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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 5, MS 
 
 M P O N THE 
 
 RISE and PROGRESS 
 
 O F 
 
 CRITICISM. 
 
 'X
 
 . TN 
 
 V P O N THE 
 
 RISE and PROGRESS 
 
 O F 
 
 CRITICISM. 
 
 THOSE, who can imagine that 
 the Rules of Writing were firft 
 eflablifhed, and that then men 
 wrote in conformity to them, 
 as they make conferves and comfits by 
 referring to receipt-books, know nothing 
 of Criticifm, either as to its origin or 
 progrefs. The truth is, they were Au- 
 thors, who made the firft good Critics, 
 and not Critics, who made the firft good 
 Authors, however writers of later date 
 may have profited by the precepts of 
 critical difquifitions. 
 
 If this appear ftrange, we may refer to 
 other fubjec"ts. Can we doubt that there 
 was Mufic, fuch indeed as it was, before 
 the principles of harmony were eflablifh- 
 ed into a Science ? that difeafes were 
 B 2 healed,
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 Sealed, and buildings created, before Me- 
 dicine and Architecture were lyftematized 
 into Arts ? that men reafoned and ha- 
 rangued upon matters of practice and fpe- 
 culation, long before there were profeft 
 teachers either of Logic or of Rhetoric ? 
 To return therefore to our fubject, the 
 rife and progrefs of Criticifm. 
 
 Antient Greece in its happy days was 
 the feat of Liberty, of Sciences, and of 
 Arts. In this fair region, fertile of wit, 
 the Epic Writers came firfl > then the 
 Lyric j and laftly the Tragic, the Comic y 
 the Hijlorians, and the Orators^ each in 
 their turns delighting whole multitudes, 
 and commanding the attention and ad- 
 miration of all. Now, when wife and 
 thinking men, the fubtle inveftigators of 
 principles and caufes, cbferved the won- 
 derful effect of thefe Works upon the 
 human mind, they were prompted to in- 
 quire whence this Jhould proceed j for that 
 it fhould happen merely from Chance y they 
 could not well believe. Here therefore 
 we have the Rise and Origin of Cri- 
 ticism, which in its beginning was " a 
 
 J* deep
 
 (5 ) 
 
 "deep and philosophical Search into the 
 " primary Laws and Elements of good 
 " Writing, as far as they could be col- 
 " le&ed from the moft approved Perfor- 
 <l mances." 
 
 In this contemplation of Authors, the firfi 
 Critics not only attended to the Powers, 
 and different Species of Words ; the 
 Force of numerous compojition whether in 
 profe or verfe j the Aptitude of its 'vari- 
 ous kinds to different JubjeSis 5 but they 
 farther confider'd that, which is the baiis 
 of all, that is to fay in other words, the 
 Meaning or the Sense, This led them 
 at once into the moft curious of fubjects ; 
 the nature of Man in general ; the dif- 
 ferent characters of men^ as they differ in 
 rank or age ; our Reafon and Pajjions 5 
 how the one was to be perfuaded, and the 
 others raifed or calmed; the Places or 
 RepofttorieSy to which we may recur, when 
 we want proper matter for any of thefe 
 purpofes 5 Sentiments and Manners ; what 
 conftitutes a Work, one ; what, a Whole 
 and Parts - y what the effence of juft, and 
 even true FicJion, as oppofed to that, 
 which is improbable, and out of nature. 
 B 3 Much
 
 (6) 
 
 Much of this kind may be found in 
 different parts of Plato. But Aristo- 
 tle his Difciple, who may be called the 
 Syftematizer of his Matter's Doctrines, 
 has in his two Treatifes of Poetry and 
 Rhetoric, with fuch wonderful concifenefs, 
 penetration, and order, exhaufted the fub- 
 ject, of which we are fpeaking, that he 
 may be juftly called the Father of 
 Criticism, as well from the age when 
 he lived, as from his truly great and tran- 
 fcendent genius. The Criticifm, which 
 this divine man taught, has fo intimate a 
 correfpondence and alliance with Philofo- 
 phy, that it may be truly called, Philo- 
 sophical Criticism. 
 
 ToArifiotle fucceeded his Difciple Tbeo- 
 phrafius, who followed his matter's ex- 
 ample in the ftudy of Criticifm, as may 
 be feen in the lift of his writings, pre- 
 fer ved by Diogenes Laertius. But all the 
 critical works of Theophraflus, as well as 
 of many others, are now loft. The prin- 
 cipal authors of this kind now remaining 
 in Greek, after Arijiotle, are, Demetrius 
 of Phalera, Dionyjius of HalicarnaffuSy 
 8 Dionyjius
 
 (7) 
 
 Dionyjhts Longinus, together with Her* 
 mogenesy Apthonius, and a few others. 
 
 Of thefe the moft mafterly feems to be 
 JDemetrius, who was the earlieft, and who 
 appears to follow the Precepts, and even 
 the Text of Arijiotle, with far greater at- 
 tention, than any of the reft. His Ex~ 
 amples, it muft be confefled, are fome- 
 . times obfcure, but that we may rather 
 impute to the deftrudtive hand of time, 
 which has prevented us the fight of the 
 original authors. 
 
 Dionyjius of Halicarnajfus, the next in 
 order, may be faid to dwell almoft wholly 
 upon the force of numerous Compofition, 
 meddling little with the fublimer, and 
 more effential fources of good writing, 
 becaufe perhaps hi$ genius did not afpire 
 fo high. LonginuSy who was in time 
 far later than thefe, feems principally to 
 have had in view the PaJJions, and the 
 Imagination, in which he has acquitted 
 himfelf with a juft applaufe, and written 
 with a dignity fuitable to the fubjedt. 
 The reft of the Greek Critics, tho' they 
 have faid many good things, have yet fo 
 B 4 minutely
 
 ( s ) 
 
 minutely multiplied the rules of Art, and 
 fo far confined themfelves to the oratory 
 of the Tribunal, that they appear not 
 of much ufe, as to good writing in ge- 
 neral; 
 
 Among the Romans, the firft Critic of 
 any note was Cicero, who, though far 
 below Arifiotle in depth of philofophy, 
 may be faid, like him, to have exceeded 
 all his countrymen. As his celebrated 
 Treatife concerning the Orator is written in 
 dialogue, where the fpeakers introduced 
 are the greateft men of his nation, we 
 have incidentally an elegant fample of 
 thofe manners, and that politenefs, which 
 were peculiar to the leading characters 
 during the Roman Commonwealth. There 
 we may fee the behaviour of free and ac- 
 complifhed men hmGmm, before court- adula- 
 tion had fet that flandard, which has been 
 falfly taken for good-breeding ever fince. 
 
