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 LETTERS 
 
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 LET.
 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 O N 
 
 SEVERAL SUBJECTS. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 To PHILOTES. 
 
 July 4, 1713. 
 
 WHILST you are probably enjoy- 
 ing blue fkies and cooling grots 3 
 1 am fhivering here in the midft of fum- 
 rner. The molles jub arbore Jomni, the 
 fpeluncce vividique lacus are pleasures which 
 we in England can feldom tafte but in 
 dcfcription. For in a climate, where the 
 wanv-eft feafon Is frequently little better 
 B than
 
 2 LETTER I. 
 
 than a milder fort of winter, the fun is 
 much too welcome a gueft to be avoided. 
 If ever we have occafion to complain of 
 him, it muft be for his abfence : at leaft 
 I have feldom found his vifits trouble- 
 fome. You fee I am ftill the fame cold 
 mortal as when you left me. But what- 
 ever warmth I may want in my conftitu- 
 tion, I want none in my affections ; and 
 you have not a friend who is more ardently 
 yours than I pretend to be. You have 
 indeed fuch a right to my heart from 
 mere gratitude, that I almofl wim I owed 
 lefs upon that account, that I might give it 
 you upon a more difinterefted principle. 
 However, if there is any part of it which 
 you cannot demand in juftice, be afTured 
 you have it by affection j fo that on one 
 or other of thefe titles you may always 
 depend upon me as wholly yours. Can 
 it be neceflary after this to add, that I 
 received your letter with iingular fatif- 
 faction, as it brought me an account of your 
 welfare, and of the agreeable manner in 
 which you pafs your time? If there be 
 any room to wim you an increafe of 
 
 pleafure,
 
 L E T T E R I. 3 
 
 pleafure, it is, perhaps, that the three Vir- 
 gins you mention, were a few degrees 
 handibmer and younger. But I would 
 hot defire their charms mould be height- 
 ened, were I not fure they will never 
 Jeflen your repofe ; for knowing your Stoi- 
 cifm as I do, I dare truft your eafe with 
 any thing lefs than a goddefs : and thofe 
 females, I perceive, are fo far removed 
 from the order of divinities, that they 
 feem to require a confiderable advance 
 before I could even allow them to be fb 
 much as women. 
 
 IT was mentioned to me the other day, 
 that there is fome probability we may fee 
 you in England by the winter. When 
 I confidered only my private fatisfadion, 
 I heard this with a very feniible pleafure. 
 But as I have long learnt to fubmit my 
 own intereft to yours, I could not but re- 
 gret there was a likelihood of your being 
 fo foon called off, from one of the moft 
 advantageous opportunities of improve- 
 ment that can attend a fenfible mind. An 
 ingenious Italian author of your acquaint- 
 B 2 ance. 
 

 
 4 LETTER I. 
 
 ance, compares a judicious traveller to a 
 river that encreafes its flream the farther 
 it flows from its fource, or to certain 
 fprings which running through rich veins 
 of mineral, improve their qualities as they 
 pafs along. It were pity then, you mould 
 be checked in fo ufeful a progrefs, and 
 diverted from a courfe, from whence you 
 may derive fo many noble advantages. 
 You have hitherto, I imagine, been able 
 to do little more than lay in materials for 
 your main defign. But fix months now, 
 would give you a truer notion of what 
 is worthy of obfervation in the countries 
 through which you pafs, than twice that 
 time when you were lefs acquainted with 
 the languages. The truth is, till a man 
 is capable of converfing with eafe among 
 the natives of any country, he can never 
 be able to form a juft and adequate idea 
 of their policy and manners. He who 
 fits at a play without underftanding 
 the dialed, may indeed difcover which of 
 the actors are beft dreffed, and how well 
 the fcenes are painted or difpofed ; but 
 
 the
 
 L E T T E R II. g 
 
 the characters and conduct of the dra- 
 ma muft for ever remain a fecret to 
 him. Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 L E T T E R II. 
 
 To CLYTANDER. 
 
 IF I had been a party in the conver- 
 fation you mention, I mould have 
 joined, I believe, with your friend in fup- 
 porting thofe fentiments you feem to con- 
 demn. I will venture indeed to acknow- 
 ledge that I have long been of opinion, the 
 moderns pay too blind a deference to the 
 antients ; and though I have the higheft 
 veneration forfeveral of their remains, yet 
 I am inclined to think they have occa- 
 fioned us the lofs of fome excellent ori- 
 ginals. They are the proper and beft 
 guides, I allow, to thofe who have not 
 the force to break out into new paths. 
 But whilft it is thought fufficient praife 
 to be their followers, genius is checked 
 in her flights, and many a fair trad lies 
 B 3 undif-
 
 6 L E T T E R II, 
 
 undifcovered in the boundlefs regions of 
 imagination. Thus, had Virgil trufted 
 more to his native ftrength, the Romans, 
 perhaps, might have feen an original 
 Epic in their language. But Homer was 
 confidered by that admired poet as the 
 facred objeft of his firft and principal atten- 
 tion j and he feemed to think it as the 
 nobleft triumph of genius, to be adorned 
 with the fpoils of that glorious chief, 
 
 You will tell me, perhaps, that even 
 Homer himfelf was indebted to the an- 
 tients j that the full ftreams he difpenfed, 
 did not flow from his own fource, but 
 were derived to him from an higher. 
 This, I acknowledge, has been aflerted ; 
 but aflerted without proof, and, I may 
 venture to add, without probability. He 
 feems to have flood alone and unfupported ; 
 and to have flood, for that very reafon, fo 
 much the nobler object of admiration. 
 Scarce indeed, I imagine, would his works 
 have received that high regard which was 
 paid to them from their earlieft appearance, 

 
 L E T T E R II. 7 
 
 had they been formed upon prior models, 
 had they (hone only with reflected light. 
 
 BUT will not this fervile humour of 
 fubjecling the powers of invention to the 
 guidance of the antients, account, in fome 
 degree at leaft, for our meeting with fo 
 fmall a number of authors who can claim 
 the merit of being originals ? Is not this a 
 kind of fubmiffion, that damps the fire 
 and weakens the vigour of the mind? 
 For the ancients feem to be confidered 
 by us as fo many guards to prevent the 
 free excurfions of imagination, and fet 
 bounds to her flight. Whereas they 
 ought rather to be looked upon (the few, 
 I mean, who are themfelves originals) as 
 encouragements to a full and uncontrouled 
 exertion of her faculties. But if here 
 or there a poet has courage enough to 
 truft to his own unaflifted reach of 
 thought; his example does not feem fo 
 much to incite others to make the fame 
 adventurous attempts, as to confirm them 
 in the humble difpolition of imitation. 
 For if he fucceeds, he immediately becomes 
 B 4 himfclf
 
 9 L E T T E R II. 
 
 himfelf the occafion of a thoufand models j 
 if he does notj he is pointed out as a dif- 
 couraging inftance of the folly of re- 
 nouncing thofe eftablimed leaders which 
 antiquity has authorized. Thus inven- 
 tion is deprefled, and genius enflaved : The 
 creative power of poetry is loft, and the 
 ingenious, inftead of exerting that pro- 
 ductive faculty which alone can render 
 them the juft objects of admiration, are 
 humbly contented with borrowing both 
 the materials and the plans of their mimick 
 flrudtures. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 9) 
 
 LETTER III. 
 To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 YOUR excellent brawn wanted no 
 additional recommendation to make 
 it more acceptable, but that of your com- 
 pany. However, though I cannot (hare it 
 with my friend, I devote it to his memory, 
 and make daily offerings of it to a certain 
 divinity, whofe temples, though now well- 
 nigh deferted, were once held in the 
 higheft veneration : me is mentioned by 
 antient authors under the name and 
 title of DIVA AMICITIA. To her I 
 bring the victim you have fumimed me 
 with, in all the pomp of Roman rites. 
 Wreathed with the facred viffa, and 
 crowned with a branch of rofemary, I 
 place it on an altar of well polimed ma- 
 hogony, where I pour libations over it of 
 acid wine, and fprinkle it with flower of 
 
 muftard.
 
 io L E T T E R IV. 
 
 muftard. I deal out certain portions to 
 thofe who affift at this focial ceremony, 
 reminding them of the important bufi- 
 nels upon which they are affembled, with 
 an hoc age - t and conclude the feflival with 
 this votive couplet : 
 
 Clofe as this brawn the circling fillet binds, 
 May friendjhips f acred bands unite our minds. 
 
 Farewell. I am, &c. 
 
 L E T T E R IV. 
 
 To P H I D I P P U S. 
 
 HARDLY, I imagine, were you in 
 earneft, when you required my 
 thoughts upon friendship : for, to give you 
 the trueft idea of that generous inter- 
 courfe, may I not juftly refer you back 
 to the fentiments of your own heart ? I 
 am fure, at leail, I have learned to im- 
 prove my own notions of that refined 
 affedion, by thofe inftances which I have 
 
 obferved
 
 L E T T E R IV. n 
 
 obferved in yourfelf ; as it is from thence 
 I have received the clearer!: conviction, 
 that it derives all its ftrength and liability 
 from virtue and good fenfe. 
 
 THERE is not, perhaps, a quality 
 more uncommon in the world, than that 
 which is neceflary to form a man for this 
 refined commerce : for however fociable- 
 nefs may be efteemed a juft characleriftick 
 of our fpeciesj friendlinefs t I am per- 
 fuaded, will fcarce be found to enter into 
 its general definition. The qualifications 
 requifite to fupport and conduct friendfhip 
 in all its ftrength and extent, do not feem 
 to be fufficiently diffufed among the 
 human race, to render them the diftin- 
 guiming marks of mankind ; unlefs gene- 
 rofity and good fenfe mould be allowed 
 (what they never can be allowed) univer- 
 fally to prevail. On the contrary, how 
 few are in pofleffion of thofe moft amia- 
 ble of endowments ? How few are capa- 
 ble of that noble elevation of mind which 
 raifes a man above thofe little jealoufies and 
 
 rival-
 
 12 L E T T E R IV. 
 
 rivalfhips that flioot up in the paths of 
 common amities? 
 
 WE mould not, indeed, fo often hear 
 complaints of the inconftancy and falfe- 
 nefs of friends, if the world in general 
 were more cautious than they ufually are, 
 in forming connections of this kind. But 
 the misfortune is, our friendfhips are apt 
 to be too forward, and thus either fall off 
 in the bloflbm, or never arrive at juft 
 maturity. It is an excellent piece of ad- 
 vice therefore, that the poet Martial gives 
 upon this occafion : 
 
 T'u tantum infpice qui novus paratur, 
 
 Anpojfit fari vetusfoda/is. 
 
 WERE I to make trial of any perfon's 
 qualifications for an union of fo much deli- 
 cacy, there is no part of his conduct I 
 would fooner fingle out, than to oblerve 
 him in his refentments. And this, not 
 upon the maxim frequently advanced, 
 that " the beft friends make the bittereft 
 "enemies}" but, on the contrary, be- 
 caufe I am perfuaded, that he who is 
 
 capable
 
 L E T T E R IV. 13 
 
 capable of being a bitter enemy, can never 
 is the necefiary virtues that conftitute 
 a true friend. For muft he not want 
 generofity (that moft eflential principle 
 of an amicable combination) who can be 
 fo mean as to indulge a fpirit of fettled 
 revenge, and coolly triumph in the op- 
 preffion of an adverfary? Accordingly 
 there is no circumftance in the character 
 of the excellent Agricola, that gives me 
 a higher notion of the true heroifm of 
 his mind, than what the hiftorian of 
 his life mentions concerning his conduct 
 in this particular inftance. Ex Iracundia 
 (fays Tacitus) nibil Jupererat : fecretum G? 
 filentium ejus non timeres. His elevated 
 fpirit was too great to fuffer his refent- 
 ment to furvive the occafion of it ; and 
 thofe who provoked his indignation had 
 nothing to apprehend from thefecret and 
 filent workings of unextinguimed malice. 
 But the practice, it muft be owned (per- 
 haps I might have faid, the principle too) 
 of the world runs ftrongly on the fide of 
 the contrary difpolition j and thus, in op- 
 pofition to that generous fentiment of your 
 
 admired
 
 14 L E T T E R IV. 
 
 admired orator, which I have fo often 
 heard you quote with applaufe, our 
 friendfhips are mortal, whilit it is our en- 
 mities only that never die. 
 
 BUT though judgment muft collect the 
 materials of this goodly ftrudture, it is 
 affection that gives the cement -, and paffion 
 as well as reafon {hould concur in form- 
 ing a firm and lafting coalition. Hence, 
 perhaps, it is that not only the mofb 
 powerful but the moft lafting friendships, 
 are ufually the produce of the early feafon 
 of our lives, when we are moft fufceptible 
 of the warm and affectionate impreffions. 
 The connections into which we enter 
 in any after-period, decreafe in ftrength 
 as our paffions abate in heat; and there is 
 not, I believe, a fingle inftance of a vigo- 
 rous friendmip that ever ftruck root in a 
 bofom chilled by years. How irretriev- 
 able then is the lofs of thofe beft and 
 faireft acquifitions of our youth ! Seneca 
 taking notice of Auguftus Caefar's lament- 
 ing, upon a certain occafion, the death 
 of Maecenas and Agrippa, obferves, that 
 .1 he
 
 L E T T E R IV. 15 
 
 he, who could inftantly repair the deftruct- 
 ion of whole fleets and armies, and bid 
 Rome, after a general conflagration, rife 
 out of her ames even with more luftre 
 than before; was yet unable, during 
 a whole life, to fill up thofe lafting 
 vacancies in his friendmip. A reflection 
 which reminds me of renewing my feli- 
 citations, that you would be more cau- 
 tious in hazarding a life which I have fb 
 many reafons to love and honour. For 
 whenever an accident of the fame kind 
 {hall feparate (and what other accident can 
 feparate) the happy union which has fo 
 long fubfifted between us j where fhall I 
 retrieve fo fevere a lofs ? I am utterly in- 
 difpofed to enter into new habitudes and 
 extend the little circle of my friendmips : 
 happy if I may but preferve it firm and 
 unbroken to the clofing moment of my 
 life ! Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 16 ) 
 LETTER V. 
 
 To Tl MOC LEA. 
 
 July 29, 1729. 
 
 IT is with wonderful fatisfa&ion I find 
 you are grown fuch an adept in the 
 occult arts, and that you take a laudable 
 pleafure.in the antient and ingenious ftudy 
 of making and folving riddles. It is a 
 fcience, undoubtedly, of nioft neceffary 
 acquirement, and deferves to make a part 
 in the educr.tion of both fexes. Thofe 
 of yours may by this means very inno- 
 cently indulge their ufual curiofity of dif- 
 covering and difclofing a fecretj whilft 
 fuch amongft ours who have a turn for 
 deep fpeculations, and are fond of puzzling 
 themfelves and others, may exercile their 
 faculties this way with much private fatis- 
 fa&ion, and without the leaft difturbance 
 to the publick. It is an art indeed which 
 I would recommend to the encourage- 
 ment
 
 L E T T E R V. 17 
 
 ment of both the univerlities, as it affords 
 the eafieft and fhorteft method of convey- 
 ing fome of the moft ufeful principles of 
 logic, and might therefore be introduced 
 as a very proper fubftitute in the room of 
 thofe dry fyftems which are at prefent in 
 vogue in thofe places of education. For 
 as it conlifts in difcovering truth under 
 borrowed appearances, it might prove of 
 wonderful advantage in every branch of 
 learning, by habituating the mind to 
 feparate all foreign ideas, and confequently 
 preferving it from that grand fource of 
 error, the being deceived by falfe con- 
 nections. In mort, Timoclea, this your 
 favourite fcience contains the fum of all 
 human policy 5 and as there is no pafling 
 through the world without fometimes 
 mixing with fools and knaves, who would 
 not choofe to be matter of the enigmatical 
 art, in order, on proper occafions, to be able 
 to lead alide craft and impertinence from 
 their aim, by the convenient artifice of 
 a prudent difguife ? It was the maxim of 
 a very wife prince, that " he who 
 *< knows not how to difTemble, knows 
 C " not
 
 i8 L E T T E R V. 
 
 <f not how to reign :" and I delire you 
 would receive it as mine, that " he who 
 < knows not how to riddle, knows not 
 <c how to live." 
 
 BUT befides the general ufefulnefs of 
 this art, it will have a farther recom- 
 mendation to all true admirers of anti- 
 quity, as being praclifed by the mofl con- 
 fiderable perfonages of early times. It 
 is aim oft three thoufand years ago lince 
 Samfon propoied his famous riddle fo 
 well known; though the advocates for 
 ancient learning mult forgive me, if in 
 this article I attribute the fuperiority to 
 the moderns: for if we may judge of 
 the fkill of the former in this profound 
 art by that remarkable fpecimen of it, the 
 geniufes of thofe early ages were by no 
 means equal to thofe which our times 
 have produced. But as a friend of mine 
 has lately finimed, and intends very (hortly 
 to publifh, a moft curious work in folio, 
 wherein he has fully proved that impor- 
 tant point, I will not anticipate the plea- 
 fure you will receive by perufing his in- 
 
 genkxis-
 
 L E T T E R V. i 9 
 
 genious performance. In the mean while 
 let it be remembered to the immortal 
 glory of this art, that the wifeft man, as 
 well as the greateft prince that ever lived > is 
 {aid to have amufed himfelf and a neigh-* 
 bouring monarch in trying the ftrength 
 of each others talents in this way; feveral 
 riddles, it feems, having patted between 
 Solomon and Hiram, upon condition that 
 he who failed in the folution ihould incur 
 a certain penalty. It is recorded like wife 
 of the great father of poetry, even the 
 divine Homer himfelf, that he had a tafte 
 of this fort ; and we are told by a Greek 
 writer of his life, that he died with vex- 
 ation for not being able to difcover a rid- 
 dle which was propofed to him by fome 
 fimermen at a certain ifland called 16". 
 
 I AM inclined to think, indeed, that 
 the antients in general were fuch admirers 
 of this art, as to infcribe riddles upon their 
 tomb-ftones, and that not fatisficd with 
 puzzling the world in their life-time, they 
 bequeathed enigmatical legacies to the 
 publick after their deceafe. My con- 
 C 2 jeclure
 
 2a L E T T E R V. 
 
 je&ure is founded upon an antient infcrip- 
 tion, which I will venture to quote to you, 
 though it is in Latin, as your friend and 
 neighbour the antiquarian will, I am per- 
 fuaded, be very glad of obliging you with 
 a diflertation upon it. Be pleafed then 
 to afk him, whether he does not think 
 that the following infcription favours my 
 fentiments : 
 
 VJATORES. OPTVMI. 
 HIS. NVGIS.GRYPHIS.AMBAGI.BVSQUB.MEIS. 
 
 CONDONARE. POsiMVS. 
 /* 
 
 However this may be, it is certain that it 
 was one of the great entertainments of the' 
 paftoral life, and therefore, if for no other 
 reafon, highly deferving the attention of 
 our modern Arcadians. You remember, 
 I dare fay, the riddle which the ftiep- 
 herd Dametas propofes to Maenalcas in 
 Dryden's Virgil : 
 Say where the round of Heaven, which all* 
 
 contains, 
 
 70 three fiort ells on earth our figbt\ 
 rejlraim : 
 
 tfbat, and rife a Pbcebm for thy 
 fains. 
 
 This
 
 L E T T E R V. 21 
 
 This asnigma, which has exercifed the 
 guefles of many a learned critic, remains 
 yet unexplained : which I mention not 
 only as an inftance of the wonderful pene- 
 tration which is neceflary to render a man 
 a complete adept in this moft noble fcience, 
 but as an incitement to you to employ your 
 fkill inattempting thefolution. And now, 
 Timoclea, what will your grave friend fay, 
 who reproached you, it feems, for your 
 riddling genius, when he fhall find you 
 are thus able to defend your favourite 
 fiudy by the lofty examples of kings, 
 commentators, and poets ? I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 (22 ) 
 
 LETTER VI, 
 
 To PH i L o T E s. 
 
 Nov. 12, 1714. 
 
 AMONG all the advantages which 
 attend friendfhip, there is not 
 one more valuable than the liberty 
 it admits in laying open the various 
 affections of ones mind, without referve 
 or difguife. There is fomething in dif- 
 clofing to a friend the occafional emotions 
 of ones heart, that wonderfully contri- 
 butes to footh and allay its perturbations, 
 in all its mod penfive or anxious mo- 
 ments. Nature, indeed, feems to have 
 caft us with a general difpofltion to com- 
 munication : though at the fame time it 
 muft be acknowledged, there are few to 
 whom one may fafely be communicative. 
 Have I not reafon then, to efteem it as 
 one of the moil defirable circumftances 
 of my life, that I dare, without fcruple 
 or danger, think fikud to Philotes? It 
 js merely to exercife that happy privilege, 
 
 J now
 
 L E T T E R VI. 23 
 
 I now take up my pen ; and you muft 
 expect nothing in this letter but the 
 picture of my heart in one of its fplenetic 
 hours. There are certain feafons, per- 
 haps, in every man's life when he is dif- 
 fatisfied with himfelf and every thing 
 around him, without being able to give 
 a fubftantial reafon for being fo. At 
 leaft I am unwilling to think, that this 
 dark cloud, which at prefent hangs over 
 my mind, is peculiar to my conftitut.ion, 
 and never gathers in any breaft but my 
 own. It is much more, however, my 
 concern to diffipate this vapour in my- 
 felf, than to difcover that it fometimes 
 arifes in others ; as there is no difpofition 
 a man would rather endeavour to cherifh, 
 than a constant aptitude of being pleafed. 
 But my practice will not always credit 
 my philofophy; and I find it much eafier 
 to point out my diftemper, than to re- 
 move it. After all, is it not a mortify- 
 ing confideration that the powers of reafon 
 fhould be lefs prevalent than thofe of 
 matter ; and that a page of Seneca can 
 not raife the fpirits, when a pint of claret 
 C 4 will?
 
 24 L E T T E R VI. 
 
 will ? It might methinks, fomething abate 
 the infolence of human pride to confider, 
 that it is but increafing or diminishing the 
 velocity of certain fluids in the animal 
 machine, to elate the foul with the 
 gayeft hopes, or fink her into the deepeft 
 defpair j to deprefs the hero into a coward, 
 or advance the coward into a hero. It is 
 to fome fuch mechanical caufc I am 
 inclined to attribute the prefent gloomi- 
 nefs of my mind : at the fame time I will 
 confefs, there is fomething in that very 
 confideration which gives ftrength to the fit, 
 and renders it fo much the more difficult to 
 throw off. For tell me, is it not a difcou- 
 raging reflection to find one/elf fertile (as 
 Shakefpear expreffes it) to every Jkiey influ- 
 ence \ and the fport of every paltry atom ? to 
 owe the eafe of ones mind not only to 
 the difpofition of ones own body, but al- 
 moft to that of every other which fur- 
 rounds us ? Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER VII, 
 
 To CL E o R A. 
 
 Aug. i, 1719. 
 
