University of California • Berkeley From the book collection of BERTRAND H. BRONSON bequeathed by him or donated by his wife Mildred S. Bronson i.5^.';»-%' ■•; .,'' A" i <-.tt^1'^'' ■■ %s?-MM ,.'1 :': &^?i'" p'^lt vX^i •'«^^ Sk 1m- V? • ••/. /^miX J^'-'ZJ^' 7c ■»^. '^^ ,/ *? THE PURSUITS OF LITERATURE. A SATIRICAL POEM IN FOUR DIALOGUES. WITH NOTES, xai (piX But * It reminds me of a book written by Sir John Birkenhead in But of Gallic principles, sentiments, and resolu- tions we must hold another language. Formerly indeed it was esteemed a crime to scatter abroad ambiguous expressions among the people. But now u'hen all governments and establishments are shaking around us, we are to be told with effrontery and impunity in public papers which pass from hand to hand, through cities, towns, and villages, that, where there is no despotism there is no usur- pation, and that the authority of an Usurper, while h^ conforms to laws of Ms own making, is legal. What is this but to overthrow the principle of all just obedience, and the basis of every established government, and to invite the subjects of every king- dom / in the time of the civil wars, entitled, *' the Childre^t's- •• Dictionary, being an exact collection of all new words lor,n *' since November 3, 1640, in speeches, prayers, and sermons, as **■ well those that signify something, as those that signify nothing,^* In the last edition of the French Academy's Dictionary, just printed at Paris, there is an Appendix, sometiiing like the Children's Dictionary, of the '* Sans-Cuio/tiJf) But surely the most powerful light should still continue to be thrown on her secret caverns and skulking places ; for the sleeping and the inactive will be her prey. We have reason still to watch over ^ur safety, while so many of the original principles of Jacobinism are not only unretracted but solemnly avowed, and openly renewed at stated periods^ by men who would be thought worthy of high political trust, and of their Country's best confidence and consideration. Idle compliments however, timid compromising, fatal half-measures, and the false politeness of submission to names must not once be heard of at such a time, when the powers of darkness, ignof*" lance, and sophistry are set in array against us. We are not fallen : we may yet travel on in the greatness of our imparted strength, since we know {k) Stat. Theb. L. lo. t x'lx ] 111 what and in whom we have trusted. We must also preserve the dignity cf Learning in all her original brightness and integrity, for zve are not in the ruins of ovK Ktii^'^S', but in the walks of Literature, of true philosophy, and of unshrinking eloquence, we have yet something^ more to she'V than the Lantern of Demosthenes. In conclusion, T would observe tliat the fol- lowing or similar words, or the substance of them, are recorded to have been delivered in Parliament a few years before the Rebellion in 1745. I shali apply the spirit of them to the enemies of ike principles of this work on the Pursuits of Literature, but not to the enemies of the work itself. The words are these : * " The heat which has offended *' them is the ardour of conviction, aiid that zeal ^* for the service of my country, which neither •' hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I ^^ will not sit unconcerned when (public) Liberty *' is threatened or invaded j nor look in silence on *^ (intended) public Robbery. I will exert mv *' endeavours. * Dr. Johnson's PvUafnentary Debates in 1741, voI« i. p. 307, ^^ endeavours, at whatever hazard, to drag, ttie " aggressors to justice, whoever may protect them, *' or zvliGCver may (ultimately) partake of the *' NATIONAL PLUNDER r* It is remarkable that the Speaker was William 1 Pitt, and the Reporter, Samuel Johnson. But whether the words were ever spoken, and faithfully reported, or only ingeniously invented and applied, the substance of them I adopt and publicly profess as my unequivocal sentiments, as far as they can be applicable to any endeavours, or to any labours of * • mine. With the same firmness thereforey and with the fame unabated^ deliberate confidence of intention ■with which I first submitted this volume to the public, I again respectfully offer it to the serious regard , and impartial judgment of the British Nation. Doctrine vulc Vindex Genio monita alta Brit/.nno, Dec, 1800. TO [ xxi ] TO THE READER. ^apoa UcapvacCH TON AAHAON ANAPA srjtvr' /x^^wiv ! » I RECOMMEND the foUowing anecdote to sagacious persons, who know all authors (and me among the rest) by their style, or by any other certain or infallible sign. The anecdote is known to those who are accurately versed in literary history. Julius Scaliger wrote and published an oration,' without his name, against the celebrated tract by Erasmus, called Ciceronianus. Erasmus, having b perused * Soph. iEd, T. V. 481. [ xxii ] perused it, Immediately, (and upon conviction as he thought,) fixed upon Hieronimus Aleander, who was afterwards made an Archbishop by Leo X^ and a Cardinal by Pope Paul the Third, as the author of the whole, or of the greatest part of it, by signs which he conceived to be certain and infallible. These signs were strong indeed s his phraseology, his manner of speaking, his peculiar diction, his habits of life, and even the very intercourse which Erasmus had daily with him. Nay, his genius and disposition were so evident, that Aleander could not be more intimately known to himself, than he was to Erasmus. Yet Erasmus w^as mistaken entirely. His judgment and sagacity will r.ot be questioned; but hear his own w^ords, for on such an occasion, as the present, they are particularly remarkable. ^^ Ex phrasi, ex ore, ex locutione, aliisque complu-, • '' ribuB, mihi persuasi hoc opus, maxima saltern *' ex parte, esse Hieronimi Aleandri. Nam mihi '' Genius illius ex domestico convictu adeo cognitus \ per- [ xxiii ] *^ perspectusque est, ut ipse sibi non possit esse *' notior!!" (a) . ^ I recommend this anecdote to the consideration ©f those persons who from random conjecture, without any knowledge, -or any proof v/hatscever, continue to ascribe the following work to men, who are all equally guiltless of my labours, and all equally ignorant of my intentions. (I?) But f believe, ft («) Erasmi Epist. 370. c. 1755. Op. Fo!. Ed. Opt. Luge?. {h) There is a pleasant passage in one of Pascal's Provincial Letters, in which the Author and a Father Confessor hold a conference concerning some accredited Casuists, and the new raorality. The Dialogue is smart and sprightly, and easily adapted to the Prcbahility Corps on the present occasion. The Confessor says ; " Nous laissons les Peres a ceux qui traitent la Positive] nous ne citons dans nos ecrits que les noaveaux Casuistes'. — * Mais qui sont ces nouveaux Auteurs/' — Ce sont des gens bien habiles et bien ceUbres (i. e. persons whose names were scarce ever heard of) C'est Villalobos, Conink, Lamas, Achokier, Dealkoser, Boba5illa, &c, &c, &c. — *' O raon Pere, iui-disje tout effraye, tous ces gens la ecoient-ils Chretiens ?" Comment Chretiens? me repondit il. Ne vous disois-je, quece sont les seuls par qui nous couverrons, &c. Celui fne ft fitie-y (said Pascal,) mais je ne lui temoignai rien.' Lcttres Pioviuciales, L. 5. [ xxiv 3 believe, no gentleman to whom it either has been, or may hereafter be, hberally or illiberally attri- buted, will so far forget his character, as to appro- priate my composition to himself. " The Town's enquiring yet ;'' and will enquire, as I think, for a long time. Factorum est copia nobis; Hac fit quod Ro?}i^ vivimus : ilia domus, IIl^ mihi sedes, illic mea carpitur setas, I beg leave to subjoin my opinion, that if the Poem on the Pursuits of Literature is once care- fully read without reference to the notes, the plan, th€ connection, and the manner of it will be per- ceived. I may add, that The First Dialogue was frst published in May 1 794, the Second and Third in June 1796, and the Fourth in July 1797. AN INTRO- AN INTRODUCTORY LETTER(^) TO A FRIEND. On the general Subject of the following Poem on THE Pursuits of Literature. Nel cerchio accolto, ' Mormoio potentissime parole; Giro tie volte all' Oriente il volto, Trc volte ai regni ove dechina il Sole; *' Onde tanto indugiar? forse attendeth ** VOCI ANCOR PIU POTENTI, O PIU SECRETE?" Tasso G. L. Cant. 13. Dear Sir, j\ S the publick have thought proper to pay some atten- tion to the following Poem on the Pursuits of Literature, the parts of which I have presented to their consideration, and for their use, at various intervals ; I have now col- lected the whole into one volume, after such a revision and {a) This Letter was first prefixed to the Fifth Edition of the P. of L. collected for the first time into one volume and published in January 1 79S. A L a J and correction as appeared to be necessary. It gives ms pleasure to address this introduction to you. As a mark of my friendship, I trust it is docisivo I always thought with Junius, that a printed paper receives very little consi- deration from the most respectable signature; but I would not be understood to insinuate, with that great and consummate writer, that my name v/ould carry any weight with it. I must own however, that I smile at the vario;is authors to whom my work has been ascribed. Doctors, Dra- matic Writers, Royal Treasurers, Divines, Orators, Law- yers, Greek Professors, School-masters, Bath guides, and Physicians, have all been named with confidence. Some- times the whole is written by one manj at others, ten or perhaps twenty are concerned in it. Criticisms and dissenting conjectures on the subject are alike the object of my ineffable contempt. More sagacity must be exerted than the Ardelios of the day are masters of, who are so kind as to think of me, who most certainly never think of them. It is however my resolution, that not one of these idle conjectures shall e-ver be extended to you, " Quid de me alii loquantur, ipsi videant; sed •* loquentur tamen." (^} It is a voice; nothing more. Pru- dence indeed suggests a caution which I unwillingly adopt, and restrains the eagerness I feci for the display of jy^^Mr virtues and of your talents. But those virtues must at present be left to the testimony of your own conscience, and your talents within those limits of exertion, in which an undiscerning spirit has too long suffered them to be confined. The bird of day however always looks to the sun. In regard to writing In general, the public expect neither tlunks, nor gratitude from an author for their fa- vourabie {^) Cic. Somn. Scip, Sect. 7. L 3 ] favourable reception of his work. If it is unworthy of their notice, it is left to perish with