 Next to Cicero came Horace, who often 
 in other parts of his writings acts the CW- 
 tic and Scholar, but whofe Art of "Poetry 
 is a ftandard of its kind, and too well 
 known to need any encomium. After 
 
 Horace
 
 (9) 
 
 Horace arofe gfuintilian, Cicero's admirer, 
 and follower, who appears by his works not 
 only learned and ingenious, but (what is 
 flill more) an honeft and worthy man. He 
 Jikewife dwells too much upon the forenfic 
 Oratory, a facl: not to be admired, when 
 we confider the age in which he lived ; 
 an age, when tyrannic Government be- 
 ing the famion of the times, that nobler 
 Species of Eloquence ', I mean the popular, 
 and deliberative, was with all things truly 
 liberal, degenerated and funk. The latter 
 Latin Rhetoricians there is no need to 
 mention, as they no way illunxate the 
 fubjecl: in hand. I would only repeat 
 that the fpecies of Criticifm here men- 
 tioned, as far at leaft as handled by the 
 more able Mailers, is that which we de- 
 nominate Criticism philosophical. 
 We are now to proceed to another fpecies. 
 As to the Criticifm already treated, we 
 find it not confined to any one particu- 
 lar Author, but containing general Rules 
 pf Art, either for judging or writing, 
 confirmed by the example not of one 
 Author, but of many. But we know 
 
 from
 
 from experience that in procefs of time 
 both Languages, Cufloms, Manners, Laws, 
 Governments, and Religions infenfibly al- 
 ter. The Macedonian Tyranny, after the 
 fatal battle of Chceronea, wrought much 
 of this change in Greece , and the Roman 
 Tyranny, after the fatal battle of Phar^ 
 falia, carried it throughout the known 
 world. Hence therefore of things obfo- 
 lete the names became obfolete alfo } and 
 authors, who in their own age were in- 
 telligible and eafy, in future days grew 
 difficult and obfeure. Here then we may 
 behold the rife of afecond race of Critics , 
 the tribe of Scholia/is, Commentators, and 
 Explainers. 
 
 Thefe neceflarily attached themfelves 
 to particular authors. Arijlarchus, Didy r 
 mttSy EuflathiuSy and many others be- 
 flowed their labours upon Homer -, Proclus, 
 and Tzctzes upon Hejiod $ Calliergus upon 
 Theocritus , Donatus upon Terence , Ser- 
 vius upon Virgil , Acron and Porphyry 
 upon Horace, and fo with refpect to others, 
 as well Philofophers, as Orators. To thefe 
 Scholiafts may be added the feveral Com- 
 
 pofers
 
 ( II ) 
 
 pofers of Lexicons ; fuch as Hefychi-us^ 
 Philoxenus, Suidas, &c. alfo the Writers 
 upon Grammar, fuch as Apollonius, Prif- 
 cian, Sofipater Charifius, &c. Now al} 
 thefe pains- taking men, coniidered toge- 
 ther, pay be faid to have completed an- 
 other fpecies of Criticifm, a fpecies which 
 in diflinc~rion to the former, we may call 
 Criticism historical 
 
 And thus things continued in a kind of 
 fjckning way, till the extinction of the 
 Lptin empire, and the depravity of the 
 Greek, when both Authors and their Scho- 
 liafts were alike forgot, and an Age fuc- 
 ceeded of Legends and Crufades. 
 
 At length, after a long and barbarous 
 period, when the Mills of Monkery be- 
 gan to difperfe, and the Lights of Huma- 
 nity once again to dawn, the Arts alfo of 
 Criticism infenfibly revived. 'Tis true 
 indeed the Authors of the philosophi- 
 cal sort (I mean that which refpects 
 the caufes and principles of good writing) 
 were not many in number. However of 
 this rank among the Italians was Vida ; 
 among the French were Rapin, Bouhours, 
 
 Boileau,
 
 ( I* ) 
 
 Boileau, together with Bojfu, the moll: me- 
 thodic and accurate of them all. In our 
 own Country our Nobility may be faid 
 to have diftinguifhed themfelves ; Lord 
 Rofcommon in his EfTay upon tranflated 
 Verfe -, the Duke of Buckingham in his 
 Effay on Poetry ; Lord Shaftejbury jn his 
 Charadteriftics thro* every part, but parti- 
 cularly in that admirable tract, The Advice 
 to an Author. To thefe may be added Mr. 
 Pope, in his elegant Poem, the EJfay upon 
 Criticifm; and Mr. Addifon in many of 
 his valuable and polite Spectators, thofe 
 efpecially, that are beftowed upon the 
 Paradife Loji. 
 
 But however fmall the number might 
 be found of thefe, the writers of histo- 
 rical Or EXPLANATORY CRITICISM 
 were in a manner innumerable. To name 
 Only a few^ of Italy among others were 
 Beroaldus, Ficinus, ViSlorius and Rober- 
 tellus ; of the higher and lower Germany 
 were Erafmus, Sylburgius, Sturmius, and 
 Torrentius j of France were Lam bin, Du 
 Vail, Harduin, Capperonerius -, of England 
 were Stanley (editor of Mfchylus) Gataker, 
 8. Davis,
 
 ( '3 ) 
 
 Davis, Clarke, Hutchinfon ; together witit 
 multitudes more from every region and 
 quarter, | 
 
 Thick as autumnal leaves, that fir ow 
 
 the brooks 
 In Vallombrofa 
 
 Nor mull we forget the many copious 
 and valuable Lexicons - 3 the Latin and 
 Greek Thefauri of Charles and Henry Ste- 
 vens; Favorinus, Conjlantine, and the Com- 
 mentary of Budceus. To thefe alfo we 
 may add the Authors upon Grammar -, in 
 which fubjeeT: the learned Greeks, when 
 they quitted the Eaft, led the way, Mof* 
 chopulus, Chryfoloras, Lafcaris, Theodore 
 Gaza ; then in Italy, Laurentius Valla $, 
 in England, Thomas Linacer ; in France, 
 Cafar Scaliger ; in Spain, Santtius -, in 
 the low Countries Voffius -, and laftly, thofe 
 able Writers Mejf. de Port Roial, who 
 feem to have collected the rational part 
 out of all the reft. 
 
