This book is DUE on the last date stamped below SEP 2 1959 ID SEP 23 1970 TO F'orm L-9-15m-8,'26 THE MIRROR. PERIODICAL PAPER, PUBLISHED AT EDINBURGH IN THE YEARS 1779 and 1780. Velutl In fpeculo. THE NINTH EDITION. INTWOVOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR A. STRAHAN, AND T. CADELL IN THE STRAND; AND W. CREECH, AT EDINBURGH. M DCC XCII. AT V. I CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. No, Page I . Introdu&ory paper. The reception which a work of this fort is liliely to meet with. Some account of the Author - and his intentions, - - - ] 2. Various opinions of the M i R RO R. overheard by the Author in the (hop of its Publimer, . .5 3. Of Beauty. Philofophical opinions of it : dire&ions for improving and preferving it, - - - 12 4. The effedls of a foreign education, in a letter from L. G. 18 5 . Of Pedantry. An extenfion of that phrafe ; various in- ftances of it, - . . _ . 2 $ 6 Seclufion and retirement from the world not inconfiftent with talents of fpirit ; charafter of Mr. Umpbraville, 32 7. The importance of Names in writing, in a letter from NOMENCLATOR, . - -38 8. The Muffulman's Mirror, its wonderful properties j in a letter from VITREUS, - . - 45 9. Cenfure of a particular piece of indecorum at the theatre, in a letter from A. W. with the Author's reflections upon it. - Note from IGNORAMUS, - - - 52 10. iv CONTENTS. No. Page 10. Effefts of exccffive delicacy and refinement; character of Mr. Fketwood, - - - - 59 1 1 . On Duelling. Regulations propofed ; ilory of Captain Douglas, . . -68 12. Confequence to little folks of intimacy with great ones, in a letter from JOHN HOMESPUN, - 76 13. Remarks on the poems of OJJian, - -83 14. On Indolence t - - -92 15. Of Education. A claffical contrafted with a fafhionable education, - 99 16. Of Spring. Effefts of that feafon on fome minds, - 107 17. Defcription of a fhopkeeper virtuofo, in a letter from his wife REBECCA PRUNE. Obfervations fuggefted by it, - - 112 18. Of national character. Comparifon of that of France and of England, - - 1 20 19. Some further particulars in the character of Mr. Umpbraviut, - - 127 20. On the acrimony of literary disputes ; narrative of a meeting between Syl by a Correfpondenf, Lord Hailes j the reft of the Paper, by Mr. Mackenzie. 22. By a Correfpondent. 23. Mr. Mackenzie. 24. A Correfpondent, Profeflbr Richardfon. 25. Mr. Mackenzie. 26. Mr. Craig. 27. Mr. Cullen. 28. Mr. M'Leod Bannatyne. 29. By a Correfpondent, Profeflbr Richardfon ; the fhort Note at the end, by Mr. Mackenzie. 30. Mr. Mackenzie. 31. Mr. Craig. 32. Mr. Mackenzie. 33. Mr. M'Leod Bannatyne. 34. Mr. Mackenzie. 35. A Correfpondent, Mr. D. Hume, now Profeflbr of Scots Law at Edinburgh, nephew of the celebrated David Hume. The Letter figned Bridget Nettleivit t by Mr. Mackenzie. 36. Mr. Craig. 37. A Correfpondent, Mr. Frazer Tytler. 38. Mr. Mackenzie. 39. Mr. Home. 40.. Mr. Mackenzie. 41. Mr. Mackenzie. 42. Mr. Mackenzie -, the Preamble, by Mr. Craig. 43. Mr. Mackenzie. 44. Mr. Mackenzie. 45. Mr. Abercromby. 46. A Correfpondent, Lord Hailes. The fliort Letter at the end, by Mr. M Dervife^ fo often, and with fuch fmall fatisfaction^ to my felf, that I am heartily fick of it. I^ave corifulted my Mirror, in the act of giving alms, expecting, 4$ T H E M I R R O R. N 8- expecting, no doubt, to fee myfelf charactered with the fofteft companion, and, behold ! I was iwollen and bloated with oftentation. Glowing with indignation, as I conceived, againft the vices of mankind, and their blindnefs to real merit, I have looked in the Mirror, and feen the rednefs of Anger, the flufhings of difap- pointed Ambition. Very lately, a friend of mine read me an eflay he had written ; he feemed to me fomewhat confcious of its merit : he ex- pected, and was intitled to fome applaufe ; but, fiid I to myfelf, " I will adminifter to n man's had been given " him, in the violence of his paflion, fnatched " up the tables, and hit Douglas a blow on the " head. The inftant he had done it, the idea " of his imprudence, and its probable confe- " quences to himfelf and his friend, rumed upon " his mind : he fat, ftupified with fhame and " remorfe, his eyes rivetted on the ground, re- ' gardlefs of what the other's refentment might " prompt him to ad. Douglas^ after a fhort " paufe, turned round to the fpectators : " You " think," faid he, " that I am now ready to " cut the throat of that unfortunate young man ; 1 but I know that, at this moment, he feels *' anguifh a thoufand times more keen than any ' my fword could inflict. I will embrace him ' thus and try to reconcile him to himfelf; 5 but I will cut the throat of that man among " you who fhall dare to breathe a fyllable againft " my honour." " Bravo ! Bravo !" cried an 1 old Chevalier de St. LOUISA who flood imme- " diately behind him. The fentiment of France " Overcame 76 THE MIRROR. N u. " overcame its habit, and Bravo ! Bravo ! echoed " from every corner of the room. Who would " not have cried Bravo ! Would not you, " Sir?" " Doubtlefs." " On other occafions, " then, be governed by the fame principle." " Why, to be fure, it were often better not " to fight if one had but the courage not to %ht." i N 12. SATURDAY, March 6, 1779. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, f AM a plain country-gentleman, with a fmall * fortune and a large family. My boys, all except the youngeft, I have contrived to fet out into the world in tolerably promifmg Situations. My two eldeft girls are married ; one to a clergy- man, with a very comfortable living, and a re- fpectable character ; the other to a neighbour of my own, who farms moft of his own eftate, and is fuppofed to know country-bufmefs as well as any man in this part of the kingdom, I have four N d 12. T H E M I R R O R. 77 four other girls at home, whom I wifh to make fit wives for men of equal rank with their brothers-in-law. About three months ago, a great lady in our neighbourhood (at leaft as neighbourhood is reckoned in our quarter) happened to meet the two eldeft of my unmarried daughters at the houfe of a gentleman, a diftant relation of mine, and, as well as myfelf, a freeholder in our county. The girls are tolerably handfome, and I have endeavoured to make them underftand the com- mon rules of good-breeding. My Lady ran out to my kinfman, who happens to have no children of his own, in praife of their beauty and politenefs, and, at parting, gave them a moft preffing invitation to come and fpend a week with her during the approaching Chriftmas holi- days. On my daughters' return from their kinfman's, I was not altogether pleafed at hear- ing of this invitation; nor was I more fatisfied with the very frequent quotations of my Lady *s fayings and fentiments, and the de- fcriptions of the beauty of her complexion, the elegance of her drefs, and the grandeur of her equipage. I oppofed, therefore, their defign of paying this Chriftmas viiit pretty warmly. Upon this, the honour done them by the invitation, the advantages to be derived from an acquaint- ance with the great Lady, and the benefit that might accrue to my family from the influence of 7 8 T H E M I R R O R. N 12. of her Lord, were immediately rung in my ears, not only by my daughters, but alfo by their mother, whom they had already gained over to their fide; and I muft own to you, Mr. MIR- ROR, though I would not have you think me hen-peck'd, that my wife, fomehow or other, contrives to carry moft points in our family ; fo my oppofition was over-ruled ; and to the girls went ; but not before they had made a journey to the metropolis of our country, and brought back a portmanteau full of neceflaries, to qualify them for appearing decently, as my wife faid, in the company they fhould meet there. In about a month, for their vifit was drawn out to that length, my daughters returned. But had you feen, Mr. MIRROR, what an alteration that month had made on them ! Inftead of the rofy complexions, and fparkling eyes, they had carried with them, they brought back cheeks as white as a curd, and eyes as dead as the beads in the face of a baby. I could not help expreffing my furprize at the fight ; but the younger of the two ladies im- mediately cut me fhort, by telling me that their complexion was the only one worn at And no wonder, Sir, it mould, from the de- fcription which my daughter fometimes gives us of the life people lead there. Inftead of rifing at Ni2. T H E M I R R O R. 79 at feven, breakfafting at nine, dining at three, flipping at eight, and getting to bed by ten, as was their cuftom at home, my girls lay till twelve, breakfafted at one, dined at fix, flipped at eleven, and were never in bed till three in the morning. Their fhapes had undergone as much alteration as their faces. From their bofoms (necks they called them), which were fqueezed up to their throats, their waift tapered down to a very ex- traordinary fmallnefs ; they refembled the upper half of an hour-glafs. At this, alfo, I mar- velled ; but it was the" only fhape worn at . Next day, at dinner, after a long morning preparation, they appeared with heads of fuch a fize, that my little parlour was not of height enough to let them ftand upright in it. This was the moft ftriking metamorphofis of all. Their mother ftared ; I ejaculated ; my other children burft out a laughing ; the anfwer was the fame as before ; it was the only head worn at < Nor is their behaviour lefs changed than their garb. Inftead of joining in the good-humoured cheerfulnefs we ufed to have among us before, my twojine young ladies check every approach to mirth, by calling it vulgar. One of them chid their brother the other day for laughing, and told him it was monftroufly ill-bred. In the evenings, when we were wont, if we had no- thing elfe to do, to fall to Blindman s-buff, or Crofs- 8o T H E M I R R O R. N f a. Crofs-purpofes , or fometimes to play at Loo for cherry-ftones, thefe two get a pack of cards to themfelves, and fit down to play for any little money their vifit has left them, at a game none of us know any thing about. It feems, indeed, the dulleft of all amufements, as it confifts in merely turning up the faces of the cards, and repeating their names from an ace upwards, as if the players were learning to fpeak, and had got only thirteen words in their vocabulary. But of this, and every other cuftom at , no- body is allowed to judge but themfelves. They have got a parcel of phrafes, which they utter on all occafions as decifive, French^ I believe, though I can fcarce find any of them in the Dictionary, and am unable to put them upon paper ; but all of them mean fomething extremely fafhionable, and are conftantly fupported by the authority of my Lady, or the Countefs, his Lordmip, or Sir John. As they have learned many foreign, fo have they unlearned fome of the moft common and beft underftood home phrafes. When one of my neighbours was lamenting the extravagance and diffipation of a young kinfman who had fpent his fortune, and loft his health in London, and at Newmarket, they called it life, and faid it mowed fpirit in the young man. After the fame rule they lately declared, that a gentleman could not live on lels than iooo/. a year, and called the N* 12. T H E M I R R O R. 3i the account which their mantua-maker and mil- liner fent me, for the fineries purchafed for their Yifit at , a trifle^ though it amounted to 59/. nx. 4*/. exactly a fourth part of the clear income of my eftate. All this, Mr. MIRROR, I look upon as a fort of peftilential diforder, with which my poor daughters have been infected in the courfe of this unfortunate vifit. This confideration has induced me to treat them hitherto with lenity and indulgence, and try to effect their cure by mild methods, which indeed fuit my temper (naturally of a pliant kind, as every body, except ray wife, fays) better than harfh ones. Yet I confefs, I could not help being in a paffion t'other day, when the diforder {hewed fymptoms of a more ferious kind. Would you believe it, Sir, my daughter Elizabeth (fmce her vifit fhe is offended if we call her Betty) faid it was fanatical to find fault with card-playing on Sunday ; and her fifter Sophia gravely aiked my fon-in-law, the clergy- man, if he had not fome doubts of the foul's immortality. As certain great cities, I have heard, are never free from the plague, and at laft come to look upon it as nothing terrible or extraordinary ; fo, I fuppofe, in London, or even your town, Sir, this difeafe always prevails, and is but little dreaded. But, in the country, it will be pro- ductive of melancholy effects indeed; if fuffered VOL. I. G to 82 T H E M I R R O R. N* la. to fpread there, it will not only embitter our lives', and fpoil our domeftic happinefs, as at prefent it does mine, but, in its mod violent ftages 7 will bring our eftates to market, our daughters to ruin, and our fons to the gallows. Be fo hu- mane, therefore, Mr. MIRROR, as to fuggefl fome expedient for keeping it confined within thofe limits in which it rages at prefent. If no public regulation can be contrived for that pur- pofe (though I cannot help thinking this difeafe of the great people merits the attention of go- vernment, as much as the diftemper among the horned cattle } 9 try, at leaft, the effeds of private admonition, to prevent the found from approach- ing the infe&ed ; let all little men like myfelf, and every member of their families, be cautious of holding intercourfe with the perfons or fa- milies of Dukes, Earls, Lords, Nabobs, or Con~ traffors^ till they have good reafon to believe that fuch perfons and their houfeholds are in a fane and healthy ftate, and in no danger of com- municating this dreadful diforder. And, if it has left fuch great and noble perfons any feelings- of companion, pray put them in mind of that well-known fable of the boys and the frogs, which they muft have learned at fchooL Tell them, Sir, that, though the making fools of their poor neighbours may ferve them for a Chriftmas gambol, it is matter of ferious wretch- ed aefs to thofe poor neighbours in the after- part N 12. T H E M I R R O R. 8j part of their lives : // is /port to them> but death to its. I am, &c. JOHN HOMESPUN. Z N 13. TUESDAY, March 9, 1779. H E antiquity of the poems afcribed to OJfian, the fon of Fingal, has been the fub- jedt of much difpute. The refined magnanimity and generofity of the heroes, and the tendernefs and delicacy of fentiment, with regard to wo- men, fo confpicuous in thofe poems, are cir- cumftances very difficult to reconcile with the rude and uncultivated age in which the poet is fuppofed to have lived. On the other hand, the intrinfic characters of antiquity which the poems bear ; that fimple ftate of fociety the poet paints ; the narrow circle of objects and tranfactions he defcribes ; his concife, abrupt, and figurative ftyle ; the abfence of all abftract ideas, and of all modern allufions, render it difficult to affign any other sera for their production than the age of Fingal. In fhort, there are difficulties on G 2 both 84 T H E M I R R O R. both fides ; and, if that remarkable refinement of manners feem inconfiftent with our notions of an unimproved age, the marks of antiquity with which the poems are flamped, make it very hard to fuppofe them a modern compofition. It is not, however, my intention to examine the merits of this controverfy, much lefs to hazard any judgment of my own. All I propofe is, to fuggeft one confideration on the fubject, which, as far as I can recollect, has hitherto efcaped the partizans of either fide. The elegant author of the Critical Differtation on the Poems of OJ/ian, has very properly obvi- ated the objections made to the uniformity of Offian's imagery, and the too frequent repeti- tion of the fame comparifons. He has fhewn, that this objection proceeds from a carelefs and inattentive perufal of the poems ; for, although the range of the poet's objects was not wide, and confequently the fame object does often re- turn, yet its appearance is changed ; the image is new ; it is prefented to the fancy in another attitude, and clothed with different circumftances, to make it fuit the illuftration for which it is employed. " In this," continues he, " lies " (Man's great art ;" and he illuftrates his re- mark by taking the inftances of the moon and of mifti two of the principal fubje&s of the bard's images and allufions. I agree N* ij. THE MIRROR. 85 I agree with this critic in his obfervations, though I think he has rather erred in afcribing to art in Oilian, that wonderful diverfification of the narrow circle of objects with which he was acquainted. It was not by any efforts of art or contrivance that Offian prefented the rude objects of nature under fo many different afpects. He wrote from a full heart, from a rich and glow- ing imagination. He did not feek for, and in- vent images ; he copied nature, and painted ob- jects as they ftruck and^ kindled his fancy. He had nothing within the range of his view, but the great features of fimple nature. The fun, the moon, the ftars, the defert heath, the wind- ing ftream, the green hill with all its roes, and the rock with its robe of mift, were the objects amidft which Oflian lived. Contemplating thefe, under every variety of appearance they could aflume, no wonder that his warm and impaf- fioned genius found in them a field fruitful of the moft lofty and fublime imagery. Thus the very circumftance of his having fuch a circumfcribed range of inanimate objects to at- tract his attention and exercife his imagination, was the natural and neceflary caufe of Oflian's being able to view and to defcribe them, under fuch a variety of great and beautiful appearances. And may we not proceed farther, and affirm, that fo rich a diversification of the few appear- ances of fimple nature, could hardly have oc- G 3 curred 36 THE MIRROR. N* 13. curred to the imagination of a poet living in any other than the rude and early age in which the fon of Fingal appeared ? In refined and polifhed fociety, where the works of art abound, the endlefs variety of ob- jects that prefent thernfelves, diftract and diffi- pate the attention. The mind is perpetually hurried from one object to another ; and no time is left to dwell upon the fublime and fimple ap- pearances of nature. A poet, in fuch an age, has a wide and diverfified circle of objects on which to exercife his imagination. He has a large and diffufed ftock of materials from which to draw images to embellifh his work ; and he does not always refort for his imagery to the diverfified appearance of the objects of rude na- ture ; he does not avoid thofe becaufe his tafte rejects them ; but he ufes them feldom, becaufe they feldom recur to his imagination. To feize thefe images, belongs only to the poet of an early and fimple age, where the un- divided attention has leifure to brood over the few, but fublime objects which furround him. Theyrt and the heath^ the rock and the torrent^ the clouds and meteors^ the thunder and lightning^ the fun and moon, zndjtars, are, as it were, the companions with which his imagination holds converfe, He perfonifies and addrefTes them : every afpect they can affume is imprefled upon his mind; he contemplates and traces them through N* 13. THE MIRROR. 87 through all the endlefs varieties of feafons ; and they are the perpetual fubjects of his images and allufions. He has, indeed, only a few objects around him ; but, for that very reafon, he forms a more intimate acquaintance with their every feature, and fhade, and attitude. From this circumftance, it would feem, that the poetical productions of widely-diftant pe- riods of fociety muft ever bear ftrong marks of the age which gave them birth ; and that it is not poffible for a poetical genius of the one age, to counterfeit and imitate the productions of the other. To the poet of a fimple age, the varied objects which prefent themfelves in cultivated fociety are unknown. To the poet of a refined age, the idea of imitating the productions of rude times might, perhaps, occur ; but the ex- ecution would certainly be difficult, perhaps im- practicable. To catch fome few tranfient afpects of any of the great appearances of nature, may he within the reach of the genius of any age ; but to perceive, and feel, and paint, all the fhades of a few fimple objects, and to make them cor- refpond with a great diverfity of fubjects, the poet muft dwell amidft them, and have them ever prefent to his mind. The excellent critic, whom I have already mentioned, has felected the inftances of the moon and of mift^ to {hew how much Offian has diverfified the' appearance of the few objects G 4 with it * 88 T H E M I R R Q R. N ij. with which he was encircled. I mall now con- clude this paper with felecting a third^ that of the Sun, which, I think, the bard has prefented in fuch a variety of afpects, as could have oc- curred to the imagination in no other than the early and unimproved age in which Oflian is fuppofed to have lived. The vanquifhed Frotbal, ftruck with the ge- nerous magnanimity of Fingal, addrefles him : c< Terrible art thou, O king of Morven, in battles of the fpears ; but, in peace, thou art like the fun, when he looks through a filent fhower ; the flowers lift their fair heads before him, and the gales make their ruftling wings." Of the generous open Cathmor^ expofed to the dark and gloomy Cairba, it is faid : " His face " was like the plain of the fun, when it is 44 bright : no darknefs travelled over his brow." Of Nat bos : " The foul of Nathos was ge- " nerous and mild, like the hour of the fetting " fun." Of young Connal, coming to feek the honour of the fpear : " The youth was lovely, " as the firft beam of the fun." - " O ! Fithil's " fon," fays Cuchullin, " with feet of wind, " fly over the heath of Lena. Tell to Fingal, " that Erin is enthrall'd, and bid the king of " Morven haften. O ! let him come like the 1 fun in a ftorm, when he mines on the hills of grafs." N" i3- THE MIRROR. 89 Nat/jos 9 anxious for the fate of Darthula : " The foul of Nathos was fad, like the fun in " the day of mift, when his face is watry and " dim." Of car, furrounded with foes, fore- feeing the fall of his race, and yet at times ga- thering hope : " At times, he was thoughtful and *' dark, like the fun when he carries a cloud on " his face ; but he looks afterward on the hills *' of Cona." Before Bofmina fent to offer them the peace of heroes : * e The hoft of Erra- " gon brightened in her prefence, as a rock be- " fore the fudden beams of the fun, when they s laft part of his progrefs, he mar- ried a poor girl, whom her father, from a mif- taken idea of his fortune, forced to facriiice her- felf to his wiflies. After a very fhort fpace, he grew too indifferent about her to ufe her ill, and broke her heart with the beft-natured negledl: in 156 T H E M I R R O R. N 2 j. in the world. Of two children whom he had by her, one died at nurfe foon after the death of its mother; the eldeft, a boy of fpirit like his father, after twice running away from fchool, was at laft fent aboard a Guinea-man^ and was knocked on the head by a failor, in a quarrel about a Negro wench, on the coaft of Africa. Generofity, however, was a part of his charac- ter, which he never forfeited. Befide lending money genteelly to many worthlefs companions, and becoming furety for every man who afked him, he didjbmc truly charitable actions to very deferving objects. Thefe were told to his ho- nour ; and people who had met with refufals from more confiderate men, fpoke of fuch ac- tions as the genuine teft of feeling and huma- nity. They mifmterpreted fcripture for indul- gence to his errors on account of his charity^ and extolled the goodnefs of his heart in every company where he was mentioned. Even while his mother, during her laft illnefs, was obliged to accept of money from her phyfician, becaufe {he could not obtain payment of her jointure, and while, after her deceafe, his two fifters were dunning him every day, without effect, for the fmall annuity left them by their father, he was called a good-hearted man by three-fourths of his acquaintance ; and when, after having pawned their clothes, rather than diftrefs him, thofe fifters commenced a lawfuit to force him to do them N* 23* T H E M I R R O R. 157 them juftice, the fame impartial judges pro- nounced them bard-hearted and unnatural: nay, the ftory is ftill told to their prejudice, though they now prevent their brother from ftarving, out of the profits of a little fhop which they were then obliged to fet up for their fupport. The abufe of the terms ufed by my friend, in regard to the character of this unfortunate man, would be fufficiently ftriking from the relation I have given, without the neceflity of my offer- ing any comment on it. Yet the mifapplication of them is a thoufand times repeated by people who have known and felt inftances, equally glaring, of fuch injuftice. It may feem invidious to leflen the praifes of any praife- worthy quality ; but it is eflential to the interefts of virtue, that infenfibility mould not be allowed to afTume the title of good-nature^ nor profufion to ufurp the honours of generojity. The effect of fuch mifplaced and ill-founded indulgence is hurtful in a double degree. It en- courages the evil which it forbears to cenfure, and difcourages the good qualities which are found in men of decent and fober characters. If we look into the private hiftories of unfortu- nate families, we (hall find moft of their calami- ties to have proceeded from a neglect of the ufe- ful duties of fobriety, ceconomy, and attention to domeftic concerns, which, though they mine not in the eye of the world, nay, are often fub- ject THE MIRROR. N 23. jec~t to its obloquy, are jet the fureft guardians of virtue, of honour, and of independence. Be jnjl before you are generous, is a good old proverb, which the profligate hero of a much- admired comedy is made to ridicule, in a well- turned, and even a fentimental period. But what right have thole fquanderers of their .own and other men's fortunes to affume the merit of generofity f Is parting with that money, which they value fo little, generofity? Let them re- flrain their diflipation, their riot, their debauch- ery, w r hen they are told that thefe bring ruin on the perfons and families of the honeft and the induftrious ; let them facrifice one pleafure to humanity, and then tell us of their generofity and their feeling. A tranfient inftance, in which the prodigal relieved want with his purfe, or the thoughtlefs debauchee promoted merit by his intereft, no more deferves the appellation of generojity, than the rafhnefs of a drunkard is en- titled to the praifes of valour, or the freaks of a madman to the laurels of genius. In the character of a man, confidered as a being of any refpect at all, we immediately fee a relation to his friends, his neighbours, and his country. His duties only confer real dignity^ and, what may not be fo eafily allowed, but is equally true, can beftow real pleafure. I know not an animal more infignificant, or lefs happy, than a man without any ties of affection, or any N 23. THE MIRROR. 