GEORGE ILOMJD> LYTTELTO
 
 THE 
 
 WORK S 
 
 F 
 
 GEORGE LORD LYTTELTOI^ 
 
 Formerly printed feparately, and now collected together : 
 With fome other PIECES, never before punted. 
 
 i>ublifhed by GEORGE EDWARD AJSCOUGH, Efq, 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 PRINTED FOR J. WILLIAMS, Nai. SKINNER-ROW, 
 MDCC
 
 [ iii ] 
 
 Ls 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THOMAS LORD LYTTELTON, 
 BARON OF FRANKLEY, &c. 
 
 *JT T -" 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 IT is to your goodnefs, and to that friendfhip 
 with which you have long honoured me, that I 
 owe feveral of the following papers, the works of 
 your late excellent father, and my much refpecled 
 uncle ; and I now take the liberty in this public 
 manner to make you my mod grateful acknow- 
 ledgements. 
 
 Yi.iv: I- " ; ^srwcn JcjjH aid ifs ^va- 'n bns 'jgviq 
 When your lord(hip was fo kind as to beftow on 
 me feveral of the new pieces, you were pleafed to 
 leave it to rny difcretion to felecl: thofe which I 
 thought moft proper for publication. I have there- 
 fore ventured, on^my own feeble judgement, to 
 A 2, give
 
 give the greater part pf them to the world, for the 
 following reafons : 
 
 Firft, Becaufe I efteem it an injury done to this 
 country, and to the many admirers of your noble 
 father, to keep papers written by his lordfliip, and 
 preferved by him at any period of his life, locked 
 up in private cabinets. 
 
 Secondly, Becaufe almoft every line of thefe 
 trails conveys the mofl ufeful inftru&ions and ad- 
 monitions to mankind, and are calculated to aid 
 the great caufes of public and private virtue. 
 
 If it (hould be afked, Why I chofe to publifh 
 the juvenile letters of his lordfhip, written during 
 his travels through France and Italy ? Perhaps it 
 would be fufficient to anfwer, Becaufe they are re- 
 plete with profitable and entertaining accounts of 
 the political tranfa&ions of thofe times, together 
 with the mofl fenfible and pertinent remarks on the 
 ftate of Europe at that period ; but I fhall further 
 add, that I have (Ironger and more weighty reafons 
 for their publication, not only becaufe they are the 
 produce of the beft of beads, but becaufe they are 
 effufions from the beft of hearts ; and becaufe they 
 are the early and wonderful proofs of his generofity, 
 piety, and above all his filial reverence ; and may 
 be juftly deemed the firfl ebullitions of virtues, 
 which, being afterwards matured by age and expe, 
 nence. extended their beneficent influence over 
 mankind in general, and were more immediately 
 felt by the inhabitants of this frge country. 

 
 I muft now beg leave to aflureyour lordfhip, that 
 it is my defire that this work may not only give 
 fatisfadtion to the public, but alfo be honoured 
 with your lordfhip's particular approbation. I am 
 proud to confefs that I have ever had the higheft 
 veneration for your refined tafte, found judgement, 
 and ripened abilities; and, at the fame time, per- 
 mit me to add my moft ardent wifhes that thefe 
 great talents, which are certainly equal to thofe 
 your father pofiefTed, may, like his, be exerted 
 with indefatigable zeal in the fervice of your 
 country ; and that, like him, your lordfhip may 
 hereafter prove a mining ornament of the fenate, 
 and one of the firmeft pillars of the conftitution. 
 Sedquid verbis opus eft? Your lordfhip has already 
 foreftalled my hopes ; and my wifhes, even at this 
 early period, are nearly accomplished. 
 
 I remain, 
 My LORD, 
 
 Your Lordfhip's 
 Much obliged and 
 
 Moft affectionate friend, 
 
 and 
 Obedient, humble fervant, 
 
 GEORGE EDWARD AYSCOUGH. 
 
 CON-
 
 [ vii ] 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS on the Life of Cicero. p. r 
 Obfervations on the Roman Hiftory. - - - p. 23 
 Obfervations on the prefent State of our Affairs, at 
 Home and Abroad ; 'in a Letter to a Member of Par- 
 liament, from a Friend in the Country. - p. 39 
 Letters from a Perfian in England to his Friend at If- 
 
 pahan. p. 77 
 
 Obfervations on the Converfion and Apofllemip of St. 
 
 Paul ; in a Letter to Gilbert Weft, Efq. - p. 205 
 Dialogues of the Dead. - - p. 257 
 
 Four Speeches in Parliament. - p. 407 
 
 Poems. - p. 431 
 
 Letters to Sir Thomas Lyttelton. - p. 495 
 
 Account of a Journey into Wales ; in Two Letters to 
 Mr. Bower. P- 553 
 
 O B S E R-
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 L i F EV; 
 
 O F 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 -' '.10I $) ^ 'fl ' - ' v / ? 4 /' 
 
 B
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 ARTHUR ONSLOW, 
 
 SPEAKER of the HOUSE of COMMONS. 
 S I R, 
 
 ^r^HE honour I do myfelf of addrefling thefe re- 
 
 A marks to you, is a proof how confident I am in 
 
 the partiality of your friendmip ; if they have any 
 
 3ther claim to your regard, it is only from a fpirit of 
 
 liberty, which, where-ever it appears, is always fure 
 
 of your favour and protection. The fubjeft of them, 
 
 which is the Life of Cicero, muft be doubly intereft- 
 
 ng to you, as he was the mod excellent Orator of all 
 
 antiquity, and bore the moft eminent charader in the 
 
 Roman Senate, while it remained free, and was worthy 
 
 of that name. 
 
 I am, with the moft perfect refpeft, and higheft 
 ienfe of your favours to me, 
 
 SI R, 
 
 - %* 
 
 Your moft obliged, 
 and moft obedient 
 
 humble Servant;
 
 77 O a'il VI O 
 
 U:." IjJhwfxrtt 
 \ i
 
 1 '* T 
 
 S.'J i,'V : ii ?.;. '-;; >;*"/' .TT,,Ifii-r- ' - -?W.'.: 
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 j jcrj sr.- r,.w i no*i;7' . $ ;,!";> fj 
 
 L I F E OF G I C E R O. 
 
 :fHO -1 
 
 AMONG all the celebrated charters in the Roman^ 
 liftory, there are none more worthy our attention, 
 *hau thofe great men who were at the head of the Repub- 
 
 lick when me was arrived at her higheft degree of power and 
 glory, and, by a natural confequence of exceflive profperity, 
 was fallen into thofe vices and corruptions, which foon after 
 produced a change of government, and brought her into an 
 inlamous flavery. This revolution was either haftened or 
 delayed accordmg as they who had the management of affairs 
 were more or lefs mfeded with the general depravity: fome 
 there were who preferved themfelves quite untainted; who 
 gallantly flood in the breach, and ftruggled hard for liberty. 
 Such were Marcus Cato, Quintus Hortenfius, Quintus Ca- 
 .tulus, and Marcus Brutus; whofe virtues were the more 
 valuable to their country, becaufe they were exerted at a 
 jundure whenlhe found herfelf moft in need of the.r affift- 
 ance: with thefe Cicero has generally been placed, and 
 ft we may take his own word, Rome had not a more un- 
 fpottedpatnottoboaftofthanhimfelf: but 1 doubt, when 
 we look ftnaiy into his condud, we (hall often find it very 
 
 lifterent from theirs who really deferve that name; and it 
 will appear, even from the teftimony of his own letters, in 
 Which he fpoke more naturally and with lefs vanity than 
 he does in his orations, that his publick charader was far 
 Irom bemg perfed;, that he a&ed upon many occafions 
 more like an ambitious orator than a philofophical republican; 
 that his virtues were blended with many weaknefles and 
 permcious fa.l.ngs; and that, notwithftanding his exalted 
 notions of integrity, he fometimes yielded to the corruption 
 ot the age, and facrificed the welfare of his country to his 
 B 2 private
 
 6 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 private interefts and paffions. What makes him the lefs 
 excufable is, that none ever underftood the rules of virtue 
 or faw the beauty of it more than he: his writings are the 
 nobleft leflbns of publick honefty, difintereftednefs, and the 
 love of liberty, that are to be found in all antiquity : and it 
 is the excellent and almoft divine fpirit which appears in 
 thofe books, that has made the majority of readers conclude 
 the author of them to have been in his own praaice, what 
 he takes fo much pains to recommend, and inculcates with 
 fuch force of eloquence. And, to do him right, in many 
 parts of his adminiftration he was the patriot he defcribes : 
 the Commonwealth had great obligations to him ; no lefs 
 than its prefervation at one crifis: but there wanted a fteadi- 
 nefs and uniformity in his conduct, which alone could entitle 
 him to the reputation he was fo defirous of obtaining, and that 
 has been given him rather by the partiality of learned men, 
 than from the fuffrage of hiftorical juftice. 
 
 I mall endeavour, in the following observations, to fet his 
 actions in their proper light, and, without aggravating or 
 foftening any thing, confider them as they were directed to 
 the advantage or prejudice of his country; in doing which, 
 I (hall dwell only upon fuch circumftances as are important 
 to his character, parting by a great number of other facts 
 which have no relation to my defign. 
 
 The firft caufe of moment that he undertook was the de- 
 fence of Rofcius Amerinus, in which he gained great honour 
 by his oppofition to Sylla, who was the profecutor, and whofe 
 power had frightened every body elfe from appearing in his 
 behalf: fuch a fpirit in a young man at his firft entrance into 
 publick bufinefs was admired by all the world, and feemed to 
 promife fornething very extraordinary : but though the danger 
 of offending the tyrant could not deter him from pleading for 
 Rofcius, yet he thought it not prudent to'expofe himfelf to 
 his refentment afterwards; tut left Rome, and retired into 
 Greece, under pretence of travelling for his health. He 
 there applied himfelf to the ftudy of eloquence ; and having 
 the advantage of the beft matters in the world, he made fuch 
 improvements in it, that when he came to the bar upon his 
 return to Rome, he foon eclipfed all his competitors, even j 
 Hortenfius himfelf, who could not fee without uneafinefs the j 
 fupenority he was gaining over him, though they afterwards 
 became very good friends : the conformity of their fentiments 
 upon publick bufinefs, and the interefts of the Common- 
 wealth, having united them notwithstanding their emulation. 
 inis great ability in fpeaking could not fail to raife him very 
 
 high.
 
 TtiE LIFE OF QI.CfeRQ. 7 
 high in a government where every thing was difpofed of by 
 the favour of the people ; and for the firlt proof of their 
 good-will towards him, he was fent to Sicily in the office of 
 quzftor, where he behaved himfelf with fo much juftice* 
 integrity, and moderation, that his reputation as a magiftrate 
 was not inferior to that which he had obtained before as an 
 orator. To ingratiate himfelf (till further with the Sicilians* 
 he engaged in the profecution of Verres, who, during his 
 preetormip in their ifland, had drawn upon himfelf an uni- 
 verfal hatred by his rapacioufnefs, infolence, and other 
 crimes, which were too often committed with impunity by 
 the Roman governours : and Verres himfelf, infamous as he 
 was, did not want the countenance and protection of fome of 
 the moft confiderable men in Rome, who endeavoured to 
 fhelter him from juftice for a reafon obvious enough, becaufe 
 they were unwilling any enquiry (hould be made into offences 
 of that publick nature, in the guilt of which fo many of their 
 friends, and perhaps they themfelves, were too much in- 
 volved. But the eloquence and credit of Cicero condemned 
 Verres in fpite of their oppofmon ; and the Sicilians were fo 
 jleafed with the fervice he had done them upon that occafion, 
 hat they put themfelves wholly under his protection, and 
 l:ontinued their efteem and affection to the end of his life. 
 
 Soon after his fuccefs in this affair, which recommended 
 
 iim extreamly to the Roman people* who were always glad 
 
 jo fee magiftrates piofecuted for mal-adminiftration, he was 
 
 nade edile; and having gone through that office with a de- 
 
 Isrved applaufe, he was unanimously chofen praetor. As 
 
 [hat dignity was the fecond in the Commonwealth, the pof* 
 
 I'flion of it infpired him with higher thoughts and more af- 
 
 ring hopes than he had entertained before : he then began 
 
 take fuch meafures as he judged moft likely to contribute 
 
 his advancement : and as Pompey was more capable than 
 
 ly body of aflifting him in that dengn, he fought all means 
 
 gaining him to his interefts; and with that view pro- 
 
 mnced his famous oration pro Lege Manilla^ in which he 
 
 tirely forfook his former charaQer of a lover of his coun- 
 
 y, and became a principal inftrument of illegal and arbi- 
 
 ary power. As the part that Cicero ated in this affair 
 
 Serves a very particular confederation, I fhall fet it in as 
 
 11 a light as poflible ; the more, becaufe Plutarch takes no 
 
 >tice of it, which it is not very eafy to account for, confi- 
 
 Ting his ufual impartiality. 
 
 The extravagant affection of the people, in committing to 
 wnpey the command of the war againfl tht pirates, had 
 & 4 fctftd
 
 $ a B S E R' V A T I 0~T* S* 6 N 
 
 vefted him with fo exorbitant a power, that it utterly de- 
 ftroyecTthe equality effentul to a Commonwealth. His 
 common gave him an abfolute authority over the whole 
 length of tht- Mediterranean as far as Hercules's pillars, and 
 along all the coafts of itlo the diftance of fifty mile, trom the 
 fea- he was impowered to take what money he thought fit 
 out of the publick treafury without accounting tor it, and t< 
 raife as many foldiers and mariners as he judged convenient. 
 Befides this, he had a liberty of chufmg out of the body or 
 the'-fenate, fifteen perforts to ferve him as lieutenants, to 
 'whom he affigned their provinces at his own difcretion. In 
 vain-did the confuls, with moft of the fenators, oppofe this 
 prodigious authority, fo contrary to the maxims ot their go- 
 vernment : thek refiftance ferved only to inflame the people, 
 and occasioned them to add to their decree, that Pompey 
 fhould have power to fit out five hundred fail of (hips, to 
 raife an army of an hundred and twenty fix thoufand men, 
 and that he fhould have twenty four fenators and two quaef-c 
 tors to obey his orders. 
 
 With this force he foon reduced the pirates ; and his vic- 
 tory was hardly known at Rome, when Manilius, one of the ; 
 tribunes of the people, to gratify his infatiable ambition, pro- 
 pofed the giving him- the' government of Luc.ullus and the 
 command of that general's army then carrying on the war ! 
 with Mithfidates, and that he mould (till retain the whole 
 extent of -that authority -which had been granted him by the 
 former decree, though the reafons for which it had been 
 given were entirely ceafed. This was nothing lefs than den j 
 livering to him all the forces both by fea and land, and mak- 
 ing him abfolute mafter of the Roman empire: what ren- 
 dered the favourers of this decree more inexcufable was, that;- i 
 they had not the leaft pretence of publick neceflity to juftify' ' 
 the propofing it, as they feemed to have had in the commiffj ; 
 fion th-ly gave him againft the pirates, who were at that, 
 time Very formidable enemies : but Lucullus, who command-* 
 ed in Afia, had overcome Mithridates in feveral battles, an4 
 was as capable of fimming the war as he whom they appoinU 
 ed to be his fucceffor. Such an excefllve powtr entrufled to/ 
 ,^ne man, where there was fo little occafion fpr it, appeared 
 to the fenate an utterfubwerfion of the conftitution ; but fuch, 
 was their fear of Pompey, whofe greatnefs was become n.0| 
 kfs terrible than that of Sylla, that, except Qu.intus Catul*|; 
 and Hortenfius, none durft contradia the pafling of it. Thefii 
 two great men, one of which was beyond difpute the feconl 
 orator in Rome, fpokc with much warmth and force againfti 
 
 the
 
 THE LIFE OF CICERO. 9 
 
 the decree, endeavouring to perfuade the people of the un- 
 reafonablenefs and danger of it ; and perhaps they would 
 have made fome imprelCon, if Pompey's faction, apprehend- 
 ing the effe& their orations might have produced, had not 
 let up an abler fpeaker than either of them to harangue on 
 their fide of the queflion. Cicero mounted the rojirutn, and 
 with an eloquence worthy of a better caufe, moft artfully 
 reflected on Lucullus, whofe reputation, as well as his 
 authority, was to be made a facrifice to the envy of Pompey ; 
 then he proceeded todefcant upon Pompey's character, which 
 he fet off with all the ornaments of rhetorick, attributing to 
 him the whole fuccefs not only of the African, Spanilh, and 
 Piratick wars, but even of that acainft the Oaves, the. ho- 
 nour of which was folely due to CrafTus. Thus by cruelly 
 injuring two of the greateft generals that were then in the 
 Commonwealth, by a moft fervile flattery of the man who 
 was manifeilly overturning all its liberties, he brought the, 
 people to confent to the Manilian Law, which, had a regard 
 to the intereft of his country been his conftant principle, he 
 ought to have oppofed as violently as he did afterwards the Ag- 
 rarian, or any other attempt againft the fafety^nd freedom of 
 the ftate. It is certain that thele extraordinary honours con- 
 ferred on Pompey, as they broke the balance of the Repub- 
 lick, fo they irritated the ambition of Caefar, and afterwards 
 furnifhed him with a pretence of demanding as great a power 
 tor himfelf, and feizjngut by force when it was refuftd. 
 
 I come now to f peak -of his confulfhip, which really de- 
 ferves all the praifes that not only the Greek and Roman hif- 
 torians have beftowed upon it, but even tbofe which he him- 
 felf is fo lavifh of whenever he has an opportunity to mention 
 it. His oppofition to the law propofed by Rullus, which was 
 prefented to the people in a form they were always eafy to be 
 caught with, was a matter of the moft delicate nature; and 
 nothing lefs than his confummate addrefs in the managing 
 thole affemblies, could poflibly have hindered its being carried 
 by the artful contrivers of it : but by (hewing the people that 
 under the notion of a popular decree they were really fetting 
 up a private tyranny, from which no advantage could arife to 
 the poor, for whofe fake alone this law was pretended to be 
 formed, but the revenues of the publick would be diffipated 
 and its liberty deftroyed ; he flopped the execution of their 
 defigns, and faved the Commonwealth from the yoke which 
 was juft ready to be impofed upon it. I believe no affair was 
 ever managed with greater prudence, nor ever fo much {kill, 
 exerted in any oration as in thofe he made upon this occafion, 
 
 which
 
 id OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 which are certainty matter- pieces in their kind, though others 
 of a more pompous ftile are generally more admired. His 
 condud in Catiline's confprracy is too well known to be re- 
 peated here; the vigilance, firmnefs, and adivity, with 
 which he difcovered and prevented that deflgn, can never be 
 too much extolled ; nor could any thing have depreciated the 
 fervices he then did his country* but his being fo fenfrble of 
 them himfelf. As to the charge brought againft him by his 
 enemies of having violated the Porcian law, by putting to 
 death the chief of the confpirators without allowing them a 
 trial, he was abundantly juftified in fo doing by the urgent 
 neceflity of affairs, and by the order of the fenate, That be 
 Jbould take cafe the Republitk might receive no detriment. 
 This commiflion vefted him with fomething like a dictatorial 
 power, and the extream danger of the Commonwealth re- 
 quired it ; for the lead delay would have been fatal. But as 
 the people were always jealous of any ftretch of authority in 
 the fenate, they were more eafily wrought upon to take uriJ- 
 brage at this extraordinary a&, which Cicero himfeif calls 
 in one of his letters Invidiofa Potentia. After the expira- 
 tion of his confulmip all mens eyes were turned upon him, as 
 one who they hoped would continue to be the chief fupport 
 of thofe that were affectionate to the Commonwealth. What 
 engagements he then entered into, what friendmip he culti- 
 vated, what policy he obferved, demands a very ftrid exa- 
 mination, though this period of his life, from the death of 
 Catiline to his baniftment by Clodius, has been patted light- 
 ly over by hiftorians ; and therefore many parts of it are only 
 to be collected from his private letters, in which he gives a 
 very particular account of every ftep he took, and of the 
 many changes both in his fentiments and behaviour that hap- 
 pened during that remarkable interval. We (half find him 
 fbmetimes devoted to Pompey, fometimes at variance with 
 him ; fometimes imploring his proteaion, fometimes defpifmg 
 his power; now refolved to (land or fall with the Common- 
 wealth, now making his terms with its tyrants ; altnoft always 
 reafomng differently, and yet frequently reafoning better than 
 he could prevail upon himfelf to aft. When he was to make 
 an oration to the people upon quitting the confulmip, the fecret 
 nemies of his adminiftration declared themfelves, and Csefar 
 who was one of the praetors, together with Metullus and 
 Beftia, two tribunes, would not fuffer him to give an account 
 of his condua as was always ufual, but commanded him to 
 abjure h.s office, and leave the roftrura. This they grounded 
 
 upon
 
 THE LIF EOF CICERO, n, 
 
 upon his having put to death fome Roman citizens without a 
 legal trial; and they thought it would be a great mortification 
 to Cicero's vanity, to deprive him of fo fair an opportunity of 
 making his own panegyrick: but the readinefs of his wit 
 found a way to difappoint their malice; for he took the oath 
 in a new-invented form, and inftead of fwearing that he had 
 a&ed nothing contrary to the interefts of the republick, he 
 fwore that he had faved the city and the whole ftate from ruin. 
 As extraordinary as this oath was, all the people took it after 
 him in the fame words, and the affront that his enemies would 
 have done him fell entirely upon themfelves. The next day 
 he complained of them in the fenate, and prevailed upon that 
 order to pafs a decree, That no profecution Jbould be brought 
 again/} him for what be bad executed by. virfttt of tbe power 
 which they bad given him. This drove the cabal aga;;;li him 
 to propofe a law for the calling home Pompey with the army 
 under his command, to fecure the liberties of the people 
 againft the pretended tyranny of Cicero: but by the invincible 
 oppofition of Cato this project failed. However, it made fuch 
 an impreflion upon the mind of Cicero, that he refolved to 
 neglect no methods of binding Pompey more ftrongly to his 
 interefts, who had already very great obligations to him, as 
 has been (hewn before. Accordingly, when that general was 
 preparing to return to Rome, he wrote to him : and having 
 complained of his want of friendmip, in not congratulating 
 him upon what he had done during his abfence for the fervice 
 of the ftate ; he compares Pompey to the younger Scipio, and 
 himfelf to Lelius, defiring that their union might be as ftricl 
 as was the famous one between thofe two great men. This 
 produced an appearance of amity towards him, but he himfelf 
 fufpected it not to be fincere, as is evident from his I3th 
 epiftle to Atticus, in which he fays of Pompey, That indeed 
 he made great profefllons of efteem and confederation for him, 
 and affe&ed openly to fupport and praife him; but it waseafy 
 enough to fee he envied him, though he endeavoured to 
 conceal it. Cicero's vanity makes him call that envy, which 
 was really ill-will, for Pompey could not be a friend to any 
 body that had declared himfelf in the interefts of the Repub- 
 lic. The character that Cicero gives of him in the fame let- 
 ter, is very different from that of Scipio, to whom he had 
 compared him a little before: his words are, fpeaking of his 
 conduft, Nibil come-, nibil femplex, nibil i r^ wox]nto 
 bone (turn, nibil illujh't, nibil forte, nibil liber um. And 
 again, in the 2Oth of the fame book, // vir nibil babet am- 
 plum, nibil excel/urn, nibil nin fummiffum & popnlare. 
 
 Would
 
 12 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 Would one believe, that the hero of the fine oration pro lege 
 Manilla, and the Pompey thus defcribed, was the fame man ? 
 Had he nothing great ? nothing elevated? nothing but what 
 was mean and vulgar ? was there neither dignity, nor fpi- 
 rit, nor freedom, nor candour, nor honefty, nor good- 
 nature in his whole behaviour ? But to this perfon, fuch as 
 he is here reprefented, Cicero earneftly laboured to recom- 
 mend himfelf: and he had foon after more need than ever of 
 his protection in the famous quarrel with Clodius, which he 
 entered into more to fatisfy the ill humour of his wife Teren- 
 tia, who was jealous of an intrigue between him and Clodia, 
 than out of any regard to the ceremonies of the Bona Dea. 
 Had he known the parts and capacity of Clcdius as well as he 
 did afterwards when he came to feel them, in all probability 
 he would not have expofed himfelf to the enmity of a man lo 
 able to do him mifchief, and with whom he had always lived 
 before in a degree of friendfhip. But befides that he thought 
 his ruin infallible from the evidence he brought againfl him, 
 the perpetual riot and debauchery in which he pafltd his 
 time, made him apprehend no great confequences from his 
 refentment : but he was foon convinced, that a turn to plea- 
 fure does not always render thofe that follow it unfit for bufi- 
 nefs, efpecially when they are excited to a&ion by any vio- 
 lent paffion. Clodius found means to corrupt his judges, and 
 was no fooner acquitted but he turned all his thoughts to the 
 purfuit of his revenge upon Cicero, and kept him in continual 
 alarms till he got an opportunity of compafling it, which ob- 
 liged him to court Pompey more and more, though fuch a 
 conduct was extreamly inconfittent with his principles of li- 
 berty. As much diftruft as he had exprefTed of that great 
 man's friendfhip in the letter to Atticus I mentioned firll, he 
 now deceived himfelf into an entire dependance on it, and 
 moft of his letters were filled with boafts of his good policy 
 in feeuring fuch a powerful prote&or againft Clodius and all 
 his faction. How little foundation he had for fo much confi- 
 dence, will appear by the fequel of that affair. In the mean^ 
 time there was a bufmefs brought before the fcnatc, which, 
 as it very much affe&ed one of the main points of Cicero's 
 policy, it will be neceflary ro give fonie account of. It had 
 always been his favourite fyftem, through the whole courfe' 
 of his adminiftration, to ftrengthfn the power of the fenate, 
 by a clofe union with the equeftrian order, they making a 
 very confiderable body, and carrying a great weight along 
 with them to which ever fide they inclined. He fucceeded fp 
 well in this defign, that during the conspiracy of Catiline 
 
 the]
 
 T H E L I F E O F C I C E R O. 13 
 
 they were a conftant guard to the fenate, and ready upon all 
 occafions to fupport the refolutions of that houfe. This was 
 certainly a very important fervice to the Commonwealth, 
 and it was no fmall honour to Cicero to have been the author 
 of it (a) : but mod of this order being employed in colle&ing 
 the taxes of the Republic, or in farming of its revenues, there 
 were grievous complaints made againft them from all parts 
 of the empire for the frequent abufes of their office, in all 
 which Cicero was forced to defend them contrary to truth 
 and equity, for fear of alienating them from the fenate. But 
 foon after the affair of Clodius, Cato, who did not underftand 
 thofe managements, accufed the judges who abfolved him of 
 corruption, many of which were Roman knights, and ob- 
 tained a decree againft them. This was refented as an affront 
 upon the whole body, and Cicero, to pacify them again, was 
 obliged to Ipeak in the fenate againft the decree (b). But a 
 much worfe matter that followed fhortly after involved him in 
 new trouble upon their account. Many of them who had 
 farmed the Afian revenues of the cenfor, whofe office it was 
 to fett them, had taken them at too high a price, out of 
 emulation to go beyond the other bidders ; and afterwards, 
 repenting of their bargain, made a moft impudent requeft to 
 the fenate, that they might be difcharged of fo much of 
 their rents as they thought would burthen them too much. 
 It was impoflible for Cato to be patient under fuch a demand : 
 he oppofed it with all his might, and on the other fide Cicero, 
 who knew of what confequence it was not to difoblige the 
 order, fupported them no lefs vigoroufly: the difpute be- 
 tween them lafted a good while, but at length Cato, who 
 had juftice and reafon entirely on his fide, got the better, 
 and the petition was rejected. Experience foon mewed how- 
 much more ufeful it would have been for the Commonwealth 
 to have followed Cicero's advice. The knights, exafperated 
 at the feverity of the fenate, abandoned their party, and 
 gave themfelves up to Csefar, who knew very well how to 
 turn this divifion to his own advantage. It was the fault of 
 Cato not to fee that publick affairs are incapable of perfe&ior, 
 and that it is impoflible to govern a ftate without fubmitting 
 lefler interefts to greater: hence it was that with admirable 
 intentions for the fervice of his country., he fometimes did a 
 great deal of mifchief, for want of diftinguifhing between 
 what was good in fpeculation, and what in practice. This 
 was feldom the cafe with Cicero: when he departed from 
 
 (a} L, IL.Ep. t - (1} Ibid. 
 
 the
 
 i 4 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 the tnterefts of the Republick, it was for the moft part with 
 his eyes open, and without the excufe of error. During thefe 
 wrangles between him and Cato, the triumvirate was fecreily 
 forming, and Caefar, under the fpecious pretence of reconciling 
 Pompey and Craffus, was working himfelf into a (hare of power 
 with them which he knew better than they did how to fup- 
 port (a). Cicero perceived it, and takes notice to Atticus of 
 his growing greatnefs. But as dangerous as this union was to 
 the Commonwealth, he did not think fit to oppofe it, or break 
 with Pompey upon that account ; though he makes the ftrong- 
 eft declarations of his refolution not to abandon the good caufe, 
 but ever to maintain it at all events. It feems he flattered him- 
 ielf with an unaccountable chimasra of being able to govern 
 them both, as he tells Atticus in the firft epittle of the fecond 
 book. And again, in the third of the fame book, he informs 
 his friend that Ceefar had aflured him he would do nothing but 
 by his advice ; poflibly Csefar, being fenfible of his foible, 
 might have foothed his vanity in making him believe fo; but 
 it is much more likely, that his conduct was owing to other 
 motives which are mentioned in that letter, viz. Reditus in 
 gratiatn cum inimicis, pax cum multitudine, feneflutis otium. 
 Thus he manifeftly gave up the care of the Commonwealth 
 to a precarious fafety and mameful eafe ; but he could not 
 help reproaching hinfelf for it at the end of the letter, and 
 acknowledging that this was acting very differently from the 
 virtuous maxims of his confulftiip, and very much beneath 
 his reputation. 
 
 The fifth letter of the fecond book is fo extraordinary a con- 
 feflion of his weaknefs, not to give it a worfe name, that I am 
 furprized how.it came to drop from him even to fo intimate a 
 friend as Atticus. He very ingenuoufly tells him, That if 
 they whom he afterwards calls Tyrants, would have bribed 
 him with the place of augur, they had it in their power to 
 have gained him. Quo quidem uno ( Augur atufcil.) ego ab i/iif 
 tapi poffum ; vide levitatem meam. But, being difappointed 
 in the object of his ambition, he refolves, out of the abund- 
 ance of his virtue, to retire from bufinefs, and philofophize : 
 accordingly he went into the country ; and in the letters he 
 wrote from thence, treats both Clodius and Pompey with 
 great contempt, and even threatens the laft with a publick 
 recantation of all the fine things he had faid of him. While 
 he was abfent, Pompey married Caefar's daughter ; upon 
 which, Cicero, whofe penetration fiw all the confequences 
 
 (a) L. II. p. {. 
 
 of
 
 THELIFEOFCICERO. 15 
 
 .of the fatal alliance, returned to Rome, and, joining with 
 Curio and other oppofers of Caefar in the fenate, endeavoured 
 to obftruffc his defigns, though without offending Pompey, 
 with whom he ftill kept up a (hew of friendfliip. But the 
 ilorm which had hung over him fo long now broke upon his 
 head: Caefar, to be revenged, aflifted Clodius, and got him 
 to be chofen tribune of the people. No fooner was he entered 
 iipon this office, but he openly menaced Cicero with a profe- 
 <cution for the death of the confpirators. This threw him 
 into one of his ufual terrors; but Pompey flattered him with 
 repeated aflurances that he would not fuffer Clodius to pror 
 ceed : at firrt he gave credit to thefe promifes ; but finding 
 that the defign againft him ftill went on, he began to fufped 
 that he was betrayed. His affairs were in this difagreeable 
 poflure, when Caefar, who defired only to draw him off from 
 giving him trouble at Rome, offered to carry him his lieute- 
 nant into Gaul, for which province he was ready to fet out. 
 Plutarch fays he follicited it himfelf, but the letters to Atti- 
 cus exprefsly affirm that the propofal came from Csefar. Be 
 it how it will, there could nothing more advantageous have 
 happened to Cicero at that time. The employment was very 
 honourable, and would have effectually fecured him from the 
 malice and power of his enemies : being fenfible of this him- 
 felf, he was inclined to accept of it, and would have gone 
 with Caefar, if Clodius, perceiving that he was in danger of 
 lofing his revenge, had not very artfully changed his conduct, 
 and, by affecting to feem moderate and void of rancour, per- 
 fiiaded people that he had laid afide his refentment, and was 
 :ven difpofed to a reconciliation if fought for. Cicero was 
 #eak enough to be duped by this behaviour, and refufed the 
 ieutenancy of Caefar, who thereupon infifted with Pompey 
 ipon giving him up to the fury of Clodius, and declared in an 
 iflembly of the people, that he thought Cicero had a&ed ille- 
 gally in putting to death the accomplices of Cataline. Clodius 
 imfhed the affair fo vigoroufly, that Cicero foon found he had 
 tndone himfelf in not making ufe of Caefar's offer. He fell 
 into a moft unmanly deje&ion, changing his robe, and walk- 
 ng about the flreets in a fordid habit y to move the companion 
 i the people, while Clodius infulted and reviled him for his 
 yam of fpirit. The fenate indeed, and the whole equeftrian 
 rder, gave him all the marks he could defire of affe&ion and 
 oncern ; but the faction againft him was the ftronger : Craf- 
 1 13 was his enemy upon many accounts, Catulus was dead, 
 ^ucullus retired from bufinefs : Pompey was his only refource 
 tjd he dill counted upon fame return for the many fervices 
 
 he
 
 ,6 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 he had done him in the courfe of his adminiftration. But it 
 is the juft punifhment of thofe who make themfelves the tools 
 of other men's ambition, That whenever the interefls of tboje 
 they Jerve may happen to demand it, they are Jure to be facri- 
 faed : jor no very ambitious man was ever grateful any fur- 
 ther than it was ufeful to him to be jo. This Cicero moft 
 cruelly experienced, when, going to Pompey to implpre his 
 protection, he, to avoid his importunities or reproaches, re- 
 fufed to fee him. Upon this he utterly loft all hopes, and, 
 abandoning himfelf to the mod abjet complaints, confulted 
 with his friends what he fhould do to avoid the prefent danger. 
 Moft of them advifed him to go voluntarily into banifhment, 
 as the only means to prevent a Civil War; which council 
 he refolved to follow, as moft conformable to his own genius 
 and circumftances. 
 
 In how fpiritlefs and effeminate a manner he behaved dur- 
 ing his exile, is fufficiently known to all the world : the ftain 
 that is left upon his character was too great to be varnifhed 
 over byall the glory of his triumphant return, which he chiefly 
 owed to the imprudenceot Clodius in quarreling with Pompey, 
 though the vigorous proceeding of his friend Milo and the 
 firmnefs of the fenate were of no fmall fervice to him. As 
 foon as he was re-eftablifhed in his former dignities, he linked 
 himfelf more clofely than ever in friendfhip with Pompey, 
 making his court to Caefar at the fame time, whom he found 
 it was not fafe for him to offend. This complaifance had the 
 effect that he propofed from it ; he obtained the place of au*- 
 gur which he defined fo pafilonately, and not long after the. go- 
 vernment of Cilicia. His behaviour in the adminiftration of 
 this province would have done him a great deal of honour, if 
 he could have been content with the reputation he had ac- 
 quired of a wife and upright magiftrate, without aiming at the 
 glory of a foldier, to which he was far from having fo good a 
 title. Cato's anfwer to the letter, in which he folicits him to 
 get a triumph decreed him by the fenate, is a very handfome 
 reproof of his vanity, and a more gentle one than one would 
 have expeaed from the rough nefs of that great man's charader. 
 But notwithftanding all the pains he took to foften his denial, 
 Cicero was grievoufly offended at it; which ill difpofitionpf 
 his, the enemies of Cato, particularly Caefar, omitted no eq- 
 deavours to confirm (a). Upon his return to Rome he found ihf 
 Civil War juft ready to break out between him and Pompejji 
 this extreamly embarraffed him, for he was very defirousJo W 
 
 L.VII.E P . i,ii. 
 
 upor
 
 THELIFEOFCICERO. 17 
 
 Upon good terms with both, and both equally courted him to 
 their party. At firft he attempted to bring them to fome 
 agreement, but he foon found that defign impracticable ; for 
 ambition, which had lormerly made them friends, now made 
 them enemies : then he laboured to diffuade Pompey in parti- 
 cular from hazarding a war, by reprefenting to him the ine- 
 quality of their forces, and that it was now too late to quarrel 
 with the man whom he himfelt had made fo ftrong : thefe ar- 
 guments, juft and reafonable as they were, had no tffe& upon 
 Pompey, who was infatuated with a vain conceit of his own 
 Dower, and a falfe confidence which betrayed him to his ruin, 
 his efforts towards preventing a rupture meeting with no 
 jccefs, Cicero found himfelf in the greateft perplexities for 
 rhich of the two factions he mould declare, On one fide he 
 w a general without authority, troops without obedience^ 
 egle& of all necefiary preparation, and a continual feries of 
 iftakes ; on the other an active leader, a well-difciplined 
 my, great courage, and admirable conduct : whichever got 
 le better, the Commonwealth was almoft equally fure of 
 eing inflaved. That this was the cafe, very plainly appears 
 om many paflages in his Epiftles to Atticus, where he fays, 
 "hat let the fuccefs of the Civil War be what it would, the 
 )nfequence of it would certainly be a tyrant. I (hall only 
 te one, which is in the yth letter of the yth book, Dtpugna+ 
 quit, potius quam fervias : ut quidf ft viflus eris, projcri* 
 ire \Jivicer it, tamen fervias. The only difference was, That 
 ie tyranny of Pompey would be eftablifhed upon the autho- 
 ty of the fenate, and Csefur chofe rather to build his uport 
 e favour of the people. Under thefe difficulties Cicero re- 
 ained fome time, in a mod uneafy fituation ; at laft he tells 
 tticus the conclufion of all his reafonings in the following 
 ords(a): &>uid ergo, inqtlis, afturus es? Idem quod pecudet 
 deputy* Jui generis Jequuntur greges : ut bos armenta, 
 ego bonos virot, out eos qui dicunlur boni, fequar, etiant 
 ruent. He refolves to herd with his own kind ; that is, to 
 How thofe who had the reputation of being the honeft party, 
 e majority of fenators, and the men whofe dignity was moft 
 ninent in the Commonwealth. But though he had taken 
 is refolution, he delayed a good while to execute it, from 
 e natural timidity of his temper. In the mean time, fome 
 his friends that were in Caefar's army, and Csefar himfelf, 
 ere very earneft with him to ftand neuter at leaft, if he 
 ould not join with them, which conduct they perfuadecJ 
 
 ( a ) L. vn. E P . v-a. 
 
 C hiro
 
 
 T 8 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 him would be moft for his honour, as well as infinitely for his 
 advantage. But Pompey preffed him to come immediately 
 to his camp, and in fuch a manner as let him fee, that he re- 
 fented the uncertainty of his behaviour. This alarmed him, 
 and he began to declare himfelf according to his firft intention, 
 though he every day faw more reafon to apprehend the ill 
 fuccefs of their party. But what determined him at la ft was 
 the feverity with which Pompey threatened to proceed againft 
 all who remained unadive and neuters in the quarrel ; Cru- 
 deliter minabitur otioftt (<?), fays he in a letter to one of his 
 friends. And in another to Atticus he tells him (f), that 
 the leaft he (Atticub) would fuffer if Pompey fhould be victo- 
 rious, was a confifcation of all his fortufne ; and that as many 
 as continued in the fame neutrality muft expect to come off 
 no better. He himfelf, therefore, upon the report of fome 
 difadvantage Caefar lay under in Spain (which, contrary to 
 the expectation of his enemies, he foon furmounted), fet fail, 
 and joined Pompey at his camp in Greece, who received him 
 coldly, as knowing he came thither very much againft his will. 
 He endeavoured to revenge himfelf by bitter railleries upon' 
 the ill management of their affairs, and fo derided the weak- 
 nefs of the party, that it drew from Pompey this fevere re-. 
 proof, Pafs into Ctefar's camp, and then you iu ill give wer% 
 ridiculing us, and begin to fear us. Cicero fo far followed] 
 his advice, that he withdrew himfelf before the battle of Phar-^ 
 falia, and immediately after that decifive action made his 
 peace with the conqueror. From that time to the death of? 
 Casfar, he led a moft inglorious and diftionourable life, courtJ 
 ing the ufurper, whom in his heart he hated, with the moftj 
 abjeft and fervile adulations, entirely forgetting the dignity 
 of his former character, and not even hiding the difgraceful 
 circumftances of hisprefent fituation by a prudent and modeft 
 retreat, but expofmg them to the eyes of the publick, and 
 braving the cenfures of mankind. Yet in this unworthy and 
 contemptible fcene of action, which brought fuch a cloud 
 upon his reputation, one merit he ftill preferved, that in hj$ 
 flatteries to Caefar he (hewed a regard to the interefts of hif | 
 friends, and the fafety of thofe who had faithfully ferved the 
 Commonwealth. Such a condud fhews there were yet fome 
 fparks of virtue remaining in him ; and though it does not i 
 atone for the mean homage which he paid to the tyrant of, 
 his country, yet it certainly leflbns the guilt and takes off from 
 
 E/'vi . 
 
 Ad Varronem, L. Xl 
 the
 
 THE LIFE or CICERO. 19 
 
 the infamy of his crime. The confpiracy againft Csefar, which 
 was formed and executed without his participation, is a plain 
 proof bow low he was then fallen in the opinion of honed: men; 
 for who was fo fit to have engaged in a defign againft the life 
 pf an ufurper, as the deftroyer of Catiline and his accom- 
 plices? from whom cou id the Republick fo properly exped 
 her freedom, as from him who had before defended it in fo 
 imminent a danger? But they who efpoufed that caufe which 
 he had defer ted, law and knew that he had no longer fpirit 
 enough for fo great an undertaking; and therefore they con- 
 tented themselves with requiring his approbation afterwards, 
 which they were fatisfied he would mt rtfufe them when the 
 blow was rtruck ; and then indeed, as they expeded he would 
 do, he returned to the maxims of his former policy, and his 
 character in fome meafure recovered its former luftre. He en- 
 tered into the interefts of the confpirators, and did them all 
 the fervice he was able, the particular intfances of which it 
 will not be neceflary to mention here. But when he found 
 that all was going again to wreck by the cabals of Antony and 
 other friends of Caefar, when Brutus and the other heads of 
 the confpiracy were obliged to yield to the violence of the con- 
 iun&ure and abandon Italy, he too judged it prudent to retire, 
 and took (hipping to go into Greece - t but, meeting with con- 
 trary winds, he was driven back once or twice to (hore ; by 
 which delay, time was given tohisfriendsin Rome to acquaint 
 him with Antony's having made a decree, for the perpetual 
 abolifliment of the didatormip, which Sylla and Csefar had 
 nade fo odious, and fome other popular ads, that gave them 
 hopes he would return to his duty, and no longer hinder the 
 eiloration of the Commonwealth. Being thus called back 
 3y, what he terms himfelf, the general voice of his country* 
 and looking upon the accidents which had delayed his paflage 
 as miraculous declarations of the will of Providence to com- 
 mand his return, he made what hafte he could to Rome, 
 where he was received by the whole city with uncommon ho- 
 ppurs. But the good opinion he had conceived of Antony did 
 ?ot laft long : fome harm' words he fpoke in the fenate con- 
 cerning him, occafioned a very lharp reply, which Antony 
 refenting, loudly threatened him in his oration, and accufed 
 htm as an accomplice of Csefar's murder, Cicero from 
 that moment kept no meafures with him ; but, arming 
 himfelf with all the thunder of his eloquence, poured 
 forth thole terrible invetives which compelled the fenate to 
 declare war upon Antony, and foon after drove him out of 
 Italy. This was certainly a very great aaion, and one of the 
 C 2 Ihining
 
 20 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 ftiining parts of Cicero's life; but poffibly he would have done 
 the ftate more fervice, in the fituation it then was, if his ani- 
 mofity againft Antony had been lefs violent, becaufe it preci- 
 pitated the execution of thofe defigns which ended in the ruin 
 of the Commonwealth ; at leaft this was the opinion of Bru- 
 tus, as appears by feveral pafTages in his letters. But there is 
 another part of his conduct, which it will be more difficult to 
 know how to juflify. I mean his committing the fafety of the 
 Republick to an ambitious boy, who, from the near relation 
 he bore to Csefar, could never be a proper perfon to defend it 
 in conjunction with his father's murderers. At firft indeed it 
 might lock like good policy, to make ufe of his credit among 
 the friends and fcldiers of Julius Csefar, againft the more for- 
 midable greatnefs of Mark Antony ; but when he afterwards 
 grew fo powerful, it was a moft inconfiderate and fatal miftake 
 to continue him any longer in employment, and put the laft 
 ftake of liberty into the hands of one who had fo great temp- 
 tations to betray it. It feems O&avius, unexperienced as he 
 was, had difcovered the old man's weak fide, and, by flatter- 
 ing and perfuadingb;im that he would always aft fubfervient 
 to his authority, hrid engaged him to that exceffive confidences 
 which his friends faw the danger of, though he did not. BriM 
 tus in particular, whofeeyes were ever open to all that might' 
 affect the Commonwealth, made him ftrong and frequent in- 
 fiances to have a care of fetting up one tyrant while he watf 
 pulling down another : but when, without any regard to thefe y 
 remonftrances, he carried his fervility fo far as even to fup- 
 plicate Oaaviusfcr the lives of Brutus ard the other confpi-'' 
 rators, that truly great andfree-fpirited Roman could not help 
 venting his indignation againft him in two letters, one to At| 
 ticus (a), and the other -to Cicero himfelf, which are at the] 
 fame time the nobleft monuments of the heroick virtue of him 
 that wrote them, and the moft unanfwerable condemnation* 
 of that condua which gave occafion to them. And indeed 
 he had too much reafon to fay, that Cicero afted as if he 
 \vas nctfo felicitous about fecuring the liberty of his country, 
 as to chufe a mafter who would be favourable to himfelf. 
 hut what moft of all exafperated Brutus was, that in the ex- 
 eels ol : his.complaifance for Oaavius, he had even refkaed- 
 Cafca, whofe caufe had be.en efpoufed by him with fo. 
 ucn warmth, and upon whofe aaion he had beftowed fuch 
 n encomiums, while he had freedom and courage to fpeak 
 this Brutus, whofe reputation was ftrongty 
 
 (a.) Ep. xvi, xvii. ad Bruturn. 
 
 linked?
 
 T H E L I F E O F C I C E R O. 21 
 
 linked to that of Cafca, moft grievoufly complains to Atticus, 
 and tells him with a noble contempt, that though he and his 
 aflbciates, in the generous defign of delivering the whole world 
 from flavery, did not boaft fomuch of the Ides oj Manb as Ci- 
 |cero of the Nones of December (a), yet tl.eir glory was not 
 (inferior to his, nor their characters lets facred. I murt tran- 
 'fcribe both the letters, if I were to repeat all the admirable 
 ireprools which they contain of Cicero's baleneis and indiftre- 
 jtion, in fo meanly courting the enemy of the Commonwealth, 
 jand for having planted and inpporteo a tyianny, wbofe roots 
 /ere like to ftrike deeper, and grow more lirongly, than that 
 f Antony ; which he valued himlelf upon having attempted 
 o deftroy. All that can be alledged in his excufe is, that he 
 >elieved he (hould be able to deprive O&avius of the power 
 ic had given him, when the intereft of the ftate fhould re- 
 [uire it: there are fome pa Page": in the hiftory of thofe times, 
 which feem to favour this luppuiition, and even to aflure us, 
 hat he intended doing it, when he was prevented by the fud- 
 len forming of the triumvirate. It is faid that Panfa, who 
 received a mortal wound at the battle of Modena, declared 
 it his death, to the young Caefar, that the fenate only made 
 fe of him as an inftrument of their vengeance upon Antonv, 
 ind that they were determined to rrake him the next facrifice 
 :o the jealoufy of the republick. There was alfo an expref- 
 [ion of Cicero reported to him, in which, by an equivocation 
 eafily underftood, there was intimated adtfign to cut him off 
 'Jaudandum juvenem ornandum tollendum () as foon as he 
 lad ferved their turn; upon which, he openly declared that 
 " : e would take care to put it cut of their power. If this was 
 he cafe, it very much takes off from the ingratitude of Oc- 
 avius, in confcnting to the death cf his benefa&cr, fince 
 uch double dealing could hardly deferve the name of an obli- 
 gation, let the effects of it be ever fo advantageous. Upon 
 the whole, I am inclined to think, that though his behaviour 
 in regard to Caefar was productive of infinite mifchiefs, yet 
 he meant well in it to the Commonwealth, and that the fault 
 was rather of his judgment than his heart : but to whatever 
 caufe it is to be afcribed, he fuffered death as a punimment 
 for it, and fell himfelf the earlieft victim to that tyranny his 
 mifmanagementhadeftablifhed (r). There was fomething mean 
 in the circumftances that immediately preceded his murder ; 
 
 (a) At which time Cicero quafhed the confpiracy of Catiline. 
 
 (b) V. Epift. D. Bruto, lib. XL. ad Fauiiliares, Ep. 20. 
 
 (c) See Plutarch. 
 
 C 3 but
 
 22 OBSERVATIONS, &<!. 
 
 but at the inftant of death itfelf he behaved with dignity, and 
 {hewed a firmnefs rot unworthy of a Roman. 
 
 In his private character he was very amiable, only feme- 
 times too much given to raillery, a fault which very witty 
 men are feldom wife enough to fhun. I cannot pals fo fevere 
 a cenfure as fome have done upon his grief for the death of 
 his daughter Tullia, whofe extraordinary merit is a fufficient 
 anfwer to thofe who reproach it with the name of weaknefs. 
 Great minds are moft fenfible of fuch lofTes; and the fenti-j 
 ments of humanity and affe&ion are ufually moft tender, 
 where, in every other refpet, there is {he greateft ftrength of 
 reafon. 
 
 I (hall clofe thefe obfervations with one remark upon the 
 works of Cicero, that they are a ftong proof how eflentid 
 freedom is to the excellency of writing, particularly in the 
 two moft manly kinds of it, philofophy and oratory ; fmce, 
 after the lofs of the Roman liberties, they were fo far from 
 ever being equalled, that all attempts which were made to 
 imitate them, ferved only to demonftrate that the genius and 
 learning of Rome were funk together with its constitution. 
 Poetry indeed, and other parts of literature which are only 
 proper for amufement, may poflibly flourifh under the fmiles- 
 of an arbitrary Prince ; but force and folidity of reafoning, or 
 a fublime and commanding eloquence, are inconfiftent with 
 flavifh reftraint, or timorous dependency. 
 
 C B S E R-
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 ROMAN HISTORY. 
 
 From a Manufcript of the late Lord LYTTLETON, com- 
 municated by WILLIAM HENRY LYTTLETON, Efq.
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 ROMAN HISTORY. 
 
 'N the early part of my youth I wrote a little treatife, en- 
 L titled Observations on the Life of Cicero, which went 
 rough two editions ; the firft coming out in the year 1731, 
 e fecond in the year i 741. During the laft of thefe years 
 r. Middleton alfo published his Life of Cicero, in the pre- 
 ce to which elegant and elaborate work he did me the ho- 
 >ur to take fome notice of mine, and exprefled a wifli that I 
 ould re-confider the fubje& in a more extenfive view of that 
 eat man's whole conduct. Finding my mind difengaged 
 3m other occupations, I now obey that call ; and, upon ex- 
 lining the general (rate of the times in which Cicero lived, 
 lave made Tome reflections, which induce me to enlarge my 
 ft defign, fo as to take in the whole period from the firft 
 eration of the Roman republickinto an abfolute monarchy, 
 the fhort ufurpation of Cornelius Sylla, to the final fettle- 
 nt of the Imperial power, another fpecies of defpotifm, no 
 s violently aflumed, but more moderately exercifed, and 
 )re artfully constituted, by Auguftus Cscfar. 
 The means by which Sylla, after a dangerous conteft, ob- 
 ned an uncontrouled dominion over Rome, are fo well fet 
 |rth by Plutarch, that no comment upon them will be necefiary 
 Ire (a). Iftiallonly take notice of a weighty obfervation, made 
 another hiftorian, who wrote in thofe times, viz. that the 
 jny, which, under the command of this conful, expelled 
 lius Marius and all his party out of Rome, was the firjl 
 I man army vjbicb ever bad entered into that city in a bojlile 
 inner. To this I will add, that Sylla was the firft Roman 
 lieral who ventured to refift a decree of the people, how- 
 
 '*) V. Plur. Vit. Svll. & Mar. App. Alexandria de Bello 
 
 ever
 
 26 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 ever ill procured, and to continue himfelf in the command of 
 an army againft their orders, by the aid and ftrength ot that 
 army. But it muft be alfo obfcrved, that although the dif- 
 fentions preceding rhis event had not rifen to the heighth of 
 civil war, yet tor fome time before thefe legions drew their 
 fwords in their general's quarrel, the violent outrages of the] 
 tribune Sulpicius and his armed band of ruffians, which he; 
 called his Anti-ienate, had, in effca, deftroyed the legal go-j 
 vernment and liberty of the ftate. Nor was it only the fury; 
 of a popular fadion which had produced thefe diforders. By] 
 the barbarous murder of Tiberius Gracchus the fenate itlelf 
 had fet the example of fuch pernicious riots. The laws, whichj 
 could not guard the facred perfon of a tribune from the cluba 
 of a mob brought againft him by the nobles, became as unable^ 
 to protect the nobles from the daggers of villains, banded t(j"- ; 
 gether againft them by feditious plebeians. And this anarchy 
 foon conftrained both parties to refort to a military force. 
 
 At the end of the civil war Sylla found himfelf mafter aft 
 the Roman Commonwealth. Had he then fheathed the fwordH 
 without doing any injury to the freedom of his country, he 
 would have been ranked among her greateft heroes: but* 
 againft the whole tenor of his former behaviour, he (hewel^ 
 himfelf a worfe tyrant than Marius had been in the utmoft ea^ 
 cedes of his defpotifm and cruelty, after Cinna had brought 
 him back to Rome. 
 
 It would be out of the compafs of what 1 propofe in thefc 
 remarks, were I to relate all the horrors of the bloody profcrijv 
 tion carried on by Sylla's orders: but, concerning the m* 
 giftracy, under the name of which hechofe toexercife his tjfc 
 ranny, (I mean the didatorfhip) fomething muft be faid ifl 
 this place. 
 
 %The inftitution of this office was almoft coaeval with the 
 liberty of Rome. Twelve years after the expulfion of Tafi 
 quin the Proud, or, as fome reckon, only eight (a), (ita lex j^\ 
 bebat de diflatore ereando lata,) a law was made for the creafrl 
 ing of a dictator, with a power fuperior to that of all other of- 
 ficers, military or civil, and fubjeft to no appeal, being onff! 
 reftrained by the following limitations that it was to be ex- 
 ercifed within the bounds of Italy, and not for more than ft 
 months. The idea of it feems to have been taken from Alba 
 (b) of which city the Romans were a colony, and may there 
 fore have adopted, without much deliberation, what had toei 
 praftifed there : but the occafion of their having recourfe to JJ 
 
 (a] Liv. 1. i. c. 1 8. (1) Liv. ut fupra.
 
 THEROMAN HISTORY. ?. 7 
 
 was (according to Livy) the inftant dread of a war, which 
 thirty Latin cities, confederated with the Sabines, threatened 
 to make again ft Rome. 
 
 Other reaions have been given, but this feems the moft pro- 
 bable ; becaufe military operations are better carried on by a 
 bogie commander, than by two equal chiefs ; and.the people, 
 at a time of imminent danger, might more eafily be induced to 
 constitute fuch an officer for the defence of their country 
 agamft foreign enemies, than if the law had been firft propof- 
 ed by the fenate tor any political purpofe. Yet they (hould 
 have confidered, that the didatorial power extended over the 
 ftate, as well as over the army, and that the nobles might ufe 
 it as an engine agamft them upon other occafions. 
 
 The nomination of this magiflrate appears to have been 
 afligned by law to either of the two confuls ; but the choice 
 was confined to fome one of thofe fenators who had before ob- 
 tained the confulfhip: and the ufual method was, for the fe- 
 nate to decree, u$on any great exigency, that a didator fhould 
 be made, and to d.red on what perfon of confular dignity the 
 nomination fhould fall. Yet it was in the power of either of 
 the confuls, without any order from tbem, and without the ap- 
 probation of his colleague to name, of his own accord, any 
 confular fenator to this fupreme magiftracy ; and their appro- 
 bation, concurring with fuch an appointment, fully ratified 
 and confirmed it, however difagreeable it might be to the 
 >eople. A remarkable inftance of this, and hkewife of the 
 ufe occafionally made of the didatorial power for the purpofes 
 the fenate, occurs in the account which is given by Livy 
 )f the events of the year 316 from the building of Rome (A 
 , te ^ s u /> that ^e fenate reproaching the confuls with a 
 jeglea of their duty, for not having exerted the authority of 
 Heir charge to pumfh a confpiracy of the Roman knieht, 
 bpunus Malms, with fome tribunes of the people, againft the 
 Commonwealth, one of them faid, The blame laid on them 
 "as unjuft: for they, being fubjed to the controul of the laws, 
 h had given an appeal from them to the people, wanted 
 ength in i their mag.ftracy, more than they did in their minds, 
 o mfl.a the vengeance due to a crime of this nature. (Opus 
 tfe non Jorti folum viro, fed ettam libero exfolutoque iegum 
 w///. Itaquefe drfatorem Lucittm Quintium difJurum.} 
 hat there was need of a man, not only courageous, but 
 neoverfree, and not fettered with the rejlraints of the 
 nvs. He tberejore would name Lucius Qjintius diflator." 
 
 (a) L. iv. c. 13, 14, 15. Ann. Urb. Condit. 316. 
 
 The
 
 2 8 OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 The whole fenate approving it, Lucius Quintius was ac- 
 cordingly named to that office; and the next day guards of 
 foldiers having been placed in the forum, Caius Scrvilius Aha- 
 la, whom he had appointed his general of the horfe, cited Mx- 
 lius, by his orders, to come before his tribunal, and anfwer 
 there to the charge brought againft him in the fenate. But, 
 he calling on the people to fuccour him in this danger, which, 
 he faid, was drawn upon him by his kindnefs to them and the 
 malice of the fenate, fome of them refcued him from the hands 
 of an officer, who was going to carry him before the dictator : 
 whereupon Servilius, affifttd by a band of young patricians, 
 followed him into the crowd, in which he had taken refuge, 
 and killed him there with hisown hand : after which, covered 
 over with the blood he had fhed, he went back to Quintius, 
 and told him what he had done. That magiftrate praifed him 
 for having freed the republick \ and then, in an harangue 
 which he made to the people whom the fight of this deed had 
 thrown into a tumult, declared (Medium )-,& c<ffum, etiamji 
 regni crimine injons fuerit, qui vocatus a magi/lro equitum ad 
 diflatorem non venijflet,) 'That Mcflius, though he ivere inno- 
 cent of afpiring to make blmjelf king of Rome, with which bt 
 bad been charged, ivas yet jujlly put to death, becanfe, ba l uing\ 
 been cited by the majlcr cf the horfe, to come before the difla- 
 tor, be did not come. 
 
 'When we confider, that this man was probably guilty of 
 no other treafon, than affecting to render himfelf too popular,] 
 by largefles of corn to the people, in a time of great dearth ;j 
 it mud appear that a power, which, upon fuch an occafion,j 
 could fo fuddenly be called forth, and fo violently exerciled,! 
 was not very confident with the much-boafted liberty of thd 
 Roman republick. 
 
 The conftitution of that ftate is praifed by Polybius (a), as 
 a happy mixture of monarchy, ariftocracy, and democracvJ 
 but the diaatormip brought into it a kind of domination 
 more properly tyrannical than regal. 
 
 For, in a limited monarchy, the king is not ahfolute, boij 
 reftrained \,y the laws, and his minifters are refponfible to thrJ 
 other eftates of the kingdom, or the courts ot judicature 
 therein, for any abufeof his power: but a diftator in RoiwJ 
 (abjolutus legum vinculus) was abfolved by his office froni 
 all reftraints of the laws, and not accountable to the fenate, o ; J 
 affembly of the people, or any other jurifdiaion, for any a6 
 he had done in the exercife of his charge, however arbitrar-j 
 
 () Polyb.l. vi.
 
 THE ROMAN HISTORY. 29. 
 
 or illegal. If it be faid, that the regal power in the Roman 
 conftitution was exercifed by confuls, and the di&atorfliip was 
 only an extraordinary remedy, to which recourfe was had in 
 fudden emergencies, when the ordinary courfe of government 
 was unable to anfwer the exigency of the ftate, or provide 
 for its fafety, I anfwer, that not only the confuls, or the fenate, 
 or both thefe powers united, but the people alfo as one confti- 
 tutional part of the Roman commonwealth, ought to have 
 judged of the neceflity of employing this remedy, fo dangerous 
 ro their freedom, and without their confent it never fhould 
 have been ufed. Thus, in England, where a mixed conftitu- 
 tion of government unites the powers of monarchy, ariftocracy, 
 : and democracy, much more happily than that of Rome ever 
 jdid, even in its bed ftate, (as I hope to fhew in the courfe of 
 thefe remarks) if extraordinary dangers require that the Ha- 
 beas Corpus law (the great fecurity of our freedom) mould for 
 a time be fufpended, it can only be done by the joint advice 
 and authority of the whole legiflature. And if, in any cafe 
 where delay would be fatal, the fafety of the publick appa- 
 rently obliges the king, in whom alone the executive power 
 refides, to act againft this or any other law, without having 
 been previoufly impowered fo to "do by both houfes of parlia- 
 ment, his minifters are refponfible for it to their country, 
 ind can no otherwife be fecured than by a bill of indemnity, 
 which, if the neceflity pleaded for their juftification is found 
 jo have been real, the lords and commons will not refufe to 
 j>afs. But, in Rome, a Tingle conful, agreeing with the fenate 
 ,o name a dictator, without the concurrence and againft the 
 vill of the people, might fubjeci, at any time, the liberty and 
 ihe life of every Roman citizen to the arbitrary power of one 
 (nan, fet above all the laws, and in no way refponfible, for the 
 ixercife of his fovereignty, to thejufticeof the ftate. Indeed, 
 fter the end of the iecond Punic war, the fenate itfelf grew 
 ip jealous of the danger of this office, that, for 120 years be 
 ibre Sylla took it, no dictator was appointed. The manner 
 n which he chofe to have it conferred on him demands ob- 
 .irvation. 
 
 Both the confuls of the year 670 (a), from the building of 
 \orne, having perimed in the war which Sylla and his friends 
 lade againft them, he notified to the fenate, that, agreeably 
 |p the cuftom of their anceftors in fuch cafes, they fhould 
 reate an interrex, to hold the comitia for eleaing new con- 
 Is. They named to that office the prefident of the fenate, 
 
 (a) Applan. de Bdlo Civ. 1. i. 
 
 Lucius
 
 jo OBSERVATIONS ON 
 
 Lucius Valerius Flaccus, to whom Sylla wrote, and bade him 
 report his opinion to the people, that the prefent flate of af- 
 fairs required the appointment of a di&ator ; not for the term 
 of fix months, but till the whole commonwealth, and every 
 part of the empire, which the civil wars had fhaken, fhould 
 be more firmly fettled, and brought into better order ; adding, 
 at the end of his letter, that, if the fenate approved it, he of- 
 fered himfelf to do the republick this fervice. His offer was 
 underftood to be a command : he therefore was named dila- 
 tor by the interrex, without any term being fixed for the ex- 
 piration of his office; and thus (fays Appian) the diflatorjl>ip % 
 which bad before been a tyranny limittat to a ftort time, this 
 rejlraint being taken off, became a tyranny compleat (a). 
 
 Nor yet was the dictator content with this indefinite pro- 
 longation of his power; but caufed a law to be propofed by 
 the interrex to the pewple, which ratified all bis ali> ivbat- 
 gver they might be\ and authorized him to put to death, with- 
 out a trial, any citizen of Rome, according to bis plfafure. 
 
 Cicero, (peaking of this law, in one of his orations, calls it 
 the mojl unjufi and m^Ji unlike a law, that had ever beem 
 made(b)', and in his treatife De Legibus, confiders it as null 
 and void in itfelf. Yet to fuch an extreme degree of fervi* 
 lily were the people and fenate reduced, that it was enadecj 
 without the leaft oppofition ; and Sylla rewarded Flaccus foi* 
 having been the propounder of it, by naming him to the dig? 
 nity of his general of the horfe ! 
 
 Having thus, under the colour of a legal authority, afTumed 
 the moft abfolute and enormous defpotilm, he made fevera! 
 laws for the fettlement of the ftate, chiefly tending to raife 
 the power of the fenate. This was contrary to the policy of 
 every other tyrant, who, either at Rome, or elfewhere, had 
 ever enflaved a free country ! But the fpirit of party w#| 
 $rong in Sylla's mind ; and, as all his greaieft enemies had 
 courted the peqple, he was led by refentment, and by eveff 
 connexion he had hitherto formed, to favour the nobles, m 
 .a&ifig on this .plan his principal objecl was, to reduce the aijri 
 thorny of the tribunes of the people. But, before I take nq 
 -tice of what he did to that purpofe, feme account mud M! 
 jgiven of the nature and power of the tribunhial office. 
 
 About fifteen years after the expulfion of Tarquin, in \M 
 ;26oth year of Rome (c), the people obtained, by a treafl 
 ..with the fenate, that they mould, for the future, have 
 
 t () Appiftp. de Bello Civ. 1. i. (b} De Legc Agraria, con^f 
 Rullum, Orat. 17. De Legibus, 1. i. c. 15. (.-) Liv. 1. ii. c. 33. 
 Dionyf. Halic. 1. vai* 
 
 ilratc
 
 THE ROMAN-HISTORY. 31 
 
 grates of their own, whofe perfons fhould be deemed inviolably 
 
 fccred ; and that no patrician mould be capable of holding this 
 
 magiftracy, which, by what was called interce/ten, had power 
 
 to prote6t them againft any injuries from the conluls or fe- 
 
 itate (a). The number of thefe magiftrates, at their firft in- 
 
 ftitution, was five, and continued Ib til! the year of Rome 
 
 296, when it was augmented to ten, and never afterwards 
 
 altered. They were annually choftn ; and a law was made, 
 
 in the year of Rome 282, that the eledions fhould be in the 
 
 aflembly of the people, not by centuries, but by tribes (!>}, 
 
 from which the patricians were entirely excluded, and where,, 
 
 the loweft of the populace always making a majority, the fenfe 
 
 of the better fort was little regarded. Soon after their firft 
 
 creation, the tribunes added to the power of proteding vhe 
 
 jpeople that of accufmg the nobles and judgmg them by the 
 
 people, and of flopping, by a negative from any one of their 
 
 umber, any decree of the fenate! Thefe pomts being gained, 
 
 notwithstanding all the force of a warm oppofition on the part 
 
 t the nobles, the tribunes in procels of tme extended their 
 
 uthonty to a right of propofing any law to the people with- 
 
 ut the aflent of the fenate, and referring to them any bufi- 
 
 efs treated of in that houfe. 
 
 The exercife of thefe powers was carried on with a violence 
 lore refembling the anarchy of a ftateof war, than the order- 
 jjifts of regular magiftrates in a well-fettled commonwealth 
 Tibenus Gracchus, in the year of Rome 619, forbade any 
 ubhck bufmefs to be carried on in the city, (ill, notw.th- 
 andmg the oppofition of one of his colleagues, his Agrarian 
 w had been propofed to the people. He alfo fealed up the 
 oorofthetreafury, that none of the quajftors, who Ud the 
 dmimftrat.on of the publick revenue, might enter into it - 
 nd (topped the praetors from performing the duty of their 
 ffice in i trying of caufes, by threatening them with fin?s, till 
 very -obltacle to his legiflation from any other magistrate 
 lould have been removed (r). In the year of Rome 614, the 
 ibunes of the people contending for what they had no right 
 >, that each of them ihould have a power to exempt from 
 ^Obligation of military fervice ten citizens at his choice- 
 bd the confuls of that year refitting the attempt, they or! 
 ered both thofc fupreme magiftrates to be carried to prifon- 
 nch was accordingly done: an a&, by which the whole 
 elty of the confular power, which reprefenled the reeal, 
 as violated and deftroyed. If fuch exertions of the tribu- 
 
 (*) Liv. !. iii. c, 30. (b) L. ii. c.* 5 6, 57. ( C ) Liv. 1. Iv. c. 2. 
 
 ritial
 
 32 OBSERVATIONS, cVc. 
 nitial power had been frequent, the government muft have 
 fallen into a mere democracy, or rather, indeed, into a ty- 
 rannical oligarchy in the perfonsof the tribunes ; but the ad- 
 miniftration of this power being divided, at firft, between 
 five perfons, and afterwards between ten, a check was ufually 
 given to the extravagances of it, by the oppofition of fome 
 one among thofe magiftrates to what the others propofed : and 
 to this, on many occafions, the fenate had recouife, particu- 
 larly in their conteft with Tiberius Gracchus about his Agra- 
 rian laws (a), the pafling of which they obftruled by the in- 
 terceffion or negative of Marcus Octavius, one of his col- 
 leagues : nor could he any otherwife pet over that obftacle, 
 than by caufing the people to depofe O&avius, if he would 
 not defift from that oppofition which his magiftracy gave 
 him a right to make. This had never been done in any other 
 inftance, and was then confidered by many as an odius ad of 
 violence, which, for the purpofes of a factious demagogue, 
 flagrantly violated the fan&ity given by the laws to the perfon 
 of a tribune, and tended to deftroy the facred power of that 
 office by the people themfelves. But Gracchus pleaded, 
 with great force, the neceflity of it, in order to prevent the 
 betraying of the people, in points of the higheft moment, by 
 fome of thofe very magiftrates who were inftituted to ferve 
 them. And it muft be confeft that the blame of this irregu- 
 lar z& ought lefs to fall on him than on the bad conftitutionj 
 of the magiftracy itfelf. As unanimity in all thofe inverted 'i 
 therewith could feldom be hojed for, the only means of giv-^ 
 ing confiftency to it, and carrying things on in a quiet andl 
 orderly courfe, would have been the deciding of all differenced 
 among them, by a majority of votes : but, each having a 
 power, by his fingle oppofition, to flop any aft of his col 
 leagues, the obftinacy of one was fufficient to obftrua any bu- 
 fmefs ; and that impediment could not be removed by any 
 other method than depriving him of his office. 
 
 (*) See Liv 7 , J. Ji. c . 44. 1. iv. 48. 1. vi. 3^. 39. et al. Appian, 
 Plutarch, Epuome iibri Iviii. Liv. Freinlhem. Supplem. 
 
 NOTES
 
 [ 33 ] 
 NOTES on the preceding OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 *. 34. And the ttfual method was, for the fenate to decree, 
 upon any great exigency, that a diflator Jhould be made, 
 and to direfl on what perfon of confular dignity the nomi- 
 ; nation Jlould fall. 
 
 ( In relating the tranfa&ionsof the year 318 from the build- 
 ftg of Rome, Livy ufes thefe words, " Major itaque ex 
 iivibus amilTis dolor quam laetitia fufis hoftibus fuit ; et fena- 
 L// (ut in trepidis rebus) diflatorem did Mamercvm Mmi- 
 lium jujfit." See alfo other proofs of their exercifing this 
 ower, which the fame hiftorian gives, 1. iv. c. 46. Ann. 
 Jrb. Condit. 317. 1. ix. c. 38. Ann. Urb. Condit. 444. 
 
 Yet we find that fome confuls did not think themfelves 
 ound to obey fuch an order : for (as Livy alfo informs us) 
 } the year of Rome 324 (a], the fenate, alarmed at the ex- 
 aordinary preparations of the /Equi and Volfci againft the 
 loman ftate, and ftill more apprehenfive of bad confequences 
 -om the difcord between the two confuls, who differed in all 
 tounfels the one from the other, recurred to the expedient 
 :f creating a di&ator : but thofe magiftrates, fo difcordant 
 ji all other points, agreed in pertinacioufly refufing to name 
 ne : whereupon, as the danger, by new intelligences 
 irought, feemed to be more and more dreadful, Quintus Ser- 
 {lius Prifcus, who, with a great reputation, had held the 
 ligheft dignities of the commonwealth, applying himfelf to 
 .me of the tribunes of the people, who were prefent in the 
 jnate-houfe, told them, the fenate called upon them in that 
 {tremity to compel the confuls, by their power, to name a 
 
 There had never been a precedent, either of fuch a refu- 
 1 on the part of the confuls, or of fuch an application on 
 lie part of the fenate. The tribunes, glad of the opportu- 
 iity to augment their power, after confulting apart with all 
 'ieir colleagues, declared, // was their pleafure, that the con- 
 >ds fbould obey the decree of the fenate \ and, if tbefe Jbould 
 'rjtjl in a longer refinance againjl it, they would fend them 
 
 prifon. The confuls chufing (fays Livy) to be overcome 
 y the tribunes rather than by the fenate, yielded to this 
 )mmand ; but not without a proteft againft the injury done 
 i the confular power, which the fenate thus betrayed. Nor 
 et could they agree which (hould name the dictator, but 
 ided the difpute by cafting lots. 
 
 L. iv. c. 26. 
 
 D In
 
 34 NOTES ON 
 
 In the year of Rome 347 () when the confular office 
 was exercifed by three military tribunes, inftead of two con- 
 fuls, thefe making a refinance to a decree of the fenate foi 
 creating a dictator, the tribunes of the people were again ap- 
 plied to by that body, for the aid of their power to force t 
 compliance : but they, difcontented at feeing the plebeian; 
 perpetually excluded, by the influence and intrigues of th< 
 patricians, from the military tribunefhip, to which, by law, 
 they might attain, though not to the confulfhip, fullenly re- 
 fufed their affiftance. Yet they faid, that, when all the 
 dignities of the ftate fhould be, without diftinttion, commu- 
 nicated to the people, they would then take good care that tbt 
 decrees of the Jenatejbould not be made inefffflual by any ar- 
 rogance of the magiftrates. This refource having failed, th 
 contention was kept up between the fenate and two of th 
 military tribunes; who, thinking themielves equal to th< 
 conduct of the war, complained " that the dignity they hac 
 obtained from the people (hould be thus t*ken from them 
 but the third faid, that hitherto he had remained filent, be 
 caufe he rather de fired that his colleagues fhould yield to thr 
 authority of the fenate, without any force upon them, thai 
 fuffer the power of the tribunes of the people to be implore< 
 againft them. That even now he would willingly give then 
 more time lo alter their opinion, if the exigency of the ftatt 
 could bear that delay ; bur, as the neceffity of war wouh 
 rot wait for longer confutations, he would prefer the fervio 
 of the public to their good-will, and contenting himfelf with 
 the fol-e authority of the fenate (whatever oppofition migh 
 be made againft it) would name a dictator that night." H 
 did fo; and this (hews, that any one of the confuls, or mili 
 tary tribunes, with confular power, might name a dictate 
 without the confent of his colleague or colleagues : the reafo 
 of which, doubtlefs, was, that the natural unwillmgnefs i 
 the mind of fuch a magiftrate, to make over to another rh 
 fupreme command, would probably hinder its being unnecel 
 farily or wantonly done; but on many occafions a contrar 
 difpofition might be well apprehended ; and the abfence < 
 one conful, or military tribune, on the public fervice ahroac 
 nmght happen to difappoint the defire of the fenate, if th 
 concurrence of both confuls, or of all the military tribune 
 had been neceiTary to this at. 
 
 In the year of Rome 542 (), the fenate decreed, that th ', 
 coniul, before he went out of the city, Jbould aft the peop 
 
 () Liv, 1. iv. 58. (4) Liv. I. xxvii. 5. 
 
 tube
 
 THE PRECEDING OBSERVATIONS. 35 
 
 they would be pleafed to have him name difiator, and 
 Jbould name the perfon they ordered ; adding, that, if the con- 
 ul refufed to refer this matter to the people, the prsetor 
 fhould do it ; and if the prsetor would not, it mould be done 
 by the tribunes. The conful did refufe, declaring that he 
 would not conlult the people on a matter which was in bis 
 own power, and forbade the praetor to do it ; whereupon it 
 was done by the tribunes of the poeple, and the people enatf- 
 ed, that gumtus Fuhius, -who was then at Capua, Jbould be 
 named delator. Quum conful fe populum rogaturum ne- 
 gailet, quod fuaf poteflatis ejj~ct, praetoremque vetuiflet ro- 
 feare; tnbuni plebis rogarunt, plebefque fcntit, ut 6> Ful- 
 wtus, (jut turn ad Capuam erat, deflator diceretur. 
 
 I find no orher inftance in the Roman hiftory of the fe- 
 nate s fubm.mng to the will of .he people the nomination of 
 .the perfon who ihnuld be raifed to this office. 
 
 The purpofe of creating a diftator at this time was only 
 .that the comma, or a (Tern bly of the people for eleding the 
 nag.ftrates of the enfuing year, might be held by that of- 
 ficer, inflead of one of the confuls ; it being necelTary that 
 ;^oth ftiould be abfent from Rome upon military fervice, m 
 ; ihe.r leveral provinces, when the aflembly was held The 
 |:aufe of referring the affair to the people, in this extraordi- 
 nary manner, was a difference which arofe between the fe- 
 pare and the conful, M. Valerius Lavinus ; the latter chu- 
 ing to name M. Valerius MefTalla, who commanded the 
 .^oman fleet ,n Sidly, to which province he was going ; 
 ,md the fathers denying that a didator could legally be 
 oamcd out of Italy. The difpute was ended, in confluence 
 >f the decree of the people, by the other conful, Marcellus, 
 >emg fent lor to Rome, and naming Quintus Fulvius, agree- 
 -bly to their order. 
 
 34- " e tells us, that the fenate reproaching the con- 
 fuls w.th a neglea of their duty, for not having exerted 
 the authority of their charge, to punifh a confpiracy of the 
 Roman knight, Spurius Mselius, with fome tribunes of 
 the people, againft the commonwealth, one of them faid, 
 J he blame laid on them was unjnfi ; f or they, being f u h' f # 
 to the controuloj the laws, which bad given an appeal tr sm 
 them to the people, wanted Jlrengtb in their magiftracy, 
 more than they did ,n their minds, to ir,fl,a the Vengeance 
 due to a crime of this nature. That there was need cf a 
 man, not only courageous, but moreover free, and not fet- 
 
 rfllltn tl\A *- a n**-l.^i- _ f A* J . r - J 
 
 f the laws. He therefore would
 
 3 6 NOTES ON 
 
 name Lucius ^uintius difiator (a). The words of Livy are 
 thefe : Turn Titus Qiiintius, confules imtnerito increparij 
 ait, qui conjlrifti legibus de provocatione, ad dffihendum im- 
 per/urn latis, nequaquam tantum virium in magijlratu, ad 
 earn rent pro atrocitate vindicandum, quantum animi baberent. 
 Opus e(Je non forti folum viro, fed etiam liber o exfolutoque 
 levum vinculis. Itaque fe diflatorem Lucium ^uintium dic~ 
 turum." 
 
 Thefe w.ords feem entirely to overturn the opinion of feme 
 learned writers en the Roman hiftory, that the law, propofed 
 by the confuls, Horatius and Valerius, in the year of Rome 
 306, eftabl.fhed a right of appealing to the people againft the 
 ats or decrees of a dictator. For, had this been true, it 
 would have been the grofleft abfurdiiy for Livy to make T. 
 Quintius, no more than ten years afterwards, (ann. U. C, 
 316) give it as a reafon for naming a dictator, that the con- 
 fulsj being fubjefi to the laws of appeal, had not (trength in 
 their magiftracy furTicient for the exigency of the dale at 
 that time. A magiflrate equally fubjefl to the laws of appeal) 
 could not have fupplied the defect of power in them. But 
 the hiflorian fays expre'sly, that the dictator was free from 
 that reftraint, liber exjolutufque legum vinculis. Indeed it 
 appears that the law of Horatius and Valerius had no re- 
 ference to the dictatorial office, the object of it being to pre- 
 vent the introduction of any new-invented magiftracy, fuch 
 as the decemvirate had been, without the controul of an ap- 
 peal to the people (b). Livy writes of it thus : " Aliam deindt 
 confularem legem de pro-vocatione, unicum prafidium liberta- 
 tis, decemviraii pote/late fverfam, non reftituunt modo, fei\ 
 et;am in psflernm muniunt Janciendo imam legem, ne quit', 
 ijllum mavijlratum fine provocalione crearet, qui creaffrt euM\ 
 jus fafque eff.t occidi, neve ea cades capita/is noxa hnberetur" 
 The dictatorship certainly was not a magiftracy created a r ter| 
 tliis law, having betn eftablimed long before, in the year of 
 Rome 253 or 257. And what power the law de diflatorei 
 creando had originally given to it, the fame hiftorian inform^ 
 us in the following words : Creato didatore primum Ro- 
 nncc, poftqurtm praeferri fecures viderunt, magnus j ' ' rm 
 netus mceffit, ut intentiores eflent ad dido parendum. Ne-> 
 qne enim, ut in confulibus, qui pari pntcfule erant, alterius: 
 auxMmm, neque provocatio erat, nee ullum, n'/~, in curj p+ 
 rend,, wffi/ww." It was therefore a power without appeal, 
 :o any other magiftrate or to the people ; a power ti\ 
 
 WAnn Urb.Condit. 3,6.- (*) L.Jii.c. 55. 
 
 gainfl !
 
 THE PRECEDING OBSERVATIONS. 37 
 gainft the terror of which the people had no help, but unre- 
 Jfiiling obedience. And this refutes the opinion of Algernon 
 Sidney, who, in his celebrated Effay on Government (a) y 
 contends that when dictators are laid to have been/; provo- 
 cattoney it is only to be understood in relation to other magi- 
 ftrates, and not to the people ; which, he fays, " is clearly 
 ' proved in the cafe of Quinius Fabius, whom Papirius,' 
 " the dictator, would have put to death (Liv. 1. iiL c. 33.) 
 Tribunos plebis appello (fays Fabius's father) et prcvoco ad 
 " pof>ulum, eumque tibi fugienti exercitus tui, fugienti Jena- 
 <* tus judicium, judicem fero, qui eerie unus plufquam tua 
 t( diElatura poteji polletque : videro ceffuritjne *Jis provoca- 
 
 tioni, cut Tu/ius Ho/ttlius cej/it?" 
 
 But, if we look to what followed (as the fame hiftorian re- 
 lates it) (b) we (hall find that Papirius continued firm in af- 
 ferting the majefty of his office ; and, though he fpartd the 
 life of Fabius, at the interceffion of the people, yet he took 
 care to exprefs, that the offender was not faved by any revtr- 
 fal or over-ruling of the fentence which he had part agaiuft 
 him, nor by any right in the tribunes, or in the people, to 
 help him, but was given to their prayers. " Stupentcs tri- 
 * bunos, et fuam jam vicem magis anxios, quarn ejus, cui 
 " auxilium ab fe petebatur, liberavit onere confenfus populi 
 " Roman! ad preces et obttftationem -uerfus, ut fibi pcenarn 
 ** magiflri equitum diflator remltterety tribuni quoque in- 
 t( clinatam rem in preces Jubfecuti orare diflatarem injljlunt 
 *' ut veniam errori bumano, veniam adolefcentia 6^ Fabii 
 " daret, fatis eum pcenarum dedifle. Jam ipfe adolefcens, 
 t( jam pater M. Fabius contention!* obliti procumbere ad 
 " genua, et iram deprecari diclatorif. Turn dictator, filen- 
 t( tio fato, bene habet, inquit, Quirites, vicit dilciplina 
 " militaris ; vicit imperil majejl as, qux in difcrimine fue- 
 " runt, an ulla poft hunc diem efienr. Non noxae eximitur 
 
 Q^ Fabius, qui contra ediclum imperatoris pugnavit ; ftd 
 " noxae damnatus donatur populo Romano, donatur tribuni- 
 tiae poteftati, precarium nonjuftum auxilium ferenti." 
 
 From all this it appears, that no lawful authority in the 
 tribunes or people of Rome delivered <X. Fabius from the 
 fentence pronounced by the dictatorial power. He was only 
 faved becaufe they fupplicated for him ; and their fupplica- 
 tions themfelves were a very fufficient proof that no appeal 
 j/ajr to them. They might indeed (as the right of making laws 
 was in them, efpecially with the confent of the lenate) have 
 
 ()P. 1 18. ()Liv. viii. 1. 34, 35. 
 
 D 3
 
 3 8 N O T E S O N, &c. 
 
 pafled a law (plebifcitum) to reftrain the di&atorial power 
 from a6Hng againft Fabius, as they afterwards did pafs one, 
 jn favour of Minucius, to render the power of the matter of 
 the horfe equal to that of the dictator (a) : for laws may be 
 made repugnant to the principles of any conftitution by an 
 abufe of the legislative authority in thofe to whom it is truft- 
 ed : and this, it fefrns, was what Papirius apprehended ; but 
 he firmly maintained the conftitutional power belonging to 
 his office, of judging in this cafe without the controul of any 
 appeal to them ; and this independency, afTerted by him, they 
 in effecl: acknowledged, when they had recourfe to entreaties 
 againft the execution of his decree, inftead of reverfing it, 
 er flopping its effect, by any aft of thtirs. 
 
 (a) Liv. I. xxii. 25.
 
 CONSIDERATIONS 
 
 UPON THE PRESENT 
 
 STATE OF OUR AFFAIRS, 
 
 A T 
 
 HOME AND ABROAD. 
 
 I N A 
 
 LETTER to a MEMBER of PARLIAMENT, 
 from a FRIEND in the Country.
 
 [4'] 
 
 &A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 A MEMBER of PARLIAMENT, 
 
 FROM 
 
 A FRIEND in the COUNTRY. 
 S I R, 
 
 I AM a private gentleman of fome property in the county 
 of and voted for you at the election of this parlia- 
 
 ment. I voted for you neither as a whig nor as a tory ; but 
 as a gentleman, whom I believed to be in the intereft of my 
 country. For this reafon only I preferred you to your com- 
 petitor, and gave you the vote I might have fold to him. 
 Since that time I have heard with pleafure of your conduct, 
 and find no reafon to repent of my choice. You ferve me 
 well in parliament, and I don't defire to be ferved by you 
 any where elfe. I have never folicited, I never will folicit 
 you, though you mould come to have a better intereft at 
 court, for any of tbofe little places, which feem of late to 
 have been multiplied, only to anfwer the demands of men in 
 my fituation, as far as poifible, upon thoie in yours ; and 
 which are become almoft the only fubjeft of correfponder.ee 
 between members of pailiament, and their friends in the 
 country. You will therefore permit me to take the liberty 
 now of correfponding with you on another foot, and after 
 four years filence to remind you a little of what 1 have a right 
 to expe& from you a> my reprefentative. The importance 
 of the conjuncture will excufe my prefumptton. It is not dif- 
 ficult for us now to fpeak upon thefe matters : they are brought 
 fo home to our minds, they are made fo plain to ourfenles, that 
 we cannot be doubtful what opinion to form. It is hardly ne- 
 cefiary to reafon ; it is enough to feel. There is a time, 
 when wrong and mifchievous meafures may be difguifed ; 
 out there is a time too when they will difcover themfelves. 
 While the evil feeds are fowing, thofe alone are alarmed, who 
 lave penetration enough to fee things in their caufe.s ; but 
 
 when
 
 42 ALETTERTO 
 
 when they are grown up, and the fruits appear, the grofs of 
 mankind have capacity to judge, andfpirit to complain. This, 
 Sir, is the circumflance of the people of England. They 
 fuffer too much to be amufed : and if they continue to fuffer, 
 it will not be from error, or infenfibility, but from luch 
 caules as I do not care to fuppofe. There is reafon to hope 
 that their complaints will be redrefled ; and in that hope I 
 write this letter to you. I (hall propofe to your confideration 
 fome particular points which, we in the country think, fhould 
 make the bufmefs of this feflion ; and if you agree to my rea- 
 fomngs, I dare promife myfelf, you will not afterwards differ 
 from them in your condufl. 
 
 Sir, we are a trading nation ; and whatever affefts our trade 
 is our neareft concern, ar.d ought to be our principal ore. 
 
 Of all the branches of our commerce that to our own co- 
 lonies is the moft valuable upon many accounts. If I am 
 rightly informed, it is by that alone we are enabled now to 
 carry on the reft. And as it is the moft ufeful to us, fo for 
 many reafons it naturally ought to be the moft Jecure. Fortign 
 markets may be loft or fpoilt by various accidents : other na- 
 tions may get in, and carry commodities, that may be pre- 
 ferred to ours ; or, by working cheaper, may be able perhaps 
 to undersell us there. And by thefe means I am afraid we 
 have found our trade decline confidtrably in many parts of the 
 world. But in cur own plantations nothing of this can hap.' 
 pen. The trade we have there is engrofied by ourfelves \ 
 all other nations are excluded from it, and we carry it on ui> 
 der fuch regulations as are moft for our advantage. In cor*- 
 fequence of which, it is the nurfery of our feamen, the fupc 
 port of our navigation, and the life of our manufacturers. > 
 But of late years our merchants palling to and from our 
 colonies have been ftopr, examined, plundered, and abufed 
 by the Spaniards, our fhips confifcated, and our feamen er>- 
 fkved, fo that the navigation thither is become fo dangerous, 
 that, if an effectual ftop be not foon put to thefe practices, 
 this moft beneficial commerce will be utterly loft. The orir 
 ginal fource of them is a right of fovereignty which the Spa- 
 niards arrogate to themfelves in the American feas ; a claifll 
 thai has always been treated with derifion and fcorn by evety 
 power in Europe, and particularly by us who were really 
 matters of thofe feas, from the glorious reign of Queen Eli- 
 zabeth, down to the weak oieof King Charles the Second. 
 And this claim of Spain is ftill fo far from being owned by us : 
 that though it be afecret motive, they have not yet had the 
 infclence to avow it openly as the caufe of their proceedings] 
 
 Bu
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 43 
 
 But they treat every Britifh (hip, which they areahleto maf- 
 ter, as it the failing only in thole feas was a fufficient caule 
 of confilcation. 1 hey have feized and condemned outward- 
 bound ihips, above a hundred leagues from any more, without 
 any pretence at all ; and where they are gracioufly pleafed to 
 artign pretencesfor theirdepredaiions, tbofe pretences areworje 
 than the depredations tbemfehes. They pretend that every (hip, 
 which \\zslogwood, cocoa-nuts, or pieces of eight aboard, is 
 lawful prize. Now two of thefe grow in our own colonies ; 
 and the South-fea company, by the Afllento contrad, fur- 
 rim the Spaniards with Negroes, which they pay for in pieces 
 of eight ; and as the principal market for thefe Negroes is Ja- 
 maica, this occafions the circulating a great deal of that fpe- 
 cie there : fo that we might with hill as good reafon (lop the 
 Ihips of Spain in their paflage by Jamaica, or our other plan- 
 Itations, and con6fcate thtm formally, if we find aboard of 
 them either logwjod, cocoa-nutf t or pieces of eight; for this 
 .will juft as well prove that they have been trading with our 
 coloniet, as our having fuch goods aboard can prove that we 
 have been trading with theirs. And their manner of trial is 
 a mockery of juitice, which would be highly ridiculous, if 
 the effeas of it were not fo terrible. The caufe is tried in 
 their own courts in America, a Spanifh advocate is to plead 
 for our merchants, and the judges themfelves almoft always 
 fhare in the prize. The confluence of this is, that every 
 friip which is taken by them muft be confifcated. 
 , But fuppofing, for argument's fake, that all thofe fpecies 
 iof goods upon which fentence is part by this moft righteous 
 judicature, were undeniable proofs of an illicit trade, on what 
 ground of the law of nation^ or by what article of any treaty, 
 ihave the Spaniards a right to /top or fear cb our flips at all? 
 :"Where a general trade is allowed, one fpecies of goods may 
 be prohibited ; as, for inftance, wool, or fuller's earth ; and 
 : the exporting it may be highly penal : but did this country 
 ever pretend, whenher naval power was at the height, to (top 
 ihips o-tt at fea, in order to fearch whether fuch commodities 
 were aboard? would the little republick of Genoa endure 
 lour doing it ? could any thing lefs than a conqueft Bring her 
 Jto fubmit to it ? But the doing it in America is much lels de- 
 fenfible. For where no general trade is allowed, no one par- 
 ticular fpecies of goods can be more prohibited than another, 
 -.and tbefearcbing there has no objeft at all, and no foundation 
 im reafon. All the rules therefore laid down in the treaty of 
 1166 , between England and Spain, concerning the method 
 of Marching tor prohibited goods, are plainly confined to 
 
 Europe,
 
 44 A LETTER TO 
 
 Europe, where a general trade is allowed ; and have no re- 
 ton to America, where all trade is forbid For in the one 
 cafe hey may be neceffary, but in the other they mud be 
 "feefs. y Anditismuchobe wimed, that this mo ft man- 
 feft diftinftion bad been better underjlood by our mimjhr, in 
 their treating with Spam; and that, by infifting on articles 
 lh ch are not to our purpofe, they had not weakened thofe 
 by which our rights are fecured. The ground on which thole 
 rights ftand is the law of nations, which eftabl.mes a freedom 
 of navigation to all, and confideis the fea as an un.verfal be- 
 nefit, not a particular property or dominion of one : there is 
 no nation/, powerful, none/, proud in the world, as d, redly 
 to deny this maxim ; there is none Jo weak, none Jo abjefi, 
 as to give it up. We have been fo far from departing from 
 it by treaty, that in ail thofe we have made concerning Ame- 
 rica it is exprefsly ftipulated, and indubitably confirmed, par- 
 ticularly in that of 1670 ; which declares that the freedom of 
 navigation ought by no manner of means to be interrupted, 
 and makes no other exception to this general rule, than a 
 reciprocal prohibition to both nations in America, to come 
 into the ports and havens of the other to trade there ; for in 
 cafes of diftrefs, or neceflity, the fame treaty allows, that 
 they may come into them, and ought to be kindly received. 
 As to our failing near their coajls, it is not only permitted, 
 but it is of abfolute neceflity in the courfe of our voyage to 
 and from our own plantations in America : bo-w near we mail 
 go to them, it is impoflible to fix, becaufe it depends upon 
 circumftances we cannot command, as winds, and tides \ 
 but very near we muft go frequently ; and they reciprocally 
 rnuft go near to ours. No treaty therefore has ever fettlel 
 any bounds, except the ports and havens of eilher crown in 
 America, within which U inail not be lawful to fail ; nor call 
 they be fettled, fo as not to U liable to infinite difficulties 
 and endlefs chicane. 
 
 It remains then certain, that in reafon, and juftice, by 
 the law of nations, and by all our treaties, the way to and 
 from our own dominions in America is as free as the paflage 
 between London ana Briftol ; and that Spain has no more 
 right to ftop and fearch our ihips in the feas ot America, tha* 
 in the Britrfi channel. 
 
 Indeed this practice of fearcbing is fo very inexcufable, that 
 it cannot be fupported upon any notion of right. Nothing 
 can warrant it hut fuperior force, and the famous argument of 
 Brennus Vee Viflis! All forts of mifchiefs muft arife froijl 
 admitting it, or from merely iuffering it, as we have fadli 
 
 experience^
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 45 
 experienced, and no one inconvenience can attend its being 
 penied. Were our (hips found trading in the Spanijb ports 
 bnd havens themfelves, even in that cale, though they ought 
 |to be confifcated, it is a great abfurdity to fuppofe they fhould 
 be Jearched. For as the {hip and cargo, be it what it will, 
 is forfeited by our being there without diftrefs, or neceflity, 
 Sto what intent or purpole is afearcb to be made after any par- 
 ticular fpecies we may have aboard ? but upon this pretence 
 Jo flop our (hips on the high feas, is to infult our underjland- 
 ', and defpife our power, as well as to infringe our rights, 
 and to deftroy our trade. 
 
 Thus for fome years things have gone on from bad to worfe, 
 England complaining and remonftrating, Spain chicaning and 
 nfulting ; fatisfadion fometimesrefufed, fometimes promifed, 
 never given : our negotiations, and our loffes always con- 
 ^inuing, and encrcaftng almojl in the fame proportion : at laft 
 bur merchant?, weary of thefe ufelefs methods, applied a third 
 rime to parliament, and petitioned there for redrefs. In the 
 (rourfe of their examination it appeared too plain, that we had 
 peen treated by Spain with the urmoft injuftice, the utmoft 
 Barbarity, and the utmoft contempt : and that no one effectual 
 $ep had been taken to procure reparation for our loffes, fa- 
 iisfacYion to our honour, or fecurity for our trade. It ap- 
 peared indeed, that as far as writing would go, our miniftry 
 jiad tried to put a flop to thefe infults. They had fpared no 
 bins, they had fpared no paper. Memorials, representations 
 P the court of Spain had been as frequent, and as little 
 hinded, as the orders and cedu'as fent from thence, in behalf 
 If our merchants, to the Spamfh tribunals, and governors in 
 kmerica. Neither produced any effed, but to encreafe the 
 tepredations, augment o>fr fufferngs, and amufe the fufferers. 
 ; 4ay, though in confequence of a treaty with Spain, in which 
 /e ferved her more perbap' than we could jujlify, commina- 
 jies were appointed to adiuft thefe differences, and obtain 
 pftitution for our lofles, as a return for favours received, 
 hough they continued negotiating for fome years in Spain, 
 Sough much was promifed from this commiflion, yet it does 
 jot appear, that any body got by it, but the commiJJ'aries 
 hemfelvef. 
 
 ' Upon the proof of all this it was the fenfeof parliament, that 
 hore effectual meafures ought to be purfued. And to enable his 
 lajefty to take them, great fupplies were voted, great arma- 
 lients made; the whole nation expeQed, and defired a war, if 
 |ich a peace could not be gained, as would retrieve our honour, 
 nd fecure our trade. Soon after the parliament rofe, the war 
 
 appeared
 
 46 ALETTERTO 
 
 appeared inevitable : ftrong fleets were fitted out, and fent to 
 Spam, and the Indies: this could not be done wuhout a vaft 
 exptnce, great obftruclion to our trade, and hardfhips on our 
 faiiors. Yet fuch was the fpiritof the people, fuch the refent- 
 ment at the indignities put upon the king and nation, that 
 they came into it chearfuliy; and not a murmur was heard 
 unlefs againft the Spaniards. I believe it will be difficult to 
 find a period in hiftory, when this nation was fo univerfally 
 and fo eagerly bent upon a war, as at that time. 1 hey had 
 a juft abnorrence, and a juft difdatn of the Spaniards ; nor 
 did tbofe, who are known to judge the beft of foreign affairs, 
 apprehend any danger, at that crifts, from any other more 
 formidable power ; fo that all concluded we fhould at -with 
 vigour, when it was more than probable we might acl: with 
 fuccefs : and the effort we bad made, the force we had 
 raiftd, was very fufficient to give us a fuperiority in fo juft a 
 quarrel ; a quarrel in which all nations trading to America 
 had an equal intereft, and a common caufe with England : it 
 was now believed, our adminirtration would fhew, that their 
 former remiffnefs did not proceed from fear, or negligence ; 
 but that they curbed their fpirit till the point oj time t when 
 they might be fure to exert it with deciftve advantages. Thij 
 their friends gave out, and candid men were willing to think ; 
 efpecially as it was faid, that one great perfon had declared* 
 he thought it for the intereft of a minifter to have war rather 
 than peace. But in the height and warmth of thefe expecla- 
 tions, while all Europe was intent on the motions and opera- 
 tions of our fleets, we heard of a convention being figned* 
 and that we might exped a fpetdy accommodation of our 
 differences by a peace. 
 
 Of the terms of this convention you will, no doubt, he ap- 
 prifed at the meeting of the parliament ; and then you will 
 judge, whether it is proportionate to the charge we have 
 been at, the opportunity we have neglected, the wrongs wt 
 have fuftained, the fatisraclion and fecurity we have a right 
 
 I only beg leave to mark out to you two principal pointy 
 upon which 1 think you cannot miftake in forming yotd 
 judgement. If we make a peace, it ought to be fuch, at 
 will remove, in the moft effeaual manner, both the caufit 
 and pretence, of the injuries done us by the Spanifh nation. 
 
 Now the pretence for them has been folely this, that the) 
 claim a right of flopping and iearching our fhips on th< 
 high feas, or near their own coafts ; which claim of theirs u 
 ur.fupported by treaty, and diredly repugnant to the law ol 
 
 nations,
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 47 
 nations, to the rights of our crown, and the freedom of our 
 navigation. If therefore we clearly afiert, that they have no 
 fucb rigbt ; that where \ve have no trade with them there 
 can be no prohibited goods ; that we have a liberty to fail at 
 nigb to their coafts as the courfe of our voyage, the conve- 
 nience of winds and tides, and other circumftances of navi- 
 gation, may require; that, in pursuing that courfe, our mips 
 are not to be fear c bed orjiopt on any account ; that, in cajet 
 of neiejjity, they may even enter their ports, and that only in 
 cafe of trading there they are to be feized ; if we exprefsly 
 afiert all this in our treaty of peace, it may be a fecure and 
 lading one, and delerves well the fan&ion of parliament. 
 
 But if we leave this loofe, or if we admit of any limitt, 
 within which a fearcb may be made on any pretence, we have 
 yielded every thing, we have no fecurity, all will be fubjedl 
 to diipute and chicane ; we (hall have the fame weary round 
 to run, ot applications to Madrid, references from thence to 
 the Weft-Indies, and from the Weft-Indies to Madrid again; 
 and, after the folemn hearing of our wrongs in parliament, 
 after laying open all our wounds to the view of the world, 
 after declarations of right, and lofty threats of refentment, 
 after millions fpent, we mail be in a worfe condition, than 
 we ever have been yet by any former treaty, or than we 
 fhould have been, if we had taken no notice of the com- 
 plaints of our merchants, and not moved in them at all. 
 
 As to the other point, the canfe of all thefe injuries, I 
 
 take it to have been the contempt this nation is fallen into, 
 
 from what unhappily may have ftemed to our enemies a def- 
 
 .picahle tamenefs and pufillanimity in our conduct. How far 
 
 rhis has gone, I am afhamed to fay. Thofe, who to infult 
 
 js could not prefume on their own ftrength, by long obferv- 
 
 jng, or fuppofing they obferved, a weaknefs in our councils, 
 
 pave come to fuppofe it in the nation itfelf: and on this pre- 
 
 j'umption they became as arrogant, as they imagined Kng- 
 
 ibnd to be timid, and weak. They have certainly a&ed as if 
 
 ! hey thought we were the mcaneft of nations, or that the 
 
 jitanejl of minijlert had conducted our affa.rs. This preju- 
 
 jJice, therefore, muft be removed, or we (hall continue to 
 
 jufler, as much as we have done, and ftill more : for, w here 
 
 .mpunity is certain, infolence knows no bounds. If the 
 
 ^eacc we makedoes not retrieveour reputation, it is impofllble 
 
 t can laft, for /'/ may be broke without fear. Spa"in can 
 
 ;.ave no reafon to keep it, unlefs it is made on fuch terms, ss 
 
 I jo convince her that the temper, and fpirit of our court is 
 
 # rhacged ; and that we will bear no longer what we have 
 
 borne
 
 4 8 ALETTERTO 
 
 borne fo long. Should any article of it be di/honourable or 
 mean, though all the reft were advantageous, that alone 
 would be fatal, becaufe it would leave us expofed to endlefs 
 infults and affronts, the certain confequence of a ftain im- 
 printed on our national chafer. Reputation is to a people, 
 juft what credit is to a merchant. The firft depends on an 
 opinion of ftrength, as the latter does on an opinion of opu- 
 lence. But that opinion of opulence is a real advantage, 
 that opinion of ftrength is a real fecurity. When a con- 
 trary notion prevails in the cafe of the merchant, when his 
 credit is hurt, there comes a run upon him fuddenly, and, by 
 being thought inefficient, he becomes fo in reality. The 
 fame thing may happen to a nation from the lofs of cha- 
 rader. An opinion of its weaknefs may encourage enemies, 
 may unite them againfl it in a fudden attack, may difhearten 
 its friends, and leave it deftitute of fuccour. All which 
 might have been prevented, had due care been taken to fup- 
 port the opinion of its ftrength by a fpinted conduct. I 
 hope attention will be had to this in our peace with Spain, 
 and that we fhall on no account yield to any thing fcanda/ous, 
 but feek reparation to our honour, as well as to our mer- 
 chants. And I dare anfwer for them, that, great as their 
 JofTes are, they had rather endure them without any com- 
 penfation, than have it made in a way, that may be difgrace- 
 iul to their country. Sure I am it would be better for them 
 to lofe their money, or for us to pay it out of our own 
 pockets, than, for the fake of retribution to them, to admit 
 of a treaty, in which the fecurity of our commerce is not 
 firmly eftablifhed, beyond a pofilbility of all future cavils, 
 by exprtfs declarations of our right not to be fearcbed. For 
 to admit of fuch a treaty would be r,o lefs an abfurdity 
 than to be bribed iv:tb our own money to our own undoing. 
 
 In thefe plain lights, i^ir, I hope you will confider this 
 convention, when it fhall be laid before you in the courfe of 
 thefeflion. You will not, I dare fay, fuffer yourfelf to b$ 
 amuftd with nice diflincYions, and refinement of policy. Yott 
 will remember how ufelefs, nay, how fatal, all thefe fubtil- 
 ties have hitherto proved, and what they are like to produce. 
 You will defire to fee a treaty, which (hall not be the begin- 
 ning, but the end of negotiation ; which fhall fpeak fo plain, 
 that every Englifh country-gentleman, and every Spanifh go- 
 vernor in the Indies, (hall underftand the fenfe of it, as well 
 as the WalpolSi, and La Quadras. 
 
 You
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 49 
 
 You will not be fatisfied with a prefent compliance, and 
 temporary expedients, which are only patch work, nor refer 
 that to commiflaries, which requires inftant difpatch ; nor 
 Puffer that to be argued which is inconteftable ; but demand 
 a folid and a durable peace, founded on real fecurity, and eX- 
 prefs acknowledgment of all thofe rights that have been que- 
 ftioned by Spain, either with regard to our commerce, or to 
 our poffeflions. For nothing lefs than this will fatisfy tbe 
 hat ion. 
 
 And when this is done, you will confider of the methods, 
 how to turn this peace to the beft advantage, and fecure it 
 effectually for the time to come. The only way of doing 
 that, Sir, is, to put the nation in a condition to be feared ; 
 and this can only be done, by reducing its debt, and gradu- 
 ally leflening its taxes. 
 
 It is a melancholy thought that fo much time mould have 
 been loft from this neceffary work, fince it has been in our 
 power. I believe it could be proved almoft to a demonftra- 
 tion, that ever fince the peace of Utrecht, we might have 
 attended to it conftantly, without the leaft interruption from 
 our neighbours abroad, who had no defire to difturb us, till 
 within thefe few years paft, when, notwithstanding great 
 compliances on our fide, the hoftilities of Spain have loudly 
 called for our refentment. In all our quarrels during the late 
 reign, though it can no more be doubted that the intereft of 
 ^.ngland was the only point confidered, than that Bremen 
 'and Verden were never thought of in tbem t yet how far that 
 -intereji was rightly underftood by us, is not quite fo clear. 
 To fome it appears we had no grounds for quarrelling, no 
 more than we had upon other occafions for negotiating ; and 
 that we might better have been quiet, if fuch ative abilities, 
 as fome of our minifters were endowed with, could have been 
 content to repofe. But the entering lightly into wars, and 
 (alliances, in which we had no concern, or a very diftant one 
 at moft, if it was the fault, was not the only fault of our go- 
 vernment. 
 
 Thofe who cannot fee into the depth of our policiry, and 
 :he infcrutable wifdom of our councils, may be apt to think, 
 hat we have been no lefs faulty in our way of managing peace y 
 n our neglect of ufing the advantages attending it, and in 
 Ending the fecret by an unaccountable conduct, to make it 
 is expert/ive, and as ruinous as war : that we have purcbafed 
 iifionour at as dear a rate y as we did glory in fome former 
 reigns : that this has continued, this has fixed upon us the 
 difficulties, which, with tolerable management, ought to 
 E have
 
 50 A LETTER TO 
 
 have been conquered long ago: and that to this 
 not to King William, or Queen Anne, if we are adiflreft, 
 and a declining nation. Had ,t not heen for this, fay they, 
 we have had Itifure enough to pay off great part of our debt, 
 and to encreafe the finking fund to fuch an annual fum, as, 
 would enable the government to maintain our dignity, with-, 
 put waftng our fubflance. Had that been done, we had, 
 been now a mighty people, eafy at home, and formidable; 
 abroad. And though we had no difputes with Spain, yet, 
 on other accounts, it would be highly defirable for us to b^ 
 in tbofe circumjtances, rather than in a ftate of indigence, f 
 which muft be a ftate of fear. For though by reafon of 
 fome lucky circumftar.ces at this juncture we have no caufe. 
 to apprehend any inftant danger from France, thole, who, 
 look forwards at all, have very dreadful apptehenfions. The 
 Empire is already open to her by Alface, and Loraine, andi 
 there has been a terrible alarm, that it may foon be fo by; 
 Luxembourg!!. The weaknefs of the Low Countries is ap T li 
 parent to every body ; and God knows how foon they majrjj 
 be made a facrifice either to the friendfiip, or the aims of 
 France. If the power of that crown in former times had 
 equalled its ambition, Europe had been loft ; if its ambition 
 now fhall equal its power, it will probably accomplifh what 
 it then defigned. And bad is our condition, when our fate if, 
 to depend on a fpint of conqueft not prevailing in that court. 
 They have wifely been doing what we ought to have 
 done. They have, by oeconomy, by attention to trade, by, 
 eafing their people, and hufbandmg well the monej theyi 
 raifc, laid fuch foundations for their future greatnefs, that ifi : 
 an enterprifing minifter fhould fucceed to ibis, he will find 
 advantages, which his greateft predecefTors, Richlieu, Ma- 
 zarin, Colbert, Louvois, never had, and will have reafon to 
 ex peQ: a much more glorious fuccefs. What may then be 
 the circum (lances of that kingdom, and this ? On one fide; 
 mortgaged revenues, ctedit funk at home and abroad, an eXrl> 
 hauftcd, difpirited, difcontented people : on the other, a 
 rich and popular government, ftrong in alliances, in reputa- 
 tion, in the confidence and affecYton of its fubjeds. WiK 
 the conteft be equal between tbefe twi powers ? and what ar 
 aggravation is it to the pain of this thought, to reflect how; 
 cafily we might have been in a condition, to fave cm tclve: 
 and Europe from this danger and fear ; if, for thefe KfflH 
 years part, (to go no higher) our debt hadilecre:ifed, in pro-!) 
 portion to the means that have been in our hands, and nc 
 
 greatc:
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 5I 
 
 greater expence had been incurred by the government 
 than the real necefTity of affairs required ! We might then 
 have fpoke to France w.th as much authority, as Lomes 
 His nation in the common caufe, efpec.aily if we had taken 
 any care at the fame rime to let our/elves at the head of the 
 Prcteftant mtereft, which is our natural port ; and has, on 
 former occafions, g.ven great advantages as well as luftre to 
 e crown of England. Had we purfued thefe meafures, wtf 
 ftould now have nothing to dread ; by pur fuing them flea- 
 Wy we may yet be fate, we may yet be confiderable wo 
 
 V Ct h l d M hC balanCe f Eu P e - ButTa wiferad! 
 n.n,ftr.t,on (hail reftore our affairs, little dignity, or vfgour, 
 s to be expeded ,n our counals. Some appearance ff 
 Tr may perhaps be maintained ; but it wifimpofeoW 
 ody ; no, not en curfews. To ,h,nk that keeping up, at 
 
 VaX 
 
 bemnlh > * r * 
 
 o employ them, can fecure our reputation, is as grofs a mi- 
 
 take, as ,f, , private life, a gentleman known to be in debt 
 ndnot difpofed to clear himfelf, (hould think to cheat j 
 editors, and fupport his cred.t, by encreafing his equipage, 
 
 and bgsa?mg 
 
 ' be com P u d what it h.s cod this ration in 
 ' tor 
 
 o) w fs " s 
 
 w) what ufa they have been of ,o us either at home or 
 
 >road They give, to be lure, an air of magnificence but 
 .en Is well known, ,h at we owe alnlo(l fi ,f J^ J 
 
 , 
 but (o Jurnift out ibrfe Jtotui 
 
 In mod pa rts <rf England gentlen^ns rents are fo i 
 ' 6 ' 
 
 ho ha h c ' t 
 
 ho have nolhmg from the court can fcarce fupport iheir 
 
 Allies; and thofe in place are hardly favers on he ac 
 .unt, ,f what they g,ve be balanced againft what they re- 
 L f 7 are J ' nde J f ""= "ch people who have money 
 
 the funds; and out of tendernefs ,n ,b em I fappofe 
 . that when mtereft was naturally and apparently fallen
 
 ETTER TO 
 
 the worthy gentlemen, who, two years ago, propofed the re- 
 duaTon oi fntereft, will renew his motion ; and that it will 
 nofbe mended fo as to be made /,/, ehg.ble, and then objej 
 ed to, and /Ar OW / ^ /*< Benders I hope too care will 
 betaken, that, when the Icheme (hall have Us effecl, reduc- 
 tion of intcreft and taxes (hall go hand in hand ; and that the 
 finking fund fo encreafed (hall not be left at the d.fpofition of 
 a minifter, but applied in part to take off fome of the duties, 
 which are fuch a load on induftry,and fo dangerous to freedom. 
 Allthefe particulars, Sir, deferve your fenous attention. 
 We exped to find we have a peace, not by his majefty s fpeech 
 alone, and the congratulatory compliments of both nouiesot 
 parliament (which during all our late fuffenngs, and the hoi- 
 tilities of Spain, have been annually made with great enco- 
 miums on his meafores) but by the fruits of peace, a confider- 
 able leffening of our expences, and relief to the people a 
 vrhofe charge it was gained. 
 
 We may yet recover, low as we are, with good manage- 
 
 ment. To make a great -ft ate little, is not fo difficult indeed, 
 
 as to make a little one great ; yet it is not to be done immedi- 
 
 ately ; and with all the fkill/W have (hewn in endeavouring 
 
 it here, it will require dill more time to fink us fo, as that. 
 
 with the help of friends, we may not rife again. The na 
 
 tural ftrength of this nation is great, its refources great, aw 
 
 in one refpea greater than ever, becaufe, the funds bavin} 
 
 keen tried, and found /efficient, the borrowing on then 
 
 again, when our debt is reduced, would be fecure and eafy 
 
 To reduce it therefore ought to be the principal objea of.al 
 
 who meddle with our public affairs. We (hall judge of a! 
 
 your other virtues now by your frugality. The beft oeco 
 
 nomift for the public will be the beft member of parliament 
 
 the beft counfellor of ftate, and the beft minifler. I d 
 
 rot know how it has happened, but tor fome time paft, a 
 
 ignorant country-gentleman might be a'.moft provoked to fa} 
 
 that our flegm has (hewn itfelf only in bearing affronts, ar; 
 
 our fpirit only in fquanderin^ away the public money. 
 
 fuppofe we fhall now have no occafion to (hew our fire, bi: 
 
 \ve (hall have great occafion for a referved and cautious ten 
 
 per. Let this operate in the granting of money, in a confht 1 
 
 refufina; of new powers to the crown, and watching overlrj 
 
 ufe of thofe already granted. Above all, beware of ne^fH
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 53 
 
 ditions to the civil lift. It is a ftrange circumftance, and will 
 
 not found well to poftenty, that while the publick lofes in fo 
 
 many articles, fo many gains have been of late made to the 
 
 crown : that when every gentleman's eftate is falling in value, 
 
 the eftate of the crown mould be fo much encreafed, that if 
 
 we were to purchafe it back with fifty thoufand pounds per 
 
 ann. more than it 'was given Jor, we mould fave by the bar- 
 
 gain. I will juft take notice how great profits have accrued to 
 
 the civil lift upon the gin-bill only. All that had been gained 
 
 by the higheft amount of the duties on fpirits, that is, by the 
 
 higheft excefs of the evil defigned to be reformed, was made 
 
 up to his ma-jefty out of the aggregate fund, by way of com- 
 
 penfation for the lofs he fhould fuftain upon faving the liver 
 
 of many tboufands of bis jubjefls. At the fame time all he 
 
 might gain by the encreafe of the brewery, and by that of the 
 
 j wine licence duty, (which together cannot be lefs, and ought 
 
 to be reckoned at more than an equal proportion to the de- 
 
 creafe on the fpirits (a) is, by the bounty of this aft, preferv- 
 
 ed to him entire, and without account. So that the prevent- 
 
 t ing a national mi/chief i of fo deftru&ive a nature, that, ra- 
 
 , ther than fuffer it to continue, the legiflature was forced to 
 
 ruin many particulars, and grievoufly hurt our fugar colonies, 
 
 , has (no doubt to the comfort of the fufferers) been fo happily 
 
 . managed, that it may prove an advantage to the civil lift of 
 
 : feventy thoufand pounds a year, and probably more. I would 
 
 ! only obferve, that if our other popular vices could be turned 
 
 as much to account as the drinking of fpirits has been, the 
 
 , eftate of the king of England would be more a gainer by tbe 
 
 ,ftns of tbe people, than the exchequer of the pope. 
 
 But there is another article I muft not pafs over in filence, 
 
 becaufe it may probably come before the houfe this feffion ; 
 
 I and that is, that his majefty has been, and ftilLis, in poflef- 
 
 , fion of 5o,ooo/. per ann. which moft people think was defign- 
 
 ed by parliament for the prince of Wales, over and above the 
 
 . fifty which he now enjoys. It feems evident to me by all I 
 
 ! have heard, and read upon this fubjeS, that the parliament 
 
 which gave the civil lift could not intend, that his majefty 
 
 fhould retain for himfelf any part of this hundred thoufand 
 
 pounds a year ; fince fuppofing the prince to have // ally and 
 
 allowing his majefty to fpend one hundred thoufand pounds 3 
 
 year extraordinary in pen/iont, bounties^ fecret-fervice mo- 
 
 \ ney, &c. he will ftill have, for the fupport of his houfhold, 
 
 .- j ? 
 
 N. B. The fhare of the civil lift upon foreign fpirits is about 
 
 i upon home fpirits about -j ; upon beer and ale about 4. 
 
 
 a revenue
 
 54 A LETTER TO 
 
 a revenue equal to that of the late king. . The expence of his 
 family has been unhappily leflened, fmce the consideration of 
 this matter in parliament, by no lefs a faving than the whole 
 fumin difpute, and as for the charge which remains, it will; 
 be abundantly fupplied out of fo large an income as fix hun- 
 dred thoufand pounds a year, with the great additional pro- 
 fits arifing from the gin bill, crown land, plantation rents, 
 and other articles commonly known by the name of licks, &c. 
 So that if the prince has not the fifty thoufand pounds per an- 
 tium, which 1 apprehend he has a right to from the intention 
 of parliament out of the feven hundred and fifty thoufand en- 
 joyed by his majefty, (exclufive of the profits on the articles 
 abovementioned) if, I fay, this be not given to him, upon the 
 birth of two children, and the hopes of a third, it certainly 
 ought to be returned to the public. If his royal highnefs has 
 it, it will not indeed be loft to the public ; it is like to circu- 
 late freely, and the poor will have their mare of it ; but as I 
 am arguing now upon a principle of faving, I muft needs 
 lay, the nation wants it, and the royal family all together bat 
 enough. Let the wealth of our princes always encreafe with 
 that of their people : let them (hare the fruits of every pub- 
 lic blefiing, of every benefit derived to us from their govern* 
 ment: but to have them rich, while we are poor, is, me- 
 thinks, both an indecency, and a weakening of one ftrong 
 motive to them for governing with a conftant regard to th i 
 profperity of their fubje&s. 
 
 Sir, from what I have faid to recommend ceconomy, I 
 would not have you imagine any argument can be drawn, to i 
 defend a bad and dishonourable peace, (hould it appear that 
 fuch a one has been made with Spain. To make all proper 
 favings is the duty of our minifters but an acquiefcence un- 
 der wrongs and infults is not oeconomy : an acquiefcence that 
 may coft us millions is not oeconomy : an acquiefcence that 
 may ruin our trade, the only fource of our riches, is not 
 oeconomy : it is not oeconomy to negled an opportunity of 
 doing ourfelves juftice at a cheaper rate, than we can hope to 
 obtain it for in any future conjundure. It can never be ad- 
 mitted, that becaufe peace is cheaper than war, and becaufe 
 it is good to fave money, therefore any terms of peace are to 
 be gladly receded rather than to make war with any advan* 
 Ugeti and I (hall lefs admit it here, becaufe we have already 
 K!l! e ,^!^_ enCe : Which ' if rightly managed, might have 
 us victory, and the fruit of 
 
 Sir,
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 55 
 
 Sir, there is another way of reafoning, fimilar to this, which 
 I forefee, and which before hand I beg leave to warn you a- 
 gainft, That becaufe we ought to have great apprehenfions 
 of the growing power of France, if we go on oiufelves a;> we 
 have done of late, and fuffer them to go on to take advantage 
 of our conduct, therefore we are to fubmit to ail the injuft.ce 
 of Spain, and give up the rights we are mod concerned to fup- 
 port, for tear that France (hou'd declare agamilus in the war. 
 
 I have faid before, it feerns highly improbable, tint court 
 fhould engage in fuch a meafure, ci tbii time, from the pre- 
 fent ftate of their government, and the unfettled condition, 
 which any change might put it into for fome years to tome. 
 But fuppofing the word that it is pofllb!e to fuppo'e, iup- 
 nofing we knew that France would fide ag^intl us with Spain, 
 even in that cafe 1 think it is reafoning wrong, it is reafoning 
 with regard to the prefent day aU ne, to make that an argu- 
 ment for accepting a peace upon difadvantageous ai^d difho- 
 nourable terms. For if we are really lalien into fuch a ftate, 
 that v\hen any power in Europe fhall think fit to infult and 
 njure us, and we take up arms to defend ourfelves, France will 
 nterpofe, and without any regard to her alliance, and the juf- 
 fHce of our caufe, infijl n our giving up our rights, or elle 
 ieclare herfelf our enemy ; if this is our fituation, it is an ex- 
 remitjr, which we muft fight curfches out of a< ivell, and 
 !t foon as we can. For what can we expect by delaying it 
 or.ger, but to draw on farther infults, farther wrongs, farther 
 :omempt ; to be treated on all cccafions as a province to 
 "ranee: to be daily weakened more and more by the in- 
 roachments of all our neighbours upon every branch of cur 
 rade ; and to be at laft devoured without the means of re- 
 illance, when all our friends are ajbamed of us, and when a 
 ongftate of dependency (hall have lunk our courage, and pre- 
 >ared our minds, to endure the infamy of a foreign yoke? 
 3ut we have the ftrongefl grounds to think that our affairs 
 re not fo defperate. France is no party concerned in this 
 lifpute with Spain ; and the prefent genius of that court is, 
 lot to engage without necefTity, in any quarrel that muft ccft 
 icr a war. She may perhaps defire to mediate, and to me- 
 liate partially ; but it is in the power of England to refufe 
 'hat mediation : (he may fpeak in an unfriendly, or perhaps 
 .n angry ftyle; but we have profiled little by a great deal of 
 xperlence, if we have not learnt, that there is a vride dif- 
 ance bet-ween talking angrily^ and declaring war. Ir feems 
 ivident upon the.whole, that what we ought to apprehend, 
 s not an immediate, but a future danger from France j and 
 E 4 the
 
 5 6 A LETTER TO 
 
 the care of the legiflature (hould extend to that, not by ap \ 
 proving a peace, which may deferve to be cenfured, but by ; 
 attending to things, which, either in war or peace, are of ' 
 extreme importance to the ftrength of the kingdom, and 
 therefore demand particularly the mfpedion of parliament. 
 
 Such is the (late of our manu/aflures, fuch is that of ouf 
 colonies ; both fhould be enquired into, that the nation may 
 know, whether the jormer can fupport themfelvesmuch long- ; 
 er under the various preiTures that affet our manufacturers j 
 and how is it poflible that the latter fhould decline, when if 
 it had not been/or a falje report of bis death, Sir O i - -O 
 33. n might have governed one of them ; and lo many 
 
 gentlemen of no left fortune and cbarafler have been fre- 
 quently fent to take care of the rejl ? 
 
 The ftate of our garrifons abroad too may deferve to be 
 confidered, and whether the abfolute power, lodged in fome 
 of our governors there, has been difcreftly t moderately, and 
 humanely exercifed, to the honour of his rmjefty's commif- 
 fion, and of the Englifh name. 
 
 Sir, what I would farther fubmit to your attention is, whe^ 
 ther fome new powers have not been afiumed by the crown> 
 or old ones Jiretcbt beyond their legal bounds, by the con- 
 ftru&ion of minifters, and the acquiefcence, or perhaps the 
 authority of the judges themfelves. This is mod likely to 
 happen with regard to criminal profecutions, and many in- 
 ftances of it have been complained of formerly, and fallen 
 under the notice and the cenfureof parliament. 
 
 No longer ago than laft year there was a loud complaint of 
 a power aiTumed and exercifed by the fecrelaries of ftate a-; 
 gainft all law, and particularly againft that mojl facrcd law 
 the habeas corpus at ; I mean the demanding fecurity for; 
 their good behaviour, from perfons examined before them on 
 fufpicion of writing, printing, or publifhing libels againft the 
 government. 
 
 This having been exercifed for the mod part upon low and 
 Inconfiderable people, who had neither fpirit nor fircngth 
 enough to fupport their right, it had pafled unqueftioned ma- 
 ny years together, till Mr. Franklin was advifed not to com- 
 ply with that demand, but to infill on giving bail for his ap- 
 pearance only. Upon this the matter was brought by ha- 
 beas corpus before my lord chief juftice Raymond, who de- 
 cided it in his favour, for he admitted him to bail without 
 fecunty for his good behaviour. Notwithftanding whichj; 
 the lame prance continued in the fecretary's office, anyf 
 and pafled /* f,hntio> till laft year Mr. Amhurft brought It 
 into publick difcourfe. Though
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 57 
 Though the circumftancesof this fa& are pretty well known, 
 yet, as they are of a weighty and a grievous nature, I will re- 
 mind you of them by a fhort recital of all fuch particulars as 
 are come to my knowledge. Some time after Chriftmas i 737, 
 Mr. Amhurft, hearing that a warrant from the Duke of 
 Newcaftle was out againft him, furrendered himfelf to a mef- 
 I fenger, and was carried before his grace to be examined. The 
 crime imputed to him was, that be was fufpefled to be author 
 H of a paper fufpeffed to be a libel. As no proofs were alledged 
 ;; againft him, no witnefles produced, an examination of this 
 :; kind could not laft long. As foon as it was over, he was told, 
 I that the crime being bailable, he fhould be bailed upon find- 
 j ing fufficient fureties to anfwer for his appearance, and trial ; 
 and gave bail for his appearance, but the other terms impof- 
 .j ed upon him he abfolutely refufed. Upon that refufal he 
 1 was remanded back to cuftody, and the next day brought his 
 habeas corpus, and was then fet at liberty by confent, till 
 |j the twelve judges mould determine the queftion, whether he 
 t was obliged to give bail for his good behaviour, as well as for 
 !j his appearance, before he was entitled to his liberty. 
 
 As this determination would have been the moft important 
 . to the liberty of every man in England, that perhaps the 
 ; judges ever gave, it was impatiently expeded, and defired by 
 , the public. Several days were fixed for hearing counfel on 
 both fides; but they were never heard, and the queftion re- 
 ; mains ftill undetermined. 
 
 A queftion of no lefs confequence, than whether igno- 
 I miny and puniftiment (for fucb the being bound to good be- 
 haviour is by the law fiippofed to be) (hall be inflided on a 
 , freeman before any trial, and 'without hii being charged upon 
 i tatb, even of fufpicion of guilt : a queftion of no lefs confe- 
 ( quence, than whether any man in the kingdom, whom the 
 ( court are pleafed to fufpt- a of writing a libel, (hall, by fre- 
 quent, fuccefllve commitments upon other fufpicions," with 
 j no proof at all, be either conftantly imprifoned, from not 
 being able to find fecurity for his good behaviour, fo often as 
 it is afked, which may be every week ; or be expofed to for- 
 j feit many bails at once, to the value poffibly of ten thoufand 
 pounds (a), for a fingle breach of the peace, which in ano- 
 ther circumftance, he could not be fined ten millings for, 
 by any court in England. 
 
 (a] N. B. While a rmn is bound to his good behaviour, if he 
 ihould chance to commit any common aft of natural frailty or 
 paffion, get drunk, for inftance, or return a blow, he would be 
 ;; Jiable to forfeit his fecurities. 
 
 A
 
 5 8 A LETTER TO 
 
 A queftion of no lefs confequence, than whether the ha- 
 beas corpus ad fhall be the rule of proceedings in all cafes 
 bailable; or whether it fhall be in the power or" every juftice 
 of peace to add new terms to it, and make new exceptions to 
 the advantages given by that ad to the fubjecl ; that is, whe- 
 ther they fhou:d do what all the judges in England would de- 
 fervetobe impeached for if they did, and what the parlia- 
 ment itfelf ought no more to do, than to repeal, or alter 
 MAGNA CHARTA. 
 
 A queftion of no lefs confequence, than whether we mould 
 lofe the entire benefit of the liberty of the prefs, which fe- 
 cures and ftrengthens all our other liberties : fince, upon fuf* 
 picion only of a book or paper being libellous, any man fuf- 
 ipecled to be concerned in it, may be put under the load of 
 finding fecurity for his good behaviour, which is fuch a vex- 
 ation, and fuch a diftrefs, that it is commonly part, and a 
 heavy part, of the fentence upon cmvifled criminals, in all 
 but capital caufes : fince this is in the power of every juftice 
 of peace (a) ; and fince, by confequence, no man can be fafe 
 who publifhes a book, how innocent foever it may be, with- 
 out as many licencers> as there are MiJdlefex jujlices. 
 
 Why this queftion was not decided at that time, why it 
 remains ftill undetermined, I cannot tell. If there is no in- 
 tention to revive the practice which occafioned the difpute, 
 I am furprized and forry, that the terror of it is fuffered to 
 hang over us rttll, and that the opinion of all mankind com- 
 cerning it has not yet received the fan&ion of a judicial deter- 
 mination, or the declaration of parliament. 
 
 From my good opinion of the prefcnt judges, I hope and 
 believe, that if they decide it, we have nothing to fear. They 
 know the danger, and deleft the iniquity, of adding reftric- 
 tions of their own Jo laws declaratory of liberty. They know 
 that parliaments have often refented fuch proceedings ; that 
 they have been productive of the greateft mifchiefs, the 
 greateft diforders, and convulfions in the ftate : that the ar- 
 bitrary interpretation of our laws in Wtftminfter-hall has 
 been more than once the caufe of civil war, the diflblution of 
 our government, and the deftruaion of our kings. They 
 will therefore decide, not as former judges have done, who 
 held their places at the mercy of the crown, but as men, who 
 defrrvethe places, which, without a crime, they cannot lofe. 
 
 Yet if this decifion fhould be linger delayed, it will be 
 highly proper, that the fenfe of parliament be taken upon it^ 
 
 (a) The law knows of no power in a fecretary of ftate, in this 
 rdpecl, which is not equally lodged in every juftice of peace. 
 
 and
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 59 
 
 and that we mould know to what we may truft For fo 
 long as this is ln doubt, fo long the nobleir privileges, that 
 Englifhrnen enjoy beyond all other rations, are left m un- 
 certainty, and may be thought in danger. 
 
 And if the confideration or this mail come before the leei- 
 flature they wdl be naturally led at the fame rime to col 
 iider, if there are not grievous inconveniences that attend the 
 jna lot criminal caufes by fpec.al June; ; and whether moft 
 rt the provifions made by the ad of 3 George II. mould not 
 * extended /. then. By the feveral regulations in that aft 
 or the return and ballott.ng of common juries in civil caufes, 
 he property tried m fmall adions is pretty ftrongly guarded' 
 >ut it very exrraord.nary, that no" prov.f.on o/faTkmd 
 ias been made, where th c quertion to be tried is of the high- 
 :ft confluence. It is very well known, that even in civil 
 aufes, few above the value of an hundred pounds are tried 
 nthout a fpeoal jury, to which this ad does not extend 
 
 Now I can lee no reafon for thefe regulations with regard 
 o the property tried by common juries, which does not hold 
 ouch ftronger for extending the care of parliament to the 
 egulatmg fpec.al juries aifo. The fmall value of the caufes 
 ned ^ the former makes it highly improbable, that either of 
 ne part.es mould attempt to influence the fheriffto make a 
 artul return, Hnce the gain would no way equal the hazard 
 -he fame reafon too will prevent an interefted juryman, fup. 
 ofmg fuchaone was returned, from giving a verdidco 
 ary to evidence, and perjuring himfelf in ?he figt of h "s" 
 Junlry, for fo tnconfiderable an advantage to the Par tv he 
 -ours And that crimes will be more or & frequen't ^pro! 
 artion to the temptation to commit them, muft be allowed 
 
 .wer ofthe ' !! ^ * Dangerous, becaufe the 
 
 3wer of the crown may be exerted in the profecution, and 
 
 arem 11 * If K '^ ^Pnfonment and punifhment 
 itv fl^J. lMhem f erof <he crown-office, or his de- 
 dve of L De d e f er r d r a "/ influence hem ^ W name 
 tS < efe " dants fnends to cover his purpofe, and 
 
 of nam ** m U P 
 
 t party or other caufes, if he can find fo many in 
 
 ' T H 3 V 3 llClt r f r the Cr Wn W0uld Irikeoff 
 , the defendant muft be tried from a jury among 
 
 the
 
 60 A LETTER TO 
 
 the latter. It is true that officer is/zvorw, but fo is the fhe- 
 riff in returning common juries, and it is juft as likely that 
 the one ftiould name partially, as the other return partially. - 
 
 But there feems la be lefs reafon for allowing of fptcial 
 juries to be ftruck by the matter of the crown-office, or by 
 any other officer, upon informations, or indictments for 
 crimes committed in London or Weftminfter (which is the 
 cafe of moil of the crown profecutions upon libels, &rc. for 
 very few arife in any other county) becaufe the fheriffs of 
 London and Middlefex, being annual and elective officers, are 
 lefs liable to fufpicion of influence, and, by confequence, the 
 moft impartial officers between the crown and the fubjea. 
 
 The ufual argument in fupport of fpecial juries is, that it 
 is fometimes neceffary for a caufe to be confidered by ptrfons 
 of a higher rank and better education than common free- 
 holders, and that they are never ufed in a capital cafe. 
 
 As to the firff, admitting the reafoning to be right, why 
 may not fpecial juries be balloted for out of a number of free- 
 holders pojfcft of ejlates to fucb a value, and the lifts be made 
 in the fame manner as is direded by the jury-ad with regard 
 to common juries ? 
 
 And as to the fecond part of the argument, that fpecial ju- 
 ries are not ufed in capital cafes, that, at befr, is but to fay, 
 that the practice is not a bad one, becaufe ;/ might be worfe \ 
 and that, becaufe the life of the fubjea is fafe, therefore hii 
 liberty is not worth confideration. Sir, I think it is evident., 
 this practice is fuch as requires a new law, no lefs than th< 
 abuies and corruptions, recited in the preamble to the jury- 
 ad, required the regulations thereby made for fpecial juries 
 nay, that without they are extended to common juries, tha 
 law is of lefs utility, than the parliament, which made it 
 hoped and defigned. It was certainly well-intended, and 
 prefume the prefent parliament, when they fee the defects o 
 it, will not have lefs zeal for the principle it goes upon, thai 
 their predeceffors. 
 
 But when this method of trial mall be better regulated, 
 hope it will be alfo confidered by the legiflature, whether i 
 be not advifable to take another "quite away, I mean inform 
 tions in the king's bench for criminal caufes : 
 
 Becaufe, by this method, the fubjea lofes one great bene 
 fit he is by law entitled to, that of a grand jury: 
 m Becaufe, though in cafes between fubjea and fubjea, i 
 is in the power of the court to refufe an information, if th 
 defendant mew caufe ; yet in crown-profecutions, of whic 
 the legiflature ought to be moft jealous, the attorney- genera 
 
 b
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 61 
 by his own authority, files an information, which the court 
 cannot refufe : 
 
 Becaufe, though it comes out to be ever fo groundlefs a 
 charge, the crown pays no cofts, and the defendant may be 
 undone by the expence : 
 
 Becaufe the ad retraining fubje&s from this method of 
 profecution, with regard to each other, without leave of the 
 court after hearing both fides, and fome farther cautions, is a 
 ftrong proof that the parliament thought it a dangerous and 
 opprefTive courfe, which they ought to difcourage: but be- 
 tween fubjeQs and the crown the danger furely is much great- 
 er, there being more room for oppreflion, and the penalties 
 on conviction more fevere : 
 
 Becaufe there is reafon to think, that when the ftar-cham- 
 ber was abolifhed, the parliament meant to condemn the me- 
 thods of trial ufed in that court, and did not imagine they 
 would rife again in the king's bench, upon pretence, that they 
 ' had been antiently, though -very rarely pratifed there; and 
 i that all the powers the ftar-chamber claimed from common 
 i law did, by the abolition of that court, devolve on the king's 
 ! bench : 
 
 Becaufe, in all cafes purely criminal, the crown has ano- 
 : ther way of proceeding equally eafy to the king, and much 
 I more fafe to the fubjeft, y/'z. the method of indiflment: and 
 ' becaufe the retaining that, which may be made oppreflive, 
 ! when there is no occafion for it, is no honour to the crown, 
 ! and no advantage but againft the innocent. 
 
 In anlwer to all this it will, I know, be faid, that this is an 
 ! antient power vefted by law in the crown; that it is invading 
 i the prerogative to attempt to take it away; and that we 
 
 ought to preferve the conftitution unchanged. To which I 
 i reply, that the antiquity of this power is no defence of it, if 
 i it be unfit to remain, fince others as antient have been 
 
 taken away : that the prerogative of the king is no more fa- 
 I cred than the liberty of the fubjeQ: that this has been abridg- 
 1 ed in feveral inftances of late, particularly the riot act, on a 
 ! fuppofition, that the reftraint was neceflary for the publick 
 
 good ; and the fame reafoning will hold with regard to a 
 i power in the crown, the exercife of which is fuppofed to be 
 
 dangerous to the publick. 
 
 As to the expediency and duty of preferving the conftitu- 
 j tion unchanged, it is no doubt in general a right maxim. But 
 ' does not every new power given to the crown change the con- 
 
 ftituuon, as much as an old power taken away ? 
 
 In
 
 <5 2 A LETTER TO 
 
 In the balance of our government is the fcale of the crown 
 to be always////*?, and that of the people always emptying? 
 
 Is there no danger to the ftate, but from the abufe of liber- 
 ty, which is daily the argument for coercive laws, enforced 
 with heavy penalties, and unknown to our anceftors? May 
 there not alfo be danger/row the abufe of prerogative, efpecially 
 in profecutions carried on by the crown, where paflion may 
 mix itfelf, and where influence may prevail ? And is it not a* 
 worthy of a parliament to provide a remedy againft one of 
 thefe dangers, as againft the other ? 
 
 We are told by a great man, by my lord Bacon, in his 
 Life of Henry VII. that when that prince had drawn great 
 fums of money by taxes, and other impofitions from his peo- 
 ple, he ufed to remunerate them by good and wholfome laws, 
 beneficial to liberty, and of a popular nature, which, as his 
 lordfhip obferves, wer* evermore bis retribution for treafure. 
 And the beft retribution it was that could be made, the moft 
 effectual for relief, and the molt capable of flopping com- 
 plaints and healing difcontents. This honour indeed did not 
 belong to him alone ; part of it ought to be imputed to his 
 parliaments ; though parliaments in thofe days were not fo 
 independent as, I hope, they are now, but were a good deal 
 influenced by the power of the crown and the will of the 
 king in directing their proceedings. But they boih together 
 had this merit to the nation, that what they took in fubfidies, 
 they paid again in laws. 
 
 It is the misfortune, (I would not fay the fault) of the pre- 
 fent times, to have laid moft heavy burdens, fuch as were 
 even unknown to the days of Henry the Seventh, with unin- 
 termitting feverity, on the people of thefe kingdoms. In this 
 parliaments and kings have long concurred, not without great 
 difcontent on the fide of thofe at whofe ex pence it was done, 
 and who have not always been fo much convinced of the ne~ 
 ceffity. But as for retribution, except that retribution which 
 confifts in falaries and penfans paid by the crown, to the 
 happy few, who are the objtts of its favour, I am afraid 
 little of this will be found to have been given, in the fenfe the 
 word is ufed by my lord Bacon, to make the people amends 
 for the hardfhips they fuftain. New penal laws and newr 
 powers to the crown have for thefe twenty years part been 
 almoft the only prefents made by the legiflature to us and our 
 pofteriry, in return for above one hundred millions raifed upon 
 the publick, in all the various fhapes from the land tax down 
 to turnpikes. 
 
 But
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 63 
 
 But it is full time to think of other retributions : the nation 
 requires it from your hands, requires you to ftrengthen, to 
 enlarge the bafis upon which their rights are fixed, and if 
 there are any rotten parts in that great fabrick, to take them 
 away, left they endanger the whole. Mueh of this was done 
 at the renovation of our government by the late happy Revo- 
 lution, but not all. Some defe6ts were left through inatten- 
 tion or other caufes, which it may be the glory of his ma- 
 jefty's reign and of this parliament by their united wifdom and 
 goodnefs to remove. This will conciliate to both the affec- 
 tions of the people, and do more, much more, towards fecur- 
 ing the government, than an army could of an hundred tbou- 
 [and men. We hear much of difaffeclion; this would cruih 
 lit at once: it would unite the friends of the efrablimment, 
 and confound its enemies ; it would (hew the caufe we fir - 
 port to be tbi caufe of liberty. 
 
 Sir, I have now laid before you, with great plainnefs and 
 finceriry, what I believe the nation aflcs of its reprefentatives. 
 I am one unpra&ifed in writing, and that underftand no 
 rhetorick, but what owes its prevalence to the fingle force of 
 truth : and leaft of all do I underftand the method of arguing, 
 which want of genius in writers, and meannefs of fpirit in 
 :heir pay-mafters, have made fo common in political difputes, 
 attacking private characters, and turning a national queftion 
 >nto perfonal altercations and abufive lies. I am fo much on- 
 i;nown, that I believe myfelf very fecure from th ; s fort of an- 
 fwer being made me on account of this letter. If any other 
 uffers in my ftend (as thefe hired affafftns are apt to miftake 
 heir objecVm the dark) I (hall recommend to him, what I 
 Vould pra^ife myfelf in that cafe, ftlence and conttmpt. As 
 ,o the fats and reafonings laid down here, if they are con- 
 (ffoyerted, I am ready to fupport them againft any attack 
 /hich comes from a better hand than ordinary, and has com- 
 ,-ion fenfe in it. I am quite a ftranger to the perfons of our 
 ainifters, I know them only by the effeas of their condud, 
 Ind neither they nor their fucceffors can pleafe or offend me, 
 at as my country gains or fuffers by their power. And I 
 ity thofe, if there are any fuch, who think the removing an 
 I minifter is a point of confequence, if with him the maxims 
 nd tb? meafures of his government, how ftrongly foever 
 ftabliihed, are not Mo expelled. 
 
 I fhall only add to what I have faid, that, unlefs fomething 
 ? done by this parliament, to give new vigour to our liber- 
 es, flop the torrent of corruption, and revive the principles, 
 id the fpirit of our fathers, we have lefs to hope, than to 
 
 apprehep,d
 
 64 ALETTERTO 
 
 apprehend from tbofe to come. The time, I doubt, is not faf 
 off, when by the encreafe of influence, there may be fuch 
 difficulties upon country gentlemen to oppofe the court in 
 ele&ions, and fuch a defpondency, fuch a difpiritednefs on 
 the minds of all, except the favourites of power, that no 
 ftruggle could be expected, no oppofition at all to the nomi- 
 nation of the crown. A kind of conge (Felire might be fent 
 down into the country, and directed to our trujty and well' 
 beloved officers of the cujloms, excife, and army, in all the 
 towns and boroughs of England, Scotland, Wales, and the 
 dutchy of Cornwall. Suitable returns would be made : but. 
 Sir, this would not be a parliament. 
 
 May that Providence, which has faved us fo often, when 
 we could not, or would not fave ourfelves, preferve us now j 
 may his mujt&y's gracious difpofttions operate in our favour^ 
 and remove the clouds that have been fpread fo thick about 
 him, to prevent his feeing both our intereft, and bis own I 
 
 May an alteration of meafures be the aim, the effect, and 
 the reward of oppofition ! may the public good be the obje<9:> 
 the bound, and the fecurity of power! may the royal Jamily, 
 may all parlies, may the nation unite in affecYion, and be 
 divided no more ! may all who obftrut this union for vilf| 
 ends of their own, be the vi films of it, and fuffer what they' 
 deferve! may all who defire it, underjland, ajjljl, and 
 Jirengtben one another I 
 
 I am, Sir, cVc. 
 
 For the proof of what is advanced in the firfl part of thi*j 
 Letter, it may not be improper to recite fome articles of 
 our treaties with Spain and France, that regard America. 
 
 I mo . 
 
 The TREATY of 1667 between ENGLAND and SPAIN 
 ART. VIII. 
 
 And for what may concern both the Indies, and an- 
 other parts whatfoever, the King of Spain doth grant to th' 
 King; of Great Britain and his fuhjeds, all lhat is granted t 
 the United States of the Low Countries and their fubjecls, i 
 their treaty of Munfter 1648, point for point, in as lull an 
 ample a manner as if the fame were herein particularly in 
 lerted, the fame rules being to be obferved \vhereunto th 
 
 fubjea
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT 6. 
 
 fubjeas of the faid United States are obliged, and mutual 
 t friend fhip to be performed from one fide to the 
 
 The articles referred to are, 
 A R T. V. 
 
 La navigation et trafique des Indes Orientales et Occiden- 
 tales fera mamtenue felon et en conformite des oaroys fur ce 
 donnes, ou a donner ci-apres ; pour feurete de quoy fervira le 
 prefent tra.teet la ratification d'iceluy, qui de part et d'autre 
 en lera procuree : et feront compris fous le dit traite tous po- 
 tentats, nations et peuples, avec lefquels lefdits Seigneurs 
 Eflats ,ou ceux de la fociete des Indes Orientales et Oc- 
 Cidentales en leur nom, entre les limites de leurfdits oaroys 
 font en amitie et alliance ; et un chacun, fcavoir les 
 fufdits Seigneurs Roy et Eftats refpeaivement ' demeure- 
 iront en pofleffior i et jouiront de idles feigneurs, villcs. 
 chafteaux, fortcreflcs, commerce et pays es Indes Orien- 
 
 a A>?f C lde A n r tales ' comme au <fi Brafil et fur les 
 :oftes d Afie, Afrique, et Amerique refpeaivement, que 
 kefdits Seigneurs Roy et Eftats refpeaivement tiennent et 
 ?oliedent, en ce compris fpecialement les lieux et places 
 que les Portugais depuis 1'an mil fix cent quarante et un 
 Mil pns et occupe fur lefdits Seigneurs Eftats ; compris 
 mffi les heux et places qu'iceux Seigneurs Eftats cy- 
 ipres, fans mfraaion du prefent traia6, viendront a con- 
 juerir et poflTeder ; et les direaeurs de la fociete des Indes 
 ant Orientales que Occidentales des Provinces-Unies, comme 
 ufli les miniftres, officiera hauts & bas, foldats et matelots, 
 ftans en ferv.ce aauel de 1'une ou de Pautre defdites com- 
 .lagnies, ou ayans efte en leur fervice, comme auffi ceux qui 
 
 Ir'ft H U ffl> H e ref P eQivement > tant *" ce pays, q'uau di- 
 tr.a defdites deux compagnies, contingent encore, ou pour- 
 ont cy-apres eftre employes, feront et demeureront libres et 
 ins eftre moleftez en tous les pays eftans fous 1'obeYfTance 
 udit Se.gneur Roy en PEurope, pourront voyager, trafiquer 
 t frequenter, comme tous autres habitants des pays defdits 
 -eigneurs Eftats. En ouftre a efte cond.tionne et ftipule, 
 ue ; les Efpagnols retiendront leur navigation en telle maniere 
 u its la tiennent pour le prefent es Indes Orientales, fans fe 
 
 ter e ^ rc , p av / n , t> comme au{Ii les habitans de 
 
 *ys .-Bas s abftiendront de la frequentation des places que les 
 .aftillans ont es Indes Orientales. 
 
 ART.
 
 66 ALETTERTO 
 
 ART. VI. 
 
 Et quant aux Indes Occidentals, le fujets et nabitars des 
 royaumes, provinces et terres defdits Seigneurs Roy et Eftat, 
 refpeaivement s'abftiendront de navjger et trafiquer en tons 
 les havres, lieux et places garnies de forts, loges, ou cha- 
 fteaux, et toutes autres pofledees par 1'une ou 1'autre partie; 
 fcavoir que les fujets dudit Seigneur Roy ne navigeront et 
 trafiqueront en Celles tenues par lefdits Seigneurs Eftats, ny 
 les fujets defdits Seigneurs Eftats en celles tenues par ledit 
 Seigneur Roy, et entre les places tenues par lefdits Seigneurs 
 Eftats feront comprifes les places que les Portugais, depuis 
 Tan mil fix cent quarante et un ont occupe dans le Brafil fur 
 lefdits Seigneurs Eftats, comme aufli toutes autres places qu'iU 
 poffedent a prefent tandis qu'elles demeureront auxdits Portu- 
 gais ; fans que le precedent article puifTe deroger au contentu 
 du prefent. 
 
 lido. 
 
 The Treaty of 1670 between ENGLAND and SPAIN, com- 
 monly called the American Treaty (a). 
 
 ART. III. 
 
 Item uti in futurumomnes inimicitiae, hoftilitates et difcor- 
 diae inter prsedi&os Dominos Reges, eorumque fubditos, et 
 incolas ceffent, et aboleantur : et utraque pars ab omni di- 
 reptione, deprasdatione, laefione, injuiiifque ac iofeflatione 
 qualicunque tam terra quam mari, et aquis dulcibus ubivis 
 gentium temperet prorfus, et abftineat. 
 
 A R T. VII. 
 
 Conventnm prgsterea eft quod ferenifTimus Magnae Bri- 
 tannias Rex, heredes et fucceffores ejus cum plenano jure 
 fummi imperii, proprietatis et poflefllonis, terras omnes, re- 
 giones, infulas, colonias ac dominia in Occidental! India aut 
 quavis parte Americae fita habebunt, tcnebunt et poftldthunt 
 in perpetuum, quascunque diclus Magnae Britannis2 Rex, 
 et fubditi ejus imprsefemiarum tenent, ac poiTulent, ita ut eo 
 nomine, aut quacunque fub pr83tenfione ni!nl unquam am- 
 plius urgeri, rihiique controverfiarum in poflcrura moveri 
 poffit, aut debeat. 
 
 A R T. VIII. 
 
 Subditi, et incolae, mercatores, navarch?e, naucleri, naut; 
 regnorum, provinciarum, terrarumque utriufque Regis re- 
 
 * This treaty confirms by its firft article that of 1667, and both 
 are particularly confirmed by the treaty of Utrecht.
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 67 
 fpeaive x abftinebunt, cavebuntque fibi a commerciis, et na- 
 vigatione in portus, ac loca fortalitiis, ftabulis mercimonio- 
 um, vel cauelhs inftruda, aliaque omnia qua ab una, vel 
 ib altera parte occupantur in Occidental! India : nimirum 
 ; *egis Magn* Britanniae fubditi negotiationem non dirigent, 
 j avigationem non inftituent, mercaturam non facient in por- 
 fjbus, locifvd, quae rex catholicus in d.da India tenet ; ne- 
 |. ue ffciffin, Reg.s Hifpaniarum fubditi in ea- loca navigationes 
 nlt.tuent, aut commercia exercebunt, qua ibidem a Reee 
 lagnae Britanniae poflidentur. 
 
 ART. IX. 
 
 ; Si verd traau temporis vifum fuerit alterutri Repum H- 
 ntiam aliquam generalem, vel fpecialem, aut privileeia 
 fencedere aherms fubditis navigationem inft.tuendi, et com- 
 jercium habendi m quibufvis locis fuse ditionis, qui didas 
 Nnt.as, et pnvilegia conceflerit, dida navigatio, et com- 
 fcrctum exercebuntur et manu tenebuntur juxta et fecundum 
 Irmam, tenorem, et affeaum permiffionum, aut privileei. 
 *m, quae .ndulgeri poterint, quorum fecuritati praefen* 
 tlitatus, ejuidemque ratihabitio inferviet. 
 
 ART. X. 
 
 i tem concordatum eft, quod fi alterutrius confoederatorum 
 i;d.ti, et mcolae cum navibus fuis, five bellies ; five one- 
 ;* ac pnvatae, procelhs abrepti fuerint, vel perfequentibus 
 H,t,s inim.cis ac hoftibus, aut alio quovis incommode co- 
 kur fe ad portum quaerendum in alterius fcederati flumina, 
 H--5, asftuana, ac ftationes rec.pere, vel ad l.ttora quaecunque 
 D menca appellere, ben.gne, omnique humanitate ibidem 
 spiantur, arnica gaudeant protedione & benevclentia 
 wrentur. . Nullo autem modo impediantur, quo minus in- 
 Jgim ommno habeant reficere fe, vidualia etiam & omne 
 Js commeatum, five viiae fuftinendae, five navibus repa- 
 ^s, & umeri faciendo necefTarium, aequo & confueto 
 fccomptrarc. Nulla quoque ratione prohibeantur ex 
 HJ, etftationeviciffim folvere, ac egredi, quin ip fis l ici ! 
 ^it, pro |,b.to m.grare loco, libereque difcedere qnando- 
 
 ART. XT. 
 
 Ti ratione fi naves alterutrius confcederati, ejufdemque 
 corum, ac incolarura ad oras, aut in ditionibiis . quibuf- 
 ealter.us impcgermt, jadum facerint, vel (quod Deus 
 
 nau ragmm, aui damnum quodcuaque pafTae fuerint 
 
 m aut detnmenta pafTos, in vincula, aut fervitutem ab! 
 
 F 2 dtcerc
 
 68 A LETTER TO 
 
 ducere nefas efto, quin periclitantibus, aut naufragis benevold, 
 t alefubv q en,at P ur, atque auxHmm feratur, luerxque 
 Ss falvi conduaus exhibeantur, qu.bus ,nde tuio, & abfque 
 moleftia exire, & ad fuam quifque patnara red.re valeat. 
 
 ART. XII. 
 
 Ouando autem alterutrius naves (uti fupradiaum eft) marls 
 periTuIo aliave cogente ratione compulfe, in altenus portus 
 SSn^.fitres^quatuorvefuerim, juftamque futpiciom. 
 occafionem pr^bere poterint adventus .ftiufmodi caula, gu- 
 Te tori, v'l primio loci magl ftratui (la.tm exponetur, 
 rec diutius ibi mora trahetur, quam quse illis a d,ao gube - 
 natore aut prsefeao permiffa, & vidui comparando, navi- 
 bufqTe tum P refarciendis, turn inftruend.s commoda, atqu< 
 squa fuerit, cautum vero Temper erit, ut onus non diOrahant 
 reque mercium aut farcinarum aliqu.d e navibus efferant, & 
 velmexponant, nee etiam mercimonia ab altera parte it 
 Naves receperint, aut quicquam egennt contra hoc fadus. 
 
 ART. XV. 
 
 Prsfens traaatus nihil derogabit praeeminentiae, juri a 
 dominio cuicunque alterutrius confcjederatorum in maribi 
 Americans, freti-, atque aquis quibufcunque, fed habear 
 retineantque fibi eadem pari amphtudme, quae illis jure con 
 petit intelleaum autem Temper efto libertatem navigan. 
 neutiquam interrumpi debere, modo nihil adverfus genumui 
 horum ariiculorum ienfum committatur, vel peccetur. 
 