 But we are now to inquire after another 
 fpecies of Criticifm. All antient books 
 
 having
 
 (i4) 
 
 F 
 
 having been prcferved by tr'anfcription, 
 were liable thro* ignorance, negligence, 
 br fraud, to be corrupted in three diffe- 
 rent ways, that is to fay, by retrenchings, 
 by additions, and by alterations. 
 
 To remedy thofe evils, a third fort of 
 Criticifm arofd, and that was Criticism 
 corrective. The bufinefs of this at 
 firft Was' painfully to collate all the vari- 
 ous cdpies of authority, and then, from 
 amidft. the variety of readings thus col- 
 lected, to eftablifh by good reafons either 
 the true, or the rnofl probable. In this 
 fenfe we may call fuch Criticifm not only 
 
 CORRECTIVE, but AUTHORITATIVE. 
 
 As the number of thefe corruptions 
 murt needs have iriereafed by length of 
 time, hence it has happened that correct 
 tive Criticifm has become much more ne- 
 ceffary in thefe latter ages, than it was in 
 others more antient. Not but that even 
 in antient days, various readings have 
 been noted. Of this kind there are a 
 .multitude in the Text of Homer, a fact 
 not to be admired, when we confider his 
 great antiquity. In the Comments of Am 
 
 monius
 
 (15) 
 
 monius and Philoponus upon Ariftotle> there 
 is mention made of feveral in the text of 
 that Philofopher, which thefe his Com- 
 mentators compare and examine. But 
 fince the revival of Literature, to correct 
 has been a bufinefs of much more lati- 
 tude, having continually employed for two 
 centuries and a half both the Pains of the 
 moft laborious, and the Wits of the moft 
 acute. Many of the learned men before 
 enumerated were not only famous as hif~ 
 torical Critics, but as corrective alfo. To 
 thefe may be added the two Scatigers, the 
 two Caufabons, Salmafius, the Heinjii, Gra- 
 viusi the Gfenovii, Burman, Kujier, JVaJfe i 
 Bentleji Pearce, and Markland. Not that 
 thefe never meddled with the explanatory 
 Criticifm, but their principal object ap- 
 pears to have been the corrective. 
 
 But here was the misfortune of this laft 
 race of Critics. There were numerous 
 corruptions in many of the beft authors', 
 which neither antient editions, nor manu- 
 fcripts could heal. What then was to be 
 
 done ? Were Forms fo fair to remain 
 
 disfigured, and be feen for ever under 
 
 fuch
 
 ( *6 ) 
 
 jfuch apparent blemifhes ? " No, (fays 
 
 the Critic) " Conjecture can cure all 
 *< - Conjecture, whofe performances are 
 M for the moft part more certain, than 
 " any thing, that we can exhibit from the 
 
 u authority of old Manuferipts *. " 
 
 We will not afk, upon this wonderful, 
 afTertion, bow if Jo certain^ can it be cal- 
 led Conjecture ? ~- 'Tis enough to obferve 
 (be it called as it will) that this fpirit 
 of Conjecture has proved a kind of critical 
 Quackery, which like Quackery of other 
 kinds, whatever it may have boailed, has 
 done more mifchief by far than good. 
 Authors have been taken in hand, like 
 anatomical fubje&s, only to difplay the 
 {kill and abilities of the Artift ; fo that 
 the end of many an edition feems often 
 to have been no more, than to exhibit the 
 great fagacity and polymathy of an edi- 
 tor. The Joy of the tafk was the Ho- 
 nour of mending, while Corruptions were 
 fought with a more than common at- 
 tention, as each of them afforded a tes- 
 timony to the Editor and his Art. 
 
 And 
 
 * &ii Dr, Bentley'i Preface to Horace.
 
 ( *7 ) 
 
 And here I beg leave, by way of di- 
 greflion, to relate a fhort ftory concerning 
 a noted empiric. Being once in a ball- 
 room crowded with company, he was 
 afked by a gentleman, what he thought of 
 fuch a lady f was it not pity that jhe f quint- 
 ed ? Squint ! Sir ! replied the dodtor, 
 I wi/h every lady in the room J quint 'ed; 
 there's not a man in the univerfe can cure 
 fquinting but myfelf. 
 
 But to return to our fubject Well in- 
 deed would it be for the caufe of letters, 
 were this bold conjectural fpirit confined 
 to works of fecond rate, where let it 
 change, expunge, or add as it pleafe, it 
 may be tolerably fure to leave matters as 
 it found them j or if not much better, at 
 leaft not much worfe. But when the di- 
 vine geniufes of higher rank, whom we 
 not only applaud, but in a manner revere, 
 when thefe come to be attempted by pe- 
 tulant correctors, and to be made the fub- 
 ject of their wanton caprice, how can we 
 but exclaim with a kind of religious ab- 
 horrence, 
 
 - 1 procul ! ! procul ejle profani I 
 C 'Twere
 
 ( i8) 
 
 It would have become Dr. Bcntley y 
 though in literature and natural abilities 
 among the firft of his age, had he been 
 more temperate in his Criticifm upon the 
 Paradife loft ; had he not fo repeatedly 
 and injurioufly offered violence to his au- 
 thor, from an affected fuperiority, to which 
 he had no pretence. But when meaner 
 critics prefume to be thus infolent, 'tis 
 enough to make the Genius of each au- 
 thor arife, and accoft them, as Marius 
 did the fervile Cimbrian And doft thou* 
 flave, dare to demolift Shakespear ? 
 Do ft thou, wretch > prefume to murder Mil- 
 ton ? 'Twere only to be wifhed, to 
 
 complete the allufion, that the correctors 
 could have been feared, as effectually as 
 the executioner -. fo that as he droot his 
 weapon y thefe might have dropt their 
 pens, and the art of Criticifm, from their 
 {ibufe y not have been brought into con- 
 tempt. 
 