159 any exercife of duty. He rauft be very forlorn, or very defpicable, indeed, to whom it is pof- fible to apply the phrafe ufed by my friend, in characterizing the perfon \vhofe ftory I have re- lated above, and to fay, that he is no ones enemy but bis V N 24, SATURDAY, April 17, 1779. Ncm fatis eft pulchra efle poemata; dalcia funto. HOR. XT AT u RE is for- ever before us. We can, as often as we pleafe, contemplate the va- riety of her productions, and feel the power of her beauty. We may feaft our imaginations with the verdure of waving groves, the diverfi- fied colours of an evening fky, or the windings of a limpid river. We may dwell with rapture on thofe more fublime exhibitions of nature, the raging tempeft, the billowy deep, or the ftu- pendous precipice, that lift the foul with de- lightful amazement, and feem almoft to fufpend her exertions. Thefe beautiful and vaft appear- ances are fo capable of affording pleafure, that they become favourite fubjects with the poet and the painter 5 they charm us in defcription, 7 or i6o THE MIRROR. N 24. or they glow upon canvas. Indeed, the imita- tions of eminent artifts have been held on an equal footing, in regard to the pleafure they yield, with the works of Nature herfelf, and have fometimes been deemed fuperior. This fubject deferves attention ; how it happens^ that the defcriptions of the poet, and the imitations of the painter, feem to communicate more de- light than the things they defcribe or imitate. In eftimating the refpedive merits of nature and of art, it will readily be admitted, that the preference, in every fingle object, is due to the former. Take the fimpleft bloflbm that blows, obferve its tints or its flruclure, and you will own them unrivalled. What pencil, how ani- mated foever, can equal the glories of the fky at fun-fet ? or can the repreferitations of moon- light, even by Homer, Milton, and Shakefpeare, be more exquifitely finimed than the real fcenery of a moon-light night ? If the poet and painter are capable of yield- ing fuperior pleafure, in their exhibitions, to what we receive from the works of their great original, it is in the manner of grouping their obje&s, and by their ikill in arrangement. la particular, they give uncommon delighr, by at- tending not merely to unity of defign, but to unity, if I may be allowed the expreffion, in the feelings they would excite. In the works of Nature, unlefs (he has been ornamented and re- formed N e 24. T H E M I R R O R. formed ky the tafte of an ingenious improver, intentions of this fort are very feldom apparent. Objects that are gay, melancholy, folemn, tran- quil, impetuous, and fantaftic, are thrown to- gether, without any regard to the influences of arrangement, or to the confiftency of their ef- fects on the mind. The elegant artift, on the contrary, though his works be adorned with unbounded variety, fuggefts only thofe objects that excite fimilar or kindred emotions, and ex- cludes every thing of an oppofite, or even of a different tendency. If the fcene he defcribes be folemn, no lively nor fantaftic image can have admiffion : but if r in a fprightly mood, he di- plays fcenes of feftivity, every penfive and gloomy thought is debarred. Thus the figures he delineates have one undivided direction; they make one great and entire impreffion. To illuftrate this .remark, let us obferve the conduct of Milton in his two celebrated poems, Allegro, and // Penferofo. In the Allegro, meaning to excite a cheerful mood, he fuggefts a variety of objects ; for va- riety, by giving confiderable exercife to the mind, and by not fuffering it to reft long on the fame appearance, occafions brifk and exhilarating emotions. Accordingly, the poet fhews us, at one glance, and, as it were, with a fmgle dafh of his pen, VOL. I. M Ruflet i6a T H E M I R R O R. N 24; Ruflet lawns, and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do ftray, Mountains, on whofe barren breaft The labouring clouds do often reft j Meadows trim with daifies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide. The objects themfelves are cheerful ; for, be- fides having brooks, meadows, and flowers, we have the whittling ploughman, the fmging milk- maid, the mower whetting his fcythe, and the fhepherd piping beneath a made. Thefe images, fo numerous, fo various, and fo cheerful, are animated by lively contrafts : we have the moun- tains oppofed to the meadows, " Shallow brooks " and rivers wide." Add to this, that the charms of the landfcape are heightened by the bloom of a fmiling feafon ; and that the light poured upon the whole is the delightful radiance of a fummer morning : Right againft the eaftern gate, Where the great Sun begins his ftate, Rob'd in flames of amber light, The clouds in thoufand liv'ries dight. Every image is lively ; every thing different is with-held ; all the emotions the poet excites are of one character and complexion. Let us now obferve the conduct of his // Pen- ferofo. This poem is, in every refpect, an exact counterpart to the former. And the intention of the poet being to promote a ferious and folemn mood, he removes every thing lively ; " Hence, " vain N 24. THE MIRROR. 163 " vain deluding joys!" He quits fociety; he chufes filence, and opportunities for deep reflec- tion ; " Some ftill removed place will fit.'* The objects he prefents are few. In the quotation, beginning with " Ruflet lawns," there are eight leading images : in the following, of equal length, there is only one. To behold the wandring moon, Riding near her higheft noon, Like one that had been led aftray Through the heav'n's wide pathlefs way ; And oft, as if her head fhe bow'd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. The founds that can be, in any refpec"t, agreeable to him, muft correfpond with his prefent hu- mour : not the fong of the milk-maid, but that of the nightingale ; not the whittling ploughman, but the found of the curfeu. His images fuc- ceed one another (lowly, without any rapid or abrupt tranfitions, without any enlivening con- trafts ; and he will have no other light for his landfcape than that of the moon*: or, if he can- not enjoy the fcene without doors, he will have no other light within, than that of dying embers, or of a folitary lamp at midnight. The time, and the place he chufes for his retreat, are per- fectly fuited to his employment ; for he is en- gaged in deep meditation, and in confidering What worlds, or what vaft regions, hold Th' immortal mind. M 2 Every 164 T H E M I R R O R. N 24. Every image is folemn, every thing different is with-held : here, as before, all the emotions the poet excites are of one character and complexion. It is owing, in a great meafure, to this attention in the writer, to preferve unity and confiftency of fentiment, that, notwithftanding confiderable imperfections in the language and verification, Allegro and // Penferofo have fo many admirers. The fkill of the poet and painter, in forming their works fo as to excite kindred and united emotions, deferves the greater attention, that perfons of true tafte are not fo much affected, even in contemplating the beauties of nature, with the mere perception of external objects, as with the general influences of their union and correfpondence." It is not that particular tree, or that cavern, or that cafcade, which affords them all their enjoyment ; they derive their chief pleafure from the united effect of the tree, the cavern, and the cafcade. A perfon of fenfi- bility will be lefs able, perhaps, than another, to give an exact account of the different parts of an exquifite landfcape, of its length, width, and the number of objects it contains. Yet the general effect poffeffes him altogether, and produces in his mind very uncommon fenfations. The im- pulfe, however, is tender, and cannot be de* fcribed. Indeed, it is the power of producing thefe fenfations that gives the ftamp of genuine excellence, in particular, to the works of the poet. N 24. THE MIRROR. 165 poet. Verfes may be polifhed, and may glow with excellent imagery ; but unlefs, like the poems of Parnel, or the lefler poems of Milton, they pleafe by their enchanting influence on the heart, and by exciting feelings that are confid- ent, or of a fimilar tendency, they are never truly delightful. Horace, I think, exprefles this fentiment, when he fays, in the words of my motto, Non fatis eft pulchra efle poemata ; dulcia funto ; and an attention to this circumftance is fo im- portant, that, along with fome other exertions, it enables the poet and painter, at leaft, to rival the works of Nature. N 25. TUESDAY, April 20, 1779. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, o M E time ago I troubled you with a letter, giving an account of a particulart fort of grievance, felt by the families of men of fmall fortunes, from their acquaintance with thofe of great ones. I am emboldened, by the favourable reception of my firft letter, to write you a fecond upon the fame fubject. M 3 You 166 T H E M I R R O R. N 25, You will remember, Sir, my account of a vifit which my daughters paid to a great lady in our neighbourhood, and of the effe&s which that vifit had upon them. I was beginning to hope that time, and the fobriety of manners which home exhibited, would reftore them to their former fituation, when, unfortunately, a circumftance happened, ftill more fatal to me than their expedition to . This, Sir, was the honour of a vifit from the great lady in re- turn. I was juft returning from the fuperintendence of my ploughs in a field I have lately inclofed, when I was met, on the green before my door, by a gentleman (for fuch I took him to be) mounted upon a very handfome gelding, who afked me, by the appellation of bonefl friend^ if this was not Mr. Homefpuns ; and, in the fame breath, whether the ladies were at home ? I told him, my name was Homefpim^ the houfe was mine, and my wife and daughters were, I be- lieved, within. Upon this, the young man, pulling off his hat, and begging my pardon for calling me honeft, faid, he was difpatched by Lady , with her compliments to Mrs. and Mifies Homefpun, and that, if convenient, me intended herfelf the honour of dining with them, on her return from B park (the feat of another great and rich lady in our neighbour- hood). I con- N 25. T H E M I R R O R. 167 I confefs, Mr. MIRROR, I was ftruck fome- what of an heap with the meflage ; and it would not, in all probability, have received an imme- diate anfwer, had it not been overheard by my eldeft daughter, who had come to the window on the appearance of a ftranger. " Mr. Papillot" faid {he immediately, " I rejoice to fee you; I " hope your Lady and all the family are well." " Very much at your fervice, Ma'am," he re- plied, with a low bow ; " my Lady fent me be- " fore, with the offer of her beft compliments, " and that, if convenient" and fo forth, re- peating his words to me. " She does us infinite " honour," faid my young Madam ; " let her Ladyfhip know how happy her vifit will make us ; but, in the mean time, Mr. Papillot^ give your horfe to one of the fervants, and come " in and have a glafs of fomething after your " ride." " I am afraid," anfwered he (pulling out his right-hand watch, for, would you be- lieve it, Sir? the fellow had one in each fob), * c I {hall hardly have time to meet my Lady at " the place {he appointed me." On a fecond in- vitation, however, he difmounted, and went into the houfe, leaving his horfe to the care of the fervants ; but the fervants, as my daughter very well knew, were all in the fields at work; fo I, who have a liking for a good horfe, and cannot bear to fee him neglected, had the honour of putting Mr, Papilhfs in the ftable myfelf. M 4 After 168 T H E M I R R O R. N 25. After about an hour's ftay, for the gentle- man feemed to forget his hurry within doors, Mr. Papillot departed. My daughters, I mean the two polite ones, obferved how handfome he was ; and added another obfervation, that it was only to particular friends my Lady fent meflages by him, who was her own body fervant, and not accuftomed to fuch offices. My wife feemed highly pleafed with this laft remark: I was about to be angry ; but on fuch occafions it is not my way to fay much ; I generally fhrug up my fhoulders in filence ; yet, as I faid before, Mr. MIRROR, 1 would not have you think me hen- peck'd. By this time, every domeftic about my houfe, male and female, were called from their feveral employments to affift in the preparations for her Ladyfhip's reception. It would tire you to enu- merate the various fhifts that were made, by purchafing, borrowing, &c. to furnifh out a dinner fuitable to the occafion. My little grey poney, which I keep for fending to market, broke his wind in the caufe, and has never been good for any thing fince. Nor was there lefs ado in making ourfelves and our attendants fit to appear before fuch company. The female part of the family ma- naged the matter pretty eafily ; women, I ob- ferve, having a natural talent that way. My wife took upon herfelf the charge of apparelling me NO 25. THE MIRROR. 169 me for the occafion. A laced fuit, which I had worn at my marriage, was got up for the pur- pofe ; but the breeches burft a feam at the very firft attempt of pulling them on, and the fleeves of the coat were alfo impracticable ; fo me was forced to content herfelf with clothing me in my Sunday's coat and breeches, with the laced waift- coat of the above-mentioned fuit, flit in the back, to fet them off a little. My gardener, who has been accuftomed, indeed, to ferve in many ca- pacities, had his head cropped, curled, and pow- dered, for the part of butler ; one of the beft- looking plough-boys had a yellow cape clapped to his Sunday's coat to make him pafs for a ier- vant in livery ; and we borrowed my fon-m-law, the parfon's man, for a third hand. All this was accompliihed, though not with- out fome tumult and diibrder, before the arrival of the great lady. She gave us, indeed, more time for the purpofe than we looked for, as it was near fix o'clock before me arrived. But this was productive of a misfortune on the other hand ; the dinner my poor wife had buftled fweated, and fcolded for, .was fo over-boiled over-ftewed, and over-roafted, that it needed the appetite of fo late an hour to make it go well down even with me, who am not very nice in, thefe matters : luckily her Ladyfhip, as I am told, never eats much, for fear of fpoiling her fhape, now that fmall waifts have come into faihion again. The 170 THE MIRROR. N a$. The dinner, however, though fpoiled in the cooking, was not thrown away, as her Lady- fhip's train made mift to eat the greateft part of it. When I fay her train , I do not mean her fervants only, of which there were half a dozen in livery, befides the illuftrious Mr. Papillot^ and her Ladymip's maid, gentlewoman I fhould fay, who had a table to themfelves. Her par- lour-attendants were equally numerous, confift- irig of two ladies and fix gentlemen, who had accompanied her Ladyfhip in this excurfion, and did us the honour of coming to eat and drink with us, and bringing their fervants to do the fame, though we had never feen or heard of them before. During the progrefs of this entertainment, there were feveral little embarraflments which might appear ridiculous in defcription, but were matters of ferious diftrefs to us. Soup was fpill- ed, dimes overturned, and glaffes broken, by the awkwardnefs of our attendants ; and things \vere not a bit mended by my wife's folicitude (who, to do her juftice, had all her eyes about her) to correct them. From the time of her Ladyfhip's arrival, it was impoffible that dinner could be over before it was dark ; this, with the confideration of the bad road fhe had to pafs through in her way to the next houfe Ihe meant to vifit, produced an invitation from my wife and daughters to pafs the NO 25. THE MIRROR. i/i the night with us ; which, after a few words of apology for the trouble fhe gave us, and a few more of the honour we received, was agreed to. This gave rife to a new fcene of preparation, rather more difficult than that before dinner. My wife and I xvere diflodged from our own apartment, to make room for our noble gueft. Our four daughters were crammed in by us, and flept on the floor, that their rooms might be left for the two ladies and four of the gentle- men who were entitled to the greateft degree of -refpet ; for the remaining two, we found "beds at my fon-in-law's. My two eldeft daughters had, indeed, little time to fleep, being clofetted the greateft part of the night with their right honourable vifitor. My offices were turned topfy-turvy for the accommodation of the fer- vants of my guefts, and my own horfes turned into the fields, that theirs might occupy my ftable. All thefe are hardships of their kind, Mr. MIRROR, which the honour that accompanies them feems to me not fully to compenfate ; but thefe are flight grievances, in comparifon with what I have to complain of as the effects of this vifit. The malady of my two eldeft daughters is not only returned with increafed violence upon them, but has now communicated itfelf to every other branch of my family. My wife, formerly a decent difcreet woman, who liked her own way, 172 T H E M I R R O R. N 25. way, indeed, but was a notable manager, now talks of this and that piece of expence as necef- fary to the rank of a gentlewoman, and has lately dropped fome broad hints, that a winter in town is neceflary to the accomplifhment of one. My two younger daughters have got the beads that formerly belonged to their elder fill- ers, to each of whom, unfortunately, the great lady prefented a fet of feathers, for which new beads were eflentially requifite. The infide of all of them has undergone a very finking metamorphoiis, from this one night's inflru&ion of their vifitor. There is, it feems, a famion in morality^ as well as in drefs ; and the prefent mode is not quite fo ftraight-lac'd as the flays are. My two fine la- dies .talked, a few mornings ago, of fuch a gen- tleman's connection with Mifs C , and fuch another's arrangement with Lady G , with all the eafe in the world : yet thefe words, I find, being interpreted, mean nothing lefs than fornication and adultery. I fometimes remon- flrate warmly, efpecially when I have my fon- in-law to back me, againft thefe new-fangled freedoms ; but another doctrine they have learned is, that a father and a parfon may preach as they pleafe, but are to be followed only according to the inclination of their audience. Indeed I could not help obferving, that my Lady never mentioned her abfent Lord (who, I un- derftand, N* 25. THE MIRROR. 173 derftand, is feldom of her parties), except fome- times to let us know how much fhe differed in opinion from him. This contempt of authority, and affectation of famion, has gone a ftep lower in my houfe- hold. My gardener has tied his hair behind, and ftolen my flour to powder it, ever fince he faw Mr. Paplllot ; and yefterday he gave me warning that he mould leave me next term, if I did not take him into the houfe, and provide another hand for the work in the garden. I found a great hoyden, who wafhes my daughters linens, fitting, the other afternoon, dreffed in one of their caft fly-caps, entertaining this fame oaf of a gardener, and the wives of two of my farm-fervants, with tea, forfooth ; and when I quarrelled her for it, fhe replied, that Mrs. Dimmlty^ my Lady 's gentlewoman, told her all the maids at had tea, and faw company of an afternoon. But I am refolved on a reformation, Mr. MIRROR, and lhall let my wife and daughters know, that I will be mafter of my own houfe and my own expences, and will neither be made a fool or a beggar, though it were after the manner of the greateft Lord in Chriftendom. Yet I confefs I am always for trying gentle methods firft. I beg, therefore, that you will infert this in your next paper, and add to it fome exhortations of your own to prevail on i them, 174 T H E M I R R O R. N" 25. them, if poffible, to give over a behaviour, which I think, under favour, is rather improper even in great folks, but it is certainly ruinous to little ones. I am, &c. JOHN HOMESPUN. Mr. Homefpun's relation, too valuable to be fhortened, leaves me not room at prefent for any obfervations. But I have feen the change of manners among fome of my countrywomen, for feveral years paft, with the moft fenfible regret ; and I intend foon to devote a paper to a ferious remonftrance with them on the fub- jeft. N 26. SATURDAY, April 24, 1779. o T H i N G can give a truer picture of the manners of any particular age, or point out more ftrongly thofe circumftances which di- flinguifli it from others, than the change that takes place in the rules eftablifhed as to the ex- ternal conduct of men in fociety, or in what may be called the fyilem of politenefs. It N 26. THE MIRROR. 17$ It were abfurd to fay, that from a man's ex- ternal conduct, we are always to judge of the feelings of his mind ; but, certainly, when there are rules laid down for men's external beha- viour to one another, we may conclude, that there are fome general feelings prevalent among the people which dictate thofe rules, and make a deviation from them to be confidered as im- proper. When at any time, therefore, an' al- teration in thofe general rules takes place, it is reafonable to fuppole that the change has been produced by fome alteration in the feelings, and in the ideas of propriety and impropriety of the people. Whoever confiders the rules of external be- haviour eftabliihed about a century ago, muft be convinced, that much lefs attention was then paid by men of high rank to the feelings of thofe beneath them, than in the prefent age; In that sera, a man ufed to meafure out his pom- plaifance to others according to the degree of rank in which they ftood, compared with his own. A Peer had a certain manner of addrefs and falutation to a Peer of equal rank, a dif- ferent one to a Peer of an inferior order, and, to a commoner, the mode of addrefs was di- verfified according to the antiquity of his family, or the extent of his pofleffions ; fo that a ftranger, who happened to be prefent at the levee of a great man, could, with tolerable certainty, by examining 176 THE MIRROR. N 26. examining his features, or attending to the low- nefs of his bow, judge of the different degrees of dignity among his vifitors. Were it the purpofe of the prefent paper, this might be traced back to a very remote period. By the Ear! of Northumberland^ houfehold book, begun in the year 15 1 2, it appears that my Lord's board-end, that is to fay, the end of the table where he and his principal guefts were feated, was ferved with a different and more delicate fort of viands, than thofe allotted to the lower end. " // is thought good" fays that curious record, that no pluvers be brought at no time but only In Chrijlmas, and principal feafts, and my Lord to be ferved therewith, and his board-end, and no " other" The line of diftindion was marked by a large faltcellar, placed in the middle of the table, above which, at my Loras board-end, fat the diftinguimed guefts, and below it thofe of an inferior clafs. In this country, and in a period nearer our own times, we have heard of a Highland chief- tain, who died not half a century ago, remark- able for his hofpitality, and for having his table conftantly crowded with a number of guefts ; poffeffmg a high idea of the dignity of his family, and warmly attached to ancient manners, he was in ufe very nicely to difcriminate, by his beha- viour to them, the ranks of the different perfons he entertained. The head of the table was oc- cupied N 26 . THE MIRROR. 