 111. 
 
 The Treaty of 1686, between ENGLAND and FRANCE 
 ART. V. 
 
 Et que pour cet effet les fujets et habitans, marcham 
 
 capitaints de vaiffeaux, pilotes et matelots de royaumes, pr 
 
 vinces et terres de chacun defdits Roys refpeaivement, 
 
 feront ancun commerce ni pefche dans tous les lieux dont 1' 
 
 eft, ou 1'on fera en pofleffion de part et d'autre dans 1'An 
 
 rique. C'eft a fcavoir, que les fujets de fa Majefte trcs Ch' 
 
 tienne ne fe mefltront d'aucun trafic, ne feront aucun CO' 
 
 mcrce, et ne pefcheront point dans les ports, rivieres, bay; 
 
 embouchures de rivieres, rades, codes, ou autres lieux > 
 
 font ou feront ci-apres poffedex par fa Majefte Britannique 1 
 
 Amerique : et reciproquement les fujets dc la Majefte Brif 
 
 rique n<: fe mefleront d'aucun trafic, re feront aucun cc 
 
 merce, tt ne pefcheiont point dans les ports, rivieres, b; 
 
 enib ouch ^
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 69 
 
 embouchures de rivieres, rades, coft.es ou autres lieux qui 
 font ou feront ci-apres pofledez par fa Majcfte tres Chretienne 
 en Amerique. tt au cas qu'aucun vaiifeau, ou barque foit 
 furpris taifant trafic, ou pefchant, centre ce qui eft porte par 
 le prefent traite, ledl vaifleau, ou barque avec fa charge, 
 fera confifque, apres que la preuve de la contravention aura 
 efte legitimement faite. II fera neanmoins permis a ia panic 
 qui fe fentira gravee par la fentence de confifcation, de fe 
 pourvoir au confeil d'eftat du roy, dont les gouverneurs ou 
 juges auront rendu ladite fentence de confifcation, et d'y por- 
 ter fa plainte, fans que pour cela 1'execution de la fentence 
 foit empefchee : bien entendu neanmoins que la liberte de la 
 navigation ne doit eftre nullement empefchee, pourveu qu'il 
 ne commette rien centre le veritable fensdu prefent traite. 
 
 ART. VI. 
 
 De plus, 11 a efle accorde, que fi les fujets et habitans de 
 1'un ou de 1'autre defdits Roys, et leurs vaiflfeaux, foit de 
 guerre et publics, foit marchands et particuliers, font empor- 
 tez par les tempeftes, ou eftant pourfuivis par les pirates ou 
 .par les ennemis, ou preflez par quelque autre ncceffite, font 
 contraints pour fe mettre en feurete, de fe retirer dans les 
 ports, rivieres, bayes, embouchures de rivieres, rades et coftes 
 iquelconques appertenantes a 1'autre Roy dans PAmerique, ils 
 ; y feront bien et amblement re9us, protegez et favorablement 
 Uraitez : qu'ils pourront, fans qu'on les empeche en quelque 
 maniere que ce foit, s'y rafraichir, et meme acheter au prix 
 ordinaire et raifonable, des vivres, et toutes fortes de provifi- 
 ons neceflaires, ou pour la vie, ou pour radouber les vaifleaux, 
 et pour continuer leur route : qu'on ne les empechera non 
 plus en aucune maniere de fortir des ports et rades, maisqu'il 
 leur fera permis de partir, et s'en aller en toute liberte quand 
 I et ou il leur plairra, fans etre moleftez ou empechez : qu'on 
 ine les obligera point a fe defare de leur cbarge, ou adecharger 
 ; et expofer en vente leurs marchandifes, ou balots : qu'aufli de 
 leur part ils ne recevront dans leurs vaifleaux aucunes mar- 
 (chandifes, et ne feront point de pefche, fous peine de confif- 
 . cation defdits vaifleaux et marchandifes, conformement a ce 
 qui a efte convenu dans Particle precedent. De plus a efte 
 i accorde, que toutes et quantes fois que les fujets de Pun ou 
 i de Pautre defdits roys feront contraints, comme il a efte dit 
 ci-deflus, d'entreravec leurs vaiiTeaux dans les ports de Pautre 
 roy, ils feront obligez, en entrant, d'arborer la banniere, ou 
 marque de leur nation, et d'avertir de leur arrivee par treis 
 F 3 coups
 
 ?d ALETTERTO 
 
 coups de moufquet : afaute de quoi faire, et d'en-voyer une 
 chaloupe a terre, ils pourront etre confifquez. 
 
 ART. VII. 
 
 Pareillement fi les vaifleaux de 1'un ou de 1'autre defdits 
 Rovs, & de leurs fujets et habitans viennent a echouer, jetter 
 en mer leurs marchandifes, ou, ce qu'a Dieu ne plaife, faire 
 naufrage, ou qu'il leur arrive quelqu'autre malheur que ce 
 foit, on donnera aide et fecours avec bont< et charit a ceux 
 qui feront en danger, ou auront fait naufrage : il leur fera de- 
 livre des faufs conduits, ou pafleports, pour pourvoir fe reti- 
 rcr dans leur pays en feurete, et fans etre moleftez. 
 
 ART. VIII. 
 
 Qm fi les vaifleaux de 1'un ou de Tautre Roy, qui feront 
 contraints par quelque avanture ou caufe que ce foit, comme 
 il a e e dit, de fe retirer dans les ports de 1'autre Roy, fe troiH 
 vent au nombre de trois ou de quatre, & peuvent donner quel- 
 que jufte caufe de foup9on, ils feront aufli-tot connoitre au 
 gouvemeur ou principal magiftrat du lieu, la caufe de leur 
 arrivee ; et ne demeureront qu'autant de terns, qu'ils en au- 
 ront permiflion du dit governeur ou commandant, & ce qu'il 
 fera jufte et raifonable, pour fe pourvoir de vivres, et pout 
 radouber et equiper leurs vaifleaux. 
 
 That it may appear what was the fenfe both Houfes of Par- 
 liament had of thefe Treaties, I have here adjoined the Re- 
 folutions, and Addrefles of the Lords, and Commons, upon 
 the petition of the merchants laft year, and his Majefty's 
 mofl gracious Anfwers. 
 
 Jovit, 30 die Martii, 1738. 
 
 Refohed, 
 
 That it is the opinion of this committee, that it is the na-* 
 tural and undoubted right of the Britim fubjeds to fail with 
 their fhips on any part of the feas of America, to and from 
 any part of his Majefty's dominions ; and that the freedom of 
 navigation and commerce, which the fubjeds of Great Bri- 
 tarn have an undoubted right to by the law of nations, and by 
 virtue of the treaties fubf.fting between the two crowns of 
 Oreat-Bnta.n and Spain, has been greatly interrupted by th 
 Spamards under pretences altogether groundlefs and unwar- 
 rantable;
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 71 
 rantable ; that before and fince the execution of the treaty of 
 Seville, and the declaration made by the crown of Spain pur- 
 fuant thereunto, for the fatisfaction and fecurity of the com- 
 merce of Great Britain, many unjuft fei/,ures and captures 
 have been made, and great depredations committed by the 
 Spaniards, attended with many inftances of unheard ef cruel- 
 ty and barbarity; that the frequent applications made to the 
 court of Spain for procuring jufKce and latibfaclion to his ma- 
 jefty's injured fubjects, for bringing the offenders to condign 
 punifhment, and for preventing the like abufes tor the future, 
 have proved vain and ineffectual, and the feveral orders or 
 cedulas, granted by the king of Spain for restitution and re- 
 paration of great lodes fuftained by the unlawful and unjufti- 
 fiable feizures and captures made by the Spaniards, have been 
 difobeyed by the Spanifh governors,- or totally evaded and 
 eluded ; all which violences and depredations have been car- 
 ried on to the great lofs and damage of the fubje&s of Great- 
 Britain trading to America, and in direct violation of the trea- 
 ties fubfifting between the two crowns. 
 
 A motion was made, and the queftion being put, that the 
 faid refolution be recommitted ; 
 It palled in the negative. 
 
 Then tbe faid refolution, being read a fecond time, was 
 agreed to by the houfe. 
 
 Mr. Alderman Perry alfo acquainted the houfe, that he was 
 directed by the committee to move the houfe, that an humble 
 : addrefs be prefented to his majefty, humbly befeeching his 
 m?jefty, to ufe his royal endeavours with his catholick ma- 
 jefty, to obtain effectual relief for his injured fubje&s, and to 
 convince the court of Spain, that, how defirous foever his 
 majefty may be to preferve a good correfpondence and amity 
 Detwixt the two crowns (which can only fubfift, by a ftrift 
 Dbfervance of their mutual treaties, and a juft regard to the 
 ights and privileges belonging to each other) his majefty can 
 10 longer fuffer fuch conftant and repeated infults and injuries 
 :o be carried on, to the difhonour of his crown, and to the 
 uin of his trading fubje&s ; and to afTure his majefty, that 
 n cafe his royal and friendly inftances, for procuring juftice, 
 ind for tbe future fecurity of that navigation and commerce, 
 vhich his people have an undoubted right to by treaties and 
 he laws of nations, mail not be able to procure, from the 
 quity and friendfhip of the king of Spain, fuch fatisfaction, as 
 ,is majefty may reafonably expect from a good and faithful 
 'lly, this houfe will effectually fupport his majefty in taking 
 F 4 fuch
 
 72 ALETTERTO 
 
 fuch meafures, as honour and juftice (hall make it neceiTary 
 
 for his majefty to purfue. 
 
 And Mr. Alderman Perry moved the houfe accordingly. 
 
 Refohed, 
 
 That an humble addrefs be prefented to his majefty, hum- 
 bly befeeching his majefty, to ufe his royal endeavours with 
 his catholick majefty, to obtain effectual relief lor his injured 
 fubje&s, and to convince the court of Spain, that, how dtii- 
 rous foever his majefty may be to preferve a good correfpon- 
 dence and amity betwixt the two crowns (which can only fubr 
 fill, by a ftricl: obfervance of their mutual treaties, and a juft 
 regard to the rights and privileges belonging to each other) 
 his majefty can no longer fuffer fuch conftant and repeated 
 infults and injuries to be carried on, to the difhonour of his 
 crown, and to the ruin of his trading fubje&s ; and to affure 
 his majefty, that, in cafe his royal and friendly inftances, for 
 procuring juftice, and for the future fecurity of that naviga~ 
 tion and commerce, which his people have an undoubted right 
 to by treaties and the law of nations, (hall not be able to pro- 
 cure, from the equity and friendfhip of the king of Spain, 
 fuch fatisfacYion, as his majefty may reasonably expect from 
 a good and faithful ally, this houfe will effectually fupport his 
 majefty in taking fuch meafures, as honour and juftice mall 
 make it neceffary for his majefty to purfue. 
 
 Venerisy 7 die Apr His, 1738. 
 
 Mr. Speaker reported, that the Houfe attended his Majefty 
 with their Refolution and Addrefs of the 3oth day of March 
 laft, to which his Majefty was pleafcd to give this moft gra- 
 cious Anfwer, viz. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 I A M fully fenfible of the many and unwarrantable depre 
 dations committed by the Spaniards; and you may be af 
 fured, I will make ufe of the moft proper and effectual means 
 that are in my power, to procure juftice and fatisfa&ion t 
 my injured fubjeSs, and for the future fecurity of their trad 
 and navgation. I can make no doubt, but you will fuppor 
 me, with chearfulnefs, in ali fuch meafures, as, in purfuanc 
 of your advice, 1 may be neceflitated to take, for the honou 
 of my crown and kingdoms, and the rights of my people. 
 
 Th
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 73 
 
 The humble ADDRESS of the Right Honourable the Lords 
 Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament afiembled. 
 
 Die Mortis, 2 Maii, 1 738. 
 
 Mojl Gracious Sovereign) 
 
 WE your majefty'smoft dutiful and loyal fubje&s, the 
 lords fpiritual and temporal in parliament airembled, 
 (having taken into our ferious confederation the many unjutl 
 'violences and depredations committed by the Spaniards, upon 
 the perfons, (hips, and effe&s of divers of your majefty's 
 Ifubje&s in America, have come to the following relolutions, 
 which we beg leave in the humbled manner to lay before your 
 majefty, for your royal confederation, viz. 
 
 I. Refolved, That the fubje&s of the crown of Great-Bri- 
 tain have a clear and undoubted right to navigate in the Ame- 
 
 irican leas, to and from any part of his majefty's dominions ; 
 tand for carrying on fuch trade and commerce as they are 
 
 | jjuftly intitled unto in America ; and alfo to carry all forts of 
 goods and merchandizes, or effects, from one part of his ma- 
 jefty's dominions to any other part thereof; and that no goods, 
 ;being fo carried, are by any treaty fubfifting between the 
 \ crowns of Great-Britain and Spain, to be deemed or taken 
 Dps contraband or prohibited goods; and that the fearching of 
 fuch (hips on the open feas, under pretence of their carrying 
 contraband or prohibited goods, is a violation and infraction 
 of the treaties fubfifting between the two crowns. 
 
 II. Refolved, That it appears to this houfe, that as well 
 before, as fince the execution of the treaty of Seville, on the 
 part of Great-Britain, dive rsfhips and veflels, with their car- 
 goes, belonging to Britifh fubjets, have been violently feiz,ed 
 and confifcated by the Spaniards, upon pretences altogether 
 unjuft and groundlefs ; and that many of the failors on board 
 
 * fuch (hips have been injurioufly and barbaroufly imprifoned 
 i: ind ill-treated ; and that thereby the liberty of navigation and 
 
 commerce belonging to his majefty's fubjefo, by the law of 
 iitions, and by virtue of the treaties fubfifting between the 
 rrowns of Great-Britain and Spain, hath been unwarrantably 
 nlringed and interrupted, to the great lofs and and damage of 
 our merchants, and in direct violation of the faid treaties. 
 
 III. Refolved, That it appears to this houfe, that frequent 
 ^plications have been made, on the part of his majefty, to 
 die court of Spain, in a manner the moft agreeable to treaties, 
 nd to the peace and friendship fubfiiting between the two 
 
 crowns,
 
 74 A LETTER TO 
 
 crowns, for redreffing the notorious abufes and grievances be- 
 fore mentioned, and preventing the like for the future, and 
 for obtaining adequate fatisfadion to his injured fubjeds; 
 which, in the event, have proved entirely fruitlefs, and of 
 no effea. 
 
 We think it our duty, on this important occafion, humbly 
 to reprefent to your majefty, That we are moft fenfibly af- 
 feded with the many and grievous injuries and lofles fuftained 
 by your majefty's trading fubjeds, by means of thefe unwar- 
 rantable depredations and fe'^ures ; and to give your majefty 
 the ftrongeft and moft fmcere aflurances, That in cafe your 
 friendly and powerful inftances for procuring reftitution and 
 reparation to your injured fubjeds, and for the future fecu- 
 rity of their trade and navigation, fhall fail of having their 
 due effed and influence on the court of Spain, and fhall not 
 be able to obtain that real fatisfadion and fecurity, which 
 your majefty may in juftice exped ; we will 7,ealoufly and 
 chearfully concur in all fuch meafures as (hall become necef* 
 fary for the fupport of your majefty's honour, the preferva- 
 tion of our navigation and commerce, and the common good 
 of thefe kingdoms. 
 
 His MAJESTY'S moft Gracious ANSWER. 
 
 My Lords, 
 
 I AM fenfibly touched with the many hardfhips and injuries 
 fuftained by my trading fubjeds in America from the cru 
 cities and unjuft depredations of the Spaniards. You may be 
 aflured of my care to procure fatisfadion and reparation for 
 the lofles they have already fuffered, and fecurity for the free- 
 dom of navigation for the future ; and to maintain to my peo- 
 ple the full enjoyment of all the rights to which they are in- 
 titled by treaty and the law of nations. 
 
 I doubt not but I fhall have your concurrence for the fup- 
 port of fuch meafures as may be neceflary tor that purpofe. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 S|I N C E I wrote my letter, news is come into the coun- 
 try that two or three of our fhips have been very lately 
 taken by the Spaniards, one of them by a Spanifh man of war 
 with the king's commifilon, on the high feas, the captain of 
 which is now imprifoned at Cadiz ; and that two (loops be- 
 longing to the South-Sea company are detained, and a guard 
 is fet upon our fadory at the Havannah. If thefe arc the 
 firjl-fruits of our peace, what will the barvc/l be? 
 
 But
 
 A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT. 75 
 
 But after all, Sir, have we any peace at all ? have we any 
 hing granted us that will even bear that name ? or have we 
 een only amufed by the Spaniards, till they could get ibeir 
 toney borne, (which we hear is hourly expected in two rich- 
 f laden (hips,) and till the feafon fhould be part for us to aft 
 rith advantage ? 
 
 I would alfo beg leave to a(k one queftion more. We 
 'ere told fome time ago that one of our men of war in the 
 Veft-lndies had taken the Spanifti regifter fhip, but that, by 
 rders of commodore Brown, it was immediately afterwards 
 irried back to the latitude in which it was taken, and re- 
 ored again. Did the captain who took it a& without, or 
 %ainfi orders ? if he had orders to cruife, why was his cap- 
 ire rejlored ? were thofe orders only given for flow, to 
 mvfe the merchants, and to look like aflion ? would it not 
 ave been right and prudent to have kept the money, that was 
 ?oard this fhip, at a pledge in our bands, in cafe that peace 
 lould be refufed us upon proper terms ? We might have 
 2pt itjuftly, as afecurity for the payment of our loffes ; 
 ^ereas the aft of the Spaniards, in detaining our effe&s at 
 lie Havannah, is in reality adding a new robbery to the part, 
 et me however obferve, that, though reparation to our 
 rcbants is highly fit, and neceflary, and what we ought to 
 imand, // // by far the point of leajl importance to tbe nation. 
 fe are interefted no doubt for them upon many accounts, 
 lit both we and they have a much greater interefl in tbefu- 
 \re fecurity of commerce being firmly ejlablijbed. Ibis is 
 lie national concern, this both houfes of parliament have 
 iongly infifted on, this his majefty has promifed to procure 
 r us. If this be neglected, any prefent gratification will be 
 ilittle advantage, and flou/d be thought of with /corn. 
 
 
 LET-
 
 LETTERS 
 
 FROM 
 
 A PERSIAN IN ENGLAND 
 
 TO HIS 
 
 FRIEND AT ISPAHAN.
 
 [ 79 3 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 BOOKSELLER, 
 
 S I R, 
 
 ' Need not acquaint you by what accident thefe Letters 
 . were put into my hands, and what pains I have taken in 
 anQating them. I will only fay, ihat having been lone a 
 holar to the late mod learned Mr. Dadichy, Interpreter of 
 ,ie Oriental languages, I have acquired (kill enough in the 
 erfian tongue, to be able to give the fenfe of them pretty 
 .ftly: though I muft acknowledge my tranflation far infe- 
 r to the Laftern fublimity of the original, which no Eng- 
 ln exprefllon can come up to, and which no Englifh rea- 
 r would admire. 
 
 I am aware that fome people may fufped that the charac- 
 \r ot a Perfian is fffitiout, as many fuch counterfeits have 
 : peared both in France and England : but whoever reads 
 tern with attent.on, will be convinced, that they are cer- 
 l nly the work of a perfed ftranger. The obfervations are 
 I foreign and out of the way, fuch remote bints and imfierfe* 
 toon, are taken up, our prefent bappy condition is in all re- 
 
 U ^l y dt that ir is h ^rdly pofllble any EngHA. 
 r-n mould be the author. 
 
 Yet as there is a pleafure in knowing how things here affed 
 oreigner, though his conceptions of them be ever fo extra- 
 *ant, I think you may venture to expofe them to the eyes 
 
 BrZ^. t SlJ^^? Bfci " PJ ain - th who 
 
 voteth u an wo 
 
 P rt.auT ^ 3 ^ hbeny ; 3nd muft be fu PP fed more 
 trt.al than our countrymen, when they fpeak of their own 
 
 a aired cuftoras and favourite opinions. 
 
 J have
 
 80 TO THE BOOKSELLER. 
 
 I have nothing further to add, but that it is a great pity 
 they are not recommended to the public by a dedication to 
 fame treat man about the court, who would have patronized 
 them for the freedom with which they are writ: but the 
 Publifher not having the honour to be acquainted with any 
 body there, they mufl want that ineftimable advantage, and 
 truft entirely to the candour of the reader. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your rnoft humble fervant, 
 
 LETTE
 
 LETTER i. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London* 
 
 H O U knoweft, my deareft Mirza, the reafons that 
 _|_ moved me to leave my country and vifit England : thou 
 tvaft thyfelf, in a great meafure, the caufe of it. The rela- 
 tions we received from our friend Ufbec, of thofe parts of 
 Europe wMch he had feen, raifed in us an ardent dtfire to* 
 know the reft, and particularly this famous rfland, of which, 
 not having been there himfelf, he could give us but imperfect 
 accounts. 
 
 By his perfuafion we determined to travel tbitber: but when 
 we were juft ready to fet out, the fublime orders of the fophl 
 our mafler detained thee at the feet of his facred throne. 
 
 Unwilling as I was to go alone, I yielded to thy importuni- 
 ties, and was content to live fmgle among ftrangers and ene- 
 mies to the faith, that I might be able to gratify thy thirft of 
 knowledge. 
 
 My voyage was profperous : and I find this [country welt 
 worthy our curiofity. The recommendations given me by 
 Ufbec to fome Englifh he knew at Paris, are a great advan- 
 tage to me : and I have taken fuch pains to learn the lan- 
 guage, that I am already more capable of conversation than a 
 great many foreigners I meet with here, who have refided 
 much longer in this country, efpecially the French, who feem 
 to value themfelves upon (peaking no tongue but their own. 
 
 I fhall apply myfelf principally to ftudy the EngHJb govern- 
 ment, fo different from that of Perfia, and of which Ufbec 
 has conceived at a diftance fo great an idea. 
 
 Whatever in the manners of this people appears to me to* 
 bejingular and fantaflical> I will alfo give thee fome account! 
 of : and if I may judge by what I have feen already, this is a 
 fubjeQ: which will not eafily be exhaufted. 
 
 Communicate my letters to Ufbec, and he will explain 
 fiich difficulties to thee as may happen to occur: but if any 
 thing mould feem to you both to be unaccountable, do not 1 
 therefore immediately conclude it falfe\ for the habits and 
 reafonings of men are fo very different, that what appears the* 
 excefs of folly in one country, may, in another, beefteerried 
 the higheft wifdom. 
 
 G LETTER
 
 [ 82 J 
 LETTER II 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 TH E firft obje&s of a Granger's curiofity are the public 
 fpe&acles. I was carried laft night to one they call an 
 opera, which is a concert of mufic brought from Italy, and in 
 every refpeft foreign to this country. It was performed in a 
 chamber as magnificent as the refplendent palace of our em- 
 peror, and as full of handfome women as his feraglio. They 
 had no eunuchs among them ; but there was one who fung 
 upon the ftage, and, by the luxurious tendernefs of his airs, 
 feemed fitter to make them wanton, than keep them chafte. 
 
 Infteadof the habit proper to fuch creatures, he wore a fuit 
 of armour, and called himfelf Julius Caefar. 
 
 I afked who Julius Csefar was, and whether he had been 
 famous for finging ? 
 
 They told me, he was a warrior that had conquered all the 
 world, and debauched half the women in Rome. 
 
 I was going to exprefs my. admiration at feeing him fo pro-, 
 perly reprefented, when I heard two ladies, who fate nigh me, 
 cry out, as it were in an ecftacy, O that dear creature ! I ami 
 dying for love of him. 
 
 At the fame time I heard a gentleman fay aloud, that both 
 the mufic and fingers were deteftable. 
 
 You muft not mind him, faid my friend, he is of thcotber i 
 party, and comes here only as zjpy. 
 
 How ! faid I, have you parties in mufic ? Yes, replied he* 
 it is a rule with us to judge of nothing by our fenfes and un- 
 derftanding ; but to hear, and fee, and think, only as we 
 chance to be differently engaged. 
 
 I hope, faid I, that a ftranger may be neutral in thefe di- 
 vifions : and to fay the truth, your mufic is very far from in- 
 flaming me to a fpirit of fadion ; it is much more likely to 
 lay me afleep. Ours in Perfia fets us all a dancing : but I am 
 quite unmoved with this. 
 
 Do but fancy it moving, returned my friend, and you will 
 loon be moved as much as others. It is a trick you may learn 
 when you will, with a little pains : we have mod of us learnt - 
 it in our turns. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ *3 J; r 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 ' From London. 
 
 Was this morning prefent at a diverfion extremely differ- 
 ent from the opera, of which I have given thee a defcrip- 
 ,ion^ and they tell me it is peculiar to this country. The 
 paatora were placed in galleries of an open circus: below 
 ihem was an area filled, not with eunuchs and muficians, but 
 [vith bulls and bears, and dogs and fighting men. The plea- 
 ure was to fee the animals worry and gore one another, and 
 
 , 
 
 iu! a ' ld receiveman y wounds; which the delight- 
 
 beholders rewarded with fhowers of money, greater or 
 , in proportion as the combatants were more or lefs hurt. 
 had fome compafllon for the poor bcafts which were forci- 
 r mcenfed againft each other : but the human brutes, who 
 
 HI, 
 
 s, o 
 fnexcited by any rage or fenfe of injury, could fpill the blood 
 
 others, and lofe their own, feenied to me to deferve no 
 ity : however, I looked upon it as a proof of the martial ge- 
 nts of this people, and imagined I could difcover in that fe- 
 ocuy a fp.nt of freedom. A Frenchman, who fate near me, 
 I/as much offended at the barbarity of the fight, and reproach- 
 :d my friend who brought me thither with the fanguinary dif- 
 jOlition of the Englifh, in delighting in fuch fpeftacles. My 
 rend agreed with him in general, and allowed that it ought 
 ot to be encouraged in a civilized ftate: but a gentleman 
 'ho was placed juft above them caft a very four look at both, 
 id did not feem at all of their opinion. He was dreft in a 
 ; iort black wig, had his boots on, and held in his hand along 
 ,n.p winch, when the fellow fought ftoutly, he would crack 
 Ft loud by way of approbation. One would have thought 
 y his afped that he had fought fome prizes himfelf, or at leaft 
 jiat he had received a good part of his education in this place. 
 ..is d.fcourfe was as rough as his figure, but did not appear 
 ^me to want fenfe. I fuppofe, Sir, faid he to my friend, 
 at you have been bred at court, aud therefore I am not fur* 
 tted that you do not relifli the bear-garden : but let me tell 
 ^u that if more people came hither, and fewer loitered in 
 e drawing-room, it would not be the worfe for Old England 
 /e are indeed a chitized jlate, as you are pleafed to call it \ 
 it I could w,m, upon certain occafions, we were not quite 
 BET 5 entlenefs and effeminacy in our manners will 
 
 fn us by degrees into flaves, and we (hall grow to hate 
 G * fighting
 
 8 4 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 fi R hting in earneft, when we do not love to fee it in jeft. You 
 fine gentlemen are for the tafte of Modern Rome, fqueak.ng 
 eunuchs and corruption: but I ana ifor that of Ancient : Rome, 
 gladiators and liberty. And as for the barbarity which the 
 foreigner there upbraids us with, I can tell him of a French 
 king whom their nation is very proud of, that acted much 
 more barbanujly ; for he fhed the blood of millions of hit 
 fubjefts out of downright wantonnefs, and butchered his i 
 nocent neighbours without any caufe of quarrel, only to have 
 the glory of being efteemed the greatejl pnze-pgbter in Europe. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 IT is the law of England, that when a debtor is infolvent, 
 his creditors may ihut him up in prifon, and keep him 
 there, if they pleafe, for all his life, unlefs he pays the whole 
 of what he owes. My curiofity led me, the other day, to' 
 one of thofe prifons : my heart is ftill heavy with the remem- 
 brance of the obje&s I law there. Among the various caufes 
 of their undoing, feme are of fo extraordinary a kind, that 
 I cannot help relating them to thee. One of the prifoners, 
 who carried in his looks the moft fettled melancholy, told me 
 | he had been mafter of an eafy fortune, and lived very happily 
 "a good while ; till he became acquainted with a lawyer, who, 
 in looking over fome old writings of his family, unluckily 
 difcovered certain parchments that gave him a right to an ef- 
 tate in the poffeflion of one of his neighbours : upon which 
 he was perfuaded to go to law ; and, after profecuting his 
 fuit for twenty years, with a vexation that had almoft turned 
 his brain, he made the lawyer's fortune, reduced his neigh- 
 bour to beggary, and had no fooner gained his caufe, but his 
 creditors feized on both eflates, and fent him to enjoy hu 
 victory in a jail. 
 
 A fecond informed me, that he was a citizen, and born tt 
 a confiderable eftate, but being covetous to improve it, hac 
 married a very rich heirefs, who was fo vaftly genteel in he; 
 expences, and found fo many ways of doing credit to hcrfel 
 and her hufband, that (he quickly fent him from his new houf< 
 near the court, to the lodgings in which I found him. \Vh; 
 did not you divorce her, faid I to him, when you found tha 
 her extravagance would be your ruin ? Ah, Sir, replied he, ; 
 fhould have been a happy man, if I could have caught he 
 with a gallant ; I might then have got rid of her by law 
 
 bu
 
 L E T T E R IV. 85 
 
 but, to my forrovr, fhe was virtuous as well as ugly; her only 
 paffions were equipage and gaming. I was infinitely furpriz- 
 ed, that a man fhould wifli to find his wife an adultrds, or 
 that he fhould be obliged to keep her to his undoings only 
 becaufe fhe was not one. 
 
 Another faid, he was a gentleman of a good family, and 
 having a mind to rile in the (late, fpent fo much money to 
 purchafe a feat in parliament, that, though he fucceeded pretty 
 well in his views at courf, the falary did not pay the debt ; 
 and being unable to get himfelf chofe again at the next ele&i- 
 on, he loft his place and his liberty both together. 
 
 The next that I fpoke to was reputed the beft fcholar in 
 Europe : he underftood the Oriental languages, and talked to 
 me in very good Arabic. 
 
 I afked how it was poflible that fo learned a man fhould be 
 in want, and whether all the books he had read could not 
 keep him out of jail ? Sir, faid he, thofe books are the very 
 | things that brought me hither. Would to God I had been 
 | bred a cobler. I mould then have pofTefTed fome ufeful know- 
 iJedge, and might have kept my family from ftarving : but the 
 ;wor!d which I read of, and that I lived in, were fo very dif- 
 ferent, that I was undone by the force of fpeculation. 
 
 There was another who had been bred to merchandize, but 
 being of too lively an imagination for the dulnefs of trade, 
 ihe applied himfelf to poetry, and neglecting his other bufi- 
 inefs, was foon reduced to the ftate I faw him in: but heaffur- 
 jed me he fhould not be long there ; for his lucky confinement 
 Ihaving given him more leifure for ftucfy, he had quitted poe- 
 jtry, and taken to the mathematics, by the means of which 
 he had found out the longitude, and expeded to obtain a great 
 reward, which the government promifed to the difcoverer. I 
 perceived he was not in his perfect fenfes, and pitied fuch an 
 |3dd fort of frenzy. But my companion was infinitely great- 
 er for fome unhappy people who were {hut up in that mifera- 
 ,-jle place, by having loft their fortunes in the public funds, or 
 n private projects ; of which this age and country have been 
 /ery fruitful, and which, under the fallacious notion of great 
 advantage, drew in the unwary to their deftru&ion. I aflced 
 in what dungeon they were confined, who had been the undo- 
 es of thefe wretched men ? but, to my great furprize, was 
 informed, that the contrivers of fuch wicked projects had lefs 
 eafon than moft men in England to be afraid of a jail. Good 
 icaven ! faid I, can it be poflible, that, in a country govern- 
 ed by laws, the innocent, who are cheated out of all, mould 
 >eput in prifon, and the villains who cheat them left at li- 
 G 3 berty !
 
 86 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 berty ! With this reflexion I ended my enquiries, and wifh- 
 ed myfelf fafe out of a land where fuch a mockery of juftice 
 is carried on. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Was the other day in a houfe where I faw a fight very 
 ftrange to a Perfian. There was a number of tables in 
 the room, round which were placed feveral fets of men and 
 women. They feemed wonderfully intent upon fome bits of 
 painted paper which they held in their hands. I imagined at 
 firft that they were performing fome magical ceremony, and 
 that the figures I faw traced on the bits of paper, were a 
 myftical talifman or charm. What more confirmed me in 
 this belief was the grimaces and diftortions of their counte- 
 nances, much like thofe of our magicians in the aft of con? 
 juring : but enquiring of the gentleman that introduced me, 
 I was told they were at play, and that this was the favourite 
 diverfion of both fexes. 
 
 We have quite another way of diverting ourfelves with the 
 women in Perfia, anfwered I. But I fee no figns of mirth 
 among them : if they are merry, why do not they laugh, or 
 fing, or jump about ? If I may judge of their hearts by their 
 looks, halfofthefe revellers are ready to hang themfclves! 
 That may be, faid my friend ; for very likely they are lofmg 
 more than they are worth. How! faid I, do you call that 
 play? Yes, replied he, they never are thoroughly pleafed un- 
 lefs their whole fortunes are at ftake. Thofe cards, you fee 
 them hold, are to decide whether he who is now a wahjff'i, 
 quality (hall be a beggar ; or another who is now a beggar, and 
 has but juft enough to furnifh out one night's play, Imall be 
 a man of quality. 
 
 The loft, faid I, is in the right ; for he ventures nothing : 
 but what excufe can be thought on for .the former ? Are the 
 nobility in England fo indifferent to wealth and honour, toeJr-3 
 pofe them without the leaft neceflity ? I mtift believe that they 
 are general \yfureofvuinning, and that thofe they play with 
 have the odds againjl them. 
 
 If the chance was only equal, anfwered he, it would bf* 
 tolerable : but their adverfaries engage them at great advan- 
 tage^ and are too wife to leave any thing to fortune. 
 
 This comes, faid I, of your being allowed the ufe of wine v 
 If thefe gentlemen and ladies were not quite intoxicated with j 
 
 tha
 
 ' L E T T E R V. 87 
 
 tnat curfed liquor, they could not poflibly act fo abfurdly. 
 
 But why does not the government take care of them when 
 they are in that condition ? Methinks the fellows that rob 
 them in this manner (hould be brought to juftice. 
 
 Alas ! anfwered he, thefe cleats are an innocent fort of 
 people. They only prey upon the vices and luxury of a few 
 particulars: but there are others who raife eftates by the mife- 
 'rwand ruin of their country; who game not with their own 
 i money, but with that of the public t and fecu rely play away 
 ithe fubftance of the orphan and the widow, of the bujbandman 
 land the trader. Till juftice is done upon thefe, the others 
 ,have a right to impunity : and it is no fcandal to fee gamejlers 
 Jive like gentlemen, where Jlock-jobbers live like princes. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THOU wouldft be aftoniftied to hear fome women in this 
 country talk of love : their difcourfes about it are as re- 
 ined as their notions of paradife, and they exclude the plea- 
 ure of thefenfes out of both. But however fatisfied they 
 nay be in the world to come with fuch vifionary joys, it is 
 ny opinion, that the niceft of them all, if me were to enjoy 
 ier paradife here, would make it a Mahometan one. I had 
 ately a convention on this fubjed with one of thefe platonics 
 for that is the title they affed.) In anfwer to all her pretty 
 eafonings, I told her the following tale of a fair lady, who 
 pas a ///w like herfelf. 
 
 The Loves of Ludovico and Honoria. 
 
 THE city of Genoa has been always famed, above any 
 own in Europe, for the refinement of its gallantry. It is 
 ommon therefor a gentleman to profefs himfelf the humble 
 prvant of a handfome woman, and wait upon her to every 
 :ublic place for twenty years together, without ever feeing 
 er in private, or being entitled to any greater favours than a 
 jind look, or a touch of her fair hand. Of all this fighing 
 ibe, the mod enamoured, the moft conftant, and the moft 
 :fpettul, was fignor Ludovifcq^. ; 
 
 His miftrefs, Honoria Grimaldi, only daughter to a fenator 
 
 - that name, was the greateft beauty of the age in wnich (he 
 
 ved, and, at the fame time, the coyeft and moft referved. So 
 
 -eat was her nicety in the point of love, that although fhe 
 
 G 4 could
 
 88 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 n- 
 
 me had not been quite fo pcrfca. He writ her a very 
 holy letter : and foe returned him one in verie, full of 
 t a *"** 
 
 melancholy 
 
 about love ; but not a 
 
 eexe . 
 
 to fatisfy the poor man's impat.ence At laft he applied him, 
 felf to her father; and, to engage him to make ufe of hi, 
 authority, offered to take Honoria without a portion. The 
 father, who was a plain man, was mightily pleafed with this 
 propofal, and made no d.fficulty to promife him fuccefs. Ac- 
 cording'y he very roundly told his daughter, that me muft 
 married the next day, or go to a nunnery. Th.s d.lemma 
 ftartled her very much. In fpite of all ^her repugnance o 
 the marriage bed, me found fomethmg about her ftill more 
 averfe to the idea of a cloifter. An abfolute feparation from 
 Ludovico was what (he could not bear : it was even worie 
 than an abfolute conjundion. In thisdiftrefs (he did not know 
 what to do ; (he turned over above an hundred romances to 
 fearch for precedents ; and, after many ftruggles with he 
 felf refolved to furrender upon terms. She therefore told 
 her lover, that me confented to be his wife, provided me 
 might be fo by degrees : and that, after the ceremony was 
 over, he would not pretend at once to all the rights and privir 
 leges of a hufband ; but allow her modefty leifure to make a 
 gradual and decent retreat. Ludovico did not like fuch a c* 
 pitulation ; but, rather than not have her, he was content to 
 pay this laft compliment to her caprice. They were married : 
 and, at the end of the firft month, he was very happy to fin 
 himfelf arrived at the full enjoyment of her lips. 
 
 While he was thus gaining ground, inch by inch, his fa- 
 ther died, and left him a great eftate in the ifland of Corfica_ 
 His prefence was neceiTary there ; but he could not think c 
 parting from Honoria. They embarked together, and Lu- 
 dovico had good hopes, that he mould not only take poflefiidn 
 of his eftate, but of his wife too, at his arrival. Whether it 
 was,' that Venus, who is faid to be born out of the fea, w 
 more powerful there than at land, or from the freedom which 
 is u.'ual aboard a (hip, it is fure, that, during the voyage, he was 
 
 indulged
 
 L E T T E R VI. 3g 
 
 indulged in greater liberties than ever he had prefumed to take 
 befoie: nay, it is confidently aflerted, that they were fuch 
 liberties, as have a natural and irrefiftible tendency to over- 
 come all fcruples whatfoever. But while he was failing on 
 with a fair wind, and almoft in the port, fortune, who took 
 a pleafure to perfecute him, brought an African corfair in 
 their way, that quickly put an end to their dalliance, by 
 : ipaking them his flaves. 
 
 Who can exprefs the affliction and defpair of this loving 
 couple, at fo fudden and ill-timed a captivity! Ludovico faw 
 himfelf deprived of his virgin-bride on the very point of ob- 
 taining all his wifhes: and Honoria had reafon to apprehend, 
 that me was fallen into rougher hands than his, and fuch as 
 no confiderations could reftrain. But the martyrdom fhe 
 looked for in that inftant was unexpectedly deferred till they 
 came to Tunis. The corfair, feeing her fo beautiful, thought 
 her a miftrefs worthy of his prince: and to him he prefer.ted 
 her at their landing, in fpite of her own, and her hufband's 
 Itears. O unfortunate end of all her pure and heroical fen- 
 liments! Was it for this that her favours were fo long and fo 
 obftinately denied to the tender Ludovico, to have them ra- 
 vifhcd in a moment by a rude barbarian, who did not fo 
 much as thank her for them ? But let us leave her in the fe- 
 raglio of the dey, and fee what became of Ludovico after this 
 cruel feparation. The corfair, finding him unfit for any la- 
 bour, made ufe of him to teach his children mufic, in which 
 'ic was perfectly well fkilled. This fervice would not have 
 >een very painful, if it had not been for the remembrance of 
 Honoria, and the thought of the brutalities fhe was expofed 
 :o. Thefe were always in his head, night and day, and he 
 , magined, that me had, by this time, killed herfelf, rather 
 han fubmit to fo grofs a violation. But while he was thus 
 ormentirg himfelf for one woman, he gave equal uneafincfs 
 o another. His mafter's wife faw him often from her win- 
 ,low, and fell violently in love with him. The African 
 adies are utter ftrangers to delicacy and refinement. She 
 ; nade no fcruple to acquaint him with her defires, and fent 
 icr favourite flave to introduce him by night into her cham- 
 >er. Ludovico would rain have been excufed, being afhamcd 
 ,o commit fuch an infidelity to his dear Honoria : but the 
 lave informed him, that if he hoped to live an hour, he muft 
 omply with her lady's inclinations; for that, in Afric, re- 
 ufals of that kind were always revenged with fword or poifon. 
 S T o conftancy could be ftrong enough to refift fo terrible a 
 nenace: he therefore went to the rendezvous at the time ap- 
 pointed,
 
 90 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 pointed, where he found a miftrefs infinitely more complying 
 than his fantastical Italian. But in the midft of their endear- 
 ments they heard the corfair at the door of his wife's apart- 
 ment. Upon the alarm of his coming, the frighted lover 
 made the beft of his way out of the window ; which not being 
 very high, he had the good fortune to get off unhurt. The 
 corfair did not fee him ; but by theconfufion his wife was in, 
 he fufpecled that fomebody had been with her. His jealoufy 
 directed him to Ludovico : and though he had no other proof 
 than bare fufpicion, he was determined to punifh him fevere- 
 ly ; and, at the fame time, fecurehimfelf for the future. He 
 therefore gave orders to his eunuchs to put him in the fame 
 condition with themfelves; which inhuman command was 
 performed with a Turkifh rigour far more defperate and com- 
 pleat than any fuch thing had been ever practifed in Italy. But 
 the change this operation wrought upon him, fo improved his 
 voice, that he became the finett finger in all Afric. His re- 
 putation was fo great, that the dey of Tunis fent to beg him 
 of his mailer, and preferred him to a place in his own feraglio. 
 He had now a free accefs to his Honoria, and an opportunity 
 of contriving her eicape. To that end he fecretly hired a fhip 
 to be ready to carry them off, and did not doubt but he fhould 
 find her very willing to accompany his flight. It was not 
 long before he faw her : and you may imagine the excefs of 
 her joy, at fo ftrange and agreeable a furprize. 
 
 Can it be poflible, cried me ; can it be poffible that I fe 
 you in this place ! O my dear Ludovico, I mall expire in the 
 pleafure of your embraces. But by what magic could you get 
 in, and deceive the vigilance of my tyrant and his guards ? 
 
 My habit will inform you, anfwered he, in a fofter tone of 
 voice than me had been ufed to : I am now happy in the 
 lofs which I have fuftained, fince it furnimes me with the 
 means of your delivery. Truft yourfelf to me, my dear 
 Honoria, and I will take you out of the power of this bar- 
 barian, who has fo little regard to your delicacy. You may 
 now be happier with me than you was before, as I mail not 
 trouble you with tbofe coarfe felicitations which gave you fo 
 much uneafmefs. We will love with the purity of angels, 
 and leave fenfual enjoyments to the vulgar, who have not ft 
 relim for higher pleafure. 
 
 How! faid Honoria, are you really no man ? No, replied 
 he ; but I have often heard you fay, that your love was only 
 to my mind : and that, I do affure you, is ftill the fame. 
 Alas ! faid me, I am ferry mine is altered ; but fince my being 
 here, I am turned Mahometan, and my religion will not iuffer 
 
 me
 
 L E T T E R VI. 91 
 
 me to run away with an unbeliever. My new hufband has 
 taught me certain dodrines unknown to me before; in the 
 practice of which I am refolved to live and die. Adieu ! I tell 
 thee, my conlcience will not permit me to have a longer 
 converfation with fuch an infidel. 
 
 Thus ended the Loves of Ludovico and Honoria. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 Fiom London. 
 
 I Have received thy anfwers to my letters with a pleafure, 
 which the diftance I am at from my friends, and country, 
 rendered greater than thou wouldft believe. I find thee very 
 i impatient to be informed of the government and policy of this 
 i country, which I promifed to fend thee fome account of: but 
 | though I have been diligent in my enquiries, and loft no time 
 i fince my arrival here, I am unable to anfwer the queftions 
 thou demandefl of me, otherwife than by acknowledging my 
 ' ignorance. 
 
 I have, for inftance, been often aflfured that the Englifti 
 ; parliament is a check to the king's authority : and yet 1 am 
 well informed, that the only way to advancement at court, 
 i is to gain a feat in parliament. 
 
 The houfe of commons is the reprefentative of the nation ; 
 
 I neverthelefs there are many great towns which fend no depu- 
 
 j ties thither, and many hamlets almoft uninhabited, that have 
 
 a right of fending two. Several members have never feen 
 
 thc-ir electors, and feveral are elected by the parliament, who 
 
 were rejected by the people. All the electors fwear not to fell 
 
 their voices: yet many of the candidates are undone by the 
 
 'expence of buying them. This whole affair is involved in 
 
 deep myftery, and inexplicable difficulties. 
 
 LThou afkcft if commerce be as flouriming as formerly ? Some 
 horn I have confulted on that head, fay, it is now in its me- 
 ridian : and there is really an appearance of its being fo ; for 
 luxury is prodigioufly encreafed, and it is hard to imagine 
 how it can be fupported without an inexhauftible trade. But 
 others pretend, that tbis very luxury is a proof of its decline : 
 land they add, that the frauds and villanies in all the trading 
 companies are fo many inward poifons, which, if not fpeedily 
 Expelled, will deftroy it intirely in a little time. 
 
 Thou wouldft know if property be fo fafely guarded as is 
 generally believed. It is certain, that the whole power of a 
 
 king
 
 9 2 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 king of England cannot force an acre of land from the weaken; 
 of his fubjeds ; but a knavijb attorney will take away his whole 
 eftate by thofe very laws which were defigned for its fecunty. 
 Nay, if I am not rnifinformed, even thole who are chofen by 
 the people to be the great guardians of property, have fome- 
 times taken more from them in one feflion of parliament, tor 
 the moft ufelefs expences, than the moft ablblute monarch 
 could venture to raife upon the molt urgent occafions. 
 
 Thefe, Mirza, are the contradictions that perplex me. My 
 judgment is bewildered in uncertainty : I doubt my own ob- 
 fervations, and diftruft the relations of others. More time, 
 and better information, may, perhaps, clear them up to me; 
 till then, modefty forbids me to impofe my conjedures upon 
 thee, after the manner of Chriftian travellers, whofe prompt 
 decifions are the efFed rather of folly than penetration. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 AST now underftand Englijb pretty well, I went laft night 
 JL\, with fome friends to fee a play. The principal cha- 
 racter was a young fellow, who, in the fpace of three or four 
 hours that the action lafted, cuckolds two or three hufbands, 
 and debauches as many virgins. I had heard that the Engliih 
 theatre was famous for killing people upon the flage : but this 
 author was more for propagating than defraying. 
 
 There were a great many ladies at the reprefentation of this 
 modeft performance ; and, though they fometimes hid their 
 faces with their fans (I fuppofe for fear of mewing that they 
 did not blufh) yet, in general, they feemed to be much de- 
 lighted with the fine gentleman's heroical exploits. I muft 
 confefs, faid I, this entertainment is far more natural than the 
 opera, and I do not wonder that the ladies are moved at it : 
 but if in Perfia we allowed our women to be prefent at fuch 
 fpedaclesas thefe, what would fignify our bolts, our bars, our 
 eunuchs? though we mould double our jealoufy and care, 
 they would foon get the better of all reftraint, and put in 
 pradice thofe leflbns of the ftage, which it is fo much plea- 
 fanter to ACT than to BEHOLD. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 93 I 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 A Friend carried me lately to an aflembly of the beaue 
 monde, which is a meeting of men and women of the 
 hrlt fafhion. The crowd was fo very great, that the two 
 fexes promifcuoufly prefled one another in a manner that 
 feemed very extraordinary to Oriental eyes. I obferved a 
 young man and a beautiful young woman fitting in a window 
 together, and whifpering one another with fo much earneft- 
 nefs, that neither the great noife in the room, nor number of 
 paflengers who rubbed by them continually, gave them the 
 lead difturbance. They looked at one another with the moll 
 animated tendernefs: the lady, efpecially, had in her eyes 
 fuch a mixture of foftnefs and dejire, that I expected every 
 moment to fee them withdraw ; in order to fatisfy their mu- 
 tual impatience, in a manner, that even the European liberty 
 would not admit of in fo public a place. I made my friend 
 take notice of them, and afked him bow long they bad been 
 married? He fmiled at my miftake, and told me, they were 
 not married; that the lady, indeed, had been married about a 
 .year and half, to a man that flood at a little diftance; but 
 ;that the gentleman was an unmarried man of quality, who 
 .imade it his bufinefs to corrupt other mens wives. That he 
 had begun the winter with this lady, and that this was her 
 \firjl affair of that fort ; her hufband and me having married 
 .for love. 
 
 As I had heard of many employed in the fame manner, and 
 could not perceive that they did any thing elfe, I alked my 
 friend, if there was any feminary, any public foundation for 
 educating young men of quality to this profeffton ; and whether 
 they could carry on the bulinefs without frequent interruptions 
 Ifrom the refpedive hufbands ? I will explain the whole matter 
 to you, fays he. There is, indeed, no public foundation or 
 academy for this purpofe ; but it depends upon the private care 
 or their feveral parents, who, if I may ufe the expreflion, nega- 
 tively breed them up to this bufinefs, by making them entire- 
 ly unfit for any other: for, left their fons mould be diverted 
 rom the profeflionof gallantry by a dull application to graver 
 ludies, they give them a very fuperficial tincture of iearn- 
 ng, but take care to inftru6t them thoroughly in the more 
 hewifh parts of education, fuch as mufic, drefling, dancing, 
 Vc. By which means, when they come to be men, they 
 
 naturally
 
 94 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 naturally prefer the gay and eafy converfation of the fair fey, 
 and are well received by them. As for the hufbands, they are 
 the people in the world who give them the leaft difturbance : 
 but, on the contrary, generally live in the ftricteft intimacy 
 with thofe who intend them the favour of cuckoldom. The 
 marriage contra being here perpetual, though the caufes of 
 it are of mort duration, the moft fenfible men are defirousof 
 having fome afliftance to fupport the burlhenfome perpetuity. 
 For inftance, every man marries either for money , or for love - 
 In the firft cafe, the money becomes his own as foon as the : 
 wife does ; fo that, having bad what be wanted from her, he 
 is very willing me mould have what fie wanted from any body 
 rather than from him. He is quiet at home, and fears no 
 reproaches. 
 
 In the latter cafe, the beauty he married foon grows fami- 
 liar by uninterrupted poflellion : his own greedinels furfeited 
 him ; .he is afhamed of his difguft, or at leaft of his indiffer- 
 ence, after all the tranfports of his firft defire ; and gladly ac- 
 cepts terms of domeftic peace through the mediation of a lover* 
 
 There are, indeed, fome exceptions : fome hufbands, who, 
 preferring an old miftaken point of honour to real peace and 
 quiet at home, difturb their wives pleafure : but they are very 
 tew, and are very ill looked upon. 
 
 I thanked my friend for explaining to me fo extraordinary 4 
 piece of domeftic oeconomy ; but could not help telling him, 
 that, in my mind, our Perflan method was more reafonable, of 
 havingymra/ wives under the care of one eunucb, rather than 
 one wife under the care of feveral lovers. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 Prom London. 
 
 WE have often read together and admired the little 
 hiftory of the Troglodytes related by our country- 
 man Uibec, with a fpirit peculiar to his writings *. Un- 
 equal as I am to the imitation of fo excellent an author, I have 
 a mind, in a continuation of that ftory, to (hew thee by what 
 ftbps, and through what changes, the original good of fociety 
 is overturned, and mankind become wickeder and more mi- 
 tyrable in a ftate of government, than they were when left 
 in a ftate of nature. 
 
 * Perfian Letters from Paris, vol. I. let. xi. to xiv. 
 
 Continuation
 
 L E T T E R X, 95 
 
 Continuation of the HISTORY*/ the T R O G L O- 
 
 The Troglodytes were fo affected with the virtue of the good 
 Did man who rerufed the crown which they had offered, that 
 :ney determined to remain without a king. The love of the 
 Dubl.c was fo ftrong in every particular, that there was no need 
 of authority to enforce obedience. The law of nature and un- 
 :orrupted reafon was engraven on their hearts : by that alone 
 hey governed all their adions, and on that alone they efta- 
 >hmed all their happinefs. But the moft perfed felicitv of 
 nortal men is fubjeft to continual difturbance. Thofe barba- 
 ian s whom they had defeated fome time before, ftin ed up by 
 idefire of revenge, invaded them again with greater forces 
 they fell upon them unawares, carried off their flocks and 
 ;erds, burnt their houfes, and led their women captive every 
 hing was in confufion, and the want of order made them in- 
 apable of defence. They foon found the necefllty of uniting 
 indcr a fingle chief. As the danger required vigour and ala- 
 "ty, they pitched upon a young man of diftingui/hed courare 
 nd placed him at their head. He led them on with ib 
 lucn fpirit and good condud, that he foon forced the enemv 
 ,> ret.re, and recovered all the fpoil. 
 
 The Troglodytes ftrewed flowers in his way, and, to reward 
 |.e lerv.ce he had done them, prefented him with the mc( 
 paut.ful of the virgins he had delivered from captivitv Bur 
 nmated by h,s fortune, and unwilling to part with his com! 
 and he advifed them to make thcmfelves amends for the ' 
 lies they had fuftamed, by carrying the war into the enemy's 
 untry ; which, he faid, would not be able to refift their vie- 
 nous arms. Defirous topunim thofe wicked men, they very 
 ;adly came into his propofal. But an old Troglodyte ftandini 
 m the afTembly, endeavoured to perfuade Them to gentle? 
 juncils. The goodnefs of God, faid he, O my countrymen 
 jias given us ftrength to repulfe our enemies, and they have 
 >a,d very dearly for molefting us. What more do you defire 
 romyour vidory, than peace and fecurity toyourfelves, re- 
 stance and fliame to your invaders? It is propofed to invade 
 ^hem in your turn, and you are told it will be eafy to fubdue 
 nem. But to what end would you fubdue them, when they 
 re no longer in a condition to hurt you? do you defire to 
 ^/rannize over them ? Have a care that in learning to be (y, 
 "its you do not alfo learn to be Jlo* s . If vou know how 
 J value hberty as you ought, you will not deprive others of
 
 .6 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 it, who, though unjuft, are men like yourfelves, and 
 
 ' ^Tnftrance was not heeded in the temper the 
 people was then in. The fight of the deflations that had been 
 Lufed by the late irruption, made them rcfolve on a violent 
 revenge. Befides, they were now grown fond of war and the 
 young men efpecially were eager of a new occafion to frgnalj 
 their valour. Greater powers were therefore given to the ge- 
 neral ; and the event was anfwerabfe to his promifes : for, in * 
 Ihort time, he fubdued all the nations that had joined in the' 
 league againft the Troglodytes. The merit of this fuccefs fo 
 endeared him to that grateful people, that in the heat and 
 of their joy, they unanimoufly chofe him for their king, witft 
 out prefcribing any bounds to his authority. They were to 
 innocent to fufped any abufe of fuch a generous truft, and 
 thought that when virtue was on the throne, the moll abfo 
 lute government was the beft. 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE firft aa of the new king was to difpofe of the con- 
 quered lands. One (hare of them, by general confent, he 
 allotted to himfelf, and the reft he divided among thofe who 
 were companions of his victory. Diftin&ion of rank and in 
 equality of condition, were then firft introduced among thf 
 Troglodytes: fome grew rich, and immediately comparifor 
 made others poor. From this (ingle root fprung up a thoufanc 
 mifchiefs ; pride, envy, avarice, dilcontent, deceit, and violence 
 Unheard-of diforders were committed; nor was any regard pau 
 to the decifions of ancient cuftom, or the di&ates or natura 
 juftice. Particulars could no longer be allowed to judge o 
 right ; it became neceflary to determine it by ftated laws. Tl 
 whole nation applied to the prince, to make thofe laws, am 
 take care of their execution. But the prince, unequal alon 
 to fuch a difficult tafk, was obliged to have recourle to th 
 oldeft and wifeft of his fubjeds for afliftance. He had nc 
 yet fo forgot himfelf, by being feated on anew-erecVed throm 
 as to imagine that he was become all-fufficient, or that he wx 
 placed there to govern by his caprice. It was therefore h 
 greateit care, how to fupply his own defeb by the counfck < 
 thofe who were moft famed for their knowledge and abOitie 
 
 Thi
 
 L E T T E R XII. 97 
 
 Thus the fenate was formed, which, with the king, corn- 
 pofed the leg.flature ; and thus the people freely bound them- 
 lelves by confentmg to fuch regulations, as the king and fe- 
 nate ihould decree. 
 
 T 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 SELI\L to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London; 
 
 E mftitution of laws among the Troglodytes was at- 
 _ tended with this inevitable ill erTed, that they beean 
 to think every thing right, which was not legally declared to 
 ie a crime. It feemed as if the natural obligations to virtue 
 Iwere deftroyed, by the foreign influence of human authority 
 tend vice was not (banned as a real evil, but grew to be 
 (thought a forbidden good. 
 
 ir. ; le u T ^g |od y te faid "> himfelf, I have made advantage 
 
 or the fimphcity of my neighbour, to over-reach him in 
 
 ; a bargain : he may reproach me, perhaps, but he cannot 
 
 < own T 5 alI WS mC t0 r b him Wkh his 
 
 i, as afked by his friend for a fum of 
 
 vhich he had lent him fome years before. 
 
 Have you any thing to (hew for it ? anfwered he. 
 
 A third was implored to remit part of his tenant's rent, be- 
 ;aule the man, by unavoidable misfortunes, was become very 
 x>r. Do not you fee, replied he, that he has ftilj enough to 
 uamtam his family ? By ftarving them he may find money to 
 : ay me, and the law requires him fo to do. 
 
 Thus the hearts of the Troglodytes were hardened ; but a 
 reater mifchief ftill enfued. The laws in their firft framing 
 'ere tew and plain, fo that any man could eafily underftand 
 icm, and plead his own caufe without an advocate. 
 i Some inconveniencies were found to flow from this The 
 ales were too general and loofe : too much was left to the 
 quity of the judge, and many particular cafes feemed to re- 
 iam undetermined and unprovided for. It was therefore 
 ropofed in the great council of the nation, to fpecify all thofe 
 veral exceptions; to tie the judges down to certain forms 
 
 explam correft, add to, and referve whatfover might feem 
 
 :ipable of any doubtful or different interpretations. While the 
 
 atter- was yet in deliberation, a wife old fenator fpoke thus - 
 
 You are endeavouring, O Troglodytes, to amend what 
 
 defeaivem your laws; but know, that by multiplying 
 
 laws, you will certainly multiply defect. Every new ex- 
 ^ " planation
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 planation will produce a new objeaion: and at laft the ve- 
 ry principles will be loft, on which they were originally 
 formed. Mankind maybe governed, and well governed, 
 under any laws that are fixed by ancient ufe. Belides their 
 being known and underftood, they have a fandity attend- 
 ing them, which commands obedience : but every varia- 
 tion as it difcovers a weaknefs in them, fo it leflens the 
 refpea ; by which alone, they can be effeaually maintam- 
 ed. If fubtleties and diftinftions are admitted to conftitute 
 " right, they will equally be made ufe of to evade it : and it 
 " juftice is turned into a fcience, injuftice will foon be made 
 a trade." 
 
 A 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 S the old man foretold, it came to pafs. The laws were 
 
 _ explained into contradictions, and digefled into confufton. 
 
 Men could no longer tell what was their right, and what was 
 
 not. A fet of Troglodytes undertook to find it out for all t 
 
 reft : but they were far from doing it out of pure benevolence : 
 
 their opinions were fold at no little price ; and how falfe foeve 
 
 they mieht prove, in the event of the caufe, the money ws 
 
 never ttTbe returned. Nay, the longer the difpute could be 
 
 protraaed, the more the parties concerned we% to pay. This 
 
 point being once well eftablilhed, caufes, that before we 
 
 difpatched in half an hour, now lafted half a century. There 
 
 were three courts placed one above another: on the door ol 
 
 the loweft was writ, Law ; on that of the fecond, Equity ; an 
 
 on the higheft, Common Senfe. Thefe courts had no con 
 
 nexion with one another, and a quite different method of pro 
 
 ceeding. No man could go to the laft, without pafiiri 
 
 through one of the former : and the journey was fo tedious 
 
 that very few could fupport the fatigue or the ex pence. E 
 
 there' was one particular more ftrange than all the reft. . 
 
 was veryfeldom that a man could read a word of the parch 
 
 ment by which he held his eftate : and they made their will 
 
 in a language, which neither they nor their heirs could un 
 
 derftand. 
 
 Such were the refinements of the Troglodytes, when the 
 had quitted the fimplicity of nature; and fo "bewildered wer 
 they in the labyrinth of their own laying out. 
 
 LETTE)
 
 [ 99 ] 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan, 
 
 From London. 
 
 TH E religion of the Troglodytes had been hitherto as 
 fimple as their manners. They loved God as the au- 
 thor of their happmefs : they feared him as the avenger of in- 
 jultice ; and they fought to pleafe him by doing good. But 
 their morals being corrupted, their religion could not long 
 continue pure : fuperftition found means to introduce itfelr, 
 and compkated their depravation. Their firft king, who had 
 been a conqueror, and a law-giver, died, after along reign, 
 extreamly regretted and revered by his fubje&s. His fon fuc- 
 ceeded, not by any claim of hereditary right, but the free 
 eledion of the people, who loved a family that had done them 
 fo many fervices. As he was fenfible that he owed his crown 
 to their veneration for the memory of his father, he endea- 
 voured to carry that veneration as high as poflible. He built 
 a tomb for him, which he planted round with laurels, and 
 caufed verfes to be folemnly recited in praife of his achieve- 
 ments. When he perceived that thefe honours were well re- 
 ceived in the opinion of the public, he thought he might 
 venture to go farther. He got it to be propofed in the ie- 
 jnate, that the dead monarch mould be deified, after the ex- 
 ample of many nations round about them, who had paid the 
 "ame compliment to their kings. The fenators were become 
 too good courtiers, not to give into fo agreeable a piece of 
 flattery, efpecially as their own honour was concerned in rai- 
 ng the character of their founder: and the people, feduced 
 ay their gratitude, thought that thofe virtues, which had ren- 
 iered him the protetor and father of his country, very juftly 
 'entitled him to the fubordinate {hare of divinity. 
 , It is not to be conceived how many evils this alteration pro- 
 'luced. 
 
 ! Then firft the Troglodytes were made to believe, that their 
 jfod was to be gained by rich donations ; or that his glory was 
 :oncerned in the worldly pomp and power of his priefts. A 
 emple, faid thofe priefts, is like a court: you mud gain the 
 avour of the minifters, or your petitions will no.t be received. 
 \s the people remembered that their new deity had once been 
 'king, this do&rine feemed plaufible enough : and the priefts 
 H 3 grew
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 ^^^: 
 
 ftill more zealous than the men in their Attachment to 
 part of devotion. By degrees the MfMe God, 
 whom their fathers had wormiped alone, was wholly forgot : 
 and all the vows of the people were paid to the idol, whofe 
 foperftuiousworfhip was better adapted to human paffions, and 
 to the gain of the priefts. Expiat.ons, luftrat.ons, facnfices, 
 proceffions, and pilgrimages made up the whole of religion 
 Thus the piety of the Troglodytes was turned afide from rea- 
 lity to form : and it was no longer a confequence, that a very 
 religious was a very boneft man. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 IN my lad letter I told thee how much the Troglodytes 
 were depraved in their notions, and in their manners, from 
 their idolatry. By the arts of the priefthood their corruption 
 encreafed every day : and virtue, inftead of being aflifted, was 
 overturned by religion it/elf. It was common for a Troglo- 
 dyte to day, " I will plunder my neighbour or the public: 
 " for the anger of our God may be appeafed by an offering 
 " made out of thefpoil." 
 
 Another quieted his confcience in this manner : " I am, 
 " indeed, a very great villain, and have injured my benefac- 
 " tor: but I am a conftant attender on all proceflions, ^and 
 '" have crawled thrice round the temple upon my knees.' . 
 
 A third confeffed to a prieft, That he had defrauded his 
 ward of an eftate. Give half of it to our order, faid the con- 
 feflfor, and we will freely endow you with the reft. 
 
 But the mifchief did not even ftop here. From fan&ifymg 
 trifles, they proceeded to quarrel about them : and the peace 
 of the fociety was difturbed, to know which impertinence 
 ftiould be preferred. This was the work of the priefts, who 
 took uport them to declare what was moft agreeable to their 
 
 God |
 
 LETTER XVI. 101 
 
 God: and declared it differently, as it happened that their 
 patflons or interefts required. Brit how flight foever the foun- 
 dation was, adilpute of this nature never failed to be warmiv 
 carried on. Nobody concerned himfelf about the morals of 
 another; but every man's opinions were enquired into with 
 the utmoil rigour :" and woe to thofe who held any that were 
 difliked by the ruling party ; for though neither fide could tell 
 the reafon why they differed, the difference was never to be 
 forgiven. An aged Troglodyte endeavoured to put a flop to 
 this pious fury, by reprelenting to them, " That their ancef- 
 " tors, who were better men, had no difputes about religi- 
 " on ; but ferved their God in the only unity required by 
 " him : a unity of affection." All the poor man got by this 
 admonition, was to be called an atheift by all the contending 
 leas, and after fuffering a thoufand perfections, compelled 
 to take refuge in another land. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 r pHE court had a deeper intereft in the eftablifhment of the 
 , A idolatrous priefthood among the Troglodytes, than was 
 | at hrit attended to, or forefeen. The very nature of their of- 
 ;nce particularly attached them to the crown. They were fer- 
 jvantsof a deified king : and it was no very great ftretch of 
 -their funa.on to deify the living monarch alfo. Accordingly 
 they preached to all the people with an extraordinary warmth 
 >t zeal, that the family then reigning was divine: that they 
 held the crown, not by the will of the fociety, but by a pre- 
 .sminence of nature. That to refift their pleafure was refift- 
 mg God: and that every man enjoyed his life and eftate by 
 their grace, and at their difpofal. In confluence of thefe 
 Brines, his /acred maje/Jy did juft what he thought fit. He 
 was of a martial genius, and had aftrong ambition to enlarge 
 bis territories. To this end he raifed a mighty army, and fell 
 upon his neighbours without a quarrel. 
 
 The Troglodytes loft their blood, and fpent their fubflance 
 :.o make their prince triumphant in a war which could not 
 ooffibly turn to their advantage: for the power and pride of 
 .'heir tyrant increafed with his fuccefs. His temper too be- 
 :ame fiercer and more fevere, by being accuftomed to flaugh- 
 H 3 ter
 
 10 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 terand devaftation: fo that his government grew odious W 
 his fubjeas. Yet the dazzling glory of his varies, and the 
 d v nity they were taught to find about h.m, kept them in 
 awTand fupported his\uthority. But Providence would not 
 fuffer him any longer to vex mankind. He per.fhed, with a 
 greJ Wtof his army, by the united valour ot many nation.- 
 who had allied themfelves againft his encroachments. Con- 
 tent with having punifhed the aggrcffor and author of 
 war they immediately offered peace to the Troglodytes, 
 upon condition, that all fhould be reftored which had been 
 taken from them in the former wars. That nation, hum- 
 bled by their defeat, very willingly parted with their con-' 
 quefts, to purchafe their repofe. 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 T TNDER their third king, who fucceeded to his father, up- 
 
 ^_J on a new notion of hereditary and divine right, the 
 
 fpirit of the government was wholly changed. He was young,. 
 
 and of a temper much addided to eale and pleafure ; yet bred 
 
 up with high conceits of kingly power, and a royal difregard 
 
 to his peoples good. There was a mixture of bigotry in hi 
 
 difpofition, which gave the priefts a great advantage over 
 
 him ; and as his predeceflbr had governed by them, they now 
 
 governed by him. The people too, in imitation of their 
 
 prince, foon contracted another character ; they began to po- 
 
 lim and foften all their manners. The young Troglodytes 
 
 were fent to travel into Perfia : they came back with new 
 
 dreffes, new refinements, new follies, and new vices. Like 
 
 a plague imported from a foreign country, luxury fprcad it- 
 
 felf from thefe travellers over all the nation. A thoufano 
 
 wants were created every day, which nature neither fuggeft- 
 
 ed nor could fupply. A thoufand uneafmefies were felt, 
 
 which were as unnatural as the pleafures that occafioned them. 
 
 When the minds of the Troglodytes were thus relaxed, their 
 
 bodies became weak. They now complained that the fum- 
 
 mer was too hot, and the winter too cold. They loft the ufe 
 
 of their limbs, and were carried about on the fhoulders ot 
 
 their flaves. The women brought their children with more 
 
 pain, and even thought tijemfelves too delicate to nurfe them: 
 
 ' they-
 
 LETTER XVHI. 103 
 
 they loft their beauty much fooner than before, and vainly 
 ftrove to repair it by the help of art. Then firft phyficians 
 were called in from foreign lands, to contend with a variety 
 of new di (tempers which intemperance produced; they came; 
 and the only advantage was, that thofe who had learned to live 
 at a great expence, now found the fecretof dying at a greater. 
 Such was the condition of the Troglodytes, when, by the 
 benefit of a lafting peace, they tafted the fweets of pfenty, 
 and grew pdite. 
 
 LETTER XVIIL 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE ancient Troglodytes were toobufy in the duties and 
 cares of fociety, to employ much of their thoughts in 
 fpeculation. They were fldlful in mechanics and agricul- 
 ture, the only fciences for which they had any ufe. Experi- 
 ence taught them the properties of many medicinal herbs, 
 roots, and plants, with which they cured the few ailments 
 1 that they were fubjedto in their ferene and temperate life. 
 
 At their leifure they amufed themfelves with mufic and 
 ! poetry, and fung the praife of the Divine Being, the b'eauties 
 'of nature, the virtues of their countrymen, and their own 
 i loves. They mewed a wonderful force of imagination in a 
 
 great number of fables which they invented, under mod of 
 which was concealed fome moral fentiment: but for hiftory, 
 they contented themfelves with fome fliort accounts of public 
 
 tranla&ions, drawn from the memory of the oldeft men 
 I among them, and writ without any art; having no party 
 idifputes, no feditions, no plots, no intrigues of ftate to re- 
 icord. The alteration of their government and manners pro- 
 duced a change aifo in this refped. A great many people 
 i withdrew themfelves entirely from the o;Hces of life, and be- 
 came a burthen to their family and country, under a notion 
 of ftudy and meditation. One fet of them very modeftly un- 
 dertook to explain all the fecrets of nature, and account for 
 her operations. Another left nature quite behind, and fell 
 to reafon about immaterial fubfhnces, and the properties of 
 (pints. A third profefled to teach reafon by a rule; and in- 
 
 H 4 vented
 
 104 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 vented arguments to confute common fenfe *. Thefe philofo-; 
 phers (for fo they (tiled themfelves) were to be known from 
 all mankind by a certain air, made up of bafhfulnefs and pre- 
 fumption. To diftinguifh themfelves from the vulgar, they, 
 forgot how to fay or do one common thing like other men. 
 
 This rendered their behaviour veryaukward, and they were; 
 confcious of it; for which reafon they came little into com- 
 pany: yet in private their pride fwelled to fuch a pitch, thatj 
 they imagined they were arrived at the very top of human 
 merit, and looked down with contempt on the greateft generals 
 and the beft fervants of the ftate. Among the various fpecu- 
 lations that this modern fafhion of philofophi/.ing produced,; 
 there were two more pernicious than the reft, and which? 
 greatly contributed to the corruption and ruin of the people. 
 One was, that vice and virtue were in themfelves indifferent 
 things, and depended only on the laws of every country : thei 
 other, that there was neither reward nor punifhment after 
 this life. It has already been obferved how many defects the 
 Troglodytes found in their laws, and how many quibbles 
 were invented to elude them. But ftill there was fome re- 
 ftraint upon their adions, while a fenfe of guilt was attended 
 with remorfe, and the apprehenfion of frittering in another 
 ftate. But by thefe two dodrines men were left at perfed 
 liberty to fin out of the reach of the law ; and virtue was 
 deprived of glory here, or the hopes of recompence hereaf- 
 ter. There was a third notion, lefs impious, indeed, but of 
 very ill confequence to fociety, which placed all goodnels 
 and religion in a reclufe and contemplative ivay of life. 
 
 The effect of this was, to draw off many of the befl and 
 xvorthieflmen from the fervice of the public, and adminiftra- 
 tion of the commonwealth, at a time when their labours were 
 moft wanted to put a ftop to the general corruption. It is* 
 hard to fay which was moft deftrucYive, an opinion that, like 
 the former, emboldened vice, or fuch a one as rendered 
 virtue impotent and ufelels to mankind 
 
 * This paflage is not to be underftood as defigning any re- 
 fleftion upon men of true learning, but as a cenfure of the dif- 
 ferent kinds of fa IJ e learning ; fuch as the fubtilties of metaphy- 
 ficsand logic, and the natural philofophy of Defcartes, and others, 
 who prelume to explain and account for all things by fyjle ms 
 drawn out of their own imagination. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 WHILE the principles of the people were thus depraved, 
 and their understandings taken off from their proper 
 'objects, the court became the centre of immorality andevery 
 kind of folly. Though flattery had been always bufy there, 
 yet the former kings, who were frequently at war, had been 
 ufed to a certain military freedom, and there were not wanting 
 men about them who had courage to tell them truth : but the 
 effeminacy of the prefent fet of courtiers took from them all 
 fpirit as well as virtue, and they were as ready to fuffer the 
 ibafeft things, as to ad the moft unjuft. The king, wholly 
 devoted to his pleafures, thought it Efficient for him to wear 
 the crown, without troubling himfelf with any of the cares and 
 (duties belonging to it. The whole exercife and power of the 
 government was lodged in the hands of a grand vizir, the firft 
 ;of that title which the Troglodytes had ever known. It feemed 
 toery ftrange to them at the beginning, to fee the royalty tranf- 
 ferred to their fellow-fubje&; and many thought it was deba- 
 ting it too much. The priefts themfelves were at a lofs how- 
 to make out that this fort of monarchy was divine: however, 
 (they found at laft, that the grand vizir was a god by office, 
 though not by birth. If this diftindion did not fatisfy the 
 (people, the Court and the priefls were not much concerned 
 about it. But a prime minifter was not the only novelty 
 thefe times produced. 
 
 The Troglodytes had always been remarkable for the man- 
 mer in which they ufed their women. They had a greater 
 lefteem for them than any other of the Eaftern nations. They 
 admitted them to a conftant fhare in their converfation, and 
 even entrufted them with their private affairs : but they never 
 ifufpeded that they had a genius for public bufinefs ; a'nd that 
 not only their own families, but the ftate itfelf, might be go- 
 verned by their diredion. They were now convinced of their 
 'miftake. Several ladies appeared together at the helm : the 
 'king's miurefs, the miftrefsof the vizir, two or three miftrefles 
 of the vizir's favourite officers, joined in a political confederacy 
 and managed all matters as they pleafed. Their lovers gave 
 nothing, and afted nothing, but by their recommendation and 
 
 advice.
 
 io6 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 advice. Sometimes indeed they differed among themfelves> I 
 which occafioned great confufions in the flate. But by the | 
 pacific labours of good fubjeds, and the king's interceflion, j 
 fuch unhappy divifions were compofcd, and bufmefs went 1 
 quietly on again. If there was any defect in the politics of 
 thefe female rulers, it was, that they could never comprehend 
 any other pointer purpofe in the art of government but fo 
 much profit to them/elver. The hiftory of the Troglodytes' 
 has recorded fome of their wife and witty faying?. 
 
 One of them was told, that, by the great decay of trade, the I 
 principal bank of the city would be broke. What care I ? 
 faid fhe, I have laid my money out in land. 
 
 Another was warned, that if better meafures were not 
 taken, the Troglodyes threatened to revolt : I am glad to hear 
 it, replied fhe; for if we beat them, there will fome rich' 
 confilcations fall to me. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 PAINFUL experience had, by this time, taught the Trog- 
 lodytes what their fathers were too happy to fufpect ; that 
 human nature was not perfect enough to be trufted with un- 
 limited power : they (aw an evident neceflity of retraining that 
 which had been given to their kings, as well for the dignity 
 of the crown itfelf, as for the good of the commonwealth. 
 
 The whole nation unanimously concurred in thisrefolution; 
 and that unanimity could not be refuted. They therefore con- 
 fidered by what means to reform their government, and did it 
 with equal vigour and moderation. It was decreed, that the 
 crown mould be preferved to the prince then reigning, out of 
 refpect to the family he was of; but that he mould wear it 
 under certain limitations, which divided his authority with 
 the fenate. 
 
 To prevent the mifchiefs that might arife from evil minifters, 
 and the too great power of any favourite, they declared, that 
 the minifters of the king were the fervants of the people, and 
 could not be protected by the court, if they were found dif- 
 loyal to the nation. 
 
 Under thefe wife regulations the mattered ftate recovered it- 
 felf again: their affairs were managed with more difcretion, 
 and many public grievances were redreffed. They thought, 
 that in limiting their monarchy, they had cut the root of all 
 
 their
 
 LETTER XXI. 107 
 
 icir evils, and flattered themfelves with a permanent felicity. 
 3ut they quickly difcovered that this new fyftem was not 
 vithout its inconveniencies. Very favourable opportunities 
 vere fometimes loft by the unavoidable flownefs of their coun- 
 jils, and it was often neceffary to truft more people with the 
 iecret of public bufinefs, than could be relied on with fecurity. 
 (There were many evils which the nature of their government 
 Obliged them to connive at, and which grew, as it were, out 
 >f the very root of it. Theabufeof liberty was infeparable, in 
 piany points, from liberty itfelf, and degenerated into a fliame- 
 jefs licentioufnefs. But the principal mifchief, attending on 
 ihis change, was the divifion of the fenate into parties. Dif- 
 ferent judgments, different interefts and pafiions, were perpe- 
 jually claming with one another : and by the unequal motion 
 bf its wheels, the whole machine went but heavily along. 
 | Yet one advantage arofe from this diforder, that the people 
 ivere kept alert, and upon their guard. The animofnies and 
 emulation of particulars, fecured the common- wealth : as in a 
 leraglio, the honour of the hufband is preferved by the malice 
 bf the eunuchs, and mutual jealoufies of the women. 
 
 Upon the whole, the Troglodytes might have been happy 
 In the liberty they had gained, if the fame public fpirit which 
 ;ftabli(hed, could have continued to maintain it. 
 
 LETTER XXL 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 'TT^HERE was in the fenate a certain man of great natural 
 I JL cunning and penetration, factious, enterprizing, verfed 
 n bufinefs, and above all, very knowing in the difpofition of 
 !he times in which he lived. This man came fecretly to the 
 xing, and entertained him with the following difcourfe. 
 I ' I perceive, Sir, you are very much caft down with the 
 
 bounds that have been fet to your authority : but perhaps you 
 1 have not loft fo much as you imagine. The people are very 
 i proud of their own work, and look with great fatisfaction on 
 
 the outfide of their new-ereted government; but thofe who 
 i can fee the infide too, find every thing too rotten and fuper- 
 
 ficial to laft very long. 
 
 * The two things in nature the moft repugnant and ineon- 
 : fiftent with each other, are the love of liberty, and the love 
 ;: of money. The laft is fo ftrong among your fubje6b, thatt 
 I it is impofllble the former can fubfift. I fay., Sir, they are 
 
 'not
 
 io8 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 not HONEST enough to be FREE. Look round the nation, 
 and fee whether their manners agree with their cotiftitution. 
 Is there a virtue which want does not difgrace, or a vice 
 which riches cannot dignify ? has not luxury infected all 
 degrees ofmen amongfl: them? which way is that luxury to 
 be lupported ? It mull neceflariiy create a dependence, whid|g 
 will foon put an end to this dream of liberty. Have you!' 
 mind to fix your power on a fure and laihng bafis ? fix it on 
 the vices of mankind : fet up private interelt againft public ; 
 apply to the wants sncl vanities of particulars; mew thofe 
 who lead the people, that they may better find their account 
 in betraying than defending them. This, Sir, is a fhort 
 plan of inch a conduct as would make you really fuperior to 
 all reftraint, without breaking in upon thofe nominal fecuritiet 
 which the Troglodytes are more attached to a great deal than 
 they are to the things themfelves. If you pleafe to trull: the 
 management to me, I fliall not be afraid of being obnoxious 
 to ihzfpirit of liberty ; for in a little while I will extinguifh 
 every fpark of it: nor of being liable to thejuftice of the 
 nation j for my crime itfelf mall be my protection. 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 
 From London. 
 
 THERE is a very pretty, fair-complexioned girl, who 
 lodges in a houfeover-againft me. She was always ihring 
 at me from her window, and fecmcd to folicit my regard by 
 a thoufand little airs that I cannot defcribe, but which touched 
 me ftill more than all her beauty. At lalt I became fo ena- 
 moured of her, that I refolved to demand her in marriage. 
 Accordingly I went to vifit her in form, and was received by 
 her mother, a widow gentlewoman, who defired very civilly 
 to know my bufinefs. 
 
 Madam, faid I, I have a garden at Ifpahan, adorned with 
 the fined flowers in the EafY: I have the Perfian jafmin, the 
 Indian rofe, the violet of Media, and the tulip of Canduhar: 
 but I have lately beheld an Englifh lillymore fair than all! 
 thefe, and far more fweet, which I defire^to tranfplant into my 
 garden. This lilly, Madam, is now in'your pofTeffion ; and I 
 come a fuppliant to you that I may obtain it. The old lady, 
 not conceiving what I meant, began to allure me very faith- 
 fully that I was miftaken, for ihe had neither rofe nor lilly be- 
 longing to her. 
 
 The
 
 LETTER XXII. 109 
 
 1 The lilly, returned I, is your lovely daughter, whom I 
 (orne to aflc of you for my wife. 
 
 | What do you propofe to fettle on her ? replied me. That 
 I the firft point to be confidered. 
 
 I will do by her very handfomely, anfwered I ; I will fettle 
 roon her two black eunuchs, an expert old midwife, and fix 
 v feven very adroit female flaves. 
 
 I Two blacks, anfwered me, are well enough, but I mould 
 pink two French footmen would be gcnteeler. 
 \ However, Sir, we will not quarrel about her equipage. The 
 [ueftion is, What prcvijion you think of making. 
 i Do not trouble yourfelf about that, returned I: She mall 
 ave meat enough, I warrant you, plenty of rice, and the 
 \&Jberbet in all Perfta. 
 
 i' Do not tell me of rice and Jberbet , faid the old woman ; I 
 iTc n\a& jointure you will give her ? 
 
 |i This word flopped me fhort ; for I did not know what a 
 M/i/wre fignified. At laft (he explained herfelf, by demanding 
 r me, how her daughter was to live if I mould die ? 
 [' I have an Indian wife, anfwered I, that intends to burn 
 LrfelfsLS foon as I expire : but I would not reqorrfmend that 
 Method to your daughter. 
 
 I How ! faid fhe, you are married then already ! Yes, faid 
 I in Perfia we are allowed to take as many women as we can 
 mp: and fome, I am fure, of the moft fafhionable men in 
 tiigland do the fame, only leaving out the ceremony. 
 
 It is a very wicked practice, anfwered fhe : but fince it is 
 Enir religion fo to do, and that my daughter's fortune is too 
 pall to get a hufband among Chriftians, I am not much averfe 
 
 give ^ r to you upon reafonable terms, becaufe 1 am told 
 B.U are very rich. 
 
 Ij She had fcarce fpoke thefe words, when my little miflrefs, 
 fao had been liftening to our difcourfe behind the fcreen, 
 feme out from her concealment, and told her mother, * That 
 r.f fo many women were to live together, me was fure there 
 Rvould be no peace in the family ; and therefore me defired 
 frier to infifr. on a good pin-money (that is to fay, as the term 
 iVas explained to me, a great independent allowance} in cafe 
 per hufband and fhe mould dif agree? 
 
 f I What, faid I, young lady, do you think already of fepa- 
 Jting ysur interefts from mine? and muft I be obliged to pay 
 Uy wife/er living ill -with me t as much as I fhould for living 
 ''II? 
 
 No
 
 no PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 No by Hali 1 will never wed a woman who is fo 
 
 determined to rebel againft her hufband, that (he articles tor it 
 in the very contract of her marriage 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THERE is at London a native of Aleppo who has refided 
 here fome years as a private agent for fome merchants of 
 that city, and paffes for a Jew. They call him Zabulon, but 
 his true name is Abdallah, the fon of Abderamen. He has 
 revealed himfelf to me: and I have contracted a great inti- 
 macy with him. There never was an honefter, more friend- 
 ly, or more valuable man : but he is as much a bigot to all the 
 Eaftern notions, and as much a ftranger to every thing in 
 England, as he was the firft hour of his arrival. For my 
 part, Mirza, I fet out with a refolution to give up all my he- 
 reditary prejudices, and form my mind to bear different opi- 
 nions, as my body to fuffer different climates. Nay, if I may fay 
 fo, I began my travels a good while before I went abroad, by 
 reading, enquiring and reafoning, about the manners and in- 
 ftitutions of other countries. I had lived long enough under 
 the yoke of an arbitrary government, to fee the mifery of it, 
 and value liberty. I am now come into an ifland where that 
 liberty is happily eftablifhed, and where I may learn to know 
 it by its effeds. This, Mirza, is the ftudy that I purfue, and 
 it demands the utmoft attention I can give. In abfolute mo- 
 narchies all depends on the character of the prince, or of his 
 minifters: and when that is known, you have little more to 
 learn : but in mixed governments, the machine is more com- 
 plex, and it requires a nicer obfervation to underftand how the 
 fprings of it are difpofed, or how they mutually cheque and 
 affift each other. 
 
 When I talk to Abdallah on this fubjed, he tells me it is 
 not worth my while to trouble myfelf about it : for that any 
 form of government is good if it be well adminijlered. But the 
 queftion is, which is mojt likely to be well adminijlered, that is, 
 which has -be/I fecured itfelf, by wholefome provifions and re- 
 ftraints againll the danger of a bad adminifiration. 
 
 LETTER
 
 t III 1 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 AS I was walking in the fields near this city the other 
 morning, a diibanded foldier fomewhat in years im- 
 plored my charity, and, to excite my companion, bared his 
 jbofom, on which were the fears of many wounds, all receiv- 
 ed in the fervice of his country. I gladly relieved his wants, 
 and being defirous to inform myfelf of every thing, fell into 
 difcourfe with him on the war in which he had ferved. He 
 told me he had been prefent at the taking of ten or twelve 
 iftrong towns, and had a fhare in the danger and glory of al- 
 moft. as many victories. How then, faid I, comes it to pafs 
 ,that thou art laid afide ? thy ftrength is indeed in its decline, 
 > but not yet wafted ; and I mould think that experience would 
 well fupply the lofs of youth. Alas! Sir, anfwered he, I 
 (have a good heart and tolerable limbs, but I want three in- 
 ches more of ftature : I am brave and able enough, thank 
 ,God, but not quite handfome enough for a foldier. 
 i How then didft thou ferve fo long, returned I ? In Flan- 
 ( ders, Sir, faid he, there were fome thoufands fuch ill-looking 
 ,fellows, who did very well in aday of battle, but would make 
 ,no figure at a review. Befides, I have no "vote for any county, 
 , Icity, or borough in England ; and therefore could not hope for 
 preferment in the army, were I ever fo .'<:// made. This laft 
 objection appeared to me very odd ; but of all the novelties I 
 ihave met within Europe, none ever furprized me fo much, 
 ; as that a qualification for military fervice mould be fuppofed 
 |to confift in fmug looks, and a certain degree of tallnefs, 
 more than experienced courage, and hardy ftrength. 
 
 If women were to raife and employ troops, I fhould not, 
 indeed, much wonder at fuch a choice; but God grant our 
 (invincible fultan an army of veteran foldiers, though there 
 i\vere not a man among them above five feet high, or a face 
 that would not frighten an enemy with the very looks of it 1 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THERE is a fet of people in this country, whofe activity 
 is more ufelefs than the idlenefs of a monk. They are 
 like thofe troublefome dreams which often agitate and per- 
 plex us in our deep, but leave no impreflion behind them 
 when we wake. I have fent thee an epitaph made for one of 
 thefe men of buftnefs, who ended his life and labours not long 
 ago. 
 
 Here lies < - who lived tbreefcore and ten years 
 
 in a continual hurry. He bad the honour of fitting in fix par- 
 liaments, of being chairman in twenty-foe committees, and of 
 making three hundred and fifty fpeeches. He attended conjlantlj 
 twice a week at the levees of twelve different minijlen oj ftate \ 
 and writ for and again/} them one thouf and papers. He compoj- 
 ed fifty new projects for the better government of the church and 
 flate. He left behind him memoirs of bis own life in Jive vo- 
 lumes in folio. 
 
 Reader, if thou Jbouldft be moved to drop a tear for the lofs of 
 
 fo CONSIDERABLE A PERSON, it Will be a SINGULAR/flWtff 
 
 to the deceafed ; for nobody elfe concerns bimfelf about it, or re- 
 members that fucb a man was ever born. 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 Went with my friend the other day to a great hall, where 
 all the courts of law were fitting together. Behold, faid 
 , the temple of juftice, the fanduary of privilege and right, 
 which our mightieft monarchs have not been able to violate 
 with impunity. Behold the loweft of our commons contend- 
 ing here with the higheil of our nobles, unawed by their dig- 
 nity or power. See thofe venerable fages on the bench, whofe 
 ears are deaf to folicitation, and their hands untainted with 
 corruption. See alfo thofe twelve men, whom we call the 
 jury, the great bulwark of our property and freedom. But 
 then caft your eyes on thofe men in black that fwarm on every 
 fide. Thefe are the priefts of the temple, who, like moft other 
 priefls, have turned their miniftry into a trade : they have per- 
 plexed, confounded, and encumbered law, in order to make 
 
 themiclves
 
 LETTER XXVII. 113 
 
 ihemfelves more neceflary, and to drain the purfes of the 
 people. I have heard, faid I, that the laws of England arc 
 ^vifely framed and impartially adminijlered. The old Gothic 
 pile we are now in, replied my friend, will give you a juft idea 
 pf their Jlruflure. The foundations of it are deep and very 
 lading ; it has flood many ages, and with good repairs may 
 [land many more ; but the architecture is loaded with a multi- 
 plicity of idle and ufelefs parts : when you examine it criti- 
 tally, many faults and imperfections will appear; yet upon the 
 jvhole it has a mighty awful air, and ftrikes you with reverence. 
 itThen as to the adminiftration of our laws, the difference be- 
 Iween us and other countries is little more than this, that there 
 ^Ihey fell juftice in the gr off, and here we fell it by retail. In 
 f^erfia the cadi pafles fentence for a round fumol money : in 
 ;riglatid the judge indeed takes nothing, but the attorney, 
 fid advocate, every officer and retainer on the court, raifes 
 jjjreLle that fum upon the client. The condition of juftice is 
 ike that of many women of quality: they themfelves are above 
 feeing bought, but every Jervant about them muft be feed, or 
 fcere is no getting at them. The difinterefted fpirit of the la- 
 $y is of no advantage to the fuitorj he is undone by the ra- 
 'iine of her dependants. 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 TOLD thee, in my laft letter, a converfation I had with 
 my friend upon the practice of law in this country. What 
 peculiar to us, continued he, in judicial proceedings is, that 
 Ijo difcretionary power is lodged either in the judge or the jury ; 
 I nit they are to direct and determine altogether by the letter of 
 me law. In France, and other parts of Europe, the judge is 
 ljufted with fuch a power to vary from the law, in certain 
 pints, according to the dictates of his confcience, and the 
 r.;afon of the cafe : but in England, confcience, reafon, right, 
 f'jid juftice are confined to the words of the law, and the eftab- 
 whed meaning thereof. No doubt this is productive of many 
 fjirdihips: particulars muft often fuffer by it ; yet, in the mam, 
 ! I is a wholfoine reftraint, and beneficial to liberty : for it is 
 rpnerally found, that in other countries, where they are not fo 
 J'nSly tied down, the judge's confcience is apt to depend too " 
 | uch on the king's, and the rule of equity is a very uncertain 
 Ujeafure, which paiTion, prejudice,or iutereft, eaneafily change. 
 I Thcfc
 
 
 H4 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 Thefe latter times have, indeed, a good deal departed from 
 the ancient methods of judicature in matters of property, by 
 encouraging applications to the Chancery ; which is a court of 
 equity, where he, who prefides in it, judges alone, without any 
 jury, and with a much greater latitude than other courts : but 
 whether more evil than good does not attend on this practice, 
 may well be queftioned. Thus much is certain, that caufes 
 arenotjbortenedby it, though one might have expected that 
 advantage from it at leaft. I have been told, faid I, that what- 
 ever time they may take in palling through that court, they 
 have often a further journey to make before they come to a 
 final decifion. It is true, replied he, they may be carried from 
 thence by an appeal to the houfe of lords, who judge in the laft 
 refort. And rf the conftitution had not lodged there a judica- 
 ture fuperior to that of the chancellory fo much of the property 
 of the fubjeft would entirely depend upon his opinion, that the 
 parliament would have reafon to put in again their claim to a 
 right, which they demanded in the reign of Edward III, of o- 
 minating this officer tbcmfehes. 
 
 When an appeal, faid I, is made to the lords, by what rules 
 do they judge ? If by no other than thofe of natural equity, I 
 can then underftand, that every Lord, who has common fenfe, 
 may be fuppofed to be capable of fuch a judicature: but if they 
 proceed by the rules of the courts below, and according to prin- 
 ciples, ufages, and determinations eftablifhed there, that is a 
 fcienceof which few are capable; and in that fenfe they cannot 
 be judges born. Two or three, at moft, of their body would 
 then have competent knowledge for the performing a duty, 
 which the conftitution of England expe6b from all. And when . 
 fofeiv are to judge, their being too much divided in affecTioh 
 or intercft, at fome jundures of time, at others their be- 
 mg too much united, might, I mould think, have very bad 
 confequences. But what if the chancellor himfelf mould 
 ever be the only lord in the boufe enough pofleffed of that know- : 
 ledge to lead the reft ? where would be then the ufe of appeal- 
 ing from his decrees ? To this my friend anfwered nothing, 
 and I thought that his filence wanted no explanation. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER xxvin. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahari. 
 
 From London. 
 
 A French gentleman was boafting the other day, in A 
 company where I was^ of the academies founded by 
 the late king for the fupport and reward of arts and fciences. 
 
 You have a pleafant way, faid he, here in England, of en- 
 couraging a man of wit. When he is dead, you build him a 
 fine tomb, and lay him among your kings ; but while he is 
 alive, he is as ill received at court, as if he came with a pe- 
 tition againft the miniftry. Would not the money you have 
 laid out upon the monuments of two or three of your poets, 
 lave been better beftowed in giving them bread when 
 ihey were living, and wanted it? This might have been 
 brmerly the cafe, replied the Englimman, but it is not fo 
 how. A man of true genius is at prefent fo much favoured 
 oy the public, which is the beft of all patrons, his works are 
 
 greedily bought up, and fuch regard is fhewn him every 
 fray, that he has no need to depend upon a court for protec- 
 
 1 ion, or for fubfiftence. 
 
 I And let me add, that the honours which are paid to a de- 
 eafed man of wit, have fomething in them more generous 
 Ind difinterefted, than penfions beftowed on flavim terms, 
 Ijnd at the price of continual panegyric. We have a very great 
 ypet now alive, who may boaft of one glory to which nd 
 lember of the French academy can pretend, viz. that Re- 
 liever flattered any man in power; but has beftowed immor- 
 Ijil praifes upon ibofe, whom, for fear of offending men in 
 mwer, if they had lived in France, under the fame circum- 
 no poet there would have dared to praife. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 rHERE is a Cbriftian dolor, who, at my firft arrival 
 here, took the trouble to vifit me very often, with no 
 the r view, as I could find, but merely to make a Cbriftiari 
 ' me ; in which defign he has been fingle hitherto, fuch a 
 :al being very much out of fafhion. 
 
 But, what is moft extraordinary, I was told the other day,- 
 
 jlat his preferment in tbecburcb had beer, lately fapped at the 
 
 I 3 inftance
 
 n6 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 inftance of the mufti of this city, on a fuppofition of his b 
 ing turned Mahometan, and that all the proof brought againft 
 him was the commerce he formerly had with me. 
 
 When I heard this, I waited on the mufti, and offered to 
 teftify that the doftor was a Chriftian, as far as I could judge 
 by all I faw of him, during the time of our acquaintance: 
 but he refufed to admit my teflimony in this cafe, becaufe, 
 as he faid, I was myfelf a mi/believer, and infifted on the doc- 
 tor's fuppofed apoftacy, as an undoubted fafir., which Jhocked 
 him beyond meafure. 
 
 If he is a mufulman, faid I, he muft be circumcifed. There 
 is a viftble mark of orthodoxy in our religion ; but I fliould be 
 glad to know what is the <vifible mark of yours. If it be meek- 
 nefs, or charity, or ju/tice, or temperance, or piety, all thefe 
 are moft confpicuous in the doflor : but I find that none of thefe 
 
 can prove him to be a Cbrijlian. 'What therefore is the 
 
 cbarafteriftic of his accufen? and bow do they prove them- 
 felves to be Chrijiians */ 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 TH E principles and practice of toleration prevail very 
 ftrongly in this country : I myfelf have felt the effedsof 
 it very much to my advantage. The better fort of people 
 are no more offended at the difference of my faith from theirs, 
 than at the difference of my drefs. The mob, indeed, feem 
 furprized at me for both, and cannot comprehend how it is 
 poffible to makefuchmiftakes, but they rather contemn than 
 hate me for them : and I have yet been affronted by nobody 
 but a drunken prieft, who denounced damnation againil me, 
 tor refufmg to pledge him, To the profperity of the church of 
 England, in a liquor forbidden by our law. 
 
 This has not always been the temper of the Englifli. Thev 
 have formerly waged war againft Mahometans, only becaufe 
 they were fo ; they have kindled fires againft heretics, though 
 what was herefy m one age has been orthodoxy in another: 
 nay they have involved their country in all 'the miferiesof 
 civil difcord upon points of no greater moment, than whether 
 a table ought to be placed in the middle of the church, oral 
 one end of it. 
 
 It is foppofcd this letter alludes to the objector, made to 
 the promotion of the late doctor Rundle. 
 
 Imufl
 
 LETTER XXX. 117 
 
 I muft own to thee, Mirza, there is nothing I abhor fo 
 much as perfecution : it feems to me no lefs ridiculous in its 
 'principles, than dreadful in its effects. One would think, that 
 !the great diverfity of opinions among mankind mould incline 
 ;men a little to fufpect that their own may pofiibly be wrong, 
 .efpecially in difputesnot very e(Te.ntial ; but topurkie all others 
 with rage and violence, inftead of pity or perfuation, is fuch 
 !a ftrain of pride and folly as can fcarce be accounted for from 
 jenthufiafm itfelf. I have read in a Spanifh author of a certain 
 madman who rambled about Spain with fword and lance, and 
 jv homfoever he met with in his way, he required to acknow- 
 ledge and believe, that his miftrefs Dulcinea del Tobofo was 
 [the handfomefl: woman in the world. It was in vain for the 
 I other to reply, that he had no knowledge at all of Dulcinea, 
 or had a particular fancy to another woman; the madman 
 made no allowances for ignorance or prejudice, but inftantly 
 i knocked him down, and never left beating him till he pro- 
 1 mi fed to maintain the perfections of the faid lady above all 
 her rivals. Such has been the conduct of many priefts and 
 .prieft-rid princes in propagating their fpiritual inclinations; 
 each had his feveral Dulcinea, and refolved that every body 
 
 fhould admire her as much as himfelf ; but as this was not 
 I eafily brought about, the controverfy was determined by force 
 
 of arms. Nay, though it happened that ail admired the fame, 
 Sthey would even quarrel about the famipn of her cloaths: and 
 j ; moft bloody battles have been fought to decide which colour 
 ! became her beft. Alas! Mirza, how abfurd is all this ! the 
 i beauty of true religion is fufficiently fhewn by its proper luf- 
 j: tre ; it needs no knight-errant to combat for it ; nor is any 
 
 thing fo contrary to the nature of affection as conilraint. 
 
 V.hoever is compelled to profefs a faith without conviction, 
 
 though it was but indifferent to him before, muft grow to 
 ' think it odious : as men, who are forced to marry where they 
 I do not approve, foon change diflike into averfion. I will end 
 I this fubje& with putting thee in mind of a ceremony which 
 K is celebrated once a year by the common people of Perfia, 
 ! in honour of our prophet Ali. There are two bulls brought 
 i forth before the crowd, the ftrongeft of which is called Ali, 
 
 and the weaker Omar. They are made to fight, and as Alt is 
 \ very fure to get the better, the fpe&ators go away highly fa- 
 j tisfied with this happy decifion of the difpute between us and 
 
 the heretical Turks. 
 
 Juftin this light I regard all religious wars. Whether the 
 
 combatants are two bulls or two bifhops, the cafe is exadly 
 
 the fame, and the determination juft as abfurd. 
 
 I 3 LETTER
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From Londo. 
 
 THERE is nothing more aftoniftiing to a Mufulman than 
 many particulars relating to the ftate of matrimony, as 
 it is managed in Europe : our pradiee of it is fo totally dif- 
 ferent, that we can hardly think it poflible for men to do or 
 fuffer fuch things as happen here every day. 
 
 The following ftory, which was given me for a true one, 
 will fet this in a very full light : I wifti thou mayeft find it as 
 entertaining, as I am furethou wilt find it new. 
 
 In the reign of Charles the firft, king of England, lived 
 two gentlemen, whofe true names I will conceal under the 
 feigned ones of Acafto and Septimius. They were neigh- 
 bours, their eftates lay together, and they had a friend/hip 
 for each other, which had grown up from their earlieft youth. 
 
 Acafto had an only fon, whom we will call Polydore, and 
 Septimius an only daughter, named Emilia. Though the boy 
 was but fourteen years old, and the girl but twelve, the pa- 
 rents were fo defirous of contracting an alliance between their 
 families, and of uniting the two bordering eftates, that they 
 married them before either was of age to confummate the 
 marriage, or even to underftand the nature of their contract. 
 As foon as the ceremony was performed, they fent the young 
 gentleman abroad, tofinifh his education. 
 
 After four years which he had fpent in France and Italy, he 
 was recalled by the news of his father's death, which made it 
 neceffary for him to return to England. 
 
 Emilia, who was now about fixteen, began to think he had 
 been abfent long enough, and received him with a great deal 
 of fatisfadion. She had heard a fine character of him, from 
 thofe who knew him in his travels: and when flie faw him, 
 his perfon was fo improved that me thought herfelf the hap- 
 pieft of women in being his wife. 
 
 But his fentiments for her were very different. 
 
 There was in his temper a fpirit of contradiaion, which 
 could not bear to have a wife impofed upon him. He com- 
 plained, that his father had taken advantage of his tender age, 
 to draw him into an engagement, in which his judgment coulcj 
 pofiibly have no part. He confefied that he had no objedions 
 to the perfon or charader of Emilia ; but infilled on a liberty 
 pf choice, and declared, that he looked upon his marriage to 
 be forced and null. In fhort, he abfolutely refufed to confum-
 
 LETTER XXXI. 119 
 
 mate, in fpiteof all the endeavours of their friends, and the 
 conjugal affe&ion of the poor young lady, who did her ut- 
 mort to vanquifh his averfion. -When (he found that all her 
 kindnefs was thrown away, the natural pride of her fex made 
 her defire to be feparated from him, and (he joined with him 
 in a petition for a divorce. The firrt parliament of the year 
 forty was then fitting : the affair was brought before them, 
 and it was believed, that a divorce would have eafily been ob- 
 tained at their mutual demand. But the bifhops oppofed it 
 with great violence, as a breach of the law of God, which 
 they laid would admit of no divorce, but in cafes of adultery. 
 They were anfwered, that the marriage was not compJeat ; 
 and that the ceremonious part, which was all that had paft 
 between them, might as properly be difpenfed with by the le- 
 gillature, as any other form of law. That the young gentle- 
 man's averfion was invincible, and inconfiftent with the obli- 
 gation laid upon him : that therefore it would not well become 
 the fathers of the church, to put him under a manifeft temp- 
 tation of committing adultery : and that nothing could be 
 imagined more unjuft, than to condemn the lady to perpetual 
 virginity, under the notion of a marriage, which, it was plain, 
 was a mere illufion. Thefe arguments feemed convincing to 
 all the world, except the biftiops; but they perfifted in their 
 ufual unanimity, and were fo powerful by the favour of the 
 court, that they carried their point in thehoufe of lords: and 
 the unfortunate Polydore and Emilia were declared tb be one 
 flefi, though no union had ever been between them, either 
 in body or in mind. The hufband immediately paid back his 
 wife's portion to her father; and firmly refolved, that from 
 that time forwards he would never fee her more. His natu- 
 ral obftinacy was irritated by the conftraint that was put upon 
 him, and he took a pride to (hew the world, that there was no 
 power, ecclefiaftical or civil, which could oblige him to at 
 like a married man againft his inclination. The poor lady 
 retired to a feat of her father's in the country, and endeavour- 
 ed, by long abfence from her hufband, to forget that he had 
 ever pleafed or offended her. Two years afterwards the civil 
 war broke out between the king and parliament. Polydore 
 was fo enraged againft the bifhops for obftru&ing his divorce, 
 that it determined him in the choofingof his party, and made 
 him take up arms againft the king. Septimiu?, the father of 
 Emilia, was as zealous a royalift, to which his hatred of Po- 
 lydore contributed as much as any thing; for it was hardly 
 poflible that two fuch bitter enemies ihould be of the fame 
 fide. In the courfe of the war, the king being worfted, the 
 I 4 eftates
 
 120 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 eftatesof many of his party were confifcated ; and Septimius 
 having been one of the moft active, was alfo one of thofe that 
 fuffered moft. He was compelled to retire into France with 
 what he could fave out of the wreck of his eftate ; and car- 
 ried with him his daughter, who was quite abandoned by her 
 hyiband and his family. 
 
 In the mean while, the army of the parliament began to 
 formitfelf into different factions. Cromwell, at the head of 
 the Independents, acquired by degrees fuch an influence, that 
 the Prefbyrerians were no longer a match for him : Polydore, 
 who was devoted to that feel:, threw up his commiffion in dif- 
 content; and happily for his reputation had no (hare in thofe 
 violent proceedings, which ended in the deftru&ion of the 
 king, and the ancient conftitution. 
 
 He continued quite una&ive for fome years; but at laft 
 growing weary of a life that agreed fo ill with his vivacity, he 
 determined to go and ferve in the Low Countries under the 
 great prince of Conde, who, in the year 1654, commanded 
 the armies of Spain againft his country. Two reafons inclin- 
 ed Polydore to this party; firft, thedefire he had to learn his 
 trade under a general of fo great reputation : and, fecondly, 
 becaufe Cromwell had refuted to enter into an alliance with 
 that prince, though moft agreeable to the interefts of England. 
 He found his highnefs emplovcd in befieging Arras, and was 
 received by him with high marks of efteern. During the fiege 
 lie often fignalized his courage, and fupported the opinion that 
 ws fpread all over Europe of the valour of the parliament^ 
 officers : but the marflial Turenne, with La Ferte and Ho- 
 quincourt, having attacked the befiegers in their lines, re- 
 lieved Arras, and would have deftroyed the Spanifh army, if 
 the prince of Conde had not faved it by a retreat, which was 
 one of thegreateft a&ionsof his life. In this battle Polydore 
 was taken prifoner,and fent to Paris with many other Spaniili 
 officers, to continue there till they mould be ranfomed or ex* 
 changed. In the journey he contracted a great intimacy with 
 the count d'Aguilar, brigadier under the count de Fuenfal- 
 dagna, and one of the firft gentlemen in Spain. As they tra>- 
 veiled together feveral days, they very naturally acquainted 
 one another with the principal incidents of their lives. Poly- 
 dore related to Aguilar the whole ftory of his marriage with 
 Emilia, and declaimed with great heat againft the folly of ty- 
 ing two people thus together, who wifhed nothing fo much 
 as to be loofe. 
 
 No doubt, faid the count, it is moft abfurd ; but, to far the 
 truth, I find nothing very reafonable in the whole affair of 
 marriage a:> we have made it. I do not know what it may bji 
 
 to
 
 LETTER XXXI. 121 
 
 to other men, but to me it feems horribly unnatural to be 
 confined to any fmgle woman, let her be ever fo agreeable. 
 
 If I had chojen a woman freely t anfwered Polydore, I could 
 be always conftant to her with pleafure ; but to have a compa- 
 nion/or life forced upon me, I had rather row in the gallies 
 than fubmit to it. 
 
 You are miftaken, my dear Polydore, replied the count, in 
 fancying it fo eafy to be conftant even to a wife of one's 
 town chufing. I have had fome experience of that kind, 
 and know that the firft choice is only good till we have made 
 a fecond. 
 
 To prove this to you, I need only give you the hiftory of 
 
 my amours That you may not think I am telling you a 
 
 romance, I will begin where romances always end, with the 
 article of my marriage. I was married at four and twenty to 
 a lady, whom I chofe for her beauty and good fenfe, without 
 troubling myfelf about her fortune, which was but fmall. The 
 three or four firft years that we lived together was the happicft 
 period of my life : I preferved all the ardour of a lover with 
 the freedom and tendernefs of a hufband. She loved me flill 
 more fondly than I did her; and if I had not left her till fhe 
 gave me occafion, I believe I fhould have been conftant to this 
 (day. But I was not able to hold out any longer. All her 
 i charms were become fo familiar to me, that they could not 
 I rnake the leaft impreffion : and I went regularly to her bed as 
 ! I did to fupper, with an appetite quite palled by too much 
 I plenty. In this dull way I drudged on for a tedious twelve- 
 month, till the fight of a relation of my wife's,who came oppor- 
 tunely to lodge in my own houfe, rouzed me out of my lethar- 
 gy. She was a beautiful creature of eighteen, juft taken out of 
 ! a convent to be married. She knew nothing ot the world, but 
 
 Jwd a natural quicknefs that went further than experience. 
 
 ; However, as there was fomething a little aukward in her ex- 
 terior carriage, the countefs d'Aguilar thought it proper to 
 keen her with her for fome time before her marriage, till fhe 
 
 had inftru&ed her how to behave herfel f in public. I thought 
 
 my inftru&ions might be of ufe to her as well as my wife's, 
 \ to teach her how to behave herfelf in private, and had the 
 
 good fortune to make them more agreeable. 
 
 She liked me better and better every leffon, and in propor- 
 
 tion, as her paffion increafed for me, fhe conceived a ftronger 
 averfion for the man who was defigned to be her hufband : 
 and indeed fhe had no great reafon to be fond of him, for he 
 
 i was a peevifh, ftupid, bigotted old fellow, who did nothing 
 day or night but pray and fcold. Her friends preffed the con- 
 el uiion
 
 122 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 clufion of her marriage ; and, as unwilling as fhe was to come 
 into it, me could not refift their importunities. Yet to c/bmfort 
 me, fhe very fairly let me know, that me would give 'her vir- 
 ginity to me in fpiteof all their teeth ; and moreover, that I 
 mould have it on the wedding night. I reprefented to her the 
 improbability of her performingy^ a promife atfucb a time ; 
 but fhe bid me trull to her management, and I mould be 
 fatisfied. 
 
 The wedding night came; and when the company was re- 
 tired, the bridegroom was furprifed to fee the bride diflblved 
 in tears. He begged to know the caufe of her affliction ; but 
 me would not tell him, except he fwore, that, when he knew 
 it, he would do his utmoft to remove it. 
 
 The poor man, in the vehemence of his love, allured her 
 that he would do any thing to make her eafy, that was not 
 contrary to the honour of a cavalier , or the injunctions of our 
 boly mother church. 
 
 No, faid me, the thing I require of you will recommend 
 you extremely to the churchy as it is only to give me leave to 
 accomplim a vow I made to the Blefled Virgin, in a fit of 
 ficknefs when my life was in great danger. 
 
 Heaven forbid, my pretty child, replied the don, that I 
 fliould hinder you from performing a facred vow, to the ha 
 zard of your foul. 
 
 Well then, faid fhe, I will own to you, that in my fright I 
 vowed, that if I could but get well again, and live to be mar- 
 ried, I would confecrate my wedding night to the Blefled 
 Virgin, by parting it in the bed of my waiting woman, the 
 virtuous Kabella. And this very morning while I flept, our 
 Lady appeared tome in a dream, and threatened me -with an- 
 other fit of ficknefs if I did not keep my word. 
 
 If it be fo, replied the hufband, there is no doubt but the 
 Virgin mufl beferved before me ; and fo, my dear, I wifh you 
 a good night. 
 
 Now you muftknow that the virtuous Ifabella was trufted 
 with all the fecrets of her miftrefs, and had gone between us 
 through the whole courfe of our amour. 
 
 Accordingly madam went to bed to her waiting woman, 
 who had taken care to inform me of this defign, and concealed 
 me in a clofet within her chamber; from whence, as foonas 
 every body was afleep, I was admitted to the place of Ifabella, 
 and received the full acquittance of a promife I little expecled 
 to fee performed. 
 
 The fingularity of this adventure fo delighted me, that I 
 could not help, in k the vanity of my heart, difcovering it to 
 
 the
 
 LETTER XXXL 123 
 
 the duke de 1'Infantada, the moft intimate of my friends 
 He was very thankful for the confidence I repofed in him, and 
 to reward me for it, betrayed it inftantly to my wife, whom, 
 itfeems, he had long made love to without fuccefs. As he 
 thought that the greateft obftacle to his defires was her fond- 
 nefs for me, he hoped to remove it by convincing her of my 
 falfenefs ; but though the news of it had like to have broke 
 her heart, it was not able to change it. 
 
 She reproached me in a manner that made my fault appear 
 
 much more inexcufable. I might complain, faid fhe, of the 
 
 aftrontyou have done my honour in debauching my relation- 
 
 but, alas ! lam only fenfible to the injury you have done my 
 
 .love. You are grown weary of me, and I know it is impof- 
 
 ible to regain your heart, fmce the fingle reafon of your dif- 
 
 hke muft ftill icontinue, which is, That I am your wife If 
 
 any part of my behaviour had offended you, I might have 
 
 Changed it to your fatisfadion; but this is a fault, which, in 
 
 ifpite of all my care, will grow worfe every day 1 endeavour- 
 
 ,ed to pacify her by affurances of my future fidelity ; and real- 
 ly I was fo affixed by her behaviour, that 1 ferioufly meant 
 :o keep my word. -But our inclinations are very little in our 
 power : my refolution foon yielded to the charms of the coun- 
 ;:efs Altamira, one of the handfomeft women about the court 
 nit the vaineft, the moft interefted, and the moft abandoned! 
 5he made it a point of honour to feduce me, out of a defire 
 Ho mortify my wife, with whom fhe had quarrelled upon fome 
 female competition of precedency or drefs. 
 ] Her avarice was equal to her pride, and fhe made me pay 
 tearly for her favours, though her hufband wasoneof the rich- 
 .it men m Spam. I hardly ever went to her without a prefent 
 fome kind or other, and my fortune began to fuffer by my 
 .xpence : yet I was fo bewitched to her, that though I heartily 
 .elpifcd her, I could not help loving her to madnefs. 
 One day when I came to fee her, after an abfence that had 
 d my defires to the higheft pitch, fhe received me with a 
 lennefs and ill-humour that tortured me beyond exprefllon. 
 :onjured her to acquaint me with the caufe of it, and fhe 
 Id me, * That the laft time fhe was at court, fhe had feen 
 tnecountefs d'Aguilar with a diamond necklace on, which I 
 had given her the day before : that my making fuch prefents 
 : to another woman, in the mic'ft of our intrigue, was an in- 
 luit fhe was determined not to bear ; and that fince I was 
 grown fo fond a hufband, fhe could not but make a con- 
 leience of -difturbing our conjugal felicity.' 
 
 I offered
 
 124 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 I offered her any fatisfa&ion fhe would afk : and the mali- 
 cious devil had the impudence to tell me, that nothing could 
 fatisfy her, but my taking away that necklace from my wife,- 
 and giving it her. I entreated her to accept of another of 
 twice its value ; but me replied, that her honour was concern- 
 ed, and, in fhort,fhe would have that, and that alone. Over- 
 come with her importunities, I went home, and ftole it for 
 her; but made her promife me folemnly to be very cautious 
 that my wife fhould never fee it in her poflefllon. 
 
 About three days after, word was brought me, that the. 
 countefs d'Aguilar had fainted away in the anti-chamber of 
 the queen, and was gone home in great diforder to her mo- 
 ther's the countefs of Pacheco. 
 
 I went immediately thither in fuch a fright, as convinced^ 
 me I loved her better than I thought I did : but imagine my 
 confufion, when fhe informed me, that {he had fainted at the. 
 fight of her own diamonds on the neck of the countefs Alta-> 
 inira. She added, that it was no myftery to her, nor to any- 
 body elfe, how that lady came by them ; and that, to fave 
 herfelf the mortification of anymore fuch public affronts, flitf 
 would no longer live with me as my wife, but leave me at 
 full liberty to pleafemyfelf,as my licentious inclination mould 
 direa. 
 
 I ufed my utrnoft eloquence to prevail on her to come home 
 to me again ; but fhe remained inflexible, and faid no more to 
 all my protections, but, that if her part conduQ: had not 
 been able to fix my heart, fhe dcfpaired of doing it for the 
 future. 
 
 After living without her half a year, I was ordered to my 
 regiment in Flanders, and was very glad of an occafion to leave 
 Madrid, where the regret of her feparation was fuch a pain 
 tome, that it entirely funk my fpirits. Since my arrival in 
 the army, I have writ to her three or four letters, but fhe dif- 
 dained to make me anyanfwer; and I have reafon to believe, 
 that her high fpirit has, by this time, got the better of her 
 love. 
 
 For my part, I endeavour to amufe myfelf the heft I can 
 with other women ; and I defire, my dear Polydore, that we 
 may be always reciprocal confidents of every intrigue that we : 
 engage in during our flay in France. 
 
 Polydore thanked him, and aflured him, that on his part he 
 fhould meet with no referve. When they came to Pans, his ! 
 firfl care was to enquire what was become of Septimius and 
 Emilia, whom he had heard no account of for many years, j 
 He was informed, that Septimius was dead, and his daughter 
 
 'gone
 
 LETTER XXXI. 125 
 
 gone from Paris. His curiofity made him write to his friends 
 in England, to a(k if me was there. They anfwered him, that 
 every body believed (he was dead in France, having received no 
 news of her a great while. Polydore was mightily pleafed 
 with this account, and fancied himfelf very happy in being a 
 widower, though he had given himfelf no trouble to fupport 
 the character of a hufband. The two friends had not refided 
 long at Paris, before they were exchanged for fome French 
 [officers who were taken prifoners by the prince of Conde. 
 They returned to the army ; but the feafon not permitting 
 tthem to come to any adion, they agreed to pafs the winter at 
 Bruflcls, in the court of the archduke. They had not been there 
 above a month, before Aguilar acquainted his Englifh friend, 
 ithathe had begun an intrigue with a French lady, who lived 
 in a very retired manner, which he believed was owing to her 
 iCircumftances: that he had feen her twoor three times,by means 
 of a woman at whofe houfe me lodged, whofe good offices he had 
 fecured by a handfome bribe. He added, that he would carry 
 Polvdore to fee her the next vifit that he made. Accordingly 
 they went together to Mademoifelle Dalincourt (for that was 
 I the name of Aguilar's new miftrefs). At their coming in, 
 ; Dalincourt feemed much furprized, changed colour, and was 
 [not able to (peak a word. The count, alarmed at her dilbr- 
 wer, fufpeded fome lover had been with her, and told her, 
 [with an air of difcontent, that he was forry he came at fo 
 (wrong a time. She endeavoured to make off her confufion, 
 pnd replied, that he was always very welcome: but that the 
 jgentleman he brought with him had fo much refemblance of 
 pa brother of her's who was killed in Flanders, that, at firft 
 |fight, (he could not help being (truck with it in the manner 
 jthey had feen : (he added, that if the gentleman was as like 
 her brother in mind, as he was in form, (he mould be migh- 
 tily pleafed with his acquaintance. She fpoke this with fuch 
 fen air of fincerity, that the count began to think his jealoufy 
 Iwas without foundation. 
 
 I After fome general difcpurfe, me applied to Polydore, and 
 piked him how long he had been engaged in the Spanifh fer- 
 ivice ? with many other more particular enquiries, which 
 feemed to intimate a defire to know him better. Polydore 
 i was very glad of it, in hopes to ferve his friend : and the count, 
 who had no fufpicions on that fide, did his utmoft to engage 
 them in a friendfhip which he imagined would turn to his ad- 
 Ivan tage. 
 
 ! At night, when the two gentlemen were at home together, 
 .Aguilar ailed his companion, what V- bought of Dalincourt's 
 
 perfon
 
 126 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 perfonand undemanding? Better of the laft than the 
 anfwered he, though both are certainly agreeable. I cannot; 
 help thinking, continued he, that her perfon is not quite new .. 
 to me ; but I cannot recoiled where I met with her, except, 
 it was at Paris, when I was there a boy.- You will do well 
 to improve your acquaintance now, replied the count ; and^ 
 to give you an opportunity of doing it, I will fend you there, 
 to-morrow to make my excufes for being obliged to hunt!, 
 with the archduke, inftead of waiting upon her as I intended. 
 I know, Jmy dear Polydore will employ all his wit and elo- 
 quence to fet his friend's paflion in the beft light ; and while 
 he is with her, I mail have lefs uneafinefs in being away. 
 Polydore promifed him all the fervices he could do him, but 
 he wiihed he had got a miftrefs too, to make the party even. 
 
 The njxt day he went to her, and faid a great deal in praife 
 of Aguflar, to difcover what me thought of him. She an- 
 fwered him with terms of a cold efteem, but nothing that 
 gave him the leaft encouragement to believe me was in love. 
 He then endeavoured to perfuade her of the violence of the ' 
 count's paffion for her ; but (he aflured him, that this was the 
 only fubjecl me did not care to hear him talk of. He return* 
 ed to his friend quite difcouraged at her manner of proceed- 
 ing, and told him there was nothing to be hoped for. The 
 count mewed him a letter he had juft received from his con- 
 fidante, the lady of the houfe; which advifed him not to 
 think of gaining Dalincourt by a timorous refpecl:; but to of- 
 fer her at once a handfome fettlement, which the ftraightnefs 
 of her fortune would make her liften to much more kindly 
 than me did to his fine fpeeches. 
 
 This indeed may do fomething, faid Polydore ; for I found 
 by her difcourfe, that me had been reduced, by a feries of mif- 
 fortunes, to a condition very much beneath her birth. In 
 conclufion, they agreed to make a trial whether me was to be 
 bought or not ; and Polydore was made the bearer of a letter 
 which contained a very liberal propofal. She read it, looked 
 at Polydore fome time without faying a word, and at laft 
 burft out into a flood of tears. 
 
 I thought, faid me, recovering her voice, that it had not 
 been in the power of my ill deftiny to make me more unhap- 
 py: but I now find, that my misfortunes have funk me lower 
 than ever I was aware of, fince two. gentlemen, whofe efteem 
 I wifhed to gain, think fo meanly*4f me, as to imagine me a 
 proper perfon to receive Juch a letter. But.know, Sir, that I 
 am as much a ftranger to infamy, as I am to happinefs ; and 
 have a fpirit fuperior to all the wrongs that your infolent f?* 
 
 can
 
 LETTER XXXI. 127 
 
 can put upon me. Had not you difgraced yourfelf by the 
 fcandalous employment of endeavouring to feduce me with a 
 dirty bribe, I mould have been happy in feeing you often 
 here; but muft nowdefire you to trouble me no more, and 
 to tell your friend, as my anfwer to his letter, that I would 
 foonergive myfelf toa footman, than/W/myfelf to a prince.-^ 
 Polydore was infinitely ftruck with this reception. Every 
 word fhe uttered pierced him to the heart ; and he looked up- 
 on her as a miracle of virtue, fuch as he never had any notion 
 of before. He returned to the count in great confufion, and 
 acquainted him with the ill fuccefsof his commifTion. Agui- 
 ! lar, more in love with her than ever, writ a mod fubmifllve 
 letter to beg her pardon ; but fhe inftantly fent it back un- 
 opened. When he found all his courtfhip was ineffedual, 
 he left BrufTels in defpair, and retired to a villa of one of his 
 friends, where he refolved to ftay till the opening of the cam- 
 paign. In the mean while Polydore, who continued ftill at 
 Pruflels, was in a fituation little eafier than his friend. Ma- 
 >demoilelleDalincourt took up all his thoughts: he repeated 
 to himfelf a thoufand times the laft words he heard her fpeak, 
 and admired the fpirit that appeared in them to a degree of 
 adoration. 
 
 Not being able to bear her abfence any longer, he fent to 
 beg that he might fee her once again, upon a bufmefs wholly 
 'relating to himfelf. She admitted him, and began the con- 
 Iverfation, by ftridly forbidding him to name the count in any 
 Jthing he had to fay to her. I have no inclination to name 
 ihim, replied he; for I would willingly forget that I ever 
 knew him. I am fenfible that I wrong him, in declaring to 
 you, that I love you more than life : yet, as his pafllon is 
 quite defhtute of hope, why fhould not I folicit you for a 
 heart to which he has no pretenfiona? but, be my condud 
 right or not in regard to him ; to you, madam, it mail ever 
 oe mod honourable. I come to offer you my whole fortune 
 jpon fuch terms as your virtue need not blufh at. I am a 
 ;,yidovver, and free to marry whom I pleafe : my eftate is fuf- 
 icientforus both, and I am happy to think it in my power, 
 o raife you to that rank which you were born .to. This, 
 nadam, is the only reparation by which I can atone for the 
 iffront Ididyourcharader;and, if you refufe to accept of 
 t, my defpair will be equal to my love. 
 
 The lady anfwered him with blumes, that me was highly 
 enfible of the fentiments he exprefled for her ; that me liked 
 us perfon, and admired his undemanding ; but that, to her 
 
 misfortune,
 
 i 2 8 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 misfortune, fhe was married already, and therefore could fay 
 nothing to his propofal. Good heaven, cried Polydore, you 
 are married ! and who then is your hulhand ? The moll un- 
 worthy of mankind, anfwered fhe : one, who has abandoned 
 me to the malice of my fortune, and does not know at this 
 time what is become of me, nor trouble himfelf about it. 
 He is, indeed, unworthy, replied the lover, who is poiTeffed 
 of fuch a treafure, and can neglect it. But, madam, employ 
 me in your revenge : command mv fvvord to pierce the mon- 
 fter's heart, and tear it from his bofom. No, faid fhe, your 
 fafety is more dear to me than the defire of revenge. All 
 I afk of you is, to fwear that you will never be like that huf- 
 band ; but continue to love me equally when you know me 
 better: upon this condition, I will grant you all the favours 
 which my duty will allow ; and, perhaps, your future con- 
 duel: may prevail upon me to throw oft all reftraint. 
 
 The happy Polydore fwore every thing (he defined, and (he 
 permitted him to fee her when he pleafed ; but, being in- 
 formed by him of the treachery of her friend at whole houfe 
 {he lodged, they agreed to make their appointments at ano- 
 ther place. 
 
 They continued this commerce for fome time without any 
 interruption, till the count d'Aguilar had notice of it from his 
 confident, who perceived it in Ipite of all their caution. 
 
 Never was rage equal to his at this difcovery. He writ to 
 Polydore, reproaching him with his breach of friend (hip in the 
 bittereft terms, and required him to meet him with his fword 
 behind the walls of a nunnery that was fituated about t\vo 
 leagues out of Bruffels. Polydore accepted of the challenge, 
 and met him at the place appointed : he attempted to jullir'y 
 himfelf, but the count had not the patience to hear him out. 
 They fought with great fury a good while, till the fortune of 
 Polydore prevailed, and the count fainted away with the lofs 
 of blood from two or three wounds which he had received. 
 The other feeing him fall thought him dead, and made off 
 ^'ith the utmoft precipitation. Juft at that inftant came by a 
 coach and fix, which was driving towards the nunnery : a lady 
 who was in it, feeing a gentleman lie weltering in his blood, 
 flopped her coach, and went to try if (he could aflift him. At 
 the fight of the face (he fetched a fcream, and fell upon the 
 body m a fwoon. Her fervants, concluding it to be fome 
 one (he was much concerned for, carried them both into the 
 nunnery, where the lady foon came to hcrfelf, and the count 
 alfo began to (hew figns of life, his fpirits being agitated by 
 the motion. He was immediately put to bed, and a furgeon 
 
 lent
 
 LETTER XXXI. 129 
 
 fent for, who declared his wounds to be dangerous, but not 
 mortal. While they continued uncertain of his cure, the lady 
 who brought him into the nunnery waited conftantly, day and 
 night, at his bed-fide, and nurfed him with a care that would 
 not yield to a moment of repofe. As her face was always 
 covered with a veil, he took her to be one of the nuns, and 
 toas aftonifhed at a charity fo officious. When he grew better 
 ihis curiofity encreafed, and he ardently prefled her to let him 
 know to whom he owed fuch great obligations. Are you a 
 nun, madam ? faid he : I hope you are not ; for it would afflict 
 me infinitely, if I was never to fee you more, after leaving a 
 houfe where you have done me fo many favours. The lady 
 for whom you fought, anfwered fhe, will make you foon for- 
 get the lofs of me ; and though I am not a nun, you will 
 lever fee me out of the limits of thefe walls. 
 
 How, madam ! faid he, was you not out of them, when you 
 bund me on the ground, and faved my life ? 
 ! Yes, replied me; I was returning from a vifit to a convent 
 .n the town : but I will take care not to ftir from hence while 
 i'ou are at Bruflels, becaufe you are the man in the world I 
 ,vou!d avoid. 
 
 \ Thisfpeechfo furprized him, that for fome time he was 
 notable to make her any anfwer. At laft he told her, that 
 per a&ions and her words entirely difagreed, and that he 
 iiould not think himfelf fo hateful to her as me faid, when he 
 tieflected how kindly {he had ufed him. 
 
 Thefe riddles (hall be cleared to you, anfwered (he, when 
 feou are perfectly recovered: till then content yourfelf with 
 snowing that I cannot hate you, but am as much determined 
 jo avoid you, as if I could. 
 
 1 Thus ended a converfation which left the count in a per- 
 .lexity not to be defcribed. 
 
 ' He faw her no more for a few days ; but when fhe heard 
 iaat his ftrength was quite returned, (he came to him one 
 i torning, and fpoke thus : 
 
 r ' If you will know who fhe is that was fo afflicted when 
 
 ) tyour life was in danger ; that nurfed you fo carefully in your 
 
 ; lillnefs; and is refolved to quit you for ever when you are 
 
 ) iwell ; think of your former gallantries at Madrid, of your 
 
 'prefent paffion for amiftrefs that defpifes you, and your in- 
 
 'gratitude to a wife that always loved you ; think of all this, 
 
 land you will not wonder any longer at my actions or my 
 
 Hvords. Yes, Aguilar, I am that wife, whofe fate it is to 
 
 be acquainted with all your infidelities, and to fmart -for all 
 
 'your follies. 
 
 K As
 
 136 .PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 As (he fatd this, flie lifted up her veil, and mewed the afto- 
 nifhed count a well-known face, which he little expeded to 
 have feen in Flanders. All the pafllons that can agitate the 
 heart of man, fliame, remorfe, love, gratitude, invaded his in 
 that moment. He threw himfelf at her feet, and with ma- 
 ny tears implored her to forgive him. 
 
 She raifed him, and allured him of her pardon, nay, more, 
 of her affe&ion : ' But my perfon,' faicl fhe, ' I am deter- 
 ' mined mail be ever feparated from you. I have had too 
 ' many proofs of your inconftancy, to hope that any obliga- 
 
 * tions can engage you : you will never be faithful to me alone, 
 
 * and I difdain to mare you with another. It is happinefs 
 ' enough for me that I have been the inftrument of preferv- 
 
 * ing your life, though you rifqued it for the fake of another 
 ' woman ; and all the return I afk of you is, to think of me 
 
 * fometimes with kindnefs, but never attempt to fee me more.' 
 Aguilar was on the rack to hear her talk in fo refolute a 
 
 ftyle ; but he flattered himfelf it was owing to her jealoufy of 
 inademoifelle Dalincourt. Being impatient to make her eafy 
 On that head, hedifpatched one of his fervants with a letter to 
 acquaint that lady with his recovery. He begged her earneft- 
 ly to come to him at the nunnery, and if poflible to bring her 
 lover along with her. Polydore had abfconded a few days, 
 till he heard that the count was out of danger, after which he 
 continued Very publicly his addrefles to Dalincourt. 
 
 While themeflenger was bringing them to the nunnery, 
 Aguilar demanded of his wife, by what accident me came in- 
 to Flanders ? 
 
 You know, faid me, that after my difcovery of your amour 
 with the countefs Altamira, /retired to my mother's houfe, 
 and remained there till your departure for the army. 
 
 Soon afterwards, I had the misfortune to lofe my mother ; 
 and what particularly aggravated my grief, was the knowledge 
 that her concern at your ill ufageof me had haftened her death. 
 
 Thefe afflidions made Madrid fo tineafy to me, that I could 
 not bear to flay in it any longer. Luckily about that time I 
 received a letter from my coufm donna Eugenia de Montale- 
 gre, a religious of this houfe, to inform me of her being elc&ed 
 abbefs. It inftantly occured to me, that no place could be 
 more proper for my retreat, than a monaftery of which fhe 
 was the head : fo, as foon as I could fettle my affairs, I left 
 Spam, and put myfelf into a penfion under the government 
 of donna Eugenia ; in which manner I have lived ever fince. 
 
 She had fcarce finifhed this account, When they were inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of Polydore and Dalincourt. Madam 
 
 d'Aguiiar
 
 LETTER XXXI. 131 
 
 d'Aguilar changed colour at the fight of her ; but her hufband, 
 embracing Polydore, aflured him, that he no longer looked 
 'upon him as a rival, but was glad to refign his miflrefs to a 
 friend who fb well deferved her. Then he related to him the 
 manner in which his wife had tended and preferved him, and 
 expreffed fo much gratitude, fo much love, that if any thing 
 could have fhakerv her refolution, this would certainly have 
 done it. Mademoifelle Dalincourt feemed much affected at 
 this relation, and told the countefs, (he was infinitely con- 
 cerned that me had been the innocent caufe of her hufband's 
 danger ; but that me hoped this accident would be a means 
 of making them happy for the future, and put an end to his 
 infidelities and her refentment. 
 
 My happinefs too, added me, is now at flake; and I have 
 need of your friendfhip to fupport me in a difcovery which I 
 tremble to begin, but which, in juftice to my honour, I am 
 obliged to delay no longer. 
 
 At thefe words fhe kneeled down, and taking hold of Poly- 
 dore's hand : * Behold,' faid fhe, ' my dear hufband, in that 
 Dalincourt, whom you have fworn to love eternally, behold 
 your wife Emilia, that Emilia, whom you left a bride and 
 a virgin at fixteen ; whom you imagined dead, and who will 
 not live a moment, if yourefufe to acknowledge and receive 
 her. 
 
 ' You cannot now complain that I am a wife impofed upon 
 you ; you chofe me freely out of pure inclination ; our pa- 
 rents had nothing to do in it; love only engaged us, and 
 from love altine I defire to poffefs you. This is my claim ; 
 and if you are willing to allow it, I am bleffed to the height 
 of all my wifhes.' 
 
 Polydore gazed on her with a filent admiration. He exa- 
 mined every feature over and over, then throwing his arms 
 round her neck, and almoft ftifling her with kifles : ' Are 
 * you really Emilia (cried he), and have I confirmed my for- 
 ' mer marriage by a new choice, by a choice which I never 
 will depart from, and which makes me the happieft of men ? 
 ' O my angel, what wonders do you tell me! how is it pof- 
 ' fible that I find you here at Bruffels, when I thought you 
 ' in your grave ? Explain all this to me, and let me know 
 how much I wronged you formerly, that I may try to re- 
 pair it all by my future conducV 
 
 Count Aguilar and his lady joining with him in a defire to 
 know her hiflory, fhe related it as follows. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 The HISTORY o/POLYDORE and EMILIA. 
 
 YOU may remember, Polydore, that as foon as we were 
 parted, I went to live in the country with my father, 
 being afhamed to appear in public after the affront your ca- 
 pricious averfion had put upon me. 
 
 My pride was deeply wounded ; but, with fhame I own it, 
 my love was the pafllon that futfered moft. I was bred up to 
 confider you as my hufband ; I had learned to love you from a 
 child, and your perfon was fo wonderfully agreeable, that I 
 could not look upon you with indifference : nay, fuch was my 
 partiality in your favour, that I could not help admiring you 
 for your fpirit in aliening the freedom of your choice, and 
 juftified you in my heart for a proceeding which openly I was 
 obliged to difapprove. In this wretched ftate of mind I re- 
 mained fome years, till the unfortunate event of the civil war 
 deprived my father of his eftate, and drove him out to feek re- 
 fuge in a foreign country. We fettled at Paris, where, with 
 three or four thoufarrd pounds, which we found means to car- 
 ry off, part in money, and the reft of it in jewels, we main- 
 tained ourfelves well enough in a private way, which pleafed 
 my melancholy better than any other. In this retreat, where 
 we faw no company, but two or three French women that 
 lodged in the houfe with us, I amufed myfelf with learning 
 <he French tongue, which I had fome knowledge of before I 
 came to France ; and by fpeaking nothing elle for three or 
 four years, I became fo very perfect in it, that it wasdirHcuIt 
 to difcover by my accent that I was not born at Paris. I men- 
 tion this, becaufe it has fince been of ufe to me, in making me 
 pafs mote eafily upon you for the French woman I perfonat- 
 d. The third year of our refidence at Paris, my father be- 
 came acquainted with a widow-lady, the true madam Dalin- 
 -court, whofe name has fince made me full amends for many 
 injuries I have to charge her with in the (equel of my ftory: 
 This woman was a native of Brabant, but married a French 
 gentleman, who dying young left her in very narrow circum- 
 ftances. She had a fitter much younger than herfelf, but not 
 fo handfome, who lived with her at Paris. 
 
 My father was at that time near threefcore, and the widow 
 turned of forty ; yet her charms were ft ill powerful enough 
 to engage him in a paflion for her, which nothing but dotage 
 could excufe. It went fo far that fhe drew him in to marry her, 
 to fettle upon her three thoufand pounds, leaving me no more 
 than the worth of my own jewels, which fcarce amounted to 
 a thoufand. But her avarice was not fatisfied with all this. 
 
 There
 
 LETTER XXXI. 133 
 
 There was a French, nobleman who had long courted me for 
 amiftrefs, and not finding me fo complying as he wifhed, 
 thought the bed way was to buy me of my ftep-mother, whom 
 he knew to be capable of fuch a bargain. He offered her a 
 prefent of two thoufand crowns to introduce him by night to 
 my apartment. The wicked creature accepted of his bribe, 
 and taking her opportunity when my father was gone into the 
 country, brought him late one night into my chamber, where 
 (he imagined he would find me fait afleep. But it happened 
 I that land mademoifelle Du Frefne, the fifter of Dalincourt, 
 I had been engaged in reading a romance, which kept us up 
 j beyond our ufual hour ; and as her room was on the other fide 
 of the houfe, not to difturb the family in paffing through, fhe 
 went to bed with me. The romance run fo ftrongly in my 
 head that I could not deep for thinking of it ; and peictivir.g 
 that the moon (hone very brightly, I got up, flipped on a night- 
 gown, and went out to .take a walk in a little garden that lay 
 I contiguous to my chamber. I had not been there above half 
 an hour before 1 heard Du Frefne call out for help ; and com- 
 t ing in to her afliftance, faw my lover ftruggiing with her 
 i at fuch advantage, that I was alrnoft afraid 1 came too late. 
 I joined my cries to hers, and the noife we made fo alarmed 
 the marquis, that he thought it beft to retire as foon as poffi- 
 ble ; efpecially when he difcovered his miftake, and that my 
 infamous ftep-mother had put him to bed to her own ugly 
 lifter inftead of me. 
 
 But, to be revenged of her for what he took to be a defign of 
 
 : impofmg upon him, he revealed to us the part me had in this 
 
 i affair, and bid me tell her, that he did not think the enjoyment 
 
 of mademoifelle Du Frefne worth a quarter of the money he 
 
 had given her. After making thisconfeffion he went off, and 
 
 [. was hardly got fafeout of the houfe, when two or three of our 
 
 fervants came in to us to know what was the matter. The ftory 
 
 i foon reached my father's ears ; and I was fo angry at my ftep- 
 
 .' mother for her intention againlt my honour, that, in the heat 
 
 i of my paifion, I told him all that the marquis had revealed,. 
 
 and Du Frefne confirmed it : which imprudence we had both 
 
 iireafon to repent of. My father was fo fhocked and afflicted 
 
 : at it, that it threw him into a fever, which proved mortal. 
 
 He was no fooner dead, but his loving widow turned her filler 
 
 hand me out of doors, and it was with great difficulty that I 
 
 carried off my money and necefTary apparel. In this diftrefs, 
 
 which was the greatefl I ever knew, Du Frefne propofed to 
 
 : me to go with her to Bruffels, where fhe had an old aunt whom 
 
 v :ihe expected ibmething from, and that would be willing to 
 
 K 3 receive
 
 i 3 4 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 receive us. I gladly accepted of her propofal, my fpirit being 
 too high to return to England in the condition I was reduced 
 lo. When we came to Bruflels we found that her aunt was 
 dead, but had left her the beft part of what me had, which 
 amounted to areafonable fubfiftence. We agreed that I mould 
 board with her under the name of mademoifelle Dalincourt, 
 and pretend I was a relation of her former brother-in-law ; 
 fhe not caring to fay any thing of the laft alliance, which had 
 been attended with fuch ill confequences to us both. Upon 
 this foot I lived with her very quietly, till the count d'Aguilar 
 found me out, and, by corrupting my mercenary friend, ob- 
 tained more frequent accefs to me than I defired. 
 
 You remember the diiorder I was in when he brought you 
 firft to fee me. I knew you inftantly ; for my love had traced 
 your image too ftrongly in my mind to be effaced by any 
 length of time ; whereas your indifference quickly made you 
 lofe all memory of me, and the alteration of almoft fifteen 
 years had changed my perfon entirely from what it was when 
 you faw me laft. I thought I fhould have died with the fur- 
 prife, and was going, as loon as I could fpeak, to difcover 
 myfelf to you; but perceiving that you did not remember 
 me, I checked myfelf and invented a pretence to cover my 
 confufion. It ftruck me, that I might poifibly make fome ad- 
 vantage of the dilguife in which you faw me": at leaft, I was 
 fure of the fatisfa&ion of converfing with you freely, and 
 knowing what had happened to you fince our parting. When 
 you came to me again as the confident of the count d'Aguilar, 
 it was no fmall revenge and pleafure to me, to fee you igno- 
 rantly helping another man to debauch your own wife ; and 
 I could have found in my heart to have let you fucceed in 
 your friendly mediation, as a punifhment for the injuries yoa 
 had done me : but my virtue foon rejected that temptation, 
 and I thought of nothing but how to gain your efleem. 
 
 When you brought me the bale propofal of count Aguilar, 
 it appeared to me fuch a mark of your contempt, that I fully 
 refolved not to fee you any more. But when you expreffed a 
 repentance of that fault, and declared a refpeclful paffion for 
 me, even to the offering me marriage, I yielded to the dictates 
 of my love, and admitted you to all freedoms but one. Thafc 
 I told you your future conduct might obtain ; and I believe, 
 laid foe bluming, you will hardly now have the fame reluct- 
 ance to accept it as you had formerly. But though I had thus 
 engaged you by your prom ife, and ftill more by your inclina- 
 tion, my happinefs was far from being fixed. While the 
 name of Emilia was concealed, I could not tell how the know* 
 
 ledgi
 
 LETTER XXXIL 135 
 
 ledge of it might afFeft you. It was ftill in your power to 
 make me miferable, by being angry with my innocent de- 
 ceit ; but fince you have been fo good to approve it, and ac- 
 knowledge me for your wife, I mall make it my whole ftudy 
 and ambition to deferve that title, and never think of my 
 part misfortunes, but to inhance my prefent happinefs. 
 
 Thus Emilia ended her narration, and received the com- 
 pliments of Count Aguilar and his Lady, who both exprefled, 
 the higheft joy at her good fortune. 
 
 Polydore, on his fide, endeavoured to perfuade the Countefs 
 to follow the example of Emilia, and be reconciled to her huf- 
 band. She anfwered him coldly, that (he had had too much 
 experience of the temper of the count, to truft to a fudden fit 
 offondnefs, which would wear itfelf out in a few months : 
 that fhe was neither fo young, nor fo handfome now, as be- 
 fore their feparation ; how then could fhe flatter herfelf, that 
 he would like her better when fhe was really lefs amiable ? 
 that what fhe had done for him might fecure his efteem, but 
 me had received abundant proof that his efteem could but ill 
 fecure his love. I know, faid (he, the weaknefs of my heart : 
 were I to live with him again, I mould be jealous of him, 
 sven though he did not give me caufe ; and that would cer- 
 tainly make us both unhappy. It is better for me to leave 
 him to his pleafures, and endeavour to fecure my own tran- 
 quillity, by retiring from a world which lam unfit for. 
 '; Polydore, finding it in vain to argue with her, and admiring 
 i :he greatnefs of her mind, took his leave of the count, and 
 returned to Bruflfels, where his marriage with Emilia was 
 > infummattd almofl twenty years after it was contra fled. 
 
 LETTER XXXIL 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 Went yefterday with one of my acquaintance to fee a friend 
 of his, who has a houfe about twenty miles from London, 
 ie had formerly been a citizen and tradefman, but growing 
 ich on a fudden by fome lucky hit in the more profitable trade 
 f flock-jobbing, he as fuddenly let up for a judge in architec- 
 are, painting, and all the arts which men of quality would be 
 bought to underftand, and built this houfe as a fpecimen of 
 is learning. When we came in, though it was in the midft of 
 /inter, we were carried into a room without a fire-place j and 
 'hkhlooked, if poffible, ftill colder than it/*//. I fuppofe, 
 K 4 faid
 
 I 3 6 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 faid I, this Jlone '-vault that we are in, is defigned to be tbebu- 
 rying-place of the family ; but I fhould be glad to fee the rooms 
 in which they live,, for the chillnefs of thefe walls is infuppor- 
 table to a Perfian conftitution. 
 
 I fee, faid my companion, that you have no tafle, or elfe 
 you could not be cold in afaloon fo beautiful as this. 
 
 Before I had time to make him any anfwer, the mafter of 
 the houfe came in ; but, inftead of carrying us to a fire, as I 
 hoped he would, he walked us about all his vaft apartments, 
 then down into the offices under ground, and laft into a gar- 
 den, where a north-cart wind, that blew very keen from off a 
 heath to which it was laid open, finifhed what the falcon had 
 begun, and gave me a cold, which took away my voice in the 
 very inftant that I was going to complain of what he made me 
 fuffer. At length we ended our obfervations, and fate down to 
 dinner, in a room where, by good fortune, the rules of archi- 
 tecture allowed us to be warm : but when the meat was ferved 
 I was in great confufion not to know how to aflc for any difh 
 of all I faw before me ; for it feems the gentleman ate in the 
 French way, and nothing came up to his table in its natural 
 form. My uneafmefs was ftill greater, when, upon tatting of 
 five or fix different com pofit ions, I found they were all mixed 
 with the flem of * hogs, which I could not touch without pol- 
 lution. 
 
 After lofing my dinner in this manner, I was entertained 
 all the evening with a converfation between the gentleman of 
 the houfe and another man (who, they told me, was an archi- 
 tect) fo (luffed with hard words and terms of art, that I could 
 not underfhnd one part in five of it. They talked much of cer- 
 tain men called, virtuoft, whom, by the near relation their title 
 bore to />/*, I took at. firft to be a fet of rigid moralijls: 
 but, upon enquiry, Idifcovered that they were a company of 
 fdlers, eurwcbs, painters, builders, gardeners ; and, above all, 
 gentlemen that had travelled into Italy, who immediately came 
 home perfect virtuo/i, though they went out the dullefl' fellows 
 in the world. This order of men, which is pretty numerous 
 (as I could collet from the difcourfe of tbefe two adepts) aflume 
 a fort of iegijlative authority over the body of their country men c 
 they bid one man pull down his houfe, and build another, 
 which he can neither pay for, nor inhabit; they take a diflike 
 to the furniture of a fecond, and command him to change it 
 for a different one more expenfive and lefs commodious ; they 
 order a third to go and languifti at an opera, when he had ra- 
 
 * Larded. 
 
 ther
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 137 
 
 ther be hallooing in a bear-garden : it is even feared they will 
 take upon them to decide what fort of woman every man fhall 
 be in love -with, and prefcribe a particular colour of eyes and 
 ; hair for the only object of vniverjtl inclination, 
 
 I defired to be informed whether tbifjurifdiftion had been an- 
 
 \ dent in this kingdom, having met with no traces of it in hiftory? 
 
 No, faid he, it is fo modern, that all the laws of it are changed 
 
 once in every feven years ; and that which before was the only 
 
 \ thing right, becomes at once a high crime and mi/demeanor. 
 
 Upon the whole it appears to me to be a kind of epidemical 
 madneft, and I am afraid to return to my own country, for fear 
 I fhould carry it with me thither, as thofe who have been in 
 Italy bring the infection along with them into England. 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THERE is a lady's houfe where I often pafs my time, tho* 
 I have very little intimacy with her ; becaufe it is really 
 ibeing in a public place, and making a vifit to half the town. 
 The firft time I went thither I congratulated her on the prodi- 
 gious number of her friends, and told her, that Ihe muft cer- 
 tainly bepoflefled of moil extraordinary perfections, toattracl: 
 
 fuch a variety of people, and pleafe them all alike. But I 
 
 r Toon found that in all that crowd of vifitants, there was hardly 
 one who came thither on her account, but that their reafonfor 
 coming was the fame as hers for receiving them, becaufe they 
 :'. had nothing elfe to do. 
 
 The laft time I was there I met a gentleman, whofe charac- 
 Her I was flill a ftranger to, though I was very well acquaint- 
 i 'ed with his face. 
 
 I want to know (faid I to a lady who fate next me) what is 
 
 i the merit of that gentleman over-againft us, which recom- 
 
 ' mends him fo much to all the world ? It feems to me that he 
 
 ); does nothing, fays nothing, means nothing, and is nothing ; 
 
 >'et I always fee him in good company ! 
 
 His charader, faid (he, may be comprehended in very few. 
 words he is a. good-natured man. 
 
 I am mighty glad to hear it, returned I, for I want fuch a 
 nan very much : there is a friend of mine in great diftrefs, 
 ind it hes in his power to do him fervice. 
 
 No, faid me, he is of too indolent a temper, to give him- 
 elf the trouble of ferving any body. 
 
 Then
 
 
 138 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 Then what ilgnifies his good-nature? anfweredl; or how- 
 do you know that he has any ? 
 
 During this dialogue between us, the reft of the company 
 had turned their difcourfe wholly upon fcandal ; and few re- 
 putations were fpared by them, that were good enough to be 
 thought worth attacking. , 
 
 The good-natured man fate filently attentive, and with great 
 humanity let them abufe his abfent friends, as much as they 
 thought fit. 
 
 When that was over,he began to entertain us with his forrow 
 for the death of a noble perfon, who, he faid, had been his pa- 
 tron and benefactor : but, methought, he talked of it mightily 
 at bis eafe; and the lady, who had given me his character, 
 whifpered me, that, notwithstanding his obligations and love 
 to the deceafed, he was now making court to bis worft enemy, 
 as obfequioufly as he ever had to him. 
 
 At that initant there came in a certain colonel, who, as foon 
 as he faw my gentleman, ran up to him, and embracing him 
 very tenderly, my dear Jack, faid he, thou malt be drunk with 
 me to-night. 
 
 You know I have been ill, faid the other gently, and drink- 
 ing does not agree with me. 
 
 No matter for that, replied the colonel, you muft pofitively 
 be drunk before you fleep; for I am difappointed of my com- 
 pany, and will not be reduced either to drink by myfelf, or to 
 go to bed fober. 
 
 The good-natured man could not refift fuch obliging foli- 
 citations : he kindly agreed to the propofal, and all the room 
 exprefled their apprehenfions, that his good-nature would be 
 the death of him fome time or other. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan, 
 
 From London.' 
 
 I HAD, lad night, fo extraordinary a dream, and it made 
 fuch an imprelTion upon my mind, that I cannot forbear 
 writing thee an account of it. 
 
 I thought I was tranfported, on a fudden, to the palace of 
 Ifpahan. Our mighty lord was fitting on a throne, the fplendor 
 of which rny eyes could hardly bear : at the foot of it were his ; 
 emirs, and great officers, all proftrate on the ground in adora- 
 tion, and expecting their fate from his commands. Around 
 him flood a multitude of his guards, ready to execute any 
 
 orders
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 139 
 
 orders he mould give, and ftriking terror into the hearts of all 
 his fubjeas. My foul was awed with the majefty of the fcene, 
 find I laid to mylelf, can a king of England compare himfelf to 
 this? can he, whofe authority is confined within the narrow- 
 pounds of law, pretend to an equality with a monarch, whofe 
 jower has no limits but his will ? 
 
 I I had fcarce made this refle&ion, when, turning my eyes a 
 jfecond time towards the throne, inftead of [hefopbt, I faw an 
 futiucb feared there, who feemed to govern more defpotically 
 pan he. The eunuch was foon changed into a woman, who 
 Elfo took the tiara and the fword. To her fucceeded another, 
 jnd then a third: but, before fhe was well eftablifhed in her 
 teat, the captain of the guards that flood around us marched 
 bp to the throne and feized upon it. In that moment I looked 
 Rnd beheld thefopbi lying ftrangled on the floor, with his vizir 
 ;!nd three ofhis/K//*mw. Struck with horror at this fpedacle, 
 Heft the palace, and going out into the city, faw it abandoned 
 b the fury of the foldiers, who pillaged all its riches, and cut 
 me throats of the defencelefs inhabitants. From thence I 
 Nade my efcape into the country, which was a wade unculti- 
 | ated deiert, where I found nothing but idlenefs and want. 
 
 O, faid I, how much happier is England, and how much 
 ; /rearer are its kings ! Their throne is eftablifhed upon juftice, 
 !/nd therefore cannot be overturned. They are guarded by the 
 pflFedions of their people, and have no military violence to fear. 
 |f hey are the moft to be honoured of all princes, becaufe their 
 overnment is bell framed to make their fubjeds rich, happy, 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan, 
 
 From London. 
 
 HAD fome difcourfe to-day with an Englim gentleman, 
 who has an affedation of being thought a great phikfopber^ 
 s pretenfions to it confift in nothing elfe but refining away all 
 ie happinefs of his life. By a great force of reafoning, he is 
 rived at a total difrelijh rtbimfelf, and as complete an hdif- 
 jence to others. I am quite weary of living, faid he to me : I 
 .ivegone through every thing that bears the name of pleafure, 
 : d am abfolutely difgufted with it all. I have no tafte for 
 ; 'e common amufements of wine, women, orpl.jy, becaufe [ 
 ye experienced the folly of purfuing them : and as for bufi- 
 |l it appears lo me, to be more ridiculous than any of the 
 
 three.
 
 i 4 o PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 three. The hurtle of the town difturbs my quiet, and in th 
 country I am dying of the fpleen. I believe I [hall go with 
 you into Perfia, only to change the fcene a little ; and when 1 
 am tired of being there, take a dofe of opium, and remove to 
 the other world. 
 
