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1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

pxDi^^q 


TnHLt/}t'd  Jan^.  l6,iyQO.  hy  JlFowrr  A'  I'o.  J^J'iii/j'  fhmrh  Jiird. 


THE 


i       B 


E       R 


B  y 


The  AUTHOR  of  the  RAMBLER. 
INTWO    VOLUMES. 


THE  FIFTH    EDITION. 


WITH 


ADDITIONAL    ESSAYS. 


VOLUME     IL 


«c 


Duplex  Hhelli  Co$  eft,  qnod  rifiim  move% 
*•  Et  quod  prudenti  vitam  confilio  monei." 

Pu^DRUt* 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Rivington  and  Sons,  and  F.  Power, 
in  St.PauPs  Church  Yard;  T-  Pavme  and  Son, 
Mews  Gate  j  T.  Cadell,  in  the  Strand  ; 
J.  Nichols,  Red  Lion  Paffage,  Fleet  -  Street  ,• 
and  S.  Hayes,  Oxford  Street. 

MDCCXC. 


W^m\     tnv,f<3V«^MH3T^AW3»4 


m»~mMm*%n 


■  «^*<ftj 


iWwiiiwatSif  URf  ¥&il9ii  i  T  LHHIPH^ 


C     O    N     T      EN      r     S 


G    P 


VOLUME  the  SECOND. 


N.' 


53.  JI4ISCHIEFS  of  good  Company, 

54.  ^^-^  Mrs,  Savecharces's  CotH' 
plaint^ 

5.5.  Aitihor's  Mortifications^ 
^6,  Virtuofos  whimficaly 

57.  Chara£ier  of  Soph  a  on  the  Prudent y 

58.  Expe^ations  sf  Pleafure  fruftrated^ 

59.  Books  fall  into  negle£fy, 
60..  Mvniu  the  Critick^ 

61.  Mis IM  the  Critick, 

62.  Rangfr's  Jccount  of  th  Vanity  of 

Riches, 

63.  Progre/s  of  Arts  and  Language^ 

64.  Ranger's  Complaint  concluded^ 

65.  Fate  of  Pojlhumous  Works, 
^^*  Lofs^^  of  ancient  Writings,, 

67.  Scholar's  Journal, 

68.  Hijiory  of  JranJIations,. 

69.  Hijioryof  Tranflations, 

70.  Hard  Words  defended, 

71.  Dick  Shifter's  rural  Excurjton^ 

72.  Regulation  of  Memory, 

J3*  TRAijqviL'sUfeofRicbesr 

74.  Memory  rarely  deficient, 

75.  Gelaleddin  ^Baflbra^' 

76.  /^tf^  Criticifms  on  Painting,. 

77.  Eafy. Writing, 

78.  Steady,  Snug,  Startle,  So- 

LID,  and  Misty, 
^91.  <?rtfiMf  6/y/p  2/-  Painting^. 


T 
1% 

17 

21 
26 

3^ 

4& 
Sa 

6e 
64 

7» 
75> 
79 
83 
9P 
94 
98 
ro2 

ro7 
ii« 

ii4 

122; 


N°8q- 


■*^ 


h 


C    O    N    T   E    N 


T    & 

N"  go.  Lattifs  Jourmy  ta  Londbn^  Page  n& 
oi.  Indian's  Spetcb  to  his  Ceuntrymtn,  i  qk 
Sa.  T64  trui  idta  of  Beauty,  1%^ 

^3.  Scruple,  Wormwood^  Stur- 

DY,   andGElS^TLE,  14-1 

»4,  Biography  how  beji  performed^  145 

»5.  Boohmuhiptiedhy-afriifs  Compilattom^  149 
86,  i^/S   Heartless's    i5^<i»/  ^^  « 

Lodgings 
•7*  -^matconian  Bravery  revhidf 

89-  Phyfita I  Evil  moral  Good, 
90r  Rhetorical  A£iion  confidered. 


I5T 

169 


91.  Sufficiency  of  the  English  Language^  173. 

92.  hluture  of  Ctmning^y  I^^ 

93 .  Sam  Softl  v's  Htftmryy  1 8  a^ 

94.  Obftru£fiom  of  Learning,  1^^ 
f5r  Tim  Wainscot's  ^imi  a^  Gen^ 

tleman,.  189^ 

S|6.  Hacho  of  Lapland;  194 

97.  Aarratives  of  Travellers  eot^dered,  19^$ 

98.  Sophia  Heedful,  202 
99^  Ortogrul  ef  fiafrai       .  205 

100.  The  Good  Sort  ofl^oman,.  809 

loi.  Omak*s  Plan  of  Life,  214 

102.  yftuhors  inattentive  to  then^ehes,.  218 

J03.  Horrour  of  the  Laft,  222 

ADDITIONAL   ESSAYS, 

Effay  on  Epitaphs,.  229 

suffer tation  on  the  Epitaphs  written  by  Pop E ,    242 
Mravery  of  the  English  Cmmn  Soldiers,     263 


I  t 


###^#######11 


"^^^^^^ 


#  *  «  # 


THE 


1 


I      D 


L      E      R. 


Numb.  53.     Saturday,  jfprii  21,  1 


759^ 


r<»  the  IDLE  k. 


Sir, 


I  HAVE  a  Wife  that  keeps  good  Company; 
You  know  that  the  word  Good  varies  its 
meaning  according  to  the  value  fet  upoa 
different  quahties  in  different  places.  To  be  3 
Good  Man  in  a  College,  is  to  be  learned  ;  hi 
a  Lamp  to  be  brave  ;  and  in  the  City,'  to  be 
rich.  By  Good  Company,  in  the  place  which 
I  have  the  misfortune  to  inhabit,  we  underfland 
not  only  thofe  from  whom  any  good  can  be 
learned,  whetlier  Wifdom  or  Virtue;    or  by 


Vol.  II. 


# 


B 


whom 


!■■  !  ■■ 


■  f  ■ 


«  '        ^        THE  IDLER.  K' s3* 

w<hom  any  good  can  be  conferred,  whether  Profit 
or  Reputation.  Good  Company  is  the  company 
of-thofe  whofc  Birth  is  high,  and  whofcs  Riches 
are  great,  or  of  thofe  whom  the  Rich  and  Noble 
admit  to  familiarity. 

I  am  a  Gentleman  of  a  fortune  by  no  means 
exuberant,  but  more  than  equal  to  the  wants 
of  my  family,  and  for  fomc  years  equal  to  our 
delifes.'  My  Wife,  who  had  never  been  accuf- 
tomed  to  fplendour^  joined  her  endeavours  to 
Bilne  in  the  fupcrintendence  of  our  oeconomy  ; 
we  lived  in  decent  plenty,  and  were  not  excluded 
from  moderate  pieafures.  ^ 

But  flight  caufes  produce  great  effects.  All 
my  liappinefs  has  been  deftroyed  by  change  of 
place;  Virtue  is  too  often  merely  local;  in 
fome  ifituations  the  air  difeafes  the  body,  and  in 
others  poifons  the  mind-  Being  obliged  to  re- 
move my  habitation,  I  was  led  by  my. evil  ge- 
nius to  a  convenient  houfe  in  a  ftreet  where 
many  of  the  Nobility  refide.  We  had  fcarcely 
ranged  our  furniture,  and  aired  our  rooms, 
when  my  Wife  began  to  grow  difcontented,  and 
to  wonder  what  the  neighbours  would  think 
when  they  faw  fo  few  chairs  and  chariots  at  her 

door. 

Her  acquaintance  who  came  to  fee  her  from  the 

quarter  that  w«  had  left,  mortified  her  without 

deiign,  by  continual  enquiries  about  the  Ladies 

wjiofe  lioufes  they  viewed  from  our  windows. 

2  She 


N'53.  THE  IDLER.  , 

She  was  afliamcd  to  confcTs  that  Ihe  had  no  in* 
tcrcourfc  with  them,  and  Jhehcrcd  her  diftrefs 
under  general  anfvveis,  which  always  tended  to 
rajfe  fufpicion  that  (he  knew  more  than  flic 
would  tell ;  but  flie  was  often  reduced  to  diffi- 
culties, when  the  courfe  of  talk  introduced  qucf- 
tions  about  the  furniture  or  ornaments  of  their 
houfes,  which,  when  flie  could  get  no  intelli- 
gence, flic  was  forced  to  pafs  flightly  over,  a$ 
things  which  Ihc  faw  fo  often  that  flie  never 
minded  them. 

To  all  thefe  vexations  ihc  was  refolved  to 
put  an  end,  and  redoubled  her  vifits  to  thofe 
few  of  her  friends,  who  vifit^d  thofc  who  kept 
Good  Company ;  and,  if  ever  ihc  met  a  Lady 
of  Qiiality,  forced  herfelfinto  notice  by  refped 
and  affiduity.  Her  advances  were  generally  re- 
jected ;  and  flie  heard  them,  as  they  went  down 
fliars,  talk  how  feme  creatures  put  thcmfclvcs 
forward.  . 

She  was  not  difcou raged,  but  crept  forward 
from  one  to  another  ;  and,  as  perfeverancc  will 
do  great  things,  fappcd  her  way  unperceived,  till, 
unexpeaedly,  flie  appeared  at  the  Card-table  of 
Lady  Biddy  Porpoi/e,  a  lethargick  Virgin  of 
feventy-flx,  whom  all  the  families  in  the  next 
fquarc  vifited  very  pundually  when  llic  was  not 
at  homci 

This  was  the  firft  flep  of  that  elevation  to 
which  my  wife  has  fince  afcended.     For  five 

^  2  months 


4t  THE  IDLER.  N"  53, 

months  (he  had  no  name  in  her  month  but 
tliat  of  Lady  Biddy,  who,  let  tlic  world  fay  what 
it  would,  had  a  fine  underftanding,  and  fuch  t 
command  of  her  temper,  that,  whether  Ihc  won 
or  loft,  ftie  flcpt  over  her  cards. 

y\t  Lady  Bidd/s  fhe  met  with  Lady  Taivdry, 
Whofc  favour  fhe  gained  by  cftimating  her  ear- 
rings, which  were  counterfeit,  at  twice  the  value 
of  real  diamonds.  When  (he  had  once  entered 
two  houfcs  of  dilHnftion,  fhe  was  eallly  admit- 
ted into  more,  and  in  ten  weeks  had  all  her 
time  anticipated  by  parties  and  engigcmcnts. 
Every  morning  ihc  is  befpoke,  in  the  fum- 
mer,  for  the  gardens  ;  in  the  winter,  for  a 
fale  ;  every  afternoon  fhe  has  vifits  to  pay,  and 
every  night  brings  an  inviolable  appointment, 
or  1  Aflembly  in  which  the  bell  company  in 
the  .own  were  to  appear. 

You  will  cafily  imagine  that  much  of  my 
domeftick  company  is  withdrawn.  I  never  fee 
xuy  wife  but  in  the  hurry  of  preparation,  or  the 
languor  of  wearinefs.  To  drefs  and  to  undrefs 
is  almoft  her  whole  bufinefs  in  private  ;  and  the 
fervants  take  advantage  of  her  negligence  to 
increafe  expencc.  But  I  can  fupply  her  oraif- 
iions  by  my  own  diligence,  and  fliould  not 
much  regret  this  new  courfe  ofhfe,  if  it  did 
nothing  more  than  transfer  to  me  the  care  of 
our  accounts.      Ihe    changes  which   k   has 

madcf 


'n 


N«53-  THE   IDLER.  g 

made  arc  more  vexatious.  My  Wife  hnn  no 
longer  the  ufe  of  her  nnderftanding.  Mic  hat 
i\o  rule  of  aaion  but  the  fafliion.  She  has  no 
opinion  but  that  of  the  people  of  quality.  Slie 
has  no  language  but  the  dialed  of  her  own  fct 
of  company.  She  hates  and  admires  in  humblff 
imitation  j  and  echoes  the  word  charming  and 
dcttjiabli  without  confulting  her  owa  percep- 
tions. 

If  for  a  few  minutes  we  fit  downr  together, 
flic  entertains  me  with  the  repartees  of  Lady 
Cackle,  or  the  converfation  of  Lord  IVh'tffler  and 
Mifs  Slu'ick  ;  and  wonders  to  find  me  receiving 
with  indifFeience  fayings  which  put  all  the  com- 
pany into  laughter. 

By  her  old  friends  (he  is  no  longer  very 
willing  to  be  feen,  but  Ihe  muft  not  rid  herfelf 
©f  them  all  at  once  ;  and  is  fometimes  furpriz- 
cd  by  her  bcft  vifitants  in  company  which  fhc 
would  not  ftiew,  and  cannot  hide ;  but  from 
the  moment  that  a  Countefs  enters,  Ihe  takes 
care  neither  to  hear  nor  fee  them  ;  they  fooii 
find  themfelves  neglefted  and  retire,  and  fhe 
tells  her  Ladyfhip  that  they  arc  fomehow  re- 
lated at  a  great  diftance,  and  that,  as  they  are 
good  fort  of  people,  fhe  cannot  be  rude  to 
them. 

As  by  this  ambitious  union  with  thofe  that 
arc  above  her^  Ihc  is  always  forced  upon  dif- 

B  3  advan- 


Hi 


THE   IDLEK. 


N* 


53- 


advantageous  comparifons  of  her  condition  with 
theirs,  Ihe  has  a  conlUntfourcc  of  niiiery  with- 
in ;  and  never  returns  from  glhtering  Aflem- 
l>lies  and  magnificent  Apartments  but  fhc  growls 
out  her  difcon-tent,  and  wonders  why  flie  was 
doomed  to  fo  indigent  a  ftate.  When  flic  at- 
tends the  Duchefs  to  a  fale,  Ihe  always  fees 
Ibmething  that  Ihe  cannot  buy  ;  and,  that  ftie 
may  not  feem  wholly  inlignificant,  flie  will 
iametimes  venture  to  bid,  and  often  makes  ac- 
quifitions  which  (he  did  not  want  at  prices  which 
ihe  cannot  afford. 

What  adds  to  all  this  uneafinefs  is,  that  this 
expence  is  without  ufe,  and  this  vanity  without 
honour ;  Ihe  forfakes  houfes  where  (he  might 
b«  courted,  for  thofe  where  (he  is  only  fufFcred  ; 
her  equals  are  daily  made  her  enemies,  and,  Ijcr 
fuperiors  will  never  be  htr  friends. 
I  am,  Sir,  yours,  6cc* 


NuMiS^ 


'A 


N-  54. 


THb   IDLER. 


Numb.  54.     Satorday,  Jpril  28,   ij^^. 


To  the  IDLE  R. 


Sir, 

YOU  ha^e  lately  entertained  your  admi- 
rers with  the  cafe  of  an  unfortunate 
Hulband,  and  thereby  given  a  demonftrative 
proof  you  are  not  averfc  even  to  hear  Appeals, 
and  terminate  Differences  between  Man  and 
Wife ;  I  therefore  take  the  liberty  to  prefent 
you  with  the  Cafe  of  an  injured  Lady,  which, 
as  it  chiefly  relates  to  what  I  think  the  Lawyers 
call  a  Point  of  Law,  I  Ihall  do  in  as  juridical  a- 
manner  as  I  am  capable,  and  fubmit  it  to  the 
confideration  of  the  lear.ned  Gentlemen  of  that 
Profeflion. 

Imprimis,  In  the  ftyle  of  my  marriage  Arti- 
cles, a  Marriage  was  had  and  foUmni%ed^  about 
fix  months  ago,  between  me  and  Mr.  Savtcharges, 
a  Gentleman  poflefled  of  a  plentiful  fortune  of 
his  own,  and  one  who,  I  was  perfuaded,  would 
improve,  and  not  fpend  mine. 

Before  our  marriage  Mr.  Savecharggs  had  all 
along  preferred  the  falutary  exercife  of  walking 

,  on  foot,  to  the  diftempered  eafe,  as  be  terms  it, 
of  lolling  in  a  chariot :  but  notwithftanding  his 
fine  pancgyricks  on  walking,   the  great  advan- 

,  ^4  tage;j 


p 


THE  IDLER. 


N' 


tt^s  the  inftntry  weris  in  U,e  fole  pofleffion  of 

tound  I  had  very  different  notions  of  an  Equi- 
page, and  was  not  eafily  to  be  conver^ef  or 
gained  over  to  his  party.  ^ 

whtnev«  f''"^'-  \  "":  <J«="nined  to  have, 
^r^  r  """'•  ^  '°°  ^'"  knew  the  dif 
pofition  of  my  intended  confort,  to  leave  the 
prttviding  one  enfirely  to  his  honour  and  fll/ 
termyfelf  Mr.  .».„*.,,„  ,,,,  inle  "a  i" 

made  previous  to  our  marriage,  «fmi  ,,  ^' 
^^  -  C^ci ;  but  left  I  ftould  be4i4^„  ^ 
the  attornies-ihotild  hot  have  done  me^iuVI 

Crrutmt,t'K«'*^''t«  *"■'  "^^^ 

Wordsj  I  *,ii  fct  tbout  and  trahfcfibe  that  D»t 

terw  you  math  better<han  can  be  done  by  one 
*ho  .,-  fo^tfeeply  intenftedin  the  event  faiS 

•SL°f"      ?i!""*"'°"  I  b«U  my  hopes  of 
teteg  foon  Hinder' the  tnmfporting.  delfehtful 
^  deno«inatibn  of  ,  faftibrtable  L%,  JS  e„. 

.'  Sl.IJ^*''^''  ?''•' ■«*^''-*»*^W^««city  of 
'fcdWlih|rabttutiiiliero*rnCbadi. 

"And.  ftrther,  the-faid  SoUmo^  Sav,charg„, 

•«-£Lr"    S"*"*    ^Of"  "nd  confiderations 
«  hll'"  "^'"5'  ''^'"'Breed.  and  doth 

f**rr«  feall  and  will,  fo  foon  as  convenient- 
iflteaded  Marrage,  at  his  o*rn  proper  coft 


9&UU 


N*^54.  THE  lOtSR.  vi^ 

**  aitd  charges,  find  and  provido  aai^taimMkMtk 
**  erfiur^wheil  carfhtgi^  conumnfycutted^r  known 
^*  by  thinam0  of  a  ClP«fi& ;  which^ftid  Vehicle  or 
•*  wheel. carriage,  fo  called  of  known*  by  the 
"  name  of  a  Coach/?  ihaE  be  mfed  4tndenJ9yid  Yfy 
"the  faid  ^wio*  MoAJh,  his  irttended'iWife,*' 
[pray  mind  that,  Mr. ) /j//^r]  u.  at  fuch  time* 
**andin  fuch  manner  as  ihe,  Afe  i^M' 5W<;'-i>/»* 
"  4iijh,  fliaH  think  fit  and  cotwcniertt.'* 

Sudi,  Mr,  Idlery  is  the  agreement  my  fUffiok^ 
ate  Admirer  enterfed  into;  aiid  What 'the  i^«r 
frugal  Hujband  calls  a  performance  of  it  remains^ 
to  bedefcribcd.     Soon^  after  the  ceiietoony  ^f 
%ning  and  fealing  was   over, i  burs: wftd^g- 
eloaths  being  fent  home,  ahd^iin  il*drt,<  ^vdy 
thing  in  rcadiiiefs  except  rtie  Go^cl>i  my  oW» 
Ihadow  was  feared  more  coiiftant  than  mypaf* 
fionate  Lover  in  his  attendanceon  tne.  We^f^d 
by  his  perpetual  iraportunkies    for  vi^at^  he 
called  a  completion  of  his  blifs,  I  c^nfentedio 
make  hira^ happy  ;  in  a>  few  days.  I  gave  him  mf 
hand,,  andj  attended:  by  Hymen  m  his  fafFron- 
robes,  retired  to  a  country-ieat  of  my  htjd)andfs^ 
where  the  Honey-moort  flew  over  our  heads  ere 
we  hadtititt  tarecollea  ourfelves,  or  think  of* 
our  engagements  in  town^.     Well,  to-  town  ^e 
came,  and  you  may  be  fure.  Sir,  I  expcded  t© 
ftep  into  m.y  Coach  on  my  arrival  here ;  bbt 
what  was  my  furpriz^and  difappointmeiK,  vthen^. 
inllead  of  Oiis^  be  began  to  found  in  my  ears^ 


'IIP 


*i' 


tw  THE   IDLER.  .N's^. 

"That  the  intcreft  of  money  wai  low,  very 
low  ;  and  what  a  terrible  thing  it  was  to  be  in- 
cumbered with  a  little  regiment  of  fervantff  in 
thefe  hard  times  I"   I  could  eafily  perceive  wlwt 
all  this  tended  to,  but  would  not  fcem  to  un- 
dcrftand   him ;  which  made  it  highly  neccffkry 
for  Mr.   Savithargit  to  explain  himfelf  more 
intelligibly;    to    harp   upon   and    proteft    he 
dreaded  the  expence  of  keeping  a  Coach.    And, 
truly,  for  his  part,  he  could  not  conceive  how 
the  plcafure  refulting  from  fuch  a  convenience 
i  could  be  any  way  adequate  to  the  heavy  expence 
^attending  it.  I  now  thought  it  high  time  to  fpeak 
•  with  equal  plainncfs,  and  tol4Jiinii,  as  thefor- 
V  tune  I  brought  fairly  entitled  m«  toride  fn  my  own .. 
Coacl^  and;  as  I  was  fcnfible  his  circumllances 
wouidvcry  welliaffordit,  he  muft  pardon  me 
^  if  I  infifted  on  a, performance  of  hi«  Ugrcement. 

I,ap|^,to  you,  Mr.Mtfr,  whether  any  thiag 

covld  be  more,  civile,  more  complaifant,  than 

^  Ihi*-^  And.  (would  yau,believe,it?)  the  creature 

in  rttuniv  a  few  days  after,  accofted«ie-in  an. 

©fl5fi>4cd  tone,  with,  "  Madam^  Lcannowttil 

<^  you  your  Coa«h  is  ready;  and  fiijce  you  are 

♦Vfo.  paflionaiely  fond  of  one,.  I  intend  jyou  the 

,  ^*  honouf  of  keeping  a  p»ir  of  hatTcs.— You 

?;*«  infiftcd  upon  having  anartlde  of  Pin-money  ; 

•  •«  and  HoKfes  are  no  part  of  my  agreement.'* 

Bafe,  defigfitng  wretch!— I  beg  your  pardon, 

Mr.  /4^/^r,.the,.very  recitarof  fuch  mean>,  un- 

gmtlcman-like  behayiour  fires  my  blood,  and 

iigh 


.N^  54. 


THE  IDLER. 


If 


lights  up  a  flame  within  me.     But  hence,  thou  « 
woril  of  monftcrs,  ill-timed  Rage,  and  let  me 
not  fpoil  my  caufc  for  want  of  temper. 

Now  though  1  am  convinced  1  might  make 
a  worfc  ufe  of  part  of  the  Pin-money,  than  by 
extending  my  bounty  towards  the  fupport  of  fo  ' 
ufefula  part  of  the  brute  creation  ;  yet,  like  a 
true-born  Englifliwoman,  I  am  fo  tenacious  of 
my  rights  and  privileges,  and  moreover  fo  good 
a  friend  to  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Law,  that  I 
proteft,  Mr.   Wr,  fooner  than  tamely  give  vp 
tlie  point,  and  be  qi^ibbled  out  of  my  riglit,  I 
will  receive  my  Pin-money,  as  it  were,  with 
one  hand,  and  pay  it  to  them  with  the  other ; 
provided  they  will  give  me,'  or,  which4s  the 
fame  thing,    my  Truftees,   encouragement  to 
commence  a  fuit  ag^irtft  <  this  dear  frugal  Huf- 
bandofmino. 

Ahd  of  this  I  can't  have  the  leaft  (hadow  of 
doubt,  inafmuch  as  I  have  been  told  by  veiy 
good  autliority,  it  isi  fome  way  or, other  laid 
down  as  a  rule,  ^*', ''*  That .  f^ henever  the  Law 
"  doth  give  any  thing  to  one,  it  givcth  impli- 
•*  edly  whatever  is  neceflary  for  the  taking  and 
.  **  enjoying  the  fame.**  Novv  I  would  gladly 
know  what  enjoyment  I,  or  any  Lady  in  the 
kingdom^'  can  have  of  a  coach  without  horfes  ? 
The  anfwer  is  obvious — None  at  all!  Foras 
Serj,  C<sf/^fltf  very  wifely  obferves,  *'  Though  a 


*  Coke  on  Littleton. 

B  6- 


cjacn 


I 


I 

if 

ii 


::  } 


;«  THE  IDLER.  ,19.3^ 

*•  eeic^Tias- wheels,  to'  the  end  if  n»afth««by 
and  by  virtue  the«o^  be  enibled  tb  niove ' 

'"loS-^T  "^""^'l  '"^y^  ''=»  have 

ofits  vital  parts,  that  is,  the  hd.fes." 

Andthtrtfore.  Sir,  I  hnttbly  hope  you  ,„d 

the  learned  m  the  Law  will  be  of  opinion,  that 

iwo  certain  animals,  or  quadruped  creatures, 

commonly -called  or  known  by  the  name  of 

ffilecfhr'*'"""''^''^'-*^--^ 

SUKEY   SAVE<iM!lARGES, 


^■idi 


.      '  TV  jfh  IDLER. 

*MR.IbL<t, 

'T  HAVE  taken  the  liberty  of  laying  bfefore 
X.  you^my  complaint,  and  of  dcfiring  advice 
or  cohfolation,  with  the  greater  confidence, 
becaufe  I  believe  tnany  other  Writers  have 
luffered  the  fame  indignities  with  myfelf,  and 
lK)pe  ^y  quarrerwiU  be  regarded  by  you  and 
your  Readers  a&  jflje  commoa  caufe  of  Lite- 
jaturct 

Having 


N^^S-  THE  IDLER.  i^ 

Having  htet\  long  a  Student,  I  thouglit 
myfclf  qualified  in  time  to  become  an  Author. 
My  enquiries  have  been  "much  diveriified,  and 
far  extended ;  and  not  finding  my  geniuy  di- 
re£<:ing  me  by  irrefiftible  impulfe  to  any  parti- 
cular fubje£l,  I  deliberated  three  years  which 
part  of  knowledge  to  iJiuftrate  by  my  labours. 
Choice  is  more  often  determined  by  accident 
than  by  rcafon :  I  walked  abroad  one  morning 
with  a  curious  Lady,  and  by  her  enquiries  and 
obfervations  was  incited  to  write  the  Natural 
Hiftory  of  the  County  in  which  I  refide. 

Natural  Hiftory  is  no  work  for  one  that  loves 
his  chair  or  his  bed.  Speculation  may  be  ptir- 
fued  on  a  foft  couch,  but  nature  muft  be  ob- 
fcrved  in  the  open  air.  I  have  collefted  ma- 
terials with  indefatigable  pertinacity.  I  have 
gathered  glow-worms  in  the  evening,  and  fnails 
in  the  morning ;  I  have  feen  the  daify  clofe  and 
open  ;  I  have  heard  the  owl  fhtiek  at  midnight, 
and  hunted  infe£ls  in  the  heat  of  noon. 

Seven  years  I  was  employed  in  colle^ing 
Animals  and  Vegetables,  and  then  found  tliat 
my  defign  was  yet  imperfea.  The  fubterranean 
treafure5  of  the  place  had  been  paflcd  unobferved, 
and  another  year  was  to  be  fpeni  in  Mines  and 
Coal-pits.  What  I  had  already  done  fupplied  a . 
fufficient  motive  to  do  more.  I  acquainted  my- 
felf  with  the  black  inhabitants  of  metallic  caverns, 
aiid,  in  defiance  of  damps  and  floods,  wandered  . 

through 


THE   IDLER. 


N* 


14:  inc.    iUL,Kits,»  iN'55; 

throagh  the  gloomy  labyrinths,  and  gathered 
Poffils  from  every  fiflure. 

At  laft  I  began  to  write,  and  as  I  iini(hed  any 

•  fe£tion  of  my  booK,  read  it  tofuch  of  my 
friends  as  were  moft  ikilful  in  the  matter  which 

;  it  treated.  None  of  them  iwere  fatisiied ;  one 
didiked  the  difpofition  of  the  parts,  another  the 

:  colours  of  ihe  ftyle  ;  one  advifed  me. to  enlarge, 
another  to  abridge^  1  refolved  to  read  no  mgr^, 
but  to  take  my  own  way  and  write  on,  for  .by 

:  confultation  I  only  perplexed  my  thoughts  and 
Retarded  my  work. 
The  Book  was  at-laft  finilhed,  and  I  did  not 

'  doubt  but  my  labour  would  be  repaid  by  profit, 
and  my  ambi-tion  fatisfied  with  honours.      I 

•  confidered  that  Natural  Hiftory  is  -  neither  tiem- 
'  porary  nor  local,  and  that  though  I  limited, ray 

Enquiries  to  my  own  County,  yet  every  part  of 
;  the  earth  has  productions  common  to  aU  the  reft. 
Civil  Hiftory  may  be  partially  ftudied,  the  revo- 
lutions of  one  nation  may  be  negleftcd  by  ano- 
■  theri  but)  after  that  in  which  all  have  an  intereft, 
'  all  muil  be.  iiiquifitive.     No  man  can  have  funk 
fo  far  into  ftupidity  as  not  to  confider  the  pro- 
perties of  the  ground  on  which  h©  walks,  of  the 
plants  o?i  which  he  feeds,  or  the  animals  that 
delight  his  ear  or  amufe  his  eve  ;  and  therefore 
licomputed  that  univerfal  curiofity  would  call 
.  for  many  editions  of  my  Book,,  and  that  i\\  five 

y^ars 


I  [  i.'iitii 


K*5^.  THE   IDLER.  ;  tS\ 

years  I  (hould  gain  fifteen  thoufand  pounds  by  / 
the  fale  of  thirty  thoufand  copies; 

When  i  began  to  write  1  infurcd  the  houfe, 
and  fufFcrcd  the  utmoft  folicitude  when  I  cn- 
truiled  roy  book' to  the  Carrier,  though  I  had; 
fecured  it  againft'  mifchanccs:  by.  lodging  two 
tranfcripts  in -■  different  places.  At-my  arrival^ 
I  expc^ed  that  the  patrons  of  learning  would 
contend  for  die  lionour  of  a  Dedication,  and 
refolved  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  letters,  by  a 
^  haughty  contempt  of  pecuniary  folicitations.?, 

I  took  lodgings  near  thchoufeofthc  Royal. 
,  Society,    and  expeaed;e\ery   morning  a  vifit 
from  the  Prefident.     I  walked  in  the  Park,  and  •■ 
wondered  that 'I  overheard  no  mention  of  the 
.  great  Naturalift.     At  lad  I  vifited  a  Noble  Earl, 
and  told  him  of' my  Work;  hcanfwcied,  that 
he  was  under  an  engagement- never  to  fubfci^ibe. 
Iwas  angry  tahave  that  refuied  which  1  did  not 
.  mean  to  alk,  andconcealed  my  defiga  of  making 
him  immortak     I   went  next  day  to  anothejr, 
.  and,  in  refentment  of  my  latp  affront,  offered  to 
prefix  his  name  to  my  New-  Book'.     He  faid, 
coldly,  tl*atr  he^  did  mi  imderJinrtdHhofe  things ;  ano  - 
ther  thouglit  thtre  were  too  many  Books ;  and  ano- 
ther would  t£>ik  with  me  when  the  Racei  were  over. 
Being  amazed  to  find  a  Mail   of  Learning  fo 
indecently  flighted,  I    refolved  to  indulgcvtiie 
pliilofophieal  pride  of  retirement  and  indepen- 
..  dence.    I  then  fent  to.  fome.  of  the.  principal 

Book^ 


?16  THE  IDLER.  N*^^^. 

Bookfcilcrs  the  pUn  of  my  Book,  and  befpokc 
a  large  room  in  the  next  tavern,  that  I  might 
more  commodioufly  fee  them  together,  and  en- 
joy the  comeft,   whil©  they  were  outbidding 
one  another,    1  drank  my  coffee,  and  yet  no- 
'  body  was  come ;  at  laft  I  received  a  note  from 
'  one,  to  tell  me,  that  he  wai  going  out  of  town  ;, 
•  and  from  another,  tlut  Natural  Hiftory  was 
out  of  his  way ;  at  lall  there  came  a  grave  man, 
who  defired  to  fee  the  Work,  and,  without 
opening  it,  told  me,  that  a  Book  of  that  fize 
would  nevtr  do» 

1  then  condefcended  to  ftep  into  fhops,  and 

'  mention  my  Work  to  the  Maftcrs.    Some  neyer 

dealt  with  Authors ;   others  had    their  hands 

full :  fome  never  had  known  fuch  a  dead  time  ; 

otlicrs  had  loft  by  all  that  they  had  publilhed 

for  the  laft  twelvemonth.    One  offered  to  print 

^  my  Work,  if  I  could  procure  Subfcriptions  for 

?^live  hundred,  and  would  allow  me  two  hundred 

copies  for  my  property.    I  loft  my  patience, 

and  ^ave  him  a  kick,  for  which  he  has  indited 

'  me*  , 

I  can  eafily  perceive,  that  there  is  a  combina- 
tion among  them  to  defeat  my  expeftations  ; 
and  I  find  it  fo  general,  that  I  am  fure  it  muft 
have  been  long  concerted.  I  fuppofc  fome  of 
my  friends,  to  whom  1  read  the  firft  part,  gaVe 
notice  of  my  dcfign,  and,  perhaps,  fold  the 
treacherous  intehigencc  at  a  higher  price  than 
i  thfr 


N^55.  THE  IDLER.  17 

tlic  fraudulcncc  of  Trade  will  now  allow  me  for 
my  Book. 

Inform  me,  Mr.  Idler,  what  I  muft  do; 
where  muft  Knowledge  and  Induftry  find  their 
iccompcnce,  thus  neglected  by  the  High,  and 
cheated  by  the  Low  ?  I  fon.etimes  refolve  to 
print  ray  Book  at  my  own  cxpencc,  and,  like 
the  Sibyl,  double  the  price  ;  and  fomctimcs^anl 
tempted,  in  emulation  of  Ra/cight  to  throw  it 
into  the  fire,  and  leave  this  fordid  generation  to 
the  curfes  of  pofterity.  Tell  me,  dear  Idltr, 
wh«t  I  (hall  do. 

I  am,  Sir,  &c. 

Numb.  56.    Saturday,  May  21  ^  ^759* 


THERE  is  fuch  difference  between  the 
purfuits  of  men,  that  one  part  of  the  in- 
habitants of  a  great  city  lives  to  little  other 
purpofe  than  to  wonder  at  the  reft.  Some 
have  hdpes  and  fears,  wifhes  and  averfions, 
which  never  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  others, 
and  enquiry  is  laborioufly  exerted  to  gain  that 

which  tliofe  who  poffcfs  it  are  ready  to  throw 
away. 

To  thofe  who  are  accuftomed  to  value  every 
tiling  by  its  ufe,  and  have  no  fuch  fuoerfluitv 

of 


I  i 


i  I 


'  111 


i8  THE  IDLER.  -  f^o  ^^^ 

of  time  or  money  as  may  prompt  them  to  un- 
natural warns  or  cipricious  emulations,  nothing 
appears  more  improbable  or  extravagant  than 
ihc  love  of  Curiofities,  or  that  defirc  of  accu- 
mulating trifles,  which  dillinguifhes  many  ty 
whom  no  other  diftin£\ion  could  have  ever  been 
obtained. 

He  that  ha«s  lived  without  knowing  to  whnt 
height  dcfire  may  be    raifed   by   vanity,    with 
what  rapture  baubles  are  fnatched  out  of  tLc 
hands  of  rival  collc£lors,  how  the  cagerncfs  of| 
one  raifes  eagcmefs  in  another,  and  one  worth* 
lefs  purchafe  makes  a  fecond  ncceflary,  may,  by| 
paffing  a  few  hours  at  an  auftion,  learn  morcj 
than  can  be  Ihewiv  by  many  volumes  of  Maxims 
QT  ElTays*. 

The  Advertifement  of  a  Sale  is  a  (ignal  whichl 
at  once  puis  a«  thoufand  hearts  in  motion^  and  I 
brings  contenders  from  every  part  to  the  fcene 
of  diftribution..   He  that  had  refolved.to  buy  no 
more,  feels  his  conftancy  fubdued  ;  there  is  now! 
fomething   in  tlie  Catalogue  wl  ich  completes 
his  Cabinet,  and  which  he  was  never  before  able! 
to  find..    He  whofefober  reiie«£l'     s  lafcrm  him, 
that  of  adding  coiledion  to  co'     •     ■    there 
no  end,  and.  that  it  is  wife  to  leave  early  that 
which  muft  be.Ie/t  impcrfeft  at  laft,  yet  cannot 
with^hold  himfelf  from  coming  to  fee  what  it  is 
that   brings  (o   many  together,  and   when   he 
cr^^^ies  15  loan  overpowered  by  his  habitual  paf- 


NV  5f>, 


THE    IDLER. 


;d  out  of  tlic 


lion ;  he  is  attra£led  by  rarity,  leduccd  by  ck* 
ample,  and  inflamed  by  competition. 

VVhilc  the  ftores  of  Pride  and  Happincfs  luc 
furveycd,  one  looks  with  longing  eyes  aud 
gloomy  countenance  on  that  which  he  defpairs 
to  gain  from  a  richer  bidder;  another  keeps  his 
eye  with  care  from  fettling  too  long  on  that 
Arhich  LiC  mod  earneflly  defires ;  an<i  another, 
wlia  more  art  than  virtue,  depreciates  that 
which  he  values  mofV,  in  liope  to  have  it  at  an 
eafy  rate. 

The  novice  is  often  furprized  to  fee  what  mi- 
nute and  unimportant  difcriminatlons  mcreafe 
or  diminifh  value.  An  irregular  contortion  of 
a  turbinated  Ihell,  which  common  eyes  pafs  un- 
regarded.,  will  ten  times  treble  its  price  in  the 
imagination  of  philofophers.  Beauty  is  far  from^ 
operating  upon  colle6^ors  as  upon  low  and  vul- 
gar minds,  even  where  beauty  might  be  thought 
the  only  quality  that  could  deferve  notice. 
Among  the  Ihe^s  that  pleafe  by  tlieir  variety  of 
colours,  if  on^  can  be  found  accidentally  de- 
formed by  a  cloudy  fpot,  it  is  boafted  as  the  pride 
of  the  CoUedion.  China  is  fometimes  purchafed, 
for  little  lefs  than  its  weight  in  gold,  only  be- 
caufe  it  is  old,  though  neither  lefs  brittle,  nor 
better  painted  than  the  modern  ;  and  brown 
China  is  caught  up  with  extafy,  though  no  rea- 
fon  can  bn  imagined  for  whicli  it. Ihould  be  pre-, 
i    fcrred  to  comraou  Y.elT^h  of.cpnamQn  clay. 

The. 


':l;illl 
lilllll" 


[  I 

ill 


N!i.i 


i! 


^G  THE   IDLER.  N"56. 

The  fate  of  Prints  and  Coins  is  equally  inex- 
plicable. Sonie  Prin's  are  treafured  up  as  in- 
clUmably  valuable,  becaiife  tire  imprellion  was 
made  before  the  Plate  was  finifhed.  Of  Coins 
the  prifc  rifes  not  from  the  purity  of  the  metal^ 
the  excellence  of  the  workmanfbipy  the  elegance 
cf  the  legend,  or  the  chronological  ufe.  A 
piece,  of  which  neither  the  infcription  can  be 
read,  nor  the  fece  diftinguillied,  if  there  remain 
of  it  but  enough  to  Ihew  that  it  is  rare,  will  be 
fought  by  contending  natidns,  and  dignify  the 
f reafury  in  which  it  fhall  be  ihewn. 

Whether  this  curioflty,  fo  barren  of  irame>- 
diaie  advantage,  and  fa  liable  to  depravation,, 
does  more  harm  or  good,  is  not  eafily  decided. 
Its  harm  is  apparent  at  th^  firft  view.  It  fills  the 
mind  with  trifling  ambition ;  fixes  the  atten- 
tion upon  things  which,  have  feldom  any  ten- 
dency towards  virtue  or  wifdom ;  employs  iii 
idle  inquiries  the  time  that  is  given  for  better 
p'-rpofes ;  and  often  ends  in  mean  and  difhoneft 
pjaftices,  when  defire  increafes  by  indulgence 
beyond  the  power  of  honeft  gratification. 

Thefe  are  the  effefts  of  curiofity  in  excefs  ; 
but  what  paflion  in  excefs  will  not  become  vici- 
ous ?  All  indifferent  qualities  and  pra£lices  are 
bad  if  they  arc  compared  with  thofe  which  are 
good,  and  good  if  they  are  oppofed  to  thofe  that 
are  bad.  The  pride  or  tHe  plcafure  of  making 
Collections,  if  it  he  rcflraincd  by  prudence  and 

morality. 


THE   IDLER. 


21 


morality,    produces  a  pleafing   rcmlffion  after 

more  laborious  lludies  ;  furnifties  an  amufe- 
Imcnt  not  wholly  unprofitable  for  that  part  of 
[life,  the  greater  part  of  many  lives,  which  wouk^ 
[otherwife  be  loll  in  idlenefs  or  vice  ;  it  produces 
Ian  uieful  traffick  between  the  induflry  of  indi- 
jgence  and  the  curiofity  of  wealth  ;  it  brings  many 
I  things  to  notice  that  would  be  neglected;  and 

by -fixing  th^  thoughts  upon  intelleftual  plea- 
Ifures,  relifts  the  natural  encroachments  of  {en<' 

fuality,  and  maintains  the  mind  in  l\tr  lawful 
Ifuperiority. 


^^^ 


Numb.  57.    Saturday,  Alay  19,  1759. 


PRUDENCE  is  of  more  frequent  ufe 
than  any  other  intelledual  quality ;  it  is 
[exerted  on  flight  occafions,  and  called  into  adt 
[by  the  curfory  bufinefs  of  common  life. 

Whatever  is  univerfally  neceflary  has  been 
Igranted  to  maiikind  on  eafy  terms.  "  Prudence, 
[as  it  is  always  wanted,  is  without  great  difficulty 
[obtained.  It  requires  neither, ^xtenfive  view 
nor  profound  fearch,  but  forces  itfelf,  by  fpon- 
Itaneous  impulfe,  upon  a  mind  neither  great  nor 
[bufy,  neither  ingrofled  by  vaft  defigns,  nor  dif- 
|trai"ted  by  muitiplicity  of  attention- 
Prudence 


1 1 


I  :U:! 


ill 


ill 

ill 


22 


THE    IDLER. 


Prudence  operates  on  life  in  the  fame  manner 
as  rules  on  compofition ;  it  produces  vigilance 
rather  than  elevation,  rather  prevents  lofs  than 
procures  advantage ;  and  often  cfcapes  mifcar- 
riages,  but  feldom  reaches  either  power  or 
honour.  It  <juencl*cs  that  ardour  of  enter- 
prize  by  which  every  thing  is  done  that  can 
claim  praife  or  admiration ;  and  reprciles  that 
generous  tcmeiity  which  often  fails  and  often 
fuccecds.  Rules  may  obviate  faults,  but  can 
never  confer  beauties ;  and  Prudence  keeps  life 
fafe,  but  does  not  often  make  it  happy.  The 
world  is  not  amazed  with  prodigies  of  excel- 
lence, but  when  Wit  tramples  upon  Rules, 
and  Magnanimity  breaks  the  chains  of  Pru- 
dence. 

One  of  the  moft  prudent  of  all  that  have 
fallen  within  my  obfervation,  is  my  old  coni- 
panion  S^phron,  who  has  pafled  through  the 
world  in  quiet,  by  perpetual  adherence  to  a  few 
plain  maxims,  and  wonders  how  contention  and 
diilrefs  can  fo  often  happen. 

The  firfl  principle  of  Sopbron  is  to  run  no  ha- 
zards.  Though  he  loves  money,  he  is  of  opinion 
that  frugality  is  a  more  certain  fource  of  riches 
than  induflry.  It  is  to  no  purpofc  that  any 
profpeA  of  large  profit  is  fet  before  him  ;  he  be- 
lieves little  about  futurity,  and  does  not  love  to 
truft  his  money  out  of  his  fight,  for  nobody 
knows  what  may  happen.   He  has  a  fmall  eftate, 

which 


THE    IDLE^. 


23 


which  he  lets  at  the  old  rent,  becaufe  //  is  hetur 
t»  have  a  little  than  nothing ;  but  he  rigoroufly  dc- . 
mands  payment  on  the  ftated  day,  for  he  that 
Uanrnt  pay  one  quarter  canmt  pay  two.  If  he  is 
told  of  any  improvements  in  agriculture,  he 
likes  the  old  way,  has  obferved  that  changes 
veryfeldom  anfwer  expeaation,  is  of  opinion 
that  our  fore-fathers  knew  how  to  till  the  ground 
as  well  as  we ;  and  concludes  with  an  argument 
[that  nothing  can  overpower,  that  the  expence 
of  planting  and  fencing  is  immediate,  and  the 
advantage  diftant,  and  that  he  is  no  wife  man  zi^ho 
will  quit  a  certainty  for  an  uncertainty,  * 

Another  of  Sopbron's  rules  is,  to  mind  no  hup. 

nefs  but  his  own.     In  the  State  he  is  of  no  party  ; 

1  but  hears  and  fpeaks  of  publick  affairs  with  the 

fame  coldnefs  as  of  the  adminiftration  of  fome 

[ancient  republick.    If  any  flagrant  aft  of  Fraud 

tor  Oppreffion  is  mentioned,  he  hopes  that  W/  is 

\not  true  that  is  told;  if  Mifcondua  or  Corruption 

puts  the  nation  in  aflame,  he  hopes  that  every 

[man  means  well.      At  Eleaions  he   leaves   his 

J  dependents  to  their  own  choice,  and  declines  to 

vote  hirafelf}    for  every  Candidate  is  a  good 

man,    whom   he    is    unwilling  to    oppofe  or 

offend. 

If  difputes  happen  among  his  neighbours,  he 

obferves  an  invariable  and  cold  neutrality.     His 

[punauality  has   gained  him  the  reputation  of 

honefty,   and  his  caution  that  of  wifdom  ;  and 

few 


/ 


Hi 


1      in 
>      IN 


I     M 


I 


24  THE  IDLER.  N»  57. 

few  would  refufe  to  refer  their  claims  to  his 
award.  He  might  have  prevented  many  expen- 
five  law-fuits,  and  quenched  many  a  feud  in  its 
firft  fmoke,  but  always  refufes  the  office  of 
Arbitration,  becaufe  he  muft  decide  againft  one 
or  the  other. 

With  the  affairs  of  other  families   he  is  al- 
ways  unacquainted.      He  fees   eftates    bought 
and  fold,    fquandered  and  increafed,    without 
praiiing  the  ceconomift,  or  cenfuring  the  fpend- 
thrift.     He   never  courts   the  rifmg,  left   they 
fhould  fall  J  nor  infults  the  fallen,  left  they  Ihould 
rifeigain.     His  caution  has  the  appearance  of 
virtue,  and  all  who  do  not  want  his  help  praife 
his  benevolence  ;  but  if  any  man  folicits  his 
affiftance,  he  has  juft  fent  away  all  his  money; 
and  when  the  petitioner  is  gone,  declares  to  his 
family  that  he  is  forry  for  his  misfortunes,  has 
always  looked  upon  him  with  particular  kind- 
nefs,  and  therefore  could  not  lend  him  money, 
left  he  ftiould  deftroy  their  friendfhip  by  the  ne- 
-  ceffity  of  enforcing  payment. 

Of  domeftic  misfortunes  he  has  never  heard. 
When  he  is  told  the  hundredth  time  of  a  Gen- 
tleipan's  daughter  who  has  married  the  coach- 
man, he  lifts  up  his  hands  with  aftonifhment, 
for  he  always  thought  her  a  very  fober  girl. 
When  nuptial  quarrels,  after  having  filled  the 
country  with  talk  and  laughter,  at  laft  end  in 

feparation, 


N'  57. 


THE  IDLER, 


S5 


reparation,  he  never  can  conceive  how  it  hap- 
jpened,  for  he  looked  upon   the«,  a.  .  ha^!; 

tdU'V^'I-"  ''  f"^'  ^'  "''''  g'^«  m  par- 
ticular direftion,  becaufe  events  are  uncertain 

-d  he       u  bring  no  blame  upon  himfelf    b"; 

le  takes  the  confulter  tenderly  by  the  hand,  tells 

)oth  fides ;  obftrves  that  a  man  may  be  as  eafil  v 
bo  hafty  as  too  How.  and  that  as  many  fa   Z 
Jomg  ,00  much  as  Uo  little  ;  that  a  u„yLJZ  . 
[wo  ears  and  one  tongue  ;  and  i/m,  //«/,  i.v  :,  ,', 

fc^^t'ar  ^  ^""''^  '^" '"* ''-^-^^^^^ 
:Ltati:s''^^"^'"^"^^'''^^^"^^"^Seof 

With  this  fome  are  fatisfied,  and  go  home 
Nh  great  reverence  of  Sopkron^s  wifdom  and 
he  are  offended,  becaufe  every  one  is  1  f' "„ 
Wl  poflefiion  of  his  own  opinion, 
iophron  gives  nocharaaers.  It  is  emulhr 
"ntotei  him  of  Vice  and  Virtue,  for^t 
t^arked  that  no  ma„  iifces  to  be  cenfured    a^d 

erytaimly  to   be  m  good  circumftances  •  he 

[the  meets  wzth  none  but  very  fe„,ible  people.* 

Every 


ii 


lili 


j5  THE  IDLER.  N'57. 

Every  man  is  honeft  and  hearty,  and  every  wo- 
man  is  a  good  creature. 

Thus  Sopbrm  creeps  along,  neither  loved  nor 
hated,  neither  favoured  nor  oppofed  ;  he  has 
never  attempted  to  grow  rich,  for  fear  of  grow- 
ing poor  ;  and  has  r^fed  no  friends,  for  fear  of 
making  enemies. 


^ 


Numb.  58.     Satoxday,   May  26,  1759- 

PLEASURE  is  very  feldom  found  where 
it  is  fought.  Our  brighteft  blazes  of 
dadnefs  are  commonly  kindled  by  unexpefted 
Lrks  The  flowers  which  fcatter  their  odours 
from  iime  to  time  in  the  paths  of  life,  grow 
„p   without  culture  from   feeds  fcattered   by 

'*■  Nothing  is  more  hopelefs  than  a  fcheme  of 
merriment.  Wits  and  humorifts  are  brougb 
together  from  diftant  quarters  by  preconcerted 
invitations  ;  they  come  attended  by  the.r  ad- 
mirers  prepared  to  laugh  and  to  applaud  ;  they 
gaze  a- while  on  each  other,  alhamed  to  befilenJ 

!nd  afraid  to  fpeak-.  '-"X  ««»" '' ''f  °"*;"  J 
withhimfelf,  grows  angry  ^"^  "^,f' ^,^; .^'l 
him  pain,  and  refolves  that  he  w.U  contr  toj 


N^s^.  THE  IDLER.  a; 

nothing  to  the  merriment  of  fuch  worthlefs  com» 
pany.  Wine  inflames  the  general  malignity, 
and  changes  fullennefs  to  petulance,  till  at  laft 
none  can  bear  any  longer  the  prcfence  of  the  reft. 
They  retire  to  vent  their  indignation  in  fafer 
places,  where  they  are  heard  with  attention  ; 
their  importance  is  reftored,  they  recover  their 
good-humour,  and  gladden  the  night  with  wit 
and  jocularity. 

Merriment  is  always  the  effba  ofafudden 
impreffion.  The  jeft  which  is  expe£led  is  al- 
ready deftroyed.  The  moft  aaive  imagination 
will  be  fometimes  torpid  under  the  frigid  in- 
fluence of  melancholy;  and  fometimes  occafions 
will  be  wanting  to  tempt  the  mind,  however 
I  Volatile,  to  fallies  and  excurfions.  Nothing  was 
ever  faid  with  uncommon  felicity,  but  by  the 
co-operation  of  chance  ;  and,  therefore,  wit  as 
well  as  valour  muft  be  content  to  Iharc  its 
honours  with  fortune. 

All  other  pleafures  are  equally  uncertain;  the 
i  general  remedy  of  uneafiftefs  is  change  of  place  ; 
almoft  every  one  has  fgfne  journey  of  pleafure  in 
jhis  mind,  with  which  he  flatters  his  expeftation. 
He  that  travels  in  theory  has  no  inconvenience ; 
ihehaslhade  and  funfhine  at  his  difpofal,  and 
I  wherever  he  alights  finds  tables  of  plenty  and 
I  looks  of  gaiety.  Thefe  ideas  are  indulged  till 
I  the  day  of  departure  arrives,  the  chaife  is  called, 
I  and  the  progrefs  of  happinefs  begins. 

C  z  A  few 


li 


<!i  I 


!  ilil 


Mill 

! .  1 


1 '  mm 


i  I 


IIBiliii 


aB  THE  IDLER.  1^5^- 

*  A  few  miles  teach  him  the  fallacies  of  ima- 
gination. The  road  is  dufty,  the  air  is  fultry, 
the  horfes  are  lluggilh,  and  the  poftillion  bru- 
tal.  He  longs  for  the  time  of  dinner,  that  he 
may  eat  and  reft.  The  inn  is  crowded,  his 
orders  arc  neglefted,  and  nothing  remains  but 
that  he  devour  in  hafte  what  the  cook  has 
fpoiled,  and  drive  on  in  queft  of  better  en- 
tertainment. He  finds  at  night  a  more  commo- 
dious houfe,  but  the  beft  is  always  worfe  than 
be  expe£lcd. 

He  at  laft  enters  his  native  province,  and  rc- 
folves  to  feaft  his  mind  with  the  converfatlon  of 
his  old  friends,  and  the  recolleaion  of  juvenile 
frolicks.  He  ftops  at  the  houfe  of  his  friend, 
whom  he  defigns  to  overpower  with  pleafure  by 
the  unexpeaed  interview.  He  is  not  known  till 
he  tells  his  name,  and  revives  the  memory  of 
himfelf  by  a  gradual  explanation.  He  is  then 
coldly  received,  and  ceremonioufly  feafted. 
He  liaftes  away  to  another,  whom  his  affairs 
have  called  to  a  diftant  place,  and  having  feen 
the  empty  houfe,  goes  away  difgufted,  by  a  dif- 
appointment  which  could  not  be  intended  be- 
caufe  it  could  not  be  forefeen.  .At  the  next 
houfe  he  finds  every  face  clouded  with  mis- 
fortune, and  is  regarded  with  malevolence  as 
an    unreafonable   intruder,   who  comes   not  to 

vifit  but  to  infiilt  them. 

It 


I^«5^.   .  THE  IDLER.  29 

• 

Ife  is  feldom  that  we  find  either  men  or  places 
fuch  as  we  exped  tiiem.  He  that  has  pictured 
a  profpe6t  upon  his  fancy,  will  receive  little 
pleafurc  from  his  eyes ;  he  that  has  anticipated 
the  converfation  of  a  wit,  will  wonder  to  what 
prejudice  he  owes  his  reputation.  Yet  it  is 
neceflfary  to  hope,  though  hope  fliould  always  be 
deluded  ;  for  hope  itlelf  is  happinefs,  and  its 
fruftrations,  however  frequent,  are  yet  h{s 
dreadful  than  its  extinftion. 


^^^^i's.9^m^r^>^^^.^^.^i:.f^9^^^4:. 


KuMB.  59,     Saturday,  June  2,  1759, 

IN  the  common  enjoyments  of  life  we  can- 
not very  liberally  indulge  the  prefent  hour, 
but  by  anticipating  part  of  the  pleafure  which 
might  have  relieved  the  tedioufnefs  of  another 
day  ;  and  any  uncommon  exertion  of  ftrcngth, 
or  perfeverance  in  labour,  is  fucceeded  by  a  long 
interval  of  languor  and  wearincfs.  Whatever 
advantage  we  fnatch  beyond  the  certain  portion 
allotted  ns  by  nature,  is  like  money  fpent  be- 
fore it  is  due,  which  at  the  time  of  regular  pay- 
ment will  be  milled  and  rejjretted. 

Fame,  like  all  other  things    which  are  fup- 

■  poled  to  give  or  to  increafe  happinefs,  is  difpenfed 

with  the  fame  equahty  of  dilVribution.     He  that 

is  loudly  praifed  will  be  clamoroufly  cenfured  ; 

C  3  he 


30  THE  IDLER.  N''59. 

he  that  rifcs  haftily  into  fame  will  be  in  dan- 
ger of  finking  fuddcnly  into  oblivion. 

Of  many  writers  who  filled  their  age  with 
wonder,  and  whofe  names  we  find  celebrated 
in  the  books  of  their  contemporaries,  the  works 
arc  now  no  longer  to  be  fcen,  or  arc  fecn 
only  amidft  the  lumber  of  libraries  which  are 
feldom  vifited,  where  they  lie  only  to  Ihew 
the  deceitfulncfs  of  hope,  and  the  uncertainty 
of  honx)ur. 

Of  the  decline  qf  reputation  many  caufes 
may  be  afligned.  It  is  commonly  loft  becaufc 
it  never  was  dcferved  ;  and  was  conferred  at 
firft,  not  by  the  fufFrage  of  criiicifm,  but  by 
the  fondnefs  of  friendlhip,  or  fcrvility  of  flat- 
tery. The  great  and  popular  arc  very  freely 
applauded  ;  but  all  foon  grow  weary  of  echo- 
ing to  eajch  other  a  name  which  has  no  other 
claim  to  notice,  but  that  many  mouths  arc  pro- 
nouncing it  at  once. 

But  many  have  loft  the  final  reward  of  their 
labours,  becaufe  they  were  too  hafty'to  enjoy  it. 
'^I'hey  ha.c  laid  hold  on  recent  occurrences  and 
eminent  names,-  and  delighted  their  readers  with 
allufions  and  remarks,  in  which  all  were  inter- 
cfted,  and  to  which  all  therefore  were  attentive. 
Eut  the  efFedt  ceafed  with  its  caufe  ;  the  tim« 
quickly  came  when  new  events  drove  the  former 
from  memory,  when  the  viciflitudes  of  the 
world  brought  new  hopes  and  fears,  transferred 


liii; 


N**^. 


THE  IDLER. 


3* 


the  love  and  hatred  of  the  publick  to  other  agents ; 
and  the  viricer,  whofe  works  were  no  longer  af- 
fifted  by  gratitude  or  refcntmcat,  was  left  to  the 
cold  regard  of  idle  curiofity. 