177 cupied by himfelf, and the reft of the company fat nearer or more remote from him according to their refpective ranks. All, indeed, were allowed to partake of the 'fame food ; but when the liquor was produced, which was, at that time, and perhaps ftill is, in fome parts of Scot- land, accounted the principal part of a feaft, a dif- ferent fort of beverage was afligned to the guefts, according to their different dignities. The chief- tain himfelf, and his family, or near relations, drank wine of the beft kind ; to perfons next in degree, was allotted wine of an inferior fort ; and to guefts of a ftill lower rank, were allowed only thofe liquors which were the natural pro- duce of the country. This diftin&ion was agree- able to the rules of politenefs at that time efta- blifhed : the entertainer did not feel any thing difagreeable in making it ; nor did any of the entertained think themfelves entitled to take this treatment amifs. It muft be admitted, that a behaviour of this fort would not be confonant to the rules of po- litenefs eftablimed in the prefent age. A man of good breeding now confiders the fame degree of attention to be due to every man in the rank of a gentleman, be his fortune, or the antiquity of his family, what it may ; nay, a man of real politenefs will feel it rather more incumbent on him to be attentive and complaifant to his in- feriors in thcfe refpe&s, than to his equals. VOL, i. The THE MIRROR. N* 16. The idea which in modern times is entertained of politenefs, points out fuch a conduct. It is founded on this, that a man of a cultivated mind is taught to feel a greater degree of pleafure in at- tending to the eafe and happinefs of people with whom he mixes in fociety, than in ftudying his own. On this account he gives up what would be agreeable to his own tafte, becaufe he finds more fatisfadion in humouring the tafte of others. Thus, a gentleman now-a-days takes the lowefl place at his own table ; and, if there be any de- licacy there, it is fet apart for his guefts. The entertainer finds a much more fenfible pleafure in beftowing it on them, than in taking it to himfelf. From the fame caufe, if a gentleman be in company with another, not fo opulent as him- felf, or, however worthy, not poflefled of the fame degree of thofe adventitious honours which are held in efteem by the world, politenefs will teach the former to pay peculiar attention and obfervation to the latter. Men, even of the higheft minds, when they are firft introduced into company with their fuperiors in rank or fortune, are apt to feel a certain degree of awk- wardnefs and uneafinefs which it requires fome time and habit to wear off. A man of fortune or of rank, if poflefled of a fenfible mind and real politenefs, will feel, and be at particular pains to remove this. Hence he will be led to be N" 26. T H E M I R R O R. 179 be rather more attentive to thofe who, in the eyes of the multitude, are reckoned his inferiors, than to others who are more upon a footing with him. It is not propofed, in this paper, to inquire what are the caufes of the difference of men's ideas, as to the rules of politenefs in this and the former age. It is fufficient to obferve, and the reflection is a very pleafant one, that the modern rules of good-breeding muft give us a higher idea of the humanity and refinement of this age than of the former ; and, though the mode of behaviour above mentioned may not be univerfally obferved in practice, yet it is hoped it will not be difputed, that it is confonant to the rules which are now pretty generally efta- blifhed. It ought, however, to be obferved, that when we fpeak, even at this day, of good-breeding, of politenefs, of complaifance, thefe expreffions are always confined to our behaviour towards thofe who are coniidered to be in the rank of gentlemen ; but no fyftem of politenefs or of complaifance is eftablifhed, at leaft in this coun- try, for our behaviour to thofe of a lower ftation. The rules of good breeding do not extend to them ; and he may be efteemed the beft-bred man in the world who is a very brute to his fer- vants and dependants. N 2 This i8o T H E M I R R O R. N 2$. This I cannot help confidering as a matter of regret, and it were to be wimed that the fame humanity and refinement, which recommends an equal attention to all in the rank of gentlemen, would extend fome degree of that attention to thofe who are in ftations below them. It will require but little obfervation to be fatisfied, that all men, in whatever fituation, are endowed with the fame feelings (though education or example may give them a different modification) ; and that one in the loweft rank of life may be fenfible of a piece of infolence, or an affront, as well as one in the higheft. Nay, it ought to be confidered, that the greater the difproportion of rank, the affront will be the more fenfibly felt ; the greater the diftance from which it comes, and the more unable the perfon affronted to revenge it, by fo much the heavier will it fall. It is not meant, that in our tranfa&ions with men of a very low ftation, and who, from their circumftances, and the wants of fociety, muft be employed in fervile labour, we are to behave, in all refpefts, as to thofe who are in the rank of gentlemen. The thing is impoflible, and fuch men do not expect it. But in all our inter- courfe with them, we ought to confider that they are men poffeffed of like feelings with our- felves, which nature has given them, and which no fituation can or ought to eradicate. When we N 26. THE MIRROR. 181 we employ them in the labour of life, it ought to be our ftudy to demand that labour in the manner eafieft to them j and we mould never for- get that gentlenefs is part of the 'wages we owe them for their fervice. Yet how many men, in other refpects of the beft and moft refpectable characters, are, from in- advertency, or the force of habit, deaf to thofe confiderations ! and, indeed, the thing has been fo little attended to, that in this, which has been called a polite age, complaifance to fervants and dependants is not, as I have already obferved, at leaft in this country, confidered as making any part of politenefs. But there is another fet of perfons ftill more expofed to be treated roughly than even do- meftic fervants, and thefe are, the waiters at inns and taverns. Between a mafter and fer- vant a certain connection fubfifts, which pre- vents the former from ufmg the latter very ill. The fervant, if he is good for any thing, na- turally forms an attachment to his mafter, and to his intereft, which produces a mutual inter- courfe of kindnefs between them. But no con- nection of this fort can be formed with the temporary attendants above mentioned. Hence the monftrous abufe which fuch perfons fre- quently fuffer ; every traveller, and every man who enters a tavern, thinks he is entitled to vent his own ill-humour upon them, and vollies N 3 of. x8a THE MIRROR. N* 26. of curfes are too often the only language they meet with. Having mentioned the waiters in inns and taverns, I cannot avoid taking particular notice of the treatment to which thofe of the female fex, who are employed in places of that fort, are often expofed. Their fituation is, indeed, pecu- liarly unfortunate. If a girl in an inn happen to be handfome, and a parcel of young thought- lefs fellows caft their eyes upon her, me is im- mediately made the fubject of taunt and merri- ment ; coarfe and indecent jokes are often ut- tered in her hearing, and converfation mocking to modeft ears is frequently addrefled to her. The poor girl, all the while, is at a lofs how to behave ; if me venture on a fpirited anfwer, the probable confequencc will be, to raife the mirth of the facetious company, and to expofe her to a repetition of infults. If, guided by the feelings of modefty, me avoid the prefence of the impertinent guefts, me is complained of for neglecting her duty ; fhe lofes the little per- quifite which, otherwife, fhe would be entitled to ; perhaps difobliges her miftrefs, and lofes her place. Whoever attends but for a moment to the cafe of a poor girl fo fituated, if he be not loft to all fenfe of virtue, muft feel his heart re- lent at the cruelty of taking advantage of fuch a fituation. But the misfortune is, that we fel- dom attend to fuch cafes at all ; we fometimes think N* 2.6. THE MIRROR. iSj think of the fatigues and fufFerings incident to the bodies of our inferiors ; but we fcarcely ever allow any fenfe of pain to their minds. Among the French, whom we mimic in much falfc politenefs, without learning from them, as we might do, much of the true, the obfervances of good-breeding are not confined merely to gentlemen, but extend to perfons of the loweft ranks. Thus a Frenchman hardly ever addrefles any man, however mean his condition, without calling him Monfteur, and the pooreft woman in a county village is addrefled by the appellation of Madame. The accofting, in this manner, people of fo very low a rank, in the fame terms with thofe fo much their fupgriors, may perhaps appear extravagant ; but the practice {hews how much that refined and elegant people are atten- tive to the feelings of the meaneft, when they have extended the rules and ceremonial of polite- nefs even to thena. T H E M I R R O R. N 27. N 27. TUESDAY,, April 27, 1779. There is a kind of mournful eloquence In thy dumb grief, which {names all clamorous forrow. LEE'S THEODOSIUS. A VERY amiable and much refpe&ed friend * ^ of mine, whofe real name I mall con- ceal under that of Wentwortb, had lately the misfortune of lofmg a wife, who was not only peculiarly beautiful, but whofe foul was the maniion of every virtue, and of every elegant accomplimment. She was fuddenly cut off in the flower of her age, after having lived twelve years with the beft and moft affectionate of hufbands. A perfect fimilarity of temper and difpofition, a kindred delicacy of tafte and fentiment, had linked their hearts together in early youth, and each fucceeding year feemed but to add new ftrength to their affection. Though pofleffed of an affluent fortune, they preferred the tranquillity of the country to all the gay pleafures of the capital. In the culti- vation of their eftate, in cherifhing the vir- tuous induftry of its inhabitants, in ornament- ing a beautiful feat, in the fociety of one an- other, in the innocent prattle of their little children, N* ay. THE MIRROR. 185 children, and in the company of a few friends, Mr. Wentwortb and his Amelia found every wiflx gratified, and their happinefs complete. My readers will judge then, what muft have been Mr. Wentworth's feelings, when Amelia was thus fuddenly torn from him, in the very prime of her life, and in the midft of her felicity. I dreaded the effects of it upon a mind of his nice and delicate fenfibility ; and, receiving a letter from his brother, requefting me to come to them, I hafted thither, to endeavour, by my prefence, to afliiage his grief, and prevent thofe fatal confequences of which I was fo ap- prehenfive. As I approached the houfe, the fight of all the well-known fcenes brought frefh into my mind the remembrance of Amelia; and I felt myfelf but ill qualified to act the part of a comforter. When my carriage flopt at the gate, I trembled, and would have given the world to go back. A heart-felt forrow fat on the countenance of every fervant ; and I walked into the houfe without a word being uttered. In the hall I was met by the old butler, who has grown grey-headed in the family, and he haftened to conduct: me up flairs. As I walked up, I commanded firmnefs enough to fay, " Well, William, how is Mr. Went- c worth ?" The old man, turning about with a look that pierced my heart, faid, " Oh, Sir, " our i86 T H E M I R R O R. N a;. " our excellent Lady !" Here his grief overwhelmed him ; and it was with difficulty he was able to open to me the door of the apart- ment. Mr. Wentworth ran and embraced me with the warmeft affection ; and, after a few mo- ments, affumed a firmnefs, and even an eafe, that furprifed me. His brother, with a fifter of Amelia's, and fome other friends that were in the room, appeared more overpowered than my friend himfelf, who, by the fortitude of his behaviour, feemed rather to moderate the grief of thofe around him, than to demand their compaffion for himfelf. By his gentle and kind attentions, he feemed anxious to re- lieve their forrow ; and, by a fort of concerted tranquillity, ftrove to prevent their difcovering any fymptoms of the bitter anguifh which preyed upon his mind. His countenance was pale, and his eyes betrayed that his heart was ill at eafe ; but it was that filent and majeftic for- row which commands our reverence and our admiration. Next morning, after breakfaft, I chanced to take up a volume of Metaftafio, that lay amongft other books upon a table; and as I was turning over the leaves, a flip of paper, with fomething written on it, dropped upon the floor. Mr. Wentworth picked it up; and is he looked at it, I faw the tears ftart from 2 his N* 27. T H E M I R R O R. 187 his eyes, and, fetching a deep figh, he uttered, in a low and broken voice, " My poor Amelia /" It was the tranflation of a favourite paflage which me had been attempting, but had left unfinifhed. As if uneafy left I had perceived his emotion, he carelefsly threw his arm over my fhoulder, and reading aloud a few lines of the page which I held open in my hand, he went into fome remarks on the poetry of that elegant author. Some time after, I obferved him take up the book, and carefully replacing the flip of paper where it had been, put the volume in his pocket. Mr. Wentworth propofed that we fhould walk out, and that he himfelf would accompany us. As we ftepped through the hall,- one of my friend's youngeft boys came running up, and catching his Papa by the hand, cried out with joy, that " Mamas Rover was returned" This was a fpaniel, who had been the favourite of Amelia, and had followed her in all her walks ; but after her death, had been fent to the houfe of a villager, to be out of the immediate fight of the family. Having fomehow made his efcape from thence, the dog had that morning found his way home ; and, as foon as he faw Mr. Wentworth, leaped upon him with an excefs of fondnefs. I faw my friend's lips and cheeks quiver. He catched his little Frank in his arms ; and, for a few moments, hid his face in his neck. As 138 THE MIRROR. N' 27. As we traverfed his delightful grounds, many different fcenes naturally recalled the remem- brance of Amelia. My friend, indeed, in or- der to avoid fome of her favourite walks, had conducted us an unufual road ; but what corner could be found that did not bear the traces of her hand ? Her elegant tafte had marked the pe- culiar beauty of each different fcene, and had brought it forth to view with fuch a happy deli- cacy of art, as to make it feem the work of na- ture alone. As we crofled certain paths in the woods, and pafled by fome ruftic buildings, I could fometimes difcern an emotion in my friend's countenance ; but he inftantly ftifled it with a firmnefs and dignity that made me care- ful not to feem to obferve it. Towards night, Mr. Wentworth having ftolen out of the room, his brother and I ftepped out to a terrace behind the houfe. It was the dufk of the evening, the air was mild and ferene, and the moon was rifmg in all her brightnefs from the cloud of the eaft. The finenefs of the night made us extend our walk, and we ftrayed into a hollow valley, whofe fides are covered with trees overhanging a brook that pours itfelf along over broken rocks. We approached a ruftic grotto, placed in a fequeftered corner, under a half-impending rock. My companion (lopped. " This,'* faid he, " was one of Ame- " lia's walks, and that grotto was her favourite * evening N 27. THE MIRROR. 189 " evening retreat. The laft night fhe ever ** walked out, and the very evening {he caught " that fatal fever, I was with my brother and " her, while we fat and read to each other in " that very place." While he fpoke, we per- ceived a man fteal out of the grotto, and, avoid- ing us, take his way by a path through a thicket of trees on the other fide. " It is my brother," faid young Wentworth ; vould be unjuftly cenfured. From a feeble conflitution of body, bad health, or foine un- toward accident or difappointment, you lofe your wonted feretiity. Influenced by your prefent humour even to thofe who have no concern in the accident that hath befallen you, and who would really be inclined to relieve you from your tmeaimefs, you become referved and fplenetic. You know the impropriety of fuch a demean- our, and endeavour to beget in your bofom a very different difpofition. Your pa (lions, how- ever, are flubborn ; images of wrong and of difappointment have taken flrong hold of your fancy ; and your prefent difagreeable and pain- ful ftate of mind cannot ealily be removed. Meanwhile, however, you difguife the appcar- i ance : N 29. THE MIRROR. 201 ance ; you are careful to let no fretful expreffion be uttered, nor any malignant thought lour in your afpect ; you perform external acts of civi- lity, and aflume the tones and the language of the moft perfect compofure. You thus war with your own fpirit ; and, by force of commanding the external fymptoms, you will gain a com- plete victory. You will actually eftablifti in your mind that good humour and humanity, which, a little before, were only yours in appearance. Now, in this difcipline, there is nothing cri- minal. In this difcipline, there is a great deal of merit. It will not only correct and alter our prefent humours, but may influence our habits and difpofitions. A contrary practice may be attended, if not with dangerous, at leaft with difagreeable con- fequences. Sir Gregory Blunt was the eldeft fon of a refpectable family. His fortune and his anceftry entitled him, as he and his friends apprehended, to appear in any mape that he pleafed. He owed, and would owe no man a milling ; but other men might be in- debted to him. He received from nature, and ftill poflefles, good abilities and humane difpo- fitions. He is a man, too, of inflexible honour. Yet Sir Gregory has an unbending caft of mind, that cannot eafily be famioned into foft com- pliance and condefcenfion. He never, even at an early period, had any pretenfions to winning ways, 202 T H E M I R R O R. N 20. i * ways, or agreeable affiduities ; nor had he any ta- lent for acquiring perfonal graces and accomplim- ments. In every thing that confers the eafy and engaging air of a gentleman, he was excelled by his companions. Sir Gregory had fenfe enough to perceive his own incapacity ; vanity enough to be hurt with the preferences fhown to young men lels able or honeft, but more complaifant than himfelf; and pride enough to caft away all pretenfions to that fmoothnefs of demeanour in which he could never excel. Thus he aflumed a bluntnefs and roughnefs of manners, better fuited to the natural caft of his temper. He would be plain ; he hated all your fmiling and fawning attentions ; he would fpeak what he thought ; he would praife no man, even though he thought him deferving, becaufe he fcorned to appear a flatterer; and he would promife no man good offices, not even though he meant to perform them, becaufe he abhorred oftentation. Accordingly, in his addrefs, he is often abrupt, with an approach to rudenefs, which, if it does not offend, difconcerts ; and he will not return a civility, becaufe he is not in the humour. He thus indulges a propenfity which he ought to have corrected ; and, Have to a furly vanity, he thinks he acts upon principle. Now, this habit not only renders him difagree- able to perfons of polifhed ftianners, but may be attended with confequences of a more ferious nature. N' 29. THE MIRROR. 203 nature. Sir Gregory does not perceive, that, while he thinks he is plain, he only offers to be plain ; that he often ftifles a kindly feeling, for fear of feeming complacent ; that " he conftrains " the garb quite from his nature ;" and that he dif- guifes his appearance as much at lead by exceflive bluntnefs, as he would by fhewingyo/?^ com- plaifance. Thus he is hardly entitled, notwith- lianding his pretenfions, to the praife even of honeft plainnefs. Befides, his character, in other relpects, is fo eminent, and his rank fo diftin- guilhed, that, of courfe, he has many admirers: and thus all the young men of his neighbour- hood are becoming as boifterous and as rough as himfelf. Even fome of his female acquaintance are likely to fufFer by the contagion of his ex- ample. Their defire of pleafing has taken an improper direction ; they feem leis ftudious of thofe delicate proprieties and observances fo effen- tial to female excellence ; they alfo will not ap- pear otherwife than what they are ; and thus they will not only appear, but become a great deal worfe. For, as the fhevv of humanity and good humour may, in fome inftances, promote a gentle temper, and render us good humoured ; fo the affectation and (hew of honeft plain- nefs may lead us to be plain without honefty, and fincere without good intention. Thofe who af- fect timidity, may, in time, become cowards ; and 204 T H E M I R R O R. N 29. and tliofe who affect roughnefs may, in time, grow inhuman. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, I HAVE long had a tendre for a young lady, who is very beautiful, but a little capricious. I think myfelf unfortunate enough not to be in her good graces ; but fome of my friends tell me I am a fimpleton, and don't underftand her. Pray be fo kind as inform me, Mr. MIRROR, what fort of rudenefs amounts to encouragement. When a lady calls a man impertinent, does fhe wifh him to be fomewhat more afluming ? When {he never looks his way, may he reckon himfelf a favourite ? Or, if fhe tells every body, that Mr. Such -a- one is her averfion, is Mr. Such-a-one to take it for granted, that fhe is downright fond of him ? Yours refpe&fully, MODESTUS. V N a 30. THE MIRROR. 205 N 30. SATURDAY, May 8, 1779. IT has fometimes been matter of fpeculation, whether or not there be a.Jex in ihzfoul : that there is one in manners, I never heard difputed ; the fame applaufe which we involuntarily beftow upon honour, courage, and fpirit in mcn^ we as naturally confer upon chaftity,modefty, and gen- tleneis in 'women. It was formerly one of thofe national boafts which are always allowable, and fometimes ufe- ful, that the Ladies of Scotland poflefled a purity of conduct, and delicacy of manners, beyond thofe of moft other countries. Free from the bad effects of overgrown fortunes, and of the diffipated fociety of an overgrown capital, their beauty was natural and their minds were uncor- rupted. Though I am inclined to believe, that this is ftill the cafe in general ; yet, from my own ob- fervation, and the complaints of feveral Corre- fpondents, I am forry to be obliged to conclude, that there begins to appear among us a very dif- ferent ftyle of manners. Perhaps our frequent communication with the metropolis of our fifter kingdom, is one great caufe of this. Formerly a London journey was attended with fome dif- ficulty so6 THE MIRROR. N 30. ficulty and danger, and pofting thither was an atchievement as mafculine as a fox-chace. Now the goodnefs of the roads and the convenience of the vehicles, render it a matter of only a few days moderate exercife for a lady ; " Facills " defcenfus Averm" our wives and daughters are carried thither to fee the world ; and we are not to wonder if fome of them bring back only that knowledge of it, which the moft ig- norant can acquire, and the moft forgetful re- tain. That knowledge is communicated to a certain circle, on their return ; the imitation is as rapid as it is eafy ; they emulate the Englijh, who before have copied the French; the drefs, the phrafe, and the morale of Paris, is tranf- planted firft to London, and thence to Edinburgh ; and even the fequeftrated regions of the country are fometimes vifited in this northern progrefs of politenefs. And here I cannot help obferving, that the imitation is often fo clumfy, as to leave out all the agreeable, and retain all the offenfive. In the tranflation of the manners, as in the tr (inflation of the language, of our neighbours, we are apt to lofe the fineneffes, the petits agrcmens, which (I talk like a man of the world) give zeft and value to the whole. It will be faid, perhaps, that there is often a levity of behaviour without any criminality of conduft 5 that the lady who talks always loud, and N 30. THE MIRROR. 