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THE
OBSERVER:
BEING A COLLECTION OF
MORAL, LITERARY AND FAMILIAR
E
S
S
A
Y
S.
VOLUME THE FIRST.
by?, melons
MUĻTOR UM PROVINUS'URBES
*T MORES HOMINUM INSPEXIT owned and :
(TORAT.)
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR C. DILLY IN THE POULTRY.
M.DCC.LXXXVI.


OX LIBRA
RARE
CW YORK
VEW YORK


C
O
N
T
E
N
T S
OF THE
FIRST V O L U M E.
NUMBER.
PAGE.
1. J NTRODUCTORY paper.
Quotation from Spectator Nº
124. Some deſcription of the pre-
. fent work, particularly of the lite-
rary anecdotes.of Greece -
II. Seet of the Dampers deſcribed. Quo-
tation from Pliny's letters -
III. Love of praiſe. Inſtances of flattery
in the dedication of Sepulveda to
the preſent king of Spain, alſo in
Ben Jonſon's maſques in the court
of James I. That poet an imitator
of Ariſtophanes. Vanity of author's
A ?


C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.
PAGE.
NUMBER.
in prefixing their prints to their
works. Portrait of a citizen on
horſeback. Anecdote of a dancing-
maſter and his ſcholar - 19
IV. Viſit to Sir Theodore and Lady
Thimble : their country-houſe and
family deſcribed - - 27
V. Vifit continued. Calliope reads part
of an epic poem. Dr. Mac-Infidel
diſcourſes againſt Chriſt's miracles 35
VI. Converſation with Calliope ſubfe-
quent to Dr. Mac- Infidel's dif-
courſe, and two letters from Cap-
tain Henry Conſtant to that young
lady - " -
VII. Athenian Viſion -
VIII. Athenian Viſion concluded - 64
IX. Calliope's interview and reconcilia-
tion with Captain Conſtant deſcri-
bed, in a letter from that young
lady - - - 75
X. Hiſtory of Pythagoras - 84
XI. The ſame continued to his death - 92
XII. Pythagoras compared with Chrift;
the heathen argument againſt re-
vealed religion - - 101
XIII. Defence


C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.
NUMBER.
PAGE.
XIII. Defence of Chriſt's miracles againſt
modern cavils, particularly of the
ſupernatural darkneſs at the Paſ-
fion - : - - 113
XIV. Abſtract of the hiſtory of Athens
from its origin to the time of
Erecthonius, founder of the Eleu-
ſynian myſteries and the Pana-
thenæa -
- 124
XV. Short account of the Myſteries :
Athenian hiſtory brought down to
the ſiege of Troy, and death of
Meneſtheus - - 132
XVI. The Iliad of Homer deſcribed. Athe-
. nian hiſtory carried on to the con-
clufion of the decennial archons - 143
XVII. Remarks upon the laws of Draco.
Life and actions of Solon to the
time of his leaving Athens after
the publication of his laws - 153
XVIII. Hiſtory of Athens continued to the
death of Solon; charafter of that
eminent citizen. Uſurpation of
Piſiſtratus -
- 164
XIX. Of the public library founded at
Athens by Piſiſtratus ; account of
that and the Alexandrian libraries 174
XX. Danger


C Ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ 5.
PAGE.
NUMBER.
XX. Danger of fulden elevation. Quo-
tation from Ben Jonſon's Sir Epio,
cure Mammon. Letters from Pi-
sipratus to Solon, and Solon to Pin
fiftratus in anſwer. Anecdotes of
the latter - - 184
✓ XXI. On the ſubje£l of divorces, with
ironical rules for their further
propagation and encouragement - 195
v XXII, Tragic Rory of Abdullah and Za
rima
-
- 205
XXIII. Upon refignation to Providence.
• Diary of Chaubert the miſanthrope 214
XXIV. Chaubert's diary concluded. Tranſ-
lation of a fragment of Philemon,
a Greek comic poet - - 225
XXV. Characler of l'aneſſa; viſit to that
lady, with a converſation piece - 232
XXVI. Charafler of Leontine. Remarks
upon duelling. Precepts for dif-
putants ,
- 244
XXVII. Tragic ſtory of a Portugueſe gen-
tleman, who died by the rack - 256
XXVIII. On the practice of puffing. Enu-
meration of perſons addicted to this
practice
--- 267
XXIX, Remarks


CO N T E N T S.
NUMBER.
PAGE.
XXIX. Remarks on the ſtate of ſociety in
France, Spain, and England, with
the cauſes which obſtruct its enjoy-
ment in this country - - 276
XXX. On Gaming
286
THE





2.
.. and
-....
THE .
OBS E R V E R.
N° 1.
THEN a man breaks in upon a coma
VV pány of ſtrangers, to which he is not
invited, the intruſion does or does not demand
än apology, according to the nature of the
buſineſs which brings him thither: If it im-
ports the company only, and he has no intereſt
in the errand, the leſs time he fpends in cere-
mony the better; and he muſt be a very ſilly
fellow indeed, who ſtands fhuffling and apolo-
gizing, when he ought either to warn people
of their danger, or inform them of their good
fortune: But where this is not the caſe, and
the man, ſo intruding, has nothing more to
fay for himſelf; than that he is come to ſit
down in their company, to prattle and tell
ſtories, and club his fhare to the general feſti-
B
vity


2 THE OBSERVER. N° 1
vity of the table, it will behove him to recome
mend himſelf very ſpeedily to the good graces
of his new acquaintance; and if his conver-
fation furniſhes neither infruction nor amuſe-
ment, if he ſtarts no new topics, or does not
talk agreeably upon old ones, 'tis well if he
does not make his exit as abruptly as he ene
tered. L e s mer
In like manner, every author finds a mate-
rial difference in his firſt approaches to the
public, whether his fubject recommends him,
or he is to recommend his ſubject: If he has
any thing new in art or ſcience to produce,
any thing important to communicate for the
benefit of mankind, he need be under no difa
ficulty in demanding their attention to a buſia
neſs, which it is fo much their intereſt to hear
and underſtand; on the contrary, if he has
nothing to tell his readers, but what they knew
before he told it, there muſt be ſome candor
on their part, and great addreſs on his, to ſee
cure to ſuch an author a good reception in the
world.
. . .
I am at this inſtant under all the embar.
raſlınents incident to a man in the laſt-mens
tioned predicament: I am exceedingly delia
rợus to make my beſt bow to the good com-
pany


No 1. THE OBSERVER. 3
pany I am intruding myſelf upon, and yet
equally anxious, that in ſo doing I may nei.
ther make my firſt advances with the ſtiff
grimace of a dancing-maſter, nor with the
: - too familiar air of a ſelf-important. As I pre-
tend to nothing more in theſe pages, than to
tell my readers what I have obſerved of inen
and books, in the moſt amuſing manner I am
able, I know not what to ſay to them more
than humbly to requeſt a hearing; and, as I
am in perfect charity and good-humour with
them, ſincerely to hope that they on their
parts will be in like good-humour and charity
with me. ...; ;
ici,
My firſt wiſh was to have followed the ſteps
of thoſe Eſſayiſts, who have fo fucceſsfully
ſet the faſhion of publiſhing their lucubrations
from day to day in ſeparate papers. This
mode of marching into the world by detach-
ments has been happily taken up by men of
great generalfhip in literature, of whom fome
are yet amongft us. Though Mr. Addiſon,
in his Spectator, Nº 124, has afferted, that a
man who publiſhes his works in n volume, has
an infinite advantage over one who communicates
his writings to the world in looſe. Meets and ſingle
pieces, it does not appear that he is ferious in
..
B 2
his


N° 1. THE OBSERVER $
the undertaking : but there are good reaſons,
why writers have defifted from purſuing any
further theſe attempts of working through a
channel, which others are in poffeßion of, who
might chance to levy fuch-a toll upon their
merchandize as would effectually ſpoil their
market.
The miſcellaneous matter I propoſe to give
in theſe ſheets naturally coincides with the
method I have taken of diſpoſing them into
diſtinct papers, and I ſhall proceed to publiſh
in like manner till my plan is compleated, or,
till any unforeſeen event cuts ſhort the proſe-,
cution of it. For me to conceive, in an age
to enlightened as the preſent, that I can offer.'
any thing to the public, which many of my
readers will not be as well informed of as
myſelf, would be a very filly preſumption in-
deed: fimply to ſay that I have written no-
thing but with a moral deſign would be faying
very little, for it is not the vice of the time to
countenance publications of an oppoſite ten-
dency; to adminiſter moral precepts through
a pleaſing vehicle ſeems now the general ſtudy
of our Eſſayiſts, Dramatiſts, and Noveliſts.
The Preacher may enforce his doctrinės ir
the ſtile of authority, for it is his profeffion
-
B 3
to


6- THE OBSERV ÉR. N° 1.
to ſummon mankind to their duty; but an
uncommiſſioned inſtructor will ſtudy to con-
ciliate, whilft he attempts to correct. Even
the Satiriſt, who declares war againſt vice and
folly, feldom commits himſelf to the attack
without keeping ſome retiring-place open in
the quarter of panegyric; if he cuts deep, it
is with the hand of a ſurgeon, not of an aſſaf-
fin. Few authors now undertake to mend the
world by ſeverity, many make it their ſtudy
by ſome new and ingenious device to ſoften
the rigour of philofophy, and to bind the rod
of the moraliſt with the roſes of the muſe.
I have endeavoured to relieve and chequer
theſe familiar eſſays in a manner that I hope
will be approved of; I allude to thoſe papers,
in which I treat of the literature of the Greeks,
carrying down my hiſtory in a chain of anec-
dotes from the earlieſt poets to the death of
Menander's to this part of my work I have
addreſſed my greateſt pains and attention. I
believe the plan is ſo far my own, that nobody
has yet given the account in ſo compreſſed and
unmixt a ſtate as I ſhall do, and none I think
will envy me the labour of turning over fuch
a maſs of heavy materials for the ſake of ſe-
Jecling what I hoped would be acceptable in
the


NOT: THE OBSERVER. I
the relation. Though I cannot ſuppoſe I am
free from error, I can ſafely ſay I have aſſerted
nothing without authority; but it did not ſuit
the purpoſe of the work to make a diſplay of
thoſe authorities, as it was my with to level
it to readers of all deſcriptions. The tranſla-
tions I ſhall occaſionally give will be of ſuch
authors, or rather fragments of authors, as
come under few people's review, and have
never been ſeen in an Engliſh verſion; theſe
paſſages therefore will have the merit of no-
velty at leaſt with moſt readers, and if I ſucceed
in naturalizing to any degree authors, whole
names only float amongſt us, I ſhall not think
that what has been the heavieſt part of my
undertaking has been the moft unprofitable.
As I mean this to be a kind of liber circum-
currens, I have thought it not amiſs to intitle
i The Obſerver,
--
--
N° II.
WHERE is a pretty numerous feet of
1 philoſophers in this kingdom, whom I
cannot defcribe by any apter denomination,
than that of Dampers. They are to be known
В 4


8 THE OBSERVER. N. 2.
in ſociety hy a ſudden damp, which they are
'fure to call upon all companies, where they
enter. The human heart, that comes within
their atmoſphere, never fails to be chilled; and
the quickeſt ſenſe of feeling is as effeétually
benumb'd, as the touch is with the torpedo.
As this feet is of very ancient ſtanding in the
world, and has been taken notice of by ſeve-
ral heathen writers, I have ſometimes thought
that it might originate in the ſchool of Thales,
who held water to be the firſt principle of all
things. If I were certain that this ancient
philoſopher always adminiltered his water cold
to his diſciplca, I Thould incline to think the
preſent ſect of Dampers was really a branch
from the Thaleſian root, for it is certain they
make great uſe of his firſt principle in the phi-
lofophy they practiſe.
The buſineſs of theſe philoſophers in fociety
is to check the flights and fallics of thoſc vo-
Jatile brings, who are ſubject to be carried
away by imagination and fancy, or, in other
worls, to act as a counterpoile again it genius;
of the vices of mankind they take little notice,
but they are at great pains to correct their
vanity. They have various receipts for curing
this evil; the ordinary method is hy keeping
Stern


N° 2. THE OBSERV E R.
ftern ſilence and an unmoved viſage in com-
panies which are diſpoſed to be chearful.
This taciturnity, if well kept up, never fails
in the end to work a cure upon- feſtivity ac-
cording to the firſt principle of Thales: if the
Damper looks moroſe, every body wonders
what the moody gentleman is diſpleaſed with,
and each in his turn ſuſpects himſelf in the
fault; if he only looks wiſe, all are expecting
when the dumb oracle will utter, and in the
mean time his ſilence infects the whole circle ;
if the Dampere ſeaſons his taciturnity with a
ſhrug of the ſhoulders, or a ſhake of the head;
judiciouſly thrown in, when any talkative fel-
low raiſes a laugh, 'tis ten to one if the mor-
tified wit ever opens his mouth again for that
evening; if a ſtory is told in his company,
and the teller makes a flip in a date, or a name,
a true Damper may open, provided it is done
agreably to the rules of his order, by ſetting
the ſtory-teller right with much gravity, and
adjuſting the miſtake ſo deliberately, that the
ſpirit of the ſtory ſhall be ſure to evaporate;
before the commentator has properly ſettled
his correction of the text. If any lucky wit
chances to ſay what is called a good thing, and
the table applauds, it is a Demer's duty to
alk


10 THE OBSERVER. N° 2.
ale,
aſk an explanation of the joke, or whether that
was all, and whạt t'other gentleman ſaid, who
was the butt of the jeſt, and other proper
queſtions of the like fort. If one of the com-
pany riſques a fally for the ſake of good-fel.
lowſhip, which is a little on the wrong ſide
of truth, or not ſtrictly reducible to proof, a
Damper may with great propriety ſet him
right in the matter of fact, and demonſtrate,
as clear as two and two make four, that what
he has faid may be mathematically confuted,
and that the merry gentleman is miſtaken.
A Damper is to keep ſtrict watch over the
morals of the company, and not to ſuffer the
leaſt indiſcretion to eſcape in the warmth of
conviviality; on this occaſion he muſt be rea-
dy to call to order, and to anſwer for his friend
to the company, that he has better principles
than he affects to have; that he ſhould be for-
· ry ſuch and ſuch an opinion went out againſt
him; and that he is certain he forgot himſelf,
when he faid fo and ſo. If any glance is made
at private characters, however notorious, a
Damper ſteps in with a recommendation of
candour, and inveighs moſt pathetically againſt
the ſin of evil-ſpeaking. He is never merry
in company, except when any one in it is ap-
parently


Nº 2. THE OBSERVER. it
parently out of ſpirits, and with ſuch an one
he is always exceedingly pleaſant.
· A Damper is ſo profeſt an enemy to flattery,
that he never applies it in ever ſo ſmall a
degree even to the moſt diffident: he never
chears a young author for fear of marring his
modeſty, never finks truths becauſe they are
diſagreable, and if any one is rafhly enjoying
the tranſports of public fame on account of
fome ſucceſsful production in art or ſcience,
the Damper kindly tells him what ſuch and
ſuch a critic has ſcoffingly faid on the occa-
fion, and, if nothing better offers, lowers his
triumphs with a paragraph from a news-paper,
which his thoughtleſs friend might elſe have
overlooked. He is remarkably careful not to
ſpoil young people by making allowances for
{pirits or inexperience, or by indulging them
in an opinion of their perſons or accompliſh-
ments. He has many excellent apothegms in
his mouth ready to recommend to thoſe, who
want them, ſuch as to be merry and wife ;-ma
grain of truth is better than an ounce of wit ;
a fool's bolt is foon fhot, but a wiſe man keeps his
within the quiver ;-he that was only taught by
himſelf had a fool to his maſter ;-and many
more of the like ſort,
The


12 THE OBSERVER. No 2:
The following letter will ſerve to ſhew in
what ſort of eſtimation this ſect of Dampers
was held by a Roman author, who was one
of the fineſt gentlemen of his time.
PLINY to RESTITUTUS*.
I cannot forbear pouring out my indignation
before you in a letter, ſince I have no opportunity
of doing ſo in perfon, againſt a certain behaviour
which gave me ſome offence in an aſſembly, where
I was lately preſent. The company was enter -
tained with the recital of a very finiſhed per-
formance; but there were two or three perſons
among the audience, men of great genius in their
own and a few of their friends eſtimation, who
fat like ſo many mutes, without ſo much as moving
a lip or a hand, or once riſing from their ſeats,
even to ſhift their poſture. But to what purpoſe,
in the name of good ſenſe, all this wondrous air
of wiſdom and ſolemnity, or rather indeed (ta
give it its true appellation) of this proud indo-
lence? Is it not downright folly, or even madneſs,
thus to be at the expence of a whole day merely
to commit a piece of rudeneſs, and leave him an
enemy, whom you viſited as a friend? Is a man
• MELMOTN'S Tranſlation,
conscious


N° 2. THE OBSÉ Ř VER. 13
confcious that he polelles a ſuperior degree of
eloquence than the perſon whom he attends upori
on ſuch an occaſion ? so much the rather bughi
he to guard againſt every appearance of envy,
as a paſſion that always implies inferioritys
wherever it reſides. But whatever a man's ta-
tent may be, whether greater or equal or leſs
than his friend's, ſtill it is his intereft to give
him the approbation he deſerves : if greater or
equal, becauſe the higher his glory riſes, whom
you equal or excel, the more confiderable yours
muft neceſſarily be; if leſs, becauſe if one of more
exalted abilities does not meet with applauſe, nei-
ther poſſibly can you. For my own part, I ho-
nour and revere all, who diſcover any degree of
merit in the painful and laborious art of oratory;
for eloquence is a high and haughty dame, who
fcorns to reſide with thoſe that deſpiſe hér. But
perhaps you are not of this opinion; yet who has
a greater regard for this glorious feience; or is c
more candid judge of it than yourſelf?. In con-
fidence of which, I choſe to vent niy-indignation
particularly to you, as not doubting you would be
the firft to share with me in the fame fentiments.
.. . Farewell.
-
--
...
The


14 THE OBSERVER, Nº 2.
The Romans were much in the habit of
reading their unpublished performances to le-
lect parties, and ſometimes no doubt put the
patience and politenels of their hearers to a
ſevere trial : I conceive that this practice does
not obtain to any great degree amongſt us at
preſent; neither is it a thing to be recom-
mended to young authors, except under pecu-
liar circumſtances; for they certainly expoſe
themſelves and their hearers to a ſituation very
delicate at beft, and which ſometimes leads to
unpleaſant conſequences. I am aware how
much is to be expected from the judicious re-
marks of a critic, who will correct with all
the malice of a friend; yet a man lo qualified
and diſpoſed is not eaſily found, and does not
often fall within the liſt of an author's ac-
quaintance; men, who read their works in
circles, or to any but the moſt ſelect friends,
read for no other purpoſe but for admiration
and applauſe; they cannot poſſibly expect cri-
ticiſm, and it is accordingly agreed upon by
all, but the fact of the Dampers, either to keep
out of ſuch circles, or to pay their quota when
the reckoning is caſt up. Few, but men of
quick and lively parts, are forward to recite
in ſuch focieties, and theſe are the very men,
who


N° 2. THE OBSERVER. 15
who are moſt pained by neglect; for I think,
it is a remark, with as few exceptions to it as
moſt general remarks have, that brilliant ta-
lents are attended with extreme ſenſibility,
and the effects of ſenſibility bear ſuch reſem-
blance to the effects of vanity, that the una
diſcerning multitude are too apt to confound
them. Theſe are the men, who, in their proin
greſs - through life, are moſt frequently miſ-
underſtood, and generally lefs pitied than they
ought to be. ,
Now a Damper will tell you that he is con-
fulting fuch a man's good, and lowering his
vanity, when he is ſporting with his feelings,
and will take merit to himſelf for the diſcipline
he gives him; but humanity will reflect, that
the fame fpirits, which are prone to exult upon
ſucceſs, are proportionably agonized by the
failure of it, and will therefore prompt us to
a gentler treatment of ſuch perſons.
The ſums which are expended in this nation
upon thoſe refined enjoyments, which are prom
duced by the expertneſs of the hands and the
ingenuity of the head, are certainly very great;
and men are therefore apt to exclaim, « See
“ what encouragement this country gives to
« arts and ſciences !” If money were the ſtane
dard


16 THE OBSERVER: N. 2,
dard meaſure of encouragement, there could
be no diſpute in the caſe; but ſo long as meri
have a feeling for their pride, as well as for
their pocket, money alone will not encourage
and promote the genius of a nation; it is the
grace of doing a favour, which conſtitute's
its merit; it is from the manners of the great
that the man of riſing talents is to draw thať
inſpiriting conſideration of himſelf, that ſti-
mulating pride of nature, which are to puſh
his efforts towards perfection. . .
-"A limner will take à canvaſs and chalk out
á man's face he has never ſeen before, and
hang on his robes, or his garter, if he has onė,
or will put a horſe in his hand, if he likes it
better, or make a battle in the back ground,
if he was ever within hearing of one, and
when the job is finiſhed will be paid the price
of his labour, like any other mechanic; the
money he may ſpend or put to ufe; and, if
cuſtomers come in, he may raife his price
upon them, and the world may call thoſe pro-
fits an encouragement; but the painter is ſtill
a tradefinan, and his fitter, not a patron, but a
cuſtomer: The mercer, whoſe damaſk clothes
the walls, of the nobleman's faloon, and the
artiſt, whoſe pictures hang round it, are in the
fainc


No 2. THE OBSERVER. - 19
fame predicament as to encouragement, whilſt
neither of them are admitted into the houſe
they contribute to adorn.
As I have made this remark with a refer-
ence to the Dampers in high life, I am aware
that there are many eminent encouragers of
the arts and ſciences amongſt the rich and libe-
ral; nay ſo general is their protection, that it
comprehends a numerous importation of exo-
tic tooth-drawers, dancers, and milliners, who
find that England is the nurſery of genius :
even the magnifying philoſopher of Piccadilly
(unleſs he multiplies as well as magnifies) has
ſhewn his wonders ſo frequently and to ſuch
prodigious numbers, that it is to be doubted,
if they ſhall continue to be wonders much
longer.
There were men in ancient Greece no
doubt, who talked, though Zeno choſe to hold
his tongue, when certain ambaſſadors had in-
vited him to ſupper, that they might report
his fayings to their ſovereign ; What ſhall we
py of you to our maſter? the foreigners de-
manded; Say that I had the wiſdom to hold my
tongue, replied the Stoic. Though I am clear.
ly of opinion that this great maſter of ſilence
was an intolerable Damper, and made a very
VOL. I.
poor
.


18 THE OBSERVER: N° 2.-
poor return to theſe fame hoſpitable ambaſſa-
· dors for their good entertainment of him, yet
I am not quite ſo ready with my anſwer to a.
certain female correſpondent, who in conſe-
quence of ſome diſcourſe upon Dampers the
other day, in a company where ſhe was pre-,
fent, favoured me with the following ſhort,
but curious, epiſtle
.« Sir,
"I HAVE the misfortune to be married to
€ an elderly gentleman, who has taken ſtrange
« things in his head of late, and is for ever,
« ſnubbing me before folks, eſpecially when
" the Captain is in company. 'Twas but
“ t'other night he broke up a party of hot-
« cockles in the back parlour, and would not
“ let the Captain take a civil falute, though-
" I aſſured him it was only a forfeit at quef-
« tions and commands.
“ I don't know what he means by ſaying
« he will put a ſpoke in my wheel, but I ſuf-.
" pect it is ſome jealouſy matter.
· “ Pray, Sir, is not my huſband what you
call a Damper? Yours,
“ Lucy LoveIt.”
N. III.


N° 3: THE OBSERVER. 19
..: Nº III. iii
THE deſire of praiſe is natural, but when
1 that appetite becomes canine, it is no
longer in nature : a taſte of it is pleaſant to
moſt men; temperance itſelf will take a little,
but the ſtomach fickens with a ſurfeit of its
and the palate nauſeates the debauch....
Let the paſſion for flattery be ever ſo inor-
dinate, the ſupply can keep pace with the dea
mand, and in the world's great market, in
which wit and folly drive their bargains with
each other, there are traders of all ſorts ; ſome
keep a ftall of offals, fome a ſtorehouſe, of de
licacies; a ſqueamiſh palate muſt be forced by!
alluring provocatives, a foul feeder will ſwal.
low any traſh that he can get hold of...
In a recent publication of the hiſtory of the
Emperor Charles the Fifth, written by Sepul-
veda of Cordova (a contemporary and favorite
of that famous monarchy) the Academy of
Hiſtory at Madrid in their dedication to his
preſent Catholic Majeſty, addreſs him in the
following words.Nam quem tu, Carole Rexy
ut nomine refers, ita etiam bellicâ laude jamprie
dem ærnularisa When theſe courtly academic
C2
cians
,


N° 3. THE OBSERVER. 21
are his maſques ! In his News from the New
World he ſays of James
« Read him as you would do the book
• Of all perfe&tions, and but look
" What his proportions be:
" No meaſure that is thence contrivd,
" Or any motion thence deriv'd,
“ But is pure harmony."
This poet, though he was rather a clumſy
Aatterer of his prince, was ingenious enough
in the mode he took for flattering himſelf, by
introducing a kind of chorus, wherein he
takes occaſion to tell his hearers, that careleſs
of all vulgar cenſure, as not depending on com-
mon approbation, he is confident his plays fall
ſuper-pleaſe judicious ſpectators, and to them he
leaves it to work with the reſt by example, or
otherwiſe. It is remarkable that this paſſage
ſhould be found in his Magnetic Lady, and that
he ſhould ſpeak with ſuch confidence of one
of his worſt productions, as if he was deter-
mined to force a bad comedy upon the hear-
ers by the authority of his own recommenda-
tion. This is an evident imitation of Ariſto-
phanes, who in his comedy of The Clouds holds
the ſame language to his audience, fairly tell-
ing them he shall eſtimate their judgment accordo
C3
ing


22 THE: OBSERVER. No g.
ing to the degree of applauſe they fhall beſtow
upon his performance then before them: in con,
cluſion he inveighs againſt certain of his cons
temporaries, Eupolis, Phrynichus, and Hera
mippus, with whoſe comedies if any of his audi-
ence is well pleaſed, that perſon he hopes will de-
part from his difſatisfied; but if they condemn
his rivals, and applaud him, he ſhall think better
of their judgment for the future. Aą 1. Sc. 6.
The caution authors now proceed with
ſhews the refinement of the times; ſtill they
can contrive in a modeſt way to ſay civil
things of themſelves, and it would be hard
indeed to diſappoint them of ſo flight a grati-
fication for what praiſe is ſo little to he en-
vied, as that which a man beſtows on himſelf?
Several of our diurnal Eſſayiſts have contrived
under the veil of fiction to hook in ſomething
recommendatory of themſelves, which they
mean ſhould paſs for truth ; fuch is the intel,
ligent taciturnity of the Spectator, and the
{olemn integrity of the Guardian, ..
The latter in one of his papers notices the
ambition of ſome authors to prefix engravings
of their portraits to their title pages; his ridi-
cule has not quite laughed this faſhion qut of
countenance, for I perceive it is ſtill in exiſt,
ence,


N° 3. THE OBSERVER. 23
ence, and I frequently meet the face of an old
acquaintance looking through the windows
of a bookſeller's ſhop. One very ingenious
gentleman, whoſe beauty is amongſt the leaſt
of his recommendations, has very prudently
ſtamped his age upon his print. In the ſame
ſhop window with this gentleman I obſerved
with great pleaſure an elegant author ſtanding
by him, as erect as a dart, firm and collected
in the awful moment of beginning a minuet.
I own I regret that the honeſt butler, who has
regaled the age with a treatiſe on ale and ſtrong
beer, has not hung out his own head in the
front of his book, as a ſign of the good enter-
tainment within.
But of all the inſtances of face-fattery I
have lately met with, that of a worthy citizen
ſurprized me moſt, whoſe compting-houſe I
entered the other day, and found an enormous
portrait of my friend in a Aaming drapery of
blue and gold, mounted upon the back of a
war-horſe, which the limner has made to rear
To furiouſly, that I was quite aſtoniſhed to ſee
my friend, who is no great jockey, keep his
feat fo ſteadily: he confeſſed to me that he had
conſented to be drawn on horſeback to pleaſe
his wife and daughters, who choſe the attitude;
for
C4


24 THE OBSERVER. N° 3,
for his own part it made him quite giddy to
look at himſelf, and he frequently deſired the
painter not to let the horſe prance ſo, but ta
no purpoſe.
Too great avidity of praiſe will ſometimes
betray an author into a ſtudied attempt at fine
writing, where the thought will not carry the
ſtile ; writers of this fort are like thoſe taſte-
leſs dabblers in architecture, who turn the
gable-cnds of barns and cottages into caſtles
and temples, and ſpend a world of plaiſtering
and pains to decorate a pig-ſtye. They bring
to my mind a ridiculous ſcene, at which I was
preſent the other day; I found a lady of my
acquaintance buſily employed in the domeſtic
education of her only ſon; the preceptor was
in the room, and was ſtanding in an attitude
very much reſembling the erect gentleman I
had ſeen that morning in the bookſeller's win-
dow; The boy kept his eyes fixt, and ſeemed
to govern his moțions by certain ſignals of
the feet and arms, which he repeated from the
preceptor. In the courſe of my converſation
with his mother, I chanced to drop my glove
upon the floor, upon which he approached to
pick it up, but in a ſtep ſo meaſured and me-
thodical, that I had done the office for myſelf,
before


N° 3. THE OBSERVER.' 25
3
2
8
before he had performed his advances. As I
was about to reſume the converſation, the
mother interrupted me, by deſiring I would
favour her ſo far as to drop my glove again,
that Bobby might have the honour of preſent-
ing it to me in proper form: All this while
the boy ſtood as upright as an arrow, perfectly
motionleſs; but no ſooner had I thrown down
my gauntlet, than he began to put one foot
ſlowly in advance before the other; upon
which the preceptor of politeneſs cried out,
One! - Firſt poſition !—The boy then made
another movement of his feet, upon which the
maſter repeated - Two! - Second poſition !
This was followed by another, and the echo
again cried out Three! very well-Third po-
fition! Bend your body ſlowly ! --At the word
of command the automaton bent its body very
deliberately, its arms hanging down in paral-,
Jel perpendiculars to the floor, like the fore-
legs of a quadruped. The glove being now
taken up by the right hand, was placed with
great decorum upon the back of the left hand;
the trunk of the animal was ſlowly reſtored
to its erect poſition, and the glove preſented
with all due ſolemnity. As I was in hopes
the ceremony was now over, upon hearing
the


26 THE OBSERVER. N. 3.
the teacher cry bravo! I thought it time to
make n y compliment of Thank you, pretty
Maſter! but I was again in a miſtake, for the
mother begged me not to hurry her dear Bobby,
but allow him time to make his bow, and ſtill
hold the glove in my hand : This was an opera-
tion of no Night conſequence, for in the time it
took him up, a nimble artiſt might have made
the glove: At laſt however it was over, and
the boy was putting himſelf in order of retreat,
when the maſter obſerving that I had omitted
the neceſſary bend of my wriſt upon receiving
the glove, for want of which the whole had
been imperfect, propoſed a repetition of the
manceuvre, in which Bobby ſhould be the
dropper, and himſelf the picker up of the
glove. This propoſal ſtruck me with ſuch
horror, that taking a haſty leave of the lady,
in which, firſt, ſecond and third poſition were
probably huddled all together, I departed, re-
peating to myſelf in the words of Foigard,
All this may be very fine, but upon my ſoul it is
very ridiculous,
Nº IV.


N°4. THE OBSERVER. 27
N° IV.
TADY THIMBLE is one of thoſe fea
male pedants, who with quick animal ſpi.
rits, a pert imagination, great ſelf-conceit, and
a homely perſon, ſets herſelf up for a woman
of talents ; She has as much of the learned
languages, as a boarding-ſchool girl carries
home of French upon her firſt holidays, when
Miſs aſſures you ſhe can call for what ſhe
wants, and, though ſhe wont utter a word in
the parlour from pretended modeſty, inſults
the ignorance of the chambermaid with an
eternal jargon of bad grammar, worſe pro-
nounced. This learned lady is the only child
of a wealthy trader of the city of London,
who, having never advanced in his own edu-
cation beyond the erudition of the compting-
houſe, took care his daughter ſhould be in-
{tructed in every thing he did not underſtand
himſelf, and as the girl grew exceedingly vain
of the applauſe of the pedagogue, who read to
her, the merchant grew as vain of the ſcholar-
ſhip of his child, and would liſten to the found
of Latin or Greck with as much ſuperſtitious
reſpect,


28 THE OBSERVER. No 4.
reſpect, as a Gentoo does to the Shanſcrite
language of the Brahmins.
Miſs in the mean time became an inſuffer-
able flattern in her cloaths and perfon, her
kandkerchiefs and aprons were full of iron-
moulds from the drippings of the inkhorn, and
her ſtockings full of holes from her neglect of
the needle: Theſe were in fact badges of af-
fedation rather than of overſight, and you
could not pay your court to her better than
by rallying her about them. She wore a head
of falſe hair, not becauſe her own was thin,
but becauſe a wig was thrown on in an in-
ftant; this was ſometimes done with a negli-
gerce, that ſeemed ſtudied, and when the
Bearned Ventoſus vouchſafed to viſit her, ſhe
was ſure to wear her wig awry, as Alexander's
courtiers did their heads, in honour of her
gueſt: There was indeed an unſeemly hu.
mour fettled in her noſe, but this ſhe got by
ftudying Locke upon the human underſtanding
after dinner ; before ſhe could develope the
whole doctrine of innate ideas, the humour
deepened many ſhades, which however on the
whole may be allowed to be getting off pret-
ty well for a ſtudent in metaphyſics. No face
could bear the addition of a red noſe better
than


No 4. THE OBSERVER. 29
than Lady Thimble's: but a more alarming
accident had befallen her in her aſtronomical
ſtudies, for as ſhe was following a comet in
its perihelion through the ſolutions of Sir Iſaac
Newton, her cap caught fire, and ſhe was
forced to break off in the midſt of a propoſi-
tion, by which means ſhe dropt a ſtitch in the
demonſtration, and never was able to take it
up again; her ſkin being cruelly ſcorched by
this ſyſtem of the comets, ſhe wears a crimſon
fcar upon her cheek, not indeed as an orna-
ment to her beauty, but as a trophy of her
ſcience.
Her works are pretty voluminous, eſpecial-
ly in manuſcript; but cenſorious people affect
to whiſper, that ſhe performed one work in
concert with the pedant her maſter, and that,
though this compoſition was brought ſecretly
into the world, it is the only one of her pro-
ducing, that bids fair for poſterity: This ſtory
and the remark upon it, I had from a lady,
who is one of her intimate friends, but the
aſſured me ſhe gave no credit to it herſelf, and
conſidered all ſuch ſcandalous inſinuations as
the effects of malice and envy.
At the age of ſeven and twenty, by the
perſuaſion of her father, ſhe was joined in
the


30 THE OBSERVER. Nº 4:
the bands of wedlock to Sir Theodore Thim-
ble: This gentleman had been lately dubbed
a knight for his fervices to the crown in
bringing up a county addreſs; his father, Mr.
David Thimble, had been an eminent taylor
in the precincts of St. Clements, in which
buſineſs he had by his induſtry and other me-
thods raiſed a very reſpectable fortune in mo-
ncy, book-debts and remnants : In his latter
years Mr. Thimble purchaſed a conſiderable
cſtate in Efex with a fine old manſion upon
it, the laſt remaining property of an ancient
family. This vencrable ſeat during the life
of Mr. Thimble remained uncontaininated by
the preſence of its poſleflor, but upon his
death it fell into the occupation of young
Theodore, who diſdaining the croſs-legg’d art,
by which his father had worked himſelf into
opulence, ſet out upon a new eſtabliſhment,
and figured off as the firſt gentleman of his
family: He ſerved as ſheriff of the county,
and acquired great reputation in that high.
office by the elegant and well cut liveries,
which he exhibited at the aſlizes ; a lucky ad-
dreſs from the county gave him a title, and
the recommendation of a good ſettlement pro-
. cured.


