the  melan- 
choly tale,  with  no  other  effecV  than  that  of  diffufing 
fleep  or  fmiles  throughout  Pit,  Box,  and  Gallery. 

It  is  remarkable  that,  fmce  this  Paper  was  publifhed, 
Tragedy  has  become  fafhionable.  I  mean  not  to  claim 
the  merit  of  producing  this  change  ;  but  I  cannot  help 
feeling  a  fatisfa&ion  in  it,  as  it  is  certainly  conducive 
to  national  reformation. 


NO.  CXXIV.  ON  "THE  INFLUENCE  OF  POLI^- 
TICS,  AS  A  SUBJECT  OF  CONVERSATION^ 
ON  THE  STATE  OF  LITERATURE. 


IT  is  a  mark  of  the  focial  and  public  fpirit  of  this  na- 
tion, that  there  is  fcarcely  a  member  of  it  who  does 
not  beftow  a  very  confiderable  portion  of  his  time  and 
thoughts  in  ftudying  its  political  welfare,  its  intereft, 
and  its  honour.  Though  this  general  taile  for  politics, 
from  the  higheft  to  the  loweft  orders  of  the  people,  has 
afforded  fubje&s  for  comic  ridicule,  yet  I  cannot  help 

considering 


No.  124.          MORA    I-,      fee.  i6j 

confidering  it  both  as  a  proof  of  uncommon  liberality, 
and  as  one  of  the  firmeil  fupports  of  civil  liberty.  It 
kindles  and  keeps  alive  an  ardent  love  of  freedom.  It 
has  hitherto  preferred  that  glorious  gift  of  God  from 
the  rude  hand  of  tyranny,  and  tends,  perhaps,  more 
than  any  other  caufe,  to  communicate  the  noble  fire  of 
true  patriotism  to  the  bofoms  of  polterity.  While  we 
watch  vigilantly  over  every  political  meafure,  and  com- 
municate an  alarm  through  the  empire,  with  a  fpeed 
almoft  equal  to  the  Ihock  of  electricity,  there  will  be  no 
danger  left  a  King  fhould  eitablifh  defpotifm,  even 
though  he  were  to  invade  the  rights  of  his  people  at  the 
head  of  his  Handing  army. 

But  as  zeal  without  knowledge  is  fubveriive  of  the 
purpofe  which  it  means  to  promote  ;  it  becomes  a  true 
friend  to  his  country,  to  endeavour  to  unite  with  the  love 
of  liberty  the  love  of  knowledge.  It  unfortunately 
happens,  that  political  fubjecls  are  of  fo  warm  and  ani- 
mating a  nature,  that  they  not  only  appear  to  intereft 
in  a  very  high  degree,  but  to  enjyofs  the  attention.  The 
newfpapers  form  the  whole  library  of  the  politician,  the 
coffee-houfe  is  his  fchool,  and  he  prefers  the  Gazette, 
and  an  acrimonious  pamphlet,  for  or  againil  the  mi- 
niitry,  to  all  that  was  ever  written  by  a  Homer,  or  dif- 
covered  by  a  Newton. 

To  be  a  competent  judge  either  of  political  meafures 
or  events,  it  is  neceffary  to  pofl'efs  an  enlightened  un- 
derftanding,  and  the  liberal  fpirit  of  philofophy  ;  it  is 
necerTary  to  have  read  hiftory,  and  to  have  formed 
right  ideas  of  the  nature  of  man  and  of  civil  fociety. 
But  I  know  not  how  it  happens,  the  molt  ignorant  and 
paffionate  are  apt  to  be  the  molt  decifive  in  delivering 
their  fentiments  on  the  very  complicated  fubjefls  of 
political  controverfy.  A  man,  whofe  education  never 
extended  beyond  writing  and  the  four  rules,  will  de- 
termine at  once,  and  with  the  moft  authoritative  air, 
fuch  queilions  as  would  perplex  the  wifelt  ftatefman 
adorned  with  all  human  learning,  and  aflifted  by  the 
experience  and  advice  of  the  molt  cultivated  perfons  in 
the  nation.  Even  gentlemen,  according  to  the  com- 
mon acceptation  of  that  title,  or  thofe  who  have 
fortunes,  and  have  received  the  common  inftruftion 

of 


i63  ESSAY     S,  No.  124. 

of  the  times,  are  feldom  able  to  judge  with  propriety 
in  politics,  though  they  are  ufually  inclined  to  dictate 
with  paffion.  Is  it  poffible  that,  from  having  learnt 
only  the  firft  elements  of  Latin  anu  French,  and  the  arts 
of  dancing,  fencing,  and  fiddling,  in  perfection,  a  man 
fhould  be  qualified,  I  do  not  fay  to  fit  as  a  Senator, 
but  to  expatiate,  with  fufficient  judgment  and  intelli- 
gence, on  the  propriety  and  nature  of  any  public  tranf- 
action,  or  fyftem  of  government  ?  But  he  is  worth  an 
eftate  of  a  thoufand  a  year,  and  therefore,  though  all 
his  other  merit,  in  kind  and  degree,  may  be  like  that 
of  a  mafter  of  the  ceremonies,  or  that  of  a  fkilful  groom 
and  whipper-in,  he  thinks  he  has  a  right  to  give  law 
to  the  neighbourhood  in  political  converfation.  His 
ideas  are  confined  to  narrow  li:i  its ;  and  as  his  patrio- 
tifm  is  for  the  moll  part  fpite,  ib  his  fupport  of  a  mi- 
niflry  is,  in  fome  refpects,  felf-intereft.  It  muft  be  fo  ; 
for  a  man,  whofe  mind  is  not  enlarged  and  cultivated, 
cannot  entertain  fo  liberal  a  fyftem  of  opinions  as  thole 
of  real  patriotifm. 

But  even,  among  perfons  whofe  minds  are  fufficiently 
improved  to  diilinguifh  and  purfue  the  good  of  man 
and  of  fociety,  independently  either  of  paffion  or  of 
private  advantage,  the  rage  for  politics  often  proceeds 
too  far,  and  abforba  all  other  objects.  In  vain  does 
the  hand  of  art  prefent  the  picture  or  repeat  the  melody 
of  mufic  ;  for  the  eye  is  blind,  the  ear  is  deaf  to  all 
but  the  news  and  the  hewfpaper.  Poetry,  philology, 
elegant  and  polite  letters,  in  all  their  ramifications, 
difplay  their  alluring  charms  in  vain  to  him,  whole 
head  and  heart  ftill  vibrate  v/ith  the  harm  and  dii- 
cordant  founds  of  a  political  difpute  at  the  tavern. 
Thofe  books,  whofe  tendency  is  only  to  promote  ele- 
gant pleafures  or  advance  fcience,  which  flatter  no 
party,  and  gratify  no  malignant  paffion,  are  fnffcrcd 
to  fall  into  oblivion  ;  while  a  pamphlet,  which  efpoufes 
the  cauie  of  any  political  men  or  meafures,  however 
inconfiderable  its  literary  merit,  is  extolled  as  one  of 
the  firlt  productions  of  modern  literature.  But  meagre 
is  the  food  furnifhed  to  the  mind  of  man  by  the  decla> 
mation  of  a  party  bigot.  From  a  tafle  for  trafh,  and  a 
difrelifh  of  the  wholefome  food  of  the  mind,  and  from 

the 


No.  124.  MORAL,    Sec.  169 

the  confequent  negleft  of  folid  learning,  mere  politi- 
cians are  prevented  from  receiving  valuable  improve- 
ment ;  and  the  community,  together  with  literature, 
is  at  laft  deeply  injured.  For  when  learning  is  little 
refpefted,  it  will  naturally  decline;  and  that  the 
mental  darknefs  confequent  on  its  decline,  leads  to  the 
eftablimment  of  defpotifm,  every  one  who  has  furveyed 
the  pictures  of  mankind,  as  pourtrayed  by  the  pencil  of 
hiftory,  will  immediately  acknowledge.  What  did 
Athens  and  Rome  retain  of  their  antient  dignity  when, 
their  learning  and  their  arts  were  no  more  ?  That  the 
light  of  learning  mould  ever  again  be  extinguifhed,  may 
appear  a  vifionary  idea  to  an  Englifliman  ;  but  fo  ic 
did  to  a  Roman,  in  the  days  of  Cicero.  Notwithftand- 
ing  the  multiplication  of  books  by  the  art  of  printing, 
both  they,  and  all  value  for  them,  may  vanifh,  toge- 
ther with  the  power  of  underftanding  them,  if  the  fury 
of  politics  mould  occafion  a  contempt  for  letters  and  for 
education,  and  mould  convert  the  leaders  of  a  people 
into  Goths  and  Vandals. 

He  who  would  add  an  elegance  to  politics,  and 
diftinguim  his  converfation  on  the  fubjed  from  the 
vociferation  of  porters  in  an  alehoufe,  mould  infpeft 
the  fmimed  pieces  of  antiquity,  and  learn  to  view  pub- 
lic adls  and  counfels  in  the  light  in  which  they  ap- 
peared to  thofe  whom  the  world  has  long  confidered 
as  fome  of  the  beft  and  politeft  teachers  of  political  wif- 
dom.  If  he  poflefTes  not  tafte  enough  to  relim  the  works 
of  poetical  imagination,  let  him  confine  himfelf  to 
fuch  authors  as  Thucydides  and  Xenophon,  Polybiug 
and  Plutarch,  Livy  and  Salluit.  Politics  will  affume 
new  grace  by  communicating  with  hiftory  and  philo- 
fophy  ;  and  political  converfation,  inftead  of  a  vague, 
paflionate,  and  declamatory  effufion  of  undigefted  ideas, 
will  become  a  moft  liberal  exercife  of  the  faculties,  and 
form  a  mental  banquet,  at  which  the  beft  and  wifeft 
of  mankind  might  indulge  their  finer  appetites  with, 
infatiable  avidity.  What  can  conllitute  a  more  rational 
objeft  of  contemplation  than  the  noble  fabric  of  fociety, 
civilized  by  arts,  letters,  and  religion  ?  What  can  bet- 
ter employ  our  fagacity,  than  to  devife  modes  for  its  im- 
provement and  prefervation  ? 

VOL.  II.  I  Not 


173  ESSAYS,  No.  125. 

Not  only  the  underftanding,  the  tafte,  the  temper  of  a 
people,  but  the  fpirit  alfo,  will  be  greatly  improved  by 
learning  politics  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  No  man  of 
feeling  ever  yet  read  Livy  without  learning  to  deteft 
fiavery,  and  to  glow  with  a  love  and  emulation  of  public 
virtue.  The  Greek  and  Roman  fpirit  cannot  be  too  much 
encouraged  by  thofe  who  have  a  juft  idea  of  the  dignity 
of  a  true  Englifhman,  and  defire  to  maintain  it.  And. 
let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  Athenians,  in  their  moil 
glorious  periods,  were  as  much  attached  to  politics  and 
news  as  Britons  ever  were;  but  that  they  preferved, 
amidft  the  warmeft  conteft,  a  refined  tafte  and  delicate 
paifion  for  the  politeft  learning,  and  the  profoundeft 
philofophy. 


No.  CXXV.      ON    BUFFOONERY    IN    CONVER- 
SATION. 


IT  is  fweet,  fays  the  agreeable  poet  of  Venufium, 
to  lay  afide  our  wifdom,  and  to  indulge,  on  a  pro- 
per occafion,  a  fpecies  of  temporary  folly.  He,  indeed, 
muft  be  outrageoufly  fevere,  who  would  prohibit  any 
pleafing  mode  of  paffing  our  leifure  hours,  while  it  is 
confident  with  innocence,  and  the  nature  of  a  being 
eminently  diftinguifhed  by  the  fine  faculties  of  reafon, 
fancy,  memory,  and  reflection.  Charming  is  the 
foc'.al  hour  when  folidity  of  judgment  is  enlivened  by 
brilliancy  of  wit,  and  the  lively  fallies  of  imagination 
by  a  fweet  interchange  of  pen/ive  gravity.  Eafe,  free- 
dom, and  the  unftudied  efFuTIon  of  the  fentiments 
which  naturally  arife  in  cultivated  minds,  form  a  very 
delightful  recreation  ;  and  difmifs  the  mind  to  its 
ferious  empiovments  with  new.alacrity.  Thofe  among 
the  antients,  who  were  moll  celebrated  for  their  wifdom, 
were  remarkable  for  a  cheerful  and  equable  gaiety,  and 
often  diverted  themfelves,  in  their  intervals  of  feverer 
meditation,  with  jefts  and  drollery.  Who  more  cheer- 
ful than  the  gentle  Socrates?  Who  more  delighted  with 
a  joke  than  the  dignified  Cicero  ?  But,  at  the  fame 
7  time, 


No.  125.  MORAL,     &c.  171 

time,  they  were  equally  capable  of  maintaining  a  legiti- 
mate converfation  in  all  its  gravity  and  elegance.  The 
converfations  of  Socrates,  preserved  by  his  eloquent 
difuples,  breathe  a  wifdom  approaching  to  divine  ; 
and  Cicero's  book,  de  Orafore,  is  one  of  the  noblefl 
monuments  of  polimed  urbanity,  as  are  many  of  his 
philofophical  pieces  of  fpeculative  wifdom. 

But  there  prevails,  at  prefent,  a  tafle  for  low  and 
noify  mirth,  which  totally  precludes  all  delicacy  of 
fentiment,  all  exercife  of  reafon  and  invention,  and  al- 
moft  degrades  us  to  the  level  of  thofe  ludicrous  animals, 
whom  nature  has  rendered  fo  wonderfully  expert  in 
the  art  of  mimickry.  Many  perfons,  who  imagine  them- 
felves  remarkably  endowed  with  humour,  and  the 
power  of  delighting  whatever  company  they  deign 
to  blefs  with  their  prefence,  are  apt  to  give  their 
tongues  a  licence  to  wander  without  the  reins  of  judg- 
ment, to  afteft  uncommon  expreffions,  attitudes,  gri- 
maces, and  modes  of  addrefs  and  behaviour;  and  to 
imagine,  that  oddity  is  humour,  eccentricity  wit, 
downright  nonfenfe  prodigioufly  droll,  and  rudenefs 
infinitely  entertaining.  If  the  company  are  as  foolifh  as 
the  pretended  wit;  or,  indeed,  if  they  are  very  polite 
and  good-natured,  they  feldom  refufe  the  eafy  tribute 
of  a  laugh,  either  real  or  affecled  ;  and  the  joker,  ani- 
mated by  his  fancied  encouragement,  proceeds  in  his  ex- 
travagant fallies,  till  his  afTumed  folly  approaches  very 
nearly  to  real  idiotifm.  In  the  mean  time,  as  he  draws 
the  attention  of  the  company  on  himfelf,  and  engrofles 
all  the  time  and  talk,  he  not  only  lowers  himfelf,  <but 
prevents  others  from  rifing ;  relaxes  the  tone  of  his  own 
mind,  and  of  all  around,  to  a  itate  of  imbecility,  and  at 
once  prevents  the  opportunity  and  the  power  of  uttering 
a  fingle  idea  worth  remembrance.  Noife  and  laughter 
are  but  meagre  food  for  the  mind  ;  and  however  pleafed 
people  may  appear,  they  commonly  retire  from  the 
company  in  which  thefe  have  formed  the  only  entertain- 
ment, with  an  unfatisfied  and  uneafy  vacuily,  with  dif- 
gull  and  difagreeable  reflexion. 

It  very  often  happens,  that  thefe  facetious  gentlemen 

rely    upon    more    expeditious    methods    of    becoming 

frodigioujly  enttrtaining  than  any  thing  which  requires 

I  2  utterance. 


I72  ESSAYS,  No.  125. 

utterance.  They  enter  a  room,  and  fit  down  gravely, 
with  their  wigs  on  one  fide,  or  with  the  back  part 
of  it  over  their  forehead.  They  take  great  delight  in 
the  practical  joke ;  and  if  they  can  pick  your  pocket 
of  your  handkerchief,  fmut  your  face,  draw  your  chair 
from  under  you,  or  make  you  a  fool,  as  they  call  it, 
they  confider  themfelves  as  other  Yoricks,  and  as  fel- 
lows of  infinite  humour,  endowed  with  peculiar  talents 
for  fetting  the  table  on  a  roar.  It  might,  indeed,  be 
faid  with  truth,  that  they  literally  make  fools  of  them- 
felves, and  appear  ambitious  of  fupplying  that  order 
which  was  once  very  common,  but  is  now  either  a  little 
out  of  fafhion,  or  introduced  in  difguife  ;  I  mean  the 
order  of  profefled  and  hireling  fools,  for  the  amufement 
of  the  nobility.  It  has  indeed  been  jocularly  faid,  that 
many  of  the  nobility  in  the  prefent  age,  execute  the 
office  in  their  own  perfons  to  fave  expence. 

Now,though  there  were  nothing  criminal  in  buffoone- 
ry, yet  as  it  tends,  when  too  long  continued,  to  weaken 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  to  exclude  all  attention  to  any 
thing  ferious,  and  to  divert  converfation  of  its  power  of 
affording  improvement  as  well  as  pleafure,  it  is  certainly 
to  be  wiihed  that  it  were,  in  fome  meafure,  reflrained. 
J  fay  reftrained  only  ;  for  I  do  not  know  any  juft  reafon 
why  any  method  of  innocently  amufmg  the  mind, 
during  a  fhort  interval  of  iiiaftion,  fhould  be  utterly 
forbidden.  Man  is  an  animal  that  delights  in  variety; 
mirth  and  mimickry,  jeft  and  jollity,  quips  and  cranks 
and  ivanfon  wiles  and  laughter,  holding  both  his  fides, 
are  certainly  no  lefs  allowable  as  the  means  of  relax- 
ation, than  cards,  backgammon,  billiards,  and  the 
bottle.  He  is  wile  who  requires  moderation  in  all  thefe 
indulgences  ;  but  he  who  inveighs  again  ft  any  of  them 
in  the  grofs,  and  without  exception,  has  taken  a  falfe 
eftimate  of  human  nature,  and  is  not  to  be  confidered 
as  a  moralift,  but  £s  a  declaimer.  If  any  one  rule 
will  admit  of  univerfai  application,  it  is  that  which  di- 
reds  us  to  obferve  the  goiden  mean. 

I  could  never  admire  fhe  wifdom  of  certain  felf- 
elefted  legiflators  of  graceful  behaviour,  who  feem  to 
forbid  us  to  laugh,  with  much  greater  ilriftnefs  than  they 
would  have  prohibited  the  violacion  of  the  decalogue. 

To 


No.  125.  MORAL,    &c.  173 

To  be  remarkable  for  laughing,  is  not  only  ungraceful, 
but  a  fign  of  folly.  But  God  has  diftinguifhed  man  by 
the  power  of  rifibility,  and  there  is  no  reafon  why  he 
mould  not  exercife  it  on  proper  occafions ;  and,  perhaps, 
there  would  be  no  occafion  more  proper,  than  when 
a  difciplined  fop  fhews  by  his  behaviour,  that  he  pre- 
fers the  varnifti  of  external  grace  to  honour  and  to 
honefty. 

Wit,  it  has  been  faid,  does  not  naturally  excite 
laughter.  But  this  obfervation,  though  true  in  part, 
is  not  univerfally  true;  for  wit,  united  with  humour, 
poflefies  fuch  a  command  of  the  rifible  mufcles,  that  he 
mult  be  a  ftoic,  or  a  very  ill-natured  man,  who  is  able 
to  refill  the  impulfe.  I  mould,  indeed,  have  no  fa- 
vourable opinion  of  that  man's  heart  or  difpofition, 
who  could  be  prefent  at  a  truly  comic  fcene  without 
laying  afide  his  feverity,  and  making  his  fides  with  as 
much  glee  as  the  ingenuous  child  of  nature.  And  if 
it  is  a  weaknefs  not  to  be  able  to  refrain  from  laughter 
at  a  ludicrous  object,  it  is  a  weaknefs  of  all  others  the 
moft  pardonable  ;  and  it  is  furely  better  to  be  weak  than 
malignant.  But,  in  truth,  the  weaknefs  confifts  only 
in  laughing'  immoderately,  or  frequently  without  an 
adequate  object. 

Jn  every  convivial  meeting  of  elegant  and  polifhed 
company,  the  Mufes  and  the  Graces  mould  be  of  the 
party.  rPiu1  firft  honours  and  attention  fhould  be  paid 
to  them;  but  let  not  Comus  and  Jocus  be  forbidden 
to  follow  in  their  train,  and  under  their  command. 
The  entertainment  will  be  thus  heightened  and  varied, 
and  good  fenfe  and  decorum  derive  new  iuibre  from 
good-humour.  We  would,  indeed,  reitrain  that  ex- 
cefiive  and  rude  mirth  which  originates  in  levity  and 
folly,  and  becomes  what  is  called  buffoonery  ;  but  far 
be  it  from  us  to  banim  that  fprightlincfs  which  naturally 
refults  from  the  gaiety  of  innocence.  Joy,  while  we 
are  blelTed  with  health  and  eafe,  and  what  the  ftoics, 
call  EUROIA,  or  the  well  flowing  of  the  llream  of  life, 
is  gratitude  and  obedience. 


I  3  No.  CXXVI. 


174  ESSAYS,  No.  126. 


No.  CXXVI.    ON    THE    STYLE    OF  XENOPHON 
AND    PLATO. 


WRITERS,  who  have  difplayed  any  of  that 
uniform  peculiarity  in  their  ftyle  which  renders 
it  eafily  imitable,  however  popular  they  may  become 
at  their  firft  appearance  by  gratifying  the  paflion  for 
novelty,  are  by  no  means  the  moft  perfeifl  writers ;  but 
are  to  be  clafled  with  thofe  artifts  of  the  pencil,  whom 
the  painters  diilinguiih  by  the  appellation  of  Mannerifts. 
Simplicity  of didion,  as  it  is  one  of  the  moft  engaging 
beauties,  is  alfo  one  of  the  moft  difficult  to  imitate. 
It  exhibits  no  prominency  of  feature,  but  difplays  one 
whole,  properly  embellifhed  with  a  thoufand  little 
graces,  no  one  of  which  obtrudes  itfelf  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner as  to  deftroy  the  appearance  of  a  perfect  fymmetry. 
In  this  fpecies  of  excellence  Xenophon  is  confeffedly 
a  model.  He  has  been  called  the  Attic  Mufe  and  the 
Attic  Bee.  It  has  been  faid,  that  the  Mufes  would 
cxprefs  themfelves  in  his  language,  that  his  ftyle  is 
fweeter  than  honey,  that  the  Graces  themfelves  appear 
to  have  aflifted  in  its  formation  ;  but  though  all  this 
praife  is  jultly  due,  yet  it  would  be  difficult  to  point 
out  any  one  beauty  which  recurs  fo  often  in  the  fame 
form,  as  to  characterife  his  compofition. 

But  the  numerous  writers  who  have  imitated  the 
Rambler,  or  the  Adventurer,  are  difcovered  in  their 
affectation,  before  the  reader  has  perufed  a  lingle  page. 
The  very  peculiar  manner  of  thofe  excellent  perform- 
ances has  been  eafily  imitated  by  inferior  writers,  and 
more  eafily  caricatured.  Addifon  is  fimple  and  natural, 
and,  confequently,  has  not  often  been  mimicked  with 
equal  fuccefs.  Indeed,  the  nearer  we  approach  to 
the  manner  of  Addifon,  the  more  agreeable  is  our 
ftyle ;  but,  I  believe,  none  ever  admired  the  ftyle  of 
the  Rambler,  but  in  the  hands  of  its  original  author. 
The  fatirical  writer  of  Lexiphanes  eafily  rendered  it 

ridiculous ; 


No.  126.  MORAL,    &c.  175 

ridiculous  *.  and  though,  in  fome  of  Aikm's  profaic 
pieces,  there  is  a  very  ferious  and  good  imitation  of  it, 
yet  we  are  rather  difpofed  to  fmile  than  admire.  Af- 
feftation  always  borders  on  burlefque ;  but  a  manner, 
which  derives  its  graces  from  nature,  cannot  be  ren- 
dered ridiculous.  The  ftyle  of  Xenophon,  like  the 
philofopher  whom  he  records,  is  proof  againft  the 
fportive  and  malignant  buffoonery  of  an  Ariftophanes. 

It  is  however  certain,  that  every  beauty  cannot  be 
combined  under  one  form.  If  the  ftyle  of  Xenophon 
difplays  grace,  eafe,  and  fvveetnefs ;  it  is  deficient  in 
magnificence,  in  weight,  in  authority,  and  in  dignity. 
But  it  mould  be  remembered,  that  the  Venus  of  Medici 
is  not  to  be  cenfured,  becaufe  it  wants  the  nerves  and 
mufcles  of  the  Farnefian  Hercules.  It  appears  to  me, 
however,  that  though  fome  of  the  moft  popular  writers 
of  England  yield  to  Xenophon  in  the  fofter  graces, 
they  greatly  excel  him  in  mafculine  beauty.  The 
authors  of  the  Rambler,  of  the  Adventurer,  and  fome  of 
their  imitators,  will  be  found  to  poffefs  a  fuperiority  in 
this  refpeft,  on  a  fair  comparifon.  Indeed,  if  there  were 
more  Angularities  and  deviations  from  fimplicity  than  are 
to  be  found  in  thofe  volumes,  their  excellent  fenfe  and 
fine  morality  ought  to  exalt  their  authors  to  a  degree  of 
honour,  far  fuperior  to  any  which  can  be  derived  from  a 
fkill  in  compofition. 

According  to  the  opinions  of  the  beft  judges,  an- 
tient  and  modern,  the  greateft  mafter  of  the  beauties 
of  ftyle  whom  the  world  ever  faw,  was  the  divine 
Plato.  The  antients  hefitated  not  to  aflert,  in  the  zeal 
of  their  admiration,  that  if  Jupiter  were  to  fpeak 
in  the  language  of  Greece,  he  would  infallibly  ex- 
prefs  himfelf  in  the  diftion  of  Plato.  He  poflefled 
the  art  of  combining  feverity  with  grace,  and  fweet- 
nefs  with  grandeur;  and  to  him  we  owe  a  iimilar 
combination,  in  the  great  orator  and  philofopher  of 
Rome,  who  formed  his  ftyle  on  the  model  of  Plato  ; 
and  has  given  us  a  refemblance  fcarcely  lefs  exaft  than 
that  of  the  bult  to  its  mould,  or  of  the  waxen  feal  to  the 
fculptured  gem. 

The   introductions    to    the    dialogues  of  Cicero  are 

always  peculiarly  beautiful  ;  fo  alfo  are  thofe  of  Plato. 

I  4  It 


176  ESSAYS,  No.  126. 

It  is  agreeable  to  call  to  mind  the  fweet  fpot  which 
Plato  repreients  as  the  fcenes  where  the  dialogues  pafled, 
in  language  no  lefs  delightful  than  the  fcene  itfelf. 

The  river  Ili/Tus  glided  over  the  pebbles  in  a  clear 
fiream,  but  fo  {hallow  that  you  might  have  walked 
through  it  without  any  great  inconvenience.  At  a 
i'mall  diftance  rofe  a  tall  plane  tree,  fpreading  its  broad 
foliage  to  a  coaliderable  diltance,  and  flourifhing  in  all 
the  inature  luxuriance  of  fummer  beauty.  At  the  root 
of  the  tree  ifTued  a  fpring,  dedicated  to  Achelous  and 
the  Nymphs,  and  remarkable  for  its  cool  and  limpid 
water.  The  foftefl  herbage  grew  round  its  little  banks, 
the  verdure  of  which  was  rendered  perpetual  by  the 
refreshing  moiflure  of  the  fpring,  as  it  flowed  down  a 
gentle  declivity.  A  fweet  and  cooling  breeze  generally 
breathed  along  the  made,  and  great  numbers  of  Cicada?, 
taking  fhelter  from  the  fun,  reforted  to  the  coverts, 
and  made  an  agreeable  kind  of  natural  mufic  with  their 
little  notes,  which  feldom  ceafed.  Plato  adds  feveral  other 
agreeable  heightenings  of  the  fcene,  in  which  moral 
and  philofcphical  beauty  was  to  emulate  the  beauties  of 
'••nature.  The  language  of  Plato  adds  charms  to  the 
whole,  as  variegated  colours  illuminate  and  embellifli 
the  plain  fketches  of  the  chalk  or  pencilled  outline. 

It  is  no  wonder  thatphilofophy,  recommended  by  fuch 
graces  as  thefe,  was  found  to  render  her  votaries  en- 
amoured. Virtue  and  public  fpirit  can  fcarcely  ever 
want  their  admirers  and  followers,  when  they  are  deco- 
rated in  a  manner  which  fets  off  their  own  lovelinefs. 
to  the  greateft  advantage.  It  is  to  be  lamented,  for  the 
fake  of  virtue,  that  Lord  Shaftelbury  was  a  fceptic.  His 
ftyle  was  a  fine  imitation  of  Plato,  and  difplays 
fuch  beauties,  as  might  conceal  the  uglinefs  of  a  de- 
formed fyftem.  Mr.  Harris  has  alfo  exhibited  the 
Platonic  graces  in  high  perfection  ;  and  1  cannot  help 
confidering  it  as  a  mark  of  defective  tafle  that  he  is  not 
more  popular.  His  ftyle  appears  to  be  one  of  the  moil 
elegant,  claffical,  and  judicioufiy  ornamented  among 
all  the  Englim  writers  of  the  prefent  century.  They 
who  have  raifed  their  tafle  fo  as  to  perceive  his  beauties, 
will  confider  the  ftyle  of  many  writers,  whom  they  once 
ftdmired,  as  comparatively  barbarous.  He  who  never 

tafted 


No.  126.  MORAL,     &c.  177 

tafted  the   pine-apple,    the  peach,  and  the  nectarine, 
bly  fuppofe  i" 


may  probably  fuppofe  that  he  enjoys  the  moil  exquifite 
flavour  of  the  fruit  garden  while  he  is  feafting  on  a 
pippin  ;  as  he,  who  never  partook  of  the  pippin,  may 
devour  a  crab,  and  admire  it  as  a  delicacy. 

A  critic  of  antiquity,  Dionyfius  the  Halicarnaflian, 
has  difcovered  many  and  great  faults  in  the  ftyle  of 
Plato.  He  feems  to  think  the  epithets  too  poetical,  the 
metaphors  too  bold,  the  matter  too  allegorical.  Pom- 
pey  the  Great  difputed  the  point  with  him  ;  and  there 
is  a  curious  letter  extant  on  the  fubjedl,  from  the 
critic  to  the  ftatefman.  It  is,  indeed,  obvious  to  re- 
mark, that,  though  Plato  would  not  admit  Homer 
into  his  republic,  he  has  admitted  many  of  his  beauties 
into  his  ftyle ;  and  has  often  written  with  an  enthu- 
fiaftic  warmth,  which  they,  who  have  not  partaken  of 
the  afflatus  to  which  he  fomewhere  pretended,  cannot 
entirely  approve.  A  cold  critic,  like  Dionyfius,  would 
naturally  be  difgufted  with  it;  but  we  cannot  liften  to 
his  cenfures  of  a  noble  genius,  who  fnatched  graces  be- 
yond the  reach  of  art ;  whom  Pompey  approved,  and 
whom  Tully  almoft  idolized.  When  fpecirnens  of  perfeft 
compofition  were  to  be  pointed  out,  the  choice  has 
fallen  on  the  Georgics  of  Virgil,  and  the  Menexenus  of 
Plato. 

Both  Xenophon  and  Plato  difplay,  what  is  more  va- 
luable than  all  verbal  elegance,  a  fine  fyftem  of  morality, 
which  long  (hone  forth  in  the  world  as  a  light  unequal- 
led, till  the  Sun  of  revelation  arofe.  If  Xenophon's  me- 
moirs were  diverted  of  a  few  fuperfl uities  and  a  few  abfur- 
dities,  I  mould  not  fear  to  afiert,  that  they  approach 
very  nearly  to  the  Gofpel,  in  the  exhibition  of  inftrudive 
leflbns,  and  a  fublime,  yet  encouraging  example,  ef  all 
human  excellence;  for,  with  refped  to  the  calumnies 
advanced  againft  Socrates,  they  undoubtedly  origi- 
nated from  the  father  of  lies.  And  thofe  writers  are  to 
be  efteemed  the  enemies  to  human  virtue  and  happinefs, 
who  employ  their  ingenuity  in  detracting  from  illuftrious 
and  eftabliihed  reputation. 


No.  CXXVII. 


17-8  ESSAYS,  No.  127. 


No.   CXXVII.      ON     THE    ADVANTAGES     DE- 
RIVABLE FROM  NATIONAL  ADVERSITY. 


IT  is  very  certain  that  national  profperity,  as  It  is 
comprehended  in  the  idea  of  numerous  fleets  and 
armies,  of  extenfive  empire,  large  revenues,  advan- 
tageous commerce,  and  a  profufion  of  money  in  fpecie, 
is  a  kind  of  good  by  no  means  neceffarily  connected 
with  moral  good,  or  with  the  fubftantial  happinefs  of 
individuals.  It  makes  a  fplendid  figure  in  imagina- 
tion's eye  ;  but  to  reafon,  it  appears  in  a  very  queftion- 
able  fhape,  and  experience  is  able  to  evince,  that  it 
has  always  diffufed  profligacy  and  mifery  through  the 
walks  of  private  life;  and,  by  introducing  luxury,  li- 
centioufnefs,  indolence,  and  corruption,  has  at  onc« 
deftroyed  all  that  can  render  human  nature  dignified 
and  happy,  and  precipitated  the  decline  and  the  downfal 
of  empires  themfelves,  while  triumphing  in  fancied 
glory. 

It  has  been  obferved,  that  the  Bodies  Politic  and 
Natural  bear  to  each  other  a  remarkable  analogy. 
A  human  form  pampered,  bloated,  and  plethoric, 
will  often  have  the  appearance  of  ftrength,  as  well  as 
magnitude ;  though  no  ftate  of  it  can  be  lefs  adapted  to 
facilitate  the  animal  movements,  or  in  greater  danger 
of  a  hafty  diflblution.  The  body  politic  alfo  lofes  in 
mufcular  force,  as  much  as  it  acquires  of  unwieldly  fize, 
till,  by  the  gradual  decreafe  of  vigour,  and  augmenta- 
tion of  weight,  it  totters  on  its  bafelefs  fupports,  and, 
at  laft,  lies  level  in  the  duft  with  Babylon  and  antient 
Rome.  Luxury,  the  inevitable  confequence  of  what  is 
falfely  called  national  profperity,  becomes  the  grave 
of  empires,  and  of  all  that  could  adorn  them  ;  or  render 
their  longer  duration  a  rational  objeft  of  defire. 

There  is,  undoubtedly,  a  certain  degree  of  magni- 
tude, at  which,  when  a  State  is  arrived,  it  muft,  of 
neceffity,  undergo  the  alternative ;  of  being  purged  of 
its  peccant  humours,  cr falling  into  a  nervelefs  languor 

aud 


No.  127.  MORAL,     &c.  179 

and  confequent  decline.  Perhaps  our  own  country  has 
already  arrived  at  that  degree,  and  is  now,  under  the 
operation  of  Divine  Providence,  fuffering  the  amputa- 
tion of  its  morbid  excrefcences  for  the  falvation  of  its 
health  and  exigence.  It  may  lofe  fome  of  its  revenues; 
but  it  will  fave  and  meliorate  its  morals  and  its  liberty. 
Miniflers  may  be  fhaken  from  their  feats,  penfioners 
and  placemen  may  be  reduced  to  defpair,  funds  may 
be  annihilated,  and  eftates  brought  down  to  their 
natural  value;  but  freedom,  but  virtue,  but  induftry, 
but  the  Britifh  conftitution,  but  human  nature,  fhall 
furvive  the  wreck,  and  emerge,  like  filver  and  gold 
when  tried  by  the  fire,  with  new  value  and  additional 
luftre.  After  a  ftate  of  political  adverfity,  fomething 
may  take  place  in  the  fociety,  fimilar  to  the  expected 
renovation  of  all  things,  after  the  general  conflagration 
of  the  univerfe. 

Diftrefs  and  difficulty  are  known  to  operate  in  private 
life,  as  the  fpurs  of  diligence.  Powers,  which  would 
for  ever  have  lain  dormant  in  the  halcyon  days  of  eafe 
and  plenty,  have  been  called  forth  by  adverfity,  and  have 
advanced  their  pofleflbr  to  the  moft  enviable  heights  of 
virtue,  happineis,  and  glory.  Man  is  naturally  indo- 
lent, and,  when  undifturbed,  will  bafk  and  fleep  in  the 
funmine  till  the  fleep  of  death;  but,  when  roufed  by 
the  blaft  and  the  thunder,  he  rifes,  {trains  every  finevv, 
and  marches  on  to  enterprize.  Succefs  will  almoft  in- 
fallibly attend  great  exertions  uniformly  and  refolutely 
continued  ;  fo  that  what  began  in  mifery  ends  in 
triumph,  as  the  fun  which  rofe  in  a  mill  defcends 
with  ferenity,  and  paints  the  whole  horizon  with  gold 
and  purpled 

Public  induflry  may  be  excited  in  the  fame  manner, 
and  in  the  fame  degree,  by  public  misfortunes.  The 
nation  is  impoverifhed,  or  in  other  words,  its  fuperflui- 
ties  are  retrenched.  It  is  an  event  devoutly  to  be 
wimed.  Luxury,  with  ten  thoufand  evils  in  her  train, 
is  obliged  to  withdraw,  and  the  humble  virtues,  whom 
fne  had  driven,  by  her  infolenee,  into  exile,  cheerfully 
advance  from  their  concealment.  Induftry  and  frugality- 
take  the  lead ;  but  to  what  a  degree  of  vigour  muft 
every  mufcle  of  the  body  politic  be  braced,  when  every 
I  6  member 


i8o  ESSAY    S,  No.  127. 

member  is,  in  fome  meafure,  aftuated  by  induftry  and 
frugality.  No  man  ever  yet  exerted  himfelf  to  the  ut- 
moft  of  his  ftrength  ;  nor  is  it  on  record,  that  any  ftate 
was  ever  yet  fo  exhaufted,  but  that,  while  it  enjoyed 
liberty,  it  might  draw  new  refources  from  its  own  vitals. 
Though  the  tree  is  lopped,  yet,  fo  long  as  the  root  re- 
mains unhurt,  it  will  throw  out  a  greater  luxuriancy  of 
branches,  produce  fruit  of  better  flavour,  and  derive 
frefh  vigour  from  the  axe.  If  one  has  accidentally  dif- 
turbed  an  ant  hill,  or  broken  the  fabric  of  the  hive, 
though  the  little  animals  appeared  before  to  have  ex- 
erted their  utmoft  efforts,  yet  it  is  amazing,  with  what 
additional  diligence  they  apply  themfelves  to  repair  the 
depredation.  Not  a  moment  is  allowed  for  defpondency. 
The  earth  end  the  air  glow  with  motion,  and  the 
misfortune  feems  immediately  to  add  to  their  fpirits, 
and  ultimately  both  to  their  ftore  and  fecurity. 

The  beautiful  defcription  which  Virgil  has  given 
us  of  the  bufy  fcene  in  which  the  Tyrians  are  engaged  in 
building  Carthage,  reprefents,  in  a  moft  lively  manner, 
the.  alacrity  with  which  human  creatures  are  found  to 
exert  themfelves,  when  inftigated  by  the  ftimulus  of 
neceffity.  An  emulation  cf  labour  feizes  every  bofom. 
No  murmuring,  no  complainings  in  the  ftreet,  but 
every  one  feels  himfelf  happy,  in  proportion  as  he  renders 
himielf  ufeful.  Men's  abilities  rile  with  the  occafion  j 
and  political  evil,  like  other  evil,  under  the  conduct  of 
a  merciful  deity,  has  produced  extenfive  good,  by 
calling  forth  fome  of  the  ncbleft  exertions,  and  moflr 
perfed  characters  which  have  adorned  the  records  cf 
human  nature. 

There  is  one  beneficial  effect  of  national  adverfity,  of 
greater  importance  than  any  which  J  have  enumerated. 
It  fubdues  the  haughty  foul  elevated  with  riches,  and 
inebriated  with  excefs,  and  turns  the  attention  to  the 
King  of  kings,  the  Lord  of  lords,  the  only  Ruler  of 
princes,  who,  from  His  throne,  beholds  all  nations,  and 
bids  the  fceptre  to  depart  from  the  wicked  to  the 
righteous.  It  teaches  us  to  rely  lefs  upon  our  German, 
auxiliaries,  our  mufquets,  our  mortars,  our  cannon,  our 
copper-bottomed  men  of  war,  our  generals,  and  our 
admirals,  than  on  the  Lord  of  Hofts. 

1  Whea 


No.  128.      .      MO  R  A  L,    &c.  ts» 

When  he  fights  for  us  we  fhall  conquer.  Without 
him,  we  fhall  in  vain  put  our  truft  in  a  Burgoyne,  a 
Keppel,  or  a  Cornwallis ;  but  "  the  ball  of  empire 
"  fhall  continue  to  roll  on  weftward  as  it  has  ever  yet 
"  done,  till  it  flops  in  America,  a  world  unknown  to 
"  the  antients,  and  which  may  fave  the  tears  of  fome 
"  future  Alexander." 

If  Providence  fhall  have  decreed  the  downfal  of 
Britifh  fupremacy,  happy  fhould  I  be  to  have  fuggefled 
one  idea  which  may  ftimulate  the  exertions  of  my 
countrymen,  once  more  to  raife  the  noble  column  on 
the  bafis  of  liberty  and  virtue  ;  or  which  may  confole 
them  on  its  ruins,  and  teach  them,  while  they  fit  by 
the  waters  of  bitternefs,  and  hang  their  harps  on  the 
willow,  to  think  of  Him  who  can  make  rivers  of  com- 
fort to  flow  in  the  dreary  defert. 


No.  CXXVIJI.  ON  SOME  OF  THE  FALSE  PRE- 
TENSIONS AND  IMPOSITIONS  OF  THE  ART- 
FUL AND  AVARICIOUS. 


NOTWITHSTANDING  the  pretenfions  of 
religion,  philofophy,  and  education,  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  appears  to  be  retrained  in  their  aftual 
conduct  by  few  efficient  principles,  but  thofe  which  are 
dictated  by  a  regard  to  intereft.  To  the  love  of  gain, 
and  the  weaknefs  or  want  of  principles,  it  mufl  be 
imputed,  that  every  occupation  and  department  of  life 
abounds  wilh  impofture.  A  mafque  is  eafily  put  on. 
Appearances  are,  indeed,  far  more  eafily  affumed  than 
realities ;  and  they  are  often  more  fu-ccefsful  and  more 
plaufible  ;  for  the  edifice  of  him,  who  employs  all  his 
time  and  attention  in  gilding,  painting,  and  carving  the 
front,  will  much  iboner  attraft  the  notice  and  applaufe 
of  the  paffenger,  than  that  of  him  who  has  been  feli- 
citous only  in  fecuring  the  ftrength  of  the  beam,  and 
the  mafTy  firmnefs  of  a  deep  foundation. 

So 


i8z  ESSAYS,  No.  128. 

So  powerful  are  the  inftigations  of  avarice,  and  fo 
eafy  is  it  to  deceive  the  young,  the  fimple,  the  innocent, 
and  unfufpefting,  that  the  intercourfe  among  mankind 
would  have  been  one  uniform  commerce  of  deceit,  if  it 
had  not  fortunately  happened,  that  the  fame  want  of 
principle  and  fuperfluity  of  felfifhnefs,  which  led  the 
deceivers  to  impofe  upon  mankind,  induced  them  alfo 
to  betray  the  arts  of  each  other.  Rival  cheats,  in  the 
fury  of  jealous  competition,  have  difcovered  the  fecrets 
of  the  juggling  art,  and  opened  the  eyes  of  the  deluded 
obfervers. 

But,  as  there  is  always  a  rifing  generation  unac- 
quainted with  the  fnares  of  the  deceitful,  nets  and  traps 
are  ftill  laid  wherever  there  is  a  probability  of  prey. 
It  "becomes  thofe  then,  who  have  feen  many  of  the  arts 
of  life,  to  let  others  profit  by  their  experience,  and  pre- 
vent the  generous  game  from  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  mercenary  poacher. 

It  may  be  prefcribed  as  a  rule  which  will  not  often 
foil  in  the  application,  that  where  extraordinary  pre- 
tcnfions  are  made,  either  in  the  manual  arts,  the  trades, 
or  the  profeffions,  there  is  juft  ground  for  caution  and 
fufpicion.  Solid  merit,  and  real  excellence  of  every 
kind,  ufually  confide  in  their  own  power  of  recommend- 
ing themfelves,  while  ignorance,  and  fuperficial  flcill, 
naturally  endeavour  to  enfnare  by  cunning,  what  they 
cannot  earn  by  defert.  There  is  a  delicacy  and  fpirit 
attendant  on  real  worth  and  ingenuity,  which  had  ra- 
ther be  without  fuccefs,  than  attain  it  by  artifice  and 
arrogant  pretenfion. 

The  prudent  and  experienced  are  generally  on  their 
guard  againft  thofe  numerous  adventurers,  who  rely 
for  fuccefs  on  advertifements  in  the  public  papers.  Jf 
there  is  any  difference  between  the  mercer,  haberdafher, 
or  wine-merchant,  who  advertifes  his  goods,  and  him 
who  does  not,  it  is,  that  the  ad.vertifer  fells,  at  a  dearer 
price,  a  worfe  commodity.  His  (hop  is  a  kind  of  trap, 
the  bait  is  pretended  cheapnefs ;  and  many  a  young  bird 
is  caught  with  the  chaff  of  a  bargain.  A  wife  man  will 
take  care  not  to  lay  out  his  money  when  things  are  to 
be  fold  at  prime  coft,  and  under  prir^e  reft,  and  twenty 


No.  128.  MORAL,    Sec.  183 

fer  cent,  cheaper  than  the  reft  of  the  trade.  Beware 
of  thofe  generous  fpirics,  who  fell  their  property,  or 
their  induftry,  pro  publico  bono  ;  beware,  as  you  value 
your  health  and  your  life,  of  thofe  who  will  cure  you 
of  all  difeafes  with  a  five  fhilling  pill  box ;  beware  of 
being  poifoned  by  the  vintner,  who  promifes  you  neat 
as  imported  ;  whieh  words  being  interpreted,  fignify 
a  liquor  in  which  not  a  drop  of  grape  juice,  or  foreign 
fpirits,  is  to  be  found.  Beware  of  your  purfe  and  your 
credulity,  when  you  are  offered  to  be  taught  more 
of  the  languages  and  fciences  by  a  new  method,  in  fix 
months,  fix  weeks,  or  fix  hours,  than  thofe  who  prefide 
over  fchools  can  teach  in  fix  or  fixteen  years.  Beware 
of  a  thoufand  artful  tricks  which  are  difplayed  in  the 
newfpapers,  and  which  the  deceitful  heart  of  man 
contrives,  as  the  fpider  weaves  his  web,  to  catch  thofe 
who  are  unfufpe&ing,  becaufe  they  are  innocent.  The 
true  meaning  of  all  pompous  pretences,  and  inviting 
advertifements  is,  that  their  authors  being  diitreffed, 
and,  probably,  deflitute  both  of  character,  friends,  and 
merit,  find  an  eafy  mode  of  fupplying  the  defedl,  by 
digging  pitfalls  for  the  unwary,  with  whom  the  world 
muft  always  abound,  at  the  expence  of  a  few  Ihiliings  for 
every  fnare.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  credulity  of  mankind, 
that  many  a  quack  and  pretender  has  poflefled  an  eflate 
in  the  corner  of  a  newfpaper,  equal  to  large  freeholds 
of  dirty  acres. 

There  are  few  departments  in  which  more  inftances  of 
deception  occur,  than  in  the  lower  walks  of  literature.  It 
happens,  that  they  who  are  to  be  mechanically  inftrumen- 
tal  in  difleminating  fcience  and  philofophy,  and  all  the 
productions  of  human  wit,  conftitute  a  very  numerous 
body,  confifting  of  many  members  in  extreme  indigence, 
from  the  author,  by  trade,  down  to  the  bookbinder 
and  the  devil.  Employment  muft  be  provided  for  them 
all,  or  both  they  and  their  families  muft  want  bread. 
The  prefs  muft,  therefore,  be  conftantly  in  motion ; 
but  what  is  to  fupply  it?  A  very  few  preffes  would  be 
fufficient  to  prepare  for  the  public  view  all  productions 
really  new  and  necellary.  Compilations  are  formed 
under  a  thoufand  Ihapes  and  difguifes;  and  men  of 

ftraw, 


184  ESSAYS,  No.  12?. 

ftraw,  adorned  with  Doflors  Degrees,  and  the  dignity 
of  Fellows  of  the  Royal  Society,  are  created  by  the 
jfiat  of  the  adventurous  publisher,  and  ftand  forth  as  the 
renowned  authors,  in  all  the  dignity  of  a  title  page. 
From  thefe  powerful  men  in  buckram  iffue  grand  and 
Imperial  Bibles,  new  Syftems  of  Geography,  Hirtories 
of  England,  and  Collections  of  Voyages,  with  a  per- 
miffion  to  read  the  firft  number,  and  return  it  if  not 
approved,  and  a  promifibry  note,  generoufly  engaging 
that  all  numbers,  exceeding  a  certain  amount,  mail  be 
given  gratis.  But  if  any  deceit  can  be  excufed,  per- 
haps it  is  fuch  an  one  as  this,  which  feeds  the  hungry, 
clothes  the  nakeJ,  and  communicates  much  entertain- 
ing and  ufeful  knowledge  among  the  poor. 

There  are  thole  who  call  far  lefs  honelt  arts  than  thefe, 
innocent  frauds  ;  but  it  is  well  remarked  by  a  very  found 
moralift,  that  no  frauds  are  innocent ;  becaufe  they 
deftroy  the  confidence  of  fociety,  on  which  our  happi- 
nefs  and  convenience  in  every  part  of  our  intercourfe  with 
each  other,  greatly  depend.  I  will  venture  to  add,  that 
he  who  will  cheat  without  remorfe  in  one  thing,  will 
cheat  in  another  whenever  he  can  do  it  with  equal  fe- 
crecy  and  impunity.  Though  tricks  in  trade,  or  the 
deceitful  myfteries  of  a  profeffion,  may  enable  a  man  to 
raife  a  capital  houfe  of  bufinefs,  to  be  in  a  great  way, 
or  to  become  a  good  man,  as  the  rh rales  are  in  the 
city,  yet  tlu-y  can  never  be  compatible  with  common, 
honefty,  nor  render  him  more  truly  refpeftable,  than 
the  humbler  adventurer  who  adually  invades  your 
purfe,  or  rifles  your  pocket. 


No.  CXXIX. 


No.  129.  MORAL,     &c.  18$ 


No.    CXXIX.       ON  THE    PREVAILING   TASTE 
IN    POETRY. 


SWEET  poefy  !  thou  lovelieft  objeft  of  intelleftual 
purfuit.  But    I    am    running    into    raptures, 

when  I  intended  only  a  cool  di/Tertation.  It  is,  indeed, 
difficult  not  to  be  tranfported  beyond  the  limits  of 
criticifm,  in  contemplating  the  beauties  which  the 
magic  hand  of  the  poet  raifes  around,  with  all  the- 
creative  power  of  a  real  enchantment.  From  the  cares 
of  gain,  the  toils  of  ambition,  the  noife,  the  hurry,  the 
vexation  of  a  difordered  world,  we  rife  on  the  wings 
of  poefy  to  ethereal  regions,  where  all  is  fublime  and 
tranquil ;  or  are  wafted  to  vifionary  fcenes,  in  which 
are  difplayed  all  the  delicious  fweets  of  a  paradife  and 
an  elyfium.  Away,  ye  fordid  objefls  ;  ye  pollutions 
and  incumbrances  of  the  pure  fpirit  !  Man  is  not  tied 
down  to  you.  Providence,  in  companion  to  wretched 
mortals,  has  given  them  a  power  of  forfaking  this  low 
orb,  and  foaring  awhile,  all  mind,  all  fpirit,  all  ex- 
tacy,  in  the  car  of  the  fwan,  on  the  wings  of  the 
eagle.- 

Reafon  alone,  with  all  her  pretenfions,  is  feldomt 
fufficient  to  footh  our  cares,  and  compofe  our  paf- 
fions  ;  but  melody  and  fancy  united  with  her,  are  capa- 
ble of  pouring  balm  into  the  wounded  heart.  In  all 
nations,  and  in  all  ranks  of  the  people,  fope  fpecies  of 
poetry  has  been  cultivated  ;  and  a  talte  for  it  was 
undoubtedly  implanted  in  our  nature,  that  the  fore 
evils  of  reality  might  often  be  alleviated  by  the  fweets 
of  fiction.  When  Pandora's  box  was  opened  on  man- 
kind, and  mifery  diffufed  on  every  fide,  fancy,  as  well 
as  hope,  kindly  lingered  for  our  confolation. 

While  we  are  tracing  the  love  of  fong  from  the 
favoured  ifles  of  the  Southern  Ocean  to  the  regions  of 
Iceland,  we  are  naturally  tempted  to  dwell,  with  par- 
ticular attention,  on  the  poetical  talte  of  our  own 
country,  and  our  own  times. 

I  think; 


186  ESSAYS,  No.  129. 

I  think  it  is  not  difficult  to  perceive,  that  the  ad- 
mirers of  Englifh  poetry  are  divided  into  two  parties. 
The  obje&s  of  their  love  are,  perhaps,  of  equal  beauty, 
though  they  greatly  differ  in  their  air,  their  drefs,  the 
turn  of  their  features,  and  their  complexion.  On  one 
fide  are  the  lovers  and  imitators  of  Spenfer  and 
Milton  ;  and  on  the  other,  thofe  of  Dryden,  Boileau, 
and  Pope. 

Now  it  happens,  unfortunately,  that  thofe  who  are 
in  love  with  one  of  thefe  forms  are,  fometimes,  fo  blind 
to  the  charms  of  the  other,  as  to  difpute  their  exiftence. 
The  author  of  the  efiay  on  Pope,  who  is  himfelf  a 
very  agreeable  poet,  and  of  what  I  call  the  old  fchool 
of  Englifh  poetry,  feems  to  deny  the  juftice  of  Mr. 
Pope's  claim  to  the  title  of  a  true  poet,  and  to  appro- 
priate to  him  the  fubordinate  character  of  a  fatirical 
verfifier.  On  the  other  hand,  the  authors  of  the  Tra- 
veller, and  of  the  Lives  of  the  Englifh  Poets,  hefitate 
not  to  ftrip  the  laurels  from  the  brow  of  the  Lyric 
Gray. 

Goldfmith,  in  his  Life  of  Parnell,  has  invidioufly 
compared  the  Night  Piece  on  Death  to  Gray's  Elegy  ; 
and  in  a  manner,  which  betrays  a  little  jealoufy  of  a 
living  poet's  fame,  given  the  preference  to  Parnell. 
There  is  alfo  a  little  cenfure  thrown  on  the  elegy,  in 
a  collection  which  Goldfmith  publifhed  under  the  title 
of  the  Beauties  of  Englim  Poetry.  1  remember  to  have 
heard  Goldfmith  converfe,  when  I  was  very  young,  on 
feveral  fubjecls  of  literature,  and  make  fome  oblique 
and  fevere  reflections  on  the  fafhionablc  poetry.  I  be- 
came a  convert  to  his  opinion,  becaufe  I  revered  his 
authority.  I  took  up  the  odes  of  Gray  with  unfavour- 
able prepoffeflions,  and  in  writing  my  remarks  on  them, 
joined  in  the  cenfure.  I  have  fince  read  them  with  great 
delight,  and  on  comparing  their  ftyle,  and  even  their 
obfcurity,  with  many  of  the  fineft  pieces  of  Lyric  com- 
pofition  in  all  antiquity,  I  find  a  very  great  refemblance. 
I  am  not  afliamed  to  retracl  my  former  opinion,  and  to 
pay  the  tribute  of  applaufe  to  thofe  elegant  friends,  Gray 
and  Mafon.  At  the  fame  time,  while  it  is  eafy  to 
difcern  that  they  differ  greatly  from  the  fchool  of 
Dryden  and  Pope,  it  is  no  derogation  from  their  merit 

to 


No.  129.  MORAL,     &c.  187 

to  affert,  that  they  are  the  genuine  difciples  of  Spenfer 
and  Milton.  Such  alfo  are  the  very  elegant  and 
learned  brothers,  one  of  whom  prendes,  with  fo  much 
honour,  over  the  fchool  at  Winchefter,  and  the  other 
has  written  an  elegant  and  elaborate  hiftory  of  that 
Englifh  poetry  in  which  himfelf  excels. 

Goldfmith's  Traveller  is  certainly  a  beautiful  poem, 
and  fo  are  Dr.  Johnfon's  Imitations  of  Juvenal;  but 
they,  and  a  thoufand  others  of  the  fame  fpeeies,  are  of 
a  different  (lamp  from  the  Englifh  antique.  They  are 
excellent  productions  in  one  kind,  but  not  lefs  fo  are 
thofe  of  Gray  and  Mafon  in  another.  Let  both  fchools 
flourifh  and  receive  their  due  applaufe,  nor  let  thofe  who 
have  only  acquired  a  tafte  for  one,  treat  the  other  with 
contempt.  Spenfer  and  Milton  drew  not  from  a  Go- 
thic model,  but  from  the  polifhed  Italians,  who,  though 
they  had  loft  fome  of  the  purity  and  fimplicity  of 
ancient  Rome,  yet  retained  much  of  her  elegance. 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  his  poetical  ideas  are  con- 
fined, who  has  not  obferved  with  delight,  the  fweet 
lines,  the  fweet  language,  the  fweet  fancy  of  Spenfer; 
and  who  has  not  been  alfo  charmed  with  the  fmaller 
pieces  of  Milton.  All  tafles,  however  various,  allow 
Shakefpeare's  claim  to  poetry  ;  but  it  cannot  be  denied, 
tkat  fome  of  his  beft  defcriptions,  and  efpecially  thofe 
delicious  morfels  which  occur  in  the  form  of  fongs  or 
fonnets,  partake  much  more  of  the  antient  than  of  the 
modern  fchool,  either  Englifh  or  French  ;  for  we  may 
call  it  Englifh,  if  we  attribute  its  origin  to  Pope,  and 
French,  if  to  Boileau. 

There  feems  to  be  an  unreafonable  prejudice  enter- 
tained againft  blank  verfe,  by  thofe  who  wifli  to  dictate 
on  the  fubjedls  of  criticifm.  It  is  fufficient,  in  the  idea  of 
many,  to  condemn  a  poem,  that  it  is  written  in  blank 
verfe.  Though  one  may  prefer  rhyme  upon  the  whole  ; 
yet,  as  blank  verfe  is  fufceptible  of  great  variety  of 
mufic,  and  of  every  ornament  of  di&ion,  it  is  furely 
abfurd  to  involve  it  in  any  general  cenfure.  It  may, 
however,  be  attributed  to  this  idle  prepofleffion,  that 
Mr.  Mafon's  Englifh  Garden  feems  to  be  neglefted. 
There  is,  indeed,  a  general  prejudice  againft  all  works 
which  appear  to  come  from  that  fchool,  and  the  very 

fevere 


180  ESSAYS,  No.  129. 

fevere  criticifms  of  the  late  biographical  preface  to  the 
works  of  Gray,  will,  perhaps,  contribute  to  explode 
a  moft  delightful  ftyle  of  pure  poetry ;  of  poetry,  con- 
verfant  folely  in  the  regions  of  fancy,  and  clothed  in 
a  luminous  and  mufical  diftion  appropriated  to  itfelf, 
and  mod  remote  from  all  that  is  profaic.  Very  high 
commendations  are  due  to  Mr.  Anftey,  to  the  author  of 
a  poetical  epiftle  to  Sir  William  Chambers,  to  Mr. 
Hayley,  and  to  feveral  others  who  are  well  known  to 
fame  for  their  fuccefsful  labours  in  the  fchool  of  Pope  ; 
but,  at  leait,  an  equal  mare  of  praife  ought  to  be  paid 
to  the  fchoiars  of  Milton  and  Spenfer ;  — Such  as  Mr. 
Mafon,  and  the  two  poetical  brothers.  With  refpeft 
to  Gray,  he  has  received  his  tribute  of  applaufe  from 
a  difcerning  public,  and  has  certainly  deferved  it. 
The  heart  and  the  imagination  have  given  it  him  ;  and 
they  who  can  fee  no  beauty  in  his  verfe,  may  probably 
fucceed  in  writing  a  lampoon  ;  but  would  probably  fall 
far  mort  of  the  poet  whom  they  cenfure,  in  lyric  and 
elegiac  poetry. 

None  can  entertain  a  higher  veneration  for  our  late 
Prefatory  Biographer  of  the  poets  than  myfelf,  and  I 
was  therefore  greatly  concerned  to  fee  him  expofed 
to  cenfure  by  an  nncandid,  not  to  fay  injudicious,  piece 
of  cricicifm  on  the  poems  of  Gray.  He  indeed  allows 
the  merit  of  the  elegy,  but  examines  and  cenfures 
the  odes  with  every  appearance  of  wanton  malignity. 
Who  but  muft  lament  that  the  folid  critic  and  moralift 
fhould  have  been  fo  much  under  the  influence  of  envy 
and  jealoufy,  as  to  treat  the  fame  of  his  cotemporary, 
the  iliuftrious  Gray,  with  fingular  harfhnefs,  in  a  work 
which  contains  very  candid  accounts  of  a  Sprat  and  a 
Yalden,  a  Duke  and  a  Broome,  and  of  others,  with 
whom,  if  Gray  is  compared,  he  will  appear,  as  Shakef- 
peare  fays,  like  Hyperion  to  a  Satyr. 

The  late  collection  of  poets  has  reitored  to  temporary 
life  many  a  fickly  and  dying  poet,  who  was  haftening  to 
his  proper  place,  the  tomb  of  oblivion.  Why  was  any 
more  paper  wafted  on  Dorfet,  Halifax,  Stepney,  Walfli, 
and  Blackmore  ?  How  can  a  work  pretend  to  the  coin- 
prehenfive  title  of  the  Body  of  Englifh  Poetry,  in  which 
the  works  of  Spenfer  and  Shakefpeare  are  omitted  to 

make 


No.  130.  MORAL,     &c.  189 

make  room  for  fuch  writers  as  King  or  Ambrofe  Philips  ? 
The  writer  of  the  prefaces  is,  indeed,  fufficiently  will- 
ing to  throw  the  blame  from  himfelf  on  the  com- 
pilers, whom  he  was  not  permitted,  or  did  not  endea- 
vour to  controul.  A  feledlion,  formed  under  the  di- 
reclion  of  true  taite,  would  have  anfwered  the  two  great 
ends  of  the  publication  which  it  has  now  fruftrated  ;  it 
would  have  amply  paid  the  bookfellers,  and  reflected  ho- 
nour on  Engliih  literature.  Then  mould  we  have  feen, 
in  the  place  of  Rofcommon  and  Rochefter,  Pomfret  and 
Fenton,  the  works  of  Goldfmith,  of  Glover,  of  Mafon, 
of  Aikin,  of  Carter,  of  Beattie,  of  the  Wartons,  of  An- 
ftey,  and  of  many  others,  who  would  fhine  among  the 
Hughes's,  Pitts,  and  Savages,  like  the  moon  among  the 
diminifhed  conftellations. 

Upon  the  many  and  excellent  living  writers  of  poetry 
\ve  may  obferve,  that  though  the  diftrefsful  times  of  war 
and  political  animofity  are  unfavourable  to  the  gentle 
arts  of  verfe;  yet  the  adive  and  poliflied  genius  of  this 
nation  feems  capable  of  furmounting  all  obftacles  in  let- 
ters, as  its  manly  fpirit  has  ultimately  borne  all  before 
it  in  the  unhappy  conterts  of  war. 


NO.  CXXX.  ON  THE  PECULIAR  DANGER  OF 
FALLING  INTO  INDOLENCE  IN  A  LITERARY 
AND  RETIRED  LIFE. 

IT  is  certain,  that  as  our  anceflcrs  were  induced  to 
found  colleges  by  religious  motives,  fo  they  chiefly 
intended  them  to  anfwer  the  purpofes  of  religion. 
Thofe  pious  benefactors  to  mankind  did  not  mean  to 
eftabliflj  feminaries  to  prepare  men  for  the  world,  but  to 
teach  them  to  defpife  it.  But  more  enlightened  periods 
than  thofe  in  which  thefe  worthies  lived,  have  difco- 
vered,  that  man  beft  obeys  his  Maker  when  he  takes  an 
adive  part  in  the  duties  of  fociety. 

A  long  refidence  in  a  college  is,  perhaps,  fcarcely 
lefs  unfavourable  to  devotion  than  to  focial  activity. 
For  devotion  depends  chiefly  on  lively  affections,  exer- 
cifed  and  agitated  by  the  viciffitudes  of  hope  and  fear 


190  ESSAYS,  No.  130. 

in  the  various  tranfa&ions  and  events  of  human  inter- 
courfe.  He,  who  is  almoft  placed  beyond  the  reach  of 
fortune  in  the  fhelter  of  a  cloyfter,  may,  indeed,  be  led 
by  the  ftatutes  of  the  Inftitution  to  attend  his  chapel, 
and  doze  over  his  cufhion,  but  he  will  not  feel,  in 
any  peculiar  manner,  the  impulfe  of  devotional  fervour. 
The  man  who  is  engaged  in  the  bufy  and  honourable 
duties  of  aftive  life,  flies  from  the  world  to  the  altar 
for  comfort  and  refreshment ;  but  the  cloiftered  reclufe, 
pants,  while  he  is  kneeling  in  all  the  formalities  of 
religion,  for  the  pleafures  and  employments  of  that 
world  from  which  he  is  fecluded.  During  feveral  cen- 
turies, a  great  part  of  mankind  was  confined  in  monaf- 
teries,  folely  for  the  advancement  of  religion  and  learn- 
ing ;  yet  never  was  the  earth  more  benighted  than  in 
thofe  periods,  by  bigotry  and  ignorance.  Nor  will  any 
one  affert,  that  in  fubfequent  times,  and  in  modern 
univerfities,  the  improvements  in  knowledge  and  re- 
ligion have  been,  in  any  degree,  proportioned  to  the 
numbers  of  thofe  who  have  been  feparated  from  the 
world  to  facilitate  their  cultivation.  The  truth  feems 
to  be,  that  when  the  common  incentives  to  induftry  are 
removed,  and  all  the  natural  wants  fupplied  without 
the  neceffity  of  exertion,  man  degenerates,  as  the  pure 
waters  of  the  river  ftagnate  and  become  putrid  in  the 
pool.  At  laft,  the  boalHng  poffeflbr  of  reafon  contents 
himfelf  with  dreaming  "  the  blank  of  life  along,"  with 
no  other  proofs  of  exiltence  than  the  wants  of  the  animal 
nature.  Take  away  love,  ambition,  the  changes  and 
chances  of  this  mortal  life,  and  man  will  be  contented 
to  eat,  drink,  fleep,  and  die. 

Nor  in  colleges  alone,  though  they  may  be  confidered 
as  the  temples  of  indolence,  but  in  common  life  alfo, 
the  human  mind  becomes  torpid,  as  the  neceffity  of 
exertion  is  diminifhed.  He  who,  confiding  in  the  pof- 
feflion  of  a  fortune  for  his  happinefs,  avoids  the  avoca- 
t'ons  of  a  profeflion,  and  what  he  calls  the  fatiguing  parts 
of  ftudy,  will  foon  lofe  thofe  powers  of  mental  activity 
which  he  has  not  refolution  to  employ.  If  he  does  not 
gradually  degenerate  to  a  level  with  the  irrational 
creation,  he  will  not  long  be  diftant  from  the  vegetable. 
When  the  habits  are  irretrievably  confirmed,  it  might 

.     perhaps 


No.  130.  MORA  L,     &c.  ion 

perhaps  be  happy,  if  his  nature  would  permit  him  to 
become  at  lalt  impaflive  and  quiefcent ;  but  as  fponta- 
neous  fermentation  takes  place  in  mattes  of  putrefa&ion, 
fo,  in  the  mind  which  has  ceafed  to  be  exercifed  by  its 
own  effbr  s,  emotions  and  habits  will  voluntarily  arife 
both  offenfive  and  dangerous.  Pride  and  envy,  con- 
ceit and  obflinacy,  felfiihnefs  and  fenfuality,  are  among 
the  ugly  daughters  of  indolence. 

It  may  appear  paradoxical,  but  it  is  certainly  an  opi- 
nion authori/.ed   by  experience,   that  an  aftive  life  is 
the  molt  friendly  to  contemplation.     The  fire  of  the 
mind,  like  culinary  fire,  has   burned  with  a  clear  and 
conftant  flame,  when  opened  and  ventilated   by  perpe- 
tual motion,  as  it  has  been  fmothered  and  extinguished 
in  fmoke,  when  fuffered  to  remain  long  without  dillurb- 
ance.     The  bell,    and  many  of  the    moll  voluminous 
writers,  acled  ftill  more  than  they  wrote.     What  could 
be  more  unlike  the  life  of  the  cloiller  than  the  lives 
of  Xenophon,  Julius  Csefar,  Erafmus,  and  a  thoufand 
others,  whofe  days  were  fo  engaged  in  negotiation,  in 
fenates,  in   battles,  in  travelling,  that  it  is  not  eafy  to 
conceive  how  they  could  find  time  even  to  write  fo  great 
a  quantity  as  they  certainly  compofed  ?  But  fuch  are 
the  eftedls  of  affiduity,  of  an  uninterrupted  accumula- 
tion of  efforts,   that  he  who  has  been  excited  to  reillefs 
activity  by  the  fpurs  of  honour,  interefl,  and  a  gene- 
rofity  of  nature,  has  frequently  accompliflied  more  by 
himfelf,  than  a  thoufand  of  his  fellow-creatures  employ- 
ed in  the  fame  fphere,  and  furnimed,  by  nature,  with 
equal  abilities  for  improvement.     A  hackney  writer  of 
catch-penny  compilations,  the  printer  of  a  newfpaper, 
the  maker  of  a  magazine,  though  engaged  in  a  multi- 
plicity of  daily  and  various  avocations,  will  perform, 
in  a  few   months,  a  portion  of  literary  labour,  which 
fhall  infinitely  exceed  that  of  whole  colleges,  of  thofe 
who  {lumber,    or  waile   their  acHvity  on  hounds  and 
hories  on  the  borders  of  the  muddy  Cam,  and  the  flow- 
ly  winding  Charwell. 

But  it  avails  little  to  point  out  the  diforders  of  lite- 
rary indolence,  without  endeavouring  to  fuggeft  a  re- 
medy. It  appears  then  to  me,  that  thofe  whom  Pro- 
vidence has  blefled  with  leifure,  and  the  opportunity 

of 


ipz  ESSAYS,  No.  130. 

of  fpending  it  in  the  purfuits  of  learning,  and  the 
liberal  pleafures  of  retirement,  too  often  languilh  in 
their  purfuits,  from  negledling  to  render  them  the 
fubjefts  of  debate  and  converfation.  It  is  the  warmth  of 
difcuffion  in  free  and  focial  meetings  which  invigo- 
rates folitary  ftudy,  and  fends  the  fcholar  back  to 
his  books  with  frefh  alacrity.  The  hope  of  making  a 
figure  in  a  fubfequent  meeting,  the  fear  of  a  fhame- 
ful  expofure,  and  of  appearing  inferior  to  thofe 
who  are,  in  a  natural  and  civil  view,  our  equals, 
will  ftimulate  all  our  powers,  and  engage  all  our  atten- 
tion, while  we  fit  in  thofe  very  libraries,  where  we  once 
nodded  and  {lumbered  over  the  page  even  of  a  Homer. 
Meetings  mould  be  eitablifhed  in  all  literary  focieties 
for  the  communication  of  remarks,  and  the  rehearfal 
of  compofitions.  But  the  ftrifteft  rules  mould  be  pre- 
fcribed  and  obferved  for  the  prefervation  of  decorum  ; 
or  elfe  a  majority  of  Mafters  of  Arts  would  vote  away 
the  books,  the  pens  and  the  ink,  and  all  the  moral, 
philofophical,  and  tafteful  difcourfes,  in  order  to  in- 
troduce pipes  and  tobacco,  Joe  Miller,  and  the  punch 
bowl. 

It  is  right  alfo,  that  contemplative  men,  however  far 
removed  from  the  neceffity  of  employment  by  the 
liberality  of  fortune,  mould  communicate  with  man- 
kind, not  only  in  pleafures  and  amufements,  but  in  real 
duties  and  active  virtues,  either  conjugal,  paternal, 
profeflional,  official,  or  charitable.  Something  mould 
be  engaged  in,  with  fuch  obligations  to  performance, 
that  an  inclination  to  negleft  mould  be  over-ruled  by 
legal  compuliion,  or  the  fear  of  certain  lofs  and  fhame. 
The  beft  method  of  avoiding  the  wretched  ftate  of  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  is,  to  involve  one's  felf  in  fuch 
circumftances  as  mall  force  one  to  do  fomething.  The 
natural  indolence  of  the  human  heart  is  found  to  efcape 
every  reflraint  but  the  iron  arm  of  neceffity.  Such  is 
our  prefent  condition,  that  we  muft  be  often  chained 
down  to  our  real  happinefs  and  our  beft  enjoyments. 

With  refpedt  to  the  prevention  of  indolence  in  an 
academical  life,  it  would  certainly  be  a  happy  circum- 
ftance,  if  none  were  allowed  to  refide  in  an  univerfity 
above  feven  years,  who  were  not  actually  engaged  in  the 

compofitiott 


O   R   A  L, 


compofition  of  a  learned  work,  or  in  fuperintending  the 
education  of  youth  as  Tutors,  Profeflbrs,  and  Heads 
of"  Colleges.  A  Senior  Fellow,  without  thefe  employ- 
ments, is  one  of  the  unhappieli  and  leaft  ufeful  members 
cf  the  community. 


NO.  CXXXI.       ON       THE      MANNERS      OF      A 
METROPOLIS, 


WHATEVER  may  be  the  political  advantages 
of  a  very  populous  capital,  and  I  believe  they 
are  of  a  very  difputable  nature,  the  moral  and  phyfical 
evils  of  it  are  evidently  numerous,  and  deftruclive  of  the 
human  race.  This  obfervation  is,  indeed,  true  of  all 
cities,  in  which  too  great  a  proportion  of  the  people  is 
aflembled  ;  but  I  fhall  confine  my  prefent  obfervations 
to  the  capital  of  the  Britiih  empire. 

The  junction  of  Weitminfler  with  London,  or  of  the 
Court  with  the  City,  is  very  juftiy  fuppofed  to  have  a 
pernicious  influence  on  both;  on  thofe  who  are  engaged 
in  the  employments  of  commerce,  and  on  thofe  who  are 
invited,  from  their  paternal  manfions,  by  the  court  and 
the  fenatc-houfe.  The  Courtier  communicates  to  the 
Citizen  a  love  cf  pleafure,  of  diflipation,  of  vanity;  and 
the  Citizen  to  the  Courtier,  an  idolatrous  veneratioa 
of  opulence.  The  Courtier  introduces  the  viciffitude* 
of  taile  and  falhion  ;  the  Citizen  imitates  them,  and 
furnimes,  in  'profufion,  the  means  of  their  difplay  and 
gratification.  Thus  are  luxury,  and  all  its  confequent 
vices  and  miTeries,  advanced  to  as  high  a  degree  as  they 
can  rc-ach,  by  the  union  of  ingenuity  to  invent  modes 
cf  indulgence,  with  wealth  toYupply  the  materials. 

Lovers  of  pleafure  in  excefs,  are  always  lovers  of 
themfelves  in  the  fame  degree;  and  their  love,  with 
.ill  the  characteriftical  blindnefs  of  the  paflion,  .commonly 
injures  its  objecl..  We  mail  therefore  find  felfimnefs 
prevailing  in  the  metropolis,  and  producing  all  its 
natural  effects  of  avarice,  private  gratifications,  mean- 
nefs,  fervility,  and  inhofpitality.  True  patriotifm  and 

VOL.  II.  K  public 


194  ESSAYS,  No.  131. 

public  fpirit,  though  the  very  want  of  them  will  often 
caufe  the  greatell  pretenfions  to  them,  will  feldom  be 
found  in  the  more  numerous  clafles  who  inhabit  the 
capital.  Where  money  and  pleafure  are  the  fole  objects 
of  ardent  purfuit,  public  virtue,  and  indeed  all  virtue, 
will  be  expofed  to  fale,  whenever  a  purchafer  can  be 
found  to  pay  the  price.  "  Money,  O  ye  Citizens  !" 
fays  Horace,  in  a  ftyle  of  fatirical  irony,  '«  is  firft  to 
"  be  fought ;  and  it  is  time  enough  to  think  of  virtue, 
*'  when  you  have  fecured  a  fortune." 

The  inhabitants  of  a  great  city  will  often  be  inho- 
fpitable  and  unneighbourly.  Their  attention  is  fixed 
on  advancing  and  gratifying  themfelves,  and  they  con- 
iider  their  neighbours  as  rivals,  or  at  lealt  as  not  worth 
cultivating,  fince  they  can  always  buy  amufement  ac 
the  numerous  places  of  public  refort  and  diverfion. 
But  in  the  country,  mutual  good  offices  take  place, 
from  a  mutual  defire  and  neceflity  of  a  friendly  inter- 
courfe.  The  Londoner  hardly  knows  the  name  of  his 
next  door  neighbour  ;  and.  in  accidents  and  diitrefs, 
would  as  foon  think  of  lending  to  Rome,  as  to  him  for 
comfort  and  afnftance.  But  in  any  emergency  in  a 
village,  every  hand  is  ready  to  afford  relief.  Biofpita- 
lity  to  Grangers  ftill  linger:,  in  the  diftant  country,  but 
has  long  been  banifhed  from  that  region  of  avarice  and 
felfifh  profufion,  an  overgrown  city.  Pay  a  vifit  in  Suflex, 
in  Devonshire,  in  Cornwall,  in  Wales,  in  the  North, 
and  compare  your  reception  among  rtrangers  with  that 
\vhichyoumeetwithin  London  andWeftniinller.  Luxury, 
avarice,  and  vice,  have,  indeed,  a  natural  tendency  to 
annihilate  every  generous  principle,  and  to  harden  the 
heart  againil  all  connections,  which  do  not  prorrife  to 
terminate  in  fenfual  pleafure,  or  in'lucrative  advantage. 

The  fecrefy  with  which  crimes  can  be  committed  in 
a  croivd,  is  a  powerful  temptation.  The  Londoner  may 
be  involved  in  debauchery,  and  engaged  in  fraud,  with- 
out being  fufpefted  at  home,  or  in  his  neighbourhood. 
In  thecountry,  the  fear  of  fharr.e,  and  a  principle  of  [ride, 
ofien  operate,  when  virtue,  honour,  and  confcience, 
would  ceafe  to  reltrnin  ;  for  no  one  can  there  be  guilty 
of  an  action' remarkably  difnoneft  or  immoral  without 
detection.  A  gentleman  who  Ihould  devote  himfelf 

ta 


No.  131.  MORAL,    &c.  195 

to  the  arts  of  the  Avindler,  or  the  pra&ices  of  the 
profligate  debauchee,  in  a  village  or  country  town, 
would  foon  be  compelled,  by  the  hifTes  of  infamy,  to  de- 
fert  the  place,  or  to  live  there  in  folitude.  But  in  a  city, 
even  men  adorned  with  the  robes  of  magiftracy  may  pro- 
ceed, with  little  notice,  in  the  mofl  fcandalous  conducl. 

Weaknefs  of  body  and  weaknefs  of  underftanding  are 
often  found  to  characterize  the  inhabitant  of  the  capital. 
Luxury,  want  of  air,  wantoffleep,  excefs  in  food,  and 
in  fenfual  indulgence,  have  a  natural  tendency  to  debi- 
litate. And  if  there  were  not  continual  fupplies  from 
the  North,  I  know  not  whether  the  city  would  not 
exhibit  the  human  race  in  a  moft  lamentable  condition 
of  imbecility,  folly,  diftortion,  and  deformity.  Com- 
pare the  limbs  of  the  volunteer  foldiers  in  the  metro- 
polis with  thofe  of  the  ruftic  militia,  or  regulars;  com- 
pare the  conduct  and  underftanding  of  him  who  was 
born  within  the  found  of  Bow  bell,  with  thofe  of  the 
hardy  native  of  Yorkfhire  or  Scotland. 

The  extremes  of  irreligion  and  enthufiafm  mark  tha 
manners  of  the  capital.  Thefe,  indeed,  are  the  natural 
confequences  of  fome  among  the  many  bad  difpofitions 
already  enumerated.  Sunday  is  confidered  by  the  thrifty 
trader  as  a  holiday,  on  which  he  may  indulge  without 
imprudence.  It  is  therefore  diftinguiflied  by  many  from 
the  reft  of  the  week,  folely  by  excefs,  and  by  vicious 
indulgences.  The  parifh  churches  are  neglefted  ;  nor 
is  there  a  great  concourfe  to  any  place  of  worfhip, 
except  where  fome  enthufiait  or  hypocrite  has  opened  3 
receptacle  for  thofe  who  labour  under  the  fymptoms  of 
idiotifm  or  infinity.  The  fymptoms  are  often  con- 
iirmed  under  'th:s  injudicious  courfe,  till  they  arrive  at 
a  degree  of  real  and  molt  melancholy  madnefs. 