the poetry of Knight, or the prose of Lauderdale. '* I cannot indeed affect to believe, " that Nature has wholly disqualified me for all literary ** pursuits i" [c] yet I would not trouble the publlck, or myself, with this new edition of my Poem, if I did not think it agreeable to their wishes. I am satisfied with the attention wliich has been given to it ; and when I have commanded a silence within my own breast, I think a still small voice may whisper those gratulations, from which an honest man may best derive comfort from the past, and motives for future action. The wayward nature of the time, and the paramount necessity of securing to this kingdom her political and religious existence, and the rights of society, have stimulated, me, as you well know, to offer this endeavour to preserve them, by a solemn, laborious, and disinterested appeal to my countrymen. It is designed to conduct them through the labyrinths of literature; to convince them of the manner in which the understanding and affections are either bewildered, darkened, enervated, or degraded; and to point out the fatal paths which would lead us all either to final destruction, or to complicated misery. I am not yet so old as to say, with the desponding bard, " Vitae estavidus, quisquis non vult, mundo secum PEREUNTE, mori." Yet I see, with sorrow and fear, the political constitutions of Europe falling around us, or crumbling into dust, under the tyrannical Republic of France. She commenced with an imperious injunction A 2 to (<:) The words of Mr. Gibbon. Posthumous Works, 4to. vol. I. page 34, U 4 J io the surrounding nations not to Interpose in her domes- tic government, while at the very same moment, shs herself was interfering and disturbing them all. She has indeed terminated in the change or overthrow of each of them, but of this kingdom. Frenchmen were always brutal, when unrestrained. With their own domestic misery and wickedness they neVer were satisfied. In these latter days they have been neighing after the constitution of their neighbours, in their lawless lustihood. They first deflower the purity of the struggling or half-consenting victims, and then with their ruffian daggers they stifle at once the voice, and the remem- brance of the pollution. Such are ti^eir abominations ; such ^re their orgies of blood and lust. And when their cruelty is at last wearied out and exhausted, and demands a pause, they call it clemency. France had been long looking for that, \wh\ch her philosophers had taught her to term, the parallelism OF THE sword; and she has found it: That sword has indeed swept down not only every royal crest, and every head which raised itself above the plain of their equality. Such is their quaint and ferocious language : and now, when Englishmen are to be warned against the introduction of the horrid system, no appeal is to be made to the common feelings and passions of our nature, (this it seems, is declamation;) no scenes of terror, and cruelty, and desolation are to be laid before them, but dry reasoning and mathematical calculations of the quantum of misery, plunder, and blood necessary for the production, and establishment in England, of this blessed revolutionary government. We [ 5 ] We will not however be insulted ?ir\A fooled out of ©ur existence, or of our understanding. ** Our sentence •* is for open war," till we can be safe. England is still pre- pared, and alert, and vigorous, and opulent, and generous, and bold, and undismayed: She has not cast away her confidence. Among the bands and associated energies of England I also, in my degree and very limited capa- city, will struggle for the principle of her life. I feel, in common with the wise and the reflecting, that the consti- tution of Great Britain, even with it's real or apparent defects, is worthy of continuance, and I hope of perpe- tuity. Our ancestors in 1688 once adopted the words of the aged Patriarch, " We have blessed it, yea, and it shall ** be blessed.'* In this one response, I trust we shall all be orthodox; and with one heart and voice condemn all the heresies of Gallic policy, in the words of the Alexandrian Liturgy of old ; Xwv uipsa-icov yiaraiXvoov rx (ppvxyixocrac, [d) Government and Literature are now more than ever intimately connected ; and the history of the last thirty years proves it beyond a controversy. Still it is difficult to rouse the attention of men, and to persuade them of the fact ; but I have attempted it. I thought it just and right to set before them excellence opposed to excellence, {&) as well as error contrasted to error. In the present change of man- ners, opinions, government, and learning, ycJu may rc- niember I gave it as my opinion, in which, after some reflection, you concurred, that a variation is now required A 3 in {d) Liturgia Sancti Gregoril Alexandiina. Liturg. Oriental. CoUect. Vol. I. p. 107. Edit. Paris. 1716. {e) AyaSn; ayoc^ois avTcJcra^etv. Dion. Halicarn. ad Cne, Pompeium de Platone Epist. p. 757. Sect. i. Vol. 6. Ed^ Heilke, 1777, [ 6 ] in the mode of conducting satirical writing, t mean, by calling in the reciprocal assistance of poetry and prose in the same work, for the great end; if it is designed for general perusal, and an extended application. I ihink this work is the first attempt ot the kind, in the sense which I propose. Tlvoyuaas OTi'^cpri JTIPOTOX rv svcTTiyi, (f) I know not whether I am mistaken, but as it appears tome, the power of legitimate Satae thus extended, and strengthened with the rampart of prose, and fu'ly under- stood, is the best, if not the only lit-rrary support left. I am sure it cannot be construed into an hired service. It has nothing in it of professional labour ; and as to inte- rested views of personal profit or prcunotion, how can they be consistent with it? It is as true in our tune as in that of Dryden, (I will give you his own words,) that *' the *' common libellers of the day are^ as free from the impu- ** tation of wit, as of morality." Satire has another tone and another character. All publick men, however dis- tinguished, must ill their turns submit to it, if necessary to the welfare of the state. The altar and the throne, the minister and the statesman, may feel and own its influ- ence. I would express myself with diffidence of any Satirist; yet of the office itself, and of its higher functions, I would speak as becomes its dignity and the excellency of it's ancient character. Magnijicabo apostolatiun vicum. In my opinion, the office of a Satirist is by no means pleasant or desirable, but in times like the present it is peculiarly necessary. It is indeed difficult to exercise the talent, without an appearance of severity in the character and dispostion. Even playfulness and hum.our are called by (/) Adapted from the Anthologia. p. 393, Ed, Bi odaei, Fol. [ 7 J by other appellations. Learning is ostentation, censure is malignity, and reprehension is abuse. There remains a more formidable objection. On a first and partial view, it might deter any man from engaging in Satire; at least any man who feels himself (and who does not feel himself, if he examines his own heart ?) unworthy and wretched before the unerring judgment. It is said to be incom- patible, if not with the profession, yet certainly with the practice, of Christianity. I am sure, if that is true, the praise of wit, of learning, or of talents, is nothing worth. If private malignity is the motive, it is essentially contrary to the precepts and practice of that religion; it cannot be defended for a moment. But if Satire is an instrument, and a powerful instrument, to maintain and enforce pub- lic order, morality, religion, literature, and good man- ners, in those cases, in which the pulpit and the courts of law can seldom interfere, and rarely with effect; the conmuinity may authorize and approve it. The authorized instruments of lawful war are lawful. Satire never can have effect, without a personal application. It must come home to the bosoms, and often to the offences of particular men. It never has it's full force, if the author of it is known or stands forth ; for the un- worthiness of any man lessens the strength of his objec- tions. This is a full answer to those who require the name of a satirical poet. What I have written, is delivered to the public in this spirit. If I had any private end or malignity in any part of it, I would have burned the work- with indignation before it should have appeared. I make no idle appeal to you, or to any man, for the truth of my assertion ; it is enough for me to feel that I speak truth in the sincerity of my heart. If I am believed, I am believed. A 4 But C 8 3 But I may ask with confidence; Is there, in this work on the Piirsuits of Literature, any sentence or any senti- ment, by which the mind may be depraved, degraded, or corrupted ? Is there a principle of classical criticism in any part of it, which is not just and defensible by the greatest masters of ancient and legitimate composition? Is there any passage which panders to the vitiated taste, or to the polluted affections and passions of bad men? On the contrary ; Are not the heart and understanding fortified unto virtue, and exalted into independence ? Is there any idle, depreciating declamation against the real and solid advantages of birth, fortune, learning, wit, ta- lents, and high station? Is there any doctrine, which a teacher of morality, I mean Christian morality, might re- fuse to sanction ? A moralist and a divine have not the same office with the satirist; personality is foreign to them. But it is not sufficiently attended to, or believed, that when the understanding is enervated, when it once loses, what one of the Fathers (g) calls emphatically, the Tm (ppovTiasMs (jyvvBv v.cci 7r£7ri/xv(Wptsvov, when that solid, tena- cious power of the mind is dissolved, it is then open ta all manner of deception, and to the impressions of sophistry in literature, government, philosophy, and leligion. On this account, many works and many actions must be con- sidered, which are wholly unworthy of reprehension or of notice in any other point of view. Ignorant men will cry out, it is a vexatious suit, when it is only a just prosecution at the tribunal of public opinion. They who would consider my reprehensions of Authors and (g) Basil. Archiepisc. Cassareae, Op. vol. i. p.698. JEd. Par.i6i8. [ 9 ] and of the tendency of their writings, as libels, or as libellous matter, are as ignorant of common law, as they are forgetful of common sense, or of common integrity and candour. With such men, every piece of criticism is a species of libel. If they are inclined to indict any part