207 and fometimes free, goes much abroad, or keeps a crowd of company at home, rattles in a public place with a circle of young fellows, or flirts in a corner with a fmgle one, does all this without the fmalleft bad intention, merely as fhe puts on a cap, and (licks it with feathers, becaufe fhe has feen it done by others whofe rank and fafhion entitle them to her imitation. Now, granting that moft of thofe ladies have all the purity of heart that is contended for, are there no difagreeable confequences, I would a(k, from the appearance of evil, exclufive of its reality ? Decorum is at lead the enfign, if not the outguard of virtue ; the want of it, if it does not weaken the garrifon, will, at leaft, embolden the aflail- ants ; and a woman's virtue is of fo delicate a nature, that to be impregnable is not enough, without the reputation of being fo. But, though female virtue t in the fingular^ means chaftity, there are many other endow- ments, without which a woman's character is reproachable, though it is not infamous. The mild demeanor, the modeft deportment, are valued not only as they denote internal purity and innocence, but as forming in themfelves the moft valuable and engaging part of the female character. There was, of old, a ftiffconftrain- ed manner, which the moderns finding unplea- fant, agreed to explode, and, in the common rage of reformation, fubflituted the very oppo- fite 2o3 THE MIRROR. N 6 30. fite extreme in its ftead ; to banifh. precifenefs, they called in levity, and ceremony gave way to fomething like rudenefs. But fafhion may alter the form, not the eflence of things ; and though we may lend our laugh, or even our ap- plaufe, to the woman whofe figure and conver- fation comes flying out upon us in this fafhion- able forwardnefs of manner ; yet, I believe, there is fcarce a votary of the mode who would wifh his fitter, his wife, or even his miftrefs (I ufe the word in its modeft fenfe), to pofTefs it. I have hitherto pointed my obfervations chiefly at the appearance of our ladies to the world, which, befides its being more immediately the object of public cenforfhip, a variety of ftridtures lately fent me by my Correfpondents naturally led me to confider. I am afraid, however, the fame innovation begins to appear in our domeftic as in our public life, and that the cafe of my friend Mr. Homefpttn is far from being fingular. Some of thofe whofe rank and flation are fuch as to enforce example, and regulate opinion, rtiink it an honourable diftinction to be able to lead, from the fober track which the maxims of their mothers and grandmothers had marked out for them, fuch young ladies as chance, relation- fhip, or neighbourhood, has placed within the reach of their influence. The ftate of diffidence and dependance, in which a young woman ufed to find herfelf happy under the protection of her parents N 30. T H E M I R R O R. 209 parents or guardians, they teach their pupils to confider as incompatible with fenfe or fpirit. With them obedience and fubordination are terms of contempt ; even the natural reftraints of time are diiregarded ; childhood is imma- turely forced into youth, and youth aflumes the confidence and felf-government of age ; do- meftic duties are held to be flavifh, and domcftic enjoyments infipid. There is an appearance of brilliancy in the pleafures of high life and fafhion, which na- turally dazzles and feduces the young and in- experienced. But let them not believe that the fcale of fortune is the ftandard of happinefs, or the whirl of pleafure, which their patronefles defcribe, productive of the fatisfadion which they affed to enjoy in it. Could they trace its courfe through a month^ a week, or a day, of that life which they enjoy^ they would find it commonly expire in languor, or end in difap- pointment. They would fee the daughters of fafhion in a ftate the moft painful of any, ob- liged to cover hatred with the fmile of friend- fhip, and anguim with the appearance of gaiety ; they would fee the miftrefs of the feaft, or the diredrefs of the route, at the table, or in the drawing-room, in the very fcene of her pride, torn with thofe jarring paffions which but I will not talk like a moralift which make VOL. I. P duchefles 2io THE MIRROR. N 30. duchefles mean, and the fineft women in the world ugly. I do them no injuftice ; for I ftate this at the time of poffejfion ; its value in re- feftion I forbear to eft i mate. If I dared to contraft this with a picture of domeftic pleafure ; were I to exhibit a family virtuous and happy, where affection takes place of duty, and obedience is enjoyed, not exacted ; where the happinefs of every individual is re- flected upon the fociety, and a certain tender folicitude about each other, gives a more delicate fenfe of pleafure than any enjoyment merely felfiih can produce ; could I paint them in their little circles of bufmefs or of amufement, of fentiment or of gaiety, I am perfuaded the fcene would be too venerable for the moft irreverent to deride, and its happinefs too apparent for the moft diflipated to deny. Yet to be the child or mother of fuch a family, is often foregone for the miferable vanity of aping fome woman, weak as (he is worthlefs, defpifed in the midft of flattery, and wretched in the very centre of diffipation. I have limited this remonftrance to motives merely temporal, becaufe I am informed, fome of our high-bred females deny the reality of any other. This refinement of infidelity is one of thofe new acquirements, which, till of late, were altogether unknown to the ladies of this country^ and which I hope very, very few of them are i yet N 30. T H E M I R R O R. an yet pofleffed of. I mean not to difpute the fo- lidity of their fyftem, as I am perfuaded they have ftudied the fubject deeply, and under very able and learned matters. I would only take the liberty of hinting the purpofe for which, I have been told by fome fafhionable men, fuch doc- trines have frequently been taught. It feems, it is underftood by the younger clafs of our phi- lofophers, that a woman never thinks herfelf quite alone^ till fhe has put God out of the way, as well as her hujband. V N 31. TUESDAY, May n, 1779. Fortemque Cyan, fortemque Cloanthum. VIRG. np HERE is hardly any fpecies of writing more * difficult than that of drawing characters ; and hence it is that fo few authors have excelled in it. Among thofe writers who have confined themfelves merely to this fort of compofition, Iheophraftus holds the firft place among the an- cients, and La Bruyere among the moderns. But, befide thofe who have profefledly confined themfelves to the delineation of character, every hiftorian who relates events, and who defcribes 2 the T H E M I R R O R. N 31. the difpofition and qualities of the perfons en- gaged in them, is to be confidered as a writer of characters. There are two methods by which a character may be delineated ; and different authors have, more or lefs, adopted the 'one or the other. A character may either be given by defcribing the internal feelings of the mind, and by relating the qualities with which the perfon is endowed ; or, without mentioning in general the internal qualities which he pofleffes, an account may be given of his external conduct, of his behaviour on this or that occafion, and how he was affected by this or that event. An author who draws characters in the firft manner, employs thofe words that denote the general qualities of the mind ; and by means of thefe he gives a defcription and view of the cha- racter. He paffes o^'er the particular circum- ftances cf behaviour and conduct which lead to the general conclufion with regard to the charac- ter, and gives the conclufion itfelf. But an author who draws characters in the other manner above alluded to, inftead of giving the general conclufion deduced from the obfer- vation of particular circumftances of conduct, gives a view of the particulars themfelves, and of the external conduct of the perfon whofe cha- racter he wiihes to reprefent, leaving his readers to form their own conclufion from that view which N3i- THE MIRROR. 213 which he has given. Of the two authors I have mentioned, each excels in one of thofe oppofite manners. In every inftance I can recollect, ex- cepting the extravagant picture of the abfent man, La Bruyere lays before his readers the internal feelings of the character he wifhes to reprefent ; while Tbeopbraftus gives the action which the internal feelings produce. Of thefe different modes of delineating cha- racters, each has its peculiar advantages. The beft method of giving a full and comprehenfive view of the different parts of a character, may be by a general enumeration of the qualities of mind with which the perfon is endowed : while, at the fame time, it is, perhaps, impoilible to mark the nice and delicate ihades of character, without bringing the image more fully before the eye, and placing the perfon in that lituation which calls him forth into action. In thefe two different manners, there are faults into which authors, following the one or the other, are apt to fall, and which they ihould ftudioiuly endeavour to avoid. An author who gives the internal qualities of the character, fliould guard againfl being too general j he who gives views of the conduct, and reprefents the actions themfelves, mould avoid being too particular. When the internal qualities of the mind are de- fcribed, they may be expreffed in fuch vague and general terms, as to lay before the reader no P 3 marked 214 THE MIRROR. N 31. marked diftinguifhing feature ; when, again, in the views which are given of the conduct, the detail is too particular, the author is apt to tire by becoming tedious, or to difguft by being trifling or familiar, or by approaching to vul- garity. Some of our mod celebrated hifto- rians have committed errors of the firft fort ; when, at the end of a reign, or at the exit of a hero, they draw the characler of the King, or great man, and tell their readers, that the perfon they are taking leave of, was brave^ generous, juft, humane ; or the tyrant they have been de- claiming againft, was cruel^ haughty ', jealous^ de- ceitful; thefe general qualities are fo little di- ftinguifhing, that they may be applied, almoft, to any very good, or very bad man, in the hiftory. When, on the other hand, an author, in order to give a particular view of the perfon of whom he writes, tells his readers, what fuch perfon did before, and what after dinner ; what before, and what after he flept ; if his vivacity prevent him from appearing tedious, he will at leaft be in danger of difpleafing by the appear- ance of vulgarity or affectation. It may be proper here to obferve, that, in making a right choice of the different manners in which a characler may be drawn, much de- pends upon the fubjecT;, or defign of the author; one method may be more fuited to one kind of compofition than to another. Thus the author who N'ji. THE MIRROR. 215 who confines himfelf merely to drawing charac- ters, the hiftorian who draws a character arifmg only frcm, or illuftrating the events he records, or the novellift who delineates characters by feigned circumftances and fituations, have each their feveral objects, and different manners may be properly adopted by each of them. Writers, fuch as Tbeopbrqftus and La Bruyere, take for their object a character governed by fome one paflion, abforbing all others, and in- fluencing the man in every thing ; the mi/er, the epicure^ the drunkard^ 13c. The bufinefs of the hiftorian is more difficult and more ex- tenfive ; he takes the complicated characters in real life ; he muft give a view of every diftinguiftiing characteriftic of the perfonage, the good and the bad, the fierce and the gentle, all the ftrarige diverfities which life prefents. Novel-writers ought, like the profefled writers of character, to have it generally in view to il- luftrate fome one diftinguiftiing feature or pailion of the mind ; but then they have it in their power, by the afliftance of ftory, and by invent- ing circumftances and fituation, to exhibit its leading features in every poflible point of view. The great error, indeed, into which novel- writers commonly fall, is, that they attend more to the ftory and to the circumftances they relate, than to giving new and juft views of the cha- racter of the perfon they prefent. Their ge- p 4 neral 216 THE MIRROR. N 3 r. neral method is to affix names to certain per- fonages, whom they introduce to their readers, whom they lead through dangers and diftreffci, or exhibit in circumftances of ridicule, without having it in view to illuftrate any one predo- minant or leading principle of the human heart; without making their readers one bit better ac- quainted with the characteriftic features of thofe perfons at the end of the ftory than at the be- ginning. Hence there are fo few novels which give lading pleafure, or can bear to be perufed oftener than once. From the furprife occafioned by the novelty or nature of the events, they may carry their readers once through them ; but, as they do not illuftrate any of the principles of the mind, or give any interefting views of cha- racter, they raife no defire for a fecond perufal, and ever after lie neglected on the fhelf. How very different from thefe are the novels, which,; in place of relying upon the mere force of incident, bring the characters of their per- fonages fully before us, paint all their fhades and attitudes, and by making us, as it were, inti- mately acquainted with them, deeply engage our hearts in every circumftance which can affect them ? This happy talent of delineating all the delicate features and nice tints of hu- man character, never fails to delight, and will often atone for many defects. It is this which renders Rtcbardfon ib interefting, in fpite of his immea- NO 3i THE MIRROR. 217 immeafureable tedioufnefs ; it is this which will render Fielding ever delightful, notwithstanding the indelicate coarfenefs with which he often offends us. A N 32. SATURDAY, May 15, 1779. T T A p p i N E s s has been compared, by one of my predecefTors, to a Game ; and he has prefcribed certain rules to be followed by the players. Thefe, indeed, are more neceflary than one might fuppofe at firft fight ; this game, like moft others, being as often loft by bad play as by ill luck. The circumftances I am placed in, fome of which I communicated to my readers in my introductory paper, make me often a fort of looker-on at this game ; and, like all lookers-on, I think I difcover blunders in the play of my neighbours, who frequently lofe the advantages their fortune lays open to them. To chace the allufion a little farther, it is fel- dom that opportunities occur of brilliant Jlrokes or deep calculation. With moft of us, the or- dinary little ftake is all that is played for; and he who goes on obferving the common rules of the game, and keeping fcis temper in the re- verfes T H E ]ft I R R O R. N 32. verfes of it, will find himfelf a gainer at laft. In plainer language, bappinefs, with the bulk of men, may be faid to confift in the power of enjoying the ordinary pleafures of life, and in not being too eafily hurt by the little difquietudes of it. There is a certain finenefs of foul, and delicacy of fentiraent, with which few fituations accord, to which many feeming harmlefs ones give the greateft uneafmefs. The art " defipere in loco'' (by which I underftand being able not only to trifle, upon occafion, ourfelves, but alfo to bear the foolery of others), is a qualification extremely ufeful for fmoothing a man's way through the world. I have been led into this train of thinking, by fome circumftances in a vifit I had lately the pleafure of receiving from my friend Mr. Um- phraville, with whom I made my readers ac- quainted in fome former Numbers. A particu- lar piece of bufmefs occurred, which made it expedient for him to come to town ; and though he was, at firft, extremely averfe from the jour- ney, having never liked great towns, and now relifhing them lefs than ever, yet the remon- ftrances of his man of bufmefs, aided by very urgent requefts from me, at length overcame him. He fet out, therefore, attended by his old family-fervant, John, whom I had not failed to remember in my invitation to his mafter. 9 At N 32. THE MIRROR. 219 At the firft ftage on the road, John told me, his matter looked fad, eat little, and fpoke lefs. Though the landlord ulhered in dinner in per- fon, and gave his gueft a very minute defcrip- tion of his manner of feeding bis mutton, Mr. Umpbraville remained a hearer only, and {hewed no inclination to have him fit down and partake of his own dimes ; and, though he defired him, indeed, to tafte the wine, of which he brought in a bottle after dinner, he told him, at the fame time, to let the oftler know he mould want his horfes as foon as poilible. The landlord left the room, and told John^ who was eating his din- ner, fomewhat more deliberately, in the kitchen, that his mafter feemed a melancholy kind of a gentleman, not half fo good-humoured as his neighbour Mr. Jolly. John^ who is interefted both in the happinefs and honour of his mafter, endeavoured to mend matters in the evening, by introducing the hqftefs very particularly to Mr. Umpbraville ; and, indeed, venturing to invite her to fup with him. Umpbraville was too my, or too civil, to decline the lady's company, and John valued himfelf on having procured him fo agreeable a companion. His mafter complained to me, fmce he came to town, of the oppreflion of this landlady's company ; and declared his refolu- tion of not flopping at the George on his way home. The 220 T H E M I R R O R. N 32. The morning after his arrival at my houfe, while we were fitting together, talking of old ftories, and old friends, with all the finer feel- ings afloat about us, John entered, with a look of much fatisfaction, announcing the name of Mr. Bear/km. This gentleman is a firft coufin of UmpbravilleS) who refides in town, and whom he had not feen thefe fix years. He was bred a mercer^ but afterwards extended his dealings with his capital, and has been concerned in feveral great mercantile tranfadions. While Umpbraville, with all his genius, and all his ac- complimments, was barely preferving his eftate from ruin at home, this man, by dint of induftry and application, and partly from the want of genius and accomplifhments, has amafled a for- tune greater than the richeft of his coufm's an- ceftors was ever poflefTed of. He holds Umpbra- ville in fome refpecl, however, as the reprefen- tative of his father's family, from which he de- rives all his gentility, his father having fprung nobody knows whence, and lived nobody knows how, till he appeared behind the counter of a woollen-draper, to whofe fhop and bufmefs lie fucceeded. My friend, though he could have excufed his vifit at this time, received him with politenefs. He introduced him to me as his near relation ; on which the other, who mixes the flippant civility of his former profeflion with fonaewhat of N32. THE MIRROR. 221 of the monied confidence of his prefent one, made me a handfome compliment, and congra- tulated Mr. Umpbraville on the pofleffion of fiich a friend. He concluded, however, with a diftant infmuation o bis houfe' s being a more natural home for his coiifm when in town, than that of any other perfon. This led to a defcription of that houfe, its rooms and its furniture, in which he made no inconfiderable eulogium on his own tafte, the tafte of his wife, and the tafte of the times. Umpbraville blufhed, bit his lips, com- plained of the heat of the room, changed his feat, in fhort fuffered torture all the way from the cellar to the garret. Mr. Bear/kin clofed this defcription of his houfe with an expreflion of his and his wife's earneft defire to fee their coujin there. Umpbraville de- clared his intention of calling to enquire after Mrs. Bear/kin and the young folks, mentioning, at the fame time, the fhortnefs of his propofed flay in town, and the hurry his bufmefs would ne- ceflarily keep him in while he remained. But this declaration by no means fatisfied his kin- man ; he infifted on his fpending a day with them fo warmly, that the other was at laft over- come, and the third day after was fixed on for that purpofe, which Mr. Bear/kin informed us would be the more agreeable to all parties, as he fliould then have an opportunity of introducing us to his London correfpondent, a man of great fortune, 222 T H E M I R R O R. N 32; fortune, who had juft arrived here on a jaunt to fee the country, and had promifed him the favour of eating a bit of mutton with him on that day. I would have excufed myfelf from being of the party ; but not having, any more than Umphraville, a talent at refufal, was, like him, overpowered by the folicitations of his coufin. The hiftory of that dinner I may poffibly give my readers hereafter, in a feparate paper, a din- ner, now-a-days, being a matter of confequence, and not to be managed in an epifode. The time between was devoted by Mr. Umphraville to bufmefs, in which he was pleafed commonly to afk my advice, and to communicate his opinions. The laft I found generally unfavourable both of men and things ; my friend carries the " prifca *~fde$* too much about with him to be per- fectly pleafed in his dealings with people of bufi- nefs. When we returned home in the evening, he feemed to feel a relief in having got out of the reach of the world, and muttered expreffions, not to mention the inflections of his countenance, which, if fairly fet down on paper, would almoft amount to calling his banker a Jew, his lawyer not a gentleman, arid his agent a pettifogger. He was, however, very ready to clap up a truce with his ideas when in company with thefe fe- veral perfonages ; and though he thought he faw them taking advantages, of which I am perfuaded N 32. THE MIRROR. 