 IT H i N K, Cleora, you are the true ft 
 female hermit, I ever knew. At 
 leaft I do not remember to have met with 
 any among your fex, of the fame order 
 with yourfelf j for as to the Religious on 
 the other fide of the water, I can by no 
 means efteem them worthy of being 
 ranked in your number. They are a 
 fort of people who either have feen no- 
 thing of the world or too much : and 
 where is the merit of giving up what one 
 is not acquainted with, or what one is 
 weary of? But you are a far more il- 
 luflrious reclufe, who have entered into the 
 world with innocency, and retired from it 
 with good humour. That fort of life, 
 which makes fo amiable a figure in the 
 defcription of poets and philofophers, and 
 which kings and heroes have profefled to 
 afpire after, Cleora actually enjoys ; fte 
 
 lives
 
 26 LETTER VIL 
 
 lives her own, free from the follies and 
 impertinencies, the hurry and difappoint- 
 ments of falfe purfuits of every kind. 
 How much do I prefer one hour of fuch 
 folitude, to all the glittering, glaring, gaudy 
 days of the ambitious ? J (hall not envy 
 them their gold and their filver, their pre- 
 cious jewels, and their changes of raiment, 
 while you permit me to join you and Alex- 
 ander in your hermitage. I hope to do fo 
 on Sunday evening, and attend you to the 
 fiege of Tyre, or the defarts of Africa, or 
 wherever elfe your hero (hall lead you. 
 But mould I find you in more elevated com- 
 pany, and engaged with the rapturous **** 
 even then, I hope, you will not refufe to 
 admit me of your party. If I have not yet a 
 proper gout for the myftic writers, perhaps 
 I am not quite incapable of acquiring one ; 
 and as I have every thing of the hermit 
 in my compofition but the enthuliafm, it 
 is not impoffible but I may catch that alfo, 
 by the affiftance of you and * * * *. I 
 defire you would receive me as a proba- 
 tioner at leaft, and as one who is willing, 
 if he is worthy, to be initiated into your 
 
 fecret
 
 LETTER VII. 27 
 
 fecret doctrines. I think I only want this 
 tafte and a relifh of the marvellous, to be 
 wholly in your fentiments. Poffibly I may be 
 fo happy as to attain both in good time : 
 I fancy at lean: there is a clofe connexion 
 between them, and I mail not defpair of 
 obtaining the one, if I can by any means 
 arrive at the other. But which muft I 
 endeavour at firft ? mall I prepare for the 
 myftic by commencing with the romance, 
 or would you advife me to begin with 
 Malbranche before I undertake Clelia? 
 Suffer me however, ere I enter the 
 regions of fiction, to bear teftimony to 
 one conftant truth, by alluring you 
 that I am, 6cc. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 7!? PH i L OT E s. 
 
 Aug. 20, 1729. 
 
 IF E A R I {hall lofe all my credit with 
 you as a gardener, by this fpecimen 
 which I venture to fend you of the pro- 
 duce of my walls. The fnails, indeed, 
 have had more than their {hare of my 
 peaches and nectarines this feafon : but 
 will you not fmile when I tell you, that 
 I deem it a fort of cruelty to fufFer them 
 to be deftroyed ? I {hould fcarce dare to 
 acknowledge this weaknefs (as the gene- 
 rality of the world, no doubt, would call 
 it) had I not experienced, by many 
 agreeable inflances, that I may fafely lay 
 open to you every fentiment of my heart. 
 To confeis the truth then, I have fome 
 fcruples with refpecl: to the liberty we 
 affume in the unlimited detraction of 
 thofc lower orders of exigence. I know 
 pot upon what principle of reafon and 
 
 jnflice
 
 LETTER VIII. 29 
 
 juftice it is, that mankind have founded 
 their right over the lives of every creature 
 that is placed in a fubordinate rank of 
 being to themfelves. Whatever claim 
 they may have in right of food and felf- 
 defence, did they extend their privilege 
 tit farther than thofe two articles would reafo- 
 nably carry them, numberlefs beings might 
 enjoy their lives in peace, who are now 
 hurried out of them by the moffc wanton 
 and unneceffary cruelties. I cannot in- 
 deed difcover why it (hould be thought 
 lefs inhuman to crufli to death a harmlefs 
 infect, whofe fingle offence is that he eats 
 that food which nature has prepared for 
 him ; than it would be were I to kill any 
 more bulky creature for the fame reafon. 
 There are few tempers fo hardened to the 
 impreffions of humanity, as not to fhud- 
 der at the thought of the latter j and yet 
 the former is univerfally pradifed with- 
 out the leaft check of companion. This 
 feems to arife from the grofs error of fup- 
 pofing, that every creature is really in it- 
 felf contemptible, which happens to be 
 doatted with a body infinitely difpro- 
 2 portionate
 
 3 o LETTER VIII. 
 
 portionate to our own ; not confidering 
 that great and little are merely relative 
 terms. But the inimitable Shakefpear would 
 teach us that, 
 
 the poor beetle that we tread upon, 
 In corporal Jufferancefeeh a pang as great, 
 As when a giant dies. - 
 
 And this is not thrown out in the latitude 
 of poetical imagination, but fupportedby 
 the difcoveries of the moft improved phi- 
 lofophy : For there is every reafon to be- 
 lieve that the fenfations of many infects 
 are as exquiiite as thofe of creatures of far 
 more enlarged dimenfions ; perhaps even 
 more fo. The Millepedes, for inftance, 
 rolls itfelf round, upon the flighted: 
 touch j and the fnail gathers in her horns 
 upon the leaft approach of your hand. 
 Are not thefe the ftrongeft indications of 
 their fenfibility ? and is it any evidence of 
 ours, that we are not therefore induced 
 to treat them with a more fympathizing 
 tendernefs ? 
 
 I WAS
 
 LETTER VIII. 31 
 
 I WAS extremely pleafed with a fenti- 
 ment I met with the other day in honeft 
 Montagne . That good-natured author re- 
 marks, that there is a certain general claim 
 of kindnefs and benevolence which every 
 fpecies of creatures has a right to from us. 
 It is to be regretted that this generous max- 
 im is not more attended to, in the affair 
 of education, and prefled home upon ten- 
 der minds in its full extent and latitude. 
 I am far indeed from thinking, that the 
 early delight which children difcover in 
 tormenting flies, &c. is a mark of any 
 innate cruelty of temper; becaufe this 
 turn may be accounted for upon other 
 principles, and it is entertaining unworthy 
 notions of the Deity to fuppofe he forms 
 mankind with a propenlity to the moil 
 deteftable of all difpofitions. But moft 
 certainly by being unreftrained in fports of 
 this kind, they may acquire by habit, 
 what they never would have learned from 
 nature, and grow up into a confirmed 
 inattention to every kind of fuffering but 
 their own. Accordingly the fupreme 
 I . court
 
 32 LETTER VIII. 
 
 court of judicature at Athens thought an 
 inftance of this fort not below its cogni- 
 zance, and puniflied a boy for putting 
 out the eyes of a poor bird, that had 
 unhappily fallen into his hands. 
 
 IT might be of fervice therefore, it 
 fhould feem, in order to awaken as early 
 as poffible in children an extenfive fenfe 
 of humanity, to give them a view of 
 feveral forts of infects as they may be 
 magnified by the afiiftance of glafles, and 
 to (hew them that the fame evident marks 
 of wifdom and goodnels prevail in the 
 formation of the minuteft infedt, as in 
 that of the moft enormous Leviathan; 
 that they are equally furnifhed with what- 
 ever is neceffary not only to the preferva- 
 tion, but the happinefs of their beings in 
 that clafs of exiftence to which providence 
 has affigned them: in a word, that the 
 whole conftruftion of their refpective or- 
 gans diftinctly proclaims them the objects 
 of the divine benevolence, and therefore 
 that they juftly ought to be fo of ours, 
 I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 >(33) 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 To the fame. 
 
 Feb. i, 1716. 
 
 Yo u fee how much I truft to your 
 good-nature and your judgment, 
 whilft I am the only perfon, perhaps, 
 among your friends, who have ventured 
 to omit a congratulation in form. I 
 am not, however, intentionally guilty; 
 for I really designed you a vifit before 
 nowi but hearing that your acquaint- 
 ance flowed in upon you from all quar- 
 ters, I thought it would be more agree- 
 able to you, as well as to myfelf, if I 
 waited till the * inundation was abated. 
 But if I have not joined in the gene- 
 ral voice of congratulation ; I have not 
 however omitted the fincere, though ii- 
 lent whiles, which the warmed friend- 
 friip can fuggeft to a heart entirely in your 
 jnterefts. Had I not long lince forfaken 
 *he regions of poetry, I would tell you, 
 D in
 
 34 L E T T E R IX. 
 
 in tfce language of that country, 
 often I have faid, may 
 
 nil heaven, 
 
 Jlnd happy conftellations on that hour" 
 Shed their fekttejl influence ! MILT,, 
 
 But plain profe will do as well for plain 
 truth ; and there is no occafion for any 
 art to perfuade you, that you have, 
 upon every occurrence of your life, my 
 beft good wimes. I hope (hortly to have 
 an opportunity of making myfelf better 
 known to Afpafia. When I am fo, I 
 fliall rejoice with her on the choice me 
 has made of a man, from whom I will un- 
 dertake to promife her all the happinefs 
 which the ftate {he has entered into, can 
 afford. Thus much I do not fcruple to 
 fay of her hufband to you : the reft J had 
 rather fay to her. If upon any occafion 
 you (hould mention me, let it be in the 
 character which I moft value myfelf up- 
 on, that of your much obliged and very 
 affectionate friend. 
 
 LET-
 
 I 
 
 (35) 
 LETTER X. 
 
 To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 July 5, 1729*. 
 
 CAN by no means fubfcribe to the 
 fentiments of your laft letter, nor 
 agree with you in thinking, that the love 
 of Fame is a paffion, which either rea- 
 fon or religion condemn. I confefs in- 
 deed, there are fome who have repre^ 
 fented it as inconfiftent with both - y and 
 I remember in particular, the excellent 
 author of fbe religion of nature delineated, 
 has treated it as highly irrational and ab- 
 furd. As the paffiige falls in fo thorough- 
 ly with your own turn of thought, you 
 will have no objection, I imagine, to my 
 quoting it at large 5 and I give it you, at 
 the fame time, as a very great authority 
 on your fide. " In reality (fays that 
 " writer) the man is not known ever the 
 * c more to pofterity, becaufe his name is 
 D 2 tranf-
 
 cc 
 
 36 L E T T E R X. 
 
 " tranfmitted to them: He doth not 
 " live, becaufe his name does. When it 
 " is faid, Julius Csefar fubdued Gaul, 
 " conquered Pompey, &c. it is the fame 
 " thing as to fay, the conqueror of Pom- 
 " pey was Julius Casfar, /". e. Caefar and 
 " the conqueror of Pompey is the fame 
 ff thing j Caefer is as much known 
 st by one deiignation as by the other. 
 The amount then is only this: 
 that the conqueror of Pompey con- 
 quered Pompey; or fomebody con- 
 " quered Pompey; or rather, fince 
 " Pompey is as little known now as 
 " Caefar, fomebody conquered fomebody. 
 <c Such a poor bufinefs is this boafled 
 ct immortality ! and fuch is the thing 
 f called Glory among us ! To difcerning 
 " men this fame is mere air, and what 
 " they defpife, if not Ihun." 
 
 But furely, 'twere to confidcr too cti~ 
 rioujly (as Horatio fays to Hamlet) to con- 
 fder thus. For though fame with pofte- 
 rity mould be, in the Uriel: analyfis of it, 
 no other than what it is here described, a 
 
 mere
 
 L E T T E R X. 37 
 
 mere uninterefUng proportion, amount- 
 ing to nothing more than that jbmebody 
 aded meritorioufly ; yet it would not ne- 
 ceflarily follow, that true philofophy 
 would banifh the defire of it from the 
 human bread. For this paffion may be 
 (as mod certainly it is) wifely implanted 
 in our fpecies, notwithdanding the cor- 
 refponding object mould in reality be 
 very different from what it appears in 
 imagination. Do not many of our mod 
 refined and even contemplative plea- 
 fures owe their exigence to our mif- 
 takes ? It is but extending (I will not fay, 
 improving) fome of our fenfes to a higher 
 degree of acutenefs than we now poffefs 
 them, to make the faired views of nature, 
 or the nobleft productions of art, appear 
 horrid and deformed. To fee things as 
 they truly and in themfelves are, would 
 not always, perhaps, be of advantage to 
 us in the intellectual world, any more 
 than in the natural. But after all, 
 who (hall certainly allure us, that the 
 pleafure of virtuous fame dies with its 
 poffeflbr, and reaches not to a farther 
 D 3 fcenc
 
 3 8 L E T T E R X. 
 
 fcene of exiftence ? There is nothing, it 
 ihould feem, either abfurd or unphilofo-s- 
 phical in fuppofing it pomble at leaft, 
 that the praifes of the good and the ju- 
 dicious, that fiveeteft mujic to an honeft ear 
 in this world, may be echoed back to 
 the manfions of the next} that the 
 poet's defcription of fame may be literal- 
 ly true, and though (he walks upon earth, 
 he may yet lift her head into heaven : 
 
 Ingrediturqifolo et caput inter nubila cvndit. 
 
 Bu T can it be reafonable to extinguifh 
 a paflion. which nature has univerfally 
 lighted up in the human breaft, and 
 which we conftantly find to burn with 
 moft ftrength and brightnefs in the no- 
 bled and bell formed bofoms ? Accord- 
 ingly revelation is fo far from endeavour- 
 ing (as you fuppofe) to eradicate the feed 
 which nature has thus deeply planted, 
 that (he rather feems, on the contrary, to 
 cherim and forward its growth. To be 
 exalted with honour, and to be had in 
 eyerlajling remembrance^ are in the num-
 
 LETTER*. 39 
 
 ber of thofe encouragements which the 
 Jewifli difpenfation offered to the vir- 
 tuous; as the perfon from whom the 
 facred author of the Chriftian fyftem re- 
 ceived his birth, is herfelf reprefented as 
 rejoicing that all generations foould call her 
 ble/ed. 
 
 To be convinced of the great advantage 
 of cheriming this high regard to poile- 
 rity, this noble defire of an after-life in 
 the breath of others, one need only look 
 back upon the hiftory of the ancient 
 Greeks and Romans. What other prin- 
 ciple was it, Hortenfius, which produced 
 that exalted ftrain of virtue in tboje days, 
 that may well ferve as a model to theje? 
 Was it not the confentiens laus bonorum, 
 the incorrupt a vox bene judicantium, (as 
 Tully calls it) the concurrent approbation 
 of the good y the uncorrupted applaufe of 
 the wife, that animated their moft gene- 
 rous purfuits ? 
 
 To confefs the truth, I have been ever 
 
 inclined to think it a very dangerous at- 
 
 D 4 tempt
 
 ^6 L E T T E R X. 
 
 tempt, to endeavour to lefTen the motives 
 of right acting, or to raife any fufpicion 
 concerning their folidity. The tempers 
 and dilpofitions of mankind are fo ex- 
 tremely different, that it feems necefla- 
 ry they mould be called into action by 
 a variety of incitements. Thus while 
 fome are willing to wed virtue for her 
 perfonal charms, others are engaged to 
 take her for the fake of her expected 
 dowry: and fince her followers and 
 admirers have fo little to hope from her 
 in prefent, it were pity, methinks, to 
 reafon them out of any imagined advan- 
 tage in reverfion. Farewell. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 Jfl < 41 ) " 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 70 EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 O&ober 10, 1719. 
 
 I HAVE often mentioned to you the 
 pleafure I received from Mr. Pope's 
 late tranflation of the Iliad : but my ad- 
 miration of that inimitable performance 
 has encreafed upon me, fince you tempted 
 me to compare the copy with the original. 
 To fay of this noble work, that it is the 
 beft which ever appeared of the kind, 
 would be fpeaking in much lower terms 
 than it deferves ; the world perhaps fcarce 
 ever before faw a truly poetical tranfla- 
 tion : for, as Denham obferves, 
 
 Such is our pride, our folly ', or our fate, 
 fhalfew, but thofe who cannot write^ travjlate. 
 
 But Mr. Pope feems in moft places to 
 have been infpired with the fame fublime 
 fpirit that animates his original; as he 
 often takes fire from a fingle hint in his 
 Author, and blazes out even with a flronger 
 
 and
 
 42 L E T T E R XL 
 
 and brighter flame of poetry. Thus the 
 character of Therfites, as it flands in the 
 Englifh Iliad, is heighten'd, I think, with 
 more mafterly ftrokes of fatyr than ap- 
 pear in the Greek ; as many of thofe fimi- 
 lies in Homer, which would appear, per- 
 haps, to a modern eye too naked and un- 
 ornamented, are painted by Pope in all the 
 beautiful drapery of the moft graceful 
 metaphor. With what propriety of figure, 
 for inftance, has he railed the following 
 comparifon : 
 
 Eur* epos xou<pi<n Nor@* xct 
 a?* ^<A)jv, x\t7r]y <g rg 
 
 W*A<j6ocrg;, oo-ov T ITT i 
 ruv \szsv sro&rt 
 
 IL. iii. 10. 
 
 'Thus from bis flaggy wings when Eurusjheds 
 A night of vapours round the mountain-heads^ 
 Swift gliding mifts the dujky fields invade ; 
 3tf thieves more grateful than the midnight 
 
 jbade : 
 While fcarce the fwains their feeding flocks 
 
 furvey, 
 Loft and confused amidft the thicken* d day : 
 
 90
 
 L E T T E R XI. 43 
 
 So wrapt in gathering duff the Grecian train , 
 rf moving cloud, fwept on and hid the plain. 
 
 WHEN Mars, being wounded byDio- 
 med, flies back to heaven, Homer com- 
 pares him in his paflage to a dark cloud 
 raifed by fummer heats, and driven by the 
 wind. 
 
 O^ ^' CK: vt(peav efteS&vv} (ftcuv?) a^, 
 
 IL.V. 864. 
 
 The inimitable tranilator improves this 
 image by throwing in fome circumftances, 
 which, though not in the original, are 
 exactly in the fpirit of Homer : 
 
 As vapour s> blown by Aufter's fultry breath, 
 Pregnant with plagues, and Jhedding feeds of 
 
 death, 
 
 Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rife, 
 Choak the parch* d earth, and blacken all the 
 
 Jkies ; 
 
 In fuch a cloud tie god, from combat driv'n, 
 fligh o'er the dufty ivhirlwindfcales the heav'n. 
 
 THERE is a defcription in the eighth 
 Jx?ok which Euftathius, it feems, efteem- 
 
 ed
 
 44 L E T T E R XL 
 
 ed the moft beautiful night-piece thai 
 could be found in poetry. If I am not 
 greatly miftaken, however, I can produce 
 a finer: and I am perfuaded even the 
 warmeft admirer of Homer will allow 
 the following lines are inferior to the cor- 
 refponding ones in the tranflation : 
 
 1$ <$" OT e.v xy.vu as-fcf. 
 Trgtirtct, on 
 vov 'srcurtu <rx,o7rict,t 
 Kcu vowa,? xctvoQtv a(> uvot^ ctaxr6J& 
 
 flctvjoc, 
 
 plw. IL. viii. 551. 
 
 'As when the moon, refulgent lamp cf night, 
 O'er hetfvns clear azure fpreads her f acred light ; 
 Wloen not a breath difturbs the deep ferene y 
 And not a cloud o'ercafts the folemn feene, 
 Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 
 Andjlars unnumbered gild the glowing pole : 
 O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure Jhed> 
 And tip withfilver ev'ry mountain's head ; 
 Tbenjbine the vales, the rocks in profpeft rife t 
 A flood of glory burfts from all thejkies; 
 The confcious fivains, rejoicing in the ftgbt^ 
 Eye the blue vault, and blefs the ufeful light. 
 
 I FEAR
 
 L E T T E R XI. 45 
 
 I FEAR the enthufiaftic admirers of 
 Homer would look upon me with much 
 indignation, were they, to hear me fpeak 
 of any thing in modern language as equal 
 to the ftrength and majefty of that great 
 father of poetry. But as the following 
 paflage has been quoted by a celebrated 
 author of antiquity, as an inftance of the 
 true Sublime, I will leave it to you to 
 determine whether the tranflation has not 
 at leaft as juft a claim to that character as 
 the original. 
 
 v w. j 
 
 T&JV os Tg r^Aoff-g SXTTOV sv 
 Q; ray jAKryofyjuv fytt ia%y TB Qolcg 
 
 As torrents roll, encreas'd by mmfrous rills, 
 With rage impetuous down their echoing hills* 
 Rujh to the vales , and, pour* d along the plain, 
 Rear thro* a thoufand channels to the main ; 
 The ditfant Jhepberd trembling hears the found: 
 So mix both hotts^ and fo their dies rebound. 
 
 THERE
 
 46 L E T T E R XL 
 
 TH ER E is no antient author more likely 
 to betray an injudicious interpreter into 
 meanefles than Homer ; as it requires the 
 Utmoft fkill and addrefs to preferve that 
 venerable air of fimplicity which is one of 
 the characlmftical marks of that poet, 
 without finking the exprefiion or the fen- 
 timent into contempt. Antiquity will 
 furnifh a very ftrong inflance of the truth 
 of this obfervation, in a fingle line which 
 is preferved to us from a tranflation of the 
 Iliad by one Labeo, a favourite poet, it 
 feems, of Nero : it is quoted by an old 
 fcholiafl upon Perftus, and happens to be 
 a verfion of the following paflage in the 
 fourth book: 
 
 which Nero's admirable poet rendered li- 
 terally thus : 
 
 Crudum manduces Priamum Priamique pi- 
 finnos. 
 
 I need not indeed have gone fo far 
 back for my inftance : a Labeo of our 
 own nation would have fupply'd me with 
 one much nearer at hand. Ogiiby or 
 
 Hobbs
 
 L E T T E R XI. 47 
 
 Hobbs (I forget which) has tranflated this 
 very verfe in the fame ridiculous manner : 
 
 And eat up Priam and his children all. 
 
 BUT among many other paffages of 
 this fort I obferv'd one in the fame book, 
 which rais'd my curiofity to examine in 
 what manner Mr. Pope had conducted it. 
 Juno, in a general council of the gods, 
 thus accofts Jupiter : 
 
 -zirovov 
 
 Aaov aytipxtry, ITg/^aw ncwa. TVIO TS 
 
 which is as much as if {he had faid in 
 plain Englifb, '* Why furely, Jupiter, 
 <c you won't be fo cruel as to render in- 
 <c efFedtual all my expence of labour and 
 cc fweat. Have I not tired every horfe in 
 * c my flable in order to raife forces to ruin 
 ** Priam and his family r" It requires the 
 moft delicate touches imaginable, to raife 
 iuch a fentiment as this into any tolerable 
 degree of dignity. But a ikilful artift 
 
 knows
 
 48 L E T T E R XI. 
 
 knows how to embellish the moft ordinary 
 fubjecl:, and what would be low and fpi- 
 ritlefs from a lefs mafterly pencil, becomes 
 pleafing and graceful when work'd up by 
 Mr. Pope's : 
 
 Shall then, tyrant of tW ethereal plain. 
 My fchemes, my labours, and my hopes be vain? 
 Have I for thisjhook Ilion with alarms, 
 jiffemUed nations^ fet two worlds in arms ? 
 jpread the war I flew from Jhore to Jhore^ 
 1'b'immortal courfers fcarce the labour bore. 
 
 BUT to (hew you that I am not fo en- 
 thufiaftic an admirer of this glorious per- 
 formance, as to* be blind to its imper- 
 fections j I will venture to point out a 
 paffage or two (amongft others which 
 might be mentioned) wherein Mr. Pope's 
 ufual judgment feems to have failed him : 
 
 WHEN Iris is fent to inform Helen 
 that Paris and Menelaus are going to de- 
 cide the fate of both nations by fingle 
 combat, and were actually upon the point 
 of engaging ; Homer defcribes her as 
 haflily throwing her veil over her face 
 4 and
 
 L E T T E R XL 49 
 
 and flying to the Scxm gate, from whence 
 me might have a full view of the field 
 of battle : 
 
 ex. SaXapoio, regsv xcfla, SOUIQU %tx<ra. 
 