 I hope, Mirza, that thou and I mall never know what it i; 
 to be fo wife ; but make the bell of thofe comforts and delight; 
 which nature has kindly beftowed upon us, and endeavour to 
 diffufe them as wide as poffible, by the practice of thofe vir- 
 tues from which they flow. 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 ^1 ^HERE is another gentleman of my acquaintance, who 
 JL is a pbilofopber, but of a fpecies very different from him 
 I defcribed to thee in my laft. 
 
 He is poflefTed of a confiderable eftate, which his friends are 
 as much maftersof as he. His children love him out of a 
 principle of gratitude, by far more endearing than that of du- 
 ty ; and his fervants confider him as a father, whom it would 
 be unnatural for them not to obey. 
 
 His tenants are never hurt by drought or rain, becaufe the 
 goodnefs of their lord makes amends for the inclemency of 
 the fky. 
 
 The whole country looks gay about his dwelling, and you 
 may trace all his footileps by his bounties. 
 
 Is it not ftrange (I have often heard him fay) that men fhould 
 be fo delicate as not to bear a dtfagreeable pitfure in their 
 houfes, and yet force every face they fee about them to wears 
 cloud of uneafinefs and dilcontent? Is there any objeft fo 
 pleafing to the eye, as the fight of a man whom you have 
 obliged, or any mufic fo agreeable to the ear, as the voice of 
 one that owns you for his benefactor ? 
 
 He has alfo a deep fenfe of religion ; which is fo far from 
 carting a gloom over his mind, that it is to that chiefly he owes 
 his conltant ferenity. Were there no reward (faid he tome 
 in our laft converfation) for virtue after this life, a wife man 
 would praftife it ror its own beauty and reafonablenefs &" 
 yet the wifeft man in that cafe might be unhappy from the 
 perverfity of accidents; but he who adds to the pleufures .<& 
 virtue, the hopes of religion, has no excufe for finking under 
 any misfortune ; and without the extravagance or prutofophi- 
 cal pride may always find a relburcc in hu> mind as much fu- 
 
 perioi
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 141 
 
 erior to all human events, as the infinite extent of eternity 
 beyond the (hort bounds of human duration. 
 Such are the notions of this man concerning bappinefs ; and 
 is probable they are not very wrong, for he himlelf is never 
 
 it cf humour, nor is it pofiible to be fo;n bis company. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 SELIM to MIR-ZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 Went laft night with my friend to fee a lady, whofe houfe 
 
 is the favourite refort of the moft agreeable people of both 
 
 ses. The lady herfelf received me with a good breeding, 
 
 itch I found was the refult of good fenfe: me treated me 
 
 nftranger that came to fee, not like a monfler that came to 
 
 Jeen ; and feemed more defirous to appear in a good light 
 
 rfelf to me, though a Perfian, than to fet me in a ridiculous 
 
 iie to her company. The converfation turned upon various 
 
 bjefts, in all which me bore aconfiderable, but not a petu- 
 
 nt or overbearing part; and with modefty (hewed herfelt a 
 
 nftrefs of moft of the living languages, and not unacquaint- 
 
 '. with ancient and modern hiftory. 
 
 |j The reft of the company had their due mare of the conven- 
 tion, which was carried on with fpirit and good manners, 
 (jne gentleman in particular diftinguifhed himfelf by the fu- 
 iriority of his wit, accompanied with fo much delicacy and 
 ilitenefs, that none who heard him felt themfelveshurt by that 
 He-eminence, which he alone feemed not to be confcious of. 
 His wit was all founded on good fenfe; it was wit which a 
 .;ifian could comprehend aseafily as an Englifhman ; where- 
 l^moft that I have met with from other men, who are am- 
 lious of being admired for that accomplimment, is confined 
 ityt only to the tafte of their own countrymen, but to that 
 ^ their own peculiar fet of friends. When this gentleman 
 ^d entertained us for an hour or two, with the jufteft, as well 
 jjlivelieft remarks, both on perfons and things, that I ever 
 iardj he went away ; and to comfort us for lofinghim, there 
 iijme in the man of great good-nature, whom I defcribed to 
 ;>ee in one of my former letters. 
 
 This courteous per/on, hearing all of us very warm in praife 
 ithe other's wit, joined in with us, but ended his panegyric, 
 'tha plain, though indirect infmuation, that there was a fa- 
 i..iii turn in it, which rendered it very dangerous, and that 
 
 the
 
 14 2 PERSIANLETTERS. 
 
 the gentleman could not poftbly be fo witty, but at the ex- 
 pence of his goodnature. 
 
 I could not help being quite angry at fo impertinent and ill- 
 grounded a refledion, on a man for whom I had conceived a 
 great efteem, and defired to know why he fuppofed him to be 
 ill-natured, only becaufe he was not dull. Has he abufed, 
 faid I, any worthy man ? Has he defamed any woman of good 
 character ? If all the edge of his wit is turned on thofe who 
 are juflly the objecls of ridicule, his wit is as great a benefit to 
 private life, as the fword of the magiftrate is to the public. 
 
 My gentleman, fearing to be drawn into adifpute, which he 
 could not carry on without expofing the fecret envy of his 
 heart, changed thedifcourfe: and for the reft of his ftay among 
 us, which was not very long, kept a moft ftrit filence, and 
 gave no other indications of life, but that of laughing when- 
 ever any body laughed ; and nods and geflures of approbation 
 to whoever fpoke. 
 
 The moment he was gone, I told my friend, that I did not 
 much wonder lo fee that gentleman in mixed company, where 
 it was enough that he gave no offence ; but that, in a fele& 
 fociety as this was, he mould be received only from a general 
 notion of his good-nature, which was fupported by no one 
 a&ion of his life, feemcd to me entirely unaccountable : for, 
 even allowing his pretenfions to that title, 1 was furprized that 
 fuch a character fhould be fo fcarce, as to make it fo very 
 valuable. 
 
 I can eafily conceive, continued I, that the notorious reverfe 
 of that virtue would be a good realon to turn a man out oj com- 
 pany: but I cannot think, that the polTeflion of that virtue, 
 deftitute of all others, is a reaion for letting him into it. 
 
 If you will keep my fecret, replied my friend, I will tell 
 you the whole truth ; but if you dilcover me, I fhall pafs for 
 ill-natured myfelf. You muft know then, that there are about 
 this town ten thoufand fuch fellows as this, who, without a 
 grain of fenfeor merit, make their way by reciprocally com- 
 plimenting one another. Their numbers make them formi- 
 , dable, efpecially fupported as they are by the fair fex. They 
 fneak into good company like dogs after fome man of fenfe, 
 whom they leem to belong to; where they neither bark nor 
 bite, but cringe and fawn : fo that neither good-manners nor 
 humanity will allow one to kick them out, till at Inft they ac- 
 quire a fort of right by fnfferance. They preferve their charac- 
 ter, by having no will of their own, which in reality is owin 
 to th.ir having no diftinguilhing judgment. They are al 
 pofleiled of lome degree of cunning, and their paifior.s are
 
 LETTER XXXVH. 143 
 
 too low and dull to break in upon it, or hurry them into 
 the indifcretions of men of parts. Bcfides, they know that they 
 are in a conftant ftate of probation, where the leaft tranfgreflion 
 damns them: they carry no compenfation about them ; for 
 afiive faults will not be borne, where there are at bed but ne- 
 gative virtues. The fmall number of people of fenfe are 
 forced to fubmit in this, as in many other filly cuftoms, to a 
 tyrannical majority, and laviih undefervedly the valuable cha- 
 racter of good-nature, to avoid being as unjuftly branded with 
 that of ill-nature themfelves. 
 
 Might not another reafon be given for it ? anfwered I. Are 
 not -vanity and Jelf-love the great caufes of not only the tole- 
 ration, but the privileges thefe people enjoy ? and does not fe- 
 curity from cenfure, certainty of applauie, orthedifcoveryof 
 an eminent fuperiority, prevail with thole of the beft parts to 
 really like what they only pretend tq fuffer, the convention of 
 thofe of the worft ? 
 
 Very poflibl}', replied my friend ; at leaft the vanity of the 
 wifeft is certainly the comfort of the weakeft, and feems to be 
 iven as an allay to fuperior underftandings, like cares to fu- 
 Derior ftations, to preferve a certain degree of equality, that 
 Providence intended among mankind. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 Had yefterday the pleafure of a fpeaacle, than which no- 
 
 I thing is more flnkmg to a foreigner, becaufe he can have 
 
 right idea of it nowhere elfe: I faw the three eftates of the 
 
 mgdom aflembled in parliament. The king was on his throne 
 
 o all his majefty : around him fate the peers in their different 
 
 Mm; at the bar flood the fpeaker of the commons, attended 
 
 y the houfe. Accuftomed as I am to the fublime court of our 
 
 reat emperor, i beheld this fcene with much more reverence- 
 
 Ot it was reverence mixed with love. Now, and never till 
 
 ovv, d.d I fee a true image of civil government, fhe fupport 
 
 id perfed.on of human fociety. A tyrant's court is no more 
 
 any to be compared with this aflembly, than a lion's den 
 
 ) a temple. Here fuch laws, as, after mature and free de- 
 
 ation, have obtained the concurrence of the noble* and 
 
 wwsn/, receive the royal affertt ; nor can any bind the people 
 
 iKfc have not the authority of that triple fanfiion A gen- 
 
 sman who came with me made me obferve, that when the 
 
 commons
 
 , 44 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 commons fent up the fubfidies granted to the king, he thanked 
 them for them, as an acknowledgment, that he had no power 
 to raife them without their confent : anciently, added he, <up- 
 plies of money, and redrefs of grievances went together ; but, 
 fuch is the preient happinefs of our condition, that we have 
 more money than ever to beftow, and no grievances at all to 
 be redreffed. 
 
 I have heard, faid I, that when thefe gifts are moft liberal, 
 they have a natural tendency, like plentiful exhalations drawn 
 from the earth, to fall again upon the place from whence they. 
 
 He was going to anfwer me, when the houfe rofe, and put 
 an end to my enquiries. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THIS morning I received a vifit from the gentleman un- 
 der whofe condud I had been at the houfe of lords. Af- 
 ter fome general difcourfe upon that fubjed, he afked me what 
 I thought of their nobility ? 
 
 I am too great a ftranger, anfwered I, to have formed a 
 right opinion of what they are ; but, if you pleafe, I will tell 
 vou freely what 1 think they mould be. 
 
 An Englifh nobleman fhould be a ftrenuous aflertor of the 
 privileges of the people, becaufe he is perpetually intrufted 
 with the care of them; and, at the fame time, defirous to 
 preferve the jwft rights of the crown, becaufe it is the fourcc 
 from which his honour is derived. 
 
 He mould haveaneftate that might fet him above depen- 
 dance, and employ the fuperfluities, if fuch there were, not 
 ip improving luxury, but extending charity. 
 
 He fhould make his dignity eafy to his inferiors, by the 
 modeftyandfimplicity of his behaviour ; nor ever think him- 
 felf too great for the loweft offices of friendfhip and huma- 
 nity. 
 
 He mould claim no privilege that might exempt him from 
 the ftrideil rules of jultice; and afford his protection not to 
 men obnoxious to the law, but to every modefl virtue and ufe- 
 ful art. 
 
 The character you have drawn, replied my friend, though 
 it be rare, yet is not imaginary: fome there are to whom ftill 
 it may belong ; and it eminently exitls in a young nobleman, 
 
 grandfon
 
 LETTER XL. 145 
 
 grandfon and heir, to a late illuftrious commander, whofe 
 name even in Perfia is not unknown. 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London- 
 
 THE Englifh are bled with fome privileges which no other 
 nation now in the world enjoys in fo high a degree. One 
 is, that they cannot be long deprived of their liberty upon fuf- 
 picion of any crime, not even of treafon itfelf, without being 
 brought to a tryal: another is, that they cannot be tortured, 
 either to force a confeflion of what is laid to their charge, or 
 a difcovery of their accomplices. It is a wonderful thing that 
 even in many free ftates thefe two effential rights of human 
 nature have not been fecured : for can any thing be more re- 
 pugnant to natural judice, than to punifh without proof of a 
 crime? or is there a greater punifhment than long imprifon- 
 ment, and the infliction of violent pain, either of which is 
 i worfe than death to an innocent man ? From both thefe evils 
 ', the Englifh are guarded by their excellent laws, which have 
 alfo provided that none (hall undergo the vexation and fhame 
 of a tryal in a criminal caufe without the confent of twelve of 
 their countrymen, who are called the grand jury ; nor can 
 fentence be pad upon them but by the unanimous voice of 
 twelve more of their equals, with as ftrong provifions (in 
 jtrials for treafon efpecially) againft any influence of fear or 
 'corruption, as human laws are able to frame. To thefe glo- 
 rious privileges is added the right of being taxed by none but 
 their reprefentatives, of advifing the king in a parliamentary 
 manner upon all matters of government, of enquiring into the 
 conduct of minifters, of arraigning the guilty, and taking them 
 'out of the fhelter of the throne, liberty of fpeech in parlia- 
 ;ment, and liberty of writing and publifhing with all decent 
 freedom what every man thinks upon public affairs. When 
 I confider all thefe advantages, and reflect on the ftate I am 
 in when in my own country, expofed upon the lighted fuf- 
 .picion to be (hut up in a prifon, to be tortured there, and, 
 if ever brought out from thence, to be tried by a partial judge, 
 jpoffibly by my accufer himfelf, to have my eftate taken from, 
 me at the emperor's pleafure, having no means of redrefs a- 
 gainO him, or his minifters, and deprived of the power even 
 to complain ; when I refle6t on all this, I cannot but look 
 upon the lowed fubje& of England with envy, and with re- 
 fpect, as I fnould on a being of an order fuperior to mine. 
 L But
 
 , 4 6 PERSIANLETTERS. 
 
 But on the other hand, were there an Englishman wicked 
 and foolifti enough to give up the leaftof thefe rights for any 
 temptation of fortune or power, I mould look down upon 
 him, however exalted by titles or wealth, with more contempt 
 than upon the loweft flave in my feraglio : for if unwilling 
 JJavery be the worft of misfortunes, voluntary fe rvitude is the 
 bafeft of crimes. 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London; 
 
 AB O U T a fortnight ago I went in company with one 
 of my acquaintance, to fee a place in this city, called 
 the Exchange, which is the general rendezvous of all the mer- 
 chants not only of England, but the whole trading world. \ 
 never yet came into an affembly with fo much refpecl as into 
 this. Thefe, faid I, to my friend, are the mod ujeful, and 
 therefore the moft honourable of mankind. They are met here 
 to carry on the common happinefs; their gains are the ad- 
 vantage of the public ; and their labour makes the eafe of 
 human life. 
 
 I had fcarce fpoke thefe words, when he carried me out into 
 H neighbouring alley, where I alfo faw feme bufy faces, but 
 which looked, methought, very different from the others. 
 Thefe, faid he, are a fort of traders, whofe whole btifinefs is 
 confined within the compafs of this alley, where they create 
 a kind of el>b and flow, which they know how turn to good 
 account ; but which is deftruftive to all trade, except their 
 own. Nay, they have fometimes raifed fuch violent tempefts 
 here, that half the wealth of the nation has been funk by it. 
 
 They are then a fort of magicians, anfwered I. 
 
 A moft diabolical one truly, replied he; and what is moft 
 wonderful, the majiers of the art have the fecret to render 
 themfelves inviftble. Though they are always virtually pre- 
 fent here, they never appear to vulgar eyes : but fome of 
 their imps are frequently difcovered, and by their motions, 
 the ililful in this traffic fteer their courfe, and regulate theic 
 ventures. 
 
 While he was faying this to me, there came up to us an 
 ill looked fellow, and afked if we had any flock to fell. 
 
 My friend whifpered me in the ear, that this was an imp. 
 I darted ; called on Mahomet to protect me, and made the 
 beft of my way out of the alley. 
 
 LET-'
 
 [ '47 1 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London^ 
 
 THAT Abdallah, whom I mentioned in a former letter, 
 is gone from England ; thou wilt be affe&ed with the 
 virtue of the man, when I tell thee the caufe of his depar- 
 ture. He fent laft week to defire I would come to him ; I 
 came, and found him opprefied with the deepeft forrow. Ah, 
 Selim, faid he to me, I muft leave thee; I muft go and dif- 
 charge my duty to the beft of fathers : I muft give my all for 
 him to whom I owe it. At thefe words he put a letter into 
 my hand, which he had juft received the day before: I found 
 by it, that his father, who was a merchant, in a voyage from 
 Grand Cairo to Aleppo, was taken by a cruizer of the ifle 
 iof Malta, and being unable himfelf to pay his ranfom, had 
 writ to his fon to do it for him. Thou knoweft, faid he to 
 .me, that I am not rich : to raife the fum demanded for my 
 father's liberty, I muft fell all my effe&s, and leave myfelf 
 without the means of a fubfiftance, except what my labour 
 can procure me. But my own diftrefs is not what concerns 
 me moft : the fear of poverty cannot fright me from my duty ; 
 I only grieve for the fate of my poor wife, whom the ruin 
 3f my fortune will expofe to indigence and fhame. It is for 
 ner fake that I have fent for you ; and I conjure you by all 
 pur friendfhip, by the prophet and the God whom we adore, 
 not to refufe me the firft favour I ever afked. When he had 
 "aid this, he opened the door of another room, where I faw 
 i beautiful woman in the Turkifti habit, who, with a mo- 
 lefty peculiar to our Eaftern ladies, endeavoured to conceal 
 lierfelf from my regards. Come hither, Zelis, faid my friend, 
 l>nd fee the man whom I have chofen to protect you : fee him 
 ivho muft fhortly be your hufband in the room of the unfor- 
 .unate Abdallah. Then turning to me, and weeping bitterly, 
 This, cried he, O Selim, is the grace for which I am a fup- 
 liant : permit me to give her to a man, who I know will ufe 
 ier well ; I am refolved to divorce her this very inftant, ac- 
 ording to the power allowed me by our law, if you will con- 
 snt to take her for your wife ; nor could the fophi himfelf 
 ke you a prefent of greater value. If the charms of her 
 erfon are not fufficient to recommend her to you, know that 
 er mind is ftill fairer and more accompliftied. I brought her 
 nth me into England three years ago, in all which time, 
 ie has hardly flirred out of my houfe, nor defired any com- 
 L 2 pany
 
 I4 8 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 pany but mine. It is impoftible to be happier with a wife, 
 than 1 have been with her : nothing (hould ever have pre- 
 vailed on me to part with her, but the defire to feparate her 
 from my misfortunes, and to procure her a maintenance agree- 
 able to her birth and merit, which I am no longer able to 
 provide for her myfelf. 
 
 He had fcarce ended, when the lady, tearing her hair, and 
 beating the whiteft bread I ever faw, implored him not to 
 think of a reparation, more painful to her than any mifery 
 that poverty could reduce her to. 
 
 After many paflionate expreffions of her love, (he declared, 
 that me would accompany him to Malta, and beg her bread 
 with him afterwards, if it was neceflary, rather than flay be- 
 hind in the mofl affluent condition. But he pofitively re- 
 fufed to let her go, and infilled upon giving her to me, as 
 the only expedient to make him eafy. To carry her with 
 me, faid he, would be expoflng her to fuch dangers and wants, 
 as I cannot endure even to think of. But lefs can 1 bear the 
 thought of leaving her here, in a nation of infidels, among 
 women who have given up modejly^ and men who profefs to 
 make -war upon it where-ever it is to be found. Your houfe 
 is the only afylum to which her virtue can fafely retire. As 
 your wife, (he will be protected from any infult, even in this 
 land of licentioufnefs. To thefe words of Abdallah, Zelis 
 teplied with many arguments, but with more tears. I con- 
 tinued fome time a filent witnefsof this extraordinary difpute; 
 but at lad, feeing him determined to divorce her, I told him, 
 I would accept her as a treafure committed to my hands, not 
 for my own ufe, but to fecure it for my friend : that (he 
 fliould remain with me under the character of my wife, but 
 1 would always be a ftranger to her bed, and if at his return 
 he found himfelf in circumftances fufficient to maintain her, I 
 would reftore her back ag^in to him untouched ; or in cafe, 
 they ftiould mutually defire it, carry her with me to my fera- 
 glio in the EafK They were both much comforted with this 
 aflurance, and Zelis confented to (lay with me, flnce Abdallah 
 commanded it. The poor man embarked for Malta the fol- 
 lowing week, with his whole fortune on board for his father's 
 ranfbrr, and left me fo touched with his filial piety, that I 
 made an offer to pay part of it myfelf; but he told'me I had 
 done enough for him, in taking care of what was deareft to 
 him upon earth, and refufed any further fuccour from me. . 
 N. B. This Story is refumed, in Letter LXXVII1. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ '149 1 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Lately fell into difcourfe with an Englishman, who has 
 well examined the conftitution tit his country: I begged 
 him to tell me what he thought of the prefent ftate of it. Two 
 principal evils, anfwered he, are making way for arbitrary 
 power, if the court fhould ever be ; inclined to take advantage 
 of them, viz. the abufe of our wealth, and the abufe of our 
 eloquence. The lafl is, if pofiible, more mifchievous than the 
 firft ; for it feduces thofe whom money could not corrupt. It 
 is the mod pernicious of all our refinements, and the moil to 
 be dreaded in a free country. To fpeak truth, is the privilege 
 of a freeman; to do it roundly and plainly, is his glory. Thus 
 it was that the antient Romans debated every thing that con- 
 cerned the common-wealth, at a time when they bed knew 
 how to govern, before Greece had infected them with rheto- 
 ,ric : as nothing was propounded to them with difguife, they 
 eafily judged what was moft for their honour and interefr. 
 But the thing called eloquence here is of another kind. It is 
 lefs the talent of enforcing truth, than of impofmg faifhood ; 
 it does not depend on a true knowledge of the matter in de- 
 bate, for generally it aims at nothing more than a fpecious ap- 
 pearance : nor is wifdom a neceffary quality in the compofi- 
 tion of an orator ; he can do without it very well, provided he 
 has the happy facility of difcourfing fmoothly, and aflerting 
 boldly. I own to thee, Mirza, this account furprized me ; 
 we have no knowledge in the Eaft of fuch an eloquence as 
 :his man defcribed : it is our cuftom to fpeak naturally and 
 >ertinently, without ever imagining that there was an art in 
 t't, or that it was poffible to talk finely upon a fubje& which 
 xe do not underftand. 
 
 (< Pray, Sir, faid I, when thefe orators you tell me of have 
 ,>een caught two or three times in a lie, do not you treat 
 Khem with the utmoft contempt ? Quite the contrary, an- 
 fwered he, the whole merit and pride of their profeflion is to 
 kcei-ve : they are to lay falfe colours upon every thing, and 
 he greater the impofition is, the greater their reputation : 
 he orator who can only perfuade us to at againft fome of 
 mr lefler interefts, is but a genius of thejecond rate ; but he 
 vho can compel us by his eloquence to violate the moft ef- 
 sntial is an able man indeed, and will certainly rife very high. 
 fuppofe it may be your cuftom in Perfia to beftow employ- 
 L 3 ments
 
 i 5 o PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 ments on fuch perfons as have particularly qualified them- 
 felves for them : you put the care of the army and the ma- 
 line into the hands of foldiers and feamen ; you make one 
 man fecretary of ftate, becaufe he has been bred in foreign 
 courts, and underftands the interefts of our neighbouring 
 princes ; to another you truft the revenue, becaufe he is fkil- 
 ful in ceconomy, and has proved himfelf above the tempta- 
 tion of embezzling what pafles through his hands. Yes, 
 replied I, this is furely the right method, and I conclude it 
 muft be yours. No, faid he, we are above thofe vulgar pre- 
 judices ; fuch qualifications are not requifite among us : to 
 be fit for any, or all of thefe pofts, one muft be a good fpeaker 
 in parliament-. How! faid I, becaufe I make a fine harangue 
 upon a treaty of peace, am I therefore fit to fuperintend an 
 army ? We think fo, anfwered he : and if I can plaufibly de- 
 fend a minifter of ftate from a reafonable charge brought a- 
 gainft him, have I thereby a title to be taken into the admi- 
 niftration ? Beyond difpute, in this country, anfwered he. 
 Why then, by Mahomet, faid I, your government may well 
 be fick : what a diftempered body muft that be, whofe mem- 
 bers are fo monftroufly out of joint, that there is no one part 
 in its proper place ! if my tongue mould undertake to do the 
 office of my head and arms, the abfurdity and the impotency 
 would be juft the fame. 
 
 Yet thus, faid he, we go on, lamely enough, I muft con- 
 fefs, but ftill admiring our own wife policy, and laughing at 
 the reft of the world. 
 
 You may laugh, replied I, as you think fit ; but if the 
 fultan, my mafter, had among his counfellors fuch an orator 
 as you defcribe, a fellow that would prate away truth, equity 
 and common fenfe; by the tomb of our holy prophet, he 
 would make a mute of him, and fet him to watch over the 
 feraglio inftead of the ftate. 
 
 At thefe words, I was obliged to take my leave, and our 
 difcourfe was broke off till another meeting. 
 
 LETTER XLIV. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From Loncton. 
 
 THE next day I few my friend again, and he refumcd the 
 fubjecl: of eloquence. You cannot imagine, faid he to 
 me, of what fatal confequence this art of haranguing has 
 been to all free flares : good laws have been eftablifhed by 
 
 v, iie
 
 LETTER XLIV. i 5r 
 
 wife men, who were far from being eloquent ; and eloquent 
 men, who were far from being wife, have every where de- 
 ftroyed or corrupted them. Look into hiftory, you will find, 
 that the fame period which carried eloquence to its perfeaion 
 was almoft always mortal to liberty. The republics of 
 Greece, and that of Rome, did not fee their moft celebrated 
 orators, till the very moment that their conftitutions were 
 overturned. _ And how, indeed, fliould it be otherwife ? 
 When once it becomes a fafhion to advance men to dignity 
 and power, not for the good council that they give, but for 
 an agreeable manner of recommending bad ones ; it is rm- 
 poffible that a government fo adminiftered can long fubfift 
 Is any thing complained of as amifs ? Inftead of redrefs, they 
 give you an oration : have you propofed a good and needful 
 paw ? In exchange for that you receive an oration. Has your 
 aturat reafon determined you upon any point ? Up gets an 
 jorator, and fo confounds you, that you are no longer able to 
 xeafon at all : is any right meafure to be obftruaed, or wrong 
 x>ne to be advanced ? There is an orator always ready, and it 
 is moft charmingly performed to the delight of all the hearers. 
 1 do not know, faid I, what pleafure you may find in be? 
 Deceived ; but I dare fay, ftiould thefe gentlemen undertake 
 o inftrua a merchant in his bufmefs, or a farmer in his 
 (frork, without undemanding either trade or hufhandrv, they 
 would only be laughed at for their pains ; and yet when fhey 
 Attempt to perfuade a nation to commit a thoufand fehfelefs 
 aults, they are liftened to with great attention, and come off 
 [with abundance of applaufe. But for my part, I think they 
 Melerve nothing but hatred and contempt, for daring to play- 
 kith fuch facred things as truth, juftice, and public good, 
 [n fo wanton and diffolute a manner. 
 
 Moft certainly, anfwered he, they are very dangerous to 
 ill iociety ; for what is it that they profefs ? do not they make 
 Kir boaft, that they have the power to footh or inflame 
 hat is, in proper terms, to make us partial, or to make u-r 
 tnad? are either of thefe tempers of the mind agreeable to 
 e duty of a judge, or of a counfellor of ftate ? I maintain, 
 hat it would be juft as proper for us to decide a queftion of 
 jght or wrong, after a debauch of wine, or a dofe of opium, 
 s after being heated or cooled, to the degree we often are 
 y the addrefs of one of thefe flcilful fpeakers. 
 Wifely was it done by the Venetians, to banim a member 
 their fenate (as I have read they did) only becaufe they 
 nought he had too much eloquence, and gained too great an 
 Icendant in their councils by that bewitching talent. With- 
 it fuch a caution there is no fafety ; for we are led, when we 
 L 4 fancy
 
 , 5 a PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 fancy that we ad moft freely, and the man who can matter 
 our affeaions, will have bur little trouble with our reafon 
 but, to fhew you the power of oratory, in its ftrongeft light, 
 let us fee what it does with religion : in itfelf it is fimple and 
 beneficent, full of charity and humility ; and yet, let an elo- 
 quent jefuit get up into a pulpit, what monftrous fyftems will 
 he draw out of it| what pride, what tyranny will he make it 
 authorize ! how much rancour and malignity will he graft 
 upon it ! If then the laws of God may be thus corrupted by 
 the taint of eloquence, do we wonder that the laws of men. 
 cannot efcape ? No, faid I, no mifchiefs are to be wondered 
 at, where the reafon of mankind is fo abufed. 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE converfation I repeated to thee in my laft letter was 
 heard by a gentleman that fat near us, who, I have 
 been told, has found his account fo much in eloquence, as to 
 be interefted in the defence of it : accordingly, he attacked 
 my friend, and told him, he was afraid he had forgot his hif- 
 tory, or he would have recollected, that Demofthencs and 
 Cicero, the two greateft orators that ever were, employed 
 their rhetoric in the fervice of their country. I might, per- 
 haps, anfwered he, make fome objections to the integrity of 
 both ; but, allowing what you fay, it amounts to no more 
 than this, that eloquence may be of fervice to mankind in the 
 poffeffion of very good men ; and fo may arbitrary power, of 
 the greateft fervice : but yet we fay in England, that it is 
 wifer not to truft to it ; becaufe, as it is generally managed, 
 it becomes a moft grievous oppreffion. And, I am (ure, I 
 can mew you in hiftory as many orators that have abufed 
 their eloquence, as kings that have abufed their authority: 
 for, befdes the wickednefs common to human nature, the 
 vanity of making a bad caufe appear a good one, is in itfelf a 
 dangerous temptation. When a man fees he is able to im- 
 pofe upon the judgments of others, he muft be a very honeft, 
 and very modeft one indeed, if he never does it wrongfully. 
 Alas, Sir, returned his antagonift,the generality of men are too 
 weak to bear truth I they muft be cheated into happinefs. 
 1 am fure they are often cbca'ed out of it, replied my friend: 
 nor can I wholly agree to your propofition in the fenfe you 
 underftand it. It may be neceffary for the government of 
 
 mankind
 
 LETTER XLVI. 153 
 
 mankind, not to tell them the whole truth : fomething may 
 be proper to be hid behind the veil of policy ; but it is fel- 
 dom neceflary to tell them lies. 
 
 Thefe pious Jrauds are the inventions of very impi'ittt 
 men ; they are the tricks of thofe who make the public good 
 a pretence for ferving their private vices. Let us confider 
 how mankind was governed in thofe ages and dates, where 
 they are known to have been the happieft. How was it in 
 Athens while the laws of Solon preferved their force? Was 
 it then thought neceffary to lie for the good of the common- 
 wealth ? No : the people were truly informed of every 
 thing that concerned them ; and as they judged by iheir na- 
 tural understanding, their determinations were right, and 
 their actions glorious : but when the orators had got the do- 
 monion over them, and they were deceived upon the prin- 
 ciple you eftablifh, what was the confequence ? their leaders 
 became factious and corrupt, their government venal, their 
 public councils uncertain and fluctuating, either too weakly 
 \fearfuly or too rafbly bold ; till, at lad, from generous* 
 i high-fpirited freemen, they funk into prating, contemptible 
 flaves. In Rome the cafe was much the fame : as long as 
 ': they were a great and free people, they underftood not thefe 
 : political refinements. All governments, in their firft inflt- 
 i tution, were founded in truth and juftice, and the firft rulers 
 I of them were generally honefl men ; but, by length of time, 
 
 corruption is introduced, and men come to look upon thofe 
 
 frauds as neceffary to government, which their forefathers ab- 
 , horred as deftru&ive to it. It does not, faid I, belong to me 
 , to decide in this difpute ; but it feems to be highly import- 
 ant, that this power of deceiving for the public good fhould 
 
 i be lodged in fafe hands. And, I fuppofe, that fuch among 
 you as are trufted with it, are very conjlant and uniform in 
 their principles : though the colours may vary, the ground 
 | of their conduct is ftill the fame. What with them is the 
 \tffential and fundamental intereft of the nation now, will 
 certainly be fo next year: difgrace or favour can make no 
 difference. 
 
 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I WAS the other day in company with a clergyman, who 
 has the education of feveral young noblemen committed 
 to his care : a truft of this importance made me regard him as 
 
 one
 
 i 5 4 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 one of the moft conftderable men in England. This fage, faid 
 I to myfelf, has much to anfwer for : the virtue and happi- 
 refs of the next age will in a great meafure depend on his ca-< 
 pacity. I was very defirous to enter into difcourfe with him, 
 that 1 might know if he was equal to his office, and tried all 
 the common topics of converfation ; but on none of thefe- 
 was I able to draw a word from him : at laft, upon fome 
 point being ftarted, which gave him occafion to quote a La- 
 tin poet, he opened all at once, and poured forth fuch a de- 
 luge of hard words, compofed out of all the learned lan- 
 guages, that though I understood but little of his meaning, I 
 could not help admiring his elocution. 
 
 As his fcholars were many of them born to an hereditary 
 lhare in the legiflature, I concluded he muft be thoroughly 
 acquainted with the Englifh, constitution, and able to inftruffc 
 them in the knowledge of it : but, upon afking him fome 
 queftions on that fubje6t, I found, to my very great furprize* 
 that he was more a Stranger to it than myfelf, and had no 
 notions of government, but what he drew from the imagi* 
 nary republic of a Greek philofopher. Well, faid I, you at 
 leaSt inStru& your fcholars in Grecian and Roman virtue ; 
 you light up in them a fpirit of liberty ; you exercife theiri 
 in jujlice and magnanimity ; you form them to a refemblancd 
 of the great cbaraflers they meet with in ancient authors. 
 Far from it, faid a gentleman in company. They are accu* 
 itemed to tremble at a rod, to tell lies in excufe of trifling* 
 faults, to betray their companious y to be fpies and cowards A 
 the natural vigour of their fpii its is broke, the natural inge- 
 nuity of their tempers varniShed over, the natural bent of 
 their genius curbed and thwarted. The whole purpofe of 
 their education is to acquire fome Greek and Latin words ; 
 by this only they are allowed to try their parts ; if they are 
 backward in this, they are pronounced dunces, and often 
 made fo from difcouragement and defpair. 
 
 I Should think, faid I, if words only are to be taught them, 
 they fhould learn to fpeak English with grace and elegance, 
 which is particularly neceflary in a government where elo- 
 quence has obtained fo great a fway. That article is never 
 thought of, anfwered he : I came myfelf from the college a 
 perfect matter of one or two dead languages, but could nei- 
 ther write nor fpeak my cwn, till it was taught me by the 
 letters and converfation of a lady about the court, whom, 
 luckily for my education, I fell in love with. 
 
 I have heard, faid I, that it is ufual for young gentlemen 
 to finiSh their Studies in other countries j and, indeed, it feems 
 
 neceflarjr
 
 LETTER XLVII. 155 
 
 ineceflary enough by the account you have given me of them 
 here : but if I may judge by the greateft part of thofe whom 
 I have feen at their return, the foreign mafteri are no better 
 (than the Englifh, and the foreign miftrejfes not fo good. 
 IWere I to go back to Perfia with an Englilh coat, an Eng- 
 p footman, and an Englifh cough, it would amount to juft 
 jthe improvement made in France, by one half of the y^uth 
 jwho travel thither. Add to thefe, a tafte for mufic, replied 
 the gentleman, with two or three terms of building and of 
 painting, and you would want but one tajle more to be as ac- 
 Wgaplijbtd as fome of the finefl gentlemen that Italy fends us 
 back. 
 
 LETTER XLVII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 FROM confidering the education of Englifh gentlemen, 
 we turned our difcourfe to that of Englifh ladies. I 
 .^iked a married man that was in company, to inuruS me a 
 little in the courfe of it, being particularly curious to know 
 jrhe methods which could render a woman in this country fo 
 Afferent a creature from one in Perfia. Indeed, Sir, faid he, 
 you mufl afk my wife, not me, that queftion : thefe are my- 
 rieries I am not allowed to pry into. When I prefume to 
 ijjive my advice about it, (he tells me the education of a lady 
 ; s above the capacity of a man, let trim be ever fo wife in his 
 &wn affairs. I mould think, faid I, that as the purpofe of 
 fijvomens breeding is nothing elfe, but to teach them to pleafe 
 linen ; a man fhould be a better judge of that than any woman 
 t'fl the world. But pray, Sir, what in general have you ob- 
 f.srved of this myjlerious injiitution ? I do not enquire into 
 he fecrets behind tie altar, but only the outward forms of 
 : Vftpline which are expofed to the eyes of all the world. 
 Vhy, Sir, replied he, the firft great point which every mo- 
 her aims at, is to make her girl a geddeft if fhe can. 
 I A goddefs ! cried I, in great aflonifhment. 
 , Yes, Hud he ; you have none of them in the Eaft ; but 
 ,ere we have five or fix in every ftreet : there never were 
 iiore divinities in -ffigypt, than there are at this time in the 
 pwn of London. In order, therefore, to fit them for that 
 bar after, they are made to throw off human nature, as much 
 :5 poffible, in their look's, geftures, words, a&ions, drefs, &c. 
 -But is it not apt to return again ? faid I. Yes, replied he, 
 ^returns indeed again, but ftrangely distorted and deformed. 
 :- he lame thing happens to their minds as to their Jhapes ; 
 Pth are cramped by a violent confinement, which makes 
 pern fwell out in the wrong place. You cannot conceive the 
 
 wild 
 
 . >
 
 156 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 wild tricks that women play from this habitual perverfion of 
 their faculties : there is not a Tingle quality belonging to them 
 which they do not apply to other purpofes than Providence 
 defigned it for. Hence it is, that they are vain of being 1 
 cowards , and ajhamed of being modejl : hence they J mile j 
 on the man whom they difltke, and look cold on him they! 
 love : hence they kill every fentiment of their own, and not i 
 only aft with the falbion, but really think with it. All this! 
 is taught them carefully from their childhood, or elfe it 
 would be impoffible fo to conquer their natural difpofitions. 
 
 I do not know, faid I, what the ufe is of thefe inftruclions ; 
 but it feems to me, that in a country where the women are I 
 admitted to a familiar and conftant fhare in every acYive fcene I 
 of life, particular care fhould be taken in their education, to 1 
 cultivate their reafon, and form thsir hearts, that they >! 
 may be equal to the part they have to ah Where great! 
 temptations muft occur, great virtues are required ; and the j 
 giddy fttuations in which they are placed, or love to place . 
 themfelves, demand a more than ordinary flrength of brain. 1 
 In Perfia a woman has no occafion for any thing but beauty, j 
 becaufe of the confinement which fhe lives under, and there- $ 
 fore that only is attended to : but here, methinks, good fenfe 
 is fo very necefiary, that it is the bufmefs of a lady to im- I 
 prove and adorn her underftanding with as much application 
 as the other fex ; and, generally fpeaking, by methods much 
 tbe fame. 
 
 LETTER XL VIII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. I 
 
 I WAS this morning with fome gentlemen of my acquaint- , 
 ance, who were talking of the attempt that had been made 
 not long ago of fetting up a prefs at Constantinople, and the 
 oppofition it had met with from the mufti. They applied to 
 me to know what I thought of it, and whether in Perfia alfo 
 it was our religion that deprived us of fo ufeful an art. 
 
 I told them, that policy had more part than religion in that 
 affair : that the prefs was a very dangerous engine, and the 
 abufes of it made us juftly apprehend ill confequences from it. 
 
 You are in the right, faid one of the company, for this 
 fingle reafon, becaufe your government is a defpotic one. But, 
 in a free country, the prefs may be very ufeful, as long as it is 
 under no particular reftraint : for it is of great confequence, 
 that the people fhould be informed of every thing that con- 
 cerns them ; and, without printing, fuch knowledge could not 
 circulate, either fo eafily or fo faft. And to argue againft 
 
 an;
 
 LETTER XLVIII. 157 
 
 any branch of liberty from the ill ufe that may be made of it, 
 is to argue againft liberty itfelf, fince all is capable of being 
 abufed : nor can any part of freedom be more important, or 
 better worth contending for, than that by which the fpirit of 
 it is preferred, fupported, and diffujed. By this appeal to 
 the judgement of the people, we lay iome reftraint upon thofe 
 mmifters, who may have found means to fecure themfelves 
 from any other left incorruptible tribunal ^ and fure they have 
 no reafon to complain, if the public exercife a right, which 
 cannot be denied without avowing, that their conduct will not 
 bear enquiry. For though the beft adminiftration may be 
 attacked by calumny, I can hardly believe it would be hurt by 
 it, becaufe I have known a great deal of it employed to very 
 little purpofe againft gentlemen, in oppofition to minifters, 
 Kvho had nothing to defend them but the force of truth: I do 
 Dot mean by this to juftify any fcurrilities upon the perfonal 
 vbaraflers either of magiftrates or private men, or any libel 
 properly fa called. Agaiaft fuch abufes of the prefs the laws 
 jhave provided a remedy ; and let the laws take their courfe ; 
 it is for the intereft of liberty they mould do fo, as well as for 
 jthe fecurity and honour of government: but let them not be 
 jftrained into oppreffion by jorced conJlruJions> or extraordi- 
 kary afis of power, alike repugnant to natural juftice, and to 
 Ihe fpirit of a free ftate. Such arbitrary practices no provo- 
 bation can juftify, no precedents warrant, no danger excufe. 
 
 The gentleman who fpoke thus was contradicted by ano- 
 ther of the company, who, with great warmth, and many ar- 
 guments, maintained, ' That the licentioufnefs of the prefs 
 I was grown, of late, to fuch a dangerous heighth as to re- 
 ij quire extraordinary remedies ; and that if it were put under 
 | the infpetion of Tome difcreet and judicious perfon, it would 
 
 be far more beneficial to the public.' 
 
 ! I agree to it, anfwered he, upon one condition, viz. That 
 
 jhere may be likewife an infpeflor for THE PEOPLE, as well 
 
 I one for the court ; but if nothing is to be licenfed on one fide, 
 
 Ind every thing on the other, it would be much better tor as 
 
 'o adopt the Eaflern policy, and allow no printing here at all, 
 
 ;han to leave it under fuch a partial direction. 
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE fame gentleman, who, as I told thee in my laft, 
 argued fo (Irongly for the liberty of the prefs, went on 
 vith his difcourfe in the following manner: 
 
 If
 
 , 5 8 P E R S I A'N LETTERS. 
 
 If we have fo much reafon to be unwilling, that what we 
 print fhould be under the infpeflion of the court ; how much 
 more may we complain of a new power aflfumed within thefe 
 laft fifty years by all the courts in Europe, of infpefling pri- 
 vate letters, and invading the liberty of the pojl The fecrecy 
 and fafety of correfpondence, is a -point of fuch confequence 
 to mankind, that the lead interruption of it would be crimi- 
 nal, without an evident neceffity ; but that of courfe, from one 
 year to another, there mould be a conftant breach of it pub- 
 licly avowed, is fuch a violation of the rights of fociety, as one 
 cannot but wonder at even in this age. 
 
 You may well wonder, faid I to him, when I myfelf am 
 quite amazed to bear of fuch a thing; the like of which was 
 never pra&ifed among us, whom you Englifh reproach with 
 being Jjlaves. But I beg you to inform me what it was, that 
 could induce a free people to give up all the fecrets of their 
 bufmefs and private thoughts, to the curiofity and difcretion 
 of a minifter, or his inferior tools in office ? 
 
 They never gave them up, anfwered he; but thofe gentle- 
 men have exercifed this power by their own authority, under : 
 pretence of difcovering plots againft the ftate. No doubt, 
 faid one of the company, it is a great advantage and eafe to the 
 government, to be acquainted at all times with the fentiments 
 of confiderable perfons, becaufe it is poflible they may have 
 fome ill intent. It is very true, replied the other, and it might 
 be ftill a greater eafe and advantage to the government to 
 have a licenjedfpy in every houfe, who fhould report the mod 
 private conventions, and let the minifter thoroughly into the 
 fecrets of every family in the kingdom. This would effectually 
 detect and prevent confpiracies; but would any-body come, 
 into it on that account? 
 
 It is not making a bad compliment to a government, to fup- 
 pofe, that it could not be fecured without fuch meafures, as 
 are inconfiftent with the end for which it is defigned ? 
 
 But fuch, in general, is the wretched turn of modern po- 
 licy : the moft (acred ties of fociety are often infringed, to 
 promote fome prefent intereft, without confideringhow fatal it 
 may prove in its remoter confequences, and how greatly we 
 may want thofe ufeful barriers we have fo lightly broken 
 down. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 159 1 
 
 LETTER L. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 HAD lately the pleafure of feeing a fight which filled 
 a. my mmd beyond all the magnificence that our Eaftern 
 bnonarchs can fhew ; I faw a Bntiflijfc*/ under full fail No- 
 thing can be imagined more pompous, or more aueuft \ The 
 taft fize of the mips and fkill of the failors exceed any others 
 bow in the univerfe ; nor are they lefs renowned for their in 
 bepichty. The whole fpedacle gave me the higheft ideas of 
 Mie ftrength of this nat.on; a rtrength not confined to their 
 Efafbh bUt eqUa " y f rmidable to the moft diftai * parts 
 Were I a king of England, I would never receive an em- 
 baflador with any folemnity but in the cabin of a fir ft rate 
 ban of war. There is the true feat of his empire; and from 
 Ibat throne he might awe the whole world, if he underftood 
 how to exert his maritime power in its full ftrength, and was 
 fe enough to aim at no other. But, by an unaccountable 
 kiittake in their policy, many kings of England have feemed 
 jo forget that their dominions had the advantage of being an 
 Wand: they have been as deeply engaged in the affairs of the 
 bnttnent as the moft expojedof the ftates there, and needed 
 fie fea, to give all their attention to expenfive and ruinous 
 Pars undertaken at land. Nay, what is ftranger ftill, they 
 lave been fond of acquifttions made upon the continent, not 
 bnfidenng that all fucb actions, inftead of encreafing 
 heir real ftrength, are only fo many weak and vulnerable parts! 
 . which they are liable to be hurt by thofe enemies, who 
 buld-not poflibly hurt them in their natural ftate, as the 
 vereigns of a powerful ifiand. Their cafe is the reverfe of 
 hat exprefled by the poets of Greece in the fable of Antaeus 
 f:e was (fay thofe poets) the Jon of the earth-, and as long 
 the fought upon her fur face, even Hercules, the ftroneeft 
 heroes, could not overcome him; but being drawn from 
 ence he was eaflly vanquifhed : the Englim (in the fame 
 >et.cal ft,Ie) are the font of the fea, and while they adhere 
 I th'.r mother they are invincible ; but if they can once be 
 lawn out of that fituation, their flrength forfakes them, 
 <3 they are not only in danger of being crufbed by their 
 V m ' es > but may be bugged to death even by 
 
 LET-
 
 T PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER Lf. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 From London. 
 AM returned to this city, from which I have made a i 
 j. long excurfion, and am going to give thee an account how ; 
 1 have palled my time. A friend of mine, who lives in a 
 part of England, dilrant from the capitol, invited me to fpend 
 the fummer at his houfe : my curiofity to fee fomething new, 
 and natural love to fields and groves at this feafon of the year, 
 made me glad to accept of his propofal. 
 
 The firft thing that ftruck me in leaving London, was to 
 find all the country cultivated like one great garden. This , 
 is the genuine effect of that happy liberty which the Englifh 
 enjoy: where property is fecure, induftry will exert itfelf ; 
 and fuch is the force of induftry, that without any particular 
 advantages of foil or climate, the lands about this city are of 
 a hundred times greater profit to their owners, than the beft 
 tempered and moft fertile fpots of Afia to the fubjeds of thai 
 fophi, or the Turk. 
 
 Another circumftance which engaged my attention through- 
 out all my journey, was the vaft number of fine feats that 
 adorned the way as I travelled along, and feemed to exprefs a 
 certain rural great nefs extremely becoming a free people. If 
 looked to me, as if men who were poflcfTed of fuch magnifi- 
 cent retreats, were above depending on a court, and had wife- 
 ly fixed the fcene of their pride and pleasure in the centre of 
 their own eftates, where they could really m.ike themfelves 
 moft confideraWe. And, indeed, this notion is true in fad ; 
 for it has always been the policy of princes that wanted to be 
 abfolute, to draw gentlemen away from their country feats, 
 and place them about a court, as well to deprive them of the 
 popularity which hofpitality might acquire, as to render them 
 cold to the intereft of the country, and wholly devoted to 
 themfelves. Thus we have often been told by our friend 
 Ufhec, that the court and capitol of France is crowdtd with 
 nobility, while in the provinces there is fcarce a manfion- 
 houfe that is not falling to ruin ; an infallible fign of the decay 
 and downfal of the nobility itfelf! Thole who remember what 
 England was forty years ago, fpeak with much uneafinefs of 
 the^change they obferve in this particular ; and complain, that 
 their countrymen are making hafte to copy the French, by 
 abandoning their family feals, and living lootonftantly 
 
 town;
 
 LETTER LITI. 161 
 
 town ; but this is not yet fenfible to a foreigner. Thou may- 
 ell expect the fequel of my journey in other letters. 
 
 I 
 
 LETTER LIIT. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 T happened when I fet out from London, that the parlia- 
 ment, which had fat feven years, wasjuft difiblved, and 
 elections for a new one were carrying on all over England. 
 My firft day's ftage had nothing in it remarkable, more than 
 what I obferved to thee in my laft. But when I came to the 
 town where I was to lodge, I found the ftreets all crowded 
 with men and women, who gave me a lively idea of what I 
 have read of the ancient Bacchanals. Inftead of ivy, they 
 carried oaken boughs, were exceeding drunk and mutinous^ 
 but, at the fame time, mighty zealous for religion. My Per- 
 fian habit drew them all about me, and I found they were 
 much puzzled what to make of me. Some faid, I was a Ger- 
 man minifter, fent by the court to corrupt the electors ; upon 
 which fuggeftion, I had like to have been torn to pieces; others 
 fancied me a Jefuit; but at laft they agreed I was a mounte- 
 bank ; and as fuch conducted me to my inn with great ref- 
 pect. When I was fafely delivered from this danger, I took 
 #. refolution to lay afide my foreign drefs, that I might travel 
 with iefs difturbance ; and' fell into difcourfe upon Vhat had 
 palled with a gentleman that accompanied me in my journey. 
 It Teemed to me very flrange, that in an affair of fo great im- 
 portance as the choice of a guardian for their liberties, men 
 Ihouki drink themfelves out of their reafon. I afked, whe- 
 ther riots of this kind were common at thefe times ? He an- 
 fweted, that the whole bufmefs of the candidates was to per- 
 vert and confound the underftandings of thofe that chufe them, 
 by all imaginable ways : that from the day they began to make 
 their intereft, there was nothing but idlenefs and debauchery 
 among the common people : the care of their families is neg- 
 lected ; trades and manufadures are at a fland ; and fuch a 
 habit of diforder is brought upon them, that it requires the 
 ben: part of feven years to fetsle them again. And yet, con- 
 tinued he, this evil, great as it is, may be reckoned one of the 
 leafl attending thefe affairs. Could we bring our electors to 
 content themfelves with being made drunk for a year toge- 
 ther, we might hope to preferve our conftitution ; but it is 
 t cwftderate corruption, the cool bargaining for a fale 
 M of
 
 162 FERSI AN LET TERS. 
 
 of their liberties, that will be the certain undoing of this na- 
 tion, whenever a wicked minifter (hall be the purchaser. 
 
 LETTER LIV. 
 
 SELIM to MIR.ZA at Itpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE next day brought us into a country town, where the 
 elections for the city and the fhire were carrying on to- 
 gether. It was with fome difficulty that we made our w?.y 
 through twoor three mobs of different parties, that obligee! us 
 by turns to declare ourfelves (or their refpcdive factions. Some 
 of them wore in their hats tobacco leaves, and feemed print 
 cipally concerned for the honour of that noble plant, which 
 thev laid had been attacked by the miniltry ; and in this I 
 heartily joined with them, being myfelf a great admirer of its 
 virtues, like moft of my countrymen. When \ve came to our 
 inn, I entertained myfclt with alking my fellow traveller quef- 
 tions about elections. The thing was fo new to me, that in 
 many points I could not believe him. As for inftar.ce, it 
 feems very odd, that a corporation fhould take fuch a hidden 
 liking to a man's face, whom they never faw before, as to pre- 
 fer him to a family that had fervcd them time out of mind ; 
 yet this, I was affured, very often happened, and what -ras 
 ftranger ftill, on the recommendat-on of another perfon, who 
 vas no better known to them himielf. My inftru&or added, 
 That there was in England ONE MAN" fo extremely popular, 
 tbiiiijfb believer a ffe fled popularity > that a line from him, ac- 
 companied with twoor three bits of A particular fort of pa- 
 per, was enough to direct half the nation in the choice of 
 their repreftntatives. 
 
 It would be endlefs to repeat to thee all the tricks which he 
 told me other gentlemen were forced to ufe to get therr.felves 
 e'lc&ed. One way of being well with a corporation (which 
 a Peifian would hardly conceive) is to /'///all their wiver. My 
 companion con felled to me, that he himfelf had formerly been 
 obliged to go through this laborious felicitation, and had met 
 with !ome old women in his way, who made him pav d< 
 their iniereft. But thefe methods (faid he), and other aris of 
 popularity, are growing out of hifhion every day. !We now 
 court our electors, as we do cur miftrefles, by fending a no- 
 . tary to thern\-;th a p-oprfal : if thev like the fettlemenr, it 
 is no matter how they iil;e the man that makes it ; but if we 
 difagree about tint,. other prttenivonsartof very liale ufe. And
 
 LETTER LV. 
 
 to make the comparifon the jufter, the members thus chofen 
 have no more regard to their venal constituents, than huibands 
 fo married to their wives. I afked, if they had no laws againft 
 corruption. Yes, faid he, very ftrong ones, but corruption is 
 flronger than the laws. If the magiftrates in Perfia were to 
 fell wine, it would fignify very little that your law forbids the 
 drinking it. How is it pofTible, faid I, to bribe a whole na- 
 tion to the undoing itfelf ? It is not poffible, anfwered he ; but 
 the misfortune of our government is, that the majority of the 
 reprefenrative body is chofen not by the whole nation, but by 
 mfmaJI, and very mean part of it. There are a number of 
 boroughs which have at prefent no other trade than fending 
 members to parliament, and whofe inhabitants think the right 
 ot jelling themfeives and their country, the only valuable pri- 
 vilege of Englishmen. Time has produced this evil, which 
 was quite unforefeen in the original frame of our conftituti- 
 on ; and time alone can furnifh occafions, and means of ap- 
 plying an adequate remedy. Before it can be thoroughly 
 cured, one of two very unlikely things mufl come to pals, 
 either a court mufl: be fo difmterefted as to exert all its power 
 for the redreflingan evil advantageous to itfelf ; or a popular 
 party foltrongas to give laws to the court, muft have virtue 
 enough to venture difgujling the people, as well as offending the 
 crown, for the fake of reforming the CONSTITUTION. 
 
 LETTER LV. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 ON the third day our travels were at an end, and I arrived 
 at my friend's houfe with all the pleafure which we re- 
 Jceive from retirement and repofe, after a life of tumult and 
 ifatigue. I was as weary of elections, as if I had been a can- 
 didate myfelf, and could not help exprefling my furprize, that 
 the general diforder on thefe occafions, had not brought fome 
 : ata! milchief upon the nation - That we are not undone by 
 t, replied my friend, is entirely owing to the happy circum- 
 lance of our being an ifland. Were we fcated on [he conti- 
 nent, every election of a new parliament would infallibly 
 jiraw on an invafion. It is pot only from enemies abroad that 
 /ou are in danger, anfwered I: one would think that the vio- 
 ence of domeftic feuds mould of itfelf overturn your conftt- 
 ution, as it has fo many others ; and how you have been able 
 'oefcape fo long, is the wonder of. all who have been bred up 
 M 2 under
 
 1 64 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 under abfolute monarchies : for they are taught, that the fn- 
 perior advantage of their form of government confifts in the 
 ftrength of union ; and that in other dates, where power is 
 more divided, a pernicious confufion mud enfue. They ar- 
 gue rightly enough, faid the gentleman who came along with 
 me, but they carry the argument too far. No doubt, fadions 
 are the natural inconveniences of all free governments, asop- 
 preffion is too apt to attend on arbitrary power. But the dif- 
 ference lies here, that in an abfolute monarchy, a tyrant has 
 nothing to redrain him ; whereas parties are not only a con- 
 troul on thofe that govern, but on each other; nay, they are 
 even a controul upon tbemfehes, as the leaders of them dare 
 not give a loofe to their own particular paflTions and deflgns, 
 for fear of hurting their credit with thofe whom it is their in- 
 tereft to manage, and pleafe. Befides, that it is eafier to in- 
 fed a prince with a fpirit of tyranny, than a nation with a 
 fpirit of fadion ; and where the difcontent is not general, the 
 mifchief will be light. To engage a whole people in a revolt, 
 the higheft provocations muft be given ; in fuch a cafe, the 
 diforder is not chargeable on thofe that defend their liberties, 
 but on the aggreflbr that invades them. Parties in fociety 
 are like tempeds in the natural world; they caufe, indeed, a 
 very great difhirbance, and when violent tear up every thing 
 that oppofes them ; but then they purge away many noxious 
 qualities, and prevent a dagnation which would be fatal : all 
 nations that live in a quiet flattery, may be properly laid to 
 ftagnate ; and happy would it be for them if they were rotiled 
 and put in motion by that fpirit of faction they dread fo much ; 
 for, let the confequenccs of refiftance be what they would, 
 they can produce nothing worfe than a confirmed and eda- 
 blifhed fervitude : but generally fuch a ferment in a nation 
 throws off what is mod oppreffive to it, and fettles, by degrees, 
 into a better and more eligible date. Of this we have re- 
 ceived abundant proof; for there is hardly a privilege belong- 
 ing to us, which has not been gained by popular difcontent, 
 and preferved by frequent oppofition: I may add, that we 
 have known many indances, where parties, though ever fo 
 inflamed againd each other, have united, from a fenfe of com- 
 mon danger, and joined in fecuring their common happinefs, 
 And this is more eafily done, when the points that were once 
 the great iubjeds of heat and divifion, are either worn out by 
 time, or changed by tha clearer and more temperate medium 
 through which they are feen : for in that cafe, parties which 
 thought that they dood at a very great didance from one ano- 
 ther, may find them (elves brought very near, and the only 
 
 feparation
 
 LETTER LVI. 165 
 
 Jeparation remaining would be the effential and everfaftingor)e f 
 between bonejimen and knaves, wife men and fools. That this 
 may happen experience mews, and this, I think, ought to free 
 us from the reproach of facrificing our country to our divifi- 
 ons, and make thole delpair of fuccefs, that bipe, by dividing, 
 to dfjlrcy us. 
 
 LETTER LVI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 FOR the firft month of my being in the country, we did 
 nothing from morning till night, but difpute about the 
 government. The natural beauties round about us were little 
 attended to, fo much were we taken up with our enquiries into 
 political defects. My two companions difagreed in many 
 points, though I am perfuaded they both meant the fame thing, 
 and were a! moft equally good fubjecls, and good citizens. I 
 fometirnes fancied, that I had learnt a great deal in thefe de- 
 bates ; but when I came to put my learning together, I found 
 myfelf not much wifer than before. The mafler of the houfe 
 was inclined to the fide of the court, not from any interefted 
 or ambitious views ; but, as he faid, from a principle of vubig- 
 gifrn: this word is one of thofe diftin&ions, which, for little 
 lefs than a century, have divided and perplexed this nation. 
 The oppofite party are called fortes. They have as ftrong an 
 antipathy to each other, as the followers of Hali to thote of 
 Ofman. I defired my friend to give me fome certain mark by 
 which I might know one from the other. The wbigt, faid he, 
 are they that are now in place, and the tories are they that are 
 out. I underftand you, returned I, the difference is only there ; 
 fo that if they who are now tories, were employed, they would 
 inltantly become wbigs ; and if theivbigs were removed, they 
 would be tories. Not fo, anfwered he, with fome warmth : 
 there is a great difference in their principles and their conduct. 
 i Ay, faid I, let me hear that, and then I fnall be able to chufe 
 ; my party. The tories, faid he, are for advancing the power 
 I of the crown, and making the clergy the tools of their am- 
 i bition. When they were in power, they weakened our an- 
 : cient ali'es, dif graced owt arms, hurt our trade, hjl our honour, 
 ; and were affijlant to the greatnefs of France. 
 
 You lurprife me ! replied I; for I have heard all this 5m- 
 ; puted tofotne, who, you allure me, are good ivbigs j nay, the 
 i very pillars of vjbiggifm. 
 
 M 3 I will
 
 166 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 I will explain that matter to you immediately, faid the gen- 
 tleman that came down with me: whiggifm is an indelible cba- 
 rafler, like epijcopacy ; for as he who has once been a bijbop, 
 though he no longer performs any of the offices and duties of 
 his function, is a //Z;o/>"neverthelefs ; fo he who has once been 
 a whig, let him ad: never fo contrary to his principles, // ne- 
 verthelefs a ivbig ; and as all true churchmen are obliged in 
 conference to acknowledge the firft, fo all true whigs are in 
 duty bound lofupport the laft. 
 
 Very well, laid I ; but are there none who differ from this 
 orthodox belief ? Yes, faid he, certain objlinatc people ; but like 
 other dijfinters, they are punifhed for their ftparation, by being 
 excluded from all places of truft and profit. 
 
 A heavy punimment, indeed ! anfwered I, and more likely 
 to diminifb tbefefl than any other kind of perfecution. But if 
 you will allow a ftranger to give any, advice in your affairs, I 
 think you fhould pull down, at once, thele enfigns of party t 
 which are, indeed, folfe colours hung out hyfaflion, and fet 
 up, inttead of them, one national ftandard, which all who leave, 
 by whatever name they may call themielves, fhould be con- 
 fidered, and ufed as deferten. 
 
 LETTER LVH. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Went -with my country friend fome days ago, to make a 
 vifit in a neighbouring county, to the prelate of that diocefe. 
 His character is fo extraordinary, that not to give it to thee, 
 \ould be departing from the rule I have laid down, to let no- 
 thing that hjtngujar efcape my notice. In the 'fir ft place, he 
 re/ides conftantly on his diocefe, and has done fo for many 
 years: he alks nothing of the court for himfelfor family: he 
 hoards up no wealth for his relations, but lays out the revenues 
 of his fee in a decent hofpi tali ty, and a chanty void of often ta- 
 tion. At his firft entrance into the world, he diftinguifhed 
 himfelfby a zeal for the liberty of his country, and had a con- 
 fiderable lhare in bringing on the Revolution that preferved it. 
 His principles never altered by his preferment : he never prolli- 
 tuted his pen, nor debafed his character by party difputes or 
 blind compliance. Though he is warmly ferious in the belief 
 of his religion, he is moderate to all who differ from him : he 
 knows no cliftinaion of party, but extends his good offices alike 
 to whig and tory j a friend to virtue under any denomination ; 
 
 an
 
 L E T T E, R LVII. - 167 
 
 an enemy to vice under any colours. _.. His health and.old age 
 *re -the effects of a temperate life and a quiet confcience : 
 though he is now fome years above fourfcore, nobpdy ever 
 thought he lived too long, unlefs it was out of an impatience 
 tofucceed him. 
 
 This excellent perfon entertained me with the greateft hu- 
 manity, and Teemed to take a particular delight in being uie- 
 t'ul and inftru&ive to a (hanger. To tell thee the truth, Mirza, 
 J was fo affeited with the piety and virtue of this teacher * ; 
 the Chrillian religion appeared to me fo amiable in his cha- 
 ratter and manners, that if the force of education had not 
 footed Mahometifm in my heart, he would certainly have 
 made a convert of me. 
 
 LETTER LVIII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 MY long (lay in the country gave me leifure to read a: 
 good deal; I applied my /"elf to iliftory, particularly that of 
 id; for rightly to underftand what a nation if, one fhould 
 previoufiy learrv what it has been. If I complained of the dif-, 
 fferent accounts which are given : by the Englifh of themfelvcs 
 in their prelent ciicumftances,! have no lets reaion to complain 
 of their hiftorians : paft tranfactions are fo varioufly related, 
 and with fuch a mixture of prejudice on both fides, that it is as. 
 pard to know truth from their relations, as religion from the 
 comments of divines. The great article in which they differ 
 Inoft, is the ancient power of the : c'rown, and that of the par- 
 liament : according to fome, the latter is no more than an in- 
 troachment on the former; but according to others, i.t is as 
 ;Jld as the monarchy ufelf. 
 
 This point is debated with great warmth, and a multitude 
 
 jjif proofs alledged by either party : yet the importance of the 
 
 fjontroverfy is not fo great as fome may conceive it. For manw 
 
 Brandred years the point is out of diipute; but fuppofe it were 
 
 'therwife, would it follow from thence, that the parliamentary 
 
 iiowersareufarpations ? No, Mirza, no; if liberty .were but 
 
 year old, the Englifh would have juft as good a right to claim 
 
 nd to preferve it, as if it had been handed down to them from 
 
 ,nany ages : for allowing that their anceitors were Haves, 
 
 jhrough weaknefs or want of fpirit, \sjlaveryto valuable an in*. 
 
 * The translator fuppofes, that the author means Dr. Hough, 
 i&op of Woicefter. 
 
 M %eritAnce
 
 1*68 P E R S I A N L E T T E R Si 
 
 ^eritance that it never muft be parted with ? is a long prefctip- 
 r ion necefiaty to give force to the natural rights of mankind ? 
 'f the privileges of the people of England be concefftons from the 
 erown, is not the power of the crown itfelf a conce/fion from 
 the people ? however, it muft be confeft, that though a long 
 pofieflion of abfolute power can give no fight to continue it 
 a^ainft the natural claim of the people in behalf of their liber- 
 fies, whenever that claim fhall be made; yet a long pofTefTion 
 o"f freedom ferves to eftablifh and ftrengthen original right^ 
 or, at leaft, makes it more fliameful to give it up. I will 
 therefore iketch out to thee, as fhort as I can in my next let- 
 ters, the refult of what I have read, and what I have thought 
 on this fubjeft, not with the minute exadnefs of a political 
 x critic, who, of all critics, would tire thee moft, but by fuch 
 a general view of the feveral changes this government has un- 
 dergone, as may fet the true ftate of it pretty clearly before 
 thee. Further than this it would be almoft impofiible for a 
 ftranger to go upon that fubjecl, or for one fo diftant as thou 
 art, either to receive or defire information: no"r, indeed, were 
 it more feafible, fhould I think it of ufe, to engage in a much 
 larger detail. It is with enquiries into the conftitutions of na 
 tions, as with enquiries into the conftitution of the univerfej 
 thofe who are moft nicely curious about particular and trifling 
 parts, are often thofe who fee leaft of the whole. 
 
 LETTER LIX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpaban. 
 
 From London. 
 
 IT has been a ufual piece of vanity in the writers of every 
 nation, to reprefent the original conftitutions of their re- 
 ipcftive ftates, as founded on deep-laid fyftems and plans of 
 polic/, in which they imagine that they difcover the utmoft 
 refinement of human wifdom ; whereas, in truth, they are of- 
 ten the effects of downright chance, and produced by the force 
 of certain circumftances, or the fimple dictates of nature itfelf, 
 out of a regard to Tome prefent expediency, and with little 
 providence to the future. 
 
 Such was the original of the celebrated Gothic government, 
 that was formerly fpread all over Europe, It was produced not 
 in a cabinet, but a camp; and owes much lefs to the pruv 
 dence of a legiflator, than to the neceffity of the times, which 
 gave it birth. 
 
 The
 
 LETTER LIX. 169 
 
 The people that introduced it into Britain, and every where 
 elfe, were a multitude of foldiers, unacquainted with any thing 
 but war: their leader, for the better carrying it on, was in- 
 veiled with a fort of regal power, and when it happened that 
 the war continued long, he acquired a preferiptive authority 
 over thofe who had been accuftomed to obey his orders ; but 
 this authority was directed by the advice of the other officers, 
 and dependant on the good-liking of the army, from which 
 alone it was derived : in like manner, the firft revenues of 
 this leader, were nothing more than a title to a larger (hare 
 in the common booty, or the voluntary contributions of the 
 foldiers cut of the wealth acquired under his command. But 
 had he attempted to take a horie or cow, or any part of the 
 plunder from the meaneft foldier, without his free confent, a 
 mutiny would certainly have enfued, and the violation of pro- 
 perty been revenged. From thefe principles we may natu- 
 rally draw the whole form of the Saxon or Gothic government. 
 When thefe invaders became mafters of kingdoms, and not 
 only ravaged them, but fettled there, the general was changed 
 into a king, the officers into nobles, the council of war into a 
 council of ftate, and the body of the foldiery idelf into a ge- 
 heral affembly of all the freemen. A principal mare of the 
 conquefts, as it had been of the fpoils, was freely allotted to 
 the prince, and the reft by him diftributed according to rank 
 and merit among his troops and followers, under certain con- 
 ditions agreeable to the Saxoh cuftoms. Hence the different 
 tenures, and the lervices founded upon them ; hence the vaf- 
 falage, or rather fervitudeof the conquered, who were obliged 
 to till the land which they had loft, for the conquerors who had 
 gained them, or, at beft, to hold them of thofe new proprietors 
 on fuch hard and flavifh terms as they thought fit to impofe. 
 Hence, likewife, the riches of the clergy, and their early au- 
 thority in the ftate: for thofe people being ignorant and fuper* 
 ftitious in the fame degree, and heated with the zeal of a new 
 converfion, thought they could not do too much for their 
 teachers, but with a confiderable fhare of the conquered lands, 
 admitted them to a large participation of dominion itfelf. 
 Thus, without any fettled defign, or fpeculativefkill, thiscon- 
 ftitution in a manner formed itfelf; and it was the better for 
 that reafon, as there was more of nature in it, and little of po- 
 litical myftery, which, wherever it prevails, is the bane of 
 public good. A government fo eftabliftied, could admit of no 
 pretence of a power in the king tranjcendent to law, or an un- 
 alterable right in the fucceflion. It could never come into the 
 heads of fuch a people, that they were to fubmit to a tyranny 
 
 for
 
 7 o PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 for confcience fake ; or, that their liberties were not every wayj 
 JLS faired as the prerogative of their prince. They couid ne- 
 ver be brought to underftand, that there was fuch a thing as 
 reaf'jn of Jlate dillin& from the common reafon of mankind ; 
 much lefs would'they allow pernicious mealures to pafs uii- 
 queiiioned, or unpuriifhed, under the ridiculous fan ct ion of 
 that name. 
 
 LETTER LX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Gave thee in'my laft a fhort account of the firrt rife and con, 
 llruction of the Saxon government,. on very plain and fim- 
 ple foundations. It was, perhaps, the mvftfree of all the li- 
 mited monarchies that have been known in the world. The 
 nobles and people had fuch a fhare in the legislature, and fuch 
 a weight in the government, that the king could do nothing 
 but with their affiftance, and by their advice. He could not 
 opprefs them by force, becaule they were armed, and he ivat 
 not, unlefs when they employed their arms in his fervice for 
 the defence of the kingdom. He could not corrupt them; 
 for all offices of power or judicature were then elcclive, the 
 eftate of the crown was held inalienable, and only fuffked to 
 maintain the expence of the ro> ai houfehold, and civil go- 
 vernment. No caufes were tried but by juries, even in fpi- 
 rituai matters; fo that the lives and properties of the people 
 could not be touched 'without their own co-operation, either by 
 the king, the nobles, or clergy. To all this was joined the 
 beik police that any nation ever enjoyed except the Chinefe, 
 among whom many of the fame regulations have been effa- 
 blilhed with a conformity very [nrpriftn^, as it is certain that 
 neither copied the other. Such was the Saxon conftitution, 
 when by the wifdom and virtue of two or three great kings 
 it had received its final perfection. The only effential defeS 
 of it was, the excejfiv? i:n-nunities granted to churchmen, which 
 made them too independent upon the civil authority, and very 
 burthenfome to the fhte. This form of government conti- 
 nued unaltered in its principal parts, till the Norman invafi- 
 on, which, like a foreign weight roughly laid upon the fprings, 
 difturbed and obftruded its proper motions : yet, by degreei 
 it recovered itfelf again ; and how ill foever the Saxon ^people- 
 might be treated, under the notion of Aconquefl, the Saxon 
 cinftitution was never wholly fubdutd. The new corners re- 
 hfhed fiavery no better than the old inhabitants, and gladly 
 
 joined
 
 LETTER LXT. 171 
 
 joined with them, upon a fenfe of mutual intereft, to force a 
 confirmation of their freedom and the ancient laws. Indeed 
 there was fo great a conformity between the government of 
 Normandy and that of England, the cuftoms of both nations 
 ^ere fo much the fame, that unlefs the Normans by conquer- 
 ing this ifland had loft their original rights, and fought on pur- 
 pofe to degrade themfelves and their pofterity, it was impofli- 
 ple their kings could have a right to abiblute power. So far 
 jwas that nation from owning any fuch right, that, in conjunc- 
 tion with the Englijb, they demanded, and obtained of their 
 tings charters declaring their liberties, not as grants derived 
 Tom thefavour, or innovations forced from the weaknefs, but 
 $S acknowledgements due from \\\tjuftice of the crown. As fuch 
 the beft and greateft princes confidered thofe charters ; as fuch 
 they confirmed and obferved them, and when they were dif- 
 buted. or broken by others of a different character, civil wars 
 ^nfued, which ended to the difadvantage of the crown ; but 
 the misfortune was, that in all thefe ftruggles, ther/2qftj and 
 vobles treated for the people, not the people for tbemjelves ; and 
 jherefore their interests were much neglected, and the 
 id vantages gained from the king were much more beneficial 
 ;o the church and nobility than to thofe who were under their 
 patronage. I will fay more on this head when I write next. 
 
 LETTER LXI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at llpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 rHOU wilt befurprifed to hear that the period when the 
 Englifh nation enjoyed the greateft happinefs, after the 
 plorman invafion, was under the influence of a woman. As 
 much as we Perfians mould defpife a female ruler, it was not 
 .ill the reign of queen Elizabeth, that the government came 
 b an equal balance, which is its true ftate of perfection. 
 
 Though the commons of England had regained,, by degrees 
 'nd in a different jbape, that fhare of the legiflature, which was, 
 in a great meafure, loft by them under the 6rft Norman kings, 
 jet their power was not fo great as it had been in the Saxon 
 !/henagmote, or general affembly, nor their condition fo hap- 
 ;y in many refpe&s ; for the chief ftrength of the governmen t 
 : afided in the great lords, and the clergy, who fupremely di- 
 scted all public affairs. The proceedings of the commons 
 oulfi nor be free in their reprefentati've body, while in their 
 rtlecli've body they weie weak and oppreft. The laws of vaffa- 
 
 lage,
 
 I 7 2 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 lage, the authority of the church, the poverty and dependancy 
 in which they lived, hung heavy upon them, fo that they were 
 obliged to a& in iubferviency to the nobles and bimops, even 
 when they fhewed mod vigour againft the crown, following 
 the paffions of both upon many occafions in the parliament, 
 and in the field, and making, or unmaking kings as thefe their 
 immediate majlers defired. But in return for their fervices they 
 often obtained a redrefs of their grievances, revenged them- 
 felves upon bad minifters, and obtained good laws for the com- 
 monwealth. To whatever purpoies their ftrength might he 
 ufed, though to the purpoies of faction, by being ujed it in- 
 creafed. The crown at laft itfelf atfilled the growth of it, in 
 oppofition to that of the church and the nobility. The bond< 
 ot vaflalage were broke, or lightened ; the barons were bj 
 different laws encouraged and enabled to part with their lands ; 
 the weight of property was transferred to the fide of the pe<* 
 pie. Many accidents concurred to the fame efTe<5r. A refor- 
 mation in religion was begun, by which that mighty fabric oi 
 church power, erected on the ruins of public liberty, an< 
 adorned with the ipoils of the cfewn itfelf, was happily attack- 
 ed and overturned. A great part of the immenfe poiiefiioni 
 of the clergy was taken away, and moft of it fold to the com- 
 mons upon eafy terms. They had now a very conftderabk 
 (hare of the lands of England, and a ftill greater treafure if 
 their commerce, which they were beginning to extend an< 
 improve. Their riches fecured their independency; tin 
 clergy feared them, and the nobles could not hurt them. If 
 this ftate queen Elizabeth found the parliament : the lords art 
 commons were nigh upon a level, and the church in a decen 
 fubordination. She was the head of this well-proportione( 
 body, and lupremely directed all its motions. Thus, what u 
 mixed forms of government feldom happens, there was ri< 
 conteft for power in the legiflature; becaufe no part was 11 
 high as to be uncontrolled, or fo low as to be oppreft. A refor 
 mation of religion wascompleatly eftablifhed by this excellen 
 princefs, which entirely refcued the nation from that foreig. 
 yoke, the pope had impofed upon it for fo many centuries, am 
 from the dominion of fuperftition, tbeworft of all flawy. Th 
 next great benefits that me conferred upon her fubjecls, we? 
 the extenfion of commerce into all parts of the wodd, and th 
 foundation of their maritime pviver 1 , which // their true, natnrt 
 greatnefs. Under her it began, and {he lived to carry it to fuc 
 a height, as to make them really lords of the fea, an empir 
 more glorious than that of the fophi our matter, and rick 
 than that of the mogul. In doing this, me did more for Ertg 
 land than her greateft predeceffors had ever done, far more tha 
 
 thol
 
 LETTER LXII. 173 
 
 thofe who conquered France, though they could have fecured 
 it to their pofte'rity. Thefe were the arts by which (he ruled, 
 and by thefe fhe was able to preferve her authority, nay, and 
 to extend it further upon certain occafions than very abfolute 
 princes could do, even while fheaffifted her people in the cor- 
 roborating and confirming their liberty. The ftrength of her 
 power was their fatisfafiion, and every other happinefs fol- 
 lowed that, as every misfortune and difgrace is fure to attend. 
 on their difcontent. 
 
 LETTER LXII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Ended my laft letter with the felicity of Elizabeth's reign : 
 very different was that of her luccefibr James the Firft : 
 tor his character and conduct were the reverfe of hers. He 
 endeavoured to break the balance of the government by her 
 fo wifely fixed, and wanted to be greater than her, without 
 one quality that could render him capable of filling her place. 
 He had neither courage, ability, noraddrefs : he was contemn- 
 ed both at home and abroad ; his very favourites did not love 
 him, though he was governed by them in every thing ; nor did 
 they maintain their dominion by his affections fo much as by 
 his fears. Yet this meaneft of kings made great advances to- 
 wards absolute power, and would have compleatly obtained it, 
 if he could have found means to have introduced the fame 
 luxury into the nation, as he did into the ceurt, with the con- 
 ftant attendant of luxury, thejame corruption. But the vir- 
 tue infufed by Elizabeth into the mafs of the people, and 
 the indigence of the crown, llopt the contagion from 
 I fpreading fo far : the commons refilled it, though the 
 I lords ar.d the bifhops did not, and fome check was given to 
 the defigns of the king, yet not enough for the fecuring 
 ; of liberty, or preventing the evils bis condu3 prepared for 
 the following reign. Theclergy-, whom he attached to his 
 interests by favouring theirs, or what they took to be theirs, 
 mote than a wife prince would, or a good prince oi:gbt to 
 1 have done, were very afliftant to him, by preaching up notions 
 : which he and they feem to have borrowed from cur religion, 
 ' of a right divine in kings, neither derived from human laws, 
 nor to be limited by them, and other ftich Mahometan tenets, 
 that had never been heard of before in this country : yet there 
 were many who difliked thefe innovations, and their oppofili- 
 : on hindered them irom taking deep root in any minds but 
 
 thole
 
 1 74 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 thofe of the royal family* Thefe obftinate proteftants and pa- ' 
 triots were branded with the name of Puritans, and much hated '. 
 by James, and Charles his fon, who, upon the deceafe or the 
 former, fucceeded to his kingdoms, his notions, and his defigns. 
 He had many better qualifications than his father, but as wrong 
 a judgment, and greater obftinacy. He carried his afFeSion 
 for the clergy, and abhorrence of the puritans, to an excels of 
 .bigotry and rage. He agreed fo ill with his parliaments, that the 
 foon grew weary of them, and refolved to be troubled with them 
 no more : none were called for twelve years togs' her, and all 
 that t ; me he governed as delpotically as the Ibphi of Perfia. 
 The laws were either openly mfi inged,or explained in the man- 
 ner he directed : he levied money upon his fubjeds againft pri- 
 vileges exprelsly confirmed by himielf. In fhort, his paition 
 for power might have been fully gratified, if his more prevailing 
 one to bigotry had not engaged him in a fenfelefs undertaking, 
 of forcing the fame form of worfhip upon hisfubjebin Scot- 
 land, as he had declared himfelf fo warmly for in England. It is 
 fafer to attack men in their civil rights, than their religious 
 opinions: the Scots, who had acquiefced under tyranny, took 
 up arms againft perfecution. Their infurre&ion made it n&- 
 ceffary to call a parliament; it met, but was inftantly diflblved 
 by the intemperate folly of the court. Ail hopes of better mea- 
 fures were put an end to by this latl provocation. The Scots 
 marched into England, and were received by the Englifh, 
 not as enemies, but as brothers and allies: the king, unable 
 to oppofe them, was compelled to afk the aid of another par- 
 liament. A parliament met, exafperated with the opprellions 
 of fifteen years : the principal members were men ot the great- 
 ell capacity, courage, and virtue, firmly united among them- 
 felves,and whom the- court could neither corrupt nor intimidate. 
 They refolved to make ule of the opportunity to redre/s their 
 grievances, andfecure their liberty ; the king granted every 
 thing that was necefjary to either of thofe ends, except fuch 
 fa-urities as might have been turned againft himfelf: but what, 
 perhaps, was really conceffion, had the appearance of conjlraint, 
 and therefore gained neither gratitude nor confidence: the na- 
 tion could no longer truft ihe king ; or, if it might, particular 
 men could not ; .and the fupport of thole particular men was 
 become a national concern : they had expofed themfelves by 
 ferving the public; the public therefore judged that it was 
 bound in juftice to defend them. Nor indeed was it pollible, 
 when the work of reformation was begun, after fo long a de- 
 nial ot juftice, to keep a people, fore with the remembrance 
 of injuries received, and fatisfaction rtfuied, within the 
 
 bounds
 
 LETTER LXII. 175 
 
 bounds of a proper moderation. Such a fobriety is much ea- 
 fier in fpeculation than it ever v. as in praaice. ' Thus, partly 
 for the fafety of their leaders, and partly from a jealoufy of 
 his intentions too juttly conceived, the parliament drew the 
 foord againft the king : but the fword, when drawn, was no 
 longer theirs ; it was quickly turned againft them by thofe to 
 whole hands they truded it : the honefteft and wifeft of both 
 parties were out-witted and over-powered by villains', the 
 king perifhed, and the conftitution perifhed with him. 
 
 A private man, whofe genius was called forth by the (roubles 
 of his country, and formed in the exercife of faaion, ufurptd 
 the government. His charader was as extraordinary as his 
 fortune: he had an a;r of enthufiafm which gained all thofe 
 who were real enthufiafts (the number of whom was great in 
 thofe days) and put him at. their head. That he was one him- 
 
 ilt in fome degree may be fuppofed, notwithstanding the pru- 
 dence wuh which he conduaed all his defigns ; becaufe the 
 lame fpark of enthufiafm vyhich makes common men mad, may, 
 in certain conjunaures, only capacitate others of fuperior abil- 
 ities to undertake and perform extraordinary things. Whether 
 ; Cromwell was one of thefe, or a a e d entirely from political 
 jcunntng, the times he lived in could not difcover, and much 
 lefs can the prefent. Thus far is certain, that, bv an uncom- 
 mon appearance of zeal, by great addrefs, and great valour, he 
 prtt inflamed the (pint of liberty into extravagance, and after- 
 wards duped and awed it mto ftAmiffhn. He trampled on the 
 Haws of the nation, but he railed the glory of it ; and it is hard 
 ;to fay which he deferved mod, a baiter or a crown. 
 
 If the emhufiailsofhisnwn party would have permitted him 
 
 > have taken the title of king as well as the power, it is pro- 
 bable the royalty might have been fixed in his family by a 
 toll-modeled and lading eftablimment. He mewed a 
 
 . 
 
 to carry that point ; and I have heard him compared in 
 Jthis infta:Ke to Julius Cae.ar, a great Roman general, u ho, like 
 jhim, having mattered his country by its own arms, and b-ire 
 poik>it of more than the power of a king, was fo fond of adding 
 the name to it, that it coil him his life. But the two cafes are 
 totally different. What in the Roman was a weak vanity and 
 below the re/1 of his charader, was in the Er.glimmanYohd 
 ;ood fenJe. The one could not take that name without de- 
 |itroyu- lg tbf firms of the Roman unfit ut ion, the other could 
 not prelerve the forms of the Engl-jb confitutim without taking 
 ;|hat name. He therefore did wifely in fee-king it ; but not 
 emg able to bring his own friends to confent to it, or to do it 
 agiimit their oppoiirion, he could make no Settlement of the 
 :;;ment to out-laft his own life : for it is hardly pofTble 
 
 from
 
 176 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 from the nature of things, that a dominion newly acquired 
 fhould long be maintained in any country, if the antienttbrms 
 and names are not kept up. Immediately after the death of 
 this great man, all order was loft in the (late : various tyrannies 
 were let up, and deftroyed each other; but all (hewed a republic 
 to be impracticable. At lad the nation, growing weary of fuch 
 wild confufion, agreed to recal the banifhed Ton of their mur- 
 dered king, not for his Jake, but for the fake of the monarcby t 
 which all the nation defired to rejlore\ and fo inconfiderate 
 was the zeal of thole times, that they reftored it without any 
 limitations, or any conditions made for the public. Thus the 
 fruits of a tedious civil war were lightly and carelefsly thrown 
 away by too hafty a paffion tor repofe. The constitution re* 
 vived indeed again, but revived as fickly as before : the ill hu- 
 mours, which ouc;ht to have been purged away by the violent 
 remedies that had been ufcd, continued as prevalent as ever, 
 and naturally broke out in the fame diftempers. The king 
 wanted to fet himfelf above the law ; wicked men encouraged 
 this difpofitiori, and many good men were weak enough to 
 comply with it, out of averfion to thofe principles of refinance 
 which they had feen fo fatally abufed. 
 
 LETTER LXIII. 
 
 SEI.IM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE methods purfued by Charles If. in the conduct 
 of his government, were in many refpecls different from 
 his father's, though the purpofe of both was much the fame. 
 The father always ///></ his parliaments; the fen endeavoured 
 to corrupt them : the father obftmately refufed to change his 
 minifters, becaufe he really efteemed them as honed men: the 
 fon very eafily changed bis, becaufe he thought they were all 
 alike difhoneft, and that his defigns might as well be carried 
 on by one knave as by another : the father was a tool of the 
 clergy, and a perfecutor, out of zeal !or his religion ; the fon 
 was almoft indifferent to religion, but ferved the pafTions of his 
 clergy againft the diffenters from motives of policy : the father 
 defired to be abfoluteat home, but to make the nation refpec- 
 table abroad : the fon aflifled the king of France in his inva- 
 fions on the liberties of Europe, that, by his help, he might 
 matter thole of England; nay, he was even a penfioner to : 
 France, and, by fo vile a proftitution of his dignity, fet an ex- 1 
 ample to the nobility of his realm, to fell their honour liktwife 
 
 tor
 
 LETTER LXHI. 177 
 
 for a pfnfton ; an example, the ill effeb of which have been 
 felt too fenfibly ever fince. 
 
 Yet with all thefe vices and imperfections in the character 
 of Charles the Second, there was fomething fo- bewitching in 
 his behaviour, that the charms of it prevailed on many to con- 
 nive at the faults of his government: and, indeed, nothing 
 can be fo hurtful to a country, which has liberties to defend, 
 as a prince who knows how at the fame time lo make himfelf 
 defpbticand agreeable: this was eminently the talent of Charles 
 the Second ; and what is moft furprifing, he poflfeft it with- 
 out any great depth of underftanding. 
 
 But the principal instrument of his bad intentions was, a 
 general depravity of manners, with which he took pains to in- 
 fect his court, and they the nation. AH virtues, both public 
 and private, were openly ridiculed ; and none were allowed 
 to have any talents for wit or bufinefs, who pretended to any 
 fenfe of honour, or regard to decency. 
 
 The king made great ufe of thefe new notions, and they 
 proved very pernicious to the freedom, as well as morals of 
 his fubjers ; but an indolence, natural to his temper, was 
 fome check to his defigns; and, fond as he was of arbitrary 
 power, he did not purfue it any further than was confiflent 
 with his pleafure and repofe, 
 
 His brother, who bore a great fway in his government, 
 had changed his religion abroad, as the king himfelf had alfo 
 done, but with this difference, that the latter retained almoft 
 as little of that which he embraced, as of that which he for- 
 fook ; whereas the former was a bigot to popery, and known 
 to be fuch, while the change of the king was a fecret to moft 
 of his fubje&s. The fear of a popifb fucceffor railed great 
 difcontent, and great diforders in the nation: the houfe of 
 commons paflTcd a bill for excluding that prince from the 
 icrown, founded undoubtedly in juftice and reafon ; but the 
 firmnefs of the king in that Jingle point, the complaifance 
 iof the lords, the jealoufy the church entertained of the dif- 
 ifenters, the fcruples of thofe who thought hereditary right 
 divine and indefeftble, and, above all, the fear of being in- 
 volved in a new civil war, which alarmed many well-mean- 
 ing people from a mixture of faflion that had difcovered it- 
 felf in fome of the cbaraflers, and in fome of the rr.eafures by 
 which the national caufe was then carried on, fruftratecl the 
 attempt to change the fuccejjion, as the obflinacy of thofc 
 .engaged in that attempt did all expedients to limit the fuccef- 
 for. The unhappy advantages all this gave to the king made 
 him a great deal more absolute in the laft years of hisrei^n 
 
 N
 
 178 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 than in all the foregoing ones ; and, upon hisdemife, brought 
 his brother in peace and triumph to the throne* He had not 
 been long feated there before he convinced the moft attached 
 to his party, that the apprehenfions conceived of him, and the 
 defign of excluding him, had been too juft. All that the fpi- 
 rit of bigotry could add to a temper in itfelf barfi and violent, 
 appeared in his government : all that a weak underjlanding, 
 madly coudufled, could undertake was undertaken ; arbitrary 
 power was the means ufed, and the end defigned was a change 
 of religion. Happy was it for England that this end fo plainly 
 declared itfelf , it roufed even thofe whom no danger to liberty 
 could have ever alarmed, and taught the preachers of non- 
 refiflence to refijl. A revolution was evidently neceflary to 
 fave the whole, and that neceflity produced one.- 
 
 Kingjames the Second loft his crown, and the nation gave it 
 to their deliverer the prince of Orange : the government was 
 fettled on a firmer foundation, agreeable to the antient Saxon 
 principles from which it had declined ; and by a happinefs pe- 
 culiar to itfelf, grew fl ronger from the flocks it had/i^j/MB 
 
 LETTER LXIV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE firft advantage gained by the Englifli nation in the 
 change of their government, was the utter extinction 
 of thofe vain and empty phantoms of hereditary indefeaftble 
 right, and a power fuperior to law, which king James the 
 Firft had conjured up, to the great disturbance and terror of 
 his people. With James the Second they were expelled, nor 
 can they ever be brought back again with any profpecfc of 
 fuccefs, but by that family alone, which claims from him : 
 for which reafon it will eternally be the intereft of the people 
 of England not to fuffer fuch a claim to prevail ; but to main- 
 tain an eftablifliment which is founded on the bafis of their li- 
 berty, and from which their liberty cannot be feparated, un- 
 lefs the rights of both are deftroyed. 
 
 As the parliament plainly difpofed of the crown in altering 
 the focceflion, the princes who have reigned fmce that time, 
 could pretend to none but a parliamentary titlf, and the fame 
 force as the legiflature could give to that, it alfo gave to the 
 privileges of the fubjecl. 
 
 The word loyalty, which had long been mifapplied, reco- 
 vered its original and proper fenfe ; it was now un^erftood to 
 mean no more than a due obedience to the authority of the 
 
 king,
 
 LETTER LXV. 179 
 
 king in conformity to the laws, inftead of a bigoted compli- 
 ance lo the will of the king, ill oppofition to the laws. 
 
 How great an advantage this muft be, w.ll appear by re- 
 flecting on the mifchiefs that have been brought upon tbit 
 country in particular, from the wrong interpretaiion of certain 
 names. But this is not the only benefit that enfued from that 
 happy Revolution. The prerogative of the crown had been 
 till then fo ill defined, that the full extent of it was rather 
 flopt by the degree of prudence in the government, or of im- 
 patience in the people, than by the letter of the law : nay, it 
 feemed as if in many inftances the law allowed a power to 
 the king, entirely dellru6tive to itfelf. Thus princes had been 
 often made to believe, that what their fubje&s complained df 
 as oppreilion, was a legal exercife of the rights of the crowrt: 
 and no wonder, if, in difputable points, they decided the 
 queftion in favour of their own authority. 
 
 But now the bounds of prerogative were marked out by ex- 
 prefs rettri&ions; the courfe of it became regular and fixed, 
 and could no longer move obliquely to the danger of the ge- 
 neral fyftem. 
 
 Let me alfo obferve to thee, that whereas before, to gwern 
 by parliaments was the policy only of good and wife princes'; 
 after this period, it may be confidered in a different light, be- 
 caufe all expedients of governing other-wife are plainly irrprac- 
 ticable, and it may not always imply a confirming the govern- 
 ment to the fenfe of the people. I will explain this to thte more 
 diftin&ly when I write again. In the mean while, let me a 
 little recall thy thoughts from part events, ard the biftory >jf 
 1 England, to the remembrance and love of thy faithful Stlim, 
 1 who is not become fo much an Englishman as to forget his 
 1 native Perfia, but perpetually fighs for his friends and coun- 
 try amidft all that engages his attention in a foreign land. 
 
 LETTER LXV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan* 
 
 Prom London. 
 
 HE antient revenues of the kings of England conftft- 
 ed chiefly in a large demtfne of lands, and certain rights 
 ' and powers referved to them over the lands held of the crown ; 
 by means of which they fupported the royal dignity without 
 the immediate afli ftance of the people, except upon extraordi- 
 nary occafions. Bur, in procefs of time, the extravagance of 
 princes, and the rapacioufnefs of favourites having wafted the 
 beft part of this eilate, and their fucceffors endeavcurirg to 
 N a repilt
 
 i8o PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 repair it by a tyrannical abufe of thofe rights and powers, 
 fome of them, which were found to be moft grievous, were 
 brought off by the parliament, with a fixed eftablifhment for 
 the maintenance of the houfhold, compofed of certain taxes 
 yearly raifed, and appropriated thereto. 
 
 But after the expuljion of the Stuarts the expence of the 
 government being augmented for the defence of the fucceflion, 
 the crown was constrained to apply to parliament, not only 
 for the maintenance of its houmould, which was fettled at 
 the beginning of every reign, and in every reign conjiderably 
 tnereafed ; not only for extraordinary fupplies, to which end 
 parliaments anciently were called j but for the ordinary fer- 
 vice of the year. 
 
 Thus a continual dependance on the people became necef- 
 fary to kings, and they were fo truly the fervants of the 
 public, that they received the wages of it in fofm, and were 
 obliged to the parliament for the means of exercifing the roy- 
 alty, as well as for the right they had to claim it. Nor can 
 this falutary dependance ever ceafe, except the parliament it- 
 felf mould give it up, by impowering the king to raife money 
 without limiting the fum, orfpec ifying the fervices. Such con- 
 ceflions are abfurd in their own nature ; for if a prince is afraid 
 to truft his people with a power of fupplying his neceflities 
 upon a thorough knowledge of them, the people have no en- 
 couragement to truft their prince, or, to fpeak more proper- 
 ly, his minifler, with fo blind and undetermined an authority. 
 
 LETTER LXVI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 YOU have feen in my laft, that from the time of king 
 James's expulfion, annual meetings of parliament were 
 become neceflary to the carrying on the government. But 
 that the reprefentatives of the people from too long a delega- 
 . tion of their authority might not forget by whom, and/or what 
 it was given them ; and that the people might be enabled to 
 correa a bad choice, which experience mould prove to be fuch, 
 it was thought expedient not long after to pafs a law for the 
 chufing a new parliament at the end of every three years. This 
 term has been fmce prolonged lojeven, I think for very good 
 reafons ;.becaufe the country intereft could not fupport the re- 
 doubled expence of contefting with court-corruption fo much 
 -opener than now, and there are no good grounds to fuppofe 
 
 that 

 
 LETTER LXVI. iSj 
 
 that the efforts on that fide would be much lefs for a trien- 
 nial than a feptennial parliament, a majority in that being 
 equally neceffary to a court as in this: fo that the attacks 
 would be the fame, or near the fame, and the refinance much 
 weaker on the fide of the people. If then the good propofed 
 by Ihortening the term be very uncertain, it muft be confider- 
 cd that very great and certain evils attend upon frequent 
 elections, viz. the inflaming of party-divifions, depraving the 
 morals of the people, and many other inconveniences of no 
 little weight. However, this is a point about which I have 
 found the beft men differ, and which thou wilt therefore 
 confider as more problematical than others I have mention- 
 ed before. I now return to my hiftory. 
 
 Among other advantages gained to liberty at tbit its bappy 
 
 reparation, a free exercife of their religion was allowed to 
 
 thofe who differ from the rites of the Englifh church, which 
 
 has been continued and fecured to them everfince, with fome 
 
 Ihort interruptions, which even the party that caufed them, 
 
 is now ajbamed of. Nor has any thing contributed more 
 
 . than this to the peace and happinefs of the government, by 
 
 gaining it the affection of all its fubje&s, and taking from 
 
 , the fpirit of faction a pretence, and a ftrength, of which it 
 
 has often made a very bad ufe. 
 
 I muft alfo obferve to thee, that from this period a dif- 
 ferent temper has fhewn itfelf in the clergy of England. 
 They are become better friends to liberty, better fubje&s, 
 better Engliflimen, than they had ufually been either before, 
 x>r fince the Reformation, Some among them have writ in 
 defence of the religious and civil rights of mankind with as 
 free a fpirit, and as much force of learning and argument, as 
 any layman has ever done ; a merit peculiar to themfelves, 
 and to which no fiber clergy in the whole world can pretend. 
 , The generality of them are now very moderate, quitt, and 
 . vfeful members of the commonwealth, in due fubmiflion to the 
 I civil authority, and defiring nothing but what they deferve, 
 i the protection of government in the enjoyment vf their juft 
 i rights. They who would deny them that, are themfelves 
 perfecutors, dijlurbers -of government, and ve ry ^bad members 
 of the commonwealth, 
 
 This fucceffion was facilitated and fecured by the union of 
 Scotland with England ; and Greai Britain became infinitely 
 ftronger, by being undivided, entire, and wholly an ifland. 
 
 One condition of that union was, the admitting fixteen 
 
 Scotch peers, chofen by the whole body of the peerage, into 
 
 the Englifh houfe of lords, bijf upon a tenure very different 
 
 N 3 from
 
 ,82 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 from the reft, being to fit there only for the duration of the 1 
 parliament, at the end of which, a new eleflion muft be made. 
 If thofe elections are free and uninfluenced, this alteration in 
 the Englifli conftitution may prove very much to its advan- 
 tage, becaufe fuch a number of independent votes will ba- 
 lance any part of the boufe of 'peers, over which the court may 
 have obtained too great an ii.fluence ; but if they (hculd ever 
 be cbofen by corruption, and have no hopes of fitting there 
 again, except by an unconstitutional dependence on the favour 
 of a court, then fuch a number added to the others would 
 grievoufly endanger the ccnftitution, and the houfe of lords, 
 inftead of being, as it ought, a mediating powtr between the 
 crown and the people, would become a fort of anti-chamber 
 to the court, a mere office for executing and autbo- ifing the 
 purpofes of a minijler. 
 
 I have now, my dear Mirza, traced thee out a general 
 plan of the Englifli conftitution, and I believe thou wilt agree 
 with me upon the whole, that a better can hardly be con- 
 trived ; the only misfortune is, that/o good a one can hardly 
 be preferred. 
 
 The great diftin&ion between the ancient plan of it, and 
 that which has taken place fince the expulfion of the Stuarts 
 is this, that the firfl was lefs perfect, but better fecured, be- 
 caufe the nobility and people had the f-word in their bands j 
 whereas the laft is more regular, fubjeft to fewer diforders, 
 and in the frame of it more free, but /'// fecured, the fword 
 being only in the hands of the king : to which is added a vaft 
 encreafe of the wealth of the crown, and a mighty influence 
 gained to it by the debts of the public, which have brought 
 on new taxes, new powers for the railing thofe taxes, of a 
 very dangerous nature, and a prodigious multiplication of 
 officers wholly dependent upon the court ; from all which the 
 court has acquired new means of corruption, without any 
 new effectual fecurities againft that corruption being yet gain- 
 ed on the fide of the people. And this fort of power is fo 
 much more-to be feared than any other, as it cannot be exer- 
 cifed without depraving the morals, and debaftng the fpirit of 
 the whole people, which in the end would not only enflave 
 them, but render their fervitude -voluntary, deferred, and 
 remedijefs. 
 
 LET-
 
 E 1 83 I 
 LETTER LXVIT. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 IN former reigns, when parliaments were laid afide for 
 any length of time, the whole authority of ihe ftate was 
 lodged in a privy council, by the advice and direction of 
 which, all affairs were carried on. But thefe councilors be- 
 ' ing cbojfn by the king, and depending on his favour, were 
 i too apt to advife luch things only, as they knew would be 
 moil agreeable ; and thus the imeiefts of the nation were 
 otten Lcrificed to the profit and expectations of a few parti- 
 culars. Yet flill, as on extraordinary occafions the king 
 i might be forced to call a parliament, the fear of it was feme 
 check to their proceedings ; and a degree of caution was na- 
 i tural to men who forefaw they fhould fooner or later be called 
 to an account. But let us fuppofe, that any future prince 
 could wholly influence the eleflion of a parliament, and make 
 the members of it dependent on bimfelj, what would be the 
 1 difference between that parliament and a privy council ? 
 would it fpeak the fenfe of the nation, or of the court ? 
 would the intereft of the people be confidered in if, or that of 
 : their reprefentatives ? They would only differ in this refpeft, 
 i that one, having no power above it, might be abfolutely free 
 ' from all rejlraint, which, with the terror of a parliament 
 ! hanging over, it, the other never could. 
 
 This is the only imaginable method, by which the liberty 
 
 ' of the Englifh nation can be attacked with any fuccefs ; but 
 
 i thou wilt a(k to what end mould an attack of this nature be 
 
 made. Why (hould a king of England go about to deftroy 
 
 a conftitution, the maintenance of which would render him 
 
 ; both great and happy ? 
 
 I reply, that a king indeed can have no reasonable induce- 
 i ment to make fuch an experiment, but a minifter may find it 
 ; necefTary for his own fupport ; and happy would it have been 
 1 for many countries, if-the majler''* interert had been confidered 
 ' by thefervant half fo warmly as the fervant's by the mafter. 
 If a man who travels through Italy was to afk, what ad- 
 vantage all the wealth in religious houfes, and all the idula- 
 trous worfhip paid there, are to the faints they are dedicated 
 to? The anfwer muft be, Of none at all. But the prieils, 
 who are really gainers by them, know that they abufe the 
 people to very good purpofe ; and make ufe of a venerable 
 name, not from any regard they have to it, but to raife their 
 N 4 own
 
 184 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 6wn greatncfs, fwell their own pride, and cover and fecure 
 their own extortion. 
 
 By the weaknefs therefore of princes, the arts of minifters, 
 and the fedution of the people againft their own interefls, 
 the conftitution of England only can perifh, and probably 
 will perifh at laft. This will happen fooner or later, as more 
 or lefs care is taken by thofe whofe duty it is to watch over 
 it. I am not ignorant that there are fome vifionary men, 
 who dream of fchemes to perpetuate it beyond all pofllbility 
 of future change : but I have always thought the fame of po- 
 litical projects to render a government, as of chemical pro- 
 jects to render a man immortal. Such a grand elixir cannot 
 be found ; and thole who would tamper with ftates in hopes 
 of procuring them that immortality, are the moft unfit to 
 prefcribe to them of all men in the world. But at the fame 
 time that I know this, I alfo know, that the date of a go- 
 vernment may be prolonged by proptr and falutary remedies, 
 applied by thofe who underftand its true nature, and join to 
 fpeculative wifdom, experience and temper. Nor fliouid 1 
 think it nil a better excufe for afilfting to ruin the conflitution 
 of my country, that it muft come to an end, and perhaps bfgint 
 to decay-, than for joining in the murder of my father, -that 
 lie muft die at AT/?, and begins to grow old. 
 
 LETTER LXVIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpaban. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THE other morning, a friend of mine came to me, and 
 told me, with the air of one who brings an agreeable 
 piece of news, that there was a lady who moft paffionately 
 defired the pleafure of my acquaintance, and had commiflion- 
 ed him to carry me to fee her. I will not deny to thee, that 
 my vanity was a little flattered with this meflage : I fancied 
 {he had feen me in fome public place, and taken a liking to 
 my perfon ; not being able to comprehend what other motive 
 could make her fend for a man (he was a ftranger to in fo free 
 and extraordinary a manner. I painted her in my own ima- 
 gination very young, and very handfome, and fet out with 
 moft pleafing expeaations, to fee the conqueft I had made : 
 but when I arrived at the place of affignation, I found a little 
 old woman very dirty, encircled by four or five ftrange fel- 
 lows, one of whom had a paper in his hand, which he was 
 reading to her with all the emphafis of an author. 
 
 Mjf
 
 LETTER LXVIII. 185 
 
 My coming in obliged him to break off, which put him a 
 good deal out of humour ; but the lady, underflanding who 
 1 was, received me with great fatisfa&ion, and told me, fhe 
 had long had acunofity to be acquainted with a Mahometan : 
 for you muft know, faid fhe, that I have applied myfelf par- 
 ticularly to the ftudy of theology, and by profound meditation 
 and enquiry have formed a religion of my own, much better 
 than the vulgar one in all refpe&s. I never admit any body to 
 my houfe, who is not diflinguifhed from the common herd of 
 cbrijlians by feme extraordinary notion in divinity : all thele 
 gentlemen are eminently heretical, each in a way peculiar to 
 himfelf : they are fo good to do me the honour of inftru&ing 
 me in their feveral points of faith, and fubmit their opinions 
 to my judgement. Thus, Sir, I have compofed a private fy- 
 flem, which mufl neceflarily be perfe&er than any, becaufe 
 it is collected out of all ; but to compleat it, I want a little 
 of the Koran, a book which I have heard fpoken of mighty 
 handfomely by many learned men of my acquaintance : and 
 J affure you, Sir, I fhould have a very good opinion of Ma- 
 homet himfelf, if he was not a little too hard upon the ladies. 
 Be fo kind therefore to initiate me in your myjleries, and you 
 lhall find me very docile and very grateful. 
 
 Madam, replied I in great confufion, I did not come to" 
 England as a mifftonary, and was never verfed in religiour 
 difputation. But if a Perfian tale would entertain you, I 
 could tell you one that the Eaftern ladies are mighty fond of. 
 
 A Perfian tale ! cried fhe ; have you the infolence to offer 
 me a Perfian tale! Really, Sir, I am not ufed to be fo affronted. 
 
 At thefe words, fhe retired into her clofet, with her whole 
 train of metapbyficians, and left my friend and me to go away, 
 as unworthy of any further communion with her. 
 
 LETTER LXIX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 WOuld'ft thou know, Mirza, the prefent /late of Eu- 
 rope ? I will give it thee in very few words. There 
 is one nation in it, which thinks of nothing but how to prey 
 upon the others, while the others are entirely taken up with 
 preying upon tbemfefaes. There is one nation where parti- 
 culars take a pride in the glory of their country ; while in 
 the others no glory is confidered, but that of raifing or im- 
 proving a va ft eftate. There is one nation which, though 
 able in negociation, putsits principal confidence in tbefevsrd^ 
 
 while
 
 186 PERSIAN LETTERS, 
 
 while the others truft wholly to the pen, though much lefs 
 capable of ufmg it with advantage. There is one nation 
 which invariably purfues a great flan of general dominion, 
 while tbe others are purfuing little intere/is, through a laby- 
 rinth of changes and contradictions. What, Mirza, doft 
 ihou think will be the confequence ? Is it not probable that 
 ibis nation will in the end be lord of all the reft ? It certainly 
 mufl one thing only can hinder it, which is, that the fear of 
 falling under that yoke, when the peril appears to be immi- 
 nent, may raile a different fpirit in all tboje nations, and work 
 out their fafety from their danger itftlf. 
 
 LETTER LXX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I WAS the other day in a coffee-houfe, where I found a man 
 declaiming upon the prefent flate of Perfia, and fo warm 
 for the interefts of Tamas Kouli Kan, our invincible gene- 
 ral (a), that if it had not been for his language and drefs, I 
 fhould have taken him for a Perfian. 
 
 Sir, faid I, are you acquainted with Tamas Kouli Kan, 
 that you concern yourfelf ihus about him ? No, faid he, I 
 was never out of England ; but I love the Peifians, for be- 
 ing enemies to the Turks. 
 
 What hurt have the Turks done you, anfwered I, that you 
 bear fuch enmity againft them ? 
 
 Sir, replied he, I am afraid they fhould hurt the emperor ', 
 whofe friend I have always declared myfelf. 
 
 I enquired of a gentleman that fate by me, who this FRIEND 
 OF THE EMPEROR might be ? and was told that he was a 
 dancing- majler in St. James's- ftreet. 
 
 For my part (faid a young gentleman finely dreft, that 
 flood fipping a dim of tea by the fire- fide) I do not care if 
 Tamas Kouli Kan, and the great Turk, and all the Perfians 
 and emperors in Europe were at the bottom of the fea, pro- 
 vided Farinelli be but fafe. 
 
 The indifference of this gentleman furprifed me more than 
 the importance of the other. 
 
 If you are concerned for Farinelli, faid a third (who, they 
 told me, was achemift) perfuade him to take my drop, and 
 that will fecure him frcm the humidity of the Englifh air, 
 which may very much prejudice his voice. 
 
 (</} By thefe wrds it appears, that thefe Letters were writ be- 
 fore Tamas Kouli Kan ufurpe J the throne 
 
 Will
 
 LETTER LXXI. 187 
 
 Will it not alfo make a man of him again, faid a gentleman 
 to the doctor ? After the miracles we have been told it has 
 performed, there is nothing more wanting but fucb a cure to 
 compleat its reputation. 
 
 LETTER LXXI. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZ:A at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 A FRIEND of mine was talking to me fome days ago of 
 the fpirit of enthufiafm, which appeared fo ttrongly in 
 the hrft prokflbrs of our religion ; and, as he pretended, in 
 the prophet himfelf : to that chiefly he afcribed their mighty 
 conquefts, and obferved, that there needed nothing more to 
 render them invincible, fuch a fpirit being conftantly attended 
 with a contempt of pleafure and of eafe, of danger and of pain. 
 If, faid he, the enthufiafts of this country, in the re:gn of 
 Charles the Firtt, had been united among themfelves, like 
 the Arabians under Mahomet and his fucceflbrs, I make no 
 doubt but they might have conquered all Europe : but un- 
 happily their enthufiafm was directed to different points ; 
 fome were bigots to the church of England, fome to Calvin, 
 fome to particular whimfies of their own ; one fet of them 
 ran mad for a republic, others were no lefs out of their wits 
 in the love of monarchy ; fo that inftead of making them- 
 felves formidable to their neighbours, they turned the edge of 
 their fury againft each other, and deftroyed all peace and or- 
 der here at home. Yet as much as our ancestors fuffered 
 then by the wrong direction of their zeal, 1 wifh the prefent 
 age may not fuffer more by the total -want of if among us, 
 There is fo cold and lifelefs an unconcern to every thing but 
 a narrow, private intereft ; we are fo little in earneft about 
 religion, virtue, honour, or the good of our country ; that 
 unlefs fome fpark of the ancient fire mould revive, I am 
 afraid we (hall jeft away our liberties, and all that is ferious 
 to our happinefs. If the great Mr. Hampden had converfed 
 with our modern race of wits, he would have been told, that 
 it was a ridiculous entbuftafm, to trouble himfelf about a 
 trifling fum of money, becaufe it was raifed againft the pri- 
 vileges of the people ; and that he might get a thoufand 
 times more than he difputed for, by a prudent fubmiffion. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ i88 ] 
 
 LETTER LXXII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 THERE is a new fcience produced in Europe of late 
 years, entirely unknown to any former age, or to any 
 other part of the world, which is called TREATY LEARNING. 
 I have been let into a general idea of it, by a very ingenious 
 friend of mine, who has acquired a confiderable talent in it, 
 having ferved an apprenticefhip of twenty years under diffe- 
 rent matters in foreign courts, and made, in a political fenfe, 
 the tour of Europe. He tells me, it is a very extenfive fludy ; 
 for not only the rights of every prince, but their inclinations 
 to the rights of any other, are therein fet forth and compre- 
 hended. This has branched itfelf out into an infinity of fe- 
 tarate and fecret article* ', engagements, counter-engagements, 
 memorials, remonflrances, declarations ; all which the learn- 
 ed in this fcience are required to know perfectly by heart, 
 that they may be ready upon occafion to apply them, or 
 elude their application, as the intereft of their matters (hall 
 demand. 
 
 He (hewed me ten or twelve volumes lately publifhed, con- 
 fitting only of the treaties which have been made fince the 
 beginning of this century, four or five of which were quite 
 filled with thofe of England. 
 
 Sure, faid I, this huge heap of negociations could never 
 have been employed aboutthe bufinefs of this little fpot of 
 earth for fo fmall a fpace of time as thirty years ? No, the 
 affairs of all Europe mutt be fettled in them, for the next 
 century at leafl.- For the next fejjion of parliament, anfwered 
 he ; tbefe political machines are feldom mounted to go longer 
 than that period, without being taken to pieces, or new- 
 wound-up. 
 
 But how, faid I, could England, which is an ifland, be 
 enough concerned in what pafles on the continent, to undergo 
 all this labour in adjufting it ? 
 
 O, replied he, we grew weary of being confined within 
 the narrow verge of our own inter ejls ; we thought it looked 
 more confiderable to expatiate, and give our talents room to 
 play. But this was not the only end of our continual and 
 reftlefs agitation : it may frequently be the intereft of a mi- 
 nifter, if he finds things in a calm, to trouble the -waters, 
 and work up a ftorm about him ; if not to perplex and coi- 
 found thofe above him, yet to einbarrafs and intimidate the 
 competitors or rivals of his power. 
 
 Perhap*
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 189 
 
 Perhaps too, there might be ftill a deeper motive : thefe en- 
 gagements are for the moft part pretty chargeable ; and thofe 
 who are obliged to make them good, complain that they are 
 much the poorer for them; but it is not fure, that tboje who 
 form them are fo too. 
 
 As far, faid 1, as my little obfervalion can enable me to judge 
 of thefe affairs, the multiplicity of your treaties is as hurtful as 
 the multiplicity of your laws. In Afia, a few plain words are 
 found fufficient to fettle the differences of particulars in a ftate, 
 or of one ftate with another; but here you run into volumes 
 npon both ; and what is the effeft of it ? Why after great trou- 
 ble and great expence, you are as far from a decifrm. as before ; 
 nay, often more puzzled and confounded. The only diftinc- 
 tion feems to be, that in your law fuits, perplexing as they are, 
 there is at laft, a rule of equity to refort to ; but in the other 
 difputes, the laft appeal is to the iniquitous rule offeree, and 
 princes treat by the mouths of their great guns, which foon 
 demolifh all the paper on both fides, and tear to pieces every 
 tobweb of negociation. 
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I" W A S lately at a tavern with a fet of company very oddly 
 1 put together : there was a country gentleman, a man of 
 loneft principles, but extremely a bigot to his religion, which 
 yas that of the diurch of Rome; there was a lawyer, who 
 .vas a very good proteftant, moderate to thofe who differed 
 Tom him in points of belief, but zealous in the caufe of civil 
 iberty; there was a courtier, who feemed not to believe any 
 hing, and to be angry with every body that did. 
 : This laft, very rudely attacked the faith of the poor country 
 gentleman, and laid open to him the frauds of the Roman 
 >rieft-hcod, who, by flow, but regular degrees, had ere&ed 
 uch a tyranny over the minds and fpirits of the people, that 
 lothing was too grofs for them to impofe, or too arrogant to 
 i flume. He fet forth the vaft difference between a bijbop in 
 ihe primitive ages of chriftianity, and a pope, with a triple 
 rown upon his head, and half the wealth of Chriftendom in 
 lis treaftiry. He lamented the fimplicity of thofe, who, 
 vuhout looking back to the original of things, imagine that 
 11 is right which they find eflablijbed\ and miftake the cor- 
 uptions of afyjlem for \hzjyficm itfelf: he inveighed againft 
 
 the
 
 I 9 o PERSIAN L E T T E- R 8. 
 
 the pufillanimity of others, who though they/^ the corrup- 
 tions, and detejl them, yet fuffer them to continue unreform- 
 ed y only becaufe they have been tolerated fo long ; as if any 
 evil was left dangerous, by being grown habitual. 
 
 He concluded, by declaiming very eloquently on the ufe and 
 advantage otjree-thinking, that is, of doubting and examining 
 every article propofed to our belief, which alone could deted 
 thefe impofitions, and confound the ill purpofes of their au- 
 thors ; mixing, in the courfe of his talk, with thefe juft re- 
 flexions, many licentious luitticifms againft what all religion 
 and all pbilofophy have ever accounted facred and venerable. 
 
 His antagonift had little to reply, but intrenched himfelf in 
 the neceflity of fubmitting to the authority of the church, and 
 the danger of allowing private judgment to call in quefHon her 
 decifions. 
 
 The difpute would have been turned into a quarrel by the 
 zeal of one, and the afperity of the other, had not the lawyer 
 very feafonably interpofed, who, addrefling himfelf to the ad- 
 vocate for freedom, defired to know, whether liberty in tempo- 
 rals was not of importance to mankind, as well as liberty in 
 fpirituals? how then comes it, that you who are fo warm for 
 the maintenance of the lajl, are fo notorioufly indifferent to the 
 firfl ? to what (hall we afcribe the mighty difference between 
 your POLITICAL and RELIGIOUS FAITH ? and whence is 
 it that the former is fo eafy, and the latter fo intraflable? 
 can tboje who are thus quick-fighted in the frauds of ecclef** 
 aftical dominion fee no juggling at all in their civil rulers f 
 are the impofttions lefs glaring or more tolerable, which they 
 both acquiefce in and fupport, than thofe which they fo vio- 
 lently oppofe ? Let us take the very inftance you have given. 
 Is a pope more unlike to a cbrijlian bifiop, than a fole mi- 
 nifler to an officer ofafreeftate? if you look back to theor/^/- 
 nal of things, what traces will you find offucb an office? in 
 what antient constitution can you difcover the foundations of 
 fucb a power? is not thia moft manifeft corruption, grow 
 ing out often thoufand corruptions, and naturally productive 
 of ten thoufand more? if you fay thefe are my/leries of Jlate, 
 and therefore 'not to be examined; I am fure the myjhries you 
 attack have yet a better title to your refpe&, and lefs mifchief 
 Will attend on their remaining not fubjeQ: to enquiry. 
 
 Or will you borrow the arguments of your adverfary, and 
 plead the necpffity of fubmijjion, and the danger of fetting up 
 renfon againft authority? if fo, I would only put you in mind, 
 that all authority flows from reafon, and ought to lofe its force 
 in proportion as it deviates from its fource. 
 
 It
 
 LETTER LXXIIT. 191 
 
 It is a jeft to fay, that mankind cannot be governed without 
 tbefe impofttions ; they were governed happily before tbeje were 
 invented, much more happily than they have been ever fince: 
 as well may it be faid, that chriftian piety, which was efta- 
 blimed in plain dealing and fimplicity, muft be fupporttd by 
 the knavery and pageantry introduced in late ages by the 
 church of Rome. But the truth is, that moft men do in the 
 ftatejuft what you fay has been done in the church; they 
 maintain abufes by prefcription, and make the bad condition 
 things are in, an argument for letting ihemgrow tvorfe. 
 
 1 Cannot, faid I, debate with the gentleman who has at- 
 tacked the abufes of ecclefiaftical power upon the particular 
 fa<5ts he has aflerred, nor will I wholly deny the conclufions 
 he draws from thofe fats. But it feems to me that he has 
 often confounded two things entirely different; a juft regard 
 to religion, without which no focicty can long fubfift, and a 
 weak attachment to what either folly or knavery may have 
 grafted upon religion, and fan&ified under that name. To 
 diflinguim thefe is the part of a man of fenfe, and a good man ; 
 ;but to attack both without any diftm&ion, to attack the firft 
 ;becaufe of the laft, is at leaft as far from true wifdom as fti- 
 perftition itfelf. Can a worfe corruption, or a more dreadful 
 diforder, arife in any government than an open contempt of 
 religion, avowed and profeffed ; a nation where that prevails 
 iis on the brink of deftrution. What degree of refpeft or 
 ifubmifiion is due to particular religious opinions, even to thofe 
 ,that are not effential, I will not take upon me now todifpute; 
 but this I am fureof, that a blind confidence in temporal affairs 
 agrees very ill with doubt in fpirituals. A free enquirer into 
 ipoints of fpeculation ftiould, beyond all others, be afhamed of 
 a tame compliance in points of action. 
 
 The unthinking may be paflive from delufion, or at lead 
 from inadvertency ; but the greatejl m'mjler and -worjl crimi- 
 nal in fociety, is a FREE-THINKING SLAVE. 
 
 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahao. 
 
 From London. 
 
 VERY nation has fome peculiar excellence by which 
 it is diftinguifhtd from its neighbours, and of which 
 without vanity it may boaft: thus Italy produces the fineft 
 finger s\ England the flouted boxers ; Germany the profoundeft 
 theologians ; and France is incomparable for its COOKS. This 
 laft advantage carries the palm from all the reft, and that na- 
 tion
 
 I 9 2 PERSIAN LETTERS. 
 
 tion has great reafon to be proud of it, as a talent of univerfal 
 currency; and for which all other countries do them homage : 
 on this fingle perfection depends the pleafure, the magnificence, 
 the pride, nay the reputation of every court in Europe ; with- 
 out a good French cook there is no embaffador can poflibly do 
 his matter's bufmefs ; no fecretary of ftate can hold his office, 
 no man of quality can fupport his rank and dignity. A friend 
 of mine, who frequently has the honour to dine at the tables 
 of the great, for which he pays no higher price than his vote 
 in parliament, has fometimes obliged me with the bill of fare, 
 and (as near as he could) an eftimate of the charge which thefe 
 genteel entertainments are attended with. I told him, thai 
 their dinners put me in mind of what I had heard about their 
 politicks : they are artificial, unfubjlantial and un-vubolefome, 
 but at the fame time moil ruinaujfy expenfrve. Sure, laid I, 
 your great men muft have digejlions prodigioufly fharp and 
 ftrong, to carry off fuch a load of various meats as are ferved 
 up to them every day ! they muft not only be made with 
 beads and hearts, but v/itlijtomacbs very different from other 
 people ! 
 
 Not in the leaff, anfwered he They feldom touch any of 
 the dainties that are before them: thofe dainties, like the 
 women in your feraglios, are more intended for ornament than 
 vfe. There is always a plain difh fet in a corner, a homely joint 
 of Englifh beef or mutton, on which the mafter of the feaft 
 makes his dinner, and two or three choice friends, who are 
 allowed to have a cut with him out of fpecial grace and fa- 
 vour, while the reft are languifhing in vain for fuch a happi- 
 nefs, and piddling upon ortolans and truffles. 
 
 I have feen a poor country gentleman fit down to one of 
 thefe fine dinners with an extream diflike to the French 
 cookery; yet, for fear of being counted unpolite, not daring 
 to refufe any thing that was offered him ; but cramming and 
 fweating with the ftruggle between his averfion and civility, 
 
 Why then, faid I, this continual extravagance? why thi; 
 number of victims daily facrificed to the daemon of luxury i 
 how is it worth a man's while to undo himfelf, perhaps te 
 undo his country, that his board may be graced with pates o 
 perigord, when his guefts had rather have the fowl from hi 
 barn-door? your comparifon of the feraglio will not hold ; fo 
 though indeed there is an unneceffary variety, yet they are DO 
 all ferved up to us together ; we content ourfelves with one o 
 two of them at a meal, and referve the reft for future enter 
 tainments. I concluded with repeating to him a ftory, whic 
 is taken out of the annals of our kings. 
 
 Scha!
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 193 
 
 Schah Abbas, at the beginning of his reign, was more 
 luxurious than became fo great a prince. One might have 
 , judged of the vaftnefs of his empire, by the variety of difhes 
 ; at his table : fome were fent him from the Euphrates and 
 . Perfian gulph, others from the Oxus and Cafpian fea. One 
 ;day, when he gave a dinner to his nobles, Mahomet Ali, 
 keeper of the three tombs, was placed next to the bed difh 
 iof all the feaft, out of refpecl for the dignity of his office : 
 ibut inrtead of falling-to, and eating heartily, as holy men are 
 'wont to do, he fetched a difmal groan, and fell a weeping. 
 'Schah Abbas, furprifed at his behaviour, defired him to ex- 
 iplain it to the company : he would fain have been excufed, 
 ibut the fophi ordered him, on pain of his difpleafure, to ac- 
 iquaint them with the caufe of his diforder. 
 
 Know then fa'ui he, O monarch of the earth, that when I 
 jfaw thy table covered in this manner, it brought to my mind a 
 idream or rather vifion which was fent me from the prophets 
 whom I ferve : on the feventh night of the moon Rhamazan, 
 I was fleeping under the fhade of the facred tombs, when, me- 
 :hought, the holy ravens of the fan&uary bore me up on 
 :heir wings into the air, and in a few moments conveyed me to 
 .he lowed heaven, where the meffenger of God, on whom be 
 peace, was fitting in his luminous tribunal, to receive petitions 
 .rom the earth. Around his ftood an infinite throng of animals, 
 >f every fpecies and quality, which all joined in preferring a 
 r;lomplaint againfl thee, Schah Abbas, for deftroyingr them wan- 
 only .and tyrannically, beyond what any neceflity could juflify, 
 f r any natural appetite demand. 
 
 j It was alledged by them, that ten or twelve of them were 
 ften murdered, to compofe one difh for the nicenefs of thy 
 alate ; fome gave their tongues only, fome their bowels, fome 
 heir fat, and others their brains or blood. In fliort, they 
 eclare, fuch conflant wafte was made of them, that unlefs a 
 op was put' to it in time, they mould perim entirely by thy 
 luttony. The prophet, hearing this, bent his brows, and 
 rdered fix vultures to fetch thee alive before him : they in- 
 antly brought thee to his tribunal, where he commanded thy 
 omach to be opened, and examined whether it was bigger or 
 lore capacious than thofe of other men : when it was found to 
 : - juft of the common f)7,e, he permitted all the animals to 
 'iake reprizals on the body of their deftroyer ; but before one 
 'i ten thoufand could get at thee, every particle of it was de- 
 mred ; fo iil-proportioned was the offender to the offence. 
 This ftory made fuch an impreflion on the fophi, that he 
 ould not fufifer above one dim of meat to be brought to his 
 ble ever after. 
 
 O LETTER
 
 i 94 LETTER LXXVI. 
 
 LETTER LXXVI. 
 
 To IBRAHIM MOLLAC at Ifpahan.' 
 
 From London. 
 
 YES, holy Mollac, lam more and more convinced of it j 
 infidelity is certainly attended with a fpirit of infatua- 
 tion. The prophet hurts the understandings of thofe who 
 refufe to receive his holy law j he punifhes the hardnefs of 
 their hearts, by the depravation of their judgments. How 
 can we otherwife account for what I have feen fmce my ar- 
 rival among Chriftians ? 
 
 I have feen a people, whofe very being depends on com- 
 merce, fuffer luxury and the heavy load of taxes to ruin their 
 manufactures at home, and turn the balance againft them 
 in foreign trade ! 
 
 I have feen them glory in the greatnefs of their wealth, 
 when they are reduced every year to carry or. the expences 
 of government, by robbing the very fund which is to eafe 
 them of a debt of fifty millions ! 
 
 I have feen them fit out fleets, augment their forces, exprefs 
 continual fears of an invafion, and fuffer continual depreda- 
 tions upon their merchants from a contemptible enemy, yet 
 all the while hug themfelves in the notion of being bleft 
 with a profound and lofting peace ! 
 
 I have feen them wrapped up in full fecurity, upon the 
 flourifhing ftate of public credit, only becaufe they had a 
 prodigious Jiock of paper, which now, indeed, they circulate 
 as money ; but which the firft alarm of a calamity may, in 
 an inftant, make meer paper of again ! 
 
 I have feen them conftantly bufied in pajjlng laws for the 
 better regulation of their police, and never taking any care 
 of tfieir execution: loudly declaring the abufes of their go- 
 vernment, and quietly allowing them to encreafe ! 
 
 I have feen them diftreft for want of bands to carry on 
 their hufbandry and manufactures, yet permitting thousands 
 of their people to be deftroyed, or rendered ufelefs and hurt- 
 ful to fociety, by the abominable ufeof fpirituous liquors ! 
 
 I have feen them make fuch a provifion for their poor, as 
 would relieve all their wants, if well applied ; and fuffer a 
 third part of them toftarve, from the roguery and riot ol 
 thofe entrufted with the care of them ! 
 
 But the greatcjl of all the wonders I have feen, and which 
 moft of all proves their Infatuation, is, that they profefs Tc 
 MAINTAIN LIBERTY BY CORRUPTION. 
 
 L E T T E F
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 195 
 
 LETTER LXXVII. 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I Felicitate thee" Mirza, on thy new dignity ; I bow my- 
 felf reverently before thee, not with the heart of a flat- 
 terer, but a friend : the favour of thy matter fhines upon 
 thee; he has raifed thee to the right hand of his throne ; the 
 treafures of Perfia are committed to thy cuftody : if thou be- 
 haveft thyfelf honeftly and wifely, I fhall think thee much 
 greater from thy advancement ; if otherwife, much lower than 
 before. Thou haft undertaken a charge very important to 
 thy prince, and to his people ; both are equally concerned in 
 thy adminiftration, both have equally a right to thy fidelity. 
 If ever thou {halt feparate their interefts, if thou (halt fet up 
 the one againft the other, know, it will end in the ruin of 
 both. Do not imagine, that thy mafter will be richer by 
 draining his fubjects of their wealth : fuch gains are irrepara- 
 ble loffes ; they may ferve a prefent fordid purpofe, but dry 
 up the fources of opulence for futurity. I would recom- 
 mend to thy attention and remembrance, the faying of a fa- 
 mous Englilh treafurer in the happy reign of queen Elizabeth. 
 I do not love, faid that truly able minifter, to fee the treafury 
 .fwell like a dijlempered fpleen, when the other parts of the Jiate 
 are in a confumption. Be it thy care to prevent fuch a decay j 
 and, to that end, not only favc the public all unneceflary ex- 
 ' pence, but fo digeftand order what is needful, that perplexity 
 may not ferve to cover fraud, nor incapacity lurk behind con- 
 fufton. Rather fubmit to any difficulty and diftrefs in the 
 .conduct of thy miniftry, than anticipate the revenues of the 
 government without an abfolute neceffity ; for fuch expedi- 
 ents are a temporary eafe, but a permanent dejlruflion. 
 
 In relieving the people from their taxes, let it alfo be thy 
 glory to relieve them from the infinite number of tax-ga- 
 therers, which, far worfe than the Turkifli or Ruffian armies, 
 have harrajjed and plundered our poor country. 
 
 As thou art the diftributor of the bounties of the crown, 
 make them the reward of fervice and merit; not the hire of 
 3arafit.es and flatterers to thy mafter, or thyfelf. But, above 
 ill, as thou art now a public perfon, elevate thy mind beyond 
 my private view, try to enrich the public before thyfelf; 
 |ind think lefs of eftablifhing thy family at the head of thy 
 Country, than of fetting thy country at the head of Afia. 
 
 O2 If
 
 196 LETTER LXXVIII. 
 
 If thou canft fteadily perfevere in fuch a conduct, thy 
 prince will want thee more than thou doft him: if thou build- 
 eft thy fortune on any other bafts, how high foever it may rife, 
 it will be tottering f. om the weakness of its foundation. 
 
 He alone is a minijler of Jlate^ whole fervices are neceffary 
 to the public ; the reft are the creatures of caprice^ and fee] 
 their jlavery even in their power. 
 
 LETTER LXXVIII. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 TH E virtuous Abdallah is returned to England, after 
 having been abfent fourteen moons. I yefterday re- 
 ftored to him his lovely Zelis, the wife whom he had given 
 me at his departure, and whom I had treated like a Jijler. 
 Nothing ever was fo moving as the fcene, when I joined 
 their hands again after a feparation which they had feared 
 would prove eternal. The poflefnon of the fineft woman in 
 the world could not give me fo much pleafure as this act of 
 humanity and juftice : I made two people happy who deferv- 
 ed it; and am fecured of the affections of both to the laft 
 moment of their lives. When the tranfports of their joy were 
 a little over, Abdallah gave me the following relation of all 
 that had happened to him fince he left us. 
 
 77* HI.STORY of Abdallah. 
 
 YOU know that I failed from England with an intent to 
 redeem my father from captivity : as foon as I came from 
 Malta, I went and threw myfelf at the feet of the grand 
 mafter, befeeching him to take the ranfom I had brought, 
 and fet my father free. 
 
 , : He anfwered me, that the perfon for whom I fued, was, 
 .no longer in a condition to be ranfomed, being condemned 
 to die the next day. I was ready to die myfelf at this ac-, 
 count ; and defiring to know his offence, was informed, that, 
 being unable to redeem himfelf, he was put to the oar like 
 a common flave, without any regard to his innocence or age: 
 that during an engagement with a Turkifli (hip, he had per- 
 fuaded the other flaves to quit their oars and fight againft the 
 Chriftians ; but that being overpowered, he was brought to, 
 Malta, and condemned to be broke upon the wheel, as an 
 example to the other captives in the eallies that this dread- 
 ful
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. i 97 
 
 ful fentence was to be executed upon him the morning after 
 my arrival, and no ranfom could be accepted for his life. 
 
 O Heaven ! faid I, did I come fo far to no other purpofe, 
 but to be witnefs of the death of my wretched father, and a 
 death fo full of horror ? Would the waves of the lea had 
 fwallowed me up, before I reached this fatal and accurfed 
 fhore ! O Abderamen ! O my father ! what avails to thet the 
 piety of thy fon ? how fhall I bear to take my leave of thee 
 for ever, at our firft meeting, after an abfence which feemed 
 fo long? Can I ftand by, and give thee up to torments, when 
 I flattered myfelf that I arrived to bring thee liberty ? Alas! 
 my prefence wJl only aggravate thy fufferings, and make 
 the bitternefs of death more infupportable. 
 
 In this extremity, I offered the grand mafter, not only to 
 pay down all the ranfom I had promifed before, but to yield 
 myfe!f a voluntary flave, and ferve in the gallies all my life, 
 if Abderamen's might be fpared. 
 
 He feemed touched with my propofal, and inclined to pity 
 me ; but was told by a jefuit, who was his confefTor, that 
 an example- of feverity was neceflary ; and that he ought 
 to pardon my father on no terms but renouncing Ma- 
 hometifm, and being converted immediately to the church of 
 Rome. 
 
 No, cried I, if that is to be the price of a few unhappy years, 
 it is better both of us fliould perifhthan accept them. But can 
 you, faid I to the prieft, who profefs an holinefs fuperior to o- 
 ther men, can you obftrudt the mercy of your prince, and com- 
 pel him to deftroy a wretched man, whofe only crime was the 
 natural love of liberty ? is this your way of making converts to 
 your faith, by terror of racks and wheels, inftead of reafon ? 
 My reproaches fignified nothing but toincenfe him, and I 
 ! quitted the palace in defpair. I was going to the prifon to 
 , my father, for the firft and laft time, when a Turkifh flave ac- 
 cofted me, and bid me follow him. I refufed to do it, but he 
 1 aflured me it was of moment to the life of Abderamen. I fol-r 
 lowed him, and he led me by a back-way to a woman's apart- 
 i ment in the palace. I continued there till paft midnight 
 without feeing any body, in agitations not to be conceived : 
 at laft there came to me a lady richly drefTed in the habit of 
 my own country. AfterJookingatme attentively fome time, 
 O ! Abdallah, faid {he, have you forgot Zoraide, the fifter 
 of Zelis ? 
 
 Thefe words foon brought her to my remembrance, though 
 I had not feen her for many years : I embraced her tenderly, 
 and defired to hear what fortune had carried her to Malta ? 
 
 Yoa
 
 i 9 8 LETTER LXXVIII. 
 
 You know, faid fhe, that my family is of the ifland of 
 Cyprus, and that I was married young to a rich merchant of 
 Aleppo. I had by him two children, a fon and daughter; 
 and lived very happily fome years, till my hufband's bufinefs 
 carrying him to Cyprus, I perfuaded him to let me go, and 
 make a vifit to my relations in that ifland. In our paflage a 
 violent ftorm arofe, which drove us weftward beyond the ifle 
 of Candia ; and before we could put into any harbour, a Mal- 
 tefe pirate attacked us, killed my hufband, and carried me to 
 Malta. My beauty touched the heart of the grand mafter; 
 which is the more furpiizing, as I took no pains tofet it off, 
 thinking of nothing but the lofs I had fuftained : he bought 
 me of the knight, whofe prize I was ; and I thought it fome 
 comfort in my captivity, that I was delivered from the hands 
 that had been ftained in my hufband's blood. The pafiion of 
 my new lord was fb exceflive, that he ufed me more like a 
 princefs than a flave. He could deny me nothing I afked him, 
 and was fo liberal, that he never approached me without a 
 prefent. You fee the pomp and magnificence in which I live: 
 my wealth is great, and my power in this place fuperior to 
 any-body's. Hear then, Abdallah, what my friendlhip has 
 done for you, and remember the obligation you have to me. 
 I have employed all my intereft with my lover to fave the 
 life of Abderamen : he has confented.to it, and moreover, to 
 fet him free upon the payment of the ranfom you propofed. 
 But, in recompence for the aid which I have given you, you 
 muft promife to aflitt me in an affair that will, probably^ be 
 attended with fome danger. I allured her, there was nothing 
 I would not rifque to do the fifter of Zelis any fervice. 
 
 You fhall know, faid (he, what it is I require of you, 
 when the time comes to put it in execution ; till then re- 
 main at Malta, and wait my orders. 
 
 At thefe words fhe delivered to me a pardon under the feal 
 of the grand mafter, and bid me carry it inftantly to my fa- 
 ther ; I was fotranfported that I could not ftay to thank herj 
 I ran, I flew to the prifon of Abderamen, and (hewing the 
 order I brought with me to his guards, was admitted to the 
 dungeon where he lay. 
 
 The poor old man, expecting nothing but death, and be- 
 lieving 1 was the officer that came to carry him to the place 
 of execution, fainted away before I had time to difcover to 
 him either my perfon or my errand. While he lay in that 
 ttate oT infenlibility, I unbound his chains, and bore him in- , 
 to the open air, where, with a good deal of difficulty, he re- , 
 ppvered. O my father ! faid I to him (when I perceived that 
 
 his
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 199 
 
 his fenfes were returned) do you not know your fon Abda!- 
 lah, who is come hither to fave your life, who has obtained 
 your pardon, and redeimed you from captivity ? The fur- 
 prize of joy that feized him in that inftant, at my fight and 
 words, was too fudden and violent for his age and weaknefs 
 to fupport. He ftruggled Ibme time to make an anfwer ; 
 but at laft, (training me in his arms, -and muttering fome 
 half-formed f. unds, he funk down, and expired in my bofom. 
 When I faw that he was dead, I loft all patience, and co- 
 vering myfelf withduft bewailed my folly, in not telling him 
 my good tidings by degrees. 
 
 By this time it was broad day, and the whole town being 
 informed of my affliction, was gathered about me in great 
 crowds. The grand mafter himfelf, taking pity of me, fi_nt 
 to tell me, that he would permit me to bear away my father's 
 body to Aleppo, and excufe me the ranfom I had offered, fince 
 death had delivered him without it. This indulgence com- 
 forted me a little, and I would have embarqued immediately 
 for the Levant, if I had not been flopped by my promife to 
 Zoraide. Several days paft without my hearing any news of 
 her. I had already hired a fmall veflel,.and put on board 
 the remains of Abderamen, when, late one night, I was wak- 
 ed out of my fleep by Zoraide in the habit of a man, who told 
 me that fhe was come to claim my promife. I afked what 
 flie required me to do ? To carry me to Aleppo, anfweredfhe, 
 that I may fee my dear children once again, and enrich them 
 with the treafures which I have gained from the bounty of 
 my lover. Thofe treafures are ufelefs to me without them ; 
 in the midft of all my pomp and outward pleafure I am per- 
 petually pining for their lofs ; the mother's heart is unfatisfied 
 within; nor will it let me enjoy a moment's peace, till I am 
 reftored to them in my happy native land. As (he faid this, 
 
 : fhe mowed me fome bags of gold, and a cafket filled with jew- 
 els of great value, I muft infift, Abdallah, continued fhe, 
 
 i that you fet fail this very night^ and take me along with you. 
 
 ; The weather is tempeftuous, but that circumftance will fa- 
 
 ; vour my efcape ; and 1 had rather venture to perifti in the 
 fea, than live any longer from my family. 
 
 The fenfe of the obligation I had to her made me confent 
 
 1 to do what fhe defired, how perilous foever it appeared to me. 
 
 ; As I had a permiflion from the grand mafter to go away as 
 foon as I thought fit, I put to fea that night without any hin- 
 derance ; and the wind blowing hard oft' the fhore, in a little 
 while we were out of fight of Malta. The water was fo 
 rough for two or three days, that we thought it impoffible 
 
 our
 
 200 LETTER LXXVIII. 
 
 our barque could weather it out ; but at length the ftorms 
 abating, we purfued our voyage with a very fair wind, and 
 arrived fafe in the port of Scanderoon. Zoraide was tranf- 
 ported with the thought of being fo near Aleppo, and her 
 children ; me embraced me in the moil affectionate manner, 
 and exprefled a gratitude for the fervice I had done her far 
 beyond what it deferved. But how great was her difappoint- 
 ment and afflidtbn, when we were told by the people of Scan- 
 deroon, that the plague was at Aleppo, and had deftroyed a 
 third part of the inhabitants ! 
 
 Ah, wretched Zoraide ! cried (he weeping, where are now 
 all thy hopes of being bleft in the fight of thy two children ? 
 perhaps thofe two children are no more; or, if they ftill live, 
 it is in hourly expectation of dying with the reft of their fel- 
 low citizens. Perhaps, at this moment they begin to ficken, 
 and want the care of their mother to tend upon them, when 
 they are abandoned by every other friend. 
 
 Thus did fhe torture herfelf with dreadful apprehenfions, 
 and often turning her eyes towards Aleppo, gave herfelf up 
 to all the agonies of grief. 
 
 I faid every thing 1 could think of to relieve her, but fhe 
 would not be comforted. 
 
 The next morning the fervants 1 had put about her, came 
 and told me, that fhe was not to be found : they alfo brought 
 me a letter which informed me, that not being able to en- 
 dure the uncertainty (he was in about her children, (he had 
 ftolen away by night, and gone to Aleppo to fhare their dan- 
 ger with them. That if fhe and her family efcaped the fick- 
 nefs, I fhould hear from her again ; but that if they died, fhe 
 was refolved not to furvive them. She added, that fhe had 
 left me a box of diamonds worth two thoufand piftoles, be- 
 ing a fourth part of the jewels which fhe had brought from 
 Malta by my afliftance. 
 
 You may imagine how deeply I was affected at reading 
 this letter. I refolved to ftay at Scanderoon till I had fome 
 news of her, notwithftanding my paifionate defire to return 
 to Zelis. I had waited five weeks with great impatience, 
 when we received accounts that the infection was ceafed, and 
 the commerce with Aleppo reftored again. I immediately 
 went to vifit my native town ; but, alas ! -I had little plea- 
 fure in the fight of it, after fo difmal a calamity. My firft 
 enquiry was about Zoraide and her children. They carried 
 me to her houfe, where I found her fon, a youth of fixteen. 
 When I made myfelf known to him, he fell a weeping, and 
 told me his mother and fifter were both dead. I very fmcereh/ 
 
 joined
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 201 
 
 joined with him in his grief, and offered to reftore to him the 
 jewels (he had given me. No, Abdallah, faid he, I am rich 
 enough in what I inherit from my father and Zoraide. But 
 thefe riches cannot comfort me tor her death, nor any time 
 wear out of my remembrance the uncommon affection which 
 occafioned it. O, Abdallah ! what a mother have I loft, and 
 what a friend are you deprived of! When fhe came hither, 
 continued he, from Scanderoon, my fifter and I believed we 
 had feen a fpirit: but when we found it was really Zoraide, 
 our hearts melted with tendernefs and joy. That joy was 
 foon over ; for, the third day after her arrival at Aleppo, I 
 found myfelf feized with the diftempeV. She never quitted 
 my bedfide during my illnefs ; and to the care (he took of 
 me I owed my life : but it proved fatal to her and my poor 
 fifter, who both caught the infection by nurfing me ; and 
 having weaker conftitutions, were not able to ftruggle with 
 it fo well. My fifter died firft, and Zoraide quickly follow- 
 ed : when (he perceived herfelf juft expiring, fhe called me 
 to her, and bid me endeavour to find you out at Scanderoon, 
 and let you know, that fhe bequeathed to you the portion 
 fhe had intended for my fifter, amounting to five thoufand 
 pieces of gold, as to the man in the world fhe moft efteemed : 
 ihe added, that to you fhe recommended me with her lateft 
 breath, imploring you to take care of me for her fake, and 
 the fake of her fifter Zelis. 
 
 The poor boy was not able to go on with his ftory any- 
 further. I accepted the legacy, and did my utmoft to dif- 
 charge worthily the truft conferred upon me: but my firft 
 care was to bury Abderamen with all the pomp that our 
 cuftoms will admit. After fome time fpent in fettling the 
 affairs of my pupil, and my own, I took a paffage on board an 
 t Englifh fhip, and arrived happily in London. 
 
 1 am now pofleft of a fortune that is fufficient to maintain 
 Zelis in the manner I defire, and have nothing more to afe 
 i of Heaven but an opportunity of repaying you, O Selim, 
 the friendfliip and goodnefs you have fhewn me. 
 
 LETTER LXXIX. 
 
 SELIM. to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 AM going, in the confidence of friendfliip, to give thee 
 a proof of the weaknefs of human nature, and the un- 
 accountable capricioufnefs of our paffions. Since I deliver- 
 ed up Zelis to her hufband, I have not enjoyed a moment's 
 
 peace. 
 
 I
 
 2 o2 LETTER LXXIX. 
 
 peace. Her beauty, which I faw without emotion while flic; 
 continued in my power ^ now (he is out of it, has fired me to that! 
 degree that I have almoft loft my reafon. I cannot bear tot 
 fee her in the poflefiion of the man to whom I gave her : if 
 fhame, if defpair did not hinder it, I fliould afk him for her 
 again. J n this uneafmefs and diforder of mind, there re-j 
 mains but one part for me to take : I muft fly from her! 
 charms and my own weaknefs, I muft retire into Perfin, and 
 endeavour by abfence, and different objects, to efface the im-, 
 preflions fhe has made. Alas ! what {hail I find there ? a : 
 feraglio compofed of beautifulyfoz/^, the mercenary projlitutes,. 
 or reluttant viftims to grofs and tyrannical luft. What ra-\ 
 tional commerce can I hope for with tbefe^ what trut affeftlon^ 
 what folid peace^ what heart-felt delight ? But were Zelis my 
 wife, in fuch a wife I fliould find the moft endeared^ molt; 
 plea/ing, moft faithful friend. All the precautions of Eaft-< 
 ernjealoufly would then be unnecefTary ; thofe wretched; 
 precautions, which, while they bar the door againft diiho- 
 nour, {hut out efteem, the life of friendfliip, and confidence, 
 the foul of love. Thou wilt be furprized at my talking thus j; 
 but what I feel for Zelis, and what I have feen in England, 
 has overcome my native prejudices : I have feen here wives, 
 over whofc conduct, though perfectly free, religion, honour and 
 love are ftricler guards than legions of eunuchs, or walls of 
 brafs : I have feen, by confequence, much happier hujlandsfaw 
 any Perfian can poffiblybe. We willdifcourle on this lubjedt, 
 more fully when I am with thee, and it will be my greateft 
 pleafure to try to remove out of thy mind all thofe prepof- 
 feflions of which my own has been cured by my abode in 
 this country. If I bring thee home truth y I am lure thou wilt 
 think that i have travelled to better pnrpofe, than if I came 
 back fraught with the.gold of Peru, or the diamonds of Gol- 
 conda. I have more than compleated the four years ftay I 
 propofed making in England, and am now determined to 
 pafs through France as far as Marfeilles, and embarque from 
 thence for the Levant, as foon as the bufinefs, with which I 
 am charged on the part of fome of my friends with the Tur- 
 key merchants there, will permit. It is my fixed refolution 
 to go away, without giving Zelis the leaft i.ntimation of the 
 the caufe of my departure : Abdallah {hall never know that 
 I am his rival; it would take too much from the character 
 of a friend. Thou art the only one to whom I dare confide 
 my folly ; and fince it has hurt no-body but myfelf, I hope 
 thou wilt rather pity than blame me for it, 
 
 LETTER
 
 PERSIAN LETTERS. 203 
 LETTER LXXX. 
 
 SELIM to MIRZA at Ifpahan. 
 
 From London. 
 
 I AM juft on the point of leaving England ; Abdallah 
 and Zelis have received my adieus ; the combat is paft ; 
 my refolutionsftrengthen, and thou mayeft expecl ere long 
 to fee thy friend with a mind a good deal altered by his travels, 
 but a heart which to tbee, to his country, and to his duty, is 
 ftill the fame. 
 
 It would be unjuft and ungrateful in me to quit this ijland, 
 
 : without expreffing a very high efteem of the good fenfe, fin- 
 \cerity, and good-nature 1 have found among the Englijh : to 
 thefe qualities I might alfo add politeneft, which certainly 
 ithey have as good a title to as any of their neighbours ; but I 
 am afraid that this accomplifhment has been acquired too 
 much at the expence of other virtues more folid and eflen- 
 tial. Of their induftry, their commerce is a proof; and for 
 their valour, let their enemies declare it. Of their faults I 
 ;will at prefent fay no more, but that many of them are new- 
 ly introduced, and fo contrary to the genius of the people, 
 ithat one would hope they might be eafily rooted out. They 
 are undoubtedly, all circumftances considered, a very great, 
 ia very powerful, and happy nation ; but how long they (hall 
 .continue fo, depends entirely on the preservation of their li- 
 berty. To the conjiitution of their government alone are at- 
 tached all thefe bleffings and advantages : fhould that ever be 
 depraved or corrupted, they muft expecl to become the moft 
 contemptible, and moft unhappy of mankind. For what can 
 fo much aggravate the wretchednefs of an opprefled and 
 ruined people, as the remembrance of former freedom and 
 profperity ? All the images and traces of their liberty, which 
 lit is probable no change will quite deftroy, muft be aperpe- 
 'tnal reproach and torment to them, for having fo degenerate- 
 ly parted with their birth-right. And if flavery is to be en- 
 id'ured, where is the man that would not rather chufe it un- 
 !er the warm fun of Agra, or Ifpahan, than in the North- 
 ern climate of England ? 
 
 I have therefore taken my leave of my friends here, with 
 "his afte&ionate, well-meant advice, That they fhould vi- 
 gilantly watch over their conjiitution, and guard it by thofe 
 (bulwarks which alone are able to fecure //, a firm union of 
 dl hone/I men, juftice upon public offender s y national and private 
 frugality, 
 
 O B- 


 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 O N T H E 
 
 CONVERSION AND APOSTLESHIP 
 
 O F 
 
 ST. PAUL. 
 
 I N 
 
 LETTER TO GILBERT WEST, ESQ.,
 
 r O 
 C-l 
 
 S>z-\ /.i . rl'
 
 A LETTER 
 
 T O 
 
 GILBERT WEST, Efq. 
 
 S I R, 
 
 IN a late converfation we had together upon the fubje& of 
 the Chriftian religion, I told you, that befides all the 
 proofs of it which may be drawn from the prophecies of the 
 Old Teftament, from the neceflary connexion it has with 
 the whole fyftem of the Jewim religion, from the miracles of 
 Chrift, and from the evidence given of his refurre&ion by all 
 the other apoftles, I thought the converfion and the apoftle- 
 Ihip of St. Paul alone, duly confidered, was of itfelf a demon- 
 ftrationfufficientto prove Chriftianity to be a divine revelation. 
 As you feemed to think that fo compendious a proof might 
 be of ufe to convince thofe unbelievers that will not attend 
 to a longer feries of arguments, I have thrown together the 
 reafons upon which I fupport that propofition. 
 
 In the xxviith chapter of the Acls of the Apoftles,writ by 
 a cotemporary author, and a companion of St. Paul in preach- 
 ing the gofpel, as appears by the book itfelf, ch. xx. ver. 6, 
 13, 14. ch. xxvii. ver. i. &c. St. Paul is faid to have given 
 himfelfthis account of his converfion and preaching, to king 
 Agrippa and Feftus the Roman governor : ' My manner of 
 life from my youth, which was, at the firft, among mine 
 own nation at Jerufalem, know all the Jews, which knew 
 me from the beginning (if they would teftify) that after 
 the ftridteft feet of our religion, I lived a Pharifee. And 
 now I ftandand am judged for the hope of the promife made 
 by God unto our fathers : unto which promife our twelve 
 tribes, inftantly ferving God day and night, hope tocome: 
 for wjiich hope' fake, king Agrippa, I am accufed by the 
 Jews. Why Ihould it be thought a thing incredible with 
 you, that God Ihould raife the dead ? I verily thought 
 with myfelf, that I ought to do many things contrary to 
 the name of Jefus of Nazareth. Which thina; I alfo did
 
 208 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 in Jerufalem, and many of the faints did I fhut up in pri- 
 fon, having received authority from the chief priefts : and 
 when they were put to death, I gave my voice againft 
 them. And I punifhed them oft in every fynagogue, and 
 compelled them to blafpheme, and being exceedingly mad 
 againft them, I perfecuted them even unto ftrange cities. 
 Whereupon as I went to Damafcus with authority and com 
 million from the chief priefts, at mid-day, o king, I faw in 
 the way a light from heaven, above the brightnefs of the 
 fun, mining round about me, and them which journeyed 
 with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard 
 a voice fpeaking unto me, and faying in the Hebrew tongue, 
 Saul, Saul, why perfecuteft thou me ? It is hard for thee to 
 kick againft the pricks. And I faid, Who art thou, Lord ? 
 And he faid, I am Jefus whom thou perfecuteft. But rife, 
 ftand upon thy feet ; for I have appeared unto thee for this 
 purpofe, to make thee a minifter, and a witnefs both of thofe 
 things which thou haft feen, and of thofe things in the 
 which I will appear unto thee ; delivering thee from the 
 people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom I now fend thee, 
 to open their eyes, and to turn them from darknefs to light, 
 and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may re- 
 ceive forgivenefs of fins, and inheritance among them which 
 are fan&ified by faith that is in me. Whereupon, o king 
 Agrippa, I was notdifobedient to the heavenly vifion : but 
 (hewed unto them of Damafcus, and at Jerufalem, and 'j 
 throughout all the coaft of Judea, and to the Gentiles, 
 that they mould repent and turn to God, and do works 
 meet for repentance. For thefe caufes the Jews caught : 
 me in the temple, and went about to kill me. Having 
 therefore obtained help from God, I continue unto this 
 day witnefiing both to fmall and great, faying none other 
 things than thofe which Mofes and the prophets did fay 
 mould come : that Chrift mould fuffcr, and that he mould 
 be the firft that mould rife from the dead, and fhould mew 
 light to the people, and to the Gentiles. And as he thus 
 fpake forhimfelf, Feftus faid with aloud voice, Paul, thou 
 art befide thyfelf ; much learning doth make thee mad. But 
 he faid, I am not mad, moft noble Feftus, but fpeak i 
 forth the truth and fobernefs. For the king knoweth of 
 thefe things, before whom alfo I fpeak freely; for I am 
 perfuaded that none of thefe things are hidden from him ; ' 
 for the thing was not done in a corner. King Agrippa, 
 believed thou the prophets ? I know that thou believeft. 
 Then Agrippa. faid unto Paul, Almoft thou perfuadeftme 
 to be a Chriftian. And Paul faid, I wculd to God that not ; 
 
 only j
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL; 209 
 
 * only thou, but alfo all that hear me this day, were both al- 
 
 * moft and altogether fuch as I am, except thefe bonds/ In 
 another chapter of the fame book (a) he gives in fubftance 
 the fame account of the Jews, adding thefe further 
 particulars : ' And I faid, Whatfhall I do, Lord ? And the 
 
 Lord faid unto me, Arife, and go into Damafcus, and there 
 it fliall be told thee of all things which are appointed for 
 thee to do. And when I could not fee for the glory of that 
 light, being led by the hand of them that we; e with me, I 
 came into Damafcus. And one Ananias, a devout man 
 according to the law, having a good report of all the Jews 
 that dwelt there, came unto me, and flood, and faid unto 
 me, Brother Saul, receive thy fight; and the fame hour I 
 looked up upon him. And he faid, The God of our fathers 
 hath chofen thee, that thou fhould'ft know his will, and 
 fee that juft one, and (hould'ft hear the voice of his mouth. 
 For thou (halt be his witnefs unto all men of what thou 
 haft feen and heard. And now why tarrieft thou ? arife, 
 and be baptized, and wafh away thy fins, calling on the 
 name of the Lord.' 
 