I  have  pointed  out  fome  peculiar  evils  in  the  manners 
of  the  metropolis  with  two  intentions.  One  is,  to 
prevent,  in  fome  degree,  the  prevailing  practice  of 
emigrating  from  the  country,  from  the  feats  of  health, 
and  comparative  innocence,  to  that  fink  of  fin,  and  that 
grave  of  the  human  race,  a  city  too  crowded  with 
people,  and  over-run  with  every  abomination.  The  other 
is,  to  fuggeft  a  hint  which  may  alleviate  that  part  of  the 
evil  which  admits  a  remedy.  The  love  of  money,  of 
K  2  diftindion, 


1.9.6  fi.    S     S.  A     Y     S,  No.  i jr. 

diftinftion,  of  pleafure,  will  probably  fruftrate  the 
former  purpofe ;  but  the  latter,  in  a  day  of  national 
diflrefs,  or  under  other  circumftances  favourable  to  vir- 
tue, may  poffibly  be  accomplifhed. 

To  promote  a  reformation  of  manners,  additional 
authority  and  efficiency  muft  be  given  to  the  clergy 
and  magiftrates  of  London.  Both  of  them  are  at  this 
time  looked  upon  by  the  vulgar,  both  high  and  low, 
with  fovereign  contempt.  The  churches  are  left  to 
curates,  or  poor  incumbents,  who,  in  a  place  where 
riches  are  idolized,  hold  a  rank  fcarcely  equal  to  the 
keeper  of  an  alehoufe  or  an  oil  fhop.  The  juilices  of 
Middlefex  have  long  been  the  Handing  objedls  of  hatred 
.and  derifion.  Are  the  London  clergy,  who  labour 
ftrenuoufly  in  their  vocation,  and  on  whom  fo  much  of 
the  flate  of  morals  and  chriftianity  depends,  particularly 
countenanced  by  the  miniftry  or  the  bifhops  ?  It  is 
parliamentary  interefl  which  procures  mitres,  and  flails., 
and  livings;  and  though  a  city  curate,  or  incumbent, 
fhould  convert  millions  from  the  error  of  their  ways,  he 
would  ftill  be  fuffered  to  elbow  his  way  along  Cheap- 
fide  in  his  thread-bare  coat  and  tattered  gown  ;  pointed 
out  and  laughed  at  by  every  apprentice.  The  common 
people  will  not  difcriminate.  They  will  defpife  religion 
and  morals  when  they  fee  the  teachers  of  them  poor, 
mean,  and  negleded. 

Is  it  not  a  difgrace  to  the  Defenders  of  the  Faith,  &c. 
that  a  .London  clergyman,  who  has  promoted  every 
charity,  and  probably  reformed  great  numbers,  during 
thirty  or  forty  years,  mail  be  fuffered  to  live  and  die 
with  nothing  but  a  curacy  and  a  beggarly  le&urefhip  ? 
and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  he  who  is  related  to 
a  Lord,  or  connected  with  Members  of  Parliament, 
though  he  never  preached,  and  can  hardly  read,  fhall 
be  loaded  with  dignities  and  pluralities  ?  He  who  would 
reform  the  capital,  I  repeat,  mult  render  the  clergy  re- 
fpedlable  in  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar,  and  the  magiltrate* 
formidable* 


NO.  cxxxir. 


No.  132.  MORAL,    &c.  197 


No.  CXXXII.  ON  PHILELPHUS  AND  THEO- 
DORE GAZA,  POLITE  SCHOLARS  OF  THE 
FIFTEENTH  CENTURY. 


/"TpHOUGH  the  admirer  of  elegant  letters  will 
jt  find  his  fweeteft,  moil  folid,  and  moftconrtant  plea- 
fures  of  the  learned  kind,  in  the  writings  of  the  Au- 
-e  ;  y'-t  he  wii;  often  feel  his  curiofity  powerfully 
excite-J,  and  amply  rewarded,  by  thofe  among  the 
revivers  of  learning  who  are  diitinguifhed  by  the  polite- 
nefs  of  their  literary  accomplifliments.  I  was  lately 
amufmg  myfelf  in  this  pleafant  walk  of  clafiic.il  litera- 
ture, when  I  accidentally  met  with  the  Epiftlcs  of 
Philelphus.  Though,  they  are  not  without  a  few  ex- 
preffions  which  mark  the  barbaiifm  of  his  times,  they 
poflefs  a  confiderable  -fiiare  of  elegance,  and  partake 
much  of  the  graces  which  mine  fo  agreeably  in  the 
epiftles  of  Pliny  and  Cicero. 

Philelphus  was  born  at  Tolentino,  in  Italy,  in  the 
year  1398;  a  very  early  period  for  fo  uncommon  an 
ihflance  of  proficiency.  He  died  at  Florence  in  1480, 
after  having  filled  a  long  life  with  the  moft  laborious 
application.  Let  it  be  remembered,  that  printing  was 
unknown  at  that  time,  and  that  not  only  the  books 
which  were  compofed,  but  which  were  alfo  read,  were 
often  painfully  tranfcribed  by  the  ftudent. 

Philelphus  was  no  inconfiderable  poet,  but  was 
crowned  with  laurel,  according  to  the  fafhion  of  the 
times,  by  Alphonfo  king  of  Naples.  He  wrote  five 
different  works  in  verfe,  and,  according  to  his  own 
account  in  one  of  his  letters,  they  confided  of  ten  books- 
of  fatires,  five  books  of  miscellaneous  poems,  the 
Sfortiad  in  eight  books,  ten  books  of  epigrams,  and 
three  bocks  of  Greek  poems.  The  number  of  verfes  in 
the  whole,  as  calculated  by  himfelf,  amounted  to 
thirty-three  thoufand  eight  hundred.  He  Ins  omitted, 
in  this  computation,  his  Nicholaus,  a  poem  in  two 
books,  and  in  fapphic  verfe,  which  he  compofed  in 
K  3  honour 


798  E     S     S    A     Y    S,  No.  13?. 

honour  of  Pope  Nicholas  the  Fifth,  by  whom  he  was 
greatly  efieemed,  and  who  had  invited  him,  by  a 
large  prefenf,  to  undertake  the  transition  of  Homer 
into  Latin.  He  was  fcarcely  lefs  voluminous  in  profe, 
but  lefs  original,  as  his  prcfaic  works  confirt  chiefly  of 
^inflations  from  Lyfjas,  Ariftotle,  Xer.ophcn,  Hippo- 
crates, and  Plutarch  ;  though  he  has  aifo  written 
two  books  of  Convivia,  three  entitled  Coinmentationes 
}-;:orentins%  fi\e  en  Moral  Difcipline,  and  the  Life  and 
Exploits  of  Francis  Sfortia,  in  compliment  to  whom 
the  Sfortiad,  which  has  been  mentioned  already,  was 
compofed.  -There  are  alfo  Orationes,  of  which  Eraf- 
jr.us  fpeaks  rather  anfavourably  in  this  Ciceronianus. 

But  the  only  work  of  Philelphus  which  I  have  had 
r;n  opportunity  of  infpecling,  is  the  EpiiUes,  of  which 
this  prolific  author,  in  the  courfe  of  a  long  life,  has 
\vritten  no  fewer  than  thirty-feven  books.  Thefe 
abound  with  eloquence,  and  with  fuch  literary  anec- 
dotes and  particulars,  as  cannot  but  afford  amufement 
to  the  curious  fcholar.  Though  Morhoff  rather  flights 
them,  yet  Erafmus,  a  much  better  judge,  acknowledges 
that  they  refemble  Cicero. 

I  prefent  there.ider  with  an  extraft  from  one  of  them* 
felecled  for  no  other  reafon  than  that  I  happen  to  be 
reading  it  at  the  time  I  am  writing,  and  that  it  cha- 
rafterizes  the  fpirit  of  the  author,  and  the  great 
attachment  which  he  bore  to  books.  Cardinal  Beflario, 
the  patriarch  of  Conftantinople,  had  applied  to  him,, 
defiring  him  to  fell  his  copy  of  Homer's  Iliad  ;  to 
\vhich  requeft  Philelphus  thus  replies,  "  That  copy 
•'  of  Homer's  Iliad  which  the  very  learned  Theodore 
"  Gaza  has  written  out  for  me,  I  value  fo  much,  that 
44  I  would  not  part  with  it  to  any  man,  for  all  the  vafl 
"  and  wonderful  treafures  of  Crrefus.  I  am  really 
"  furprized  that  you  fhould  think  that  T,  who  always 
«'  had  the  character  of  generofity,  fhould  be  fo  much 
"  changed  as  to  be  capable  of  avarice.  I  have  learned 
"  to  give  away  many  things,  but  to  fell  nothing;  par- 
**  ticularly  books ;  than  which  I  efteem  nothing  of 
"  greater  value.  But  this  book  of  Homer  is  fo  dear 
"  to  my  heart,  and  affords  me  fo  much  pleafure,  that 
"  life  itfelf can  furnilh  nothing  more  delightful.  There- 

"  fo;e 


No.  132.  MORAL,    &c.  199 

"  fore  pardon  me  in  this  one  thing.  If  I  can  gratify 
*'  you  in  any  thing  elfe,  you  may  command  me,  and, 
*'  lhall  not  be  difappointed."  My  paper  will  not  ad- 
mit a  number  of  citations,  and  I  will  therefore  content 
myfelf  with  referring  the  lover  of  elegant  Latinity  and 
literary  anecdotes  to  the  original  collection. 

It  is  a  circumftance  which  adds  to  our  furprize  in 
contemplating  this  example  of  literary  induftry,  that 
Philelphus  was  very  much  'engaged  in  wars  and  in 
embaffies;  fo  true  is  it^  that  the  greateft  exertions 
of  mind  are  compatible  with  the  moft  aclive  life.  His 
writings  are  not  free  from  faults,  from  that  inaccuracy 
which  proceeds  from  hafte  ;  but  he  is  Hill  a  ftupendous 
inftance  of  diligence  and  excellence.  Who  but  muft 
lament,  that,  after  having  done  fo  much  to  enlighten  a 
dark  age,  and  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  princes  and 
pontiffs,  he  fhould  die  in  his  eighty-fecond  year  fo 
poor,  that  his  bed,  and  the  utenfils  of  his  kitchen,  were 
obliged  to  be  fold  to  pay  the  expences  of  his  funeral. 
But  few  men  of  real  genius  love  money  ;  and  of  the 
liberality  of  Philelphus,  the  fragment  which  I  have 
inferted  is  an  ample  testimony. 

I  hope  it  will  not  be  tedious  or  difagreeable  to  the 
Yeader,  if  I  mention  a  few  circumftances  relative  to  the 
friend  and  contemporary  of  Philelphus,  Theodore 
Gaza,  of  whom  he  fpeaks  in  his  epiflle,  as  having 
tranfcribed  for  him  a  very  fine  copy  of  Homer's 
Iliad. 

Theodore  Gaza  was  born  at  Theflalonica,  bat  re- 
ceived a  part  of  his  education  in  Italy.  He  was  an 
elegant  writer  both  in  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  lan- 
guages ;  but  he  difplayed  his  abilities  chiefly  in  tranfla- 
tion  ;  a  moft  ufeful  labour  when  the  learned  languages 
were  imperfectly  underitood.  He  translated  parts  of 
Ariftotle,  Theophraftus,  and  Hippocrates,  into  Latin  j 
and  the  treatife  of  Cicero  on  Old  Age  into  Greek. 
He  wrote  alfo  a  treatife  on  Grammar  in  four  books, 
which  has  been  greatly  celebrated.  Greek  learning, 
and  indeed  all  antient  learning,  is  greatly  indebted  to 
this  diftinguifhcd  reviver  of  it,  Theodore  Gaza. 

But  he  alfo  was  unfortunate,  and  adds  to  the  number 

of  thofe   whom    Providence  has   exhibited    to   prove, 

£  4  that 


200  ESSAY     S,  No.  133. 

that  the  rewards  of  virtuous  and  ufeful  labonr  do  not 
ronfift  in  riches,  honours,  or  any  thing  elfe  which  the 
ruiers  of  this  world  are  able  to  beflcw.  Poor  Gaza  had 
dedicated  his  tranfi?.tion  and  Commentaries  on  Arif- 
totle's  Book  on  Animals  to  Pope  Sixtus  the  Fourth,  in 
hopes  of  procuring-  from  his  patronage  a  little  provision 
for  his  old  age.  The  Pope  gave  him  only  a  purfe  with 
a  few  pieces  in  it,  and  accompanied  his  gift  with  a 
manner,  which  induced  Gaza  to  conclude,  that  it  was 
the  laft  favour  he  mould  receive.  Gaza  received  it  in 
lilence  ;  and  as  he  walked  home,  all  melancholy  and 
indignant,  along  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  he  threw  the 
purfe  into  the  itYeam ;  and  foon  after  died  of  vexation 
and  difappointment. 

I  have  introduced  thefe  examples  with  a  view  to  ani- 
mate the  ftudent  to  induflry  ;  and  at  the  fame  time,  to 
teach  him  to  feek  his  reward  in  his  own  heart,  in  the 
approbation  of  Heaven,  in  the  private  fatisfac~lions  of 
fludy ;  and  not  to  depend  too  much  on  princes,  pontiffs, 
or  popular  favour. 


NO.  CXXXIII.  ON  THE  INEFFICACY  OF 
THAT  STYLE  OF  SPEAKING  AND  WRITING 
WHICH  MAY  BE  CALLED  THE  FROTHY. 


ON  the  decline  of  antient  learning  and  Augnftan 
tafte,  there  arofe  a  number  of  fophifts  and  de- 
claimers,  who,  in  purfiiit  of  an  excellence  in  ftyle 
fuperior  to  the  natural  graces  of  a  better  age,  deviated 
into  a  mod  contemptible  affectation.  Quai<  t,  awk- 
ward, and  frivolous,  as  were  their  embellilhments,  the*y 
paid  their  principal  attention  to  them,  and  totally 
neglected  folidity  and  fubitance.  This  ftyle  of  writing 
characterizes  the  decline  of  a  genuine  and  manly  elo- 
quence. It  is,  indeed,  like  the  hectic  efH  ore  fee  nee  on 
the  countenance  of  an  invalid  far  advanced  in  a  con- 
fumption. 

In    feveral   departments    of  modern  literature,    and 
even  in  our  own  country,  a   ftyle  of  writing   has   ap- 
peared 


No.  153.'  MORAL,    &c.  201 

peared  which  very  much  refembles  the  fophiftical  and 
declamatory.  But  I  know  not  that  it  has  been  foconfpi- 
cuous  in  any -of  our  publications,  as  in  the  popular 
addrefles  from  the  pulpit.  Several  of  the  favourite 
preachers  in  the  capital,  who  feldom  fail  to  fill 
every  church  in  which  they  harnngue,  and  to  raife  the 
largeit  contributions  to  charity  fcKools,  have  pre- 
fented  the  public  with  their  fermons,  in  order  to 
inske  the  experiment,  whether  that  oratory  which: 
delights  the  lower  orders  in  the  pulpit,  would-be 
equally  well  received  in  the  clofet.  It  was  an  unhappy 
experiment  for  the  reputation  of  the  orators;  for  there 
hardly  ever  appeared  more  remarkable  ipecimens  of 
florid,  frothy,  and  meretricious  eloquence.  Sounding 
brafs,  and  tinkling  cymbals,  are  defcriptions  of  it  truly 
emblematical.  If  there  is  any  fweetnefs,  it  is  a  fweet- 
nefs  which  cloys,  and  makes  you  fick ;  if  there  is  any 
brightnefs,  it  is  a  brightnefs  which  dazzles  and  gives 
you  pain  ;  if  there  is  any  gold,  it  is  not  like  the  bul- 
lion, but  like  the  leaf,  expanded  to  a  fuperficies  almofl 
impalpable,  under  the  operation  of  the  goldbeater. 
Indeed,  this  fpacies  of  ftyle  is  very  well  defcribed  by 
the  common  epithet  of  the  frothy;  but,  as  a  means  of 
fupplying  aliment,  or  as  a  conilant  diet,  what  is  a 
fyllabub  to  a  firloin  ? 

Indeed,  almoft  all  the  popular  preachers  in  London 
have  found  it  eafier  to  themfelves,  a-nd  more  agreeable 
to  an  illiterate  and  unthinking  audience,  to  addrefs  the 
ears,  the  fancy,  and  the  paflions,  than  the  faculties  of 
reafon  and  judgment.  If  their  difcourfes  were  found  to 
produce  any  better  effeft  on  their  hearers,  than  that  of 
furniihing  an  amufement  for  a  leifure  half-hour,  it 
would  be  wrong  to  cenfure  them,  merely  becaufe  they 
are  oiFenfive  to  a  delicate  and  a  refined  tafte.  But  the 
truth  is,  that  they  excite  only  transient  emotions, 
which,  though  they  may  laft  long  enough  to  dravy 
from  the  hearer  a  milling  for  the  churchwarden's  plate 
at  the  church  door,  will  feldoin  go  home  with  him,  or 
produce  an  uniform  influence  on  his  perfonal  and  focial 
conduct.  He  goes  to  hear  a  fine  preacher  as  he  goes  to  a 
play,  to  be  entertained  when  he  has  nothing  elfe  to  do  ;  he 
pays  for  his  entertainment  at  the.  door,  and  gives  himlHf 
K  5  no 


202  ESSAY     S>  No.  isj, 

no  farther  concern  on  fuch  fubje&s,  but  to  look  out 
for  a  fimilar  one,  when  his  fhop  or  warehoufe,  or 
counting-houfe,  are  fhut  up,  through  the  neceflity  of 
complying  with  the  laws  and  cuftoms  of  the  country. 

It  may  be  faid,  that  though  a  tafte,  formed  by  the 
pure  models  of  Greece  and  Rome,  may  reprobate  the 
frothy  ftyle,  yet,  fince  it  is  found  to  entertain  the 
vulgar  of  a  great  capital,  fometimes  ufefully,  and 
always  innocently,  it  ought  not  to  be  exploded.  But 
perhaps  we  are  not  able  to  grant,  that  it  does  entertain 
them  either  ufefully  or  innocently.  It  certainly  gives 
them  wrong  ideas  of  religion,  and  teach-as  them  to 
neglect  and  defpiie  the  difpaffionate  fuggeftions  of  reafon. 
But  it  is  one  of  the  principal  objections  to  this  popular 
or  frothy  preaching,  that  it  allures  men  from  their 
own"  parifh  churches,  and  induces  them  to  defert  the 
pulpit  of  a  modeft  and  regularly  educated  clergyman, 
for  fome  noify  and  bold,  fome  ignorant  and  hypo- 
critical, pretender.  It  leads  them  from  the  light  of  the 
fun  to  thofe  meteors  and  vapours,  whofe  dancing 
and  uncertain  gleam  often  conducts  them  into  quag- 
mires. There  are  few  pariihes  in  the  metropolis  which 
do  not  contain  fome  thoufands  of  inhabitants  ;  but  you- 
will  often  find,  in  their  refpecYtve  churches  not  more 
than  one  hund.red,  and  fometimes  fcarccly  half  that 
number.  \yhither  are  they  gone  ?  Many,  indeed,  are 
caroufing  in  -the  delectable  retreats  of  the  rural  Hoxton  ; 
hsjt  many  are  alfo  gone  to  the  new  built  chapels,  or  the 
crowded  churches,  where  fome  filver-tongued  orator  is 

? reaching  himfelf,  with  all  the  pathos  of  a  white 
anckerchief,  the  fplendor  of  a  diamond  ring,  the  fmart- 
r.efs  of  a  well-drefled  head,  and  the  deceitful  grimaces 
of  an  importer.  Religion,  however,  muft  lofe  much  of 
her  venerable  air,  when,  inflead  of  the  decent  clothing 
of  a  chafte  and  honourable  matron,  fhe  is  reprefented 
in  the  taudry  and  flimfy  garment,  the  painted  checks,, 
the  glafs  ear-rings,  the  falle  brilliants  of  the  falfe 
courtezan. 

I  think  I  may  confidently  affirm,  that  the  frothy  ftyle 
would  not  be  tolerated  at  the  bar  or  in  the  fenate. 
It  would  be  thought  too  trifling  for  the  important 
fubjects  of  property  and  politics.  It  would  be  an- 

object 


No.  135.  MORAL,    &c.  2»5 

objed  of  ridicule.  And  ftiall  that  oratory  which  is 
hooted  from  the  forum,  not  only  take  refuse,  but  lift  up 
her  head  in  triumph  in  the  pulpit?  It  is  not  furprifing, 
that  men  of  fenfe  pafs  by  wagging  their  heads  when 
they  find  an  orator  haranguing  in  a  church  with  all  the 
afteded  language  and  fentiments  of  a  fafhionable  auc- 
tioneer. The  eloquence  which  has  diftinguimed  many 
of  the  moft  favourite  preachers,  and  writers  of  palpic 
harangues,  is  not  that  of  St.  Paul,  of  Demolthenes,  of 
Cicero  ;  but  of  thofe  great  mailers  of  florid  defcription, 
Meflieurs  Langford  and  ChrilHe. 

I  believe  it  will  appear  connftent  with  reafon,  that  a 
peculiar  degree  of  gravity  and  folidity,  far  exceeding 
that  of  the  fenate  or  bar,  is  required  to  produce  the 
due  effed  of  pulpit  oratory.  Practical  divinity  is  the 
gravelt  fpecies  of  moral  philof-phy,  deriving  additional 
dignity  and  force  from  the  authenticity  of  revelation. 
The  appearance  of  truth  and  fimplicity  is  its  moft 
becoming  ornament.  To  apply  to  it  the  little  arts  of 
rhetoric,  and  the  petty  graces  of  affedation,  would  be 
like  painting,  in  tawdry  and  variegated  colours,  thofe 
Corinthian  columns  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  which  derive 
all  their  beauties  from  their  fimple  and  fymmetrical  gran- 
deur. When  we  go  to  church  we  hope  to  hear  faiutary 
truth,  and  to  receive  improvement  of  mind  and  morals. 
When  we  wifh  to  be  only  amufed,  we  fhall  repair  to  the 
opera  and  the  puppet-fhew. 

I  will  take  the  liberty  to  hint  to  young  and  fafhion- 
.able  divines,  who  are  in  general  fmittcn  with  the  falfe 
graces  of  ityle  and  delivery,  that  their  congregation  would 
be  much  more  edified,  if,  inftead  of  moral  effays,  in 
.what- they  cz\\_fi»e  language^  they  would  preach  ferraons, 
properly  fo  called,  in  the  plain  ftyle  of  truth  and  fcrip- 
ture.  Let  them  alfo  take  care,  as  they  will  anfwer  it  to 
Him  in  whofe  name  they  aicend  the  pulpit,  not  to 
preach  themfelves,  but  the  Gofpel  ;  not  to  be  fo  felicit- 
ous in  the  difplay  of  a  white  hand,  as  of  a  pure  heart j 
cf  a  diamond  ring,  as  of  a  fhining  example. 


No.  CXXXIV. 


^04.  ESSAYS,  No.  134. 

'NO.  CXXXIV.  ON  THE  GENIUS  OF  ERASMUS. 


BA  T  A  V I  A  and  Bceotia  are  by  no  means  remark- 
able for  the  production   of  genius ;    but  Bosotia 
may  boait  ,her  Pindar,  and  Batavia  her  Erafmus. 

I  mean  not  to  eonfider  the  theological  opinions  of  Eraf- 
mus, but  his  learning  and  his  genius;  and  of  thefe- 
I  may  venture  to  affirm,  that  if  Erafmus  had  lived  in 
an  Aiiguftan  age,  they  would  have  advanced  him  to 
a  rank  among  the  beft  of  the  daffies.  But  the  theology 
and  theologians  of  his  times  were  at  open  war  with 
the  graces  of  tafte  and  elegance ;  and,  confidering  the 
authority  which  they  pofTefled,  and  the  fcarcity  of  any 
other  writings  than  thofe  which  proceeded  from  the 
cloifter,  it  may  be  pronounced  almoft  impoflible  to  have 
lived  and  written  in  that  age,  without  contracing  a 
tinge  of  the  prevailing  barbarifm. 

The  ftyle  of  Erafmus  is  not  therefore  perfectly  pure- 
and  claflicnl  ;  but  it  is  his  own,  and  it  has  a  native 
charm  which  renders  it  agreeable.  I  would  not  advife- 
a  young  man  to  view  it  as  a  model  ;  nor,  indeed,  to- 
be  much  converfant  in  the  works  of  Erafmus,  or  any 
modern  writer  of  Latin,  till  his  tafte  be  formed,  an4 
his  judgment  regulated,  by  Terence,  Virgil,  Casfar, 
and  Cicero. 

But  he,  whofe  mind  is  mature,  and  whofe  compre- 
henfive  powers  are  capable  of  grafping  all  pre-eminent 
authors,  whether  antient  or  modern,  will  receive  plea- 
fure  and  improvement  in  a  great  degree  from  the  writings 
of  Erafmus.  They  have  ufually  been  ftudied  only  by 
divines,  and  for  theological  information.  But  I  warmly 
recommend  them  to  the  lover  of  philology,  or  of  claffi- 
cal  learning,  as  furniiliing  a  difh  for  fuch  a  palate, 
both  plentiful  and  highly  feafoned.  Erafmus  was  born 
to  cultivate  the  Liters  Human/ores,  or  the  politer  parts 
of  learning;  and  I  have  often  lamented,  that  he  fhould 
Jbave  been  diverted  from  thofe  flowery  paths  into  the 
rough  icjds  of  controverfial  divinity, 

6  The 


No,  134.  M   O   R   A   L,     &c.  zo5 

-  The  Colloquies,  or  Dialogues  of  Erafmus,  are  often 
ufed  to  initiate  boys,  at  an  early  age,  in  the  fludy  of 
the  Latin  language.  They  are  uncommonly  lively, 
entertaining,  and  inftruftive  ;  and  as  there  is  not  much 
danger  of  corrupting  the  ftyle  of  a  very  young  bo)v 
there  are,  perhaps,  few  books  better  adapted  to  the- 
purpofe.  Indeed  we  muft  not  do  Erafmus  the  injuftice 
to  afTert,  that  he  is  devoid  of  elegance  in  ftyle  ;  for 
though,  wherever  he  exprefles  theological  ideas  he  is 
almoll  under  the  neceflity  of  ufing  words  unknown  to 
the  writers  of  a  better  age,  yer,  on  other  occafions,  he> 
really  abounds  with  phrafes  of  the  purelt  and  fweeteft* 
Latinity.  Neither  are  his  Dialogues  to  be  confidered' 
as  fit  only  for  boys,  fince  they  abound  in  wit,  humour, 
gcod  fenl'e,  and  in  allufions  which  ftrongly  mark  the- 
fertility  of  the  mind  from  which  they  originate.  In  a- 
comparative  eftimate  of  genius,  according  to  its  kinds 
and  degrees,  I  fhould  not  hefitate  to  place  Erafmus  in- 
the  fame  clafs-  with  Lucian;  There  i%  indeed,  a  fea- 
ibning  of  fait  in  all  his  writings,  in  which  the  neceflity 
of  being  grave  did  not  forbid  him  to  be  facetious.  The 
Ciceroniantis  is  an  admirable  fpeehiion  of  judgment  and' 
plea  fan  try. 

His  Praife  of  Foily  is  a  molt  humorous  fatire,  and  re- 
flects no  lefs  honour  on  the  inventive  powers,  than  on 
the  good  fenfe  of  its  author;  as  it  was  written,  if  I 
miitake  not,  in  the  fpace  of  one  week,  for  the  amufe- 
ment  of  himfelf  and  Sir  Thomas  More,  at  whofe  hoiife  he 
was  upon  a  vifit.  It  made  its  author  many  enemies ;  but; 
his  genius  rofe  like  the  arm  of-  a  giant  againft  a  hoft  of 
pigmies,  and  defeated  them  all  after  a  fhort  conflict. 
His  forgivenefs  of  the  vain  and  angry  Dorpius,  who  firft' 
attacked  him,  evinces  his  magnanimity  and  goodnefs  of; 
heart.  Spite  and  envy  may  fecretly  undermine,  but  can 
feldom  make  an  open  and  fuccefsful  attack  on  the  fort- 
refs  of  true  genius  and  fincere  virtue. 

But  the  Epiftles  of  Erafmus  will,  perhnps,  be  found 
to  furnifh  the  ftudent  in  philology  with  more  amufe- 
ment  than  any  other  of  his  woii:s.  They  are,  indeed, 
a  valuable  treafure  of  curious  information.  Their  clear 
and  lively  language,  their  poignant  wit,  and  good- 
natured  humour,  render  it  difficult  io  lay  them  Vide, 

wheo. 


2o6  ESSAY    S,  No.  154. 

when  once  we  are  engaged  in  the  ferious  perufal  of  them. 
f[  hey  are  very  numerous,  but  they  are  by  no  means  alt 
which  Erafmus  wrote.  He  complains,  indeed,  of  being 
obliged  to  write  fo  manv,  that  there  was  not  a  poffibi- 
lity  "of  taking  copies  of  them  all.  A  great  (hare  of 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  of  human  nature,  as  well 
as  of  letters  and  literary  characters,  may  be  collected 
from  them  by  the  attentive  reader. 

But,  indeed,  to  whatever  part  of  his  voluminous  works 
we  turn  our  attention,  we  can  fcarcely  avoid  the  fenti- 
ments  of  pleafure  and  furprize.  He  has  written  more 
than  many  ftudents  were  ever  able  to  read.  He  has 
written  fo  excellently,  that  all  the  learned,  except  a 
few  envious  contemporaries,  fron  his  own  times  to 
ours,  have  uniformly  confidered  him  as  a  prodigy. 
And  let  it  never  be  forgotten,  that,  under  Providence, 
he  owed  his  education  and  fubfequent  improvements 
entirely  to  himfelf.  He  was  ufed  ill  and  neglected  in 
his  youth.  He  abounded  neither  in  books  nor  in  in- 
ftruclors  ;  but  he  poflefled  a  genius  and  a  love  of  let- 
ters, before  which  all  obftacles  ufually  give  way,  like 
the  Alps  to  an  Uannibal. 

It  adds  greatly  to  our  wonder,  in  contemplating  his 
large,  and  crowded  tomes,  when  we  recollect  that  he 
fpent  his  life  in  a  moft  unfettled  (late,  and  in  conitantly 
travelling  from  city  to  city,  and  from  kingdom  to  king- 
dom. But  his  mind  was  employed  in  itudy  wherever  he 
went,  and  he  compofed  many  parts  of  his  works  as  he 
rode  on  his  horfe.  He  was  alfo  attacked  by  many  ene- 
mies ;  and  though  he  was  placable,  yet  as  he  was  alfo 
jraicible,  much  of  that-time  and  attention,  which  would 
otherwife  have  been  devoted  to  calm  contemplation,  was 
neceflarily  loll  in  controverfy. 

He  was  certainly  the  greateft  man  of  his  time.  Popes, 
kings,  archbifhops,  bifhops,  and  cardinals,  hide  their 
diminifhed  heads  in  his  prefence.  One  is,  irrde  d,  al- 
moit  tempted  to  laugh  when  one  furveys  a  groupe  of 
ftupid  perfonages,  with  crowns  and  mitres,  riches  and 
titles,  fitting  on  their  thrones  and  in  their  cathedrals,  yet 
bowing  with  an  homage  at  once  abject  and  involuntary,, 
to  the  perfonal  merit  of  the  poor  Erafmus.  He,  indeed, 
\yas  permitted,  by  Providence,  to  pafs  through  his  pil- 
i  grimage 


No.  135.  MORAL,    &c.  207 

grimage  in  this  world  without  ecclefiaftical  riches  or 
dignity ;  he  was  defigned  as  an  inftance  to  prove,  that 
great  merit  is  its  own  reward,  and  that  temporal  dif- 
tinclions  are  allowed,  like  trifles  beneath  the  notice  of 
heaven,  to  fall  indifcriminately  on  the  dcferving  and  the 
undeferving,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant.  Erafmus 
had  no  mitre  ;  but  he  had  the  internal  fatisfacHons  of 
genius  ;  he  had  glory,  he  had  liberty. 

Though  I  am  fenfible  he  wants  no  addition  to  his  famer 
and  could  not  receive  any  from  my  applaufe,  yet  I  have 
ventured  to  pay  him  thi»  humble  tribute,  as  the  oblation, 
of  gratitude  for  the  great  and  repeated  pleafure  which  his 
works  once  afforded  me  in  the  retirement  of  a  college. 


No.    CXXXV.       ON     THE    EDUCATION    OF 
PRINCE. 


AN  opinion  has  often  prevailed,  that  the  education 
of  a  prince  ought  to  be  totally  different  from  that 
of  other  gentlemen,  and  that  any  remarkable  fhare  of 
learning  would  difgrace  him.  I  fhall  not  hefitate  to 
affirm,  that  they  were  the  enemies  of  princes  who  ad- 
vanced  fucli  an  opinion  ;  for  nothing  can  contribute' 
more  effectually  to  the  general  abolition  of  the  mo- 
narchical form  of  government,  than  to  render  the  cha- 
racter and  perfon  of  the  monarch  contemptible.  In  an 
age  and  country  enlightened  like  our  tmn,  if  a  king 
were  the  only  gentleman  unadorned  with  a  liberal  edu- 
cation, his  kingly  office  would  ferve  only  to  augment 
the  contempt,  and  roufe  the  indignation  of  his  people. 
Though  he  mould  fit  on  his  throne,  furrounded  by  his 
cringing  courtiers,  and  his  Handing  army  ;  and  thoug'h, 
he  mould  number  among  the  provinces  of  his  empire,, 
the  regions  of  the  call  and  the  weft  ;  yet,  in  the  eyes  of 
every  lenfible  and  independent  fpeclator,  his  perfonal 
littlenefs  would  be  rendered  ftill  lefs,  by  a  companion 
with  his  hereditary  and  official  magnificence.  The 
faults  of  the  perfon  would  be  attributed  to  the  form  of  his 

government  i 


2i>8"  E-   S     $    A     Y     S,  No.  13^. 

government;  and  men  of  the  greateft  moderation,  if 
they  were  exempt  from  royal  influence,  would  heave  an 
involuntary  figh  for  a  republic  or  a  revolution. 

Every  friend  therefore  to  a  reigning  family,  every 
lover  of  political  tranquillity,  and  of  regular  fubordi- 
nation,  will  vviih  to  augment  the  perfonal  accompliih- 
ments  of  that  youth  who  is  deftined,  at  fome  future 
period,  to  wield  a  fceptre.  He  will  recoiled,  that  the 
mind  of  a  prince  comes  from  the  hand  of  nature,  in  a 
ftate  no  lefs  rude  than  the  mind  of  a  peafant ;  and  that, 
if  it  is  not  formed  by  early  culture,  it  will  foon  become - 
much  ruder,  more  refractory,  and  more  vicious^  under  • 
the  many  unfavourable  circumftances  of  an  exalted  fta- 
tion.  It  will  be. readily  allowed,  that  a  peculiar  polift, 
enlargement,  and  liberality,  is  required  in  him  who  is 
to  look  with  a  comprehenfive  eye  through  all  the  ranks 
of  fociety.,  and  eitimate  the  true  interefts  of  nations,  and* 
of  mankind  at  large.  Both  the  heart  and  the  under- 
itanding  of  fuch  an  one,  Inould  be  expanded  to  the  ut- 
moft  degree  of  poffible  dilation. 

But  no  method  of  culture  is  found  fo  much  to  ferti- 
lize the  human  mind,  as  that  kind  of  difcipline  which. 
is  called  the  claflical.  A  prince,  therefore,  though  he 
fhould  certainly  be  educated  in  private,  ought  to  be- 
trained  according  to  the  modes  which  the  experience  of 
ages  has  eftabliihed  as  the  moft  fuccefsful  in  a  public 
feminary.  No  whimfical  fyftems  of  pragmatical  and 
conceited  tutors  ihould  be  admitted.  The  boy  mould- 
be  taught  his  grammar  like  other  boys  ;  for  though  there  • 
is  indeed  a  royal  game  of  the  goofe,  I  never  have  yet-, 
heard  of  a  royal  method  of  learning  Latin  and  Greek ; 
and  if  there  be  fuch  an  one,  the  fuccefs  of  it  itill  re- 
mains among  the  arcana  of  ftate. 

An  heir  to  a  crown  mould  certainly  learn  the  antient- 
as  well  as  the  modern  languages  ;  and  he  will  not  be 
able  to  learn  them  effeftually,  without  learning  them- 
radically.  Away  then  with  the  indolence  and  indul- 
gence which  grandeur  foolifhly  claims  as  a  happy 
privilege  !  Let  the  boy,  if -you  wilh  him  to  maintain- 
the  dignity  of  a  man  and  a  king,  be  early  enured  to 
mental  labour.  Let  his  memory  be  exerciled  in  learn- 
ing the  rules  of  Lilly's  grammar.  Let  him.  be  confine^- 

to 


No.  135.  MORAL,    &c.  209 

to  his  books  and  papers  all  the  morning,  and  part  of  the 
evening,  from  the  age  of  five  to  nineteen.  The  maids 
of  honour  will  cry  out  lhame  !  the  fycophantic  herd  of 
young  noblemen,  who  crowd,  with  all  the  fervilhy  of 
their  own  footmen,  around  a  throne,  will  repine  that 
they  cannot  have  an  opportunity  of  introducing  them- 
felves  to  the  familiarity  cf  the  future  King  ;  —  but  re- 
gard neither  the  foolim  exclamations  of  vanity,  nor  the 
mean  murmurs  of  felf-intereit.  Proceed  with  him  re- 
gularly, from  the  fables  of  Phscdrus  to  the  philofcphy  cf 
Cicero,  from  the  Cyropaedia  of  Xenophon  to  the  hiitorieg 
and  politics  of  Herodotus,  Thucydides,  Livy,  Salluft, 
and  Polybius.  Let  his  ear  be  familiarized  to  the  fine 
language  and  fentiments  of  Cicero  and  Demofthenes, 
and"  his  heart  ennobled  by  the  examples  of  the  brighteit 
characters  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

Why  mould  his  fuperintenciants  b*  fo  cruel  as  not  to 
cultivate  in  him  a  tafte  for  the  beauties  of  poetry,  or 
leave  him  unacquainted  with  Homer  and  Virgil?  An 
elegant  tafte,  an  humanized  difpofition,  an  enlightened 
understanding,  will  adorn  him  more  than  the  jewels  in 
his  crown,  or  the  robes  of  his  coronation.  It  will  give 
him  an  internal  fource  of  happinefs,  and  will  teach  him 
rather  to  feek  his  pleafures  in  a  humane  and  generous 
conduct,  than  in  the  difplay  of  pomp,  or  the  indulgence 
of  luxury.  A  prince,  with  a  mind  uncultivated,  muft 
neceflarily  take  his  chief  delight  in  mifchief,  in  vice,  OF 
in  unprincely  occupations  ;  but  he,  whcfe  undemanding 
is  illuminated,  and  heart  purified  by  a  right  discipline, 
will  deferve  a  title  which  has  been  often  unjuilly  claimed 
—  that  of  Heaven's  Vicegerent. 

When,  by  the  clofe  application  of  ten  or  twelve  years, 
a  firm  and  broad  bafis  is  laid  of  antient  learning,  let  the 
ftripling  be  introduced  to  the  avenues  of  all  the  vans  of 
human  knowledge.  Let  the  years  which  elapfe  till  he 
is  of  the  age  of  three  or  four  and  twenty,  be  empio-.  ed 
in  acquiring  proper  ideas  cf  all  the  objects,  whether  na- 
tural or  civil,  which  furrour-d  him,  under  the  tuition  of 
a  governor,  who  poflefles  not  only  official  and  titular,  but 
pcrKMvJ  authority  ;  under  one  who  is  not  frightened  by 
the  laughter  of  falhion,  of  diflipation,  or  of  falfe  philo^. 

fophy, 


zio  ESSAYS,  No.  13;. 

fophy,  from  filling  his  pupil's  mind  with  moral  virtues, 
and  a  fincere,  not  a  political,  veneration  for  chriflianity. 

All  this  is  a  general  preparation  for  the  particular 
purfuits  which  become  a  King  ;  and  thefe  are  law  and 
politics.  I  mean  not  the  narrow  fyftem  of  a  mercenary 
practitioner  and  a  cunning  ftatefrnan,  but  the  general 
principles  of  juftice  and  equity  ;  the  wife  maxims  of  go- 
vernment, as  it  is  inftuuted  for  the  diffuiion  of  happi- 
refs  and  virtue  among  the  individuals  of  a  nation,  and 
not  for  the  exten/ion  of  empire,  or  the  accumulation  of 
deftruftive  opulence.  What  a  fituation  is  a  throne 
for  the  indulgence  of  the  feelings  of  a  chriftian,  and  of 
a  companion  ate  friend  to  wretched  human  nature!  I 
would  not,  indeed,  refer  a  prince  for  maxims  of  equity 
and  government  to  Puffendorf  and  Grotius,  the  dull 
and  unfeeling  deliberators  of  queftions  on  which  a  good 
heart  and  underftanding  can  intuitively  decide  ;  but  to 
his  own  heart  and  eyes,  to  his  oivn  enlightened  reafon, 
to  the  page  of  fcripture,  and  to  the  volumes  of  authen- 
ticated hiftory. 

Princes  have  been  almoft  uniformly  confined  in  their 
views  to  the  narrow  fyftems  of  worldly  politicians,  and 
of  interefted  courtiers.  Falfe  grandeur  has  fafcinated 
themfelves,  and  their  fubjects.  National  profperity  has 
been  eftimated  by  fleets  and  armies,  commerce  and  reve- 
nues. The  morals,  the  health,  the  religion  of  the  in- 
dividuals, are  confiderations  which  do  not  claim  the 
attention  of  a  cabinet,  but  are  difcarded  as  fubjecb  of 
declamation  in  the  church  or  in  the  fchools.  '*  What 
"  is  it  to  me,"  cries  aloud  the  Wifdom  of  this  world, 
*'  while  his  lordfhip  knows  how  to  fuperintend  the  navy, 
"  whether  he  believes  in  God  or  the  Devil,  and  whether 
"  he  has  kept  fuch  laws  as  I  neither  underftand  nor 
"  value,  the  laws  of  relative  and  chriRian  duty  r"  A 
nation  thus  advances  in  the  devious  paths  of  a  falfe  wif- 
dom,  till  an  incenfed  Providence,  wearied  with  repeated 
provocation,  vifus  it  at  laft  with  a  curfe.  Look  from 
the  Ganges  to  the  Thames,  and  acknowledge  the  evi- 
dent vilitation  of  a  chaflifing  Providence. 

Imagination  triumphs  in  the  profpecl:  of  a  golden  age^ 
when  Princes,  and  all  who  are  concerned  in  the  executive 

parts 


No.  136.  MORAL,     &c.  211 

parts  of  government,  fhall  be  early  formed  to  virtue,  to 
learning,  to  humanity,  to  religion.  How  happy,  it  has 
been  faid,  would  it  be,  if  Philofophers,  who  are  juftly  fo 
called,  were  Kings;  or  Kings,  Philofophers! 


No.    CXXXVI.       INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS 
ON  THE  ART  OF   PRINTING. 


THAT  the  defire  of  knowledge  for  its  own  fake,, 
is  an  adventitious  paflion  unknown  to  nature, 
and  to  be  clafied  among  the  refinements  of  civilization* 
is  an  opinion  unfupported  by  experience,  and  deroga- 
tory from  the  native  dignity  of  a  rational  creature.— 
Fancy  and  fentiment,  the  powers  of  the  intellect,  and 
the  feelings  of  the  heart,  are,  perhaps,  by  nature  equally 
ftrong  and  fufccptible  in  the  rude  Indian,  and  in  the  po- 
lifhed  member  of  an  eftablifhed  community.  Perhaps 
thefe  fimilar  powers  would  be  equally  fit  for  exertion,  and 
thefe  propenfnies  equally  importunate  for  gratification,  if 
the  favage  were  not  conftantly  engaged  in  providing  for 
that  neceflary  fuftenance,  which,  without  his  own  inter- 
pofition,  is  commonly  fecured  to  the  philofopher. 

The  pupil  of  nature,  under  all  his  difadvantages,  feels 
the  impulfe  of  a  fpecies  of  literary  curiofity,  and  feek> 
its  fatisfaftion.  He  pofTeffes  the  faculty  of  memory  ; 
he  muft,  therefore,  without  the  co-operation  of  his  will,, 
remember  many  of  the  impreflions  received  by  the  fenfes: 
he  has  a  power  of  reflection,  which  will  teach  him  to 
reafon  and  draw  inferences,  without  defigning  it,  from 
the  objeds  of  his  experience  and  obfervation.  He 
feels  within  himfelf  an  imagination,  capable  of  recalling 
paft  ideas  of  pleafure  and  pain,  and  apt  to  be  delighted 
by  beauty,  novelty,  and  grandeur.  Every  natural  ex- 
ertion of  natural  faculties  is  attended  with  fatisfaflion. 
He  feels  it  from  the  unpremeditated  exertions  of  the 
mental  powers ;  he  tacitly  acknowledges  it  to  be  conge- 
nial to  his  mind,  and  of  courfe  endeavours  to  repeat, 

to 


*i2  ESSAYS,  No.  136. 

to  extend,  and  to  prolong  it :  but  the  objecls  which  fall 
under  the  notice  cf  his  own  fenfes,  and  his  perional  ex- 
perience, are  inPjfiiciep.t  in  number  and  importance  to 
iatisfy  his  capacity.  He  is  led  to  enquire  what  patted 
among  his  forefathers,  and  in  his  turn  is  requelled  by 
his  progeny  to  communicate  his  own  remarks,  fuper- 
added  to  the  information  of  his  anceitors. 

Such,  probably,  is  the  origin  of  Tradition  ;  a  mode 
of  communicating  knowledge,  once  univerfal,  and  ilill, 
perhaps,  fubfilting  in  the  newly  difcovered  iilands  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  on  the  banks  of  the  Senegal,  and  at 
the  foot  of  the  Andes.  Beneath  the  (hade  of  his  plan- 
tain, the  patriarch  Indian  flill  recites  the  divine  origin 
of  his  tribe  or  family,  the  warlike  actions  of  his  an- 
Ceftor,  and  of  his  own  perfonal  prowefs.  The  attentive 
audience  carry  aw-iy  the  talc,  and  fupply  the  defecls 
of  memory  by  the  aid  of  imagination.  The  flory 
fpreads,  time  gives  it  a  fan&ion,  and  at  lalt  it  is  found 
to  conftitute  the  molt  authentic  hiftory,  however  obfcure 
and  fabulous,  cf  the  origin  of  a  nation,  after  it  has 
emerged  from  barbarifm,  and  is  become  the  feat  of  arts 
and  learning. 

In  the  earlieft  and  rudeft  ftate  of  literature,  if  we 
may  give  that  appellation  to  the  efforts  of  the  intel- 
lectual faculties  where  letters  are  unknown,  is  often 
produced  the  moft  animated,  and  perhaps  moft  perfedl, 
though  leaft  nrtificial,  poetry.  Hiftoric  truth  is,  indeed, 
little  regarded,  as  it  is  addrefli-d  to  reafon  rather  than 
to  fancy  ;  but  poetic  compofuion  appears  with  marks  of 
genius  approaching  to  infpirarion.  From  his  memory, 
or  his  invention,  or  from  both,  the  favage  is  heard  to 
pour  forth  the  fong  of  war,  and  to  warble  the  notes  of' 
love,  warm  with  the  fentiments  of  a  feeling  heart,  and 
compenfating  the  want  of  regularity  and  grace,  by  the 
ftrength  and  vivacity  of  natural  expreftion. 

If  we  believe  the  reprefentations  of  foir.e  writer?,, 
poems  equal  in  length  to  the  moil  celebrated  Epopeas 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  have  been  handed  down,  without 
the  aid  of  letters,  from  the  remoteft  antiquity  to  the* 
prefent  day  ;  and  in  our  own  country  and  times,  tradi- 
tionary tales,,  poetic  and  profaic,  are  known  to  abound 


No.  136.  M  O   R   A  L,    &c.  '13 

in  that  lowed  clafs  among  us,  who  are  yet  unacquainted 
with  the  elements  of  learning.  The  rmant  of  the  cot- 
tage, ftupid  and  incurious  as  he  may  appear  to  the  polite 
obferver,  has  his  fund  of  entertaining  knowledge,  and 
knows  how  to  enliven  the  winter  evening  with  tales  of 
.fairies,  giants,  and  inchantments,  which  he  believed  oa 
the  word  of  his  progenitors,  and  which  his  hearers  re- 
ceive with  equal  pleafure  and  credulity,  intending  to 
tranfmit  them  to  the  rifing  generation. 

The  early  appearance,  and  the  univcrfality  of  tra- 
ditional learning,  leems  to  eftabHm  the  opinion,  that 
the  love  of  knowledge  is  among  the  f:rfl:  and  importu- 
nate dcfires  inherent  to  the  human  heart.  We  fee  it 
"believing  abfurdity,  and  admiring  nonfenie ;  we  fee  it 
bearing  one  of  the  ftrongeft  characteriftics  of  natural 
inclinations,  a  proneneis  to  neglect  reafon  in  purfuit  of 
gratification. 

'i  his  aident  love  of  knowledge  which  gave  rife  to 
tradition,  Icon  invented  improvements  whLh  frperfeded 
its  general  necefiit/.  Tradition  was  foon  found  to  be  at- 
tended \\ith  gre  t  ii.  onveniencie?,  and  to  be  defective 
in  its  moft  perfect  Mate.  A  thoufand  important  circum- 
ftances  muft  neceffarily  elude  the  moft  retentive  memory; 
>.nd,  befide  the"  evils  refulting  from  the  weakr.efs  of  that 
faculty,  and  from  the  .general  inclination  to  exaggerate 
and  embellifh  the  llmplicity  of  truth,  the  want  of  writ- 
ten rtandards  to  appeal  to,  afforded  conftant  opportuni- 
ties for  impofition.  Uprightnsfs  of  intention,  and 
ftrength  of  memory,  were  not  always  united  in  thofe  who 
undertook  the  recital  of  events.  Accuracy  and  juftnefs 
of  reprefentation  were  rare;  and  the  civil  hiftory  of  every 
people,  without  a  fingle  exception,  is,  in  its  firft  pe- 
riods, dark  and  incoherent;  fuch,  indeed,  as  might  be 
expected  from  oral  authority. 

The  inventor  of  means  to  fupply  the  defects  of  me- 
mory, and  to  preclude  the  opportunity  of  deceit,  it  Is 
obvious  to  conclude,  would  be  confidered  as  a  great 
benefactor  to  mankind,  and  elevated  by  the  exube- 
rant gratitude  of  a  rude  age,  above  the  rank  of 
humanity.  To  Theuth,  the  inventor  of  letters  among 
the  Egyptians,  and  to  ihe  fame  perfonage,  under 

the 


214  ESSAYS,  No.  136. 

the  name  of  Hermes  among  the  Greeks,  divine  ho- 
nours were  paid;  an  apotheofis  furely  more  juftifi- 
able  on  principles  of  reafon,  than  that  of  Bacchus, 
the  cultivator  of  the  vine,  or  of  Hercules,  the  cleanfer 
of  a  ftable. 

To  communicate  their  difcovery,  the  inventors  of 
literary  fymbols  found  it  neceflary  to  mark  them  on 
fame  fubftance  fufceptible  of  impreffion  or  penetration. 
What  that  fubftance  was,  is  a  fubjecl:  of  curious,  but 
unimportant  enquiry.  The  original  mode  of  infcrib- 
ing  the  newly  difcovered  characters,  however  conducted, 
was  probably  very  imperfect;  but,  as  it  happens  in  all 
difcoveries  of  momentous  confequence,  the  idea  of  it, 
once  ftarted,  was  purfued  with  that  general  ardour  and. 
attention,  which  never  fails  to  produce  a  great  improve- 
ment. The  flone,  the  palm  leaf,  the  biblos  or  bark  of 
the  linden  tree,  the  leaden  tablet,  the  papyrus  manu- 
factured into  the  charta,  the  parchment,  and  the  pugil- 
Jares,  refpectively  ferved,  as  progreflive  advancement 
fuggefted,  or  as  convenience  required,  to  receive  the 
-written  lucubrations  of  the  antient  poet,  philofopher, 
legiflator,  and  hiftori.in. 

That  many  of  the  nobleft  efforts  of  antient  genius, 
though  committed  to  writing  on  fubftances  fo  frail  as 
the  papyrus,  and  fo  fubject  to  erafure  as  the  waxen  tablet, 
ihould  have  reached  the  prefent  age,  is  an  event  only  to 
be  accounted  for  by  fuppofing,  that  their  confpicuous 
beauties  occafioned  uncommon  vigilance  and  iolicitude 
in  their  prefervation. 

At  a  very  late  period,  a  fubftance  formed  of  mace- 
rated linen,  was  found  fuperior  in  beauty,  convenience, 
and  duration,  and  better  adapted  to  the  purpofes  of 
literature,  than  all  the  prior  devices  of  mechanical  in- 
genuity. It  derived  its  name  from  the  flag  that  grew 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  which,  though  it  in  fome 
•degree  refembled,  it  greatly  excelled.  Porous,  yet  of 
iirm  contexture,  it  admitted  the  infcription  of  charac- 
ters with  a  facility,  equalled  only  by  the  Detention  with 
which  it  preferved  them.  By  the  eafe  with  which  it  is 
procured  and  infcribed,  it  refcued  the  antient  authors 
from  the  poffibiiity  of  oblivion,  and  may  ftrictly  be  faid 


No.  137.  MORAL,    &c.  215 

to  have  formed  that  monument  more  durable  than  brafs, 
which  a  celebrated  poet  prophefied  to  himfelf  with  a 
confidence,  juftified  at  length  by  the  accomplifliment 
of  his  prediction. 


No.  CXXXVII.  ON  THE  CIRCUMSTANCES 
WHICH  LED  TO  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE 
ART  OF  PRINTING,  WITH  MISCELLANEOUS 
REMARKS  ON  IT. 


THE  bufincfs  of  tranfcribing  the  remains  of  Grecian 
and  Roman  literature,  became  an  ufeful,  an  inno- 
cent, and  apleafing  employ  to  ma -..y  of  thofe  who,  in  the 
dark  ages,  would  elfe  have  pined  in  the  liftlefs  languor 
of  monatlic  retirement.  Exempt  from  the  avocations 
of  civil  life,  incapable  of  literary  exertion  from  the  want 
of  books  and  opportunities  of  improvement,  they  devoted 
the  frequent  intervals  of  religious  duty,  to  the  tranfcrip- 
tion  of  authors  whom  they  often  little  underftood.  The 
fervile  office  of  a  mere  copyirt  was  not  difdained  by  thofe 
who  knew  not  to  invent;  and  the  writers  in  the  fcripto- 
rium  were  infpired  with  an  emulation  to  excel,  in  the 
beauty  and  variety  of  their  illuminations,  the  fidelity  of 
their  copy,  and  the  multitude  of  their  performances. 

But  when  every  letter  of  every  copy  was  to  be  formed 
by  the  immediate  operation  of  the  hand,  the  moft  per- 
ievering  afllduity  could  effec"l  but  little.  They  appear 
not  to  have  been  written  with  the  rapidity  of  a  modern 
transcriber,  but  with  a  formal  itiffnefs,  or  a  ccrrecl  ele- 
gance, equally  inconfiftent  with  expedition.  They  were 
therefore  rare,  and  confequently  much  valued,  and  when- 
ever fold,  were  fold  at  a  great  price.  Few,  indeed,  but 
crowned  and  mitred  heads,  or  incorporated  communities, 
were  able  to  procure  a  number  fufficient  to  merit  the  ap- 
pellation of  a  Library  ;  and  even  the  boafted  libraries  of 
princes  and  prelates,  were  fuch,  as  are  now  eafily  ex- 
ceeded by  every  private  collection.  To  be  poor,  with 
whatever  ability  or  inclination,  was,  at  one  time,  an  in- 

furmoun  table 


•zi6  ESSAYS,  No.  137, 

.fiirmourktable  obftacle  to  literary  improvement:  and,  per- 
haps, we  indulge  an  unreafonable  acrimony  in  our gene- 
aral  cenfure  of  Monkifh  floth  and  ignorance,  net  confider- 
ing  that  an  involuntary  fault  ceafes  to  be  biameablej 
that  ignorance  is  necefiary  where  the  means  of  inform- 
ation are  fcarce  ;  and  that  floth  is  not  to  be  avoided, 
where  the  requifites  of  proper  employment  are  not  at- 
tainable without  great  expence,  or  earned  folicitation. 

It  was,  perhaps,  lefs  with  a  view  to  obviate  thefe  in- 
conveniencies,  than  from  theinterefled  motives  of  deriv- 
ing greater  gain  by  exacting  the  ufual  price  for  copies 
multiplied  with  more  eafe  and  expedition,  that  a  new 
,  mode  was  at  length  practifed,  derived  from  the  inven- 
tion of  the  Art  of  Printing;  a  difcovery  which,  of  all 
thofe  recorded  in  civil  hiftcry,  is  of  the  moil  important 
and  extenfive  confequence. 

That  the  firft  productions  of  the  prefs  were  intended 
to  pafs  for  manufcripts,  we  are  led  to  conclude  from  the 
refemblance  of  the  type  to  the  written  characters,  from 
the  omiflion  of  illuminations  which  were  to  be  fuppJied 
by  the  pen  to  facilitate  the  deception,  and  from  the  in- 
ventor's concealment  of  his  proceft,  fo  far  as  to  incur 
fufpicion  of  witchcraft  or  magic,  by  which  alone  ihe 
firft  obfervers  could  account  for  the  extraordinary  mul- 
tiplication of  the  tranfcripts  or  copies. 

But  the  deceit  was  foon  detected.  The  perfect  re- 
femblance in  the  fliape  of  the  letters,  in  the  place  raid 
number  of  the  words  on  every  page,  the  ilngular  ccr- 
redtnefs,  and,  above  all,  the  numerous  copies  of  the 
fame  author,  inevitably  led  to  a  difcovery  of  the  truth. 
To  conceal  it,  indeed,  was  no  longer  deilred,  when 
experience  had  fuggefted  the  great  lucrative  advantages, 
and  the  practicability  of  multiplying  books  without  end 
by  the  procefs  nevyly  invented.  It  foon  appeared, 
though  it  was  not  obvious  at  firft,  that  the  new  mode 
would  be  more  agreeable  to  the  reader,  as  well  as  caller 
to  the  copyift,  and  that  printed  books  would  univerfaliy 
fuperfede  the  ufe  of  manufcripts,  from  a  choice  founded 
on  judicious  preference..  The  art  was  foon  profefled 
as  a  trade,  and  the  bufinefs  of  copying,  which  had  once 
afforded  only  amufement  or  gain  to  the  curious  and 
the  idle,  became  the  ccnftant  employment  and  fupport 

of 


No.  157.  MORAL,    &c,  117 

of  a  numerous  tribe  of  artifans,  and  conftituted  a  very 
confiderable  fource  of  mercantile  advantage. 

Of  an  art,  which,  though  it  had  yet  acquired  but 
fmall  degrees  of  perfection,  appeared  of  moll  extenfive 
utility  in  religion,  in  politics,  in  literature,  and  even 
in  commerce,  no  labour  has  been  fpared  to  inveftigate 
the  hiftory;  but,  unfortunately,  the  enquirers  into  the 
origin  of  arts,  inftigated  by  the  zeal  of  minute  cu- 
riofity  to  pulh  their  refearches  too  far,  often  difcovef 
them  fo  rude,  obvious,  and  inartificial  at  their  com- 
mencement, as  to  refledl  very  little  honour  on  thofe 
whom  they  oftentatioufly  exhibit  as  the  earlieft  inven- 
tors. Such  has  been  the  refult  of  the  inveftigation* 
of  thofe  who,  difiatisfied  with  the  commonly  received 
opinions  on  the  date  of  the  invention  of  printing, 
pretend  to  have  difcovered  traces  of  it  many  years 
before  the  firit  production  of  Fauftus,  in  1457  ;  and  it  is 
true,  that  the  Speculum  Salutis,  and  a  few  other  books 
are  extant,  which  are,  on  good  reafons,  judged  to  have 
been  ftamped,  not  prin ted  fecundum  artem,  long  before 
the  erection  of  a  prefs  at  Mentz  :  but  the  mode  in  which 
they  were  executed,  like  the  Chinefe,  bears  but  little 
refemblance  to  the  art  of  printing,  properly  fo  called; 
it  appears  not,  by  any  hiftorical  memoir,  to  have  fug- 
gelled  the  firlt  hint  of  it,  and  is  too  imperfeft  to  deferve. 
notice  as  even  the  infant  itate  of  this  momentous 
invention. 

National  pride,  like  the  pride  of  individuals,  is  often 
founded  on  flight  or  dubious  pretenfions.  Thus  have 
Germany  and  Holland  contended,  with  all  the  warmth 
of  party,  for  the  imaginary  honour  of  giving  birth  to 
the  Inventor  of  Printing,  who,  after  all,  was  probably 
led  to  the  difcovery,  not  by  the  enlarged  views  of 
public  utility,  but  by  fortunate  circumftances  concur- 
ring with  the  defire  of  private  and  pecuniary  advantage; 
but  though  the  hiftory  of  Printing,  like  all  other  hifto- 
ries,  is  in  fome  degree  obfcure  and  doubtful  at  its  ear- 
lieft period,  though  Straiburg  has  boafted  of  Mentel, 
and  Harlaem  of  Coxier,  as  the  inventor;  yet  is  there  great 
reafon  to  conclude,  that  the  few  arguments  advanced 
in  their  favour  are  fupported  only  by  forgery  and  falfe- 
hood  :  and  we  may  fafely  aflert,  with  the  majority  of 

VOL.  IX.  1,  writer*, 


2i8  ESS     A    Y     S,  No.  137. 

writers',  and  with  the  general  voice  of  Europe,  that  the 
time  of  the  invention  was  about  the  year  1440;  the 
place  Mentz,  and  the  perfons  Gutenberg,  Fauftus,  and 
Schaeffer,  in  conjunction. 

He  who  wiflies  to  trace  the  art  in  its  gradual  progrefs, 
from  the  wooden  and  immoveable  letter  to  the  move- 
able  and  metal  type,  and  to  the  completion  of  the 
whole  contrivance,  will  receive  fatisfaftory  information 
from  the  annals  of  the  elaborate  Mattaire  In  the 
mean  time,  the  eflayift  will  avoid  the  repetition  of  fads 
already  too  well  known  and  eftablimed  to  admit  addi- 
tional illuftration,  and  will  think  himfelf  more  properly 
employed  in  making  reflections  on  the  literary,  the 
moral,  the  political,  and  the  religious  effects  which, 
have  refulted  from  the  invention. 

It  is,  indeed,  generally  true,  that  the  hiftory  of  a 
mechanical  art  affords  but  infipid  entertainment  to  a 
mind  which  is  tinctured  with  the  liberality  of  philofophy, 
and  the  elegance  of  claffical  literature.  It  often  exhibits 
manual  excellence  united  with  fuch  meannefs  of  fenti- 
ment,  and  vulgarity  of  manners,  as  unavoidably  mingles 
difguft  with  admiration  :  but  to  the  truth  of  this  gene- 
ral remark,  the  annals  of  typography  are  a  fingular 
exception.  Many  are  recorded  to  have  laboured  at  the 
prefs,  whofe  literary  attainments  would  have  done  ho- 
nour to  the  chair  of  a  profeflbr.  By  their  annotations, 
they  ill uftrated  the  fenfe  and  fpirit  of  thofe  authors,  the 
letter  of  whofe  writings  they  embellifhed  by  the  moft 
beautiful  and  accurate  impreflions. 

The  names  of  the  Aldi,  of  Robert  and  Henry  Ste- 
phans,  of  Turnebus,  and  of  many  more  who  united 
mechanical  ingenuity  with  profound  erudition,  will 
ever  be  remembered  with  refpedl  and  gratitude  by 
the  votary  of  antient  learning.  Happily  for  letters,  at 
a  time  when  the  valuable  works  of  antiquity  were  con- 
tained in  manufcripts,  fometimes  illegibly  written,  and 
often  mutilated  or  corrupted,  a  number  of  men  arofe 
whofe  knowledge  and  fagacity  enabled  them  to  ascertain 
and  exhibit,  by  the  newly  difcovered  art,  the  genuine 
reading.  Such  men  were  greater  benefactors  to  man- 
kind, than  many  who  have  been  more  celebrated  ;  nor 
is  it  an  ill-grounded  glory  which  Italy  derives  from 

her 


No.  137.  MORAL,      &c.  219 

her  Manutii,  Germany  from  her  Froben,  France  from 
her  Stephani,  the  Netherlands  from  their  Plantin,  and 
England  from  her  Caxton. 

Every  lover  of  accurate  editions  looks  back  with  re- 
gret on  thofe  times  when  an  Erafmus  corrected  what 
an  Aldus  printed;  when,  like  the  painter  of  antiquity, 
a  printer  expofed  his  production  to  the  paflenger,  and 
folicited  cenfure ;  and  when  the  legiflature  of  a  great 
nation  provided  by  a  ftatute,  with  a  penalty,  for  the 
correctnefs  of  publications. 

To  prefer,  with  implicit  attachment,  all  the  earlier 
productions  of  the  art  to  the  more  recent,  were  to  be 
actuated  with  the  narrow  fpirit  of  a  typographical 
virtuofo  ;  yet  the  truth  is,  what  indeed  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  the  fuperior  learning  of  thofe  who  were 
formerly  concerned  in  the  procefs,  they  furpafs  the 
more  fplendid  editions  of  later  times,  in  the  one  great 
excellence  of  correctnefs.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the 
fungous  production  of  the  modern  writer,  appears  with 
a  fplendour  of  paper,  and  brilliancy  of  type,  unknown 
in  the  fifteenth  century  :  and,  if  the  work  is  written  in 
the  vernacular  language,  and  on  a  familiar  fubject,  is 
perhaps  fufficiently  correct.  It  is  true,  likewife,  that 
confidering  the  expedition  of  the  artifan,  the  degree  of 
correctnefs  with  which  the  common  papers  of  intelli- 
gence appear,  is  really  wonderful,  and  affords  a 
rtriking  inflance  how  much  induftry  can  effect,  when 
Simulated  to  exertion  by  the  hope  of  that  abundant 
gain,  which  our  more  than  Athenian  love  of  political 
information  conitantly  fupplies.  Of  fuch  difpatch,  a 
Plantin  would,  perhaps,  have  denied  the  poifibility. 
Rut  books  of  learning,  efpecially  when  written  in  the 
dead  languages,  are  more  flowly  brought  forth,  and 
by  no  means  with  equal  perfection.  The  miftaken  ava- 
rice, and  the  grofs  ignorance,  of  fome  modern  typo- 
graphers, often  frultrate  all  the  pail  labour  of  correctors 
and  commentators,  who  have  toiled  with  aching  eyes  in 
the  revifai  of  proof  Iheets,  and  in  the  collation  of  ma- 
nufcripts. 


NO,  cxxxvm. 


220  ESSAYS,  No.  138. 


NO.  CXXXVIII.  ON  THE  MORAL,  POLITI- 
CAL, AND  RELIGIOUS  EFFECTS  OF  PRINT- 
ING, WITH  CONCLUDING  REMARKS. 

BY  one  of  thofe  laudable  artifices  which  prevent  pri- 
vate avarice  from  withholding  public  benefits,  the 
art  of  printing  was  ftolen  from  Harlaem,  and  brought  to 
Oxford  by  Frederic  Corfellis.  But  while  we  are  confi- 
dering  the  introduction  of  printing  into  England,  not  to 
commemorate  the  names  of  Bouchier,  Tumour,  and 
Caxton,  who  were  molt  inftrumental  to  it,  would  be 
an  omiffion  equally  negligent  and  ungrateful.  "Nor 
Ihould  the  tribute  of  praife  be  any  longer  withheld  by 
negleft  from  earl  Tiptoft  and  earl  Rivers,  who,  at  this 
period,  were  reftorers  and  patrons  of  learning  in  our 
own  country,  and  who  contributed  to  its  advancement, 
in  imitation  of  their  contemporary,  Pius  the  fecond  in 
Italy,  both  by  their  munificence  and  example. 

The  literary  advantages  derived  from  the  invention 
are  fo  obvious,  that  to  point  them  out  with  all  the  for- 
mality of  difquifition  is  unneceflary. 

But  the  moralift,  no  lefs  than  the  man  of  letters, 
finds  himfelf  interefted  in  the  confequences  refulting 
from  the  mechanical  mode  of  multiplying  the  copies  of 
books.  To  this  caufe,  he  attributes  that  change  in  the 
manners  and  fentiments  which  has  taken  place  within 
the  interval  of  a  century  or  two,  and  which  cannot 
efcape  even  fuperficial  obfervation.  Philofophy,  once 
preferved  among  a  chofen  few,  with  the  felfiihnefs  of 
an  Alexander,  who  reprimanded  Ariftotle  for  divulging 
the  fecrets  of  fcience,  has  now  diffufed  its  influence  on 
the  mean  as  well  as  the  great,  the  gay  and  the  fair  as 
xvell  as  the  fevere  and  iludious,  the  merchant  and  the 
manufa&urer  as  well  as  the  contemplative  profefibr. 
Pamphlets  and  manuals,  on  every  fubjed  of  human  en- 
quiry,  are  circulated  by  the  affiduous  trader  at  a  fmall 
price,  among  the  lowefl  ranks  of  the  community,  the 
sreateft  part  of  whom  have  been  furnifhed  with  the 
ability  of  reading  by  an  eJeemofynary  education.  A 

tinfture 


No.  138.  MORAL,    &<:.  221 

tin&ure  of  letters,  which  was  once  rare,  and  formed  a 
ihining  character,  has  pervaded  the  mafs  of  the  people, 
p.nd  in  a  free  country  like  our  own,  where  it  is  not 
checked  in  its  operation  by  political  reftraints,  has  pro- 
duced remarkable  effefts  on  the  general  fyftem  of  mora- 
lity. Much  good  has  Fefulted  from  it :  happy,  if  it 
had  not  been  mixed  with  that  chara&eriftic  alloy  of 
human  happinefs,  much  evil.  Learning,  thus  commu- 
nicated to  the  vulgar,  has  taught  the  favage  ferocity  of 
grofs  ignorance  to  yield  to  gentlenefs  and  humanity , 
but  it  has  alfo  fuperinduced  a  general  indolence,  refine- 
ment, and  falfe  delicacy.  Jt  has  been  the  means  of 
exhibiting,  to  the  beft  advantage,  the  image  of  virtue 
in  her  natural  beauty;  but  it  has  alfo  held  up  to  view 
the  meretricious  charms  of  vice  in  the  falfe  ornaments 
fuperadded  by  a  corrupt  imagination.  It  has  been  a 
Heady  light  to  lighten  men  in  the  path  of  truth;  but 
it  has  alfo  been  an  ignis  fatuus  leading  them  into  the 
mazes  of  error,  and  plunging  them  at  laft  into  the 
depths  of  mifery.  If  it  has  often  tempted  us  to  boaft  of 
living  in  an  enlightened  age,  it  has  no  lefs  frequently 
induced  us  to  regret  the  old  times  of  ignorant,  but 
innocent  limplicity.  If  we  fometimes  look  back  with 
a  mixture  of  fcorn  and  pity  on  the  unlettered  ages  that 
preceded  us ;  we  alfo  fometimes  confefs  ourfelves  ready 
to  renounce  the  pride  of  fuperior  knowledge  for  the 
folid  happinefs  of  that  national  probity,  which,  though, 
it  may  not  have  receded,  has  not  kept  pace  with  our 
progrefs  in  fcientific  improvement.  Here,  however,  the 
old  maxim  will  be  fuggefted  to  every  one,  that  a  good 
argument  againft  the  ufe  of  a  thing,  cannot  be  drawn 
from  its  abufe.  It  will  at  the  fame  time  be  remem- 
bered, that  the  prefent  times  are  ever  feen  through  the 
fallacious  mediums  of  prejudice  and  pafiion  ;  and  that 
the  cenfures  of  the  fatiriit  may  not  arife  from  real 
degeneracy,  but  that  common  propenfity  which  has, 
in  all  ages,  given  rife  toinveclives  againft  the  prevailing 
manners.  If  it  is  true,  that  improvement  in  knowledge 
is  a  natural  and  laudable  objeft  of  human  defires,  the 
more  general  that  improvement,  the  happier  and  more 
perfeft  is  human  nature,  and  the  more  eitimable  that 
art  from  which  it  is  principally  derived. 

L  3  But 


222  E    S    S    A    Y    S,  No.  138. 

But  however  equivocal  the  effects  of  the  univerfal 
diflemination  of  literature  on  the  morals  of  thofe  who 
cannot  judge  and  felect  with  the  fame  eafe  with  which 
they  can  procure  books,  there  is  no  doubt  of  their 
being  beneficial  among  others,  whofe  judgment  is  di- 
rected by  liberal  culture,  and  whofe  fentiments  are 
undepraved  by  fafhionable  diflipation.  Before  the  in- 
troduction of  printing,  the  ftudent,  who  revoked  at 
the  idea  of  languifhing  in  the  floth  of  Monkery,  had 
fcarcely  any  fcope  for  his  induftry  and  talents,  but 
in  the  puerile  perplexities  of  a  fcholaftic  philofophy,  as 
little  adapted  to  call  forth  the  virtues  of  the  heart,  as 
to  promote  valuable  knowledge:  but  fince  that  im- 
portant sera,  in  the  annals  of  learning,  every  individual, 
even  the  pooreft  of  the  Mufes'  train,  has  been  enabled 
to  obtain,  without  difficulty,  the  works  of  thofe  great 
matters  in  practical  and  fpeculative  ethics,  the  Greek 
and  Roman  philofophers.  He  is  taught  by  the  fame 
inilructcrs  who  formed  a  Xenophon  and  a  Scipio,  and 
can  hold  converfe,  in  the  retirements  of  his  chamber, 
with  the  celebrated  fages  of  antiquity,  with  nearly  the 
fame  advantages  as  if  he  actually  fat  with  Socrates  beneath 
the  {hade  of  the  plane-tree,  walked  with  Plato  in 
the  Lyceum,  or  accompanied  Cicero  to  his  Tufculan 
villa. 

Whatever  tends  to  difFufe  new  light  on  the  under- 
ftandings  of  a  whole  people,  or  to  effect  a  change  in 
the  general  fyftem  of  manners,  foon  pruduces  a  iimilar 
revolution  in  their  political  character.  Airy  fabrics, 
which,  when  feen  through  the  rnifts  of  ignorance,  were 
fuppofed  to  be  realities,  vanifhed  at  the  light  of  learning, 
as  the  inchantrnent  is  diflblved  by  the  operation  of  the 
Talifman.  The  fun  of  fcience  arofe,  the  profpect 
cleared  around,  and  they  who  had  muddered  at  the 
ideal  phantoms  of  the  night,  ventured  to  walk  forth 
and  examine  every  object  that  folicited  attention.  The 
prejudices  on  the  fubject  of  civil  government,  formed 
by  ignorance  and  foftered  by  the  policy  of  power,  when 
once  the  art  of  printing  had  multiplied  books,  and 
roufed  the  fpirit  of  enquiry,  foon  gave  way  to  the 
dictates  of  inftructed  reafon.  The  natural  rights  of 
mankind  became  well  underftood,  the  law  of  nations 

was 


No,  138.  MORAL,    &c.  ?23 

was  attended  to,  implicit  obedience  was  neither  ex- 
a&ed  on  the  one  part  with  the  fame  rigour  as  before, 
nor  paid  on  the  other  with  equal  fervility.  What  re- 
mained of  the  feudal  inftitutions  could  not  long  fabfift, 
when  more  liberal  ideas  of  the  nearer  equality  of  man- 
kind were  imbibed  from  books,  and  when  a  great 
degree  of  dignity  and  power  was  attainable,  not  only 
by  birth  and  riches,  but  by  mere  literary  eminence. 
The  diftinclion  of  VafTal  and  Lord  foon  ceafed  to  be 
the  only  one  in  the  community,  when  mea  were  led  by 
the  eafe  with  which  books  were  procured,  to  afpire 
after  the  fine  arts,  philofophy,  and  erudition.  Such 
ftudies  infufed  a  noble  generofity  of  fpirit,  which  fcorn- 
ed  to  pay  an  abject  homage  to  ignorant  opulence.  Ig- 
norant opulence,  indeed,  could  not  maintain,  or  even 
exact  by  force,  that  truly  valuable  refped  which  is 
naturally  due,  and  cheerfully  paid,  to  perfonal  dignity. 
Men,  by  reading,  were  led  to  reflect,  and  by  reflection 
difcovered,  that  they  had  been  under  an  error  when 
they  looked  up  to  their  governors  as  to  a  fuperior  Order 
of  Beings ;  but  at  the  fame  time  they  learned  the  hap- 
pinefs  of  living  under  a  well-regulated  conftitution, 
the  duty  of  obedience  in  return  for  protection,  and  the' 
political  neceffity  of  fubordination.  Hiitory,  and  trea- 
tifes  of  politics,  fuggefted  juft  notions  of  civil  fociety, 
and  a  fenfe  of  expediency  produced  at  length  that  vo- 
luntary acquiefcence  which  was  once  exacted  by  pre- 
tenfions  to  divine  right,  or  by  the  immediate  interpo- 
fition  of  authority.  The  luft  of  dominion  which  dif- 
graced  the  iron  reign  of  the  fullen  and  unlettered  tyrant,, 
was  fucceeded,  in  the  enlightened  father  of  his  people, 
by  a  fpirit  of  benevolence  and  philofophical  moderation. 
That  power,  which  was  once  placed  on  the  fandy  foun- 
dation of  popular  prejudice  and  fear,  when  thofe  fears 
and  prejudices  were  diffipated  by  free  difquifition, 
acquired  an  eftablifhment  on  the  bafis  of  reafon. 
Nor  let  it  be  deemed  idle  fpeculation  to  attribute  thefe 
falutary  confequences  to  the  invention  of  printing,  fince 
to  him  who  attentively  confiders  all  its  remote  as  well 
as  proximate  effects,  it  will  appear  fully  adequate  to  their 
production.  When  all  ranks  of  people  on  a  fudden 
were  enabled  to  exert  with  vigour  the  faculty  of  accurate 
L-4.  and 


«4  ESSAYS,  N(h  13$. 

and  comprehensive  thought,  which  had  only  Iain  dor- 
mant for  want  of  opportunity,  the  effect  on  the  moral 
and  political  world  muft  be  as  firiking,  as  that  which 
takes  place  in  the  phyfical,  at  the  return  of  day  after 
night,  and  fpring  after  winter. 

Thus  has  Fauitus  and  Mentz,  by  an  art  invented 
and  exercifed  with  views  of  private  emolument,  ulti- 
mately contributed  more  to  the  empires,  and  caufed 
more  important  events  in  their  hiftory,  than  all  the 
efforts  of  the  renowned  conquerors  and  lawgivers  of 
antiquity.  That  the  fame  art  which  has  produced  thefe 
falutary  confequences,  has  alfo  been  the  means  of  en- 
couraging licentioufnefs,  of  animating  fedition,  and 
kindling  the  flames  of  civil  war,  is  to  be  attributed  to 
that  lamentable  condition  of  human  affairs  which  is  ob- 
ferved  to  counterbalance  every  good,  with  a  proportion 
of  concomitant  evil. 

To  the  Art  of  Printing,  however,  it  is  acknowledged, 
we  owe  the  reformation.  It  has  been  jultly  remarked, 
that  if  the  books  of  Luther  had  been  multiplied  only 
by  the  flow  procefsof  the  hand-writing,  they  muft  have 
been  few,  and  would  have  been  eafily  fuppreiTed  by  the 
combination  of  wealth  and  power:  but,  poured  forth 
in  abundance  from  the  prefs,  they  fpread  over  the 
Jand  with  the  rapidity  of  an  inundation,  which  acquires 
additional  force  from  the  efforts  ufed  to  obftrucl  its 
progrefs.  He  who  undertook  to  prevent  the  difperfion 
of  the  books  once  iffued  from  the  prefs,  attempted  atafk 
no  lefs  arduous  than  the  deftruclion  of  the  Hydra.  Re- 
Jiftance  was  vain,  and  religion  was  reformed:  and  we 
who  are  chiefly  interefted  in  this  happy  revolution 
muft  remember,  amidft  the  praifes  bellowed  on  Luther, 
that  his  endeavours  had  been  ineffectual,  unaffifted  by 
the  invention  of  Fauftus. 