 Oil]. CtfMZ Tyfe KCtl CtpQlTTohOl $U BTTOvJo &C. 
 
 II. iii. 142. 
 
 NOTHING could poflibly be more in- 
 terefting to Helen than the circumftances 
 in which (he is here reprefented : it was 
 necefTary therefore to exhibit her, as Ho- 
 mer we fee has, with much eagernefs and 
 impetuolity in her motion. But what can 
 be more calm and quiet than the attitude 
 wherein the Helen of Mr. Pope appears : 
 
 O'er her fair face a fnowy veil Jhe threw 9 
 And foftly fighing from the loom withdrew 
 Her handmaids - - waic 
 
 Her fikntfoottfeps to the Scxan gate. 
 
 THOSE expreffions of fpeed and im- 
 
 petuofity which occur fo often in the ori- 
 
 E ginal
 
 50 L E T T E R XL 
 
 ginal lines, viz. ewlaca. v^pctlo cutyct uut- 
 vcv would have been fufficient, one thould 
 have imagined, to have guarded a tran- 
 ilator from falling into an impropriety of 
 this kind. 
 
 THIS brings to my mind another in- 
 ftance of the fame nature, where our 
 English poet, by not attending to the 
 particular expreflion of his author, has 
 given us a pi&ure of a very different kind 
 than what Homer intended. In the firfl 
 Iliad the reader is introduced into a 
 council of the Grecian chiefs, where ve- 
 ry warm debates arife between Agamem- 
 non and Achilles. As nothing was likely 
 to prove more fatal to the Grecians than 
 a diflention between thofe two princes, 
 the venerable old Neflor is reprefented 
 as greatly alarmed at the confequences of 
 this quarrel, and riling up to moderate 
 between them with a vivacity beyond his 
 years. This circumftance Homer has 
 happily intimated by a fingle word : 
 
 i ' 7I 
 
 ANOPOTIE, 
 
 Upon
 
 L E T T E R XI. 51 
 
 Upon which one of the commentators 
 very juftly obferves ut in re magna et 
 periculoja^ non placide ajjurgentem facit^ 
 fed prorumpentem fenem quoque. A cir- 
 cumftance which Horace feems to have 
 had particularly in his view in the epiftle 
 to Lollius : 
 
 Neflor componere lites 
 
 Inter Peleiden feftinat et inter Atriden. 
 
 Ep. i. 2. 
 
 But this beauty Mr. Pope has utterly o- 
 verlooked, and fubftituted an idea very 
 different from that which the verb UVQPXV 
 fuggefts : he renders it, 
 
 Slow from his feat arofe the Pylian fage. 
 
 But a more unfortunate word could 
 fcarcely have been joined with arofe y 
 as it deflroys the whole fpirit of the 
 piece, and is juft the reverfe of what 
 both the occafion and the original re- 
 quired. 
 
 I DOUBT, Euphronius, you are grow- 
 ing weary : will you have patience, how- 
 E 2 ever,
 
 52 L E T T E R XL 
 
 ever, whilft I mention one obfervation 
 more ? and I will interrupt you no longer. 
 
 WHEN Menelaus and Paris enter the 
 lifts, Pope fays, 
 
 Amidft the dreadful vale the chiefs advance^ 
 All pale with rage> and Jhake the threatening 
 lance. 
 
 In the original it is, 
 
 xcti A%cuuv 
 Aetvov gwp$v*< II. iii. 341. 
 
 But does not the expreffion all pale 
 'with rage call up a very contrary idea 
 to Sum kgKo/dpov ? The former feems to 
 fuggeft to one's imagination the ridiculous 
 paffion of a couple of female fcolds; 
 whereas the latter conveys the terrifying 
 image of two indignant heroes, animated 
 with calm and deliberate valour. Fare- 
 well. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 To CL E o R A. 
 
 March 3, 1724. 
 
 AFTER having read your laft letter, 
 I can no longer doubt of the truth 
 of thofe falutary effedts, which are faid to 
 have been produced by the application of 
 certain written words. I have myfelf 
 experienced the poffibility of the thing, 
 and a few flrokes of your pen have aba- 
 ted a pain, which of all others is the moft 
 uneafy, and the moft difficult to be re- 
 lieved ; even the pain, my Cleora, of the 
 mind. To fympathize with my fuffer- 
 ings, as Cleora kindly afTures me me does, 
 is to afTuage them ; and half the uneafi- 
 nefs of her abfence is removed, when me 
 tells me that (lie regrets mine. 
 
 SINCE I thus afTuredly find that you 
 
 can work miracles, I will believe like- 
 
 wife that you have the gift of prophecy ; 
 
 E 3 and
 
 54 LETTER XII. 
 
 and I can no longer defpair that the time 
 will come, when we mall again meet, 
 fince you have abfolutely pronounced that 
 it will. I have ventured, therefore (as 
 you will fee by my laft letter) already to 
 name the day. In the mean while 1 amufe 
 myfelf with doing every thing that looks 
 like a preparation for my journey ; e gia 
 apro le braccia per Jlringirvi affettuofa- 
 mante al miojenno. 
 
 THE truth is, you are every inftant in 
 my thoughts, and each occurrence that 
 arifes, fuggefts you to my remembrance. 
 If I fee a clear iky I wifh it may extend 
 to you, and if I obferve a cloudy one, I 
 am uneafy led my Cleora mould be ex- 
 pofed to it. I never read an interefting 
 ftory, or a pertinent remark, that I do 
 not long to communicate it to you, and 
 learn to double my reli(h by hearing your 
 judicious obfervations. I cannot take a 
 turn in my garden, but every walk calls 
 you into my mind. Ah Cleora ! I never 
 view thofe fcenes of our former conver- 
 fations, without a figh. Judge then how 
 I often
 
 LETTER XII. 55 
 
 often I figh, when every object that fur- 
 rounds me brings you frefh to my ima- 
 gination. You remember the attitude in 
 which the faithful Penelope is drawn in 
 Pope's Odyfley, when (he goes to fetch 
 the bow of UlyfTes for the fuitors : 
 
 Acrofs her knees jhe lay'd the well-known bow. 
 And penfwe fate, and tears began to flow. 
 
 I find myfelf in numberlefs fuch tender 
 reveriesj and if I were ever fo much 
 difpofed to banifli you from my thoughts, 
 it would be impoffible, I mould do fo 
 in a place where every thing that prefents 
 itfelf to me, reminds me that you were 
 once here. I mud: not expert (I ought 
 not indeed, for the fake of your repofe to 
 wim) to be thus frequently and thus 
 fondly the fubject of your meditations : 
 but may I not hope that you employ a 
 few moments at leaft of every day, in 
 thinking of him whofe whole attention 
 is fixed upon you ? 
 
 I HAVE fent you thehiftory of the Con- 
 
 queft of Mexico, in Engliih, which, as it 
 
 4 is 

 
 $6 LETTER XII. 
 
 is tranflated by fo good a hand, will be 
 equally plealing and lefs troublefome, than 
 reading it in the original. I long to be 
 of this party in your expedition to the 
 new world, as I lately was in your con- 
 quefts of Italy. How happily could I 
 fet by CIcora's fide, and purfue the Spa- 
 niards in their triumphs, as I formerly 
 did the Romans ; or make a tranfition 
 From a nation of heroes to a republic of 
 ants ! Glorious days indeed ! when we 
 paffed whole mornings either with didta- 
 tors or butterflies ; and fometimes fent out 
 a colony of Romans, and fometimes of 
 pmmits ! Adieu, I am &c.
 
 ( 57 ) 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 To PA LEMON. 
 
 Dec. 1 8, 1722. 
 
 THOUGH I am not convinced by your 
 arguments, I am charmed by your 
 eloquence, and I admire the preacher at 
 the fame time that I condemn the doo- 
 trine. But there is no fort of perfons 
 whofe opinions one is more inclined to wim 
 right, than thofe who are ingenioufly in 
 the wrong > who have the art to a.dd grace 
 to error, and can dignify miftakes. 
 
 FORGIVE me then, Palemon, if I am 
 more than commonly felicitous that you 
 (hould review the fentiments you advan- 
 ced (I will not fay, fupported) with fo 
 much elegance in your laft letter, and that 
 I prefs you to re-coniider your notions again 
 and again. Can I fail, indeed, to wim 
 that you may find reafon to renounce an 
 opinion, which may poffibly one day or 
 pther deprive me of a friend, and my 
 
 country
 
 58 LETTER XIII. 
 
 country of a patriot ? while Providence, 
 perhaps, would yet have Ipared him to 
 both. Can I fail to regret, that I fhould 
 hold one of the moft valuable enjoyments 
 of my life, upon a tenure more than or- 
 dinarily precarious, and that, befides thofe 
 numberlefs accidents by which chance may 
 fnatch you from the world, a gloomy fky 
 or a crofs event may determine Palemon 
 to put an end to a life, which all who have 
 fceen a witnefs to muft for ever admire. 
 
 But, " Does the Supreme being (you 
 " afk) difpenfe his bounty upon condi- 
 " tions different from all other benefa- 
 " ctors, and will he force a gift upon me 
 cc which is no longer acceptable ?" 
 
 LET me demand in return, Whether 
 a creature, fo confined in its perceptions 
 as man, may not miftake his true intereft, 
 and reject, from a partial regard, what 
 would be well worth accepting upon a 
 more comprehensive view ? May not even 
 a mortal benefactor better underftand the 
 value of that prefent he offers, than the 
 
 perfon
 
 LETTER XIII. 59 
 
 perfon to whom it is tendered ? And 
 mall the fupreme author of all beneficence 
 be efteemed lefs wife in diftinguifhing the 
 worth of thofe grants he confers ? I agree 
 with you, indeed, that we were called into 
 exiftence in order to receive happinefs, but 
 I can by no means infer from thence, that 
 we are at liberty to refign our being when- 
 ever it becomes a burden. On the con- 
 trary, thofe premiffes feem to lead to a 
 conclufion diredly oppofite ; and if the 
 gracious author of my life created me with 
 an intent to make me happy, does it not 
 necelTarily follow, that I mall moft cer- 
 tainly obtain that privilege, if I do hot 
 juftly forfeit it by my own mifconducl ? 
 Numberlefs ends may be anfwered in the 
 fchemes of Providence by turning afide or 
 interrupting that ftream of bounty, which 
 our limited reafon can in no fort difcover. 
 How prefumptuous then muft it be, to 
 throw back a grant upon the hands of the 
 great governor of the univerfe, merely be- 
 caufe we do not immediately feel or un- 
 derftand its full advantages ! 
 
 IT
 
 60 LETTER XIII. 
 
 THAT it is the intention of the Deity 
 we mould remain in this ftate of being, till 
 his fummons calls us away, feems as evi- 
 dent as that we at firft entered into it by his 
 command : for we can no more continue, 
 than we could begin to exift, without the 
 concurrence of the fame fupreme inter- 
 pofition. While, therefore, the animal 
 powers do not ceafe to perform thofe fun- 
 ctions to which they were directed by their 
 great author, it may juftly, I think, be 
 concluded that it is his defign they mould 
 not. 
 
 STILL, however, you urge, " That by 
 " putting a period to your own exiftence 
 " here, you only alter the modification of 
 c< matter j and how (you afk) is the or- 
 <e der of Providence difturbed by chang^ 
 " ing the combination of a parcel of atoms 
 ' ' from one figure to another ?" 
 
 BUT furely, Palemon, there is a fal- 
 lacy in this reafoning : filicide is fome- 
 thing more than changing the component 
 parts of the animal machine. It is ftrik> 
 
 ing
 
 LETTER XIII. 61 
 
 ing out a fpiritual fubftance from that 
 rank of beings, wherein the wife author 
 of nature has placed it, and forcibly break- 
 ing in upon fome other order of exift- 
 ence. And as it is impoffible for the li- 
 mited powers of reafon to penetrate the 
 fchemes of Providence, it can never be 
 proved that this is not difturbing the 
 fchemes of nature. We poffibly may be, 
 and indeed moft probably are, connected 
 with fome higher rank of creatures : now 
 philofophy will never be able to deter- 
 mine that thofe connections may not be 
 difconcerted by prematurely quitting our 
 prefent manfion. 
 
 ON E of the ftrongeft paffions implant- 
 ed in human nature, is the fear of death. 
 It feems, indeed, to be placed by Provi- 
 dence as a fort of guard to retain mankind 
 within their appointed ftation. Why elfe 
 mould it io univerfally and almoft inva- 
 riably operate ? It is obfervable that no 
 fuch affection appears in any fpecies of 
 beings below us. They have no tempta- 
 tion, or no ability, to delert the poft af- 
 
 figned
 
 62 LETTER XIII. 
 
 figned to them, and therefore, it mould 
 feem, they have no checks of this kind 
 to keep them within their prefcribed li- 
 mits. This general horrour then in man- 
 kind at the apprehenfion of their diflblu- 
 tion, carries with it, I think, a very 
 flrong preemptive argument in favour 
 of the opinion I am endeavouring to 
 maintain. For if it were not given to 
 us for the purpofe I have fuppofed, what 
 other can it ferve ? Can it be imagined 
 that the benevolent author of nature 
 would have fo deeply wove it into our 
 conftitution, only to interrupt our prefent 
 enjoyments ? 
 
 I CANNOT, I confefs, difcover how 
 the practice of filicide can be juftified 
 upon any principle, except that of down- 
 right atheifm. If we fuppofe a good 
 Providence to govern the world, the con- 
 fequence is undeniable, that we muft en- 
 tirely rely upon it. If we imagine an 
 evil one to prevail, what chance is there 
 of finding that happinefs in another fcene 
 which we have in vain fought for in this ? 
 
 The
 
 LETTER XIII. 63 
 
 The fame malevolent omnipotence can 
 as ealily purfue us in the next remove, as 
 perfecute us in this our firil ftation. 
 
 UPON the whole, Palemon, prudence 
 ftrongly forbids fo hazardous an experi- 
 ment as that of being our own executio- 
 ners. We know the worft that can hap- 
 pen in fupporting life under all its moil 
 wretched circumftances : and if we mould 
 be miftaken in thinking it our duty to 
 endure a load, which in truth we may fe- 
 curely lay down j it is an error extremely 
 limited in its confequences. They cannot 
 extend beyond this prefent exiftence, and 
 poffibly may end much earlier : whereas 
 no mortal can with the leaft degree of 
 aflurance pronounce what may not be the 
 effects of acting agreeably to the contrary 
 opinion. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 70 CLYTANDER. 
 
 Sept. 21, 1723. 
 
 IAM by no means in the fentiments of 
 that Grecian of your acquaintance, 
 who as often as he was preffed to marry, 
 replied either that it was too foon or too 
 late. And I think my favourite author, 
 the honefl Montagne, a little too fevere 
 when he obferves upon this flory, quil 
 faut refufer Fopport unite a toute afiion im- 
 portune : For, 
 
 higher of the genial bed by far y 
 
 And with myjlericus reverence I deem. 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 However,' I am not adventurous enough 
 to join with thofe friends you mention, 
 who are foliciting you, it feems, to look 
 out for an engagement of this kind. It 
 is an union which requires fo much deli- 
 cacy in the cementing ; it is a commerce 
 where fo many nice circumftances muft 
 
 concur
 
 LETTER XIV. 65 
 
 concur to render it fuccefsful, that I would 
 not venture to pronounce of any two per- 
 fons, that they are qualified for each 
 other. 
 
 I DO not know a woman in the world 
 who feems more formed to render a man 
 of fenfe and generality happy in this ftate, 
 than Amafia ; yet I mould fcarcely have 
 courage to recommend even Amafia to 
 my friend. You have feen her, I dare 
 fay, a thoufand times j but I am perfuad- 
 ed (he never attracted your particular ob- 
 fervation : for fhe is in the number of 
 thofe who are ever overlooked in a crowd. 
 As often as I converfe with her, fhe puts 
 me in mind of the golden age : there is 
 an innocency and fimplicity in all her 
 words and actions, that equals any thing 
 the poets have defcribed of thofe pure 
 and artlefs times. Indeed the greateft 
 part of her life has been fpent much in 
 the fame way as the early inhabitants o 
 the world, in that blamelefs period of it, 
 ufed, we are told, to difpofe of theirs -, 
 under the fhade and fhelter of her own 
 F vene-
 
 66 LETTER XIV. 
 
 venerable oaks, and in thofe rural amufe- 
 ments which are fare to produce a confirm- 
 ed habit both of health and chearfulnefs. 
 Amafia never faid, or attempted to fay, a 
 fprightly thing in all her life ; but me has 
 done ten thoufand generous ones ; and if 
 fhe is not the moft confpicuous figure at 
 an aflembly, (he never envied or malign- 
 ed thofe who are. Her heart is all ten- 
 dernefs and benevolence : no fuccefs ever 
 attended any of her acquaintance which 
 did not fill her bofom with the moft dif- 
 interefted complacency j as no misfortune 
 ever reached her knowledge, that fhe did 
 not relieve or participate by her genero- 
 fity. If ever fhe mould fall into the 
 hands of a man fhe loves (and I am per- 
 fuaded fhe would efteem it the worfl 
 kind of proftitution to refign herfelf into 
 any other) her whole life would be one 
 continued feries of kindnefs and compli- 
 ance. The humble opinion me has of 
 her own uncommon merit, would make 
 her fo much the more fenfible of her 
 hufband's ; and thofe little fubmiffions, 
 
 which
 
 LETTER XIV. 67 
 which a woman of more pride and fpirit 
 would confider only as a claim of right, 
 would be efteemed by Amafia as fo many 
 additional motives to her love and grati- 
 tude. 
 
 BUT if I dwell any longer upon this 
 amiable picture, I may be in danger, per- 
 haps, of refembling that antient artift, 
 who grew enamoured of the production of 
 his own pencil : for my fecurity, there^ 
 fore, as well as to put an end to your 
 trouble, it will be beft, I believe, to flop 
 here. I am. 6cc. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 68) 
 
 LETTER' XV. 
 To PH i D i PPU s. 
 
 YE s, Phidippus, I entirely agree with 
 you : the, antients moft certainly 
 had much loftier notions of Friendfhip, 
 than feem to be generally entertained at 
 prefent. But may they not juftly be con- 
 iidered on this fubjecT:, as downright 
 enthufiafts ? Whilft indeed they talk of 
 friendfhip as a virtue, or place it m a 
 rank little inferiour, I can admire the 
 generous warmth of their fentiments : but 
 when they go fo far as to make it a ferious 
 queftion, whether juftice herfelf ought not 
 in fome particular cafes to yield to this 
 their fupreme affection of the heart ; there, 
 I confefs, they leave me far behind. 
 
 IF we had not a treatife extant upon 
 this fubjedt, we mould fcarce believe this 
 facl upon the credit of thofe authors who 
 have delivered it down to us : but Cicero 
 
 him-
 
 L E T T E R XV. 69 
 
 himfelf has ventured to take the affirma- 
 tive fide of this debate in his celebrated 
 dialogue infcribed Laslius. He follow- 
 ed, it feems, in this notion the fentiments 
 of the Grecian Theophraftus, who pub- 
 lickly maintained the fame aftoniming 
 theory. 
 
 IT muft be confefled however, thefe 
 admirers of the falfe fublime in friendfhip, 
 talk upon this fubjecl: with fo much cau- 
 tion and in fuch general terms, that one is 
 inclined to think they themfelves a little 
 fufpefted the validity of thofe very princi- 
 ples they would inculcate. We find, at 
 leaft, a remarkable inftance to that pur- 
 pofe, in a circumftance related of Chilo, 
 one of thofe famous fa^es who are diftin- 
 
 O 
 
 guiftied by the pompous title of the wife 
 men of Greece. 
 
 THAT celebrated philofopher being 
 upon his death-bed, addrefled himfelf, we 
 are informed, to his friends who ftood 
 round him, to the following effect : " I 
 " cannot through the courfe of a long life, 
 F 3 " look
 
 70 L E T T E R XV. 
 
 c< look back with uneafmefs upon any fin- 
 " gle inftance of my conduct, unlefs, per- 
 " haps, on that which I am going to 
 " mention, wherein, I confefs, I am ftill 
 " doubtful whether I acted as I ought, or 
 <l not: I was once appointed judge in 
 " conjunction with two others, when my 
 < c particular friend was arraigned before 
 ft us. Were the laws to have taken their 
 <{ free courfe, he muft inevitably have 
 ec been condemned to die. After much 
 " debate therefore with myfelf, I refolv- 
 <f ed upon this expedient : I gave my own 
 " vote according to my confcience, but 
 '* at the fame time employed all my elo- 
 <c quence to prevail with my aflbciates to 
 *' abfolve the criminal. Now I cannot 
 " but reflecl upon this act with concern, 
 " as fearing there was fome thing of per- 
 (t fidy, in perfuading others to go count- 
 " er to what I myfelf efleemed right." 
 
 IT does not, certainly, require any great 
 depth of cafuiftry to pronounce upon a 
 cafe of this nature. And yet, had Tully, 
 that great mafter of reafon, been Chile's 
 
 confeflbr
 
 L E T T E R XV. 71 
 
 confeflbr upon this occafion, it is very 
 plain he would have given him abfolution, 
 to the juft fcandal of the moft ignorant 
 curate that ever lulled a country village. 
 
 WHAT I have here obferved, will fug- 
 geft, if I miftake not, a very clear anfwer 
 to the queftion you propofe j " Whence it 
 <f fhould happen that we meet with in- 
 c fiances of friendfhip among the Greek s 
 " and Romans, far fuperiour to any thing 
 " of the fame kind which modern times 
 " have produced ? " For while the great- 
 eft genius's among them employed their 
 talents in exalting this noble affection, and 
 it was encouraged even by the laws them- 
 felves -, what effects might one not expect 
 to arife from the concurrence of fuch pow- 
 erful caufes ? The feveral examples of this 
 kind which you have pointed out, are un- 
 doubtedly highly animating and fmgular ; 
 to which give me leave to add one inftance 
 no lefs remarkable, tho', I think, not fo 
 commonly obferved : 
 
 F 4 EUDA-
 
 72 L E T T E R XV. 
 
 EUDAMIDAS the Corinthian (as the 
 flory is related in Lucian's Toxaris) tho' 
 in low circumftances himfelf, was happy 
 in the friendihip of two very wealthy 
 perfons, Charixenus and Aretheus. Eu- 
 damidas, finding himfelf drawing near his 
 end, made his will in the following terms : 
 " I leave my mother to Aretheus, to be 
 " maintained and protected by him in her 
 <f old age. I bequeath to Charixenus the 
 " care of my daughter j defiring that he 
 " would fee her difpofed of in marriage, 
 " and portion her at the fame time with 
 " as ample a fortune as his circumftances 
 " (hall admit: and, in cafe of the death 
 <{ of either of thefe my two friends, I fub-* 
 " ftitute the furvivour in his place." 
 
 THIS will was looked upon by fome (as 
 we may well imagine) to be extremely ri- 
 diculous j however the legatees received 
 information of it with very different fenti- 
 ments, accepting of their refpeclive lega^- 
 cies with great fatisfaclion. It happened 
 that Charixenus died a few days after his 
 friend the teftator ; the furvivouriLip there- 
 fore
 
 L E T T E R XV. 73 
 
 fore taking place in favour of Aretheus, he 
 accordingly not only took upon himfelf 
 the care of his friend's mother, but alfo 
 made an equal diftribution of his eftate 
 between this child of Eudamidas, and an 
 only daughter of his own, folemnizing 
 both their marriages on the fame day. 
 