223 perfuaded they were perfectly innocent, he was contented to turn his face another way, and pafs on. A man of Umpbraville's difpofition is wil- ling to fuffer all the penalties of fillinefs, but that of being thought filly. I A N 33. TUESDAY, May 18, 1779. MONO the many advantages arifing from cultivated fentiment, one of the firft and moft truly valuable, is that delicate complacency of mind which leads us to confult the feelings of thofe with whom we live, by fhowing a difpofition to gratify them as far as in our power, and by avoiding whatever has a contrary tendency. They muft, indeed, have attended little to what pafles in the world, who do not know the importance of this difpofition ; who have not ob- ferved, that the want of it often poifons the do- meftic happinefs of families, whofe felicity every other circumftance concurs to promote. Among the letters lately received from my Correfpondents, are two, which, as they afford a lively picture of the bad confequences refult- ing 224 THE MIRROR. N 33 . ing frorrx/the neglect of this complacency, I (hall here lay before my readers. The firft is from a lady, who writes as follows : SIR, TV/T Y father was a merchant of fome eminence, who gave me a good education, and a for- tune of feveral thoufand pounds. With thefe advantages, a tolerable perfon, and I think not an unamiable temper, I was not long arrived at womanhood before I found myfelf poflefTed of many admirers. Among others was Mr. Gold^ a gentleman of a very refpectable character, who had fome connections in trade with my father ; to him, being a young man of a good figure, and of very open and obliging manners, I foon gave the preference, and we were accordingly married with the univerfai approbation of my friends. We have now lived together above three years, and I have brought him two boys and a girl, all very fine children. I go little abroad, attend to nothing fo much as the ceconomy of our family, am as obliging as poflible to all my hufband's friends, and ftudy in every particular to be a kind and dutiful wife. Mr. Gold's N 33. THE MIRROR. Gold's reputation and fuccefs in bufmefs daily increafes, and he is in the main, a kind and attentive hufband ; yet I find him fo particu- lar in his temper, and fo often out of hu- mour about trifles, that, in fpite of all thofe comfortable circumftances, I am perfectly un- happy. At one time he finds fault with the dimes at table ; at another, with the choice of my maid-fervants ; fometimes he is difpleafed with the trimming of my gown, fometimes with the fhape of my cloak, or the figure of my . head-drefs ; and, fhould I chance to give an opinion on any fubjet which is not perfectly to his mind, he probably looks out of humour at the time, and he is fure to chide me about it when we are by ourfelves. It is of no confequence whether I have been right or wrong in any of thofe particulars. If I fay a word in defence of my choice or opi- nion, it is fure to make matters worfe, and I am only called a fool for my pains ; or, if I exprefs my wonder that he mould give himfelf uneafmefs about fuch trifles, he anfwers, fullenly, that, to be fure, every thing is a trifle in which I choofe to difoblige him. It was but the other day, as we were juft going out to dine at a friend's houfe, he told me my gown was extremely ugly. I anfwered, his obfervation furprifed me, for it was garnef, VOL. i. < and 226 T H E M I R R O R. N* 33. and I had taken it off on hearing him fay he wondered 1 never chofe one of that colour. Upon this he got into a paffion, faid it was very odd I fhould charge my bad tafte upon him ; he had never made any fuch obfervation, for the colour was his averfion. The difpute at laft grew fo warm, that I threw myfelf down on a fettee, unable to continue it, while he flung out of the room, ordered away the coach from the door, and wrote an apology to his friend for our not waiting upon him. We dined in our different apartments : and though, I believe, we were equally forry for what had pafled, and Mr. Gold, when we met at fupper, afked my pardon for having contra- dicted me fo roughly ; yet we had not fat half an hour together, when he told me, that, after all, I was certainly miftaken, in faying he had recommended a garnet colour ; and, when I very coolly allured him I was not, he renewed the difpute with as much keennefs as ever. We parted in the fame bad humour we had done be- fore dinner^ and I have hardly had a pleafant look from him frnce* In a word, Mr. Gold will allow me to have no mind but his : and, unlefs I can fee with his eyes, hear with his ears, and tafte with his palate (none of which I can very eafily bring myfelf to do, as you muft know all of them are fome- what particular), I fee no profpect of our fitua- tion N 33. THE MIRROR. 227 tion changing for the better ; and what makes our prefent one doubly provoking is, that, but for this unfortunate weaknefs, Mr. Gold^ who is, in other refpecls, a very worthy man, would make one of the beft of hufbands. Pray tell me, Sir, what I mould do in this fituation, or take your own way of letting my hufband fee his weaknefs, the reformation of which would be the greateft of all earthly bleflf- ings to Your's, &c. SUSANNA GOLD. I was thinking how I mould anfwer this let- ter, or in what way I could be ufeful to my Correfpondent, when I received the following ; the infertion of which is, I believe, the beft re- ply I can make to it. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, T WAS bred a merchant; by my fuccefs ia trade I am now in affluent circumftances, and I have reafon to think that I am fo with an un- blemifhed character. Some 223 T H E M I R R O R. N* 3 j. Some years ago, I married the daughter of a refpectable citizen, who brought a comfortable addition to my fortune ; and as fhe had been virtuoufly educated, and feemed cheerful and good-tempered, as I was myfelf naturally of a domeftic turn, and refolved to make a good hufband, I thought we bade fair for being happy in each other. But, though I muft do my fpoufe the juftice to fay, that (he is difcreet and prudent, atten- tive to the affairs of her family, a careful and fond mother to her children, and, in many re- fpects, an affectionate and dutiful wife ; yet one foible in her temper deftroys the effect of all thefe good qualities. She is fo much attached to her own opinions in every trifle, fo impatient of contradiction in them, and withal fo ready to difpute mine, that, if I difapprove of her tafte or fentiments, in any one particular, or feem diffatisfied, when fhe difapproves of my tafte or fentiments, it is the certain fource of a quarrel ; and, while we perfectly agree as ta our general plan of life, and every eflential cir- cumftance of our domeftic oeconomy, this filly fancy, that I muft eat, drefs, think, and fpeak, precifely as fhe would have me, while fhe will not accommodate herfelf to me in the moft trifling of thefe particulars, gives me perpetual uneafmefs ; and with alnaoft every thing I could wifh, a genteel income, a good reputation, pro- 2 mifmg N" 33. THE MIRROR. 229 mifmg children, and a virtuous wife, whom I fincerely efteem, I have the mortification to find myfelf abfolutely unhappy. I am fure this foible of my poor wife's will appear to you, Mr. MIRROR, in its proper light ; your making it appear fo to her, may be the means of alleviating our mutual diftrefs ; for, to tell you the truth, I believe me is almoft as great a fufferer as I am. I hope you will gratify me in this defire ; by doing fo, you may be of general fervice, and will particularly oblige Your conftant reader, and Obedient humble fervant, NATHANIEL GOLD. On comparing thefe two letters it is evident that, from the want of that complacency men- tioned in the beginning of this paper, the very fenfibility of temper, and ftrength of affection, which, under its influence, would have made this good couple happy, has had a quite con- trary effect. The fource of the difquiet they complain of, is nothing elfe than the want of that refpect for the tafte, feelings, and opinions of each other, which conftitutes the difpofition I have recommended above, and which, fo far from being inconfiftent with a reafonable defire of 230 THE MIRROR. N 33. of reforming each other in thefe particulars, is the moft probable means of accompliming it. Nor is the cafe of Mr. and Mrs. Gold fmgular in this refpect. By much the greateft part of domeftic quarrels originate from the want of this pliancy of 'difpofition, which people feem, very abfurdly, to fuppofe may be difpenfed with in trifles. I have known a man who would have parted with half his eftate to ferve a friend, to whom he would not have yielded a hair's breadth in an argument. But the lefTer virtues muft be attended to as well as the greater; the manners as well as the duties of life. They form a fort of Pocket Coin, which, though it does not enter into great and important tranfactions, is abfo- lutely neceflary for common and ordinary in- tercourfe. K N 34. SATURDAY, May 22, 1779. FN compliance with a promife I made my * readers at the clofe of laft Saturdays paper (at leaft it was that fort of promife which a- man keeps when the thing fuits his inclination), I proceed to give them an account of that dinner to which my friend Mr. Umpbraville and I were invited by his coufm Mr. Bearjkin. On N 34. THE MIRROR. On our way to the houfe, I perceived certain fymptoms of diflatisfadlion, which my friend could not help bringing forth, though he durft not impute them to the right caufe, as I have heard of men beating their wives at home, to revenge themfelves for the erotics they have met with abroad. He complained of the moiftnefs of the weather, and the dirtinefs of the ftreet ; was quite fatigued with the length of the way (Mr. Bear/kin 's houfe being faQiionably eccentric), arid almoft curfed the taylor for the tightnefs of a fuit of clothes, which he had befpoke on his arrival in town, and had now put on for the firft time. His chagrin, I believe, was increafed by his having juft learned from his lawyer, that the bufmefs he came to town about, could not be finifhed at the time he expected, but would probably laft a week longer. When we entered Mr. Bear/kin's drawing- room, we found his wife fitting with her three daughters ready to receive us. It was eafy to fee, by the air of the lady, that me was per- fectly miftrefs of the houfe, and that her huf- band was only a fecondary perfon there. He feemed, however, contented with his fituation, and an admirer of his wife ; a fort of lap-dog hufband (of whom I have feen many), who looks fleck, runs about brifkly, and, though he now and then gets a kick from his miftrefs, is as ready to play over his tricks again as ever. CL4 Mr. 232 THE MIRROR. N 8 34. Mr. Bear/kin^ after many expreJTions of his happinefs in feeing his coufm in his new houfe, propofed walking us down ftairs again, to begin fhowing it from the ground ftory upwards. Um- pbraville, though I faw him fweating at the idea, was ready to follow his conductor, when we were faved by the interpofition of the lady, who littered a " Pfha ! Mr. Bear/kin" with fo fig- nificant a look, that her huiband inftantly drop- ped his defign, faying, " to be fure there was " not much worth feeing, though he could have " wifhed to have mown his coufm his Jludy* " which he thought was tolerably clever." " I " thought, Papa," faid the eldeft of the Mifles, *' it was not quite in order yet." " Why, not altogether ;" replied her father : " I have not been able to get up my beads> as Pope has loft an ear, and Homer the left fide of his beard, *' by the careleffnefs of a packer ; and I want * c about three feet and a half of folios for my " loweft fhelf."- " I don't care if there was not ' *f olio in the world," rejoined Mifs. "Child!" faid her mother, in a tone of rebuke Mifs bridled up, and was Ulent ; I fmiled ; Urn- pbraville walked to the window, and wiped his forehead. Bear/kin now pulled out his watch, and telling the hour, faid, he wondered his friend Mr. Blub- her was not come, as he was generally punctual to a minute. While he fpoke, a loud rap at the door N 34- T H E M I R R O R, 233 door announced the expected company; and prefently Mr. Blubber, his wife, a fon, and two daughters, entered the room. The firft had on an old-fafhioned pompadour coat, with gold but- tons, and very voluminous ileeves, his head adorned by a large major wig, with curls as white and as ftiff as if they had been caft in plafter of Paris ; but the females, and heir of the family, were drefled in the very height of the mode. Bear/kin introduced the old gentle- man to his coufm Mr. Umpbraville: " Mr. " Blubber , Sir, a very particular friend of mine, *' and (turning to me with a whifper) worth " fourfcore thoufand pounds, if he's worth a " farthing." Blubber faid, he feared they had kept us waiting ; but that his wife and daughters had got under the hands of the hair-drefler, and he verily thought would never have had done with him. The ladies were too bufy to reply to this accufation ; they had got into a commit- tee of enquiry on Mr. Ed-ward Blubber's waift- coat, which had been tamboured y it feems, by his fifters, and was univerfally declared to be monftrous bandfome. The young man himfelf femed to be highly delighted with the reflection of it in a mirror that flood oppofite to him. ' Isn't it vaftly pretty, Sir ?" faid one of the young ladies to Umpbraville. " Ma'am !" faid he, flarting from a reverie, in which I faw, by his countenance, he was meditating on the young gentleman 234 THE MIRROR. N 34. gentleman and his waiftcoat in no very favour- able manner. I read her countenance too ; fhe thought Umphravitle juft the fool he did her brother. Dinner was now announced, and. the com- pany, after fome ceremonial, got into their places at table, in the centre of which flood a fumptuous epargne, filled, as Bear/km informed us, with the produce of his farm. This joke, which, I fuppofe, was as regular as the grace before dinner, was explained to the ignorant to mean, that the fweetmeats came from a planta- tion in one of the Weft- India iflands, in which he had a concern. The epargnc itfelf now pro- duced another diflertation from the ladies, and, like the waiftcoat, was alfo pronounced monflrous bandfome. Blubber, taking his eye half off a plate of falmon, to which he had juft been helped, obferved, that it would come to a hand- fome price too ; " Sixty ounces, Til warrant " it," faid he ; " but as the plate tax is now " repealed, it will coft but the intereft a-keep- ic ing." " La, Papa," faid Mifs Blubber, " you " are always thinking of the money things " coft!"" Yes," added her brother, " Tables " of intereft are an excellent accompaniment for " a deflert." At this fpeech all the ladies laughed very loud. Blubber faid, he was an impudent dog ; but feemed to relifh his fon's wit not withftan ding. Umpbraville looked ftern^ N 34. T H E M I R R O R. 235 ly at him ; and, had not a glance at his waift- coat fet him down as fomething beneath a man's anger, I don't know what confequences might have followed. During the reft of the enter- tainment, I could fee \\\zfumet of fool and cox- comb on every morfel that Umphraville fwallow- ed, though Mrs. Bear/km, next whom he fat, was at great pains to help him to the nice bits of every thing within her reach. When dinner was over, Mr. Blubber men- tioned his defign of making a tour through the Highlands, to vifit Stirling, Taymouth, and Dun- field ; and applying to our landlord for fome de- fcription of thefe places, was by him referred to Mr. Umphraville and me. Mr. Umphraville was not in a communicative mood ; fo I was obliged to afiure Mr. Blubber, who talked with much uncertainty and apprehenfion of thefe matters, that he would find beds and bed-clothes, meat for himfelf, and corn for his horfes, at the feveral places above mentioned ; that he had no dan- gerous feas to crofs in getting at them ; and that there were no highwaymen upon the road. After this there was a confiderable interval of filence, and we were in danger of getting once more upon Mr Edward's fine waiftcoat, when Mr. Bear/kin, informing the company that his coufm was a great lover of mufic, called on his daughter, Mifs Polly, for a fong, with which, after fome of the ufual apologies, he complied ; and, 236 THE MIRROR. N- 34. and, in compliment to Mr. Umpbravilles tafte, who fhe was fure muft like Italian mufic, (he fimg, or rather fqualkd^ a fong oSacebfiu\ in which there was fcarce one bar in tune from beginning to end. Mifs Blubber faid, in her ufual phrafeology, that it was a monftrous fweet air. Her brother fwore it was divinely Jung. Umpbraville gulped down a falfehood with a very bad grace, and faid, Mifs would be a good finger with a little more practice. A compli- ment which was not more diftant from truth on one fide, than from MhVs expectations on the other, and I could plainly perceive, did not fet him forward in the favour of the family. " My father is- a judge of finging too," faid Mr. Edward Blubber ; " what is your opinion " of the fong, Sir ?" -" My opinion is," faid he, " that your Italianos always fet me afleep ; ** Englifh ears fliould have Englifh fongs, I *' think." " Then, fuppofe one of *the ladies ** fhould give us an Englifh fong," faid I. " 'Tis " a good motion," faid Mr. Bear/kin, " I fecond " it ; Mifs Betfy Blubber fings an excellent ct Englifh fong." Mifs Betfy denied floutly that fhe ever fung at all ; but evidence being produced againft her, fhe, at laft, faid, fhe would try if fhe could make out " 'The Maid's Choice" " Ay, ay, Betfy" faid her father, " a very good *' fong ; I have heard it before. " If I could but find, I care not for fortune Umh ! a man to my mind." Mifs N* 3*; THE MIRROR. 237 Mifs Eetfy began the fong accordingly, and to make up for her want of voice 9 accompanied it with a great deal of aftion. Either from the ac- cident of his being placed oppofite to her, or from a fly application to his ftate as an old ba- chelor , me chofe to perfonify the maid's choice in the figure of Umpbraville^ and pointed the defcription of the fong particularly at him. Urn- pbraville, with all his dignity, his abilities, and his knowledge, felt himfelf uneafy and ridicu- lous under this filly allufion of a ballad ; he blufhed, attempted to laugh, blufhed again, and ftill looked with that, awkward importance which only the more attracted the ridicule of the fools around him. Not long after the ladies retired ; and no perfuafion of his coufm could induce him to ftay the evening, or even to enter the drawing-room where they were aflembled at tea. " Thank Heaven !" faid Umphraville, when the door was {hut, and we had got fairly into the ftreet. " Amen J" I replied, fmiling, " for " our good dinner and excellent wine!" - " How the devil, Charles," faid he, " do you " contrive to bear all this nonfenfe with the " compofure you do ?" " Why, I have often " told you, my friend, that our earth is not a planet fitted up only for the reception of wife men. Y 'our Blubbers and Bearjklns are necef- fary parts of the fyftem ; they deferve the en- joy ments " " " 23S THE MIRROR. N 34. joy merits they are capable of feeling ; and I Cl " am not fure if he who fuffers from his own fuperiority does not deferve his fufferings." ct N 35. TUESDAY, May 25, 1779. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, TILL I arrived at the age of twenty, my time was divided between my books, and the fociety of a few friends, whom a fimilarity of purfuits and difpofitions recommended to me. About that period, finding that the habits of re- ferve and retirement had acquired a power over me, which my fituation, as heir to a confider- able fortune, would render inconvenient, I was prevailed upon, partly by a fenfe of this, partly by the importunity of my relations, to make an effort for acquiring a more general acquaintance, and fafhionable deportment. As I was confcious of an inclination to oblige, and a quick fenfe of propriety, two qualities which I efteemed the ground of good-breeding ; as my wit was tole- rably ready, and my figure not difadvantageous, I own to you that I entertained fome hopes of fuccefs. I was, N 35. THE MIRROR. 239 I was, however, unfuccefsful. The novelty of the fcenes in which I found myfelf engaged, the multiplicity of obfervances and attention re- quifite upon points which I had always regarded as below my notice, embarraflfed and confounded me. The feelings to which I had trufted for my direction, ferved only to make me awkward, and fearful of offending. My obfequious fer- vices in the drawing-room pafled unrewarded ; and my obfervations, when I ventured to mingle, either in the chat of the xvomen, or the politics of the men, being delivered with timidity and hefitation, were overlooked or neglected. Some of the more elderly and difcreet among the former feemed to pity me ; and I could not help remarking, that they often, as if they had meant the hint for me, talked of the advantage to be derived from the perufal of Lord Chefterfield 's Letters. To this author, then, as foon as I learned his fubject, I had recourfe, as to a guide that would point out my way, and fupport me in my journey. But, how much was I afto- nimed, when, through a veil of wit, ridicule, elegant expreffion, and lively illuftration, I difcerned a ftudied fyftem of frivolity, meannefs, flattery, and diffimulation, inculcated as the fureft and moft eligible road to eminence and popu- larity ? Young as I am, Mr. MIRROR, and heedlefs as I may confequently be fuppofed, I cannot think T H E M I R R O R. N* 3 $. think that this work is a code proper for being held up to us as the regulator of our conduct. The talents infifted on with peculiar emphafis, the accomplifhments moft earneflly recommend- ed, are fuch as, in our days, if they ought to be treated of at all, fhould be mentioned only to put us on our guard againft them. If riches na- turally tend to render trifles of importance ; if they direct our attention too much toward ex- terior accomplifhments ; if they propagate the courtly and complying fpirit too extenfively at any rate, we certainly, in this country, fo wealthy and luxurious, have no need of exhort- ations to cultivate or acquire thofe qualifications. The habits that may arreft for a little time the progrefs of this corruption, ought now to be in- fifted on. Independence, fortitude, flubborn integrity, and pride that difdains the fhadow of fervility ; thefe are the virtues which a tutor {hould inculcate, thefe the bleffirigs which a fond father fhould fupplicate from Heaven for his offspring. It is, throughout, the error of his Lordfhip's fyftem, to confider talents and accomplimments according to the ufe that may be made of them, rather than their intrinfic worth. In this cate- chifm, applaufe is rettitude^ andfuccefc is morality. That, in our days, a perfon may rife to emi- nence by trivial accomplimments, and become popular by flattery and difiimulation, may, per- haps, N 35. THE MIRROR. 241 haps, be true. But from this it furely does not follow, that thefe are the means which an ho- nourable character fhould employ. There is a dignity in the mind which cultivates thofe arts alone that, are valuable, which courts thofe cha- racters alone that are worthy, which difdains to conceal its own fentiments, or minifter to the foibles of others ; there is, I fay, a confcious dignity and fatisfaction in thefe feelings, which neither applaufe, nor power, nor popularity, without them, can ever beftow. Many of .his Lordfhip's diftinctions are too nice for my faculties. I cannot, for my part, difcern the difference between feigned confidence and infmcerity ; between the conduct that con- veys the approbation of a fentiment, or the flat- tery of a foible, and the words that declare it, I fliould think the man whofe countenance was open, and his thoughts concealed, a hypocrite ; I mould term him who could treat his friends as if they were at the fame time to be his enemies, a monfter of ingratitude and duplicity. It is dangerous to trifle thus upon the borders of vir- tue. By teaching us that it may infenfibly be blended with vice, that their refpective limits are not in every cafe evident and certain, our veneration for it is diminimed. Its chief fafe- guavd is a jealous fenfibility, that ftartles at the colour or fhadow of deceit. When this barrier has been infulted, can any other be oppofed at VOL. i. R which 242 THE MIRROR. N 35. which conference will arife and proclaim, Thus far, and no farther, (halt thou advance ? The love of general applaufe, recommended by his Lordmip, as the great principle of con- duct, is a folly and a weaknefs. He that di- rects himfelf by this compafs cannot hope to fleer through life with fteadinefs and confiftency. He muft furrender his own character, and af- fume the hue of every company he enters. To court the approbation of any one, is, in a tacit manner, to do homage to his judgment or his feelings. He that extends his courtfhip of it beyond the praife- worthy, violates the exclufive privilege of virtue, and muft feek it by unwor- thy arts. On the other hand, though I am by no means a, friend to rafh and unguarded cenfure, yet I cannot help confidering the conduct of him who will cenfure nothing, who will fpeak his fenti- ments of no character with freedom, who pal- liates every error, and apologizes for every fail- ing, as more nearly allied to meannefs, timidity, and a time-ferving temper, than it is con- nected with candour, or favourable to the cauf& of virtue. Nor can I perfuade myfelf that his Lord- fhip's fyftem will be attended with general fuc- cefs. The real character is the only one that can be maintained at all times, and in all dif- pofitions. Profeffions of friendihip and regard will N 35. THE MIRROR. 243 \vill lead to expectations of fervice that cannot be anfwered. The fentiments delivered in one company, the manners aflumed upon one occa- fion, will be remembered, and coutrafted with thofe that are prefented on another. Sufpicion, once awakened, will penetrate the darkeft cloud which art can throw around a perfon in the common intercourfe of life. Let us confider, too, were this fyflem gene- rally adopted, what a dull infipid fcene muft fociety become ! No diftinction ; no natural ex- preflion of character ; no confidence of pro- feffions of any kind ; no aflurance of fmcerity ; no fecret fympathy, nor delightful correfpond- ence of feeling. AH the fallies of wit, all the graces of polite manners, would but ill fupply the want of thefe pleafures, the pureft and molt elegant which human life affords. EUGENIUS. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, you treat much of politenefs, I wifh you would take notice of a particular fort of incivility from which one fuffers, without be- ing thought entitled to complain. I mean that of never contradicting one at all. R 2 I have THE M I R R O R. N 3$. I have lately come from my father's in the country, where I was reckoned a girl of tole- rable parts, to refide for fome time at my aunt's in town. Here is a vifitor, Mr. Dapperwit, a good-looking young man, with white teeth, a fine complexion, his cheeks dimpled, and rather a little full and large at bottom ; in fhort, the civilleft, moft complying fort of face you can imagine. As I have often taken notice of his behaviour, I was refolved to minute down his difcourfe the other evening at tea. The con- verfation began about the weather ^ my aunt obferving, that the feafons were wonderfully altered in her memory. " Certainly, my lady," faid Mr. Dafpffwit, " amazingly altered indeed" " Now I have heard my father fay (faid I), that " is a vulgar error ; for that it appears from re- " gifters kept for the purpofe, that the ftate of the " weather, though it may be different in cer- " tain feafons, months, or weeks, preferves a " wonderful equilibrium in general." " Why, u to be fure, Mifs, I believe, in general, as " you fay; but, talking of the weather, I " hope your Ladyfhip caught no cold at the " play t'other night ; we were fo awkwardly " iituated in getting out." " Not in the leaft, c< Sir ; I was greatly obliged to your fervices " there." " You were well entertained, I hope, *' my Lady ?" " Very well, indeed ; I laugh- " cd exceedingly; there is a great deal of wit " in N35- T H E M I R R O R. 245 " in Sbakefpeares comedies ; 'tis pity there is fo " much of low life in them." " Your ladyfhip's u criticifm is extremely juft ; every body muft " be ftruck with it." " Why now I think " (faid I again), that what you call low life, is " nature, which I would not lofe for all the reft of the play."" Oh ! doubtlefs, Mifs ; for " nature, , Sbakefpeare is inimitable j every body " muft allow that." " What do you think, Sir " (faid my coufin Betfy, who is a piece of poe- " tefs herfelf), of that monody you were fo kind " as to fend us yefterday ?" " I never deliver - " let, with a variety of fine natural falls, there " is now nothing but a dry ditch, or rather " crooked gulph, which is hideous to look at. " The malice of this procedure is fufficiently " confpicuous, when I tell you, that there is " another, and a larger ftream, in the fame " grounds, which I have offered to be at the " iole expence of conducting to his mill. I " think the law muft do me juftice. At any " rate, it is impoflible tamely to bear fuch aa " injury. I mall probably fee you in a few " days. To fay the truth, my dear friend, even " before this laft mortification, I had begun to " find, that the expectations I had formed of " the pleafures of a country-life were by far too " fanguine. I muft confefs, that, notwithftand- " ing the high relifh I have for the beauties of " nature, I have often felt, amidft the moft ro- S 2 " mastic 260 T H E M I R R O R. N 37. " mantle fcenes, that languor of fpirit which " nothing but fociety can diffipate. Even when " occupied with my favourite ftudies, I have " fometimes thought, with the lard 'of 'Mantua , * c that the eafe and retirement which I courted " were rather ignoble. I have fuffered an ad- " ditional difappointment in the ideas I had form- ed of the characters of the country-people. It is but a treacherous picture, my friend, which the poets give us of their innocence and honeft fimplicity. I have met with fome " inftances of infmcerity, chicane, and even " downright knavery, in my fhort acquaintance " with them, that have quite mocked and mor- " tified me. " Whether I mail ever again enter into the T H E M I R R O R, 295 interpreted all this ; and he could but (lightly cenfure the creed from .which it arofe. They had not been long arrived, when a num- ber of La Roche & parifhioners, who had heard of his return, came to the houfe to fee and wel- come him. The honeft folks were awkward, but fmcere, in their profefTions of regard. They made fome attempts at condolence ; it was too delicate for their handling; but La Roche took it in good part. " It has pleafed God," faid he ; and they faw he had fettled the matter with himfelf. Philofophy could not have done fo much with a thoufand words. It was now evening, and the good peafants were about to depart, when a clock was heard to ftrike feven, and the hour was followed by a particular chime. The country folks, who had come to welcome their paftor, turned their looks towards him at the found ; he explained their meaning to his gueft. was no mufician, but he was not alto- gether infenfible to mufic ; this faftened on his mind more ftrongly, from its beauty being un- expected. The folemn prelude introduced a hymn, in which fuch of the audience as could ling immediately joined; the words were moftly taken from holy writ ; it fpoke the praifes of God, and his care of good men. Something was faid of the death of the juft, of fuch as die in the Lord. - The organ was touched witfy a hand lefs firm ; it paufed, it ceafed ; and the fobbing of Ma'moifelle La Roche was heard in its ftead. Her father gave a fign for flopping the pfalmody, and rofe to pray. He was dif- compofed at firft, and his voice faltered as he fpoke ; but his heart was in his words, and his warmth overcame his embarrafTment. He ad- drefled N* 43. THE MIRROR. 297 drafted a Being whom he loved, and he fpoke for thofe he loved. His parimioners catched the ardour of the good old man ; even the phi- lofopher felt himfelf moved, and forgot, for a moment, to think why he fhould not. La Roche 's religion was that of fentiment, not theory, and his gueft was averfe from difputa- tion ; their difcourfe, therefore, did not lead to queftions concerning the belief of either ; yet would the old man fometimes fpeak of his, from the fulnefs of a heart imprefled with its force* and wifhirig to fpread the pleafure he enjoyed in it. The ideas of his God, and his Saviour, were fo congenial to his mind, that every emo- tion of it naturally awaked them. A philofo- pher might have called him an enthufiaft ; but, if he poflefled the fervour of enthufiafts, he was guiltlefs of their bigotry. " Our Father which " art in heaven !" might the good man fay- for he felt it and all mankind were his bre- thren. " You regret, my friend," faid he to Mr. , " when my daughter and I talk of the " exquifite pleafure derived from mufic, you " regret your want of mufical powers and mufi- " cal feelings ; it is a department of foul, you " fay, which nature has almoft denied you, " which, from the effects you fee it have on " others, you are fure muft be highly delightful. u Why fhould not the fame thing be faid of " religion? 41 T H E M I R R O R. N* 43. religion ? Trufl me, I feel it in the fame way, an energy, an infpiration, which I would not lofe for all the bleflings of fenie, or enjoy- ments of the world ; yet, fo far from leiTen- " ing my relifh of the pleafures of life, methinks " I feel it heighten them all. The thought of " receiving it from God, adds the blefiing of " fentiment to that of fenfation in every good a thing I poffefs ; and when calamities overtake ** me and I have had my fhare it confers a " dignity on my affliction, fo lifts me above " the world. - Man, I know, is but a worm ** yet, methinks, I am then allied to God !" -It would have been inhuman in our philofo- pher to have clouded, even with a doubt, the funfhine of this belief. His difcourfe, indeed, was very remote from metaphyfical difquifition, or religious contro- verfy. Of all men I ever knew, his ordinary converfation was the leaft tinctured with pe- dantry, or liable to difTertation. With La Roche and his daughter, it was perfectly familiar. The country round them, the manners of the village, the comparifon of both with thofe of England, remarks on the works of favourite authors, on the fentiments they conveyed, and the paffions they excited, with many other topics in which there was an equality, or alternate advantage, among the fpeakers, were the fubjects they talk- ed on, Their hours too of riding and walking were N* 4 THE MIRROR. were many, in which Mr. - , as a ftranger, was {hewn the remarkable fcenes and curiofities of the country. They would fometimes make little expeditions to contemplate in different at- titudes, thofe aftonifhing mountains, the cliffs of which, covered with eternal fnows, and fometimes fhooting into fantaftic fhapes, form the termination of moft of the Swifs profpects. Our philofopher alked many queftions as to their natural hiftory and productions. La Roche ob- ferved the fublimity of the ideas which the view of their ftupendous fummits, inacceflible to mortal foot, was calculated to infpire, which naturally, faid he, leads the mind to that Being by whom their foundations were laid.'* They " are not feen in Flanders !" faid Ma'moifelle with a figh. " That's an odd remark," faid Mr. , fmiling, - She blulhed, and he enquired no farther. 'Twas with regret he left a fociety in which he found himfelf fo happy ; but he fettled with La Roche and his daughter a plan of correfpond-? ence ; and they took his promife that, if ever he came within fifty leagues of their dwelling, he fhould travel thofe fifty leagues to vifit them,. Z 300 T H E M I R R O R. N" 44, I N 44. SATURDAY, June 26, 1779. Conclufion of the Story of LA ROCHE. A BOUT three years after, our philofbpher ** was on a vifit at Geneva ; the promife he made to La Roche and his daughter, on his former vifit, was recalled to his mind, by the view of that range of mountains, on a part of which they had often looked together. There was a reproach, too, conveyed along with the recollection, for his having failed to write to cither for feveral months paft. The truth was, that indolence was the habit mod natural to him, from which he was not eafily roufed by the claims of correfpondence either of his friends or of his enemies ; when the latter drew their pens in controverfy, they were often unanfwered as well as the former. While he was hefitating about a vifit to La Roche ^ which he wifhed to make, but found the effort rather too much for him, he received a letter from the old man, which had been forwarded to him from Paris> where he had then his fixed refidence. It con- tained a gentle complaint of Mr. J s want of punctuality, but an aflurance of continued grati- tude for his former good offices ; and, as a friend whom the writer confidered Interefted in his family, V* 44- THE MIRROR. 301 family, it informed him of the approaching nuptials of Ma'moifelle La Roche, with a young man, a relation of her own, and formerly a pupil of her father's, of the moft amiable difpo- iition, and refpeclable character. Attached from their earlieft years, they had been feparated by his joining one of the fubfidiary regiments of the Canton, then in the fervice of a foreign power. In this fituation, he had diftinguifhed himfelf as much for courage and military fkill, as for the other endowments which he had cul- tivated at home. The term of his fervice was now expired, and they expected him to return in a few weeks, when the old man hoped, as he exprefled it in his letter, to join their hands, and fee them happy before he died. Our philofopher felt himfelf interefted in this event ; but he was. not, perhaps, altogether fo happy in the tidings of Ma'moifelle La Roche's marriage, as her father fuppofed him.-* Not that he was ever a lover of the lady's ; but he thought her one of the moft amiable women he had feen, and there was fomething in the idea of her being another's for ever, that ftruck him, he knew not why, like a difappointment. After fome little fpeculation on the matter, how- ever, he could look on it as a thing fitting, if not quite agreeable, and determined on this vifit to fee his old friend and his daughter happy. On the lafl day of his journey, different acci- dents 302 T H E M I R R O R. N 44. dents had retarded his progrefs ; he was be- nighted before he reached the quarter in which La Roche refided. His guide, however, was well acquainted with the road, and he found himfelf at laft in view of the lake, which I have before defcribed, in the neighbourhood of La Roche's dwelling. A light gleamed on the water, that feemed to proceed from the houfe ; it moved flowly along as he proceeded up the fide of the lake, and at laft he faw it glimmer through the trees, and ftop at fome diftance from the place where he then was. He fuppofed it fome piece of bridal merriment, and pumed on his horfe that he might be a fpe&ator of the fcene ; but he was a good deal fhocked, on approaching the ipot, to find it proceed from the torch of a per- fon clothed in the drefs of an attendant on a fu- neral, and accompanied by feveral others, who, like him, feemed to have been employed in the rites of fepulture. On Mr. 's making inquiry who was the perfon they had been burying ? one of them, with an accent more mournful than is common to their profeffion, anfwered, " Then you knew " not Mademoifelle, Sir ! you never beheld a ct lovelier" " La Roche!" exclaimed he in reply " Alas ! it was (he indeed !" The ap- pearance of furprife and grief which his counte- nance aflumed, attracted the notice of the pea- fant with whom he talked. He came up clofer i to N'44- THE MIRROR. 303 to Mr. ; " I perceive, Sir, you were " acquainted with Mademoifelle La Roche" " Acquainted with her! Good God ! when " how where did fhe die ? Where is her " father? " She died, Sir, of heart-break, *' I believe ; the young gentleman to whom fhe " was foon to have been married, was killed in " a duel by a French officer, his intimate com- " panion, and to whom, before their quarrel, he *' had often done the greateft favours. Her imagi- nation, however, we may fancy what an awk- ward appearance a modern nabob t or contraElor y would N 45- THE MIRROR. 309 would have made in a circle of thefe proud and high-minded nobles. With all his wealth, he would have been treated as a being of a different fpecies ; and any attempt to imitate the manners of \hegreat) or to rival them in expence and fplendour, would only have ferved to expofe him the more to ridicule and contempt. As riches, however, increafed in the nation, men became more and more fenfible of the folid advantages they brought along with them ; and the pride of birth gradually relaxing, monied men rofe proportionally into eftimation. The haughty lord, or proud country-gentleman, no longer fcrupled to give his daughter in marriage to an opulent citizen, or to repair his ruined fortune by uniting the heir of his title or family with a rich heirefs, though of plebeian extraction. Thefe connections daily becoming more com- mon, removed, in fome meaiure, the diftinction of rank ; and every man, poflefled of a certain fortune, came to think himfelf entitled to be treated as a gentleman, and received as a man of fafkion. Above all, the happy expedient of purchafing Seats in Parliament^ tended to add weight and confideration to what came to be called the Monied Intereft. When a perfon, who had fuddenly acquired an enormous for- tune, could find eight or ten proper, well-dreQed, gentlemen-like figures ready to vote for him, as his proxies, in the Houfe of Commons, it is not x 3 furprifmg, 310 T-.H E MIRROR. N 45. furprifing, that, in his turn, he fhould come to look down on the heirs of old eftablifhed fa- milies, who tould neither cope with him in in- fluence at court, nor vie with him in fhow and oftentation. About the beginning of this century, there feems to have been an intermediate, though ihort interval, when genius, knowledge, talents, and elegant accomplifhments, intitled their pof- feflbr to hold the rank of a man of faftion, and were even deemed effen dally requifite to form that character. The fociety of Swift, Pope, Gay, and Prior, was courted by all ; and, without the advantages of high birth, or great fortune, an Addifon and a Craggs attained the firft offices in the ftate. In the prefent happy and enlightened age, neither birth nor fortune, fuperior talents, nor fuperior abilities, are requifite to form a man of fafhion. On the contrary, all thefe advan- tages united are infufficient to entitle their owners to hold that rank, while we daily fee numbers received as men of fajhion, though fprung from the meaneft of the people, and though deftitute of every grace, of every polite accomplifhment, and of all pretenfions to genius or ability. j This, I confefs, I have often confidered as one of the greateft and moft important im- provements in modern manners. Formerly it behoved N4 5 - THE MIRROR. 311 behoved every perfon born in obicurity, who wifhed to rife into eminence, either to acquire wealth by induftry or frugality, or, following a flill more laborious and difficult purfuit, to dif- tinguim himfelf by the exertion of fuperior ta- lents in the field or in the fenate. But now nothing of all this is neceflary. A certain de- gree of knowledge the man of faflxon muft in- deed poflefs. He muft be mafter of the prin- ciples contained in the celebrated treatife of Mr. Hoyle ; he muft know the chances of Hazard; he muft be able to decide on any difpute with regard to the form of a bat, or the famion of a buckle ; and he muft be able to tell my Lady Duchefs, whether Marechalle powder fuits beft a brown or a fair complexion. From the equipage, the drefs, the external fhow of a modern man of fa/1; ion , a fuperficial obferver might be apt to think that fortune^ at leaft, is a neceflary article ; but a proper knowledge of the world teaches us the con- trary. A man of fafiion muft, indeed, live as if he were a man of fortune. He muft rival the wealthieft in expence of every kind ; he muft pufh to excefs every fpecies of extravagant dif- fipation ; and he muft game for more money than he can pay. But all thefe things a man of fajhion can do, without poflefTing any vifible revenue whatever. This, though perhaps the moft important, is not the only advantage which x 4 the 312 THE MIRROR. N 45. the man of f aft ion enjoys over the reft of man- kind. Not to mention that he may feduce the daughter, and corrupt the wife, of his friend, he may alfo, with perfect honour, rob the fon of that friend of his whole fortune in an evening ; and it is altogether immaterial that the one party was intoxicated, and the other fober ; that the one was (killed in the game, and the other ignorant of it ; for, if a young man will play in fuch cir- cumftances, who but himfelf can be blamed for the confequences ? The fuperiority enjoyed by a man offaJJiion, in his ordinary dealings and intercourfe with mankind, is ftill more marked. He may, with- out any impeachment on his character, and with the nice/I regard to his honour, do things which, in a common man, would be deemed infamous. Thus the man of fafJj'ion may live in luxury and fplendour, while his creditors are ftarving in the ftreets, or rotting in a jail ; and, fhould they at- tempt to enforce the laws of their country againft him, he would be entitled to complain of it as a grofs violation of the refpect that is due to his perfon and character. The laft time my friend Mr. Umphraville was in town, I was not a little amufed with his remarks on the men of faftion about this city, and on the change that had taken place in our manners fince the time he had retired from the world. When we met a young man gaily drefled, N45- THE MIRROR. 313 drefled, lolling in his chariot, he feldom failed to alk, " What young lord is that ?" One day we were invited to dine with an old acquaintance, who had married a lady paflionately fond of the /0#, and of every thing that had the appearance of fafhion. We went at the common hour of dining, and, after waiting fome time, our hoft (who had informed us that he would in- vite nobody elfe, that we might talk over old ftories without interruption) propofed to order dinner ; on which his lady, after chiding his impatience, and obferving that nobody kept fuch unfashionable hours, faid, (he expected Mr. , and another friend, whom me had met at the play the evening before, and had engaged to dine with her that day. After waiting a full hour longer, the noife of a carriage, and a loud rap at the door, announced the arrival of the expected guefts. They entered drefTed in the very pink of the mode; and neither my friend's drefs nor mine being calculated to infpire them with refpet, they brufhed pa ft us, and addrefled the lady of the houfe, and two young ladies who were with her, in a ftrain of coarfe familiarity, fo different from the diftant and refpedful man- ner to which Mr. Umphraville had been accuf- tomed,that I could plainly difcoverhe was greatly fhocked with it. When we were called to din- ner, the two young gentlemen feated themfelves on each hand of the lady of the houfe, and there ingrofled 314 T H E M I R R O R. N 45. ingrofled the whole converfation, if a recital of the particulars of their adventures at the tavern the evening before deferves that name. For a long time, every attempt made by our landlord to enter into difcourfe with Mr. Umpbraville and me proved abortive. At laft, taking advantage of an accidental paufe, he congratulated my friend on the conqueft of Pondicberry. The latter, drawing his brows together, and making his head with an exprefTion of diflent, obferved, that, although he was always pleaied with the exertions of our countrymen, and the bravery of our troops, he could not receive any fatif- faclion from an Indian conqueft. He then began an harangue on the corruption of manners- the evils of luxury the fatal confequences of a fudden influx of wealth and would, I am per- fuaded, ere he had done, have traced the lofs of liberty in Greece and the fall of Rome to Afiatlc connections, had he not been, all at once, cut fliort with the exclamation of " Damn it, Jack^ " how does the old boy do to-day ? I hope " he begins to get better. Nay, pr'ythee, of^ the fined natural tafte cannot become fuddenly an elegans formarum fpeftator^ an expreffion which it is fcarce poffible to tranf- late. It is only by companion that we arrive .at the knowledge of what is moft perfect in its kind. The Madonas of Carlo Maratt appear exquifitely beautiful; and it is only when we fee N 4 8. THE MIRROR. 339 fee thofe of Raphael that we difcern their imper- fections. A perfon may even be fenfible of the imperfections of forms ; but, at the fame time, may find it impoflible to conceive, with precifion, an idea of the moft perfect. Thus Raphael could not form an idea of the Divine Majefty, till he faw it fo forcibly expreffed in the paint- ings of Michael Angela* As our judgment, therefore, of beauty, grace, and elegance, though founded in perception, becomes accurate only by comparifon and experience, fo the painter, -ex- ercifed in the contemplation of forms, is likely to be a better judge of beauty than any perfon lefs experienced. The laft and moft confiderable pleafure re- ceived from painting, is that arifmg from com- pofition. This is properly diftinguifhed into two kinds, the picturefque and the poetical. To the firft belongs the diftribution of the feveral figures, fo that they may all be united and confpire in one fingle effect ; while^each is fo placed, as to prefent itfelf ,in proportion to its importance in the action reprefented. To this alfo belongs the diverfifying and contrafting the attitudes of dif- ferent figures, as well as the feveral members of each. Above all, the picturefque compofition has belonging to it the diftribution of light and fhade, while every fingle figure has its proper {hare of each. One mafs of light, and its pro- portionable fhade, {hould unite the whole piece, z 2 and 340 THE MIRROR. N 48. and make every part of it confpire in one fingle effect. To this alfo belongs the harmony, as well as the contraft, of colours. Now, in all this ordonnance pifturefque, there appears an ex- quifite art only to be acquired by cuftotn and habit ; and of the merit of the execution, no perfon can be a judge but one who has been in fome meafure in the practice of it. It is enough to fay, that hardly any body will doubt, that Paulo Veronefe was a better judge of the difpo- fition of figures than Michael Angela ; and that Caravaggio was a better judge of the diftribution of light and made than Raphael; fo, in fome meafure, every painter, in proportion to his knowledge, muft be a better judge of the merit of picturefque compofition, than any perfon who judges from the effects only. With regard to poetical compofition, it com- prehends the choice of the action to be repre- fented, and of the point of time at which the perfons are to be introduced, the invention of circumflances to be employed, the expreffion to be given to every actor ; and, lajlly, the obferv- ance of the cojlume, that is, giving to each per- fori an air fuitable to his rank, reprefenting the complexion and features that exprefs his tem- perament, his age, and the climate of his coun- try, and dreffing him in the habit of the time in which he lived, and of the nation to which he belongs. From N%8. THE MIRROR. 