How  greatly  the  caufe  of  religion  has  been  promoted 
by  the  art,  muft  appear  when  it  is  confidered,  that  it 
has  placed  thofe  facred  books  in  the  hand  of  every 
individual,  which,  befides  that  they  were  once  locked 
up  in  a  dead  language,  could  not  be  procured  without 
great  difficulty.  The  numerous  comments  on  them  of 
every  kind,  which  tend  to  promote  piety,  and  to  form 
the  Chriflian  philofopher,  would  probably  never  have 

been 


No.  ij8.  M  O   R   A  L,    &c.  22; 

been  compofed,  and  certainly  would  not  have  extend- 
ed their  beneficial  influence,  if  typography  had  (till 
beeo  unknown.  By  that  art,  the  light,  which  is  tr» 
illuminate  a  dark  world,  hns  been  placed  in  a  fituatiou 
more  advantageous  to  the  emiflion  of  its  rays  :  buc 
if  it  has  been  the  means  of  illuftrating  the  doclrines, 
and  inforcing  the  praftice  of  religion,  it  has  alib,  par- 
ticularly in  the  prefent  age,  flruek  at  the  root  of 
piety  and  moral  virtue,  by  propagating  opinions  favour- 
able to  the  fceptic  and  the  voluptuary.  It  has  enabled 
modern  authors  wantonly  to  gratify  their  avarice,  their 
vanity,  and  their  mifanthropy,  in  difleminating  novel 
fyilems  fubverfive  of  the  dignity  and  happinefs  of  hu- 
man nature  :  but  though  the  perverfion  of  the  art  is  la- 
mentably remarkable  in  thofe  volumes  which  ifTue,  with 
ofFenfive  profufion,  from  the  vain,  the  wicked,  and  the 
hungry,  yet  this  good  refults  from  the  evil,  that  as  truth 
is  great  and  will  prevail,  me  mult  derive  frefli  luitre,  by 
difplaying  the  fuperiority  of  her  itrength  in  the  conflict 
with  fophiftry. 

Thus  the  Art  of  Printing,  in  whatever  light  it  is 
viewed,  has  deferved  refpeft  and  attention.  From  the 
ingenuity  of  the  contrivance,  it  has  ever  excited  mecha- 
nical curiofity  ;  from  its  intimate  connection  with  learn- 
ing, it  has  juftly  claimed  hiflorical  notice  ;  and  from 
its  extenfive  influence  on  morality,  politics,  and*  re- 
ligion, it  is  now  become  a  fubjeft  of  very  important 
fpcculation. 

But  however  we  may  felicitate  mankind  on  the  in- 
vention, there  are  perhaps  thofe  who  wifh,  that, 
together  with  its  compatriot  art  of  manufacturing  gun- 
powder, it  had  not  yet  been  brought  to  -light.  Of  its 
effects  on  literature,  they  aflert,  that- ft -has  increafed 
the  number  of  books,  till  they  diltradl,  rather  than 
improve  the  mind  ;  and  of  its  malignant  influence  on 
morals,  they  complain,  that  it  has  often  introduced  a  falfs 
refinement,  incompatible  wuh  the  fimplicity  of  primitive 
piety  and  genuine  virtue.  With  refpeft  to  its  literary 
ill  confeqnence,  it  may  be  faiu,  tliat  though  it  produces 
jo  the  world  an  infinite  number  of  worth lefs  publica- 
tions, yet  true  wit  and  fine  compofitlon  will  Hill  retiin 
their  value,  ami  ii  will  be  an  cafy  tafk  for  critical  dif. 
L  5  cerniiie.it 


226  ESSAY    S,  No.  138. 

cernment  to  feleft  thefe  from  the  (unrounding  mafs  of 
abfurdity:  and  though,  with  refpect  to  its  moral  effects, 
a  regard  to  truth  extorts  the  confeflion,  that  it  has 
diffufed  immorality  and  irreligion,  divulged  with  cruel 
impertinence  the  iecrets  of  private  life,  and  fpread  the 
tale  of  fcandal  through  an  empire  ;  yet  thefe  are  evils 
which  will  either  fhrink  away  unobferved  in  the 
triumphs  of  time  and  truth  over  falfehood,  or,  which 
may,  at  any  time,  be  fuppreffed  by  legiflative  inter- 
pofition. 

The  Liberty  of  the  Prefs  is  a  fubjecl  not  to  be  touched 
upon,  but  with  a  trembling  caution.  Every  ftudent  muft 
abhor  the  thought  of  erecting  the  tribunal  of  a  ftar- 
chamber  in  the  republic  of  letters ;  every  lover  of  his 
country  muft  reject  with  difdain  the  propofal  of 
iilencing  the  voice  of  truth  by  the  menace  of  authority  : 
but,  at  the  fame  time,  every  true  friend  to  learning 
and  mankind,  who,  free  from  the  enthufiafm  of  party, 
underftands  their  real  intereft,  would  rejoice  to  fee 
the  day  when  the  advantages  of  the  Liberty  of  the 
Prefs  mall  be  unalloyed  with  thofe  evils  of  its  licenti- 
oufnefs ;  which,  without  fome  expedient  of  controul, 
will  prevail,  as  long  as  there  are,  on  one  hand,  indi- 
gent and  avaricious  publifliers,  and  on  the  other,  factious 
and  unprincipled  readers. 

But  innovations  in  a  particular  intimately  connected 
with  civil  liberty,  will  ever  be  guarded  againft  in  a 
free  country,  with  all  the  .vigilance  of  jealous  circum- 
fpection.  Men  will  often  patiently  fupport  the  prefent 
evil,  the  nature  and  extent  of  which  is  afcertained  by 
experience,  rather  than  incur  the  hazard  of  a  future 
detriment,  which  may  poffibly  outweigh  the  beneficial 
ends  propofed»  If  then  the  unreftrained  ufe  of  the 
Prefs  is,  as  it  has  been  commonly  termed,  the  Pal- 
ladium of  liberty,  may  it  never  be  taken  from  us  by 
fraud  or  force  ;  and  perhaps  the  evils  refulting  from 
the  abufe  of  this  privilege  are  of  that  kind,  which,, 
when  permitted  to  take  their  courfe,  ultimately  remedy 
themfelves:  for  it  is  certain,  that  there  may  be  a 
period,  and  perhaps  our  own  times  approach  to  it,  when 
the  petulant  licentioufnefs  of  public  prints  and  pam- 
phlets becomes  too  contemptible  to  gain  attention,  and 

therefore 


No,  139.  MORA  L,     Sic.  227 

therefore  fails  of  producing  a  malignant  effeft.  Avarice 
will  ceafe  to  publilh,  when  men  are  too  wife  to  pur- 
chafe  ;  faftion  and  vanity  will  be  iilent,  when  they  no- 
longer  find  an  audience  :  but  penal  and  coercive  mea- 
fures  are  known  to  give  weight  to  the  nonfenfe  of  fedi- 
tion  and  impiety,  by  alarming  that  attention  which  it 
could  not  other  wife  excite,  and  to  occafion  the  evils  in- 
tendea  to  be  obviated  ;  as  the  means  ufed  to  extinguiih, 
a  flame  fometimes  increafe  its  violence. 

But  referring  the  difcuflion  of  this  complicated  fub-- 
jecl  to  legiflative  wifdom,  we  may  venture  to  exprefs  an 
honeft  wiih  without  danger  of  preemption  ;  and  furely 
all  the  good  and  enlightened  part  of  mankind  will  fym- 
pathize  in  the  derire,  That  the  time  may  not  be  diftant, 
when  the  qualities  of  the  heart  (hall  be  cultivated  with 
the  fame  general  ardour  as  the  powers  of  the  underfland- 
ing  ;  when  the  affectation  of  finguiarity,  and  the  love 
of  money,  fhall  no  longer  multiply  treatiies  tending  to 
teach  the  people  a  falfe  philofophy,  an  erroneous  belief, 
or  a  faclious  conduct  ;  when  the  Art  of  Printing  fhall  no 
more  be  perverted  to  embellifh  vice  and  juflify  folly, 
but  operating  in  the  accomplishment  of  its  proper  purpo- 
fes,  at  once  promote  the  intereft,  which  cannot  indeed 
without  natural  violence  be  feparate,  of  found  learning 
and  unaffeited  virtue. 


No.    CXXXIX..        CURSORY    THOUGHTS     ON, 
SATIRE    AND    SATIRISTS.. 


THE  good  reception  which  that  fpecies  of  poetry, 
called  Satire,  has  commonly  met  with  in  the 
world,  is  perhaps  owing  to-  fome  difpofitions  in  the 
human  nature  not  the  moft  amiable.  It  derives  noc 
its  power  of  pleafing,  like  other  poetry,  from  its  effefts 
on  che  imagination.  It  raifes  no  enchanting  profpefts  ; 
it  is  not  necefTarily  employed  in  fidion.  A  fpirit  of 
indignation  is  its  efiential  principle,  and  by  caufing  a 
ijmilar  fpirit  in  the  reader,  it  gently  gratines  the  irafci- 
bk  paflions, 

L  6  Ik 


223  ESSAYS,  No.  139. 

It  mufl  be  owned,  that  it  has  feldom  anfwered  its 
oftenfible  end  of  reforming  the  age.  Yet  allowing  it  to 
be  of  little  ufe  in  reformation,  it  is  often  compofed  with 
fach  evident  marks  of  genius  as  render  it  interefting  to 
men  of  tafte.  And  though  fpleen  may  have  given  rife  to 
its  firft  production,  and  the  love  of  cenfure  enfured  its 
/uccefs,  yet  the  beauties  of  the  compofition  will  caufe  it 
to  be  read,  even  by  thofe  who  difapprove  perfonal  in- 
vedive,  long  after  the  refentment  that  occafioned  it  has 
fubfided. 

Horace,  the  politeft  writer  whom  the  world  ever 
produced,  adopted  fatirical  writing,  and  fncceeded  in 
it,  tho»gh  there  is  every  reafon  to  believe  that  hrs 
natural  difpofition  xvas  not  fevere.  The  truth  is,  he  was 
a  man  of  the  world,  as  well  as  a  man  of  reflection,  and 
wrote  his  remarks  on  men  and  things  in  carelefs  verfe ; 
not  without  cenfuring  them  indeed,  but  without  indulg- 
ing the  afperily  of  farcafm.  He  probed  every  wound 
with  fo  gentle  a  hand,  that  the  patient  fmiled  under  the 
operation.  The  gay  friend  of  Maecenas  had  lived  in 
courts,  and  knew  too  much  of  the  world  to  think  he 
could  reform  the  gay  and  voluptuous  part  of  it  by  abrupt 
leverity. 

Not  fo  the  ftern  Juvenal.  With  all  the  warmth  of 
a  zealot  in  the  caufe  of  virtue,  he  pours  his  majeftic 
verfe,  and,  amid  the  moft  fpirited  inveftive  and  the  fine  It 
morality,  emits  many  a  luminous  irradiation  of  poetry 
beautifully  defcriptive. 

His  predeceflbr  Perfius  had  afforded  him  a  noble 
model.  He  improved  on  it  in  nothing  but  perfpicuity. 
Perfius  is  all  fire,  fpirit,  animation.  The  frequency  of 
his  interrogations  roufes  the  attention  of  the  reader, 
and  it  is  not  eafy  to  read  and  undcrftand  him  without 
catching  the  glow  with  which  he  evidently  wrote.  If  his 
obfcurity  arofe  from  fear,  it  does  not  indeed  depreciate 
his  merit  as  a  writer;  but  it  has  caufed  him  to  be  lefs 
read  and  admired  than  he  deferves.  The  laft  lines  of 
his  fecond  fatire  are  alone  fufficient  to  entitle  him  to 
immortality. 

The  Englifh  feem  to  have  copied  the  manner  of 
Juvenal  rather  than  of  Horace.  Our  national  fpirit  is 
indeed  cf  the  manly  and  rougher  kind,  and  feels  fome- 

thing 


No.  139.  MORAL,     &c.  229 

thing  congenial  with  itfelf  in  the  vehemence  of  the  in- 
dignant Juvenal. 

The  Roman  is  remarkably  harmonious.  But  Donne, 
his  imitator,  feems  to  have  thought  roughnefs  of  verfe, 
as  well  as  of  fentiment,  a  real  grace.  It  is  fcarcely  pof- 
fible,  that  a  writer  who  did  not  ftudioufly  avoid  a  fmoorh 
verification,  could  have  written  fo  many  lines  without 
Humbling  on  a  good  one.  Pope  has  revived  his  fame 
by  atcuning  his  harfh  numbers ;  a  work  whofe  very 
excellence  makes  us  regret  that  a  genius  fo  fertile  as  was 
the  bard's  of  Twickenham,  mould  have  wafted  its  vi- 
gour in  paraphrafes  and  tranflntions. 

This  verfatile  poet  has  imbibed  the  very  fpirit  of  Ho- 
race. Nor  can  the  mere  Englifh  reader  obtain,  by  tile 
tranflations  of  Creech  or  of  Francis,  fo  clear  and  ade- 
quate an  idea  of  the  true  Horatian  manner,  as  from  the 
liberal  imitations  of  Pope. 

Dryden  fcems  to  have  preferred  the  model  of  his 
favourite  Juvenal.  His  nervous  line  was  well  adapted 
to  fatirical  compofition.  He  fays  himfelf,  "  he  couTd 
"  write  feverely,  with  more  eafe  than  he  could  wrice 
"  gently."  His  Abfalom  and  Achitophel,  and  his  Mac 
Flecknoe,  are  mailer-pieces  and  models  in  the  ferious 
and  vehement  kind  of  fatire. 

Boiieau  feems  to  have  blended  with  judgment  the 
manner  of  Horace  and  Juvenal.  Yet  whatever  degree 
of  elegance  he  poflHTes,  the  natural  monotony  of  French 
verfe  tires  an  ear  accnftomed  to  the  various  harmony  of 
our  Englifli  poets.  The  French  language  never  ap- 
pears fo  mean  as  in  the  heroic  couplet.  He  who  reads 
the  Henriade,  and  at  the  fame  time  thinks  of  Milton, 
Dryden,  Garth,  or  Pope,  .muft  clofe  the  volume  with 
all  the  loathing  of  difguft.  He  who  reads  Boileau,  will 
find  his  improving  imitator  Pope  rife  in  his  opinion. 
Pope  roufes  the  attention  by  all  the  changes  of  mufical 
modulation  ;  Boileau  fooths  it  to  dull  repofe  by  the 
lullaby  of  fimilar  paufes  uniformly  repeated. 

A  poet  of  our  own,  little  attended  to  at  prefent, 
once  enjoyed  a  very  high  degree  of  fame  as  a  fatirical 
writer.  Oldham  has  been  called  the  Englifh  Juvenal. 
His  fatire  on  the  Jefuits  has  indeed  much  of  the  fpirit 
of  Juvenal.  It  difplays  wit,  force,  pungency,  and  a 

very 


.230  ESSAYS,  No.  139. 

very  copious  invention  ;  but  it  is  no  lefs  diftingui/hed  by 
a  vulgarity  which  muft  prevent  Oldham  from  keeping 
his  place  among  the  claflics  of  our  country.  He  has 
lafhed  the  Jefuits  with  deferved  and  unrelenting  rigour; 
but  though  fevere  punifhment  is  often  necefTary,  yet  to 
fee  it  inflidtcd  with  the  wanton  cruelty  of  an  aflaflin,  is 
not  agreeable  There  are  fome  works  of  poetry  as  well 
as  of  painting,  which,  though  well  performed  as  pieces 
of  art,  lofe  the  praife  their  excellence  demands,  by  the 
Clocking  nature  of  their  reprefentations. 

A  later  fatirift,  Dr.  Young,  is  ftill  read  with  plea- 
fure.  But  he  has  the  fault  of  Seneca,  of  Ovid,  of 
Cowley;  a  profufe  and  unfeafonable  application  of 
wit.  His  fatires  have  been  jufily  called  a  firing  of 
epigrams.  A  lover  of  originality,  he  did  not  regard 
models.  Had  he  endeavoured  to  imitate  Juvenal  or 
Perfius,  he  would  have  avoided  this  fault.  Thofe  great 
matters  were  too  much  engrofTed  by  the  importance  of 
their  fubjefts  to  fall  into  the  puerility  of  witticifm. 
There  is  alfo  fomething  in  Young's  verification  which 
a  good  ear  does  not  approve. 

But  even  Young,  popular  as  he  was,  has  been 
eclipfed  by  a  poet  who  has  (hone  with  the  effulgence 
and  the  in  liability  of  a  meteor.  Churchill  pofTefled  merit; 
a  merit  which  was  magnified  when  fecn  through  the  me- 
dium of  party,  beyond  that  degree  which  it  was  able  to 
fupport.  When  reafon  at  Jail  viewed  what  paflion  had 
exaggerated,  fhe  was  diiguftecl  with  the  difappointmeut, 
and  turned  away  with  negleft.  Thus  the  celebrated 
Churchill,  with  whofe  applaufe  the  town  re-echoed,  is 
finking  to  an  oblivion  which  he  hardly  deferves  ;  for 
though  he  wrote  many  carelefs  lines  and  many  dull 
paflages,  yet  the  greater  part  of  his  productions  difplayed 
a  genuine  vein  of  fatirical  genius. 

Within  a  few  years  Satire  has  re-affumed  her  original 
rude  form  of  fcurrilous  and  petulant  abufe.  An  im- 
proved verification  has  given  a  glofs  to  illiberal,  calum- 
nious, and  anonymous  invecYives.  An  undaunted  ef- 
frontery, recommended  by  elegant  verfe,  has  fupplied 
the  want  of  every  claffical  and  noble  ornament.  That 
it  has  been  well  received,  is  no  proof  of  its  folid  ex- 
cellence as  compofition,  fmce,  to  the  greater  part  of 

readers, 


No.  140.  M  O  R  A  L,    &c.  231 

readers,  the  abufe  which  it  lavifhly  pours  on  public  and 
private  characters,  is  a  fufficient  recommendation. 

It  differs  from  claflical  fatire  in  this,  as  well  as  other 
circumftances.  Horace,  Perfius,  Juvenal,  though  fome- 
times  difgraced  by  obfcenity,  yet  abound  with  fine 
moral  fentiments.  They  not  only  put  vice  to  fhame, 
but  countenanced  virtue,  and  pointed  out  the  way 
to  attain  to  it.  But  the  fatirifts  of  our  times  feem 
to  have  little  elfe  in  view,  than  to  gratify  private 
pique,  or  party-prejudice.  It  is  indeed  fcarcely  to  be 
expefted,  that,  in  a  degenerate  age,  many  will  be  found 
to  poflefs  dignity  of  character  and  folidity  of  judgment, 
in  a  degree  fufficient  to  enable  them  to  ftand  forth  dif- 
interefted  and  efficient  cenfors  of  prevailing  folly  and 
faihionable  vice. 


No.  CXL.     ON  LOGIC  AND  METAPHYSICS*. 

TO  falfe  and  carelefs  reafoning  moft  of  the  mif- 
fortunes  of  life  are  to  be  attributed.     Logic  then, 
as  an  art,  is  perhaps  fo  far  ufeful  in  the  condudl  of  life, 
as  it  fuperinduces  a  habit  of  accurate  reafoning. 

But  what  fays  experience?  Is  the  man  who  has  di- 
gefted  Burgerfdicius  found  to  be  wiferin  his  aclionsthan 
others  ?  The  beft  difputant  that  ever  conquered  in  the- 
fchools,  when  he  has  defcended  to  the  walks  of  com- 
mon life,  has  been  found  no  lefs  prone  to  deviate  into 
the  paths  of  error,  to  be  involved  in  the  clouJs  of 
paffion,  and  mifled  by  the  falfe  lights  of  imagina- 
tion, than  the  bufy  multitude  who  nerer  heard  of  the 
categories. 

They  who  po/Tefs  common  fenfe  in  a  competent  de- 
gree, will  difcover,  with  no  other  aid,  the  fallacy  of 
wrong  reafoning.  Tney  who  are  deficient  in  it,  will 
not  find  a  fubititute  in  the  ufe  of  a  fyllogifm. 

The  great-  numbers  who  fupply  civil  and  commercial 
offices,  in  which  there  is  a  conftant  neceflity  for  the 
exertion  of  reafon,  and  who  conduct  the  mofl  important 
affairs  without  the  aid  of  fcholaftic  logic,  are  proofs  that 
vigorous  nature  wants  not  this  {lender  affiftance.  To 

imagine 


*32  ESSAYS,  No.  140. 

imagine  that  a  well-formed  mind  cannot  reafon  well 
without  logic,  is  no  lefs  abfurd,  than  to  fuppofe  that 
the  folid  oak  wants  the  fupport  of  the  ivy  that  creeps 
around  it. 

The  beft  fchool  for  the  improvement  of  reafon,  after 
a  competent  education,  is  the  living  world.  We  find 
even  the  illiterate,  who  have  fpent  their  lives  in  conftant 
action,  pofleffing  a  very  extenfive  knowledge  of  things, 
and  a  mod  accurate  method  of  judging  of  them  ;  a  know- 
ledge and  a  method  to  which  the  cultivated  but  inexpe- 
rienced reafoner  can  fcldom  attain.  It  is  common  to  fee 
the  learned  academic,  whofe  labours  arc  at  lalt  rewarded 
by  a  rural  benefice,  unable,  notwithltanding  his  acquired 
ftrength  of  reafon,  to  cope  with  the  rude  rutlic  in  a  bar- 
gain for  dues  which  the  laws  have  allotted  him. 

It  feems,  then,  that  the  gradual  decay  of  fcholaflic 
logic,  and  the  contempt  in  which  fyllogiftic  fkill'is 
held,  is  not  unreafonable.  It  contributes  little  to  the 
benefit  of  fociety.  It  is  rather  injurious  to  it,  by  draw- 
ing off  that  attention  which  might  be  ufefully  beilowed. 
What  then  (hall  we  fay  ?  Mufl  an  art,  which  our  fore- 
fathers have  itudied  from  age  to  age,  and  to  which  many 
of  us  have  devoted  our  firlt  years  at  the  hntverfities,  be 
'exploded  ?  A  veneration  is  due  to  long  eftablifhed 
opinions.  The  powers  of  judging,  which  Itimulate  the 
prefent  age  to  innovation,  were  poffeffrd  by  the  pad  in 
equal  perfection.  They  had  fome  reafon  for  their  in  di- 
lutions. The  lame  reafon  may  perhaps  remain  to  pre- 
vent the  total  abolition  of  them  ;  for  truth  and  reafon 
are  unchangeable.  Our  anceilors  eftabliftied  logical  ftu- 
dies  in  the  univerfities,  becaufe  in  their  days  there  were 
few  other  books  to  be  obtained,  and  no  other  learning 
was  prized.  Their  defcendants  muft  continue  to  bellow 
on  them  a  moderate  attention,  becaufe  every  part  of 
knowledge  contributes  to  accomplifh  the  profefled  fcho- 
lar.  But  they  need  give  no  more  than  a  moderate  atten- 
tion, becaufe  the  improvement?  of  philofophy,  and  the 
great  multiplication  of  books  in  every  part  of  human 
learning,  enable  the  ftudent  to  fpend  his  time  and  exer- 
cife  his  fagacity  more  ufefully  and  more  agreeably. 

He  who  poile/Fes  the  genius  and  tade,  together  with 
the  philofophical  fpirit  of  the  Attic  Harris,  will  do  right 


No,  140.         MORAL,      &c.  233 

to  cultivate  them  by  ftudying  the  unread  works  of  an- 
tient  logicians.  Our  Englifh  Ariftotle,  whofe  produc- 
tions are  at  once  the  quintefTence  of  elegance,  and  pro- 
digies of  analytical  ingenuity,  has  pointed  out  flowers 
in  thofe  paths  of  learning  where  thorns  only  were  fecn 
before.  The  Stagyrite  was  literally  idolized  ;  and  had 
it  been  the  fate  of  Harris  to  have  lived  a  few  centuries 
ago,  he  alfo  would  have  been  honoured  with  a  fubordf- 
nate  deification.  If  any  thing  can  reftore  a  tatle  for 
thefe  languifhing  fludies,  it  is  the  grace  which  his  ftyle 
and  his  accuracy  have  given  them. 

For  metaphyfics  what  can  be  faid  ?  If  every  book  that 
has  been  written  on  them,  and  thoufands  have^been 
written,  were  annihilated,  not  a /ingle  individual  in  the 
great  community  of  all  mankind  would  in  any  one  re- 
fpecl  have  juft  reafon  to  lament  the  lofs.  Mathematical 
and  arithmetical  ftudies  are  fpeculative,  it  is  true ;  but 
they  do  not  terminate  in  fpeculation.  They  afford  a 
great  pleafure,  abftraftedly  confidcred,  by  the  full  evi- 
dence with  which  they  difplay  their  truths  ;  but  they 
tend  to  obvious  utility  as  well  as  to  delight.  The  builder, 
the  navigator,  almoft  every  mechanic  art,  is  affifted  by 
geometry,  and  all  men,  without  exception,  are  benefited 
by  arithmetic.  But  metaphyfics  tend  only  to  benight  the 
underftanding  in  a  cloud  of  its  own  making,  to  lofe  it 
in  a  labyrinth  of  its  own  contrivance. 

Metaphyfics  were  once  encouraged  and  cultivated,  be- 
caufe  they  ferved  the  purpofes  of  fuperftition.  They 
involved  theological  fubjedls  in  a  perplexity  which  the 
fimple  could  never  unravel.  They  gave  an  air  of  myf- 
tery  and  depth,  which  caught  the  admiration  of  the  vul- 
gar. They  are  now  employed,  in  a  fimilar  manner,  in 
the  fervice  of  infidelity.  They  have  induced  the  half 
learned  and  the  conceited,  thofe  who  think  they  under- 
ftand  them,  and  thofe  who  wifh  to  be  thought  by  others 
to  underftand  them,  to  adopt,  without  being  apprehen- 
five  of  danger,  opinions  fatal  to  their  own  happinefs 
and  to  the  exiftence  of  fociety. 

Even  when  cultivated  by  the  honeft  and  truly  inge- 
nious, they  exhibit  an  inftance  of  blameable  pride. 
They  aim  at  a  fcience  to  which  man  can  never  attain. 
It  is  truly  laughable,  to  obferve  a  creature  with  hardly 
6  knowledge 


234  ESSAYS,  No.  140, 

knowledge  enough  of  the  things  around  him  to  guide 
him  with  fafety,  perplexing  himfelf  with  ontological 
enquiries  into  the  nature  of  angels,  and  the  eflence  of 
the  devil. 

The  ontologifts  and  pneumatologifls,  the  nominates 
and  reates,  the  docicres  ferapbici,  and  all  the  tribe  of 
microfcopic  philofophers,  are,  in  the  prefent  age  of 
difcernment,  totally  negleded.  Even  Malebranchc  and 
Locke,  the  moft  rational  of  the  metaphyficiaus,  are 
daily  lofing  ground.  As  a  talk  they  are  attended  to  in 
public  feminaries,  where  fome  obfolete  plan  of  ftudy 
requires  metaphyfical  exercifes  ;  but  the  multitude  of 
more  agreeable  works  feldom  leave  time  or  inclination, 
to  the  itudent  who  is  at  liberty  to  chuie  his  books,  for 
the  controverfy  concerning  innate  ideas.  A  few,  how- 
ever, in  the  prefent  times,  have  been  fo  unfortunate, 
as  to  wafte  their  labour  in  defending  materialifm,  in 
expatiating  on  liberty  and  neceffity,  in  diffufmg  fcep- 
ticifm,  and  in  proving  that  man  is  no  more  than  an 
animal.  This  laft  fentence  and  this  dodlrine  will  pro- 
bably induce  them  to  prove,  in  their  own  inftances,  that 
he  is  an  irritable  animal— genus  irritabile. 

Such  miferable  effe&s  of  metaphyfical  refearch  have 
induced  an  amiable  writer,  whofe  heart  and  abilities 
vie  with  each  other  for  excellence,  to  vindicate  the  na- 
ture and  immutability  of  truth,  to  expofe  the  futility 
of  metaphyfics,  to  confound  the  devices  of  their  pa- 
trons, and  to  eftablifli  the  natural  rights  of  common 
fenfe.  This  formidable  champion  has  given  the  laft 
fatal  blow  to  languifliing  fophiftry ;  a  blow  which,  that 
Ihe  may  never  recover,  every  man  muft  wifh,  who  knows 
the  baneful  influence  of  a  Hume's  dark  inventions,  and 
who  defires  to  counteract  it. 

To  put  an  end  to  fpeculative  error,  it  might  perhaps, 
in  fome  degree,  be  effectual  to  lay  lefs  ftrefs  upon  me- 
taphyfics in  academical  education.  Thofe  who  prefide 
over  our  feminaries  are  no  lefs  liberal  than  enlightened, 
and  will  furely,  on  fome  future  day,  if  any  part  of  the 
prefent  fyftem  of  inftruclion  is  trifling  or  pernicious,  re- 
nounce it  with  alacrity.  But  a  proper  deference  to  their  re- 
fpeftable  opinions  renders  it  reasonable  to  fuppofe,  that 
aa  attention  to  this  abllrufe,  though  otherwife  ufelefs 

fcience. 


No.  141.  MORAL,    Sec.  235 

fcience,  may  tend  to  give  the  young  mind  a  habit  of 
thinking  with  depth  and  precifion.  As  a  fevere  dif- 
cipline,  it  may  be  advantageous.  Many  a  manoeuvre  it 
taught  the  foldier  in  his  courfe  of  preparation  for  war, 
which  will  feldom  be  ufeful  in  the  field  of  battle. 

All  thofe  who  have  little  opportunity  of  being  ac- 
tively ferviceable  to  others,  have  an  unquestionable  right 
to  feek  amufement  in  nbftrufe  fpeculation,  or  in  any 
other  paftime  which  is  innocent.  They  may  puzzle 
themfelves  for  diverfion  even  in  metaphyfics.  But  if, 
in  the  courfe  of  their  enquiries,  they  fhould  fall  upon 
a  wonderful  difcovery,  which,  when  divulged,  would 
diflurb  the  happy  ignorance  of  mankind,  let  them  for 
Once  be  felfim,  enjoy  it  in  private,  and  with-hold  it 
from  the  community. 


No.  CXLI.     ON    LATIN    VERSE   AS  AN  EXER- 
CISE   AT    SCHOOLS. 


NO  part  of  claffical  education  has  been  more  ge- 
nerally cenfured  and  more  firmly  adhered  to, 
than  that  of  exercifmg  boys  in  the  compofition  of  Latin 
poetry.  The  trite  remark,  that  a  poet  is  born,  and 
rot  formed  by  difcipline,  has  been  urged  againfl  it.  It 
has  alfo  been  alleged,  that  the  time  bellowed  on  it 
would  be  more  advantageoufly  fpent  in  the  ftudy  of 
things,  and  in  acquiring  a  right  method  of  exprefiing 
our  fentiments  in  humble  profe.  It  is  abfurd  enough, 
fay  the  objeftors,  to  exaft  a  certain  portion  of  Englifti 
verfe  from  the  fcholar  ;  but  to  perplex  him  with  Latiu 
verfe,  at  a  time  when  he  might  be  learning  a  thoufand 
ufeful  things  ;  what  is  it  but  extreme  imprudence,  coun- 
tenanced indeed  by  general  practice,  but  neverthelefs 
both  culpable  and  truly  ridiculous  ? 

They  allow,  however,  that  the  cuftom  is  general,  and 
of  long  duration.  Surely  then  that  degree  of  refpeft  is 
due  to  the  general  opinion  of  mankind,  and  to  the  wif- 
dom  of  our  predecefibrj,  which  leads  us  to  prefume, 
that  there  muft  have  been  fome  benefit  perceived  by  ex- 
perience 


236  ESSAYS,  No.  141-. 

perience  from  an  inilitution  thus  antient  and  univerfal. 
And  it  is  natural  to  confider,  whether  a  few  arguments 
may  not  be  found  in  favour  of  a  mode  illently  and  uni- 
formly purfued,  amid  the  loud  clamour  every  where 
raifed  againft  it. 

The  defenders  of  pra&ices  unjuftly  cenfured,  often  do 
an  injury  to  their  caufe,  by  admitting  none  of  the  objec- 
tions to  be  reafonable.  We  will  then  allow,  that  to 
learn  to  make  Latin  verfe  is  to  lofe  tims,  when-  the 
fcholar  is  deftined  to  fpend  his  life  in  commercial  or  in 
mechanical  employments.  But,  at  the  fame  time,,  we 
muft  infift  on  its  utility  to  the  man  of  independent  for- 
tune, to  the  divine,  the  lawyer,  the  phyfician,  and  per- 
haps to  the  accomplifhed  military  commander. 

To  all  thefe  an  acquaintance  with  the  claflics  will 
add  an  elegance,  fuch  as  tends  to  complete  their  cha- 
racters as  gentlemen,  as  well  as  fcholars.  It  is  the 
finifhing  polifh  of  education,  and  operates  on  the  mind, 
like  dancing  on  the  perfon,  by  fuperadding  a  graceful 
habit.  But  there  is  no  method  fo  well  calculated  to 
ittfufe  an  intimate  knowledge  of  an  author,  as  to  imi- 
tate and  endeavour  to  rival  his  excellences.  To  writs 
Virgilian  verfe  with  true  elegance,  it  is  necefTary  to 
commit  to  memory  every  phrafe  ;  to  catch  the  very 
fpirit  of  Virgil ;  to  mark  the  varied  paufes  of  his  verfes,. 
the  length  of  his  periods,  the  peculiar  grace  of  his  ex- 
preflions ;  and  to  give  the  whole  composition  a  majeftic 
dignity.  All  thefe  requifites  to  poetical  compofition  in 
Latin,  can  only  be  acquired  by  a  frequent  and  attentive 
perufal  of  the  noble  Mantuan. 

The  firft-fruits  of  genius  produced  by  the  fine/I 
writers  that  adorn  our  annals,  were  compofuions  in. 
Latin  verfe.  Milton,  at  a  boyiih  age,  wrote  it  with, 
great  elegance.  Cowley  excelled  in  it  early.  Addifon 
was  much  celebrated  for  his  juvenile  eflays  in  it.  Prior 
began  with  writing  Latin  epigrams.  All  the  great 
men  who  have  been  educated  at  public  fchools,  where 
it  is  invariably  an  exercife,  were,  during  feveral  years» 
obliged  to  compofe  it  as  a  daily  tafk  ;  and  though 
many  of  them  were  never  diftipguifhed  in  poetry,  yet 
they  derived  confiderable  advantages  from  the  attempt, 
as  will  probably  appear  from  the  following  reflections : 

Difficulty 


No.  141.  M    O    R    A    L,,    &c.  237 

Difficulty  is  naturally  painful  ;  but  to  overcome  it 
caufes  a  very  fenfible  pleafure,  and  facilitates  future 
conqueib,  by  adding  courage.  To  write  Latin  verfe, 
is  certainly  an  arduous  taflc  to  a  young  boy;  but  the 
authority  of  his  mailer,  and  a  fpirit  of  emulation,  urge 
him  to  attempt  with  alacrity  what  his  own  indolence 
would  have  led  him  to  neglect.  Long  practice  gives 
facility.  He  finds  he  has  overcome  what  he  once 
thought  infurmountable.  When  any  new  undertaking 
offers  itfelf  in  future  with  a  difficult  and  forbidding 
afpect,  he  is  not  affrighted  ;  for  he  recollects,  that  he 
hac  already  performed  that  which,  appeared  to  him  im- 
practicable. The  exertion  neceflary  to  accomplifh  what 
is  not  eafy,  has  a  natural  tendency  to  give  the  mind 
frefh  vigour. 

A  fubject  taken  from  a  claffic,  a  moral  fentiment,  or 
an  ingenious  remark,  is  given  to  a  boy  as  a  fubject  of 
meditation  to  employ  his  leifure  during  the  intervals  of 
fchool.  He  is  taught,  that  there  muft  be  an  unity  in 
his  defign  ;  that  he  muft  invent  a  thought,  on  which  he 
is  to  difplay,  if  he  can,  good  fenfe,  and  Auguftan  wit, 
exprefted  in  the  moft  elegant  verfificaiion.  This  tends 
to  give  a  knowledge  of  things,  at  the  fame  time  that  it 
renders  it  necefl'ary  to  call  to  his  affiitance  all  his  claflical 
phrafeology.  He  muft  revolve  many  ideas  in  his  mind 
before  this  thought  'occurs.  In  this  procefs  he  exercifes 
the  powers  of  judgment,  of  difcrimination,  of  tafte.  He 
recollects  all  his  reading,  he  reviews  all  he  has  feen  and 
heard,  he  fearches  his  books  on  fimilar  topics,  and  at 
once  improves  what  he  has  obtained,  and  makes  new 
acquifitions. 

He  who  has  been  converfant  in  great  fchobls  will 
have  feen  copies  of  verfes  written  as  the  exercifes  of 
an  evening,  in  which  were  difplayed  wit,  humour, 
fine  language,  ingenious  turns,  harmonious  verfe,  and 
very  fhrewd  obfervations  on  men  arvd  things.  Such 
were  the  Lufus  Weilmonafterienfes  ;  fuch  were  many 
in  the  Mufaj  Etonenfes,  and  fuch  are  thoufands  that 
have  never  yet  been  offered  to  the  public  view.  It  is  a 
known  truth,  that  many  of  the  boys  who  were  engaged 
in  thefc  ttfeful  fports  of  a  fertile  genius,  afterwards  be- 


238  ESSAYS,  No,  141, 

came  diftinguifhed  members  of  the  literary  or  the  politi. 
cal  republic  ;  and  they  owed  much  of  that  good  reception 
which  they  met  with  in  the  world,  to  the  fame  and  merit 
of  clafiical  fcholarmip,  acquired  at  their  fchool. 

Every  liberal  fcholar  defires  to  extend  his  views,  and 
to  be  enabled  to  derive  literary  pleafure  from  all  that 
is  capable  of  affording  it.  If  he  has  formed  no  tafte  for 
modern  Latin  poetry,  he  will  be  a  ftranger  to  many 
moft  pleafing  productions.  But  he  cannot  have  a  juft 
relifh  for  them,  unlefs  he  has  a  knowledge  of  profody, 
and  of  their  various  metres ;  and  of  thefe  he  can  feldom 
have  a  perfect:  knowledge,  fuch  a  knowledge  as  will 
enable  him  to  judge  of  their  finer  graces,  without  hav- 
ing compofed  Latin  poetry  as  an  exercife. 

It  is  certain,  that  none  of  the  modern  Latinifls  have 
equalled  Virgil  and  Horace,  and  that  the  claffical 
ftudent  can  no  where  find  entertainment  fo  unmixed  as 
in  their  original  writings.  But  the  daintieft  fare  that 
an  Apicius  ever  invented,  ceafed  to  pleafe  when  con- 
ftantly  repeated.  Nor  can  he  be  faid  to  have  an  un- 
diftinguifhing  tafte,  or  a  coarfe  appetite,  who  feeks 
variety  in  the  writing  of  the  Virgilian  Vida,  and  in  the 
fweet  flrains  of  our  own  Vincent  Bourne.  There  is 
often  a  happy  union  of  the  beauties  that  diftinguifh 
Ovid,  Tibullus,  and  Martial,  in  the  Carmina  Quadra- 
gefimalia.  Rapin,  Vanier,  Buchanan,  and  Browne, 
feem  to  have  written  Latin  verfe  with  an  eafe,  which 
would  almoft  lead  to  a  fuppofition  that  Latin  was  their 
vernacular  language.  In  mifcellaneous  publications  of 
our  own  and  other  nations,  the  man  of  tafte  will  find  a 
multitude  of  poematia,  which  he  may  read  with  plea- 
fure, and  without  danger  of  corrupting  the  purity  of  his 
ftyle. 

Merely  as  the  means  of  enjoying  a  fweet  and  inno- 
cent pleafure  in  greater  perfection,  of  filling  up  a 
leifure  hour  with  an  elegant  amufement,  the  compo- 
fition  of  Latin  verfe  may  be  juftly  recommended  to  the 
affluent  and  the  generous  youth,  who  enjoys,  and  knows 
how  to  value,  a  liberal  education.  Others,  it  muft  be 
owned,  will  be  much  better  employed  in  learning  their 
pence-table. 

4  No.  CXLII. 


-No.  14:.  MORA    L,     &c. 


No.  CXLII.  ON  THE  INSENSIBILITY  OF  THE 
MEN  TO  THE  CHARMS  OF  A  FEMALE  MIND 
CULTIVATED  WITH  POLITE  AND  SOLID 
LITERATURE.  IN  A  LETTER. 


S  I  R, 

I  AM  the  only  daughter  of  a  clergyman,  who,  on  the 
death  of  my  mother,  which  happened  when  I  was 
about  three  years  old,  concentered  his  affections  in  me, 
and  thought  he  could  not  difplay  his  love  more  effectually 
than  in  giving  me  a  good  education.  His  houfe  was 
fituated  in  a  folitary  village,  and  he  had  but  little  pa- 
rochial duty,  fo  that  there  was  fcarcely  any  thing  to  di- 
vert his  attention  from  this  object.  He  had  ever  been 
devoted  to  letters,  and  confidered  learning,  next  to 
virtue,  as  the  nobleft  diftinction  of  human  nature. 

As  foon  as  I  could  read,  I  was  initiated  in  Lilly's 
Grammar,  and,  before  I  was  eight  years  old,  could  re- 
peat every  rule  in  it  with  the  greateft  accuracy.  I  was 
taught  indeed  all  kinds  of  needle-work  ;  but  two  hours 
in  every  day  were  invariably  fet  apart  for  my  improve- 
ment in  Latin.  I  foon  perfected  myfelf  in  the  element- 
ary parts,  and  had  read  Phasdrus  and  Cornelius  Nepos 
with  a  ftrict  attention  to  the  grammatical  conftruftion 
of  every  word  and  phrafe  which  they  contained.  From 
thefe  I  was  advanced  to  Virgil  and  Horace.  Under  the 
direction  of  fo  good  a  claffic  as  my  father,  I  foon  ac- 
quired a  tafte  for  their  beauties,  and  not  only  read  them 
through  with  great  delight,  but  committed  their  more 
beautiful  paflages  to  memory. 

My  father  was  fo  well  pleafcd  with  my  proficiency, 
and  with  the  taik  of  inftructing  the  object  of  his  ten- 
dereft  love,  that  he  refolved  to  carry  my  improvements 
higher,  and  to  open  to  my  view  the  fpacious  fields  of 
Grecian  literature.  The  Greek  Grammar  I  mattered 
with  great  cafe,  and  I  found  a  fweetnefs  in  the  lan- 
guage which  amply  repaid  me  for  the  little  difficulties  I 

fomctimes 


r.  *  -ESSAYS,          No.  ir. 

forne times  encountered.  From  the  Greek  Teftament  I 
proceeded  to  the  Cyropxdia  of  Xenophon,  the  Orations 
of  Demofthenes,  the  Dialogues  of  Plato,  and  the  Iliad 
and  Odyfley  of  Homer.  That  I  received  great  im- 
provement from  this  courie,  cannot  be  denied  ;  bat  the 
pleafure  of  it  alone  was  to  me  a  fufficient  reward.  I  was 
enabled  to  drink  at  the  fountain-head,  while  others 
were  obliged  to  content  themfelves  with  the  diftant  and 
polluted  flream.  I  found  that  no  tranflacions  what- 
ever, however  accurately  they  might  exhibit  the  fenfe 
of  originals,  could  exprefs  the  beauties  of  the  language. 
I  was  pofieffed  of  a  power  of  infpe&ing  ihofe  volumes, 
in  admiration  of  mhich  the  world  has  long  agreed,  but 
from  which  my  fex  has  been  for  the  moll  part  unrea- 
fonably  excluded.  It  was  a  noble  privilege,  and  I  va- 
lue myfelf  upon  it ;  but  I  hope  and  believe  I  did  not 
defpife  thofe  who  had  not  partaken  of  it  folely  for  want 
of  opportunities. 

The  French  and  Italian  languages  became  eafy  after 
my  acquaintance  with  the  Latin,  and  my  father  was  of 
opinion  that  they  are  indifpenfably  necefiary  to  the  mo- 
dern fcholar.  In  French  I  read  Rollin,  Boileau,  Fonte- 
selle,  Voiture,  Bonhours,  Brnyere,  Roufleau,  Voltaire, 
and  Marmontel ;  in  Italian,  Petrarch,  Taflb,  ArioHo, 
Gnicciardin,  and  theCortegiano  of  Ca&glione.  All  thefe 
gave  me  a  degree  of  pleafure,  which  I  am  fare  none  would 
be  without,  who  are  capable  of  obtaining  it. 

After  having  laid  a  foundation  in  the  language?, 
which  I  believe  is  feldom  done  with  fuccefs  but  at  an 
early  age,  my  father  allowed  me  to  feaft  without  ccn- 
troul  on  die  productions' of  my  own  country.  The  learn- 
ing I  had  acquired  enabled  me  to  read  them  critically, 
and  to  underftand  all  their  allufions.  The  beft  writers 
abound  fo  much  in  quotations,  that  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  they  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  an- 
tient  languages,  mnft  often  be  mortified  at  their  inabi- 
lity to  unlock  the  concealed  treafure. 

AH  theclaffical  poets,  from  Shakefpeare  to  Pope,  were 
myftndy  and  delight.  Hiflory,  which  my  father  always 
recommended  as  peculiarly  fuited  to  adorn  the  female 
mind,  was  a  favourite  purfuit.  I  digefted  Hume  and 
Robertfon,  and  took  a  pleafure  in  every  biographical 

anecdote 


No.  142.  MORAL,    *c. 

anecdote  I  could  colled.  After  reading  a  life,  or  the 
hiftory  of  any  particular  event,  I  was  always  defired. 
by  my  father  to  give  my  featiments  upon  it  in  writing; 
an  exercile  which  I  found  to  be  attended  with  great 
advantage. 

I  never  penetrated  deeply  into  the  fciences,  yet  I 
could  not  reft  fatisfied  without  a  foperfioal  knowledge 
of  agronomy,  of  the  folar  fyftem,  of  experimental  philo* 
fephy,  and  of  geography  mathematical,  phyftcal,  and 
political.  This  little  was  neceflary  for  rational  convex- 
lation,  and  I  had  neither  time  nor  tafie  for  fcientific 
refinements.  Poetry  was  my  delight,  and  I  fometimes 
wrote  it,  as  the  partiality  of  my  poor  rather  led  him  to 
affert,  in  a  pleaiing  manner. 

I  do  not  make  it  a  merit  of  my  owa,  becanfe  it  was 
entirely  owing  to  my  father's  direction,  that  with  all 
my  attention  to  books,  I  did  not  negkd  the  ornamental 
accomplifiments.  My  father  excelled  in  me  fie,  and 
he  taught  me  to  play  on  the  harpfichord.  He  en- 
gaged a  good  mafter  to  inftruft  me  in  dancing,  and  lie 
always  cannoned  me  againft  that  ncgleft  of  drefs  and 
of  accurate  cleanlinefi,  which,  he  (aid,  had  ibmetimes 
involved  literary  ladies  in  deferred  difgrace.  He  like- 
wife  inculcated  the  necefEty  of  avoiding  a  pedantic 
manner  of  converfation,  and  ftri&ly  charged  me  never 
to  be  overbearing,  or  to  (hew  in  the  company  of  others 
the  leaft  appearance  of  confcious  faperioncy.  I  believe 
I  may  venture  to  fay,  that  I  complied  with  his  direc- 
tions, and  that  I  talked  with  perfecf.  cafe  among  the 
fuperficial,  and  neither  ejcprefled  nor  felt  contempt,  er- 
cept  where  vanity  and  affedanon  were  combined  with 
ignorance. 

otwithftanding  my  improvements  and  mrearneft  - 

endeavours  to  prevent  them  from  becoming  invidious,  I 

find  myfelf  received  in  the  world  with  lefs  cordiality 

than  I  had  region  to  exped.     My  own  fcx  ftand  too 

much  in  awe  of  me  to  bear  me  any  affection.     When  I 

cooie  into  their  company,  an  univerfal  faience  would 

.  were  not  interrupted  by  myfelf.     Thoof  h 

:  fay  that  I  am  treated  rudely,  yet  I  can  eaSly 

:  ::es  I  receive  are  conftrained  ; 

ive  every  reafon  to  believe,  chat  no  final!  pains 

II.  M  '    a:* 


ESSAYS,  No. 


142, 


are  taken  to  traduce  my  character,  and  to  ridicule  my 
tafte  in  drefs,  and  all  the  circumitances  of  external 
behaviour.  Ic  is  kindly  hinted,  rhat  a  little  awkward- 
neis  and  impropriety  may  he  excufed  in  a  learned  lady, 
and  that  drefs  and  decorum  arc  beneath  the  notice  of 
a  poetefs. 

I  have  no  reafon  to  think  that  my  pcrfon  is  particu- 
larly difagreeable  ;  yet,  I  know  not  how  it  is,  I  am 
avoided  by  gentlemen  who  are  ambitious  of  the  com- 
pany of  other  ladies.  They  have  dropt,  in  the  hearing 
of  fome  of  my  friends,  that  though  they  think  me 
extremely  clever,  yet  they  cannot  reconcile  the  ideas  of 
female  attractions  and  the  knowledge  of  he  Gieek. 
They  do  not  mean  to  detract  from  my  praife ;  but  they 
muft  own,  that  I  am  not  the  woman  after  their  hearts. 
They  entertain  a  notion,  that  a  lady  of  improved  un- 
derltanding  will  not  fubmit  to  the  lefs  dignified  cares  of 
managing  a  houfehold.  She  knows  how  to  make  verfes, 
fays  the  \vitling,  but  give  me  the  woman  who  can  make 
a  pudding. 

£  mud  confefs,  I  ever  thought  it  the  moft  valuable  re- 
commendation of  a  wife  to  be  capable  of  becoming  a 
converfable  companion  to  her  hufband  ;  nor  did  I  ever 
conceive  that  the  qualifications  of  a  cook-maid,  a 
laundrefs,  or  a  houfe- keeper,  were  the  moft  defirable 
accomplifhmenfs  in  a  partner  for  life.  A  woman  of 
improved  underftanding  and  real  fenfe  is  more  likely  to 
fubmit  to  her  condition,  whatever  it  may  be,  than  the 
uneducated  or  the  half-learned  ;  and  fuch  an  one  will 
always  be  willing  to  fuperintend  ccconomy  when  it 
becomes  her  duty  ;  and  to  take  an  aftive  part  in  houfe- 
hold management,  when  the  happinefs  of  him  me 
loves,  and  of  herfelf,  depends  upon  her  perfonal  inter- 
ference. 

'  The  education  of  children  in  the  earlier  periods, 
particularly  of  daughters,  naturally  belongs  to  the  mo- 
ther. Her  inclination  to  improve  them,  feconded  by 
her  ability  to  take  the  proper  methods,  mud  be  attended 
with  the  moft  valuable  effefts.  The  world  is  acquaint- 
ed with  the  happy  conferences  of  a  Cornelia's  parental 
care.  But  it  feems  probable,  that  little  nourishment  of 
mind  can  be  imbibed  from  a  mother,  whole  ideas  harJ1- 


No.  143.  M    ORAL,     &c.  243 

ever  wandered  beyond  the  limits  either  of  a  kitchen  or 
a  drefling-room.  Neither  is  there  ftifficient  reafon  to 
conclude,  that  me  whofe  intellectual  acquifitions  enable 
her  to  entertain  her  hufband,  and  to  form  the  minds  of" 
her  children,  muft  be  incapable  or  unwilling  to  fuper- 
intend  the  table,  and  give  a  perfonal  attention  to  do- 
meftic  osconomy. 

That  learning  belongs  not  to  the  female  character, 
and  that  the  female  mind  is  not  capable  of  a  degree 
of  improvement  equal  to  that  of  the  other  fev,  are  nar- 
row and  unphilofophical  prejudices.  The  prefent  times 
exhibit  moft  honourable  inftances  of  female  learning  and 
genius.  The  fuperior  advantages  of  boys  education  are, 
perhaps,  the  fole  reafon  of  their  fubfequent  fuperiority. 
Learning  is  equally  attainable,  and,  I  think,  equally  va- 
luable, for  the  fatisfaclion  arifing  from  it,  to  a  woman 
as  a  man.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  not  lofe  the  little 
I  pofTefs.,  to  avoid  all  thofe  difagreeable  confequences 
of  which  I  have  juil  now  complained. 


No.  CXLIII.       ON    PARENTAL    INDULGENCE. 


'""T~r  H  E  love  of  progeny  feems  to  operate  as  ftrongly 
J_  in  the  brute  creation  as  in  the-  human  fpccies, 
during  the  hdplefs  ngc  of  immaturity.  The  guidance 
ol  initial,  indeed,  a.j  it  is  more  decisively  determinate, 
feems  to  bring  up  an  offspring  with  lefs  deviation  from 
the  purpnfes  of  nature,  than  the  fuperior  facility  of 
reafon.  The  greater  acuteneis  of  reafon  leads  to  he- 
Htation,  and  involves  in  error,  while  it  is  dhlracled  bv 
the  variety  of  objecls  it  aflemblcs  for  its  choice.  The 
bird  never  injures  its  young  by  repletion.  The  young, 
indeed,  of  few  animals,  when  left  to  the  care  of  the 
parent,  without  the  interference  of  man,  is  found  to 
perifh.  But  it  is  well  known  how  large  a  proportioa 
of  children  die  under  the  age  of  two  years,  in  our  me- 
tropolis. The  caufe  is  in  general  the  negleft  of  nature 
for  the  aids  of  art,  proceeding  from  a  degree  of  fondnefs 
which  llimulatcs  the  parent  to  take  all  the  care  upon 
M  z  herlHf. 


244  ESSAYS,  No.  143. 

herfelf,  and  to  leave  little  to  the  invinble  procefs  of  na- 
.  tural  energies. 

If  the  child  furvive  by  the  vigour  of  its  conftitution 
to  a  puerile  age,  even  then  the  fondnefs  of  the  parent, 
moft  amiable  in  its  origin,  but  mofl  injurious  to  the 
objeft  it  moft  wifhes  to  benefit,  is  found  to  deftroy  the 
very  purpofes  of  living,  by  endeavouring  to  render  life 
pleafurable  to  excefs,  and  without  viciffitude.  If  his 
abfence  can  be  fo  far  borne  as  to  permit  him  to  enter 
at  a  fchool,  an  earneft  defire  is  exprefled  that  he  may 
be  indulged  in  all  thofe  luxuries  of  the  table  which 
pollute  the  pure  ftream  of  the  infant  blood,  and,  by 
overloading  the  organs  of  intellect,  preclude  the  pof- 
fibility  of  folid  improvement.  He,  whofe  attention 
Ihould  be  engrofled  by  his  book,  and  who  mould  learn 
to  look  on  every  pleafure  of  the  fenfes  as  a  fubordinate 
pleafure,  is  taught,  by  the  overweening  attachment  of 
a  parent,  to  have  little  other  care  than  to  pamper  the 
grofleft  among  the  animal  appetites. 

Regularity  of  diet,  and  modeft  decency  in  all  the 
circumftances  of  fcholaftic  life,  are  often  reprefented  as 
the  refult  of  a  too  penurious  ceconomy  ;  and  the  young 
pupil  no  fooner  returns,  in  the  days  of  vacation,  to  his 
paternal  roof,  than  he  is  crammed  with  delicacies,  to 
compenfate  the  penance  he  has  undergone  at  the  place 
of  his  education. 

We  can  derive  but  little  improvement  from  the 
teacher  we  contemn.  Yet  how  can  the  boy  avoid  con- 
tempt for  the  mafter,  whom  he  is  taught  to  confider 
as  totally  regardlefs  of  any  thing  but  his  own  fordid 
interefl,  and  capable  of -depriving  the  child  committed 
to  his  care  of  his  proper  fultenarice  ?  But  they  who  are 
fenfible  in  other  refpefts,  are  rendered,  by  their  fond- 
nefs, weak  enough  to  believe  any  calumny  which  a  fro- 
ward  child  utters  for  the  -fake  of  changing  his  place  of 
education,  or_of  remaining  at  home. 

The  properi£tr"t6'  Indulgence  is  fo  ftrong,  that  at 
the  matureft  a'ge,'  and  with  the  moft  improved  reafon, 
it  is  difficult  to  reftrain  it  within  the  limits  of  modera- 
tion. To  encourage,  inftead  of  checking  this  natural 
tendency,  is,  in  effect,  to  nurfe  thofe  vices  of  the 
future  youth,  and  to  caufe  thofe  excefles  of  early  man- 
hood, 


No.  143.  MORAL,    ice.  245 

hood,  which  in  the  end  haften  the  grey  hairs  of 
the  inconftderate parent  with  forrow  to  the  grave.  Fev*1 
would  be  profligate  in  the  extreme,  if  they  were  not 
untaught  all  the  virtue  they  learn  under  their  tutors, 
by  the  example  and  inadvertence  of  their  own  family. 
When  immorality  is  obliquely  recommended  by  a  fa- 
ther's pradice,  the  infection  is  irrefiftible.  A  tutor's 
admonitions  are  foon  fuppofed  to  proceed  merely  from 
official  care,  when  they  contradidl  the  conducl  of  him 
whom  a  child  naturally  loves  above  all  others. 

The  general  cultom  of  allowing  a  considerable 
weekly  ftipend,  and  of  giving  pecuniary  prefents  to 
the  fchoolboy,  often  frustrates  the  intentions  of  educa- 
tion. It  is  not  likely  that  he  mould  give  his  thought« 
to  literary  improvement,  who  is  obliged  to  ftudy  how 
he  mall  fpend  the  bounty  of  his  aunts  and  coufins  ;  and 
whofe  pocket  always  enables  him  to  find  recreation 
without  feeking  it  in  books.  Jt  would  ;>e  hr.ppy  if 
things  could  be  fo  contrived,  that,  for  want  of  employ- 
ment, he  mould  be  driven  to  thofe  volumes  where  em- 
ployment of  the  fweeteft  kind  may  be  always  found, 
attended  with  the  moft  valuable  advantages.  A  pro- 
fufion  of  money  at  a  childifh  age  is  not  uncommonly 
the  caufe  of  fubfequent  extravagance,  and  tends  to 
introduce  one  of  the  moft  pernicious  and  leaft  curable 
vices,  a  propenfity  to  gaming.  But  reafoning  can  avail 
little  againft  the  partiality  of  fome  fond  relation,  who 
cannot  fuffer  prefent  pleafure  to  be  neglecled  by  her 
favourite,  for  the  fake  of  an  advantage  which  is  diftant 
and  uncertain. 

It  is  ufually  fuppofed  that  maternal  affeftion  is 
ftronger  than  paternal.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that 
it  often  interpofes  in  adjulting  the  plan  of  education. 
Its  kind  folicitude  is  too  amiable  to  be  cenfured  with 
afperity.  Yet  we  muft  aflert,  that  it  is  not  poffible 
that  a  mother,  though  fenfible  and  accomplished, 
mould  be  fo  well  qualified  to  direft  the  care  of  a  boy's 
education  in  all  its  parts,  as  a  father  of  equal  abilities. 
All  the  important  departments  in  civil  life  are  filled 
by  men.  The  pulpit,  the  bar,  the  fenate-houfe,  are 
appropriated  to  men.  Men,  from  the  facility  with 
which  they  travel,  and  their  fuperior  hardinefs,  fee 
M  3  more 


24&  ESSAYS,  No.  145, 

more  of  the  world  than  women,  who,  with  the  fame 
opportunities,  might  indeed  make  the  fame  obfcrva- 
tions;  but  who,  in  the  preferit  Uite  cf  things,  cannoi 
judge  of  thofe  qualifications,  attainments,  manners, 
and  char?.fter~,  which  recommend  to  notice  in  all  the 
profefiicns  of  life,  and  tend  to  in  fare  fuccefs.  Hence 
It  is  that  they  are  obferved  to  fet  the  higheil  value  on  or- 
namental accomplilhments,  of  the  grace  of  which  their 
iine  tafte  is  peculiarly  fcnfi'o'e  ;  and  to  under- rate  the 
more  folid  attainments,  with  the  utility  and, beauty  of 
which  their  iituation  often  keeps  them  unacquainted. 
Many  a  fond  and  fenfible  mother  has  controverted  the 
necefiity  of  learning  Latin,  as  a  dead  language,  in  which 
there  can  be  no  ufe,  while  the  living  languages  of  France 
and  Italy  are  moreeafily  attainable,  and  infinitely  more 
fafhionable.  Such  a  judgment  is  not  to  be  wondered  at ; 
nor  does  it  proceed  from  natural  weaknefs,  but  from  an 
«navoidable  unacquaintance  with  the  charms  of  the 
daffies,  and  the  utility  of  Latin  in  the  practice  of  every 
liberal  art,  in  the  converfation  of  the  enlightened,  and 
in  the  ftudy  of  the  mod:  admired  modern  books,  which 
abound  in  Latin  quotations,  in  allufions  to  the  claffics, 
and  in  words  which  cannot  be  fully  underflood  with- 
out underftanding  the  language  from  which  they  are 
derived. 

Add  to  this,  that  the  extreme  tendernefs  of  maternal 
afFeftion  will  not  permit  that  ft  rift  difcipline  to  be 
exercifed  on  a  beloved  fon,  which,  though  it  has 
nothingin.it  of  harm  feverity,  refembles  not  the  foft 
and  indulgent  treatment  of  the  mother  or  nurfe. 
Scarcely  any  thing  of  value  is  brought  to  perfection 
without  feme  care  analogous  to  this  fcholaftic  difcipline. 
The  tree  will  not  produce  its  fruits  in  fuilicient  abun- 
dance, or  with  a  proper  flavour,  unlefs  it  is  chnftifed  in 
its  luxuriances  by  the  hand  of  art.  It  is  requifue  that 
the  flubborn  foil  fhould  be  broken  by  cultivation.  The 
moft  ferviceabk  animals  are  either  ufelefs  or  hurtful, 
till  reduced  to  obedience  by  coercion.  Man,  above  all, 
po/Tefled  as  he  is  of  ftronger  powers  and  acuter  per- 
ceptions, of  ill  qualities  no  lefs  than  good,  in  a  fupe- 
rior  degree,  requires  all  the  aids  of  art  to  correft  his 
enormities,  and  teach  him  to  aft  a  rational  and  con. 

fiftent 


No.  144.  MORA   L,     &c.  247 

fjllent  part  in  the  theatre  of  the  world.  Although  the 
iii:ii;tion  of  ial'Jtary  difcipline  may  give  pain  even  to 
thofe  who  know  it  to  be  falutary,  yet  they  mull  not,  for 
the  i.ike  of  fparing  their  own  feelings,  aft  in  contradic- 
tion to  their  judgment,  and  do  an  irreparable  injury  to 
thoie  whom  they  moll  tenderly  lore.  Exceffive  lenity 
and  indulgence  are  ultimately  exceifive  rigour. 

With  the  excellent  eftecls  of  Spartan  dik'ipline,  every 
one  is  acquainted.  Of  the  lamentable  coniequences  ot 
modern  relaxation,  daily  experience  furnifhes  examples. 
The  puerile  age  is  patient  and  traftable.  Reformation 
mull  begin  there.  Temperance,  diligence,  modeily, 
and  humility,  cannot  be  too  early  inculcated.  Thei<- 
will  lead  through  the  temple  of  virtue  to  the  temple  of 
honour  and  happinefs.  In  this  progrefs,  ftrifl  difciplinf 
will  fometimes  be  neceiTary  ;  but  let  not  the  pretence  of 
proper  correction  give  an  opportunity  for  the  gratification 
of  viadidive  cruelty.  Inhumanity,  even  in  a  Bufby,  ad- 
xnhs  not  of  palliation*. 


No.   CXLIV.      ON   THE    POEMS    ATTRIBUTED 
TO    ROWLEY. 


THERE  are  many  truths  which  we  firmly  believe, 
though  we  are  unable  to  refute  every  argument 
which  the  extreme  fubtilty  of  refined  learning  may  ad- 
vance to  invalidate  them.  When  I  read  the  refearches 
of  thofe  learned  antiquaries  who  have  endeavoured  to 
prove,  that  the  poems  attributed  to  Rowley  were  really- 
written  by  him,  I  obferve  many  ingenious  remarks  in 
confirmation  of  their  opinion,,  which  it  would  be  tedious, 
if  not  difficult,  to  controvert.  But  I  no  fooner  turn  to 
the  poems,  than  the  labour  of  the  antiquaries  appears  only 
a  waile  of  time  and  ingenuity,  and  I  am  involuntarily, 
forced  to  join  in  placing  that  laurel,  which  he  feems  fo 
well  to  have  deierved,  on  the  brow  of  Chatterton. 

The  poems  bear  fo  many  marks  of  fuperior  genius, 

thai  they  have, defervedly  excited  the  general. attention  of 

M.  4  polhe 


*4*  ESSAY    S,  No.  144. 

polite  fcholars,  and  are  confidered  as  the  moft  re- 
markable productions  in  modern  poetry.  We  have 
many  inftances  of  poetical  eminence  at  an  early  age  ;  but 
neither  Cowley,  Milton,  nor  Pope,  ever  produced  any 
thing,  while  they  were  boys,  which  can  juftly  be  com- 
pared to  the  poems  of  Chatterton.  The  learned  antir 
quaries  do  not  indeed  difpute  their  excellence.  They 
extol  it  in  the  higheft  terms  of  applaufe.  They  raife 
their  favourite  Rowley  to  a  rivalry  with  Homer ;  but 
they  make  the  very  merit  of  the  works  an  argument 
againft  the  real  author.  Is  it  poffible,  fay  they,  that 
a  boy  could  produce  compositions  fo  beautiful  and  fo 
mafterly?  That  a  common  boy  fhould  produce  them 
is  hot  poffible;  but  that  they  fhould  be  produced  by 
a  boy  of  an  extraordinary  genius,  fuch  a  genius  as  is  that 
of  Homer  and  Shakefpeare  ;  fuch  a  genius  as  appears 
not  above  once  in  many  centuries  ;  though  a  prodigy, 
is  fuch  an  one  as  by  no  means  exceeds  the  bounds  of 
rational  credibility. 

That  Chatterton  was  fuch  a  genius,  Ms  manners  and 
Vs-j  iifv  in  U  ii;c  tit-glee  e.iroe.  iit  had  all  the  trei¥.u!cit3 
ic-rfibiiiiy  of  genius,  all  its  eccentricities,  all  Its  pride, 
and  all  its  fpirit.  Even  his  death,  unfortunate  and 
wicked  as  it  was,  difplayed  a  magnitude  of  foul,  which 
urged  him  to  fpurn  a  world,  where  even  his  exalted 
genius  could  not  vindicate  him  from  contempt,  indi- 
gence, and  contumely. 

Againft  the  opinion  of  his  fuperiority  of  genius,  the 
mifcellanies  which  he  publiftied  in  a  periodical  pamphlet 
are  triumphantly  produced.  But  what  proof  is  there, 
that  all  which  are  attributed  to  him  were  really  his  own  ? 
They  are  collected  after  his  death  ;  collected,  I  foppofe, 
by  conjefture,  and  published  in  a  feparate  volume, 
with  all  the  typographical  errata  of  the  hafty  pamphlets 
from  which  they  are  reprinted.  But  in  many  of  the 
pieces  which  were  confefTedly  written  by  him  there  are 
marks  of  genius,  not  indeed  equal  to  thofe  of  the 
counterfeit  Rowley,  but  fuch  as  prove,  that  the  boy 
who  wrote  them  could  write  better.  In  compofing  the 
ancient  poems  all  his  attention  had  been  exerted.  It 
was  thefirft,  and  feems  to  have  been  the  greateft,  objed 
of  his  life,  to  raife  himfelf,  to  future  eminence  by  the 

inftru- 


No.  144-  MORA  L,    &c.  249 

inftrumentality  of  a  fi&itious  poet  of  a  former  age. 
Nights,  if  not  days,  were  devoted  to  the  work  ;  for  we 
have  it  on  record,  that  he  ufed  to  fit  awake  in  his  cham- 
ber during  the  filence  of  midnight.  But  the  little  com- 
pofitions  which  he  wrote  for  the  magazines,  were  either 
written  in  a  carelefs  mood,  when  he  relaxed  his  mind 
from  his  grand  work,  or  in  a  moment  of  diftrefs,  when 
an  extemporary  eflay  or  copy  of  verfes  was  neceflary  to 
procure  him  a  halfpenny  roll  and  a  draught  of  frnall  beer. 
When  he  found  that  the  editors  were  more  defirous  of 
quantity  than  quality,  and  amidft  the  numerous  volun- 
teers in  their  fervice,  feemed  backward  to  engage  with, 
one  who  wanted  a  ftipend,  he  forefaw  that  even  the  lit- 
tle which  nature  wan  ted  would  not  befupplied— He  faw, 
and  refigned  his  indignant  fpirit. 

Unfortunate  boy!  fhort  and  evil  were  thy  days,  but 
thy  fame  mail  be  immortal.  Hadft  thou  been  known  to 
the  munificent  patrons  of  genius— But  waft  thou  not 
known  to  one  ?  If  fame  report  thy  treatment  truly,  it 
was  not  kind  of thee,  Horatio;  it  was  not  like  thyfelf,r- 
for  thou  art  gentle  in  thy  nature.  Waft  thou  not  confi- 
dered  as  the  oracle  of  tafte,  the  inveftigator  of  all  that  is* 
curious  in  arts  and  literature  ?-^It  was  then,  atlaft,  thy 
only  pride  and  pleafure  to  bring  to  light  a  catalogue  of 
roya/and  «0^/Vauthors. — What  hadft  thou  to  do  with  rep- 
tiles ?  with  a  poor,  friendlefs,  and  obfcure  charity-boy  ? 
Befides,  exclaims  Horatio,  it  was  a  forgery  — a  horrid,  a 
vile  forgery — Importers  are  not  to  be  encouraged — But 
let  us  afk  thee,  Didft  not  thou  put  a  falfe  name  to  thy 
own  romance,— to  thy  own  poor  production,  for  fuch  it 
is  when  compared  with  the  fublime  excellence  of  Chat- 
terton  ?  If,  indeed,  thy  negleft  of  the  poor  toy  arofe  from 
miftake  or  inadvertency,  and  I  think  it  might,  the  gene- 
rous Public  freely  forgives  thee  j— but  if  from  pride  and 
infolence,  the  prefent  and  all  future  times  will  probably 
refent  an  omiffion,  which  haftened  one  of  the~greateft  ge» 
niufes  which  England  ever  knew,  at  the  age  oVa  boy,  to 
that 'bourne  from  which  no  traveller  returns. 

Unfortunate  boy  !    poorly  waft  thou  accommodated 

during    thy  (hort  fojourning    among  us ;  — rudely  waft 

thou  treated,— forely  did  thy  feeling   foul  fuffer  from 

the  fcorn  of  the  unworthy  ;  and  there  are,  at  laft,  thofe 

M  5  who 


250  ESSAYS,  No.  144, 

who  wifh  to  rob  thee  of  thy  only  meed,  thy  pofthumous 
glory.  Severe  too  are  the  cenfurers  of  thy  morals.  la 
the  gloomy  moments  of  defpondency,  I  fear  thou  hail 
uttered  impious  and  blafphcmous  thoughts,  which  none 
can  defend,  and  which  neither  thy  youth,  nor  thy  fiery 
fpirit,  nor  thy  fituation,  can  extenuate.  But  let  thy  mere 
rigid  cenfors  reflect,  that  thou  waft  literally  and  ilriclly 
but  a  boy.  Let  many  of  thy  bitiereft  enemies  reflect 
what  were  their  own  religious  principles,  and  whether 
they  had  any,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  fifteen,  and  fixteen. 
Surely  it  is  a  fevere  and  an  unjuft  furmife,  that  thou 
wouldft  probably  have  ended  thy  life  as  a  victim,  of  the 
laws,  if  thou  hadft  not  finifhed  it  as  thou  didfl  ;  fince  the 
very  aft  by  which  thou  durfl  put  an  end  to  thy  painful 
exiitence,  proves,  that  thou  thoughteft  it  better  to  die, 
than  to  fupport  life  by  theft  or  violence. 

The  fpeculative  errors  of  a  boy  who  wrote  from  the 
fudden  fuggeftions  of  paffion  or  defpondency,  who  15 
not  convicted  of  any  immoral  or  difhoneft  aci  in  con- 
fequence  of  his  fpeculations,  ought  to  be  excufed  and 
configned  to  oblivion.  Eut  there  feems  to  be  a  genera! 
ami  inveterate  diflike  to  the  boy,  exclufively  of  the 
poet ;  a  diflike  which  many  will  be  ready  to  impute, 
and,  indeed,  not  without  the  appearance  of  reafon, 
to  that  inference  and  envy  of  the  little  great,  which 
cannot  bear  to  acknowledge  fo  tranfcendent  and  com- 
manding a  faperiority  in  the  humble  child  of  want  and 
obfcuricy. 

Malice,  if  there  was  any,  may  furely  now  be  at  reft  j; 
for  "  Cold  he  lies  in  the  grave  below."  But  where 
vere  ye,  O  ye  friends  to  genius,  when  flung  with  dif- 
appointment,  diftrefied  for  food  and  raiment,  with  every 
frightful  form  of  human  mifery  painted  on  his  fine 
imagination,  poor  Chatterton  funk  in  defpair?  Alas! 
ye  knew  him  not  then,  and  now  it  is  too  late,,— — • 

For  now  he  is  dead  ;, 

Gone  to  his  death-bed, 

All  under  the  willow  tree. 

So  fang  the  fweet  youth,  in  as  tender  an  elegy  as  ever 
tit  wed  from  a  feeling  heart. 

In  return   for  the  pleafure  I  have  received  from  thy- 

poeim,  I  p?-y  thee,   poor  boy,    the  trifling   tribute  of" 

fe  my 


No.  i4j-.  NT"  O    R    A'   L,     &c.  251 

my  praife.  Thyfelf  thou  haft  emblazoned  ;  thine  own 
monument  thou  hail  erefted.  But  they  whom  thou  hafl 
delighted,  feel  a  pleafure  in  vindicating  thine  honours 
from  the  rude  attacks  of  detraction.  Thy  fentiments,. 
thy  verfe,  thy  rhythm  are  all  modern,  are  all  thine.  By 
the  help  of  gloflaries  and  dictionaries,  and  the  perufal 
of  many  old  Englilh  writers,  thou  haft  been  able  to 
tranilate  the  language  cf  the  prefent  time  into  that  cf 
former  centuries.  .Thou  haft  built  an  artificial  ruin. 
The  flones  are  mo-fly  and  old,  the  whole  fabric  appears 
rtally  antique  to  the  diitant  and  the  c?.relefs  fpedtator  ;, 
even  the  connoifleur,  who  pores  with  fpedtacles  on  the 
fingle  ftones,  and  infpecls  the  moffy  concretions  with  an 
aniiquarian  eye,  boldly  authenticates  its  antiquity;  but 
they  who  examine  without  prejudice,  and  by  the  crite- 
rion of  common  fenfe,  clearly  difcover  the  cement  and 
the  workmanilnp  of  a  modern  mafon. 

But  though  I  cannot  entertain  a  doubt  but  that  the 
poems  were  written  by  Chatterton,  .yet  I  mean  not  to 
didate  to  others,  nor  will  I  engage  in  controverfy.  I 
have  exprefled  my  feelings  as  thole  of  a  reader,  who,, 
though  he  refpecls  the  iludy  of  antiquities,  diilikes  the 
blind  prejudices  of  the  mere  antiquary.  I  leave  the 
weapons  of  controverfy  to  be  wielded  bv  thofe  powerful 
champions  in  the  caufe  of  Chatterton,  a  Tyrwhit  and  a 
Warton.  I  give  a  Jingle  vote  for  Ghatterton  ;  but  I  car. 
make  no  intereil  in  his  favour. 


N-O.   CXLV.       ON    THE  MORAL  TENDENCY  OF 
T.HE  WRITINGS  OF   STERNE. 


IT  is  the  privilege  of  genius,  Hkre  ths  fnn,  to  gild 
every  objeft  on  which  it  em.its  its  lurlre.  Jf  the  in- 
fluence of  its  light  and  heat  be  directed  on  deformity 
itft'lf",  fometliing  of  ?.n  agreeable  tinge  is  communi- 
cated ;  and  that  which  naturally  excites  horror  and 
r.verfion,  begins  at  laft  to  pleafc.  Genius,  like  the  fabu 
lous  power  of  a  Midas,  ken>s  to  convert  all  its  touches 
into  gold,  and  with  the  wonderful  property  of"  the 
en  itone,  to  tranfmute  t!ie  bafeil  to  the  purcft 
M  6  raeul. 


252  ESSAYS,  No.  145. 

metal.  Hence  it  has  happened,  that  doctrines  which 
common  fenfe  and  common  prudence  have  repudiated, 
are  no  fooner  recommended  by  writers  of  genius,  than 
they  are  received  without  debate,  and  admired  as  the 
ultimate  difcoveries  of  improved  philofophy.  Let  the 
fame  opinions  be  advanced  by  a  dull  writer,  and  even 
the  vain  and  the  vicious,  whom  they  tend  to  encourage,, 
will  refute  and  difavow  th«m  from  principles  of  pride 
and  of  fhame. 

That  Sterne  poffefled  a  fine  particle  of  real  genius,  if 
our  reafon  were  difpofed  to  deny  it,  our  fenfations  on 
perufing  him  will  fully  evince.  It  is,  I  think,  an  infallible 
proof  of  real  genius,  when  a  writer  poflefles  the  power  of 
lhaking  the  nerves,  or  of  affecting  the  mind  in  the  mod 
lively  manner  in  a  few  words,  and  with  the  moft  perfect 
Simplicity  of  language.  Such  a  power  confpicuoufly 
marks  both  a  Shakefpeare  and  a  Sterne ;  though  Sterne 
is  far  below  Shakefpeare  in  the  fcale  of  genius. 

I  am  ready  to  allow  to  Sterne  another  and  a  moft  ex-i- 
alted  merit  beiides,  and  above  the  praife  of  genius. 
There  never  was  a  heathen  philofopher  of  any  age  or 
nation,  who  has  recommended,  in  fo  affecting  a  manner, 
the  benignant  doctrines  of  a  general  philanthropy.  He 
has  corrected  the  acrimony  of  the  heart,  fmoothed  the 
afperities  of  natural  temper,  and  taught  the  milk  of  hu- 
man kindnefs  to  flow  ail-cheerily  (it  is  his  own  expreffion) 
in  gentle  and  uninterrupted  channels. 

To  have  effected  fo  amiable  a  purpofe  is  a  great 
praife,  a  diftinguiflied  honour.  Ilament  that  the  praife 
is  leflened  and  the  honour  fullied  by  many  faults  and 
many  follies,  which  render  the  writings  of  Sterne  juftly 
and  greatly  reprehenfible. 

If  we  confider  them  as  compofitions,  and  are  guided 
in  our  judgment  by  the  dictates  of  found  criticifm, 
and  by  thofe  ftandards  of  excellence,  the  rectitude  of 
which  has  been  decided  by  the  teftimony  of  the  politeit 
ages,  it  will  be  neceflary  to  pronounce  on  them  a  fevere 
fentence.  The  great  critic  of  antiquity  required,  as  the 
neceflary  conftituents  of  a  legitimate  compofition,  a 
beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end.  I  believe  it  will  be 
difficult  to  find  them  in  the  chaotic  eonfufion  of  Triftram 
Shandy.  But,  difregarding  the  tribunal  of  Ariftotle, 

to 


N9,  US-  MORA  L,    &c.  253. 

to  which  the  modern  pretenders  to  genius  do  not  con- 
fider  themfelves  as  amenable,  it  will  {till  be  true,  even 
by  the  decifions  of  reafon  and  common  fenfe,  that  his 
writings  abound  with  faults. 

Obfcurity  has  always  been  deemed  one  of  the  greateft. 
errors  of  winch  a  writer  can  be  guilty;  and  there  have 
been  few  readers,  except  thofe  who  thought  that  the- 
acknowledgment  would  derogate  from  their  reputation 
for  wifdom,  who  have  not  complained  that  Triftram, 
Shandy  is  in  many  places  difguftfully  obfcure. 

The  admirers  o£  Sterne  extol  his  wit.  But  I  believe- 
it  will  be  found  that  his  wit  is  of  the  loweft  kind,  and 
the  eafieft  of  invention  ;  for  is  it  not  for  the  moft  part 
allufive  oWcenity?  a  fpecies  of  wit  to  be  found  in 
its  fulleft  perfection  in  the  vulgareft  and  vileft  haunts  of 
vice  i  It  is,  indeed,  eafy  to  attract  the  notice  and 
the  admiration  of  the  youthful  and  the  wanton,  by 
exhibiting  loofe  images  under  a  tranfparent  veil.  It  is 
true  indeed  there  is  ufually  a  veil,  and  the  decent  are 
therefore  tempted  to  read  ;  but  the  veil,  like  the  affected 
modefty  of  a  courtezan,,  ferves  only  as  an  artifice  co  fa-r 
cilitate  corruption. 

The  praife  of  humour  has  been  lavished  on  him  wich-. 
peculiar  bounty.  If  quaintnefs  is  humour,  the  praife 
is  all  his  own,  and  let  Cervantes  and  Fielding  bow 
their  heads  to  Sterne.  They  who  admire  Uncle  Toby, 
Doctor  Slop,  and  Corporal  Trim,  as  natural  characters, 
or  as  exhibiting  true  humour  in  their  manners  and  con- 
verfations,.  are  little  acquainted  with  nature,  and  have 
no  juft  tafte  for  genuine  humour.  It  is  evident  enough, 
that  the  author  meant  to  be  humorous  and  witty,  and 
many  of  his  readers,  in  the  abundance  of  their  good-na-* 
ture,  have  taken  the  will  for  the  deed. 