 For my own part, if I might be per- 
 mitted to advife an adventurous race (thofe 
 I mean who fcribble for pay upon every 
 kind of fubject) I would have them treat 
 
 even
 
 (i9) 
 
 even living authors, their equals, with re- 
 fpect. 'Twould certainly upon the whole 
 be found to be their intereft ; 
 
 haberent 
 
 Plus dapi&y & rixce rrtulto minus invidiceqite. 
 
 But whenever they prefume to meddle 
 with the facred dead, the fublimer wits 
 of ages paft, let them affect (however 
 aukwardly ) the appearance at leaft of 
 modefty ; and if they find (which is not 
 unlikely) the fpirit of pertnefs about to 
 rife, let them admonifh their little heart, 
 as the Frog did his little mother, 
 
 Nonji te ruperis, tnquam> 
 
 Par ens. 
 
 'Tis indeed hard to conceive any thing 
 make a more contemptible figure, than an 
 impertinent commentator in company with 
 a good author j when in fome fplendid 
 volume, gilt and letter'd, we view them 
 together, making their public appearance. 
 'Tis the Conful and the Slave, riding to- 
 C 2 gether
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 gether in the triumphal car ; a motley 
 icene of ferious and ludicrous ; a kind of 
 Tragi-comedy which diflradts our affec- 
 tions, and moves us at the fame inflant 
 both to gravity and mirth. 
 
 And now to avoid a fophiftical cenfure, 
 (as if I were an enemy to the things from 
 being an enemy to its abufe) I would have 
 it remember'd, 'tis not either with Criti- 
 cifm or Critics, that I prefume to find 
 fault. The art, and its genuine profefTors 
 I truly honour, and think, that were it 
 not for the acute and learned labours of a 
 Kujler, a Wajje, a Bur man, and their fel- 
 lows, we mould bid fair to degenerate 
 into an age of dunces. 'Tis in particular 
 to the abilities of the three above-men- 
 tioned, (fince I have happened to name 
 them) that we owe correct, and beautiful 
 editions of Ovid and Quintilian ; of Sa/- 
 luji and c Thucydides ; of Arifiophanes, and 
 that treafure of antient literature, Suidas *. 
 
 'Tis 
 
 * To the critics above-mentioned, I muft add 
 V*vo valuable friends of my own (not before omit- 
 ted, became forgotten) Dr. Taylor Chancellor of 
 
 Lincoln ,
 
 (21) 
 
 'Tis not fuch critics (I name them again, 
 Waffe, Kufter, Burman, and their fellows) 
 'tis not fuch as thefe, that I prefume to 
 contemn. Nay I go farther I think the 
 man, that can deride fuch fcholars as thefe, 
 if he fpeak as he believes, muft be but a 
 poor fcholar himfelf -, but if he be con- 
 fcious of his calumny, I think him fome 
 thing worfe. This is not want of fcho- 
 larfhip, or inexperience in found literature $ 
 
 p Hie ejl nigra fucpus loligi?ii$ } 
 
 hcec eft 
 fErugo mera t 
 
 In iriort, learned critips, whatever we may 
 think of them, are a fort of matters of 
 the ceremony in the court of letters, thro' 
 whofe affiftance we are introduced into 
 
 C 3 fome 
 
 j . ' i 
 
 Lincoln^ and Mr. Upton Prebendary of Rochefler '> 
 whofe critical merit, in their excellent editions or" 
 Demo/lbenes and Epifletus, has juftly rendred them 
 ornaments of their country, and will tranfmit their 
 names with honour to pcfterity. 
 
 His fait em accumulem donis, & fungar inaiti 
 Munere
 
 ( ** ) 
 
 fome of the beft of company. Should 
 we ever therefore, by any idle prejudices 
 againft pedantry, verbal accuracies, and 
 we know not what, come to flight their 
 art, and reject them from our favour, 'tis 
 well we do not flight alfo thofe authors, 
 with whom Criticifm converfes, becom- 
 ing content to read them in crude trans- 
 lations, or (what is {till worfe) in trans- 
 lations of tranflations, where hardly a linea- 
 ment or feature of the original is to be feen. 
 And I will be bold to alTert, that when- 
 ever that day comes, not the moft admired 
 performances of the prefent age, however 
 highly their authors and their friends may 
 efteem them, will be able to fave us from 
 barbarity, and the dominion of dulnefs. 
 
 And fo much at prefent for learned crU 
 tics and editors, (of fuch only I fpeak) 
 whom I mould be forry to fee pafs into 
 contempt, either from the ignorance of 
 low pretenders, the wiles of fophiftry, the 
 bold confidence of fcurrility, or even the 
 charms of wit and poetry, if ever gifts fo 
 divine fhould be fo bafely proftituted. So 
 much alfo for the origin and progrefs of 
 
 Criticism,
 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 Criticism, which we have divided into 
 three fpecies, the philosophical, the 
 historical, and the corrective ; the 
 philofophical treating of the principles, and 
 primary caufes of good writing j the hiflo- 
 rical being converfant in facls, cnJloms y 
 phrafeSy &c* and the corrective being di- 
 vided into the authoritative and the 
 conjectural j the authoritative depend- 
 ing on the collation of ?na?iufcripts and the 
 beft editions -, the conjectural on the fagacity 
 dnd poly mat hy of editors. 
 
 c 4
 
 Knowlege of the World, 
 
 o R 
 
 GOOD COMPANY. 
 
 DIALOGUE. 
 
 Eft genus hominum, qui ejfe primos fe omnium 
 
 rerum volunt* 
 f?e f funt Tcr.
 
 ( *7 ) 
 
 Knowlege of the World, 
 
 OR 
 
 GOOD COMPANY, 
 
 A 
 
 DIALOGUE. 
 
 The fcene and perfons, two friends walking 
 in the Mall. 
 
 *jL 1T7HAT ftrange man, I be- 
 Y \ feechyou, is this ? the man 
 I mean, that has juft quit- 
 ted us ; who has been talking fo inceC- 
 fantly, the whole time of our walk, about 
 his intimacys and friendfhips with men of 
 quality and birth ? \ 
 
 B. If you inquire after his own birth, 
 he's of the meaneft ; nothing better than 
 the fon of a low tradefman. 
 
 A. Then his learning and tafte (I fup- 
 pofe) have recommmended him. There 
 
 was
 
 ( 28) 
 
 was much interperfed about his travels in 
 Italy. 
 