He  that  writes  upon  general  principles,  or 
delivers  univerfal  truths,  may  hope  to  be  often 
read,  bccaufc  his  work  will  be  equally  ufcful  at 
all  times  and  in  every  couiitry  j  but  he  cannot 
cxpeft  it  to  be  received  with  eagerncfs,  or  to 
fpread  with  rapidity,  becaufe  dcfire  can  have 
no  particular  ftimulation  ;  that  which  is  to  be 
loved  long  muft  be  loved  with  realbn  rather 
than  with  paflion.  He  that  lays  out  his  labours 
upon  temporary  fubje£ls,  cafily  finds  rcadcisi 
and  qpickly  lofcs  them ;  for  what  (liould  make 
the  book  valued  when  its  fubjcdt  is  no  more  ? 

Thefe  obfervations  will  (hew  the  reafon  why 
the  Poem  oi  Hud'tbras  isalmoft  forgoit^n,  how- 
ever embellifhed  with  fentiments  and  divcrfified 
with  allulions,  however  bright  with  wit,  and 
however folid  with  truth.  The  hypocrify  which 
it  detefted,  and  the  folly  which  it  ridipulcd,  have 
long  vanilhed  from  public  notice.  Thofe  who 
had  felt  the  mifchief  ofdifcord,  and  the  tyranny 
ofufurpation,  read  it  with  rapture,  for  every  line 
brought  back  to  memory  fomething  known,  and 
gratified  refentmcnt  by  the  juftcen lure  of  fome- 
thing hated.  But  the  book  which  was  once 
quoted  by  Princes,  and  which  fupplicd  conver- 

C  4  fation 


;.  !i  ■ 


till 


I     I 


i^llt 


m 


i  I 


m\H 


mi 


St  THE    IDLER,  N"  5^. 

ration  to  all  the  alTcmblics  of  the  gay  and  witty. 
1?  now  felclom  mentioned,  and  even  by  thole 
that  affca  to  mention,  it  is  feldom  read.  So 
vaniiy  is  wit  lavifho<i  upon  fugitive  topics,  fo 
iittle  can  architeaure  fccuie  duration  \yhcn  the 
ground  is  falfc. 

Numb.  60.      Saturday,  yum  9,   1759, 

CRITICISM  is  a  ftudy  by  which  men 
grow  important  and  formidable  at  very 
fmaJl  expcnce.  The  power  of  invention  has 
been  conferred  by  Nature  upon  few,  and  the 
labour  of  learning  thofe  fciences  which  may  by 
mere  labour  be  obtained  is  too  great  to  be  wil- 
lingly endured;  but  every  man  can  exert  fuch 
judgment  as  he  has  upon  the  works  of  others  ; 
and  he  whom  Nat^re  has  made  weak,  and  Idle- 
udi  keeps  ignorant,  may  yet  fiipport  his  vanity 
by  the  name  of  a  Critick. 

I  hope  it  will  give  comfort  to  great  numbers 
Avlio  are  paifing  through  the  world  in  obllurity, 
when  I  inform  them  how^eafily  diftinaion  may 
be  obtained.  All  the  other  powers  of  literature 
are  coy  and  haughty;  they  muft  be  long  courted, 
and  at  laft  are  not  ahvays  gained  ;  butCriticifn^ 
is  a^oddefscafy  of  accefs,  ?ndforward  of  advance, 

who, 


who   V 


THE    IDLER. 


33 


will  meet  the  (Ibw,  and  encourage  the 
timorous  ;  the  want  of  meaning  fhe  fupplies 
with  words,  and  the  want  of  fpirit  Ihc  rccom- 
penfes  witli  malignity. 

This  profelfion  has  one  recommendation  pc- 
cuHar  to  itfclf,  that  it  gives  vent  to  malignity 
without  real  mifchief.  No  genius  was  ever 
blalled  by  the  breath  of  Criticks.  The  polfoii 
which,  if  confined,  would  have  burft  the  heart, 
fumes  away  in  empty  hiflcs,  and  malice  is  fct  at 
eafc  with  very  little  danger  to  merit.  The 
Critick  is  the  only  man  whofe  triuwiph  is  with' 
out  another's  pain,  and  whofe  grcataefs  does  not 
rife  upon  another's  ruin. . 

To  a  fludy  at  once  fo  eafy  and  fo  reputable, 
fo  malicious  and  fo  harmlcfs,  it  cannot  be  nc- 
ceflary  to  invite  my  readers  by  a  long  or  laboured 
exhortation  ;  it  is  fufficient,  fince  all  would  be 
Criticks  if  thty  could,  to  Ihew  by  one  eminent 
example  that  all  can  be  Criticks  if  they  will. 

Dick  Minim,  after  the  common  courfe  of  pue- 
rile iludies,  In  which  he  was  no  great  proficient, 
was  put  apprentice  to  a  Brewer,  wi-th  whom  he 
had  lived  two  years,  when  his  uncle  died  m  the 
city,  and  left  him  a  large  fortune  in  the  Hocks. 
Dick  h?id  for  fjx  months  before  ufed  the  com- 
pnny  of  the  lower  players,  of  whom  he  had 
learned  to  fcornatrade,  and  being  now  at  liberty 
to  follow  his  genius,  he  refolvcd  to  be  a  man  of 
wit  and  humour.     That  h'emight  be  properly 

^5.  initiated^ 


mm 


III 


\    r::!if; 


!  ! 


I '  i 


f    !  !l 


34  THE  IDLER.  N*  60;^ 

initiated  in  his  new  chara£ler^  he  frequented  tlie 
coffee-houfes  near  the  theatres,  where  he  liftened 
very  diligently,  day  after  day,  to  thofe  who 
talked  of  language  and  fcntiment,  and  unities 
and  cataftrophes,  till  by  flow  degrees  he  began 
to  think  that  he  underftood  fonaething  of  the 
Stage,  and  hoped  in  thue  to  talk  himfelf. 

But  he  did  not  truft  fo  much  to  natural  fa.* 
gacity,  as  wholly  to  negleft  the  help  of  books. 
When  the  Theatres  were  (hut,  he  retired  to 
Richmond  with  a  few  fele£l  writers,  whofe  opi- 
nions he  imprefled  upon  his  memory  by  unwea.- 
ried  diligence ;  and,,  when  he  returned  with 
other  wits  to  the  town,  was  able  to  tell,  in  very 
proper  phrafes,  that  the  chief  bufinefs  of  art  is 
to  copy  nature  ;  that  a  perfedl  writer  is  not  x^y 
be  expe£led,  becaufe  genius  decays  as  judgment 
increafes  ;  that  the  great  art  is  the  art  of  blotr 
ting  ;  and  that,  according  to  the  rule  of  Harace^ 
every  piece  (hould  be  kept  nine  years. 

Of  the  great  Authors  he  now  began  to  dif- 
play  the  Charaflers,  laying  down,  as  an  univer- 
fal  pofition,  that  all  had  beauties  and  defers. 
His  opinion  was,  that  Shake/pear^  committing 
himfelf  wholly  to  the  impulfe  of  Nature,  wanted 
that  'corre^lnefs  which  learning  would  have 
given  him  j  and  that  Jonfon^  trulling  to  learning, 
did  not  iiafficiently  call  his  eye  on  Nature. 
He  blamed  the  Stanza  of  Spenfer^  and  could  not 
bear  the  Haameurs  of  Sidney,     Dtnham  asd 

Wallet 


retifwu   to 


Weo,  THE  IDLER.  35 

/Va/ier  he  held  the  firft  reformers  of  Engll/h 
Numbers  i  and  thought  that  if  IValler  could 
have  obtained  the  ftrength  of  Denham^  or  Den- 
ham  the  fweetnefs .  of  fValUry  there  had  been 
nothing  wanting  to  complete  a  Poet.  He  often  • 
exprefled  his  commiferation  of  Dryderi's  pover- 
ty, and  his  indignation  at  the  age  which  fufFcr- 
ed  him  to  write  for  bread  ;  he  repeated  with  rap- 
ture the  firft  lines  of  ////er  Love^  but  wondered 
at  the  corruption  of  taftc  which  could  bear  any 
thing  fo  unnatural  as  rhym.ing  tragedies.  In 
Otway  he  found  Uncommon  powers  of  moving 
the  paffions,  but  was  difgufted  by  his  general 
negligence,  and  blamed  him  for  making  a  Con- 
fpirator  his  Hero  ;  and  never  concluded  his  dif- 
quifition,  without  remarking  how  happily  the 
found  of  the  clock  is  made  to  alarm  the  au- 
dience. Southern  would  have  been  his  faVourite, 
but  that  he  mixes  comick  with  tragick  fceues, 
intercepts  the  natural  courfe  of  the  paffions, 
and  fills  the  mind  with  a  wild  confulion  of  mirth 
and  melancholy.  The  verfification  of  Roue 
he  thought  too  melodious  for  the  llage,  and  too 
little  varied  in  different  paffions.  He  made  it 
the  great  fault  oi  Congreve,  that  all  his  perfon^ 
were  wits,  and  that  he  always  wrote  with  more 
art  than  nature.  He  confidered  Cato  rather  as 
a  poem  than  a  play,  and  allowed  Addifon  to  be 
the  complete  mailer  of  Allegory  and  grave  hu- 
mour, but  p^id  no  great  deference  to  him  as  a 

C  6  •  Critick.' 


'i\' 


■  i  i 


36  THE  IDLER.  N' 60. 

Critick.  He  thought  the  chief  merit  of  Prior 
was  in  his  eafy  tales  and  lighter  poems,  though 
he  allowed  that  his  Solomon  had  many  noble  fen- 
tinients  elegantly  exprelTed.  In  Swl/i  he  difco- 
vered  an  inimitable  vein  of  irony,  and  an  eali* 
nels  which  all  would  hope,  and  few  would  at- 
tain. PiJ/zf  he  was  inclined  to  degrade  from  a 
Poet  to  a  Veriifier,  and  thought  his  numbers 
rather  lufcious  than  fweet.  He  often  lamented 
the  neglect  of  Phcvdra  and  Hippo  Hi  w^,  and  wi  Hi- 
ed to  fee  the  ftage  under  better  regulations. 

Thefe  affctions  pafTed  commonly  uncon- 
tradicted ;  and  if  now  and  then  an  opponent 
.fiarted  up,  he  was  quickly  reprelTcdr  by  the  fuf- 
liages  of  the  company,  and^'^//«///j  went  away 
from  every  difpute  with  elation  of  heart  and  tn.- 
creafe  of  confidence. 

He  now  grew  confcious  of  his  abilities,  and 
began  to  talk  of  the  prefent  flate  of  Dramaticlc 
Poetry  ;  wondered  what  was  become  of  the  co- 
mick  genius  which  fupplied  our  anceflors  with, 
wit  and  pleafantry,  and  why  no  wriser  could  be 
found  that  durft  now  venture  beyond   a  Farce. 
He  faw  no  reafon  for  thinking  that  the  vein' of 
humour  was   exhautted,    ihicc    we    live    in  a 
country  where  liberty  fuffcrs  every  character  to 
fpread  itfelf  to  its  Utmoft  bulk,  and  which  there- 
fore produces  more  originals  than  all  the  reft  of 
the  world  together.     Of  Tragedy  he  concluded 
bufinefs  to  be  the  fouJ,    and  yet  .often  hinted 


N°6o.  THE    IDLER.  37^ 

that  love  predominates  too  much   upon    the 
modern  ftage. 

He  was  now  an  acknowledged  Critick,  and 
had  his  own  feat  in  a  cofFee-houfe,  an^  headed- 
a  party  in  the  pit.  Minim  has  more  vanity  thati 
ill-nature,  and  feldom  defires  to  do  much  mif- 
chief;  he  will  perhaps  murmur  a  little  in  the 
ear  of  him  that  fits  next  him,  but  endeavours 
to  influence  the  audience  to  favour,  by  clapping; 
when  an  a6tor  exclaims  Te  Gods,  or  laments  the 
mifery  of  his  country. 

By  degrees  he  was  admitted  to  Rehearfals  ;  and 
many  of  his  friends  are  of  opinion,  that  our 
prefent  Poets  are  indebted  to  him  for  their  hap- 
pieit  thoughts  ;  by  his  contrivance  the  bell  was 
rung  twice  in  Barharojfa  ;  and  by  his  perfualion 
the  author  of  Clcone  concluded  his  Play  without 
a  couplet;  for  what  can  be  more  abfurd,  faid 
Mlnimy  than  that  part  of  a  play  fhould  be 
rhymed,  and  part  written  In  blank  verfe  ?  and 
by  what  acquiiition  of  faculties  is  the  Speaker, 
who  never  cou-ld  find  rhymes  before,  enabled  to 
rhyme  at  the  conclufion  of  an  a£i  ? 

He  is  the  great  inveftigator  of  hidden  beau- 
tics,  and  is  particularly  delighted  when  he  finds 
the  Sound  an  Echo  to  the  Senfe,  He  has  read  all  our 
Poets  with  particular  attention  to  this  delicacy  of 
Verfification,  and  wonders  at  the  fupinenefs 
with  which  their  Works  have  been  hitherto  pc- 
rufed,  fo  that  no  man  has  found  the  found  of  a 
Drum  in  this  diflich ; 

«  When 


:ii  Hi'' 


! 


38^  THE  IDLER. 

««  When  Pulpit,  Drum  ecclefiaftic^ 

"  Was  beat  with  lift  inftead  of  a  ftick  j** 


]S°6o. 


and  that  the  wonderful  lines  upon  Honour  and 
a  Bubble-have  hitherto  paffed  without  notice  : 

«  Honour  ir  like  the  glaffy  Bubble, 

"  Which  cofts  Philofophcrs  fuch  trouble; 

«*  Where  one  part  crack'dj  the  whole  does  fly^, 

"  And  Wits  arc  crack'd  to  find  out  why." 

In  thefe  Verfes,  fays  Minima  we  have  two  ftrik- 
ing  accommodations  of  the  Sound  to  the  Senfe. 
It  is  impoffible  to  utter  the  two  lines  emphati- 
cally witliout  an .  a£t  like  that  which  they  de- 
fcribe  ;  Bubh!e  and  Tr^«^/e  cauling  a  momentary 
inflation  of  the  Cheeks  by  the. retention  of  the 
breath,  which  is  afterwards  forcibly  emitted,  as 
in  the  pradice  oi blowing  bubbles.  But  the  greateft 
excellence  is  in  the  third  line,  which  is  crack'd  in 
the  middle  to  exprefs  a  crack,  and  then  (hi vers 
into  monofyllables.  Yet  has  this  diamond  lain 
negle£led  with  common  flones  5  and  among  the 
innumerable  admirers  of  Hudibras  the  obferva- 
tion  of  this  fuperlative  paflage  has  been  referved 
for  the  fagacity  of  iW/wOT. 


Numb. 


N°6i- 


THE   IDlLER. 


39^ 


Numb.  6i.    Saturday,  7«»*  i6,  1759. 


MR.  Mimm  had  now  advanced  himfelf  to 
the  zenith  of  critical  reputation;  when 
he  was  in  the  Pit,  every  eye  in  the  Boxes  was 
fixed  upon  him  ;  when  he  entered  his  CofFee- 
houfe,  he  was  furrounded  by  circles  of  candi- 
dates, who  pafled  their  noviciate  of  literature 
^nder  his  tuition  ;  his  opinion  was  aflced  by  ail 
who  had  no-  opinion  of  their  own,  and  yet 
loved  to  debate  and  decide  ;  and  no  compofition 
was  fuppofed  to  pafs  in  fafety  to  pofterity,  till 
it  had  been  fecured  by  Minimis  approbation. 

Minim  profefles  great  admiration  of  the 
wifdom  and  munificence  by  which  'the  Aca- 
demies of  the  continent  were  raifed,  and  often 
wi(hes  for  fome  flandard  of  tafte,  for  fome  tri- 
bunal, to  which  merit  may  appeal  from  caprice, 
prejudice,  and  malignity.  He  has  formed  a  plan 
for  an  Academy  of  Criticifm,  where  every  work 
of  Imagination  may  be  read  before  it  is  printed, 
and  which  (hall  authoritatively  direft  the  The^ 
atres  what  pieces  to  receive  or  rcjeft,  to  exclude 
or  to  revive. 

Such  an- inftitution  would,  in  Dick^s  opinion, 
fpread  the  fame  oiBngliJh  Literature  over  Europe^ 
and  make  London  the  metropolis  of  elegance  and 
politenefs,  the  place  to  which  the  learned  and 
ingenious  of  all  countries  would  repair  for  in- 

ftruflion 


w ;. 


:.i 


f 


i! 


I;      :lll 


40  THE  IDLER.  N'6i. 

ftruftion  and  improvement,  and  where  nothing 
would  any  longer  be  applauded  or  endured  tha° 
was  not  conformed  to  the  niceft  rules,  and 
finilhed  with  the  higheft  elegance. 

Till  fomc  happy  conjundion  of  the  planets 
Ihall  difpofe  our  Princes  or  Miniftcrs  to  make 
themfelves  immortal  bv  fuch  an  Academy, 
Mnim  contents  himfe)  .-..  -refide  four  nights 
in  a  week  in  a  Critical  Sou.cty  fele^ed  by  him- 
fdf,  where  he  is  heard  without  contradiction, 
and  whence  his  judgement  is  difleminated 
tlirough  the  great  vulgar  and  the  fmaii. 

When  he  is  placed  in  the  chair  of  Criticifm, 
he  declares  loudly  for  the  noble  fimplicity  of 
our  anccllors,  in  oppofition  to  the  petty  refine- 
ments,  and  ornamental  luxuriance.     Sometimes 
he  is  funk  in  defpair,  and  perceives  falfe  delicacy 
daily  gaimng  ground  ;  and  fometimes  brightens 
his  countenance  with  a  gleam  of  hope,  and  pre- 
dias  the  revival  of  the  true  fublime.     He  then 
fiilminates    his   loudeft    cenfures     againft     the 
monkilh   barbarity  of  rhyme ;    wonders    how 
beings  that  pretend  to  reafon  can  be  pleafed  with 
one  line  always  ending  like  another  ;  tells  how 
unjulliy  and  unnaturally  fenfe  is   facrificed    to 
found ;  how  often  the  beft  thoughts  are  mangled 
by  the  neceflity  of  confining  or  extending  them 
to  the  dimenfions  of  a  couplet ;    and   rejoices 
that  genius  has,  in   our  days,  fhaken   oif  the 
Ihackles   which  had    encumbeix;d   it  fo   long* 
-  Yet 


N=6i.  THE    IDLER.  41 

Yet  he  allows  that  rhyme  may  fometimes  be 
borne,  if  the  lines  be  often  broken,  and  the 
paufes  judicioufly  divcrlificd. 

From  Blank  Verfc  he  makes  an  eafy  traniition 
to  MilioTiy  whom  he  produces  as  an  example  of 
the  flow  advance  of  lading  reputation.  M'tltm 
is  the  only  writer  in  whofe'  books  Minim  can 
read  for  ever  without  wearinefs.  What  caufe  it 
is  that  exempts  this  pleafure  from  fatiety  he  has 
long  and  diligently  enquired,  and  beheves  it  to 
coniift  in  the  perpetual  variation  of  the  numbers 
by  which  the  car  is  gratified  and  the  attention 
awakened.  The  lines  that  are  commonly  thought 
rugged  and  unmuiical,  he  conceives  to  have 
been  written  to  temper  the  melodious  luxury  of 
the  reft,  ox  to  cxpr&fs  things  by  a  proper  ca». 
dence  :  fox  he  fcarccly  finds  a  vcrfe  that  has  not 
this  favourite  beauty  ;  he  declares  that  he  could 
ihiver  in  a  hot-houfe,  when  he  reads  that 

**  the  ground 
*'  Burns  frore^    and  coW  performs   th*  efFed  of 
**firei" 

and  that,  vfhcnMilton  bewails  his  blindnefs, the 

verfe    •  ' 


"  So  thick  adropferene  has  quench'd  thefe  orbs** 

has,  he  knows  not  how,  fomething  that  ftrikes 
him  with  ai\  obfcure  fenfatioa  like  that  which 

he- 


!i 


4t  THE  IDLER.  N**  6r. 

he  fancies  would  be  felt  from  the  found  of  Dark- 

nefs. 

Minim  is  not  fo  confident  of  his  rules  of 
Judgement  as  not  very  eagerly  to  catch  new 
light  from  the  name  of  the  author.  He  is 
commonly  fo  prudent  as  to  fpare  thofe  whom  he 
cannot  refift,  unlefe,  as  will  fometimes  happen^ 
he  find's  the  publick  combined  againft  them. 
But  a  frelh  pretender  to  fame  he  is  flrongly  in- 
clined to  cenfure,  till  his  own  honour  requires 
that  he  commend  him.  Till  he  knows  the  fuc* 
cefs  of  a  compofition»  he  intrenches  Wimfelf  in 
general  tenns;  there  are  fome  new  thoughts 
and  beautiful  paflages  ;  but  there  is  likewifc 
much  which  he  would  have  advifed  the  author 
to  expunge.  He  has  feveral  favourite  epithets, 
of  which  he  has  never  fettled  the  meaning, 
but  which  are  very  commodioufly  applied  to 
books  which  he  has  not  read^  or  cannot  under^ 
ftand.  One  is  manly,  another  is  tiry,  another 
Jiiffl  and  another //w^  J  fometimes  he  dif- 
covers  delicacy  of  ftylc,  and  fometimes  meets 
withjirangi  exfrej/i&ns. 

Ue  is  never  fo.  great,  or  fo  happy,  as  when 
a  youth  of  promifing  parts  is  brought  to  re- 
ceive his  direftions  for  the  profecution  of  Kis 
fUidies.  He  then  puts  on  a  very  feriousair; 
he  advifes  the  pupil  to  read  none  but  the  beft 
Authors ;.  and,    when  he  fipds  one  congcmal 

t» 


N*6i.  THE    IDLER.     •  4^ 

to  his  own  mind,  to  ftudy  his  beauties,  but 
aroid  his  faults  ;  and,  when  he  fits  down  to 
write,  to  confider  how  his  favourite  Author 
would  think  at  the  prefent  time  on  the  prefent 
occaiion.  He  exhorts  him  to  catch  thofe 
moments  when  he  finds  his  thoughts  expanded 
and  his  genius  exalted  ;  but  to  take  care  left 
imagination  hurry  him  beyond  the  bounds  of 
Nature.  He  holds  Diligence  the  mother  of 
Succefs :  yet  enjoins  him,  with  great  earneft- 
nefs,  not  to  read  more  than  he  can  digeil,  and 
not  to  confufe  his  mind  by  purfuing  Audies  of 
contrary  tendencies.  He  tells  him,  that  every 
man  has  his  genius,  and  that  Cicero  could  never 
be  a  Poet.  The  boy  retires  illuminated,  re- 
folves  to  follow  his  genius,  and  to  think  how 
Milton  would  *have  thought :  and  Minim  feails 
upon  his  own  beneficence  till  another  day  bringi 
another  Pupil, 


Numb* 


ri  liiril 


44 


THE  IDLER, 


N»62. 


Numb.  62.    Saturday,  Jum  23,  lysg..* 


To    the    IDLE  R. 


Sir, 

AN  opinion  prevails  almoft  univerfally  in 
the  world,  that  he  who  has  money  has 
every  thing.  This  is  not  a  modern  paradox^ 
or  the  tenet  of  a  fmall  and  obfcure  fe^,  but" 
a  perfuafion  which  appears  to  have  operated 
upon  moft  minds  in  all  ages,  and  which  is 
fupported  by  authorities  fo  numerous  and 
fa  cogent,  tliat  notliing  but  long  experience 
could  have  given  mc  confidence  to  queftion 
its  truth. 

But  Experience  is  the  teft  by  which  all 
the  Philofophers  of  the  prefent  age  agree,  that 
Speculation  muft  be  tried  }  and  I  may  be  there- 
fore allowed  to  doubt  the  power  of  money,  fince 
I  have  been  a  long  time  rich,  and  have  not 
yet  found  that  riches  can  make  me  happy. 

My  father  was  a  farmer,  neither  wealthy  nor 
indigent,  who  gave  me  a  better  education  than 
was  fuitable  to  my  birth,  becaufe  my  uncle  in 
the  city  defigned  me  for  his  heir,  and  delired 
that  I  might  be  bred  a  Gentleman.  My  un- 
cle's wealth  was  the  perpetual  fubjed  of  conver- 

fatioii 


1^062.  THE  IDLER.  4^ 

fation  in  the  houfe  ;  and  when  any  little  mis- 
fortune befell  us,  or  any  mortification  dejefted 
us,  my  father  always  exhorted  me  to  hold  up 
my  head,  for  my  uncl6  would  never  marry. 

My  uncle,  indeed,  kept  his  promife.  Hav- 
ing his  mind  completely  bufied  between  his 
warehoufe  and  the  'Change,  he  felt  no  tediouf- 
nefs  of  life,  nor  any  want  of  domeftic  amufe* 
merits.  When  my  father  died,  he  received  me 
kindly ;  but,  after  a  few  months,  finding  no 
great  pleafure  in  the  converfation  of  each  other, 
we  parted  ;  and  he  remitted  me  a  fmall  annuity, 
on  which  I  lived  a  quiet  and  iludious  life,  with- 
out any  wifh  to  grow  great  by  the  death  of  my 
benefa£ior. 

But  though  I  never  fuffered  any  malignant  im- 
patience to  take  hold  on  my  mind,  1  could  not 
forbear  fometimes  to  imagine  to  myfelf  the  plea- 
fure of  being  rich  ;  and,  when  I  read  of  diver- 
fions  and  magnificence,  refolvcd  to  try,  when 
time  fliould  put  the  trial  in  my  power,  what 
pleafure  they  could  afford. . 

My  uncle,  in  the  latter  fpring  of  his  life,  when 
his  ruddy  cheek  and  his  firm  nerves  promifed 
him  a  long  and  healthy  age,  died  of  an  apoplexy* 
His  death  gave  me  neither  joy  nor  forrow.  He 
did  me  good,  and  .1  regarded  hrm  with  grati- 
tude ;  but  I  could  not  pleafe  him,  and  therefore 
could  not  love  him. 

4  .He 


'  -m 


r  .  I' 


45  THE  IDLER.  N^' 6a. 

He  had  the  policy  of  little  minds,  who  love 
to  furprize  ;  and,  having  always  rcprcfentcd  his 
fortune  as  Icfs  than  it  was,  had,  I  fuppofc,  often 
gratified  himfcif  with  thinking,  how  I  fliould  be 
delighted  to  find  myfclf  twice  as  rich  as  I  cx- 
pcftcd.  My  wealth  was  fuch  as  exceeded  all  the 
fchemes  of  expcnce  which  I  had  formed  ;  and  I 
foon  began  to  expand  my  thoughts,  and  look 
round  for  fomc  purchafc  of  felicity. 

ThemoftftrikingefFca  of  riches  is  the  fplcn- 
dour  of  drefs,  which  every  man  has  obferved  to 
enforce  refpeft,  and  facilitate  reception  ;  and  my 
firft  dcfire  was  to  be  fine.  I  fent  for  a  taylor 
who  was  employed  by  the  Nobility,  and  ordered 
fuch  a  fuit  of  cloaths  as  1  had  often  looked  on 
with  involuntary  fubmiflion,  and  am  afhamed 
to  remember  with  what  flutters  of  expeaation  I 
waited  for  the  how  when  I  fhould  iffue  forth  in 
all  the  fplendour  of  embroidery.  The  cloaths 
were  brought,  and  for  three  days  I  obferved 
many  eyes  turned  towards  me  as  1  paffed  :  but  I 
felt  myfelf  obftrufted  in  the  common  intercourfe 
of  civility  by  an  uneafy  confcioufnefs  of  my 
new  appearance.  As  I  thought  myfelf  more  ob- 
served, I  was  more  anxious  about  my  mien  and 
behaviour ;  and  the  mien  which  his  formed  by 
care  is  commonly  ridiculous.  A  Ihort  time  ac- 
cuftomed  me  to  myfelf,  and  my  drcfs  was  with- 
out pain,  and  without  pleafurc. 

For 


[iq''6a.  THE  IDLER.  47 

For  a  little  while  I  tried  to  be  a  Rake,  but  I 
began  too  late  ;  and  having  by  nature  no  turn  for 
a  froHck,  was  in  great  danger  of  ending  in  a 
Drunkard.  A  fever,  in  which  not  ouc  of  my 
companions  paid  me  a  vidt,  gave  me  time  for  re- 
fle£tion.  I  found  that  there  was  no  great  plea- 
fure  in  breaking  windows  and  lying  in  the 
Round-houfe  ;  andrefolved  to  aflbciate  no  longer 
with  thofe  whom,  though  I  had  treated  andbailed 
them,  I  could  not  make  friends. 

I  then  changed  my  meafures,  kept  running- 
horfes,  and  had  the  comfort  of  feeing  my  n.^me 
very  often  in  the  news.     I  had  a  chefnut  horfc, 
the  grandfon  of  Cbtldgrs^  who  won  four  plates, 
and  ten  by-matches ;  and  a  bay  filly,  who  car- 
ried off  the  five-years-old  plate,  and  was  ex- 
pected to  perform  much  greater  exploits,  when 
my  groom  broke  her  wind,  becaufe  I  happened 
to  catch  him  felling  oats  for  beer.     This  happi- 
nefs  was  foon  at  an  end  ;  there  was  no  pleafurc 
when  I  loft,  and  when  I  won  I  could  not  much 
exalt  myfelf  by  the  virtues  of  my  horfe.    I  grew 
afhamed  of  the  company  of  Jockey  Lords,  and 
lefolved  to  fpend  no  more  of  my  time  in  the 
Stable. 

It  was  now  known  that  I  had  money  and 
would  fpend  it ;  and  1  paffed  four  months  in  the 
company  of  Architeas,  whofe  whole  bullnefs 
was  to  perfuade  me  to  build  a  houfe.  I  told  theni 
that  I  had  more  room  than  I  wanted,  but  could 

not 


48  THE   IDLER.  N»  62. 

not  get  rid  of  their  importunities.  A  new  plan 
was  brought  me  every  morning ;  till  at  laft  my 
conftancy  was  overpowerd,  and  I  began  to  build. 
The  happinefs  of  building  lafted  but  a  little 
while,  for  though  I  love  to  fpend,  1  hate  to  be 
cheated  ;  and  I  foon  found,  that  to  build  is  to 
be- robbed. 

How  I  proceed  in  the  purfuit  of  happinefs, 
you  Ihall  hear  when  I  find  myfelf  difpofed  to 

write. 

I  am,   Sir,   he, 

Tim.  Ranger* 

>     •  «  - 


Numb.  63.    Saturday,  June  ^o,  1759, 

TH  E  natural  progrefs  of  the  works  of  men 
ik  from  rudenefs  to  convenience,  from 
convenience  to  elegance,  and  from  elegance  to 
nicety. 

The  firft  labour  is  enforced  by  neceflity.  Thd 
favage  finds  himfelf  incommoded  by  heat  and 
cold,  by  rain  and  wind  ;  he  fhelters  himfelf  in 
the'  hollow  of  *a  rock,  and  learns  to  dig  a  cave 
where  there  was  none  before.  He  finds  the  furi 
and  the  wind  excluded  by  the  thicket ;  and  when 
the  accidents  of  the  chace,  or  the  convenience 
of  paflurage,  leads  him  into  more  open  places,  he 

fryfryyo 


N-63.  THE  IDLER.  4^ 

forms  a  thicket  for  liimfelf,  by  planting  flakes  at 
proper  diftances,  and  laying  branches  from  one 
to  another* 

The  next  gradation  of  Ikill  and  induftry  pro- 
^uces  a  lioufe,  clofed  with  doors,  and  divided 
by  partitions ;  and  apartments  are  multiplied  and 
difpofed  according  to  the  various  degrees  of 
power  or  invention ;  improvement  fuccecds  im* 
provement,  as  he  tfiat  is  freed  from  a  greateif 
evil  grows  impatient  of  a  lefs,  till  eafe  in  time  is 
advanced  to  pleafure. 

The  mind  fet  free  from  the  importunities  of 
natural  want,  gains  leifure  to  go  in  feach  of  fu^ 
perfiuous  gratifications,  and  adds  to  the  ufes  of 
habitation  the  delights  of  profpeft.  Then  be- 
gins the  reign  of  fymmetry  ;  orders  of  architec- 
ture are  invented,  and  one  part  of  the  edifice  is 
conformed  to  another,  without  any  other  rca- 
fon  than  that  the  eye  may  not  be  offended. 

The  palTage  is  very  fhort  from  elegance  to 
luxury.  lonick  and  Corinthian  columns  arc  foon 
fucceeded  by  gilt  cornices,  inlaid  floors,  and 
petty  ornaments,  which  ihew  rather  the  wealth 
than  the  tafle  of  the  poflcflbr. 

Language  proceeds,  like  every  thing  tKe^ 
through  improvement  to  degeneracy.  The 
rovers  who  firfl  take  pofTefiion  of  a  country^ 
having  not  many  ideas,  and  thofe  not  nicely 
modified  or  difcrinainated,  were  contented  if  by 
generaUerms  and  abrupt  fentences  they  could    " 


T 


make 


i 


JO  THE  IDLER.  't^'*6p 

make  their  thoughts  known  to  one  another;  zt 
life  begins  to  be  more  regulated,  and  property 
to  become  limited,  difputes  muit  be  decided, 
Bnd  ^claims  adjuiled ;  the  differences  of  thiiigs 
are  noted,  and  diftinftnefs  and  propriety  of  ex- 
preffion  become  >neceflary.  In  time,  happinefs 
and  plenty  give  rife  to  curiofity,  and  tlie  fciences 
are  cultivated  for  eafe  and  pleafure  ;  to  the  nrts 
which  are  now  to  be  taught,  emulation  foon 
adds  the  art  of  teaching ;  and  the  iludious  and 
ambitious  contend  not  only  who  fhall  think 
Ijeft,  but  who  fhatl  tell  their  thoughts  in  the 
moft  pleafing  manner. 

Then  begin  the  arts  of  Rhetorick  and  Poetry^ 
the  regulation  of  figures,  the  feledion  ^f  wojds, 
the  modulation  of  periods,  the  graces  of 
tranfition,  the  complication  of  claufes,  and  all 
the  delicacies  of  ftyle  and  fubtilties  of  com- 
pofition,  ufeful  while  they  advance  perfpicuity, 
and  laudable  while  they  increafe  pleafure,  but 
cafy  to  be  refined  by  needlefs  fcrupulofity  till 
they  fhall  more  embarrafs  the  writer  than  aflifb 
tlie  reader  or  delight  him. 

The  firft  ftate  is  commonly  antecedent  to  the 
pra6tice  of  writing  ;  tlie  ignorant  eflays  of  im- 
perfect di^ion  pafs  away  witli  the  .favage  gener- 
ation that  uttered  them.  No  nation  can  trace 
their  language  beyond  the  feconu  period,  and 
-€ven  of  that  it  does  not  often  happen  tliat  many 
monuments  remain. 

.      Th<5 


N«^3-  THE  IDLER.  j^ 

The  late  of  the  EngUJh  tongue  is  like  that  of 
others.  We  know  nothing  of  the  fcanty  jargon 
of  our  barbarous  anceftors  4  but  we  have  fpeci« 
n:€ns  ol  our  language  when  it  began  to  be 
adapted  to  civil  and  religious  purpofes,  and  find 
it  fuch  as  might  naturally  be  expeaed,  artkfs 
and  fimple,  unconneftcd  and  concifc.  The 
writers  feem  to  have  defircd  little  more  than  to 
be  underllood,  and  perhaps  feWom  afpired  to 
the  praiie  of  pleafing.  Their  verfes  were  con- 
iidered  chiefly  as  memorial,  and  therefore  did 
not  differ  from  profe  but  by  the  meafure  or  the 
Thyme. 

In  this  flate,  varied  a  little  according  to  the 
different  purpofes  or  abilities  of  writers,  our 
language  may  be  faid  to  have  continued  to  the 
time  of  Gotuer,  whom  Chaucer  calls  his  mafter, 
and  who,  however  obfcured  by  his  fcholar's 
popularity,  feems  juftly  to  claim  the  honour 
which  lias  been  hitherto  denied  him,  of  (hewing 
his  countrymen  that  fomething  more  was  to  be 
defired,  and  that  Englijh  verfe  might  be  exalted 
into  poetry. 

From  the  time  of  Gowir  and  Chaucer,  the 
Efigli/h  writers  have  ftudied  elegance,  and  ad- 
vanced their  language,  by  fucceflive  improve- 
ments, to  as  much  harmony  as  it  can  eafily  re- 
ceive, and  as  much  copioufnefs  as  humpii  know- 
ledge has  hitherto  required.  Thefe  advances 
kavc  not  been  made  at  all  times  with  the  fame 

DA  J'lr 


gt  ^      THE  IDLER.  N»  63. 

diligence  or  the  fame  fuccefs.  Negligence  ha« 
fufpended  the  courfc  of  improvement,  or  affec- 
tation turned  it  alide ;  time  has  elapfed  witk 
little  change,  or  change  has  been  made  without 
amendment.  But  elegance  has  been  long  kept 
in  view  with  attention  as  near  to  conftancy  as 
life  permits,  till  every  man  now  endeavours  to 
excel  others  in  accuracy,  or  outfliine  them  ia 
fplendour  of  llyle  ;  and  the  danger  is,  left  care 
(hould  too  fooQ  pafs  to  affe£latioa. 

NujMB.  64*    Saturday,  Jw/j' 7^  1759. 
To  the  IT>LER. 


AS  nature  has  made  every  man  defirous  of 
bappinefs,  I  flatter  myfelf,  that  you  and 
your  readers  cannot  but  feel  forae  curiofity  to 
know  the  fequel  of  ray  flory  ;  for  though,  by 
trvino-  the  different  fchemes  ^f  pleafure,  I  have 
yet  found  nothing  in  which  1  could  fuially  ac- 
quiefce  j  yet  the  narrative  of  my  attempts  will 
not  be  wholly  without  ufe,  fince  we  always  ap- 
proach nearer  to  truth  as  we  deted  more  and 

more  varieties  of  error* 

When 


n'64r  THE   IDLER.  ^j 

MHien  I  had  fold  my  Racers,  and  put  the 
orders  of  Archi tenure  out  of  my  head,  my  next 
refolution  was  to  be  a  ^ne   Gentleman^    I  fre- 
quented the  polite  Coffee-houfes,  grew  acquaint- 
ed with  all   tlie   men   of  humour,  and  gained 
the  right  of  bowing  familiarly  to  half  the  no- 
bility.    In  this  new  fcene  of  life  my  great  labour 
was  to  learn  to  laugh.     I  had  been  ufed  to  con- 
fider  laughter  as  the  effed  of  merriment ;   but  I 
foon  learned  that  it  is  one  of  the  arts  of  adula^ 
tion;  and,  from  laughing  only  to  fhew  that  I 
was  pleafed,    I  now  began  to  laugh  whcn^  I 
wifhed  to  pleafe..    This  was  at  firft  very  diffi- 
cult.   I  fometimes  heard  the  ftory  with  dull  in« 
difference,  and,  not  exalting  myfelf  to  merri- 
ment  by  due  gradations,  burfl  out  fuddenlyinto 
an  aukward  noife,  which  was  not  always  favour- 
ably interpreted.     Sometimes  I  was  behind  the 
refl  of  the  company,  and  loft  the  grace  of  laugh- 
ing by  delay  ;  and  fometimes,  when  I  began  at 
the  right  time,  was  deficient  in  loudhefs  or   in 
length.    But,  by  diligent  imitation  of  the  beft 
models,  I  attained  at  laft  fuch  ilexibihty  of  muf- 
cles,  tliat  I  was  always   a  welcome  auditor  of 
aftory,  and  got  the  reputation  of  a  good-natured 
fellow. 

-  This  was  fomething  ;  but  much  more  was  tos 
be  done,  that  I  might  be  univerfally  allowed  to- 
be  a  fine  Gentleman.  I  appeared  at  Court  on 
all  publick  days  j   betted  at  gaming-tables,  and 


f  *"J' 


54  THE    IDLER.  N«  64. 

played  at  all  the  routs  of  eminence.  I  went 
every  night  to  the  Opera,  took  a  Fidler  of  dif- 
putedi  merit  under  my  proteftion^  became  the 
head  of  a  mufical  faf^ion,  and  had  fometimei 
Concerts  at  my  own  houfc.  I  once  thought  ta 
have  attained  the  higheft  rank  of  elegance,  by 
taking  a  foreign  finger  into  keeping.  But  my 
favourite  Fidler  contrived  to  be  arretted  on  the 
night  of  a  concert,  for  a  finer  fuit  of  cloaths- 
than  I  had  ever  prefumed  to  wear,  and  I 
loft  all  the  fame  of  Patronage  by  refufing  tx> 
bail  him. 

My  next  ambition  was  to  fit  for  my  Picture. 
I  fpent  a  whole  winter  in  gaing  from  Painter  to 
Painter,  to  befpeak  a  whole-length  of  one,  and 
a  half  length  of  another  ;  I  talked  of  nothing 
but  attitudes,  draperies,  and  proper  lights;  took 
my  friends  to  fee  the  pidures  after  every  fitting ; 
heard  every  day  of  a  wonderful  performer  in 
crayonsand  miniature,  and  fent  my  pictures  to  be 
copied  ;  was  told  by  the  judges  that  they  were  not 
like,  and  was  recommended  to  other  artifts. 
At  length,  being  not  able  to  pleafe  my  friends,  I 
grew  lels  pleafed  myfelf,  and  at  laft  refolved  to 
think  no  more  about  it. 

It  was  impolfible  to  live  in  total  idlenefs  : 
and  wandering  about  in  fearch  of  fomething  to 
do,  I  was  invited  to  a  weekly  meeting  of  Vir- 
tuofos,  and  felt  myfelf  inftantaneoufly  feizcd 
with  an  unextinguifhable  ardour  for  all  Natural 


N*^4i     .       THE   IDLER.  sg 

Curiofitics.  I  ran  from?  auction  to  auStTdtl, 
Became  a  Critic  in  Shells  and  Foffils,  bought  a 
Hortus  Jiccus  of  ineftimable  value,  and  purchafed 
a  fecret  art  of  preferving'  Infects,  which  made 
my  collection'  the  envy  of  the  other  Phiiofo^ 
phers,  I  found  thiffplcafure  mingled  with  much 
vexation.  AU  the  faults  of  my  life  were  for 
nine  months  circulated- through-  the  town- with 
the  moft  a£kiv«  malignity,  becaufe  1  happened 
to  catch  a  Moth  of  peculiar  variegation  ;  and  bew 
caufe  I  once  out- bid  all  the  Lovers  of  Shells  and 
carried  off  a  Nautilus,  it  was  hinted  that  the 
validity  of  my  Uncle's-  Will  ought  to  be  dif- 
puted.  I  will  not  deny  that  1  was  very  proud 
.  both  of  the  Moth  and  of  tlie  Shell,  and  gratified 
myfelf  with  the  envy  of  my  companions,^  pei> 
hap&-  mor«  than  became  a  benevolent  Being. 
But  iir  time  I  grew  weary  of  being  hated  for 
that  which  produced'  no  advantage,  gave  my 
Shells  to  children  that  wanted  play-things,  and 
fupprefled  the  art  oi  drying, Butterflies,  becaufe 
I  would  not  tempt  Idlencfs  and  Cruelty  to  kill 
them. 

I  now  began  to  feel  life  tedious,  and  wifhed 
to  ftore  myfelf  with  friends,  with  whom  I  might 
grow  old  in  th?  interchange  of  bettevolence.  I 
had  obferved  that  popularity  was  moft  eafily 
gained  by  an  open  table,  and  therefore  hired  a 
French  Cook,  furnilhed  my  fide-board  with 
great  magnificence,  filled  my  cellar  with  wines 

D  4_  of 


>- >ll 


,1 


1 '  II 


rl! 


S^  THE   IDLER.  K' 64. 

of  pompotis  appellations,  bought  every  thing  that 
was  dear  before  it  was  good,  and  invited  ail  thofe 
vvho  were  moft  famous  forjudging  of  a  dinner. 
In  three  weeks  my  Cook  gave  mc  warninT,  and, 
upon  enquiry,  told  me  that  Lord  ^ueajy,  who 
dined  with  me  the  day  before,  ha<i  fent  him  au 
offer  of  double  wages.     My  pride  prevailed,  I 
raifed  his  wages,  and  invited  his  Lordfhip  to 
another  feaft.     I  love  plain    meat,    and    was 
therefore  foon  weary  of  fpreading   a  table  of 
which  I  could  not  partake.     I  found  that  my 
guefts,  when  they  went  away,  criticifed  their  en- 
tertainment,   and  cenfured  my  profufion;  my 
Cook  thought  himfelfneceflary,  and  took  upon 
him  the  direaion  of  the  houfe  ;  and  I  could  not 
rid  myfelf  of  flatterers,  or  break  from  flavcry^ 
but  by  (hutting  up  my  houfe.  and  declaring  my 
Jefolution  to  live  in  lodgings. 

After  all  this,  tell  me,  dear  Idler,  what  I 
muft  do  next.  I  have  health,  I  have  money, 
and  hope  that  I  have  underftanding ;  yet,  with 
all  thefe,  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  pafs  a 
fingle  day  which  I  did  not  wifh  at  an  end  before 
fun-fct.  Tell  me,  dear  Mer,  what  I  Ihall  do.  I 
SOS 

Your  humble  Servant, 

Tim.  Ranger. 


is ' 

"in 


Numb, 


W6i, 


The  iDLEft. 


4r 


Numb.  65,    Saturday,  July  j^  t 


159' 


THE  Sequel  of  ClartHdon's  Hiftory,  at  Jaft 
happily  publiftied,  is  an  acccffion  to  Engr 
U/h  Literature  equally  agreeable  to  the  admirers 
of  elegance   and   the  lovers   of  truth;    many 
doubtful  fa<as   may  now   be  afcertaincd^.    and 
many  queftions,  after  long  debate,  may   be:  de- 
termined by  decifive  authority..    He  that  records 
tranfadlions  in  which  himfelf  was  engaged,,  haa 
not  only  an  opportunity  of  knowing  innumcr^ 
able  particulars  which  efcape  fpe£lators,  but  has 
his  natural  powers  exalted  by  that  ardour  whiclv 
always  rifes  at  the  remembrance  of  our  own  im-» 
portance,  and  by  which  every  nian  is  enabled  to 
relate  his  own  a(Slions  better  th^n  another's* 

The  difficulties  dirough  which  this  work  haa 
ftruggled  into  light,  and  the  delays  with  which 
our  hopes  have  been  long  mocked^  naturally 
lead  the  mind  to  the  confederation  of  tlie  com* 
men  fate  of  pofthumous  compofitions. 

He  who  fees  himfelf  furrounded  by  adinirers,. 
and  whofc  vanity  is  hourly  feafted  with  all  the 
luxuries  of  fludied  praife,  is  eafily  perfuaded 
tliat  his  influence  will  be  extended  beyond  his 
life;  that  they  who  cringe  in  his  prefence  will 
reverence  his  memory ;:  and  that  thoffc  who  arer 
groud  to  he  numbered  among  his  friends  will 

P  S  endeayoui;: 


i  4 


1 

I 


5f  THE  IDLER.  N°6j, 

endeavour  to  vindicate  his  choice  by  zeal  for  his 
reputation. 

With  hopes  like  thefe,  to  the  Executors  of 
Swift  was  committed  the  Hiftory  of  the  laft  years 
of  Queen  jinney  and  to  thofe  of  Fcpe  the  Works 
which  remained  unprinted  in  his  clofet.  The 
performances  of  Pope  were  burnt  by  thofe  whom 
lie  had  perhaps  felefted  from  all  mankind  as  moft 
likely  to  publifh  them ;  and  the  Hiftory  had 
likcwifc  perifhed,  had  not  a  ftraggling  tranfcript 
fallen  into  bufy  hands. 

The  Papers  left  in  the  clofet  oi  Peltffc  fup- 
piled  his  heirs  with  a  whole  winter^  fuel  ;  and 
many  of  the  labours  of  the  learned  Bifhop 
Lhyd  were  confumed  in  the  kitchen  of  his  de- 

fcendants. 

Some  Works,  indeed,  have  efcaped  total  de- 
ftruftion,  but  yet  have  had  reafon  to  lament  the 
fate  of  Orphans  expofed  to  the  frauds  of  unfaith- 
ful Guardians.  How  Hale  would  have  borne 
the  mutilations  which  his  Pleas  of  the  Crown 
have  fullered  from  the  Editor,  they  who  know 
his  character  will  eafily  conceive. 

The  original  Copy  of  Burnet's  Hiftory, 
though  promifed  to  fome  public  *  Library,  has 
been  never  given  ;  and  who  then  can  prove  the 
fidelity  of  the  publication,  when  the  authen* 

♦  It  weuW  be  proper  to  r«pofite,  in  fome  public  Place, 
tbc  Manufcript  of  Clanndwy  which  has  not  efcaped  all  fuf- 
picion  of  unfaithful  publicatioaw  * 

ticity 


THE^  IDLER. 


5f* 


ticity  of  Clarendon's  Hiftory,  though  printed  with 
the  fan£tion  of  one  of  the  firft  Univ<Jrfities  of  the 
World,  had  not  an  unexpeaed  manufcript  been 
happily  difcovcred,  would,  with  the  help  of 
factious  credulity,  have  been  brought  into 
queftion  by  the  two  lowcft  of  all  human  beings, 
a  Scribbler  for  a  Party,  and  a  ConiKiiflioner  of 
Excife  ? 

Vanity  is  often  no  lefs  mifchicvOus  than 
negligence  or  difhonefty.  He  that  poffefles  a 
valuable  Manufcript,  hopes  to  raife  its  cfteem 
by  concealment,  and  delights  in  the  diflin£tion 
which  he  imagines  himfelf  to  obtain  by  keeping 
the  key  of  a  treafure  which  he  neither  ufes  nof ' 
imparts.  From  him  it  falls  to  fome  other 
owner,  lefs  vain  but  more  negligent,  who  con- 
fiders  it  as  ufelefs  lumber,  and  rids  himfelf  of  the 
incumbrance. 

Yet  there  are  fome  works  which  the  Authoi-s 
muft  confign  unpublilhed  to  pofterity,  however 
uncertain 'be  the  event,  however  hopelefs  be  the 
ttuft.  He  that  writes  the  hiftory  of  his  own 
times,  if  he  adheres  lleadily  to  truth,  will 
write  that  which  his  own  times  will  not  eafily 
endure.  He  muft  be  content  to  repofite  his 
book  till  all  private  paflions  fliall  ceafe,  and  lovC' 
and  hatred  give  way  to  curiofity. 

But  many  leave  the  labours  of  half  their  life 
to  their  executors  and  to  chance,  becauf^  they 

D  ^  will 


>    t' 


f  t  I'tt 


i. 


^  THE  IDLER.  N<^6^ 

will  not  fend  them  abroad  unfinifhcd,  and  are 
unable  to  finifli  thcni,  having  prefcribed  tQ 
thcmfelvcs  fuch  a  degree  of  cxaftnefs  as  human 
diligence  can  fcarcely  attain.  L/oyd,  fays  Burnet^ 
did  not  lay  out  his  learning  with  t hi  fame  diligence  at 
he  laid  it  in.  He  was  always  hefitating  and  en- 
quiring, raifing  objections  and  removing  them, 
and  waiting  for  clearer  light  and  fuller  difcovery. 
Baker,  after  many  years  paft  in  Biography,  left 
his  manufcripts  to  be  buried  in  a  hbrary,  bc- 
caufe  that  was  impcrfeft  which  could  never  be 
perfeftcd. 

Of  thefe  learned  men,  let  thofe  who  afpire 
to  the  fame  praife,  imitate  the  diligence,  and 
avoid  the  fcrupulofity.  Let  it  be  always  remem- 
beicd  that  life  is  Ihort,  that  knowledge  is  end- 
Jcfs,  and  that  many  doubts  deferve  not  to  be 
cleared.  Let  thofe  whom  nature  and  ftudy  have 
qualified  to  teach  mankind,  tell  us  what  they 
have  learned  tvhile  they  are  yet  able  to  tell  it, 
and  truft  their  reputation  only  to  themfelves,. 


Numb. 


N^fiS^ 


THE  IDLERv 


ii 


Numb.  66.    Saturday,  7««^  21,^  1759, 

NO  complaint  is  more  frequently  repeated 
among  the  learned,  than  that  of  the  wafte 
made  by  time  among  the  labours  of  Antiquity, 
Of  thofe  v*^ho  once  filled  the  civilized  world  with: 
their  renown^  nothing  is  now  left  but  their 
names,  which  are  left  only  to  raife  defires  that 
never  can  be  fatisfied,  and  forrow  which  never 
can  be  comforted. 

Had  all  the  writings   of  the  ancients   been 
faithfully  delivered  down  from  age  to  age,  had 
the   Alexandrian  library  been  fpared,   and   the 
Palatini  repofitories  remained  unimpaired,,  how 
much  might  we  have  known  of  which  we  are 
now  doomed  to  be  ignorant !    how  many  la* 
borious   enquiries,   and  dark  conjeftures,  how 
many  collations  of  broken  hints  and  mutilated 
paffages,  might  have  been  fpared  I  We  (hould 
have  known  the  Succeffions  of  Princes,  the  Re- 
volutions of  Empire,  the  Aftions  of  the  Great, 
and  O^  vions  of  the  Wife,  the  Laws  and  Con- 
Ititutions  of  every  State,,  and  the  Arts  by  which 
public  Grandeur  and  Happinefs  areacquired  and 
preferved ;  we  fhould  have  traced  the  progref* 
©f  Life,  fcea  Colonies  ftom-diflaut  regions  take 

poffcllioil^ 


r. 


THE  IDLER..  N^66i 


ii 


nofleflion  of  European  defeits,  and  troops  of^ 
Savages  fettled  into  Commumties  by  the  dcfire: 
of  k«ieping  what  they  had  acquired  ;. we  Ihoiild- 
have  traced  the  gradations  of  civility,  and  tra^ 
veiled  upward  to  the  original  of  things  by  the 
light  of  Hiftory,  till  in  remoter  times  ithad  ghm- 
mered  in  fable,  and  at  laft  funk  into  darknefs. 

If  the>  works,  of  imagination  had  been  lefs 
diminilhcd,  it  is  likely  that  all.  future  tirnes^ 
might  have  been  fupplied  with  inexhauftible 
amufement  by  the  fidions  of  Antiquity.  The 
Tragedies  oi  Sopbocles  znd  Euripides  would  have 
(hewn  all  the  ftronger  paffions  in  all  their  diver- 
fities;  and  the  Comedies  o(  Me^ander  woM 
have  fumifhed  all  the  maxims  of  domcftic  lifei 
Nothing  would  have  been  nsceffary  to  moral 
wifdom  but  to  have  ftudied  thefe  great  Mailers, 
whofe  knowledge  would  have  guided  doubt,  and 
whofe  authority  would  have  file  need  cavils. 

Such  are  the  thoughts  that  rife  in  every  Stu- 
dent, when  his  curiofity-is  eluded,  and  his 
fcarches  are  fruftrated;  yet  it  may  peijiaps  be 
doubted,  whether  our-complaints  ace  not  fome- 
times  inconfideratc,  and  whetlier  we  do  not 
imagine  more  evil  tlwn- we  feeL  Gfthe  An- 
cients,  enough  remains  to  excite  our  emulation, 
and  direa  our  endeavoursi  Many  of  the  works 
which  time  has  left  us,  we  know  to  have  been 
Ihofethat  were  raoft  efteemed,  and  which  An. 
tiquity  itfelf  confideied  as   Models  j  fo  that, 


h^Yinjf 


N'66.  THE   IDLERV  % 

having  the-  Originals,  wc  may  without  rauck- 
regret  lofe  the  imitations.  The  obfcurity  which 
the  want  of  contemporary  writers  often  produces,, 
only  darkens  finglc  paflages,  and  thofc  comr 
monly  of  flight  importance.  The  general  ten- 
dency of  every  piece  may  be  known,  andthongU' 
that  dihgence  deferves  praife  which  leaves-  no- 
thing unexamined,  yet  its  mtfcarriages  are  not 
much  to.  be  lamented  ;  for  the  moft  ufeful  truths, 
are  always  univerfal,.  and  uncomicfted  with. acci- 
dents and  cuftoms; 

Such  is  the  general  confpiracy  of  human  na«- 
ture  againft  contemporary  merit,  that  it  we  had 
inherited  from  Antiquity  enough  to  afford  em- 
ployment for  the  laborious,  and  amufement  for 
the  idle,  I  know  not  what  room  would  have  been 
left  for  modern  genius  or  modern  induflry; 
almoft  ev-ery  fubjeft  would  have  been  pre-occu* 
pied,  and  every  flyle  would  have  been  fixed  by 
a- precedent  from  which  few  would  have  ven» 
tured  to  depart.  Every  writer  would  h?ve  had 
a  rival,  whofe  fuperlority  was  already  acknow- 
ledged, and  ta  whofe  fame  his  work  would, 
even  before  it  was  feen,  be  marked  out  for  a 

iacrifice. 

"We  fee  how  little  the  united  experience  of 
mankind  have  been  able  to  add  to  the  heroine 
charaaers  difplayed  by  Homer,  and  how  few 
incidents  the  fertile  imagination  of  modern  Italy 

ha9 


m 


I 


•    m 


M  ' 


t4f  '     THE  IDLER?.  N<^66. 

has  yet  produced,  which  may  not  be  found! 
in  the  liiad  zndOdyJpy,  It  is  likely,  that  if  all 
the  works  of  the  Athenian  Philofophers  had  beea 
extant,  Malbranche  and  Locke  would  have  been^ 
condemned  to  be  filent  readers  of  the  ancient 
Metaphyficians  ;  and  it  is  apparent,  that  if  the 
old  writers  had  all  remained,  the  Idler  could,  not: 
have  written  a  difq^uiiition  oix  the  lofs*. 


^®®;^®®®©®®®®®®©^ 


Numb.  67.     Saturday,  July  a8,    1759^ 
To  the  IDLER*. 

Sir, 

IN  the  obfervatioiis  which  you  have  made  ow 
the  various  opinions  and  purfuits  of  man*' 
kind,  you  muft  often,  in  literary  converfations, 
have  met  with  men  who  confider  Diflipation  as 
the  great  enemy  of  the  intellect ;  and  maintain^, 
that  in  proportion  as  the  ftudent  keeps  himfelf 
within  the  bounds  of  a  fettled  plan,  he  will  more 
certainly  advance  in  fcience.. 