of my work as libellous^ it will be incumbent on them to contradict the great sage of the law [h), who declares, that '* In a criminal prosecution, the tendency which all ** libels have to create animosities and disturb the public " peace, is the whole which the law considers.'' I am content to be at issue with them on this point. If any part of my work is " blasphemous, immoral, treasonable, schismatical, seditious, or scandalous," let it be produced publicly, and publicly punished. But I maintain that, under these restrictions, I have an undoubted right to lay my sentiments before the world, on public books, in any manner I think proper. If I am denied this right, there is an end to the freedom of the press, and of the rational and guarded liberty of England. If the matter of my book is criminal, let it be shewn : I appeal to the Courts and to the Sages of the Law, I will not, however, be intimidated by the war-whoop of Jacobins, and democratic writers, nor moved by the feeble shrieks of witlings and poetasters. While I have power, 1 will plead in behalf of learning, and in the cause of my country. In this work, I have not violated the precepts of Christianity, nor the law of the land ; and till I have done both or either, it is not in the power of any man to de- grade my character and reputation with my country. If I liave drawn any supposed characters, without a name or de- signation, I have done no more than Theophrastus or La- Bruvere. (/;) Blackstone Comment. B. 4. Ch. ir. L 10 ] Bruyere. I shall not condescend to a discussion of such a subject. Many passages, and perhaps trifling or sportive allu- sions in this work, to persons and events, are best defended hy the general apology of Horace, ** Ego si risi quod in- " eptus Pastillos Rufillus olet, lividus et mordax videar?'* I shall offer no other apology. I would not descend to such minutiae, if they were not connected with my general design. Yet Sporus and Lord Fanny must be noticed, as well as Bufo and Atticus ; though perhaps such passages and allusions as these meet with the least indulgence. The works of Pope abound in them. To contemporaries they are pleasing and interesting; and to posterity they are often curious. But though 1 stoop to such trifles rather unwillingly, yet 1 feel they are often necessary to the full effect and completion of Satire. A Gentleman Usher is not the principal figure in the etiquette of a Court, but he must stand in his place. As to the charge of any supposed arrogance or pre- sumption; a writer, especially a poet, will be sometimes warmed with the dignity and importance of his subject, and may express himself in terms rather strong. The •' sume superbiam" of a poet is seldom severely examined : r it is an extravaganza at most, and understood as such. Much has been observed as to the defect of plan in my Poemi I will say but a few words ; for I wish not to vindi- cate, but to explain myself. The object Of the work, is a View of Literature. The Poem itself is, *' A Conversation «' on the various subjects of Literature, in a very extended ** sense, as it affects public order, regulated government, ** and [ II ] '* and polished society.*' Nothing is introduced which tend not, directly or indirectly, to that main purpose. It does not appear in the form of an Epistle, a mock-epic, or at didactic poem; but as a conversation in which subjects; are discussed as they arise naturally and easily; and the notes illustrate and enforce the general and particular doctrines. There is as much method and connection, as is consistent •with what I state to be my plan, or design^ if you like that word better. There is unity in the design. Conversatioa has it's laws, but they are pleasant, not severe restraints* Consuls indeed do not now meet Consuls in Tusculum; and, if I am rightly informed, the symposiacs at Wimble- don and Hoi wood have not too much severity of method, or equality in the glasses. Perhaps " it would be a bely- ** ing of the age, to put so much good sense together in *' any one conversation, as to make it hold out Steadily, ** and with plain coherence, for an hour's time (z)." I never desired to exhaust any subject, but to leave matter for the reader's own suggestion. I may add, that it would be difficult to analyze one of the most, finished Satires in our language, I mean Pope's Two Dialogues, or, as the)' are strangely called, the Epilogue to the Satires. I am represented as having threatened any person who makes enquiry after me or my name. It was not my intention to do so. I said, " it will be more than foolish " to be very inquisitive." I say so still; for when the avenue to any knowledge is strongly and effectually closed, who would labour after it fruitlessly ? To waste our time to no manner of use, is not surely one of the discrimi- nating (/) Shaftesbury's Moralists, Sect.Ii C I- 1 Bating marks of wisdom. I maintain it boldly; no man has a light to demand either my name or my situation. It has been observed on such occasions, that *' some might ''fight, but others would assassinate." For I believe indeed, that I, have no real enemies, but the lovers of confu- sion and the troublers of states. I will acknowledge it, I come armed into their confines, and I come in the dark- ness of the night. But if I were required or called upon to choose my companion, you know, I am prepared with ihe answer of Diomede* Et /xsv ^vi Ira^ov ye xEXsuEiS- [f^ctvrm sTvecrQai, J\c^s av £7rar' OAT2HOS sy^ ©EIOIO Xa9o/pt>:v ; Oj5 9rs§t //,sv 7rpo(p§a'v x^a^t?) Kcet Qt^/x-ag ccywcoq If I am forced indeed to descend into the lower regions of sorrow and confusion, among the perturbed spirits of anar- chy and democracy, I shall hope for the safe conduct of the Sibyll. She might produce the branch to the ferryman of France and Tartarus. I would wish her to exhibit this Foem, as the " Doaum fatalis virgse, longo post tempore " visum.'* My book is open to all the accumulated severity of public criticism, and public reprehension : I shrink from neither of them. When I am wrong, (I have never been so intentionally) I will correct myself, and I have done so frequently. In a field so extensive, candour will allow, that my mistakes have not been very numerous. As to my poetry or versification, it was not written as a vehicle for the notes, but the notes were composed to accompany .{k) II, 10. V, 243. C J3 ] Accompany the text. I offer the poetry to those who are conversant with the strength, simplicity, and dignity of Dryden and Pope, and them alone. I submit my Poems, ** The Pursuits of Literature, The Imperial Epistle, and The ** Shade of Pope,'' in this spirit and with this confidence to the public. There are men, (and women too) who understand. But as to the lovers of exotic poetry, I refer them to the Botanic Garden of Dr. Darwin. My plants and flowers are produced and cherished by the natural invigorating influence of the common sun ; I have not raised them by artificial heat. If the root of a tree is sound and vigorous, you strengthen the shoots by repressing their luxuriance. 1 ap- prove and would uphold our sacred and civil establishment. I would therefore mark the aberrations and misconduct even ■of men of talents and virtue, who compose it; fori would "tshew, that I am strictly impartial. I can censure, with discrimination, even where I generally approve, and consi- der nothing but the interest of the state upon the whole. It is to misunderstand or to misrepresent me, when it is as- serted that I attack alike friends and foes. I attack no man. in his individual capacity. I have nothing to do with the vanity or injudicious conduct of friends, but as they affect, the community; and I can have no personal malignity against those of whom I am personally ignorant. But they shall neither disturb nor overthrow the state of En aland, civil or religious, if any observations of mine caa avail. They may wish to know me; but they may depend upon it, I will 7iever give a proof of my spirit at the expence of my understanding. I would [ H 1 ■ I would not have you, or any man, think, that I enter into a defence of my work, as if I thought it required one. No. I have vindicated the authority of our national go. vernment and constitution, in a day of turbulence and ter- ror; i have defended the purity and dignity of religion, and of our sacred establishment; I have pleaded the cause of sound literature and of true philosophy; I have recalled the public attention to poetry without conceit, and to cri- ticism without affectation ; I have endeavoured to secure to women their honour, social rank, and happiness, by an attempt to turn the thoughts and hearts of the inhabitants of this island from works of obscenity and indecency, from the morals and manners of atheists and democratic spoilers, to the wisdom of the just; and I have boldly invaded the strong holds of impiety and anarchy, plebeian or tribunitian. I have done all this ; and I have offended many. 1 have brushed away the insects of literature, whe- ther fluttering or creeping; I have shaken the little stems of many a plant, and the flowerets have fallen. I have almost degraded myself by an attention to minute objects in the service of the public : and I am called upon to defend myself. No. My countenance is unaltered ; my perseverance is unbroken; the spirit and tenour of my speech are yet the same : my words are firm. Sanel causam dixi, (vel iterum dicturus), quo semper agere omnia solitus sum, ACCUSATORIO SP1RITU.