 I DO not recoiled that any of the mo- 
 derns have raifed their notions of friend- 
 fhip to thefe extravagant heights, except- 
 ing only a very fingular French author, 
 who talks in a more romantic ftrain up- 
 on this fubject than even the antients 
 themfelves. Could you, Phidippus, be- 
 lieve a man in earneft, who mould aflert 
 that the fecret one has fwore never to re- 
 veal, may without perjury be difcovered 
 to one's friend ? Yet the honeft Mon- 
 tagne has ventured gravely to advance this 
 extraordinary dodrine in clear and pofi- 
 tive terms. But I never knew a fenfible 
 man in my life, that was not an enthu- 
 fiaft upon fome favourite point; as in* 
 deed there is none where it is more excu- 
 fable than in the article of friendship. It 
 
 is
 
 74 L E T T E R XV. 
 
 is that which affords the moil pleaf- 
 ing fun-fhine' of ^our days j if there- 
 fore we fee it now and then break oat 
 with a more than reafonable warmth and 
 luftre, who is there that will not be in- 
 clined to pardon an excefs, which can 
 only flow from the moft generous princi- 
 ? Adieu. I am, &c. 

 
 (75) 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 To the fame. 
 
 July 3, 1716. 
 
 WHEN! mentioned grace as eflen- 
 tial in conflituting a fine writer, 
 I rather hoped to have found my fenti- 
 ments reflected back with a clearer light 
 by yours ; than imagined you would have 
 called upon me to explain in form, what 
 I only threw out by accident. To con- 
 fefs the truth, I know not whether, after 
 all that can be faid to illuftrate this un- 
 common quality, it muft not at laft be 
 refolved into the poet's nequeo monftrare 
 & fentio tantum. In cafes of this kind, 
 where language does not fupply us with 
 proper words to exprefs the notions of 
 one's mind, we can only convey our fen- 
 timents in figurative terms : a defect which 
 neceflarily introduces feme obfcurity. 
 
 I WILL not, therefore, undertake to 
 mark out with any fort of precifion, that 
 
 idea
 
 76 LETTER XVI. 
 
 idea which I would exprefs by the word 
 grace j and, perhaps, it can no more be 
 clearly defcribed, than juftly defined. To 
 give you, however, a general intimation of 
 what I mean when I apply that term to 
 compofitions of genius, I would refemble 
 it to that eafy air, which fo remarkably 
 diftinguimes certain perfons of a genteel 
 and liberal caft. It confifts not only in the 
 particular beauty of fingle parts, but arifes 
 from the general fymmetry and conftruc- 
 tion of the whole. An author may be juft 
 in his fentiments, lively in his figures, and 
 clear in his expreffion ; yet may have no 
 claim to be admitted into the rank of 
 finimed writers. Thofe feveral members 
 muft be fo agreeably united as mutually 
 to reflect beauty upon each other : their 
 arrangement muft be fo happily difpofed 
 as not to admit of the leaft tranfpofition 
 without manifeft prejudice to the entire 
 piece. The thoughts, the metaphors, the 
 ftllufions, and the diction mould appear 
 eafy and natural, and feem to arife like 
 fo many fpontaneous productions, rather 
 than as the effects of art or labour. 
 
 WHATEVER
 
 LETTER XVI. 77 
 
 WHATEVER therefore is forced or 
 affected in the fentiments ; whatever is 
 pompous or pedantic in the expreffion, is 
 the very reverfe of grace. Her mien is 
 neither that of a prude nor a coquet ; (he 
 is regular without formality, and fprightly 
 without being fantaftical. Grace, in fhort, 
 is to good writing, what a proper light 
 is to a fine picture j it not only {hews all 
 the figures in their feveral proportions and 
 relations, but (hews them in the mofl 
 advantageous manner. 
 
 As genteelity (to refume my former 
 illuftration) appears in the minuteft action, 
 and improves the moil inconfiderable ge- 
 fture ; fo grace is difcovered in the placing 
 even of a fingle word, or the turn of a 
 mere expletive. Neither is this inexpref- 
 fible quality confined to one fpecies of 
 compofition only, but extends to all the 
 various kinds ; to the humble Paftoral as 
 well as to the lofty Epic ; from the flight- 
 eft letter to the moft folemn difcourfe. 
 
 I K NOW not whether Sir William Tem- 
 ple may not be confidered as the firft of 
 
 our
 
 78 LETTER XVI. 
 
 ourprofe authors, who introduced a grace- 
 ful manner into our language. At leaft 
 that quality does not feem to have appear- 
 ed early, or fpread far, amongft us. But 
 wherefoever we may look for its origin, 
 it is certainly to be found in its higheft 
 perfection in the late effays of a gentleman 
 whofe writings will be diftinguimed fo 
 long as politenefs and good fenfe have any 
 admirers. That becoming air which Tully 
 efteemed the criterion of fine compofition, 
 and which every reader, he fays, imagins 
 fo eafy to be imitated, yet will find fo 
 difficult to attain, is the prevailing chara- 
 cteriftic of all that excellent author's moft 
 elegant performances. In a word, one 
 may juftly apply to him what Plato, in 
 his allegorical language, fays of Arifto- 
 phanes ; that the Graces, having fearched 
 all the world round for a temple wherein 
 they might for ever dwell, fettled at laft 
 in the breail of Mr. Addifon. Adieu. 
 I am, 6cc. 
 
 LET.
 
 (79) 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 To PA L A ME D E S. 
 
 Nov. 4; 1720. 
 
 r ~T~ t HE dawn is overcajl, the morning lours 
 And heavily with clouds brings on the 
 day 
 
 How then can I better difappoint the 
 gloomy effects of a louring fky, than by 
 calling my thoughts off from the dull 
 fcene before me, and placing them upon 
 an object which. I always confider with 
 pleafure ? Much, certainly, are we in- 
 debted to that happy faculty, by which, 
 with a fort of magic power, we can bring 
 before one's mind whatever has been the 
 fubject of its moft agreeable contempla- 
 tion. In vain, therefore, would that lovely 
 dame, who has fo often been the topic 
 of our conventions, pretend to enjoy you 
 to herfelf : in fpight of your favourite 
 philofophy, or even of a more powerful 
 divinity j in fpight of Fortune herfelf, I can 
 i place
 
 So LETTER XVII. 
 
 place you in my view, though half a cen- 
 tury of miles lies between us. But am I 
 for ever to be indebted to imagination only 
 for your prefence ? and will you not fome- 
 times let me owe that pleafure to your 
 felf ? Surely you might fpare me a few 
 weeks before the fummer ends, without 
 any inconvenience to that noble plan up- 
 on which I know you are fo intent. As 
 for my own ftudies, they go on but flow- 
 ly : I am like a traveller without a guide 
 in an unknown country, obliged to en- 
 quire the way at every turning, and con- 
 fequently cannot advance with all the ex- 
 pedition I wim. Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XVIII, 
 To PA LEMON. 
 
 May 28, 1718. 
 
 Is it poffible you can thus defcend from 
 the higheft concerns to the loweft, 
 and after deliberating upon the affairs of 
 Europe, have the humility to enquire into 
 mine ? But the greateft ftatefmen, it feems, 
 have their trifling as well as their ferious 
 hours ; and I have read of a Roman con- 
 ful that amufed himfelf with gathering 
 cockle-fhells, and of a Spartan monarch 
 who was found riding upon a hobby- 
 horfe. Or mall I rather fay, that friend- 
 mip gilds every object upon which me 
 mines ? As it is the fingular character of 
 Palemon to preferve that generous flame 
 in all its ftrength and luftre amidft that 
 ambitious atmofphere, which is generally 
 cfleemed fo unfavourable to every brighter, 
 affedtion. 
 
 IT is upon one or other qf thofe prin- 
 ciples alone, that you can be willing to 
 G fufpend
 
 S 2 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 fuipend your own more important engage- 
 ments by attending to an account of mine. 
 They have lately indeed been more diver- 
 fified than ufual, and I have pafled thefe 
 three months in a continual fucceffion of 
 new fcenes. The moft agreeable, as well as 
 the fartheft part of my progrefs, was to 
 the feat of Hortenfius ; and I am per- 
 fuaded you will not think my travels have 
 been in vain, fmce they afford me an op- 
 portunity of informing you, that our 
 friend is in pofleffion of all that happi- 
 ne(s which I am fure you wi(h him. It 
 is probable however, you have not yet 
 heard that he owes the chief part of it to 
 female merit : for his marriage was con- 
 cluded even before thofe friends who are 
 moft frequently with him, had the leaft 
 fufpicion of his intentions. But though 
 he had fome reafons for concealing his 
 defigns, he has none for being afhamed 
 of them now they are executed. I fay 
 not this from any hafty approbation, but 
 as having long known and efteemed the 
 lady whom he has chofen : and as there is a 
 pleafure in bringing two perfons of merit 
 
 to
 
 LETTER XVIII. 83 
 
 to the knowledge of each other, will you 
 allow me, in the remainder of this letter, 
 to introduce her to your acquaintance ? 
 
 HORTENSIA is of a good ftature, and 
 perfectly well proportioned j but one can- 
 not fo properly fay her air is genteel, as 
 that it is pleafing : for there is a certain 
 unaffected carelefihefs in her drefs and 
 mien that wins by degrees rather than 
 ftrikes at firft fight. If you were to look 
 no farther than the upper part of her 
 face, you would think her handfome ; 
 tvere you only to examine the lower, you 
 would immediately pronounce the re- 
 verfe ; yet there is fomething in her eyes 
 which, without any pretence to be called 
 fine, give fuch an agreeable livelinefs to 
 her whole countenance, that you fcarce 
 obferve, or foon forget, all her features 
 are not regular. Her converfation is ra- 
 ther cheerful than gay, and more infr.ru- 
 dive than fprightly. But the principal ' 
 and moft diftinguimed faculties of her 
 mind are her memory and her judgment^ 
 both which flic poffefTes in a far higher 
 G 2 degree
 
 84 LETTER XV1IL 
 
 degree than one ufually finds even in per- 
 fons of our fex. She has read moil of* 
 the capital authors both in French and 
 Englifhj but her chief and favourite 
 companions of that kind have lain among 
 the hiftorical and dramatic writers. There 
 is hardly a remarkable event in antient or 
 modern flor^, of which me cannot give 
 a very clear and judicious account ; as me 
 is equally well verfed in all the principal 
 characters and incidents of the moft ap- 
 proved ftage-compofitions. The mathe- 
 matics is not wholly a ftranger to her ; 
 and tho' (he did not think proper to pur- 
 fue her enquiries of that kind, to any great 
 length ; yet the very uncommon facility 
 with which (he entered into the realbn- 
 ings of that fcience, plainly difcovered 
 fhe was capable of attaining a thorough 
 knowledge of all its moft abftrufe branch- 
 es. Her tafte in performances of polite 
 literature is always juft, and (he is an ex- 
 cellent critic without knowing Any thing 
 of the artificial rules of that fcience. Her 
 obfervations therefore upon fubje&s of that 
 fort, are fo much the more to be relied upon 
 
 as
 
 LETTER XVIII. 85 
 
 as they are the pure and unbias'd dictates 
 of nature and good fenfe. Accordingly 
 Hortenfius, in the feveral pieces which 
 you know, he has publifhed, conftantly 
 had recourfe to her judgment j and I have 
 often heard him upon thofe occafions ap- 
 ply, with fingular pleafure, and with equal 
 truth, what the tender Propertius fays of 
 his favourite Cynthia : 
 
 Mejuvat in gremio doftce kgiffe 
 
 Auribus et puris Jcripta probajje mea: 
 
 H<zc ubi contlgerint ) populi confufa valeto 
 Fabula ; natn, dominajudice^ tutus ero. 
 
 BUT her uncommon ftrength of under- 
 flanding has preferved her from that fatal 
 rock of all female knowledge, the im- 
 pertinent oftentation of it : and (lie thinks 
 a referve in this article as an efkntial part 
 of that modefty which is the ornament 
 of her fex. I have heard her obferve, 
 that it is not in the acquired endow- 
 ments of the female mind, as in the beau- 
 ties of her perfon, where it may be fufficient 
 praife, perhaps, to follow the example of 
 (he virgin defcribed by Taflb, who, 
 
 G 3 NQK
 
 86 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 Non coprefue bellezze 3 e non I'efpofe. 
 
 On the contrary me efteems it a point of 
 decency to throw a veil over the fuperiour 
 charms of her understanding : and if ever 
 {he draws it afide, you plainly perceive it is 
 rather to gratify her good nature than her 
 vanity 3 leis in compliance with her own in- 
 clinations, than with thofe of her company. 
 
 HER refined fenfe and extenfive know- 
 ledge has not, however, raifed her above 
 the more neceffary acquifitions of female 
 fcience : it has only taught her to fill that 
 part of her character with higher grace 
 and dignity. She enters into all the do- 
 meftic duties of her fration with the mofl 
 confummate ikill and prudence. Her ce- 
 concmical deportment is calm and fteddy j 
 and me prefides over her family like the 
 intelligence of fome planetary orb, con- 
 ducting it in all its proper directions with- 
 out violence or difturbed efforts. 
 
 THESE qualities, however confiderable 
 they might appear in a lefs mining cha- 
 racter, are but under-parts in Hortenfia's : 
 
 for
 
 LETTER XVIII. S 7 
 
 for it is from the virtues of her heart that 
 fhe derives her moft irrefiftible claim to 
 efteem and approbation. A cbnftant flow 
 of uniform and unaffected chearfulnefs 
 gladdens her own breaft, and enlivens that 
 of every creature around her. Her beha- 
 viour under the injuries me has received 
 (for injuries even the blamelefs Horteniia 
 has received) was with all the calm forti- 
 tude of the moft heroick patience ; as flic 
 firmly relied that Providence would either 
 put an end to her misfortunes, or fupport 
 her under them. And with that elevated 
 hope (he feemed to feel leis for herfelf, 
 than for the unjuft and inhuman author 
 of her fufferings, generoufly lamenting to 
 fee one, fo nearly related to her, ftand 
 condemned by that fevereft and moft fig- 
 nificant of fentences, the united reproaches 
 of the world and of his confciencc. 
 
 THUS, Palemon, I have given you a 
 faithful copy of an excellent original : but 
 whether you will join with me in think^ 
 ing my pencil has been true to its fubjecr, 
 rnuft be left to fome future opportunity 
 to determine. I am, &c. 
 
 Q 4 LET-
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 To HoRTENSIUS. 
 
 Dec. 10, 1730, 
 
 I HAVE read over the treatife you re- 
 recommended to me, with attention 
 and concern. I was forry to find an au^ 
 thor, who feems fo well qualified to ferve 
 the caufe of truth, employing his talents 
 in favour of what appears to me a moft 
 dangerous error. I have often wondered, 
 indeed, at the policy of certain philofo- 
 phers of this caft, who endeavour to ad- 
 vance religion by depreciating human na- 
 man nature. Methinks it would be more 
 for the intereft of virtue, to reprefent her 
 congenial (as congenial (he furely is) with 
 our make, and agreeable to our untainted 
 conftitution of foul ; to prove that every 
 deviation from moral rectitude is an op- 
 pofition to our native bias, and contrary to 
 thofe characters of dignity which the Cre- 
 ator has univerfally imprefled upon the 
 
 mind*
 
 LETTER XIX. 89 
 
 mind. This, at leaft, was the principle 
 which many of the antient philofophers 
 laboured to inculcate ; as there is not, per- 
 haps, any fingle topick in ethics that might 
 be urged with more truth or greater effi- 
 cacy. 
 
 IT is upon this generous and exalted 
 notion of our fpecies, that one of the no- 
 bleft precepts of the excellent Pythagoras 
 is founded : navjw & pahrct, (fays that 
 philofopher) cuwuveo <row\ov. The firft 
 and leading difpofition to engage us on 
 the fide of virtue was, in that fage's efti- 
 mation, to preferve above all things a con- 
 flant reverence of our own mind, and to 
 (iread nothing fo much as to offend againft 
 its native dignity. The ingenious Mr. 
 Norris, I remember, recommends this pre- 
 cept as one of the beft, perhaps, that was 
 ever given to the world. May one not 
 juftly then be furprifed to find it fo fel- 
 dom enforced in our modern fyftems of 
 morality? To confefs the truth, I am 
 ftrongly inclined to fufpect, that much of 
 {hat general contempt of every manly 
 
 principle,
 
 9 o LETTER XIX. 
 
 principle, which fo remarkably diftin- 
 guifhes the prefent times, may fairly be at- 
 tributed to the humour of difcarding this 
 animating notion of our kind. It has been 
 the fafhion to paint human nature in the 
 harmeft and moft unpleafing colours. Yet 
 there is not, furely, any argument more 
 likely to induce a man to act unworthily, 
 than to perfuade him that he has nothing 
 of innate worthinefs in his genuine difpo- 
 fition j than to reafon him out of every 
 elevated notion of his own grandeur of 
 foul ; and to deftroy, in (hort, every mo- 
 tive that might jiiftly infpire him with a 
 principle of felf-reverence : that fureft in- 
 ternal guard Heaven feems to have affign- 
 ed to the human virtues. Farewell. J 
 am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 To CL Y T A NDE R. 
 
 July i, 1717. 
 
 Di D you imagine I was really in ear- 
 ned, when I talked of quitting 
 the fplendours of a court, and withdraw- 
 ing from thofe gilded profpecls which am- 
 bition had once fo ftrongly fet in my 
 view ? But my vows, you fee, are not in 
 the number of thofe which are made to 
 be broken ; for the retreat I had long me- 
 ditated, is now, at lad, happily executed. 
 To fay truth, my friend, the longer I li- 
 ved in the high fcenes of action, the more 
 I was convinced that nature had not form- 
 ed me for bearing a part in them : and 
 though I was once fo unexperienced in the 
 ways of the world as to believe I had ta- 
 lents, as I was fure I had inclination, to 
 ferve my country, yet every days conver- 
 fation contributed to wean me by degrees 
 from that flattering delufion. 
 
 How
 
 92 L E T T E R XX. 
 
 How indeed could a man hope to ren- 
 der himfelf acceptable to the various par- 
 ties which divide our nation, who profef- 
 fes it as his principle, that there is no flri- 
 king wholly into the meafures of any, 
 without renouncing either ones fenfe or 
 ones integrity ? And yet, as the world is 
 at prefent constituted, it is fcarce poffible, 
 I fear, to do any good in ones generation 
 (in publick life I mean) without lifting 
 under fome or other of thofe various ban- 
 ners, which diftinguim the fevcral corps 
 in thefe our political warfares. To thofe 
 therefore who may have curioiity enough 
 to enter into my concerns, and aik a rea- 
 fon for my quitting the town, I anfwer 
 in the words of the hiftorian, Civitatis 
 inorum tcedet pigetque. But I am wan- 
 dering from the purpofe of my letter, 
 which was not fo much to juftify my re- 
 treat, as to incline you to follow me into 
 it : to follow me, I mean, as a vifitor on- 
 ly ; for I love my country too well to call 
 you off from thofe great fervices you are 
 capable of doing her. 
 
 2 I HAVE 
 
 -
 
 I E T T E R XX. 93 
 
 I HAVE pitched my tent upon a fpot 
 which I am perfuaded will not difpleafe 
 you. My villa (if you will allow me to 
 call by that fine name, what in truth is 
 no better than a neat farm-houfe) is fitu- 
 ated upon a gentle rife, which commands 
 a (hort, though agreeable view of about 
 three miles in circumference. This is 
 bounded on the north by a ridge of hills 
 which afford me at once both a fecure 
 fhelter and a beautiful profpecl j for they 
 are as well cultivated as the moft fertile 
 valleys. In the front of my houfe, which 
 ftands fouth-eafi, I have a view of the 
 river that runs, at the diftance of fome- 
 thing lefs than a quarter of a mile, at the 
 end of my grounds ; and after making 
 feveral windings and returns, feems to lofe 
 itfelf at the foot of thofe hills I juft men- 
 tioned. As for my garden, I am obliged 
 to nature for its chief beauties ; having no 
 other (except a fmall fpot which I have 
 allotted for the purpofes of my table) but 
 what the fields and meadows afford. 
 Thofe however, I have embellimed with 
 fboie care, having intermixed among the 
 
 hedges
 
 9 4 L E T T E R XX. 
 
 hedges all the feveral forts of flowering 
 fhrubs. 
 
 BUT I muft not forget to mention* 
 what I look upon to be the principal or- 
 nament* of the place ; as indeed I do not 
 recollect to have feen any thing of the kind 
 in our Englifh plantations. I have covered 
 a fmall fpot with different forts of ever- 
 greens, many of which are of a fpecies 
 not very ufual in our country. This little 
 plantation I have branched out into vari- 
 ous labyrinth-walks, which are all ter- 
 minated by a fmall temple in the centre. 
 I have a double advantage from this arti- 
 ficial wood j for it not only affords me a 
 very fhady retreat in fumrner, but, as it 
 is fituated oppofite to my library, fupplies 
 me in winter with a perfpective of the 
 moft agreeable verdure imaginable. 
 
 WHAT heightens my relim of this 
 retirement, is the company of my Cle- 
 ora j as indeed many of the befl im- 
 provements I have made in it, are ow- 
 ing to hints which I have received from 
 
 her
 
 L E T T E R XX. 95 
 
 her exquilite tafte and judgment. She 
 will rejoice to receive you as her guefi 
 here ; and has given it me in charge to 
 remind you, that you have promifed to 
 be fo. As the bufinefs of Parliament is 
 now drawing to a conclufion, I may urge 
 this to you without any imputations upon 
 my patriotifm j tho' at the fame time I 
 muft add, I make a very confiderable fa- 
 crifice of private intereft whenever I re- 
 lign you for the fake of the publick. A- 
 dieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 (96) 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 Nov. 7, 1730. 
 
 YOUR admired poet, I remember, 
 fomewhere lays it down as a ma- 
 xim, that 
 
 tte proper ftudy of mankind is man. 
 
 There cannot indeed be a more ufeful, 
 nor one mould imagine a more eafy fci- 
 ence : fo many leflbns of this kind are eve- 
 ry moment forcing themfelves upon our 
 obfervation, that it mould feem fcarce 
 poffible not to be well acquainted with 
 the various turns and difpofitions of the 
 human heart. And yet there are fo few 
 who are really adepts in this article, that 
 to fay of a man, he knows the world, is ge- 
 nerally efteemed a compliment of the 
 moil fignificant kind. 
 
 THE reafon, perhaps, of the general 
 ignorance which prevails in this fort of 
 
 knowledge^
 
 LETTER XXI. 97 
 
 knowledge, may arife from our judging 
 too much by univerfal principles. Where- 
 as there is a wonderful difparity in man- 
 kind, and ntimberlefs characters exift 
 which cannot properly be reduced to any 
 regular and fixed ftandard. Monficur Paf- 
 chal obferves, that the greater fagacity any 
 man porfefles, the more originals he will 
 difcern among his fpecies j as it is the re- 
 mark of Sir William Temple, that no na- 
 tion under the fun abounds with fo many 
 as our own. Plutarch, if I remember 
 right, is of opinion that there is a wider 
 difference between the individuals of our 
 kind, than what is obfervable between 
 creatures of a feparate order ; while Mon- 
 tagne (who feems to have known human, 
 nature perfectly well) fuppofes the diitance 
 to be (till more remote, and aflerts that 
 the diflinclion is much greater between 
 man and man, than between man and 
 bead. 
 
 THE comic writers have not, I think, 
 
 taken all the advantage they might of this 
 
 infinite diverfity of humour in the human 
 
 H race.
 