 B. His tafte I can allure you is fmall ; 
 and his learning, none. 
 
 A. You furprize me ; fome merit he 
 muft certainly- have had : what has it 
 been? 
 
 B. That which is of all merits the moft 
 valuable. No man living has a more ex- 
 quifite Knowlege of the World. 
 
 A. An exquifite knowlege indeed ! 
 J Tis impoffible, if this be true, he fhould 
 be fo illiterate, as you have reprefented. 
 
 B. Why not ? 
 
 A, Becaufe, whether he maintain a 
 fyftem of his own, or efpoufe a fyftem 
 already invented, 'tis impoffible to do either 
 without a variety of fciences $ there muft 
 be fome phyfics, fome metaphyfics, and 
 previous to thefe dialectic and geometry. 
 Add to this, if he be really what you de- 
 fcribe, he muft not have contented himfelf 
 with modern philofophers only ; he muft 
 have examined and well weighed the fe- 
 deral fentiments of antiquity ; the watry 
 principle of Thales ; the fiery one of He- 
 
 racliius j
 
 ( 29) 
 
 raclitus -, the ideas of Plato ; the matter, 
 form and privation of the Stagirite. 
 
 B. My good friend, what are you talk- 
 ing about ? 
 
 A. I fay, that all this cannot be done 
 without learning, and much learning too. 
 
 B. And what then ? 
 
 A. What then ? why if this man have 
 fuch a Knowlege of the World* as you 
 affirm, he mufl neceffarily have all, or 
 mofr. of the learning juft mentioned. 
 
 B. Not at all ; I dare fay he never 
 heard a fyllable of this in all his life. By 
 an exquifite Knowlege of the World I 
 mean, he has an exquifite Knowlege 
 of Men. 
 
 A. O ! O ! I beg your pardon. He is 
 an adept then in ethics, a great moralift, 
 'tis that's the cafe. 
 
 B. I can't fay much as to his morals ; 
 but he certainly knows human nature to 
 the greateft exactnefs. 
 
 A. Then I am certain he mull be a 
 moralifty and a very good man. 
 
 B. But an indifferent one truly a fy- 
 cophant, a flanderer, a fpendthrift, a de- 
 bauchee A.
 
 ( 30 ) 
 
 A. Hold, hold ! meer calumny ! this 
 cannot but be impoflible. The man, fo 
 knowing in human nature, cannot but have 
 fludied himfelf. The man, who has ftu- 
 died himfelf, cannot but have {ten the 
 deformity of thefe vicious characters ; and 
 if he has once beheld that, he could no 
 more indure to bear the characters, than 
 he could to bear the fpots of a fever or a 
 plague. 
 
 B. O ! my friend, you flill mifappre- 
 hend me. By the Knowlege of mankind 
 I mean not your ethic fcience ; my mean- 
 ing is, that he knows who are good Com" 
 fany, and how the moil effectually to in- 
 gratiate himfelf with them. 
 
 A. Nay then I'm fure, I may affirm 
 him more than ever to be good. 
 
 B. You furprize me : why ? 
 
 A. Are you at a lofs for a reafon ? can 
 any thing poffibly ingratiate a man with 
 good men, except it be goodnefs f 
 
 B. I muft anfwer your queftion by an- 
 other; which is, what. 'tis vou take good 
 Company to be ? 
 
 A.
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 A. I know the confequence, mould 1 
 attempt to explain myfelf. I mall be 
 either ferioufly condemned, or laugh'd at 
 with contempt for an idle fophift, and re- 
 finer upon words. 
 
 B. And are you a philofopher and afraid 
 of that ? 
 
 A. I never afpired to fo high a charac- 
 ter But let this pafs you have afked 
 me my fentiments upon good Company, 
 Does it not feem firft proper to inquire 
 what Company means in general ? Is not 
 this the more natural method to know the 
 fpecies inquired after ? 
 
 B. I can't tell but it may.' 
 
 A. When therefore we fay a Company 
 of any kind whatever, does it not always 
 fuggeft the fame general idea, of many 
 perfons conjidered collectively f 
 
 B. As how ? 
 
 A. Thus : many artifls confidered col- 
 lectively make a company in trade ; many; 
 foldiers, a company in war 5 the fame of 
 comedians, of gyplies, or of any thing. 
 Is not this true ? 
 
 B. I believe it may. 
 
 A,
 
 (32) 
 
 A. If fo, when we fay good Company i 
 this likewife muft mean many perfons con* 
 
 fidered collectively. 
 
 B. I admit it. 
 
 A. And as the peculiar characterise of 
 fuch Company is to be good, it muft ne- 
 ceflarily mean farther many perfons that 
 are good. Muft it not ? 
 
 B. Poflibly it may. 
 
 A. Now as goodnefs in many muft be 
 the fame as goodnefs in one, if we can 
 but difcover what makes one man good, 
 we difcover of courfe what makes a num- 
 ber, or Company. Is not this evident ? 
 
 B. According to your fcheme it may. 
 
 A. What then is it conftkutes each 
 particular man to be good ? It cannot be 
 riches ; for that would make a good man 
 of every fordid ufurer. 
 
 B. I freely give up the rich. 
 
 A. Nor can it be dignity and rank j for 
 that would make good men of the Neros 
 
 and Domitians. Do you doubt of 
 
 this? 
 
 B. I have not yet diffented let me- 
 hear how vou proceed. 
 
 A.
 
 (33) 
 
 A. Nor can it be birth and higli de- 
 fcentj for then 
 
 B. Hold, hold ! I fee at what you are 
 driving. You would bring me to confefs, 
 becaufe thefe things make not a good 
 Man, that therefore they make not good 
 Company. As for riches I freely grant 
 them to be an ingredient not necefTary. 
 But I fhall never be brought to believe, 
 by the ftrength of a little logic, that 
 good Company is not formed by people 
 of fafhion, and of birth. 
 