(/) As to political matters we shall never want Observers. I hate deserters of their duty, [in) on any principle whatever. But I suppose some Statesmen think, that there is a laudable obliquity and a seasonable fear, for my own part I shall not (/) Liv. lib, 2. sect. 6i. (m) H, of Commons Nov. 1797, L u J not, on this occasion, invade the retreat of St. Ann's Hill, or violate the purity of Drury Lane. \i such Statesmen are resolved to free at once both the Senate and the Throne, the *" Saevi Spiracula Ditis'* are open to them; they may descend in safety, and disburthen the land. I do not believe that the possession of absolute power is in the reach of Mr; Pitt, or of any man. But the continuance of such a minister in office will be approved, as 1 think, while the security, and independence, and dignity of the crown, of the parlia- ment, and of the people of Great Britain, are maintained against the tyrannical pretensions of pirates, buccaneers, and plunderers. I would say to Mr. Pitt, as Cicero did to Torquatus, *' Tibi nullum periculum esse perspicio, quod quidera ** sejunctum sit ab omnium interitu." (n) That minister has not looked submissively, at any period of his long admini- stration, for personal protection in any quarter. There is a hardihood about the man, which 1 love. On the broad general question of the time, the public esteem has been commensurate with the royal approbation. In this, the policy of the closet, of the senate, and of the people seems to have been one. I am sure, I hope, that wherever Mr. Pitt, or any minister, proceeds, he will al- ways find a board of controll; nor would I by any means disapprove the advice of an honest Mandarin. But the stairs of the palace have now but one flight; the gate is in front, and the ascent direct. The noble Marquis, who is now no more in office, may brood safely over beads and relics. Tliere is some propriety in this amusement. It is pleasing to preserve the memorial of departed dignity. In {fi) Cic. Ep, ad Fam, Lib. Q. Ep. n t i6 3 In my opinion, the Moor's head might have adorned out coin with the royal Gallic lillies, though the Sovereignty of France and of Corsica is passed, I can stand aloof from the scene itself, but I am no stranger to the moving principle. I was not formed to wait long in the anti-chamber of a Duke of Lerma, or a Don Calderone. A little experience is sufficient for the ob» serving. It is either my advantage, or my misfortune, not to have adopted any profession : I never could decide that point. But, as you well know, I framed an early and an undaunted resolution, (perhaps not wholly justifiable, but certainly not degrading to the character) that I never would do perjonal suit and service, tor convenience or emolu- ment, to any man however high, in a subordinate station. 1 framed that resolution ; I adhered to it : and privacy is my lot. Be it so: it is the soil in which learning and reflec- tion strike deepest. In these days, it is my desire that obscurity should gather round me. Now and then indeed the thoughts of times, which are no more, will bring with them a casual, momentary, doubtful glimpse of what might have been ; and often, with the poet of Valclusa by the fountain of Sorga, I have regretted some periods of inactivity, not of sloth, which have passed, Senza levarmi a volo, avend'io Vale, Per dar forse di me non bassi esempi {p). But if the laurel, which 1 have now planted, should thicken round the temple of my retirement, the pillars will support it : the materials are solid, and the ground is firm. I have (o) Petrarch, P. a. Son, ^^^ I have indeed a few memoirs by me, written in other days and with other hopes ; and if I could polish the style, and reduce them a little into form, I am convinced they Would not be uninteresting. " Lc Roi et ses Ministres *' peutetre se fairoient lireces Memoires, qui assurement ne ** soht pas ceux d'un ignorant." But let this pass for the present. I am for practicable politics : I would not be driven into measures from which there is no retreat. I smile when I am told of love and hate in politicians and ministers. These are passions which they never felt ; for circumstances alone unite and separate them. I should wish to act with those statesmen who, as far as is consistent with the dignity and safety of the country, by a timely concession and a rational departure from too tig'id prin- ciples, would prevent those calamities which result front authority without power, and expence without supplies. But my hour for treating these subjects, in the manner I propose, is not yet come : I must turn to other thoughts for a season* When Philosophy saw the Muses standing by Boethiug in his affliction, she spoke in terms of some surprise and indignation {p). In our time this indignation would have been retorted by the sisters of the song. Philosophy has appeared, not to console, but to deject. When I have read and thought deeply on the accumulated horrors, and on ^\\ the gradations of wickedness and misery, through which B the {p) Boeth. de Consolat. Philos. L. i. Pros. i. The words are particular. " H^e sunt quae infructuosis affe^uum sfiin'is. ** uherem frudibus rationis segstem necant^ hominumque mentes ** assuefaciunt mprbo, 7ton iiherant,** — ** Medicina poxiva i^ TiMPUS EST, QtJAJyi Q^EB.lh^t[ ib. PfOS. S, [ i8 ] the modern systematic philosophy of Europe hais con- ^ducted her illuminated votaries to the confines of political death and mental darkness, my mind for a space feels a convulsion, and suffers the nature of an insurrection. I look around me. I look to human actions, and to human principles. I consider again and again, what is the nature and efteft of learning and of instruciion ; what is the doctrine of evidence, and the foundation of truth. I ask myself, are all these changed ? Have the moral and the na- tural laws of God to his creatures another basis? Has the lapse of fifty years made an alteration in Him, who is de- clared to be THE SAME to-day, yesterday, and for ever? Can the violence, the presumption, the audacity, the arro- gance, the tyranny ot man, drunk wqth self idolatry and temporary success, change the nature and essence of God and of his works, by calling good evil and evil good? I am lold, tliat human reason is nearly advanced to full perfec- tion ; 1 am assured, that she is arrived at the haven, where she would be. I again look around me. I ask, where is that haven ? where is that steady gale which has conducted her? 1 listen; but it is to the tempest: I cast my view Bbroad ; but the ocean is every where perturbed. I pause again. Perhaps, it is *' ike wind and st or 7n fulfilling HIS •' word!" I resume the reflections of suffering humanity amid the wreck of intellect. This was not the ancient character of '})hilosophy. The lovers ot wisdom, in the best ages of Athens and of Rome, always discoursed with reverence and submission to the Author and Governor of the world. They considered of whom they spoke. If they turned to the origin of evil, or to any dark and unfathomable ques- tion, tion, they Jirst called upon man to consider the limits of his understanding. They warned him, with most peculiar emphasis, to beware of those a>.uroi ecropixt,' those difficulties ©f hard solution, which are but increased by defences of arguments- ill constructed. They implored him affection- ately, to avoid all that tends to overthrow, to trouble, or dis- turb those principles, which conduct to peace and to right action. Their advice was to strengthen the intellect, and to compose the passions, not by braving and insulting the all- powerful, all-wise, and all-merciful Creator, but by an humble, phtient enquiry into his works, and by submission to his dispensations. Thev seemed to be well aware, that to him who understood all the bearings and relations of the word, Resignationio the will ol God was the whole of piety* If upon sages like these the light of revelation should appear, as the regent of fheir pliilosophical day, nothing can be con- ceived more august, nothing more ennobling, nothing more dignified. Poetry and philosophy may then speak a lan- guage worthy of themselves : Altius his nihil est: haec sunt fastigia mundi! PuBLiCA NATUR.^ DOMUS his contenta tenetur Finibus. (q) When we have read such writers, it is hardly possible not to turn from modern sceptics and sciolists with something' more than neglect. If to their philosophy they add witti- cism and ribaldry, they are nauseous. If to their ribaldry they join folly and gross ignorance, they sliould be driven from our fellowship with contempt. The continued labours' ©f the aich Theomachist of the age, the records of that per- B 2 petuai* (^) Manll. Astron. L. ^ L ^ ] factual conflict which he maintained, during, the course 6( fifty years of a long and impious life, against the spiritual ** kingdoms of God and of his Christ," and the memorials of his desolating days, will all be entombed in the French Pantheon with the mouldering remnant of his bones (r). *' Dust to dust: ashes to ashes." He sowed unto the flesh, ,and of the flesh he and his disciples have reaped death and corruptioni All the minor powers of infidelity, anarchy, sedition, rebellion, and democracy, may yei be dispersed in England', from their leaders Voltaire, D'Alembert, and Condorcet, to the vulgar illiterate blasphemy of Thomas Paine, and the contemptible nonsense of William Godwin. I feel for mankind when they are insulted by such writers. -I make common cause with my fellow creatures, and call topon them to rally round the constitution of our humarfi nature, and to support it's dignity. From writers of this character, my thoughts are directed fO the professors of that super stitipps corruption of Chris- tianity, which originally gave occasion to those attempts, to which it has pleased Providence to permit a temporary success, to scourge the nations of Europe. I am sure the plain ■^^ (r) To the writings of Voltaire the strong words of Eiisebius are applicable: " Avroci ui TOT ©EOMAXOT (pwvaj, stt* ** xaxias" i(T'/j)i /t*c7a7.at'p(,«/x£V», y.xi rccs Trpoy t8 Txj/jo-ra rois '* ayyskoK; irapoc'^o^EKTccs ruv sQvwv opoOsaias ^icxpTTCCffxi tixi (rvy/j^i'i *' a7rei?.fc!VT0S', upovoyL^uanv ts ttiV otKH/xsvviv, jiOLi ttccv to rcov ** avOpcoiTcuv 7£vo$ ^isx,(rci^i (^ocpsrpr^f Avra. arpoaOe 'jto^cuv. (g) I had once a thought, as you advised me, of analysing ttie following poem. But to what effect, and for what use? To men, like you, it is needless or presumptuous, and to others, it is superfluous. I am indeed confident, that when all the personal objects of my praise or censure shall have passed from the scene, this work will be found to contain principles of government, polity, religion, morality, edu- cation, criticism, poetry, and literature, worthy of being transmitted to another age. I have indeed already said much; but I think, I have something more to offer to my country, if the blessing of strength and health should graciously be extended and continued to me. I mean, if I see a proper occasion to present it, and if England should •not be absorbed in the vortex and abhorred gulf of demo- cracy and tyranny. Still perhaps I am incautious in my words ; for I Cc^n pro* ipise little. However that may be, my principle is and ever has C/) IvmKQy MQiQiiy ;iTg«Vvv» Find. Pyth. i. (^) Ilcm. Od,pi. t 30 3 lias been, that " no man liveth unto himself," forfiif own little pleasures, or mean gratifications, or low unworthy passions, the dirty family of selfishness, which by the law of Providence defeats it's own purposes. I speak not of a romantic, impracticable, general good, but of the speci- iic benefit which an individual may and can confer on his fellow-creatures, in his own limited sphere of action, by a continued exertion of the faculties or talents, with which he feels himself intrusted. The