This  opinion   is,    perhaps,    generally  true; 
yet,  when  we  contemplate  the  inquifitive  nature 


*<* 


N'»67-.  THE  IDLER*  65: 

of  the  human  mind,  and  its  perpetual  impa- 
tience of  all  reftraint,  it  may  be  doubted  whe- 
ther the  faculties  may  not  be  contra£led  by  con- 
fining the  attention ;  and  whether  it  may  not 
fometimes  be  proper  to  rilque  the  certainty  of 
of  little  for  the  chance  of  mucli*  Acquilitions^ 
of  knowledge,  like  blazes  of  genius,  are  often 
fortuitous.  Thofe  who  had  propofed  to  them- 
felves  a  methodical  courfe  of  reading,  light  by 
accident  on  a  new  book,  which  feizes  their 
thoughts  and  kindles  their  curiofity,  and  opens 
an  unexpefted  profpedt,  to  which  the  way  whicli 
they  had  prefcribed  to  themfclves  would  never 
have  conducted  them. 

To  inforce  and  illuftrate  my  meaning,  I  have 
lent  you  a  Journal  of  three  days  employment, 
found  among  the  papers  of  a  late  intimate  ac- 
quaintance ;  who,  as  will  plainly  appear,  was  a 
man  of  vaft  defigns,  and  of  vaft  performances, 
though  he  fometimes  defigned  one  thing  and 
performd  another.  I  allow  that  the  Speeiatar^s 
inimitable  produ£lions  of  this  kind  may  welldif- 
courage  all  fubfequent  Journalifls  j  but,  as  th© 
fvibjed  of  this  is  different  from  that  of  any  which 
thr  Speefator  has  given  us,  I  leave  it  to  you  to 
publiftior  fupprcfs  it. 

**  Mem,  The  following  three  days  I  propofe 
to  give  up  to  reading  ;  and  intend,  after  all  the 
delays  which  have  obtruded  themfelves  upon 
me,  to  finilh.  my  E^ayL  on  the  Extent  of  the  Mm- 

tat 


i' 


66^  THE  IDLER.  K«  67". 

tal  powers ;  to  revife  my  Treatlfe  on  Legid  ;  tG^ 
begin  the  Epkk  w^>ich  I  have  long^  projcftcd  j 
ta  proceed'  in  my  pcrufal  of  the  Scriptures  whli^ 
Grotius's  Comment',  and  at  my  leifure  to  regale 
myfelf  with  the  works  of  Clafficks,  ancient  and: 
modern,  and  to  finilh  my  Oife  to  Jfironmy. 

^*  Monday. -J  Deii'gned  to  rife  at  iix,.  but,  by 
my  fervant's  lazinefs,  my  fire  was  not  lighted- 
before  eight,  when  I  dropped  into   a  flumber 
that  lafted  till  nme ;  at  which  time  I  rofe,  and;, 
after  breakfaft,  at  ten  fat  down  to  ftiidy,   pro- 
pofing  to  begin  upon  my  EJfay ;  but  finding  occa- 
fioa  to.  confult  apaflage  in  Plaio,.  was  abforbed* 
in  the  perufai  of  the  Republkk  till  twelve.     I  had- 
wegleAed  to  forbid  company,  and  now  enters 
Tom  Carelefs,  who,  afte^  half  an   hour's  chat, 
infifted  upon  my  going  with  him  to  enjoy  an 
abfurd  charaaer,  that  he  had  appointed,  by  an 
advertifement,  to  meet  him  at  a  particular  cof- 
fee-houfe.     After  we  had  for  fome  entertained 
ourfelves   with   him,  we  fallied  out,  defigning 
each  to  repair  to  his  home ;  but,  as  it  fell  oun 
coming  up  in  the  ilrcet  to  a  man,  whofe  fled 
by  his  fide  declared  him  a  butcher,  we  overheard 
him  opening  an  Addrcfs  to  a  genteelifti  fort  of 
young  Lady,  whom  he  walked  with  :  **  Mifs, 
•♦Though  your  father   is    mailer  of  a  coal' 
*«  lighter,  and  you  will  be  a  great- fortune,  'tis 
**  true;  yet  1  wilh  I  may  be  cut  into  quarters 
«  if  it  is.  not  only  Love,  andnot  Lucre  of  Gain, 


N«^67.  THE  IDLER.  tf 

"  that  is  my  motive  fer  offering  terms  of  mac- 
"  riage.'*  As,  this  Lover  proceeded  in  his  fpeech, 
he  mifled  us  the  length  of  three  ftreets^  in  admi* 
ration  at  the  unlimited  power  of  the  tender  paf- 
fion,    that  could  foftcii   even   the  heart   of  a 
butcher.     We  then  adjourned  to  a  tavern,  and 
from   thence  to  one  of    the  publick  gardens, 
where   I   was    regaled    with    a    moll  amufing 
variety  of  men  pofleffing  great  talents,   fo  dif- 
colouredby  affeftation,  that  they  only  made  them? 
eminently  ridiculous  ;  fhallow  things,  who,  by 
continual  diflipation,   had  annihilated  the  few 
ideas  nature  had  given  them,  and  yet  were  cele- 
brated for  wonderful  pretty  Gentlemen  -„  young 
Ladies  extolled  for  tlieir  Wit,,  becaufe  they  were 
handfome  ;  illiterate  empty  women  as  well  as- 
men,  in  high  life,  admired  for  their  knowledge, 
from  their  being  refolutely  pofitive ;  and  womeiL 
of  real  underftanding  fo  far  from  plealing  the  pQ» 
lite*  million,  that  they  frightened  them  away^ 
and  were  left  folitary.     When  we  quitted  this 
entertaining  fcene,  Tom  prefled  lae,  irrefiflibly,  to- 
fup  with  him.     I  reached  home  at  twelve,  and 
then  refleded,  tliat  though  indeed  I  had,  by  re- 
marking various  charaders,  improved  my  in* 
fight  into  human  nature,  yet  ftiil  I  had  negle^ed 
the  ftudies  propofed^  and  accordingly  took  up? 
my  freatife  on  Logick,  to  give  it  the  intended  re* 
vifal,  but  found  my  fpirits  too  much  agitated^ 

aad; 


iv. 


it! 


jij 


Ail 


t^  THE   IDLER.  N^'e;-. 

and  could  not  forbear  a  few  fatyrical  lincs^  ua- 
der  the  title  of  The  Evening's  IP'alk, 

*^7ufJ'day,]  At  breakfaft,  feeing  my  Ode  to 
Jftronomy  lying  on  my  defk,  I  was  ft  ruck  with  a; 
train  of  ideas,  that  1  thought  might  contribute 
to  its  improvement.  T  immediately  rang  my 
bell  to  forbid  all  vifitants,  when  my  fervant 
opened  the  door,  with,  **  Sir,  Mr.  Jeffery 
GapeJ'*  My  cup  dropped  out  of  one  ha«d,  and- 
my  poem  out  of  the  other.  I  couW  fcarce  alk 
him  to  fit  i  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  walk, 
but  as  there  was  a  likelihood  of  rain,  he  would: 
€t  with  me  j  he  faid,  he  intended  at  firft  to  have 
called  at  Mr.  Vacant' s,  but  as  he  had  not  feent 
me  a  great  while,  he  did  not  mind  coming  out  of 
his  way  to  wait  on  me  ;  I  made  hkn  a  bow,  but 
thanks  for  the  favour  ftuck  in  my  throat.  I 
afked  him  if  he  had  been  to  the  coffee-houfe^ 
He  replied,  two  hours. 

•*  Under  the  oppreflion  of  this  dull  interrupt 
tion,  I  fat  looking;  wifhfully  at  the  clock ;  for 
which,,  to  increafe  my  fatisfaftion,  I  had  chofea 
the  infcription,,  Jtrt  is  long,  and  Life  is  Jhort ; 
exchanging  queftions  and  anfwers  at  long  inter- 
vals, and  not  without  fome  hints  that  the  wea- 
ther-glafs  promifed  fair  weather.  At  half  an- 
hour  after  three  he  told  me  he  would  trefpafs  on 
me  for  a  dinner,  and  deiired  roe  to  ftnd  to  his 
houfe  for  a  bundle  of  papers,  about  uiclofmg  a; 
common  upon  his  eftatc,.  which  he  would  read 
"-  to- 


N«^67.  THE    IDLER.  .«^ 

to  me  in  the  evening.     I  declared  myfelf  bufy, 
and  Mr.  Gn^c  went  away.  ' 

"  Having  dined,  to  compofe  my  chagrin  I 
took  up  A^/V^iV,  and  feveral  other  CJafficks,  but 
<:ould  not  calm  my  mind,  or  proceed  in  my 
fcheme.  At  about  five  I  laid  my  hand  on  a  Bi- 
ble that  lay  on  my  table,  at  firft  with  coldnefs 
and  inrenfibility  ;  but  was  imperceptibly  engaged 
in  a  clofe  attention  to  its  fublime  morality,  and 
felt  my  heart  expanded  by  warm  philanthropy, 
znA  exalted  to  dignity  of  Tcntiment^  I  then  cen- 
fured  my  too  great  folicitude,  and  my  difguft 
conceived  at  my  acquaintance,  who  had  been  fo 
far  from  defigning  to  ofFend,  that  he  only  meant 
to  fliew  kindnefs  and  refped.  In  this  ft  rain  of 
mind  I  wro*e  An  Effay  on  Benevolence,  and  jiK 
Elegy  onfuhlunary  Difappointments,  When  I  had 
ilnilhed  thefc,  at  eleven,  I  fupped,  and  recolleft- 
td  how  little  I  had  adhered  to  my  plan,  and  al- 
moft  queftioned  the  pofTibility  of  purfuing  any 
fettled  and  uniform  de/ign  ;  however,  I  wa?  not 
jfo  far  perfuaded  of  the  truth  of  thefe  fuggeftions, 
put  that  I  refolved  to  try  once  more  at  my 
jfchemc.  As  I  obferved  the  moon  Ihining 
[through  ray  window,  from  a  calm  and  bright 
^y  fpangled  with  innumerable  ftars,  I  indulged 
^pleafing  meditation  on  the-fplendid  fccne,  and 
inifhed  my  Ode  to  4/ironomy, 

'*  ff^ednefiay.]    Rofe  at  feven,  and  employed 
phrce  hours  ia  perufal  of  the  Scriptures  with 

Gmlus's 


si; 


I 


^  THE  IDLER.  N''^?, 

Gntim^  Ccmmmt ;  and  after  breakfaft  feU  into 
meditation  concerning  my  projefled  £p"* !  »' j 
being  in  fon>c  doubt  as  to  the  particular  htes  of 
fome  heroes,  whom  I  propofcd  to  celebrate, 
confulted  B.ylc  and  M>r>ri,  and  «"  -W^ 
two  hours  in  examining  various  hvcs  and  cha- 
nfters,  but  then  rcfolved  to  go  to  my  employ- 
ment. When  I  wasfeated  at  my  deAc.and  began 
to  feel  the  glowing  fucceffion  of  poet.cal  ideas. 
my  fervant  brought  me  a  letter  frorn  a  Lawyer, 
requiring  my  inftant  attendance  at  Or,, ,  Inn  tot 
Sf  an  hour!    1  went  full  of  vexat.on.  and  was 
involved  in  bulinefs  till  e.ght  at  night,   and 
thin,  being  too  tnuch  fatigued  to  ftudy,  fupped, 

and  went  to  bed.  ... 

Here  my  friend's  Journal  concludes,  wh.ch 
«rhaDS  is  pretty  much  a  piftute  of  the  manner 
rSch  -any  U-te  their  ftudies.    I  there- 
fore refolved  to  fend  it  you,  imag.nmg,  that  .f 
vou  think  it  worthy  of  appearing  in  your  paper. 
feme  of  your  Readers  may  receive  entert-.nment 
bT  recognizing   a    refemblance    between    my 
Send's  condua  and  their  own.      t  muft  be  left 
tL  the  JJUr  accurately  to  afceruin  the  proper  me- 
^od,  of  advancing  in  literature;  but  thrs  one 
„ofition.    deducible  firom  what  has  been  fa.d 
above,  may.  I  think,  be  reafonably  afferted.  that 
K;^^  finds  himfelf  ftrongly  ^^ttr^aed  to  a,^ 
particular  My.  though  U  may  happe^  to 
e,tf  ofhispropofedfcheme,  ,f  »t  is  nottr.fl.nj 


tN'tr;.  THE   IDLEIL  ^t 

'or  vicious,  had  better  continue  his  application 
to  it,  fincc  it  is  likely  that  he  will,  with  much 
more  cafe  and  expedition,  attain  that  which  a 
warm  inclination  Simulates  him  to  purfuc,  than 
that  at  which  a  prefcribed  law  compels  him  to 
toil. 

I  am,  &c 

Numb.  68.     Saturday,  ^ugufi  4,   1759. 

AMONG  the  ftudies  which  have  cxcrcifcd 
the  ingenious  and  the  learned  for  mons 
than  three  centuries,  none  has  been  marc  diligently 
or  more  fuccefsfully  cultivated  than  the  art  of 
Tranflation  ;  by  which  the  impediments  which 
bar  the  way  to  I'cience  are,  in  forac  mcafure,  re* 
moved,  and  the  multiplicity  of  languages  be- 
comes lefs  incommodious. 

Of  every  other  kind  of  writing  the  ancients 
have  left  us  models  which  all  fucceeding  ages 
have  laboured  to  imitate  ;  but  Tranflation  may 
juftly  be  claimed  by  tlie  modems  as  their  own« 
In  the  firft  ages  of  the  worJd  inftrudion  was 
commonly  oral,  and  learning  traditional,  and 
what  was  not  written  could  not  be  tranflated. 
When  alphabetical  writing  made  the  conveyance 
of  opinions  and  the  tranfmiflion  df  events  more 
eafy  and  certain,  literature  did  not  flourilh  in 
«norc  than  one  country  at  once,  or  diilant  na- 
tions 


''^i\ 


^,  THE    IDLER.        '    N^  68. 

tions  had  little  commerce  with  each  other  ;  and 
thofe  few,  whom  curiofity  fent  abroad  iii  queft  of 
improvement,  4.;ir.uie('  their  acquif.tions  in  their 
own  manner,  def.o..  perhaps  to  be  confidered 
as  the  inventors  of  that  which  Uiey  had  learned 

from  others.  „        t.      i. 

TheGr^/^jforatiraetraveiledintoE^^^^butthey 

tranflated  no  books  frou^  the  i^gyptiat^  language ; 
and  when  the  Macedonians  had  overthrown  the 
Empire  o(Perfta,  the  countries  that  became  fub- 
xcd  to  Grecian  dominion  ftudicd  only  the  Gre^ 
dan  literature.  The  books  of  the  conquered 
nations,  if  they  had  any  among  them,  f^n*^  into 
oblivion  i  Gre.ce  confidered  herfelf  as  the  Mil- 
trefs,  if  not  as  the  Parent,  of  aits  ;  her  language 
contained  all  that  was  fuppofed  to  be  known  ; 
and,  except  the  facred  Writings  of  the  Old  1  ef- 
lament,  I  know  not  that  the  Library  of  Alexan^ 
dria  adopted  any  thing  from  a  foreign  tongue. 

The  Romans  confefled  themfelves  the  fcholars 
of  the  Greeks,  and  do  not  appear  to  have  expeaed, 
what  has  fince  happened,  that  the  ignorance 
6f  fucceeding  ages  would  prefer  them  to  their 
teachers.  Every  man  who  in  Rome  afpired  to 
the  praife  of  literature,  thought  it  ncceflary  to 
learn  Gr4eh  and  had  no  need  of  vcrfions  when 
they  could  lludy  the  originals.  Tranllation, 
however,  was  not  wholly  neglefted.  Drama- 
tick  poems  could  be  underftood  by  the  people 
in  no  language  but  their  own  j  and  the  Romans 
r »t;r««8  #»nt«>rtained  with  the  Tragedies 

O* 


N^eS.  THE   IDLER.  jj 

of  Euripides  and  the  Comedies  of  Minand&i 
Other  works  wet  j  fometimes  attempted  :  in  an 
old  Scholiaft  there  is  mention  of  a  Lntin  lliad^ 
and  we  have  not  wholly  loft  Tully'i  verfion  of  the 
Poem  of  Aratut  \  but  it  does  not  appear  that  any 
man  grew  eminent  by  interpreting  another ;  and 
perhaps  it  was  more  frequent  to  tranflate  for  ex* 
crcife  or  amufement  than  for  fame. 

The  Arahi  were  the  fifft  nation  Who  felt  the 
ardour  of  Tranf.  aion  ;  when  they  had  fubducid 
the  Eaftern  provinces  of  the  Gretk  Empire,  they 
found  their  captives  wifer  than  themfelves,  and 
made  hafte  to  relieve  their  wants  by  imparted 
knowledge.  They  difcovered  that  many  might 
grow  wife  by  the  labour  of  a  few  ;  and  that  im- 
provements might  be  made  with  fpeed,  when 
they  had  the  knowledge  of  former  ages  in  their 
own  language.  They  therefore  made  hdfte  to 
lay  hold  on  Medicine  and  Philofophy,  and 
turned  their  chief  authors  into  Arabic.  Whether 
they  attempted  the  poets  is  not  known  ;  their 
literary  zeal  was  vehement,  but  it  was  Ihort, 
and  probably  expired  before  they  had  time  to 
add  the  arts  of  elegance  to  thofe  of  neceflity. 

The  ftudy  of  ancient  literature  was  inter- 
rupted in  Europe  jy  the  irruption  of  the  North- 
ern nations,  who  fubverted  the  Roman  Empire, 
and  ei:eaed  new  kingdoms  with  new  languages. 
It  is  not  ftrange,  that  fuch  confufion  Ihould 
fufpend  literary  attention  ;  thofe  who  loft,  and 
Vol.11.  £  .         thofe 


^4  THE   IDLER.  N"  68. 

thofe  who  gained  dominion  had  immediate  diffi- 
culties to  encounter,  and  immediate  mifcrics  to 
rcdrels,  and  had  little  Icifurc,  amidft  the  vio- 
lence of  war,  the  trepidation  of  flight,  the  dif- 
trcflcs  of  forced  migration,  or  the  tumults  of 
oinfettled  conqucft,  to  enquire  after  fpcculativc 
truth,  to  enjoy  the  amufement  of  imaginary  ad- 
ventures, to  know  the  hiftory  of  former  ages,  or 
ftudy  the  events  of  any  other  lives.  But  no 
fooner  had  this  chaos  of  dominion  funk  into  or- 
der, than  learning  began  again  to  flourifh  in 
the  calm  of  peace.  When  life  and  poffeffions 
were  fecure,  convenience  and  enjoyment  were 
foop  fought,  learning  was  found  the  highcft 
gratification  of  the  mind,  and  Tranflation  be- 
came one  of  the  means  by  which  it  was  im- 
parted. 

At  laft,  by  a  coucurrencc  of  many  caufes,  the 
European  world  was  rouzed  from  its  lethargy  j 
thofe  arts  which  had  been  long  obfcurely  ftudicd 
in  the  gloom  of  monafteries  became  the  general 
favourites  of  mankind  ;  every  nation  vied  with 
its  neighbour  for  the  prize  of  learning  ;  the  epi- 
demical emulation  fprcad  from  South  to  North, 
and  Curiofity  and  TranHiition  found  their  way 
10  Britain. 


Numb. 


N*69. 


THE  IDLER. 


75 


Numb.  69.     Saturday,  Juguft  11,  i^^g. 

HE  that  reviews  the  progrefs  of  Englijh  Lite- 
rature,  will  find  that  Tranflation  was 
very  early  cultivated  among  us,  but  that  fomc 
principles,  cither  wholly  erroneous  or  too  far 
extended,  hindered  our  fucccfs  from  being  al- 
ways equal  to  our  diligence. 

Chauart  who  is  generally  confidercd  as  the 
Father  of  our  Poetry,  has  left  a  Verfion  o{  B  e- 
tius  on  the  Comforts  of  Philofophy,  the  book  which 
fcems  to  have  been  the  favourite  of  the  middle 
ages,  which  had  been  tranflated  into  Saxtn  by 
King  Alfred^  and  iiluftrated  with  a  copious 
Comment  afcribed  to  Aquinas.  It  may  be  fuppofed 
XhdXChaueer  would  apply  more  than  common  at- 
tention to  an  author  of  fo  much  celebrity  ;  yet 
he  has  attempted  nothing  higher  than  a  verfion 
ftri£tly  literal,  and  has  degraded  the  poetical 
parts  to  profe,  that  the  conftraint  of  verfificatioa 
might  not  obftrud  his  zeal  for  fidelity. 

CaAf/tf«  taught  us  Typography  about  the  year 
1474.  The  firft  book  printed  in  Englijh  was  a 
tranflation*  Caxton  was  both  the  Tranflator  and 
Printer  of  the  Dejiru^ion  ofTroye,  a  book  which, 
in  that  infancy  of  learning,  was  confidered  as 
the  befl  account  of    the    fabulous  ages,    and 

E  2  which, 


I  1 


Jlii^a£  jSm.  I 


56  THE  IDLER.  N'^69. 

which,  though  now  driven  out  of  notice  by  Au- 
thors of  no  greater  ufc  or  value,  ftill  continued 
to  be  read  in  CaxtorCs  Englljh  to  the  beginning  of 
the  prefent  century. 

Caxton  proceeded  as  he  began,  and,  except 
the  Poems  oiGower  2ind  Chaucer^  printed  no- 
thing but  Tranilations  from  the  French^  in 
which  the  original  is  fo  fcrupuloufly  followed, 
that  they  afford  us  little  knowledge  of  our  own 
language;  though  the  words  are  Englifi,  the 
phrafe  is  foreign. 

As  Learning  advanced,  new  works  were 
adopted  into  our  language,  but  I  think  with  lit- 
tle improvement  of  the  art  of  Tranilation, 
though  foreign  nations  and  other  languages  of- 
fered us  models  of  a  better  method ;  till  in  the 
zcTQ  of  Elizabeth  we  began  to  find  that  greater 
I'^erty  was  neceffary  to  elegance,  and  that  ele- 
gance was  neceflary  to  general  reception  ;  fome 
eflays  were  then  made  upon  the  Italian  Poets, 
whicii  deferve  the  praife  and  gratitude  of  Pofte- 

lity. 

But  the  old  praAice  was  not  fuddenly  for- 
faken;  Holland  filled  the  nation  with  Uteral 
Tranilation,  and,  what  is  yet  more  ftrange,  the 
fame  exadtnefs  was  obllinately  praftifcd  in  the 
verfions  of  the  Poets.  This  abfurd  labour  of 
conft ruing  into  rhyme  was  countenanced  by 
Jon/on  in  his  verfion  of  Horace ;  and  whether 
jt  be  that  more  men  have  learning  than  ge- 
nius 


N''69.  THE    IDLER.  77 

nius,  or  that  the  endeavours  of  that  time  were 
more  direfted  towards  knowledge  than  delight, 
the  accuracy  of  Jonfon  found  more  imitators 
than  the  elegance  of  Fairfax  ;  and  Aiay,  Sandys, 
and  Holiday,  confined  themfelves  to  the  toil  of 
rendering  line  for  line,  not  indeed  with  equal 
felicity,  for  May  and  Sandys  were  Poets,  and 
Holiday  only  a  fcholar  and  a  critick. 

Feltham  appears  to  consider  it  as  the  efta- 
blilhed  law  of  Poetical  Tranllation,  that  the 
lines  fhould  be  neither  more  nor  fewer  than 
thofe  of  the  original  ;  and  fo  long  had  this  pre- 
judice prevailed,  that  Denham  praifes  Fanjhaui'a 
verlion  of  Guarini  as  the  example  of  a  mw  and 
noble  way,  as  the  firft  attempt  to  break  tlie  boun,- 
daries  of  cuftom,  and  aflert  the  natural  freedom 
of  the  Mufe. 

In  the  general  emulation  of  wit  and  genius 
which  the  feftivity  of  the  Refloration  produced^ 
the  Poets  fhook  off  their  conftraint,  and  con« 
fidered  Tranflation  as  no  longer  confined  to  fer- 
vile  clofenefs.  But  reformation  is  feldom  the 
work  of  pure  virtue  or  unaflifled  reafon.  'J'ranf- 
lation  was  improved  more  by  accident  than  con- 
viftion.  The  writers  of  the  foregoing  age  had 
at  leaft  learning  equal  to  iheir  genius,  and  lx> 
ing  often  more  able  to  explain  the  fentiments  or 
jlluilrate  the  allulions  of  the  Ancients,  than  to 
exhibit  their  graces  and  transfulc  their  ipirit, 
were  perhaps  willing  fometimcs  to  conceal  their 

t.  3  want 


I . 

^'wM 

i 

m 

-■9 

•M 

h-'^^^^l 

P^^^H 

■ 

9 

^^H 

■MBam 

^^^^1 

78  THE  IDLER.  N*  69. 

want  of  Poetry  by  profufion  of  Literature,  and 
therefore  tranflated  literally,  that  their  fidelity 
might  ihelter  their  inflpidity  or  harlhncfs.  The 
Wits  of  Charles's  time  had  feldom  more  than 
flight  and  f  uperficial  views,  and  their  care  was  to 
hide  their  want  of  learning  behind  the  colours 
of  a  gay  imagination ;  they  therefore  tranflated 
always  with  freedom,  fometimes  with  licenti- 
oufnefs,  and  perhaps  expefted  that  their  readers 
Ihould  accept  fprightlinefs  for  knowledge,  and 
confider  ignorance  and  miftake  as  the  impatience 
and  negligence  of  a  mind  too  rapid  to  ftop  at 
difficulties,  and  too  elevatjd  to  ■  efcend  to  mi- 
ll utenefs. 

Thus  was  tranflation  made  more  eafy  to  the 
Writer,  and  more  delightful  to  the  Reader ;  and 
tbcre  is  no  wonder  if  eafe  and  pleafure  have 
found  their  advocates.  The  paraphraftic  liber- 
ties have  been  almoft  univerfally  admitted ;  and 
She*baurny  whofe  learning  was  eminent,  and  who 
had  no  need  of  any  excufe  to  pafs  flightly  over 
obicurities,  is  the  only  Writer  who  in  later 
times  has  attempted  to  juftify  or  revive  the  an- 
cient feverity. 

There  is  undoubtedly  a  mean  to  be  obferved. 
Dryden  faw  very  early  that  clofenefs  beft  pre- 
ferved  an  Author's  fenfe,  and  that  freedom  beft 
exhibited  his  fpirit;  he  therefore  will  deferve 
the  higheft  praife,  who  can  give  a  reprefenta- 

„  tion 


N°69.  THE  IDLER.  79 

tion  at  once  faithful  and  pltafing,  who  can  con- 
vey the  fame  thoughts  with  the  fame  graces,  and 
who,  when  he  tranflates,  changes  nothing  but  the 
language. 

Numb.  70.    Saturday,  AnguJ}  18,  1759. 

FE  W  faults  of  flyie,  whether  real  or  ima- 
ginary, excite  the  malignity  of  a  more 
numerous  clafs  of  readers,  than  the  ufe  of  hard 
words. 

If  an  Author  be  fuppofed  to  involve  his 
thoughts  in  voluntary  obfcuiity,  and  to  ob* 
ftru^l,  by  unnecefTaiy  difficulties,  a  mind  ea- 
ger in  purfuit  of  truth  ;  iF  he  writes  not  to 
make  others  learned,  but  to  boafl  the  learn- 
ing which  he  poflefles  himfelf,  and  wifhes  to 
be  admired  rather  than  underftood  ;  he  coun- 
teraiSts  the  firft  end  of  writing,  and  juftly  fuf- 
fers  the  utmoft  feverity  of  cenfure,  or  the 
more  affli£live  feverity  of  negiedt. 

But  words  are  only  hard  to  thofe  who  do  not 
underftand  them  ;  and  the  Critick  ought  always 
to  enquire,  whether  he  is  incommoded  by  the 
fault  of  the  Writer,  or  by  his  own. 

Every  Author  does  not  write  for  every  Rea- 
der ;  many  queftions  are  fuch  as  the  illiterate 
part  of  mankind  can  have  neither  intereil  nor 
pleafure  in  difcuffing,    and  which  therefore  it 

E  4  would 


fsmm 


?9  THE   IDLER.  N^  70. 

would  he  an  ufelefs  endeavour  to  level  with 
common  minds  by  tiicfome  circumlocutions 
or  laborious  explanations  ;  and  many  fubjefls 
cf  general  ufe  may  be  treated  in  a  different 
manner,  as  the  book  is  intended  for  the  learned 
or  the  ignorant,  Diffufion  and  expHcatioji  are 
neceffary  to  the  inftruftion  of  thofe  who,  being 
neither  able  nor  accuftomed  to  think  for  them- 
felves,  can  learn  only  what  is  expreflly  taught  j 
but  they  who  can  form  parallels,  difcover  con-» 
fequences,  and  multiply  conclufions,  are  beft 
pjeafed  with  involution  of  argument  and  com- 
prciTion  of  thought }  they  delire  only  to  receive 
the  feeds  of  knowledge  which  they  may  branch 
Qut  by  their  own  power,  to  have  the  way  to 
truth  pointed  out  which  they  can  then  follow 
without  a  guide. 

The  Guardian  dire<^s  one  of  his  pupils  to 
think  with  the  wife,  but  /peak  with  the  vulgar. 
This  is  a  precept  fpecious  enough,  but  not  al- 
ways practicable.  Difference  of  thouglits  will 
produce  difference  of  language.  He  that  thinks 
\yith  more  extent  than  another  will  want  words 
of  larger  meaning  ;  he  that  thinks  with  more 
fubtilty  will  leek  for  terms  of  more  nice  difcri- 
minatioft;  and  where  is  the  wonder,  fince 
words  are  but  the  images  of  things,  that  he  who 
never  krkew  th^e  originals  0\ould  not  k.now  the 
)ie&  I 


QPI^I 


I<J°'J(5, 


THE   IDLER. 


8f 


Yet  vanity  Inclines  us  to  find  faults  any  where 
rather  than  in  ourfelves.  He  that  reads  and  glows' 
no  wifer,  feldom  lufpe£ts  his  own  deficiency  :' 
but  complains  of  hard  words  and  obfcure  feii- 
tences,  and  afks  why  books  are  written  which 
cannot  be  underftood. 

Among  the  hard  words  which  are  no  longer 
to  be  ufed,  it  has  been  long  the  cuftom  to  num- 
ber terms  of  art.  Every  man  (fays  Swift  J  is  more 
able  to  explain  thefubjeii  of  an  art  than  itsprofijfoys  ;. 
a  Farmer  will  tell  you,  in  two  ivords^  that  he  has 
broken  his  kg  j  hut  a  Surgeon,  after  a  long  difcourfe, 
Jball  leave  you  as  ignorant  as  you  were  before,  I'his- 
could  only  have  been  faid  by  fuch  an  exa£l  ob- 
ferver  of  life,  in  gratification  of  malignity,  or  m 
oftentation  of  acutenefs.  Every  Ifour  producer 
inftances  of  the  neceflity  of  terms  of  art.  Mai'- 
kind  could  never  corrfpire  in  uniform  affeda- 
tion  ;  it  is  not  but  by  neceflity  that  every  fcience; 
and  every  trade  has  its  peculiar  language.  They 
that  content  themfelves  with  general  ideas  may- 
reft  in  general  terms ;  but  thofe  whole  ftudics . 
or  employments  force  them  upon  elofer  infpec-r 
tion,  muft  have  names  for  particular  parts,  andi 
words  by  which  they  may  exprefs  various  modes- 
of  combination,  fuch  as  none  but  themfelves- 
have  occafion  to  confider. 

Artifts  are  indeed  iometim^s  ready  to  fuppofe 
that  none  can  be  Ihangers  to  words  to  which 
themfelves   are  familiar,  talk  Ut  an  incidental 

£  5  ea(piceir 


•1  i 


if  I 


_    ?| 


I 


«2  THE  IDLER.  N"  70. 

enquirer  as  they  talk  to  one  another,  and  make 
their  knowledge  ridiculous  by  injudicious  obtru* 
iion.  An  art  cannot  be  taught  but  by  its  pro- 
per terms  i  but  it  is  not  always  necedary  to  teach 
the  art. 

That  the  vulgar  exprefs  their  thoughts  clearly 
is  far  from  Uxat.  ;  and  what  perfpicuity  can  be 
found  among  them  proceeds  not  from  the  eaiinefs 
of  their  language,  but  the  fhallownefs  of  their 
thoughts.  He  that  fees  a  building  as  a  common 
fpeȣtator,  contenti-  himfelf  with  relating  that  it 
is  great  or  little,  mean  or  fplendid,  lofty  or  low ; 
all  thcfe  words  are  intelligible  and  common,  but 
they  convey  nc  diftinft  or  limited  ideas  ;  if  he 
attempts,  without  the  terms  of  architefture,  to 
delineate  the  parts,  or  enumerate  the  ornaments, 
his  narration  at  once  becomes  unintelligible. 
The  terms,  indeed,  generally  difpleaf);,  becaufe 
they  are  vinderftood  by  few  ;  but  thi^  are  little 
tmderflood  only  becaufe  few,  that^ook  upon  an 
edifice,  examine  its  parts,  or  analyfe  its  columns 
into  their  members. 

The  ftate  of  every  other  art  is  the  fame  j  as  it 
is  curforily  furveyed  or  accurately  examined, 
different  forms  of  expreffion  become  proper.  la 
Morality  it  is  one  thing  to  difcufs  the  niceties 
of  the  cafuift,  and  another  to  dircft  the  prac- 
tice of  common  life.  In  agriculture,  he  that 
inflrufts  the  farmer  to  plough  and  fow,  may 
convey  his  notions  witliout  the  words  which  he 

would 


N*70.  THE   IDLER.      ,  85 

would  find  ncceflary  in  explaining  to  Philofo- 
phers  the  procefs  of  vegetation  ;  and  if  he,  who 
has  nothinf^  to  do  but  to  be  honed  by  the  fhorteft 
way,  will  perplex  his  mind  with  fubtile  fpecu- 
lations  ;  or  if  he,  whofe  talk  is  to  reap  and  threfh, 
will  not  be  contented  without  examining  the 
evolution  of  the  feed  and  circulation  of  the  fap, 
the  writers  whom  either  fliall  confult  are  very 
little  to  be  blame^,  though  it  fhould  fometimcs 
happen  that  they  are  read  in  vain. 


Numb.  71.    Saturday,  Jitigtdfl  2^^    1759. 

DICK  Shifter  was  born  in  Cheap/tde^ 
and,  having  pafled  reputably  through  ail 
the  clafles  of  St.  Paulas  fchool,  has  been  for  fome 
years  a  Student  in  the  Temple,  He  is  of  opinion 
that  intcnfe  application  dulls  the  faculties,  and 
thinks  it  necellary  to  temper  the  feverity  of  the 
Law  by  books  that  engage  the  mind,  b  it  do  not 
fatigue  it.  He  has  therefore  made  a  copious  col- 
ledtion  of  Plays,  Poems,  and  Romginces,  to 
which  he  has  recourfe  when  he  fancies  him- 
felf  tired  with  Statutes  and  Reports  i  and  he  fei- 
dom  enquires  very  nicely  whether  he  is  weary  or 
idle, 

E  6  Dick 


*% 


ilil 


Ml, 


H  THE  IDLER.  K^-^^^ 

Dick  has  received  from  his  favourite  Authors 

very  ftrong  impreffions  of  a  country  life  ;  anct 

though  his  furtheft   excurfions  have  been  to 

Greenwich  on   one  fido»    and  CM/ea    on    the 

other,    he  has  talked  for  feveral  years,    with 

great  pomp  of  language  and  elevation  of  fenti- 

ments,    about  a  ftate  too  high-  for  contempt 

and  too^Iow  for  enry,  about  homely  quiet  and 

Wamelefs  fimplieity,  paftoral  delights  and  rural* 

innocence..  • 

His  friends,  who  had  eft^tes  in,  the  coun-- 
try  often  invited  him  to  pafs  the  fummec 
among  them>  but  fbmething  or  other  had  al- 
ways hindered  him ;  and  he  confidered,  that 
torefide  in  th^houfe  of  another  man,  was  to. 
incur  a  kuid  of  dependence,  inconfiftent  with 
that  laxity  of  Ufe  which  he  had  imaged-  as  the 
chief  good* 

This  fummer  he  refolved  to  be  happy,  and' 
procured   a  lodging  to  be  taken  for  him  at  a. 
foluary  houfe,  fituated  about-  thirty  miles  from- 
LoKdo^,    on  the   banks  of  a  fmall  river,  with^ 
cornr fields   before  it,   and  a  hill  on  each  Mo- 
covered  with  wood.     He  concealed  the  place  of 
his  retirement,  that  none  might  violate  his  ob- 
fcurity,  and^promifedhimfelf  many  a  happy  day 
when  he  Ihould  hide  himfelf  among  the  trees' 
md  contemplate  the  tumults  and  vexations  of 
thd  tornit. 


msr 


N*  7T, 


THE  IDLER. 


^$ 


He  ilepped  into  the  poft-chaife  with  his  heart 
beating  and  his  eyes  fparkling,  was  conveyed 
through  many  rarieties  of  dehghtful  profpe^s^ 
few  hills  and  meadows,  corn-fields  and  pafture, 
fucceed  each  other,  and  for  four  hours  charged 
none  of  his  Poets  with  fiction  or  exaggeration. 
He  was  now  within  fix  miles  of  happincfs,  when, 
having  never  felt  fo  much  agitation  before,  he 
began  to  wifli  his  journey  at  an  end ;  and  the 
iUft  hour  was  paffed  in  changing  his  poflure 
and  quarreling  with  his  driver. 

An  hour  may  be  tedious,  but  cannot  be  longi 
he  at  length  alighted  at  his  new  dwelling* 
and  was  received  as  he  expefted ;  he  looked 
round  upon  the  hilh  and  rivukts,  but  his 
joints  were  fliff  and  his  mufcles  fore^  and  his 
firft  requeft  was  to  fee  his  bed-chamber. 

He  refted  well,  and  afcribed  the  foundnefs  of 
his  (lieep  to  the  ftillnefs  of  the  country.  He 
expeded  from  that  time  nothing  but  nights  of 
quiet  and  days  of  rapture,  and  as  foon  as  he  had' 
rifen  wrote  an  account  of  his  new  flate  to  one. 
of  his  friends  in  the  Tm^ie.. 

Dear  Frank, 
I  never  pitied  thee  hi/ore,     lam  now  as  I  could^ 
mjh  every  man  of  wifdom  and  virtue  to  be,  in  the 
regions  of  calm  content  and  placid  meditation  ;  with 
all  the  beauties  of  Nature  foliating  my  notice,  anct 
nil  the  divfrfities  of  Pleafure  courting  my  acceptance  ^ 


f 

■0 


>•  I 


16  THE  IDLER.  N*»7i. 

the  birds  are  chirping  in  the  hedges,  and  the  flowers 
blooming  in  the  mead  \  the  breeze  is  whtjiling  in  the 
woods f  and  the  Sun  dancing  on  the  water,  /  can 
now  fay  with  truth,  that  a  man  capable  of  enjoying 
the  purity  of  happinef,  is  never  more  bufy  than  in  his 
hours  of/ei/urey  nor  evir  lefs  folitary  than  in  a  place 
of  folitude, 

lam,  dearFKAtiK,  &c. 

When  he  had  fent  away  his  letter,  he  walked 
into  the  wood  with  fome  inconvenience  from 
the  furze  that  pricked  his  Jegs,  and  the  briars 
that  fcratched  his  face ;  he  at  laft  fat  down  un- 
der a  tree,  and  heard  with  great  delight  a  Ihower, 
by  which  he  was  not  wet,  rattling  among  the 
branches  ;  This,  faid  he,  is  the  true  image  of 
obfcurity;  we  hear  of  troubles  and  commo- 
tions, but  never  feci  them. 

His  amufement  did  not  overpower  the  calls 
of  nature,  and  he  therefore  went  back  to  order 
his  dinner.  He  knew  that  the  country  produces 
whatever  is  eaten  or  drunk  ;  and  imagining  that 
he  was  now  at  the  fource  of  luxury,  refolved  to 
indulge  himfclf  with  dainties  which  he  fuppofed 
might  be  procured  at  a  price  next  to  nothing,  if 
any  price  at  all  was  expcfted  ;  and  intended  to 
amaze  the  rufticks  with  his  generofity,  by  pay- 
ing more  than  they  would  aft.  Of  twenty 
dilhcs  which  he  named,  he  was  amazed  to  find 

that 


N'^yi' 


THE  IDLER. 


S? 


that  fcarce  one  was  to  be  had ;  and  heard  with 
aftonifhment  and  indignation,  that  all  the  fruits 
of  the  earth  were  lold  at  a  higher  price  than  in 
tlie  ftreets  of  London, 

His  meal  was  fhort  and  fullen  ;  and  here  tired 
again  to  his  tree,  to  enquire  how  dearnefs  could 
be  confiftent  with  abundance,  or  how  fraud 
fhould  be  pra£li^^d  by  fimplicity.  He  was  not 
fatisfied  with  hib  own  fpeculations,  and  return- 
ing home  early  in  the  evening,  went  a  while  from 
window  to  window,  and  found  that  he  wanted 
fomething  to  do. 

He  enquired  for  a  News-paper,  and  was  told 
that  farmers  never  minded  news,  but  that  they 
could  fend  for  it  from  the  ale-houfe.  A  mef- 
fenger  was  difpatched,  who  ran  away  at  full- 
fpeed,  but  loitered  an  hour  behind  the  hedges, 
and  at  lafl  coming  back  with  his  feet  purpofely 
bemired,  inftead  of  expreffing  the  grat'tude 
which  Mr.  Shifter  expe£led  for  the  bounty  of  a 
Ihilling,  faid  that  the  night  was  wet,  and  the 
way  dirty,  and  he  hoped  that  his  worlhip  would 
not  think  it  much  to  give  him  half  a  crown. 

Dick  now  went  to  bed  with  fome  abatement 
of  his  expeftations ;  but  fleep,  I  know  not  how, 
revives  our  hopes  and  rekindles  our  defires. 
He  rofe  early  in  the  morning,  furveyed  the 
landfcapej  and  was  pleafed.  He  walked  out,  and 
paflfed  from  field  to  field,  without  obferving  any 
beaten  path,  and  wondered  that  he  had  not  ^ttn 

the 


,«U^'V. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


2.2 


—     6" 


2.0 


L4    IIIIII.6 


V] 


^^ 


/J 


o 


w 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


-b 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


.^J. 


A 


C-?/ 


to  THE  IDLER.  N<^yy, 

tlie  fhepherdcfles  dancing,  nor  heard  the  fwalns 
piping  to  their  flocks. 

At  laft  he  faw  fome  reapers  and  harveft -wo- 
men at  dinner.      Here,  faid  he,    are  the  true 
Arcadians,    and  advanced    courteoufly  towards 
them,  as  afraid  of  confufing  them  by  the  dignity 
of  his  prcfence.     They  acknowledged  his  fupe- 
riority  by  no  other  token  than  that  of  afkinghim 
for  fomethmg  to  drink.     He  imagined  that  he 
had  now  purchafed  the  privilege  of  difcourfc,  and 
began  to  defcend  to  familiar  queftions,  endeavour- 
ing to  accommodate  his  difcourfe  tc  the  grolT- 
nefs  of  ruftick  underftandings.     The  clowns 
foon  found  that  he  did  not  know  whtat  from  rye^ 
and  began  to  defpife  him;  one  of  the  boys,  by 
pretending  to  fhew  him  a  bird's  neft,  decoyed 
liim  into  a  ditch,  and  one  of  the  wenches  fold 
him  a  bargain. 

This  walk  had  given  him  no  great  pleafure ; 
but  he  hoped  tafind  other  rufticks  lefs  coarfe  of 
manners,  and  lefs  mifchievou^  of  difpofitionv 
Next  morning  he  was  accofted  by  an  Attorney, 
who  told  him,  thatunlefs  he  made  Farmer  Dob- 
fin  fatisfaftion  for  trampling  his  grafs,  he  had 
orders  to  iiidia:  him.    Shifter  was  offended,  but 
not  terrified  ;  and,  telling  the^  Attorney  that  he 
was   himfclf  a  Lawyer,  talked   fo   volubly   of 
Pettifoggers  and  Barraters,  that  he  drove  him 
away.. 

Finding; 


N 


THE  IDLER. 


71.  THL    IDLER.  89 

Finding  his  walks  thus  interrupted,  he  was 
inclined  to  ride,  and  being  pieafed  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  horfe  that  was  grazing  in  a  neigh- 
bouring meadow,  enquired  the  owner,  who  war- 
ranted him  found,  and  would  not  fell   him  but 
that  he  was  too  fine  for  a  plain  man.     Dick  paid 
down  the  price,  and  riding  out,  to  enjoy  the 
evening,  fell  with  his  new  horfe  into  a  ditch  ; 
they  got  out  with  difficulty,  and  as  he  was  going 
to  mount  again,  a  countryman   looked  at  the 
horfe,  and   perceived  him  to  be  blind.     Dick 
went  to  the  feller,    and    demanded  back    his 
money  ;  but  was  told,  that  a  man  who  rented 
his  ground  muft  do  the  beft  for  himfelf,  that  his 
landlord  had  his  rent  though  the  year  was  bar- 
ren, and  that  whether  horfes  had  eyes  or  no,  he 
ihould  fell  them  to  the  higheft  bidder. 

Shifter  now  began  to  be  tired  with  ruftick 
fimplicity ;  and  on  the  fifth  day  took  pofleflion 
again  of  his  Chambers,  and  bade  farewell  to  the 
regions  of  calm  Content  and  placid  Meditation. 


Nv^t&^i 


90 


THE  IDLER. 


N' 


72, 


Numb.  72.    Saturday,  Sepumber  i,  1759. 

TiyT  E  N  complain  of  nothing  more  frequently 
-LVX  than  of  deficient  memory;  and,  indeed, 
every  one  finds  that  many  of  the  ideas  which  he 
defiled  to  retain  have  flipped  irretrievably  away  ; 
that  the  acquifitions  of  the  mind  are  fometimes 
equally  fugitive  with  the  gifts  of  fortune;  and 
that  a  fhort  intermifTion  of  attention  more  cer- 
tamly  JefTens  knowledge  than  impairs  an  eflate. 
To  afTifl  this  wcaknefs  of  our  nature  many 
methods  have  been  propofed,  all  of  which  may 
be  juftly  fufpeacd  of  being  inefFeftual ;  for  no  art 
of  memory,  however  its  effefts  have  been  boafted 
or  admired,  has  been  ever  adopted  into  general 
ufe,  nor  have  thofe  who  pofTelTed  it  appeared  to 
excel  others  in  readincfs  of  recoUeaion  or  mul- 
tiphcy  of  attainments. 

There  is  another  art  of  which  all  have  felt 
the  want,  though  Themiftodes  only  confelTed  it. 
Wc  fufFer  equal  pain  from  the  pertinacious  ad- 
hefion  of  unwelcome  images,  as  from  the  eva- 
nefcence  of  thofe  which  are  pleafing  and  ufeful ; 
and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  welhould  be  more 
benefited  by  the  art  of  Memory  or  the  art  of 
Forgctfiilncfs. 

Forget- 


L-. 


N'72.  THE  IDLER.  91 

Forgctfulnefs  is  neccflary  to  Remembrance. 
Ideas  are  retained  by  renovation  of  that  impref- 
fion  which  time  is  always  wearing  away,  and 
which  new  images  are  llriving  to  obliterate.  If 
ufelefs  thoughts  could  be  expelled  from  the 
mind,  all  the  valuable  parts  of  our  knowledge 
would  more  frequently  recur,  and  every  recur- 
rence would  reinftatc  them  in  their  former  place. 

It  is  impoflible  to  confider,  without  fome  re- 
gret, how  much  might  have  been  learned,  or 
how  much  might  have  been  invented,  by  a  ra- 
tional and  vigorous  application  of  time,  ufcleflly 
or  painfully  pafTed  in  the  revocation  of  events, 
which  have  left  neither  good  nor  evil  behind 
them,  in  grief  for  misfortunes  either  repaj/jd  or 
irreparable,  in  refentment  of  injuries  known 
only  to  ourfelves,  of  which  death  has  put  the 
authors  beyond  our  power. 

Philofophy  has  accumulated  precept  upon 
precept,  to  warn  us  againft  the  anticipation  of 
future  calamities.  All  ufelefs  mifery  is  certainly 
folly,  and  he  that  feels  evils  before  they  come 
may  be  defervedly  cenfured  ;  yet  furely  to  dread 
the  future  is  more  reafonable  than  to  lament  the 
paft.  The  biilinefs  of  life  is  to  go  forwards :  he 
who  fees  evil  in  profpeft  meets  it  in  his  way, « 
but  he  who  catches  it  by  retrofpeftion  turns  back 
to  find  it.  That  which  is  feared  may  fome- 
times  be  avoided ;  but  that  which  is  regretted  to- 
day may  be  regretted  again  to-morrow. 

Regret 


A 


if 

3     "* 


:  I 


41H 


0* 


THE   IDLER. 


N^ 


72. 


Regret  is  indeed  ufeful  and  virtuous,  and 
not  only  allowable  but  neceffary,  when  it  tends 
to  the  amendment  of  life,  or  to  admonition  of 
error  which  we  may  be  again  in  danger  of  com- 
mitting. But  a  very  fmall  ^art  of  the  moments 
fpent  in  meditation  on  the  paft,  produce  any 
reafonable  caution  or  falutary  forrow.  Moft  of 
the  mortifications  that  we  have  fufFcred  arofe 
from  the  concurrence  of  local  and  temporary 
circumflances,  which  can  never  meet  again; 
and  moft  of  our  difappointments  have  fucceeded 
thofe  expeftations  which  life  allows  not  to  be 
formed  a  fecond  time. 

•  It  would  add  much  to  human  happinefs,  if 
an  art  could  be  taught  of  forgetting  all  of  which 
the  remembrance  is  at  once  ufehfs  and  affli£live, 
if  that  paih  which  never  can  end  in  pleafure 
could  be  driven   totally  away,  that  the  mind- 
'might  perform   its   funftions   without  incum- 
brance, and  the  paft  might  no  longer  encroach ' 
upon  the  prefent. 

Little  can  bv  done  well  to  which  the  whole 
mind  is  not  applied ;  the  bufinefs  of  every  dav 
calls  for  the  day  to  which  it  is  aligned ;  and  he 
will  have  no  leifure  to  regret  y«fterday*s  vexa- 
tions who  refolves  not  to  have  a  new  fubjeft  of 
regret  to-morrow. 

But  to  forget  or  to  remember  at  pleafure  are 

equally  beyond  the  power  of  man.     Yet  as  me- 

mory  may  be  affiftcd  by  method,  aiid  theiecaya 

'     •  of 


n^ji'  THE  IDLER.  ,    93 

of  knowledge  repaired  by  Hated  times  of  recol- 
leftion,  fo  the  power  of  forgetting  is  capable  of 
improvement.  Reafon  will,  by  a  refolute  con- 
teft,  prevail  over  imagination,  and  the  power 
may  be  obtaiRed  of  transferring  the  attention  as 
judgment  (hall  dire£l. 

The  incuriions  of  troublefome  thoaghts  arc 
often  violent  and  importunate  ;  and  it  is  not 
eafy  to  a  mind  accuftom.ed  to  their  inroads  to 
expel  them  immediately  by  putting  better  images 
into  motion ;  but  this  enemy  of  quiet  is  above 
all  others  weakened  by  every  defeat ;  the  re- 
fle£lion,  which  has  been  once  overpowered  and 
ejefted,  feldom  returns  with  any  formidable 
vehemence. 

Employment  is  the  great  inftrument  of  intd- 
ledtual  dominion.  The  mind  cannot  retire 
from  its  enemy  into  total -vacancy,  or  turn  afidc 
from  one  objed  but  by  paffing  to  another.  The 
gldomy  and  the  refentful  are  always  found 
among  thofe  who  have  nothing  to  do,  or  who 
do  nothing.  We  muft  be  bufy  about  good  or 
evil ;  and  he  to  whom  the  prefent  offers  nothing 
will  often  be  looking  backward  on  the  pail. 


Numb* 


'     "^   »  iM 


94 


THE   IDLER. 


N«  73. 


Numb.  731     Saturday,  Septembers,  1759. 


THAT  every  man  would  be  rich  if  a  wifh 
could  obtain  riches,  is  a  poiition,  which  I 
believe  few  will  conteft,  at  Jeaft  in  a  nation  like 
ours,  in  which  commerce  has  kindled  an  uni-^ 
vcrfal  emulation  of  wealth,  and  in  which  money 
receives  ail  the  honours  which  are  the  proper 
right  of  knowledge  and  of  virtue. 

Yet  though  we  arc  all  labouring  for  gold  as 
for  the  chief  good,  and,  by  the  natural  effort 
of  unwearied  diligence,  have  found  many  ex- 
peditious methods  of  obtaining  it,  we  have  not 
been  able  to  improve  the  art  of  ufing  it,  or  to 
make  it  produce  more  happinefs  than  it  afforded 
in  former  times,  when  every  declaimer  expatiated 
on  its  mifchiefs,  and  every  philofopher  taught 
his  followers  to  defpife  it. 

Many  of  the  dangers  imputed  of  old  to  ex- 
orbitant wealth,  are  now  at  an  end.  The 
rich  are  neither  waylaid  by  robbers,  nor 
watched  by  informers ;  there  is  nothing  to  be 
dreaded  from  profcriptions,  or  feizures.  The 
neceflity  of  concealing  treafure  has  long  ceafed ; 
no  man  now  needs  counterfeit  mediocrity,  and 
condemn  his  plate  and  jewels  to  caverns  and 
darknefs,  or  feaft  his  mind  with  the  confciouf- 
ncfs   of  clouded  fplendour,  of  finery  which  is 

ufelefs 


N^73-  THE   IDLER.  95 

ufclcfs  till  it  is  ihewn,  and  which  he  dares  not 
ihew. 

In  our  time  the  poor  are  ftrongly  tempted  to 
aflume  the  appearance  of  wealth,  but  the  wealthy 
very  rarely  defire  to  be  thought  poor ;  for  we 
are  all  at  full  liberty  to  difplay  riches  by  every 
mode  of  oflentation.  We  fill  our  houfes  with 
ufelefs  ornaments,  only  to  Ihcw  that  we  can 
buy  them  ;  we  cover  our  coaches  with  gold, 
and  employ  artifls  in  the  difcovcry  of  new  fa- 
ihions  of  expence  ;  and  yet  it  cannot  be  found 
that  riches  produce  happinefs. 

Of  riches,  as  of  every  thing  elfe,  the  hope  is 
more  than  the  enjoyment;  while  we  coniider 
them  as  the  means  to  be  ufed  at  fome  future 
time  for  the  attainment  of  felicity,  we  prefs  on 
our  purfuit  ardently  and  vigoroufly,  and  that 
ardour  fecures  us  from  wearinefs  of  ourfelves  ; 
but  no  fooner  do  we  fit  down  to  enjoy  our  ac- 
quifitions,  than  we  find  them  infufiicient  to  fill 
up  the  vacuities  of  life. 

One  caufe  which  is  not  always  obferved  of  the 
infufficiency  of  riches  is,  that  they  very  feldom 
make  their  owner  rich.  To  be  rich,  is  to  have 
more  than  is  defired,  and  more  than  is  wanted ; 
to  have  fomething  which  may  be  fpent  without 
reluftance,  and  fcattered  without  care,  with 
which  the  fudden  demands  of  defire  may  be 
gratified,  the  cafual  freaks  of  fancy  indulged,  or 
the  unexpcdted  opportunities  of  benevolence  im- 
proved. 

6  Ava- 


.*s 


"^1 

3; 


96  THE    IDLER.  N*'  73. 

Avarice  is  always  poor,  but  poor  by  her  own 
fault.  There  is  another  poverty  to  which  the 
rich  are  expofed  with  lefs  guilt  by  the  officiouf- 
nefs  of  others.  Every  man,  eminent  for  eriu- 
berance  of  fortune,  is  furrounded  from  morn- 
ing to  evening,  and  from  evening  to  midnight, 
by  flatterers,  whofe  art  of  adulation  confifts  in 
exciting  artificial  wants,  and  in  forming  new 
fchemes  of  pvofufion.        •  . 

Tom  Tranquily  when  he  came  to  age,  found 
himfelf  in  pofleffion  of  a  fortune,  of  which  the 
twentieth  part  might  perhaps  have  made  him 
rich.  His  temper  is  eafy,  and  his  affeftions 
foft ;  he  receives  every  man  with  kindnefs,  and 
hears  him  with  credulity.  His  friends  took  care 
to  fettle  him  by  giving  him  a  wife,  whom,  hav- 
ing no  particular  inclination,  he  rather  accepted 
than  chofe,  becaufe  he  was  told  tliat  fhe  was 
proper  for  him. 

He  was  now  to  live  with  dignity  proportion- 
ate to  his  fortune.  What  his  fortur.e  requires 
or  admits  Tom  does  not  know,  for  he  has  little 
ikill  in  computation,  and  none  of  his  friends 
think  it  their  intereft  to  improve  it.  If  he  was 
fufFered  to  live  by  his  own  choice,  he  would 
leave  every  thing  as  he  finds  it,  and  pafs  through 
tlie  world  diflinguilhed  only  by  inoffenfive  gen- 
tlenefs.  But  the  miniflers  of  luxury  have  marked 
him  out  as  one  at  whofe  expence  they  may  ex- 
ercife  their  arts*    A  companion,  who  had  jufl 

learned 


N"73'  THE   IDLER.  -97 

learned  the  names  cf  the  Italian  Mailers,  runs 
from  fale  to  (ale,  and  buys  pidlures,  for  which 
Mr.   Tranquil  pays,    without    enquiring   where 
tiiey  Ihail  be  hung.     Another  fills  his  garden 
with  ftatucs,  which  Tranquil  wilhes  away,  but 
dares  not  remove.     One  of  his  Friends  is  learn- 
ing Architc£lurc  by  building  him  a  houfe,  which 
he  paffed  by,  and  enquired  to  whom  it  belonged  1 
another  has  been  for  three  years  digging  canali 
and  Tailing  mounts,  cutting  trees  down  in  one 
place,  and  planting  them  in  another,  on  which 
Tranquil  looks  with  fercnc  indifference,  without 
alking  wliat  will  be  the  coft.    Another  projector 
tells  him  that  a  water-work,  like  that  of  Fa^ 
failles^  will  complete  the  beauties   of  his   feat, 
and  lays  his   draughts    before   him ;    Tranquil 
turns  his  eyes  upon  them,  and  the  artift  begins 
his  explanations  ;  Tranquil  raifes  no  objeftions, 
but  orders  him  to  begin  the  work,  that  he  may 
cfcape  from  talk  which  he  does  not  undcrftand. 
Thus  a  thoufand  hands  are  bufy  at  his  cxpence, 
without  adding  to  his  pleafurcs.     He  pays  and 
receives  vifits,  and  has  loitered  in  publick  or  rii 
folitudc,  talking  in  fumtiier  of  the  town,  and 
in  winter  t3f  the  country,    witlrout   knowing 
that  his  fortune  is  impaired,  till  his  Steward  told 
him  this  morning,  that  he  could  pay  the  work- 
men no  longer  but  by  mortgaging  a  manor. 