 A. That is as much as to fay, you are 
 firmly refolved to believe, that tho' they 
 are ever fo bad Company, they are ftili 
 good Company. 
 
 B. Well, well, you may ridicule as 
 you pleafe. I fhan't fo tamely renounce 
 my opinion < 
 
 A. To give you then a fample of my 
 complaifance, I admit all people of fafhion 
 to be good Company, and none elfe what- 
 ever* Do you only, on your part, as I 
 have been fo generous, make me a fmali 
 conccflion or two by way of return. 
 
 B> What is it you require ? 
 
 D A
 
 ( 34) 
 
 A, In the firft place grant me, that they 
 poflefs not (at lead all of them) the fame 
 exalted understandings, as Socrates or Plato, 
 
 B. With all my heart. 
 
 A. Nor yet the fame confummate virtue. 
 
 B. Moft willingly. 
 
 A. There are it feems then among 
 thefe, as among others, the ignorant and 
 vitious, as well as the wife and good. 
 
 B. There are. 
 
 A. And yet if a man affociate with this- 
 vitious and ignorant part, he keeps good 
 Company neverthelefs. 
 
 B. He does. 
 
 A, Suppofe then a perfon of profligate 
 character, by the help of adulation and a 
 feurrilous kind of drollery, to render him- 
 felf acceptable to this bafer part of good 
 Company, and wholly to pafs his time 
 with thefe alone : fuch we know to be the 
 cafe of many a parafite, many a buffoon. 
 
 B. It is, and what follows ? 
 
 A. Do you not perceive the paradoxes, 
 which follow ? 
 
 B. What paradoxes ? 
 
 A. One, that a man may be counte- 
 nanc'd by good Company all his life, and 
 
 3 not
 
 ( 35 J 
 
 hot poffefs the leaft particle of good to 
 recommend him. Another, that a man 
 may keep .good Company all his life, and 
 hardly converfe with a fingle perfon of 
 either virtue or underftanding. Are not 
 thefe paradoxes ? Again, by inverlion we 
 may create ftill more of them. One, for 
 inftance, that a man may have much virtue 
 and underftanding, and converfe perpetu- 
 ally with perfons of the fame character, and 
 yet in the courfe of a long life never keep 
 the leaft good Company Another, that 
 as there are perfons of virtue and under- 
 ftanding, who are no good Company, and 
 good Company who have neither virtue 
 nor underftanding, there will be fome bad 
 Company more good than fome good Com- 
 pany : what think you of thefe things ? 
 Are not thefe all paradoxes, which fol- 
 low from what you have aflerted ? 
 
 B. Very fine, truly ! And fo you 
 
 really imagine that by a few trifling ques- 
 tions, and a little fophiftical cavilling upon 
 words, you have gained over your friend 
 a complete logical triumph. 
 
 A. How well not long ago did I fore- 
 tell my own fate ? Did not I fay that I 
 D z ihould
 
 ( if) 
 
 mould be arraigned for an idle fophift, a 
 minute refiner upon verbal niceties ? 
 
 B. And do you not juftly deferve the cha- 
 racter ? Is the whole, you have been faying, 
 at beft any thing more, than a contradiction 
 to the common language of all mankind ? 
 
 A. I never heard before that all man- 
 kind had a common language. 
 
 B. Why there again ? As if by man- 
 kind, I meant every human creature, now 
 exifling In the world. - 
 
 A. Exifting in the world ? In what 
 world ? 
 
 B* Nay this is worfe than ever I am 
 fure, if I had not more philofophy to bear be- 
 ing thus queflioned, than you on your part 
 have fhewn in queftioning, I mould long 
 ago not have vouchfafed you an anfwer. 
 
 A. Have patience then, my friend, and 
 let your philofophy ftill fupport you. Re- 
 nounce her not, as is too often the cafe, 
 at that critical moment, when me is moft 
 to be defired. The meaneft may philo- 
 fophize with the greater!: apparent wif- 
 dom, while the courfe of human events 
 is even and unruffled: jufl as with a fair 
 gale, in the great pacific Ocean < 
 
 B.
 
 { 37 ) 
 
 B. Well, well, don't preach oyer me, 
 but propofe your queftion. 
 
 A. With all my heart. I was afking 
 you, when you talked of every human 
 creature in the world, what you meant by 
 the word, World. 
 
 B. And what do you ferioufly think 
 'twas poffible for me to mean, but this 
 Earth of ours ? 
 
 A- What, the terraqueous Globe ? 
 B. Ay, the terraqueous Globe, if you 
 like that better. 
 
 A. 'Tis enough, I am fatisfied. I fee 
 light now diffufe itfelf thro' all our dark de- 
 bate. If this be the meaning of the word, 
 World, to know the World muft mean, to 
 know this terraqueous Globe. Muft it not? 
 
 B. In fome fenfe pofiibly it may. 
 
 A. 'Tis no hard matter then, admitting 
 this explication, to difcover whom you 
 mean by thofe, that know it. They are the 
 great geometricians, and geographers, and 
 voyagers ; the Strabcs, the Ptolemies, the 
 Forbijhers, and the Drakes. One alfo of 
 the fame catalogue 'tis to be prefumed. 
 we may call your friend ; I mean, that 
 marvelous man, who left us not long 
 D 3 ' ago,
 
 ( 38) 
 
 ago, and whofe knowlege in this way 
 you extolled fo highly. 
 
 B. My friend, as you call him (I thank 
 you for the compliment) knows nothing of 
 thefe matters, I can aflure you, in the leaft; 
 nor did I, for my part, ever mean any thing 
 like it. In fhort, to end all trifling at once, 
 (for I have quite enough) by Knowlege 
 of Men and the World, I mean nothing 
 more, than according to common phrafe, 
 the knowing every body in town, 
 
 A. In what town. 
 
 B. In this town, in London. 
 
 A. Indeed ! what, every body in London ? 
 
 B. Fie ! fie ! more cavilling. Every 
 body, I mean, of birth and fafhion. 
 
 A. About two or three thoufand per- 
 haps : will that be enough ? 
 
 B. I don't imagine they can be fo many. 
 
 A. A three or four hundredth part this 
 of about eight hundred thoufand, the 
 fuppofed number^ which inhabit this city. 
 