well-wishers to their country arc, above all things, desirous of the steady light of Literature; and of the day- spring from on high. Yet whatever they or we may hope^ the horizon may perhaps be now illuminated with it's departing beams. I will yet strive to be full of hope ; though in some passing moments of dejection, the strain of the Florentine poet, in all it's melancholy harmony, dwells upon my ear; Ptnsa, die qiiesto dl max non raggiorna ! [h) But let us still contemplate the glory which was cast round otheriimcs. I will therefore conclude this letter, by complying vvith your request, in offering you a very few ideas on the cAz>/ Satirists of ancient and ot modern fame. I may be singular perhaps; but if I except LuciLius, (who is known to us only by detached lines and short pas. sagcs,J in my opinion, the fulnass of the Satirical glory nevQjr shone but on six poets : Ouos orbe sub omni Jam vix septena numerat Sapientia fama. The character of LuciLiUS, the inventor of Satire, was respected by Scipio and Lselius ; and they were his friends, Pgctast^r^ (//} Dante Parad, I 3' ] Poetasters, rhetoricians, and even men of higVi quality and of consular rank, were often the suhjects of his censure. I know not what a modern PVcnch Directory might do with a man of his character; but Lucilius enjoyed respect and impunity in the Roman Republic. Horace in the politest age, under the despotism of Augustus, insinuated himself into the graces of the Emperor: yet he was pecu- liarly studious to mark the obnoxious, foolish, or wicked characters of his age. He was careful not to be misunder- stood. He noted the name, the profession, and the rank o£ those whom he devoted to undying ridicule, or consigned to the eternitv of fame. Augustus and Maecenas well kne\^ the value of such a poet. They looked to the stability o£ government and to the empire of good sense, and found them intimately connected with literature and poetry. In the time of Nero and Trajan, Juvenal and Persius exerted a severity without playfulness, and veiled themselves in obscurity, yet without being misunderstood. They applied directly and irresistibly to the inmost feelings of the heart, callous and depraved as it was. The writers were either , spared or neglected; but their works were admired and circulated. I know the person to whom I am no\vr addressing myself too well, to enter into a criticism on Horace, Ju- venal, or Persius; Mr. Dryden indeed has done it already. An interval of ages passed, dark and barbarous. The. power of Satire, in its full and legitimate strength, waa never again felt till the reign of Louis the fourteenth of France. Then appeared a Poet, second to none of his predecessors. A philosopher without being wordy, the f/iend of sense aad of virtue, a gentleman in principle^ independent independent in spirit, and fearless of enemies, howevet powerful from their malignity or formidable from their rank„' This extraordinary man was Boileau. If I arti not deceived, there is something in all his compositions so finished, sa removed from conceit and forced thought ; there is such an ardent zeal for propriety in sentiment and in expression ; such a sense of the dignity of the human character, whert undebased; such a hatred of hypocrisy; such a love of purity; such an abhorrence of all profaneness and inde- cency, and even of indelicacy; that I am not able to name a man whose works, as a poet and a critic, may be read and studied with equal advantage. Even his compliments, though rather lofty, to Louis the. fourteenth are all con- ceived in the language of a gentleman and a man of genius, who feels that he is conferring honour, not receiving it. The majesty of the French monarch, in that cultivated age, was surely as worthy of homage as the deily of the Roman Augustus, To read the works of Boileau with full advan-? tage, some accuracy of knowledge, and some insight into the delicacy of the ancient French language, arc required. I call their language ancienty which existed before the revolution, for I scarce understand the modern democratic jargon. *' Grave virus munditias pepulitJ^ It is also necessary to have a perception of the peculiar cast of the French poetry, and of the construction of the verse. An allowance must be made for the language itself, which is not poetical as contradistinguished to prose, but forcible, terse, and well adapted to the condensation of satirical expression. As a writer, I think him original. What he bas borrowed, he almost seems to have regtoxed to it*a t propes* t 33 ] |5roper place. He alternately assumes the characters of the three great Romans; and maintains an honourable contest for the mastery. Equal to either of them taken singly; and in the merit of composition, sometimes their superior. He is their true and lawful brother ; there is a fraternal league between them, which no friend to good literature, good poetry, and good manners, will ever suffer to be broken. Nearly at the same period, after some momentary gleams and strong flashes in the horizon, Satire arose in England. When 1 name Dryden, I comprehend every varied excellence of our poetry. In harmony, strength, modu- lation, rythra, energy, he first displayed the full power of the English language. My business with him at present, is only as a Satirist ; I will be brief, for I speak to the intelli- gent. He was tiie first poet who brought to perfection, what I would term, " The Allegory of Satire." Fables indeed, and apologues, and romances, have been the most ancient modes of reproof and censure. It was the peculiar happiness of Dryden to give an eternal sense and interest to subjects which are transitory. He placed his scene on the ground of actual history. The reader of every age has an interest in the delineation of characters and names, which have been familiar to him from his ear- liest years. He is already prepared, and feels a predilectioa for the subject. This accommodation of ancient charac- ters to existing persons has a peculiar force in the age to" which it is addressed; and posterity reads with delight a poem founded on pristine story, and illustrated by the records of modern times. € Dryden's C 34 1 Dryden's power of Satire has been generally acknoW-" ledged in his Mac-Flecknoe ; but his master^piece is that wonderful and unequalled performance, Absalom and Achitophel. He presents to us an heroic subject in heroic numbers, a well-constructed allegory, and a forcible appeal to our best feelings and passions. He paints the horrors of anarchy, sedition, rebellion, and democracy, with the pencil of Dante, or of Michael Angelo ; and he gives the speeches of his heroes with the strength, propriety, and correctness of Virgil. It is Satire in it's highest form; but it is satire addressed to the few. It is not adapted to the general effect of this species of poetry. In my opinion, Dryden has not the style and manner of Horace, or Juvenal, or Persius, or Boileau. Pope called him unhappy, from the looseness of the age in which he lived. He has enthusiasm, majesty, seriousness, severity, gravity, strength of conception, and boldness of imagery. But sprightliness, gaiety, an easy badinage, an occasional playfulness, so ne- cessary to the general effect of satirical poetry, were all wanting to him. Perhaps his genius was too sublime. He could not, or he would not, descend fco the minutiae which are often required, to the anecdotes, and the passing traits of the time. His satire had an original character. It was the strain of Archilochus sounding from the lyre oi Alcseus, The ,Sixtpi and last of this immortal Brotherhood, in the fulness of time, and in the maturity of poetical power, came Pope. All that was wanting to his illustrious pre- decessor found its consummation in the genius, knowledge, correct sense, and condensation of thought and expression, which distinguish this poet. The tenour of his life was peculiarly favourable to his office. He hadj^rj^ cultivated 1 ^1 [ 3S ] all the flowery grounds of poetry. He had excelled in description, in pastoral, in the pathetic, and in general criticism ; and he had given an English existence in perpe^ tuity to the Father of all poetry. Thus honoured, and with these pretensions, he left them all for that excellence, for which the maturity of his talents and his judgment so eminently designed him. Familiar with the great, intimate with the polite, graced by the attentions of the fair, admired by the learned, a favourite with the nation, independent in an acquired opulence, the honourable product of his genius and industry ; the companion of persons distinguished for birth, high fashion, rank, wit, or virtue, and resident in the center of all public information and intelligence ; every avenue to knowledge and every mode of observation were open to his curious, prying, piercing, and unwearied intel- lect. His works are so generally read and studied, that I should not merely fatigue, but I should almost insult you by such a needless disquisition. As a disciple of these great masters, and full of that spirit which an unbroken and an honourable intimacy with their works has inspired, I now present myself a votary at their temple; and in some measure clothed in the robes of their hereditary priesthood, I would also enter, and offer my obla- tion at the high altar of my country. But if, unworthy of this hallowed investment and interior ministry, the door of the sanctuary is closed upon me ; I shall retire without a mur- mur, and with devotion unimpaired worship in the vestibule.^ You can best judge of my motives, who have known most intimately the nature and extent of my studies, solitary so long in their acquirement, and now public at last in their applica* lion and in their end. With a necessary indulgence for all C z my t 36 I my frailties, vices, errors, follies, and imperfections, and with the partiality of friendship, you, and such as you, may 'perhaps allow me to apply to myself, with some little varia* Hon, the words of the most fervid poet of antiquity : Non tenues ignavo pollice chordas Fulso, sed Auru7ici residens in margine templi Audax magnorum tumulis adcanto Magistrum* I am, &c, &c. ' iiiitm^t THE [ 37 ] THE PURSUITS OF LITERATURE, =?