Vol,  II. 


Numb. 


£. 


^ 


THE  IDLER. 


N^ 


74- 


f! 


■n^ 


■Numb.  74.    Saturday,  Stptemhtr  15,  1759. 

IN  the  mythological  pedigree  of  learning, 
Memory  is  made  the  mother  of  the  Mufes, 
.by  which  the  mailers  of  ancient  VVjfdom,  per- 
haps, meant  to  fhew  the  neceflity  of  ftoring  the 
mind  copiQuHy  .with  true  notions,  before  the 
imagination  (hould  be  fuffered  to  form  ii»Stioiis 
or  collect  cmbellifhments ;  for  the  works  of  an 
ignorant  Poet  can  afford  nothing  higher  than 
plcafing  found,  and  fiftion  is  of  no  other  ufe  than 
to  difplay  the  treafures  of  Memory. 

The  neceflity  of  Memory  to  the  acquifition  of 
Knowledge  is  inevitably  felt  and  univerfally  al« 
Jowed  ;  fo  that  i  •'icely  any  other  of  the  mental 
faculties  are  comi.  .only  considered  as  neceiTary  to 
.a  Student.  He  that  <idmires  the  proficiency  of 
another,  always  attributes  it  to  the  happinefs  o.f 
his  Memory  ;  and  he  that  laments  his  own  de- 
fers, concludes  with  a  wifh  that  Jiis  Memory 
was  better. 

It  is  evident,  >tliat  when  the  power  of  reten- 
tion is  weak,  all  the  attempts  at  eminence  of 
knowledge  muft  be  vain  \  and  as  few  are  willing 
to  be  doomed  to  perpetual  ignorance,  I  may,  per- 
haps, afford  confolation  to  fome  that  have  fallcji 
too  eafily  into  defpondcnce,  by  obferving  that 
.fuch  weakncfs  is,  in  my  opinion,  ver.y  rare,  and 

that 


N  •  74.  T  H  £  I D  L  E  R.  99 

that  few  have  rcafon  to  complain  of  Nature  as 
unkindly  fparing  of  the  gifts  of  Memory. 

In  the  common  bufinefs  of  life,  we  find  the 
Memory  of  one  hke  that  of  another,  and 
honeftly  impute  omilfions  not  to  invohmtary 
forgetfuhiefs,  but  culpable  inattention  ;  but  in 
literary  inquiries  failure  is  imputed  rather  to 
want  of  Memory  than  of  Diligence. 

We  coniider  ourfelves  as  defeftivc  in  Memory, 
either  becaufe  we"  remember  leis  than  we  defirc, 
or  lefs  than  we  fuppofe  others  to  remember. 

Memory  is  like  all  other  human  powers,  with 
which  no  man  can  be  fatisfiLd  who  meafurcs 
them  by  what  he  can  conceive,  or  by  what  he 
can  defire.     He  whofe  mind   is  mod  capacious 
finds  it  much  too  narrow  for  his  wifhes  ;    he 
that  remembers  moft  remembers  little,  compared 
with  what  he  forgets.     He  therefore  that,  after 
the  perufal  of  a  book,  finds  few  ideas  remaining 
in  his  mind,  is  not  to  confider  the  diiappoint- 
ment   as   peculiar  to  himfelf,   or  to   rcfign  all 
hopes   of  improvement,    becaufe   he  does    not 
retain  what  even  the  author  has  perhaps   for- 
gotten. 

He  who  compares  his  Memory  with  that  of 
others  is  often  toohafly  to  lament  the  inequality. 
Nature  has  fometimes,  indeed,  afforded  exam- 
ples of  enormous,  Vv'ondeiful,  and  gigantick 
Memory.  Scaliger  reports  of  himfelf,  that,  in 
his  youth,  he  could  repeat  above   an  hundred 

F  2  verfes, 


#1 


V  !. 


100  THE    IDLER.  N^.  74. 

vcd'cs,  having  once  read  tlvjiii ;  and  Banhicus 
declares  tliat  he  wrote  his  Commtnt  upm  Claudlan 
without  confnUing  the  text.  But  not  to  have  fuch 
degrees  of  Memory  is  no  more  to  be  lamented, 
than  not  to  have  the  (Ircngth  of  HercuUsy  or  the 
Uviftncfs  of  JchUUs,  He  that  in  the  diftribution 
of  good  has  an  equal  fliavc  with  common  men, 
mav  iulllv  be  contcntcil.  Where  there  is  no 
ilriking  difparity,  it  is  ditficult  to  know  of  two 
which  remembers  moil,  and  ftill  more  difficult 
to  difcovcr  which  read  with  greater  attention, 
which  has  renewed  the  firtt  impreflion  by  more 
frequent  repetitions,  or  by  what  accidental  com- 
bination of  ideas  either  mind  might  have  united 
any  particular  narrative  or  argument  to  its  for- 
mer ftock. 

But  Men^ory,  however  impartially  diftributed, 
fo  often  deceives  ourtruft,  thatalnioll  every  man 
attempts,  by  Ibmc  artifice  or  other,  to  fccurc  its 
fidelity. 

It  is  the  pnflicc  of  many  readers  to  note,  111 
the  margin  of  their  books,  the  moll  important 
patlliges,  the  llrongeft  arguments,  01  the  brightelt 
ilntlmcnts.     1  hus  thev  load  their  minds  vvit'ji 

•I 

hiperflnons  attention,  reprcfs  the  vehemence  of 
curiofiry  by  ufclefs  deliberation,  and  by  frequent 
interruption  break  the  current  of  narration  or 
the  chain  ofreafon,  and  at  lall  dole  the  volume, 
•and  fcrgct  the  paflages  and  marks  together. 

*6  Others 


N'74.  THE   IDLER.  io| 

Others  I  liavc  found  iinaltcnil-ly  ptiTuiulcd 
that  nothing  is  certainly  rcniembcicd  hut  Vvliat  is 
tianfcrihcil  ;  and  they  have  therefore  paffed 
weeks  and  montlis  in  transferring  large  (juota- 
tions  to  a  common-place  book.  Yet,  why  any 
part  of  a  book,  which  can  be  confuUcd  at  plca- 
fure,  Ihould  be  copied,  1  was  never  able  to  dif. 
cover.  The  hand  has  no  clofer  coricfpondcncc 
with  the  Memory  than  the  eye.  The  adl  of 
writing  itfelf  diftra^^ts  the  thoughts,  and  what  is 
read  twice  is  commonly  better  renK^mbcrcd  thai> 
what  is  tranfcribed.  'i'his  method  therefore 
confumestimc  without  aliitling  Memory. 

1  he  true  Art  of  Memory  is  the  Art  of  Atten- 
tion. No  man  will  read  with  much  advantage, 
who  is  not  able,  at  pleafure,  to  evacuate  his 
mind,  or  who  brings  not  to  his  Author  an  iiir 
tt;llc<ft  defecated  and  pure,  neither  turbid  witU 
care:,  nor  agitated  by  pleafure.  if  the  repolito- 
ries  of  thought,  are  already  full,  what  can  tlicy 
receive  ?  if  the  mind  is  employed  on  the  pad  or 
future,  the  book  will  be  held  before  the  eyes  in 
vain.  What  is  read  with  delight  is  commonly 
retained,  bccaufe  pleafure  always  feciires  attention  ; 

but  the  books  which  are  confulted  by  occafional 
ijeceffity,  and  perufcd  with  iippatieucc,  feldoqa 
leave  ajiy  traces  on  the  mind* 


'I 


t     5I 


,  r 
t 


F3 


Numb* 


102 


THE    IDLER. 


N' 


75- 


i\>h 


I 

li!  'J 


Numb.  75.     Saturday,  September  22^  1759. 

IN  the  time  when  Bapra  was  confidered  as 
the  School  of  4/ta,  and  flouriflied  by  the  re- 
putation of  its  profeflbrs  and  the  contiuence  of 
its  ftudents,  among  the  pupils  that  liftened  round 
the  chair  of  Albumascar  was  Gelaledd.n,  a  native 
of  Taurii  in  Ferfta,  a  young  man  amiable  in  his 
manners  and  beautiful  in  his  form,  of  bound- 
lefs  curiofity,  inceflant  diligence,  and  irrefiftible 
genius,  of  quick  apprehenfion  and  tenacious 
inemory,  accurate  without  narrownefs,  and 
eager  for  novelty  without  inconftancy. 

No  fooner  did  Gelahddin  appear  at  Baffora, 
than  his  virtues  and  abilities  raifed  him  to  dif- 
tindion.  He  pafTed  from  clafs  to  clafs,  rather 
admired  than  envied  by  thofe  whom  the  rapidity 
of  his  progrefs  left  behind  ;  he  was  confulted  by 
his  fellow-ftudents  as  an  oraculous  guicfe,  and 
admitted  as  a  competent  auditor  to  the  confer- 
ences of  the  Sages. 

After  a  few  years,  having  pafled  through  all 
tlie  exercifes  of  probation,  Gelahddin  was  in- 
vited to  a  Piofeflbr's  feat,  and  entreated  to  in- 
creafe  the  fplendour  of  Bajfora.  GelaUddin  af- 
fefted  to  deliberate  on  the  propofal,  with  which, 
before  he  conlidered  it,  he  refolved  to  comply  ; 

and 


t< 


a 


N^vs.       .     THE  IDLER.  103. 

and  next  morning  retired  to  a  garden  planted  for 
the  recreation   of  the  ftudents,    and,   entering, 
a  folltary  walk,  began  to  meditate  upon  his  fu« 
ture  life. 

**  If  I  am  thus  eminent,"  faid  he,  **  in  the 
**  regions  of  Literature,  I  fliall  be  yet  more  con- 
"  fpicuous  in  any  other  place :  if  1  fhould  now 
"  devote  myfelf  to  ftudy  and  retirement,   I  mufl 
pafs  my  life  in  lilence,  unacquainted  with  the 
delights  of  wealth,  the  influence  of  power,  the 
"  pomp  of  greatnefs,  and  the  charms  of  elegance, 
"  with  all  that  man  envies  and  defires,  with-  all 
*<  that  keeps  the  world  in  motion,  by  the  hope 
<•  of  gaining  or  the  fear  of  lofing  it.     I  will 
**  therefore  depart  to  Taurisy  where  the  Per/tan 
**  Monarch  refides  in  all  the  fplendour  of  abfo- 
**  lute  dominion  :  ray  reputation  will  fly  before 
<*  me,  my  arrival  will  be  congratulated  by  my 
«*  kinfmen  and  my  friends :  I  fhall  fee  the  eyes 
**  of  thofe  who  predifted  my  greatnefs  fparklin^ 
<*  with  exultation,  and  the  faces  of  thofe  that 
**  once  defpifed  me  clouded  with  envy,  or  coun- 
«'  terfeiting  kindnefs  by  artificial  fm.iles.     I  will 
**  fliew  my  wifdom   by  my  difcouife,  and  my 
V  moderation  by  my  lilence  ;  I  will  inftruft  the 
"  modeft  with  eafy  gentlenefs,  and  reprefs  th« 
**  oftentatious    by   feafonable    fupercilioufnefs. 
**  My  apartments  will  be  crowded  by  the  inqui- 
*'  fitive  and  the  vain,  by  thofe  that  honour  and 

F  4  **  thofe 


MM 


^1 


I  ill 


rt>4  THE   FDLER,  N«  75, 

**  thofe  that  rival  me ;  my  name  will  foon  reach 
*\  the  Court ;  I  fliall  fland  before  the  throne  of 
**  the  Emperor ;  the  Judges  of  the  Law  will  con- 
**  fefs  my  wifdom  ;  and  the  Nobles  will  contend 
•*  to  heap  gifts  upon  me.  If  1  Ihall  find  that  my 
•'  merit,  like  that  of  others,  excites  malignity,, 
**  or  feel  my  felf  tottering  on  the  feat  of  elevation,. 
**  I  may  at  laft  retire  to  academical  obfcurity,. 
*'  and  become,  in  my  loweit  Hate,  a  Pro- 
**  felTar  of  Bajf^ra.'' 

Having  thus  fettled  his  determination,  he 
declared  to  his  friends  his  deiign  of  vifiting, 
Tawhf  and  faw,  with  more  pleafure  thaa  he 
ventured  to  exprefs,  the  regret  with  which  he 
was  diriiiiifed.  He  could  not  bear  to  delay 
the  honours  to  which  he  was  deflined  ;  and 
thijrefors  hafte^  away,  and  in  a  fhort  time 
tutsred  the  capital  of  Perfi'?,  He  was  imme- 
diately immerfed  in  the  crowd,  and  paifed  un- 
obferved  to  his  father's  houfe.  He  entered, 
and  was  received,  though  not  unkindly,  yet 
without  any  exccfs  of  fondnefs  or  exclama- 
tions of  rapture.  His  father  had,  in  his  ab- 
ferice,  fuffered  many  lofles  ;  and  Gdakddin  was 
confidered  as  an  additional  burthen  to  a  falling 
family. 

When  he  recovered  from  his  furprize,  he 
Began  to  difplay  his  acquifitions,  and  pradtifed  all 
tije  art^  of  narration  and  difquifirioxi  i  but  the 

poor 


t^^^f^  THE    IDLER.  105 

pooF  have  no  leil\ire  to  be  plealed  with  elo-» 
queiice  ;  they  lieard  hb  arguments  wiihout  re« 
flection,  and  his  pleafantries  without  a  fmile. 
He  then  appHed  himfelf  fingly  to  his  hroiher* 
and  fifters,  but  found  them  all  chained  dgwn 
by  invariable  attenti(/n  to  their  own  foitun^8> 
and  infenfible  of  any  oth«r  excellence  tha» 
that  which  could  bi:ing  foucve  remedy  foe  in- 
digence. 

It  was  now  known  in  the  neighbourhood,  thaf 
GehUddin  was  returned,  and  he  f^te  for  fome 
days  in  expectation  that  the  Learned  would 
vitit  him  for  confultation,  or  the  Great  fbf 
entertainment.  But  who  will  be  pleated  or  in* 
itru6ted  in  the  maniions  of  Poverty  ?  He  thea 
fFeq;Uented  places  of  public  refort,  and  endea- 
voured to  attraft  notice  by  the  copioufnefs  ol^ 
his  talk.  The  fprightly  were  filenced,  and  went 
away  to  cenfure  in  fome  other  place  his  arro- 
gance and  his  pedantry ;  and  the  dull  liflencd 
quietly  for  a  while,  and  thai  wondered  why 
any  man  Ihould  take  pains  to  obtain  {o  muclv 
knowledge  which  would  never  do  him  good. 

He  next  folicited  the  Vificrs  for  employment- 
not  doubting  but  his  fervice  would  be  eagerly 
accepted.  He  was  told  by  one  that  there  was  no 
vacancy  in. his  office;  by  another,  that  his  merit 
was  above  any  patronage  but  that  of  the  Em"- 
peror ;.  by  a  third,   that   he   would,  not   forget 

F  5,  him  J 


ill- 


1 06 


THE  IDLER. 


N°7S, 


him  ;  and  by  the  Chief  Vifier,  that  he  did  not 
think  literature  of  any  great  ufe  in  public  bufi- 
nefs.  He  was  fom^times  admitted  to  their  tables, 
where  he  exerted  his  wit  and  difFufed  his  know- 
ledge ;  but  he  obferved,  that  where,  by  endea- 
vour or  accident,  he  had  remarkably  excelled,  he 
was  feldom  invited  a  fecond  time. 

He  now  returned  to  Baffora,  wearied  and  dif- 
gulled,  but  confident  of  refuming  his  former 
rank,  and  revelling  again  in  fatiety  of  praife. 
But  he  who  had  been  negledled  at  Tauris  was 
not  much  regarded  at  Bajfora  ;  he  was  con- 
(idered  as  a  fugitive,  who  returned  only  becaufe 
he  could  live  in  no  other  place  ;  his  compa- 
nions found  that  they  had  formerly  over- rated 
his  abilities  j  and  he  lived  long  without  notice 
or  efteemt 


Numb* 


N^  7.6- 


THE  IDLER. 


J07 


Numb.  76.     Saturday,  Sep'emhr  29i  1759- 
To    the    IDLER* 


.    Sir, 

IW  A  S  much  pleafed  with  your  ridicule  of 
thofe  (hallow    Criticks,     whofe    judgment, 
though  often  right  as  far  as  it  goes,  yet  reaches 
only  to  inferior  beauties,  and  who,  unable  to 
comprehend  the  whole,  judge  only  by  parts, 
and  from  thence  determine  the  merit  of  exten- 
five  works.    But  there  is  another  kind  of  Cntick 
i^ill  worfe,  who   judges  by  narrow  rules,  and 
thofe  too  often  falfe,  and  which,  though  they 
Ihould  be  true,    and  founded  on  nature,  will 
lead  him  but  a  very  little  way  towards   the  juft 
eftimation  of  the   fublime  beauties  in  works  of 
Genius ;  for  whatever  part  of  an  art  can  be  exe^ 
cuted   or   criticifed  by   rules,  that  par.  is   no 
longer  the  work  of  Genius,  which  implies  ex- 
cellence out  of  the  reach  of  rules.     For  my  own 
part,  I  profefs  myfelf  an  Idler,  and  love  to  give 
my  judgment,  fuch  as  it  is,  from  my  immediate 
perceptions,    without  much  fatigue  of  tlnnk- 
L;  and  1  am  of  opinion,  that  if  a  man  has 
not  thofe  perceptions  right,  it  will  be  vamjor 


io8  THE   IDLE H.      .      N»  76. 

him  to  endeavour  to  fupply  their  place  by  rules, 

whtcli  may  enable  him  to  talk  more  learnedly, 

but  not  to  diflinguifh  more  Acutely.     Another 

reafon  which  has  leflened  my  afFe£tion  far  the 

Hudy  of  Criiicifin  >s,  that  Criticks,  fo  far  as  I 

have  obferved,  debar  themfelves  from  receiving 

any  pleafure  from  the  polite  arts,  at  the  fame 

time  that  they  profefs  to  love  and  admire  them  : 

for  thcfe  rules,  being  always  uppermoft,  give 

them  fuch  a  propenfity  to  criticize,  that,,  inftead 

of  giving  up  the  reins  of  tl^ir  imagination  into 

their  Author's  hands,  their  frigid  minds  are  em« 

pfoyed  in  examining  whether  the  performance 

be  according  to  the  roles  of  art. 

To  thofe  who  are  rcfolved  to  be  Criticks  la 
fpite' of  Nature,  and  at  the  fame  time  have  no 
great  difpoiition  to  much  reading  and  ftudy ;  I 
would  recommend  to  them  to  aflume  the  cha- 
raSer  of  Connoifleur,  which  may  be  purchafed 
at;  a  much  cheaper  rate  than  that  of  a  Critick  in 
Poetry.  The  remembrance  of  a  few  names  of 
Pain^Sj^  with  their  general  characters,  with  a 
few  rules  of  the  Academy,  which  they  may 
pick  up  among  the  Painters,  will  go  a  great 
way  towards  making  a  very  notable  Connof- 
feur. 

With  a  Gentleman  of  this  caft,  I  vifited  Jaft 
week  the  Cartcom  ^t  Hamptcn- court ;  he  wasjuft 
returned  from  IteijyiL  Connoifleur  of  courfc,  iini 
of  courfe  his  mouth  full  of  nothing  but   the 

Grace 


I 


N 


THE  IDLER. 


76.  THE  IDLbK.  109 

Grace  of  RaffkelUi  the  Purity  of  Dmtnicbimf 
the  Learning  of  Potuffin^  the  Air  of  GuiJo^  the 
Greatnefs  of  Tafte  of  the  Charmhes,  and  the 
Sublimity  and  grand  Contorno  of  Michael  An" 
gth\  with  all  the  reft  of  taic  cant  of  Criticifm» 
which  he  emitted  virith  that  volubility  whicfe 
generally  thofe  orators  have  who  a^nne^t  no  idea» 
to  tlicir  wofds. 

As  we  were  pafiing  through  tlie  rooms,  in  our 
way  to  the  Galkry,  \  madie  him  obferve  a  whole 
length  of  Charles  the  firft  \xf  Vandyhty  as  a  per-- 
fe£t  reprefcotation  of  tlic  charafter  as  well  as  th^ 
figure  of  the  man.  He  agreed  it  was  very  §ae  ; 
but  it  wanted  fpirit  and  contraft,  and  had  not 
the  flowing  line,  without  which  a  figure  could 
not  poifibly  be  graceful.  When  we  entered  the 
Gallery,  I  thought  I  could  perceive  him  recoU 
lefting  his  Rules  by  which  he  was  to  criticiw 
Raffaelie,  I  Ihall  pafs  over  his  obfeTvation  of 
the  boats  being  too  little,  and  other  criticifms 
of  that  kind,  till  we  arrived  at  St.  Paul  preachings 
**  This,  fays  lie,  is  efteemed  the  moft  exeellcat 
of  all  the  Carmns. ;  what  noblenefs,  what  dig- 
nity there  is  in  that  figure  of  St.  Paul!  and  yet 
what  an  addition  to  that  noblenefs  could  Raffaelie 
have  given,  had  the  art  of  Contraft  been  knowa 
in  his  time ;  but,  above  all,  tlw  flowing  lin^ 
which  conftitutes  Grace  and  Beauty  !  Yo* 
would  not  then  have  feen  an  upright  figure  iland-^ 
iiig  e(juaUy  on  botk  legs,  ajud  hQtli  hands  iiretched 

forward 


1 


i  : 


liil 


110  THE   IDLER.  N°  76. 

forward  in  the  fame  direction,  and  his  drapery, 
to  all  appearance,  without  the  Icaft  art  of  diipo- 
fition/'  The  following  Piaure  is  the  Chargt  to 
Peter,  **  Here,**  fays  he,  **  are  twelve  upright 
figures  ;  what  a  pity  it  is  that  Raffadle  was  not 
acquainted  with  the  pyramidal  principle !  he 
would  then  have  contrived  the  figures  in  the 
middle  to  have  been  on  higher  ground,  or  the 
figures  at  the  extremities  {looping  or  lying, 
which  would  not  only  have  formed  the  group  into 
the  fhape  of  a  pyramid,  but  likewife  contrailed 
the  {landing  figures.  Indeed,"  added  he,  ''  1  have 
often  lamented  that  fo  great  a  genius  as  Roffaelle 
had  not  lived  in  this  enlightened  age,  fince  the 
art  has  been  reduced  to  principles,  and  had  had 
his  education  in  one  of  the  modern  Academies  ; 
what  glorious  works  might  we  then  have  ex- 
pefted  frgm  his  divine  pencil !" 

I  Ihall  trouble  you  no  longer  with  my  friend's 
obfervations,  which,  I  fuppofe,  you  are  now 
able  to  continue  by  yourfelf.  It  is  curious  to 
obferve,  that,  at  the  fame  time  that  great  admi- 
ration is  pretended  for  a  name  of  fixed  rcputa- 
tion,  objeaions  are  raifed  againft  thofe  very 
qualities  by  which  that  great  name  was  acquired. 

Thofe  Criticks  arc  continually  lamenting  that 
RrJaelU  had  not  the  Colouring  and  Harmony  of 
Rubem,  or  the  Light  and  Shadow  of  Rmbrant, 
without  confidering  how  much  the  gay  Har- 
mony of  the  former,  and  Affeaation  of  thq 

latter, 


N°76.  THE   IDLER.  Vt 

latter,  would  take  from  the  Dignity  of  RaffaeUe ; 
and  yet  Ruhcns  had  great  fiarmony,  and  Rem- 
brant  underflood  Light  and  Shadow  :  but  what 
may  be  an  excellence  in  a  lower  clafs  of  Paint- 
ing becomes  a  blemilh  in  a  higher ;  as  the 
quick,  fprightly  turn,  which  is  the  life  and 
beauty  ofepigrammatickcompofiiions,  would  but 
ill  fuit  with  the  majefty  of  heroick  Poetry. 

To  conclude  ;  1  would  not  be  thought  to  in- 
fer from  any  thing  that  has  been  faid,  that  Rules 
are  abfolutely  unneceflary  ;  but  to  cenfure  fcru- 
pulofity,  a  fervile  attention  to  minute  exa6tnefs, 
which  is  fometimes  inconfiftcnt  with  higher 
excellency,  and  is  loft  in  tlie  blaze  of  expanded 

genius. 

I  do  not  know  whether  you  will  think 
Painting  a  general  fubjea.  By  infcrting  this 
letter,  perhaps,  you  will  incur  the  cenfure  a  man 
would  deferve,  whofe  bulinefs  being  to  entertain 
a  whole  room,  ihould  turn  his  back  to  the  com- 
pany, and  talk  to  a  particular  perfon. 

I  am,  Sir,  &c, 


KuMPt 


V. 


lU 


THE  IDLER, 


^*  77' 


i-"i 


NuM3.  77*    Saturday^  Oifobtr  6,  1759, 

EASY  Poetry  is  univeifally  admired;  but  I 
know  not  whether  any  rule  has  yet  been 
fixed,  by  which  it  may  be  decided  when  Poetry 
can  be  properly  called  eafy.  Horace  has  told  us, 
that  it  is  fuch  as  every  reader  hopes  to  equals  but 
afttr  long  labour  findi  unattainaHe,  This  is  a  very 
loofe  defcription,  in  which  only  the  efFeft  is 
noted  -y  the  qualities  which  produce  this  efFe<^ 
remain  to  be  inveftigated. 

Eafy  Poetry  is  that  in  which  natural  thought* 
Ve  cxpreffed  without  violence  to  the  language. 
The  difcriminating  character  of  Eafe  confift* 
principally  in  the  di£lion,  for  alt  true  Poetry 
requires  that  the  fentiments  be  natural.  Lan- 
guage fufFers  violence  by  harlh  or  by  daring 
figures,  by  tranfpofition,  by  unufual  accepta- 
tions of  words,  and  by  any  licence  which 
would  be  avoided  by  a  Writer  of  Profe.  Where 
any  artifice  appears  in  the  conftruiftion  of  the 
verfe,  that  verfe  i»  no  longer  eafy.  Any  epi- 
thet which  can  be  ejected  without  diminution  of 
the  fenfe,  any  curious  iteration  of  the  fam^ 
word,  and  all  unufual,  though  not  ungrammati 
cal  (IruAuie  of  fpeecli,,  deflroy  tlie  grace  of  eafy 
Poetry. 

Tlie 


N"77-  THE   IDLER.  113 

The  firft  lines  of  Popii  Iliad  afford  exam- 
ples of  many  licences  which  an  cafy  Writer  muft 
decline. 


Achilles  wra/ff,  to  Greece  the  dirtfuljpriHg 
Of  WOC9  unnumbered,  hiafu*uly  Goddefs  fing. 
The  wrath  which  hurCdxa  Phuo*s  gloomy  nign 
The  fouls  of  mightj  cliiefs  uatimeiy  flaia. 

In  the  firfl  couplet  the  language  is  diftorted 
by  Jnvcifions,  clogged  with  fupcrfluities,  and 
clouded  by  a  harlh  metaphor  i  and  in  the 
fecond  there  are  two  words  ufed  in  an  un- 
common fenfe,.  and  two  epithets  infertcd 
only  to  lengthen  the  line;  all  tliefe  pra£tices 
may  in  a  long  work  eafily  bo  pardoned,  but  tliey 
always  produce  fome  degreo  o£  ohfcurity  and 
ruggednefs, 

Eafy  Poetry  has-  been  fo  long  cxtludcdby 
ambition  of  ornament,  and'  luxuriance  of 
imagery,  that  its  nature  feems  now  to  be 
forgotten.  AfFeftation,  however  oppofite  to 
cafe,  ifi  foraetiraes  miilaken  for  it ;  a«d  thofe 
who  afpire  to  gentle  elegance  coUeft  female 
phrafes  and  fafhionable  barbarifms,.  and  ima- 
gine that  flyle  to  be  eafy  which  cuftom  has 
made  familiar.  Such  was  the  idea  of*  the  Poet 
who  wrote  tlie  following  verfes  to  a  Counufi 

cutting  Faper* 

Pallas 


'?v 


\  4 


tJ^.J! 


m 


114 


THE    IDLER, 


N*  7T> 


JPallas  grew  vap'rijh  oncf  andoddy 

She  would  not  do  tht  Icaji  right  thing 
Either  for  Goddefs  or  for  God, 

Nor  work,  nor  play,  nor  paint,  nor  fing^, 

Jove  frown'd,  and  **  T Jfe  (he  cry'd)  thofe  eyer 
**  So  (kilful,  and  thofe  hands  fo  taper ; 

*•  Dofomething  cxqaifite  and  wife**— 
She  bow'd,  obey'd  him,  and  cut  paper. 

This  vexing  him  who  gave  her  birth, 
Thought  by  all  heaven  a  bumingjlmmt^ 

What  doesjln  next^  but  bids  on  earth 
Her  BurUnit9%  do  juft  the  lame  i 

Pa/iaSf  you  glyeyoviMf ^rangi  airj  I 

But  fure  you'll  find  it  hard  to  fpoil 
The  fenfe  and  tafte  of  one  that  bears 

The  name  of  Saviie  and  of  Bejie^^ 

Alas!  oiiebad  example  (hown^ 

How  quickly  all  the  fex  purfue  I 
See,  madam!  fee  the  arts  o'erthrown 

Between  ^ohn  Overton  and  you. 

It  is  the  pre.ogative  of  eafy  Poetry  to  be  un- 
derftood  as  long  as  the  l&nguage  lafts ;  but  modesr 
offpeech,  which  owe  their  prevalence  only  to 
modiih  fqlly,  or  to  the  eminence  of  thofe  that 
ufe  them,  die  away  with  their  inventors,  and 
their  meaning,  in  a  few  years,   is  no  longer 

known. 

Eafy 


N";?*  THE   IDLER.  ui 

Eafy.  Poetry  is  commonly  fought  in  petty 
compositions  upon  minute  fubjefts ;  but  eafe, 
though  it  excludes  pomp,  will  admit  greatnefs. 
Many  lines  m  Cato\  Soliloquy  are  at  once  eafy 
and  fublime  : 

*Tis  the  Divinity  that  iHrs  within  us ; 

*Tis  Heaven  itfelf  that  points  out  an  hereafter, 

And  intimates  eternity  to  man. 

-»— -  If  there's  a  Power  above  us, 

And  that  there  is  all  Nature  cries  aloud 

Thro*  all  her  works,  he  muft  delight  in  virttie, 

And  that  which  he  delights  in  muft  be  happy. 

Nor  is  eafe  more  contrary  to  wit  than  to  fub- 
limity  ;  the  celebrated  ftanza  of  Cowley,  on  a 
Lady  elaborately  dreffed,  lofes  nothing  of  its 
freedom  by  the  fpirit  of  the  fentiment ; 

Th'  adorning  thee  with  fo  much  art 

Is  but  a  barb'rous  ikill,  - 

♦Tis  like  the  poif  *ning  of  a  dart, 

Too  apt  before  to  kill. 

Coivley  fcems  to  have  poifefled  the  power  of 
writing  eafily  beyond  any  other  of  our  Poets, 
*  yet  his  purfviitof  remote  thoughts  led  him  often 
into  harihnefs  of  exprelTion.  fFalUr  often  at- 
tempted, but  feldom' attained  it;  for  he  is  too 
frequently  driven  into  tranfpofitions.  1  he 
Poets,  from  the  time  of  Drydcn,  have  gradually 

advanced 


I 


M  ' 


116 


THE  IDLER. 


advanced  in  cmbellifhment,    and  confequently 
departed  from  fimplicity  and  eafe. 

To  require  from  any  Author  many  pieces  of 
eafy  Poetry,  would  be  indeed  to  opprefs  him  with 
too  hard  a  talk.  It  is  lefs  difficult  to  write  a 
volume  of  lines  fwelled  with  epithets,  brightened 
by  figures,  and  ftiffened  by  tranfpolitions,  than 
to  produce  a  few  couplets  graced  only  by  naked 
elegance  and  fimple  purity,  which  require  lb 
much  care  and  Ikill,  that  1  doubt  whether  any 
of  our  Authors  have  yet  been  able,  for  twenty 
lines  together,  nicely  to  pbferve  the  true,  detini- 
tion  of  cafy  Poetry. 

Numb.  78.    Saturday,  OSiaher  13,  1759. 

I  HAVE  pafled  the  Summer  in  one  of  thofe 
places  to  which  a  mineral  fpring  gives  the 
idle  and  luxurious  an  annual  reafon  for  refort- 
ing,  whenever  they  fancy  themCelves  offended 
by  the  heat  of  Londan,  What  is  the  true  motive 
of  this  periodical  aflembly,  I  have  never  yet  been  - 
able  to  difcover.  The  greater  part  of  the  vifi- 
tants  neither  feel  difeafcs,  nor  fear  them.  What 
pleafure  can  be  expelled  moro  than  the  variety 
of  the  JQurncy,  \  know  not,  for  the  uuuibers 

are 


N°78.  THE  IDLER.  117 

are  too  great  for  privacy^  and  two  fmall  for 
diveriion.  As  each  is  known  to  be  a  fpy  upoa 
the  reft,  they  all  live  in  continual  reftraint ;  and 
having  but  a  narrow  range  for  cenfurc,  they 
gratify  its  cravings  by  preying  on  one  another. 

But  every  condition  has  forae  advantages.  la 
this  confinement,  a  fmalier  circle  affords  oppor- 
tunities for  more  exaft  obfervation.  The  glafs 
that  magnifies  its  obje£l  contrafts  the  fight  to  a 
point,  and  the  mind  muft  be  fixed  upon  a  fingle 
charafter  to  remark  its  minute  peculiarities. 
The  quality  or  habit  which  pafTes  unobferved  in 
the  tumult  of  fuccefTive  multitudes,  becomes 
confpicuous  when  Tt  is  offered  to  the  notice  day 
after  day  ;  and  perhaps  1  have,  witliout  any  dif- 
tinft  notice,  feen  thoufands  like  my  late  com- 
panions ;  for,  when  the  fcene  can  be  varied  at 
pleafure,  a  flight  difgufl  turns  us  afide  be- 
fore a  deep  impreffion  can  be  made  upon  the 
mind. 

There  was  a  fele£^  fett,  fuppofcd  to  be  dif- 
tinguifhed  by  fuperiority  of  intelle£ls,  who  al- 
ways paffedthe  evening  together.  To  beadmitted 
to  their  converfation  was  the  higheft  honour  of 
of  the  place  ;  many  youths  afpired  to  diftindtion, 
by  pretending  to  occafional  invitations  ;  and  the 
Ladies  were  often  wilhing  to  be  men,  that 
they  might  partake    tlie  pleafures   of  learned 

lociety. 

I  knov«r 


ill 


il'l  i 

:  lili  I 

'  HI  i 

m  i 

Sin 

'  i^ ' 


118 


THE    IDLER. 


I  know  not  whether  by  merit  or  deftiny,  I 
■was,  foon  after  my  arrival,  admitted  to  this  en- 
vied party,  which  I  frequented  till  I  had  learned 
the  art  by  which  each  endeavoured  to  fupport  his 
character. 

I    Tom  Stca^^y  was  a  vehement  aflertor  of  un- 
controverted    truth ;    and    by  keeping  himfclf 
out  of  the  reach  of  contradif^ion,  had  acquired 
ail  the  confidence  which  the  confcioufnefs  of  ir- 
Tefiftible  abilities  could  have  given.     I  was  once 
mendoning  a  man  of  eminence,  and,  after  hav- 
ing recounted   his  virtues,  endeavoured  to  rc- 
prefent  him    fully,    by  mentioning  his   faults. 
6Vr,  faid  Mr,  Steady ^  that  he  has  faults  I  can  eaftly 
believe,  for  vjho  is    without  them  ?  No  man.  Sir, 
is  now  alive,  among  the  innumerable  multitudes  that 
fivarm  upon  the  eartb,  however   wife,  or  huwevcr 
good,  who  has  not^  in  feme  degree^  his  fuilings  and 
his  faults.     If  there  be  any  man  faultkjs,  bring  him 
fourth  into  puhlick  view,  Jhew  him   optn'y,   and  let 
him  be  h'lOwn ;  but  I  will  venture  to  affirw^  and, 
till  the  contrary  be  plainly  Jhewn,  Jhall  always  main- 
t.fin,  that  no  fuch  man  is  to  found,    Ttll  not  me,  Sir, 
of  impeccability  and  perfe^ion  ;  fuch  talk  is  for  thofe 
that  are  fir  angers  in  the  world :  I  have  fecn  feveral 
nations,  and  converfed  with  all  ranks  of  people ;  / 
have  known  the  great  and  the  mean,  the  learned  and 
the  ignorant,  the  old  and  the  young,  the  clerical  and 
the  lay^  but  1  have  never  found  a  man  without  a 

fault ; 


'N'^7S.  THE   IDLER.  ii^ 

■fanlt ;  and  I  fuppofe  Jhall  die  in  the  opinion^  thai  to 
-bi  human  is  to  be  frail. 

To  all  this  nothing  could  be  oppofed.  I  lif- 
tened  with  a  hanging  head  ;  Mr.  S^teady  looked 
round  on  the  hearers  with  triumph,  and  faw 
€very  eye  congratulating  his  vi£lory ;  he  de- 
parted, and  fpent  the  next  morning  in  following 
thofe  who  retired  from  the  company,  and  telling 
them,  with  injunctions  of  fecrecy,  how  poor 
5/)n/^Jy  began  to  take  liberties  with  men  wifcr 
than  himfelf;  but  that  he  fupprefled  him  by 
a  deciiive  argument,  which  put  him  totally  to 
iilence. 

Dick  Snug  is  a  man  of  fly  remark  and  pithy 
fententioufnefs  :  he  never  immerges  himfelf  in, 
the  llream  of  converfation,  but  hes  to  catch  his 
companions  in  the  eddy  :  he  is  often  very  fuc- 
cefsful  in  breaking  narratives  and  confounding 
eloquence.  A  Gentleman,  giving  the  hiftory  of 
one  of  his  acquaintance,  made  mention  of  a  Lady 
that  had  many  lovers  ;  Then,  faid  Dick,  Jhe  was 
either  handfome  or  rich.  This  obfervation  being 
well  received,  Dkk  watched  the  progrefs  of  the 
tale ;  and,  hearing  of  a  man  loft  in  a  fhipwreck, 
remarked,  that  no  man  was  ever  drowned  upon  dry 
hnd, 

Will  Startle  is  a  man  of  exquifite  fenfibillty, 

whofe  delicacy  of  frame,  and  quicknefs  of  dif- 

cernment,  fubje£t  him  to  impreffions  from  the 

ilighteft  caufes  :  and  who  therefore  pafles  his  life 

7  between 


•i 


^ 


120 


THE  IDLER. 


mil 
'mi 


between  rapture  and  horror,  in  quiverings  of  de- 
light, or  convulfions  of  difguft.  His  emotions 
arc  two  violent  for  many  words  ;  his  thoughts 
are  ahvays  difcovered  by  exclamations,  f^ile, 
odims^  horrid^  deteftaUe^  ^nd  fweety  charm in^^  de- 
lighi/ui,  ajimijhing^  compofe  alraoft  his  whole 
vocabulary,  which  he  utters  with  various  con- 
tortions and  gefticulations,  not  cafily  related  or 
defcribed. 

Jack  Solid  is  a  man  of  much  reading,  who 
utters  nothing  but  quotations  ;  but  having  been, 
I  fuppofe,  too  confident  of  his  memory,  he  has 
for  fome  time  negleded  his  books,  and  his 
ilock  grows  every  day  more  fcanty*  Mr.  Solid 
has  found  an  opportunity  every  night  to  repeat 
from  Hudibras, 


Doubtlefs  the  pleaf«r«  is  as  great 
Of  being  cheated,  as  to  cheat  i 


And  from  Waller^  V 

Poets  lofe  half  the  praife  they  would  have  got, 
Were  it  but  known  that  they  difcrcetly  blot. 

Dick  Mijly  is  a  man  of  deep  rcfearch,  and  forci- 
ble penetration.  Others  are  content  with  fu- 
perficial  appearances  ;  but  Dick  holds,  that  there 
is  no  efFeft  without  a  caufe,  and  values  himfelf 
upon  his  power  of  explaining  tlie  difficulty  and 

dif- 


N«  78. 


THE    IDLER, 


121 


difplayiiig  the  abftrufc.     Upon  a  difpute  among 
us,  which  of  two   young  ftrangers  was   more 
beautiful,  Tou,  fays  Mr.  Mi/iy^  turning  to  me, 
like  ^maranthia  better  than  Chloris,     I  do  not  won- 
der at  the  preferencey  for  the  caufe  is  evident :  then 
is  in  man  a  perception  of  harmony^  and  a  fenfihiUty 
of  pe^feSilon,  which  touches  the  finer  fibres   of  the 
tnentdl  texture^  ani  before  Reafon  can  d>f and  from 
hir  throne y  to  pafs  hr  fentence  upon  the  things  com^^^ 
pared,  drives  us  towards  the  objeSf  proportioned  tt 
our  faculties,  by  an  impulfe  gentle,  yet  Irrefifiible  ;  for 
the  harmonlck  fy/iem  of  the  unlverfe,  and  the  reci» 
procal  magnetifm  offimilar  natures,  are  always  oper- 
atln^   towards   conformity  and  union ;  nor  can  thg 
powers  of  the  foul  c^afe  from  agitation,  till  they  find 
Jomething  on  which   they  can  repofe.     To  this  no* 
thing  was  oppofed  ;  and  j^-naranthia  was  acknow- 
ledged to  excel  Chloris. 

Of   the   refl   you   may    expeft    an  account 
from, 

Sir^  Yours, 

Robin  Sp^itely. 


Vol.  IL 


NVM». 


i22 


THE   IDLER. 


N"79. 


Numb*  79.    Saturday,  O^ohr  20,  1759. 


To  the  IDL  ER. 

S  I  R  , 

YOUR  acceptance   of  a  former  letter   oa 
Painting  gives  mc  encouragement  to  of- 
fer a  few  more  flcetches  on  the  fame  fubje^t. 

Amongft  the  Painters,  and  the  writers  on 
Painting,  there  is  one  maxim  viniverfally  ad- 
mitted and  continually  inculcated.  Imitate  Na- 
ture  is  the  invariable  rule  ;  but  I  know  none 
^ho  have  explained  in  what  manner  this  rule  i« 
to  be  underftood;  the  confequence  of  which  is, 
that  every  one  takes  it  in  the  moft  obvious  fenfe, 
that  obje^s  are  reprefented  naturally  when  they 
have  fuch  relief  that  they  feem  real.  It  may  ap- 
pear ftrange,  perhaps,  to  hear  this  fenfe  of  the 
rule  difputed  ;  but  it  muft  be  confidered,  thar^ 
if  the  excellency  of  a  Painter  confifted  only  in 
this  kind  of  imitation,  Painting  muft  lofe  its 
fank,  and  be  no  longer  confidered  as  a  liberal 
art,  and  fifter  to  poetry,  this  imitation  being 
merely  mechajiical,  in  which  the  floweft  intel- 
le6l  is  always  fure  to  fucceed  beft ;  for  the 
Painter  of  genius  cannot  ftoop  to  drudgery,  iu 
which  the  under ftanding  has  no  part ;  and  what 
pretence  has  the  art  to  claim  kindred  with  P£>etry 

but 


N°79« 


THE  IDLER. 


123 


but  by  its  power  over  the  imagination  ?  To  thii 
power  the  Painter  of  genius  dire£ls  him  ;  in  this 
fenfe  he  ftudies  Nature,  and  often  arrives  at  his 
end,  even  by  being  unnatural  in  the  confined 
fenfe  of  the  word. 

The  grand  ftyle  of  Painting  requires  this  mi- 
nute attention  to  be  carefully  avoided,  and  muft 
be  kept  as  feparate  from  it  as  the  ftyle  of  Poetry 
from  that  of  Hiitory.     Poetical  ornaments  dc- 
ilroy  that  air  of  truth  and  plainnefs  which  ought 
to  characterize  Hiftory  ;  but  the  very  being  of 
Poetry  confifts  in  departing  from  this  plain  nar- 
ration, and  adopting  every  ornament  that  wil! 
warm  the  imagination.     To  defire  to  fee  the  ex- 
cellences of  each  ftyle   united,    to  mingle  the 
Dutch  with  the  Italian  School,   is  to  join  contra* 
rieties  which  cannot  fubfift  together,  and  which 
deftroy  the  efficacy  of  each  other.     T\\q  Italian 
attends   only  to  the   invariable,  the  great  and 
general  ideas  which  are  fixed  and  inherent  in 
univerfal  Nature ;  the  Dutchy  on   the  contrary, 
to  literal  truth  and  a  minute  exa£ti>efs  in  the  de- 
tail, as  I  may  fay,  of  Nature  modified  by  acci- 
dent.    The  attention  to  thefe  petty  peculiarities 
is  the  very  caufe  of  this  naturalnefs  fo  much  ad- 
mired in  the  Dutch  Pidtures,  which,  if  we  fup- 
pofe  it  to  be  a  beauty,  is  certainly  of  a  lower  or- 
der, which  ought  to  give  place  to  a  beauty  of 
a  fuperior  kind,  fince  one  cannot  be  obtained 
but  by  departing  from  the  other. 

(^  ^  If 


ti 


■1 


^i\ 


« 


^iz4  THE   ID  LEU.  N''79. 

If  my  opinion  was  afked  concerning  the  work« 
cf  A'lichael  Jngelo,  whether  they  would  receive 
any  advantage  from  poflelfing  this  mechanical 
inerit,  1  fhould  not  fcruple  to  fay  they  would  not 
only  receive  no  advantage,  but  would  lofe,  in 
a  great  meafurc,  the  efre6l:  v.'hich  they  now  have 
on  every  mind  fufceptible  of  great  and  noble 
ideas.  His  works  may  be  faid  to  be  all  genius 
and  foul ;  and  why  fiiould  they  be  loaded  with 
heavy  matter,  which  can  only  counteraft  his 
purpofe  by  retarding  the  progrefs  of  the  imagina- 
tion ? 

If  this  opinion  fhould  b?  thought  one  of  the 
•wild  extravagances  of  Enthufial'm,  I  fhall  only 
■fay,  that  thofe  who  cenfure  it  are  not  conver- 
fant  in  the  Wo<rks  of  the  great  Mailers.     It  is 
■very   difficult    to    determine   the   exad  degree 
of  enthuiiafm  that  the  arts  of  Painting  and  Poe- 
try may  admit.    There  may  perhaps  be  too  great 
•an  indulgence  as  well  as  too  great  a  reftraint  of 
imagination  •,  and   if  the   one   produces   inco- 
'herent  monfters,  the  other  produces  what  is  full 
as   bad,  lifeleG  infipidity.     An  intimate  know- 
Jed?e  of  the  paflions,  and  good  fenfe,  but  not 
common  fenfe,  muft  at  lad  determine  its  limits. 
It  has  been  thought,  and  I  believe  with  reafon, 
that  Michad  J^geh  fometimes  tranfgrelTed  thofe 
Vimits;  and  I  think  I  have  ken  figures  of  hin^, 
of  which  it  was  very  difficult  to  determine  whe- 
jtlicr  tjiey  were  in  the  higheft  degree  fublime,  or  ex- 


tremely        B 


N-79-  THE    IDLER.  125 

ti-cmely  ridiculous.  Such  faults  may  be  faid  to  be 
the  ebullitions  of  Genius  ;  butat  leaft  he  had  this 
merit,  that  he  never  was  infipid  ;  and  whatever 
pafiion  his  works  may  excite,  they  will  always 
efcape  contempt. 

*  What  1  have  had  under  confideraticn  is  the 
fublimeft  ftyle,  particularly  that  of  Mrhoil  /!n^ 
gelo,  the  Homer  of  Painting.  Other  kinds  may 
admit  of  this  naturalnefs,  which  of  the  lowed 
kind  is  the  chief  merit;  but  in  Painting,  asm 
Poetry,  the  higheft  ftyle  has  the  leaft  of  common 

nature. 

One  may  very  fafely  recommend  a  little  more 
Enthufiafm  to  the  modern  Painters  ;  too  much 
is  certainly  >not  the  vice  of  the  prefent  age. 
The  Italians  fcem  to  have  been  continually  de- 
dining  in  this  refpea,  from  the  time  of  Mi  had 
Jngfio    to    that   of  Carh  Maratti,    and     from 
thence  to  the  very  bathos  of  iniipidity  to  which 
they  are  now  funk  ;  fo  that  there  is  no  need  ot 
remarking,  that  where  I  mentioned  the  Italian 
Painters  in  oppofition  to  the  Dutch,  I  mean  not 
the  moderns,  but  the  heads  of  the  old  Roman 
and  Bolognian  Schools ;  nor  did   1  mean  to  in- 
clude, in  my  idea  of  an  Italian  Painter,  the  Vene- 
tian  School,  which  may  be  faid  to  be  the  Dutch 
part  of  the  Italian  Genius.     1  have  only  to  add 
a  word  of  advice  to  the  Painters,  that,  however 
excellent  they  may  be  in  painting  naturally, 

G  3  they 


■v\ 


126 


THE  IDLER. 


N" 


79- 


they  would  not  flatter  thcaifclvcs  very  much 
upon  it ;  and  to  the  Connoilieurs,  that,  when 
tliey  fee  a  cat  or  a  fiddle  painted  fo  finely  that, 
as  the  phrafc  is,  It  looks  as  if  ya  cuiduke  U  uf>, 
they  would  not  for  that  reafon  immediately 
compare  the  Painter  to  Rnffuelle  and  JMichail 
AngclQt 


^i^^^4r.m^^^.r^^,^^^^^,:^r^^^^^^^^ 


Numb.  8o.     Saturday,  Os/ch.r2'j,  1759. 

THAT  every  day  has  its  pains  and  forrows 
is  univerfally  experienced,  and  almoft 
univerfally  confefled  :  but  let  us  not  attend  only 
to  mournful  truths  ;  if  we  look  impartially  about 
us,  we  fliall  find  that  every  day  has  likewife  its 
pleafures  and  its  joys. 

The  timei  s  now  come  when  the  town  is  again 
beginning  to  be  full,  and  the  rufticated  beauty 
fees  an  end  of  her  banifhment.  Thofe,  whom 
the  tyranny  of  Falhion  had  condemned  to  pafs  the 
fummer  among  fhades  and  brooks,  are  now  pre- 
paring to  return  to  plays,  balls,  and  affembhes, 
with  health  reftored  by  retirement,  and  fpirits 
kindled  by  expectation. 

Many  a  mind  which  has  languilhed  fomc 
months  without  emotion  or  delire,  now  feels  a 

fudden 


N''  8o'. 
fuddcn 


THE   IDLER, 


147 


renovation  of  its  faculties.     It  was  long 
ago  obfcrved  by   Pythu^roras,    that   Ability   and 
Nccellity  dwell  near  each  other.     She  that  wan- 
dered in  the  garden    without    fcnfe  of  its  fra- 
grance, and  lay  day  after  day   ftretclicd  upon  a 
couch  behind  a  green  curtain,  unwilling  to  v;ake 
and  unable  to  flecp,  now  fummons  her  thoughts 
to  conlider  which  of  her  laft  year's  cloaths  Ihall 
bcfcen  again,  and  to  anticipate  the  raptures  of  a 
new  fuit  j  the  day  and  the  night  are  now  filled 
with  occupation  ;  the  laces,  which  were  too  fine 
to  be  worn  among  rufticks,  are  taken  from  the 
boxes  and  reviewed  ;  and  the  eye  is  no  fooncr 
clofcd  after  its  labours^  than  whole  fliops  of  fiik. 
bufy  the  fancy. 

But  happinefs  is  nothing  if  it  is  not  known, 
and  very  little  if  it  is  not  envied.    Before  the  day 
of  departure,  a  week  is  always  appropriated  to  the 
payment  and  reception  of  ceremonial  vifits,  at 
which  nothing  can  be  mentioned  but  the  de- 
lights of  London,   The  Lady  who  is  haftening  to 
the  fcerie  of  aftion  flutters  her  wings,  difplays  hep 
profpeas  of  felicity,  tells  how  ftie  grudges  every 
moment  of  delay,  and  in  the  prefence  of  thofe, 
whom  Ihe  knows  condemned  to  ftay  at  home, 
is  fure  to  wonder  by  what  arts  life  can  be  made 
fupportable  through  a  winter  in  the  country, 
and  to  tell  how  often,  amidft  the  extafies  of  aa 
Opera,  (he  fhall  pity  thofe  friends  whom  Ihe  has 
left  behind.     Her  hope  of  giving  pain  is  feldoni 

G  4  difap* 


^  1 


^Il^l' 


l" 


m 


128  THE  IDLER.  N^  So. 

difappolnted  ;  the  afFeaed  indifFerence  of  one, 
the  faint  congratulaticns  of  another,  the  wilhes 
of  fome openly  confeOed,  and  the  filent  dcjeaioii 
of  the  refl,  all  exalt  her  opinion  of  her  own  fu- 
periority. 

But,  however  we  may  lahour  for  our  own  de- 
ception,  truth,  though  unwelcome,  will  fome- 
times  intrude  upon  the  mind.    They,  who  have 
already  enjoyed  the  crowds  and  noife  of  the  great 
city,  know  that  their  defire  to   return  is  little 
more  than  the  reftlelTnefs  of  a  vacant  mind,  that 
they  are  not  fo  much  led  by  hope  as  driven  by 
difguft,  and  wilh  rather  to  leave  the  country  than 
to  fee  the  town.    There  is  commonly  in  every 
coach  a  paflenger  enwrapped  in  filent  expeftatioir, 
whofe  joy  is   more  fincere,  and  whofe  hopes 
are  more  exalted.     The  virgin  whom  the  laft 
fummer  releafed  from  her  governefs,  and  who 
is  now  going  between  her  mother  and  her  aunt 
to  try  the  fortune  of  her  wit  and  beauty,  fuf- 
pe£ls  no  fallacy  in  the  gay  reprefentation.     She 
believes  herfelf  palling  into  another  world,  and 
images  London  as  an  Elyfian  region,  where  every 
hour  has  its  proper  pleafure,  where   nothing   is 
feen  but  the  blaze  of  wealth,  and  nothing  heard 
but  merriment  and   flattery ;  where  the  morn- 
ing  always  rifes   on  a   fhow,  and  the  evening 
clofes  on  a  ball ;  where  the  eyes  are  ufed  only  to 
fparkle,  and  the  feet  only  to  dance. 

Her 


>J^8o.  THE  IDLER.  129 

Her  aunt  and  her  mother  amufe  themfeives 
on  the  road  with  telling  her  of  dangers  to  be 
dreaded,  and  cautions  to  be  obferved.  She 
hears  them  as  they  heard  their  predeceffors,  with 
incredulity  or  contempt.  She  fees  that  they  have 
ventured  and  efcaped  ;  and  one  of  the  plea- 
fures  which  (he  promifes  herfelf  is  to  dete£t  their 
falfhoods,  and  be  freed  from  their  admonitions. 

We  are  inclined  to  believe  thofe  whom  we  do 
not  know,  becaufe  they  never  have  deceived  us. 
The  fair  adventurer  may  perhaps  liflen  to  the 
Idler,  whom  Ihe  cannot  fufped  of  rivalry  or 
malice  i  yet  he  fcarcely  experts  to  be  credited 
when  he  tells  her,  that  her  expedations  will  Hkc- 
wife  end  in  difappointment. 

Th«3  uniform  necelfities  of  human  nature 
produce  in  a  great  meafure  uniformity  of  life, 
and  for  part  of  the  day  make  one  place  likelano- 
ther:  to  drefs  and  to  undrefs,  to  eat  and  to  fleep, 
are  the  fame  in  London  as  in  the  country.  The 
fupernumerary  hours  have  indeed  a  greater 
variety  both  of  pleafure  and  of  pain.  The 
ftranger  gazed  on  by  multitudes  at  her  fli ft  ap- 
pearance in  the  Park,  is  perhaps  on  the  higheft 
fummit  of  female  happinefs  ;  but  how  great  is 
the  anguilh  when  the  novelty  of  another  face 
draws  her  w^orfhipers  avyay  \  The  heart  may  leap 
for  a  time  under  a  fine  gown,  but  the  fight  of  a 
gown  yet  finer  puts  an  end  to  rapture.  In  the 
firft  row  at  an  Opera  two  hours  may  be  happily 

G  ^  pafled 


f- 


i 


130 


THE   IDLER. 


N^8o. 


paired  in  liftening  to  the  mufick  on  the  llage,  and 
watching  the  glances  of  the  company ;  but  how 
will  the  night  end  in  defpondency,  when  fhe  that 
imagined  herfelf  the  fovereign  of  the  place  fees 
Lords  contending  to  lead  Iris  to  her  chair  ?  There 
is  little  pleafure  in  converfation  to  her  whofe  wit 
is  regarded  but  in  the  fecond  place  ;  and  who  can 
dance  with  eafe  or  fpirit  that  fees  Amaryllis  led 
out  before  her  ?  She  that  fancied  nothing  but  a 
fucceflion  of  pleafures,  will  find  herfelf  engaged 
without  defign  in  numberlefs  competitions,  and 
mortified  without  provocation  with  numberlefs 
afflictions. 

But  I  do  not  mean  to  extinguifh  that  ardour 
which  I  wifh  to  moderate,  or  to  difcourage  thofe 
whom  I  am  endeavouring  to  reftrain.  To 
know  the  world  is  necelTary,  fince  we  were  born 
for  the  help  of  one  another  ;  and  to  know  it  early 
is  convenient,  if  it  be  only  that  we  may  learn  early 
todefpife  it.  She  that  brings  to  London  a  mind 
well  prepared  for  improvement,  though  fhe  mifTes 
her  hope  of  uninterrupted  happinefs,  will  gain  in 
return  an  opportunity  of  adding  knowledge  to 
■vivacity,  and  enlarging  innocence  to  virtue. 


N 


TT  H*  » - 


6'    1! 


N"  8 1. 


THE  IDLER. 