N° 4. THE OBSERVER 31
cured him his preſent lady, whom we have
been deſcribing.
As I have been in long habits of friendſhip
with the worthy citizen her father, I could
not reſiſt the many preſſing invitations he gave
me to pay a viſit to his daughter and Sir,
Theodore at their country ſeat, eſpecially as
he prefaced it by aſſuring me I ſhould ſee the
happieſt couple in England; and that, altho'
I had frequently oppoſed his ſyſtem of educa-
tion, I ſhould now be convinced that Arabella,
made as good a houſewife and underſtood the
conduct of her family as well, as if ſhe had
ftudied nothing elſe, and this he was ſure I
would confeſs, if he could prevail with me to
accompany him to her houſe.
On the day following this converſation we: -
fet out together, and in a few hours found
ourſelves at the promiſed ſpot: As I remem-.
bered this fine old manfion in the days of its
primitive fimplicity, when I was uſhered to
its gate through a ſolemn avenue of branching
elms, that arched over head in lofty foliage,
and formed an approach in perfect uniſon with
the ancient faſhion of the place, I muſt own I
was much revolted to find that Sir Theodore
had begun his improvements with a ſpecimen
IQ


32 THE OBSERVER. N' 4.
of his father's art, by cutting an old coat into
a new fashion: My favorite avenue no longer
exifted; the venerable tenants of the foil were
rooted up, and a parcel of dotted clumps,
compoſed of trumpery Thrubs, ſubſtituted in
their places; I was the more diſguſted, when
I perceived that by the nonſenſical zigzaggery
of the road, through which we meandered, I
was to keep company with theſe new-falhion-
ed upſtarts through as many parallels, as would
ferve for the regular approaches to a citadel.
At one of theſe turnings however I caught
the glimpſe of a well-drelled gentleman ſtand-
ing in a very becoming attitude, who I con-
cluded muſt be the maſter of the manſion
waiting our approach; and as I perceived he
had his hat under his arm, expecting us with
great politene's and civility, I inſtantly took
mine from my head, and called to our driver
to stop the carriage, for that I perceived Sir
Theodore was come out to meet us. My
companion was at this time exceedingly buſy
in directing my attention to the beauties of
his fon-in-law's improvements, ſo that I had
Hopped the chaile before he obſerved what
I was looking at, but how was I ſurprized
to find, in place of Sir Theodore, a leader
ftatue


N°4. THE OBSERVER. 33
ftatue on a pair of ſcates painted in a blue and
gold coat, with a red waiſtcoat, whoſe perſon
upon cloſer examination I recollected to have
been acquainted with ſome years ago amongſt
the elegant group, which a certain celebrated
artiſt exhibits to the amuſement of ſtage-coach-
es and country waggons upon their entrance
into town at Hyde-park Corner ! I was happy
to find that this ridiculous miſtake, inſtead of
embarraſſing my friend, occaſioned infinite
merriment, and was conſidered as ſo good a
joke by all the family upon our arrival, that I am
perſuaded it was in the mind of the improver
when he placed him there ; for the jeſt was
followed up by ſeveral other party-coloured
perſonages caſt to the life, gentlemen and
ladies, who were airing themſelves upon pe-
deſtals to the no ſmall delight of my compa-
nion; and though moſt of theſe witticiſms in
lead were of the comic caſt, one group, of a
mountebank in the act of drawing an old wom
man's tooth, was calculated to move the con-
trary paſſion; and this I obſerved was the laſt
in the company, ſtanding in view from the
windows of the houſe, as the moral of the fa.
ble. We now entered a Chineſe fence thro'
VOL. I.
D
a gate


34 THE OBSERVER. N° 4.
a gate of the ſame faſhion, to the ſide of which
was affixed a board, on which I obſerved at
ſome diſtance a writing in fair characters;
this I ſuſpected to be ſome claſſical text, which
my Lady had ſet up to impreſs her viſiters
with a due reſpect for her learning, but upon
a near approach I found it contained a warn-
ing to all interlopers, that men-traps and
ſpring-guns were concealed in thoſe walks.
In this dangerous defile we were encoun-
tered by a ſervant in livery, who was diſpatch-
ed in great haſte to ſtop our driver, and defire
us to alight, as the gravel was newly laid
down, and a late Thower had made it very
ſoft; my friend readily obeyed the arreſt, but
I confeſs the denunciation of traps and guns
was fo formidable to my mind, that I took no
Atep but with great circumſpection and fore-
calt, for fear I was trcading on a mine, or
touching a ſpring with my foot, and was hear-
tily glad, when I found myſelf on the ſteps,
though even theſe I examined with ſome ſuf-
picion before I truſted myſelf upon them.
As we entered the houſe, my friend the
merchant whiſpered me, that we were now in
my Lady's regions; all without doors was Sir
2
Theodore's


36 THE OBSERVER. N° 5.
ſecond my ſuit; the conſequence of which was
a ſmart reprimand, accompanied with one of
thoſe expreſive looks, which ladies of high
prerogative in their own houſes occaſionally
beſtow to huſbands under proper ſubjection,
and I ſaw with pity the poor gentleman diſ-
patched for his officiouſneſs upon a freczing
crrand through a great hall, to ſee that things
were ſet in order, and make report, when they
were ready. I could not help giving my friend
the merchant a ſignificant look upon this occa-
fion; but hc prudently kept ſilence,' waiting with
great reſpect the drcadful order of march.
My Lady now introduced me to the athle.
tic philoſopher in the elbow-chair, who con-
defcended to relax one half of his features into
a ſmile, and with a gracious waving of his
hand, or rather fift, diſmiſſed me back again
to my feat without uttering a fyllable. She
then informed me, that ſhe had a treat to give
me, which ſhe Aattered herſelf would be a feaſt
entirely to my palate ; I aſſured her Ladyſhip
I was always happieſt to take the family-din-
ner of my friends, adding that in truth the
ſharp air had ſufficiently whetted my appetite
to recommend much humbler fare, than I was
likely to find at her table. She ſmiled at this,
and


N° 5. THE OBSERVER. 37
and told me it was the food of the mind that
ſhe was about to provide for me; ſhe under-
took for nothing elſe ; culinary concerns were
not her province; if I was hungry, ſhe hoped
there would be ſomething to eat, but for her
part ſhe left the care of her kitchen to thoſe
who lived in it. Whilft ſhe was ſaying this
methought the philoſopher gave her a look,
that ſeemed to ſay he was of my way of think-
ing; upon which ſhe rung the bell, and order-
ed dinner to be held back for an hour, ſaying
to the philoſopher ſhe thought we might have
a Canto in that time. .
She now pauſed for ſome time, fixing her
eyes upon him in expectation of an anſwer;
but none being given, nor any ſignal of aſſent,
The roſe, and, obſerving that it woi ſurprizing
to think what Sir Theodore could be about all
this while, for ſhe was fure The Apollo muſt be
ready, without more delay bade us follow her;
Come, Şir, ſays ſhe to me, as I paſſed the great
hall with an aking heart and chattering teeth,
you ſhall now have a treat in your own taſte;
and, meeting one of the domeftics by the
way, bade him tell Calliope to come into The
Apollo.
When I ſet my foot into the room, I was
D 3
immedi-


38 THE OBSERVER. N° 5.
immediately ſaluted by ſomething like one of
thofe ungenial breezes, which travellers in-
form us have the faculty of putting an end to
life and all its cares at a ſtroke: A fire indeed
had been lighted, which poor Sir Theodore
was ſoliciting into a blaze, working the bel-
lows with might and main to little purpofe ;
for the billets were ſo wet, that Apollo himſelf
with all his beams would have been foiled to
ſet them in a flame : The honeſt gentleman
had taken the precaution of opening all the
windows, in ſpite of which no atom of ſmoke
paſſed up the chimney, but came curling into
the room in columns as thick, as if a hecatomb
had been offering to the ſhrine of Delphi ; in-
deed this was not much to be wondered at,
for I ſoon diſcovered that a board had been
fixed acroſs the Aue of the chimney, which Sir
Theodore in his attention to the bellows had
neglected to obſerve: I was again the unhap-
py cauſe of that poor gentleman's unmerited
rebuke, and in terms much ſeverer than be-
fore; it was to no' purpoſe he attempted to
bring Sufan the houſe-maid in for ſome ſhare
of the blame; his plea was diſallowed; and
though I muſt own it was not the moſt man-
ly defence in the world, yet, confidering the
unhappy
a
'


N°5. THE OBSERVER. 39
unhappy culprit as the ſon of a taylor, I
thought it not entirely inadmiſſible.
When the ſmoke cleared up I diſcovered
a caſt of the Belvidere Apollo on a pedeſtal
in a niche at the upper end of the room ; but,
if we were to judge by the climate, this cham-
ber muſt have derived its name from Apollo,
by the rule of lucus a non lucendo : As ſoon as
we were ſeated, and Lady Thimble had in
ſome degree compoſed her ſpirits, ſhe began to
tell me, that the treat ſhe had to give me was
the rehearſal of part of an epic poem, writ-
ten by a young lady of ſeventeen, who was a
miracle of genius, and whoſe talents for com-
poſition were ſo extraordinary, that the had
written a treatiſe on female education, whilſt
ſhe was at the boarding-ſchool, which all the
world allowed to be a wonderful work for one
of ſuch an early age. There was no eſcape,
for Calliope herſelf now entered the room, and
dinner was put back a full hour for the luxury
of hearing a canto of a boarding-ſchool girl's
epic poem read by herſelf in the preſence of
Apollo. The Scottish philoſopher had pru-
dently kept his poſt by the parlour fire, and
I alone was ſingled out as the victim ; Sir
Theodore and his father-in-law being conſi-
dered
D 4


40 THE OBSERVER. N° 5.
dered only as expletives to fill up the audi-
ence. Calliope was enthroned in a chair at
the pedeſtal of Apollo, whilſt Lady Thimble
and I took our feats oppoſite to the reader.
I was now to undergo an explanation of
the ſubject matter of this poem ; this was un-
dertaken and performed by Lady Thimble,
whilſt the young poeteſs was adjuſting her
manuſcript: The ſubject was allegorical; the
title was The Triumph of Reaſon, who was the
hero of the piece; the inferior characters were
the human paſſions perſonified; each paſſion
occupied à canto, and the lady had already
diſpatched a long liſt; if I rightly remember
we were to hear the fourteenth canto; in thir-
teen actions the hero Reaſon' had been victo-
rious, but it was exceedingly doubtful how he
would come off in this, for the antagoniſt he
had to deal with was no leſs à perſonage than
almighty Love himſelf: The metre was heroic,
and many of the thoughts diſplayed a juvenile
fancy and wild originality; the action was not
altogether unintereſting, nor ill-managed, and
victory for a while was held in fufpence by a
wound the hero received from an arrow ſome.
where in the region of the heart; for this
wound he could obtain no cure, till an ancient
phyſician,


No 5. THE OBSERVER. 41
phyſician, after many experiments for his relief,
cut out the part affected with his ſcythe : Upon
the whole the poem was ſuch, that had it not
been allegorical, and had not I been cold and
hungry, I could have found much to com-
mend and ſome things to admire, even tho'
the poeteſs had been twice as old and not half
ſo handſome, for Calliope was extremely pret-
ty, and I could plainly diſcover that nature
meant her to be moſt amiable and modeſt, if,
Aattery and falſe education would have ſuffer-
ed her good deſigns to have taken place; I
therefore looked upon her with pity, as I do
on all ſpoilt children; and when her reading
was concluded, did not beſtow all that praiſe,
which, if I had conſulted my own gratification
more than her good, I certainly ſhould have
beſtowed; the only occaſion, on which I think
it a point of conſcience to practiſe the philo-
ſophy of the Dampers.
At length dinner was announced, and being
a part of Lady Thimble’s domeſtic oeconomy,
which ſhe had put out of her own hands, as
ihe, informed us, and in which I ſuſpect the
athletic philoſopher had ſomething to ſay, it
was plentifully ſerved. Sir Theodore and my
friend the merchant plied him pretty briſkly
with


42 THE OBSERVER. N° 5.
with the bottle ; but as a ſtately firſt-rate ſhip
does not condeſcend to open her ports to the
petty cruiſers that preſume to hail her, in like
manner this gigantic genius kept the oracle
within him muzzled, nor condeſcended once
to draw the tompion of his lips, till it happen-
ed in the courſe of many topics, that Lady
Thimble, ſpeaking of the talents of Calliope,
obſerved that miracles were not ceaſed : How
ſhould that thing be ſaid to ceaſe, replied the
oracle, which never had exiſtence? The ſpring
was now touched, that put this vaſt machine
in motion, and, taking infidelity in miracles
for his text, he carried us, in the courſe of a
long uninterrupted harangue, through a ſeries
of learned deductions, to what appeared his
grand defideratum, viz. an abſolute refutation
of the miracles of Chrift by proofs logical and
hiſtorical. Whilſt this diſcourſe was going on,
I was curious to obſerve the different effects it
had on the company: Lady Thimble received
it with evident marks of triumph, ſo that I
could plainly ſee all was goſpel with her, and
the only goſpel ſhe had faith in : Sir Theodore
wiſely fell aſleep; the merchant was in his
compting-houſe,
6 His


Nº 5. THE OBSERVER. 43
.“ His mind was toſſing on the ocean :
“ There, where his argolies with portly fail,
“ Like Seigniors and rich Burghers on the flood,
“ Or as it were the pageants of the ſea,
“ Did overpeer the petty traffickers--"
But all this while the young unſettled thoughts
of Calliope were viſibly wavering, ſometimes
borne away by the ipſe dixit of the philoſopher
and the echo of Lady Thimble's plaudits;
ſometimes catching hold of Hope, and hang-
ing to the anchor of her falvation, Faith ; at
other times without reſiſtance carried down
the tide of declamation, which rolled rapidly
along in provincial dialect, like a torrent from
his native Highland craggs, rough and noiſy;
I ſaw her ſtruggles with infinite concern; the
ſavage ſaw them alſo, but with triumph, and,
turning his diſcourſe upon the breach he had
made in her belief, preſſed the advantage he
had gained with deviliſh addreſs; in ſhort a
new antagoniſt had ſtarted up, more formi-
dable to Reaſon than all the fourteen, from
whoſe attack ſhe had brought her hero off
with victory; and that champion, which had
reſiſted the arrows of all-powerful Love, was
likely now to fall a victim to the peftilential
breath of Infidelity. In this dilemma I was
doubtful


44 THE OBSERVER. N° 5.
doubtful how to act; I did not decline the
combat becauſe I dreaded the ſtrength of this
Goliah of the Philiſtines, for I knew the wea-
pons might be confided in, which the great
captain of ſalvation had put into my hands;
but I diſdained to plead before a prejudiced
tribunal, in which the miſtreſs of the manſion
fat as judge ; and as ſleep had ſecured one of
the company out of harm's way, and another
was upon an excurſion from which I did not
wiſh to bring him home, there remained only
Calliope, and I determined within myſelf to
take occaſion of diſcourſing with her apart,
before I left the houſe next morning.
N• VI.
T HAD reſolved to have ſome converſation
I with Calliope' after the athletic philofo-
pher's harangue againſt the evidences of the
Chriſtian religion : I was at the pains of put-
ting my thoughts together in writing before I
went to bed, for I judged it beſt to give them
to Calliope in ſuch a form, às ſhe might here-
after at any time refer to and examine.
I had


Nº 6. THE OBSERVER. 45
I had the ſatisfaction of an hour's .conver-
fation with that young lady next morning,
before the family had aſſembled for breakfaſt :
I could obſerve that ſomething dwelt upon her
mind, and demanding of her if I was not right
in my conjecture, ſhe anſwered me at once to
the point without heſitation_“I confefs to
“you,” ſays ſhe, “ that the diſcourſe which
“Dr. Mac-Infidel yeſterday held, has made
“me thoroughly unhappy; things, which are
“ above reaſon, I can readily ſuppoſe are myſtem
“ries, which I ought to admit as matter of
« faith in religion; but things contrary to rea-
“ſon, and facts which hiſtory confutes how am
“ I to believe? What am I to do in this caſe ?
“ Have you any thing to oppoſe to his argu-
“ment? If you have, I ſhould be happy to
“hear it; if you have not, I pray you let us
« talk no more upon the ſubject.”-I then gave
the paper into her hand, which I had pre-
pared, and explaining to her the reaſons I had
for not taking up the diſpute before our com-
pany yeſterday, deſired her to give my paper
a ſerious reading ; if there was any thing in it,
that laid out of the courſe of her ſtudies, I
would gladly do my beſt to expound it, and
would thew her the authorities to which it
referred:


46 THE OBSERVER. N° 6.
referred: She received my paper with the beſt
grace in the world, and promiſed me that ſhe
would conſider it with all the attention ſhe
was miſtreſs of.
In our further diſcourſe it chanced, that I
let drop ſome expreſſions in commendation of
her underſtanding and talents, upon which I
obſerved ſhe gave me a very expreſſive look,
and when I would have ſpoken of her poem,
ſhe ſhook her head, and, haſtily interrupting
me, deſired I would ſpare her on that ſubject;
The did not wiſh to be any more flattered in a
folly ſhe had too much cauſe to repent of;
ſhe had burnt the odious poem I was ſpeaking
of, and, burſting ſuddenly into a flood of tears,
proteſted ſhe would never be guilty of writing
another line of poetry, while ſhe lived.
No words of mine can paint the look and
action, which accompanied theſe expreſſions ;
much leſs can I deſcribe the ſtroke of pity and
ſurprize, which her emotion gave me. It was
evident ſhe alluded to ſomething that had oc-
curred ſince the reading of the poem; I re-
collected ſhe was abſent all the latter part of
the evening, and I felt an irreſiſtible propenfity
to enquire into the cauſe of her affliction, tho'
the ſhortneſs of our acquaintance gave me no
right


Nº 6. THE OBSERVER. 47
right to be inquiſitive; ſhe ſaw my difficulty,
for her intuition is very great; after a ſhort
recollection, which I did not attempt to in-
terrupt_“I know not how it is,” ſays ſhe,
“but ſomething tells me I am ſpeaking to a
“ friend.”— Here ſhe pauſed, as doubting
whether the ought to proceed or not, and
fixed her eyes upon the floor in evident em-
barraſſment , it will readily be ſuppoſed I
ſeized the opportunity to induce her to con-
fide in me, if there was any ſervice I could
render towards alleviating the diſtreſs ſhe was
evidently ſuffering—“I have no right to trou-
“ble you,” ſays ſhe, “ but that fatal argu-
“ment I heard laſt night has ſo weakened the
“ reſource, to which my mind in all afflictions
“ would elſe have naturally applied, that I re-
« ally know not how to ſupport myſelf, nor
r where to look for comfort, but by throwing
“ myſelf upon your friendſhip for advice, as
“ the moſt unhappy of all beings. You muſt
“ know I have the honour to be the daughter
s of that gallant ſea officer Captain ,"
Here ſhe named an officer, who will be ever
dear to his country, ever deplored by it, and
whoſe friendſhip is at once the joy and the
amiction of my life. I ſtarted from my ſeat;
the


48 THE OBSERVER. N° 6.
the ſtroke I felt, when ſhe pronounced a name
ſo rooted in my heart, was like the ſhock of
electricity; I claſped her hands in mine, "and
preſſing them exclaimed 'You have a father'
-here I ſtopt-the recollection checked me
from proceeding - for it was falſe.—No, no,
“my child,' I ſaid, you have no father! nor
had he a friend, who can replace your loſs;
however, pray proceed.'-" Implicitly,” re-
plied Calliope, (for by that name I ſtill muft
beg to call her, though that and poetry are
both renounced for ever.) “ As you are the
« friend of my father, you muſt know that he
" loft my mother, when I was an infant; two
« years are now paſſed ſince he periſhed; a
“ miſerable period it has been to me; I am
“ now under the protection of a diſtant rela-
« tion, who is an intimate of the lady of this
“houſe, and one whoſe ruinous flattery jointly
" with Lady Thimble's, has conſpired to turn
« my wretched head, and blaſt the only hope
“ of happineſs I had in life: Theſe learned
“ ladies, as they would be thought, put me
“ upon ſtudies I was never fitted to, gave me
“ this filly naine Calliope, and never ceaſed
“iniaming my vanity, till they perſuaded me
“ I had a talent for poetry: In this they were
« affifted


No 6. THE OBSERVER 49
« affifted by Mac-Infidel, who lives in great
« intimacy with Lady Thimble ; the adulation
< of a learned man, (for that he ſurely is,) in-
“toxicated me with ſelf-opinion, and the gra-
“vity of his character compleated the folly
« and deſtruction of mine.” “What do I
"hear,' ſaid I, interrupting her, the deſtruc-
tion of your character?'-" Have patience,"
ſhe replied ; « when I diſcloſe the forrows. of
“my heart, you will own that my deſtruction
« is compleat.”—Melancholy as theſe words
were, the deduction notwithſtanding that I
drew from them was a relief, compared to what
at firſt I apprehended.“ Alas! Sir," reſumed
Calliope, “I have loſt the affections of the moſt
« amiable, the moſt beloved of men: He was
“my father's darling, and from a boy was edu-
« cated by him in the profeſſion of the ſea; he
“ſhared every ſervice with my father except
« the laſt fatal one, in which your friend un-
“happily was loſt; Providence, that ordained
“ the death of the one, has in the ſame period
“ enriched the other ; he is lately returned from
“the Weſt Indies, and by his duty has been
“confined to the port he arrived in, ſo that
« we have not met ſince his return to Eng-
“ land: Here is the firſt letter he wrote to me
VOL. I.
“ from


50 THE OBSERVER. N° 6.
« from Plymouth; read it, I befeech you, and
# then compare it with the fatal one I receive
< ed laſt night.” Calliope put a letter into my
hands, and I read as follows...!
• “MY DEAREST NANCY!.. .
" I have this inſtant brought my frigate to
« an anchor, and ſeize the firft moment, that
“my duty permits, to tell the lovelieft of her
“ ſex, that I have luckily come acroſs a prizes.
« that makes a man of me for life ; A man
“ did I fay? Yes, and the happieſt of men, if
my dear girl is ſtill true, and will conſent to
“ fhare the fortune of her faithful Henry.
“ I cannot leave Plymouth this fortnight,
* therefore pray write to me under cover to-
"my friend the Admiral. Yours ever,
i « HENRY CONSTANT.".
When I had returned this letter to Cal-
liope, the refumed her narrative in the follow-
ing words: “The joy this letter gave me ſet
“ my ſpirits in fuch a Aow, that in the habit I
« was of writing verfes, I could not bring my
“ thoughts to run in humble profe, but giving
“ the reins to my fancy filled at leaſt fix fides
“ with rhapſodies in verfe ; and not content
“ with this, and fooliſhly conceiving that my
“poem would appear at leaſt, as charming to
"Henry,


Sa THE OB SERVER. Nº 6.
“ hopes are gone. My ignorance would only
« diſgrace you, and your wit would make me
" contemptible; ſince you are turned poeteſs,
“ how can my ſociety be agreeable? If thoſe
« verſes you have ſent me are all of your own
“ making, you muſt have done little elſe ſince
“ we parted, and if ſuch are to be your ſtudies
« and occupations, what is to become of all
« the comforts of a huſband ? How are you
« to fulfil the duties of a mother, or manage
“ the concerns of a family? No, no; may
« heaven defend me from a learned wife! I
« am too proud to be the butt of my own
“ table; too accuſtomed to command, to be
“ eaſily induced to obey; let me ever live a
“ſingle man, or let the wife I chuſe be mo-
“ deft, unpretending, ſimple, natural in her
“manners, plain in her underſtanding ; let
“ her be true as the compaſs I ſail by, and
“ (pardon the coarſeneſs of the alluſion) obea
“ dient to the helm as the ſhip I ſteer; then,
“ Nancy, I will ſtand by my wife, as I will
6 by my ſhip, to the lateſt moment I have
« to breathe. For God's fake what have wo:
! men to do with learning? But if they will
“ ſtep out of their own profeſſion and write
“ verſes,


N.6. THE OBSERVER. 53,
6 verſes, do not let them ſtep into ours to
“ chuſe huſbands; we ſhall prove coarſe mellm.
“mates to the muſes.
“I underſtand ſo much of your poetical
epiſtle, as to perceive that you are in the fa-
“mily of Sir Theodore and Lady Thimble:
“ Three days of ſuch fociety 'would make
« me forſwear matrimony for ever: To the
« daughter of my friend I muſt for ever ſpeak
" and act as a friend; ſuffer me then to aſk if
« any man in his ſenſes will chuſe a wife from
“ ſuch a ſchool? Oh grief to think! that one
« ſo natural, ſo fincere and unaffected as was
« my Nancy, could be the companion of ſuch
" an ugly petticoated pedant as Lady Thim-
* ble, ſuch a tame hen-pecked ſon of a taylor
« as. Sir Theodore !.
« As for the volume of verſes you have fent
« me, I dare ſay it is all very fine, but I
« really do not comprehend three lines of it;
the battles you deſcribe are what I never
« faw by ſea or land, and the people who fight
“them ſuch as I have never been actuſtomed
« to ſerve with; one gentleman I perceive
" there is, who combats ftoutly againſt Love;
Ky it is a good moral, and I thank you for it;
.. ja 3. “coft


56 THE OBSERVER: Nº 6.
« coſt what it may, I will do my beſt to imi-
“ tate your hero. Farewell.
“I muſt be only your moſt faithful friend,
“ HENRY CONSTANT.”
Nº VII.
illagnum iter ad doftas proficiſci cogor Athenas.
(PROPERT.)
T WAS agreeably ſurprized the other day
1 with an unexpected viſit from a country
friend, who once made a conſiderable figure
in the faſhionable world, and, with an elegant
taſte for the fine arts, is poſſeſt of many valu-
able paintings and ſculptures of his own col-
lecting in Italy: He told me, that after fix
years abſence from town, he had made a jour-
ney purpoſely to regale' his curioſity for a few
days with the ſpectacles of this great capital,
and deſired 'I would accompany him on his
morning's tour to ſome of the eminent artiſts,
and afterwards conduct him to the theatre,
where he had ſecured himſelf a ſeat for the re-
preſentation of Mr. Southern's tragedy of the
Fatal


N°7. THE OBSERVER. 55
Fatal Marriage. Though I had juſt been
honoured with a card from Vaneſſa, purport-
ing that the ſhould hold The Feajt of Reafon
that evening at her houſe, where my company
was expected, I did not heſitate to accept the
invitation of my country friend, and excuſe
myſelf from that of Vaneſſa, though I muſt
confefs my curioſity was fomewhat rouſed by
the novelty of the entertainment to which I
was bidden. Our day paſſed fo entirely to the
fatisfaction of my candid companion, that,
when we parted at night, he took me by the
hand, and with a ſmile of complacency de.
elared, that a day fo ſpent would not diſgrace
the diary of Pericles..
: )
When I had returned to my apartment,
this alluſion of my friend to the age of Periz
cles, with the recollection of what had paſſed
in the day, threw me into a reverie, in the
courſe of which I fell aſleep, whilft my mind
with more diftinctneſs than is ufual in dream,
ing, purſued its waking train of thought after
the following manner. a '.
" I found myſelf in a ſtately portico, which
being on an eminence, gave me the proſpect
of a city, incloſing a prodigious circuit, with
groves, gardens and fields, ſeemingly ſet apart
E 4
for


56 THE OBSERVERNo mi
for martial exerciſes and ſports; the houſes
were not cluſtered into ſtreets and alleys like
our great trading towns, but were placed
apart and ſeparated without any regular order,
as if each man had therein conſulted his own
particular taſte and enjoyments. I thought I
never ſaw ſo delightful a place, nor a people
who lived ſo much at their eaſe : I felt-a
freſhneſs and falubrity in the climate, that
ſeemed to clear the brain, and give a ſpring
to the ſpirits and whole animal frame: The
fun was bright and glowing, but the lightneſs
of the atmoſphere and a refreſhing breeze
qualified the heat in the moſt delicious man-
ner. As I looked about me with wonder and
delight, I obſerved a great many edifices of
the pureſt architecture, that ſeemed calculated
for public purpoſes ; and wherever my eye
went, it was encountered by a variety of ſta-
tues in braſs or marble ; immediately at the
foot of the ſteps, leading to the portico, in
which I ſtood, I obſerved a figure in braſs of
exquiſite workmanſhip, which by its attributes
I believed deſigned to repreſent the heathen
deity Mercurius. In the centre of the city
there was an edifice incloſed within walls,
which I took to be the citadel ; a rapid ſtream


N° 7. THE OBSERVER. 57
of clear water meandered about the place, and
was trained through groves and gardens in
the moſt pictureſque and pleaſing manner,
while the proſpect at diſtance was bounded by
the ſea.
“ As I ſtood wrapt in contemplation of this
new and brilliant ſcenery; methought I was
accofted by a middle-aged man in a looſe
garment of fine purple, who wore his hair
after the manner of our ladies, braided and
coiled round upon the crown of his head with
great care and delicacy to a conſiderable
heighth ; and (which I thought remarkable)
he had faſtened the braids in ſeveral places
with golden pins, on which were ſeveral figures
of ſmall graſhoppers of the ſame metal; be-
hind him walked a ſervant-youth, or ſlave,
carrying a light wicker chair for his maſter to
repoſe in, a cuſtom that ſeemed to me to
argue great effeminacy; and looking about
me I found it was pretty.univerſal, many of
the bettermoſt ſort of citizens being ſeated in
the ſtreets, converſing at their eaſe, though
there was certainly nothing in the climate,
that made fuch an indulgence neceſſary.
“ As I was eyeing this gentleman with a ſur-
prize, that I muſt own had ſome ſmall tincture
of .


58 THE OBSERVER. N.
of contempt in it, he turned himſelf to me,
and in the moft complaiſant manner imagin-
able accoſted me in my own language, telling
me, he perceived I was a ſtranger in Athens,
and if I was curious to ſee what was remark-
able in the place, he was ready to dedicate the
day to my ſervice. To this courteous addreſs
I returned the beſt anſwer I was able, adding
that every thing was new to me and many
things appeared admirable. You will ſay ſo,
replied he, before the day is paſt, and yet I
caunot Mew you in the ſpace of a day the
hundredth part of what this city contains
worth a ſtranger's obfervation: Of a certain
Arts and Sciences are now carried to their
utmoſt pitch, and no future age I think will
fucceed, in which the glory of the Athenian
cóminonwealth, and the genius of its citizens
Thall be found ſuperior to their preſent luftre.
« The portico, in which you ſtand, conti-
nued the Athenian, is what we call Pæcile,
or the painted Portico; the brazen ſtatue at
the foot of the ſteps was raiſed by the nine
Archons in honour of Mercurius Agoraus, or
the Forenſal; and dedicated by them to the
tribes : That hy its fide is the ſtatue of Solon,
the other at ſome diſtance is the lawgiver
Lycurgus.


N° 7. THE OBSERVER. 59
Lycurgus. The gate before you, on which
you ſee thoſe warlike trophies, was ſo adorned
in memory of the defeat of Pliſtarchus, who
was brother of the famous Caſſander, and
commanded his cavalry and auxiliary troops
in the action recorded. Theſe paintings be-
hind you, with which the portico is furniſhed
and from which it has its name, are all upon
public ſubjects in commemoration of wiſe
or valiant citizens : The pictures on your
right hand are by the celebrated Polygnotus,
theſe on your left by Micon, equal to his rival
in art, but not in munificence; for Polygnotus
would accept no other reward for his works,
than the fame inſeparable from ſuch eminent
performances ; Micon on the contrary was
paid by the ſtate. There are feveral others
by the hands of our great maſters, particular-
ly that incomparable piece, which repreſents
the field of Marathon, a compofition by the
great Panænus, brother of the ſtatuary Phi-
dias ; but this, as well as the others, will de-
mand a more particular deſcription.
“ Examine this compoſition on your right;
it is the work of Polygnotus; you fee two
armies drawn up front · to front and on the
point of engaging; thefe are the Athenians,
the


No 7. THE OBSERVER. 61
ken offence at it, but great painters will in-
dulge themſelves in theſe liberties, and are
fond of painting after beautiful nature; of
which I could give you innumerable exam-
ples.
“Now let us in the laſt place regale our
eyes with this ineſtimable battle of Marathon
by Panænus: What think you of it? Was it
not a reward worthy of the heroes, who pre-
ſerved their country on that glorious day?
Which party is moſt honoured by the work,
the maſter who wrought it, or the valiant per-
ſonages who are recorded by it? It is a queſ-
tion difficult to decide. You will obſerve
three different groups in this fuperb com-
poſition, deſcribing three different periods of
the action: Here you ſee the Athenians and
their allies the Platæans juſt commencing the
action.—There, further removed in perſpec-
tive, the barbarians are defeated; the ſlaughter
is raging, and the Medes are plunging deſpe-
rately into the marſhy lake to avoid their pur-
fuers; examine the back ground, and you
ſee the Phænician gallies; the barbarians are
making a bold attack, and the ſea is covered
with wrecks : All mouths are open in applauſe
of this picture, and it was but the other day,
that


62 THE OBSERVER. N° 7.
that the great orator Demoſthenes referred to
it in a ſolemn harangue upon Neæra, as did
Eſchines in his pleading againſt Cteſiphon.
All our Captains are taken from the life; that
General who is encouraging his troops is
Miltiades; he is the hero of the piece, and I
can aſſure you the reſemblance is in all points
exact: This is the portrait of Callimachus
the Polemarck: There you ſee the hero
Echetlus, and this is the brave Epizelus;
that Athenian, who is valiantly fighting, is
Cynægirus himſelf, who loſt both his hands
in the action; there goes an extraordinary
ſtory with that dog, which is by his fide, and
has ſeized the dying barbarian by the throat; the
faithful creature would not forſake his maſter;
he was killed in the action, and is now de-
ſervedly immortalized in company with the
illuſtrious heroes, who are the ſubject of the
piece. Thoſe ſplendid warriors in the army
of the Medes, who are ſtanding in their cha-
riots, and calling to their troops, are the ge-
nerals Datis and Artaphanes. They are drawn
in a proud and ſwelling ſtile, and feem of a
larger ſize and proportion than our Athenian
champions; and the fact is, that this group
was inſerted by another maſter; they are by
the


N°7: THE OBSERVER. 63
the hand of Micon, and perhaps do not exact-
ly harmonize with the reſt; the ſilly Atheni-
ans were piqued at their appearance, and in a
fit of jealouſy puniſhed Micon by a fine for
having painted them too flatteringly; the
painter fuffered in his pocket, but the people
in my opinion were diſgraced by the ſentence:
This circumftance has given occaſion for ma-
ny on the part of Micon to conteſt the honour
of the painting with Panænus, who in juſtice
muſt be conſidered as principal author of the
work; and in courſe of time it may happen,
that poſterity will be puzzled which maſter to
aſcribe it to.
« There are many more pictures well de-
ferving your attentive notice, particularly that
by Pamphilus, which repreſents Alcmena with
the Heraclidæ aſking aid of the Athenians
againſt Euryſtheus; and this inſpired old figure
by Polygnotus with a lyre in his hand, which
is the portrait of no leſs a perſon than the
great Sophocles ;-but come, let us be gone,
for we have much beſides to ſee; and I pera
ceive Zeno coming this way with his ſcholars
to hold his lectures in this portico; and I for
one muſt confeſs I am no friend to the Stoics,
or as we call them the Zenonians.
NO VIII.
hold his comina selides to


64 THE OBSERVER. No 8.
Nº VIII.
Ad vetuftiffimam et ſapientiffimam et diis cariſi-
mam et communem amafiam, hominumque ac
· Deorum terram, Athenas mittebaris.
(LIBANIUS IN ORATIONE.)
ROM the painted portico, in which
T my laſt was dated, my Athenian con-
ductor took me to the Ptolemaic Gymnaſium,
in which I obſerved ſeveral ftatues of Mercury
in marble, and others of braſs, which he ex-
plained to me to be of Ptolemy the founder,
Juba and Chryfippus the philoſopher. There
was one of Beroſus the aſtrologer with a
tongue of pure gold, in commemoration of
his divine predictions : On one hand of me
ſtood the doric temple of Theſeus, enriched
with ſome ineſtimable paintings of Micon,
particularly one upon the ſubject of the fight
of the Lapithæ and Centaurs : on the other
hand was the antient temple of the Dioſcuri, in
which I was fewn many capital pictures by
Polygnotus; it is here, ſays my conductor, we
adminiſter to the Athenian youth that folemn
oath, which binds thein not to deſert their
ranks


No 8. THE OBSERVER. 65
ranks in action, but to periſh, when neceſſity fo
requires, in defence of their country; the form
is rather long, ſays he, but this is the ſubſtance
of the oath. The Prytaneum, or Court-houſe,
was now in view, where the magiſtracy of the
city aſſemble for the diſpatch of public buſineſs :
Here I ſaw the venerable laws of Solon in a cheſt
of ſtone, the ſtatues of Pax 'and Vefta, and
(which were more intereſting to me) the figures
of Miltiades and Themiſtocles of exquiſite
workmanſhip in pure marble; in this place all
thoſe citizens, and the poſterity of thoſe, who
have deſerved well of the ſtate, receive their
public doles or allowance of bread in cakes com-
poſed of meal; oil, and water ; here alſo I ſaw
the perpetual fire upon the altar of Veſta, and
the celebrated image of the Bona Fortuna of the
Athenians. In the adjoining temple of Lucina
I was ſhewn the famous ſtatues of that deity
clothed in drapery to the feet: My guide now
carried me to the great temple of Olympian Ju.
piter, founded by the tyrant Pififtratus, and
perfected by his ſons and ſucceſſors; I obſerved to
my conductor, that I had ſeen no temple in
Athens, except this, with interior columns; he
informed me that the great ſpan of the roof
made it neceſſary in this inſtance, but that it
was contrary to their rule of architecture and
VOL. I.
obtained
F