* DIALOGUE THE FIRST. Audaci quicunque afflate Cratino, Iratum Eiipolidem praegrandi cum sene palles, ^spice et hcec^ si forte aliquid decoct ius audii ; Indc vapoiat^ lector mihi feiveat aure. PES.S. SAT. I. m^»4mHMMVMH«B^niW««n«riHH#« ^vm» u *m^m'i^^ar^mmmma^mmt^mar^n^^''wr V ■' ■^i^^**^^^ [ 39 3 THE PREFACE TO THE FIRST DIALOGUE(a) OF THE PURSUITS OF LITERATURE. X H E importance of the subject of this Poem, anci tlie necessity of such an appeal to the kingdom at this time, are the best reasons which I can offer for it's publication. But in regard to the various matters which are considered in the following composition, I recommend to my readers a passage from a collection of the most pleasing and informing treatises in natural philosophy which I ever read, or I believe ever were written; I mean the Chemical Essays by Dr. Watson, the present Bishop of LandafT. [b] The passage is this; " Sir Isaac Newton and Dr. Bentley C 4 " met (^) First printed in May 1794, \h) Vol. 4, p. 25. t 40 1 ** met accidentally in London^ and on Sir Isaac's inquiring •"' what philosophical Pursuits were carrying on at Cam- •' bridge, the Doctor replied, none ; for when you *' go a hunting, Sir Isaac, you kill all the game; you have ^*- left us nothing to pursue." *' Not so, said the ?' philosopher, you may start a variety of game in every ^* bush, if you will but take the trouble to beat for it.'* *' And so in truth it is," (observes Bishop Watson) " every *' object in nature affords occasion for philosophical experi- " ment." I may add, that such a state of society and of literature, as the present, affords occasion for numerous experiments and observations, without any danger of mutual interference. In this Poem no imitation whatsoever is intended of any form.er writer, or of any former poem. // was written upon no, private motive whatsoever) but simply and solely as the conduct oj the persons mentiontd or alluded to^ or the manner of their compositions, or the principles of their writings, tend to infuence and a^ect the learnings the government,, the religion, the public morality, the public happiness, and the public security oj this Nation. My intentions are just and justifiable to reascnable men, who will reflect on what has passed, and is passing before them. We must indeed be sensible, that it is now no longer a mere sport of the pen, a light skirmish, or a random shaft, the ApoUireas helluvi puerile pharetrae, which are alone demanded ; but our weapons must be instruments of war, able to break down the strong holds of anarchy, impiety, and rebellion, and mighty to vindicate the powers of legitimate authority. In every region of Europe there should have been a common cause. But in nq kingdom, except Great Britain, has that cause beer; a ' maintaine4 C 4» 3, inaintained in full integrity. While I am writing, (c) we jare convulsed to our center; and yet in the midst of fear, we are impudently and wickedly told, there is no cause ©f alarm. Talia dum celebro, subitam civilis Erlnnys Tarpeio de monte facem, Phlegraeaque movit Prselia ; sacrilegis lucent Capitoha taedis, Et Senonum furias Latiae sumpsere cohortes.(^) We may (for we can) all of us contribute to th« assistance, the comfort, and the good of others, and to the stability of social happiness. The sword, the voice, and the pen must be resolutely and decisively called into action, for defence, for counsel, for admonition, and tor censure. Satirical writings must submit to the imputation of ill-nature, though I see no necessary connection between them. In my opinion, Satire has nothing to do with good-nature, or with ill-nature. It's office respects the public good alone, and the interests of the community. It is frequently designed to supply the laws, in those cases which are beyond their jurisdiction. From such courts it ?ippeals to perhaps a still higher tribunal, that of public opinion, character, and reputation. Such are my ideas ; yet I am sure I have nothing of the wild American in my composition ; I never wished to destroy any man, either to inherit his wit or plunder him of his understanding. But I will bow to no Cyrill of Alexandria, to no Executive Director of a modern Repub- }ic, to no lordly president of factious councils, of democratic {c) 1796. () THE AUTHOR AND OCTAVIUS. THE AUTHOR. 1 WHO once deem'd my race of labour run, And camps, and courts, and crowds, and senates shun. Still to the publick raise no venal voice. In the full freedom of a Briton's choice. Through tracts aloft on daring pinions rove. Where'er by duty borne, or led by love. Yet {a) First published in May 1794. .{b) Juv. Sat. 6. I 44 3 Yet not unconscious of this awful age> I mark what new conflicting Sophists rage, Sophists who laugh to scorn th' avenging rod. And hurl defiance to the throne of God ; Shake pestilence abroad with maddening sweep. And grant no pause—but everlasting sleep ! (c) Blood-guiltiness their crime; with hell they cope ? No flesh, no spirit now must rest in hope. But under foliage dark, and cypress gloom. The (d) sculptured mock'ry marks and seals the tomb* New lights on all, but on the poet, rise; Still can he smile, and with no murm'ring sighs Can own well-pleas'd, that now the meanest Bard, Bavins, (J) or Maro, finds the same regard. 20 Not [c] This alludes to the French decree which in 1793 abo- Jished, iy law, a futurity of existence. Impiety and absurdity are the natural consequences of their principles. (fl?) The French have also decreed, that in every church-yard trees shall be planted, and the figure of sleep erected pointing to the tombs ; and this sleep they decree to be eternal. N. B. This was the fact, when this First Part of the Pursuits of J^iterature wzs first published in May 1794,— •It may be so again^ or may be so at this moment, 1796. C 45 J Not as Maecenas once with partial ray Ilium 'd the rlsbg glories cf his day^ Whose orb the Mantuan plains alone would warm,. Or beam propitious on the Sabine farm. OCTAVIUS, Why should you write? the world is now so ncklc. Scarce is there room for Sheridan {e) and Tickell j (/) And ( The Muse all friendless wept o'er Mickle's (y)urn : Mickle, who bade the strong poetic tide Roll o'er Britannia's shores in Lusitanian pride. AUTHOR. Then I must suit the temper of these times. Degraded now to mere historic rhymes ; 70 And last be haiFd in some sagacious page, The finest, brightest poet of the age; And that with grave solemnity so sad. Faith, tis enough to make poor Hayley (/) mad. No: {f) See the Flights of Fancy? 4to, by Thomas Penrose, Curate of Newbury, Berks. The names of the poems alluded to arc these, The Helmets, The Carousal of Odin, and Madness.— He published these himse'f, and no more; and I speak of thece. No author should be judged for posthumous works, published by friends^ except he ordered them to be published after his decease. (j) William Julius Mickle, a man of genius, and of great poetical powers. He translated the Lusiad of Camoens in a free paraphrastic manner, but with the spirit of an original poet. I never could account for the neglect of so very poetical a work, (/) Rowley, — Piger scribendi ferre laborem, Scribendi rectet nam «/ fmtltum nil moron -}■ J Hor. X, L. I. Sat. 4. v. is. Pa The , t 54 3 No : though in vain I may attempt to please, I'll write with learning what I think with ease. What ? — from the Muse, by crypogarnksicaXthi {^•) Must I purloin her native sterling wealth? In The notes which Mr. Hayley, who is a very ingenious man and a pleasing scholar, has written on his various poems are very amusing, and not unfrequently afford much instruction. Had he but learned the art of blotting, he might possibly have attained considerable eminence, and preserved it. But as he is in general too feeble, tedious, and insufferably prolix, [nne boutique dc verbiage) consequently, &c. &c. See Horace, who has pronounced an irreversible sentence on all such persons stiiing themselves poets, however volumifious their works may be, {y) See " The Botanic Garden and the Loves of the Plants, ** by Dr, Darwin." I wish men would peruse the treatise de Gausis Corruptae Eloqiientiae, [a) before they attempt by pretti- nesses, glittering words, points, conceits, and forced thoughts, to sacrifice propriety and just imagery to the rage of mere novelty. This will always be the case, when writers in prose, or verse, (if I may be allowed to use Sancho's phrase a little metaphorically) " want better bread than is made of wheat." Modern ears are absolutely debauched by such poetry as Dr. Darwin's, which marks the decline of simplicity and true taste in this country. It is to England, what Seneca's prose was to Rome : Abundat dulcibus vitiis. {b) Dryden and Pope are the standards of excellence in thic species of writing in our language; and when young minds are •- — . ■ — • , — ■ — ■ — ■ ■ {a) Printed at the end of Tacitus, under the title " Dinlogus 5* de Oratoribus," one of the most finished treatises of antiquity, {b) Quinti], lib, lo. c. !• > , [ 55 J In filmy, gawzy, gossamery lines. With lucid language, and most dark designs, So In sweet tetrandryan^ monogynian strains. Pant for ajiystill in botanic pains ; On the luxurious lap of Flora thrown. On beds of yielding vegetable down. Raise lust In pinks; and with unhallow'd fire Bid the soft virgin violet expire ? [x) Is it for me to creep, or soar, or doze. In modish song, or fashionable prose ? [y) To are rightly instituted in their works, they may, without much danger, read such glittering verses as Dr. Darwin's. They will then perceive the distortion of the sentiment, and the harlotry of the ornaments. It would also be a happy thing for all naturalists, whether poets or writers in prose, if they would in the words of a true poet, *' Look, through Nature up to Nature's God!^* Dr. Darwin is certainly a man of great fancy ; but I will not cease to repeat, that good writing and good poetry requhc some- thing more, Ot' yap ev ij^cGokti keito-i {x) I would just hint that it is a matter of some curiosity to me to conceive, how young ladies are instructed in the terms of botany, which are very signifcojit. It cannot however even be supposed, that any person would discountenance the study «f Botany and of Natural History which opens, enlarges, and animates the youthful mind, when conducted with propriety and discrimination, D 4 [ 56 ] To pen with garreteers obscure and shabby, Inscriptive nonsense in a fancied Abbe}^ ;{z} 90 Or some Warkvvorthian hermit tale endite, Such ditties as our gosip spinsters write ? Say, must I tempt some Novel's lulling theme , Bid the bright eye o'er Celestina (2:2;) stream; With {y) I allude to the poising of sentences, their triads, and other artificial division;> of modern prose, by whi^h the whole simplicity and naturaldignity of our English style are abandoned and lost. (z) Such trash as a vile pamphlet called Kilkhampton Abbey, Cs'c. ^c, ^c. in short the whole mugitns Labyrinth!. Every age produces similar tra.:h, and this name serves, as well as any other, to mark my meaning in this place. (zz) Put for almost any modern novel. Mrs. Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Inch bald, Mrs. Mary Robinson, Mrs. &c. &c. though all of them are very ingenious ladies, yet they are too frequently luhinirig or frisking in novels, till our girls' heads turn wild with impossible adventures, and are now and thei^i tainted with democracy. Not so the mighty magician of the Mysteries op Udolpho, (42) bred and nourished by the Florentine Muses in theirsacred solitary cavern% amid the paler shrines of Gothic superstition, and in all the dreariness of inchantment ; a poetes5 whom Ariosto would with rapture have acknowledged, as the La nudrita Damigella Trivulzia al sacro steco.* (1796.) I would! {a) Mrs, Anne Radcliffe, * O. F. c.46. [ 57 ] With fabled knights, and talcs of slighted love. Such as our Spanish Cato (a) might approve ? In I would say a word on Romances or Novels. No man of geniusorpf judgment everdespised or neglected the great masters in this useful and alluring species of writing, beginning with the Odyssey of Homer. No works can be read with more delight and advantage,when they are selected with discrimination; they animate and improve the mind. Every person should be well acquainted with the whole of Cervantes, of Le Sage's unequalled and unrivalled Gil Bias, and of Tom Jones, (that great comic P'pic poem) by Fieldinf:. These perhaps are all which it is necejfary to read; and they afford illustration to eveiy event of life. From these, with great caution, we must pass to later writers. Smollett had much penetration, though he is frequently too vulgar to please; but bis knowledge of men and manners is unquestionable. Of Sterne and Rousseau it is difficult to speak without being misunderstood; yet it is impossible to deny the praise of wit and originality {a) to Yorick, or of captivating elo- quence to the philosopher of vanity. Their imitators are below notice. I never read the Eloisa without the pathetic exclama- tion of Dante : Per {a) T cannot think that the ingenious, amusing, and acute observations of Dr. Ferriar, in which he has traced some of Sterne'shints and remarks to Rabelais, Burton, and other writers^ detract from the absolute originality of his genius. They point out the train of his wild and excentric reading; but his manner and his wit are still, and will ever continue to be, exclu- lively his own. > (iSoo.) C 58 3 In Travels for the Heart, (^) and not the head. From post to pillar, and from board to bed. Thro' Per piu fiate gli occhi ci sospinse Quella lettura, et scolorocci il viso; Ma solo un Jiuntofu^ quel die ci vinse. Qnando leggemmo, cominciai, J/iI, lassol Quanti dolci /lensier^ quanta desio j\Ienu cosioro al d^loioio [lasso ! i^b) The Eloisa is a very dangerous book, in it's commencement, and I would particularly warn young persons to avoid it The book is now indeed beyond the reach of any control ; but as the cha- racter of the author is now fully understood, it's power of doing "harm is considerably diminished. But to extract good out of evil, 1 must observe, it is buc justice to the author of it, to acknow- ledge, that, (as the book is so much read and cannot be sup- pressed,) the result from the perusal of the whole /^?/^^« /^^^///^r is this, namely ; that perpetual uneasiness, disquietude, and often irreversible misery are the certain consequences of vice, or of fatal misconduct, in any woman however gifted, or as it appears, however reclaimed. It is difficult, I think it is impossible, to deny or disprove this; but I still wish the novel had never been written. Let us then turn to Clarissa, the work of a man of virtue and rrenius, which is too celebrated for any additional praise. Mrs. Charlotte Smith has great poetical powers, and a pathos which commands attention. Much knowledge of life and ingenuity are seen in Miss Burney now Mrs. D'Arblay's Novels; but her propensity to high colouring and broad farce have lessened their effect. It is a fatal error in this species of writing to overstep the boundaries of nature and of real life. I. cannot descend among all the modern farrago of novels, which are too ci'ie^ {h) Dante Inf. c. 5, [ 59 ] Through climes of various woe the pilgrim lead. Till Charlotte droops, and master misses bleed, loo OCTA- often " receipts to make — s." Yet I could select a few, which have merit, with great pleasure, if it were not foreign to my purpose to enlarge on this topic. I cannot however refrain from giving a just and sensible ob- servation from the latest writer on this subject, in his view of Romance*; an Essay composed rather hastily, and perhsps inaccurately, but with all the power of pleasing and happy facility of writing so conspicuous throughout his works. Dr. Moore thus expresses himself: " Modern romances and novels are, or " ought to be, a representation of life and manners in the coun- " try, where the scene is placed. Had works of this nature ** existed inthe flourishing ages of the Greek and Roman Rcpub- ** lies, and had some of the best of them been preserved, how <' infinitely would they be relished at present! as they would ** give a much more satisfactory picture of private and domes- " tic life than is found in history, which dwells chiefly oa ** war and affairs of state.'* (1798). {a) The late venerable Earl Camden (once Lord High Chan- cellor of England, a character of dignity, ability, learning and independance,) is said to have learned Spanish very late in life, to read the romances in that language; having exhausted those written in English, French, and Italian. All the world knows that Cato learned Greek at sixty years of age, to read the romances in that tongue. {l>) All such works as abound in what is called in modern jargon, the sublime instinct of sentiment. * Prefixed to Dr. Moore's edition of Smollet's works in lygj* page 92. C 60 ] « OCTAVIUS. Jf these disgust, to serious cares attend, And make serene Philosophy your friend. Pen some choice Fragment (c) In the genuine taste. Each powV combined of wit and learning waste ; Smart (<:) Alluding to the swarm of free thinking and democratical pamphlets with whicli the public have been pestered. It is hoped that the interference of the legislature, and the constitu- tional exertions of private societies have either lessened their number, or deprived them of their malignant intentions. The time for discnmination seems to be come. Toleration is fully granted to atl opinions, subject to the controui of the legislature after their publication, in the open courts of law by the verdict of a jury, in which irue /iSeriy consists. Good order and just authority must be maintained with vigour and decision. But HE is chiefly to be consulted, who, if I may be allowed to use the language a little metaphorically, ** hath stood between ** the dead and the living, and stayed the plague," Edmund Eurke! greater and brighter in the decline, than in the noon- day of his life and vigour. It would be almost an injury to name the works whereof all Europe rings ; but to his country- men t,hey speak with a force not to be resisted. OMNES Admonet, et magna testatur voce per umbras, DiSCITE JUSTITIAM M0N1TI,ET Is' ON TE MNERE Dl VOS. (1794.) On a second consideration however I think it right to name these, works of Mr. Burke, i . Reflections on the Revolution in France^ C 6i ] Smart and concise, with deepest meaning fraught, Neat be the types, and the vignettes high wrought 5 With and on the proceedings in certain societies in London relative to that event. (1790.) 2. A Letter to a Member of the National Assembly. (1791). 3. An Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs in consequence of some discussions in Parliament relative to the Reflections on the French Revolution. (1791). 4, A Letter on the Attack made on him in the H. of L. by the D. of Bedford, and the E. of Lauderdale (1796). 5. Two Letters on the proposals for Peace with the Regicide Directory of France (1796.) 6. (Posthumous in 1797,) Letters on the conduct of our domestic Parties with regard to French Politics, includ- ing Observations on the Conduct of the Minority in the Session of 1793. 7. Memorials on French affairs, 1791, 92, and 93.— N. B. The remainder of Mr. Burke's posthumous writings may be expected from the exemplary zeal and honourable attention of his executors. Dr. Laurence and Dr. King. " Sunt adhuc '^ curae hominibus fides et officium; sunt qui defunctorum *' quoque amicos agant.'' * (i797') Whoever warns the Having against a mortal distemper, or shews the causes of it, and the mode of prevention, and the final remedy, may be said to stand, as a guardian angel, between the dead and the living. In this sense, Edmund Burke stayed the plague, by his masterly, vigorous, and formidable exposure, to the kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland, of the modern French principles and national desolation, in all the fullness of their deformity, and in tlie terrors of their operation. The spear of Ithuriel discovered and displayed Satan in his proper shape. * Plin. Ep, ith frontispiece to catch the gazer's eye. Treason, the pile; the basis, blasphemy, (r^) Free from dull order, decency, and rule. With dogmas fresh from the Sans Souci-school j 1 16 Y/ith definitions vague and terms mysterious. Seeming humility, but tone imperious. Mankind's meek friend, and Nature's gentle sage. The Priest of Reason in her chosen age-, (J) Then (cc) The hasis^ hUsphemy, — This is the progress of moderii Republicanism. The dissolution or rejection of all religious principle prepares the mind for breaking every bond of esta- blished government, however just or reasonable, to introduce iiito practice some new theory of general good: so very general, as to have nothing to do with the good of the individual. For the nature of this general good consult the National Assembly and Convention of France : ** Agri, edificia, loca, possessiones, '* ^ccELUM ET MARE prastermiseruHt, cretera complex! sunt) *' publice daia^ as sign at a, ^endita /'*t Mirabeau began with these memorable words: " Si vous voulez une Revolution, il •' iz.