But  till  obfcurity,  till  obfcenity,  till  quaintnefs,  till 
impudence,  till  oddity,  and  mere  wantonnefs,  wildnefs, 
and  extravagance,  are  perfections  in  writing,  Triitram 
Shandy  cannot  juft!y  claim  the  rank  to  which  it  has 
been  raifed  by  folly  and  fafliion,  by  caprice,  libertinifm, 
and  ignorance.  I  know  that  this  cenfure  will  be  con. 
fidered  as  blafphemy  by  the  idolaters  of  Sterne;  but 
1  hope  it  will  not  four  that  milk  of  human  kindnefs 
which  they  may  have  imbibed  from  his  writings  j  and 

to 


254-  ESSAY    S,  No.  i4j. 

to  an  excefiive  degree  of  which  many  foft  and  effeminate 
perfons  affectedly  pretend.  Let  their  philanthropy  re- 
prefs  awhile  their  refentment,  and  I  will  venture  to 
predict,  that  time  will  infenfibly  ftrip  the  writer  of  thofe 
honours  which  never  belonged  to  him. 

But  will  you  allow  his  ferraons  no  merit  ?  I  allow  fome 
ef  them  the  merit  of  the  pathetic  ;  but  the  laborious  at- 
tempts to  be  witty  and  humorous  have  fpoiled  the 
greater  part  of  them.  The  appearance  of  fincerity  is  one 
of  the  belt  beauties  of  a  fermon.  But  Sterne  feems  as  if  he 
were  laughing  at  his  audience,  as  if  he  had  afcended  the 
pulpit  in  a  frolic,  and  preached  in  mockery.  Had  he 
however  written  nothing  but  his  fermons,  he  certainly 
would  not  have  been  cenfured  as  the  dellroyer  of  the 
morals  and  the  happinefs  of  private  life. 

There  are,  indeed,  exquiihe  touches  of  the  pathetic 
interfperfed  throughout  all  his  works.  His  pathetic 
ftories  are  greatly  admired.  The  pathetic  was  the  chief 
excellence  of  his  writings  ;  his  admirers  will  be  dil- 
pleafed  if  one  were  to  add,  that  it  is  the  only  one 
which  admits  of  unalloyed  applaufe.  It  is  certainly  this 
which  chiefly  adorns  the  Sentimental  Journey  ;  a  work 
which,  whatever  are  its  merits,  has  had  a  pernicious 
influence  on  the  virtue,  and  conlequently  on  the  happi- 
nefs, of  public  and  private  fociety. 

That  ioftnefs,  that  affected  and  excefllve  fympathy  at 
firii  fight,  that  fentimental  affeclion,  which  is  but  luft.. 
in  difgmff,  and  which  is  fo  llrongly  infpired  by  the 
Sentimental  Journey,  and  byTriiiram  Shandy,  have  been 
the  ruin  of  thoufands  of  our  countrymen  and  country- 
women, who  fancied,  that  while  they  were  breaking  the 
laws  of  God  and  man,  they  were  actuated  by  the  fine 
$e?\\ngs-Qtfer.tirnenialnfj~e<:i!<>ri.  How  much  are  divorces 
multiplied  fince  Sterne  appeared  ! 

Sterne  himfelf,  with  all  his  pretenfions,.  is  faid  to 
have  difplayed,  in  private  life,  a  bad  and  a  hard  heart; 
and  I. (hall  not  hefuate  to  pronounce  him,  though  many 
admire  him  as  the  firitofphilofophers,  the  grand  promoter 
of  adultery, .and  every  fpecies  of  illicit  commerce. . 


No.  CXLVL- 


No.  146.  MORAL,     &c. 


No.  CXLVI.  ON  THE  WEIGHT  AND  EFFI- 
CACY WHICH  MORALITY  MAY  DERIVE 
FROM  THE  INFLUENCE  AND  EXAMPLE  OF 
THOSE  WHO  ARE  CALLED  THE  GREAT. 


IT  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  world  abounds  with 
moral  inftruclion,  and  that  there  is  fcarcely  any 
good  thing  fo  eafily  obtained  as  good  advice;  but  it  13 
no  lefs  true,  that  moral  inftruftion  and  good  advice 
are  found  to  poflefs  a  very  fmall  degree  of  influence  in 
the  bufy  walks  of  active  life.  In  thechurch,  we  hear  the 
fcriptures  read  and  fermons  preached  ;  in  the  library, 
we  itudy  and  admire  the  morality  of  the  philofophers ;. 
but  how  few,  in  the  aclual  purfuits  of  ambition,  of  intc- 
relt,  of  pleafure,  and  even  in  the  common  occupations  and 
intercourfe  of  ordinary  life,  fuffer  their  conduct  to  be 
regulated  by  the  precept  of  a  Solomon,  of  a  Socrates,, 
or  of  him  who  was  greater  than  either  ! 

No  fentence  is  Writer,  than  thafc  all  example  is 
more  powerful  than  precept;  but  when  the  example 
is  fet  by  the  rich  and  the  great,  its  influence  on  the 
herd  of  mankind  becomes  irrelillible.  What  can  books 
effecl?  what  avail  the  gentle  admonitions  of  the  retired 
moralift,  againfl  the  examples  of  lords,  dukes,  and 
Earl  India  Nabobs  ?  Can  the  ftill  fmall  voice  of  confci- 
ence  be  heard  by  thofe  who  live  in  the  noiie  and  tumult 
of  pleafurable  purfuits  ?  or  can  the  mild  doctrines  of 
the  humble  Jcfus  be  attended  to,  amid  the  agitations  of 
the  gaming-table,  and  the  debaucheries  of  a  brothel  ?- 
A  vicious  nobleman,  or  profligate  man  of  falhion,. 
contributes  more  to  extirpate  morality,  and  diminilh  the 
little  portion  of  happinefs  which  is  allowed  to  mankind, 
than  all  the  malignant  writings  of  the  fceptics,  from 
r»1andeville  and  Bolingbroke,  down  to  the  feeble  and 
cowardly,  yet  Conceited  writer,  who  infinuates  his  cor- 
nipt  and  infidel  opinions  under  the  fair  femblunce  of 
an  elegant  hiftory.  I  cannot  help  obferving,  when  I 

think 


*S5  ESSAYS,  !*>.  14$. 

think  of  this  lafl  and  recent  attempt,  that  it  refembles 
that  of  the  evil  fpirit,  who,  when  he  beguiled  the 
mother  of  mankind,  and  ruined  all  her  progeny,  ufed 
the  foft  words  of  an  affefted  eloquence.  The  ferpent 
was  however  curfed ;  but  the  wily  hiftorian  is  invited 
to  a  court,  rewarded  with  places  of  honour  and  ad- 
vantage, and  eagerly  enrolled  in  the  legiflative  body  of 
a  mighty  and  a  chriftian  nation. 

It  is  certainly  true,,  that  when  a  government  beftow* 
peculiar  honour  on  men  who  have  written  againft  the 
religion  of  the  country,  and  who  have  impioufly  fought 
againft  the  King  of  kings,  it  muft  lofe  the  refpeft  and 
attachment  of  all  good  men.  The  religion  of  a  country 
is  unqueftionably  worthy  of  more  folicitude  in  its 
prefervation  than  the  political  conftitution,  however 
excellent  and  admirable.  Kings,  with  all  their  minions 
and  prerogatives,  lawgivers  and  laws,  are  trifles  com- 
pared to  that  fyftem  of  religion,  on  which  depends 
the  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of  every  individual 
throughout  the  empire.  What  avails  it,  that  under  a 
fuccefsful  adminiftration  the  French  are  beaten,  and 
the  Americans  fcourged  for  the  fin  of  rebellion,  if 
the  fame  adminiflration  ruins  our  beft,  our  fweeteft 
hopes  ;  thofe  which  rely  on  the  proteflion  of  a  kind 
Providence,  and  thofe  which  cheer  us  in  this  vale  of 
mifery,  by  the  bright  gleams  of  a  fun  which  fhall  rife  to 
fet  no  more  ? 

But  fuppoiing  the  narrow-minded  minifters  of  a 
government  fo  involved  in  gaming,  fenfuality,  and  tem- 
poral concerns,  as  to  view  all  religion  as  impofture, 
and  all  modes  of  faith  as  political  contrivances  ;  yet 
furely  they  aft  inconfiftently  with  the  dictates  of  their 
own  mean  and  low  fpecies  of  wifdom,  when  they  extir- 
pate, by  their  example,  that  religion  which  they  allow- 
to  be  politically  ufeful.  What  ideas  can  the  multitude 
entertain  of  the  truth  or  advantages  of  a  religion,  when 
they  Tee  thofe  who  openly  deride,  and  profefs  to  dif- 
believe  it,  poflefling  the  greatell  power  of  the  ftate, 
appointing  bi/hops,  and  archbimops,  and  Signing, 
while  they  fit  at  the  table  with  a  ftrumpet,  prefenta- 
tions  to  the  cure  of  half  the  fouls  in  the  three  kingdoms  ? 
Who,  unlefs  he  is  corrupted  by  thefe  inftances,  but 


No.  146.  MORAL,    &c,  257 

mud  feel  an  honeft  indignation,  if  a  man  were  raifed 
to  the  chancellorfhip  of  England,  in  whofe  difpofal  are 
fo  many  ecclefiaftical  preferments,  were  a  bully  in  his 
profeffion,  and  in  private  life  a  whoremafter  ?  Who  can 
wonder  that  the  thoufand  little  imitators  of  him  mould 
think  it  a  mark  of  fpirit,  wifdom,  and  abilities,  to  fol- 
low his  fleps  in  the  paths  of  vice,  and,  if  pcflible,  to 
exceed  his  enormities?  What  muft  the  common  people 
think  when  profligate  men  are  advanced  to  the  head  of 
a  profeffion  ?  They  cannot  but  believe,  that  thofe  who 
are  reputed  to  be  fo  much  wifer  than  themfelves,  and  who 
are  evidently  greater,  in  a  worldly  fenfe  of  the  epithet, 
muft  have  ehofen  that  fyftem  of  opinions,  and  that  plan 
of  condufr,  which  are  moft  likely  to  be  juft  and  rational, 
£ife  and  pleafant.  "  If  my  Lord,  or  his  Grace,"  fays 
the  mechanic,  "  of  whofe  wifdom  liftening  fenates 
(land  in  awe,  is  a  debauchee  and  an  infidel,  I  muft 
conclude,  that  my  pariih  preacher,  an  obfcure  and 
homely  man,  is  a  hypocrite,  religion  a  farce,  mora- 
lity a-  ufelefs  reftraint  on  the  liberty  of  nature.  Wel- 
come, then,  univerfal  Jibertinifni  !  and  let  us  haften 
to  the  houfe  of  the  harlot;  let  us  drink  the  fweet  cup 
of  intoxication  ;  let  us  fcorn  the  creeping  manners  of 
vulgar  induftry,  and,  like  men  of  fpirit,  feek  our  for- 
tune with  a  piftol  on  the  highway." 
We  will  fuppofe  the  cafe  of  a  great  officer  of  ftate* 
but  of  an  abandoned  character,  refiding  at  a  great  houfe 
in  a  populous  ftreet  of  the  metropolis.  His  confpicuous 
Aation  draws  the  eyes  of  all  the  neighbours  on  every 
part  of  his  private  as  well  as  his  public  conduct.  His 
neighbours,  we  will  proceed  to  fuppofe,  are  honed  men, 
bred,  in  what  he  calls  the  prejudices,  but  which  they 
really  believed  the  virtues,  of  their  forefathers.  They 
are  faithful  hufbands,  they  are  conftant  churchmen. 
They  are  temperate  and  ceeonomical.  They  are  induf- 
trious  in  their  occupations,  and  jull  in  the  payment  of 
their  debts.  But  the  great  man  produces  in  them  a  to- 
tal metamorphofis.  He  lives  in  a  Hate  of  famionablc  fe- 
pr.ration  from  his  wife,,  whom  he  treated  cruelly  and 
wickedly.  He  keeps  a  miftrefs.  His  houfe  is  a  conftant 
fcene  of  intemperate  feilivity.  His  Sundays  are,  in  a 
peculiar  manner,  devoted  to  jollity,  gaming,  and  de- 
bauchery. 


2,8  ESSAYS,  No.  146. 

bauchery.  He  would  as  focn  think  of  going  to  heaven 
as  to  church  ;  and  as  to  paying  debts,  it  is  quite  unfa- 
ihionabk',  and  lie  has  gentecicr  methods  of  expending 
his  money  than  on  the  low  tnidefrnen  who  fuppiy  him 
with  nothing  elfe  but  neceflaries.  Who,  that  has  any 
pretenfions  to  faihion,  could  bear  to  neglecl  a  horfc  race 
and  the  gaming-table,  merely  to  fatisfy  the  greafy  inha- 
bitants of  Clare-market  r  Such  is  fomeLimes  the  exam- 
ple of  the  great  neighbour. 

Now  I  afk,  whether  the  reftraints  of  a  common  edu- 
cation or  of  common  principles,  whether  the  maxims  of 
books  or  the  admonitions  of  preachers,  can  counterba- 
lance the  weight  of  i'uch  an  example,  rendered  brilliant 
by  riches  and  grandeur,  and  iHll  farther  recommended 
by  the  patronage  of  a  king,  and  the  authority  of  office  'i 
Vice  and  mifery  are  communicated  from  him,  fJrii  to 
his  neighbourhood,  and  then  to  the  public  at  large,  like 
infeftious  and  fatal  difeafes  from  the  foul  contagion  of  a 
putrid  carcafe. 

But  if  a  king,  a  court,  a  miniflry,  a  parliament, 
were  to  honour  and  reward  thofe  only,  or  chiefly,  whofe 
charaders  were  unimpeached,  and  to  brand  with 
infamy,  or  at  lead  to  neglect,  the  abandoned  libertine 
and  the  audacious  blafphemer,  however  celebrated  for 
eloquence  and  abilities,  then  would  the  empire  be 
fixed  on  a  bafis  of  adamant;  then  would  faction  and 
rebellion  be  no  more  ;  and  the  rulers  of  this  world 
would  deferve  to  be  honoured  with  a  title  to  which 
they  have  ufually  but  little  claim,  that  of  the  Reprefeot- 
atives  of  the  Beneficent  and  Almighty  Lord  of  all 
Creation. 


No.  CXLVII, 


No.  147.  MORAL,    &c,  259 


No.  CXLVII.  ON  THE  PROFLIGACY  AND 
CONSEQUENT  MISERY  OF  THE  LOWER 
CLASSES,  AND  ON  THE  MEAN'S  OF  PRE- 
VENTION. 


A  Contemplative  and  benevolent  man  can  fcarcely 
J~\  look  down  for  a  moment  on  the  lower  walks  of 
life  without  feeling  his  compaflion  powerfully  excited. 
On  whatever  fide  he  turns,  he  beholds  human  nature  fadly 
degraded,  and  finking  into  the  moil  deplorable  wretch- 
cdnefs,  in  proportion  as  it  recedes  from  irs  natural  and 
its  attainable  perfection .  Ye  philofophers,  w  ho  exert  your 
ingenuity  to  explode,  as  unneceflary,  the  little  virtue 
and  religion  that  remain  among  us,  leave  your  clofets 
awhile,  and  furvcy  mankind  as  they  are  found  in  the 
purlieus  of  a  great  metropolis,  in  the  haunts  of  old 
Drury,  of  St.  Giles's,  of  Duke's  Place,  ofHotkley  in 
the  Hole,  of  the  brothel,  of  the  prifon-houfe,  and  then 
fay  whether  your  hearts  do  not  finite  you  on  the  recollecr 
tion,  that  you  have  exercifed  thofe  talents  which  God, 
Almighty  gave  you  for  benignant  purpofes,  in  breaking 
down  the  fences  of  morality!  Let  him  who  coolly  con- 
troverts the  difHnction  between  moral  good  and  evil,  and 
who,  inftigated  by  vice  and  vanity,  boldly  fights  againlt 
the  religion  of  Jefus,  and  the  comfortable  doctrines  of 
grace  and  redemption,  repair  to  the  cells  of  the  convict, 
to  the  condemned  hole,  and  fpend  the  midnight  hour 
with  the  murderer  who  is  doomed  to  fall  a  vidim  on  the 
morrow  to  the  jutfice  of  his  country.  Ah  !  little  think, 
the  conceited  fophiits  who  fit  calmly  at  their  defks,  and 
teach  men  to  laugh  at  all  that  is  ferious  and  facred,  to 
what  an  abyfs  of  mifery  the  actual  practice  of  their  fpe- 
culative  opinions  will  reduce  the  poor  loll  child  of  fallen, 
/\d,Tm  !  Jf  they  thought  on  this  and  poflefled  hearts  ca- 
pable of  feeling,  they  would  fhudder  at  the  tendency  cf 
their  writings,  and  henceforth  employ  their  abilities  in, 
reftoring  human  nature  to  happincfs  and  dignity. 

The 


«6o  ESSAYS,  No.  147. 

The  evils  arifing  from  the  poverty  of  the  lower 
Tanks  are  trifling,  when  compared  with  thofe  occa- 
iioned  by  their  depravity.  There  is,  indeed,  no  real 
and  fubitantial  happinefs  of  which  poverty,  when 
accompanied  with  health  and  innocence,  is  not  capable  ; 
but  wallowing  in  vice,  involved  in  the  perplexities  of 
fraud,  haunted  by  the  fears  of  detection,  and  diftrefled 
and  tormented  with  the  difeafes  of  intemperance,  it 
becomes  fuch  a  ftate  of  wretched nefs  and  wickednefs  as 
can  only  bs  exceeded  in  the  regions  of  infernal  torture. 
And  can  the  rulers  of  this  world  pofiefs  a  plenitude 
of  power  without  attempting  to  exert  it  in  its  fulled 
force  in  the  prevention,  or  at  leaft  the  mitigation,  of 
extreme  mifery  among  the  loweft,  the  moft  numerous, 
and  perhaps  the  moft  ufeful  members  of  the  commu- 
nity ?  I  have  no  eP.e>m  for  that  fpecies  of  politics 
which  pretends  to  purfue  a  national  good  independently 
of  the  happinefs  of  individuals  ;  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking,  a  fyftem  of  government  which  derives  any 
part  of  its  wealth  from  the  wretchednefs  of  the  greater 
part  of  its  fubjecls,  not  only  defective  but  diabolical. 
To  encourage  intoxication  for  the  fake  of  encreafmg 
a  revenue,  though  it  may  be  natural  in  a  confede.ncy 
of  (harpers,  is  an  idea  fo  mean,  fo  bafe,  fo  cruel,  that 
the  ftatefman  who  entertains  it,  however  loaded  with 
jcivil  honours,  and  renowned  for  his  wifdom,  deferves  to 
be  ftigmatized  with  immortal  infamy.  That  the  vices 
and  miferies  of  the  lower  claffes  chiefly  arife  from 
the  multiplication  of  houfes  of  public  entertainment, 
is  a  truth  which  none  have  ever  controverted.  And 
perhaps  no  effectual  and  permanent  remedy  can  be 
applied,  without  the  interpofition  of  the  legislature,  in 
leitening  the  number  of  public  houfes,  and  in  exacting 
a  ftridl  fcrutiny  into  the  characters  of  thofe  to  whom  l'*- 
cences  are  allowed. 

But  in  the  prefent  conftitution  o-f  affairs,  it  is  greatly 
to  be  feared,  that  the  defire  of  raifing  a  large  revenue 
will  ufually  fuperfede  all  moral  confiderations.  What, 
indeed,  is  the  moraliit  to  the  financier?  The  greatnefs 
of  empire,  like  that  of  private  life,  is  for  the  moft 
part  eftimated  by  riches,  exclufively  of  private  virtue 
and  of  intellectual  excellence.  If  then  we  vainly  appeal 


No.  147.  MORAL,    &c.  261 

to  the  legiflature,  we  muft  feek,  in  other  refources,  for 
the  alleviation  of  a  difeafe  which  perhaps  the  legiflature 
alone  can  radically  cure. 

Now  it  is  certain,  that  much  of  the  profligacy  of 
the  plebeian  order  arifes  from  extreme  ignorance.  All 
men  purfue  with  ardour  the  pofleffion  of  fome  good, 
real  or  imaginary.  What  is  it  which  muft  conftitute 
this  good,  and  appear  fuperior  to  all  other  objecls,  in 
the  mind  of  a  wretch  born  in  a  cellar  or  a  garret  of 
Kent-ftreet,  or  Broad  St.  Giles's,  almoft  ftarved  with 
cold  and  hunger  during  his  infancy,  beaten,  reviled, 
abufed,  negle&edwhileaboy,  and  conduced  to  manhood 
amidft  the  moft  mocking  examples  of  cruelty  and  fraud, 
of  drunkennefs  and  debauchery  ?  Is  it  probable  that, 
for  the  moft  part,  he  mould  have  an  idea  of  any  other 
good  but  the  pofleflion  of  money,  and  the  indulgence 
of  the  groffeft  fenfuality?  Can  he  have  any  principles 
or  habits  of  virtue  to  reftrain  him  from  fecret  fraud 
and  open  violence?  His  underftanding  is  no  lefs  rude 
and  uncultivated  than  that  of  the  favage,  and  becomes 
at  laft  incapable  of  admitting  any  inftrudlion  but  in  tha 
low  tricks  of  a  thief,  and  the  artifices  of  a  proftitute. 
The  world  exifts  not  to  him,  but  as  it  appears  amidft  the 
vileft,  the  moft  degenerate,  and  the  moft  ignorant  of 
the  human  race.  He  purfues  nfummum  bonum,  or  a  chief 
good,  which  appears  to  him  to  confift  in  feizing  the 
property  of  the  incautious,  and  in  ufmg  his  gains  as 
the  inftrument  of  indulgence  in  brutal  excefs.  Poor 
unfortunate  brother  !  for  a  brother  we  muft  acknowledge 
thee,  deformed  as  thou  art  with  rags,  and  loathfome 
to  the  eye  of  delicacy.  — Haplefs  boy  !  if  thou  hadft 
Jknown  purer  pleafures  and  better  objects,  thou  would  ft 
probably  have  fought  them  with  the  fame  eagernefs 
which  has  brought  thee  to  the  gibbet.  The  dignified 
ilatefman,  the  venerable  bimop,  the  authoritative 
judge  who  tries  and  who  condemns  thee  to  die,  might 
probably  have  done  as  thou  haft,  and  fuffered  as  thou 
itiffereft,  had  he  been  born  as  thou  waft  born,  the 
child  of  mifery,  the  out-caft  of  fociety  ;  friendlefs, 
homelefs,  unbeloved,  unregarded,  unknown,  and  un- 
knowing of  the  means  and  motives  of  an  honeft  in- 
duftry.  Thou  falleft  a  victim  to  the  laws  indeed,  and 

perhaps 


-62  E     S  .  S     A     y     S,  No.  147, 

perhaps  a  jufl  victim  ;  but  I  will  pity  thee,  my  heart 
fliall  bleed  for  thee,  and  venture  (till  to  predict,  that  the 
iweet  mercy  of  Heaven  will  mitigate  the  feverity  of  hu- 
man juittcc. 

•    He  who  can  enjoy  the  pleafures  of  affluence  without 
conlidering  the  miiery  of  the  lower  claflc-s,  and  endea- 
vouring, according  to    his   influence   and   abilities,  to 
alleviate   the    burthen,  probably   poffefles  a  difpofuion 
which   no   riches    can    render  happy.     Charity  is  cha- 
racteriflic  of  this  country,  and  is,  indeed,   the  natural 
effect  of  Britifh  generofuy.     Our  clergy  are  conitantly 
recommending  it  in   the    metropolis ;    and    the   many 
palaces  of  the  poor  which  lift  up  their  roofs  around  if, 
are    eminent    and    honourable    testimonies,    that  their 
preaching  is  not  in  vain  when  they  recommend  munifi- 
cence.    There   are,   however,  few  charitable  eitablifh- 
ments  that  fo  immediately  tend  to  fnatch  the  loweit  claflbs 
from    wretchednefs    and   ruin    as    that    of   the  Marine 
Society  ;  and  if  my  praife  could  contribute   to  effect 
it,    the    fame  of  its    infHtutors    mould    be   immortal. 
But  their   own    benevolent  hearts,    and    that  God,   in 
whofe   gracious   purpofes   they  co-operate,  are  able  to 
beftow  on  them  a  reward  infinitely  fuperior  to  all  hu- 
rnnn  glory. 

They  who  inform  the  understandings  of  the  poor, 
in  fuch  a  manner  and  degree  as  to  amend  their  morals, 
contribute  more  to  their  happinefs  than  the  moil:  mu- 
nificent among  their  pecuniary  benefactors.  In  a  great 
and  commercial  nation  honeft  induftry  will  fci'Jom 
be  destitute  of  employment  and  reward.  And  here 
I  cannot  help  remarking  the  fingular  utility  and  import- 
ance of  the  clergy.  The  church-doors  are  open  to  all  ; 
and  valuable  initruction  in  every  duty  of  human  life 
is  afforded  gratuitoufly.  Our  Saviour,  who  knew  and 
felt  for  the  wretchednefs  of  the  lower  claffes,  feems  to 
have  defigned  the  gofpel,  in  a  peculiar  manner,  for  the 
poor;  and  the  poor  of  this  country  have  the  gofpel 
preached  to  them,  if  they  are  willing  to  liften  to  ir,  in 
every  part  of  the  kingdom.  But  it  is  a  melancholy 
truth,  that  the  poor  in  general,  but  efpecially  thofe  of 
the  metropolis,  neglect  to  avail  themfelves  cf  this 
fingular  and  unfpeakable  advantage.  Thofe  among 

them 


No.  147.  MORAL,      &c.  263 

them  who  give  any  attention  to  religion,  are  often 
Jed  to  a  itate  approaching  to  lunacy,  by  illiterate  and 
fanatical  pretenders  to  heavenly  illumination, 

1  venture  to  affirm  then,  that  more  weight  and 
authority  mould  be  given  to  the  regular  clergy,  whe- 
ther drflenters  or  on  the  eftablifliment.  I  mean  not  to 
erec"l  a  fpiritual  tyranny,  for  I  abhor  all  tyranny;  but 
I  wifh  thnt  fome  mode  fhould  be  devifed  for  rendering 
the  regular  clergy  more  rcfpeclable  than  they  new 
are  in  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar.  And  I  (houid  imagine 
the  moil  effectual  method  of  accomplishing  this  purpofe 
is,  to  reward  thofe  who  are  eminently  diitinguifhed 
for  piety  and  for  their  parochial  labours,  with  thofe 
preferments,  and  with  thofe  honours,  which,  in  the 
eye  of  reafon  and  of  God,  are  jullly  their  due.  In  the 
prefent  Itate  of  things,  the  worthy  curate,  who  fpends 
all  his  days  in  preaching,  praying,  and  in  vifiting  the 
fick,  fhall  earn  lefs,  and  be  lefs  refpecled  than  a 
fmith  and  a  carpenter  ;  and  at  his  oe;.th  leave  his  wi- 
dow and  his  children  to  the  cold  prutivtion  of  charity. 
But  a  young  rake,  who  happens  to  be  coufui  to  a  lord 
or  a  bifhop,  or  to  be  connected  with  thofe  who  have 
influence  at  an  cleftion,  fhall  get  himieH '  blackai  ever 
or  japanned,  as  he  vulgarly  phrafes  it,  at  an  ordination, 
and  thenceforward  be  preferred  to  pluralities,  and  fliine, 
as  a  fenfible  author  obiervcs,  in  all  public -places  but  his 
own  pulpits. 

But,  after  all  that  the  clergy  can  do,  even  when 
abufcs  are  removed,  it  is  to  be  fe.;ml  that  the  lower 
clan>s  will  be  led  by  the  examples  of  the  higher.  But 
oh  !  ye  who  call  yourfelves  the  great,  condefcend  once 
in  your  lives  to  vifit  a  goal,  and  to  furvey  the  man- 
fions  of  woe  and  wickednefs  in  the  out-fkirts  of  the 
town  !  I  apply  not  to  your  purfes ;  you  are  liberal  in 
fubfcribing  to  all  kinds  of  charitable  institutions.  Ye 
do  well.  But  give  me  leave  to  tell  yen,  that  the  fettingof 
a  good  example  to  the  lower  clafies,  confidered  merely 
as  an  acl  of  charity,  will  do  more  good,  and  prevent 
more  mifery,  than  if  ye  cut  down  your  lail  oak,  or  give 
all  yew  in  at  the  gaming  table,  to  found  an  hofpital  or 
eftablifh  a  difpenfary. 

No.  CXLVIII. 


264.  ESSAYS,  No.  148, 


No.  CXLVIII.  ON  SOME  PASSAGES  IN  ARIS- 
TOTLE'S RHETORIC,  WITH  MISCELLANEOUS 
REMARKS  ON  HIS  STYLE,  GENIUS,  AND 
WORKS. 


ARISTOTLE  eftablifhed  an  intelle&ual  empire, 
more  glorious  and  univerfal  than  the  conquells  of 
his  pupil.  But  he  is  a  remarkable  inftance  of  the  ca- 
price of  human  judgment  and  the  revolutions  of  tafte. 
After  having  been  idolized  with  a  veneration  almoft 
blafphemous,  he  is  now  moft  undefervedly  neglected. 
And  yet  his  works,  though  unentertaining  and  obfcure 
to  the  reader  who  perufes  them  with  the  fame  attention 
which  he  gives  to  a  novel  and  a  newfpaper,  abound 
with  matter  which  cannot  fail  to  enrich  the  mind,  and 
to  delight  a  philofophical  tafte  by  its  beautiful  truth  and 
accuracy.  In  his  three  books  on  the  rhetorical  art,  are 
many  paflages,  which  defcribe  human  nature  in  the  moft 
<urious  manner,  and  with  the  greateft  fidelity  of  deli- 
neation. He  characterizes  the  manners  of  different  ages 
no  lefs  fcientifically,  than  a  Hunter  would  defcribe  an 
anatomical  fubjeft,  or  a  Linnaeus  a  plant.  The  fine 
pictures  of  the  manners  of  young  and  old  men  in  the  fe- 
cond  book,  are  fuch  as  Horace  has  imitated,  but  not 
equalled  ;  fuch  as  might  have  richly  fertilized  the  ima- 
gination of  a  bhakefpeare.  The  celebrated  fpeech  of 
Jaques,  is  not  equal  to  the  accurate  and  complete  de- 
icriptions  of  the  manners  of  different  ages  in  the  life  of 
man  by  the  neglected  Ariftotle. 

The  clofe,  yet  comprehenfive  language  of  Ariftotle, 
will  fcarcely  admit  of  a  literal  translation.  I  mall  not 
then  attempt  to  deliver  his  fentiments  in  Englifh,  fince 
I  fhould  not  fatisfy  myfelf ;  but  I  will  refer  the  young 
ftudent  to  the  admirable  original,  where,  in  the  four- 
teenth, and  a  few  fubfequent  chapters  of  the  fecond 
book,  he  will  be  able  to  acquire  a  very  accurate  know- 
ledge of  human  nature. 

4  I  hnv« 


No.  148.  M   O   R   A   L,     &c.  265 

I  have  fele&eJ  thefc  paflages  as  a  fpecimen  of  Ariilotle, 
with  an  intention  to  obviate  the  prepoilefiions  of  thofe 
who  imagine,  that  every  part  of  his  works  is  abflrufe  and 
difficult  of  comprehenfion.  A  good  tranflation  would 
be  the  beft  commentary  that  could  be  given  of  them  ; 
but  he  who  was  the  belt  qualified  to  perform  ic  in  per- 
fection is  now  no  more.  It  is,  indeed,  much  to  be  la- 
mented, that  the  great  philofopher  of  Salifbury  did  not 
condefcend  to  enrich  his  country  with  a  tranflation  of 
the  beil  among  the  works  of  his  admired  Stagirite.  Mr. 
Harris's  Ityle  is,  indeed,  for  the  molt  part,  the  ftyle  of 
Plato  ;  but  we  may  conclude  from  the  many  paffkges 
from  Ariitotle,  which  he  has  moft  accurately  tranflated 
in  his  notes,  that  he  would  have  rendered  whole  treatifes 
in  Engiifh  to  the  gre..teft  advantage.  He  has,  however, 
caufed  the  want  of  a  tranflation  of  Ariftotle  to  be  lefs 
felt,  by  fupplying  fuch  originals  himfelfas  certainly  vie 
with  his  Grecian  mailer. 

I  cannot  help  remarking,  that  though  this  is  an  age  in 
which  many  ingenious  authors  delight  in  metaphyfical 
refearches,  yet  few  attend  to  the  writings  of  Ariftotle. 
jiuieed,  many  of  the  French  philofophers,  who  have  done 
all  they  can  to  obfcure  the  light  of  nature,  common 
icnfc,  and  revelation,  by  the  clouds  of  metaphyfics,  have 
not  been  ftifficiently  acquainted  with  Greek,  or  with  aa- 
tient  learning,  to  be  able  to  improve  themfelves  by  the 
fine  philofophy  of  the  poliflied  ages  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
Like  fpiders  in  a  dark  and  dirty  corner,  they  have  drawn 
{linuy  cobwcbi  from  themfelves,  with  which  they  cruelly 
endeavour  to  enfnare  the  giddy  and  unwary. 

It  L  indeed  my  misfortune,  if  it  be  a  misfortune,  to 
have  no  great  idea  of  the  utility  of  metaphyikal  difqui- 
fition.  And  though  Ariftotle's  logic  and  metaphyfics 
principally  contributed,  in  the  middle  ages,  to  render 
him  the  idol  of  the  world,  I  cannot  help  confidering 
them  as  the  leait  ufeful  parts  of  his  various  lucubrations. 
Ti-.v-y  are,  indeed,  valuable  curiofitries,  and  illuario^s 
monuments  of  human  ingenuiry ;  but  at  the  fame  time, 
when  compared  to  his  rhetorical,  ethical,  and  political 
books,  they  are  as  the  hufk  and  the  fliell  to  the  pulp  and 
the  kernel.  It  was  thefe,  however,  together  with  his  er- 
roneous phyfics,  which  induced  the  bigoted  theologiils  to 
•  II.'  N  ,  number 


266  ESSAY    S,  No.  148. 

number  Ariftotle  among  the  faints  in  the  calendar,  and 
to  publifh  a  hiftory  of  his  life  and  death  ;  which  con- 
cluded with  afTerting,  that  Ariftotle  was  the  forerunner 
of  Chrilt  in  philofophy,  as  John  the  Baptift  had  been  in 
Grace.  Images  of  him  and  of  the  founder  of  chriftiani- 
ty  were  beheld  at  one  time  with  equal  veneration.  It 
is  faid,  that  fome  feels  taught  their  difciples  the  catego- 
ries inftead  of  the  catechifm,  and  read  in  the  church  a 
feftion  of  the  ethics  inftead  of  a  chapter  in  the  gofpel. 

If  the  exclamation  which  he  is  related  to  have  made 
at  his  death  be  true,  he  appears  to  have  pofTefled  very 
rational  ideas  on  the  fubjeft  of  religion. 

A  chriftiah  might  have  faid,  as  it  is  reported  he  faid, 
juft  before  his  diffolution,  "  In  fin  and  (harne  was  I  born, 
"  in-forrow  have  I  lived,  in  trouble  I  depart ;  O  !  thou 
"  Caufe  of  caufes,  have  mercy  upon  me  !" — 1  found  this 
anecdote  of  Ariftotle  in  the  Centuries  of  Camerarius, 
but  I  am  not  certain  of  its  authenticity. 

The  ftyle  of  Ariftotle  has  been  cenfured  as  harm  and 
inelegant;  but  it  muft  be  remembered,  that  few  works, 
of  which  fo  much  remains,  are  fuppofed  to  have  fuffered 
more  from  the  carelefnefs  or  prefumption  of  tranfcribers, 
and  the  injuries  of  long  duration,  than  the  works  of  the 
great  legiflator  of  tafte  and  philofophy.  We  may  fairly 
attribute  any  chafms  and  roughneffes  in  the  ftyle  to  fome 
rude  hand,  or  to  accident.  Strabo,  indeed,  relates,  that 
the  works  of  Ariftotle  were  greatly  injured  by  damps,  as 
they  were  buried  in  the  earth  a  long  time  after  the  death 
of  their  writer.  When  they  were  brought  to  Rome,  and 
tranfcribed,  they  were  again  injured  by  the  hand  of  ig- 
norance. It  is  not  credible  that  fo  accurate  a  writer 
fhould  have  neglecled  thofe  graces  of  ftyle  which  the 
nature  of  his  fubjecls  admitted.  The  ftyle  of  his  beft 
works  is  truly  pure  and  Attic;  and  Quintilian,  whofe 
judgment  ought  to  decide,  exprefles  a  doubt  whether  he 
ihould  pronounce  him  more  illuftrious  for  his  know- 
ledge, his  copioufnefs,  his  acumen,  his  variety,  or  the 
Cweetnefs  of  his  elocution. 


No.  CXLIX. 


No.  i  if;  MORAL,    &c.  ±67 


No.  CXLIX.  ON  THE  BEAUTY  AND  HAPPI- 
NESS OF  AN  OPEN  BEHAVIOUR  AND  AN  IN- 
GENUOUS DISPOSITION. 


A  Great  part  of  mankind,  if  they  cannot  furnift 
themfelves  with  the  courage  and  generofity  of  the 
lion,  think  themfelves  equally  happy,  and  much  wifer, 
with  the  pitiful  cunning  of  the  fox.     Every  word  they 
fpeak,  however  trivial  the  fubjeft,  is  weighed  before  it  is 
uttered.     A  difguftful  filence  is  obferved  till  fomebody 
of  authority  has  advanced  an  opinion,  and  then,  with  a 
civil  leer,  a  doubtful  and  he/hating  aflent  is  given,  fuch 
as  may  not  preclude  the  opportunity  of  a  fubfequent  re- 
traction.    If  the  converfation  turn  only  on  the  common 
topics,  of  the  weather,  the  news,  the  play,  the  opera, 
they  are  no  lefs  referved  in  uttering  their  opinion,  thart 
if  their  lives   and  fortunes  depended  on  the  fentiment 
they  mould  at  lait  venture,  with  oracular  dignity,  to  ad- 
vance.    Whatever  may  be  their  real  idea  on  the  fubjecT", 
as  truth   is   a  trifle  compared  to  the  objeft  of  pleafing 
thofe  with  whom  they  converfe,  they  generally  contrive 
gently  to  agree  with  you  ;  unlefs  it  mould  appear  to 
them,  on  mature  consideration,  that  their  opinion   (if 
contingencies  to  the   number  of  at  leaft  ten   thoufand 
mould  take  place)  may,  at  the  diftance  of  half  a  cen- 
tury, involve  them  in   fome  fmall  danger  of  giving  a 
little  offence,  or  of  incurring  a  trifling  embarraflment. 
They  wear  a  ccmftant  fmile  on  their  countenance,  and 
are  all  goodnefs  and  benevolence,  if  you  will   believe 
their  profeflions :  but   beware  ;  for   their  hearts  are  as 
dark  as  the  abyfl'es  which  conftitute   the  abodes  of  the 
evil  fpirit.     A  man  of  this  charartcr  nlger  eft,  as  Horace 
fays,  and  thou,  who  j'liHy  claimeft  the  title  of  an  ho- 
nell  Englimman,  be  upon  thy  guard  when  thine  ill  for-* 
tune  introduces  thee  into  his  company. 

Thefe  crafty  animals  are  even  more  referved,  cautious, 

timid,  and  fcrpemine,  in  aftion  tha»  in  converfation. 

N  2  They 


»6*  ESSAY     S,  No.  149, 

They  lay  the  deepeft  fchemes,  and  no  conclave  of  cardi- 
nals, no  combination  of  confpirators,  no  confederacy  of 
thieves,  ever  deliberated  with  more  impenetrable  fecrecy. 
Connections  are  fought  with  the  molt  painful  folicitude. 
No  arts  and  no  afficiuities  are  neglecled  to  obtain  the  fa- 
vour of  the  great.  Their  hearts  pant  with  the  utmofl 
anxiety  to  be  introduced  to  a  family  of  diitinclion  and 
opulence,  not  only  becaufe  the  connection  gratifies  their 
pride,  but  alfo  becaufe,  in  the  wonderful  complications 
and  viciflitudes  of  human  affairs,  it  may  one  day  prombte 
their  itvtereft.  .Alas!  before  that  day  arrives,  their  per- 
petual uneafinefs  has  ufually  put  a. period -to  their  ambi- 
tion, by  terminating  their  exiftence.  But  even  if  they 
gain  their  ends  after  a  youth  and  a  manhood  confumed 
in  conflant  care  and  fervitude,  yet  the  pleafure  is  not 
adequate  to  the  pain,  nor  the  advantage  to  the  labour. 
Every  one  is  ready  to  complain  of  the  fhortnefsof  life; 
to  fpend,  therefore,  the  gresteft  part  of  it  in  perpetual 
fear,  caution,  fufpence,  and  folicitude,  merely  to  accom- 
plish an  object  of  worldly  ambition  or  avarice  ;  what  is 
it  but  the  proverbial  folly  of  him  who  Jofes  a  pound  to 
iave  a  penny  ?  Give  me,  O  ye  powers !  an  ingenuous 
jnan  would  exclaim,  give  me  health  and  liberty,  with  a 
competence,  and  I  will  compaflionate  the  man  of  a  timid 
and  fervile  foul,  who  has  at  lad  crept  on  hands  and 
knees,  through  thick  and  thin,  into  a  Hall,  and  feated 
his  limbs,  after  they  have  been  paliied  with  care,  on  the 
bench  of  judges  or  of  bifhops. 

Indeed,  the  perpetual  agitation  of  fpirit5,  the  torment- 
ing fears,  and  the  ardent  hopes,  which  alternately  dif- 
orcler  the  bofom  of  the  fubtle  and  fufpicious  worldling, 
are  more  than  a  counterbalance  to  all  the  riches  and  titu- 
lar honours  which  fuccefsful  cunning  can  obtain.  What 
.avail  croziers,  coronets,  fortunes,  manlion-houfes,  parks, 
.and  equipages,  when  the  poor  poffeilbr  of  them  has  worn 
out  his  fenfibility,  ruined  his  nerves,  loft  his  eyes,  and 
perhaps  ftained  his  honour,  and  wounded  his  confcience, 
in  the  toilfome  drudgery  of  the  moft  abject  fervitude, 
from  his  youth  up  even  to  the  hoary  age  of  feeblenefs  and 
decrepitude  ?  When  a  man  has  a  numerous  offspring,  it 
may,  indeed,  be  generous  to  facrifice  his  own  eafe  and 
happinefs  to  their  advancement.  He  may  feel  a  virtuous 

pleafure 


No.  149.  MORAL,    &c.  269 

pleafure  in  his  conduct,  which  may  foothe  him  under 
every  circumftance  of  difagreeable  toil  or  painful  fub- 
r.iiiTion.  But  it  is  obvious  to  obferve,  that  the  moft  art- 
ful of  men,  and  the  greatest  flaves  tointereft  and  ambi- 
tion, are  frequently  unmarried  men  ;  and  that  they  were 
unmarried,  becaufe  their  caution  and  timidity  would 
never  permit  them  to  take  a  ftcp  which  could  never  be 
revoked.  Themfelves,  however  unamiable,  have  been 
the  only  objects  of  their  love  ;  and  the  relief  mankind 
have  been  made  ufe  of  merely  as  the  inftruments  of  tneir 
mean  purpofes  and  felfilh  gratifications.  But  the  relief 
mankind  need  not  envy  them,  for  they  inflict  on  thein- 
felves  the  punifhments  they  deferve.  They  are  always 
craving  and  never  fatisfied  ;  they  fuffer  a  torment  which 
is  juflly  reprefented  as  infernal ;  that  of  being  perpetu- 
ally reaching  after  blefiings  which  they  can  never  grafp, 
of  being  prohibited  to  talle  the  fruit  whofe  colour  ap- 
pears fo  charming  to  the  eye,  and  whofe  flavour  fo  de- 
licious to  the  imagination. 

How  lovely  and  how  happy,  on  the  other  hand,  an 
open  and  ingenuous  behaviour.  An  honeft,  unfufpicious 
heart  diffufes  a  ferenity  over  life  like  that  of  a  fine  day, 
when  no  cloud  conceals  the  blue  aether,  nor  a  blaft  rufiles 
the  ftillnefs  of  the  air; — but  a  crafty  and  defigning  bo- 
fom  is  all  tumult  and  darknefs,  and  may  be  faid  to  re- 
femble  a  mifty  and  difordered  atmofphere  in  the  comfort- 
lefs  climate  of  the  poor  Highlander.  The  one  raifes  a 
man  almoft  to  -the  rank  of  an  angel  of  light;  the  other 
finks  him  to  a  level  with  the  powers  of  darknef?. — The 
one  constitutes  a  terreftrial  heaven  in  the  breart;  the  other 
deforms  and  debafes  it  till  it  becomes  another  hell. 

An  open  and  ingenuous  difpofition  is  not  only  beau- 
tiful and  moli  conducive  to  private  happincfs,  but  pro- 
ductive of  many  virtues  efiential  to  the  welfare  of  focicty. 
What  is  fociety  without  confidence  t — But  if  the  felfifh 
ant!  mean  fyftem,  which  is  eltablimed  and  recommended 
among  many  whofe  advice  and  example  have  weight, 
faoiilii  univcrfally  prevail,  in  whom,  and  in  what  mall 
we  be  able  toconfide?  — It  is  already  mocking  to  a  liberal 
Blind  to  obferve,  what  a  multitude  of  papers,  parchment?, 
oaths,  and  folemn  engagements  are  required,  even  in  .1 
N  3  trivial 


27°  ESSAYS,  No.  149, 

trivial  negotiation.  On  the  contrary,  how  comfortable 
and  how  honourable  to  human  nature,  if  promifes  were 
bonds,  and  aflertions  affidavits.  What  pleafure,  and 
what  improvement  would  be  derived  from  converfation, 
if  every  one  would  dare  to  fpeak  his  real  fentiments, 
with  modelty  and  decorum  indeed,  but  without  any  un- 
manly fear  of  offending,  or  fervile  defire  to  pleafe  for 
the  fake  of  intereft.  To  pleafe  by  honeft  means,  and 
from  the  pure  motives  of  friendship  and  philanthropy, 
is  a  duty  ;  but  they  who  ftudy  the  art  of  pleafing  mere- 
ly for  their  own  fakes,  are,  of  all  characters,  thofe  which 
ought  leaft  to  pleafe,  and  which  appear,  when  the  mafque 
is  removed,  the  moft  difguftful.  Truth,  and  fimplicity 
of  manners,  are  not  only  effential  to  virtue  and  happi- 
jiefs,  but,  as  objects  of  tafte,  truly  beautiful.  Good 
minds  will  always  be  pleafed  with  them,  and  bad  minds 
tve  need  not  wifh  to  pleafe. 

Since  cunning  and  deceit  are  thus  odious  in  them- 
felves,  and  incompatible  with  real  happinefs  and  dig- 
nity, I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  thofe  inftruclors  of 
the  rifing  generation  who  have  infilled  on  Emulation  and 
diffimulation,  on  the  penjieri  Jlretti,  on  the  thoufand 
tricks  of  worldly  wifdom,  are  no  lefs  miftaken  in  their 
ideas,  than  mean,  contracted,  and  illiberal.  Liften  not, 
ye  generous  young  men,  whofe  hearts  are  yet  untainted, 
liften  not  to  the  delufive  advice  of  men  fo  deluded,  or 
fo  bafe.  Have  courage  enough  to  avow  the  fentiments 
of  your  fouls,  and  let  your  countenance  and  your  tongue 
be  the  heralds  of  your  hearts.  Pleafe,  confiftently  with 
truth  and  honour,  or  be  contented  not  to  pleafe.  Let 
juftice  and  benevolence  fill  your  bofom,  and  they  will 
ihine  fpontaneoufly,  like  the  real  gem  without  the  aid 
of  a  foil,  and  with  the  tnoft  durable  and  captivating 
brilliancy* 


NO.CL. 


No.  150.  MORAL,     &c.  271  , 


No.  CL.       A    REMEDY    FOR    DISCONTENT. 


COMPLAINTS  and  murmurs  are  often  loudeft  and 
moft  frequent  among  thofe  who  poflefs  all  the 
external  means  of  temporal  enjoyment.  Something  is 
ftill  wanting,  however  high  and  opulent  their  condition, 
fully  to  complete  their  fatisfaction.  Suppofe  an  indul- 
gent Providence  to  accomplifli  every  defire ;  are  they 
now  at  laft  contented  ?  Alas  !  no  ;  their  uneafinefs  feems 
for  ever  to  encreafe,  in  proportion  as  their  real  necef- 
fities  are  diminifhed.  It  is  in  vain  then  to  endeavour  to 
make  them  happy  by  adding  to  their  ftore,  or  aggran- 
dizing their  honours.  Their  appetite  is  no  lefs  infati- 
able  than  their  tafte  faftidious. 

But  there  may  yet  remain  a  remedy.  Let  thofe,  who 
are  miferable  amonc,  riches  and  grandeur,  reave,  for  a 
moment,  their  elevited  rank,  and  defcend  from  their 
palaces  to  the  humble  habitations  of  real  and  unaf- 
fedled  woe.  If  their  hearts  are  not  deftitute  of  feeling, 
they  will  return  from  the  fad  fcenes  to  their  clofets,  and 
on  their  knees  pour  forth  the  ejaculations  of  gratitude  to 
that  univerfal  Parent,  who  has  given  them  abundance, 
and  exempted  them  from  the  thoufand  ills,  under  the 
prefl'ure  of  which  the  greater  part  of  His  children  drag 
the  load  of  life.  Inflead  of  fpending  their  hours  in 
brooding  over  their  own  imaginary  evils,  they  will  de- 
vote them  to  the  alleviation  of  real  mifery  among  the 
dcftitute  fons  of  indigence,  in  the  neglected  walks  of 
vulgar  life. 

That  one  half  of  the  world  knows  not  how  the 
other  half  lives,  is  a  common  and  juft  obfervation. 
A  fine  lady,  furrounded  with  every  means  of  accommo- 
dation and  luxury,  complains  in  a  moment  of  ennui, 
that  furely  no  mortal  is  fo  wretched  as  herfelf.  Her 
fufferings  are  too  great  for  her  acute  fenfibility.  She 
expeifls  pity  from  all  her  acquaintance,  and  pleafes 
herfclf  with  the  idea  that  fhe  is  an  example  of  fingular 
misfortune,  and  remarkable  patience.  Phyficians  at- 
N  4  tend, 


272  ESSAY     S,  No.  isc, 

(end,  ard  with  affected  folicitude  feel  the  healthy  pulfe, 
which,  however,  they  dare  not  pronounce  healthy,  left 
they  mould  give  offence  by  attempting  to  fpoil  the 
refined  luxury  of  fancied  woe.  To  be  fuppofed  always 
ill,  and  confequently  to  be  always  exciting  the  feeder 
attention  and  enquiries  of  all  around,  is  a  ftate  fo 
charming  in  the  ideas  of  the  weak,  luxurious,  and 
indolent  minds  of  fome  falhionable  ladies,  that  many 
ipend  their  lives  in  a  perpetual  ftate  of  imaginary  con- 
valefcence.  There  is  fomething  fo  indelicate  in  being 
hale,  hearty,  and  ftout,  like  a  rofy  milk-maid,  that  a 
very  fine  and  very  high-bred  lady  is  almofi  ready  to  faint 
at  the  idea.  From  excefiive  indulgence,  me  becomes  at 
lalt  in  reality  what  me  at  firll  only  fancied  herfelf,  a 
perpetual  invalid.  By  a  juit  retribution,  me  is  really 
punimed  with  that  wretchednefs,  of  which  flie  ungrate- 
fully and  unreafonably  complained  in  the  midft  of 
health,  eafe,  and  opulence. 

Or,e  might  afk  all  the  fifterhood  and  fraternity  of 
rich  and  healthy  murmurers,  Have  you  compared 
your  fituaticn  and  circumftances  with  that  of  thofe  of 
your  fellow-creatures  who  are  condemned  to  labour  in 
the  gold  mines  cf  Peru  ?  Have  you  compared  your 
Situation  with  that  of  thofe  in  your  own  country,  who 
Lave  hardly  ever  feen  the  fun,  but  live  confined  in 
tin  mines,  lead  mines,  Hone  quarries,  and  coal  pits  ? 
Before  you  call  yourfelf  wretched,  take  a  furvey  of  the 
gaols,  in  which  unfortunate  and  honeft  debtors  are 
doomed  to  pine  for  life  ;  walk  through  the  wards  of  an 
hofpital  ;  think  of  the  hardfhips  of  a  common  foldier  or 
failor  ;  think  of  the  gal!ey-flave,  the  day-labourer  ;  nay, 
the  common  fervant  in  your  own  houfe  ;  think  of  ycur 
poor  neighbour  at  the  next  door  ;  and  if  there  were  not 
danger  of  its  being  called  unpolite  and  methodiitical, 
I  would  add,  think  of  Him  who,  for  your  fake,  Aveat- 
ed,  as  it  were,  drops  cf  blood  on  Calvary. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  duty  to  confider  the  evils  cf  thofe 
who  are  placed  beneath  us  ;  for  the  chief  purpofe  of 
chriflianity  is,  to  alleviate  the  miferies  cf  that  part  of 
mankind,  whom,  indeed,  the  world  defpifes  ;  but 
whom,  He  who  made  them,  pities,  like  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  own  children.  Their  miferies  are  not  fanci- 
ful, 


No.  150.  MORA   L,     &c.  273 

ful,  their  complaints  are  not  exaggerated.  The  clergy, 
when  they  are  called  upon  to  vific  the  fick,  or  to  bap- 
tize new-born  infants,  are  often  fpeclators  of  fuch  fcenes, 
as  would  cure  the  aiicontented  of  every  inalndy.  The 
following  representation  is  but  too  real,  and  may  be  pa- 
ralleled in  many  of  its  circumstances  in  almoit  every 
pariih  throughout  the  kingdom. 

The  rninifter  of  a  country  village  was  called  upon  to 
baptize  an  infant  jufl  born.  The  cottage  was  fituated 
on  a  lonely  common,  aixi  as-  it  was  in  the  midft  of 
the  winter,  and  the  floods  were  out,,  it  was  abfolutely 
seceflary  to  wade  through  the  lower  room  to  a  ladder, 
which  ferved  in  (lead  of  flairs.  The  chamber  (acd  it 
was  the  only  one)  was  fo  low,  that  you  could  not  Hand 
upright  in  it ;  there  was  one  window  which  admitted  air 
as  freely  as  light,  for  the  rags  which  had  been  fluffed 
into  the  brokenr  panes  were  now  taken  out  to  contri- 
bute to  the  covering,  of  the  infant.  In  a  dark  corner 
of' the  room  Hood  a  fmall  bedflead  without  furniture, 
and  on  it  lay  the  dead  mother,  who  had  juft  expired  in 
labour  for  want  of  affiflance.  The  father  was  fitting  on  a 
little  itool  by  the  fire-place,  though  there  was  no  fire, 
arid  endeavouring  to  keep  the  infant  warm  in  his  bo- 
fom.  Five  of  the  feven  children,  half  naked,  were  afk- 
ing  their  father  for  a  piece  of  bread,  while  a  fine  boy,  of 
about  three  years  old,  was  Handing  by  his  mother  at  the 
bed-fide,  and  crying,  as  he  was  wont  to  do,  "  Take  me, 
"  take  me,  mammy." — "  Mammy  is  aileep,"  faid  one 
of  his  filters,  with  two  tears  flanding  on  her  cheeks  ; 
"  mammy  is  afleep,  Johnny,  go  play  with  the  baby  on 
"  daddy's  knee."  The  father  took  him  up  on  his  knee, 
and  his  grief,  which  had  hitherto  kept  him  dumb,  and 
in  a  itate  of  temporary  infenlibility,  bnrfl  out  in  a 
I  of  tears,  arid  reHeved  his  heart,  which  teemed 
ready  to  break..  "  Don't  cry,  pray  don't  cry,"  faid  the 
eldeft  boy,  "  the  nurfe  is  coming  up  ituirs  with  a  two- 
"  penny  loaf  in  her  hand,  an*d  mammy"  will"  wake  pre- 
"  iently,  and  I  will  carry  her  the  large'l  piece."  Upon 
this,  an  old  woman,  crocked  with  age,  and  xrlothed  in 
tatters,  came  hobbling  on  her  little  Kick  into. the 
room,  and,  after  heaving  a  groan,  calmly  fat  down, 
drefled  the  child  in  its  ra^3  ;  then  divided  tb«  loaf  r.s 
K  5 


274  ESSAYS,  No.  151. 

far  as  it  would  go,  and  informed  the  poor  man  that 
the  churchwardens,  to  whom  Ihe  had  gone,  would  fend 
fome  relief,  as  foon  as  they  had  difpatched  a  naughty 
baggage  to  her  own  parifh,  who  had  delivered  herfelf 
of  twins  in  the  Efquire's  hovel.  Relief  indeed  was 
fent,  and  a  little  contribution  afterwards  raifed  by  the 
anterpofition  of  the  minifter.  If  he  had  not  feen  the 
cafe,  it  would  have  pafTed  on  as  a  common  affair,  and 
a  thing  of  courfe. 

Minifters  and  medical  practitioners  are  often  witnefles 
to  fcenes  even  more  wretched  than  this ;  where,  to 
poverty,  cold,  nakednefs,  and  death,  are  added,  the 
languors  of  lingering  and  loathfome  difeafes,  and  the 
torments  of  excruciating  pain.  A  feeling  heart  among 
the  rich  and  the  great,  who  are  at  the  fame  time  que- 
ru-lous  without  caufe,  would  learn  a  leffon  in  many  a 
garret  of  Broad  St.  Giles's  or  Shoreditch,  more  effica- 
cious than  all  the  leftures  of  the  moral  or  divine  phi- 
lofopher. 

I  cannot  help  mentioning  and  applauding  a  mode 
of  charity  of  late  much  encouraged  in  this  metropolis, 
which  is  indeed  diftinguifhed  above  all  others  for  the 
xvifdom  and  variety  of  its  eleemofynary  inftitutions. 
Difpenfaries  are  eftablifhed  for  the  poor,  and  patients 
vifited  at  their  own  habitation  by  phyficians  of  allowed 
fkill  and  diftinguifhed  character.  I  will  only  take  the 
liberty  to  exprefs  a  wifli,  that  fome  regulations  may  be 
made  to  prevent  this  noble  defign  from  being  perverted, 
like  many  others,  to  purpofes  of  private  intereft. 


No.  CLI.  ON  THE  UTILITY  OF  RELIGIOUS 
CEREMONIES,  AND  OF  ADMITTING  MUSIC 
AND  EXTERNAL  MAGNIFICENCE  IN  PLACES- 
OF  DEVOTION. 

IF  all  men  were  enlightened  by  education  and  phi- 
•  lofophy,  and  at  all  hours  actuated  by  the  principles 
of  reafon,  it  would  be  unnecefTary  to  have  recourfe  to 
external  objefts  in  producing  devout  and  virtuous  affec- 


Nb'.  151.  MORA  L,    &c.  275 

tions.  But  as  there  muft  always  be  a  great  majority, 
who,  from  the  want  of  opportunities  or  capacities  for  im- 
provement, are  weak  and  ignorant;  and  as  even  among 
the  wife  and  learned  there  are  none  who  are  conftantly 
exempted  from  the  common  infirmities  of  human  nature, 
it  becomes  expedient  to  devife  modes  of  operating  on  the 
foul  through  the  medium  of  the  fenfes.  It  was  for  this 
reafon,  that  in  all  great  communities  the  officers  and  of- 
fices of  religion  have  been  furrounded  with  whatever  is 
calculated  to  roufe  the  attention,  to  intereft  the  heart,  . 
to  ftrike  the  eye,  and  to  elevate  the  imagination. - 

I  cannot  help  thinking,  therefore,  that  thofe  well- 
meaning  reformers,  who  wim  to  divert  religion  of  exter- 
nal fplendour,  are  unacquainted  with  the  nature  of  man, 
or  influenced  by  narrow  motives.  They  mean,  perhaps, 
to  fpiritualize  every  thing,  and  the  purpofe  is  laudable  ; 
but  they  know  not,  or  they  confider  not,  that  ordinary 
fpirits,  fuch  as  are  thofe  of  the  vicious  and  vulgar,  are  • 
moft  eafily  and  effectually  touched  by  the  inftrumentality 
of  exterior  and  material  objects.  He  who  wifhes  to  pe- 
netrate to  the  recefles  of  the  vulgar  foul,  will  fucceed 
better  by  the  co-operation  of  the  eyes  and  the  ears,  than  • 
merely  by  addreffing  the  rational  faculty. 
-  An  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  potency  of  founds  and 
fights,  unaffifted  by  reafon,  if  we  contemplate  their  effect 
in  war.  The  drum,  the  fife,  the  habiliments  of  a  fol- 
dier,  the  flag,  and  all  the  pomp  and  parade  of  military 
tran factions,  contribute,  perhaps,  more  than  any  fenfe - 
of  duty,  or  any  native  or  acquired  fentiments  of  bravery, 
to  lead  on  the  embattled  phalanx  even  to  the  cannon's 
mouth.  It  is  fomething  operating  in  the  mind  in  a  fi- 
milar  manner,  which  molt  eafily  bows  the  ftubborn  knees 
of  the  hardened  offender,  and  fubdues  to  foftnefs  thfr- 
fleely  heart  on  which  no  force  of  argument  could  of  it- 
felf  ftamp  an  impreflion.  There  are  few  who  cannot 
hear  or  fee,  but  many  who  cannot  underftand.  All  can 
feel  a  powerful  itroke  on  the  fancy  or  paflions,  but  few, 
in  comparifon,  are  affeded  by  a  fyllogifm. 

Mufic,  therefore,  poetry,  painting,  and  architecture, 

may  very  rcafonably  be  aflbciated   as  auxiliaries  of  an 

tmprefs,  whofe  f objects  are  rebellious.     And  I  cannot 

help  thinking,  that  they  who  repudiate  all  ornament, 

N  6.  and.. 


276  ESSAYS,  No.  151; 

and  all  the  modes  of  affecting  the  fenfes  of  the  vulgar  in 
the  offices  of  religion  gs  indecent,  impious,  or  improper, 
do  not  recoiled  the  temple  of  Solomon,  but  fuffer  their 
good  fenfe  to  be  overpowered  in  this  inftance  by  the 
zeal  of  a  barbarous  fanaticifm. 

The  offices  of  religion  where  mufic  and  artificial  em- 
bellimments  are  admitted,  become  fo  alluring,  that  thofe 
who  would  never  think  of  their  more  ieriuus  duties, 
are  often  invited  by  them  to  the  church,  and  gradually 
converted.  Like  the  rake  of  antiquity,  who  mingled 
in  the  audience  of  a  philofopher  with  a  defign  to  ri- 
dicule him,  but  who  was  made  a  convert  before  his  de- 
parture, many  of  the  loofe  and  profligate  votaries  of 
vice,  have  been  enticed  by  the  mufic,  and  afterwards 
reformed  by  the  fermon,  which  they  intended  to  flight, 
and  perhaps  to  deride. 

The  proceffions  and  pompous  formalities  of  religion, 
however  exploded  in  the  warmth  of  reformation  as  pa- 
piftical  reliques,  are  certainly  ufeful  in  the  community, 
when  they  are  not  fuftered  to  exceed  the  bounds  of  mo- 
deration. They  were  eiteemed  and  obferved  in  antient 
Athens  and  antient  Rome,  by  thofe  who  loved  and  en- 
joyed liberty  in  its  fulleft  extent.  They  were  found  to 
aggrandize  the  majefly  of  empire,  to  ir.fpire  a  generous 
enthufiafm  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  10  furniih 
them  with  an  amufement,  not  only  innocent  and  im- 
proving, but  attended  with  a  very  high  and  fatisfatflory 
pleafure.  None  can  deleft  popery  more  than  myfelf ; 
but  yet  it  appears  to  me,  that  many  of  the  fplendid 
snd  auguft  fcenes  which  that  perfuafion  admits,  are 
highly  ufeful,  if  confidered  only  as  furnifhing  a  harm- 
lefs  entertainment  to  the  lower  order?  of  mankind.  What 
charms  can  a  London  carman,  chairman,  hackney- 
coachman,  fiftnvoman,  find  in  an  Englifh  meeting  or  a 
church  ?  but  they  would  be  delighted,  and  very  power* 
fully  affedled  with  the  grandeur  and  folemnity  of  a  Re- 
mifh  proceffion.  As  we  have  no  allurements  adapted  to 
their  ignorant  and  rude  minds,  they  fpend  the  Sunday  at 
an  alehoufe,  even  at  the  next  door  to  the  church,  without 
a  wifh  to  enter  the  confecrated  place.  All  that  paffes 
there  is  above  their  comprehenfion.  They  are  but  little 
removed  from  the  flate  of  the  brutes,  and  they  rault  re- 


No.  152.  MORAL,     &c.  277 

main  fo  ;  for  there  is  nothing,  in  the  only  places  in 
which  they  have  an  opportunity  of"  initrudion,  to  ftrike 
their  imaginations,  and  penetrate  through  the  paflage 
of  the  fenfes  to  the  dormant  foul. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  we  admit  mufic  in  the  eita- 
bliihed  church  ;  but  it  is  alfo  true,  that  it  is  in  general 
a  kind  of  mufic  which  is  little  better  than  difcord  to  the 
vulgar  ear.  For  in  the  metropolis,  where  organs  are 
chiefly  to  be  found,  the  performers  are  too  fend  of 
(hewing  thoir  powers  of  execution,  raid  feldom  play 
thofe  liinple  tunes  which  can  alone  affect  the  minds  of 
the  fimple  and  uninformed. 

There  has  been  much  converfation  on  the  fuhjedl  of 
adorning  St.  Paul's  cathedral  with  the  productions  of  tire 
pencil.  Many  artilts,  it  is  laid,  have  offered  to  contri- 
bute the  efforts  of  their  ingenuity.  Some  fcruples  have 
arifen  to  impede  the  defign.  In  this  age  they  cannot 
be  puritanical.  I  really  think  that  judicious  paintings 
\vculd  produce  a  defirable  effecl  on  the  morals  of  the  low- 
er clafles,  But  if  painting  is  not  to  be  admitted,  there 
furely  can  be  no  objection  to  fcuJpture.  \Veftminfler- 
Abbey  is  crowded  with  monuments  ;  and  I  will  venture 
to  predict,  that  our  pofteriey  will  fee  St.  Paul's  equalty 
honoured.  I  hope  the  event  will  not  take  place  fo  late 
as  to  exclude  fuch  artifts  as  Bacon*  or  if  painting  is  ad- 
mitted, fuch  as  Reynolds,  Weft,  and  Romney. 


No.      CLII.         ON     THE     PRESENT    STATE     OF 
PARLIAMENTARY    ELOQUENCE. 


IN  taking  a- view  of  parliamentary  eloquence,  I  mean 
to  confider  it  as  totally  independent  of  party  and  po- 
litics, and  folely  as  a  fubjecl  of  literary  taite.  It  mull 
be  a  peculiar  narrownefs  of  fpirit  which  bellows  or  re- 
fufes  applaufe  to  the  productions  of  genius,  bccaufe  they 
are  found  to  favour  either  a  court  or  an  oppofition.  I 
would  allow  an  equal  mare  of  praife  to  equal  genius, 
whether  it  appeared  in  a  leader  of  the  minority,  or  in 
the  firlt  minifter  of  Itate* 

The 


27«  ESSAYS,  No.  i5z.' 

The  fpeeches  from  the  throne  are  little  more  than  the 
formalities  of  office.  It  would  be  unreafonable  to  expect 
in  them  the  fire,  the  pathos,  the  argument  of  genuine  and 
animated  oratory.  They  poflefs  an  air  of  dignity  highly 
proper  and  characteriftical.  They  breathe  a  fpirit  of 
Sincerity  and  paternal  tendernefs,  which  at  once  marks 
the  judgment  of  the  compofer,  and  endears  the  fpeaker 
to  his  people.  There  was  one  on  the  commencement  of 
the  war  with  America,  .which  deferves  to  be  felected  as  a 
very  fpirited  and  memorable  harangue.  It  would  have 
adorned  the  page  of  a  Livy.  "  The  refolutions  of  par- 
"  liament,"  fays  his  Majefty,  "  breathed  a  fpirit  of  mo- 
"  deration  and  forbearance. — I  have  acted  with  the  fame 
"  temper;  anxious  to  prevent,  if  it  had  been  poffible, 
"  the  effufion  of  the  blood  of  my  fubjects,  and  the  cala- 
"  mities  which  are  infeparable  from  a  flate  of  war ;  Hill 
"  hoping,  that  my  people  in  America  would  have  dif- 
"  cerned  the  traiterous  views  of  their  leaders,  and  have 
"  been  convinced,  that  to  be" a  fubject  to  Great  Britain, 
"  with  all  its  confequences,  is  to  be  the  freeft  member 
'*  of  any  civil  fociety  in  the  known  world. 

"  The  rebellious  war  now  levied  is  become  more 
"  general,  and  is  manifeftly  carried  on  for  the  purpofe 
"  of  eftablifhing  an  independent  empire.  I  need  not 
«'  dwell  on  the  fatal  effects  of  the  fuccefs  of  fuch  a  plan. 
"  The  object  is  too  important,  the  fpirit  of  the  Britifh 
"  nation  too  high,  the  refources  with  which  God  hath 
'*  befled  her  too  numerous,  to  give  up  fo  many  co- 
lonies which  fhe  has  planted  with  great  induftry,  . 
nurfed  with  great  tendernefs,  encouraged  with  many 
commercial  advantages,  and  protected  and  defended 

at   much   expence   of  blood    and   treafure. The 

conilant  employment  of  my  thoughts,  and  the  mod 
earneft  wiflies  of  my  heart,  tend  wholly  to  the  fafety 

and  happinefs  of  all  my  people." The  fpirit  of 

a  great  King,  and  the  tender  folicitude  which  fpeaks 
the  true  father  of  his  people,  render  this  fpeech  truly 
excellent,  and,  indeed,  its  excellence  was  evinced  by 
its  effect ;  for  foon  after  it  was  difieminated  over  the 
nation,  the  American  war,  which  ws  once  univerfally 
odious,  became  a  popular  meafure.  Little  did  the  com- 
pofer of  the  above  paifane  conceive,  that  in  a  few  years 
A  the 


No.  152.  MORAL,     &c.  zy^. 

the  high  fpirit  of  the  Briti/h  nation  would  be  reduced  to 
the  humiliating  neceffity  of  almoft  fupplicating  for  peace 
the  Jellified  people  of  America. 

In  an  afTembly,  like  the  higher  houfe,  confining  of 
men,  in  whofe  education  no  expence  has  been  fpared, 
who-  are,  or  who  ought  to  be,  animated  by  their  own 
exalted  fituation  and  the  examples  of  an  illuftrious  an- 
ceftry,  one  might  reafonably  expect  to  find  frequent 
examples  of  diftinguifhed  eloquence.  But  it  really 
would  be  difficult  to  name  a  (ingle  peer  who  has  at- 
tracted notice  or  admiration  for  the  claffical  elegance 
of  his  matter  or  his  language.  The  law  lords,  relying 
on  their  profeffional  knowledge,  do,  indeed,  frequent- 
ly make  long  and  bold  fpeeches.  Accuftomed  to  brow- 
beat the  evidence  at  the  bar,  and  dictate  on  the  bench, 
fome  of  them  have  retained  their  infolence  and  effrontery 
when  advanced  to  the  woolfack.  But  noife,  obftinacy,  . 
and  imperious  dictation,  though  even  an  upftart  chan- 
cellor ftiould  ufe  them,  cannot  pleafe  an  Attic  or  a  Ro- 
man tafle,  nor  obtain  the  praife  of  pure  and  legitimate  • 
oratory.  Its  rough  and  boillerous  vehemence  may,  in- 
deed, frighten  a  puifne  race  of  peers  into  an  implicit 
acquiefcence  with  the  will  of  a  minifter,  but  it  will  not 
deferve  the  elteem  of  thofe,  who,  in  the  recefles  of 
their  libraries,  appretiate  its  merit  as  a  work  of  litera- 
ture. A  few  dukes  and  lords  in  oppofition  have  not . 
been  deficient  in  noife  nor  in  violence,  but  their  bar- 
barous language,  matter,  and  manner,  muft  affign  : 
them  a  rank  among  the  Goths,  and  not  among  the  po- 
limed  fons  of  Athens  and  Rome.  Of  all  the  fpeeches 
fpoken  in  the  houfe,  how  few  have  ever  been  collected 
nnd  preferved  in  libraries,  as  models  of  claffical  ele- 
gance. Pafiion  and  perfonal  animofity  have,  indeed, 
produced  many  invectives,  which  gratify  the  fpleen  of 
party,  and  are  for  the  time  extolled  beyond  all  the 
productions  of  preceding  ingenuity.  But  is  there  ex- 
tant a  fingle  volume  of  fpeeches,  by  the  moft  famous 
among  the  orators  of  the  upper  houfe,  which  can  be 
produced  as  a  clafiical  book,  or  ftand  in  competition 
with  the  orations  of  Cicero  ?  I  think  it  nece/Tary  to  re- 
peat, that  my  remarks  have  not  the  leaft  reference  to 
party.  I  am  in  fearch  of  an  orator  to  whom  the  epithet 

of 


iSo  ESSAYS,  No.  ip. 

c  f  da£cal  may  be  juftly  applied.  I  regret  that  tire  fury 
of  party  and  the  meannefs  of  ferviJity,  has  for  the  mofi 
part  excluded  that  true  tafte,  true  grace,  and  true  fpirit, 
which  is  neceflary  to  form  a  clafiical  orator,  from  the 
harangues  of  an  afiembly,  which  may  be  deemed  the 
m/cft  auguit  in  Europe. 

The  Houfe  of  Commons  has  always  been  efteemed 
a  very  diftinguifhed  theatie  of  modern  eloquence.  And 
there  indeed,  notwithftanding  the  fame  impediments 
which  prevail  among  the  peers,  it  is  eafy  to  produce 
many  fplendid  examples.  In  the  Houfe  of  Commons, 
men  have  been  ftimulatcd  by  the  moil  powerful  motives, 
by  the  hopes  of  rifmg  ;  in  the  Houfe  of  Lords  they 
have  already  rifen.  But  though  we  join  in  the  ap- 
plaufe  of  common  fame,  yet  let  us  afk,  where  are  to  be 
found  the  volumes  of  oratorical  elegance  ?  Have  the 
fpeeches  which  have  gained  the  praife  of  admiring 
kingdoms,  been  no  where  collected  and  recorded  ?  Do 
we  lock  them  up  in  our  book-cafes,  and  put  them  into 
the  hands  of  our  children  as  models  for  imitations,  as 
leflbns  to  form  their  young  minds,  and  raife  a  fucceffion 
of  orators  and  patriots  ?  No  ;  the  fpeeches  are  celebrat- 
ed at  firit,  and  while  they  anfwer  a  temporary  purpofe. 
They  are  like  vegetables  of  a  night,  or  infefts  of  a  dav. 
They  have  feldom  that  folidity  of  merit  which  can.  ren- 
der the  ore  valuable  when  the  ftamp  is  effaced,  and  the 
occafion  of  it  almcft  forgotten  and  quite  difregarded  ; 
which  can  preferve  the  plate  iliJl.  faleable  after  the  fa- 
fhion  is  antiquated.  Glorious  was  the  eloquence  of 
Mr.  Pitr.  Nations  (hook  at  the  thunder  of  his  voice. 
But  where  are  the  harangues  ?  are  they  preferved. as  il- 
luftrious  models  for  the  inftruftion  of  poilerity  ?  Inftead 
of  being  engraven  oa  brafs,,they  are  almoft  funk  into 
an  oblivion,  like  the  foldiers  whofe  bones  once  whiten- 
ed the  plains  of  Germany.  Yet  I. mean  not  to  detract 
from  his  glories.  Language,  can  fcarcely  fupply  terms 
to  exprefs  the  weight  of  his  authority,  the  magnitude 
of  his  mind,  and  his  character,  and  the  efficacy  with 
which  he  thought,  decided,  fpoke,  .and  acted.  But  let 
it  not  efcape  the  reader's  attention,  that  we  are  enquir- 
ing for  a  rival  to  the  mafterly  and  tranfceodent  excel- 
lence of  a  Cicero  and  a  Demofthenes.  If  fuch  has  of 

fete 


No.  152.  MORA  L,    &c.  zSr 

late  appeared  among  us,  the  curiofity  of  this  age  would 
have  prefervcd  it;  and  if  it  be  preferved,  let  the  vo- 
lume be  openly  produced,  and  the  public  will  embrace- 
it  as  an  invaluable  treafure. 

There  are,  indeed,  in  the  fenate,  feveral  defperate 
declaimers,  who,  wifhing  to  make  themfelves  of  confe- 
qtience,  and  to  retrieve  their  own  affairs,  which  they 
have  ruined  at  the  gaming-table,  exert  all  their  effron-- 
tery  and  all  their  volubility  in  any  caufe,  and  on  any 
fide  which  eventually  may  promote  their  intereir.,  or 
gratify  their  ambition.  The  ignor.int  and  difconterit- 
td  extol  the  bravado  who  thus  draws  courage  from  de- 
fpair,  as  a  prodigy  of  abilities,  and  the  mirror  of  elo- 
quence. But  the  good,  the  wife,  and  the  judicious 
ebferver,  pities  and  defpifes  him  as  an  unprincipled 
brawler,  with  as  little  tafte  in  eloquence  as  honeity  ; 
and  as  the  mere  rival  of  the  noify  fpouters  at  the  Fo- 
rum, or  the  Robinhood. 

The  applaufe  indeed  beftowed  on  one  orator,  Is  fcarce- 
Jy  adequate  to  his  literary  merit.  Mr.  Burke  has  pro- 
duced to  the  world  very  honourable  testimonies  of  his 
natural  abilities,  and  his  acquired  taite.  What  orations 
are  there  publifhed  of  modern  Members,  which  can  bear 
a  comparifon  with  thofe  of  Mr.  Burke?  With  what  dig- 
nity he  addrefled  the  people  of  Briftol  ;  and  how  mean 
and  little  did  they  appear,  con  trailed  with  him  whom 
they  rejected.  Like  Socrates  before  the  judges,  he  ap* 
peared  more  like  their  mafter  than  their  fuppliant.  He 
concludes  with  a  fpirit  worthy  of  him  who  wrote  on  the 
fublime  and  beautiful  ;  worthy  of  a  polifhed  antient  in 
the  bell  of  ages.  "  And  now,  gentlemen,"  he  con- 
cludes, "  on  this  ferious  day,  when  I  come,  as  it  were, 
to  UMtko  up  my  account  with  you  ;  let  me  take  to 
myfelf  fome  degree  of  honell  pride  en  tne  nature  of 
the  charges  brought  agaiaft  me.  J  do  not  here  iland 
accufed  of  venality,  or  negledl  of  duty.  It  is  not 
faid  that,  in  the  long  period  of  my  fervice,  I  have, 
in  a  fingle  inilance,  lacriliced  the  flighted  of  your 
intereits  to  my  ambition,  or  to  my  fortune.  It  is 
not  alleged,  that  to  "ratify  -'my  anger  or  revenge  of 
my  own,  or  of  my  party,  1  have  had  a  faare  in  wrong- 
ing or  oppreffing  any  one  man  in  any  ddcription. — 

•'   No; 


28z  ESSAYS,  No.  153; 

Ko  ;  the  charges  againft  me  are  all  of  one  kind, 
that  I  have  pufhed  the  general  principles  of  general 
juftice  and  benevolence  too  far;  further  than  a  cau- 
tious policy  would  warrant,  and  further  than  the  opi- 
nions of  many  would  go  with  me.  In  every  accident 
which  may  happen  through  life,  in  pain,  in  forrow, 
*'  in  depreffion,  and  diftrefs,  I  will  think  of  this  accu- 
**  fation,  and  be  comforted." 

There  are  not  indeed  many  of  the  members  who  fa- 
vour the  public  with  their  harangues,  fo  that  we  have 
not  an  opportunity  of  judging  of  all  fo  well  as  of  Mr. 
Burke's.  We  muft,  however,  acknowledge  our  great 
obligations  to  the  ingenious  Mr.  Woodfall,  the  editor  of 
the  Morning  Chronicle,  whofe  memory  feems  equal  to 
the  inilances  of  which  we  read,  but  which  do  not  often 
occur  in  our  intercourfe  with  fociety. 


NO.   CLIII.      A  LIFE  OF   LETTERS  USUALLY  A 
LIFE  OF  COMPARATIVE   INNOCENCE.. 