66. THE OBSERVER. N. 8.
obtained in no other : He further told me that
the city had expended ten thouſand talents in
this edifice: The image of the god was cut in
ivory and gold; to every column was affixed a
brazen ſtatue, repreſenting the colonial cities of
the Athenian empire. The diſplay of ſtatuary
exceeded all deſcription or belief, nor was the
painter's art wanting in its ſhare of the decora-
tion; for wherever pictures could be diſpoſed,
and particularly about the pedeſtal of the ſtatue
of Jupiter, the moſt capital paintings were to
be ſeen.'
“My fight was now ſo dazzled with the dif-
play of brilliant images, and my mind fo over-
powered with the miracles of art, which had
paſſed in review, that I befeeched my guide to
carry me either to ſome of thoſe groves, which
were in my eye, where I could meditate on what
I had ſeen, or to ſpectacles of any other ſort ac-
cording to his choice and diſcretion, for other-
wiſe I ſhould apprehend, from the variety of
objects, I Thould retain the memory of none.
He told me in reply, that this was his intention,
obſerving that the proportion I had ſeen was
very ſmall indeed to what the city contained;
there was however one more ftatue, which he
could not diſpenfe with himſelf from fhewing
me, being a model of beauty and perfection; and
having


No 8. THE OBSERVER. 67
having ſo faid methought he took me into a
neighbouring garden, and in a grove of cypreſs
and myrtle preſented to my view the moſt ex-
quiſite piece of ſculpture I had ever beheld.
This, ſays he, is the Venus called Celeſtial, the
workmanſhip of the immortal Alcamen. ---After
I had contemplated this divine original with
aſtoniſhment and rapture, I was ſatisfied within
myſelf, that we are miſtaken in ſuppoſing it has
deſcended to us, and I now acknowledge that
our celeſtial Venus is a copy far inferior to its
inimitable prototype. Having examined this ſta-
tue for ſome time, I turned to my conductor
and ſaid :-Let us gratify our ſenſes in ſome
other way; I have ſeen enough of art.
"It is impoſſible to avoid it, replies he, in
this city, and ſo ſaying led me into the Lyceum;
this Gymnaſium, ſays he, has been lately in-
ſtituted by Pericles, and theſe plantations of
plane-trees are of his making ; ſo are theſe
aqueducts; the Lyceum was originally dedica-
ted to Paſtoral Apollo, and owes its foundation
and beauty in the firſt inſtance to the elegant
Piſiſtratus, who from the ſurpriſing reſemblance
of their perſons we now call the elder Pericles.
The place is delightful, and before you leave it
take notice of this ſtatue of Apollo; the artiſt
has deſcribed him in the attitude of reſting after
F 2
nis


68 THE OBSERVER. No 8.
his daily courſe; you ſee he leans againſt a co-
lumn; his right arm bent over his head, and in
his left he holds his bow; it is a firſt-rate piece
of ſculpture. Leaving the Lyceum my con-
ductor took me by the way of the Tripods ;
here he ſhewed me the inimitable ſatyr in braſs,
the boaſted maſter-piece of Praxiteles, and the
Cupid and Bacchus of Thymilus; we were now
cloſe by the theatre, in the portico of which I
was ſhewn the ſtatue of Eſchylus, and two pe-
deſtals for the ſtatues of Sophocles and Euripides,
then under the artiſts hands, although both thoſe
poéts were now living: The doors of the theatre
were not yet opened, and the temple of Venus
being near at hand, methought we entered, and
I beheld the beautiful Cupid crowned with roſes,
painted by Zeuxis; from hence I could ſee the
works, that Pericles had been carrying on upon
the citadel, but this we did not enter.
.“ Methought I was now carried into the thea-
tre amidſt a prodigious crowd of people; the
comedy of the night was intitled The Clouds, and
the famous Ariſtophanes was announced to be
the author of it. It was expected that Socrates
would be perſonally attacked, and a great party
of that philoſopher's enemies were aſſembled to
ſupport the poet. I was much ſurprized, when
my companion pointed out to me that great phi..
lofopher


No 8. THE OBSERVER. 69
loſopher in perſon, who had actually taken his
ſeat in the theatre, and was ſitting between Al-
cibiades and Antipho the ſon of Pericles; by the
fide of Alcibiades, fate Euripides, and at Anti-
pho’s left hand fate Thucydides ; I never beheld
two more venerable old men than the poet and
hiſtorian, nor ſuch comely perſons as Alcibiades
and Antipho: Socrates was exceedingly like the
bufts we have of him, his head was bald, his
beard buſhy, and his ſtature low; there was
ſomething very deterring in his countenance;
his perſon was mean and his habit fqualid; his
veft was of looſe drapery, thrown over his left
ſhoulder after the faſhion of a Spanith Capa,
and ſeemed to be of coarſe cloth, made of black
wool undyed; he had a ſhort ſtaff in his hand of
knotted wood with a round head, which he was
continually rubbing in the palm of his hand, as
he talked with Alcibiades, to whom he princi-
pally addreſſed his diſcourſe: Thucydides had
lately returned from exile upon a general am-
neſty, and I obſerved a melancholy in his coun-
tenance mixed with indignation; Euripides ſeem-
ed employed in exainining the countenances of
the ſpectators, whilſt Antipho with great modeſty
paid a moſt reſpectful attention to the venerable
philoſopher on his right hand. Whilſt I was
engaged in obſerving this reſpectable group, my
F 3
conductor
1
.
4


no · THE OBSERVER. N° 8.
conductor whiſpered the following words in my
ear-This is the ſecond attack from the ſame hand
upon Socrates; that of laſt year was defeated by
Alcibiades; but if this night's comedy ſucceeds, I
predict that our philoſopher is undone : and in truth
bis ſchool is much out of credit; for ſome of the
worſt characters of the age have come out of his
hands of late.
“ When the players firſt came on the ſtage
there was ſo great a murmur in the theatre,
that I could ſcarce hear them; after a ſhort
time however the ſilence became pretty general,
and the plot of the play, ſuch as it was, began
to open; I perceived that the poet had deviſed
the character of an old clowniſh father, who be-
ing plunged in debt by the extravagancies of a
flanting wife and a ſpendthrift ſon, who waſted
his fortune upon race-horſes, was for ever puz-
zling his brains to ſtrike upon ſome expedient
for cheating his creditors. With this view he
goes to the houſe of Socrates to take counſel of
that philoſopher, who gives him a great many
ridiculous inſtructions, feemingly not at all to
the purpoſe, and amongſt other extravagancies
aſſures him that Jupiter has no concern in the
government of the world, but that all the func-
tions of providence are performed by The Clouds,
which upon his invocation appear and perform
the


No 8. THE OBSERVER. 1
the part of a chorus throughout the play: The
philoſopher is continually foiled by the ruſtic wit
of the old father, who, after being put in Socra-
tes's truckle bed and miſerably ftung with ver-
min, has a meeting with his creditors, and en-
deavours to parry their demands with a parcel
of pedantic quibbles, which he has learnt of the
philofopher, and which give occaſion to ſcenes
of admirable comic humour: My conductor in-
formed me this incident was pointed at Eſchines,
a favorite diſciple of Socrates; a man, ſays he,
plunged in debts and a moſt notorious defrauder
of his creditors. In the end the father brings
his ſon to be inſtructed by Socrates; the fon,
after a ſhort lecture, comes forth a perfect Athe-
iſt, and gives his father a ſevere cudgelling on
the ſtage, which irreverend act he undertakes to
defend upon the principles of the new philoſophy,
he had been learning. This was the ſubſtance
of the play, in the courſe of which there were
many groſs alluſions to the unnatural vice, of
which Socrates was accuſed, and many perſonal
ſtrokes againſt Clifthenes, Pericles, Euripides,
and others, which told ſtrongly, and were much
applauded by the theatre.
“ It is not to be fuppoſed, that all this paffed
without fome occaſional difguſt on the part of
the ſpectators, but it was evident there was a
F 4
party


72 THE OBSERVER. Nº 8.
party in the theatre, which carried it through,
notwithſtanding the preſence of Socrates and the
reſpectable junto that attended him: For my
part I ſcarce ever took my eyes from him during
the repreſentation, and I obſerved two or three
little actions, which ſeemed to give me ſome in-
ſight into the temper of his mind during the le-
vereſt libel, that was ever exhibited againſt any
man's perſon and principles.
« Before Socrates appears on the ſtage, the old
man raps violently at his door, and is reproved
by one of his diſciples, who comes out and com-
plains of the diſturbance; upon his being quer-
tioned what the philoſopher may be then em-
ployed upon, he anſwers that he is engaged in
meaſuring the leap of a flea, to decide how many
of its own lengths it Springs at one hop; the dir,
ciple alſo informs him with great ſolemnity, that
Socrates has diſcovered that the hum of a gnat
is not made by the mouth of the animal, but
from behind : This raiſed a laugh at the ex-
pence of the naturaliſts and minute philoſophers,
and I obſerved that Socrates himſelf ſmiled at
the conceit.
“ When the ſchool was opened to the ſtage
and all his ſcholars were diſcovered with their
heads upon the floor and their poſteriors mount-
ed in the air, and turned towards the audience,
though


Nº 8. THE OBSERVER. 73.
though the poet pretends to account for it, as if
they were ſearching for natural curioſities on the
ſurface of the ground, the action was evidently
intended to convey the grofſeſt alluſion, and was
ſo received by the audience: When this ſcene
was produced I remarked, that Socrates ſhook
his head, and turned his eyes off the ſtage;
whilſt Euripides with ſome indignation threw
the ſleeye of his mantle over his face; this was
obſerved by the ſpectators, and produced a con-
fiderable tumult, in which the theatre ſeemed
pretty fairly divided, ſo that the actors ſtood up-
right, and quitted the poſture they were diſco-
vered in.
“When Socrates was firſt produced ſtanding
on a baſket mounted into the clouds, the perſon
of the actor and the maſk he wore, as well as
the garment he was dreſſed in, was the moſt di-
rect counterpart of the philoſopher himſelf, that
could be deviſed. But when the actor, ſpeaking
in his character, in direct terms proceeded to
deny the divinity of Jupiter, Socrates laid his
hand upon his heart, and caſt his eyes up with
aſtoniſhment; in the ſame moment Alcibiades
ſtarted from his ſeat, and in a loud voice cried
out-Athenians! is this fitting ? Upon this a
great tumult aroſe and very many of the ſpecta-
tors called upon Socrates to ſpeak for himſelf,
Ιο
and


174 THE OBSERVER. N:8.
and anſwer to the charge; when the play could
not proceed for the noiſe and clamour of the
people, all demanding Socrates to ſpeak for him-
felf, the philoſopher unwillingly ftopt forward,
and laid--You require of me, O Athenians, to an-
fwer to the charge; there is no charge; neither is
this a place to diſcourſe in about the gods: Let the
ailor proceed !-Silence immcdiately took place,
and Socratcs's invocation to The Clouds foon en-
ſucd; the paſſage was ſo beautiful, the machinery
of the clouds ſo finely introduced, and the cho-
rus of voices in the air ſo exquiſitely conceived,
that the whole thcatre was in raptures, and the
poct from that moment had entire poflellion of
their minds, ſo that the picce was carried tri-
umphantly to its period. In the heat of the ap-
plauſe my Athenian friend whiſpered me in the
ear and faid-Depend upon it, Socrates will hear
of this in another place; he is a loft man; and re-
member I tell you that if all our philoſophers and
Sophifls were driven out of Milica, it would be happy
for Athens.-At theſe words I Narted and awaked
fiom my dream,
Nº IX,


No 9.
THE OBSERVER,
N° IX.
CALLIOPE has favoured me with the fol-
a lowing letter ; it is dated from the houſe of
a worthy clergyman, a friend of her father's, who
with an exemplary wife lives upon a ſmall coun-
try vicarage in primitive fimplicity, where that
afflicted young lady took ſhelter,
“SIR,
“AFTER you left me at Lady Thimble’s, I
“ ſeized the firſt moment, that the anguiſh of
“ my mind permitted me to make uſe of, to put
“ myſelf in readineſs for taking my final leave of
“ that family, and, according to the plan we had
" concerted, came without delay to this place,
« where, if any thing could have given abſolute
“ peace to my mind, the confolation of theſe ex-
“cellent people, and the ſerenity of the ſcene
“muſt have done it. As it was, I felt my af
« fictions lighten, my ſelf-reproach became leſs
« bitter, and, whilſt the vanity, which flattery
“ had inſpired me with, has been cured by their
« admonitions, the doubts that infidelity had raiſ-
« ed have been totally removed, and truth made
« clear to my eternal comfort and conviction.
“Had it not been for this, I ſhould have been
“ given up to deſpair; for as I heard no more
s from


No 9. THE OBSERVER 77
« ed-No matter, ſhe replied, fall to your work,
“ and do your beſt, like a good girl, for your miſtreſs's
“ credit as well as your own.-The ſignificant
u look, with which ſhe accompanied theſe words,
« ſet my heart into ſuch a flutter, that my hands
“no longer obeyed me in the taſk I undertook,
« till having ſpilt the milk, overthrown the eggs,
« and put every thing into the fame confufion
« with myſelf, I burſt into a flood of tears, which
“ ended in a ſtrong hyſteric fit. My ſcreams
u brought the good man of the houſe and every
" body in it to my aſſiſtance; but judge of my
u condition betwixt joy; aſtoniſhment and ter-
“ ror, when the figure of my beloved Conſtant
“ preſented itſelf to my eyes; My God! he ex-
“ claimed, and ſtarted back aghaft, then ſprung
« to my aſſiſtance, and, claſping me in his arms,
« lifted me at once from the floor and ran with
“ me into the parlour, where there was a couch
«My life! my foul !-- was all he could ſay,
“ for he was like a man beſide himſelf with
“ fright and agony, till I recovered ; this was at
“ laſt effected by a plentiful relief of tears, and
" then I found myſelf alone with my beloved
“ Henry, my head reclined upon his neck, and
“ him ſupporting my whole weight in his arms,
« whilft he knelt on one knee at my feet; no
« ſooner had I regollected myſelf, than the bload,
" that


78 THE OBSERVER. No g.
« that had been driven from my cheeks during
« my fit, ruſhed back again with violence and
“ covered me with bluſhes. Henry's tranſports
« now became as vehement as his terrors had
« been, and looſing his hold of me for a mo-
« ment, whilft he fixed his eyes upon me with
« an ardour, that confounded me ſo as almoſt to
« deprive me of ſpeech or motion, he again
« caught me in his arms, and preſſing me eager- ·
úly to his breaſt, almoſt ſmothered me with
“ careſſes. He then quitted me altogether, and
“ throwing himſelf on his knees at my feet, en-
« treated me to forgive him, if he had offended
« me; he had been diſtracted between joy and
« terror, and ſcarce knew what he had done ;
« he proceeded to account for the motives of his
« conduct towards me, both when he wrote the
“ letter to me from Plymouth, and for every
« moment of his time ſince: That he had fet
« off for London the very day he wrote, had
« fought you out, and converſed fully with you
« upon the effects his letter had produced ; that,
“ hearing I was come to this place, he would
« have followed me with an immediate explana-
« tion, if you had not prevailed with him to the
« contrary (for which advice I cannot now find
« in my heart to condemn you), that however
« he had placed himſelf within two miles of me
a in


No 9. THE OBSERVER. 79
“in a neighbouring village, where he had daily
“ intercourſe with the worthy Vicar, who gave
« him punctual intelligence of the ſtate of my
“mind and the total revolution effected in it;
« that what he ſuffered during this ſtate of trial
“ and ſuſpence no words of his could paint, but
“the accounts he received of me from this good
“ man and the benefits he knew I was gaining,
by his counſel and converſation, kept him
“ from diſcovering himſelf, till he had permiſſion
“ for ſo doing; that he threw himſelf upon my
“ candor and good ſenſe for juſtification in the
“ honeſt artifice he had made uſe of, and now
" that I added to my good qualities thoſe religi-
« ous and domeſtic virtues, which the ſociety
“ of unbelieving pedants had obſcured, but not
“ extinguiſhed, he hoped there was no further
“ bar in the way of our mutual happineſs; but
“ that I would condeſcend to accept a man
“ whoſe heart and ſoul were devoted to me, and
“ who had one recommendation at leaſt to offer
“ in his own behalf, which he fattered himſelf
“ no other perſon could produce, and which he
« was ſure would have ſome weight with me :
“ So ſaying, he put a letter into my hands, which
“ I had no ſooner glanced my eye upon than
“ perceiving it was the well-known hand-writing
" of my ever honoured and lamented father, I
“ funk


No 9. THE OBSERVER. 81
« friend the Vicar undeſignedly threw me into
« a confuſion, that was exceedingly diſtreſſing,
« by repeating ſome verſes from Pope's Eſſay on
“ Man, in which he applied to me to help him
« out in his quotation : I certainly remembered
« the paſſage, and could have ſupplied his me-
« mory with the words ; but Henry being pre-
“ ſent, and the recollection of what had paſſed
" on the ſubject of poetry ruſhing on my mind
« at the ſame time that I thought I ſaw him
“ glance a ſignificant look at me, threw me into
“ ſuch embarraſſment on the ſudden, that in vain
“ endeavouring to evade the ſubject, and being
“ preſſed a little unſeaſonably by the Vicar, my
“ fpirits alſo being greatly futtered by the events
“ of the morning, I could no longer command
“ myſelf, but burſt into tears, and very narrowly
« eſcaped falling into a fecond hyſteric. No.
“thing ever equalled the tenderneſs of Henry
“ on this occaſion; nay I thought I could dif-
“ cover that he was ſecretly pleaſed with the
« event, as it betrayed a conſciouſneſs of former
“ vanities, and ſeemed to prove that I repented
“ of them: Whatever interpretation he might
“put upon it, ſtill I could not bring myſelf to
“repeat the verſes; and believe I ſhall never
« utter another couplet whilſt I live; I am cer-
“ tain I ſhall never inake one.
Vol. I,
~ I inclore


82 IHE OBSERVER. Nog.
-
-- -. -
lineloſe you a copy of my father's letter to
“Henry; And am, Sir, iis ,
« Your ſincere; friend,
s And moſt obliged fervant,
:: :ANNE TIITIT."
- Though the letter, of which my amiable cor-
reſpondent has incloſed a copy, is haſtily written
in the buſtle and hurry of ſervice, yet as it
: breathes the ſentiments of the friend, the father,
and the hero, and as every relick of fo venerable
a character is, in my opinion at leaſt, too precious
not to be preſerved, I ſhall take permiſſion of the
reader to fubjoin it.
.. Dear Harry,
This perverſe wind has at laſt taken Jhame at
.confining ſo many brave fellows in port, and come
about to the eaſt, ſo that we are all in high ſpirits
getting under weigh: The Commiſſioners yacht is
along-ſide and I drop theſe few lines by way of
farewel to aſſure my brave lad, that whether we
meet again, or nots you fall not heat a bad account
of your old ſhipmate, nor with God's bleſſing of his
crew. I think we fall foon come into action, and
that being the caſes d’ye fee; few words and fair-
dealing are beſt between friends : Pou tell me, if
- you.get a prize, you mean to marry Nancy; that is
honeft, for the girl is cruelly in love with you, and
I like her the better for it; a ſeaman's daughter
mould


No 9. THE OBSER VER. 83
Mould be a ſeaman's friend, and without flattery I
· don't believe a braver, lad ever trod a plank in the
king's ſervice than yourſelf-fo,enqugh of that, you
have my confent, and with it all the fortune I have
to beſtow, which is little more than my.blefing.
There is one thing however I muſt warn you of,
which is, that the girl, though of a good nature in
the main, has got a romantic turn in her head and
is terribly given to reading and making verſes and
ſuch land-lubbers traſh, as women and ſailors have
nothing to do with ; now I would nat have-yyou
make a fool of yourſelf, Harry, and marry allearn-
ed wife, though she was of my own begetting. If
therefore Nancy.and you, come to an underſtanding
together, when my old carcaſe fall be feeding the
fiſhes, remember it is on this expreſs .condition only,
which I charge you on your bonour to obſerve, that
you. burn her books, as I will do if ever I get at
them, and never yoke with her till the has rea
nounced theſe ,vagaries of poetry, which if you cure
her of you have my free leave to make her as good
a huſband as you can, and God bleſs you with her:
and this, you will obſerve and obey, as the laſt will
and teſtament of him who is
: ; Yours till death,
* * * * * *
P.S. Remember I tell you, Harry, this old ship
is damnd crank and leervardly; but our wiſe-
G2
acres


34. THE OBSERVER. Nog.
acres would not take her down, ſo they must .
ſtand by the conſequences ; she is a fine man of
war at the worſt, and if ſhe comes along-ſide
of the Monſieurs, will give their firſt-rates a
'warming. Hurrah! we are under fail!
i
.
.
N° X.
.:
.
N' X.
TIPON reviſing what I wrote for Cal-
U liope in anſwer to Dr. Mac-Infidels dil-
courſe againſt Chriſt's miracles, I find the argu-
ment ſo connected with certain paſſages in
the life of the great heathen philoſopher Pytha-
goras, which the adverſaries of Chriſtianity have
ſet up againſt the ſcriptural records of the Mel-
fias, that I have been tempted to enlarge upon
what I gave to that young lady by prefacing it
with an account of what I find curious in the
relations of the ſophiſts and biographers touching
that extraordinary man. "
The variety of fictions, which the writers,
who treat of Pythagoras, have interſperſed in
their accounts, makes it difficult to trace out
any conſiſtent ſtory of his life : His biographers
agree ſcarcely in any one fact or date: Porphyry
' ſays he was born at Tyre; Jamblichus wilt have
it


Nº 10. THE OBSERVER... 85
.
it to be at Sidon, probably as being the more
ancient city ;-Joſephus ſays it is as hard to fix
the place of his nativity, as Homer's, or to
aſcertain the year of his birth. Jamblichus,
glancing at the goſpel account of the birth of
Chrift, ſays, that when the mother of Pythagoras
was with child of him, her huſband being igno-
rant of her pregnancy, brought her to the oracle
at Delphi, and there the propheteſs told him the
firſt news of his wife's having conceived, and
alſo that the child, ſhe then went with, ſhould
prove the greateſt bleſſing to mankind; that her
huſband thereupon changed her name from Par-
thenis to Pythais, and, when the child was born,
named him Pythagoras, as being foretold by
Apollo Pythius, for ſo, ſays he, the name ſigni-
fies; and adds, that there can be no doubt, but
that the ſoul of the child was one of Apollo's
companions in heaven, and came down by com-
miſſion from him. When this and many other
fables are caſt out of the account it is moſt pro-
bable, that Pythagoras was born at Samos in the
3d year of Olymp. XLVIII, 586 years before
Chriſt, being the ſon of Mneſarchus, an engra-
ver of ſeals, which Mneſarchus was deſcended
from Hippaſus of Phlius, and his mother, Pythais
from Ancæus, one of the planters of Samos.
r..? Nature
,,G 3:
Dow
:


86 THE OBSER VER. Nó 10,
Nature beſtowed upon Pythagoras a form and
perſon more than ordinarily comely; he gave
early indications of a mind capable of great ex,
ertions, and ambitious of excelling in know-
ledge: The Greeks had now begun to open
ſchools for the public inſtruction of youth; the
rudiments of ſcience were taught in theſe ſemi-
naries to a degree fufficient for the common
purpoſes of liberal education, but the laſt finiſh-
ing for ſuch as aſpired to be adepts in the ſupe-
rior learning of the times was only to be ob-
tained amongſt the Egyptian and Chaldean
ſages; to them was the great reſort of literary
travellers ; from their ſource Greece had derived
her ſyſtems of theology and natural philoſophy.'
The Egyptians were in poſſeſſion of many an-
cient traditions of Mofaical origin, though dif-
guiſed by emblems and hieroglyphics, which
Greece in adopting was never able to develope,
and of which it is probable the Egyptians
themſelves had loſt the clue: The Grecks, ever
ſince the time of Cecrops, had been progref-
ſively erecting a fabulous and idolatrous ſyſtem
of theology upon this foundation, The Egyp-
tians in very early time under certain types and
fymbols had Thadowed out the attributes of the
deity, the great events of the deluge and re-
peopling of the earth, and theſe being received
бу


Nº 10. THE OBSERVER, 87
by the Greeks in a literal ſenſe, generated in the
end a multitudinous race of deities with a thou-
fand chimerical rites and ceremonies, which ale
together formed fo puzzling a compound of ab:
ſurdity, that no two thinking heathens agreed in
the ſame creed: Still they went on accumulating
error upon error; every philoſopher, who re-
turned from Egypt, imported ſome addition to
the ſtock, till Olympus was crowded with divi.
nities. If the heathens had ever defined their
religion, and eſtabliſhed it upon ſyſtem, they --
would have deſtroyed it; but whilſt every man
might think for himfelf, and every man, who
thought at all, got rid of his difficulties by ſup,
poſing there was ſome myſtery in the caſe, which
he either did not trouble himſelf to interpret, or
interpreted as he ſaw fit; the impofing fabric ſtood,
and, magnified through the miſts of error, appear-
ed to have a dignity and ſubſtance, which upon
examination and ſcrutiny would have vaniſhed.
• The parents of Pythagoras put him firſt under
the tuition of Pherecydes of Syrus': Phèrécydes
did nột die till Olymp. LXVI, fo that Diogènes
Laertius muſt be flagrantly miſtaken in ſaying
that Pythagoras ſtudied under this phitofopher till
his death: He was very young when he went into
Syria for this purpoſe, for he returned to Samos
to his parents and after ſtudying fome time
G4
under
-.._..._


Nº 10. THE OBSERVER. 89
command was urgent, they did not think fit ab-
ſolutely to diſobey it, but took a method, which
they thought would anſwer the ſame purpoſe and
began by deterring and alarming the inquiſitive
youth by their preparatory auſterities; but they
had no common ſpirit to deal with ; Pythagoras
had a conſtitution, that could endure hardſhips,
and an ambition that nothing could daunt; he
ſubmitted to the ceremony of circumciſion, and
was initiated into their facred rites, unintimidated
by all the horrors, with which they contrived to
fet them forth. They began then to regard him
with more benignity and reſpect, and when they
found him learning their language with ſurpriz-
ing rapidity, and conforming to their diſcipline
with the moſt rigid exactneſs, they looked upon
him with ſurprize and admiration; they now re-
ſolved to hold nothing back from talents ſo
extraordinary and temper ſo conformable; he
learnt their three ſorts of letters; they admitted
him to their facrifices, and diſcloſed the moſt fe-
cret rites of their religion, myſteries never bee
fore imparted to any foreigner. He reſided in
Egypt a long time, during which he read the
books of the ancient prieſts, and in them he dif-
covered the ſources of the Grecian theology,
and how erroneous the ſyſtem was, which they
had derived from theſe ſources; he is ſuppoſed
henceforth


90 THE OBSERVER. N° 10,
henceforth to have held the gods of the heathen
in contempt, and to have entertained ſuitable
ideas of The One Supreme Being.
Having perfected himſelf in the geometry and
aſtronomy of the Egyptians, and acquired the
obſervations of infinite ages, (as Valerius Max-
imus expreſſes it) he determined upon explo-
ring new and more diſtant ſcenes in ſearch of
knowledge, and from Egypt went to Babylon;
his recommendations from Egypt ſecured him a
reception by the Chaldees and Magi; here he
was a diſciple of Nazaratus the Aflyrian, and
we are told by Porphyry, that he was purified by
Zabratus from all defilements of his former life ;
by what particular modes of diſcipline this puri.
fication was effected Porphyry does not explain.
From Babylon he puſhed his travels into Perſia,
and was inſtructed by the Magi in their religion
and way of living ; from them he received thoſe
rules of diet, which he afterwards preſcribed to
his diſciples, wih various opinions of things
clean and unclean, which were amongſt his
maxims : Theſe conform to the preſent practice
of the Brahmins, which may'well be ſuppoſed to
have been inviolably preſeryed through that ſepa-
rated and ſacred Caſt from times of high anti-
quity; for what invention can be deviſed to ſe-
cure the longevity of any ſyſtem better than that
upon


Nº 10, THE OBSERVER. or
upon which the facerdotal order of Brahmins is
eſtabliſhed? By the Perfian Magi he was in-
ſtructed in many particulars of Jewiſh know-
ledge, chiefy their interpretations of dreams.
We have Cicero's authority for this part of his
travels (de fin, lib. v:) and Valerius Maximus
ſays the Perſian Magi taught him a moſt com-
pleat" ſyſtem of ethics; that they likewiſe in
ſtructed him in the motions and courſes of the
heavenly bodies, their properties and effects, and
the influence every ſtar reſpectively is ſuppoſed
to have,
In the courſe of theſe travels he paſſed more
than twenty years; he then turned his face
homewards, taking the iſle of Crete in his way:
here and at Lacedemon he peruſed their famous
codes of laws, and having now compleated the
great tour of ſcience, and ſtored his mind with
all the hidden treaſures of oriental knowledge, he
preſented himſelf for the firſt time to the admi-
ring eyes of Greece aſſembled at the Olympic
Games.
A ſpectacle no doubt it was for univerſal ad-
miration and reſpect; an underſtanding ſo en-
riched and full in its meridian vigour was an ob-
ject, that the wiſeſt of his contemporaries might
look up to with veneration little ſhort of idol-
atry. Pythagoras in this attitude, ſurrounded by
--
the


92. THE OBSERVER. N° 10.
the Grecian ſages on the field of the Olympic
Games, whilſt every eye was fixed with rapture
and delight upon one of the moſt perfect forms
in nature, began to pour forth the wonders of
his doctrine : Aſtoniſhment ſeized the hearers,
and almoſt doubting if it was a mortal, that had
been diſcourſing, they with one voice applauded
his wiſdom, and demanded by what title he
would in future be addreſſed: Pythagoras an-
[wered, that their ſeven fages had taken the
name of wiſe men or ſophiſts; for his part he
left them in poſſeſſion of a diſtinction they fo
well merited; he wiſhed to be no otherwiſe re-
membered or deſcribed, than as a Lover of, Wif-
dom; his pretenſions did not go to the poſſeſſion
of it; and if they would call him a Philoſopher,
he ſhould be contented with the appellation ;
From this time the name of Philoſopher became
a title of honour amongſt the learned, whilſt
that of Sophiſt ſunk into univerſal contempt.
N° XI.
T HAVE obſerved that Pythagoras on his re.
1. turn from the Eaſt took the iſland of Crete
in his way; here he viſited the famous philo-
ſopher Epimenides. Porphyry and Jamblichus
muft


Nº 11. THE OBSERVER. 03
muſt be greatly out in their chronology when
they make Epimenides one of Pythagoras’s fcho-
lars; Laertius's account is more probable, who
ſays he was one of Pythagoras's maſters, which
naturally accounts for that philoſopher's ſeeking
an interview with him in Crete, as he did after-
wards with.Pherecydes on his death-bed in Syria:
In this interview Pythagoras no doubt gave an
account to Epimenides of the many märvellous
things he had learnt in his travels, and ſo far the
diſciple may be ſaid to have inſtructed his maſter;
Epimenides himſelf was no ſmall adept in the
marvellous, and propagated a ſtory thro’ Greece
of his having ſept fifty-feven years in a cave,
and that upon waking after his long repoſe he
reſumed his ſearch for fome ſheep, which his fa-
ther had ſent him upon more than half a century
before ; the ſtory does not ſay that he found theſe
ſheep, which probably were now become more
difficult to recover than upon his firſt ſearch;
he returned however to his father's houſe, and
was rather ſurprized upon diſcovering a new ge-
neration in poſſeſſion, who thought no more of
Epimenides, than they did of his ſheep: This
ſleeping philoſopher however filled up the gap in
· his life pretty well, for Xenophanes ſays he lived
to one hundred and fifty-ſeven years of age ; and
the Cretans, who are liars upon record, ftretch
their


94 THE OBSERVER. No 11.
their account to two hundred and ninety-nine
years, modeſtly ſtopping ſhort of three centuries.
Deducting therefore fifty-ſeven years of deep,
during which he probably made no great advan-
ces in ſcience, he might have occaſion to go to
ſchool, when he waked, and, though an old man,
might be a young ſcholar under Pythagoras, if
the credibility of the above ſtory can once be
admitted.
From the Olympic Games Pythagoras repair-
ed to Samos, and opened ſchool in a place called
in the time of Antipho, (who is quoted: by Laer-
tius) Pythagoræ Hemicyclus. Here he began a
practice he continued in Italy of retiring to a
çave without; the town for the purpoſe of ſtudy,
but in fact the idea was, like moſt others of his,
oriental: Hermits have it to this day, and if
mortification is uſed to recoinmend religion, fo-
litude may be choſen to ſet off wiſdom. Pytha-
goras in a cave, viſited in the dead of night with
awful reverence and credulity, might paſs ſtories
upon his hearers, which he could not riſque in
the face of the ſun and the ſtreets of the city.
He was not however ſo far fequeftered from
the concerns of the world, as to enjoy himſelf in
his cave under the tyranny of Polycrates, now
more oppreſſive than at his departure for Egypt.
He thereupon reſolved to go into Italy, and took
Delos


Nº 11. THE OBSERVER. . .
95
Delos in his way; here he wrote the verſes on
the ſepulchre of Apollo, which Porphyry records:
From Delos he paſſed to Phlius, the ancient
country of his family, and at Phlius Cicero in-
forms us, he expounded ſeveral points of his new
philoſophy to the tyrant Leo, who, being ſtruck
with his doctrine, demanded of him what branch
of ſcience he principally profeſſed: Pythagoras
replied that he profeſſed none, but was a Phila-
Sopher: The name was new to Leo, and he
deſired to be informed of its ſignification, and
wherein philoſophers differed from other profeſ-
fors of the learned ſciences : Pythagoras anſwer-
ed, That it appeared to him men were drawn to
different objects and purſuits in life, as the Greeks
were to their Olympic Games, fome for glory, ſome
for gain; at the ſame time, ſays he, you muſt have
obſerved that others attend without any - view to
eithers for curioſity and amuſement only; ſo we,
who are travellers and adventurers, as it were,
from another life and another nature, come amongſt
mankind, indifferent to the ordinary allurements
of avarice or ambition, and ſtudious of nothing but
of the truth and eſſence of things : Such may be
called Lovers of Wiſdom, or in one word Philoſo-
phers; and, like the unconcerned ſpectators above
deſcribed, have no other intereſts to purſue, but the
acquiſition of knowledge and the rational enjoyments


96 THE OBSERVER. N° 11.
of a contemplative mind. In this reply he glances
at his doctrine of the Metempſycoſis.
In his progreſs towards Italy Pythagoras went
to Delphi, that he might give the more authority
to his precepts upon the pretence of his having
received them from the prieſteſs Thcoclea.
In Italy he eſtabliſhed himſelf for the remain-
der of his life, and taught there forty years
wanting one in his colleges at Metapontum,
Heraclea, and Croton. He ſtaid twenty years
at Croton before he went to Metapontum ; Milo,
the famous Olympic victor, was one of his ſcho-
lars at the former of theſe places. The fame of
his doctrines drew a prodigious reſort to his col-
lege; no leſs than fix hundred diſciples at one
time attended his lectures nightly: He impo-
fed rules of preparation and a ſyſtem of diſci-
pline for his ſtudents, admirably contrived to
inſpire them with veneration for his perſon, and
to train their minds to the exerciſes of patience
and reſpect : He preſcribed a probationary ſilence
of five years, during which initiation they were
not once admitted to the right of their maſter,
who in the mean time, like an inviſible and ſu-
perior ſpirit, governed them after the moſt abſo-
lutc manner by mandates, which they never
heard but through the channel of his ſubordinate
agents : At length they were uſhered with much
ceremony


Nir. THE OBSERVER. 97
ceremony into the awful prefence. Such a
courſe of difcipline could not fail to prepare
every mind, capable of undergoing it, for the
marvellous ftories, which at certain times he
introduced into his lectures touching the doca
trine of the Metempfycoſis, and the revelation
of his own divinity: He ſcrupled not to tell
them, that he was the Apollo of the Hyperbo-
reans, and he corroborated his aſſertion by ex-
poſing to view his thigh compofed of folid gold;
his food, which was of the ſimpleft fort, was
conveyed to him in his recefs in a manner fo
fecret; that he was not diſcovered to be ſubject
to the common appetites and neceſſities of hu-
man nature ; his perſon was moft comely and
commanding, and his dreſs of ſtudied cleanlineſs
and fimplicity; he was always clad in milk-white
garments of the pureſt wool; he told them his
foul had paffed through ſeveral antecedent forms,
and that it had originally received from Merz
cury; when it inhabited the body of Æthalides
ffon of that God) the privilege of migrating
after the death of one body into that of another,
with the faculty of remembering all the actions
of its præterient ſtates; that theſe tranſmigra-
tions were not immediate, but after intervals, in
which his ſoul vifited the regions of the other
torld, and was admitted to the ſociety of de
Vol. I.
H
parted


98 THE OBSERVER. N. 11.
parted ſpirits; that in virtue of this prerogative,
it paſſed after ſome time from the body of Ætha-
lides into that of Euphorbus, who was wounded
by Menelaus at the ſiege of Troy, and in his
perſon was conſcious of what had occurred in
that of its predeceffor ; that it next appeared on
earth in the perſon of Hermetimus, who gave
proofs of his reminiſcence by appealing to the
ſhield ſuſpended in the temple of Apollo by the
hands of Menelaus; from Hermotimus it paſſed
into one Pyrrhus a fiſherman, retaining the like
conſciouſneſs; and laſtly it had lodged itſelf,
where it now was, pofTefling all the accumulated
recollection of its paſt tranſmigrations,
Daring as theſe fi&tions were, ſtill they were
credited; for the powers of his mind were won,
derful, and the authority he had eſtabliſhed over
his hearers by fuperior wiſdom and ingenious
device was unbounded; the curious reſearches
of his ſtudy in the Eaſt, and the paſſion he had
there contracted for the marvellous and ſuper-
natural, inſpired him with the ambition of paſſing
himſelf upon the world for ſomething above hu-
man; he had trained on the credulity of his dif-
ciples with ſuch art, that he found it would bear
whatever he thought proper to impoſe; he was
ſenſible he tranſcended all men living in wiſdom,
and he reſolved to aſſume a ſuperiority of nature
alſo.