«3» 


Numb.  8i.    S at ukd ay y November  s,  i7S9- 

AS  the  Engfijh  army  was  palTing  towards 
Quebec  along  a  foft  favanna  between  a 
mountain  and  a  lake,  one  of  the  petty  Chiefs  of 
the  inland  regions  ftood  upon  a  rock  furrounded 
by  his  clan,  and  from  behind  the  (helter  of  the 
bullies  contemplated  the  art  and  regularity  of 
Europ^^m  war.  It  was  evening  ;  the  tents  were 
pitched  :  he  obferved  thefecurity  with  which  the 
troops  refted  in  the  night,  and  the  order  with 
which  the  march  was  renewed  in  the  morning. 
He  continued  to  purfue  them  with  his  eye  till 
they  could  be  feen  no  longer,  and  then  ftood 
for  fome  time  filent  and  penfive.  * 

Then  turning  to  his  followers,  "  My  chil- 
««  dren  (faid  he),  I  have  often  heard  from  mea 
"  hoary  with  long  life,  that  there  was  a  time 
«'  when  ouranceftors  were  abfolute  lords  of  the 
♦«  woods,  the  meadows,  and  the  lakes,  wherever 
'  the  eye  can  reach,  or  the  foot  can  pafs.  They 
*  filhed  and  hunted,  feafted  and  danced,  and 
'  when  they  were  weary  lay  down  under  the 
*'  firft  thicket,  without  danger  and  without  fear, 
«'  They  changed  their  habitations  as  the  feafons 
"  required,  convenience  prompted,  or  curiofity 
«*  allured  them,    and   fometimes  gathered  the 

(J  5  *'  fruitt 


C( 


<( 


i 
i 

I 

i 


14  •< 
it 


m 


m 


132  THE  IDLER.  N^Si. 

**  fruits  of  the  mountain,  and  fometinies  fported 
♦*  in  canoes  along  the  coaft. 

**  Many  years  and  ages  are  fuppofed  to  have 
•*  been  thus  pafled  in  plenty  and  fecurity  ;  when 
**  at  lafl  a  new  race  of  men  entered  our  country 
•*  from  the  Great  Ocean.    They  inclofed  them- 
**  felves  in  habitations  of  ftone,  which  our  ancef- 
**  tors  could  neither  enter  by  violence,  nordeftroy 
"  by  fire.  They  iflued  from  thofe  faflnelTes,  fome- 
"  times  covered  like  the  armadillo  with  fliells, 
**  from  which  the  lance  rebounded  on  the  ftriker ; 
"  and  fometinies  carried  by  mighty  beafts  which 
•*  had  never  been  feen  in  our  vales  or  forefts,  of 
**  fuch  ftrength  and  fwiftnefs,  that  flight  and  op- 
**  pofition  were  vain    alike.      Thofe   invaders 
**  ranged   over  the  continent,   (laughtering  in 
**  their  rage  thofe  that  refifted,  and  thofe  that 
"**  fubmitted  in  their  mirth.     Of  thofe  that  re- 
•*  mained,  fome  were  buried  in  caverns,   and 
"  condemned  to  dig  metals  for  their  matters  ; 
**  fome  were  employed  in  tilling  the  ground,  of 
**  which  foreign   tyrants  devour  the  produce; 
**  and  when  the  fword  and  the  mines  have  de- 
"  flroyed  the  natives,  they  fupply  their  place  by 
**  human    beings  of  another  colour,    brought 
**  from  fome  dillant   country  to   perifh   here 
•'Under  toil  and  torture. 

**  Some  there  are  who  boaft  their  humanity, 
**  and  content  themfelves  to  feize  our  chaces 
"  and  fifhcries,  who  drive  us  from  every  track 

of 


C( 


(( 


N^8i.  THE    IDLER.  133 

*'  of  ground  where  fertility  and  plcafaiitnefs  in- 
**  vite  them  to  fettle,  and  make  no  war  upon  us 
**  except  when  we  intrude  upon  our  own  lands. 
"  Others  pretend  to  have  purchafed  a  right  of 
**  refidence  and  tyranny  ;  but  furely  the  info- 
*'  lence  of  fuch  bargains  is  more  ofFen five  than 
**  the    avowed  and  open   dominion  of  force. 
**  What  reward  can  induce  the  poflefTor  of  a 
**  country  to  admit  a  ftranger  more  powerful  than 
*'  himfelf  ?  Fraud  or  terror  muft  operate  in  fuch 
contrails  ;   either  they   promifed   proteftion 
which  they  never  have  afforded,  or  inflruflion 
*•  which  they  never  imparted.    We  hoped  to  be 
**  fecured    by   their  favour    from  fome    other 
**  evil,  or  to  learn  the  arts  of  Europe,  by  which 
**  we  might  be  able  to  fecure  ourfelves.     Their 
*'  power  they  have  never  exerted  in  our  defence, 
**  and  their  arts  they  have  ftudioufly  concealed 
"  from  us.     Their  treaties  are  only  to  deceive, 
**  and  their  traffick.  only  to  defraud  us.     They 
♦*  have  a  written  Law  among  them,  of  which 
"  they  boaft  as  derived  from  Him  who  made  the 
"  Earth  and  Sea,    and  by  which  they   profefs 
"  to   believe    that   man  will    be    made   happy 
«*  when  Hfe   fliall  forfakc   him.     Why  is  not 
*'  this  Law  communicated  to  us  ?  It  is  concealed 
**  becaufc  it   is   violated.     For  how   can   they 
"  preach  it  to  an  /nJian  nation,  when  I  am  told 
"  that  one  of  it^  firft  precepts  forbids  them  to  do 
•*  to  others   what  they  would  not  that  others 
*'  fliould  do  to  them  i 


tf  ' 


i 

i    I 


t  y^^^l 

i^ 

flHH 

'  H^^l 

'  WEM 

■  flu 

>  'i^^^i 

'^9 

1* 

pi 

i; 

MB 

134  THE  IDLER.  N^  81. 

**  But  the  time,  perhaps,  is  now  approaching 
**  when  the  pride  of  ufurpation  fhall  be  crufhed, 
**  and  the  cruelties  of  invafion  fhall  be  revenged. 
**  The  fons  of  Rapacity  have  now  drawn 
**  their  fwords  upon  each  other,  and  referred 
**  their  claims  to  the  dcciiion  of  war ;  let  us 
**  look  unconcerned  upon  the  f  ^ughter,  and 
**  remember  that  the  death  of  :  European 

**  delivers  the  country  from  a  tyrauc  and  a  .ob- 
**  ber;  for  what  is  the  claim  of  either  nation, 
**  but  the  claim  of  the  vulture  to  the  leveret,  of 
■•*  the  tiger  to  the  faun  ?  Let  thdm  then  continue 
**  to  difpute  their  title  to  regions   which  they 
**  cannot    people  ;  to  purchafe  by   danger  and 
**  blood  the  empty  dignity  of  dominion  over 
"  mountains  which  they  will  never  climb,  and 
**  rivers  which  they  will  never  pafs.     Let  us  en- 
*'  deavour,  in  the  mean  time,  to  learn  their  dif- 
**  cipline,    and  to   forge   their  weapons  ;  and, 
•'  when  they  Ihall  be  weakened  with  mutual 
♦*  llaughter,  let  us  rufh  down  upon  them,  force 
**  their  remains  to  take  Iheltcr  in  their  (hips, 
•*  and  reign  once  more  in  our  native  country.' 


if 


Numb* 


N'8a. 


THE  IDLER, 


t3S 


Numb.  82.    Saturday,  November  lo^  1759. 


To  the  IDLER. 


Sir, 

DISCOURSING  ill  my  laft  letter  on 
the  different  pra£\ice  of  the  Italian  and 
Dutch  Painters,  I  obfcrved  that  **  the  /taiian 
*'  Painter  attends  only  to  the  invariable,  the 
**  great  and  general  ideas  which  are  fixed  and  in- 
*'  herent  in  univerfal  nature.** 

I  was  led  into  the  fubje£l  of  this  letter  by  en- 
deavouring to  fix  the  original  caufe  of  this  con- 
du£b  of  the  Italian  Matters.  If  it  can  be  proved 
that  by  this  choice  they  feleded  the  moft  beauti- 
ful part  of  the  creation,  it  will  Ihew  how  much 
their  principles  are  founded  on  reafon,  and,  at 
the  fame  time,  difcover  the  origin  of  our  ideas  of 

beauty. 

I  fuppofe  it  will  be  eafily  granted,  that  no 
man  can  judge  whether  anyanimalbe  beautiful  in 
its  kind,  or  deformed,  who  has  feen  only  one  of 
that  fpecies ;  that  is  as  conclufive  in  regard  to  the 
human  figure  j  fo  that  if  a  man,  born  blind, 
was  to  recover  his  fight,  and  the  moil  beautiful 
woman  was  brought  before  him,  he  could  not  de- 
termine whether  fhe  was  handfome  or  not ;  nor, 
if  the  moft  beautiful  and  moft  deformed  were 

produced, 


M 


136  THE    IDLER.  N^  82. 

produced,    could  he   any   better  determine  to 
which  he  lliouid  give  the  preference,  having  feen 
only  thofe  two.     To  diftinguilh  beauty,  then, 
implies  the  having  feen  many  individuals  of  that 
fpccies.     If  it  is  aiked,  how  is   more   ikill  ac- 
quired by  the  obfervation  of  greater  numbers  ? 
I  anfvver,  that,  in  confequence  of  having  feen 
many,  the  power  is  acquired,  even  without  feek- 
ing  after  it,  of  diftinguifhing  between  accidental 
blemifhes  and  excrefcenccs,  which  are  continually 
varying  the  furface  of  Nature's  works,  and  the 
invariable  general  form  which  Nature  moft  fre- 
quently produces,  and  always  feems  to  intend  in 
her  produftions. 

Thus  amongft  the  blades  of  grafs  or  leaves  of 
the  fame  tree,  though  no  two  can  be  found  ex- 
aftly  alike,  yet  the  general  form  is  invariable  r 
a  Naturalift,  before  he  chofe  one  as  a  fample, 
w^ould  examine  many,  fince,  if  he  took  the  firft 
that  occurred,  he  might  have,  by  accident  or 
other  wife,  fuch  a  form  as  that  it  would  fcarce 
be  known  to  belong  to  that  fpecies  ;  he  feleds, 
as  the  Painter  does,  the  moft  beautifvJ,  that  is, 
the  moft  general  form  of  nature. 

Every  fpecies  of  the  animal  as  well  as  the  ve- 
getable creation  may  be  faid  to  have  a  fixed  or 
determinate  form,  towards  which  Nature  is  con-^ 
timially  inclining,  like  various  lines  terminating 
in  the  center  j  or  it  may  be  compared  to  pen- 
dulums vibrating  in  different  directions  over  one 

central 


N*=8a.  THE  IDLER.  157 

central  point ;  anc'  as  they  all  crofs  the  center, 
though  only  one  paiTes  through  any  other  point, 
fo  it  will  be  foiincl  that  perfeft  beauty  is  oftener 
produced  by  nature  than  deformity ;   I  do   not 
mean  than  deformity  in  general,  but  than    any 
one  kind  of  deformity.     To  inftance   in  a  par>- 
ticular  part  of  a  feature  ;   the  line  that  forms  the 
ridge  of  the  nofe   is  beautifiil  when  it  is  Orait  ; 
this  then  is  the  central  form,  which  is  oftener 
found   than   either   concave,    convex,     or  any 
other  irregular  form  that  (hall  be  propofed.     As 
we  are  then  more  accuftomed  to  beauty  than  de- 
formity, we  may  conclude  that  to  be  the  reafon 
why  we  approve  and  admire  it,  as  we  approve 
and  admire  cuftoms  and  fafliions  of  drefs  for  no 
other  reafon  than  that  we  are  ufed  to  them  ;  fo 
that  though  habit  and  cuftom  cannot  be  faid  ta 
be  the  caufe  of  beauty,  it  is  certainly  the  caufc 
of  our  liking  it :  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that 
if  we  were  more  ufed  to  deformity  than  beauty, 
deformity  would  then  lofe  the  idea  now  annexed 
to  it,  and  take  that  of  beauty  ;   as  if  the  whole 
world  (hould  agree,  that  yss  and  no  Ihould  change 
their  meanings ;   yes  would  then  deny,   and  m 
would  affirm. 

Whoever  undertakes  to  proceed  further  in  this 
argument,  and  endeavours  to  fix  a  general  cri- 
terion of  beauty  refpeamg  different  fpecies,  or 
to  fhew  why  one  fpecies  is  m:>rc  beautiful  than 
another,   it  will  be  required  ,10m  him  firft  to 

prove 


is 

t' 


s>I 


^1 
Si 


Sf      . 


13^  THE    IDLER.  N^  g^a. 

prove   that  one  fpecies  is   really  more  beautiful 
than  another.     That  we  prefer  one  to  the  other, 
and    with    very  good   reafoii,    will    be   readily 
granted  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  from  thence  that 
■we  think  it  a  more  beautiful  form  ;  for  we  have 
no  criterion  of  form  by  which  to  determine  our 
judgement.  He  who  fays  a  fwan  is  more  beautiful 
than  a  dove,  means  little  more  than  that  he  has 
more  pleafure  in  feeing  a  fwan  than  a  dove,  ei- 
ther from  the  ftatelincfs  o^  its  motions  or  its 
being  a  more  rare  bird  ;  and  he  who  gives  the 
preference  to  the  dove,  docs  it  from  fome  af- 
fociation  of  ideas  of  innocence  that  he  always 
annexes  to  the  dove ;  but  if  he  pretends  to  de* 
fend  the  preference  he  gives  to  one  or  the  other 
by  endeavouring  to  prove  that  this  more  beauti- 
ful form  proceeds  from  a  particular  gradation  of 
magnitude,  undulation  of  a  curve,  or  direftion 
of  a  line,  or  whatever  other  conceit  of  his  ima- 
gination he  fhall  fix  on  as  a  criterion  of  form, 
he  will  be  continually  contradiaing  himfclf,  and 
find  at  laft  that  the  great  Mother  of  Nature  will 
not  be  fubjefted  to  fuch  narrow  rules.     Among 
the  various  Eealbns  why  we  prefer  one  part  of 
her  works  to  another,  the   moft  general,  I  be- 
lieve, is  habit  and  cuftom  ;  cuHom  makes,  in  a 
certain  fenfe,  white  black,  and  black  white  ;  it 
is  cuftom  alone  determines  our  preference  of  the 
colour  of  the  Europeans  to  the  Mthiopians,,  and 
they,  for  the  fame  reafon^  prefer  their  own  co- 
lour 


N"^  Sj. 


THE    IDLER.  139 

1   fuppofc  nobody  will   doubt,  if 


lour  to  ours. 

one  of  their   painters  was  to  paint  the  Cioddcfs 
of  Beauty,    but   that   he   would   reprcfcnt   her 
black,  with  thick  lips,    flat  nofc,    and   woolly 
hair  ;  and  it  feems  to   me,  he  would  a£t  very  ^ 
unnaturally  if  he  did  not :  for  by  what  criterion 
will  any  one  difpute  the  propriety  of  his   idea? 
We,  indeed,  fay,  that  the  form  and  colour  of 
the  European  is  preferable  to  that  of  the  /Eihlo' 
pian  ;  but  I  know  of  no  other  reafon  we  have 
for  it,  but  that  we  are  more  accuftomed  to  it. 
It  is  abfurd  to  fay,  that  beauty  is  pofTefled  of  at- 
traftive  powers,  which  irrefiftibly  feize  the  cor- 
rcfponding  mind  with  love  and  admiration,  fincc 
that  argument  is  equally  conclufive  in  favour  of 
the  white  and  the  black  Philofopher. 

The  black  and  white  nations  muft,  in  refpeft 
of  beauty,  be  confidered  as  of  different  kinds, 
at  leaft  a  different  fpecies  of  the  fame  kind ;  from 
one  of  which  to  the  other,  as  I  obferved,  no  in* 
ference  can  be  drawn. 

Novelty  is  faid  to  be  one  of  the  caufes  of  beauty  : 
That  novehy  is  a  very  fufficient  reafon  why  wc 
fhould  admire,  is  not  denied  ;  but  becaufe  it  is 
uncommon  is  it  therefore  beautiful  ?  The  beauty 
that  is  produced  by  colour,  as  when  we  prefer  one 
bird  to  another,  though  of  the  fame  form,  on  ac- 
count of  its  colour,  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  ar- 
gument, which  reaches  only  to  form.  I  have 
here  confidered  the  word  Beauty  as  being  pro- 
perly 


i 


\l  I 

ll!      .  ' 


m 


i  ll 

3  l!i 
i: 


140  THE  IDLER.  N^g^. 

pcrly  applied  to  form  alone.  There  is  a  nc- 
ccfTity  of  fixing  this  confined  fcnfc  ;  for  there 
can  be  no  argumL-nt,  if  the  fcnfc  of  the  word  is 
extended  to  every  thing  that  is  approved.  A 
rofe  may  as  well  be  faid  to  be  beautiful,  becaufc 
it  has  a  fine  fmcll,  as  a  bird  becaufe  of  its  co- 
lour. When  we  apply  the  word  Beauty,  we  do 
not  mean  always  by  it  a  more  beautiful  form, 
but  fomething  valuable  on  account  of  its  rarity, 
ulefulncfs,  colour,  or  any  other  property.  A 
liorfc  is  faid  to  be  a  beautiful  animal  •,  but  had 
a  horfe  as  few  good  qualities  as  a  tortoife,  1  do 
not  imagine  that  he  would  b«  then  cllccmed 
beautiful. 

A  fitnefs  to  the  end  propofed  is  fard  to  be 
another  caufe  of  beauty  ;  but  fuppofing  we  were 
proper  judges  of  what  form  is  the  moft  proper 
in  an  animal  to  conftitute  ftrength  or  fwiftnefs^, 
wc  always  determine  concerning  its  beauty,  be- 
fore we  exert  our  underftanding  to  judge  of  its 
fitnefs. 

From  what  has  been  faid,  it  may  be  inferred, 
that  tlie  works  of  Nature,  if  we  compare  one 
fpecics  with  another,  are  all  equally  beautiful ; 
and  that  preference  is  given  from  cuftom,  or 
fome  aflbciation  of  ideas  ;  and  that  in  creatures 
of  the  fame  fpecies  beauty  is  the  medium  or 
centre  of  all  various  forms. 

To  conclude,  then,  by  way  of  corollary  :  If 
it  has  been  proved,  that  the  Painter,  by  at- 
tending 


W  82.  THE   IDLER.  Uf 

tending  to  the  invariable  and  general  ideas  of 
Nature,  produces  beauty,  he  muft,  by  regarding 
minute  particularities  and  accidental  dilcrimi- 
nations,  deviate  from  the  univerfal  rule,  ?\\(X 
pollute  his  canvas  with  deformity. 

Numb.  83.    Saturday,  Novmhr  I'jt  1759. 


To  the  IDLE  R. 


S  I  R, 


I  SUPPOSE  yon  have  forgotten  that  many 
weeks  ago  I  promifed  to  fend  you  an  ac- 
count of  my  companions  at  tlie  Wells.     You 
would  not  deny  me  a  place  among  the  moft 
faithful  votaries  of  Idlenefs,  if  you  knew  how 
^fien  I  have    recoilefted  my   engagement,  and 
v^oiitented  myfelf  to  delay  the  performance  for 
feme  reafon  which  I  durft  not  examine  becaufc 
I  knew  it  to  be  falfe  ;    how  oft^n  I  have  fitten 
down  to  write,    and  rejoiced  at   interruption  ; 
and  how  often  I  have  praifed  the  dignity  of  re- 
folution,  determined  at  night  to  write  in  tlic 
morning,  and  referred  it  in  the  morning  to  the 
quiet  hours  of  night. 

I  have  at  lad  begun  what  I  have  long  wifhed 
at  an  end,  and  find  it  more  eafy  than  I  expected 

to  continue  my  narration. 

Our 


f42  THE    IDLER.  No 83. 

Ouraflembly  could  boaft  no  fuch  conflellation 
of  intelledls  as  Clarendon's  band  of  Aflbciates. 
,\Ve  had  among  us  no  Sdden,  Falkland,  or  IVal- 
ler  ;  but  we  bad  men  not  lefs  important  in  their 
own  eyes,  though  lefs  diftinguifhed  by  the  pub- 
lick  ;  and  many  a  time  have  we  lamented  the 
partiality  of  mankind,  and  agreed  that  men  of  the 
deepeft  enquiry  fometimes  left  their  difcoveries 
die  away  in  filence,  that  the  moft  comprehenfivc 
obfervcrs  have  feldom  opportunities  of  imparting 
their  remarks,  and  that  modeft  merit  pafles  in 
the  crowd  unknown  and  unheeded. 

One  of  the  greateft  men  of  the  fociety  was 
Sim  Scruple,  who  Jives  in  a  continual  equi- 
poife  of  doubt,  and  is  a  conllant  enemy  to  con- 
fidence and  dogmatifm.  Sim's  favourite  topick  of 
converfation  is  the  narrownefs  of  the  human 
mind,  the  fallacioufnefs  of  our  fenfes,  the  pre- 
valence of  early  prejudice,  and  the  uncertainty 
of  appearances.  Sim  has  many  doubts  about  the 
nature  of  death,  and  is  fometimes  inclined  to 
believe  that  fenfation  may  furvive  motion,  and 
that  a  dead  man  may  feel,  though  he  cannot 
ftir.  He  has  fometimes  hinted  that  man  might 
perhaps  have  been  naturally  a  quadruped,  and 
thinks  it  would  be  very  proper  that  at  the  Found- 
ling Hofpital  fome  children  Ihould  be  inclofed  in 
an  apartment,  in  which  the  nurfes  fhould  be 
obliged  to  walk  half  upon  four  and  half  upon  two, 
that'  the  younglings,   being  bred  without  the 

pre- 


N^^3-  THE   IDLER.  143 

prejudice  of  example,  might  have  no  other  guide 
than  Nature,  and  might  at  laft  come  forth  into 
the  world  as  Genius  (hould  direft,  ere6t  or  prone^ 
on  two  legs  or  on  four. 

The  next  in  dignity  of  mien,  and  fluency  of 
talk,  was  Dick.  Wormwood,  whofe  fole  de- 
hght  is  to  find  every  thing  wrong.  Dick  never 
enters  a  room  but  he  fhews  that  the  door  and 
the  chimney  are  ill-placed.  He  never  walks  into 
the  fields  but  he  finds  ground  plowed  which  is 
fitter  for  paftuie.  He  is  always  an  enemy  to  the 
prefent  Fafhion.  He  holds  that  all  the  Beauty 
and  Virtue  of  women  will  foon  be  deftroyed  by 
the  ufe  of  Tea.  He  triumphs  when  he  talks  oa 
the  prefent  Syftem  of  Education,  and  telk  us 
with  great  vehemence,  that  we  are  learning 
Words  when  we  fliould  learn  Things.  He  is  of 
opinion  that  we  fuck  in  errors  at  the  nurfe's 
breaft,  and  thinks  it  extremely  ridiculous  that 
children  Ihould  be  taught  to  uie  the  right  hand 
rather  than  the  left. 

Bob  Sturdy  confiders  it  as  a  point  of  ho- 
nour to  fay  again  what  he  has  once  faid  ;  and 
wonders  how  any  man,  that  has  been  known  to 
alter  his  opinion,  can  look  his  neighbours  in  the 
face.  Boh  is  the  moft  formidable  difputant  of  the 
whole  company  ,  for,  without  troubling  himfelf 
to  fearch  for  rcafons,  he  tries  his  antagonill  with 
repeated  affirmations.  When  Bob  has  been  at- 
tacked for  an  hour  with  all  the  powers  of  Elo- 
quence 


I 


\ 


Ik, 


r:"''! 


ttl. 

m 
Ira- 


'iml 


144  THE   IDLER,        ^     N*  8^. 

qiience  and  Reafon,  and  his  pofition  appears  to 
all  but  himfelf  utterly  untenable,  he  always  clofes 
the  debate  with  his  fir  It  declaration,  introduced 
by  a  llout  preface  of  contemptuous  civility : 
**  All  this  is  very  judicious  ;  you  may  talk.  Sir, 
as  you  pleafe  ;  but  1  will  Hill  fay  whjit  I  faid  at 
iirft."  Boi  deals  much  in  Univerfals,  which  he 
has  now  obliged  us  to  let  pafs  without  ex- 
ceptions. He  lives  on  an  annuity,  and  holds 
that  that  there  are  as  many  Thieves  as  traders  ;  he 
is  of  Loyalty  unfhaken,  and  always  maintains, 
that  he  who  fees  a  Jacobite  fees  a  Rafcal. 

Phil  Gentle  is  an  enemy  to  the  rudenefs 
of  contradi£lion  and  the  turbulence  of  debate, 
Phil  has  no  notions  of  his  own,  and  therefore 
willingly  catches  from  the  laft  fpeaker  fuch  as 
he  lliall  drop.  This  flexibility  of  ignorance  is 
eafily  accommodated  to  any  tenet;  his  only  dif- 
ficulty is,  when  the  difputants  grow  zealous, 
how  to  be  of  two  contrary  opinions  at  once. 
If  no  appeal  is  made  to  his  judgement,  he  has 
the  art  of  diftributing  his  attention  and  his 
fmiles  in  fuch  a  manner,  that  each  thinks  him 
of  his  own  party  ; ,  but  if  he  is  obliged  to  fpeak, 
lie  then  obferves,  that  the  queftion  is  difficult; 
that  he  never  received  fo  much  pleafure  from  a 
debate  before  ;  that  neither  of  the  controvertifls 
could  h^.ve  found  his  match  in  any  other  com- 
pany ;  that  Mr.  Wormwood's  aflertion  is  very 
well  fupported,  and  yet  there  is  great  force  in 

•     what 


),i« 


N°83.  THE  IDLER.  145 

what  Mr.  Scruple  advanced  againft  it.  Hy  this 
indefinite  declaration  both  are  commonly  fatif- 
fied  ;  for  he  that  has  prevailed  is  in  good  hu« 
mour  ;  and  he  that  has  felt  his  own  weaknefs  is 
very  glad  to  have  efcaped  fo  well. 

I  am,  Sir,  Yours,  &c. 

Robin  Spritely. 


,^f^^^£v5?^^«^<7^^rt^^^^^5M?^J?^^!?^ 


Numb.  84.     Saturday,  Novemher  24,  1759. 

BIOGRAPHY  is,  of  the  various  kinds  of' 
narrative  writing,  that  which  is  moft 
eagerly  read,  and  moft  eafily  applied  to  the  pur- 
pofes  t)f  life.  \ 

In  Romances,  when  the,  wild  field  of  Pof- 
fibility  lies  open  to  invention,  the  iiicidentr 
may  eaiily  be  made  more  numerous,  the  viciffi- 
tudes  more  fudden,  and  the  events  more  won- 
derful;  but  from  the  time  of  life  when  Fancy 
begins  to  be  over-ruled  by  reafon,  and  cor- 
re£led  by  experience,  the  moft  artful  tale  raifes 
little  curiolity  when  it  is  known  to  be  falfe; 
though  it  may,  perhaps,  be  fonietimes  read  as 
a  model  of  a  neat  or  elegant  ftyle,  not  for  the 
fake  of  knowing  what  it  contains,  but  how  it 
is  written  ;  or  tbofe  that  are  weary  of  themfelves 
may  have  recourfe  to  it  as  a  pleafing  d-eam,  of 

Vot.lL  H  which, 


i\  i 


k 


)ii 


fe 


1  i 


i 


146  THE   IDLER.  Sr^, 

■which,  when  they  awake,  they  voluntarily  dif- 
mifs  the  images  from  their  minds. 

The  examples, and  events  of  hiftory  prefs,  in^ 
deed,  npon  the  mind  with  the  weight  of  truth  ; 
but  when  they  are  repofited  in  the  memory, 
tliey  are  ^ftener  employed  for  lliew  than  ufe, 
and  rather  diverfify  ,converfation  than  regulate 
life.  Few  are  engaged  in  fu^.h  fcenes  as  give 
them  opportunities  of  growing  wifer  by  the 
dpwnfall  of  Statefnjen,,or  the  defeat  of  Generals. 
The  llratagems  of  War,  and  the  intrigues  of 
Courts,  are  read  by  far  the  greater  part  of  man- 
kind, with  the  fame  indifference  as  the  adven- 
tures of  fabled  Heroes,  or  the  revolutions  of  a 
Fairy  Region.  Between  falfhood  and  ufelefs 
truth  there  is  little  difference.  As  gold  which 
he  cannot  fpend  will  make  no  man  rich,  fo 
knowledge  which  he  cannot  apply  will  wake  ,;io 
ij;ian  wife. 

The  mifcUievous  confequ&nces  of  vice  an4 
folly,  of  irregular  defires  and  predominant  paf- 
fions,  are  beft  difcovered  by  thofe  relations 
which  are  leveled  with  the  general  furface  of 
life,  which  tell  not  how  any  man  became  great, 
but  how  he  was  made  happy  ;  not  how  he  lofl 
tlie  favour  of  his  Prince,  but  h.ovv  he  became 
difcontenled  with  himfelf. 

Thofe  relations  are  therefore  common) ly  of 
moft  value  in  which  the  writer  tells  his  own 
llory.     lie    that   reco\^nts   the  life  of  another 

.<:.o;ii;iioBly 


K**84*  THE   IDLER.  147 

commonly  dwells  moil  upon  confpicnows  events, 
ieflens  the  familiarity  of  his  tale  to  increafe  its 
dignity,  ihews  his  favourite  at  a  diftance  deco- 
rated and  magnified  like  the  ancient  aftors  in 
-their  tragick  drefs,  and  endeavours  to  hide  the 
man  that  he  may  produce  a  hero. 

But  if  it  be  true,  which  was  faid  by  a  French 
Prince,  That  no  man  was  a  Hero  to  the  fervants  of 
hischamber^  it  is  equally  true,  that  every  man  is  yet 
Icfs  a  hero  to  himfelf.  H^  that  is  moil  elevated 
above  the  crowd  by  the  importance  of  his  em- 
ployments, or  the  reputation  of  his  genius,  feels 
lunilclt  affe^led  by  fame  or  bulinefs  but  as  they 
inliuence  his  domeftic  Ufe.  The  high  and  low, 
as  they  have  the  fame  faculties  and  the  fame 
fenfes,  have  no  Jefs  fimilitude  in  their  pains  and 
pleafures.  The  fenfations  are  the  fame  in  all, 
though  produced  by  very  different  occaiions. 
The  Prince  feels  the  fame  pain  when  an  in- 
vader feizes  a  province,  as  the  Farmer  when  a 
thief  drives  away  his  cow.  Men  tlius  equal  in 
themfelvcs  will  appear  equal  in  honeft  and  im- 
partial Biography  ;  and  thofe  whom  Fortune  or 
Nature  place  at  the  greateft  diftance  may  afford 
inftru6tion  to  each  other. 

The  writer  of  his  own  life  has  at  leaft  the  firft 
qualification  of  an  Hiftorian,  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth  ;  and  though  it  may  be  plaufibly  ob- 
jected that  his  temptations  to  difguife  it  are  equal 
to  his  opportunities  of  knowing  it,  yet  I  cannot 

H  2  bat 


"%} 


4 


i!    '■ 


THE  IDLER.  N^  84. 

b\lt  think  that  impartiality  may  be  expefted  with 
equal  confidence  from  him  that  relates  the  paf- 
fages  of  his  own  life,  as  from  him  that  delivers 
tlie  tranfa«5^ions  of  another. 

Certainty  of  knowledge  not  only  excludes 
miftake,  but  fortifies  veracity.  What  we  col- 
left  by  conjefture,  and  by  conjefture  only  can 
one  man  judgf  of  another's  motives  or  fenti- 
ments,  is  eafily  modified  by  fancy  or  by  defire ;  as 
obje£ts  imperfeftly  difcerned  take  forms  from 
the  hope  or  fear  of  the  beholder.  Bxit  that 
which  is  fully  known  cannot  be  falfified  but 
with  reluftance  of  underftanding,  and  alarm  of 
confcience ;  of  Underftanding,  the  lover  of 
Truth  ;  of  Gonfcience,  the  fentinel  of  Virtue. 

He  that  writes  the  Life  of  another  is  either 
his  friend  or  his  enemy,  and  wifhes  either 
to  exalt  his  praife  or  aggravate  his  infamy  ;  many 
temptations  to  falfehood  will  occur  in  the  dif- 
guife  of  paffions,  too  fpecious  to  fear  much  re- 
liftance.  Love  of  Virtue  will  animate  Panegy- 
rick,  and  Hatred  of  Wickednefs  embitter  Ccn- 
fure.  The  Zeal  of  Gratitude,  the  Ardour  of 
Patrlotifm,  Fondnefs  for  an  Opinion,  or  Fide- 
lity to  a. Party,  may  eafily  overpower  the  vigi- 
lance of  a  mind  habitually  well  difpofed,  and 
prevail  over  unaffifted  and  unfriended  Veracity. 

But  he  that  fpeaks  of  himfelf  has  no  motive 
to  Fallhood  or  Partiality  except  Self-love,  by 
which  all  hav»  fo  often  been  betrayed,  that  all 
are  on  the  watch  agaiuft  its  artifices.    He  that 

writes 


K'84. 


THE  IDLER, 


«49 


writes  an  Apology  for  a  fingk  a£tion,  to  con- 
fute an  Accufation,  to  recommend  himfelf  to 
Favour,  is  indeed  always  to  be  fufpe£tcd  of  fa- 
vouring his  own  caufe  -,  but  be  that  fits  down 
calmly  and  voluntarily  to  review  his  Life  for 
the  admonition  of  Pofterity,  or  to  amufe  him- 
felf,  and  leaves  this  account  unpublilhed,  may 
be  commonly  prefumcd  to  tell  Truth,  fince 
Fallhood  cannot  appeafe  his  own  Mind,  and 
Fame  will  not  be  heard  beneath  the  Tomb. 


,;^^0HfJ^i^^^k,f^^0N€^fS^0^f^^^it^ 


Njwtb.  85.    Saturday,  Decmbtr  i,  1759, 


s 


ONE  of  the  peculiarities  which  diftinguiih 
the  prefent  age  is  the  multiplication  of 
books.  Every  day  brigns  new  advertifements 
of  literary  undertakings  j  and  we.  are  flattered 
with  repeated  promifes  of  growing  wife  on  eaficr 
terms  than  pur  progenitors. 

How  much  either  happinefs  or  knowledge  is 
advanced  by  this  mtiltitude  of  Authors,  it  is  not 
very  eafy  to  decide. 

He  that  teaches  us  any  thing  which  we  knew 
not  before,  is  undoubtedly  to  be  reverenced  as  a 
Mailer.  He  that  conveys  knowledge  by  more 
pleafing  ways  may  very  properly  be  Joved  as  a 
benefactor ;  and  he  that  fupplies  life  with  inno- 


H 


cent 


m 


>50  T  H  E  I  D  L  E  R.  N°  55. 

cent  amufement  will  be  certainly  carefled  as  a 
plealing  companion. 

But  fdw  of  thofe  who  fill  the  world  with 
"books  have  any  pretenfions  to  the  hope  either 
©f  pleafing  or  inftrufting.  They  have  often  no 
other  tafk  than  to  lay  two  books  before  them, 
out  of  which  they  compile  a  third,  without  any 
new  materials  of  their  own,  and  witii  very  little 
application  of  judgment  to  thofe  which  former 
Authors  have  fupplied. 

That  all  compilations  are  ufelefs  I  do  not  af- 
fert.  Particles  of  Science  are  often  very  widely 
fcattercd.  Writers  of  cxteniivc  comprchenfion 
have  incidental  remarks  upon  topicks  very  re- 
mote from  the  principal  lubjefl,  which  are  of- 
ten more  valuable  than  formal  treatifes,  and 
which  yet  are  not  known  becaufe  they  are  not 
promifed  in  the  title.  He  that  collects  thofe 
under  proper  heads  is  very  laudably  employed  ; 
for  though  he  exerts  no  great  abilities  in  the 
work,  he  facilitates  the  progrefs  of  others,  and 
by  making  that  eafy  of  attainment  which  is  al- 
ready written  may  give  fome  mind,  more  vigo- 
rous or  more  adventurous  than  his  own,  leifute 
for  new  thoughts  and  original  defigns. 

But  the  colleftions  poured  lately  from  the 
prefs  have  been  feldom  made  at  any  great  ex- 
pence  of  time  or  inquiry,  and  therefore  only 
ferve  to  diftrad  choice  without  fupplying  any 
veal  want. 

It 


Kog^,  THE  IDLERV  r^r 

It  is  obferved  that  a  cmupt  Socitty  has  many 
lawi  i  1  know  not  whether  it  is  not  equally  true, 
that  an  ignorant  Jge  has  many  Books.  When  the 
freafures  of  ancient  knowledge  lye  unexamined, 
and  original  Authors  are  negleaed  and  forgotten. 
Compilers  and  Pkgiaries  are  encouraged,  who 
give  us  again  what  we  had  before,  and  grow 
great  by  fetting  before  us  what  our  own  flotU 
had  hidden  from  our  view.  .     .     .    ' 

Yet  are  not  even  thefe  Writers  to  be  indifcri- 
minately   cenfured   and   rejeaed.     Truth   like 
Beauty  varies  its  fafliions,  and  is  beft  recom- 
mended  by  difFcrent  drefles  to  different  mmds  ; 
and  he,  that  recalls  the  attention  of  mankind 
ro  any  part  of  learning  which  time  has  left  be- 
hind it,  may  be  truly  faid  to  advance  the  lite- 
rature of  his  own  age.     As  the  manners  of  na- 
tions vary,  new  topicks  of  perfuafion  become 
neceflary,   and  new  combinations  of  imagery  are 
produced  j  and  he  that  can  accommodate  himfe^f 
to  the  reigning  tafte,  may  always  have  readers 
who  perhaps,  would  not  have  looked  upon  better 

performances. 

To  exaa  of  every  man  who  writes  that  he 
fhould  fay  fomething  new,  would  be  to  reduce 
Authors  to  a  fmall  number  ;  to  oblige  the  moil 
fertile  Genius  to  fay  only  what  Fs  new,  would 
be  to  contraa  his  volumes  to  a  few  pages.  Yet, 
furely,  there  ought  to  be  fome  bounds  to  repeti- 
tion ;  libraries  ought  no  more  to  be  heaped  for 

H  A  ever 


t 


'I . 


M  . 


L'  i 


15a  THE  IDLER.  ^^"85. 

ever  with  the  fame  thoughts  differently  ex- 
prefled,  than  with  the  fame  books  differently  de- 
corated. 

The  good  or  evil  which  thefe  fecondary  Wri- 
ters produce  is  feldom  of  any  long  duration. 
As  they  owe  their  exiftence  to  change  of  fafhion, 
they  commonly  difappear  when  a  new  faihioii 
becomes  prevalent.  The  Autljors  that  in  any  na- 
tion  laft  from  age  to  age  are  very  few,  becaufc 
there  are  very  feiy  that  have  any  other  claim  to 
notice  than  that  they  catch  hold  on  prefent  cu- 
liofity,  and  gratify  fome  accidental  dcfirc,  or  pro- 
duce fome  temporary  conveniency. 

But  however  the  Writer?  of  the  Day  may  de- 
fpair  of  future  Fame,  they  ought  at  leaft  to  for- 
Jjfar  any  prefem  mifchief.  Though  they  can- 
.pot  arrive  at  eminent  height*  of  excellence, 
tjiey  mightkeep  ihemfelvesharmJefs.  Theymight 
take  care  to  inform  themfelves  before  they  at- 
tempt to  inform  others,  and  exert  the  little 
influence  wnidi  they  have  for  honeft  purpofes. 

But  fuch  is  the  prefent  flate  of  our  literature, 
that  the  ancient  Sage,  who  thought  a  great  Book 
^  great  EvU,  would  now  think  the  multitude  of 
Books  a  multitude  of  Evils.  He  would  con- 
fider  a  bulky  Writer  who  engroffed  a  year,  and 
9.  fwarm  of  Pamphleteers  who  ftolc  each  an 
Jiour,  as  equal  wallers  of  human  life,  and  would 
inake  no  other  difference  between  them,  tlian 
between  a  gcftjl  pf  fyey,  aji^  ^^  f  Ijght  of  Lo- 

Numb. 


N'  38. 


THE  IDLER. 


»53 


Numb.  S6.    Saturday,  i^/^/w^/^"  8,  i'jS9* 
To    the    IDLE  R. 

Sir, 

I  AM  a  yoang  Lady  newly  married  to  a  young 
Gentleman.  Our  Fortune  is  large,  our 
Minds  are  vacant,  our  Difpofitions  gay,  our 
Acquaintances  numerous,  and  our  Relations 
fplendid.  We  confidered  tliat  Marriage,  like 
Life,  has  its  Youth,  that  the  firll  year  is  tlic 
year  of  Gaiety  and  Revel,  and  refolved  to  fee  th© 
Shews  and  feel  the  Joys  of  London  before  the  in- 
creaie  of  our  family  fhould  confine  us  to  domef- 
tick  Cares  and  domeftick  Plcafures. 

Little  time  was  fpcnt  in  preparation;  th^ 
coach  was  harnaffed,  and  a  few  days  brought  us 
to  Lendan,  and  we  alighted  at  a  lodging  pro- 
vidsd  for  us  by  Mik  Biddy  %'ifie,  a  maidea 
niece  of  my  hufband's  father,  where  we  found 
Apartments  on  a  fecond  floor,  which  my  coulin 
told  us  would  fcrvc  us  till  wc  could  pleafe  our- 
fclves  with  a  more  commodious  and  elegant 
habitation,  and  which  the  had  taken  at  a  very 
high  price,  bccaufe  it  was  not  worth  the  while  to* 
make  a  hard  bargain  for  fo  fhorta  time. 

Here  1  intended  to  lie  concealed  till  my  netjr 
cloaths  were  made^  and  my  new  lodgin^^  hired ; 

H  5  l>ttfe 


HHi 


I 


.., 


154  THE    IDLER.  N  86. 

but  Mifs  Trip  had  fo  induftriouny  given  norice 
of  our  arrival  to  all  her  acquaintance,  that  Iliad 
the  mortification  next  day  of  feeing  the  door 
thronged  with  painted  coaches,  and  chairs  with 
coronets,  and  was  obliged  to  receive  all  my 
hufband*s  relations  on  a  fecond  floor. 

Inconveniences  are  often  balanced  by  fome 
advantage  :  the  elevation  of  my  Apartments  fur- 
nilhed  a  fubjcft  for  converfation,  which,  with- 
out fome  fuch  help,  wefhould  have  been  in  dan- 
ger of  wanting.  Lady  Stawly  told  us  how  many 
years  had  pafTed  fmce  (he  climbed  fo  many  fteps.. 
Mifs  ^/7  ran  to  the  window,  and  thought  it 
charming  to  fee  the  walkers  fo  little  in  the  flreet ; 
and  Mifs  Gentle  went  to  try  the  fame  experi- 
ment, and  fcreamed  to  find  herfelf  fo  far  above 
the  ground. 

They  all  knew  that  we  intended  to  remove^ 
and  therefore  all  gave  me  advice  about  a  proper 
choice.  One  flreet  was  recommended  for  tlifi 
purity  of  its  air,  another  for  its  freedom  from 
noife,  another  for  its  nearnefs  to  the  Park,  ano- 
ther becaufe  there  was  but  a  ftep  from  it  to  all 
places  of  Diverfion,  and  another,  becaufe  its  in- 
habitants enjoyed  at  once  the  town  and  country. 
I  had  civility  enough  to  hear  every  recommen^ 
teion  with  a  look  of  curiofity  while  it  was  made, 
'and  of  aquiefcence  when  it  was  concluded,  but 
in  my  heart  felt  no  other  defire  than  to  be  free 
fromtJ^e  djfgracc  of  a  fccood  floor,  and  carejd 

liuie 


*-^r~%^       ^t^L. 


N°86. 


THE  IDLER. 


'55 


little  where  I  ihould  fix,  if  the  Apartments  were 
fpacious  and  fplendid. 

Next  day  a  chariot  was  hired,  and  Mifs  Trifii 
was  difpatched  to  find  a  lodging.  She  returned 
in  the  afternoon,  with  an  account  of  a  charm- 
ing place,  to  which  my  hulband  went  in  the 
morning  to  makf  the  contract.  Being  young  and 
unexperienced,  he  took  with  him  his  friend  Ned 
^ici,  a  gentleman  of  great  fkill  in  rooms  and 
furniture,  who  fees,  at  a  fingle  glance,  what- 
ever there  is  to  be  commended  orcenfured.  Mr, 
^dick^  at  the  firft  view  of  the  houfe,  declared 
that  it  could  not  be  inhabited,  for  the  Sun  in 
the  afternoon  (hone  with  full  glare  on  the  win- 
dows of  the  dining-room. 

Mifs  Trifle  went  out  again,  and  (bon  dif* 
covered  another  lodging,  which  Mr.  ^Uk  went 
to  furvey,  and  found,  that,  whenever  the  wind 
fhould  blow  from  the  Eaft,  all  thefmoke  of  the 
city  would  be  driven  upon  it*  - 

A  magnificent  fett  of  rooms  was  the»  found  irt 
one  of  the  ftreets  hqt^v  WeJlminPer- Bridge,  which 
Mifs  Trifle  preferred  to  any  which  (he  had  yet 
feen  ;  but  Mr.  ^ickf  having  mufed  upon  it  for 
a  timCf  concluded  that  it.woul^  be  too  much 
cxpofea  .1  the  morning  to  the  fogs  that  rife  from 

the  River.  ' 

Thus  Mr;  ^ici  proceeded  to  give  us  every 
day  new  tcftimonies  of  his  tafte  and  circumfpec- 
tion  J  fometimes  the  ftreet  was  too  narrow  for  a 

H  6  double- 


ftii 


In}     1 


156  THE  IDLER.  N»  86. 

double  range  of  Coaches ;  fometimes  it  was  an 
©bfcure  place,  not  inhabited  by  Perfons  of 
Quality.  Some  places  were  dirty,  and  fome 
crowded  ;  in  fome  houfes  the  furniture  was  ill* 
fuited,  and  in  others  the  flairs  were  too  narrow. 
He  had  fuch  fertility  of  objections  that  Mifs 
ITrifte  was  at  laft  tired,  and  defilted  from  all  at* 
tempts  for  our  accomnibdation. 

In  the  meantime  I  have  Hill  continued  to  fee  my 
company  on  a  fecond  Hoor,  and  am  aiked  twenty 
times  a  day  when  I  am  to  leave  thofe  odious 
lodgings,  in  which  I  live  tumultuoufly  without 
pleafure,  and  expenfively  without  honour.  My 
hufband  thinks  fp  highly  of  Mr.  ^ick^  that  he 
cannot  be  perfuaded  to  remove  without  his  ap- 
probation ;  and  Mr.  ^ick  thinks  his  reputation 
laifed  by  the  multiplication  of  difficulties. 

In  this  diftrefs  to  whom  can  I  have  recourfe  ? 
I  find  my  temper  vitiated  by  daily  difappoint- 
ment,  by  the  fight  of  Pleafures  which  1  cannot 
partake,  and  the  pofleilioa  of  Riches  which  I 
cannot  enjoy.  Dear  Mr.  JdUr^  inform  my 
huiband  that  he  is  tri^ng  away,  in  fuperHuous 
vexation,  the  few  montlis  which  Culiiom  has 
appropriated  to  Delight ;  that  matcimonial  quar- 
xcU  are  not  eaii}y  reconciled  betweea  Dhofe  that 
have  no  children ;  that  wherever  we  fettle  he 
m.uA  always  find  fom&  inco&venience  -y  but  no- 
thing 


N»86.  THE  IDLER.  ^S7 

thing  is  fo  much  to  be  avoided  as  a  perpetual  ftatc 
of  Enquiry  and  Sufpence. 
1  am,  Sir, 

Your  humble  fervant, 

Peggy  Heartlesj. 


Numb.  87.    Saturday,  December  15,  1759. 

OF  what  we  know  not  we  can  only  judge 
by  what  we  know.     Every  novelty  ap- 
pears more  wonderful  as  it  is  more  remote  frotrv 
any  thing  with  which  experience  or  tellimony 
have  hitherto  acquainted  us  j  and  if  it  paffes  fur- 
ther beyond  the  notions  that  we  have  been  ac- 
cuftomed  to  form,  it  becomes  at  laft  incredible. 
We  feldora  confider  that  human  knowledge 
is  very  narrow,  that  national  manners  are  forme4 
by  chance,    that  uncommon  coajunaures  of 
caufes  produce  rare  effeas,  or  that  what  is  im.- 
poflible  at  one  time  or  place  may  yet  happen  ni 
another.    It  is  always  cafier  to  deny  than  10  eit. 
quire.     To  refufe  credit  confers,  for  a  monent 
an  appearance  of  fuperiority,  which  every  httl« 
mind  is  tempted  t6  alTume  when  it  may  be  gained 
fo  cheaply  as   by   withdrawing  attentioa  from 
evidence,  anddechning  the  fatigue  of  comparing 

proba- 


I 


Hi 


J58  THE  IDLER.  N**  87. 

probabilities.  The  moft:  pertinacious  and  vehe- 
ment demonftrator  may  be  wearied  in  time  by 
continual  negation  ;  and  Incredulity,  which  an 
oJdPoet,  in  his  Addrefs  to  Raleigh,  calls  the  IVit 
»f  Fools,  obtunds  the  argument  which  it  cannot 
anfwer,  as  wool-facks  deaden  arrows  though  they 
-cannot  repel  them. 

Many  Relations  of  travellers  have  been  flighted 
as  fabulous,  till  more  frequent  Voyages  have 
confirmed  their  veracity  ;  and  it  may  reafonably 
be  imagined,  that  many  ancient  Hiftorians  are 
unjuftly  fufpedled  of  falfhood,  becaufe  our  own 
times  afford  nothing  that  referables  what  they 
tell. 

Had  only  the  Writers  of  Antiquity  informed 
\3S  that  there  was  once  a  nation  in  which  the 
wife  lay  down  upon  the  burning  pile  only  to  mix 
her  allies  with  thofe  of  her  bulband,  we  fliould 
have  thought  it  a  tale  to  be  told  with  that  of 
Endymion's  Commerce  with  the  Moon.  Had 
only  a  fingle  Traveller  related  that  many  nations 
of  the  earth  were  black,  we  Jhould  have  thought 
the  accounts  of  Nfgroes  and  of  the  Phoenix  equally 
credible*  But  of  black,  men  the  numbers  are 
too  great,  who  are  now  repining  under  EngHjh 
cruelty,  and  the  cuftom  of  voluntary  cremation 
is  not  yet  loft  among  the  Ladies  of  India^       - 

Few  narratives  will,  either  to  men  or  women; 
appear  more  incredible  than  the  hiftories  of  the 
Amazons  i  of  female  nations  of  whofe  conftitu- 

tiom^ 


N'^a.);  THE   IDLER.  159 

tion  it  was  the  effential  and  fundaraefital  law 
to  exclude  men  from  all  participatioa  either  of 
public  affairs  or  domeftic  bufincfs ;  where 
female  armies  marched  under  female  captains, 
female  farmers  gathered  the  harveft,  female  part- 
ners dan<:ed  together,  aiid  female  wits  diverted 

one  another. 

Yet  feveral  ages  of  anttquity  have  tranfmitted 
accounts  of  the  Amazom  oi  Caucafus  ;  and.  of  the 
Amazons  of  Amerlcoy  who  have  given  their  name 
to  the  greateft  River  in  the  world.  Condamine 
lately  found  fuch  memorials  as  can  be  expefled 
among  erratick.  and  unlettered  nations,  where 
events  are  recorded  only  by  tradition,  and.  new 
fwarms  fettling  in  the  country,  from  time  to 
time,   confufe  and  efface  all  traces  of  former 

times. 

To  die  with  hufbands,,  or  to  live  without 
them,  are  the  two  extremes  which  the  Prudence 
and  Moderation  oi  European  Ladies  have,  in  all 
ages,  equally  declined;  they   have  never  been 
allured  to  death  by  the  kindnefs  or  civility  of  the 
politeft  nations,  nor  has  the  roughnefs  and.  bru- 
tality of  more  favage  countries  ever  provoked 
them  to  doom  their  male  affbciates  to  irrevoca- 
bl«"   banifliment.      The  Bohemian  matrons  arc 
faid  to  have  made  one  fhort  ftruggle  for  fupe- 
riority  ;  but,  inftead  of  banifhing  the  men,  they 
contented  themfelves  with  condemning  them  to 

fcrvile 


'.   Mil  1 


fl 


,-.  i. 


«  1 


i6o  THE  IDLER.  N<^  gy 

fervile  offices  ;  and  their  conftitution,  thus  left 
imperfe£t,  was  quickly  ovei  thrown. 

There  is,  I  think,  no  clafs  of  Engltjh  women 
from  whom  we  are  in  any  danger  of  Amazonian 
tifurpation.  The  old  Maids  feem  neareft  to  in- 
dependence, and  moft  likely  to  be  animated  by 
revenge  againft  mafculine  authority ;  they  often 
fpeak  of  men  with  acrimonious  vehemence,  but 
it  is  feldom  found  that  they  have  any  fettled 
hatred  againft  them,  and  it  is  yet  more  rarely 
obferved  that  they  have  any  kindnefs  for  each 
other.  They  will  not  eafily  combine  rn  any 
plot ;  and  if  they  Ihould  ever  agree  to  retire  and 
fortify  themfelves  in  caftles  or  in  mountains,  the 
fentinel  will  betray  the  paffes  in  fpite,  and  the 
garrifon  will  capitulate  upon  eafy  terms,  if  the 
befiegers  have  hand fo me  fword-knots,  and  are 
well  fupplied  with  fringe  and  lace. 

The  Gamefters,  if  they  were  united,  would 
make  a  formidable  body ;  and  fince  they  con- 
iider  men  only  as  beings  that  are  to  lofe  tlieir 
moneys  they  might  live  together  without  any 
wifh  for  the  Officioufnefs  of  Gallantry  or  the 
Delights  of  diverfified  Converfation.  But  as 
nothing  would  hold  them  together  but  the  hope 
of  plundering  one  another,  their  government 
would  fail  from  the  defeat  of  its  principles,  the 
men  would  need  only  to  negle£t  them,  and  they 
would  perilh  in  a  few  weeks  by  a  civil  war. 

I  do 


ri 


N^g;,  THE  IDLER.  161 

I  do  not  mean  to  cenfure  the  Ladies  of  Eng' 
land  as  defeftivc  in  knowledge  or  in  fpirit,  when 
I  fuppofe  them  unlikely  to  revive  the  military 
honours  of  their  fex.  The  chara^er  of  the  an- 
tient  ySmazons  was  rather  terrible  than  lovely ; 
the  hand  could  not  be  very  delicate  that  was  only 
employed  in  drawing  the  bow  and  brandifhing 
the  battle-axe  ;  their  power  was  maintained  by 
cruelty,  their  courage  was  deformed  by  ferocity, 
and  their  example  only  Ihews,  that  men  and 
women  live  beft  together. 


||.iil 


jM||jng^| 


^;^^^^i,J^(^icJ0l^^iJ^^^ir^.>^^^i^ 


ti-:l 


Numb.  88.    Saturday,  December  22,   i759« 

WHEN  the  Philofophers  of  the  laft  Age 
were  firft  congregated  into  the  Royal 
Society,  great  expectations  were  raifed  of  the 
fudden  progrefs  of  ufeful  Arts  ;  the  time  was 
fuppofed  to  be  near  when  Engines  Ihould  turn 
by  a  perpetual  motion,  and  Health  be  fecure  by 
the  univerfal  Medicine ;  when  Learning  fhouid 
be  facilitated  by  a  real  Character,  and  Commerce 
extended  by  (hips  which  could  reach  their  Ports 
in  defiance  of  the  Tempeft, 

But   Improvement  is   naturally  flow.     The 
Society  met  and  parted  witUout  any  vifiblc  dimi- 
nution 


,n 


i6a  TH£  IDLER.  N«8^: 

iiution  of  tlie  miferies  of  life.  The  Gout  and 
Stone  were  Hill  painful,  tke  Ground  that  was  not 
plowed  brought  no  Hapveft,  and  neither  Oranges 
nor  Grapes  would  grow  upon  the  Hawthorn.  At 
iart,  thofe  who  were  difappoiiucd  began  to  be 
angry  ;  thole  Jikewife  who-hated  innovation  were 
glad  to  gain  an  opportunity  of  ridiculing  men 
who  had  depreciated,  perhaps  with  too  much 
.arrogance,  the  Knowledge  of- Antiquity.  And 
it  appears  from  fomc  of  their  earlieft  apologies, 
that  the  P!  ilofophers  felt  with  great  fenfibility 
the  unwelcome  importunities  of  thofe  who  were 
daily  afking,  **  What  have  ye  done  f" 

The  truth  is,  that  little  had  been  done  com- 
pared with  what  Fame  had  been  fufFeredto  pro- 
mife  ;  and  the  qucftion  could  only  be  anfwered 
by  general  apologies  and  by  new  hopes,  which, 
when  they  were  fruflrated;  gave  a  nevy  occafion 
to  the  fame  vexatious  enquiry. 

This  fatal  queftion  has  difturbed  the  quiet 
of  many  other  minds.  He  that  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  too  ftri£lly  enquires  what  he  has 
done,  can  very  feldom  receive  from  his  own' 
heart  fuch  an  account  as  will  give  him  fatisfac- 
iion. 

We  do  not  indeed  fo  often  difappoint  others 
as  ourfelves.  We  not  only  think. more  high l-y 
than  others  of  our  own  abilities,  but  allow  our- 
felves to  form  hopes  which  we  never  commiirii- 
eate,  and  pleafe  oxv:  thoughts  with  employnicnts 

vvhiclv 


N*88.  THE    IDLER.  '  163 

which  none  ever  will  allot  us,  and  with  eleva- 
tions to  which  wc  are  never  expeaed  to  rife  5 
and  when  our  days  and  years  are  pafled  away  in 
common  bufinefs  or  common  amufements,  and 
we  find  at  laft  that  we  have  fufFered  ourpurpofeJ 
to  deep  till  the  time  of  aftion  is  paft,  we  are  re- 
proached only  by  our  own.  reflexions  ;  neither 
our  friends  nor  our  enemies  wonder  tluit  wc 
live  and  die  like  the.  reft  of  mankind;  that  we 
live  without  notice,  and  die  without  mem.orial : 
they  know  not  what  tafk  we  had  propofed,  and 
therefore  cannot  difcern  whether  it  is  finifhed. 