 9 3 LETTER XXI. 
 
 race. A judicious obferver of the world 
 might fingle out abundant materials for 
 ridicule, without having recourfe to thofe 
 worn-out characters which are for ever 
 returning upon the ftage. If I were ac- 
 quainted with any genius in this clafs of 
 writers, I think I could furnifh him with 
 an original, which, if artfully reprefented 
 and connected with proper incidents, might 
 be very fuccefsfully introduced into come- 
 dy. The perfon I have in view is my 
 neighbour Stilotes. 
 
 STILOTES in his youth was efteemed 
 to have good fenfe and a tolerable tafte 
 for letters ; as he gained fome reputation 
 at the Univerfity in the exercifes ufual at 
 that place. But as foon as he was freed 
 from the reftraint of tutors, the natural 
 reftleflhefs of his temper broke out, and 
 he has never, from that time to this, ap- 
 plied himfelf for half an hour .together to 
 any fingle purfuit. He is extremely active 
 in his difpofltion ; but his whole life is 
 .one inceffant whirl of trifles. He rifes, 
 perhaps, with a full intent of amufing
 
 LETTER XXI. 99 
 
 himfelf all the morning wiih his gun; but 
 before he has got half the length of a field, 
 he recollects that he owes a vifit which he 
 muft inftantly pay : accordingly his horfe 
 is faddled and he fets out. But in his way 
 he remembers that he has not given pro- 
 per orders about fuch a flower, and he 
 muft abfolutely return, or the whole ceco- 
 nomy of his nurfery will be ruined. Thus, 
 in whatever action you find him engaged, 
 you may be fure it is the very reverfe of 
 what he propofed. Yet with all this 
 quicknefs of tranfition and vivacity of fpi- 
 rits, he is fo indolent in every thing that 
 has the air of bufinefs, that he is at leaft 
 two or three months before he can per- 
 fuade himfelf to open any letter he re- 
 ceives : and from the fame difpofition he 
 has fuffered the dividends of his flocks to 
 run on for many years without receiving 
 a milling of the intereft. Stilotes is pof- 
 feffed of an eftate in Dorfetfhire, but that 
 being the place where his chief bufinefs 
 lies, he choofes conftantly to re fide with 
 a relation near London. This perfon fub- 
 mits to his humour and his company in 
 H 2 hopes
 
 ioo LETTER XXI. 
 
 hopes that Stilotes will confider him in 
 his will, but it is more than poflible, that 
 he will never endure the fatigue of fign- 
 ing one. However, having here every 
 thing provided for him but clothes and 
 pocket money, he lives perfectly to his 
 fatisfaclion, in full employment without 
 any real bufinefs ; and while thofe who 
 look after his eftate take care to fupply 
 him with fufficient to anfwer thofe two 
 articles, he is entirely unconcerned as to 
 all the reft : though when he is difpofed to 
 appear more than ordinarily important 
 he will very gravely harangue upon the 
 roguery of fie wards, and complain that 
 his rents will fcarce maintain him in pow- 
 der and (hot half the partridge feafon. In 
 ihort, Stilotes is one of the moft extraor- 
 dinary compounds of indolence and acti- 
 vity that I ever met with ; and as I know 
 you have a tafte for curiofities, I prefent 
 you with his character as a rarity that me- 
 rits a place in your collection. Adieu, I 
 am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 To PHILOTES. 
 
 Aug. 5, 1724. 
 
 DON'T you begin to think that I ill 
 deferve the prefcription you fent 
 me, fince I have fcarce had the manners 
 even to thank you for it ? I muft confefs I 
 have neglected to honour my phyfician with 
 the honour due unto him -, that is, I have 
 omitted, not only what I ought to have 
 performed in good breeding, but what I 
 am exprefly enjoined by my Bible. I am 
 not, however, entirely without excufe: 
 a filly one, I own ; neverthelefs it is the 
 truth. I have lately been a good deal out 
 of fpirits. But at length the fit is over. 
 Amongft the number of thofe things which 
 are wanting to fecure me from a return of 
 it, I mufh always reckon the company of 
 my friend. I have indeed frequent occa- 
 fion for you : not in the way of your 
 profefTion, but in a better ; in the way of 
 friendship. There is a healing quality in 
 H 3 that
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 that intercourfe, which a certain author 
 has, with infinite propriety, termed the 
 medicine of life. It is a medicine, which 
 unluckily lies almoft wholly out of my 
 reach ; fortune having feparated me from 
 thofe few friends whom I pretend or de- 
 lire to claim. General acquaintances, you 
 know, I am not much inclined to culti- 
 vate ; fo that I am at prefent as much fe- 
 cluded from fociety as if I were zfojourner 
 in ajlrange land. Though retirement is my 
 dear delight, yet upon fome occafions, I 
 think I have too much of it j and I agree 
 with Balzac, que lafolitude eft certainement 
 une belle chofe : mais ily a plaifir d* avoir 
 quelqitun qui fache repondre -, a qui on ptujje 
 dire de terns en terns , que la folitude eft une 
 belle cbofe. But I muft not forget, that as 
 I fometimes want company, you may as 
 often wifh to be alone ; and that I may, 
 perhaps, be at this inftant breaking in up- 
 on one of thofe hours which you defire 
 to enjoy without interruption. I will only 
 detain you therefore whilii I add, that I 
 am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 To PA LAME DBS. 
 
 March 10, 1703. 
 
 YOUR refolution to decline thofe over- 
 tures of acquaintance which Me- 
 zentius, it feems, has lately made to you, 
 is agreeable to thofe refined principles 
 which have ever influenced your conduct. 
 A man of your elegant notions of integrity 
 will obferve the fame delicacy with refpecl: 
 to his companions, as Casfar did with re- 
 gard to his wife, and refufe all commerce 
 with perfons even but of fufpsdted honour. 
 It would not, indeed, be doing juftice to 
 Mezentius, to reprefent him in that num- 
 ber, for though his hypocrify has preferved 
 to him fome few friends, and his immenfe 
 wealth draws after him many followers, 
 the world in general are by no means di- 
 vided in their ientiments concerning him. 
 
 BUT whilft you can have his picture 
 
 from fo many better hands, why are you 
 
 H 4 deiirous
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 defirous of feeing it by mine ? It is a pain- 
 ful employment to contemplate human 
 nature in its deformities ; as there is no- 
 thing, perhaps, more difficult than to exe- 
 cute a pourtrait of the characteriftical kind 
 with ftrength and fpirit. However, fmce 
 you have alligned me the tafk, I do not 
 think myfelf at liberty to refuleit ; efpe- 
 cially as it is your intereft to fee him deli- 
 neated in his true form. 
 
 ME ZEN T i us, with the defigns and ar- 
 tifice of a Catiline, affects the integrity and 
 patriotifm of a Cato. Liberty, juiHce, and 
 honour, are words which he knows per- 
 fectly well how to apply with addrefs; 
 and having them always ready upon pro- 
 per occafions, he conceals the blackeft pur- 
 pofes under the fiireft appearances. For 
 void, as in truth he is, of every worthy 
 principle, he has too much policy not to 
 pretend to the noble ft ; well knowing that 
 counterfeit virtues are the moft fuccefsful 
 vices. It is by arts of this kind, that not- 
 Ovithftanding he has (hewn himfelf unre- 
 {trained by the mofl facred engagements 
 
 of
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 of fociety, and uninfluenced by the mod 
 tender affections of nature, he has dill 
 been able to retain fome degree of cre- 
 dit in the world : for he never facri- 
 fices his honour to his intereft, that he 
 does not, in Tome lefs confiderable, but 
 more open inftance, make a conceffion of 
 his intereft to his honour ; and thus, while 
 he finks his character on one fide, very 
 artfully raifes it on the other. Accord- 
 ingly, under pretence of the moft fcru- 
 pulous delicacy of confcience, he lately re- 
 figned a pod which he held under my 
 lord Godolphin ; when at the fame time 
 he was endeavouring, by the mod fhame- 
 lefs artifices and evafions, to keep a friend 
 of mine out of the poffeffion of an eftate, 
 to which, by all the laws of honour and 
 honefty, he had a mod indifputable right. 
 
 BUT will you not fufpect that I am 
 defcribing a phantom of my own imagi- 
 nation, when I tell you after this- that he 
 has creeled himfelf into a reformer of 
 manners, and is fo injudicioufly oflicious 
 as to draw the enquiry of the world upon 
 
 his
 
 io6 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 his own morals by attempting to expofe 
 the defedls of others. A man who ven- 
 tures publickly to point out out the ble- 
 mimes of his contemporaries mould at 
 leaft be free from any uncommon ftain 
 himfelf, and have nothing remarkably 
 dark in the complexion of his own pri- 
 vate character. But MEZENTIUS, not 
 fatisfied with being vitious, has at length 
 determined to be ridiculous ; and after ha- 
 ving wretchedly fquandered his youth and 
 his patrimony in riot and diflblutenefs, is 
 contemptibly mifpending his old age in 
 meafuring impotent fyllables, and dealing 
 out pointlefs abufe. Farewell. I am, 6cc. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( I0 7 ) 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 To ORON T ES. 
 
 April 9, 1714. 
 
 TH E pafiage you quote is entirely in 
 my fentiments. I agree both with 
 that celebrated author and yourfelf, that 
 our oratory is by no means in a ftate of 
 perfection, and, tho' it has much ftrength 
 and folidity, that it may yet be rendered 
 far more polimed and affecting. The 
 growth indeed of eloquence, even in thofe 
 countries where me flourifhed moft, has 
 ever been exceedingly flow. Athens had 
 been in pofleffion of all the other polite 
 improvements, long before her pretenfions 
 to the perfuafive arts were^ in any degree 
 confiderable ; as the earlieft orator of note 
 among the Romans did not appear fooner 
 than about a century before Tully. 
 
 THAT great mailer of perfuafion, tak- 
 ing notice of this remarkable circum- 
 ilance, afllgns it as an evidence of the fu- 
 
 periour
 
 io8 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 riour difficulty of his favourite art. Po* 
 libly there may be fome truth in the ob- 
 fervation : but whatever the caufe be, the 
 fact, I believe, is undeniable. Accordingly 
 eloquence has by no means made equal 
 advances in our own -country, with her 
 fitter arts ; and though we have feen fonre 
 excellent poets, and a few good painters 
 rife up amongft us, yet I know not whe- 
 ther our nation can fupply us with a fin- 
 gle Orator of deferved eminence. One 
 cannot but be furprized at this, when it is 
 confidered, that we have a profeflion fet 
 apart for the purpofes of perfuafion j and 
 which not only affords the moft animat- 
 ing and interefting topicks of rhetorick, 
 but wherein a talent of this kind would 
 prove the likelieft, perhaps, of any other 
 to obtain thofe ambitious prizes which 
 were thought to contribute fo much to the 
 fuccefsful progrefs of antient eloquence. 
 
 AMONG the principal defeds of our 
 
 Englifh orators, their general diiregard of 
 
 harmony has, I think, been the leaft ob- 
 
 ferved. It would be injuftice indeed to 
 
 4 deny
 
 LETTER XXIV. 109 
 
 deny that we have fome performances of 
 this kind amongft us, tolerably mufical ; 
 but it muft be acknowledged at the fame 
 time, that it is more the effe<5t of acci- 
 dent than defign, and rather a proof of 
 the power of our language, than of the 
 art of our orators. 
 
 DR. Tillotfon, who is frequently men- 
 tioned as having carried this fpecies of 
 eloquence to its highefr. perfe.clion, feems 
 to have had no fort of notion of rheto- 
 rical numbers j and may I venture, Cron- 
 ies, to add, without hazarding the impu- 
 tation of an affected Angularity, that I think 
 no man had ever lefs pretenfions to genuine 
 oratory, than this celebrated preacher. If 
 any thing could raife a flame of eloquence 
 in the breafl of an orator, there is no oc- 
 cafion upon which, one mould imagine, 
 it would be more likely to bre^k out, than 
 in celebrating departed merit : yet the two 
 fermons which he preached upon the 
 death of Dr. Gooclv and Dr. Whitchcot 
 are as cold and languid performances as 
 were ever, perhaps, produced upon fuch 
 
 an
 
 Ho LETTER XXIV. 
 
 an animating fubject. One cannot indeed 
 but regret that he, who abounds with fuch 
 noble and generous fentiments, mould 
 want the art of fetting them off with all 
 the advantage they defer ve ; that the Sub- 
 lime in morals mould not be attended 
 with a fuitable elevation of language. The 
 truth however is, his words are frequently 
 ill chofen, and almoft always ill placed ; 
 his periods are both tedious and unhar- 
 monious ; as his metaphors are generally 
 mean, and often ridiculous. It were eafy 
 to prodiwe numberlefs inftances in fup- 
 port of this aflertion. Thus in his fer- 
 mon preached before her prefent Majefty 
 when me was Princefs of Denmark, he 
 talks of fqueezing a parable, thru/ling re- 
 ligion by, driving a ftrict bargain with 
 God, JJmrking fiifts, &c. and fpeaking of 
 the day of judgment, he defcribes the 
 world as cracking about our ears. I can- 
 not however but acknowledge, in juftice 
 to the oratorical character of this moft 
 valuable prelate, that there is a noble fim- 
 plicity in fome few of his fermons; as 
 his excellent difcourfe on fincerity de- 
 
 ferves
 
 LETTER XXIV. m 
 
 ferves to be mentioned with particular ap- 
 plaufe. 
 
 BUT to fhew his deficiency in the arti- 
 cle I am confidering at prefent, the fol- 
 lowing ftriclure will be fufficient, among 
 many others that might be cited to the 
 fame purpofe. <c One might be apt," 
 fays he, " to think at firft view, that this 
 " parable was overdone, and wanted fome- 
 tl thing of a due decorum j it being hardly 
 " credible, that a man, after he had been fo 
 " mercifully and generoufly de^lt withal, 
 " as upon his humble requeft to have fo 
 " huge a debt fo freely forgiven, mould, 
 <c whilft the memory of fo much mercy 
 " was frefh upon him, even in the very 
 " next moment, handle his fellow-fervant, 
 " who had made the fame humble re- 
 " queft to him which he had done to his 
 " lord, with fo much roughnefs and cruel- 
 * ty, for fo inconliderable a fum." 
 
 THIS whole period (not to mention 
 other objections which might juftly be 
 jaifed againft it) is unmufical throughout ; 
 
 but
 
 ii2 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 but the concluding members, which ought 
 to have been particularly flowing, are moft 
 miferably looie and disjointed. If the de- 
 licacy of Tully's ear was fo exquifitely 
 refined, as not always to be fatisfied even 
 when he read Demofthenes ; how would it 
 have been offended at the harfhnefs and dif- 
 fonance of fo unharmonious a fentence ? 
 
 NOTHING, perhaps, throws our elo- 
 quence at a greater diftance from that of 
 the antients, than this Gothic arrange- 
 ment ; as thofe wonderful effects, which 
 fome times attended their elocution, were, 
 in all probability, chiefly owing to their 
 fldll in mufical concords. It was by the 
 charm of numbers united with the ftrength 
 of reafon, that Tully confounded the au- 
 dacious Catiline, and filenced the eloquent 
 Hortenfius. It was this that deprived Cu- 
 rio of all power of recolledion, when he 
 rofe up to oppofe that great matter of en- 
 chanting rhetorick : it was this, in a word, 
 made even Caefar himfelf tremble ; nay, 
 what is yet more extraordinary, made 
 Caefar alter his determined purpofe, and 
 
 acquit
 
 LETTER XXIV. 113 
 
 acquit the man he had refolved to con- 
 demn. 
 
 You will not fufpedt that I attribute 
 too much to the power of numerous 
 compofition, when you recollect the 
 inflance which Tully produces of its 
 wonderful effect. He informs us, you 
 may remember, in one of his rhetorical 
 treatifes, that he was himfelf a witnefs 
 of its influence as Carbo was once ha- 
 ranguing to the people. When that ora- 
 tor pronounced the following Sentence, 
 patris diftum fapiens, temeritas filii com* 
 profavff, it was aftoniming, fays he, to 
 obferve the general applaufe which fol- 
 lowed that harmonious clofe. A modern 
 ear, perhaps, would not be much affect- 
 ed upon this occafion; and indeed it is 
 more than probable, that we are ignorant 
 of the art of pronouncing that period with 
 its genuine emphafis and cadence. We 
 are certain, however, that the mufick of 
 it confifted in the dichoree with which it 
 is terminated} for Cicero himfelf adores us, 
 that if the final meafure had been chang- 
 I od,
 
 ii4 LETTER 
 
 ed, and the words placed in a different 
 order, their whole effed: would have 
 been abfolutely deftroyed. 
 
 THIS art was firft introduced among 
 the Greeks by Thrafymachus, though 
 fome of the admirers of Ifocrates attribu- 
 ted the invention to that orator. It does 
 not appear to have been obferved by the 
 Romans till near the times of Tully, and 
 even then it was by no means tmiverfally 
 received. The ancient and lefs numerous 
 manner of compofition, had ftill many 
 admirers, who were fuch enthufiafts to 
 antiquity as to adopt her very defects. A 
 diipofition of the fame kind, may, per- 
 haps, prevent it$ being received with us; 
 and while the archbifhop fhall maintain 
 his authority as an orator, it is not to be 
 expedled that any great advancement 
 will be made in this fpecies of eloquence. 
 That ftrength of underftanding likewife, 
 and folidity of reafon which is fo eminent- 
 ly our national charafteriftick, may add 
 fomething to the difficulty of reconciling 
 us to a ftudy of this kind ; as at firft 
 
 glance
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 glance it may feem to lead an orator 
 from his grand and principal aim, and 
 tempt him to make a facrifice of fenfe to 
 found. It muft be acknowledged indeed, 
 that in the times which fucceeded the 
 diflblution of the Roman republic, this 
 art was fo perverted from its true end as 
 to become the fingle ftudy of their enerva- 
 ted orators. Pliny the younger often com- 
 plains of this contemptible affectation ; and 
 the polite author of that elegant dialogue 
 which, with very little probability, is attri- 
 buted either to Tacitus or Quinctilian, 
 aflures us it was the ridiculous boaft of 
 certain orators in the time of the declen- 
 iion of genuine eloquence, that their ha- 
 rangues were capable of being fettomufick, 
 and fung upon the flage. But it muft be 
 remembered, that the true end of this art I 
 am recommending, is to aid, not to fuper- 
 fede reafon; that it is fo far from being 
 necefiarily effeminate, that it not only adds 
 grace but ftrength to the powers of per* 
 fuafion. For this purpofe Tully and 
 Quinctilian, thofe great mailers of nu- 
 merous competition > have laid it down 
 I 2 as
 
 u6 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 a fixed and invariable rule, that it mufl 
 never appear the effect of labour in the 
 orator; that the tuneful flow of his pe- 
 riods mufl always feem the cafual refult 
 of their difpofition ; and that it is the 
 higheft offence againfl the art to weaken 
 the expreflion, in order to give a more 
 mufical tone to the cadence. In fhort, 
 that no unmeaning words are to be thrown 
 in merely to fill up the requifite meafure, 
 but that they mufl flill rife in fenfe as 
 they improve in found. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 
 { "7) 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 To CL E o R A. 
 
 THOUGH it was not poffibk 
 for me to celebrate with you, as 
 ufual, that happy anniverfary which we 
 have fo many reafons to commemorate; 
 yet I could not fuffer fo joyful a feftival 
 to pafs by me without a thoufand tender 
 reflections. I took pleafure in tracing 
 back that ftream to its rife, which has 
 coloured all my fucceeding days with hap- 
 pinefs ; as my Cleora, perhaps, was at 
 that very inftant, running over in her 
 own mind, thofe many moments of 
 calm fatisfaftion which fhe has derived 
 from the fame fource. 
 
 MY heart was fo entirely poflefled with 
 the fentiments which this occafion fug- 
 gefted, that I found myfelf raifed into a 
 fort of poetical enthufiafm; and I could not 
 forbear expreffing in verfe, what I have of- 
 ten faid in profe of the dear author of my 
 I 3 moft
 
 n3 LETTER XXV. 
 
 moft valuable enjoyments. As I imagin- 
 ed Teraminta would by this time be with 
 you, I had a view to her harpfichord in 
 the compofition $ and I dcfire you would 
 let her know I hope me will {hew me 
 at my return, to what advantage the moft 
 ordinary numbers will appear when judi- 
 cioufly accompanied with a fine voice and 
 inflrument. 
 
 I MUST not forget to tell you, it was 
 in your favourite grove, which we have 
 fo often traverfed together, that I indulged 
 myfelf in thefe pleafing reveries; as it 
 was not, you are to fuppofe, without ha- 
 ving firfl invoked the Genius of the place, 
 and called upon the Mufes in due form, 
 that I broke out into the following rhap- 
 fody. 
 
 
 
 ODE for Music, 
 AIR I. 
 
 e tbrue has the circlingearth^fwift-pacing^ run 9 
 And thrice again^ around the Sun, 
 
 incefrftthewbite-rob"dprieftwithfacredbattd i 
 Sweet union I johi'd us hand in hand. 
 
 CHORUS,
 
 LETTER XXV. 119 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 All Heaven and ev^ry friendly poiv'r 
 sfpprov'd the vow, and blefi'd the hour. 
 
 RE C IT AT I V E. 
 
 What tho* infilencefacred Hymen trod, 
 Nor lyre proclaimed, nor garland crown 'd the 
 
 god: 
 
 What tho 9 nor feajl nor revel dance was there, 
 (Vain pomp of joy, tbe happy well may fpare /) 
 Tet love unfeign'd and confcious honour led 
 The fpotlefs virgin to the bridal bed, 
 Rich tho* defpoil'd of all her little ft ore : 
 For who Jh all feizefair virtue's better dow'r ? 
 
 AIR II. 
 
 Bleft with fenfe, with temper blejl^ 
 Wifdom o'er thy lips prefides -, 
 
 Virtue guards thy gerfrous breasJ, 
 Kindnefs all thy aclions guides. 
 
 AIR III. 
 
 Ev'ry home-felt blifs is mine, 
 Ev'ry matron-grace is thine ; 
 Chafte deportment, artlefs mien, 
 Converfe fweet, and heart ferene, 
 
 I 4. Sinks
 
 120 LETTER XXV. 
 
 Sinks my foul with gloomy pain ? 
 See Jhe /miles ! 'tis joy again : 
 Swells a paj/ion in my breaft ? 
 Harkjhe fpeaks ! and all is reft. 
 
 Oft as clouds my paths o'erfpread 
 (Doubtful where my fteps Jhould tread} 
 She with judgment's fteddy ray 
 Marks andfmooths the better way. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Chief among ft ten tboufandjhe* 
 Worthy, facred Hymen ! thee. 
 
 WHILE fuch are the fentiments which 
 I entertain of my Cleora, can I find my 
 felf obliged to be thus diftant from her, 
 without the higheft regret ? The truth, 
 believe me, is, though both the company 
 and the fcene wherein I am engaged, are 
 extremely agreeable, yet I find a vacancy 
 in my happinefs, which none but you 
 i can fill up. Surely thofe who have re- 
 commended thefe little reparations as ne- 
 ceflary to revive the languor of the mar- 
 ried ftate, have ill underftood its moft re- 
 fined
 
 BETTER XXV. 121 
 
 fined gratifications : there is no fatiety in 
 the mutual exchange of tender offices. 
 