Nº II, THE OBSERVER. IOT
periſhing, he reſiſted their entreaties and was
burnt to death. To this account I incline ; but
others contend, that he eſcaped from the flames;
and was killed in purſuit; ſome relate that he
took refuge in the Muſes' Temple at Metapon-
tum, where being kept from victuals forty days,
he was ſtarved; and other hiſtorians with as little
probability on their ſide fay, that being purſued
into a bean-plot, he there ſtopped, becauſe he
would not paſs over prohibited ground, and
yielded his throat to the purſuers. After his
death his ſurviving diſciples were diſperſed into
Greece and the neighbouring countries.
Thus periſhed Pythagoras, the Samian philofo-
pher, founder of the Italian ſchool, and the great
luminary of the heathen world.
Nº XII,
TTAVING in my two preceding papers
11 been at fome pains in collecting an ac-
count of the life of Pythagoras from the many
various unconnected particulars, ſcattered up and
down in the works of the ſophiſts and bio-
graphers touching that extraordinary man, I
now come to my main object, in which I deſire
H 3
the
-
--


702 THE OBSERVER. N° 12.
the reader's attention, whilſt I attempt to ſhew
in what manner the heathen writers have applied
theſe particulars in oppoſition to the life and
actions of Chriſt; this will be the ſubject of the
preſent paper; in my next I purpoſe to conclude
by anſwering thoſe arguments, on which modern
cavillers have grounded their reaſonings againſt
the goſpel miracles; a ſubject to which I have
been led by Dr. Mac-Infidel's diſcourſe, of which
ſome notice has been taken in former papers.
It has been unfortunate for Pythagoras, that
the writers of Julian's time, to pay court to the
Emperor, ſhould have corrupted their account
of him with ſo many fictions and abſurdities; for
he was truly a very wonderful man: But when
they undertook to depreciate the character of
Chriſt, his doctrines and miracles, by aſcribing
actions to Pythagoras equal, or, as they con-
ceived, ſuperior to what Chriſt had done upon
earth, they were driven to ſtrange reſources in
deifying their philoſopher; for in fact the time
was rather paſt for thoſe deluſions ; deification
after death was the moſt that could be attempt-
ed, and even the Julium Sidus held its place in
the heavens by a precarious tenure : At the ſame
time an apotheoſis would not ſerve their purpoſe ;
it was neceſſary to make Pythagoras a god or
the ſon of a god, and to give him a ſupernatural
birth


N• 12. THE OBSERVER. 103
birth from the womb of a virgin : Their next
buſineſs was to inveſt him with the power of
working miracles; but here ſome ſtubborn facts
laid in their way; he had viſited Epimenides in
his laſt fickneſs without being able to prolong
his life ; they were driven to ridiculous reſources;
and, taking Abaris’s arrow in aid, ſent their phi-
loſopher upon it through the air from Metapon-
tum to Taurominium ; becauſe Chriſt had walk-
ed on the ſea, Pythagoras rode through the ſkies;
becauſe Chriſt had been forty days faſting in the
wilderneſs, Pythagoras was to be forty days with-
out food in the Temple of the Muſes at Meta-
pontum; becauſe Chriſt deſcended into Hades,
and roſe again from the dead, and appeared upon
earth, Pythagoras deſcended to the ſhades below,
remained there a compleat year, faw Homer,
Heſiod, and other departed ſpirits, returned upon
earth wan and emaciated, and reported what he
had ſeen in full affembly of his diſciples, whilſt
his mother, by his ſpecial direction before his
deſcent, regiſtered upon tablets all that paſſed,
and noted the times of his temporary death and
reſurrection; to carry on the competition, he was
made to allay winds, tempeſts, and earthquakes,
to curc diſeaſes, whether of mind or body, and
to foretel to certain fiſhermen, whom he found
at work, how many fiſh they ſhould incloſe in
H 4
their


ICA TIE OBSERVER, N 12.
their act: The reader, who has confused Pore
pyry and Jambiichus, will call to mind other
con ide weich,
With what fuperior what incontcfible ftrength
of evidence does the diſciple of Chrift mect the
diſciple of Pythagoras in this compariſon between
trir meitens! The heathen teacher was almost
a inizmi le of eruditions he traverſed the Euft in
purſuit of lience, and colleated knowledge,
wherever it was to be found, with unremiuing
induflry: Chift lived in privacy and obſcurity,
educated only in the humble trade and occupa-
tion of his parents, to whom he was obedient
and devoted, till be let out upon the functions
of his million, The perſon of the firſt was cape
tivating and comely, not to be approached but
with awe and adoration, with preparatory per
nances and rigid initiations, with every artifice
to let him off that human wit could deviſe; the
other was defpifed und rejetted of mens the fimplelt
and the meekelt being, that ever walked the
earth; converſing freely with all men, preſent-
ing himſelf to the poor and lowly, to women and
to little children; in him was no form of comeli-
nefs, that men Should defire; no artifice or trick
to catch applaufe or to exeite ſurprize: If he ex.
erciſed his miraculous power in healing the in-
frin, or reviving the dead, he did it in filence,
and


N° 12. THE OBSERVER. 105
and u:der injunction of ſecrecy, directing men
to pay their thanks to God alone, and forbidding
them even to call him good. No magic num-
bers, nor myſtic ſymbols obſcured his doctrines,
but he delivered the ſimple ſyſtem of his pure
morality in little eafy anecdotes, levelled to the
capacity, and fitted to the memory of the pooreſt
and moſt illiterate. From ſuch he choſe his
diſciples, that the wiſdom of this world might have
no ſhare in his miniſtry, and he reſted upon the
weakeſt agents the taſk of preaching and propa-
gating the ſublimeſt religion. Gloomy enthuſi-
arts have buried themſelves in deſarts and ca-
verns of the earth to brood in ſolitude and ſpend
their days in penances and prayers; ambitious
innovators have been carried to the higheſt pitch
of human greatneſs by becoming founders of a
new religion; but Chriſt taught his diſciples
neither to ſhun ſociety, nor to diſturb authori-
ties; he told them indeed that they ſhould die
for the faith they profeſſed, but it was not the
death of ſoldiers, but of martyrs, they ſhould
fuffer, and theſe precepts he confirmed by his
own example, being led like a lamb to the flaugh-
ter; if they, who profeſs his religion, were to
practiſe it, Univerſal Love and Benevolence
would obtain upon earth,
But


106 THE () BSERVER. N° 12.
But of the internal evidences 'of Chria's re-
ligion I a'n rot now to ſpeak; ſo long as the
diſtinctions between good and evil exiſt, theſe
can need no defence ; if men agree in the one,
they cannot differ or diſpute about the other.
With regard to the goſpel account of Chriſt's
miracles, I may be allowed in general to obſerve,
that theſe forgeries of Porphyry and Jamblichus
in imitation of them, warrant a fair preſumption,
that if theſe writers could have diſproved the
authorities of the Evangeliſts, and controverted
the matter of fact, they would not have reſorted
to ſo indeciſive and circuitous a mode of oppoſing
them, as this which we are now examining :
Men of ſuch learning as theſe writers, would
not have riſqued extravagant fictions merely to
keep way with a hiſtory, which they had more
immediate means of refuting : On the other
hand, if their abſurdity ſhould lead any man to
ſuppoſe, that they forged theſe accounts by way
of parody and in ridicule of the goſpels, the ac-
counts themſelves give the ſtrongeſt evidence to
the contrary, and it is clear beyond a doubt, that
both Porphyry and Jamblichus mean to be cre-
dited in their hiſtories of Pythagoras, as ſeriouſly
as Philoſtratus docs in his of Apollonius Tya-
Ixcus.
This


N° 12. THE OBSERVER. 107
· This will more fully appear by referring to
the circumſtances, that occafioned theſe hiſtories
to be written.
Chriſt having performed his miracles open-
ly and before ſo many witneſſes, it is not found
that the matter of fact was ever queſtioned
by any, who lived in that age: On the con-
trary we ſee it was acknowledged by his moſt
vigilant enemies the Phariſees : They did not
deny the miracle, but they aſcribed it to the aid
of the prince of the devils ; ſo weak a ſubterfuge
againſt the evidence of their own ſenſes probably
ſatisfied neither themſelves nor others; if it had,
this accuſation of forcery (being capital by their
law, and alſo by that of the Romans) would
have been heard of, when they were ſo much to
ſeek for crimes, wherewith to charge him on his
trial : If any man fhall object, that this is argu-
ing out of the goſpels in favour of the goſpels, I
contend that this matter of fact does not reſt
ſolely on the goſpel evidence, but alſo upon col-
lateral hiſtoric proof; for this very argument of
the Phariſees, and this only, is made uſe of by
thoſe Jews, whom Celſus brings in arguing
againſt the Chriſtian religion; and thoſe Jews
on this very account rank Chriſt with Pytha-
goras; and I challenge the cavillers againſt
Chriſt's miracles either to controvert what is
thus


108 THE OBSERVER. N° 12.
thus aſſerted, or to produce any other argument
of Jewiſh origin, except this aſcribed to the
Phariſees by the goſpel, either from Celſus, as
above mentioned, or any other writer.
Celſus, it is well known, was a very learned
man, and wrote in the time of Adrian or ſome-
thing later ; this was not above fifty years after
the date of Chriſt's miracles. Celſus did not
controvert the accounts of them, who were wit-
neſſes of the miracles, nor attempt to Thew any
inconſiſtence or chicanery in the facts them,
felves; he takes up at ſecond hand the old Phari-
faical argument of aſcribing them to the power of
the devil: In ſhort, they were performed, he can-
not deny it; there was no trick or artifice in the
performance, he cannot diſcover any; the ac-
counts of them are no forgeries, he cannot confute
them, they are recent hiſtories, and their authen-
ticity too notorious to be called into queſtions
he knows not how the miracles were performed,
and therefore they were done by the invocation
of the devil ; he cannot patiently look on and ſee
that learning, ſo long the glory of all civilized
nations, and which he himſelf was to an eminent
degree poſſeſſed of, now brought into diſgrace by
a new religion, profeſſing to be a divine revela-
tion, and originating from amongſt the meaneſt
and moſt odious of all the provincial nations,
and


N 12. THE OBSERVER. 10g
and propagated by diſciples, who were as mucha
deſpiſed and hated by the Jews in general, as the
Jews were by all other people. Unable to diſ-
prove the account and at a loſs how to parry it
from hearſay, or from what he finds in former
writers, he has no other reſource, but to bring
forward again thoſe cavilling Phariſees, and
soundly to aſſert in general terms, (which he
does more than once) that theſe miracles are all
the tricks of a ſorcerer, and for this he expects
the world ſhould take his authority.
I have ſaid that Celſus adduces neither oral
nor written authority against Chriſt's miracles;
but I am well aware it may be faid; (and mo-
dern cavillers will affect to ſay it with triumph)
that authorities are ſilent on the ſubject; there
are none which make mention of theſe miracles, at
kaft none have come down to our times. If this
filence implies a want of collateral evidence,
which in the opinion of our modern diſbelievers
vitiates the authenticity of the goſpel, how much
ſtronger would the argument have been in Cel-
fus's time than in ours! Why does he not avail
himſelf of it? And why does he take ſuch pains
to controvert accounts of which' no man had
ever ſpoken either in proof or diſproof? May it
not be fairly preſumed, that he forbears to urge
it from plain conviction, that it would operate
the


110 THE OBSERVER. N° 12.
the contrary way to what he wiſhed, and that
the reaſon why contemporary writers were ſilent,
was not becauſe they were ignorant of the facts,
but becauſe they could not confute them? Here
then we will leave the caſe for the preſent; the
heathen writers, contemporary with Chriſt, make
no mention of his miracles; they are intereſted
to diſprove them, and they do not diſprove them;
modern unbelievers think this a reaſon that theſe
miracles were never performed; Celfus writes
fifty years after the time, never urges this ſilence
as an argument for their non-exiſtence, but vir-
tually, nay expreſsly, admits Chriſt's miracles,
by ſetting up Pythagoras's in competition with
them.
Neither is it Pythagoras alone he compares to
Chriſt, he ſtates the performances of Ariſteas
Proconnefius and Abaris alſo. Of Ariſteas the
firſt account we have is in Herodotus, and he
gives it only upon hearſay: He relates that it
was reported of him, that he died at Proconne-
ſus, and appeared there ſeven years after, and,
having written fome verſes, diſappeared; but
that two or three hundred years after he had ap-
peared again at Metapontum, where by ſpecial
direction of Apollo he was worſhipped as a god :
Of Abaris, Celfus relates, that he rode through
the air on an arrow, paſſing over mountains and
12
ſeas


Nº 12. THE OBSERVER: 111
ſeas in his paſſage out of Scythia into Greece,
and back again into Scythia.
Hence it came to paſs that other heathen wri-
ters, after the example of Celſus, publiſhed their
accounts of Pythagoras and Apollonius Tya-
neus; not fo much for the purpoſe of giving
the hiſtories of thoſe perſons, as to ſet them up
in oppoſition to Chriſt and his diſciples. Por-
phyry compoſed the hiſtory of Pythagoras after
he had written fifteen books profeſſedly againſt
the Chriſtian religion; theſe were ſuppreſſed
by the Chriſtian emperors who ſucceeded Gali-
enus, in whoſe time Porphyry wrote his hiſtory
of Pythagoras in the iſland of Sicily, whither he
retired in diſguſt with the Emperor for his fa-
vour to the Chriſtians, and would have put hima
ſelf to death with his own hand, if Plotinus had
not prevented him. Galienus ſoon died, and
the ſucceeding emperors being diſpoſed to per-
ſecute the Chriſtians, Porphyry publiſhed his
hiſtory. Jambļichus publiſhed his account of
Pythagoras in the reign of the Emperor Julian,
with whom he was in high favour, as the letters
of that Emperor ſufficiently teſtify, Hierocles
alſo in the time of Diocleſian publiſhed two
books againſt the Chriſtian religion under the
title of Philalethes, and for theſe was promoted
by Galerius from being chief judge at Nicome-
• dia


112 THE OBSERVER No 12:
dia to the government of Alexandria. Theſe
books are now loft, but we are informed by
Eufebius they were moſtly copied from Celfus,
and ſet up Ariſteas, Pythagoras and Apollonius
Tyaneus againſt Chriſt, whom he ſays the Chrifu
tians, on account of his doing a few teratyai,
call a God, and concludes with theſe words, viz.
That it is worth conſidering that thoſe things of
Fefus are boaſted of Peter and Paul, and ſome
others of the like fort, liars and illiterate and ims
poſtors; but for theſe things of Apollonius; we have
Maximus and Damis a philoſopher, who lived with
him, and Philoſtratus, men eminent for their learn-
ing and lovers of truth. .
As for theſe witneſſes to Philoſtratus's legend
of Apollonius, Maximus's minutes go no farther
than to two or three years of Apollonius's life
paſſed at Ægæ, when he was about twenty years
old; and what he had from Damis was a table-
book of minutes, which a namelefs man, pre-
tending to be a relation of Damis, brought to
Julia the mother and wife of Caracalla, and were
by her given to the Sophiſt Philoftratus to dreſs
up in handſomer language.
Such are the authorities for the legend of Phi-
loſtratus, written above a hundred years after
the death of Apollonius, who died a few weeks
after the Emperor Domitian in the year of Chriſt
96.


Nº 12. THE OBSERVER. 113
96. This Apollonius was of the feet of Pytha-
goras, and the patroneſs of Philoſtratus's hiſtory
was the monſter Julia, mother and wife to the
deteſtable Caracalla.
N° XIII.
IT ſeems natural to ſuppoſe that any great and
I ſignal revelation of the Divine Will ſhould
be authenticated to mankind by evidences pro-
portioned to the importance of the communica-
tion. Chriſtians contend that in the purity and
perfection of their religion, as it was taught by
Chriſt, and in the miracles which he performed
on earth whilſt he was teaching, full and ſufi-
cient evidencies are found of a Divine Revela-
tion.
As for the religion of Chriſt it ſpeaks for
itſelf, the book is open, which contains it, and
however it may have degenerated in practice
through the corruption of them who profeſs it,
there ſeems no difference of opinion in the world
as to the purity and perfection of its principles :
Of theſe evidencies therefore, which are gene-
rally called internal, I have no need to ſpeak.
VOL. I.


14 THE OBSERVER. No 13
It is not poſlīble to make the ſame direct ap-
peal to the miracles as to the religion of Chriſt.
Many centuries have revolved ſince they have
ceaſed; nature has long ſince reſumed her courſe,
and retains no traces of them; their evidencies
therefore are not, like thoſe of Chriſt's religion,
internal, but hiſtorical; it muſt however be ac-
knowledged, that they are hiſtorical evidencies
of the ſtrongeſt ſort, for the hiſtorians were eye-
witneſſes of what they relate, and their relations
agree.
It is eaſy therefore to ſee, that if the ſyſtem
of Chriſtianity is to be attacked, it is in this part
only the attack is to be expected. This has ac-
cordingly taken place in three different periods,
and in three different modes.
The unbelieving Jews, contemporary with
Chriſt, before whoſe eyes the miracles were
performed, could not diſpute their being done,
but they attempted to criminate the doer by ac-
cuſing him of a guilty communication with evil
{pirits, afcribing his fupernatural deeds to the
power of the devil. The heathens, who had
not ocular demonftiation, but could not conteſt
facts ſo well eſtabliſhed, made their attack upon
his miracles, by inſtancing others, who had done
things altogether as wonderful, viz. Pythagoras,
Abaris, Apollonius, and others.
9
Thus


N° 13. THE OBSERVER. 115
Thus the matter reſted for many ages, till
modern cavillers within the pale of the Chriſtian
church ſtruck upon a new argument for an at-
tack upon Chriſt's miracles; and this argument
having been woven into a late publication, whoſe
hiſtorical merit puts it into general circulation,
many retailers of infidelity, (and Dr. Mac-Infidel
amongſt the reſt,) have caught at it as a dif-
covery of importance, and as they have con-
trived to connect it with topics of more erudi-
tion, than the generality of people are furniſhed
with, on whom they practiſe, it has been propa-
gated with ſome ſucceſs, where it has had the
advantage of not being underſtood.
The ſtrength of this argument lies in the dif-
covery, that contemporary authorities are filent
on the ſubject of Chriſt's miracles : Naturaliſts
and the authors, who record all curious and exo
traordinary events of their own or of preceding
times, make no mention of the wonderful things,
which Chriſt is ſaid to have done in the land of
Judæa; in ſhort, the Evangeliſts are left alone
in the account, and yet ſome things are related
by them too general in their extent, and too
wonderful in their nature, to have been paſſed
over in ſilence by theſe authors, or in other
words not to have had a place in their collec-
tions : The elder Pliny and Seneca they tell us
were
I 2


116 THE OBSERVER. N° 13.
----
were living at the time of Chriſt's paſſion; the
Evangeliſts relate, that there was darkneſs over
the face of the earth when Chriſt gave up the
ghoſt, and this darkneſs was miraculous, being
out of the courſe of nature, and incidental to the
divinity of the perſon, who was then offering up
his life for the redemption of mankind; againſt
the veracity of the goſpel account relative to this
particular prodigy the attack is pointed; and
they argue, that if it extended over the whole
earth, elder Pliny and Seneca with all others
who were then living, muſt have noticed it; if
it was local to the province of Judæa, men of
their information muſt have heard of it: Each
of theſe philoſophers has recorded all the great
phænomena of nature, which his curioſity and
care could get together, and Pliny in particu-
lar has devoted an entire chapter to eclipſes of
an extraordinary nature, yet does not mention
this at the Paffion: The defection of light, which
followed Cæſar's murder was not to be compared
with what the goſpel relates of the præternatural
darkneſs at the Paſſion, and yet moſt of the wri-
, ters of that age have recorded the former event,
whilſt all are ſilent as to the latter-Therefore it
did not happen.
This I believe is a fair ſtate of the argument,
and, if there be any merit in the diſcovery, it
certainly
In
.
n
ļ
si u
u
case


N° 13. THE OBSERVER. 117
certainly reſts with the moderns; for neither
Celſus, Porphyry, nor his diſciple Jamblichus,
have ſtruck upon it, though the firſt-mentioned
wrote againſt Chriſtianity in the time of Adrian,
who ſucceeded to the empire eighty years after
Chriſt's paſſion; as for Seneca, he died about
thirty years, and elder Pliny three and forty
years after Chriſt.
The fathers of the church it ſeems are divided
in opinion as to the darkneſs at Chriſt's paſſion
being general to the whole earth, or local only
to Judæa. As the deciſion of this point does
not affect the general queſtion, the abettors of
the argument are willing to admit with Origen,
Beza, and others, that the prodigy ſhould be un-
derſtood as local to that part of the world, to
which his other miracles were confined, and to
whoſe conviction, if it really happened, it is na-
tural to ſuppoſe it ſhould be ſpecially addreſſed.
Allowing this, theſe reaſoners contend that it
muſt of neceſſity have been reported to Rome,
and that report muſt have been known to Seneca
and elder Pliny, and, being known, muſt have
been recorded by one or both," Theſe poſitions
merit examination. .
The firſt point to be taken for granted is, that
the miracle of the three hours darkneſs upon the
paſſion of Chriſt muſt neceſſarily have been
13
reported


118 THE OBSERVER. N° 13.
reported to Rome : This report was either to
come in the ſtate diſpatches of the Procurator
Pilate to the court of Tiberius, or from private
communications : Of the probability of the firſt
caſe the reader muſt judge for himſelf from
circumſtances; it is merely matter of ſpecula-
tion: It involves a doubt at leaſt, whether the
Procurator would not ſee reaſons perſonal, as
well as political, againſt reporting to the court
an event, which at beſt tended to his own cri-
mination, and which, if he had delivered it for
truth, might have alarmed the jealouſy, or rouſed
the reſentment of his ſovereign. The idea en-
tertained by the Jews of deliverance from the
Roman yoke by their expected Meſſias, was too
general to have eſcaped the knowledge of their
watchful tyrants, and it does not ſeem likely
any Roman governor of that province would be
forward to report any miracle, or miracles, that
had reference to a perſon, who having ſet up a
new religion declared himſelf that very Meſſias,
which the Jewiſh prophecies foretold ſhould ap-
pear to extirpate the Gentile idolatry: If this be
a reaſon for the Roman Procurator in Judæa to
he ſilent on the ſubject, it is no leſs ſo for the
people of Rome to reject the reports of the
Christians themſelves, if they ventured any; and
as for the ‘unbelieving Jews, it is not to be ex-
pected


N° 13. THE OBSERVER. 119
pected they would contribute to ſpread the evi-
dencies of Chriſt's divinity.
The next point to be taken for granted in the
argument under examination is, that this report,
if actually made, muſt have been known to the
philoſopher Seneca and the naturaliſt Pliny; and
I think it may fairly be allowed, that an event
of this ſort could not well fail of coming to the
knowledge of Seneca, and even of Pliny, (tho'
he died forty-three years after the time) if the
government in Tiberius's reign had been made
acquainted with it by authority, and had taken
no meaſures for ſuppreſſing it, or any accounts
publiſhed at the time reſpecting it; for after all
it muſt be obſerved, that this event, not being
found in Pliny's Natural Hiftory, nor in Seneca's
Enquiries, does not by any means decide the
queſtion againſt any accounts being publiſhed,
but leaves it ſtill open to conjecture, (and with
ſome reaſon) that ſuch accounts might have been
ſuppreſſed by the heathen Emperors.
· But waving any further diſcuſſion of this point,
we will paſs to the third and laſt poſition, in
which it is preſumed, that if this præternatural
eclipſe at Chriſt's paſſion was known to Seneca
and Pliny, one or both muſt have recorded it in
their works.
. 14 . This


N° 13. THE OBSERVER. · 121
racles draws a ſtronger argument for his belief
from the ſilence of Seneca and Pliny, than any
caviller can urge againſt it from the ſame cir-
cumſtance: If we admit they knew it and yet
did not record it, are we not better founded in
ſuppoſing they were ſilent, becauſe they could
not controvert the fact, than our opponents are
in ſaying it did not paſs, becauſe they do not
mention it? It is too much to require of wit-
neſſes, that they ſhould depoſe to a fact, which
is to convict themſelves : I muſt therefore ap-
peal to the candid reader, whether a philoſopher
writing in the court of Nero, who had charged
the Chriſtians with the burning of Rome, and
was deviſing terrible and unheard-of modes of
torturing them upon this charge, who had be-
headed Paul and crucified Peter for preaching
Chriſt and the redemption of mankind earned
by his Paſſion, whether a heathen philoſopher I
ſay writing at this very time an account of ex-
traordinary, but what he delivers as true, events
in nature would venture upon putting into his
account a miracle, tending to confirm the divine
nature and miſſion of that perſon, whoſe imme-
diate followers were then ſuffering under the
moſt determined perſecution ? No heathen wri-
ter in his ſenſes would have ventured to give
ſuch an account. Peter and Paul declared for
the


122 THE OBSERVER. N° 13.
the miracle, and were martyred for their doc-
trine; the goſpel account declared for the mi.
racle and no one Roman writer controverted
the affertion; this was the time for Seneca,
for Pliny and other heathen writers to cry out
againſt the glaring fiction, Do the Chriſtians ſay
there was a general darkneſs when their maſter
expired? We appeal to the fact againſt them; it
reached not us at Rome; the light of that day was
like the light of other days : Do they ſay it was
partial to Judæa only? Be it fo! We meet them
on their own ground; we appeal to the Procu-
rator Pilate, to the noble Romans reſident in Ju-
dæa, to the ſoldiers, to the very Centurion, who
attended his execution, to witneſs againſt this im-
pudent attack upon men's ſenſes. Let them pretend
that he healed the ſick, cured the lame, turned water
into wine, or performed a thouſand other juggling
tricks, but darkneſs over a whole province can be
confuted by the teſtimony of a whole province, and
to this we appeal.-Was this faid? Was this
appeal made? Strange perverſion of reaſon to
turn that into an argument againſt a thing,
which ſeems concluſive for it! at leaſt no nega-
tive can come nearer to concluſion, than con-
temporary filence in a caſe ſo open to confuta-
tion, had it not been true.
But
jinak


N° 13. THE OBSERVER. 123
But Seneca and elder Pliny did not ſee the
goſpel-Let it paſs; let us grant all that the ar-
gument ſuppoſes ; why are we told of no con-
futation of this miracle by any heathen writer
contemporary with, or poſterior to the goſpel
account of the Paſſion? The aſſertion of a præ-
ternatural event, ſo generally notorious, muſt
have been open to proof. Would Celſus have
overlooked it? Would not Lucian have taken
it up? Should not we hear of its having been
urged by Porphyry, who was ſo voluminous a
controverſialiſt? Should not we meet it in Juli-
an or Philoſtratus ? Should we hear nothing,
that could lead us to believe it was controverted
by Jamblichus, or Hierocles in his books entitled
Philalethes? If the ſilence of the heathen writers
is to be appealed to for the purpoſe of impeach-
ing Chriſt's, miracles, let the appeal be made;
whilſt we confine ourſelves to the defence of
thoſe miracles only, which are recorded in the
Goſpels and Acts of the Apoſtles, neither the
ſilence of ancient, nor the eloquence of modern
opponents, can ſhake the records, on which we
ground our faith.
i
Nº XIV.


124
THE OBSERVER. N° 14.
Nº XIV.
THAT period of the Athenian hiſtory,
1 which is included within the æra of Pili-
ſtratus and the death of Menander the comic
poct, may be juſtly ſiled the literary age of
Greece. I propoſe to dedicate ſome of theſe
papers to a review of that period; but as the
carlier ages of poctry, though in general ob-
ſcure, yet afford much intereſting matter of en-
quiry, it will be proper to take up the Athenian
hiſtory from its origin, becauſe it is ſo connected
with the account I mcan to give, that I cannot
otherwiſe preſerve that order and continuation
in point of time, which perſpicuity requires.
This account may properly be called a hiſtory
of the human underſtanding within a period pe-
culiarly favourable to the production of genius ;
and, though I cannot expect that my labour will
in the end furniſh any thing more than what
every literary man has ſtored in his memory, or
can reſort to in his books, ſtill it will have the
merit of being a ſelection uninterrupted and un-
mixed with other events, that crowd and obſcure
it in the original relations, to which he muſt
ctherwiſe refer. The wars, both foreign and
domeſtic, which the ſmall communities of Greece
were


126 THE OBSERVER. N" 14.
Titans, grandſon to Jupitcr or contemporary
with Moſes, is an enquiry, which the learned
have agitated with much zeal and very little
ſucceſs. It is however agreed that there was a
grievous flood in his time, which deluged the
province afterwards called Attica ; but that hap-
pily for King Ogyges, being a perſon of gigan-
tic ſtature he ſurvived the general calamity. A
period of one hundred and eighty-nine years fuc-
ceeded to this food, in which this province re-
mained ſo depopulated, that it is generally ſup-
poſed no king reigned over it till the time of
Cecrops, the founder of Athens, from him at
firſt named Cecropia.
Cecrops made many prudent inſtitutes for the
benefit of his riſing ſtate during a long reign of
fifty years, and, by eſtabliſhing the rites of ma-
trimony, aboliſhed the promiſcuous commerce
of the ſexes, in which they lived before his time;
by theſe and other regulations upon a general
numbering of all his ſubjects, he found the male
adults in his dominions to amount to twenty
thouſand, every perſon of the above deſcription
being directed to bring a ſtone in his hand and
caſt it down in a ſtated place: This prince, be-
ing an Egyptian, introduced the mythology of
his native country, upon which ſo many Grecian
fables were formed, and from which a learned
modern


N° 14.- THE OBSERVER. 127
modern has with great fagacity traced a very
curious analogy with the Moſaic accounts of the
early ages : The Greeks adopted the fables with-
out comprehending their alluſions, and thereupon
formed the conſtitution of a religion, which kept
poſſeſſion of great part of the world, till reve-
lation diſpelled its errors and enlightened the
Gentile nations. Till Cecrops erected altars to
Jupiter, made libations and eſtabliſhed his wor-
thip, he was not known in Greece as a God:
He ſet up the image of Mercury, facrificed to
Saturn, Ops, Rhea, Juno, and Minerva, and
was in fact the inſtitutor of the Pagan theology:
The gods of Cecrops were ſoon made uſeful in-
ſtruments in the hand of the founder of a mga
narchy, for before he could induce his people to
cultivate the dry and barren country of Attica,
he was forced to play off his new machinery, by
raiſing a conteſt in heaven between Neptune
and Minerva for the patronage of Cecropia, the
capital of his new empire': He found intereſt
enough with the deities to turn their deciſion in
Minerva’s favour; and by this contrivance he
diverted his ſubjects from their maritime attach-
ments to agriculture, and particularly to the cula
tivation of the olive: To ſtrengthen ſtill further
the tutelary title of Minerva, he enforced the
dedication of the city by changing its name from
Сесторія


No 14THE OBSERVĚ Ř: 120
and the latter betrayed his daughter info à falſe
ſtep; an attachment, which though it does not
convict her of vulgarity of taſte; certainly does
no credit to the chaſtity of her mórals, or the
gratitude of her ſeducer:
Cranaus fucceeded on the death of Cecrops,
and after a reign of nine years was depoſed by
Amphictyon, who ſeized the throne of Athens
and rendered his name memorable to pofterity
by eſtabliſhing the great Council or Law-Courts
of the Amphictyons, who held their meetings
at Thermopylae. This prince introduced the
practice of diluting and mixing wines; a practice
that obtained through all Greece for mány ages;
in memory of which føber inſtitutions Amphic-
tyon erected an altar to Bacchus the Upright
and placed it in the Temple of the Hours : He
alſo conſecrated an altar to the nymphs near at
hand in the fame temple, that mankind might
thereby be kept in mind of the gracefulneſs of
temperance, and it is not eaſy to find any inſtance
in the pagan worſhip, where fuperftition has been
applied to more elegant or moral purpoſes. In
ſmall communities ſuch regulations may be car-
ried into effect, where all the people are under
the eye of the fovereign, and in the fame ſpirit
of reformation Amphictyon publiſhed an edicto
that none of his ſubjects ſhould indulge them-
Vol. I.
ſelves
K


130 THE OBSERVER. N° 14.
ſelves in the uſe of undiluted wine, except in one
ſmall glaſs after their meals to give them a taſte
of the potency of the god ; under this reſtriction
he permitted the free uſe of diluted wines, pro-
vided they obſerved in their meetings to addreſs
their libations to Jupiter the preſerver of man's
health...
This virtuous uſurper, after an adminiſtration
of ten years; was in his turn expelled from the
throne of Athens by that Erechthonius, the ſon
of Cecrops, whom Minerva fhut up in a cheſt
with his companion the dragon, and committed
to the keeping of his ſiſters : This is the perſon
whom Homer mentions in his ſecond book of
the Iliad by the name of Erechtheus : He is ce-
lebrated for having firſt yoked horſes to a cha-
riot, and alſo for introducing the uſe of ſilver
coin in Attica.
Primus Erechthonius currus et quatuor auſus
Jungere Equos, rapidiſq; rotis infiftere Victor.
But the inſtitutions which have rendered the
name of Erechthonius famous to all poſterity,
are thoſe of the Eleufynian Myſteries and the
feaſts of the Panathenæa. The firſt of theſe he
eſtabliſhed in honour of Ceres, on account of a
ſeaſonable ſupply of corn from the granaries of
Egypt, when the city and territory of Athens
ii. were
5.