341 From this enumeration of the feveral con- fiderations that employ the hiftory-painter, it will immediately appear, why this department of painting is called poetical compofition j for here, in truth, it is the imagination of a poet that employs the hand of a painter. This ima- gination is nowife neceffarily connected with the imitative hand. Lucas of Leyden painted more correctly, that is, imitated more exactly, than Salvator Rofa ; but the former did not chufe fubjects of fo much grace and dignity, nor com- pofed with fo much force and fpirit, becaufe he was not a poet like the latter. Salvator Rofa has given us elegant verfes full of picturefque defcription ; and, in every one of his pictures, he ftrikes us by thofe circumftances which his poetical imagination had fuggefted. Now it is plain, that a poetical imagination muft be de- rived from nature, and can arife neither from the practice of painting, nor even from the ftudy of pidures. The painter, therefore, and even the connolffeur^ in judging of the merit of poeti- cal compofition, can have little advantage above other fpedators ; but even here it muft be al- lowed, that if the painter has an equal degree of tafte, he muft, from the more frequent exer- cife of it, have great advantages in judging above any other perfon lefs experienced. I have thus endeavoured to {hew, that, in judging of painting, the painter himfelf, and z. 3 even 342 T H E M I R R O R. N 48. even the connoiffeur, much engaged and exer- cifed in the ftudy of pictures, that is, //// qui ratwnem opens mtelligunt, have advantages above the common fpe&ators, qui voluptatem t ant um prcclplunt. But, as a caution to the former, it may not be improper to conclude with obferving, that the painter and connuijfcur are often in dan- ger of having their fenfibility deadened, or their natural tafte corrupted, by a knowledge of the technical mlnutite of the art, fo far as to throw the balance towards the fide of the common fpectator, D N 49. TUESDAY, July 13, 1779. A S I walked one evening, about a fortnight ago, through Sf. Andrew s Square, I ob- ferved a girl, meanly dreffed, coming along the pavement at a flow pace. When I pafled her, ihe turned a little towards me, and made a fort of halt ; but faid nothing. I am ill at looking any body full in the face ; fo I went on a few fteps before I turned my eye to obferve her. She had, by this time, refumed her former pace. I remarked a certain elegance in her form, which the N 49^ THE M I R R O R. 343 the poornefs of her garb could not altogether overcome : her perfon was thin and genteel, and there was fomething not ungraceful in the ftoop cf her head, and the feeming feeblenefs with which me walked. I could not refift the defire, which her appearance gave me, of knowing fomewhat of her fituation and circumftances : I therefore walked back, and repafled her with fuch a look (for I could bring myfelf to nothing more) as might induce her to fpeak what fhe feemed delirous to fay at firft. This had the effect I wilhed. " Pity a poor orphan !" faid fhe, in a voice tremulous and weak. I flopped, and put my hand in my pocket : I had now a better opportunity of obferving her. Her face was thin and pale ; part of it was (haded by her hair, of a light brown colour, which was parted, in a difordered manner, at her forehead, and hung loofe upon her fhoulders ; round them was caft a piece of tattered cloak, which with one hand fhe held acrofs her bofom, while the other was half-outftretched to receive the bounty I in- tended for her. Her large blue eyes were caft on the ground : fhe was drawing back her hand as I put a trifle into.it ; on receiving which fhe turned them up to me, muttered fomething which I could not hear, and then, letting go her cloak, and prefling her hands together, burrb into tears. It was not the action of an ordinary beggar, z 4 and 344 T H E M I R R O R. N 49, and my curiofity was ftrongly excited by it. I defired her to follow me to the houfe of a friend hard by, whofe beneficence I have often had occafion to know. When {he arrived there, fhe was fo fatigued and worn out, that it was not till after fome means ufed to reftore her, that fhe was able to give us an account of her misfortunes. Her name, fhe told us, was Collins ; the place of her birth one of the northern counties of England. Her father, who had died feveral years ago, left her remaining parent with the charge of her, then a child, and one brother, a lad of feventeen. By his induftry, however, joined to that of her mother, they were tolerably fup- ported, their father having died poflefled of a fmall farm, with the right of pafturage on an adjoining common, from which they obtained a decent livelihood : that, laft fummer, her bro- ther having become acquainted with a recruiting ferjeant, who was quartered in a neighbouring village, was by him enticed to enlift as a foldier, and foon after was marched off, along with fome other recruits, to join his regiment : that this, fhe believed, broke her mother's heart, for that fhe had never afterwards had a day's health ; and, at length, had died about three weeks ago: that, immediately after her death, the fteward, employed by the 'fquire of whom their farm was held, took pofleffion of every thing for the ar- rears of their rent : that, as fhe had heard her brother's N 49. THE MIRROR. 345 brother's regiment was in Scotland when he en- lifted, flie had wandered hither in queft of him, as (he had no other relation in the world to own her ! But (he found, on arriving here, that the regiment had been embarked feveral months be- fore, and was gone a great way off, (he could not tell whither. " This news," faid (he, " laid hold of my " heart ; and I have had fomething wrong here," putting her hand to her bofom, " ever fiuce. I " got a bed and fome victuals in the houfe of " a woman here in town, to whom I told my " ftory, and who feemed to pity me. I had " then a little bundle of things, which I had " been allowed to take with me after my mo- " ther's death ; but the night before laft, fome- " body ftole it from me while I flept ; and fo " the woman faid fhe would keep me no longer, " and turned me out into the ftreet, where I " have fmce remained, and am almoft famimed " for want." She was now in better hands ; but our affift- ance had come too late. A frame, naturally delicate, had yielded to the fatigues of her jour- ney and the hardfhips of her fituation. She de- clined by flow but uninterrupted degrees, and yefterday breathed her laft. A fhort while be- fore fhe expired, fhe afked to fee me ; and tak- ing from her bofom a little filver locket^ which fhe told me had been her mother's, and which all 346 T H E M I R R O R. N* 49. all her diitreiTes could not make her part with, begged I would keep it for her dear brother, and give it him, if ever he fhould return home, as a token of her remembrance. I felt this poor giiTs fate ftrongly ; but I tell not her ftory merely to indulge my feelings ; I would make the reflections it may excite in my readers, iifeful to others who may fuffer from fimilar caufes. There are many, I fear, from whom their country has called brothers, fons, or fathers, to bleed in her fervice, forlorn, like poor Nancy Collins^ with " no relation in the world " to own them." Their fufferings are often unknown, when they are fuch as moft demand compaflion. The mind that cannot obtrude its diftrefles on the ear of pity, is formed to feel their poignancy the deepeft. In our idea of military operations, we are too apt to forget the misfortunes of the people. In defeat, we think of the fall, and in victory, of the glory of Commanders ; we feldom allow our- felves to confider how many, in a lower rank, both events make wretched : how many, amidft the acclamations of national triumph, are left to' the helplefs mifery of the widowed and the or- phan, and, while victory celebrates her feftival, feel, in their diftant hovels, the extremities of want and wretchednefs ! It was with pleafure I faw, among the refo- lutions of a late patriotic affembly in this city, an N 49- T H E M I R R O R. 347 an agreement to affift the poor families of our abfent foldiers and feamen. With no lefs fatif- fadtion I read in fome late newfpapers, a bene- volent advertifementifjf "a meeting of gentlemen, to confider of a fubfcription for the fame pur- pofe. At this feafori of general and laudable ex- ertion, I am perfuaded fuch a fcheme cannot fail of patronage and fuccefs. The benevolence of this country requires not argument to awaken it; yet the pleafures of its exertion muft be increafed by the thought, that pity to fuch objects is pa- triotifm ; that, here, private companion becomes public virtue. Bounties for the encouragement . of recruits to our fleets and armies, are highly meritorious donations. Thefe, however, may fometimes bribe the covetous, and allure the needy ; but that charity which gives fupport and protection to the families they leave behind, ad- drefles more generous feelings ; feelings which have always been held congenial to bravery and to heroifm. It endears to them that home which their fwords are to defend, and ftrengthens thofe ties which fhould ever bind "the foldier of a free ftate to his country. Nor will fuch a provifion be 'of lefs advantage to pofterity than to the preferit- times. It will fave to the ftate many ufeful fubje'fts which thofe families thus fupported may produce, whofe lives have formerly been often nurtured by penury to vice, and rendered not only uleleis, but baneful' to THE MIRROR. N 49. to the community; that community which, un- der a more kindly influence, they might, like their fathers, have enriched by their induftry, and protected by their valour. Z N" 50. SATURDAY, July 17, 1779. THOUGH the following letter has been pretty much anticipated by a former paper, yet it pofTefles too much merit to be refufed iri- jfertion. SIR, ACTIVITY is one of thofe virtues indifpen-* fably requifite for the happinefs and welfare of mankind, which nature appears to have dif- tributed to them with a parfimonious hand. All men feem naturally averfe, not only to thofe exertions that fharpen and improve the mental powers, but even to fuch as are necefiary for maintaining the health, or ftrengthening the or- gans of the body. Whatever induftry and en- terprize the fpecies have at any time difplayed, originated in the bofom of pain, of want, or of neceflity ; N 50. T H E M I R R O R. 349 neceffity ; or, in the abfence of thefe caufes, from the experience of that liflleflhefs and lan- guor which attend a ftate of total inaction. But with how great a number does this experience lead to no higher object than the care of external appearances, or to the proftitution of their time in trivial purfuits, or in licentious pleafures ? The fureft, the moft permanent remedy, and, in the end too, the moft delightful, which is to be found in unremitted ftudy, or in the labours of a profeflion, is, unhappily, the laft we recur to. Of all who have rifen to eminence in the paths of literature or ambition, how few are there, who at firft enjoyed the means of pleafure, or the liberty of being idle ? and how many could every one enumerate, within the circle of his acquaintance, pofiefled of excellent abilities, and even anxious for reputation, whom the fatal in- heritance of a bare competency has doomed to obfcurity through life, and quiet oblivion when dead ? Let no man confide entirely in his refolutions of activity, in his love of fame, or in his tafte for literature. All thefe principles, even where they are ftrongeft, unlefs fupported by habits of induftry, and roufed by the immediate prefence of fome great object to which their exertion leads, gradually lofe, arid at laft refign their in- fluence. The fmalleft particle of natural indo- lence, like the principle of gravitation in matter, 2 unlefs 350 THE MIRROR. N 50. unlefs counterbalanced by continual impulfe from fome active caufe, will infenfibly lower, and at laft overcome the flight of the fublimeft genius. In computing it, we ought to recoiled:, that it is a caufe for ever prefent with us, in all moods, In every difpofition ; and that, from the weak- nefs of our nature, we are willing, at any rate, to relinquim diftant profpecls of happinefs and advantage, for a much fmaller portion of prefent indulgence. I have been led into thefe reflections by a vifit which I lately paid to my friend Mordaunt^ in whom they are, unhappily, too well exempli- fied. I have known him from his infancy, and always admired the extent of his genius, as much as I refpe&ed the integrity of his prin- ciples, or loved him for the warmth and benevo- lence of his heart. But, fmce the time when he began to contemplate his own character, he has often confefled to me, and feelingly com- plained, that nature had infufed into it a large portion of indolence, an inclination to deipon- dency, and a delicacy of feeling, which dif- qualified him for the drudgery of bufmefs, or the buftle of public life. Frequently in thofe tedious hours, when his melancholy claimed the attendance and fupport of a friend, have I feen a confcious blufh of fhame and felf-reproach mingle with the fecret figh, extorted from him by the fenfe of this defect. His fituation, how- ever, N 50. THE Mtl' R R O R. 351 ever, as fecond fon of a- family, which, though old and honourable, poffefled but a fmall for- tune, and no intereft, abfolutely required that he fhould adopt a profefiion.' The law wis his choice ; and, fuch is the power of habit and ne- ceffity, that, after four years fpent in the ftudy of that fcience, though at firfl it had impaired his health, and even foured his temper, he was more fanguine in his expectation of fuccefs, and enjoyed a more conftant flow of fpirits, than I had ever known him to do at any former period. The law, unfortunately, feldom beftows its honours or emoluments upon the young ; and my friend, too referved, or too indifferent, to court a fet of men on whofe good-will the at- tainment of practice, in fome degree, depends, found himfelf, at the end of two years clofe at- tendance at the bar, though high in the efteern of all that knew him well, as poor, and as dif- tant from preferment, as when he firft engaged in it. All my aflurances, that better days would foon fliine upon him, and that his prefent fitu- ation had, at firft, been the lot of many now raifed to fame and diftinction, were infufficient to fupport him. A deep gloom fettled on his fpirits, and he had already refolved to relinquim this line of life, though he knew not what other to enter upon, when the death of a diftant re- lation unexpectedly put him in pofleffion of an eftate, which, though of fmall extent, was opu- lence 352 T H E M I R R O R. N 50. lence to one that wifhed for nothing more than independence, and the difpofal of his own time. After many ufelefs remonftrances upon my part, he fet out for his manfion in the country, with his mother, and a nephew of eight years old, refolved, as he faid, to engage immediately in fome work to be laid before the public ; and having previoufly given me his word that he would annually dedicate a portion of his time to the fociety of his friends in town. In the courfe of eighteen months, however, I did not fee him ; and finding that his letters, which had at firft been full of his happinefs, his occupations, and the progrefs of his work, were daily becom- ing fhorter, and fomewhat myfterious on the two laft of thefe points, I refolved to fatisfy myfelf with my own remarks with regard to his fituation. I arrived in the evening, and was fhown into the parlour ; where the firft objects that caught my attention were a fiming-rod, and two fowl- ing-pieces, in a corner of the room, and a brace of pointers ftretched upon the hearth. On a table lay a German flute, fome mufic, a pair of fhuttle-cocks, and a volume of the Annual Re- gifter. Looking from the window, I difcovered my friend in his waiftcoat, with a fpade in his hand, moft diligently cultivating a fpot of ground in the kitchen- garden. Our mutual joy, and congratu- N 50. T H E M I R R O R. 353 congratulations at meeting, it is needlefs to trouble you with. In point of figure I could not help remarking, that Mordaunt^ though moft negligently apparelled, was altered much for the better, being now plump, rofy, and robuft, inftead of pale and flender as formerly. Before returning to the houfe, he infifted that I mould furvey his grounds^ which, in his own opinion, he faid, he had rendered a paradife, by modeftly feconding and bringing forth the intentions of nature. I was conducted to a young grove, which he had planted himfelf, refted in a hut which he had built, and drank from a rivulet for which he had tracked a channel with his own hands. During the courfe of this walk, we were attended by a flock of tame pigeons, which he fed with grain from his pocket, and had much converfation with a ragged family of little boys and girls, all of whom feemed to be his intimate acquaintance. Near a village in our way homewards, we met a let of country- men, engaged at cricket ; and foon after, a mar- riage company, dancing the bride's dance upon, the green. My friend, with a degree of gaiety and alacrity which I had never before feen him difplay, not only engaged himfelf, but compelled me likewife to engage, in the exercife of the one y and the merriment of the other. In a field be- fore his door, an old horfe, blind of one eye, VOL. I. A A came 354 T H E M I R R O R. N 50. came up to us at his call, and eat the remainder of the grain from his hand. Our converfation for that evening, relating chiefly to the fituation of our common friends, the memory of former fcenes in which we had both been engaged, and other fuch fubjedts as friends naturally converfe about after a long ab- fence, afforded me little opportunity of fatisfy- ing my curioiity. Next morning I arofe at my wonted early hour, and ftepping into his ftudy, found it unoccupied. Upon examining a heap of books and papers that lay confufedly mingled on the table and the floor, I was furprifed to find, that by much the greater part of them, inftead of politics, metaphyfics, and morals (the fciences connected with his fcheme of writing), treated of Belles Lettres, or were calculated merely for amufement. The Tale of a Tub lay open on the table, and feemed to have concluded the ftudies of the day before. The letters of Junius, Brydons Travels, the World, TriJIram Shandy, and two or three volumes of the Brltijh Poets, much ufed, and very dirty, lay fcattered above a heap of quarto's, which, after blowing the duft from them, I found to be an Effay on the Wealth of Nations, Helvetius de VEfprit, Humes EJJays, the Spirit of Laws, Bayle, and a commonplace-book. The laft contained a great deal of paper, and an excellent arrangement, under N 5 o. T H E M I R R O R. 355 under the heads of which, excepting thofe of anecdote and criticifm, hardly any thing was collected. The papers in his own hand-writing were a" parallel between Mr. Grays Elegy, and ParncTs Night-piece on Death ; fome detached thoughts on propriety of conduct and behaviour; a Fairy Tale in verfe ; and feveral letters to the Author of the MIRROR, all of them blotted and unfinifhed. There was befides a journal of his occupations for feveral weeks, from which, as it affords a picture of his fituation, I tranfcribe a part. Thurfday, eleven at night, 'went to bed : ordered my firvant to wake me at fix, refolding to be bufy all next day. Friday morning : Waked a quarter before Jix ; fell ajleep again, and did not wake till eight. Till nine, read thejirjl aft of Voltaire's Maho- met, as it was too late to begin ferious bujinefs. Ten : Having fwaUowed ajhort breakfajl, 'went out for a moment in my flippers The wind having left the eajl, am engaged, by the beauty of the day, to continue my walk Find a fituation by the river, 'where the found of my flute produced a very fin- gular and beautiful echo made a flairza and a half by way of addrefs to it viflt the fljepherd lying ill of a low fever flnd him fomewh at better, (Mem. to fend him fome wine) meet the parjon, and cannot avoid ajking him to dinner returning home, fad my reapers at workfuperintend them A A 2 in 3$6 T H E M I R R O R. N 50. in the abfence of John, whom I fend to inform the boufe of the parfons vifit read, in the mean time, part of Thomfon's Seafons, which I had with me From one to fix , plagued with the parfons news and Jlories* take tip Mahomet to put me in good humour JiniJJj it, the time allotted for ferioits Jludy being elapfed at eight, applied to for advice by a poor countryman, who had been opprejfed cannot fay as to the law : give him fome money - walk out at fun-fct, to conjider the caufes of the pleafure arifmg jrom it at nine, fup, and fit till eleven, hearing my nephew read, and converjing with my mother, who was remarkably well and cheerful go to bed. Saturday : Some company arrived to be filed tip to-morrow (for that and the two fucceed- ing days, there was no further entry in the journal). Tuefday, waked at f even -^ but the weather being rainy, and threatening to confine me a/I day, lay till after nine Ten, breakfajled and read the news-papers very dull and drowjy Eleven, day clears up, and I refolve on a Jhort ride to clear my head* A few days refidence with him fhowed me that his life was in reality, as it is here repre- fented, a medley of feeble exertions, indolent pleafures, fecret benevolence, and broken refo- lutions* Nor did he pretend to conceal from me, that his activity was not now fo conftant as it had been j but he infilled that he ftill could, when N -50. THE MIRROR. 357 \vhen he thought proper, apply with his former vigour, and flattered himfelf, that thefe frequeat deviations from his plan of employment, which, in reality, were the fruit of indolence and weak- nefs, arofe from reafon and conviction. After all) faid he to me one day, when I was endea- vouring to undeceive him, after all, granting 'what you allege, if I be happy, and I really am fo, what more could acJimty, fame, or preferment ', bejlow upon me ? After a ftay of fome weeks, I departed, convinced that his malady was paft a cure, and lamenting, that fo much real ex- cellence and ability fhould be thus, in a great meafure, loft to the world, as well as to thek pofleflbr, by the attendance of a fingle fault. I am, Sir, yours, &c. N5r. TUESDAY, July 20, 1779. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. Mr. MIRROR, T A M the daughter of a gentleman of eafy, * though moderate fortune. My mother died a few weeks after I was born ; and before J could be fenfible of the lois, a fifter of her's, the A A 3 widow 353 T H E M I R R O R. N 51. widow of an Englifh gentleman, carried me to London, where fhe refided. As my aunt had no children, I became the chief object of her af- fections ; and her favourite amufement confifted in fuperintending my education. As I grew up, I was attended by the beft mafters ; and every new accomplifliment I acquired, gave frefh plea- fure to my kind benefactrefs. But her own con- verfation tended more than any thing elfe to form and to improve my mind. Well acquaint- ed herfelf with the beft authors in the Engltfh, French, and Italian languages, fhe was careful to put into my hands fuch books as were beft calculated to cultivate my underftanding, and to regulate my tafte. But, though fond of reading and retirement, my aunt thought it her duty to mingle in fo- ciety, as much as her rank and condition re- quired. Her houfe was frequented by many perfons of both fexes, diftinguimed for elegance of manners, and politenefs of converfation. Her tendernefs made her defirous to find out com- panions for me of my own age ; and, far from being diflatisfied with our youthful Tallies, me feemed never better pleafed than when fhe could add to our amufement and happinefs. In this manner I had pafled my time, and had entered my feventeenth year, when my aunt was feized with an .indifpofition, which alarmed me much, although her phyficians affured me it was bjr N 51. T H E M I R R O R. 359 by no means dangerous. My fears increafed, on obferving, that fhe herfelf thought it ferious. Her tendernefs feemed, if poffible, to increafe ; and, though fhe was defirous to conceal her ap- prehenfions, I have fometimes, when fhe ima- gined I did not obferve it, found her eyes fixed on me with a mixture of folicitude and com- paffion, that never failed to overpower me. One day fhe called me into her clofet, and, after embracing me tenderly, " My dear Har- " riet" faid fhe, " it is vain to diflemble longer : " I feel my ftrength decay fo faft, that I know " we foon muft part. As to myfelf, the ap- " proach of death gives me little uneafinefs ; " and I thank Almighty God that I can look " forward to that awful change, without dread, " and without anxiety. But when I think, my " child, of the condition in which I fhall leave " you, my heart fwells with anguifh ! -You *' know my fituation ; poflefled of no fortune, " the little I have faved from my jointure will " be altogether inadequate to fupport you in that " fociety in which you have hitherto lived. " When 1 look back on my conduct towards " you, I am not fure that it has been altogether no ^ ucn deception as the theatrical is pre- " tended." Mr. delivered this with the manner of one who had ftudied the fubjec~l, and nobody ventured to anfwer him. " You were mentioning," faid Mrs. , " Voltaire^ imitation of Othello^ in this tragedy ; " I recollecl:,in the laft acl, a very ftrong inflance C C 2 "of 383 THE MIRROR. N 54. " of it, the concluding fpeech of Ofman^ before " he ftabs himfelf, which feems to be exactly " taken from that of the Moor, in a fimilar fitua- " tion." " I remember both fpeeches well," faid Sir H , " and I think it may be dif- " puted, whether either of them be congenial u to the fituation ?" " You will excufe me, " Sir H ," faid I, " if I hold them both " perfectly in nature. The calmnefs of defperate " and irremediable grief will give vent to a fpeech *' longer and more methodical than the imme- " diate anguim of iome lefs deep and irretriev- " able calamity. Shakcfpeare makes Othello refer, " in the inftant of ftabbing himfelf, to a ftory of " his killing a 'Turk in Aleppo ; the moment of " perturbation, when fuch a paiTage would have " been unnatural, is paft ; the act of killing him- " felf is then a matter of little importance ; and " his reference to a ftory feemingly indifferent, " marks, in my opinion, moft forcibly, and na- " turally, the deep and fettled horror on Othello's " foul. I prefer it to the concluding lines of the " Sultan's fpeech in Zara, which reft on the ftory <4 of his own misfortune : Tell 'em, I plung'd my dagger in her breaft ; Tell 'em, I fo ador'd, and thus reveng'd her." * You have talked a great deal of the author," faid the young lady, " but nothing of the actors* H Was not the part of Zara excellently per- 7 " formed ?" N 54. THE MIRROR. 