TT  T  is  not  the  lead  among  the'happy  effefts  of  a  ftudiou* 
J.  life,  that  it  withdraws  the  ftudent  from  the  turbulent 
fcenes  and  purfuits,  in  which  it  is  fcarcely  lefs  difficult 
to  preferve  innocence  than  tranquillity.  Succefsful  ftudy 
requires  fo  much  attention,  and  engrofies  fo  much  of  the 
heart,  that  he  who  is  deeply  engaged  in  it,  though  he 
may  indeed  be  liable  to  temporary  lapfes,  will  feldom 
contract  an  inveterate  habit  of  immorality.  There  is 
in  all  books  of  character  a  reverence  for  virtue,  and  a 
tendency  to  infpire  a  laudable  emulation.  He  who  is 
early,  long,  and  fuccefsfully  converfant  with  them,  will 
End  his  bofom  f.lled  with  the  love  of  truth,  and  finely 
aff^&ed  with  a  delicate  fenfe  of  honour.  By  conftantly 
exercifmg  his  reafon,  his  paflions  are  gradually  reduced 
to  fubjeftion,  and  his  head  and  heart  keep  pace  with 
each  other  in  improvement.  But  when  I  afiert  thatfuch 
are  the  confequences  of  literary  purfuits,  it  is  neceffary 
to  diftinguim  between  the  real  and  pretended  ftudent  ; 
for  there  are  many  defultory  readers  and  volatile  men 

of 


No.  153.  MORAL,    &c.  283 

of  parts,  who  affeft  eccentricity,  whofe  lives,  if  one  may 
fo  exprefs  it,  are  uniformly  irregular,  and  who  confe- 
quently  exhibit  remarkable  inilances  of  mifery  and  mif- 
fortune. 

Folly  and  imprudence  will  produce  moral  and  natural 
evil,  their  genuine  offspring,  in  all  fituations  and  modrs 
of  life.  The  knowledge  of  arts  and  fciences  cannot 
prevent  the  vices  and  the  woes  which  mull  arife  from 
the  want  of  knowing  how  to  regulate  our  private  and 
focial  conduct.  But  where  prudence  and  virtue  are  not 
deficient,  I  believe  few  walks  of  life  are  pleafanter  and 
fafer  than  thofe  which  lead  through  the  regions  of  li- 
terature. 

Many  among  mankind  are  involved  in  perpetual  tu- 
mult, fo  that  if  they  felt  an  inclination  to  confider  their 
duty,  their  nature,  thdr  trued  happinefs,  they  really 
would  not  be  able  to  find  an  opportunity.  But  he, 
whom  Providence  has  We/Fed  with  an  enlightened  mind, 
and  the  command  of  his  own  time,  is  enabled  to  form 
his  heart,  and  diredt  his  choice,  according  to  the  dictates 
of  the  molt  improved  intellects,  and  the  examples  of  the 
moft  accomplimed  characters.  He  is,  indeed,  a  creature 
far  fuperior  to  the  common  herd  of  men  ;'  and  being  ac- 
quainted with  pure  and  exalted  pleafures,  lies  not  under 
the  neceffity  of  feeking  delight  in  the  grofler  gratifica- 
tions. He  confiders  not  property  as  the  chief  good  ;  he 
is  therefore  free  from  temptations  to  violate  his  integri- 
ty. Difappointment  in  matters  of  interelt  will  never 
render  him  uneafy  or  difcontented,  for  his  books  have 
difcovered  to  him  a  treafure  more  valuable,  in  his  elli- 
mation,  than  the  riches  of  Peru.  Through  all  the  vi- 
cifiitudes  of  life,  he  has  a  fource  of  confolation  in  the 
retirement  of  his  library,  and  in  the  principles  and  re- 
flections of  his  own  bofom.  From  his  reading  he  will 
collect  a  juft  eflimate  of  the  world  and  of  all  around  him  ; 
and,  as  he  will  cherifh  no  unreafonable  expectations,  he 
will  be  exempted  from  fevere  difappointment. 

The  converfation  of  many  abounds  with  flander  and 
detraction,  not  originally  and  entirely  derived  from  a 
malignity  of  nature,  but  alfo  from  ignorance,  from  a 
vacancy  of  intellect,  and  from  an  inability  to  expatiate 
on  general  and  generous  topics.  But  whatever  be  the 

motive 


s34  ESSAY     S,  No.  r3-> 

motive  of  them,  it  is  certain  that  few  crimes  are  more 
injurious  to  private  happinefs,  and  opoofire  :o  the  fpirit 
of  our  amiable  religion,  than  flander  and  detraction. 
The  man  of  reading  is  under  no  temptation  to  calum- 
niate his  neighbour  from  the  defeft  of  ideas,  or  a  want  of 
taiie  for  liberal  and  refined  converfation.  He  intereih- 
hinifelfin  his  neighbour's  happinefs;  but  does  not  pry 
into  the  afiairs,  nor  iit  in  judgment  on  the  domeftic  ar- 
rangements, of  another's  family.  Molt  of  the  topics  of 
fcandal  are  too  little  and  too  low  for  him.  He  will  not 
ftoop  from  his  elevation  low  enough  to.  pick  the  dirty 
trifles  from  the  ground.  His  thoughts -are  engaged  in 
elegant  and  fpeculative  fubjecls,  far  removed  from  all 
which  tend  to  excite  envy,  jealoufy,  or  malevolence. 

The  want  of  employment  is  one  of  the  frequent  caufes 
of  vice;  but  he  who  Icves  a  book  will  never  want  em- 
ployment. The  purfuits  of  learning  are  boundlefs,  and 
they  prefent  to  the  mind  a  delightful  variety  which  can- 
not be  exhaufted.  No  life  is  long  enough  to  fee  all  the 
beautiful  pictures  which  the  arts  and  fcience?,  or  which 
hiltory,  poetry,  and  eloquence  are  able  to  difplay.  The 
man  of  letters  pofTeffes  the  power  of  calling  up  a  fuccef- 
iion  of  fcenes  to  his  view  infinitely  numerous  and  diver- 
ged. He  is  therefore  fecured  from  that  unhappy  ilate 
which  urges  many  to  vice  and  diff.pation,  merely  to  fill 
a  painful  vacuity.  Even  though  his  purfuits  ihou]d  be 
trifling,  and  his  difcoveries  unimportant,  yet  they  are 
harmlefs  to  others,  and  ufeful  to  himfelf,  as  preferva- 
tives  of  his  innocence.  Let  him  not  be  ridiculed  or 
condemned,  even  though  he  mould  fperid  his  time  in, 
collecting  and  defcribing  moths,  rccfies,  (hells,  birds, 
weeds,  or  coins;  for  he  who  loves  thefe  things  feldoai 
fet:  his  afredions  on  pelf,  or  any  of  thofe  objects  which 
corrupt  and  divide  human  ibciety.  He  who  fuids  his 
pleasures  in  a  mufeum  or  a  library,  will  not  often  be  feen, 
in  the  tavern,  in  the  brothel,  or  at  the  gaming-table. 
He  is  plealed  if  he  pofiefles  a  non-defcript  folul,  and 
envies  not  the  wretched  enjoyments  of  the  intemperate, 
nor  t!i  ill-gotten  wealth  of  the  opprefibr  or  extortioner. 

But  his  purfuits  have  ufunlly  a  title  to  much  greater 
praife  than  that  of  being  incffenfive.  Suppofe  him  in 
any  of  the  liberal  profciuons.  If  a  clergyman,  for  i-n- 

(lance, 


No.  153.  MORA   L,     &c.  285 

fiance,  he  devotes  his  time  and  abilities  to  the  preparation 
of  diffuafives  from  vice,  from  folly,  from  mifconduct, 
from  infidelity,  from  all  that  contributes  to  aggravate 
the  wretchednefs  of  wretched  human  nature.  Here  the 
pleafures  naturally  refuking  from  literary  occupation  are 
improved  by  the  fublime  fenfarions  of  active  benevo- 
lence, the  comfortable  confcioufnefs  of  advancing  the 
truelt  happinefs  of  thofe  among  our  poor  fellow-creatures 
.who  have  not  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  education.  In 
the  performance  of  the  godlike  office  of  a  true  parifh 
prieil,  there  is  a  neceflity  of  fetting  an  example,  and  of 
preferving  decorum  .of  character  ;  a  neceffity  which  con- 
duces much  to  the  fecurity  of  innocence.  It  is  ofteji  a 
-great  happinefs  to  be  placed  in  a  rank  where,  to  the  .re- 
Itraints  of  confcience  and  mobility,  are  added  the  fear 
of  peculiar  fhame,  lofs,  and  difgrace,  neceflarily  confe- 
quent  on  ill  behaviour.  Human  Nature  wants  every 
fupport  to  keep  it  from  lapling  into  depravity.  Eve« 
intereft  and  a  folicitude  for  reputation,  when,  in  fome 
thoughtlefs  interval,  the  pillars  of  virtue  begin  to  tot- 
ter, may  flop  the  fall.  The  pofTefiion  of  a  valuable  cha- 
racter which  may  be  loft,  and  of  a  dignity  which  mull 
be  fupported,  are  often  very  ufeful  auxiliaries  in  defend- 
ing the  citadel  againfl  the  temporary  a/Faults  of  paffion 
and  temptation. 

Since,  then,  the  purftiit  of  letters  is  attended  with 
many  circum  fiances  peculiarly  favourable  to  innocence, 
and  confequently  to  enjoyment  of  the  purelt  and  moil 
permanent  fpecies,  they  who  have  been  fixed  in  fo  de- 
firable  a  life  as  a  life  of  learning,  ought  to  be  grateful 
to  Providence  for  their  fortunate  lot,  and  endeavour  to 
make  the  belt  return  in  their  power,  by  devoting  their 
leifure,  their  abilities,  and  their  acquirements,  to  the 
God,  and  the  benefit  of  mankind. 


No.  CUV. 


286*  ESSAYS,  No.  154, 


No.  CLIV.  ON  THE  ADVANTAGE  WHICH 
MAY  BE  DERIVED  TO  THE  TENDER  AND 
PATHETIC  STLYEj  FROM  USING  THE  WORDS 
AND  PHRASES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


IT  is  obfervable  that  an  audience  often  laughs  or 
yawns  in  the  moft  interefting  fcenes  of  a  modern 
tragedy;— a  lamentable  proof  of  the  poet's  imbecility. 
The  poet !  he  may,  indeed,  be  a  verfifier  and  a  declaimer, 
but  he  is  no  poet,  who  tells  a  tragic  tale  without  eliciting 
a  tear.  Let  us  not  profane  the  facred  name  of  poet  by 
beftowing  it  on  the  feeble  poetafter. 

It  is  not  enough  that  the  language  of  a  tragedy  is 
flowery,  the  fimilies  and  metaphors  brilliant,  the  verfe 
melodious  ;  there  muft  be  a  charm  added  by  the  creative 
power  of  almighty  genius,  which  no  didactic  rules  can 
teach,  which  cannot  be  adequately  defcribed,  but  which 
is  powerfully  felt  by  the  vibrations  of  the  heart- firings, 
and  which  caufes  an  irrefiilible  overflowing  of  the 
A»x£vuv  mir/ou,  the  facri  fonfes  lachrymarum. 

Florid  diction  and  pompous  declamation  are,  indeed, 
found  to  be  the  leaft  adapted  of  all  modes  of  addrefs 
to  affeft  the  finer  fenfibiltties'of  nature.  Plain  words, 
without  epithets,  without  metaphors,  without  fimilies, 
have  oftener  excited  emotions  of  the  tendereft  fympathy, 
than  the  moft  laboured  compofition  of  Corneille.  Ye 
who  would  learn  how  to  touch  the  heart,  go  not  to  the 
fchools  of  France,  but  become  the  difciples  of  Sophocles, 
Shakefpeare,  Sterne,  and  Chatterton.  Thou  captivating 
limplicity  !  'tis  thine  at  once  to  effe£l  what  all  the  arti- 
fices of  rhetoric,  with  all  its  tropes  and  figures,  tedioufly 
and  vainly  labour  to  accomplifh.  'Tis  thine  to  diflblve 
the  hardeft  heart,  and  to  fcrce  even  ftubborn  nerves  to 
tremble.  A  few  words  of  fimple  pathos  will  penetrate 
the  foul  to  the  quick,  when  a  hundred  lines  of  declama- 
tion mail  afTail  it  as  feebly  and  ineffectually,  as  a  gentle 
gale  the  mountain  of  Plinlimmon. 

A  writer 


No.  154.  MORAL,    &c.  287 

A  writer  of  tafte  and  genius  may  avail  himfclfgreatly 
in  pathetic  compofitions,  by  adopting  the  many  words 
and  phrafes,  remarkable  for  their  beautiful  fimplicity, 
which  are  interfperfed  in  that  pleafing,  as  well  as  ve- 
nerable book,  the  holy  bible.  I  cannot,  indeed,  en- 
tirely agree  with  thofe  zealous  critics  who  pretend  to 
difcover  in  the  fcriptures  all  the  graces  of  all  the  beft 
claflics.  To  pleafe  the  ear  and  imagination,  were  very 
inferior  objecls  in  the  benevolent  mind  of  Him  who 
caufed  all  holy  fcripture  to  be  written  for  our  ufe.  But, 
at  the  fame  time,  it  is  certain  that  they  abound  in. 
fuch  beauties  as  never  fail  to  pleafe  the  moil  cultivated 
tafte.  Befides  their  aftoniming  fubliinity,  they  have 
many  a  paflage  exquifitely  tender  and  pathetic.  Our 
admirable  tranflation  has  preferved  them  in  all  their 
beauty,  and  an  Englifli  writer  may  feleft  from  it  a 
didlion  better  fuited  to  raife  the  fympathy  of  grief, 
than  from  the  moil  celebrated  models  of  human  com- 
pofition. 

Sterne,  who,  though  he  is  juftly  condemned  for  his 
libertinifm,  poflefled  an  uncommon  talent  for  the  pa- 
thetic, has  availed  himfelf  greatly  of  the  fcriptural  lan- 
guage. In  all  his  moll  afteding  paflages,  he  has  imi- 
tated the  turn,  ftyle,  manner,  and  fimplicity,  of  the  fa- 
cred  writers,  and  in  many  of  them  has  tranfcribed  whole 
fentences.  He  found  no  language  of  his  own  could 
equal  the  finely  expreffive  diftion  of  our  common  tranf- 
lation. There  are  a  thoufand  inflances  of  his  imitating 
fcripture  interfperfed  in  all  the  better  parts  of  his  works, 
and  no  reader  of  common  obfervation  can  pafs  by  them 
unnoticed.  I  will  quote  only  one  or  twoinftances  taken 

from  the  molt  admired  pieces  in  the  tender  ftyle. 

Maria,  though  not  tall,  was  neverthelefs  of  the  firft 
order  of  fine  forms.  Affliction  had  touched  her  looks 
with  fomething  that  was  fcarce  earthly,  and  fo  much 
was  there  about  her  of  all  that  the  heart  wilhes,  or  the 
eye  looks  for  in  woman,  that  could  the  traces  be  ever 
worn  out  of  her  brain,  or  thofe  of  Eliza  out  of  mine, 
me  mould  not  only  eat  of  my  bread,  and  drink  of 
my  cup,  but  Maria  mould  lie  in  my  bofom,  and  be 
unto  me  as  a  daughter. 

"  Adieu, 


283  ESSAYS,  No.  1^4. 

"  Adieu,  poor  lucklefs  maiden!  imbibe  the  oil  and 
*'  wine  which  the  companion  of  a  Granger  as  he  fo- 
"  journcth  on  his  way,  now  pours  into  thy  wounds. 
<{  The  Being  who  has  twice  bruifed  thee  can  only  bind 
"*'  them  up  forever."  Again,  in  his  description  of  the 
captive,  "  As  I  darkened  the  little  light  he  had,  he 
"  lifted  up  a  hopelefs  eye  to\vards  the  door,  then 
•"  caft  it  down,  fhook  his  head,  and  went  on  with  his 
•"  work  of  affliction.  I  heard  his  chains  upon  his  legs, 
*'  as  he  turned  his  body  to  lay  his  little  ftick  upon  the 
"  bundle.  Ke  gave  a  deep  figh.  I  faw  the  iron  enter 
•«•  into  his  foul."  It  is  eafy,  but  it  is  not  necefTary, 
to  adduce  many  more  inftances  in  which  a  writer,  who 
eminently  excelled  in  the  power  of  moving  the  affeflions, 
felt  himfelf  unequal  to  the  taflc  of  advancing  the  ftyle 
of  pathos  to  its  higheft  perfection,  and  fought  affiftance 
of  the  bible. 

It  is  eafy  to  fee  that  the  writer  of  fo  many  tender  and 
fimple  paflages  had  imitated  the  delightful  book  of  Ruth. 
"With  what  pleafure  did  a  man  of  his  feeling  read,  "  In- 
""  treat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  follow- 
'"  ing  after  thee;  for  whither  thougoeft,  I  will  go  ;  and 
**  where  thou  lodged,  I  will  lodge;  thy  people  mall  be 
"  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God  ;  where  thou  dieft 
te  will  I  die,  and  there  wiil  I  be  buried."  Sterne  ftole 
the  very  fpiritof  this  paftage,  and  indeed  of  all  the  fine 
ftrokes  of  tendernefs,  and  many  an  one  there  is  in  a 
book  which  is  often  laid  afide  as  abfjJrd  and  obfolete. 
The  choice  which  Sterne  has  made  of  texts  and  of  cita- 
tions from  the  fcriptures  in  his  fermons,  are  proofs  that 
he  (who  was  one  of  the  beft  judges)  was  particularly 
ftruck  with  the  affedling  tendernefs  and  lovely  fimplicity 
of  fcriptural  language. 

The  poet,  therefore,  who  means  to  produce  a  tra- 
gedy, which  mail  be  able  to  fland  its  ground  even  after 
the  firft  nine  nights,  without  the  aid  of  puffing,  and  with- 
out filling  the  pit  and  boxes  with  orders,  mould  fome- 
times  go  to  the  fame  fountain,  and  drink  the  waters  of 
poetical  infpiration  of  which  Sterne  drank  fo  copiously. 
He  will  improve  greatly  by  ftudying  the  language  and 
hiftories-crf  Jofenh,  Saul,  and  Jonathan,  of  Ruth,  of 
6  Job, 


No.  155.  MORAL,     Sec.  289 

Job,  of  the  Pfalms,  of  Ifaiah,  of  Jeremiah,  of  many  fingle 
paflages  every  where  interfperfed,  and  of  the  parables 
in  the  New  Teftament.  Judgment  and  tafte  are  cer- 
tainly neceflary  to  feleft;  but  he  may  depend  upon  ir, 
that  a  word  or  two  well  fele&ed  will  gain  him  the  trueft 
applaufe,  that  which  is  conveyed  in  fighs  and  tears. 
Let  him  fully  perfuade  himfelf,  that  the  only  method 
of  operating  powerfully  on  the  feelings  of  nature,  is  to 
renounce  art  and  affectation,  and  to  adhere  to  truth  and 
Simplicity. 

Something  is  neceflary  to  be  done  to  produce  an  alter- 
ation. The  theatric  ftate  is  in  its  decline*  It  cannot 
much  longer  be  fupported  by  fine  drefles,  painted  fcenes, 
mufic,  dancing,  and  pantomime.  We  have  hearts  as 
well  as  ears  and  eyes  ;  if  they  know  not  how  to  touch 
our  paflions  at  Old  Drury,  let  us  haften  to  the  Opera- 
houfe,  and  fee  the  man  itand  upon  one  leg. 


No.  CLV.  ON  THE  FIGURE  PARRHESIA,- 
OR  ON  EXPRESSING  ONfi's  SENTIMENTS 
FREELY. 


TH  E  Y,  whofe  wifdom  confifts  in  cunning  and 
caution,  who  coniider  preferment  as  the  only  or 
molt  valuable  objeft  of  human  purluir,  and  who  Itand 
in  awe  or"  grandeur  independently  of  prrfonal  merit  and 
character,  will  often  fhake  their  heads  as  they  read  my 
eflays  (if  they  read  them  at  all,  which  is  not  likely),  and 
blame  the  writer's  imprudence,  in  venturing  to  exprefs 
lumfelf  on  many  dangerous  fubjecls  without  referve. 
]t  is  madnefs,  they  exc.laim,  to  cut  himfelf  off  from 
al!  chance  of  eccleiiaftical  preferment,  to  exclude  him- 
felf from  the  funihine  of  patronage;  and  (to  ufe 
the  words  of  a  celebrated  orator)  "  to  create  a  loup-, 
"  dull,  dreary,  unvaried  vifto of  defpair,  andexcl. 

But, «'  O  ye  wife  ones  of  the  world"  (an  honed  and  in- 
dependent writer  might  fay),  "  fignificandy  as  yc  hif- 
««  per  among  each  other,  and  hug  yourfelves  on  your  own 

VOL.  II.  O  »  pro- 


290  ESSAYS,  No.  155. 

profound  fagacity,  T  value  not  yourfpuricus  vvifdom  ; 
and  though  I  pretend  not  to  defpife  either  honours  or 
emoluments  fairly  and  openly  obtained,  I  think  the 
means  ye  ufe  in  their  purfuit  bafe  and  mean,  and  that 
ye  purchafe  all  you  poflefs  at  a  price  too  dear.  Ye 
refign  your  reafon,  your  liberty,  and",  I  fear,  too 
often,  your  truth  and  honour  Ye  are  real  flaves,  and 
the  robes  of  office  and  dignity,  in  which  ye  pride  your- 
felves,  are  but  the  liveries  of  a  fplendid  fervitude. 
From  one  inftance  of  your  fpirit  and  wifdom  let  the 
public  judge  of  all.  Dare  ye,  if  raifed  by  a  longcourie 
of  mean  fervility  to  a  feat  in  the  Britiih  fenate,  1 1  give 
a  vote,  or  exprefsa  fingle  fentiment  according  to  your 
own  judgment,  and  without  firft  religioufly  confult- 
ing  the  god  of  your  idolatry?  Cenfure  me  no  more 
for  an  honeft  freedom,  Blufh  rather  at  your  own 
meannefs  and  cowardice.  Pity  me  no  more,  as  ex- 
cluding myfelf  by  temerity  from  the  favours  of  the 
great.  I  am  happier  in  the  liberty  of  ranging,  in 
thought,  through  all  the  mazes  of  human  lift-,  a;id  of 
uttering  my  undiiguifed  fendments  on  whatever  I  fee 
and  hear,  than  in  gaining  favour  where  favour  is  to 
be  gained,  merely  by  fubmitting  to  the  meannefs  of 
concealing  truth,  and  fpeaking  according  to  the  dic- 
tates of  felf-intereft  alone.  Blame  me  no  more  till 
you  point  out  the  paiTage  in  the  gofpel,  where  bold- 
nefs  of  rebuke  is  prohibited,  and  where  a  profefled 
fervant  of  Jefus  Chriil  is  taught  to  bow  the  knee  to 
an  unbelieving  and  debauched  ruler  of  this  world. 
"  But  you  are  actuated  by  envy,  foftly  fuggefts  the 
fuccefsful  chaplain,  the  quondam  tutor,  and  travelling 
companion  of  a  gracele's  duke.  You  rail,  fays  he,  at 
what  you  cannot  reach.  But,  my  lord,  give  me  leave 
to  aik,  whether  you  are  not  actuated  by  avarice  and 
worldly  ambition  ?  vices  in  a  chriitian  paftor,  no  lefs 
culpable  than  envy.  By  what  were  you  actuated  when 
you  gained  the  favour  of  the  patron  who  raifed  you  to 
your  honours,  merely  by  drinking  and  caballing  for 
him  at  a  contelted  election  ?  Your  patron  prufefles 
himfelf  a  deift,  and  you  know  he  keeps  many  con- 
cubines. By  what  were  you  aduated  when  you  were 
always  feeking  his  company,  and  dining  at  his  table? 

•    <«  Was 


No.  15;.  M  O   R   A  L,    &c.  aqi 

"  Was  it  a  defire  to  convert  him  from  -the  error  of  his 
"  ways  ?  Did  you  ever  dare  to  hint  your  uifpleafure  at 
"  ihc'm  :  Did  they  difpleafe  yen  ? 

"   And,  with  refpedt  to  envy  as  the  motive  of  my  fre e- 

"   dom,  your  lordfhip  will  do  right  to  coofider,  tnat  re 

''•  who  envies,  eagerly  wilhes  to  obtain  the  object.     He 

who  eagerly  def:res  to  obtain,  ufually  purfuesthe  mort 

probable  means  of  fuccefs.     But   your  lordihip  mall 

judge  by  your  own   experience,  whether  what  I  have 

faid  is,  in  the  fmalleft  degree,  like  the  methods  »vhich 

are  found  moll  fuccefsful.  Does  it  tally  with  your  own 

receipt  for  rifing  at  court  ? 

"  Indeed,  my  lord,  you  muftexcufe  me.  Icannot  think 
as  you  do ;  your  objects  and  mine  are  totally  different, 
and  rnufl  be  differently  purfued.  Enjoy  your  mitre  and 
your  cuihion  ;  but  let  me  alfo  enjoy  my  liberty,  or,  if 
you  chnfe  to  call  it  fo,  my  humour.  I  will  boaft  a 
Superiority  in  one  refpedl ;  I  have  no  matter,  faveone* 
"  But  you  fay  lam  gratifying  my  vanity.  Jf  to  feelc 
an  honeit  fame,  be  to  feek  the  gratification  of  my 
vanity,  I  plead  guilty  to  the  charge.  I  dare  avov  a 
\vifh  to  poifefs  the  public  eiloem,  but  I  purfue  no  mean 
or  finiiter  method  to  procure  it.  I  rely  for  their  favour 
on  my  love  of  truth,  and  the  fincerity  of  my  z.^al  i;i 
their  fervice.  Their  good  opinion  is  a  delightful  and 
fufHcient  reward.  Not  that  I  ever  affected  to  renounce 
or  to  defpife  preferment,  but  it  comes  on/ought  for, 
as  well  as  unlocked  for,  if  it  comes  at  all. 
"  To  preferve  the  favour  of  the  public,  and  the  ap- 
probation of  my  own  heart,  I  think  it  neceflary  to 
continue,  while  I  write,  the  open  declaration  of  my 
fentiments  fuch  as  they  are,  equally  uninfluenced  by 
mean  hope?,  and  cowardly  apprehenfions.  Indivi- 
duals may  apply  what  was  never  meant  to  be  applied, 
to  themfelves  ;  and,  in  the  warmth  of  an  exafperated 
mind,  may  fliew  their  refentment  by  neglect  or  cen- 
fure.  Hitherto  I  have  known  nothing  of  that  kind 
of  which  I  can  complain. 

"  Let  me  then  be  permitted  (fuch  awriter  might  pro- 
ceed to  fay  in  his  defence)  to  employ  myfelf  in  peac: 
and  innocence,  and  to  amufe  readers  of  congenial  fen- 
timents, by  a  free  communication  of  feelings  un  it"- 
O  2  ««  &-.  ifeJ 


9*  ESSAYS,  No.  156. 

'  gulfed  by  art,  and  uttered  boldly  as  they  were  excited 
'  warmly,  by  men  and  manners  palling  in  review.  Let 
'  the  fympathetic  tribe,  who,  in  the  exuberance  of  their 
'  companion,  exprefs  their  anxiety  left  I  mould  hurt  my 
'  intereft,  referve  their  pity  for  objects  of  more  merit.  I 
(  am  happy  in  the  idea,  that  nothing  which  I  have  writ- 
'  ten  can  injure  the  interelt  of  any  one  but  the  writer. 

"  Jn  times  of  peculiar  exigency  (he  might  add),  thefe 
'  maybe  a  moral  as  well  as  military  heroifm.  He  de- 
'  ferves  to  be  degraded  from  his  rank,  who  is  not  ready 
'  to  incur  every  hazard  in  the  caufe  which  he  has  juftly 
1  undertaken  ;  and  not  only  to  forego  honours  and  ad- 
'  vantages  in  the  defence  of  what  he  deems  the  truth, 
'  but,  if  circumftances  mould  require  it,  to  die  in  its 
'  confirmation.  A  timid  and  lukewarm  prudence  in  a 
'  good  caufe  is  little  better  than  defei  tion." 

Such,  I  fay,  is  the  apology  which  an  independent 
writer  might  make  to  thole  who  (houkl  fay  to  him,  Sunt 
quibiis  in  fatira  --videris  nimis  acer.  If  it  contains  in  it 
any  thing  fevere,  be  it  remembered,  that  the  feverity  is 
applied  to  manners,  not  to  perfons  ;  that  no  individual 
is  pointed  at ;  and  that  he  who  complains  of  it  probably 
deferves  it. 


No.   CLVI.        ON    READING    MERELY    WITH  A 
VIEW    TO    AMUSEMENT. 


THERE  are  many  who  fpend  much  of  their  time 
in  reading,  but  who  read  as  they  play  at  cards, 
with  no  other  intention  but  to  pafs  the  time,  without  la- 
bouring under  the  intolerable  burthen  of  a  total  inacti- 
vity. The  more  trifling  the  book,  the  better  they  fnp- 
pofe  it  fuited  to  their  purpofe.  Plays,  pamphlets,  me- 
moirs, novels,  and  whatever  entertains  them  without  re- 
quiring any  great  degree  of  attention,  conftitute  the 
whole  of  their  library.  Even  thefe  are  read  in  a  deful- 
tory  manner,  without  the  interference  of  taile,  or  the 
trouble  of  feleclion.  Indeed  this  light  food  for  the  mind 
is  fo  much  wanted,  that  the  circulating  libraries  lay  in  a 
ftock  of  it  every  year;  and  an  afibrtmentof  funvner 

reading 


No.  156.  MORA     I,     &c.  293 

reading  is  in  as  great  requeft  at  the  bookfellers  in  the 
\vatering-placey,  as  a  variety  of  new  fpring  patterns  ac 
the  filk-mercers  in  Pall-Mall.  The  fine  lady  and  gen- 
tleman, who  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  purfue  their 
amufement,  and  in  whole  Je:icate  minds  the  drelfing  of 
the  hair  is  a  bufmefs  of  the  lirii  importance,  commonly 
fpend  two  or  three  hours  every  day  under  the  hands  of 
the  frifeur;  but  then  the  time  is  by  no  means  wafted,  for 
it  is  fpent  in  fummer-reading  ;  and  as  the  volumes  which 
contain  ftimmer  reading  are  not  large  folios,  and  neither 
printed  on  the  fmalleft  type,  nor  on  the  moft  crowded 
page,  one  of  themjuft  ferves  to  fill  up  the  hours  devoted 
to  the  artiri.  of  the  comb.  The  gentle  ftudent  rifes  from 
his  chair  when  the  operation  is  completed,  takes  oft"  his 
flannel  gown,  fends  back  the  half  bound  book  to  the  li- 
brary, and  enters  upon  the  momentous  bufmefs  of  mak  ng 
calls,  without  any  odious  gravity  or  ferioufnefs,  wl 
might  perhaps  have  remained  with  him,  had  his  morn 
ftudies  required  deep  thought,  or  communicated  to  i 
a  feries  of  fober  reflections.  He  can,  indeed,  inari 
day,  devour  half  a  dozen  volumes  of  fu miner  r.-a.ii 
and  be  no  more  incommoded  than  when  he  fwallows  as 
many  puffs  and  fyliabubs  at  the  fafhionable  confectioner'. 
It  muft  be  allowed  that  this  kind  of  reading,  trifling 
as  it  is,  may  often  conrtitutc  an  amufing  and  a  very  in- 
nocent paftime.  But  I  will  venture  to  fay,  that  ufeful 
and  improving  reading  might  be  found,  that  fhould  be 
equally,  and  indeed  more  entertaining.  The  fame  time 
fpent  on  books  of  charader,  which  is  lavifhed  away  on 
literary  trafh,  would  remier  many  a  mind,  which  is  now 
vain  and  fupcrficial,  really  elegant,  prudent,  and  well 
informed.  The  time  fpent  unJer  the  operation  of  the 
hair-drefler  is  very  properly  fpent  in  reading;  but  why 
fhould  not  the  woiks  of  the  Englifh  claffics  be  ufed  in 
preference  to  a  vile  translation  from  a  fooiiih  French  no- 
vel ?  To  a  taftc  not  vitiated,  the  works  of  Shakefpeare, 
Milton,  Cryden,  Pope,  Adiiifon,  and  many  of  their 
fuccefsful  followers,  are  much  more  pleafing  than  the 
inelegant  and  hafty  productions  of  hireling  writers, 
whofe  indigence  compels  them  to  be  lefs  felicitous  about 
quality  than  quantity  ;  who  ftudy  not  fo  much  what  is 
ccngruous  to  talle  and  truth,  as  what  will  catch  the  no- 
O  3  tice 


294  ESSAYS,  No.  156, 

lice  of  ihe  general  reader,  and  anfwer  the  venal  purpofe 
of  their  employer  by  a  rapid  fale.  Have  we  not  many 
tn.e  hiilories,  elegant  in  their  ftyle,  abounding  with 
uir.ster  melt  imprpvir.g  to  the  heart  and  underftanding, 
and  calculated  to  intereft  and  entertain,  in  a  very  high 
degree,  by  gratifying  curiofity  ?  Uniefs  we  renounce  our 
pretensions  to  reafon,  we  muil  ccnfefs  that  fuch  books 
jsre  capable  of  furnifhing  more  pleafure,  exclufively  oF 
the  improvement,  than  anonymous  and  unauihenticated 
anecdotes,  memoirs,,  novels,  voyages,  travels,  lives, 
and  adventures. 

There  are  thofewho  have  read  more"  volumes  than  the 
profoundeft  fcholars  in  the  nation,  who  are  yet  unac- 
quainted with  the  elements  of  fcience,  with  the  moft  in- 
terefting  facts  of  true  hiftory,  with  the  maxims  of  philo- 
fophy,  with  the  beauties  of  ityle,  and  with  the  extent 
ind  force  of  the  language.  They  have  read  inattentive- 
ly what  indeed  was  fcarcely  worth  attention  ;  and  they 
have  immediately  forgotten  what  was  too  futile  to  de- 
ferve  remembrance.  Had  they  poflefied  judgment  fuf- 
ficient  to  point  out  the  proper  books,  and  resolution  to 
purfue  the  dictates  of  their  judgment,  they  would  have 
enriched  their  minds  with  ineftimable  treasures,  and  ac- 
quired the  reputation  and  fatisfaclion  of  folid  fcholars. 
The  fame  exertion  of  their  eyes,  the  fame  confumption 
of  their  time,  the  fame  fedentary  confinement,  would 
have  earned  a  prize  of  fufiicient  value  to  repay  them 
amply  for  every  effort  of  diligence.  But  now  they  have, 
perhaps,  injured  their  eyes,  ruined  their  health,  neglect- 
ed their  affairs,  vitiated  their  tafie,  and  poffibly  corrupt- 
ed their  morals,  cr  weakened  their  faith,  with  no  return, 
bjt  tho  amufement  of  the  moment,  or  the  retention  of 
falfe  fads,  diftorted  figures  of  life  and  manners,  or  trifling 
anecdotes,  the  lumber  of  the  head  and  not  the  furniture. 

l^erfons  advanced  in  life,  or  labouring  under  fick- 
refs  and  infirmity,  have  an  unqueftionable  right  to 
amufe  themfelves  with  whatever  can  innocently  alle- 
viate their  evils,  and  enable  th?m  to  pafs  away  the 
Ingging  hours  in  afvveetand  tranfitory  oblivion.  Their 
reading,  like  their  diet,  may  be  light  a  <d  more  adapted 
to  tickle  a  fickly  palate,  than  to  afford  folid  and  fub- 
Jtantbl  nourilhment.  But  in  ycuth,  health,  and  vigour 

who 


No.  157.  MORAL,     &c.  295 

\vho  would  voluntarily  confine  themfelves  to  the  weak- 
ncfs  and  infipidity  of  water-gruel  ? 

It  is,  indeed,  lamentable  to  obferve  young  perfons  of 
lively  parts,  and  with  a  love  of  reading,  devoting  thofe 
years  and  thofe  abilities,  which  might  render  them  va- 
luable members  of  fociety,  to  fuch  ftudies  as  tend  only  to 
diffipate  their  ideas,  to  vitiate  their  morals,  to  womanize 
their  fpirits,  and  to  render  them  the  daftardly  and  dege- 
nerate fons  of  thofe  to  whom  it  was  once  a  glorious  dif- 
tindion  to  bear  the  name  of  Britons. 


No.  CLVII.    ON  A  METHOD  OF  STUDY,  WRIT- 
TEN BY  JOACHIMUS  FORTIUS  RINGELBERGIUS. 


THERE  is  a  little  treatife  on  the  method  of  ftudy 
written  by  Ringelbergius,  which,  in  the  two  lalt 
centuries,  was  a  great  favourite  among  fcholars,  and  con- 
tributed much  to  animate  their  induilry.  The  learned 
Erpenius  acknowledges  himfelf  originally  indebted  to  it 
for  all  his  acquifitions.  He  met  with  it  at  the  age  of  fix- 
teen,  and,  in  confequence  of  its  fuggeftions,  though  he 
was  then  totally  averfe  from  a  ftudious  life,  and  had 
made  no  proficiency  in  learning,  yet  he  afterwards  be- 
came a  diitinguiflied  fcholar.  The  treatife  had  becoma 
fcarce,  and  Erpenius  generoufly  printed  a  new  edition, 
that  others  might  partake  of  the  benefit  which  he  had 
himfelf  enjoyed.  He  publifhed  it  with  the  title  of  Li- 
ter <uere  ditreus,  or  the  truly  Golden  Treatife. 

In  the  epiftle  to  the  reader  which  Erpenius  has  pre- 
fixed, he  fpeaks  of  the  animating  efteft  of  the  book  in 
terms  fo  warm,  and  with  fo  much  gratitude,  that  a 
Itudent  would  be  wanting  to  himfelf  not  to  gratify  his 
curiofity,  by  at  leaft  giving  it  a  perufal.  It  is  fhort,  and 
contains  many  paflages  which  tend  to  encourage  the 
fcholar  in  his  purfuits,  and  to  infpire  him  with  an  ar- 
dour and  enthufiafm,  like  that  excited  in  the  foldier  by 
the  drum  and  trumpet,  as  he  is  marching  on  to  battle. 
I  believe  there  could  not  be  found  a  better  exhortation 
O  4  to 


296  ESSAYS, 

to  ftudy  for  the  ufe  of  boys,  if  the  good  paflages  were 
rot  difgraced  by  others  fo  ridiculous,  as  almolt  bring  the 
writer  under  the  imputation  of  lunacy.  His  literary 
enthuiiafm  had  ce.-tainly  tranfported  him,  in  fevcrai  in- 
ilanres,  b:yond  the  limits  of  his  own  reafon. 

I  -will  felc£t  a  few  hints  iVom  the  little  tract,  which 
rrny  not  only  ferve  as  a  curious  fpecimen  to  the  Englifli 
reader,  but  may  roiife  him  frs.xn  his  indolence.  The 
whole  is,  indeed,  mere  valuable  for  the  fpirit  and  fire 
which  it  conduces  to  raife,  thiu  for  its  particular  di- 
rections. It  is  rather  exhortatory  than  didadic. 

"'  How  mean,"  fays  he,  fpsaking  of  the  fcope  at 
which  ftudents  ought  to  aim,  "  how  timid,  how  abjeft, 
"  muft  be  that  fpirit  which  can  fit  down  contented 
"  with  mediocrity.  As  for  myfelf,  all  that  is  within 
"  me  is  on  fire.  I  had  rather,"  he  proceeds  in  his 
ftrong  manner,  "  be  torn  in  a  thoufand  pieces,  than 
"  relax  my  refoluticn  of  reaching  the  fublimeit  heights 
"  cf  virtue  and  knowledge.  I  am  of  opinion,  that  no- 
"  thing  is  fo  arduous,  nothing  fo  admirable  in  human 

affairs,  which  may  not  be  obtained  by  the  induftry  of 

man.     We  are  defcended  from  heaven,  thither  let  us 

go,   whence  we    derived  our    origin.       Let  nothing 

fatisfy    us  lower  than  the  fummit  of  all  excellence. 

This  fummit  then,"  fays  he,   "  I  point  out  as  the 

proper  fcope  of  the  ftudent." 

"  But  labour  muft  be  beloved,  and  the  pleafures  of 
"  luxury  defpifed.  Shall  we  fubmit  to  be  extinguished 
"  for  ever  without  honour,  without  remembrance, 
tf  dvfyu&r  cvott  tn$t9ry[4fa>it  without  having  done  any 
*'  thing  like  men  ?"  The  whole  of  this  chapter  is  writ- 
ten in  a  very  uncommon  ftyle  of  literary  enthufiafm, 
and  I  think  it  can  hardly  fail  of  inflaming  a  youthful 
imagination.  If  fuch  ideas  were  early  infixed  in  the  bo- 
fom  of  an  ingenious  and  ingenuous  boy,  what  improve- 
ment in  virtue,  and  in  all  ufeful  qualities,  might  not  be 
expected  ? 

"  That  we  muft  never  defpair,"  is  the  title  of  his 
third  chapter.  "  If  in  our  afcent  we  fhould  fall  head- 
"  long  a  thoufand  times,  we  muft  begin  to  climb  again 
"  every  time  more  ardently,  and  fly  to  the  fummit 
"  with  recruited  vigour!  Let  no  one  be  dejected  if  he 

"  is 


No.  157.  MORAL,    &c.  297 

"  is  not  ccnfcious   of  any  great  advancement  at  firft. 
"  The  merchant  thinks  himfelf  happy  if,  after  a  ten 
«'  years  voyage,  after  a   thoufand  dangers,   he  at  laft 
"  improves  his  fortune  ;  and  mail  we,  like  poor- fpirited 
"  creatures,  give  up  all  hopes  after  the  firft  onfet.  Quod- 
"   cunqueimperavit  animus  obtinuit.      Whatever  the  mind 
"  has  commanded  itfelf  to  do,  it  has  obtained  itspurpofe. 
"  Riches   muft  have  no   charms,    compared   to   the 
"  charms  of  literature.     Poverty  is  favourable  to  the 
fuccefs  of  all  literary  purfuits.     I  mean  not  to  throw 
contempt  on   money  in   general,  b'ut  on  that  exor- 
bitant wealth  which  allures   the  mind   from   ftudy. 
But  your  parents,"  fays  he,  "  will  rather  chufe  that 
you  mould  be  guilty  of  peijury  or  murder,  than  not 
know  how  to  value  money. 

"  The  ftudent  muft  be  defirous  of  praife.  It  is  a 
"  promifing  prefage  of  fuccefs  to  be  roufed  by  praife 
"  when  cne  (hall  have  done  well,  and  to  be  grieved  and 
"  incited  to  higher  aims,  on  finding  himfelf  blamed  or 
"  outdone  by  another.  He  who  aipires  at  the  fummit 
"  muft  be  paffionately  fond  of  glory. 

"  Thus  have  the  firft  qualities,  indifpenfably  requi- 
*'  fite  in  a  youth  devoted  to  ftudy,  been  mentioned.  He 
"  muft  aim  at  thr  higheit  points,  he  muft  love  labour, 
"  he  muft  never  def]  air,  he  muit  defpife  riches,  he  muft 
"  be  greedy  of  praiie.  It  remains  that  we  prefcribe  the 
"  methods.  There  are  then  three  gradations  in  the 
"  modes  of  ftudy;  hearing,  teaching,  writing.  It  is  a 
"  good  and  eafy  method  to  hear,  it  is  a  better  and  eafier 
"  to  teach,  and  the  bcft  and  eafieft  of  all  to  write. 
"  Ledures  are  dull  ;  becaufe  it  is  tedious  to  confine  the 
"  liberty  of  thought  to  the  voice  of  the  reader.  But 
"  when  we  teach  or  write,  the  very  exercife  itfelf  pre- 
"  eludes  the  tasdium." 

Though  the  treatife  of  Ringelbergius  is  fhort,  yet 
to  make  an  ufeful  ab^reviiiti^n  of  it,  would  require 
more  room  than  the  limits  I  ufually  prefcribe  to 
my  papers  will  allow.  I  mean  only  to  give  a  little 
fpecimen  of  the  manner  in  which  this  very  extra- 
ordinary  writer  has  conipofed  his  once  celebrated 
treatife.  There  are  certainly  many  tilings  |u  jc  which 
can  fcarcely  fail  to  ftimulate  an  honeft  nntid,  f:  nee  rely 
O  5  and 


2SS  ESSAYS,  No.  158, 

and  fericufly  devoted  to  letters.  A  fevere  critic,  or  a 
lover  of"  ridicule,  will  find  much,  both  in  the  matter 
and  the  ftyle  to  cenfure  and  deride.  But  ftill  there  is 
fomething  fo  honeft  and  fo  warm  in  this  writer,  that  a 
good-natured  mirvd  cannot  help  being  entertained  evert 
with  his  abfurdities,  and  inclined  to  overlook  them 
amidft  the  greater  abundance  of  valuable  advice.  I  be- 
Jieve  the  copies  are  not  very  fcarce,  and  earneftly  recom- 
mend, both  to  the  young  ftudent  and  the  lover  of  lite- 
rary curiofities,  to  devote  half  an  hour  to  the  perufal  of 
it,  if  it  Ihouid  fall  into  their  hands. 

Ri  gelbergius  was  a  very  ingenious  man,  not  only 
in  polite  learning  and  in  the  Iciences,  but  in  the  arts 
of  mechanical  writing,  painting,  and  engraving.  In- 
deed thefe  were  his  firti  purfuits  and  employments,  and 
he  did  not  apply  himfelf  to  learning  Latin  till  his  feven- 
teenth  year;  but  fuch  was  the  force  of  his  genius,  that 
he  then  made  a  rapid  proficiency.  He  was  certainly  a 
man  of  genius,  and  though  not  quite  correcl  in  his  lan- 
guage, yet  he  wrote  Latin  with  much  more  fpirit  and 
vivacity  than  moft  of  the  Dutch  and  German  writers  of 
his  age.  He  acquired  the  Greek  language,  and  could 
almoit  repeat  Homer  from  beginning  to  end.  He  was 
Vvell  verfed  in  various  fciences,  and  wrote  ingeniously 
upon  them ;  but  his  tracts  arc,  I  believe,  more  curious 
than  ufeful.  He  would  have  been  an  excellent  writer, 
and  profound  philofopher,  had  he  lived  in  an  age  when 
the  follies  of  judicial  aftrology  were  exploded,  and  hy- 
pothefis  reduced  to  the  teft  ot  experiment. 


No.  CLVIII.        ON    THE     FOLLY     OF     SACRL- 
FlCING    COMFORT    TO    TASTE. 


THERE    are   certain    homely,     but   fweet   com- 
forts and  convenience?,    the   abfence   of  which 
JK>  elegance  can  fupply.     Since,  however,  they  have 
nothing  of  external  fplendour,  they  are  often  facrificed 
to  ihe  gratification  of  vanity.     We  live  too  much  ia 

the 


No.  158.  MORAL,    Sec.  299 

the  eyes  and  minds  of  others,  and  too  little  to  Our  own 
hearts,  too  little  to  our  own  confciences,  and  too  little 
to  our  own  fatisfaclion.  We  are  more  anxious  to  ap- 
pear, than  to  be  happy. 

According  to  the  prefent  modes  of  living,  and  ideas 
of  propriety,    an  oftentatious  appearance  muft  be  at  all 
events,  and  in  all  inftances,  fupported.     If  we  can  pre- 
fcrve  a  glittering  and  glofly  varnifli,  we  difregard  the 
interior   materials  and    fubftance.     Many  (hew  a  dif- 
pofition  in  every  part  of  their  conduct,  fimilar  to  that 
of  the  Frenchman,  who  had  rather  go  without  a  ftiirt* 
than   without  ruffles  ;    rather  ftarve  as   a  count,   than 
enjoy   affluence  and  independence   as  an   honeft   mer- 
chant.    Men   idolize  the  great,   and  the  diltin&ions   of 
fafhionable   life,   with  an   idolatry   fo  reverential    and 
complete,  that  they  feem  to  miftake  it  for  their  duty 
towards  God.     For,  to  ufe  the  words  of  the  Catechifm, 
'  do  they  not  appear  to  believe  in  them,  to  fear  them, 
'  to  love   them   with  all   their  hearts,  with   all  their 
'  minds,     with    all    their    fouls,    and  with    all    their 
4  ftrength,  to  worfhip  them,   to  give  them  thanks,  to 
'  put   their  whole   truft  in   them,  to  call   upon  them, 
'   to  honour  their  names  and  their  words,  and  to  fcrye 
f  them   truly   all   the  days  of  their  lives?"     As  they 
worfhip  f;;Ife  gods,  their  bleilings  are  of  the  kind  which 
correfponds  with  the  nature  of  their  deities.     They  are 
all  fiiadowy  and  unfubftantial  ;    dreams,  bubbles,  and 
meteors,  which  dance  before  their  eyes,  and  often  lead 
them  to  perdition. 

It  is  really  lamentable  to-  behold  families  of  a  com- 
petent fortune,  and  refpedlable  rank,  who  (while  th^y 
deny  themfelves  even  the  common  pleafures  of  a  plen- 
tiful table,  while  their  kitchen  is  the  cave  of  cold  and 
famine,  while  their  neighbours,  relations,  and  friends 
pity  and  defpife,  as  they  pafs,  the  comfortlefs  and  un- 
hofpitable  door)  fcruple  net  to  be  profufely  expenfive 
in  drefs,  furniture,  building,  equipage,  at  public  en- 
tertainments, in  excurfions  to  Bath,  Tunbridge,  or 
Brighthelmflone.  To  feed  the  faihionable  extrava- 
gance, they  rob  themfelves  cf  indulgences  which  they 
know  to  be  more  truly  fatiifaclory ;  for  which  of  them 
reiurneth  from  the  midnight  afl'cinbly,  or  from  the  fum- 
U  6  mer 


300  E     S     St  A    Y    S,  No.  158. 

.::•.'  excurfion?,  without  complaining  of  dulnefs,  fa- 
;r'ue,  prm";,  and  infipidity  ?  They  have  fhewn  them- 
.~y  have  icrn  many  fine  perlons,  and  many  fine 
•>  •n.igs,  but  have  they  felt  the  delicious  pleafures  of  do- 
meflic  pe  :ce,  the  tranquil  delights  of  focial  intercourfe 
at  the:  ;*  lowns  ;:nu  villages,  the  folid  fatisfaftions 
of  a  co:'CJteJ  mind,  the  comforts  arifing  from  a  dif- 
embam.litv.  ibite  of  finances,  and  the  love  and  refpeft  of 
a  neighbourhood  ? 

T  o  ruii  in  debt,  and  be  involved  in  danger  of  arrefts 
and  imprifonment,  are,  in  this  age,  almolt  the  objedlsof 
fafhionable  ambition.  To  have  an  execution  in  the 
houfe,  is  to  be  in  the  fame  predicament  with  this  ba- 
ronet and  the  other  lord,  or  with  his  grace  the  duke. 
The  poor  imitator  of  fpltodu;  miicry,  little  greatnefs, 
and  litied  infamy,  riques  fas  liberty  and  lait  (hilling  to 
become  a  man  of  talte  and  falhion.  He  boafts  that  he 
is  a  happy  man,  for  he  is  a  man  of  pleafure ;  he 
knows  how  to  enjoy  life  ;  he  profeil'es  the  important 
fcience  called  the  Sfavefr  Vi<vre.  Give  him  the  dif- 
tindlion  which,  in  the  littleneis  and  blindnefs  of  his 
foul,  he  confidcrs  as  ths  fource  of  happinefs  and  ho- 
nour. Ailowhim  his  claim  to  ufte,  give  him  the  title 
of  a  man  of  pieafure,  and  lince  he  infift  upon  it,  grant 
him  his  pretenfions  to  S$avcir  Fivre.  But  at  the  fame 
time  he  cannot  deny  that  he  is  haunted  by  his  creditors, 
that  he  is  obliged  to  hide  himfelf,  left  he  mould  lofe 
his  liberty  ;  that  he  is  eating  the  bread  and  the  meat, 
a  d  wearing  the  clothes  of  thofe  whofe  children  are 
crying  for  a  morfel,  and  mi.ering  in  rag?.  If  he  has 
trought  himfelf  to  furh  a  ftate  as  to  feel  no  uneaiinefs, 
when  he  reflects  on  his  embarraflment,  and  its  confe- 
quences  to  others  ;  he  is  a  bafe,  worthlefs,  and  dege- 
nerate wretch..  But  if  he  is  uneafy,  where  is  his  hap- 
pinefs ?  where  his  exalted  enjoyments  ?  how  much  hap- 
pier ad  been  this  boafter  of  happinefs,  had  he  lived 
within  the  limits  of  reafon,  duty,  and  his  fortune,  in 
love  and  unity  with  his  own  regular  family,  at  his 
own  fire-fide,  beloved,  trufled,  refpeded  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, afraid  of  no  creditor  or  perfection,  nor  of 
any  thing  elfe,  but  of  doing  wrong  ?  He  might  not 
iadeed  have  made  a  figure  on  the  turf;  he  might  not 
£  liavc 


No.  158.  MORAL,     &c.  301 

have  had  the  honour  of  leading  the  fafhion ;  but  he 
would  probably  have  had  health,  wealth,  fame,  and 
peace.  Many  a  man  who  is  feldom  feen,  and  never 
heard  of,  enjoys,  in  the  filence  and  fecurity  of  a  private 
life,  all  which  this  fublunary  ftate  can  afford  to  fweeten 
the  cup,  and  to  lighten  the  burthen. 

In  things  of  an  inferior  nature,  and  fuch  as  are  not 
immediately  connected  with  moral  conduit,  the  fame 
predilection  for  external  appearance,  and  the  fame  ne- 
glect of  folid  comfort,  when  placed  in  competition  with 
thedifplay  of  an  affected  taltc,  are  found  to  prevail.  Our 
houfes  are  often  rendered  cold,  final],  and  inconvenient, 
for  the  fake  of  preferving  a  regularity  of  external 
figure,  or  of  copying  the  architecture  of  a  warmer 
climate.  Our  carriages  are  made  dangerous  or  incom- 
modious, for  the  fake  of  attracting  the  paflengers  eye, 
by  ibmething  new  or  fingular  in  their  fhape,  ftrength, 
or  fabric.  Our  drefs  is  fafhioned  in  uneafy  form?,  and 
with  troublefome  fuperfluities,  or  uncomfortable  de- 
feels,  juft  as  the  Proteus,  Jraihion,  ifTues  out  the  ca- 
pricious edicts  of  a  variable  taite.  We  even  eat  and 
drink,  fee  and  hear,  not  according  to  our  own  appe- 
tites and  fenfes,  but  as  the  prevalent  tafte  happens  to 
direct.  In  this  refined  age  we  are  all  perfons  of  tafte, 
from  the  hair-drefler  and  millener,  to  the  duke  and 
duchefs.  The  queition  is  not  what  is  right,  prudent, 
pleafmg,  comfortable,  but  what  is  the  talle.  Hence 
beggarly  finery,  and  lordly  beggary. 

'1  he  iacrifice  of  comfort  to  talte  is  vifible  in  our  mo- 
dern gardens.  I  rejoice  in  the  explofion  of  the  Dutch 
manner.  I  expatiate  with  raptured  eye  and  imagina- 
tion over  the  noble  fcenes  created  by  a  Kent  and  a 
Brown.  But  at  the  fame  time  I  lament  that  our  cold 
climate  often  renders  the  fublime  and  magnificent  tafte 
in  gardening  incompatible  with  comfort  Winter,  as 
the  poet  lays,  often  lingers  in  the  Jap  of  May.  How 
pleafmg  to  itep  out  of  the  honfe,  and  balk  under  a  funny 
wall  covered  with  bloom,  to  watch  the  expanfion  of  a 
rofe-bud,  and  to  fee  even  the  humble  pea  and  bean 
fhooting  up  with  all  the  vigour  of  vernal  fertility.  But 
now  the  manfior.  houfe  ftands  naked  and  forlorn.  You 
defcend  from  the  Eight  of  ilej-s.  You  are  faluted  by 

the 


302  ESSAYS,  No.  isg. 

the  rudeft  breath  of  Eurus  and  Boreas.  No  trees,  no 
walls,  no  out-houfes,  even  the  kitchen  and  offices  fub- 
terraneous.  Not  a  corner  to  feek  the  genial  warmth 
of  a  meridian  fun.  Fine  profpevfis  inJeed  all  around. 
But  you  cannot  ftay  to  look  at  them.  You  fly  to 
your  chimney  corner,  happy  if  the  perfecuting  blaft 
purfues  you  not  to  your  laft  recefs.  We  allow  all  that 
tafte  can  claim.  We  admire  and  love  her  beauties? 
but  they  are  dearly  bought  at  the  expence  of  comfort. 

A  little  and  eiiclofed  garden  adds  greatly  to  the  real 
enjoyment  of  a  rural  retreat.  Though  tafte  has  thrown 
down  the  walls,  and  laid  all  open  ;  I  venture  to  pre- 
dict that  before  the  lapfe  of  half  a  century,  good  fenfe 
and  the  love  of  comfort  will  rebuild  them.  The 
grounds  beyond  may  ftill  be  laid  out  in  the  grandefl 
and  moil  beautiful  (tyle ;  but  let  the  houfe  ftand  in  the 
midft  of  a  little  cultivated  fpot,  where  every  vegetable 
beauty  and  delicacy  may  be  difplayed,  and  where  the 
rigours  of  our  inclement  clime  may  be  foftened  with 
elegant  enclofures.  The  con:rail  between  this,  which 
I  would  call  the  domeftic,  and  the  other  which  might 
be  named  the  outer  garden,  or  the  grove,  would  pro- 
duce an  effect  by  no  means  unpleafing.  They  who 
have  no  tafte  for  flowers,  and  the  thoufand  beauties  of 
an  inclofed  garden,  are  but  pretenders  to  any  kind  ctf 
tafte  in  the  graces  of  horticulture. 

Indeed,  fuch  is  the  nature  of  man,  we  commonly 
advance  improvement  to  the  verge  of  impropriety.  We 
now  loath  the  idea  of  a  ftraight  line,  and  a  regular  row 
of  trees.  But  let  us  not,  in  the  pride  of  our  hearts,  flat- 
ter ourfelves  with  the  unerring  rectitude  of  our  tafte. 
Many  of  the  ancients  who  poflefled  the  beft  tafte,  not 
only  in  poetry  and  eloquence,  but  in  arts,  in  painting, 
fculpture,  architecture,  were  great  admirers  of  planta- 
tions perfectly  regular,  and  laid  out  in  quincunxes, 
However  vanity  and  faihion  may  dictate  and  declaim, 
the  world  will  not  always  believe  that  Homer,  Virgil, 
Cyrus,  Cicero,  Bacon,  and  Temple,  were  totally  mif- 
taken  in  their  ideas  of  horticultural  beauty. 

Cicero  informs  us,  in  a  fine  quotation  from  Xeno- 
phon's  ceconomics,  that  when  Lyfander  came  to  Cy- 
rus, a  prince  equally  diftinguiilied,  for  his  glorious  em- 
pire 


No.  159.  MORA   L,    &c.  303 

pire  and  his  genius,  Cyrus  (hewed  him  apiece  of  ground 
•well  enclofed  and  completely  planted.  A  fter  the  vifuor  had 
admired  the  tall  and  ftraight  trees,  and  the  rows  regular- 
ly formed  in  a  quincunx,  and  the  ground  clear  of  weeds, 
and  well  cultivated,  and  the  fweetnefs  of  the  odoury 
which  exhaled  from  the  flowers,  he  could  not  help  ex- 
prefling  his  admiration  not  only  of  the  diligence,  but  the 
fkill  of  him  by  whom  all  this  was  mcafured  and  marked 
out;  upon  which  Cyrus  anfwered,  "  It  was  myfelf  who 
"  measured  every  thing,  the  rows  of  trees  are  of  my  dif- 
"  poling,  the  plan  is  mine,  and  many  of  the  trees  were 
'<  planted  with  my  own  hand."  An  illuftrious  pattern, 
which  1  hope  our  Englim  noblemen  and  gentlemen  will 
no  be  afraid  to  follow.  Why  always  employ  a  profefT- 
ed  plan-maker  ?  Why  facrifice  their  own  amufement  and 
inclination  to  the  will  of  another,  and  to  the  imperious 
edicts  of  capricious  famion. 


No.  CL1X.  ON  THE  EXAMPLE  OF  HENRY 
THE  FIFTH,  AND  THE  BAD  EFFECTS  OF  AN 
OPINION,  THAT  A  P~ROFLIGATE  YOUTH  IS 
LIKELY  TO  TERMINATE  IN  A  WISE  MAN- 
HOOD. 


THERE  are  thofe  who  confider  early  profligacy 
as  a  mark  of  that  fpirit,  which  feldom  fails  to 
produce,  in  the  fubfequent  periods  of  life,  a  wife  and  a 
virtuous  character.  The  example  of  Henry  the  fifth 
is  often  cited  in  confirmation  of  their  opinion.  Shake- 
fpeare  has  indeed  reprefented  his  errors  and  reformation 
in  fo  amiable  a  light,  that  many  are  not  difpleafed 
when  they  fee  a  young  man  beginning  his  career  in  riot 
and  debauchery.  While  there  is  an  appearance  of  fpi- 
lit,  they  regard  not  the  vice. 

The  example  of  Henry  the  fifth  has  been  applied 
particularly  to  heirs  apparent  of  a  crown.  If  the  fu- 
ture king  is  found  to  be  early  initiated  in  the  exceffes  of 

ienfuality, 


304  ESSAYS,  No.  159. 

fenfuality,  it  is  a  favourable  prefage,  and  we  are  referred 
to  the  example  of  FalfhrPs  H'd.  Jf  he  devote  his  time 
to  drinking,  and  be  actually  involved  in  continual  in- 
toxication, it  is  all  the  better,  for  do  we  not  recollect 
Hal's  exploits  at  the  Boar's  Head  in  Eaftcheap  ?  Dame 
Quickly,  Doli  Tr:;riheet,  are  illuitriuus  initances  to 
prove  what  company  a  prince  ihoi-iu  keep  in  order  to 
become  hereafter  a  great  king.  It  is  in  the  haunts  of 
intemperance  31:1  vie  •,:.  in  the  company  of  fycophants 
and  knaves,  that  he  is,  according  to  the  vulgar  phraie,  to 
fow  his  wild  oats,  to  fpend  the  exuberance  of  his  fpirit, 
to  fubdue  the  ebullition  of  hi>  blood, .and  to  acquire  a 
valuable  fpecies  of  moral  experience. 

It  ic  rue,  indeed,  that  Henry  the  fifth  is  a  remai  kable 
inftance  of  early  profligacy  and  lubfequent  reformation, 
He  \:y  a  '^markable,  becaufe  he  is  a  rare  inltance.  For 
one  who  hicceeds  as  he  did,  a  thoufand  become  either 
incurable  debauchees,  drunkards,  and  rogues,  ruin  their 
character  and  fortunes,  or  die  under  the  operation  of 
fo  rough  an  experiment.  We  hear  not  of  thcfe  who  are 
obliged  to  go  to  the  Raft  Indies,  to  hide  rhcmfelves  on  the 
Continent,  to  fkujk  in  the  garrets  of  blind  allies,  to 
fpend  their  days  in  gaols,  or  are  early  carried  to  the 
church-yard,  amidft  the  thanks  and  rejoicings  of  their 
friends  for  fo  hap;:y  a  deliverance  from  mame  and  ruin. 
But  if  one  wild  youth  becomes  but  a  tolerably  good  man, 
we  are  ftruck  with  the  metamorphofis,  as  we  are  with 
every  thing  uncommon.  We  exaggerate  his  go.'  :neis, 
by  comparing  it  with  his  previous  depravity.  We  cite 
the  example,  as  a  confolatory  topic,  wherever  we  be- 
hold a  young  man,  as  the  fcripture  beautifully  exprefles 
it,  walking  in  the  ways  of  his  own  heart,  and  in  the 
fight  of  his  own  eyes.  We  talk  as  if  we  al moil  congra- 
tulated a  parent,  when  his  fon  has  ipiric  enough  to  vio- 
late, not  only  the  rules  of  decency,  but  alfo  the  molt  fa- 
cred  laws  of  morality  and  religion. 

Such  fatal  ideas  have  broken  the  heart  of  many  a  vir- 
tuous and  feeling  father.  They  have  brought  his  hairs, 
before  they  were  grey,  to  the  grave.  I  have  been  much 
pleafed  with  a  paflage  in  the  fermons  of  the  late  worthy 
Dr.  Ogden,  in  which  he  recommends  regularity  and 
virtue  to  young  men  folely  for  the  fake  of  their  pa- 
rents. 


No.  i^g.  MORA  L,     Sec.  305 

rents.  "  Stop,  young  man,"  fays  he,  "  flop  a  little  to 
"  look  towards  thy  poor  parents.  Think  it  not  too 
"  much  to  bellow  a.  moment's  reflexion  on  thofe  who 
"  never  forget  thee.  Recollect  what  they  have  done 
"  for  ihee.  Remember  all  — all  indeed  thou  canft 
"  not;  alas!  ill  hnd  b-en  thy  lot,  had  not  their  care 
"  begun,  before  then  couldft.  remember  or  know  any 
"  thing. 

"  Now  fo  proud,  felf-willed,  inexorable,  then 
"  couldft  thou  only  aflc  by  wailing,  and  move  them 
"  with  thy  tears.  And  they  were  moved.  Their 
"  hearts  were  touched  with  thy  diilrefs  ;  they  relieved 
"  and  watched  thy  wants  before  thou  kneweft  thine 
"  own  neceflities,  or  their  kindnefs.  They  cloaihed 
"  thee  ;  thou  kneweit  not  that  thou  waft  naked  :  thou 
"  afkedft  not  for  bread  ;  but  they  fed  thee.  And 
"  ever  fmce — for  the  particulars  are  too  many  to  be 
"  recounted,  and  too  many  furely  to  be  all  utterly  for- 
"  gotten,  it  has  been  the  vrry  principal  endeavour, 
"  employment,  and  fludy  of  their  lives  to  do  fervice 
"  unto  thee.  If  by  all  thefe  endeavours  they  can  ob- 
•'  tain  their  child's  comfort,  they  arrive  at  the  full  ac- 
"  coniplifhment  of  their  wiflies.  They  have  no  higher 
"  ohjod  of  their  ambition.  Be  thou  but  happy,  and 
"  they  are  fo. 

"  And  now  tell  me,  is  not  fomething  to  be  done,  I 
"  do  not  now  fay  for  thyfelf,  but  for  them  ?  If  it  be 
"  too  much  to  defire  of  thee  to  be  good,  and  wife,  and 
"  virtuous,  and  happy  for  thy  own  fake;  yet  be  happy 
"  for  theirs.  Think  that  a  fober,  upright,  and,  let 
"  me  add,  religious  life,  befides  the  bleffings  it  will 
"  bring  upon  thy  own  head,  will  be  a  fountain  of  un- 
"  feigned  comfort  to  thy  declining  parents,  and  make 
"  the  heart  of  the  aged  fing  for  joy. 

"  What  lhall  we  fay  ?  which  of  thefe  is  happier  ?  the 
"  fon  that  maketh  a  glad  father  ?  or  the  father,  blcfTed 
"  with  fuch  a  fon  ? 

"  Fortunate  young  man  !  who  haft  an  heart  open  fo 
"  early  to  virtuous  delights,  and  canft  find  thy  own 
"  happinefs  in  returning  thy  father's  bleffing  upon  his 
"  o\vn  head  ! 

"  And 


306  ESSAY    S,  No.  159. 

"  And   happy  father!    whofe  years  have  been  pro- 
*'  longed,  not,  as  it  often  happens,  TO  fee  his  comforts 
"  fall  from  him  one  after  another,  and  to  become  at  once 
old  and  deintute  ;    but  to  tafte  a  nevvpleafure,  not  to 
be  found  among  the  pleafures  of  youth,  referved  for 
his  age;  to  reap  the  harveftof  all  his  c  res  and  labours, 
in  the  duty,  affection,  and  felicity  of  hi.;  dear  child. 
His  very  lock  befpeaks  the  inward  fatisfaclion  of  his 
heart.     The  infirmities  of  his  age  fit  light  on  him. 
He  feels  not  the  troubles  of  life  :  he  fmiles  at  the  ap- 
proach of  death;  fees  himfelf  Mill  living  and  honoured 
in  the  memory  and  the  perfon  of  his  fon,  his  other 
dearer  felf ;    and  pafles  down   to  the  receptacle  of  all 
the  living,  in  the  fullnefs  of  content  and  joy. 
"  How  unlike  to  this  is  the  condition  of  him,  who 
"  has  the  affliction   to  be  the  father  of  a  wicked  off- 
*'  fpring  !     poor,  unhappy  man  !    No   forrow  is   like 
"  unto  thy  forrow.     Difeafes  and  death  are  bleffings, 
"  if  compared  with  the  anguifh  of  thy   heart,    when 
"  thou  feeft  thy  dear  children  run  heedlefsly  and  head- 
"  Jong  in  the  ways  of  fin,  forgetful  of  their  parents 
"  counfel,  and  their  own  happinefs.     Unfortunate  old 
"  man  !    How   often  does  he  wifh  he  had  never  been 
"  born,  or  had  been  cut  off  before  he  was  a  father  ? 
"  No  reflection  is  able  to  afford  him  confolation.     He 
"  grows  old  betimes ;     and  the  afflictions  of  age   are 
*'  doubled  on  his  head.     In   vain   are   instruments   of 
"  pleafure  brought  forth.     His   foul   refufes  comfort. 
"  Every  bleffing  of  life  is  loft  upon  him.     No  fuccefs 
"  is  able  to  give  him  joy.     His  triumphs  are  like  that 
"  of  David:    while  his  friends,  captains,  foldiers,  were 
*'  rending  the  air  with  fhouts  of  victory — he,  poor  con- 
'*  queror,  went   up,  as  it   is  written,   to  the  chamber 
"  over  the  gate  and  wept :  and  as  he  went,  thus  he  faid  ; 
*'  O,  my  fon  Abfalorn  !    my;  fon,   my  fon   Abfalom  ! 
"  would  to  God  1  had  died  for  thee  !   O  Abfalom,  my 
"  A-n,  my  fon  !" 

I  have  introduced  this  pafTage,  with  a  hope  that  gay 
and  thoughtless  young  men  may  be  properly  afrectei 
by  it ;  and  though  they  fhould  have  no  regard  for  them- 
felves,  that  they  ihould  be  led  to  have  pity  on  their 

poor 


No.  159.  MORA  L,     &c.  307 

poor  parents,  and  to  chufe  the  right  way,  that  they  may 
not  caufe  affliction  to  him  who  often  has  dandled  them 
in  his  arms,  nor  to  her  at  whofe  breaft  they  hung  in  the 
fweet  and  innocent  period  of  their  infancy.  It  is  in- 
deed a  melancholy  confideration  that  children,  who 
have  been  the  delight  of  their  parents  during  the  ear- 
lier ages,  no  fooner  arrive  at  maturity,  than  they  often 
prove^  a  fcourge  and  a  curfe.  They  hurry  thofe  out  of 
the  world,  who  brought  them  into  ic.  They  embitter 
the  old  age  of  thofe  who  devoted  the  health  and 
ilrength  of  manhood  to  their  welfare  and  fupport.  Sad 
return  !  to  plant  the  pillow  of  reclining  age  with  thornsl 
—  O  have  pity,  have  pity  on  your  father- behold  him 
with  tottering  ftep  approaching  you  !  With  fuppliant 
hands  and  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  begs  you — to  do  what  ? 
to  be  good  and  happy.  O  fpare  him,  wipe  away  his 
tears  ;  make  him  happy,  be  fo  yourfelf,  -  fo  when  it 
fliall  be  your  turn  to  be  a  father,  may  you  never  feel  the 
pangs  you  have  already  inflifted  ! 

There  are  parents,  indeed,  who  feem  to  have  little 
concern  but  for  the  pecuniary  intereft  or  worldly  ad- 
vancement of  their  children.  While  their  children  ex- 
cel in  drefs,  addrefs,  fimulation,  and  diflimulation, 
they  are  allowed  to  be  as  debauched  and  immoral  as 
they  pleafe.  While  they  poflefs  a  poor,  mean,  and 
contemptible  kind  of  wifdom,  commonly  called  the 
knowledge  of  the  world,  their  parents  are  perfectly 
eafy  ;  though  they  ihould  be  notorioufly  guilty  of  every 
bafe  artifice,  and  plunged  in  the  grofleft  and  moft 
unlawful  fpecies  of  fenfuality.  That  poor  man,  Lord 
Chefterfield,  was  one  of  thofe  parents  who  are  ready  to 
faciifice  their  children's  honour,  confcience,  and  falva- 
tion,  for  the  fake  of  gaining  a  little  of  the  little  ho- 
nours and  riches  of  a  world,  where  not  even  the 
highelr.  honours  of  the  molt  abundant  riches  are  com- 
parable to  the  pofTefiton  tf  an  honeft  heart.  That 
wretched  Lord  fecms  to  have  entertained  very  little 
natural  affection  for  his  fpurious  offspring.  His  pater- 
nal attention  was  all  avarice  and  ambition.  ,He  would 
probably  have  been  delighted  if  his  fon  had  been  at 
an  early  age  a  remarkable  debauchee.  He  would  have 
thought  the  fpirit  which  vice  difplaycd,  a  fureprcg- 

noltic 


308  ESSAY    S,  No.  160. 

noftic  of  future  eminence.  Providence  defeated  his  pur- 
pefe,  and  permitted  his  letters  to  be  exhibited  as  a 
Joathibme  monument  of  wickednefs,  vanity,  and  worldly 
wiidom.  'uch  wifdom  is  indeed  ufu^ily  folly,  even 
\vhare  its  effccls  and  confequences  ate  confined  to  the 
prefect  p  riod  of  exiiience. 

Every  father  then,  and  every  mother  who  deferve  that 
tender  and  venerable  appellation,  will  itrenuoufly  endea- 
vour, whatever  have  been  their  own  errors  and  vices,  to 
preferve  thofe  whom  they  have  introduced  into  a  trouble- 
fome  world  from  the  foul  contagion  and  pollution  of  vice. 
If  they  have  any  regard  for  their  children,  for  their  coun- 
try, for  themfelves,  they  will  ufe  every  probable  means  to 
refcue  the  riiing  generation  from  early  profligacy.  Selfilh 
motives  often  prevail  when  all  others  axe  inefficacious. 
I  repeat  then,  that,  for  their  own  fakes,  they  mult  guard 
their  offspring  from  riot,  intemperance,  and  prodigality. 
If  they  are  mifguided  by  the  example  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 
or  any  other  reformed  rake,  fo  as  to  encourage  their 
children  in  evil,  or  even  to  be  negligent  of  them,  they 
will  probably  repent  in  the  day  of  old  age,  and  find  po- 
verty, ftiame  an4  anguifli,  fuperadded  to  the  weight  of 
years,  and  the  unavoidable  eviis  of  a  natural  decay. 


No.  CLX.       A    GOOD    HEART    NECESSARY  TO 
ENJOY    THE    BEAUTIES    OF    NATURE^. 


BY  a  juft  difpenfation  of  Providence,  it  happens  that 
they  who  are  unreafonably  felfifh,  feldom  enjoy  fo 
jnuch  happinefs  as  the  generous  and  contented.  Al- 
moft  all  the  wicked  deviate  from  the  line  of  reftitude, 
that  they  may  engrofs  an  extraordinary  portion  of 
fbme  real  or  imaginary  advantage.  Their  hearts  are 
agitated  in  the  purfuit  of  it  with  the  moft  violent  and 
painful  emotions,  and  their  eagernefs,  apprehenllons, 
and  folicitude,  poifon  the  enjoyment  after  they  have  ob- 
tained the  polieflion.  The  nature  of  their  pleafures  is  at 
belt  grofs,  fenfual,  violent,  and  traniitory.  They  are 

always 


No.  160.  MORAL,     &c.  309 

always  difiatisfied,  always  envious,  always  malignant. 
Their  fouls  are  bent  ciown  to  the  earth  ;  and,  deltitute  of 
all  elevated  and  heavenly  ideas,  c&leftium  inanes  They 
have  not  powers  of  perception  for  the  iublime  or  refined, 
fatis  factions  ;  and  are  no  lefs  infenfibie  to  the  tranquil 
delights  of  innocence  and  fimplicity,  than  the  deaf  and 
blind  to  the  beauty  of  colours,  and  the  melody  of  mufic. 

To  the  wicked,  and  indeed  to  all  who  are  warmly 
engaged  in  the  vulgar  purfuits  of  the  world,  the  con- 
templation of  rural  fcenes,  and  of  the  manners  and  na- 
ture of  animals,  is  perfectly  infipid.  The  odour  of 
flowers,  the  purling  of  dreams,  the  fong  and  plumage 
of  birds,  the  fportive  innocence  of  the  lamb,  the  fide- 
lity of  the  dog,  are  incapable  of  attracting,  for  one  mo- 
ment, the  notke  of  him  whofe  conscience  is  uneafy, 
and  paflions  unfubdued.  Invite  him  to  a  morning 
walk  through  a  neighbouring  wood,  and  he  begs  to  be 
excufed  ;  for  he  loves  his  pillow,  and  can  fee  no  charms 
in  trees.  Endeavour  to  allure  him,  on  a  vernal  evening, 
when,  after  a  fhower,  every  leaf  breathes  fragrance  and 
frefhneis,  to  faunter  with  you  in  the  garden  ;  and  he 
pleads  an  engagement  at  \vhift,  or  at  the  bottle.  Bid 
him  liften  to  the  thrufli,  the  blackbird,  the  nightingale, 
the  woodlark,  and  he  interrupts  you  by  afking  the  price 
of  docks,  and  enquiring  whether  the  Welt-India  fleet  is 
arrived.  As  you  walk  over  the  meadows  enamelled 
with  cowflips  and  daifies,  he  takes  no  other  notice,  but 
enquire!  who  is  the  owner,  how  much  the  land  lets  for 
an  acre,  what  hay  ibid  for  at  the  lad  market.  He  pre- 
fers the  gloomielt  day  in  November,  on  which  pecuniary 
bufinefs  is  tran fueled,  or  a  feait  celebrated,  or  a  public 
diverfion  afforded,  to  all  the  delights  of  the  merry  month 
of  May.  He  who  is  condantly  engaged  in  gratifying 
his  luft,  or  in  gaming,  becomes  in  a  fhort  time  10  very 
wife,  as  to  confider  the  itndy  of  the  works  of  God  in  the 
creation,  and  the  external  beauty  both  of  vegetable  and 
animated  nature,  as  iittle  fup^rior  to  a  childilh  entertain- 
ment. How  grave  his  afpedt!  No  Solon  ever  looked  fo 
fapient  as  he  does,  when  he  is  on  the  point  of  maki -  a 
bet,  or  infidioufly  plotting  an  in:rigue.  One  im^nt 
conclude,  from  his  air  of  importance,  that  man  was 

born 


3io  ESSAYS,  No.  160. 

born  to  (hake  the  dice,  to  ftiuflle  the  cards,  to  drink 
claret,  and  to  deftroy,  by  debauchery,  the  innocence  of 
individuals,  and  the  peace  of  families.  Ignorant  and 
miftaken  wretch  !  He  knows  not  that  purity  and  li-.n- 
plicity  of  heart  would  furnifh  him  with  delights,  which, 
while,  they  render  his  life  tranquil  and  pleafurable, 
would  enable  him  to  refign  his  foul  at  death  into  the 
hands  of  his  Maker  unpolluted.  What  ilains  and  filth 
it  ufually  contrails  by  an  indifcriminate  commerce  with 
the  world!  how  comparatively  pure  amidft  the  genuine 
pleafures  of  a  rural  and  philosophical  life  ! 

As  a  prefervative  of  innocence,  and  as  the  means  of 
a  moft  agreeable  paftime,  the  love  of  birds,  flowers, 
plants,  trees,  gardens,  animals,  when  it  appears  in  boys, 
as  indeed  it  ufually  does,  fhould  be  encouraged,  and 
iu  a  fubordinate  degree  cultivated.  Farewel,  inno- 
cence, when  fuch  things  ceaie  to  be  capable  of  afford- 
ing pleafure  !  The  heart  gradually  becomes  hardened 
and  corrupted,  when  its  objects  are  changed  to  thofe  of 
a  worldly  and  a  fenfual  nature. 

Man  may  indeed  be  amufed  in  the  days  of  health  and 
vigor  with  the  common  purfuits  of  ordinary  life  ;   but 
they  have   too  much  agitation  in  them  for  the  feeble 
powers    of  old    age.     Amufements    are   then  required 
which  are  gentle,  yet  healthy  ;  capable  of  engaging  the 
thoughts,  yet  requiring  no  painful  or  continued  exertion. 
Happy  he  who  has  acquired  and  preferved.to  that  age  a 
tafte   for   fimple    pleafures.     A    fine    day,    a    beautiful 
garden,  a  flowery  field,  are  to  him  enjoyments  fimilar 
in  fpecies  and  degree  to  the  blifs  of  Elyfuim.     A  farm 
yard,  with  all  its  inhabitants,  conftitutes  a  moft  delight- 
ful fcene,  and  furnifhes  him  with  a  thoufand  entertain- 
ing ideas.    The  man  who  can  fee  without  pleafure  a  hen 
gather  her  chickens  under  her  wing,  or  the  train   of 
ducklings  following  their  parent  into  a  pond,  is  like  him 
who  has  no  muflc  in  his  foul,  and  who,  according  to  bhake- 
fpeare,  is  fit  for  treafons,  murders,  every  thing  that  can 
difgrace  and  degrade  humanity.  Vetalo  iifdemfub  trabi- 
bus,fragilemque  mecumjol'-vat phafelum,   I  will  forbid  him, 
fays  Horace  on  another  occafion,  to  be  under  the  fame 
roof  with  rce,  or  to  embark  in  the  fame  vefTel. 