N° 14. THE OBSERVER. 131
TIUNO
trata1
were in imminent danger of ſtarving by an
extraordinary drought: Theſe ſacred myſteries
were of Egyptian origin, and as they conſiſted
of forms and rites, unintelligible to the vulgar,
and probably very little comprehended even by
the initiated, the ſecret' was well kept.
As for the Panathenæa, they were inſtituted,
as their name indicates, in honour of Minerva
and were the great feſtival of the Athenians :
The celebration was originally comprized in
one day, but afterwards it was extended to ſeves
ral, and the various athletic games and races,
with the recitation of poems, that accompanied
it, attracted an immenſe reſort of ſpectators.
Every ſpecies of contention, both on foot and
horſeback, drew the bold and adventrous to the
field of fame,; whilſt the prizes for muſic and the
rival diſplay of the drama in after-times recreated
the aged, the elegant, and the learned: The
conquerors in the ſeveral games gave entertaina
ments to their friends, in which they preſided
crowned with olive in honour of the guardian
deity: Theſe were ſcenes of the greateſt feſti-
vity, till, when Athens had ſubmitted to the
Roman yoke, thoſe fanguinary conquerors intro-
duced the combats of gladiators into theſe favo-
rite folemnities. Every age had its ſhare in con-
tributing to the ſpectacle; the old men walked
K 2
R


122 THE OBSERVER. No 14,"
in proceſſion with branches of olive in their
hands, the young in armour with fhield and
fpear; the labouring peaſants with ſpades, and
their wives with water-buckets : The boys
crowned with garlands, and dreſſed in frocks
or furplices of white, chaunted hymns to Mi-
nerva ; and the girls followed with baſkets, in
which the facrificing utenſils were contained.
A ſuperſtition; ſupported by fplendor, and en-
livened with feſtivity, was well calculated to
keep a laſting hold upon the human minda
Nº XV.
T H E Eleufynian Myſteries, inſtituted by
1 Erechthonius, were celebrated in the time
of autumn every fifth year at Eleuſis, where a
great concourſe of people met upon the occaſion:
The ceremonies of initiation were preceded by
facrifices, prayers, and ablutions ; the candidates
were exerciſed in trials of fecrecy and prepared
by vows of continence; every circumſtance was
contrived to render the act as awful and ſtriking
as poſſible ; the initiation was performed at mid-
night, and the candidate was taken into an inte-
rior facriſty of the temple with a myrtle garland
on


N: 15. THE OBSERVER. 133
on his head; here he was examined if he had
duly performed his ſtated ablutions; clean hands,
a pure heart, and a native proficiency in the
Greek tongue were indiſpenſible requiſites ;
having paſſed this examination, he was admitted
into the temple, which was an edifice of im-
menſe magnitude; after proclamation made that
the ſtricteſt ſilence ſhould be obſerved, the offi-
ciațing prieſt took out the ſacred volumes con-
taining the myſteries; theſe books were written
in a ſtrange character, interſperſed with the
figures of animals and various emblems and
hieroglyphics; they were preſerved in a cavity
between two large blocks of ſtone, cloſely fitted
to each other, and they were carefully replaced
by the prieſt with much folemnity, after he had
explained what was neceſſary to the initiated out
of them. The initiated were enjoined to honour
their parents, to reverence the immortal gods,
and abſtain from particular forts of diet, particu-
larly tame fowls, fiſh, beans, and certain forts
of apples. .
When this was finiſhed the prieſts began to
play off the whole machinery of the temple in
all its terror; doleful groans and lamentations
broke out from the fane, thick and ſudden dark-
neſs involved the temple, momentary gleams of
light flaſhed forth every now and then with
K 3 tremblings,


134 THE OBSERVER. N° 15:
tremblings, as if an earthquake had Thaken the
edifice; ſometimes theſe coruſcations continued
long enough to diſcover all the ſplendor of the
ſhrines and images, accompanied with voices in
concert, dancings and muſic; at other times
during the darkneſs ſeverities were exerciſed
upon the initiated by perſons unſeen; they were
dragged to the ground by the hair of their heads,
and there beaten and laſhed, without knowing
from whom the blows proceeded, or why they
were indicted: Lightnings and thunderings and
dreadful apparitions were occaſionally played off
with every invention to terrify and aſtoniſh; at
length upon a voice crying out Conx! Ompax !
the ceremony was concluded and the initiated
diſmiſſed. The garment worn upon this occa-
fion was not to be laid aſide, whilſt it would
hang together, and the ſhreds were then to be
dedicated at ſome ſhrine, as a tattered trophy
of the due performance of the myſteries of
Ceres.
Theſe initiations were conceived to lead to
the enjoyment of a happier lot in this life, and
to fit a man for a more dignified place amongit
the bleſt hereafter ; and they were in ſuch gene-
ral reſpect, that it afforded great cauſe of re-
proach againſt Socrates, for having neglected
his initiation. The vows of ſecrecy and the
penalties


N° 15. THE OBSERVER. 135
penalties to be inflicted on violation, were as
binding as could poſſibly be deviſed.
Hitherto the riſing ſtate of Athens had not
been engaged in war, but no ſooner was it in-
volved in diſputes with the Eleuſynians on ac-
count of ſome prædatory incurſions, than the
idea took its riſe of devoting human victims to
appeaſe the hoſtile divinities and to purchaſe
conqueſt by the oblation of what was deareſt
and moſt valuable in life.
As we are now approaching towards the time
of Homer, who records inſtances of this fort, it
may be curious to mark when that ſavage ſuper-
ftition had its origin. No example occurs to
me in Grecian ſtory antecedent to Erechtho-
nius, who in obedience to an oracle, ſacrificed
one of his daughters, and ſome fay all, to pur-
chaſe thereby ſucceſs againſt the Eleufynians.
It is however a matter of leſs wonder than regret
how this idea ſhould obtain ſo generally; wheni
a people are in the habit of making animal ſacri-
fices a part of their worſhip, and whoſe religion
it is to believe that interceſſion can be made
to the gods, and favours obtained by the blood
of victims taken from the brute creation, the
thought of aſcending a ſtep higher in the dignity
of the oblation naturally leads to the hope of
purchaſing a greater reward. With theſe ideas
K 4
enthuſiaſtic


136 THE OBSERVER. N° 15,
enthuſiaſtic ſpirits, like Decius and Curtius
amongſt the Romans, ruſhed upon ſelf-deſtruc-
tion, and Erechthonius, king of Athens, devoted
his daughter, Codrus himſelf-If the blood of bulls
and goats and the aſhes of a briſer, ſprinkling the
unclean, fun&tiſieth to the purifying of the flesh, how
much more ſhall the blood, &c. &c. &c. There is
a wild magnanimity in the idea highly captiva-
ting: Cicero more than once alludes to this
action of Erechthonius, and in his oration for
Sextus exclaims--Shall I after ſo many illuftri-
ous deeds ſhrink from death, which even the daugh.
ters of Erechthonius, with all the weakneſs of their
ſex about them, reſigned themſelves to without res
gret? Let the mind be poflefled with the per-
ſuaſion of immortal happineſs annexed to the act,
and there will be no want of candidates to ſtrug-
gle for the glorious prerogative. Erechthonius
and his daughters were aſſociated to the deities
after their death, aliars were dedicated and a
temple crected to them in the citadel of Athens,
where divine honours were paid to their memo-
pies, The Eleuſynians were defeated and de,
fpoiled of all they poſleſed, except the myſteries
of Ceres abovementioned; of theſe they were
left in undiſturbed enjoyment: Their king Eur
molpus was Nain ing battle, but Neptune, whole
fon


No 15. THE OBSERVER. 137
ſon he was, revenged his loſs by ſtriking his
conqueror dead with his trident.
Thys periſhed Erechthonius by immortal
hands, if we take the authority of Euripides the
tragic poet, after he had reigned fifty years in
Athens; In his time the people of Attica, here-
tofore called Cecropians, took the name of
Athenians : Ovid, whoſe metamorphoſes mix
much ancient truth with fable, fays that this
prince at his death left it doubtful with pofterity,
whether he excelled moſt in juſtice as a King, or .
in military glory as a General,
Ægeus, the reputed father of Theſeus, was
the eighth king of Athens, reckoning from Ce-
crops, and ſon of Pandion II. grandſon of Erech-
thonius, the crown haying deſcended regularly
from father to fon through ſeveral generations ;
After remaining childleſs for feveral years he
conſulted the oracle at Delphị upon the mode
of obtaining an heir ; to a very plain queſtion bc
obtained a very obſcure anſwer, and, not being
able to ſolve the ænigma himſelf, conſulted ſeve-
ral perſons upon the interpretation of it, and
amongſt others his friend Pittheus, king of
Træzene, from whoſe fagacity he promiſed
himſelf a ſolution of the difficulty: This wiſe
prince had, a daughter named Æthra, and ſhe
having admitưed f£geus to a ſecret conſultation
by


138 THE OBSERVER. N° 15.
by night in the fane of Minerva, proved a
more able interpreter of the Delphic .oracle
than her father, and put Ægeus in poſſeſſion of
his wiſhes by bearing him a ſon : This fon was
the hero Theſeus, but it cannot be diſguiſed,
that a doubt was ſtarted, whether Neptune had
not a better claim to the child than Ægeus; for
the princeſs Æthra is charged with admitting both
viſiters in the ſame evening, and when the con-
troverſy lies between a mortal and an iinmortal.
lover, the moſt that can be ſaid for Ægeus is,
that it leaves the caſe doubtful. The king of
Athens put in his claim by leaving his ſword
and ſandals in cuſtody of Æthra, when he un-
derſtood ſhe was pregnant, enjoining her to let
the child, if he proved a ſon, remain at Tree-
zene, until he became adult and had ſtrength
enough to remove a block of ſtone, under which
he depoſited his pledges; on the hilt of the
ſword, which was ivory, he cauſed to be en-
graved his name and titles, and Ægeus declared
he would acknowledge the bearer of thoſe
pledges and adopt him as his heir: This being
done, he returned to Athens and celebrated the
Panathenea with uncommon ſplendor,
This monarch filled the throne of Athens for
the ſpace of forty-eight years and terminated
his life by caſting himſelf into the ſea, thence
, called


N° 15. THE OBSERVER: 139
called Ægean, in deſpair upon diſcovering the
vefſel, that brought his ſon Theſeus from his
Cretan expedition againſt the Minotaur, approach
the ſhores of Attica with black fails, when the
ſignal of life and victory was to be the contrary
diſplay of white ones, which Theſeus by a fatal
neglect had failed to put out upon his coming
in fight of the coaſt.
The impatient and deſpairing parent precipi-
tated himſelf into the ocean and the ſon fuc-
ceeded to his throne. There is no hero in anti-
quity, who for his magnanimity, his adventures,
or the exquiſite beauty and perfection of his per-
ſon has been more celebrated than Theſeus :
In ſome of the actions of his life he performed
real and diſtinguiſhed ſervices to his country; in
others he appears to have been governed mere-
ly by an extravagant and wild paſſion for adven-
ture: No hero has furniſhed more themes to the
poets, and few princes have at times deſerved
better of their ſubjects: By his valour in action
and the terror of his name he cleared many re-
gions of thoſe lawleſs clans of robbers and plun-
derers, with which they were infeſted to the
diſgrace and danger of ſociety: Ambitious to
emulate the fame of his contemporary Hercules,
he ſeems ſometimes to have forgotten that he
had ſubjects under his care and command, and
roved


140 THE OBSERVER, Nº 15.
roved about in queſt of adventures, the general
champion of diſtreſs and the ſworn exterminator
of monſters and tyrants, wherever they were ta
be found : Preceded by his axe-bearers in com.
memoration of his deſtruction of the robbers,
and carrying on his ſhoulder the ponderous
club of Corynætes, whom he vanquilhed, he
marched in triumph to Delphi, like another Her-
cules after his labours : The bulls of Crete and
Marathon and the Cremmyonian boar were tro-
phies, that might vie with the hydra; and Cor-
cyon, whom he flew, was as formidable a cham-
pion as Antæus, and fixed the triumph of agi-
lity over ſtrength: He killed Procruſtes, whole
couch was as fatal as the den of Cacus.
Theſeus upon his accellion to the government
of Attica reformed the ſtate of juſtice and amend-
od the condition of his ſubjects by many kingly
regulations; before his time the people were dif-
perſed about the country in Imall and ſeparated
clans, more like the ſettlements of fayages than
a regular community; the police of courſe was
very imperfect; the laws were merely local and
arbitrary, nor did they generally agree in the
ſame definition or diſtribution of juſtice; to re.
medy theſe evils he enlarged his capital, allem-
bled the people from all parts, fixed them to a
reſidence in Athens and eſtabliſhed general courts
of


No iš: THE OBSERVER. 141
of law and juſtice, where all his ſubjects might
reſort to decide their properties, or compoſe their
trongs, by ſtated rules and inſtitutes, expound-
ed and adminiſtered by judges competent to their
vocation:
Theſe are ſervices beneficial to mankind, the
actions of a patriot king and legiſlator, infinitely
fuperior to the extermination of boars or bulls
the unravelling a labyrinth, or conflicting with
a wreſtler. One ſhould have thought that the
sambling fpirit of Theſeus might henceforward
Have fubſided, and, if Hereules had not been upon
earth, this would probably have been the caſe,
and he would have defcended to pofterity one of
the greateſt characters in ancient hiſtory; but
the expedition againſt the Amazons drew him
out upon freſh and fooliſh adventures, and, though
his friendſhip and his amours may have furniſhed
pleaſing tales and fables to Heſiod and others,
the hiſtorian will do well to paſs over this period
of his life in filence and regret.
It ſuffices to relate that Meneſtheus took ada
vantage of his abſence and eſtabliſhed himfelf ſo
firmly in powers that Theſeus on his return
finding it impoſſible to diſpoſſeſs him of his uſurp-
ed authority retired to Scyros, and there either
put a voluntary end to his life, or was deſtroyed
by Lycomedes.
In


Nº. 16. THE OBSERVER.
143
N° XVI.
T HE expedition of the Greeks againſt Troy
1 has ſupplied a ſubject to an heroic poem,
which remains the wonder of all time and the
unrivalled ſtandard of the epic art. It muſt be
owned no poet ever made a happier choice, for
what could be more intereſting to a Grecian
reader than the recital of an action founded in
juſtice and terminated in ſucceſs? The event
itſelf was magnificent ; a coalition of the Grecian
ſtates in vindication of an injured prince, who
was one of their number. Had it recorded the
expedition of one great monarch againſt another,
it is eaſy to comprehend how much that brillianti
variety of character, which now gives ſuch draa.
matic luſtre to the compoſition, would have loſt
by the nature of ſuch a ſubject; whereas the
emulation of the rival leaders conſtitutes that
compound action, that ſtriking contraſt and dif-
crimination of character, which render the Iliad
ſo peculiarly enchanting. The juſtice of the une
dertaking fortifies the poet with a moral, which
ſecures the good opinion of his readers, and in-
tereſts them cordially in his cauſe; it is ſo per-
manent a pledge for their good wiſhes, that it
enables him to throw into the ſcale of the Tro."
jans


144 THE OB SERVER. Nó tố:
jans every epiſode of pity, every ornament of
magnanimity and valour, which can beautify his
poem without the danger of creating falſe preju-
dices in behalf of the offenders; in-fhort; we can
mourn for Hector and not regret the victory of
Achilles.
If Homer found theſe incidents ready to his
hands, their combination was ſupremely happy i
if he created them, his invention was almost mi-
raculous. The period at which he wrote was
no leſs fortunate, being neithet too remote to
impair the intereſt of his ſubject, nor fo near the
time of the action as to confine his fancy to the
limits of ſtrict hiſtorical truth. So wonderful
an aſſemblage of parts meet in this great work,
that there is not a paſſion in the human breaſt
but will find its ruling intereſt gratified by the
peruſal; and it is ſo happily contriyed, that the
combination of thoſe parts; multitudinous as
they are, never violates the uniformity of deſign ;
the ſubject remains ſimple and entire ; our ideas
never ſtray from the main object of the poem,
though they are continually carried out upon ex-
curſions through the regions of earth and heaven
upon the ſtrongeſt pinions of fancy. The man-
ner in which Homer employs his deities, with
the machinery that accompanies them, gives-art
amazing brilliancy to the pictureſque and de-
ſcriptive


N. 16. THE OBSERVER. 145
fcriptive powers of the poem; the virtues, vices,
prejudices, paffions of thoſe imaginary beings
ſet them on a level with human nature ſo far as
to give us an intereſt in their ſituations, which a
jufter repreſentation of fuperior eſſences could
not impart; while their immortality and power
are engines in the poet's hand, whoſe influence
is unlimited by the laws of nature; theſe extra-
ordinary perfonages, at the ſame time that they
take a part very eſſential to the action of the
drama, bring about the incidents by thoſe fudo
den and fupernatural means, which mortal he-
roes of the moſt romantic fort could not fo rea-
dily effect. This is an advantage on the part:
of a heathen poet, for which the Chriſtian writer
has no fubftitute ; for thoſe moderns, who in or-
der to create furprize have invented capricious
beings to produce extravagant events above the
reach of human powers, and below the dignity
of divine, violate our reaſon, whilft they ſtruggle
to amuſe our fancy; but the Pagan theoriſt can
find a deity for every purpoſe without giving
ſcandal to the believer, or revolting the philofo-
pher.
Amongſt the numberleſs excellencies of the
Iliad there is none more to be admired than the
correct preciſion, with which Homer draws his
characters and preſerves them uniformly through
VOL. I.
the


1,46 THE OBSERVER. N° 16.
the pocm; an excellence, in which Virgil and
the Roman poets in general are greatly his in-
feriors : With Homer's heroes we have more
than hiſtorical acquaintance, we are made inti-
mate with their habits and manners, and when-
ever he withdraws them for a time, we are
certain upon the next meeting to recognize
and acknowledge the ſame characteriſtic traces
that ſeparate each individual ſo decidedly from
all others.-But it is time to return to our
hiſtory.
. - After the death of Meneſtheus the crown of
Athens returned into the family of Theſeus, and
Demophon his ſon, who alſo was preſent at the
fiege of Troy, ſucceeded to his inheritance :
Oxyntes, Aphidas, and Thymætes reigned in
ſucceſſion after Demophon, and the line of the
Erechthidæ expired in the perſon of Thymætes.
This was a remarkable revolution, for that fa-
mily had poſſeſſed the throne of Athens for a
period of four hundred and twenty-nine years.
The monarchy, properly ſo called, was now
drawing to its concluſion ; Melanthus, who fuc-
ceeded to Thymætes, was a Meſſenian and a
deſcendant from Nelcus; he had been expelled
from Meſlene by the Heraclidæ, and had taken
refuge in the Athenian ſtate; he obtained the
crown by very honourable means ; Thymætes,
5.
being


N° 16. THE OBSERVER. 147
being challenged to ſingle combat by Xanthus
king of Boeotia, declined the challenge; Melan-
thus accepted it in his ſtead, flew Xanthus, and
obtained the crown of Athens in reward for his
ſucceſs; at his death it devolved to his ſon Co..
drus. The manner in which this prince devoted
himſelf to death for his country ſcarce needs a
recital, but it is not generally known that Co-
drus was in a very advanced age, when this
event took place, and moreover that the Atheni-
ans urged him to the deed upon the report of
Cleomantis, a citizen of Delphi, who made them
acquainted with the anſwer of the oracle touch-
ing the conditions, on which vi&tory was to be
obtained. The Athenians, having prevailed
with Codrus to embrace the fatal conditions of
their deliverance, facrificed their aged monarch,
and impreſſed with the perſuaſion that Apollo
would verify his prediction, fought and over-
came their enemy.
Codrus being dead, the government of Athens
underwent a material revolution, for the popular
party, pretending a reſpect to his memory, put
forward a decree prohibiting any other perſon to
reign in Athens by the title of King; the change
however for the preſent was more nominal than
efTential, for they did not alter the fucceffion, nor
materially reduce the power of the monarchy.
L2
The


148 IILE OBSERVER. N 16.
The Prince, or perpetual Archon, (for euh title
js uſed occalionally) held the government for
life, ſubject not with Nanding to account to the
Rate for his adıniniftration of public afluirs,
Medon, fom of Coirus, lucceeded to his father
by this new title : Thirteen primes reigned un-
der this deliription from Medon to Alcmcon
inclusive, comprehending a period of three hun-
died and leven years,
Sonic authorities maintain that Ilomer came
to Athens in the time of Medon, and was hof-
pitably received by that prince; but it is gene-
tally thought the age of Homer does not anſwer
to this date, and that he was born about two
hundred years after the ſiege of Troy; this falls
within the time of Archippur, granulon of Mc-
don, and third perpetual arc hon; in the begin-
ning of whole reign Ichiod was born ; Homer
fome few years after at the cloſe of it: Archip-
pus reigned nineteen years, and this ära ſeems
eſtabliſhed by the beſt chronologiſts. ,
Archippus, at the concluſion of whoſe admi.
niftration we have placed the birth of Homer,
was ſucceeded by Therlippus, who held the go-
vernment of Athens for a long incumbency of
forty-one years, and he was ſucceeded by Phor-
bas, who was thirty years archon, in the period
of


No 16. THE OBSERVER. 149
of theſe ſeventy-one years we have the Athenian
æra of the life of Homer.
This however muſt in fome degree be left to
opinion, for before the inſtitution of the Olympi-
ads the Grecian chronicles are ſo vague and ob-
fcure that the precife age of Homer will for ever
remain a ſubject of conjecture. The above pe-
riod has at leaſt the merit of holding a middle
place between their opinions, who ſuppoſe he
was born loon after the fiege of Troy and ſuch
as contend he was contemporary with Lycurgus,
The late Mr. Robert Wood, in his eſſay on the
original genius and writings of Homer, inclines
to think the Iliad and Odyſſey were finiſhed
about half a century after the capture of Troy;
he has offered internal evidence in ſupport of
this opinion in Homer's account of the family
of Æneas, and his arguinent is acutë and criti-
cal: They, who make him contemporary with
Lycurgus, have internal evidence againſt them,
which, though perhaps it does not ſerve to eſta-
bliſh Mr. Wood's poſition, certainly confutes
the latter chronologiſts. Ariſtotle places Homer
in the fame epoch with Iphiţus and the firſt
Olympiad, but he reſts his conjecture upon the
weakeſt of all arguinents; whilſt the beſt autho.
sities, as well as the majority in number, point
L 3


150 THE OBSERVER. N° 16.
to the period which I have ſuggeſted; and here
for the preſent I will leave it.
The laſt but one of the perpetual archons was
Æſchylus, and in the ſecond year of his go-
vernment the Olympiads were firſt inſtituted
by Iphitus at Elis; from this period we ſhall
proceed with greater chronological preciſion.
The ſucceſſor of Æſchylus and the laſt of the
perpetual archons was Alcmæon. The people
of Athens had new-modelled their government
upon the death of Codrus by aboliſhing the title
of King, and reducing their chief magiſtrate to
be in fact rather the firſt ſubject of the ſtate,
than the monarch: This regulation appears to
have been effected without any ſtruggle on the
part of the reigning family; thirteen archons in
ſucceſſion had now been permitted to hold the
government for life, when upon the expiration
of Alcmæon's adminiſtration, the people thought
fit by a freſh reform to limit the duration of the
chief magiſtracy to the term of ten years, Cha-
rops, brother of Alcmæon and ſon of Æſchylus,
was the firſt decennial archon; and this revolution
took place in the firſt year of the ſeventh Olym-
piad. Whilſt the Athenian ſtate was by theſe
ſteps enlarging its liberties, Romulus and Remus
were forming the embryo of a mighty empire fated
in the courſe of time to become miſtreſs of the
world ;


No 16. THE OBSERVER. 151
world; theſe adventurers collected a body of
Latin ſhepherds, amongſt whom they had been
educated, and, ſettling themſelves on the Pala-
tine Mount, became the founders of Rome:
This event is ſuppoſed to fall within the period
of the ſeventh Olympiad, when Charops was
decennial archon. It is generally ſuppoſed that
this mighty empire was ſet in motion from one
ſpark, which Greece had ſcattered from the con-
flagration of Troy, and which lighted on the
ſhores of Italy, where it was kept alive for more
than four centuries, till Rome was founded;
but Æneas's Italian colonization is a very queſ-
tionable point, and I am inclined to agree with
Mr. Wood in his treatiſe abovementioned, that
the poſterity of Æneas did not migrate into
Italy, but eſtabliſhed themſelves in the. Troade
and reigned over the ſcattered remains of the
Trojans after the deſtruction of Iļium... i
A revolution of eighteen Olympiads produced
a third change in the conſtitution of 'the Athe-
nian government in favour of popular freedom,
by limiting the archons to one year, making the
magiſtracy annual ; Neither was, this all, for the
çommand was no longer lodged in the hands of
one perſon only, but of nine, the firſt of which
was ſtiled by pre-eminence Archon, and from
him the year had its name; the ſecond, intitled
L 4
Baſileus,


152 THE OBSERVER. N° 16.
Baſileus, took charge of religious ceremonies,
and the Polemarc, or third in office, had the
conduct of military affairs, whilft all civil and
judicial buſineſs was referred to the coun-
cil of the remaining fix, called Thefmotheta.
None but pure Athenians of three deſcents
could be choſen by lot into this council ; an oath
of office was adminiſtered to them publicly in
the portico of the palace, purporting that they
would execute the laws with juſtice and fidelity,
and take no gifts either from their clients or the
people at large. When they had performed
their annual functions, and acquitted themſelves
without impeachment, they were in courſe ag-
gregated to the Areopagites, and held that dig-
nity for life. Every thing relating to the care
of orphans and widows, or the eſtates of minors,
was veſted in the principal magiſtrate, properly
ſtilcd Archon; he had the charge of divorces
and the ſuperintendance of the parents and chil-
dren of ſoldiers, who fell in battle, and of all
fuch citizens who were maintained at the pub-
lic charge.
Of theſe annual archons Crcon was the firſt,
and was elected about the twenty-fourth Olym,
piad.
N” XVII,


154 THE OBSERVER. N° 17,
tion of ſociety, than for its reformation. We
muſt however admit the difficulty of deviſing
any code of penal ſtatutes, by which degrees of
puniſhment ſhall be equitably proportioned to
degrees of offence. We have no experience or
hiſtory of any ſuch code now exiſting, or that
ever did exiſt. A citizen of the world will not
eſtimate crimes and offences by the ſame rule
and ſtandard as a citizen of any one particular
community will ; local circumſtances will give
fainter or deeper colourings to crimes according
to the peculiar conſtitution of the ſtate, againſt
which they are committed: The Athenians in
the time of Draco were governed by annual ma-
giſtrates, the adminiſtration of theſe magiſtrates
was made ſubject to popular enquiry upon its
termination; they had expunged from their con-
ftitution the wholeſome though high-founding
principle, that a king cannot do wrong; it was
now become ſcarce poſſible that his ſubſtitute
could do right; the people fat in judgment on
their governors, and many of the moſt virtuous
citizens in the ſtate ſuffered under their fen-
tence: Fear reſtrained the timid from exertion,
and the allurements of power debauched the in-
tereſted and ambitious from their duty; whilft
the magiſtrate aimed at popularity, the people
became intolerably licentious. The rigour of
Draca


N° 17. THE OBSERVER. 155
----
Draco impreſſes us with a high idea of his pu-
rity of principle; his abhorrence of the abuſes
of his predeceſſors in office, and his indignation
againſt the depravity of his fellow-citizens em:
bittered his mind, and made him rather. a miſan-
thrope, than a ſtateſman. . . . .
Draco ſeems to have conſidered the commif-
fion of crimes, not in proportion to their offence
againſt ſociety, but according to the principle of
the criminal, holding a tranſgreſſor equally guil-
ty, whether he broke the law in the leaſt tittle,
or in its greateſt extent; for he puniſhed indif-
criminately with death in both caſes : In this
there is as little wiſdom as mercy, and it is to
the honour of Solon that he revoked ſuch uns
diſtinguiſhing and bloody laws. Juſtly to aſcer-
tain and define the various degrees of human
depravity is impracticable for thoſe who cannot
ſearch the human heart; nor in the nature of
things is it poſſible for any man, or council of
men, to form a ſyſtem of puniſhments to meet
the ſeveral degrees and definitions of crimes with
proportioned retribution : Sentence of death is
at once the higheſt exertion of authority one
fellow-creature can exerciſe over another and
the heavieſt atonement any offender can make
to the laws of that ſociety, in which he is inliſt-
ed; Draco excuſed himſelf from the charge of
indiſcriminate


156 THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
indiſcriminate rigour by pleading that he could
deviſe no puniſhment greater than death; the
nature of the plca gives an inſight into the cha-
racter of the man, that needs no cominent; it is
plain however that he had no idea of aggravating
death by tortures; he did not know, or would
not practiſe, thoſe deteſtable arts and refinements,
which now prevail in too many parts of the Chrif-
tian world, of extorting criminations and confef-
fions by heightening the agonies of death. The
ſhort duration of his authority, as I before obſerva
ed, precipitated him upon this fyſtem of ſeverity,
which time and reflection would probably have
corrected: A haſty reformer is equally to be
dreaded with a deliberate tyrant; legal cruelty
is of all moſt terrible; a law once made is made
to be executed; the will of the judge cannot
mitigate it, and the power of the ſovereign cani
only releaſe from puniſhment, but not apportion
or modify it: Herein conſiſts the irreparable
defect of all eſtabliſhed rules of fixed puniſh-
ment; to include different degrees of criminality
under one and the ſame degree of penalty is not
ſtrict equity, but to live without laws at the
arbitrary diſpoſal of any human tribunal is flavery
of the moſt inſupportable fort.
By Draco's laws an Athenian was equally
guilty of death, whether he pilfered a cabbage or
murdered
•


N° 17. THE OBSERVER. 157
murdered a citizen: Horrible decree! If the
principle of puniſhment does not conſiſt in re-
venging what is paſt, but in preventing the cul.
prit from repeating and the community from
ſuffering the likę or any other offence from the
fame perſon, it may well be doubted if death.
need be inflicted in any caſe ;, the terror of ex-
ample, not the ſpirit of revenge, muſt conſtitute
the neceſſity, of ſuch a mode of puniſhment, if
any neceſſity exiſts; but if puniſhments may be
deviſed, hy which guilty perſons ſhall be made
to atone to ſociety, without cutting them from
it, and if theſe puniſhments may be ſuch as ſhall
deter and terrify the evil-minded equally with
death itſelf, policy, independent of religion, will
be intereſted to adopt them.
It was not to be expected that the Athenians
would be remedied by ſuch ſanguinary laws as
theſe of Draco, and they had been in operation
nearly half a century, when Solon in the third
year of the forty-ſixth Olympiad found the peo-
ple in as much need of reformation, as Draco
did in the beginning of the thirty-fifth Olym-
piad.
Solon was of noble birth and of an elevated
foul; he was a friend to liberty, btat a lover of.
order ; deſcended from Codrus, he was a patriot
by inheritance ; though he was a great adept in
the


158 THE OBSERVER. N° 1.
the philoſophy of the times, it neither ſoured his
manners nor left him without attention to the
public: When he withdrew himſelf from the
world for the purpoſes of ſtudy and contempla-
tion, it was to render himſelf a more uſeful citi-
zen on his return to ſociety: With a fortune
rather below mediocrity he had ſuch a ſpirit of
beneficence and generoſity, that he was obliged
in his youth to apply himſelf to commerce to
ſupport his independence: Solon's philoſophy
did not boaſt any unnatural contempt of pain or
pleaſure; he affected no apathy; on the contrary,
when he was reproached for weeping at the
death of his ſon, as if it was unbecoming of a
wiſe man to bewail an evil he could not reme-
dy, he anſwered with a modeſt ſenſibility of his
weakneſs, that it was on that very account he
did bewail it.
The anecdote Plutarch gives us of Solon's in-
terview with his contemporary Thales, and the
ſilly method that philoſopher took for convincing
Solon of the advantages of celibacy by employ-
ing a fellow to make a falſe report to him of
his ſon’s death, heightens our affection for the
man, without lowering our reſpect for the fage :
Thales in the true ſpirit of fophiſm triumphed in
the ſuperiority of his wiſdom by avoiding thoſe
connections, which ſoften the human heart, and
vainly


N° 17. THE OBSERVER. 159
vainly ſuppoſed he ſunk the dignity of Solon's
character by expoſing to ridicule the tender
feelings of the father.
· The Athenians were exhauſted by a tedious
and unproſperous war with the people of Me-
gara; the important iſland of Salamis was loſt,
and ſuch was their deſpair of ever recovering it,
that they paſſed a law for making it a capital
offence in any citizen to propoſe the retaking
it; Solon, who regarded this degrading edict
with honeſt indignation, feigned himſelf inſane
and ruſhing into the forum harangued the po-
pulace, abrogated the edict and declared war
againſt the Megarenſians : On this occaſion he
addreſſed the people in elegiac verſes of his
own compoſing, one hundred in number; the
power of his muſe prevailed, for it was great ;
the people gave him the command of an expedi-
tion againſt Salamis, in which he had the good
fortune to reduce that iſland and re-annex it to
his country, which had made ſuch public avowal
of its deſpair.
Solon is ſo highly celebrated as a poet, that:
ſome ancient authorities have equalled him to
Hefiod and even to Homer: We have few and
ſmall remains, but many teſtimonies of his wrie.
tings; in particular we are informed, that he
compoſed five thouſand verſes on the common-
wealth


160 THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
wealth of Athens, recording the tranſactions of
his own time, not as a hiſtory in praiſe, but in
defence of himſelf, and with the view to encou-
rage his count: ymen to perált in a courſe of
public virtue and private morality. He wrote
iambics alſo and odes, and compoſed even his
laws in verſe, of which Plutarch has quoted the
exordium.
He employed ſtratagem in the reduction of
the iſland of Salamis, but, as the celebrated Piſie
ſtratus was joined with him in this enterprize,
it muſt not be diſguiſed that ſome authorities
give the ſucceſs of the expedition to Piſiſtratus ;
both were men of conſummate addreſs and re-
ſource, and each no doubt had his ſhare of merit
in the ſervice; the reputation Solon gained by
this event was ſtill increaſed by his conduct in
the defence of the famous temple of Delphi
againſt the facrilegious Cirrhæans; though he
was only aſſeſſor to the general Clifthenes the
Sicyonian in this campaign, the ſucceſsful ter-
mination of the war by the capture of Cirrha
was univerſally attributed to Solon.
Athens was now rent by popular feuds and
diſſenſions; the commonwealth was in imminent
peril, every thing tending to civil tumult and
confuſion, and the people in a ſtate little ſhort
‘of abſolute anarchy: In this extremity every
eye


366 THE OBSERVER. N° 18.
deration of their ancient dignity, nor inſpire
them with a becoming ſenſe of the value of li-
berty, laid aſide his arms, and ſuſpending them
at the door of the Court-houſe, took a ſhort but
pathetic leave of Athens, and once again retired
into voluntary baniſhment : Whither is not di-
ftinctly aſcertained; many preffing invitations
were addreſſed to him from different parts, and
I am inclined to think he accepted that of Cree-
ſus king of Lydia, and that he cloſed an illuftri-
ous life in extreme old age in the iſland of Cy-
prus. His afhes by his expreſs direction were
tranſported to his native iſland of Salamis and
there depoſited, The Athenians erected his Ita-
tue in braſs, but Pififtratus revoked his laws :
The laws of Draco, notwithſtanding their feve,
rity, were in execution for a longer period than
the mild and prudent ordinances of Solon. The
people it is true never wholly forfeited their rem
{pect for this excellent perſon, but they were un,
worthy of him;, even Pififtratus amidit the ſtrug-
gles of ambition offered no inſult to his perſon,
and every country, which his fame had reached,
preſented an aſylum to the venerable exile.
As an orator Solon ſtands high in point of
merit, and firſt in order of time : As a poet, his
genius was ſublime, various, and fuent; in fub-
jects of fiction and fancy he never dealt; but,
though


No 18. THE OBSERVER. 164
though he choſe his topics with the grávity of a
ftateſman, ånd håndled them with the fidelity of
án hiſtorian, he compoſed with ardour, and never
failed to fire his hearers with the recitation of
his poems: He is ſuppoſed to have reprobated
the drama, but, if this be a fact, we may well
concludé, that it was the old corrupt maſque of
Bacchus and the Satyrs, of which he fignified his
didiké, and in this he is warranted. In two ex-
peditions, where he had a military command, he
was eminently ſucceſsful, and gained a high de-
grée of glory: No ſtateſman ever food in times
morë perilous, no citizen ever refifted more al-
luring offers of ambition, and no legiſlator ever
regulated a more diſorderly community: Tho?
devoted to the ſtudy of philoſophy, and a great
maſter in the early ſcience of the times, he mix-
ed with chearfulneſs in fociety, was friendly and
convivial, and did not hold back from thoſe ten-
dér ties and attachments, which corinect a man
to the world, and which by ſome have been con-
fidered incompatible with a life devoted to wil-
dom and ſublime philoſophy: Strict in his morals
as Draco, he was not like him diſpoſed to put
criminals to death, whilſt there was any hope of
conducting them by gentle meaſures to repent-
ance: His modeſty was natural and unaffected,
and though he was generally ſilent in company,
M 4
his


168 THE OBSERVER. N° 18.
his ſilence threw no damp upon feſtivity, for it
did not favour of ſullenneſs, and he was known
to be a friend to the uſe of wine with freedom,
but without exceſs: At the meeting of the ſeven
celebrated ſages (his contemporaries and col-
leagues in wiſdom) when they were entertained
by Periander at Corinth, the golden ſalver, which
the Mileſian fiſhermen had dragged out of the
ſea in their net, and which the Delphic oracle
upon reference of the controverſy had decreed to
the wiſeſt man of the age, was by general ſuffrage
given to Solon ; each perſon, with becoming de-
ference to the others, had ſeverally declined the
prize, but Solon was at length conſtrained to re-
ceive it by concurrent vote of the whole allem-
bly.
Hiſtorians are not agreed upon the exact time
of Solon's departure froin Athens, and ſome
maintain that he continued there țill his death;
this is not probable ; but the reſult of the ac-
counts puts it out of doubt that he remained
there, whilſt there was any hope of compoſing
the diſturbances of the ſtate, and of reſtoring
its tranquillity and freedom under the prudent re-
gulations he had eſtabliſhed, when he was Ar-
chon.
But no ſooner had this excellent citizen turn-
ed his back upon Athens, than all theſe hopes
periſhed


190 THE OBSERVER. No i8.
Whilft theſe party ſtruggles were in ſuſpente,
Piſiſtratus uſed an artifice for recommending
himſelf to the people, which was deciſive in his
favour: One day on a ſudden he ruſhed into the
forum, where the citizens were affembled; as if
he had been flying from affaffins, who were in
purſuit of him, and preſented himſelf to public
view defaced with wounds, and covered with
blood; he was mounted in his chariot, and the
mules that drew him were ſtreaming with blood
as well as himſelf: The crowd Hocked around
him, and in this ſituation without wiping his
wounds or difinounting from his chariot; he ha-
rangued the forum; he told them he had that
inftant eſcaped from the affaffinating fwords of
the nobles, who had cruelly attempted to deſtroy
the man of the people for his activity in oppoſing
the exactions of fordid creditors and ufurious
tyrants : His tears, his ſufferings, the beauty of
his perſon now freaming with blood, which he
had ſpilt in their cauſe, his military ſervices at
Megara, and his proteſtations of affection to the
people, in whofe defence he folemnly proteſted a
determination to perfift or perifh, all together
formed ſuch an addreſs to the paſſions, and pre-
fented ſuch a picture to the eye, that were irre-
fiftibly affecting.
Though it ſoon appeared in proof, that the
whole