 B. It may be fo pofliby ; I never made 
 the computation. 
 
 A. To be acquainted therefore with 
 this three or four hundredth part, is what 
 ypu mean by knowing of the World. 
 
 B.
 
 ( 39 } 
 
 j5. I allow it. 
 
 A. And in this fmall pittance of the 
 whole human race, you grant the fame 
 mixture of virtue and of vice, as may be 
 found at large among mankind in general. 
 
 B. I do. 
 
 A. So that by force of any effentiai 
 and truly characleriftic quality, they are 
 no way to be diftinguifhcd from the ordi- 
 nary herd- 
 
 B* By no virtue or vice I have told 
 you already. 
 
 A. Thei then are in reality your fenti- 
 ments, and meaning. 
 
 B. They are, you may be afTured. 
 
 A. And you aflure me farther, that in 
 no part of your difcourfe, you at any 
 time intended by knowlege of the JVorld, 
 a knowlege of that comprehenfive and 
 Stupendous fyftern, in which are included 
 all fyftems fubordinate ; all beings what- 
 ever, both rational and irrational, both im- 
 meafurably great and immeafurably fmall. 
 
 B. No, that I can fafely affure you. 
 
 A. Nor did you ever mean by the 
 World any one of thefe fubordinate fyf- 
 tems j as for inftance the folar. 
 
 B. I never did. 
 
 D 4 A.
 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 A. Nor any orb or planet of fuch 
 fyjftem ; as for inftance this Globe of ours. 
 
 B. No. 
 
 A. Nor any quarter of this Globe, as 
 Afia or Europe. 
 
 B. No. 
 
 A. Nor any region of fuch quarter, as 
 Italy or Britain. 
 Br No. 
 
 A. Nor any whole city of fuch region, 
 as Rome or London. 
 
 B. No. 
 
 A. On the contrary, to know the World, 
 according to this hypothefis of yours, is 
 c to know a little clan compofed of both 
 * f fexes, in character upon a level with the 
 " reft of mankind, and like them equally 
 i diverfified with good and bad ; a clan, 
 <f the fmall part of a fingle city, of a fingle 
 " region, of the fmalleft quarter, of a fmall 
 " planet, of a fingle fyftem, in that infinite 
 c< and unknown number of fyftems, which 
 " together compofe this mighty Universe 
 <e or World." Such you mud allow, is 
 the Knowlege, that you have praifed -, a 
 Knowlege, the merit of which you made 
 fo important, as to fupply the place of every 
 merit elfe ; the merit of tafte j the merit 
 
 of
 
 ( 4* ) 
 
 of letters -, and I fear, even the merit of 
 
 morality itfelf. But I've done, left you 
 
 fhould think I am growing too ferious. 
 
 B. You have not the leaft occafion for 
 apologizing to me. Only one thing, as 
 a friend, 'ts proper I mould tell you. 
 Whatever you may fancy of your proofs 
 and your demonftrations, I'm not to be 
 fo readily refuted, as you think. You 
 imagined, I dare fay, I fhould have fur- 
 render'd by this time j have acknowledged 
 my errors -, have recognized your wifdom ; 
 have acted with due decorum the under 
 hero of a modern dialogue, that thing of 
 wood, fet up for nothing elfe, than for 
 another to fhew his fkill, by tipping of 
 him down, But this,, you may be fatif- 
 fied, will never happen on my part. 
 
 A. Indeed, indeed, you are totally mi- 
 flaken. You may be well afTured, that I 
 never expected it. Difcourfes of all kinds, 
 I fee by daily experience, are but feeble 
 remedies to correct opinions. I could 
 only wifh you would correct your phrafe, 
 and not affront your mother-tongue with 
 fuch horrible abufe. 
 
 JB. What abufe do you mean ? 
 
 A.
 
 ( 4* ) 
 
 A. The abfolute confufion of all terms; 
 the making of great ftand for little j ftrait 
 for crooked ; laudable and fair, for con- 
 temptible and bafe. Is not this abufe ? 
 
 B. Not of my committing that I know 
 of. I know none of my phrafes not 
 juftified by common ufe. That the phrafes, 
 Knowlege of Mankind and Knoivlege of 
 the World are fo, is, I believe, paft dif- 
 pute. And now, if you pleafe, let me 
 invert matters, and a& a queftion on my 
 part. Pray what authority have you, fu- 
 perior to common ufe, to annex to thefe 
 terms any ideas of your own ? 
 
 A, Should I attempt to anfwer this, I 
 fhould not give you my own fentiments, 
 but the fentiments of men, who lived in 
 days of old ; of men, whofe wifdom I ad- 
 mire and revere. The confequences there? 
 fore alarm me. 'T would grieve me to ex- 
 pose fuch excellent men, mould I prove a 
 bad interpreter of what they had afferted. 
 
 B. I perceive your aim ; you would wil- 
 lingly excufe yourfelf. But J can aflure 
 you, I mail not be fo eafily fatisfied. What ? 
 have not I equal right to hear and fcruti- 
 nize your opinions, as you have mine ? 
 
 A.
 
 (43) 
 
 jl. Well then, if you muft be obeyed, 
 I only beg one favour. If what I fay, 
 appear true, be the praife theirs ; if falfe 
 and abfurd, impute the fault to me. 
 
 B. You have your own conditions. 
 Proceed, as you pleafe. 
 
 A. Thus therefore <c To know Man- 
 < : kind and Human Nature, as wife 
 " men have faid, is to know the feveral 
 <c powers of human action and perception ; 
 w the perceptive powers, whether feniitive 
 " or intellective , the manner, in which 
 <e thefetwo coincide, and reciprocally pafs 
 " from one to the other ; the active pow- 
 '* ers of appetite and averllon j their con- 
 " curring with reafon,as well as their quit- 
 ct ting, and oppofing it ; the various af- 
 < edtions, whether felfifh or focial ; the 
 M fource of wrong action from either the 
 < exorbitance of appetite, or from reafon 
 f* erroneoufly judging evil to be good > the 
 fi gradual deyiation, by thefe two caufes, 
 ? l from the true and natural end of man, 
 < { that is to fay, the tranlition from what is 
 " focial and rational into vitious habits, and 
 " falfe opinions ; the many imperceptible 
 f 1 and unattended degrees, by which fuch 
 