He  that  compares  what  he  has  done  with  what 
he  has  left  undone,  will  feel  the  cfFeft  which 
mu ft  always  follow  the  comparifon  of  imagina- 
tion with  reality  ;  he  will  look  with  contempt 
on  his  own  unimportance,  aiid  wonder  to  what 
purpofc  he  came  into  the  world  -,  he  will  repine 
that  he  fhall  leave  behind  him  no  evidence  of  his 
having  been,  that  he  has  added  nothing  to  tlic 
fyftem  of  life,  but  has  glided  from  Youth  to  Age 
among  the  crowd,  without  any  effort  for  dif- 

tinftion.  ,     r  ,1   , 

Man  is  feldpm  wilUng  to  let  fall  the  opmioa 

of  his  own  dignity,  or  to  believe  that  he  does 
little  only  becaufe  every  individual  is  a  very  httle 
being.  He  is  better  content  to  want  Diligence 
than  Power,  and  fooncr  confefles  the  De- 
pravity of  his  Will  than  the  In^becillity  of  his 

Nature.  ^ ' 

i:  torn 


I 

I      It 


1^4  TkE  IDLER.  i>jo  g^ 

From  this  millaken  notion  of  human  Great- 
nefs  it  proceeds,  that  many  who  pretend  to  have 
made  great  Advances  in   Wifdom  fo  loudly  de- 
clare Uiat  they  dcfpife  themfelves.     If  I  had  ever 
found^any  of  the  Self-contemners  much  irritated 
or  pained  by  the  confcioufncfs  of  their  mean- 
nefs,  1  fhould  have  given  them  confolation  by 
obferving,  that  a  little  more  than  nothing  is  as 
much  as   can  be  cxpeaed  from  a  being    who 
with  refpea  to  the  multitudes  about  him  is  him- 
felf  little  more  than  nothing.    Every  man  is  ob- 
liged  by  the  Supreme  Mafter  of  the  Univerfe  to 
improve  all  the  opportunities   of  Good  which 
are  afforded  him,  and  to  keep  in  continual  ac- 
tivity fuch  Abilities  as  are  beftowcd  upon  him, 
But  he  has  no  reafon  to  repine,  though  his 
Abilities  are  fmall,  and  his  Opportunities  few. 
He  that  has  improved  the  Virtue  or  advanced 
the  Happinefs  of  one  Fellow-creature,  he  that 
has  afcertaincd  a  fingle  Moral  Propofition,  or 
added  one  ufeful  Experiment  to  Natural  Know- 
ledge, may  be  contented  with  his  own  Perfor- 
mance, and,  with  refped  to  mortals  like  him- 
felf,  may  demand,  like  Auguftuu  to  be  difmiflcd 
at  his  departure  with  Applaufe 


NUMBt 


N^  »9. 


TIHE    IDLER. 


'6i. 


Numb.  89.    Saturday,  December  2^,  ^1S9* 

*A)fi^H  Kf  etTTS^H,       £piCT« 

HO  W  Evil  came  into  the  world ;  for  what 
reafon  it  is  that  Life  is  overfpread  with 
fuch  boundlefs  varieties  of  mifery ;  why  the  only 
thinking  being  of  this  globe  is  doomed  to  think 
merely  to  be  wretched,  and  to  pafs  his  time 
from  youth  to  age  in  fearing  or  in  fuifering 
calamities ;  is  a  queftion  which  Philofophers 
have  long  afked,  and  which  Philofophy  could 
never  anfwer. 

Religion  informs  us  that  Mifery  and  Sin  were 
produced  together.  The  depravation  of  human 
will  was  followed  by  a  diforder  of  the  harmony 
of  Nature  ;  and  by  that  Provideace  which  often 
places  antidotes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  poi- 
fons,  vice  was  checked  by  mifery,  left  it  Ihould 
fwell  to  univerfal  and  unlimited  dominion. 

A  ftate  of  Innocence  and  Happinefs  is  fo  re- 
mote from  all  that  we  have  ever  feen,  that 
though  we  can  eafily  conceive  it  poffible,  and 
may  therefore  hope  to  attain  it,  yet  our  fpecu- 
lations  upon  it  muft  be  general  and  confafed. 
We  can  difcover  that  where  there  is  univerfal 
Innocence,  there  will,  probably,  be  univerfal 
Happinefs  j  for  why  Ihould  Afflidlions  be  per- 
mitted 


''  ^Hl 

il^^H 

m  -rkAii 

ell 


Pi 


11 


^66  THE   IDLER.  N'' Sq. 

mlttcd  to  Infeft  beings  who  are  not  1 1>  danger 
of  corruption  from  Bleflings,  and  where  there 
js  no  ufe  of  Terrour  nor  caufe  of  Punifliment? 
But  in  a  world  hke  r,^}rs,  where  our  Senfes  af- 
fault  us,  and  oiir  HcbjIv  betray  us,  we  fhould 
pafs  on  from  cruiie  to  crime,  heedlefs  and  re- 
nK)rfelefs,  if  Mifery  did  not  {land  in  our  way, 
and  our  own  Pains  admonilli  us  of  our  folly. 

Almoft  all  the  Moral  G'  od  which  is  uftamon2: 
US,  is  the  apparent  ciT^^  of  Phyfical  Evil. 

Goodnefs  is  divided  by  Divines  into  Sober- 
ncfs,  Rightcoufuefs,  and  Goodlinefs.  Let  it  be 
examined  haw  eacli  of  thefc  Duties  would  be 
praiflifed  if  there  were  no  Phyfical  Evil  to  eii' 
force  it. 

Sobriety,  or  Temperance,  is  nothing  but  the 
forbearance  of  Pleafure  ;  and  if  Pleafurc  was 
not  followed  by  Pain,  who  would  forbear  it  ? 
We  fee  every  hour  thofe  in  whom  tlie  defire  of 
prefent  indulgence  overpowers  all  fenfe  of  paft 
and  all  forefight  of  future  mifery.  In  a  remif- 
fion  of  tlie  Gout  the  Drunkard  returns  to  his 
Wine,  and  the  Glutton  to  his  Feaft ;  and  if 
neither  Difeafe  nor  Poverty  w^ere  felt  or  dreaded, 
every  one  would  {ink  down  in  idle  fenfuality, 
without  any  care  of  others,  or  of  himfelf.  To 
cat  and  drink,  and  lie  down  to  fleep,  would  be 
tlie  whole  bufinefs  of  mankind. 

Righteoufnefs,  or  the  fyftem  of  Social  Duty, 
fiiay  be  fubdivided  into  Juftice  and  Charity.  Of 

Juftice 


N^Sq.  the  idler.  167 

Juftice  one  of  the  Heathen  Sages  has  fhcwn,  with 
gTcat  acutenefs,  that  it  was  imprefled  upon 
mankind  only  by  the  inconveniences  which  In- 
juflico  had  produced.  *'  In  the  firft  agns,"  fays 
he,  **  men  a6led  without  any  rule  but  the  im- 
*'  pulfe  of  Defirc,  they  praftifed  Injuftice  upon 
**  others,  and  fufFe  red  it  from  others  in  their  turn; 
^'  but  in  tin.,  it  was  difcovcrd,  that  the  pain  of 
*'  fuffering  wrong  was  greater  than  the  picafure 
*'  of  doing  it ;  and  mankind,  by  a  general  com- 
*'  pa(St,  fubmitted  to  lie  rcllraint  of  laws,  and 
"  rcfigncdthe  plrafurc  to  efcnpc  the  pain." 

Of  Charity  it  is  fuperfluous  to  obferve, 
tliat  it  could  have  no  place  if  there  were  no  want ; 
for  of  a  virtue  which  could  not  be  pr:i<5lifed,  the 
omiflion  could  not  be  culpable.  Evil  is  not 
only  the  occa(ion:^l  but  the  efficient  caufe  of  cha- 
rity,; we  are  incited  to  the  rehef  of  mifery  by 
the  confcioufnefs  that  we  have  the  fame  nature 
with  the  fuflerer,  that  we  are  in  danger  of  the 
fame  diilrelTes,  .and  may  fomctime  implore  the 
f^me  afiiftance. 

Godlinefs,  or  Piety,  k  elevation  of  the  mind 
towards  the  Supreme  Being,  and  extcnfion  of 
the  thoughts  of  another  life.  The  other  life  is 
future,  and  the  Supreme  Being  is  invi"fible. 
None  would  have  rec  urfe  to  an  invifible  power, 
ibut  that  all  other  fubjtjfts  had  eluded  their  hopes. 
None  would  fix  their  attention  upon  the  future, 
'i)ut  that  they  ?ire  difcontented  with  the  prefent. 

5  If 


i  ■ 

t 


I         SI  I 


'Sit   i>f 

ill 

m 


M: 


,68  THE    IDLER.  N*  89. 

If  the  fcnfcs  arc  fcattcd  with  perpetual  Pleafure, 
they  would  always  keep  the  mind  in  fubjeftion. 
Reafon  has  no  authority  over  us,  but  by  its 
power  to  warn  us  againft  Evil. 

In  Childhood,  while  our  minds  are  yet  unoc- 
cupied, Religion  is  imprcfled  upon  them,  and 
the  firft  years  of  almoft  all  who  have  been  well 
educated' are  pafled  in  a  regular  difcharge  of  the 
duties  of  Piety.  But  as  we  advance  forward  into 
the  crowds  of  life,  innumerable  delights  folicit 
our  inclinations,  and  innumerable  cares  diftraft 
our  attention.  The  time  of  youth  is  pafled  in 
noify  frolicks ;  Manhood  is  led  on  from  hope  to 
hope,  and  from  projca  to  projeft  j  the  diflo- 
lutenefs  of  pleafure,  the  inebriation  of  fuccefs, 
the  ardour  of  expeftation,  and  the  vehemence 
of  competition,  chain  down  the  mind  alike  to  the 
prefent  fcene  :  nor  is  it  remembered  how  foonthis 
mift  of  trifles  muft  be  fcattered,  and  the  bubbles 
that  float  upon  the  rivulet  of  life  be  loft  for  ever 
in  the  gulph  of  eternity.  To  this  confideration 
fcarce  any  man  is  awakened  but  by  fome  pref- 
fing  and  refiftlefs  evil ;  the  death  of  thofe  from 
whom  he  derived  his  pleafures,  or  to  whom  he 
deftined  his  pofleffions,  fome  difeafe  which 
fhews  him  the  vanity  of  all  external  acquifitions, 
or  the  gloom  of  age  which  intercepts  his  pro- 
fpefts  of  long  enjoyment,  forces  him  to  fix  his 
hopes  upon  another  ftatc ;  and  when  he  has 
contended  with  the  tempcfts  of  life  till    his 

ftrengU 


N^89.  THE   IDLER.  169 

ilrcngth  fails  him,  he  flics  at  lafl  to  the  Ihehcr 
of  Religion. 

That  mifcry-  does  not  make  all  virtuous,  ex- 
perience too  certainly  informs  us ;  but  it  is 
no  Icfs  certain,  that  of  what  Virtue  there  is,  Mi- 
fcry  produces  far  the  greater  part.  Phyilcal  Evil 
may  be  therefore  endured  with  patience,  fincc 
it  is  the  caufe  of  Moral  Good  ;  and  Patience  it« 
felf  is  one  Virtue  by  which  we  are  prepared  for 
that  (late  in  which  Evil  (hall  be  no  more. 

Numb.  90.     Saturday,  Jaw^ry  5,   1760. 

IT  is  a  complaint  which  has  been  made  from 
time  to  time,  and  which  fecms  to  have  lately 
become  more  frequent,  that  Engl'ijh  Oratory, 
however  forcible  in  argument,  or  elegant  in  ex- 
prcflion,  is  deficient  and  inefficacious,  becaufe 
uur  fpeakcrs  want  the  Grace  and  Energy  of  Ac« 
tion. 

Among  the  numerous  Projeflors  who  arc 
defirous  to  refine  our  manners,  and  improve 
our  Faculties,  fome  are  willing  to  fupply  the 
deficiency  of  our  fpeakers.  We  have  had  more 
than  one  exhortation  to  ftudy  the  negledVed 
Art  of  moving  the  paflions,  and  have  been  en- 
couraged to  believe  that  our  tongues,  however 
feeble  in  themfclves,  may,  by  the  help  of  our 
Vol.11.  I  liands 


I 


fl 


m 


r".ii-i 


M 


^HE    IDLER. 


N^ 


I 


170  1  n  Ji.    lui^nii.  AN'' 90. 

^hands  and  legs,  obtain  an  uncontroulable  domi- 
nion over  the  moil  ilubborn  audience,  animate 
the  infenfible,  engage  the  carclefs,  force  tears 
jVom  the  obdurate,  and  money  from  the  avari- 
cious. 

If  by  fleight  of  hand,  or  niniblenefs  of  foot, 
all  thefe  v,^onders  can  be  performed,  he  that  Ihall 
iiegledl  to  attain  the  free  ufe  of  his  limbs  may 
be  juflly  ccnfured  as  criminally  lazy.  But  I  am 
afraid  that  no  fpecimen  of  fach  effc6ts  will  eafily 
be  fhewn.  if  I  could  once  find  a  fpeaker  in 
Change-Alley  railing  the  price  of  ftocks  by  the 
power  of  perfuaiive  gefturcs,  I  fhould  very  zea- 

,  joufly  recommend  the  iludy  of  his  art;  but  hav- 
ing never  feen  any  adlion  by  which  language 
was  much  affifted,  1  have  been  hitherto  in- 
clined to  doubt  whether  my  countrymen  are  not 
blamed  too  hai\ily  for  their  calm  and  motionlefs 
Etterance. 

Foreigners  of  many  nations  accompany  their 
ipeech  with  n £^ ion  ;  but  why  ihould  their  ex- 
ample have  more  iniluence  upon  us  than  ours 
upon  them  ?  Cufloms  are  not  to  be  changed 
but  for  better.  Let  thofe,  who  defire  to  reform 
Tis,  fhew  the  benefits  of  the  change  propofed. 
When  the  Fienchman  waves  his  hands  and 
writhes  his  body  in  recounting  the  revolutions 
«:)f  a  game  at  cards ;.  or  the  Neapolitan,  who  tells 
the  hour  of  the  day,  {hews  upon  his  fingers  the 

,-  .number  which  lie  irxntions ;  I  do  not  perceive 

that 


Ili'p" 


N«90.  THE  IDLER.  171 

that  their  manual  exercife  is  of  much  ufc,  or 
that  they  leave  any  image  more  deeply  imprcfled 
by  their  buftle  and  vehemence  of  communi- 
cation. 

Upon  the-  Engl! /h  Stage  there  is  no  want  of 
Aftion  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  making  it  at  once 
various  and  proper,  and  its  perpetual  tendency 
to  become  ridiculous,  notwithflanding  all  the 
advantages  which  art  and  fhow,  and  cuftom  and 
prejudice,  can  give  it,  may  prove  how  little  it 
can  be  admitted  into  any  other  place,  where  it 
can  have  no  recommendation  but  from  Truth 
and  Nature. 

The  ufe  of  Eng'iJIj  Oratory  is  only  at  the 
Bar,  in  the  Parliament,  and  in  the  Church. 
Neither  the  Judges  of  our  Laws,  nor  the  Re- 
prefentatives  of  our  People,  would  be  much  af- 
fefted  by  laboured  gefticulation  ;  or  believe  any 
man  the  more  becaufe  he  rolled  his  eyes,  or 
puffed  his  cheeks,  or  fpread  abroad  his  arms,  or 
Hamped  the  ground,  or  thumped  his  breaft,  or 
turned  his  eyes  fometimes  to  the  cicling  and 
fometimcs  to  the  floor.  Upon  men  intcit  only 
Upon  truth,  the  arm  of  an  Orator  has  little 
power  J  a  credible  teftimony,  or  a  cogent  argu- 
ment, will  overcome  all  the  art  of  modulation, 
and  all  the  violence  of  contortion. 

It  is  well  known  that  in  the  City  which  may 
be  called  the  Parent  of  Oratory,  all  the  arts  of 
mechanical  pcrfuafion  were   banilhed  from  the 

I  2  court 


•-WA 


n 


'•i 


*# 
\\'^ 


im 


n-j%  THE  IDLER.  N-'c^a. 

.court  of  fupreme  judicature.  The  Judges  of  the 
Areopagui  confidered  a6^ion  and  vociferation  as  a 
foolifh  appeal  to  the  external  fenfes,  and  un- 
worthy to  be  pradlifed  before  thofe  who  had  no 
defire  of  idle  arnulement,  and  whofe  only  plea- 
fure  was  to  difcover  right. 

Whether  A6lion  may  not  be  yet  of  ufe  in 
churches,  where  the  Preacher  addrefles  a  mingled 
audience,  may  deferve  enquiry.  It  is  certain 
that  the  fenfes  are  more  powerful  as  the  reafoa 
is  weaker ;  and  that  he,  whole  ears  convey  little 
to  his  mind,  may  fometimes  liftcn  with  his  eyes 
till  truth  may  gradually  take  pofTeffion  of  liis 
heart*  If  there  be  any  ufe  of  g^fticula.ion,  it 
■niuft  be  applied  to  the  ignorant  and  rude,  who 
will  be  more  afFe<ftcd  by  vehemence,  than  de- 
jighted  by  propriety.  In  the  pulpit,  little  aftioFi 
can  be  proper  ;  for  aftion  can  illuftrate  nothing 
but  that  to  which  it  may  be  referred  by  nature  or 
by  cuftom.  He  that  imitates  by  his  hand  a 
motion  which  he  .defcribes,  explains  it  by  na- 
tural fimilitude  ;  he  that  lays  his  hand  on  his 
t>reaft,  when  he  expreffcs  pity,  enforces  his 
words  by  cuflomary  illuiion,  .  Bat  1  heology 
'Jhas  few  topicks  to  which  adlion  can  be  appropri- 
,ated  ;  that  aftion  which  is  vague  and  indetermi- 
nate, will  at  laft  fettle  into  habit,  and  habitual 
peculiarities  are  quickly  ridiculous. 

It  is  perhaps  the  character  of  the  Engl'ijh  to 
vdefpife  trifles  j  and  that  art  nvay  furely  be  ac- 
counted 


'N'()0, 


THE    IDLER. 


173: 


counted  a  trifle,  which  is  at  once  ufelefs  and' 
ollcntatious,  which  can  feldom  be  praftifcd  with 
propriety,  and  which,  as  the  mind  is  more  cul- 
tivated, is  Icls  powerful.  Yet,  as  all  innocent 
means  are  to  be  uCcd  for  the  propagation  of  truth,- 
1  would  not  deler  ihofc  who  are  employed  in 
preaching  to  common  congregations,  from  any 
practice  which  they  may  lind  perfuafive ;  for, 
compared  with  the  converfion  of  fmners,  pro- 
priety and  elegance  are  kfs  than  nothing. 


^i^^^H^r^m^^^fi^^^^i^^^^^^'^^^^^ 


Numb.  91.     Saturday,  Jcnru^ry  ii^  1760* 

IT  is  common  to  overlook  what  is  ncary  by 
keeping  the  eye  fixed  upon  fomething  re- 
mote. In  the  fame  mat.ncr  prefent  opportuni- 
ties are  ncgle£\ed.  and  attainable  good  is  flighted, 
by  minds  bufied  in  extcnfive  ranges,  and  intent 
upon  future  advantages,  life,  however  fhorty 
is  made  flill  fliorter  by  wafte  of  time  ;  and  its 
progrefs  towards  happinefs,  though  naturally 
flow,  ii  yet  retarded  by  unneceflary  labour. 

The  difficulty  of  obtaining  knowledge  is  uni- 
verfally  confelTcd.  To  fix  deeply  in  the  mind 
the  principles  of  fcience,  to  fettle  their  limita- 
tions, and  deduce  the  long  fuccelTion  of  their 
confequences  ;  to  comprehend  the  whole  com- 

1  3  pafs 


I 


^. 


111 


; S*  I 


174  THE    IDLER.  N'qi. 

pafs  of  complicated  fyftcms,  with  all  the  argu- 
ments, objeflions,  and  folutioiis,  and  to  repo- 
fite  in  the  intelleftual  treafury  the  numberlefs 
fafts,  experiments,  apophthegms,  and  portions, 
which  muft  ftand  fingle  in  the  memory,  and 
of  which  none  has  any  perceptible  connection 
with  the  reft  ;  is  a  taik  which,  though  under- 
taken with  ardour,  and  purlued  with  dihgence, 
muft.  at  laft  be  left  anfiniflied  by  the  frailty  of 
our  nature. 

To  make  the  way  to  learning  either  lefs  (hort, 
or  lefs  fmooth,  is  certainly  abfurd  ;  yet  this  is 
the  apparent  effeft  of  the  prejudice  which  feems 
to  prevail  among  us  in  favour  of  foreign  authors, 
and  of  the  contempt  of  our  native  literature, 
which  this  excurfive  curiofity  muft  necefiariiy 
produce.  Every  man  is  more  fpeedily  inftru£led 
by  his  own  language,  than  by  any  other  ;  before 
we  fearch  the  reft  of  the  world  for  teachers,  let 
us  try  whether  we  may  not  fpare  our  trouble  by 
finding  them  at  home. 

The  riches  of  the  Engltjh  language  are  much 
greater  than  they  are  commonly  fuppofed.  Many 
ufeful  and  valuable  books  lie  buried  in  (hops  and 
libraries,  unknown  and  unexamined,  unlefs 
fome  lucky  compiler  opens  them  by  chance,  and 
finds  an  eafy  fpoil  of  wit  and  learning.  I  am 
far  from  intending  to  infinuate,  that  other  lan- 
guages are  not  necelTary  to  him  who  afpires  to 
eminence,  and  whofe  whole  life  is  devoted  to  ftudy ; 

but 


N«9t^.  THE  IDLER*  iff 

but  to  him  who  reads  only  for  amufement,  or 
whofe  purpofe  is  not  to  deck  himfelf  with  the 
honours  of  hterature,  but  to  be  quahfi^d  for  do- 
meftick  ufefuhiefs,  and  fit  down  content  with 
fubordinate  reputation,    we  have   authors  fuf- 
ficient  to  fill  up  all  the  vs.cancies  of  his  time, 
and  gratify  moft  of  his  wiihes  for  information. 
Of  our  Poets  I  need  fay  little,  becaufe  they 
are  perhaps   the  only  authors   to  whom  their 
country  has   done  juftice.      We  confider   the 
whole  fucceflion  from  Spenfer  to  Pope,  as   fupe- 
rior  to  any   names  which  the  Continent  can 
boaft  i  and  therefore  the  poets  of  other  nations, 
however  familiarly  they  may  be  fometimes  men- 
tioned, are  very  little  read,  except  by  thofe  wha 
defign  to  borrow  their  beauties. 

There  is,  I  think,  not  one  of  the  liberal  arts 
which  may  not  be  competently  learned  in  the 
Engl'fi)  language.  He  that  fearches  after  mathe- 
matical knowledge,  may  bufy  himfelf  among 
his  own  countrymen,  and  will  find  one  or 
other  able  to  inflrua  him  in  every  part  of  thofe 
abftrufe  fciences.  He  that  is  delighted  with  ex- 
periments, and  wifhes  to  know  the  nature  of  bo- 
dies from  certain  and  vifible  efFeas,  is  happily 
placed  where  the  mechanical  philofophy  was  firft 
eftablillied  by  a  pubiick  inftitution,  and  from 
which  it  was  fpread  to  ?\\  other  countries. 

The  more  airy  and  elegant  ftudies  of  Philo- 
logy and  Criticifm  have  little  need  of  any  foreign 

I  4  i^elp. 


J  :.y 


'Ml 


M 


t  I 


176  THE   IDLER.  N"9i. 

help.  Though  our  language,  not  being  very 
analogicaJ,  gives  few  opportunities  for  gram- 
matical refearches,  yet  wc  have  not  wanted  au- 
thors who  haveconfidercdtheprinciples  of  fpeech  ; 
and  with  critical  writings  we  abound  fufficientJy 
to  enable  Pedantry  to  impofe  rules  which  can 
feldom  be  obferved,  and  Vanity  to  talk  of  books 
which  are  feldom  read. 

^  But  our  own  language  has,  from  the  Reforma- 
tion to  the  piefent  time,  been  chiefly  dignified  and 
adorned  by  the  works   of  our  Divines,    who, 
confidered  as  commentators,  controvertifts,  or 
preachers,  have   tindoubttdly  left  all  other  na- 
tions far  behind  them.    No  vulgar  language  can 
boaft  fuch  treafurt;s   of  theological  knowledge, 
or  fuch  multitudes  of  authors  at  once  learned, 
elegant,  and  pious.   Other  countries,  and  other 
communions,    have  authors    perhaps  equal  in 
abilities  and  dil'gence  to  ours  ;  bur,  if  we  unite 
number  with  excellence,  theie  is  certainly   no 
nation  which  muft  not  allow  us  to  be  fuperior. 
Of  JXlorality  little  is  neceifary  to  be  faid,  becaufe 
it  is  comprehended  in  practical  divinity,  and  h 
|)erhaps  better  taught  in  Englifh  fermons  than 
in  any  oth-er  books  ancient  or  modern.    Nor 
fhali  I  dwell  on  our  excellence  in  metaphyseal 
fpeculations,  becaufe  he  that  reads  the  works  of 
our  divines,  will  eafily  difcover  how  far  human 
fubtilty  lias  been  able  to  penetrate. 

Po- 


N«9i-  THE  tDLER.  177 

Political  knowledge  is  forced  upon  us  by  the 
form  of  our  conftitution  ;  and  all  the  myftcrics 
of  government  are  difcovered  in  the  attacks  or 
defence  of  every  minifler.  The  original  law  of 
fociety,  the  rights  of  fubje£ls,  and  the  preroga- 
tives of  kings,  have  been  confidered  with  the 
utmoft  nicety,  fometimes  profoundly  invefti- 
gated,  and  fometimes  familiarly  explained. 

Thus  copioufly  inftru£live  is  the  Englijh  Izxy- 
guage,  and  thus  needlefs  is  all  recourfe  to  foreign 
writers.  Let  us  not  therefore  make  our  neigh- 
bours proud  by  foliciting  help  which  we  do  not 
want,  nor  difcourage  our  owmi  ind lift ry  by  dif- 
ficulties which  we  need  not  fufFer. 


^^^^^^^^^.^'^^^^i^^^f^.^^^^ 


Numb.  92.     Saturday,  January  19,  1760. 


l'-\. 
?;'!: 


^1, 


WHATEVER  is  ufeful  or  honourable  will 
be  defired  by  many  who  never  can  ob- 
tain it ;  and  that  which  cannot  be  obtained  when ' 
it  is  defircd,  artifice  or  folly  will  be  Jiligcnt  to 
counterfeit.  Thcfe  to  whom  Fortune  has  de- 
nied gold  and  diamonds  decorate  themfelves  with 
ftones  and  metals,  which  have  fomething  of  the 
Ihow,  but  little  of  the  value ;  and  every  moral 
excellence  or  intelledtual  faculty  has.  fome  vice 
or  foiiy  which  imiates  its  appearance. 

I  5  Every 


,78  THE  IDLER.  N°  92. 

Every  man  wiflies  to  be  wife  ;  and  they  who 
cannot  be  wife  are  ahnoft  always  cunning. 
The  lefs  is  the  real  difcernment  of  thofe  whom 
bufinefs  or  converfation  brings  together,  the 
more  illuHons  are  pra£lifed  ;  nor  is  caution  ever 
fo  neceflary  as  with  aflbciates  or  opponents  of 
feeble  minds. 

Cunning  difFers  from  wifdom  as  twilight  from 
open  day.  He  that  walks  in  the  fun-£liine  goes 
boldly  forwards  by  the  neareft  way  ;  he  fees  that 
where  the  path  is  ftraight  and  even,  he  may  pro- 
ceed in  fecurity  ;  and  where  it  is  rough  and 
crooked,  he  eafily  complies  with  the  turns,  and 
avoids  the  obftrudlions.  But  the  traveller  in  the 
dulk  fears  more  as  he  fees  lefs  ;  he  knows  there 
may  be  danger,  and  therefore  fufpefts  that  he 
is  never  fafe,  tries  every  ftep  before  he  fixes  his 
foot,  and  Hirinks  at  every  noife,  left  violence 
Should  approach  him.  Wifdom  comprehends 
at  once  the  end  and  the  means,  eftimates  eafinefs 
or  difficulty,  and  is  cautious  or  confident  in  due 
proportion.  Cunning  difcovers  little  at  a  time, 
and  has  no  other  means  of  certainty  than  multi- 
plication of  ftratagems  and  fuperfluity  offufpi- 
cion.  The  man  of  Cunning  always  confiders 
that  he  can  never  be  too  fafe,  and  therefore  al- 
ways keeps  himfelf  enveloped  in  a  mift,  impe- 
netrable, as  he  hopes,  to  the  eye  of  rivalry  or 
curiofity. 

Upon 


N°92.  THE  IDLER.  179 

Upon  this  principle,  Tom  Double  has  formed 
a  habit  ot  eluding  the  moft  harmlefs  queftion. 
What  he  has  no  incUnation  to  aulwer,  he  pre- 
tends   iomctimes    not    to    hear,    and    endea- 
vours to  divert  the  enquirer's  attention  by  fome 
other  fubjca  i  but,  if  he  be  preffed  hard  by  re- 
peated interrogation,  he  always  evades  a  direft 
reply.     Alk  him   whom   he  hkes  bell  on  the 
ftage  >  he  is  ready  to  tell  that  there  are  feveral 
excellent  performers.     Enquire   when  he   was 
laft   at  the  coffee-houfe  ;    he  replies,    that  the 
weather  has  been  bad  lately.     Defire  him  to  tell 
the   age  of  any  of   his  acquaintance  i  he  im- 
mediately mentions  another   who  is  older  or 

younger.  ■ 

ff/ill  Puzzle  values  himfelf  upon  a  long  reacli. 
He  forefees.  every  thing  before  it  will  happen, 
though  he  never  relates  his  prognoftications  till 
the  event  is  pail.  Nothing  has  come  to  pafs  for 
thefe  twenty  years  of  which  Mr.  Puzzle  had  not 
given  broad  hints,  and  told  at  lead  that  it  was 
not  proper  to  tell.  Of  thofe  prediaions,  which 
every  conchifion  will  equally  verify,  he  always 
claims  the  credit,  and  wonders  that  his  friends 

,  did  not  underftand  them.  He  fuppofes  very 
truly  that  much  may  be  known  which  he  knows 
not,  and  therefore  pretends  to  know  much 
of  vvhich  he  and  all  mankind  are  equally  igno- 
rant  I  defired  his  opinion  ycllerday  of  the 
Gmnan  war,  and  was  told  that,  if  the  PruJJIa>.'s 

I  6  were 


I 

4* 


>':•:-•. 


THE  IDLER. 


N= 


180  ItllL,    lUJbt-K..  IS^  92. 

were  well  fupportcd,  fometliing  great  may  be 
«Kpe£ted  ;  but  that  they  have  very  powerful  ene- 
mies to  encounter,  that  the  Auftr'ian  general  has 
long  experience,  and  the  Rujftans  are  hardy  and 
Tcfolute^  but  that  no  human  power  is  invinci- 
We.  I  then  drew  the  converfation  to  our  own 
aifFairs,  and  invited  him  to  balance  the  probabi- 
lities of  war  and  peace  :  he  told  me,  that  war  re- 
<ju;res  courage,  and  negociation  judgment ;  and 
that  tlie  time  will  come  when  it  will  be  fecn 
whether  our  (kill  in  treaty  is  equal  to  our  bravery 
in  battle.  To  this  general  prattle  he  will  appeal 
hereafter;  and  will  demand  to  have  his  forefight 
applauded,  whoever  fliall  at  laft  be  conquered 
or  victorious. 

With  Ntd  Smuggle  s.\\  is  a  fecret.  He  believes 
himfelf  watched  by  obfervation  and  malig- 
.nity  on  every  lide,  and  rejoices  in  the  dexterity 
by  which  he  efcaped  fnares  that  never  were  laid. 
Ned  holds,  that  a  man  is  never  deceived  if  he 
never  truft,  and  therefore  will  not  tell  the  name 
of  his  taylor  or  his  hatter  ;  he  rides  out  every 
morning  for  the  air,  and  pleafes  himfclfwith 
thinking  that  nobody  knows  where  he  has  been  ; 
when  he  dines  with  a  friend,  he  never  goes  to 
his  houfe  the  neareft  way,  but  walks  up  a  bye- 
llreet  to  perplex  the  fccnf.  When  he  has  a 
coach  called,  he  never  tells  him  at  the  door  "he 
true  place  to  which  he  is  going,    butilops  him 

in 


N°  92. 


THE    IDLER. 


181 


in  the  way  that  he  may  give  direaions  where  no- 
body can  hear  him.  1  he  price  of  what  he  buys 
or  fells  is  always  concealed.  He  often  takes 
lodgings  in  the  country  by  a*wrong  name,  and 
thinks  that  the  world  is  wondering  where  he  can 
be  hid.  All  thefe  tranfaaions  he  regifters  in  a 
book,  which,  he  fays,  will  fome  time  or  other 
ama7X'  pofterity. 

It  is  remarked  b"  Bacon,  that  many  men  try 
to   procure  reputation  only  by  objeaions,  of 
which,  if  they  areonce  admitted,  the  nullity  never 
appears,  becaufe  the  defign   is  laid  afide.     This 
falfe  feint  of  JVif'Om,  fays  he,  h  the  rum  of  Bufu 
nefs.     The  whole  power  of  cunning  is  privative; 
to  fay  nothing,  and  to  do  nothing,  is  the  utmoft 
of  its  reach.     Yet  men,  thus  narrow  by  nature, 
and  mean  by  art,  are  fometimes  able  to  rife  by 
the  mifcarriages  of  bravery  and  the  opennefs  of 
.  integrity  ;  and  by  watching  failures  and  fnatch- 
ing   opportunities  obtain  advantages  which  be- 
long properly  to  higher  charaaers. 


I 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)872-4503 


iSa 


THE    IDLER. 


N^ 


93- 


Numb.  93.     Saturday,  January  26,  '.760. 


I  ' 


W  I 


I  ! 


Ii  i 


SAM  Softly  was  bred  a  Sugar-baker :  but 
fucceeding  to  a  confiderable  eftate  on  the 
death  of  his  elder  brother,  he  retired  early  from 
bufinefs,  married  a  fortune,   and   fettled  in   a 
country-houfe   near  Kenti/h-town.       Sam,  who 
formerly  was  a  fportfman,  and   in  his   appren- 
ticelhip  ufed  to  frequent  Burnet  races,  keeps  a 
high  chaife,  with  a  brace  of  feafoned  geldings. 
During  the  fummer  months,  the  principal  paf- 
iion  and  employment  of  Sam's  life  is  to  vifit,  in 
this  vehicle,  the  moft  eminent  feats  of  the  No* 
bility  and  Gentry  in  different  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, with  his  wife  and  fome  feleft  friends.   By 
thefe  periodical  excurfions  Sam  gratifies  many 
important  purpofes.     He  aflifts  the  feveral  preg- 
nancies of  his  wife ;  he  Ihews  his  chaife  to  the 
beft  advantage  ;  he  indulges  his  inlatiable  curio- 
fity  for  finery,  which,  fince  he  has  turned  gen- 
tleman, has  grown  upon  him  to  an  extraordinary 
degree  i  he  difcovers  tafte  and  fpirit ;  and,  what 
is  above  all,  he  finds  frequent  opportunities  of 
difplaying  to  the  party,  at  every  houfe  he  fees, 
his  knowledge  of  faraily-conne£iions.     At  firft, 
Sam  w,as  contented  with  driving  a  friend  between 
London  and  his  villa.     Here  he  prided  himfelf  in 
pointing  out  the  boxes  of  the  citizens  on  each 
fide  of  the  road,  with  an  accurate  detail  of  their 

refpeflive 


THE  IDLER. 


185 


N*93- 

refpeaive   failures  or  fuccefles   in  trade  ;    and 
harangued  on  the  feveral  equipages  that  were  ac- 
cidentally pairing.     Here,  too,   the  feats,  inter- 
fperfed  on  the  furrounding  hills,  afforded  ample 
matter  for  Sarrt's  curious  difcoveries.     For  one, 
he  told  his  companion,  a  rich  J^w  had  offered  ' 
money  ;  and  that  a  retired  widow  was  courted  at 
another*  by  an  eminent  Ury-falter.   At  the  fame 
time  he  difcufled  the  utility,  and  enumerated  the 
expcnces,  of  the  IJImgton  Turnpike.     But  Sam's 
ambition  is  at  prefent  raifed  to  nobler  under- 
takings. 

When  the  happy  hour  of  the  annual  expedi- 
tion arrives,  the  feat  of  the  chaife  is  furnifhed 
with  Ogilhfs  Book  of  Roads,  and  a  choice  quan- 
tity of  cold  tongues.     The  moft  alarming  dif- 
after  which  can  happen  to  our  Hero,  who  thinks 
he  throws  a  IVhip  admirably  well,  is  to  be  over- 
taken in  a  road  which  affords  no  garter  for 
wheels.     Indeed  few  men  poiTefs  more  fkill  or 
difcernment  for  concerting  and  conduaing  a 
Earty  of  Pleafure.     When  a  Seat  is   to  be  fur- 
veyed,  he  has  a  peculiar  talent  at  fele^ing  fomc 
Ihady  bench  in  the  Park,  where   the  company 
may  moft  commodioufly  refrefli  themfelves  with 
cold  tongue,  chicken,  and  French  rolls;  and  is 
very  fagacious  in  difcovering  what  cool  temple 
in  the  garden  will  be  beft  adapted  for  drinking 
tea,  brought  for  this  purpofe,  in  the  afternoon, 
and  from  which  the  chaife  may  be  xefumed  with 

the 


i84^  THE    IDLER.  N^g,. 

the  greateft  convenience.     In  viewing  the  houfe 
itfelf,  he  is  principally  attraaed  by  the   chairs 
and  bedsi  concerning  the  coft  of  which  his  mi- 
nute enquiries  generally  gain  the  clearcft  infor- 
mation.     An  Agate  Table  eafily  diverts  his  eyes 
^om  the  molV capital ftrokes  of  Rubens;  and  a 
7*^;%  Carpet  has  more  charms  than  a  litian. 
5ttw,  however,  dwells  with  fome  attention  on 
the    Family    Portraits,    particularly    the   moft 
modern  ones  ;  and  as  this  is  a  topick  on  which 
thehoufe-keeper  ufually  harangues  in  a  more  co- 
pious manner,  he  takes  this  opportunity  of  im- 
proving his  knowledge  of  intermarriages.     Yet, 
notwithflanding  this  appearance  of  fatisfadion, 
Sam  has  fome  objeftion  to  all'  he  fees.     One 
houfe  has  too  much  gilding;  at  another,  the 
chimney-pieces  are  all  monuments  ;  at  a  third, 
L^  conjeaures  that  the  beautiful  canal  muft  cer- 
taialy  be  dried  up  in  a  hot  fummer.    He  defpifes 
the  flatues  at  Wiltcn,  becaufe  he  thinks  he  can 
fee  much  better  carving  at  Weftmmjter  Abbey. 
But  there  is  one  general  objeaion  which  he  is 
fure  to  make  at  almoft  every  houfe,  particularly 
at  thofe  which  are  moft  diftinguifhed.     He  al- 
lows that  all  the  apartments  are  extremely  fine, 
but  adds,  with  a  fneer,  that  they  are  too  fine  to 
be  inhabited. 

Mifapplied  Genius  moft  commonly  proves 
ridiculous.  Had  Saw,  as  Nature  intended,  con- 
tentedly  continued  in  the  calmer  and  lefs  con- 

fpicuous 


THE   IDLER. 


1S5 


N'93- 

fpicuous  purfuits  of  Sugar-baking,  he  might 
have  been  a  refpeaable  and  ufeful  charaaer. 
At  prefent  he  diffipates  his  hfe  in  a  fpecious  idle- 
nefs,  which  neither  improves  himfelf  nor  his 
friends.  Thofe  talents  wliich  might  have  bene- 
fited fociety,  he  expofes  to  contempt  by  falfe 
pretenfions.  He  affeds  pleafuies  which  he  can- 
not  enjoy,  and  is  acquainted  only  with  thofe 
fubjeas  on  which  he  has  no  right  to  talk,  and- 
which  it  is  no  merit  to  underftarid. 


if 

It!    ^^ 

i       J' 


\     I'. 


Numb.  94.    Saturday,   Fehrmry  2^  i76o» 

IT  is  common  to  find  young  men  ardent  and 
diligent  in  the  purfuit  of  knowledge ;  but 
the  progrefs  of  life  very  often  produces  laxity 
and  indifference  ;  and  not  only  thofe  who  are  at 
liberty  to  chufe  thehv  bufinefs  and  araufement^ 
but  thofe  likewife  whofe  profeffions  engage  them 
in  literary  enquiries^  pafs  the  latter  part  of  tlieir 
time  without  improvement,  and  fpend  the  day 
rather  in  any  other  entertainment  than  that 
which  they  might  find  among  their  books. 

This  abatement  of  the  vigour  of  curiofity  i» 
fometimes  imputed  to  the  infufficiency  of  Learn- 
ing. Men  arc  fuppofed  to  remit  their  labours,, 
becaufe  they  find  their  labours   to   have  been 

vaiivi 


lii 


r86 


THE  IDLER. 


W 


94. 


vain ;  and  to  fcarch  no  longer  after  Truth  and 
Wifdom,  becaufe  they  at  laft  defpair  of  finding 

them. 

But  thi«  reafon  is  for  the  moft  part  very 
falfcly  afligned.  Of  Learning,  as  of  Virtue,  it 
may  be  affirmed,  that  it  is  at  once  honoured  and 
ncglea:ed.  Whoever  forfakes  it  will  for  ever 
look  after  it  with  longing,  lament  the  lols  which 
he  does  not  endeavour  to  repair,  and  deiire  the 
good  which  he  wants  refolution  to  ferze  and 
keep.  The  Idler  never  applauds  his  own  Idle- 
nefs  ;  nor  does  any  maiv  repent  of  the  diligence 
of  his  youth. 

So  many  hindrances  may  obftru£l  the  acqui- 
fition  of  Knowledge,  that  there  is  little  reafon  for 
wondering  that  it  is  in  a  few  hands.     To  the 
greater  part  of  mankind  the   duties  of  life  are 
inconfiftent  with  much  iludy,  and   the  hours 
which  they  would  fpend .  upon  letters  muft  be 
ilolen  from  their  occupations  and  their  families. 
Many  fufFer  themfelves  to  be   lured  by   more 
fprightly  and  luxurious  pleafures  from  the  fhades 
of  Contemplation,  where  they  find  feldom  more 
than  a  calm  delight,  fuch  as,  though  greater  than 
all  others,  its  certainty  and  its  duration  being 
reckoned  with  its  power  of  gratification,   is  yet 
eafily  quitted  for  fome  extemporary  joy,  which 
the  prefent  moment  offers,  and  another  perhaps 

will  put  out  of  reach. 

It 


N 


THE   IDLER. 


94.  I  ti  iL    I  u  L.  r.  ts^*  187 

It  is  the  great  excellence  of  Learning,  that  it 
borrows  very  little  from  time  or  place  j  it  is  not 
confined  to  feafon  or  to  climate,  to  cities  or  to 
the  country,  but  may  be  cultivated  and  enjoyed 
where  no  other  pleafure  can  be  obtained.     But 
this  quality,  which  conftitutcs  iTiUch  of  its  value, 
is  one  occafion  of  negleft  ;  what  may  be  done  at 
all  times  with  equal  propriety,  is  deferred  from 
day  to  day,  till  the  mind  is  gradually  reconciled 
to  the  omiflion,  and  the  attention  is  turned  to 
other  objeas.     Thus  habitual  idlenefs  gains  too 
much   power  to   be  conquered  ;   and  the  foul 
Ihrinks  from  the  idea  of  intelleftual  labour  and 
intenfenefs  of  meditation. 

That  ihofe  who  profefs  to  advance  Learning 
fometimes  cbftru£t  it,  cannot  be  denied;    the 
continual  multiplication  of  books  not  only  dif- 
tra£ts  choice,   but"  difappoints   enquiry.      To 
him  that  has  moderately  ftored  his  mind  with 
images,    few  writers    afford   any  novelty ;    or 
what  little   they  liave  to  add   to  the  common 
ftock  of  Learning   is  fo  buried  in  the  mafs  of 
general  notions,  that,  like  filver  mingled  with 
the  ore  of  lead,  it  is  too  little  to  pay  for  the  la- 
bour of  feparation ;  and   he  that  has  often  been 
deceived  by  the  promife  of  a  title,  at  lad  grows 
weary  of  examining,  and  is  tempted  to  confider 
all  as  equally  fallacious. 

There  are  indeed  fome  repetitions  always  law- 
ful, becaufethey  never  deceive.     He  that  writes 

the 


r: 


r8^ 


THE    IDLER. 


N' 


94' 


tlie  Hiftory  of  paft  times,  undertakes  only  to  de- 
corate known  fails  by  ncv  beauties  of  metbod  or 
of  flyle,  or  at  molV  to  illuftrate  them  by  his  own 
reflections.  The  Author  of  a  lyllem,  whether 
moral  or  phyfical,  is  obliged  to  nothing  beyond 
care  of  fele6tion  and  regularity  of  difpofition.. 
But 'there  are  others  who  claim  the  name  of  Au- 
thors merely  to  difgrace  it,  and  fill  the  world 
with  volumes  only  to  bury  letters  in  their  own 
rubbilh».  The  Traveller  who  tells  in  a  poni- 
ous  Foliov  that  he  faw  the  Panthron  at  Romf^  and 
the  Miiirxan  Vtnus  at  Fbrtnee  ;  the  Natural  Hif» 
torian»  who,  defcribing  the  productions  of  a^ 
narrow  Ifland,  recounts  all  that  it  has  in  com- 
mon with  every  other  part  of  the  world ;  the 
Collector  of  Antiquities,  that  accounts  every 
thing  a  curioiity  which  the  Ruins  of  Her^ 
cularuum  happen  to  emit,  though  an  inftru- 
nient  already  Ihewn  in  a  thoufand  repoiito- 
ries,  or  a  cup  common  to  the  ancients,  the 
moderns,  and  all  mankind  ;  may  be  juftly  cen- 
fured  as  the  Perfecutors  of  wStudents,  and  the 
Thieves  of  that  Time  which  never  can  be  r&- 
ftored.. 


NlfMB< 


V'-^S- 


THE   IDLER. 


•8, 


NuMB.95.     Saturday,  February  (^  1760- 


Mr.  Idler, 

IT  is,  I  think,  univcrfally  agreed,  that  feldom 
any  good  is  gotten  by  complaint;  yet  we  find 
that  few  forbear  to  complain,  but  thofe  who  are 
afraid  of  being  reproached  as  the  Authors  of  their 
own  miferies.  I  hope,  therefore,  for  the  com- 
mon permiffion,  to  Jay  my  cafe  before  you  and 
your  readers,  by  which  1  fhall  dilburthen  my 
heart,  though  I  cannot  hope  to  receive  either  aC- 
-iiftance  or  confolation. 

I  am  a  trader,  and  owe  my  fortune  to  fruga- 
lity and  induftry.  I  began  with  little;  but  by 
the  eafy  and  obvious  method  of  fpending  lefs  than 
1  gain,  1  have  every  year  added  fomething  to 
my  llock,  and  expert  to  have  a  feat  in  the  com- 
mon council  at  the  next  election. 

My  wife,  wlao  was  as  prudent  as  myfelf, 
died  fix  years  ago,  and  left  me  one  fon  and  one 
•daughter,  for  whofe  fake  1  refolved  never  to 
marry  again,  and  rejected  the  overture?  of  Mrs. 
Squerzf^  the  broker's  widow,  who  had  ten  thou-* 
fand  pounds  at  her  own  difpofal. 

I  bred  my  fon  at  a  fchool  near  IJl'ngton ;  and 
i!vhca  he  had  learned  arithmetick,  and  wrote  a 

good 


'  jM  li 


14)0  THL    IDLER.  N"  95. 

good  hand,  I  took  him  into  the  fhop,  dcfign- 
ing,  in  about  ten  years,  to  retirs.*  to  Stratford  or 
Huckmy,  and  leave  him  cltablifhcd  in  the  bufincfs. 

For  four  years  he  was  diligent  and  fcdatc,  en- 
tered the  fhop  before  it  was  opened,  and  when 
it  was  Ihut  always  examined  the  pins  of  the 
window.  In  any  intermiflion  ofbufincTs  it  was 
his  conftant  praflicc  to  perufe  the  Ledger.  1  h;id 
ulways  great  hopes  of  him,  when  1  obfcrved 
how  forrowfully  he  would  Ihake  his  head  over 
a  bad  debt ;  and  how  eagerly  he  would  liftcn 
to  me,  when  1  told  him  that  he  might,  at  one 
time  or  other,  become  an  Alderman. 

We  lived  together  with  mutual  confidence, 
til!  unluckily  a  vifit  was  paid  him  by  two  of  his 
fchool-fcllows,  who  were  placed,  I  fuppofe,  in 
the  army,  becaufe  they  were  fit  for  nothing 
better:  they  came  glittering  in  the  military 
drefs,  accofted  their  old  acquaintance,  and  in- 
vited him  to  a  tavern,  where,  as  1  have  been 
iince  informed,  they  ridiculed  the  meannefs  of 
commerce,  and  wondered  how  a  youth  of  fpirit 
could  fpend  the  prime  of  life  behind  a  counter. 

I  did  not  fufpe(5l  any  mifchief.  I  knew  my 
fon  was  never  without  money  in  his  pocket,  and 
was  better  able  to  pay  his  reckoning  than  his 
companions,  and  expe^ed  to  fee  him  return 
triumphing  in  his  own  advantages,  and  con- 
gratulating himfelf  that  he  was  not  one  of  thofe 

who 


1'* 


Nr9S.  THE    IDLER.  i^ 

who  cxpofe  their  heads  to  a  mufquct-bullct  for 
three  (hillings  a  day. 

He  returned  fullcn  and  thoughtful ;  I  fup- 
pofed  him  forry  for  the  hard  fortune  of  his 
friends,  and  tried  to  comfort  him  by  faying 
that  the  war  would  foon  be  at  an  end  ;  and  that, 
if  they  had  any  honcft  occupation,  half-pay 
would  be  a  pretty  help.  He  looked  at  me  with 
indignation  ;  and  fnatching  up  his  candle,  told 
me,  as  he  went  up  the  ftairs,  that  he  hoped  to  ftt 
a  battle  yet. 

Why  he  fhould'  hope  to  fee  a  battle  I  could 
not  conceive,  but  let  him  go  quietly  to  fleep 
away  his  folly.  Next  day  he  made  two  mif- 
takes  in  the  firft  bill,  difobliged  a  cuflomer  by 
furly  anfwers,  and  dated  ail  his  entries  in  the 
Journal  in  a  wrong  month.  At  night  he  met 
his  military  companions  again,  came  home  late, 
and  quarrelled  with  the  maid. 

From  this  fatal  interview  he  has  gradually  loft 
all  his  laudable  paflions  and  defires.  He  foon 
grew  ufelefs  in  the  fhop,  where,  indeed,  I  did  not 
willingly  truft  him  any  longer  ;  for  he  often 
miftook  the  price  of  goods  to  his  own  lofs,  and 
once  gave  a  promiflbry  note  inftead  of  a  receipt, 

I  did  not  know  to  what  degree  he  was  cor- 
rupted, till  an  honeft  taylor  gave  me  notice  that 
he  had  befpoke  a  laced  fuit,  which  was  to  be  left 
for  him  at  a  houfe  kept  by  theiiftcrof  one  of  my 

journeymen. 


d.l 


A 

m 


,gj  THE  IDLER.  N"  qj. 

•.ourncvmen.     I  went  to  this  clandcftinc  lodging, 

of  a  fine  Gentleman,  which  he  1"';>>"'\"P°" 
credit?  or  purcl.afcd  with  money  fubduftcd  Iroin 

"''i^deteaion  has  made  him  defperate.  He 
now  openly  declares  his  refolution  to  be  a  gen- 
tleman ;  fays,  that  his  foul  is  too  great  for  a 
couliug-houfe  ;  ridicules  the  converfafon  of 
cUy  averns  •,  talks  of  new  plays,  and  boxes. 
LI  ladies ;  gives  Uuchefles  for  h.s  toafts ;  car- 
t  fiver  J  readinefs.  in  his  waiftcoat-pocket , 
Z  omes  home  at  night  in  a  cha.r,  w.th  fuch 
thunders  at  the  door,  as  have  move  than  once 
brou  'It  the  watchmen  from  their  ftands. 

Li.  .e  expences  will  not  hurt  us  ;  and  I  codd 
forgive  a  few  juvenile  frolicks,  .f  he  would  be 
cireful  of  the  main  ;  but  his  favourite  top.ck  ,s 
contempt  of  money,  which,  he  fays,  .s  of  no 
Xbut  to  be  fpent.  Riches,  without  honour, 
he  holds  empty  things  •,  and  once  told  me  to  my 
face,  that  wealthy  plodders  were  only  purveyors 

for  men  of  fpirit.  ru- 

He  is  always  impatient  in  the  company  of  h.s 
old  friends,  and  feldom  fpeaks  till  he  is  warmed 
with  wine,  he  then  entertams  us  with  accounts 
that  we  do  not  defiretohear,  of  intrigues  among 
lords  and  ladies,  and  quarrels  b^^"""*""  "' 
the  guards ;  ftews  a  miniature  on  his  fuuiF-box, 


N'95-  THE  IDLER.  193 

and  wonders  that  any  man  can  loolqupon  ihc 
new  dancer  without  rapture. 

All  this  is  very  provoking,  and  yet  all  this 
might  be  borne,  if  the  boy  could  fiipport  his  pre- 
tenfions.  But  whatever  he  may  think,  he  is 
yet  far  from  the  accompli fhments  which  he  has 
endeavoured  to  purchafc  at  fo  dear  a  rate.  I 
have  watched  him  in  public  places.  He  fncaks 
in  like  a  man  that  knows  he  is  where  he  fhould 
not  be  ;  he  is  proud  to  catch  the  flighted  faluta- 
tion,  and  often  claims  it  when  it  is  not  intended. 
Other  men  receive  dignity  from  drefs,  but  my 
booby  looks  always  uiore  meanly  for  his  finery. 
Dear  Mr.  Idler,  tell  him  what  muft  at  laft  be- 
come  of  a  fop,  whom  pride  will  not  fufFer  to  be  a 
trader,  and  whom  long  habits  in  a  ihop  forbid 
to  be  a  gentleman. 

I  ara,  Sir,  &c. 

Tim.  Wainscot. 


i  i\ 


Nil 


1  ' 

'L 

.-!,, 

\ 

V-' 

a 

'i| 

■ 

1  ^  9 

^  \'    m 

1 

1 

Vol.  II. 


K 


Numb. 


^4 


THE  IDLER. 


N'96. 


Numb.  96.    Saturday,  February  id,  1760. 

TJACHO,  a  King  oi  Lapland,  was  in  his  youth 
-"  the  moft  renowned  of  the  northern  war- 
riors. His  martial  atchievements  remain  en- 
graved on  a  pillar  of  flint  in  the  Rocks  of  Htinga, 
and  are  to  this  day  folemnly  carolled  to  the 
Harp  by  the  Laplanden,  at  the-fires  with  which 
they  celebrate  their  nightly  feftivities.  Such 
was  his  intrepid  fpirit,  that  he  ventured  to  pafs 
the  Lake  Vtther  to  the  Ifle  of  Wizards,  where  he 
defcended  alone  into  the  dreary  vault  in  which 
a  Magician  had  been  kept  bound  for  fix  ages, 
and  read  the  Gothick  charaaers  infcribed  on  his 
brazen  mace.  His  eye  was  fo  piercing,  that,  as 
antient  chronicles  report,  he  could  blunt  the 
weapons  of  his  enemies  only  by  looking  at  them. 
At  twelve  years  of  age  he  carried  an  iron  veflel 
of  a  prodigious  weight,  for  the  length  of  five 
furlongs,  in  the  prefence  of  all  the  chiefs  of 
his  father's  caftle. 

Nor  was  he  lefs  celebrated  for  his  prudence 
and  wifdom.  Two  of  his  proverbs  are  yet  re- 
membered  and  repeated  among  the  Laplanders. 
To  exprefs  the  vigilance  of  the  Supreme  Bemg, 
he  was  wont  to  fay,  Odin's  Belt  is  always  buckled.^ 
To  (hew  that  the  mofv  profperous  condition  or 
life  is  often  hazardous,  his  leffon  was,  When  you 

flide 


N''^.  THE    IDLER.  195 

flide  on  the  fmoothefl  ice^  beware  of  pits  beneath. 
He  confoled  his  countrymen,  when  they  were 
once  preparing  to  leave  the  frozen  defarts  of 
Lapland^  and  refolved  to  feek  fome  warmer  cH- 
mate,  by  telling  them,  that  the  eaftern  nations, 
notwithftanding  their  boafted  fertility,  paffed 
every  night  amidft  the  horrors  of  anxious  ap- 
prehenfion,  and  were  iiiexpreflibly  affrighted, 
and  almoft  ftunned,  every  morning,  with  the 
noife  of  the  fun  while  he  was  rifing. 

His  temperance  and  feverity  of  manners  were 
his  chief  praife.  In  his  early  years  he  never 
tailed  wine ;  nor  would  he  drink  out  of  a  painted 
cup.  He  conftantly  flept  in  his  armour,  with 
his  fpear  in  his  hand ;  nor  would  he  ufe  a 
battle-axe  whofe  handle  was  inlaid  with  brafs. 
He  did  not,  however,  perfevere  in  this  con* 
tempt  of  luxury  ;  nor  did  he  clofe  his  days  with 
honour. 