 In the ixth chapter of the fame book, the author of it relates 
 the fame ftory,with fome other circumftances not mentioned in 
 thefe accounts : as, that Saul (b) in a vifion faw Ananias be- 
 fore he came to him, coming in, and putting his hand upon him 
 that he might receive his Jight. And that when Ananias had 
 fpoken to him, immediately there fell from his eyes as it had 
 been fcales. 
 
 And agreeably to all thefe accounts, St. Paul thus fpeaks(^) 
 of himfelf in the epiftles he wrote to the feveral churches he 
 planted ; the authenticity of which cannot be doubted with- 
 out overturning all rales, by which the authority and ge- 
 ; nuinenefs of any writings can be proved, or confirmed. 
 To the Galatians he fays : ' I certify you (rf), brethrenj 
 that the gofpel which was preached by me is not after man. 
 For I neither received of man, neither was I taught it, 
 but by the revelation of Jefus Chrift. For ye have heard 
 ,of my converfation in time paft in the Jews religion, how 
 that beyond meafure I perfecuted the church of God, and 
 wafted it. And profited in the Jews religion above many 
 mine equals in my own nation, being more exceedingly 
 zealous of the traditipns of my fathers. But when it pleaf- 
 ed God, who feparated me from my mother's wombj and 
 called me by his grace, to reveal his fon in mej thatl might 
 P preach 
 
 (a) Aftsxxii. 10,11, 12,13, 14, 15, 16. () Ats ix. ^^. 
 r) Ver. 18. (d) Gal. i. 11,12, 13, 14, 15, 16,
 
 lib OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 preach him among the heathen, immediately I conferred 
 not with flefti and blood, &c. 
 
 c To the Philippians lie fays, ' If any other man (e ) think- 
 eth that he hath whereof he might truft in the flem, I 
 more : circumcifed the eight day, of the ftock of Ifrael, 
 of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the hebrews. As 
 touching the law, a Pharifee; concerning zeal, perfecut- 
 ing the church ; touching the righteoufnefs which is in the 
 law, blamelefs. But what things were gain to me, thofe 
 I counted lofs for Chrift. Yea, Joubtlds, and I count all 
 things but lofs for the excellency of the knowledge of Chrift 
 Jefus my Lord, for whom I have fuffered the lofs of all 
 things, and docount thembut dung, that I may win Chrift.* 
 And in his epiftle to Timothy he writes thus : c 1 thank(/) 
 Jefus Chrift our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he 
 counted me faithful , putting me into the miniftry, who 
 was,before a blafphemer, and a perfecutor, and injurious; 
 butl obtained mercy, becaufel did it ignorantly in unbelief.' 
 In other epiftles he calls himfelf an apoftle (g) by the will of 
 God, by the commandment of God our faviour, and Lord Jefus 
 Chrift ; and an apo/He, not of men, neither by men, but by 
 Jefus Chrift, and God the father, who raifedhimfrom the dead* 
 All which implies fome miraculous call that made him an 
 apoftle. And to the Corinthians he fays(/;), after enumerat- 
 ing many appearances of Jefus after his infurre&ion, * And 
 ' laft of all he was feen of me allb as one born out of due 
 4 time.' 
 
 Now it muft of neceflity be, that the perfon atteftingthefe 
 things of himfelf, and of whom they are related in fo authen- 
 tick a manner, either was an impoftor, who faid what he 
 knew to be falfe with an intent to deceive j or he was an en- 
 thufiaft, who by the force of an over-heated imagination irri- 
 pofed on himfelf; or he was deceived by the fraud of others, 
 and all that he faid muft be imputed to the power of that de- 
 ceit; or what he declared to have been the caufe of his con- 
 verfion, and to have happened in confequence of it, did all 
 really happen, and therefore the Chriftian religion is a divine 
 revelation. 
 
 Now that he was not an impoftor, who faid what he knew 
 to be falfe with an intent to deceive, I fha!l endeavour to 
 prove, by fhewing that he could have no rational motives to 
 undertake fuch an impofture, nor could have poffibly carried 
 it on with any fucccfs by the means we know he employed. 
 Firft then, the inducement to fuch an impofture muft have 
 
 been 
 
 ( (?) Phil.ji. 4 , 5, 6, 7, 8. (/) i Tim. i. 12, i v te) 2 Cou 
 J. i, CoLi, i. j Tim. i. i. Gal.i. i .-) i Cor. xv. 8.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF Sr. PAUL. 211 
 
 been one of thefe two, either the hope of advancing hirrifelf 
 by it in his temporal intereft, credit, or power j or the gra- 
 tification of lome of his paflions under the authority of it, 
 and by the means it afforded. 
 
 Now thefe were the circumftances in which St. Paul de- 
 clared his converfion tothefaith of Chriftjefus. Thatjefus, 
 who called himfelf the Mefliah, and Son of God, notwith- 
 ftand the innocence and holinefs of his life, notwithftanding 
 the miracles by which he attefted his miffion, had been cru- 
 cified by the Jews as an importer and blafphemer, which 
 crucifixion not only muft (humanly fpeaking) have intimi- 
 dated others from following him, or efpoufing his doctrines, 
 but fervcd to confirm the Jews in their opinion that he could 
 not be their promifed Mefliah, who according to all 
 their prejudices was not to fuffer in any manner, but to 
 reign triumphant for ever hereupon earth. His apoftles in- 
 deed, though at firft they appeared to be terrified by the death 
 of their mailer, and difappointed in all their hopes, yet had 
 furpiifingly recovered their fpirits again, and publicly taught 
 in his name, declaring him to be rifen from the grave, and 
 confirming that miracle by many they Worked, or pretended 
 to work themfelves. But the chief priefts and rulers among 
 the Jews were fo far from being converted either by their 
 words or their works, that they had begun a fevere periecu- 
 tion againft them, put fometo death, imprifoned others, and 
 were going on with impracticable rage againft the whole 
 fet. In all thefe feverities St. Paul concurred (;J, being 
 himfelf a Pharifee, bred up at the feet of Gamaliel, one of the 
 chief of that feel: ; nor was he content in the heat of his zeal 
 with perfecuting the Chriftians who were at Jerufalem (.), 
 3ut breathing out threatning and Jlaughter agalnjt the difciples of 
 'he Lordy went unto the high priejl, and defer ed of him letters to 
 Damafcus to the fynagogues, that if he found any of this way, 
 .vhether they were men or women, he might bring them bound to 
 Jerufalem. His requeft was complied with, and he went to 
 Damafcus with authority and commijjlon from the high priej}. 
 :\t this inftant of time, and under thefe circumftances, did 
 ie become a difciple of Chrift. What could be his motives 
 ;o take fuch a part ? was it the hope of increafmg his wealth ? 
 :he certain confequence of his taking that part was not only 
 he lofs of all that he had, but of all hopes of acquiring more. 
 JThofe whom he left, were the difpofers of wealth, of digni- 
 y, of power in Judea : thofe whom he went to, were indi- 
 ent men, Opprtited and kept down from all means of improv- 
 ig their fortunes. They among them who had more than 
 P 2 the 
 
 (>' Afts vii. 9, 22, 23. 0*) Afts ix. i, 2. (/) Aftsxxvi, 12.
 
 212 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 the reft, fhared what they had with their brethren, but with 
 this afliftance the whole community was hardly fupplied 
 with the neceflaries of life ; and even in churches he after- 
 wards planted himfelf, which were much more wealthy than 
 that of Jerufalem, fo far was St. Paul from availing himfelf 
 of their charity, or the veneration they had for him, in or- 
 der to draw that wealth to himfelf, that he often refufcd to 
 take any part of it for the neceflaries of life. 
 
 Thus he tells the Corinthians, * Even unto th is prefent hour 
 ' (m)webothhungerand thirft,and are naked, and are buffeted, 
 ' and have no certain dwelling-place, and labour, working 
 ' with our own hands.' 
 
 In another epiftle he writes to them, * Behold the third 
 ' time () I am ready to come to you, and I will not be bur- 
 ' thenfome to you, for I feek not yours but you ; for the chil- 
 ' dren ought not to lay up for the parents, but the parents for 
 
 * the children/ 
 
 T\> the Theflalonians he fays, ' As we were allowed of 
 
 * God (o) to be put in truft with the gofpel, even fo we 
 ' fpeak, not as pleafing men, but God, which trieth our 
 ' hearts. For neither at any time ufed vre flattering words, 
 
 * nor a cloak of covetoufnefs, God is witnefs ; nor of men 
 ' fought we glory, neither of you, nor yet of others, when 
 
 * we might have been burthenfome, as the apoftles of Chrift. 
 ' For ye remember, brethren, our labour and travel : for 
 c labouring night and day, becaufe we would not be charge- 
 
 * able to any of you, we preached unto you the gofpel of 
 ' God (p).' And again, in another letter to them, he re- 
 peats the fame teftimony of his difintereftednefs : ' Neither 
 4 did we eat any man's bread for nought, but wrought with 
 ' labour and travail night and day, that we might not be 
 4 chargeable to any of you.' And when he took his fareweloi 
 the church of Ephefus, to whom he foretold that they fhould 
 fee him no more, he gives this teftimony of himfelf, and ap- 
 peals to them for the truth of it : 'I have coveted no man's 
 ' filver (q) or gold, or apparel. Yea, you yourfelves know, 
 4 that thefe hands have miniftered unto my neceflities, and 
 ' to them that were with me.' It is then evident both from 
 theftate of the church when St. Paul firft came into it, and 
 from his behaviour afterwards, that- he had no thoughts oi 
 increafing his wealth by becoming a Chriftian -, whereas b) 
 continuing to be their enemy, hehadalmoft certain hopes ol 
 making his fortune by the favour of thofe who were at the head 
 of the Jewiih (late, to whom nothing could more recommend 
 
 him 
 
 () i Cor. xv. 8. () 2 C>r. xii. 14. (c] \ Thtff. !i. 4. ?, r >. ') 
 (X 2 Thelf. iii. 8. (?) Ads xx. 33, 34.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 213 
 
 him than the zeal that he (hewed in that perfecution. As 
 to credit or reputation, that too lay all on the fide he 
 forfook. The fet he embraced was under the greateft and 
 moft univerfal contempt of any then in the world. The 
 chiefs and leaders of it were men of the loweft birth, edu- 
 cation, and rank. They had no one advantage of parts or 
 learning, or other human endowments to recommend them. 
 The doctrines they taught were contrary to thofe, which 
 they who were accounted the wifeft and the moft knowing 
 of their nation profefled. The wonderful works that they 
 did, were either imputed to magic or to impofture. The 
 very author and head of their faith had been condemned as 
 a criminal, and died on the crofs between two thieves. Could 
 the difciple of Gamaliel think he {hould gain any credit or 
 reputation by becoming a teacher in a college of nfhermen ? 
 could he flatter himfelf, that either in or out of Judea the 
 doctrines he taught could do him any honour ? No, he knew 
 very well that the preaching Cbrljl crucified was ajlumbling- 
 block to thejfewfy and to the Greeks foolijhnefs. He afterwards 
 found by experience, that in all parts of the world, con- 
 tempt was the portion of whoever engaged in preaching a 
 myftery fo unpalatable to the world, to all its paffions and 
 pleafures, and fo irreconcileable to the pride of human rea- 
 fon. We are made (fays he to the Corinthians) as the filth 
 of the world, the offscouring of all things unto this day. Yet 
 he went on as zealoufly as he fet out, and was not ajhamtdof 
 the gofpel of Chrt/f. Certainly then the defire of glory, the 
 ambition of making to himfelf a great name, was not his mo- 
 tive to embrace Chriftianity. Was it then the love of pow- 
 er ? power ! over whom ? over a flock of fheep driven to 
 the (laughter, whofe (hepherd himfelf had been murdered a 
 little before. All he could hope from that power was to be 
 marked out in a particular manner for the fame knife, which 
 he had feen fo bloodily drawn againft them. Could he ex- 
 pe(5t more mercy from the chief priefts and the rulers, than 
 they had (hewn to Jefus himfelf? would not their anger be 
 probably fiercer againft the deferter and betrayer of their 
 caufe, than againft any other of the a^oftles ? was power 
 over fo mean and defpifed a fet of men worth the attempt- 
 ing with fo much danger ? Butftill it may be faid, there are 
 .feme natures fofond of power, that they will court it at any 
 rifk, and be pleafed with it even over the meaneft. Let us 
 fee then what power St. Paul a {Turned over the Chriftian?. 
 Did he pretend to any fuperiority over the other apoftles ? 
 No j he declared himfelf the leaji of(r] them, and left than the 
 
 leaji 
 
 (r) Ephqf. iii. 8. i Cor. xv. u.
 
 214 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 leajl of all faints. Even in the churches he planted himfelf, 
 he never pretended to any primacy or power above the other 
 apoftles : nor would he be regarded any otherwife by them, 
 than as the inftrument to them of the grace of God, and 
 preacher of the gofpel, not as the head of a feel. To the 
 Corinthians he writes in thefe words : * Now this I fay(j), 
 that every one of you faith, I am of Paul, and I of Apol- 
 los, and I of Cephas, and I of Chriir,. Is Chriil divided? 
 was Paul crucified for you ? or were ye baptized in the 
 name of Paul ?' And in another place, * Who then is 
 Paul (/), and who is Apollos, but miniiters by whom ye 
 believed, even as the Lord gave to every man ? for we 
 preach not ourfelves (u), but Chrift Jefus the Lord, and 
 ourfelves your fervants for Jefus fake.' 
 All the authority heexerciied over them was purely of a 
 fpiritual nature, tending to their inftrution and edification, 
 without any mixture of that civil dominion in which alone 
 an impoftor can find his account. Such was the dominion 
 acquired and exercifed through the pretence of divine infpi- 
 ration, by many ancient legiflators ; by Minos, Radaman- 
 thus, Triptolemus, Lycurgus, Numa, Zaleucus, Zoroafter, 
 Zamolxis, nay even by Pythagoras, who joined legiflation 
 to his philofophy, and, like the others, pretended to mira- 
 cles and revelations from God, to give a more venerable fanc- 
 tion to the laws he prefcribed. Such, in later times, was at- 
 tained by Odin among the Goths, by Mahomet among the 
 Arabians, by Mango Copac among the Peruvians, by the 
 Sofi family among the Perlians, and that of the Xerifts among 
 the Moors. To fuch a dominion did alfo afpire the many 
 falfe Mefftahs among the Jews. In fhort, a fpiritual autho- 
 rity Was onlydefired as a foundation for temporal power, or 
 as the fupport of it, by all thefe pretenders to divine infpi- 
 rations, and others whom hiftory mentions in different ages 
 and countries, to have ufed the fame arts. But St. Paul 
 innovated nothing in government or civil affairs, he meddled 
 not with legiflation, he formed no commonwealths, he raifed 
 no feditions, he affected no temporal power (x). Obedience 
 to their rulers was the doctrine he taught to the churches he 
 planted, and what he taught he pratifed himfelf; nor did 
 he ufe any of thofe foothing arts by which ambitious and 
 cunning men recommend themfelves to the favour of 
 thofe whom they endeavour to fubjeot to their power. What- 
 ever was wrong in thedifciplcs under his care he freely re- 
 proved, as it became a teacher from God, of which nurribcr- 
 lefs inftances are to be found in all his epiilles. And he was 
 careful of them when he had left them, as while he refid- 
 
 ed 
 
 (j) i Cor. J. 12, 13. (/) i Cor, iii. 5. () 2 Cor. iv, 5. 
 (x) Rom. xii'jj
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 215 
 
 ed among them, which an impoftor would hardly have 
 been, whofe ends were centered all in himfelf. This is the 
 manner in which he writes to the Philippians : c Wherefore, 
 
 * my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not in my prefence 
 
 * only, but now much more in my abfence, work out your 
 
 * own falvation with fear and trembling.' Phil. ii. 12. 
 And a little after he adds the caufe why he interefted him- 
 felf fo much iirtheir conduct (^), c that ye may be blame- 
 ' lefs and harmlefs, the fons of god in the midft of a 
 
 * crooked and perverfe nation, among whom ye mine as 
 
 * lights in the world, holding forth the word of life ; that 
 
 * I may rejoice in the day of Chrift, that I have not run 
 ' in vain, neither laboured in vain. Yea, and if I be offered 
 ' upon the facrifice and fervice of your faith, I joy and re- 
 
 * joice with you all.' Are thefe the words of an impoftor 
 defiring nothing but temporal power ? No, they are evi- 
 dently written by one who looked beyond the bounds of 
 this life. But it may be faid, that he affe&ed at leaft an 
 abfolute fpiritual power over the churches he formed. I 
 anfwer, be preached Chrift Jefus and not bhnfelf. Chrift was 
 the head 9 he only the mini/ier, and-for fuch only he gave 
 himfelf to them. He called thofe who aflifted him in 
 preaching the gofpel, his fellow -labourers and fellow-fir*- 
 wants. 
 
 So far was he from taking any advantage of a higher 
 education, fuperior learning, and more ufe of the world, to 
 claim to himfelf any fupremacy above the other apoftles, 
 that he made light of all thofe attainments, and declared, 
 that he came not ivitb excellency of fpeech^ or of wifdom^ but 
 determined to know nothing among thofe he con verted fave 
 Jefus Chrift, and him crucified. And the reafon he gave for 
 it was, that their faith Jhould not Jl and in the wifdom of men, 
 but in the power of God. Now this conduct put him quite 
 on a level with the other apoftles, who knew Jefus Chrift 
 as well as he, and had the power of God going, along with 
 their preaching in an equal degree of virtue and grace. But 
 an impoftor, whofe aim had been power, would have acted 
 a contrary part j he would have availed himfelf of all thofe 
 advantages, he would have extolled them as highly as 
 poflible, he would have fet up himfelf, by virtue of them, 
 as head of that feel: to which he acceded, or at leaft of the 
 profelytes made by himfelf. This is no more than was 
 done by every philofopher who formed a fchool ; much 
 more was it natural in one who propagated a new religion. 
 
 We fee that the bimops of Rome have claimed to them- 
 felves a primacy, or rather a monarchy, over the whole 
 Chriftian church. If St. Paul had been actuated by the 
 
 fame 
 (j) Phil. ii. 15, 16, 17.
 
 216 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 fame luft of dominion, it was much eafier for him to have jj 
 fucceeded in fuch an attempt. It was much eafier for him I 
 to make himfelf head of a few poor mechanicks and fifh- 
 ermen, whofe fuperior he had always been in the eyes of 3 
 the world, than for the bifhops of Rome to reduce thofe of - 
 Ravenna or Milan, and other great metropolitans, to their 
 obedience. $efides the oppofition they met with from fuch 
 potent antagonifts, they were obliged to fupport their pre- I 
 tenfions in direct contradiction to thofe very fcriptuies which 
 were forced to ground them upon, and to the indifputable 
 practice of the whole Chriftian church for many centuries. 
 Thefe were fuch difficulties as required the utmoft abilities 
 and (kill to furmount. But the firft preachers of the gofpel 
 had eafier means to corrupt a faith not yet fully known, 
 and which in manyvplaces could only be known by what 
 they feverally publilhed themfelves. It was neceflary indeed, 
 while they continued together, and taught the fame people, 
 that they fhould agree ; otherwise the credit of their feel: 
 would have been overthrown ; but when they feparated, 
 and formed different churches in diftant countries, the fame 
 neceffity no longer remained. 
 
 It was in the power of St. Paul to model moft of the 
 phurches he formed, fo as to favour his own ambition : for 
 he preached the gofpel in parts of the world where no other 
 apoftles had been, where Chrift was not named till he brought 
 the knowledge of him, avoiding to build upon another man's 
 foundation (%). Now had he been an impoftor, would he 
 'have confined himfelf to juft the fame gofpel as was de- 
 livered by the other apoftles, where he had fuch a latitude 
 to preach what he pleafed without contradiction ? would he 
 not have twifted and warped the doctrines of Chrift to his 
 own ends, to the particular ufe and expediency of his own 
 followers, and to the peculiar fupport and increafe of his 
 own power ? That this was not done by St. Paul, or by 
 any other of the apoftles, in fo many various parts of the 
 world as they travelled into, and in churches abfolutely 
 under their own direction ; that the gofpel preached by 
 them all fhould be one and the fame *, the doctrines agree- 
 ing 
 
 (z) Rom. xv. 20. 
 
 * If any one imagines that he fees any difference between the 
 doftrines of St. James and St. Paul, concerning juftification by 
 faith pr by works,' Jet him read Mr. Locke's excellent comment 
 upon the epiftles of the latter ; or let him only confider thefe 
 words in the firft epiftle to the Corinthians, c. iv. ver. 27. But 
 1 keep under my tody, and bring it into ftibjeflion, kft iy any means, 
 when I have preached to others, I myfelf Jhould be cajl away. 
 
 If Sr. Paul had believed or taught, that faith without works 
 was fufficient to fave a difciplc of Chrift, to whatpurpofe did he 
 
 keep.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 217 
 
 ing in every particular, without any one of them attributing 
 more to himfelf than he did to the others, or eftablifhing any 
 thing even in point of order or difcipline different from the 
 reft, or more advantageous to his own intereft, credit, or 
 power, is a moft ftrong and convincing proof of their not 
 being impoftors, but acting entirely by divine infpiration. 
 
 If then it appears that St. Paul had nothing to gain by 
 taking this part, let us confider on the other hand, what 
 he gave up, and what he had reafon to fear. He gave up a 
 fortune which he was then in a fair way of advancing. 
 He gave up that reputation which he had acquired by the 
 labours and ftudies of his whole life, and by a behaviour 
 which had been blamelcfs, touching the rlghteoufnefs which is 
 in the law (a). He gave up his friends, his relations, and 
 family, from whom he eftranged and banifhed himfelf for 
 life. He gave up that religion which he had profited in above 
 many of his equals in his own nation^ and thofe traditions of 
 his fathers, which he had been more exceedingly zealous of (b). 
 How hard this facrifice was to a man of his warm temper, 
 and above all men to a Jew, is. worth confideration. That 
 nation is known to have been more tenacious of their reli- 
 gious opinions than any other upon the face of the earth. 
 The ftri'&eft and proudeft fe& among them was that of the 
 Pharifees, under whofe difcipline -St. Paul was bred. The 
 departing therefore fo fuddenly from their favourite tenets, 
 ' renouncing their pride, and from their difciple becoming 
 their adverfary, was a moft difficult effort for one to make, 
 
 fo nurfed up in the efteem of them, and whofe early pre- 
 
 judices 
 ; keep under his body, fince his falvation was not to depend upon 
 
 that being fubjett to the power of his reafor, but merely upon 
 : the faith he profefled ? His faith was firm, and fo ftrongly 
 
 founded upon the moft certain conviftion, that he had no realon 
 
 , to doubt its continuance ; how could he then think it poflible, 
 
 \ that while he retained that faving faith, he might neverthelefs 
 
 be cajl aivay ? or if he had fuppofed that his e/ecJion and calling 
 
 was of iuch a nature, as that it irrefejlibly impelled him to good, 
 
 and reftrained him from evil, how could he exprefs any fear, 
 
 left the luft of his body fhould prevent his falvation ? can fuch 
 
 : an apprehenfion be made to agree with the notions of abfolutc 
 
 predeftination afcribed by feme to St. Paul ? He could have no 
 
 1 doubt that the grace of God had been given to him in the moft 
 
 extraordinary manner } yet we fee, that he thought his election 
 
 I was not fo certain, but that he might fail from it again through 
 
 ' the naturalprevalence of bodily appetites, if not duly reftrain- 
 
 ; ed by his own voluntary care. This fingle paflage is a full an- 
 
 fwer, cut of the mouth of St. Paul himfelf, to all the miftakes 
 
 that have been made of his meaning in fome obfcure exprefiions 
 
 concerning grace, election, and juftification. 
 
 (a) Phil. Hi. 6. (b) Gal. i. 14.
 
 4i8 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 judices were fo ftrongly confirmed by all the power of habit, 
 all the authority of example, and all the allurements of 
 honour and intereft. Thefe were the facrifices he had to 
 make in becoming a chriftian : let us now fee what incon- 
 veniences he had to fear : the implacable vengeance of thofe 
 he deferted ; that fort of contempt which is hardeft to bear, 
 the contempt of thofe whofe good opinion he had moft 
 eagerly fought ; and all thofe other complicated evils which i 
 he describes in his fe^ond epiftle to the Corinthians, 
 chap. xi. Evils, the leaft of which were enough to have: 
 frighted any importer even from the moft hopeful and pro- 
 fitable cheat. But where the advantage propofed bears no i 
 proportion to the dangers incurred, or the mifchiefs endured, 
 he muft be abfolutely out of his fenfes who will either en-j 
 gage in an impofture, or, being engaged, perfevere. 
 
 Upon the whole then I think I have proved that the 
 defire of wealth, of fame, or of power, could be no motive 
 to make St. Paul a convert to Chrift ; but that on the con-i 
 trary he muft have been checked by that defire, as well asi 
 by the juft apprehenfion of many inevitable and infup- 1 
 portable evils, from taking a part fo contradictory to his 
 paft life, to all the principles he had imbibed, all the habits 
 he had contracted. It only remains to be enquired whether i 
 the gratification of any other pafllon under the authority of 
 that religion, or by the means it afforded, could be his in-i 
 ducement. 
 
 Now that there have been fome impoftors who have pre- 
 tended to revelations from God, meerly to give a loofe to 
 irregular pafllons, and fet themfelves free from all restraints : 
 of government, law, or morality, both ancient and modern 
 hiftory (hews. But the doctrine preached by St. Paul is : 
 abfolutely contrary to all fuch defigns (a). His writings 
 breathe nothing but the ftricteft morality, obedience to ma-: 
 giftrates, order and' government, with the utmoft abhor- 
 rence of all licentioufnefs, idlenefs, or loofe behaviour, 
 under the cloak of religion. We no where read in his 
 works that faints are above moral ordinances ; that dominion 
 or property is founded in grace ; that there is no difference 
 in moral actions; that any impulfes of the mind are to 
 direct us againft the light of our reafon and the laws of 
 nature ; or any of thofe wicked tenets from which the peace 
 of fociety has been difturbed, and the rules of morality 
 have been broken, by men pretending to act under the 
 {auction of a divine revelation. Nor does any part of his i 
 life, either before or after his converfion to Chriftianity, 
 bear any mark of a libertine difpofition. As among the | 
 Jews, fo among the Chriftians, his converfation and man- 
 ner* 
 (a} See particularly Rou. xi. & xiii. & Col iii.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 219 
 
 ners were blamelefs. Hear the appeal that he makes to the 
 Thefialonians upon his doctrine and behaviour among 
 them : our exhortation was ' not of deceit nor of unc'eannefs y 
 4 nor in guile : ye are witnefles, and God alfo, how holily^ 
 
 * and jujtly^ and unblameably we behaved ourfelves among 
 
 * you that believe.' i ThefT. ii. 10. * And to the Corin- 
 thians he fays, We have wronged no man, we have cor- 
 rupted no man, we have defrauded no man. 2 Cor. vii. 2. 
 
 It was not then the defire of gratifying any irregular 
 pafiion, that could induce St. Paul to turn Chriftian, any 
 more than the hope of advancing himfelf, either in wealth, 
 or reputation, or power. But ftill it is poilible fome men 
 may fay (and I would leave no imaginable objection unan- 
 fwered), that though St. Paul could have no felfifh or in- 
 terefted view in undertaking fuch an impofture, yet for the 
 fake of its moral doctrines he might be inclined to fupport 
 the Chriftian faith, and make ui'e of fome pious frauds to 
 advance a religion, which, though erroneous and falfe in 
 its theological tenets, and in the facts upon which it was 
 grounded, was in its precepts and influence beneficial to 
 mankind. 
 
 Now it is true that fome good men in the Heathen world 
 have both pretended to divine revelations, and introduced 
 or fupported religions they knew to be falfe, under a notion 
 of public utility : but befides that this practice was built 
 upon maxims difclaimed by the Jews (who, looking upon 
 truth, not utility, to be thebafisof their religion, abhorred 
 all fuch frauds, and thought them injurious to the honour 
 of God) the circumftances they acted in were very different 
 from thole of St. Paul. 
 
 The firft reformers of favages, uncivilized nations, had 
 :no other way to tame thofe barbarous people, and bring 
 them to fubmit to order and government, but by the re- 
 verence which they acquired from this pretence. The 
 fraud was therefore alike beneficial both to the deceiver and 
 
 the 
 
 ' * If St. Paul had held any fecret doctrines, or ETbterick, (as 
 the philofophers call them) we fhould have probably found 
 them in the letters he wrote to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, 
 his bofoni-friends, and difciples. But both the theological and 
 'moral doClrir.es are exactly the fame in them as thofe he wrote 
 to the churches. A very ftrong preemptive proof of his being 
 ;no impoftor ! Surely had he been one, he would have given 
 : fcine hints in thefe private letters of the cheat they were carry- 
 ing on, and fome lecret directions to turn it to fume worldly 
 ,1-nirpofes of one kind or another. But no fuch thing is to be 
 found in any one of them. The fame difinterefte'd, holy, and 
 divine ipirit breathes in all thefe, as in the other more public 
 spittles, () See alfo ^ Cor. i. 12. and iv. a.
 
 220 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 the deceived. And in all other inftances which can be 
 given of good men acting this part, they not only did it to 
 ierve good ends, but were fecure of its doing no harm. 
 Thus when Lycurgus perfuaded the Spartans, or Numa 
 the Romans, that the laws of the one were infpired by 
 Apollo, or thofe of the other by Egeria, when they taught 
 their people to put great faith in oracles, or in augury, no 
 temporal mifchief, either to them or their people, could at- 
 tend the reception of that belief. It drew on no perfecu- 
 tions, no enmity with the world. But at that time when 
 St. Paul undertook the preaching of the Gofpel, to perfuade 
 any man to be a Chriftian, was to perfuade him to expofe 
 himfelf to all the calumnies human nature could fuffer. This 
 St. Paul knew ; this he not only expected, but warned thofe 
 he taught to look for it too : i Theft", iii. 4. 2 Cor. vi. 4, 5. 
 Eph. vi. 10, n, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. Phil. i. 28, 29, 30. 
 Col. i. 9, 10, ii. Rom. viii. 35, 36. The only fupport 
 that he had himfelf, or gave to them, was, ' That if they 
 * Buffered with Chrift, they fhould be alfo glorified together.' 
 And that ' he reckoned that the fufferings of the prefent 
 ' time were not worthy to be compared with that glory* 
 Rom. viii. 1 7, 18. So likewifehe writes to the Theflalonians, 
 ' We ourfeives glory in you, in the churches of God, for 
 ' your patience and faith in all your perfections and tribu- 
 ' lations that you endure ; which is a manifeft token of the 
 ' righteous judgement of God, that ye may be counted 
 ' worthy of the kingdom of God, for which alfo ye fuffer 
 4 Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompenfe [01 
 
 * pay] tribulation to them that trouble you; and to you, 
 ' who are troubled, reft with us, when the Lord Jefus JhaL 
 ' be revealed fro?n Heaven, with his mighty angels^ &c.' 2 Thefi 
 i. 4, 5, 6, 7. And to the Corinthians he fays, ' If inthi 
 4 life o/y, we have hope in Chrift, we are of all men the moj 
 
 * miferable.' How much reafon he had to fay this, the hatred 
 the contempt, the torments, the deaths endured by the Cri 
 ftians in that age, and long afterwards, abundantly prove 
 Whoever profefled the gofpel under thefe circumftances 
 without an entire conviction of its being a divine revelation 
 muft have been mad ; and if he made others profefs it b< 
 fraud or deceit, he muft have been worfe than mad, he mul 
 have been the moft hardened wretch that ever breathed. Coulc; 
 anv man, who had in his nature the leaft fparkor" humanity 
 fubjet his fellow-creatures to fo many miferies ? or couh 
 one that had in his mind the Jeaft ray of reafon, expofe him 
 felf to (hare them with thofe he deceived, in order toadvanc 
 a religion which he knew to be falfe, meerly for the fake o 
 its moral doctrines ? Such an extravagance is too abfurd t 
 be fuppofed, and I dwell too long on a notion that upon 
 little reflexion confutes itfelf. 
 
 I wouli
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 221 
 
 I would only add to the other proofs I have given that 
 
 St. Paul could have no rational motive to become a difciple 
 
 of Chrift, unlefs he fmcerely believed in him, this obfer- 
 vation : that whereas it may be objected to the other apoftles, 
 by thofe who are refolved not to credit their teftimony, that' 
 having been deeply engaged with Jefus during his life, they 
 were obliged to continue the fame prufeffions after his death, 
 for the fupport of their own credit, and from having gone 
 too far to go back, this can by no means be faid of St. Paul. 
 On the contrary, whatever force there may be in that way 
 of reafoning, it all tends to convince us that St. Paul muft 
 naturally have continued a Jew, and an enemy of Chrift 
 Jefus. If they were engaged on one fide, he was as ftrongly 
 engaged on the other. If fhame with-held them from chang- 
 ing fides, much more ought it to haveftopt him, who, being 
 of a higher education and rank in life a great deal than they, 
 had more credit to lofe, and muft be fuppofed to have been 
 vaftly more fenfible to that fort of fhame. The only dif- 
 ference was, that they, by quitting their mafter after his 
 death, might have preserved themfelves ; whereas he, by 
 
 ! quitting the Jews, and taking up the crofs of Chrift, cer- 
 tainly brought on his own deftrudtion. 
 
 As therefore no rational motive appears for St. Paul's em- 
 bracing the faith of Chrift, without having been really con- 
 vinced of the truth of it : but on the contrary every thing 
 concurred to deter him from adding that part ; one might very 
 
 'juftly conclude, that when a man of his underftanding em- 
 braced that faith, he was in reality convinced of the truth of 
 it, and that, by confequence, he was not an impoftor, who 
 faid what he knew to be falfe with an intent to deceive. 
 
 But that no fhadowof doubt may remain upon the impof- 
 iibility of his having been fuch an impoftor; that it may not 
 be faid, The minds of men are fometimes fo capricious, 
 
 * that they will acl without any rational motives, they know 
 
 * not why, and fo perhaps might St. Paul ;' 1 fhall next en- 
 deavour to prove, that if he had been fo unaccountably wild 
 and abfurd, as to undertake an impofture fo unprofitable and 
 dangerous both to himfelf and thofe he deceived by it, he 
 could not poffibly have carried it on with any fuccefs by 
 the means that we know he employed. 
 
 Firft then let me obferve, that if his conversion, and the 
 part that he acted in confequence of it, was an impof- 
 ture, it was fuch an impofture as could not be carried on by 
 one man alone. The faith he profefled, and which he be- 
 came an apoftle of, was not his invention. He was not the 
 hor or beginner of it, and therefore it was not in his power 
 
 to
 
 222 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 to draw the doctrines of it out of his own imagination. 
 With Jefus,who was the author and head of it, he had ne- 
 ver had any communication before his death, nor with his 
 apoftles after his death, except as their perfecutor. As he 
 took on himfelf the office and charadter of an apoftle, it was 
 abfolutely necefTary for him to have a precife and perfect 
 knowledge of all the facts contained in the gofpel, feveralof 
 which had only pafled between Jefiis himfelf and his twelve 
 apoftles, and others more privately ftil!, fo that they could 
 be known but to very few, being not made public by any 
 writings ; otherwife he would have expofed himfelf to ridi- 
 cule among thofe who preached that golpel with mure know- 
 ledge than he j and as the teftimony they bore would have 
 been different in point of fact, and many of their doctrines 
 and interpretations of fcripture repugnant to his, from their 
 entire difagreement with thofe Jewifh opinions in which he 
 was bred up ; either they muft have been forced to ruin his 
 credit, or he would have ruined theirs. Some general no- 
 tices he might have gained of thefe matters from the Chrif- 
 tians he perfecuted, but not exact nor extenfive enough to 
 qualify him for an apoftle, whom the leaft error in thefe 
 points would have difgraced, and who muft have been ruin- 
 ed by it in all his pretenfions to that infpiration, from whence 
 the apoftolical authority was chiefly derived. 
 
 It was therefore impoflible for him to act this part but in 
 confederacy at leaft with the apoftles. Such a confederacy was 
 ftill more necefTary for him, as the undertaking to preach the 
 gofpel did not only require an exact and particular know- 
 ledge of all it contained, but an apparent power of working 
 miracles ; fox to fuch a power all the apoftles appealed in 
 proof of their mifllon, and of the doctrines they preached. 
 He was therefore to learn of them by what fecret arts they- 
 fo impofed on the fenfes of men, if this power was a cheat. 
 But how could he gain thefe men to become his confederate ? 
 was it by furioufly perfecuting them and their brethren, as 
 we find that he did, to the very moment of his converfions ? 
 would they venture to truft their capital enemy with all the 
 fecrets of their impofture, with thofe upon which all their 
 hopes and credit depended ? would they put it in his power 
 to take away not only their lives, but the honour of their 
 feet, which they preferred to their lives, by fo ill-placed a 
 confidence ! would men fo fecret as not to be drawn bv the 
 moft fevere perfecutions to fay one word which could con- 
 vince them of being importers, confefs themfelves fuch to 
 their perfecutor, in hopes of his being their accomplice? 
 
 This
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 223 
 
 This is ftil) more impoflible than that he {hould attempt to 
 engage in their fraud without their confent and afliftance. 
 
 We muft fuppofe then, that till he came to Damafcus, 
 he had no communication with the apoftles, acted in no con- 
 cert with them, and learnt nothing from them except the doc- 
 trines which they had publicly taught to all the world. 
 When he came there, he told the Jews to whom he brought 
 letters from the high-prieft andthe fynagogue againft ths(a) 
 Chriftians, of his having feen in the way a great light from 
 Heaven, and heard Chrift Jefus reproaching him with his 
 perfecution, and commanding him to go into the city, 
 where it {hould be told him what he was to do. But to ac- 
 count for his chufmg this method of declaring himfelf a 
 convert to Chrift, we muft fuppofe that all thofe, who were 
 with him, when he pretended he had this vifion, were his 
 accomplices. Otherwife the ftory he told could have gain- 
 ed no belief, being contradicted by them whofe teftimony 
 was neceflary to vouch for the truth of it. And yet, how 
 can we fuppofe, that all thefemen {hould be willing to join 
 in this impofture ? They were probably officers of juftice, 
 or foldiers, who had been employed often before in execut- 
 ing the orders of the high-prieft and the rulers againft the 
 Chriftians. Or if they were chofen particularly for this ex- 
 pedition, they muft have been chofen by them as men they 
 could truft for their zeal in that caufe. What fhould in- 
 duce them to the betraying that bufinefs they were em- 
 ployed in ? does it even appear that they had any con- 
 nection with the man they fo lied for, before or after this 
 time, or any reward from him for it ? this is therefore a dif- 
 ficulty, in the firft outfet of this impofture, not to be over- 
 :ome. 
 
 But further, he was to be inftructed by one at Damafcus. 
 That inftructor therefore muft have been his accomplice, 
 hough they appear to be abfolute ftrangers to one another, and 
 hough he was a man of an excellent character, who bad a good 
 eport of all thejews that dwelt at Damafcus^ and fo was very 
 mlilcely to have engaged in fuch an impofture. Notwith- 
 tanding thefe improbabilities, this man, I fay, muft have 
 i een his confident and accomplice in carrying on this wicked 
 raud, and the whole matter muft have been previoufly agreed 
 n between them. But here again the fame objection occurs : 
 ow could this man venture to act fuch a dangerous part 
 'ithout the confent of the other difciples, efpecially of the 
 softies, or by what means could he obtain their confent ? 
 
 and 
 
 () The difciples of Chrift were not called Chriftians till af- 
 r this time; but I ufe the name as moft familiar to us, and to 
 'Old circumlocutions.
 
 22 4 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 and how abfurdly did they contrive their bufmefs, to make 
 the converfion of Saul the effea of a miracle, which all 
 thofe who were with him muft certify did never happen ! 
 how much eafier would it have been to have made him be 
 prefent at fome pretended miracle wrought by the difciples, 
 or by Ananias himfelf, when none were able to difcover the 
 fraud and have imputed his converfion to that, or to the ar- 
 guments ufea by iome of his prifoners whom he might have 
 difcourfed with, and queftioned about their faith, and the 
 grounds of it, in order to colour his intended convernon ! 
 
 As this was the fafeft, fo it was the moft natural method 
 of bringing about fuch a change ; inftead of afcribing it to 
 an event which lay fo open to deteaion (a). For, (to ufe the 
 words of St. Paul to Agrippa) this thing was not done in a 
 corner but in the eye of the world, and fubjea immediately 
 to the examination of thofe who would be moft ftrict in, 
 fearching into the truth of it, the Jews at Damafcus. Had 
 they been able to bring any fhadow of proof to convia him 
 of fraud in this affair, his whole fcheme of impofture mult 
 have been nipt in the bud. Nor were they at Jerufalem, 
 whofe commiflion he bore, lefs concerned to difcover fo pro- 
 voking a cheat. But we find that many years afterwards, 
 when they had had all the time and means they could defire 
 to make the ftriaeft enquiry, he was bold enough to appeal to 
 Agrippa in the prefenceof Feftus (b], upon his own know- 
 ledge of the truth of his ftory, who did notcontradia him, 
 though he had certainly heard all that the Jews could al- 
 ledae againft the credit of it in any particular. A very re- 
 markable proof both of the notoriety of the faa, and the 
 integrity of the man, who, with fo fearlefs a confidence 
 could call upon a king to give teftimony for him, even while 
 he was fitting in judgement upon him. 
 
 But to return to Ananias, Is it not ftrange, if this ftory 
 had been an impofture, antTie had been joined with Paul 
 in carrying it on, that after their meeting at Damafcus we 
 never mould hear of their conforting together, or aaing in 
 concert ; or that the former drew any benefit from the 
 friend&ip of the latter, when he became fo confiderable, 
 among theChriftians ? Did Ananias engage and continue in 
 fuch a dangerous fraud without any hope or defire of private 
 advantage ? or was it fafe for Paul to (hake him off, anc 
 rifk his refentmen; ? There is, I think, no other way to gei 
 over this difficulty, but by fuppofing that Ananias happenec 
 to die foon after the other's converfion. Let us then take 
 that for o-ranted, without any authority either of hiftory or 
 
 tradition 
 
 (a) Als xsvi. 26. () Afts.xxvi. 26.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 225 
 
 tradition ; and let us fee in what manner this wondrous im- 
 pofture was carried on by Paulhimfelf. His firft care ought 
 to have been, to get himfelf owned, and received as anapof- 
 tle by the apoftles. Till this was done, the bottom he flood 
 upon was very narrow, nor could he have any probable 
 means of fuppcrting himfelf in any efteem or credit among 
 the difciples. Intruders into impoitures run double rifles ; 
 they are in danger of being detected, not only by thofe up- 
 on whom they attempt to pracWe their cheats, but alfo by 
 thofe whofe fociety they force themfelves into, who mult 
 always be jealous of fuch an intrufion, and much more from 
 one who had always before behaved as their enemy. There- 
 fore to gain the apoftles, and bring them to admit him into 
 a participation of all their myfteries, all their defigns, and 
 ! all their authority, was abfolutely neceflary at this time to 
 Paul. The leaft delay was of dangerous confequence, and 
 might expofe him to fuch inconveniences as he never after- 
 1 wards* could overcome (a). But, inftead of attending to 
 this neceflity, he went into Arabia, and then returned again 
 to Damafcus ; nor did he go to Jerufalem till three years 
 were paft. 
 
 Now this conduct may be accounted for, if it be true that 
 (as he declares in his epiftle to the Galatians) (b) ' he nei- 
 ' ther received the gofpel of any man, neither was he taught 
 * it, but by the revelation of Jefus Chrift.' Under fuch a 
 mafter, and with the affiftance of his divine power, hemight 
 go on boldly without any human aflbciates ; but an impel" - 
 tor fo left to himfelf, fo deprived of all help, all fupport, all 
 ' recommendation, could not have fucceeded. 
 
 Further j we find that at Antioch he was not afraid to with- 
 { Jland Peter to bis face (c)> and even to reprove him before all 
 the difciples i becaufe be was to be blamed. If he was an im- 
 poftor, how could he venture to offend that apoftle, whom 
 ! it fo highly concerned him to agree with, and pleafe? Ac- 
 complices in a fraud are obliged to fliew greater regards to 
 'each other; fuch freedom belongs to truth alone. 
 
 But let us confider what difficulties he had to encounter 
 among the Gentiles themfelves, in the enterprize he under- 
 took of going to them, making himfelf their apojlle, and con- 
 verting them to the religion of Chrift. As this undertaking 
 was the diftinguifhing part of his apoftolical functions, that 
 which, in the language of his epiftles, he Was particularly 
 called to ; or which, to fpeak like an unbeliever, he chofe and 
 'affigned to himfelf, it deferves a particular confideration : 
 but I fhall only touch the principal points of it as concifely 
 Q_ as 
 
 (a) Gal. i. 17, 18. (J) Gal. i. 12. (f) Gal.gr. u, 14.
 
 226 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 as I can, becaufe you have in a great meafure cxhaufted the ' 
 fubjecl: in your late excellent booKon therefurreftion, where j 
 you difcourfe with fuch ftrength of reafon and eloquence up- ; 
 on the difficulties that oppofedthe propagation of the Chrif- 
 tian religion, in all parts of the world. 
 
 Now in this enterprize St. Paul was to contend, ift, with 
 the policy and power of the magistrates ; 2dly, with the in- 
 terelr, credit, and craft of the prietts ; 3dly, with the pre- j 
 judices and paflions of the people; 4thly, with the wifdom , 
 and pride of the philofophers. 
 
 That in all heathen countries the eftabliftied religion was , 
 interwoven with their civil conftitution, and fupported by 
 the magiftrates as an effential part of the government, who- i 
 ever has any acquaintance with antiquity cannot but know. ; 
 They tolerated indeed many different worships (though not 
 with fo entire a latitude as fome people fuppofe) as they fuf- j 
 fered men to difcourfe very freely concerning religion pro- 
 vided they would fubmit to an exterior conformity with the 
 eftablifheii rites ; nay, according to the genius of paganifm, 
 which allowed an intercommunity of worfhip, they injnoft 
 places admitted, without any great difficulty, new gods 
 and new rites ; but they no where endured any at- 
 tempt to overturn the eftablifhed religion, or any di- 
 re& oppofition made to it ; efleeming that an unpar- 
 donable offence, not to the gods alone, but to the ftate. 
 This was fo univerfal a notion, and fo conftant a maxim of 
 heathen policy, that when the Chnftian religion fetitfelf up 
 in oppofition to all other religions, admitted no intercom-, 1 
 munity with them, but declared that the gods of the Gen-! 
 tiles were not to be worjhipped, nor any fociety fuffered be- 
 tween them and the only true God ; when this new doclrine 
 began to be propagated, and made fuch a progrefs as to fall 
 under the notice of the magiftrate, the civil power was eve- 
 ry where armed with all its terrors againft it. When there- 
 fore St. Paul undertook the converfion of' the Gentiles, he 
 knew very well, that the moft fevere perfections muft be 
 the confequence of any fuccefs in his defign. 
 
 Secondly, This danger was rendered more certain by tht 
 oppofition he was to expect from the intereft, credit, anc 
 craft of the priefts. How gainful a trade they, with all theii 
 inferior dependants, made of thofe fuperftitions which he 
 propofed to deftroy ; how much credit they had with the 
 people as well as the ftate by the means of them, and how 
 much craft they employed in carrying on their importunes, 
 all hiftory fhews. St. Paul could not doubt that all thef< 
 men would exert their utmoft abilities to ftop the fpreadin^ 
 of the doctrines he preached, doitrines which ftruclc at thi 
 root of their power and gain, and were much more terribU 
 
 t<
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 to them than thofe of the moft atheiftical fe& of philofophers, 
 becaufe the latter contented themfelves with denying their 
 principles, but at the fame time declared for fupporting their 
 practices, as ufeful cheats, or at leaft acquiefced in them as 
 eftablifliments authorifed by the fandtion of law. Whate- 
 ver therefore their cunning could do to fupport their own 
 worlhip, whatever aid they could draw from the magiftrate, 
 whatever zeal they could raife in the people, St. Paul was to 
 contend with, uufupported by any human affiftance. 
 
 And thirdly. This he was to do in direct oppofition to all 
 the prejudices and palfions of the people. Now had he con- 
 fined his preaching to Judaea alone, this difficulty would not 
 have occurred in near lo great a degree. The people there 
 were fo moved by the miracles the apoftles had wrought, as 
 well as by the memory of thofe done by Jefus, that in fpite 
 of their rulers, they began to be favourably difpofed towards 
 them (d) ; and we even find that the high-prieft and the 
 council had more than once been with-held from treating the 
 apoftles with fo much feverity as they defired to do, for fear 
 of tfie people. But in the people among the Gentiles no fuch 
 difpofitions could be expected: their prejudices were violent, 
 not only in favour of their own fuperftitions, but in a parti- 
 cular manner againft any doctrines taught by a Jew. As, 
 from their averfion to all idolatry, and irreconcileable fepara- 
 tion from all other religions, the Jews were accufed of hat- 
 ing mankind, fo were they hated by all other nations : nor 
 were they hated alone, but defpifed. To what a degree that 
 contempt was carried, appears as well by the mention made 
 of them in heathen authors, as by the complaints Jofephus 
 makes of the unreafonablenefs and injuftice of it in his apo- 
 logy. What authority then could St. Paul flatter himfelf 
 that his preaching would carry along with it, among people 
 to whom he was at once both the object of national hatred 
 and national fcorn ? But, befides this popular prejudice 
 againft a Jew, the doctrines he taught were fuch as (hocked 
 all their moft ingrafted religious opinions. They agreed to 
 no principles of which he could avail himfelf, to procure their 
 aflent to the other parts of the gofpel he preached. To con- 
 vert the Jews to Chrift Jefus, he was able to argue from their 
 own fcriptures, upon the authority of books which they 
 owned to contain divine revelations, and from which he 
 could clearly convince them, that Jefus was the very Chrijt. 
 But all thefe ideas were new to the Gentiles ; they expected 
 no Chrift, they allowed no fuch fcripturesf^J, they were to 
 be taught the Old Tejlament as well as the New. How was this 
 to be done by a man not even authorized by his own nation ; 
 oppofed by thofe who were greateft, and thought wifeft among 
 Q^ 2 them ; 
 
 (d] Afts iv. 21, 26. (/) Afts ix. 22.
 
 228. OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 1 
 
 them ; either quite fingle, or only attended by one or two 
 more under the fame disadvantages, and even of lefs confi- 
 deration than he ? 
 
 The light of nature indeed, without exprefs revelation (/), 
 might have conducted the Gentiles to the knowledge of one 
 God the creator of all things ; and to that light St. Paul 
 might appeal, as we find that he did. But clear as it was, 
 they had almoft put it out by their fuperftitions (g), having 
 changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made 
 like to corruptible man, and to birds^ and four-footed beajh^ and 
 creeping things^ andferving the creature more than the Creator. 
 And to this idolatry they were ftrongly attached, not by their 
 prejudices alone, but by their paflions, which were flattered 
 and gratified in it, as they believed that their deities would 
 be rendered propitious, not by virtue and holinefs, but by 
 offerings and incenfe, and outward rites ; rites which daz- 
 zled their fenfes by magnificent (hews, and allured them by 
 pleafures often of a very impure and immoral nature. In- 
 ftead of all this, the gofpel propofed to them no other terms 
 of acceptance with God but a worihip of him in fpirit and 
 truth) fincere repentance, and perfect fubmiffion to the divine 
 laws, the ftricteft purity of life and manners, and renounc- 
 ing of all thofe lufts in which they had formerly walked. 
 How unpalatable a doctrine was this to men fo given up to 
 the power of thofe lufts, as the whole heathen world was at 
 that time ! If their philofophers could be brought to approve 
 it, there could be no hope that the people would relifli 
 it, or exchange the eafe and indulgence which thofe religi- 
 ons they were bred up in allowed to their appetites, for one 
 fo harm and fevere. But might not St. Paul, in order to 
 gain them, relax that feverity ? He might have done fo, no 
 doubt, and probably would, if he had been an impoftor ; 
 but it appears by all his epiftles, that he preached it as pure- 
 ly, and enjoined it as ftrongly, as Jefus himfelf. 
 
 But fuppofing they might be per fuadcd to quit their habi- 
 tual fenfuality for the purity of the gofpel, and to forfake 
 their idolatries (), which St. Paul reckons amongft the 
 works of the jlejb, for the fpiritttal worfliip of the one invifible 
 God; how were they difpofed to receive the doctrine of the 
 falvation of man by the crofs of Jefus Chrift ? could they, 
 who were bred in notions fo contrary to that great myjlery (i), 
 to that bidden wifdom of God, which none of the princes of this 
 world knew, incline to receive it againft the inftruclions of 
 all their teachers, and the example of all their fupcriors ? 
 could they whofe gods had almoft all been powerful kings, 
 and mighty conquerors, they, who at that very time paid 
 
 divine 
 
 (/) AQsxiv. 17. xvii. 17. 28. (g) Rom. i. 23, 25. -(A) Gal. 
 v. 19, 20. (0 i Cor. i. 7, 8.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 229 
 
 divine honours to the emperors of Rome, whofe only 
 title to deification was the imperial power ; could they, 
 I fay, reconcile their ideas to a crucified Svn of God, to 'a- 
 Redeemer of mankind on the crofs ? * would (hey look there 
 for him who is the image of the invifible God, the firft-born of 
 every creature (k) : by whom and for whom were all things 
 created that are in heaven, and that are in earth, whether they 
 be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers ? Now, 
 moft iurely, the natural man (to fpealc in the words of St. Paul) 
 received not thefe things, for they are foolijhnefs to him ; neither 
 could he know them, becaufe they are Jpiritually difcerned (/). I 
 may therefore conclude, that in the enterprize of converting 
 the Gentiles, St. Paul was to contend not only with the po- 
 licy and power of the magiftrates, and with the intereft, 
 credit, and craft of the priefts, but alfo with the prejudices 
 and paffions of the people. 
 
 I am next to (hew, that he was to expecl no lefs oppofition 
 from the wifdom and pride of the philofophers. And though 
 fome may imagine, that men who pretend to be raifed and 
 refined, above vulgar prejudices and vulgar paflions, would 
 have been helpful to him in his defign, it will be found 
 upon examination, that inftead of affafting or befriending^ 
 the gofpel, they were its word and moft irreconcileable ene<- 
 mies. For they had prejudices of their own ftijl more rCf 
 pugnant to the doctrines of Chrift than thofe of the vulgar, 
 more deeply rooted, and more obftinately fixed in their 
 minds. The wifdom upon which they valued themfelves, 
 chiefly confifted in vain metaphyfical fpeculations, in logical 
 fubtleties, in endlefs difputes, in highflown conceits of the 
 perfection and felf-fufficiency of human wifdom, in dogma- 
 tical pofitivenefs about doubtful opinions, or fceptical doubts 
 about the moft clear and certain truths. It muft appear at 
 firft fight, that nothing could be more contradictory to the 
 firft principles of the Chriftian religion, than thofe of the 
 atheiftical, or fceptical feels, which at that time prevailed 
 very much both among the Greeks and the Romans \ nor (hall 
 we find that the theiftical feds were much lefs at enmity 
 with it, when we confider the doctrines they held upon the 
 nature of God and the foul. 
 
 But I will not enlarge on a fubjedl which the moft learned 
 Mr. Warburton has handled fo well (m). If it were ne- 
 cefTary to enter particularly into this argument, I could eafily 
 prove, that there was not one of all the different philofophi- 
 
 cal 
 
 (k) ColofT. 15, 16. (/) i Cor. ii. 14. ( w ) See the Divine 
 Legation of Mofes, 1. iii. See alfb a late Pamphlet, entitled, 
 A critical Enquiry into the Opinions and Practice of the ancient 
 Philofophers, concerning the Nature of the Soul, and a future 
 
 otate.
 
 2 3 o OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 cal feels then upon earth, not even thePlatonicks themfelves, 
 who are thought to favour it moft, that did not maintain fome 
 opinions fundamentally contrary to thofe of the gofpel. And 
 in this they all agreed, to explode as moft unphilofophical, 
 and contrary to every notion that any among them main- 
 tained, that great article of the Chriftian religion, upon 
 which the foundations of it are laid, and without which 
 St. Paul'declares to his profelytes (w), their faith would be 
 vain, the refurre&ion of the dead with their bodies, of which 
 refurreftionChrift was the firjl- born (0). Befides the contrariety 
 of their tenets to thofe of the gofpel, the pride that was 
 common to all the philofophers, was of itfelf an almoft 
 invincible obftacle againft the admiflion of the evangeli- 
 cal doctrines calculated to humble that pride, and teach 
 them, that profejjing tbemfehes to be wife they became fools (/>). 
 This pride was no lefs intractable, no lefs averfe to the in- 
 ftructions of Chrift, or of his apoftles, than that of the 
 Scribes and Pharifees. St. Paul was therefore to contend in 
 his enterprize of converting the Gentiles, with all the op-' 
 pofition that could be made to it by all the different feels of 
 philofophers. And how formidable an oppofition this was, 
 let thofe confider who are acquainted from hiftory with the 
 . great credit thofe feels had obtained at that time in the world, 
 a credit even fuperior to that of the priefts. Whoever pre- 
 tended to learning or virtue was their difciple ; the greateft 
 magiftcates, generals, kings, ranged themfelves under their 
 difcipline, were trained up in their fchools, and profcffed the 
 opinions they taught. 
 
 All thefe fects made it a maxim, not to difturb the popular 
 worftiip, or eftablifhed religion ; but under thofe limitations 
 they taught very freely whatever they pleafed, and no reli- 
 gious opinions were more warmly fupported, than thofe they 
 delivered were by their followers. The Chriftian religion at 
 once overturned their feveral fyftems, taught a morality more 
 per fed); than theirs, and eftablifhed it upon higher and much 
 ftronger foundations, mortified their pride, confounded their 
 learning, difcovered their ignorance, ruined their credit. 
 Againft fuch an enemy, what would they not do ? would 
 they not exert the whole power of their rhetorick, the whole 
 art of their logjcty, their influence over the people, their in- 
 tereft with the great, to difcredit a novelty fo alarming to 
 them all ! If St. Paul had had nothing to truft to but his 
 own natural faculties, his own underftanding, knowledge, 
 and eloquence, could he have hoped to be fingly a match for 
 all theirs united againft him ? could a teacher unheard-of 
 before, from an obfcure and unlearned part of the world, 
 
 have 
 
 (a) i Cor. xv. 17. jo. (o) Col, i. 18. (/) Rom. i. 21.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 231 
 
 have withftood the authority of Plato, Ariftotle, Epicurus, 
 Zeno, Arcefilaus, Carneades, and all the great names which 
 held the firft rank of human wifdom ? He might as well have 
 attempted alone, or with the help of Barnabas and Silas, of 
 Timotheus and Titus, to have erected a monarchy upon the 
 ruins of all the feveral Mates then in the world, as to have 
 erected Chriftianity upon the deftruction of all the leveral 
 feds of philofophy which reigned in the minds of the Gen- 
 tiles, among whom he preached, particularly the Greeks and 
 the Romans. 
 
 Having thus proved (as I think) that in the work of con- 
 verting the Gentiles, St. Paul could have no afliftance, but 
 was lure on the contrary of the utmoft repugnance and op- 
 pofition to it imaginable, from the magiftrates, from the 
 prices, from the people, and from the philofophers ; it ne- 
 ceflarily follows, that to fucceed in that work he muft have 
 called in fome extraordinary aid, fome ftronger power than 
 that of reafon and argument. Accordingly we find, he tells 
 Jtthe Corinthians, that his fpeech and preaching was not with 
 \jfyiticing words of man's wifdom, but in demonjlration of the 
 'fair it ^nd of power, i Cor. ii. 4. And to the Theflalonians, 
 he fays, our goj'pel came not unto you in word only, but alfo in 
 power and in the Holy Ghojl. I TheflT. i. 5. It was to the 
 i efficacy of the divine power that he afcribed all his fuccefs 
 in thofe countries, and wherever elfe he planted the gofpel 
 of Chrift. If that power really went with him, it would 
 ; enable him to overcome all thofe difficulties that obftru&ed 
 his enterprise, but then he was not an impojlor : our enquiry 
 therefore muft be, whether (fuppofing him to have been an 
 importer) he could by pretending to miracles have overcome 
 all thofe difficulties, and carried on his work with fuccefs. 
 
 Now to give miracles, falfely pretended to, any reputation, 
 two circumftances are principally necefTary, an apt dilpofition 
 ' in thofe whom they are defigned to impofe upon, and a.pow-r 
 1 erful confederacy to carry on, and abet the cheat. Both thefc 
 circumuances, or at leaft one of them, have always accom- 
 ; panied all the falfe miracles, ancient and modern, which 
 ' have obtained any credit among mankind. To both thefe 
 was owing the general faith of the heathen world in oracles, 
 aufpices, auguries, and other impoftures, by which the priefts, 
 combined with the magiftrates, fupported the national wor- 
 fhip, and deluded a people prepoflefled in their favour, and 
 willing to be deceived. Both the fame caufes likewife co- 
 operate in the belief that is given to popifli miracles among 
 : thofe of their own church. But neither of thefe aflifted 
 St. Paul. What prepofleffions could there have been in the 
 minds of the Gentiles, either in favour of him, or the doc- 
 trines 1 he taught ? or rather, what prepofleffions could be 
 
 ftrons-er
 
 232 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 ftronger than thofe, which they undoubtedly had againft 
 both ? If he had remained in Judaea, it might have been 
 fuggefted by unbelievers, that the Jews were a credulous peo- 
 ple, apt to fee k after miracles, and to afford them an eafy be- 
 lief ; and that the fame of thofe faid to be done by Jefus 
 himfelf, and by his apoftles, before Paul declared his con- 
 verfion had predifpofed their minds, and warmed their ima- 
 ginations to the admiffion of others fuppofed to be wrought 
 by the fame power. 
 
 The fignal miracle of the apoftles fpeaking with tongues 
 on the day of Pentecojl (/>), had made three thoufand converts j 
 that of healing the lame man at the gate of the temple, five 
 thoufand more. Nay fuch was the faith of the multitude, 
 that they brought forth the fick into the ftreets, and laid 
 them on beds and couches, that at the leaft the Jhadow of Peter 
 pajfing by might over-Jhadow fame of them, A els x. ver. 15. 
 Here was therefore a good foundation laid for Paul to pro- 
 ceed upon in pretending to fimilar miraculous works ; though 
 the priefts and the rulers were hardened againft them, the 
 people were inclined to give credit to them, and there was 
 reafon to hope for fuccefs among them, both at Jerufalem, 
 and in all the regions belonging to the Jews. But no fuch 
 difpofitions were to be found in the Gentiles. There was 
 among them no matter prepared for impofture to work upon, 
 no knowledge of Chrift, no thought of his power, or of the 
 power of thofe who came in his name (q). Thus, when at 
 Lyftra, St. Paul healed the man who was a cripple from his 
 birth, fo far were the people there from fuppofing that he 
 could be able to do fuch.a'thing as an apojtlc of Chrift, or 
 by any virtue derived from him, that they took Paul and Bar- 
 nabas to be gods of their own, come down in the likenefs of 
 men, and would have facrifeed to them as fuch. 
 
 Now I afk, did the citizens of Lyftra concur in this' 
 matter to the deceiving themfelves ? were their imaginati- 
 ons overheated with any conceits of a miraculous power 
 belonging to Paul, which could difpofe them to think he 
 worked fuch a miracle when he did not ? As the contrary 
 is evident, fo in all other places to which he carried the gof- 
 pel, it may be proved to demonftration, that he could find 
 no difpofition, no aptnefs, no bias to aid his impofture, if 
 the miracles, by which he every where confirmed his preach- 
 ing, had not been true. 
 
 On the other hand, let us examine whether without the 
 advantage of fuch an afliftance there was any confederacy 
 ftrong enough to impofehis falfe miracles upon the Gentiles, 
 who were both unprepared and undifpofed to receive them. 
 The contrary is apparent. He was in no combination with 
 
 theif 
 (/) Aflts ii. 14. iv. ^(q) Ats xiv.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 233 
 
 their priefts or their mag\ftrates\ nofefl or party among them 
 gave him any help ; all eyes were open and watchful to detect 
 his impoftures, all hands ready to punifh him as foon as de- 
 tected. Had he remained in Judaea, he wou'd at leaft have 
 had many confederates, all the apoftles, all the difciples of 
 Chrift, at that time pretty numerous; but in preaching to the 
 Gentiles he was often alone, never with more than two or 
 three companions or followers. Was this a confederacy pow- 
 erful enough to carry on fuch a cheat, in fo many different 
 parts of the world, againft the united oppofition of the ma- 
 giftrates, priefts, philofophers, people, all combined to detect 
 and expofe their frauds ? 
 
 Let it be alfo confidered, that thofe upon whom they prac- 
 tifed thefe arts were not a grofs or ignorant people, apt to 
 miftake any uncommon operations of nature, or juggling 
 tricks, for miraculous acts. The churches planted by St. Paul 
 were in the moft enlightened parts of the world, among the 
 Greeks of Afia and Europe, among the Romans, in the midft 
 of fcience, philofophy, freedom of thought, and in an age 
 more inquifitively curious into the powers of nature, and lefs 
 inclined to credit religious frauds, than any before it. Nor 
 were they only the loweft of the people that he converted. 
 SergiusPaulus, the proconful of Paphos, Eraftus (r), cham- 
 berlain of Corinth, and Dionyfius the Areopagite, were his 
 profelytes. 
 
 Upon the whole it appears beyond contradiction, that his 
 pretenfion to miracles was not aflifted by the difpofttion of thofe 
 whom he defigned to convert by thofe means, nor by any 
 powerful confederacy to carry on, and abet the cheat; without 
 both which concurring circumftances, or one at leaft, no fuch 
 pretenfion was ever fupported with any fuccefs. 
 
 Both thefe circumftances concurred even in the late famous 
 miracles fuppofed to be done at Abbe Paris's tomb. They had 
 not indeed the fupport of the government, and for that reafoa 
 appear to deferve more attention than other popifh miracles; 
 but they were fupported by all the janfenifts, a very powerful 
 and numerous party in France, made up partly of wife and 
 able men, partly of bigots and enthufiafts. All thefe confe- 
 derated together to give credit to miracles, faid to be worked 
 in behalf of their party ; and thofe who believed them were 
 ftrongly difpofed to that belief. And yet with thefe advantages 
 how eafily were they fupprefled ! only by walling up that part 
 of the church, where the tomb of the faint, who was fuppofed 
 to work them, was placed ! Soon after this was done, a paper 
 was fixed on the wall with this infcription : 
 De par le ray defenfe a Dieu 
 De faire miracle en ce lieu^ 
 
 By 
 (r) owtoro/xoj T?? are^fl/f, treafurer or bailiff of the city.
 
 234 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 By command of the king y God is forbidden to work any more mira~ 
 ties here. The pafquinade was a witty one, but the event 
 turned the point of it againft the party by which it was 
 made : for if God had really worked any miracles there, 
 could this abfurd prohibition have taken effe& ? would he 
 have fuffered his purpofe to be defeated by building a wall ? 
 When all the apoftles were fhut up in prifon to hinder their 
 working of miracles, the angel of the Lord opened the prifon 
 doors(/^, and let them out. Butthe power of abbe Paris could 
 neither throw down the wall that excluded his votaries, nor 
 operate through that impediment. And yet his miracles are 
 often compared with, and oppofed by unbelievers to, thofe of 
 Chrift and his apoftles, which is the reafon of my having 
 taken this particular notice of them here. But to go back 
 to the times nearer to St. Paul's. There is in Lucian an 
 account of a very extraordinary and fuccefsful impofture 
 carried on in his days ("), by one Alexander of Pontus, who 
 introduced a new god into that country, whofe prophet he 
 called himfelf, and in whofe name he pretended to miracles, 
 and delivered oracles, by which he acquired great wealth and 
 power. All the arts by which this cheat was managed are 
 laid open by Lucian, and nothing can better point out the 
 difference between impofture and truth, than to obferve the 
 different conduct of this man and St. Paul. Alexander 
 made no alteration in the religion eftablifhed in Pontus be- 
 fore; he only grafted his own upon it ; and fpared no pains 
 to intereft in the fuccefs of it the whole (x] heathen prieft- 
 hood, not only in Pontus, but all over the world ; fending 
 great numbers of thofe who came to confult him to other 
 oracles, that were at that time in the higheft vogue ; by 
 which means he engaged them all tofupport the reputation 
 of his (y), and abet his impofture. He fpoke with the great- 
 eft refpect of all the feels of philof -pliers, except the Epi-' 
 cureans, who from their principles he was furc would de- 
 ride and oppofe his fraud ; for though they prefumed not to 
 innovate, and overturn eftablifhed religions, yet they very 
 freely attacked and expofed all innovations that were intro- 
 duced under the name of religion, and had not the authori- 
 ty of a legal eftablifhment (z). To get the better of their 
 .oppofition, as well as that of the Chriftians, he called in the 
 aid of perfecution and force, exciting the people againft 
 them, and anfwering objections with ftones, That he 
 m'ight be fure to get money enough, he delivered this oracle 
 
 {/) Afts v. 1 6. 26. (a) Vide the Pfeudomantis of Lucian. 
 (*} Ffeudomantis. Lucian. Varior, 765, 766. (jO Ibid. 76^-- 
 ~(z) Ibid. 762, 763, 773, 777, 762, 768, 773, 77$..
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 235 
 
 in the name of his God (a]^ I command you to grace with gifts 
 my prophet and minijier ; for I have no regard for riches myfelf, 
 but the great eft for my prophet. And he fhared the gains that 
 he..made, which were immenfe, among an infinite number of 
 aflbciates, and inftruments,whom he employed in carrying on 
 and iupporting his fraud. \Vhen any declared ihemfelves to 
 be his enemies, againft whom he durft not proceed by open 
 force, he endeavoured to gain them by blandimments, and, 
 having got them into his power, to deftroy them by fecret 
 ways (b] i; which arts he praclifed againft Lucian himfelf. 
 
 Others he kept in awe and dependence upon him, by de- 
 taining in his own hands the written queftions they had 
 propofed to his god upon ftate affairs ; and as thefe general- 
 ly came from men of the greateft power and rank, his being 
 
 1 poflefled of them was of infinite fervice to him (r), and made 
 
 j him matter of all their credit, and of no little part of their 
 
 | wealth. 
 
 He obtained the protection and friendfhip of Rutilianus(^), 
 a great Roman general, by flattering him with promifes of a 
 very long life, and exaltation to deity after his death ; and at 
 laft, having quite turned his head, enjoined him by an oracle 
 to marry his daughter, whom he pretended to have had by 
 the moon ; which command Rutilianus obeyed (*), and 
 by his alliance fecured this impoftor from any danger of pu- 
 
 ; nifhment ; the Roman governor of Bithynia and Pontus ex- 
 cufing himfelf on that account from doing juftice uponhirr, 
 
 i (f) when Lucian and feveral others offered themfelves to be 
 
 I his accufers. 
 
 He never quitted that ignorant and barbarous country, 
 which he had made choice of at firft as the fitteft to play his 
 tricks in undifcovered ; but, refiding himfelf among thofe 
 fuperftitious and credulous people, extended his fame to a 
 great diftance by the erniflaries which he employed all over 
 the world (g)^ efpecially at Rome, who did not pretend them- 
 felves to work any miracles, but only promulgated his, and 
 gave him intelligence of all that it was ufeful for him to 
 know. 
 
 Thefe were the methods by which this remarkable fraud 
 was conducted, every one of which is dire&ly oppofite to all 
 thofe ufed by St. Paul in preaching the gofpel ; and yetfuch 
 methods alone could give fuccefs to a cheat of this kind. I 
 will not mention the many debaucheries, and wicked enormi- 
 ties committed by this falfe prophet under the mafk of reli- 
 gion, 
 
 (a) Muneribus decorate meum vatem atqueminifirum praecipio 
 r.cc opum mihi cura, at maxima vatis. (b~) Ibid. 776, 780, 
 781. (c) Ibid. 767. {</) Ibid. 768. (f) Jbid. 781. (/) Ibid. 
 753- (} Ibid. 762, 769.
 
 136 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 gion, which is another characteriftical difference between him 
 and St. Paul ; nor the ambiguous anfwers, cunning evafions, 
 and juggling artifices which he made ufe of, in all which it 
 is eafy to fee the evident marks of an impofture, as well as 
 in the objects he plainly appears to have had in view. That 
 which I chiefly infift upon, is the ftrong confederacy with 
 which he took care to fupport his pretenfion to miraculous 
 powers, and the apt difpofition'in thofe he impofed upon to 
 concur and affift in deceiving themfelves ; advantages en- 
 tirely wanting to the apoftles of Chrift. 
 
 From all this I think it may be concluded, that no hu- 
 man means employed by St. Paul, in his defign of convert- 
 ing the Gentiles, were or could be adequate to the great 
 difficulties he had to contend with, or to the fuccefs that we 
 know attended his work j and we can in reafon afcribe that 
 fuccefs to no other caufe, but the power of God going along 
 with and aiding his miniftry, becaufe no other was equal to 
 the effect. 
 
 Having then (hewn that St. Paul had no rational motives to 
 become an apoftle of Chrift, without being himfelf convinc- 
 ed of the truth of that gofpel he preached, and that, had he 
 engaged in fuch an impofture without any rational motives, 
 he would have had no pojjtble means to carry it on with any 
 fuccefs ; having alfo brought reafons of a very ftrong nature, 
 to make it appear, that the fuccefs he undoubtedly had in 
 preaching the gofpel was an effect of the divine power at- 
 tending his miniftry; I might reft all my proof of the Chrif- 
 tion religion being a divine revelation upon the arguments 
 drawn from this head alone. But, toconfider this fubject in 
 all poffible lights, I fhall purfue the proportion which I fet 
 out with through each of its feveral parts * and having prov- 
 ed, as I hope, to the conviction of any impartial man, that 
 St. Paul was not an importer, who faid what he knew to be 
 falfe with an intent to deceive, I come next to confider whe- 
 ther he was an enthufiaft, who by the force of an overheat- 
 ed imagination impofed upon himfelf. 
 
 Now thefe are the ingredients of which enthufiafm is ge- 
 nerally compofed ; great heat of temper, melancholy, igno- 
 rance, credulity, and vanity or felf-conceit. That thefirft 
 of thefe qualities was in St. Paul, may be concluded from 
 that fervour of zeal with which he acted both as a Jew and 
 Chriftian,in maintaining that which he thought to be right; 
 and hence,! fuppofe, as, well as from the impoffibility of his 
 having been an importer, fome unbelievers have chofe toconfi- 
 der him as an enthufiaft. But this quality alone will not be 
 fufficient to prove him to have been fo, in the opinion of any 
 reafonable man. The fame temper has been common to 
 others, who undoubtedly were not enthufiafts, to the Grac- 
 chi, to Cato, to Brutus, to many more among the beft and 
 
 wifeft
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 237 
 
 wifeft of men. Nor does it appear that this difpofition had 
 fuch a maftery over the mind of St. Paul, that he was not 
 able at all times to rule and controul it by the dictates of rea- 
 fon. On the contrary he was fo much the mafter of it, as, 
 in matters of an indifferent nature, to become all things to all 
 men (/>), beihling his notions and manners to theirs, ib far as 
 his duty to God would permit, with the moft pliant conde- 
 'fcenfion ; a conduct neither compatible with the ftiffnefs of a 
 bigot, nor the violent impulfes of fanatic delufions. His 
 zeal was eager and warm, but tempered with prudence, and 
 even with the civilities and decorums of life, as appears by 
 his behaviour to Agrippa, Feftus, and Felix ; not the blind, 
 jinconfiderate, indecent zeal of an enthufiaft. 
 
 Let us now fee if any one of thofe other qualities which I 
 have laid down, as difpofing the mind to enthuftafm, and as 
 feeing characteriftical of it, belong to St. Paul. Firft, as to 
 pielancholy (z), which of all difpofitions of body or mind is 
 molt prone to enthufiafm, it neither appears by his writings, 
 nor by any thing told of him in the Acts of the Apoftles, 
 ;nor by any other evidence, that St. Paul was inclined to it 
 more than other men. Though he was full of remorfe for 
 'his former ignorant perfecution of the church of Chrift, we 
 read of no gloomy penances, no extravagant mortifications, 
 fuch as the Bramins, the Jaugues, the monks of La Trappe, 
 and other melancholy enthufiafts, inflict on themfelves. His 
 holinefs only confifted in the fimplicity of a good life, and 
 the unwearied performance of thofe apoftolical duties to which 
 he was called. The fufferings he met with on that account 
 he chearfully bore, and even rejoiced in them for the lowg of 
 Chrift Jefus,buthebroughtnoneon himfelf; we find, orfthe 
 contrary, that he pleaded the privilege of a Roman citizen, 
 to avoid being whipped. I could mention more instances of 
 nis having ufed the beft methods that prudence could fuggeft, 
 to efcape danger, and (hun perfecution,whenever it could be 
 done without betraying the duty of his office, or the ho- 
 nour of God (k). 
 
 Compare 
 
 (h] i Cor. ix. 20, 21 , 22. (OJofephus con. Apion. 1. ii. c. 37. 
 (k) A remarkable inftance of this appears in his conduct among 
 :he Athenians *. There was at Athens a law, which made it 
 :apital to introduce or teach any new gods in their ftate. There- 
 "ore when Paul was preaching Jefus and the Refurreflion to the 
 Athenians, fome of them carried him before the court of Areo- 
 oagus, the ordinary judges of criminal matters, and in a parti- 
 cular manner entrufted with the care of religion, as having bro- 
 cen this law, and being a fetter forth. of Jlrange gods. Now in 
 his cafe an impoftor would have retracted his doftrine to fave 
 iis life, and an enthufiaft would have loft his life without trying 
 o fave it by innocent means. St. Paul did neither the one nor 
 
 the 
 Al xvii. & Jofephus coat, Apion. I. H. c t 37,
 
 ^OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 Compare with this the conduit of Francis of Afllfi, of Ig- 
 natius Loyola, and other enthufiafts fainted by Rome, it will 
 be found the reverfe of St. Paul's. * He wijbed indeed to die y \ 
 ' and be with Ghrijl :' but fuch a wifh is no proof of melan- j 
 choly, or of enthufiafm ; it only proves his conviction of the ! 
 divine truths he preached, and of the happinefs laid up for 
 him in thofe blefled abodes, which had been {hewn to him j 
 even in this life. Upon the whole, neither in his actions, nor ! 
 in the inftrutions he gave to thofe under their charge, is i 
 there any tincture of melancholy, which yet is fo eflential a 
 chara&eriftick of enthufiafm, that I have fcarce ever heard 
 of any enthufiaft, ancient or modern, in whom fome very 
 evident marks of it did not appear. 
 
 As to ignorance, which is another ground of enthufiafm, 
 St. Paul was fo far from it, that he appears to have been 
 mafter not of the Jewiih learning alone, but of the Greek. 
 And this is one reafon why he is lefs liable to the imputation 
 of having been an enthufiaft than the other apoftles, though 
 none of them were fuch any more than he, as may by other 
 arguments be invincibly proved. 
 
 I have mentioned credulity as another characteriftick and 
 caufe of enthufiafm, which that it was not in St. Paul the 
 hiftory of his life undeniably (hews. For, on the contrary, 
 he feems to have been flow and hard of belief in the extremeit 
 degree, having paid no regard to all the miracles done by our 
 Saviour, the fame of which he could not be a ftranger to, as 
 he lived in Jerufalem, nor to that fignal one done after his 
 refurre&ion, and in his name, by Peter and John (/), upon 
 the lame man at the beautiful gate of the temple ; nor to the 
 evidence given in confequence of it by Peter, in prefence 
 of the high-prieft, the rulers, elders, and fcribes, thatChrift 
 was raifedfrom the dead (?n). Hemuft alfo have known, that 
 when all the apojiles had beenjbut up in the common prifon, and 
 the high-prieft ) the council^ and all the fenate of the children of 
 Ifrael hadfent their officers to bring them before them, the officers 
 came and found them not in prifon^ but returned and made this 
 
 report : j 
 
 the other ; he availed himfelf of an altar which he had found in \ 
 the city, infcribed To the unknown God, and pleaded that he ciid ' 
 not propofe to them the worihip of any new God, but only ex- ' 
 plained to them one whom their government had already receiv- j 
 ed ; Whom therefore ye ignorantly <wor/bi/>, him declare I unto you. \ 
 By this he avoided the law, and efcaped being condemned by the 
 Areopagus, without departing in the leaft from the truth of the 
 gofpel, or violating the honour of God. An admirable proof, in < 
 my opinion, of the good fe'nfe with which he afted, and one that 
 fhews there was no mixture of fanaticifm in his religion. 
 (/) A&s iii. (m) Ats v, 18, ai., 22, 23, 25, 27, 29, 30, 31 , 32.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 report : * *Theprifon truly found We Jhut with all fafety^ and the 
 
 * keepers Jianding without before the doors, but when we had 
 
 * opened we found no man within.' And that the council was 
 immediately told, that the men they had put in prifon were Jiand- 
 ing in the temple , and teaching the people. And that being 
 brought from thence before the council, they had fpoke thefe 
 memorable words, We ought to obey God rather than men. 
 The god of our fathers raifedup Jefus, whom ye Jlew and hanged 
 on a tree. Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a 
 
 (s) All this he relifted, and was con Tenting to the murder of 
 Stephen, who preached the fame thing, and evidenced it by 
 miracles. So that his mind, far from being difpofed to a cre- 
 dulous faith, or a too eafy reception of any miracle worked in 
 proof of the chriftian religion, appears to have been barred 
 againft it by the mod obitinate prejudices, as much as any 
 man's could poflibly be j and from hence we may fairly con- 
 clude, that nothing lefs than the irrefiftible evidence of his 
 own fenfes t clear from all poflibility of doubt, could have 
 overcome his unbelief. 
 
 Vanity or felf-conceit is another circumftance that for the 
 moft part prevails in the character of an enthufiaft. It leads 
 men of a warm temper and religious turn, to think themfelves 
 worthy of the fpecial regard, and extraordinary favours of 
 
 ! God ; and the breath of that infpiration to which they pre- 
 tend, is often no more than the wind of this vanity, which 
 puffs them up to fuch extravagant imaginations. This ftrong- 
 ly appears in the writings and lives of fomeenthufiaftical he- 
 reticks in the myfticks both ancient and modern, in many 
 founders of orders and faints both male and female amongft 
 the papifts, in feveral proteftant fectaries of the laft age, and 
 
 'even in fome of the Methodi/is now (/). All the divine com- 
 
 'munications, illuminations, andextafies, to which they have 
 pretended, evidently fprung from much felf-conceit, working 
 
 'together with the vapours of melancholy upon a warm ima- 
 gination ; and this is one reafon, befides the contagious nature 
 of melancholy, or fear, that makes enthufiafm fo very catch- 
 ing among weak minds. Such are moft ftrongly difpofed to 
 vanity} and, when they fee others pretend to extraordinary 
 
 gifts, 
 
 (s) Ats viii. i. (t) See the account of Monranus and his. 
 followers, the writings of the counterfeit Dionyfius the Areopa- 
 gite, Santa Therefa, St. Catharine of Sienna, Madame Bourie- 
 ;non, the lives of St. Francis of Afiifi, and Ignatius Loyola ; fee 
 alfo an account of the lives of George Fox, and of Rice Evans, 
 s&nd Whitefield's Journal.
 
 * 
 
 240 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 gifts, are apt to flatter themfelves that they may partake of 
 them as well as thofe whofe merit they think no more than 
 their own. Vanity therefore may juftly be deemed a prin- 
 cipal fburce of enthuflafm. Hut that St. Paul was as free from 
 it as any man, I think may be gathered from all that we fee 
 in his writings, or know of his life. Throughout his epiftles 
 there is not one wprd that favours of vanity, nor is any action 
 recorded of him, in which the leaft mark of it appears. 
 
 In his epiftle to the Ephefians(/>), he calls himfelf left than 
 the leaft of all faints (q). And to the Corinthians he fays, he 
 h the leajl of the apojlles, and not meet to be called an apojfle^ be- 
 caufc he had perfecuted the church of God. In his epiftle to Ti- 
 mothy, he fays, 6 This is a faithful faying, and worthy of 
 all acceptation, That Chrift Jefus came into the world to 
 fave finners, of whom lam chief (r). Howbeit for thiscaufe 
 I obtained mercy, that in me tirft Jefus Chrift might (hew 
 forth all long frittering, for a pattern to them which fhould 
 hereafter believe in him to life everlafting.' 
 It is true indeed, that in another epiftle he tells the Corin- 
 thians, That he was not a whit behind the very chiefejl of the 
 apojlles^ 2 Cor. xi. 5. But the occafion which drew from him 
 thefe words muft be confidered. A falfe teacher by faction ' 
 and calumny had brought his apoftlejfhip to be in queftion j 
 among the Corinthians. Againft fuch an attack not to have i 
 aflerted his apoftolical dignity would have been a betraying \ 
 of the office and duty committed to him by God. He was 
 therefore conftrained to do himfelf juftice, and not let down 
 that character, upon the authority of which the whole fuccefs 
 and efficacy of his miniftry among them depended. But how . 
 did he do it? not with that wantonnefs which a vain man 
 indulges, when he can get any opportunity of commending 
 himfelf ; not with a pompous detail of all the amazing mi- ; 
 racles which he had performed in different parts of the world, 
 though he had fo fair an occafion of doing it, but with a 
 modeft and fimple expofition of his abundant labours and 
 fufterings in preaching the gofpel, and barely reminding 
 them fj), * that the ngns of an apoftle had been wrought 
 ' among them in all patience, in figns, and wonders, and 
 * mighty deeds.' Could he fay lefs than this ? is not fuch 
 boafting humility itfelf? And yet for this he makes many 
 apologies, expreffing the greateft uneafinefs in being obliged 
 to fpeak thus of himfelf, even in his own vindication (/). 
 When, in the fame epiftle, and for the fame purpofe, he 
 mentions the vifion he had of heaven, how modeftly does he 
 
 do 
 
 (/) Eph. ii''. 8. (,/) i Cor. xv. 9. (r) i Tim. [.15, 16 
 (s) C.r. xii. 12. (t) 2 Cor. xi. i. 16, 16, 17, 18, 19, 30-
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 241 
 
 do it (a) ! not in his own name, but in the third perfon, / 
 knew a man in Chrijl, &c. caught up into the third Heaven. And 
 immediately after he adds (b), but now 1 'forbear, left any man 
 /hould think of me above that which he feet h me to be, or tftat he 
 heareth of me. How contrary is this to a fpirit of vanity! 
 how different from the practice of enthufiaftick pretenders 
 to raptures and vifions, who never think they can dwell 
 long enough upon thofe fubjefts, but fill whole volumes 
 with their accounts of them ! Yet St. Paul is not fatisfied 
 with this forbearance ; he adds the confeffion of feme ;'- 
 firtnity, which he tells the Corinthians was given to him as 
 an alloy (c] that he might not be above meafure exalted through 
 the abundance of his revelations. I would alfo obferve, that 
 he fays this rapture, or vifion of paradife, happened to him 
 above fourteen years before : Now, had it been the effecl: of 
 a meer enthufiaftical fancy, can it be fuppofed that in fo 
 long a period of time, he would not have had many more 
 raptures of the fame kind ? would not his imagination have 
 been perpetually carrying him to Heaven, as we find 
 St. Therefa, St. Bridget, and St. Catherine were carried 
 by theirs (d) ? and if vanity had been predominant in him, 
 would he have remained fourteen years in abfolute lilence 
 upon fo great a mark of the divine favour ? No, we {hould 
 certainly have feen his epiftles filled with nothing elfe but 
 long accounts of thefe vifions, conferences with angels, 
 with Chrift, with God Almighty, myftical unions with 
 God, and all that we read in the works of thofe fainted en- 
 thufiafts, whom I have mentioned before (e}. But he only* 
 mentions this vifion in anfwer to the falfe teacher who had 
 difputed his apoftolical power, and comprehends it all in 
 three fentences, with many excufes for being compelled to 
 make any mention of it at all. Nor does he take any merit to 
 himfe.f, even from the fuccefs of thofe apoftolical labours 
 Vhich he principally boafts of in this epiftle. For in a former 
 ;ne to the fame church he writes thus, c Who then is Paul, 
 and who is Apollos, but minifters by whom ye believed, even 
 ; as the Lord gave to every man ? I have planted, Apollos 
 i watered, but God gave the increafe. So then neither is 
 he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth, but 
 God that giveth the increafe.* And in another place of 
 he fame epiftle he fays (f} y ' By the grace of God I am 
 what I am, and his grace which was beftowed upon me 
 was not in vain; but I laboured more abundantly than 
 R * they 
 
 (a} 2 Cor. xii. 2. (H) 2 Cor. xii. 6. (r) a Cor. xii. 7. 
 d] See their Works and Lives. (e) z Cor. xii. i, a, 3, 4, $ t 
 I - ( Cor - *v- 10.
 
 242 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CON VERSION 
 
 ' they all : yet not /, but the grace of God which was with 
 ' me.' 
 
 I think it needlefs to give more inftances of the modefty 
 of St. Paul. Certain 1 am, not one can be given that 
 bears any colour of vanity, or that vanity in particular 
 which fo ftrongly appears in all enthufiafts, of fetting their 
 imaginary gifts above thofe virtues which make the eflence 
 of true religion, and the real excellency of a good man, 
 or, in the fcripture phrafe, of a. faint. In his hrft epiftle 
 tc the Corinthians he has thefe words (j-), ' Though I 
 fpeak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have 
 not charity, I am become as founding brafs, or a tinkling 
 cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and 
 underftand all myfteries and all knowledge, and though I ' 
 have all faith fo that I could remove mountains, and have ' 
 no charity, 1 am nothing. And though I beftow all my ; 
 goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be \ 
 burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.' 
 Is this the language of enthufiafm ? did ever enthufiaft pre- 
 fer that univerlal benevolence which comprehends all moral 
 virtues, and which (as appears by the following verfes) is 
 meant by charity here ; did ever enthufiaft, I fay, prefer 
 that benevolence to faith and to miracles, to thofe religious! 
 opinions which he had embraced, and to thofe fupernatural 
 graces and gifts which he imagined he had acquired, nay 
 even to the merit of martyrdom ? Is it not the genius of 
 enthufiafm to fet moral virtues infinitely below the merit 
 of faith, and of all moral virtues to value that leaft which 
 is moft particularly enforced by St. Paul, a fpirit of can-| 
 dour, moderation, and peace ? Certainly neither the temper, 
 nor the opinions of a man fubject to fanatick delufions, are 
 to be found in this paflage ; but it may be juftly concluded, 
 that he who could efteem the value of charity fo much 
 above miraculous gifts, could not have pretended to any 
 fuch gifts if he had them not in reality. 
 
 Since then it is manifeft from the foregoing examination, 
 that in St. Paul's difpofition and character thofe qualities do 
 not occur which feem to be neceflary to form an enthufiaft, 
 it muft be reafonable to conclude he was none. But 
 allowing, for argument's fake, that all thofe qualities were 
 to be found in him, or that the heat of his temper alone 
 could be a fufficient foundation to fupport fuch a fufpicion ; 
 I ihall endeavour to prove, that he could not have impofed 
 on hirnfelf by any power of enthufiafm, either in regard to 
 
 the 
 
 (g) i Ccr. xiii. 2, 3, 4,"
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 243 
 
 the miracle that caufed his conver/ion, or to the confequen- 
 tial effects of it, or to fome other circumftances which he 
 bears teftimony to in his epiftles. 
 
 The power of imagination in enthufiaftical minds is no 
 doubt very ftron^, but it always acts in conformity to the 
 opinions imprinted upon it at the time of its working, and 
 can no more act againft them, than a rapid river can carry 
 a boat againft the current of its own ftream. Now nothing 
 can be more certain, than that when Saul fet out for Damaf- 
 cus with an authority from the chief-priefts to bring the Chrif- 
 tians which were here, bound to Jerufalem, * an authority fo-> 
 jlicited by himfelf, and granted to him at his own earneft 
 jdefire, his mind was ftrongly pofieft with opinions againft 
 Chrift and his followers. To give thofe opinions a more ac- 
 tive force, his paflions at that time concurred, being inflamed 
 in the higheft degree by the irritating confcioufnefs of his 
 paft conduct towards them,' the pride of fupporting a part 
 tie had voluntarily engaged in, and the credit he found it 
 procured him among the chief priefts and rulers, whofe com- 
 miflion he bore. 
 
 If, in fuch a ftate and temper of mind, an enthufiaftical 
 man had imagined he faw a vifion from Heaven denouncing 
 the anger of God againft the Chriftians, and commanding; 
 him to perfecute them without any mercy, it might be ac- 
 counted for by the natural power of enthufiafm. But that, 
 Jin the very inftant of his being engaged in the fierceft and 
 hotteft perfecution againft them, no circumftance having 
 [fiappened to change his opinions, or alter the bent of his 
 iifpofition, he fhould at once imagine himfelf called by a 
 lieavenly vifion to be the apoftle of Chrift, whom but a 
 foment before he deemed an impoftor and a blafphemer, that 
 iiad been juftly put to death on the crofs, is in itfelf wholly 
 ncredible, and fo far from being a probable effect of enthu* 
 iafm, that juft a contrary effect muft have been naturally 
 roduced by that caufe. The warmth of his temper carried 
 .iim violently another way : and whatever delufions his ima- 
 gination could raife to impofe on his reafon, muft have been 
 ,aifed at that time agreeably to the notions imprinted upon 
 it, and by which it was heated to a degree of enthufiafm, not 
 r i direct contradiction to all thofe notions, while they re- 
 lained in their full force. 
 
 This is fo clear a propofition, that I might reft the whole 
 rgurnent entirely upon it: but ftill farther to fhew that this 
 ^fion could not be a phantom of St. Paul's own creating, I 
 eg leave to obferve, that he was not alone when he faw it : 
 icre were many others in company, whofe minds were no 
 R a better 
 
 * AU ix. a.
 
 244 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 bett.-r difpofed than his to the Chriftian faith. Could it be 
 poflibie that die imaginations of all thefc men fhould at the 
 fame time be ib (trangely affected, as to make them believe 
 tha- they faw a g^eat light jbining about them^ above the bright- 
 nef's cf the fun at noon-day (tf), and heard the found of a 
 voice f; n Heaven^ though not the words "which it (pake, 
 when in :.ality they neither law, nor heard any fuch thing?" 
 couid they be 10 infatuated with this conceit of their fancy, 
 (b) as tojfo// downfrjm thtir borfes together with Saul, and 
 be jpee:hlefs ttr.,\gi> fear^ when nothing had happened extra- 
 ordinary either to them or tp nim ; efpecially confidering 
 thut this apparition did not happen in the night, when the 
 fenfes are more eafily 'mpofed upon, but at mid-day? If a ' 
 fudden funzy had feized upon Saul, from any diltemper of ' 
 body or mind, can we fuppofe his whole company, men of 
 different conftitutions and underftandmgs, to have been at 
 once affected in the fame manner with him, fo that not the 
 diftem per alone, but the effects of it mould exactly agree? If 
 all had gone mad together, would not the frenzy of fome have 
 taken a different turn, and prefented to them different ob- 
 jects ? This fuppofition is fo contrary to nature and all pof- 
 flbility, that unbelief muft find fome other folution, or give 
 up the point. 
 
 I (hall fuppofe then, in order to try to account for this , 
 vifion without a miracle, that as Saul and his company 
 \verejourneying along in their way to Damafcus, an extra- 
 ordinary metecr did really happen, which caft a great light, 
 as fome meteors will do, at which they being affrighted fell 
 to the ground in the manner related. This might be pofli- \ 
 ble ; and fear, grounded on ignorance of fuch phenomena, . 
 might make them imagine it to be a vifion from God. Nay 
 even the voice or found they heard in the air, might be an , 
 explofion attending this meteor, or at leaft there are thofe 
 who would rather recur to fuch a fuppofition as this, how- \ 
 Cver incredible, than acknowledge the miracle. But how 
 will this account for the diftincl words heard by St. Paul, 
 to which he made anfwer ? how will it account for what 
 followed upon it when he came to Damafcus, agreeably to 
 the fenfe of thofe words which he heard ? how came Ana- 
 nias to go to him there, and fay, ' He was chofen by God 
 * to know his will (c), and fee that Juft One, and hear the 
 c voice of his mouth ?' or why did he propofe to him to be 
 baptized (d)? what connexion was there between the meteor 
 
 which 
 
 (a) Ads ix. 3. xxii. 9. (1) Als xxvi. 14. ix. -j.-(c) Arts 
 xxii. \.(d) Ver. 16..
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 245 
 
 which Saul had feen, and thefe words of Ananias ? will it 
 be faid that Ananias was fkilful enough to take advnntaLe of 
 the fright he was in at that appearance, in order to make 
 him a Chriftian ? But could Ananias infpire him with a 
 vifion in which he faw him before ht j came (e] ? if that vi- 
 flon was the effect of imagination, how v/as it verified fo ex- 
 actly in faft ? But allowing that he dreamt by chance of 
 Ananias's coming, and that Ananias came by chance too ; 
 or, if you pleafe, that, having heart! of his dream, he came 
 to take advantage of that, as well as of the meteor which 
 Saul had feen, will this get over the difficulty ? No, there 
 was more to be done. Saul was ftruck blind, and had been 
 fo for three days. Now had this blindnefs been nature! from 
 the effe&s of a metec,r or lightning upon him, it would not 
 have been poflible for Ananias to heal it, as we find that he 
 did, meerl-y by putting his hands on him and Ipea Icing a 
 few words. This undoubtedly furpaffed the power of 
 nature ; and if this was a miracle, it proves the other to 
 have been a miracle too, and a mi r acle done by the fame 
 Jefus Chrift. For Ananias, when he healed Saul, Ipoke 
 to him thus (f) ; Broiler Saul, the Lord, even Jefus that appear- 
 ed unto thee in the way that thou cameft^ hasjt'nt me, that thou 
 mightejl receive thy fight , and be filled with the Holy Gkoft (g). 
 And that he faw Chrift both now and after this time, ap- 
 pears not only by whathe relates, Acts xxii. 17, 18, but by 
 other paflages in his epiftles, i Cor. ix. i. xvi. 8. Fro.m 
 him (as he afFerts in many places of his epiftles) he learned 
 the gofpel by immediate revelation, and by him he was lent 
 to the Gentiles, Acts xxii. 31. xxiii. u. Among thofe 
 Gentiles from Jerusalem, and round about to Illyricum (/>), he 
 (preached the gofpel of Chrift with mighty Jigns and wonders 
 ^wrought by th* power of the fptrit of GW, to make them obedi- 
 ent to his preaching, as he teftifies himfelf in his epiftle to the 
 Romans, and of which a particular account is given to us 
 in the Acls of the Apoftles ; figns and wonders indeed, 
 above any power of nature to work, or of impofture to 
 .counterfeit, or of enthufiafm to imagine. Now does not 
 Tuch a feries of miraculous ats, all confequential to and 
 'dependent upon the firft revelation, put the truth of that 
 revelation beyond all poflibility of doubt or deceit? and if 
 : he could fo have impofed on himfelf as to think that he 
 worked them when he did not (which fuppofition cannot be 
 'admitted, if he was not all that time quite out of his f- n- 
 
 (e) Als ix. f/; Ads ix. 17, 1 8. xxii. 13. (g) Ads ix. 17. 
 (A) Rom. xv. 19. 
 
 .-:";xx<$A I' / \ : \ ''
 
 246 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 fes), how could fo dlftemper 1 d an enthufiaft make fuch a pro- 
 grefs, as we know that he did, in converting the Gen- 
 tile world ? If the difficulties which have been fhewn to 
 have obftrucled that work were fuch as the ableft impoftor 
 could not overcome, how much more infurmountable were 
 they to a madman ! 
 
 It is a much harder talk for unbelievers to account for the 
 fuccefs of St. Paul, in preaching the gofpel, upon the fup- 
 pofition of his having been an enthufiaft, than of his having 
 been an impoftor. Neither of thefe fuppofitions can ever 
 account for it ; but the impoflibility is more glaringly ftrong 
 in this cafe than the other. I could enter into a particular 
 examination of all the miracles recorded in the ats to have 
 been done by St. Paul, and fhew that they were not of a 
 nature in which enthufiafm, either in him, or the perfons 
 he worked them upon, or the fpectators, could have any 
 part. I will mention only a few. When he told Elymas 
 the forcerer, at Paphos, before the Roman duputy (i), that 
 the hand of God was upon him, and he fhould be blind^ not feeing 
 (he fun for a feafon ; and immediately there fell on him a mijl 
 and a darknefs^ and he went about feeking fame to lead him by 
 the hand ; had enthufiafm in the doer or fufferer any ihare 
 in this ait? if Paul, as an enthufiaft, had thrown out this 
 menace, and the effect had not followed, inftead of con- 
 verting the deputy, as we are told that he did, he would 
 have drawn on himfelf his rage and contempt. But the 
 effect upon Elymas could not be caufed by enthufiafm in 
 Paul ; much lefs can it be imputed to an enthufiaftick be- 
 lief in that perfon himfelf, of his being ftruck blind, when 
 he was not, by thofe words of a man whofe preaching he 
 ftrenuoufly and bitterly oppofed. Nor can we afcribe the 
 converfion of Sergius, which happened upon it, to any en- 
 thufiafm. A Roman proconful was not very likely to be 
 an enthufiaft j but had he been one, he muft have been bi- 
 goted to his own gods, and fo much the lefs inclined to 
 believe any miraculous power in St. Paul. When at Troas, 
 a young man named Eutychus fell down from a high window^ 
 while Paul was preaching, and was taken up dead(k}. Could 
 any enthufiafm, either in Paul or the congregation there 
 prefent, make them believe, that by that apoftle's falling 
 upon him and embracing him, he was reftored to life ? or 
 could he who was fo reftored contribute any thing to it 
 himfelf, by any power of his own imagination ? When, in 
 the ifle ofMelita, where St. Paul was fhipwrecked (/), there 
 came a viper and fajlened on his hand^ which he Jhook off, and 
 felt no harniy was that an effect of enthufiafm ? An en- 
 thufiaft 
 
 "(0 Aftsxiii. (k) Aasxx. 9. (I) Aftsxxvii.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 247 
 
 thufiaft might perhaps have been mad enough to hope for 
 fafcty againft the bite of a viper without any remedy being 
 applied to it : but would that hope have prevented his 
 death ? or were the barbarous iflanders, to whom this apoftle 
 was an abfolute ftranger, prepared by enthufiaim to expert 
 and believe that any miracle would be worked to preferve 
 him ? On the contrary, when they faw the viper hang on 
 his hand, they faid among themfelves, ' No doubt this man 
 ; is a murderer, whom, though he hath efcaped the fea, 
 ; yet vengeance fuffereth not to live.' I will add no more 
 nftances : thefe are fufficient to (hew that the miracles told 
 af St. Paul, can no more be afcribed to enthufiai'm than to 
 impofture. 
 
 But moreover the power of working miracles was not 
 ronfined to St. Paul ; it was alfo communicated to the 
 :hurches he planted in different parts of the world. In 
 nany parts of his firft epiftle he tells the Corinthians (m) t 
 hat they had among them many miraculous graces and 
 ;ifts, and gives them directions for the more orderly ufe of 
 hem in their afiemblies. Now I afk, wnether all that he 
 aid upon that head is to be afcribed to enthufiafm ? If the 
 Corinthians knew that they had among them no fuch mi- 
 aculous powers, they muft have regarded the author of 
 hat epiftle as a man out of his fenfes, inftead of revering 
 lim as an apoftle of God. 
 
 If, for inftance, a* Quaker fliould, in a meeting of his 
 wn feel, tell all the perfons affembled there, that ' to 
 ime among them was given the gift of healing by the fplrlt of 
 :/<%/, to others the working of other miracles^ to others diverje 
 \inds of tongues ;' they would undoubtedly account him a 
 madman, becaufe they pretend to no fuch gifts. If indeed 
 ;hey were only told by him that they were infpired by the 
 pirit of god in a certain ineffable manner, which they 
 jlone could underftand, but which did not difcover itfelf 
 iy any outward, diftinct operations, or figns, they might 
 hiftake the impulfs of enthufiafm for the infpiration of the 
 loly Ghoft ; but they could not believe, ' again/I the con- 
 lEllon of their own minds J that they fpoke tongues they 
 id not fpeak, or healed diftempers they did not heal, or 
 /orked other miracles, when they worked none. If it be 
 lid, the Corinthians might pretend to thefe powers, though 
 ie Quakers do not; I afk, whether in that pretenfion they 
 < T ere impofiors, or only enthufiafts ? If they were impoltorsy 
 nd St. Paul was alfo fuch, how ridiculous was it for him 
 
 to 
 
 (m) i Cor. xii. 4, 5.
 
 248 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 to advife them, in an epiftle writ only to them, and for their 
 own ufe, not to value themfelves too highly upon thofe gifts ; 
 to pray for one rather than another, and prefer charity to 
 them all ! do affociates in fraud talk fuch a language to one 
 another ? But if we fuppofe their pretenfion to all thofe gifts 
 was an effect of enthufiafm, let us confider how it was pof- 
 fible that he and they could be fo cheated by that enthufialm, 
 as to imagine they had fuch powers when they had not. 
 
 Suppofe that enthufiafm could make a man think, that he 
 was able by a word or a touch to give figtit to the blind, mo- 
 tion to the lame, or life to the dead : would that conceit of 
 his make the blind fee, the lame walk, or the dead revive: 
 and if it did not, how could he perfift in fuch an opinion, or. 
 upon his perfifting efcape being fhut up for a madman ? But 
 fuch a madnefs could not infecl fo many at once, as St. Paul 
 fuppofes at Corinth to have bean endowed with the gift of 
 healing, er any other miraculous powers. One of the mira- 
 tier which they pretended to was the fpeaking of languages 
 they never had learned. And St. Paul fays, * he poflefled 
 this gift more than them all. Jf this had been a delufion of fan- 
 cy, if they had fpoke only gibberifh, or unmeaning founds, 
 it would foon have appeared when they came to m ike ufe of 
 it where it was neceflary, viz. in converting thofe who un- 
 derftood not any language they naturally fpoke. St. Paul 
 particularly, who travelled fo far upon that defign, and had 
 fuch occafion to ufe it, muft foon have difcovered that this 
 imaginary gift of the fpirit was no gift at all, but a ridiculous 
 inftance vi frenzy, which had poffeiTed both him and them. 
 But if thofe he fpoke to in diverfe tongues underftood what he 
 faid, and were converted to Chrift by that means, how could 
 it be a delufion ? Of all the miracles recorded in fcripture, 
 none are more clear from any poffible imputaiion of being the 
 effect of an enthufiaftick imagination than this. For how 
 could any man think that he had it, who had it not ; or if 
 he did think fo, not be undeceived, when he came to put his 
 gift to the proof ? Accordingly I do not find fuch a power to 
 have been ever pretended to by any enthufiaft, ancient or mo-? 
 dern. 
 
 If then St. Paul and the, church of Corinth were not de- 
 ceived in afcribing to themfelves this miraculous power, but 
 really^had it, there is the ftrongeft reafon to think, that neither 
 
 were 
 
 * i Cor. xiy. 18.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 249 
 
 were they deceived in the other powers to which they preten- 
 ded, as the fame fpirit which gave them that, equally could, 
 and probably would, give them the others, to ferve the fame 
 holy ends for which that was given. And by confequence St. 
 Paul was no enthufiaft in what he wrote upon that head to the 
 Corinthians, nor in other fimilar inftances, where he afcribes 
 to himfelf, or to the churches he founded, any fupernatural 
 graces and gifts. Indeed they who would impute to imagin- 
 ation effe&s fuch as thofe St. Paul imputes to the power of 
 God attending his miflion, muft afcribe to imagination the 
 fame omnipotence which he afcribes to God. 
 
 Having thus, I flatter myfelf, fatisfa&orily fhewn that St. 
 Paul could not be an enthufiaft, who, by the force of an over- 
 heated imagination, impofed on himfelf; I am next to en- 
 i quire whether he was deceived by the fraud of others, and 
 ; whether all that he faid of himfelf can be imputed to the 
 i power of that deceit ? But I need fay little to (hew the abfur- 
 i dity of this fuppofition. It was morally impoflible for the 
 difciples of Chrift, to conceive fuch a thought as that of turn- 
 ing his perfecutor into his apoftle, and to do this by a fraud 
 in the very inftant of his greateft fury againft them and their 
 Lord. But could they have been fo extravagant as to conceive 
 fuch a thought, it was phyftcally impoflibly for them to ex- 
 .ecute it in a manner we find his converfion to have been ef- 
 >feted. Could they produce a light in the air which at mid- 
 jday was brighter than that of the fun ? could they make Saul 
 hear words from out of that light which were not heard by 
 the reft of the company ? * could they make him blind for 
 .three days after that vifion, and then make fcales fall from off 
 | his eyes, and reftore him to his fight by a word? Beyond 
 difpute, no fraud could do thefe things ; but much lefs ftill 
 .could the fraud of others produce thofe miracles fubfequent to 
 ;his converfion, in which he was not paflive, butattve, which 
 -he did himfelf, and appeals to in his epiftles as proofs of his di- 
 vine miflion. I fhall then take it for granted that he was not 
 deceived by the fraud of others, and that what he faid of him- 
 felf cannot be imputed to the power of that deceit, no more 
 than to wilful impofture, or to enthufiafm ; and then it fol- 
 .lows, that what he related to have been the caufe of his con- 
 verfion, and to have happened in confequence of it, did all 
 really happen, and therefore the Chrijlian religion is a divine 
 revelation. 
 
 That 
 * Afts xxii, 9. 

 
 250 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 That that conclufion is fairly and undeniably glrawn from 
 the premifes, I think muft be owned, unlefs fome probable 
 caufe can be afligned, to account for thofe fa&s fo authenti- 
 cally related in the A&s of -the Apoftles, and attefted in his 
 Epiftles by St. Paul himfelf, other than any of thofe which I 
 have confidered ; and this I am confident cannot be done. It 
 muft be therefore accounted for by the power of God. That 
 God mould work miracles for the eftablifhment of a mod 
 holy religion, which, from the infuperable difficulties that 
 flood in the way of it, could not have eftablifhed ufelf with- 
 out fuch an afliftance, is no way repugnant to human reafon : 
 but that without any miracle fuch things fhould have happen- 
 ed as no adequate natural caufes can be afligned for, is what 
 human reafon cannot believe. 
 
 To impute them to magick, or the power of daemons 
 (which was the refource of the Heathens and Jews againft 
 the notoriety of the miracles performed by Chrift and his 
 difciples,) is by no means agreeable to the notions of thofe 
 who in this age difbelieve Chriftianity. It will therefore be 
 needlefs to fhew the weaknefs of that fuppofition : but that 
 fuppofition itfelf is no inconfiderable argument of the truth 
 of the fads. Next to the apoftles and evangelifts, the 
 ftrongeft witneffes of the undeniable force of that truth are 
 Celfus and Julian, and other ancient opponents of the 
 Chriftian religion, who were obliged to folve what they 
 could not contradict, by fuch an irrational and abfurd ima- 
 gination. 
 
 The difpute was not then between faith and reafon, but 
 between religion and fuperftition. Superftition afcribtd to 
 cabaliftical names, or magical fecrets, fuch operations as car- 
 ried along with them evident marks of the divine power: re- 
 ligion afcribed them to God, and reafon decl. red itfelf on that 
 fide of the queftion. Upon what grounds then can we now 
 overturn that decifion? upon what grounds can we reject the 
 unqueftionable teftimony given by St. Paul, that he was cal- 
 led by God to be a difciple and apoftle of Chrift ? It has 
 been fhewn that we cannot impute it either to enthufiafm or 
 fraud ; how fhall we then refill the conviction of fuch a 
 proof? does the doctrine he preached contain any precepts 
 againft the law of morality, that natural law written by God 
 in the hearts of mankind ? If it did, I confefs that none of 
 the arguments I have made ufe of could prove fuch a doc- 
 trine to come from htm. But this is fo far from being the 
 cafe, that even thofe who reject Chriftianity as a divine re- 
 velation,
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 251 
 
 velation, acknowledge the morals delivered by Chrift and by 
 his apoftles to be worthy of God. Is it then on account of 
 the myfteries in the gofpel that the fads are denied, though 
 fupported by evidence which in all other cafes would be al- 
 lowed to contain the cleared conviction, and cannot in this 
 be rejected without reducing the mind to a ftate of abfolute 
 fcepticifm, and overturning thofe rules by which we judge of 
 all evidence, and of the truth or credibility of all other facts ? 
 But this is plainly to give up the ufe of our underflanding 
 where we are able to ufe it moft properly, in order to apply 
 it to things of which it is not. a competent judge. The mo- 
 i lives and reafons upon which divine wifdom may think pro- 
 sper to act, as well as the manner in which it acts, muft ot- 
 jten lie out of the reach of our undemanding; but the mo- 
 jtives and reafons of human actions, and the manner in which 
 they are performed, are all in the fphere of human know- 
 ledge, and upon them we may judge, with a well grounded 
 confidence, when they are fairly propofed to our confidera- 
 .kicm. 
 
 j It is incomparably more probable that a revelation 
 
 from God concerning the ways of his providence, 
 
 fhould contain in it matters above the capacity of our 
 
 ninds to comprehend, than that St. Paul, or indeed 
 
 [any of the other apoftles, ihould have acted, as we know 
 
 krnat they did, upon any other foundations than certain 
 
 xnowledge of (Thrift's being rifen from the dead ; or ihould 
 
 knave fucceeded in the work they undertook, without the aid 
 
 )f miraculous powers. To the former of thefe propofitions 
 
 may give my alTent without any direct oppofition of reafon 
 
 o faith ; but in admitting the latter I muft believe againft all 
 
 hofe probabilities that are the rational grounds of aflent. 
 
 Nor do they, who reject the Chriftian religion becaufe of 
 he difficulties which occur in its myfteries, confider how 
 i ,ir that objection will go againft other fyftems both of religi- 
 inin and of philofophy, whicjh they themfelves profefs to ad- 
 lit. There are in deifm itfelf, the moft fimple of all reli- 
 ious opinions, feveral di faculties, for which human reafon 
 in but ill account, .which may therefore be not improperly 
 yled articles of faith. Such is the origin of evil under the 
 overnment of an all-good and all-powerful God ; a queftion 
 > hard, that the inability of folving it in a fatbfa&ory manner 
 ) their apprehensions, has driven fome of the greateft phi- 
 fophers into the monftrous and fenfelefs opinions of Mani- 
 
 cheifm.
 
 252 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 theifm and atheifm. Such is the reconciling the prefcience of 
 God with the free-will of imn, which, after much thought 
 on the fubjeft, Mr. Locke * fairly confefles he could not do, 
 though he acknowledged both ; and what Mr. Locke could 
 not do, in reafoning upon fubje&s of a metaphyfical nature, 
 I am apt to think, few men, if any, can hope to perform. 
 
 Such is alfo the creation of the world at any fuppofed time, 
 or the eternal production of it from God ; it being almofl 
 equally hard, according to meer philofophical notions, either 
 to admit that the goodnefs of God could remain unexerted 
 through all eternity before the time of fuch a creation, let 
 it be fet back ever fo far, or to conceive an eternal production, 
 which words, fo applied, are inconfiftent and contradictory 
 terms ; the folution commonly given by a comnarifon to the 
 emanation of light from the fun not being adequate to it, or 
 juft ; for light is a quality inherent in fire, and naturally 
 emaning from it ; whereas matter is not a quality inherent or 
 emaning from the divine eflence, but of a different fubftance 
 and nature, and, if not independent andfelf-exijling, muft have 
 been created by a meer z& of the divine will ; and if created, 
 then not eternal y the idea of creation implying a time when 
 thefubjiance created did not exift. But if, to get rid of this dif- 
 ficulty, we have recourfe, as many of the ancient philofo- 
 phers hacl, to the independent exijlence vf matter > then we tnuft 
 admit two felf-exijling principles, which is quite inconfiftent 
 with genuine theifm,' or natural reafon. Nay, could that be 
 admitted, it would not yet clear up the doubt, unlefs we 
 fuppofe not only the eternal exigence of matter, independent 
 of God, but that it was from eternity in the order and beauty 
 we fee it in now, without any agency of the Divine power ; 
 otherwife the fame difficulty will always occur, why it was 
 not before put into that order and itate of perfection ; or how 
 the goodnefs of God could fo long remain in a (late of inac- 
 tion, unexerted and unemployed. For were the time of fuch 
 an exertion of it put back ever fo far, if, inftead of five or fix 
 thoufand years, we were to fuppofe millions of millions of 
 ages to have pafled fince the world f was i educed out of a 
 chaos to an harmonious and regular form, ftill a whole eternity 
 
 muft 
 
 * See his Letter to Mr. Molyneux, p. 509. vol. III. 
 
 t By ihe work! I do not mean this earth alone, but the whole 
 material univerfe, wiih all its inhabitants. Even created fphits 
 fail under the fame reafoning ; for they muft aifo have had aL 
 beginning, and before that beginning an eternity muft have pre-1 
 ceded.
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 253 
 
 mu ft have preceded that date, during which the Divine at- 
 tributes did not exert themfelves in that leneficent work, fo 
 (uitable to them that the conjectures -of human reafon can 
 find no caufe for its being delayed. 
 
 But becaufe of thefe difficulties, or any other that may 
 occur in the fyftem of deifm, no wife man will deny the be- 
 ing of God, or his infinite wifdom, goodnefs, and power, which 
 are proved by fuch evidence as carries the cleared and ftrong- 
 eft conviction, and cannot be refufed without involving the 
 nind in far greater difficulties, even in downright abftirdities 
 ind impojfibilitief. The only part therefore that can be taken 
 s, to account in the beft maitner that our weak reafbn is 
 ,ble to da, for fuch feeming objections ; and where that fails, 
 o acknowledge its weaknefs, and acquiefce under the cer- 
 ainty, that our very imperfect knowledge or judgement can- 
 lOt be the meafure of the Divine wifdom, or the univerfal 
 tandard of truth. So likewife it is with refpe& to the Chrif- 
 ian religion. Some difficulties occur in that revelation, which 
 luman reafon can hardly clear ; but as the truth of it ftands 
 pon evidence fo ftrong and convincing, that it cannot be de- 
 lied without much greater difficulties than thofe that attend 
 ihe belief of it, as I have before endeavoured to prove, we 
 [night not to reject it upon fuch objections, however morti- 
 fying they may be to our pride. That indeed would have 
 LU things made plain to us ; but God has thought proper to 
 proportion our knowledge to our wants, not our pride. All 
 pat concerns our du'y is clear ; and as to other points either 
 tf natural or revealed religion, if he has left fome obfcurities 
 p them, is that any reafonable caufe of complaint ? Not to 
 jejoice in the benefit of what he has gracioufly allowed us to 
 jridw, from a prefumptuous difguft at our incapacity of 
 mowing more, is as abfurd as it would be to refufe to walk, 
 Gcaufe we cannot fly. 
 
 From the arrogant ignorance of metaphyfical reafonings, 
 jiming at matters above our knowledge, arofe all the fpecula- 
 jve impiety, and many of the worft fu perditions, of the old 
 : eathen world, before the Gofpel was preached to bring men 
 jack again to the primitive faith ; and from the fame fource 
 ;ave fmce flowed fome of the greateft corruptions of the evan- 
 elical truth, and the moft inveterate prejudices againft it : 
 in effect juft as natural as for our eyes to grow weak, and 
 v en blind, by being drained to look at objects too diftant, or 
 ( 0t made for them to fee. 
 
 Are
 
 
 254 OBSERVATIONS ON THE CONVERSION 
 
 Are then our intellectual faculties of no ufe in religion ? 
 Yes undoubtedly of the mod neceflary ufe, when rightly 
 employed. The proper employment of them is, to diftinguifh 
 its genuine doctrines from others erroneoufly or corruptly af- 
 cribed to it ; to confider the importance and purport of them, 
 with the connexion they bear to one another ; but firft of all 
 to examine with the ftricteft attention the evidence by which 
 religion is proved, Internal as well as external. If the external 
 evidence be convincingly ftrong, and there is no internal proof 
 of its falfhood, but much to fupport and confirm its 
 truth, then furely no difficulties ought to prevent our giving 
 a full aflent and belief to it. It is our duty indeed to endea- 
 vour to find the beft folutions we can to them ; but 
 where no fatisfa&ory ones are to be found, it is no lefs our 
 duty to acquiefce with humility, and believe that to be right 
 which we know is above us, and belonging to a wifdom fu- 
 periour to ours. 
 
 Nor let it be faid, that this will be an argument for the ad- 
 mitting all doctrines, however abfurd that may have been 
 grafted upon the Chriftian faith. Thofe which can plainly be 
 proved not to belong to it, fall not under the reafoning I have 
 laid down (and certainly none do belong to it which contradict 
 either our clear, intuitive knowledge, or the evident principle* 
 and diftates ofreafon.) I fpeak only of difficulties which at- 
 tend the belief of the gofpel in fome of its pure and eflentiai 
 doctrines, plainly and evidently delivered there, which, being 
 made known to us by a revelation fupported by proofs that our 
 reafon ought to admit, and not being fuch things as it can cer- 
 tainly know to befalfe, muft be received by it as objefts of faith, 
 though they are fuch as it could not have difcovered by any 
 natural means, and fuch as are difficult to be conceived, or fa- 
 tisfactorily explained, by its limited powers. If** the glorious 
 light of the Gofpel" be fometimes overcaft with clouds of 
 doubt, fo is the light of our reafon too. But fhall we deprive 
 ourfelves of the advantage of either, becaufe thofe clouds cannot 
 perhaps be entirely removed while we remain in this mortal 
 life ? mail we obftinately and frowardly mut our eyes againft 
 " that day-fpring from on high that has vifited us," becaufe 
 we are not as yet able to bear ihe full blaze of his beams ? 
 Indeed, not even in heaven itfelf, not in the higheft ftate of 
 perfection to which a finite being can ever attain, will all the 
 counfels of Providence, all the height and the depth of the in- 
 finite
 
 AND APOSTLESHIP OF ST. PAUL. 255 
 
 finite wifdom of God, be ever difclofed or underflood. Faith 
 even then will be neceflary ; and there will be myjleries which 
 cannot be penetrated by the moft exalted archangel, zndtruths 
 which cannot be known by him otherwife than from revelation, 
 or believed upon any other ground of aflent than a " fubmiflive 
 confidence in the Divine wifdom." What, then mall man 
 prefume that his weak and narrow underftanding is fufficient 
 to guide him into all truth, without any need of revelation 
 \orfaitb ? mail he complain that " the ways of God are not 
 jlike his ways," and " pad his finding out ?" True Philofo- 
 |phy, as well as true Chriftianity, would teach us a wifer 
 land modefter part. It would teach us to be con- 
 Itent, within thofe bounds which God has afligned to us, 
 I" * carting down imaginations, and every high thing that 
 iexalteth itfelf againfl the knowledge of God, and bringing 
 (into captivity every thought to the obedience of Chrift." 
 
 * 2 Cor. x. 5. 
 
 DIA
 
 DIALOGUES 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 DEAD.
 
 
 O N T E N T S. 
 
 DIALOGUE 
 
 I. T ORDPALKLAND-Mr.HAMPGEN.p.26* 
 
 II. JL, Louis LE GRANDPETER THE GREAT. 
 
 III. PLATO-FENELON. *S 
 
 IV. Mr. ADDISON Dr. SWIFT. p 27I 
 V. ULYSSES CIRCE. J,' *! 
 
 VI. MERCURY-AH Englifh DUELLIST A North 
 American SAVAGE. p 2 -o 
 
 VII. PLINY THE ELDER-PLINY THE YOUNGER.
 
 2 6o CONTENTS. 
 
 of Deuces, Duke rf 
 raine-JoHN, Duke of ARC YLE and GREENJ 
 WICH, Field Marfhal of his Britannic Majefty 
 Forces. 
 
 XXVI. CADMUS HERCULES. 
 
 XXVII MERCURY And a modern fine LADY. p. 37! 
 XXVUI. PLUTARCH-CHARO^And a modern BOOK 
 
 XXIX. PUBUUS R 'CORNELIUS SclPIO AfRlCANUS - 
 
 CAIUS JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 "XXX PLATO DIOGENES. P- 39; 
 
 XXXI. ARISTIDES-PHOCION-DEMOSTHEKES E p 39, 
 XXXII. MARCUS AURELIUS PHILOSOPHUS-SERVIU 
 TULHUS. 
 
 PREFAC
 
 [26l ] 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 FOURTH EDITION, 
 
 f UCIAN among the ancients, and among the moderns 
 Ly Fenelon, archbimop of Cambray, and Monfieur Fonte- 
 elle, have written Dialogues of the Dead with a general ap- 
 Uufe. The plan they have traced out is fo cxtenfive, that 
 ic matter which lies within the compafs of it can fcarce be 
 chaufted. It fets before us the hiftory of all times and all 
 itions, prefents to the choice of a writer all characters of 
 imarkable perfons, which may beft be oppofed to, or com- 
 red with, each other; and is, perhaps, one of the moft 
 jreeable methods, that can be employed, of conveying to 
 ie mind any critical, moral, or political obfervations ; be- 
 lufe the Dramatic fpirit, which may be thrown into them, 
 ves them more life, than they could have in diflertations, 
 )wever well written. And fometimes a new drefs may ren- 
 \y an old truth more pleafing to thofe whom the mere love 
 
 novelty betrays into error, as it very frequently does not 
 iily the wits, but thefages of thefe days. Indeed, one of the 
 <:ft fervices that could now be done to mankind by any good 
 riter, would be the bringing them back to common fenfc, 
 l)m which the defire of mining by extraordinary notions 
 !.s feduced great numbers, to the no fmall detriment of mo- 
 :lity, and of all real knowledge. 
 
 It may be proper to obferve, that in all works of this na- 
 re, the dead are often fuppofed, by a neceffary fiction, to 
 
 thoroughly informed of many particulars, which happened 
 ; times pofterior to their own ; and in all parts of the world, 
 : well as in the countries to which they belonged. Thus, in 
 melon's dialogue between Gelon and Dion, the former finds 
 :jlt with the conduct of the latter ; and in another between 
 Mon and the emperor Juftinian, the Athenian cenfures the 
 jvernment of the Roman Legiflator, and talks of the Hiftory 
 t Procopius, as if he had read it, I have alfo taken the 
 S ^ liberty
 
 262 PREFACE, 
 
 liberty that others have ufed, to date the feveral dialogues, as 
 beft fuited with the purpofes to which they were written, 
 fuppofing fomeof them to have pafled immediately after the- 
 deceafe of one or more of the fpeakers, and others at a very 
 great diftance of time from that in which they lived. But 
 1 have not in this edition made any alteration in the dates of 
 the former. Elyfium, Minos, Mercury, Charon, and Styx, 
 being neceffary allegories in this way of writing, are occafi- 
 onally ufed here, as they have been by Fontenelle and the 
 archbimop of Cambray : which (if it offended any critical or 
 pious ears) I would juftify by the declaration gravely annexed 
 to the works of all Italian writers, wherein they ufe fuch ex- 
 preflions : " Se bavejji nominato Fato, Fortuna, DeJIino, 
 " ElyftOy Stige, &c. fono frborzi di penna poetica, non fen- 
 tf timenti di animo Catolico *." 
 
 Three of thefe dialogues were written by a different hand; 
 as T am afraid would have appeared but too plainly to the 
 reader, without my having told it. If the friend who fa- 
 voured me with them fliould ever write any more, I mail 
 think that the public owes me a great obligation, for having 
 excited a genius fo capable of uniting delight with inftru&ion, 
 and giving to virtue and knowledge thofe graces, which the 
 wit of the age has too often, and too fuccefsfully, employed 
 all its (kill to beftow on vice and folly. 
 
 Befidesmany corrections which the reader will find in this 
 edition, four new dialogues are added, in order to complete 
 one chief defign of the work, I mean the illuftrating of cer- 
 tain principles and certain charafters of importance, by bring- 
 ing in perfons who have ated upon different fyftems, to de- 
 fend their own conduct, or to explain their own notions, by 
 free difcourfe with each other, and in a manner conformable 
 to the turn of their minds, as they have been reprefented to 
 us by the beft authors. 
 
 The feeing this done in the compafs of a fmall volume, 
 may poflibly induce our young gentry (for whofe fervice it is 
 more particularly intended) to meditate on the fubjeb treated 
 of in this work : and, if they make a proper ufe of the lights 
 given to them, the public, I hope, will derive fome benefit 
 from the book, when the writer is no more. 
 
 *lflhavenamed Fate, Fortune, Deftiny, Elyjium, Styx, &C- 
 they are only the fports of a poetical pen, noi the fentiraents o 
 a Catholic mind. 
 
 P If.
 
 OI ALOGUES 
 
 
 
 F 
 
 THE 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 D 
 
 E 
 
 A 
 
 D. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Lord FALKLAND MF.HAMPDEN. 
 
 Lord Folk. A RE not you furprized to fee me in Ely- 
 /I. Hum, Mr. Hampden * 
 
 : r. Hamp.l own I did, and I don't wonder at the feverity 
 , your thoughts about me. The heat of the times deprived 
 .both of our natural candour. Yet I will confefs to you 
 , e, that before I died, I began to fee in our party enough 
 :juft.fyyoura PP rehenfions, that the civil war, which we 
 1 entered into from generous motives, from a laudable de- 
 ; e to preferve our free conftitution, would end very unhap- 
 
 ie y n hv J PS ' f 'u ^ iffuC ' deftr > r that conftitution, 
 jcn by the arms of thofe who pretended to be moft zealous 
 
 Lord Folk. And I will as frankly own to you, that I f aw r, 
 3 
 
 , 
 
 ; ilerif 3 ""P f thC f king *' f muc f alarm -fo 
 hberty of my country, if our arms were fuccefsful, that 
 j eaded a v.aory httlc left than I did a defeat, and had no 
 n my mouth but the word ^,, which I conftantly 
 
 never ^ council atwhich 
 
 Mr. Hang .] [ wifhed for peace too, as ardentfy as your 
 m.p. But I faw no hopes of it. The infmcerity of the 
 
 ters in the Sidney Collection, from the earl of 
 > L.ady, 
 
 S 4 ting
 
 264 DIALOGUES' OT THE DEAD. 
 
 king and the influence of the queen made it impoflible to 
 truft to his promifes or declarations. Nay, what reliance 
 could we reasonably have upon laws defigned to limit and. 
 reftrain the power of the crown, after he had violated fbe\ 
 bill of rights, obtained with fuch difficulty, and containing 
 fo clear an aflertion of the privileges which had been in dif- 
 pute ? If his confcience would'ailow him to break an at of 
 parliament made to determine the bounds of the royal preroga- 
 tive, becaufe he thought that the royal prerogative could have 
 no bounds, 1 what legal ties could bind a confcience fo preju- 
 diced ? or 1 what effectual' fecurity could his people obtain 
 againft the obftinate malignity of fuch an opinion, but en- 
 tirely taking from him the power of the fword, and enabling- 
 them/elves to defend the laws he had paft ? 
 
 Lord Folk. There is evidently too much truth in what you 
 have faid. But, by taking from the king the power of tbt 
 fword, you in reality took ail power. It was converting the 
 government into a democracy ; and if he had fubmitted to it, 
 he would only have preferved the name of a king. The fceptre 
 would have been held by thofe who had ttie fword ; or we 
 mud have lived in a ftate of perpetual anarchy, without any 
 force, or balance in the government ; a (late which could 
 not have laded long, but would have ended in a republic or 
 in abfolute dominion. 
 
 Mr. PPampden. Your reafoning feems unanfwerable. But 
 what could we do ? Let Dr. Laud and thofe other court- 
 divines, who directed the king's confcience, and fixed in it 
 fuch principles, as made him unfit to govern a limited mo- 
 narchy, though with many good qualities, and feme great 
 ones ; let them, I fay, anfwer for all the mifchiefs they 
 brought upon him and the nation. 
 
 Lord Folk. They were, indeed, much to blame : but thofe 
 principles had gained ground before their times, and feemed 
 the principles of our church, in oppofition to the Jefuits, who 
 had certainly gone too far in the oiher extream. 
 
 Mr. Harnpden. It is a difgrace to our church to have taken 
 up fuch opinions ; and I will venture to prophefy, that out 
 clergy, in future times, muft renounce them, or they will b 
 turned againft them by thofe who mean their deflru&ion 
 Suppofe a Popifh, king on the throne. Will the clergy ad- 
 here to paflive obedience and non-refiflance ? If they do : 
 they deliver up their religion to Rome ; if they do not, theii 
 practice will confute their own doctrines. 
 
 Lord Falk. Nature, Sir, will in the end be fure to fet righ 
 Whatever opinion contradicts her great laws, let who will to 
 
 th
 
 D I A. L O G U E I. 265 
 
 the teacher. But, indeed, the more I reflect on thofe mife- 
 rable times in which we both lived, the more I efteem it a 
 favour of Providence to us, that we were cut off fo foon. 
 'The moft grievous misfortune that can befall a virtuous man, 
 is to be in Jucb ajiate, that be can hardly Jo al as to approve 
 bis own conduct. In fuch a date we both were. We could 
 not eafily make a ftep, either forward or backward, without 
 great hazard of guilt, or at leaft of difhonour. We were 
 unhappily entangled in connections with men who did not 
 mean fo well as ourlelves, or did not judge fo rightly. If 
 we endeavoured to flop them, they thought us falfe to the 
 caufe : if we Went on with them, we run diredly upon rocks, 
 which we faw, but could not avoid. Nor could we take 
 flielter in a philofophical retreat from bufinefs. Inaction 
 would in us have been cowardice and dcferticn. To com- 
 pleat the public calamities, a religious fury, on both fides, 
 mingled itfJf with the rage of our civil diflentions, more 
 frantic than that, more implacable, more averfe to all healing 
 meafures. The mod; intemperate counfels were thought the 
 moft pious ; and a regard to the laws, if they oppofed the 
 fuggeftions of thefe fiery zealots, was accounted irreligion. 
 This added new difficulties to what was before but too diffi~ 
 cult in itfelf, the fettling of a nation which no longer could 
 put any confidence in its fovereign, nor lay more restraints on 
 the royal authority without deftroying the balance of the 
 whole conftitution. In thefe circumftances, the balls, that 
 pierced our hearts, were directed thither by the hands of our 
 guardian angels, to deliver us from horrors we could not fup- 
 port, and perhaps from a guilt our fouls abhorred. 
 
 Mr. Hamp. Indeed things were brought to fo deplorable a 
 (late, that, if either of us had feen his party triumphant, he 
 muft have lamented that triumph as the ruin of his country. 
 Were I to return into life, the experience I have had would 
 make me very cautious, how I kindled the fparks of civil 
 war in England : for 1 have feen, that, when once that de- 
 vouring fire is lighted, it is not in the power of the head of 
 a party to fay to the conflagration, Thus far /halt thou go, 
 end here /ball thy violence flop. 
 
 Lord Falk. The converfation we have had, as well as the 
 Deflections of my own mind on pad events, would, if I were 
 condemned to my body again, teach me great moderation in 
 my judgments of perfons, who might happen to differ from 
 me in difficult fcenes of public aHon : they would entirely 
 cure me of \\\zfpirit of party, and make me think, that, as in 
 the church, fo alfo in the rtate, no evil is more to be feared 
 than a rancorous and enthufiaftical zeal. DIA-
 
 [ 266 ] 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 Louis LE GRAND PETER THE GREAT. 
 
 Louis. TT THO, Sir, could have thought, when you 
 V V were learning the trade of a Shipwright in 
 
 were learning the trade of a Shipwright in 
 the dock-yards of England and Holland, that you would ever 
 acquire, as I had done, the furnarne of Great ? 
 
 Peter. Which of us bed deferved that title, pofterity will 
 decide. But my greatnefs appeared^ fufficiently in that very 
 at which feemed to you a debafement. 
 
 Louis. The dignity of a king does not ftoop to fuch mean 
 employments. For my own pait, I was careful never to ap- 
 pear to the eyes of my fubje&s or foreigners, but in all the 
 fplendor and majefty of royal power. 
 
 Peter. Had I remained on the throne of RufTia, as my an- 
 ceflors did, environed with all the pomp of barbarous great- 
 nefs, 1 mould have been idolized by my people, as much, at 
 leaft, as you ever were by the French. My defpotifm was 
 more abfolute, their fervitude was more humble. J3ut then 
 I could not have reformed their evil cuftoms ; have taught 
 them arts, civility, navigation, and war; have exalted them 
 from brutes in human fhapes into men. In this was feen the 
 extraordinary force of my genius beyond any comparifon 
 with all other kings, that 1 thought it no degradation, or di- 
 minution of my greatnefs, to defcend from my throne, and 
 go and work in the dock-yards of a foreign republic ; to ferve 
 as a private failor in my own fleets, and as a common foldier 
 in my own army ; till I had raifed myfelf by my merit in all 
 the feveral fteps and degrees of promotion, up to the highetl 
 command, and had thus induced my nobility to fubmit to a 
 regular fubordination in the fea and land-fervice, by a leflbn 
 hard to their pride, and which they would not have learnt 
 from any other matter, or by any other method of inftru&ion. 
 
 Louis. I am forced to acknowledge, that it was a great aft. 
 When I thought it a mean one, my judgement was perverted 
 by the prejudices arifing from my own education, and the ri- 
 dicule thrown upon it by feme of my courtiers, whofe minds 
 were too narrow to be able to comprehend the greatnefs of 
 your's in that fituation. 
 
 Peter. It was an aft of more heroifm than any ever done by 
 Alexander or Caefar. Nor would I confent to exchange my 
 glory with their's. They both did great things ; but they 
 were at the head of great nations, far fuperior in valour and 
 military (kill to thofe with whom they contended. I was the 
 
 king
 
 D I A L O G U E II. 267 
 
 king of an ignorant, undifciplined, barbarous people. My 
 enemies were at firft fo fuperior to my fubjets, that ten 
 thoufand of them could beat a hundred thoufand Ruffians. 
 They had formidable navies : I had not a (hip. The king 
 of Sweden was a prince of the mod intrepid courage, affifted 
 by generals of confummate knowledge in war, and ferved by 
 foldiers fo disciplined, that they were become the admiration 
 and terror of Europe. Yet I vanquifhed thefe foldiers; I 
 drove that prince to take refuge in Turkey ; I won battles at 
 fea, as well as land ; I new-created my people ; I gave them 
 arts, fcience, policy ; I enabled them to keep all the powers 
 of the North in awe and dependarice, to give kings to Po- 
 land, to check and intimidate the Ottoman emperors, to mix 
 with great weight in the affairs of all Europe. What other 
 man has ever done fuch wonders as thefe ? Read all the re- 
 cords of ancient and modern times, and find, if you can, one 
 fit to be put in comparifon with me ! 
 
 Louis. Your glory would indeed have been fupreme and 
 unequalled, if, in civilizing your fubjects, you had reformed 
 the brutality of your own manners, and the barbarous vices 
 of your nature. Bjt, alas! the legiflator and reformer of 
 the Muscovites was drunken and cruel. 
 
 Peter. My drunkennefs Iconfefs : nor will I plead, to ex- 
 cufe it, the example of Alexander. It inflamed the tempers 
 of both, which were by nature too fiery, into furious paf- 
 fions of anger, and produced actions, of which our reafon, 
 when fober, was afhamed. But the cruelty you upbraid me 
 with may in fome degree be excufed, as neceflary to the 
 work I had to perform. Fear of punimment was in the 
 hearts of my barbarous fubje&s the only principle of obedi- 
 ence. To make them refpeS the royal authority, I was ob- 
 liged to arm it with all the terrors of rage. You had a morfc 
 pliant people to govern, a people whofe minds could be 
 ruled, like a fine managed horfe, with an eafy and gentle 
 rein. The fear of ftiame did more with them than the fear 
 of the knout could do with the Ruffians. The humanity of 
 your character and the ferocity of mine were equally fuitable 
 to the nations over which we reigned. But what excufe can 
 you find for the cruel violence you employed againft your 
 Proteftant fubje&s ? They defired nothing but to live under 
 the protection of laws you yourfelf had confirmed ; and they 
 repaid that protection by the moft hearty zeal for your fer- 
 vice. Yet thefe did you force, by the moft inhuman feverr- 
 ties, either to quit the religion in which they were bred, and 
 which their confciences ftill retained, or to leave their native 
 
 lard,
 
 263 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 land, and endure all the woes of a perpetual exile. If the 
 rules of policy could not hinder you from thus depopulating 
 your kingdom, and transferring to foreign countries its ma- 
 nufactures and commerce, I am furpriied that your heart it- 
 felf did not flop you. It makes one fliudder to think, that 
 fuch orders fliould be fent from the moft polifhed/rourt in Eu- 
 rope, as the mo(t favage Tartars could hardly have executed 
 without remorfe andcompaflion. 
 
 Louis. It was not my heart, but my religion, that dic- 
 tated thefe feverities. MyconteiTor told me, they alone would 
 atone for all my fins. 
 
 Peter. Had I believed in my patriarch, as you believed in 
 your prieft, I fhould not have been the great monarch that I 
 was. But I mean not to detract from the merit of a prince 
 whofe memory is dear to his fubje&s. They are proud of 
 having obeyed you, which is certainly the higheft praife to a 
 king. My people alfo date their glory from the aera of my 
 reign. But there is this capital ciftin&ion between us. The, 
 pomp and pageantry of ftate were necelTary to your great - 
 nefs : I was great in myfelf, great in the energy and powers 
 of my mind, great in the fuperiority and foveretgnty of my 
 foul over all other men. 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 PLATO FENELON. 
 
 P/a^.TTTELGOME to Elyfium, O thou, the moft 
 VV pure, the moft gentle, the moft refined 
 difciple of philofophy that the world, in modern times, 
 has produced ! Sage Fenelon, welcome ! I need not name 
 mvfelf to you. Our fouls by fympathy muft know one ano- 
 ther. 
 
 Fen. I kr.ow you to be Plato, the moft amiable of all the 
 difciples of Socrates, and the philofopher of all antiquity 
 whom I moft defired to refemble. 
 
 Plato. Homer and Orpheus are impatient to fee you in that 
 region of thefe happy fields, which their fhades inhabit. They 
 both acknowledge you to be a great poet, though you have 
 tfriften no verfes. And truy are now bufy in compofing for 
 you unfading wreaths of all the fineft and fweeteft El) flan 
 flowers. But I will lead you from them to the facred grove 
 of Philofophy, on the higheft hill cf EJyfium, where the air 
 is moft pure and moft ferene. I will conduct you to the foun- 
 tain of Wildom, in which you will fee, as in your own writ- 
 ings, the fair image of Virtue perpetually reflected. It will 
 raife in ytiu more love than was felt by NarcilTus, when lie 
 
 contemplated
 
 DIALOGUE II. 269 
 
 contemplated the beauty of his own face in the unruffled 
 fpringi But you fhall not pine, as he did, for a (hadow. 
 The goddefs herfelf will affectionately meet your embraces 
 and mingle with your foul. 
 
 Fen, I find you retain the allegorical and poetical ftyle, of 
 which you were fo fond in many of your writings. Mine alfo 
 run fometimes into poetry, particularly in my Telemachus, 
 which I meant to make a kind of epic compofition. But I 
 dare not rank myfelf among the great poets, nor pretend to 
 any equality in oratory with you, the moft eloquent of philo- 
 fophers, on whofe lips the Attic bees diftilled all their honey. 
 
 Plato. The French language is not fo harmonious as the 
 Greek : yet you have given a fweetnefs to it, which equally 
 charms the ear and heart. When one reads your compofi- 
 tions, one thinks that one hears Apollo's lyre, ftrung by the 
 hands of the Graces, and tuned by the Mufes. The idea of 
 a perfeft king, which you have exhibited in your Telema- 
 chus, far excels, in my own judgement, my imaginary re- 
 public. Your Dialogue s breathe the pure fpirit of virtue, of 
 unaffected good fenfe, of juft criticifm, of fine tafte. They 
 are in general as fuperior to your countryman Fontenelle's, 
 as reafon is to falfe wit, or truth to affectation. The greateft 
 fault of them, I think, is, that fome are too mort. 
 
 Fen. It has been objected to them, and I am fenfible of it 
 myfelf, that moft of them are too full of common-place morals. 
 But I wrote them for the inftruction of a young prince : and 
 one cannot too forcibly imprint on the minds of thofe who are 
 born to empire the moft fimplc truths : becaufe, as they grow 
 up, the flattery of a court will try to difguife and conceal from 
 them thofe truths, and to eradicate from their hearts the love 
 of their duty, if it has not taken there a very deep root. 
 
 Plato. It is indeed the peculiar misfortune of princes, that 
 they are often inftru&ed with great care in the refinements of 
 policy, and not taught the firft principles of moral obligations, 
 or taught fo fuperficially, that the virtuous man is foon loft 
 in the corrupt politician. But the leflbns of virtue you gave 
 your royal pupil are fo graced by the charms of your elo- 
 quence, that the oldeft and wifeft men may attend to them 
 with pleafure. All your writings are embellimed with a fub- 
 lime and agreeable imagination, which gives elegance to 
 Simplicity, and dignity to the moft vulgar and obvious truths. 
 I have heard, indeed, that your countrymen are lefs fenfible 
 of the beauty of your genius and ftyle than any of their neigh- 
 bours. What has fo much depraved their tafte ? 
 
 FfK,
 
 270 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Fen. That which depraved the tafleof the Romans aftef 
 the age of Auguftus ; an immoderate love of wit, of para- 
 dox, of refinement. The works of their writers, like the 
 faces of their women, muft be painted and adorned with ar- 
 tificial embellimments to attract their regards. And thus the 
 natural beauty of both is loft. But it is no wonder if few of 
 them efteem my Telemachus ; as the maxims I have princi- 
 pally inculcated there are thought by many inconfiftent with 
 the grandeur of their monarchy, and with the fplendor of a 
 refined and opulent nation. They feem generally to be fall- 
 ing into opinions, that the chief end of fociety is to procure 
 the pleafures of luxury ; that a nice and elegant tafte of vo- 
 luptuous enjoyments is the perfection of merit ; and that a 
 king, who is gallant, magnificent, liberal, who builds a fine 
 palace, who furnimes it well with good ftatues and pictures, 
 who encourages the fine arts, and makes them fubfervient to 
 every modifh vice, who has a reftlefs ambition, a perfidious 
 policy, and a fpirit of conqueft, is better for them than a 
 Numa, or a Marcus Aurelius. Whereas to check the ex- 
 cefles of luxury, thofe exceflcs I mean which enfeeble the 
 fpirit of a nation ; to eafe the people, as much as is poflible, 
 of the burthen of taxes; to give them the blefllngs of peace 
 and tranquillity, when they can be obtained without injury 
 or dilhonour ; to make them frugal, and hardy, and malcu- 
 line in the temper of their bodies and minds, that they may 
 be the fitter for war whenever it does come upon them ; but 
 above all to watch diligently over their morals, and difcourage 
 whatever may defile or corrupt them, is the great bufinefs of 
 government, and ought to be in allcircumftances the principal 
 object of a wife legiflature. Unquestionably that is the bappieft 
 country which has mojl virtue in it : and to the eye of fober 
 reafon the pooreft Swifs canton is a much nobler ftate than 
 the kingdom of France, if it has more liberty, better morals, 
 a more fettled tranquillity, more moderation in profperity, 
 and more firmnefs in danger. 
 
 Plato. Your notions are juft ; and if your country reje&s 
 them, (he will rot long hold the rank of the firft nation in 
 Europe. Her declenfion is begun, her ruin approaches. For, 
 omitting all other arguments, can a {late be well ferved, when 
 the raifing of an opulent fortune in its fervice, and making a 
 fplendid ufe of that fortune, is a difrinSion more envied than 
 any which arifes from integrity in office, or public fpirit in 
 government ? can that fpirit, which is the parent of a natio- 
 nal greatnefs, continue vigorous and diffufive, where the de- 
 fire ot wealth, for the fake of a luxury which wealth alone
 
 DIALOGUE II. 27 r 
 
 can fupport, and an ambition afpiriftg, not to glory, but to 
 profit, are the predominant paflions ?. If it exifts in a king, 
 or a minifter of ft ate, how w iH e i t h cr o f them find, among a 
 people fo difpofed, the neceflary inftruments to execute his 
 great defigns ; or rather, what obftruaion will he not find 
 from the continual oppofition of private in tere ft to public ? 
 But if, on the contrary, a court inclines to tyranny, what a 
 facility will be given by thefe difpofitions to that evil purpofe ! 
 how will men, with minds relaxed by the enervating cafe and 
 foftnefs of luxury, have vigour to oppofe it ! will not moft of 
 them lean to fervitude, as their natural jlate, as that in 
 which the extravagant and infatiable cravings of their artifi- 
 cial wants may belt be gratified at the charge of a bountiful 
 mafter, or by the fpoils of an enflaved and ruined people ? 
 when all fenfe of public virtue is thus deftroyed, will not 
 fraud, corruption, and avarice, or the oppofite workings of 
 court fadions to bring difgrace on each other, ruin armies 
 and fleets without the help of an enemy, and give up the in- 
 dependence of the nation to foreigners, after having betrayed 
 its liberties to a king ? All thefe mifchiefs you faw attendant 
 on that luxury, which fome modern philosophers account (as 
 I am informed) the higheft good to a flare ! Time will (hew 
 that their doannes are pernicious to fociety, pernicious to 
 government ; and that your'*, tempered and moderated, fo 
 as to render them more practicable in the prefent circum- 
 ftanccs of your country, are wife, falutary, and defervingof 
 the general thanks of mankind. But, left you mould think, 
 from the pra.fe I have given you, that flattery can find a place 
 in Llyfium, allow me to lament, with the tender forrow of 
 a friend, that a man fo fuperior to all other follies could give 
 into the reveries of a madame Guyon, a diftraaed enthufiaft 
 
 Ti, uT W3 r ll f feC the taM S reat ! ' bts f ^ance, you 
 -and the b.ftiop of Meaux, engaged In a controverfy, whether 
 a madwoman was a heretic, or a faint ! 
 -Fen I confefs my own weaknefs, and the ridiculoufnefs of 
 the dilpute. But did not your warm imagination carry you 
 alto into fome reviriet tfbont4&/iWflir, in which you talked 
 unintelligibly, even to yourfelf ? 
 
 Plato I felt fomething more than T was able to exbrefs. 
 fen. I had my feelings too, as fine and as lively as youi's 
 But we mould both have done better to have avoided thofc 
 in which fentiment took the place of reafon. 
 
 ; - .-.",.. :. 'O i,-)-f ;.;i ;.; V: ,j -^{ /^iH 
 
 DIALOGUE
 
 22* DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 DIALOG U >E IV. 
 
 Mr. A D D i s o N Dr. SWIFT. 
 SwiJt,Q\ U R E L Y, Addifon, Fortune was exceedingly 
 
 inclined to play the fool (a humour her ladyfhip> 
 as well as mofl other ladies of very great quality, is frequent- 
 ly in) when (he made you a minijler of ftate> and me a 
 divine ! 
 
 Addifon. I mufl confefs we were both of us out of our ele- 
 ments. But you don't mean to insinuate, that all would have 
 been right, if our deftinies had be.en,reyrfed ? 
 
 Swijt. Yes, I do. You would have made an excellent 
 bimop ; and I mould have governed Great Britain, as I did 
 Ireland, with an abfolute fway, while I talked of nothing but 
 liberty* property, and fo forth. 
 
 Addifon. You governed the mob df Ireland ; but I never 
 underftood that you governed the kingdom. A cation and a 
 mobare very different things* 
 
 Swift. Ay ; fo you fellows that have no genius for poli- 
 tics may fuppofe. But there are times when, by feafonably 
 putting himfelf at the head of the mob, an able man may get 
 to the head of the nation. Nay, there. are times, when the 
 nation itfelf is a mob, and ought to be treated as fuch by a 
 fkilful obferver. 
 
 Addifon. I don't deny the truth of your propofition. But 
 is there no danger, that> from the natural viciflitudes of hu- 
 man affairs, the favourite of the mob mould be mobbed in 
 his turn ? 
 
 Swift. Sometimes there may : but I rijlked it ; and it an- 
 fwered my purpofe. Alk the lord lieutenants, who were 
 forced to pay court to me, infteadof my courting them, whe- 
 ther they did not feel myfuperiority. And if I could make my- 
 felf fo confiderable, when I was only a dirty dean of St. Pa- 
 trick's, without a feat in either houfe of parliament, what 
 Ihould I have done, if fortune had placed me in England, un- 
 incumbered with a gown, and in a . foliation that would have 
 enabled me to make rayfelf heard in the houfc of lords or of 
 commons ? 
 
 Addijon. You would undoubtedly have done very marvel- 
 lous ats ! Perhaps you might then have been as zealous a 
 whig as my lord Wharton himfelf. Or, if the whigs had 
 unhappily offended the jlatefmen, as they did the doflor, who 
 knows whether you might not have brought in the pretender? 
 Pray let me afk you one queftion between you and me. If 
 your great talents had raifed you to the office of firft minif- 
 
 ter
 
 D I A L O G tr IV. 2?3 
 
 ter under that prince, would you have tolerated the Frotef- 
 tant religion, or not ? 
 
 Swift. Ha ! Mr. Secretary ; are you witty upon me? d6 
 you think, becaufe Sunderlafid took a fancy to make you a 
 great man in the ftate, that he, or his matter, could make 
 you as great in wit, as nature made me ? No, no ; wit is 
 like grace, it muft be g[ven from above. You can no more 
 get that from the king, than my lords the bifhops can the 
 Other. And, though I will own you had fome, yet believe 
 me, my friend, it was no match for mine. I think you have 
 not vanity enough in your nature, to pretend to a competition 
 in that point with me. 
 
 Addifon. I have been told by my friends that I was rathef 
 too modeft. So I will not determine this difpute for myfelf, 
 but refer it to Mercury, the god of wit, who fortunately 
 happens to be coming this way, with a foul he has brought to 
 the fhades. 
 