N° 18. THE OBSERVER. 171
whole was artifice, and that all theſe wounds
about himfelf and his mules were of his own
giving for the impreſſion of the moment, ſtill
the moment ferved his purpoſe, and in the heat
of popular tumult he obtained a decree for grant-
ing him a body-guard, not armed as foldiers,
but with ſticks and clubs : At the head of this
defperate rabble he loft no time in forcing his
way into the citadel, and took poffefſion of it and
the commonwealth in the fame moment: He
next proceeded to exile the moſt powerful and
obnoxious of his opponents. Megacles and Ly-
curgus with their immediate adherents either fled
from the city or were forcibly driven out of it;
the revolution was.compleat.
The tumult having ſubſided, Piſiſtratus began
to look around him, and to take his meaſures for
fecuring himſelf in the authority he had ſeized:
For this purpofe he augmented his body-guard,
which, as they were firſt voted to him, confifted
only of fifty; theſe he endeavoured to attach to
his perſon by liberal payments, and whilft he
equipt them at all points like foldiers, he put a
cunning ſtratagem in practice by which he con-
trived to feize all the private arms of the citizens
and totally difmantled Athens : He ufed leſs cen
remony with the nobles, for he ſtripped them of
all weapons of offence openly and by force ; arid
now


172. THE OBSERVER. N° 18.
now he found himſelf, as he believed, in fafe
poffeffion of the ſovereign power and throne of
Athens.
This paſſed in the fifty-firſt Olympiad, when
Comias was archon.
It rarely happens that dominion, rapidly ob-
tained, proves firmly eſtabliſhed. The factions
of Megacles and Lycurgus were broken by this
revolution, but not extinguiſhed, and Pififtratus
either could not prevent their re-uniting, or per-
haps over-ſecurity made him inattentive to their
movements : He enjoyed his power for a ſhort
time, and was in his turn driven out of Athens
by thoſe he had exiled, and his effects were
put up to public ſale, as the property of an out-
law,
· Megacles and Lycurgus now divided the go-
vernment between them; this was a ſyſtem that
ſoon wrought its own overthrow; and Megacles,
finding his party the weaker, invited Pififtratus to
return to Athens, vainly imagining he could lull
his ambition and ſecure him to his intereſt by giv.
ing him his daughter Cæfyra in marriage. Piſi-
ſtratus accepted the terms, and obeyed the wel-
come recal, but it was in ſuch a manner, as might
have put the weakeſt man upon his guard, for his
return and entrance into Athens were accompa-
nied by one of the moſt barefaced attacks upon
public


N° 18. THE OBSERVER. 173
public credulity and ſuperſtition, that is to be
found in the hiſtory of man.
He had already ſucceeded in ſeveral hardy
ſtratagems, and all had been diſcovered after
they had ſerved his purpoſes. His pretended af-
faffination, his contrivances for arming his body-
guard and for difarming the citizens at large,
were all well known to the people, ſo that he
muſt have taken a very nice meaſure of their
folly and blindneſs, when upon his entering the
city he undertook to bring in his train a woman,
named Phæa, whom he dreſſed in the habit of
the goddeſs Minerva, and impoſed her on the
vulgar for their tutelar deity in perſon: He had
inſtructed her how to addreſs the people in his
behalf, commanding them to reinſtate him in his
power, and open the gates of the citadel at his
approach: The lady was ſufficiently perſonable
for the character ſhe aſſumed, and, as a proof of
her divinity, was of coloſſal ſtature: Extravagant
as the experiment may ſeem, it ſucceeded in all
points; the human deity was obeyed, and the
ingenious demagogue carried all before him :
This Grecian Joan of Arc received the adora-
tion of the ſuperſtitious vulgar in public, and the
grateful careſſes of the exulting tyrant in private:
The lady was not of very diſtinguiſhed birth and
fortune, for before ſhe took upon her the cha-'
raeter


174 THE OBSERVER. No 18.
racter of a goddeſs ſhe condeſcended to the more
tal occupation of a flower-girl, and made gar-
lands after the cuftom of the Greeks' for feaſts
and merry-makings: Piſiſtratus rewarded her
liberally by giving her in marriage to his ſon
Hipparchus ; a commodious reſource for diſ-
poſing of a caft-off goddeſs; as for himſelf, he
was engaged to Cæſyra: Phæa's marriage with
Hipparchus foon convinced the world that ſhe
was a mortal, but Piſiſtratus gave himſelf no
concern to prevent the diſcovery; in proceſs of
time it came to paſs, upon Pififtratus's fecond
expulſion, that Phæa was publicly impeached and
condemned upon the charge of læfæ Majeſtatis.
Nº XIX.
DISISTRATUS had been five years in
of exile, when Megacles brought about his
recal, and vainly thought to fix him in his inte-
reſt by giving him his daughter Cæfyra in mar-
riage ; ſuch alliances rarely anſwer the political
ends for which they are made : Piſiſtratus had
feveral fons by his firſt wife, and having re-
eſtabliſhed himſelf in the tyranny after the man-
8
ner


N° 19. THE OBSERVER. 175
ner we have been deſcribing, and beſtowed his
favorite Phæa upon his ſon Hipparchus, he took
the daughter of Megacles as the condition of his
contract with her father, but with a fixed deter.
mination againſt a fecond family, whoſe preten-
ſjons might come in competition with thoſe of
his children by his firſt marriage, in whoſe favour
hę wiſhed to ſecure the ſucceſſion, and who both
by age and capacity were fit for government,
whenever it ſhould devolve upon them.
Cæfyra put up with her huſband's neglect for
ſome time, but at length ſhe imparted her diſguſt
to her mother, and ſhe of courfe communicated
it to Megacles. Juſtly offended by the indignity
of ſuch treatment, Megacles immediately took
his meaſures with the enemies of his ſon-in-law
for his ſecond expulfion, prudently diſguiſing his
reſentment, till he was in a condition to put it
in force: It did not long eſcape the penetration
of Piſiſtratus, but when he came to the know-
ledge of the conſpiracy that had been formed
againſt his power, he found himſelf and party
too weak to oppoſe it, and ſeizing the hour of
fafety, made a voluntary abdication by retiring
into. Eretria without a ſtruggle and in the utmoſt
precipitation.
Megacles and his friends ſeem to have cone
ſidered this ſeceſſion of Piſiſtratus as deciſive, or.
elle


176 THE OBSERVER. No 19.
elſe the time did not allow them to follow it by
any active meaſures for preventing his return:
Eleven years howerer paſſed and fill he remain-
ed an exile from Athens; old as he was, his am-
bition does not feem to have cooled, nor was he
idle in the interim ; he had an interview with his
fons in Eretria and concerted meaſures with them
for his reſtoration; he formed alliances with ſe-
veral of the Grecian cities, particularly Thebes
and Argos, and obtained a ſeaſonable ſupply of
money, with which he enliſted and took into his
pay a confiderable army of mercenaries, and be-
gan hoſtilities in the Athenian ſtate by ſeizing
upon Marathon. This ſucceſsful meaſure drew
out many of his ſecret partiſans from Athens to
join him in this place, where the promiſing aſpect
of his affairs and the popularity of his character
had induced great numbers to reſort to his ſtan-
dard: Thus reinforced he put his army in mo-
tion and directed his march towards the city.
“The ruling party at Athens haſtily collected
troops to oppoſe his approach and put them un-
der the command of Leogaras, who no ſooner
took the field againſt Pififtratus, than he ſuffered
himſelf and army to be ſurprized by that experi-
enced general and Aled in diſorder over the coun-
try; 'the politic conqueror ſtopped the purſuit
and diſpatched his fons after the fugitives to af-
fure


178 THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
tulation of the Athenian hiſtory to the laſt
period of the reign of Pififtratus, we are arrived
at the point of time, in which that remarkable
æra commences, which I call The Literary
age of Greece: 'It was now that Pififtratus con-
ceived the enlarged and liberal idea of inſti-
tuting the firſt public library in Greece, and of
laying it open to the inſpection and reſort of the
learned and curious throughout the kingdoms
and provinces of that part of the world-Libros
Athenis diſciplinarum liberalium publice ad legen-
dum præbendos primus poluiſſe dicitur Piſiſtratus
tyrannus. (Aul. Gell. cap. xvii. lib. vi.) — Thro'
a long, though interrupted, reign of three and
thirty years he had approved himſelf a great en-
courager of literature and a very diligent col-
lector of the works of learned men: The com-
piler of the ſcattered rhapſodies of Homer, and
the familiar friend of the great epic poet Orpheus
of Croton (author of the Argonautics) he was
himſelf accompliſhed in the learning of the age
he lived in ; and, whilſt his court became a place
of reſort for contemporary genius, he puſhed his
reſearches after the remains of the ancient poets
and philoſophers through every ſpot, where the
liberal ſciences had been known to flouriſh; col-
lecting books in Ionia, Sicily, and throughout
all the provinces of Greece with much coft and
· diligence;
3


N° 19. THE OBSERVER. 179
diligence; and having at length compleated his
purpoſe and endowed a library with the treaſures
of the time, he laid it open to all readers for the
edification of mankind-Who of thoſe times fur-
paſſed him in learning (ſays Cicero) or what orator
was more eloquent or accompliſhed than Piſiſtratus,
who firſt diſpoſed the works of Homer in that order of
compilation we have them at this very time? (De
Orat. iii. 137.)
The inſtitution of this library forms a ſignal
epoch in the annals of literature, for from this
period Attica took the lead of all the provinces
of Greece in arts and ſciences, and Athens
henceforward became the ſchool of philoſophers,
the theatre of poets, and the capital of taſte and
elegance, acknowledged to a proverb throughout
the world. From this period to the death of
Menander the comic poet an illuſtrious ſcene
preſents itſelf to our obſervation. Greece, with
unbounded fertility of genius, ſent a flood of
compoſitions into light, of which, although few
entire ſpecimens have deſcended to poſterity,
yet theſe with ſome fragments, and what may be
further collected on the ſubject from the records
of the ſcholiaſts and grammarians, afford abundant
matter for literary diſquiſition.
It is painful in the extreme to reflect upon the
ravages of time, and to call to mind the hoſt of
N 2
authors


189 THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
authors of this illuminated age, who have periſh-
c b; the irruptions of the barbarous nations.
When we meditate on the magnificence of the
ancient buildings of Greece and Rome, the mind
is ſtruck with awe and' veneration ; but thoſe
impresſions are of a very melancholy caſt, when
we conder that it is from their preſent ruins we
are now meaſuring their paſt ſplendor ; in like
manner from a few reliques of ancient genius
we take a mournful eſtimate of thoſe prodigious
collections, which, till the fatal conflagrations at
Alexandria, remained entire and were without
compariſon the moſt valuable treaſure upon
earth.
Piſiſtratus, as we have obſerved, eſtabliſhed
the firſt public library in Greece; Xerxes plun-
dered Athens of this collection much augmented
by the literary munificence of Hipparchus and
the ſucceeding archons : Xerxes was not, like
the barbarians of the lower ages, inſenſible to the
treaſure he had pofiefied himſelf of; on the con-
trary, he regarded theſe volumes as the moſt ſolid
fruits of his expedition and imported them into
Perſia, as ſplendid trophies of his triumph on
his return. Seleucus, firnamed Nicanor, after-
wards reſtored this library to Athens with a
princely magnanimity. The kings of Pergamus
alſo became great collectors, and the Pergamzan
library
---
----


Nº 19. THE OBSERVER. 181
library grew into much reputation and reſort. .
But of all the libraries of antiquity that collected
at Alexandria by the Ptolemies of Egypt was
much the moſt reſpectable. 'Athenæus ſays (p. 3.)
that Ptolemy Philadelphus purchaſed the Perga-,
mæan library, and in particular the books col-
lected by Nileus, principally conſiſting of the
Greek dramatiſts, which with what he got at
Athens and Rhodes, furniſhed the great library
at Alexandria with forty thouſand volumes.
This library was unhappily ſet on fire, when
Julius Cæfar found it neceſſary to burn his ſhips
in the docks at Alexandria ; ſo Plutarch ſtates
the caſe ; but Aulus Gellius fays they were ſet
on fire accidentally by the auxiliary troops--non
fponte, neque opera conſulta, ſed a militibus forte
auxiliariis incenta funt,--This misfortune was in
a great meaſure repaired by the library which
Marc Antony preſented to Cleopatra, and by
fubſequent additions was encreaſed to ſuch an
amount, that when it was at laſt irretrievably
deſtroyed by the Caliph Omar, it conſiſted of
ſeven hundred thouſand volumes.
This amazing repoſitory of ancient ſcience
was buried in alhes by the well-known quib-
bling edict of that barbarous fanatic--If, fáid
the Caliph, thefe volumes contain doétrines con-
formable to the Koran, then is the Koran alone
N 3
ſufficient


182 · THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
ſufficient without theſe volumes; but, if what they
teach be repugnant to God's book, then is it fitting
they were deſtroyed.—Thus, with falſe reaſon for
their judge and falſe religion for their executioner,
periſhed an innumerable company of poets, phi-
loſophers, and hiſtorians, with almoſt every thing
elegant in art and edifying in ſcience, which the
moſt illuminated people on earth had in the
luxuriancy of their genius produced. In vain
did the philoſopher John of Alexandria intercede
to ſave them; univerſal condemnation to the
flames was the ſentence ignorance denounced
againſt theſe literary martyrs. The flow of wit,
the flights of fancy, and the labours of learning
alike contributed to feed the fires of thoſe baths,
in which the favage conquerors recreated them-
ſelves after the toils of the fiege. Need we en-
quire when art and ſcience were extinct, if dark-
neſs overſpread the nations ? It is a period too
melancholy to reflect upon and too vacant to
record: Hiſtory paſſes over it, as over the chart
of an ocean without a ſhore, with this cutting
recollection accompanying it, that in this ocean
are buried many of the brighteſt monuments of
ancient genius.
It appears that at the time Terence was wri-
ţing Rome was in poſſeſſion of two thouſand
Greek comedies; of all which, va barbaris! not
one


Nº 19. THE OBSERVER., 183
one hath deſcended to us, except what are found
in our ſcanty volume of Ariſtophanes, and theſe
are partly of the old perſonal claſs. The glean-
ings of a few fragments from the grammarians
and ſcholiaſts, with the tranſlations of the Roman
ſtage, are now the only ſamples of the Greek
comedy in its laſt purity and perfection. It is
true that writers of the lower ages, and even the
fathers of the Chriſtian church, have quoted libe-
rally from the new comedy of the Greeks; theſe
fragments are as reſpectable for their moral caſt,
as for their elegant turn of expreſſion ; but what
a poignancy do they give to our regret, when
we compute the loſs poſterity has ſuffered by the
ſcale of theſe remains !
On the part of tragedy, although very many
noble works have periſhed, yet as ſome ſpeci-
mens of the great maſters have come down to
us entire, we have more to conſole us in this
than in the comic department. Happily for the
epic muſe, the rage of ignorance could not reach
the immortal poems of Homer: What other
compoſitions of that great bard may have been
loſt to the world is but a dark enquiry at the
beft; many poems of an antecedent, and ſome of
a contemporary date, have undoubtedly been de-
ſtroyed; but I am inclined to think, that from
the time when thoſe wonderful productions of
N 4
the


184 THE OBSERVER. N° 19.
the Iliad and Odyſſey were collected and made
public at Athens till the Auguſtan ära little was
attempted in the epic branch. .
to th
Nº XX.
A T the ſame time that it is fair to ſuppoſe
Hl there muſt be more than ordinary merit
in men, who riſe to great opulence and condi-
tion in life from low beginnings, all the world
muſt be ſenſible of the danger attending ſudden
elevation, and how very apt a man's head is to
turn, who climbs an eminence, to which his
habits have not familiarized him. A mountaineer
can tread firm upon a precipice and walk erect
without tottering along the path, that winds
itſelf about the craggy cliff, on which he has his
dwelling; whilſt the inhabitant of the valley
travels with affright and danger over the giddy
paſs, and oftentimes is precipitated from the
heighth to periſh in the gulph beneath his feet.
Such is the fate of many, who by the revolutions
of fortune are raiſed to lofty ſituations : It is ge-
nerally the lot of ſuch people to make few friends ;
in their danger there are none to give them warn-
ings


Nº 20. THE OBSERVER. 185
ing, in their fall there are few to afford them
pity.
This is not the caſe with them, who are born
to the dignities they enjoy; the ſovereign, whoſe
throne is his inheritance, meets with pity and in-
dulgence; pity for the cares inſeparable from his
condition, indulgence for the failings and exceſſes
incidental to hereditary greatneſs; but the man,
who is the maker of his own fortune, acts on a
ſtage, where every ſtep he takes will be obſerved
with jealouſy; amongſt the many thouſands, who
are ſet to watch him, let him reflect how many
hearts there are, rankling with diſappointed pride,
and envying him the lot, which in their own
conceit at leaſt their merit had a better title to:
When ſuch a man appears, it is the common
cry—I cannot bear that upſtart.–At the ſame
time therefore that it muſt be allowed more na-
tural to excuſe the proud looks of the high, than
the proud looks of the low, ſtill it is no bad cau-
tion to beware of giving eaſy faith to reports
againſt thoſe; whom ſo many unſucceſsful people
are intereſted to decry; for though fortune can
do mighty things amongſt us, and make great
men in this world, ſhe cannot make friends.
If caution be neceſſary for ſuch as are only
lookers on upon theſe ſudden changes in the
ſcene of life, how much more wary ſhould he be,
who


186 THE OBSERVER. N° 20.
who by fortune's favour is the actor in it! Time
· paſt and preſent fo abounds in examples to put
him on his guard, that if he will not profit by
example, what hope is there that precept will
avail ? That any man ſhould grow arrogant, who
has once been dependant, is as unaccountable
for the folly of the thing, as it is for the baſeneſs
of it; it is as if a pedagogue ſhould turn tyrant,
becauſe he remembers to have ſmarted under the
laſh of the maſter when a ſchool-boy: And yet
there ſeems a principle in ſome natures, that in-
clines them to this deſpicable ſpecies of revenge,
by which they facrifice all claim to reaſon, repu-
tation, or religion. Dionyſius, though the cru-
elleſt of all tyrants, had moderation in a private
ſtation and made a good and patient ſchoolmaſter;
he handled the ſceptre like a rod, and the rod as
he ſhould have done a ſceptre. Are we to con-
clude from this and other inſtances, that hu-
manity may be learnt, by thoſe who deſcend from
power, but that men become tyrants by aſcend-
ing to it?
Is there in nature any thing ſo ridiculous as
'pride, ſo felf-deſtructive, ſo abſurd ? The man,
who riſes out of humble life, muſt have ſeen it,
felt it, and remarked its folly; he muſt have been
convinced that pride deprives itſelf of its own
proper object; for every proud man, who aſſumes
a ſuperi-


Nº 20. THE OBSERVER. 189
« With gums of paradiſe and eaſtern aire
"Q. And do you think to have the the stone with
this ?
“ A. No, I do think to have all this with the flone."
. (ALCHYMIST.)
Theſe are ſtrong colours; and though he has
dipped his pencil pretty liberally into the pallet
of the ancients, he has finely mixed the compo-
ſition with tints of his own; to ſpeak in the ſame
figure, we may ſay of this ſketch, that it is in
the very beſt ſtile of the maſter.
As I ſhould be loth however to offer none but
inſtances of the abuſe of proſperity, I am happy
in recollecting one very ſingular example of the
contrary ſort, though I go back to times far dif-
tant from our own to fetch it.
PISISTRATUS to SOLON.'
I am neither without example in ſeizing the
tyranny, nor without claim; foraſmuch as I de-
rive from Codrus, and take no more by force,
than I jould have inherited by right, if the Athe-
nians had never violated thoſe oaths of allegi-
ance, which in times paſt confirmed the preroga-
tive of my anceſtors. I live here without offence
towards men or gods ; neither tranſgrelling your
laws myſelf, nor permitting others to tranſgreſs
them : Judge therefore if the conſtitution you have
given


100 TI OD SERVER. N° 20.
given to Athens is not ſafer under my adminiſtra-
tion, than if entruſted to the diſcretion of the peo-
ple: No man ſuffers wrong under my government,
nor do I exakt any netu contributions from my
people, contenting myſelf with the tenths of their
produce, as by ancient uſage eſtabliſhed ; and theſe
I apply not to my own coffers, but to thoſe of the
ſtate, for defraying civil and religious expences,
and as a proviſion for the future exigencies of
war. Againt you, Solon, I harbour no ill will,
convinced that in your oppoſition to my meaſures,
you acted upon public, not perſonal motives : You
could not forcfee what uſe I was to make of pow-
er, and if you could have foreſeen it, I will per-
fuade myſelf you would neither have traverſed my
intereſts, nor withdrawn yourſelf from your coun-
try; return therefore I conjure you, return to
Aihens, and believe me on the word of a king
you have nothing to fear from Piſiſtratus, who
has not the heart as you well know, to annoy
even his enemies, much leſs ſo excellent a citizen
as Solon : Come then, if you are ſo diſpoſed, and
be received into the number of my deareſt friends ;
but if you are reſolved againſt returning, remem-
ber it is your own choice; and, if Solon is loft
to his country, Pififtratus is acquitted of being
the cauſe of it. Farewell.
SOLON


N° 20. THE OBSERVER. 191
SOLON to PISISTRATUS.
I can readily believe that you are incapable of
doing me any injury, if I was to return to Athens :
Before you was a tyrant I was your friend, and
am now no otherwiſe your enemy, than every Athe-
nian muſt be, who is adverſe to your uſurpation.
Whether it is better to be governed by the will
of one man, or by the laws of the commonwealth,
let every individual judge for himſelf; if I could
prefer a tyrant, certainly of all tyrants I Mould
prefer Pififtratus. As to my returning to Athens,
I do not think it for my honour, after having
founded the conſtitution of my country upon prin.
ciples of freedom, to come home upon motives of con-
venience, and give a ſcandal to mankind by ap-
pearing to acquieſce under that tyranny, which
you have forcibly aſſumed, but which I, when
voluntarily offered, thought proper to reject.
Farewell.
The above letters are to be found in Diogenes
Laertius, but the learned reader knows they are
generally ſuppoſed interpolations of the ſophiſts;
it muſt be owned however they are characteriſtic
of the writers, and, though they ought not to be
received as facts in hiſtory, may be read as a
ſpeech in Livy or Guicciardini. The following
anecdotes will throw a ſtronger light upon the
character


192 THE OBSERVER. N° 20.
character of Piſiſtratus, and as there is no rea-
ſon to queſtion their authenticity, they will
be unanſwerable witneſſes to the point in queſ-
tion.
« At an entertainment given by Piſiſtratus to
ſome of his intimates, Thraſippus, a man of vi-
olent paſſions and enfamed with wine, took ſome
occaſion not recorded to break out into the moſt
virulent abuſe and inſult: Piſiſtratus, who had
made no reply to his invectives, fearing that the
feſtivity of his gueſts ſhould be interrupted by
the miſconduct of Thraſippus, who was now got
up and leaving the room, roſe from his ſeat and
entreated him to ſtay, aſſuring him that nothing
he had faid ſhould be remembered to his diſad-
vantage; inſtead of being pacified by an act ſo
gracious and condeſcending, the brutal drunkard
became more furious, and after venting all the
fouleft words a heated imagination could ſuggeſt,
with a violence ſhocking to decency and loath-
fome to relatė, ſuddenly turned upon Piſiſtratus,
as he was ſoliciting him to take his feat at the
table, and ſpate in his face. Upon an inſult ſo
intolerable the whole company roſe as one man,
and in particular Hippias and Hipparchus, fons
of the tyrant, were with difficulty prevented from
killing him on the ſpot. The interpoſition of
Piſiſtratus faved Thraſippus, and he was ſuffer-
ed


N• 26. THE OBSERVER. 193
ed to go home without any violence to his per-
ſon. The next morning brought him to his
ſenſes, and he appeared in the preſence of Piſi-
ftratus with all proper humility, expecting to re-
ceive the puniſhment he merited. What muſt
have been his ſelf-conviction and reproach, when
he was again received with the utmoſt compla-
cency! Penetrated to the heart with the recol-
lection of his behaviour, and the unmerited par-
don he had met with, he was proceeding to ex-
ecute that vengeance on himſelf, which he was
conſcious he deſerved, by ruſhing on his ſword,
when Piſiſtratus again interpoſed and ſeizing his
hand ſtopt the ſtroke; not content with this, he
conſoled him with the moſt ſoothing expreſſions,
affured him of his moſt entire forgiveneſs, and
having put him at peace with himſelf, reinſtated
him in his favour and received him again into
the number of his intimates."
Though it is ſcarce poſſible to find an inſtance
of good-nature in any man's character ſuperior
to the above, I am tempted to add the following
anecdotė not only as a corroborating evidence,
but from the pleaſure one naturally takes in
hearing or relating facts, that make ſo much to
the honour of human nature, and which inſpire
the heart with a love for mankind. .
“ Thraſimedes, a young Athenian, had the
Vol. I.
audacity


194 THE OBSERVER. N. 20,
audacity to force a kiſs upon the daughter of Pi.
fiftratus, as ſhe was walking in public proceſſion
at a religious ſolemnity; tranſported by the vi-
olence of his paſſion, and conſidering that he had
already committed an unpardonable offence, he
ſeized her perſon, and forcibly conveying her on
board a ſhip, put to ſea with her on his paſſage
to Ægina; the ſons of Pififtratus purſued and
overtook him, bringing him in perſon before
their father : Thrafimedes, without betraying
any marks of fear, immediately declared himſelf
perfectly prepared to meet any puniſhment Piſi-
ftratus ſhould think fit to decree; for, having mil-
carried in his attempt, and loſt the object for
which alone he wiſhed to live, all conſequences
became indifferent; diſappointment, not death,
was his puniſhment; and when the greater evil
had been ſuffered, he had little apprehenſion for
the leſſer.-Having ſaid this, he waited his fen-
tence; when Pififtratus after long ſilence, break-
ing out into admiration at the reſolution of
Thrafimedes, inſtead of puniſhing his audacity,
rewarded his paſſion by beſtowing his daughter
upon him in marriage.”
.
:.
Nº XXI.


N° 21. THE OBSERVER. 195
a..
.
Nº XXI. ;..
..
N
A
Non jam illud quæro, contra ut me diligat illas,
Aut, quod non potis eft, effe pudica velit; }
Ipſe valere optoy et tetrum hunc deponere morbum.
(CATULLUS.)
IT is become a very gainful trade with our
1 ſmall-ware venders of literature to expoſe
certain pamphlets in ſhop windows and upon
ftalls in alleys and thorough-fares, which, if any
police was kept up in this great capital, would
be put down by the civil magiſtrate as a public
nuiſance; I mean Trials for Adultery, the pube
liſhers of which are not content with ſetting
down every thing verbatim from their ſhort-
hand records, which the ſcrutinizing neceſſity of
law draws out by pointed interrogatory, but
they are alſo made to allure the curioſity of the
paſſenger by tawdry engravings, in which the
heroine of the tale is diſplayed in effigy and the
moſt indecent ſcene of her amours félected as ari
eye-trap to attract the youth of both ſexes, and
by debauching the morals of the riſing genera-
tion, keep up the ſtock in trade, and feed the
market with freſh caſes for the Commons, and
freſh fupplies for the retailers of indecency.. .
O
2
If


198 THE OBSERVER. N. 21.
If the frequency of our divorces is thus to
be encouraged becauſe they make ſport for the
lawyers, it may be wiſe to uſe no preventives
againſt the plague or ſmall-pox, becauſe they cut
out work for the doctors. Upon this principle
a prudent father will breed up his fons civilians,
and furnith out a library for his daughters with
thefe edifying volumes, and if once they take
kindly to their ludies, there is no fear of their
bringing culom to their brothers and driving
a trade, as it is called, for their families. A con-
venient net of theſe trials, neatly bound and gilt
at the backs, will ſerve both as clegant furniture
to their cloſets or bed-chambers, and as repofi.
tories of ſcience, like treaties on the chances to
make them (kilful in the game. If they are afraid
of their huſb.inds looking into their library, they
may find out a hundred devices for lettering
them at the back; they may call them ---Sermons
to Married Women ----or Ibe Lives of the learned
Lallies--I be Mets of the Britiſh Matrons---Com.
mentaries on the Marriage Mit Treatifes on Po-
lygamy ---Or by any other title, which their wit
necdo no prompting to devile.
· Another circumſtance of the times, which will
greatly aid them in their studies,' is, that they
have it duly and hourly in their power to reſort
to the founlilin-hcad for authority, and conſult
the


N• 21. THE OBSERVER. 197
the very ladies themſelves, who are the heroines
of theſe intereſting narratives. Theſe adepts in
the art are to be ſeen in all places, and ſpoken
to at all hours without hindrance of buſineſs, or
knowledge of a bedfellow. As theſe disfranchifed
matrons or ex-wives keep the beſt company,
and make the beſt figures in all faſhionable cir-
cles, a ſcholar may receive inſtruction without
flander, and proſtitute her honour without riſque.
ing her reputation; a huſband muſt be a brute
indeed, who can object to this fociety, and a wife
muſt be a fool indeed, who does not profit by it;
when a new-married woman receives theſe pri-
vileged ladies in her houſe, ſhe ſees at once the
folly of being virtuous, for they are the merrieſt,
the loudeſt, the beſt followed, and the moſt ad-
mired of all their ſex; they never diſgrace their
characters by a pufillanimous repentance, they
never baulk their pleaſures by a ſtupid reforma-,
tion, but keep it up with ſpirit, like felons that
die hard at the gallows, to the laſt moment of
their lives. Moſt of them marry again, and are
fo much better than their neighbours, as they
are made honeſt women of twicę over; and that.
reputation muſt be more than commonly tender,
which two coats of plaiſter will not keep to-
gether.
· As a further temptation to our young wives
03
not


198 THE OBSERVER. N° 21.
not to wait the tedious courſe of nature, but to
make themſelves widows of living huſbands, as
ſoon as they can, they will recollca, that they
enſure advantages to themſelves thereby, which
natural widows do not enjoy; for in the firſt
place they avoid a year's mourning, which is
a conſideration not to be deſpiſed; in the next
place they have precedents for marrying in the
firſt week of their widowhood; and as it is the
general practice to chuſe their gallants, they cer-
tainly run no riſque of taking a ſtep in the dark,
which widows ſometimes have been ſuſpected to
repent of ; thirdly, they cfcape all bickerings and
jealouſies, which diſturb the peace of families,
by the common practice of ladies putting their
ſecond huſband in mind of what their firſt hul-
band would have done, or would have ſaid on
this or that occaſion, had he been alive.--I hings
were not ſo in my firſt huſband's time-Oh that my
firſt huſband were living ! he would not ſuffer this
or that thing to paſs, this or that man to uſe me
after ſuch a manner--are familiar expreſſions in'
the family dialogucs of ſecond wives in the re-
gular order; whercas the Irregulars never caſt
theſe taunts in the teeth of their ſpouſes, becauſe
they know the anſwer is rçady at handy if they
did.
The Irregulars have alſo frequent opportuni-
tics


Nº 21. THE OBSERVER. 199
ties of ſhewing their affability and ſweetneſs of
temper upon meeting their firſt huſbands in
public places and mixed companies; the grace-
ful acknowledgement of a reſpectful curteſy, a
down-caſt look of modeſt ſenſibility, or the pret-
ty flutter of embarraſſment are incidents upon
an unexpected rencontre, which a well-bred
woman knows how to make the moſt of, and
are ſure to draw the eyes of the company upon
her.
If on the other hand a lady on her divorce
chufes to revive her maiden title and take poſt
in her former rank, the law will probably give
her back as good a title to her virgin name, as
it found her with. She alſo has her advantages ;
for at the ſame time that ſhe is free from the
encumbrances of matrimony, ſhe eſcapes the odi-
ous appellation of old maid: Such a lady has
the privilege of public places without being pin-
ned to the ſkirts of an old dowager, like other
miſſes ; ſhe can alſo indulge a natural paſſion for
gaming to a greater length than ſpinſters dare
to go; ſhe can make a repartee or ſmile at a
double entendre, when a ſpinſter only bites her
lips, or is put to the troubleſome reſource of her
fan, when ſhe ought to bluſh, but cannot.
Before I turned my mind to reflect upon theſe
and other advantages, ſo preponderating in fa-
04
vour


200 THE OBSERVER, NO 21.
your of divorces, I uſed to wonder why our les
giſlature was ſo partial to ſuitors, and gave ſuch
notorious encouragement and facility to Acts of
Parliament for their relief and accommodation ;
I now ſee the good policy of the meaſure, and how
much the eaſe of his majeſty's good fubjects is
thereby conſulted. It is confeſſed there is a ſhort
monition in the decalogue againſt tủis practice, but
nobody inſiſts upon it; there are alſo ſome texts
fcattered up and down in holy writ to the ſame
purport, but no well-bred preacher ever handles
ſuch topics in his pulpit; and if a fine lady ſhould
eyer read a chapter in the bible, or hear it read
to her, it is very eaſy to ſkip over thoſe paſſages,
and every polite perſon knows it is better to
make a breach in any thing, than in good man-
ners to a lady:
Our Engliſh ladies by the frequency of their
incontinence, and the divorces thence enſuing,
have not only furniſhed out a moſt amuſing lin
brary to young ſtudents of both ſexes, but they
have effectually retrieved the characters of our
wives from finking into contempt with foreign-
ers on account of their domeſtic inſipidity and
attachment to the dull duties of a family. This
was once the general opinion, which other na-
tions entertained of our matrons, but upon a late
tour through a great part of the continent of
Europe


Nº 21. THE OBSERVER. Ror
Europe I found it was entirely reverſed, and
ideas more expreſſive of their ſpirit univerſally
adopted,
It may well be expected, that the influx of fo-
reigners, and the out-Aow of natives, which the
preſent peace will occaſion, will not ſuffer the
pretenſions of our ladies to loſe ground in this
particular: Our French neighbours are certaine
ly good critics in gallantry, and they need not
now ſtand in dread of a repulſe from the women
of England, whatever they may apprehend from
the men,
Much more occurs to me on this ſubject, but
theſe premiſes will ſerve to introduce an idea,
which if the ſeveral ladies, who have ſtood trial,
would club their wits to aſſiſt me in, might be
rendered practicable, and that is, of reducing In-
famy to a ſyſtem by rules and regulations of
manners tending to the propagation and encreaſe
of divorces in Great Britain. A few looſe hints
occur to me on this ſubject, but I offer them
with the utmoſt ſubmiſſion to better judges, fim-
ply as rudiments in the art; the refinements
muſt be left to thoſe who are profeſſors.
“ As carly impreſſions are ſtrongeſt and moſt
laſting, I would adviſe all mothers, who wiſh to
train their daughters after the above ſyſtem, to
put them in their infancy under the care of thoſe
commodious


No 21, THE OBSERVER 203
recommended by Mademoiſelle; and in their in-
tervals from ſtudy they will be allowed to relax
their minds in the company of their mother, by
looking on at the card-tables, repoſing them
felves after their fatigue upon fophas, informing
themſelves of the intrigues of the town; qualify:
ing themſelves in' a proper familiarity of man-
ners by calling young men by their firnames,
romping occaſionally with the gallants of their
mother, when ſhe is out of ſight, and above all
things cultivating intimacies with their late
ſchool-fellows, who are come out into the
world.
« When their hair is off their foreheads, it
will be neceſſary they ſhould lay out profeffedly
for admirers amongſt the young rakes of faſhion,
and for this purpoſe I particularly recommend to
them the tea-room at the Opera-houſe, where I
would have them ſtay out all the company, and
then commit themſelves to their gallants to find
out their coaches, who will be ſure to lead them
through all the blind alleys, and never carry
them to the right door till the laft, by which time
the carriages of theſe gallants will be drove' off,
and then common charity will compel them to
bring the obliging creatures home' in theirs. ::
« All this while I would have them put en-
tire confidence in Mademoiſelle, whoſe good-
nature
--


204 THE OBSERVER. N° 21.
nature will accommodate them in any little
notes or meſſages they may have to manage, and
whoſe opinion in dreſs will be ſo indiſpenſable,
that it will be proper to take her out with thom
to all milliners ſhops, artificial-Aower makers,
and maſquerade warchouſes for advice. If the
young fellows will come to theſe places at the
fame time, who can help it? Mademoiſelle will
go down to call the ſervants, and ten to one
if they are not gone to the ale-houſe, and the
coach is out of the way, in ſpite of all her pains
to find it.
“ When they have made a ſtrong attachment,
and confequences are to be apprehended, it will
be time for them to think of marriagc, but on
no account with the man of thcir heart, for that
would interrupt friendſhip; any body, who can
make a ſettlement, can make a huſband, and that
huſband can make his wife her own miſtreſs,
and every body's elſe, that the pleaſes: Made-
moiſelle becomes femme de chambre, and when
her lady is diſpoſed for divorce, chief witneſs
upon her trial; a pictureſque ſcene is choſen for
the frontiſpiece, the heroine figures in the print-
ſhops, her fame is founded in the brothels, and
her career of infamy is complcated.”
Nº XXII.