 THERE feems to have been a time, 
 when a happinefs of this kind was con- 
 iidered as the higheft glory, as well as the 
 fupreme blefling of human life. I re- 
 member when I was in Italy to have feen 
 feveral conjugal infcriptions upon the fe- 
 pulchral monuments of antient Rome, 
 which, inftead of running out into a pom- 
 pous panegyric upon the virtues of the de- 
 ceafed, mentioned lingly, as the moft fig- 
 nificant of encomiums, how many years 
 the parties had lived together in full and 
 uninterrupted harmony. The Romans, 
 indeed, in this as in many other inftances, 
 afford the moft remarkable examples ; 
 and it is an obfervation of one of their 
 writers, that, notwithstanding divorces 
 might very eafily be obtained among 
 them, their republick had fubfifted many 
 centuries before there was a fingle inftance 
 of that privilege ever having been exerted. 
 Thus, my Cleora, you fee, however un- 
 falhionable I may appear in the prefent 
 
 gene-
 
 122 LETTER XXV. 
 
 generation, I might have been kept in 
 countenance in a former > and by thofe 
 too, who had as much true gallantry 
 and good fenfe as one ufually meets with 
 in this. But affections which are found- 
 ed in truth and nature ftand not in need 
 of any precedent to fupport them ; and 
 I efteem it my honour no lefs than my 
 happinefs, that I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( "3 ) 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 To P A L E M O N. 
 
 May 5, 1726, 
 
 WHILST you are engaged in tunn- 
 ing over the records of paft ages, 
 and tracing our conftitution from its rife 
 through all its feveral periods; I fome- 
 times amufe myfelf with reviewing cer- 
 tain annals of an humbler kind, and con- 
 lidering the various turns and revolutions 
 that have happened in the fentiments and 
 affections of thofe with whom I have 
 been moft connected. A hiftory of this 
 fort is not indeed fo ftriking as that which 
 exhibits kings and heroes to our view ; 
 but may it not be contemplated, Palemon, 
 with more private advantage ? 
 
 METHINKS we mould fcarce be fo 
 imbitter'd againft thofe who differ from 
 us in principle or practice, were we of- 
 tener to reflect how frequently we have 
 varied from ourfelves in both thofe arti- 
 cles.
 
 i2 4 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 cles. It was but yefterday that Lucius, 
 whom I once knew a very zealous advo- 
 cate for the moft controverted points of 
 faith, was arguing with equal warmth and 
 vehemence on the principles of Deifm ; as 
 Bathillus, who fet out in the world a cool 
 infidel, has lately drawn up one of the 
 moft plaufible defences of the myftick 
 devotees that, perhaps, was ever written. 
 The truth is, a man muft either have paf- 
 fed his whole life without reflecting, or 
 his thoughts muft have run in a very limit- 
 ed channel, who has not often experienced 
 many remarkable revolutions of mind. 
 
 THE fame kind of inconftancy is ob- 
 fervable in our purfuits of happinefs as 
 well as truth : thus our friend Curio, 
 whom we both remember in the former 
 part of his life, enamoured of every fair 
 face he met, and enjoying every woman 
 he could purchafe, has at laft collected 
 this diffufive flame into a fingle point, and 
 could not be tempted to commit an infi- 
 delity to his marriage vow, tho' a form as 
 beautiful as the Venus of Apelles was to 
 court his embrace: whilft Apemanthes, 
 i on
 
 LETTER XXVI. 125 
 
 on the other hand, who was the mod 
 fober and domeftick man I ever knew 
 till he loft his wife, commenced a rake 
 at five and forty, and is now for ever in a 
 tavern or a ftew. 
 
 WHO knows, Palemon, whether even 
 this humour of moralizing, which, as you, 
 often tell me, fo ftrongly marks my cha- 
 racter, may not wear out in time, and be 
 fucceeded by a brighter and more lively 
 vein ? Who knows, but I may court 
 again the miftrefs I have forfaken, and die 
 at laft in the arms of ambition ? Cleora, 
 at leaft, who frequently rallies me upon 
 that fever of my youth, aflures me I am 
 only in the intermiflion of a fit, which 
 will certainly return. But though there 
 may be fome excufe, perhaps, in exchang- 
 ing our follies or our errors, there can be 
 none in refuming thofe we have once 
 happily quitted : for furely he muft be a 
 very injudicious fportfman, who can be 
 tempted to beat over thofe fields again, 
 which have ever difappointed him of his 
 game. Farewell. I am, Sec. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 126 ] 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 May 8, 1726. 
 
 To be able to fupprefs my acknow- 
 ledgments of the pleafure I re- 
 ceived from your approbation, were to 
 mew that I do not deferve it : for is it 
 poffible to value the praife of the ju- 
 dicious as one ought, and yet be filent 
 under its influence ? I can with ftrict 
 truth fay of you, what a Greek poet did 
 of Plato, who reading his performance 
 to a circle where that great philofopher 
 was prefent, and finding himfelf deferted 
 at length by all the reft of the company 
 cried out, tc I will proceed neverthelefs, 
 " for Plato is himfelf an audience." 
 
 TRUE fame, indeed, is no more in the 
 gift than in the pofieflion of numbers, as 
 it is only in the difpofal of the wife and 
 the impartial. But if both thofe qualifi- 
 cations muft concur to give validity to a 
 
 vote
 
 LETTER XXVII. 127 
 
 vote of this kind, how little reafon has 
 an author to be either deprefled or elated 
 by general cenfure or applaufe ! 
 
 THE triumphs of genius are not like 
 thofe of antient heroifm, where the meaneft 
 captive made a part of the pomp, as well 
 as the nobleft. It is not the multitude 
 but the dignity of thofe that compofe her 
 followers, that can add any thing to her 
 real glory ; and a lingle attendant may 
 often render her more truly illuftrious, 
 than a whole train of common admirers. 
 I am fure at leaft, I have no ambition of 
 drawing after me vulgar acclamations ; 
 and whilft I have the happinefs to enjoy 
 your applaufe, I (hall always conlider 
 myfelf in poflefiion of the trueft fame. 
 Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 (128 ) 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 To EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 I AM much inclined to join with you 
 in thinking, that the Romans had no 
 peculiar word in their language, which 
 anfwers precifely to what we call good- 
 Jenfe in ours. For though prudentia in- 
 deed feems frequently ufcd by their beft 
 writers to exprefs that idea, yet it is not 
 confined to that fingle meaning, but is 
 often applied by them to fignify .Jkill in 
 any particular fcience. But good-fenfe is 
 fomething very diftinct from knowledge ; 
 and it is an inflance of the poverty of the 
 Latin language, that me is obliged to ufe 
 the fame word as a mark for two fuch 
 different ideas. 
 
 WERE I to explain what I underftand 
 by good-fenfe, I fhould call it right rea- 
 fon 5 but right reafon that arifes, not from 
 formal and logical deductions, but from 
 
 a fort
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 129 
 a fort of intuitive faculty of the foul, which 
 diftinguifhes by immediate perception ; a 
 kind of innate fagacity, that in many of its 
 properties feems very much to referable 
 inftinct, It would be improper therefore 
 to fay, that Sir Ifaac Newton mewed his 
 good-fenfe, by thofe amazing difcoveries 
 which he made in natural philofophy : the 
 operations of this gift of heaven are rather 
 inftantaneous, than the refult of any tedi- 
 ous procefs. Like Diomed after Minerva 
 had endued him with the power of difcern- 
 ing gods from mortals, the man of good 
 fenfe difcovers at once the truth of thofe ob- 
 jects he is moft concerned to diftinguim ; 
 and conducts himfelf with fuitable caution 
 and fecurity. 
 
 IT is for this reafon, poflibly, that this 
 quality of the mind is not fo often found 
 united with learning as one could wim : for 
 good-fenfe being accuilomed to receive 
 her difcoveries without labour or fiudy, 
 me cannot fo eafily wait for thofs truths, 
 which being placed at a distance, and ly- 
 ing concealed under numberlefs covers, 
 K require
 
 i 3 o LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 require much pains and application to 
 unfold. 
 
 BUT though good-fenfe is not in the 
 number, nor always, it muft be owned, 
 in the company of the fciences ; yet is it 
 (as the moft fenfible of poets has juftly ob- 
 ferved) 
 
 . fairly 'worth the feven. 
 
 Rectitude of underftanding is indeed the 
 moft ufeful as well as the moft noble of 
 human endowments,^ as it is the fove- 
 reign guide and director in every branch 
 of civil and focial intercourfe. 
 
 UPON whatever occafion this enlighten- 
 ing faculty is exerted, it is always fure to 
 act with diftinguimed eminence; but its 
 chief and peculiar province feems to lie in 
 the commerce of the world. Accordingly 
 we may obferve, that thofe who have con- 
 verfed more with men than with books, 
 whofe wifdom is derived rather from ex- 
 perience than contemplation, generally pof- 
 iefs this happy talent with fuperiour per- 
 fection :
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 131 
 
 fection : for good fenfe, though it cannot 
 be acquired, may be improved ; and the 
 world, I believe, will ever be found to 
 afford the moil kindly foil for its cultiva- 
 tion. 
 
 I KNOW not whether true good-fenfe 
 is not a more uncommon quality even 
 than true wit ; as there is nothing, perhaps, 
 more extraordinary than to meet with a 
 perfon whofe intire conduct and notions 
 are under the direction of this fupreme 
 guide. The fingle inftance at lead which 
 I could produce of its acting fteddily and 
 invariably throughout the whole of a cha- 
 racter, is that which Euphronius, I am 
 fure, would not allow me to mention: 
 at the fame time, perhaps, I am render- 
 ing my own pretenfions of this kind ex- 
 tremely queftionable, when I thus venture 
 to throw before you my fentiments upon 
 a fubject, of which you are universally 
 acknowledged fo perfect a mailer. I am, 
 &c. 
 
 K 2 LET-
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 To PH i D IP p u s. 
 
 oa. ii, 1718. 
 
 I AM by no means furprized that the 
 interview you have lately had with 
 Gleanthes, has given you a much lower 
 opinion of his abilities, than what you had 
 before conceived : and fmce it has raifecf 
 yourcuriofity to know my fentimentsof his 
 character j you (hall have them with all 
 that freedom you may juftly expert. 
 
 I HAVE always then considered Clean^ 
 thes as poflefled of the mofl extraordinary 
 talents : but his talents are of a kind, 
 which can onlybe exerted upon uncommon 
 occafions. They are formed for the greateft 
 depths of bufinefs and affairs ; but abfo- 
 lutely out of all iize for the {hallows of or- 
 dinary life. In circumftances that require 
 the moft profound reafonings, in inci- 
 dents that demand the moft penetrating- 
 politicks 5 there Cleanthes would mine 
 
 with
 
 LETTER XXIX. 133 
 
 with fupreme luftre. But view him in 
 any fituation inferiour to thefe ; place him 
 where he cannot raife admiration, and 
 he will moft probably fink into contempt. 
 Cleanthes, in mort, wants nothing but the 
 addition of certain minute accomplifh- 
 ments, to render him a finimed character : 
 but being wholly deftitute of thofe little 
 talents which are neceflkry to render a man 
 ufeful or agreeable in the daily commerce 
 of the world, thofe great abilities which 
 he pofTefles, lie unobferved or neglected. 
 
 HE often indeed gives one occafion 
 to reflect how neceflary it is to be mafter 
 of a fort of under-qualities, in order to iet 
 off and recommend thofe of a fuperiour 
 nature. To know how to defcend with 
 grace and eafe into ordinary occafions, and 
 to fall in with the lefs important parties 
 and purpofes of mankind, is an art of 
 more general influence, perhaps, than is 
 ufually imagined. 
 
 IF I were to form therefore a youth for 
 
 the wprld, I mould certainly endeavour 
 
 K 3 to
 
 134 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 to cultivate in him thefe fecondary quali- 
 fications i and train him up to an addrefs 
 in thofe lower arts, which render a man 
 agreeable in converfation, or ufeful to the 
 innocent pleafures and accommodations of 
 life. A general fkill and tafte of this kind 
 with moderate abilities will in moft in- 
 ftances, I believe, prove more fuccefsful in 
 the world, than a much higher degree of 
 capacity without them. I am, &c. 
 
 
 
 LET-
 
 [ '35 ] 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 To ORONTES. 
 
 July 2, 1721. 
 
 YOUR letter found me juft upon my 
 return from an excurfion into Berk- 
 fhire, where I had been paying a vifit to 
 a friend, who is drinking the waters at 
 Sunning-hill. In one of my morning 
 rides over that delightful country, I acci- 
 dentally paffed through a little village, 
 which afforded me much agreeable medi- 
 tation; as in times to come, perhaps, it 
 will be vifited by the lovers of the polite 
 arts, with as much veneration as Virgil's 
 tomb, or any other celebrated fpot of an^ 
 tiquity. The place I mean is Binfield, 
 where the poet to whom I am indebted 
 (in common with every reader of tafte) for 
 fb much exquifite entertainment, fpent 
 the earlieft part of his youth. I will not 
 fcruple, to confefs that I looked upon 
 the fcene where he planned fome of thofe 
 beautiful performances which firft recom- 
 K 4 mended
 
 136 LETTER XXX. 
 
 mended him to the notice of the world, 
 \vith a degree of enthufiafm j and could 
 not but conlider the ground as facred that 
 was impreft with the footfteps of a genius 
 that undoubtedly does the higheft honour 
 to our age and nation. 
 
 THE fituation of mind in which I 
 found myfelf upon this occafion, fuggefted 
 to my remembrance a paflage in Tully, 
 which I thought I never fo thoroughly 
 entered into the fpirit of before. That 
 noble author, in one of his philofophical 
 converfation-pieces, introduces his friend 
 Attic us as obferving the pleafing effect 
 which fcenes of this nature are wont to 
 have upon one's mind : Movemur enim 
 (fays that polite Roman) nefcio quo patio 
 loch ipfis, in quibus eorum quos diligimus 
 aut admlramur adfunt r cejligia. Me qui- 
 dem ipfez il!<z nojlrce Athence, non tarn ope- 
 ribiis magnifiris exqitijitijque antiquorum 
 artibus deleftant^ quam recordatione Jum- 
 morum virorum, ubi quifque habitare, ubi 
 fedcre, ubi dijputare fit folitus. 
 
 q / THUS
 
 LETTER XXX. 137 
 
 THUS, you fee, I could defend myfelf 
 by an example of great authority, were I 
 in danger upon this occafion of being ridi- 
 culed as a romantick vilionary. But I am 
 too well acquainted with the refined fenti- 
 ments of Orontes, to be under any appre- 
 henfion he will condemn the irnpreffions 
 I have here acknowledged. On the con- 
 trary, I have often heard you mention 
 with approbation, a circumftance of this 
 kind which is related of Silius Italicus. 
 The annual ceremonies which that poet 
 performed at Virgil's fepulchre, gave you 
 a more favourable opinion of his tafte, you 
 confefled, than any thing in his works was 
 able to raife. 
 
 IT is certain that fome of the greatest 
 names of antiquity have diftinguifhed 
 themfelves by the high reverence they 
 mewed to the poetical character. Scipio, 
 you may remember, deiired to be laid in 
 the fame tomb with Ennius ; and I am 
 inclined to pardon that fuccefsful madman 
 Alexander, many of his extravagancies, 
 for that generous regard he paid to the 
 
 memory
 
 i 3 S LETTER XXX. 
 
 memory of Pindar, at the facking of 
 Thebes. 
 
 TH ERE feems, indeed, to be fomething 
 in poetry, that raifes the pofleflbrs of that 
 very lingular talent, far higher in the efti- 
 mationof the world in general, than thofe 
 who excel in any other of the refined arts. 
 And accordingly we find that poets have 
 been diftinguimed by antiquity with the 
 moft remarkable honours. Thus Homer, 
 we' 1 are told, was deified at Smyrna ; as 
 the citizens of Mytelene ftamped the 
 image of Sappho upon their publick coin : 
 Anacreon received a folemn invitation to 
 fpend his days at Athens, and Hippar- 
 chus, the fon of Pififtratus, fitted out a 
 fplendid veflel in order to tranfport him 
 thither : and when Virgil came into the 
 theatre at Rome, the whole audience 
 rofe up and laluted him with the fame 
 refpecl as they would have paid to Au- 
 guflus himfelf. 
 
 PAINTING, one mould imagine, has 
 the" Taireft pretenfions of rivalling her 
 
 lifter-
 
 LETTER XXX. 139 
 
 filler-art in the number of admirers j and 
 yet, where Apelles is mentioned once, 
 Homer is celebrated a thoufand times. 
 Nor can this be accounted for by urging 
 that the works of the latter are ftill extant, 
 while thofe of the former have perifhed 
 long fmce : for is not Milton's Paradife 
 loft more univerfally efteemed, than Ra- 
 phael's cartoons ? 
 
 THE truth, I imagine, is, there are more 
 who are natural judges of the harmony of 
 numbers, than of the grace of proportions. 
 One meets with but few who have not, 
 in fome degree at lead, a tolerable ear ; but 
 a judicious eye is a far more uncommon 
 pofleflion. For as words are the univer- 
 fal mediums which all men employ in 
 order to convey their fentiments to each 
 other ; it feems a juft confequence that 
 they fliould be more generally formed for 
 relifhing and judging of performances in 
 that way : whereas thert of conveying i- 
 deas by means of lines and colours, lies more 
 out of the road of common ufe, and is 
 
 therefore
 
 LETTER XXX. ^ 
 
 therefore lefs adapted to the tafte of the 
 general run of mankind. 
 
 I H AZ A R D this obfervation, in the hopes 
 of drawing from you your fentiments upon 
 a fubjed, in which no man is more qua- 
 lified to decide ; as indeed it is to the con- 
 verfation of Orontes that I am indebted 
 for the difcovery of many refined delica- 
 cies in the imitative arts, which, without 
 his judicious afliftance, would have lain 
 concealed to me with other common ob- 
 fervers. Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XXXt 
 
 To CL E o R A. 
 
 Sept. t, 1719. 
 
 I LOOK upon every day wherein I have 
 not fome communication with my 
 Cleora, as a day loft ; and I take up my 
 pen every afternoon to write to you, as 
 regulary as I drink my tea, or perform any 
 the like important article of my life. 
 
 I FREQUENTLY blefs the happy art 
 that affords me a means of conveying my- 
 felf to you at this diftance, and by an eafy 
 kind of magic, thus tranfports me to your 
 parlour at a time when I could not gain ad- 
 mittance by any other method. Of all peo- 
 ple in the world indeed, none are more ob^ 
 liged to this paper- commerce than friends 
 and lovers. It is by this they elude in 
 fome degree the malevolence of fate, and 
 can enjoy an intercourfe with each other 
 though the Alps themfelves mould rife up 
 
 between
 
 142 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 between them. Even this imaginary par- 
 ticipation of your fociety is far more 
 plealing to me, than the real enjoyment 
 of any other converfation the whole world 
 could fupply. The truth is, I have loft ali 
 relifh for any but yours j and if I were 
 invited to an ailembly of all the wits of 
 the Auguftan age, or all the heroes that 
 Plutarch has celebrated, I ihould neither 
 have fpirits nor curiofity to be of the party. 
 Yet with all this indolence or indifference 
 about me, I would take a voyage as far as 
 the pole to fup with Cleora on a lettuce, 
 or only to hold the bowl while {he mixed 
 the fyllabub. Such happy evenings I once 
 knew: ah Cleora! will they never re- 
 turn ? Adieu. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 143 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 To EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 Aug. 8, 1711. - 
 
 I KNOW not in what difpofition of mind 
 this letter may find you ; but I am 
 fure you will not preferve your ufual 
 chearfulnefs of temper when I tell you, 
 that poor Hydafpes died laft night. 
 
 I WILL not at this time attempt to 
 offer that confolation to you, of which 
 I fland in fo much need myfelf. But may 
 it not fomething abate the anxiety of 
 our mutual grief, to reflect, that how- 
 ever confiderable our own lofs is, yet with 
 refpecl to himfelf, it fcarce deferves to be 
 lamented that he arrived fo much earlier 
 at the grave than his years and health 
 feemed to promife. For who, my friend, 
 that has any experience of the world, 
 would wifh to extend his duration to old 
 age ? what indeed is length of days but to 
 furvive all one's enjoyments, and, perhaps, 
 
 to
 
 144 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 to furvive even one's very felf ! I have fome- 
 where met with an Ancient infcription 
 founded upon this fentimcntj which in- 
 finitely pleafed me. It was fixed upon a 
 bath, and contained an imprecation in the 
 following terms, againft any one who 
 mould attempt to remove the building : 
 
 S. HOC. SVSTVLERIT. 
 AVT. IVSSERIT. VLTIMVS. 
 SVORVM. MORIATVR. 
 
 The thought is conceived with great deli- 
 cacy and juftnefs - } as there cannot, per- 
 haps, be a fharper calamity to a generous 
 mind, than to fee itfelf ftand fmgle amidft 
 the ruins of whatever rendered the world 
 moft defirable. 
 
 INSTANCES of the fort I am lamenting, 
 while the impreffions remain frefh upon 
 the mind, are fufficient to damp the gayeft 
 hopes and chill the warmeft ambition* 
 When one fees a perfon in the full bloom of 
 life, thus deftroyed by one fudden blaft, 
 one cannot but confider all the diftant 
 fchemes of mankind as the higheft folly. 
 
 IT
 
 LETTER XXXII. 145 
 
 IT is amazing indeed that a creature 
 fuch as man, with fo many memorials 
 around him of the fhortnefs of his duration, 
 and who cannot enfure to himfelf even 
 the next moment, mould yet plan defigns 
 which run far into futurity. The bu(i- 
 nefs however of life muft be carried on, 
 and it is neceflary for the purpofes of hu- 
 man affairs, that mankind fhould refolutely 
 act upon very precarious contingencies. 
 Too much reflection, therefore, is as in- 
 confiftent with the appointed meafures of 
 our ftation, as too little j and there cannot 
 be a lefs defirable turn of mind, than one 
 that is influenced by an over-refined phi- 
 lofophy. At leaft it is by confiderations of 
 this fort, that I endeavour to call off my 
 thoughts from purfuing too earneftly thofe 
 reafonings, which the occafion of this let- 
 ter is apt to fugged. This ufe, however, 
 one may juftly make of the prefent acci- 
 dent, that whilft it contrails the circle of 
 friendmip, it fhould render it fo much 
 the more valuable to us who yet walk 
 within its limits. Adieu. I am, &c, 
 
 L LET-
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 To CL Y T A NDE R. 
 
 Feb. 6, 1709. 
 
 Yo u will give me up, I doubt, as a 
 correfpondent of incorrigible in- 
 dolence, and tell me in the language of 
 Horace, 
 
 Sic rarofcribis, ut toto non quater anno 
 Membranam pofcas.* 
 
 You will reprove me, perhaps, for giving 
 fo little encouragement to the paper- ma- 
 nufacture, and remind me that I ought to 
 write oftener, if not for the fake of my 
 friend, at leaft to promote the trade of my 
 country. 
 
 I CAN draw up, you fee, a charge 
 againft myfelf with great eafe; but the 
 difficulty of the tafk would be how to an- 
 fwer it. There indeed I mufl honeftly 
 acknowledge myfelf at a lofs : and Truth 
 having net one word to plead in my be- 
 half,
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 147 
 half, I muft apply to Fittion, that ready 
 advocate of guilt, to fupport my caufe. 
 Imagine therefore that fome evil demon 
 had conveyed away my pen, or fome en- 
 vious enchantrefs had bound my hands. 
 Imagine that I have been deceived by fome 
 airy vilion, and fancied I had wrote letters 
 and received anfwers which in reality I 
 never did. Imagine in fhort whatever 
 you pleafe, but that I am in any degree 
 lefs than the higheft your &c. 
 
 L2 LET*
 
 ( i 4 8 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 To PHILOTES. 
 
 Aug. 3, 1725. 
 