 Hail, divine Hermes ! a queftion of precedence in theclafs 
 f wit and humour, over which you prefide, having arilen 
 
 between me and my countryman, Dr. Swift, we beg leave 
 
 | MERCURY Dr. Swift, I rejoice to fee youHow does 
 
 my old lad ? how does honed Lemuel Gulliver? have you 
 
 .been in Lilliput lately, or in tint flying ifland, or with your 
 
 pod nurfe Glumdalclitch? Pray when did you eat a c rufl with 
 
 Word Peter ? is Jack as mad ftill as ever ? I hear that, fince 
 
 &oo publimed the hiftory of his cafe, the poor fellow, by more 
 
 renrle ufage, is almoft got well. If he had but more food, 
 
 te would be as much in his fenfes as brother Martin himfelf. 
 
 But Martin, they tell me, has lately fpawned a ftrange brood 
 
 >fMethodirts, Moravians, Hutchinfonians, \vho are madder 
 
 ihan ever Jack was in his worft days. It is a great pity you 
 
 |re not alive again, to make a new edition of your Tale of the 
 
 JBfub for the ufe of thefe fellows. Mr. Addifon, I beg your 
 
 iardon, I m uld have fpoken to you fooner ; but I was fo 
 
 [puck with the fight of my old friend the defter, that I for- 
 
 ot tor a time the refpe&s due to you. 
 
 Swift. Addifon, I think our difpute is decided, before the 
 Jd^e has heard the caufe. 
 
 Addifon. I own it is, in your favour ; hut 
 ; MLRCURY Don't be difcouraged, friend Addifon. Apollo 
 erhaps would have given a different judgment. I am a' wit, 
 'id a rogue, and a foe to all dignity. Swift and I naturally 
 ke one another. He worfhips me more than Jupiter, and I 
 : onour him more than Homer. But yet, I a flu re vou, I havi 
 great value for you Sir Roger de ' Coverlj , Will Honey- 
 wnb,Will Wimble, the country gentleman in the FreehoJ ler 
 T
 
 274 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 and twenty more charaders, drawn with the fined ftrgkes 
 of unaffeaedwitand humour in your admirable writings, have 
 obtained for you a high place in the clafsof my authors, though 
 rot quite fo high a one as the dean of St. Patrick's. Perhaps 
 you might have got before him, if the decency of your nature 
 and the cautioufnefs of your judgment would have given you 
 leave. But, allowing, that in the force and fpirit of his wit 
 he has really the advantage, how much does he yield to you in 
 all the elegant graces ; in the fine touches of delicate lenti- 
 ment in developing the fecret fprings of the loul ; in (hew ing 
 the mild lights and (hades of a character ; in diftindly marking 
 each line, and every foft gradation of tints, which would efcape 
 the common eye! Who ever painted like you the beautiful 
 parts of human nature, and brought them out from under 
 the (hades even of the greated fimplicity,or the mod ridiculous 
 weaknefles ; fo that we are forced to admire, and feel that we 
 vnerate, even while we are laughing! Swift was able to do 
 nothing that approaches to this. He could draw an ill face, 
 or caricature a good one, with a mafterly hand : but there was 
 all his power : and, if I am to fpeak as a god, a worthlefs power 
 it is. Your's is divine. It tends to exalt human nature. 
 
 Swift. Pray, good Mercury, (if I may have liberty to 
 fay a word for myfelf) do you think that my talent was not 
 highly beneficial to correfl human nature ? is whipping of no 
 ufe to mend naughty boys ? . 
 
 MERCURY Men are generally not fo patient of whipping 
 as boys : and a rough fat iri ft is feldorn known to mend them. 
 Satire, like antimony, if it be ufed as a medicine, mud be 
 rendered lefs corrofive. Your's is often rank poifon. But I 
 will allow that you have done fome good in your way, though 
 not half fo much as Addifon did in his. 
 
 Addihn, Mercury, I am fatisfied. It matters little whai; 
 rank you aflign me as a wit, if you give me the precedence ] 
 a friend and benefaaor to mankind. 
 
 MERCURY I pafs femence on the writer;, not the men 
 And my decree is this. When any hero is brought hither, who 
 wants to be humbled, let the talk of lowering his arrogance b 
 afllgned to Swift. The fame good office may be done to a phi 
 lofopher vain of his wifdom and virtue, or to a bigot puffed IT 
 with fpiritual pride. The doaor's difcipline will foon cnnvmc 
 the fird, that with all his beaded morality, he is but a yahoo 
 and the latter, that to be holy he mud neceflarily be humbh 
 I would alfo have him apply his anticofmeticwojh to the paintej 
 face of female vanity, and "his rod, which draws blood at ever 
 droke, to the hard back of infolent folly or petulant wit. Bt 
 Addifon diould be employed to comfort thole, whofe delical 
 minds are dejeatd with too painful a fenfe of fome infirmitij
 
 D I A L O G U E V. 2 75 
 
 in their nature. To them he mould hold his fair and chari- 
 table miFrour,which would bring to their fight their hidden ex- 
 cellencies, and put them in a temper fit for Elyfium. Adieu : 
 continue to efteem and love each other as you did in the other 
 world, though you were of oppofite parties, and (what is ftill 
 more wonderful) rival wits. This alone is fufficient to en- 
 title you both to Elyfium. 
 
 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 ULYSSESCIRCE. In CIRCE'S Ijland (a). 
 Cifce.^T O U will go then, Ulyfles ; but tell me without 
 J_ referve What carries you from me ? 
 
 Uly/. Pardon, goddefs, the weaknefs of human nature. 
 My heart will figh for my country. It is an attachment 
 which all my admiration of you cannot entirely overcome. 
 
 Circe. This is not all. 1 perceive you are afraid to de- 
 clare your whole mind : but what, Ulyfles, do you fear ? 
 my terrors are gone. The proudeft goddefs on earth, when 
 fhe has favoured a mortal as I have favoured you, has laid her 
 divinity and power at his feet. 
 
 Ulyf. It may be fo, while there ftill remains in her heart 
 the tendernels of love, or in her mind the fear of fhame. But 
 you, Circe, are above thofe vulgar fenfations. 
 
 Circe. I underitand your caution ; it belongs to your cha- 
 racter : and therefore, to remove all diffidence from you, I 
 fvvear by Styx, I will do no manner of harm, either to you, 
 or your friends, for any tling which you fay, however offen- 
 five it may be to my love or my pride ; but will fend you away 
 from my ifland with all marks of my friendftiip. Tell me now 
 truly, what pleafures you hope to enjoy in the barren rock of 
 Ithaca, which can compenfate for thofe you leave in this para- 
 dife, exempt from all cares, and overflowing with all delights? 
 
 Ulyf. The pleafures of virtue; the fupremehappinefs of do- 
 ing good. Here I do nothing. My mind is in a palfy : all its 
 faculties are benumbed. I long to return into action, that I 
 , may worthily employ thofe talents, which I have cultivated 
 from the eaflieft days of my youth. Toils and cares fright not 
 me. They are the exercifeof my foul ; they keep it in health 
 find in vigour. Give me again the fields of Troy, rather than 
 thefe vacant groves. There I could reap the bright harvert of 
 
 (a) N. B. This cannot be properly called a Dialogue of the Dead i 
 ' but we have one cf the time kind among Cambray's Dialogues, be- 
 . tween Ulyfles and his companion Gr'illus, when turned to a boar by 
 i the enchantments of" Circe ; and two or thres others, that arefup* 
 ipofed to have patt between living perfons. 
 
 T 2 glory j
 
 076 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 glory j here I am hid, like a coward, from the eyes of man- 
 kind, and begin to appear contemptible in my own. The 
 image of my former felf haunts and feems to upbraid me, 
 wherefoever I go. I meet it under the gloom of every (hade : 
 it even intrudes itfelf into your prefence, and chides me trom 
 your arms. O goddefs, unlefs you have power to lay that 
 fpirit, unlefs you can make me forget myfelf, I cannnot be 
 happy here, I (hall every day be more wretched. 
 
 Circe. May not a wife and good man, who has fpent all 
 his youth in acYive life and honourable danger, when he 
 begins to decline, be permitted to retire, and enjoy the reft 
 of his days in quiet and pleafure ? 
 
 Ulyf. No retreat can be honourable to a wife and good 
 man, but in company with the Mufes. Here I am deprived 
 of that facred fociety. The Mufcs will rot inhabit the abodes 
 ef voluptuoufnefs and fenfual pleafure. How can I ftudy, or 
 think, while fuch a number of beafts (and the word beaft are 
 men turned into beafts) are howling, or roaring, or grunting 
 all about me? 
 
 Circe. There may be fomething in this: but this, I know, 
 is not all. You fupprefs the ftrongeft reafon that draws you 
 to Ithaca. There is another image, befides that of your for* 
 merfelf, which appears to you in this ifland ; which follows 
 your walks , which more particularly interpofes itfelf between 
 you and me, and chides you from my arms. It is Penelope, 
 Ulyfles, I know it is. Don't pretend to deny it. You figh 
 for Penelope in my bofom itfelf- And yet (he is not an im- 
 mortal. She is not, as I ain, endowed by nature with the 
 gift of unfading youth. Several years have part fince her's 
 has been faded. I might fay without vanity that in her beft 
 davs fhe was never fo handfome as I. But what is fhe now ? 
 Ulyf. You have told me yourfelf, in a former converfa- 
 tion, when I enquired about her, that (he is faithful to my 
 bed, and as fond of me now, after twenty years abfence, as 
 at the time when 1 left her to go to Troy. I left her in the 
 bloom of youth and beauty. How much muft her conft*ncy 
 have been tried fince that time ! how meritorious is her fide- 
 lity ! Shall I reward her with falfliood ? (hall I forget my Pe- 
 nelope, who can't forget me ; who has no pleafure fo dear to 
 her as my remembrance ? 
 
 Ctrce. Her love is preferved by the continual hope of ynur 
 fpeedy return. Take that hope from her. Let your com- 
 panions return, and let her know that you have fixed your 
 abode with me, that you have fixed it for ever. Let her know 
 that (he is free' to difpofc as (he pleafes of her heart and her 
 hand. Send my picture to her ; bid her compare it with her 
 
 own
 
 D I A L O G U E V. 277 
 
 own face. If all this does not cure her of the remains of her 
 paffion, if you don't hear of her marrying Eurymachus in a 
 twelvemonth, I underftand nothing of womankind. 
 
 Ulyf. O cruel goddefs ! why will you force me to tell you 
 truths I defire to conceal ? If by fuch unmerited, fuch barba- 
 rous ufage, I could lofe her heart, it would break mine. How 
 mould I be able to endure the torment of thinking, that I had 
 wronged fuch a wife ? what could make me amends for her 
 being no longer mine, for her being another's ? Don't frown, 
 Circe ; I muft own, (fince you will have me fpeak) I muft 
 own you could not. With all your pride of immortal beauty, 
 with all your magical charms to aflift thofe of nature, you are 
 not fo powerful a charmer as (he. You feel defire, and you 
 give it : but you have never felt love, nor can you infpire it. 
 How can I love one who would have degraded meintoabeaft? 
 Penelope raifed me into a hero. Her love ennobled, invigo- 
 rated, exalted my mind. She bid me go to the fiege of Troy, 
 though the parting with me was worfe than death to herfelf. 
 She bid me expofe myfelf there to all the perils of war among 
 the foremoft heroes of Greece, though her poor heart-funk 
 and trembled at every thought of thofe perils, and would have 
 given all its own blood to fave a drop of mine. Then there 
 was fuch a conformity in all our inclinations ! When Minerva 
 was teaching me the lefTons of wifdom, me delighted to be pre- 
 fent ; (he heard, me retained, me gave them back to me, 
 foftened and fweetened with the peculiar graces of her own 
 mind. When we unbent our thoughts with the charms of 
 poetry, when we read together the poems of Orpheus, Mu- 
 fseus, and Linus, with what tafte did (he difcern every excel- 
 lence in them ! My feelings were dull, compared to her's. 
 Shefeemed herfelf to be the Mufe who hadinfpired thofe verfeg, 
 and had tuned their lyres to infufe into the hearts of mankind 
 the love of wifdom and virtue, and the fear of the Gods. How 
 beneficent was (he, how tender to my people ! what care did 
 fhe take to inftrut them in all the finer elegant arts ; to re- 
 lieve the necelfitiesof the fick and aged ; to fuperintend the 
 education of children ; to do my fubje6ls every good office of 
 kind interceflion ; to lay before me their wants, to mediate for 
 thofe who were objects of mercy, to fue for thofe whodeferv- 
 ed the favours of the crown ! And (hall I banifh myfelf for 
 ever from fuch a confort ? mall I give up her fociety for the 
 brutal joys of a fenfual life, keeping indeed the form of a man, 
 buthavingloil thehuman foul, or at lead all its noble and god- 
 like powers? Oh Circe, itisimpofllble; Ican'tbearthe thought. 
 Ci fee. Be gone don't imagine that I afk you to ftay. 'The 
 i daughter of the fun is not fo mean fpirited, as to folici-t a mor- 
 T 3 tal
 
 27& DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 tal to fhare her happinefs with her. It is a happinefs which 
 I find you cannot enjoy. I pity and defpife you. All you have 
 faid feems to me a jargon of fentiments fitter for a filly woman 
 than a great man. Go, read ? and fpin too, if you pleafe, 
 with your wife. I forbid you to remain another day in my 
 ifland. You fhall have a fair wind to carry you from it. Af- 
 ter that, may every florm, that Neptune can raife, purfue 
 and overw helm you ! Be gone, 1 fay, quit my fight. 
 Ulyf. Great gcddefs, I obey but remember your oath. 
 
 DIALOGUE VI. 
 
 MERCURY An Englifh DUELLIST 
 A North- American SAVAGE. 
 
 ZW.TV /TERCURY, Charon's boat is on the other fide 
 A-Vx of the water. Allow me, before it returns, to 
 have lome converfation with the North-American Savage, 
 whom you brought hither with me. I never before faw one 
 of that fpecies. He looks very giim. Pray, fir, what is 
 your name ? I underftand you fpeak Englifh. 
 
 Sav. Yes, I learnt it in my childhood, having been bred 
 for fome years among the Englifh of New York. But, be- 
 fore I was a man, I returned to my valiant countrymen, the 
 Mohawks ; and having been viilainoufly cheated by one of 
 yours in the fale of fome rum, I never cared to have any thing 
 to do with them afterwards. Yet 1 took up the hatchet for 
 them with the reft of my tribe in the late war againft France, 
 and was killed while I was out upon a fcalping party. But I 
 died very well fatisfied : for my brethren were victorious; 
 and, before I was fhot, I had glorioufly fcalped feven men, 
 and five women and children. In a former war I had per- 
 formed ftill greater exploits. My name is the Bloody Bear : 
 it was given me to exprefs my fiercenefs and valour. 
 
 Duel. Bloody Bear, I refpe6t you, and am much your hum- 
 ble fervant. My name is Tom Pufhwell, very well known at 
 Arthur's. I am a gentleman by my birth, and by profeffion 
 a gamefter and man of honour. I have killed men in fair 
 fighting, in honourable fingle combat ; but don't underftand 
 cutting the throats of women and children. 
 
 Sav. Sir, that is our way of making war. Every nation 
 has its cuftoms. But, by the grimnefs of your countenance, 
 and that hole in your bread, I prefume you were killed, as I 
 was, in fome fcalping party. How happened it that your 
 enemy did not take off your fcalp ? 
 
 Duel. Sir, I was killed in a duel. A friend of mine had 
 lent me a fum of money. After tup or three year:, being in 
 
 great |
 
 D I A L O G U E VI. 279 
 
 great want himfelf, he aiked me to pay him. I thought his 
 demand, which was fomewhat peremptory, an affront to my 
 honour, and lent him a challenge. We met in Hyde-Park. 
 The fellow could not fence : 1 was abfolutely the adroiteft 
 fwordlman in England. So I gave him three or four wounds ; 
 but at laft he run upon me with fuch impetuofity, that he 
 put me out of my play, and I could not prevent him from 
 whipping me thro* the lungs. I died the next day, as a man of 
 honour thould, without any fnivelling figns of contrition or 
 repentance: and he will follow me foon ; for his furgeon has 
 declared his wounds to be mortal. It is faid, that his wife is 
 dead of grief, and that his family of feven children will be un- 
 done by his death. So I am well revenged, and that is a com- 
 fort. For my part, I had no wife.- I always hated mar- 
 riage : my whore will take good care of herfelf, and my chil- 
 dren are provided for at the Foundling hofpital. 
 
 Sav. Mercury, I won't go in a boat with that fellow. He 
 has murdered his countryman : he has murdered his friend : 
 I fay pcfitivel) , I won't go in a boat with that fellow. I will 
 fwim over the river : I can fwim like a duck. 
 
 Mer. Swim over the Styxl it muft not be done; it is 
 againft the laws of Pluto's empire. You muft go in the boat, 
 and be quiet. 
 
 Sav. Don't tell me of laws : I am a Savage : I value no 
 laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman : there are laws in 
 his country, and yet you fee he did not regard them. For 
 they could never allow him to kill his fellow-fubjeQ, in time 
 of peace, becaufe he afked him to pay a debt. I know indeed, 
 that the EngLifh area barbarious nation ; but they can't pof- 
 i iibly be fo brutal as to make fuch things lawful. 
 
 Mer. You reafon well againft htm. But how cornes it 
 1 that you are fo offended with murder; you, who have frequently 
 matfacred women in their fleep, and children in their cradles? 
 ' Sav. I killed none but my enemies : I never killed my own 
 countrymen : I never killed my friend : Here, take my blan- 
 i ket, and let it come over in the boat ; but fee that the muf- 
 ! derer does not fit upon it, or touch it. If he does, T will burn 
 ' it inftantiy in the fire I fee yonder. Farewell. I am deter- 
 mined to fwim over the water. 
 
 Mer. By this touch of my wand I deprive thee of all thy 
 I ftrength. Swim now if thou canft. 
 
 Sav. This is a potent enchanter. RefK re me my ftrength, 
 and I promife to obey thee. 
 
 Mer. I reflore it ; but be orderly, and do as I bid you: 
 oiherwife worfe will befall you. 
 
 t 4 Duel.
 
 s8o DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Duel. Mercury, leave him to me. I'll tutor him for you. 
 Sirrah Savage, doft thou pretend to be afhamed cf my com- 
 pany ? Doft thou know that I have kept the beft company in 
 England ? 
 
 Sav. I know thou art a fcoundrel Not pay thy debts I 
 kill thy friend who tent thee money for afking thee for it ! 
 Get out of my fight. I will drive thee into Styx. 
 
 Mer. Stop. 1 command thee. No violence. Talk to 
 htm calmly. 
 
 Sav. t muft obey thee. Well, fir, let me know what 
 merit you had, to introduce you into good company ?.what 
 could you do ? 
 
 Duel. Sir, I gamed, as I told you. Befides, I kept a good 
 table. I eat as well as any man either in Em land or France. 
 
 Sav. Eat! did you ever eat the liver of a Frenchman, or his 
 leg, or his fhoulder ! There is fine eating ! I have eat twenty. 
 My table was always vjellferved. My wife was efteemed the 
 beft cook for thedrefling of man's flefti in all North- America. 
 You will not pretend to compare your eating with mine ? 
 
 Duel. I danced very finely. 
 
 Sav. I'M dance with thee for thy ears. I can dance all day 
 long. I can dance the "Mar-dance with more fpirit than any 
 man of my nation. Let us fee thee begin it. How thou 
 ftandeft like a poft ! Has Mercury ftruck thee with his en- 
 feebling rod ? or art thou afhamed to let us fee how aukward 
 thou art ? If he would permit me, I would teach thee to dance 
 in a way thou haft never yet learnt. But what elfe canft thou 
 do, thou bragging rafcal ? 
 
 Duel. O heavens ! muft I bear this ! "What can I do wiih 
 this fellow ? I have neither fword, nor piftol. And his (hade 
 feems to be twice as ftrong as mine. 
 
 Mer. You muft anfwer his qucftions. It was your own j 
 defire to have a converfation with him. He is not well bred ; 
 but he will tell you fome truths which you muft neceflaiily 
 hear when you come before Rhadamanthus. He afked you ! 
 what you could do befides eating and dancing. 
 Duel. I fung very agreeably. 
 
 &fiv. Let me hear you fing your death fang, or the wafjjj 
 whoop. I challenge you to fing. Come, begin. The fel- 
 low is mute. Mercury, this is a liar. Fie has told us no- ] 
 thing but lies. Let me pull out his tongue. 
 
 Duel. The lie given me! and alas! I dare not refent it. j 
 What an indelible difgrace to the family of the Pufnweiii! I 
 This indeed is damnation. 
 
 Mer.
 
 D I A L O G U E VI. 281 
 
 Mer. Here, Charon, take thefe two Savages to your care. 
 How far the barbarifmof the Mohawk will excufe his horrid 
 ab, I leave Minos to judge. But what can be faid for the 
 [other, for the Englifhman ? The cuftom of duelling ? A 
 bad excufe at the beft ! but here it cannot avail. The fpirit 
 ithat urged him to draw his fword againft his friend is not that 
 of honour ; it is the fpirit of the Furies, and to them he mud 
 igo. 
 
 Sai}. If he is to be punifhed for his wickednefs, turn him 
 over to me. I perfectly underftand the art of tormenting. 
 Sirrah, I begin my work with this kick on your breech. 
 
 Duel. Oh my honour, my honour, to what infamy att 
 thou fallen ! 
 
 DIALOGUE VII. 
 
 PLINY THE ELDER. PLINY THE YOUNGER. 
 
 Plin. Eld. nr^HE account that you give me, nephew, of 
 JL your behaviour *, amidft the terrors and 
 perils that accompanied the firfl eruption of Vefuvius, does 
 not pleafe me much. There was more of vanity in it than of 
 true magnanimity. Nothing is great that is unnatural and 
 affected. When the earth was fhaking beneath you, when 
 the whole heaven was darkened with fulphurous clouds; when 
 all. nature feemed falling into it> final deftru&ion, to be 
 reading Livy, and making extrafis, was an abfurd affecta- 
 tion. To meet danger with courage, is manly ; but to be 
 infenfible of it, is brutal ftupidity ; and to pretend infenfibi- 
 lity, where it cannot be fuppofed, is ridiculous falfenefF. 
 When you afterwards refufed to leave your aged mother, and 
 fave yourfelf without her, you indeed acted nobly. It was 
 alfo becoming a Roman to keep up her fpirits, amidft all the 
 horrors of that tremendous fcene, by Chewing yourfelf undif- 
 mayed. But the real merit and glory of this part of your 
 behaviour is funk by the other, which gives an air of often- 
 tation and vanity to the whole. 
 
 Plin.Toung. That vulgar minds mould confider my at- 
 tention to my ftudies in fuch a conjuncture as unnatural and 
 iafft6ted, I fhould not much wonder. But that you would 
 
 me it as fuch, I did not apprehend ; you, whom no bufmefs 
 could feparate from the Mufes ; you, who approached nearer 
 to the fiery dorm, and died by the fuffocating heat of the 
 vapour. 
 
 * V. C. Pljnii Epift. 1. v:j. ep, 20.
 
 282 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Plin. Eld. I died in doing my duty *. Let me recall to 
 your remembrance all the particulars, and then you fhall 
 judge yourfelf on the difference of your behaviour and mine. 
 I was the praefecl of the Roman fleet which then lay at Mi- 
 lenum. On the firft account I received of the very unufual 
 cloud that appeared in the air, I ordered a veffel to carry me 
 out, to forne diftance from the fhore, that I might the better 
 obierve the phoenomenon, and endeavour to dilcover its na- 
 ture and caufe. This I did, as a philofopher ; and it was a 
 curiofity proper and natural to an inquifitive mind. I offered 
 to take you with me, and furtly you mould have gone ; for 
 Livy might have been read at any other time, and fuch 
 fpe&acles are not frequent. When I came out from my 
 houfe, I found all the inhabitants of Mifenum flying to the 
 fea. That 1 might affift them, and all others who dwelt on 
 the coaft, I immediately commanded the whole fleet to put 
 out, and failed with it all round the bay of Naples, fleering 
 particularly to thofe parts of the fhore where the danger was 
 greateft, and from whence the affrighted people were endea- 
 vouring to efcape with the utmoft trepidation. Thus I hap- 
 pily preserved fome thoufands of lives ; noting at the fame 
 time, with an unfhaken compofure and freedom of mind, 
 the feveral phcenomena of the eruption. Towards night, 
 as we approached to the foot of Mount Vefuvius, our gallies 
 were covered with afhes, the fhowers of which grew conti- 
 nually hotter and hotter ; then pumice ftones, and burnt and 
 broken pyrites, began to fall on our heads; and we wer6 
 ftopt by the cbflacles which the ruins of the vulcano had 
 fuddenly formed, by falling into the fea, and almoft filling it 
 up, on that part of the ccaft. I then commanded my pilot 
 to (leer to the villa of my friend Pomponianus, which, yott 
 know, was fituated in the inmoft recefs of the bay. Thfc 
 wind was very favourable to carry me thither, but would not 
 allow him to put off from the more, as he was defirous to 
 have done. We were therefore conflrained to pafs the n : ght 
 in his houfe. The family watched, and I flcpt ; till the 
 Heaps of pumice ftones, which inceffantly fell from the clouds, 
 that had by this time been impelled to that fide of the bay, 
 rofe fo high in the area of the apartment I lay in, that, if I 
 had fta'd any longer, I could not have got out; and the 
 earthquakes were fb violent, as to threaten every moment the 
 fall of the houfe. We therefore thought it more fafe to go 
 into the open air, guarding our heads, as well as we were 
 
 V.Epift. 1 6. 1. vi. 
 
 able,
 
 DIALOGUE VTI. 283 
 
 able, with pillows tied upon them. The wind continuing 
 contrary, and the fea very tough, we all remained on the fhore, 
 [till the delcent of a fulphurous and fiery vapour fuddenly op- 
 prefled my weak lungs, and put an end to my lite. In all this 
 I hope that I acfced as the duty of my ftation required, and 
 with true magnanimity. But on this occafion, and in many 
 other parts of your conduct, I muft fay, my dear nephew, 
 I there was a mixture of vanity blended with your virtue, which 
 impaired and difgraced it. Without that, you would have 
 been one of the worthieft men whom Rome has ever pro- 
 jduced : for none excelled you in fincere integrity of heart 
 and greatnefs of fentiments. Why wculd you lofe the fub- 
 ftance of glory, by feeking the fhadow ? Your eloquence 
 Ihad, I think, the lame fault as your manners : it was gene- 
 rally too uffefted. You profcfled to make Cicero your guide 
 and pattern. But when one reads his panegyric upon Julius 
 Csefar, in his oration for Marcellus, and your's upon Tra- 
 jan ; the firrt feems the genuine language of truth and na- 
 ture, raifed and dignified with all the majefty of the mofl 
 fublime oratory : the latter appears the harangue of a florid 
 rhetorician, more defirous to Jhine, and to fet off his own 
 wit, than to extol the great man whofe virtues he was praifing. 
 Pliny Toung. I will not queftion your judgement either of 
 my life or my writings. They might both have been better, 
 if I had not been too felicitous to render them perfect. It is 
 perhaps fome excufe for the affectation of my ftyle, that it 
 Was the faihion of the age in which I wrote. Even the elo- 
 quence of Tacitus, however nervous and fublime, was not 
 unaffected. Mine indeed was more diffufe, and the orna- 
 ments of it were more tawdry ; but his laboured concifenefs, 
 the conftant glow of his dt&ion, and pointed brilliancy of 
 his fentences, were no lefs unnatural. One principal caufe 
 of this I fuppofe to have been, that as we defpaired of excel- 
 ling the two great matters of oratory, Cicero and Livy, in 
 their own manner, we took up another, which, to many, 
 appeared more mining, and gave our compofitions a more 
 (original air. But it Is mortifving to me to fay much on this 
 jfubjeQ. Permit me therefore to refume the contemplation 
 Jof that on which our converfation turned before. What a 
 idireful calamity was the eruption of Vefuvius, which you 
 ;have been defcribing ! Don't you remember the beamy of 
 that fine coaft, and of the mountain itfelf, Ix fore it was ten 
 'with the violence of thofe internal fires, that forced their 
 way through ils furface ? The foot of it was covered with 
 ;corn fields and rich meadows, interfperfed with fplendid vi!- 
 llas, and magnificent towns : the fid-ts of it were cloathrd 
 
 with
 
 284 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 with the bed vines of Italy. How quick, how unexpected, 
 how terrible was the change ! All was at once overwhelmed, 
 with afhes, cinders, broken rocks, and fiery torrents, prefent- 
 ing to the eye the moft difmal fcene of horror and delolation ! 
 Plin. Eld. You paint it very truly. But has it never oc- 
 curred to your philofophical mind, that this change is a ftrik- 
 ing emblem of that which mud happen, by the natural courfe 
 of things, to every rich, luxurious Irate ! While the inhabi- 
 tants of it are funk in voluptuoufnefs, while all is fouling 
 around them, and they imagine that no evil, no danger is 
 nigh, the latent feeds of deftru&ion are fermenting within ; 
 till, breaking out on a fudden, they lay wafte all their opu- 
 lence, all their boafted delights ; and leave them a fad monu- 
 ment of the fatal effects of internal tempefts and convulfions. 
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 FERNANDO CORTEZ WILLIAM PENN. 
 
 Cortez. TS it pofllble, William Penn, that you fhould fe- 
 
 J_ rioufly compare your glory with mine ! the 
 
 planter of a fmall colony in North- America prefume to vfl 
 
 with the conqueror of the great Mexican empire ! 
 
 Penn. Friend, I pretend to no glory, the LORD preferve 
 me from it ! All glory is bis ; but this I fay, that 1 was bit 
 injlrument in a more glorious work than that performed by 
 thee : incomparably more glorious. 
 
 Cortez. Deft thou not know, William Penn, that with lefd 
 than fix hundred Spanifh foot, eighteen horfe, and a fewj 
 fmall pieces of cannon, I fought and defeated innumerable] 
 armies of very brave men, dethroned an emperor who had! 
 been raifed to the throne by his valour, and excelled all hta 
 countrymen in the fcience of war, as much as they, excelled! 
 all the reft of the Wefl Indian rations ? that I made him my! 
 prifoner in his own capitol ; and, after he had been depofcd 
 and (lain by his fubje&s, vanquifhed and took Guatimczin,] 
 his fucceflbr, and accomplifhed my conqueft of the whold 
 empire of Mexico, which I loyally annexed to the Spanijw 
 crown ? Doft thou not know, that, in doing thefe wonderw 
 ats, I (hewed as much courage as Alexander the Great, as 
 much prudence as Caefar? that, by my policy, I ranged unH 
 der my banners the powerful commonwealth of Tlafcala,! 
 and brought them to aiM me in fubduing the Mexicans, tho'j 
 with the lofs of their own beloved independence ? and that,l 
 to consummate- my glory, when the governor of Cuba, Vc- 
 la^quez., would have taken my command from me, nnd fa- 1 
 crificed me to his envy ^nd jealoufy, I drew from him all his 
 
 forces,!
 
 DIALOGUE Vlfl. s8 5 
 
 otces, and joined them to my own, (hewing my ft If as fu- 
 >erior to all other Spaniards as I was to the Indians ? 
 
 Penn. I know very well that thou waft as fitrce as a lion, 
 md as fubtle as a ferpent. The devil, perhaps, may place thee 
 is high in bis black lift of heroes as Alexander or Csefar. It 
 s not my bufinefs to interfere with him in fettling thy rank, 
 3ut hark thee, friend Cortex What right hadft thou, or 
 lad the king of Spain himfelf, to the Mexican empire ? An- 
 wer me that, if thou canft. 
 Cortez. The pope gave it to my matter. 
 Penn. The devil offered to give our LORD all the king- 
 |0ms of the earth ; and I fuppofe the pope, as bis vicar^ 
 ave his mafter this : in return for which he Jell down and 
 tor Dipped him, like an idolater as he was. But fuppofe the 
 gh prieftof Mexico had taken it into his head to give Spain 
 > Motezuma, would his grant have been good ? 
 
 Cortez. Ttiefe are queftions of cafuiflry, which it is not 
 ie bufinefs of a foldier to decide. We leave that to gownf- 
 nen. But pray, Mr. Penn, what right had you to the pto- 
 "nce you fettled ? 
 
 Penn. An honeft right of fair purchafe. 'We gave the na- 
 ve favages fome things they wanted^ aftd.they in return 
 ave us lands they did not want. All was amicably agreed 
 ID, not a drop of blood (hed to ftain our acquifition. 
 Cortez. I am afraid there was a little fraud in the pur* 
 hafe. Thy followers, William Penn, are faid to think 
 heating in a quiet and fober way no mortal fin. 
 
 Penn. The faints are always calumniated by the ungodly. 
 Jut it was a fight which an angel might contemplate with 
 dight, to behold the colony I fettled ! to fee us living with 
 Indians like innocent lambs, and taming the ferocity of 
 heir barbarous manners by the gentlenefs of ouYs ! to fee the 
 phole country, which before was an uncultivated wildernefs, 
 (Cndered as fertile and fair as the Garden of God ! O Per- 
 ando Cortez ! didft thou leave the great empire of Mexico 
 ',1 that (late? No, thou hadft turned thofe delightful and po- 
 pulous regions into a defert, a defert flooded with blood. Deft 
 hou not remember that moft infernal fcene* when the nobk 
 mperor Guatimozin was ftretched out by thy foldiers upon 
 tot burning coals, to make him difcover into what part of thtf 
 ake of Mexico he had thrown the royal treafures ? are not 
 iis groans ever founding in tiie ears of thy conference ? do 
 ot they rend thy hard heart, and ftrike thee with more hor- 
 or than the yells of the Furies ? 
 
 i Cortez. Atas ! I was not prefent when 'that dire a6t was 
 one. Had 1 been there, I would hdve forbidden it. M'J 
 ature was mild.
 
 286 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Penn. Thou waft the captain of that band of robbers, who! 
 did this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn fromj 
 thy counfels and conduct enabled them to commit it : and thy I 
 ikill faved them afterwards from the vengeance that was duel 
 to fo enormous a crime. The enraged Mexicans would have! 
 properly puniihed them for it, if they had not had thee for] 
 their general, thou lieutenant of Satan. 
 
 Cortez. The faints I find can rail, William Penn. But 
 how do you hope to preferve this admirable colony which! 
 you have fettled? Your people, you tell me, live like inno-\ 
 cent lambs. Are there no wolves in North America to de-j 
 vour thofe lambs ? But if the Americans mould continue in 
 perpetual peace with all your fucceflbrs there, the French \ 
 will not. Are the inhabitants of Pennfylvania to make war] 
 againft them with prayers and preaching? If fo, that garden i 
 ot GOD, which you fay you have planted, will undoubtedly t| 
 be their prey, and they will take from you your property, n 
 your laws, and your religion. 
 
 Penn. The LORD'S will be done ! The LORD will defend i 
 us, againft the rage of our enemies, if it be his good pleafure*i 
 
 Cortez. Is this the wifdom of a great legiflator ? I have?! 
 heard fome of your countrymen compare you to Solon ! did] 
 Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and leave thofcl 
 laws and that people at the mercy of every invader? The 
 firft bufinefs of legiflature is, to provide a military ftrength: 
 that may defend the whole fyftem. If a houfe is built in a;] 
 land of robbers, without a gate to (hut, or a bolt or bar to 
 fecure it, what avails it how well-proportioned, or how com-r 
 modtous, the architecture of it may be? Is it richly furnim*" 
 ed within ? the more it will tempt the hands of violence and; 
 of rapine to feize its wealth. The world, William Penn, is 
 all a land of robbers. Any ftate or commonwealth creeled > 
 therein muft be well fenced and fecured by good military in*; 
 ftitutions ; or> the happier it is in all other relpefls, th$' 
 greater will be its danger, the more fpeedy its deftruction.i 
 Perhaps the neighbouring Engliih colonies may for awhile 
 protect your's : but that precarious fecurity cannot alwajw 1 
 preferve you. Your plan of government muft be changed*! 
 or your colony will be loft. What I have faid is alfo appli" 
 cable to Great Britain itfelf. If an increafe of its wealth be 
 not accompanied with an increafe of its force, that wealth 
 will become the prey of fome of the neighbouring nations* 
 in which the martial fpirit is more prevalent than the com- 
 mercial. And whatever praife may be due to its civil infti- 
 tutions, if they are not guarded by a wife fyftem of military 
 policy, they will be found of no value, being unable to prevent! 
 their own diflolution. Perm.
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 287 
 
 Penn. Thefe are fuggeftions of human wifdom. The 
 doctrines I held were injpired ; they came from above. 
 
 Cortez. It is blafphemy to fay, that any folly could come 
 from the Fountain of Wifdom. Whatever is inconfiftent 
 with the great laws of nature, and with the neceflary ftate 
 of human fociety, cannot poflibly have been infpired by GOD. 
 Self-defence is as neceflary to nations as to men. And (hall 
 particulars have a right which nations have not ? True reli- 
 gion, William Penn, is the perfection of reafon. Fanati- 
 cifm is the difgrace, the deftrufition of reafon. 
 
 Penn. Though what thou fayeft mould be true, it does 
 rot come well from thy mouth. A Papift talk of reafon ! 
 Go to the Inquifition, and tell them of reafon, and the great 
 laws of nature. They will broil thee, as thy (oldiers broiled 
 the unhappy Guattmozin. Why doft thou turn pale ? Is it 
 [the name of the Inquifition, or the name of Guatimozin, 
 [that troubles and affrights thee ? O wretched man ! who 
 madeft thyfelf a voluntary inftrument to carry into a new- 
 jifcovered world that hellifh tribunal ! Tremble and (hake 
 svhen thou thinkeft, that every murder the inquifitors have 
 committed, every torture they have infli&ed on the innocent 
 Indians, is originally owing to thee. Thou muft anfwer to 
 GOD for all their inhumanity, for all their injuftice. What 
 wouldft thou give to part with the renown of thy conquefts, 
 and to have a confcience as pure and undifturbed as mine ? 
 
 Cortez. I feel the force of thy words. They pierce me 
 ike daggers. I can never, never be happy, while I retain 
 any memory of the ills I have caufed. Yet I thought I did 
 right. I thought I laboured to advance the glory of GOD, 
 land propagate in the remoteft parts of the earth his holy Re- 
 ligion. He will be merciful to well-defigning and pious er- 
 fror. Thou alfo wih have need of that gracious indulgence ; 
 though not, I own, fo much as I. 
 
 \ Penn. Afk thy heart, whether ambition was not thy real 
 motive, and zeal the pretence ? 
 
 I Cortez. Afk thine, whether thy zeal had no worldly views, 
 and whether thou didft believe all the nonfenfe of the fe&, at 
 :)the head of which thou waft pleafed to become a legiflator. 
 Adieu ! Self-examination requires retirement. 
 
 DIALOGUE IX. 
 
 MARCUS PORTIUS CATO. MESSALLA CORVINUS. 
 
 ! Cato. /^\H Meflalla ! is it then poflible that what tome 
 
 V^/ of our countrymen tell me fhould be true? Is 
 
 It poflible that you could live the courtier of Octavius, that
 
 2 88 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 you could accept of employments and honours from him, 
 from the tyrant of your country ; you, the brave, the noble- 
 minded, the virtuous Meflalla ; you, whom, I remember, 
 my fon-in-law Brutus has frequently extolled, as the moft 
 promifing youth in Rome, tutored by philofophy, trained up 
 in arms, fcorning all thole foft, effeminate pleafures, that re- 
 concile men to an eafy and indolent fervitude, fit for all the 
 roughed taflcs of honour and virtue, fit to live or to die a 
 freeman ? 
 
 Mejfalla. Marcus Cato, I revere both your life and your 
 death : but the laft, permit me to tell you, did no good to 
 your country ; and the former would have done more, if you 
 could have mitigated a little the fternnefs of your virtue, I 
 will not fay of your pride. For my own part, I adhered; 
 with conftant integrity and unwearied zeal to the republic,! 
 while the republic ^xifted. I. fought for her at Philippi, un-; 
 der the only commander, who, if he had conquered, would 
 have conquered for her, not for himfelf. When he wasj 
 dead, I faw that nothing remained to my country but the 
 choice of a mafter. I chofe the beft. 
 
 Cato. The beft ! What ! a man who had broken all 
 laws, who had violated all trufts, who had led the armies d! 
 the commonwealth againil Antony, and then joined with 
 him and that fottifh traitor Lepidus, to fet up a Triumvirate 
 more execrable by far than either of the former ; who fhed 
 the beft blood in Rome by an inhuman profcription ; mur- 
 dered even his own guardian ; murdered Cicero, to whofe 
 confidence, too improvidently given, he owed all his power! 
 Was this the mafter you chofe ? could you bring your tongut 
 to give him the name of Auguftus ? could you ftoop to bef 
 confulmips and triumphs from him ? Oh lhame to virtue \ 
 O degeneracy of Rome I To what infamy are her fons, ha 
 nobleft fons, fallen ! The thought of it pains me more that 
 the wound that I died of: it ftabs my foul. 
 
 Meffalla. Moderate, Cato, the vehemence of your indigv 
 nation. There has always been too much paflion mixed wilt 
 your virtue. The enthufiafm you are poiTeiTed with is a nobn 
 one ; but it difturbs your judgment. Hear me with patiendra 
 and with the tranquillity that becomes a philofopher. It is truftj 
 that Octavius had done all you have fa'.d: but it is no lefs true! 
 that in our circumftances he was the beft mafter Rome couiJ 
 chufe. His mind was fitted by nature for empire. His unj 
 derftand'mg was clear, and ftrong. His palTions were cool, and 
 under the abfolute command of his reafon. His name gavjj 
 him an authority over the troops and the people, which nl 
 other Roman could poflefs in an equal degree. He ufed tha 
 
 author*!
 
 D I A L O G U E IX. 289 
 
 Authority to reftrain the excefles of both, which it was no 
 (onger in the power of the fenate to reprefs, nor of any other 
 general, or magiftrate in the ftate. He reftored difcipline in 
 pur armies, the firft means of falvation, without which no 
 egal government could have been formed or fupported. He 
 voided all odious and invidious names. He maintained and 
 efpected thofe which time and long habits had endeared.to the 
 loman people. He permitted a generous liberty of fpeech. 
 le treated the nobles of Pompey's party as well as thofe of his 
 ather's, if they did not themfelves, for factious purpofes, keep 
 ip the diftindion. He formed a plan of government, mode- 
 ate, decent, refpedable, which left the fenate its majefty, and 
 bme of its power. He reftored vigour and fpirit to the laws; 
 e made new and good ones for the reformation of manners ; 
 e enforced their execution ; he governed the empire with 
 inity, juftice, and glory : he humbled the pride of the Par- 
 Hans ; he broke the fiercenefs of the barbarous nations : he 
 ave to his country, exhaufted and languishing with the great 
 rfs of blood, which fhe had fuftained in the courfe of fo many 
 vil wars, the blefling of peace ; a blefling which was become 
 3 neceflary for her, that without it fhe could enjoy no other, 
 n doing thefe things, I acknowledge, he had my afliftance. I 
 m prouder of it, and I think I can juftify myfelf more effec- 
 lally to my country, than if I had died by my own hand at 
 hilippi. Believe me, Cato, it is better to do fame good than 
 ) project a great deal. A little pradicable virtue is of more 
 fe to lociety than the moft fublime theory, or the beft prin- 
 iples of government ill applied. 
 
 CATO. Yet I muft think it was beneath the charafter of 
 leflalla to join in fupporting a government, which, though 
 loured and mitigated, was ftill a tyranny. Had you not 
 stter have gone into a voluntary exile, where you would not 
 aye feen the face of the tyrant, and where you might have 
 aietly pradifed thofe private virtues, which are all that the 
 xls require from good men in certain fituations ? 
 I MESS. No: I did much more good by continuing at Rome, 
 fad Auguftus required of me any thing bafe, any thing fervile, 
 jwould have gone into exile, I would have died, rather than 
 P it. But he refpeded my virtue, he refpefted my dignity ; 
 |2 treated me as well as Agrippa, or as Maecenas, with this 
 iftinction alone, that he never employed my fword but 
 l^ainft foreign nations, or the old enemies of the republic. 
 
 CATO. It muft, I own, have been a pleafure to be em- 
 [oyed againft Antony, that monfter of vice, who plotted the
 
 290 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 ruin of liberty, and the raifing of himfelf to fovereign power, 
 amidft the riot of Bacchanals, and in the embraces of harlots : 
 who, when he had attained to that power, delivered it up to 
 a lafctvious queen, and would have made an Egyptian ftrum- 
 pet the miftrefs of Rome, if the battle of Adium had not 
 faved us from that laft of misfortunes. 
 
 MESS. In that battle I had a confiderable (hare. So I had 
 in encouraging the liberal arts and fciences, which Auguftus 
 protected. Under his judicious patronage the Mufes made 
 Rome their capital feat. It would have pleafed you to have 
 known Virgil, Horace, Tibullus, Ovid, Livy, and many 
 more, whole names will be illuftrious to all generations. 
 
 CATO. I underftand you, Meflalla. Your Auguftus and 
 you, after the ruin of our liberty, made Rome a Greek city, j 
 ''an academy of fine wits, another Athens under the govern- \ 
 ment of Demetrius Phalareus. I had much rather have feen 
 her under Fabricius and Curius, and her other honeft old ( 
 confuls, who could not read. 
 
 MESS. Yet to thefe writers me will owe as much of her 
 glory as me did to thofe heroes. I could fay more, a great 
 deal more, on the happinefs of the mild dominion of Auguftus. j 
 I might even add, that the vaft extent of the empire, the fac- 
 tions of the nobility, and the corruption of the people, which 
 no laws under the ordinary magiftrates of the ftate were able 
 to reftrain, feemed neceflarily to require fome change in the 
 government : that Cato himfelf, had he remained upon earth, ; 
 could have done us no good, unlefs he would have yielded to j 
 become our prince. But I fee you confider me as a deferter 
 from the republic, and an apologift for a tyrant. I therefore 
 leave you to the company of thofe ancient Romans, for whofe 
 fociety you were always much fitter than for that of your con- 
 temporaries. Cato Ihould have lived with Fabricius and 
 Curius, not with Pompey and Caefar. 
 
 DIALOGUE X. 
 
 CHRISTIN A,Queen of Sweden. Chancellor OX^ENSTIERN., 
 
 CHRIST. "VTOU feemto avoid me, Oxenftiern ; and, now, 
 I we are met, you don't pay me the reverence . 
 that is due to your queen! Have you forgotten that I was, 
 your fovereign ? 
 
 OXEN.I
 
 D I A L O G U E X. 291 
 
 OXEN. I am not your fubjecl here, madam ; but you have 
 forgotten, that you yourfelf broke that bond, and freed me 
 from my allegiance, many years before you died, by abdi- 
 cating the crown againft my advice and the inclination of 
 your people. Reverence here is paid only to virtue. 
 
 CHRIST. I fee you would mortify me, if it were in your 
 power, for acting againft your advice. But my fame does 
 not depend upon your judgment. All Europe admired the 
 jreatnefs of my mind in refigning a crown, to dedicate myfelf 
 2ntirely to the love of the fciences and the fine arts : things 
 3f which you had no tafte in barbarous Sweden, the realm 
 >f Goths and Vandals. 
 
 OXEN. There is hardly any mind too great for a crown ; 
 )ut there are many too little. Are you fure, madam, it was 
 nagnanimity, that caufed you to fly from the government of 
 i kingdom, which your anceftors, and particularly your he- 
 oic father, Guftavus, had ruled with fo much glory? 
 
 CHRIST. Am I fure of it ? Yes : and to confirm my 
 
 iwn judgment, I have that of many learned men and beaux 
 Iprits of all countries, who have celebrated my a<5Uon as the 
 'erfe&ion of heroifm. 
 
 OXEN. Thofe beaux efprits judged according to their pre- 
 ominant pafllon. I have heard young ladies exprefs their ad- 
 liration of Mark Antony for heroically leaving his fleet at 
 le battle of Adium, to follow his miftrefs. Your paflion 
 >r literature had the fame effea upon you. But why did 
 ot you indulge it in a manner more becoming your birth and 
 ink ? why did not you bring the Mufes to Sweden, inftead 
 f deferting that kingdom to feek them in Rome ? For a 
 rince to encourage and protect arts and fciences, and mdVe 
 Specially to inftrucl: an illiterate people, and infpire them 
 ith knowledge, politenefs, and fine tafte, is indeed an ad 
 
 true greatnefs. 
 
 CHRIST. The Swedes were too grofs to be refined by 
 y culture, which I could have given to their ,dull, their 
 tlf-fro7.en fouls. Wit and genius require the influence of a 
 ore Southern climate. 
 
 [OXEN. The Swedes too grofs! No, madam: not even 
 e Ruffians are too grofs to be refined, if they had a prince 
 
 inftruct them. 
 
 .CHRIST. It was too tedious a work for the vivacity of my 
 Inper to polim bears .into men : I mould have died of the 
 een before I had made any proficiency in it. My defire was 
 
 fhinc among thofe who' were qualified to judge of my ta- 
 
 ;ts. At Paris, at Rome, I had the glory of Ihewing the 
 
 U 2 French
 
 292 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 French and Italian wits, that the North could produce one not 
 inferior to them. They beheld me with wonder. The ho- 
 mage I had received in my palace at Stockholm was paid to 
 my dignity : that which I drew from the French and Roman 
 academies was paid to my talents. How much more glorious, 
 how much more delightful to an elegant and rational mind, 
 was the latter than the former ! Could you once have felt the 
 joy, the tranfport of my heart, when I faw the greateft au- 
 thors, and all the celebrated artifts, in the moft learned and 
 civilized countries of Europe, bringing their works to me, 
 and fubmitting the merit of them to my decifions ; when I 
 faw the philofophers, the rhetoricians, the poets, making my 
 judgement the ftandard of their reputation ; you Vould not 
 wonder that I preferred the empire of wit to any other empire. 
 
 OXEN. O great Guftavus ! my ever honoured, my adored 
 matter! O greateft of kings, greateft in valour, in virtue, in 
 wifdom, with what indignation muft thy foul, enthroned in 
 heaven, have looked down on thy unworthy, thy degenerate 
 daughter ! With what fhame muft thou have feen her ram- 
 bling about from court to court, deprived of her royal digni- 
 ty, debafed into a pedant, a witling, a fmatterer in fculpture 
 and painting, reduced to beg or buy flattery from each needy 
 rhetorician, or hireling poet ! I weep to think on this ftain, 
 this diflionourable ftain, to thy illuftrious blood! And yet 
 would to GOD ! would to GOD ! this was all the pollution 
 it has fuffered ! 
 
 CHRIST. Dareft thou, Oxenftiern, impute any blemifli 
 to my honour ? 
 
 OXEN. Madam, the world will fcarce refpect the frailties 
 of queens when they are on their thrones ; much lefs when 
 they have voluntarily degraded themfelves to the level ot the 
 vulgar. And if fcandalous tongues have unjuftly afperfed 
 their fame, the way to clear it is not by an ajfajjination. ^ 
 
 CHRIST. Oh! that I were alive again, and reftored to my 
 throne, that I might punifh the infolence of this hoary trai- 
 tor ! But fee ! he leaves me, he turns his back upon m( 
 with cool contempt ! Alas ! do I not deferve this fcorn ? Ir 
 fpite of myfelf I mud confefs that I do. O vanity, hov 
 fhort-lived are the pleafures thou beftoweft ! I was thy vo 
 tary : thou waft the god for whom I changed my religion 
 For thee I forfook my country and my throne. What com 
 penfation have I gained for all thefe Sacrifices, fo lavifhly, i- 
 imprudently made? Some puffs of incenfe from authors, wfr 
 thought their flattery due to the rank I had held, or hope 
 to advance themfelves by my recommendation, or, at befl 
 
 over-rate
 
 D I A L O G U E XL 293 
 
 over-rated my paflion for literature, and praifed me, to raife 
 the value of thofe talents with which they were endowed. 
 But in the efteem of wife men I ftand very low ; and * their 
 * efteem alone is the true meafure of glory.' Nothing, I 
 perceive, can give the mind a lafting joy, but the confciouf- 
 nefs of having performed our duty in that {ration, which it 
 has pleafed'the divine Providence to aifign to us. The glory of 
 (virtue is folid and eternal : all other will fade away like a thin 
 jvapoury cloud, on which the cafual glance of. fome faint beams 
 
 f light has fuperficially imprinted their weak and tranfient 
 
 :olours. 
 
 DIALOGUE XL 
 
 TITUS VESPASIANUS. PUBLIUS CORNELIUS SCIPIO 
 AFRIC ANUS. 
 
 Scipio, I can't give place to you in this. In 
 other refpe&s I acknowledge myfelf your inferior, 
 hough I was emperor of Rome, and you only her conful. I 
 hink your triumph over Carthage more glorious than mine over 
 udea : but in that I gained over love, I muft efteem myfelf 
 uperior to you, though your generofity with regard to the 
 .air Celtiberian, your captive, has been celebrated fo highly. 
 I SCIP. Fame has been then unjuft to your merit: for little 
 to faid of the continence of Titus : but mine has been the fa- 
 I'ourite topic of eloquence in every age and country. 
 I TIT. It has: and in particular your great hiftorian Livy 
 ; as poured' forth all the ornaments of his admirable rhetoric 
 a embellifh and dignify that part of your ftory. I had a great 
 tiftorian too, Cornelius Tacitus : but either from the brevity 
 /hich he affe&ed in writing, or from the feverity of his na- 
 Ure, which, never having felt the paflion of love, thought 
 ;ie fubduing of it too eafy a victory to deferve great enco- 
 ; iiums, he has beftowed but three lines upon my parting 
 /ith Berenice, which coft me more pain, and greater ef- 
 prts of mind, than the conqueft of Jerufalem. 
 
 SCIP. I wifh to hear from yourfelf the hiftory of that part- 
 ig, and what could make it fo hard and painful to you. 
 
 TIT. While I ferved in Paleftine under the aufpices of my 
 tther, Vefpafian, I became acquainted with Berenice, fifter to 
 ;ing Agrippa, and who was hevfelf a queen in one of thofe Eaft- 
 ;~n countries. She was the mod beautiful woman in Afia ; but 
 
 fhe
 
 294 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 (he had graces more irrefiftible ftill than her beauty. She had all 
 the infmuation and wit of Cleopatra, without her coquetry. I 
 loved her, and was beloved : (he loved my perfon, not my 
 greatnefs. Her tendernefs, her fidelity, fo enflamed my pafllon 
 for her, that I gave her a promife of marriage. 
 
 SCIPIO. What do I hear ? A Roman fenator promife to 
 marry a queen ! 
 
 TITUS. I expected, Scipio, that your ears would be offend- 
 ed with the found of fueh a match. But confider that Rome 
 was very different in my time from Rome' in your's. The fe- 
 rocious pride of our ancient republican fenators had bent itfelf 
 to the obfequious complaifance of a court. Berenice made no 
 doubt, and I flattered myfelf, that it would not be inflexible 
 in this point alone. But we thought it neceffary to defer the 
 completion of our wifhes till the death of my father. On that 
 event the Roman Empire, and (what I knew me valued more) 
 my handy became due to her, according to my engagements. 
 
 SCIPIO. The Roman empire due to a Syrian queen! Oh 
 Rome, how art thou fallen ! Accurfed be the memory of Oc-r 
 tavius Caefar, who, by opprefling its liberty, fo lowered the 
 majefty of the republic, that a brave and virtuous Roman, in 
 whom was vetted all the power of that mighty ftate, could en- 
 tertain fuch a thought ! But did you find the fenate and people 
 fo fervile, fo loft to all fenfe of their honour and dignity, as to 
 affront the great genius of imperial Rome, and the eyes of her 
 tutelary gods, the eyes of Jupiter Capitolinus, with the fight 
 of a queen, an Afiatic queen, on the throne of the Caefars ? 
 
 TITUS. I did not; they judged of it as you, Scipio, judge} 
 they detefted, theydifdained it. In vain did I urge to fome parti-? 
 cular friends, who reprefented to me the fenfe of the fenate and 
 people, that a Meffalina, a Poppaea, were a much greater dif- 
 honour to the throne of the Caefars than a virtuous foreign 
 princefs.* Their prejudices were unconquerable; I faw it 
 would be impofllble for me to remove them. But I might have 
 ufed my authority to filence their murmurs. A liberal donative 
 to the foldiers,by whom I was fondly beloved, would have fe- 
 cured their fidelity, and 'confequently would have forced the 
 fenate and people to yield to my inclination. Berenice knew 
 this, and with'tears implored me not to facrifice her happinefs 
 and my own to an unjuft prepofTefllon. Shall I own it to you, 
 Publius ? My heart not only pitied her, but acknowledged the 
 truth and folidity of her reafons. Yet fo much did I abhor the 
 idea of tyranny, fo much refpe6t did I pay to the fentiments of 
 
 my 
 
 * The charafter of Berenice In this dialogue is conformable to 
 the idea given of her by Racine, not by Jofephus.
 
 D I A L O G U E XI. 295 
 
 my fubjeQs, that I determined to feparate myfelf from her for 
 ;cver, rather than force either the laws or the prejudices of 
 [Rome to fubmit to my will. 
 
 j c IP. Give me thy hand, noble Titus. Thou waft worthy 
 f the empire ; and Scipio Africanus honours thy virtue. 
 
 TIT. My virtue can have no greater reward' from the ap- 
 probation of man. But, o Scipio, think what anguifh my heart 
 puft have felt, when I took that refolution, and when 1 com- 
 municated it to my dear, my unhappy Berenice. You faw the 
 ftruggle of Mafinifla, when you forced him to give up his be- 
 loved Sophonifba. Mine was a harder conflia. She had aban- 
 doned him to marry the king of Numidia. He knew that her 
 ruling paflion was ambition, not love. He could not rationally 
 :fteem her, when fhe quitted a huiband, whom me had ruined, 
 vho had loft his crown and his liberty in the caufe of her coun- 
 ry, and for her fake, to give her perfon to him, the capital foe 
 >f that unfortunate huiband. He muft, in fpite of his paflion, 
 lave thought her a -perfidious, a deteftable woman. But I 
 fteemed Berenice : fhe deferved my efteem. I was certain 
 be would not have accepted the empire from any other hand : 
 nd had I been a private man fhe would have raifed me to her 
 hrone. Yet I had the fortitude, I ought, perhaps, to fay, the 
 ardnefs of heart, to bid her depart from my fight ; depart for 
 |ver ! What, o Publius, was your conqueft over yourfelf in giv- 
 hg back to her betrothed lover the Celtiberian captive, com- 
 jared to this ? Indeed that was no conqueft. I will not fo dif- 
 onour the virtue of Scipio, as to think he could feel any ftrug- 
 le with himfelf on that account. A woman engaged to another, 
 ngaged by affeaion as well as vows, let her have been ever fo 
 Beautiful, could raife in your heart no fentiments but compafli- 
 n and friendfhip. To have violated her, would have been an 
 ft of brutality, which none but another Tarquin could have 
 emitted. To have detained her from her hufband, would 
 ave been cruel. But where love is mutual, where the objea 
 Cloved fuffers more in the feparation than you do yourfelf, to 
 m with her is indeed a ftruggle ! It is the hardeft facrifice a 
 x>d heart can make to its duty. 
 
 SCIP. I acknowledge that it is, and yield you the palm. But 
 ill own to you, Titus, I never knew much of the tendernefs 
 m defcribe. Hannibal, Carthage, Rome, the faving of my 
 ;>umrv, the fubduing of its rival, thefe filled my thoughts, and 
 tt no room there for thofe effeminate paflions. I do not blame 
 nir ienfibility : but, when I went to the capitol to talk tvith 
 Jyh^ I never confulted him about love affairs. 
 
 TIT. If
 
 9 6 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 TIT. If my foul had been pofTefled by ambition alone, I 
 might pofllbly have been a greater man than I was ; but I 
 mould not have been more virtuous, nor have gained the title 
 J preferred to that of Conqueror of Judaea and emperor,, of 
 Rome, in being called the Delight of Humankind. 
 
 DIALOGUE XII. 
 
 HENRY Duke of GUISE. MACHIAVEL. 
 
 GUISE. A VAUNT ! thou fiend I abhor thy fight. I 
 Xjk. look upon thee as the original caufe of my death, 
 and of all the calamities brought upon the French nation, in 
 my father's time and my own. 
 
 MACH. I the caufe of your death ! you furprize me ! 
 GUISE. Yes Your pernicious maximr of policy, imported 
 fromFlorence with Catherine of Medicis, your wicked difciple, 
 produced in France fuch a government, fuch diffimulation, 
 fuch perfidy, fuch violent, ruthlefs counfels, as threw that 
 whole kingdom into the utmoft confufion, and ended my life, 
 even in the palace of my fovereign, by the fwords of aflaflins. 
 MACK. Whoever may have a right to complain of my po^ 
 licy, you, Sir, have not. You owed your greatnefs to it, and 
 your deviating from it was the real caufe of your death. If it had 
 not been for the aflaflination of admiral Coligni and the mafla- 
 cre of the Huguenots, the ftrength and power which the con- 
 duel: of fo able a chief would have given to that party, after 
 the death of your father, its moft dangerous enemy, would 
 have been fatal to yourhoufe: nor could you, even with all the 
 advantage you drew from that great jlroke of Royal policy have 
 acquired the authority you afterwards rofe to in the kingdom 
 of France, but by purfuing my maxims ; by availing yourfelf of 
 the fpecious name of religion, to ferve the fecret purpoies of 
 your ambition; and by fuffering noreftraintof fear or confcience, 
 not even the guilt of exciting a civil war, to check the neceffary 
 progrefs of your well -concerted defigns. But on the day of the 
 barricades you moft imprudently let the kingefcape out of Parisj 
 when you might have flain or depofed him. This was directly 
 againft the great rule of my politics, ' not to flop fhort in re- 
 bellion or treafon till the work is fully compleated. And you 
 were juftly cenfured for it by Pope Sixtus Quintus, a more 
 confummate politician, who faid, " you ought to have known; 
 that when a fubject draws his f word againft his king, helhoulc 
 throw away the icabbard." You likewife deviated from m) 
 counfels, by putting yourfelf in the power of a fovereign yoi 
 had fo much offended. Why would you, againft all the cau- 
 
 lion;
 
 DIALOGUE XII. 297 
 
 tions I had given, expofe your life in a royal caftle to the mer- 
 cy of that prince ? You trufted to his fear, but fear, infulted 
 and defperate, is often cruel. Impute therefore your death, 
 not to any fault in my maxims, but to your own folly in not 
 having fufficiently obferved them. 
 
 GUISE. If neither I, nor that prince, had ever practifed your 
 maxims in any part of our conduct, he would have reigned 
 many years with honour and peace, and I mould have rifen by 
 ; my courage and talents to as high a pitch of greatnefs, as it 
 ' confided with the duty of a fubjeft to defire. But your in- 
 j (Iru&ions led us on into thofe crooked paths, out of which 
 there was no retreat without great danger, nor a poflibility of 
 advancing without being detefted by all mankind ; and ' who- 
 ever is fo has every thing to fear from that deteftation.' I will 
 give you a proof of this in the fate of a prince, who ought to 
 have been your hero, inftead of Caefar Borgia, becaufe he was 
 incomparably a greater man, and, of all who ever lived, feems 
 . to have a6bed moft fteadily according to the rules laid down by 
 you ; I mean Richard III, king of England.* He flopped at 
 no crime 1 that could be profitable to him : he was a diffembler, 
 a hypocrite, a murderer in cool blood : after the death of his 
 brother he gained the crown, by cutting off, without pity, all 
 who flood in his way. He trufted no man any further than 
 helped his own purpofes, and confifted with his own fafety. 
 He liberally rewarded all fervices done him, but would not let 
 the remembrance of them atone for offences, or fave any man 
 ! from deftru&ion who obftruted his views. Neverthelefs, 
 | though his nature fhrunk from no wickednefs which could 
 i ferve his ambition, he poflefled and exercifed all thofe virtues, 
 i which you recommend to the practice of your prince. He was 
 ! bold and prudent in war, juft and ftri& in the general admini- 
 ftration of his government, and particularly careful, by a vi- 
 i gorous execution of the laws, to protect the people againft in- 
 i juries or oppreflions from the great. In all his actions and 
 i words there conftantly appeared the higheft concern for the 
 I honour of the nation. He was neither greedy of wealth that 
 i belonged to other men, nor profufe of his own : but knew how 
 I to give, and where to fave. He profefled a moft edifying fenfe 
 i of religion, pretended great zeal for the reformation of man-v 
 ' ners, and was really an example of fobriety, chaftity, and tem- 
 : perance, in the whole courfe of his life. Nor did he fhed any 
 1 blood, but of thofe who w^re fuch obftacles in his way to do, 
 i minion, as could not poflibly be removed by any other means. 
 ! This was a prince after your heart : yet mark his end. The 
 
 horror 
 * See Machiavel's Prince.
 
 298 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 horror his crimes had excited in the minds of his fubje&s, and 
 the delegation it produced, were fo pernicious to him, that 
 they enabled an exile, who had no right to the crown, and whofe 
 abilities were much inferior to his, to invade his realm and 
 deftroy him. 
 
 MACH. This example, I own, may feem to be of fome 
 weight againft the truth of my fyftem. But at the fame time 
 it demonstrates, that there was nothing fo new in the do&rines 
 I publifhed, as to make it reafonable to charge me with the 
 diibrders and mifchiefs, which, fince my time, any kingdom may 
 have happened to fuflfer from the ambition of a fubject, or the 
 tyranny of a prince. Human nature wants no teaching, to ren- 
 der it wicked. In courts more efpecially there has been, from 
 the firft inftitution of monarchies, a policy pra&ifed, not lefs 
 repugnant than mine to the narrow and vulgar laws of huma- 
 r.ity and religion Why fhould I' be fingled out as worfe than 
 other ftatefmen ? 
 
 GUISE. There have been, it mutt be owned, in all ages and all 
 dates, many wicked politicians. But thou art the firft that ever 
 taught the fcience of tyranny, reduced it to rules, and inftru&ed 
 his difciples how to acquire and fecure it, by treachery, perju- 
 ries, aflaflinations,profcriptions ; and with a particular caution, 
 not to be flopped in the progrefs of their crimes by any check 
 of the confcience or feeling of the heart ; but to pufh them as 
 far as they (hall judge to be necefTary to their greatnefs and 
 fafety. It is this which has given thee a pre-eminence in guilt 
 over all other ftatefmen. 
 
 MACH. If you had read my book with candour, you would 
 have perceived, that Ididnotdefireto render men either tyrants 
 or rebels, but only (hewed, if they were fo, what conduft, in 
 fuch circumftances, it would be rational and expedient for them 
 to obferve. 
 
 GUISE. When you were a minifter of ftate in Florence, if 
 any chemift, or phyfician, had publiftied a treatife, to inftmcl: 
 his countrymen in the art of poifoning, and how to do it with 
 the moft certain deftruction to others and fecurity to them- 
 felves, would you have allowed him to plead in his juftificati- 
 on, that he did not defire men to poifon their neighbours ; but, 
 if they would ufe fuch evil means of mending their fortunes, 
 there could furely be no harm in letting them know, what were 
 the moft effe&ual poifons, and by what methods they might 
 give them without being discovered? Would you have thought 
 it a fufficient apology for him, that he had dropped in his pre- 
 face, or here and there in his book, a fober exhortation againft 
 the committingof murder? Without all doubt, as a magiftrate 
 
 concerned
 
 DIALOGUE XIL 299 
 
 concerned for the fafety of the people of Florence, you would 
 have punifhedthe wretch with the utmoft feverity, and taken 
 great care to deftroy every copy of fo pernicious a book. Yet 
 your own admired work contains a more baneful and more in- 
 fernal art. It poilbns ftates and kingdoms, and fpreads its 
 malignity, like a general peftilence, over the whole world. 
 
 MACH. You muft acknowledge, at leaft, that my difcourfes 
 onLivy are full of wife and. virtuous maxims and precepts of 
 government. 
 
 Gu ISE. This, I think, rather aggravates than alleviates your 
 
 guilt. How could you ftudy and comment upon Livy with fo 
 
 ; acute and profound an underftanding, and afterwards write a 
 
 [book To absolutely repugnant to all the leflbns of policy taught 
 
 by that fage and moral hiftorian ? how could you, who had 
 
 feen the picture of virtue fo amiably drawn by.his hand, and 
 
 ! ivho fcemed yourfelf to be fenfible of all its charms, fall in love 
 
 ; with a fury, and fet up her dreadful image, as an objet of 
 
 worfh'ip to princes ? 
 
 MACH. I was feduced by vanity. My heart was formed 
 
 to love virtue. But I wanted to be thought * a greater genius 
 
 in polities' than Ariftotle or Plato. Vanity, fir, is a paflion as 
 
 ; ftrong in authors as ambition in princes, or rather it is the 
 
 ,,fame paflion exerting itfelf differently. I was a duke of Guife 
 
 \.\n the republic of letters. 
 
 GUISE. The bad influences of your guilt have reached fur- 
 ther than mine, and been more lafting. But, heaven be praif- 
 led, your credit is at prefent much declining in Europe. I have 
 : been told by fome fhades who are lately arrived here, that 
 the ableft ftatefman of his time, a king, with whofe fame the 
 world is filled, has anfwered your book, and confuted all the 
 principles of it, with a noble fcorn and abhorrence. I am alfo 
 allured, that in England there is a great and good king, ' whofe 
 whole life has been a continued oppofition to your evil fyftem ;' 
 who has hated all cruelty, all fraud, all falfenefs ; whofe word 
 has been facred, whofe honour inviolate ; who has made the 
 laws of his kingdom the rules of his government, and good faith 
 and a regard for the liberty of mankind the principles of his 
 conduct with refpecl: to foreign powers ; who reigns more ab- 
 folutely now in the hearts of his people, and does greater things 
 by the confidence they place in him, and by the efforts they 
 make from the generous zeal of affection, than any monarch 
 ever did, or ever will do, by all the arts of iniquity which you 
 recommend. 
 
 DIALOGUE
 
 5oo DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 DIALOGUE XIII. 
 
 VIRGIL. HORACE. MERCURY. SCALIGER THE 
 ELDER. 
 
 VIRG."|% /T Y dear Horace, your company is my greateft 
 JLVJL delight, even in the Elyfian fields. No wonder 
 it was Co when we lived together in Rome. Never had man 
 fo genteel, fo agreeable, fo eafy a wit, or a temper fo pliant 
 to the inclinations of others in the intercoufe of fociety. And 
 then fuch integrity, fuch fidelity, fuch generofity in your na- 
 ture ! A foul fo free from all envy, fo benevolent, fo fmcere, 
 fo placable in its anger, fo warm and conftant in its affecti- 
 ons ! You were as neceflary to Maecenas, as he to Auguftus. 
 Your conversation fweetened to him all the cares of his mi- 
 niftry : your gaiety cheered his drooping fpirits ; and your 
 counfels aflifted him when he wanted advice. For you were 
 capable, my dear Horace, of counfelling ftatefmen. Your 
 fagacity, your difcretion, your fecrefy, your clear judgement 
 in all affairs, recommended you to the confidence, not of 
 Maecenas alone, but of Auguftus himfelf; which you nobly 
 made ufe of to ferve your old friends of the republican party, 
 and to confirm both the minifter and the prince in their love 
 of mild and moderate meafures, yet with a fevere reftraint 
 of licentioufnefs, the moft dangerous enemy to the whole 
 commonwealth under any form of government. 
 
 HOR. To be fo praifed by Virgil, would have put me in 
 Elyfium while I was alive. But I know your modefty will 
 not fuffer me, in return for thefe encomiums, to fpealc of 
 your character. Suppofing it as perfect as your poems, you 
 would think, as you did of them, that it wanted correction. 
 
 VIRG. Don't talk of my modefty. How much greater 
 was your's, when you difclaimed the name of a poet, you 
 whofe odes are fo noble, fo harmonious, fo fublime ! 
 
 HOR. 1 felt rnyfelf too inferior to the dignity of that name. 
 
 VIRG. I think you did like Auguftus, when he refufed to 
 accept the title of .king, but kept all the power with which 
 it was ever attended. Even in your epiftles and fatires, where 
 the poet was concealed, as much as he could be, you may 
 properly be compared to a prince in difguife, or in his hours 
 of familiarity with his intimate friends : the pornp and ma- 
 jefty were let drop, but the greatnefs remained. 
 
 HOR. Well : I will not contradict you ; and (to fay the 
 truth) I fhould do it with no very good grace, becaufe in 
 fome of my odes I have not fpoken fo modeftly of my own 
 
 poetrjf r
 
 DIALOGUE XIII. 301 
 
 poetry, as in my epiftles. But to make you know your pre- 
 eminence over me and all writers of Latin verfe, I will carry 
 you to Quintilian, the beft of all Roman critics, who will 
 tell you in what rank you ought to be placed. 
 
 VIRG. I fear his judgment of me was biafled by your com- 
 mendation. But who is this made that Mercury is conduct- 
 ing ? I never faw one that {talked with fo much pride, or had 
 fuch ridiculous arrogance exprefled in his looks ! 
 
 HOR. They come towards us : Hail, Mercury! What 
 is this ftranger with you ? 
 
 MER. His name is Julius Caefar Scaliger, and he is by pro- 
 feffion a critic. 
 
 HOR. Julius Caefar Scaliger ! He was, I prefume, a diSla- 
 tor in criticifm. 
 
 MER. Yes, and he has exercifed his fovereign power over 
 you. 
 
 HOR. I will not prefume to oppofe it. I had enough of 
 I following Brutus at Philippi. 
 
 MER. Talk to him a little : He'll amufe you. I 
 
 | brought him to you on purpofe. 
 
 HOR. Virgil, do you accoft him : I can't do it with pro- 
 per gravity : I (hall laugh in his face. 
 
 VIRG. Sir, may I afk for what reafon you caft your eyes 
 fo fupercilioufly upon Horace and me ? I don't remember 
 | that Auguftus ever looked down upon us with fuch an air of 
 jfuperiority, when we were his fubje&s. 
 
 SCAL. He was only a fovereign over your bodies, an4 
 (owed his power to violence and ufurpation. But I have from 
 I nature an abfolute dominion over the wit of all authors, who 
 i are fubjeaed to me as the greateft of critics or bypercritics. 
 
 VIRG. Your jurifdiQion, great fir, is very extenfive : 
 
 and what judgments have you been pleafed to pafs upon us ? 
 
 SCAL. Is it poflible you fhould be ignorant of my decrees? 
 I have placed you, Virgil, above Homer; whom I have 
 fhewn to be 
 
 VIRG. Hold, fir, no blafphemy againft my mafter. 
 
 HOR. But what have you faid of me ? 
 
 SCAL. I have faid, " that I had rather have written the 
 " little Dialogue between you and Lydia, than have been 
 " made king of Arragon." 
 
 HOR. If we were in the other world, you mould give me 
 the kingdom, and take both the ode and the lady in return. 
 But did you always pronounce fo favourably for us ? 
 j SCAL. Send for my works and read them. Mercury will 
 >nng them to you with the firft learned ghoft that arrives 
 i6re from Europe. There is inftruaion for you in them : 
 
 I tell
 
 302 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 I tell you of your faults. But it was my whim to comr 
 that little ode ; and I never do things by halves. When 
 give praife, I give it liberally, to fhew my royal bounty. Bi 
 I generally blame, to exert all the vigour of my cenforian 
 power, and keep my fubje6ts in awe. 
 
 HOR. You did not confine your fovereignty to poets ; you 
 exercifed it, no doubt, over all other writers. 
 
 SCAL. I was a poet, a philofopher, a ftatefman, an ora- 
 tor, an hiftorian, a divine, without doing the drudgery of 
 any of thefe, but only cenfuring thofe who did, and mewing 
 thereby the fuperiority of my genius over them all. 
 
 HOR. A mort way indeed to univerfal fame ! And I fup- 
 pofe you were very peremptory in your decifions. 
 
 SCAL. Peremptory! ay. If any man dared to contradict 
 my opinions, I called him a dunce, a rafcal, a villain, and 
 frightened him out of his wits. 
 
 VIRG. But what faid others to this method of difputation ? 
 
 SCAL. They generally believed me becaufe of the confi-. 
 dence of my aflertions ; and thought I could not be fo info- 
 lent, or fo angry, if I was not abfolutely fure of being in the 
 right. Befides, in my controverfies, I had a great help from 
 the language in which I wrote : for one can fcold and call 
 names with a much better grace in Latin than in French, or 
 any tame, modern tongue. 
 
 HOR. Have not I heard, that you pretended to derive 
 your defcent from the princes of Verona ? 
 
 SCAL. Pretended ! do you prefume to deny it? 
 
 HOR. Not I indeed : Genealogy is not my fcience. If 
 you mould claim to defcend in a direct line from king Midas, 
 J would not difpute it. 
 
 VIRG. I wonder, Scaliger, that you (looped to fo low an 
 ambition. Was it not greater to reign over all Mount Par- 
 naflus than over a petty (late in Italy ? 
 
 SCAL. You fay well. I was too condefcending to the pre- 
 judices of vulgar opinion. The ignorant multitude imagine 
 that a prince is a greater man than a critic. Their folly made : 
 me defire to claim kindred with the Sea/as of Verona. 
 
 HOR. Pray, Mercury, how do you intend to difpofe of 
 this auguft perfon ? You can't think it proper to let him re- 
 main with us. He muft be placed with the demigods ; he 
 muft go to Olympus. 
 
 MER. Be not afraid. He (hall not trouble you long. I 
 brought him hither to divert you with the fight of an animal 
 you never had feen, and myfelf with your furpiifc. He is 
 the chief of all the modern critics, the mod renowned cap- 
 tain of that numerous and dreadful band. Whatever you 
 
 may
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 303 
 
 may think of him, I can ferioufly a flu re you, that, before 
 he went mad, he had good parts, and great learning. But I 
 will now explain to you the original caufe of the ablurdities 
 he has uttered. His mind was formed in fuch a manner, 
 that, like fome perfpecYive glafies, it either diminifhed or 
 magnified all objetts too much ; but above all others it mag- 
 nified the good man to himfelf. This made him fo proud 
 that it turned his brain. Now I have had my fport with 
 him, I think it will be charity to reftore him to his fenfes ; 
 or rather to beftow what nature denied him, a found judge- 
 ment. Come hither, Scaliger. By this touch of my ca- 
 duceus I give thee power to fee things as they are, and among 
 others thyfelf. Look, gentlemen, how his countenance is 
 fallen in a moment ! Hear what he fays : He is talking to 
 shimfelf. 
 
 Sc AL. Blefs me ! with what perfons have I been difcourf- 
 ing ! with Virgil and Horace ! How could I venture to open 
 my lips in their prefence ? Good Mercury, I befeech you, let 
 me retire from a company for which I am very unfit. Let 
 ne go and hide my head in the deepeft made of that grove 
 which I fee in the valley. After I have performed a penance 
 here, I will crawl on my knees to the feet of thofe illuftri- 
 pus fhades, and beg them to fee me burn my impertinent 
 Dooks of criticifm, in the fiery billows of Phlegethon, with 
 my own hands. 
 
 f, MER. They will both receive thee into favour. This mor- 
 ification of truly knowing thyfelf is a fufficient atonement 
 or thy former prefumption. 
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 
 B o i L E A u. POPE. 
 
 ' POPE y u have done me S reat n nour. I 
 .. am to ld, that you made me your model in po- 
 pry, and walked on Parnaflus in the fame paths which I had 
 od. 
 
 POPE. We both followed Horace : but in our manner of 
 mtation, and in the turn of our natural genius, there was, 
 believe, much refemblance. We both were too irritable, 
 id too eafily hurt by offences, even from the lowed of men. 
 'he keen edge of our wit was frequently turned againft thofe 
 horn it was more a mame to contend with than an honour 
 
 vanquifh. 
 
 BOIL. Yes : But in general we were the champions of 
 jiod morals, gocd fenfe, and good learning. If our love of
 
 304 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 thefe was fometimes heated into anger againft thofe who of- 
 fended them no lefs than us, is that anger to be blamed ? 
 
 POPE. It would have been nobler, if we had not been par- 
 ties in the quarrel. Our enemies obferve, that neither our 
 cenfure, nor our praife, was always impartial. 
 
 BOIL. It might perhaps have been better if in fome inftances 
 we had not praifed or blamed fo much. But in panegyric 
 and fatire moderation is infipid. 
 
 POPE. Moderation is a cold unpoetical virtue. Mere hif-. 
 torical truth is better written in profe. And therefore I think 
 you did judicioufly, when you threw into the fire your hiftory 
 of Louis le Grand, and trufted his fame to your poems. 
 
 BOIL. When thofe poems were published, that monarch wa 
 the idol of the French nation. If you and I had not known, in 
 our occafional compofitions, how to fpeak to the paflions, as 
 well as to the fober reafon of mankind, we fhould not have ac- 
 quired that defpotic authority in the empire of wit, which 
 made us fo formidable to all the inferior tribe of poets in Eng- 
 land and France. Befides, (harp fatirifts want great patrons. 
 POPE. All the praife which my friends received from me 
 was unbought. In this, at lead, I may boaft a fuperiority over 
 the * penfioned Boileau.' 
 
 BOIL. A pen/ion in France was an honourable diftinction. 
 Had you been a frenchman, you would have ambitioufly fought 
 it ; had I been an Englifhman, I fhould have proudly declined 
 it. If our merit in other refpecls be not unequal, this difference 
 will not fet me much below you in the temple of virtue or of 
 fame. 
 
 POPE. It is not for me to draw a comparifon between our 
 works. But if I may believe the bell critics who have talked to 
 me on the fubjecl:, my Rape of the Lock is not inferior to 
 your Lutrin ; and my Art of Criticifm may well be compared 
 with your Art of Poetry : my Ethic Epiftles are efteemed at 
 leaft equal to your's, and my Satires much better. 
 
 BOIL. Hold, Mr. Pope. If there is really fuch a fympathy 
 in our natures as you have fuppofed, there may be reafon to 
 fear, that, if we go on in this manner comparing our works, 
 we mail not part in good friendmip. 
 
 POPE. No, no : the mild air of the Elyfian fields has miti- 
 gated my temper, as I prefume it has your's. But in truth our 
 reputations are nearly on a level. Our writings are admired, 
 almoft equally (as I hear) for energy and juflnefs of thought. 
 We both of us carried the beauty of our di&ion, and the har- 
 mony of our numbers, to the higheft perfection that our lan- 
 guages would admit. Our poems were polifhed to the utmoft 
 degree of corretnefs,yet without lofmg their fire, or the agree- 
 
 abk
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 303 
 
 able appearance of freedom and eafe. We borrowed much from 
 the ancients, though you, I believe, more than I : but our imi- 
 tations (to ufe an expreflion of your own) ' had dill an original 
 air.'* 
 
 BOIL. I will confefs, fir, (to mew you that the Elyfian cli- 
 mate has had its effects upon me) 1 will fairly confefs, without 
 the leaft ilUhumour, that in your Eloifa to Abelard,your Verfes 
 to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady, and fome others you 
 wrote in your youth, there is more fire of poetry, than in any 
 of mine. You excelled in the pathetic, which I never approach- 
 ed. I will alfo allow, that you hit the manner of Horace, and 
 theJJy delicacy of his wit, more exactly than I, or than any other 
 man who has written fince his time. Nor could I, nor did 
 even Lucretius himfelf, make phi lofophy fo poetical^nd embellifh. 
 it with fuch charms as you have given to that of Plato, or (to 
 
 fpeak more properly) of fome of his modern difciples, in your 
 celebrated Effay on Man. 
 
 POPE. What do you think of my Homer ? 
 
 BOIL. Your Homer is the moft fpirited, the mod poetical, 
 
 the moft elegant, and the moft pleafing tranflation, that ever was 
 made of any ancient poem ; though not fo much in the manner 
 of the original, or fo exactly agreeable to the fenfe in all places, 
 as might perhaps be defired. But when I confider the years 
 you fpent in this work, and how many excellent original poems 
 you might, with lefs~difficulty, have produced in that time, I 
 can't but regret that your talents were thus employed. A great 
 poet, fo tied down to a tedious tranflation, is ' a Columbus 
 chained to an oar.' What new regions of fancy, full of trea- 
 . fures yet untouched, might you have explored, if you had been 
 at liberty to have boldly expanded your fails, and fteered your 
 own courfe, under the conduct and direction of your own 
 genius ! But I am ftill more angry with you for your edition 
 of Shakefpear. The office aft an editor was below you, and 
 your mind was unfit for the drudgery it requires. Would any 
 body think of employing a Raphael to clean an old picture ? 
 POPE. The principal caufe of my undertaking that talk was 
 
 r.zeal for the honour of Shakefpear : and, if you knew all his 
 beauties as well as I, you would not wonder at this zeal. No 
 other author had ever fo copious, fo bold, fo creative an ima- 
 gination, with fo perfect a knowledge of the paffions, the hu- 
 mours, aud fentiments of mankind. He painted all characters, 
 from kings down to peafants, with equal truth and equal force. 
 If human nature were deftroyed, and no monument were left 
 of it except his works, other beings might know -what man u,>at 
 from thofe writings. 
 
 * See Boileau's epigram on himfelf. 
 
 X Boa. Yov
 
 5 oi5 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 BOIL. You fay he painted all characters, from kings dows? 
 to pcafants,.with equal truth'and equal force. I can't deny that 
 he did fo: but I wifli he had not jumbled thofe characters 
 together, in the competition of his pictures, as he has fre- 
 quently done,'; ]r.Hj 
 
 ..POPE. The ftrange mixture of .tragedy.,, comedy, and farce, 
 in the fame. play, nay fometimes in the fame fcene, I acknow- 
 ledge to he quite inexcufable; . :Btit rtliis.was the tafte of th 
 times when Shakefpear wrote. 
 
 BOIL. A great genius ought to .guide, not fervilely follow* 
 the tafte of his contemporaries^ - 
 
 POPE. Confidtr from how thick adarknefsof barbarifm the 
 genius of Shakefpear broke forth t What were the Englifh, 
 and what (let me aik you) were the French dramatic perfor-, 
 mances, in the age when he flourifhed ? the advances he made, 
 towards the higheft perfection both of tragedy and comedy are 
 amazing ! In the principal points, in the power of exciting 
 terror and pityj or raifing laughter in an audience, none yet i 
 has excelled him, and very few ha^e equalled. 
 
 BOIL. Do you think that he was equal in comedy to Moliere? 
 
 POPE. In comic force I do : but in the fine and delicate ftrokes j 
 of fatire, and what, is called genteel comedy^ he was greatly in- ! 
 ferior to that admirable writer. There is nothing in him to i 
 compare with the Mifanthropey the Ecole des Femmes, or i 
 Tartuffe. ni.L 
 
 BOIL. This, Mr. Pope, is a great deal for an Englimman to I 
 acknowledge. A veneration for Shakefpear feems to be a part i 
 of your national religion, and the only part in which even your i 
 men of fenfe are fanatics. 
 
 POPE. He who can read Shakefpear, and be cool enough for j 
 all the accuracy of fober criticifm, has more of reafon than tafto, I 
 
 BOIL. I join with you in admiring him as a prodigy of ge* j 
 nius, though! find the moft fhbckmg absurdities in his plays; J 
 abfurdities which no critic of my nation can pardon. 
 
 POPE. We will befatisfied with your feeling the excellence! 
 of his beauties. But you would admire him ftill more if you 
 could fee the chief characters in all- his heft tragedies reprefent* I 
 ed by an after, who appeared on the ftage a little before I left i 
 the world. He has fhewn the Englifli nation more excellencies I 
 in Shakefpear, than the quickeft wits could difcern, and has im- > 
 printed them on the heart with a livelier feeling than the moft ! 
 fenfible natures had ever experienced without his help. 
 
 BOIL. The variety, fpirit, and force of Mr. Garrick's acH 
 tion have been much praifed to me by many of his countrymen*,! 
 whcfe (hades I converfe with, and who agree in fpeaking of 
 
 hina;
 
 D I A L O .G U E XIV. 307 
 
 im as we do of Baron, our moft natural and mofr. admired 
 ftor. I have alfo heard of another, who has now quitted the 
 age, but who had filled, with great dignity, force, andele- 
 ^tion, fome tragic parts ; and excelled fo much in the comic, 
 lat none ever has deferved a higher applaufe. 
 
 'OPE. Mr. Quin was indeed a moil perfect comedian. In 
 part of Falftaff particularly, wherein the utmoft force of 
 kefpear's humour appears, he attained to fuch perfection, 
 he was not an a6tor ; he was the man described by Sakef- 
 ; he was Falftaff himfelf ! When I law him do it, the 
 fantry of the fat knight appeared to me fo bewitching, all 
 vices were fo mirthful, that I could not much wonder at 
 having feduced a young prince, even to rob in his company. 
 OIL. That character is not well underftood by the Frencru 
 :y fuppofe it belongs, not to comedy, but to farce : whereas 
 Englim fee in it the fineft and higheft ftrokes of wit and hu- 
 ir. Perhaps thefe different judgements may be accounted 
 ,in fome meafure, by the divert! ty of manners in different 
 ntries. -; But don't you allow, Mr. Pope, that our writers, 
 i of tragedy and comedy, are, upon the whole, more perfect 
 bers of their art than your's ? If you deny it, I will appeal 
 le Athenians, the only judges qualified to decide thedifpute. 
 ill refer it to. Euripides, Sophocles, and Menander. 
 OPE. I am afraid of thofe judges : for I fee them conti- 
 ly walking hand in hand, and engaged in the moft friendly 
 erfation with Corneille, Racine, and Moliere. Our dra- 
 ic writers feem, in general, not fo fond of their company.: 
 fometimes (hove rudely by them, and give themfelves airs 
 uperiority. They flight their reprimands, and laugh at 
 r 'precepts. Irr fhort, they will be tried by their country 
 e ; and that judicature is partial. 
 
 OIL. I will prefs this queftion no farther. But let me a(k 
 , to which of our rival tragedians, Racine and Corneille, 
 ou give the preference ? 
 
 OPE. The fublimeft plays of Corneille are, in my judge - 
 
 t, equalled by the Athalia of Racine; and the tender paf- 
 
 s are certainly touched by that elegant and moft pathetic 
 
 w er, with a much finer hand. I need not add that he is in- 
 
 fifely more correct than Corneille, and more harmonious 
 
 art noble in his verification. Corneille formed himfelf en- 
 
 tiry upon Lucan ; but the matter of Racine was Virgil. 
 
 H/ much better a tafte had the former than the latter in 
 
 ching his model ! 
 
 .OIL. My friendfliip with Racine, and my partiality for 
 huvntings, make me hear with great pleafure the preference 
 gi\n to him above Corneille by fo judicious a critic. 
 
 X 2 POPE. That
 
 3 o8 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 POPE. That he excelled his competitor in the particulars I 
 have mentioned, can't I think be denied. But yet the fpirit and 
 the majefty of ancient Rome were never fo well exprefled as by 
 Corneille. Nor has any other French dramatic writer, in the 
 general chafer of his works, (hewn fuch a mafculine ftrengtt 
 and greatnefs of thought. Racine is the fwan defcribed by an 
 cient poets, which rifes to the clouds on downy wings, am 
 fings a fweet, but a gentle and plaintive note. Corneille is th 
 eagle, which foars to the Ikies on bold and founding pinions 
 and fears not to perch on the fceptre of Jupiter, or to bear i 
 his pounces the lightning of the God. 
 
 BOIL. I am glad to find, Mr. Pope, that in praifmg Coi 
 neilleyourun into poetry, which is not the language oifeh 
 criticifm, though fometimes ufed by Longinus. 
 
 POPE. I caught the fire from the idea of Corneille. 
 BOIL. He has bright flafhes ; yet I think that in his thund 
 there is often more nolfe than/n?. Don't you find him tood 
 clamatory, too turgid, too unnatural, even in his beft tragedies 
 POPE. I own I do Yet the greatnefs and elevation of 1 
 fentiments, and the nervous vigour of his fenfe, atone, in n 
 opinion, for all his faults. But let me now, in my turn, deC 
 your opinion of our epic poet, Milton. 
 
 BOIL. Longinus perhaps would prefer him to all otr 
 writers : for he furpafles even Homer in thefuMime. But otf 
 critics, who, require variety and agreeablenefs, and a com 
 regularity of thought and judgement in an epic poem ; w 
 can endure no abfurdities, no extravagant fiSions, would pi' 
 him far below Virgil. 
 
 POPE. His genius was indeed io vaft and fublime, that 
 poem feems beyond the limits of criticifm ; as his fubjeft is 
 yond the limits of nature. The bright and exceflive blaz* 
 poetical fire, which fliines in fo many parts ot the Para| 
 Loft, will hardly permit the dazzled eye to fee its faults. j. 
 BOIL. The tafte of your countrymen is much changed W 
 the days of Charles II. when Dryden was thought a gref 
 poet than Milton ! 
 
 POPE. The politics of Milton at that time brought i 
 poetry into difgrace : for it is a rule with the Englilh ; if 
 fee no good in a man whofe politics they diflike. But, as ti 
 notions of government are apt to change, men of parts, * 
 they have flighted, become their favourite authors, and otll 
 who have pofleft their warmed admiration, are in their j 
 tinder- valued. This revolution of favour was experience!* 
 Dryden as well as Milton. He lived to fee his writings, t 
 ttier with his politics, quite out of falhion. But even
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 309 
 
 days of his higheft profperity, when the generality of the people 
 admired his Almanzor, and thought his Indian Emperor the 
 berfeaion of tragedy, the duke of Buckingkam, and lord Ro- 
 bhefter, the two wittieft noblemen our country has produced, 
 attacked his fame, and turned the rants of his heroes, the jar- 
 ton of his fpirits, and the abfurdity of his plots, into juft ri- 
 dicule. 
 
 BOIL. You have made him good amends by the praife you 
 nave given him in feme of your writings. 
 
 I POPE. I owed him that praife, as my matter in the art of 
 krfification. Yet I fubfcribe to the cenfures which have been 
 kafled by other writers on many of his works. They are good 
 [ritics, but he is frill a great poet. You, Sir, I am fure, muft 
 Wticularly admire him as an excellent fatirift. His Abfalom 
 |nd Achitopel is a mafter -piece in that way of writing, and his 
 
 'ac Flecno is, I think, inferior to it in nothing, but the 
 
 :annefs of the fubjea. 
 
 BOIL. Did you take the model of your Dunciad from the 
 
 ter of thofe very ingenious fatires ? 
 
 POPE. I didbut my work is more extenfive than his, and 
 
 y imagination has taken in it a greater fcope. 
 
 BOIL. Some critics may doubt whether the length of your 
 
 cm was fo properly fuited to the meannefs of the fubjea as the 
 
 "ivity of his. Three cantos to expofe a dunce crowned with 
 
 rel ! I have not given above three lines to the author of the 
 ucelle. 
 
 POPE. My intention was to expofe, not one author alone, 
 
 - all the dullnefs and falfe tafte of the Engliih nation in my 
 es. Could fuch a defign be contraaed into a narrower com- 
 
 ^ s ? 
 
 (BoiL. We will not difpute on this point, nor whether the 
 lero of your Dunciad was really a dunce. But has not Dryden 
 pen accufed of immorality and prophanenefs in fome of his 
 Iritings ? 
 
 U POPE. He has, with too much reafon: and I am forry to 
 ly, that all our beft comic writers after Shakefpear and John- 
 H<n, except Addifon and Steele, are as liable as he to that heavy 
 Uiarge. Fletcher is (hocking. Etheridge, Wycherly, Con- 
 [eve, Vanburgh, and Farquhar, have painted the manners of 
 Nie times in which they wrote, with a mafterly hand; but 
 i !iey are too often fuch manners, that a virtuous man, and 
 Much more a virtuous woman, muft be greatly offended at 
 . 'ie reprefentation. 
 
 I 1 BOIL. In this refpea our ftage is far preferable to your's. 
 
 is a fchool of morality. Vice is expofed to contempt and 
 
 X 3 to
 
 3 io DIALOGUES'OF THE DEAD. 
 
 to hatred. No falfe colours are laid on, to conceal its defor- j 
 mity ; but thofe with which it paints itfelf are there taken off. I 
 POPE. It is a wonderful thing, that in France the Comlel 
 Mufe fhould be the grave/I lady in the nation. Of late fhe is io 
 grave, that one might almoft miftake her for her fifter Mel- J 
 pomene. A4oliere made her indeed a good moral philosopher j I 
 but then fhe philofophixed, like Democritus, with a merry! 
 laughing face. Now fhe weeps over vice, inftead of fhew- 1 
 ing it to mankind, as I think fhe generally ought to do, in ri- j 
 diculous lights. 
 
 BOIL. Her bufmefs is more with folly than with vice ; and! 
 when fhe attacks the latter, if mould be rather with ridicule I 
 than invecYive. But fometimesfhe maybe allowed to raife her; 
 voice, and change her ufual fmile into a frown of juft indig* | 
 nation. 
 
 POPE. I like her bed when fhe fmiles. But did you neveil 
 reprove your witty friend La Fontaine for the vicious levity j 
 that appears in many of his Tales? He was as guilty of the! 
 crime of debauching the Mufes, as any of our comic poets. 
 
 BOIL. I own he was ; and bewail the proftitution of his gel 
 nius, as 1 mould that of an innocent and beautiful country girl, i 
 He was all nature, all fimplicity ! yet in that fimplicity therJ 
 was a grace, and unaffected vivacity, with a juftnefs of thougM 
 and eafy elegance of expreffion, that can hardly be found ill 
 any other writer. His manner is quite original, and pecuttftl 
 to himfelf, though all the matter of his writings is borrowe! 
 from others. 
 
 POPE. In that manner he has been imitated by my fria^i 
 Mr. Prior. 
 
 BOIL. He has, very fuccefsfully. Some of Prior's tales h|f ;> 
 the fpirit of La Fontaine's with more judgement, but not, 
 Jhink, with iuch an amiable and graceful fimplicity. 
 
 POPE. Prior's harp had more firings than La Fontaine' 
 He was a fine poet in many different ways : La Fontaine bi 
 in one. And, though in fome of his talcs he imitated that au, 
 thor, his Alma was an original, and of fingular beauty. 
 
 BOIL. There is a writer of heroic poetry, who lived befoi. 
 Milton, and whom fome of your countrymen place in \\ 
 higheft clafs of your poets, though he is little known in Franc 
 I fee him fometimes in company with Homer and Virgil, bi 
 oftener with Taffo, Arioflo and Dante. 
 
 POPE. I underftand you mean Spenfer. There is a force arp 
 beauty in fome of his images and defcriptions, equal to any , 
 thofe writers you have feen him converfe with. But he had n, 
 the art of properly fhading his pictures. He brings the minu
 
 DIALOGUE XVI. 3 , t 
 
 and difagreeable parts too much into fight ; and mingles too fre- 
 quently vulgar and mean ideas with noble and fublime. Had 
 lie cho r en a fubjeQ proper for epic poetry, he feems to have had 
 afufficient elevation and ftrength in his genius to make him a 
 great epic poet : but the allegory, which is continued through- 
 out the whole work, fatigues the mind, and cannot intereftr 
 the heart fo much as thofe poems, the chief afters in which 
 e fuppofed to have really exifled. The Syrens and Girce in 
 yfley are allegorical perfons ; but UlyfTes, the hero of 
 he poem, was a man renowned in Greece, which makes the 
 account of his adventu-res affeaing and delightful. To be now 
 nd then in Fairy-land, among imaginary beings, is a pleafin^ 
 anety, and helps. to difiinguifh the poet from the orator or 
 jrftorian : but to be always there is irkfome. 
 
 BOIL. Is not Spenfer likewife blameable for confounding 
 ie Chriftian with the Pagan theology, in fome parts of his 
 oem ? r;;^-,;; 
 
 POPE. Yes ; he had that fault in common with Dante, 
 nth Ariofto, and with Camoens. 
 
 BOIL. Who is the poet that arrived foon after you inElyfi- 
 m, whom I faw Spenfer lead in and prefent to Virgil, as 'the 
 uthor of a poem refembfing the Georgics ? On his head was 
 garland of the feveral kinds of flowers that blow in each fea- 
 g, with evergreens intermixed. 
 
 POPE. Your defcription points out Thomfon. He painted 
 ature exaaiy, and with great ftrength of pencil. His ima^i- 
 ation was rich, extenfive, and fubl-ime : his diaion bold and 
 owing, but fometimes obfcure and affeaed. 'Nor did he al- 
 ays know when to flop, or what to rejeft. 
 BOIL. I mould fuppofe that he wrote tragedies upon the 
 rreck model. For he is often admitted into the grove of 
 uripides. 
 
 POP K. He enjoys that diftinaion both as a traj^diarr, and as 
 moralift. For, not only in hisplaye, but all his^ether works, 
 e is the pureft morality, animated by piety, and rendered 
 ore touching by the fine and delicate fentimenfs of a moft 
 nder and benevolent heart, 
 
 Boi L. St. EvTcmond has brought me acquainted with Waller. 
 
 was furprized to find in his writings a politenefs and gal- 
 
 ntry which the French fuppofe to be appropriated only to 
 
 'sir's. His genius was a competition, which is feldorn to be 
 
 ;t with, of the fublime and the agreeable. In his com- 
 
 ^ifon between himfelf and Apollo, as the lover of Daphne, 
 
 in that between Amoret and SacharifTa, there is a fineffe 
 
 .ehcacy of wit, which the moft elegant of our writers 
 
 X 4 have
 
 312 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 have never exceeded. Nor had Sarraz,in or Voiture the art of 
 praifmg more genteely the ladies they admired. But his epiftle 
 to Cromwell, and his poem on the death of that extraordinary 
 man, are written with a force and greatnefs of manner, which 
 give him rank among the poets of the firft clafs. 
 
 POPE. 'Mr. Waller was unqueftionably a very fine writer. 
 His Mufe was as well qualified as the Graces themfelves to 
 drefs out a Venus ; and he could even adorn the brows of a con- 
 queror with fragrant and beautiful wreaths. But he had fome 
 puerile and low thoughts, which unaccountably mixed with the 
 elegant and the noble, like fchool-boys or mob admitted into a 
 palace. There was alfo fcn intemperance and a luxuriancy in 
 his wit, which he did not enough reftrain. .He wrote little to 
 the understanding, and lefs to the heart ; but he frequently de- ; 
 lights the imagination, and fometimes ftrikes it with flames of 
 the higheftfublime.--We had another poet of the age of Charles 
 the Firft, extreamly admired by all his contemporaries, in 
 \vhofe works there is ftill more affectation of wit, a greater 
 redundancy of imagination, a worfe tafte, and lefs judgement : 
 but he touched the heart more, and had finer feelings than 
 Waller. I mean Cowley. 
 
 BOIL. I have been often folicited to admire his writings byf 
 his learned friend Dr. Spratt. He feems to me a great wit, 
 and a very amiable man, but not a good poet. 
 
 POPE. The fpirit of 'poetry is ftrong in fome of his odes ; but-j 
 in the art of poetry he is always extremely deficient. 
 
 BOIL. I hear that of late his reputation is much lowered ini 
 the opinion of the Englifh. Yet I cannot but think, that if a- 
 moderate portion of the fuprfluities of his wit were given by 
 Apollo to fome of their modern bards, who write common- 
 place morals in very fmooth verfe, without any abfurdity, but 
 without afingle new thought, or one enlivening fpark of ima-1 
 ^ination, it would be a great favour to them, and do ihem 
 more fervice, than all the rules laid down in my Art of Poetry ; 
 and your's of Criticifm. 
 
 POPE I am much of your mind. But I left in Englanc 
 Ibme poets, whom you, I know, will admire, not only for th< 
 harmony, and correftnefs of ftyle, but the fpirit, and gerjius 
 you will find in their writings. 
 
 BOIL. France too has produced fome very excellent writers 
 fince the time of my death. Of one particularly I hear won 
 ders. Fame to him is as kind as if he had been dead a thou 
 (and years. She brings his praifes to me from all parts of Eu 
 vope.TrYou know I fpeak of Voltaire. 
 
 POPE. I do
 
 DIALOGUE XIV. 313 
 
 PoPE. I do : the Englifti nation yields to none in admiration 
 >f his extenfive genius. Other writers excel in fome one 
 particular branch of wit or fcience ; but when the king of 
 'ruflia drew Voltaire from Paris to Berlin, he had a whole 
 Academy of Belles Letters in him alone. 
 
 BOIL. That prince himfelf has fuch talents for poetry as 
 no other monarch, in any age or country has ever poflefled. 
 What an aftonifhing compafs muft there be in his mind, what 
 an heroic tranquillity and firmnefs in his heart, that he can, in 
 the evening, compofe an ode or epiftle in the moft elegant 
 verfe, and the next morning fight a battle with the conduft of 
 Caefar, or Guftavus Adolphus ! 
 
 POPE. I envy Voltaire fo noble a fubje& both for his verie 
 and his profe. But if that prince will write his own Com- 
 mentaries, he will want no hiftorian. I hope that in writing 
 them, he will not reftrain his pen, as Caefar has done, to a 
 mere account of his wars, but let us fee the politician, and the 
 benignant protector of arts and fciences, as well as the warrior, 
 in that pifture of himfelf. Voltaire has {hewn us, that the 
 events of battles and fieges are not the moft interefting parts 
 of good hiftory, but that all the improvements and embellifti- 
 ments of human fociety ought to be carefully and particularly 
 recorded there. 
 
 BOIL. The progrefs of arts and knowledge, and the great 
 changes that have happened in the manners of mankind, are 
 objects far more worthy of a reader's attention than the revo- 
 lutions of fortune. And it is chiefly to Voltaire that we owe 
 this inftru&ive fpecies of hiflory. 
 
 POPE. He has not only been the father of it among the 
 moderns, but has carried it himfelf to it's utmoft perfection. 
 BOIL. Is he not too univerfal? Can any writer be exaft, who 
 is fo comprehenfive ? 
 
 POPE. A traveller round the world cannot infpet: every re-r 
 .gion with fuch an accurate care as exaHy to defcribe each 
 fmgle part. If the outlines are well marked, and the obferva- 
 tions on the principal points are judicious, it is all that can be 
 required. 
 
 BOIL. I would however advife and exhort the French and 
 Englifh youth, to take a fuller furvey of fome particular pro- 
 vinces, and to remember, that although, in travels of this fort, 
 a lively imagination is a very agreeable companion, it is not the 
 beft guide. To fpeak without a metaphor, the ftudy of hif- 
 tory, both facred and'profane, requires a critical and laborious 
 invcftigation. The compofer of a fet of lively and witty remarks 
 or. facts ill examined, or incorrectly delivered, is not an hiftorian. 
 
 POPE. We
 
 3 i 4 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 POPE. We cannot, I think, deny that name to the author of 
 the life of Charles the Xllth, king of Sweden. 
 
 BOIL, No, certainly. I efteem it the very beft hiftory that 
 'this age has produced. As full of fpirit as the hero whofe ac- 
 tions it relates, it is neverthelefs moft exact in all matters of 
 importance. The ftyle of it is elegant, perfpicuous, unaffect- 
 ed; the difpofition and method are excellent, the judgements 
 given by the writer acute and juft. 
 
 POPE. Are you not pleafcd with that philofophical freedom 
 of thought which difcovers itfelf in all the works of Voltaire, 
 but more particularly in thofe of an hiftorical nature ? 
 
 BOIL. If it were properly regulated, I mould reckon it 
 among their higheft perfections. Superftition, and bigotry, and 
 party fpirit, are as great enemies to the truth and candour of 
 hiftory, as malice or adulation. To think freely, is therefore 
 a moft neceflary quality in a perfect hiftorian. But all liberty 
 has it's bounds, which, in fomeof his writings, Voltaire, I fear, 
 has not obferved. Would to heaven he would reflect, while 
 it is yet in his power to correct what is faulty, that all his 
 works will outlive him ; that many nations will read them ; 
 and that the judgement pronounced here upon the writer him- 
 felf will be according to the fcope and tendency of them, and to 
 the extent of their good or evil effects on the great fociety of 
 mankind! 
 
 POPE. It would be well for all Europe, if fome other wits 
 of your country who give the tone to this age in all polite li- 
 terature, had the fame ferious thoughts you recommend to 
 Voltai. e. Witty writings, when directed to ferve the good ends 
 of virtue and religion, are like the lights hung out in -A pharos, 
 to guide the mariners fafe through dangerous feas; but the 
 brghtnefs of thofe, that are impious or immoral, mines only 
 to betray, and lead men todeftruction. 
 
 BOIL. Has England been free from all feductions of this 
 nature ? 
 
 POPE. No. But the French have the art of rendering 
 
 vice and impiety more agreeable than the Englifh. 
 
 BOIL. I am not very proud of thisfuperiority in the talents 
 of my countrymen. But, as I am told that the goodfenfe of the 
 Englifh is now admired in France, I hope it will loon convince 
 both nations, *' that true wildom is virtue, and true virtue is 
 religion." 
 
 POPE. I think it alfo to be wifhed, that a tafte for the frivo- 
 lous may not continue too prevalent among the French. There 
 is a great difference between gathering flowers at the foot of 
 Parnaffus, and afccnding the arduous heights of the mountain. 
 The p.ilmsand laurels grow there : and if any of your coun- 
 trymen 

 
 D I A L O G U E XV. 3IS 
 
 trymen afpire to gain them, they muft no longer enervate all 
 the vigour of their minds by this habit of trifling. I would 
 have them be perpetual competitors with the Englifli in 
 manly wit and fubftantial learning. But let the competition 
 be friendly. There is nothing which fo contrads and debafes 
 the mind as national envy. True wit, like true virtue, na- 
 turally loves it own image, in whatever place it is found. 
 
 DIALOGUE XV. 
 OCTAVIA. PORTIA. ARRIA. 
 
 PoR.TTOW has it happened, Odavia, that Arria and 
 X JL I, who have a higher rank than you in the tem- 
 ple of Fame, mould have a lower here in Elyfium ? We are 
 told, that the virtues, you exerted, as a wife, were greater 
 than our's. Be fo good as to explain to us what were thofe 
 virtues. It is the privilege of this place, that one can bear 
 fupenonty without mortification. The jealoufy of precedence 
 died with the reft of our mortal frailties. Tell us then your 
 own ftory. We will fit down under the made of this myrtle 
 grove, and liften to it with pleafure. 
 
 OCT. Noble ladies, the glory of our fex and of Rome, I 
 will not refufe to comply with your defire, though it recalls 
 to my mind fome fcenes, my heart would wim to forget 
 There can be only one reafon why Minos mould have riven 
 to my conjugal virtues a preference above your's ; which is 
 that the trial afligned to them was harder. 
 
 ARRIA. How ! madam ; harder than to die for your huf- 
 band ! We died for ours. 
 
 OCT. You did, for hufbands .who loved you, and were 
 the mod virtuous men of the ages they lived in ; who truft- 
 ed ,ou with their lives, their fame, their honour. To out- 
 live fuch hufbands is, in my judgment, a harder effort of 
 virtue, than to die for them or with them. But Mark An- 
 tony, to whom my brother Otavius, for reafons of ftate 
 gave my hand, was indifferent to me, and loved another* 
 Yet he has told me himfelf, I was handfomer than his mif- 
 trefs Cleopatra. Younger I certainly was ; and to men that 
 is generally a charm fufficient to turn the fcale in one's fa- 
 vour. I had been loved by Marcellus. Antony faid he loved 
 me, when he pledged to me his faith. Perhaps he did for 
 a time : a new handfome woman might, from his natural in- 
 conftancy, make him forget an old attachment. He was but 
 too amiable. His very vices had charms beyond other rr.ens 
 virtues. Such vivacity ! fuch fire ! fuch a towering pride ! 
 
 He
 
 3 i6 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 He feemed made by nature to command ; to govern the 
 world ; to govern with fuch eafe, that the bufmefs of it did 
 not rob him of an hour of pleafure ! Neverthelefs, while his 
 inclination for me continued, this haughty lord of mankind, 
 who could hardly bring his high fpirit to treat my brother, 
 his partner in empire, with the neceffary refpect, was to me 
 as fubmifitve, as obedient to every wifh of my heart, as the 
 humbled lover that ever fighed in the vales of Arcadia. Thus 
 he feduced my affection from the manes of Marcellus, and 
 fixed it on himfelf. He fixed it, ladies, (I own it with fome 
 confufion) more fondly than it had ever been fixed on Mar- 
 cellus. And when he had done fo, he fcorned me, he for- 
 fook me, he returned to Cleopatra. Think who I was : 
 the fitter of Caefar, facrificed to a vile Egyptian queen, the 
 harlot of Julius, the difgrace of her fex ! Every outrage was 
 added that could incenfe me ftill more. He gave her, at 
 fundry times, as public marks of his love, many provinces of 
 the empire of Rome in the Eaft. * He read her love-letters 
 openly, in his tribunal itfelf ; even while he was hearing and 
 judging the caufes of kings. Nay he left hrs tribunal, and 
 one of the befl Roman orators pleading before him, to follow 
 her litter, in which fhe happened to be pafling by at that time. 
 But, what was more grievous to me than all thefe demon- 
 ftrations of his extravagant paflion for that imfamous wo- 
 man, he had the affurance, in a f letter to my brother, to 
 call her his wife. Which of you, ladies, could have patiently 
 borne this treatment ? 
 
 ARRIA. Not I, madam, in truth. Had I been in your 
 place, the dagger with which I pierced my own bofom, to 
 ihew my dear Psetus how eafy it was to die, that dagger fhould 
 I have plunged into Antony's heart, if piety to the gods, 
 and a due refpect to the purity of my own foul, had not 
 flopped my hand. But, I verily believe, I mould have kill- 
 ed myfelf ; not, as I did, out of affection to my hufband, but 
 out of fhame and indignation at the wrongs I endured. 
 
 POR. I muft own, Odavia, that to bear fuch ufage was 
 harder to a woman than to fwallow fire. 
 
 OCT. % Yet did I bear it, madam, without even a com- 
 plaint, which could hurt or offend my hufband. Nay, more ; 
 at his return from his Parthian expedition, which his impati- 
 ence to bear a long abfence from Cleopatra had made unfor- 
 tunate and inglorious, I went to meet him in Syria, and car- 
 ried with me rich prefents of clothes and money for his 
 
 troops, 
 
 * See Plutarch's Life of Antony. 
 f V. Suetonium in Augufto Gsfare. 
 t See Plutarch's Life of Ar. tony.
 
 DIALOGUE XV. 317 
 
 troops, a great number of horfes, and two thoufand chofen 
 foldiers, equipped and armed like my brother's pgetorian 
 bands. He fent to me at Athens, becaufe his miftrefs was 
 then with him. I obeyed his orders : but I wrote to him, by 
 one of his moll faithful friends, a letter full of refignation, 
 and fuch a tendernefs for him as I imagined might have pow- 
 er to touch his heart. My envoy ferved me fo well, he fet 
 my fidelity in fo fair a light, and gave fuch reafons to An- 
 tony, why he ought to fee and receive me with kindnefs, that 
 Cleopatra was alarmed. All her arts were employed to pre- 
 vent him from feeing me, and to draw him again into Egypt.* 
 Thofe arts prevailed. He fent me back into Italy, and 
 gave himfelf up more abfolutely than ever to the witchcraft 
 of that Circe. He added Africa to the ftates he had beftowed 
 on her before ; and declared Caefario, her fpurious fon by 
 Julius Cgefar, heir to all her dominions, except Phoenicia, 
 and Cilicia, which, with the Upper Syria, he gave to Pto- 
 lemy, his fecond fon by her ; and at the fame time declared 
 his eldeft fon by her, whom he had efpoufed to the princefe 
 of Media, heir to that kingdom, and king of Armenia, nay, 
 and of the whole Parthian empire, which he meaned to con- 
 quer for him. The children I had brought him he entirely 
 neglected, as if they had been baftards. I wept. I lamented 
 the wretched captivity he was in; but I never reproached 
 him. My brother, exafperated at fo many indignities, com- 
 manded me to quit the houfe of my hufband at Rome, and 
 come into his. I refufed to obey him. I remained in An- 
 tony's houfe, I perfifted to take care of his children by Ful- 
 via, the fame tender care, as of my own. I gave my pro- 
 tection to all his friends at Rome. I implored my brother 
 not to make my jealoufy or my wrongs the caufe of a civil 
 war. But the injuries done to Rome by Antony's conduct: 
 could not poflibly be forgiven. When he found he fhould 
 draw the Roman arms on himfelf, he fent orders to me to 
 leave his houfe. I did fo, but carried with me all his children 
 by Fulvia, except Antyllus, the eldeft, who was then with 
 him in Egypt. After his death and Cleopatra's, I took her 
 children by him, and bred them up with my own. 
 
 ARRIA. Is it poflible, madam? the children of Cleopatra? 
 OCT. Yes, the children of my rival. I married her 
 daughter to Juba, king of Mauritania, the moft accomplifh- 
 ed, and the handfomeft prince in the world. 
 
 ARRIA. Tell me, O&avia, did not your pride and refent- 
 ment entirely cure you of your pafiion for Antony, as foon 
 as you faw him go back to Cleopatra ? and was not your 
 
 w.hoJe 
 * See Plutarch's Life of Anton/.
 
 3 i8 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 whole conduct afterwards the effect of cool reafon, undif- 
 turbed by the agitations of jealous and tortured love ? 
 
 OCT. You probe my heart very deeply. That I had 
 fome help from refentment and the natural pride of my lex, 
 I will not deny. But I was not become indifferent to my huf- 
 band. I loved the Antony who had been my lover, more 
 than I was angry with the Antony who forfook me, and loved 
 another woman. Had he left Cleopatra, and returned to me 
 again with all his former affection, I really believe I mould 
 have loved him as well as before. 
 
 ARRIA..H the merit of a wife is to be meafured by her 
 fufferings, your heart was unqueftionably the mod perfet 
 model of conjugal virtue. The wound I gave mine was but 
 a fcratch in comparifon to many you felt. Yet I don't know, 
 whether it would be any benefit to the world, that there 
 fhould be in it many O&avias. " Too good fubjecls are 
 " apt to make bad kings." 
 
 FOR. True, Arria ; the wives of Brutus and Cecinna 
 Paetus may be allowed to have fpirits a little rebellious. Oc- 
 tavia was educated in the court of her brother. Subjection 
 and Patience were much better taught there than in our 
 houfes, where the Roman liberty made its laft abode : and 
 though I will not difpute the judgment of Minos, I can't help 
 thinking that the affection of a wife to her hufband is more 
 or lefs refpectable in proportion to the character of that huf- 
 band. If I could have had for- Antony the fame friendfhip 
 as I had for Brutus, I mould have defpifed myfelf. 
 
 OCT. My fondnefs for Antony was ill placed; but my 
 perfeverance in the performance of all the duties of a wife, 
 notwithstanding his ill ufage, a perfeverance made more dif- 
 ficult by the very excefs of my love, appeared to Minos tl 
 higheft and mod meritorious effort of female refolution, 
 againft the fedu&ions of the moil dangerous enemy to 01 
 virtue, offended pride. 
 
 DIALOGUE XVI. 
 
 LOUISE DE COLIGNI, Princefs of Orange. 
 FRANCES WALSiNGHAM,Countefs of Effex and of Clan- 
 rickard ; before Lady SIDNEY. 
 
 P. of OR. /^UR deftinies, madam, had a great and fur- 
 \^J prifing conformity. I was the daughter of 
 admiral Coligni, you of fecretary Walfingham, two perfons 
 who were the moft confummate ftatefmen and ableft fupports 
 of the Proteftant religion, in France, and in England. I was 
 
 married
 
 DIALOGUE XVI. 3Ip 
 
 ! married to Coligni, the fineft gentleman of our party the 
 imoft admired for ^ his valour, his virtue, and his learning: 
 iyou to Sir Philip Sidney, who enjoyed the fame pre-eminence 
 among the Englifh. Both thefe hufbands were cut off in 
 the flower of their youth and of glory, by violent dearths, 
 land we both married again with ftill greater men; I with 
 :William Prince of Orange, the founder of the Dutch Com- 
 monwealth;* you with Dfevereux earl of Effex t the fi 
 [vounte of Elizabeth, and of the whole EnglHh nation. But 
 alas! to compleat the refemblance of our fates, we both 
 |w thofe fecond hufbands, who had raifed us fo high de 
 ftroyed in the full meridian of their glory and " 
 
 mine by the piftol of an affaflln ; your'f ft I 
 y, by the axe, as a traitor. 
 
 . 
 
 C. of CLAN. There was indeed in fome principal events 
 our lives the conformity you obferve. But your deitiny 
 hough it raffed you higher than me, was more unhappy thin 
 nine For my father lived honourably, and died in peace" 
 -our s was affaffmated in his old age. How, madam, did 
 
 . w, maam, 
 
 rou iupportor recover ;your fpirits under fo many misfortunes 
 ' P nnc f \ of Oran S e eft an infant f on to my 
 
 UCaI 
 
 are f 
 
 h UCa L Ing ru-" 1 ' bC W rth ^ f f u 
 
 nH !h ff , u 1 " f hlS VlftUe aS Wdl as of his gre 
 " e 
 
 ff , u 
 
 fo a r h" f t the r COm r, nWealth ' " Which ' nere 
 for his fake, fo filled my mind, that they in fome 
 
 e the fenfe of 
 
 eh ^ wc 
 
 Jt fuch a great and important fcene of bufinefi, fuch a ne- 
 .ffary taHc o private and public duty, could hive ever r - 
 
 H K 1 r CnqUlre ln m ? turn ' how did your heart 
 
 nd la balm to alleviate the anguifh of the wounds it h^ 
 
 hours after t 
 
 . 
 
 P. of OR. Married again! With what prince, wh - at r ^ 
 j -you marry ? The widow of Sir Philip Sydney and of m? 
 d Effex could notdefcend from them to \ fuLa of left 
 
 JrableTo euTer ^ Whr6 ^ ^ U ^ ^ ^ % 
 C. of CLAN. I did not feek for one, madam : the heroifm 
 the former, and the ambition of the latter, had made 
 y unhappy. I defired a quiet life and the joys ot wedded 
 e, with an agreeable, virtuous, well-born ' unamWtiou 
 
 ^nterpnfing hufband. All this I found in the earl^Qa n !
 
 320 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 rickard: and, believe me, madam, I enjoyed more folid feli- 
 city in Ireland with him, than I ever had poflefled with my 
 two former huibands, in the pride of their glory, when Eng- 
 land and all Europe refounded with their praife. 
 
 P. of OR. Can it be poflible, that the daughter of Wai- 
 fingham, and the wife of Sidney and Eflex, mould have fen- 
 timents fo inferior to the minds from which me fprung, and 
 to which me was matched ! Believe me, madam, there was no 
 hour of the many years I lived after the death of the prince of 
 Orange, in which I would have exchanged the pride and joy, 
 I continually had in hearing his praife, and feeing the monu- 
 ments of his glory in the free commonwealth his wifdom 
 had founded, for any other delights the world could give. 
 The cares that I fhared with him, while he remained upon 
 earth, were a happinefs to my mind, becaufe they exalted 
 its powers. The remembrance of them was dear to me af- 
 ter I had loft him. I thought, his great foul, though re- 
 moved to a higher fphere, would look down upon mine with 
 fome tendernefs of affection, as its fellow-labourer in the he- 
 roic and divine work of delivering and freeing his country. 
 But to be divorced from that foul ! to be no longer his wife ! 
 to be the confort of an inferior, inglorious hufband ! I had 
 much rather have died a thouland deaths, than that my hearl 
 (hould one moment have conceived fuch a thought. 
 
 C. of CLAN. Your highnefs muft not judge of all heartf, 
 by your own. The ruling paflion of that was apparently am- 
 bition. My inclinations were not fo noble as your's, bui 
 better fuited, perhaps, to the nature of women. I loved Sii 
 Philip Sidney, I loved the earl of Eflex, rather as amiable 
 men than as heroes and ftatefmen. They were fo taken uf 
 with their wars and ftate-affairs, that my tendernefs fo: 
 them was too often neglected. The earl of Clanrickard wa 
 conftantly and wholly mine, He was brave, but had no 
 that fpirit of chivalry, with which Sir Philip Sidney was ab 
 folutely poflefled. He had, in a high degree, theefteemc 
 Elizabeth, but did not afpire to her love; nor did he wifi 
 to be the rival of Carr or of Villars in the affecYton of Jamei 
 Such, madam, was the man" on whom my laft choice be 
 flowed my hand, and whofe kindnefs compenfated for all rn 
 misfortunes ! Providence has afligned to different tempers dii 
 ferent comforts. To you it gave the education of a prino' 
 the government of a ftate, the pride of being called the vvil 
 of a hero ; to me a good living hujband, quiet, opulence, n< 
 bility, and a fair reputation, though not in a degree fo e: 
 alted as your's. If our whole fex were to chufe between yo 
 confolations and mine, your highnefs, I think, would fi' 
 
 ve
 
 DIALOGUE XVII. 32 * 
 very few of your tafte*. But I refped the fublimity of your 
 !deas. Now that we have no bodies, they appear lefs unna- 
 tural than I fhould have thought them in the other world. 
 
 P. of OR. Adieu, madam; our fouls are of a different or- 
 der, and were not made to fympathize or converfe with eacli 
 other. 
 
 DIALOGUE XVII. 
 
 MARCUS BRUTUS. POMPONIUS ATTICUS. 
 
 BRUT. TT7ELL, Atticus, I find, that, notwithftanding 
 your friendfhip for Cicero and for me, you 
 furvived us both many years, with the fame chearful fpirit 
 you had always poffeffed, and, by prudently wedding your 
 daughter to Agrippa, fecured the favour of Oaavius Csefar, 
 and even combed a clofe alliance with him by your grand- 
 Daughter's marriage with Tiberius Nero. 
 
 ATT. You know, Brutus, my philofophy was the Epicu- 
 
 in. I loved my friends, and I ferved them in their wants 
 and diftrefles with great generoflty ; but I did not think my- 
 felf obliged to die when they died, or not to make others as 
 pccafions fhould offer. 
 
 BRUT. You did, I acknowledge, ferve your friends, as 
 ar as you could, without bringing yourfelf, on their account, 
 nto any great danger or disturbance of mind : but that you 
 bved them, J mu<?h doubt. If you loved Cicero, how could 
 jrou love Antony ? if you loved me, how could you love Oc- 
 avius ? if you loved Od.ivius, how could you avoid taking 
 Dart againft Antoriy in their laft civil war ? Affeaion cannot 
 3e fo ftrangely divided, and with fo much equality, among 
 Tien of fuch oppofite charaaers, and who were fuch irrecon- 
 dleable enemies to each other. 
 
 ATT. From my earlieft youth I poffeffed the fmgular ta- 
 ent of ingratiating myfelf with the heads of different parties, 
 md yet not engaging with any of them, fo far as to diflurb 
 ny own quiet. My family was connected with the Marian 
 frarty ; and, though I retired to Athens, that I might not 
 unwillingly involved in the troubles, which that turbulent 
 aft ion had begun to excite, yet, when young Marius was 
 Declared an enemy by the fenate, I lent him a fum of money, 
 o fupport him in his exile. Nor did this hinder me from 
 nakmg my court fo well to Sylla, upon his coming to Athens, 
 I obtained from him the highefl marks of his favour. 
 Y Neverthelefs,-
 
 322 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Neverthelefs, when he preffed me to go with him to Rome,* 
 I declined it, being as unwilling to fight for him againft the 
 Marian party, as for them againft him. He admired my 
 conduct ; and, at his departure from Athens, ordered all the 
 prefents made to him during his abode in that city, to be 
 carried to me. I remind you of this, only to fhew that mo- 
 deration in all contentions of this kind had been always my 
 principle ; and that in the inftances you mentioned I did not 
 a& from any levity or inconftancy in my nature, but from 
 a regular confident plan of conduct, which my reafon con- 
 vinced me was the wifeft I could follow. 
 
 BRUT. I remember, indeed, that you obferved the fame 
 neutrality between Pompey and Julius Caefar. 
 
 ATT. I did fo and that I might be able to do it with dig- 
 nity, and without the reproach of ingratitude, I never would 
 accept any office or honour from either of thofe great men ; 
 nor from Cicero, though my fifter had married his brother ; 
 nor from you, Marcus Brutus, whofe friendmip I thought 
 the greateft honour of my life. 
 
 BRUT. Are there no obligations to a good heart, Pompo- 
 nius, but honours and offices ? or could you, by refufmg to 
 encumber yourfelf with thefe, diflblve all other ties ? But, 
 fetting afide any confiderations of private affection or efleem, 
 how was you able to reconcile your condu6t with that which 
 is the ruling principle in the heart of every virtuous man, and 
 more efpecially a virtuous Roman, the love of the public? 
 
 ATT. The times I lived in were fo bad, and the conflict of 
 parties had fo little to do in reality with the love of the public, 
 that I thought my virtue much fafer and purer by avoiding, 
 than mixing in the fray. 
 
 BRUT. Poflibly, in the difpute between Marius and Sylla, 
 and even in that between Pompey and Csefar, a virtuous 
 man might fee fo much to blame on both fides, and fo much 
 to fear, which ever faction fhould overcome the other, as 
 to be juflified in not engaging with either. But let me fay, 
 without vanity, in the war which I waged againft Antony 
 and O&avius, you could have nothing to blame : for I know 
 you approved the principle upon which I killed Julius Csefar. 
 Nor had you any thing to fear if our arms had fucceeded ; 
 for you knew that my intentions were upright and pure ; 
 nor was it doubtful that Cafllus was as much determined as 
 I to reftore the Republic. How could you then, with any 
 fenfe of virtue in your heart, maintain an indifference and 
 
 neutrality 
 
 * Vide Cornel. Nepot. in Vita Attici.
 
 DIALOGUE XVII. 323 
 
 neutrality between the deliverers and the tyrants of your 
 country ? 
 
 ATT. My anfwer to this will neceflarily require explana- 
 tions, which my refpe& to the manes of Brutus makes me 
 wifh to avoid. 
 
 I BRUT. In the other world I loved truth, and was defirous 
 that all might fpeak it with freedom : but here even the ten- 
 der ears of a tyrant are compelled to endure it* If 1 com- 
 mitted any faults, or erred in my judgment^ the ealamities I 
 nave fuffered are a punifhment tor it. Tell me then truly, 
 and without fear of offending, what you think were my 
 Failings. 
 
 | ATT. You faid th:it the principle upon which you killed 
 fulius Crefar had my approbation. This I do not deny : 
 fcut did I ever declare, or give you reafon to believe, that I 
 [bought it a prudent or well-timed at r I had quite other 
 ihoughts. Nothing ever feemed to me worfe judged or worfi 
 *imed : and thefe, Brutus, were my reafons. Caefar was juil 
 etting out to make war on the Parthians. This was an en- 
 terprise of no little difficulty, and no little danger. But his 
 unbounded ambition, and that reftlefs fpirit, which never 
 ii'ould fuffer him to take any repofe, did not intend to flop 
 ihere. * You know very well, (for he hid nothing from you) 
 hat he had formed a vaft plan, of marching, after he had 
 lonquered the whole Parthian empire, along the coaft of the 
 ' ?aipian fea and the fides of Mount Caucafu?, into Scythia, 
 \n order to fubdue all the countries that border on Germany, 
 Jid Germany itfelf; from whence he propofed to return to 
 jlome by Gaul. Confider now, I befeech you, how much 
 me the execution of this project required. In fome of his 
 '. attles with fo many fierce and warlike nations, the braveft 
 L if all the barbarians, he might have been (lain: but if he 
 :ad not, difeafe, or age itfelf might have ended his life, before 
 3 could have compleated fuch an immenfe undertaking. He 
 as, when you killed him, in his fifty-fixth year, and of an 
 i6rm conftitution. Except his baftard by Cleopatra, he 
 'ad no fon : nor was his power fo abfolute, or fo quietly 
 .ttled, that he could have a thought of bequeathing the em- 
 re, like a private inheritance, to his filler's grandfonj Oc- 
 ivius. While he was abfent, there was no reafon to fear 
 iy violence, or male-adminiftration in Italy, or in Rome, 
 'icero would have had the chief authority in the fenate. 
 he prsetorfhip of the city had been conferred upon you by 
 e favour of Caefar ; and your known credit with him, 
 'Ided to the high reputation of your virtues and abilities, 
 Y 2 gave 
 
 * Vide Plutarch, in Vita Jul. Czfar.
 
 324 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 gave you a weight in all bufinefs, which none of his party* 
 left behind him in Italy, would have been able to oppofe. 
 What a fair profpet was here of good order, peace, and li- 
 berty at home, while abroad the Roman name would have 
 been rendered more glorious, the difgrace of Craflus reveng- 
 ed, and the empire extended beyond the utmoft ambition of 
 our forefathers, by the greateft general that ever led the ar- 
 mies of Rome, or, perhaps, of any other nation ! What did 
 it fignify, whether in Afia, and among the barbarians, that 
 general bore the name of king, or dictator? Nothing could 
 be more puerile in yon and your friends, than to ftart fo 
 much at the proportion of his taking that name in Italy it-i 
 felf, when you had fuffered him. to enjoy all the power of: 
 royalty, and much more than any king of Rome had pofleff-; 
 ed, from Romulus down to Tarquin. 
 
 BRUT. We confidered that name as the laft infult offered! 
 to our liberty and our laws. It was an enfign of tyranny, 
 hung out with a vain and arrogant purpofe of rendering the 
 fervitude of Rome more apparent. We therefore determined 
 to punifh the tyrant, and reftore our country to freedom. 
 
 ATT. You punifhed the tyrant, but you did not reftorej 
 your country to freedom. By fpafing Antony, againft thei 
 opinion of Caflius, you fuffered the tyranny to remain. Hd 
 was conful, and from the moment that Caefar was dead, the 
 chief power of the (late was in his hands. The foldiers 
 adored him for his liberality, valour, and military franknefs. 
 His eloquence was more perfuafive from appearing unftudied. 
 The nobility of his houfe, which defcended from Hercules, 
 would naturally inflame hi's heart with ambition. The whole 
 courfe of his life had evidently fhewn, that his thoughts were 
 high and afpiring, and that he had little refpefit for the li- 
 berty of his country. He had been the fecond man in Cae- 
 far's party : by faving him you gave a new head to that par- 
 ty, which could no longer fubfift without your ruin. Many ; 
 who would have wimed the reftoration of liberty, if Cosfai 
 had died a natural death, were fo incenfed at his murder, 
 that merely for the fake of punifhing that, they were willing 
 to confer all power upon Antony, and make him abfolutc 
 matter of the republic. This was particularly true with re- 
 fpecl to the veterans who had ferved under Caefar : and he 
 few it fo plainly, that he prefently availed himfelf of theii 
 difpofitions. Ycu and Caflius were obliged to fly out o: 
 Italy ; and Cicero, who was unwilling to take the fame parr 
 could find no expedient to fave himfelf and the fenate, bui 
 the wretched one of fupporting and railing very high ano 
 
 the:
 
 DIALOGUE XVII. 325 
 
 ther Caefar, the adopted fon and heir of him you had flain, 
 to oppofe Antony, and to divide the Casfarean party. But 
 even while he did this, he perpetually offended that party, 
 and made them his enemies, by harangues in the fenate, 
 which breathed the very fpirit of the old Pompeian fcaion, 
 and made him appear to Otavius, and all the friends of the 
 dead didator, no lefs guilty of his death, than thofe who 
 had killed him. What could this end in, but that which 
 you and your friends had moft to fear, a reunion of the whole 
 Csefarean party, and of their principal leaders, however dif- 
 cordant the one with the other, to deftroy the Pompeians? 
 For my own part, I forefaw it long before the event, and 
 therefore kept rayfelf wholly clear of thofe proceedings. j 
 You think I ought to have joined you and Caffius at Philippi^ 
 becaufe I knew your good intensions, and that, if you fuc- 
 ceeded, you defigned to reitore the commonwealth. I am 
 perfuaded you did both agree in that point ; but you differed 
 jn fo many others, there was fuch a diflimilitude in your tem- 
 pers and characters, that the union between you could not 
 have lafted long ; and your diflention would have had mod 
 fatal effeds, with regard both to the fettlement and to the 
 lidminiftration of the republic. Befides, the whole mafs of it 
 kas in fuch a fermentation, and fo corrupted, that I am con- 
 i/inced new diforders would foon have arifen. If you had ap- 
 iilied gentle remedies, to which your nature inclined, thofe 
 i-emedies would have failed : if Caffius had induced you to ad 
 ivith feverity, your government would have been fligmatized 
 frith the name of a tyranny more deferable than that againfl 
 jvhich you confpired; and Csfar's clemency would have been 
 ihe perpetual topic of every factious oration to the people, and 
 >f every feditious difcourfe to the foldiers. Thus you would 
 nave foon been plunged in trhe miferies of another civil war, 
 IT perhaps aflaifmated in the fenate, as Julius was by you. 
 Nothing could give the Roman empire a lafting tranquillity, 
 : ut fuch a prudent plan of a mitigated imperial power, as was 
 fterwards formed by Odavius, when he had ably and happily 
 jelivered himfelf from all oppofition and partnerfnip in the 
 lovernment. Thofe quiet times I lived to fee ; and I muft fay, 
 hey were the beft I ever had feen, far better than thofe under 
 ie turbulent ariftocracy for which you contended. And let 
 ie boaft a little of my own prudence, which, through fo many 
 orms, could fteer me fafe into that port. Had it only given 
 'e fatcty, without reputation, I ftiould not think that I ought 
 value rayfelf upon if. But in .all thefe revolutions my 
 
 honour
 
 326 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 honour remained as unimpaired as my fortune. I fo con- 
 duted myfelf, that I loft no efteem, in being Antony's friend, 
 after having been Cicero's; or in my alliance with Agrippa 
 and Auguftus Caefar, after my friendmip with you. Nor did 
 either Caefar or Antony blame my inacYion in the quarrels be- 
 tween them ; but on the contrary, they both feemed to re- 
 fpet me the more for the neutrality I obferved. My obliga- 
 tions to the one, and alliance with the other, made it improper 
 for me to at againft either : and my conftant tenour of life 
 had procured me an exemption from all civil wars by a kind of 
 prescription. 
 
 BRUT. If man were born to no higher purpofe, than to wear 
 out a long life in eafe and profperity, with the general efteem 
 of the world, your wifdom was evidently as much fupericr to 
 mine, as my life was fhorter and more unhappy than your's. 
 Nay, I verily believe, it exceeded the prudence of any other 
 man that ever exifted, confidering in what difficult circum- 
 ftances you were placed, and with how many violent (hocks 
 and fudden changes of fortune you were obliged to contend. 
 But here the moft virtuous and publlc-fpirited conduct is found 
 to have been the moft prudent. 'The motives of our actions,' 
 not the fuccefs, give us here renown. And, could I return tol 
 that life from whence I am efcaped I would not change myl 
 character to imitate your's : I would again be Brutus rather: 
 than Atticus. Even without the fweet hope of an eternal rej 
 ward in a more perfect ftate, which is the ftrqnge.ft and mod 
 immovable fupport to the good under every misfortune, I fweai 
 by the gods, I would not give up < the noble feelings of my 
 heart,' that elevation of mind which accompanies active anc 
 fuffering virtue, for your feventy-feven years of conftant tran- 
 quillity, with all the praife you obtained from the learned mei 
 whom you patronized, or the great men whom you courted 
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 
 
 WILLIAM THE THIRD, King of Fngland. JOHN DI 
 
 WITT, Penfionary of Holland. 
 
 WILL. '"THROUGH I had no caufe to love you, yet, be 
 
 I 
 
 me, I fincerely lament your fate. Who c 
 have thought that De Witt, the moft popular minifter 
 ever ferved a commonwealth, fhould fall a facrifice topo 
 fury ! Such admirable talents, fuch virtues as you were un 
 ed with, fo clear, fo cool, fo comprehenfwe a head, a hea: 
 (p umainted with any kind of vice, defpifing money,' defpifm 
 pleafure, defpifing the vain oftentation of greatncf^ fuch, ag 
 
 plipatic
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 327 
 
 plication, to bufmefs, fuch ability in it, fuch courage, fuch 
 firmnefs, and fo perfect a knowledge of thq nation you govern- 
 ed, Teemed to allure you of a fixed and ftable fupport in the 
 public affection. But nothing can be durable that depends on 
 the pafiions of the people. 
 
 DE WITT. It i verygenrous in yourmajefty not only to 
 compaflionate the fate of a'rn&njwhofe political principles made 
 him an enemy to your greatnefs, but afcribe it to the caprice and 
 inconftancy of the people ; as if there had been nothing very 
 blameable in his conduct. I feel the magnanimity of this dif- 
 courfe from your majefty, and it confirms what I have heard 
 of all your behaviour after my death. But I muft frankly 
 confefs, that although the rage of the populace was carried 
 much too far, when they tore me and my unfortunate brother 
 to pieces, yet I certainly had deferved to lofe their affection, 
 by relying too much on the uncertain and dangerous friendfhip 
 of France, and by weakening the military ftrength of the 
 (late, to ferve little purpofes of my own power, and fecure to 
 myfelf the interetled affection of the burgomafters, or others, 
 who had credit and weight in the faction, the favour of which 
 I courted. This had almoft fubjected my country to France, 
 iif you, great prince, had not been fet at the head of the fall- 
 ling republic, and had not exerted fuch extraordinary virtues 
 ar.d abilities, to raife and fupport it, as furpafled even the he- 
 Iroifm and prudence of William, our firft ftadrholder, and equal- 
 ped you to the moil illuftrious patriots of Greece or Rome. 
 
 WILL. This praife from your mouth is glorious to me in- 
 Jdeed! What can fo much exalt the character of a prince, as 
 to have his actions approved by a zealous republican, and the 
 tenemy of his houfe ! 
 
 DE WITT. If I did not approve them, I (hould mew my- 
 Telf the enemy of the republic. You never fought to tyrannise 
 over it; you loved, you defended, you preferved its freedom. 
 Thebes was not more indebted to Epaminondas, orPelopidas, 
 for its independance and glory, than the United Provinces were 
 nto you. How wonderful was it to fee a youth, wh had fcarce 
 utained to the twenty-fecond year of his age, whofe fpirit had 
 seen deprefled and kept down by a jealous and hoitile faction, 
 ifmg at once to the conduct of a moft arduous and perilous 
 war, flopping an enemy victorious, triumphant, who had pe- 
 ".etrated into the heart of his country ; driving him back, and 
 ;ecovering from him all he had conquered : to fee this done 
 vith an army, in which, a little before, there was neither dif- 
 ^ptine, courage nor fenfe of honour ! Ancient hiftory has no 
 xploit fuperior to it j and it will ennoble the modern, when- 
 ever
 
 328 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 ever a Livy or a Plutarch (hall arifc, to do juftice to h, and 
 fet the hero who performed it in a true light. 
 
 WILL. Say rather, when time fhall have worn out that 
 malignity and rancour of party, which in free ftates is fo apt 
 jo oppofe itfelf to the fentiments of gratitude and efteem for 
 their fervants and benefactors." 
 
 DE WITT. How magnanimous was your reply, how much 
 in the fpirit of true ancient virtue, when being afked, in the 
 Created extremity of pur danger,* " How you intended to live 
 ** after Holland was loft ?" You faid, " You wou'rd live on 
 *' the lands you had left in Germany, and had rather pafs 
 f f your life in hunting there, than fell your country or liberty 
 " to France at any rate !" How nobly did you think, when, 
 being offered your patrimonial lordmips and lands in the county 
 of Burgundy, or the full value of them from France by the 
 mediation of England, in the treaty of peace, your anfwer 
 was, '* That to gain one good town more for the Spaniards 
 ?' in Flanders, you would be content to lofe them all !" No 
 wonder, after this, that you were able to combine all Europe 
 in a league againft the power of France ; that you were the 
 center of union, and the directing foul of that wife, that gene- 
 rous confederacy, formed by your labours ; that you could 
 fteadily fupport and keep it together, in fpite of repeated mis- 
 fortunes ; that even after defeats you were as formidable to 
 Louis, as other generals after victories ; and that in the end you 
 became the deliverer of Europe, as you had before been of 
 Holland. 
 
 WILL. I had in truth no other objc6t, no other paflion at 
 heart, throughout my whole life, but to maintain the inde- 
 pendance and freedom of Europe, againft the ambition of 
 France. It was this defire which formed the whole plan of 
 my policy, which animated all my councils, both as prince 
 of Orange and king of England. 
 
 DK WITT. This defire was the moft noble (I fpeak it with 
 ihame) that could warm the heart of a prince, whofe ancef- 
 tors had oppofed, and in a great meafure deftroyed the power 
 of Spain, when that nation afpired to the monarchy of Europe. 
 France, fir, in your days, had an equal ambition and more 
 frrength to fupport her vaft dcfigns, than Spain under the go- 
 vernment of Philip the Second. That ambition you reftrained, 
 that ftrength you refifted. I, alas ! was (educed by her perfi- 
 dious court, and by the neceflity of affairs in that fyftern of 
 
 policy 
 
 *, See Temple's Memoirs from the year 1762 to 1679, p. 2'9 
 330, 321.-
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 329 
 
 policy which I had adopted, to afk her affiftance, to rely on 
 iher favour, and to make the commonwealth, whofe counfels 
 I direded, fubfervient to her greatnefs Permit me, fir, to 
 i explain to you the motives of my condud. If all the princes of 
 : Orange had aded like you, I mould never have been the ene- 
 my of your houfe. But prince Maurice of Naflau defjred to 
 icpprefs the liberty of that ftate, which his virtuous father hai 
 freed at the expence of his life, and which he himfelf had de- 
 ; fended, againft the arms of the houfe of Auftria, with the 
 Ihigheft reputation of military abilities. Under a pretence of 
 religion (the moft execrable cover of a wicked defign) he put to 
 ideath, as a criminal, that upright minifter, Barnevelt, his fa- 
 ther's beft friend, becaufe he refufed to concur with him in 
 trcafon againft the ftate. He likewife imprifoned feveral other 
 (good men and lovers of theircountry, confifcated their eftates, 
 :and ruined their families. Yet, after he had done thefe cruel 
 'acts of injuftice, with a view to make himfelf fovereign of the 
 (Dutch commonwealth, he found they had drawn fuch a gene- 
 iral odium upon him, that, not daring to accomplim his ini- 
 quitous purpofe, he flopped fhort of the tyranny to which he 
 had facrificed his honour and virtue . a difappointment fo mor- 
 Itifying, and fo painful to his mind, that it probably haftened 
 his death. 
 
 WILL. Would to heaven he had died before the meeting of 
 'that infamous fynpd of Dort, by which he not only difhonour- 
 ed himfelf and his family, but the Proteftant religion itfelf ! 
 Forgive this interruption my grief forced me to it I defire 
 you to proceed. 
 
 DEWrTT.The brother of Maurice, prince Henry, who fuc- 
 ceeded to his dignities in the republic, aded with more modera- 
 tion. But the fon of that good prince, your majefry's father, 
 (I am forry to fpeak what 1 know you hear with pain) refumed, 
 in the pride and fire of his youth,' the ambitious 4 defigns of his 
 uncle. He failed in his undertaking, and foon afterwards died, 
 but left in the hearts of the whole republican party an incura- 
 blejealoufyand dread of his family. Full of thefe prejudices, 
 and zealous for liberty, I thought it my duty, aspenfionary or" 
 Holland, to prevent for ever, if I could, your reftoration to 
 the power your anceftors had enjoyed, which I fincerely be- 
 lieved would be inconftftent with the fafety and freedom of my 
 country. 
 
 WILL. Let me flop you a moment here. When my great 
 
 grand-father formed the plan of the Dutch commonwealth he 
 
 made the power of a ftadtholder one of the principal fprin-s 
 
 s lyftem of government. How could you imagine thaHt 
 
 would
 
 330 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 would ever go well when deprived of this fpring, fo neceflary 
 to adjuft and balance its motions ? A conftitution originally 
 formed 'with no mixture of regal power may long be main- 
 tained in all its vigour and energy, without fuch a power ; 
 but, if any degree of monarchy was mixed from the beginning 
 in the principles of it, the forcing that out muft neceflarily dif- 
 order and weaken the whole fabric. This was particularly the 
 cafe in our republic. The negative voice of every fmall town 
 in the provincial ftates, the tedious flownefs of our forms and 
 deliberations, the facility with which foreign minifters may 
 feduce or purchafe the opinions of fo many perfons as have a 
 right to concur in all our refolutions, make it impoffible for 
 the government, even in the quieteft times, to be well carried 
 on, without the authority and influence of a ftadtholder, which 
 are the only remedy our conftitution has provided for thofe 
 evils. 
 
 DE WITT. I acknowledge they are. But I and my party 
 thought no evil fo great as that remedy ; and therefore we 
 fought for other more pleafing refources. One of thefe, upon 
 which we molt confidently depended, was the friendfhip of 
 France. I flattered myielf that the intereft of the French 
 would fecure to me their favour ; as your relation to the crown 
 of England might naturally raife in them a jealoufy of your 
 power. I hoped they would encourage the trade and com- 
 merce of the Dutch in oppofition to the Englifh, the ancient 
 enemies of their crown, and let us enjoy all the benefits of a per- 
 petual peace, unlefs we made war upon England, or England 
 upon us ; in either of which cafes it was reafonable to prefume 
 we mould have their affiltance. The French minifter at the 
 Hague, who ferved his court but too well, fo confirmed me 
 in thefe notions, that I had no apprehenfions of the mine 
 which was forming under my feet. 
 
 WILL. Yon found your authority flrengthened by a plan 
 fo agreeable to your party ; and this contributed more to de- 
 ceive your fagacity than all the art of D'Eftrades. 
 
 DE WITT. My policy feemed to me entirely fuitable to 
 the lailing fccurity of my own power, of the liberty of my 
 country, and of its maritime greatnefs. For I made it my 
 care to keep up a very powerful navy, well commanded and 
 officered, for the defence of all thefe againft the Englifh ; but, 
 as I feared nothing from France, or any power on the conti- 
 nent, I neglected the army ; or rather I deftroyed it, by ener- 
 vating all its flrength, by difbanding old troops and veteran of- 
 ficers attached to the houfe of Orange, and putting in their 
 place a trading militia, commanded by officers who had neither 
 
 experience
 
 DIALOGUE XVIH. 33I 
 
 experience nor courage, and who owed their promotions to 
 no other merit, but their relation to, or interefl: with fome 
 leading men in the feveial oligarchies, of which the govern- 
 ment in all the dutch downs is compofed. Neverthelefs, on the 
 invafion of Flanders by the French, I was forced to depart 
 from my clofe connexion with France, and to concur with 
 England and Sweden in the triple alliance, which Sir William 
 Temple propofed, in order to check her ambition : but as I 
 entered into that meafure from necefTity, not from choice, I 
 did not purfue it. I neglected to improve our union with Eng- 
 land, or to fecure that with Sweden ; I avoided any conjunc- 
 tion of counfels with Spain ; I formed no alliance with the Em- 
 peror or the Germans ; I corrupted our army more and more ; 
 till a fudden, unnatural confederacy, ftruck up againlt all the 
 maxims of policy, by the court of England with France, for 
 the conqueft of the Seven Provinces, brought thefe at once to 
 the very brink of deftruction, and made me a victim to the 
 fury of a populace too juftly provoked. 
 
 WILL. I muft fay, that your plan was in reality nothing 
 more than to procure for the Dutch " a licence to trade, un- 
 der the good pleafure and gracious protection of France." 
 But any ftate that fo entirely depends on another, is only a 
 province, and its liberty is a" fervitude graced with a fweet but 
 empty name. You mould have reflected, that to a monarch fo 
 ambiiious and fo vain as Louis le Grand, the idea of a con- 
 queft, which feemed almoft certain, and the defire of humbling 
 a haughty republic, were temptations irrefiilible. His bigotry 
 likewife would concur in recommending to him an enterprife, 
 which he might think would put herefy under his feet. And 
 if you knew either the character of Charles the Second, or 
 the principles of his government, you ought not to have fup- 
 pofed his union with France for the ruin of Holland an impof- 
 fible, or even improbable event. It is hardly excufable in a 
 ftatefman to be greatly furprized, that the inclinations of prin- 
 ces mould prevail upon them to act, in many particulars} 
 without any regard to the political maxims and interefl: of their 
 kingdoms. 
 
 DE WITT. I am alhamed of my error ; but the chief 
 
 ' caufe of it was, that though I thought very ill, I did not think 
 
 : quite fo ill of Charles the Second and his miniftry as they de- 
 
 ferved.* I imagined too that his parliament would retrain him 
 
 from engaging in fuch a war, or compel him to engage in our 
 
 defence, 
 
 See Temple's Memoirs from the year i6yZ to 1679, p. 2>9
 
 33 a DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 defence, if France mould attack us. Thefe, I acknowledge, are 
 excujes, not juftifications. When the French marched into Hoi- 
 land, and found it in a condition fo unable to refift them, my 
 fame as a minifter irrecoverably funk. For, not to appear a 
 traitor, I was obliged to confefs myfelf a dupe. But what 
 praife is fujficient for the wifdom and virtue you (hewed, in 
 fo firmly rejecting the offers, which I have been informed were 
 made to you, both by England and France, when firft you 
 appeared in arms at the head of your country, to give you 
 * the fovereignty of the Seven Provinces,' by the afliftance, and 
 under the protection, of the two crowns ! Believe me, great 
 prince, had I been living in thofe times, and had known the 
 generous anfwers you made to thofe offers, which were re- 
 peated more than once during .the courfe of ftie war ; not the 
 moft ancient and devoted fervant to your family would have 
 been more your friend than I. But who could reafonably hope 
 for fuch moderation, and fuch a right fenfe of glory, in the 
 mind of a young man, defcended from kings, whofe mother 
 was daughter to Charles the Firft, and whofe father had left 
 him thefeducing example of a very different conduct ? Happy 
 indeed was the Englifh nation to have fuch a prince fo nearly 
 allied to their crown both in blood and by marriage, whom 
 they might call to be their deliverer, when bigotry and def- 
 potifm, the two greateft enemies to human fociety, had almofl 
 overthrown their whole conflitution in church and (late ! 
 
 WILL. They might have been happy ; but were not. 
 As foon as I had accomplifhed their deliverance for them, many 
 of them became my moft implacable enemies, and even wifhed 
 to reftore the unforgiving prince, whom they had fo unani- 
 moufly and fo juftly expelled from his kingdom. Such levity 
 feems incredible. I could not myfelf have imagined it poiTible, 
 in a nation famed for goo d fenfe, if I had not had proofs of it 
 beyond contradiction. They feemed as much to forget ' what 
 they called me over for,' as * that they had called me over.' 
 The fccurity of their religion, the maintenance of their liberty, 
 were no longer their care. All was to yield to the incompre- 
 henfiblc dotrine of right divine and pajjive obedience. Thus 
 the Tories grew Jacobites, after having renounced both that 
 doctrine and James, by their oppofuion to him, by the invi- 
 tation of me, and by every act of the parliament which gave 
 ine the crown. But the mofl troublefome of my enemies were 
 a fett of Republicans, who violently oppofed all my meafures, 
 and joined with the Jacobites in difturbing my government, 
 only becaufe it was not a commonwealth. 
 
 Dp
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 3,3 
 
 DE WITT. They- who were republicans under your go- 
 vernment in the kingdom of England did not love liberty, but 
 afpired to dominion and wimed to throw the nation into a total 
 confufion, that it might give them a chance of working out 
 from that anarchy a better {late for themfelves. 
 
 WILL. Your obfervation is juft. A proud man thinks him- 
 felf a lover of liberty, when he is only impatient of a power 
 in government above his own, and, were he a king, or the firft 
 | minifter of a king, would be a tyrant. Nevertheless I will own 
 ! to you, with the candour which becomes a virtuous prince, that 
 j there were in England fome Whigs, and even fome of the 
 : mod fober and moderate Tories, who, with very honed inten- 
 tions, and fometimes with good judgements, propofed new fe- 
 curities to the liberty of the nation, againft the prerogative or 
 ; influence of the crown, and the corruption of minifters in fu- 
 | ture times. To fome of thefe I gave way, being convinced 
 they were right ; but others 1 reHfted, for fear of weakening 
 too much the royal authority, and breaking that balance, in 
 | which eonfifts the perfection of a mixed form of government. 
 I mould not, perhaps, have refifted fo many, if I had not feen 
 
 in the houfe of commons a difpofition to rife in their demands 
 
 on the crown, had they found it more yielding.' The difficul- 
 j ties of my government, upon the whole, were fo great, that 
 
 I once had determined, from mere difguft and refentment, to 
 
 give back to the nation, aflembled in parliament, the crown 
 they had placed on my head, and retire to Holland, where I 
 found more affedion and gratitude in the people. But I was 
 flopped by the earneft Applications of my friends, and by an 
 unwillingnefs to undo the great work I had done : efpeciallv as 
 I knew, that, if England mould return into the hands of k'injc 
 James, it would be impoflible, in that crifis, to preferve the 
 reft of Europe from the dominion of France. 
 