266. THE OBSERVER. N 22.
the hereditary entity of thc'e inveterate oppo-
nents ; Abderama therefore had no reſource but
to defend his citude to the laſt extremity: Dif-
alled by his a'ze from active ſervice, he put the
garrifon under command of a valiant captain
tuned Ablullah: This young prince was of the
houſe of Katiba, the general of the Caliph Of.
man, who conquered Great Bucharia for that
viitorious Mahonmedan: Aldullah was the
moſt accompliſhed perſonage of his time, of ad-
mirable qualities and matchleſs intrepidity: In
vain he challenged Mamood to decide the fate
of Borhara by ſingle combat; he was alſo be-
loved by Zarima, daughter of Abderama and ſoje
heireſs of his crown; the beauty of this princeſs
was celebrated through all the Eaſt; more rhap-
fodies have been compoſed and chaunted in the
prailes of Zariina than even Helen gave a ſub-
jou to: Our language cannot reach the deſcrips
tions of theſe florid writers; the whole creation
has been culled for objects to ſet in ſome com-
pariſon with Zarima; but as the fire of their
unaginations would ſeem like phrenſy to ours, I
Thall not riſque a fall by following them in their
flights.
In a furious fally made upon the army of the
blegers, Abdullah at the head of the Bocharians
had Singled out the perſon of Mamood, and puſhed
his


N° 22. THE OBSERVER. 209
to be kept a profound ſecret even from Zarima ;
the unſuſpe&ting Abdullah repaired to his ren-
dezvous at the appointed hour without taking
leave of the princeſs, and Kamhi with his aſſo.
ciate paſſed the city guard unqueſtioned in the
habit of his rival. He hafted without a mo..
ment's loſs to the palace of the old king, and
expounding to him the plan he had deviſed for
fecuring the performance of his part of the con-
tract, nothing now remained for Abderama, but
to engage his daughter to make a facrifice,
which ſevere and difficult as it was, he thought
he might depend upon her piety and public ſpi.
rit for complying with. In this hope he imme-
diately repaired to her chamber, where he found
her repofing on her couch; he threw himſelf at
her feet in an agony of tears, and in the moſt
fupplicating poſture adjured her to ariſe and ſave
her father, country, and herſelf from impending
deſtruction : Rouſed from her fleep, the beau-
teous Zarima immediately demanded the reaſon
of that ſolemn adjuration, and what it was that
the could do to gain thoſe glorious ends -- Emu-
late the magnanimity of Abdullah, replied the fa-
ther, reſign Abdullah, as that heroic youth, to ſave
this ſinking city from extinction, has now reſigned
bis Zarima.-Aſtoniſhment had now deprived
her of the power of utterance, and Abderama
Vol. I.
P
proceeded


No 22. THE OBSERVER. 211
non, when they immolated their daughters.
With the firſt dawn of the morning Kamhi re-
paired to the army, and began to ſet on foot the
project he had concerted with Abderama; when
he had given out his orders for dividing and diſ-
poſing the troops in ſuch a manner, as was beſt
adapted to his deſign, he gave the ſignal agreed
upon with the king for the fally: The whole
garriſon was put in motion on this occaſion, and
Abderama determined once more to ſhew him-
ſelf to his army, and command in perſon. Eve-
ry thing had been ſo prepared on the part of
Kamhi, that the impreſſion, which the Bochari-
ans made upon the beſiegers, was immediate,
and the ſlaughter became univerſal: Nothing
could have ſaved them from compleat deſtruction,
but the unexpected appearance of Mamood and
his army in this ſeaſonable moment for their re-
lief; as Mamood's troops were entirely com-
poſed of cavalry, he flew into action with ama-
zing rapidity; the fainting ſpirits of the foldiers
revived at the ſight of their victorious chief; his
well-known voice rallied their broken ranks,
and they turned upon their purſuers with re-
doubled fury; Even the guard, that had been
planted upon Abdullah, now ran to their arms
and joined the action; the army of Abderama,
no longer ſupported by the valour and conduct
P 2
of


N° 22. THE OBSERVER. 213
.
preſent himſelf before her and to fall exhauſted
with his wounds at her feet.
Terrible interview! Zarima was expiring;
ſhe had taken poiſon.
The ſupplications of an aged father, the de-
liverance of a ſuffering city, the ſalvation of an
ancient empire, and, above all, the example, as
ſhe believed, of her betrothed Abdullah, had pre-
vailed with this heroic princeſs to ſacrifice her-
felf to the deteſted arms of Kamhi ; the contract
had been fulfilled upon her father's part, but to
ſurvive it was more than ſhe had engaged for,
and an indignity, which her nature could not
ſubmit to: As ſoon as the battle joined, ſhe put
her reſolution into act, and ſwallowed the mortal
draught. Life juſt ſufficed to relate this diſmal
tale to the 'dying Abdullah, and to receive the
account from his lips of the deception, which
Abderama had put upon him: The body of her
dead father was now brought into the palace ;
ſhe caſt a look upon it, but was ſpeechleſs ;
fainting, and in the article of death, the dropt
into the arms of Abdullah, her head fell upon
his breaſt, juſt as it was heaving with the laſt
long-drawn figh, that ſtopt his heart for ever.
P3
N. XXIII.


Nº 23. THE OBSERVER. 217
ſo that his diſappointment had every aggravation
poſſible, and, operating upon a nature more than
commonly ſuſceptible, reverſed every principle
of humanity in the heart of. Chaubert, and made
him for the greateſt part of his life the declared
enemy of human nature.
After many years paſſed in foreign parts he
was accidentally brought to his better ſenſes by
diſcovering that through theſe events, which he
had ſo deeply refented, he had providentially
eſcaped from miſeries of the moſt fatal nature :
Thereupon he returned to his own country, and,
entering into the order of Franciſcans, employed
the remainder of his life in atoning for his paſt
errors after the moſt exemplary manner. On all
occaſions of diſtreſs Father Chaubert's zeal pre-
fented itſelf to the relief and comfort of the un-
fortunate, and ſometimes he would enforce his
admonitions of reſignation by the lively picture
he would draw of his own extravagancies; in
extraordinary caſes he has been known to give
his communicants a tranſèript or diary in his
own hand-writing of certain paſſages of his life,
in which he had minuted his thoughts at the time
they occurred, and which he kept by him for
ſuch extraordinary purpoſes. This paper was
put into my hands by a gentleman who had re-
ceived much benefit from this good father's con-
verſation


220 THE OBSERVER. N° 23.
human nature ! I'll aggravate his miſery by the
inſult of charity. Harkye, Caſtilian, I exclaim-
ed, take this piſette; it is coin, it is ſilver from
the mint of Mexico; a Spaniard dug it from the
mine, a Frenchman gives it you ; put by your pride
and touch it!~Curſt be your nation, the Caftili-
·an replied, I'll farve before I'll take it from your
hands.--Starve then, I anſwered, and paſſed on.
« I climbed a barren mountain; the wolves
howled in the deſert and the vultures ſcreamed
in flocks for prey; I looked, and beheld a gloomy
manſion underneath my feet, vaſt as the pride of
its founder, gloomy and diſconſolate as his foul ;
it was the Eſcurial.--Here then the tyrant reigns,
faid I, here let him reign;, hard as theſe rocks his
throne, waſte as theſe deſarts be his dominion !--A
meagre creature paſſed me; famine ftared in his
eye, he caſt a look about him, and ſprung upon
a kid, that was browſing in the deſart, he ſmote
it dead with his ſtaff, and haſtily thruſt it into
his wallet.--Ah, facrilegious villain !- cried a
brawny fellow; and, leaping on him from be.
hind a rock, ſeized the hungry wretch in the
act; he dropped upon his knees and begged for
mercy.--Mercy ! cried he that ſeized him, do you
purloin the property of the church and aſk før mer-
cy? Take it ! So faying, he beat him to the
earth with a blow, as he was kneeling at his
feet,


No 23. THE OBSERVER. 221
i
feet, and then dragged him towards the convent
of Saint Lawrence: I could have hugged the
miſcreant for the deed.
« I held my journey through the deſart, and
defolation followed me to the very ſtreets of
Madrid ; the fathers of the inquiſition came forth
from the cells of torture, the croſs was elevated
before them, and a trembling wretch in a ſaffron-
coloured veſt, painted with flames of fire, was
dragged to execution in an open ſquare ; they
kindled a fire about him, and fang praifes to God,
whilſt the fames deliberately conſumed their hu
man victim: He was a Jew who ſuffered, they
were Chriſtians who tormented.-See what the
religion of God is, ſaid I to myſelf, in the hands of
man!
« From the gates of Madrid I bent my courſe
towards the port of Liſbon; as I traverſed the
wilderneſs of Eſtremadura, a robber took his aim
át me from behind a cork tree, and the ball
grazed my hat upon my head.--You have miſſed
your aim, I cried, and have left the merit of de-
Proying a man.--Give me your purſe, ſaid the
robber.-Take it, I replied, and buy with it a
friend; may it ſerve you as it has ſerved me! :
." I found the city of Liſbon in ruins; her
foundations fmoaked upon the ground; the dy-
ing and the dead laid in heaps; terror fate in
every


922 THE OBSERVER. No 231
every viſage, and mankind was viſited with the
plagues of the Almighty, famine, fire, and earth-
quake.--Have they not the inquiſition in this coun-
try? I aſked; I was anſwered they had. And do
they make all this outcry about an earthquake? ſaid
I within myſelf, let them to give God thanks and
be quiet!
“ Preſently there came ſhips from England,
loaded with all manner of goods for the reief
of the inhabitants; the people took the bounty,
were preſerved, then turned and curſed their
prefervers for hcrctics.--This is as it ſhould be,
laid I, thife men ait up to their nature, and the
Engliſh are a nation of fools ; I will not go among
them.--After a ſhort time bychold a new city was
riling on the ruins of the old one! The people
took the builders tools, which the Engliſh had
fent them, and made themſelves houſes : I over-
heard a fellow at his work fay to his companion.
-- Defore the carthquake I made my bed in the
Preets, now I ſhall have a houſe to live in. This
is too mucli, laid I ; their misfortunes make this
people happy, and I will ſay no longer in their
country. I defcended to the banks of the Ta-
g18; there was a ihip, whoſe canvaſs was looſed
for failing. She is an Engliſh, ship, lays a Galli-
cgo porter; they are brave framen, but damned
Tyrants on the quarter- k.---Thy pay will for
what


N° 23. THE OBSERVER. 223
what they have, ſays a boatman, and I am going
on board her with a cargo of lemons. -I threw
myſelf into the wherry, and entered the ſhip :
The mariners were occupied with their work,
and nobody queſtioned me why I was amongſt
them. The tide wafted us into the ocean and
the night became tempeſtuous, the veſſel labour.
ed in the ſea and the mornirg brought no reſpite
to our toil.-Whither are you bound? ſaid I to
the maſter. - To hell, ſaid he, for nothing but the
devil ever drove at ſuch a rate!—The fellow's
voice was thunder; the ſailors ſung in the ſtorm,
and the maſter's oaths were louder than the
waves; the third day was a dead calm, and he
ſwore louder than ever. ---If the winds were of
this man's making, thought I, he would not be con-
tent with them.--A favourable breeze ſprung up
as if it had come at his calling. I thought it was
coming, ſays he, put her before the wind, it blczus
fair for our port.-—But where is your port? again
I aſked him.--Sir, ſays he, I can now anſwer your
queſtion as I ſhould do; with God's leave I am
bound to Bourdeaux; every thing at ſca goes as it
pleaſes God.-My heart funk at the name of my
native city. I was freighted, added he, from Lor-
don with a cargo of goods of all ſorts for the four
ſufferers by the earthquake; I fall load back with.
wine for my owners, and fo help out a charitable
voyage
:-


224 THE OBSERVER. N° 22.
royage with ſome little profit, if it pleaſe God 10
bleſs our endeavours. Lleyday / thought I, how
fair weather changes this fellow's notel-Lewis,
frid he to a handſome youth, who ſtood at his
elbow, we will now ſeek out this Monſieur Chau-
bart at Bourdeaux, and get payment of his lills on
jour account. --Shw me your bills, ſaid I, for I am
Chaniert.--- He produced them, and I faw my
own name forged to bills in favour of the villain
who had ſo treacherouſly dealt with me in the
aflair of the woman who was to have been my
wife. Where is the wretch, ſaid I, who drew theſe
forgeries? -The youth burſt into tears. He is
my father, he replied, and turned away.-- Sir,
ſays the maſter, I am not ſurprized 10 find this fel-
low a villain to you, for I was once a trader in
affluence and have been ruined by his means and
reduced to what you ſee me; but I forgive what he
has done to me; I can carn a maintenance, and am
as happy in my prefent hard employ, nay happier
than when I was rich and idle; but to defraud his
own ſon proves him an unnatural raſcal, and, if I
had him here, I would hang him at the mizen
yard,
Nº XXIV.


228 THE OBSERVER. N. 24.
Pruck the creature with violence and laid it dead
at your feet. It was the ſaving moment of your
life-the wine was poiſoned, inevitable death was
in the draught, and the animal you killed was
God's inſtrument for preſerving you; reflect upon
the event, ſubdue your paffions, and practiſe re-
fignation : Father, I have no more to confeſs; I
die repentant : Let the executioner do his office.”
- Here ends the diary of Chaubert.
I do not mean to expoſe my ideas to inge-
nious ridicule by maintaining that every thing
happens to every man for the beſt, but I will
contend, that he, who makes the beſt of it, ful-
fils the part of a wiſe and good man: Another
thing may be ſafely advanced, namely, that man
is not competent to decide upon the good or
evil of many events, which befal him in this life,
and we have authority to ſay, Woe be to him that
calls good evil, and evil good! I could with that
the ſtory of Chaubert, as I have given it, might
make that impreſſion upon any one of my read-
ers, as it did upon me, when I received it; and
I could alſo wilh, that I felt myſelf worthy to
add to it the experience of many occurrences in
my own life, to which time and patience have
given colours very different from thoſe they wore
upon their firſt appearance.
When men ſink into deſpondency or break
9 e .
out


Nº 24. THE OBSERVER. 229
out into rage upon adverſities and misfortunes,
it is no proof that Providence lays a heavier
burthen upon them than they can bear, becauſe
it is not clear that they have exerted all the por
ſible reſources of the ſoul.
The paſſions may be humoured, till they be-
come our maſters, as a horſe may be pampered
till he gets the better of his rider ; but early diſo
cipline will prevent mutiny and keep the helm
in the hands of reaſon. If we put our children
under reſtraint and correction, why ſhould we,
who are but children of a larger growth, be re-
fractory and complain, when the Father of all
things lays the wholeſome correction of adverſity
on our heads ? :: ::.
Amongſt the fragments of Philemon the comic
poet, there is part of a dialogue preſerved. be-
tween a maſter and his ſervant, whoſe names are
not given, which falls in with the ſubject I am
ſpeaking of; theſe fragments have been collected
from the works of the ſcholiaſts and grammari-
ans, and many of them have been quoted by the
fathers of the Chriſtian church for the moral and
pious maxims they contain ; I think the reader
will not be diſpleaſed, if I occaſionally preſent
him with ſome ſpecimens from thefe remains of
the Greek Comedy, and for the preſent conclude
my paper with the following tranſlation...
, 23
Servant.


Nº 24. THE OBSERVER: 231
plaint itſelf: Why it drives a man out of his-
ſenſes, out of his health, nay at laſt qut of the
world; fo ball it not me: If misfortune will come,
I cannot help it, but if lamentation follows it, thats
is my fault'; and a fool of his own, making, my good
maſter, is a fool indeed.132 F 14 D E
Maſter. Say you fo, firrah? Now I hold your
inſenſibility to be of the nature of a brute; mogu
feelings I regard as the prerogative of a man;
thus although we differ widely in our practice, each
acts up to his proper charaéter.
Servant. If I am of the nature of a brute, be-
cauſe I fear the gods and ſubmit to their will, the
gods forgive me! If it be the prerogative of a man,
to ſay I zoill not bear misfortunes I will not ſubmit
to the decrees:of the gods, letrtbe gods anſwers that
for themſelves! I am apt to think.it is na greda
mark of courage to deſpairo non anys fure proof of
weakneſs to be content. If a man were to die of a
diſappointment; how the vengeabice does it come toi
paſs that any body is left alive? You may, if your
think well of it, counteract the deſigns of the gads,
and turn their intended bleffongs into actual misfore
tunes, but I do not think their work will be mended
- by your means; you may, if you pleaſe, reſent it with
a high hand, if your mother, or: your fon, er your
friend should take the liberty taldie, wben you wiſh
tben to live ;i but to me it appears-a natural.event,
Q4 .
which


232 THE OBSERVER. N° 24.
which no man can keep off from his aun perſon, or
that of any other; you may, if you think it worth
pour while, be very miſerable, when this woman
miſcarries, or that woman is brought to bed; you may
torment yourſelf, becauſe your mother has a cough,
or your miſtreſs drops a tear; in short you may ſend
yourſelf out of the world with ſorrow, but I think
it better to ſay my time in it and be happy.
| Nº xxv.
T MENTIONED in my ſeventh paper that
1 I had a card from Vaneſſa inviting me to a
Feaſt of Reafor. I confeſs I was very curious to
know what the nature of this feaſt might be;
and having been ſince favoured with a ſecond
invitation, I ſhall take the liberty of relating
what I faw and heard at that lady's aſſembly.
The celebrated Vaneſſa has been either a.
Beauty, or a wit all her life long; and of courſe
Has a better plea for vanity, than falls to moft
women's ſhare; her vanity alfo is in itſelf more
excuſeable for the pleaſing colours it ſometimes
throws upon her character : It gives the ſpring
to charity, good-nature, affability; it makes her
fplendid,


No 25. THE OBSERVER. 233
ſplendid, hoſpitable, facetious; carries her into
all the circles of fine people, and crowds all the
fine people into her’s; it ſtarts a thouſand whim-
fical caprices, that furniſh employment to the arts,
and it has the merit of opening her doors and her
purſe to the ſons of ſcience; in ſhort it adminiſ-
ters protection to all deſcriptions and degrees of
genius, from the manufacturer of a tooth-pick
to the author of an epic poem: It is a vanity,
that is a ſure box at an author's firſt night, and
a fure card at a performer's benefit; it pays well
for a dedication, and ſtands for fix copies upon a
ſubſcribers lift. Vaneſſa in the centre of her own
circle ſits like the ſtatue of the Athenian Min
nerva, incenſed with the breath of philoſophers,
poets, painters, orators, and every votariſt of arty
ſcience, or fine ſpeaking. It is in her academy
young noviciates try their wit and practiſe pa-
negyric; no one like Vaneſſa can break in a
young lady to the poetics, and teach her Pegaſus
to carry a fide-ſaddle : She can make a mathe-
patician quote Pindar, a Maſter in Chancery
write novels, or a Birmingham hardware-man
ftamp rhimes as faſt as buttons.
As I came rather before the modern hour of
viſiting, I waited ſome time in her room before
any of the company appeared; ſeveral new pub-
lications on various ſubjects were lying on her
table;


234 THE OBSERVER. NO 25.
table; they were ſtitched in blue paper and moſt
of them freſh from the preſs; in ſome ſhe had
ſtuck ſmall ſcraps of paper, as if to mark where
ſhe had left off reading; in others the had dou-:
bled down certain pages ſeemingly for the ſame.
purpoſe. At laſt a meagre little man with a moft:
fatirical countenance was uſhered in, and took
his ſeat in a corner of the room ; he eyed me at-,
tentively for ſome time through his fpectacles,
and at laſt accoſted me in the following words;
« You are looking at theſe books, Sir; I take
“ for granted they are newly publiſhed.” “I be-
lieve they are,' I replied. “I thought ſo," ſays:
he. “ Then you may depend upon it their au-
“ thors will be here by and by; you may always
“ know what company you are to expect in this,
“houſe by the books upon the table : It is in'
« this way Vanefla has got all her wit and learn-,
« ing, not by reading, but by making authors.
u believe ſhe' reads their works, and by thus
“ tickling their vanity the fends ſo many heralds
“ into the world to cry up her fame to the ſkies;
« it is a very pretty finefle, and faves a world of
“time for better amuſements." He had no ſoon-
er faid this than Vaneſſa entered the room, and
whilft I was making a moſt profound reverence,
I beheld ſomething approaching to me, which
looked like columns and arches and porticos in.
the


N° 25. THE OBSERVER. 235
-
the perſpective of a playhouſe ſcene; as I raiſed
my eyes and examined it a little cloſer I recog-
nized the ruins of Palmyra embroidered in co-
loured ſilks upon Vaneſſa's petticoat. It was the
firſt viſit I had ever paid, and Vaneſſa not being
ready with my name, I made a filent obeiſance,
and receiving a ſmile in return, retreated to my
chair': My friend ſaid a great many ſmart things
upon the ruins of Palmyra, which Vaneſſa on her
part contended to be a very proper emblem for
an old woman in decay, who had ſeen better
days; the wit replied, that inſtead of Palmyra it
ought to have been Athens, and then ſhe would
have been equipped from head to foot in charac-
ter. Vaneſſa ſmiled, but maintained the propri-
ety of her choice, bidding him obſerve, « that
« though ſhe carried a city upon her back, that
« city all the world knew was planted on a de:
$6 fart.” She now addreſſed herſelf to me, and
in the moſt gracious manner aſked me when I
hoped to put my project into execution; I an-
fwered in about two months, thinking the al-
Juded to the publication of theſe papers, a cir-
cumſtance I knew ſhe was informed of. “ Well,
« I proteſt,” ſays Vaneſſa, “ I envy you the
.66 undertaking, and wiſh I could find courage
“ enough to accompany you.” I aſſured her
there was nothing in the world would make
me


N° 25. THE OBSERVER. 237
“illuminate every body elſe; but if they betray
“ their owner,” adds he, “it is God's revenge
« againſt murder.” Several literati now entered
the room, to whom Vaneſſa made her complia
ments, particularly to a blind old gentleman,
whom the conducted to his chair with great hu-
manity, and immediately began talking to him
of his diſcoveries and experiments on the micro-
ſcope. « Ah! madam,” replied the minute phi-
lofopher, “ thoſe reſearches are now over; fome-
“thing might have been done, if my eyes had
“ held out, but I loſt my light juſt as I had dif-
" covered the generation of mites; but this I can
“ take on myſelf to pronounce, that they are an
" oviparous race.” “ Be content,” replied Va-
neffa, “ there is a bleſſing upon him who throws
“ even a mite into che treaſury of ſcience.” The
philoſopher then proceeded to inform her, that
he had begun ſome curious diſſections of the eye
of a mole, but that his own would not ſerve him
to complete them: “If I could have proceeded
“ in them,” ſays he, “I am verily perſuaded I
« could have brought him to his eye-ſight by the
s operation of couching; and now,” ſays he, “I
« am engaged in a new diſcovery, in which I
“ mean to employ none but perſons under the
“ like misfortune with myſelf. So intereſting a
diſcovery raiſed my curioſity, as well as Vaneſ-
fa's,


238 THE OBSERVER. No 25.
fa's, to enquire into it, and methought even the
wit in the ſpectacles had a fellow-feeling in the
ſubject. --" It is a powder, madam,” added the
philoſopher, “ which I have prepared for de-
“ ftroying vermin on fruit trees, and even ants
“ in the Weſt Indies ; I confeſs to you,” ſays he,
« it is fatal to the eye-light, for I am perſuaded
“ I owe the loſs of mine to it, rather than to the
“ eggs of mites, or the couching of moles; and
s accordingly I propoſe that this powder ſhall be
“blown through bellows of my own inventing
« by none but men who are ſtone blind; it will
“ be very eaſy for your gardener, or overſeer of
“ your plantations, to lead them up to their
“ work, and then leave them to perform it; for
“ the duſt is ſo ſubtle, that it is ſcarce poſſible to
“invent a cover for the eyes, that can ſecure
“them againſt it. I believe,” added he, « I
“ have ſome of it in my pocket, and if you have
“ any Aies or ſpiders in the room, I will ſoon
“convince you of its efficacy by an experiment
“ before your eyes.” Vaneſſa eagerly affured-him
there was no ſuch thing in her room, and draw
ing her chair to a diſtance, begged him not to
trouble himſelf with any experiment at preſent.
There ſat an ordinary woman in a black
cloak by the fire fide with her feet upon the
fender and her knees up, who ſeemed em-
ployed


N° 25. THE OBSERVER. 239
ployed upon a cuſhion or pillow, which ſhe kept:
concealed under her apron, without once look-
ing at the work ſhe was upon. “ You have read
“ of the Witch of Endor,” ſays ſhe to me, (ob-
ſerving I had fixed my eyes upon her) “ I am a
“ deſcendant of that old lady's, and can raiſe the
“ dead, as well as ſhe could.”—Immediately ſhe
put aſide her apron, and produced a head moulded
in wax ſo ſtrikingly like my deceaſed friend, the
father of Calliope, that the ſhock it gave me was
too apparent to eſcape her." You knew this
“ brave fellow I perceive,” ſays ſhe, “ England
“never owned a better officer; he was my hero,
and every line in his face is engraved in my
"heart.”—“What muſt it be in mine?” I an-
ſwered, and turned away to a circle of people,
who had collected themſelves round a plain, but
venerable, old man, and were very attentive to
his diſcourſe : He ſpoke with great energy, and
in moſt choſen language;. nobody yet attempt-
ed to interrupt him, and his words rolled not
with the ſhallow impetuoſity of a torrent, but
deeply and fuently, like the copious current of
the Nile : He took up the topic of religion in
his courſe, and, though palſy. ſhook his head,, he
looked ſo terrible in Chriſtian armour, and dealt
his ſtrokes with ſo much, force and judgment,
that Infidelity, in the perſons of ſeveral petty
ſkirmiſhers,


240 THE OBSERVER. N° 25.
ſkirmiſhers, ſneaked away from before him: One
little fellow however had wriggled his chair
nearer and nearer to him, and kept baying at
him whilft he was ſpeaking, perpetually crying
out-“ Give me leave to obſerve not to inter-
“ rupt you, Sir-That is extremely well, but in
« anſwer to what you ſay.”—All this had been
going on without any attention or ſtop on the
part of the ſpeaker, whoſe eyes never once light-
ed on the company, till the little fellow, growing
out of all patience, walked boldly up to him, and
catching hold of a button ſomewhere above the
waiſtband of his breeches, with a ſudden twitch
checked the moving-ſpring of his diſcourſe, and
much to my regret brought it to a full ſtop.
The philoſopher looked about for the infect that
annoyed him, and having at laſt eyed him, as it
were aſkaunce, demanded what it was provoked
him to impatience.--" Have I ſaid any thing,
“ good Sir, that you do not comprehend ?”—
“No, no," replied he, “ I perfectly well com-
“prehend every word you have been ſaying.”-
« Do you ſo, Sir?” ſaid the philoſopher, “ then
“ I heartily aſk pardon of the company for mif-
* employing their time ſo egregiouſly,”-and
ſtalked away without waiting for an anſwer.
· Vaneſſa had now recollected or 'enquired my
name, and in a very gracious manner repeated
her


N° 25. THE OBSERVER. 241
her excuſes for miſtaking me for the diver.---
< But if the old ſaying holds good,” adds ſhe,
« that truth lies at the bottom of a well, I dare
« ſay you will not ſcruple to dive for it, ſo I hope
“ I have not given you a diſhonourable occupa-
« tion.” I was endeavouring at a reply, when
the wit in the ſpectacles came up to us and
whiſpered Vaneſſa in the ear, that the true Di-
ving-bell was in yonder corner ; ſhe immediate-
ly turned that way, and as ſhe paſſed whiſpered a
young lady loud enough for me to hear her-
“My dear, I am in your third volume.”—The
girl bowed her head, and by the Arcadian grace
that accompanied it, I took it for granted the
was a Noveliſt..
I now joined a cluſter of people, who had
crowded round an actreſs, who ſat upon a ſopha,
leaning on her elbow in a penfive attitude, and
ſeemed to be counting the ſticks of her fan,
whilſt they were vying with each other in the
moſt extravagant encomiums." You was
" adorable laſt night in Belvidera,” ſays a pert
young parſon with a high toupee; “ I fat in La-
“ dy Blubber's box, and I can aſſure you the and
« her daughters too wept moſt bitterly—but then
« that charming mad ſcene, by my ſoul it was
“a chef d'oeuvre; pray, Madam, give me leave
« to aſk you, was you really in your ſenſes ?”-..
VOL. I.
“I ftrove


242 THE OBSERVER. N° 25.
« I ſtrove to do it as well as I could,” anſwer-
ed the actreſs. “Do you intend to play comc-
“ dy next ſeaſon?” ſays a lady, ſtepping up to
her with great eagerneſs.—“ I ſhall do as the
“ manager bids me,” ſhe replied. “I fhould
u be curious to know,” ſays an elderly lady,
" which part, Madam, you yourſelf eſteem the
“ beſt you play?”-“I always endeavour to
“ make that which I am about the beſt.” An
elegant young woman of faſhion now took her
turn of interrogatory, and with many apologies
begged to be informed by her, if the ſtudied
thoſe inchanting looks and attitudes before a
glaſs ?-_“I never ſtudy any thing but my au-
“thor.”-“ Then you practiſe them in rehear-
“ fals?” rejoined the queſtioner.-" I ſeldom
“rehcarſe at all,” replied the actreſs. “ She
“has fine cyes,” ſays a tragic poet to an emi-
nent painter, “what modeft dignity they bear,
« what awful penetration! mark how they play
“ in thoſe decp ſockets, like diamonds in the
" mine! whilſt that commanding brow moves
“ over them like a cloud, and carries ſtorm or
« ſun-lhine, as the deity within directs : She is
" the child of nature, or, if you will allow me
“ the expreſſion, nature herſelf; for ſhe is in all
" things original; in pity, or in terror, penitent,
" or preſumptuous, familhed, mad, or dying, ſhe
." is


N° 25. THE OBSERVER. 243
“ is her author's thought perſonified; and if this
“ nation, which faſhion now nails by the ears to
“ the ſhameful pillory of an Italian opera, ſhall
'« ever be brought back to a true reliſh of its
" native drama, that woman will have the merit
“ of their reformation.” This rhapſody was
received with great tranquillity by the painter,
who coolly replied “ All that is very well, but
« where will you ſee finer attitudes, than in an
“ opera dance, or more pictureſque draperies,
“ than in a maſquerade ? Every man for his own
« art.” Vaneſſa now came up, and defiring
leave to introduce a young muſe to Melpomene,
preſented a girl in a white frock with a fillet of
flowers twined round her hair, which hung down
her back in fiowing curls; the young muſe made
a low obeiſance in the ſtile of an Oriental ſalam,
and with the moſt unembarraſſed voice and coun-
tenance, whilſt the poor actreſs was covered with
bluſhes and ſuffering torture from the eyes of all
the room, broke forth as follows:-- .
Oh thou whom Nature's goddeſs calls her own,
Pride of the fiage and favorite of the town“-
-But I can proceed no further, for if the plague
had been in the houſe, I ſhould not have ran
away from it more eagerly than I did from Miſs
and her poetry.
R2 i Nº XXVI.


No 26. THE OBSERVER. 245
world is governed by the abject principle of
fear, for the affiduity, with which this baſhaw
was waited upon by his wife and ſervants, was
ſurprizing. After having curfed the gout, damn-
ed his ſervants, and ſcolded his wife for her awk-
wardneſs in ſwathing his foot, he began to rave
about the ſtate of the nation, crying out to me
every now and then—" A fine paſs you have
“ brought things to at laſt; I always told you
“ how it would be, but you would not believe
“me, and now you are ruined, bankrupt, and
“ undone to the devil; I thought what it would
« come to with your damned American war."-
I told him I had nothing to do with politics, and
knew very little of the matter. " That's true,"
ſays he, “ I underſtand you are writing a book,
“ and going to turn author: You know I am
“ your friend, and always ſpeak my mind, there-
“fore I muſt tell you, you will repent of what
« you are about, Cannot you let the world
“ alone? Is it in your power to make it better?
« Can the devil make it worſe? Why I could
« write a book if I pleafed, but I ſcorn it; nay I
66 was fool enough to do it once from a filly
«s. principle of good will to my country; and
o what was the conſequence? Why, after pro-
"ving as plain as two and two make four that
so we were no longer a nation, that we were
R 3
“ broken,


246. THE OBSERVER, Nº 26.
« broken, baffled, defeated, and upon the eve of
“ being a province to France after having pro-
“ ved all this, d’ye ſee, for the good of my coun-
“ try, what was my reward, think you, but to
“ be abuſed, vilified, poſted in the raſcally news-
“ papers, who threw the twelfth of April in my
“ teeth and ſet the people's heads a madding.
« contrary to all ſenſe and reaſon, though I had
“ been at the pains, of convincing them how
« fooliſh all ſuch hopes were, and that there was
« not a chance left, though miracles ſhould be
« wrought in their favour, of any poſſible falva.
« tion for this devoted kingdom.”
As Leontine is one of thoſe pro and con rea-
foners, who handle their own argument in their
own way by queſtion and anſwer, and know
what their opponent has to offer before he has
uttered three words, I always leave him a clear
ſtage to fight out the ſubject by himſelf as he
can; ſo that he proceeded without interruption
to put a number of queſtions, to which he regu-
larly made reſponſes, and, though theſe were the
very oppoſites to what I ſhould probably have
given, I let them paſs without contradiction, till
there was a ſtop to the torrent by the introduction
of a ſtranger, who after telling Leontine his name,
proceeded to ſay he had a little neceſſary buſineſs
to ſettle with him, which he ſhould take the li-
berty


Nº 26.' THE OBSERVER. 247
berty to explain in very few words. This ſtran-
ger was a little, meagre, conſumptive man, far
advanced in years, of an aſpect remarkably meek
and humble, ſo that it was not without ſurprize
I heard himi begin as follows." I wait upon
« you, Sir, to demand full ſatisfaction and atone-
«ment for an injury you have done to my cha: '
“racter by the baſeft lie that ever man uttered,
« and which if you do not diſavow in as public
« a manner as you reported it, I ſhall expect you
« will immediately anſwer my challenge, as there
" is no other mode of redreſſing wrongs of ſo
«infidious a nature.” When this gentleman an-
nounced his name and deſcription I found he was
a general officer, who had been upon an unfuc-
ceſsful command in the courſe of the war; and
that Leontine in one of his political rhapſodies
had treated his character according to his cuſtom
with great fcurrility; this had unluckily paſſed in
hearing of a friend of the General's, who had en-
deavoured to ſtop Leontine in time, but not be-
ing able ſo to do, had made report to his friend
of what had been ſaid of him in his abſence. As
he fixed his eyes upon Leontine in expectation of
his anſwer, I obſerved his cheeks, which before
were of a ruddy ſcarlet, turn to a deep purple,
which gradually darkened into a livid tawney;
fear fo transformed his features, that the Aying
ſoldier
R4


N° 26. THE OBSERVER. 249
“ my profeſſion indiſpenſibly oblige me not to
“ put up with inſult from any man: There is no
“ alternative therefore left to either of us, but
“ for you to ſign this paper, which I ſhall uſe as
“ I ſee fit in my own vindication, or turn out;
“ I am very ſorry for it; it is an unhappy cul-
«tom, but if occaſions can juſtify it, I take the
“ preſent to be one.”—Having ſo faid, he ten-
dered the paper to Leontine with as much po-
liteneſs and addreſs, as if he had been delivering
a petition to the commander in chief.
The intimidated boaſter took the paper with a
trembling hand, and throwing his eye over it,
begged to know if it might not be mitigated in
ſome particulars :-“I ſhould be very glad to
“ oblige you,” ſays the General, “ in what you
“ with, but they are my words, and as I gene-
“ rally think before I ſpeak or write, I am not
“ in the habit of unſaying any thing I aſſert;
“ you muſt therefore ſign to all, or none."
“ If it muſt be fo, it muſt,” ſays Leontine
with a ſigh, and took the pen. " Stop, Sir, if
“ you pleaſe,” interpoſed the General, “ I would
“ know of this gentleman, if he has any thing to
« offer on your behalf, why you ſhould not ſign
« that paper.” I anſwered, that I had nothing
to offer in the caſe ; upon which Leontine put
his name to the paper. “Sir,” ſays the Gene-
ral,


252 TILE OBSERVER. N° 26,
nothing more were to be wilhed, than for cer-
tain mitigations of this terrible reſource, which
mult ultimately depend upon the voluntary may-
nanimity of thoſe, who are compelled to refort
to it: What I mean is, to expreſs a wiſh that
gentlemen would think it no derogation from
their honour to acknowledge an error, or alk
pardon for an offence; and as it can very rarely
happen, but that one party muſt to his own con-
viction be in the fault, it ſeems to follow, that
all thoſe affairs of honour, that can be done away
by an apology, might by manly and ingenuous
characters be prevented from extremities : As to
injuries of that deep nature, which according to
the infirmity of human ideas, we are apt to call
inexpiable, I preſume not to give an opinion ;
and in the aggravating inſtance of a blow, I have
only to lament, that the ſufferer has to expoſe
his perſon to equal danger with the offender.
Though fome unhappy inſtances of frivolous du-
els have lately occurred, I cannot think that it
is the vice of the times to be fond of quarrelling;
the manners of our young men of diſtinction are
certainly not of that caft, and if it lies with any
of the preſent age, it is with thoſe half-made-up
gentry, who force their way into half-price plays
in boots and ſpurs, and are clamorous in the
pallages of the front boxes in a crowded theatre :
I have