 LE T it not be any difcouragement to 
 you, Philotes, that you have hi- 
 therto received but little fatisfaction from 
 ihofe noble fpeculations wherein you are 
 employed. " Truth (to ufe the expreffion 
 " of the excellent Mr. Wollafton) is the 
 <c offspring of unbroken meditations and 
 e of thoughts often revifedand corrected." 
 It requires indeed great patience and refo- 
 lution to diffipate that cloud of darknefs 
 which furrounds her j or (if you will allow 
 me to go to an old philofopher for my al- 
 lufion) to draw her up from that pro- 
 found well in which me lies concealed. 
 
 TH ERE is, however, fuch a general 
 connection in the operations of nature, 
 that the difcovery even of a fingle truth, 
 opens the way to numberlefs others ; and 
 \vhen once the mind has hit upon a right 
 
 fcent.
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 149 
 
 fcent, me cannot wholly purfue her en- 
 quiries in vain : 
 
 Canes ut montivagte perfepe ferdi 
 Naribus invent unt inteftas frunde quiet es t 
 Cumfemel inftiterunt veftigia cert a viai : 
 Sic aliud ex alto per te tute ipfe <videre 
 in rebus poteris^ ccecafque latebras 
 Jnpnuare omnes, et verum protrabere inde. 
 
 LUCRET, 
 
 IT muft be owned neverthelefs, that, 
 after having exerted all our fagacity and 
 indufhy, we (hall fcarce arrive at certainty 
 in many fpeculative truths. Providence 
 does not feem to have intended that we 
 fhould ever be in pofTeffion of dcmonftra- 
 tive knowledge, beyond a very limited 
 compafs j though at the fame time it can- 
 not be fuppofed, without the higheft in- 
 juftice to the benevolent author of our 
 natures, that he has left any necej/ary 
 truths without evident notes of diftin- 
 ftion. But while the powers of the mind 
 are thus limited in their extent, and greatly 
 fallible likewife in their operations, is it 
 L 3 not
 
 150 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 not amazing, Philotes," that mankind 
 fhould infult each other for difference in 
 opinion, and treat every notion that op- 
 pofes their own, with obloquy and con- 
 tempt ? Is it not amazing that a creature 
 with talents foprecarious and circumfcribed, 
 fhould ufurp that confidence which can 
 only belong to much fuperior beings, and 
 claim a deference which is due to per- 
 fection alone? Surely the greateft arro- 
 gance that ever entered into the human 
 heart, is that which not only pretends to 
 be pofitive itfelf in points wherein the beft 
 and the wifeft have difagreed, but looks 
 down with all the infolent fuperiority of 
 contemptuous pity on thofe, whofe impar- 
 tial reafonings have led them into oppo- 
 fite conclusions. 
 
 THERE is nothing, perhaps, more evi- 
 dent than that our intellectual faculties are 
 not formed by one general ftandard j and 
 confequently that diversity of opinion is 
 of the very eflence of our natures. It 
 feems probable that this difparity extends 
 .even to our fenfitive powers j and though 
 
 we
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 151 
 we agree indeed in giving the fame names 
 to certain vifible appearances, as white- 
 nefs, for inftance, to fnow $ yet it is by 
 no means demonstration, that the parti- 
 cular body which affedts us with .that fen- 
 fation, raifes the fame precife idea in any 
 two perfons who fhall happen to contem- 
 plate it together. Thus I have often 
 heard you mention your youngeft daugh- 
 ter as being the exacl: counter-part of 
 her mother: now me does not appear 
 to me to refemble her in any fingle fea- 
 ture. To what can this difagreement in 
 our judgments be owing, butto a difference 
 in the ftrufture of our organs of fight ? 
 yet as juftly, Philotes, might you difclaim 
 me for your friend, and look upon me 
 with contempt for not difcovering a fimi- 
 litude which appears fo evident to your 
 eyes j as any man can abufe or defpife 
 another for not apprehending the force of 
 that argument which carries conviction to 
 his own underftanding. 
 
 HAPPY had it been for the peace of 
 
 the world, if our maintainers of fyftems 
 
 L 4 either
 
 i$2 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 cither in religion or politicks, had con- 
 ducted their feveral debates with the full 
 impreflion of this truth upon their minds. 
 Genuine philofophy is ever, indeed, the 
 leaft dogmatical ; and I am always inclined 
 to fufpectthe force of that argument which 
 is obtruded with arrogance and fufficiency. 
 
 I AM wonderfully pleafed with a 
 paflage I met with the other day in 
 the preface to Mr. Boyle s philofo^hical 
 effays, and would recommend that cau- 
 tious fpirit by which he profeffes to have 
 conduded himfelf in his phyfical re- 
 fearches, as worthy the imitation of en- 
 quirers after truth of every kind. 
 
 " PERHAPS you will wonder, fays he, 
 C that in almoft every one of the follow- 
 e< ing efiays, I mould ufe fo often, perhaps, 
 ft it Jeems, 'tis not improbable, as argue a 
 < diffidence of the truth of the opinions 
 '" I incline to; and that I mould be fo 
 <e my of laying down principles, and 
 <e fometimes of fo much as venturing at 
 *' explications. But I muft freely confefs, 
 * f that having met with many things of 
 
 " which
 
 LETTER XXXIV. i^ 
 
 c< which I could give myfelf no one pro- 
 <c bable caufe, and fome things of which 
 <c feveral caufes may be affigned fo differ- 
 " ing, as not to agree in any thing, un- 
 " leis in their being all of them probable 
 <c enough ; I have often found fuch diffi- 
 <e cukies in fearching into the caufes and 
 <c manner of things, and I am fq fenfible 
 " of my own difability to furmount thofc 
 ct difficulties, that I dare fpeak confidently 
 " and positively of very few things, except 
 <c matter of fad. And when I venture to 
 <c deliver any thing by way of opinion, 
 " I mould, if it were not for mere fhame, 
 " fpeak yet more diffidently than I have 
 ct been wont to do. Nor have my 
 <c thoughts been altogether idle in form- 
 <c ing notions and attempting to devife hy- 
 <c pothefes. But I have hitherto (though 
 ct not always, yet not unfrequently) found 
 " that what pleafed me for a while, was 
 " foon after di (graced by fome farther or 
 <{ new experiment. And indeed, I have 
 " the lefs envied many (for I fay not all) 
 *' of thofe writers who have taken upon 
 
 " them
 
 154 LETTER XXXIV. 
 " them to deliver the caufes of things, 
 " and explicate the myfteries of nature, 
 " fince I have had opportunity to ob- 
 " ferve how many of their doctrines, 
 c after having been for a while applauded 
 <c and even admired, have afterwards 
 " been confuted by fome new phaenome- 
 " non in nature, which was either unknown 
 <e to fuch writers, or not fufficiently con- 
 " fidered by them." 
 
 IF pofitivenefs could become any man 
 in any point of mere fpeculation, it muft 
 haVe been this truly noble philofopher 
 when he was delivering the refult of his 
 ftudies in a fcience, wherein, by the 
 united confeffion of the whole world, he 
 fo eminently excelled. But he had too 
 much generality to prefcribe his own 
 notions as a meafure to the judgment of 
 others, and too much good fenfe to aflert 
 them with heat or confidence. 
 
 WH o E v E R , Philotes, purfues his fpe- 
 culations with this humble unarrogating 
 
 temper
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 temper of mind, and with the beft exer- 
 tion of thofe faculties which Providence 
 has affigned him, though he (hould 
 not find the conviction, never, furely, 
 can he fail of the reward of truth. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( IS* ) 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 To P A L E M O N. 
 
 May 28, 1729. 
 
 Iw R i T E this while Cleora is angling 
 by my fide, under the (hade of a 
 fpreading elm that hangs over the banks 
 of our river. A nightingale, mere har- 
 monious even than Strada's, is ferenading 
 us from a hawthorn bum which fmiles 
 with all the gaiety of youth and beauty ; 
 while 
 
 - gentle gales y 
 
 Fanning their odorifrcus wings, dijpenfe 
 Native perfumes, and wbifper whence they ft ok 
 Thofe balmy fpoih MILT. 
 
 WHILST I am thus enjoying the inno- 
 cent luxury of this vernal delight, I look 
 back upon thofe fcenes of turbulence 
 wherein I was once engaged, with more 
 than ordinary diftafte; and defpife my 
 felf for ever having entertained fo mean a 
 thought as to be rich and great. One of 
 our monarchs ufed to fay, {C that he 
 
 " looked
 
 LETTER XXXV. 157 
 f e looked upon thofe to be the happieft 
 ? c men in the nation, whofe fortune had 
 * e placed them in the country, above a 
 " high-conftable and below the trouble 
 <e of a juftice of peace." It is in a medi- 
 ocrity of this happy kind that I here pafs 
 my life : with a fortune far above the ne- 
 ceffity of engaging in the drudgery of bufi- 
 nefs; and withdelires much too humble to 
 "have any relifh for the fplendid baits of 
 ambition. 
 
 You muft not, however, imagine that 
 I affect the ftoick, or pretend to have era- 
 dicated all my paffions : the fum of my 
 philofophy amounts to no more than to 
 cherifh none but fuch as I may eafily and 
 innocently gratify, and to banifh all the 
 reft as fo many bold intruders upon my 
 repofe. I endeavour to pradtife the maxim 
 of a French poet, by coniidering every 
 thing that is not within my pofTeffion as 
 not worth having : 
 
 four m'affurer k feu! bien 
 *%ue Fen doit eftimer au monde, 
 font ce queje n'ai fas^je k comptepour Hen.
 
 158 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 Is it not poffible, Palemon, to reconcile 
 you to thefe unafpiring fentiments, and to 
 lower your flight to the humble level of 
 genuine happinefs ? Let me at leaft prevail 
 with you to fpare a day or two from the 
 certamina divitiarum (as Horace I think 
 calls them) from thofe fplendid contefts in 
 which you are engaged, jufl to take a view 
 of the fort of life we lead in the country. 
 If there is any thing wanting to complete 
 the happinefs I here find, it is that you 
 are fo feldom a witnefs to it. Adieu* 
 lam, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 159) 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 To Eu PHRONIUS. 
 
 July3, 17 '4- 
 
 TH E beauties of ftyle feem to be ge- 
 nerally confidered as below the at- 
 tention both of an author and a reader. 
 I know not therefore, whether I may ven- 
 ture to acknowledge, that among the num- 
 berlefs graces of your late performance, I 
 particularly admired that ftrength and ele- 
 gance with which you have enforced and 
 adorned the nobleft fentiments. 
 
 THERE was a time however (and it 
 was a period of the trueft refinements) 
 when an excellence of this kind was 
 efteemed in the number of the politeft 
 accomplishments ; as it was the ambition 
 of fome of the greateft names of antiquity, 
 to diftinguifh themfelves in the improve- 
 ments of their native tongue. Julius Csefar, 
 who was not only the greateft hero, but 
 the fineft gentleman that ever, perhaps, 
 
 appeared
 
 160 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 appeared in the world, was dciirous of 
 adding this talent to his other moft (birring 
 endowments : and we are told he ftudied 
 the language of his country with much 
 application ; as we are fure he pofleffed it 
 in its higheft elegance. What a lof?, 
 Euphronius, is it to the literary world, 
 that the treatife which he wrote upon this 
 fubjec~t, is perilhed with many other va- 
 luable works of that age? But though we 
 are deprived of the benefit of his obferva- 
 tions, we are happily not without an in- 
 ftance of their effects ; and his own me- 
 moirs will ever remain as the beft and 
 brighteft exemplar not only of true gene- 
 ralibip, but of fine writing. He pub- 
 limed them, indeed, only as materials for 
 the ufe of thofe who mould be difpofed to 
 enlarge upon that remarkable period of the 
 Roman itory; yet the purity and grace- 
 fulnefs of his ftyle were fuch, that no ju- 
 dicious writer durft attempt to touch the 
 fubjedl after him. 
 
 HAVING produced fo illusions an in- 
 ftance in favour of an art, for which I 
 
 have
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 161 
 
 /jave ventured to admire you ; it would 
 be impertinent to add a fecond, were I to 
 cite a lefs authority than that of the im- 
 mortal Tully. This noble author, in his 
 dialogue concerning the celebrated Roman 
 orators, frequently mentions it as a very 
 high encomium that they poflefled the ele- 
 gance of their native language; and intro- 
 duces Brutus as declaring, that he mould 
 prefer the honour of being efteemcd the 
 great matter and improver of the Roman 
 eloquence, even to the g T ory of many tri- 
 umphs. 
 
 But to add reafon to precedent, and to 
 view this aft in its ufe as well as its di- 
 gnity ; will it not be allowed of fome im- 
 portance when it is confidered, that elo- 
 quence is one of the moft confiderabte 
 auxiliaries of truth ? Nothing indeed con- 
 tributes more to fubdue the mind to the 
 force of reafon, than her being fupported 
 by the powerful affiftance of mafculine 
 and vigorous oratory. As on the con- 
 trary the moft legitimate arguments may 
 be difappointed of that fuccefs they de- 
 M ferve,
 
 162 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 ferve, by being attended with a fpiritle& 
 and enfeebled expreffion. Accordingly, 
 that moft elegant of writers, the inimitable 
 Mr. Addifon obferves, in one of his late 
 eflays, that " there is as much difference 
 " between comprehending a thought 
 " cloathed in Cicero's language and that 
 " of an ordinary writer, as between fee- 
 " ing an object by the light of a taper or 
 " the light of the fun." 
 
 IT is furely then a very ftrange con- 
 ceit of the celebrated Malbranche, who 
 feems to think the pleafure which arifes 
 from perufing a well written piece, is of 
 the criminal kind, and has its fource in 
 the weaknefs and effeminacy of the hu- 
 man heart. A man muft have a very 
 uncommon feverity of temper indeed, who 
 can find any thing to condemn in adding 
 charms to truth, and gaming the heart by 
 captivating the ear ; in uniting rofes with 
 the thorns of fcience, and joining pleafure 
 with inftruction. 
 
 THE truth is, the mind is delighted 
 with a fine ftyle, upon the fame principle 
 
 that
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 163 
 
 that it prefers regularity to confufion, and 
 beauty to deformity. A tafte of this fort 
 is indeed fo far from being a mark of any 
 depravity of our nature, that I mould ra- 
 ther confider it as an evidence, in fome 
 degree, of the moral rectitude of its con- 
 flitution, as it is a proof of its retain- 
 ing fome relim at leaft of harmony and 
 order. 
 
 ONE might be apt, indeed, to fufped 
 that certain writers amongft us had con- 
 iidered all beauties of this fort, in the fame 
 gloomy view with Malbranche : or at 
 leaft that they avoided every refinement 
 in ftyle, as unworthy a lover of truth and 
 philofophy. Their fentiments are funk 
 by the loweft expreffions, and feem con- 
 demned to the firfl curfe, of creeping up-* 
 on the ground all the days of their life. 
 Others, on the contrary, miftake pomp 
 for dignity ; and, in order to raife their 
 expreffions above vulgar language, lift them 
 up beyond common appreheniions, efteem- 
 ing it (one mould imagine) a mark of their 
 genius, that it requires fome ingenuity to 
 M 2 pene-
 
 164 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 penetrate their meaning. But how few 
 writers, like Euphronius, know to hit that 
 true medium which lies between thofe 
 diftant extremes ? How feldom do we 
 meet with an author, whofe expreffions, 
 like thofe of my friend, are glowing but 
 not glaring, whofe metaphors are natural 
 but not common, whofe periods are har- 
 monious but not poetical j in a word, 
 whofe fentiments are well fet, and (hewn 
 to the underflanding in their trued and 
 moft advantageous lufhe. I am &c. 
 
 v. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( 165 ) 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 To ORONTES. 
 
 Aug. 5, 1716. 
 
 I INTENDED to have clofed with your 
 propofal, and pafled a few weeks 
 with you at * * * but Tome unlucky af- 
 fairs have intervened, which will engage 
 me, I fear, the remaining part of this 
 feafon. 
 
 AMONG the amufements which the 
 fcene you are in affords, I mould have 
 efleemed the convention of Timoclea 
 as a very principal entertainment ; and as 
 I know you are fond of fingular chara- 
 cters, I recommend that lady to your 
 acquaintance. 
 
 TIMOCLEA was once a beauty; but 
 ill health, and worfe fortune, have ruin- 
 ed thofe charms, which time would yet 
 have fpared. However, what has fpoil- 
 ed her for a miftrefs, has improved her 
 M 3 as
 
 166 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 as a companion j and {he is far more 
 convertible now, as (he has much lefs 
 beauty, than when I ufed to fee her once 
 a week triumphing in the drawing-room. 
 For as few women (whatever they may 
 pretend) will value themfelves upon their 
 minds, while they can gain admirers by 
 their perfons, Timoclea never thought of 
 charming by her wit, till (he had no 
 chance of making conquefls by her beau-? 
 ty. She has feen a good deal of the 
 world, and of the beft company in it ; 
 as it is from thence (he has derived whaN 
 ever knowledge (he poffeffes. You can-^ 
 not, indeed, flatter her more, than by 
 feeming to confider her as fond of read- 
 ing and retirement. But the truth is, na- 
 ture formed her for the joys of fociety } 
 and fhe is never fo thoroughly pleafed as 
 when (he has a circle round her. 
 
 IT is upon thofe occaiions {he appears 
 to full advantage 5 as I never knew any 
 perfon who was endued with the talents 
 for converfation to an higher degree. If 
 I were difpofed to write the characters of 
 
 the
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 167 
 
 the age, Timoclea is the firft perfon in the 
 world to whofe affiftance I mould apply. 
 She has the happieft art of marking out 
 the diftinguifhing caft of her acquaint- 
 ance, that I ever met with ; and I have 
 known her, in an afternoon's converfation, 
 paint the manners with greater delicacy 
 of judgment and ftrength of colouring, 
 than is to be found either in Theophra- 
 ftus or Bruyere. 
 
 SHE has an inexhauftible fund of wit ; 
 but if I may venture to diftinguim, where 
 one knows not even how to define, I 
 fhould rather fay, it is brilliant than 
 ftrong. This talent renders her the ter- 
 rour of all her female acquaintance ; yet 
 {he never facrificed the abfent, or morti- 
 fied the prefent, merely for the fake of 
 difplaying the force of her fatyr ; if any 
 feel its fting, it is thofe only who firft 
 provoke it. Still however it mufl be 
 owned, that her refentments are frequent- 
 ly without juft foundation, and almoft 
 always beyond meafure. But tho* me 
 has much warmth, (he has great genero- 
 M 4 fity
 
 i68 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 fity in her temper ; and if flie had one 
 virtue more, her heart would have as 
 many admirers as her underftanding : yet 
 with all her faults fhe is worth your 
 knowing. 
 
 AND now having given you this gene- 
 ral plan of the (trength and weaknefs of 
 the place, I leave you to make your ap-r 
 preaches as you (hall lee proper. I am, 
 &e. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ i6 9 ] 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 i 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 I LOOK upon verbal criticifm, as it is 
 generally exercifed, to be no better 
 than a fort of learned legerdemain, by 
 which the fenfe or nonfenfe of a paflage 
 is artfully convey'd away, and fome other 
 introduced in its ftead, as beft fuits with 
 the purpofe of the profound juggler. The 
 diilertation you recommended to my per- 
 ufal has but ferved to confirm me in thefe 
 fentiments : for though I admired the in- 
 genuity of the artift, I could not but 
 greatly fufpect the juftnefs of an art, which 
 can thus prefs any author into the fervice 
 of any hypothefis. 
 
 I HAVE fometimes amufed myfelf with 
 confidering the entertainment it would 
 afford to thofe antients, whofe works have 
 had the honour to be attended by com- 
 mentators, could they rife out of their fe- 
 pulchres, and perufe fome of thofe curi- 
 ous
 
 i ;o LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 ous conjectures, that have been raifed up- 
 on their refpedlive compofitions. Were 
 Horace, for inftance, to read over only a 
 few of thofe numberlefs reftorers of his 
 text, and expofitors of his meaning, that 
 have infefted the republick of letters -, what 
 a fund of pleafantry might he extract for 
 a fatyr on critical erudition ? how many 
 harmlefs words would he fee cruelly ba- 
 nimed from their rightful pofleffions, 
 merely becaufe they happened to difturb 
 fome unmerciful philologift ? On the 
 other hand, he would undoubtedly fmile 
 at that penetrating fagacity, which has 
 difcovered meanings which never entered 
 into his thoughts, and found out concealed 
 allufions in his moft plain and artlefs ex- 
 preffions. 
 
 ONE could not, I think, fet the gene- 
 ral abfurdity of critical conje&ures in a 
 ftronger light, than by applying them to 
 fomething parallel in our own writers. If 
 the Englifh tongue mould ever become 
 a dead language, and our beft authors be 
 raifed into the rank of claffick writers ; 
 
 much
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 171 
 
 much of the force and propriety of their 
 expreflions, efpecially of fuch as turned 
 upon humour, or alluded to any manners 
 peculiar to the age, would inevitably be 
 loft, or, at beft, would be extremely doubt- 
 ful. How would it puzzle, for inftance, 
 future commentators to explain Swift's 
 epigram upon our mufical contefts? I 
 imagine one might find them defcanting 
 upon that little humourous fally of our En- 
 glilh Rabelais in fome fuch manner as this : 
 
 EPIGRAM on the Feuds between 
 Handel and Bononcini. 
 
 Strange all this difference Jhould be 
 'Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee ! 
 
 NOTES of various Authors. 
 
 " Iweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee] I am 
 " perfuaded the Poet gave it Twiddle- 
 c drum and Twiddle key. To twiddle fig* 
 " nifies to make a certain ridiculous mo- 
 " tion with the fingers : what word there- 
 " fore could be more proper to exprefs 
 " this epigram-writer's contempt of the 
 
 " per-
 
 172 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 " performances of thofe muficians, and of 
 <f the folly of his contemporaries in run- 
 " ning into parties upon fo abfurd an oc- 
 " cation ? The drum was a certain mar- 
 " tial inftrument ufed in thofe times; as 
 " the word key is a technical term m mu- 
 c< fick, importing the fundamental note 
 " which regulates the whole compofition. 
 " It means alfo thofe little pieces of wood 
 tl which the fingers ftrike agajnft in an 
 " organ, &c. in order to make the in- 
 <c Arument found. The alteration here 
 " propofed is fo obvious and natural that 
 <e I am furprized none of the commenta- 
 " tors have hit upon it before. L. C. D. 
 
 " Tveedle-dumm&'fweedle-dee.} Thefe 
 " words have greatly embarrafs'd the cri- 
 <c ticks, who are extremely expert in find- 
 <{ ing a difficulty where there is none. 
 ' Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee are 
 ' mofl undoubtedly the names of the two 
 <c muficians : and though they are ftyled 
 " by different appellations in the title of 
 " this Epigram, yet that is no objection , 
 for it is well known that perfons in 
 t( thofe times Had more fir-names than 
 
 one %
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. i 73 
 
 <f one. S. M. Abfurd ! here is evidently 
 " an error of the prefs, for there is not a 
 " fingle hint in all antiquity of the family 
 " of the Tweeedle-dums and Tiveedle-dees. 
 " The learned S. M. therefore nodded 
 <c when he undertook to explain this paf- 
 " fage. The fenfe will be very plain if 
 " we read with a fmall Alteration, Whee- 
 " die-Torn and Waddle-THE. THE be- 
 <c ing a known contraction for Theodorei 
 " as Tom is for Thomas. Waddle and 
 " Wheedle are like wife claffical words. 
 " Thus Pope : 
 
 " As when a dab-chick waddles thro 9 the copfc, 
 
 Dun. ii. 59. 
 
 44 Obliquely waddling to the mark in view. 
 
 Ib. ii. 150. 
 