 DE WITT. Heaven be praifed that your majefty did not 
 perfevere in fo fatal a refolution ! The United Provinces would 
 have been ruined by it together with England. But I cannot 
 enough exprefs my aftonifhment, that you fhould have met 
 with fuch treatment as could fuggeft fuch a thought ! The 
 Englifh muft fure be a people incapable either of liberty or 
 fubje&ioh ! 
 
 WILL. There were, I muft acknowledge, fome faults in 
 my temper, and fome in my government, which are an ex- 
 cufe for my fubjeds with regard to the uneafmefs and difquiet 
 they gave me. My taciturnity, which fuited the genius of the 
 Dutch, offended theirs. They love an affable prince : it was 
 chiefly his affability that made them fo fond of Charles the 
 
 Second,
 
 334 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Second. Their franknefs and good-humour could not brook 
 the referve and coldnefs of my nature. Then the excefs of 
 my favour to fome of the Dutch, whom I had brought over 
 with me, excited a national jealoufy in the Englifh, and hurt 
 their pride. My government alfo appeared, at laft, too un- 
 fteady, too fluctuating between the Whigs and the Tories, 
 which almoft deprived me of the confidence and affection 
 of both parties. I trufted too much to the integrity and the pu- 
 rity of my intentions, without ufmg thofe arts that are necef- 
 fary to allay the ferment of factions and allure men to their 
 duty by foothing their paffions. Upon the whole, I am fen- 
 fible that I better underftood how to govern the Dutch than 
 the Englifh or the Scotch, and fhould probably have been 
 thought a greater man, if I had not been king of Great Britain. 
 
 DE WITT. It is a fhame to the Englifh, that gratitude, 
 and affection for fuch merit as yours, were not able to over- 
 come any little difguft arifing from your temper, and enthrone 
 their deliverer in the hearts of his people. But will your 
 majefty give me leave to afk you one queftion ? Is it true, as 
 I have heard, that many of them difliked your alliances on the 
 continent, and fpoke of your war with France as a Dutch mea- 
 fure y in which you facrificed England to Holland ? 
 
 WILL. The cry of the nation at firft was ftrong for the 
 war : but before the end of it the Tories began publickly to 
 talk the language you mention. And no wonder they did ; 
 for, as they then had a defireto fet up again the maxims of go- 
 vernment which had prevailed in the reign of their beloved 
 Charles the Second, they could not but reprefent oppofition to 
 France, and vigorous meafures taken to reftrain her ambition, 
 as unneceffary for England : becaufe they well knew that the 
 counfels of that king had been utterly averfe to fuch meafures ; 
 that his whole policy made him a friend to France ; that he 
 was governed by a French miftrefs, and even bribed by French 
 money, to give that court his afliflance, or at leaft his acquief- 
 cence, in all their defigns. 
 
 DE WITT. A king of England, whofe cabinet is governed 
 by France, and who becomes a vile penfioner to a French king, 
 degrades himfelf from his royalty, and ought to be confidered 
 as an enemy to the nation. Indeed the whole policy of Charles 
 the Second, when he was not forced off from his natural bias, 
 by the neceflity he lay under of foothing his parliament, was . 
 aconftant, deftgned, fyftematical oppofition to the intereft of 
 his people. His brother, though more fenfible to the honour 
 of England, was, by his Popery and defire of arbitrary power, 
 conftramed to lean upon France, and do nothing to obftruft 
 
 her
 
 DIALOGUE XVIII. 33S 
 
 her defigns on the continent, or leflen her greatnefs. It was 
 therefore neceflary to place the Britifh crown on your head, 
 not only with a view to preferve the religious and civil rights 
 \ ot the people from internal oppreflions, but to refcue the whole 
 I ftate from that fervile dependance on its natural enemy, which 
 fmuft unqueftionably have ended in its deftru&ion. What 
 5 folly was it to revile your meafures abroad, as facrificing the 
 [ intereft of your Britifh dominions to connexions with the con- 
 ; tinent, and principally with Holland ! had Great Britain np 
 t intereft to hinder the French from being matters of all the 
 j Auftrian Netherlands, and forcing the Seven United Provinces, 
 her ftrongeft barrier on the continent againft the power of that 
 ^nation, to fubmit with the reft to their yoke ? would her trade 
 j would her coafts, would her capital itfelf, have been fafe after 
 I fo mighty an encreafe of Ihipping and failors, as France would 
 \ have gained by thofe conquefts ? and what could have pre- 
 vented them, but the war which you waged, and the allian- 
 ces which you formed ? could the Dutch and the Germans, 
 unaided by Great Britain, have attempted to make head againft 
 a power, which, even with her afliftance, ftrong and fpirited 
 as it was, they could hardly refift ? And after the check which 
 had been given to the encroachments of France, by the efforts 
 of the/r/? grand alliance, did not a new and greater danger 
 make it necelTary to recur to another fuch league ? was not 
 the union of France and Spain under one monarch, or even 
 under one family, the moft alarming contingency that ever had 
 (threatened the liberty of Europe ? 
 
 WILL. I thought fo ; and I am fure I did not err in my 
 judgement. But folly is blind ; and fadion wilfully fhuts 
 her eyes againft the moft evident truths that crofs her defigns ; 
 as fhe believes any lies, however palpable and abfurd, that 
 ihe thinks will aflift them. 
 
 DE WITT. The only objection which feems to have any 
 real weight againft your fyftem of policy, with regard to the 
 maintenance of a balance of power in Europe, is the enormous 
 expence that mtift necefiarily attend it ; an expence which I 
 am afraid neither England nor Holland will be able to bear 
 without extreme inconvenience. 
 
 WILL. I will anfwer that objeaion by aflcing a queftion. 
 If, when you was penfionary of Holland, intelligence had 
 oeen brought, that the dykes were ready to break, and the fea 
 was coming in, to overwhelm and to drown us, what would 
 you have faid to one of the deputies, who, when you were 
 Dropofmg the proper repairs to ftop the inundation, fhoukl 
 wave objeded to the charge, as too heavy on the province ? 
 
 This
 
 336 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 This was the cafe in a political fenfe with both England and 
 Holland. The fences ratfed to keep out fuperftition and ty- 
 ranny were all giving way : thofe dreadful evils were threaten- 
 ing, with their whole accumulated force, to break in upon us, 
 and overwhelm our ecclefiaftical and civil conftitution In 
 fuch circumftances to object to a neceffary expence is folly 
 and madnefs. 
 
 DE WITT. Itiscertain, Sir, that the utmoft abilities of a 
 nation can never be fo well employed, as in the unwearied, 
 pertinacious defence of their religion and freedom. When 
 thefe are loft, there remains nothing that is worth the concern 
 of a good or wife man. Nor do I think it confident with the 
 prudence of government not to guard againft future dangers, 
 as well as prefent ; which precaution muft be often in fame 
 degree expenfive. I acknowledge too, that the refources of a 
 commercial country, which lupports its trade, even in war, 
 by invincible fleets, and takes care not to hurt it in the me- 
 thods of impofing or collecting its taxes, are immenfe, and 
 inconceivable till the trial is made ; efpecially where the go- 
 vernment, which demands the fupplies, is agreeable to the 
 people. But yet an unlimited and continued expence will in 
 the end be deftru&ive. What matters it whether a ftate is 
 mortally wounded by the hand of a foreign enemy, or dies by 
 a confumption of its own vital ftrength ? Such a confumption 
 will come upon Holland fooner than upon England, becaufe 
 the latter has a greater radical force : but, great as it is, that 
 force at laft will be fo diminifhed and exhaufted by perpetual 
 drains, that it may fail all at once, and thofe efforts, which 
 may feem moft furprifingly vigorous, will be in reality the 
 convuljions of death. I don't apply this to your majefty's go- 
 vernment ; but I fpeak with a view to what may happen 
 hereafter from the extenfive ideas of negotiation and war which 
 you have eftablimed. They have been falutary to your king- 
 dom ; but they will, I fear, be pernicious in future times, if, 
 in purfuing great plans, great minifters do not act with a fo-i 
 briety, prudence, and attention to frugality which very feldom 
 are joined with an extraordinary vigour and boldnefs of counfels. 
 
 DIALOGUE
 
 DIALOGUE 337 
 
 DIALOGUE XIX. 
 
 M. APICIUS DARTENEUF. 
 
 DART. A LAS ! poor Apicius! I pity thee from my heart, 
 /~X for not having lived in my age and in my coun- 
 ry. How many good difties, unknown at Rome in thy davs, 
 rave I feafted upon in England ! 
 
 API. Keep your pity for yourfelf. How many good difties 
 lave I feafted upon in Rome, which England does not pro- 
 liice, or of which the knowledge has been loft, with other 
 reafures of antiquity, in thefe degenerate days ! The fat paps 
 fa fow, the livers of fcari, the brains of pheenicopters, and the 
 ripotanum, which confifted of three excellent forts of fifh, for 
 ^hich you Englim have no names, the lupus marinus, the myxo, 
 nd the muresna, 
 
 DART. I thought the murana had been our lamprey. We 
 ive delicate ones in the Severn ! 
 
 I API. No : the muraena, fo refpeded by the ancient Ro 
 iian fenators, was a lalt-water fifti, and kept by our nobks in 
 :onds, into which the fea was admitted. 
 [DART. Why then I dare fay our Severn lampreys are bet- 
 
 Did you ever eat any of them ftewed or potted ? 
 [API. I was never in Britain. Your country then was too 
 .arbarous for me to go thither. I ftiould have been afraid 
 lat the Britons would have eat me. 
 
 DART. I am forry for you, very forry : for if yon never 
 ere in Britain, you never eat the beft oyfters. * 
 
 API. Pardon me, Sir, your Sandwich oyfters were brought 
 ) Rome in my time, f 
 
 DART. They could not be frefti : they were good for no- 
 iing there. You fhould have come to Sandwich to eat thm. 
 
 is a fliame for you that you did not. An epicure talk of 
 inger when he is in fearch of a dainty ! Did not Leander 
 vim over the Hellefpont in a tempeft, to get to his miftrefs ? 
 id what is a wench to a barrel of exquifite oyfters ? 
 
 API. Nay I arn fure you can't blame me for any want of 
 
 ertnefs in feeking fine fifties. I failed to the coaft of Africk, 
 
 om Minturnae in Campania, only to tafte of one fpecies, 
 
 ^ which 
 
 See St. Evremond's Letters. - 
 
 t See Juvenal and Pliny. Arbuthnct on antient Coins c < 
 irs. 2 . 
 
 See Atfcenseus, and Bayle in his Notes to the article Apicks.
 
 238 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 which I heard *-as larger there than it was on our coafl, and 
 finding that I had received a falfe information, I returned im- 
 mediately, without even deigning to land. 
 
 DART. There was fome fenfe in that : but why did not you 
 alfo make a voyage to Sandwich ? Had you once tafted thofe 
 cyders in their higheft perfeaion, you would never have come 
 back : you would have eat till you burft. 
 
 API. I wifli I had : It would have been better than poifon- 
 ing myfelf, as I did, at Rome,* becaufe I found, upon the ba- 
 lance of my accounts, I had only the pitiful fum of fourfcore 
 thoufand pounds left, which would not afford me a table to 
 keep me from ftarving. 
 
 DART. A fum of fourfcore thoufand pounds not keep you 
 from ftarving ! Would I had had it ! I mould have been twenty 
 years in fpending it, with the bed table in London. 
 
 API. Alas poor man ! this mews that you Englifti have no 
 idea of the luxury that reigned in our tables.^ Before 1 died,, 
 I hadfpent in my kitchen 807,291 1. 135. 4d. 
 
 DART. I don't believe a word of it : there is certainly an 
 error in the account. 
 
 API- Why the eftablifhment of Lucullus for his iuppers in 
 the Apollo, I mean for every fupper he fat down to in the 
 room which he called by that name, was 5000 drachms, 
 which is in your money 1614!- us. 8d. 
 
 DART. Would I had fupped with him there ! But are you 
 fure there is no blunder in thefe calculations ? 
 
 API. Afk your learned men that. I reckon as they tell mei 
 But you may think that thefe feafts were made only by greav; 
 men, by triumphant generals, like Lucullus, who had plun 
 dered all Afia, to help him in his houfekeeping. || What wil 
 you fay, when I tell you that the player ^fopus had one difl, 
 that cofl him fix thoufand feftertia, that is, four thoufam 
 eight hundred and forty-three pounds ten millings Englim ? 
 
 DART. What will I fay? why, that I pity my worth| 
 friend, Mr. Cibber ; and that, if I had known this, wheiji 
 alive, I mould have hanged myfelf for vexation that I did no 
 live in thofe days. 
 
 API. Well you might, well you might. You don): 
 
 know what eating is. You never could know it. Nothin 
 lefs than the wealth of the Roman empire u fufficient to em 
 
 b 
 
 * See Senec. de Confol. ad Helviam. Martial. Epig. 22. 1. 
 Baylt, Apicius. See Arbuthnot, p. 1 16. 
 I See Arlu'.hnot. p. 1 16. 
 See Arbuthnot, p. 133. 
 || Arbuthnot, p. 133." Plin. 1. x. c. 60. 

 
 D I A L O G U E XIX; 339 
 
 We a man of tafte to keep a good table. OUF players were 
 infinitely richer than your princes. 
 
 DART. Oh that I had but lived in the blefled reign of 
 Cahgula, or of \itellius, or of Heliogabalus, and had been 
 admitted to the honour of dining with their ftaves ! 
 
 APIC. Ay, there you touch me. I am miferable that I 
 died before their good times.* .They carried the glories of 
 their table much farther than the beft eaters of the a*e in 
 which I lived. Vitellius fpent in feafting, within the com- 
 pa.s ct one year, what would amount in your money to 
 above feven m.llions two hundred thoufand pounds, f He told 
 - fo himfclf m a conversion I had with him not lone 
 ago. And the two others you mentioned did not fall very 
 ihort ot his royal magnificence,, 
 
 DART. Thefe indeed were great princes. But what moft 
 itteci, me is the luxury of tha.t upftart fellow ^Efopus Pray 
 tf what ingredients might the dim, he paid fo much for, con- 
 
 AP ic Chiefly of ftnging birds.l It was that which fo 
 greatly enhanced the price. 
 
 ! DA T L WfpWKr*! choak'him. -I never eat but 
 ne, which I hole out of it's cage from a lady of my ac 
 uamtance, and all London was in an uproar, as if I had 
 tolen androafted an only child. But, upon recolledion I 
 loubt whether I have really fo much caufe to envy /Efopus. 
 ror \hzfingmg bird which I eat was not fo good as a wheat 
 fater or btcafigue. And therefore I fufped that all the luxury 
 tou have bragged of was nothing but vanity. It was like 
 lie foohfli extravagance of the fon of ^Efopus, who diffolved 
 sails in vinegar and drank them at fupper. I will ftake my 
 edit, that a haunch of good buck venifon, and my favourite 
 vn pye , were much better dimes than any at the table of 
 itelhus himfelf. It does not appear that you ancients ever 
 *0 any good foops, without which a man of tafte cannot 
 ffibly dine. The rabbits in Italy are deteftable : but what 
 better than the wing of one of our Englifh wild rabbits ? 
 have been told you had no turkies. The mutton in Italy 
 Jll-fiavoured. And as for your boars roajled whole, they 
 ^re cnly fit to be ferved up at a corporation feaft or clec- 
 >n dinner. A fmall barbecued bog is worth a hundred of 
 |em. And a good collar of Canterbury or Shrewsbury 
 lawn is a much better dim. 
 
 Z2 APIC. 
 
 *SeeBayle, Apicius. Athensus, 1. i. p 7 
 t /rbuthnot, c. 5. I Arbuthnof; p. ,,,. 
 
 Tope's Imit. of Hor. Sat. I. 1. 46.
 
 340 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 ' APIC If you had Come fneatt that we wanted, yet our 
 cookery muft have been greatly fuperior to your's. Our 
 cooks were fo excellent, that they could give to hog s fl< 
 the tafte of all other meats ': 
 
 DART I mould never have endured their imitations. 
 You might as eafily -have impofed on a good cmnoi/eurm ;. 
 painting the copy of a fine pidure for the original. Our cooks, 
 on the contrfry, give to all other meats, and even to feme 
 kinds of fifh, a rich flavour of bacon, without deftroymg 
 that which makes the diftinaion of one from another. 
 does not appear to me that e/ence of hams was ever known to 
 the ancients. We have a hundred ragouts, the compofitio 
 ot which furpafles all defcription. Had your's been as good, 
 you could not have lain indolently lolling upon couches, 
 while you were eating. They would have made you lit np 
 and mind your bufmefs. Then you had a ftrange cuftom of 
 hearing things read to you while you were at fupper. 
 demonftrates that you were not fo well entertained as we a, 
 with our meat. When I was at table, I neither heard nor 
 faw, nor fpoke . I only tafted. But the word of all is, that, 
 in the utmoft perfeaion of your luxury, you had no wine 
 to be named with claret, burgundy, champagne, old 
 or tokay You boafted much of your Falernum : but J 
 have tafted the Lacbrym* CbriJK, and other wines of that 
 coaft, not one of which would I have drunk above a glafs or 
 two of if YOU would have given me the kingdom of Naples J. 
 have read that you boiled your wines, and mixed watet 
 with them; which is fufficient evidence that in themfelv*! 
 they were not fit to drink. 
 
 APIC. 1 am afraid you do really exeell us in wines ; no 
 to mention your beer, your cyder, and your perry, ot 
 which t have heard great fame from your countrymen; a 
 their report has been confirmed by the teft.mony ' ot the. 
 neighbours, who have travelled into England^ Wonder ft 
 Lgs have been alfo faid to me of an Enghm liquor calle 
 
 ART Ay to have died without rafting that is rnifen 
 ble indeed! There is rum punch, and arrack punch ! 
 difficult to fay which is beft ; but Jupiter would have giV< 
 his neaar for either of them, upon my word and honour. 
 APIC. The thought of them puts me into a tever 
 
 AR. Thefe incomparable liquors are brought to us fro. 
 theEaft and Weft Indies, of the firft of which you H 
 little, and of the latter nothing. This alone 
 
 * See Arbuthnot, c. 5.
 
 DIALOGUE XIX. 341 
 
 determine the difpute. What a new world of good things 
 for eating and drinking has Columbus opened to us ! Think 
 of that, and defpair. 
 
 APIC. I cannot indeed but exceedingly lament my ill fate, 
 that America was not difcovered, before I was born. It tor- 
 tures me when I hear of chocolate, pine apples, and a num- 
 ber of other fine fruits, or delicious meats, produced there, 
 which I have never tafted. 
 
 DART. The fingle advantage of having fugar, to fweeten 
 every thing with, inftead of honey, which you, for want of 
 the other, were obliged to make ufe of, is ineftimable. 
 
 APIC. I confefs your fuperiority in that important article. 
 But what grieves me mod is, that I never eat a turtle. They 
 tell me that it is absolutely the beft of all foods ! 
 
 DART. Yes, I have heard the Americans fay fo: but I 
 never eat any : for in my time they were not brought over 
 to England. 
 
 APIC. Never eat any turtle! How could'ft thou dare to 
 accufe me of not going to Sandwich, to eat oyfters, and 
 didft not thyfelf take a trip to America, to riot on turtles ? 
 But know, wretched man, I am credibly informed, that they 
 are now as plentiful in England as fturgeons. There are tur- 
 tle-boats that go regularly to London and Briftol from the 
 Weft-Indies. I have juft received this information from a 
 fat alderman, who died in London lafl week, of a furfeit he 
 got at a turtle feaft in that city. 
 
 DART. What does he fay? does he affirm to you that 
 turtle is better than venifon ? 
 
 AFIC. He fays, there was a haunch of the fatted venifon 
 untouched, while every mouth was employed on the turtle 
 alone. 
 
 DART. Alas ! how imperfect is human felicity ! I lived 
 in an age when the noble fcience of eating was fuppofed to have 
 been carried to its higheft perfection in England and France. 
 And yet a turtle feajl is a novelty to me ! Would it be im- 
 poflible, do you think, to obtain kave from Pluto of going 
 back for one day to my own table at London, juft to tafte 
 1 of that food ? I would promife to kill myfelf by the quantity 
 of it I would eat before the next morning. 
 
 APIC. You have forgot you have no body : that which 
 you had has long been rotten: and you can never return to 
 the earth with another, unlefs Pythagoras fhould fend you 
 thither to animate a hog. But comfort yourfelf, that, as you 
 have eaten dainties which I never tafted, fo the next age will 
 1 eat fome unknown to this. New difcoveries will be made, 
 
 and
 
 342 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 and new delicacies brought from other parts of the world. 
 But fee ; who comes hither ? I think it is Mercury. 
 
 MER. Gentlemen, I muft tell you, that 1 have flood rear 
 you invifible, and heard your difcourfe ; a privilege which, 
 you know, we deities ufe as often as we pleafe. Attend 
 therefore to what I (hall communicate to you, relating to 
 the fubjeft upon which you have been talking. I know two 
 men, one of whom lived in ancient, and the other in modern 
 times, who had much more pleafure in eating than either of 
 you, through the whole courfe of your lives. 
 
 APIC. One of thefe happy epicures, I prefume, was a 
 Sybarite, and the other a French gentleman fettled in the 
 Weft Indies. 
 
 MER. No : one was a Spartan foldier, and the other an 
 Englifh farmer. I fee you both look aftonifhed. But what I 
 tell you is truth. Labour and hunger gave a relifh to the 
 black broth of the former, and the fait beef of the latter, be- 
 yond what you ever found in the tripotanums or ham pys, that 
 vainly ftimulated your forced and languid appetites, which per- 
 petual indolence weakened, and conftant luxury overcharged. 
 
 DART. This, Apicius, is more mortifying than not to 
 have (hared a turtle feaft. 
 
 APIC. I wifh, Mercury, you had taught me your art of 
 (oakery in my life-time : but it is a fad thing not to know 
 what good living is till after one is dead. 
 
 "*: DIALOGUE XX. 
 
 ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 
 
 CHARLES the Twelfth, King of Sweden. 
 
 ALEX. "Vf OU R majefty feems in great wrath! Who has 
 j[ offended you ? 
 
 CHAR. The offence is to you as much as me. Here is a 
 fellow admitted into Elyfium, who has affronted us both : an 
 Englifli poet, one Pope.* He has called us two madmen! 
 
 ALEX. I have been unlucky in poets. No prince ever was 
 fonder of the Mufes than I, or has received from them a 
 -more ungrateful return ! When I was alive, I declared that 
 I envied Achilles, becaufe he had a Homer to celebrate his 
 exploits ; and I moft bountifully rewarded Chcerilus, a pre- 
 tender to poetry, for writing verfes on mine : but my libera- 
 lity, inftead of doing me honour, has fince drawn upon me 
 the ridicule of JJorace, a witty Roman poet j and Lucan, 
 
 another 
 
 * Pope's Eflay on Man, ep. iv. 1. 219, 20.
 
 D I A L O G U E XX. 343 
 
 another verfifier of the fame nation, has loaded my memory 
 with the harlheft inve&ives. 
 
 CHAR. I know nothing of thefe ; but I know that in my 
 time, a pert French fatirift, one Boileau,* made fo free with 
 your character, that I tore his book for having abufed my fa- 
 vourite hero. And now this faucy Englifhman has libelled 
 us both. But I have a propofal to make to you for the re- 
 paration of our honour. If you will join with me, we will 
 turn all thefe infolent fcribblers out of Elyfium, and throw 
 them down headlong to the bottom of Tartarus, in fpite of 
 Pluto and all his guards. 
 
 ALEX. This is juft fuch a fcheme as that you formed at 
 Bender, to maintain yourfelf there, with the aid of three 
 hundred Swedes, againft the whole force of the Ottoman 
 empire. And I muft fay, that fuch follies gave the Englifh 
 poet too much caufe to call you a madman. 
 
 CHAR. If my heroifm was madnefs, your's, I prefume, 
 was not wifdom. 
 
 ALEX. There was a vaft difference between yourcondu& 
 
 and mine. Let poets or declaimers fay what they will, hif- 
 
 tory fhews, that I was not only the braveft foldier, but one 
 
 of the ableft commanders the world has ever feen. Whereas 
 
 you, by imprudently leading your army into vaft and barren 
 
 ; deferts, at the approach of the winter, expofed it to perifh in 
 
 ' its march for want of fubfiftence, loft your artillery, loft a 
 
 great number of your foldiers, and were forced to fight with 
 
 the Mufcovites under fuch difadvantages, as made it almoft 
 
 ; impoflible for you to conquer. 
 
 CHAR. I will not difpute your fuperiority as a general. It 
 ; is not for me, a mere mortal, to contend with the fan of Ju- 
 piter Amman. 
 
 ALEX. I fuppofe you think my pretending that Jupiter was 
 my father as much entitles me to the name of a madman, as 
 | your extravagant behaviour at Bender does you. But you 
 i are greatly miftaken. It was not my vanity, but my policy, 
 which fet up that pretenfion. When I propofed to under- 
 take the conqueft of Afia, it was neceffary for me to appear 
 i to the people fomething more than man. They had been 
 ufed to the idea of demigod heroes. I therefore claimed an 
 equal defcent with Ofiris and Sefoftris, with Bacchus and 
 Hercules, the former conquerors of the Eaft. The opinion 
 of my divinity affifted my arms, and fubdued all nations be- 
 fore me, from the Granicus to the Ganges. But, though I 
 called myfelf the [on of Jupiter, and kept up the veneration 
 that name infpired, by a courage which feemed more than 
 
 human, 
 * See PorriatOM'fki's remarks on Voltaire's Hiftory of CharksXiL
 
 344 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 human, and by the fublime magnanimity of all my behavi- 
 our, I did not forget that I was the fan of Philip. I ufed the 
 policy of my father, and the wife leffons of Ariftotle, whom 
 he had made my preceptor, in the conduct of all my great 
 defigns. It was the fan of Philip who planted Greek colonies 
 in Afia, as far as the Indies ; who formed projects of trade 
 more extenfive than his empire itfelf ; who laid the founda- 
 tions of them in the midft of his wars ; who built Alexan- 
 dria, to be the centre and flaple of commerce between Eu- 
 rope, Afia, and Africk ; who fent Nearchus to navigate the 
 unknown Indian feas, and intended to have gone himfelf 
 from thofe feas to the pillars of Hercules, that is, to have 
 explored the paflage round Africk, the difcovery of which 
 has fince been fo glorious to Vafco de Gama. It was the 
 fan of Philip* who, after fubduing the Perfians, governed 
 them with fuch lenity, fuch juftice and fuch wifdom, that 
 they loved him even more than ever they had loved their na- 
 tural kings ; and who, by intermarriages, and all methods 
 that could beft eftablifh a coalition between the conquerors 
 and the conquered, united them into one people. But what, 
 fir, did you do, to advance the trade of your fubje&s, to 
 procure any benefit to thofe you had vanquished, or to con- 
 vert any enemy into a friend ? 
 
 CHAR. I might eafily have made myfelf king of Poland, 
 and was advifed to dp fo, by count Piper, my favourite mi- 
 nifter ; I generoufly gave that kingdom to Staniflaus, as you 
 had given a great part of your conqueft in India to Porus, 
 befides his own dominions, which you reftored to him en- 
 tire, after you had beaten his army and taken him captive. 
 
 ALEX. I gave him the government of thofe countries un- 
 der me, and as my lieutenant ; which was the beft method 
 of preferving my power in conquefts, where I could not leave 
 garrifons fufficient to maintain them. The fame policy was 
 afterwards pra&ifed by the Romans, who of all conquerors, 
 except me, were the greateft politicians. But neither was 
 I, nor were they, fo extravagant, as to conquer only for 
 others, or dethrone kings with no view, but merely to have 
 the pleafure of beftowing their crowns on fome of their fub- 
 je&s, without any advantage to ourfelves. Neverthelefs, I 
 will own, that my expedition to India was an exploit of the 
 fen of Jupiter, not of the fan of Philip. I had done better if 
 I had ftaid to give more confiftency to my Persian and Gre- 
 cian empires, inftead of attempting new conquefts, and at 
 fuch a diftance, fo foon. Yet even this war was of ufe to 
 hinder my trpops from being corrupted by the effeminacy of 
 
 * See Plutarch's Life of Alexander,
 
 DIALOGUE XX. 345 
 
 Afia, and to keep up that univerfal awe of my name, which 
 in thofe countries was the great fupport of my power. 
 
 CHAR. In the unwearied activity which which I proceed- 
 ed from one enterprise to another, I dare call myfelf your 
 equal. Nay, I may pretend to higher glory than you, be- 
 caufe you only went on from victory to victory ; but the 
 greateft lofles were not able to diminifh my ardour, or flop 
 the efforts of my daring and invincible fpirit. 
 
 ALEX. You (hewed in adverfity much more magnanimity 
 than you did in profperity. How unworthy of a prince who 
 imitated me was your behaviour to the king your arms had 
 vanquifhed ! The compelling Auguftus* to write himfelf a let- 
 ter of congratulation to one of his vaflals, whom you had 
 placed in his throne, was the very reverfe of my treatment 
 of Porus and Darius. It was an ungenerous infult upon his 
 ill fortune ! It was the triumph of a little and a low mind ! 
 The vifit you made him immediately after that infult was a 
 Farther contempt, offend ve to him, and both ufelefs and dan- 
 gerous to yourfelf. 
 
 CHAR. I feared no danger from it. I knew he durfl not 
 jfe the power I gave him to hurt me. 
 
 ALEX. If his refentment, in that inftant, had prevailed 
 
 )ver his fear, as it was likely to do, you would have perifh- 
 
 ?d defervedly by your infolence and prefumption. For my 
 
 part, intrepid as I was in all dangers which 1 thought it was 
 
 leceflary or proper for me to meet, 1 never put myfelf one 
 
 noment in the power of an enemy whom I had offended. 
 
 i-. 3ut you had the raflinefs of folly as well as of heroifm. A 
 
 : alfe opinion conceived of your enemy's weaknefs proved at 
 
 .aft your undoing. When, in anfwer to fome reafonable 
 
 r >ropofitions of peace, fent to you by the czar, you faid, 
 
 I* You would come and treat with him at Mofcow ; * " he 
 
 eplied very juftly, " That you affected to act like Alexan- 
 
 > * der, but mould not find in him a Darius." And, doubt- 
 
 efs, you ought to have been better acquainted with the cha- 
 
 acter of that prince. Had Perfia been governed by a Peter 
 
 ilexowitz when I made war againft it, I mould have acted 
 
 nore cautioufly, and not have counted fo much on the fu- 
 
 >eriority of my troops, in valour and difcipline, over an 
 
 rmy commanded by a king, who was fo capable of inftruct- 
 
 ng them in all they wanted. 
 
 CHAR. The battle of Narva, won by eight thoufand 
 Swedes againft fourfcore thoufand Mufcovites, feemed to au- 
 horize my contempt of the nation and their prince. 
 
 ALEX. 
 * See Voltaire's Charles XII.
 
 34 6 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 ALEX. It happened that their prince was not prefent in 
 that battle. But he had not as yet had the time, which was 
 neceffary to irtftrua his barbarous foldiers. You gave him 
 that time, and he made fo good a ufe of it, that you found 
 at Pultowa the Mufcovites become a different nation. It you I 
 had followed the blow you gave them at Narva, and march- \ 
 ed direaly to Mofcow, you might have deilroyed their Her- i 
 cules in his cradle. But you fuffered him to grow, till his 
 ftrength was mature, and then aaed as if he had been ftill in \ 
 his childhood. 
 
 CHAR. I muft confefs you excelled me in conduct, in po- 
 licy, and' in true magnanimity. But my liberality was not I 
 inferior to your's ; and neither you nor any mortal ever fur-| 
 patted me in the enthufiafm of courage. I was alfo free from* 
 thofe vices which fullied your charaaer. I never was drunk ; ; 
 1 killed no friend in the riot of a feaft ; I fired no palace at 
 the inftigation of a harlot. 
 
 ALEX. It may perhaps be admitted as fome excufe for my 
 drunkennefs, that the Perfians efteemcd it an excellence in] 
 their kings to be able to drink a great quantity of wine, and, 
 the Macedonians were far from thinking it a dimonour.* But 
 you were as frantic, and as cruel, when fober, as I was, 
 when drunk, f You were fober when you rcfolved to conti- 
 nue in Turkey againft the will of your hoft, the grand Jignor* 
 You were fober when you commanded the unfortunate Pat.-' 
 kull whofeonly crime was his having maintained the liber-'* 
 ties of his country, and who bore the facred charaaer of ai 
 embaflador, to be broken alive on the wheel, againft thi 
 laws of nat'-ons, and thofe of humanity, more inviolable lull 
 to a generous mind. You were likewife fober when you; 
 xv rote to the fenate of Sweden, who, upon a report of you 
 death, endeavoured to take fome care of your kingdom 
 " That you would fend them one of your boots, and iron 
 that they mould receive their orders, if they pretended t 
 " meddle in government : " an infult much wode than an: 
 the Macedonians complained of from me, when I was mo 
 heated with wine and with adulation ! As for my chattily, ; 
 was not fo perfea as your's, though on fome occafions | 
 obtained great praife for my continence: but, pernaps, > 
 you had been not quite fo infeniible to the charms of 
 fair fex, it would have mitigated and foftencd the fiercenei 
 the pride, and the obftinacy of your nature. 
 
 CHAR. It would have foftened me into a woman, or, wh 
 I think ftill more contemptible, the Have of a woman. J 
 
 * See Plutarch's Morals and Xencphon. 
 f See Voltaire's Charles XII.
 
 DIALOGUE XX. 34? 
 
 you feem to infmaate that you never were cruel or frantic 
 
 unlefs when you were drunk, This I abfolutely deny. You 
 
 were not drunk, when you crucified Hephseflion's phyfician 
 
 for not curing a man who killed himfelf by his intemperance 
 
 in his ficknefs ;* nor when you facrificed to the manes of that 
 
 favourite officer the whole nation of Cufieans, men, women 
 
 and children, who were entirely innocent of his death be- 
 
 caufe you had read in Homer, that Achilles had immolated 
 
 sfome Trojan captives on the tomb of Patroclus. I could 
 
 ^mention other proofs that your paffions inflamed you as much 
 
 las wine : but thefe are fufficient. 
 
 ALEX. I can't deny that my paffions were fometimes fo 
 violent as to deprive me for a while of the ufe of my reafon - 
 eipectajly when the pride of fuch amazing fuccefTes, the ferl 
 Ivitude of the Perfians, and barbarian flattery, had intoxicat- 
 ed my mind. To bear, at my age, with continual mode- 
 ration, fuch fortune as mine, was hardly in human nature 
 jjAs ror you, there was an excefs and intemperance in your 
 virtues, which turned them all into vices. And one virtue 
 you wanted, which in a prince is very commendable, and 
 beneficial to the public, I mean the love of fcience and of the 
 elegant arts. Under my care and patronage they were car- 
 ied in Greece to their utmoft perfedion. Ariftotle Apel 
 les, and Lyflppus, were among the glories of my rei - 
 
 syour's was illuftrated only by battles. Upon the whole! 
 
 lough, from fome refemblance between us, I mould natu- 
 ally be inclined to decide in your favbur, yet I muft give the 
 priority in renown to your enemy, Peter Alexowitz. That 
 !*reat monarch raffed his country ; You ruined your's. He 
 ;vas a legijlator ; you were a tyrant. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXI. 
 
 Cardinal XIMENES. Cardinal WOLSEY. 
 
 vVoLs. X^ QU feem to look on me, Ximenes, with an air 
 A of fupenonty, as if I was not your equal 
 iave you forgotten that I was the favourite and firft minifter 
 * a great king of England ? that I was at once lord high 
 hancellor, bifhop of Durham, bifhop of Winchefter, arch- 
 mop of York, and cardinal legate ? On what other fubied 
 /ere ever accumulated fomany dignities, fuch honours, fuch 
 
 XiM. In order to prove yourfelf my equal, you are pleafed 
 11 me what you bad, not what you did. But it is not 
 
 * See Plutarch's Life of Alexander.
 
 348 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 the having great offices ; it is the doing great things, that 
 makes a great minifter. I know that for fome years you go- 
 verned the mind of king Henry the Eighth, and confequently 
 his kingdom, with the moft abfolute fway. Let me aik you 
 then, what were the atts of your reign ? 
 
 WOLS. My afts were thofe of a very fkilful courtier and 
 able politician. I managed a temper, which nature had 
 made the mod difficult to manage, of any, perhaps, that 
 ever exifted, with fuch confummate addrefs, that all its paf- 
 fions were rendered entirely fubfervient to my inclinations. 
 In foreign affairs I turned the arms of my mafter, or difpofed 
 of his friendmip, whichever way my own intereft happened 
 to direct. It was not with him, but with me, that treaties 
 were made by the Emperor or by France; and none were 
 concluded, during my miniftry, that did not contain fome ar- 
 ticle in my favour, befides fecret aflurances of aiding my am- 
 bition or refentment, which were the real fprings of all my 
 negociations. At home I brought the pride of Englim no- 
 bility, which had refifted the greateft of the Plantagenets, to 
 bow fubmiflively to the fon of a butcher of Ipfwich. And, as 
 my power was royal, my flare and magnificence were fuita- 
 ble to it : my buildings, my furniture, my houmold, myij 
 equipage, my liberality, and my charities, were above t he- 
 rank of a fubject. 
 
 XIM. From all you have faid I underftand that you gained 
 great advantages for yourfelf in the courfe of your miniftry j 
 too great indeed for a good man to defire, or a wife man to ac J 
 cept. But what did you do for your fovereign, and for th< 
 flate? You make me no anfwer. What I did is well known 
 I was not content with forcing the arrogance of the Spanifl 
 nobility to {loop to my power, but ufed that power to freffl 
 the people from their opprefiions. * In you they refpected th,i 
 royal authority; I made them refpet the majefty of the law:jj 
 I alfo relieved my countrymen, the commons of Caftile, fror! , 
 a moft grievous burthen, by an alteration in the method of co, f. 
 lecYing their taxes. After the death of Ifabella I preferved d 
 tranquillity of Arragon and Caftile, by procuring the regenc 
 of the latter for Ferdinand, a wife and valiant prince, thou 
 he had net been my friend during the life of the queen. Ar 
 when, after his deceafe, 1 was raifed to the regency by the g< 
 neral efteem and affeSion of the Caftilians, I adminiftered t 
 government with great courage, firmnefs and prudence ; wi- 
 the mod perfect difmtereflednefs in regard to myfclf, and m<- . 
 zealous concern for the public. I fupprefTed all the fa&ici 
 
 whi 
 
 * See Marfolicr, Vie dc Ximefne,
 
 DIALOGUE XXI. 349 
 
 [which threatened to difturb the peace of that kingdom in 
 i the minority and the abfence of the young king; and pre- 
 vented the difcontents of the commons of Caftile, too juftly 
 iincenfed againft the Flemifti minifters, who governed their 
 tprince and rapacioufly pillaged their country, from breaking 
 iout, during my life, into open rebellion, as they did, moft 
 f unhappily, foon after my death. Thefe were my civil acts : 
 .but to complete the renown of my adminiftration, I added 
 jto it the palm of military glory. At my one charges, and my- 
 Jfelf commanding the army, 1 conquered Oran from the Moors, 
 land annexed it, with its territory, to the Spanifh dominions. 
 WOLS. My foul was as elevated and noble as your's ; 
 jmy understanding as ftrong, and more refined. But the dif- 
 jference of our conduct arofe from the difference of our ob- 
 ijects. To raife your reputation, and fecure your power in 
 [Caftile, by making that kingdom as happy, and as great as you 
 ilcould^was your object. Mine was to procure the triple crown 
 for myfelf by the afllftance of my fovereign, and of the great- 
 ieft foreign powers. Each of us took the means that were 
 ((evidently moft proper to the accompli fhment of his ends. 
 
 XIM. Can you confefs fuch a principle of your conduct 
 '. without a blufti ? But you will at leaft be afhamed, that 
 f you failed in your purpofe, and were the dupe of the powers 
 with whom you negociated ; after having difhonoured the 
 character of your mafter, in order to ferve your own ambi- 
 'tion. I accomplished my defire, with glory to my fove- 
 reign, and advantage to my country. Befides this difference, 
 there was a great one in the methods by which we acquir- 
 ed our power. We both owed it indeed to the favour of 
 princes ; but I gained Ifabella's by the opinion (he had of my 
 piety and integrity : you gained Henry's by a complaifance 
 and courfe of life, which were a reproach to your character 
 ' and facred orders. 
 
 WOLS. I did not, as you, Ximenes, did, carry with" me 
 1 to court the aufterity of a monk ; nor, if I had done fo, 
 could I poflibly have gained any influence there. Ifabella 
 and Henry were different characters, and their favour was 
 to be fought in different ways. By making myfelf agree- 
 able to the latter, I fo governed his paflions, unruly as they 
 were, that, while I lived, they did not produce any of thofe 
 dreadful effects, which after my death were caufed by them 
 1 in his family and kingdom. 
 
 XIM. If Henry the Eighth, your mafter, had been king of 
 Caftile, I would never have been drawn by him out of my cloi- 
 fter. A man of virtue and fpirit will not be prevailed with to 
 go into a court, where he cannot rife without bafenefs. 
 
 WOLS.
 
 350 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 WOLS. The inflexibility ot your mind had like to have 
 ruined you in fome of your meafures : * and the bigotry, 
 which you had derived from yonr long abode in a c'.oifler, 
 and retained when a minifter, was very near depriving the 
 crown of Caftile of the new-conquered kingdom of Granada, 
 by the revolt of the Moors in that city, whom you had pre- 
 maturely forced to change their religion. Do you not re- 
 member how angry king Ferdinand was with you on that 
 account ? 
 
 XIM. I do, and mufl acknowledge -that my fceal was too 
 intemperate in all that proceeding. 
 
 WOLS. My word complaifances to king Henry the 
 Eighth were far lefs hurtful to England, than the unjuft and' 
 inhuman court of inquifition, which you eftabliflied in. Gra- 
 nada, to watch over the faith of your unwilling converts, has 
 been to Spain. 
 
 XIM. I only revived and fettled in Granada an ancient tri- 
 bunal, inftituted firft by one of our faints againft the Albi- 
 genfes, and gave it greater powers. The mifchiefs which 
 have attended it cannot be denied. But if .any force may be 
 ufed for the maintenance of religion (and the church of 
 Rome has, you know, declared authoritatively that it may) 
 none could be fo effectual to anfwer the purpofe. 
 
 WOLS. This is an argument rather againft the opinion 
 of the church, than for the inquifition. I will only fay, I 
 think myfelf very happy, that my adminiftration was ftained 
 with no ation of cruelty, not even cruelty fanttified by the 
 name of religion. My temper indeed, which influenced my 
 conduct more than my principles, was much milder than 
 vour's. To the proud I was proud ; but to my friends and 
 inferiors benevolent and humane. Had I lucceeded in the ' 
 great object of my ambition, had I acquired the popedom, 
 I fhould have governed the church with more moderatior 
 and better fer.fe, than, probably, you would have done, 
 you had exchanged the fee of Toledo for that of Rome, 
 good-nature, my policy, my tafte for magnificence, 
 love of the fine arts, of wit, and of learning, would ha\ 
 made me the delight of all the Italians, and have given me 
 rank among the greateft princes. Whereas in you, the fo 
 bigot and rigid Monk would too much have prevailed 
 the prince and the (latefman. 
 
 XIM. What either of us would have been in that fituat'u 
 docs not appear. But, if you are compared to me as a 
 nifter, you are vaftly inferior. The only circumftance 
 which you can juftly pretend to any equality is the encoi 
 
 rager 
 * S:e Marfolier, Vie de Ximcfne.
 
 DIALOGUE XXII. . 35l 
 
 ragement you gave to learning, and your munificence in 
 promoting it, which was indeed very great. Your two 
 colleges founded at Ipfwich and Oxford may vie with my 
 iuniverfity at Alcala de Henara. But in our generofity there 
 was this difference : all my revenues were fpent in well-plac- 
 ,ed liberalities, in ats of -charity, piety, and virtue : where- 
 as a great part of your enormous wealth was fquandered 
 iaway in luxury and vain' oflentation. With regard to all 
 iother points my fuperiority is apparent. You were only a fa- 
 fvourite : I was the friend and the father of the people. You 
 jferved yourfelf : I ferved the ftate. The conclufion of our 
 Bives was alfo much more honourable to me than you. 
 
 WOLS. Did not you die, as I did, in difgrace with your 
 imafter ? 
 
 XIM. That difgrace was brought upon me by a facltion of 
 '.foreigners, to whofe power, as a good Spaniard, I would 
 inot fubmit. A minifter, who falls a viSim to fuch an op- 
 pofition, riles by his fall. Your's was not graced by any 
 public caufe, any merit to the nation. Your fpirit there- 
 fore funk under it ; you bore it with meannefs. Mine was 
 unbroken, fuperior to my enemies, fuperior to fortune ; and 
 I died, as I had lived, with undiminifhed dignity and great- 
 jnefs of mind. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXII. 
 LUCIAN RABELAIS. 
 
 Luc. "IT^RIEND Rabelais, well met. Our fouls are very 
 JJ good company for one another. We both were 
 great wits, and moft audacious freethinkers. We laughed 
 often at Folly, and fometimes at Wifdom. I was indeed 
 more correct and more elegant in my ftyle : but then, in re- 
 turn, you had a greater fertility of imagination. My True 
 Hi/tory is much inferior, in fancy and invention, in force of 
 wit and keennefs of fatire, to your Hifiory of the Atts of Ga- 
 ragantua and Pantagruel. 
 
 RAB. You do me great honour: but I may fay, without 
 vanity, that both thofe compofitions entitle the authors of 
 them to a very diftinguifhed place, among memoir-writers, 
 . travellers, and even hiftorians ancient and modern. 
 
 Luc. Doubtlefs they do. But will you pardon me if I aflc 
 you one queftion? Why did you chufe to write fuch abfolute 
 nonfenfe, as you have in fome places of your illuftrious work ? 
 
 RAB. I was forced to compound my phyfic for the mind 
 with a large dofe of nonfenfe, in order to make it go down. 
 To own the truth to you, if I had not fo frequently put on 
 
 the
 
 352 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 the fool's cap, the freedoms I took, in other places, with 
 cowls, with red bats, and the triple crown itfelf, would have 
 brought me into great danger. Not only my book, but I 
 myfelf, mould, in all probability, have been condemned to 
 the flames : and martyrdom was an honour to which I never 
 afpired. I therefore counterfeited folly, like Jnnius Brutus, 
 from the wifeft of all. principles, that of felf-prefervation. 
 You, Lucian, had no need to ufe fo much caution. Your 
 heathen priefts defired only a facrifice now and then from an 
 Epicurean, as a mark of conformity ; and kindly allowed him 
 to make as free as he pleafed, in converfation or writings, 
 with the whole tribe of gods and goddefles, from the thun- 
 dering Jupiter and the fcolding Juno, down to the dog Anu- 
 bis and the fragrant dame Cloacina. 
 
 Luc. Say rather that our government allowed us that li- ; 
 berty ! for I allure you our priefts were by no means pleafed 
 with it ; at lead they were not in my time. 
 
 RAB. The wifer men they ! for, in fpite of the conformi- 
 ty required by the laws, and enforced by the magiftrate, ,- 
 that ridicule brought the fyftem of pagan theology into con- i 
 tempt, not only with the philofophical part of mankind, $ 
 but even with the vulgar. 
 
 Luc. It did fo ; and the ableft defenders of paganifm were ^ 
 forced to give up the poetical fables, and allegorize the whole. \\ 
 
 RAB. An excellent way of drawing fenfe out of abfurdi- i 
 ty, and grave inftru&ions from lewdnefs ! There is a great ;i 
 modern wit, Sir Francis Bacon, lord Verulam, who, in his . 
 treatife entitled The Wifdom of the Ancients, has done more 
 for you that way than all your own priefts ! 
 
 Luc. He has indeed fhewn himfelf an admirable chemift, 
 and made a fine tranfmutation of folly into wifdom. But 
 all the latter Platonifts took the fame method of defending 
 our faith, when it was attacked by the Chriftians : and cer- 
 tainly a more judicious one could not be found. Our fables 
 fay, that, in one of their wars with the Titans, the Gods 
 were defeated, and forced to turn themfelves into beajis, in 
 order to efcape from the conquerors. Juft the reverie hap- 
 pened here : for, by this happy art, our beajlly divinities 
 were turned again into rational beings. 
 
 RAB. Give me a ?ood commentator, with a fubtle, refin- 
 ing, philolophical head ; and you (hall have the edificatior 
 of feeing him draw the mojl fubllme allegories, and the mof 
 venerable my flic truths, from my hiftory of the noble Garaan 
 tua and Pantagruel ! I don't defpair of being proved, to th< 
 entire fatisfa&ion of fome future age, to have been, withou 
 exception, the profoundeft divine and tnetaphyfician that eve 
 yet held a pen. 
 
 Luc
 
 D I A L O G U XX&v 333 
 Luc. I {hall rejoice to fee you advanced to that honour 
 
 but in the mean time 1 may take the liberty to confider you' 
 
 as one of our clafs. There you fit very high. 
 
 RAB I am afraid there is another, and a modern author 
 
 too, whom you would bid to fit above me, and but iuft he 
 
 lowyourielf: I mean Dr. Swift. 
 
 u un to throw fo * non- 
 
 fenfe into his rnftory of Lemuel Gulliver, as yo'u did into that 
 of your two illuftrious heroes; and his ft y l e is f ar more 
 torrea than your's. His wit never defcended (as your's fre 
 gently did) into the loweft of taverns, nor ever wore the" 
 faeaneft garb of (he vulgar. 
 
 I RAB. If the garb, which it wore, was notas mean, I am 
 tertain it was fometimes as dirty as mine. 
 
 Luc. It was not always nicely clean. ' Yet in comparifon 
 arith you he was decent and elegant. But whether there 
 *as not IB your compofuions more fire, and a more comic 
 Writ, I will not determine. 
 
 RAB. If you will not determine it, e'en let it remain a 
 natter m difpute, as I have left tl* great queffion, Wether 
 an U rgefl>ould ma<-ry or net? I would as foon undertake to 
 neafure the difference between the height and bulk of the 
 pant Uaragantiia and his Brobdignanian majeftv, as the dif 
 erence of merit between my wr tings and Swift's. If a nv 
 nan takes a fancy to like my book, let him freely enjoy th 
 ntertainment it gives him, and drink to my memory in a 
 jumper. It another likes Gulliver, let him toad Dr S vift 
 ;;Vere I upon earth, I would pledge him in a bumper,' faM^ 
 ing the win, to be good. If a thircflikes neither of us, Icthini 
 ilently pafs the bottle, and be quiet. 
 
 ; Luc. But what if he will not be quiet ? A critic fe an 
 'inquiet creature. 
 
 RAB. Why then he will diflurb himfelf, not ttii 
 
 Luc. You are a greater philofppher than I thought youf 
 knew you paid no refped to popes, or kings ; but to i pay 
 mne to critics, is, ,n an author, a magnanimity beyond i aH 
 :xample. 
 
 RAB. My life was a farce: my death was a farce : and 
 vould you have me make my book a ferious affair ? As for 
 ;oa, though in general ygu are only a joker, yet fometimes 
 
 >u muft be ranked among grave authors. You have writ- 
 en fage and learned dictations on hiftory, and other 
 pighty matters. The crics have therefore "an undoubted 
 ight to maul you, if they find you in their province. But 
 i any of them dare to come into mine, I will order Garagan- 
 A * iua
 
 554 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 tua to fwallow them up, as he did the fix pilgrims, in the 
 next fallad he eats. * 
 
 Luc. Have I not heard that you wrote a very good fe- 
 rious book on the Aphorifms of Hippocrates ? 
 
 RAB. Upon my faith,. I, had forgot it. I am fo ufed to 
 my fool's coat, that I don't know myfelf in my folemn doc- 
 tor's goiun. But your information was right : that book was 
 indeed a very refpe&able work. Yet nobody reads it ; and 
 if I had writ nothing elfe, I fhould have been reckoned, at 
 beft, a laquey to Hippocrates : whereas the hiftorian of Pa- 
 nurge is an eminent -writer. Plain good fenfe, like* a difh of 
 folid beef or mutton, is proper only for peafants ; but a ra- 
 gout of folly , well dreffed with ajharp fauce of wit, is fit to be 
 ferved up at an emperor's table. 
 
 Luc. You are an admirable pleafant fellow ! let me em- 
 brace you. How Apollo and the Mufes may rank you on Par- 
 naflus, I am not very certain : but, if I were mafter of the 
 ceremonies on Mount Olympus, you fhould be placed, with 
 full bowl of ne&ar before you, at the right hand of Momus. 
 
 RAB. I wifhyou were-^-but I fear the inhabitants of thofe 
 fublime regions will like your company no better than mine. 
 Indeed, how Momus himfelf could get a feat at that table, I 
 can't well comprehend ! It has been ufual, I corrfefs, in fomer 
 of our courts upon earth, to have a privileged jefter, called the' 
 king's fool. But in the court of Heaven one mould not haves 
 fuppofed fuch an officer, as Jupittr's feol Your allegorical 
 theology in this point is very abftrufe. 
 
 Lu c. I think our priefts admitted Momus into our heaven, afj] 
 thelndiansare faid to worfhip the devil, through fear. The)jl 
 had a mind to keep fair with him. For, we may talk of th< ; 
 giants as much as we pleafe ; but to our gods there is no enem 4| 
 fo formidable as he. Ridicule is the terror of n\\fa/fe religion 
 Nothing but truth can ftand its lafh. 
 
 RAB. Truth, advantageoufly fet in a good and fair light} < ; 
 can ftand any attacks : but thofe of ridicule are fo teafing an ; 
 fo fallacious, that I have feen them put her ladylhip very muc! 
 out of humour. 
 
 Luc. Ay,friend Rabelais: andfometimesout ofcountenanc 
 too. But truth and wit in confederacy will flrike Momus dum! 
 United they are invincible : and fuch a union is neceflary upo 
 certain occafions. Falfe reafoning is mod effectually expofe 
 by plain fenfe ; but wit is the beft opponent tofalfe ridicule] 
 tsjujl ridicule is to all the abfurdities, which dare to aflun 
 
 tl 
 
 * SeeKabelais. 1; i. c; 38.
 
 DIALOGUE XXIII. 355 
 
 the venerable names of Pbilofipby, or Religion. Had we made 
 fuch a proper ufe of our agreeable talents, had we employed our 
 ridicule to (trip the foolilh faces of fuperftition, fanaticiifm, and 
 dogmatical pride, of the ferious and folemn mafks with which 
 they are covered ; at the fame time exerting all the fharpnefs 
 of our wit, to combat the flippancy and pertnefs of thofe, who 
 ; argue only by jefts againft reafon and evidence, in points of 
 ;the higheft and moft ferious concern; we fhould have much 
 jbetier merited the efteem of mankind. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXIIL 
 
 . 
 
 . COSMO DE MfiDicis, the firft of that name* 
 
 PER.TN what I have heard of your character and yourfor- 
 A tune, illuftrious Cofmo, I find a mod remarkable re- 
 femblance with mine.* We both lived in republics where the 
 fovereign power was in the people ; and, by mere civil arts, 
 but more efpecially by our eloquence, attained, without any 
 force, to fuch a degree of authority, that we ruled thofe tu- 
 multuous and ftormy democracies with an abfolute fway, turn* 
 sd the tempefts which agitated them upon the heads of our 
 enemies, and after having long and profperoufly conduced the 
 .greatefl affairs, in war'and peace, died revered and lamented 
 Dy all our fellow-citizens. 
 
 Cos. We have indeed an equal right to value ourfelves on 
 \fyat nollf/l of empires, the empire we gained over the minds of 
 
 )ur countrymen. Force or caprice may give power, but no- 
 ,hing can give a lofting authority, except wifdom and virtue. By 
 ;hefe we obtained, by thefe we preferved, in our refpe&ive 
 :ountries, a dominion unftained by ufurpation or blood, a do- 
 ninion conferred on us by the public efteem and the public 
 >ffeclion. We were in reality fovereigns, while we lived with 
 he fimplicity of private men : and Athens and Florence be- 
 ieved themfelves to be free, though they obeyed all our dic- 
 
 1 ates. This is more than was done by Philip of Macedon, or 
 
 .Jylla, or Caefar. It is the perfection of policy to tame the 
 
 ' f jierce fpirit of popular liberty, not by blows or by chains, but 
 
 ' ,y foothing it into a voluntary obedience, and bringing it to 
 
 * ick the hand that reftrains it. 
 
 PER. The talk can never be eafy ; but the difficulty was flill 
 
 . ;reater to me than to you. For I had a lion to tame, from 
 
 A a 2 whofe 
 
 * See Plutarch's Life of Pericles, and Thucydides, ). ii. See 
 Ifo Machiavel's Hiftory of Florence, from the fourth book to 
 ie eighth.
 
 35 6 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 whofe intractable fury the greateft men of my country, and of 
 the whole world, with all their wifdom and virtue, could not 
 fave themfelves. Themiftocles andAriftides were examples of 
 terror, that might well have deterred me from the adminiftra- 
 tion of public affairs at Athens. Another impediment in my 
 way was the power of Cimon, who, for his goodnefs, his libe- 
 rality, and the luftre of his victories over the Perfians, was 
 much beloved by the people ; and, at the fame time, by being 
 thought to favour ariftocracy, had ail the noble and rich citi- 
 zens devoted to his party. It feemed impolTible to make fo 
 well eftablifhed a greatnefs. Yet, by the charms and force of 
 my eloquence, which exceeded that of all orators contemporary 
 with me, by the integrity of my life, my moderation, and my 
 prudence, but, above all, by my artful management of the 
 people, whofe power I encreated, that I might render it the 
 bafis and fupport pf my own, I gained fuch an afcendant over 
 all my opponents, that having fi-rtl procured the banimment of 
 Cimon by oftracifm, and then of Thucydides, another formi- 
 dable antagonift, fet up by the nobles againft my authority, I 
 became the unrivaled chief or rather the monarch of the 
 Athenian republic, without ever putting to death, in above 
 forty years that my administration continued, one of my fel- 
 low-citizens : a circumftance, which I declared, when I lay 
 on my death-bed, to be, in my own judgement, more honour- 
 able to me, than all my profperity in the government of the 
 (late, or the nine trophies, creeled for fo many victories ob- ; 
 tained by my conduct. 
 
 Cos. I had alfo the fame happinefs to boaft of at my death: 
 and fome additions were made to the territories of Florence 
 under my government : but I myfelf was no foldier, and the 
 commonwealth I directed was never either fo warlike or fo 
 powerful as Athens. I muft, therefore, not pretend to vie with 
 you in the luftre of military glory : and I will moreover ac- 
 knowledge, that to govern a people, whofe fpirit and pride 
 were exalted by the wonderful victories of Marathon, Mycale, 
 Salamis, and Plataea, was.much more difficult than to rule the 
 Florentines and the Tufcans. The liberty of the Athenians 
 was in your time more imperious, more haughty, more info- 
 lent than the defpotifm of the king of Perfia. How great 
 then mud have been your ability and addrefs, that could fc 
 abfolutely reduce it under your power ! yet the temper of my 
 countrymen was not eafy to govern : for it was exceedingl) 
 factious. The hiflory of Florence is little elfe, for fevera! 
 ages, than an account of confpiracies againft the ftate. In m) 
 youth I- myfelf fuffered much by the diflentions which ther 
 
 embroile<
 
 DIALOGUE XXIII. 357 
 
 embroiled the republic. I was imprifoned, and banifhed ; 
 but, after the courfe of feme years, my enemies, in their 
 turn, were driven into exile. I was brought back in tri- 
 umph ; and from that time till my dea;h, which was above 
 thirty years, I governed theFlorentir.es, not by arms, or evil 
 arts ot tyrannical power, but with a legal authority ; which 
 
 I exercifed fo difcreetly, as to gain the efteem of all the neigh- 
 bouring potentates, and fuch a conftant affection of all my 
 fellow-citizens, that an infcription, which gave me the title 
 
 ,of ' Father of my Country,' was engraved on my monument, 
 by an unanimous decree of the whole commonwealth. 
 
 PER. Your end was incomparably more happy than mine. 
 For you died, rather of age than any violent illnefs, and left f he 
 Florentines in a {late of peace and profperity procured for 
 them by your counfels. But I died of the plague, after having 
 feen it almoft depopulate Athens ; and left my country engaged 
 in a mod dangerous war, to which my advice, and the power of 
 my eloquence, had excited the people. The misfortune of the 
 peftilence, with the inconveniencies they fuffered on account 
 of the war fo irritated their minds, that, not long before my 
 death, they condemned me to a fine. 
 
 Cos. It is wonderful, that, when once their anger was raif- 
 cd, it went no further againft you ! A favourite of the people 
 when difgraced, is in ftill greater danger than a favourite of a 
 king. 
 
 PER. Your furprife will encreafe at hearing, that very fo*on 
 afterwards they chofe me their general, and conferred on me 
 again the principal direction of all their affairs. Had I lived, 
 
 II mould have fo conducted the war, as to have ended it with 
 advantage and honour to my country. For, having fecured 
 to her the fovereignty of the fea, by the defeat of the Samians, 
 before I let her engage with the power of Sparta, I knew that 
 our enemies would be at length wearied out and compelled to 
 fue for a peace: becaufe the city, from the ftrength of its for- 
 tifications, and "the great army within it, being on the landfide 
 impregnable to the Spartans, and drawing continual fupplies 
 from the lea, fuffered not much by the ravages of the country 
 about it, from whence I had before removed all the inhabi- 
 tants : whereas their allies were undone by the defcents we 
 made on their coafts. 
 
 Cos. You feem to have underftood beyond all other men 
 what advantages are to be drawn from a maritime pcwer, and 
 how to make it the fureft foundation of empire. 
 
 PER. I followed
 
 358 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 PER. I followed the plan traced out by Themiftocles, thtf 
 ableft politician that Greece had ever produced. Nor did I be- 
 gin the Peloponnefian war (as fome have fuppofed) only to 
 make my myfelf neceflary, and (lop an enquiry into my public 
 accounts.* I really thought, that the republic of Athens could 
 no longer defer a conteft with Sparta, without giving up to 
 that ftate the precedence in the direction of Greece, and her 
 own independence. To keep off for fome time even a 
 neceflary war, with a probable hope of making it more ad- 
 vantageoufly, at a favourable opportunity, is an al of true 
 wifdom : but not to make it, when you fee that your enemy 
 will be ftrengthened, and your own advantages loft, or conft- 
 derably leflened, by the delay, is a moft pernicious impru- 
 dence. With relation to my accounts I had nothing to fear. I 
 had not embezzled one drachma of public money, nor added 
 one to my own paternal eftate ; and the people had placed fo 
 entire a confidence in me, that they had allowed me, againft 
 the ufual forms of their government, to difpofe of large fums 
 for fecret fervice, without account.f When therefore I advif- 
 ed the Peloponnefian war, I neither ated from private views, 
 nor with the inconfiderate temerity of a reftlefs ambition ; but 
 as became a wife ftatefman, who, having weighed all the dan- 
 gers that may attend a great enterpnfe, and feeing a reasonable 
 hope of good fuccefs, makes it his option to fight for dominion 
 and glory, rather than facrifice both to the uncertain poffeflion 
 of an infecure peace. 
 
 Cos. How were you fure of inducing fo volatile a people to 
 perfevere in fo fleady a fyftem of conduct as that which you 
 hadlaiddown ; afyftem attended with much inconvenienceand 
 lofs to particulars, while it prefented but little to fti ike or in- 
 flame the imagination of the public ? Bold and arduous en- 
 terprizes, great battles, much bloodihed, and a fpcedy de- 
 cifion, are what the multitude defire in every war: but your 
 plan of operation was the reverfe of all this ; and the execu- 
 tion of it required the temper of the Thebans, rather than of 
 the Athenians. 
 
 PER. I found indeed many fymptoms of their impatience; 
 but I was able to reftrain it by the authority 1 had gained. For, 
 during my whole miniftry, I never had {looped to court their 
 favour by any unworthy means ; never flattered them in their 
 follies, nor complied with their palTions againft their true in- 
 terefls and my own better judgement ; but ufed the power of 
 
 my 
 
 * Thucydides, 1. ii. 
 
 t See Plutarch in the Life of Pericles, and Diptlcrus Sicuk:*.
 
 DIALOGUE XXIII. 359 
 
 (*ny eloquence to keep them in the bounds of a wife modera- 
 tion, to raife their fpirits when too low, and fhew them their 
 ; danger when they grew too prefumptuous ; the good effe&s of 
 I; which conduct they had happily experienced in all their affairs. 
 Whereas thofe who fucceeded to me in the government, by 
 t their incapacity, their corruption, and their fervile complai- 
 ii fance to the humour of the people, prefently loft all the fruits 
 j of my virtue and prudence. Xerxes himfelf, I am convinced, 
 ! did not faffer more by the flattery of his courtiers, than the 
 ij Athenians, after my deceafe, by that of their orators and mi- 
 jnifters of ftate. 
 
 Cos. Thofe orators could not gain the favour of the people 
 jby any other methods. Your arts were more noble : they were 
 jthe arts of a ftatefman and of a prince. Your magnificient 
 [buildings, which in beauty of architecture furpafled any the 
 world had ever feen, the ftatues of Phidias, the paintings of 
 Xeuxis, the protection you gave to knowledge, genius, and 
 iabilities of every kind, added as much to the glory of Athens 
 as to your popularity. * And in this I may boaft of an equal 
 merit to Florence. For I embellimed that city and the whole 
 country about it, with excellent buildings ; I protected all 
 arts ; and, though I was not myfelf fo eloquent, or fo learned 
 as you, 1 no lefs encouraged thofe who were eminent, in my 
 time, for their eloquence or their learning. Marcilius Ficinus, 
 :' the fecond father of the Platonic philofophy," lived in my 
 houfe, and converfed with me as intimately as Anaxagoras 
 with you.[|| Nor did I ever forget and fuffer him fo to want the 
 neceflaries of life, as you did Anaxagoras, who had like to 
 have perifhed by that unfriendly negle& ; but, to fecure him, at 
 all times, from any diftrefs in his circumftances, and enable him 
 to purfue his fublime fpeculations unmolefted by low cares, I 
 gave him an eftate adjacent to one of my favourite villas. I 
 alfo drew to Florence, Argiropolo, the moil learned Greek of 
 thofe times ; that under my patronage, he might teach the 
 Florentine youth the language and fciences of his country. 
 But with regard to our buildings, there is this remarkable dif- 
 ference : your's were all raifed at the expence of the public, 
 mine at my own. 
 
 PER. My eftate would bear no profufenefs, nor allow me 
 to exert the generofity of my nature. Your wealth exceeded 
 that of any particular, or indeed of any prince, who lived in 
 'your days. The vaft commerce, which, after the example 
 iof your anceftors, you continued to carry on in all parts of 
 the world, even while you prefided at the helm of the ftate, 
 
 enabled 
 
 * See Machiavel's Hiftory of Florence, 1. vii. 
 '! See Plutarch's Life of Pericles.
 
 ^6o DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 fnabled you to do thofe fplendid ats, which rendered your 
 name fo illuftrious.* But I was constrained to make the public 
 treafure the fund of my bounties ; and I thought I could not 
 poflibly difpofe of it better, in time of peace, than in finding 
 employment for that part of the people which muft elfe have 
 been idle, and ufelefs to the comjmunity, introducing into 
 Greece all the elegant arts, and adorning my country with 
 works that are an honour to human nature. For while I at- 
 tended the moft to thefe civil and peaceful occupations, I did 
 not neglect to provide, with timely care, againft war ; nor fuf- 
 fer the nation to fink into luxury and effeminate foftnefs. I 
 kept our fleets in continual exercife, maintained a great num- 
 ber of feamen in conftant pay, and difciplined well our land- 
 forces. Nor did I ever ceafeto recommend to all the Athenians, 
 both by precepts and example, frugality, temperance, mag- 
 nanimity, fortitude, and whatever could moft effectually con- 
 tribute to ftrengthen their bodies and minds. 
 
 Cos. Yet I have heard you condemned for rendering the 
 peopl" lefs fobep and modeft, by giving them a mare of the 
 conquered lands, and paying them wages for their necefTary at- 
 tendance in thp public aflfemblies and other civil functions ; but 
 more efpecially for the vaft and fuperfluous expence ? you en- 
 tailed on the ftate in the theatrical fpedacles, with which you 
 entertained them at the coft of the public. 
 
 PER. Perhaps I may have been too lavifh in fome of thofe' 
 bounties. Yet, in a popular (late, it is neceflary, that the peo- 
 ple mould be amufed, and mould fo far partake of the opulence 
 of the public, as not to fuffer any want, which would render 
 their minds top Ipw and fordid for their political duties. In 
 my time the revenues of Athens were fufficient to bear this 
 charge : but Afterwards, when we had loft the greatel\part 
 of our empire, it became, I muft confefs too heavy a burthen; 
 and the continuance of it proved one caufe of our ruin. 
 
 Cos. It is a moftdangerqus thing to load the ftate with lar- 
 geflesof that nature, or indeed with any unneccflary, but popu- 
 lar charges; becaufe to reduce them is almoftimpofTible,thoug! 
 the circumftances of the public mould neceflTarily demand : 
 reduction. But did not you likewife, in order to advance you 
 own greatnefs, throw into {he hands pf the people of Athen 
 more power, than theinftitutions of Solon h;\d emruftcci then 
 y/ith> and more than was confident with the good of the ft.ite 
 
 * See Plutarch in th Life pf Pericles, and Tim- 
 I- 'k
 
 DIALOGUE XXIII. 361 
 
 . PER. We are now in the regions where truth prefides,and 
 I dare not offend her by playing the orator in defence of my 
 condu6t. I mutt therefore acknowledge, that, by weakening 
 the power of the court of Areopagus,* I tore up that anchor, 
 which Solon had wifely fixed to keep his republic firm againfl 
 the ftorms and fluctuations of popular factions. This alterati- 
 on, which fundamentally injured the whole (late, I made, with 
 a view to ferve my own ambition, the only pailion in my nar 
 ture which I could not contain within the limits of virtue. For, 
 I knew that my eloquence would fubjecl the people to me, and 
 ; make them the willing inftruments of all my defires : whereas 
 i the Areopagus had in it an authority and a dignity which J 
 : could not controul. Thus, by diminifhing the counterpoife our 
 j conftitutionhad fettled to moderate theexcefs of popular power, 
 i I augmented my own. But fince my death 1 have been often 
 ( reproached by the (hades of fome of the moft virtuous and 
 j wifeft Athenians, who have fallen victims to the caprice or fury 
 ! of the people, with having been the firft caufe of the injuftice 
 j they fuffered, and of all the mifchiefs perpetually brought op 
 ' my country, by ram undertakings, bad conduct, and flu&uat- 
 i ing councils. They fay, I delivered up the ftate to the go- 
 , vernment of indifcreet or venal orators, and to the paflions of 
 a mifguided, infatuated multitude, who thought their freedom 
 confuted in encouraging calumnies againft the beft fervants of 
 the commonwealth, and conferring power upon thofe who 
 ; had no other merit than falling in with and foothing a popular 
 : folly. It is ufelefs for me to plead, that during my lifef none 
 : of thefe mifchiefs were felt ; that I employed my rhetoric to 
 ! promote none but good and wife rrjeafures ; that I was as free 
 from any taint of avarice or corruption as Ariftides himfelf. 
 . They reply, that I am anfwerable for all the great evils, oc- 
 ( cafioned afterwards by the want of that falutary reftraint on 
 I the natural levity and 'extravagance of a democracy, which I 
 | had taken away. Socrates calls me the patron ot Anytus : 
 and Solon himfelf frowns upon me, whenever we meet. 
 
 Cos. Solon has reafon to do fo ; for tell me Pericles, what 
 opinion would you have of the architect you employed in your 
 buildings, if he had made them to laft no longer than during 
 the term of your life ? I 
 
 PER. The anfwer to your queftion will turn to your own 
 condemnation. Your exceflive liberalities to the indigent ci- 
 tizens, 
 
 * See Plutarch in the lives of Solon and cf Pericles. 
 
 t See Thucvdides, 1. ii. 
 
 JSee Machiavel's Hiitory of Florence, 1. vii.
 
 3 6 2 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD, 
 tizens, and the great fums you lent to all the noble families, did 
 in reality buy the republic of Florence; and gave your family 
 fuch a power as enabled them to convert it from a popular 
 ftate into an abfolute monarchy. 
 
 Cos The Florentines were fo mfefted with difcord and 
 faaion,* and their commonwealth was fo void of military vir- 
 tue, that they could not have long been exempt from a more 
 ignominious fubjeaion to fome foreign power, if thofe internal 
 diflentions, with the confufion and anarchy they produced, had 
 continued. But the Athenians had performed very glorious 
 exploits, had obtained a great empire ; and were become one 
 of the nobleft dates in the world, before you altered the ha- 
 lance of their government. And after that alteration they de- 
 clined verv faft, till they loft all their greatnefs. 
 
 PER their conftitution had originally a foul blemifh m it, 
 I mean the la* ofojlradfm, which alone would have been fuffl 
 ficient to undo any ftate. For there is nothing of fuch im- 
 portant ufe to a nation, as that men who moft excel in wif- 
 dom and virtue (hould be encouraged to undertake the bu- 
 finds of government. But this deteftable cuftom deterred 
 fuch men from ferving the public, or, if they ventured to do 
 o ;-rned even their own wifdom and virtue agamft them ; 
 Ib'-rY in Athens it was fafer to be infamous than renowned. 
 We are 'old indeed, by the advocates for this ftrange inftitun- 
 cn, -tv* u was not a ^nljtment, but meant as a guard to 
 t t i.nlitf and liberty of the ftate :" for which reaion they 
 dr-r-'it *i honour done to the perfons agatnft whom it was 
 ,f^l : as if words could change the real nature of things, 
 make a banifhment of ten years, infliaed on a good 
 n by the fuffrages of his countrymen, no evil to him, or 
 nOftlfenee againftjuftice and the natural right every freeman 
 nay claim, that he (hall not be expelled from any fociety of 
 which he is a member, without having firft been proved guilty 
 of fome criminal action. 
 
 Co s The oftracifm was indeed a moft unpardonable fault in 
 the Athenian conft.tution. It placed envy in the feat of juf- 
 tice and gave to private malice and public ingratitude a legal 
 right todo wrong. Other nations are blamed for tolerating vice ; 
 buc the Athenians alone would not tolerate virtue. 
 
 PER The friends to the oftracifm fay, that too cmmen 
 virtue dcflroys that equality, which is the fofeguard ot tree- 
 dom. 
 
 * See MachiaversHittcry of Florence.
 
 DIALOGUE XXIV. 3 6 3 
 
 Cos. No ftate is well modeled, if it cannot preferve itfelf 
 rom the danger of tyranny without a grievous violation of na- 
 ural . juftice ; nor would a friend to true freedom, which con- 
 ifls m being governed, not by men, but by laws, defire to live 
 n a country, where a Cleon bore rule, and where an Ariftides 
 vas not fufiered to remain. But, inftead of remedying this 
 vil, you made it worfe. You rendered the people mofe in- 
 raaable, more adverfe to virtue, lefs fubjea to the laws and 
 nore to impreifions from mifchievous demagogues, than'they 
 Liad been before your time. 
 
 I PER. In truth, 1 did fo ; and therefore my place in Ely 
 jum, notwithftanding the integrity of my whole public con" 
 lua and the great virtues I exerted is much below the rank 
 e who have governed commonwealths, or limited mo- 
 larchies, not merely with a concern for their prefent advan- 
 age, but alfo with a prudent regard to that balance of power 
 ich their permanent happinefs muft neceffarily depend! 
 
 DIALOGUE XXIV. 
 
 LOCKE BAYLE. 
 
 lAYLE.'y'ES . we both were phi i ofophers . buf _ 
 
 oubted. W3S thC deepe(K Y U ^matized: I 
 
 Lo c KE. Do you make doubting a proof of depth in philofo- 
 hy? It may be a good banning of it, but it is a bad \ end 
 
 UA YLE Mo : the more profound our fearches are into the 
 ature or things, the more uncertainty we (hall find ; and the 
 loft fubtle m.nds feeobjeaions anddifficuhies in every fyftem 
 h.ch are overlooked or undifcoverable by ordinary under! 
 
 LOCKE It would be better than to be no philofopher, and 
 > contmue in the vulgar herd of mankind, - that one may 
 ave the convenience of thinking that one kno^s fomething." 
 hnd hat the eyes which nature has given me fee many thiL 
 
 yough fome are out of their reach > or *fc^ 
 
 >ould offer me an eye-water, the ufe of which would at firft 
 parpen my fight, as to carry it farther than- ordinary vifi- 
 
 ^rTte is tothee P ^7 ^ ? Y ur P hilo ^P h 7 
 the doa'or^s nojlrum to be to t hofe of thelod y. 1 1 tau^Uy 
 t ) our own excellent under/landing, which was by na 
 [uick-fighted, and rendered more fo by art and fubtilty 
 ?c peculiar to yourfelf-it brought, I (ay, you r very 
 
 acute
 
 364 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 acute underftanding to fee nothing clearly, and enveloped all 
 the great truths of reafon and religion in miftsof doubt. 
 
 PAYLE. I own it did ; but your comparifon is not juft. I 
 did not fee well, before I ufed my phjlofophic eye- water: I 
 only fuppofed I favv well ; but I was irf an error with all the 
 reft of mankind. The blindnefs was real, the precepnons 
 were imaginary. I cured myfelf firft of thofe falfe imaginati- 
 ons, and then I laudably endeavoured to cure other men. 
 
 LOCKE. A great cure indeed ! and don't you think, that, 
 in return for the fervice you did them, they ought to erea 
 you a ftatue? 
 
 BAYLE. Yes ; it is good for human nature to know its owrj 
 weaknefs. When we arrogantly prefume on a ftrength w 
 have not, we are always in great danger of hurting ourfelves 
 or at leaft of deferving ridicule and contempt by vain and idl 
 efforts. 
 
 LOCKE. I- agree with you, that human nature mould kno 
 
 its own weaknefs ; but it fhould alfo feel its ftrength, and tr 
 
 to improve it. This was my employment as a philofopher. 
 
 endeavoured to difcover the real powers of the mind, to f< 
 
 what it could do ; and what it could not ; to reftrain it fro; 
 
 efforts beyond its ability, but to teach it how to advance as f 
 
 as the faculties given to it by nature, with the utmoft exertK 
 
 and moft proper culture of them, would allow it to go. In tl 
 
 vaft ocean of philofophy I had the line and the plummet a 
 
 ways in my hands. Many of its depths I found myfelf unab 
 
 to fathom ; but, by caution in founding, and the careful obfe 
 
 vations I made in thecourfe o/. my voyage, I found out for! 
 
 truths of fo much ufe to mankind, that they acknowledge II 
 
 to have been their benefactor. i 
 
 BAYLE. Their ignorance makes them think fo. Sort! 
 
 other philofopher wiUcome hereafter, and fhew thofe truti 
 
 to be falfhoods. He will pretend to difcover uher truthsf 
 
 equalimportance. A later fage will arife, perj ;.-. ^ong rrj 
 
 now barbarous and unlearned, whofe fagacious uuc jvenes 
 
 difcredit the opinions of his admired predeceffor. In philofojri 
 
 as in nature, all changes its form, and one thing exifts by] 
 
 de(lrution of another. 
 
 LOCKE. Opinions taken up without a patient inveftig 
 Depending on terms not accurately defined, and pnn 
 begged without proof, like theories to explain the phrcnc 
 of nature built on fuppolitions inftead of experiments, ri 
 perpetually change and deftroy one another. But foroe c" ; 
 pns there are, even in matters not obvious to the common 
 of mankind, which the mind has received on fuch rat 
 
 I 
 v e 
 
 rrnom
 
 DIALOGUE XXIV. 365 
 
 grounds of aflent, that they are as immovable as the pillars 
 of heaven, or (to fpeak philofophically) as the great laws of 
 nature, by which, under GOD, the univerfe is fuftained. 
 Can you ferioufly think, that, becaufe the hypothefis of your 
 countryman, Defcartes, which was nothing but an ingeni- 
 ous, well-imagined romance, has been lately exploded, the 
 fyftem of Newton, which is built on experiments and ge- 
 ometry, the two moft certain methods of difcovering truth, 
 will ever fail : or that, becaufe the whims of fanaticks and 
 he divinity of the fchool-men cannot now be fupported, the 
 Joannes of that religion, which I, the declared enemy of 
 ill enthufiafm and falfe reafoning, firmly believed and main- 
 tained, will ever be fhaken ? 
 
 BAYLE. If you had aflc^d Defcartes, while he was in the 
 icighth of his vogue, whether his fyftem would be ever con- 
 uted by any other philofopher's, as that of Ariftotle had been 
 by his, what anfwer do you fuppofe he would have returned? 
 
 LOCKE. Come, come, monfieur Bayle, you yourfelf knot*- 
 he difference between the foundations, on which the credit 
 of thofe fyftems and that of Newton is placed. Your fcepti- 
 cifm is more affefted than real. You found it a fhorter way 
 to a great reputation, (the only wiOi of your heart) to b^ 
 Sea, than to defend, to pull down, than to fet up. And 
 .your talents were admirable for that kind of work. Then 
 jyour huddling together, in a Critical Dictionary, a pleafant 
 >alc, or obfcene j<?a, and a grave argument againft the Chfif- 
 ,tian religion, a witty confutation of fome abfurd author, and 
 [an artful fophifm to impeach fome refpedable truth, was* 
 .particularly commodious to all our young fmarts and fmat- 
 terers in free-thinking. But what mifchief have you not 
 .done to human fociety ? You have endeavoured, and with 
 ,fome degree of fuccefs, to (hake thofe foundations, on which- 
 the whole moral world, and the great fabric of foeial happi- 
 .nefs, entirely reft. How could you, as a philofopher, in the 
 fober hours of reflexion, anfwer for this to your conscience, 
 ,eyen fuppofing you had doubu of the truth of a fyftem, which 
 gives to virtue its fweeteft hopes, to impenitent vice, its 
 grenteft fears, and to true penitence its bed eonfolations ; 
 .which retrains even the lead approaches to guilt, and yet 
 makes thofe allowances for the infirmities of our nature, which 
 he Stoic pride denied to it, but which its real imperfeaion 
 and the goodnefs of its infinitely benevolent Creator fa evi- 
 dently require ? 
 
 BAYLE.
 
 free- 
 ;, and 
 
 366 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 BAYLE. The mind is free ; and it loves to exert its 
 dom. Any reftraint upon it is a violence done to its nature, 
 a tyranny, againft which it has a right to rebel. 
 
 LOCKE. The mind, though free, has a governor within 
 itfelf, which may and ought to limit the exercife of its free- 
 dom. That governor is Reafon. 
 
 BAYLE. Yes: but Reafon, like other governors, has a 
 policy more dependent upon uncertain caprice than upon any 
 fixed laws. And if that reafon which rules my mind, or 
 your's, has happened to fet up a favourite notion, it not only 
 fubmits implicitly to it, but defires that the fame refpefib 
 mould be paid to it by all the reft of mankind. Now I hold 
 that any man may lawfully oppofe this defire in another, and 
 that, if he is wife, he will do his utmofl endeavours to 
 check it in himfelf. 
 
 LOCKE. Is there not alfo a weaknefs, of a contrary na- 
 ture to this you are now ridiculing ? do we not often take a 
 pleafure to fhew our own power, and gratify our own pride, 
 by degrading notions fet up by other men, and generally re- 
 fpeaed ? 
 
 BAYLE. I believe we do ; and by this means it often hap- 
 pens, that if one man builds and confecrates a temple to folly -, 
 another pulls it down. 
 
 LOCKE. Do you think it beneficial to human fociety, to 
 have all temples pulled down ? 
 
 BAYLE. I cannot fay that I do. 
 
 LOCKE. Yet I find not in your writings any mark of 
 diftin&ion, to fhew us which you mean to fave. 
 
 BAYLE. A true philofopher, like an impartial hiftorian, 
 muft be of no feh 
 
 LOCKE. Is there no medium between the blind zeal of 
 a fetary, and a total indifference to all religion ? 
 
 BAYLE. With regarcTto morality, I was not indifferent. |i 
 
 LOCKE. How could you then be indifferent with regard 1 
 to the fan&ions religion gives to morality? how could you! 
 publifh what tends fo direclly and apparently to weaken in 
 mankind the belief of thofe fan&ions ? was not this facrificing; 
 the great interefts of virtue to the little motives of vanity ? |{ 
 
 BAYLE. A man may a& indifcreetly, but he cannot do 
 wrong, by declaring that, which, on a full difcufiion of the' 
 queftion, he fincerely thinks to be true. 
 
 LOCKE. An enthufiaft, who advances doctrines prejudi- 
 cial to fociety, or oppofes any that are ufeful to it, ha? the 
 ftrength of opinion and the heat of a difturbed imagination 
 to plead, in alleviation of his fault. But your cool head, 
 
 and
 
 DIALOGUE .XXIV. 367 
 land found judgment, can have no fuch excufe. I know very 
 [well there are paffages in all your works, and thofe not a 
 few, where you talk like a rigid moralift. I have alfo heard 
 tthat your charader was irreproachably good. But when, 
 pn the moft laboured parts of your writings, you fap the fureft 
 foundations of all moral duties, what avails it that in others, 
 or in the condud of your life, you have appeared to refpeft 
 ;.them ? how many, who have ftronger paflions than you had, 
 and are defirous to get rid of the curb that reftrains them, 
 lyrill lay hold hold of your fcepticifm, to fet themfelves loofe 
 pom all obligations of virtue ! What a misfortune is it to 
 fcave made fuch a ufe of fuch taJents ! It would have been 
 jbetter for you, and for mankind, if you had been one of the 
 Wulleft of Dutch theologians, or the moft credulous monk in 
 h Portuguefe convent. The riches of the mind, Tike thofe 
 fortune, may be employed fo perverfely, as to become a 
 bbifance and peft, inftead of an ornament and funport to 
 Jfociety. 
 
 i B A Y L E. You are very fevere upon me. But do you count 
 
 ;it no merit, no fervice to mankind, to deliver them from the 
 
 frauds and fetters of prieftcraft, from the deliriums of fanati- 
 
 him, and from the terrors and follies of fuperftition? Confider 
 
 fiow much mifchief. thefe have done to the world ! Even in 
 
 ;ehe laft age what maffacres, what civil wars, what convul- 
 
 iions of government, what confufion in fociety did they 
 
 produce ! Nay, in that we both |',Ved in, though much more 
 
 ^lightened than the former, did I not fee them occafion a 
 
 violent perfection in my own country ? and can you blame 
 
 ; 3je tor linking at the root of thefe evils ? 
 
 ; LOCKE. The root of thefe evils, you well know, was/Mfc 
 
 {ehg,on ; ; but you ftruck at the true. Heaven and hell are not 
 
 wore different, than the fvftem of faith I defended, and that 
 
 Which produced the horrors of which you fpeak. Whv 
 
 ,-vould you fo fallaciouOy confound them together in fome of 
 
 our writings, that it requires much more judgment, and a 
 
 lore diligent attention, than ordinary readers" have, to fe 
 
 ,-^ratc them again, and to make the proper diftindions ? 
 
 his indeed is the great art of the moft celebrated free-think- 
 
 .?. 1 hey recommend themfelves to warm and ingenuous 
 
 tends by lively ftrokes of wit, and by arguments really 
 
 ong agamft fuperftition, enthufiafm, and prieftcraft But 
 
 the fame time, they infiduoufly throw the colours of thefe 
 
 pon the fair face of true religion, and drefs her out in their 
 
 SbleMrt! mall ^ n l f nt ^ ntention to render her odious or def- 
 ;cabe to thofe, who have not penetration enough to dif- 
 -ern the amp.ous fraud. Some of them may have thus de- 
 ceived
 
 
 368 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 ceived themfelves, as well as others. Yet it is certain, no 
 book, that ever was written by the moft acute of thefe gen- 
 tlemen, is fo repugnant to prieftcraft, to fpiritual tyranny, to 
 all abfurd fuperftitions, to all that can tend to difturb or in- 
 jure fociety, as that Gofpel they fo much affeft to defpife. 
 
 BAYLE. Mankind is fo made, that, when they have been 
 over-heated, they cannot be brought to a proper temper again, 
 till they have been over-cooled. My fcepticifm might be ne- 
 ceffary, to abate the fever and phrenzy of falfe religion. 
 
 LOCKE. A wife prefcription indeed, to bring on a para- 
 lytical ftate of the mind, (for fuch a fcepticifm as your's is a 
 palfy, which deprives the mind of all vigour, and deadens its 
 natural and vital powers) in order to take off a fever, which 
 temperance, and the milk of the evangelical doftrines, would 
 probably cure ? 
 
 BAYLE. I acknowledge that thofe medicines have a great 
 power. But few doctors apply them untainted with the mix- 
 ture of fome harfher drugs, or fome unfafe and ridiculous 
 nojlrums of their own. 
 
 LOCKE. What ydu now fay is too true : GOD has given 
 us a moft excellent phyfic for the foul, in all its difeafes ; 
 but bad and interefted phyficians, or ignorant and conceited 
 quacks, adminifter it lb ill to the reft of mankind, that much 
 of the benefit of it is unhappily loft. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXV. 
 
 ARCHIBALD, earl of DOUGLAS, duke of Touraine. 
 JOHN duke of ARGYLE and GREENWICH, field marfhal of 
 his Britannic majefty's forces. 
 
 ARC. "^7 E S, noble Douglas,* it grieves me that you 
 A and your fon, together with tfee brave earl o:; 
 Buchan, fhould have employed fo much valour, and have 
 thrown away your lives, in fighting the battles of that ftate 
 which, from its fituation and interefts, is the perpetual am 
 moft dangerous enemy to Great-Britain. A Britifh noble 
 man ferving France appears to me as unfortunate, and a 
 much out of his proper fphere, as a Grecian commander, en' 
 gaged in the fervice of Perfia, would have appeared to Arif 
 tides or Agefilaus. 
 
 DOUG. In ferving France, I ferved Scotland. The Frenc'j 
 were the natural allies to the Scotch ; and, by fupportin 
 
 the: 
 
 * See Buchan- Rerum Scoticarum, 1. x. p. 338. A. D. 1424- j
 
 DIALOGUE XXV. 369 
 
 their crown, I enabled my countrymen to maintain their in- 
 dependence againft the Englim. 
 
 ARC. The French indeed, from the unhappy (late of our 
 country, were ancient allies to the Scotch ; but that they ever 
 were our natural allies, I deny. Their alliance was proper 
 and neceflary for us, becaul'e we were then in an unnatural 
 date, difunited from England. While that difunion conti- 
 nued, our monarchy was compelled to lean upon France for 
 allidance and fupport. The French power and policy kept 
 us, I acknowledge, independent on the Englim, but depen- 
 dent on them ; and this dependence expofed us to many 
 grievous calamities, by drawing on our country the formida- 
 ble arms of the Englim, whenever it happened that the 
 French and they had a quarrel. The fuccours they afforded 
 us were diftant, and uncertain. Our enemy was at hand, fu- 
 perior to us in drength, though not in valour. Our bor- 
 ders were ravaged ; our kings were (lain, or led captive ; 
 we loft all the advantage of being the inhabitants of a great 
 ifland ; we had no commerce, no peace, no fecurity, no de- 
 gree of maritime power. Scotland was a back-door, through 
 which the French, with our help, made their inroads into 
 England : if they conquered, we obtained little benefit frorn 
 it ; but, if they were defeated, we were always the devoted 
 victims, on whom the conquerors feverely wrecked their re- 
 fentment. 
 
 DOUG. The Englim fuffered as much in thofe wars a? 
 we. How terribly were their borders laid wade and depo- 
 i pulated by our (harp incurfions ; how often have the f words 
 of my anceftors been (lained with the bed blood of that na- 
 tion ! were not our victories at Bannocbourn and at Otter- 
 bourn as glorious as any, that, with all the advantage of 
 numbers, they have ever obtained over us ? 
 
 ARC. They were: but yet they did us no lading good. 
 They left us ftill dependent on the protection of Fwnce : they 
 , left us a poor, a feeble, a diftrefled, though a mod valiant 
 nation. They irritated England, but could not fubdue it, 
 , nor hinder our feeling fuch effe&s of its enmity, as gave us 
 no reafon to rejoice in our triumphs. How much more hap- 
 pily, in the aufpicious reign of that queen who formed the 
 Union, was my f\vord employed in humbling the foes of 
 Great Britain ! with how fuperior a dignity did I appear jn, 
 the combined Britim fenate, maintaining the interefts of {he 
 whole united people jof England and Scotland, againd all 
 foreign powers, who attempted to didurb our general hap- 
 p'mefs, or to invade our common rights 1 
 
 B b DOUG.
 
 370 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 DOUG. Your eloquence and your valour had unqueftion- 
 nbly a much nobler and more fpacious field, to exercife them- 
 felves in, than any of thofe who defended the interefts of 
 only a part of the ifland. 
 
 ARG. Whenever I read any account of the wars between 
 the Scorch and the Englifli, I think I am reading a melan- 
 choly hiftory of civil diflenfions. Which-ever fide is defeat- 
 ed, their lof, appears to me a lofs to the whole, and an ad- 
 vantage to fome foreign enemy of Great Britain. But the 
 ftrength of that ifland is made compleat by the Union ; and 
 what a great Englifli poet has juftly faid in one inftance, is 
 now true in all ; 
 
 " The Hotfpur and the Douglas both together 
 " Are confident againft the world in arms." * 
 Who can refift the Englifli and Scotch valour combined? 
 When feparated, and oppofed, they balanced each other : 
 united, they will hold the balance of Europe. If all the 
 Scotch blood, that has been fhed for the French in unnatu-' 
 ral wars againft England, had been poured out, to oppofe the 
 ambition of France, in conjunction with the Englifli: if all 
 the Englifli blood, that has been fpilt as unfortunately in 
 ufelefs wars againft Scotland, had been preferved, France 
 would long ago have been rendered incapable of difturbing 
 our peace, and Great-Britain would have been the moft pow- 
 erful of nations. 
 
 DOUG. There is truth in all you have faid. But yet,;; 
 
 when I reflect on the infidious ambition of king Edward the, 
 Firft, on the ungenerous arts he fo treacheroufly employed; 
 to gain, or rather to fteal, the fovereignty of our kingdom..; 
 and the deteftable cruelty he fhcwed to Wallace, our brav< 
 champion and martyr ; my foul is up in arms againft th< 
 infolence of the Englifh, and I adore the memory of thofr 
 patriots, who died in aflerting the independence ofourcrowi 
 'and the liberty of our nation. 
 
 ARG. Had I lived in thofe days, I flioiild have joine; < 
 
 with thofe patriots, and* been the foremoft to maintain f 
 
 noble a caufe. The Scotch were not made to be fubjfct t 
 
 -the Englifh. Their fouls are too great for fuch a timid fut 
 
 miflion. But they may unite and incorporate with a natio 
 
 they would not obey. Their fcorn of a foreign yoke, the! 
 
 ftrong and generous love of independence and freedom, mat 
 
 ^ their union with England more natural and more prope 
 
 Had the fpirit of the" Scotch been fervile or bafe, it cou 
 
 never have coalefced with that of the EngHfh. 
 
 Doui 
 * See Shakefpcar's Men. IV. Par. i.
 
 DIALOGUE XXV. 371 
 
 DOUG. It is true that the minds of both nations are con- 
 genial, and filled with the fame noble virtues, the fame im- 
 patience of fervitude, the fame magnanimity, courage, and 
 prudence, the fame genius for policy, for navigation and 
 commerce, for fciences and arts. Yet, notwithstanding this 
 happy conformity, when I confider how long they were ene- 
 mies to each other ; what an hereditary hatred and jea-. 
 loufy had fubfifted, for many ages, between them ; what 
 -private paflions, what prejudices, what contrary inter- 
 efts, muft have necefTarily obftru&ed every ftep of the 
 treaty ; and how hard it was to overcome the ftrong oppo- 
 fition of national pride ; I ftand aftoniftied that it was poftl- 
 ble to unite the two kingdoms upon any conditions ; and 
 much more that it could be done with fuch equal regard and 
 amicable fairnefs- to both ! 
 
 ARC. It was indeed a moft arduous, and difficult under- 
 taking ! The fuccefs of it muft, I think, be thankfully afcribed, 
 not only to the great firmnefs and prudence of thole who had 
 the management of it, but to the gracious afiiftance of Pro- 
 vidence, for the pcelervation of the Reformed religion amongft 
 us, which, in that conjuncture, if the Union had not been 
 ' made, would have been ruined in Scotland, and much en- 
 dangered in England. The fame good Providence has watch- 
 ed over and protected it fince, in a moft fignal manner, 
 againft the attempts of an infatuated party in Scotland, and 
 the arts of France, who by her emiflaries laboured to deftroy 
 it, as foon as formed ;* becaufe ihe juftly forefaw'that the 
 continuance of it would be deftrucYive to all her vaft defigns 
 againft the liberty of Europe. I myfelf had the honour to 
 have a principal (hare in fubduing one rebellion defigned to 
 Tubvert it; and, fince my death, it has been, I hope, efta- 
 biiftied for ever, not only by the defeat of another rebellion, 
 which came upon us in the midft of a dangerous war with 
 France, but by meafures prudently taken in order to prevent 
 fuch difturbances for the future. The minifters of the crown 
 have propofed, and the Britim legillature has enated, a wife 
 fyftem of laws, the object of which is to reform and to civi- 
 'lize the Highlands of Scotland ; to deliver the .people there 
 from the arbitrary power and oppreflTon of their chieftains ; 
 to carry the royal juftice and royal protection into the wild- 
 eft parts of their mountains ; to hinder their natural valour 
 from being abufed and perverted to the detriment of their 
 'country ; and to introduce among them arts, agriculture, 
 commerce, tranquillity, with all the improvements of focial 
 and polifhed life. 
 
 * See Ho.kc's Letters, and Lockart's Memoirs.
 
 37 2 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 DOUG. By what you now tell me you give me the higheft 
 idea of the great prince, your matter ; who, after having 
 been provoked by fuch a wicked rebellion, inftead of enflaving 
 the people of the Highlands, or laying the hand of power 
 more heavy upon th.em (which is the ufual confequence of 
 unfuccefsful revolts), has conferred on them the ineftimable 
 bleflings of liberty, juftice, and good order. To ad thus is 
 indeed to perfect the Union, and make all the inhabitants of 
 Great-Britain acknowledge, with gratitude and with joy, 
 that they are fubje&s of the fame well-regulated kingdom, 
 and governed with the fame impartial affection, by the fo- 
 vereign and father of the whole commonwealth. 
 
 ARC. The laws I have mentioned, and the humane, be- 
 nevolent policy of his majefty's government, have already 
 produced very falutary effeas in that part of the kingdom ; 
 and, if fteadily purfued, will produce many more. But no 
 words can recount to you the infinite benefits, which have 
 attended the Union, in the northern counties of England and 
 the fouthern of Scotland. 
 
 DOUG. The fruits of it muft be, doubtlefs, mod fenfible 
 there, where the perpetual enmity between the two nations 
 had occafioned the greateft diforder and defolation. 
 
 ARC. Oh Douglas could you revive and return into 
 Scotland, what a delightful alteration would you fee in that 
 country ! All thofe great trads of land, which in your time 
 lay untilled, on account of the inroads of the bordering Eng- 
 lifh, or the feuds and difcords that raged, with perpetual vio- 
 lence, within our own diftrafted kingdom, you would now 
 behold cultivated, and fmiling with plenty. Inftead of the 
 caftles, which every baron was compelled to erecl: for the 
 defence of his family, and where he lived in the b?rbarifm ol 
 Gothic pride, among miferable vaflali opprefled by the abuie 
 of his feudal powers, your eyes would be charmed with ele- 
 gant country-houfes, adorned with fine plantations and beau- 
 tiful gardens ; while happy villages or gay towns are rifint 
 about them, and enlivening the profped with every imagt 
 of rural wealth ! On our coafts trading cities, full of ney 
 manufactures, and continually encreafing the extent of thei 
 commerce ! In our ports and harbours innumerable merchan 
 {hips richly loaded,and protected from all enemies by the match; 
 lefs fleet of Great- Britain! But of all improvements the great 
 eft is in the minds of the Scotch. Thefe have profitted, eve' 
 more than their lands, by the culture, which the fettled peac 
 and tranquillity, produced by the Union, have happily give 
 to them ; and they have difcovcrcd fuch talents in all branche 
 of literature, as might render the Engliih jealous of beiri 
 
 excellq
 
 DIALOGUE XXV. 3?3 
 
 excelled by their genius, if there could remain a competiti- 
 on, when there remains no diftin<5tion between the two na- 
 
 tions. 
 
 DOUG. There may be emulation without jealoufy ; and 
 the efforts, which th.it emulation will excite, may render our 
 ifland fuperior in the fame of wit and good learning to Italf 
 or to Greece ; a fuperiority, which I have learnt in the Ely- 
 fian fields to prefer even to that which is acquired by arms. 
 But one doubt ftill remains with me concerning the Union. 
 I have been informed that no more than fixteen of our peers^ 
 except thofe who have Englim peerages (which fome of the 
 nobleft have not), now fit in the houfe of lords, as repre- 
 fentatives of the reft. Does not this in a great meafure di- 
 minim thofe peers who are not eleaed ? and have you not 
 found the eledion of the fixteen too dependent on the favour 
 of a court ? 
 
 ARC. It was impoffible that the Englifh could ever con- 
 fent, in the treaty of Union, to admit a greater number to 
 have places and votes in the upper houfe of parliament : but 
 all the Scotch peerage is virtually there, by reprefenta- 
 tion.* And thofe who are not eleded have every dignity 
 and right of the peerage, except the privilege of fitting in 
 the houfe of lords, and fome others depending thereon. 
 
 DOUG. They have fo : but when parliaments enjoy 
 
 fuch a fhare in the government of a country, as our's do at 
 this time, to be personally there is a privilege and a dignity 
 of the higheft importance. 
 
 ARG. I wifh it had been poflible to impart it to all. But 
 your reafon will tell you it was not. And confider, my lord, 
 that, till the Revolution in fixteen hundred and eighty-eight 
 the power vefted by our government in the lords of the Arti- 
 cles had made our parliaments much more fubje& to the in- 
 fluence of the crown than our eledions are now.f As, by the 
 manner in which they were conftituted, thofe lords were no 
 lefs devoted to the king than his own privy council ; and as 
 no propofition could then be prefented in parliament, if re- 
 jeded by them, they gave him a negative before debate. 
 This indeed was abolifhed upon the acceflion of king Willi- 
 am the Third, with many other oppreflive and defpotical 
 powers which had rendered our nobles abjel flaves to the 
 crown, while they were allowed to be tyrants over the peo- 
 ple. But if king James, or his fon, had been reftored, the 
 government he had exercifed would have been re-eftablifhed : 
 and nothing but the Union of the two kingdoms could have 
 
 effeaually 
 
 * See the aft of Union, art. }. 
 
 t See Robertfon's Hiftory of Scotland, 1. i. p. 69- jt.
 
 374 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD, 
 effeaually prevented that federation * We likewife owe to 
 the Union the fubfequent abolition of the Scotch privy coun- 
 cil, which had been the mod grievous engine oKtyranny ; 
 and that falutary law, which declared that no crimes fhould 
 be high treaibn or mifprifion of treafon in Scotland, but fuch 
 -as were fo in England ; and gave us the Englifh methods of 
 trial in cafes of that nature : whereas, before, there were fo 
 many fpecies of treafons, the conftruaion of them was fo un- 
 certain, and the trials were fo arbitrary, that no man could 
 be fafe from fuffering as a traitor.f By the fame aft of par- 
 liament we alfo received a communication of that noble pri- 
 vilege of the Englifh, exemption from torture ; a privilege, 
 which, though effential both to humanity and to juftice, no | 
 other nation in Europe, not even the freed: republick?, can j 
 boaft of pofTeffing. Shall we then take offence at fome ine- j 
 vitable circumftances, which may be objeaed to, on our 
 part, in the treaty of Union, when it has delivered us from 
 flavery,and all the worft evils that a (late can fuffer ?t It might 
 be eafily ihewn, that, in his political and civil condition, 
 every baron in Scotland is much happier now, and much 
 more independenf, than the higheft was under that conftitu-, 
 tion of government which continued in Scotland even after! 
 the expulfion of king James the Second. The greateft enemies'. 
 to the Union are the friends of that king, in whofe reign,; 
 and in his brother's, the kingdom of Scotland was fubjeaed; 
 to a defpotifm as arbitrary as that of France, and more t)v 
 rannically adminiftered. 
 
 DOUG. All I have heard of thofe reigns makes me blulh 
 with indignation at the fervility of our nobles, who could, 
 endure them fo long. What then was become of that un-| 
 daunted Scotch fpirit, which had dared to refift the Pla-ntaj 
 genets in the height of their power and pride? cquld the de-j 
 fcendants of thofe, who had difdained to be fubjeas ot Ed-; 
 ward the Firft, fubmit to be flavesof Charles the Second, oij. 
 James ? 
 
 ARC. They feemed in general to have loft every charac 
 teriflic of their natural temper, except a defire to abufe' th<: 
 royal authority, for the gratification of their private refent 
 
 ments in family quarrels. 
 
 POUG! 
 
 * See ad for rendering the Union of the two kingdoms morj 
 entire and complete, anno regiras Anns fexto. 
 
 f See aft for improving the Union of the two kingdoms, and 
 feptimo Annae reginse. 
 
 t See Robertfon's Hiftory of Scotland, 1. viii. and Hume s HI 
 tcrv of Charles JI ? c, 7. and James II. c. i.
 
 DIALOGUE XXV. 375 
 
 DOUG. Your grandfather, my lord, has the glory of not 
 ijdeferving this cenfure. 
 
 I ARC. I am proud that his fpirit, and the principles he pro- 
 filed, drew upon him the injuftice and fury of thofe times.* 
 But there needs no other proof than, the nature and the man- 
 iner of his condemnation, to mew what a wretched ftate our 
 Mobility then were in, and what an ineftimable advantage it 
 >s to them, that they are now to be tried as peers of Great 
 'Britain, and have the benefit of thofe laws which imparted 
 ,to us the equity and the freedom of the Englim conftitution.f 
 
 Upon the whole, as much as wealth is preferable to po- 
 iverty, liberty to opprefllon, and national ftrength to national 
 iweaknefs, fo much has Scotland inconteftably gained by the 
 Union. England too has fecured by it every public bleffing 
 hjhtch was before enjoyed by her, and has greatly augment- 
 led her ftrength. The martial fpirit of the Scotch, their 
 hardy bodies, their acute and vigorous minds, their induftry, 
 their aa.vity, are now employed to the benefit of the whole 
 liland. He is now a bad Scotchman who is not a good Eng- 
 lifliman, and he is a bad Englifhman who is not a good 
 Scotchman. Mutual intercourfe, mutual interefts, mutual 
 benefits, muft naturally be produdive of mutual afFedion 
 And when that is eftabliflied, when our hearts are fincerelv 
 united many great things, which fome remains of jealoufy 
 and d.flruft, or narrow, local partialities, may hitherto have 
 obftruded, will be done for the good of the whole united 
 kingdom. How much may the revenues of Great-Britain 
 be encreafed by the further encreafe of population, of induf- 
 try, and of commerce in Scotland ! what a mighty addition 
 to the ftock of national wealth will arife from the improve- 
 ment ot ourmoft northern counties, which are infinitely ca- 
 pable of being improved! The briars and thorns are in a 
 great meafure grabbed up : the flowers and fruits mav be 
 foon planted. And what more pleafmg, or what more glo- 
 rious employment, can any government have, than to attend 
 to the cultivating of fuch a plantation ? 
 
 DOUG. The profped you open to me of happinefs to my 
 country appears fo fair, that it makes me amends for the pain 
 with which I refka on the times wherein I lived, and indeed 
 on our whole hiftory for feveral ages. 
 
 ARC. That hiftory does, in truth, prefent to the mind a 
 long feries of the moft direful objeas, affaffinations, rebelli- 
 ons, anarchy, tyranny, and religion itfelf, either cruel, or 
 ioomy and unfocial. An hiftorian, who would paint it in 
 
 its 
 
 * See Hume's Hiftory of Charles II. c. -. 
 t See the aft of Union, art. 23.
 
 3,76 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 its true colours, muft take the pencil of Guercino or Salvator 
 Rofa. But the mod agreeable imagination can hardly figure 
 to itfelf a more pleafmg fcene of private and public felicity, 
 than will naturally refult from the Union, if all the preju- 
 dices againft it, and all diftin&ions that may tend, on either 
 fide, to keep up an idea of feparate interefts, or to revive a 
 (harp remembrance of national animofities, can be removed. 
 
 DOUG. If they can be removed ! I think it impofiible they 
 can be retained. To refift the Union is indeed to rebel againft 
 nature. She has joined the two countries, has fenced them 
 both with the fea, againft the invafion of all other nations.; 
 but has laid them entirely open the one to the other. Ac- 
 
 curfed be he who endeavours to divide them. " What 
 
 " God has joined, let no man put afunder." 
 
 The three following DIALOGUES are by another hand. 
 
 DIALOGUE xxvi. 
 
 CADMUS HERCULES. 
 
 HERC. T""\ O vou pretend to fit as high on Olympus as 
 \ J Hercules? did you kill the Nemean lion, the 
 Erymanthian boar, the Lernean ferpent, and Stymphalian 
 birds ? did you deftroy tyrants and robbers ? You value your- 
 felf greatly on fubduing one ferjpent : I did as much as that 
 while I lay in my cradle. 
 
 CAD. It is not on account of the ferpent I boaft myfelf a 
 greater benefactor to Greece than you. Actions fhould be 
 valued by their utility rather than their eclat. I taught 
 Greece the art of writing, to which laws owe their precifion 
 and permanency. You fubdued monfters ; I civilixed men. 
 It is from untamed paflions, not from wild beafts, that the 
 greateft evils arife to human fociety. B)f*wifdom, by art, 
 by the united ftrength of civil community, men have beer 
 enabled to fubdue the whole race of lions, bears, and fer- 
 pents, and, what is more, to bind in laws and wholefomc 
 regulations the ferocious violence and dangerous treachery 
 of the human difpofitjon. Had lions been deftroyed only ir 
 fingle combat, men had had but a bad time of it ; and wha 
 but laws could awe the men who killed the lions ? The ge 
 nuine glory, the proper diftinftion of the rational fpecies 
 arifes from the perfection of the mental powers. Courag 1 
 is apt to be fierce, and ftrength is often exerted in ab o 
 opprefiion. But wifdom is the aflbciate of juftice ; it aflift 
 her to form equal laws, to purfue right meafures, to correc" 
 power, protect weaknefs, and to unite individuals in a com
 
 D I A L O G U E XXVI. 377 
 
 mon intereft and general welfare. Heroes may kill tyrants ; 
 but it is wifdom and laws that prevent tyranny and opprefllon. 
 The operations of policy far furpafs the labours of Hercules, 
 preventing many evils which valour and might cannot even 
 redrefs. You heroes confider nothing but glory, and hardly 
 regard whether the conquefts which raife your fame are 
 really beneficial to your country. Unhappy are the people 
 who are governed by valour, not by prudence, and not mi- 
 tigated by the gentle arts ! 
 
 HERC. I do not expect to find an admirer of my ftrenu- 
 ous life in the man who taught his countrymen to fit ftill and 
 read, and to lofe the hours of youth and action in idle fpe- 
 culation and the fport of words. 
 
 CAD. An ambition to have a place in the regifters of fame 
 is the Euryftheus which impofes heroic labours on mankind. 
 The Mufes incite to action, as well as entertain the hours of 
 repofe ; and I think you mould honour them for prefenting 
 to heroes fuch a noble recreation, as may prevent their tak- 
 ing up the dlftaffy when they lay down the club. 
 
 HERC. Wits as well as heroes can take up the diftaff. 
 What think you of their thin-fpun fyftems of philofophy, or 
 lafcivious poems, or Milefian fables ? Nay, what is ftill worfe, 
 are there not panegyrics on tyrants, and books that blafpheme 
 the gods, and perplex the natural fenfe of right and wrong ? 
 I believe, if Euriftheus was to fet me to work again, he 
 would find me a worfe tafk than any he impofed ; he would 
 make me read through a great library ; and I would ferve it 
 as I did the Hydra, I would burn as I went on, that one 
 chimera might not rife from another, to plague mankind. I 
 mould have valued myfelf more on clearing the library, than 
 on cleanfing the Augean (tables. 
 
 CAD. It is in thofe libraries only that the memory of your 
 labours exifts. The heroes of Marathon, the patriots of Ther- 
 mopylae, owe their immortality to me. All the wife infti- 
 tutions of lawgivers, and all the doctrines of fages, had pe- 
 riflied in the ear, like a dream related, if letters had not pre- 
 ferved them. Oh Hercules ! it is not for the man who pre- 
 ferred virtue to pleafure to be an enemy to the Mufes. Let 
 Sardanapalus, and the filken fons of luxury, who have wafted 
 life in inglorious eafe, defpife the records of action, which 
 bear no honourable teftimony to their lives. But true merit, 
 heroic virtue, each genuine offspring of immortal Jove, 
 fhould honour the facred fource of lafting fame.
 
 378 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 HER. Indeed, if writers employed themfelves only in re- 
 cording the a.GLs of great men, much might be faid in their 
 favour. But why do they trouble people with their medita- 
 tions? can it fignify to the world what an idle man has been 
 thinking ? 
 
 CAD. Yes it may. The moft important and extenfive ad- 
 vantages mankind enjoy are greatly owing to men who have 
 never quitted their clofets. To them mankind is obliged for the 
 facility and fecurity of navigation. The invention of the com- 
 pafs has opened to them new worlds. The knowledge ot the 
 mechanical powers has enabled them to conftruct fuch wonder- 
 ful machines, as perform what the united labour of millions 
 by the fevered drudgery could not accomplifh. Agriculture 
 too, the moft ufeful of arts, has received its mare of improve- 
 ment from the fame fource. Poetry likewife is of excellent 
 uie, to enable the memory to retain with more eafe, and to 
 imprint with more energy upon the heart, precepts of virtue 
 and virtuous actions. Since we left the world, from the Ifttle 
 root of a few letters, fcience has fpread it's branches over all 
 nature, and raifed its head to the heavens. Some philofophers 
 have entered fo far into the counfels of Divine Wifdom, as to 
 explain much of the great operations of nature. The dimen- 
 ftons and diftances of the planets, the caufes of their revolu- 
 tions, the path of comets, and the ebbing and flowing of tides, 
 are underftood and explained. Can any thing raife the glory 
 of the human fpecies more, than to fee a little creature, in- 
 habiting a fmall fpot, amidft innumerable worlds, taking a 
 furvey of the univerfe, comprehending its arrangement, and 
 entering into the fcheme of that wonderful connexion ami 
 correfpondence of things fo remote, and which it feems the 
 utmoft exertion of Omnipotence to have eftablifhed ? What a 
 volume of wifdom, what a noble theology, do thefe difcoveries 
 open to us ! While fome fuperior geniufeshave feared to thefe 
 fubliine fubje&s, other fagacious and diligent minds have been 
 enquiring into the moft minute woi ksof the infinite Artificer : 
 the fame care, the fame providence, is exerted thro' the whole, 
 and we mould learn from it that to true wifdom, utility and 
 fitnefs appear perfection, and whatever is beneficial is noble. 
 
 HER. I approve of fcience as far as it is afllftant to action. 
 I like the improvement of navigation, and the difcovery of the 
 greater part of the globe, becaufe it opens a wider field tor the 
 mafter fpirits of the world to buftle in. 
 
 CAD. There fpoke the foul of Hercules. But if learned 
 men are to be efteemed for the afliftance they give to active 
 minds in their fchemes, they are not lefs to be valued for their 
 
 endeavours
 
 DIALOGUE XXVII. 379 
 
 endeavours to give them a right direction, and moderate their 
 too great ardour. The ftudy of hiftory will teach the warrior 
 and the legiflator by what means armies have been victorious, 
 and dates have become powerful ; and in the private citizen, 
 they will inculcate the love of liberty and order. The writ- 
 ings of fages point out a private path of virtue, and fhew that 
 the beft empire is felf-government, and fubduing our paflions 
 the nobleft of conquefts. 
 
 HER. The true fpiritof heroifm acts by a fort of infpirati- 
 on, and wants neither the experience of hiflory, nor the doctrines 
 of philofophers, to direct it. But do not arts and fciences 
 render men effeminate, luxurious, and inactive ; and can you 
 deny that wit and learning are often made fubfervient to very 
 bad purpofes ? 
 
 CAD. I will own that there are fome natures fo happily 
 formed, they hardly want the affiftance of a mafter, and the 
 rules of art, to give them force or grace in every thing they 
 do. But thefe heayen-infpired genuifes are few. As learning 
 flourifhes only where eafe, plenty, and mild government fub- 
 fift, in fo rich a foil, and under fo foft a climate, the weeds 
 of luxury will fpring up among the flowers of art ; but the 
 fpontaneous weeds would grow more rank, if they were al- 
 lowed the undiflurbed pofleflion of the field. Letters keep a 
 frugal temperate nation from growing ferocious, a rich one 
 from becoming entirely fenfual and debauched. Every gift of 
 the gods is fometimes abufed ; but wit and fine talents by a 
 natural law gravitate towards virtue : accidents may drive them 
 out of their proper direction ; but fuch accidents are a fort of 
 prodigies, and, like other prodigies, it is an alarming omen, and 
 of dire portent to the times. For if virtue cannot keep to 
 her allegiance thofe men, who in their hearts confefs her di- 
 vine right, and know the value of her laws, on whofe fide- 
 lity and obedience can me depend ? May fuch genuifes never 
 defcend to flatter vice, encourage folly, or propagate irreligion ; 
 but exert all their powers in the fervice of virtue, and celebrate 
 the noble choice of thofe, who, like you, preferred her to 
 pleafure ! 
 
 DIALOGUE XXVII, 
 MERCURY. And a modern fine LADY. 
 
 MRS. M.TNDEED, Mr. Mercury, I cannot have the plea- 
 X fure of waiting upon you now. I am engaged, 
 abfolutely engaged. 
 
 MER.
 
 
 380 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 MER. I know you have an amiable affe&ionate hufband 
 and feveral fine children ; but you need not be told, that 
 neither conjugal attachments, maternal affe&ion, nor even 
 the care of a kingdom's welfare or a nation's glory can excufe 
 a perfon who has received a fummons to the realms of death. 
 If the grim meflenger was noc as peremptory as unwelcome, 
 Charon would not get a paffenger (except now and then an 
 hypochondriacal Englifhman) once in a century. You muft 
 be content to leave your hufband and family, and pafs the Styx. 
 . Mrs. M. I did not mean to infift on any engagement with 
 my hufband and children ; I never thought myfelf engaged to 
 them. I had no engagements but fuch as were common to f 
 women of my rank. Look on my chimney-piece, and you i 
 will fee I was engaged to the play on Mondays, balls on Tuef- 
 days, the opera on Saturdays, and to card-aflemblies the reft ii 
 of the week, for two months to come ; and it would be the 
 rudeft thing in the world not to keep my appointments. If 
 you will (lay for me till the fummer-feafon, I will wait on 
 you with all my heart. Perhaps the Elyfian fields may be 
 lefs deteflable than the country in our world. Pray have you 
 a fine Vauxhall and Ranelagh ? I think I mould not diflike 
 drinking the Lethe waters when you have a full feafon. ' 
 
 MER. Surely you could not like to drink the waters of- 
 oblivion, who have made pleafure the bufinefs, end, and aim 
 of your life ! It is good to drown cares: but who would wafh 
 away the remembrance of a life of gaiety and pleafure? 
 
 MRS. M. Diverfion was indeed the bufinefs of my life, but-: 
 as to pleafure I have enjoyed none fince the novelty of my 
 amufements was gone off. Can one be pleafed with feeing thei 
 fame thing over and over again ? Late hours and fatigue gave 
 me the vapours, fpoiled the natural chcarfulnefs of my tem- 
 per, and even in youth wore away my youthful vivacity. 
 
 MER. If this way of life did not give you pleafure, whyj 
 did you continue in it ? I fuppofe you did not think it was ve- 
 ry meritorious. 
 
 MRS. M. I was too much engaged to think at all : fo fai 
 indeed my manner of life was agreeable enough. My friends al- 
 ways toldmediverfions were neceffary, and my dofitor affurec 
 me diffipation was good for my fpirits ; my hufband infifted thai 
 it was not, and you know that one loves to oblige one's friends 
 comply with one's doctor, and contradi& one's hufband ; anc 
 befides I was ambitious to be thought du ban ton* 
 
 MER. Bon ton f what is that, Madam ? Pray define it. i 
 
 MRS, M| 
 
 * Lu ban ion is a cant phrafe in the modern French Janguag' 
 for the faihionable air of conversation and manners.
 
 DIALOGUE. XXVII. 381 
 
 MRS. M. Oh Sir, excule me, it is one of the privileges 
 of the ban ton, never to define, or be defined. It is the 
 child and the parent of jargon. It is I can never tell you 
 what it is : but I will try to tell you what it is not. In con- 
 verfation, it is not wit ; in manners, it is not politenefs ; inbe- 
 \ haviour, it is not addrefs ; but it is a little like them all. It 
 can only belong to people of a certain rank, who live in a cer- 
 tain manner, with certain perfons, who have not certain vir- 
 tues, and who have certain vices, and who inhabit a certain 
 part of the town. Like a place by courtefy, it gets an higher 
 rank than the perfon can claim, but which thofe who have a 
 legal title to precedency dare not difpute, for fear of being 
 thought not to underftand the rules of politenefs. Now, Sir, 
 I have told you as much as I know of it, though I have ad- 
 mired and aimed at it all my life. 
 
 MEH. Then, Madam, you have wafted your time, faded 
 your beauty, and deftroyed your health, for the laudable pur- 
 pofes of contradicting your hufband, and being this fomething 
 and this nothing called the ban ton. 
 
 MRS. M. What would you have had me do ? 
 MER. I will follow your mode of inftru&ing. I will tell 
 you what I would not have had you do. I would not have had 
 you facrifice your time, your reafon, and your duties, to fafhion 
 and folly. I would not have had you negle6t your hufband's 
 |happinefs,and your children's education. 
 
 MRS. M. As to the education of my daughters, I fpared 
 no expence ; they had a dancing- mafter, mufic-mafter, and 
 1 drawing-mafler ; and a French governefs, to teach them be- 
 haviour and the French language. 
 
 MIR. So their religion, fentiments, and manners, were to 
 be learnt from a dancing-mafter, mufic-mafter, and a chamber- 
 maid ! Perhaps they might prepare them to catch the bon ton. 
 Your daughters mud have been fo educated as to fit them to be 
 wives without conjugal affe&ion, and mothers without mater- 
 nal care. I am forry for the fort of life they are commencing, 
 and for that which you have juft concluded. Minos is a four 
 old gentleman, without the leaft fmattering of the bon ton, and 
 I am in a fright for you. The beft thing I can advife you is, 
 'to do in this world as you did in the other; keep happinefs in 
 your view, but never take the road that leads to if. Remain 
 'on this fide Styx ; wander about without end or aim ; look 
 into the Elyfian fields, but never attempt to enter into them, 
 left Minos mould pufh you into Tartarus : for duties negle&ed 
 maybringonafentence not much lefs fevere than crimes com- 
 mitted. fSr . : - ; 
 
 D I A L O G U I>
 
 382 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXVIir. 
 
 PLUTARCH. CHARON. And a modern BOOKSELLER. 
 
 CHA.T TERE is a fellow who is very unwilling to land in 
 X~l our territories. He fays he is rich, has a great 
 deal of bufinefs in the other world, and muft needs return to 
 it : he is fo troublefome and obftreperous 1 know not what to 
 do with him. Take him under your care therefore, good 
 Plutarch ; you will eafily awe him into order and decency by 
 the fuperiority an author has over a bookfeller. 
 
 BOOKS. Am I got into a world fo abfolutely the reverfe of| 
 that I left, that here authors domineer over lookfellers ? Dear 
 Charon, let me go back, and I will pay any price for my paf- 
 fage. But, if I muft: flay, leave me not with any of thofe 
 who are (tiled clajjical authors. As to you, Plutarch, I have'' 
 a particular animofity againft you, for having almofl occafion- 
 ed my ruin. When I firft fet up (hop, undei Handing but little 
 of bufmefs, I unadvifedly bought an edition of your lives ; a 
 pack of old Greeks and Romans, which coft me a great fum 
 of money, I could never get off above twenty fets of them. 
 I fold a few to the Univerfities, and fome to Eaton and Weft- 
 minder ; for it is reckoned a pretty book, for boys and under- 
 graduates ; but, unlefs a man has the luck to light on a pedant- 1 
 he (hall not fell a fet of them in twenty years. 
 
 PLUT. From the merit of the fubjeSs, I had hoped ano- 1 
 ther reception for my works. I will own indeed, that I am no' 
 always perfectly accurate in every circumftance, nor do I give 
 fo exact andcircumftantial a detail of the actions of my heroes 
 as may be expected from a biographer who has confined him 
 felf to one or two characters. A 7.eal to prelerve the memo 
 ry of great men, and to extend the influence of fuch noble ex 
 amples, made me undertake more than I couM accomplilh i 
 the firft decree of perfection : but furely the characters of m 
 
 illuftrioi;
 
 DIALOGUE XXVIII. 383 
 
 illuftrious men are not fo imperfe&ly (ketched, that they will 
 not {land forth to all ages as patteThs of virtue, and incitements 
 to glory. My reflections are allowed to be deep and fagacious; 
 and what can be more ufeful to a reader than a wife man's 
 judgement on a great man's conduct ? In my writings you will 
 find no ram cenfures, no undeferved encomiums, no mean 
 compliance with popular opinions, no vain oftentation of cri- 
 tical (kill, nor any affe&edyfw^?. In my parallels, which ufed 
 to be admired as pieces of excellent judgement, I compare 
 iwith perfect impartiality one great man with another, and 
 each with the rule of jtiftice. If indeed latter ages have pro- 
 duced greater men and better writers, my heroes and my works 
 sought to give place to them. As the world has now the ad- 
 ivantage of much better rules of morality than. the unafllfled 
 reafon of poor Pagans could form, I do not wonder, that thofe 
 ,vices, which appeared to us as mere blemilhes in great cha- 
 ira&ers, mould feem moft horrid deformities in the purer eyes 
 of the prefent age : a delicacy I do not blame, but admire and 
 commend. And I mud cenfure you for endeavouring, if you 
 could publifh better examples, to obtrude on your countrymen 
 fuch as were defective. I rejoice at the preference which they 
 give to perfect and unallayed virtue ; and as I (hall ever retain 
 ,an high veneration for the illuflrious men of every age, I mould 
 be glad you would give me fome account of thofe perfons, who, 
 in wifdom, juftice, valour, patriotifm, have eclipied my Solon, 
 Numa, Camillus, and other boafts of Greece or Rome. 
 
 BOOKS. Why matter Plutarch, you are talking Greek in- 
 deed. That work which repaired the lofs I fuftained by the 
 |coftly edition of your books, was, '* The Lives of the High- 
 waymen :" but I fliould never have grown rich, if it had not 
 been by publifhing " the lives of men that never lived." You 
 muft know, that though in all times it was pofllble to have a 
 great deal of learning and very little wifdom, yet it is only by 
 a modern improvement in the art of writing, that a man may 
 ; read all his life and have no learning or knowledge at all, which 
 begins to be an advantage of the greateft importance. There 
 is as natural a war between your men of fcience and fools, as 
 between the cranes and the pigmies of old. Moft of our 
 young men having deferted to the fools, the party of the 
 learned is near being beaten out of the field ; and I hope in a 
 ilittle while they will not dare to peep out of their forts and 
 faftneflfes at Oxford and Cambridge. There let them ftay 
 and (ludy old mufty moralifts, till one falls in love with the 
 
 Greek, 

 
 384 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Greek, another with the Roman virtue : but our men of the 
 world mould read our new Gooks, which teach them to have 
 no virtue at all. No book is fit for a gentleman's reading, 
 which is not void of fats and of doctrines, that he may not 
 grow a pedant in his morals or converfation. I look upon hif- 
 tory (I mean real hiftory) to be one of the worft kinds of ftu- 
 dy. Whatever has happened may happen again ; and a well- 
 bred man may unwarily mention a parallel inftance he had 
 met with in hiftory, andte betrayed into the aukwardnefs of 
 introducing into his difcourfe a Greek, a Roman, or even a 
 Gothic name. But when a gentleman has fpent his time in 
 reading adventures that never occurred, exploits that never 
 were atchieved, and events that not only never did, but ne- 
 ver can happen, it is impoflible that in life or in difcourfe he 
 (hould ever apply them. A fecret hiftory, in which there is 
 no fecret and no hijiory t cannot tempt indifcretion to blab, or 
 vanity to quote ; and by this means modern converfation 
 flows gentle and eafy, unincumbered with matter, and un- 
 burthened of inftru&ion. As the prefent ftudies throw no 
 weight or gravity into difcourfe and manners, the women are 
 not afraid to read our books, which not only difpofe to gallan- 
 try and coquetry, but give rules for them, Caefar's Com- 
 mentaries, and the account of Xenophon's expedition, are not 
 more ftudied by military commanders, than our novels are by 
 tie fair : to a different purpofe indeed ; for their militar) 
 maxims teach to conquer, our's to yield ; thofe inflame tht 
 vain and idle love of glory, thefe inculcate a noble contemp 
 of reputation. The women have greater obligations to ou: 
 writers, than the men. By the commerce of the world, mei 
 might learn much of what they get from books; but the poo 
 women, who in their early youth are confined and retrained 
 if it were not for the friendly afliftance of books, would re 
 main long in an infipid purity of mind, with a difcouragin 
 referve of behaviour. 
 
 PLUT. As to your men who have quitted the ftudy c 
 virtue for the ftudy of vice, ufeful truth for abfurd fancy, ar 
 real hiftory for monftrous fiction, I have neither regard nc 
 companion for them : but I am concerned for the women wh 
 are betrayed into thefe dangerous ftudies ; and I wiih for the, 
 fakes I had expatiated more on the character of Lucretia at 
 Come other heroines. 
 
 BOOK
 
 DIALOGUE XXVIII. 385 
 
 Book. I tell you, our women do not read in order to live 
 Cr to die like Lucretia. If you would inform us, that a billet- 
 doux was found in her cabinet after her death, or give an hint 
 as if Tarquin really faw her in the arms of a flave, and that 
 (he killed herfelf, not to fuffer the (hameof a difcovery, fuch 
 anecdotes would fell very well. Or if even by tradition, but 
 better flill, if by papers in the Portion family, you could ftiew 
 fome probability that Portio died of dram-drinking, you 
 would oblige the world very much ; for you muft know, that 
 next to new-invented characters, we are fond of new lights 
 upon ancient characters; I mean fuch lights as (hew a re- 
 puted honeft man to have been a concealed knave ; an illuf- 
 trious hero a pitiful coward, &c. Nay, we are fo fond of 
 thefe kinds of information, as to be pleafed fometimes to fee a 
 chara&er cleared from a vice or crime it has been charged 
 | with, provided the perfon concerned be actually dead. But 
 in this cafe the evidence muft be authentic, and amount to a 
 demonflration ; in the other a detection .is not neceflary ; a 
 flight fufpicion will do, if it concerns a really good and great 
 | character. 
 
 Plut. I am the more furprifed at what you fay of the tafte 
 of your cotemporaries, as I met with a Frenchman who af- 
 ifured me that lefs than a century ago he had written a much 
 'admired life of Cyrus under the name of Artamenes, in which 
 he afcribed to him far greater actions than thofe recorded of 
 him by Xenophon and Herodotus ; and that many of the 
 great heroes of hiftory had been treated in the fame manner ; 
 that empires were gained and battles decided by the valour of 
 a fingle man, imagination beftowing what nature has denied, 
 tond the fyftem of human affairs rendered importable. 
 
 Bookf. I aflure you thefe books were very ufeful to the au- 
 'thors and their bookfellers: and for whofe benefit befides 
 (hould a man write ? Thefe romances were very falhionable, 
 md had a great fale : they fell in luckily with the humour of 
 :he age. 
 
 Plut. Monfieur Scuderi tells me they were written in the 
 imes of vigour and fpirit, in the evening of the gallant days 
 >f chivalry, which, though then declining, had left in the 
 learts of men a warm glow of courage and heroifm ; and 
 hey were to be called to books, as to battle, by the found of 
 he trumpet : he fays too, that, if writers had not accommo- 
 lated themfelves to the prejudices of the age, and written of 
 I'loody battles and defperate encounters, their works would 
 lave been efteemed too effeminate an amufement for gentle- 
 cien. Hiftories of chivalry, inftead of enervating, tend to 
 C c invigorate
 
 3 8 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 invigorate the mind, and endeavour to raife human nature 
 above the condition which is naturally prefcribed to it ; but as 
 ftri& juftice, patriotic motives, prudent counfels, and a difpaf- 
 fionate choice of what upon the whole is fitted and beft, do 
 not direct thefe heroes of romance, they cannot ferve for in- 
 ftru&ion and example, like the great characters of true hif- 
 tory. It has ever been my opinion, that only the clear and 
 fteady light of truth can guide men to virtue, and that the 
 leflbn which is impracticable muft be unufeful. Whoever 
 fhH defign to regulate his conduct by thete vifionary charac- 
 ters will be in the condition of fuperftitious people, who chufe 
 rather to a6t by intimations they receive in the dreams of the 
 night, than by the fober counfels of morning meditation. 
 "Yet I confefs it has been the practice of many nations to in- 
 cite men to virtue by relating the deeds of fabulous heroes ; 
 but furely it is the cuftom only of your's to incite them to 
 vice by the hiftory of fabulous fcoundrels. Men of fine ima- 
 gination have foared into the regions of fancy to bring back 
 Aftrea : you go thither in fearch of Pandora ; Oh difgrace to 
 letters ! O mame to the Mufes ! 
 
 BookJ. You exprefs great indignation at our prefent race of 
 writers ; but believe me the fault lies chiefly on the fide of 
 the readers. As Monfieur Scuderi obferved to you, authors 
 muft comply with the manners and difpofition of thofe who 
 are to read them. There muft be a certain fymj athy between 
 the book and the reader, to create a good liking. Would you 
 prefent a modern fine gentleman, who is negligently lolling in 
 an eafy chair, with the labours of Hercules for his recreation ? 
 or make him climb the Alps with Hannibal, when he is ex- 
 piring with the fatigue of laft night's ball ? Our readers muft 
 be amufed, flattered, Toothed ; fuch adventures muft be of- 
 fered to them as they would like to have a (hare in. 
 
 Plut. It fhould be the firft object of writers, to correct 
 the vices and follies of the age. I will allow as much com- 
 pliance with the mode of the times as will make truth and good 
 morals agreeable. Your love of fictitious characters might be 
 turned to good purpofe, if thofe prefented to the public were 
 to be formed on the rules of religion and morality. It muft be 
 confefled, that hiftory, being employed only about illuflrious 
 perfons, public events, and celebrated actions, does not fup- 
 ply us with fuch inftances of domeftic merit as one could wilh : 
 our heroes are great in the fie!d and the fenate, and act well 
 in great fcenes on the theatre cf the world : but the idea of a 
 man, who in the filent retired path of life never deviates into 
 vice, who confiders no fpectator but the omnifcient Beins;, and 
 
 foliciti
 
 DIALOGUE XXVIII. 3 & 7 
 
 Solicits no applaufe but bis approbation, is the nobleft model 
 that can be exhibited to mankind, and would be of the rnoft 
 general u f e . Examples of domeftic virtue would be more 
 particularly ufeful to women than thofe of great heroines 
 The virit.es of women are blafted by the breath of public 
 tame, as flowers that grow on an eminence are faded by the 
 fun and wmd, which expand them. But true female praife, 
 like the mufic of the fpheres, arifes from a gentle, a conta 
 arid a n equal progrefs in the path marked out for them by 
 the.r great Creator; and, like the heavenly harmony, it is 
 not adaptedjo the grofs ear of mortals, but is referved for fhe 
 de.ight of higher beings, by whofe wife laws they were or- 
 darned to give a fl lent light, and foed a mild benignant to- 
 fluence on the world. 
 
 j m Bookf. We have had fome Englim and French writers who 
 limed at what you fuggefr. In the fuppofcd charader of 
 Uaniia, (fa,d a clergyman to me a few days before I left the 
 world) one finds the dignity of heroifrri tempered by fhe meek- 
 ? efs and hum,hty of religion, a perfed purity of mind and 
 anft.ty of manners : in that of Sir Charles Grandlfori, a no- 
 )le pattern of ever pr.vate virtue, with fentiments fo exalted 
 s to render him equal to every public duty. 
 
 Phi '.Are both thefe characters by the fame author- ? 
 i Bookf Ay, mailer Plutarch ; and what will furprize you 
 nore, this author has printed for me. 
 
 | Plut. By what you fay, it is pity he fliould^r/*/ any work 
 it his own. Are there no other authors who write in this 
 nanner ? 
 
 RookJ. Yes, we have another writer of thefe imaginary 
 iiltortes ; one who has not long flnce defcended to thefe re- 
 .ions : his name is Fielding ; and his works, as I have heard 
 he beft judges fay, have a true fpirit of comedy, and an ex- 
 a reprefentation of nature, with fine moral touches. Htf 
 as not indeed given leflbns of pure and confummate virtue, 
 
 it he has expofed vice and meatinefs with all the powers of 
 
 licule ; and we have fome other good wits who have ex- 
 rted their talents to the purpofes you approve. Monfieurd* 
 
 anvaux, and fome other French writers, have alfo pro- 
 ;eded much upon the fame plan, with a fpirit and elegance 
 'hich give their works no mean rank among the belief lrttfet t 
 will own that, when there is wit and entertainment enough 
 i a book to make it felt, it is not the worfe for good morals' 
 
 CUaroti. I think, Plutarch, you have made this gentleman 
 
 :le more humble, and now I will carry him the reft of his 
 
 'urney. But he is too frivolous an animal to prefent to wife 
 
 C * * Minos.
 
 388 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Minos. I wifh Mercury were here ; he would damn him 
 for his dulnefs. I have a good mind to carry hhn to the Da- 
 na'ides, and leave him to pour water into their veflels, which, 
 like his late readers, are deftined to eternal emptinefs. Or 
 Jhall I chain him to the rock, fide to fide by Prometheus, 
 not for having attempted to fteal celeftial fire, in order to ani- 
 mate human forms, but for having endeavoured to extinguiih 
 that which Jupiter had imparted ? or fhall we conftitute him 
 frifeur to Tifiphone, and make him curl up her locks with 
 his faiires and libels ? 
 
 Plut. Minos does not efteem any thing frivolous that af- 
 fets the morals of mankind ; he punifhes authors as guilty of 
 every fault they have countenanced, and every crime they 
 have encouraged ; and denounces heavy vengeance for thei 
 injuries which virtue or the virtuous have fuffered in confe-; 
 quence of their writings. 
 
 ,The Four following DIALOGUES, not printed in the three firflji 
 Editions, are by the Author of the firft Twenty-five. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXIX. 
 
 PUBLIUS CORNELIUS SCIPIO AFRICANUS. 
 
 CAIUS JULIUS CAESAR. 
 
 g 
 
 LAS Casfar ! how unhappily did you end a lif 
 made illuftrious by the greateft exploits in wari 
 and moft various civil talents ! 
 
 Cafar. Can Scipio wonder at the ingratitude of Rome t ; 
 her generals ? did not he reproach her with it in the epitap; 
 he ordered to be infcribed upon his tomb at Liternum, lha , 
 mean village in Campania, to which fhe had driven the cor; : 
 queror of Hannibal and of Carthage ? I alfo, after fubduin 
 her moft dangerous enemies, the Helvetians, the Gauls, aR 
 the Germans, after raifmg her name to the higheft pitch ffl 
 glory, fhould have been deprived of my province, .reduced " 
 live as a private man, under the power of my enemies ai; 
 the enviers of my greatnefs ; nay, brought to a trial, at 
 condemned by the judgement of a faction, if I had not led ni 
 victorious troops to Rome, and by their afliftance, nfter a 
 my offers of peace had been iniquitoufly rejected, made m 
 felf mafter of a ftate, which knew fo ill how to recompei : 
 fuperior merit. Refentment of this, together with the t
 
 DIALOGUE XXIX. 389 
 
 cret machinations of envy, produced not long afterwards a 
 confpiracy of fenators, and even of forne whom 1 had moft 
 obliged and loved, againft my life, which they baitly took 
 away by affaflination. 
 
 Scipio. You fay you led your victorious troops to Rome . 
 How were they your troops? I thought the Roman armies 
 had belonged to the republic, not to their generals. 
 
 C'tefar. They did fo in your time. But before I came to 
 command them, Marius and Sylla had taught them, that they 
 belonged to their generals. And I taught the fenate, that a 
 veteran army, affectionately attached to its leader, could give 
 him all the treafures and honours of the ftate without afking 
 their leave. 
 
 Scipio. Juft gods! Did I then deliver my country from the 
 invading Carthaginian ; did I exalt it by victories above all 
 other nations, that it might become a richer prey to its own 
 rebel foldiers, and their ambitious commanders ? 
 
 C<ejar. How could it be otherwife ? was it poflible that the 
 conquerors of Europe, Alia, and Africk, could famely fubmit 
 to defcend from their triumphal chariots, and become fubjet 
 to the authority of praetors and confuls, eleQed by a popu- 
 lace corrupted by bribes, or enflaved to a confederacy of fac- 
 tious nobles, who, without regard to merit, confidered all the 
 offices and dignities of the ftate as hereditary pofleflions be- 
 longing to rheir families? 
 
 '' Scipio. If I thought it no diflionour, after triumphing over 
 Hannibal, to lay down my fafces, and obey, as all my ancef- 
 tors had done before me, the magiftrates of the republic ; 
 fuch a conduct would not have difhonoured either Mariifs, or 
 Sylla, or Caefar. But you all difrionoured yourfelves, when, 
 inftead of virtuous Romans, fuperior to your fellow-citizens 
 in merit and glory, but equal to them in a due fubje&ion to 
 'the laws, you became the enemies, the invaders, and the ty- 
 'rants of your country. 
 
 Cajar. Was I the enemy of my country, in giving it a ruler 
 fit to fupport all the majefty and weight of its empire ? did I 
 'invade it, when I marched to deliver the people from the 
 ufurped dominion and infolencc of a few fenators? was I a 
 'jrant, becaufe I would not crouch under Pompey, and let 
 him be thought my fupcrior, when I felt he was not my 
 '* 
 
 Scipio. Pompey had given you a noble example of mode- 
 ration, in twice difmifiing the armies, at the head of which he 
 lad performed fuch illuflrious sftions, arid returning, a pri- 
 vate citizen, into the bofom of his country. 
 
 C c 3 C*far.
 
 390 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Cafar. His moderation was a cheat. He believed that the i 
 authority his victories had gained him would make him ef-t 
 feftually mafter of the commonwealth, without the help of. 
 thofe armies. But finding it difficult to fubdue the united oppo- 
 fition of Craffus and me, he leagued himfeU" with us ; and, inj 
 confequence of that league, we three governed the empir*,j 
 But, after the death or" Craffus, my glorious achievements in; 
 fubduing the Gauls raifed fuch a jealcufy in him, that he could 
 no longer endure me as a partner in his power, nor could 11 
 iubmit to degrade myfelf info his fubjea. 
 
 Scipio. Am I then to underftand, that the civil war yot; 
 engaged in was really a mere conteft, whether you or Pompeji; 
 fliould remain fole lord of Rome ? 
 
 C<?Jar. Not fo for I offered, in my letters to the fenate'i 
 to lay down my arms, if Pompey at the fame time would la;l 
 down his, and leave the republic in freedom (a). Nor did I re! 
 folve to draw the fword, 'till not only the fenate, overpowered 
 by the fear of Pompey and his troops, had rejected thefe pfj 
 fers, but two tribunes of the people, for legally and juftly in 
 terpofing their authority in my behalf, had been forced to fli 
 from Rome, difguifed in the habit of flaves, and take refug 
 in my camp, for the fafety of their perfons. My camp wjjj 
 therefore the afylum of perfecuted liberty; and my arm i 
 fought to avenge the violation of the rights and majefty of trfl 
 people, as much as to defend the dignity of their general uij! 
 juftly oppreffed. 
 
 Scipio. You would therefore have me think, that you cot 
 tended for the equality and liberty of the Romans, againft trp 
 tyranny of Pompey and his lawlefs adherents. In fuch a w,i 
 I myfelf, if I had lived in your times, would have willing 
 been your lieutenant. Tell me then, on the iffue of this hi 
 nourable enterprise, when you had fubdued all your foes, ali 
 had no oppofition remaining to obftrucl: your intentions, d< 
 you eftablifli that liberty for which you fought ? did you ik: 
 flore the republic to what it was in my time ? 
 
 C<efar. I took the neceffary meafures to fecure to my ft 
 the fruits of my victories ; and gave a head to theempi* 
 which could neither fubfift with one, nor find another fo wl 
 fuited to the greatnefs of the body. 
 
 Scipio. There the true character of Caefar was feen fr 
 mafked. You had managed fo ikilfully in the meafures wha 
 preceded the civil war, your ofTers were fo fpecious, and tbl| 
 
 () See Plutarch & Suetonius in Vit. Caefaris. Caefar Commtt 
 de Bello Civili, 1. i. 
 
 appeal
 
 DIALOGUE XXIX. - Ql 
 
 appeared fo much violence in the condud of your 
 
 f, if you had fallen 
 
 , ' j- 7 d " cn " *, pouenty might have 
 
 Jubted, whether you were not a viaim to the intereits of 
 your country But your fuccefs, and the d^ot.fm yoTa er- 
 wards exerc.fed took off thofe difguifes, and mewed clear^, 
 that the aim of all your adions was tyranny 
 
 C*far. Let us not deceive ourfeives with found* and namu. 
 Kg That great minds fhouid afptre to fovercign power is a 
 ged law of nature It is an injury to mankind, u the hLheft 
 gbjlihes are not placed in the h.gheft flations. Had you, 
 Bcip.o, been kept down by the republican jealoufv of Cato the 
 |cenfor, Hann.bal would have never been recalled out of Italy, 
 defeated in Africk. And if I had not been treacheiouny 
 Ordered by the daggers of Brutus ard Caffius, my fword 
 ^rould have avenged the defeat of Craffus. and added L em. 
 pre of Parthia to that of Rome. Nor was my government 
 pyranmcal. It was mild, humane, and bounteous. *The wTrld 
 would have been happy under it, and wifhed ii 
 "* my death broke the pillars of "the public 
 whole empire a direful 
 
 t Scipio. You fay that great minds will naturally afpire to 
 ; overe,gn power. But, if they are good, as well asr ear, they 
 
 ill regulate their ambition by the laws of their country The 
 s otRorne permitted me to afp,re to the condud of the 
 
 r agamft Carthage; but they did not permit you to turn her 
 ,nns aga,nft herfelf and fubjed her to you^ will. The 
 reach of one law of liberty is a greater evil to a nation than 
 
 | U>fs of a province; and, in my opinion, the conqueft of 
 
 - rcanu ^but aflc yourfelf, 
 
 ether the height anJd, g n!ty of your mind, that noble pride 
 nch accompanies the magnanimity of a hero, could always 
 teop to a nice conformity with the laws of your country? is 
 
 En KT berty more cffentia1 ' mo '^ facred than that 
 Sf, g ?T fy membercifa free community to fubmit 
 
 ouh Kr m*f " ' UP n f Cgal ChargC br U - bt a S^ inf! him f r 
 ubhc m.f.lemeanour? , n what manner did yoS anfwer a re- 
 
 i^araccufatjon from a tribune of (he people, who charged 
 ou w lth embezzhng themoney of the flare? You told yo'iir 
 Jdges, that O n that day r ,n bad ' Vanquifbed Hannibal and 
 .r/W andbdethem/o//ow l^ 
 
 banks o the godt Nor could you ever be brought to (land a 
 
 >gal trial, or juMy thofe accounts, which you bad torn in 
 
 C c 4 the
 
 3 9 2 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 the fenate, when they were queftioned there by two magi- 
 ftrates in the name of the Roman people. Was this acting 
 like the fubjectof a free ftate? Had your victory procured you 
 an exemption from juftice? had it given into your hands the 
 money of the republic without account? If it had, you were 
 king of Rome. Pharfalia, Thapfus, and Munda could do no 
 more for me. 
 
 Scifiio. I did not queftion the right of bringing me to a 
 trial, but I difdained to plead in vindication of a character fo 
 unfpotted as mine. My whole life had been an anfwer to that 
 infamous charge, 
 
 C<efar. It may be fo: and, for my part, I admire the mag- 
 nanimity of your behaviour. But I mould condemn it as re- 
 pugnant and deftructive to liberty, if I did not pay more re- 
 fpect to the dignity of a great general, than to the forms of a 
 democracy, or the rights of a tribune. 
 
 Scipio. You are endeavouring to confound my caufe with 
 your's ; but they are exceedingly different. You apprehend- 
 ed a fentence of condemnation againft you for fome part of 
 your conduct, and, to prevent it, made an impious war on 
 your country, and reduced her to fervitude (a). I trufted the 
 justification of my affronted innocence to the opinion of my 
 judges, fcorning to plead for myfelf againft a charge unfup- 
 ported by any other proof than bare fufpicions and furmifes. 
 But I made no refiftance : I kindled no civil war: I left Rome 
 undifturbed in the enjoyment of her liberty. Had the malice 
 of my accufen been ever fo violent, had it threatened my de- 
 ftruction, I mould have chofen much rather to turn my fword 
 againft my own bofom, than againft that of my country. 
 
 Ctefar. You beg the queftion in fuppofing that I really 
 hurt my country by giving her a mafter. When Cato advifed 
 the fenate to make Pompey/o/? conful (b), he did it upon this 
 principle, that any kind of government is preferable to anarchy, 
 The truth of this, I prefume, no man of fenfe will conteft ; 
 and the anarchy, which that zealous defender of liberty fo 
 much apprehended, would have continued in Rome, if that 
 power, which the urgent neceffity of the ftate conferred upon 
 me, had not removed it. 
 
 Scipio. Pompey and you had brought that anarchy on th 
 (late, in order to ferve your own ends. It was owing to the 
 corruption, the factions, and the violence, which you had en- 
 couraged, from an opinion that the fenate would be forced tc 
 fubmit to an abfolute power in your hands, as a remedj 
 
 (a) Suetonius in Caefare. (b) See Plutarch's Life of Cacfar. 
 
 againl
 
 DIALOGUE XXIX. 393 
 
 again ft thofe intolerable evils. But Cato judged well in think- 
 ing it eligible to make Pompey/ofc conful rather than you die- 
 tator ; becaufe experience had fhewn that Pornpey refpeted 
 the forms of the Roman conftitution, and, though he fought, 
 by bad means as well as good, to obtain the higheft magiftra- 
 cies, and the mod honourable commands, yet he laid them 
 down again, and contented himfelf with remaining fuperior 
 in credit to any other citizen. 
 
 Cafar. If all the difference between my ambition and Pom- 
 pey's was only, as you reprefent it, in a greater or lefs re- 
 fpe& for the forms tf the conjiitution, I think it was hardly 
 becoming fuch a patriot as Cato to take part in our quarrel, 
 much lefs to kill himfelf rather than yield to my power. 
 
 Scipio. It is eafier to revive the fpirit of liberty in a govern- 
 ment where the forms of it remain unchanged, than where 
 they have been totally difregarded and abolifhed. But I readi- 
 ly own, that the balance of the Roman conftitution had been 
 deftroyed by the exceffive and illegal authority, which the 
 people were induced to confer upon Pompey, before any ex-- 
 traordinary honours or commands had been demanded by you. 
 And that is, I think, your beft excufe. 
 
 Cafar, Yes furely. The favourers of the ManiJian law 
 had an ill grace in defiring to limit the commiflions I obtain- 
 ed from the people, according to the rigour of certain obfo- 
 lete republican laws, no more regarded in my time than the 
 Sybilline oracles, or the pious inftitutions of Numa. 
 
 Scipio. It was the misfortune of your time that they were 
 not regarded. A virtuous man would not take from a de- 
 luded people fuch favour as they ought not beftow. I have a 
 right to fay this, becaufe I chid the Roman people, when, 
 over-heated by gratitude for the fervices 1 had done them, 
 they defired to make me perpetual conful and diflator (a)< 
 Hear this, and blufli. What I refufed to accept, you fnatch- 
 ed by force. 
 
 Ceffar. Tiberius Gracchus reproached you with the incon- 
 iiftency of your conduct, when, after refufing thefe offers, 
 vou fo little refpe&ed the Tribunitian authority. But thus 
 it muft happen. We are naturally fond of the idea of liber- 
 ty, till we come to fuffer by it, or find it an impediment to 
 fome predominant paffion ; and then we wifh to controul it, 
 as you did moft defpotically, by refufing to fubmit to the 
 juftice of the ftate. 
 
 Scipio. I have anfwered before to that charge. Tiberius 
 Gracchus himfelf, though my perfonal enemy, thought it be- 
 
 (a) Liv. 1. Ixxxviii. Sett. 56. 
 
 came
 
 394 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD, 
 came him to flop the proceedings againft me ; not for my 
 fake, but for the honour of my country, whofe dignity fuf- 
 fered with mine. Nevertheless I acknowledge, my conduct . 
 in that bufmefs was not absolutely blamelefs. The generous 
 pride of virtue was too flrong in my mind. It made me for- 
 get I was creating a dangerous precedent, in declining to 
 plead a legal accufation, brought againft me by a magiftrate 
 inverted with the majefty of the whole Roman people. It 
 made me unjuftly accufe my country of ingratitude, when {he 
 had fhewn herfelf grateful even beyond the true bounds of 
 policy and juftice, by not inflicting upon me any penalty for 
 fo irregular a proceeding. But, at the fame time, what a 
 proof did I give of moderation, and refpet for her liberty, 
 when my utmoft refentment could impel me to nothing more 
 violent than a voluntary retreat, and quiet baniftiment of my- 
 felf from the city of Rome ! Scipio Africanus offended, and 
 living a private man, in a country-houfe at Liternum, was an 
 example of more ufe to fecure the equality of the Roman 
 commonwealth, than all the power of its tribunes. 
 
 C<efar. I had rather have been thrown down the Tarpeian 
 rock, than have retired, as you did, to the obfcurity of a vil- 
 lage, after acYmg the firft part on the greateft theatre of the 
 world. 
 
 Scipio. An ufurper exalted on the higheft throne of the 
 univerfe is not fo glorious as I was in that obfcure retirement. 
 I hear indeed, that you, Caefar, have been deified by the flat- 
 tery of feme of your fucceffors. But the impartial judge- 
 ment of hiftory has confecrated my name, and ranks me in 
 the firft clafs of heroes and patriots : whereas the higheft 
 praife her records, even under the dominion ufurped by your 
 family, have given to you, is, that your courage and talents 
 vtere equal to the object your ambition afpired to, the empire 
 of the world ; and that you exercifed a fovereignty unjuftly. 
 acquired with a magnanimous clemency. But it would have 
 been better for your country, and better for mankind, if you 
 had never exifted. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXX. 
 
 PL,AT O" .D 10 G E N E s. 
 Diog. "pLATO, ftand off. A true philofopher, as I 
 
 j7 1S no company for a courtier of the tyrant of Sy- 
 racufe. I would avoid you, as one infe&ed wuh the moft 
 noifome of plagues, the plague of flavery. 
 