No 26. THE OBSERVER. 253
I have with much concern obſerved this to be
an increaſing nuiſance, and have often wilhed
thoſe turbulent fpirits to be better employed, and
that they had diſmounted from their horſes either
a little fooner or not ſo foon: But it is not by
reaſoning theſe gentlemen will be taught to cor-
rect their behaviour.
I would ſeriouſly recommend to my readers
of all deſcriptions to keep a careful watch upon
their tempers, when they enter into argumenta-
tion and diſpute ; let them be aſſured that by their
management of themſelves on ſuch occaſions
they are to decide their characters; and whether
they are to paſs as men of education, temper,
and politeneſs, or as illiterate, hot, and ill-bred
blockheads, will depend upon their conduct in
this particular. If the following ſhort and ob-
vious maxims were attended to, I think animo-
fities would be avoided and converſation amend-
ed.
Every man, who enters into a diſpute with another,
(whether he ſtarts it or only takes it up) ſhould
hear with patience what his opponent in the ar-
gument has to offer in ſupport of the opinion he
· advancesa
Every
-
-
-
- -


: 254 THE OBSERVER. N° 26.
nts should speaker by ſuperiority.den
Every man, who gives a controverted opinion,
ought to lay it down with as much conciſenels,
temper, and preciſion, as he can. .
An argument once confuted, ſhould never be re-
peated, nor tortured into any other shape by for
• phiſtry and quibble.
No jeji, pun, or witticiſm, tending to turn an op-
ponent or his reaſoning into ridicule, or raiſe
a laugh at his expence, ought by any means
to be attempted; for this is an attack upon the
temper, not an addreſs to the reaſon of a diſpu-
tant.
No two diſputants ſhould ſpeak at the ſame time,
· nor any man overpower another by fuperiority of
• lungs, or the loudneſs of a laugh, or the ſudden
• burſt of an exclamation.
li is an indiſpenſible preliminary to all diſputes,
that oaths are no arguments.
If any diſputant flaps his hand upon the table, let
him be informed that ſuch an action does not
clinch his argument, and is only pardonable in a
blackſmith or a butcher.
If any diſputant offers a wager, it is plain he has
nothing elſe to offer, and there the diſpute should
enil.
Any gentleman who ſpeaks above the natural key of
his voice caſts an imputation on his own courage,


Nº 26. THE OBSERVER. 255
for cowards åre loudeſt, when they are out of
· danger. ... ;
;' .
Contradictions are no arguments, nor any expref-
fions to be made uſe of, ſuch as–That I deny
-There you are miſtaken-That is impoſſi-
ble-or any of the like blunt aſſertions, which
only irritate, and do not elucidate.
The advantages of rank or fortune are no advan-
tages in argumentation ; neither is an inferior
to offer, or a fuperior to extort the ſubmiſſion of
the underſtanding on ſuch occaſions ; for every
man's reaſon has the ſame pedigree; it begins
and ends with himſelf.
If a man diſputes in a provincial dialect, or trips
in his grammar, or, (being Scotch or Iriſh)
uſes national expreſſions, provided they convey
his meaning to the underſtanding of his oppo-
nent, it is a fooliſh jeſt to turn them into ridi-
sule, for a man can only expreſs his ideas in ſuch
language as he is maſter of.
Let the diſputant who confutes another, forbear
from triumph; foraſmuch as he, who increaſes
his knowledge by conviction, gains more in the
conteſt, than he who converts another to his
opinion; and the triumph more becomes the con-
quered, than the conqueror.
Let every diſputant make truth the only object of
his controverſy, and whether it be of his own
finding,
21
I de
ouru


256 THE OBSERVER. N° 26.
finding, or of any other man's beſtowing, let him
think it worth his acceptance and entertain it
accordingly.
N° XXVII.
44
T HE following ſtory is ſo extraordinary,
1 that if I had not had it from good autho-
rity in the country, where it happened, I ſhould
have conſidered it as the invention of ſome poet
for the fable of a drama.
A Portugueſe gentleman, whom I ſhall beg
leave to deſcribe no otherwiſe than by the name
of Don Juan, was lately brought to trial for poi-
ſoning his half-ſiſter by the ſame father, after ſhe
was with child by him. This gentleman had for
fome years before his trial led a very ſolitary life
at his caſtle in the neighbourhood of Montremos,
a town on the road between Liſbon and Badajos,
the frontier garriſon of Spain: I was ſhewn his
caſtle, as I paſſed through that diſmal country,
about a mile diſtant from the road, in a bottom
ſurrounded with cork-trees, and never ſaw a more
melancholy habitation. The circumſtances,
which made againſt this gentleman, were ſo
ſtrong


260 THE OBSERVER. Nº 27.
ſorrow he knew that ſhe did die by poiſon.-
Was that poiſon contained in the medicine fhe
took ?-It was. Did he impute the crime of
mixing the poiſon in the 'medicine to the apo-
thecary; or did he take it on himſelf?— Neither
the apothecary, nor himſelf; was guilty.--Did
the lady from a principle of ſhame; (he was then
aſked) commit the act of ſuicide, and infuſe the
poiſon without his knowledge ?-He ſtarted into
horror at the queſtion and took God to witneſs,
that ſhe was innocent of the deed.
.: The judges ſeemed now confounded, and for
a time abſtained from any further interrogatories,
debating the matter amongſt themſelves by whif-
pers; when one of them obſerved to the priſoner,
that according to his confeſſion he had ſaid ſhe
did die by poiſon, and yet by the anſwers he had
now given, it ſhould ſeem as if he meant to ac-
quit every perſon, on whom ſuſpicion could pof-
fibly reſt;, there was however one interrogatory
left, which unnatural as it was, he would put to
him for form's fake only, before they proceeded
to greater extremities, and that queſtion involved
the father or mother of the lady.-Did he mean
to impute the horrid intention of murdering their
child to the parents ? -No, replied the priſoner
in a firm tone of voice, I am certain no ſuch in-
tention ever entered the hearts of the unhappy
parents,


N° 27. THE OBSERVER. 261
parents, and I ſhould be the worſt of finners, if
I imputed it to them.--The judges upon this
declared with one voice that he was triling with
the court, and gave orders for the rack; they
would however for the laſt time demand of him,
if he knew who it was that did poiſon Joſepha:
to which he anſwered without heſitation, that he
did know, but that no tortures ſhould force him
to declare it; as to life, he was weary of it, and
they might diſpoſe of it, as they ſaw fit; he could
not die in greater tortures than he had lived.
They now took this peremptory recuſant, and
ſtripping him of his upper garments, laid him on
the rack; a ſurgeon was called in, who kept his
fingers on his pulſe; and the executioners were
directed to begin their tortures; they had given
him one ſevere ſtretch by ligatures fixed to his
extremities and paſſed over an axle, which was
turned by a windlaſs; the ſtrain upon his muſcles
and joints by the action of this infernal engine
was dreadful, and nature ſpoke her ſufferings by
a horrid craſh in every limb; the ſweat ſtarted
in large drops upon his face and boſom, yet the
man was firm amidſt the agonies of the machine,
not a groan eſcaped, and the fiend who was
ſuperintendant of the helliſh work, declared
they might encreaſe his tortures upon the next
tug, for that his pulſe had not varied a ſtroke
nor
S 3


262 THE OBSERVER. N° 27.
nor abated of its ſtrength in the ſmalleſt dea
gree.
The tormentors had now begun a ſecond
operation with more violence than the former,
which their deviliſh ingenuity had contrived to
vary ſo as to extort acuter pains from the appli-
cation of the engine to parts, that had not yet
had their full ſhare of the firſt agony; when ſud-
denly a monk ruſhed into the chamber and call-
ed out to th judges to deſiſt from torturing that
innocent man, and take the confeſſion of the
murderer from his own lips. Upon a ſignal
from the judges, the executioners let go the en-
gine at once, and the joints ſnapped audibly into
their fockets with the elaſticity of a bow. Na-
țure funk under the revulſion, and Don Juan
fainted on the rack. The monk immediately
with a loud voice exclaimed “ Inhuman
« wretches, delegates of hell and agents of the
“ devil, make ready your engine for the guilty,
« and take off your bloody hands from the inno-
“cent, for behold !” (and ſo ſaying he threw
back his cowl) “ behold the father and the mur-
“ derer of Joſepha !—”.
The whole aſſembly ſtarted with aſtoniſh-
ment; the judges ſtood aghaft, and even the
dæmons of torture rolled their eye-balls on the
monk with horror and diſmay,
« If


Nº 27. THE OBSERVER. 263
“If you are willing,” ſays he to the judges,
“ to receive my confeffion, whilſt your tormen-
« tors are preparing their rack for the vileft cri-
«minal, ever ſtretched upon it; hear me ! If not,
« ſet your engine to work without further en-
~ quiry, and glut your appetites with human
« agonies, which once in your lives you may
“ now inflict with juſtice.”
« Proceed,” ſaid the ſenior judge.
“ That guiltleſs ſufferer, who now lies inſenſi-
« ble before my eyes,” ſaid the monk, “is the
“ ſon of an excellent father, who was once my
« deareſt friend: He was confided to my charge,
« being then an infant, and my friend followed
“his fortunes to our ſettlements in the Brazils :
“ He reſided there twenty years without viſiting
“ Portugal once in the time; he remitted to me
“ many ſums of money on his ſon's account; at
« this time a helliſh thought aroſe in my mind,
« which the diſtreſs of my affairs and a paſſion
« for extravagance inſpired, of converting the
“property of my charge to my own account; I
“imparted theſe ſuggeſtions to my unhappy wife,
" who is now at her accompt; let me do her
“juſtice to confeſs ſhe withſtood them firmly for
“ a time ; ſtill fortune frowned upon me, and I
“ was finking in my credit every hour; ruin
“ ſtared me in the face, and nothing ſtood be-
“tween
S 4


264 THE OBSERVER. Nº 27.
« tween me and immediate diſgrace, but this
«infamous expedient.
« At laſt perſuafion, menaces, and the impend-
«ing preſſure of neceſſity conquered her virtue,
« and ſhe acceded to the fraud. We agreed to
" adopt the infant as the orphan fon of a diſtant
“ relation of our own name; I maintained a
“ correſpondence with his father by letters pre-
« tending to be written by the ſon, and I ſup-
« ported my family in a ſplendid extravagance by
“ the aſſignments I received from the Brazils,
« At length the father of Don Juan died, and by
« will bequeathed his fortunę to me in failure of
« his ſon and his heirs. I had already advanced
“ ſo far in guilt, that the temptation of this con-
“ tingency met no reſiſtance in my mind, and I
« determined upon removing this bar to my.
“ambition, and propoſed to my wife to ſecure
“ the prize, that fortune had hung within our
“reach, by the aſſaſſination of the heir. She re-
« volted from the idea with horror, and for ſome
“ time her thoughts remained in ſo diſturbed a
“ ſtate, that I did not think it prudent to renew
“ the attack: After ſome time the agent of the
« deceaſed arrived in Liſbon from the Brazils,
" and as he was privy to my correſpondence, it
“ became neceſſary for me to diſcover to Don
" Juan who he was, and alſo what fortune he
« was


N° 27. THE OBSERVER. 265
« was intitled to. In this criſis, threatened with
« ſhame and detection on one hand, and tempted
" by avarice, pride, and the devil on the other,
“ I won over my reluctant wife to a participa-
« tion of my crime, and we mixed that doſe
“ with poiſon, which we believed was intended
“ for Don Juan, but which in fact was deſtined
“ for our only child : She took it; heaven dif-
“ charged its vengeance on our heads, and we
“ law our daughter expire in agonies before our
“ eyes, with the bitter aggravation of a double
“ murder, for the child was alive within her.
“ Are there words in language to expreſs our
“ lamentations ? Are there tortures in the reach
“ of even your invention to compare with thoſe
“ we felt? Wonderful were the ſtruggles of na-
“ ture in the heart of our expiring child: She
“ bewailed us; ſhe conſoled, nay ſhe even forgave
“ us. To Don Juan we made imm diate con-
“ fefſion of our guilt, and conjured him to inflict
“ that puniſhment upon us, which juſtice de-
“ manded and our crimes deſerved. It was in
“ this dreadful moment that our daughter with
“ her laſt breath by the moſt folemn adjurations
“ exacted and obtained a promiſe from Don Juan
“ not to expoſe her parents to a public exe-
“ cution by diſcloſing what had paſſed. Alas!
“ alas ! we ſve too plainly how he kept his word:
“ Behold,


266 THE OBSERVER. N° 25.
“ Behold, he dies a martyr to honour! your in-
“ fernal tortures have deſtroyed him—”.
No ſooner had the monk pronounced theſe
words in a loud and furious tone, than the
wretched Don Juan drew a figh; a ſecond
would have followed, but heaven no longer
could tolerate the agonies of innocence, and
ftopped his heart for ever.
The monk had fixed his eyes upon him,
ghaſtly with terror, and as he ſtretched out his
mangled limbs at life's laſt gaſp " Accurſed
« monſters,” he exclaimed, “ may God requite
« his murder on your ſouls at the great day of
“ judgment! His blood be on your heads, ye
« miniſters of darkneſs! For me, if heavenly
« vengeance is not yet appeaſed by my contri-
« tion, in the midſt of flames my aggrieved ſoul
« will find ſome conſolation in the thought, that
“ you partake its torments.”
Having uttered this in a voice ſcarce human,
he plunged a knife to his heart, and whilft his
blood ſpouted on the pavement dropped dead
upon the body of Don Juan, and expired without
a groan.
N. XXVIII.


No 28. THE OBSERVER. 269
principle on which they pretend to act, would
otherwiſe warrant: If the candid reader can find
an excuſe for them in their zeal and anxiety to
recommend the bleſſings which they offer to
mankind, I will not impede the plea. A fooliſh
partiality ſome people ſtill have for phyſicians
regularly bred, and a ſqueamiſh unwillingneſs
to repair to back-doors and blind alleys for re-
lief, oblige them to uſe ſtrong words to combat
ſtrong prejudices. But though they are at ſome
pains to convince us that our bills of natural
deaths might be all compriſed under the ſingle
article of old age, there is yet here and there an
obſtinate man who will die felo de ſe before the
age of threcſcore years and ten. :
• Whilſt the fages are puffing off our diſtemper's
in one page, the auctioneers are puffing off our
property in another. If this iſland of ours is to
be credited for their deſcription of it, it muſt
pafs for a terreſtrial paradiſe: It makes an Eng-
liſh ear tingle to hear of the boundleſs variety of
lawns; groves, and parks; lakes, rivers, and ri-
vulets; decorated farms and fruitful gardens;
ſuperb and matchleſs collections of pictures,
jewels, plate, furniture, and equipápes ; town-
houſes and country-houſes; hot-houſes and ice-
houſes ; obſervatories and conſervatories; offices
attached and detached; with all the numerous
etceteras


Nº 28. THE OBSERVER, 271
yenerable teachers and inſtructors, who are ena
dowed with the happy faculty of inſtilling arts
and ſciences into their diſciples, like fixed air
into a vapid menftruum: Theſe are the beatified
fpirits whom Virgil places in his poetical Ely-
fium: Fooliſh men amongſt the Greeks, ſuch
as Socrates, Plato, and others, trained their
pupils ſtep by ſtep in knowledge and made a
bugbear of inſtruction; Pythagoras in particu-
lar kept his ſcholars five years in probationary
ſilence, as if wiſdom was not to be learned with-
out labour ; our modern poliſhers puff it into us,
in a morning; the poliſh is laid on at a ſtroke,
juſt as boys turn a braſs buckle into a ſilver
one with a little quickſilver and brick-duft; the
poliſht buckle indeed ſoon repents of its tranſ-
mutation, but it is to be hoped the alluſion does
not hold through, and that the poliſht mind or
body does not relapſe as ſoon to its primitive
ruſticity. Strange! that any body will be a
clown, when the Graces invite us to their pri-
vate hops with hand-bills and advertiſements :
Why do not the whole court of Aldermen dance
at my Lord Mayor's ball inſtead of ſtanding with
their hands in their pockets, when grown gen-
tlemen (let them grow to what fize they may)
are taught to walk a minuet gracefully in three
lectures ? Amazing art! only to be equaled by
the


272. THE OBSERVER. N° 28.
the obftinary that reits it. How are the times
derrenerated! Orpheus fiddles and the brutes
won't dince. Go to the courts of law, liſten to
the bellowing of the bar; mount the gallery of
the fenate, obſerve how this bere and that there
orator bre ks poor Priſcian's head for the good
of his country; enter our theatres--does that
gentleman ſpeak to a ghoft, as á ghoſt ought to
be fpoken to? Walk into a church, if you have
any feeling for the ſacred fublimity of our fer-
vice, you will never walk into another where it is
ſo manzled: Every one of theſe parricides might
be tau. ht not to murder his mother-tongue with-
out mercy, if he would but believe an advertiſe-
mont and betake himfelf to the Poliher. Edu-
cation at our public ſchools and univerſities is
travelling in a wargon for expeditioil, when
there is a bridle road will take you by a ſhort
cut to Parnaflus, and the Polisher has got the
kry of it; he has clocution for all cuſtomers,
lawyers, players, parlons, or fenators; ready-
made talents for all profeſſions, the bar, the ſtage,
the pulpit, or the parliament.
There is another chis of Puffers, who ſpeak
ſtrongly to the paifions, and uſe many curious
devices to allure the fenfes, fitting out their Lot-
tery-offices, like fowlers who catch birds by
night with looking-glasſes and candlus, to entice
us


Nº 28. THE OBSERVER. 273
us to their ſnare. Some of them hang out the
goddeſs of good-fortune in perſon with money-
bags in her hands, a tempting emblem ; others
recommmend themſelves under the auſpices of
ſome lucky name, confounding our heads with
cabaliſtical numbers, unintelligible calculations,
and myſterious predictions, whoſe abſurdity is
their recommendation, and whoſe obſcurity
makes the temptation irreſiſtible:
Omnia enim ſolidi magis admirantur amantque,
Inverſis quæ fub verbis latitantia cernunt.
Eſſences, coſmetics, and a hundred articles of
pretended invention for the frivolous adorning
of our perſons engroſs a conſiderable ſhare of
our public papers; the Puffs from this quarter
are replete with all the gums and odours of
Arabia ; the chemiſts of Laputa were not more
ſubtle extractors of ſunbeams than theſe artiſts,
who can fetch powder of pearls out of rotten
bones and mercury, odour of roſes from a tur-
nip, and the breath of zephyrs out of a cabbage-
ſtalk; they can furniſh your dreſſing-room with
the toilette of Juno, bring you bloom from the
cheeks of Hebe, and a noſegay from the boſom
of Flora. Theſe Puffers never fail to tell you
after a court birth-day that their waſhes, pow-
ders, and odours, were the favorites of the
Yol. I, s
drawinga


274 THE OBSERVER. N° 28.
drawing-room, and that the reigning beautics of
the allembly bought their charms at their coun.
ters.
After theſe follow a rabble of rarce-thew-
men with mermaids, man-tygere, ourang-outangs,
and every monſter and abortion in creation ; co-
lumns of giants and light-infantry companics of
dwarfs; conjurers, rope-dancers, and posture-
maſters; tooth-drawers, oculiſts, and chiropo.
difts; every one puffs himſelf off to the public
in a file as proud as Anticnt Piſtol's; every fel-
low, who can twirl upon his toe, or ride a gallop
on his head, paſtes himſelf up in cffigy on our
public offices and churches, and takes all the
courts in Europe to witneſs to the fame of his
performances. If a raſcal can thew a loufe thro?
a microſcope, he expects all the heads in Eng.
land to itch till they behold it; if a ſon of the
gallows can ſide down a rope from the top of a
Ateeple, he puffs off his flight in Pindarics, that
would make a moderate man's head giddy to
read; nay, we have ſeen a gambling-houſe and a
brothel thrown open to the town, and public
leures in obſcenity audacioully advertiſed in a
Chriſtian city, which would not have been tole-
rated in Sodom or Gomorrah.
I cannot diſinils this ſubject without hinting
to the proprictors of our Royal Theatres, that
this


276
THE OBSERVER. Nori
Nº XXIX.
COCIETY in deſpotic governments is nar-
rowed according to the degree of rigour,
which the ruling tyrant exerciſes over his ſub-
jects. In ſome countries it is in a manner an-
nihilated. As deſpotiſm relaxes towards limited
monarchy, focicty is dilated in the ſame propor-
tion. If we conſider freedom of condition in no
other light than as it affects ſociety, a monarchy
limited by law, like this of ours, is perhaps the
freeſt conſtitution upon earth; becauſe was it to
diverge from the center on which it now reſts,
either towards deſpotiſm on one hand, or demo-
cracy on the other, the reſtraints upon ſocial
freedom would operate in the ſame degree, tho'
not in the ſame mode ; for whether that reſtraint
is produced by the awe of a court, or the pro-
miſcuous liccntiouſneſs of a rabble, the barrier
is in either caſe broken down; and whether it
lets the cobler or the king's meſſenger into our
company, the tyranny is inſupportable and ſociety
is enſlaved.
When an Engliſhman is admitted into what
are called the beſt circles in Paris, he generally
finds ſomething captivating in them on a firſt
acquaintance; for without ſpeaking of their
internal


Tº 29. THE OBSERVER. 279
Nº internal recommendations, it is apt to flatter a
man's vanity to find himſelf in an excluſive par-
ty, and to furmount thoſe difficulties, which
others cannot. As ſoon as he has had time to
examine the component parts of this circle, into
which he has ſo happily ſtept, he readily diſco-
vers that it is a circle, for he goes round and
round without one excurſions the whole party
follows the ſame ſtated revolution, their minds
and bodies keep the fame orbit, their opinions riſe
and ſet with the regularity of planets, and for
what is paſſing without their ſphere they know
nothing of it. In this junto it rarely happens
but ſome predominant ſpirit takes the lead, and
if he is ambitious of making a maſter-ſtroke in-
deed, he may go the length to declare, that he
has the honour to profeſs himſelf an Atheiſt. The
creed of this leading ſpirit is the creed of the
junto; there is no fear of controverſy; inveſtiga.
tion does not reach them, and that liberality of
mind, which a colliſion of ideas only can pro-
duce, does not belong to them; you muſt fall in
with their ſentiments, or keep out of their ſoci-
ety: and hence ariſes that over-ruling ſelf-opinion
ſo peculiar to the French, that aſſumed fuperi-
ority ſo conſpicuous in their manners, which
deſtroys the very eſſence of that politeneſs, which
they boaſt to excel in.
Politeneſs
T3


2.78 THE OBSERVER. N° 29.
Politeneſs is nothing more than an elegant and
concealed ſpecies of Mattery, tending to put the
perſon to whom it is addreſled in good-humour
and refprót with himfelf: But if there is a parade
and diſplay aficcted in the exertion of it, if a
man feems to lay-Look how conilefiending and
gracious I am whilft he has only the com-
mon offices of civility to perform, fuch politencfs
fcems founded in miſtake, and calculated to re-
commend the wrong perſon ; and this miſtake
I have obſerved frequently to occur in French
manncrs.
The national character of the Spaniards is very
different from that of the French, and the habits
of life in Madrid as oppoſite as may be from
thoſe which obtain at Paris. The Spaniards
have been a great and free people, and though
that grandeur and that freedom are no more,
their traces are yet to be ſeen amongſt the Cam
Atilians in particular. The common people have
not yet contracted that obſcquiouſneſs and ſub-
million, which the rigour of their government,
if no revolution occurs to r dreſs it, muſt in
time reduce them to. The condition, which this
gallant nation is now found in, between the def-
potiſon of the throne and the terrors of the 111-
quiſition, cannot be aggravated by deſcription ;
body and mind arc held in ſuch compleat flavery


N° 29. THE OBSERVER. 279
by theſe two gloomy powers, that men are not
willing to expoſe their perſons for the ſake of
their opinions, and ſociety is of courſe exceed-
ingly circumſcribed; to trifle away time ſeems
all they aſpire to; converſation turns upon few
topics, and they are ſuch as will not carry a dif-
pute; neither glowing with the zeal of party,
nor the cordial interchange of mutual confi-
dence; day after day rolls in the ſame languid
round through life; their ſeminaries of education,
eſpecially ſince the expulſion of the Jeſuits, are
grievouſly in decline ; learning is extinct; their
faculties are whelmed in ſuperſtition, and ig-
norance covers them with a cloud of darkneſs,
through which the brighteſt parts cannot find
their way.
If this country ſaw its own intereſts in their
true light, it would conciliate the affections of
the Spaniſh nation, who are naturally diſpoſed
towards England; the hoſtile policy of maintain-
ing a haughty fortreſs on the extremity of their
coaſt, which is no longer valuable than whilſt
they continue to attack it, has driven them into
a compact with France, odious to all true Spa-
niards, and which this country has the obvious
means of diſſolving. It is by an alliance with
England that Spain will recover her priſtine
greatneſs; France is plunging her into provin-
T 4
cial


280 THE OBSERVER. N° 29.
cial dependency; there is ſtill virtue in the Spa-
niſh nation; honefly, ſimplicity, and fobriety are
ftill characteriſtics of the Caſtilian; he is brave,
patient, unrepining; no ſoldier lives harder,
ſleeps leſs, or marches longer; treat him like a
gentleman, and you may work him like a mule ;
his word is a paſſport in affairs of honour, and a
bond in matters of property. That dignity of
nature, which in the higheſt orders of the ſtate
is miſerably debaſed, ſtill keeps its vigour in the
bulk of the people, and will aſſuredly break out
into ſome ſudden and general convulſion for their
deliverance. If there are virtue and good ſenſe
in the adminiſtration of this country, we ſhall
ſeize the opportunity yet open to us.
It now remains that I ſhould ſpeak of Eng-
land, and when I turn my thoughts to my na-
live iNand, and conſider it with the impartiality
of a citizen of the world, I diſcern in it all
advantages in perfection, which man in a ſocial
ſtate can enjoy. A conſtitution of government
fufficiently monarchical to preſerve order and
decorum in ſociety, and popular enough to ſe-
cure freedom; a climate ſo happily tempered,
that the human genius is neither exhauſted by
heat, nor cramped and made torpid by cold; a
land abounding in all manner of productions,
that can encourage induſtry, invite exerciſe and
promote


282 THE OBSERVER. N° 29.
The fact is, trade occupies one end of the
town, and politics engrofs the other: As for
foreigners of diſtinction, who ought in good po-
licy to be conſidered as the gueſts of the ſtate,
after they have gone through the dull ceremonial
of a drawing-room, the court takes no further
concern about them. The crown has no officer
charged with their reception, provides no table
within or without the palace for their entertain-
ment; parliamentary or oficial avocations are a
ſtanding plea for every ſtate miniſter in his turn
to neglect them. The winter climate and coaſt
of England is ſo deterring to natives of more
temperate latitudes, that they commonly pay
their viſits to the capital in the funimer, when it
is deſerted; ſo that after billeting themſelves in
fome empty hotel amidſt the fumes of paint and
noiſe of repairs, they wear out a few tedious
days, and then take fight, as if they had eſcaped
from a priſon. When parliament is ſitting and
the town is full, a man, who does not intereſt
himſelf in the politics and party of the day, will
find the capital an unſocial place; that degree
of freedom, which in other reſpects, is the life of
fociety, now becomes its mortal foc; the zeal,
and even fury, with which people abet their
party, and the latitude they give themſelves in
opinion and diſcourſe, extinguith every voice,
that


284 THE OBSERVER. No 29.
very many affect to deſpiſe it, few are ſo high-
minded as not to feel it; though common
ſlanderers ſeldom have it in their power to hurt
eſtabliſhed reputations, yet they can always con-
trive to ſpoil company, and put honeſt men to the
trouble of turning them out of it.
It is a common ſaying that authors are more
ſpiteful to each other, and more irritable under
an attack, than other men ; I do not believe the
obſervation is well founded; every ſenſible man
knows, that his fame, eſpecially of the literary
kind, before it can paſs current in the world,
pays a duty on entrance, like ſome ſort of mer-
chandize, ad valorem; he knows that there are
always ſome who live upon the plunder of con-
demned reputations, watching the tides of popu-
lar favour in hopes of making ſeizures to their
own account-Habent venenum pro vietu, immo
pro deliciis. --The little injury ſuch men do to
letters chiefy conſiſts in the ſtupidity of their
own productions : They may to a certain degree
check a man's living fame, but if he writes to
poſterity, he is out of their reach, becauſe he
appeals to a court, where they can never appear
againſt him.
When we give our praiſe to any man's cha-
racter or performances, let us give it abſolutely,
and without compariſon, for it is juſtly remarked
by


N. 29. THE OBSERVER. 285
by foreigners, that we feldom commend poſitive-
ly: This remark bears both againſt our good-
nature and our good ſenſe; but let no man by
this or any other declamation againſt flander be
awed into that timid prudence, which affecting
the name of candour, dares not to condemn, and
of courſe is not intitled to applaud. Truth and
juſtice have their claims upon us, and our teſti-
mony againſt vice, folly and hypocriſy is due to
ſociety; manly reſentment againſt miſchievous
characters, cleanly ridicule of vanity and imper-
tinence, and fair criticiſm of what is under pub-
lic review are the prerogatives of a free ſpirit;
they peculiarly belong to Engliſhmen, and he
betrays a right conſtitutionally inherent in him,
who from mean and perſonal motives forbears
to exerciſe it.
When I have ſaid this, I think it right to add,
that I cannot ſtate a caſe, in which a man can
be juſtified in treating another's name with free-
dom, and concealing his own.
Nº XXX,


286. THE OBSERVER. N° 30.
N: XXX
Et quando uberior vitiorum copia? quando
Major avaritiæ patuit Sinus ? ALE A quanda
Hos animos? neque enim loculis comitantibus itur
- Ad caſum tabula, pofitâ ſed luditur arca.
. (JUVENAL. Sat. 1.)
T HE paffage, which I have ſelected for the
1 motto of this paper, will ſhew that I in-
tend to devote it to the confideration of the vice
of Gaming ; and I forbore to ſtate it in my pre-
ceding eſſay amongſt the cauſes, that affect fo-
ciety in this country, becauſe I regarded it as
an evil too enormous to be brought within the
brief enumeration therein contained, reſolving to
treat it with that particular reſpect and attention,
which its high ſtation and dignity in miſchief
have a claim to.
Though I have no heſitation at beginning the
attack, I beg leave to premiſe that I am totally
without hope of carrying it. I may ſay to my
antagoniſts in the words, though not altogether
in the ſenſe, that the angel Gabriel does to his
" Satan, I know thy ſtrength, and thou know'ſt mine."
What avails my hurling a feeble eſſay at the
2
heads


No 30. THE OBSERVER. 287
heads of this hydra, when the immortal drama
of The Gamefter lies trodden under his feet?
Conſcious that I do not poſſeſs the ſtrength,
I ſhall not aſſume the importance of a champion,
and as I am not of dignity enough to be angry,
I ſhall keep my temper and my diſtance too,
ſkirmiſhing like thoſe inſignificant gentry, who
play the part of teazers in the Spaniſh bull-fights,
ſticking arrows in his creſt to provoke him to
bellow, whilſt bolder combatants engage him at
the point of his horns.
It is well for Gameſters, that they are ſo nu-
merous as to make a fociety of themſelves, for
it would be a ſtrange abuſe of terins to rank
them amongſt fociety at large, whoſe profeſſion
it is to prey upon all who compoſe it. Strictly
ſpeaking it will bear a doubt, if a Gameſter has
any other title to be called a man, except under
the diſtinction of Hobbes, and upon claim to
the charter of Homo Homini Lupus–As a Hri-
man IVolf I grant he has a right to his woifjh
prerogatives : He, who fo far ſurprizes my rei-
fon or debauches my principle, as to make me a
party in my own deſtruction, is a worſe enemy
than he who robs me of my property by force
and violence, becauſe he finks me in my own
opinion; and if there was virtue in mankind,
fufficient for their own defence, honeſt men
would


288 TILE OBSERVER. N° 35,
would expel gameſters as outlaws from fociety,
and good citizens drive them from the ſtate, as.
the deitroyers of human happineſs, wretches,
who make the parent childleſs and the wife a
widow.
But what avail a parcel of ſtatutes againſt
gaming, when they, who make them, conſpire
together for the infraction of them? Why de-
clare gaming-debts void in law, when tha: filly
principle, ſo falſely called honour (at once the
idol and the ideot of the world) takes all thoſe
debts upon itſelf and calls them debts of honour?
It is not amongſt things practicable to put gaming
down by ſtatute. If the face of ſociety was ſet
ftcadily againſt the vice; if parents were agreed
to ſpurn at the alliance of a gameſter, however
ennobled; if our ſeminaries of education would
enforce their diſcipline againſt early habits of
play; if the crown, as the fountain of honour,
and the virtuous part of the fair ſex, as the diſ-
penſers of happineſs, would reprobate all men
addicted to this deſperate paſſion, ſomething
might perhaps be done. If tradeſmen would
conſult their own intereſt, and give no credit
to gameſters ; if the infamous gang of money-
lenders could be abſolutely extinguiſhed, and the
people at large, inſtead of riſing againſt a loyal
fellow-ſubject, becauſe he worſhips God accord-
ing


N° 30. THE OBSERVER 291
but unfortunate prince poleſſed the throne, that the
greateſt part of Africa was in revolt: The Gene-
ral, who commanded the Roman legions, was a fol-
dier of approved courage in the field, but of mean
talents and diſolute manners. This man in the
moſt imminent criſis for the intereſts of Rome, ſuf-
fered and encouraged ſuch a ſpirit of gaming to obo
tain amongſt his officers in their military quarters,
that the fineſt army in the world entirely loſt their
diſcipline, and remained inactive, whily a few
levies of raw inſurgents wreſted from the Roman
arms the richeſt provinces of the empire, Hiſtory
records nothing further of this man's fate or for:
tune, but leaves us to conclude that the reproaches
of his own conſcience and the execrations of poſterity
were all the puniſhment he met with; " The empire
was rent by faction, and his party reſcued him
from the diſgrace he merited..
The laſt reſource in all deſperate caſes, which
the law cannot, or will not, reach, lies with the
people at large: It is not without reaſon I ſfate
it as the laſt, becauſe their method of curing dif-
orders is like the violent medicines of empirics,
never to be applied to but in abſolute extremity.
If the people were, like Shakeſpear's Julius Cæ-
far, never to do wrong but with juſt cauſe, I ſhould
· not ſo much dread the operation of their reme-
dies; I ſhall therefore venture no further, thạn
U
2
to


N: 30. THE OBSERVER. 293
what he does not want, riſques every thing he
ought to value, his defence is in his folly, and if
we rob him of that, we probably take from him
the only harmleſs quality he is poſſeſſed of. If
however ſuch an inſtance ſhall occur, and the
dæmon of gaming ſhall enter the ſame breaſt,
where honour, courage, wit, wiſdom reſide, ſuch
a mind is like a motley ſuit of cards, where kings,
queens and knaves are packed together, and make
up the game with temporary good-fellowſhip,
but it is a hundred to one but the knave will beat
them all out of doors in the end.
As there are ſeparate gangs of gameſters, ſo
there are different modes of gaming ; ſome ſet
their property upon games of ſimple chance,
ſome depend upon ſkill, others upon fraud.
The gameſters of the firſt deſcription run
upon luck: a filly crew of Fortune's fools ; this
kind of play is only fit for them, whoſe circum-
ſtances cannot be made worſe by loſing, other-
wiſe there is no proportion between the good
and the evil of the chance; for the good of dou-
bling a man's property bears no compariſon
with the evil of loſing the whole; in the one
caſe he only gains ſuperfluities, in the other he
loſes neceſſaries; and he, who ſtakes what life
wants againſt that which life wants not, makes
a fooliſh bet, to ſay no worſe of it. Games of
chance


N° 30. THE OBSERVER. 295
LOS
DE
when he is no longer in a capacity of doing or
ſuffering further injury in ſociety. I look upon
every man as a ſuicide from the moment he
takes the dice-box deſperately in hand, and all
that follows in his career from that fatal time is
only ſharpening the dagger before he ſtrikes it
to his heart.
My proper concern in this ſhort eſſay is to
ſhew, that Gaming is the chief obſtructing cauſe,
that affects the ſtate of ſociety in this nation,
and I am fenfibie I need not have employed ſo
many words to convince my reader that game-
ſters are very dull and very dangerous compania
ons. When blockheads rattle the dice-box,
when fellows of vulgar and baſe minds ſit up
whole nights contemplating the turn of a card,
their ſtupid occupation is in character ; but
whenever a cultivated underſtanding ſtoops to
the tyranny of fo vile a paſſion, the friend of
mankind ſees the injury to ſociety with that ſort
of aggravation, as would attend the taking of
his purſe on the highway, if upon ſeizure of the
felon, he was unexpectedly to diſcover the perſon
of a judge.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.


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