One  evening,  after  hunting  the  Guks^  or 
wild-dog,  being  bewildered  in  a  folitary  foreft, 
and  having  pafled  the  fatigues  of  the  day  with- 
out any  interval  of  refrelhment,  he  difcovered  a 
large  ftorc  of  honey  in  the  hollow  of  a  pine. 
This  was  a  dainty  which  he  had  never  tailed 
before,  and  being  at  once  faint  and  hungry,  he 
fed  greedily  upon  it.  From  this  unufual  and 
delicious  repaft  he  received  fo  much  fatlsfac- 
tion,  that,  at  his  return  home,  he  commanded 
honey  to  be  ferved  up  at  his  table  every  day. 


s    ' 


I 

'I 

* 


fv.    2 


His 


196  THE   IDLER.  N^  9^. 

His  palate,  by  degrees,  became  refined  and  vi- 
tiated ;   he  began  to  lofe  his  native  relifb  for 
iimple  fare,  and  contraaed  a  habit  of  indulging 
himfclf  in  delicacies  ;  he  ordered  the  deHghtful 
gardens  of  his  caflle  to  be  thrown  open,  in  which 
the   moft  lufcious  fruits  had  been  fufFered  to 
ripen   and  decay,    unobferved  and  untouched, 
for  many  revolving  autumns,  and  gratified  his 
appetite  with  luxurious  deflerts.     At  length  he 
found   it  expedient  to  introduce   wine,    as   an 
agreeable  improvement,    or  a   neceffary  ingre- 
dient,   to  his  new  way  of  living ;  and  having 
once  tafled  it,   he  was  tempted,   by  little  and 
little,  to  give  a  loofe  to  the  exceffes  of  intoxi- 
cation.    His   general    fimplicity  of    life    was 
changed  ;  he  perfumed  his  apartments  by  burn- 
ing the  wood   of  the  moft  aromatick  fir,  and 
commanded  his  helmet  to  be  ornamented  with 
beautiful  rows  of  the  teeth  of  the  rein-deer.  In- 
dolence and  effeminacy  ftole  upon  him  by  pleafing 
and  imperceptible  gradations,  relaxed  the  finews 
of  his  refolution,  and  extinguifhed  his  thirft  of 

military  glory. 

While  Hacho  was  thus  immeried  in  picalure 
aid  in  repofe,  it  was  reported  to  him,  one 
raorning,  that  the  preceding  night,  a  difaftrous 
omen  had  been  difcovered,  and  that  bats  and 
hideous  birds  had  drunk  up  the  oil  which  nou- 
riflied  the  perpetual  lamp  in  the  temple  of  Odin. 
About  the  fame  time,  a  meffenger  arrived  to  tell 

.  iiim. 


N°96.  TI4E   idler.  1^7 

him,  that  the  king  of  Norway  had  invaded  his 
kingdom  with  a  formidable  army.     Hacho^  ter- 
rified as  he  was  with  the  omen  of  the  night,  arid 
enervated  with  indulgence,  rouzcd  himfelf  from 
his  voluptuous  lethargy,  and,    recolle<5ting  feme 
faint  and  few  fparks  of  veteran  valour,   marched 
forward  to  meet  him.    Both  armies  joined  battle 
in  the  foreft  where   Hacho   liad  been  loft   after 
hunting  ;  and  it  fo  happened,  that  the  king  of 
Norway  challenged  ^him  to  lingle  combat,  near 
the  place  where  he  had  tafted  the  honey.     The 
Lapland  Chief,  languid  and  long  difufed  to  arms, 
was  foon  overpowered  ;  he  fell  to   the  ground  ; 
and,  before  his  infulting  adverlary  ftruck  his  head 
from  his  body,  uttered  this  exclamation,  which 
the  Laplanders  ftill  ufe  as  an  early  lelTon  to  their 
children  :  *'  The  vicious  man  fhould  date  his 
**  deftru£tioii  from  the  fiifl  temptation.     How 
**  juftly  do  I  fall  a  facrifice  to  floth  and  luxury, 
**  in  the  place  where  I  lirft  yielded  to  thofe  al- 
**  lurements  which  feduced  me  to  deviate   from 
*'  temperance  and  innocence  !  Thclioney  which 
«*  I  tafted  in  this  foreft,  and  not  the  hand  of 
**  the  king  oi  Norway,  conquers  Hacho,'^ 


»';i 


r 


I  a 


K3 


Numb. 


198 


THE   IDLER. 


N-97, 


Numb.  97.     Saturday,  February  23,  1760. 

IT  may,  I  think,  be  juftly  obfcrved,  that  few 
books  difappoint  their  readers  more  than 
the  Narrations  of  Travellers.  One  part  of  man- 
kind is  naturally  curious  to  learn  the  fenti- 
ments,  manners,  and  condition  of  the  reft  ;  and 
every  mind  that  has-leifure  or  power  to  extend 
its  views,  muft  be  defirous  of  knowing  in  what 
proportion  Providence  has  diftributed  the  bleffings 
of  Nature,  or  the  advantages  of  Art,  among  the 
feveral  nations  of  the  earth. 

This  general  defire  eafily  procures  readers  to 
every  book  from  which  it  can  cxpeft  gratifi- 
cation. The  adventurer  upon  unknown  coafts, 
and  the  defcriber  of  diftant  regions,  is  always 
welcomed  as  a  man  who  has  laboured  for  the 
pleafure  of  others,  and  who  is  able  to  enlarge 
our  knowledge,  and  reftify  our  opinions  ;  but 
when  the  volume  is  opened,  nothing  is  found 
butfuch  general  accounts  as  leave  no  diftin£t 
idea  behind  them,  or  fuch  minute  enumera- 
tions as  few  can  read  with  either  profit  or  de- 
light. 

Every  writer  of  Travels  (hould  confider,  that, 
like  all  other  Authors,  he  undertakes  either  .to 
inftruft  or  pleafe,  or  to  mingle  pleafure  with  in- 
ftrudtion.     He  that  inftrudts  muft  offer  to  the 

rim  •  n  A 


K°97-  ^^^   IDLER.  i99 

mind  fomething  to  be  imitated,  or  fomething 
to  be  avoided  ;  he  that  pleafes  muft  offer  new 
images  to  his  reader,  and  enable  him  to  form  a 
tacit  comparifon  of  his  own  ftate  with  that  of 

others. 

The  greater  part  of  Travellers  tell  nothmg, 
becaufe  their  method  of  travelling  fupplies  them 
with  nothing  to  be  told.     He  that  enters  a  town 
at  night,  and  furveys  it  in  the  mormng,  and 
then  haflens  away  to  another  place,  and  guelTes 
at  the  manners  of  the  inhabitants  by  the  en- 
tertainment which  his  inn  afforded  him,  may 
pleafe  himfelf  for  a  time  with  a  hafty  change  of 
fcenes,  and  a  confufed  remembrance  of  Palaces 
and  Churches  ;  he  may  gratify  his  eye  with  va* 
riety  of  Landfcapes,    and  regale  his  palate  with 
.  a  fuccefTion  of  Vintages ;  but  let  him  be  con- 
tented    to    pleafe    himfelf  without    endeavour 
to  difturb  others.     Why  (hould  he  record  ex- 
curfions  by  which  nothing  could  be  learned,  or 
wirti  to  make  a  fhow  of  knowledge  which,  with- 
out fome  power  of  intuition  unknown  to  other 
mortals,  he  never  could  attain. 

Of  thofe  who  crowd  the  world  with  their 
itineraries,  fome  have  no  other  purpofe  than  to 
defcribe  the  face  of  the  country  ;  thole  who  lit 
idle  at  home,  and  are  curious  to  know  what  is 
done  or  fuffered  in  diftant  countries,  may  be 
informed  by  one  of  thefe  wanderers,  that  on  a 
certain  day  he  l.-.   .>ut  early  with  the  caravan, 

K  4  ^""^ 


■     1        .   !l 


ifilSl 


r    f 


aoo 


THE   IDLER. 


N' 


97' 


and  in  the  firft  hour's  march  faw,  towards  the 
fouth,  a  hill  covered  with   trees,    then  paffed 
over  a  ftream,  which  ran  northward  with  a  fvvift 
conrfe,  but  which  is  probably  dry  in  the  lum- 
mer  months ;  that  an  hour  after  he  faw  fome- 
tliing  to  the  right  which  looked  at  a  diftance 
like  a  caftle  with  towers,  but  which  he   difco- 
vered,  after  wards  to  be  a  craggy  rock  ;  that  he 
then  entered  a  valley,  in  which   he  faw  feveral 
trees  tall  and  flourifhing,  watered  by  a  rivulet 
not  marked  in  the  maps,  of  which  he  was  not 
able  to  learn  the  name  ;  that  the  road  afterward 
grew  ftony,  and  the  country  uneven,  where  he 
obferved  among  the  hills  many  hollows  worn 
by  torrents,    and  was  told  that  the  road  was 
pailable  only   part  of  the  year  ;  that  going  on 
they  found  the  remains  of  a  building,  once  per- 
haps a  fortrefs  to  fecure  the  pafs,  or  to  reflraiii 
the  robbers,    of  which  the  prefent  inhabitants 
can  give  no  other  account  than  that  it  is  haunted 
by  Fairies  ;  that  they  went  to  dine  at  the  foot  of 
a  rock,  and  travelled  the  reft  of  the  day  along 
the  banks  of  a  river,  from  which  the  road  turn- 
ed   aiidc  towards  evening,    and  brought   them 
within  fight  of  a  village,  which  was  once  a  con- 
fiderable  town,  but  which  afforded  them  neither 
good  vi<ftuals  nor  commodious  lodging. 

Thus  he  condu£ls  his  reader  through  wet  and 
dry,  over  rough  and  fmooth,  without  incidents, 
without  refiedtion  ;  and,  if  he  obtains  his  com- 
pany 


THE  IDLER. 


201 


pany  for  another  day,  will  difmifs  him  agam  at 
night,  equally  fatigued  with  a  like  fucceiriou  of 
rocks  and  ftreams,  mountains  and  ruins. 

7  his  is  the  common  flyle  of  thoie  fons  of 
enterprize,    who    vifit   favage    countries,    and 
range  through  folitude  and  defolation  ;  who  pafs 
a  defart,  and  tell  that  it   is  fandy  ;  who  crofs  a 
vallev,    and  find  that  it  is  green.     There   are 
others   of   more  delicate  fenfibihty,    that  viht 
only  the  Realms  of  Elegance  and  Softnefs ;  that 
wander  through  Italian  Palaces,  and  amufe  the 
gentle  reader  with  catalogues  of  Piaures  ;  that 
hear  Maffes  in  magnificent  Churches,  and  re- 
count the  Number  of  the  Pillars,  or  Variegations 
of  the  Pavement.     And  there  are  yet  others,  . 
who,  in  difdain  of  trifles,  copy  Inicriptions  elc< 
gant  and  rude,  ancient  and  modern  ;  and  tran- 
fcribe  into  their  book  the  walls  of  every  edifice, 
facred  or  civil.     He  that  reads  thefe  books  muft 
confider  his  labour  as  its  own  reward;  for  he 
will  find  nothing  on   which  Attention  can  fix,, 
or  which  Memory  can  retain. 

He  that  would  travel  for  the  entertainment  of 
others,  lliould  remember  that  the  great  objed 
of  remark  is  human  life.  Every  Nation  has 
fomething  particular  in  its  Manufaftures,  its 
Works  of  Genius,  its  Medicines,  its  Agricul- 
ture, its  Cuftoms,  and  its  Policy.  He  only  is  a 
ufeful  Traveller,  who  brings  home  fomethi-ig 
by  which  his  country  may  be  benefited  \  who 

K  5  pro* 


'¥,, 


ao2  THE  IDLER.  No  97 

procures  fomefupply  of  Want,  or  fomc  mitigation 
of  Evil,  which  may  enable  his  readers  to  com- 
pare their  condition  with  that  of  others,  to  im- 
prove it  whenever  it  is  worfe,  and  whenever  it 
is  better  to  enjoy  it. 


^:^w 


Numb.  98.     Saturday,  March  i,  1760. 


Sir, 


To    tht    IDLE  R. 


I  AM  the  daughter  of  a  Gentleman,  who 
during  his  life-time  enjoyed  a  fmall  income 
which  arofe  from  a  Pcnfion  from  the  Court,  by 
which  he  was  enabled  to  live  in  a  genteel  and 
comfortable  manner. 

By  the  fituation  in  life  in  which  he  was 
placed,  he  was  frequently  introduced  into  the 
company  of  thofe  of  much  greater  fortunes 
than  his  own,  among  whom  he  was  always 
received  with  complaifance,  and  treated  with  ci  - 
vility. 

At  fix  years  of  age  I  was  fent  to  a  boarding 
fchool  in  tlie  country,  at  which  I  continued  tiU 
my  father's  death.    This  melancholy  event  hap- 
pened at  a  time  when  I  was  by  no  means  of 
fofficient  age*  to  manage  for  myfelf,  while  the 

paflion  s 


N"98.  THE   IDLER.  203 

paffions  of  youth  continued  unfubdued,  and  be- 
fore experience  could  guide  my  fentiments  or 

my  actions. 

I  was  then  taken  from  fchool  by  an  uncle,  ta 
the  care  of  whom  my  father  had  committed  me 
on  his  dying-bed.  With  him  1  lived  feveral 
years,  and  as  he  was  unmarried,  the  manage- 
ment of  his  family  was  committed  to  me.  In 
this  charadler  I  always  endeavoured  to  acquit 
myfelf,  if  not  with  applaufe,  at  leaft  without 
cenfure. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-one  a  young  gentleman 
of  fome  fortune  paid  his  addrefles  to  me,  and 
offered  me  terms  of  marriage.  This  propofal 
I  (hould  readily  have  accepted,  becaufe,  from  vi- 
cinity of  relidence,  and  from  many  opportu- 
nities of  obferving  his  behaviour,  I  had  in  fome 
fort  contrafted  an  afFe£lion  for  him.  My  uncle, 
for  what  reafon  I  do  not  know,  refufed  his  con- 
fent  to  this  alliance,  though  it  would  have  been 
complied  with  by  the  father  of  the  young  gen- 
tleman ;  and  as  the  future  condition  of  my  life 
was  wholly  dependent  on  him,  I  was  not  willing 
to  difoblige  him,  and  therefore,  though  unwil- 
lingly, dechned  the  offer. 

My  uncle,  who  poflefled  a  plentiful  fortune, 
frequently  hinted  to  me  in  converfation,  that  at 
his  death  I  fhould  be  provided  for  in  fuch  a  man- 
ner that  I  (hould  be  able  to  make  my  future  life 
comfortable  and  happy.  As  this  promife  was 
often  repeated,  I  was  the  lefs  anxious  about  any 

|L  6  pto- 


^i|^ 


hi 


m 


'  ■'•■  i 


n 


; 


I 


204  THE    IDLER.  NV;8. 

provifion  for  myfclf.  In  a  Ihort  time  my  nncic 
was  taken  ill,  nnd  though  all  pofTihle  means  were 
made  ufc  of  for  his  recovery,  in  a  few  days  he 
died. 

The  forrow  arifingfrom  the  Jofs  of  a  relation, 
by  whom  I  had  been  always  treated  with  the 
greateft  kindnefs,  however  grievous,  was  not 
the  worft  of  my  misfortunes.  As  he  enjoyed  an 
almoft  uninterrupted  Ihte  of  health,  he' was  the 
lefs  mindful  of  his  diflblution,  and  died  intcf- 
tate;  by  which  means  his  whole  fortune  de- 
volved to  a  nearer  relation,  the  heir  at  law. 

Thus  excluded  from  all  hopes  of  living  in  the 
manner  with  which  I  have  fo  long  flattered  my- 
fclf,  I  am  doubtful  what  method  I  fhall  take  to 
procure  a  decent  maintenance.  1  have  been  edu- 
cated in  a  manner  that  has  fct  me  above  a  f^ate 
of  fervitude ;  and  my  fituation  renders  me  unfit 
'  for  the  company  of  thofe  with  whom  T  have  hi- 
therto converfed.  But,  though  difappointed  in 
my  expeftations,  I  do  not  defpair.  I  will  hope 
that  affiftance  may  ftill  be  obtained  for  innocent 
diftref?,  and  that  friendfhip,  though  rare,  is  yet 
not  impoflible  to  be  found. 

I  am,  Sir, 

Your  humble  fervant, 

Sophia  Heedfull* 


Numb, 


I 


N°99- 


THE    IDLER. 


20^ 


Numb.  99.    Saturday,   March  S^  1760. 

AS  Ortogrulo(  Bafra  was  one  clay  wandering 
along  the  ftreets  of  Bct^^rlnty  muilng  on 
the  varieties  of  merchandize  which  the  Ihops 
offered  to  his  view,  and  obferving  the  different 
occupations  which  bufied  the  multitudes  on 
every  fide,  ho  was  awakened  from  the  tranquillity 
of  meditation  by  a  crowd  that  obftru6\ed  hir.  paf- 
fage.  He  railed  his  eyes,  and  fiiw  the  cliicf  Vi- 
fier,  who,  having  returned  from  the  Divan,  was 
entering  his  palace. 

Oitogtul  mingled  with  the  attendants,  and  be- 
ing fuppofcd  to  have  fomc  petition  for  the  Vifier, 
was  permitted  to  enter.  He  furveyed  the  fpa- 
cioufncfs  of  the  apartments,  admired  the  walls 
hung  with  golden  tapeftry,  and  the  floors  co- 
vered whh  filken  carpets,  and  dcfpifcd  the  fimpic 
iieatnefs  of  his  own  little  habitation. 

Surely,  faid  he  to  himfelf,  this  palace  is  the 
feat  of  happinefs,  where  pleafure  fucceeds  10 
pleafure,  and  difcontent  and  forrow  can  have 
no  admilTion.  Whatever  nature  has  provided 
for  the  delight  of  fenfe,  is  here  fprcad  forth  to 
be  enjoyed.  What  can  mortals  hope  or  ima- 
gine, which  the  mailer  of  this  palace  has  not 
obtained  ?  The  diihes  of  luxury  cover  his  table  ; 
the  voice  of  harmony  lulls  him  in  his  bowers ; 

he 


'm 


il  '^i 


%  i'. 


*M 


io6 


THE   IDLER. 


he  breathes  the  fragrance  of  the  groves  of  ^Java^ 
and  flccps  upon  the  down  of  the  cygnets  of 
Ganges.     He  fpeaks,  and  his  mandate  is  obeyed  ; 
he  wilhes,  and  his  wifli  is  gratified  ;  all  whom 
he  fees  obey  him^  and  all  whom  he  hears  flatter 
him.     How  different,  Ortogrui,  is  thy  condition, 
who  art  doomed  to  the  perpetual  torments  of  un- 
fatisfied  defire,  and  who  haft  no  amufcment  in 
thy  power  that  can  withhold  thee  from  thy  own 
reflexions  !  They  tell  thee  that  thou  art  wife ; 
but  what  does  wifdom  avail  with  poverty  ?  None 
will  flatter  the  poor ;  and  the  wife  have  very 
little  power  of  flattering  themfelves.     Tliat  man 
is  furely  the  moft  wretched  of  the  fons  of  wretch- 
ednefs,  who  lives  with   his  own  faults  and  fol- 
lies always  before  him,  and  who  has  none  to 
reconcile  him  to  himfelf  by  praife  and  venera- 
tion.    I  have  long  fought  content,  and  hjtve  not 
found  it ;  I  will  from  this  moment  endeavour  to 
be  rich. 

Full  of  his  new  refolution,  he  Ihut  himfelf  in 
his  chamber  for  fix  months,  to  deliberate  how 
lie  fhould  grow  rich  ;  he  fometimes  purpofed  to. 
offer  himfelf  as  a  counfellor  to  one  of  the  Kings 
of  India  ;  and  fometimes  refolved  to  dig  for 
diamonds  in  the  mines  of  Galconda.  O  \e  day^ 
after  fome  hours  paiTed  in  violent  flu£^M  ^  "  •.  i  f 
opinion,  flecp  infeniibly  feized  him  in  iiis  cnair  ; 
he  dreamed  that  he  was  ranging  a  defart  country 
in  fearch  of  fome  one  that  might  teach  him  to 

grow 


N^99'  THE  IDLER*  aoy 

grow  rich  ;  and  as  he  ftood  on  the  top  of  a  hill 
Siaded  with  cyprefs,  in  doubt  whither  to  dircft 
his  fteps,  his  father  appeared  on  a  fuddcn  {land- 
ing before  him,  **  Ortogrul"  faid  the  old  man, 
**  1  know  thy  perplexity ;  liften  to  thy  father ;  turn 
thine  eye  on  the  oppofite  mountain."  Ortogrut 
looked,  and  faw  a  torrent  tumWing  down  the 
rocks,  roaring  with  the  noife  of  thunder,  and 
fcattcring  its  foam  on  the  impending  woods. 
**  Now,"  faid  his  father,  "  behold  the  valley  that 
lies  between  the  hills.'*  Ortogrul  looked,  and 
efpied  a  little  well,  out  of  which  iffued  a  fmall 
rivulet.  **  Tell  me  now,"  faid  his  father, 
"  doft  thou  wifh  for  fudden  affluence,  that  may 
pour  upon  thee  like  the  mountain  torrent,  or 
for  a  flow  and  gradual  encreafe,  refembling  the 
rill  gliding  from  the  well  }**  **  Let  me  be  quickly 
rich,**  faid  Ortogrul ;  **  let  the  golden  flream  be 
quick  and  violent."  '*  Look  round  thee,"  faid 
his  father,  •*  once  again."  Ortogrul  looked, 
and  perceived  the  channel  of  the  torrent  dry 
and  dufty ;  but  following  the  rivulet  from  the 
well,  he  traced  it  to  a  wide  lake,  which  the  fup- 
ply,  flow  and  conftant,  kept  always  full.  He 
waked,  and  determined  to  grow  rich  by  iilent 
profit,   and  perfevering  induftry. 

Having  fold  his  patrimony,  he  engaged  in 
merchandize,  and  in  twenty  years  purchafed 
lands  on  which  he  raifed  a  houfe,    equal  in 

fump- 


.^illl 


'  )l 


W 


m 


if   . ,, 

m 


I  )V% 


5to8  THE   IDLER,  N°  99. 

fumptuoufnefs  to  that  of  the  Vifier,  td  which 
he  invited  all  the  minifters  of  pleafnre,  ex- 
pe,!ting  to  enjoy  all  the  felicity  which  he  had 
imagined  riches  able  to  afford.  Leifure  foon 
made  him  weary  of  himfelf,  and  he  longed  to 
be  perfuaded  that  he  was  great  and  happy. 
He  was  courteous  and  liberal )  he  gave  all  that" 
approached  him  hopes  of  pleafing  him,  and  all 
who  iliould  pleafe  him,  hopes  of  being  rewarded. 
Every  art  of  praife  was  tried,  and  every  fource 
of  adulatory  fiflion  was  exhaufted.  Ortogrul 
heard  his  flatterers  without  delight,  becaule  he 
found  himfelf  unable  to  believe  them.  His 
own  heart  told  him  its  frailties ;  his  own  un- 
derflanding  reproached  him  with  his  faults. 
"How  long,"  faid  be,  with  a  deep  figh,  **  have 
I  been  labouring  in  vain  to  amafs  wealth  which 
at  lail  is  ufelefs  !  Let  no  man  hereafter  wilh 
to  be  rich,  who  is  already  too  wife  to  be  flat- 
tered !'*        ' 


Kc 


MB< 


N'  100. 


THE    IDLER. 


209 


Numb.  ico.    Saturday,  March  15,  1760. 
^    ro  the  IDLER. 

Sir,  -■^• 

THE  uncertainty  and  defeas  of  Language 
have  produced  very  frequent  complaints 
among  the  Learned ;  yet  there  flill  remaui  many 
words  among  us  undefined,  which  are  very  ne- 
ceflary  to  be  rightly  underftood,  and  which  pro- 
duce veryinifchievous  miftakes  when  they  are 
erroneoufly  interpreted. 

I  lived  in  a  ftate  of  celibacy  beyond  the  ufual 
time.  In  the  hurry  firft  of  pleafure,  and  after- 
wards of  bufinefs,  1  felt  no  want  of  a  domeftick 
companion  ;  but,  becoming  weary  of  labour,  I 
foon  grew  more  weary  of  idlenefs,  and  thought 
it  reafonable  to  follow  the  cuftom  of  life,  and  to 
feek  fome  folace  of  my  cares  In  female  tender- 
nefs,  and  fome  amufement  of  my  leifure  in  fe- 
male chearfulnefs. 

The  choice  which  has  been  long  delayed  is 
commonly  made  at  lafl  with  great  caution.  My 
lei'oiution  was,  to  keep  my  palBons  neutral,  and 
to  marry  only  in  compliance  with  my  reafoi.  I 
drew  upon  a  page  in  my  pocket-book  a  fchcme 
of  all  female  virtues  a!\d  vices,  with  the  vices 
which  border  upon  every  virtue,  and  the  virtues 
which  are  allied  to  everv  vice.     I  confidercd  that 

wit 


^  'i;,!' 


J. 


210 


THE  IDLER. 


wit  was  farcaftick,  and  magnanimity  imperious ; 
that  avarice  was  oeconomical,  and  ignorance  ob- 
fequious  ;  and  having  efti mated  the  good  and 
evil  of  every  quality,  employed  my  own  diligence, 
and  that  of  my  friends,  to  find  the  lady  in  whom 
nature  and  reafon  had  reached  that  happy  medio- 
crity which  :s  equally  remote  from  exuberance 
and  deficiency. 

Every  woman  has  her  admirers  and  her  cen- 
furers,  and  the  expeftations  which  one  raifed 
were  by  another  quickly  deprefled  :  yet  there 
was  one  in  whofe  favour  almoft  all  fulFrages 
concurred.  Mifs  Gentle  was  univerfally  al- 
lowed to  be  a  good  fort  of  woman.  Her  for- 
tune was  not  large,  but  fo  prudently  managed, 
that  Ihe  wore  finer  cloaths  and  faw  more  com- 
pany than  many  who  were  known  to  be  twice 
as  rich.  Mifs  Gentle* s  vifits  were  every  where 
welcome;  and,  whatever  family  ftie  favoured  with 
her  company,  Ihe  always  left  behind  her  fuch  a 
degree  of  kindnefs  as  recommended  her  to 
others ;  every  day  extended  her  acquaintance, 
and  all  who  knew  her  declared  that  they  never 
met  with  a  better  fort  of  woman. 

To  Mifs  Gentle  I  made  my  addrefles,  and  was 
received  with  great  equality  of  temper.  She  did 
not  in  the  days  of  courtfhip  aflume  the  privilege 
of  impofing  rigorous  commands,  or  refenting 
flight  offences.  If  I  forgot  any  of  her  injundtions, 
I  was  gently  reminded  ;  if  I  miffed  the  minute 
of  appointment,  I  was  eafiiy  forgiven,    i  forefaw 

nothing 


•  i, 


*    ■  I 


W  100. 


THE   IDLER. 


2X1 


nothing  in  marriage  but  a  halcyon  calm,  and 
longed  for  the  happinefs  which  was  to  be  found 
in  the  infeparable  fociety  of  a  good  fort  of  wo- 
man. 

The  jointure  was  foon  fettled  by  the  inter- 
vention of  friends,  and  the  day  came  in  which 
Mifs  Gentle  was  made  mine  for  ever.  The  firft 
month  was  pafled  eafily  enough  in  receiving  and 
repaying  the  civilities  of  our  friends.  The  bride 
pradlifed  with  great  exaanefs  all  the  niceties  of 
ceremony,  and  diftributed  her  notice  in  the  moft 
punftilious  proportions  to  the  friends  who  fur- 
rounded  us  with  their  happy  auguries. 

But  the  time  foon  came  when  we  were  left  to 
ourfelves,  and  were  to  receive  our  pleafures  from 
each  other  ;  and  I  then  began  to  perceive  that  I 
was  not  formed  to  be  much  delighted  by  a  good 
fort  of  woman.  Her  great  principle  is,  that  the  or- 
ders of  a  family  mull  not  be  broken.  Every  hour 
of  the  day  has  its  emyloyment  inviolably  appro- 
priated, nor  will  any  importunity  perfuade  her 
to  walk  in  the  garden  at  the  time  which  fhe  has 
devoted  to  her  needlework,  or  to  fit  up  {lairs  in 
'that  part  of  the  forenoon  which  Ihc  has  accuf- 
tomed  herfelf  to  fpend  in  the  back  parlour.  She 
allows  herfelf  to  fit  half  an  hour  after  breakfaO, 
and  an  hour  after  dinner  ;  while  I  am  talking  or 
reading  to  her,  (he  keeps  her  eye  upon  her 
watch,  and  when  the  minute  of  departure  comes, 
will  leave  an  argument  unfinillied,  or  the  in- 
trigue 


I 


2l2 


THE  IDLER. 


<T0 


100. 


rl;  i 


ii 


trigue  of  a  play  unravelled.  She  once  called  me 
to  fupper  when  I  was  watching  an  ecliple,  and 
fommoned  me  at  another  time  to  bed  when  1 
was  going  to  give  dire£tions  at  a  fire. 

Pier  converfation  is  fo  habitually  cautious, 
that  the  never  talks  to  me  but  in  general  terms, 
as  to  one  whom  it  is  dangerous  to  truft.  For 
difcriminations  of  character  fhe  has  no  names; 
all  whom  fhe  mentions  are  honeft  men  and 
agreeable  women.  She  fmiles  not  by  fen- 
fation,  but  by  pra6tice.  Her  laughter  is  never 
excited  but  by  a  joke,  and  her  notion  of  a  joke 
is  not  very  delicate.  The  repetition  of  a  good 
joke  does  not  weaken  its  efFe£l';  if  llie  has 
laughed  once,  fhe  will  laugh  again. 

She  is  an  enemy  to  nothing  but  ill-nature 
and  pride,  but  fhe  has  frequent  reafon  to  lament 
that  they  are  fo  frequent  in  the  world.  All  who 
are  not  equally  pleafed  with  the  good  and  bad, 
with  the  elegant  and  grofs,  with  the  witty  and 
the  dull,  all  who  diftinguifh  excellence  from 
defe£t,  fhe  conliders  as  ill-natured  ;  and  fhe  con- 
demns as  proud  all  who  reprefs  impertinence  or 
quell  prefumption,  or  expert  refpefl  from  any 
other  eminence  than  that  of  fortune,  to  which 
file  is  always  willing  to  pay  homage. 

There  are  none  whom  fhe  openly  hates  ;  for  if 
once  fhe  fufFers,  or  believes  herfelf  to  fuffer, 
any  contempt  or  infult,  fhe  never  difmifTes  it 
from  her  mind,  but  takes  all  opportunities  to  tell 

how 


N*  100. 


THE   IDLER. 


213 


how  eafily  fhe  can  forgive.  There  are  none 
whom  fhe  loves  much  better  than  others  ;  for 
when  any  of  her  acquaintance  dechne  in  the 
opinion  of  the  world,  flie  ahvays  fmds  it  incon- 
venient to  viiit  them  ;  her  affeftion  continues 
unaltered,  but  it  is  impoffible  to  be  intimate 
with  the  whole  town. 

She  daily  exercifes  her  benevolence  by  pitying 
every  misfortune  that  happens  to  every  family 
within  her  circle  of  notice  ;  flie  is  in  hourly  ter- 
rors left  one  fliould  catch  cold  in  the  rain,  and 
another  be  frighted  by  the  high  wind.  Her 
charity  fhe  fliews  by  lamenting  that  fo  many 
poor  wretches  fhould  languilh  in  the  ftreets,  and 
by  wondering  what  the  great  can  think  on  that 
they  do  fo  little  good  with  fuch  large  eftates. 

Her  houfe  is  elegant,  and  her  table  dainty, 
though  fhe  has  little  tafte  of  elegance,  and  is 
wholly  free  from  vicious  luxury ;  but  fhe  com- 
forts herfelf  that  nobody  can  fay  that  her 
houfe  is  dirty,  or  that  her  difhes  are  not  well 
dreft. 

This,  Mr.  Idle^^  I  have  found  by  long  expe- 
rience to  be  the  character  of  a  good  fort  of  wo- 
man, which  I  have  fent  you  for  the  information 
of  thofe  by  whom  a  good  fort  of  woman  and  a 
good  woman  miay  happen  to  be  ufed  as  equiva- 
lent terms,  and  who  may  fufFer  by  the  miftake, 
like 

Your  humble  fervant, 

NUMB» 


•*■  !l 


'  i  i, 


214 


THE   IDLER.  N°  loi, 


KuMB,  loi.    Saturday,  March  22,  1760. 

OMAR,  the  fon  of  Huffan,  had  paffed  fc- 
venty  five  years  in  honour  and  profpe- 
nty  The  favour  of  three  fucceflive  CaUfs  had 
filled  his  houfe  with  gold  and  filver ;  and  when- 
ever  he  appeared,  the  benediftions  of  the  people 
proclaimed  his  paflage. 

Terreftrial  happinefs  is  of  (hort  continuance. 
The  brightnefs  of  the  flame  is  waftmg  its  fuel ; 
the  fragrant  flower  is  pafling  away  in  its  own 
odours.  The  vigour  of  Omar  began  to  fail,  the 
curls  of  beauty  fell  from  his  head,  llrength  de- 
parted  from  his  hands,  and  agility  from  his  feet. 
He  gave  back  to  the  Calif  the  keys  of  truft  and  the 
feals  of  fecrecy ;  and  fought  no  other  pleafure  for 
the  remains  of  life  than  the  converfe  of  the  wife, 
and  the  gratitude  of  the  good.  ^ 

The  powers  of  his  mind  were  yet  unimpaired. 
His  chamber  was  filled  by  vifitants,  eager  to 
catch  the  diaates  of  experience,  and  officious  to 
pay  the  tribute  of  admiration.  Caled,  the  fon  of 
the  viceroy  o(  Egypt,  entered  every  day  early, 
and  retired  late.  He  was  beautiful  and  eloquent ; 
Omar  admired  his  wit,  and  loved  his  docility. 
Tell  me,  faid  Caled,  thou  to  whofe  voice  na- 
tions  have  Uftened,  and  whofe  wifdom  is  known 
to  the  extremities  of  ^>,  tell  me  how  I  may 
..r.«,M.  Qmnr  the  orudent.    The  arts  by  which 


N'loi.  .        THE   IDLER.  tij 

you  haye  gained  power  and  preferved  it,  are  to 
you  no  longer  neceflary  or  ufeful ;  impart  to  me 
the  fecret  of  your  conduft,  and  teach  me  the 
plan  upon  which  your  wifdom  has  built  your 
fortune. 

Young  man,  faid  Omar^  it  is  of  little  ufe  to 
form  plans  of  life.  When  I  took  my  firft  furvey 
of  the  world,  in  my  twentieth  year,  having  con- 
iidered  the  various  conditions  of  mankind,  in 
the  hour  of  folitude  I  faid  tlius  to  myfelf,  lean- 
ing againft  a  cedar  which  fpread  its  branches 
over  my  head  j  "  Seventy  years  are  allowed  tp 
man ;  I  have  yet  fifty  remaining :  Ten  years  I 
will  allot  to  the  attainment  of  knowledge,  and 
ten  I  will  pafs  in  foreign  countries ;  I  (hall  b«' 
learned,  and  therefore  fhall  be  honoured ;  every 
city  will  fhout  at  my  arrival,  and  every  ftudent 
will  folicit  my  friendlhip.  Twenty  years  thus 
palTed  will  ftore  my  mind  with  images,  which 
I  (hall  be  bufy  through  the  reft  of  my  life  in 
combining  and  comparing.  I  (hall  revel  in  in- 
exhauftible  accumulations  of  intelle£tual  riches; 
1  (hall  find  new  pleafures  for  every  moment,  and 
fhall  never  more  be  weary  of  myfelf.  I  will, 
however,  not  deviate  too  far  from  the  beaten 
track  of  life,  but  will  try  what  can  be  found  in 
female  delicacy.  I  will  marry  a  wife  beauti- 
ful as  the  Houries,  and  wife  as  Zobeide ;  with  her 
I  will  live  twenty  years  within  the  fuburbs  of 
Bogdat^  in  every  pleafure  that  wealth  can  pur- 


n 


'jiiill 


irl 


11 


I     *1 


M 
n 


2i6  THfe  IDLER.  N"  loi. 

chafe,  and  fancy  can  invent.  I  will  then  retire  to 
a  rural  dwelling,  pafs  my  days  in  obfcurity  and 
contcmpLuion,  and  lie  filently  down  on  the  bed 
of  death.  Through  my  life  it  (hall  be  my  fet- 
tled rcfolution,  that  1  will  never  depend  upon 
the  fmilc  of  Princes ;  that  I  will  never  ftand  ex- 
pofed  to  the  artifices  of  courts  ;  I  will  never 
pant  for  publick  honours,  nor  dillurb  my  quiet 
with  affairs  of  fl:ate."  Such  was  my  fcheme  of 
hfe,  which  I  irapreffed  indeUbly  upon  my  me- 
mory. 

The  flrft  part  of  my  enfuing  time  was  to  be 
fpent  in  fearch  of  knowledge,  and  I  know  not 
how  I  was  diverted  from  my  delign.  I  had  no 
vifible  impediments  without,  nor  any  ungovern- 
able paffions  within.  I  regarded  knowledge  as 
the  higheft  honour  and  the  moft  engaging 
pleafure  ;  yet  day  ftole  upon  day,  and  month 
glided  after  month,  till  1  found  that  feven  years 
of  the  firft  ten  had  vanifhed,  and  left  nothing 
behind  them.  I  now  poflponed  my  purpofe  of 
travelling  ;  for  why  fhould  I  go  abroad  while  fo 
much  remained  to  be  learned  at  home  ?  I  im- 
mured myfelf  for  four  years,  and  iludied  the 
laws  of  the  empire.  The  fame  of  my  fkill 
reached  the  judges  ;  I  was  found  able  to  fpeak 
upon  doubtful  queflions,  and  was  commanded 
to  {land  at  the  footftool  of  the  Califf.  I  was 
heard  with  attention,  I  was  confulted  with  con- 
6  ^    .  fidence, 


N^'ioi.  THE. IDLER.  217 

fidence,  and  the  love  of  praife  fattened  on  my 
heart. 

Iftill  wifhed  to  fee  diftant  countries,  liflened' 
with  rapture  to  the  relations  of  travellers,  and 
lefolved  foiTie  time  to  alk  my  difmiflion,  that  1 
might  feall  my  foul  with  novelty  ;  but  my  prc- 
fence  was  always  neceflary,  and  the  ftrcam  of 
btifniefs  hurried  me  along.  Sometimes  I  was 
afraid  left  I  fliould  be  charged  with  ingratitude; 
but  I  ftill  propofcd  to  travel,  and  therefore  would 
not  confine  myfelf  by  marriage. 

In  my  fiftieth  year  I  began  to  fufpea  that  the 
time  of  travelling  was  paft,  and  thought  it  beft 
to  lay  hold  on  the  felicity  yet  in  my  power,  and 
iiidulgc  myfelf  in  domeftick  pleafurcs.  lint  at 
iifty  no  man  cafily  finds  a  woman  beautiful  as 
the  Houries,  and  wife  as  Zobelde,  1  enquired  and 
rejefted,  confulted  and  deliberated,  till  the  lixtv- 
fecond  year  made  me  afliamed  of  gazing  upon 
girls.  I  had  now  nothing  left  but  retirement  ; 
and  for  retirement  I  never  found  a  time,  till' 
difeafe  forced  me  from  publick  employment. 

Such  was  my  fcheme,  and  fuch  has  been  its 
confequence.  With  an  infatiable  thirft  for 
knowledge,  I  trifled  away  the  years  of  improve- 
ment j  with  a  reftlefs  defire  of  feeing  different 
countries,  I  have  always  refided  in  the  fame 
city  ;  with  the  higheft  expe^ation  of  cojinu- 
bial  felicity,  I  have  lived  unmarried ;  and  with 
unalterable  refolutions  of  contemplative  retire« 

Vol.  II,  L  m^nf. 


m 


laummtmumfrnkMummm* 


2i8  THE  IDLER.  N*' loi. 

mcnt,  I  am  going  to  die  within  the  walls  of 


ffft^ 


Numb.  102.   Saturday,  Mar.h  29,  1760. 

IT  very  feldom  happens  to  man  that  his  bufi- 
nefs  is  his  pleafure.  What  is  done  from 
neceflity,  is  fo  often  to  be  done  when  againft 
the  prefent  inclination,  and  fo  often  fills  the 
mind  with  anxiety,  that  an  habitual  diflike  deals 
upon  us,  and  we  Ihrink  involuntarily  from  the 
remembrance  of  our  talk.  This  is  the  reafon 
why  almoft  every  one  wilhes  to  quit  his  employ- 
ment ;  he  does  not  like  another  Hate,  but  is 

difgufted  with  his  own. 

From  this  unwiUingnefs  to 'perform  more 
than  is  required  of  that  which  is  commonly  per- 
formed with  reluaance.  it  proceeds  that  few 
Authors  write  their  own  lives.  Statefmen  ; 
Courtiers,  Ladies,  Generals,  and  Seamen  have 
Civen  to  th6  world  their  own  ftories,  and  the 
events  with  which  their  different  ftations  have 
made  them  acquainted.  They  retired  to  the 
clofet  as  to  a  place  of  quiet  and  amufeme«t,  and 
pleafed  themfelves  with  writing,  becaufe  they 
could  lay  down  the  pen  whenever  they  were 


N'^io'i.         THfi   IDLER. 


219 


weary.  But  the  Author,  however  confpicuous, 
or  however  important,  cither  in  the  public  eye 
or  in  his  own,  leaves  his  life  to  be  related  by  his 
fucceflbrs,  for  he  cannot  gratify  his  vanity  but 
by  facrificing  his  cafe. 

It  is  cqmmonly  fuppofed  that  the  uniformity 
of  a  ftudious  life  afFords  no  matter  for  narration  : 
but  the  truth  is,  that  of  the  moft  ftudious  life  a 
great  part  pafTes  v^rithout  ftudy.  An  Author 
partakes  of  the  common  condition  of  humanity  : 
he  is  born  and  married  like  another  man ;  he 
has  hopes  and  fears,  expeftatlans  and  difap- 
pointments,  griefs  and  joys,  and  friends  and  ene- 
mies, like  a  courtier  or  a  ftatcfman  ;  nor  can  I 
conceive  why  his  affairs  fliould  not  excite  cu- 
riofity  as  much  as  the  whifpcr  of  a  drawing- 
room,  or  the  faftioiis  of  a  camp. 

Nothing  detains  the  Reader's  attention  more 
powerfully  than  deep  involutions  ofdiftrefs,  or 
fudden  viciflitudes  of  fortune  ;  and  thefe  mitrht 
be  abundantly  afforded  by  memoirs  of  the  foris 
of  literature.  They  are  entangled  by  contracts 
which  they  know  not  how  to  fulfill,  and  obliged 
to  write  on  fubjeds  which  they  do  not  under - 
fland.  Every  publication  is  a  new  period  of 
time,  from  which  fomeincreafc  or  declenfion  of 
fame  is  to  be  reckoned.  The  gradations  of  a 
Hero's  life  arc  from  battle  to  battle,  and  of  an 
Author's  from  book  to  book. 

L  2  Succcfs 


i ' 


jao  *  THE   IDLER.  M' 102. 

Surccfs  and  mifcarriagc  have  the  fame  cfFcas 
in  all  conditions.     The  profperous  arc  feared, 
hated,    and     flattered;     and    the    unfortunate 
avoided,  pitied,  and  defplfed.    No  fooner  is  a 
boc  k  publifhcd,  than  the  writer  may  judge  of  the 
opinion  of  the  world.     If  his  acquaintance  prefs 
round  him  in  public  places,   or  falute  him  from 
the   other  fide  of  the  ftrcet ;  if  invitations  to 
dinner  come  thick  upon  him,  and  thole  with 
whom  he   dines  keep  him   to  fupper  ;  if  the 
ladies   turn  to  him  when  his  coat  is  plain,  and 
the  footmen  ^»ve  him  with  attention  and  ala- 
crity ;  he  may   be  fure  that  his  work  has  been 
-praifea  by  fome  leader  of  literary  falhions. 

Of  declining  reputation  the  fymptoms  are  not 
Icfs  eafily  obferved.  If  the  Author  enters  a 
roffee-houfe,  he  has  a  box  to  himfelf  ;  if  he  calls 
at  a  bookfeller's,  the  boy  turns  h.s  back ;  aiid, 
what  is  the  moft  fatal  of  all  prognofticks,  Au- 
thors  will  vlllt  him  in  a  morning,  and  talk  to 
bim  hour  after  hour  of  the  malevolence  of 
criticks,  the  neglea  of  merit,  the  bad  tafte  of 
the  age,  and  the  candour  of  poftenty. 

All  this,  modified  and  varied  by  accident  and 
cuftom,  would  form  very  amufing  fcciies  of 
biography,  and  might  recreate  many  a  mind 
which  is  very  little  delighted  with  confpiracies 
or  battles,  intrigues  of  a  court  or  deb^^^^  <;{  ^ 
a  Parliament.  To  diis  might  be  added  ^all  tli£ 
*  changes 


N"  loa. 


THE  IDLER. 


221 


changes  of  the  countenance  of  a  patron,  traced 
ftom  the  firft  glow  which  flattery  raifcs  in  his 
check,  through  ardour  of  fondneft,  vehemence 
of  promife,  magnificence  of  praifc,  excufe  of 
delay,  and  lamentation  of  inability,  to  the  hft 
chill  look  of  final  difmifTion,  when  the  one 
grows  weary  of  foliciting,  and  the  other  of  hear- 
ing folicitation.  *    *  ' 

Thus  copious  are  the  materials  which  have 
been  hitherto  fiifTered  to  lie  negleaed,  while  the 
repofitories- of  every  family  that  has  produced  a 
foldicrora  minifterareranfacked,  and  libraries  are 
crowded  with  ufelefs  folios  of  ftate-papers,  which 
will  never  be  read,  and  which  contribute  no- 
tiling  to  valuable  knowledge. 

I  hope  the  learned  will  be  taught  to  know 
their  own  ftrength  and  their  value,  and,  inftead 
of  devoting  their  lives  to  the  honour  of  thofe 
who  feldom  thank  them  for  their  labours,  rc- 
ib)ve  at  lad  to  do  juftice  to  themfelves. 


L3 


Numb* 


i.  i.^  wf  r  mil  ■  I  It  II I  ii  ii'  II  '  ammmmmm 


11 


222 


THE  IDLER. 


N"  103- 


NuMB.  103.    Saturday,   yfprl^  S*  i?^^* 

Rf/ficen  Ad  lon^a juJOit fpal'ta  ultima  vita,  Ju  V. 

MUCH  of  the  Pain  and  Pleafure  of  man- 
kind arifes  from  the  conjeftures  which 
every  one  makes  of  the  thoughts  of  others- ;  we 
"all  enjoy  praife  which  we  do  not  hear,  and 
refent  contempt  which  we  da  not  fee.  The  Wer 
may  therefore  be  forgiven,  if  he  fuffershis  Ima- 
gination to  reprefent  to  him  what  his  readers 
will  fay  or  think  when  they  are  informed  that 
they  have  now  his  laft  paper  in  their  hands. 

Value  is  more  frequently  raifed  by  fcarcity 
than  by  ufe.  That  which  lay  neglefted  whea 
it  was  common,  rifes  in  eftimation  as  its  quan- 
tity becomes  Icfs.  We  feldom  learn  Uie  true 
want  of  what  we  have,  tUl  it  is  difcpvered  th«^ 
we  can  have  no  more. 

This  effay  will,  perhaps,  be  read  with  care 
even  by  thofe  who  have  not  yet  attended  to  any 
other  ;  and  he  that  finds  this  late  attention  re- 
compenfed,  will  not  forbear  to  wilh  that  he  had 
beftowed  it  fooner. 

Though  the  Mr  and  his  readers  have  con- 
traaed  no  clofe  friendlhip,  they  are  perkaps 
both  unwilling  to  part.  There  are  few  things 
not  purely  evil,  of  which  we  can  fay,  without 
fome   emotion  of  uneafmefs,    this  is  thejaji. 

Thoi« 


N°io3.  THE  IDLER.  223 

Thofe  who  never  could  agree  together,  Ihed 
tears  when  mutual  4il'content  has  determined 
them  to  final  reparation  ;  of  a  place  which  has 
been  frequently  vifited,  though  without  plcsfure, 
the  laft  look  is  taken  with  heayinefs  of  heart ; 
and  the  Idler ^  with  all  his  chillnefs  of  tranquil- 
lity, is  not  wholly  un^ffeaed  by  the  thought, 
that  his  laft  eflay  is  now  before  him. 

This  fecret  horror  of  the  laft  is  infeparable 
from  a  thinking  being,  whofe  Hfe  is  limited, 
and  to  whom  death  is  dreadful.  We  always 
make  a  fecret  comparifon  between  a  part  and  the 
whole  ;  the  termination  of  any  period  of  life 
reminds  us  that  life  itfelf  has  likewiie  its  termina- 
tion ;  when  we  have  done  any  thing  for  the  laft 
time,  we  involuntarily  refleft  that  a  part  of  the 
days  allotted  us  is  paft,  and  that  as  more  is  paft 
thete  is  lefs  remaining. 

It  is  very  happily  and  kindly  provided,  that  in 
every  life  there  are  certain  paufes  and  interrup- 
tions, which  force  confiderations  upon  the 
carelefs,  and  ferioufnefs  upo'i  the  light;  points 
of  time  where  one  courfe  of  aftion  ends,  ancj 
another  begins  ;  and  by  viciffitude  of  fortune, 
or  alteration  of  employment,  by  change  of  place, 
or  lofs  of  friendftiip,  we  are  forced  to  fay  of 
fomething,  this  is  the  laft. 

An  even  and  unvaried  tenour  of  life  always 
hides  fromr  our  apprehenlion  the  approach  of 

L  4  ks 


I!' 


THE  IDLER. 


K' 


224  1  y^ii'  iU  l.iL  K.  JN^  103^. 

its  end.  Succeffion  is  not  perceived  but  by 
variation  ;  he  that  lives  to-day  as  he  lived  yef- 
terday,  and  expe6ls  that  as  the  pvefent  day  is^ 
fuch  will  be  the  m-orrow,  eaiily  conceives  time 
as  running  in  a  circle  and  returning  to  itfelf. 
The  uncertainty  of  our  duration  is  imprefled 
commonly  by  dilTimilitude  of  condition  ;  it  is 
only  by  finding  life  changeable  that  we  are  re- 
minded of  its  Ihortnefs. 

This  convi£lion,  however  forcible  at, every 
tiew  impreflion,  is  every  moment  fading  froni 
the  mind  ;  and  partly  by  the  inevitable  incur- 
fio»  of  new  images,  and  partly  by  voluntary 
excluiion  of  unwelcome  thoughts,  we  are  aga'uv 
expofed  to  the  univerfal  fallacy ;  and  we  nmft 
do  another  thing  for  the  laft  time,  before  we 
confider  that  the  time  is  nigh  when  we  (hall  db^ 
MO  more. 

•  As  the  laft  IJIer  is  publifhcd'in  that  folemn 
week  which  the  Chriftian  world  has  always 
fet  apart  for  the  examination  of  the  confci- 
cnce,  the  review  of  life,  the  extinftion  of 
earthly  defires,  and  the  renovation  of  holy  pur- 
pofes ;  I  hope  that  my  readers  are  already  dif- 
pofed  to  view  every  incident  with  ferioufnefs, 
and  improve  it  by  meditation  ;  and  that,  when 
they  fee  this  feries  of  trities  brought  to  a  con- 
cluiion,  they  will  confider  that,  by  outliving 
the  liikr^  they  have  pafled  weeks j  months,  anxl 

jears> 


N**  loj.  THE  IDLER.  225 

years,  which  are  now  no  longer  in  their  power  ; 
that  an  end  muft  in  time  be  put  to  every  thing 
great  as  to  every  thing  little ;  that  to  life 
muft  come  its  laft  hour,  and  to  this  fyftem  ©f 
being  its  laft  day,  the  hour  at  which  probation 
ceafes,  and  repentance  will  be  vain  ;  the  day 
in  which  every  work  of  the  hand,  and  imagina- 
tion of  the  heart,  (hall  be  brought  to  judge- 
ment, and  an  everlafting  futurity  Ihall  be  de- 
termined by  the  paft. 


iiiiiii 


END  OF  THE  IDLER. 


*XXXX* 


L5 


i. 


U 


I 


C  *^9  •  3 


,S^^%>^^k^^'^^^i>>'^^^'^>'^^^^ 


mi 


AN 


E 


A 


ON 


EPITAPHS. 

THOUGH  criticifin  has  been  cultivated  in 
every  age  of  learning,  by  men  of  great 
abilities  and  extenfive  knowledge,  till  the  rules 
of  writing  are  become  rather  burthenfome  than 
inftruftive  to  the  mind  ;  though  almoft  every 
fpecics  of  composition  has  been  the  fubje£l  of 
particular  treatifes,  and  given  birth  to  defini- 
tions, diflin£lions,  precepts,  and  illuftrations ; 
yet  no  critic  of  note,  that  has  fallen  within 
my  obfervation,  has  hitherto  thought  fepukbral 
infcripttons  worthy-  of  a  minute  examination,,  or 
pointed  out  with  proper  accuracy  their  beauties 
and  defeds.  •  - 

The 


'.'lit 


i 

til 


■V 


I J 


I 


a30        ESSAY  ON  EPITAPHS. 

The  reafons  of  this  negleft  it  is  ufelefs  to  en- 
quire, and  perhaps  impoflible  to  difcover;  it 
might  be  juftly  expefted  that  this  kind  of  writing 
would  have  been  the  favourite  topic  of  criticifm, 
and  that  felf-love  might  have  produced  forae  re- 
gard for  it,  in  thofe  authors  that  have  crowded 
libraries  with  elaborate  differtations  upon  Hcmer ; 
lince  to  afford  a  fubjeft  for  heroic  poems  is  the 
privilege  of  very  few,  but  every  man  may  ex- 
pert to  be  recorded  in  an  epitaph,  and  therefore 
finds  fome  intereftin  providing  that  his  memory 
may  not  fuffer  by  an  unlkilful  panegyrick. 

If  our  prejudices  in  favour  of  antiquity  deferve 
to  have  any  part  in  the  regulation  of  our  fludies, 
Epitaphs  feem  entitled  to  more  than  common 
regard,  as  they  are  probably  of  the  fame  age  with 
the  art  of  writing.    The  moft  ancient  ftruaures 
jn  the  world,  the  Pyramids,  are  fuppofed  to  be 
fepulchral  monuments,  which  either  pride  or 
grathude  ereaed  ;  and  the  fame  paffions  which 
incited  men  to  fuch  laborious   and   expenfive 
methods  of  preferving  their  own  memory,  or 
that  of  their  benefaftors,  would  doubtlefs  incline 
them  not  to  negleft  any  eafier  means  by  which  the 
fame  ends  might  be  obtained.   Nature  and  Rea- 
fon  have  dilated  to  every  nation,  that  to  pre- 
ferve  good  afti'ons  from  oblivion,   is  both  the 
intereft  and  duty  of  mankind  :  and  therefore  we 
find  no  people,  acquainted  witli  thcufe  of  letters, 

that 


If    ' 


•feSSAY  ON  EPITAPHS.        431 

that  o.nittcd  to  grace  the  tombs  of  their  heroes 
and  wife  men  with  panegyrical  infcriptions. 

To  examine,  therefore,  in  what  the  perfec- 
tion of  Epitaphs  confifts,  and  what  rules  are 
to  be  obferved  in  compofing  them,  will  be  at 
leaft  of  as  much  u'fe  as  other  critical  enquiries  ; 
and  for  afligning  a  few  hours  to  fuch  difquili- 
tions,  great  examples  at  leaft,  if  not  ftrong  rea- 
fons,  may  be  pleaded. 

An  Epitaph,  as  the  word  itfelf  implies,  is 
an  infcrlption  on  the  t<imb,  and  in  its  moft  exten- 
five  import  may  admit  indifcriminately  fatire  or 
praife.  But  as  malice  has  feldom  produced  mo- 
numents of  defamation,  and  the  tombs  hitherto 
raifed  have  been  the  work  of  friendfliip  and  be- 
nevolence, cuftom  has  contrafted  the  original 
latitude  of  the  word,  fo  that  it  fignifies,  in  the 
general  acceptation,  an  infcription  engraven  on  a 
tomb  in  honour  of  the  per/on  deceafed. 

As  honours  are  paid  to  the  dead  in  order  to 
incite  others  to  the  imitation  of  their  excel- 
lences, the  principal  intention  of  Epitaphs  is 
to  perpetuate  the  examples  of  virtue,  that  the 
tomb  of  a  good  man  may  fupply  the  want  of  his 
prefence,  and  veneration  for  his  memory  pro- 
duce the  fame  efFe(Sfc  as  the  obfervation  of  his 
life.  Thofe  Epitaphs  are,  therefore,  the  moft 
perfect,  which  fet  virtue  in  the  ftrongeft  light, 
and  are  beft  adapted  to  exalt  the  reader's  ideas, 

and  roufe  his  emulation. 

%  To 


I 


332     ESSAY   ON  EPITAPHS;, 

To  this  end  it  is  not  always  neceflary  to  re- 
count the  a£lions  of  a  Hero,  or  enumerate  the 
writings  of  a  Philofopher ;  to  imagine  fuch  in- 
formations neceflary,  is  to  detract  from  their 
characters,  or  to  fuppofe  their  works  mortal,  or 
their  atchievements  in  dangpr  of  being  forgotten. 
The  bare  name  of  fuch  men  anfwers  every  pur- 
pofe  of  a  long  infcription. 

Had  only  the  name  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
been  fubjoined  to  the  defign  upon  his  monu- 
ment, inftead  of  a  long  detail  of  his  difcoveries, 
which  no  Philofopher  can  want,  and  which 
none  but  a  Philofopher  can  undcrftand,  thofe, 
by  whofe  direftion  it  was  raifed,  had  done  more 
honour  both  to  him  and  to  fhemfelvcs. 
,  This  indeed  is  a  commendation  which  it 
^requires  no  genius  to  beflow,  but  which  can 
never  become  vulgar  or  contemptible,  if  be- 
flowed  with  judgement,  becaufe  no  Ungle  age 
produces  many  men  of  merit  fuperior  to  pane- 
gyrick.  None  but  tlie  firfl:  names  can  fland 
unaflifted  againft  the  attacks  of  time  ;  and  if 
men,  raifed  to  reputation  by  accident  or  caprice, 
have  nothing  but  their  names  engraved  on  their 
>tombs,  there  is  danger  left  in  a  few  years  the 
infcription  require  an  interpreter.  Thus  have 
their  expectations  been  difappointed  who  ho» 
noured  Picus  of  Mirandula  vvitli  this  pompous 
epitaph : 

.  Hie 


M.    A 


ESSAY   ON    EPITAPHS.      235 

JoANNEsjacet  hie  Mirandula;  cxtera  norunt  j 
Et  Tagus,  et  Ganges ;  forlan  et  Antipodes. 

His  name,  then  celebrated  iir the  rcmoteft  corners 
of  the  earth,  is  now  almoft  forgotten  ;  and  hi.H 
works,  then-  lludied,  admired,  and  applauded, 
are  now  monldering  in  obfcurity. 