 Plato. He, who can miftake a brutal pride and favage in- 
 decency of manners for freedom, may naturally think that the 
 being in a court (however virtuous one's conduct, however 
 
 free
 
 DIALOGUE XXX. 395 
 
 free one's language there) is flavery. But I was taught by 
 my great mafter, the incomparable Socrates, that the bufinefs 
 of true philofophy is to confult and promote the true happi- 
 nefs of fociety. She muft not therefore be confined to a tub 
 or a cell. Her fphere is in the fenates, or the cabinets of 
 kings. While your feel: is employed in fnarling at the great, 
 or buffooning with the vulgar, (he is counseling thofe who 
 govern nations, infufiug into their minds humanity, juftice, 
 temperance, and the love of true glory, refifting their paf- 
 fions, when they tranfport them beyond the bounds of virtue, 
 and fortifying their reafon by the antidotes (he adminifters a- 
 gainft the poilbn of flattery. 
 
 Diog. You mean to have me underftand, that you went 
 to the court of the Younger Dionyfius, to give him antidotes 
 again ft the poifon of flattery. But I fay he fent for you only 
 to fweeten the cup, by mixing it more agreeably, and render- 
 ing the flavour more delicate. His vanity was too nice for 
 the naufeous common draught ; but your feafoning gave it a 
 relifh which made it go down moft delightfully, and intoxi- 
 cated him more than ever. Oh! there is no flatterer half 
 fo dangerous to a prince as a fawning philofopher ! 
 
 Plato. If you call it fawning, that I did not treat him with 
 fuch unmannerly rudenefs as you did Alexander the Great, 
 when he vifited you at Athens, I have nothing to fay. But, 
 in truth, 1 made my company agreeable to him, not for any 
 mean ends which regarded only myfelf, but that I might be 
 ufeful both to him and to his people. I endeavoured to give 
 a right turn to his vanity ; and know, Diogenes, that who- 
 ever will ferve mankind, but more efpecially princes, muft 
 compound with their weaknefies, and take as much pains to 
 gain them over to virtue, by an honeft and prudent complai- 
 fance, as others do to feduce them from it, by a criminal 
 adulation. 
 
 Diog. A little of my fagacity would have (hewn you, that, 
 if this was your purpofe, your labour was loft in that court. 
 Why did you not go and preach chaftity to Lais ? A philofo- 
 pher in a brothel, reading lectures on the beauty of conti- 
 nence and decency, is not a more ridiculous animal, than a 
 philpfopher in the cabinet, or at the table of a tyrant, defcant- 
 ing on liberty and public fpirit ! What effect had the leflbns 
 of your famous difciple Ariftotle upon Alexander the Great, 
 a prince far more capable of receiving inftru&ion than the 
 Younger Dionyfms? did they hinder him from killing his 
 belt friend, Clitus, for fpeaking to him with freedom ; or 
 from fancying himfelf a god, hecaufe he was adored by the 
 wretched flaves he had vanquiflied ? When I defirtd him not 
 
 to
 
 396 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 to Jland between me and the fun, I humbled his pride more, 
 and confequently did him more good, than Ariftole had done 
 by all his formal precepts. 
 
 Plato. Yet he owed to thofe precepts, that, notwithftand- 
 ing his exceffes, he appeared not unworthy of the empire of 
 the world. Had the tutor of his youth gone with him into 
 Afia, and continued always at his ear, the authority of that 
 wife and virtuous man might have been able to flop him, 
 even in the riot of conqueft, from giving way to thofe paf- 
 lions which dimonoured his character. 
 
 Diog. If he had gone into Afia, and had not flattered the ' 
 king as obfequiouily as Haepheftion, he would, like Callift- : 
 henes, whom he fent thither as his deputy, have been put to j 
 death for high treafon. The man who will not flatter, mud' 
 live independent, as I did, and prefer a tub to a palace. 
 
 Plato. Do you pretend, Diogenes, that, becaufe you 
 were never in a court, you never flattered ? How did you gain 
 the affe&ion of the people of Athens, but by foothing their 
 ruling pafllon, the defire of hearing their fuperiors abufed ? 
 Your cynic railing was to them the moft acceptable flattery. 
 This you well underftood, and made your court to the vul- 
 igar, always envious and malignant, by trying to lower alii 
 dignity and confound all order: you made your court, I fay, 
 as fervilely, and with as much offence to virtue, as the bafefti 
 flatterer ever did to the moft corrupted prince. But true 
 philofophy will difdain to a<t either of thefe parts. Neither 
 in the the aflemblies of the people, nor in the cabinets of 
 kings, will me obtain favour by fomenting any bad difpofi-1 
 tions. If her endeavours to do good prove unfuccefsful, flic: 
 will retire with honour, as an honeft phyfictan departs from 
 the houfeof a patient, whofe diftemper he finds incurable, or 
 who refufes to take the remedies he prefcribes. But if {he 
 fucceeds ; if, like the mufic of Orpheus, her fweet perfua- 
 fions can mitigate the ferocity of the multitude, and tame; 
 their minds to a due obedience of laws and reverence of ma- 
 gi ftrates ; or if (he can form a Timoleon, or a Numa Pom-: 
 pilius, to the government of a ftate, how meritorious is the' 
 work! One king, nay one minifter, or counfellor of ftate.! 
 imbued with her precepts, is of more value than all the fpe-! 
 culative, retired philofophers, or cynical revilers of prince* 
 and magiftrates, that ever lived upon earth. 
 
 Diog. Don't tell me of the mufic of Orpheus, and of his 
 taming wild beafts. A wild beaft brought to crouch and lid 
 the band of a ma/ler, is a much viler animal than he was irj 
 his natural ftate of ferocity. You feem to think, that th<! 
 bufinefs of philofophy is to polijb men into flaws j but I fay
 
 DIALOGUE XXX. 397 
 
 it is to teach them to affert, with an untamed and generous 
 fpirit, their independence and freedom. You profefs lo in- 
 flrut thofe who want to ride their fellow creatures, how to 
 
 .do it with an eafy and gentle rein ; but I would have them 
 thrown off, and trampled under the feet of all their deluded 
 or infulted equals, on whofe backs they have mounted. 
 Which of us two is the truefl friend to mankind ? 
 
 Plato. According to your notions, all government is de- 
 flruclive to liberty ; but I think that no liberty can fubfift 
 
 ; without government. A ftate of fociety is the natural ftate 
 of mankind. They are impelled to it by their wants, their 
 infirmities, their affections. The laws of focieiy are rules of 
 
 , life and a&ion neceffary to fecure their happinefs in that ftate. 
 
 'Government is the due enforcing of thofe laws. That go- 
 vernment is the beft, which does this mod effectually, and 
 moft equally ; and that people is the freeft, which is moft 
 fubmiffively obedient to fuch a government. 
 
 Diog. Shew me the government which makes no other ufe 
 of its power than duly to enforce the laws of fociety, and I 
 will own it intitled to the moft abfolute fubmiflion from all its 
 fubjeds. 
 
 Plato. I cannot mew you perfection in human inftitutions. 
 It is far more eafy to blame them than it is to amend them : 
 much may be wrong in the beft : but a good man refpets 
 
 the laws and the magiftrates of his country. 
 
 Diog. As for the laws of my country, I did fo far refpeS 
 them, as not to philofophife to the prejudice of the firft and 
 greateft principle of nature and of wifdom, felf-prefervation. 
 Though I loved to prate about high matters as well as So- 
 crates, I did not chufe to drink hemlock after his example. 
 But you might as well have bid me love an ugly woman, be- 
 caufe (he was dreffed up in the gown of Lais, as refpefl a fool 
 or a knave, becaufe he was attired in the robe of a magiftrate. 
 Plato. All I defired of you was, not to amufe yourfelf and 
 the populace by throwing dirt upon the robe of a magiftrate> 
 
 . merely becaufe he wore that robe, and you did not. 
 
 Diog. A philofopher cannot better difplay his wifdom, than 
 
 , by throwing contempt on that pageantry, which the ignorant 
 
 i multitude gaze at with a fenfelefs veneration. 
 
 Plato. He who tries to make the multitude venerate nothing, 
 is more fenfelefs than they. Wife men have endeavoured to 
 
 ; excite an awful reverence in the minds of the vulgar for ex- 
 
 i ternal ceremonies and ioims, in order to fecure their obedi- 
 
 , ence to religion and government, of which thefe are the fym- 
 
 , bols. Can a pbilofopber defire to defeat that good purpofe?
 
 398 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Diog. Yes, if he fees it abufed to fupport the evil purpofe* 
 of fuperftition and tyranny. 
 
 Plato. May not the abufe be corre&ed without lofing the 
 benefit ? is there no difference between reformation and de- 
 jlruflion ? 
 
 Diog. Half-meafuret do nothing. He who defires to re- 
 form muft not be afraid to pull down. 
 
 Plato. I know that you and your fe& are for pulling down 
 every thing that is above your own level. Pride and envy are 
 the motives that fet you all to work. Nor can one wonder 
 that paflions, the influence of which is fo general, fhould 
 give you many difciples and many admirers. 
 
 Diog. When you have eftablifhed your republic, if you 
 will admit me into it, I promife you to be there a moft re- 
 fpefljul fubjea. 
 
 Plato. I am confcious, Diogenes, that my republic was ' 
 imaginary, and could never be eftablifhed. But they (hew as i 
 little knowledge of what is practicable in politicks, a-s I did i 
 in that book, who fuppofe that the liberty of any civil fociety 
 can be maintained by thedeflru&ion of order and decency, of j 
 promoted by the petulance of unbridled defamation. 
 
 Diog. I never knew any government angry at defamation, j 
 when it fell on thofe who difliked or obftrufted its meafures. i 
 But I well remember, that the thirty tyrants at Athens called i 
 oppofition to them the dejlruflion of order and decency. 
 
 Plato. Things are not altered by names. 
 
 Diog. No but names have a ftrange power to impofe on 
 weak underftandings. If, when you were in Egypt, you had 
 laughed at the wormip of an onion, the priefts would have 
 called you an atheift, and the people would have ftoned you. < 
 But I prefume, that, to have the honour of being initiated 
 into the myfteries of that reverend hierarchy, you bowed as 
 low to it as any of their devout difciples. Unfortunately my | 
 neck was not fo pliant, and therefore I was never initiated 
 into the myfteries either of religion or government, but was j 
 feared or hated by all who thought it their intereft to make 
 them be refpeQed. 
 
 Plato. Your vanity found its account in that fear and that 
 hatred. The high prieft of a deity, or the ruler of a ftate, 
 is much lefs diftinguifhed from the vulgar herd of mankind, : 
 than the fcoffer at all religion, and the defpifer of all domi- 
 nion. But let us end our difpute. I feel my folly in conti- j 
 ruing to argue with one, who, in reafoning, does not feek to : 
 corr.e at truth, but merely, to (hew his wit. Adieu, Diogenes; i 
 
 I am
 
 DIALOGUE XXXI. 599 
 
 lam going to converfe with the fliades of Pythagoras, Sobn 
 
 ' "" 
 
 or ril 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXI. 
 
 I ARISTIDES. PRO cio N.-DEMOS THEN ES. 
 AriJJ. TJTO W could it happen, that Athens, after having 
 fr~A rVT recove , red an equality with Sparta, mould be 
 Forced to iubmit to the dominion of Macedon, when (he had 
 
 at the head 
 
 ;Jr b C ' ff happened becaufe our opinions of her interefts in 
 roreign affairs were totally different ; whieh made us a^ wkh, 
 1 conitant and I pernicious opposition, the one to the other 
 
 Arijt. I wifh to hear from you both (if you will indulce 
 ny curiofity) on what principles you could form fuch coa- 
 rary judgements concerning points of fuch moment to the 
 arety ot your country, which you equally loved 
 
 IHVi ^ 7 princi P le3 were the r ame wiih your's, Ari- 
 tides l laboured to maintain the independence of Athen* 
 igamft the mcroaching ambition of Macedon, as you had 
 na.nt.med it againft that of Perfia. I faw that our LngtK 
 vas unequal to the enterprife : but what we could not do 
 
 one, I thought might be done -by a union o f the principal 
 tees of Greece ; fuch a union as had been formed by you 
 1 hem.ftocles, in oppoiuion to the Perfians. To effea 
 nis was the great, the conftant aim of my policy; and, 
 hough traverfed in it by many whom the gold of Macedon 
 .ad corrupted and by Phocion, whom alone, of all the ene- 
 ^H H Th 7 y ? e ^ l mUfl a ^ uit of Corruption, I fo far fuc- 
 
 IfS Pi -. , U ^ ht Int the fiddof Ch^roneaanarmy 
 qualtoPh.l.p'.s The event was unfortunate; but Ariftides 
 
 vMlUotjudgeofthemedtsof aftatefman by the accidents 
 
 Pboc. Do not imagine, Ariftides, that I was lefs defiroua 
 han Demofthenes to preferve the independence and iiberry of 
 ,y country Bur before I engaged the Athenians in a war 
 
 f *'"/'?' l th Ught !t pr P er f C nfider wh t 
 of a battle would probaMy be. That which I 
 
 and 
 
 Demtf Would Athens not have been ruined if no battle 
 
 d been fought ? Could y u , Phouon, t! ink it fafety, to 
 
 our freecom depend on the moderation of Philip ? and 
 
 what
 
 400 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 what had we elfe to protect us, if no confederacy had been 
 formed to refill his ambition ? 
 
 Pboc. I faw no wifdom in accelerating the downfall of my 
 country, by a rafh activity in provoking the refentment of an 
 enemy, whofe arms, I foretold, would in the. iflue prove fu- 
 perior, not only to ours, but to thofe of any confederacy we 
 were able to form. My maxim was, that a ftate, which can- 
 not make itfelf ftronger than any of its neighbours, fhould 
 live in friendmip with that power which is the ftrongeft. 
 But, the more apparent it was, that our ftrength was infe- 
 rior to that of Macedon, the more you laboured to induce us, 
 by all the vehemence of your oratory, to take fuch meafures 
 as tended to render Philip our enemy, and exafperate him 
 more againft us than any other nation. This I thought a 
 rafh conduct. It was not by orations that the dangerous wai 
 you had kindled could finally be determined : nor did your 
 triumphs over me in an aflembly of the people intimidate 
 any Macedonian in the field of Chseronea, or flop you your- 
 felf from flying out of that field. 
 
 Demoji. My flight from thence, I muft own, was ignomi- 
 nious to me ; but it affe&s not the queftion we are agitating 
 now, whether the counfels I gave to the people of Athens, a: 
 a ftatefman and a public minifter, were right or wrong. Wrier 
 firft I excited them to make war againft Philip, the vi6toriei ! 
 gained by Chabrias, in which you, Phocion, had a (hare.: 
 particularly that of Naxos, which completely reflored to ui 
 the empire of the fea, had enabled us to maintain, not onlj 
 our own liberty, but that of all Greece, in the defence ol 
 which we had formerly acquired fo much glory, and which 
 our anceftors thought fo important to the fafety and indepen-, 
 dence of Athens. Philip's power was but beginning, ant 
 fupported itfelf more by craft than force. I faw, and '.. 
 warned my countrymen, in due time, how impolitic it woulc 
 be to fuffer his machinations to be carried on with fuccefsi 
 and his ftrength toincreafe by continual acquifuions, withou 
 refiftance. I expofed the weaknefs of that narrow, tha 
 fhort-iighted policy, which looked no further than to ou. 
 own immediate borders, and imagined, that whatfover lay ou 
 of thofe bounds was foreign to our interefts, and unworthy o 
 our care. The force of my remonftrances rouzed the Athe 
 nians to a more vigilant conduct. Then it was, that th 
 orators whom Philip had corrupted loudly inveighed again! 
 me, as alarming the people with imaginary dangers, and draw 
 ing them into quarrels, in which they had really no concert 
 This language, and the fair profeflions of Philip, who was pei 
 
 fedl
 
 DIALOGUE XXXI. 40f 
 
 fedly fkilled in tb e royal art of difcmbling, were often fo pre- 
 valent, that many favourable opportunities of defeating his de- 
 ggns were unhappily loft. Yet fometimes, by the fpifit, with 
 wh.ch I animated the Athenians and other neighbouring ftates, 
 I ftopt the progrefs of his arms, and oppofed to him fuch ob- 
 Kacles, as coft him much time and much labour to remqve 
 You yourfelf Phocion, at the head of fleets and armies fent 
 againftrum by decrees which I had propofed, vanquished his 
 troops in Euboea, and faved/rom him Byfantium, with other 
 :itics of our allies on the coafts of the Hellefpom, from which 
 you drove him with fhame. 
 
 Pboc. The proper ufe of thofe advantages was to fecure a 
 peace to Athens which they inclined him to keep. His ambi- 
 tion was checked ; but his forces were not fo much diminifhed, 
 as to render it fafe to provoke him to further hoftilities. 
 
 > m C Uge nd P licy were indeed fo fu crior to 
 
 ri, > * * ua o u Pcror to 
 
 our s, that, notwithstanding his defeats, he was foon in a con- 
 
 wVh r ^t 6 '^ , grCat Plan f C0nc l ueft and ^minion, 
 Jgich he had formed lon g< before, 'and from which he neve? 
 
 lilted Thus, through indolence on our fide, and adivity 
 Ijnhis, things were brought to fuch a crifis, that I faw no 
 hopes of delivering all Greece from his yoke, but by confede- 
 Tatmg againft him the Athenians and fhe Theba.fs; which 
 league I effeded. Was it not'.better to fight for the indepen- 
 dence of our country in conjundion with Thebes than alone? 
 ^Would a battle loft m Bceotia be fo fatal to Athens, as one loft 
 in our own territory, and under our own wails ? 
 
 Pbo. You may remember, that, when you were eagerly 
 
 3 g Mfi J! rS T er l!' Idefired y u toconfider, not wlere 
 remould fight, but how we mould be conquerors: for if 
 
 11 forts of evils and 
 
 drift Did not you tell me, Demofthenes, when you began 
 tofpeakupon this fubjed, that you brought into the field of 
 Chasronea an army equal to' Philip's ? 
 
 \*J> I did, and believe that Phocion will not contradid 
 th " in number, it was, perhaps, much 
 
 ' and 
 
 G 
 
 Arlft -What then occafloned their defeat ? 
 emoj. The bad condud of their generals. 
 
 D d Arifi.
 
 4 02 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Anft. Why was the command not given to Phocion, whofir 
 abilities had been proved on fo many other occafions ? was it 
 offered to him, and did he refufe to accept it ? You are filent, 
 Demofthenes. I underftand your filence. You are unwilling 
 to tell me, that, having the power, by your influence over the 
 people, to confer the command on what Athenian you pleafed, 
 you were induced, by the fpirit of party, to lay afide a great 
 general, who had been always fuccefsful, who had the chief 
 confidence of your troops and of your allies, in order to give it 
 to men, zealous indeed for your meafures, and full of military 
 ardor, but of little capacity or experience in the conduct of a 
 war. You cannot plead, that, if Phocion had led your troops 
 againft Philip, there was any danger of his bafely betraying 
 his truft. Phocion could not be a traitor. You had feen him. 
 ierve the republic, and conquer for it in wars, the undertaking 
 of which he had ftrenuoufly oppofed, in wars with Philip. 
 How could you then be fo negligent of the fafety of your 
 country, as not to employ him in this, the moft dangerous of 
 all fhe ever had waged ? If Chares and Lyficles, the two ge- 
 nerals whochofe to conduct it, had commanded the Grecian 
 Forces at Marathon and Platsea, we fliould have loft thofe bat 
 ties. All the men whom you fent to fight the Macedonians 
 under fuch leaders, were victims to the animofity between yov 
 and Phocion, which made you deprive them of the neceflarj 
 benefit of his wife direction. This I think the word blemift 
 of your adminiftration. In other parts of your conduct I no: 
 only acquit, but greatly applaud and admire you. With th< 
 fagacity of a moft confummate ftatefman, you penetrated th< 
 deepeft defigns of Philip ; you faw all the dangers whicl 
 threatened Greece from that quarter, while they were yet at ;; 
 diftance; you exhorted your countrymen to make a timel 
 provision for their future fecurity; you fpread the alarn 
 through all the neighbouring ftates ; you combined the mol 
 powerful in a confederacy with Athens; you carried the wa 
 tut of Attica y which (let Phocion fay what he will) was fafe 
 than meeting it there ; you brought it, after all that had bee 
 done by the enemy to ftrengthen himfelf and weaken us, aftt, 
 the lofs of Amphipolis, Olynthus, and Potidaea, the outguarc 
 of Athens; you brought it, I fay, to the decifionofa batt! 
 with equal forces. When this could be effected, there was ev 
 dently nothing fo defperate in our circumftances, as to juftil 
 an inaction, which might probably make them worfe, bi 
 could not make them better. Phocion thinks that a flat 
 which cannot itfelf be the ftrongeft, mould live in friendfh 
 with that power which is the firongeft. But in my opinic
 
 DIALOGUE XXXI. 403 
 
 is no better rfian/fmV<fc. It is more advife- 
 abletoendeavour to fupply what is wanting in our own ftrength 
 by a conjunaion with others who are equally in danger. This 
 method of preventing the ruin of our country was tried by 
 Demofthenes. Nor yet did he negteft, by all praaicable 
 means, to augment, at the fame time, our internal refources. 
 1 have heard, that when he found the public treafureexhaufted, 
 fie repleniflied it, with very great peril tohirofelf, by bringing 
 into it money appropriated before to the entertainment of the 
 people, agamft theexprefs prohibition of a popular law, which 
 made it death to propofe the application thereof to any other 
 ufe. This was virtue, this waa true and genuine patrMfm. 
 He owed all his importance and power in the ftate to the fa-} 
 vour of the people - yet, in order to ferve the ftate, he did not 
 fear, at the ev.dent hazard of his life, to offend their darling 
 prtfion, and appeal again ft it to their reafon. 
 
 Pit". For this adion I praife him. It was indeed far more, 
 dangerous for a minifter at Athens to violate that abfurd and 
 extravagant law than any of thofeof Solon. But, though he 
 reftoredour finances, he could not reftore our loft virtue ; he 
 could not give that firm health, that vigour to the ftate, which 
 * the refult of pure morals, of ftrid order and civil discipline, 
 rf integrity in the old, and obedience in the young. I there- 
 we dreaded a conflia with the fblid ftrength of Macedon, 
 vhere corruption had yet made but a very fmall progrefs, and 
 vas happy that Demofthenes did not oblige me, againft' my 
 wn inclination, to be the general of fuch a people in fuch war. 
 \Arift. I fear that your juft contempt of the greater number 
 Fthofe who compofed the democracy, fo difgufted you with 
 us mode and form of government, that yotP were as averfe 
 D ferve under it, as others, with lefs ability and virtue than 
 ou, were defirous of obtruding themfelves into its fervice. 
 >ut, though fuch a reluctance proceeds from a very noble 
 iufe, and feems agreeable to the dignity of a great mind in 
 id tunes, yet k is a fault againft the higheft of moral obiiga- 
 ons, the love of our country. For, how unworthy foever 
 dividuals may be, the public is always refpeaable,' always 
 ;ar to the virtuous. 
 
 Phot. True : but no obligation can lie upon acitizen tofeek 
 public charge, when he forefees that his obtaining of it will 
 j: ufelefs to his country. Would you have had rne folicit the 
 mmand of an army which I believed would be beaten ? 
 Arijl. It is not permitted to a ftate to defpair of its fafety, 
 1 ks utmoft efforts have been made without fuccefs If von 
 D d a
 
 404 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 had commanded the army at Chaeronea, yon might poflibly 1 
 have changed the event of the day : but, if you had not, you 
 would have died more honourably there, than in a prifon at 
 Athens, betrayed by a vain confidence in the infecure friend- 
 fliip of a perfidious Macedonian. 
 
 DIALOGUE XXXII. 
 
 MARCUS AURELIUS PHILOSOPHUS. SERVIUS TULLIUS. 
 
 Servius. "\7"ES, Marcus, though I own you to have been the 
 J_ firft of mankind in virtue and goodnefs, though,! 
 while you governed, philofophy fat on the throne and diffufed 
 the benign influences of her adminiftration over the whole 
 Roman empire, yet, as a king, I might, perhaps, pretenc 
 to a merit even fuperior to your's. 
 
 Marcus. That philofophy you afcribe to me has taught md 
 to feel my own defects, and to venerate the virtues of othei 
 men. Tell me, therefore, in what confifted the fuperiority o 
 your merit as a king. 
 
 Servius. It confifted in this, that I gave my people freedom 
 I diminished, I limited the kingly power, when it was place! 
 in my hands. I need not tell you, that the plan of govern 
 raent inftituted by me was adopted by the Romans, whel 
 they had driven out Tarquin, the deftroyer of their liberty* 
 and gave its form to that republic, compofed of a due mi)i 
 ture of the regal, ariftocratical, and democratical powers, th 
 ilrength and wifdom of which fubdued the world. Thus ajf . 
 the glory of that great people, who for many ages excelled ti- 
 red of mankind in the arts of war and of policy, belongs of 1 ? 
 ginally to me. 
 
 Marcus. There is much truth in what you fay. But woii 
 not the Romans have done better, if, after the expulfion p 
 Tarquin, they had veiled the regal power in a limited monar^ 
 inftead of placing it in two annual elective magiftrates, w : t 
 the title of confuls ? This was a great deviation from your 
 of government, and, I think, an unwife one. For a 
 royalty is a folecifm, an abfurdity in politics. Nor xvas'M 
 regal power, committed to the adminiftration of confuls, c<- 
 tinued in their hands long enough to enable them to fin* 
 any difficult war, or other ad of great moment. Fromheie 
 arofe a neceflity of prolonging their commands beyond thej- 
 gal term; of ihortening the interval prefcribed by the 1: s 
 
 l.-ctwn
 
 DIALOGUE XXXII. 405 
 
 between the de<5tions to thofe offices ; and of granting extra- 
 ordinary commiffions and powers, by all which the republic 
 was in the end deftroyed. 
 
 Servius. The Revolution which enfued upon the death of 
 Lucretia was made with fomuch anger, that it is no wonder 
 the Romans abolilhed in their fury the name of king, and 
 defired to weaken a power, the exercifeof which had been fo 
 grievous ; though the doing this was attended with aU the in- 
 , tonveniencies you have juftly obferved. But, if anger a&ed 
 too violently in reforming abufes, philofcphy might have 
 wifely corrected that error. Marcus Aurelius might have 
 ne \v-modeled the contlitution of Rome. He might have 
 , made it a limited monarchy, leaving to the emperors all the pow- 
 er that was neceflary to govern a wide-extended empire, and 
 ji to the fenate and people all the liberty that could be confifteat 
 e with order and obedience to government ; a liberty purged of 
 j. fadion and guarded againft anarchy. 
 
 ' " Marcus. I fhould have been happy indeed, if it had been in 
 g, my power to do fuch good to my country. But the gods 
 ,. themfelves cannot force their bleifings on men, who by their 
 i\ vices are become incapable to receive them. Liberty, like 
 power, is only good for thofe whopoflefs it, when it is under 
 ,, the conftant direction of virtue. No laws can have force 
 K j enough to hinder it from degenerating into faction and anar- 
 j chy, where the morals of a nation are depraved; and contt- 
 nued habits of vice vyill eradicate the very love of it out of the 
 ; hearts of a people. A Marcus Brutus, in my time, could not 
 i r have drawn to his ftandard a fingle legion of Romans. But 
 t , further, it is certain that the fpirit of liberty is abfolutely in- 
 . compatible with the fpirit of conquejl, To keep great conquer- 
 . ed nations in fubje&ion and obedience, great /landing armies 
 j are neceflary. The generals of thofe armies will not long re- 
 main fubje&s ; and whoever acquires dominion by the fword, 
 jjitiuf! rule by the fword. If he does not dcfiroy liberty, liber- 
 ,}ty will deftroy him. 
 
 i Servius. Do you then juftify Auguftus for the change he 
 ^naade in the Roman government ? 
 
 Marcus. I do not for Auguftus had no lawful authority to 
 
 ,raake that change. His power was ufurpation and breach of 
 
 trull. But the government, which he feiz.ed with a violent 
 
 hand, came to me by a lawful and eftablijbed rule of fiiccclfi- 
 
 : .on. 
 
 , Servius. Can any length of eftablifbrrient make defpotifrn 
 , lawful? is not liberty an inherent, inalienable right of man- 
 ' .kind ? 
 
 D d 3 Marcus
 
 406 DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Marcut. They have an inherent right to be governed by 
 laws, not by arbitrary will. But forms of government may, 
 and muft, be occafionally changed, with the confent of the 
 people. When I reigned over them the Romans were go- 
 verned by laws. 
 
 Servius. Yes, becaufe your moderation, and the precepts of 
 that philofophy in which your youth had been tutored, inclin- 
 ed you to make the laws the rules of your government and the 
 bounds of your power. But, if you had defired to govern 
 otherwife, had they power to reftrain you ? 
 
 Marcus. They had not. The imperial authority in my time 
 had no limitations. 
 
 Servius. Rome, therefore, was in reality as much enflaved 
 under you as under your fon ; and you left him the power of 
 tyrannizing over it by hereditary right. 
 
 Marcus. I did and the conclusion of that tyrant was his 
 murder. 
 
 Ser-uius. Unhappy father ! unhappy king ! what a detefta- 
 ble thing is abfolute monarchy, when even the virtues of 
 Marcus Aurelius could not hinder it from being deftru&ive to 
 his family, and pernicious to his country, any longer than the 
 period of his own life. But how happy is that kingdom, in 
 which a limited monarch prefides over a ftatefoju/llypoifed, 
 that it guards itfeif from fuch evils, and has no need to take 
 refug in arbitrary power againft the dangers of anarchy^ 
 which is almoft as bad a refource, as it would be for a fhip tc 
 run itfeif on a rock, in order to efcape from the agitation a 
 a tempeft ! 
 
 FO
 
 FOUR 
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 I N 
 
 PARLIAMENT. 
 
 1 Printed from Manufcripts of the late Lord LYTTELT ON, 
 communicated by WILLIAM HENRY LYTTELTON, Efq.
 
 [ 409 I 
 Mr. LYTTELTON'S Speech upon the Scotch Bill, Anno 1747* 
 
 Mr. SPEAKER, 
 
 IF it could ever be probable that any bill of great national 
 confequence,efpeciallyone, in which not only the national 
 intereft, but many particular interefts are alfo concerned, 
 ihould pafs through the houfe without a debate, I mould have 
 thought this would have done fo ; becaufe none was ever more 
 univerfally called for by the voice of the nation, none has 
 ever undergone a longer and deeper confideration, before it 
 came into the houfe, or been confidered by abler men, or 
 "with a more attentive and candid regard to any material ob- 
 jections. However, Sir, notwithftanding thefe circumftances, 
 I did expeft that in the committee /ome difference of opinion 
 would happen about particular parts of it, and indeed I ra- 
 ther wiflied that there might, becaufe an affair of fo ferious 
 a nature cannot be too carefully and ftricUy examined ; and 
 becaufe, if there are any faults in the bill, I fincerely defire 
 they may be mended ; but, Sir, I did not expect, I am ex- 
 treamly furprized, that it mould be oppofed upon the Prin- 
 ciple ; that it mould be oppofed as a breach of the Union ; and 
 my concern is equal to my furprize. Next to the breaking 
 the Union, I hardly know a greater misfortune that can befall 
 the united kingdom, than to have it fuggefted that it is broke, 
 and to have that fuggeflion prevail in the minds of the peo- 
 ple of Scotland. It is a fuggeftion in which the enemies of 
 Scotland and England will find their account, the friends can- 
 not ; and, as I think it intirely groundlefs, I do mofl heartily 
 grieve and lament, that it has ever received any countenance 
 here. God be thanked, they who are at the head of the law 
 in Scotland have other notions upon this matter. 
 
 In the return made by the court of feflion to the houfe of 
 lords concerning the heretable jurifdi&ions, this is the manner 
 in which they exprefs their fenfe upon that point : " Thefe 
 jurifdi&ions, by the treaty of Union, are fecured to the pro- 
 prietors as rights of property, and therefore cannot, w/'//?</t// due 
 fatisfaflion made to the owners, be taken from them." If there- 
 fore due fatisfa&ion be made to the owners, it is the opinion 
 of the lords of the feflion, that thefe jurifdittions may be 
 taken away, without any infringement of the treaty of Union ; 
 and that is the principle upon which this bill intirely pro- 
 ceeds: no jurifdictions are taken away by it, without due 
 
 fatisfation
 
 4 io SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 fatisfa&ion made to the owners ; where then is the wrong ? 
 where is the violation of the pafla. conventa between the two 
 nations ? Siiv^have considered the treaty of Union with all 
 the attention and care that I poflibly could, ftartled by the : 
 objections made by fome perfons, for whofe judgment and 
 love to their country, I have the higheft regard and refpeQ: : 
 but I proteft, that, after the ftric~teft examination, there does 
 not remain in my mind the leaft apprehenfion, or fhadow of 
 doubt, that it can be infringed by our pafling this bill. The 
 eighteenth and twentieth articles are all that relate to the mat- 
 ter before you ; by the eighteenth adiftin&ion is made between 
 the laws that concern public right, policy, and civil govern- 
 ment, and thofe that concern private rights : the firft are 
 declared to be alterable by parliament, the latter not, except 
 it be for the evident utility of the people of Scotland. Now, 
 Sir, not to infifton any difference between the laws that con- 
 cern private rights and public rights, but allowing this article 
 extends alike to the fecuring of both from being altered by 
 parliament; yet ftill the exception contained in the fame 
 article, " that it may be done for the evident utility of the 
 fubjeb in Scotland," is fully fufficient, according to my un- 
 Iderftanding, to vindicate this alteration from being an infringe- 
 ment of the treaty of union. Nor can any diftin&ion be 
 made between this fort of property, and any other exifting 
 in Scotland, but that the public is more affected by this, than 
 by any other. As to the twentieth article, the intention and 
 purport of it appears to me to be plainly this, ' that whereas 
 thefe jurifdi&ions and fuperiorities are of a mixed nature, 
 and might well be fuppofed to concern policy and civil govern- 
 ment, and fo to be alterable by parliament, even without 
 compenfation made to the owners, they were declared by this 
 article to be rights of property, in order to put them upon the 
 fame foot with other private rights ; and to fecure an equi- 
 valent to the proprietors, in cafe they mould be afterwards 
 taken away by the wifdom of parliament ; a cafe that was 
 eafy to be forefeen, becaufe the inconvenience and evil arifing 
 from thefe jurifdiftions, had been pointed out more than once, 
 even by parliament, before the Union ; and becaufe till this 
 is done, I will venture to fay, the fcheme of the Union, in all 
 the beneficial purpofes of it, will not be intirely and fully 
 compleated. In the very words of this article a power of 
 making this alteration is clearly implied. The beretable jurif- 
 diftions and Superiorities are there rejerved to the owners thereof, 
 at rights of property ; but, in what manner? Why, in the 
 
 fame
 
 SCOTCH BILL, 1747. 4 n 
 
 fame manner as they were then enjoyed by the laws of Scotland. 
 Now, Sir, by the laws of Scotland, could not the Scotch par- 
 liament, before the Union, have altered this property, as well 
 as all other property, upon due compenfation made to the 
 owners, for the good of the public ? They certainly could; 
 and therefore fubje& to the fame power of alteration, by par- 
 liament, they are declared to be now held and enjoyed. If 
 the treaty of Union had eftablifhed a property that could not 
 be fubje& to fuch alteration upon fuch grounds, it muft at 
 the fame time have eftablifhed a maxim fundamentally con- 
 trary to the firft principle of all civil fociety, and intirelyde- 
 ftrudive to it; this moft prepofterous maxim, that the good of 
 the public ought to give way to private advantage. But fuch 
 an abfurdity cannot be charged upon the legiflators of two 
 fuch wife nations as England and Scotland. Indeed, Sir, in 
 no ftate upon the face of the earth, ever was there a property, 
 or ever can there be any, which may not be altered or taken 
 away, upon proper amends made to the proprietors, for rhe 
 good of the whole. Even the property of our kings them- 
 felves has not been exempt from this general rule. The ward- 
 Ihip of thofe who held of the crown, that is, of all the no- 
 bility and gentry of England, was a property fixed in our 
 kings, even from the timeof William the Conqueror ; it was 
 an hereditary, lucrative right of the crown ; and yet for the 
 good of the people, becaufe it was thought to be hurtful to 
 them, the parliament took it away upon an equivalent paid 
 to the crown. Did any man ever fuppofe that this acl of 
 parliament was an injuftice, or any breach of the original corn- 
 pad between the king and the people, a compact as binding 
 and inviolable as thepafiaconventa, of the Union itfelf ? Was 
 it ever confidered, I fay, as a violation of that, or as any af- 
 front to the royal dignity ? No, it was never fo thought of by 
 the moft zealous affertor of the rights of the crown. What ! 
 then, is the property of the barons of Scotland of a more 
 facred nature, or is their honour more tender, than that of the 
 king ? Give me leave to obferve to you, that this right of ward- 
 fhip was taken away in the very firft year of king Charles 
 the Second's government, before he had made any ill ufe of 
 thofe powers: but, as the powers themfelves were judged to 
 be hurtful, it was not confidered in whofe hands they were 
 lodged, nor what ufe was made of them at that particular time. 
 The wifdom of parliament looked to futurity, and thought 
 it expedient to buy off, and to abrogate this ancient, un- 
 doubted, hereditary right of the crown, not from any com- 
 plaint of a prefent abufe of it, but becaufe it had been abufed 

 
 4i'2 SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 in former times, and might be again. Sir, it is faid thefe jurif- 
 di<5tions were not any caufe of the late rebellion in Scotland, 
 for that the proprietors of them were all firm and loyal on 
 the fide of the government: that is a fa& which I believe 
 may be controverted ; but I will notdifpute it, becaufe, if it 
 be not univerfally true, it is certainly fo with regard to the 
 far greater part ; the far greater part were, without queftion, 
 firmly and zealoufly attached to the government, and I think 
 they deferve the higheft returns of honour and gratitude from 
 their king and their country. No man can deleft more than i 
 I do the falfe, feditious, and fcandalous libels, breathed from 
 the malignant fpirit of Jacobitifm, under the mafk of zeal for 
 the government, which have imputed to them, or to the Scotch 
 nation in general, any difloyalty or difaffe&ion. Certain I 
 am, that nothing can be further from the true intent and- 
 meaning of this bill, than to throw any colour of blame ort 
 their conduct. It is a bill of prevention, and not of punim-i 
 ment ; a bill of general policy, that does not aim at particu- 
 lar perfons, but confiders the whole, confiders part times, and 
 future, as well as the prefent. Sir, if I am rightly informed, 
 in the year 1715, all thefe jurifdi&ions were not on the fide 
 of the government, the weight of many of them was felt veryj 
 dangeroufly on the fide of rebellion ; I admit that, in general,) 
 it was otherwife now : but to argue from thence againft this! 
 bill, would be to reafon upon very fhort views. If there be! 
 in the nature of thefe jurifdi&ions, as I am ftrongly convinced 
 that there are, any fuch powers as are inconfiftent with the! 
 good order of government, inconfiftent with thatfound policy: 
 which carries the majefty and juftice of the crown into every 
 part of the ftate, and prefents to the eye of the fubject no: 
 other object for his obedience, no other executive power, noi 
 other fountain of juftice, except the king ; if there be any! 
 thing in thefe regalities, fuperiorities, and jurifdi&ions, or in 
 the authority ufurped and exercifed in imitation of thefe by 
 the chiefs of the clans, which contradicts this great principle 
 of that conftitution under which we are fo happy to live, 
 which in any degree interpofes itfelf between the crown and; 
 the people, between the head of the commonwealth and the 
 members, however the influence of fuch irregular powers may 
 have been ufed on the prefent occafion, there is in the powenj 
 themfelves a root of danger, which it becomes the prudenctj 
 and forefight of a wife legiflature not to allow to remain : Sir 
 it fhould be plucked up, not with a violent hand, but with; 
 a firm and a determined one. Of this I am fure, that it ij 
 
 mor<
 
 SCOTCH BILL, 1747. 413 
 
 more for the honour of government, more for the welfare and 
 fafety of the people, to fee effects in their caufes, and to 
 deftroy the feeds of future commotions, than to wait til! they 
 come to that fatal maturity, which at the fame time that it 
 renders the evil more plain and apparent, may wholly difable 
 you from effecting the cure. I remember a fine panegyric 
 made by my lord Bacon, upon the laws of Henry the Seventh. 
 " His laws (fays he) were deep and not vulgar, not made 
 upon the fpur of a prefent expediency, but with providence 
 for the future." All thefe admirable words may with great 
 juftice and truth be applied to the bill, now under your con- 
 federation. It is a law that is deep and not vulgar: it is not 
 made upon the meer fpur of a prefent expediency, on ac- 
 count of the late rebellion alone, or for the purpofes of this 
 prefent year, but with providence for the future. I may allb 
 add, as my lord Bacon does, after the example of ancient times, 
 It was the policy of king Henry the Seventh, one of the 
 ableft princes that ever fat on the Englifh throne, to break 
 the power of the barons, and free the people from the yoke 
 of it as much as he poflibly could : to the confequential effects 
 of that policy rightly purfued by his fucceflbrs, upon the foun- 
 dations which he had laid, is owing the trade, the wealth, 
 and the liberty that the Englifh nation enjoys at this day. 
 Sir, I have heard with no little wonder an imagination thrown 
 out by fome honourable gentleman zealous for liberty, as if the 
 purchafing thefe jurifdi&ions and fuperiorities out of the hands 
 of the prefent pofleflbrs, and the relloring them back again 
 to the crown, would be detrimental to public freedom. Sir, 
 I have thought, and read, a good deal upon the nature of go- 
 vernment ; and, from the refult of that application, I think 
 I may venture to lay it down as a maxim, that in every king- 
 dom, where any great powers, efpecially of judicature, are 
 , lodged in particular fubje&s, independently of the crown, it 
 : is for the good of the people that they mould be taken out of 
 thofe hands and lodged in the crown. The conteft in that 
 cafe is not, as thefe honourable perfons feem to apprehend, 
 : between the crown on the one fide, and the people on the 
 1 other, but between the crown and the people united together 
 in one common caufe againft the intereft of thofe, in whom 
 fuch powers are vefted, which is an intereft diftinl from both, 
 and hurtful to both: in other words, it is not a difpute be- 
 i tween liberty and prerogative, but between oppreffion and go- 
 i vernment. This is fo true, that in no one of the many Gothic 
 conftitutions eftablifhed in Europe, did ever the people attain 
 
 to
 
 414 SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 to any considerable fhare, either of wealth, or power, or free- 
 dom, till they were emancipated from fuch jurifdi&ions, and 
 till all the powers of the great feudal lords, thofe petty tyrants, 
 too potent for fubje&s, too weak for fovereigns ; who were 
 ftrong enough to opprels, but not ftrong enough to protect ; 
 till all their powers were entirely abforbed in the more be- 
 neficial and falutary power of the crown. Indeed, Sir, in 
 every limited monarchy, that is, in a free government which 
 has a king at the head of it, the power of the crown, when 
 a&ing properly within its due bounds, reftrained and confined 
 by law and by parliament, is the power of the whole com- 
 monwealth. It is not an imereft fet up in the king in contra- 
 diftin&ion to that of his people ; no, the power of the crown 
 is only a name for the executive part of the government ; it 
 is the vigour and energy of the whole ftate that acts in thefe 
 cafes, though, in the ftyleand language of the law, it be called 
 thea&of the crown. This is particularly true in matters of 
 judicature, and the adminiftration of juftice: That is a power, 
 which it is fo much the intereft of the whole commonwealth 
 to place in the crown, that when a king diverts himfelf of 
 it, or gives up any part of it, he fo far withdraws the pro- 
 tection he owes to his fubje&, and loofens the bond of their 
 allegiance. Will you not hear my caufe ? {faid a fuitor for 
 juftice to Philip of Macedon) why then you are not my king, 
 Philip allowed the force of his reafoning, and confirmed him 
 his fubje6b by hearing his caufe. If he had referred him to 
 a great lore!, to an hereditary judge, the man would have taken 
 that lord for his king. It is in the difpenfing of juftice, in 
 the protecting of right, and redreulng of wrongs, that the 
 royal authority beft appears to the fubje&. It is in that 
 view of it, that it excites his veneration and love ; and when 
 any part of the people do not fee their fovereign in that awful 
 character, they are apt to forget him and turn their eyes an-: 
 other way. Therefore the wifdom of our conftitution has 
 made all jurifdi&ion immediately flow from the crown : Sir,. 
 extend that wifdom to Scotland ; let none be exercifed in the 
 moft diftant corner of thefe regal dominions, at leaft in mat-; 
 ters of any important regard and concernment, and where; 
 unfurmountable difficulties do not prevent an alteration; let 
 no jurifcliclion, I fay, be exercifed, otherwife than in the name 
 of the king, and by virtue of his commiffion alone. This isi 
 an eternal maxim of policy : it is not taken up from any 
 fudden heat or refentment, but upon cool and mature delibe- 
 ration. I hope it will not be laid down, becaufe of any fudden 
 
 heat
 
 SCOTCH BILL, 1747. 415 
 
 heat or Tefentment arifing againft it, without a jirft or reafon- 
 able caufe. Such refentment cannot be lafting : time and ex- 
 perience will overcome it ; but the great benefits, that will arife 
 from this bill, if it fhall pafs into a law, the good influence 
 that it will have over the whole Briiifhftate, will laft, I hope, 
 to the lateft pofterity. Can there be any thing more advan- 
 tageous to the fubje& in Scotland, can there be a better or 
 happier fruit of the Union, than an entire communication of 
 the generous, free, and noble plan of the law of England, in 
 the room of thofe fervile tenures and cuftoms, which deform 
 the fyftem of government there ; and, by the effects that 
 they have over that part of the people which is kaft civilized 
 and moil prone to diforder, difturb the peace, and endanger 
 the fafety of the whole conftitution ? When this is done, when 
 thefe thorns are once rooted up, the way will be open to many 
 other improvements, to the introduction of arts, of manu- 
 factures, of induftry, of all the virtues and fweets of civil life, 
 even in the wildeft parts of that country. But all thefe blel- 
 fings muft-be the gifts of good government : before you can 
 hope to make thofe people good fubjets or ufeful to you in 
 any refpeft, you muft firft mew them whofe fubjeb they 
 are ; before they can be mended by the inftru&ions of govern- 
 ment, they muft be protected by the power and care of it ; au- 
 thority and juflice muft take the lead in this great work of re- 
 Formation ; difcipline, peace, and civility, will follow after. 
 
 Sir, the matter before you is of fo very extenfive a nature, 
 it might be fhewntoyou in fo many lights of general policy, 
 fo many authorities might be alledged in fupport of it, out of 
 all hiftories, ancient and modern, and from the beft and moft 
 famous writers upon the laws of nature and nations, that I 
 fliould weary your patience, which has already indulged me 
 too long, if I were to fay half that occurs to me upon this 
 fubjeft. I have purpofely avoided the considering any ob- 
 jections made to particular parts of the bill ; that will be bet- 
 ter done in the committee ; it is not proper to do it here. I 
 hope that it will not be neeeffary to fay any thing more, in or- 
 der to (hew what this bill is not ; that it is not a breach of the 
 Union, that it is not an aQ: of injuftice, that it is not an in- 
 flidionof penalties on the innocent and well-deferving. Al- 
 low me juft to fum up, in a very few words, what I think 
 : that it is. It is a bill to fecure and perfect the Union; to 
 ; carry the juftice of the king into every part of the united 
 1 kingdom, and, together with that royal juftice, a more fettled 
 peace, a more regular order, a furer protection, a clofer and 
 
 ftrcnger
 
 416 SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 flronger bond of allegiance ; to put an end to all thofe depen- , 
 dencses that combine men together, not as the fubjeds of the 
 fame king, or fellow-citizens of the fame ftate, but as the j 
 followers of particular lords, and which create an awe, and an < 
 influence, alike incompatible either with liberty or govern- 
 ment : this, I apprehend, will be done by this bill ; and when 
 you do this, you do at the fame time by a neceflary confequence 
 ftrengthen the whole conftitution, ftrengthen the crown on his 
 majefty's head, ftrengthen the eftablifhment in his royal fa- 
 mily, and make the caufe of the pretender more defperate. 
 For this is moft certain, that all irregularities and diforders in 
 government, all deviations from the rule of true policy, and 
 from the true genius of the conftitution, naturally tend to di-j 
 fturbances, naturally tend to a change of the government^} 
 and will fooner or later produce or aflilt one, if they are not! 
 prevented by timely precaution. 
 
 This is the object, this is the fole intent of a bill, againft ( 
 which fuch unfortunate, and let me fay Inch unreafonable, 
 prejudices have been conceived. I cannot better commend the 
 policy of it, than in the words of a great lawyer, and a great 
 ftatefman, Sir John Davies, in his excellent book upon the 
 State of the Kingdom of Ireland, a book that has been lately 
 reprinted, and well deferves to be read and confidei ed by everyj 
 gentleman here upon this occafion ; his words are thefejj 
 " '/here can never be concord or unity in any one kingdom J 
 but where there is but one king, one allegiance, and one law.' 1 -, 
 
 Speech on the MUTINY Bill, and more particularly on th<j 
 Claufe concerning Half- Pay Officers, Anno Domini 1751. 
 
 Mr. SPEAKER, 
 
 THIS bill has been confidered, and I am glad that it hast 
 with all the attention, that a houfe of parliament ough 1 
 to give to fo important a fubjeft. Some material alteration; 
 have been made in it, material at leaft to prevent mifconftrue 
 tions; and I fee with concern how neceflary that caution i 
 now become. Mifconftru&ions, Mr. Speaker, and mifreprej 
 fentations, are epidemical in this country. What the confei 
 quenceof them might be to our future tranquillity I fhoul! 
 tremble to think, if I did not rely on a maxim, which I hoi; 
 equally certain in public or private life, that truth is grea>, 
 and will prevail. 
 
 Bu
 
 MUTINY BILL, 1751. 4 , 7 
 
 But, Sir, after fo much has been done in the committee Ui 
 mend this bill, I mould not have expected a debate on the re- 
 port two days together, efpecially upon a point fo thoroughly 
 canvafledas the half- pay has been, and which apparently lies iri 
 a very narrow compa!s ! But there is fo fruitful a genius in the 
 honourable gentlemen on the other fide of the houfe, that no- 
 thing can exhauft it ; not to mention another quality in fome 
 of thofe gentlemen, which is of no lefs ufe to the purpofe of 
 prolonging debates, acertain happy forgetfulnefs of what has 
 been faid in anfwer to arguments maintained by them, and a 
 delightful inward convi&ion, which I very much envy, that 
 whatever they fay is (to ufe the exprefiion of a noble lord on 
 the floor) undeniable irreftftible truth, and that all who differ 
 from them are Junk inajtupid injenjlbility, out of which it 13 
 neceffary to draw them, if pofllble, by frequent repetitions. 
 
 One obfervation has ftruck me through the whole courfe 
 of thefe debates, that the more candour has been (hewn in 
 amending the bill, the more unexceptionable it has been made 
 the higher the fpirit of oppofition again ft it has feemed to 
 rife. What one mould naturally infer from thence; how 
 Far fuch a conduct can be fuppofed to proceed from the ge^ 
 nuine fpirit of liberty, clear of all other motives lefs refpeft- 
 able and lefs pure, the houfe will judge : I (hall only fay, 
 that, I believe, an oppofition fo carried on cannot have any 
 great weight, either within the walls, or without. 
 
 The great point, which has been the fubjecl of fo much 
 -ager altercation, this terrible claufe, about which fuch alarms 
 lave been given ; alarms that have fpread from the army to 
 :he navy, as if it threatened no lefs than the enflaving of 
 3oth ; is in truth no more than faying, that an officer is an 
 officer, and not a meer civil man ; that he who receives the 
 sing's pay cannot be fuppofed to be out of his fervice ; and 
 :hat he who is in the king's fervice may be commanded to 
 ferve him when occafion requires, and cannot be wholly ex- 
 empt from that military difcipline, which the neceflity of the 
 fervice demands. Thefe are all the propofitions contained in 
 :his claufe ; and which of thefe can be denied ? It is fuppof- 
 ng a government to be out of its fenfes, to fuppofe it could 
 ?ive half- pay to officers in the manner we give it, if you do 
 lot confider it as a retainer, and as an obligation to ferve : for 
 ,iad it been given purely and (imply as a jeward for part fer- 
 ,Mces, it would then have been given only to veterans, or 
 uch officers as had eminent merit to plead. Is this the cafe ? 
 >Ve know the contrary : we know it is given to nsany, who, 
 Ee in
 
 4l8 SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 in the meritorious fenfe of the word, have not fern* at a 
 Smuft be therefore confidered as an obligation to few, not 
 Exemption from fervid, in the general purpofe and viev. 
 with which it was given. But, if it be rot a total exempts 
 from fervice i then allow me to fay, there can be nothtoj 
 mTe abfurd, than to fuppofe there is a total exemption fr on 
 Lpline, where there is not a total exemption from ferwe 
 
 Indeed, Sir, there are fome parts of military difciplme, fron 
 which an officer, when in half-pay, will be : exempt, not b- 
 any difcharge from the fervice, but by his fituation. ThJ 
 cannot hav* the fame operation upon one living retired at h 
 own houfe in the country, as upon one doing duty in a camp 
 or a gsrrifon ; nor would they have it any more, though h 
 were in full pay, fo long as he remainecl in that retreat : bul, 
 fo far as discipline can operate upon him in fuch a fituatior, 
 1? certainly does ; becaufe he is an officer, Jecaufe he flill re 
 tains his cUmiffion, by which he ****&**$ 
 cipline, and not only receives the wages of the governmen 
 not only retains the rank he had, but may be jpromotec rot 
 the degree of a colonel to that of a field-mar (hal. While H 
 has all thefe emoluments derived from the fervice, is it nc 
 reafonable, is it not fitting, that he mould be bound by 
 laws? where is the hardfhip of this,where is the inj uftice, whei, 
 5s t'he fervitude ? It is to me unaccountable, that an orhcc 
 fcould complain of the lofs of freedom, of being reduced , 
 the condition of a Have and a janiffary ; becaufe, ' ^ile he n- 
 ceives but half-pay, he dill continues fubjea to the fame lav 
 aaing upon him in a much lefs degree ; to the fame law, 
 fay, which he is willing to live under, in its utmoft exten 
 when he is in full-pay. Is not this m effed to declare, th 
 the difference between freedom and (lavery may be made 
 and compenfatedtohim by the difference between full-p* 
 and half-pay ? But the officers of our army have more gen: 
 ?ous fentiment, Though this induaion be fair y and nee, 
 farily drawn from this way of talking, it is a confluence th.. 
 C not attend to when they fo talk If the military law 
 this country be fuch a tyranny, as fome honourable gent 
 men, in the hyperboles of their eloquence, and flame oi 
 zeal, againft this bill, have reprefented it here, no .man w 
 values his liberty would ever fubmit to it for the fake oi t 
 pay, anymore than of half-pay; no, not for a day, or* 
 hour. But, if it be really as confident with freedom, as I 
 nature of things can admit ; as confident with freedom, I 
 the military law of the freeft commonwealths has eve/ t 
 if it be fuch, that men of the higheft fpirit and noblefl min<|
 
 MUTINY BILL 175!. 4& 
 
 fuch as the officers of our army now are, need not be afraid 
 
 or afhamed, to live under it when in full pay ; how the fame 
 
 ' law mould make them flaves, merely becaufe they are reduc- 
 
 i ed to hair-pay, I do not comprehend. We may therefore 
 
 conclude, that half-pay or full-pay can create no diftinaion 
 
 ' in relat.on to difciphne, and to the obedience that an officer 
 
 indifpenfably owes to lawful commands. As to any vexatious 
 
 .injuries, or grievous commands, I do not underftand that an 
 
 Jfficer in half- pay is not as well guarded againft the danger of 
 
 'thole, as one n full-pay. It is the.conftant infpeaion and 
 
 fupenntendency of parliament over every branch of the ad- 
 
 .miniftration, that is the great guard and fecurity to every man 
 
 iin this kingdom agamft any grievous abufe of the execution 
 
 of power, either in civil or military affairs. If this fecurity 
 
 : tails, if we no longer truft to it, we are undone 
 
 All power may be abufed : but does it follow from thence- 
 that any neceffary power muft be taken away ? If that reafon- 
 mg holds, it is not. the perfecYion, but the d.flblution, of 
 igovernment ; it is not freedom, but anarchy, which muft be 
 the end of our debates. 
 
 Sir, permit me to fay, it is wifdom in a government not to 
 he itfelf down from the pccafional exercife of certain powers* 
 winch yet it will not defire, or think proper to ufe, except in 
 very extraordinary cafes, fuch as, probably, may never happen 
 lo long as the apprehenfion of thofe powers remains, but 
 taight become frequent, and dangerous to the ftate, if that 
 apprehenfion were removed. 
 
 Many imaginary eafes of a hard and unwarrantable ufe of 
 
 :,uch powers, very aflfeaing indeed, but very improbable, have 
 
 oeen fuggefted as arguments againft this bill; and they may 
 
 o very well to fill up a pamphlet, and inflame a coffee- 
 
 ife : but, in a houfe of parliament, among wife and confi- 
 lerate men, they can make no great impreftion ; becaufe, irt 
 reality, they prove nothing, or prove too much : for either 
 he army itfelf will not be in a temper to do and fuffer fuch 
 hings, or, unquestionably, any Jegal reftraints to prevent 
 ihem will be inefFeaual and vain. 
 
 Sir, I entirely agree with the honourable gentlemen ovef 
 he way in a maxim they have laid down, and infifted upon 
 much, through the whole courfe of thefe debates, that, if 
 ur army mould be under bad government, our civil confti'tu- 
 :ion would be in a very precarious and dangerous (late I think- 
 : would, and for that very reafon I am a friend to this bill- 
 
 1 1 cap by no means allow, either that officers in half-p'ay 
 E e a
 
 '4*> SPEECH UPON THE 
 
 are no part of the army, or that the army is under bad go- 
 vernment ; becaufe the law by which it is governed, and mnft 
 be governed, or ceafe to be an army, is not, contrary to the 
 nature and reafon of things, fo mild a law, or quite fo well 
 guarded, in every refpeft, againfl the danger of abufe, as oui 
 civil conftitution. It is fufficient if you bring it as near as 
 you can to the model of that, and take care (as you have done) 
 to prevent it from a&ing in oppofition to that, by declaring 
 the obedience, which it requires from thofe who are under its 
 authority, not to be due to any other than lawful commands, 
 Nor do I in the lead apprehend, that the fyftem of difciplim 
 eftablifhed in this bill mould frighten any one gentleman o 
 virtue and fpirit out of the fervice, when I confider who am 
 what the officers are, that have given their opinions in fup 
 port of it, during the time it has been fo deliberately and carei 
 fully difcuft in this houfe. I cannot ciefire a more fufficieni 
 fecurity againft: any fears of that kind, on which fo mucj 
 ftrefs has been laid by the honourable gentleman who begaj 
 this debate, and by the noble lord who fpoke laft. 
 
 As to any ministerial influence over the officers of our arrri 
 to be derived from this bill, though we have heard fo muci 
 talk of it upon this occafion, I proteft to you, Sir, I canmj 
 fee the leaft reafon, or colour of reafon, to fufpecl: any fuel 
 thing. Minifterial influence over the army can only ari| 
 from powers lodged in the crown, with which it is evideh 
 this bill has nothing to do, the power of promoting office^ 
 and the power of cafheering them at the pleafure of the kity 
 without any form of trial. The interpofition of a coir 
 martial, as regulated by this bill, is an impediment thro^ji 
 in the way of a minifter, who mould defire to make an \ 
 ufe of the latter of thefe powers; and muft therefore be r 
 garded*as a further fecurity given to the officers againft 
 fuch influence, fo far as the operation of this bill can extel. 
 Sir, thefe are the lights in which the queftion now bef 
 you appears to me, ftript of all thofe difguifes in which fit 
 apprehenfions have dreft it up ; falfe apprehenfions that h'C 
 unaccountably been carried fo far, as to fuppofe this moft fc- 
 ceffary bill, without which a Handing army could not be '?- 
 drained from deftroyingitfelf, or every thing elfe, calculfl 
 to ferve bad defigns (I know not what, nor of whom) agaft 
 the liberty of this country. Sir, permit me to fay, it i^y 
 relaxing difcipline, not by enforcing it, that thofe who rye 
 bad defigns to carry on by an army muft always prOcH- 
 When they defire to leap over the fences of law, they tp* 
 
 thw
 
 MUTINY BILL, 1751. 421 
 throw the reins loofe upon the horfe's neck, inftead of cheek- 
 ing or curbing him with a ftr:6ter hand. Liberty and dif- 
 cipline, liberty and government, are much neater allied, and 
 much more compatible the one with the other (whatever fome 
 may think) than liberty and licentioufnefs. Look in hiftory, 
 and you will find it ufuverfally true, that the freeft flates have 
 been flridleft in their military difcipline ; and the bed men in 
 thofe dates have always exacted it with the greateft feverity. 
 
 Good laws, fays Machiavel, muft be maintained by good 
 arms, and good arms by good difcipline.. It is a very jjuft 
 maxim, which no government mould forget. Late experi- 
 ence has fhewn us, that, if we had not had good arms and 
 good difcipline, our good laws would have been loft. A very 
 different fyftem of laws, both civil and military, would have 
 been didated to us by Highland legiJJators, and renegade) 
 Engliflimen, dreft in their liveries (a). ' It is to this army, it 
 is to this difcipline, of which fuch terrors are conceived, that 
 we owe our deliverance from flavery in its moft abjet and 
 loathfome form. Therefore, the maintaining this difcipline, 
 the not fuffering it to be relaxed and corrupted in time oj: 
 peace, is eflentially neceflary to the fafety of the whole con- 
 flitution ; and they who are friends to the pne, will be friends 
 "to the other. 
 
 The noble lord who fpoke laft has made mention of the 
 feacey and fuppofed the goodnefs of it to be an argument 
 againft the ntceffity of many parts of this bill. Sir, no man 
 rejoices more than I do in the peaceI think it has hutched 
 'us from the brink of a precipice, which was juft ready tq 
 fink under our feet. But, that it has freed us from all danger 
 I cannot flatter myfelf, I will not flatter any body elfe, fb 
 much as to fay. It has removed danger to fome diftance : 
 but there is ftill in our whole political ftate, with refpeft to 
 foreign powers, great caufe for apprehenfion. We muft 
 rot fall afleep under the made of this peace : if we do, that 
 deep may end in death. 
 
 In pace, ut fapiens* aptabit idonea bello is a very excellent 
 rule, to which our government has not always enough at- 
 tended. I hope we fhall not be negligent of it now, more 
 especially with regard to the difcipline of our army, which 
 muft be preferved in its vigour, if we defire that the army 
 {hould be able to ferye u? againft our foreign enemies, or 
 
 (a) This alludes to the fafhion, taken up at this time by alhhe 
 Jacobites in England, of wearing Scotch plaids for their waiftcoats, 
 as a party diftin&ion. 
 
 E e 3 wpu!4
 
 4 22 SPEECH ON THE REPEAL 
 
 would not have it become itfelf the moft dangerous enemy to 
 our domeftic peace and tranquillity. 
 
 {Speech on the Repeal of the ASt called the JEW Bill, in the 
 Year 1753. 
 
 Mr. SPEAKER, 
 
 I See no occafion to enter at prefent into the merits of the 
 bill v/e part thelaft feflion for the naturalization of Jews ; 
 becaufe I am convinced, that in the prefent temper of the 
 nation, not a Tingle foreign Jew will think it expedient to 
 take any benefit of that act ; and therefore, the repealing of 
 it is giving up nothing. I aiTented to it laft year in hopes 
 might induce fome wealthy Jews to come and fettle among 
 us : in that light { faw enough utility in it, to make me in- 
 cline rather to approve than diflike it ; but, that any man 
 alive could be zealous, either for or againft it, I confefs I had 
 no idea. What affects our religion, is indeed of the highefr, and 
 mo(* ferious importance. God forbid we fhould be ever in- 
 different about tbqt f but, 1 thought tbit had no more to do 
 with religion than any turnpike act we part in that feflion ; 
 and, after all the divinity that has been preached on the fub* 
 ieS, I think fo frill. 
 
 Refolution and fteadinefs are excellent qualities ; but, it 
 is the application of them upon which their value depends. 
 A wife government, Mr. Speaker, will know where to yield, 
 as well as where to refift : and, there is no furer mark of lit-* 
 tlenefs of mind in an adminiflration, than obftmacy in trifles. 
 Public wifdom on fome occafions mufl: condefcend to givef 
 way to popular folly, efpecially in a free country, where thc( 
 humour of the people muft be confidered as attentively, as 
 the humour of a king in an abfolute monarchy. Under both 
 forms of government a prudent and honed minirtry will in-l 
 dulge a f mall folly, and will refift a great one. Not to vouch-jj 
 fafe now and then a kind indulgence to the former, would 
 difcover an ignorance of human nature : not to refill the 
 latter a.t all times, would be meannefs and fervility. 
 
 Sir, I look on the bill we are at prefent debating, not as at 
 facrifice made to popularity (for it facrifices nothing ;) but ad 
 a prudent regard to fome conferences arifing from the na4 
 ture of the clamour raifed againfl the late a<5t for naturalizing!. 
 Jews, which feem to require a particular confederation.
 
 OF THE JEW BILL, 1753. 423 
 It has been hitherto the rare and envied felicity of his ma- 
 jefty's reign, that his fubjeds have enjoyed fuch a fettled 
 tranquillity, fuch a freedom from any angry religious dif- 
 putes, as is not to be paralleled in any former times. The 
 true Chriftian fpirit of moderation, of charity, of univerfaj 
 benevolence, has prevailed in the peopJe, has prevailed in 
 the clergy of all ranks and degrees, in (lead of thofe nar- 
 row principles, thofe bigoted prejudices, that furious, that 
 implacable, that ignorant zeal, which had often done fa 
 much hurt both to the church and the ftate. But from the ill- 
 .wnderftood, infignificant act of parliament you are now mov- 
 ing to repeal, occafion has been taken to deprive us of this in- 
 eftimable advantage. It is a pretence to difturb the peace of 
 the church, to infufe idle fears into the minds of the people, 
 and make religion itfelf an engine of fedition. It behoves 
 the piety, as well as the wifdpm of parliament, to difappoint 
 thofe endeavours. Sir, the very worft mifchief that can be 
 done to religion, is to pervert it to the purpofes of faction. 
 Heaven and hell are not more diftant than the benevolent fpi- 
 rit of the gofpel, and the malignant fpirit of party. The 
 moft impious wars ever made were thofe called holy wan. 
 He, who hates another man for not being a Chriftian, is him- 
 felf not a Cbrijlian. Chriftianity, Sir, breathes love, and 
 good -will to man. A temper conformable to the dilates of 
 that holy religion has lately diftinguilhed this nation ; and a 
 glorious diftin&ion it was ! But there is latent, at all times, 
 in the minds of the vulgar, a fpark of cnthufiafm ; which, if 
 blown by the breath of a party, may, even when it feems 
 quite extinguiftied, be fuddenly revived and raifed to a flame. 
 The at of laft feflion for naturalizing of Jews, has very un- 
 expectedly adminiftred fuel to feed that flame. To what a 
 height it may rife, if it mould continue much longer, one 
 cannot eafily tell; b.ut, take away the fuel, and it will die 
 of itfelf. 
 
 Something that fell from, my honourable friend who fpoke 
 laft, makes it proper for me to add one argument more in 
 order to ihevv the expediency of pafllng this bill. 
 
 It is the misfortune of all the Roman Catholic countries, 
 that there the church and the ftate, the civil power and the 
 hierarchy, have feparate inijerefts ; and are continually at va- 
 riance one with the other. It is our happinefs, that here 
 they form but one fyftem. While this harmony lafts, what- 
 ever hurts the church, hurts the ftate : whatever weakens the 
 of the governors of the church, tftkts av/ay from the 
 E G 4 civil
 
 424 SPEECH ON THE REPEAL, &c. 
 
 civil power a part of its ftrength, and fhakes the whole con-i 
 ititution. 
 
 Sir, I truft and believe, that, by fpeedily palling this bill,}] 
 -ue (hall filence that obloquy, which has fo unjuftly beencaftji 
 upon our reverend prelates (iome of the moft refpe6hble thatj 
 ever adorned our church), for the part they took in the a&! 
 which this repeals. And it greatly, imports the whole com-! 
 munity, that they fhould not lofe that refpeft, which is foi 
 juftly due to them, by a popular clamour kept up in oppofi- 
 tion to a meafure of no importance in itfelf. But if the de-f! 
 parting from that meafure fhould not remove the prejudice fo! 
 malicioufly raifed, I am certain that no further ftep you can! 
 take will be able to remove it ; and therefore, I hope youij 
 will flop here. This appears to be a reafonable and fare con-Id 
 defcenfion, by which nobody will be hurt ; but all beyoncj 
 this would be dangerous weaknefs in government. It might 
 open a door to the wildefl enthufiafm, and to the moft mif-i 
 chievous attacks of political difaffettion working upon thaii 
 enthufiafm. If you encourage and authorife it to fall on th< 
 fynagogue, it will go from thence to the meeting-houfe, am' 
 in the end to the palace. But let us be careful to check it! ; 
 further progrels. The more zealous we are to fupport ChrifH 
 tianity, the more vigilant fhould. we be in maintaining toleraki 
 tipn. If we bring back perfecution, we bring back the antib 
 chriftian fpirit of popery; and when the fpirit is here, thj ; 
 whole fyftem will foon follow. Toleration is the bafis op 
 all public quiet. It is' a character of freedom given to thj 
 mind, more valuable, I think, than that which fecures oul 
 perfons and eftates. Indeed* they are inseparably conneQei 
 together: for, where the mind is not free, where the corii 
 Icience is enthralled, there is no freedom. Spiritual tyrann' 
 puts on the galling chains ; but civil tyranny is called in, tf 
 rivet and fix them. We fee it in Spain, and many othe 
 countries ; we have formerly both feen and felt it in England 
 By the bleflings of God, we are now delivered from all kinf 
 of opprtfTion. Let us take care, that they may never retun 
 The bill before us, 1 am fure, is not perfecution. It onl< 
 puts every body in that fituation where every body was eafw 
 It is a gentle, a prudent, and a moderate meafure; tendint 
 to quiet and fettle the minds of men, which have been unhafi 
 pily difturbed, without any neceflity ; and therefore, I giVJ 
 it my mot> hearty concurrence. 
 
 N. B. The al for naturalizing Jews gave no greater privilcg 
 to anv J.-w (l-ttling here, than are at prefent enjoyed In' tl 
 fon of a Jew, torn in England; and much lefs than have beJ| 
 gjven to tlnm } jince the diJferJiQn, by many other nations. 
 
 Speed
 
 [ 425 I 
 
 Speech in the Houfe of Lords, concerning Privilege of Par- 
 liament, in the year 1 763. 
 
 " Refolved by the commons in parliament, that privilege 
 " of parliament does not extend to the cafe of writing 
 ** and publiihing feditious libels, nor ought to be allow.--. 
 < ed to obftru6fc the ordinary courfe of the laws in the 
 " fpeedy and effectual profecution of fo heinous and 
 ' dangerous an offence." 
 
 MY LORDS, 
 
 AFTER what has been faid, with fo much weight and 
 authority, by a noble and learned lord, who prefides in 
 ' ; the higheft court of judicature in this kingdom, with fuchdif- 
 i : tinguifhed abilities, it would be impertinent and vain for me, 
 li "in fpeaking upon this queftion, to argue from precedents or 
 s : ' conftru&ions of law, and to tell your lordfhips that public and 
 feditious libels are breaches of the peace, and much higher 
 breaches of it t in the eye of the law, than forcible entries or 
 > 'forcible detainers \ in which cafes the houfe of commons has 
 ;! -declared, by a refolution in the year 1697, that no member of 
 it i that boufe hath any privilege. Nor need I obferve to your 
 i.i Lordfhips, that the ftanding order of this houfe, made in the 
 ,ki 'year 1624, has not been and cannot poffibly be underftood 
 i by your lordfhips, as a compleat definition of all exceptions to 
 i ' privilege ; becaufe, fince the making of that order, and be- 
 ; fore the ftature by which forgery was declared to be felony, 
 t this houfe ordered Mr. John Ward to be profecuted for for- 
 gery, without any regard to his privilege, though they knew 
 j him to be a member of the lower houfe of parliament ; and 
 < becaufe a fubfequent (landing order, of the 8th of June, 1 757, 
 T. . fpecifies another exception, not exprefled in the former. 
 : i Both thefe inflances are decifive of the opinion of this houfe 
 on the queftion now before you, with regard to the law and 
 ; ufage of partiament : but I mail only beg leave to trouble 
 your lordfhips with a few obfervations on the confequences of 
 fuch an extenfive conftru&ion of privilege, as is contended 
 for by fome lords, from whom I am extremely forry to differ, 
 but from whom I muft differ on this occafion, or from all 
 , the notions I have formed of that conftitution, which I am 
 bound to maintain. 
 
 My
 
 426 SPEECH IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS, 
 
 My lords, all privileges are fubordinate to the great laws 
 of fociety, to the good order, the peace, and the fafety of the 
 :ftare. The noble duke who fpoke laft has told your lordfhips 
 very truly, that this, which is now .under your confideration, 
 was not given as a favour to the members of parliament, for 
 their own fakes ; but as a guard, which the conftitution has 
 fet over their perfons and necefiary attendance, for the fecu- 
 rity of that duty they owe to the public. From the intention 
 and end of this privilege, the nature and limitations of it may 
 :be rcafonably inferred. It muft not be exercifed to the griev- 
 ous inconvenience and detriment of the public : it muft not 1 
 obftruct the public juftice : it muft not endanger the public 
 fafety. Anarchy, my lords, is not liberty, no more than, 
 defpotifm is government : but true liberty and legal govern- 1 
 rnent are infeparably connected : what is adverfe to the one, 
 b adverfe to the other. The legal power of government in, 
 a well-conftituted ftate, is the guardian of all privileges! 
 charters, and rights : but this .guardian muft be unable to 
 execute its great truft, if it is not itfelf fupported by that 
 refpeft and that reverence which is due to it from thofe to 
 vrhom it gives protection. What refpect, my lords, or whal 
 .reverence, can be preferved to any government, where fedi- 
 tion may plead privilege to ftop the hands of public juftice: 
 and where crimes of the moft malignant and dangerous na- 
 ture, crimes which (hake the very foundations of the public 
 tranquillity, may claim the protection of a houfe of parlia 
 ment, to let them go on unreftrained ? can it be pofllble tha 
 a parliamentary fandion and authority mould ever be giver 
 to a notion fo repugnant to the purpofe for which parliament 
 wereeftablimed, to ihcfalus populi, the fupreme objet am 
 end of all government ? 
 
 The many evils that muft attend fuch a conftru&ion o 
 privilege are apparent and dreadful ! What is the remedy fo 
 thofe evils ? The remedy, we are told, may be properly am 
 fafely obtained from either houfe of parliament, the privileg 
 of which is a bar to all other relief: the juftice of the king 
 dom will be only ftopped till the next meeting of parliamet 
 (perhaps for fix or feven months). As foon as ever it meeti 
 complaint may be made to your lordftiips, or to the houfe < 
 commons ; and then right will be done. How, my lords, wi 
 right be done ? It is the doctrine of the commons, that fy 
 member can be compelled to wave bis privilege : what, if ri 
 would not wave it ? what if; confcious of guilt and apprehei 
 five of puniftiment, he fkulks behind his privilege, and hot* 
 it up as a fhield between him and juftice ? Why then li: 
 
 m:
 
 ON PRIVILEGE OF PARLIAMENT. 427 
 
 may be expelled ; and after fuch expulfion he may be profe- 
 cuted by the king, without offence to the liberty and inde- 
 pendence of parliament. 
 
 Is not this, my lords, to declare, that every member of 
 parliament, while be continues a member, though he be guilty 
 of perjury, of nvfprifion of felony, of mifprifion of treafon, 
 though he fpreads fedition from one end of the kingdom to the 
 other, is abfolutely exempt from the juftice of the crown ? 
 Such an exemption is moft abhorrent from the whole fpirit 
 gnd genius of our conftitution. It is the worft folecifm in po- 
 liticks : it is fetting up a kingdom within a kingdom. Some- 
 thing like it I remember to have been claimed b'y the clergy 
 in the darkeft ages of ignorance and Popifh fuperftition. They 
 faid, their perfons were privileged : no procefs from the king's 
 courts ought togo out againft them: but, if any clergyman 
 was accufed of any heinous mifdemeanour, application might 
 be made to the fpiritual court ; there thecaufe might be tried ; 
 and, if that court found him guilty, he would be deprived of 
 his orders ; after which, being no member of their facred 
 body, the juftice of the kingdom might take hold of him; 
 but not befo/e 
 
 This proposition appeared fo monftrous, that even thofe 
 times would not bear it ; and yet, my lords, it may perhaps 
 be thought more excufable to fuffer a number of criminals to 
 be out of the reach of public juftice, from falfe notions of 
 piety and a refpea for religion in the perfons of its minifters, 
 
 ; than where it might be imagined that a partiality for ourfelves 
 occafioncd the exemption. 
 
 I will not repeat to your lordfliips the black catalogue of 
 
 crimes, and the great multitude of criminals, that you have 
 
 been told by a noble and learned lord would be comprehended 
 
 within this conftruaion of privilege, if it mould be eftablim- 
 
 With regard to all thefe the king would in effea be de- 
 
 throned: he would bear the f word in vain; he would be no 
 terror to evil doers ; his hands would be tied, till your lord- 
 wips, or the lower houfe of parliament, or the convocation, 
 if the offender mould belong to their body, would be pleafed 
 
 : to unbind them. Is this, my lords, the law and conftitution 
 
 of England, the firft maxim of which is, that all jujliceflowt 
 
 from the crown? The king is fworn to do juftice, impartial 
 
 nd equal juftice. He is the vicegerent of that God, to whom 
 
 V'ltfreance belongs. What power upon earth can intercept or 
 Way that righteous vengeance? what power upon earth can 
 
 'have any right, any privilege, to interpofe itfeJf between him 
 
 'and the performance of his oath, which is an eflential part of 
 
 the
 
 428 SPEECH IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS, 
 
 the duty he owes to his people ? By the conftitution of Eng- 
 hnd,allegiance is tied to protection : if you deprive the fubjeds 
 of the benefit of the royal protection, you dtffohe their at- 
 
 ^With refpea to that particular fpecies of crimes which is 
 immediately under your confitferation, I will venture to fay, 
 that felony itfelf is in no degree fo alarming,fo pernicious to tn< 
 publick, as tome' fed! thus libels. They refped nothing; they 
 fpare nothing : the crown, the legiflature, public order, mo- | 
 jality, the Divine Majefty itfelf, is not exempt from their in- j 
 fults. Permit me, my lords, to paint to you in a very fewj 
 words the prefent condition of this country, with relation to 
 what is called the liberty of the prefs. If a foreigner were to 
 take his ideas of England from the printed libels on both fides, 
 he would think we had no government, no law, no God I 
 will fpare your lordmips the contemplation of fo trignttul a 
 piaure in its full length and dimenfions, and confine myiell 
 to two points, which I think more efpecially demand youi 
 
 attention. 
 
 There are two'advantages upon which our publick welfanj 
 and (Irength particularly depend ; both of which thefe wickeo 
 libellers have moft diligently and malicioufly endeavoured 
 deftroy I mean the Union of the two kingdoms or hnglanf 
 and Scotland; and that extinaion of party fpirit, the bane oj 
 all publick fpirit, I fay, my lords, that extinaion of part' 
 fpirit, which crowned with happinefs and with glory the latte, 
 vears of our late moft gracious fovereign, and the beginnmi 
 of his prefent majefty's moft aufpicious, moft benignant, art 
 moft profperous reign. Of thefe ineftimable bleffings thei, 
 execrable writings have attempted to deprive us: they Bfl 
 breathed a fpirit of difcord, which, if great care be not tak<j 
 to flop the further progrefs of it, will avenge the enemies j 
 this country of all the evils they have fuffered from that i' 
 vincible force and energy, which a very different fpirit, a 
 fit of union and concord, enabled us to exert. What c| 
 be imagined more injurious, more fatal to our happmej 
 than weekly and daily libels, fent all over the kingdj 
 which have a ftrong and manifeft tendency to break ^thofe 
 of mutual intereft and mutual afTeaion, wh.ch bind and 
 M together ; and to raife animofities, jealoufies, deadly teui, 
 civil wars, between the two nations? If the deteaed autnj 
 of fuch writings; by being members of parliament, ( a f 
 cumflance which in reality much enhances their guilt), rjY 
 go on with full fecurity, in open defiance of all law and UP 
 authority, to inflame the wounds they have made, to i
 
 ON PRIVILEGE OF PARLIAMENT. 41$ 
 into them new venom, till they are rendered incurable J if 
 this indeed be EngJi/b liberty, then, I am fure, our conftitu- 
 tion will bcfelo de fe, and wants no enemy but itfelf to bring 
 it to deftruUon. 
 
 But we ought to be very careful of the privileges of par* 
 iiament. ' -Alas, my lords, in that total anarchy, in that dif- 
 folution of all government, which this unbounded licentiouf- 
 nefs muft neceflarily produce, will parliament be fecure? 
 When a city is fet on fire, if nothing is done to extinguim, or 
 flop the conflagration, will the flames refpeQ: the fenate-houfe 
 any more than the palace ? Great apprehenfions are conceiv- 
 ed, if your lordmips mould agree to this refolution, of a 
 terrible abufe of their power in the minifters of the crown, 
 by wantonly and malicioufly imprifoning members of either 
 houfe of parliament, for innocent writings. Many anfwers 
 may be given to thofe apprehenfions i I (hall only infift upon 
 one. The adminiftration of juftice, and the execution of 
 ilaws, are, by the conftitution of our government, entrufted 
 to the crown and its officers; but, entrufted under checks 
 beneficial to liberty, beneficial to juftice. Of all thofe checks* 
 the moft effectual is the fuperintendence of parliament, which 
 is as formidable to the higheft magiftrate, as it is to the loweft ; 
 to the Secretary of ftate, as to the juftice of peace. And the 
 terror of this muft operate in a particular manner, where the 
 privileges of the parliament itfelf are concerned. In a bail- 
 able cafe, as this is, the confinement muft be prefently ended; 
 at the firft fitting of the parliament, the houfe murt know 
 and judge of the reafons of the commitment: if they are not 
 fufficient, immediate vengeance will fall on the head of the 
 minifter, who has injured the houfe in the perfon of its 
 member. Thus, my lords, both the government and our 
 liberty are as fafe as the imperfection of human policy will 
 allow them lobe. But if you change this wife fyftem; if 
 you take the executive power from the crown, and place it 
 in either houfe of parliament ; what check, what controul, 
 will then remain ? An arbitrary power will be there, which 
 is no where elfe in our government; an arbitrary power 
 without appeal. 
 
 I therefore hope, that your lordmips will not differ from 
 the commons in this refolution : but, at the fame time, I re- 
 fpet and venerate the principle upon which the oppofition 
 to it is founded ; a principle of jealous caution not to do 
 any thing that may hurt the independence of parliament* 
 which is fo important to the fecurity of the whole common- 
 wealth. Such a caution is very commendable, and the zeal 
 excited by it meritorious, even where it is miftaken. I con- 
 
 gratalattft
 
 430 SPEECH IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS, &c. 
 gratulate your lordfhips, I congratulate the whole nation* 
 on that zeal being fo warm in the breafts of young noble- 
 men, who have fpoken fo ably and fp eloquently in this de- 
 bate. But, in order to preferve the independence of parlia- 
 ment againft any future violations on the part of the crown, 
 it will be neceflary to preferve the reputation of parliament 
 in the minds of the people, and the love of it in their hearts. 
 How, my lords, can this be done, if they find it an obftacle 
 to that equal juftice, which is their birth-right and their 
 fafety ? 
 
 Upon the whole, I am confident, your lordfhips will on 
 no account depart from that maxim, which is the corner- 
 ftone of all government ; that ju/tice jbould have its courfe 
 without flop, or impediment. Jus, fas, lex potentij/imaftnt : 
 This, my lords, is the very foul and eflence of freedom. 
 Obftru& this, and you immediately open a door to all vio- 
 lence and confufion, to all the iniquity and all the cruelties of 
 private revenge, to the deftru&ion of private peace, the dif- 
 folution of publick order, and in the end to an unlimited and 
 defpotic authority, which we muft be forced to fubmit to, as 
 a remedy againft fuch intolerable evils. The dominion of lav} 
 is the dominion of liberty. Privilege againft law, in matters 
 of high concernment to the public, is oppreflioa, is tyranny, 
 wherefoevcr it exifts. 
 
 POEMS.
 
 POEMS.
 
 [ 433 1 
 THE 
 
 PROGRESS OF LOVE. 
 
 I N 
 
 FOUR ECLOGUES. 
 
 I. UNCERTAINTY. 
 To Mr. POP E. 
 
 II. HOPE. 
 
 To the Hon. GEORGE 
 DODDINGTON, Etq. 
 
 HI. JEALOUSY*. 
 
 To ED. WALPOLE, Efq." 
 
 IV. POSSESSION. 
 
 To the Right Honourable the 
 Lord. Vifc. COBHAM. 
 
 UNCERTAINTY. ECLOGUE!. 
 To Mr. POP E. 
 
 POPE, to whofe reed beneath the beechen (hade, 
 The nymphs of Thames a pleas'd attention paid ; 
 jWhile yet thy Mufe, content with humbler praife, 
 Warbled in Wmdfor's grove her fylvan lays ; 
 Though now fublimely borne on Homer's wing, 
 !JOf glorious wars, and godlike chiefs (he (ing: 
 
 Wilt thou with me re-vifit once again 
 
 The cryftal fountain, and the flow'ry plain ? 
 
 Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verfe relate 
 The various changes of a lover's (late ; 
 ,;And while each turn of paflion I purfue, 
 (Afk thy own heart if what I tell be true? 
 To the green margin of a lonely wood, 
 
 Whofe pendant (hades o'erlook'd a filver flood, 
 
 Young Damon came, unknowing where he ftray'd, 
 
 Full of the image of his beauteous maid : 
 
 His flock far oft, unfed, untended lay, 
 
 To every favage a defencelefs prey ; 
 
 No fenfe of int'reft could their matter move, 
 
 And every care feem'd trifling now but love. 
 
 Awhile in penfwe filence he remain'd, 
 
 But though his voice was mute, his looks complain'd ; 
 F f 
 
 At 

 
 434 THE PROGRESS OF LOVE. 
 
 At length the thoughts within his bofom pent, 
 Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent. 
 
 Ye nymphs; he cry'd, ye Dryads, who fo long 
 IJave favour'd Damon, and infpir'd his fong ; 
 For whom retir'd, I fhun the gay reforts 
 Of fportful cities, and of pompous courts ; 
 In vain I bid the reftlefs world adieu, 
 To feek tranquillity and peace with you. 
 Though wild ambition, and deftructive rage, 
 No factions here can form, no wars can wage : 
 Though envy frowns not on your humble (hades, 
 Nor calumny your innocence invades : 
 Yet cruel love> that troubler of the bread, 
 Too often violates your boafted reft ; 
 With inbred ftorms difturbs your calm retreat, 
 And taints with bitternefs each rural fweet. 
 
 Ah, lucklefs day ! when firft with fond furprize 
 On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes ; 
 Then in wild tumults all my foul was toft, 
 Then reafon, liberty, at once were loft : 
 And every wifh, and thought, and care was gone, 
 But what my heart employ'd on her alone. 
 Then too {he fmil'd : can fmiles our peace deftroy, 
 Thofe lovely children of Content and Joy ? 
 How can foft pleafure and tormenting woe, 
 From the fame fpring at the fame moment flow ? 
 Unhappy boy, thefe vain enquiries ceafe, 
 Thought could not guard, nor will reftore thy peace : 
 Indulge the frenzy that thou muft endure, 
 And footh the pain thou know'ft not how to cure. 
 Come, flatt'ring memory, and tell my heart 
 How kind (lie was, and with what pleafmg art 
 She drove its fondeft wifhes to obtain, 
 Confirm her pow'r, and fafter bind my chain. 
 If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band, 
 To me alone fhe gave her willing hand ; 
 Her partial tafte, if e'er I touch'd the lyre, 
 Still in my fong found fomething to admire. 
 By none but her my crook with flow'rs was crown'd, 
 By none but her my brows with ivy bound : 
 The world that Damon was her choice bdiev'd, 
 The world, alas! like Damon was deceiv'd. 
 When laft I faw her, and declar'd my fire, 
 In words as foft as paflion could infpire, 
 
 Coldly:
 
 E G L O G U 1 E I. 435 
 
 Coldly me hear'd, and full of fcorn withdrew, 
 
 Without one pitying glance, one fweet adieu. 
 
 The frighted hind, who fees hisripen'd corn 
 
 Up from the roots by fudden tempefts torn, 
 
 Whofe faireft hopes deftroy'd and blafted lie, 
 
 Feels not fo keen a pang or grief as I. 
 
 Ah, how have 1 defei v'd, inhuman maid, 
 
 To have my faithful fervice thus repay'd ? 
 
 Were all the marks of kindnefs I recew'd, 
 
 But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceived ? 
 
 Or did you only nurfe my growing love, 
 
 That with more pain I might your hatred prove ? 
 
 Sure guilty treachery no place could find 
 
 In fuch a gentle, fuch a gen'rous mind : 
 
 A maid brought up the woods and wilds among, 
 
 Could ne'er have learnt the art of Courts fo young : 
 
 No ; let me rather think her anger feign'd, 
 
 Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd ; 
 
 'Twas only mpdefty that feem'd difdain, 
 
 And her heart fuffer'd when me gave me pain. 
 
 Pleas'd with this flatt'ring thought, the love-fick*boy 
 Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy ; 
 Back to his flock more chearful he return'd, 
 When now the fetting fun lefs fiercely burn'd, 
 Blue vapours rofe along the mazy rills, 
 And light's laft blumes ting'd the diftant hills. 
 
 HOPE. ECLOGUE II. 
 To Mr. DODDINGTON. 
 
 T T E A R, Doddington, the notes that fhepherds fing 
 JLJ, Like thofe that warbling hail the genial fpring. 
 Nor Pan, nor Phoebus, tunes our artlefs reeds : 
 From love alone their melody proceeds. 
 From love Theocritus, on Enna's plains, 
 Learnt the wild fweetnefs of his Doric flrains. 
 Young Maro, touch'd by his infpiring dart, 
 Could charm each ear, and foften every heart: 
 Me too his power has reach'd, and bids with thine, 
 My ruftic pipe in pleafmg concert join (a}. 
 
 (a) N. B. Mr. Doddington had written fome very pretty love- 
 verf.s, which have never been publifhed. 
 
 F f 2 Damon
 
 436 THEPROGRESSOFLOVE. 
 
 Damon no longer fought the filent fhade, 
 No more in unfrequented paths he ftray'd, 
 But call'd the fwains to hear his jocund fong, ' il 
 
 And told his joy to all the rural throng. 
 
 Bleft he the hour, he fajd, that happy hour, 
 When firft I own'd my Delia's gentle pow'r ; 
 Then gloomy difcontent and pining care : 
 Forfook my breaft, and left foft wifhes there ; 
 Soft wifhes there they left, and gay defires, 
 Delightful languors, and tranfporting fires. 
 Where yonder limes combine to form a fhade, 
 Thefe eyes firft gaz'd upon the charming maid ; 
 There (he appear'd, on that aufpicious day, 
 When fwains their fportive rites to Bacchus pay : 
 She led the danct heav'ns ! with what grace fhe mov'd I 
 Who could have feen her then, and not have lov'd ? 
 I drove not to refift fo fweet a flame, 
 But glory'd in a happy captive's name ; 
 Nor would I now, could love permit, be free, 
 But leave to brutes their favage liberty. 
 
 And aVt thou then, fond youth, fecure of joy? 
 Can no reverfe thy flatt'ring blifs deftroy ? 
 Has treacherous love no torment yet in (lore ? 
 Or haft thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r ? 
 Whence flow'd thofe tears that late bedew'd thy cheek? 
 Why figh'd thy heart as if it ftrove to break ? 
 Why were the defart rocks invok'd to hear 
 The plaintive accent of thy fad defpair ? 
 From Delia's rigour all thofe pains arofe, 
 Delia, who now compaflionates my woes, 
 Who bids me hope ; and in that charming word 
 Has peace and transport to my foul reflor'd. 
 
 Begin, my pipe, begin the gladfome lay ; 
 A kifs from Delia fhall thy mufic pay ; 
 A kifs obtain'd 'twixt ftruggling and confent, 
 Giv'n with forc'd anger, and dtfguis'd content : 
 No laureat wreaths I aflc to bind my brows, 
 Such as the Mufe on lofty bards beftows ; 
 Let other fwains to praife or fame afpire ; 
 I from her lips my recompence require. 
 
 Why ftays my Delia in her fecret bow'r ? 
 Light gales have chas'd the late impending fhow'r ; 
 Th' emerging fun more bright his beams extends: 
 Oppos'd, its beauteous arch the rainbow bends! 
 
 Glac
 
 E C L O G U E II. 437 
 
 Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay : 
 The birds renew their fongs on every fpray !. 
 Come forth, my love, thy fhepherd's joys to crown : 
 All nature fmiles. Will only Delia frown ? 
 
 Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, 
 While every flovv'r of every fweet they drain : 
 See, how beneath yqn hillock's fhady ftetp,, 
 The fhelter'd herds on flow'ry couches deep : 
 Nor bees, nor hero's, are half fo blefbasl, 
 If with my fond defires my love. comply ; 
 From Delia's lips a fweeter honey flows, 
 And on her bofom dwells more foft repofe. 
 
 Ah how, my dear, mall I deferve thy charms?-' 
 "What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms? 
 A bird for thee in filken bands I hold, 
 Whofe yellow plumage fhines like polifh'd gold ; 
 From diftant ifles the lovely ftranger came, 
 And bears the fortunate Canaries name ; 
 In all our woods none boafts fo fweet a note, 
 Not ev'n the nightingale's melodious throat. 
 Accept of this ; and could I add befide, 
 What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide; 
 If all the gems in Eaftern rocks were mine, 
 On thee alone their glitt'ring pride fhould fhine. 
 But if thy mind r no gifts have pow'r to move, 
 Phoebus himfelf .fhatl leave th* Aonian grove ; 
 The tuneful Nine, who never fue in vain, 
 Shall come fweet fuppliants for their fav'rite fwain. 
 For him each blue-ey'd Naiad of the flood, 
 For him each green- hair'd fifter of the wood, 
 Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray 
 His mufic calls to dance the night away. 
 And you, fair nymphs, companions of my love, 
 With whom me joys the cowflip meads to rove, 
 I beg you recommend my faithful flame, 
 And let her often hear her fhepherd's name : 
 Shade all my faults from her enquiring fight, 
 And mew my merits in the faireft light ; 
 My pipe your kind afllftahee (hall repay, 
 And every friend mail claim a different lay. 
 
 But fee! in yonder glade the heav'nly fair 
 Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air- 
 Ah, thither let me fly with eager feet ; 
 Adieu, my pipe, I go my love to meet 
 
 F f 3 O may
 
 4j8 THE PROGRESS OF LOVE. 
 
 O may I find her as we parted laft, 
 And may each future hour be like the part ! 
 So (hall the whiteft lamb thefe paftures feed r 
 Propitious Venus, on thy altars bleed. ' 
 
 J E A L O fyti^i-'X.lt^&Q.v E III. 
 To Mr. EDWARD W A ^P'AJ-'E,'-! d ^ 
 
 THE gods, O Walpole, give no blifs fincere ; 
 Wealth is difturb'd by care, and pow'r by fear :, 
 Or all ihepaflions that employ the mind, 
 In gentle love the fweeteft joys we find ; 
 Yet ev'n thofe joys dire Jealoufy molefts, 
 And blackens each fair image in ou,r breads. 
 O may the warmth of thy too tender heart 
 Ne'er fee! the fharpnefs of his venoro'd dart ! 
 For thy own quiet, think thy miftrefs juft, .,;, ,. r , 
 And wifely take thy happinefs on truft. 
 
 Begin, my Mufe, r and Damon's woes rehearfe, 
 In wildeft numbers and difcrder'd verfe.,, , ;', ,; 
 
 On a romantic mountain's airy head 
 (While browzing- goats at cafe around him .feel)' 
 Anxious he lay, with jealous cares oppreft ; 
 Diftruft and anger lab'ring.rn his breaft r, V-.l'f 
 The vale beneath, a pleafmg p.rofpeft yield5, 
 Of verdantjneads and cultivated fields; {"& 
 
 Through thefe a river rollsjts winding flood, 
 Adcrn'd with various tufts of rifing wood, j,- 
 Here half conceapd in Jrees a cottage ftands, 
 A caftle there the openrng-^ain commatKls, . 
 Beyond, a town with gHtt'nng fpires is cro.wn'J, 
 And diftant hills the wide horizon bound : ^p", mm : v/'rijiV/ 
 So charming was the fcene, a while the fwain 
 Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain ; ,; n:> ,i u 
 But foon the (lings infix'd within his heart ft 
 With cruel force renew'd their raging fmart :./" n v< , f |) \ 
 I-E.s flow'ry wreath, which long with pride he wore, 
 The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, 
 Then cry'd ; " May all thy charms, ungrateful maid, . 
 I./ike thele neglected rofes, droop and fade 1 
 May angry heav'n deform each guilty grace, 
 That triumphs now in that deluding face ! 
 Thofe aher'd looks may every fhepherd fly, 
 And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worfe than I !
 
 ECLOGUE II. 439 
 
 Say, thou inconflant, what has Damon done, 
 To lofe the heart his tedious pains had won ? 
 Tell me what chirms you in my rival find, 
 Againft whofe pow'r no ties have ftrength to bind r 
 Has he, like me, with long obedience ftrove 
 To conquer your difdam, and merit love? 
 Has he with transport every fmile ador'd, 
 And dy'd with grief at each ungentle word? 
 Ah, no ! the conqueft was obtained with eafe ; 
 He pleas'd you, by not ftudying to pleafe : 
 His carelefs indolence your pride alarm'd ; 
 And had he lov'd you more, he lefs had charm'd. 
 
 O pain to think ! another (hall pofTefs 
 Thofe balmy lips which I was wont to prefs : 
 Another on her panting breaft (hall lie, 
 And catch fweet madnefs from her fwimming eye ! - 
 I faw their friendly flocks together feed, 
 I faw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead : 
 Would my clos'd eyes had funk in endlefs night, 
 Ere I was doom'd to hear that hateful light 1 
 Where'er they pafs'd, be blafted every flow'r, 
 And hungry wolves their helplefs flocks. Devour I- 
 Ah wretched fwain, could no examples move 
 Thy heedlefs heart to fhun the rage of love ? 
 Haft thou not heard how poor (a) Menalcas dy'd 
 A vicYim to Parthenia's fatal pride ? 
 Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain, 
 Lov'd by the nymph?, by Phcebus lov'd, in vain : 
 Around his tomb their tears the Mufes paid, 
 And all things mourn'd but the relentlefs raaid. 
 Would I could die like him, and be at peace ! 
 Thefe torments in the quiet grave would ceafe ; 
 There my vex'd thoughts a calm repofe would find, 
 And reft as if my Delia ftill were kind. 
 No, let me live, her falfehood to upbraid : 
 Some god perhaps my juft revenge will aid.^ 
 Alas ! what aid, fond fwain, would'ft thou receive ? 
 Could thy heart bear to fee its Delia grieve ? 
 Protect her, heav'n ! and let her never know 
 The flighteft part of haplefs Damon's woe :. 
 1 afk no vengeance from the pow'rs above j 
 All I implore is, never more to love. 
 
 () See Mr. Gay's Dbne. 
 
 Ff 4 ''.Jrft
 
 440 THE PROGRESS OF LOVE. 
 Let me this fondnefs from my bolbm tear, 
 Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair. 
 Come, cool Indifference, and heal my breaft ; 
 Wearied, at length I feek thy downy reft : 
 No turbulence of pafllon (hall deftroy 
 My future eafe with flatt'ring hopes of joy. 
 Hear, mighty Pan, and all ye fylvans, hear, 
 What by your guardian deities I fwear ; 
 No more my eyes (hall view her fatal charms, 
 No more I'll court the trait'refs to my arms j 
 Not all her arts my fleddy foul (hall move, 
 And (he (hall find thatreafon conquers love 
 
 Scarce had he fpokc, when through the lawn below- 
 Alone he faw the beauteous Delia go; 
 At once tranfporled, he forgot his vow, 
 (Such perjuries the laughing gods allow^ 
 Down the deep hills with ardent hafte he flew; 
 He found her kind, and foon believ'd her true. 
 
 : : 7.Vv , 
 
 POSSESSION. ECLOGUE IV. 
 
 To LORD COBHAM. 
 
 GO B H A M, to thee this rural lay I bring, 
 Whofe guiding judgement gives me (kill to (ing; 
 Though far unequal to thofe poli(h'd (trains, 
 With which thy Congreve charm'd the lift'ning plains : 
 Yet (hall its mufic pleafe thy partial ear, 
 And footh thy breaft with thoughts that once were dear; 
 Recall thofe years which time has thrown behind, 
 When fmiling Love with Honour fhar'd thy mind : 
 When all thy glorious days of profp'rous fight 
 Delighted lefs than one fuccefsful night. 
 The fweet remembrance (hall thy youth reftore, 
 Fancy again (hall run part pleafures o'er ; 
 And while in Stowe's enchanting walks you ftray, 
 This theme may help to cheat the fummer's day. 
 
 Beneath the covert of a myrtle wood, 
 To Venus rais'd, a ruftic altar flood, 
 To Venus and to Hymen, there combin'd, 
 In friendly league, to favour human- kind. 
 With wanton Cupids in that happy (hade, 
 The gentle Virtues, and mild Wifdom play'd. 
 Nor there, in fprightly Pleafure's genial train, 
 Lurk'd fick Difguft, or late- repenting Pain,
 
 E C L O G U E IV. 441 
 
 Nor Force, nor Int'reft, join'd unwilling hands, 
 
 But Love confenting ty'd the blifsful bands. 
 
 Thither with glad devotion Damon came, 
 
 To thank thepow'rs who blefs'd his faithful flame; 
 
 Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid, 
 
 And thus to both his grateful homage paid : 
 
 Hail, bounteous god, before whofe hallow'd fhrine 
 
 My Delia vow'd to be for ever mine, 
 
 \Vhile glowing in her cheeks, with tender love, 
 
 Sweet virgin modefty reluctant drove! 
 
 And hail to thee, fair queen of young defires ! 
 
 Long mall my heart preferve thy pleafing fires, 
 
 Since Delia now can all its warmth return, 
 
 As fondly languifh, and as fiercely burn. 
 
 O the dear gloom of laft propitious night I 
 O (hade more charming than the faireft light ! 
 Then in my arms I clafp'd the melting maid, 
 Then all my pains one moment overpaid ; 
 Then firft the fweet excefs of blifs I prov'd, 
 Which none can tafle but who like me have lov'd. 
 Thou too, bright goddefs, once in Ida's grove, 
 Didtl not difdain to meet a fhepherd's love ; 
 
 With him, while frifking lambs around youplay'd, 
 
 Conceal'd you fported in the fecret (hade ; 
 
 Scarce could Anchifes' raptures equal mine* 
 
 And Delia's beauties only yield to thine. 
 
 What are you now, my once moft valued joys ? 
 
 Infipid trifles all, and childifh toys ' ^ V 
 
 Friendfhip itfelf ne'er knew a charm like this, 
 
 Nor Colin's talk could pleafe like Delia's kifs. 
 Ye Mufes, fkill'o! in every winning art* 
 
 Teach me more deeply to engage her heart ; 
 
 Ye nymphs, to her your frefheft rofes bring, 
 
 And crown her with the pride of all the fpring; 
 
 On all her days let health and peace attend ; 
 
 May (he ne'er want, nor ever lofe a friend ! 
 
 May fome new pleafure every hour employ ! 
 
 But let her Damon be her higheft joy 
 With thee, my love, for ever will I flay, 
 
 All night carefs thee, and admire all day; 
 
 In the fame field our mingled flocks we'll feed, 
 
 To the fame fpring our thirfty heifers lead, 
 
 Together will we (hare the harveft toils, 
 
 Together prefi the vine's autumnal fpoils. 
 
 Delightful
 
 444 THE PROGRESS OF LOVE, 
 
 Delightful ftate, where peace and love combine, 
 To bid our tranquil days unclouded mine ! 
 Here limpid fountains roll through flow'ry meads, 
 Here rifing forefts lift their verdant heads ; 
 Here let me wear my carelefs life away, 
 And in thy arms infenfibly decay. 
 
 When late old age our heads fliall filver o'er, 
 And our flow pulfes dance with joy no more ; 
 When time no longer will thy beauties fpare, 
 And only Damon's eye (hall think tbee fair ; 
 Then may the gentle hand of welcome death, 
 At one foft ftroke, deprive us both of breath ! 
 May we beneath one common ftone be laid, 
 And the fame cyprefs both our afhes (hade ! 
 Perhaps fome friendly Mufe, in tender verfe, 
 Shall deign our faithful pafllon to rehearfe, 
 And future ages, with juft envy mov'd, 
 Be told how Damon and his Delia lov'd. 
 
 SOLILOQUY of a BEAUTY in the COUNTRY. 
 
 ;;/A-.U 4 :,: . ;:;,. -.; . ; , 
 
 Written at Eaton School. 
 
 -ij.a, ; !< b'f*: 
 
 5 npWAS night ; and Flavia to her room retir'd,. 
 
 J|_ With ev'ning chat and fober reading tir'd ; 
 There, melancholy, penfive, and alone, 
 She meditates on the forfaken towh'l 
 On her rais'd arm reclin'd her drooping head, 
 She figh'd, and thus in plaintive accents faid : 
 
 < Ah, what avails it to be young and fair : 
 '* To move with negligence, to drefs with care ? 
 < What worth have all the charms our pride can boaft, 
 " If all in envious folitude are loft ? 
 ' Where none a,dmire, 'tis ufelefs to excel! ; 
 " Where none.are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle : 
 *' Beauty, like wit, -to judges ftioulcl be fhewn ; 
 
 Both moft are valu'd, where they bed are known. 
 
 With ev'ry grace of nature, or 0f art, 
 
 We cannot break one ftubborn country heart : ' 
 
 The brutes, infenfible, our pow'r defy : 
 
 To love, exceeds a 'fquire's capacity. 
 
 The town, the court, is Beauty's proper fphere ; 
 That is our heav'n, and we are angels there :
 
 S O L I L O CLU Y, 5rc. 443 
 
 ' In that gay circle thoufand Cupids rove, 
 '< The court of Britain is the court of Love. 
 " How has my confcious heart with triumph glow'd, 
 How have my fparkling eyes their tranfport mew'd, 
 At each diftinguifh'd birth-night ball, to fee 
 The homage due to Empire, paid to me ! 
 " When ev'ry eye was fix'd on me alone, 
 " And dreaded mine more than the Monarch's frown ; 
 " When rival ftatefmen for my favour {trove, 
 " Lefs jealous in their pow'r, than in their love. 
 Chang'd is the fcene ; and all my glories die, 
 " Like fiow'rs tranfplanted to a colder flcy : 
 Loft is the dear delight of giving pain, ^ 
 " The tyrant joy of hearing flaves complain. 
 " In ftupid indolence my life is fpent, 
 " Supinely calm, and dully innocent : 
 " Unbleft I wear my ufelefs time away ; 
 . Sleep (wretched maid !) all night, and dream all day ; 
 " Go at fet hours to dinner and to prayV ; 
 " For dullnefs ever muft be regular. 
 " Now with mamma at tedious whift I play; 
 " Now without fcandal drink infipid tea ; 
 " Or in the garden breathe the country air, 
 " Secure from meeting any tempter there i 
 '" From books to work, from work to books I rove, 
 ' And am (alas !) at leifure to improve ! 
 " Is this the life a beauty ought to lead ? / 
 
 ** Were eyes fo radiant only made to read ? Ur> 
 M Thefe fingers, at whofe touch e'en age would glow, 
 " Are thefeof ufe for nothing but to few? 
 " Sure erring nature never could defign 
 " To form a houfewife in a mould like mine ! 
 " O Venus, queen and guardian of the fair, 
 " Attend propitious to thy vot'ry's pray'r : 
 '* Let me re-vifit the dear town again : } 
 
 " Let me be feen ! could I that wifh obtain, > 
 
 " All other wifhes my own power would gain." 3 
 
 BLENHEIM.
 
 T 444 1 
 
 BLENHEIM. 
 
 Written at the Univerfity of Oxford in the year 172; 
 
 PARENT of arts, whofe (kilful hand firft taught 
 The tow'ring pile to rife, and forrn'd the plan 
 With fair proportion ; architect divine, 
 Minerva ; thee to my advent'rous lyre 
 AiTiftant I invoke, that means to fing 
 Blenheim, proud monument ot British fame, 
 Thy glorious work ! for thou the lofty tow'rs 
 Didft to his virtue raife, whom oft thy (hield 
 In peril guarded, and thy wifdom fteer'd 
 Thro' all the ftorms of war. Thee too I call, 
 Thalia, fylvan Mufe, who lov'ft to rove 
 Along the fhady paths and verdant bow'rs 
 Of Woodftock's happy grove : there tuning fwcet 
 Thy rural pipe, while all the Dryad train 
 Attentive liften ; let thy warbling fong 
 Paint with melodious praife the pleafmg fcene, 
 And equal thefe toPindus' honour'd fliades. 
 
 When Europe freed, confefs'd the faving pow'r 
 Of Marlb'rough's hand ; Britain, who fent him forth 
 Chief of confederate hofts, to fight the caufe 
 Of Liberty and Jnftice, grateful rais'd 
 This palace, facred to her leader's fame: 
 A trophy of fuccefs, with fpoils adorn'd 
 Ot conquer'd towns, and glorying in the name 
 Of that aufpicious fitld, where Churchill's fword 
 Vanquifti'd the might of Gallia, and chaftis'd 
 Rebel Bavar -Majeftic in its ftrength , 
 Stands the proud dome, and fpeaks its great defign. 
 
 Hail, happy chief, whofe valour could defervQri f >JO jj 
 Reward fo glorious! grateful nation, hail, 
 Who paidft his fervice with fo rich a meed ! 
 Which mod fliall I admire, which worthieft praife, 
 The hero or the people ? Honour doubts, 
 And weighs their virtues in an equal fcale. 
 Not thus Germania pays th' uncancel'd debt 
 Of gratitude to us. Blufh, Caefar, blum, 
 When thou behold'ft thefe tow'rs ; ingrate, to thee 
 A monument of (hame ! Canft thou forget 
 Whence they are nam'd, and what an Englifli arm 
 Did fcr thy throne that day ? But we dildain
 
 BLENHEIM* 445 
 
 Or to upbraid or imitate thy guilt. 
 Steel thy obdurate heart againft the fenfe 
 Of obligation infinite, and know, 
 Britain, like heav'n, protects a thanklefs world 
 For her own glory, nor experts reward. 
 
 Pleas'd with the noble theme, her tafk the Mufe 
 Purfues untir'd, and through the palace roves 
 With ever-new delight. The tap'ftry rich 
 With gold, and gay with all the beauteous paint 
 Of various-colour'd filks, difpos'd with (kill, 
 Attracts her curious eye : Here Ifter rolls 
 His purple wave; and there the Granic flood 
 With pafiing fquadrons foams : here hardy Gaul 
 Flies from the {"word of Britain ; there to Greece 
 Effeminate Perfia yields. In arms oppos'd, 
 Marlb'rough and Alexander vie for fame 
 With glorious competition ; equal both 
 In valour and in fortune: but their praife 
 Be different, for with different views they fought; 
 This tofubdue, and that to free mankind. 
 
 Now, through the (lately portals ifluing forth, 
 The Mufe to Ibfter glories turns and feeks 
 The woodland made, delighted. Not the vale 
 
 Of Tempe fam'd in fong, or Ida's grove 
 
 Such beauty boafts. Amid the mazy gloom 
 
 Of this romantic wildernefs once flood 
 
 The bcw'r of Rofamonda, haplefs fair ! 
 
 Sacred lo grief and love ; the cryftal fount 
 
 In which (he us'd to bathe her beauteous limbs 
 
 Still warbling flows, pleas'd to reflect the face 
 
 Of Spencer, lovely maid, when tir'd (he fits 
 
 Befide its flow'ry brink, and views thofe charms 
 
 Which only Rofamond could once excell. 
 
 But fee where, flowing with a nobler ftream, 
 
 A limpid lake of purefl waters rolls 
 
 Beneath the wide- ftretch'd arch, ftupendous work, 
 
 Through which the Danube might collected pour 
 
 His fpucious urn ! Silent awhile, and fmooth 
 
 The current glides, till, with an headlong force 
 
 Broke and diforder'd, down the ftetp it falls 
 
 In loud cafcades ; the filver-fparkling foam 
 
 Glitters relucent in the dancing ray. 
 In thefe retreats repos'd the mighty foul 
 
 Of Churchill, from the toils of war and ftate, 
 
 Splendidly private, and the tranquil joy 
 
 Of
 
 446 BLENHEIM. 
 
 Of contemplation felt, while Blenheim's dome 
 
 Triumphal, ever in his mind renew'd 
 
 The memory of his fame, and footh'd his thoughts 
 
 With pleafing record of his glorious deeds. 
 
 So, by the rage of faction home recalPd, 
 
 Lucullus, while he wag'd fuccefsful war 
 
 Againft the Pride of Afia, and the pow'r 
 
 Of Mithridates, whofe afpiring mind 
 
 No lofles could fubdue, enrich'd with fpoils 
 
 Of conquer'd nations, back return'd to Rome, 
 
 And in magnificent retirement paft 
 
 The evening of his life. But rot alone, 
 
 In the calm {hades of honourable eafe, 
 
 Great Marlb'rough peaceful dwelt: indulgent heav'n 
 
 Gave a companion to his fofter hours, 
 
 With whom converfing, he forgot all change 
 
 Of fortune, or of ftate, and in her mind 
 
 Found greatnefs equal to his own, and lov'd 
 
 Himfelf in her. Thus each by each admir'd, 
 
 In mutual honour, mutual fondnefs join'd : 
 
 Like two fajr ftars with intermingled light, 
 
 In friendly union they together flione, 
 
 Aiding each other's brightnefs, till the cloud 
 
 Of night eternal quench'd the beams of one. 
 
 Thee, Churchill, firft, the ruthlefs hand of death 
 
 Tore from thy confort's fide, and call'd thee hence 
 
 To the fublimer feats of joy and love ; 
 
 Where fate again (hall join her foul to thine, 
 
 Who now, regardful of thy fame, erects 
 
 The column to thy praife, and fooths her woe 
 
 With pious honours to thy facred name 
 
 Immortal. Lo! where low'ring on the height 
 
 Of yon aerial pillar proudly (lands 
 
 Thy image, like a guardian god, fublime, 
 
 And awes the fubjed plain : beneath his feet, 
 
 The German eagles fpread their wings, his hand 
 
 Grafps victory, its (lave. Such was thy brow 
 
 Majeftic, fuch thy martial port, when Gaul 
 
 Fled from thy frown, and in the Danube fought 
 
 A refuge from thy fword.There, where the field 
 
 Wasdeepeft ftain'd with gore, on Hochftet's plain, 
 
 The theatre of thy glory, once was rais'd 
 
 A meaner trophy, by th* imperial hand ; 
 
 Fxtorted gratitude ; which now the ra&e 
 
 Of malice impotent, .befeeming ill 
 
 A re
 
 BLENHEIM. 447 
 
 A regal bread, has level'd to the ground : 
 
 Mean infuh i this with better aufpices 
 
 Shall ftand on Britifh earth, to tell the world 
 
 How Marlb'rough fought, for whom, and how repayM 
 
 His fervices. Nor {hall the conftant love 
 
 Of her who rais'd this monument be loft 
 
 In dark oblivion : that mail be the theme 
 
 Of future bards in ages yet unborn, 
 
 Infpir'd with Chaucer's fire, who in thefe groves 
 
 Firft tun'd the Britifti harp, and little deem'd 
 
 His humble dwelling mould the neighbour be 
 
 Of Blenheim, houfe fuperb ; to which the throng 
 
 Of travellers approaching, lhall not pafs 
 
 His roof unnotic'd, but refpe&ful hail 
 
 With rev'rencedue. Such honour does the Mufe 
 
 Obtain her favourites. But the noble pile 
 
 (My theme) demands my voice. O (hade ador'd, 
 
 Marlb'rough ! who now above the ftarry fphere 
 
 DwelPft in the palaces of heav'n, enthron'd 
 
 Among the demi-gods, deign to defend 
 
 This thy abode, while prefent here below, 
 
 And facred ftill to thy immortal fame, 
 [With tutelary care. Preferve it fafe 
 
 From Time's deflroying hand, and cruel ftroke 
 
 Of factious Envy's more relentlefs rage. 
 
 Here may, lone ages hence, the Britim youth, 
 i When honour calls them to the field of war, 
 ; Behold the trophies which thy valour rais'd ; 
 (The proud reward of thy fuccefsful toils 
 (For Europe's freedom, and Britannia's fame : 
 (That, fir'd with gen'rous envy, they may dare 
 
 To emulate thy deeds. So mail thy name, 
 iDear to thy country, ftill infpire her fons 
 
 With martial virtue ; and to high attempts 
 
 F,xcite their arms, till other battles won, 
 
 And nations fav'd, new monuments require, 
 
 And other Blenheims (hall adorn the land. 
 
 T
 
 [448] 
 To the Reverend Dr. AYSCOUGH, at Oxford, 
 
 Written from Paris, in the year 1728. 
 
 SAY, deareft friend, how roll thy hours away ? 
 What pleafing ftudy cheats the tedious day ? 
 Doft thou the facred volumes oft explore 
 Of wife Antiquity's immortal lore, 
 "Where virtue, by the charms of wit refin'd* 
 At once exalts and polifhes the mind ? 
 How diff'rent from our modern guilty art, 
 \V hich pleafes only to corrupt the heart ; 
 Whofe curft refinements odious vice adorn, 
 And teach to honour what we ought to fcorn ! 
 Doft thou in fage hiftorians joy to fee 
 How Roman greatnefs rofe with liberty ; 
 How the fame hands that tyrants durft controul, 
 Their empire ftretch'd from Atlas to the^Pole ; 
 Till wealth and conqueft into (laves refin'd 
 The proud luxurious mafters of mankind? 
 Doft thou in letter'd Greece each charm admire, 
 Each grace, each, virtue, freedom could mfpire; 
 Yet in her troubled ftates fee all the woes, 
 And all the crimes that giddy fadion knows ; 
 Till, rent by parties, by corruption fold, 
 Or weakly carelefs, or too rafhiy bold-; 
 She funk beneath a mitigated doom, 
 The flave and tut'refs of proteamg Rome ? 
 
 Does calm Philofophy her aid impart, 
 To guide the paflions, and to mend the heart? 
 Taught by her precepts, haft thou karnt the end 
 To which alone the wife their ftudies bend; 
 For which alone by nature were defign'd 
 The pow'rs of thought to benefit mankind > 
 Not, like a cloyfter'd drone, to read and doze, 
 In undeferving, undeferv'd repofe ; 
 But reafon's influence to diffufe ; to clear 
 Th' enlighten'd world of every gloomy tear : 
 Difpell the mifts of error, and unbind 
 Thofe pedant chains that clog the freeborn mind. 
 Happy who thus his leifure can employ ! 
 He knows the pureft hours of tranquil joy ; 
 Nor vext with pangs that bufier bofoms tear, 
 IN! or loft to focial virtue's pleafing care ;
 
 TO THE REV. DR. AYSCOUGH. 449 
 
 Safe in the port, yet laboring to fuftain 
 Thofe who ftill float on the tempeftuous main. 
 
 So Locke the days of ftudious quiet fpent ; 
 So Boyle in wifdom found divine content ; 
 So Cambray, worthy oft happier doom, 
 The virtuous flave of Leuisand of Rome. 
 
 Good * Wor'fter thus fupports his drooping age, 
 Far from court-flatt'ry, far from party rage ; 
 He, who in youth a tyrant's frown dety'd, 1 
 
 Firm and intrepid on his country's fide, ? 
 
 Her boldeft champion then, and now her mildeft guide. 3 
 O generous warmth ! O fandity divine ! 
 To emulate his worth, my friend, be thine : 
 Learn from his life the duties of the gewn ; 
 Learn not to flatter, nor infult the crown j 
 Nor bafely fervile court the guilty great, 
 Nor raife the church a rival to thfe flats : 
 To error mild, to vice alone fevere, 
 Seek not to fpread the lav/ of love by fear. 
 The prieft, who plagues the world, can never mend. 
 No foe to man was e'er to God a friend : 
 Let reafon and let virtue faith maintain, 
 All force but theirs is impious, weak, and vain. 
 
 Me other cares in other climes engage, 
 Cares that become my birth, and fuit my age ; 
 In various knowledge to improve my youth, 
 And conquer prejudice, worft foe to truth j 
 By foreign arts domeftic faults to mend, 
 Enlarge my notions, and my views extend ; 
 The ufefui fcience of the world to know, 
 Which books can never teach, or pedants ihew. 
 
 A nation here I pity, and admire, 
 Whom nobleft fentiments of glory fire, 
 Yet taught, by cuftom's force, and bigot fear, 
 To ferve with pride, and boaft the yoke they bear : 
 Whole nobles, born to cringe, and to command, 
 In courts a mean, in Camps a gen'rous band ; 
 From each low tool of pow'r, content receive 
 Thofe laws, their dreaded arms to Europe give. 
 Whofe people vain in want, in bondage bleft, 
 Though plunder'd, gay; induftrious, though oppreft; 
 With h;ippy follies rife above their fate, 
 The jeft and envy of each wifer ftate, 
 
 * Dr. Hough. 
 
 G g Yet
 
 4$o TO THE REV. DR. AYSCOUGH. 
 
 Yet here the Mufes deign'd a while to fport 
 In the fliort fun-mine of a fav'ring court : 
 Here Boileau, ftrong in fenfe, and ftiarp in wit. 
 Who, from the ancients, like the ancients writ: 
 Permiflion gain'd inferior vice to blame, 
 By flatt'ring incenfe to his matter's fame. 
 Here Moliere, firft of comic wits, excell'd 
 Whate'er Athenian theatres beheld ; 
 By keen, yet decent, fatire fkill'd to pleafe, 
 With morals mirth uniting, ftrength with eafe. 
 Now charm'd, I hear the bold Corneille infpire 
 Heroic thoughts with Shakefpear's force and fire; 
 Now fweet Racine with milder influence move 
 The foften'd heart to pity and to love. 
 
 With mingled pain and pleafure I furvey 
 The pompous works of arbitrary fway ; 
 Proud palaces, that drain'd the fubjeds ftore, 
 Rais'd on the ruins of th' oppreft and poor ; 
 Where ev'n mute walls are taught to flatter flate, 
 And painted triumphs ftyle Ambition GREAT *. 
 With more delight thofe pleaftng fhades I view, 
 Where Conde from an envious court withdrew f : 
 Where, fick of glory, faction, pow'r, and pride 
 (Sure judge how empty all, who all had try'd), 
 Beneath his palms the weary chief repos'd, 
 And life's great fcene in quiet virtue clos'd. 
 
 With marne that other fam'd retreat I fee 
 Adorn'd by art, difgrac'd by luxury J ; 
 Where Orleans wafted every vacant hour, 
 In the wild riot of unbounded pow'r ; 
 Where feverifh debauch and impious love 
 Stain'd the mad table and the guilty grove. 
 
 With thefe amufements is thy friend detained, 
 Pleas'd and inftru&ed in a foreign land ; 
 Yet oft a tender wifli recalls my mind 
 From prefent joys to dearer left behind! 
 
 O native ifle/ fair freedom's happieft feat I 
 At thought of thee my bounding pulfes beat; 
 At thought of thee my heart impatient burns, 
 And all my country on my foul returns. 
 When (hall I fee thy fields, whofe plenteous grain 
 No pow'r can ravifh from th' induftrious fwain ? 
 
 * The victories of Louis XIV. painted in the galleries of Vc 
 failles. f ChantiJly. } St. Cloud. 
 
 Whd
 
 TO THE REV. DR. AYSCOUGH. 451 
 
 When kifs with pious love the facred earth, 
 That gave a Burleigh, or a Ruflel birth ? 
 When in the fhade of laws, that long have flood 
 Propt by their care, or ftrengthen'd by their blood, 
 Of fearlefs independence wifely vain, 
 The proudeft flave of Bourbon's race difdain ? 
 
 Yet oh ! what doubt, what fad prefaging voice 
 Whifpers within, and bids me not rejoice ; 
 Bids me contemplate ev'ryftate around, 
 From fultry Spain to Norway's icy bound ; 
 Bids their loft rights, their ruin'd glories fee ; 
 And tells me, Thefe, like England, once were Free ! 
 
 To Mr. POYNTZ, 
 
 Ambaflador at the Congrefs of SOISSONS, in the Year 1728. 
 Written at Paris. 
 
 OThou, whofe friendfhip is my joy and pride, 
 Whofe virtues warm me, and whofe precepts guide ; 
 Thou, to whom greatnefs, rightly underftood, 
 Is but a larger power of being good ; 
 Say, Poynt/,, amidfl the toils of anxious flate, 
 Does not thy fecret foul defire retreat ? 
 Doft thou not wifli (the tafk of glory done) 
 Thy bufy life at length might be thy own ; 
 That, to thy lov'd philofophy refign'd, 
 No care might ruffle thy unbended mind ? 
 Juftis the wifh. For fure the happieft meed. 
 To favour'd man by fmiling heaven decreed, 
 Is, to reflect at eafe on glorious pains, 
 And calmly to enjoy what virtue gains. 
 
 Not him I praifc, who from the world retir'd, 
 By no enlivening generous pafllon fir'd, 
 On flow'ry couches (lumbers life away, 
 And gently bids his active pow'rs decay; 
 Who fears bright Glory's awful face to fee, 
 And fhuns renown as much as infamy. ... 
 
 But bleft is he, who, exercis'd in cares, 
 To private leifure public virtue bears j 
 Who tranquil ends the race he nobly run, 
 And decks repofe with trophies Labour won. 
 i Htm Honour follows to the fecret made, 
 And crown propitious his declining head ; 
 
 G g 2 In
 
 452 T O M R. P O Y N T Z. 
 
 In his retreats their harps the Mufes firing, 
 For him in lays unbought fpontaneous fing ; 
 Friendfhip and truth on all his moments wait, 
 Pleas'd with retirement better than with (late ; 
 And round the bow'r where humbly great he lies. 
 Fair olives bloom, or verdant laurels rife. 
 
 So when the country mall no more demand 
 The needful aid of thy fuflaining hand ; 
 When peace reftor'd mall on her downy wing 
 Secure repofe and carelefs leifure bring ; 
 Then to the (hades of learned eafe retir'd, 
 The world forgetting, by the world admir'd, 
 Among thy books and friends, thou malt poflefa 
 Contemplative and quiet happinefs : 
 Pleas'd to review a life in honour fpent, 
 And painful merit paid with fweet content. 
 Yet tho* thy hours unclogg'd with forrow roll, 
 Tho' wifdom calm, and fcience feed thy foul; 
 One dearer blifs remains to be poflefl, 
 That only can improve and crown the reft. 
 
 Permit thy friend this fecret to reveal, 
 Which thy own heart perhaps would better tell ; 
 The point to which our fweeteft paflions move, 
 Is, to be truly lov'd, and fondly love. 
 This is the charm that fmooths the troubled breaft, 
 Friend of our health, and author of our reft; 
 Bids ev'ry gloomy vexing paffion fly, 
 And tunes each jarring firing to harmony. 
 Ev'n while I write, the name of Love infpires 
 More pleafing thoughts, and more enlivening fires ; 
 Beneath his pow'r my raptur'd fancy glows, 
 And ev'ry tender verfe more fweetly flows. 
 Dull is the privilege of living free ; 
 Our hearts were never form'd for liberty : 
 Some beauteous image, well imprinted there, 
 Can befl defend them from confuming care. 
 In vain to groves and gardens we retire, 
 And nature in her rural works admire ; 
 Tho' grateful thefe, yet thefe but faintly charm ; 
 They may delight us, but can never warm. 
 May fome fair eyes, my friend, thy bofom fire 
 With pleafing pangs of every gay defire ; 
 And teach thee that foft fcience, which alone 
 Still to thy fearching mind refts flightly known ! 
 
 Thy
 
 T O M R. P O Y N T 2. 453 
 
 Thy foul, tho' great, is tender and refin'd, 
 To friendfhip fenfible, to love inclin'd ; 
 And therefore long thou canft not arm thy bread 
 Againft the entrance of fo fweet agueft. 
 Hear what th' infpiring Mufes bid me tell, 
 For heav'n fhall ratify what they reveal : 
 
 A chofen bride fhall in thy arms be plac'd, 
 With all th' attra&ive charms of beauty gracM; 
 Whofe wit and virtue fhall thy own exprefs, 
 DiiHnguifh'd only by their fofter drefs : 
 Thy greatr.efs fhe, or thy retreat fhall fhare, 
 Sweeten tranquillity, or foften care; 
 Her fmiles the tafte of ev'ry joy fhall raife, 
 And add new pleafure to renown and praife ; 
 Till charm'd you own the truth my verfe would prove, 
 That happinefs is near allied to love. 
 
 VERSES to be written under a Piaure of Mr. POYNTZ. 
 
 SUCH is thy form, O Poyntz ! but who fhall find 
 A hand, or colours, to exprefs thy mind ? 
 A mind unmov'd by ev'ry vulgar fear, 
 In a falfe world that dares to befmcere ; 
 Wife without art ; without ambition great; 
 Tho' firm, yet pliant; active, tho'fedate; 
 With all the richeft ftores of learning fraught, 
 Yet better ftill by native prudence taught ; 
 That, fond the griefs of the diftreft to heal, 
 Can pity frailties it could never feel ; 
 That, when misfortune fu'd, ne'er fought to know 
 What fe<5t, what party, whether friend or foe ; 
 That, fixt on equal virtue's temp'rate laws, 
 Defpifes calumny, and fhuns applaufe ; 
 That, to its own perfections fingly blind, 
 Would for another think this praife defign'd. 
 
 An Epiftle to Mr. POPE, from Rome, 1730. 
 
 IMMORTAL bard ! for whom each Mufe has wove 
 The faireft garlands of th' Aonian grove ; 
 Preferv'd our drooping genius to reftore, 
 When Addifbn and Congreve are no more ; 
 After fo many ftars extint in nighr, 
 The darken'd age's laft remaining light ! 
 
 G g 3 To
 
 (S4 EPISTLE TO MR. POPE. 
 
 To thee from Latian realms thisverfeis writ, 
 
 Infpir'd by memory of antient wit ; 
 
 For now no more thefe climes their influence boaft, 
 
 Fall'n is their glory, and their virtue loft ; 
 
 From tyrants, and from priefts, theMufesfly, 
 
 Daughters of Reafon and of Liberty : 
 
 Nor BaYae now, nor Umbria's plain they love, 
 
 Nor on the banks of Nar, or Mincio rove ; 
 
 To Thames's flow'ry borders they retire, 
 
 And kindle in thy breaft the Roman fire. 
 
 So in the maa*es, where chear'd with fummer rays 
 
 Melodious linnets warbled fprightly lays, 
 
 Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain 
 
 Of gloomy winter's unaufpicious reign, 
 
 No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love, 
 
 But mournful filence faddens all the grove. 
 
 Unhappy Italy ! whofe alter'd flate 
 Has felt the worft fcverity of fate : 
 Not that barbarian hands her fafces broke, 
 And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke j 
 Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown, 
 Her cities defart, and her fields unfown ; 
 But that her ancient fpirit is decay'd, 
 That facred wifdom from her bounds is fled, 
 That there the fource of fcience flows no more, 
 Whence its rich dreams fupply'd the world before. 
 
 Illuftrious name ! that once in Latium fhin'd, 
 Born to inftruct, and to command mankind ; 
 Chiefs, by whofe virtue mighty Rome was rais'd, 
 And poets, who thofe chiefs fublimely prais'd ! 
 Oft I the traces you have left explore, 
 Your afhes vifit, and your urns adore ; 
 Oft kifs, with lips devout, fome mould'ring ftone, 
 With ivy's venerable fhade o'ergrown ; 
 Thofe hallow'd ru/ms better pleas'd to fee 
 Than all the pomp of modern luxury. 
 
 As late on Virgil's tomb frem flow'rs I ftrow'd, 
 While with th ? infpiring Mufe my bofom glow'd, 
 Crown'd with eternal bays my ravifh'd eyes 
 Beheld the poet's awful form arife; 
 Stranger, he faid, whofe pious hand has paid 
 Thefe grateful rites to my attentive fhade, 
 When thou malt breathe thy happy native air, 
 To Pope this meflage from his matter bear : 
 
 Grifl
 
 EPISTLE TO MR. POPE, 455 
 Great bard, whofe numbers I myfelf infpire, 
 
 To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, 
 
 If high exalted on the throne of wit, 
 
 Near me and Homer thou afpire to fit, 
 
 No more let meaner fatire dim the rays 
 
 That flow majeftic from thy nobler bays ; 
 
 In all the flow'ry paths of Pindus ftray, 
 
 But fhun that thorny, that unpleafmg way; 
 
 Nor, when each foft engaging Mufe is thine, 
 
 Addrefs the leaft attractive of the Nine. 
 
 Of thee more worthy were the talk, to raife 
 
 A lafting colum to thy country's praife ; 
 
 To fmg the land, which yet alone can boaft 
 
 That liberty corrupted Rome has loft; 
 
 Where fcience in the arms of peace is laid, 
 
 And plants her palm befide the olive's fhade. 
 
 Such was the theme for which my lyre I ftrung, 
 
 Such was the people whofe exploits I fung ; 
 
 Brave, yet refin'd, for arms and arts renown'd, 
 
 With different bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd ; 
 
 Dauntlefsoppofers of tyrannic fway, 
 
 But pleas'd a mild Auguftus to obey. 
 
 If thefe commands fubmiffive thou receive, 
 
 Immortal and unblam'd thy name mall live ; 
 
 Envy to black Cocytus mall retire ; 
 
 And howl with Furies in tormenting fire; 
 
 Approving Time (hall confecrate thy lays, 
 
 And join the patriot's to the poet's praife. 
 
 To my LORD HERVEY. 
 In the Year 1730. From Worcefterfhire. 
 
 Strenua nos exercet inertia : naiiibus atque 
 Quadrigis. petimus bene vivere : quod pet is y hice/l$ 
 EJl ulubris t animus ft te nm deficit aquus. 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 EAV'RITE of Venus and the tuneful Nine, 
 Pollio, by nature form'd in courts to fhine, 
 -J thou once more a kind attention lend 
 To thy long abfent and forgotten friend ; 
 Who, after feas and mountains warider'd o'er, 
 Return'd at length to his own native more, 
 From all that's gay retir'd, and all that's great, 
 Beneath the {hades of his paternal feat 
 
 G g 4 Has
 
 4$6 TO LORD H E R V E Y. 
 
 Has found that happinefs be fought in vain 
 On the fam'd banks of Tiber and of Seine ? 
 
 'Tis not to view the well-proportion'd pile, 
 The charms of Titian's and of Raphael's ftile; 
 At foft Italian founds to melt away ; 
 Or in the fragrant groves of myrtle ftray ; 
 That lulls the tumults of the foul to reft, 
 Or makes the fond pofleflbr truly bleft. 
 In our own breads the fource of pleafure lies 
 Still open, and ftill flowing to the wife ; 
 Not forc'd by toilfome art and wild defire 
 Beyond the bounds of nature to afpire, 
 But in its proper channels gliding fair; 
 A common benefit, whicruall may friare,./?:,- 
 Yet half mankind thiseafy good difdain, 
 Nor relifli happinefs unbought by pain : 
 Falfe is their tafteof blifs, and thence their fearch is vain. 
 So idle, yet fo reftlefs, are our minds, 
 We climb the Alps, and brave the raging winds, 
 Through various toils to feek Content we roam, 
 Which with but thinking right were our's at home. 
 For not the ceafelefs change of ihifted place 
 Can from the heart a fettled grief erafe, 
 Nor can the purer balm of foreign air 
 Heal the diftemper'd mind of aking care. 
 The wretch, by wild impatience driv'n to rove, 
 Vext with the pangs of ill-requited love, 
 From Pole to Pole the fatal arrow bears, 
 Whofe rooted point his bleeding bofom tears; 
 With equal pain each different clime he tries, 
 And is himfelf that torment which he flies. 
 
 For how fliould ills, that from our pafllons flow, 
 Bechang'd by Afric's heat, or RuiTia's fnow ? 
 Or how can aught but pow'rful Reafon cure, 
 What from unthinking Folly we endure? 
 Happy is He, and He alone, who knows 
 His heart's uneafy difcord to compofe ; 
 In gen'rouslove of others' good to find 
 The fweetefl: pleafures of the focial mind ; 
 To bound his wifhes in their proper fphere; 
 To nourim pleafing hope, and conquer anxious fear i 
 This was the wifdom ancient fages taught, 
 This was the fov'reign good they juftly fought ; 
 This to no place or climate isconfin'd, 
 But the free native produce of the mind.
 
 ADVICE TO A LADY. 457 
 
 Nor think, my Lord, that courts to you deny 
 The ufeful pra&ice of Philofophy : 
 Horace, the wifeftof the tuneful choir, 
 Not always chofe from greatnefs to retire, 
 But in the palace of Auguftus knew 
 The fame unerring maxims to purfue, 
 Which in theSabineor theVelian (hade 
 His ftudy and his happinefs he made. 
 
 May you, my friend, by his example taught, 
 View all the giddy fcene with fober thought j 
 Undazzled every glitt'ring folly fee, 
 And in the midil of flavifh forms be free ; 
 In its own centre keep your fteady mind ; 
 Let Prudence guide you, but let Honour bind; 
 In fhow, in manners, zSt the courtier's part, 
 But be a country gentleman at heart ! 
 
 ADVICE to a LADY. 1731. 
 
 THE counfelsof a friend, Bejmdaj hear, 
 Too roughly kind to pleafe a lady's ear, 
 Unlike the flatt'ries of a lover's pen, 
 Such truths as women feldom learn from men. 
 Nor think I praife you ill, when thus I mow 
 What female vanity might fear to know : 
 Some merit's mine, to dare to be fmcere, 
 But greater your's, fincerity to bear. 
 
 Hard is the fortune that your fex attends ; 
 Women, like princes, find few real friends : 
 All who approach them their own ends purfue: 
 Lovers and miniftersare feldom true. 
 Hence oft from Reafon heedlefs Beauty ftrays, 
 And the moft trufted guide the moft betrays : 
 > Hence, by fond dreams of fancy'd pow'r amus'd,. 
 When moft you tyrannize, you're moft abus'd. 
 
 What is your lex's earlieft, lateft care, 
 Your heart's fupreme ambition ? to be fair ; 
 For this the toilet every thought employs, 
 Hence all the toils of drefs, and all the joys : \ 
 
 For this, harids, lips, and eyes, are put to fchool, /^L 
 And each inftru&ed feature has its rule : 
 And yet how few have learnt, when this is giv'fl, 
 No.t to difgrace the partial boon of heav'n ! 
 
 How
 
 458 ADVICE TO A LADY. 
 
 How few with all their pride of form can move ! 
 How few are lovely, that were made for love 1 
 Do you, my fair, endeavour to poflefs 
 An elegance of mind as well as drefs; 
 Be that your ornament, and know to pleafe 
 iy graceful Nature's unaffected cafe. 
 
 Nor make to dangerous wit.a vain pretence, ^ 
 But wifely reft content with modeft Senfe ; 
 For wit, like wine, intoxicates the brain, 
 Too ftrong for feeble woman to fuftain ; 
 Of thofe who claim it, more than half have none, 
 And half of thofe who have it, are undone. 
 
 Be ftill fuperior to your fex's arts, 
 Nor think difhonefty a proof of parts ; 
 For you, the plaineft is the wifeft rule : 
 A cunning "woman is a knavijh fool. 
 
 Be good yourfelf, nor think another's mame 
 Can raife your merit, or adorn your fame. 
 Prudes rail at whores, as ftatefmen in difgrace 
 At minifters, becaufe they wifh their place. 
 Virtue is amiable, mild, ferene, 
 Without, all beauty, and all peace within : 
 The honour of a prude is rage and ftorm, 
 'Tis uglinefs in its m oft frightful form. 
 Fiercely it (lands, defying gods and men, 
 As fiery monfters guard a giant's den. 
 
 Seek to be good, but aim not to be great : 
 \A woman's nobleft ftation is retreat ; 
 Her faireft virtues fly from public fight, 
 Domeftic worth, that fhuns too ftrong a light. 
 
 To rougher man Ambition's talk refign : 
 'Tis ours in fenates or in courts to mine, 
 To labour for a funk, corrupted ftate, 
 Or dare the rage of Envy, and be great. 
 One only care your gentle breads fhould move> 
 Th' important bufinefs of your life is love ; -' 
 To this great point direct your conftant aim, 
 This makes your happinefs, and this your fame. 
 
 Be never cool referve with paflion join'd : 
 With caution chufe ; but then be fondly kind. 
 The felfifli heart, that but by halves is given, 
 Shall find no place in Love's delightful heaven ; 
 Here fweet extreams alone can truly blefs : 
 /The virtue of a lover is excefs
 
 ADVICE TO A LADY. 459 
 
 A maid unalk'd may own a well-plac'd flame; ^ 
 Not loving fir ft t but loving wrong, is fhame. 
 
 Contemn the 
 Nor think that conqu 
 
 Short is the period of infulting pow'r, 
 Offended Cupid finds his vengeful hour, 
 Soon will refume the empire which he gave, 
 And foon the tyrant fhall become the flave. 
 
 Bleft is the maid, and worthy to bebleft, 
 Whofe foul, entire by him fhe loves pofleft, 
 Feels every vanity in fondnefs loft, 
 And afks no pow'r, but that of pleafing moft t^fr^b 
 Her's is the blifs in juft return to prove 
 The honeft warmth of undiflembled love ; 
 For her, inconftant man might ceafe to range, 
 And gratitude forbid defire to change. 
 
 But, lelTharlh care the lover's peace deftroy, 
 And roughly blight the tenderbuds of joy, 
 Let Realbn teach what Pafiion fain would hide, 
 That Hymen's bands by Prudence ftiould be ty'd. 
 Venus in vain the wedded pair would crown, 
 If angry Fortune on their union frown : 
 Soon will the flatt'ring dream of blifs be o'er, 
 And cloy'd imagination cheat no more. 
 Then, waking to the fenfe of lafting pain, 
 With mutual tears the nuptial couch they ftain ; 
 And that fond love, which ftiould afford relief, 
 Does butencreafe the anguifti of their grief: 
 While both could eafier their own forrows bear, 
 Than the fad knowledge of each other's care. 
 
 Yet may you rather feel that virtuous pain, 
 Than fell your violated charms for gain ; ^ 
 Than wed the wretch whom you defpife, or hate, 
 For the vain glare of ufelefs wealth or ftate. 
 The moft abandon'd proftitutes are they, 
 Who not to love, but av'rice, fall a prey : 
 Nor aught avails the fpecious name of w//*r; 
 A maid fo wedded, is a whore for lime. k'--> 1 
 
 Ev'n in the happieft choice, where fav'ringheav'n 
 Has equal love, and eafy fortune giv'n, 
 Think not, the hufband gain'd, that all is done : 
 The prize of happinefs muft ftill be won ; 
 And oft, the carelefs find it to their coft, 
 The kvfr in the hufband may be loft : 
 
 The
 
 460 ADVICE TO A LADY. 
 
 The graces might alone his heart allure} 
 They and the virtues meeting muRfecure. 
 
 Let ev'n your prudence wear the pleafing drefs 
 Of care for him, and anxious tendemefs. 
 From kind concern about his weal, or woe, 
 Let each domeftic duty feem to flow ; 
 The boujhold fceptre if he bids you bear, 
 Make it your pride hisfervant to appear: 
 Endearing thus the common a&s of life, 
 The mijirefs ftill fhall charm him in the ivife^ y 
 And ^wrinkled age mall unobferv'd come on, 
 Before his eye perceives one beauty gone : 
 Ev'n o'er your cold, your ever-facred urn, 
 His conftant flame mall unextinguifh'd burn. 
 
 Thus I, Belinda, would your charms improve, 
 And form your heart to all the arts of love. >/ 
 The taflc werq harder to fecure my own 
 Againft the pow'r of thofe already known ; 
 For well you twift the facred chains that bind 
 With gentle force the captivated mind, 
 Skill'd every foft attraction to employ, 
 Each flatt'ring hope, and each alluring joy ; 
 I own your genius, and from you receive 
 The rules of pleafing, which to you I give. 
 
 SONG. Written in the Year 1 732. 
 
 "V T THEN Delia on the plain appears, 
 V V Aw'd by a thoufand tender fears, 
 I would approach, but dare not move ; 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? 
 
 Whene'er fhe fpeaks, my ravifti'd ear 
 No other voice but her's can hear, 
 No other wit but her's approve ; 
 Tell me, ray heart, if this be love ? 
 
 If me feme other youth commend, 
 Though I was once his fondeft friend, 
 His inftant enemy I prove ; 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? 
 
 When me is abfenl, I no more 
 Delight in all that pleas'd before,
 
 SONG. 
 
 The cleareft fpring, or fhadieft grove ; 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love? 
 
 V. 
 
 When fond of pow'r, of beauty vain, 
 Her nets (he fpread for ev'ry fwain, 
 I ftrove to hate, but vainly ftrove ; 
 Tell me, my heart, if this be love. 
 
 SONG. Written in the Year 1733. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE heavy hours are almoft paft 
 That part my love and me, 
 My longing eyes may hope at laft 
 Their only wifh to fee. 
 
 II. 
 
 But how, my Delia, will you meet 
 The man you've loft fo long ? 
 Will love in all your pulfes beat 
 
 And tremble on your tongue ? 
 
 Will you in ev'ry look declare 
 
 Your heart is ftill the fame ; 
 And heal each idly-anxious care 
 
 Our fears in abfence frame ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus, Delia, thus I paint the fcene, 
 When ftiortly we fhall meet, 
 And try what yet remains between 
 Of loit'ring time to cheat. 
 
 V. 
 Bu' jf 'he dream that fooths my mind 
 
 Shall falfe and groundlefs prove ; 
 If 1 am doom'd at length to find 
 You have forgot to love: 
 
 VI. 
 All I of Venus afk, is this ; 
 
 No more to let us join ; 
 But grant me here the flatt'ring blifs, 
 To die, and think you mine. 
 
 DAMON
 
 
 D A M O N and D E L I A. 
 
 In imitation of H o R A c E and L Y D I A. 
 
 Written in the year 1732. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 TELL me, my Delia, tell me why 
 My kindeft, fondeft looks you fly: 
 What means this cloud upon your brow ? 
 Have I offended ? tell me how ? . 
 Some change has happen'd in your heart, 
 Some rival there has ftol'n a part ; 
 Reafon thefe fears may difapprove : 
 But yet I fear, becaufe I love. 
 
 DELIA. 
 
 Firft tell me, Damon, why to-day 
 At Belvidera's feet you lay ? 
 Why with fuch warmth her charms you prais'd, 
 And ev'ry trifling beauty rais'd, 
 As if you meant to let me fee 
 Yourflatt'ry is not all for me ? 
 Alas ! too well your fex I knew, 
 Nor was fo weak to think you true. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Unkind ! my falfehood to upbraid, 
 When your own orders 1 obey'd ; 
 You bid me try by this deceit 
 The notice of the world to cheat, 
 And hide beneath another name 
 The fecret of our mutual flame. 
 
 DELIA. 
 
 Damon, your prudence I confefs, 
 But let me wifh it had been lefs ; 
 Too well the lover's part you play'd, 
 With too much art your court you made; 
 Had it been only art, your eyes 
 Would not have join'd in the difguife. 
 DAMON. 
 
 Ah, ceafe thus idly to moled, 
 With groundlefs fears thy virgin breaflr. 
 While thus at fancy'd wrongs you grieve, 
 Tc me a real pain you give. 
 
 DELIA
 
 IMITATION OF PASTOR FIDO. 463 
 
 DELIA. 
 
 Tho' well I might your truth diftruft, 
 My foolifh heart believes you juft ; 
 Reafon this faith may difapprove; 
 But I believe, becaufe I love. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 In imitation of PASTOR FIDO. 
 
 (0 primavera giovenfu del anno.) 
 
 Written Abroad, in 1729. 
 
 i T)ARENT of blooming flow'rs and gay defires, 
 
 Youth of the tender year, delightful fpring, 
 At whofe approach, infpir'd with equal fires, 
 The am'rous Nightingale and Poet fing. 
 
 II. 
 
 Again dofl thou return, but not with thee 
 Return the fmiling hours I once pofleft : 
 Bleffings thou bring'ft toothers, but to me 
 
 I The fad remembrance, that I once was blefi. 
 III. 
 Thy faded charms, which Winter fnatcht away, 
 
 Renew'd in all their former luftre mine ; 
 But ah ! no more mall haplefs I be gay, 
 
 Or know the vernal joys that have been mine. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tho' lionets fing, tho' flowers adorn the green, 
 Tho' on their wings foft Zephyrs fragrance bear ; 
 
 Harm is the mufick, joylefs is thefcene, 
 The odour faint ; for Delia is not there. 
 
 V. 
 
 Chearlefs and cold I feel the genial fun, 
 
 From thee while abfent I in exile rove ; 
 Thy lovely prefence, faireft light, alone 
 
 Can warm my heart to gladnefs and to love. 
 
 Parts
 
 [ 4*4 ] 
 
 Parts of an ELEGY of TIBULLUS Tranflated. 
 (Divitias aliusfulvojibi congerat auro.) 
 
 1729-30. 
 
 T ET others heap of wealth a (Timing ftore, 
 I v And much pofleffing labour ftill for more ; 
 Let them, difquieted with dire alarms, 
 Afpire to win a dang'rous fame in arms : 
 Me tranquil poverty mall lull to reft, 
 Humbly fecure and indolently bleft; 
 Warm'd by the blaze of my own chearful hearth, 
 I'll wafte the wintry hours in focial mirth; 
 In fummer pleas'd attend to harveft toils, 
 In autumn prefs the vineyard's purple fpoils, 
 And oft to Delia in my bofom bear 
 Some kid, or lamb, that wants its mother's care : 
 With her I'll celebrate each gladfomeday, 
 When fwains their fportive rites to Bacchus pay, 
 With her new milk on Pales' altar pour, 
 And deck with ripen'd fruits Pomona's bow'r. 
 At night, how foothing would it be to hear, 
 Safe in her arms, the tempeft howling near, 
 Or, while the wintry clouds their deluge pour, 
 Slumber afiifted by the beating (how'r ! 
 Ah ! how much happier, than the fool who braves, 
 In fearch of wealth, the black tempeftuous waves) 
 While I, contented with my little ftore, 
 In tedious voyage feek no diftant more, 
 But idly lolling on fome fhady feat, 
 Near cooling fountains fhun the dog-ftar's heat : <i 
 
 For what reward fo rich could fortune give , 
 
 That I by abfence mould my Delia grieve ? 
 Let great MefTalla mine in martial toils, 
 And grace his palace with triumphal fpoils ; 
 Me Beauty holds in ftrong, tho* gentle chain.% 
 Far from tumultuous war and dulty plains. 
 With thee, my love, to pafs my tranquil days, 
 How would I flight Ambition's painful praife ! 
 How would I joy with thee, my love, to yoke 
 The ox, and feed my folitary flock ! 
 On thy foft bread might I but lean my head, 
 How downy (hould I think the woodland bed !
 
 AN ELEGY OF TIBULLUS. 465 
 
 The wretch who fleeps not by his fair one's fide, 
 
 Detefts the gilded couch's ufelefs pride, 
 
 Nor knows his weary, weeping eyes to clofe, 
 
 Tho' murm'ring rills invite him to repofe. 
 
 Hard were his heart, who thee, my fair, could leave 
 
 For all the honours profp'rous war can give; 
 
 Tho' through the vanquifh'd Eaft he fpread his fame, 
 
 And Parthian tyrants trembled at his name ; 
 
 Tho' bright in arms, while hofts around him bleed? 
 
 With martial pride he preft his foaming deed. 
 i No pomps like thefe my humble vows require ; 
 
 With thee I'll live, and in thy arms expire. 
 
 Thee may my clofing eyes in death behold ! 
 
 Thee may my fault'ring hand yet ftrive to hold ! 
 ' Then, Delia, then thy heart will melt in woe, 
 
 Then o'er my breathlefs clay thy tears will flow ; 
 
 Thy tears will flow, for gentle is thy mind, 
 
 Nor doft thou think it weaknefs to be kind. 
 
 But ah ! fair mourner, I conjure thee, fpare 
 
 Thy heaving breafts and loofe dimevel'd hair : 
 
 Wound not thy form ; left on th' Elyfian coaft 
 
 Thy anguifh fhould difturb my peaceful ghoft. 
 But now nor death, nor parting, {hould employ 
 
 Our fprightly thoughts, or damp our bridal joy : 
 
 We'll live, my Delia, and from life remove 
 
 All care, all bus'nefs, but delightful Love. 
 
 Old age in vain thofe pleafures would retrieve, 
 
 Which youth alone can tafte, alone can - give; 
 
 Then let us fnatch the moment to be bleft, 
 
 This hour is Love's be Fortune's all the reft. 
 
 SONG. Written in the year 1 732: 
 
 '.\ r-nfiV/ II .V W ^i^ilv -.rr'j' .' i . j.'oijL'^j y*' 
 I. 
 
 SA.Y, Myra, why is gentle love 
 A ftranger to that mind, 
 Which pity and efteem can move ; 
 Which can be juft and kind? 
 
 II. 
 
 Is it, becaufe you fear to (hare 
 
 The ills that Love moteft; 
 The jealous doubt, the ten.-Lr care, 
 
 That rack the amVous bread ? 
 
 H h Alas!
 
 4 66 
 
 SONG. 
 
 III. 
 Alas! by feme degree of woe 
 
 We ev'ry blifs muft gain : 
 The hearr can ne'er a tranfport know, 
 
 That never feels a pain. 
 
 Written at Mr. POPE'S Houfe at Twickenham, which he 
 
 had lent to Mrs. G He. In Auguft 1735. 
 
 I. 
 
 GO, Thames, and tell the bufy town, 
 Not all its wealth or pride 
 Could tempt me from the charms that crown 
 Thy rural flow'ry fide : 
 
 II. 
 Thy flow'ry fide, where Pope has plac'd 
 
 The Mules' green retreat, 
 With ev'ry fmile of nature grac'd 
 With ev'ry art compleat. 
 
 III. 
 But now, fweet bard, thy heav'nly fong 
 
 Enchants us here no more ; 
 There darling; glory loft too long 
 Thy once-lov'd '(hades deplore. 
 IV. 
 
 Yet ftill for beauteous G -He's fake, 
 
 The Mufes here remain ; 
 
 G lie, whofe eyes have power to make 
 
 A Pope of ev'ry fwain. 
 
 E P I G R A M. 
 
 NONE without hope e'er lov'd the brighteft fair,.. 
 But love can hope where reafon would defpair.^ j 
 
 To Mr. WEST, at Wickham. Written in the Year i 74. 
 
 FAIR nature's fweet fimplicity 
 With elegance refin'd, 
 Well in thy feat, my friend, I fee, 
 
 But better in thy mind. 
 To both from courts and all their ftate 
 
 Eager I fly, to prove 
 Joys far above a courtier's fate, 
 'Tranquillity and love.
 
 r 46? i 
 
 To Mifs LUCY F . 
 
 NCE, by the Mufe alone infpir'd, 
 
 I fung my am'rous ftrains : 
 
 No ferious love my bofom fir'd ; 
 
 Yet every tender maid deceiv'd 
 
 The idly mournful tale believ'd, 
 
 And wept my fancy'd pains. 
 
 But Venus now, to punifh me, 
 
 For having feign'd fo well, 
 Has made my heart fo fond of thee, 
 That not the whole Aonian quire 
 Can accents foft enough infpire, 
 
 Its real flame to tell. 
 