 And though indeed I do not recollect 
 Cl to have met with the verb to wheedle, 
 <e in any pure author, yet it is plain that 
 " it was in ufe, fince we find the par- 
 <c ticiple 'wheedling in an antient tragedy 
 " compofed about thefe times : 
 
 " A laugh-
 
 i 7 4 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 " A laughing, toying, wheedling, whim?' ring 
 
 the 
 
 " Will make him amble on a goffifs meffage^ 
 *' And hold the dijlaffwitb a hand as patient 
 " As e'er did Hercules. JANE SHORE. 
 
 <c Thomas and Theodore therefore were 
 " moft certainly the Chriftian names of 
 <e thefe two muficians, to the contradli- 
 " ons of which the words 'wheedle and 
 " waddle are added as charaderiftical of 
 < the perfons and dilpofitions of the men ; 
 " the former implying that Tom was a 
 " mean fycophant, and the latter that 
 " THE had an aukward and ridiculous 
 "gait." F.J.Z. 
 
 I KNOW not, Orontes, how I fhall 
 cfcape your fatyr, for venturing to be thus 
 free with a fcience which is fometimes, I 
 know, admitted into a mare of your me- 
 ditations : yet tell me honeftly, is not 
 this a faithful fpecimen of the fpirit and 
 talents of the general clafs of critic-wri- 
 ters ? Far am I, however, from thinking 
 irreverently of thofe ufeful members of 
 
 the
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 175 
 
 the republick of letters, who with mo- 
 defty and proper diffidence, have offered 
 their affiftance in throwing a light upon 
 obfcure paffages in antient authors. Even 
 when this fpirit breaks out in its higheft 
 pride and petulance of reformation, if it 
 confines itfelf to claffical enquiries, I can 
 be contented with treating it only as an 
 object of ridicule : but I muft confefs, 
 when I find it, with an affured and confi- 
 dent air, fupporting religious or political 
 doctrines upon the very uncertain foun- 
 dation of various readings, forced analo- 
 gies, and precarious conjectures, it is not 
 without fome difficulty I can fupprefs my 
 indignation. Farewell. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( i 7 6 J 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 To PHILOTES. 
 
 Tunbridge, Aug. 4, 1703. 
 
 I THINK I promifed you a letter frorrv 
 this place : yet I have nothing more 
 material to write than that I got fafe hi- 
 ther. To any other man I mould make 
 an apology for troubling him with an in- 
 formation fo trivial ; but among true 
 friends there is nothing indifferent, and 
 what would feem of no confequence to 
 others, has in intercourfes of this nature 
 its weight and value. A by-ftander, unac- 
 quainted with play, may fancy, perhaps, 
 that the counters are of no more worth 
 than they appear ; but thofe who are en- 
 gaged in the game, know they are to be 
 confidered at a higher rate. You fee I 
 draw my allufions from the fcene be- 
 fore me ; a propriety which the cri- 
 ticks, I think, upon fome occafions recom- 
 mend. 
 
 I I HAV*
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 177 
 
 I HAVE often wondered what odd whim 
 could nrft induce the healthy to follow 
 the fick into places of this fort, and lay the 
 fcene of their diverfions amidft the moft 
 wretched part of our fpecies : one mould 
 imagine an hofpital the laft fpot in the 
 world, to which thofe who are in purfuit 
 of pleafure would think of reporting. 
 However, fo it is ; and by this means the 
 company here furnilh out a tragi- comedy 
 of the moft fingular kind. While fome 
 are literally dying, others are expiring in 
 metaphor; and in one fcene you are prefen- 
 ted with the real, and in another with the 
 fantaftical pains of mankind. An ignorant 
 fpectator might be apt to fufpect, that 
 each party was endeavouring to qualify 
 itfelf for acting in the oppofite character ; 
 for the infirm cannot labour more earneltly 
 to recover the ftrength they have loft, than 
 the robuft to diffipate that which they 
 poffefs. Thus the difeafed pafs not more 
 anxious nights in their beds, than the 
 healthy at the hazard-tables ; and I fre- 
 quently fee a game at ombre occafion as 
 fevere difquietudes as a fit of the gout. 
 N As
 
 178 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 As for myfelf, I perform a fort of middle 
 part in this motley drama, and am fome- 
 times difpofed to join with the invalids in 
 envying the healthy, and fometimes have 
 fpirits enough to mix with the gay in pity- 
 ing the fplenetick, 
 
 TH E truth is, I have found fome bene- 
 fit by the waters ; but I mall not be fo 
 ianguine as to pronounce with certainty of 
 their effects, 'till I fee how they enable 
 me to pafs through the approaching win- 
 ter. That feafon, you know, is the time 
 of trial with me ; and if I get over the 
 next with more eafe than the laft, I mall 
 think myfelf obliged to celebrate the nymph 
 of thefe fprings, in grateful fonnet. 
 
 BUT let times and feafons operate as 
 they may, there is one part of me over 
 which they will have no power j and in all 
 the changes of this uncertain conftitution, 
 my heart will ever continue fixed and 
 firmly yours. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 ( '79 ) 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 To CLE o R A. 
 
 Sept. 5. 1705. 
 
 SHALL! own to you that I cannot 
 repent of an offence which occailoned 
 fo agreeable a reproof? Acenfure convey- 
 ed in fuch genteel terms, charms more than 
 corrects, and tempts rather than reforms. 
 I am fure at leaft, though I mould regret 
 the crime, I mail always admire the re- 
 buke, and long to kifs the hand that 
 chafteneth in fo pleafing a manner. How- 
 ever, I {hall for the future flrictly pur- 
 fue your orders, and have fent you in 
 this fecond parcel no other books than 
 what my own library fupplied. A- 
 mong thefe you will find a collection 
 of letters : I do not recommend them to 
 you, having never read them; nor indeed 
 am I acquainted with their characters j 
 but they prefented themfelves to my hands 
 as I was tumbling over fome others, fo I 
 threw them in with the reft and gave them 
 N 2 a chance
 
 i8o L E T T E R XL. 
 
 a chance of adding to your amufement. 
 I wi(h I could meet with any thing that 
 had even the leaft probability of contri- 
 buting to mine. But, 
 
 -forlorne of (bee, 
 
 Wither Jkall I betake me, where fub/jft? 
 
 MILT. 
 
 TIME that reconciles one to moft things, 
 has not been able to render your abfence 
 in any degree lefs uneafy to me. I may 
 rather be faid to haunt the houfe in which 
 I live, than to make one of the family. I 
 walk in and out of the rooms like a reft- 
 lefs fpright : for I never fpeak till I am 
 fpoken to, and then generally anfwer, like 
 Banco's ghoft in Macbeth, with a deep 
 iigh and a nod. Thus abftracted from 
 every thing about me, I am yet quite 
 ruined for a hermit, and find no more 
 fatisfadion in retirement, than you do in 
 the company of that everlafiing babbler you 
 mention. 
 
 How often do I wi(h myfelf in poflef- 
 fion of that famous ring you were men- 
 tioning
 
 L E T T E R XL. 181 
 
 tioning the other day, which had the pro- 
 perty of rendering thofe who wore it in- 
 vifible. I would rather be matter of this 
 wonderful unique^ than of the kingdom 
 which Gyges gained by means of it ; as I 
 might then attend you, like your guardian 
 angel, without cenfure or obftruclion. 
 How agreeable would it be to break out 
 upon you, like jiEneas from his cloud, 
 where you leaft expected me j and join 
 again the dear companion of my fortunes, 
 in fpight of that relentlefs power who has 
 raifed fo many cruel florins to feparate us ! 
 But whilft I employed this extraordinary 
 ring to thefe and a thoufand other pleai- 
 ing purpofes, you would have nothing to 
 apprehend from my being inverted with 
 fuch an invifible faculty. That innocence 
 which guards and adorns my Cleora in her 
 moft gay and publick hours, attends her, 
 I well know, in 'her moft private and re- 
 tired ones ; and fhe who always ads as un- 
 der the eye of the beft of Beings, has no- 
 thing to fear from the fecret infpeclion of 
 any mortal. Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 N 7 LET-
 
 ( 182) 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 To ORONTES. 
 
 May 6, 1715. 
 
 LE T others conlider you for thofc 
 ample poffeffiona you enjoy : fuffer 
 me to fay, that it is your application of 
 them alone which renders either them 
 or you valuable in my estimation. Your 
 fplendid roofs and elegant accommoda- 
 tions I can view without the leaft emo- 
 tion of envy : but when I obferve you 
 in the full power of exerting the noble pur- 
 pofes of your exalted generality it is then, 
 I confefs, I am apt to reflect, with fome 
 regret, on the humbler fupplies of my 
 own more limited finances. Nibil habet 
 (to fpeak of you in the fame language that 
 the firfl of orators addrefled the greateft 
 of emperors) fortuna tua majus, quam ut 
 poffiis ; nee natura rnehits, quam ut velis 
 J'ervare quamplurimos. To be able to 
 foften the calamities of mankind, and in- 
 ipire gladnefs into a heart opprefied with 
 misfortunes, is indeed the nobleft privi- 
 lege
 
 LETTER XLI. 183 
 
 lege of an enlarged fortune : but to exer- 
 .cife that privilege in all its generous re- 
 finements, is an inftance of the moft 
 uncommon elegance both of temper and 
 understanding. 
 
 IN the ordinary difpenfations of bounty, 
 little addrefs is required : but when it is 
 to be applied to thofe of a fuperior rank 
 and more elevated mind, there is as much 
 chanty discovered in the manner as in the 
 meafure of one's benevolence. It is fome- 
 thing extremely mortifying to a well- form- 
 ed fpirit, to fee itfelf confidered as an object 
 of companion 5 as it is the part of im- 
 proved humanity to humour this honeft 
 pride in our nature, and to relieve the 
 wants without offending the delicacy of 
 the diftreffed. 
 
 I HAVE feen charity (if charity it might 
 be called) infult with an air of pity, and 
 wound at the fame time that it healed. 
 But I have feen too the higheft munifi- 
 cence difpenfed with the moft refined ten- 
 dernefs, and a bounty conferred with as 
 N 4 much
 
 i4 BETTER XLI. 
 
 much addrefs as the moft artful would 
 employ in (eliciting one. Suffer me, Oron- 
 tes, upon fcjris fingle occafion, to gratify 
 my own inclinations in violence to yours, 
 by pointing out the particular inftance I 
 have in my view ; and allow me, at the 
 fame time to join my acknowledgments, 
 with thofe of the unfortunate perfon I re- 
 commended to your protection, for the 
 generous affiftance you lately afforded him. 
 lam, &c, 
 
 LET-
 
 tETTER XLII. 
 
 To EUPHRONJUS. 
 
 Sept. 5, 1707. 
 
 IF you received the firft account of my 
 lofs from other hands than mine; you 
 rnufl impute it to the dejedion of mind 
 into which that accident threw me. The 
 blow indeed, fell with too much feverity, 
 to leave me capable of recollecting myfelf 
 enough to write to you immediately ; as 
 there cannot, perhaps, be a greater mock 
 to a breaft of any fenfibility, th u n to fee 
 its earlieft and mod valuable connections 
 irreparably broken : than to find itfelf for 
 ever torn from the firft and moft endeared 
 object of its higheft veneration. At leaft, 
 the affection and efteem I bore to that ex- 
 cellent parent were founded upon fo many 
 and fuch uncommon motives, that his 
 death has given me occafion to lament not 
 only a mod tender father, but a moft va- 
 luable friend. 
 
 THAT I can no longer enjoy the be- 
 nefit of his animating example, is one 
 
 among
 
 i86 LETTER XLII. 
 
 among the many aggravating circumftanccs 
 of my affliction -, and I often apply to my- 
 felf, what an excellent antient has faid 
 upon a fimilar occalion, Vereor ne nunc 
 negligentim vivam. There is nothing, in 
 truth, puts us fo much upon our guard, 
 as to aft under the conftant infpoflion of 
 one whofe virtues, as well as years, have 
 rendered venerable. Never, indeed, did 
 the dignity of goodnefs appear more irre- 
 fiftible in any man : Yet there was fome- 
 thing at the fame time fo gentle in his man- 
 ners, fuch an innocency and chearfulnefs 
 in his converfation, that he was as fure to 
 gain affection as to infpire reverence. 
 
 IT has been obferved (and I think, 
 by Mr. Cowley) " That a man in much 
 " bufinefs muft either make himfelf a 
 " knave, or the world will make him a 
 " fool." If there is any truth in this ob- 
 fervation, it is not, however, without an 
 exception. My father was early engaged 
 in the great fcenes of bufinefs, where he 
 continued almoft to his very laft hour; 
 yet he preferved his integrity firm and un- 
 broken,
 
 LETTER XLII. 187 
 
 broken, through all thofe powerful aflaults 
 which he muft neceffarily have encoun-^ 
 tered in fo long a courfe of action. 
 
 IF it were juftice, indeed, to his other 
 virtues, to fingle out any particular one as 
 ihining with fuperiour luftre to the reft, 
 I mould point to his honefty as the brighteft 
 part of his character. But the truth is, the 
 whole tenour of his conduct was one uni- 
 form exercife of every moral quality that 
 can adorn and exalt human nature. To 
 defend the injured, to relieve the indigent, 
 to protect the diftrefled, was the chief 
 end and aim of all his endeavours ; and 
 his principal motive both for engaging and 
 perfevering in his employments was, to 
 enable himfelf more abundantly to gratify 
 fo glorious an ambition. 
 
 No man had a higher relifh of the 
 pleafures of retired and contemplative life; 
 as none was more qualified to enter into 
 thofe calm fcenes with greater eafe and dig- 
 nity. He had nothing to make him defirous 
 of flying from the reflections of his own 
 mind, nor any paffions which his mode- 
 rate
 
 'i88 LETTER LXII. 
 
 rate patrimony would not have been more 
 than fufficient to have gratified. But to live 
 for himfelf only, was not confident with his 
 generous and enlarged fentiments. It was 
 a fpirit of benevolence that led him into 
 the active fcenes of the world j which 
 upon any other principle he would either 
 never have entered, or foon have renounced. 
 And it was that godlike fpirit which con- 
 dueled and fupported him through his ufe- 
 ful progrefs, to the honour and intereft of 
 his family and friends, and to the benefit 
 of every creature, that could poffibly be 
 comprehended within the extenfive circle 
 of his beneficence. 
 
 I WELL know, my dear Euphronius, 
 the high regard you pay to every cha- 
 racter of merit in general, and the efteem 
 in which you held this moft valuable man 
 in particular. I am fure, therefore, you 
 would not forgive me were I to make 
 an apology for leaving with you this private 
 monument of my .veneration for a parent, 
 whofe leaft and lowed claim to my gra- 
 titude and efteem is, that I am indebted to 
 him for my birth. Adieu. I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 To PALAMEDES. 
 
 IAM particularly pleafed with a paiTage 
 in Homer, wherein Jupiter is repre- 
 fented as taking off his eyes, with a fort 
 of fatiety, from the horrour of the field of 
 battle, and relieving himfelf with a view 
 of the Laeftrigons * ; a people famous, it 
 feems, for their innocence and fimplicity 
 of manners. It is in order to practife the 
 fame kind of experiment, and give myfelf 
 a fhort remiffion from that fcene of turbu- 
 
 * This Appears to be a flip of our author's memory: 
 it was not the Laeftrigons upon whom Jupiter turned his 
 eyes, in the pafiage alluded to, but the Hippomolgi: 
 
 IL. xiii. 4. 
 
 Wen turtid tlofe eyes 
 
 To ivhere the far-fanid Hippomofgian ftrajs, 
 
 Renown d for jujlice and for length of days ; 
 
 Thrice-bappy race ! that, innocent of blood> 
 
 From milk innoxious fee k their Jimple food. POPE. 
 
 lence
 
 I 9 o LETTER XLIII. 
 
 lence and contention in which I am en- 
 gaged, that I now turn my thoughts on 
 you, Palamedes, whofe temperance and 
 moderation may well juftify me in calling 
 a modern La^flrigon. 
 
 I FORGET which of the antients it is 
 that recommends this method of thinking 
 over the virtues of one's acquaintance : but 
 I am fure it is fometimes neceflary to do 
 fo, in order to keep one's felf in humour with 
 our fpecies, and preferve the fpirit of phi- 
 lanthropy from being intirely extinguished. 
 Thofe who frequent the ambitious walks 
 of life, are apt to take their eflimate 
 of mankind from the fmall part of it 
 that lies before them, and confider the 
 reft of the world as practifing in different 
 and under-parts, the fame treachery and 
 diffimulation which marks out the cha- 
 racters of their fuperiors. It is difficult 
 indeed to preferve the mind from falling 
 into a general contempt of our race, whilft 
 one is converfant with the worft part of it. 
 I labour, however, as much as poffible 
 to guard againft that ungenerous difpofi- 
 
 tion
 
 LETTER XLIII. 191 
 
 tion ; as nothing is fo apt to kill thofe feed 8 
 of benevolence which every man mould 
 endeavour to cultivate in his breaft. 
 
 ILL, furely therefore, have thofe wits 
 enployed their talents, who have made 
 our fpecies the object of their fatyr, and 
 affected to fubdue the vanity by derogating 
 from the virtues of the human heart. But 
 it will be found, I believe, upon an im- 
 partial examination, that there is more 
 folly than malice in our natures, and that 
 mankind oftner act wrong through igno- 
 rance than defign. Perhaps the true mea- 
 fure of human merit, is neither to be taken 
 from the hiftories of former times nor 
 from what pafles in the more finking 
 fcenes of the prefeht generation. The 
 greateft virtues have, probably, been ever 
 the moft obfcure; and I am perfuaded 
 in all ages of the world more genuine he- 
 roifm has been overlooked and unknown, 
 than either recorded or obferved. That 
 aHquid divinum, as Tuliy calls it, that ce- 
 leftial fpark which every man, who coolly 
 contemplates his own mind, may difcover 
 
 within
 
 i 9 2 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 within him, operates where we leaft look 
 for it, and often raifes the nobleft pro- 
 ductions of virtue in the {hade and ob- 
 fcurity of life. 
 
 BUT it is time to quit fpeculation for 
 a&ion, and return to the common affairs 
 of the world. I mail certainly do fo 
 with more advantage, by keeping Pala- 
 medes ftill in my view ; as I (hall enter 
 into the interefts of mankind with more 
 alacrity, by thus confidering the virtues 
 of his honeft heart as lefs fingular than I 
 am fometimes inclined to fuppofe. Adieu. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 THE' 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To PHILOTES: 
 LETTER 
 I. f\ N bis travels Page j 
 
 To CLYTANDER: 
 II. On the veneration paid to the an- 
 tients-. 5 _- 
 
 To HORTENSIUS: 
 
 III. Returning him thanks for a prefent 
 of brawn : with an account of the au- 
 thor s manner of celebrating the feaft. 9 - 
 
 To PHYDIPPUS: 
 
 IV. Reflections upon friend/hip. 10- 
 
 To TlMOCLEA. 
 
 V. A panegyric upon riddles. 16 
 
 To PHILOTES: 
 
 VI. Written in aft of the Jpleen. 22- 
 
 To CLEORA : 
 
 VII. Rallying her tajle for nrjjlical and ' 
 romance writers. 25 
 
 O To
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To P i L o T E s : 
 LETTER 
 
 VIII. Againjl cruelty to infeSts. 28 ~ 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 IX. Upon bis marriage. 33 
 
 To HORTENSIUS: 
 X- Refeftions upon the paffion of fame. 35 _ 
 To EUPHRONIUS: 
 
 XI. Obfervations upon feme Paflages in Mr. 
 Pope's tranjlation of the Iliad. 4;- 
 
 -To CLEORA: 
 
 XII. 53 - 
 . To PA LEMON : 
 
 XIII. dgainjl filicide . 57 _ 
 
 To CLYTANDER: 
 XIV". Concerning his intentions to marry.-' 
 The character of Aniafia. 64 - 
 
 To PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 XV. Rejieftions upon the fentiments of the 
 antients concerning friend/hip. 63 _ 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 XVI. Upon grape in writing. j$ _ 
 
 To
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To PALAMEDES: 
 LETTER. 
 
 XVII. - 79^ 
 
 To P A L E M O N : 
 
 XVIII. The character of Hortenfia. 81 - 
 
 To HORTENSIUS: 
 
 XIX. Concerning f elf-reverence. 88 - 
 
 To CLYTANDER : 
 
 XX. Reafons for the author s retirement : 
 a defer iption of the fit nation of his 
 vi//a. 91 
 
 To HORTENSIUS: 
 
 XXI. Concerning the great variety of cha- 
 racters among mankind. The fingular 
 cbaratter of Stilotes. * 96 - 
 
 To PHILOTES: 
 
 XXII. - - - - - 10 1 
 
 To PALAMEDES: 
 
 XXIII. The character ofMezentius, 103 _ 
 
 To O R o N T E s j 
 
 XXIV. Concerning the neglefl of ora- 
 torical numbers. Obfervations upon 
 Dr. Tillotfonsjiyle. The care of the 
 
 O 2 antient
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 antient orators with refpecJ to nume- 
 rous compofition, Jlated and recom- 
 mended. 107 ' 
 To CLEORA : 
 
 XXV. Written jix years after the au- 
 thor's marriage with her j an ode 
 upon their wedding-day, 117 
 
 To PALEMON : 
 
 XXVI. Reflexions upon the various re- 
 volutions in the mind of man with 
 refpeft both to his jpec-ulative notions, 
 and his plans of happinefs. 123 
 
 To HORTENSIUS: 
 
 XXVII. Reflections upon fame, with re- 
 fpeft to the fmall number of thofe 
 whofe approbation can bt confidered 
 as conferring it. 126 ~ 
 
 To EUPHRO-NI u-s: . 
 
 XXVIII. Upon goodfcnfe. 128 - 
 To PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 XXIX. The character of ' C leant he s. 132 ' 
 
 To O R o N T E s : 
 
 XXX. Reflections upon feeing Mr. Pope's 
 houfe at Binfield. 13 5 - 
 
 To
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To CLEORA: 
 
 LETTER 
 
 XXXI. - 141 
 
 To. EUPHRONIUS: 
 .XXXII. Occafjpned by the Judden death 
 of a Jr tend. 143 
 
 To CLYTANDER: 
 XXXXIII. 146 
 
 To PH ILOTES: 
 
 XXXIV. Concerning the difficulties that 
 attend our fpeculative enquiries. Mr. 
 Boyle* s moderation inflamed and re- 
 commended. 148 
 
 To PALEMON : 
 
 XXXV. An account of the author s hap- 
 pinefs in bis retirement. 156 ~ 
 
 To EUPHRONIUS : 
 
 XXXVI. Reflections upon ftyle. 159 , 
 
 To O R o N T E s : 
 
 XXXVII. rhe character offtmoclea. 165^ 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 XXXVIII. Concerning the art of verbal 
 criticifm : a jpecimen of it applied 
 to an epigram of S'wift. 169- 
 
 To
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To PHILOTES : 
 LETTER 
 XXXIX: Front Tunbridge. 176 
 
 To CLEORA: 
 XL. 179 
 
 To O R o N T E s : 
 
 XLI. Concerning delicacy in relieving the 
 dijlre/ed. 182 
 
 , To EUPHRONIUS : 
 
 XLIL On the death and character of the 
 author' s father. 185 
 
 To PALAMEDES : 
 XLIII. Refections on the moral character 
 of mankind. 189
 
 Errors of the Prefs. 
 
 Page 20. Line 12. for poffimus read pofcimus. 
 
 24. Line 16. for one felf read one's felf, 
 
 28. Line 14. for very read every. 
 
 29. Line 7. for farther read no farther. 
 94. Lin. 4,5. /0r ornaments read ornament. 
 
 3I4- Line 16. /or it raw? its.
 
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