2  Let 


No.  161.  M  O   R  A  L,     &c.  311 

Let  it:  operate  as  an  additional  motive  in  flimulating 
us  to  preferve  our  innocence,  that  with  our  innocence 
we  prefcrve  our  fenlibility  to  the  charms  of  nature.  It 
is  indeed  one  of  the  rewards  of  innocence,  that  it  is  en- 
abled to  tafte  the  purelt  pleafure  which  this  world  can 
bellow,  without  the  ufual  confequences  of  pleafures,  re- 
morfe  and  fatiety.  The  man  of  a  bad  heart  can  r-nd  no 
delight  but  in  bad  defigns  and  bad  actions  —  nominal 
joys  and  real  torments.  His  very  amufements  are  of 
nec'-ffitv  connected  vviih  the  injury  of  others,  and  with 
a  thotifand  painful  fenfations  which  no  language  can  ex- 
prefs.  But  the  mind  of  the  honeil,  fimple,  and  ingenuous, 
is  always  gay  and  enlivened,  like  fome  of  the  fouthern 
climates,  with  a  ferenity  almoft  perpetual.  Let  a  man 
who  would  form  an  adequate  idea  on  the  different  dates 
of  the  good  and  bad  heart,  with  refpect  to  happinefs, 
compare  the  climate  of  Otaheite  with  that  of  Terra  del 
Fuego,  as  defcribed  by  our  Britifh  circumnavigators. 


No.    CLXI.       ON     THE     PECULIAR     BASENESS 
OF    VICE    IN    NOBILITY. 


MANY,  who  have  been  raifed  to  titles  and  eftates 
by  the  virtue  or  good"  fortune  of  their  anceitors, 
:o  confider  themfelves  as  privileged  to  infringe  all 
the  common  reltraints  eftablifhed  by  a  regard  to  de- 
cency, by  moral  philofophy,  by  natural  and  by  revealed 
religion.  They  have  noble  blood  in  their  veins,  there- 
fore they  prefume  that  the  world  was  made  for  them  to 
take  their  pallime  in  it.  Who,  they  exclaim  (with  a 
volley  of  oaths  and  execrations)  who  (hall  dare  to  fay 
to  us,  thus  far  (hall  ye  go,  and  no  farther  ?  Rules,  laws, 
and  modes  of  y///, -rjlition  were  made  for  the  cana>lle,  for 
the  mufhrpom  race,  who  fprung  from  dunghills,  and 
on  whom  the  fun  of  royalty  has  never  fhed  its  luftre. 
Scarcely  any  of  the  ancient  philofophers  could  boall  of 
this  noble  blood,  and  iVjall  they  prefume  to  dictate  to  a 
nobleman,  that  is,  perhaps,  to  a  baftard  of  King  Charles's 

ftrumpct, 


3*2  ESSAYS,  No.  161. 

ftrumpet,  or  to  the  difeafed  offspring  of  a  leprous,  fcro- 
phulous,  forry  race  of  puifne  lordlings,  whole  names 
ate  only  recorded  in  the  books  of  ruined  tradefmen,  and 
whofe-illultrious  exploits  are  limited  to  the  regions  of  a 
cock-pit,  a  horfe-race,  a  tavern,  and  a  bawdy-houfe  ? 
Shall  a  carpenter's  fon  dictate  to  a  Fitzroy  ?  His  lord- 
fhip  pleads  his  privileges.  Let  him  riot  in  debauchery, 
feduce  innocence,  break  the  peace  of  private  families, 
laugh  at  all  that  is  facred  and  ferious,  for  is  he  not  a 
duke  ? 

You  are  indeed  a  duke  ;  or,  in  other  words,  your 
great-grandfather,  by  good  fortune  or  good  deeds,  ac- 
quired for  you  that  noble  old  manfion-houfe,  that  park, 
thofe  woods,  thofe  lands,  thofe  titles,  all  of  which  you 
bafely  dimonour.  Though  in  your  appearance  you  have 
not  much  of  ducal  dignity,  yet  we  fee  your  ducal  coronet 
on  your  proftitute's  vis-a-vis :  we  fee  you  glorying  in 
your  fhame,  neglecting  to  pay  your  tradefmen,  yet  la- 
viming  your  gold  on  horfes  and  harlots ;  ftooping  to  the 

~  meanell  company  and  diverfion  ,  yet  retaining  all  the 
petty  infolence  of  family  pride  :  we  fee  you  meanly 
fneaking  in  a  court  ;  we  iee  you  rewarded,  notwith- 
ftanding  the  infamy  of  your  private  life,  with  offices  of 
trufl  and  honour;  we  therefore  acknowledge  that  you 
have  all  the  common  attributes  and  outward  figns  of  the 
title  which  you  happen  to  inherit.  You  have  alfo  had 
the  honour  of  a  divorce,  and  enjoy  the  envied  and  bril- 
liant reputation  of  a  profefled  adulterer.  With  a  cha- 
racter and  qualities  fo  noble,  every  Briton  muft  ac- 
knowledge how  juflly  you  are  ialuted  by  the  appellation 
of  your  Grace!  how  juitly  you  are  made  the  compa- 
nion of  a  prince,  and  the  privy  counfellor  of  the  king 
of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Ireland,  defender  of  tie 

faith,  and  over  all  caufes,  ecclefiaftical  as  well  as  civil, 
lupreme !  But,  irony  apart,  who  can  be  furprized,  or 
who  can  lament,  when  fuch  wretches  as  yourfelf  a>« 
the  counfellors  of  kings,  that  the  fubjefts  rebel,  and 
that  the  empire  is  difmembered  ?  Under  a  ruler  like 
you,  who  would  not  glory  in  the  illuftiious  character 
tnd  conduct  of  a  Wafhington  ? 

When  we  read  the  liil  of  dukes,  marquifes,  earls, 
vifcounts,  barons,  and  baronets,  exhibited  in  the  Court 

Calendar, 


No.  16 r.  MORA    L,     &c.  313 

Calendar,  we  cannot  help  wondering  at  the  great  num- 
ber of  thofe  who  are  funk  in  obfcurity,  or  branded  with 
infamy;  and  at  the  extreme  paucity  of  characters  to 
which  may  be  applied  with  jultice  the  epithets  of  decent, 
virtuous,  learned,  and  devout.  Here  we  lee  a  long  lift 
of  titled  fhadows,  whofe  names  are  feldom  heard,  and 
whofe  perfons  are  feldom  feen  but  at  Newmarket  and  the 
chocolate-houfe.  There  we  mark  a  tribe  whom  fame 
has  celebrated  for  thofe  feats  of  gallantry  called,  in  an 
old-fafhioned  book,  adultery.  Here  we  point  out  a 
wretch  ftigmatized  for  unnatural  crimes,  there  a  blood- 
thirfty  dueHift.  Debauchees,  drunkards,  fpendthrifts, 
gamefters,  tyrannical  neighbours,  and  bad  matters  of 
families,  occur  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  fo  frequently, 
that  they  almoft  ceafe  by  familiarity  to  excite  his  ani- 
madverfion.  All  this  may  be  true,  it  will  be  faid  ;  but 
will  it  not  be  true  of  any  other  equal  number  of  men  ? 
I  venture  to  affirm  that  it  will  not.  The  power,  rank, 
and  opulence  of  the  nobility,  aJded  to  bad  company 
and  often  to  a  bad  education,  lead  them  beyond  the  line 
of  common  depravity.  There  is  this  alfo  which  diftin- 
guifhes  their  errors  from  the  ufual  errors  of  human  in- 
firmity ;  they  boaft  of  their  enormities,  and  glory  in  their 
difgrace;  exorbitant  profligacy  is  confidered  as  a  mark 
of  manly  fpirit ;  and  all  who  are  decent  and  regular, 
are  ridiculed  by  the  majority  as  tame,  pufillanimous, 
hypocritical,  fuperftitious,  methodiilical,  prejudiced,  or 
narrow-minded. 

But  allowing,  what  experience  refutes,  that  the -enor- 
mities of  the  nominal  great  are  not  worfe  than  thofe  of 
others,  yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  their  influence  on 
the  community  is  infinitely  more  detrimental.  The 
greater  part  of  mankind  are  weak  and  ill-educated  ;  but 
to  a  feeble  and  ill-informed  underftanding,  riches  and 
titles  appear  to  be  the  nobleft  diiUndlions  of  human 
nature.  Whatever  is  faid  or  done  by  the  pofteflbrs  of 
them,  operates  both  as  precept  and  example  with  irre- 
fiftible  force.  It  is  fufficient,  in  the  opinion  of  many  a 
filly  man  and  woman  of  fafhion,  to  juftify  any  eccen- 
tricity of  behaviour,  that  a  lord  or  a  lady,  whom  they 
proudly  name  among  their  acquaintance,  has  fet  the  ex- 
ample. Deformity  jtfelf,  nwk\vardnefs,  rudencfs,  be- 
VOL.  II.  P'  come 


3?4  ESSAYS,  No.  162. 

come  grace  and  politenefs,  when  exhibited  by  fome 
duchefs  who  affects  fame  by  an  impudent  fingulariry. 
The  court  in  Doctors-Commons  exhibits  frequent  proofs, 
in  the  prefent  times,  that  vices,  direclly  repugnant  to 
the  law  of  God,  pregnant  with  injuries  to  fociety,  and 
fatal  to  private  virtue  and  private  happinefs,  are  become 
fafhionable.  It  is  a  pride  and  pleafure  among  the  blaft- 
«d  lordlings  of  the  day,  to  ftand  forth  in  a  court  of  juf- 
tice,  and  avow  themfelves  the  deftroyers  of  female  virtue 
and  nuptial  felicity.  They  are  travelled  men  ;  and,  like 
true  patriots,  emulating  the  manners  of  that  nation  which 
is  endeavouring  to  deilroy  our  political  exigence,  they 
attempt  to  introduce  the  loofe  principles  of  conjugal  li- 
bertinifm  into  their  own  country.  Thofe  who  have  not 
travelled,  imitate  the  noble  youths  who  have  ;  and  thus 
is  the  fweet  cup  of  domeitic  felicity  almoit  univerfally 
embittered  among  thofe  who,  in  the  regions  of  fafhion, 
pretend  to  fuperior  fkill  in  the  art  of  enjoying  life. 


No.   CLXII.     ON   AFFECTATION    OF  EXTREME 
DELICACY    AND    SENSIBILITY. 


EXTREME  DELiCACY,foefteemed  at  prefent,  feems 
to  have  been  unknown  in  times  of  remote  antiquity. 
It  is  certainly  a  great  refinement  on  human  nature  ;  and 
refinements  are  never  attended  to  in  the  earlier  ages,  when 
the  occupations  of  war,  and  the  wants  of  unimproved  life, 
leave  little  opportunity,  and  Jefs  inclination,  for  fanci- 
ful enjoyments.  Danger  and  diftrefs  require  flrength  of 
mind,  and  neceffarily  exclude  an  attention  to  thofe  de- 
licacies, which,  while  they  pleafe,  infallibly  enervate. 

That  tendernefs  which  is  amiable  in  a  Hate  of  perfecl 
civilization,  is  defpifed  as  a  v/eaknefs  among  unpolimed 
nations.  Shocked  at  the  fmalleft  circumlrances  which 
are  difagreeable,  it  cannot  /upport  the  idea  of  danger 
and  alarm.  So  far  from  exercifing  the  feverities  which 
are  fometimes  politically  neceHary  in  a  rude  flate,  it  ftarts 
with  hoiror  from  the  %ht,  and  at  the  description  of  them. 

It 


No.  162.          MORAL,       &c.  315 

It  delights  in  the  calm  occupations  of  rural  life,  and  would 
gladly  refign  the  fpear  and  the  fhield  for  the  fhepherd's 
crook  and  the  lover's  garland.  But  in  an  unformed 
community,  where  conftant  danger  requires  conftant  de- 
fence, thole  difpofitions  which  delight  in  eafe  and  retire- 
ment will  be  treated  with  general  contempt ;  and  no  tem- 
per of  mind  which  is  defpifed  will  be  long  epidemical. 

The  antient  Greeks  and  Romans  were  the  mod  civi- 
lized people  on  the  earth.  They,  however,  were  unac- 
quainted with  that  extreme  delicacy  of  fentiment  which 
is  become  univerfally  prevalent  in  modern  times.  Per- 
haps fome  reafonable  caufes  may  be  affigned.  The  ftoic 
philofophy  endeavoured  to  introduce  a  total  apathy,  and 
though  it  was  not  embraced  in  all  its  rigour  by  the  vul- 
gar, yet  it  had  a  fufficient  number  of  votaries  to  diffufe 
a  general  infenfibility  of  temper.  It  perhaps  originally 
meant  no  more  than  to  teach  men  to  govern  their  affec- 
tions by  the  dictates  of  reafon,  but  as  a  natural  want  of 
feeling  produced  the  fame  effefts  as  a  rational  regulation 
of  the  paffions,  infenfibility  foon  patted  amongthe  vulgar, 
for  what  it  had  no  claim  to,  aphilofophical  indifference. 

That  refpedful  attention  to  women,  which  in  modern 
times  is  called  gallantry,  was  not  to  be  found  among  the 
antients.  Women  were  unjuftly  confidered  as  inferior 
beings,  whofe  only  duty  was  to  contribute  to  pleafure, 
and  to  fuperintend  domeftic  oeconcmy.  It  was  not  till 
the  das  s  of  chivalry  that  men  (hewed  that  defire  of  pleaf- 
ing  the  fofter  fex,  which  feems  to  allow  them  a  fuperio- 
rity.  This  deference  to  women  refines  the  manners  and 
fof tens  the  temper;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  an- 
tieuts,  who  admitted  not  women  ro  their  focial  converfa- 
tions,  mould  acquire  a  roughnefs  of  manners  incompa- 
tible with  Delicacy  of  Sentiment. 

Men  who  acted,  thought,  and  (poke,  like  the  antients, 
were  unqueltionab'y  furnifhed  by  nature  with  every  feel- 
ing in  great  perfection.  But  their  mode  of  education 
contributed  rather  to  harden,  than  to  mollify  their  hearts. 
Politics  and  war  were  the  only  general  objects  of  puriuit. 
Ambition,  it  is  well  known,  renders  all  other  paflions 
fubfervient  to  itfelf;  and  the  youth  -who  had  been  ac- 
cuftomed  to  a  military  difcipline,  and  had  endured  the 
-bard  {hip?  of  a  campaign,  though  he  might  yield  to  the 
P  2  allurements 


Si6  ESSAYS,  No.  162. 

allurements  of  pleafure,  would  not  have  time  to  cultivate 
the  refinements  of  delicacy.  But  the  modern  foldier, 
in  the  prefent  mode  of  conducting  war,  is  not  compelled 
to  undergo  many  perfonal  hardmips  either  in  the  prepa- 
ration for  his  profeflion,  or  in  the  exercife  of  it.  Com- 
merce, but  little  known  to  many  antient  nations,  gives 
the  moderns  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  opulence  with- 
out much  difficulty  or  danger;  and  the  infinite  numbers 
who  inherit  this  opulence,  have  recourfe,  in  order  to  pafs 
away  life  with  eafe,  to  the  various  arts  of  exciting  plea- 
fure. The  profeffions  of  divinity  and  law,  leave  fuffi- 
cient  time,  opportunity,  and  inclination  to  moft  of  their 
profeflbrs  to  purfue  every  innocent  amufement  and  gra- 
tification. The  general  plan  of  modern  education, 
which,  among  the  liberal,  confifts  of  the  itudy  of  poets 
and  fentimental  writers,  contributes  perhaps,  mere  than 
all  other  caufes,  to  humanize  the  heart  and  refine  the 
fentiments:  for,  at  the  period  when  education  is  com- 
menced, the  heart  is  moft  fufceptible  of  impreffions. 

Whatever  difpofition  tends  to  foften,  without  weak- 
ening the  mind,  muil  be  cherifhed  ;  and  it  murt  be  al- 
lowed that  an  unaffected  Delicacy  of  Sentiment,  on  this 
fide  the  extreme,  adds  greatly  to  the  happinefs  of  man- 
kind, by  diffufmg  an  univerfal  benevolence.  Jt  teaches 
men  to  feel  for  others  as  for  themfelves ;  it  difpofes 
them  to  rejoice  with  the  happy,  and,  by  partaking,  to 
encreafe  their  pleafure.  It  frequently  excludes  the  ma- 
lignant paffions,  which  are  the  fources  of  the  greateft 
mifery  in  life.  It  e.vcites  a  pleating  fenfation  in  cur 
own  breait,  which,  if  its  duration  be  confidered,  may 
be  placed  among  the  higheft  gratifications  of  fenfe. 
The  only  ill  confequence  that  can  be  apprehended  from 
it  is,  sn  effeminacy  of  reind,  which  may  cifqualify  us 
for  vigorous  purfuhs  and  manly  exertions. 

In  the  moil  faccefsful  courfe  of  things,  obftacles  will 
impede,  and  difagreeable  circumftances  difguft.  To 
bear  thcfe  without  feeling  them,  is  fometimes  necef- 
iary  in  the  right  corJduct  of  life  ;  but  he  who  is  trem- 
blingly alive  all  over,  and  whcfe  fenfibility  approaches 
to  lorenefs,  avoids  the  conteft  in  which  he  knows  he 
mt;;i  be  hurr.  He  feels  injuries  never  committed,  and 
K-i-r.ii  ajTronis  nevs>r  intended.  Difguited  with  men 

and 


No.  162.  MORAL,    &c.  317 

and  manners,  he  either  fecks  retirement  to  indulge  his 
melancholy,  or,  weakened  by  continual  chagrin,  con- 
ducts himfelf  with  folly  and  imprudence. 

How  then  (hall  we  avoid  the  extreme  of  a  difpofition, 
which,  in  the  due  medium,  is  productive  of  the  moft  fa- 
lutary  confeqiiences  ?  In  this  excefs,  as  well  as  all  others, 
reafon  mult  be  called  in  to  moderate.  Senfibility  muft 
not  be  permitted  to  link  us  into  fuch  a  ftate  of  indo- 
lence, as  effectually  repreffes  thofe  manly  fentiments, 
which  may  very  well  con  flit  with  the  moft  delicate.  The 
greateft  mildnefs  is  commonly  united  with  the  greateit 
fortitude,  in  the  true  hero.  Tendernefs  joined  with 
refolution,  forms  indeed  a  finifhed  character,  to  which 
reafon,  co-operating  with  nature,  may  eafily  attain. 

The  affectation  of  great  fenfibiliy  is  extremely  com- 
mon. Jt  is  however  as  odious  as  the  reality  is  amiable. 
It  renders  a  man  deteftable,  and  a  woman  ridiculous. 
Inftead  of  relieving  the  afflictrd,  which  is  the  neceflary 
effect  of  genuine  fympathy,  a  character  of  this  fort  flies 
from  milery,  to  (hew  that  it  is  too  delicate  to  fupport 
the  fight  of  diitrefs.  The  appearance  of  a  toad,  or  thi 
jolting  of  a  carriage,  will  caufe  a  paroxyfm  of  fear.  It 
pretends  to  a  fuperior  (hare  of  refinement  and  philan- 
thropy But  it  is  remarkable,  that  this  delicacy  and 
tendernefs  often  difappear  in  folitude,  and  the  pretender 
to  uncommon  fenfibility  is  frequently  found,  in  theab- 
fence  of  witnefles,  to  be  uncommonly  unfeeling. 

To  have  received  a  tender  heart  from  the  hand  of  na- 
ture, is  to  have  received  the  means  of  the  higheft  enjoy- 
ment. To  have  regulated  its  emotions  by  the  dictates 
of  reafon,  is  to  have  acted  up  to  the  dignity  of  man,  and 
to  have  obtained  that  happinefs  of  which  the  heart  was 
conflicted  fufceptible.  May  a  temper,  thus  laudable 
in  itlelf,  ne\er  be  rendered  contemptible  by  affectation, 
or  injurious  to  its  poffefTor  and  to  others,  through  the 
want  of  a  proper  guidance. 


P  3  No.  CLXIII. 


E    S   .S    A    Y     S,  No.  165. 


No.   CLXIII.      ON    TRUE  PATIENCE,    AS    DIS- 
TINGUISHED   FROM    INSENSIBILITY. 


HOWEVER  common,  and  however  intenfe  the  evils 
of  human  life  may  be,  certain  it  is,  that  evils 
equally  great,  do  not  affect  all  men  with  an  equal  de- 
gree of  an  guifh ;  and  the  different  manner  of  fullaining 
evils,  arifes  from  one  of  thefe  two  caufes,  a  natural  in- 
fenfibility,  or  an  adventitious  fortitude,  acquired  by  the 
exertion  of  PATIENCE. 

Apathus,  when  a  fchool-boy,  was  not  remarkable  for 
quicknefs  of  appreheniion, or  brilliancy  of  wit;  but  though 
his  progrefs  was  flow,  it  was  fure,  and  the  additional 
•opportunities  of  ftudy,  which  he  enjoyed  by  being  free 
from  thofe  avocations  which  vivacity  and  warmth  of 
conftitution  occafion,  made  him  a  tolerably  good  fcholar. 
The  fullennefs  of  his  deportment,  however,  alienated  the 
affections  cf  his  teachers;  and,  upon  the  flighted  mif- 
cemeanotirs,  he  often  underwent  the  punifhment  of  the 
rod,  which  he  always  bore  without  a  tear,  and  without 
complaint. 

He  had  not  long  been  at  fchool,  before  his  father  and 
mother  died  of  a  contagious  fever.  Preparatory  to  the 
difclofure  of  fo  mournful  an  event  to  an  orphan  fon, 
"many  precautions  were  taken,  many  phrafes  of  condo- 
lence ftudied.  At  length,  the  matter  took  him  afide, 
and  after  feveral  obfervations  on  the  inflability  of  human 
affairs,  the  fuddennefs  of  death,  the  neceffity  of  lubmif- 
iion  to  Providence,  and  the  inerHcacy  of  forrow,  told  him, 
that  his  parents  were  no  more.  To  this,  young  Apathus 
replied,  by  obferving,  without  any  vifible  alteration  in 
his  countenance,  that  he  fufpedted  fomething  of  that 
kind  had  happened,  as  he  had  not  received  his  letters  at 
the  ufual  time;  but  that  he  had  not  faid  any  thing  on 
the  fubject,  as  he  thought  his  being  poffeffed  of  a  fine 
fortune  by  the  event,  was  a  matter  that  concerned  na- 
bcdy  but  himfelf,  "  For  (fays  he)  as  the  death  was  fud- 
*'  den,  chere  probably  was  no  will*  and  my  father  being 

"  pretty 


No.  163-  MORAL,     &c.  319 

"  pretty  warm,  as  they  call  it,  and  I  being  an  only  fon, 
"  I  think  I  fliall  be  very  well  off."  Here  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  his  mailer,  who  was  now  defirous  of  feme  de- 
gree of  that  grief  which  he  had  before  been  felicitous  to 
prevent — "  And  are  you  not  affected  (faid  he)  with  the 
lofs  of  the  dearcft  friends  you  had  in. the  world;1' — 
Why,  Sir,  (replied  the  inlenfible)  you  have  j.uli  now- 
been  teaching  me  to  fubmit  to  Providence,  and  telling 
me,  we  mult  all  die,  and  the  like  ;  and  do  I  not  prac- 
'  tife  your  precepts  ?"  The  maftcr  was  too  much  aflo- 
nilhed  to  be  able  to  anfwer,  and  haftily  loft  the  young, 
man  ;  who  probably  concluded  the  day  with  a  feaft  of 
gingerbread,  or  a  game  at  marbles. 

Soon  after  he  left  fchool,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to 
enter  into  the  llate  of  matrimony.  But  here  let  the  gentle 
reader  be  informed,  that  he  was  not  induced  to  fubmit 
his  neck  to  the  yoke  by  any  of  thofe  fine  feelings  which, 
conilitute  Icve.  The  object  of  his  choice  had  ten  thou- 
fand  pounds  ;<ind  hj  coriidered  that  ten  thoufand  pounds 
would  pay  for  the  hdy's  board.  When  the  little  prattlers 
were  arrived  at  that  age  when  none  can  behold  them, 
without  pleafure,  they  were  feized  with  an  unfavourable 
finall-pox,  and  feverally  carried  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  The  conflant  attendance  of  the  mother,  on  this 
eccafion,  brought  on  a  fever,  which,  together  with  a 
weaknefs  occafioned  by  an  advanced  ftate  of  pregnancy, 
.proved  fatal.  Then,  at  laft,  Apathus  was  obferved  to 
fetch  a  figh,  and  lift  up  his  'hands  to  Heaven  — at  the 
fight  of  the  undertaker's  bill.  A  thoufand  misfortunes 
in  bufmefs  have  fallen  to  his  lot,  all  which  he  has  borne 
with  feeming  fortitude.  He  is  now,  at  length,  reduced 
to  that  ftate,  in  which  gentlemen  choofe  to  take  lodg- 
ings within  the  purlieus  of  St.  George's  fields :  but  there 
is  no  alteration  in  his  features ;  he  Hill  lings  his  long, 
takes  his  glafs,  and  laughs  at  thofe  filly  mortals  who 
weary  thenifelves  in  wandering  up  and  down  the  world 
without  controul. 

Thus  Apathus  affords  a  ftriking  inftance  of  that  power 
of  bearing  afflictions  which   arifes   from  natural  infen 
fibility.     Stoic  us  will  g;ve  us  a  better  idea  of  Patience 
as  a  virtue.. 

B  4  From 


3">  ESSAYS,  No.  165. 

From  that  period  at  which  the  mind  begins  to  think, 
Stoicus  was  remarkable  for  a  quality,  which,  in  children, 
is  called  (hamefncednefs.  He  could  never  enter  a  room 
full  of  company  without  mexving  his  diftrefs,  by  a  violent 
iurTufion  of  biumes.  At  fchool,  he  avoided  the  commif- 
i>on  of  fault?,  rather  through  fear  of  fhame  than  of  pu- 
nishment. In  iliort,  an  exquifite  fenfibility,  at  the  fame 
time  that  it  gave  him  the  moft  exalted  delight,  frequently 
expo'td  him  to  thekec-neil  affliction.  Thus,  from  being 
acquainted  wiih  grief,  though  a  ftranger  to  misfortune, 
he  acquired  a  habit  of  bearing  evils  "before  any  heavy 
ones  befd  him. 

Stoicus  was  clefigned  for  a  literary  life,  which,  to  the 
generality  of  mankind,  appears  almoft  exempt  from  the 
common  attacks  of  ill-fortune  :  but  if  there  were  no 
other  inihnces  of  the  peculiar  miferies  of  the  ftudent, 
Stoicus  alone  might  evince  the  groundlefihefs  of  fuch  an 
opinion.  From  a  fanguine  temper,  he  was  prone  to  anti- 
cipate fuccefs ;  and  from  an  enterprizing  difpofition,  was 
lirde  inclined  to  fit  down  contented  without  a  confider- 
able  fhare  of  reputation.  Influenced  by  his  love  of  fame, 
he  ventured  to  appeal  to  the  public  tafte,  and  actually 
fem  into  the  world  a  performance  of  great  merit :  but 
as  the  work  wanted  fome  popular  attractions,  it  was  foon. 
negledted  and  funk  into  oblivion. 

An  evil  of  this  kind,  perhaps,  the  merchant  or  the  ma- 
nofadlurer  may  treat  with  contempt.  They,  however, 
Who,  with  the  fame  feelings,  have  been  in  the  fame  pre- 
dicament, will  know  the  anguifh  which  fecretly  torment- 
ed the  diiconfolate  Stcicus.  This  difappointment  was 
the  firft  affliction  of  his  life,  and  on  this  he  long  medi- 
tated without  intermiiuon.  He  has  not  again  ventured 
to  publifh,  and  therefore  has  had  no  caufe  of  uneafinefs 
from  the  ingratitude  of  the  many-headed  monfter  :  but 
the  evils  of  his  private  life  have  been  numerous  and  af- 
fliftive  beyond  conception.  The  death  of  an  amiable 
wife,  a  conftant  ftate  of  ficknefs,  expectations  continually 
difappointed,  have  concurred  to  overwhelm  him  -  but 
all  their  efforts  have  been  fruitlefs.  The  reflections  of 
philofophy  and  religion  fortify  him  againft  every  attack, 
and  I  never  vifit  him  without  obferving  a  placid  fmile  of 

refignation 


No.  164.  MORAL,     &c.  321 

refignation  diffufed  on  his  countenance.  He  is  /enfibl* 
of  the  real  weight  of  every  evil,  and  at  the  fame  time 
fulhins  it  with  alacrity.  He  draws  refources  from  him- 
felf  in  every  emergency,  and  with  the  niceft  feelings  is 
become  perfedly  callous. 

This  is  genuine  Patience,  and  though  the  former  may 
by  fome,  be  thought  a  happinefs,  thelatteronlycan.be 
efteemed  a  virtue. 

Senfibility,  with  all  its  inconveniencies,  is  to  be  che- 
riflied  by  thofe  who  underftand  and  wifh  to  maintain  the 
dignity  of  their  nature.  To  feel  for  others,  difpofesus  to 
exercife  the  amiable  virtue  of  charity,  which  our  religion 
jndifpenfably  requires.  It  conititutes  that  enlarged  be- 
nevolence which  philofophy  inculcates,  and  which  is  in- 
deed comprehended  in  Chriftian  chanty.  It  is  the  pri- 
vilege and  the  ornament  of  man  ;  and  the  pain  which  it 
canfes  is  abundantly  recompenfed  by  that  fweet  fenfation 
which  ever  accompanies  the  exercife  of  beneficence. 

To  feel  our  own  mifery  with  full  force  is  not  to  be 
deprecated.  Affliction  foftens  and  improves  the  heart. 
Tears,  to  fpeak  in  the  ftyle  of  figure,  fertilize  the  foil 
in  which  the  virtues  grow.  And  it  is  the  remark  of  one 
who  underftood  human  nature,  that  the  faculties  of  the 
mind,  as  well  as  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  are  meliorated 
by  adverfity. 

But,  in  order  to  promote  thefe  ends,  our  fufFerings 
mult  not  be  permitted  to  overwhelm  us.  We  muft  op- 
pofe  them  with  the  arms  of  rcafon  and  religion  ;  and  to 
exprefs  the  idea  in  the  language  of  the  philofopher,  as 
well  as  the  poet,  of  Nature  ;  every  one,  while  he  is  com- 
pelled to  feel  his  misfortunes  like  a  man,  fhould  refolve 
alfo  to  bear  them  like  a  man. 


No.  CLXIV.       CURSORY    REMARKS    ON    THE 
ELOQUENCE  OF  THE  PULPIT.      IN  A  LETTER. 

ELOQUENCE  i*s  numbered  among  thofe  arts  which, 
inflead  of  making  a  progr  Hive  improvement  in  the 
courfe  of  revolving  ages,  have  greatly  receded  from  their 
original  excellence. 

P  5  The 


322  ESSAYS,  No.  164, 

The  funeral  orations  and  panegyrics  of  a  few  French- 
men, are  the  Only  pieces  among  the  moderns  which  make 
pretenfions  to  rhetorical  competition.  Thefe,  however, 
appear  very  elaborate  and  unnatural ;  whether  from  the 
barrennefs  of  the  fubjedts,  or  from  the  weak nefs  of  the 
orators,  is  foreign  to  our  purpofe  to  determine.  From 
whatever  caufe  it  proceeds,  it  appears,  that  antient  elo- 
quence is  not  reftored  by  thofe  efforts  which  are  allowed 
to  have  been  moft  fuccefsful. 

In  England,  fo  generally  is  a  tafte  for  folid  argument 
andfubtlereafoning  diffufed,  that  mere  flights  of  imagi- 
nation, when  unfupported  by  truth  and  argument,  are 
little  attended  to.  Thus  it  has  been  faid,  we  have  no 
truly  claffical  hiftory  of  our  own  country.  Elaborate  col- 
lections of  facts,  proceedings  of  parliament,  and  accurate 
tlefcripdons  of  our  navies  and  armaments,  fill  up,  with  a 
jejune  detail,  fome  of  our  moft  celebrated  hiftories.  A 
great  deal  of  fagacity  has,  indeed,  been  exerted  in  the  ad- 
juilment  of  contefted  asras,  unwearied  labour  in  illuftrat- 
ing  obfcure  paflages  in  our  annals,  and  much  patience 
in  the  examination  of  our  records.  But  where,  after  all, 
is  the  painting  of  a  Livy,  and  the  concife  elegance  of  a 
Sallutl  ? 

It  is  not  therefore  furprifing,  that  a  people  who  admit 
r.ot  unneceffary  embelliftiments  in  matters  of  tafte,  and 
who  can  fall  in  love  with  naked  truth  even  when  (he  is 
at  liberty  to  drefs  herielf  in  the  garb  of  fancy,  fhould  re- 
ject mere  ornamental  flourimes  in  the  important  tranf- 
aftions  of  political  debate,  and  the  ferious  proceedings 
of  a  court  of  judicature. 

Thus  the  eloquence  of  the  antients  is  not,  perhaps,  to 
be  found  either  in  the  fenate  or  the  forum  of  Britain.— 
There  is,  indeed,  a  very  great  degree  of  merit  in  many 
of  the  harangues  fpoken  in  thofe  places,  but  they  come 
not  up  to  the  idea  of  Grecian  or  Roman  eloquence.  The 
defetft  however  is  probably  not  fo  much  owing  to  a  want 
of  ability,  as  to  a  voluntary  compliance  with  the  tafte 
and  genius  of  the  nation. 

In  the  pulpit,  indeed,  we  may  find  fome  veftiges  of 
antient   gratory  :   but   waving   at  prefent  the    enquiry, 
whether  we  referable  the  antients   in  this  point,  1  fhall 
p'roceed  to  transcribe  a  few  obfervations  on  pulpit  elo- 
quence 


No.  164.  M   ORAL,    &c.  525 

quence  in  general,  which  I  collected  not  long  ago  by, 
accident. 

One  evening  laft  autumn,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  fields 
near  the  city,  to  enjoy  a  Jittle  frefh  air,  I  obferved  a  man, 
fomewhat  advanced  in  years,  and  of  a  compofed  afpecT- 
faimtering  in  the  fame  path  with  myfelf,  -feemingly  in 
profound  meditation.  For  a  confiderable  time  neither 
of  us  chofe  to  commence  a  converfation  ;  till  at  length, 
when  a  tacit  familiarity  between  us  had  removed  the  re- 
ferve  of  ftrangenefs,  the  old  man  opened  with  an  ufual 
introductory  topic,  the  ferenity  of  the  evening.  For  my 
own  part,  I  never  refufe  to  join  in  one  of  themoft  reafou- 
able,  as  well  as  moft  agreeable  pleafures  of  human  life. 
By  degrees,  thefeverity  of  my  companion's  countenance 
brightened  up  as  the  converfation  grew  warm,  and  he 
told  me  he  had  juit  been  hearing  an  excellent  fermon  at 
an  evening  leclure,  and,  as  was  his  ufual  way,  had  taken 
this  little  turn  in  the  fields  to  meditate  on  ferious  fub- 
jeds  withou.t  interruption.  I  muft:  own  I  was  rather 
itartled  at  hearing  this,  apprehending  I  had  fallen  into 
the  company  of  fome  methodiftical  en.thufiaft,  who  would 
endeavour  to  make  a  profelyte ;  but  upon  farther 
converfation,  I  found  myielf  agreeably  miftaken.  The 
old  man  made  fome  refleclions,  which,  as  they  rcruck  me 
at  the  time,  I  entered  among  my  minutes  aj>  icon  as  I 
returned  home. 

"  You  muft  know,  Sir,"  faid  he,  "  that  I  am  an  old-- 
"  faihioned  man.  i  go  to  church  on  VT^ednc-fdays  an<l 
"  Fridays,  according  to  my  good  old  grandmother's 
"  direftions,  who  (well  I  remember  it)  ufed  always  to 
"  appoint  me  the  bearer  of  her  large  print  prayer-book 
*'  bound  in  purple  morocco.  To  thefe  early  impref- 
**  fions,  perhaps,  I  owe  all  my  oddides  ;  and  you  wilt 
eafily  imagine  what  a  queer  fellow  I  am,  when  I  in- 
form you,  that  I  put  my  family  to  the  iiiconvenienci.- 
of  dining,  on  Sundays,  a  full  hour  fooner  than  com  - 
mon,  for  no  other  reafon  in  the  world"  but  that  I  may 
do  my  duty  towards  my  Maker,  by  going  to  church, 
in  the  afternoon.  While  my  neighbours  are  at  the 
playhoufe,  or  the  tavern,.  I  can  make  fliift  to  kill  time 
at  an  evening  lecture  ;  and  I  often  follow  a  famous 
preacher  of  a  charity  ferrnon,  with  all  theardo.;. 

P  6  *•  which 


3H  ESSAYS,  No.  164:. 

"  which  a  favourite  player  infpires  the  frequenters  of 
"  theatrical  entertainments.  Thefe  are  my  ufual  di- 
"  versions,  and  really,  Sir,  they  have  fome  advantages 
"  attending  them.  In  the  firft  place,  they  are  not  ex- 
"  penfive  ;  for  what  is  a  fhilling  thrown  away  now  and 
'*  then  upon  a  trifling  whim,  fince  every  man  has  his: 
"  hobby-horfe  ;  fuch  as  relieving  a  fufFering  fellow- 
"-  creature,  or  contribviting  to  the  education  and  fupporc 
"  of  a  poor  orphan  ?  Secondly,  lean  go  into  any  church, 
"  within  the  Bills  of  Mortality,  without  danger  of  being 
"  pufhed,  and  fqueezed,  and  trodden  upon,  and  ftifled  to 
"  death,  as  fometimes  happens  to  thofe  who  follow 
"  more  faihionable  diverfions ;  nay,  and  I  can  fit  ths 
«'  whole  time  without  being  in  the  leaft  overheated. 

*'  Now,  Sir,  as  I  have  conitantly  attended  to  various 
"  forts  of  pulpit  eloquence,  I  fuppofe  I  may  pretend, 
"  without  vanity,  to  be  fome  judge  of  it.  Do  not, 
"  however,  exped  that  1  (hall  bring  proofs  of  the  jull- 
"  nefs  of  try  remarks  from  your  Ariftotles,  your  Tul- 
"  lies,  or  your  Quiiuiiians  ;  for  I  am  a  plain,  common 
"  man,  and  if  J  have  any  fenfe,  God  knows  it  is  only 
"  plain  common  fenfe. 

"  Let  me  premife,.  that  I  fhall  now  and  then  make  ufe 
•'  of  the  ufual  terms  of  divifion  and  fubdivilion.  Stichr 
"  for  initance,  as  thofe  edifying  little  words,  Firlt,  fe- 
*'  condly,  thirdly,  to  conclude,  to  come  to  my  next 
"  head,  and  the  like.  Confider,  Sir,  Ihavebeen  long 
"  ufed  to  this  ft)le,  and  naturally  run  into  it. 

'*  Of  preacheisr  1  lliall  reckon  four  kinds;  the  Fine 
"  Man,  the  Pretty  Preacher,  the  Good  Textman,  and' 
"  the  Humdrum. 

"  Firft  then  of  the  iirft  (forgive  my  fermonical  Aylc)',. 
"  namely,  of  the  FINE  MAN  : 

"  A  ftentoroplionic  voice  is  the  fundamental  e:\cel- 
"  lence  of  your  Fine  Man,  and  a  powerful  excellence 
"  it  is.  No  fooner  .has  the  Fine  Man  uttered  the  pa- 
"  thetic  and  fignifkant  phrafe,  '  to  conclude,'  than  I 
"  have  heard  the  whole  row  of  matrons,  in  the  middle" 
"  aifle,  with  one  accord  cry,  *'  humph,'  and  immedi- 
"  ately  fccond  their  exclamation  with  a  torrent  of  tears, 
"  which  Sowed  clown  their  withered  cheeks,  interrupt- 
0  ed  only  by  figus  and  fobs.  The  next  qualification  is 

"  flexibility 


No.  164.  M   OR    A   L,    Ac.  325 

"  flexibility  of  mufcles.  From  this  excellence  arife  thefe 
"  violent  contortions  of  the  body,  that  wringing  of  the 
"  hands,  beating  of  the  breaft,  rolling  of  the  eyes,  foam- 
"  ing  of  the  mouth,  and  one  or  two  more  fymptoms  of 
*'  madnefs,  which  never  fail  to  gain  the  applaufe  of  the 
"  weeping  congregation.  The  next — but  what  am  I 
"  about,  Sir  ?  In  truth  I  cannot  recollect  any  real  ex- 
"  cellencies;  as  for  fenfe,  learning,  argument,  thefe 
"  are  not  to  be  expefted  in  your  Fine  Man  :  but  then 
"  the  want  of  thefe  is  abundantly  fupplied  by  noife, 
•'  nonfenfe,  and  grimace. 

"  To  come  to  my  fecond  head.  Secondly  then,  as 
*'  was  before  laid  down,  we  treat  of  the  PRETTY 
•'  PREACHER. 

"  The  Pretty  Preacher  is  an  imitator  of  the  Fine  Man. 
*'  As  a  copy,  he  is  fomewhat  fainter  than  the  original. 
*'  He  whines,  he  fobs,  he  roars,  but  roars  like  any 
"  nightingale,  as  Shakefpeare  has  it.  A  foft  effemi- 
"  nate  voice,  a  pretty  face  (for  look  ye,  Sir,  a  pretty 
"  face  is  a  more  powerful  perfuafive  than  the  argti- 
' '  ments  of  a  Chillingworth),  and  a  white  handkerchief, 
"  are  the  conflituent  parts  of  a  Pretty  Preacher. 

"  Thefe  two  forts  of  Preachers  are  complete  matters 
"  of  the  paffions,  without  in  the  Icail  addrefling  the  un- 
"  derftanding.  in  troth,  I  cannot  help  comparing  them 
•'  to  a  fiddler  of  old  time,  I  remember  to  have  heard 
"  ofatfchool,  who  made  flocks  and  ftones  dance  jni- 
"  nuets,  ai>;l  rivers  run  the  wrong  way,  and  played  a 
•'  hundred  i'uch  pranks  merely  by  the  found  of  the 
*'•  nddle-ltring-  Juit  in  the  fame  manner  a  Fine  Man, 
"  and  a  Pretty  Preacher,  can  force  the  tear  from  the 
"  eye,  and  the  (hilling  from  the  inmoll  receffcs  of  the 
•'  pocket,  by  dint  of  found,  which,  in  this  cafe,  is  never 
"  the  echo  of  fenfe. 

"  To  come  to  my  third  head.  Thirdly  then,  the 
*'  GOOD  TEXT  MAN  lays  down  good  plain  rules  of  mo- 
•'  rality,  and  confirms  every  precept  by  a  quotation  from 
"  holy  writ.  The  grace  of  elocution  he  never  aims  at. 
"  Rhetorical  flourishes,  new  remarks,  or  beautiful  Jan- 
"  guaSe>  are  no:  to  ^e  required  of  him.  In  fhort,  the 
"  intelligent  part  of  the  congregation  will  fcldom  find 
*'  their  underitandinga  enlightvneJ,  or  their  fancy  amu- 
I  «»  fed 


326  ESSAY     S,,  No.  164. 

"  fed  By  him  ;  but  the  plain  fober-minded  Chriftian, 
"  provided  he  can  diilinguifh  what  the  preacher  fays., 
"  may  carry  away  fomething  for  his  edification. 

"  To  conclude  with  .my  fourth  and  laft  head.  The 
*'  HUMDRUM  feems  to  confider  preaching  and  praying 
"  as  a  kind  of  woi  k,  which  if  he  performs  fo  as  to 
«<  get  his  wages,  he  is  fatisf;ed.  He  reads  the  liturgy 
"  as  he  would  read  a  news-paper.  In  his  preaching, 
"  he  endeavours  neither  to  pieafe,  tofirike,  nor  to  cora- 
."  vince,  but  thinks  the  duty  fufficiently  well  done,  if 
"  it  is  but  done  according  to  the  rubrick,  and  at  the 
«'  eftablifhed  feafons.  To  give  him  his  due,  he  com- 
"  monly  preaches  the  beft  divinity  in  the  language  ;  for 
"  as  he  is  too  lazy  to  compofe,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but 
'*  to  make  choice  of  the  molt  celebrated  compofitions 
'*  of  others,  lie,  however,  murders  every  fentence  he 
"  reads.  For  the  molt  part,  he  chufes  dodlrinal  rather 
"  than  practical  difcourfes ;  but  the  misfortune  is,  that 
"  while  he  is  making  the  inyileries  as  clear  as  the  fun 
"  at  noon-day,  his  audience  is  commonly  afleep  as  fall 
"  as  a  church.  In  a  word,  you  may  form  fome  idea  of 
'M  this  kind  of  preacher,  by  taking  a  view  of  Hogarth's 
"  print  of  the  fleepy  congregation,  wh-re  there  is  a 
"  Humdrum  holding  forth,,  fo  as  effectually  to  infufe 
'•'  peace  and  quietneis  into  the  rainds  of  his  hearers." 

Here  the  old  man's  avocations  obliged  him  to  conclude 
the  converfation,  with  expreffing  a  wiih,  "  That  men 
"  of  virtue  and  learning,  as  the  clergy  generally  are, 
"  would  not  fuffer  the  efteft  of  their  excellent  prayers 
t{  and  difcourfes,  which,  if  well  celivered,  might-re. 
"  form  the  world,  to  be  in  a  great  meafure  loil  through, 
«'  indifference  or  affeclation," 


No,  CLXV. 


No,  165.  MORAL,     &c.  32.7 


NO.   CLXV.       ON    THE    SUPERIOR    VALUE    OF 
SOLID    ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN   CICERO  AND    LORD- 
CHESTERFIELD. 

EJfe  quam  widen.  SALL. 

Cicero.  T\  /TlSTAKE  me  not.  I  know  how  to  value 
i.VJL  tne  fsveet  courtefies  of  life.  Affability,, 
attention,  decorum  of  behaviour,  if  they  have  not  been 
ranked  by  philofophers  among  the  virtues,  are  certainly- 
related  to  them,  and  have  a  powerful  influence  in  pro- 
moting fccial  happinefs.  1  have  recommended  them,  as 
well  as  yourfelf.  But  I  contend,  and  no  fophiitry  fiiall 
prevail  upon  me  to  give  up  this  point,  that,  to  be  truly 
amiable,  they  muft  proceed  from  goodnefs  of  hciirt. — > 
AiTumed  by  the  artful  to  ferve  the  purpofes  of  private 
intereit,  they  degenerate  to  contemptible  grimace,  and 
deteliible  hypocrify. 

Cbeft.  Excufe  me,  my  dear  Cicero;  I  cannot  enter 
farther  into  the  controycrfy  at  prefent.  I  have  a  hun- 
dred engagements  at  leail ;  and  fee  yonder  my  little 
elegant  French  Comptefle.  I  promifed  her  and  myfelf 
the  pleafureof  a  promenade.  Pleafant  walking  enougb 
in  thefe  elyfian  groves.  So  much  good  company  too, 
that  if  it  were  not  that  the  canaille  are  apt  to  be  troiible- 
fome,  I  fhould  not  much  regret  the  dirtance  from  the 
Thuilleries. But  adieu,  mon  chcrami,  for  I  fee  Ma- 
dame *  *  *  is  joining  the  party.  Adieu,  adieu! 

Cic.   Contemptible  wretch  ! 

Chejl.  Ah!  what  do  I  hear?  Recolleft  that  I  am  x 
man  of  honour,  unufed  to  the  pity  or  the  infults  of  an 
upltart,  a  no<vus  homo.  But  perhaps  your  exclamation 
was  not  meant  of  me — If  fo,  why — 

Cic.  I  am  as  little  inclined  to  infult  as  to  flatter  you. 
Your  levity  excited  my  indignation ;  but  my  compaf- 

fion 


328  ESSAY    S,  No.  165. 

fion  for  the  degeneracy  of  human  nature,  exhibited  in 
your  inftance,  abforbs  my  contempt. 

Cheft.  1  could  be  a  little  angry,  but,  as  bienfeanee 
forbids  it,  I  will  be  a  philofopher  for  once.  —  A-propos, 
pray  do  you  reconcile  your,  what  mail  I  call  it  — your 
unfmooth  addrefs  to  thofe  rules  of  decorum,  that  gen- 
tlenefs  of  manners,  of  which  you  fay  you  know  and 
teach  the  propriety  as  well  as  my  lei  f? 

Cic.  To  confefs  the  truth,  I  would  not  advance  the 
arts  of  embellifhment  to  extreme  refinement.  Orna- 
mental educaiion,  or  an  attention  to  the  graces,  has  a 
connection  with  effeminacy.  In  acquiring  the  gentle- 
man, I  would  not  lofe  the  fpirit  of  a  man.  There  is  a 
gracefulnefs  in  a  manly  character,  a  beauty  in  an  open 
and  ingenuous  difpofition,  which  all  the  profefled  teach- 
ers of  the  arts  of  pleafing  know  not  toinfufe. 

Cbeft.  You  and  I  lived  in  a  ftate  of  manners,  as  dif- 
ferent as  the  periods  at  which  we  lived  were  diftant. 
You  Romans,  pardon  me,  n.y  dear,  you  Romans  -had 
a  little  of  the  brute  in  you.  Come,  come,  I  muft  over- 
look it.  You  were  obliged  to  court  plebeians  for  their 
fuffrages  ;  and  if  faults  femili  gaudet,  it  mufl  be  owned, 
that  the  greateft  of  you  were  fecure  of  their  favour. 
Why,  Beau  Nam  would  have  handed  your  Catos  and 
your  Brutufes  out  of  the  ball-room,  if  they  had  mewn 
their  unmannerly  heads  in  it;  and  my  Lord  Modiih., 
animated  with  the  confcious  merit  of  the  large/I  or 
fmalleft  buckles  in  the  room,  according  to  the  tempo- 
rary ton,  would  have  laughed  Pompey  the  Great  out  of 
countenance.  Oh,  Cicero,  had  you  lived  in  a  modern 
European  Court,  you  would  have  caught  a  degree  of 
that  undefcribable  grace,  which  is  not  only  the  orna- 
ment, but  may  be  the  fubftitute  of  all  thofe  laboured 
attainments  which  fools  call  folid  merit.  But  it  was 
not  your  good  fortune,  and  I  make  allowances. 

Cic.  The  vivacity  you  have  acquired  in  ftudying  the 
writings  and  the  manners  of  the.  degenerate  Gauls,  has 
led  you  to  fet  too  high  a  value  on  qualifications  which 
dazzle  the  lively  perceptions  with  a  momentary  blaze, 
and  to  depreciate  that  kind  of  worth  which  can  neitlur 
be  obtained  nor  underftood  without  ferious  attention, 
and  foraetimes  painful  efforts.  But  I  will  not  contend 

with 


No.  165.  MORA  L,      &c.  $29 

with  you  on  the  propriety  or  impropriety  of  the  outward 
modes  which  delight  a  monkey  nation.  I  will  not  fpead 
arguments  in  proving  that  gold  is  more  valuable  than 
tirUel,  though  it  glitters  iefs.  But  I  muft  cenfure  you, 
and  with  an  afperiry  too,  which,  perhaps,  your  graces 
may  not  approve,  for  recommending  vice  as  graceful,  in 
your  memorable  letters. 

CbejL  That  the  great  Cicero  fhould  know  fo  little  of 
the  world,  really  furprifes  me.  A  little  libertinifm,  my 
dear,  that's  all  ;  how  can  one  be  a  gentleman  without  a 
little  Jibertinifm  ? 

Cic.  I  ever  thought  that  to  be  a  gentleman,  it  was 
requifite  to  be  a  moral  man.  And  furely  you,  who 
might  have  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  a  light  to  direcl  you, 
which  1  wanted,  were  blameable  in  omitting  religion 
and  virtue  in  your  fyllem. 

Cbeji.  What  !  fuperititious  too  !  — You  have  not  then 
converied  with  your  fupcrior,  the  philofopher  of  Ferney. 
I  thank  Heaven,  I  was  born  in  the  fame  age  with  that 
great  luminary.  Prejudice  had  elfe,  perhaps,  chained  me 
in  the  thraldom  of  my  great  grandmother.  Thefe  are 
enlightened  days,  and  I  find  I  have  contributed  fomething 
to  the  general  illumination,  by  mypofthumous  letters. 

Cif.  Boait  not  of  them.  Remember  you  were  a  father. 

Cheji.  And  did  I  not  endeavour  moft  effectually  to 
ferve  my  fon,  by  pointing  out  the  qualifications  nece/Tary 
to  a  foreign  ambaflador,  for  which  department  I  always 
defigned  him?  Few  fathers  have  taken  more  pains  to  ac- 
complim  a  fon  than  myfelf.  There  was  nothing  I  did 
not  condefcend  to  point  out  to  him. 

Cic.  True:  your  condefcenfion  was  great  indeed.  You 
were  the  pander  of  your  fon.  You  not  only  taught  him 
the  mean  arts  of  diflimulation,  the  petty  tricks  which  de- 
grade nobility  ;  bat  you  corrupted  his  principles,  fo- 
mented his  paflions,  and  even  pointed  out  objects  for 
their  gratification.  You  might  have  left  the  talk  of 
teaching  him  fafluonable  vice  to  a  vicious  world.  Ex- 
ample, and  the  corrupt  affections  of  human  nature,  will 
ever  be  capable  of  accomplishing  this  unnatural  purpofe. 
But  a  parent,  the  guardian  appointed  by  nature  for  an 
uninftr lifted  offspring  introduced  into  a  dangerous  world, 
who  hlmfelf  takes  upon  him  the  oftics  of  feduftion,  is  a 

moniler 


.33°  ESSAYS,  No.  166. 

•moniler  indeed.  I  alfo  had  a  Ton.  I  was  tenderly  feli- 
citous for  the  right  cpnducl  of  his  education.  I  intruded 
him  indeed  to  Cratippus  at  Athens;  but,  like  you,  I 
could  not  help  tranfmitting  inilrudions  dictated  by  pa- 
ternal love.  Thofe  inilrudions  are  contained  in  my 
book  of  Offices;  a  book  which  has  ever  been  cited  by 
the  world  as  a  proof  to  what  a  height  the  morality  of 
the  heathens  was  advanced  without  the  light  of  revela- 

.tion.  I  own  I  feel  a  confcious  pride  in  it ;  not  on  ac- 
count of  the  ability  which  it  may  difplay,  but  for  the 
principles  it  teaches,  and  the  good,  I  flatter  myfelf,  it  has 
diffufed.  You  did  not  indeed,  intend  your  initruflions 
for  the  world  ;  but  as  you  gave  them  to  a  fon  you  loved, 
it  may  be  concluded  that  you  thought  them  true  wifdom, 
.and  withheld  them  only  becaufe  they  were  contrary  to 
the  profe.Ions  of  the  unenlightened.  They  have  been 
generally  read,  and  tend  to  introduce  the  manners,  vices, 
and  frivolous  habits  of  the  nation  you  admired  — to  your 

..own  manly  nation,  who,  of  all  others,  once  approached 
jnoft  nearly  to  the  noble  Simplicity  of  the  Romans. 

Cbejt.  Spare  me,  Cicero.  I  have  never  been  accuf- 
tomed  to  the  rough  converfation  of  an  old  Roman.  I 
feel  myfelf  little  in  his  company.  I  feem  to  flirink  in 
his  noble  prefence.  I  never  felt  my  inEgnificance  fo 
forcibly  as  now.  French  courtiers  and  French  philofo- 
phers  have  been  my  models;  and  amid  the  diffipation  of 
pleafure,  and  the  hurry  of  affeded  vivacity,  I  never  con- 
fidered  the  graceful nefs  of  virtue,  and  the  beauty  of  an 
.'open,  fincere,  and  manly  character. 


No.    CLXVI.      CONJECTURES    ON  THE  DIFFE- 
RENCE.  BETWEEN    ORIENTAL    AND    SEPTEN- 
•       TRIONAL    POETRY. 

THE  productions  of  the  mind,  like  thofe  of  the  earth, 
are  found  to  have  different  degrees  of  vigour  and 
beauty  in  different  climates.     In  the  more  northern  re- 
gions, where  the  nerves  are  braced  by  cold,  thofe  works 
axe  the-  commonefl:,  and  attain  to  the  greateft  perfection., 

which 


No.  166.  MORAL,     &c.  33  / 

which  proceed  from  the  exertion  of  the  rational  powers, 
and  the  painful  efforts  of  the  judgment.  The  fciences, 
like  the  hardy  pine,  flourifh  on  the  bleakefl  mountains  ; 
while  the  works  of  talte  and  fancy  feem  to  ihrink  from 
the  rude  blaft,  with  all  the  tendernefs  of  the  fenfuive- 
plant,  and  to  require  the  genial  warmth  of  a  nearer  fun 
to  give  them  their  full  luxuriance  and  maturity.  Arif- 
totle,  Newton,  and  Locke,  were  the  natives  and  inhabit- 
ants of  temperate  regions.  Experience  indeed  feems  to 
prove,  that  all  the  mental  powers  exifl  in  their  greatelt 
degree  of  llrength  and  perfection  among  thofe  who  inha- 
bit that  part  of  the  globe  which  lies  between  the  tropic  of 
Cancer  and  the  Arctic  circle.  No  complete  and  celebrat- 
ed work  of  genius  was  ever  produced  in  the  torrid  zone. 

But  whether  the  diverfity  of  genius  in  countries  nearer 
or  remoter  from  the  fun  proceeds  from  natural  caufes,  or 
from  the  adventitious  circumltances  of  difierent  modes  of 
education,  different  views,  and  a  different  fpirit  of  emu- 
lation, it  is  certain  that  the  productions  of  Eaftern  and 
Northern  genius  are  diffimilar.  Some  ingenious  ciitiqs- 
have  indeed  pointed  out  a  refemblance  between  the  Go- 
thic and  Oriental  poetry,  in  the  wild  enthufiafm  of  an, 
irregular  imagination.  And  they  have  accounted  for  it, 
by  fuppofing,  with  great  probability,  that  in  an  emi-- 
gration  of  the  Afiatics  into  Scandinavia,  the  Eailerft 
people  brought  with  them  their  national  fpirit  of  poetry^ 
and  communicated  it  to  the  tribes  with  whom  they  unit- 
ed. The  refemblance,  therefore,  in  works  produced 
fmce  this  union,  does  not  prove  that  the  Northern  and 
Oriental  genius  were  originally  alike.  Thofe  produc- 
tions of  either  which  are  allowed  to  be  original,  and  to 
bear  no  marks  of  imitation,  have  perhaps  no  other  re- 
femblance than  vhat  which  commonly  proceeds  from  the 
fimilar  operation  of  fimilar  faculties. 

It  feems,  indeed,  that  a  caufe  may  be  affigned  for  this 
diverfity  of  Northern  and  Oriental  productions,  without 
attributing  it  to  an  eflential  difference  in  the  original 
conftitution  of  the  human  understanding.  The  imagi- 
nation is  ftrongly  affecled  by  furrounding  objects,  and 
acquires  vigour  by  frequent  exercife.  He  who  is  place4 
in  a  climate  where  the  ferenity  of  the  weather  conilantly: 
prcicnts  him  with  blue  Ikies,  luxuriant  plantations,  and 

funny 


332  ESSAY    S,  No.  166. 

funny  profpedts,  will  find  Ms  imagination  the  ftrongeft 
of  his  faculties ;  and,  in  the  expieflion  of  his  fentiments, 
will  abound  in  aliufions  to  n.-.tural  objects,  in  fimilies, 
and  the  moft  lively  metaphors.  His  imagination  will 
be  his  diilingtufhing  excellence,  becaufe  it  will  be  more 
exercifed  than  any  other  of  his  faculties;  and  all  the 
powers  both  cf  body  and  mind  are  known  to  acquire 
vigour  by  habitual  exertion.  He,  on  the  other  hand, 
whofe  lot  it  is  to  exift  in  a  lefs  favoured  part  of  the 
globe,  who  ii  driven  by  the  inclemency  of  his  climate 
to  warm  roofs,  and,  in  Head  of  bafking  in  the  iunfhine 
amidft  all  the  combined  ber.uties  of  nature,  flies  for  re- 
fuge from  the  cold  to  the  blazing  hearth  of  a  fmoky 
cottage,  will  feek,  in  theexercife  of  his  reafon,  thofe  re- 
fources  which  he  cannot  find  in  the  actual  employment 
of  his  imagination.  Good  fenfe  find  juft  reafoning  will 
therefore  predominate  in  his  productions.  Even  in  the 
wildeft  of  his  fights,  a  methodical  plan,  the  refult  of 
thought  and  reflection,  will  appear,  on  examination,  to 
reftrain  the  irregularities  of  licentious  fancy. 

Confidently  with  this  theory  we  find  Oriental  poetry 
exhibiting  the  moft  picturefque  fcenes  of  nature,  and 
illuftrating  every  moral  fentiment  or  argumentative  af- 
fertion  by  fimilies,  not  indeed  exact  in  the  refemblance, 
but  fufficiently  analogous  to  {hike  and  gratify  the  ima- 
gination. Strong  imagery,  animated  fentiment,  warmth 
and  vivacity  of  expreilion,  all  of  which  are  the  effects  of  a 
lively  fancy,  are  its  conftant  characterises.  The  accu- 
racy of  logic,  and  the  fubtilty  of  rcetaphyfics,  are  of  a 
nature  too  frigid  to  influence  the  Oriental  writer.  He 
feels  not  the  beauty  of  demonftration,  he  purfues  not  a 
chain  of  argument,  and  he  fubmits  to  the  force  of  per- 
fuafion,  rather  from  the  dictates  of  his  feelings  than  from 
rational  conviction.  He  endeavours  to  influence  his 
reader  in  the  fame  manner,  and  commonly  excites  an 
emotion  fo  violent,  as  to  produce  a  more  powerful  effect: 
than  would  be  experienced  even  from  conclufive  argu- 
mentation. 


No.  CLXVII. 


No.  167.  MORAL,    Sec.  333 


No.  CLXVII.  CURSORY  REMARKS  ON  THE 
POETRY  OF  THE  PROPHETS,  OF  ISAIAH  IN 
PARTICULAR,  AND  ON  THE  BEAUTIES  OF 
BIBLICAL  POETRY  IN  GENERAL. 


THE  Sibylline  oracles  owed  their  folemn  air,  their 
credit,  and  their  power  over  the  fancy,  to  the 
dark  and  difficult  ftyle  in  which  they  were  compofed. 
Virgil's  Pollio,  fuppofcd  to  have  been  written  from  a 
hint  taken  from  the  Locks  of  the  Sibyls,  is  the  mofl  ad- 
mired of  his  Eclogues  ;  and  a  great  fhare  of  the  pleafure 
derived  from  the  perufal  of  it,  is  jultly  attributed  to  the 
judgment  of  the  poet,  in  leaving  more  to  be  underftood 
than  meets  the  ear.  The  forebodings  of  Caflandra  were 
not  attended  to  by  the  Trojans ;  and  perhaps  the  true 
reafon  was,  that  they  were  not  completely  underilood. 
The  witches  in  Macbeth  add  to  the  terrible  folemnity  of 
prophetical  incantation,  by  itsdarknefs  and  uncertainty. 

Obfcurity  feems  to  have  been  the  characterise  of  all 
writings  pretending  to  prediction.  It  certainly  incrcafed 
their  poetical  merit,  though,  among  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  it  was  probably  no  more  than  a  ftudied  arti- 
fice to  evade,  if  the  event  did  not  correfpond  to  the  pro- 
phecy, the  imputation  of  impofture.  Thus  were  the 
oracles  of  Apollo  delivered  in  ambiguous  phrafes  which 
frequently  admitted  a  contrary,  and  always  a  doubtful, 
interpretation. 

Without  this  artful  proceeding,  their  authority  had 
not  been  fo  long  maintained.  Frequent  failure,  with- 
out any  fubterfuge  to  preferve  the  prophetical  power  un- 
fufpecled,  would  foon  have  filenced  the  Delphic  prieftefs. 
But  while  the  aenigmatical  prediction  preferved  the  dig- 
nity of  the  oracle,  by  infpiring  awe,  it  contributed  10 
it:>  fecurity  by  facilitating  evafion. 

The  Sacred  Prophecies  have  that  obfcurity  which  dif- 
tinguiflies  this  fpecies  of  writing.  The  final  caufe  of  it, 
hcuever,  was  to  excrcife  the  faith  and  fagacity  of  man- 
kind. 


334-  ESSAYS,  No.  167. 

kfnci.  The  beauty  which  it  adds  to  the  poetry  cannot 
be  fu*ppofed  to  arife  from  defign  or  fkill  in  poetry  as  an 
art,  but  is  the  nrceiTary  refult  of  natural  propriety.  And 
none  but  the  unbeliever  will  fuppofe  that,  like  the  oracles 
at  Delphos,  they  admitted  a  doubtful,  in  order  to  ad- 
roit a  double  conftruclion. 

The  prophecy  of  Ifaiah  abounds  in  the  beauties  of 
Oriental  poetry.  The  tranflation  is  a  literal  one,  and, 
though  it  may  be  found  inaccurate  by  a  Lowth  or  a 
Kennicot,  will,  I  believe,  hardly  admit  of  improve- 
ment in  force,  frmplicity,  and  animation.  It  does  ho- 
nour to  the  feelings  of  the  tranflators,  who,  though  they 
have  performed  their  ta£  with  fo  much  fpirit,  had  no- 
thing elfe  in  view  but  fidelity.  To  refinement  and 
tafte  they  trade  no  pretenrions  ;  and  that  their  work  is 
.fo  well  executed,  muft  have  been  owing  to  the  excel- 
lence of  their  natural  fentiment.  We  have  feveral  lite- 
ral tranflations  of  the  antient  poets  into  Englifh  profe, 
which  are  in  requeft  among  fchool-boys.  In  thefe  we 
fnd  no  remains  of  that  beauty  which  has  been  cele- 
brated in  every  age  from  its  firft  production.  Few  of 
thefe  are  rendered  fo  faithfully,  word  for  word,  from 
their  originals,  as  the  Scriptures,  which,  notwithitand- 
ing  this  difadvantage,  are  the  fublimeit  and  mollinte- 
reiling  books  in  the  Englifh  language. 

That  they  are  thus  excellent,  it  may  indeed  be  faid, 
is  not  to  be  v/ondered  at.  They  proceeded  from  that 
real  infpiration  to  which  the  celebrated  writers  of  anti- 
ouity  only  pretended.  And  if  the  enthufiafm,  which 
the  imaginary  affiltance  of  a  fabulous  deity  excited, 
could  diffufe  that  captivating  fpirit  over  the  works  of  a 
mortal  poet  which  has  charmed  every  fucceeding  age, 
it  will  be  an  obvious  inference,  that  the  genuine  afflatus 
of  the  great  Author  of  the  univerfe  mud  produce  a 
work  of  eminent  and  unqueftionable  beauty.  Such 
reafor.ing  is  plaofible  ;  but,  in  the  prefent  cafe,  it  may 
not  be  improper  to  obferve,  that  the  divine  infpiration 
operated  intentionally  no  farther  than  in  dictating  truth 
of  reprefentation,  and  in  laying  open  fcenes  of  futurity  ; 
and  that  the  beauties  difcoverable  in  the  medium  of  com- 
po'fition,  by  which  thofe  primary  ends  are  accompliflied, 
are  but  collateral  and  fubordinate  effects.  Considered 


No.  167.  MORAL,     Sec.  33; 

as  fuch,  every  man  of  fentimcnt  feels  them  of  a  fupe- 
rior  kind,  and  if  he  judges  by  the  criterion  of  his  ua- 
difTembled  feelings,  muit  acknowledge,  that  though 
they  are  fometimes  refemblod  in  Homer,  they  are  fel- 
dom  equalled,  and  never  excelled.  Take  a  view  of  the 
poetical  beauties  merely  as  the  productions  of  Ifaiah,  a. 
very  antient  poet  of  Juda;a,  and  his  writings  will  furely 
claim  the  attention  of  a  man  of  letters,  as  much  as  thofs 
of  the  native  of  Smyrna  or  of  A  fern. 

They  who  pretend  to  an  exemption  from  prejudice, 
evince  the  futility  of  their  pretenfions,  when  they  attri- 
bute the  general  admiration  of  the  Scriptures,  as  com- 
pofitions,  to  opinions  formed  in  their  favour  in  the  early 
period  of  infancy.  The  truth  is,  the  prejudices  which, 
they  have  unreafonably  adopted  r.gainit  the  doctrines  de- 
rived from  thofe  antient  books,  extend  tliemfelves  to  the 
ftyle  and  ientiment :  but,  furely,  excluilve  of  the  religious 
tendency,  and  of  the  arguments  for  the  authenticity  of 
the  books,  they  claim  a  grent  degree  of  veneration  from 
their  antiquity,  and  jullly  excitetthe  attention  of  criti- 
cifm,  as  curious  fpecimens  of  Oriental  cornpofition. 

It  might,  indeed,  have  been  expected,  from  the  ge- 
neral taile  which  at  prefent  prevails  for  the  remains  of 
antient  Englifh  poetry,  that  thofe  works,  which  juftly 
boall  a  higher  antiquity  than  any  of  the  productions  of 
North  or  South  Britain,  would  have  been  particularly 
regarded.  But,  while  the  ballad  of  a  mirrltrel,  beau- 
tiful, perhaps,  and  well  worth  preferving,  has  been  re- 
covered from  its  duft,  and  committed  to  memory,  the 
family  Bible  has  been  fuffercd  to  lie  unopened,  or  has 
been  perufed  by  many  only  with  a  view  to  painful  im- 
provement, without  an  idea  of  the  poflibiiitv  of  deriving 
from  it  the  elegant  plea  Aires  of  literary  entertainment. 
Yet  even  the  vulgar  often  feel  the  full  efFccI  of  beau- 
ties which  they  know  not  how  to  point  out ;  and  are 
affecled  with  a  very  Itrong  (VrBfe  of  pkaAire,  while  they 
are  reading  the  Scriptures  fole'y  from  motives  of  duty, 
and  a  defue  of  edification.  Ji;  truth,  among  thofe  whofe 
natural  taite  is  not  corrupted  by  falfe  refinement,  which 
perhaps  is  the  moft  numerous,  though  not  the  moll  dif- 
•linguifhed  part  of  the  community,  the  Bible  is  read  as 
5  affording 


33*  ESSAYS, 

affording  all  the  delight  of  pleafing  poetry  and  hiftory  ; 
and  it  may,  therefore,  juftly  be  faid  to  be  the  moit 
popular  book  in  the  Englifh  language. 

But  all  readers,  whether  vulgar  or  refined,  who  fully 
feel  and  acknowledge  the  admirable  touches  of  nature 
and  fimplicity,  which  are  obfervable  in  many  parts  of 
thofe  writings,  will,  perhaps,  receive  additional  fatif- 
faclion,  when  they  difcover  that  their  tafte  is  often  con- 
formable to  claffical  ideas  of  literary  excellence. 

There  is,  in  the  prefent  age,  a  very  numerous  tribe 
of  readers,  who  have  formed  their  tafte  and  fentiments 
from  the  writings  of  the  philofophers  of  Geneva,  and 
from  the  fceptical  fophiftry  of  our  own  countrymen. 
They  are  known  to  make  pretenfions  to  a  very  uncom- 
mon degree  of  refinement  in  their  judgmsnt  of  compo- 
fition,  and  to  condemn  every  work,  whatever  marks  it 
may  bear  of  a  ftrong,  though  uncultivated  genius, 
which  wants  the  laft  polifh  of  delicacy  and  corredlnefs, 
and  has  nothing  fimilar  to  thofe  modern  productions, 
with  which  alone  they  have  been  converfant.  With  all 
their  boafled  comprehenfion  of  mind,  they  feem  to  want 
ideas,  which  may  operate  as  principles  in  forming  a 
jtift  opinion  of  thofe  works,  which  were  compofed  be- 
fore the  invention  of  fyftematic  rules,  and  before  na- 
tive fentiment  was  fuperfeded  by  the  feeble,  though 
elegant,  feelings,  of  which  we  boaft  in  a  very  advanced 
flate  of  civilization.  Under  thefe  unfavourable  prepof- 
feffions,  the  Bible  appears  to  them  as  an  afiemblage  of 
grofihefs  and  vulgarifms,  which,  therefore,  without  de- 
termining upon  the  authenticity  of  it,  they  avoid  read- 
ing, apprehending  that  they  can  derive  no  pleafurc  from 
it,  and  that  they  may  poffibly  corrupt  their  ftyle,  and 
catch  inelegance. 

With  thefe  it  would  be  a  valuable  point  gained,  for 
their  own  fakes  as  well  as  for  fociety,  if  they  could  be 
prevailed  on  fo  far  to  lay  afide  their  prejudices  as  to  open 
the  book,  and  judge  of  it  from  what  they  feel  and  re- 
mark on  a  fair  examination.  If  they  could  once  be  in- 
duced to  read  it  with  avidity,  from  an  expectation  of 
literary  amufement,  they  could  fcarcelyfail  of  receiving, 
at  the  fame  time,  a  more  important  benefit. 

In 


No.  167.  MORAL,     &c.  3<7 

In  an  age  like  the  prefent,  when  all  orders  are,  in 
fome  degree,  attached  to  letters,  he  certainly  renders 
great  fervice  to  religion,  and  confequentlv  to  fociety, 
who  unites  tafte  with  theology,  and  exciu-s  the  attention 
or"  the  carelefs  and  fceptical  to  thofe  books,  of  which  a 
fenfe  of  duty  enjoins  the  perufal,  by  fetting  their  beau- 
ties in  a  new  or  a  ftronger  light. 

And  that  this  opinion  of  the  peculiar  beauties  of 
Ifaiah  is  not  fingular,  if  it  is  neceflary  to  appeal  to  any 
other  proof  than  the  common  feelings  of  mankind,  is 
evident  from  the  judgment  of  a  popular  writer  of  our 
own,  who,  as  he  was  indifputably  a  poet  himfelf,  will 
be  allowed,  by  the  mod  rigid  critics,  to  be  a  competent 
judge  of  poetry.  Mr.  Pope's  Mefliah  is  one  of  the  beft 
known  and  moft  efleemed  of  his  fliorter  works  ;  but  that 
it  derived  its  chief  merit  from  Ifaiah  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  and  the  amiable  poet  felt  a  pleafure  to  acknow- 
ledge. Though  fufpefted  to  have  been  lefs  a  friend 
to  religion  than  to  virtue,  he  neglecled  not  the  op- 
portunity which  this  paftoral  afforded,  to  form  a  coin- 
parifon  between  Ifaiah  and  Virgil,  in  a  few  parallel 
pafTages,  fairly  exhibited  in  a  tranflation  equally  literal, 
and  to  exhibit  the  Oriental  poet  to  great  advantage. 
There  are  many  parodies,  imitations,  and  paraphrafes 
of  this  animated  prophet's  poetry,  all  which,  at  the 
fame  time  that  they  evince  how  difficult  his  excellencies 
are  to  be  equalled,  are  proofs  that  he  has  been  gene- 
rally admired  as  a  poet. 

But,  after  all,  the  reader  muft  judge  of  the  facred 
writings  for  himfelf.  If  he  attends  to  what  he  feels, 
and  lays  afide  prepofTeflion,  his  judgment  will  be  fa- 
vourable and  juft.  To  remove  a  fingle  prejudice, 
which  can  prevent  the  univerfal  acceptance  of  books  of 
univerfal  concern,  is  to  contribute  greatly  to  the  gene- 
ral happinefs.  An  attempt  to  render  the  prophetic 
writers  objefts  of  particular  attention,  in  an  age  when 
our  moft  ingenious  theologiils  are  employed  in  illuftrat- 
ing  their  meaning  at  a  lecture  wifely  eftablifhed  for  that 
purpnfe,  muft,  at  leaft,  have  the  merit  of  being  well- 
timed. 

And  furely  every  one  who  wifhes  to  promote  the  de- 
firable  coalition  of  tailc  with  pietv,  muft  accept,  with 

VOL.  II.  Q_  gr*. 


33«  ESSAY    S,  No.  16*. 

gratitude,  the  labours  of  the  venerable  Lowth,  whofe 
ledtures  on  the  facred  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  and  ob- 
fervatio.ns  on  Ifaiah,  have  difplayed,  in  biblical  litera- 
ture, the  unexpected  charms  of  claflic  elegance. 


NO.   CLXVIII.       ON    PREACHING    AND    SER- 
MON   WRITERS. 


FEW  inftitutions  can  contribute  more  to  preferve 
civilization,    and  promote  moral    and  intellectual 
improvement  among  all  ranks  of  people,  than  the  efta- 
blifhment  of  public  lectures,  in  every  part  of  the  king- 
dom, periodically  repeated  after  a  fhort  interval. 

Such  is  the  light  in  which  are  to  be  confidered  the 
difcourfes  appointed  by  the  wifdom  of  the  church,  to 
be  every  where  read  on  the  recurrence  of  the  feventh 
day.  By  thefe  the  meaneft  and  the  moft  illiterate  are 
enabled  to  hear  moral  and  philofophical  treatifes  on 
every  thing  that  concerns  their  feveral  duties,  without 
expence,  and  without  felicitation. 

And  \vhatever  is  urged  by  men  who  are  ill-affecled  to 
all  religious  initiations,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
great  political,  as  well  as  moral,  benefit  is  derived  to 
fociety  from  a  practice  thus  univerfal.  But  it  is  a  mif- 
fortune  long  ago  lamented,  that  men  are  incapable  of 
eftimating  the  real  value  of  advantages,  till  experience 
has  fhevvn  what  it  is  to  want  them. 

It  is  certainly  true,  that  fmce  the  acquifition  of 
books  has  been  facilitated  by  their  numbers,  oral  in- 
itru&ion  is  rendered  lefs  neceflary.  But  though  books 
are  eafily  procured,  yet,  even  in  this  age  of  informa- 
tion, there  are  thoufands  in  the  lower  claffes  who  can- 
not read.  Befides,  it  is  a  well-known  truth,  that  the 
fame  precepts  inculcated  by  a  living  inftruftor,  adorned 
by  a  proper  oratory,  enforced  by  a  ferious  and  autho- 
ritative manner,  produce  a  powerful  efteft,  not  to  be 
experienced  in  folitary  retirement.  There  is  likewife  a 
fympathy  communicated  in  a  numerous  audience,  which 
attaches  the  mind  more  ftrongly  to  the  fubjedt. 

4  The 


No.  168.  MORAL,    &c.  339 

The  obvious  utility  of  difcourfes  from  the  pulpit  is 
proved  by  the  decifions  of  experience.  For,  notwith- 
ftanding  the  complaints  againft  the  levity  and  profane- 
nefs  of  the  age,  churches  are  ftill  frequented  with  ap- 
parent pleafure.  And  to  be  placed  in  a  fituation  where 
a  go'od  preacher  prefides,  is  by  many  efteemed  a  very 
eflential  requifite  to  an  agreeable  retreat. 

For  excellent  preachers  this  nation  has  been  long 
diftinguifhed  ;  excellent,  not  fo  much  in  the  talents  or* 
an  orator,  as  in  the  compofition  of  difcourfes.  With 
an  uncultivated  voice,  in  an  uncouth  manner,  accom- 
panied with  awkward  attitudes,  they  have  delivered  ha- 
rangues fcarcely  excelled  in  the  fchools  of  Athens.  As 
the  French  have  exhibited  their  characleriftic  levity 
even  in  their  boafted  fermons,  fo  the  EngUfh  have  dif- 
played  their  natural  folidity. 

The  fermons  of  the  laft  century  are  indeed  too  long 
for  the  attention  of  modern  indolence,  but  they  abound 
with  beauty  that  would  reward  it.  Jeremy  Taylor  pof- 
fefled  an  invention  profufely  fertile  ;  a  warm,  rich,  lively 
imagination;  a  profound  knowledge  of  authors,  facred 
and  profane,  poetical,  hiftorical,  philofophical.  He 
has  embellifhed  his  fermons  with  citations  from  them, 
and  has  interwoven  their  gold  into  the  rich  tifTue  of  his 
own  compofition. 

Nearly  at  the  fame  time  with  Taylor  arofe  Ifaac 
Barrow,  a  mighty  genius,  whofe  ardour  was  capa- 
ble of  accomplifhing  all  it  undertook.  The  tide  of  his 
eloquence  flows  with  fmooth  yet  irrefiftible  rapidity. 
He  treats  his  fubject  almoft  with  mathematical  precifion, 
and  never  leaves  it  till  he  has  exhaufted  it.  It- has  been 
faid,  that  a  late  moft  popular  orator  of  the  Houfe  of 
Lords  aflerted,  that  he  owed  much  of"  the  fire  of  his  elo- 
quence to  the  ftudy  of  Barrow. 

His  editor,  Tillotfon,  is  more  popular.  His  merit 
is  unqueftionably  great,  and  his  fame  has  been  extended 
to  very  exalted  heights  by  the  praifes  of  Addifon.  He 
writes  with  fufficient  judgment  and  perfpicuity ;  but 
there  are  thofe  who  venture  to  fuggert,  that  he  has  been 
too  much  celebrated  as  a  model  of  fine  compofition. 
They  allow  him  every  praife  as  a  mofl:  excellent  divine  ; 
but  when  they  confider  him  as  a  writer,  they  think  his 
Q^z  periods 


340  ESSAY     S,  No.  16?. 

periods  might  have  been  fhorter,  and  his  rhythm  more 
harmonious. 