\xx. commencer '^2iX decatholkuer la France,''^ (1794.) (d) One of the most extraordinary treatises of this kind, is a work in French, intitled, •* The Ruins; or a Meditation on •' the Revolution of Empires ; by Mr. Volney, Deputy to the ♦' National Assembly in 1789." It is written with some spirit, f Cic. deLeg. Agrar. Orat, 3,, C 63 3 Then bending low, with equal reverence searcii The and not without eloquence in some parts, and abounds with what is«6W called Philosophy. The intent of this book is to attack every principle of religion In the heart, even the principles of the religion now termed, natural, Mr. Volney wishes to convince mankind, that e ^ Augustinus* L 66 ] You steal Religion from the unguarded heart, And condescended to instruct the race of man. It might properly liave been expected, that a rational being, so circumstanced, would have seduloufly enquired into a subject of such vast importance; ; that he would not have suffered himself to have been diverted from the investigation by the pursuits of weahh, or honour, or ^ny temporal concern j much less by notions taken up \^'ithout attention, arguments admitted without examination, or prejudices imbibed in early youth, from the profane ridicule, or impious jestings of sensual and immoral men. - - Some difficulties will undoubtedly remain, and it would be a miracle, greater than any we are instructed to believe, if there remained none. If a being with but five scanty inlets of knowledge, separated but yesterday from his mother earth, and to-day sinking again into her bosom, could fathom the depths of the wisdom and know- ledge of Him, 'which is, and ivhich ^was^ and '^hich is to come. The Lord God Almighty !" («) Before I close this note, I cannot help reminding, not informing, eniery reader, that even Tacitus, (the favourite author of many free thinkers, though I know not why) has borne testimony to the existence and last sufferings of Jesus Christ, imder the procurator Pontius Pilate, in the reign of Tiberius. ** Auctor nominis ejus Christus, qui Tiberio imperitante, per procuratorem Pontium Pilatum, supplicio affectus erat*.'' Yet we are assured, with an effrontery without a parallel, that Christ, or Chris-en, is only a cal^alistical na.nit of the Sun. So is the name »f .Csesar, of Socrates, or of Plato. Are we not ashamed of listening (a) Preface (p. 9 and 13) to the Theological Tracts, in six volumes octavo, collected by Richard Watson, D, I>, bishop of JLandaff. • Annal, L. 15. sjct, 441. C 67 3 And in the see-saw undulating plaj^ The moral chorus dies in words away. i^e Thence careless saunt'ring in Vacuna's vale. Tune to your listless lyre some Crazy Tale j(/) Dash for applause, nor seek a poet's name. Content with scribbling and ambiguous fame ; From laws of metre fee, (which idly serve To curb strong genius and it's swelling nerve). In verse half veird raise titillating lust, Like girls that deck with flowers Priapus' bust. (^) Go listening to such writers as Mr, Volney, who address ns so unworthily? Yet this is the manner in which Mr. Volney, and such as Mr; Volney, treat the whole human race, men and women, learned and unlearned. The general character of all these writers may be expressed in language at once awful and true: '* Non est qui judicatvere; confidunt in nihilo, loquuntur vanitates j concepcrunt laborem, pepererunt iniquitatem.** (/) See Crazy Tales, &c. and the whole school of Lt. Fontaine* (g) See Angelica Kauffman's elegant print; but ic ht9 be remembered that the subject is purely classical. Speaking on this subject, a friend of mine would insist upon my perusing.a long disquisition in quarto, ok thb Worship f 68 3 Go turn to Madan, and in Gospel truth. And Thelyptlioiic (//) lore instruct our youth : 1301 Some OF Priapus, (printed in 1786) with numerous and most disgusting plates. It has not been published, but distributed jiberaily, (a) without any injunction of secrecy, to the emeriti in speculative Priapism, as one would think. As I hope the treatise may be forgotten I shall not name the author {b), but observe, that all the ordure and filth, all the antique pictures, and all the representations of the generative organs, in their most odious and degrading protrusion, have beea ^ 1 I I ■« II ■ I. ■. I. II. i ni ■ - . .■■ . I ..Ill I III! •mmmmmmmm^mmmt^ {a) i, e. By the Dilettanti Society. The solemnity with which the Dilettanti meet and present their valuable works to the chosen few, and the inscription in the blank leaf of each book, are father ludicrous. The President (of the day) is invested with a Roman Toga in a sort of consular pomp. Before the vote for printing Mr. 's Priapus had passed, I should have said with Roman sternness, had I been present, ** I lictor, colliga *' manus^." — This Roman farce would (and perhaps may) form the subject of a legitimate Satire^ (1796). The Dilettanti Society best know ^what emblem, modelled in wax, is laid upoa their table at their solemn meetings. *' Graee *' Discumbunt ; Kec fvelari pi Ctur a juhetur : ** For sit an expect es, ut G adit ana canoro ** hicipiat prurire choroJ* Juv. {h) The author afterwards named himself, and was very angr/ with me without any reason. I only did my duty to the pub* iic,'**Sec P,of L. Dial. 4. v. 57. (Added Aug. 1797), § Liv« Lib. 1. c. a6« t 69 3 Some plain positions lay, as simply thus j Marriage (/") consists in — aau coitus : Laymen been raked together and copulated (for no other idea seems to be in the mind of the author) and copulated, I say, with a new species of blasphemy. Such are, what 1 would call, the records of the stews and boriiellos of Grecian and Roman antiquity, exhibited for the recreation of antiquaries, and the obrcene revellings of Greek scholars in their private studies. Surely this is to dwell mentally in lust and darkness in the loathsome and polluted chamber at Capreae. Essays on Landscape and Gar- dening may, I hope, purify the mind : and as the author is conversant with Greek writers, and is now at a certain time of life, I recommend to him a sentence from an author, who per- haps is not in his catalogue, though Mr. — — . would be thought a philosopher : (h) See a book entitled Thelypthora, or The Causes of Female Ruin; in 3 vols. 8vo. — Mr. Madan says, ** The crime of adul- •• tery increases among us, insomi^h that one would think many •* of the British ladies, either never read their Bibles at all, or ** else only that edition of it, which was printed by the Company ** of Stationers in the time of Charles the First, vvherein they ^* printed the seventh Commandment without the word not.'*^ Thelypth, vol. i. p. 69. 2d edit. (/) These expressions, and some that follow, are taken verbatim from the book itself j (chap, i and 3. ad edit.) and yet there are persons who think that such treatises should be answered seriously. N. B. If in this place, and in a very few others, I have been ^bli^ed to introduce some expressions which are rather strong, E 3 readers [ 70 3 Laymen ma}^ have ten wives ; poor priests (it) but one : Then growl at British laws in surly' tone. That " loving man must grind with loving wife In mola asinaria, during life." {///) ' E'en give with Thickness(^)useful Hints for Health, For public good, though not for private wealth -, Like readers who reflect, will pardon me ; for it is impos- 'sible to give an effectual exposure of the nnwarrantable and scandalons licence of some writers without it. The following excellent words will explain my meaning: *' The ancient satirist^ ** often used great liberty in their expressions j but their freedom *' no more resembles this licentiousness, than the nakedness of ** an Indian does that of a common prostitute." Hume's Hist. Qf Eng. vol. viii. p^ 33. (Si sic omnia !) (/7) See Thelypth. vol. i. p. 117. 2d edit, (///) *' As things are with «/, the poor man most grind ia *^ mola asinaria during life." Thelypth. vol. r. p. 176. 2d edit, (/?) Mr, Thickness, in his *< Valetudinarian's Bath Guide," dedicated to the Earl of Shelburne, now Marquis of Lans- downe, has these words, *' I myself ain now turned of sixty, *' and in general, though 1 have lived in various climates, and *' suffered severely in body and mind, yet having always partaken ** 0/ the breath of young 'women 'vchencver they lay in my njoayy I feel ** none of those infirmities which so often strike my eyes and ears «* in this great city, in men much younger than myself.'* Chap. the fifth J to which Mr. T. has put his own name, and he is rather a voluminous author. But, alas! what says Like answering, as a body, for the works they publish. Every society must be answerable for it's own sense or nonsense, " as a ** BODY," unless they choose to inscribe, in large gold letters, over their meeting room, "Corpus sine P£CtoreI" (1794). (q) I draw my humble information of Chatterton from his life in the New Biographia Britannica, though I cannot compliment Dr. Gregory on such a meagre performance. They, who have time, may read Mr. Tyrwhitt, Mr. Bryant, Dr. Mille?, Mr. Thomas Warton, and all the tribe of major and of minor critics (of shigh and of double pinks^ as Mr. Sheridan says in his Critic) on this important subject; but I have read something about vitse summa brevis &c. he. and confine myself to the general view of this controversy in Mr, Matliias's candid and comprehensive Essay. (1794). (r) ** I am the veriest varlet that e'er chew'd,*' says FalstafF, in Henry IV. Parti. Act. a.— Mr. Horace Walpole, now J ord Orford, did not however seem to think it necessary that this 'uarht Chatterton should che^v at all. See the Starvation Act, dated at Strawberry Hill, Vide Gregory's Life, as above. (1796). (s) As to this strange subject, the worst that can be said of it is, ** magno conatu magnas nugasj" but they are tnfies I lathcr r 75 1 Like Hardwicke,(/)shclves withgossip volumcsclog, Of Baby Charles, and Jemmy's Slave and Dog? Of Lorkin's {v) diligence for lords' arrears. With trumpery notes of long forgotten peers } « Shall I new anecdotes from darkness draw. That Strawb'ry Horace on the Hill [w) ne'er saw. With wire-zvove [x) hot-jiress'd paper's glossy glare Blind all the wise, and make the stupid stare ? i6o Or rather pleasant and instructive. I am sure Dr. Milles proved a pleasant subject for that chef d'oeuvre of wit and poetry, the Archaeological Epistle, written by Mr. Mason. (t) See the Miscellaneous State Papers, published in 1773, by the late Lord Hardwicke, in 2 vols. 410. Letters from " Baby ** Charles's dear Dad and Gossip, James the First, and his slave ^' and dog, Steenie Buckingham," &c. &c. There are however some curious and valuable papers in the collection. The noble editor was a man of learning. ('v) " Mr. Lorkin doth use miraculous diligence about your ** Lordship's arrears." State Papers, vol- i. p. 631. N. B. It often requires miraculous diligence, even in these days, to g€t at one's arrears. See Mr. Pitt and the Lords of the Treasury, if j'ou can get a sight of them : I never could. ( 1 794). ('w) The Hon. Horace Walpole, now Lord Orford, theowncr ^f the Goihic mansion a5 Strawberry Hill cear Twickenham. r 76 3 Or on imperial foolscap with vignettes Engrave, like Staunton, my Chinese Gazettes ? Or (x) All books of all kinds are now advertised to be prlntecf ©n a nx)ire'