Next  in  dignity  to  the  bare  name  is  a  fhort 
charafler  fimple  and  unadorned,  without  exag- 
geration, fuperlatrves,  or  rhetoric.  Such  were 
the  infcriptions  in  ufe  among  the  R:mans^  iri 
which  tltc  viftories  gained  by  their  emperors 
were  commemorated  by  a-  fingle  epithet ;  as 
Caefar  Germanlcus^  Caefar  Dac'tcus,  GermanUus^ 
Iilyrkus.  Such  would  be  this  epitaph,  Tsaacus 
TsIevvtonus,  natures  le^lbm  invejligatis^  hie  qui-- 
cfdt. 

But  to  far  the  greateft  part  of  mankind  a 
longer  encomium  is  neceflury,  for  the  publica* 
tion  of  their  virtues,  and  the  preffervation  of  theif 
memories  ;  and  in  the  compofition  of  thefe  it  is 
that  art  is  principally  required>  and  precepts 
therefore  may  be  ufefuK 

In  writing  Epitaphs,  one  circumftance  Is 
to  beconfidered,  which  atfefts  no  other  compo- 
fition  ;  the  place,  in  which  they  are  now  com* 
monly  found,  reftrams  them  to  a  particular  air 
of  folemnitv,  and  debars  them  from  the  ad- 
miffion  of  all  lighter  or  gayer  ornaments.  lii 
this  it  is  that  the  ftyle  of  an  Epitaph  necef^ 
fexily  differs  from  that  of  an  Elegy.  .  Tlfe 

cuHoii^ 


Jill  'I 


ill 


Hk 


'  ill 


u 


234     ESSAY   ON   EPITAPHS. 

cuftom  of  burying  our  dead  cither  in  or  near 
our  churches,  perhaps  originally  founded  on  a 
r^ional  dcfign  of  fitting  the  mind  for  religious 
cxercifes,  by  la)ing  before  it  the  moil  affefting 
proof  of  the  uncertainty  of  life,  makes  it  pro- 
per to  exclude  from  our  Epitaphs  all  fuch 
allufions  as  arc  contrary  to  the  do£lrines  for 
the  propagation  of  which  the  churches  are  ere£lcd, 
and  to  the  end  for  which  thofe  who  perufe  the 
monuments  muft  be  fuppofcd  to  come  thither. 
Nothing  is,  therefore,  more  ridiculous  than  to 
copy  the  Roman  infcriptions,  which  were  en^- 
graven  on  ftones  by  the  highway,  and  compofed 
by  thofe  who  generally  refle6led  on  mortality 
only  to  excite  in  themfelves  and  others  a  quicker 
relilh  of  pleafure,  and  a  more  luxurious  enjoy- 
ment of  life,  and  whofe  regard  for  the  dead  ex- 
tended no  farther  than  a  wilh  that  the  tarth  might 
hi  light  upon  them. 

All  allufions  to  the  Heathen  Mythology  are 
therefore  abfurd,  and  ail  regard  for  the  fenfelef'^ 
remains  of  a  dead  man  impertinent  and  fupei- 
ftitious.  One  of  the  firft  diftinftions  of  the  pri- 
mitive Chriftians,  was  their  negleft  of  bellow- 
ing garlands  on  the  dead,  in  which  they  are 
very  rationally  defended  by  their  Apologift  in> 
Minutiui.  Felix  :  "  We  lavilh  no  flowers  nor 
•*  odours  on  the  dead,"  fays  he,  **  becaufe  they 
«*  have  no  fenfe  of  fragrance  or  of  beauty.'* 
We  profefs  to  reverence  the  dead,  not  fpr  their 

fake, 


ESSAY   oM   EPITAPHS.       235 

fake,  but  for  our  own.  It  is  therefore  always 
with  indignation  or  contempt  that  I  read  the 
epitaph  on  CowUy^  a  man,  whofe  learning  and 
poetry  were  his  lowcft  merits. 

Aurea  dum  late  volitant  tua  fcripta  per  orbem 
Et  fama  cternum  vivis,  divine  Poeta, 
Hie  placidajaceas  requie,  cudodiat  urnam 
Cana,  Fides,  vigilent  que  perenni  Lampade  Muiae! 
Sit  facer  ille  locus,  nee  quia  temerarius  aufit 
Sacriiega  turbare  manu  venerabile  builum, 
Iota£ti  maiiennt,  maneant  per  faecula  dukes. 
CowcEii  cincres,  ferventque  immobile  Saxum. 

To  prav  that  the  aflies  of  a  friend  may  He 
landifturbed,  and  that  tlie  Divinities  that  fa- 
voured him  in  his  life  may  watch  for  ever 
round  him  to  preferve  his  tomb  from  violation^ 
and  drive  facrilege  away,  is  only  rational  in  him 
who  believes  the  foul  interefted  in.  the  rcpofe 
©fthcbody^  and  the  powers  which  he  invoke* 
for  its  protection  able  to  preferve  it.  To  cen- 
fure  fuch  expreilions  as  contrary  to  religion,  or 
as  remains  of  Heathen  fuperftition,  would  be  too 
great  a  degree  of  feverity.  I  condemn  them  only 
as  uninilru^iv€  and  unafFe£king,  as  too  ludicrous 
for  reverence  or  grief,  for  Chriflianky  and  a 
temple. 

That  the  deligns  and  decorations  of  monu- 
ments ought  likewife  to  be  formed  with  the 
iame  regard  to  the  folemnity  of  the  placet  cannot 

'     be 


I 


i\ 


um  i 


ii 


I  * 
11 


1 


236     ESSAY  ON   EPITAPHS. 

be  denied  :  it  is  an  eftablilhed  principle,  that  all 
©rnaments  owe  their  beauty  to  their  propriety. 
The  fame  glitter  of  drefs  that  adds  graces  tO' 
gaiety  and  youth,  would  make  age  and  dignitjP 
contemptible.  Charon  with  his  boat  is  far  from 
heightening  the  awful  grandeur  of  the  univerfal 
judgement,  though  drawn  by  Angela  himfelf; 
jior  is  it  eafy  to  imagine  a  greater  abfurdlty  thaiv 
that  of  gracing  the  walls  of  a  Chrillian  temple 
with  the  figure  of  M^trs  leading  a  hero  to  battle, 
er  Cupids  fporting  round  a  virgin.  The  pope, 
who- defaced  the  f^atues  of  the  Deities  at  the 
tomb  of  Sannazarim,  is,  in  my  opinion,  more 
eafily  to  be  defended,  than,  he  that  ereaed 
them. 

It  is  for  the  fame  reafon  improper  to  addrefs 
the  Epitaph  to  the  pafTenger,  a  cuftom  which 
an  nijudicious  veneration  for  antiquity  intio* 
duced  again  at  the  revival' of  letters,  and  which, 
among  many  others,  Pajpratius  fuffered  to  mif- 
lead  him  in  his  Epitaph  upon  the  heart  of 
Henry  king  of  France,  who  was  flabbed  by 
Clement  the  monk,  which  yet  deferves  to  be  in^ 
ferted,  for  th&  fake  of  fhewing  how  beautiful  even 
improprieties  may  become  in  the  hands  of  a 
good  writer.  ,   . 

Adfla,  Viator,  et  dole  regum  vices-. 
Cor  Regis  ifto  conditur  fub  marmore, 
Qui  jura  GalHs,  jura  Sarmatis  dedit. 
Te6tus  Cucullo  hunc  fuftulit  Sicarius. 

Abi,  Viator,  et  dole  regum  vices*- 


ft       » 

ii 


ESSAY  ON   EPITAPHS.      43*^ 

In  the  Monkifli  ages,  however  ignorant  and 
ninpoliflied,    the    Epitaphs   were    drawn   up 
with  far  greater  propriety  than  can  be  fhewn  in 
thofe  which  naore  enlightened  times  have  pro- 
duced. ' 

XDrate  pro  Anima— ^-miferrimi  Peccatoris, 

was  an  addrefs  to  the  laft  degree  flriking  and  {o:» 
lemn,  as  it  flowed  naturally  from  the  religion 
then  believed,  and  awakened  in  the  reader  fenti- 
ments  of  benevolence  for  the  deceafed,  and  of 
concern  for  his  own  happinefs.  There  was  no- 
thing trifling  or  ludicrous,  nothing  that  did  not 
tend  to  the  nobleft  end,  the  propagation  of  piety, 
and  the  increafe  of  devotion. 

It  may  feem  very  fuperfluous  to  lay  it  down  a? 
the  flrfl:  rule  for  writing  Epitaphs,  that  the 
name  of  the  deceafed  is  not  to  be  omitted  ;  nor 
(hould  I  have  thought  fuch  a  precept  necefllary, 
had  not  the  practice  of  the  greateft:  writers  fhewn, 
that  it  has  not  been  fuflSciently  regarded.  In 
Hiofl:  of  the  poetical  Epitaphs,  the  names  <for 
whom  they  were  compofed  may  be  fought  to  no 
purpofe,  being  only  prefixed  on  the  monument. 
To  expofe  the  abfurdity  of  this  omiflion,  it  is 
only  neceflary  to  afk  how  the  Epitaphs,  which 
have  outlived  the  flones  on  which  they  were  in- 
fcribed,  would  have  contributed  to  the  inform- 
-     ••  ation 


Ull 


!       ,' 


I,  I 


::  ).,■ 


I 


t  i. 


238     ESSAY  ON    EPITAPHS. 

ation  of  poftcrity,  had  they  wanted  the  names 
of  thofe  whom  they  celebrated. 

In  drawing  the  charadler  of  the  deceafed, 
there  are  no  rules  to  be  obfcrved  which  do  not 
equally  rtlate  to  other  compofitions.  The  praifc 
ought  not  to  be  general,  becaufe  the  mind  is 
loft  in  the  extent  of  any  indefinite  idea,  and 
cannot  be  afFefted  with  what  it  cannot  compre- 
hend. When  we  hear  only  of  a  good  ur  great 
man,  we  know  not  in  what  clafs  to  place  him, 
nor  have  any  notion  of  his  charafter,  diftinft 
from  that  of  a  thoufand  others  ;  his  example  can 
have  no  efFed  upon  our  condu£V,  as  we  have 
nothing  remarkable  or  eminent  to  propofe  to 
our  imitation.  The  Epitaph,  compofed  by 
Ennius  for  his  own  tomb,  has  both  the  faults 
laft  mentioned, 

Nemo  me  decoret  lacrumis,  nee  funera,  fletu 
Faxit.  Cur  ?  volito  vivu*  per  ora  virum. 

The  reader  of  this  Epitaph  receives  fcarce 
any  idea  from  it ;  he  neither  conceives  any  ve- 
neration for  the  man  to  whom  it  belongs,  nor 
is  inftrufled  by  what  methods  this  boafted  re- 
putation is  to  be  obtained. 

Though  a  fepulchral  infcription  is  profefledly 
a  panegyric,  and,  therefore,  not  confined  to 
hiftorical  impartiality,  yet  it  ought  always  to  be 
written  with  regard  to  trvith.    No  man  ought 

to 


ESSAY   ON  EPITAPHS.      239 

to  be  commended  for  virtues  which  he  never 
poflefled  ;  but  whoever  is  curious  to  know  his 
faults,  muft  enquire  after  them  in  other  places  ; 
the  monuments  of  the  dead  are  not  intended  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  crimes,  but  to  exhibit 
patterns  of  virtue.  On  the  tomb  oi  MacenaSf 
his  luxury  is  not  to  be  mentioned  with  his  mu- 
nificence, nor  is  the  profcription  to  find  a  place 
on  the  monument  of  AuguJIus. 

The  beft  fubjeft  for  Epitaphs  is  private  vir* 
tue ;  virtue  exerted  in  the  fame  circumftances 
in  which  the  built  of  ipankind  are  placed,  and 
which,  therefore,  may  aduiit  of  many  imita- 
tors. He  that  has  delivered  his  country  from 
oppreflion,  or  freed  the  world  from  ignorance 
and  error,  can  excite  the  emulation  of  a  very 
fmall  number ;  but  he  that  has  repelled  the 
temptations  of  poverty,  and  difdained  to  free 
himfelf  from  diftrefs  at  the  expence  of  his  vir- 
tue, may  animate  multitudes,  by  his  example, 
to  the  fame  firmnefs  of  heart  and  fteadinefs  of 
refolution. 

Of  this  kind  I  cannot  forbear  the  mention  of 
two  Greek  infcriptions  ;  one  upon  a  man  whofe 
writings  are  well  known,  the  other  upon  a  per- 
fon  whofe  memory  is  preferved  only  in  her 
Epitaph,  who  both  lived  in  flavery,  the  moll 
calamitous  ellate  in  human  life. 


Ill    r. 
ir '  ,1 

ii.  J 


Zvffifun 


^4©      ESSAY  on    EPITAPHS. 

ZwcrifAn  *»  «e»»  twrn  fio»w  Tw  C^f^etn  JbX»», 

Zos  IMA,  qua  fob  fuit  olim  corporc  fc  r\  a, 
Corporc  nunc  etiam  libera  faaa  fuit. 

^«  ZosiMA,  who  in  her  life  could  only  liave  her 
'.         body   cnflaved,   now  finds  her   body  likcwilc 
fet  at  liberty." 

It  is  impoffible  to  read  this  Epitaph  witlioirt 
being  animated  to  bear  the  evils  of  life  with 
conftancy,  and  to  fupport  the  dignity  cf  human 
nature  under  the  moft  prelfint  affliaions,  both 
by  the  example  of  the  heroine,  whofe  grave  wc 
behold,  and  the  profpea  of  that  ftate  in  which, 
to  ufe  the  language  of  the  infpired  wnters, 
•'  The  poor  ceafe  from  their  labours,  and  Uw 

««  weary  be  at  reft."- _   , 

The  other  is  upon  Epi^etus,  the  Stoic  Ihi- 

lofopher. 

'      Servus  Epl^etus,  mutilatus  corporc  vixi, 

Pauperieque  Irus,  curaque  prima  Dcum. 

•  •«  EpU^etus,  who  lies  here,  was  a  Have   and  a 

cripple,  poor  as  the  beggar  in  the  proverb, 

•  '     and  the  favourite  of  Heaven." 

In  this  diflich  is  comprifed  the  nobleft  pa^ 
^cgyric,    and  the   moll  important  i««J^"^^^^^ 


ESSAY   ON   EPITAPHS.     241 

We  may  learn  from  it  that  virtue  is  imprafticable 
ill  no  condition,  iince  EpiSietus  could  recom- 
mend himfelf  to  the  regard  of  Heaven  amidil 
the  temptations  of  poverty  and  flavery  ;  (lavcry, 
which  has  always  been  found  fo  deflruftive  to 
virtue,  that,  in  many  languages,  a  Have  and  a 
thief  are  exprcfled  by  the  fame  word.  And  we 
may  be  likewife  admonifhed  by  it,  not  to  lay  any 
ftrefs  on  a  man's  outward  circumftanccs,  •  in 
making  an  ellimatc  of  his  real  value,  faice  Epic- 
tetus  the  beggar,  the  cripple,  and  the  flave,  was 
the  favourite  of  Heaven. 


PI 


Vbi.ir. 


M 


A  BIS- 


J    a42    ] 


ISSERTATION 


I 


I 


ON    THE 


EPITAPHS' written  by  POPE; 
Originally  printed  in  the  V  i  s  i  t  o  r. 


EVERY  art-  is  beft  taught  by  example. 
Nothing  contributes  more  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  propriety  than  remarks  on  the  worjcs  of 
thofe  who  have  moft  excelled.  I  Ihall  therefore 
endeavour  at  this  vifit  to  entertain  the  young 
fludents  in  poetry  with  an  examination  of  Pope  s 

Ealtaphs. 

To  define  an  epUaph  is  ufelefs ;  every  one 
knows  that  it  is  an  infcription  on  a  tomb.  An 
epitaph,  therefore,  implies  no  particular  cha- 
rafter  of  writing,  but  may  be  compofed  m 
verfe  or  pvofe.  It  is  indeed  commonly  pane- 
evrical,  becaufe  we  are  feldom  dift.ngtnlhed 
with  a  ftone  but  by  our  friends  ;  but  it  has  no 
rule  to  leftrain  or  modify  it,  except  this,  that  it 

•**  OUffllt 


EPITAPHS  OF  POPE.  243 
tJught  not  to  be  longer  than  common  beholders 
jliay  be  expected  to  have  leifure  and  patience  t© 
perufe. 

I. 

"On  Charles  Earl  «/ Dorset,  in  the  Church  if 
Wythyham  in  Suflex. 

Don  SET,    the  grace  of  courts,  the  Mufe*s 
pride, 
Patron  of  arts,  and  judge  of  nature,  dy'd  ; 
The  fcourge  of  pride,  tho*  fandify'd  or  great, 
Of  fops  in  learning,  and  of  knaves  in  flate  j 
Yet  foft  his  nature,  tho'  fevere  his  lay, 
His  anger  moral,  and  his  wifdom  gay. 
Bleft  fatyrift  !  who  touch'd  the  mean  io  thie. 
As  fliow*d,  vice  had  his  hate  and  pity  too. 
Bleft  courtier  !  who  could  king  and  country  pleafe^ 
Yet  facred  keep  hib  fricndfliipsj  nnd  his  eafe. 
Bleft  peer  !  his  great  forefathers  every  grace 
Refieding,  and  reflefted  on  his  race  ; 
Where  other  Buckhurfts,  other  Dorfets  fliincj 
And  patriots  ftiH,  or  poets,  deck  the  line. 

The  firft  diftich  of  this  epitaph  contains  a 
kind  of  information  which  few  would  want, 
that  the  man,  for  whom  the  tomb  was  erefted, 
died.  There  are  indeed  fome  qualities  worthy 
of  praife  afdribed  to  the  de&d,  but  none  tluit 
were  likely  to  exempt  him  from  the  lot  of  man-, 
or  incline  us  much  to  wonder  that  he  Jhould  die. 
What  is  meant  h^  judge  of  nature ^  is  not  cafy  to 
;        Ma      ,  fay. 


■If'- 

;  MM 


M 

I.';,  5 
It     « 


>A 


il 


:!U 


J44  DISSERTATION  ON  THE 
fcv  Mature  is  not  the  objeft  of  humaa  judge- 
Tent  for  it  is  vain  to  judge  where  wc  cannot  al- 
w  If  by  nature  is  meant,  what  is  commonly 
a  ied  '2.  by  the  critics,  a  juft  reprefcntafon 
of  things  really  exifting,  and  aa.ons  really  pcr- 
ilJ,  nature  cannot  be  P™perJ;  oppo fcd  o 
„rt,  nature  being,  in  this  fenfe,  only  the  belt 
efFeft  of  art. 

Of  this  couplet,  the  fccond  line  is  not,  what 
is  intended,  an  iUuftration  of  the  former.  P"^ 
i„  the  Great  is  indeed  vyell  enough  connefted 
with  knaves  in  ftate,  though  W«  is  a  word 
Tather  too  ludicrous  and  light ;  but  the  mention 
offa'ilifi"'  pride  will  not  lead  the  thoughts  to 
fjs  in  Uarnwg,  but  rather  to  fome  fpec.es  of  ty- 
ranny or  oppreffion,  fomething  more  gloomy 
and  more  formidable  than  foppery. 

This  is  a  high  compliment,  but  was  not  firft 
Jowed  on  !>./.<  by  f.^.  The  next  verfe  .s 
extremely  beautiful. 

Blejl  falyrift  >  — 

In  this  diftich  is  another  line  of  which  P^p* 
was  not  the  author.  I  do  not  mean  to  b latne 
thefe  imitations  with  much  harflinefs  ;  m  long 
performances  Uwy  are  fcarcely  to  be  avoided^ 


i 

Ml      *l 


E  P 1  T  A  r  H  S  o  P  P  O  P  E.        a45f 

and  in  lliorter  they-  may  be  indulged,  bccaule 
the  train  of  the  compofition  may  naturally  in- 
volve  them,  or  the  fcantinefs  of  the  fubje^l 
allow  little  choice.  However,  what  is  borrowed 
is  not  to  be  eiljoyed  as  our  own  ;  and  it  is  the 
bufinefs  of  critical  juftice  to  ^ive  every  bird  of 
the  Mufcs  his  proper  feather. 
Bhji  courtia  !  — 

Whether  a  courtier  can  properly  be  corn- 
mended  for  keeping  his  eafe  f acred ^  may,  per- 
haps, bedifp\]table.  To  pleafc  king  and  coun- 
try, without  facrificing  friendfhip  to  any  change 
of  times,  was  a  very  uncommon  inftance  of 
prudence  or  felicity,  and  defervcd  to  be  kept  fe- 
parate  from  fo  poor  a  commendation  as  care  of 
this  eafe.  I  wi(h  our  poets  would  attend  a  lit- 
tle more  accurately  to  the  ufe  of  the  vioiAfacred^ 
which  furely  fliould  never  be  applied,  in  a  ferious 
compofition,  but  where  fome  reference  may  be 
made  to  a  higher  Being,  or  where  fome  duty 
is  exafted  or  implied.  A  man  may  keep  his 
friendfhip /flcrr^,  becaufe  promifes  of  friendfhip 
are  very  aweful  ties ;  but  methinks  he  cannot, 
but  in  a  biirlefque  fenfe,  be  faid  to  keep  his  eafc 
/acred, 

Slejlpetr!-^ 

The  bleffing  afcribed  to  the  peer  has  no  con- 
neaioii  with  his  peerage ;  they  might  happen  to 

M  3  a^y 


;tt 


i 


246    DISSERTATION  on  the 
any  other  man,  whofe  anceftors  were  rcmcm.- 
>>ered,   or  whofe  poftcrity  were  likely  to  be  re- 
garded. 

I  know  not  whether  this  epitaph  be  worthy 
cither  of  the  writer,  or  of  the  man  entombed. 

On  Sir  William  Trumbal,  one  of  the  Pr'in^ 
cipal  Secretaries  of  State  to  ^/V;^  William  IIU 
who,  having  refigned  his  place,  died  in  his  Rt-^ 
/;r^»2^«/ fl/ Eafthamfted  /'«  Berkfliire,  1716. 

A  pleafing  form,  a  firm,  yet  cautious  mind, 
Sincere,  iho*  prudent ;  conftant,  yet  refign'dj 
•Honour  unchang'd,   a  principle  profeft, 
iMx'd  to  one  ilde,  but  moderate  to  the  reft  : 
An  hone  ft  courtier^  yet  a  patriot  too, 
juit  to  his  prince,  and  to  his  country  true; 
.  liil'd  with  theienle  of  age,   the  fire  of  youth, 
A  fcorn  of  wrangling,  yet  a  zeal  for  truth  j 
A  generous  faith,  from  fuperftition  free  ; 
'A  love  to  peace,  and  hate  of  tyranny. 
Such  this  man  was ;    who  now,    from   earth  re- 

mov'd. 
At  length  enjoys  that  liberty  he  lov*d. 

In  this  epitaph,  as  in  many  others,  there  ap- 
pears, at  the  firft  view,  a  fault  which  I  think 
fcarcely  any  beauty  can  compenfate.  The  name 
is  omitted.  The  end  of  an  epitaph  is  to  convey 
fome  account  of  the  dead;  and  to  what  pur pofe 
is  any  thing  told  of  him  whofe  name  is  con- 
cealed I 


EPITAPHS  OP  POPE.         247 

ccaled  ?  An  epitaph,  and  a  hiftory,  of  a  name- 
lefs  hero,  are  equally  abfurd,  fince  the  virtues 
and  qualities,  fo  recounted  in  either,  are  fcattered 
at  the  mercy  of  fortune,  to  be  appropriated  by 
guefs.  The  name,  it  is  true,  may  be  read  upon 
the  ftone  ;  but  what  obligation  has  it  to  the 
poet,  whole  verfes  wander  over  the  earth,  and 
leave  their  fubje^l  behind  them,  and  who  is 
forced,,  hke  an  unlkilful  painter,  to  make  his 
purpofe  known  by  adventitious  help  ? 

This  epitaph  is  wholly  without  elevation, 
and  contains  nothing  ftrikingor  particular,;,  but 
the  poet  is  not  to  be  blamed  for  the  defers  of 
his  fubjeft.  He  faid  perhaps  the  beft  that  could 
be  faid.  There  are,  however,  fome  defe£ls 
which  were  not  made  neceflary  by  the  charafter 
in  which  he  was  employed.  There  is  no  oppo- 
lition  between  an  homft  courtiev  and  a  pJtrh/, 
for   an  hcn^ft  courtier  cannot  but  be  a  patriot. 

It  was  unfuitahle  to  the  nicety  required  in 
fhort  compofitions  to  clofe  his  verfe  with  the 
word  too ;  every  rhyme  fhould  be  a  word  of  em- 
phaiis ;  nor  can  this  rule  be  fafely  neglefted, 
except  where  the  length  of  the  poem  makes 
flight  inaccuracies  excufable,  or  allows  room  for 
beauties  fufficient  to  over-power  the  efFc£ls  of 
petty  faults. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  feventh  line  the 
^ox& filled  is  weak  and  profaic,  having  no  par- 

M  4  ticular 


^.i 


^4?      DISSERTATION  om   the 

ticvilar    aUaptatioti  to   any   of  the   words   that 
ibilow  it. 

The  thought  in  the  laft  line  is  impertinent, 
having  no  connexion  with  the  foregoing  cha- 
fa£ter,  nor  with  the  condition  of  the  man  6e» 
fcribed.  Had  the  epitaph  been  written  on  the 
poor  confpirator  *  who  died  lately  in  prifon  af- 
ter a  confinement  of  more  than  forty  years,  with- 
out ari^y  crime  proved  againft  him,  the  fenti- 
iiiciit  had  been  }uft  and  pathctical  ;  but  why 
fliould  Trurf'bal  be  congratulated  upon  his  li- 
berty, who  had  never  known  reftraint  \ 

HI. 
Qn  the  Hc»,  Simon  Harcourt,  only  Son  of  thi 
Lord  Chancellor  Harcourt,    at  tht  Church  of 
Stanton-Harcouit  in  Oxfordfhire,   1720. 

To  this  f?d  flirine,  whoe'er  thou  art,  draw  near, 
Here  lies  the  friend  moll  lovM,  the  fon  moft  dear  ; ' 
Who  oe'er  knew  joy,  but  friendfliip  might  divide, 
Or  gave  his  father  grief  but  when  he  dy'd. 

How  vain  is  reafon  !  eloquence  bow  weak  ! 
li  Pope  muft  tell  what  i^nrcowr/ cannot  fpeak. 
Oh,  let  thy  once-lov*d  friend  infcribe  thy  ftone, 
And,  with  a  father's  forrows,  mix  his  own. 

This  epitaph  is  principally  remarl<able  for  the 
artful  introdudtion  of  the  name,  which  is  in- 

*  Major  Bernardii     Sec  Gent.  Mag^-  vol.  VI. 

p,  5J3i  vol.L.  p.  125. 

ferted 


EPITAPHS  OF  POPE.        249 

fcrtcd  with  a  peculiar  felicity »  to  which  chance 
muft  concur  with  genius,  which  no  man  can 
hope  to  attain  twice,  and  which  cannot  be  co- 
pied but  with  fervile  imitation. 

1  cannot  hut  wi(h  that,  of  this  infcriptlon, 
the  two  laft  lines  had  been  oiriitted,  as  they 
lake  a'vay  from  the  energy  what  they  do  not  add 
to  the  fenfc. 


M 


IV. 

On    James    Craggs,     £/q; 
In  Weftminflcr- Abbey 

JACOBUS  CRAGGS 

REGI   MAGNAE   BUITANNIAE  A  SECRETI9 
ET    CONSILllS    SANCTIORIBUS, 
PRINCIPIS      PARITER      AC      POPULI     AMOR     ET 

DELICIAE : 
VIXIT     TITULIS     ET    INVIDIA    MAJOR, 
ANN03     HEU     PAUCOS    XXXV. 
OB.    FEB.    XVI.    MDCCXX. 

Statefman,  yet  friend  to  truth  '  of  foul  fincere. 
In  action  faithful,  and  in  honour  clear ! 
Who  broke  no  promife,  ferv'd  no  private  end, 
Who  gain'd  no  title,  and  who  loft  no  friend, 
Ennobled  by  himfclf,   by  all  approv'd, 
Prais'd,  wept,  and  honour'd,  by  the  Mufe  he  lov'd. 

The  lines  on  Craggs  were  not  originally  in- 
tended for  an  epitaph,  and  therefore  fome  fauhs 

M  5  arc 


250     DISSERTATION  on  the 

arc- to  be  imputed  to  the  violence  with  which 
ehcy  are  torn  from  the  poem  that  firft  contained 
^em.  We  may,  however,  obferve  fome  de- 
feats. There  is  a  redundancy  of  words  in  the 
firft  couplet ;  it  is  fuperfluous  to  tell  of  him, 
who  was  ftncere,  true,  ?Lnd  faithful,  that  he  was 
in  honour  clear. 

There  feems  to  be  an  oppofition  intended  in- 
the  fourth  liiie>  which  is  not  very  obvious  r 
where  is  the  wonder,  that  he  gained  no  title,  and 
loft  no  friend,. 

It  may  be  proper  here  to  remark  the  abfur- 
dity  of  joining,  in  the  fame  infcription,  Latin 
and  Englijh,  or  verfe  and  profe.  If  either  lan- 
guage be  preferable  to  the  other,  let  that  only  be- 
ufed }  for  no  reafon  can  be  given  why  part  of 
the  rnformation  Ihould  be  given  in  one  tongue, 
and  part  in  another,  on  a  tomb  more  than  in 
any  oth«r  place,  or  any  other  occalion  ;  and  to 
tell  all  that  can  be  conveniently  told  in  verfe, 
and  then  to  call-in  the  help  of  prole,  has  always 
the  appearance  of  a  very  artlefs  expedient,  or  of 
an  attempt  unaccomplifhed.  Such  an  epitaph' 
refembles  the  converfation  of  a  foreigner,  who 
tells  part  of  his  meaning  by  words,  and  con- 
veys part  by  iigns.  ' 


EPITAPHS  OF  POPE.  2S« 

V. 

Intended  fir  M-.  RowE. 
In  Weftminfter-Abbey. 

Thy  reliques,  Rowe^  to  this  fair  urn  we  trull:. 
And,  facred,  place  by  Dryden*s  awful  duil : 
Beneath  a  rude  and  namelefs  ftone  he  lies, 
To  which  thy  tomb  fliall  guide  enquiring  eyes. 
Peace  to  thy  gentle  fliade,  and  endlefs  reft  i 
Bleft  in  thy  genius,  in  thy  love  too  blefl  I' 
One  grateful  woman  to  thy  fame  fupplies     . 
What  a  whole  thanklefs  land  to  liis  denies^ 

Of  this  infcription*  the  chief  fault  is,  that  it 
belongs  lefs  to  Rwe,  for  whon  it  was  written, 
than  to  Dryden,  who  was  buried  near  him  ;  and' 
indeed  gives  very  little  information  concerning; 

either^ 

.  The  wifh,  peace  to  thy  jhnde,  is  too  mythologi- 
cal to  be  admitted  into  a  Chriftian  temple  ;  the 
ancient  worftiip  has  infefted  almoft  all  our  othe 
compofitions,  and  might  therefore  be  contented' 
to  fpare  our  epitaphs.  Let  fidtion,  at  lead,  ceafe 
with  life  ;  and  let  us  be  ferious  over  the  g^rave. 

VL 

On  Mrs.  Corbet; 
who  died  of  a  Cancer  in  hir  Breaft, 

Here  refts  a  vvoman,  good  without  pretence^. 
Bleft  with  plain  reafon,  and  with  fober  fenfe; 
No  conquefts  (he,  but  o'er  herlelf  defir*d,, 
Noarts  eflay'd,  but  not  to  be  adniir'd,. 


I 


!2^2    DISSERTATION  on  the 

Paflion  and  pride  were  to  her  foul  iinknowu, 
Convinc*d  that  virtue  only  is  our  own. 
So  unaffeded,  fo  composed  a  mind, 
So  firm,  yet  foft,  fo  Ihong,  yet  fo  refinM, 
Heaven  as  its  pureft  gold,  by  tortures  tryM  ; 
The  faint  fuftain'd  it,  but  the  woman  dy*d. 

1  have  always  confidcred  this  as  the  moft  va- 
luable of  all  Pcpe's  epitaphs  :  the  fubjeft  of.it  is 
a  chara(5ler  not  difcriminated  by  any  Ihining  or 
eminent    peculiarities  ;    yet   that   which    really 
makes,  though  not  the  fplendor,  the  felicity  of 
life,  and  that  which  every  wife  man  will  chufe 
for  his  final  and  lafting  companion  in  the  lan- 
guor of  age,  in  the  quiet  of  privacy,  when  he 
departs  weary  and  difgufted  from  the  oftentati- 
ous,  the  volatile,,  and  the  vain.     Of  fuch  a  cha* 
ra<5):er,  which  the  dull  overlook,   and  the  gay 
defpife,  it  was  fit  that  the  value  (hould  be  made 
known,  and  the  dignity  eftablifhed.     Domeflic 
virtue,  as  it  is  exerted  without  great  occafions, 
or  confpicuous  confequences,    in  an  even  un- 
noted tenor,  required  the  genius  of  Pope  to  dif- 
play  it  in  fuch  a  manner  as  might  attrad  re- 
gard, and  enforce  reverence.     Who  can  forbear 
to  lament  that  this  amiable  woman  has  no  name 
in  the  verfes  ? 

If  the  particular  lines  of  this  infcription  be 
examined,  it  will  appear  lefs  faulty  than  the  reft. 
There  is  fcarce  one  line  taken  from  common 
places,  unlefs  it  be  that  in  which  otily  'virtue  is* 

faid 


EPITAPHS  OF   POPE.      253 

fald  to  be  our  own.  1  once  heard  a  lady  of  great 
beauty  aiul  elegance  ol)j.£l  to  the  fourth  line, 
that  it  contained  an  unnatural  and  incredible 
pancgyrick..     Of  this  let  the  ladies  judge 


VI 


Im 


On  the  Monument  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Dig  by 
and  of  his  Sifter  Mary,  itemed  by  their  Father 
tha  Lord  Digky,  in  the  Church  of  Sherborne  in 
Dorfclfhire,  I'^i']* 

Go!  fair  cxnmpl<e  of  untainted  youth. 
Of  modeft  vvifdom,  and  pacifick  truth  : 
CcniposM  in  fufferings,  and  in  joy  ferJate, 
Good  without  noifc,  without  pretenfion  great, 
Juft  of  thy  wed,  in  every  thought  fincerc, 
Who  knew  no  wifli  but  what  the  world  might  hear  ; 
Of  foftefl  manners,  unaffected  mind, 
Lover  of  peace,  nnd  friend  of  human-kind: 
Go,  live  !  for  Heaven*9etern:il  year  is  thine, 
Go,  und  exalt  thy  mortal  to  divine. 

And  thou,  bleft  maid  !   attendant  on  his  doom, 
Penfive  haft  follow'd  to  the  filent  tomb, 
SteerM  the  fame  courfc  to  the  fame  quiet  fliore^ 
Not  parted  long,  and  now  to  part  no  more  ! 
Go,  then,  where  only  blifs  fincere  is  known  I 
Go,  where  to  love  and  to  enjoy  are  one  ! 

Yet  take  thefe  tears,  mortality's  relief; 
And  till  we  lliare  your  joys,  forgive  our  grief: 
Thefe  little  rites,  a  i>one,  a  ver(e  receive, 
'Tis  all  a  father,  all  a  friend  can  give. 

This 


^S4      i:)ISSERTATION  on  the. 

This  epitaph  contaihs  of  the  brother  only  x 
general  indifcriminate  charadter,  and  of  the  lif- 
ter tells  nothing  but  that  Ihe  died.     The  diffi- 
culty in  writing  epitaphs  is  to  give  a  particular 
and  appropriate  praife.     This,  however,  is  not 
always  to  be  performed,  whatever  be  the  diH- 
gence  or  ability  of  the  writer ;   for  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  have  no  chara^er  at  ally  have  lit- 
tle that  diftinguilhes  them  from  others  equally 
good  or  bad,  and  therefore  nothing  can  be  faid 
of  them  which  may  not  be  applied  with  equal 
propriety  to  a  thoufand  more,     it  is  indeed  no- 
great  panegyrick,  that  there  is  inclofed  in  this- 
tomb  one  who  was  born  in  one  year,  and  died 
in  another  ;  yet  many  ufeful  and  amiable  lives 
have  been  fpent,  which  yet  leave  little  materials 
for  any  other  memorial.    Thefe  are  however  not 
the  proper  fubje£ts  of  poetry  ;   and  whenever 
fricndfliip,  or  any  other  motive,  obliges  a  popt. 
to  write  oh  fuch  fubjefts,  he  muft  be  forgiven 
if  he  fometimes  wanders   in  generalities,    and 
utters  the  fame  praifes  over  different  tombs.    - 

The  fcantinefs  of  human  praifes  can  fcarcely 
be  made  more  apparent  than  by  remarking  how 
often  ?opt  has,  i-n  the  few  epitaphs  which  he 
compofed,  found  it  neceflary  to  borrow  from 
himfelf.  The  fourteen  epitaphs  whieh  he  has 
written  comprife  about  an  hundred  and  forty 
lines,  in  which  there  are  more  repetitions  than 
will  eafily  be  found  in  all  the  reft  of  his  works. 
In  the  eip^ht  lines  which  make  the  chs^rs'fter  of 

5  Digb,. 


EPITAPHS   OF    POPE.     25^ 

D'tgb^,  there  is  fcarce  any  thought,   or  wordy 
which  may  not  be  found  in  the  other  epitaphs. 

The  ninth  line,  which  is  far  the  ftrongeft  and? 
moft  elegant,  is  borrowed  from  Drydcn.  The' 
conclufion  is  the  fame  with  that  on  Harcourt, 
but  is  here  more  elegant  and  better  conneaedr- 

VIII. 
On  Sir  Godfrey    Kneller^ 
/«  Weftminfter-Abbey.  1723. 
Kneller,  by  heaven,  and  not  a  mafler,  taught, 
Whofe  art  was  nature/ and  whofe  piaures  thought^. 
Now  for  two  ages,  having  fnatch'd  from  fate 
Whate'er  was  beauteous,  or  whatever  was  great. 
Lies  crownM  with  princes  honours,  poets  lays, 
Due  to  his  merit,  and  brave  thirft  of  praife. 

Living,  great  Nature  feared,  he  might  outvie 
Her  works;  and,  dying,  fears  herfelf  may  die. 

Of  this  epitaph  the  firft  couplet  is  good,  the. 
fecond  not  bad  ;  the  third  is  deformed  with  a 
broken  metaphor,  the  word  crowned  not  being, 
applicable  to  the  honours  or  the  lays ;  and  the 
fourth  is  entirely  borrowed  from  the  epitaph  m. 
Raphael,  but  of  very  harfh  conftruaion. 

IX. 
On  General   Henry  Withers^ 

•  In   Weflminfter  Abbey,   1729. 
Here,  Withers,  reft!    thou    braveft,   gentlelt 
mind, 
Thy  country's  friend,  but  more  of  human-kind  ; 


: 


256      DISSERTATION  on  the 

-  O!  born  to  arms !   O  !  vvortli  in  youth  approv'd  I 
O  !   ibft  humanity,  in  age  bcIovM  ! 
For  thee  the  hardy  veteran  drops  a  tenr, 
And  the  gay  courtier  feels  the  figh  fincere. 

Withers,  adieu  !  yet  not  with  thee  remove 
Thy  martial  fpirit,  or  thy  Ibcial  love  ! 
Amidil  corru[)tion,  luxury,    and  rage, 
Still  leave  fome  ancient  virtues  to  our  age  : 
Nor  let  us  lay  (thofe  English  glories  gone) 
The  hid  true  Briton  lies  beneath  this  ftone* 

The  epitaph  oil  IFithets  affords  another  in- 
flaiice  of  common-places,  though  fomewhat 
diveilified  by  mingled  qualities,  and  the  pecu- 
liarity of  a  profeiTion. 

The  fecond  couplet  is  abrupt,  general,  and 
tanpleaiing  ;  exclamation  feldom  fucceeds  in  our 
language  ;  and  I  think  it  inay  be  obferved,  that 
the  particle  O,  ufed  at  the  beginning  of  a  hn^ 
tence,  always  offends. 

The  third  couplet  is  more  happy  ;  the  value 
expreffed  for  him,  by  different  forts  of  men, 
raifes  him  to  efleem  ;  there  is  yet  fomething  of 
the  common  cant  of  fuperficial  fatyrifts,  who 
fuppofetliar  the  in(incerity  of  a  courtier  deflroys 
all  his  fenfations,  and  that  he  is  equally  a  dif- 
fernbler  to  the  living  and  the  dead. 

At  the  third  couplet  1  (hould  wi(h  the  epi- 
taph to  clofe,  but  that  1  fliould  be  unwilling  to 
lofe  the  two  next  lines,  which  yet  are  dearly 
bought  if  they  cannot  be  retained  without  the 
four  that  follow  them, 

6  X.  On 


lEPITAPHS   OF  POPE.        257 

X. 

'      On  Mr,  Elijah  FentoN, 
jft  Eafthamfted /«  Berkfliirc,   1730* 

This  modcft  ftone,  what  few  vain  marbles  can, 
May  truly  fay.  Here  lies  an  honeft  man  : 
A  poet  bleft  beyond  a  poet's  fate. 
Whom  Heaven   kept   facred  from  the  Proud  and 

Great ; 
Foe  to  loud  praife,  and  friend  to  learned  eafe," 
Content  with  fcience  in  the  vale  of  peace. 
Calmly  he  look'd  on  eidier  life,  and  here  < 
Saw  nothing  to  regret,  or  there  to  fear; 
From  Nature's  temper.Ue  feaft  rofe  fatisfy'd, 
Thank'd  Heaven  that  he  had  liv*d,  and  that  he  dyM, 

The  firft  couplet  of  this  epitaph  is  borrowed 
from  Crafhaw.  The  four  next  lines  conts(iii  a 
Ipecies-  of  praife  peculiar,  original,  and  juft. 
Here,  therefore,  the  infcriplion  ihould  have 
ended,  the  latter  part  containing  nothing  but 
what  is  common  to  every  man  who  is  wife  and 
good.  The  character  of  Fenton  was  fo  amiable, 
that  I  cannot  forbear  to  wifh  for  fome  poet  or 
biographer  to  difplay  it  more  fully  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  pollerity.  If  he  did  not  Hand  in  the 
firft  rank  of  genius,  he  may  claim  a  place  in 
the  fecond  ;  and,  whatever  Criticifm  may  objea 
to  his  writings,  Cenfure  could  find  very  little  to 
blame  in  his  life. 


XI. 


-r  ti 


ti 


iS^>      DISSERTATION  on  tut, 


XL 
On  Afr.G AY.     /«  Weftminfter-Abbey,  ij^^^ 

Of  manners  gentle,  of  affeaions  mild  j 
In  tvit,  a  man;  fimplicity,  a  child  j 
A\  i»h  native  humour  tempering  virtuous  rage,. 
Form'd  to  delight  at  once  and  ialli  the  age  :  i 

Above  temptation  in  a  low  eftate, 
And  uncorrupted,  ev*n  among  the  Great ; 
A  fafe  companion,  and  an  eafy  friend, 
UnblamM  through  life,  lamented  in  thy  end, 
Thefe  are  thy  honours  I  not  that  here  thy  buff 
Is  mix'd  with  heroes,  or  with  kings  thy  duft ; 
But  that  the  Worthy  and  the  Good  fhall  fay, 
iStriking  their  penfive  bofoms — Here  lies  Gat. 

As  Gay  was  the  favourite  of  our  author,  this 
epitaph  was  probably  written  with  an  uncom- 
mon degree  of  attention  ;  yet  it  is  not  more  fuc- 
cefsfuliy  executed  than  the  reft  ;  for  it  will  not 
always  happen  that  the  fuccefs  of  a  poet  is 
proportionate  to  his  labour.  The  fame  abferva- 
tion  may  be  extended  to  all  works  of  imagina- 
tion which  are  often  influenced  by  caufes  wholly 
out  of  the  performer's  power,  by  hints  of  which 
he  perceives  not  the  ..rigiii,  by  fudden  eleva- 
tions of  mind  which  he  cannot  produce  in  him- 
felf,  and  which  fometimes  rife  when  he  expedls- 
theiii  ksLik^ 

The: 


EPITAPHS   OF  POPE        ^^ga 

The  two  parts  of  tlie  firft  line  are  only  echoes 
of  each  other  ;  ggnt/e  manners  aad  mild  affeSiionij. 
if  they  mean  any  thing,  muft  mean  the  fame., 
.  That  Gay  was  a  man  in  wit  is  a  very  frigid 
commendation  ;  to  have  the  wit  of  a  man  is  not 
much  for  a  Poet.  The  wit  of  many  and  xhtjim^ 
plicityof  a  child,  make  a  poor  and  vulgar  contrail, 
and  raife  no  ideas  of  excellence,,  either  intellec- 
tual or  moral. 

In  the  next  couplet  rage  is  lefs  properly  in- 
troduced after  the  mention  o{  mildnefs  and^«?«- 
ilenefs^  which  are  made  the  conftituents  of  his 
chara^er  ;  for  a  man  fo  mild  and  gentls  to  temper 
his.  rage,  was  not  difficult. 

The  next  line  is  unharmonious  in  its  founds 
and  mean  in  its  conception  ;  the  oppolition  isfc 
obvious  ;  and  the  word  lajh,  ufed  abfolutely,  and 
without  any  modification,  is  grofs  and  improper. 

To  be  above  temptation  in  poverty,  and  free 
from  corruption  among  the  Greats  is  indeed  fuch 
a  peculiarity  as  deferved  notice.  But  to  be  a 
fofe  companion  is  praifd  merely  negative,  ariiing 
not  from  the  pofleffion  of  virtue,  but  the 
abfence  of  vice,  and  that  one  of  the  raoft 
odious..  •  - 

As  little  can  be  added  to  liis  character,  by 
aflerting  that  he  was  lamentei  in  his  end.  Every 
man  that  dies  is,  at  leaft  by  tlie  writer  of  his 
epitaph,  fuppofed  to  be  lamented,  and  there- 
fore this  general  lamentation  does  no  honour 

to   Gay.. 

The; 


46o      DISSERTaTTON  on  the 

The  eight  fir  ft  lines  have  no  grammar,  the 
adjc(^ives  are  without  any  fubftantivc,  and  the 
epithets  without  a  fubjcft. 

The  thor?'^^  in  the  laft  line,  that  Gay  is 
buried  in  t'l;.  Loioms  of  the  worthy  and  tlie 
goitly  wJ}o  are  diftinguiflied  only  to  lengthen 
the  line,  is  fo  dark  that  few  nnderftand  it;  and 
fo  harfli  when  it  is  explained,  that  ilill  fewer 
approve. 

XIT. 

Inttndcifor  Sir  Is  a  Ac  Newton, 

In  Weftminfter- Abbey. 

laAACUS    NEWTONIUS: 

,  Q^^em  Irr.mortalem 

Teflantur  Timpus,  Natura,  Calum: 

Mortalem 

Hoc  marmor  fatetnr. 

Nature,  and  Nature's  laws,  lay  hid  in  night : 
GOD  faid,  Let  Newton  be  !   And  all  was  light. 

Of  this  epitaph,  fhort  as  it  is,  the  faults 
feem  not  to  be  very  few.  Why  part  fhould  be 
Latin  and  part  Ettgl'ijh^  it  rs  not  eafy  to  difcover. 
In  the  l,atin,  the  opposition  of  immartahs  and 
moytalis  is  a  mere  found,  or  a  mere  quibble  ;  he 
is  not  immoital  in  any  fenfe  contrary  to  that  in 
which  he  is  mottal,  . 

In  the  verfcs  the  thought  is  obvi'ous,  and 
the  words  night  and  light  ate  too  nearly  allied. 

XIII. 


EPITAPHS  OF  POPE.        261 


XIII. 

On  Edmund  Duh  0/ Buckingham,  who  died  in 
the  i^th  Tear  oj  his  Age^  I73S« 

If  modeft  youth,  with  cool  rcfle6lion  crown'd, 
And  every  opening  virtue  blooming  round, 
Pould  fave  a  parent's  jnfteft  pride  from  fate, 
Or  add  orie  patriot  to  a  finking  ftate  ; 
This  weeping  marble  had  not  a&'d  thy  tear. 
Or  fadly  told,  how  many  hopes  lie  here  : 
The  living  virtue  now  had  flione  approv'd, 
The  fenate  heard  him,  and  his  country  lov'd. 
Yet  foftcr  honours,  and  lefs  noify  fame, 
Attend  thefliade  of  gentle  Buckingham  : 
In  whom  a  race,  for  courage  fam*d  and  art, 
Ends  in  the  milder  merit  of  the  heart  ; 
And,  chiefs  or  fages  long  to  Britain  given. 
Pays  the  laH  tribute  of  a  faint  to  heaven. 

This  epitaph  Mr.  IVarburion  prefers  to  the 
reft,  but  I  know  not  for  what  reafon.  To 
crown  with  reJi:Siion  is  furely  a  mode  of  fpeech 
approaching  to  nonfenfe.  Opening  virtue  blooms 
ing  round,  fomething  like  tautology  ;  the  fix 
following  lines  are  poor  and  profaic.  Jrt  is 
another  couplet  ufed  for  arts,  that  a  rhyme  may 
be  had  to  h  art.  The  fix  laft  lines  are  the  beft, 
but  not    Acellent. 

The  reft  of  his  fepulchral  performances 
\iardly  deferve  the  notice  of  criticifm.  The 
'  con- 


iC6a       DISSERTATION,  &:c. 

contemptible  Diabgut  between  He   and    She 
Hiould  have  been  fuppVefled  for  the  author's  fake. 
In  his  laft  epitaph  on  himfelf,  in  which  he 
attempts  to  be  jocular   upon  one  of  the   few 
things  that  make  wife  men  ferious,  he  con- 
founds the  living  man  with  the  dead  : 
•'  Under  this  ftonc,  or  under  this  fill, 
**  Or  under  ihiB  turf,  &c." 
When  a  man  is  once  buried,  the  qucfliort 
under  what  he  is  buried  is  eafily  decided.    He 
forgot  that  though  he  wrote  the  epitaph  in  a  flatc 
of  uncertainty,  yet  it  could  not  be  laid  over  him 
till  his  grave  was  made.     Such  is  the  folly  of  wit 
when  it  is  ill  employed. 

The   world  has   but   little   new  ;  even  this 
wretchednefs  feems  to  have  been  borrowed  from 
the  following  tunelefs  lines  : 
Ludovici  Areofti  humanturoflTa 
Sub  hoc  marmore,  vel  fub  hac  humo,  feu 
Sub  quicquid  voluit  benignus  haeres 
Sive  hseredc  benignior  comes,  feu 
Opportunius  incidens  Viator ; 
Nani  fcire  baud  potuit  futura,  fed  nee 
Tantierat  vacuum  fibi  cadaver 
Ut  utnam  cuperet  parare  vivtns,       . 
Vivcns  ifta  tamen  fibi  paravit. 
Qu*  infcribi  voluit  fuo  fepulchro 
Olim  liquod  haberetis  fepulchrum. 
Surely  Ariofto  did  not  venture  to  expe*^  that 
his  trifle  w©uld  have  ever  had  fuch  an  illuftrious 
imitator*  ^ 


T    «63    ] 


THE 


BRAVERY 


OF    THE 


Englifh  Common  Soldiers, 


BY  thofe  who  have  compared  the  mih'tary 
genius  of  the  Englljh  with  that  of  the 
French  nation,  it  is  remarked,  that  the  French 
officers  will  alwayt  lead,  if  the  foldiers  wHlfollou,  ; 
and  that  the  Etiglijh  foldien  will  always  follow ^  if 
their  officers  will  lead. 

In  all  pointed  fentences,  fome  degree  of  ac- 
curacy muft  be  facrificed  to  concifenefs  ;  and, 
in  this  comparifon,  our  officers  feem  to  lofe 
what  our  foldiers  gain.  1  know  not  any  reafdn 
for  fuppofing  that  the  Englijh  officers  are  lefs 
willing  than  the  French  to  lead;  but  it  is,  I 
think,  univerfally  allowed,  that  the  Englijl)  fol- 
diers  are  more  willing  to  follow.  Our  nation 
may  boaft,  beyond  any  other  people  in  the 
world,  of  a  kind  of  epidemick  bravery,  diffufed 

equally 


a64         The  Bravery  of  the 

equally  throT^gh  all  its  ra,>ks.  We  can  (hew  a 
pialaiury  of  bc.oes,  and  m  our  armies  w.th 
clowns,  whofe  courage  may  ve  with  that  of  thc.r 

^"•rlwe  may  be  fom*  ?'==''""'■=  '"  ""^'"S  '^'^ 
caufcs  of  this  plebeian  mngnanimity.     1  he  qua- 
lities  which  commonly  make  an  army  fotm.da- 
ble,  are  long  habits  of  regalarity,   great  exaft- 
„efs  of  difcipline,  and  great  confidence  in  the 
commander.     Regularity  may,  in  tiine,  produce 
a  kind  of  mechanical  obedience  to  fignals  and 
commands,  like  that  which  the  perverfe  Car/.- 
fyn,  impute  to  animals  :  difciphne  may  unptcfs 
fuch  an  awe  upon  the  mind,   that  any  danger 
fliall  be  lefs  dreaded  than  the  danger  of  punilh- 
nient  •  and  confidence  in  the  wifdom  or  fortune 
o}  the'^'neral  may  induce  the  foldiers  to  follow 
him  blindly  to  the  moft  dangerous  enterpnze. 

What  may  be  done  by  difciphne  and  regula- 
ritv  may  be  ften  in  the  troops  of  the  RxJJmn 
«Lefs  and  Fruff.n  monarch.  We  find  that 
S  Sy  be  brokin  without  coufufion,  and  re- 
pulfed  without  flight.  <•  ,   r  „ 

But  the  EngUA  ^'°°V^  '^^^'^  "°"^  °^  , 
J&tcs  in  any  eminent  degree.  Regularity  ,s 
Sno  means  part  of  their  charaaer  :  they  a  e 
rZrelv  exercifcd,  and  therefore  fhew  very  little 
dexterity  in  their  evolutions  as  bodies  of  men, 
or  inthe  manual  ufe  of  their  weapons  as  indivi- 
duals ;  they  neither  are  thought  by  others,  nor 


Enoliih  Common  Soldiers.  26c 
by  thcmfelves,  more  aaive  or  exaft  than  their 
enemies,  and  therefore  derive  none  of  their 
courage  from  fuch  imaginary  fuperiority. 

The  manner  in  which  they  are  difpcrfcd  in 
quarters  over  the  country  during  times  of  peace, 
naturally  produces  laxity  of  difciplinc;  they  are 
very  little  in  fight  of  their  officers ;  and,  when 
they  are  not  engaged  in  the  flight  duty  of  the 
guard,  are  fufFered  to  live  every  man  his  own 
way. 

The  equality  oi  Englljh  privileges,  the  Impar- 
tlahty  of  our  laws,   the  freedom  of  our  tenures, 
and  the  profperity  of  our  trade,  difpofe  us  very 
little  to  reverence  of  fupcriors.      It  is  not  to 
any  great  efteem  of  the  officers  that  the  Engli/h 
foldicr  is  indebted  for  his  fpirit  in  the  hour  of 
battle ;    for  perhaps   it  does  not  often  happen 
that  he  thinks  much  better  of  his  leader  than  of 
himfelf.      The  French  count,  who    has  lately 
publifhed  the  Art  of  War,  remarks  how  much 
foldiers  are  animated,  when  they  fee  all  their 
dangers  fhared  by  thofe  who  were  born  to  be 
their  matters,  and  whom  they  confider  as  be- 
ings of  a  different  rank.  The  Englijhman  dcfpifcs 
fuch  motives  of  courage  :  he  was  born  without 
amafter;  and  looks  not  on  any  man,  however 
dignified  by  lace  or  titles,    as  deriving  from  na- 
ture any  claims  to  his  refpeft,  or  inheriting  any 
quahties  fuperior  to  his  own. 

Vol,  II.  N  There 


266       The  Bravsry  of  tkb 

Tlierc  are  fomc,  perhaps,  who  would  imaghic  . 
that  every  Engli/hman  fights  better  than  the  fub- 
jeas  of  abfolute  governments,  becaufe  he  has 
raore  to  defend.     But  what  has  the  Englijh  more 
than  the  French  foldier  ?  Property  they  are  both 
commonly  without.    Liberty  is,  to  the  loweft 
rank  of  every  nation,  little  more  than  the  choice 
of  working  or  ftarving;    and  this  choice  is,   I 
fuppofe,  equally  allowed  in  every  country.  The 
Engll/h  foldier  feldom  has  his  head  very  full  of  the 
conf^itution  ;  nor  has  there  been,  for  more  than 
a  century,  any  war  that  put  the  property  or  h- 
berty  of  a  fingle  iJ^^/Z/^'WAn  in  danger. 

Whence  then  is  the  courigc  of  t\\t  Enghjh 
vulgar  ?  It  proceeds,  in  my  opinion,  from  that 
diffolution  of  dependance  which  obliges  every 
man  to  regard  his  own  charaacr.     While  every 
man  is  fed  by  his  own  hands,  he  has  no  need  of 
anv  fervile  arts  :    he  may  always  have  wages 
for  his  labour  ;  and  is  no  lefs  neceflary  to  his 
employer,  than  his  employer  is  to  him.    While 
he  looks  for  no  proteaion  from  others,  he  is 
naturally  roufed  to  be  his  own  proteaor  ;  and, 
having  nothing  to  abate  his  efteem  of  himfelf, 
he  confequently  afpires  to  the  efteem  of  others. 
Thus  every  man  that  crowds  our  ftreets  ,s  a 
man  of  honour,  difdainful  of  obligation,  impa- 
^ent  of  reproach,  and  defirous  of  extending  his 
reputation  among  thofe  of  his  own  rank ;  and 
L'courage  is  iaxnoft  frequent  ufe,  the  fa^me  o 


has 


£  N'G  LI  S  H   Co  M  M  0  N  St)  L  D  I  E  R  S.    267 

•courage  is  moft  eagerly  purfued.  From  this 
negled  of  fubordination,  I  do  not  deny  that 
ibme  inconveniences  may  from  time  to  time 
proceed  5  the  power  of  the  law  does  nOt  always 
fufficiently  fupply  the  want  of  reverence,  or 
maintain  the  proper  diflindtion  between  differ- 
ent ranks  ;  but  good  and  evil  will  grow  up  in 
this  world  together ;  and  they  who  complain, 
in  peace,  of  the  infolence  of  the  populace,  muft 
remember,  that  their  infolence  in  peace  is  bra- 
very in  war. 


THE    END. 


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