Sharp  has  been  juftly  celebrated  for  the  perfpicuity  of 
his  ftyle,  and  the  ardent  flow  of  unaffected  piety. 

Of  a  very  different  character  from  thefe,  South  has 
obtained  a  great  and  deferred  reputation.  Wit  was  his 
talent,  yet  he  often  reaches  fublimity.  He  is,  however, 
one  of  thofe  authors  who  is  to  be  admired  and  not  imi- 
tated. To  excite  a  laugh  from  the  pulpit,  is  to  infpire 
the  hearer  with  a  levity  of  temper  ill-adapted  to  the  in- 
dulgence of  devotional  feelings.  The  tafle  of  the  age  in 
which  South  flourifhed  gave  countenance  to  pulpit  jocula- 
rity. But  though  it  is  true  that  the  lovers  of  comedy  have 
found  their  talte  gratified  in  the  perufal  of  South's  fer- 
rnons,  yet  the  man  of  ferious  judgment  alfo  will  difcover 
many  folid  arguments,  many  judicious  obfervadons,  and 
many  fine  expreflions,  and  a  great  deal  of  true  eloquence, 
intermixed  with  a  fei  ies  of  profaic  epigrams. 

The  fagacious  Clarke  pretended  not  to  wit.  He 
affected  not  the  ambitious  ornaments  of  rhetoric.  He 
rarely  reaches  the  fublime,  or  aims  at  the  pathetic  ; 
but  in  a  clear,  manly,  flowing  ftyle,  he  delivers  the 
moil  important  doctrines,  confirmed  on  every  occafion 
by  well-applied  paflage*  from  fcripture.  If  he  was  not 
a  finning  orator,  according  to  the  ideas  of  rhetoricians, 
he  was  a  very  agreeable  as  well  as  ufeful  preacher.  He 
was  not  perfectly  orthodox  in  his  opinions;  a  circum- 
jftance  which  has  lowered  his  character  among  many. 
Certain  it  is,  that  he  would  have  clone  more  good  in  the 
world,  had  he  confined  his  labours  to  practical  divinity. 
Speculative  and  polemical  divinity  commonly  diffufes 
fcepticifm,  without  contributing  any  thing  to  moral  re- 
formation. 

The  Term  ens  that  have  been  preached  at  Boyle's 
Ledtures  are  among  the  belt  argued  in  the  language. 
They  have  been  the  laboured  productions  of  the  mod 
ingenious  men.  But  the  whole  collection  never  did  fo 
much  good  as  a  fingle  practical  difcourfe  of  Tillotfon. 

.Atterbury  was  a  polite  writer.  His  fermons  probably 
owed  fome  of  their  fame,  among  his  cotemporaries,  who 
have  lavifhly  applauded  him,  to  his  mode  of  delivery 
iu  the  pulpit ;  for  the  Tatler  fays,  it  was  fuch  as  would 

have 


No.  168.  MORA  L,     &c.  341 

have  been  approved  by  a  Longinus  and  Demofthenes. 
He  feems  to  have  introduced  the  very  judicious  method 
of  addreJling  the  underftanding  in  the  beginning  of  the 
fermon,  and  the  paffion^  at  the  clofe. 

Rogers,  fays  his  panegyrift  Dr.  Burton,  pofiefled  an 
eloquence,  nervous,  iimple,  perfuafive,  and  beautiful. 
An  unftudied  elegance  marks  his  Itvle.  He  feems  to 
have  attained  to  that  nice  judgment,  which  adapted  the 
fame  difcourfe  to  a  ruflic,  a  city,  an  academical  congre- 
gation. In  a  profefled  eulogium  it  is  indeed  allowable 
to  exaggerate;  yet  what  Burton  has  advanced  is  confirmed 
by  perufing  the  fermons  of  Rogers.  They  are  |  erfpicu- 
ous,  folid,  and  written  with  remarkable  cafe. 

Seed  has  obtained  a  great  and  deferved  popularity. 
With  a  rich  and  fportive  fancy  he  combined  a  folid 
judgment.  Unlike  the  generality  of  thofe  writers  who 
affecl  to  be  flowery,  he  abounds  in  found  argument, 
and  in  juft  remarks  on  human  life.  A  fevere  critic 
would  condemn  him  for  a  profufion  of  embellimment ; 
but  I  know  not  how  it  is,  he  had  the  fkill  to  give  re- 
peated pleaiure  without  fatiety. 

Such  are  the  more  popular  of  our  Englifh  fermon- 
writers,  the  models  of  thofe  many  divines,  who,  with  very 
great  merit,  poflefs  not  the  reputation  of  remarkable  ori- 
ginality. To  enumerate  them  all  were  an  endlefs  talk  ; 
for  of  no  books  in  the  Englifh  language  has  there  been 
fo  unceafing  a  fucceflion,  as  of  fermons  ;  and  to  fpeak  of 
living  writers  with  freedom,  is  too  often  like  thrufting  a 
hand  into  the  neft  of  the  home:. 

Of  late  there  have  appeared  publications  of  fermons 
addrefled  to  pedons  of  particular  ages  or  defcriptions. 
Though  fome  of  them  exhibited  a  highly  florid  elo- 
quence, and  were  received  with  great  applaufe,  yet  they 
were  too  much  ornamented,  and,  like  many  kinds  of 
food,  poflefied  a  fweetnefs  which  delights  for  a  moment, 
but  foon  terminates  in  loathing.  They  amufed  the 
imagination,  and  fometimes  touched  the  heart ;  but  they 
left  to  the  underftanding  little  employment. 

Sermons,  which  came  forth  with  lefs  eclat,  will  ftand 

a  better  chance  of  defcending  to  poilerity.     Such  are 

thofe  of  Sherlock,  Seeker,  and  Jortin.     The  happinefs 

of  mankind  is  concerned  in  the  prefervation  of  their 

Q_3  works, 


342  ESSAYS,  No.  168, 

.works,  while  thofe  of  the  frothy  declaimer  are  daily 
dropping  unregretted  into  the  gulph  of  oblivion. 

It  is  to  be  lamented,  that  the  glaring  and  meretricious 
embellifhments  of  the  fuperficiai  writer  are  more  com- 
monly imitated  by  young  preachers,  than  the  chatter 
beauties  of  the  found  divine.  Fine  language,  as  it  is 
called,  with  a  few  hacknied  fentiments  and  addreffes  to 
the  paffions,  often  conftitute  the  whole  merit  of  dif- 
courfes  preached  before  the  mofl  numerous  congrega- 
tions in  the  metropolis. 

The  paftors  of  the  largeft  flocks  ufually  affect  popu- 
larity. Extemporary  preaching  is  one  of  the  jnoft  ef- 
fectual means  of  obtaining  it.  It  always  pleafes  the 
vulgar ;  probably  becaufe  it  conveys  the  idea  of  imme- 
diate infpiration.  It  is  true  alfo,  that  by  pleafmg  the 
vulgar,  it  is  enabled  to  affect  them.  But  yet  there  are 
many  reafons  to  prevent  its  reception  among  the  judi- 
cious. It  may  raife  the  paflions,  it  may  communicate  a 
momentary  fit  of  devotion;  but  from  its  hafty  produc- 
tion it  can  feldom  be  correct  or  folid.  It  is,  indeed,  fel- 
dom  attempted  but  by  the  fuperficial.  The  greuteit  di- 
vines have  not  been  prefumptuous  enough  to  lay  before 
their  audience  the  effufions  of  the  moment,  but  have 
ufually  beftowed  much  time  and  care  in  the  competition 
of  a  fingle  fermon.  We  are  indeed  informed  that 
Clarke  fometimes  preached  without  written  notes  ;  but 
the  number  of  his  printed  fermons  is  a  proof  that  this 
was  not  his  general  practice.  They  who  poflefi  the  abi- 
lities of  a  Clarke  may,  however,  fafely  venture  to  pro- 
duce an  unpremeditated  harangue.  But  they  alfo  would 
do  right  to  recollect,  that  the  orations  even  of  Demo- 
fthenes  himfelf  fmelt  of  the  lamp. 

Againft  thofe  who  prepare  their  difcourfes,  a  general 
complaint  has  been  made,  that  fermons  are  become  in 
thefe  days  merely  moral  efl'ays.  There  was  a  time  when 
apaflagefrom  fcripcure,  well  introduced,  was  efteemed 
a  flower  of  fpeech  far  furpafling  every  ornament  of 
rhetoric.  It  is  now  avoided  as  an  ugly  patch,  that 
chequers  with  deformity  the  glofly  contexture. 

A  profefled  chriftian  preacher,  addreffing  a  profeffed 
chriftian  audience,  mould  remember,  that,  however 
beautiful  his  difcourfe,  if  it  is  no  more  than  a  moral 

dif- 


No.  169,  M    O    R    A'L,     &c.  343 

difcourfe,  he  may  preach  it,  and  they  may  hear  it,  and 
yet  both  continue  unconverted  heathens. 

Every  congregation  of  real  chriftians  wiflies  to  find 
all  morality  deduced  from  fcripture,  and  confirmed  by 
it.  Moral  precepts,  thus  adorned,  come  from  the  pul- 
pit as  from  an  oracle.  Scriptural  language  is  not  inele- 
gant;  but  if  it  were,  a  preacher  mould  let  motives  of 
duty  exclude  oftentation.  In  truth,  he  never  appears  to 
greater  advantage,  than  when  he  feems  to  forget  his  own 
excellence,  and  to  lofe  fight  of  himfelf  in  the  earneft- 
nefs  of  his  endeavours  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his  au- 
dience. 


No.  CLXIX.    ON  THE  NEGLECT  OF  ANTIENT 
AUTHORS.       IN   A  LETTER. 


7'  HOUGH  it  be  true,  as  you  remark,  that,  in  the 
prefent  times,  learning  is  univerfally  admired, 
and  the  character  of  a  man  of  talte  and  letters  is  aftefted 
not  only  in  colleges,  but  in  polite  circles ;  not  only  by 
the  pnilofopher,  but  by  the  be^u  and  the  coxcomb;  yet 
is  it  to  be  lamented,  that  there  feems  to  remain  no  ge- 
neral relifh  for  folid  erudition,  very  little  veneration  for 
the  fnimitable  productions  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and 
but  a  flight  attention  to  the  more  abitrufe  fciences,  and- 
abitra&edciifquifnions.  We  read  for  pleafure,  foramufe- 
ment,  for  mere  paftime,  which  dry  argument  and  con- 
nected reafoning  cannot  always  furnifh  Light,  airy, 
fuperficial  compofitions,  without  fatiguing  the  intellect, 
flatter  the  imagination  ;  and  for  the  fake  of  this  empty 
fatisfaction,  to  this  trivial  kind  of  reading  is  our  time 
devoted,  without  regard  to  improvement  of  morals,  or 
enlargement  of  underflanding. 

From  neglecting  the  writers  of  antiquity,  we  become 
ignorant  of  their  beauties,  vainly  fuppofe  that  excel- 
lence is  confined  to  modern  authors,  and  that  the 
ancients  can  be  admired  only  by  prejudice  and  bigotry. 
Even  they  who  are  really  fenfible  of  the  excellence  of 
CU  the 


344  K     S     S     A     Y     S,  No.  169. 

the  claHics,  sre  willing,  became  they  have  negledled  the 
ftudy  of  them,  to  depreciate  their  merits,  and  to  exte- 
nuate the  infamy  of  their  ignorance,  by  pretending  that 
the  knowledge  of  them  is  not  defirable.  Some  there 
ate,  who,  though  they  profefs  an  admiration  of  the 
ancients,  read  them  nofin  the  original?,  becaufe  they 
think  i:  poflible,  without  the  trouble  of  loading  their 
memories  with  dead  languages,  to  talteall  their  beauties 
through  the  medium  of  tranflations. 

To  thofe  who  affirm,  that  an  admiration  of  the  an- 
tients  is  founded  on  prejudice,  it  is  fufficient  to  reply, 
that  the  unanimous  applaufe  of  whole  nations,  for  many 
ages,  cannot,  with  the  appearance  of  reafon,  be  attri- 
buted to  implicit  attachment,  or  ignorant  wonder. 

At  for  thofe  who  condemn  the  Greek  and  Latin  au- 
thors, becaufe  they  will  not  take  the  pains  to  underftand 
them,  they  are  to  be  cenfured  for  their  indolence,  and 
defpifed  for  their  artifice:  and  they  who  read  a  Horace, 
or  a  Virgil  in  an  Englifh  tranfiation,  however  well  per- 
formed, muft  be  told,  that  they  will  form  no  better  idea 
of  the  inexprefiible  graces  of  thefe  poets,  than  they  would 
receive  of  the  mafter-pieces  of  a  Raphael  or  a  Guido, 
from  the  daubing  of  a  mere  copyift.  In  the  transfufion. 
from  one  language  to  another,  as  it  has  been  frequently 
remarked,  the  fpirit  evaporates,  and  feldom  any  thing 
remains  but  a  caput  mortuum. 

The  matter  may  be  preferved,  the  ideas  juftly  exhi- 
bited, the  hiftorica)  part  accurately  reprefented  ;  but  the 
manner,  the  ftyle,  the  beauties  of  didion,  which  confti- 
tute  more  than  half  the  excellence  of  the  claffics,  can  fel- 
dom  be  transferred  to  a  modern  language.  They  who 
read  Tranflations  only,  are  like  thofe  who  view  the  figures 
of  a  beautiful  piece  of  tapeilry  on  the  wrong  fide. 

7  muft  then  eirneftly  recommend  it  to  you,  if  you 
wiih  to  tafte  the  genuine  fweets  of  the  ciaffic  Itreams,  to 
drink  at  the  fountain, 


No,  CLXX. 


No.  170.  MORAL,    &c.  345 


No.    CLXX.         ON    THE    RETIREMENT    OF     A 
COUNTRY    TOWN.       IN    A    LETTER. 

Rom<e  rus  optas,  abfentem  rufticus  urbem 
1'ollis  ad  aftra Ho  R  . 


S  I  R, 

MY  father  had  a  lucrative  place  in  the  Cuftoms ; 
but  as  his  family  was  large,  he  was  unable  to 
leave  us  fortunes,  and  contented  himfelf  with  placing 
us  in  fucli  fituations  in  the  world,  as  would  give  us  an 
opportunity  of  acquiring  a  decent  provifion,  if  wefhould 
not  be  wanting  to  ourfelves.  It  was  my  lot,  after  hav- 
ing received  a  tincture  of  claflical  education,  to  be  put 
apprentice  to  a  genteel  bufmefs  at  the  well  end  of  the 
town.  As  foon  as  I  was  out  of  my  time,  I  fet  up  for 
myit'lf ;  and  though  I  cannot  boait  that  I  ever  was  in  a 
very  great  way,  yet,  by  attention  and  frugality,  I  had 
accumulated,  at  the  age  of  forty,  a  fum  fufiicient  to 
enable  me  to  live  in  a  comfortable  manner,  without  the 
anxiety  and  confinement  of  trade.  A  handfome  legacy 
from  a  relation  of  my  wife,  at  once  determined  me,  in 
niy  long  meditated  intention,  to  fell  off  at  prime  coft, 
and  retire. 

I  had  always  entertained  a  great  idea  of  the  happinefc 
of  living  in  the  country.  It  was,  indeed,  natural  m 
one  who  had  dwelt  near  forty  years  in  a  dufly  warehoufe, 
amidit  the  dirt,  fmoke,  and  noife  of  the  Strand  ;  aod 
who  had  feldom  made  an  excurfion  beyond  the  cake- 
houfe  at  Hoxton,  or  the  bowling-green  at  Hackney. 

One  morning,  while  I  was  revolving  in  my  mind  the 
idea  of  retirement,  I  happened  to  caft  my  eye  on  an 
advertifement  in  the  news-paper,  in  which  a  koufe, 
garden,  and  grounds,  in  a  market  town,  about  five  and 
thirty  miles  from  London,  were  announced  to  be  let  at 
fifty  pounds  a  year.  ThU  appeared  to  me  too  advanta* 
gtou..  a  Bargain  to  be  negleded  ;  for,  you  mult  know, 
Igave  a  hundred  a  year  for  my  (hop,  the  area  of  which 


346  ESSAYS,  No.  170. 

was  no  more  than  three  yards  by  four  ;  and  here  were 
twenty  acres  of  land,  and  a  manfion  that  would  contain 
my  houfe  ten  times  over,  to  be  let  for  half  the  money. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  loft  :  I  {hut  up  ihop,  took  my 
wife  and  family  down,  and  fettled  immediately. 

As  I  did  not  go  into  the  country  on  an  oeconomical 

flan,  I  was  refolved  to  launch  out  a  little,  and  live,  as 
could  very  well  afford  it,  in  a  moderately  genteel  ftyle. 
I  fet  up  a  poft-chaife,  kept  feveral  horfes,  and  two 
livery-fervants.  This  appearance  placed  me  on  a  level 
with  the  beft  families  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  ac- 
cordingly I  was  vifited  by  all  who  claimed  the  rank  of 
gentlefolks. 

But,  alas !  I  found  not,  in  this  place,  that  happinefs 
which  I  expedled.  I  have  been  convinced  by  expe- 
rience, that  a  market  town  is  not  a  proper  fituation  for 
the  retirement  of  thofe  who  wifh  to  tafte  the  pleafures  of 
rural  life,  and  to  pafs  the  evening  of  their  days  in  a 
ilate  of  tranquillity.  That  you  may  judge  of  the  im- 
propriety of  fuch  a  retreat,  I  fhall  give  you  an  account 
of  my  reception  in  it,  and  of  feveral  circumflances, 
which  render  it  lefs  fit  for  the  enjoyments  of  thofe 
peaceful  and  domeflic  pleafures,  which  every  one  who 
retires  from  bufinefs  expedts,  than  the  noifiefl  ftreet  in 
the  metropolis  of  the  empire. 

The  firft  vifits  were  paid  us  from  motives  of  curiofity, 
under  the  pretence  of  politenefs.  Our  perfons,  our  ad- 
drefs,  our  characters,  were  examined  with  all  the  feve- 
rity  of  criticifm,  but  without  the  candour  of  benevo- 
lence. The  various  remarks  that  were  made,  furnifhed, 
with  improvements  and  embellifhments,  an  inexhauft- 
jble  fund  of  converfation  for  the  next  three  months ; 
and  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  procuring  the  literal 
reports  of  one  or  two  of  our  examiners,  which,  as 
they  have  entertained  me,  I  fhall  communicate  for  your 
amufement. 

In  the  morning,  after  her  firft  vifit,  the  'fquire's  wife 
fet  out  to  eafe  her  mind  of  the  burden  of  intelligence  un- 
der which  it  laboured  ;  which  me  did,  in  every  houfe 
fhe  entered,  in  nearly  the  following  words  : 

"  Well,  have  you  feen  the  new-comers  ?  Pray  how 
"  do  you  like  Mrs.  Townfend  ?  Oh  !  I  have  a  charm- 

"  ing 


No.  170.  M    O    R    A    L,    &c.  347 

"  ing  little  anecdote  concerning  her.  You  mufl  know, 
"  1  have  learnt  who  fhe  was  before  fhe  was  married.  I 
"  thought  as  much— do  you  know  her  father  was  a 
"  cheefemonger  in  Thames  ftreet— but  he  broke,  you 
"  muft  know,  and  fo  Mifs  was  taken  from  boarding- 
fchool,  and  in  procefs  of  time  arrived  at  the  high 
dignity  of  upper-maid  to  alderman  Portfoken's  lady. 
But,  being  vait  pretty,  you  muft  know,  and  having 
had  a  prodigious  fine  education,  Mr.  Townfend  the 
common-council-man  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  mar- 
ried her.  This  is  all  fact,  you  may  depend  upon 
it ;  for  our  Sally  heard  it  this  very  morning  at  the 
fhop.  —  Can't  flay;  but  thought  I  would  call  and  let 
you  know.  You  fee  how  high  fome  people  hold  up 
their  heads,  but  you'll  underltand  how  to  look  upon 
'em  now. — I  have  a  little  hundred  places  to  call  at  ; 
fo  good  morning." 
Mifs  Prue,  a  maiden  lady  of  irreproachable  chancier, 
fet  oft" on  the  fame  expedition,  as  foon  as  fhe  had  put  on- 
her  morning-cap.  Brimful  of  news,,  me  could  hardly 
contain  herlelf  till  fhe  arrived  (as  Foote  defcribesit)  at 
the  lawyer's  brafs-knockerand  mahogany-coloured  door. 
Jvo  fooner  was  fhe  feated,  than  ou.t  it  flew — 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Leafuni,  we  were  at  the  new-comers' 
"  laft  night;  and  fuch  a  night;  Why  they  know  no 
*'  more  of  cards,  than  if  they  had  not  been  ufed  to  play 
"  above  five  or  fix  times  a  week  in  their  lives.  As  to 
"  the  father  and  mother,  one  fhould  not  expect  much 
"  from  perfons,  who,  I  fuppofe,  got  all  their  money 
"  in  Houndfdhch;  but  really  I  pity  the  poor  girls, 
"  They  fat  filent  half  an  hour;  and  then  a  iked  me, 
Lord  help  'em  !  if  1  had  read  the  laft  new  thing  that 
came  out  ?  Pray  what  do  you  think  of  th-: 
-  Some  people  fay  the  younger  is  handlonie  ;  and 
indeed  fhe  does  feem  very  good-natured.  But  as  to 
beauty  ! — all  I  fh.ill  fay  is — fhe  floes  net  pleafe  me. 
To  be  fure,  they  are  both  fair  enougu  too — their 
features  pretty  regular,  and  fome  think  their  eyes 
very  fine — but,  Lord  !  fo  awkward,  fo  model},  and 
yet,  at  the  Tame  time,  fomuch  of  the  city  air  about 
them,  that  they  are  abfolutoly  intolerable. — In  fliorr,  . 
1  don't  chufe  to  fpeak  out -I  am  always  tender  of 
Q.6  «  the 


348  ESSAYS,  No.  170. 

"  the  fubjeft  of  chara&ers  -  but  I  have  heard  fome- 
"  thing— "  Here  flie  concluded  with  a  whifper,  and 
in  a  great  hurry  withdrew. 

The  next  houfe  Ihe  called  in  at,  was  the  apothecary's. 
The  apothecary  was  glad  of  a  mouthful  of  news  for  his 
patients.  His  patients  fwallowed  it  eagerly,  and  foon 
afterwards  evacuated  themfelves  on  all  their  vifitors,  who 
went  home  in  great  fpirits,  to  fpread  what  they  had 
picked  up  among  their  families  and  friends;  and  thus, 
in  the  fpace  of  twenty-four  hours,  it  was  communicated 
over  the  \vhole  panfh. 

With  refpecl  to  myfelf,  at  the  firft  weekly  club  after 
or.r  arrival,  the  'Iquire,  the  attorney,  the  apothecary, 
and  two  or  three  gentlemen  fots,  who  lived  upon  their 
means,  as  it  is  called,  fat  in  judgment  upon  my  charac- 
ter. After  much  debate,  in  which  an  equal  portion  of 
candour  and  dilcernment  was  difplayed,  I  was  found 
guilty  of  being  a  cockney,  of  never  having  hunted,  of 
never  having  mot  a  partridge,  of  keeping  a  poor  table, 
:ind  yet,  at  the  fame  time,  living  above  my  fortune; 
and  laftly,  of  having  a  great'deal  of  pride  that  little  be- 
cair.e  me.  The  refult  was,  that  though  they  mould 
ccndefcend  to  call  upon  me,  as  long  as  my  pipe  of 
excellent  Port  laited,  yet  I  was  not  to  be  admitted  a 
member  of  their  jolly  fociety. 

It  is  true,  I  vifit,  and  am  vifited  ;  but  as  I  really  do 
not  take  much  pleafure  in  a  drunken  bout ;  as  I  am  not 
very  well  fk.il!  ed  in  farming  or  fox-hunting  ;  and  from  a 
tendernefs  of  conltitution,  am  obliged  to  be  abftemious 
in  the  a;iicles  of  eating  and  drinking,  we  commonly 
have  mere  form  in  our  meetings  than  cordiality.  To 
afTemble  together  for  the  fake  of  liberal  and  mar.ly  con- 
venation  is  held  infipid.  My  fons  are  never  at  home  ; 
and  my  daughters,  who  have  been  taught  to  fet  a  high 
value  on  mental  accompliflmients,  neither  give  nor  re- 
ceive much  fati&faction  in  the  company  of  thofe,  who 
think  it  the  very  lumir.it  of  education,  to  have  learned, 
at  a  boarding-lchool,  to  dantr  and  play  a  minuet. 

The  envy,  thejealoufy,  and  the  impertinence  of  the 
lower  fort  of  people  is  not  left  ccnfpicuous  and  trouble- 
ionie  than  that  of  their  fuperiors.  If  we  fend  to  -buy 
«n\  lining,  \ve  are  forced  to  pay  Something  more  than 

any 


No.  170.  MORAL,     &c.  349 

anybody  elfe,  becaufe  we  are  the  rich  new-corner.  If 
my  cow  happens  to  break  into  neighbour  Hodge's  field, 
Ihe  is  pounded  without  notice,  becaufe,  forfooth,  fhe  is 
the  Londoner's  cow.  If  we  walk  down  the  town,  all 
the  doors  and  windows  are  flung  open,  and  crowded  with 
fpe&ators,  jull  as  it  is  in  London  at  my  Lord  Mayor's 
{how.  My  poor  wife  and  daughters  filks  and  fattins  are 
criticifed  with  unrelenting  feverity. 

Whenever  my  fervants  go  to  any  fhop,  a  fet  of  gof- 
fips  make  a  point  of  meeting  them,  in  order  to  afkwhat 
I  had  for  dinner,  how  much  fmall  beer  is  confumed  by 
us  in  a  week  ?  and  a  thoufand  fimilar  queftions.  No  lit- 
tle art  is  matie  ufc  of  to  perfuade  them  that  I  am  ftingy, 
and  that  my  place  is  the  worft  in  the  town  ;  though,  to 
my  certain  knowledge,  I  am  fo  far  impofed  upon,  being 
a  ftranger,  as  that  I  am  forced  to  pay  a  third  more  wa- 
ges than  any  body  elfe  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Nothing  pafles  in  my  houfe  which  does  not  become 
matter  of  general  converfation.  If  a  coufmor  an  old  ac- 
quaintance comes  from  London  to  fpend  a  few  days  with 
me,  no  pains  are  fpared  to  learn  of  the  fervants  who  and 
what  he  is  ;  and  if  my  fervants  know  nothing  about  him, 
Mifs  Prue  takes  care  to  fuggeft,  that  he  is  in  fome  low 
trade,  a  mere  mechanic  in  his  beft  fuit  of  cloaths.  If  he 
mould  take  an  evening  walk  with  my  daughters,  unac- 
companied with  me  or  my  wife,  he  is  going  to  be  mar- 
ried to  one  of  them  direftly.  His  name,  his  age,  his 
origin,  are  immediately  divulged  ;  the  fortune  on  both 
fides  afcertained,  and  the  day  fixed. 

If  my  wife  and  I  happen  to  fpar  a  little,  as  is  ufual 
among  thole  who  love  one  another  with  the  fincereft 
affeclion,  a  report  is  immediately  circulated  that  I  ufe  my 
wife,  or  that  Ihe  uies  me,  ill,  and  that,  notwithftanding 
appearances  to  the  contrary,  we  do  not  live  h  ,  :pilj  to- 
gether. I  ca-n  never  buy  nor  fell  a  horfe,  a  co«v,  or  a 
pig,  nor  change  a  iervant,  but  I  am  called  behind  my 
back  a  fool  for  my  pains,  and  it  is  hinted  that  I  do  not 
know  what  I  am  about ;  and  indeed  how  mould  I,  fmce 
1  am  a  cit.  If  I  make  an  alteration  in  my  garden,  dig 
a  ditch,  mend  a  pigllye,  or  thatch  a  hovci,  my  taite, 
my  judgment,  my  prudence,  are  called  in  queihon, 
and  it  is  charitably  wiHied  that  I  do  not  bring  my  noble 

to 


3$o  ESSAYS,  No.  170. 

to  nhrepence,  and  my  ninepence  to  nothing.  If,  by 
the  careleffhefs  of  my  cook-maid,  a  joint  of  meat  mould 
happen  to  be  a  little  tainted  in  the  dog-days,  it  gets 
wind,  and  it  is  immediately  faid  that  I  feed  my  family 
on  ftinking  meat  for  cheapnefs.  If  a  loaf  mould  be  a 
little  mouldy  in  damp  weather,  I  am  railed  at  for  keep, 
ing  my  bread  till  it  is  fpoiled,  rather  than  give  it  to  a 
poor  creature  who  is  periming  with  hunger.  In  fhort, 
hardly  a  moufe  can  ftir  in.any  part  of  the  houfe,  from  the 
parlour  to  the  fcullery,  but  the  barber,  the  chandler- 
fhop-keeper,  the  landlady  at  the  alehoufe,  the  mantua- 
maker,  and  the  chair-woman,  find  means  to  get  a  know- 
ledge of  it  for  the  entertainment  of  their  cuftomers. 

Till  I  lived  in  this  place,  I  never  thought  myfelf  of 
fuch  confequence  as  to  merit  general  attention.  In 
London,  my  next  door  neighbour  neither  knew  nor 
cared  what  pafTed  in  my  parlour  and  kitchen.  I  can 
however  eafily  account  for  this  difference.  In  a  market 
town,  of  no  great  opulence  or  extent,  there  are  not  ob- 
jeds  enough  to  divert  the  idle.  No  plays,  no  auctions, 
no  fine  (hops,  no  fbew-glafles.  Scarcely  any  amufement 
for  fots,  goffips,  and  old  maids,  but  thinking  and  talk- 
ing on  the  affairs  and  families  of  other  people.  The 
fettlement  of  a  itranger  in  their  town  is  food  to  them  for 
years.  They  have  been  too  long  ufed  to  the  natives  to 
find  any  novelty  in  their  concerns,  and  perhaps  have 
been  induced  to  regard  them  with  that  partiality  of 
long  acquaintance  or  of  relation fliip,  which  precludes 
malevolence.  But  ftrangers  are  lawful  game ;  and  the 
cruelty  of  little  minds  is  found  to  take  a  pleafure  in  de- 
tracting from  their  characters,  and  defeating,  by  falfe 
and  malignant  representations,  thofe  fchemes  of  happi- 
nefs  with  which  they  flattered  themfelves  in  retirement. 

Sick  of  fuch  impertinence,  and  difgufted  with  the 
ill-natare  of  all  around  me,  I  have  refolded  to  quit  the 
market  town,  and  have  jult  hired  a  houfe  delightfully 
fituated  in  a  diitant  village.  It  is  the  paternal  habita- 
tion of  a  man,  who,  having  hopes  of  riling  at  court, 
chufes  to  leave  this  charming  retreat,  for  a  fmall  dark 
houfe  in  one  of  the  difmal  lanes  that  lead  into  the 
Strand.  I  fhall  have  no  near  neighbours  but  the  vicar, 
who  is  not  only  a  learned,  virtuous,  religious,  and  be- 
nevolent, 


No.  171.  MORAL,    &c.  35r 

nevolent,  but  alfo  an  agreeable  man.  His  family,  all 
of  whom  have  that  elegance  of  mind  which  refults  from 
a  tafte  for  letters,  will  be  much  with  mine.  They  have 
already  formed  a  reciprocal  attachment.  And  I  hope 
to  have  found  at  laft,  in  this  place,  that  happinefs 
which  I  vainly  fought  in  a  more  frequented  lituation. 
Of  this  I  am  confident,  that  the  honeft  fimplicity  of  the 
ruilics,  if  it  is  not  agreeable,  is  far  lefs  difgufting,  than 
the  pert,  affedled,  ill-natured  airs  and  manners  of  the 
little  half-bred  gentry  in  little  country  towns. 

The  beauties  of  nature  untouched  by  art,  an  air  fweet 
as  it  blows  over  the  bloflbmed  vale,  peaceful  hours,  focial 
cheerfulnefs,  domeftic  joys,  rural  dignity — thefe  are 
mine  in  my  village  retreat.  Nor  do  I  regret  the  lofs  of 
formal  vifits,  ana  that  wretched  intercourfe  with  little 
minds,  which,  while  it  wore  away  life  in  infipidity, 
expofed  me  to  the  envenomed  fhafts  of  unmerited  de- 
traction. 


No.  CLXXI.     CURSORY  THOUGHTS  ON  EPIS- 
TOLARY   WRITERS. 


WHEN  a  writer  has  diftinguifhed  himfelf  in  his 
ftudied  performances,  and  pleafed  us  in  thofe 
works  which  he  intended  for  our  perufal,  we  become 
interefted  in  all  that  concerns  him,  and  wifh  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  his  ideas,  as  they  flowed,  without  any 
view  to  their  publication,  in  the  open  communications 
of  a  private  and  friendly  correfponder.ee.  Beautiful 
minds,  like  beautiful  bodies,  appear  graceful  in  an  un- 
drefs.  The  awe  which  they  infpire,  when  furrounded 
with  all  their  dignity,  is  fometimes  more  llriking  than 
pleafing  ;  but  we  feel  ourfelves  relieved  when  admitted 
to  their  familiarity.  We  love  to  retire  behind  the  fcenes, 
and  to  obferve  the  undifguifed  appearance  of  thofe  who 
pleafe  us,  when  induilrioufly  decorated  for  public  exhi- 
bition. From  this  caufe  it  has  arifen,  that  the  private 
letters  of  great  men  have  been  always  read  wilh  peculiar 
avidity. 

The 


3$2  ESSAYS,  No.  171. 

The  Greeks,  remarkable  as  they  were  for  diverfity  of 
compofition,  have  not  left  many  models  in  the  epifto- 
lary  ftyle.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  Xenoplion  excel- 
led in  it,  though  mod  of  the  letters  which  he  wrote, 
have  either  not  been  collected  orpreferved.  Thofe  of 
Socrates,  Antifthenes,  Ariilippus,  Xenophon,  ^Efchi- 
nes,  andPhilo,  have  never  been  popular.  Thofe  which 
pafs  under  the  name  of  Ariitenetus,  are  of  a  tafte  lefs 
refenxbling  the  attic  than  the  oriental.  The  defcrip- 
tions  in  them  are  poetically  luxuriant,  but  the  language 
is  not  pure,  nor  the  ftyle  fimple. 

The  epiltles  of  Phalaris  have  bean  much  read  by  the 
learned  ;  but  though  they  are  curious  monuments  of  the 
genius  of  the  tyrant,  they  are  not  admirable  fpecimens 
of  epiftolary  compofition.  'J  hey  are  better  known 
from  the  violent  difpute  they  occaiioned  between  Bent- 
ley  and  Boyle,  than  from  their  intrinfic  merit.  In  fome 
part  of  that  famous  controverfy,  Bentley  fays,  with  his 
ufual  acrimony,  that  Boyle  had  made  a  bad  book  worfe 
by  a  bad  edition  of  it. 

Cicero,  the  world's  great  model  in  the  oratorical  and 
the  philofephical,  is  no  lefs  eminent  in  the  epiilolary 
ftyle.  He  rivalled  his  great  patterns,  the  Greeks,  in 
eloquence  and  philofophy  ;  and  he  excelled  them  in  his 
letters.  His  letters,  indeed,  were  the  genuine  produc- 
tion of  his  unafliited  genius,  and  have  a  grace  peculiar 
to  themfelves.  Many  cf  his  other  works  are  profe/Tedly 
imitations ;  but  concluded  with  that  art  which  charac- 
terifes  genius,  and  appropriates  all  it  handles.  His 
letters  were  not  lludied,  they  were  the  effufions  of  the 
moment,  they  arofe  from  the  occafion,  and  plenfe  from 
their  air  of  truth  and  unaffe&ed  propriety.  Whether 
bufinefs,  pleafure,  politics,  phiiofophy,  01  conjugal  and 
paternal  affection,  are  their  fubjecls,  they  arc  equally 
excellent,  and  always  pleating.  He  wrote  ti.em  with- 
out the  leaft  view  of  tlieir  coming  to  the  public  eye, 
and  to  this  circumftance  they  owe  a  great  fuare  of  their 
merit,  their  freedom  from  affectation.  Near  a  thouland 
of  them  remain,  and  furniih  abundant  of  hiltorical  in- 
formation, at  the  fame  time  that  they  exhibi  the  befl 
models  for  this  fpecies  of  writing.  They  are  thought 
not  to  appear  to  the  bed  advantage  in  the  Specimens 

which 


No.  171.  MORAL,     &c.  353 

which  Dr.  Middlcton  has  inferted  in  his  life  of  Cicero. 
No  one  was  better  able  to  do  them  juftice  than  that 
great  biographer  ;  but  it  is  faid,  4ie  committed  the  talk 
of  tranfiation  to  fome  inferior  affiftant. 

There  was  an  age  when  the  letters  of  Pliny  were  pre- 
ferred to  thofe  of  Cicero.  They  have,  indeed,  the 
glitter  of  an  artificial  polifh,  but  they  want  the  more 
captivating  grace  of  natural  beauty.  They  were  ftudied, 
and  they  wear  the  appearance  of  ftudy.  He  who  delights 
in  elaborate  and  highly  finimed  compofition,  will  be  gra- 
tified in  the  perufal  of  Pliny;  but  he  will  at  the  fame 
time  regret,  if  he  has  a  tafte  for  propriety,  that  this  la- 
bour was  not  beftowed  where  it  would  have  been  better 
placed.  In  a  philofophical  difcourfe,  or  a  formal  ha- 
rangue, we  expeft  the  interpofuion  of  art ;  but,  in  an 
epiftle,  we  are  better  pleafed  with  the  genuine  effufions 
of  nature,  than  with  the  efforts  of  ingenuity. 

beneca's  Moral  EfTays  have  little  right  to  the  name 
of  Epiftles,  with  which  he  dilHnguimed  them.  They 
are  little  more  than  a  collection  of  common-place  ob- 
fervations,  abounding  in  wit  and  ingenious  turns,  but 
wholly  deftitute  of  elegance  and  grace.  His  faults,  in- 
deed, are  fweet,  as  Quintilian  faid  j  but  it  is  a  fweet- 
nef?  which  cloys,  and  can  fcarcely  pleafe  any  but  a  vi- 
tiated appetite. 

After  the  Latin  had  ceafed  to  be  a  living  language, 
many  excellent  books  of  letters  were  written  in  it.  It 
was  the  univerfal  language  of  learning.  The  literati 
of  different  nations,  the  rude  languages  of  which  would 
not  repay  the  labour  of  cultivation,  wifely  chofe  to 
communicate  their  thoughts  in  the  pure  dialed  of  the 
court  of  Auguftus.  borne  of  the  earlieit  of  thefe  are 
difgraced  by  the  barbarifm  of  the  times.  But  Petrarch 
fhines  amidft  the  furrounding  obfcurty.  True  genius, 
like  his,  was  fure  todifplay  its  luftre,  though  it  laboured 
under  the  difadvantage  of  a  prevailing  corruption  of 
tafte.  His  language  is  by  no  means  a  model. 

Politian  had  juit  pretenfions  to  true  genius.  There 
is  a  warmth  and  vigour  in  his  poetry,  which  fully  proves 
him  to  have  poflefTed  the  metis  d'winior  His  epiftles 
are  elegant,  but,  like  thofe  of  Pliny,  whom  he  imi- 
tated, they  are  formal  and  afte&ed.  Upon  the  whole 

they 


354  ESSAY    S,  No.  171. 

they  are  not  unpleafing,    and   abound   with  beautiful 
language. 

Erafmus,  a  name  that  mines  forth  with  peculiar  glory 
in  the  annals  of  literature,  juilly  poffeffes  the  nrft  rank 
among  the  modern  epiiiolary  writers.  His  ftyle  indeed 
is  not  purely  Ciceronian,  though  it  difplays  many  of  its 
graces,  it  is  entirely  his  own,  though  it  often  rifes  to  a 
level  with  claflical  excellence.  He  was  not  fo  fcrupu- 
loufly  exaft  in  his  taile,  as  to  reject  ^  barbarous  and  Go- 
thic exprefiion,  if  it  conveyed  his  ideas  precifely.  But 
he  had  the  fkill  to  ufe  it  with  fuch  propriety,  that  it  ac- 
quired, in  his  writings,  a  grace  and  dignity.  No  man 
was  better  acquainted  with  the  works  of  Cicero,  and  no 
man,  after  a  few  prejudices,  formed  in  his  youth,  were 
removed,  entertained  a  higher  opinion  of  his  beauties, 
or  knew  better  how  to  imitate  them.  But  he  defpifed 
the  feclcf  Ciceronians,  who  would  fcarcely  admit  a  par- 
ticle that  was  not  to  be  found  in  their  favourite  author. 
He  ridiculed  them  with  admirable  wit  and  eloquence, 
in  his  dialogue  Ciceronianus ;  nor  wou!  I  he  give  coun- 
tenance to  fo  ridiculous  an  affectation,  by  any  part  of 
his  writings.  More  ftudious  of  copioufnefr  and  variety 
ef  matter,  than  of  a  fcrupulous  imitation  of  any  model,-, 
he  fele&s  the  moft  expreihve  word  he  cs.:i  find  in  the 
language,  and,  by  a  judicious  compo.rao:;,  renders  it 
agreeable  and  proper.  Wkh  all  their  tieffvito  in  point 
of  purity  of  language,  his  letters  are  uncommonly  enter- 
taining ;  and  have  that  fpirit  which  genius  can  always 
exhibit,  but  which  laborious  dulneis  vainly  imitates. 
There  is  a  fund  of  Lucianic  humour  in  all  his  more  fa- 
miliar writings ;  in  his  colloquies  it  is  moft  conspicuous ; 
but  it  is  alfo  very  remarkable  in  many  of  his  epiftles. 
Had  he  lived  in  an  age  when  polite  learning  was  more 
generally  encouraged  and  cultivated,  his  productions 
would  have  been  models  of  elegance,  not  inferior  to  the 
boafted  reliques  of  antiquity.  But,  unfortunately,  he 
was  engaged  in  the  unpleafmg  difputes  of  pedantic  the- 
ologifts ;  and,  inftead  of  treading  the  flowery  paths  of 
Greek  and  Roman  literature,  for  which  he  was  adapted 
by  nature,  was  obliged  to  toil  through  the  thorny  mazes 
of  a  barbarous,  perplexed,  and  irrational  fyftem  of  di- 
vinity. His  liberal  mind  foon  perceived,  and  as  foon 

avowed, 


No.  171.  MORAL,    &c.  35£ 

avowed,  the  abfurdity  of  the  received  modes  and  opi- 
nions; but  he  had  too  great  a  veneration  for  genuine 
chriltianity,  to  neglecT:  thofe  ftudies,  which  his  profef- 
Jion,  as  a  chrillian  and  an  ecclefiaftic,  naturally  led  him 
to  cultivate.  He  favv,  and  in  great  meafure  avoided, 
the  inelegancies  which  abounded  in  the  theological  writ- 
ings of  his  times  ;  but  it  was  not  eafy  always  to  be  upon 
his  guard  againft  them  ;  and  his  mind  retained  a  tindlure 
of  them,  as  waters  are  polluted  with  the  impurities 
through  which  they  flow. 

I  omit  a  great  number  of  epistolary  writers,  who  had 
little  merit  of  their  own,  and  who  derived  all  their 
fame  from  a  fervilc  imitation  of  Cicero.  Among  thcfe 
is  Paul  us  Man  u  this,  who  is  faid  to  have  often  fpent  a 
month  in  writing  a  fingle  letter.  We  fee,  indeed,  in, 
confequence  of  this  fcrupulous  attention,  an  elegant  and 
truly  Ciceronian  phrafeology ;  but  we  obferve  none  of 
the  native  graces  of  unaffected  compofition. 

Our  neighbours,  the  French,  have  arrogated  great 
merit  as  epillolary  writers.  Their  genius  and  their 
language  appear  to  be  well  adapted  to  excel  in  ic.  But 
fome  of  their  molt  celebrated  writers  have  renounced 
the  advantages  which  nature  gave  them,  and  have 
fpoiled  all  the  beauties  of  feiriment  and  vivacity,  by 
an  unfeafonable  profuf:on  c.f  wit.  Ealzic  wearies  his 
reader  with  the  comlant  recurrence  of  laboured  inge- 
nuity. 

Voiture  abounds  with  benutiful  thoughts  exprefled 
with  great  elegance.  The  language  of  compliment 
difgufts,  in  other  writers,  by  its  unmeaning  famenefs 
and  formality.  He  has  given  it  the  grace  of  delicacy. 
But  even  h^,  though  indisputably  a  fine  writer,  isjuftly 
cenfured  by  Bohours,  for  thoughts  which  the  critic  calls 
falfe.  Like  many  others,  he  has  n  gleded  real  beauties 
for  artificial  ornaments 

Our  own  countrymen  have  honourably  diitinguifhed 
themfelves  in  this,  as  well  as  in  every  other  kind  of 
elegant  compofition.  The  •  piltolary  ityle  of  Swift  is 
thought,  by  many,  to  excel  all  others.  It  has  purity,, 
eafe,  exprefCon,  and  force.  Pope's  Letters  are  lively 
and  delicate.  Shenltone's  are  much  read  ;  but  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  they  have  that  peculiar  and  fink- 
ing: 


355  E     S     S     A     Y     S,  No.  171. 

ing  excellence,    which  mould  place    them  among  the 
claffics  of  our  country. 

The  late  Lord  Chefterfield,  though  juftly  decried  as 
a  moral  inilruclor,  is  admired  as   a  writer  of  peculiar 
elegance.     No  man  more  clofely  and   fuccefsfully  imi- 
tated the  French  in  every  circumftance.     Like  them,  he 
writes  with  perfpicuity,  vivacity,  and  that  gracefulnefs 
which  is  fure  to  pleafe,  and  which  he  fo  ftrenuoufly  re- 
commends.    He  is  himfelf  a  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  the 
traces ;  for,  with  all  his  merit,  he  was  certainly  fuper- 
cial,  and  yet  obtained  a  degree  of  fame>  which  more 
folid  writers  have  feldom  pofTeiled. 

Much  has  been  faid  on  the  epiftolary  ftyle ;  as  if 
any  one  ftyle  could  be  appropriated  to  the  great  variety 
of  fubjecls  which  are  treated  of  in  letters.  Eafe,  it  is 
true,  mould  diftinguifh  familiar  letters,  written  on  the 
common  affairs  of  life;  becaufe  the  mind  is  ufually  at 
eafe  while  they  are  compofed.  But,  even  in  thefe, 
there  incidentally  arifes  a  topic,  which  requires  elevat- 
ed expreflion,  and  an  inverted  conftruftion.  Not  to 
raife  the  ftyle  on  thefe  occafions,  is  to  write  unnatural- 
ly; for  nature  teaches  us  to  exprefs  animated  emotions 
of  every  kind  in  animated  language. 

The  impaffioned  lover  writes  unnaturally,  if  he  writes 
with  the  eafe  of  Sevigne.  The  dependant  writes  unna- 
turally to  a  fuperior,  in  the  ftyle  of  familiarity.  The 
fuppliant  writes  unnaturally,  if  he  rejects  the  figures 
dictated  by  diftrefs.  Converfation  admits  of  every  ftyle 
but  the  poetic,  and  what  are  letters  bat  written  conver- 
fation  ?  The  great  rule  is,  to  follow  nature,  and  to 
avoid  an  affected  manner. 


NO.  CLXXII.  ON  THE  NECESSITY  OF  EXER- 
CISE, AMUSEMENTS,  AND  AN  ATTENTION 
TO  HEALTH  IN  A  LIFE  OF  STUDY.  IN  A 
LETTER. 

I  HAPPENED  accidentally  to  meet  a  feiiow-collegian, 
with  whom,  before  we  were  feparated  by  the   ca- 
price of  fortune,  I  was  intimately  acquainted.     Surely 


No.  172.  MORA   L,    &c.  357 

it  is  he,  faid  I;  but,  alas,  how  changed!  pale,  ema- 
ciated, with  hollow  and  lack-luftre  eye,  is  this  my  old 
fchool-fellow,  whofe  ruddy  checks  and  cheerful  coun- 
tenance difplayed  health  and  happinefs  ?  What  can  have 
reduced  my  poor  friend  to  fo  wretched  acondition?  In- 
temperance, or  fome  dreadful  difeafe,  muft  have  ftolen. 
away  his  youth,  and  hurried  him  to  a  premature  old  age. 

While  I  was  tftus  reflecting,  hepafledme  without  tak- 
ing notice.  He  feemed  indeed  to  be  fo  entirely  wrapped 
up  in  contemplation,  as  to  pay  no  regard  to  external  ob- 
jedls.  My  curiolity  and  friendmip  were  too  much  inte- 
reited,  to  fufler  him  to  leave  me  without  giving  fome 
account  of  himfelf.  1  foon  overtook  him,  and  he  no 
fooner  recognifed  me,  and  perceived  my  furprife  at  his 
appearance,  than  he  proceeded  to  aflign  the  caufes  of  it. 
"  You  know,  my  friend,  faid  he,  my  firftand  ftrong- 
"  eft  paflion  was  for  literary  fame.  Flattered  by  my 
"  friends,  and  encouraged  at  my  fchool,  I  perfuaded 
'  "  myfelf  I  was  advancing  in  the  career  of  glory,  and, 
"  with  all  the  ardour  of  enthufiafm,  devoted  every 
moment  of  my  life  to  the  purfuit  of  learning.  Puerile 
diverfions  had  no  charms  for  me.  A  book  was  my 
folc  delight,  my  conftant  companion,  and  was  never 
laid  afide,  but  while  my  mind  was  employed  in  com- 
pofition.  During  my  refidence  at  the  univeifity,  I 
fpent  the  time  which  my  companions  alloted  to  rural 
amufements,in  examining  thofe  repofitories  of  ancient 
learning,  the  public  libraries.  I  law  indeed  the  fu- 
tility of  fcholaftic  logic,  but  a  define  to  qualify  myfelf 
for  the  public  exercifes,  led  me  to  the  attentive  per- 
ufal  of  VVallis  and  Sanderfon.  The  fame  motive 
engaged  me  in  the  dreary  fubtilties  of  metaphyfics. 
Such  (tudies  engrofled  the  greater  part  of  my  firit  three 
years,  with  little  advantage  and  no  pleaiure.  The 
fatigue  would  have  been  intolerable,  had  it  not  fome- 
times  been  alleviated  by  the  charms  of  poetry.  My 
favourite  Virgil  and  Horace,  and  every  polite  writer 
of  modern  times,  afforded,  in  their  turn,  an  agree- 
able recreation.  My  exercifes  were  honourably  dif- 
tinguifhed,  and  praife  to  an  ingenuous  mind  is  the 
bcit  reward  of  learned  labours. 

2  "  With 


;8  ESSAYS,  No.  172. 

"  With  my  character  for  application  and  fobriety 
(not  to  boaft  of  ray  attainments),  I  found  no  difficul- 
ty in  obtaining  orders.  The  head  of  my  houfe  pro- 
cured me  a  curacy  in  a  fmall  country  town.  Thither 
I  went,  not  without  my  collection  of  books,  the  ufe 
of  which  I  would  not  have  foregone  for  a  mitre.  I 
had  no  other  wiih  than  to  improve  myfelf  in  learn- 
ing, and  to  perform  the  duty  of  an  ecclefiaftic  with 
decency  and  devotion.  I  was  happy  in  the  profpect 
of  fpending  my  time  uninterrupted  by  the  intrufion 
of  my  academical  friends,  whom  youth  and  high 
fpirits  would  often  lead  to  a  noify  behaviour  little 
confiftent  with  meditation.  My  want  of  experience 
concealed  from  me  the  difficulty  of  purfuing  the  line 
of  conduct  which  inclination  pointed  out.  I  found 
it  was  nece/Tary,  to  my  good  reception  among  my  pa- 
rifhioners,  to  give  up  the  greateft  part  of  the  day  to 
a  participation  in  their  amufements.  In  vain  was  it 
that  I  laboured  to  excel  in  the  pulpit.  There  was 
not  a  man  in  the  place  who  had  an  idea  of  the  dig- 
nity or  utility  of  literary  excellence,  and  who  would 
not  moft  cordially  have  hated  even  a  Clarke  or  a  Til- 
lotfon,  if  he  had  never  been  in  at  the  death  of  a 
hare,  nor  drunk  his  bottle  at  the  club.  The  parfon, 
in  their  idea  of  his  character,  was  a  jolly  fellow  in 
black,  who  ivas  to  lead  a  carelefs  life  all  the  week, 
and  preach  againft  it  on  Sundays.  I  could  not  bring 
myfelf  to  take  delight  in  a  fox-chace,  and,  though 
good-nature  prevented  me  from  fhewing  my  diflike, 
I  could  never  meet  any  of  the  hunters  with  fatisfac- 
tion.  The  little  pleafure  I  took  in  the  only  fociety 
that  was  to  be  obtained,  ftill  farther  confirmed  me  in 
my  reclufe  mode  of  life.  When  my  refolution  ap- 
peared unchangeable,  I  was  fuffered  to  live  as  I 
pleafed,  with  the  character  of  an  odd,  but  inoffen- 
five  man.  IP.  this  unmolefted  retreat  I  found  time 
to  30  through  a  complete  courfe  of  ecclefiaiHcal  hif- 
"  tory.  I  acquired  a  fufficient  knowledge  of  the  ori- 
•«  ental  languages  to  enable  me  to  read  the  Polyglott. 
"  I  wrote  a  great  number  of  fermons  and  theological 
4f  treatifes,  and  made  many  corrections,  in  the  vulgar 

"  tranflation 


No.  172.  M  O   R  A  L,    &c.  359 

"  tranflation  of  the  Bible.  So  wholly  engrofied  was  I 
«*  by  my  darling  purfuits,  that  I  feldom  left  my  cham- 
«'  ber.  In  vain  did  the  vernal  fun  invite.  The  mufic 
"  of  a  pack  of  hounds,  .which  frequently  patted  my 
"  window,  had  no  charms  in  my  ears.  The  rural 
"  fports  of  every  kind  were  tedious  and  infipid.  To 
"  my  books  I  returned  from  every  trifling  avocation 
"  with  redoubled  pleafure,  and  endeavoured  to  repay 
"  the  lofs  of  an  hour  in  the  day,  by  devoting  a  great 
««  portion  of  the  night  to  ftudy. 

'•  It  is  really  true,  that  my  chief  motive  for  appli- 
"  cation  was  a,love  of  learning.  Yet  I  will  be  fo  in- 
"  genuous  as  to  own,  I  fomedmes  formed  a  vvifh  that  my 
"  fmall  fhare  of  merit,  if  I  had  any,  might  attracl  the 
"  notice  of  my  fuperiors.  There  is  a  time  of  life  when 
"  fame  alone  appears  to  be  an  inadequate  reward  of  great 
"  labour.  It  flatters  that  natural  love  of  diftindlion 
*'  which  we  all  poflefs,  but  it  furnifhes  no  convenience 
"  in  the  time  of  want  and  infirmity.  There  was  in  the 
"  neighbourhood  a  little  living  of  one  hundred  a  year, 
"  with  a  houfe  and  garden,  in  a  ftyle  of  decent  elegance 
which  becomes  a  fcholar.  The  patron  was  the  efquire 
of  the  next  pari/h,  who  had  always  treated  me  with 
fmgular  reip°ft.  I  was  foolifh  enough  to  fuppofe  his 
regard  for  my  character  would  induce  him  to  beflow 
his  benefice  on  rne  ;  but  I  found  when  it  became  va- 
cant, he  had  flaked  and  loft  the  next  prefentation  at  a 
game  at  whift  with  a  clerical  fox-hunter. 
"  1  was  at  laft  taken  notice  of  by  my  diocefan.  He 
had  heard  of  my  indefatigable  diligence,  and  recom- 
mended me  to  an  eminent  publifher,  as  a  proper  per- 
fon  to  make  an  index  to  a  very  voluminous  work. 
I  eagerly  undertook  the  tafic,  with  a  view  to  pleafe 
fo  great  a  man,  an;l  finifhcd  it  in  lefs  than  a  year  and 
a  half.  The  books  were  printed  on  a  fmall  letter, 
and  this  work  did  my  eyes  an  injury  which  they  will 
never  recover;  but  it  mull  be  owned,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  the  bookfeller  gave  me  in  return  a  bank 
note  of  ten  pounds.  An  index  author  feldom  ac- 
quires reputation.  He  is  indeed  feldom  known;  but 
if  he  happens  to  be  difcovered,  the  accuracy  of  his 
work  is,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  a  kind  of  difgrace 

"  to 


3&J  ESSAYS,  No.  172. 

<c  to  him.  It  feems  to  argue  a  degree  of  phlegmatic 
"  dulnefs  and  of  patient  labour,  rarely  in  the  power 
*'  of  genius.  It  will  not  therefore  be  thought  wonder- 
c<  ful  that  this  laborious  work  produced  no  other  effedh 
"  than  the  injury  of  my  eyes,  and  the  payment  of  my 
«'  taylor's  bill. 

"  In  this  curacy  Iftill  continue,  without  any  profpeft 
"  of  change,  unlefs  when  blindnefs,  occafioned  by  in- 
"  temperate  ftudy  or  the  infirmities  of  age,  mall  oblige 
"  me  to  refign.     I  am  not  of  a  difcontented  difpofition, 
'•*  nor  do  I  relate  my  condition  with  a  defign  to  crimi- 
"  nate  others  for  their  negledl  of  me^     Preferment  I 
:  never    fought  by    thofe    methods    which    the  world 
agrees  to  be  the  beft  fuited  to  procure  it.     I  have 
therefore  no  right  to  complain  of  the  want  of  that 
which  I  did  not  rightly  purfue.     My  motive  for  this 
communication  is  to  prevent  others  from  incurring 
mifery  by  a  too  great  attachment  to  objecls  laudable 
in  themfelves.     I  can  never  difcountenance  an  atten- 
tion to  literature.     I  ftill   love  it.     I  ftill  venerate 
thofe  that  have  excelled  in  it.     But  a  fincere  regard 
for  many  of  the  moft  amiable  and  ufeful  of  my  fpecies, 
induces  me   to  remind  them,  that   they  have  a  body 
which  requires  a  great  mare  of  their  attention,  and 
that    no    fatisfadion    arifing    from    ftudy   can    ulti- 
mately counterbalance  the  lofs  of  fight,  and  that  long- 
train  of  nervous  difeafes  fuperinduced  by  unremittea 
application. 

"  I  mean  not  to  excite  your  fympathy  ;  nor  will  I  ex- 
aggerate my  evils  by  defcription.  My  appearance 
has  already  convinced  you  that  I  am  the  victim  of 
difeafe.  Nor  will  you  hefitate  to  believe  that  the 
ftone,  the  gout,  the  hypochondria,  which  have  worn 
out  my  tender  frame,  were  derived  from  an  attention 
unrelieved  by  the  ufual  and  neceflary  relaxations. — 
Had  I  been  wife  enough  to  have  mounted  a  horfe 
during  the  intervals  of  reading,  and  to  have  entered 
into  cheerful  company  at  the  clofe  of  a  thoughful 
day,  I  might  have  prolonged  my  favourite  enjoy- 
ments to  a  happy  old  age. 

"  I  am  philofopher  enough  to  bear  with  patience  a 
condition  which  I  cannot  alter;  yet  I  fometimes 

««  think, 


No.  172.  MORAL,    &c.  361 

"  think,  though  without  the  leaft  degree  of  envy,  that 
"  an  old  fchool-fellovv  of  mine,  of  a  Very  different  turn 
"  from  myfelf,  is  far  happier.  I  remember  I  ufed  to 
"  laugh  at  him,  and  think  him  very  filly,  when,  at  the 
««  time  we  were  at  the  Univerfity  together,  he  ufed  to 
*'  mifs  an  ingenious  lefture  for  the  fake  of  a  ride,  and 
"  fpend  the  three  millings  with  which  I  mould  have 
«'  bought  a  book,  in  the  hire  of  a  horfe.  It  is  true,  in- 
"  deed,  that  he  need  not,  and  ought  not,  to  have  ne- 
«'  glefted  his  mental  improvement,  becaufe  he  had  marry 
"  opportunities  of  relaxation  after  the  hours  of  ftudy  were 
"  elapfed.  Yet  if  I  judge  of  his  conduft  by  the  appa- 
"  rent  efft&s  or  it  at  prefent,  it  appears  to  me  in  a  left 
"  blameable  light  than  it  ufed  to  do.  He  is  now  at 
t{  the  age  of  fixty-three,  for  he  was  fomewhat  older  than 
"  myfelf,  and  retains  all  the  vigour  and  alertnefs  of  a 
"  young  man.  His  countenance  is  hale,  his  limbs  muf- 
"  cular,  and  he  reads  the  fervice  and  the  newfpaper, 
"  the  only  things  he  does  read,  without  fpedtacles. 

**  He  fet  out  in  life  as  friendlefs  as  myfelf.  He  en- 
"  gaged  in  a  curacy  in  a  fporting  country.  His  love 
"  of  field-diverfions  foon  introduced  him  to  what  was 
"  called  the  belt  company.  He  poflefled  the  external 
"  graces  of  behaviour,  and  at  the  fame  time  was 
"  deeply  (killed  in  horfe-flefh,  and  had  Bracken's  Far- 
«'  ricry  by  heart.  Such  merits  could  not  long  pafs  un- 
"  rewarded.  A  baronet  in  the  neighbourhood  grew 
*'  fond  of  him,  and  introduced  him  to  his  family;  one 
"  of  whom  was  an  only  daughter,  of  no  great  perfonal 
«*  or  mental  accompHfhments.  My  friend,  however, 
f*  admired  her  fortune,  and  found  no  difficulty  in  ob- 
*'  taining  her  hand.  The  living  on  which  he  now  re- 
«'  fides  was  part  of  her  portion,  and,  though  of  no  great 
"  value,  yet  it  furnifhes  him  with  a  pretty  fnug  fporting- 
•'  box.  Hecommonly  reads  prayersin  his  boots  and  fpurs, 
"  while  his  hunter  Hands  neighing  in  the  porch  till  honeft 
"  Mofcs  has  twanged  through  his  nofe  the  final  and  joy- 
"  ful  Amen.  It  is  true,  my  old  friend  has  no  tafle,  no 
"  learning,  no  refinement,  but  he  has  the  ufe  of  his  eyes, 
"  and  a  never- ceafing  flow  of  fpirits ;  he  can  walk  as  well 
"  as  ever,  polleflcs  an  excellent  digeftion,  and  plenty  to 
"  furnim  it  with  conitant  employment. 

VOL.  II.  R  "  But 


36*  ESSAYS,  No.  173. 

"  But  his  example  is  not  to  be  followed,  fince  he  has 
run  into  an  extreme,  more  culpable,  though  lei's  per- 
nicious to  himfelf  than  mine  is  to  me.  Far  happier 
and  wifer  the  philofophical  Euphrancr,  who,  with 
the  warmeft  affeftion  for  learning,  retrained  it,  as 
he  has  every  other  inordinate  attachment,  by  the  rules 
of  prudence;  and  by  paying  all  the  attention  which 
nature  and  reafon  require,  to  his  body  and  to  his 
mind,  has  advanced  the  condition  of  both  to  a  high, 
degree  of  attainable  perfection." 


NO.  CLXXIII.     ON  THE   MERITS  OF  COWLEY 
AS    A    POET. 


THE  biographers  of  our  Englim  authors  have  fome- 
times  fallen  into  a  miitake,  which  renders  the 
truth  of  their  ftory  fufpe&ed.  Their  accounts  are  truly 
panegyrics.  The  hero  of  their  tales,  like  the  lover  in 
the  romance,  is  adorned  with  every  good  quality.  Not 
content  to  relate  fafts  with  impartiality,  they  extenuate 
what  is  culpable,  and  exaggerate  all  that  can  admit  of 
commendation.  In  truth,  they  who  have  exhibited  the 
lives  of  our  authors,  have  ufuaily  been  the  editors  of 
their  works  ;  and  either  from  a  real  and  natural  fondnefs 
fcr  thofe  things  on  which  they  have  beftovved  care,  or 
from  the  lefs  laudable  motive  of  promoting  the  circula- 
tion of  a  book  in  which  they  were  interefted,  have  fpoken 
too  highly  even  of  thofe  who  merit  moderate  applaufe. 
Rut  it  is  not  wonderful  if  the  trader  reprefents  his  own 
merchandize  as  the  bell  in  the  market-place. 

It  was  the  lot  of  Cowley  to  be  handed  down  to  pofie- 
rity  by  a  writer  who  was  famous  in  his  day  for  eloquence. 
Dr.  Spratt  probably  undertook  the  office  of  a  biographer, 
with  a  defign  to  difplay  his  talents  in  a  fpecies  or  oratory 
which  the  Roman  rhetoricians  called  the  demonftrative. 
He  difcharged  it  well  as  an  artift,  but  failed  as  an  accu- 
rate hiflorian.  By  placing  Cowley  in  the  firft  rank  of 
poets,  he  has  in  effect  degraded  him  from  the  fubahern 
itation  which  he  had  elfe  preferved  unniolefted.  Dr. 

-     Spratt 


No.  173.  MORAL,     &c.  365 

Spratt  owed  much  of  his  own  fame  to  the  poet  who  had 
compared  his  ftyle  to  the  gentle  and  majeftic  current  of 
the  Thames  ;  and  returned  the  compliment,  perhaps 
from  other  motives  than  thofe  of  gratitude  ;  for  the 
higher  Cowley  was  exalted,  the  greater  honour  was  re- 
fleded  on  thofe  whom  he  had  commended.  Of  this  ce- 
kbrated  Bifliop  of  Rochefcer,  Lord  Orrery  has  faid,  few- 
men  have  gained  a  greater  chafa&er  for  elegance  and 
corre&nefs,  and  few  men  have  defcrved  it  lefs.  And  of 
the  poet  whom  he  praifed,  the  great  Dryden  has  with, 
difiidence  remarked,  that  fomewhat  of  the  purity  of 
Englim,  fomewhat  of  more  equal  thoughts,  fomewhat 
of  fweetnefs  in  the  numbers  ;  in  one  word,  fomewhat  of 
a  finer  turn  and  more  lyrical  verfe,  is  yet  wanting. 

Whatever  are  his  defects,  no  poet  has  been  more  li- 
beraliy  praifed.  Lord  Clarendon  has  faid,  he  made  a 
flight  above  all  men  ;  Addifon,  in  his  account  of  the 
Englifh  poets,  that  he  improved  upon  the  Theban  bard  ; 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham  upon  his  Tombftone,  that  he 
was  the  Englifh  Pindar,  the  Horace,  the  Virgil,  the  De- 
light, the  Glory  of  his  Times.  And,  with  refpecl:  to  the 
harihnefs  of  his  numbers,  the  eloquent  Sprait  tells  us, 
that  if  his  verfes  in  fome  places  feem  not  as  foft  and 
flowing  as  one  would  have  them,  it  was  his  choice,  and 
not  his  fault. 

Such  is  the  applaufe  lavifhed  on  a  writer  who  is  now 
feldom  read.  That  he  could  ever  be  efteemed  as  a  Pin- 
daric poet,  is  a  curious  literary  phenomenon.  He  to- 
tally miftook  his  own  genius,  when  he  thought  of  imi- 
tating Pindar.  He  totally  miftook  the  genius  of  Pindar, 
when  he  thought  his  own  incoherent  fentiments  and 
numbers  bore  the  lead  refemblance  to  the  wild,  yet  re- 
gular fublimity  of  the  Theban.  He  neglefted  even 
thofe  forms,  the  ftrophe,  antiltrophe,  and  epoae,  which, 
even  imitative  dulnefs  can  copy.  Sublime  imagery,  ve- 
hement pathos,  poetic  fire,  which  conftitute  the  eflence 
of  the  Pindaric  ode,  arc  incompatible  witn  witty  con- 
ceits, accurate  antithefes,  and  vulgar  expretTion.  All- 
thefe  imply  the  co>  Irefs  of  deliberate  compoiition,  or 
the  meannefs  of  a  little  mind;  both  of  them  molt  re- 
pugnant to  the  truly  Pindaric  ode,  in  which  ;Hi  is  rap- 
turous and  noble.  Wit  of  any  kind  would  be  impro- 
R  2  perl/ 


364  ESSAYS,  No.  173. 

properly  difplayed  in  fuch  composition  ;  but  to  increafe 
the  abfurdity,  the  wit  of  Cowley  is  often  falfe. 

If  the  end  of  poetry  is  to  pleafe,  harmony  of  verfe 
is  effential  to  poetry,  for,  without  it,  poetry  cannot 
pleafe.  It  is  not  pofiible,  that  any  whofe  ear  has  been 
attuned  to  the  melody  of  good  compofition,  fliould  read 
a  fingle  ode  of  Cowley  without  being  fhocked  with  dif- 
cord.  There  is  often  nothing  left  but  the  jingle  at  the 
end  to  diftinguifti  poems  renowned  for  their  fublimity, 
from  affedled  profe.  Such  poetry  may  juftly  incur  the 
ridiculous  title  of  Profe  run  mad. 

Yet  is  there  fometimes  interwoven  a  purple  patch,  as 
Horace  calls  it ;  a  fine  expreffion,  a  truly  poetical  thought, 
an  hanronious  couplet ;  but  it  occurs  not  often  enough  to 
repay  the  reader  for  the  toilfome  taflc  of  wading  through 
a  tedious  aflemblage  of  difproportioned  and  difcordant 
ftanzas.  Of  fuch  confift  his  Pindarics  ;  which,  though 
they  procured  him  the  greateft  fhare  of  his  reputation, 
deferved  it  leaft.  Many  of  his  other  poems,  ifwecon- 
fider  the  rude  ftate  of  verification,  and  the  bad  tafte  of 
the  times,  have  great  merit;  and  had  he  made  Tibullus 
his  model,  inftead  of  Pindar,  his  claim  to  the  firft  rank 
of  elegiac  poets  had  not  been  called  in  queftion.  The 
tendernefs  of  love,  and  the  foft  language  of  complaint, 
were  adapted  to  his  genius.  But  he  chofe  to  tread  in  the 
footfteps  of  Alcsus,  as  he  fays  himfelf,  who,  according 
to  the  Halicarnalfian,  combined  the  p.tyx\<.!pvts  *a»  r,$v9 
or  adopted  the  grand,  as  well  as  the  fvveet. 

That  he  had  a  taile  for  Latin  poetry,  and  wrote  in  it 
with  elegance,  the  well-known  Epitaph  on  himfelf,  up- 
on his  retirement,  and  an  admirable  imitation  of  Horace, 
are  full  proofs.  But,  furely,  his  rhetorical  biographer 
makes  ufe  of  the  figure  hyperbole,  when  he  affirms  that 
Cowley  has  excelled  the  Romans  themfelves.  He  was 
inferior  to  many  a  writer  of  lefs  fame  in  the  Mufa;  An- 
glicana?.  But  itill  he  had  great  merit ;  and  I  muft  con- 
fefs  I  have  read  fome  of  his  Latin  verfes  with  more  plea- 
iure,  than  any  of  his  Englifh  can  afford. 

But,  after  all  the  honours  that  have  been  accumulat- 
ed on  his  name  as  a  poet,  his  great  merit  confifted  in 
profaic  compofition.  In  this  department  he  is  an  ele- 
gant, apleafing,  a  judicious  writer.  His  love  of  retire- 


No.  173.  MORA  L,    &c.  365 

ment  and  contemplation  qualified  him  for  a  moralift ; 
and  it  is  much  to  be  lamented,  that  he  did  not  devote 
a  greater  part  of  his  time  to  a  kind  of  writing  which 
appeared  natural  to  him,  and  in  which  he  excelled. 
The  language  of  his  heart  mines  forth  in  the  little  he 
has  left  us,  and  we  cannot  but  love  it, 

Much  more  of  that  language  would  have  defcended 
to  poitemy,  if  his  friends,  from  a  miilaken  opinion  of 
propriety,  had  not  fupprefled  his  private  letters.  Dr. 
Sprattand  Mr. Clifford  were  avowedly  pofle  fled  of  many; 
and  the  very  reafon  afligned  by  the  biographer,  for  their 
fuppreffion,  mould  have  operated  in  their  publication. 
The  letters  that  pafs  between  particular  friends,  fays  he, 
if  they  are  written  as  they  ought  to  be,  that  is,  I  fuppofe, 
in  an  artlefs  manner,  can  fcarcely  ever  be  fit  to  fee  the 
light.  How  great  an  injury  would  polite  learning  have 
fuftained.if  the  friends  of  Cicero  had  thought  like  Spratt 
and  Clifford ! 

They  would  better  have  confulted  the  reputation  of 
the  poet,  had  they  pronounced  the  Pindarics  unfit  to  fee 
the  light.  Editors,  in  general,  would  aft  more  honour- 
ably, in  exhibiting  only  the  beft  of  their  author's  pro- 
ductions, than  in  praifmg,  as  well  as  publifhing,  all 
that  has  fallen  from  his  pen.  But,  in  truth,  to  have 
left  out  any  part  of  his  poems,  would,  in  that  age,  have 
been  an  unpardonable  omiffion  ;  for  who  mould  dare  to 
mutilate  a  Pindar  ? 

Time,  the  great  arbiter  of  reputation,  has  already  be- 
gun to  ftrip  the  poet  of  his  borrowed  honours.  A  critic, 
whofe  genius  and  judgment  keep  pace  with  each  other, 
and  who  illuminates  every  fubjeft  on  which  he  treats, 
has  allotted  Cowley  his  juft  fpecies  of  praife,  and  has 
given  the  world,  in  a  judicious  feledion  of  his  works, 
all  that  they  poflefied  of  real  value. 

Of  thefe  the  profe  forms  a  principal  part.  It  is  writ- 
ten in  a  ilyle  fufficiently  flowing  to  prove  that  Cowley 
was  not  deftitute  of  a  mufical  ear  ;  a  circumftance  which 
countenances  the  opinion  of  thofe  who  maintain  that  he 
affected  a  rugged  ftyle.  Was  it  a  compliance  with  the 
tafte  of  the  age,  that  induced  him  to  affed  deformity  ? 
Unfortunate  compliance  with  a  deplorable  tafte.  He, 
as  well  as  they  whom  he  imitated,  Donne  and  Johnfon, 
R  3  wer« 


366  ESSAYS,  No.  174. 

were  unqueftionably  pofTefTed  of  great  learning  and  in- 
genuity; but  they  all  neglected  the  graces  of  competi- 
tion, and  will,  therefore,  foon  be  numbered  among 
thofe  once  celebrated  writers,  whole  utility  now  coniiits 
in  filling  a  vacancy  on  the  upper  fhelf  of  feme  dully  and 
deferred"  library. 


No.   CL.XXIV.      CURSORY    AND    GENERAL 
HINTS  ON   THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 


THE  fcarcity  of  Books,  a  few  centuries  ago,  was  the 
principal  obtlacle  to  the  advancement  of  learning. 
The  multitude  of  them  is  become,  in  the  prefent  age, 
Scarcely  lefs  injurious  to  its  interefts,  by  diitrading  the 
ftudent  in  his  choice,  and  by  diffufing  an  incorrect  and 
undiftingnifhing  tafte. 

To  read  all  bocks  on  all  fubjedts,  would  require  an 
uninterrupted  attention  during  the  longeft  life  even  of 
an  Antediluvian.  To  read  only  the  moil  celebrated, 
written  in  a  few  languages,  is  an  employment  fufficient 
to  fill  up  every  hour  of  laborious  application.  For  the 
fake  then  of  faving  time,  and  of  directing  the  judg- 
ment of  the  inexperienced,  it  becomes  an  uleful  attempt 
to  fuggeft  fome  general  hints,  which  may  tend  to  facili- 
tate /election. 

One  rule  of  the  greateft  confequence  is,  to  read  only, 
or  chiefly,  the  original  treatifes  in  all  the  various  depart- 
ments of  fcience,  and  of  literature.  Nearly  the  fame 
fpace  of  time,  though  not  the  fame  degree  of  attention, 
is  necefiary  to  perufe  the  faint  copies  of  imitative  in- 
duftry,  as  would  appropriate  to  the  ihident  the  folid 
productions  of  native  genius.  This  rule  is  more  par- 
ticularly to  be  obferved  on  the  firft  entrance  on  ftudy. 
The  foundation  muft  be  laid  deep,  and  formed  of  folid 
materials.  The  fuperftrudture  will  often  admit  flight 
and  fuperficial  appendages.  When  we  have  ftudied  the 
fine  reliques  of  thofe  who  have  lived  before  us,  we  may 
derive  much  pleafure  from  attending  to  the  additional 
labours  of  contemporary  genius.  But  to  begin  with 

thefe 


No.  174.  MORAL,    Sec.  367 

thefe  is  to  found,  like  the  fool  recorded  in  the  Gofpel, 
an  edifice  in  the  fand. 

It  were  no  lefs  prefumptuous  than  fuperfluous  to  ad- 
drefs  directions  in  the  choice  of  authors,  to  the  (earned. 
But  we  may  venture,  without  arrogance,  to  point  out 
a  few  to  the  notice  of  the  young  and  ingenuous  pupil, 
with  a  defign  to  abbreviate  or  facilitate  his  labour. 

He  who  is  entering  on  the  Itudy  of  divinity,  will  na- 
turally devote  his  firft  attention  to  the  fcriptures.  The 
original  language  of  the  Old  Teilament  is  often  un- 
known even  to  the  learned  and  ingenious ;  and  not- 
withltanding  what  fome  critics  have,  as  it  were,  offi- 
cially obferved  on  the  fubjecl,  the  neglect  of  it,  though 
culpable,  is  feldom  attended  with  much  difadvantage. 
Put  the  knowledge  of  Greek  is  indifpenfably  neceflary, 
if  theology  is  purfued  as  a  profefiion. 

The  prophetical  parts  will  claim  the  greateft  (hare  of 
attention  in  the  perufal  of  the  Old  Teftament.  Dr. 
Kurd's  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Prophecies  will 
te  a  fufficient  guide  for  fubfequent  application  to  them. 
To  illuftrate  the  New  T'eftament,  it  will  be  proper  to 
have  recourfe  to  Percy's  Key  to  it,  to  Trapp's  Notes,  to 
Locke  on  the  Epiftles,  and  to  Mede  on  the  Apocalypfe, 
With  thefe  affiltances  the  ftucicnt,  who  is  not  deficient  in 
natural  ability,  will  make  a  competent  profidc  rev,  ' 
though  he  (hould  totally  neglect  tliofe  myriads  of  trea- 
tifes,  which  have  rendered  the  bo<iy  of  divinity,  a;  it  is 
called,  enormous  beyond  comprehenfion. 

The  Jtudent  in  phyfic  is  commonly  introduced  to  the 
knowledge  of  it  by  a  public  lecturer,  who  fuperintends, 
or  at  leait  directs,  his  courfe  of  reading.  Natural  and 
experimental  fciencc,  in  all  their  ramifications,  are  in 
fome  degree  requifite  to  his  further  advancement.  Thefe 
alone  will  indeed  render  him  ingenious  in  his  clofet,  but 
will  avail  little  at  the  beufide  without  other  aid.  To 
thefe  ir.uit  be  added  a  moil  accurate  obfervation  of  the 
human  frame  in  all  its  viciflitudes  of  health,  difeafe, 
and  ccnvaiefcence.  The  reading  of  cafes  accurately  de- 
lineated, is  found  to  be  the  belt  lucccdaneum  where  ac- 
tual practice  and  obfervation  are  precluded.  Syllem  is 
in  general  deluiTve  and  infuirkLnt. 

To  the  profefled   lawyers,   fcarcely  any  book  on  the 

fubjed  of  law  is  utiinterelting  or  ufelefs.     But  he  who 

K  4  purfues 


3<5»  ESSAYS,  No.  174. 

purfues  the  ftudy  merely  as  an  accomplifliment  in  a 
comprehenfive  plan  of  education,  will  find  all  the  ne- 
ceflary  lights  in  the  volumes  of  Grotius,  Puffendorf, 
Taylor,  Burn,  and  Blackitone. 

He  who  wifhes  to  gain  a  complete  knowledge  of 
grammar,  may  fucceed  in  his  attempt,  without  loading 
his  memory,  with  the  works  of  Prifcian,  or  of  thofe 
thoufands  who  have  toiled  in  this  circumfcribed  pro- 
vince. Let  him,  after  having  rtudied  grammatically 
the  elements  of  Latin  and  Greek,  digeil  the  Hermes 
of  Harris,  and  the  Introduction  of  Lowth. 

The  art  of  rhetoric  never  yet  formed  an  Englifli  ora- 
tor. It  is  one  of  thofe  artificial  affiftances  of  genius, 
•which  genius  wants  not,  and  of  which  dulnefs  can  little 
avail  itfelf.  But  as  there  are  excellent  books  written  on 
it,  the  general  fcholar  mart  pay  it  his  attention.  Let 
him  then  read  Cicero  on  the  Orator,  and  Quinclilian's 
Inftitutes,  and  he  need  not  trouble  himfelf  with  thofe 
meagre  treatifes  which  give  a  hard  name  to  the  natural 
modes  of  exprefllon,  and  teach  us  that,  like  Hudibras, 
•we  cannot  ope  our  mouths,  but  out  there  flies  a  trope. 