389 " formed ?" " Admirably, indeed," replied Mr. ; " I know no a&refs who poflefles 44 the power of fpeaking poetry beyond Mifs 44 Yomnge" " Nor of feeling it neither, Sir, " I think." " I did not mean to deny her " that quality ; but, in the other, I think (he is 44 unrivalled. She does not Breach, perhaps, the 41 impafiioned burft, the electric flam of Mrs. 44 Barry; nor has fhe that deep and thrilling note *' of horror with which Mrs. Tales benumbs an " audience ; but there is a melting tremble in her " voice, which, in tender paflages, is inimitably " beautiful and affecting. Were I poet, I fhould *' prefer her fpeaking of my lines to that of any " actrefs I ever heard." 44 She owes, I believe," faid our Frenchman^ " much of her prefent excellence to her ftudy 44 of the French Jlage. I mean not to detract 44 from her merit : I certainly allow her more, ** when I fay, that her excellence is, in great " part, of her own acquirement, than fome of " her ill-judging admirers, who afcribe it all to " Nature. Our acStors, indeed, are rarely fen- " fible how much ftudy and application is due 44 to their profeffion ; people may be fpouters 4t without culture ; but laborious education alone 44 can make perfect a&ors. Feeling, and the 44 imitative fympathy of paflion, are, undoubt- 44 edly, derived from Nature ; but Art alone can " beftow that grace, that refined expreffion, with- c c 3 " out 350 THE MIRROR. N 55. 1 out which feeling will often be awkward, and " paffion ridiculous." z N55- TUESDAY, Auguft ^ 1779, Dccipimur fpecie re&i. HOR. QINCERITY, hy which I mean honefty in men's ^ dealings with each other, is a virtue praifed by every one, and the practice of it is, I believe, more common than gloomy moralifts are willing to allow. The love of truth, and of juftice, are fo ftrongly implanted in our minds, that few men are fo hardened, or fo infenfible, as know- ingly and deliberately to commit dimoneft ac- tions; and a little obfervation foon convinces thofe who are engaged in a variety of tranfac- tions, that honefty is wifdom, and knavery folly. But though, according to this acceptation of the phrafe, men are feldom infmcere, or literally difhoneft, in the ordinary tranfaclions of life ; yet, I believe, there is another and a higher fpecies of fmcerity, which is very feldom to be met with in any degree of perfection ; I mean that fmcerity which leads a man to be honeft N 55. T H E M I R R O R. 391 honeft to himfelf, arid to his own mind, and which will prevent him from being impofed upon, or deceived by his own paffions and in- clinations. From that fecret approbation which our mind leads us to give to what is virtuous and honourable, we cannot eafily bear the con- fcioufnefs of being difhoneft. Hence, there- fore, when men are defirous to give way to their evil inclinations and paffions, they are willing, nay, at times, they are even at pains to deceive themfelves. They look out for forne fpecious apology, they feek for fome colour and difguife, by which they may reconcile their conduct to the appearance of right, and may commit wrong, under the belief that they are innocent, nay, fometimes, that they are acting a praife-wprthy part. Thus there are men who would abhor the thought of deceiving others, who are con- ftantly deceiving themfelves ; and, while they believe that they are fmcere, and are really fo, in the reftricted fenfe in which I have ufed this word, are, in all the important actions of their life, under the influence of deceit. Eubulus is a judge in one of the courts of law. Eubulus believes himfelf a very honeft judge ; and it is but doing him juftice to al- low, that he would not, for any confideration, knowingly, give an unjuft decifion ; yet Eu- bulus hardly ever gave a fair judgment in any caufe where he was connected with, or knew any c c 4 thing 39* THE MIRROR. N 55. thing about the parties. If either of them hap- pen to be his friend or relation, or connected with his friends or relations, Eubulus is fure always to fee the caufe in a favourable light for that friend. If, on the other hand, one of the parties happens to be a perfon whom Eubulus has a diflike to, that party is fure to lofe his fuit. In the one cafe, he fits down to examine the caufe, under all the influence and partiality of friend (hip ; his cool fenfes are run away with ; his judgment is blinded, and he fees no- thing but the arguments on the fide of his friend, and overlooks every thing ftated againft him. In the other cafe, he acts under the imr preflions of diflike, and his judgment is accord- ingly fo determined. A caufe was lately brought before Eubulus^ where every feeling of humanity and compaffion prompted the wifh, that one of the parties might be fuccefsful ; but the right was clearly on the other fide. Eubulus fat down to examine it with all the tender feelings full in his mind ; they guided his judgment, and he determined contrary to juftice. During all this, JLubulus believes himfelf honeft. In one fenfe of the word he is fo ; he does not, knowingly or deliberately, give a difhoneft judgment ; but, in the higher and more extenfive meaning of the word, he is difhoneft. He fuffers himfelf to be impofed on by the feelings of friendship and hu- manity. Nay, far from guarding againft it, he aids NO 55. THE MIRROR. 393 aids the impofition, and becomes the willing dupe to his own inclinations. Licinius was a man of learning and of fancy: he lived at a time when the factions of this country were at their greateft height : he entered into all of them with the greateft warmth, and, in fome of the principal tranfactions of the time, acted a confiderable part. With warm attach- ments, and ungoverned zeal, his opinions were violent, and his prejudices deep-rooted. Licinius wrote a hiftory of his own times : his zeal for the interefts he had efpoufed is confpicuous ; the influence of his prejudices is apparent ; his opi- nion of the characters of the men of whom he writes, is almoft every where dictated by his knowledge of the party to which they belonged ; and his belief or difbelief of the difputed facts of the time, is directed by the connections they had with his own favourite opinions. Pbldlppus cannot talk with patience of this hiftory or its author ; he never fpeaks of him but as of a mean lying fellow, who knowingly wrote the tales of a party, and who, to ferve a faction, wilhed to deceive the Public. Pbldlppus is miftaken : 2J- clnlus, in one fenfe of the word, was perfectly honeft ; he did not wifti to deceive ; but he was himfelf under the influence of deception. The heat of his fancy, the violence of his zeal, led him away ; convinced that he was much in the right, he was defirous to be ftill more fo ; he viewed, 394 T H E M I R R OR. N 55. viewed, and was at pains to view every thing in one light ; all the characters, and all the tranf- aHons of the time, were feen under one colour ; and, under this deception, he faw, and thought, and wrote. When Phidippus accufes Licmius of being wilfully difhoneft, he is miftaken, and is under the influence of a like deception with that of Llcinlus. Licinius wrote unfairly, becaufe he faw every thing in one light, and was not at pains to guard againft felf-deception, or to cor- rect erroneous judgment. Phidippus judges of Licinius unfairly, becaufe he alfo is under the in- fluence of party, becaufe his fyftetn and opinions are different from thofe of Licinius, and becaufe this leads him to judge harfhly of every one who thinks like Licinius. Lyfander is a young man of elegance and fenti- ment ; but he has a degree of vanity which makes him wifti to be poflefled of fortune, not to hoard, but to fpend it. He has a high opinion of fe- male merit ; and would not, for any confidera- tion, think of marrying a woman for whom he did not believe he felt the moft fincere and ar- dent attachment. In this fituation of mind he became acquainted with Leonora : Leonoras fa- ther was dead, and had left her poflefled of a very confiderable fortune ; Lyfander had heard of Leonora^ and knew me was poflefled of a fortune before ever he faw her. She is not re- markable either for the beauties of perfon or of mmdj N $5. T H E M I R R O R. 395 mind ; but the very firft time Lyfander faw her, he conceived a prepofleflion in her favour, and which has now grown into a ftrong attachment. Lyfander believes it is her merit only which has produced this ; and he would hate himfelf, if he thought Leonoras being poflefled of a fortune had had the leaft influence upon him. But he is miftaken ; he does not know himfelf, nor that fecret power, the defire of wealth has over him. The knowledge of Leonoras being an heirefs, made him fecretly wifli her to be poflefled of perfonal merit before he faw her ; when he did fee her, he converted his wifhes into belief; he deiired to be deceived, and he was fo. He con- ceived that me was poflefled of every accom- plifhment of perfon and of mind ; and his ima- gination being once warmed, he believed and thought that he felt a moft violent attachment. Had Leonora been without a fortune, me would never have drawn Lyfander 's attention ; he would have never thought more highly of her merit than he did of that of moft other women ; and he would not have become the dupe of his wifhes and defires. Amanda is a young lady of the moft amiable difpofitions. With an elegant form, me poflefles a moft uncommon degree of fenfibility. Her parents refide at Bellfield, in a fequeftered part of the country, Here me has few opportu- nities of being in fociety, and her time has chiefly 39 6 THE MIRROR. N* 55. chiefly been fpent in reading. Books of fenti- ment, novels, and tender poetry, are her greateft favourites. This kind of reading has increafed the natural warmth and fenfibility of her mind : it has given her romantic notions of life, and particularly warm and paffionate ideas about love. The attachment of lovers, the fweet union of hearts, and hallowed fympathy of fouls, are con- tinually pictured in her mind. Philemon, a dif- tant relation of Amanda , happened to pay a vifit to Bellfield. Amanda $ romantic notions had hitherto been general, >and had no object to fix upon. But it is difficult to have warm feel- ings long, without directing them to fome object. After a fhort acquaintance, Philemon became very particular in his attentions to her. Amanda was not difpleafed with them ; on the contrary, {he thought fhe faw in him all thofe good qualities which fhe felt in her own mind. Every look that he gave, and every word that he fpoke, confirmed her in this. Every thing fhe wifhed to be in a lover, every thing her favourite au- thors told her a lover ought to be poflefled of, flie believed to be in Philemon. Her parents per- ceived the fituation of her mind. In vain did they reprefent to her the danger fhe run, and that fhe had not yet acquaintance enough of Philemon to know any thing, with certainty, about his character. She afcribed thefe admonitions to the too great coldnefs and prudence of age, and fhe difregarded N 55. THE MIRROR. 397 disregarded them. Thus did Amanda believe herfelf deeply enamoured with Philemon; but it could not be with Philemon , for me knew little of him. She was the dupe of her own wiflies ; and fhe deceived herfelf into a belief that (he was warmly attached to him, when it was only an ideal being of her own creation that was the object of her pafiion. Philemon may be worthy of the love of Amanda^ or Amanda may be able to preferve the deception {he is under even after marriage ; but her danger is apparent. The influence of felf-deception is wonderfully powerful. Different as are the above perfons, and different as are their fituations, all have been under its guidance. As obferved above, difho- nefty, in our ordinary tranfaclions in the world, is a vice which only the moft corrupted and abandoned are in danger of falling into ; but that difhonefty with ourfelves, which leads us to be our own deceivers, to become the dupes of our own prevailing paffions and inclinations, is to be met with more or lefs in every character. Here we are, as it were, parties to the deceit, and, inftead of wifhing to guard againft it, we become the willing flaves of its influence. By this means, not only are bad men deceived by evil paffions into the commiffion of crimes, but even the worthieft men, by giving too much way to the bell and moft amiable feelings of the heart, 39$ T H E M I R R O R. N* 55. heart, may be led into fatal errors, and into the moft prejudicial mifcondut. Did men, however, endeavour to guard againft the influence of this felf-deceit ; did they coolly, and on all interefting occafions, examine into the principles and motives of their conduct ; did they view themfelves not under the mift and cover of paffion, but with the eyes of an impartial fpec- tator, much might be done to avoid the dangers I have pointed out. S N 56. SATURDAY, Augujl 7, 1779. TH E firft of the two following Letters I re- ceived fome time ago from my friend Mr. Umphraville ; and I think I need make no apo- logy, either to him or my readers, for giving it a place in this day's MIRROR. T MY DEAR SIR, HE moment that I found myfelf difengaged from bufmefs, you know I left the frnoke and din of your blefled city, and hurried away to pure ikes and quiet at my cottage. I found N 56. THE MIRROR. 399 I found my good fifter in perfect health, free from flying rheumatic pains, agueifh complaints, flight megrims, and apprehenfions of the tooth- ach, and all the other puny half-pangs that in- dolence is heir / 2 the 404 THE MIRROR. N 56. the flavour of which he highly commended. An old proverbial recipe was cited to him, by a red- faced gentleman at the bottom of the table, which fignifies, that a man fliould drink a bottle to- day, as a cure for the effe&s of two or three drank yefterday. 'Twas a prefcription very much fuited to the inclination of my friend, who declared, after having drank a bottle of it, that he never was better in all his life. Nobody mentioned the evening being a proper time for walking ; fo we fat till our carriages were at the door, arid till we difpatched four laft bottles after their arrival. The poft-boys, whofe patience needed fome cordial to maintain it, were bufy in their way below ; fo that, when at the laft we got into the chaifes, they were as drunk as drunk as we were. The carriage in which another gen- tleman and I were placed was over-turned about a mile from town : I efcaped with a fprained ancle ; but my friend had his collar-bone broke. Now, Mr. MIRROR, I incline to think, that a man may find a bad dinner, and get drunk after it, juft as well in town as in the country ; and, in the firft cafe, he will have the advantage of faving his bones, the chaife-hire, and the tax upon poft-horfes. I am, &c. CIVIS. V N 57- THE MIRROR. N 57. TUESDAY, Auguft 10, 1779. thinking man will deny, that travelling into foreign countries is, in certain fitua- tions, attended with many and great advantages. It polifhes the manners of the courtier, enlarges the views of the ftatefman, and furnifhes the philofopher with a more extenfive field of ob- fervation, and enables him to form more cer- tain conclufions with regard to the nature and character of man. At the fame time, I have often been difpofed to doubt, how far it is an eligible thing for a private gentleman, without talents and inclination for public life, to fpend much of his time abroad, to acquire a relifh for foreign manners, and a tafte for the fociety of a fet of men, with whom neither his ftation nor his fortune entitles him to aflbciate in the after- part of his life. The following letter on this fubjecl: may, perhaps, be acceptable to my readers : 4 o6 T H E M I R R O R. N 57. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR, SIR, T% /T o s T of your predeceflbrs have favoured the public with fpeculations on travelling ; and they have been at pains to point out the abufes of it that from time to time have pre- vailed among us. In the Spe&atof) the abfurdity of a fond mother and mother's own fon going together to make the tour of Europe, in order to learn men and things, is expofed in a very maf- terly manner. If I have not been mitinformed, that admirable efTay was the production of a young man, who afterwards, by his great talents and eminent virtues, added dignity to the higheft office in the law of England, which he filled many years with the entire approbation of all good men. In the World, the folly of fending an ig- norant booby to travel, who looked with con- tempt on the French and Italians, becaufe they did not fpeak Englijh, is held up to ridicule in a vein of wit, and with an elegance of expreffion, that mark the compofitions of the Earl of Cbefterfald, A correfpondent in your own paper has point- ed out the fatal effects of a practice, unknown till within thefe few years, offending boys to foreign fchools N 57. THE MIRROR. 407 fchools, or academies, where, according to his account of the matter, they learn nothing but vice and folly. Although travelling has proved equally fatal to me, my cafe is very different from any of thofe I have mentioned ; I (hall, therefore, take the liberty to give an account of myfelf, from which you and your readers will be beft able to judge, whether making what is called the grand tour^ be an advifable thing for perfons in my circumstances and fituation. I am the only fon of a gentleman of fortune and family. My father, who was himfelf a man of letters, wifhed to give me a liberal edu- cation, and was defirous to unite the folidity of the ancient fyftem with that eafe and grace, which, of late, have been cultivated fo much, and which, by fome, have been thought the moft eflential of all acquirements. Soon after my twentieth year my father died, leaving me poflefled of a family-eftate of a thoufand pounds a-year, and (I hope I may fay it without vanity) with as great a (hare of knowledge as any of my contemporaries could boaft of. The tour of Europe was the only thing wanting to complete my education. Intimately acquainted with the celebrated characters of antiquity, and an en- thufiaftic admirer of their virtues, I longed to vifit Italy ^ to fee the fpot where Sctfio triumphed, where Cafor fell, where Cicero harangued. Full r> D 4 of 4 o8 THE MIRROR. N 57. of thefe ideas, I fet out on my travels ; and, after paffing fome time in France, I proceeded to Rome. For a while, antiquity was my great ob- ject, and every remain of Roman greatnefs at- tracted my attention. Afterwards mujic, of which I had always been a lover, and paint- ing, for which I acquired a tafte in Italy, occu- pied much of my time ; but, whilft engaged in thefe favourite purfuits, I did not neglect any opportunity of mingling in fociety with the na- tives, and of obferving their manners and cuftoms. I lived too on the moft intimate footing with the Britifh at the different courts I vifited ; and I doubted not that the friendfhips I then formed with men of the firft diftinction in my own country, would be as lading as they appeared to be warm and fmcere. If the pleafures in which we indulged, arid which, by degrees, came to occupy almoft the whole of my time, fometimes bordered on the licentious, they were at leaft attended with an elegance, which, in fome meafure, difguifed the defor- mity of vice. Various reafons, which it is needlefs now to mention, at length conftrained me to return home. As I approached my feat in the county of ? I felt a tender fatisfaclion at the thought of revifiting thofe fcenes where I had fpent fo many happy days in the " early morn f ltf e " anc l of feeing again the companions of N 57- T H E M I R R O R. 409 of my youthful fports, many of whom I knew had fettled in the country, and lived on their cftates in my neighbourhood. My arrival was no fooner known, than they flocked to welcome me home. The friends of my father, and their fons, my old companions, were equally fmcere and warm in their compliments ; but, though I was pleafed with their attachment, I could not help being difgufted with the blunt plainnefs of their manners. Their converfation ufually turned on fubjedts in which I could not poflibly be interefled. The old got into keen political debate, or diflertations on farming ; and the young talked over their laft fox-chafe, or recited the particulars of their laft debauch. If I at- tempted to give the converfation a different turn, they remained filent, and were altogether inca- pable to talk of thofe fubjects on which I had been accuftomed to think and to fpeak. If I mentioned the GabrielH^ or the Mignotti^ they were as much at a lofs as I was when they joined in praifmg the notes of Juno or of Jowler : if the proportions of Venus of Medicis were talked of, one would perhaps afk, what a dead beauty was good for ? another would fwear, that, in his mind, Polly was a better-made girl than any heathen goddefs, dead or alive. By degrees my neighbours gave me up alto- gether. They complained that I was a ftrange fellow, 4 io THE MIRROR. N 8 57. fellow, who hated company, and had no notion, of life. I confefs I was rather pleafed with their neglect, and in my own mind preferred folitude to fuch fociety : but folitude at length became irkfome, and I longed again to mingle in focietv. With that view I went to the races m at Edinburgh^ where I was told I fiiould meet with all the polite people of this country. The night I arrived, I accompanied to the aflembly a female relation, almoft the only acquaintance I had in town. If yon, Mr. MIRROR, be a fre- quenter of public places, I need not tell you how much I was (Iruck on entering the room. Dark, dirty, mean, offenfive to every fenfe, it feemed to referable a large barn, rather than a room allotted for the reception of polite com- pany. I had no fooner entered, than I was hur- ried along by the crowd to the farther end of the hall, where the firft thing that caught my eye was an old lady, who, it feems, prefided for the night, and was at that inftant employed in diftri- buting tickets, to afcertain the order in which the ladies were to dance. She was furrounded by a clufter of perfons of both fexes, all of whom fpoke at the fame time, and fome of them, as I thought, with a voice and gefture rather rough and vehement. This important part of the ceremonial being at length adjufted, the dancing began. My con. dudtref^ N* 57- THE MIRROR. 4 n ductrefs afked me, if I did not think the ladies, in general, handfome ? I told her (and that without any compliment), that I thought them more than commonly beautiful ; " but me- " thinks," added I, " the gentlemen are not, " either in dreis or appearance, fuch as I Ihould