 " habits
 
 ( 44 ) 
 
 habits and opinions arc formed j the flow 
 and critical procefs of railing up better, 
 by which alone thofe others are to be de- 
 stroyed. This, as I have heard, is to 
 know human nature ; a Knowlege, which 
 afTumes as many different denominations, 
 as 'tis capable of being attached to differ- 
 ent fubjecls : applied to a man's felf, 'tis 
 called the virtue of prudence; to a family, 
 it affumcs the name of oeconomy j when 
 feen in the propriety of our common in- 
 tercourfe with others, 'tis recognized by 
 the name of civility and addrefs ; when 
 extended to the leading of ftates and em- 
 pires, 'tis the rhetoric and policy of the 
 genuine Jlatefman - 3 in a word, 'tis a Know* 
 lege which differs in this from all others, 
 that by pofTeffing it we become not only 
 wifer but better. And fo much for the 
 KftGwlege of men, and human nature. 
 " Again, to know the World, what 
 is it in the opinion of the fame wife men ? 
 'Tis what they have called by way of 
 eminence, the fcience of fciences, and art 
 of arts, as including the principles of 
 every other Knowlege. 'Tis to have a 
 Knowlege of Form or feminal propor- 
 
 " tion,
 
 (45) 
 
 * tion, with the univerfal Subject, its pamve 
 " receptacle. 'Tis to view, in the union of 
 " thefe together, the birth of things by 
 " kinds, and fpecies. 'Tis to fee the efri- 
 " cacy of thefe kinds, and fpecies; how 
 "nature from their connexion derives the 
 " unity of her exijience, and from their va~ 
 " riety and arrangement, becomes adorned 
 " thro' every part. 'Tis to gain a glimpfc 
 <c of that active Intelligence, the repofitory 
 " of aH^tf/caufes, and the firfl mover of 
 " all efficient. 'Tis to pofTefs the fource 
 
 * of the fublimeft theory, as to know man* 
 " kind in the manner defcribed, is to pot- 
 " fefs the fource of the moll excellent 
 " practice . In fhort, 'tis the union of thefe 
 " two fciences, (call the one wifdom, the 
 * other moral virtue,) which completes 
 " the juft exemplar of perfect humanity j 
 w that confummate idea, which but to 
 
 * refemble and' approach is the higheft 
 " proficiency of the beft of men." 
 
 What then are we to conclude, when 
 we find all this inverted ? when we hear 
 thefe tranfeendant accomplifhments fo 
 wretchedly degraded, as to be attribu- 
 ted not to the worth ieft, but to the bafeft 
 3 and
 
 r 
 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 and very worft ? when we are told that 
 fpendthrifts, fycophants, I know not whom, 
 may poffefs an exact Knowlege both of 
 human nature and the World f Is 
 not this to be guilty of the confufion I 
 fpoke of; to invert all terms; to make 
 great Hand for little ; ftrait for crooked ; 
 laudable and fair, for contemptible and 
 bafe? 
 
 1 my friend ! let us not appeal to 
 cuftom to juftify fuch contradictions. Tho* 
 cuftom in things indifferent may be fome- 
 times perhaps admitted, yet never for its 
 fake let us renounce truth, and common 
 fenfe. Why mould there not be an ac- 
 curacy, as well in fpeaking, as elfewhere ? 
 Why mould -J- our words, by our foolifh 
 hyperboles, fo immenfely outrun the poffi- 
 
 bility of a meaning ? In praife, and dif- 
 
 praife, in characterizing, and comp A aifance, 
 all we fay is little better, than a continued 
 
 lie. At a moment's warning, as oc* 
 
 cafion requires, we can be extremely 
 
 d forry, or excejjively bad^ without feeling 
 
 the lead emotion either of grief, or joy. 
 
 If 
 
 f Jam ptidem equidem nos vera rerum voca- 
 bula amifimu8. Cato in Bell Catilin. pag. 127. 
 Edit. Var.
 
 ( 47 ) 
 
 If We barely like a thing, 'tis char mingy 
 and prodigious ; if we barely diflike, 'tis 
 horrible ', and flocking. And upon what 
 in the mean time are we difcourfing ? 
 Perhaps on nothing more important, than 
 fongs, and filks, and fans, and fidlers. 
 Had it been afked an old Roman, what 
 he reckoned an honour, he would have 
 anfwered a civic, or a mural crown. Now 
 truly to receive a common letter, is an 
 honour ; to anfwer it is another honour $ 
 and to allure a man, how much we are 
 his devoted humble fervants, when we 
 never in our lives either ferv'd him, or 
 intend it, this too is another honour, 
 
 O times ! O manners ! how had thefe 
 things founded in the days of Attic elo- 
 quence ? what would old Homer have 
 thought, in the days of antient iimplicity? 
 We may partly indeed conjecture, from a 
 fentiment of his principal hero 
 
 To me as hateful, as the gates of hell, 
 Is he, that one thing in his heart conceals, 
 And f peaks another* 
 
 But to defcend from thefe heroic ages 
 to others lefs remote. Mark but the ex- 
 
 a&nefs,
 
 t 48 ) 
 
 afmefs, as to terms of art, among oiir 
 own mechanics, and failors, and fportf- 
 men. What hunters would be bribed, 
 think you, to talk of courjing with their 
 bounds j of roufing a fox j or of unkenel- 
 ling a deer ? Yet it behoves not thefc 
 either to write, or to read, but nature 
 feems to lead them fpontaneoufly to be 
 thus accurate. So would fhe lead us, did 
 we not oppofe her by affectation, and by 
 aping of that ftyle, as elegant and polite, 
 which only befits the low-cringing, and 
 adulation of flaves. 
 
 But I have talked enough, and indeed 
 more than I ought. 'Twas the fubjedt 
 itfelf, which at firft engaged me, and 
 then infenfibly led mc beyond what I 
 propofed: 
 
 B. You have faid, in my opinion, what 
 deferves to be confidercd. At another 
 time we may revive the fubjecl:, and di- 
 courfe at leifure thefe things over again. 
 
 The END. 
 
 Printed in the year MDCCLII, from the MSS, of 
 J. H. of S. in the County of W.
 

 
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