He  who  is  impelled  by  neceffity  or  inclination  to  at- 
tend to  logic,  may  with  propriety  neglect  all  the  rub- 
bim  of  the  fchools,  and,  next  to  the  Stagyrite  himfelf, 
ftudy  only  the  works  of  Saunderfon,  Wallis,  Watts,  and 
Harris. 

If  the  barren  field  of  metaphyfics  is  ever  capable  of 
repaying  the  toil  of  cultivation,  it  can  only  be  when 
the  attention  is  confined  to  fuch  authors  as  Locke, 
Huchefon,  and  Beattie. 

If  ethics  are  to  be  confidered  in  the  fyftematical  me- 
thod of  a  fcience,  the  moral  philofophy  of  Huchefon 
may  be  recommended  as  one  of  the  cleared,  the  moft 
elegant,  and  the  concifeft  treatifes  that  have  appeared 
upon  them.  The  numerous  writers  who  have  fabricat- 
ed fanciful  and  deflrufVive  fyftems,  may  be  fuftered  to 
fink  in  the  gulph  of  oblivion  never  to  emerge. 

In  natural  philofophy,  the  airy  fabrics  of  hypothetical 
vifions  ought  not  to  claim  the  attention  of  a  moment. 
The  fun  of  Newton  has  abforbed  the  radiance  of  all 
other  luminaries  in  this  department.  His  works  and 
thofe  of  his  followers  will,  of  courfe,  fuperfede  the  in- 
finite number  of  folios,  which,  to  ufe  the  expreffions 

of 


No.  174.  MORAL,    &c.  369 

of  Horace,  may  be  fent  to  wrap  up  frankincenfe  and 
perfumes,  the  only  way  in  which  they  can  now  be,  ufe- 
ful.-  He  to  whom  the  works  of  the  great  philofopher 
are  untelligible,  may  acquiefce  with  fecurity  in  the  il- 
Juftrations  of  Pemberton  and  Rowning.  The  lover  of 
natural  hiftory,  zoology,  and  botany,  will  not  be  at  a 
lofs  in  the  feleftion  of  books,  while  fame  refounds  the 
names  of  Buffbn,  of  Pennant,  of  Linnaeus.  The  Ro- 
mances of  Pliny  and  his  imitators  will  have  no  charms 
with  the  lover  of  truth. 

To  the  claflical  fcholar,  the  proper  books  are  ufually 
pointed  out  by  the  fuperintendants  of  his  education,; 
and  when  once  he  has  tailed  them,  his  Ovvn  cultivated 
feelings  will  direct  him  in  the  choice  of  modern  pro- 
ductions. Every  one  knows  who  were  the  belt  authors 
in  the  Auguftan  age;  and  the  chief  caution  necefl'ary  is, 
that  the  text  of  a  Virgil,  a  Horace,  an  Ovid,  may  not  be 
loft  in  the  attention  given  to  the  tedious  comments  of  a 
few  Dutchmen.  I  have  known  thofe  who  have  toiled 
through  the  claffics,  cum  notij  •variorum,  much  lefs  ac- 
quainted with  them  than  he  who  never  read  them  but 
in  Sandby's  edition.  In  attending  to  Burman  and  Hein- 
fius,  they  overlooked  the  text ;  which  .was  loft  like  a 
jewel  in  a  dunghill.  Thefe  laborious  annotators  explain 
what  needs  not  explanation,  and,  with  a  little  critical 
knavery,  pafs  by  a  real  difficulty  without  notice.  I  am 
convinced  that  a  tafte  for  the  claffics  is  rather  impeded 
than  promoted  by  the  Dauphin  edition,  in  which  boys 
are  initiated ;  but  in  which  the  words  of  the  author  are 
choaked,  like  wholefome  plants  among  weeds,  by  the 
notes  and  interpretation.  To  be  poifefled  of  comments 
on  the  claffics  is  however  definable,  for  difficulties  will 
fometimes  occur  which  at  firft  fight  perplex  the  moft  in- 
genious ;  but  I  mould  prefer,  for  common  reading,  fuch. 
editions  as  that  of  Jones's  Horace. 

Directions  for  the  formation  of  the  lady's  librnry 
have  often  been  wanted  by  thofe,  who,  with  an  incli- 
nation for  the  elegant  amufement  of  reading,  have  been 
unable  to  indulge  it  without  danger,  becaufe  they  had 
none  to  guide  them  in  their  choke.  In  my  humble 
opinion,  the  following  books  might  have  a  place  in  it, 
not  or.ly  without  hazard  of  ill  tonfequences,  but  with 
R  5  great 


370  ESSAYS,  No.  175. 

great  advantage  to  tafle,  and  to  that  perfonal  beauty 
which  arifes  from  mental.  All  the  periodical  publica- 
tions of  repute  that  have  been  written  on  the  model  of 
the  Spectator,  Rollin's  Works,  Plutarch's  Lives,  Shake- 
fpeare,  Milton,  Pope,  and  the  moil:  efteemed  hiflorians 
of  their  own  country,  may  be  ftrongly  recommended. 
To  thefe,  for  the  fake  of  imbibing  a  claflkal  talle,  may 
be  added  the  beft  tranflations  of  the  antients,  Pope's 
Homer,  Dryden's  Virgil,  and  Melmoth's  Pliny.  If 
French  Books  are  required,  thofe  of  Boileau,  Fontenelle, 
Le  Pluche,  and  fome  feleft  pieces  of  Voltaire  and  Rouf- 
feau,  may  with  propriety  be  admitted.  Novels,  it  is 
feared,  will  not  be  difpenfed  with  :  Thofe  then  of  Ri- 
chardfon  and  Fielding  are  allowed,  yet  not  without  re- 
luctance. Every  thing  indelicate  will  of  courfe  be  ex- 
cluded ;  but  perhaps  there  is  not  lefs  danger  in  works 
called  fentimental.  They  attack  the  heart  more  fuc- 
cefsfully,  becaufe  more  cauti&ufly.  Religious  books 
will  find  a  place,  but  not  without  reftridlion  ;  for  there 
is  a  fpecies  of  devotional  compofition,  which,  by  in- 
flaming the  paffions  and  imagination,  contributes  to 
corruption,  while  it  feems  to  promote  the  warmeft  piety. 
From  their  fenfibility  of  heart  and  warmth  of  fancy, 
the  fpfter  fex  is  fuppofed  to  be  moft  inclined  to  atomic 
the  errors  of  myltics  and  enthufiafts. 


NO;   CLXXV.     CURSORY    REMARKS    ON    THE 
ODYSSEY,     ON    POPE'S    TRANSLATION,     MR* 

SPENCE'S  ESSAY,  &c. 


IT  is  generally  agreed,  that  the  OdxfTey  is  inferior  to 
the  Iliad.      It  is  thought  by  Longinus,  as  well  as  by 
other  critics,  to  have  been  the  production  cf  Homer's 
eld  age,  when  it  may  reasonably  be  fuppofed  the  ardour 
ef   nis  genius  was'in  feme  degree  abated.     "  In  the 
*'   OdyfTey,"  fays  that  critic,   "  he  may  be  juftly  faid 
44  -to  referable  tne  felting  fun,  whofe  grandeur  iliil  re- 
"  mains  without  the  original  heat  of  his  beams.     Like- 
i  "  th*- 


No.  175.  MORAL,     &<r.  371 

the  ocean,  whofe  very  mores,  when  deferted  by  the 
tide,  mark  out  how  wide  it  (onetimes  flows  -r  fo- 
Homer's  genius,  when  ebbing  into  all  thole  fabulous 
and  incredible  ramblings  of  Ulyffes,  mews  plainly 
how  fublime  it  once  had  been.  I  am  fpeaking  of  old 
age,  but  it  is  the  old  age  of  Homer." 
It  is  certain,  that  if  the  Odyftey  is  not  to  be  placed 
in  the  fame  rank  with  the  Iliad,  fo  neither  ought  it  to 
obtain  fo  low  a  clafs  as  to  be  overlooked  and  difregard- 
ed.  It  has,  however,  been  negledled  by  the  moderns,, 
and  they  who  have  been  able  to  repeat  the  Iliad,  have 
fcarcely  deigned  to  read  the  Odyfley.  Every  fchool- 
boy  is  acquainted  with  the  anger  of  Achilles  and  its 
confequences,  while  he  neither  knows  nor  is  felicitous 
to  learn  the  adventures  of  the  wife  Ulyfles  :  though  wif- 
dom,  it  may  be  fuppofed,  would  be  commonly  a  better 
model  for  his  imitation  th-an  valour. 

An  ingenious  writer  has  endeavoured  to  vindicate  the 
Odyfley  from  the  negleft  in  which  it  has  long  lain  ;  but 
a  prepofTeffion  in  favour  of  eftablifhed  culloms,  has  hi- 
therto prevented  our  public  fchools  from  fubftituting  it 
in  the  room  of  the  Iliad.  That  the  Iliad  mould  be  ne- 
glefted  is  not  indeed  to  be  wiihed,  but  that  it  fliould 
engrofs  our  whole  attention,  to  the  utter  exclulion  of 
the  Odyfley,  is  certainly  unreafonable. 

The  Iliad  prefents  its  with  a  rough  profpeft,  like  that 
of  high  mountains,  crao-gy  rocks,  and  framing  cata- 
rafts  ;  while  the  Odyfley  exhibits  a  fofter  fcene,  and 
fuggells  idea;  fimilar  to  thofe  which  arife  from  the  land* 
(cape,  where  all  is  mild,  ferene,  and  beautiful.  The 
one  is  like  the  pictures  of  Pouifin,  the  other  li'.ce  thofe 
of  Claude  Lorain.  A  reader  admires  the  Iliad,,  but  he 
loves  the  Odyfley. 

The  works  of  Homer  appeared  fo  early  in  the  world, 
and  fince  their  appearance  have  been  fo  frequently  praifed 
and  illuftrated,  that  at  this  late  period  it  is  not  neceffary 
to  add  to  the  general  panegyric.  Suffice  it  to  recommend 
the  perufal  of  a  few  authors,  which  may  clear  the  vvs.y  to 
the  ftudy  of  the  OdylFey.  Amon-g  thefe,  are  the  papers 
in  the  Adventurer  on  this  fubjecl,  Pope's  Notes  to  hi* 
Tranflation,  anJ  abuve  all  Mr.  Spence's  very  elegant 
and  ingenious  Eflay»  As  to  the  Tranflation  itfelf,  it 
&  6  abounds 


372  ESSAYS,  No.  175. 

abounds  with  faults  and  abfurdities.  Without  derogat- 
ing from  the  merit  of  Pope  as  an  original  poet,  we  may 
venture  to  pronounce  his  OdyfTey  a  paraphrafe,  rather 
than  a  juft  tranflation  of  Homer.  The  copy  no  more 
refembles  the  pifture,  than  the  portrait  on  a  fign-poft 
ufually  refembles  the  perfonage  intended  to  be  exhibited. 
The  chief  beauty  of  Homer  is  fimplicity,  which,  in  the 
Tranflation,  is  facrificed  to  a  gaudy  glare  and  artificial 
embellifliments.  As  a  poem  confidered  by  itfelf,  it  has 
many  beautiful  paflages ;  but  as  a  tranflation,  it  is  per- 
liaps  unworthy  the  reputation  it  has  obtained. 

To  cenfure  fo  celebrated  a  name,  might  appear  ar- 
rogant in  an  individual,  were  he  not  fupported  by 
many  and  judicious  critics.  Mr.  Spence,  whofe  opinion 
is  decifive,  and,  inftar  omnium,  points  out  defefts  in 
Pope's  Tranflation,  which  could  never  have  efcaped  fo 

freat  a  poet  but  from  hafte  and  wearinefs.  In  this  work, 
ope  was  affifted  by  inferior  writers ;  but  as  the  whole 
is  publifhed  under  his  name,  he  will  ever  be  anfwerable 
for  its  faults.  The  tranflation  of  the  Iliad,  though  a 
very  excellent  model  of  verification,  exhibits  not  a  juft 
pifture  of  the  fimple,  yet  magnificent,  Masonian. 

Mr.  Spence's  Eflay,  at  the  fame  time  that  it  will  ex- 
hibit the  deformities  of  the  Tranflation,  will  infpire  a 
tafte  for  the  beauties  of  the  original ;  and,  indeed,  the 
general  remarks,  which  are  interfperfed  with  the  greateft 
judgment  and  elegance,  will  contribute  to  teach  a  juft 
method  of  criticifm  in  almoft  every  fpecies  of  poetry. 

Mr.  Spence  was  a  truly  claflical  writer.  He  was  no 
lefs  amiable  in  his  manners  than  pleafing  in  his  produc- 
tions. That  he  chiefly  wrote  in  dialogue  is  to  be  la- 
mented ;  for  that  form,  where  the  perfons  are  fictitious, 
has  feldom  been  approved  in  England,  though  it  has 
cften  fucceeded  in  France. 


CLXXVI. 


No.  176.  MORAL,    &c.  373 


No.  CLXXVI.  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  OEDIPUS 
TYRANNUS  OF  SOPHOCLES,  AND  SEVERAL 
CIRCUMSTANCES  RESPECTING  THE  GRECIAN 
DRAMA. 


OF  the  three  Greek  dramatic  poets,  Sophocles  is  the 
mod  celebrated;  and  of  the  productions  of  So- 
phocles, the  GEdipus  Tyrannus  is  the  moft  excellent. 
It  has  flood  the  tefl  of  the  feverefl  criticifm.  The  unities 
of  time,  place,  and  action,  are  inviolably  preferved  :  and 
while  the  Tragedy  fatisfies  the  critic,  who  judges  it  by 
the  laws  of  Ariftotle,  it  pleafes  the  common  reader  and 
fpeclator,  who  forms  his  opinion  from  the  feelings  of 
his  nature.  Never  was  there  a  tale  more  affefting  thr.n 
that  of  CEdipus,  and  never  was  it  told  more  patheti- 
cally than  by  Sophocles.  Many  a  tear  has  it  excited 
from  an  Athenian  audience,  whofe  hearts  were  ever 
finely  fufceptible  of  the  fentiments  of  humanity  :  but 
the  befl  tranflation  of  it  would  not  equally  pleafe  in  a 
modern  theatre.  Many  other  caufes  of  its  failure  may 
be  afCgned,  befides  that  fimplicity,  artlefihefs,  and  in- 
complexity  of  fable,  which  the  tafle  of  the  moderns  is 
too  much  vitiated  to  relim. 

In  the  firfl  place,  it  mull  be  confidered,  that  every 
original  compofition  mud  lofe  fomething  of  its  beauty 
from  the  befl  tranflation.  It  is  a  common  remark,  that 
the  fpirit  of  an  author,  like  that  of  fome  efTences,  eva- 
porates by  transfufion.  Foreign  manners,  and  foreign 
cufloms,  are  feldom  underflood  by  a  common  audience, 
and  as  feldom  approved.  The  majority  of  an  Englifh 
audience  are  unacquainted  with  antient  learning,  and 
can  take  no  pleafure  in  the  repreientation  of  men  and 
things  which  have  not  fallen  under  their  notice.  Add 
to  this,  that  they  love  to  fee  Tragedies  formed  on  their 
own  hiftories,  or  on  hiftories  in  which  they  are  in  fome 
manner  nearly  interefled.  When  Shakefpeare's  hiflo- 
rical  dramas  are  reprefented,  they  feel  as  Englifhmen  ia 

every 


'374  ESSAYS,  No.  r;5. 

every  event  ;  they  take  part  with  their  Edwards  and 
Henries,  as  friends  and  fellow-countrymen  ;  they  glory 
in  their  fuccefTes,  and  fympathize  with  their  misfortunes. 
To  a  fimilar  circum(tance  may  part  of  the  aoplaufe, 
which  the  Athenians  beftowed  on  this  Tragedy  of  So- 
phocles, be  attributed  ;  for  CEdipus  was  king  of  a 
neighbouring  country,  with  which  the  Athenians  were 
always  intimately  connected  either  in  war  or  peace. 
.  Thefe  confiderations  fhould  teach  us  to  content  our- 
felves  with  admiring  Sophocles  in  the  clofet,  without  at- 
tempting to  obtrude  him  on  the  ftage,  which  muft  always 
accommodate  itfelf  to  the  taite  of  the  times,  whether  un- 
jeafonable  or  juft,  confident  or  capricious. 

In  truth,  the  warmeft  admirer  of  antient  Greek  poetry 
muft  acknowledge  a  barrennefs  of  invention  in  the  choice 
of  fubjecls.  The  Trojan  war,  and  the  misfortunes  of 
the  Theban  king,  arealmoft  the  only  fources  from  which 
thofe  great  mafters  of  compofition,  Homer,  ./Efchylus, 
Euripides,  and  Sophocles,  have  derived  their  fubjefl 
matter.  They  have,  indeed,  embellifhed  thefe  little 
parts  of  hiltory  with  all  the  fire  of  imagination  and  me- 
lody of  poetry  ;  but  is  it  not  ftrange,  that  in  a  country 
like  Greece,  where  the  reftlefs  fpirit  of  military  virtue 
was  continually  forming  noble  defigns,  and  atchieving- 
glorious  exploits,  the  poets  could  diicover  no  illuftrious 
deed  worthy  of  being  painted  in  never  fading  colours,  but 
the  worn-out  ftories  of  a  wooden  horfe,  and  a  Sphinx's 
riddle  ?  It  is  difficult  for  an  age  like  the  prefent,  which 
hungers  and  thirfts  after  novelty,  to  conceive  that  an 
audience  could  fit  with  patience  during  the  recital  of  a 
ftory  which  all  muft  have  heard  a  thoufand  times ;  efpe- 
cially  as  it  was  unadorned  with  the  meretricious  artifices 
of  players,  with  thunder  and  lightning,  hail  and  rain, 
tolling  bells,  and  tinfel  garments. 

But  the  famenefs  of  the  ftory  in  the  Grecian  poets 
became  agieeable  to  the  audience,  through  that  ve- 
neration which  every  record  of  antient  hiftory  de- 
mands. That  the  flory  on  which  a  dramatic  poem  is 
founded,  mould  not  be  of  modern  date,  has,  I  think, 
been  laid  down  as  a  rule.  Nor  is  it  the  precept  of  an 
arbitrary  critic,  but  is  juftified  by  nature  ,and  reafon. 
Imagination,  always  exceeds  reality*  The  vulgar  could 


No.  176.  MORAL,    &c.  375 

never  prevail  upon  themfelves  to  look  on  fcene?,  to  the 
reality  of  which  they  have  been  eye-witnefles,  with  the 
fame  ardour  as  on  thofe  which  they  have  received  from 
their  anceftors,  and  have  painted  with  the  ftrongeft  co- 
lours on  their  fancy.  In  obedience  to  this  rule,  the 
Greek  poets  took  their  fubjecls  from  antient  fafts  uni- 
verfally  known,  believed,  and  admired:  and  the  audi- 
ence entered  the  theatre,  to  behold  a  lively  reprefentation 
of  the  picture  already  formed  in  their  own  imagination. 

A  modern  reader  has  not  a  preparatory  difpofition  of 
mind  neceflary  to  receive  all  that  pleafure  from  thefe 
compofitions,  which  tranfported  an  antient  Greek.  He 
does  not  glow  with  that  patriotic  ardour  which  he  would 
feel  on  reading  glorious  deeds  of  a  fellow-countryman,, 
when  Homer  reprefents  a  hero  breaking  the  Trojan  pha- 
lanx and  encountering  a  Heclor.  He  does  not  confider 
an  antient  Theban  or  Athenian  involved  in  the  guilt  of 
undefigned  parricide  or  incell,  nearly  enough  connected 
with  him  to  excite  his  fympathy  in  a  violent  degree  ;  but 
all  thefe  feelings  in  a  Grecian  audience,  occafioned  by  a 
Grecian  fufferer,  account  for  that  uncommon  delight 
which  ,hey  took  in  their  dramatic  reprefentations,  and 
for  their  freedom  from  that  fatiety  which  might  otherwife 
have  been  occafioned  by  a  fimple  and  reiterated  tale. 

An  Englifh  audience  has  lately  fhewn  itfelf  not  fa 
averfe  from  the  antient  Tragedy,  as  was  expeded,  by 
its  favourable  reception  of  Elfrida  and  Cara&acus,  writ- 
ten on  the  Grecian  model :  but,  perhaps,  this  event  i* 
not  fo  much  to  be  attributed  to  the  revival  of  the  refin- 
ed taite  of  an  Attic  auJience,  as  to  the  infatiable  avi- 
dity of  fomething  new.  The  Englifh  are  as  fond  of 
the  *«usv  T»  in  literature,  as  the  Athenians  were  in  po- 
litics: but,  whether  caprice  or  reafon,  whether  tafte  or 
fafhion,  gave  them  a  favourable  reception  on  the  Eng- 
lifh ibge,  it  is  certain  that  Elfrida  and  Caraclacus  are 
elegant  poems,  formed  exactly  on  the  antient  model,  and 
may  be  read  with  great  advantage  by  thofe  who  wifh  to 
er.urtain  a  juft  idea  of  the  Greek  Tragedy  without  a 
knowledge  of  the  language. 


No,  CLXXVH, 


ESSAYS,  No.  177, 


No.  CLXXVII.  CURSORY  REMARKS  ON  SOME 
OF    THE    MINOR   ENGLISH    POETS. 


WE  are  told  in  the  epiftle  to  the  Pifos,  that  poeti- 
cal mediocrity  is  intolerable ;  yet  we  find  that 
Poets,  of  inferior  merit  as  well  as  fame,  are  read  with 
pleafure. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  loudeft  melody  of  the  grove 
is  poured  forth  by  the  lark,  the  blackbird,  the  thrufli, 
and  the  nightingale;  but  it  is  no  lefs  true,  that  their 
paufes  are  often  filled  by  the  fweet  warblings  of  the  lin- 
net and  the  red-breaft.  The  lofty  cedar  that  waves  on 
the  fummit  of  the  poetic  mountain,  feems  to  overfhadow, 
and  exclude,  by  its  luxuriance,  all  other  vegetation.  He, 
however,  who  approaches  it,  will  find  many  a  violet  and 
primrofe  fpringing  at  its  root.  He  will  often  difcover, 
amid  a  plentiful  growth  of  weeds,  a  modeft  flowret  lift- 
ing its  humble  head,  and  becoming  more  beautiful  by 
feeming  to  conceal  the  native  fweetnefs  of  its  odour, 
and  the  luftre  of 'its  hues. 

The  firft  dignities  in  the  political  commonwealth  are 
pre-occupied  by  fuch  writers  as  Spencer,  Milton,  Dry- 
den,  and  Pope;  but,  at  the  fame  time,  the  numerous 
fubaltern  ftations  are  frequently  filled  with  honour. 

Many  Poets  of  original  beauty  were  in  their  own  times 
fo  obfcure  as  to  be  now  totally  unknown.  Such  are  the 
authors  of  our  moft  popular  ballads,  the  general  recep- 
tion of  which  is  a  proof  of  their  excellence,  more  con- 
vincing than  the  decifions  of  criticifm.  The  learned 
Poet  has  commonly  owed  much  of  hij  excellence  to  imi- 
tation ;  but  the  ballad-writer  drew  only  from  his  own 
refources  when  he  fung  the  wild  wood-notes  of  nature. 
There  metre  often  poffefles  a  kind  of  harmony  quite  dif- 
ferent from  claflical  verification  ;  yet,  at  the  fame  time, 
truly  pleafing  to  the  uncorrupted  ear. 

Of  Poets  or.ce  known  and  admired,  feveral  are  fallen 
into  total  difrepute.  Drayton  was  honoured  by  a  com- 
mentator who  muit  have  given  fame  to  any  writer.  If 

Selden's 


No.  177.  MORAL,     &c.  3.77 

Selden's  tafte  was  equal  to  his  learning,  Drayton  is  in- 
deed moft  highly  diftinguifhed.  The  Polyolbion  is, 
however,  no  more  read ;  and  the  flow  length  of  the  te- 
dious Alexandrine  in  which  it  is  written,  will  prevent  its 
revival,  as  it  has  haftened  its  oblivion. 

The  Gondibert  of  D'Avenant  has  been  the  fubjefl 
of  critical  controverfy  from  the  time  of  its  publication, 
Its  plan  was  originally  defended  by  the  great  Hobbes, 
and  its  execution  has  been  greatly  praifed.  Yet  few 
have  attended  to  it  with  any  plcafure,  and  ftill  fewer 
have  had  a  degree  of  patience  fufficient  to  bear  them 
through  the  perufal  of  it.  The  truth  is,  the  ftanza 
which  he  adopted,  is  better  fuited  to  elegiac  than  to  he- 
roic poetry.  A  beautifully  defcriptive  paflage,  inter- 
fperfed  in  the  courfe  of  two  or  three  hundred  lines,  will 
not  alleviate  the  tedium  of  the  reft ;  as  an  occafional  flafh 
of  lightning  cannot  illuminate  the  continued  gloominefs 
of  an  extenfive  profpect. 

For  the  honour  of  Englifli  literature,  moft  of  the  poe- 
tical productions  which  were  admired  in  the  reign  of 
Charles,  mould  now  be  configned  to  everlafting  obli- 
vion. They  difplay,  indeed,  a  fportive  licentioufnefs 
of  fancy,  but  they  are  incorrect  beyond  the  example  of 
any  age.  Some  of  the  belt  poets  of  the  times,  among 
whom  were  Mulgrave,  Dorfet,  and  Rofcommon,  though 
poflefled  of  wit  and  tafte,  produced  nothing  worthy  of 
immortality.  The  morals  of  the  age  were  as  licentious 
as  the  tafte;  and  the  love  of  pleafure  introduced  an  in- 
dolence, which  admitted  not  an  application  fufficient  to 
give  the  laft  polifh  of  correct  elegance. 

The  ftudy  of  the  antients,  and  of  the  French,  has 
gradually  refined  the  national  tafte  to  a  degree  of  fafti- 
dious  delicacy ;  and  writers  who  have  pollelled  clafiical 
beauty  have  been  read  with  admiration,  though  they 
have  had  nothing  to  recommend  them  to  the  notice  of 
a  Charles  the  Second  or  a  Sedley. 

The  number  of  minor  poets  who  difplayed  great 
merit,  yet  who  feem  to  have  derived  it  all  from  imita- 
tion, is  too  tedious  to  enumerate.  Philips  and  his  friend 
Smith  were  correct  and  clafiical  in  a  degree  fuperior  to 
their  contemporaries.  Philips  has  performed  the  tafk 
of  imitation,  with  an  accuracy  of  rcfemblance  fcarcely 

equalled 


378  ESSAYS,  No.  177. 

equalled  by  any  of  his  followers  but  Browne.  The 
Phsedraand  Hippolitus  of  Smith  has  ever  been  efteemed 
a  fine  poem,  and  the  b?auty  of  the  ftyle,  and  harmony 
of  the  verfe,  induce  us  to  regret  that  he  lived  to  finilh  fo 
few  productions. 

Within  the  fpace  of  half  the  laft  century,  a  defire  to 
imitate  the  excellent  models  of  our  more  celebrated 
bards,  has  crowded  the  middle  ranks  with  a  multitude 
too  great  to  obtain,  even  for  the  deferving  individual, 
any  very  diftinguimed  fame.  One  Poec  has  arifen  after 
another,  and  iupplanted  him  as  the  fucceeding  wave 
feems  to  fwallovv  up  the  wave  that  went  before.  Moil 
of  them  have  exhibited  an  harmonious  verification,  and 
have  felecled  a  profufion  of  fplendid  expreffions  ;  but 
have  in  general  been  deficient  in  that  noble  fire,  and 
thofe  fimple  graces,  which  mark  originality  of  genius. 
They  are,  however,  read  with  pleafure,  and  fweetly  fill 
up  the  intervals  of  avocation  among  the  bufy  and  com- 
mercial world,  who  are  not  acquainted  with  the  Greeks 
and  Romans,  and  with  whom  novelty  often  poffeiles  the 
charm  of  beauty. 

There  is  a  force  and  folemnity  in  the  poems  of  Tickell, 
•which  at  lead  place  him  on  a  level  with  his  patron  as  a 
poet.  His  Colin  and  Lucy  is  one  of  the  moil  fweetly 
pathetic  poems  in  the  language. 

Broome,  though  honourably  aflbciated  with  Pope  in 
the  work  of  tranflation,  feems  to  have  had  fcarcely  any 
other  merit  than  this  to  bear  him  down  the  ftreara  of 
time. 

Trapp  wrote  Latin  verfe  with  elegance,  and  was  3 
good  critic;  but  it  has  been  obferved  of  his  Virgil,  that 
he  had  done  wifely  to  have  ftopped  at  his  preface. 

The  genius  of  Collins  feems  in  fome  meafure  to  have 
refembled  that  of  Tickell.  Dignity,  folemnity,  and 
pathos,  are  the  ftriking  features  of  his  compoiitions. 
None  but  a  true  poet  could  have  written  the  long  over 
Ficiele  in  Shakefpeare's  Cymbeline. 

The  Englilh  Tibullus,  Hammond,  has  written  truly 
elegant  verfe  ;  but  I  know  not  whether  his  reprefenta- 
tions  greatly  affeft  the  heart,  though  they  are  approved 
by  the  judgment  and  imagination.  They  have,  how- 
£ver,  ferved  as  patterns  for  the  love-fick  nymphs  and 

fwains, 


No.  178.  MORAL,     &c.  37$ 

jfwains,  who  delight  in  giving  vent  to  their  paflion  in  the 
language  of  poetry. 

Love  and  its  efre-cls  were  beautifully  defcribed  by  the 
elegantly  fenfible  Lord  Lyttehon.  To  afiert  that  he 
was  remarkable  for  poetical  genius,  were  to  leflen,  by 
endeavouring  to  exaggerate,  his  praife.  Force,  fire, 
and  an  exuberance  of  invention,  were  not  his  excel- 
lences ;  but  that  equable  beauty  of  fentiment  and 
diftion,  which  refuhs  from  an  elegant  mind.  The 
graces  diflinguiih  his  compofidons,  as  the  virtues  mark- 
ed his  honourable  life. 

Moore's  Fables  difplay  indubitable  marks  of  genius  ; 
but  he  wants  the  fimplicity  of  Gay  and  Fontaine.  He 
fhews,  however,  a  talent  for  defcription,  which  would 
have  (hone  in  the  higher  kinds  of  poetry;  and  a  deli- 
cacy of  mind,  which,  it'might  be  fuppofed,  could  be 
acquired  only  in  a  higher  fphere  than  that  in  which  he 
was  born. 

Genius  and  learning  were  poflefTed  in  a  very  emi- 
nent degree  by  Merrick.  He  had  that  peculiar  kind  of 
genius  which  qualified  him  to  excel  in  the  department 
of  facred  poetry.  It  is  to  be  wifhed,  that  his  verfion  of 
the  Pfalms  were  adopted  in  churches,  not  only  in  the 
place  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  but  of  Brady  and 
Tate.  Such  an  event  would  be  no  lefs  advantageous  to 
piety,  than  to  tafte. 


No.  CLXXVIII.  CURSORY  AND  UNCON- 
NECTED REMARKS  ON  SOME  OF  THE  MINOR. 
GREEK.  POETS.  . 

TH  E  intrinfic  graces  of  the  claffic  writers  have 
charmed  every  mind  which  was  fufccptiblc  of  the 
beauties  of  fpirit,  taile,  and  elegance.  Since  the  revival 
of  learning,  innumerable  critics  have  employed  them- 
felvesin  dilplaying  the  beauties  which  they  felt,  or  in  re- 
moving the  difficulties  and  obftrudlions  which  retarded 
their  rrogrefs  in  the  perufal  of  the  antients.  At  prefent, 
there  is  Icarcely  any  room  for  criiicifin  on  the  antients : 

and 


380  E     S    S    A    Y    S,  No.  17*. 

and  the  moft  laborious  Commentator  finds,  with  regret, 
his  profoundeft  refearches,  and  his  acuteft  remarks,  anti- 
cipated by  the  lucubrations  of  former  critics  :  but  as  there 
is  fcarcely  a  greater  difference  between  the  features  of  the 
face,  than  between  the  faculties  of  the  mind  in  different 
men,  and  as  objeds  muft  ftrike  various  feelings  in  vari- 
ous manners,  the  works  of  tafte  and  genius  may,  on 
different  reviews,  furnifh  inexhauftible  matter  for  criti- 
cal obfervation.  Upon  this  principle,  authors  of  the 
prefent  age  venture  to  add  to  the  labours  of  their  pre- 
deceflbrs,  without  fearing  or  incurring  the  imputation 
of  vanity  or  impertinence. 

The  prefent  remarks.fhall  be  confined  to  fome  of  the 
Greek  Minor  Poets,  without  minutely  attending  to 
chronological  or  any  other  order. 

In  the  union  of  dignity  with  fweetnefs,  of  melody* 
with  ftrength,  the  Greek  is  better  adapted  to  beautiful 
compofition,  than  any  modern  language.  The  Italian 
has  all  its  foftnefs,  but  wants  its  force.  The  French 
poflefles  elegance  and  expreffion,  but  is  deficient  ia 
found  and  dignity.  The  Englifh  is  ftrong,  nervous^ 
flowery,  fit  for  animated  oratory  and  enthufiaftic  poetry, 
but  abounds  with  Saxon  monofyllables,  ill  adapted  to 
exprefs  the  mufic  of  mellifluous  cadence.  To  compare 
the  Dutch  and  the  German  with  the  language  of  Athens, 
were  to  compare  the  jarring  noife  of  grating  iron,  with 
the  foft  warblings  of  the  flute.  The  other  languages  of 
Europe  are  equally  unfit  for  harmonious  modulation, 
and  indeed  cannot  properly  be  examined  in  this  place, 
as  the  people,  who  fpeak  them,  have  not  yet  diftinguifh- 
ed  themfelves  by  any  writings  truly  claffical. 

The  Greek  Epigram  naturally  falls  firil  under  our 
prefent  confideration.  Of  thefe  little  competitions, 
which  owe  their  origin  to  Greece,  none  can  beinfenfible 
of  the  beauty,  whole  talk  is  not  vitiated  by  the  lefs  de- 
licate wit  of  the  modern  Epigrammatift.  Indeed,  to  re- 
lifh  the  fimple  graces  of  the  Greek  Epigram,  the  tafte  muft 
not  be  formed  upon  the  model  even  of  the  celebrated 
Martial.  Among  the  Latin  poets,  Catullus  approaches 
neareft  to  the  Greeks  in  this  fpecies  of  compofition. 

The  Anthologize,  ftill  extant,  are  written  by  various 
authors*  and  there  are  fcarcely  fufficient  Epigrams  of 

any 


No.  178.  M  O  R   A   L,    &c.  38 1 

anyone,  to  difcriminate  his  manner  from  that  of  others. 
Suffice  it  to  remark  in  general,  that  their  beauty  does 
not  often  confift  in  a  point,  or  witty  conceit,  but  in  a 
fimplicity  of  thought,  and  a  fweetnefs  of  language. 

The  golden  verfes  of  Pythagoras,  though  not  re- 
markable for  fplendor  of  di&ion,  or  flowing  verifica- 
tion, are  yet  highly  beautiful  in  the  concife  and  forcible 
mode  of  inculcating  morality, and  virtues  almoft  Chriftian. 
The  earlier  philofophers  of  Greece  conveyed  their  tenets 
in  verfe,  not  fo  much  becaufe  they  afpirecTto  the  charac- 
ter of  poets,  as  becaufe  precepts,  delivered  in  metre, 
were  more  eafily  retained  in  the  memory  of  their  difci- 
ples.  Pythagoras  has  comprifed  every  neceflary  rule  for 
the  conduft  of  life  in  this  little  poem,  and  he  that  com- 
mits it  to  memory,  will  not  want  a  guide  to  direft  his 
behaviour  under  any  event:  but  though  the  morality  of 
thefe  verfes  is  their  more  valuable  beauty,  yet  are  they 
by  no  means  deftitute  of  poetical  merit. 

Thatgenerofity  of  foul,  which  ever  accompanies  true 
genius,  has  induced  the  poets  and  philofophers,  of  all 
ages,  to  ftand  forth  in  thecaufe  of  liberty.  Alcseus,  of 
whofe  merits  from  uie  monuments  of  antiquity  we  may 
form  the  moft  exalted  idea,  firil  raifed  himfelf  to  emi- 
nence by  a  poem,  intitule  j  Stafiotica,  a  violent  inveftive 
againft  Pittncus,  at  that  time  the  tyrant  of  Athens.  It  has 
not  eftaped  the  general  wreck,  and  we  have  only  a  few 
broken  fpecimens  of  this  celebrated  writer's  works  pre- 
fcrved  by  the  nntient  grammarians.  We  mult,  therefore, 
be  content  to  learn  his  character  from  the  judicious 
Quin&ilian,  and  the  learned  Dionyfius  of  Halicarnaflus : 
the  former  of  whom  aflerts,  that  he  was  concife,  fublime, 
accurate,  and  in  many  refpefts  refembled  Homer ;  the 
latter,  that  he  had  a  grandeur,  brevity,  and  fweetnefs, 
equally  blended  throughout  all  his  compofuions. 

Stefichorus,  according  to  Quintilian,  was  remarkable 
for  ftrength  of  genius.  He  gave  to  lyric  poetry,  all  the 
folemnity  of.  the  Fpopcea.  Had  he  known  how  to  re- 
ftrain  the  impetuofity  of  his  genius,  it  is  faid,  he  would 
have  rivalled  Homer  :  but  unfortunately,  the  noble 
warmth  of  his  temper  urged  him  beyond  the  bounds  of 
juft  writing,  and  he  Teems  to  have  failed  of  excellence 
by  a  redundancy  of  beauties. 

4  The 


382  ESSAY     S,  No.  178. 

The  fragments  of  Menander  are  fufficiently  excellent 
to  induce  every  votary  of  learning  to  regret  the  lofs  of 
his  works.  Some  indeed  have  thought,  that  time  never 
gave  a  greater  blow  to  polite  literature,  than  in  the  de- 
flruftion  of  the  Comedies  of  Menander  :  but  as  Terence 
has  preferved  his  fpirit  and  his  ftyle,  perhaps  the  want  of 
the  original  is  compensated  by  the  exaft  copyings  of  that 
elegant  author.  Quinailian,  from  whofe  judgment  there 
is  fcarcely  an  appeal,  has  reprefented  Menander  as  alone 
fufficient  to  form  our  tafte  and  ftyle.  The  few  remains, 
preferved  by  Stobjeus,  whether  the  beauty  of  the  fenti- 
ments,  or  the  purity  of  the  diction,  be  regarded,  mufl 
be  pronounced  uncommonly  excellent.  They  are,  how- 
ever, too  generally  known  to  require  illuftracion. 

Simonides  is  characlerifed  by  Longinus,  as  a  poet  re- 
markable for  the  pathetic.  Of  his  writings,  very  few 
have  furvived  the  injuries  of  time.  The  little  poem  on 
Danae,  is,  however,  fufficient  to  juftify  the  judgment 
of  Longinus.  Nothing  can  be  more  delicately  tender, 
or  more  exquifitely  pathetic.  There  is  fomething  inex- 
preffibly  pleafmg  to  the  mind,  in  the  reprefentation  of  a 
mother  addreffing  a  ileeping  infant,  unconicious  of  its 
danger,  with  all  the  endearing  biandiihaients  of  mater- 
nal fondnefs. 

The  other  remarkable  poem  of  this  author,  which  time 
has  fpared,  is  of  a  very  different  kind.  It  is  a  Satire  on 
Women,  and  is  well  known  by  aprofaic  tranflation  of  it, 
inferted  in  the  Effays  of  a  celebrated  modern  writer. 

Alcman  of  Laconia  is  another  melancholy  inftance  of 
the  depredations  which  the  hand  of  time  has  made  on 
the  moll  valuable  works  of  antiquity.  Of  this  author, 
once  celebrated  throughout  Greece,  quoted  by  the 
learned,  and  repeated  by  the  fair,  fcarcely  the  name  is 
known  in  the  prefent  age.  Athensus,  Hephaeftion,  the 
fcholiaft  on  Pindar,  Euftathius,  and  Plutarch,  have  vin- 
dicated him  from  abfolute  oblivion,  by  preferving  a  few 
of  his  fragments.  Love  verfes,  which  fince  his  time  have 
employed  fome  of  the  greateft  writers,  and  have  been  ad- 
mired by  the  mcft  fen fible  readers,  were  of  his  invention. 
All  who  preceded  him  had  mvariably  written  in  Hexame- 
ter. He  fuojoined  the  elegiac  verfe,  and  may  juftly  claim 
the  honour  of  having  invented  that  fpecies  of  poetry, 

which 


No.  178.  MORA  L,    Sec.  3^3 

\vhi,h  Ovid  and  the  other  Latin  elegiac  writers  have  fince 
ad,  'need  to  a  moft  pleafing  fpecies  of  compofition. 

Arohilo.hus  wrote  iambics  and  elegiacs  j  the  former, 
fatiri  :aj  ;  the  lattt-r,  amorous.  That  he  iucceeded  in  his 
a.tciiif-ti,  \ve  have  Sufficient  reafon  to  conclude  from  the 
teftimonies  of  the  greatelt  critics  of  antiquity,  Horace 
anu  Lo.g.sius.  '1  here  is  not  enough  of  him  rernui-.ing, 
to  enable  us  to  form  a  judgment  of  the  impartiality  of 
their  decilj^n,  and  we  rnuft  be  contented  to  acquiefce  in 
their  authority.. 

Lucian.  lays,  in  one  of  his  Dialogues,  that  the  poets 
have  given  Jupiter  .  any  of  his  moil  pompous  epithets, 
merely  for  the  fake  of  a  fonbrous  word  to  fill  up  a  verfe. 
The  hymns  of  Orpheus  abound  with  thefe  expletives; 
and  the  reader  is  often  difgulK'd  with  founding  verfe  al- 
moll  deititute  of  fenfe.*  If,  however,  they  were  compofed 
for  mufic,  they  may  pafs  uncenfured  bv  fooie :  for  it  leems 
to  have  been  generally  and  moil  abfurdly  agreed,  and  it 
is  obfervable  at  this  day,  that  very  little  attention  is  to  be 
paid  to  the  words  of  Operas,  Odes,  and  Songs,  which 
are  written  merely  for  mufic.  The  poems  of  Orpheus, 
if  thofe  which  are  extant  are  like  all  his  productions, 
would  certainly  move  no  ftones.  What  has  been  faid  of 
the  hymns  of  this  poet,  may  be  extended  to  many  other 
Greek  compofitions  of  the  fame  fpecies.  General  cen- 
fure  will,  however,  feldom  be  juit,  and  it  mufi  be  con- 
feiled,  that  there  are  fome  among  them,  particularly 
thofe  of  Callimaciius,  truly  fublime  and  beautiful. 

There  was  a  fpecies  of  poetry  among  the  Athenians, 
which,  in  fome  meafure,  refembled  many  of  our  ling- 
li(h  ballads.  At  the  approach  of  a  war,  or  after  a  vic- 
tory or  defeat,  the  poets  andJtatefmen  ufually  difperfed. 
among  the  people  fome  fhort  compofmon,  which  tend- 
ed to  animate  them  with  courage,  or  to  infpire  them  with 
joy.  Solon,  the  wife  legiflaior  of  Athens,  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  power  of  poetry  over  the  human 
heart,  to  negleft  this  efficacious  method  of  enforcing  his 
laws,  and  propngatin.;  his  inihtutions  among  the  lower 
ranks  of  the  Athenians.  There  are  ftill  extant  fome  of 
hrs  pieces,  which  bear  internal  marks  of  having  been 
purpofely  written  to  give  the  people  a  pafiion  for  hberty, 
to  inipirc  them  with  a  love  of  virtue,  and  to  teach  them 

obe. 


3^4  ESSAYS,  No,  17$. 

obedience  to  the  laws.  They  are,  indeed,  written  in  the 
elegiac  meafure,  but  have  nothing  of  the  foft  amorous 
firain  which  diftinguifhes  the  Ovidian  elegy.  They  are 
manly,  moral,  and  fevere.  By  thefe,  it  is  a  well  known 
fact,  the  Athenians  were  animated  to  refume  a  war  which 
they  had  dropt  in  defpair  ;  and  in  confequence  of  the  ar- 
dour which  thefe  infpired,  they  obtained  a  complete  vic- 
tory over  their  enemies. 

Tyrtasus  wrote  in  a  fimilar  ftyle,  but  entirely  confined 
himfelf  to  martial  fubjects.  So  ftrongly  is  military  va- 
lour, and  the  love  of  liberty  enforced  in  his  little  com- 
pofitions,  that  it  would  by  no  means  be  abfurd  to  at- 
tribute the  victories  of  the  Grecians  over  the  Persians, 
as  much  to  a  Tyrtaeus,  as  to  a  Miltiades  or  Themif- 
tocles.  The  effects  of  fuch  political  ballads  have  been 
frequently  feen  among  the  Englifh  in  a  time  of  a  war. 
Every  one  has  heard  of  Lillabullero. — Many  a  poor  fel- 
low has  been  tempted  to  quit  the  plough  and  the  loom  for 
the  fword,  on  hearing  a  fong  in  praife  of  Hawke  or  Wolfe 
roared  by  his  obitreperous  companions.  Thefe  verfes  are 
too  deficient  in  point  of  elegance  to  admit  of  quotations, 
and  the  frequent  opportunities  of  hearing  them  from  the 
mouths  of  the  vulgar,  render  repetition  in  this  place  un- 
neceflary.  The  bards  of  Grub-itreet  are  commonly  the 
authors  of  our  martial  ballads  ;  but  at  Athens  they  were 
written  by  poets,  ftatefmen,  andphilofophers.  We  may 
judgeof  the  influence  of  their  productions,  by  the  power- 
ful effect  of  our  rude  and  even  nonfenfical  rhymes. 

Few  antient  authors  have  been  lefs  read  than  Ly- 
cophron.  His  obfcurity  not  only  retards,  but  difgults 
the  reader;  yet,  perhaps,  his  want  of  perfpictiity,  though 
highly  difagreeable  to  the  ^udent,  is  an  excellence  in  a 
work  confifting  of  predictions.  Prophecies  and  oracles 
have  ever  been  purpofely  obfcure,  and  almoft  unintel* 
ligible.  The  mind  that  attends  to  thefe  uninfpired  pre- 
dictions of  paganifm,  voluntarily  renounces  reafon,  and 
believes  the  more  as  it  underftands  the  lefs  ;  but  whether 
Lycophron  is  to  be  praifed  or  cenfured  for  obfcurity, 
certain  it  is,  that  on  this  account  he  will  never  become 
a  favourite  author.  Notwithftanding  the  labours  of  the 
great  Potter,  he  is  ftiil  difficult,  and  will  probably  con- 
tinue to  repofe  in  duft  and  darkneis,  amidil  the  dull  col- 
lections of  antiquated  mufeums. 

The 


No.  178.  MORAL,    &c.  385 

The  poems  of  Bacchylides,  however  he  is  neglefted 
by  the  moderns,  were  highly  honoured  by  an  ancient, 
who  was  efteemed  a  complete  judge  of  literary  merit. 
Hiero  hefitated  not  to  pronounce  them  fuperior  to  the 
odes  of  Pindar,  which  have  been  generally  celebrated 
as  the  utmoft  efforts  of  human  genius.  The  opinion  of 
Hiero  may,  however,  beqnefHoned  with  an  appearance 
of  juftice,  when  it  is  confidered,  that  his  cha rafter,  as 
a  critic,  was  eftablifhed  by  his  courtiers,  who,  to  gaia 
his  favour,  might  not  fcruple  to  violate  the  truth. 

The  gay,  the  fprightly,  the  voluptuous  Anacreon  Is 
known  to  every  reader.  His  fubjedls,  and  his  manner 
of  treating  them,  have  captivated  all  who  are  fufceptible 
either  of  pleafure  or  of  poetry.  There  is,  indeed,  an 
exquifue  tendernefs,  delicacy,  and  tafte  in  the  fenti- 
ments ;  but  1  have  always  thought  he  derived  no  fmall 
mare  of  his  beauty  from  the  choice  of  expreffions,  and 
the  peculiar  harmony  of  his  verfes.  It  has  been  objecled 
to  him  by  rigid  moralifts,  that  his  writings  tend  to  pro- 
mote drunkennefs  and  debauchery.  But  this  objection 
might  in  fome  degree  be  extended  to  a  great  part  of  the 
fin  eft  writers,  ancient  and  modern.  A  man  of  fenfe  and 
judgment  will  admire  the  beauties  of  a  composition, 
without  fuffering  its  fentiments  to  influence  his  prin- 
ciples or  his  conduft.  He  will  look  upon  the  more  li- 
centious fallies  of  Anacreontic  writers,  as  little  jeux 
d^efprit  defigned  to  pleafe  in  the  hour  of  convivial  fefti- 
vity,  but  not  to  regulate  his  thoughts  and  adlions  in  the 
ferious  concerns  of  life.  Whatever  may  be  the  moral 
tendency  of  his  writings,  it  is  certain  that  as  a  poet  he 
is  unrivalled  in  that  fpecies  of  compofition  which  he 
adopted.  Many  have  been  the  imitations  of  him,  but 
few  have  fucceeded.  The  joys  of  love  and  wine  have 
indeed  been  defcribed  by  his  followers,  but  their  touches 
are  more  like  the  dawbings  of  an  unflcilful  painter,  than, 
the  exquifue  traits  of  a  m-iftcrly  hand.  •  Cowley,  whofe 
genius  certainly  partook  more  of  the  Anacreontic  than  of 
the  Pindaric,  has  been  one  of  his  happieft  imitators,  for 
he  is  rather  to  be  called  an  imitator  than  a  tranflator  :  but 
the  Englifh  reader  will  not  form  a  juil  idea  of  the  merits 
of  Anacreon,  from  thofe  Bacchanalian  fongs  which  fo 
frequently  appear  under  the  title  of  Anacreontic. 

VOL,  II.  S  The 


386  ESSAYS,  No.  178. 

The  pafilon  of  love  was  never  moreflrongly  felt  or  de- 
fcribed  than  by  the  fenfible  Sappho.  The  little  Greek 
ode,  preferved  by  Longinus,  the  metre  of  which  derives 
its  name  for  her,  has  been  tranflated  by  Mr.  Phillips 
with  all  the  air  of  an  original.  The  Latin  tranflation  of 
Catullus  appears  much  inferior  to  that  of  our  country- 
man. The  Greek  indeed  is  much  corrupted,  and,  as  it 
now  Hands,  is  leis  pleating  than  the  Englifh.  Every 
one,  who  on  reading  it  recollects  its  occafion,  muft  la- 
ment that  fo  warm  a  paftion,  fo  feelingly  reprefented, 
was  excited  by  an  improper  objedl. 

Scaliger,  whofe  judgment,  though  fometimes  called 
in  queition,  ought  certainly  to  have  great  weight,  be- 
llowed very  extraordinary  praifes  on  the  writings  of  Op- 
pian  ;  a  poet,  who,  though  he  has  been  compared  to 
Virgil  in  his  Georgics,  is  only  perufed  by  the  curious  in 
Grecian  literature,  and  is  known  only  by  name  to  the 
common  reader.  The  emperor  Caracalla,  under  whom  he 
fiourifhed,  is  faid  to  have  been  fo  charmed  with  his  poems, 
as  to  have  ordered  him  a  (later  for  each  verfe.  IVJodern 
critics  will,  however,  dare  to  call  in  queftion  the  taile  of 
Caracalla.  The  works  of  Uppian  confifted  of  halieutics, 
cynogetics,  and  ixeutics,  the  latter  of  which  have  perifhed 
by  the  injuries  of  time.  He  was  a  grammarian,  which, 
in  the  idea  of  the  Greeks,  meant  a  profefled  fcholar ; 
and  in  every  age,  the  poems  of  men,  who  profefled  li- 
terature, have  been  lei's  admired  than  the  vigorous  and 
wild  productions  of  uncultivated  genius.  The  furmer 
are  contented  to  avoid  faults,  bin  genius  labours  after 
beauties  only.  Apollonius  is  more  correft  than  Homer, 
and  Johnfon  than  Shakefpeare  ;  but  Appollonios  and 
Johnfon  are  coldly  approved,  while  Homer  and  Shake- 
fpeare are  beheld  with  aftonifnment  almofl  equal  to 
idolatry.  It  fhould  however  be  remarked  to  the  honour 
of  Apollonius,  that  the  judicious  Virgil  borrowed  feveral 
of  his  moft  celebrated  fimilies  from  him,  and  perhaps  he 
is  not  to  be  ranked  among  the  poet<e  Minors*.  Oppian 
has  met  with  the  ufual  fate  of  grammarians,  and  has 
fcarely  been  read  ;  but  the  reader  of  tafte  will  yet  find 
many  pafiages,  which,  if  they  are  not  fublime,  he  muft 
confefs  to  be  beautiful. 

Tryphiodcrus  has    been    introduced    to   the   Englifti 
leader,  by  the  excellent  translation  of  the  ingenious  Mr. 

Merrick. 


No.  179.  MORAL,     &c.  387 

Merrick.  Homer  he  certainly  imitated,  and  has  fuc- 
ceecled  in  the  imitation.  Copies  taken  by  great  matters, 
though  inferior  in  general,  yet  in  fome  parts  commonly 
rival  their  originals.  Tryphiodorus  reaches  not  the  fab- 
limer  flights  of  the  M?jonian  bard,  but  he  fometimes 
follows  his  lefs  daring  excursions  at  no  diitant  interval. 
It  is  enough  to  recommend  him  to  general  approbation, 
that  with  a  moderate  portion  of  Homer's  fire,  he  has  more 
correclnefs.  He  may  be  read  with  advantage  not  only 
in  a  poetical,  but  in  an  hiltorical  view.  Where  Homer 
difcontinued  the  thread  of  his  ftory,  Tryphiodorus  has 
taken  it  up.  Indeed  this  poem  is  a  necefi'ary  fupplement 
to  the  Iliad,  without  which  the  reader  is  left  unfatisiied. 
Tryphiodorus  is  Add  to  have  written  another  poem,  cal- 
led' OaW™*  A£io-,>^a/x,,u.a''r,  in  which  he  has  omitted, 
through  each  book,  the  letter  which  marked  the  num- 
ber of  it.  Such  a  kind  of  compofuion  is  trifling,  .and 
beneath  a  man  of  genius;  but  it  muft  be  allowed  to  be  a 
•work  of  great  difficulty,  and  confequently  a  proof  of 
great  applicatio  <.  Nor  ought  it  to  injure  the  character 
of  Tryphiodorus  as  a  poet,  but  to  be  viewed  as  the  wan- 
ton production  of  an  ingenious,  but  ill-employed  gram- 
marian. If  Homer  wrote  the  battle  of  the  Frogs  and 
Mice,  and  Virgil  dcfcanted  on  his  Gnat,  without  lo- 
fmg  the  dignity  of  their  characters  ;  inferior  writers  may 
indulge  the  inoffenfive  fallies  of  whim,  without  the  im- 
putation of  folly  or  puerility. 

In  the  peruial  of  fome  of  thefe,  and  other  cf  the 
Minor  Poets,  whofe  works  are  extant,  the  lover  of  the 
Grecian  Mufe  finds  a  pleating  variety,  after  reading  the 
more  iublime  and  beautiful  produdlionscf  Homer. 


No.   CLXXIX.     A    CONCLUDING    ESSAY. 


Til  E  writers  of  periodical  papers  have  ufually  fub- 
joined,  at  the  clofe  of  their  lucubrations,  an  ac- 
count of  the  origin  and  progrefs  of  their  work,  explained 
the  fignatures  of  correfpondents,  and  afligned  each  paper 
to  its  proper  claimant.  — 1  am  now  arrived  at  the  End  of 
S  2  the 


383  ESSAYS,  No.  179. 

the  Second  Volume,  the  boundary  prefcribed  to  my  ex- 
curfions  :'  but  1  have,  1  believe,  no  information  of  this 
kind  remaining  to  be  communicated.  I  have  already  ac- 
counted for  the  origin  of  this  work,  and  intimated,  that 
the  compofition  of  it  has  ferved,  at  various  times  and 
an  different  filiations,  to  amufe  a  few  intervals  of  lite- 
rary leifure ;  and,  with  refpedl  to  afiiftants  and  corre- 
fpondents,  the  nature  cf  the  undertaking  could  not  poffi- 
bly  admit  them.  If,  therefore,  any  praife  fhould  be 
thought  due,  it  muft  come  undivided,  and  contribute  to 
Jeflen  whatever  feverity  of  cenfure  may  be  incurred,  the 
whole  weight  of  which  muft  fall  without  participation. 

1  mean  not,  however,  to  delude  myfelf  with  an  idea 
of  influencing  a  reader  by  apologies:  the  fubmiffions 
and  excufes  of  authors  are  of  little  importance  ;  the 
Public  claims  an  uncontrovertible  right  to  decide  for 
itfelf  on  every  compofition  which  /elicits  regard  :  its 
final  decificns  are  ufually  no  lefs  juft  than  immutable. 

Inftead  then  of  dwelling  on  fuch  topics,  I  will  take 
leave  of. the  candid  reader,  if  any  reader  mould  have  had 
pstience  to  accompany  me  fo  far,  by  a  fummary  recapitu- 
lation, and  perhaps  addition  of  a  few  admonitions  which 
jnay  be  falutary.  I  pretend  not  to  collect  all  the  fcat- 
tered  remarks,  which  have  preceded,  into  one  point  of 
view,  but  merely  to  repeat  and  add  fuch  as  may  poflibly 
occur  in  filling  up  the  paper  which  now  lies  before  me. 
I  hope  the  egotifm  will  be  pardoned  on  this  and  feveral 
other  occafions,  as  it  is  by  no  means  eafy  at  all  times  to 
fpeak  in  the  third  perfon  of  one's  felf,  without  evident 
affectation. 

I  have  endeavoured,  thoughout  the  whole  feries  of 
thefe  papers,  to  warn  thofe  who  are  entering  into  life 
(and  to  them  my  admonitions  are  chiefly  addreffed) 
againft  the  fafhionable  examples  of  the  rich  and  great 
•vulgar,  which  often  militate  againft  all  that  is  decent, 
regular,  virtuous  and  learned.  Unlefs  we  are  taught  in 
cur  youth  to  be  on  our  guard  againft  their  deftruclive 
influence,  we  fhall  certainly  incur  imminent  danger  of 
corrupting  our  principles  and  practice,  by  a  blind  and 
bigoted  imitation.  Experience  daily  evinces,  that 
without  this  precaution,  all  the  advantages  of  a  virtu- 
ous and  learned  education,  all  the  documents  of  pater- 
nal 


No.  179.  MORAL,    Sec.  389 

nal  care,  all  prudential,  moral,  and  religious  reftraints, 
may  be  totally  fruftrated.  The  rich  and  great  may  be 
considered  as  beacons  on  a  promontory  ;  and  if  they 
hang  out  deceitful  lights,  they  who  will  allow  no  other 
fignal  to  direft  them  (and  the  number  of  thefe  is  infi- 
nite), will  probably  be  mifguided  in  the  voyage  of  their 
lives,  till  they  are  dafhed  on  rocks,  or  funk  in  whirlpools. 
I  think  I  can  confidently  declare,  that  I  was  not  in- 
fluenced by  fplenetic  or  envious  motives,  when  I  attack- 
ed the  Pride,  Folly,  and  Wickednefs  of  the  nom  nal  great, 
whojuftify  every  enormity,  under  the  name  of  fafhion- 
able  indulgence  ;  but  that  I  have  been  actuated  folely  by 
a  fincere  conviclion,  that  fuch  an  attack  is  the  moil  ef- 
fedlual  means  of  promoting  the  interells  of  Virtue.  Even 
an  enemy  will  allow  that  it  is  not  the  moft  approved  me- 
thod of  advancing  private  intereft. 

If  I  have  at  any  time  indulged  an  afperity  of  cenfure, 
it  has  arifen  from  an  honeft  detection  of  vice,  meannefs, 
felfilhnefs,  and  infolence,  in  thofe  whofe  example  is  fe- 
ducing,  and  confequently  moft  injurious.  The  rank  and 
opulence  of  worthlefs  perfons  has  had  no  other  effect  on 
me  than  to  excite  additional  indignation.  If  any  fsel 
themfelves  hurt  by  my  animadverfions,  their  very  pain  is 
a  proof  that  they  fuffer  defervedly.  Nothing  in  this  book 
can  make  a  worthy  man  my  foe  ;  and  ivith  refpcft  to  the 
unworthy,  I  fear  not  their  power,  and  I  defpife  their 
malevolence. 

In  adopting  modes  of  addrefs  and  external  behavioar,the 
ftudy  of  which  appears  to  engrofs  the  attention  of  many, 
I  have  advifed  the  young  man  to  begin  his  work  at  the 
foundation  ;  to  corrcft  his  heart  and  temper,  that  the 
graces  of  his  appearance  may  proceed  from  that  copious 
and  infallible  fource  of  whatever  is  plea/Ing,  a  difpoiuion 
truly  virtuous  and  unaffeftedly  amiable.  I  have  exhort- 
ed him  to  avoid  fervility,  adulation, preferment-hunting, 
and  meannefs  of  every  kind  ;  to  endeavour  indeed  to 
pleafe  thofe  with  whom  he  converfes,  but  to  let  the  en- 
deavour arife  from  benevolent  motives,  from  an  humane 
and  ChrilHan  dciire  of  difftifing  cafe  and  happinefs 
among  the  children  of  one  Almighty  Father,  and  the 
partakers  of  the  fame  miserable  nature.  I  have  advifed 
him  to  be  firm,  yet  gentle,  — manly,  yet  polite  :  to  cul- 
S  3 


39°  ESSAYS,  No.  179. 

tivate  every  ornamental  accomplifhment  which  leads  not 
to  effeminacy,  and  to  ftudy  to  be  as  agreeable  as  poflible, 
while  he  can  be  at  the  fame  time  fin  cere ;  to  defpiie, 
and  molt  ftudioufly  avoid,  that  common  but  bafe  cha- 
rafter,  which,  with  motives  peculiarly  felfifh  and  con- 
traded,  pretends  to  uncommon  good- nature,  friendfhip, 
benevolence,  and  generofity ;  whofe  afliduities  are  pro- 
portioned to  the  rank  or  fortune  of  the  perfons  whofe 
favour  is  courted,  without  the  leaft  regard  to  virtue  or 
attainments  ;  whofe  politenefs  is  that  of  a  valet  or  French 
dancing-mafter,  and  whofe  objects,  after  all  its  profef- 
fions  andpretenfions  to  liberality,  are  no  lefs  mean  and 
dirty  than  thofe  of  a  Jew-ufurer.  I  have  advifed  him 
to  value  the  approbation  of  his  own  heart,  and  the  com- 
forts of  a  clear  confcience,  above  the  fmiles,  the  applaufe, 
and  the  rewards  of  a  vain,  a  wicked,  a  deceitful,  and  a 
tranfitory  world. 

In  literature,  I  have  recommended  the  union  of  tafte 
with  fcience,  and  of  fcience  with  tafte ;  a  feleftion  of 
the  bell  authors  on  all  the  fubjedls-  which  claim  his  par- 
ticular attention  ;  a  love  of  originals,  and  a  due  diftruft 
of  translations;  a  conftant  effort  to  obtain  depth  and 
folidity  ;  a  perfevering,  regular,  indefatigable  induftry, 
efpecially  in  the  earlier  periods  of  a  ftudious  courfe, 
not  only  becaufe  no  ciftinguifhed  excellence  can  be  ob- 
tained without  it,  but  alfo  becaufe  a  clofe  attention  to 
ftudy,  and  an  ardent  love  of  letters  in  the  juvenile  age, 
is  a  great  prefervative  of  innocence,  and  conduces  much 
to  thediverfion  or  extinction  of  paffior.s,  and  tendencies, 
which  cannot  be  habitually  indulged  without  fin,  fhame, 
and  mifery. 

The  general  tenor  of  the  moral  admonitions  of  this 
book,  has  been  to  urge  the  young  man  to  labour  incef- 
fantly  in  overcoming  the  natural  propenfity  of  human 
nature  to  evil  :  to  aim  at  perfection,  though  he  knows 
he  cannot  reach  it ;  to  aim  at  it,  becaufe  he  will  thus 
approach  much  nearer  to  it  than  if  he  gives  ep  the  pur- 
fuit  in  the  timidity  of  indolence :  to  hav:e  courage 
enough  to  withftand  ridicule,  the  weapon  of  the  wicked 
in  their  fubtle  attacks  upon  virtue  :  to  beware  of  the 
refinements  of  fophiftry,  and  to  be  humble  enough  to 
learn  his  duty  both  to  God  and  man,  from  the  plain 

doctrines 


No.  179.  MORAL,    &c.  391 

doftrines  of  his  catechifm  :  to  beware  alfo  of  the  feducing 
influence  of  famionable  vice  ;  of  thofe  unfortunate  per- 
fons  who,  from  a  want  of  education,  or  from  foolifh. 
pride,  live  without  Goal  in  the  <world,  and  even  in  con- 
tradiction to  the  obvious  precepts  of  natural  religion  ; 
cxilting  in  a  ftate  which  might  almoft  be  called  the  vege- 
table, if  it  did  not  in  a  greater  degree  participate  of  bru- 
tality.—Addrefles  of  a  ferious  kind  are  to  them,  for  the 
molt  part,  ufelefs,  as  that  pride,  felf-conceit,  and  felf- 
importance,  which  leads  them  to  adopt  with  oftentation 
the  tenets  of  infidelity  and  the  pra&ices  of  immorality, 
ufually  renders  them  deaf  and  blind  to  allreprefentations 
which  come  unrecommended  by  opulence,  rank,  and  libertiit- 
ifm.  They  are  wifer  in  their  own  eyes,  though  they  often 
neither  read  nor  think,  than  the  wifeit  moralifts  who  have 
yet  appeared.  But  the  young  man  who  has  been  taught 
not  to  be  dazzled  by  the  falfe  lullre  of  their  characters, 
will  foon  learn  to  pity  thtir  errors  and  ftiun  their  ex- 
ample. It  is  a  jufl  remark,  which  has  been  made  by 
men  intimately  acquainted  with  the  living  world,  that 
more  are  ruined  by  vices  which  they  have  adopted 
through  vanity  and  filly  imitation,  than  to  which  they 
have  been  feduced  by  the  violence  of  paifion  and  tempt- 
ation. He  who  leflens  the  force  of  fuch  examples,  and 
oblcures  thofe  glofly  colours  which  they  derive  from  high 
ftaticns  and  large  fortunes,  greatly  promotes  the  caufe  of 
morality,  and  contributes  much  to  prevent  the  nuiery 
and  ruin  of  a  rifmg  generation. 

In  forming  political  principles,  I  would  uniformly 
maintain  the  expediency  of  always  leaning  to  the  fide  of 
liberty  and  the  people,  and  of  withftanding,  by  all  legal 
and  rational  means,  the  encroachments  of  power.  All 
men  who  poflefs  power,  well  eitablilhed  and  confirmed, 
are  naturally  inclined  to  extend  and  engrofs  it.  Let  a 
fpirit  then  be  conftantly  encouraged  among  the  people 
at  large,  which  may  lead  them  to  a  jealous  vigilance  over 
the  poflefibrs  of  power,  and  animate  them  to  a  manly  re- 
fiftance  on  the  flighteil  infringement  of  liberty.  But  at 
the  fame  time,  we  muft  not  luffer  the  artful  purfuers  of 
their  own  intereit  to  delude  us  by  a  name  enchanting  in 
the  found  :  we  are  bound  to  coniider,  in  our  difpaflion- 
ate  moments,  the  nature  of  liberty  j  to  fee  and  acknow- 
ledge 


393  ESSAY    S,  No.  179. 

ledge  the  neceffity  of  fubordination,  and  the  happinefs 
of  being  governed  by  the  equitable  operation  of  impar- 
tial laws ;  to  confider  the  prefervation  of  good  order  and 
public  tranquillity  as  greatly  conducive  to  the  perpetual 
tion  of  liberty,  when  it  is  once  eftablifhed  on  a  folid  ba- 
fis  :  to  dilHnguiih  between  a  real  love  of  liberty  and  a 
mere  impatience  of  controul,  which  is  found  to  prevail  in 
the  bofom  of  envious  and  malignant  men  :  to  difcern  the 
difference  between  real  patriotifm  and  a  felfifh  oppofi- 
tion  to  prefent  authority,  in  whomfoever  inverted,  ari- 
iing  from  a  hope  of  partaking  of  it  on  their  deprivation  : 
to  remember  tnat  experience  has  abundantly  confirmed 
the  remark,  that  the  loudeft  advocates  for  liberty,  while 
out  of  power,  are  often  the  moft  arbitrary  and  tyranni- 
cal, both  in  the  exercife  of  power,  when  they  have  ob- 
tained it,  and  in  their  private  lives  and  natural  difpofi- 
tions :  to  beware  of  the  needy  adventurer  in  politics, 
who  has  nothing  to  lofe,  and  has  no  profpedl  of  gain 
but  in  demoliihing  the  fabric  raifed  by  others,  and  en- 
riching himfelf  in  the  general  plunder.  Such  cautions 
can  never  be  too  frequently  repeated  to  th«  middle 
ranks,  who  have  been  too  frequently  deluded  by  the 
wicked  pretenfions  of  pfeudo-patriotilm. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  evince  the  propriety  of  ap- 
pointing men  of  private  virtue  and  good  character  to  the 
great,  honourable,  and  efficient  offices  in  the  vnrious 
departments  of  the  ftate.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  but 
that  the  accumulation  of  public  honours  and  emolu- 
ments on  profefied  infidels,  on  notorious  gameilers,  and 
on  infamous  debauchees,  is  at  once  deftruftive  of  mora- 
lity, religion,  and  national  profperity.  If,  for  inftance, 
it  ihould  ever  happen,  that  a  Chancellor  of  Great  Bri- 
tain, whofe  office  is  peculiarly  facred,  who  has  the  dif- 
pofal  of  church  preferment,  and  whofe  life  ought  to  have 
been  free  from  infamous  enormities,  and  whofe  character, 
no  lefs  unimpeached  than  that  of  an  archbifhop,  ihould 
be  rtigmatized  as'  a  feducer  of  innocence,  fhould  live  in  a 
ftate  of  concubinage  at  the  time  in  which  he  holds  his 
venerable  office,  and  evidently  mew,  by  the  powerful  tef- 
timony  of  his  o-ivn  condufi,  a  contempt  for  that  union  of 
the  fexes  which  the  laws  of  his  country,  and  of  his  God, 
have  infiituted  ;  would  it  not  be  fuch  an  infult  on  virtue, 

religion, 


No.  179.  MORA  L,    &c.  393 

religion,  decency,  and  equity,  as  all,  whofe  feelings  are 
not  dellroyed  by  diflipation,  mult  deeply  deplore  and  re- 
fent  ! — Could  upftart  infolence,  a  brow-beating  audaci- 
ty, and  a  dogmatical  mode  df  decifion,  in  the  fenate 
and  at  the  tribunal,  compenfate  the  injuries  which  fuch 
an  example  muft  inflid,  not  only  on  the  morals  of  a  tin- 
gle profeflion  already  too  licentious,  but  of  the  commu- 
nity in  all  its  ramifications  ?  The  promotion  of  notorious 
gameiters,  infidels,  and  debauchees,  to  high  offices  of  truft 
and  honour;  of  men  publicly  known  for  the  enormous 
profligacy  of  their  private  lives,  argues  a  want  of  fince- 
rity  in  governors,  and  eventually  tends,  more  than  any- 
foreign  enemy,  to  (hake  their  thrones  from  under  them. 
Such  appointments  counteract,  in  the  mind-  of  the  majo- 
rity of  a  people,  all  the  precepts  of  religion  and  mo- 
rality. Refinance,  indeed,  under  governors  who  aft, 
in  their  appointment  of  minifters  and  officers,  as  if  they 
considered  the  national  religion  merely  as  a  mode  of  fu- 
perftition,  and  morality  as  a  bafelefs  fabric  of  fancy  or 
policy,  and  who  yet  aflume  the  management  of  the 
church  as  well  as  of  the  ftate,  and  claim  the  title  of  De- 
fenders of  the  Faith,  becomes  virtue  inftead  of  treafon, 
and  patriotifm  inftead  of  rebellion.  He  who  militates 
by  all  legal  means  againft  fuch  men,  engages  in  a  ra- 
tional and  an  honourable  croifade.  No  Turk  was  ever 
a  greater  enemy  to  the  religion  of  Jefus  Chrift,  than  fuch 
moft  facred  and  mnj}  Cbrijiian  Governors. 

It  is  certainly  right  to  difbelieve  and  to  reprobate  all 
pretenfions  to  public  virtue,  wherever  private  virtue  is 
aotorioiijly  deficient.  Where  private  virtue  is  wanting, 
there  can  be  no  foundnefs  of  principle,  and,  without 
foundnefs  of  principle,  no  real  virtue  of  any  kind  can 
fubfift.  Patriotifm  in  a  bad  man  is  but  difguifed  wick- 
ednefs,  of  a  molt  malignant  nature,  and  ufually  pro- 
ceeding from  a  deceitful,  a  proud,  an  envious,  a  jealous, 
a  cruel,  and  a  felfifli  difpofition.  The  boafted  abilities 
of  profligate  and  corrupt  charaflers,  are  often  but  the 
defperate  efforts  of  a  diilrefs  which  has  overcome  all 
diffidence  and  restraint,  and  leads  men  to  fight  their 
way  to  promotion,  by  noife,  effrontery,  and  overbear- 
ing prefumption. 

We 


39  f  ESSAYS,  No.  179. 

We  all,  indeed,  Jove  power,  and  it  is  an  ufeful  im- 
ptilfe  which  urges  us  to  afpire  at  eminence;  but  though 
we  may  reafonably  vvifh  for  a  (hare  of  power,  let  us  learn 
tie  virtue  not  to  obitruct  its  falutary  operation  in  the 
hands  of  others,  merely  becaufe  it  is  not  in  our  own. 
The  true/t  patriotifm  may  often  be  evinced,  by  fubduing 
the  lull  of  power,  by  fubmilHve  filcnce,  and  by  cheerful 
acquiefcence,  in  a  contented  retirement,  and  in  an  hum- 
ble exercife  of  the  private  and  focial  virtues.  The  luft 
of  power,  like  all  other  luft,  is  often  moft  violent  in 
diabolical  difpolltions,  and  the  turbulent  fpirit  which  it 
produces  is  the  bane  of  fociety. 

But  amidA  our  cautions,  we  mall  do  well  conftantly 
to  remember  that  liberty,  with  all  its  attendant  evils  of 
faction  and  fedition,  is,  upon  the  whole,  infinitely  more 
conducive  to  the  happinefs  and  to  the  improvement  of 
human  nature,  than  the  tranquil  repofe  of  eftablifhed 
defpotifm.  An  arbitrary  government  diffufes  a  be- 
numbing, freezing,  foporinc  influence  over  the  human 
faculties,  efpecially  in  the  middle  and  loweft  walks  of 
life ;  and  th.re  is  no  danger  or  inconvenience  which, 
ought  not  to  be  cheerfully  incurred  to  deftroy  it  from, 
the  face  of  the  earth.  The  tree  of  liberty,  fo  well 
planted  and  watered  in  America,  will,  I  hope,  flourifli 
more  and  more ;  and  impart  many  a  flip  and  fucker  to 
grow  in  climates  which  now  appear  molt  ungenial  to  its 
cultivation.  In  our  own  ifland,  we  muft  never  neglect  the 
opportunity  afforded  by  a  time  of  diftrefs,  to  correct,  the 
abufes  of  the  conftitution,  and  to  pufh  back  the  gigantic 
ftrides  of  power,  with  its  auxiliary,  corruption.  Such  are 
the  aufpicious  periods,  the  golden  moments,  in  which  a 
portion  of  new  health  is  to  be  infufed  into  the  vitals  of 
the  body  politic  :  fuch  the  times  in  which  the  people 
themfelves  thought  to  amputate  excrefcences,  and  purge 
that  corrupting  influence  which  contains  the  feeds  of 
difeafe  and  death  to  a  free  commonwealth  ;  in  which  the 
right  of  election  mould  be  communicated  to  all  who  pay 
taxes  to  a  certain  amount,  petty  boroughs  disfranchifed, 
and  counties  enabled  to  fend  a  number  of  members  in 
proportion  to  their  fize,  wealth,  and  populoufnefs ;  in. 
which  Old  Sarum  mould  no  longer  be  permitted  to  con- 

ftitute 


No.  179.  MORAL,     Sec.  395 

ftitute  as  many  reprcfentativcs  of  the  people  of  England 
as  the  county  of  York,  and  hatf  as  many  as  the  metro- 
polis of  the  empiie.  But  as  all  great  political  changes 
are  attended  with  danger,  the  Bruifh  feoate  evinces  its 
wifdom  in  its  reluctance  to  introduce  them  without 
the  matured  deliberation. 

It  is  impoiiibie  to  recapitulate  all  the  variety  of  fug- 
geftions  which  have  preceded,  or  to  make  any  great  ad- 
dition to  them,  in  the  limits  of  a  fingle  paper  ;  neither 
was  it  my  original  intention.  It  is  fuffiaent  that  a  few 
of  the  molt  important  points  are  touched  upon  in  the 
conclufion  of  thefe  volumes,  with  a  view  to  leave  a  due 
impreflion  on  the  mind  of  the  reader,  who  may  be  in- 
duced, for  want  of  fomething  betttr,  to  beftow  an  idle 
hour  on  their  peiufal.  The  fubjects  of  Behaviour,  Let- 
ters, Morals,  and  Politic?,  have  been  already  mention- 
ed :  it  would  be  a  reprehenfible  omiiaon  not  to  have  re- 
ferved  a  place  for  a  few  hints  on  Religion. 

It  appears  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  moil  important  pre- 
cepts, in  forming  our  religious  principles  and  ideas,  not 
fully  to  depend  on  the  conclufions  of  our  own  reafon  ;  to 
diitruil  the  acuteit  undemanding  ;  to  be  really  humble  ; 
to  reverence  the  cpi  :ions  received  by  our  forefathers ;  to 
remember  the  fhortnefs  of  life,  the  imbecility  of  human 
nature,  and  to  accept  with  pious  hope,  rather  than  with 
difputatious  curioihy,  the  comfortable  doctrines  and  pro- 
rnifes  of  the  icceived  Revelation.     It  will  be  a  great  in- 
ducement to  this  prime  virtue  of  humility,  to  reflect  on 
the  difeafes  and  pains  both  of  mind  and  body  incident 
to  our  nature  ;  on  the  terrible  degeneracy  into  which  we 
may  fall,  when  defer  ed  by  the  grace  of  God  ;    and,  at 
the  fame  time,  on  the  confolation  and  improvement  of 
heart  which  may  be,  and  is  derived,  under  every  calamity 
and  on  the  bed  of  death,  from  (incere  devotion  ;  to  pray 
for  faith  when  doubts  arife;  to  beware  of  that  weak  and 
wicked  vanity  which  inlligates  the  deillical  and  fceptical 
pretenders  to  fuperior  powers  of  reafoning,  to  write  and 
publim  their  fophiftical  and  presumptuous  tenets  on  the 
national  religion.     Let  us  ever  remember  that  common, 
but  excellent  maxim,  that  we  can  loie  nothing  but  what 
would  hurt  us,  and  may  gain  every  thing  that  is  valu- 
i  able, 


396  ESSAY    S,  No.  1-9. 

ble,   by  receiving,  with  humble  hope,  the  religion  of 
Jefus  Chrift. 

Upon  the  whole,  and  after  all  the  fubtle  difquifitions 
of  proud  philofophy  ;  all  the  inventions  which  owe  their 
origin  to  malice,  vanity,  or  ingenuity  ;  all  the  whim- 
fical  modes  of  living  and  thinking  which  fafhion  dic- 
tates for  the  employment  of  her  idle  hoi'rs,  or  for  the 
gratification  of  her  full-blown  pride  ;  the  plain  virtues, 
as  they  are  underftood  by  plain  men  of honeft  hearts  and 
good  faculties,  improved  by  a  competent  education,  are 
the  beft  fecurity  for  comfort  under  all  the  circumftances, 
and  in  all  fituations  of  human  life.  Sedentary  and 
reclufe  perfons  may  amufe  themfelves,  in  the  reveries  of 
inactivity,  with  fpeculative  refinement  and  fceptical 
fubtleties  ;  but  they  who  are  really  wife,  and  earneltly 
wifh  to  obtain  all  the  happinefs  of  which  they  are  capa- 
ble in  this  fublunary  date,  muft  defcend  from  the  ele- 
vated regions  of  fophiftry,  and  labour  to  acquire,  with 
the  affiftance  of  common  fen fe  and  common  honefty,  the 
virtues  of  faith,  humility,  piety,  and  benevolence. — I 
am  happy  in  the  opportunity  of  adding  my  teftimony, 
inconfiderable  as  it  may  be  efteemed,  that  all  plans  of 
conduft,  and  profpe&s  of  happinefs,  independent  of 
thefe  virtues,  muft  terminate  in  vanity  and  vexation  ; 
and  that  thefe  mail  fupply  a  perennial  fountain  of  fuch 
confolation  as  the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away. 


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