 To the Same, with HAMMOND'S Elegies. 
 
 ALL that of love can be exprefs'd 
 In thefe foft numbers fee ; 
 Bui, Lucy, would you know the reft, 
 It mull be read in me. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 TO him who in an hour muft die, 
 Not fwifter feems that hour to fly, 
 Than flow the minutes feem to me, 
 Which keep me from the fight of thee. 
 Not more that trembling wretch would give 
 Another day or year to live ; 
 Than I to (horten what remains 
 Of that long hour which thee detains. 
 Oh ! come to my impatient arms, 
 Oh ! come with all thy heav'nly charms, 
 At once to juftify and pay 
 The pain 1 feel from this delay. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 I. 
 
 '"i ^O eafe my troubled mind of anxious care, 
 Laft night the fecret cafket I explor'd ; 
 Where all the letters of my abfent fair, 
 
 (His richeft treafure) careful Lcve had ftor'd : 
 
 H h 2 II. In
 
 4 68 TO MISS LUCY F ! 
 
 II. 
 In every word a magic fpell I found 
 
 Of pow'r to charm each bufy thought to reft, 
 Though every word increas'd the tender wound 
 Of fond defire ftill throbbing in my breaft. 
 
 III. 
 
 So to his hoarded gold the mifer fteals, 
 And lofes every forrow at the light ; 
 Yet wiflies ftill for more, nor ever feels 
 Entire contentment, or fecure delight. 
 
 IV. 
 Ah ! (hould I lofe thee, my too lovely maid, 
 
 Couldft thou forget thy heart was ever mine, 
 Fear not thy letters mould the change upbraid: 
 Mv hand each dear memorial mall reiign : 
 
 V. 
 Not one kind word mall in my pow'r remain 
 
 A painful witnefs of reproach to thee ; 
 And left my heart mould ftill their . fcnfe "'f^. 
 My heart (hall break, to leave thee wholly free. 
 
 A PRAYER to VENUS in her Temple at STOWE. 
 -Td the Same. 
 
 FAIR Venus, rfhofe delightful ferine furveys 
 Its front refkaed in the filver lake, 
 ThefehunSbte off'rings, which W^ff**^- 
 Frefli flowers, and myrtle wreaths, propitious take, 
 
 If lefs my love exceeds all other love, 
 
 Than Lucy's charms all other charms excel, 
 
 Far from my breaft each foothing hope remove, 
 And there let fad defpair for ever dwell. 
 
 But if my foul is fill'd with her alone, 
 No other wifli, nor other objea knows, 
 
 Oh! make her, Goddefs, make her all my own, 
 And give my trembling heart fecure repoie. 
 
 No watchful fpies I aik to guard her charm?, 
 No walls of brafs, no Heel-defended door ; 
 
 Place her but once within my circling arms, 
 -surelortUwt. I will doubt no more.
 
 TO MISS LUCY F . 469 
 
 To the Same. 
 On her pleading want of TIME. 
 
 I. 
 
 ON Thames's bank, a gentle youth 
 For Lucy flgh'd with matchlefs truth, 
 Ev'n when he figh'd in rhyme; 
 The lovely maid his flame returned, 
 And would with equal warmth have burn'd, 
 But that fhe had not time. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oft he repair 'd, with eager feet 
 In fecret fhades his fair to meet 
 
 Beneath th' accuftom'd lyme ; 
 She would have fondly met him there, 
 And heal'd with love each tender care, 
 But that fhe had not time. 
 
 III. 
 
 '< It was not thus, inconftant maid, 
 " You afted once (the fhepherd faid) 
 " When love was in it's prime : 
 She griev'd to hear him thus complain, 
 And would have writ to eafe his pain, 
 But that me had not time. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How can you at fo cold a part ? 
 No crime of mine has chang'd your heart, 
 
 If love be not a crime.- 
 We foon muft part for months, for years- 
 She would have anfwer'd with her tears, 
 But that fhe had not time.. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 YOUR (hape, your lips, your eyes, are ftill the faine* 
 Still the bright objet of my conftant flame ; 
 But where is now the tender glance, that flole, 
 With gentle fweetnefs, my enchanted foul ? 
 Kind fears, impatient wifhes, fott defires, 
 Each melting charm that love alone infpvres. 
 Thefe, thefe are loft ; and I behold no more 
 The maid, my heart delighted to adore. 
 Yet flill unchang'd, ftill dealing to excefs, 
 1 ought, but dare not> try to love you lefs j 
 
 H h 3 Weakly
 
 47 o TOMISSLUCY F 
 
 Weakly I grieve, unpity'd I complain ; 
 
 But not unpunim'd (hall your change remain ; 
 
 For you, cold maid, whom no complaints can move, 
 
 Were far more bleft, when you like me could love. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHEN I think on your truth, I doubt you no more, 
 1 blame all the fears I gave way to before ; 
 I fay to my heart, Be at reft, and believe ^ 
 
 That whom once (he has chofen me never will leave. 
 
 II. 
 
 But ah ! when I think on each raviming grace 
 That plays in the (miles of that heavenly face, 
 My heart beats again ; 1 again apprehend 
 Some fortunate rival in every friend. 
 
 Thefe painful fufpicions you cannot remove, 
 Since you neither can leflen your charms nor my love ; 
 But doubts caus'd by paffion you never can blame ; 
 For they are not ill founded, or you feel the fame. 
 
 To the Same, with a NEW WATCH. 
 
 WITH me, while prefent, may thy lovely eyes 
 Be never turn'd upon this golden toy : 
 Think every pleafing hour too fwiftly flies, 
 
 And meafure time, by joy fucceeding joy. 
 But when the cares that interrupt our bills 
 To me not always will thy fight allow, 
 Then oft with kind impatience look on this, 
 Then every minute count as I do now. 
 
 An Irregular ODE, written at Wickham in 1746- 
 To the Same. 
 
 I. 
 
 YF filvan fcenes with artlefs beauty gay, 
 Ye gentle (hades of Wickham, fay, 
 What is the charm that each fuccefiive year, 
 Which fees me with my Lucy here, 
 Can thus to my tranfported heart, 
 A fenie of joy unfelt before impart ?
 
 AN IRREGULAR ODE. 471 
 
 II. 
 
 Is it glad fummer's balmy breath that blows 
 From the fair jafmine, and the blufhing rofe? 
 Her balmy breath, and all her blooming ftore 
 
 Of rural blifs was here before : 
 Oft have I met her on the verdant fide 
 Of Norwood-hill, and in the yellow meads, 
 
 Where Pan the dancing Graces leads, 
 
 Array'd in all her flow'ry pride. 
 No fweeter fragrance now the gardens yield, 
 No brighter colours paint th' enamel'd field. 
 
 III. 
 Is it to Love thefe new delights I otoe ? 
 
 Four times has the revolving fun 
 His annual circle through the zodiac run ; 
 
 Since all that Love's indulgent pow'r 
 
 On favour'd mortals can beftow, 
 Was giv'n to me in this aufpicious bow'r. 
 
 IV. 
 Here firft my Lucy, fweet in virgin charms, 
 
 Was yielded to my longing arms ; 
 
 And round our nuptial bed, 
 Hov'ring with purple wings, th' Idalian boy 
 Shook from his radiant torch the blifsful fires 
 
 Of innocent defires, 
 While Venus fcatter'd myrtles o'er her head. 
 
 Whence then this ftrange encreafeof joy ? 
 He, only he, can tell, who, match'd like me, 
 (If fuch another happy man there be) 
 
 Has by his own experience try'd 
 How much the wife is dearer than the bride* > 
 
 To the MEMORY of the fame LADY. 
 A MONODY. A. D. 1747. 
 
 Jpfe cava folans agrum tejludine amorem, 
 Te dulcif conjux, te folo in littsre fecum t 
 Te veniente die> te decedents canebat. 
 
 I. 
 
 AT length efcap'd from every human eye, 
 From every duty, every care, 
 That in my mournful thoughts might claim a (hare* 
 Or force my tears their flowing tlream to dry, 
 
 H h 4 Beneath
 
 472 M O N O D Y. 
 
 Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring (hade, 
 This lone retreat, for tender forrow made, 
 1 now may give my burden'd heart relief, 
 
 And pour forth all my (lores of grief, 
 Of grief furpafiihg every other woe, 
 Far as the pureft blifs, the happieft love 
 
 Can on th* ennobled mind beftow, 
 
 Exceeds the vulgar joys that move 
 Our grofs deiires, inelegant and low. 
 
 II. 
 Ye tufted groves, ye gentle-falling rills, 
 
 Ye high o'erfhadowing hills, 
 Ye lawns gay-fmiling with eternal green, 
 
 Oft have you my Lucy feen ! 
 But never fhall you now behold her more : 
 
 Nor will me rtow with fond delight 
 And tafte refin'd your rural charms explore. 
 Clos'd are thofe beauteous eyes in endlefs night, 
 Thofe beauteous eyes where beaming us'd to fhine 
 Reafon's pure light, and Virtue's fpark divine. 
 
 Oft would the Dryads of thefe woods rejoice 
 
 To hear her heav'nly voice, 
 For her defpifing, when ihe deign'd to (ing, 
 
 The fweeteft fongfters of the fpring : 
 The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more ; 
 The nightingale was mute, 
 And every fhepherd's flute 
 Was caft in filent (corn away, 
 While all attended to her fweeter lay. 
 Ye larks and linnets, now refume your fong ; 
 And thou, melodious Philomel, 
 Again thy plaintive ftory tell, 
 For Death has itopp'd that tuneful tongue, 
 Whofe mufic could alone your warbling notes excel. 
 
 ~iV.- 
 
 In vain I look around 
 O'er all the well-known ground, 
 My Lucy's wonted footfteps to defcry ; 
 .Where.oft we Us'd to walk, 
 Where oft in tender talk 
 We faw the fummer fun go down the fky ; 
 Nor by yon fountain's fide, 
 Nor where its waters glide 
 
 Along
 
 MONODY. 473 
 
 Along the valley, can (he now be found : 
 In all the wide-ftretch'd profpecl's ample bound 
 No more my mournful eye 
 Can aught of her efpy, 
 But the fad facred earth where her dear relics lie. 
 
 V. 
 O (hades of Hagley, where is now your boaft ? 
 
 Your bright inhabitant is loft. 
 You (he preferr'd to all the gay reforts 
 Where female vanity might wifli to mine, 
 The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts, 
 Her modeft beauties fhun'd the pfcblic eye : x 
 
 To your fequefter'd dales 
 
 And flow'r-embroidcr'd vales 
 From an admiring world (he chofe to fly; 
 With Nature there retir'd, and Nature's GOD, 
 
 The filent paths of wifdom trod, 
 And banifh'd every paffion from her breaft, 
 
 But thofe, the gentlefl and the bed, 
 W r hofe holy flames with energy divine 
 The virtuous heart enliven and improve, 
 The conjugal, and the maternal love. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sweet babes, who, like the little playful fawns, 
 Were wont to trip along thefe verdant lawns 
 
 By your delighted mother's fide, 
 
 Who now your infant fteps (hall guide ? 
 Ah ! where is now the hand whofe tender care 
 To every virtue would have form'd your youth, 
 And ftrew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of truth ? 
 O lofs beyond repair ! 
 
 O wretched father ! left alone, 
 To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own I 
 How (hall thy weaken'd mind, opprefs'd with woe, 
 
 And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, 
 Perform the duties that you doubly owe, 
 
 Now fhe, alas ! is gone, 
 From folly and from vice, their helplefs age to fave ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Where were ye, Mufes, when relentlefs Fate 
 From thefe fond arms your fair difciple tore, 
 
 From thefe fond arms that vainly drove 
 
 With haplefs inefreaual love 
 To guard her bofom from the mortal blow? 
 
 Could not your fav'ring pow'r, Aonian maids, 
 
 Could
 
 474 M O N O D Y. 
 
 Could not, alas ! your pow'r prolong her date, 
 For whom fo oft in thefe infpiring (hades, 
 
 Or under Campden's mofs-clad mountains hoar, 
 You open'd all your facrtd (lore, 
 Whate'er your ancient fages taught, 
 Your ancient bards fublimely thought, 
 And bade her raptur'd breaft with all your fpint glow > 
 
 Nor then did Pindus' or Caftalia's plain, 
 Or Aganippe's fount your fteps detain, 
 Nor in the Thefpian vallies did you play ; 
 
 Nor then on (a) Mincio's bank 
 
 Befet with ofiers dank, 
 Nor where (b) Clitumnus rolls his gentle tlream, 
 
 Nor where, through hanging woods, 
 
 Steep (c) Anio pours his floods, 
 Nor yet where (d) Meles, or (*) Uiffus (tray. 
 
 Ill does it now befeem, 
 
 That, of your guardian care bereft, 
 To dire difeafe and death your darl.ng fhould be left. 
 
 1.A* 
 
 Now what avails it that in early bloom, 
 When light fantaftic toys 
 
 t c. ,nd Rome 
 
 And all that in her latter days 
 
 To emulate her ancient praife 
 Italia's happy genius could produce ; 
 
 Or what the Gallic fire 
 
 Bright-fparkling could infpire, 
 By all the graces temper'd and rehn d ; 
 
 Or what in Britain's ifle, 
 
 Moft favour'd with your finite, J\ 
 
 The pow'rs of Reafon and of Fancy JOJH d 
 To full perfeaion have corifpir d to ra 
 
 Ah ! what is now the ufe 
 Of all thefe treafures that enrich'd her "** . 
 To black Oblivion's gloom for ever now confign ; 
 
 () The Mincio runs by M.ntua the birth-place o^ V i K o , 
 U) The Clitumnus is a river of Umbna, the r 
 
 The Anio runs through Tibur or Tivoli, where 
 
 "(0 The 
 
 U) Th a e Me.es is a river of Ionia from whence HOMSK, fu 
 fed to be born on its banks, is called Melifigenes. 
 
 pofed to be born o 
 
 (*) The Illiffus is a river at Athens.
 
 MONODY. 475 
 
 X. 
 At leaft, ye Nine, her fpotlefs name 
 
 'Tis yours from death to fave, 
 And in the temple of immortal Fame 
 With golden chara&ers her worth engrave. 
 
 Come then, ye virgin fitters, come, 
 And ftrew with choiceft flow'rs her hallow'd tomb. 
 But foremoft thou, in fable veftment clad, 
 
 With accents fweet and fad, 
 Thou, plaintive Mufe, whom o'er his Laura's urn 
 
 Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn, 
 O come, and to this fairer Laura pay 
 A more impaflion'd tear, a more pathetic lay. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Tell how each beauty of her mind and face 
 Was brighten'd by fome fweet, peculiar grace ! 
 
 How eloquent in every look 
 
 Through her exprefiive eyes her foul diftin&ly fpoke ! 
 Tell how her manners by the world refin'd 
 Left all the taint of modim vice behind, 
 And made each charms of polifh'd courts agree 
 
 With candid Truth's fimplicity, 
 
 And uncorrupted innocence ! 
 
 Tell how to more than manly fenfe 
 
 She join'd the foft'ning influence 
 
 Of more than female tendernefs : 
 How in the thoughtlefs days of wealth and joy, 
 Which oft the cate of others' good deftroy, 
 
 Her kindly-melting heart, 
 
 To every want and every woe, 
 
 To Guilt itfelf when in diftrefs, 
 
 The balm of pity would impart, 
 And all relief that bounty could beftow! 
 Ev'n for the kid or lamb that pour'd its life 
 
 Beneath the bloody knife, 
 
 Her gentle tears would fall, 
 
 Tears from fweet Virtue's fource, benevolent to all. 
 XII. 
 
 Not only good and kind, 
 But ftrong and elevated was her mind : 
 A fpirit that with noble pride 
 
 Could look fuperior down 
 
 On Fortune's fmile, or frown ; 
 That could without regret or pain 
 
 To
 
 476 MONODY. 
 
 To Virtue's lowed duty facrifice 
 
 Or Int'reft or Ambition's higheft prize; 
 
 That, injur'd or offended, never try'd -ftf 
 
 Its dignity by vengeance to maintain, 0*r _. Jy 
 
 But by magnanimous difdain.J 
 
 A wit that, temperately bright, 
 
 With inoffenfive light 
 All pleafmg fhone, nor ever paft 
 The decent bounds that Wifdom's fober hand, 
 And fweet Benevolence's mild command, 
 And bafhful Modefty before it caft. 
 A pruderce undeceiving, undeceiv'd, 
 That nor too little, nor too much believ'd, 
 That fcorn'd unjuft Sufpicion's cowards fear, 
 And without weaknefs knew to be fincere. / 
 Such Lucy was, when in her faireft days, 
 Amid ft th' acclaim of univerfal praife, 
 
 In life's and glory's frefheft bloom 
 Death came remorfeltfs on, and funk her to the tomb. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So where the filent dreams of Liris glide, 
 In the foft bofom of Campania's vale, 
 When now the wintry tempeds all are fled, 
 And genial Summer breathes her gentle gale, 
 The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head : 
 From every branch the balmy flow'rets rife, 
 On every bough the golden fruits are feen ; 
 With odours fweet it fills the fmiling flues, 
 The wood-nymphs tend it, and th' Idalian queen : 
 But in the midftof all its blooming pride 
 A fudden blaft from Appenninus blows, 
 
 Cold with perpetual fnows : 
 The tender blighted plant fhrinks up its leaves, and dies. 
 
 XIV. 
 Arife, O Petrarch, from th' Elyfian bow'rs, 
 
 With never-fading myrtles twin'd, 
 
 And fragrant with' ambrofial flowers, 
 Where to thy Laura thou again art join'd j 
 Arife, and hither bring the filver lyre, 
 
 Tun'd by thy Wilful hand, 
 To the foft notes of elegan." defire, 
 
 With which o'er many a land 
 \Vas fpread the fame of thy difaftrous love j 
 
 To me refign the vocal (hell, 
 
 And teach my furrows to relate 
 
 The!
 
 MONDAY. 477 
 
 Their melancholy tale fo well, 
 As may ev'n things inanimate, 
 Rough mountain oaks, and defart rocks, to pity move. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What were, alas ! thy woes compar'd to mine? 
 To thee thy miftrefs in the blifsful band 
 
 Of Hymen never gave her hand ; 
 The joys of wedded love were never thine. 
 
 In thy domeftic care 
 
 She never bore a (hare, 
 
 Nor with endearing art 
 
 Would heal thy wounded heart 
 Of every fecret grief that fefter'd there : 
 Nor did her fond affe&ion on the bed 
 Of ficknefs watch thee, and thy languid head 
 Whole nights on her unwearied arm fuflain, 
 
 And charm away the fenfe of pain : 
 
 Nor did (he crown your mutual flame 
 With pledges dear, and with a father's tender name. 
 
 XVI. 
 O beft of wives ! O dearer far to me 
 
 Than when thy virgin charms ^ 
 Were yielded to my arms, 
 How can my foul endure the lofs of thee? 
 How in the world, to me a defart grown, 
 
 Abandon'd, and alone, 
 Without my fweet companion can I live ? 
 
 Without thy lovely fmile, 
 The dear reward of every virtuous toil, 
 What pleafuresnow can pall'd ambition give? 
 Ev'n the delightful fenfe of well-earn'd praife, 
 Unlhar'd by thee, no more my lifelefs thoughts could raife. 
 XVII. 
 
 For my diftra&ed mind 
 
 What fuccour can I find ? 
 On whom for confolation (hall I call ? 
 
 Support me, every friend, 
 
 Your kind afliftance lend 
 To bear the weight of this oppreffive woe. 
 
 Alas ! each friend of mine, 
 My dear departed love, fo much was thine, 
 That none has any comfort to beftow. 
 
 My books, the beft relief 
 
 In every other grief, 
 
 iAre now with your idea fadden'd all : 
 Each
 
 478 MONDAY. 
 
 Each fav'rite author we together read 
 My tonur'd mem'ry wounds, and fpeaks of Lucy dead. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 We were the happieft pair of human kind ! 
 The rolling year its varying courfe performed, 
 
 And back return'd again; 
 Another and another fmiling came, 
 And faw our happinefs unchang'd remain ; 
 
 Still in her golden chain 
 Harmoniou* Concord did our wifhes bind : 
 Our ftudies, pleafures, tafte, the fame. 
 
 O fatal, fatal ftroke, 
 That all this pleafing fabric Love had rais'd 
 
 Of rare felicity, 
 
 On which ev'n wanton Vice with envy gaz'd, 
 And every fcheme of blifs our hearts had torm'd 
 With foothing hope, for many a future day, 
 
 In one fad moment broke ! 
 
 Yet, O my foul, thy rifing murmurs flay, , 
 
 Nor dareth' all-wife Difpofer to arraign, 
 Or againft his fupreme decree 
 With impious grief complain. 
 That all thy full-blown joys at once mould fade, 
 Was his mod righteous will, and be that will obey'd! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Would thy fond love his grace to her controul, 
 And in thefe low abodes of fin and pain 
 
 Her pure, exalted foul 
 Unjuftly for thy partial good detain? 
 No rather ftrive thy grov'ling mind to raife 
 
 Up to that unclouded blaze, 
 That heav'nly radiance of eternal light, 
 In which enthron'd me now with pity fees 
 How frail, how infecure, how flight, 
 
 Is every mortal blifs ; 
 Ev'n Love itfelf, if rifing by degrees 
 Beyond the bounds of this imperfect ftate, 
 
 Whofe fleeting joys fo foon muft end, 
 It does not to its fov'reign good afcend. 
 Rife then, my foul, with hope elate, 
 And feek thofe regions of ferene delight, 
 Whofe peaceful path and ever-open gate 
 No feet bu't tfe*fe of harden'd Guilt fhall mifs. 
 There Death himfelf thy Lucy (hall reflore, 
 There yield up all his pow'r e'er to divide you more. 
 
 V E R $ E
 
 ODE FROM HORACE. 479 
 VERSES, making part of an EPITAPH. 
 On the fame LADY. 
 
 MADE to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes ; 
 Tho' meek, magnanimous ; tho* witty, wife ; 
 Polite, as all her life in courts had been; 
 Yet good, as (he the world had never feen; 
 The noble fire of an exalted mind, 
 With gentle female tendernefs combin'd. 
 Her fpeech was the melodious voice of Love, 
 Her fong the warbling of the vernal grove ; 
 Her Eloquence was fweeter than her Song, 
 Soft as her heart, and as her Reafon ftrong; 
 Her form each beauty of her mind exprefs'd, 
 Her mind was Virtue by the Graces drefs'd. 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 Book IV. Ode iv. 
 
 (^uaJem miniflrum fulminis alt 'tern > c.^ 
 Written at Oxford 1725 (a). 
 
 I. 
 
 AS the wing'd minifter of thund'ring Jove, 
 To whom he gave his dreadful bolts to bear, 
 Faithful (b) afilftant of his matter's love, 
 King of the wand'ring nations of the air, 
 
 II. 
 
 When balmy breezes fan'd the vernal fky, 
 On doubtful pinions left his parent neft, 
 -In flight effays his growing force to try, 
 
 While inborn courage fir'd his gen'rous bread ; 
 
 III. 
 Then, darting with impetuous fury down, 
 
 The flocks he flaughter'd, an unpradis'd foe ; 
 Now his ripe valour to perfection grown 
 The fcaly fnak and crefted dragon know : 
 
 (a) Firfi: printed in Mr. WEST'S PINDAR. 
 () In the rape of Ganymede, who was carried up to Jupiter 
 ty an eagle, according to the Poetical Hiftory. 
 
 Or,
 
 480 ODE FROM HORACE, 
 IV. 
 
 Or, as a lion's youthful progeny, 
 
 Wean'd from his favage dam and milky food, 
 The grazing kid beholds with fearful eye, 
 
 Doom'd firft to (lain his tender fangs in blood: 
 
 V. 
 Suth Drufus, young in arms, his foes beheld, 
 
 The Alpine Rhaeti, long unmatch'd in fight; 
 So were their hearts with abje& terror quell'd ; 
 So funk their haughty fpirit at the fight. 
 
 VI. 
 Tam'd by a boy, the fierce Barbarians find 
 
 How guardian Prudence guides the youthful flame, 
 And how great Caefar's fond paternal mind 
 Each gen'rous Nero forms to early fame ! 
 
 VII. 
 A valiant fon fprings from a valiant fire : 
 
 Their race by mettle fprightly couriers prove ; 
 Nor can the warlike eagle's active fire 
 Degenerate to form the tim'rous dove. 
 
 VIII. 
 But education can the genius raife, 
 
 And wife inftru&ions native virtue aid; 
 Nobility without them is difprace, 
 
 And honour is by vice to fhame betray'd. 
 
 IX. 
 Let red Metaurus, ftain'd with Punic blood, 
 
 Let mighty Aldrubal fubdu'd confefs 
 How much of empire and of fame is ow'd 
 By thee, O Rome, to the Neronian race. 
 
 X. 
 Of this be witnefs that aufpicious day, 
 
 Which, after a long, black, tempeftuous night, 
 Firft fmil'd on Latium with a milder ray, 
 
 Andchear'd our drooping hearts with dawning light. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Since the dire African with wafteful ire 
 Rode o'er the ravag'd towns of Italy, 
 As through the pine trees flies the raging fire, 
 Or Eurus o'er the vext Sicilian fea. 
 
 XII. 
 From this bright aera, from this profp'rous fiild, 
 
 The Roman glory dates her rifing pow'r ; 
 .From hence 'twas giv'n her conqu'ring fword to wield, 
 Raife her fall'n gods, and ruin'd fhiines reftore. 
 
 XIII.
 
 ODE FROM HORACE. 48! 
 
 XIII. 
 Thus Hannibal at length defpairing fpoke : 
 
 " Like flags to rav'nous wolves an eafy prey, 
 ' Our feeble arms a valiant foe provoke, 
 
 " Whom to elude and 'fcape were vi&ory j 
 
 XIV. 
 " A dauntlefs nation, that from Trojan fires, 
 
 " HofHle Aufonia, to thy deftin'd fhore 
 Her gods, her infant fons, and aged fires, 
 
 " Thro' angry feas and adverfe tempefts bore. 
 
 XV. 
 " As on high Algidus the flurdy oak, 
 
 " Whofe fpreading boughs the axe's fharpnefs feel, 
 " Improves by lofs, and thriving with the ftroke, 
 
 " Draws health and vigour from the wounding (leel. 
 
 XVI. 
 " Not Hydra fprouting from her mangled head 
 
 " So tir'd the baffled force of Hercules, 
 ** Nor Thebes, nor Colchis, fuch a monfter bred, 
 
 " Pregnant of ills, and fam'd for prodigies. 
 
 XVII. 
 " Plunge her in ocean, like the morning fun, 
 
 " Brighter ihe rifes from the depths below : 
 " To earth with unavailing ruin thrown, 
 
 " Recruits her ftrength, and foils the wond'ringfoe. 
 
 XVIII. 
 " No more of victory the joyful fame 
 
 * Shall from my camp to haughty Carthage fly ; 
 " Loft, loft are all the glories of her name ! 
 
 " With Afdrubal her hopes and fortune die! 
 
 XIX. 
 " What (hall the Claudian valour not perform, 
 
 " Which Pow'r Divine guards with propitious care, 
 " Which Wifdom fleers through all the dang'rous ftorm, 
 
 " Thro' all the rocks and (heals of doubtful war ?" 
 
 VIRTUE AND FAME. 
 
 To the COUNTESS of EGREMONT. 
 
 VIRTUE and Fame, the other day, 
 Happen'd to crofs each other's way ; 
 Said Virtue! Hark ye, madam Fame, 
 Your lady (hip is much to blame ; 
 
 I i Jove
 
 4 8i VIRTUE AND FAME. 
 
 love bids you always wait on me, 
 
 And yet your face I feldom fee : 
 
 The Paphian queen employs your trumpet, 
 
 And bids it praife fome handfome ftrumpet ; 
 
 Or, thundering thro' the ranks of war, 
 
 Ambition ties you to her car. 
 
 Saith Fame, " Dear madam, 1 protelt, 
 
 I never find myfelf fo bleft 
 
 As when I humbly wait behind you ; 
 
 But 'tis fo mighty hard to find you ! 
 
 In fuch obfcure retreats you lurk ! 
 
 To feek you is an endlefs work." 
 Well, anfwer'd Virtue, 1 allow 
 
 Your plea. But hear, and mark me now. 
 
 I know (without offence to others) 
 
 I know the beft of wives and mothers ; 
 
 Who never pafs'd an ufelefs day 
 
 In fcandal, goffiping, or j>lay : 
 
 Whofe modeft wit, chafhs'd by fenfe, 
 
 Is lively chearful innocence ; 
 
 Whofe heart nor envy knows, nor fpite, 
 
 Whofe duty is her fole delight ; 
 
 Nor rul'd by whim, nor (lave to fafhion,^ 
 
 Her parent's joy, her hufband's paffion. 
 
 Fame fmil'd, and anfwer'd, "On my life, 
 This is fome country parfon's wife, 
 Who never faw the court nor town, 
 Whofe face is homely as her gown ;^ 
 Who banquets upon eggs and bacon 
 No, madam, no you're much millaken- 
 I beg you'll let me fet you right- 
 'Tis one with ev'ry beauty bright ; 
 Adorn'd with ev'ry polifh'd art 
 That rank or fortune can impart ; 
 Tis the moft celebrated toaft 
 That Britain's fpacious ifle can boaft ; 
 'Tis princely Pet worth's noble dame ; 
 REMONT Go, tell it, Fame! 
 
 Addition .extempore, by Earl HARDWIRE. 
 
 AM E heard with pleafure ftrait reply'd, 
 Firfl on my roll ftands Wyndham s bride ; 
 v trumpet oft I've rais'd.to found 
 Her modeft praife the world around ;
 
 VIRTUE AND FAME. 483 
 
 But notes were wanting Can'fl thou find 
 A Mufe to ilng her fate, her mind ? 
 Believe me, lean name but one, 
 A friend of your's -'tis LYTTELTON." 
 
 Letter to Earl HARDWICKE, occafioned by the foregoing 
 Verfes. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 AThoufand thanks to your lordfhip for your addition to 
 my verfes. If you can write fuch extempore, it is well 
 for other poets, that you chofe to be lord chancellor, rather 
 than a laureat. They explain to me a vifion I had the night 
 before. & 
 
 Me thought I faw before my feet, 
 
 With countenance ferene and fweet, 
 
 The Mufe, who in my youthful days 
 
 Had oft infpir'd my carelefs lays. 
 
 She fmil'd,~and-faid, " Once more I fee 
 
 My fugitive returns to me ; 
 
 Long had I loft you from my bower, 
 
 You fcorn'd to own my gentle power ; 
 
 With rrre'nomdre your genius frjorted, 
 
 The grave Hiftoric Mufe you courted; 
 
 Or, rais'd from earth, with draining eyes, 
 
 Purfu'd Urania through the ikies ; 
 
 But now, to my forfaken track, 
 
 Fair EGREMONT has brought you back ; 
 
 Nor blu,h, by her and Virtue led, 
 
 That foft, that pleafing pruh to tread ; 
 
 For there, beneath to-morrow's ray, 
 
 Ev'n Wifdom's felf mail deign to play. 
 
 Lo ! to my flow'ry groves and fprings 
 
 Her fav'rite fon the goddefc brings, 
 
 The council's arid the fenate's guide, 
 
 Law's oracle, the nation's pride : 
 
 He comes, he j6ys with thee'to join, 
 
 In finging WYNDH AM'S charms divine. 
 
 To thine he adds his nobler lay <;, 
 
 E'en thee, my friend, he deigns topraife, 
 
 Enjoy that pjaife, nor envy PITT 
 
 His fame with burgefs or with cit; 
 
 For fure one line from fuch a bard, 
 
 Virtue would think her bed reward." 
 
 1 a On
 
 On reading Mifs C A R T E R's Poems in MS. 
 
 SUCH were the notes that flruck the wond'ring ear 
 Of filent Night, when, on the verdant banks 
 Ot Siloe's hallow'd brook, celeftial harps, 
 According to feraphic voices, fung 
 Glory to God on high, and on the earth 
 Peace and good-will to men ! Refume the lyre, 
 Chauntrefs divine, and ev'ry Briton call 
 Its melody to hear fo (hall thy drains, 
 More pow'rful than the Cong of Orpheus, tame 
 The favage heart of brutal vice, and bend 
 At pure Religion's fhrine the ftubborn knees 
 Of bold Impiety. Greece fnall no more 
 Of Lefbian Sappho boaft, whofe wanton Mufe, 
 Like a tale Syren, while (he charm'd, feduc d 
 To guilt and ruin. For the facred head 
 Of Britain's poetrefs, the Virtues twine 
 A nobler wreath, by them from Eden s grove 
 Unfading gather'd, and dired the hand 
 Of to fix it on her brows. 
 
 MOUNT EDGECUMBE. 
 
 THE Gods, on thrones celeftial feated, 
 By Jove with bowls of nettar heated, 
 Al! on Mount Edgecurribe turn'd their eyes ; 
 That place is mine, great Neptune cries: 
 Behold ! how proud o'er all the mam 
 Thole (lately turrets fecm to reign 1 
 No views fo grand on earth you lee ! 
 The mailer too belongs to me ; 
 I grant him my domain to (hare, 
 I bid his hand my trident bear." 
 " Thefea is your's, but mine the land, 
 Pallas replies; by me wereplann'd 
 Thofetow'rs, that hofpital, thole docks, 
 That fort, which crowns thofe idand rocks : 
 The lady too. is of my choir, 
 I taught her hand to touch the lyre ; 
 "With ev'ry charm her mind 1 grac'd, ^ 
 I gave her prudence, knowledge, tafte. 
 
 " Hold, madam, interrupted Venus, 
 The lady mud be Ihar'd between us :
 
 INVITATION, &c. 485 
 
 And furely mine is yonder grove, 
 So fine, fo dark, fo fit for love ; 
 Trees, fuch as in th' Idalian glade, 
 Or Cyprian lawn, my palace rtiade." 
 
 Then Oreads, Dryads, Naiads came, 
 Each nymph alledg'd her lawful claim ; 
 But Jove, to finim the debate, 
 Thus fpoke, and what he fpeaks is fate : 
 1 Nor god, nor goddefs, great or imall n 
 
 That dwelling his or hers may call, L 
 
 I made Mount Edgecumbe for you all." J 
 
 INVITATION 
 
 To the DOWAGER DUCHESS D'AIGUILLON". 
 
 WHEN Peace fhall, on her downy wing, 
 To France and England Friendlhip bring, 
 Come, Aiguillon, and here receive 
 That homage we delight to give 
 To foreign talents, foreign charms, 
 To worth which Envy's felf difarms 
 Of jealous hatred : Come, and love 
 That nation which you now approve. 
 So mall by France amends be made 
 (K fuch a debt can e'er be paid) 
 For having with feducing art 
 From Britain ftol'n her H v y's heart. 
 
 TO COLONEL DRUM GOLD, 
 
 DRumgoId, whofe anceftors from Albion's (hore 
 Their conq'ring Standards to Hibernia bore 
 i no- now thy valour, to thy country loft, 
 Mimes m the foremoft ranks of Gallia's hoft 
 Think not that France (hall borrow all thy fame 
 * rom Britifh fires deriv'd thy genius came 
 Its force, its energy, to thefe it ow'd, 
 But the fair polifh Gallia's clime beftow'd 
 The Graces there each ruder thought refin'd, ' 
 And hveheft wit with foundeftfenfe combin'd 
 1 hey taught in fponive Fancy's gay attire 
 J o dreis the graveft of th' Aonian choir 
 And g ave to fober W ifd om 's wrinkled cheek 
 1 tie imile that dwells in HeNe's dimple Heek, 
 1 ] 3
 
 486 TO COLONEL DRUMGOLD. 
 
 Pay to each realm the debt that each may aflt : 
 
 Be thine, and thine alone, the pleafing talk, 
 
 In pureft elegance of Gallic phrafe 
 
 To cloath the fpirit of ihe Britifh lays. 
 
 Thus ev'ry flow'r which ev'ry Mufe's hand 
 
 Has rais'd profufe in -Britain's favour'd land, 
 
 By thee tranfplanted to the banks of Seine, 
 
 Its fweeteft native odours fhall retain. 
 
 And when thy noble friend, with olive crown d, 
 
 In Concord's golden chain has firmly bound 
 
 The rival nations, thou for both malt raife 
 
 The grateful fong to his immortal praife. 
 
 Albion (hall think (he hears her Prior fmg, 
 
 And France, that Boileau ftrikes the tuneful ftnng. 
 
 Then (halt thou tell what various talents join'd, 
 
 Adorn, embeHifti, and exalt his mind ; 
 
 Learning and wit, with fweet politenefs grac'd ; 
 
 "Wifdom by guile or cunning undebas'd ; 
 
 By pride unfullied, genuine dignity ; 
 
 A noble and lublime fimplicity. 
 
 Such in thy vfrfe (hall Nivernois be (hewn, 
 
 France mall with joy the fair refemblance own, 
 
 And Albion fighing bid her fons afpire 
 
 To imitate the merit they admire. 
 
 i 
 On GOOD HUMOUR. Written at Eaton School, 1 7 29 
 
 TELL me, ye fons of Phoebus, what is this 
 Which all admire, but few, too few poficfs? 
 A virtue 'tis to ancient maids unknown, 
 And prudes, who fpy all faults except their own. 
 Lov'd and defended by the brave and wife, 
 Tho' knaves abufe it, and like fools defpife. 
 Say, Wyndham, if 'tis poffible to tell, 
 What is the thing in which you moft excel? 
 Hard is the queftion, for in all you pleafe, 
 Yet fure good-nature is your nobleft praife j 
 Secur'd by this, your parts no envy move, 
 For none can envy him, whom all muft love. 
 This magic pow'r can make e'en folly pleafe, 
 This to Pitt's genius adds a brighter^grace, 
 And fweetens ev'ry charm in Cselia's face. 
 
 So*
 
 [487] 
 
 Some additional Stanzas to ASTOLFO'S VOYAGE TO THE 
 MOON, in ARIOSTO. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHEN now Aftolfo, ftor'd within a vafe, 
 Orlando's wits had fafely brought away ; 
 He turn'd his eyes towards another place, 
 
 Where, clofely cork'd, unnumber'd bottles lay. 
 
 Of fineft cryftal were thofe bottles made, 
 
 Yet what was there inclos'd he could not fee : 
 Wherefore in humble wife the Saint he pray'd, 
 
 To tell what treafure there conceal'd mieht be. 
 
 III. 
 * A wond'rous thing it is, the Saint reply'd, 
 
 Yet undefin'd by any mortal wight ; 
 JVn airy eflence, not to be defcry'd, 
 
 Subtle and thin, that MAIDENHEAD is hight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From earth each day in troops they hither comfc 
 And fill each hole and corner of the Moon ; 
 For they are never eafy while at home, 
 
 Nor ever owner thought them gone too foon. 
 
 V. 
 When herearriv'd, they are in bottles pent, 
 
 For fear they mould evaporate again ; 
 And hard it is, a prifon to invent, 
 So volatile a fpirit to retain. 
 VI. 
 Thofe that to young and wanton girls belong 
 
 Leap, bounce, and fly, as if they'd burft the glafs ; 
 But thofe that have below been kept too long 
 Are fpiritlefs, and quite decay'd, alas !" 
 
 VII. 
 So fpake the Saint, and wonder feiz'd the Knight, 
 
 As of each vefiel he th' infcription read ; 
 For various fecrets there were brought to light, 
 Of which report on earth had nothing laid. 
 
 VIH. 
 Virginities, that clofe confin'd he thought 
 
 In t'other world, he found above the fky ; 
 nis fitter's and his coufm's there were brought, 
 
 Which made him fwear, tho' good St John was by
 
 488 ASTOLFO's VOYAGE TO THE MOON. 
 IX. 
 
 But much his wrath increas'd, when he efpy'd 
 
 That which was Chloe's once, his miftrefs dear : 
 Ah falfe and treach'rous fugitive ! he cry'd, 
 
 Little I deem'd that I fhould meet thee here ! 
 
 X. 
 Did not thy owner, when we parted laft, 
 
 Promife to keep thee fate for me alone ? 
 Scarce of our abfence three fhort months are part. 
 And thou already from thy port art flown 1 
 
 XI. 
 Be not enrag'd, reply'd th' Apoftle kind 
 
 Since that this Maidenhead is thine by right, 
 Take it away ; and, when thou haft a mind, 
 
 Carry it tbitber, whence it took its flight." 
 
 XII. 
 Thanks, Holy Father ! quoth the joyous Knight, 
 
 The Moon fhall he no lofer by your grace : 
 Let me but have the ufe on't for a night, 
 And I'll reftore it to its prefent place." 
 
 To a young LADY, with the Tragedy of Venice Preferv'd. 
 
 I 
 
 N tender Otway's moving fcenes we find 
 jL What pcw'r the gods have to your fex aflign'd; 
 Venice was loft, if on the brink of fate 
 A woman h-.d mt propt her finking ftate : 
 Jn the dark danger of that dreadful hour, 
 Vain was her fenate's wifdom, vain it's pow r j 
 But, fav'd by Belvidera's charming tears, 
 Still o'er the fubjeft main her tow'rs (he rears, 
 And ftands a great example to mankind, 
 With what a boundiefs fway you rule the mind, 
 Skilful the worft, or nobleft ends, to ferve, 
 And flrong alike, to ruin, or prefer ve. 
 In wretched Jaffier we with pity view 
 A mind to Honour falfc, to Virtue true, 
 In the wild tlorm of ftruggling pafllons toft, 
 Yet faving ionocence, tho' fame was loft ; 
 Greatly forgetting what he ow'd his friend 
 His country, which had wrong'd him, to defend, 
 
 But fhe who ufg'd him to that pious detd, 
 Who knew fa well the patriot's eaufe to plead, 
 M'hofe conq'ring love her country's fafety won, 
 Wa5, by that fatal love, berfclf undone.
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY, * c . 489 
 
 * " Hence we may learn what Paflion fain would hide, 
 That Hymen's bands by Prudence mould be ty'd. 
 Venus in vain the wedded pair would crown, 
 If angry Fortune on their union frown : 
 Soon will tht flatt'nng dreams of joy be o'er, 
 And cloy'd imagination cheat no more j 
 " Then, waking to the fenfe of lafting pain, 
 < With mutual tears the bridal couch they ftain, 
 ** And that fond love, which mould afford relief, 
 " Does but augment the anguifli of their grief: 
 * While both could eafier their own furrows bear, 
 " Than the fad knowledge of each other's care." 
 
 May all the joys in Love and Fortune's pow'r 
 Kindly combine to grace your nuptial hour ! 
 On each glad day may Plenty fliow'r delight, 
 And warmeft rapture blefs each welcome night ! 
 May lleav'n, that gave you Belvidera's charms, 
 Deftine Come happier Jaffier to your arms, 
 Whofe blifs misfortune never may allay, 
 "VVhofe fondnefs never may through care decay ; 
 Whofe wealth may place you in the faireft light, 
 And force each model! beauty into fight! 
 So fhall no anxious want your peace deftroy, 
 No temped: crufh the tender buds of joy ; 
 But all your hours in one gay circle move, 
 Nor Reaibn ever difagree with Love ! 
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 TELL me, my heart, fond (lave of hopelefs love, 
 And doom'd its woes without its joys to prove, 
 Canft thou endure thus calmly to erale 
 The dear, dear image of thy Delia's face, 
 Canft thou exclude that habitant divine, 
 To place fome meaner idol in her (hrine ? 
 O talk, for feeble Keafon too fevere ! 
 O lellbq, nought could teach me but Defpair ! 
 Muft I forbid my eyes that heav'nly fight, 
 They've view'd fo oft with lanfiuifhing delight ? 
 Mufi my ears fliun that voice whofe charming found 
 Seem'd to relieve while it encreas'd my wound ? 
 
 * The twelve following line*, with fome frmll variations, have 
 been already printed in " Advice to a Lady," p. 613; but, as 
 Lord Lyttelton chofe to introduce them here, it was thought 
 more prop-r to repeat thefe few lines, than to fupprefs the reft of* 
 iJie poem, 
 
 O Waller !
 
 490 E Lr EG Y. 
 
 O Waller ! Petrarch ! you who tun'd the lyre 
 To the foft notes of elegant defire ; 
 Though Sidney to a rival gave her charms, 
 Though Laura dying left her lover's arms, 
 Yet were yoar pains lefs exquifite than mine 
 'Tis eafier far to lofe, than to refign ! 
 
 Infcription for a Bufl of Lady SUFFOLK ; defigned to be fet 
 up in a Wood at Stowe, 1732. 
 
 ER wit and beauty for a court were made, 
 But truth and goodnefs fit her for a (hade. 
 
 H 
 
 SULPICIA to CERIN THUS, in her Sicknefs. FromTiuULLUS 
 (Sent to a Friend, in a Lady's Name.) 
 
 S 
 
 AY, my Cerinthus, does thy tender breaft 
 
 Feel the fame fev'rifh heats that mine moleft ? 
 Alas ! I only wifh for health again, 
 Becaufe I think my lover (hares my pain : 
 For what would health avail to wretched me, 
 If you could unconcern'd my illnefs fee ? 
 
 SULPICIA to CERINTHUS. 
 
 I'M weary of this tedious dull deceit ; 
 Myfelf I torture while the world I cheat : 
 Tho' Prudence bids me drive to guard my fame, 
 Love fees the low hypocrify with (hame ; 
 Love bids me all confefs, and call thee mine, 
 Worthy my heart, as I am worthy thine : 
 Weaknefs for thee I will no longer hide ; 
 Weaknefs for thee is woman's nobleft pride. 
 
 C A T O's Speech to L A B i E K u s, in the Ninth Boc 
 of L u c A N. 
 
 (juid quteri, Lableni, jubes, 
 
 WHAT, Labienus, would thy fond defire 
 Of horned Jove's prophetic fhrine enquire ? 
 Whether to feck in arms a glorious doom 
 Or bafcly live, and fee a king in Rome ?
 
 CATO's SPEECH TO LABIENUS. 491 
 
 If life be nothing more than death's delay ? 
 If impious force can honeft minds difmay, 
 Or Probity may Fortune's frown difdain ? 
 If well to mean is all that Virtue can, 
 And right, dependant on itfelf alone, 
 Gains no addition from fuccefs? 'Tis known : 
 Fix'd in my heart thefe conftant truths I bear, 
 And Ammon cannot write them deeper there. 
 Our fouls, allied to God, within them feel 
 The fecret di&ites of th' Almighty will ; 
 This is his voice, be this our oracle. 
 When firft his breath the feeds of life inftill'd, 
 All that we ought to know was then reveal'd. 
 Nor can we think the Omniprefent mind 
 Has truth to Libya's defart fands confin'd, 
 There, known to few, obfcur'd and loft to lie 
 Is there a temple of the Deity, 
 Except earth, fea, and air, yon azure pole; 
 And chief, his holieft fhrine, the virtuous foul ? 
 Where e'er the eye can pierce, the feet can move, 
 This wide, this boundlels univerfe, is Jove. 
 Let abjeft minds, that doubt becaufe they fear, 
 With pious awe to juggling priefts repair; 
 I credit not what lying prophets tell 
 Death is the only certain oracle : 
 Cowards and brave muft die one deft'm'd hour 
 This Jove has told ; he needs not tell us more. 
 
 To Mr. GLOVER, on his Poem of LEONID AS. 
 Written in the year 1734. 
 
 GO on, my friend, the noble tafk purfue, 
 ^^ And think thy genius is thy country's due: 
 To vulgar wits inferiour themes belong, 
 But Liberty and Virtue claim thy fong. 
 Yet ceafe to hope, tho' grac'd with every charm, 
 The patriot verfe will cold Britannia warm; 
 Vainly thou ftriv'ft our languid hearts to raife 
 By great examples, drawn from better days: 
 No longer we to Sparta's fame afpire, 
 What Sparta fcorn'd, inftruSed to admire ; 
 Nnrs'd in the love of wealth, and form'd to bend 
 Our narrow thoughts to that inglorious end : 
 
 No
 
 49 s TO MR. GLOVER. 
 
 No gen'rons purpofe can enlarge the mind, 
 'No facial care, no labour for mankind, 
 Where mean felf-intereft every a&ion guides, 
 In camps commands, in cabinets prefidts ; 
 Where luxury confumes the guilty ftore, 
 And bids the villain be a flave for more. 
 
 Hence, wretched nation, all thy woes arife 
 Avow'd corruption, licens'd perjuries, 
 Eternal taxes, treaties for a day, 
 Servants that rule, and fenates that obey ! 
 O people far unlike the Grecian race, 
 That deems a virtuous poverty difgrace, 
 That fuffers public wrongs, and public fhame, 
 In council infolent, in action tame ! 
 Say, what is now th' ambition of the great ? 
 Is it to raife their country's finking ftate ; 
 Her lead of debt to eafe by frugal care, 
 Her trade to guard, her harrafs'd poor to fpare? 
 Is it, like honeft Sommers, to infpire 
 The love of laws, and freedom's facred fire ? 
 Is it, like wife Godolphin, to fuftain 
 The balanc'd world, and botindlefs pow'r reflrain ? 
 Or is the mighty aim of all their toil, 
 Only to aid the wreck, and (hare the fpoil, 
 On each relation, friend, dependant pour 
 With partial wantonnefs the golden fhow'r, 
 And, fenc'd by flrong corruption, to delpife 
 An injur'd nation's unavailing cries ? 
 
 Roufe, Briton?, route ; if lenfe of fhame be weak, 
 Let the loud voice of threat'ning danger fpeak. 
 Lo ! France, as Per fu once, o'er every land 
 Prepares to ftretch her all-oppreffing hand ; 
 Shall England fit rcgardlefs and fedate, 
 A cairn fpeftatrefs of the gen'ral fate, 
 Or call forth all her virtue, and oppofe 
 I .ike valiant Greece, her o\vn and Europe's foes ? 
 O let us feize the moment in our pow'r, 
 Our follies now have reach'd the fatal hour ; 
 "No later term the angry gods ordain ; 
 This crifis loft, we (hall be wife in vain. 
 
 And thou, great poet, in whofe nervous lines 
 The native majefty of freedom (hints, 
 Accept this friendly praife ; and let me prove 
 My heart not wholly void of public love ; 
 
 The'
 
 TO WILLIAM P I T T, E SQi 493 
 
 Though not l<ke thee I ftrike the founding firing 
 To notes which Sparta might have deign'd to fing, 
 But idly fporting in the fecret (hade 
 With tender trifles footh fome artlefs maid. 
 
 To WILLIAM PITT, Efq; o n his loflng his Commiflion, 
 in the year 1736. 
 
 LONG had thy virtues markt thee out for fame, 
 Far, far fuperior to a Cornet's name ; 
 This gen'rous Walpole faw, and gnev'd to find 
 30 mean a port difcrace that noble mind ; 
 The fervile ftandard from thy freeborn hand 
 tie took, and bad thee lead the patriot band. 
 
 LETTERS
 
 T I 
 
 DMO
 
 LETTERS 
 
 T O 
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON, 
 
 From the Year 1728, to the Year 1747.
 
 51
 
 [ 497 ] 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 T O 
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTT ELTON, 
 
 LETTER I. 
 To Sir THOMAS LYTTELTON, at Hagley. 
 
 DEAR SIR, London, Feb. 4, 1728. 
 
 I A M mighty glad you have made choice of fo agree- 
 able a place as Lorrain to fend me to ; I mail be impa- 
 tient to hear that you have got a fervant for me, that my 
 ftay here may be the ihorter : in the mean while, you 
 may be fure, I mall not neglect to make the beft ufe of my 
 time. 
 
 . I am proud that the D approves my verfes ; for her 
 
 judgement does great honour to thofe that pleafe her* The 
 fubje& is Blenheim-caftle : I would have fent you a copy of 
 them, but have not yet had time to tranfcribe them ; you 
 (hall therefore receive them enclofed in my next letter. 
 
 The news you tell me of does not a little pleafe 
 
 me : whatever does him honour in your opinion is of ad- 
 vantage tome, as it will render the friendmip that is be- 
 tween us more agreeable to you ; for my fatisfa&ion in his 
 acquaintance has been always checked, by ouferving you 
 had not that efteem for him as I could wim you might have 
 for all my friends : but I hope he will deferve it better eve- 
 ry day, and confirm himfelf in my good opinion by gain- 
 ing yours. 
 
 I am glad that you are pleafed with my Perfian Letters, 
 and Criticifm upon Voltaire ; but, with fubmiflion to your 
 judgement, I do not fee how what I have faid of Milton 
 can deftroy all poetical Licence. That term has indeed 
 been fo much abufed, and the liberty it allows has been 
 pleaded in defence of fuch extravagant fictions, that one 
 would almoft wim there were no fuch words. But yet 
 this is no reafon why good authors may not raife and ani- 
 mate their works with flights and falltes of imagination, 
 provided they are cautious of reftraining them within the 
 K k bounds
 
 4 o8 LETTE.RSTO 
 
 bounds of juftnefs and propriety ; for nothing can licenfe a 
 poet to offend againft Truth andReafon, which areas rnu 
 the rules of the fublime as lets exalted poettf. We meet 
 with a houfand inftances of the true noblcnefs of thought in 
 where the liberty you contend for ,s made uie o , 
 
 w^ere he boldnefs of his genius appears without (hocking 
 us wth the leaft impropriety: we are iurpnzed we are 
 warmed, we are tranfported ; but we are not harried out 
 of our fenfes, or forced to believe impoffibi ities. The fix* 
 book is I fear, in many places, an exception to this rule , 
 
 SSS not founded upon truth : but ^how d o f words and- 
 coats of maiU and cannons, agree with angels ? Such a fie* 
 tion cancer be beautiful, becaufe it wants probability to 
 Cnort i" We can eaftly imagine the Cape, extending its 
 
 < Numen esrit."--'- 
 
 The liberty in one fable is reftrained to. nature and good: 
 Sfe in tl other it is wild and unbounded fo *$* 
 to lofe fight of both.-Pardon the freedom I have : taken, tc 
 contrndift your opinion, and defend my own ; for I 
 be ve' v ready to gfve it up to you, if after this you continue 
 to thinl met th'e wrongf It is prudent to argue with that 
 who have fuch regard to our judgement as " correQ .\ t. - 
 You ended a letter of good news very ill, in telling nv 
 
 you 
 
 I.F.TTEI
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 499 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 D E A R SIR, Calais, April 29. 
 
 E H O L D the promifed poem ! 
 PARENT of arts, &c.* 
 
 I cannot recollect the tendernefs you mewed to me at 
 parting, without the warmed fentiments of gratitude and 
 duty to you. In reply to our long difcourfe, I only beg 
 leave to fay, that there is a certain degree of folly excufable 
 in youth, which I have never yet exceeded, and beyond 
 which I defire no pardon. I hope my dear mother has dried 
 her tears : my duty to her. I will write to you both when 
 I come to Luneviile. I am, 
 
 Your very dutiful and obedient fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Luneville, May 13. 
 
 TH E inclofed is in anfwer to Sir Robert Walpole from 
 Monfieur le Prince de Craon, who has fhewn me all 
 | the favour and civility that I might expect from To powerful 
 a recommendation. The duke himfelf was pleafed to tell 
 i me, that he would endeavour to render my day here as a- 
 : greeable to me as poflible. You will let Sir Robert Wal- 
 i pole know how much I am obliged to his letter ; and do 
 | juftice to Prince Craon, who has expreft his regard to it in 
 [ the ftrongeft manner, and by a kindnefs which I cannot 
 i enough acknowledge. I hope every thing goes on to your 
 I fatisfa&ion in the affair I left you engaged in.. ' It will be 
 I the greated happinefs to me to hear that you are pleafed 
 t and in good health. I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your mod dutiful foHj 
 
 " To Sir ROBERT WALPOLE. 
 
 "MONSIEUR, LuneviHe, May 13. 
 
 " J'ay re9u par Monfieur Lyttleton la lettre dont vous 
 m'honorez. Je tacheray de repondre a ce que vous fou- 
 
 * This poem is omitted here ; it being already printed, p. 446. 
 K k 2, haitez
 
 500 LETTERSTO 
 
 " haitez de moi, en lui procurant ici, aupres de fon Alteffe 
 " Royalle, les agreements dus a fa naiffance et a votre re- 
 " commendation ; et je m'en report au fidel compte, qu il 
 " vous en rendra. Rien n'eft plus flatteur pour moi, Mon- 
 fieur que le fouvenir de Milord Walpole. Je n ay per- 
 du aucune occafion de me renouveller dans fes bonnes 
 " graces depuis fon retour en Angleterre ; et j ay charge 
 tous mes amis qui y ont paffe de me menager une amitie 
 qui m'eft fi precieufe. Accordez la votre, Monfieur, 
 " au defir que j'ay de la meriter, et a 1'attachement avec le- 
 " quelj'ai r'honneur d'etre, 
 
 " Votre tres humble et tres 
 
 Obeiffant ferviteur, 
 
 " Le Prince CRAON." 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Luneyille, June 8, 1728. 
 
 I HE A R T I L Y congratulate you upon my fitter's mar- 
 riage, and wiih you may difpofe of all your children as 
 much to your fatisfaaion and their own. Would to God 
 Mr P had a fortune equal to his brother's, that he might 
 make a prefent of it to my pretty little M- ! but unhappily 
 they have neither of them any portion but an uncommon 
 {hare of merit, which the world will not think them much 
 the richer for. I condole with poor Mrs - upon the abrupt 
 departure of her intended hufbartd : to be fure fhe takes it 
 much to heart ; for thclofs of an only lover, when a lady 
 is paft three and twenty, is as affii&ing as the lofs of an only 
 child after fifty-five. 
 
 You tell me my mother defires a particular journal of my 
 travels, and the remarks I have made upon them, after the 
 manner of the fage Mr. Bromley. Alas ! I am utterly unfit 
 Tor fo great a work ; my genius is light and fuperficial, and 
 lets flip a thoufandobfervations which would make a figure 
 in his boot/ It requires much induftry and application, as 
 well as a prodigious memory, to know .how many houfes 
 there there are: ,n Paris; how many veftments in a proceffi 
 on; how many faints in the Romifh Calendar, and how 
 many miracles to each faint : and yet 40 fuch a pitch of ex- 
 aanefs the curious travellers muft arrive, who would imi- 
 tate Mr. Bromley. Not to mention the r ams he mufl : he : a. 
 in examining all the tombs in a ? :cat church, and faitntulU 
 tranfcribing the infcriptlons, .thouph they had no better au- 
 thor than the fexton or 'curate of the partfh. t or m> r^ rl
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 501 
 
 I was fo fhamefully negligent as not to fet down how many 
 crofles are in the road from Calais to Luneville 5 nay I did 
 not fo much as take an inventory of the relicks in the churches 
 I went to fee. You may judge by this what a poor account 
 I mall give you of my travels, and how ill the money is be- 
 llowed that you fpend upon them. But, however, if my 
 dear mother infifts upon it, I mail have fo much complai- 
 fance for the curiofity natural to her fex, as to write her 
 a fhort particular of what rarities I have feen ; but of all 
 ordinary fpeftacles, fuch as miracles, raree-fhows, and the 
 like, I beg her permiffion to be filent. I am, dear Sir, 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Luneville, July 21. 
 
 I Thank you for fo kindly forgiving the piece of negligence 
 I acquainted you of in my laft. Young fellows are often 
 guilty of voluntary forgetfulnefs in thofe affairs : but I aflure 
 you, mine was quite accidental. Mr. D tells you true, 
 that I am weary of lofing money at cards ; but it is no lefs 
 certain, that without them I mail foon be weary of Lorrain. 
 The fpirit of quadrille has pofleft the land from morning to 
 midnight ; there is nothing elfe in every houfe in town. 
 
 This Court is fond of Grangers, but with a provifo that 
 ftrangers love quadrille. Would you win the hearts of the 
 maids of honour, you muft lofe your money at quadrille ; 
 would you be thought a well-bred man, you muft play gen- 
 teelly at quadrille ; would you get a reputation of good fenfe, 
 mew judgement at quadrille : however, in fummer, one 
 may contrive to pafs a day without quadrille ; becaufe there 
 are agreeable promenades, and little parties out of doors ; 
 but in the winter you are reduced to play at it, or fleep like 
 a fly till f the return of fpring. Indeed in the morning the 
 duke hunts ; but my malicious ftars have fo contrived it, 
 that I am no more a fportfman than a gamefter. There are 
 no men of learning in the whole country ; on the contrary, 
 it is a character they defpife. A man of quality caught me 
 the other day reading a Latin author ; and aflced me with an 
 air of contempt, whether I was defigned for the church. All 
 this would be tolerable, if I was not doomed to converfe 
 with a fet of Englifh who are ftill more ignorant than the 
 French ; and from whom, with my utmoft endeavours, I 
 
 cannot be abfent fix hours in the day. Lord is the 
 
 K k 3 only
 
 502 L, E T T E R S TO 
 
 only one among them who has common fenfc ; and he is io 
 fcandaloufly debauched in his principles, as well as practice, 
 that his conversation is equally (hocking to my morals and 
 
 My onlv improvement here is in the company of the 
 duke and prince Craon, and in the exercife of the academy : 
 I have been abfent from the laft near three weeks, by reafon 
 of a fprain I got in the fmews of my leg, which is not 
 quite recovered. My duty to my dear mother ; I hope 
 vou and me continue well. I am, Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Luneville, Auguft 18. 
 
 I Wrote to you laft poft, and have fince received yours of 
 the 20th: your complaints pierce my heart. Alas, bir, 
 what pain muft it give me to think that my improvement 
 puts you to any degree of inconvenience ; and perhaps, al- 
 ter all, I may return and not anfwer your expeaations. 
 This thought gives me fo much uneafinels, that I am ready 
 to wifh you would recall me, and fave the charge of travel- 
 ling: but, no; the world would judge perverfcly, and blame 
 you for U : I muft go on, and you muft fupport me like 
 
 y Thave'obferved with extreme affliaion how much your 
 temper is altered of late, and your cheartulnefs of mind im- 
 paired. My heart has aked within me, when I have feen 
 you giving "yourfelf up to a melancholy diffidence, whicn 
 makes you fear the worft in every thing, and fcldom indulge 
 thofe pleafing hopes which fupport and nourilh us O, my 
 dear Sir, how happy mall I be, if I am able to reftore you 
 to your former gaiety! People that knew you Come years 
 ago fay, that you were the rrrcft chearful man alive Ho* 
 much beyond the pofleffion of any miftreis will be the r ea- 
 fure I mall experience, if, by marrying well, I can mak< 
 you fuch once more ! This is my wifh, my ambition tt 
 prayer I make to heaven as often as I think on my tutu, 
 fife. But, alas ! I hope for it in vain if vou fuffer your cares 
 and inquietudes to deftroy your health : what "*U "1 
 good intentions, if they are fruftrated by your death Yov 
 till leave this world without ever knowing whether the pro- 
 -mifes of your fon were the language of a grateful heart, or 
 the Ivin* proteftations of a hypocrite : God in heaven tor-
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 503 
 
 bid it ftiould be fo ! may he preferve your health and prolong 
 your days, to receive a thouiand proofs of the lading love 
 and duty of the raofl obliged of children ! We are all bound 
 to you, Sir, and will, I trufl, repay it in love and honour 
 of you. Let this fupport and comfort you, that you are 
 the father of ten children, among whom there feems to be 
 but one foul of love and obedience to you. This is a folid, 
 real good, which you will feel and enjoy when other plea- 
 fures have loft their tafte : your heart will be warmed by 
 it in old age, and you will find yourfelf richer in thefe trea- 
 fures than in the pofleflion of all you have fpent upon us. I 
 talk, Sir, from the fulnefs of my heart, and it is not the 
 ft) le of a diflembler. Do not, my dear Sir, fuffer melan- 
 choly to gain too far upon you : think lefs of thofe circum- 
 ftances which difquiet you, and rejoice in the many others 
 which ought to gladden you : confider the reputation you 
 have acquired, the glorious reputation of integrity, fo un- 
 common in this age ! imagine that your pofterity will look 
 upon it as the nobleft fortune you can leave them, and that 
 your children's children will be incited to virtue by your ex- 
 ample. I don't know, Sir, whether you feel this j I am 
 fure I do, and glory in it. Are you not happy in my dear 
 mother ? was ever wife fo virtuous, fo dutiful, fo fond ? 
 There is no fatisfaftion beyond this, and I know you have a 
 perfect fenfe of it. AH thefe advantages well weighed, will 
 make your misfortunes light ; and, I hope, the pleafure ari- 
 fing from them will difpel that cloud which hangs upon you 
 and finks your fpirits. I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Luneville, Sept. 18. 
 
 I Thank you for giving me leave to go to Soiflbns ; it is 
 true, I have great mind to the journey ; and as to my 
 health, I have always found, that whatever pleafes me does 
 me good. You will laugh at the regimen, but I appeal to 
 Mifs P whether the fight of Stowe gardens ha4 not a bet- 
 ter effect upon her than all the drugs in Burges's fhop. My 
 fpirits were very low when I writ you my laft letter, and I 
 had not judgement enough then to confider that the way to, 
 relieve your melancholy was to appear chearful myfelf ; 
 however, I beg you to believe that what I faid was the lan- 
 guage of my heart, though it needed not have been faid with 
 K k 4 fo
 
 504 L E T T E R S T O 
 
 fo much warmth. I moft fincerely love you, and cannc 
 help being deeply affe&eti at your leafl complaint. But don't 
 let this deprive me of your confidence, for I have no greater 
 pleafure ?n life than feeing myfelf honoured with it. 
 
 I am frighted at the ficknefs in Worceftermire ; pray God 
 preferve you and your whole family ! Such is the prayer of, 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful and obedient fon, 
 
 G. L, 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Soiflbns, Oa. 28. 
 
 I Thank you, my dear Sir, for complying fo much with 
 my inclinations, as to let me ftay fome time at Soiflbns ; 
 but, as you have not fixed how long, I wait for further or- 
 ders. One of my chief reafons for difliking Luneville, was 
 the multitude pf Engliih there, who moft of them were 
 fuch worthlefs fellows, that they were a difhonour to the 
 name and nation. With thefe I was obliged to dine and 
 lup, and pafs a great part of my time. 
 
 You may be Jure I avoided it as much as poflible ; but, 
 malgre moi, I fuffered a great deal. To prevent any com- 
 fort from other people, they had made a law among them- 
 felves not to admit any foreigner into their company ; fo that 
 there was nothing but Englifli talked from June to January. 
 On the contrary, my countrymen at Soiflbns are men of 
 virtue and good fenle ; they mix perpetually with the French, 
 and converfe for the moft part in that language. I will trou- j 
 ble you no more upon this fubjeft ; but give me leave to fay, j 
 that, however capricious I may have been in other things, 
 my fentiments in this particular are the fureft proofs I ever 
 gave you of my ftrong and hereditary averfion to vice and 
 folly. Mr. Stanhope is always at Fontainbleau. I went with 
 Mr. Poyntx to Paris for four days, when the colonel was 
 there to meet him : he received me with great civility andj 
 kindnefs. We have done expecting Mr. Walpole, who is, 
 obliged to keep ftrict guard over the cardinal', for fear the! 
 German minifters mould take him from us : they pull and! 
 haul the poor old gentleman fo many ways, that he does not 
 know where to turn, or into whofe arms to throw himfelf. , 
 
 Ripperda's efcape to England will very much embroil af-J 
 fairs, which did not Ccem to want another obftacle to hinder 
 them from coming to an accommodation. If the devil is not 
 very much wanting to his own interefts in this bufmefs, 'tiij 
 
 impofliblt
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 505 
 impoflible that the good work of peace fhould go on much 
 longer. After all, moft young fellows are of his party, and 
 wifh he may bring matters to a war ; for they make but ill 
 minifters at a congrefs, but would make good foldiers in a 
 campaign. 
 
 No news from and her beloved hufband : their un- 
 
 reafonable fondnefs for each other can never laft ; they will 
 foon grow as cold to one another as the town to the Beggar's 
 Opera. Pray heaven I may prove a falie prophet ! but 
 married love, andEnglim mufick, are too domeftick to con- 
 tinue long in favour. 
 
 My duty to my dear mother ; I am glad me has no com- 
 plaint. You fay nothing relating to your own health, which 
 makes me hope you are well. I as fondly love my brothers 
 afld fitters as if I was their parent. 
 
 There is no need of my concluding with a handfome pe- 
 riod ; you are above forced efforts of the head. I mail 
 therefore end this letter with a plain truth of the heart, 
 that I am, 
 
 Your moft affectionate and dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Soiflbns, Nov. 20. 
 
 THIS is one of the agreeableft towns in France. The 
 people are infinitely obliging to ftrangers. We are 
 of all their parties, and perpetually mare with them in their 
 pleafures. I have learnt more French fince I came here, 
 than I mould have picked up in a twelvemonth at Lorrain.. 
 The defire of a further progrefs and improvement in that 
 tongue, has led me into fome thoughts relating to the conti- 
 nuation of my travels, which I beg leave to lay before you. 
 
 If you fend me to Italy next fpring, as you once defignecl 
 to do, one great inconvenience will arife, viz,, that before I 
 am perfect in fpeaking French, I muft apply myfelf to Itali- 
 an, from which it may probably come to pafs that I mall 
 not know much of either. I mould, therefore, think it 
 more for my advantage to make the tour of France, before 
 I fet out for Italy, than after I come back. 
 
 There is another reafon, which at leaft will weigh with 
 my dear mother ; that is, that after the month of May, when 
 the violent heats begin, Rome (where it will be neceflary 
 to fettle firft, upon account of the purity of the language, 
 which is fpoke corruptly in other places) is fo unwholefome 
 
 a*
 
 506 LETTERSTO 
 
 as to endanger the life of any foreigner unaccuftomed to , 
 that air ; and therefore nioft travellers go thither about Sep- j 
 tember, and leave it towards April. 1 fancy theie two ob- j 
 jeaions to the foregoing fcheme will incline you rather to , 
 give into mine, which is as follows : fuppofe I ftay here till 
 after February, 1 may in March, April, May, and June, 
 lee Orleans, Lions, and Bourdeaux, and pafs July, Auguft, , 
 and September, in the fouthern provinces. The air of thole 
 countries is fo pure, that the greateft heats, do nobody any 
 harm. From Provence to Genoa is the fhorteft road I can . 
 take for Italy, and fo through Tufcany to Rome, where I 
 (hall arrive about December, having feen what is curious 
 in my way. 
 
 I may pafs two months at Rome, and go trom tnen< 
 Naples, the moft delightful part of Italy, and the fineft air; 
 allowing me three months in that country, I may take a lit- 
 tle voyage to Medina, and from thence to Malta, which 
 lies juft by. From Naples I may travel along the coafts of 
 the Adtiatick fea, by Ancona and Loretto, to Venice, 
 where, if I ftay but to the end of July, I mall have Auguft, 
 September, and Oaober, to fee Padua, Verona, Milan,, 
 and the other parts of Italy that lie N. W. of the Venetian! 
 gulph. In the winter I may fettle at Sienna, where there) 
 is a crood academy, and where they are not troubled witH 
 any Enzlim. From thence I may go to Turin, if you pleafej 
 and ftay there till April. After which, to avoid returning 
 through Provence a fecond time, I may go by Lausanne 
 and B D erne to Tranche Compte, and fo by Dijon to 1 ans, 
 When I am there, it will be wholly in your breaft how long 
 you would have me ftay abroad, and whether I fhoulq 
 come home the ftorteft way, or have the plcahire of | 
 ing Holland. This, Sir, is the plan that I offer to youj 
 which I hope you will approve ot in the main, and agre& 
 to for me. I do not pretend to have laid it fo exad as neve 
 to depart from it; but am perfuaded that, generally fpcakmg 
 I (hall find it agreeable and commodious. I have not broughi 
 Lorrain into it, becaufe it lies quite out of the way, anj 
 becaufe (to fay the truth) I am unwilling to go thither; 
 I know, my dear Sir, I mould acquaint you with my rea 
 fons for the diflike I have exprefied againft that place. Thi 
 is not fo eafy an ei -laird foment as you may think it. Ou 
 notions of places and of perfons depend upon a combmati 
 of circumftance?, many of which arc in themfelves minuM 
 but have weight from their affcmblage with the r.ft. Uu 
 minds are like our bodies ; they owe their pain or pleafui
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 507 
 
 > the good or ill aflbrtment of a thoufand caufes, each of 
 rhich is a trifle by itfelf. How fmall and imperceptible 
 re the qualities in the air, or foil, or climate, where we 
 we ; and yet how fenfible are the impreffions they make 
 ipon us, and the delights or uneafinefs which they cre- 
 Ee ! So it is with our minds, from the little accidents that 
 pncur to footh or to diforder them. But in both, the im- 
 Ireflions are more ftrong as the frames which they at upon 
 Ire more delicate and refined. I muft therefore impute 
 lany of my complaints to the natural delicacy of my tem- 
 jer, and I natter myfelf you will not think that reafon the 
 rorft I could have given you. But there are others more 
 fcrofs and evident, which I have already in part informed 
 ou of, and which I mail here fet forth more at large. 
 j It is natural for us to hate the fchool in which we take the 
 jrft leflons of any art. The reafon is, that the aukward- 
 efs we have (hewn in fuch beginnings, leflens us in the 
 [yes of people there, and the difadvantageous prejudice it 
 as given of us is never quite to be got over. 
 , : Luneville was my fchool of breeding, and I was there 
 here unavoidably fubjeft to quelques bevues d'ecolier, as the 
 oliteffe pra&ifed in that place is fuller of ceremony than 
 Ifewhere, and has a good deal peculiar to itfelf. 
 ' The memory of thefe miftakes, though loft perhaps in 
 tthers, hangs upon my mind when I am there, and depreff- 
 rs my fpirits to fuch a degree, that I am not like rnyfelf. 
 Mnc is never agreeable in company, where one fears too 
 nuch to be difapproved ; and the very notion of being ill 
 'eceived, has as bad an effect upon our gaiety as the thing 
 "tfelf. This is the firft and ftrongeft reafon, why I defpair 
 j >f being happy in Lorrain. I have already complained of 
 he foppifh ignorance and contempt for all I have been taught 
 o value, that is fo fafhionable there. You have heard me 
 lefcribe the greater part of the Englim I knew there, in 
 colours that ought to make you fear the infection of fuch 
 :ompany for your fon. 
 
 1 But luppofing no danger in this brutal unimproving focie- 
 y, it is no little grievance ; for to what barbarous infults 
 Iocs it cxpofe our morals and underftanding? A fool, with 
 H majority on his fide, is the greateft tyrant in the world. 
 Oon't imagine, dear Sir, that I am fetting up for a reform- 
 r of mankind, becaufe I exprefs fome impatience at 
 he folly and immorality of my acquaintance. I am far 
 rom expecting they mould all be wits, much lefs phi- 
 'ofophers. My own weaknefles are too well Jcnown to me, 
 
 not
 
 508 LETTERSTO 
 
 not to prejudice me in favour of other people's, when thej 
 go but to a certain point. There are extravagancies thail 
 have always an excuic > ibmetimes a grace, attending themf 
 Youth is agreeable in its fallies, and would lofe its beaut) 
 it it looked too grave ; but a reafonable head, and an ho-' 
 neit heart, are never to be difpenfed with. Not that I an 
 fo fevere upon Luneville and my Englifh friends, as to pre 
 tend there are not men of merit and good fenfe amonj 
 them. There are fome undoubtedly ; but all I know ar 
 uneaiy at rinding themielves in fuch ill company. I (haS 
 trouble you no farther upon this head ; if you enter int: 
 my way of thinking, what I have faid will be enough : :| 
 you don't, all I can fay will have no effect. I mould ncl 
 have engaged in this long detail, but that I love to open mj 
 heart to you, and make you the confident of all my thoughta 
 Till I have the honour and happinefs of convcrfing with yo,i 
 in a nearer manner, indulge me, dear Sir, in this diftaii 
 way of conveying my notions to you ; and let me talk ti 
 you as I would to my deareft friend, without awe, correct] 
 nefs, or referve. Though I have taken up fo much of yoil 
 time before, I cannot help giving myfelf the pleafure of a<|i 
 quainting you of the extraordinary civilities I receive frofl 
 Mr. Poyntz. He has in a manner taken me into hisfamiln 
 I have the honour of his converfation at all hours, and 1 
 delights to turn it to my improvement. He was fo good fi 
 to defire me to afk your leave to pafs the winter with hir 
 and, to encourage me to do it, promiftd me that I fhourj 
 not be without my (hare of public bufinefs. The firft paq?- 
 et that comes from Fountainbleau I ex peel to be employe, f 
 which is no fmall pleafure to me, and will, I hope, bell 
 fervice. 
 
 Don't you think, Sir, it would be proper for you to writ 
 to Mr. Poyntz, to thank him for the honours he has dofcjfi 
 me^ and defire him to excule it, if his civilities make rf& 
 troublefomc to him longer than you defigned ? You knc' it 
 fo well how to do thofe things, that I am periuadcdl 
 would have a good effet. 
 
 The only news I have to tell you, is a fecret intelligent 
 from Vienna, that count Zinzendorff is going out of favov;.i 
 this is of confequence to the negotiations, but you muft ijt i 
 mention it : while I am not trufted with affairs, you (am 
 know all I hear, but afterwards nil patri quidem. I 4fe] 
 faying to Mr. Poyntz, that Ripperda was undoubtedly vM 
 happy to come out of pr'tfon into the land of liberty ; *' 
 
 n pli',
 
 !SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 509 
 .plied, that whatever the duke might think, he was in 
 fenger of going to prifon again. 
 
 i'l This was faid fome time ago, and things may have alter- 
 I fince. I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. L. 
 L E T T E R X. . 
 
 P EAR SIR, Soiflbns, Dec. 20. 
 
 ltf\ Sudden order to Mr. Poyntz has broke afl my mea- 
 f\. lures. He goes to-morrow to Paris, to ftay there in 
 Be room of Meflis. Stanhope and Walpole, who are on 
 
 ieir return for England. His Excellency is fo kind and 
 K>od as to defire me to accompany him to Paris, and live 
 lere enfamille, at leaft till I hear from you. As the ex- 
 Ifcnce will not be great, having the convenience of his ta- 
 le ; and as a winter journey to Lorrain is impracticable ; 
 Knave ventured to take this ftep without your orders. It is 
 pith me as it is with embaffadors, who, though ever fp 
 fdirous of keeping clofe to the letter of their instructions, 
 f'e fometimes obliged to act without them, and follow their 
 |Mm judgement without confulting their fuperiors. The 
 |"opofal of being let info bufmefs, and the advantage of Mr. 
 I oyntz, r s converfation, makes me very unwilling to quit him 
 few, when I begin to know him more intimately, and to 
 I -in his confidence. I have already copied fome papers for 
 i m, and don't doubt but he will continue to employ me. 
 M have troubled you 'fo often with Ripperda, that I am 
 I moft afhamed to mention him again ; but the" conclufive 
 j ifwer of Mr. Stanhope to the duke of Ormond, and the 
 | .her Spanifh rhinifters, was, that when Spain would give 
 
 ^ the Englifh rebels, England would fend back Ripperda. 
 '| : Prince Frederick's journey was very fecret ; Mr. Poyntr 
 Jjd not hear of it till Friday laft ; at leaft he had no pub- 
 fe notice of it. There will be fine ftruggling for places. 
 
 hope my brother will come in for one. Adieu, Sir, Be- 
 
 :ve me always 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 tG. L. 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, Jan. 22, 1729. 
 
 }" HAVE fo much to thank you for/ that I have not 
 words to do it ; fo kind a compliance with all my wifhes 
 
 furpafles
 
 5io LETTERSTO 
 
 furpaffes my acknowledgement. Your two letters to Mr 
 Poyntz, had their effeft, and were anfwered with t 
 profufion of civilities, and marks of friendfhip and efleem : 
 but the inclofed will inftruft you better in the obligations] 
 have to you and him. How happy I am in your permifliqr 
 to quit Lorrain, you may judge by my letter on that head 
 I think you have miftaken my fenfe in ibme arguments mad< 
 ufe of there, but it is needlefs to fet you right. Your kind 
 nefs and indulgence to my defires, is an argument more per 
 fuafive than all the reft, and in which only I confide. 
 
 I have lately, Sir, fpent more than I could wifh, and th 
 neceflity of doing it gives me no fmall uneafinefs ; but it ij 
 an undoubted fact, that without mew abroad there is n] 
 improvement. You yourfelf confefs it, when you fay] 
 the French are only fond of ftrangers who have money tjj 
 pay them for their compliments. You exprefs a great unj 
 eafinefs for fear I mould grow fond of games of chance. ',; 
 have fometimes rifqued a little at them, but without an! 
 pafllon or delight. Gaming is too unreafonable and diihc 
 nefl for a gentleman, who has either fenfe or honour, t ; 
 addict himfelf to it; but, to fet you quite eafy in thd 
 point, I give you my word and honour, and defire no par ! 
 don if I recede from it, that I never will addift myfelf tj 
 this deftru&ive pafTion, which is fuch a whirlpool, that ; j 
 abforbs all others. It is true I have been a fufferer at quao j 
 rille, arid muft even fuffer on, for point de fociete fans celc } 
 f*eft un article preliminaire a tout commerce avec lc beau tnond ? 
 I may venture to affure you, that all thoughts of peace a: 
 not laid afide, as you apprehend. 
 
 I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. I > 
 
 LETTER XII. " 
 
 "SIR, Paris, Jan. 22, 172' 
 
 IH A V E received your two kind letters, in which 
 are pleafed very much to over-value the fmall civil 
 it has lain in my power to mew Mr. Lyttelton. I have 
 reafon to thank you, Sir, for giving me fo convincing a 
 of your regard, as to interrupt the courfe of his travel 
 my account, which will lay me under a double obliga 
 to do all I can towards making his ftay agreeable and uf 
 to him ; though I mall ftill remain the greater gaim 
 the pleafure of his company, which no fcrvices of mine 
 
 fufficit
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 511 
 
 fufficiently requite. He is now in the fame houfe with me, 
 and by that means more conftantly under my eye than even 
 ,at Soiflbns ; but I fhould be very unjuft to him, if I left 
 :you under the imagination, that his inclinations ftand in the 
 leaft need of any fuch ungenerous reftraint. Depend upon 
 ,it, Sir, from the observation of one who would abhor to 
 deceive a father in fo tender a point, that he retains the lame 
 ^virtuous and ftudious difpofitions, which nature and your 
 Scare planted in him, only ftrengthened and improved by age 
 and experience ; fo that, I dare promife you, the bad ex- 
 jamples of Paris, or any other place, will never have any 
 Bother effect upon him, but to confirm him in the right 
 [choice he has made. Under thefe happy circumftances he 
 lean have little occafion for any other advice, but that of 
 Ifuftaining the character he has fo early got, and of fupport- 
 jing the hopes he has raifed. I wilh it were in my power to 
 do him any part of the fervice you fuppofe me capable of. 
 II fhall not be wanting, to employ him, as occafion offers, 
 and, to aflift him with my advice where it may be necefia- 
 .'ry, though your cares (which he ever mentions with the 
 .greateft gratitude) have made this tafk very eafy. He can- 
 ;not fail of making you and himfelf happy, and of being a 
 great ornament to our country, if, with that refined tafte 
 and delicacy of genius, he can but recall his mind, at a pro- 
 per age, from the pleafures of learning, and gay fcenes of 
 'imagination, to the dull road and fatigue of bufmefs. This 
 I have ibmetimes taken the liberty to hint to him, though 
 ijhis own good judgement made it very unneccflary. 
 
 Though I have only the happinefs of knowing you, Sir, 
 by your reputation, and by this common object of our 
 fricndfhip and affections, your fon ; I beg you would be 
 perfuaded that I am, with the moft particular refpect, Sir, 
 Your moft humble, and obedient fervant, 
 
 S. POYNTZ." 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 ; DEAR SIR, Pans, Feb. 1729. 
 
 IM A D E your compliments to Mr. Poyntz, as hand- 
 fomely as I could, and read him that part of your letter, 
 where you leave it to his determination, how long I {hall 
 'ftay with him, provided it be no ways inconvenient. He 
 affured me, with the fame obliging air of fincerity and 
 goodnefs as you are charmed with in his letter* that it was 
 mot in the leaft fo ; and that my company again at Soiflbns 
 
 would
 
 512 LET TERS TO 
 
 would be the greateft relief and pleafure to him ; with ma- 
 ny other kind exprefllons, which you would be glad to 
 hear, but which I Can't repeat. I have a thoufand thanks 
 to Day YOU, Sir, for fo kindly preventing my defires, and con- 
 tinuing me in the pofferTion of a happinefs which I was 
 afraid was almoft at an end. The time I Ipend with Mr. 
 Poyntx is certainly the moft agreeable, as well as the moft 
 improving, part of my life. He is a fecond father to me, 
 aTiTis m his fociety that I am leaft fenfible of the want 
 
 f / find' you are uneafy at the fituation the king's fpeech 
 has left us in ; but depend upon it, notwithftandmg the lit 
 tie triumph that the enemies of the government may mew 
 upon the prefent feeming uncertainty of artairs, they ; will 
 be concluded to their confufion, and to the honour ot t 
 councils they oppofe. The greateft ttifchief that has been 
 'done us, and which perhaps you are not ienfiblc ot, was by 
 the number of difarTeded papers, full ot talfe and mahci- 
 cious infinuations, which, being tranflated and Ihewn to 
 foreign minifters, unacquainted with the enity of our con- 
 ftitution, and the liberty of fcandal it allows, made them 
 think that the nation would difavow the meafures taken by 
 he court, and were the principal caufe of the delays and 
 difficulties that retard the public peace. The vigorous 
 rcfolutions of both houfes to fupport his niajefty m hi 
 councils, will, no doubt, undeceive them, and contribute 
 very much to bring affairs to that decifion we defire. Adieu, 
 my dear Sir ; and believe me to be 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. L.: 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, March n. 
 
 THE affair of the Gofport man of war has railed a 
 moft extravagant fpint of refentment in the trench, 
 Thev talk of nothing lefs than hanging their own office, 
 and feem to expea that ours fhould come off as ill. I have 
 talked to his excellency about it : he fays, he has had nc 
 account of it from England ; but defires me to tel you, th 
 he is in hopes the French officer has made a falfe report :, 
 and that, if nothing very extraordinary has been done, a 
 the cafe muft have happened frequently, he (hould think 
 very proper that as many precedents as can be found ftiou 
 be colleaed and fent him over. He apprehends as much ,
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 513 
 
 ! you a popular declamation from th* Craftl'man on this un- 
 : lucky lubjet. The imbarkation you ipeak of is uncertain 
 i (as tar as I can know from him), and intended only to re- 
 inforce our garrilons ; perhaps there may be more in-ir, 
 which he does not think fit to truft me with, though I hard- 
 ly imagine fo; becaufe I have fuch marks of his confidence, 
 as convince me he does not doubt of my difcretion. 
 
 Love to my brother ; I dare fay he will be a gainer 
 
 in the end of this warm action, though it happened to be- 
 ill-timed. I am glad the young fellow has fo much of thfc 
 
 martial fpirit in him. What you tell me of amazes 
 
 me. I fhall obey your advice, in being cautious how I 
 think any man my friend too foon ; fince he, whofe affec- 
 tion I was fo lure of, has fo injurioufly convinced me of my 
 jjmiftake. I confefs I thought malice or ill-nature as great 
 ftrangers to him as to poor : but what are the judge- 
 ments of young men ? Indeed, my dear Sir, we are verjf 
 | f filly fellows. 
 
 I can't help tranfcribing a few lines of my filler's letter* 
 of the loth, to (hew you, that your goodnefs to your chil* 
 dren meets at leaft with a grateful return : 
 
 " We mould pafs our time but ill, if the good humour 
 I 1 " of my mother did not make us all chearful, and make 
 [;" amends for the lofs of thofe diverfions which London 
 would afford us. The oftener I converfe with her, the 
 more I love her ; and every one of her actions mews 
 me a virtue I wifh to imitate. This you muft be fenfi- 
 ble of, as well as I ; but there is fuch a pleafure in 
 praifing thole we love, that I mull dwell a little upon 
 the fubjeft, which, I dare fay, will be as grateful to 
 you as it is to me. How happy are we with fuch pa- 
 ' rents ! When I fee my father almoft fpent with the cares 
 of his family ; my dear mother confined here for the 
 good of her children ; I'm overpowered with gratitude 
 " and love ! May you and they continue well ! and I want 
 :" nothing elfe to compleat my happinefs." This, Sir> is 
 fl. faithful extract, and fpcaks the language of all our 
 hearts. Adieu, dear Sir, 
 
 I remain, &c. 
 
 G. L. 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Haute Fontaine, near Soiflbns, May 27. 
 
 IH AV E letters from my lord and his governor, 
 in which they both exprefs the higheft fenfe of the- 
 L I friendOSip
 
 5H LETTERSTO 
 
 friendfhip you have fhewn them, and acknowledge the ad- 
 vantages they owe to.it ; my lord, particularly, is charmed 
 with the good-natured fervice you did his relation, and 
 fpeaks of it as the greateft obligation. My friend Ay fcough 
 too boafts of your proteaion, and profefles that veneration ; 
 for your charader, that it makes me proud of being your 
 ion It is now my duty to return you thanks tor all tneie ta; 
 vours, beftowed on others, and meant to me ; and I do it 
 with all the pleafure of a grateful mind, which hnds itie 
 honoured in the obligation. I believe there is no young man 
 alive, who has more happinefs to boaft of than myfelf* 
 being bleffed with a found constitution, affectionate rntnus, 
 and an eafy fortune ; but of all my advantages, there is none 
 of which I have lo deep a fenfe, as the truft and amiable, 
 harmony between the beft of fathers and myfelf. 
 
 This is fo much the dearer to me, as indeed it is the lourc 
 bf all the reft, and as it is not to be loft by misfortune, bi 
 dependant upon my own behaviour, and annexed to virtue, 
 honour, and reputation. lam perfuadcd that no weakneff- 
 es or failings, which do not injure them will occafion the 
 withdrawing of it from me ; and therefore I confider it * 
 iecure, becaufel have ufed my mind to look upon diftionef-i 
 ty and fhame as ftrangers it can never be acquainted withd 
 iuch an opinion is not vanity, but it is fettmg thofe two thing: 
 at a neceffary diftance from us ; for it is certain, that t 
 allowing a poffibility of our ading wickedly ormeanl), i, 
 really making the firft ftep towards it I have received man;: 
 civilities from Mr. Stanhope, who is here with Mr 1 oynU 
 Mr Walnole has invited me to Compiegne, where I am go 
 ing for two or three days. Affairs are now almoft at a cr 
 and there is great realon to exped they will take a ha PP 
 turn Mr. W has a furprifing influence over the c , 1 
 that,' whether peace or war enfue, we may depend upon ou 
 ally. In truth, it is the intereft of the Wench court iob : 
 faithful to their engagements, though it may not entirely b 
 the nation's. Emulation of trade m.ght mclmc t he i copU. 
 wifli the bond that ties them to us were broke ; but the me j 
 cantile intereft has at no time been much "^ d ^ 
 court. If you refled upon the apprchenfions ot the gover 
 ment from the fide of Spain, and their very rea Jonabk : 
 loufy of the emperor, you will not wonder at their mana* 
 ing Jhe friendfliip, and adhering to the alliance, o Ore 
 Britain. The fuppbfition, that prcfcnt advantage is the fM 
 and end of rtat/cng.gcmcnts, ,,d that they are on y to 
 meafured by that rule, is the toundationot all ouriu.mcio
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON 5 i s 
 ^'"^ the A , firmnefs of our French ally. But the maxim is 
 not juft. Much ,5 given to future hopes, and much obtl- 
 ed by future fears; and fecurity is, upon many occauon", 
 fought preferably to gam. I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Haute Fontaine, near Soiffons, July 6- 
 
 ^HE kind anfwer you made to my lafl was as great an 
 addition to my happinefs as any I could poffibly re- 
 ceive. You feern very uneafy as to public affairs : and, in- 
 leed, confidermg the many inward and domeftic calamities 
 we are afflided with, I cannot fay but you have reafon. I 
 hope, however, to be able very Ihortly to fend you fome 
 news, that will raife your fpirits ; for every thing is brought 
 to a cnfis ; and, without fome unforefeen accident, we may 
 expea a happy conclufion. And now, Sir, as far as I dare, 
 1 will tell you the reafons for the confideoce which I have 
 expreft. Out of two and twenty millions of piaflres, that 
 the galleons brought home, the king of Spain's mare is but 
 MX, allowing him all pretenfions to dimes, droits d'entree, 
 c. and a moderate indulto. By the treaty of the Prado* 
 and other conventions, the indult is fixed to five per cent, in 
 :ime of war, as well as peace ; but, as he has been at extra- 
 ordinary charges in bringing of them home this year, the 
 ,negociants are willing to allow him thirteen or fourteen per 
 cent, m confideration of it. If he arbitrarily refolves to take 
 more, befides ruining his trade, which entirely ftands upon 
 
 B faith of thole conventions, he fofar exafperates France, 
 that he may depend upon their entering vigoroufly into a war 
 agamft him ; and even with that, he will not have half e- 
 nough to make good his engagements to the emperor ; no, 
 not even to pay his arrears. 
 
 It is, then, probable, that he will either break thofe en- 
 gagements, and fign a peace with us, or feize upon the 
 whole freight of the galleons ; in which cafe France would 
 
 id itfelf fo concerned as to be compelled to right itielf by 
 nrms, as principal in the quarrel, not a ally. 
 
 But as fuch a violence, fo contrary to treaties and to ths 
 [iterefls of Spain, would render the queen odious to the na- 
 ion, even though the war mould be carried on -with fuc- 
 e ^A 1 til 5 re i s great reafon to think me will not venture it, 
 the king's paffion for abdication, and the uncer- 
 
 L 1 2 tsintv
 
 5 i6 LETTERS T O 
 
 tainty her authority is in. I have ftill a farther rcafon to 
 hope we mall have peace, but it is not proper to mention 
 it. I mall only fay, that, as the queen's ambition tor tn 
 cftablifliment of her family was the foundation of the Vie: 
 na treaty, a juft fehfe of the difficulty, perhaps impoffibill- 
 ty, of obtaining it upon that plan, and a more eafy and rea- 
 fonablc one ctFcrcd to her, may reconcile her to the provi- 
 f.onal treaty After all, my dear Sir, I nuke no doubt but, 
 let things come out ever fo well, people will not want ob- 
 ieaions and complaints. Perfea.on is fo impoflible to be 
 attained, and we are fo apt to exped it, that it is in vain to 
 hope any meafures can be taken, that will meet with a ge- 
 neral approbation. The badnefs of the weather Icarcity of 
 corn, andeventheficklinefsof the times, are laid to the mi- 
 nirtry's charge-, and fo they would, if, inftead of making 
 alliance with France, we were now quarrying with it to 
 gratify the emperor. But you, I am Cure, will be fatisfied, it 
 by the negotiations here our trade and honour are fecured ; 
 and fo thSy will be, or we (hall adjourn to Flanders. His 
 excellency defires his humble fervice to you. I hope my 
 beloved mother is well. Pray my humble duty to her. And 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, C. 
 
 G. L. 
 
 The courier from Madrid is expeded in 
 five or fix days. 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, Auguft. 3 .; 
 
 AS the courier brings you this, and there is no danger oi 
 its being opened, I make no fcruple to acquaint yoc; 
 with all I know of the negotiations ; but only muft beg yoq 
 to take no notice of it to any body. 
 
 The queen of Spain has, as well from her own experienc 
 as the fkilful reprefentation from Mr. Keene, been madef 
 fenfible of the infmcerity of the emperor in the promifes h 
 has made her, and the little me could rely upon them, tha 
 (he is willing to throw herfelf, and all her interefts, into th 
 hands of England, provided that we, together with Franc 
 and Holland, would eugage to fecure the lucceflion of Tul 
 cany and Parma to don Carlos, by Spamfti garnfons to b 
 placed in them, or at leaft Swifs troops in the Spaniih pa. 
 This laft condition is contrary to the quadruple allianc 
 which provides for the fuccefiion of don Carlos to tho
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 517 
 cutchies ; but ftipulates that they (hall be held by neutral 
 garrifons. However, the allies of Hanover have thought fit 
 to grant it upon better terms, and to^guarantee the difpofi- 
 tion they have made againft any power who fliall oppole or 
 trouble it. It is the intereft of all Europe, that the fuc- 
 ceflion of thofe countries mould be fecured to Spain. The 
 emperor is too powerful already, and may become mafter of 
 the liberties of Italy, if he has not a neighbour in thofe ftates 
 who will be itrong enough to check him. The face of af- 
 fairs in Europe is much changed fince the quadruple alliance, 
 which was formed to prevent the mifchiefs which might 
 have enfued from the difference of the imperial court with 
 that of Spain ; whereas the treaty of Soiflbns has no other 
 end than to prevent the much greater ones that would arife 
 from their too clofe union. I mall not enquire whether, in the 
 former treaty, we did not compliment the emperor too far, 
 nor take notice how ill we have been requited ; but I am 
 fure we mall gain more by obliging Spain, and make the 
 balance more even. The only difficulty to be confidered is, 
 whether this ought to have been done without the emperor's 
 participation, or whether we can make good fuch a difpofi- 
 tion without endangering the peace. In regard to the firft, 
 it is certain, the imperial court has no reafon to expet any 
 confidence from the allies qf Hanover, after the many in- 
 ftances of infmcerity and mauvaife foi they have given us 
 during the whole courfe of the negociations, 
 ' We have very fure grounds to think, they have made the 
 fame propofals to the queen of Spain, for other purpofes, 
 without communicating it to us ; but is it likely Ihe would 
 accept it from their hands, rather than from ours, whofe 
 fincerity fhe has experienced, and who have power and 
 means to make good our engagements ? Had we acquainted 
 the emperor with our project, and fued him to come into it, 
 it would have been making him mafter of the negociations, 
 and thereby hazarded their being prolonged to what length 
 he pleafed, which, considering the juft impatience of theEn- 
 'glim nation, would have been worfe than concluding them 
 by a war with Spain. One with the emperor is little to be 
 feared, considering the formidable ftrength of -the alliance, 
 and the difficulties that prince lies under from the unfettled 
 1 ftate of the fucceflion. It is more pi'obable he will come into 
 peaceful meafures, as more conformable to his fituation and 
 ' the humour of his minifters, who are all of them averfe to 
 war. But it is undoubted, that our refufing the queen of 
 Spain her demands for don Carlos, would have forced her 
 L I 3 defperately
 
 518 LETTERSTO 
 
 defperately to clofe with the emperor's propofal, and enter 
 into any engagements for the interefts of her fon, to which 
 (as (he told Mr. Keene) (he had ftill more left to facrifice. 
 If we had provoked her to a war, we muft have fpent mil- 
 lions to obtain by force what this treaty gives us upon a con- 
 dition, which it is our intereft to grant. We expect a cou- 
 rier in a day or two from Mr. Keene, who will inform us 
 more certainly thanBanniers has, what to expect both from 
 Spain and the emperor. Mr. Poyntz fays, the effects of 
 the galleons will not be delivered quite fo foon as you expect, 
 but that he hopes it will not be long firft. It is very proba- 
 ble the article I have mentioned, as the fundamental one, 
 in the treaty of Soiflbns, will be a fecret one, and figned 
 feparately by the Englifh, Spanifli, French, and Dutch. 
 The infinite variety of interefts which have affembled fo 
 many powers will, I hope, be fpeedilyadjufted ; though you 
 will own it is a work of time, and not fo fuddenly to be 
 brought about, as fome politicians in England feem to think. 
 The affair of Mecklenburgh is the moft troublefome, and 
 one of the moft important. H. B. M. is ftrenuous in oppo- 
 fing the Aulick council ; and it is happy for the ftates of the 
 empire, that they have fo powerful a protector of their 
 frights and liberties. As foon as our difpatches arrive from 
 Spain, you fhall hear the refult of all I have acquainted you 
 with in this. 
 
 I am very proud of the honour you did me, in approving 
 of thereafoninginmy laft ; it was founded uponMr.Poynt/,'s 
 diicourfe, and the papers he had the goodnefs to let me fee, 
 which I made the beft uje of I could. I am obliged to Mr. 
 Pope for enquiring after me, and beg'you would return my 
 compliments. 
 
 Nobody can have a higher opinion of his poetry than I 
 have ; but I am lorry he wrote the Dunciad. 
 
 I moft heartily rejoice that you enjoy your health, and 
 pray God to continue it. His excellency is well, and de- 
 fires his compliments. I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. L. ; 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, Auguft 251!^ 
 
 I A M glad you find the news I fent you fo generally con-i 
 firmed, but muft beg pardon for an incorrect expreflionj 
 that efcaped me in my laft ; having faid that A 15 , of H. gua-j 
 
 rantced
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTT ELTON. 519 
 ranteed the fucceflion to D. C. which I believe, is only true 
 of England, France, and Holland. 
 
 " Pour ce que regarde M, Keene, je puis feulement vous 
 dire qu'il me femble que nos miniftres onttouj ours fait beau- 
 coup de cas de fon habilite, et qu'ils ont beaucoup defere a 
 fes corifeils en tout ce que regarde la cour d'Efpagne. Je 
 fcais aufll que fon fentiment a toujours etc d'emploier jamais 
 les menaces en traitant avec cette cour ; parceqiie, connoif- 
 fimt la fierte Efpagnole, il croyoit qu'on ne pourroit rien 
 gagner d'eux par ces moyens : c'eft pourquoi il etoit d'avis, 
 ou de venir a une guerre ouverte, fans nous arreler a fairc 
 des menaces, ou de proceder par des voyes de douceur com- 
 me nous avons fait jufqu'ici. Voila fon fyfteme ; et on s'eft 
 bien trouve de 1'avoir fuivi. II me paroitd'autant plus rai- 
 fonnable que je necroy pas qu'on auroit jamais pu intimider 
 la reine d'Efpagne, qui, de 1'humeur dont elle eft, lie fe fe- 
 roit pas mife en peine de voir le royaume de fon mari plonge 
 dans tons les maiix de la guerre, pourvu que cela n'eut pas 
 empeche fes defleins en favewr de fon fils. Elle fe regarde 
 comme une etrangere, et ne s'attend pas a refter deux jours 
 en 1 ,1'pagne, f\ le roi venoit a mourir ou a abdiquer la cou- 
 ronne. Mais enfin je ne pretens pas juftifier tous les pas de 
 ' M. Keene, dont quelques uns peuvent avoir etc trop peu re- 
 fpeclueux aux ordres qu'il a re9iis, Vous dites que Particle 
 de la guarantee pourroit bien etrq contefte en d'autres en- 
 droits que a Vienne. Je le crois ; car il y a un certain parti 
 I chez nous, qui eft fort dans les interets de 1'empereur, et 
 fqui fera fans doute fort fache de voir le peu de foins que 
 nous en prenons. Mais laiflbns rnurmurer ces meflieurs-la ; 
 ; t faifons toujours une bonne paijf, fans nous foxier de leur 
 mecontentments. Je ne puis pas vous repondre decifivement 
 fur le dedommagement des portes de nos marchands : c'eft 
 une chofe a fouhaiter, mais je: doute de fon execution, Ce 
 qu'il y a d'affur^ c'eft qu'on reparera les torts de notre com- 
 merce, et qu'on le mettera en feurete pour 1'avenir. 
 
 Dieu fcait fi ce que je vous ecrit eft bon Fra^ois, .c^r. je 
 n'ay pas affez de terns pour I'etudier, ni pour en corriger 
 le moindre rriot. 
 
 .,,.' G. L. 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 MONSIEUR, Paris, Auguft 30. 
 
 NOUS avons re9ii des nouvelles fort extraordinaires 
 d'Hannovre , fcavoir, que le roi fe voit fur le point 
 L 1 4 d'etre
 
 520 LETTERS T O 
 
 d'etre attaque dans fcs etats par fon voifin le roy de Pruffe. 
 Ce prince a une fi forte inclination pour le grands hommes, 
 qu'il les prend par tout oil il les trouve ; et jl vient nouvel- 
 lement de faire enlever par fesofrkiersplufieursfujetsd'Han- 
 hovre, qui avoient le malheur d'etre deftinees par leur taille 
 a entrer dans fes troupes, fans demander leur confentement, 
 ou celui du rci leur rdaitre. S. M. fe croyant oblige a faire 
 des reprifailles, arreta tousles Prufiiensqui fe trouvoient a- 
 lors dans fes etats ; mais il promjt, en meine terns, au 
 roi de Pruffe, de les mettre tous en liberte, autfitot que lui 
 de fon cote auroit congedje les Hannoveriens. Le precede 
 etoit fort equitable ; mais Frederic declara, que fi le roi ne 
 lui envoyoit pas une autre refponfe plus fatisfa&oire avant 
 un jour qu'il lui marqua, il viendra s?en fajre raifpn a la tete 
 du quatre vtngt mille homme's. 
 
 Comme le roi ne fe mit pas en pcine de fes menaces, et 
 laiffa paffer le terns prefcrit, S. M. P. donna orojres a cin- 
 quante mille hommes de fes troupes, de marcher en diligence 
 aux frontiers ; et pour faire voir qu'il etoit bien ferieux, il 
 debourfa une groffc fornme, pour les entretenir. De fa9on 
 que nous fommes a la veille d'une guerre au milieu de nos 
 negotiations pour la paix, et pour une fujet qui n'a aucun ra- 
 port aux difference que nous travaillons a terminer, nous ne 
 doutons pas que 1'empereur ne fomente fous main la querel- 
 le, et qu'il ne tache d'allumer un feu de cette etincelle qui , 
 embraferoit toute 1'Allemagne. On trayaille poqrtant a 1'e- : 
 touffer avant qu'il eclate ; mais on a tout a craindre dc la 
 folie du roi de Prufle, et des artifices de la cour imperialc. 
 Comme ce roi a une armee fur pied beaucoup plus forte que 
 celle de S. M.B. et que le pays d'Hannovre eft tout ouvcrte ; 
 il eft a craindre que 1'ennemi n'yfafle de grands progres a- 
 vant que le roi pourra fe mettre en etat de 1'empecher. 
 
 Les fuites d'une pareille entreprife feroient aflurement fu-, 
 neftes a 1'aggrefleur ; mais les commencements pourront bien 
 etre facheux pour fa majefte. Ce n'eft pas la premiere extra-; 
 vagance de cette nature que le rot de Pruffe a faite ; il a au-j 
 trefois eleve un merchand Suedois, qui vpyagoitdans le voi-^ 
 linage de fcs etats, et plufieurs Saxons, pour les fo^er de' 
 fcrvir dans fes troupes ; et on a eu beaucoup de peine a lu| t 
 perfuadcr de les rendre aux iiiftances et aux menaces des pu-h 
 Iflances intereffees. Je croy que de toutes les tetes couronn6a3 
 de i'univers c'eft la plus infenfee. II fe pent bien que VOX 
 avezdejaentendu cette nouvelle ; mats comme je la ticns d< 
 fon excellence, j'aycru qu'il ne feroit pasmal apropos de vom 
 la mander. II me flattre que fi la guerre fe faifoil tout dc bon|
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 521 
 v0us m'envoyerez, a Hannovre, pour ne pas manquer a une fi 
 belle occafion de me fignaler au fervice et a la vice du Rot. 
 C'eft une grace que j 'attends de votre bonte, et du regard 
 que vous m'avez toujours temoigne pour mon honneur et une 
 reputation. Mais en trois femaines d'icy nous en parlerons 
 plus certainement ; et alors je prendrai le parti que vousju- 
 gerez le plus convenable. Son excellence a ete fort indifpofe, 
 mais il commence a fe retablir. J'efpere que vous vous por- 
 tez bien, et que Madame eft arrivee fans accident a Hagley. 
 Your moft dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, Sept. 8. 
 
 SUNDAY by four o ? clock we had the good news of a 
 dauphin, and fince that time I have thought myjelf in 
 Bedlam. The natural gaiety of the nation is fo improved on 
 this occafion, that they are all ftark mad with joy, and do 
 nothing but dance and fmg about the ftreets by hundreds, and 
 by thoufands. The expreflions of their joy are admirable ; 
 one fellow gives notice to the public, that he designs to draw 
 teeth for a week together upon the PontNeuf, gratis. The 
 king is as proud of what he has done, as if he had gained a 
 kingdom ; and tells every body that he fees, qu'ilffaura b.ien 
 faire desfils tant qitil voudra. We are to have a fine fire- 
 work to-morrow, his majefty being to fup in town. 
 
 The duke of Orleans was fincerejy, and without any affec- 
 ! tation, tranfported at the birth of the dauphin. 
 
 The fucceffion was a burthen too heavy for his indolence 
 . to fupport, and he pioufly fings halleluja for his happy deli- 
 very from it. The good old cardinal cried for joy. It is 
 very late, and J have not flept thefe three nights for the 
 fquibs and crackers, and other noifes that the people make 
 j in the ftreets; To muft beg leave to conclude, with afluring 
 i; you that I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your affe&ionate apd dutiful fon, 
 
 O. JLr. 
 
 7C*fto: vto.,.f#f/jft or-: ' ; - 7j " 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Pan's, Sept. 16- 
 
 THE difference with Pruffia is nearly compofed ; that 
 king being intimidated with the firmnefs he found in 
 
 his majefty's allies to ftand by him in cafe of a rupture, which 
 
 he
 
 522 L B T T E R S T O 
 
 he flattered himfelf they would not have done, especially the 
 French. On the other fide, Sickcndorf the imperial minifter, 
 (who had intimated* in private dilcourfe with the Danifh ie- 
 cretary, that if the king ot : G. B. called in any of his allies to 
 his afliiVance againft'Pruflia, his mailer would think himfelf 
 obliged to a Hill that kingdom, with his forces) being aflc-ed in 
 council, " whether the king of Pr-uflfia might depend upon 
 " fuccours from his imperial majefty ;" replied, <( that he 
 had no orders to promife any." Tfuppofe, you have a 
 more ample account of this affair from Mr. Weft, fo'fhall 
 fay no more of it. Mr. Poyntz has been very ill ; but, I 
 thank God, is qn the mending hand. 
 
 We are now in the middle of September ; and though the 
 thoughts of leaving fo kind a friend are very unpleafing to 
 me, yet as I am now at the lateft term I ever propofed, and 
 as a further delay would make my journey to Italy impracti- 
 cable, I am obliged to mention it to you, and to defire im- 
 mediate leave to fet out that way. 
 
 His excellency himfelf advifes me not to defer it any lon- 
 ger, the winter being the proper feafon for feeing Rome j 
 and this we are now in, for palling the Alps. 
 
 It is probable he wilJ not be long in France ; and there- 
 fore it is not worth my while, for a month or two longar, to 
 lofe the opportunity of my travelling as I always defigned. 
 
 I hope I have given you no reaibns to alter your fir ft in- 
 tentions of fending me to Italy, a country I long to fee, an4 
 where I may expect to improve myfclf confiderably. 
 
 You will undoubtedly thank Mr. Poyntr, upon my taking 
 leave of him, for the many, and indeed infinite obligvitic 
 I have to him, which do me fo much honour, and of which 
 have fo deep a fenfe. I proteft to YOU, my dear Sir, that! 
 you are the only perfon iri the wopld-to 4 whom I am-more ir 
 debted than to him,' fo, after yoft, there is nobody whom 
 more love and honour, and to ferve whom I would facrifu 
 life and fortune fo willingly as Mr. Poyntn. Were he a pri- 
 rate man, and diverted of that luftre' which great abilities 
 and employments give him, his virtu-esonly would gain hind 
 the -veneration and love of all the world. My nearnefs tq 
 him has given me opportunity to rtudy his charafter, and ] 
 have found it mor& beautiful and perfect the clofer I looked 
 intp and examined it. I propofe to myfelf a great deal o 
 pleaiure in telling you fome particulars ot his conduct, \vhicj 
 his modelty concealed" from eyes that were Icfs intent upoj 
 him than mine. 
 
 You need not give yourfelf the trouble of looking out fcj
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 523 
 
 3 recommendations for me to any of the Italian courts, I be- 
 i, ing acquainted with their minifters here, and not doubting 
 : but I fhall have as many as I want. 
 
 The tumult of the people for the dauphin is a little over, 
 and the nation are returning to their fenfes. I remain, 
 Dear Sir, your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. L. 
 
 IL E T T E R XXII. 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, Sept. 27. 
 
 MR. Stanhope is on his way to Spain. The caprice and 
 ftubbornnefs of the king of Spain (which is not al- 
 ways to be governed even by his wife) made it neceflary to 
 r fend a minister to that court, of too much weight and autho- 
 ,; rity to be trifled with. It is a melancholy reflexion, that 
 the wifeft councils and beft meafures for the public good are 
 : fometimes to be frustrated by the folly and incapacity of one 
 
 man ! 
 
 \. How low is the fervitude of human kind, when they are 
 reduced to refpect the extravagance, and court the pride, 
 J. of a fenfelefs creature, who has no other character of roy- 
 iljalty, than power to do mifchief ! 
 
 However, I hope, all will turn out well, and that his Ca- 
 .; tholic majefty will behave himfelf a little like a king, fmce 
 the queen will have him be one in fpite of his teeth. About 
 hree months ago, me caught him going down flairs at mid- 
 night, to abdicate, in his night-gown. He was fo incenfed at 
 the furprize and difappointment, that he beat her cruelly, and 
 would have ftrangled her if (he had not called for help. 
 
 This attempt of his alarmed her terribly, and put her 
 upon carrying him about Spain, to amufe him with feeing 
 fights, in order to keep St. Ildefonfo out of his head. The 
 journey has coft immenfe fums, fo that the indult and trea j 
 lure they expect from Lima is already mortgaged, and the 
 king more in debt than ever. 
 
 I have a word or two to add to my French letter, upon the 
 fucceflion of don Carlos. There is a fecret article in the 
 quadruple alliance, not much attended to, which fays, that 
 in cafe the Dutch mould be unwilling to pay their mare of 
 the neutral garrifons, the king of Spain mould, if he plea- 
 fed, take upon himfelf to furnifh their quota for them (that 
 is, two thoufand men). 
 
 ARTICLE S E P A R F/. 
 
 f* Que fi les Seigneurs Etats Gene.raux des Provides Unies 
 
 des
 
 5 2 4 LETTERS T O 
 
 des PaisBastrouvoient qu'il leur fut tropa charge defour- 
 nir leur quote part des fubfides qui feront payez, aux Can- 
 tons Suiffes, pour les garnfons de Livourne, Porto r - raio, 
 de Parme, et de Plailance, felon la teneur du traite d alli- 
 ance conclue ce jourd'huy ; il a ete declare expreUement 
 par cet article fepare, et convenu entreles quatre parties 
 contraaantes,quedanscecasle roi Cathohquc pourra ie 
 charger de la portion qu'auroient a payerjes beigneu 
 Etats Generaux." . 
 
 By which it is plain, that the fifth article was not defigned 
 tobe ftriaiy under ftood ; but that, notwithftandmg the pro- 
 hibition there exprefled, a proportion of troops, in Spami 
 pay, might be admitted into Italy. But, what is of much 
 greater importance, there is a private article in the Vienna , 
 treaty, by which the emperor is allowed exprefsly to lend a 
 body of 8,000 imperialifts into Tufcany and Parma, upon 
 the death of the prefent poffeffors. This is fo certain, tnat 
 upon the illnefs of the grand duke, which was apprehended 
 to be mortal, the imperial minifteraaually wrote to haften 
 the march of the troops that way. This point the emperor 
 obtained without our knowledge or confent, in contradiction 
 to the terms of a treaty which we made in favour of his in 
 terefts, and in prejudice to our own. And yet he and J 
 friends complain of us, for fecurmg ourfelves againft his 
 breach of treaty, by giving up an article we are no ways 
 concerned in, and which he had made fo light of himfelf. 
 
 One would be aftpnimed how Spam could be prevailed up-l 
 on to yie!4 him fuch a point ; but the whole Vienna treaty is 
 perfea infatuation on that fide, where every rea Advantage 
 is given up to the chimerical marriage with the arch-dutchefs. 
 Mr Poyntz is better ; but the deep concern he takes in eve- 
 ry incident that affeas the negociation, much retard, his r-J 
 covery. Never did man love his country better, or was 
 more aaive in its fervice. I have been much out of order! 
 with a diftemper that has been univerfal at Paris, and is pro-, ; 
 bably owing to the Seine water; but I am very we 1 again. 
 I am troubled and uneafy at my expences here, though yc 
 are fo good and generous not to mention them in any or you 
 letters I am guilty of no extravagance -but do not know 
 how to fave, as fome people do. This is the time of my life 
 
 ow o ae, as . 
 
 in which money will be ill faved, and your goodnefs 
 of it tome I think without offending your prudence Ml 
 dear Sir, 1 know no happinefs but in your kindnels ; and it eve 
 I lofe that, I am the woi ft of wretches. I remain, bir, j 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G. 
 LETTE
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 525 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Paris, OS. 6. 
 
 I HAVE the greateft thanks to return you for the many 
 proofs of confidence and affe&ion you gave me in your lall 
 and (hall labour to deferve that goodnefs which is fo kind and 
 complaifant to" my defires. I mall, in obedience to your or- 
 ders, fet out for Italy to-morrow, where I hope to make fuch 
 improvements as will anfwer the expence of the journey. 
 But whatever advantage or plealurc I may propofe, I cannot, 
 without a fenfible affliction, take leave of my dear friend Mr. 
 Poyi.tz, of whole favours to me I have fo deep a fenfe, that 
 I cannot too often exnrefs my acknowledgements. The time 
 I have enjoyed his company has been Ipent fo happily, and 
 fo much to my honour and advantage, that I do not know- 
 how to reconcile my thoughts to a period of it. It is not fo 
 much the livelinefsof his wit, and uncommon ftrength of his 
 judgement, that charm me in his converfation, as thofe great 
 and noble fentiments, which would have been admired by an- 
 cient Rome, and have done honour to the moft virtuous ages. 
 
 He is going to his country-feat, where I hope the air, 
 and a little repofe from the fatigue of bufinefs, will entirely 
 reftore his health. I fhall oblerve your cautions againft 
 grapes, new wine, and pretty women, though they are all 
 very tempting, but dangerous things. 
 
 I have time for no more now, but to afTure you of my duty 
 and affection. I have wrote to my lord Cobham upon my 
 going to Italy. His excellency thanks you for your letter, and 
 will write to you as foon as he gets to Haute Fontaine. I 
 have the pleafure of being able to affure you, that the final 
 project of a treaty fent to Spain, is entirely fatisfa&ory and 
 honourable, and that it contains a full redrefsand reparation 
 for all nbufes, grievances, and wrongs. 
 
 Jam, dear Sir, with due rclpcft, 
 Your moft dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 " S I R, Haute Fontaine, OS. 18. 
 
 MR. Lyttelton will have acquainted you with my remo- 
 ving to this place, the day before he left Paris, for the 
 benefit of the air, and exercife of the country, which has al- 
 nr.oft reftored me to health. The firft ufe 1 make of it, Sir, 
 
 is
 
 526 LETTERSTO 
 
 is to return you my fmcere thanks, for making me fo long 
 happy in his good company, which, I may with great truth 
 fay, has contributed more than any thing elfe, to make the 
 tedioufnefs of this fplendid banimment lupportable to me, 
 and to foften the impreflions which the many perverfe turns 
 of the negociations muft have made upon my mind. I wifh 
 it had been in my power to make equal returns : his good- 
 nature difpofes him to over-value them, fuch as they were ; 
 but I can only hope, that our future acquaintance may afford 
 me opportunity of discharging fome part of the debt. 
 
 His behaviour has continued uniformly the fame as I de- 
 fcribed it laft winter, and I am morally fure will never alter 
 in any country, or any part of life, for the worfe. His 
 health is liable to frequent interruptions, though not dange- 
 rous ones, nor of any long continuance. They feem to pro- 
 ceed chiefly from an ill digeftion, which, I believe, may 
 ibmetimesbeoccafioned by the vivacity of his imagination's 
 purfuing fome agreeable thought too intenfely, and diverting 
 the fpirits from their proper function, even at meals; for 
 we have often been obliged at that time to recall him from 
 reveries that made him almoft abfent to his company, 
 though without the lead tincture of melancholy. 
 
 I mention this laft circumftance as a peculiar felicity of i 
 his temper ; melancholy and fpleen being the rock on which 
 minds of fo delicate a texture as his are moft in danger of 
 fplitting. I have feen two or three inftances of it myfelf in 
 young gentlemen of the greateft hopes ; and the epiftles wrote 
 by Languett, to Sir Philip Sydney, upon an acquaintance con- 
 tracted like ours abroad, bring his particular cafe to my mind. 
 
 No young gentleman ever promifed more ; but returning 
 to England, confcious of his own worth, and full of more re- 
 tined notions of honour, virtue, and friendmip, than were to 
 be met with in courts mid parliaments, and in that mixed herd 
 of men with whom bufmeis muft be tranfactcd, he conceived 
 a total di%uft for the world ; and retiring into the country, fat 
 down with patience to con fume the vigour of his imagination 
 and youth in writing a trifling romance. 1 can with plealurej 
 aflure you, that I fee no fymptom of this kind in Mr. Lyt-j 
 teltcn; his mind is ever chearful and aUve, and full ot fuchi 
 a benevolence towards his friends and relations in England, 
 as well as fuch y.eal tor the honour and interefts of his coun- 
 try, as, I verily believe, will never let him fink down into 
 indolence and inaction. However this ficknefs ot the mind,! 
 and an ill ftate of bodily health, which naturally influence 
 and promote one the other, are the two point? moft ncccfla-j
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 527 
 
 ry to guard againft, in a nature the moft exempt from 
 faults I ever met with. 
 
 I ought to atk pardon, for indulging this liberty, if I were 
 
 1 not writing to the beft of fathers; though this very circum- 
 
 ftance makes all my care fuperfluous ; but the friendship your 
 
 Ion has exprefled for me ever fince his being here, and more 
 
 I particularly in my late illnefs, and at parting, is too ftrong 
 
 : upon my mind, to fuffer me to fupprefsany hint that may be 
 
 ot the moft diftant ufe to him, or may convince you of the 
 
 (incerity of that refpeft, with which I am, Sir, 
 
 Your moil humble, and obedient fervant, 
 
 S.POYNTZ." 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 E 
 
 DEAR SIR, Lions, Od. 16. 
 
 1C A M E well to Lions laft Friday, after a very pleafant 
 journey, if the roads had been a little better. I am migh- 
 tily pleafed with this fine city, and could be willing to ftay 
 longer in it ; but it begius to rain, and I muft make hafte to 
 . pafs the Alps. 
 
 I cannot take leave of France, without fending you a few 
 obfervations upon the prefent flate of it; but I do it upoa 
 i condition, that you fhall fhew them to nobody, though they 
 ! ihould have the good fortune to pleafe you. 
 
 The prefent king is fo little known, either to his fubje&s 
 or foreigners, that the firft have not much to fay in his praife, 
 and the latter are at full liberty to fuppofe what they pleafe 
 to his disadvantage. For this reafon, and perhaps from a 
 Httle pleafure we take in mortifying the French, we have 
 generally a worfe notion of him than he really deferves. 
 We reprefent him as ill-natured, brutal, and incapable of 
 feu fine fs ; but this character does not juftly belong to him 
 \ in any one particular. 
 
 I have enquired into the truth of the ftories we are told 
 
 ' of his barbarity, and find them entirely falfe. He has fhewn 
 
 great marks of good'-nature, particularly to the queen, in 
 
 being the only man in France that did not hate her for not 
 
 ' bringing him a fon. His behaviour to thofe about him is 
 
 perfectly affable and eafy ; I think more fo than is confift- 
 
 cnt with majefty. 
 
 There is no one aft: of violence or injuftjce that can be 
 laid to his charge ; nothing vicious or irregular in his con- 
 duel. As to his incapacity for bufinefs, they are much mif- 
 Y Tkcn wko fuppofe that he doss nothing but hunt and fleep. 
 
 I know
 
 52 8 LETTERSTO 
 
 I know for certain, that there is no affair of moment, either 
 foreign or domeftick, that the cardinal does not communi- 
 cate I'D him. I believe, indeed, he always acquiefces m his 
 miMuer'b opinion; bui he i.conftantly confulted and let into 
 all tr-e fecrei of affairs before any body elfe is trufted with 
 it, even the garde desfceaux bimtelf. Nor is this confidence 
 ever prejudicial ; for he is mailer of an impenetrable iecre- 
 cy which is a good deal owing to the natural phlegm and 
 refcrvednefs of his temper. It is hard to fay whether he has 
 courage or not; but the cardinal thinks he has, and dreads 
 10 engage him in a war for fear he fhould grow too fond of 
 it. He is cold, unaaive, and infenfiblc to all kind of 
 pleafures; his very hunting does not delight him; and this 
 is what the French are angry at: they love that their mo- 
 narch mould be gallant, magnificent, and ambitious, and do 
 not care what price they pay for it, provided there be great 
 news from Flanders, and fine entertainments at Veriailles 
 
 Lewis the fourteenth underftood their genius, and hu- 
 moured it, in his wars and in his amours; but the frugality 
 of the prefent court, and the dulnels of a continued peace. ; 
 are things they cannot relifh. ! 
 
 In truth, his majefty's word fault is a kind of bafliful ti- f 
 midity, which makes him fhun all occafions for (hewing him- 
 felf, and has very much the air of heavinefs. He is devout, 
 which may degenerate into bigotry, as it did in his grandfa- 
 ther It is to be feared, from the eagernefs he expreffes of , 
 winning money at play, that he may grow avaricious; but, 
 that is not always a certain fign : his virtues and vices will 
 probably remain as much concealed as they are now, during 
 the life of the cardinal; but at his death, flattery and love' 
 may give him a new turn; or his difpofition, being no 
 longer under any check, may exert itfelt more conlpi- 
 cuoufly. Upon the whole, there appears nothing mining,, 
 nothing elevated or commanding, in his character, but iucri 
 a mediocrity as may make his people eafy, and very capa- 
 ble of governing a kingdom, where there are no fegionsfO 
 contend with, and no difaffeaions to overcome. His nrffl 
 miniftcristhe moft abfolute that ever exercifed that au-, 
 thority in France, not excepting even Richelieu. j 
 
 There is not one man in the whole nation dares fpeak < 
 any puiinels to the king befides himfelf, and thofe irnmedH 
 ately under his dircaion. The parliament is hardly I 
 lhadow of what it was. The princes ot the blood, anq 
 the nobility, are all pcnfioners and dependants of th 
 court, from the dukes and marmaU of France to tue Ic
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 529 
 
 eft officer in the fervice ; their intereft, once fo formidable 
 to the power of the mimftry, is reduced to fuch a degree of 
 weaknefs, that not one them, if he had courage to rebel, 
 able to raiie fifty foldiers againft the king. And, what 
 is ot no lefs moment, the women are quite out of play, and 
 re obliged to content themfelves with love-intrigues, in- 
 Itead of cabals againft the miniftry, to which they have a 
 riore violent inclination. So that the authority of the car- 
 dinal is without bounds ; the difpofal of all dignities and em- 
 )loyments is folely in his hands ; and all bufinefs both at 
 '. lome and abroad is managed by his miniftry and orders. 
 ie ule he has made of this authority has been fo juft and 
 leficial to the ftate, that, except the Janfenifts, whom he 
 reals with too much rigour, the nation is generally fatisfied 
 j *ith his adminiftration. He found the people almoft ruin- 
 I iu Y ^^fyft of the Miffifippi ; the king's finances 
 ! U directed, and his treafures wafted in needlefs penfionsand 
 rorufe expences. The principle of his conduft therefore 
 vas, to eafe the people, to reftore their decaying trade, to 
 ave the king all the money he was able, and to retrench all 
 r aperfluous goings-out. But, in order to do this, he was 
 on vi need of the neceffity of maintaining peace by all the 
 leans that were confident with the fafety and honour of the 
 ite. This has always been his intention in all treaties and 
 Uiances with toreign powers, particularly Great Britain, 
 f mh whom he has cultivated the ftrideft friendship, becaufe 
 ie is fenfible that we have the fame views as he has for 
 ie preiervation of the public tranquility. On the contra- 
 >, bpam and the emperor, by a turbulent and ambitious 
 tiduct, have alarmed and put him upon his guard, and he 
 as given his allies the ftrongeft proofs of being determined 
 J bring them to reafon. At home he has conftantly pur- 
 <d his plan of favmg the public money; and it is thought, 
 ne lives five years longer, and the peace continues, the 
 :ng s revenues will be upon a better footing, and his trea- 
 y fuller, than they have been under any minifter this 
 y years. He is himfelf a great defpifer of wealth, and 
 bnlequently uncorrupt, living modeftly, and without any 
 fetation of pomp or grandeur. 
 
 The greateft complaint againft him is the perfecution of 
 
 e Janfenifts, to whom he is a bitter enemy ; not, howe- 
 
 -r, out of love to the Jefuits, but becaufe it is a maxim of 
 
 13 policy, not to fuffer any difference of opinions, but 
 
 Hge every body to hold one faith, that he may the ea-, 
 
 keep them under one mafter. As for the Jefuits, they'
 
 53 o LETTERSTO 
 
 eain no advantage by the feverities againft their antagonifts, 
 except the pleaiure of revenge, for their ambition is very- 
 much reftramed ; and, though one of them be conteffor to 
 the king, the cardinal has denied him the privilege ot no- 
 minating to benefices, which uied to attend that place and 
 contributed more than any thing to raiie the power and cre- 
 dit of the order. . 
 
 Neither does he fuffer them to meddle at all in politicks ; 
 it being another of his maxims, not to permit the members 
 of any fed or order whatever to have any thing to do with 
 ftate affairs, becayie it is to be feared that fuch perfons, 
 having a feparate intereft from the ftate, will preter the ad- 
 vantage of their particular body to the general, upon all oc- 
 cafions where they interfere. And of the truth ot this there 
 are many inftances. He is the very reverfe ot Maxarm, both 
 in his temper and adminiftration; naturally honeft and fm- 
 cere, he hates all artifice in bufinefs, and is therefore very 
 much difgufted with the imperial minifters, who afreet n- 
 nefle and tricking in their negociations, more than any other 
 court. Nobody has more fweetnefs and humanity m his < 
 
 P Hiconverfation is free and agreeable, without defending 
 from his dignity ; his behaviour very moral and religious,' 
 though in his younger days he was fulpeaed of a hi 
 gallantry. There is fomething very mfmuating in his wi 
 and very proper for a courtier ; but no extraordinary talents 
 Had he come a little earlier to the miniftry, he would have. 
 been more knowing, and have made a greater figure. J 
 has a paternal affection for the king's perfon, and an arden 
 zeal for his fervice ; and it is believed, that were his ma; 
 jefty to die, the old gentleman would retire wholly from be 
 fmefs, and take care of nothing but his ialvation. * ou 
 the account I have given you, that he is not the crooked ; p 
 litician we take him for in England, nor yet fo weak as M 
 here are apt to think him; but a man of plain fenlc, tl 
 lays down a reafonable fcheme, and purfues it conitartU 
 
 a "l c a dme' now to fay fomething of the people ; but thd 
 charader is fo well known in England, that it would be v 
 
 . . T /1__11 I., ~Uf.orI*> fh-jtll 
 
 cnaracier is 10 wen MUJVYI m i-mc,"..' - j 
 
 ry impertinent to talk about it. I (hall only obferve that, 
 the king had died before the birth of a dauphin, the fi 
 reafon which renders them fubmiflive to the prefent goverj 
 ment, would have made them all rebels to the duke o 
 leans; I mean the principle of divine, unalterable, herec- 
 tary right. The clergy, who enjoy a third ot the an<
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 531 
 
 France, and who in all nations are preachers of the jus di- 
 vmum becaufe they pretend to it themfelves, would no doubt 
 have been very zealous for the king of Spain; but at pre- 
 lent they are very good fubjeds, only a little refraaory a- 
 gamit the confhtution Unigenitus. The duke of Berwick, 
 who is at the head of the army, is ftrongly for the EnHifh. 
 alliance ; and fo is marfhal Villars. 
 
 It remains to give fome account of the trading part, 
 which, to the great misfortune of this nation, is the leaft 
 confiderable of the three. When cardinal Richelieu came 
 prft to the miniftry, the naval power of France was in fo 
 low and defpicable condition, that a nation, formidable by 
 land to all its neighbours, was liable to be infulted at fea by 
 every little corfair and privateer. In the fpace of a few years, 
 ; that great man fo improved their Dipping, that they began to 
 ijbe able to make head againft the ftrongeft maritime powers 
 ; Afterwards his difciple, M. Colbert, upon the plan his maf- 
 iter had traced him out, carried their commerce to fuch a 
 point, that it alarmed the jealoufy of the Englifh and Dutch 
 as much as their acquifitions on the continent. They gain- 
 kd great eftablimments in America ; they fet up various 
 manufactures ; they got all the treafures of the flota and 
 galleons into their hands ; they became the chief traders in 
 the Levant. I need not tell you how much the indolence of 
 Charles the fecond , and the weaknefs of his brother^contribut- 
 ed to this increafe of the French trade : even our own partial 
 hiftories confefs it. But the wars that fucceede'd the Revo- 
 Jution, the negleft of the following minifters, thefyftem**, 
 .and other ruinous enterprizes, have fince reduced them verv 
 much; and, though they are at prefent protected by good 
 Beets, and much encouraged by the court, they are ftill ve- 
 .7 full of complaints: they are terribly exafperated againft 
 :he court of Spain, for th^ir frequent infraftions of treaties 
 3f commerce, in detaining the effects of the galleons, and 
 iemanding extravagant indults of the proprietors ; befides 
 "nany particular grievances and wrongs, of which it is not 
 proper to enter into a detail. The Englim afliento contract, 
 ind the favourable privileges granted to them by the fuc- 
 ;eeding conventions, are great mortifications to the mer- 
 chants here ; not only as they were in pofleflion of that trade 
 jhernfelves during all the war, but as they are in great need 
 >f it, to furnifli themfelves with piaflres to carry on their 
 ;ommerce to the Levant. They pretend we are guilty of 
 
 * Miflifippi. 
 
 M m 2 many
 
 532 LETTERS TO 
 
 many abufes in the exercife of our privileges, and that we I 
 
 find means to elude the reftraints they have left us under. 
 
 They are alfo exceedingly alarmed at our new linen manu- 
 
 faaure in Ireland; which, they imaging, will be greatly de- 
 
 trimental to the trade of Bretagne and Normandy ; no doubt, 
 
 with very good reafon. There are feveral late advantages 
 
 we have gained over them in the Levant, in Barbary, and 
 
 the Weft Indies, at which they are very unealy, but it i: 
 
 likely to be to little purpofe. The government is made gua- 
 
 rantee by feveral treaties, particularly that of Hanover, to 
 
 all the branches and privileges of our trade, as we now en- 
 
 joy them ; and therefore they can neither complain o us, 
 
 nor look for any fatisfaaion while thofe treaties fubfiftJ 
 
 which are in no danger of being broke After all, their 
 
 country is fo fituated for commerce, fo fruitful in produc- 
 
 tions which others want, and the people are fo mduftnous, 
 
 that one would imagine, with proper encouragement, they 
 
 could not fail of gaining the fuperiority over all their 
 
 neighbours. But, notwithstanding all thefe natural ad van j 
 
 tages, the abjed ilavery they are in, the number of hand;' 
 
 that are employed in the military fervice, the fwarms o 
 
 idle ecclefiaftics, and, above all, the chimerical diftmchor 
 
 between a gentleman and a merchant, will always keep theil 
 
 traffic low: and the country will continue in the poverty 
 
 fee it now, which is more miferable than I could ever nav 
 
 conclude my remarks by obferving, that the rogue 
 ry and rapine of the intendants of towns and balliages, an 
 the partial execution of their power of levying taxes, is 
 greater caufe of the ruin of the provinces than the iever 
 tv of the government. . J 
 
 ' It is indeed the curfe of arbitrary ftates, that the inter* 
 or officers are worfe tyrants than thofe they ferve, and n 
 ven^e their own flavery upon theVretches who are itill I 
 er than themfelves, by a more grievous mfolence and ex 
 tion This, and the corruption of their courts o juitic 
 where favour and folicitation have more weight than rig 
 or equity, are the conftitutional maladies of the natio 
 and -rown fo habitual to it that they are hardly to be r 
 moved. Thank God, we know neither in England; but a 
 bleft in an impartial adminiftration of the wifeft laws, a 
 fecured from concuflions and other violences, by the nott 
 privilege we enjoy of being taxed by none but our reprh 
 Tentative*.
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 533 
 
 I am more ftrongly attached to my own country by what 
 ' fee of the mileries abroad, and find the fpirit of Whiggifm 
 ?rows upon me under the influence of arbitrary power : it 
 vill ftill encreafe when I come intoltaly, where the oppref- 
 ion is more fenfible in its effects, and where the fineft 
 rountry in the world is quite depopulated by it. 
 
 I fet out to morrow for Geneva, in company with Sir 
 William Wyndham l s fon, and mall go from thence to Tu- 
 in. I have fufficiently tired you with fo long a letter, fo 
 hall end with alluring you of the refpect and affe&ion 
 vith which I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 I MON CHER PERE, Geneva, O.a. 26. 
 
 1L y a trois jours que je fuis a Geneve ; et je vous affure 
 que j'en fuis tout a fait charme. Le lac, les montag- 
 ics, et les promenades, qui font autour de cette belle ville, 
 refentent la vue la plus riante et la plus agreable qu'on 
 uifle voir ; et la fociete en dedans eft auffi polie et auffi 
 ^avante que dans aucun endroit de 1'Europe. II me paroit 
 u'on auroit beaucoup de peine a trouver ailleurs une (1 jo- 
 ic retrait pourl'exercife et pour 1'etude. En venant de Li- 
 ns icy, je me fuis un peu detourne de ma route, pour voir 
 2 grand couvent des Chartreux, qui eft fitue dans un defert 
 ffreux,parmi desrocherset des precipices prefque inaccefli- 
 fes, oil de tout cote on voit tomber des torrents du plus 
 aut fommet des montagnes, pour former une petite riviere, 
 ui remplit la profondeur du vallon, etcouleavec beaucoup 
 ie rapidite entre des bois et des forets fauvages dont tout le 
 is eft couvert. Jamais fituation n'a ete plusconforme au 
 enie des Chartreux que celle cy que choifit leur fondateur 
 pour y batir leur couvent, ni plus propre a leur faire oublier 
 e monde par 1'eloignment de toute fociete humaine, et de 
 bute ce qui peut reveiller leur defirs. La maifon eft batie 
 .implement, et ne confifte que dans un long arrangement de 
 loitres et de cellules feparees les unes des autres, avec une 
 ;glife, et une falle a manger. Vous f9avexqu'ils ne parlent 
 ue les dimanches et les jours de fete, et qu'ils mangent 
 Haigre toute Pannee. Une folitude et une difcipline fi rigou- 
 (eufe les rend fans doute tres miferables; ils vivent pourtant 
 Jngtems, et joiiiffent d'une tranquillite apparente. Leur 
 (Smperance conferve leur fante; et ils s'amufent dans leur 
 M m 3 cellules
 
 534 LETTERS TO 
 
 cellules a des occupations mechaniques et laborieules, qu 1 
 fervent a vaincre 1'ennui de leur prifon. II y en a cepen- 
 dant quelques uns, qui, n'etant pas propres au travail, lan- 
 guiffent dans une oifivit6 penible, et fe tuent a force de re- 
 
 Ve iis nous ont recuM- Wyndhamet moi avec beaucoup de 
 politefle; et nous ont fait les honneurs de leur maiion, en 
 nous donnantunbon fouper en maigre, et des hts altez 
 commodes dans leur cellules. Leur Ordre eft riche, quoi- 
 qu'il ne paroit pas dans leur mamere de vivre; le couvent, 
 ou j'ay etc, poffedc tous les bois et toutes les montagnes qui 
 i'environnent par 1'eipacc de trois ou quatre heux. Je km 
 haitroi, que le recit que je viens de faire pourroit vous dor 
 ncr quelque idee du plaifir que j'ay eprouve en voyant une 
 fol.tude plus fauvage et plus rude qu'aucune de celles qu on 
 nous depeint dans les romances, et ou Don Quixote n at 
 roit pas manque de trouver des geans et des enchanteurs. 
 La hauteur prodigieufe des rochers, le bruit des eauxqui en 
 tombent, 1'ombre des bois dont ils font ornes, et la riviei 
 qui en arrofe les pieds, ferment une fcene fi nouvelle et ft 
 Lnnante, que le plus habile pin 5 eau ne^viendra jamais a 
 bout d'en peindre la bizarrerie et la beaute. 
 
 Je partirai en deux jours pour Turin, ou je ferai une i< 
 jour de deux ou trois femains. Je m'attends a trouver 
 beaucoup d'incommodite en paffant les Alpes, parceque les 
 neiges commen 9 ent deja a tomber. J'efpere de recevoir bi 
 entot de vos nouvelles, et de pouvoir me rejouir de la cer- 
 titude qu' elles me donneront de votre fante, et de celle de 
 ma chere mere et de mcs freres et fceurs. Adieu. ^ ^ 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 MON CHER FERE, Turin, Nov. 16. 
 
 IL y a dix ou douze jours que je fuis icy, ou j'ay trouve 
 une reception fort honnetc, dont je tuis redevable aux re 
 commendations de monficur le marquis de Santacni, arnb f 
 fadeur d'Efpagne au congres, qui a demcure long tern , 
 cette cour, et y eft fort confidere. Si la pa.x fe fa t, i 11 
 en Anglterrejouje vous prie, Monficur de voulo.bie, 
 le remerder pour moi des civilites qu'.l m a fait. J a> ei 
 un affcz 9 rude paffage fur le Mont Cenis ; la neige tomban 
 avec beaucoup de violence; et le vent dc br,e, qui nou 
 donna dan S le vifage, nous cauiant un troid cpouventab 
 Danzel en a eu le plus grand mal ; car une groflfe fi^vre
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 535 
 
 pris, et il refte toujours fort malade. Nous montames fur 
 des mulcts ; mais, pour defcendre, il nous fallut des chaifes 
 a porteurs, a cauie des precipices que la neige rendoit plus 
 ghiiantes, et qui veritablement faifoient peur. Les brouil- 
 lards etoient fi epais, qu'ils nous empechoient de voir les 
 res Alpes qm nous en V1 ronnoient, et qui font beaucoup 
 plus hautes que le Mont Cenis, quoique celui cy a'trois 
 ' lieues de hauteur. Ce qui nous faifoit le plus de plaiflr etoit 
 un torrent, qui peut s'appeller une riviere, qui tomboit de 
 la 9ime de la montagne, et formoit des magnifiques cafcades 
 -entre les rochers qui s'oppofent a fa chute. La plaine de 
 Pedmont eft belle, et fort bien cultivee ; ce qui nous a 
 icnarme d'autant plus que nous fortimes du pays le plus de- 
 forme, et le plus defert du monde. Je ne vous ferai pas la 
 Efcnption de Turin ; c'eft une ville affez connue. Le Roi 
 lous a recu tort gracieufement Monfieur Wyndham. et moy. 
 eit toujours a fa maifon de Campagne, dont nous fomraes 
 res taches, parceque nous fouhaitenons de lui faire notre 
 cour. 
 
 _ He has his eyes very intent upon what we are doing on 
 e lide ot Tufcany, and would be glad to give us fome dif- 
 :urbance. The Milanefe is the objed of his ambition; and 
 is a peace would be an obftacle to any new acquifitions, he 
 s very much out of humour with the thoughts of it. They 
 *vould not let him fend a minifter to the congrefs, becaufe 
 :hey knew the part he would have aded there would not be 
 'cry favourable to the repofe of Europe. He is a great ge- 
 leral, and has a fine army, and never loft by a war. 
 ,. J e conte de refter icy fept ou huit jours encore ; enfuite 
 iray a Genes et de la a-Milan. J'ay par tout des bonnes re- 
 mmendations, qui font des chofes fort neceffaires pour les 
 'oyageurs. Je fuis dans la derniere impatience de recevoir 
 le vos nouvelles, et d'apprendre. que ma chere mere fe porte 
 Men, et que ma fceur eft heureufement accouchee. Monfieur 
 Wyndham voyage toujours avec moi, ce qui me fait beau- 
 :oup de plaifir, comme ce jeune feigneur a infiniment d'ef- 
 nt, et du fcavoir vivre, et qu'il eft bien recu de tout la 
 nonde. Vous aurez de mes nouvelles auflitot que j'arrive- 
 - ai a Milan, fi j e ne vous ecris pas de Genes. 
 W e have one great enemy in the army, the marfhal 
 uxelles ;.but that is of no confequence to our affairs, 
 long to hear of Mr Stanhope's fuccefs at the court of Spain, 
 remain, dear Sir, , -,+ . 
 
 Your dutiful, &c. 
 
 G. L. 
 Mm4 LETTER
 
 536 LETTERS TO 
 
 LETT E R XXVIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Genoa, Nov. 30 
 
 IH AVE been at Genoa four days, and mall fet out to-- 
 morrow for Milan. I am extremely pleafed with the 
 magnificence and beauty of this town, which is one of the 
 fined in Italy. Nothing can be more noble than its fituati- 
 on, which rifes in an amphitheatre from the fea, and has a 
 fpacious port before it, that is defended with a tolerable for- 
 tification, and is generally well filled with merchants mips. 
 
 Its palaces are fit to lodge kings ; but I fhall referve th* 
 defcription of them to entertain you with at Hagley fire- 
 fide. The form of its government is fo well known, and Id 
 nearly refembles that of Venice, that I need fay nothing to 
 you about it. The low ftate of its commerce, and the 
 weaknefs of its once powerful fleet, which is now reduced. 
 to five gallics* have been obferved by every traveller theie 
 thirty years. But what the republic fufFers mod in, is the 
 decline of genius and fpirit in their governors. The great 
 families of Doria, Spincla* and Grimaldi, which are fa- 
 mous over all Europe for having produced fo many illuftri- 
 ous generals, cannot nowboaft of one foldier in all their 
 branches; the modern robility are all funk in eafe and floth, 
 without courage or ability to aft either for their own ho-s 
 nour or. their country's. So that the ftate muft neceflarity \ 
 languifh, and would probably fall into the hands of iome i 
 powerful neighbour, if the jealoufy of ether prince< I 
 did not hinder it, which is at prefent its btft fecurityl 
 They are in great apprehenfions of the king of Sardinia jl 
 who is continually undertaking fomething to their prejudiced 
 *ind demanding conceflons from them, which they ougbjl 
 not to grant, but are not able to refufe. The greater par! I 
 of the nobility are flawes to the interefts of the emperorjl 
 from the eftatcs they poffeis in the Milanefe, and kingddfl 
 of Naples, which render them obnoxious to that princflop 
 power, and deftroy the^libcrty of the itate. He often exjl 
 torts fums of money from them, greater or. Icfs, as he fine 
 occafion, befides taxing them higher tharj fei^ other fuhj 1 ^ 
 jeQs in thofe countries. .The prefent.doge is a Grimaldji 
 but his dignity is alraoft^expired. I muAjufttake noticeJofi. 
 fome little arts that they<prac.Vife here inithcfrr eledions an^ 
 refolutions of ftate, <o let you fee that the method of vjffli 
 ing by ballot may be-abufedas well as any other. The bofll 
 is divided into two partitions, one white, the other red; .IB, 
 
 ca-
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 537 
 each member of the council they give a ball, which thrown 
 into the white confents, into the red denies : after all have 
 put in, they count the balls on either fide, and fo decide the 
 queftion by the majority. But it often happens, that fome 
 perfon has addrefs enough to convey in two balls inftead of 
 one ; fo that, when they come to reckon, they find a vote 
 too much, which renders the election void, and obliges 
 them to begin again, or put off the affair till another day, 
 as is generally the cafe. This gains time to the lofing party 
 for new brigues, and frequently changes the event. There 
 are more tricks that they play of the fame nature, as flop- 
 ping up the whole by paper thruft about half way in ; but 
 the firft is mod fuccefsful. I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate and dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Venice, Dec. 30. 
 
 AFTER feeing abundance of things well worthy of 
 obiervation, and fuffering a great many fatigues, I am 
 got through the worft roads in Europe as far as Venice. My 
 pleafure in coming to this town would have been much 
 greater, if I had found any letters here from you and my o- 
 ther friends, as I had reafon to expet ; but whether it is 
 my banker's negligence, or fome diforder in the port, I 
 have not received a line from any body, which makes me 
 very uneafy, and gives me- a thoufand fears. The public 
 papers bring good news ; the peace is figned with Spain, of 
 which I wifh you joy, and hope it will foon lead us to a ge- 
 neral one. They tell us here, that the emperor is extreme- 
 ly diflafisfied, and determined to oppofe our 'new engage- 
 ments. I believe they are net thoroughly informed; but if 
 it be true, I am fure he complains without any juft caufe. 
 If he was fincere in the quadruple alliance, he cannot be 
 averfe to the eftablifhment of don Carlos .-in Italy : why 
 then mould he be fo^angry at what is done for the better 
 fecuring that eftablifhment ? If he is not fincere, how can 
 we be blamed for taking our precautions againft him ? But 
 it fcems he is jealous of a- Spanifh power-getting foot in 
 Italy. Would not the quadruple alliance have brought in 
 one, after the death of the prefent duke ? and what elfe 
 does this treaty do, but a little advance the fame defign ? 
 The introducing Spanim garrifons into Tufcany during the 
 great duke's life is thought a hardiliip ; but would it not 
 
 have
 
 
 538 L E T T E R S T O 
 
 have been an equal grievance to have impofed neutral ones 
 upon them ? Are Swifs tropps more immediately under his 
 dependance than Spanifh ones will be ? or are not all foreign 
 forces equally offenfive to a prince in his own dominions ? It 
 is indeed a hardfhip, but a neceffary one for the peace of 
 Europe, and not at all greater than it would have been by 
 the former treaty. -I hear Mr. Stanhope is made a peer, 
 and they fay that Mr. Walpole will be lecretar)' of ftate ; 
 but nothing is talked of for Mr. Poyntfc; I hope his modelly 
 will not be made a reafon for leaving his other virtues unre- 
 warded : I am Jure he had as great a fhare in the merit of 
 the prefent treaty as either of his collegues. You will par- 
 don me, if I give you no account of my journey from Ge- 
 noa hither; the,niHBber of things that pleafed me are too 
 great, and muft be referved for converfation. Venice is the 
 place in the world, that a traveller fees with moft furprize. 
 We have a very. fine opera; Colxqna and Farinelli fing-; 
 the lafl is a prodigy, and even beyond Senefino. I beg my 
 duty to my dear-mother ; and I remain, dear Sir, 
 
 . Your ever dutiful fon, &c, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 VJkS'T T E R XXX. 
 
 D E A R S I R, Vpijice, June i3th, 1730. 
 
 LAST port brought me two of yours, dated October 
 2Oth, and November the third, which were extreme- 
 ly welcome. L writ to you from Turin and from Genoa, 
 and laft poll from Venice, to let you know I was got well 
 
 hither. Mr. W came with me all the way, and I ai- 
 
 fure you he is a very, good Whig, as well as a very pretty 
 gentleman. How far his father's authority may force him 
 to change his fentiments^when he comes to England, I can- 
 not tell ; but they are now entirely agreeable to the excel- 
 lent underftanding he is mafter of. I receive your leffon of 
 crconomy as a great and important truth, which I cannot 
 too often fet before me, and which I have too much ne- 
 glefted. I know that extravagance and ill management 
 have made as many rogues as a~varice ; and that liberty is 
 inconfiilent with the dependance which a broken fortune i 
 fubje&s every man to. 
 
 I fhall go from hence to Rome in about fifteen days. The i 
 caution you give me in relation to the gentlemen of the 
 Pretender's party, whom I may chance to meet with there*
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 539 
 
 is what I conftantly obferved towards fome of the fame per- 
 fuafion whom I knew at Paris. 
 
 I hope you will have an eafy feffion of parliament ; for 
 furely the peace with Spain is a very popular one, and I 
 am every day more convinced that the emperor's oppofiti- 
 on will come to nothing. 
 
 The fubjeft of part of this letter will not let me con- 
 clude it, without afluring you what a grateful fenfe I have 
 of your generofity and goodnefs to me, which are infinite- 
 ly beyond my deferts, and demand fuch returns as I can ne- 
 ver make, though my life be (pent in obeying you, as I ful- 
 ly refolve it mall be. Adieu, my dear "Sir ; let me know 
 often that you are well, and that you continue to love me. 
 I hope it is needlefs to fay, that I honour, efteem, and love 
 you more than any perfon or being upon earth> and that I 
 remain 
 
 Your ever dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Venice, Feb. nth. 
 
 IH AV E yours of the 24th of December, with the dupli- 
 cate. I anfwered that the poft before laft, and inclofed 
 a copy of the former one, which I hope you received. I am 
 glad to hear the land tax is diminimed ; it is no wonder the 
 city is difcontented, for, if I do not miftake, it is at prefent 
 governed by Tory magiftrates ; and they are not of a hu- 
 mour to be pleafed with any good fuccefs to court meafures. 
 You have by this time, no doubt, been publickly acquaint- 
 ed with all the terms of the Spanifh treaty, and I am per- 
 fuaded that you have found them honourable and advanta- 
 geous. I cannot be of your opinion, that the congrefs will 
 j laft much longer, or terminate in a war. The emperor 
 ! has little to gain in Italy, and much to lofe ; neither has he 
 other reafon of complaint, except that he did not give the 
 law to Europe, as he would have done. I know that he is 
 t marching troops (I think they fay 40,000 men) into his do- 
 s minions here ; but I mail not believe the reft of Italy in a- 
 ny danger, until I fee him fend 100,000, which he is not in 
 i a condition to do ; and even if he did make his utmoft ef- 
 forts, I mould doubt of his power to oppofe fo formidable 
 a confederacy: but it is the opinion of this republic, which 
 is a very good judge of politicks, that all thefe menaces 
 I will end in fmoke ; and that he is only doing as he has done 
 
 at
 
 54 o LETTERSTO 
 
 at almoft every treaty that has been figned thefe thirty years, 
 delaying his acquiefcence or acceffion, in order to be court 
 ed a little, and fave his honour. I have more particular 
 reafons for thinking fo, but they are fuch as I cannot i 
 to the common poft. 
 
 I {laid here a fortnight longer than I defigned, in hope? 
 of going to Rome with Mr. Walpole ; but an unforeleen 
 accident having fixed him here, 1 (hall fet out to-morrow 
 quite alone, which will be very melancholy. I beg my dear- 
 eft father to believe, that no fon e\er loved a parent wit 
 more tendernefs, or felt his obligations to him with more 
 gratitude, than his ever obliged and obedie on, ^ ^ 
 
 P S. When you fee my lord H , I beg you would 
 
 make him my compliments upon his negociation, a: 
 the reward of it. 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Rome, April 1 2. 
 
 TT is impoffible to tell you how fincerely I am a^ed at 
 L your complaints about your head ; I would willingly fu - 
 for any (hare of them, if it was poffible to cafe you by it. 
 It is fo natural to give advice upon thefe occafions to thole 
 for whom we are much concerned, that I cannot help faying 
 you would do mighty well to try a journey to Spa, it 
 inly for cxercife and change of air ; I have known great 
 cures performed that way upon people in your cafe and it 
 is a remedy YOU have not yet experienced. I writ to y< 
 about"ndVsago,toteH y 
 
 and that I had feen Mr. , who is in good health, thou 
 
 a little upon the decline. I am going to Naples to-mTow, 
 to ftay about eight days, and fo come back hither, where 
 I propofe to feUle till the beginning of June ; after that 
 time/there is no ftirring out of Rome till the end ot Sep- 
 tember, on account of the infeftious air in the &""&& 
 fo that as unwilling as I am to leave a place ^ agree.M| 
 to me, I am obliged to it, for fear of being a prifoner ^ 
 propofe to pafs the great heats at Milan ; though I can u 
 fay I have any fixed defign, becaufe my ftay in MJpM 
 will depend upon my liking the company, and above 
 upon the will of my deareft father. 
 
 I believe you will have a mind to fee me next fummer in 
 England, fo (hall endeavour to get out of Italy by t
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 541 
 autumn. I have received a moft kind letter from Mr.Poyntz, 
 in which he gives me very ftrong aflurances of a general 
 peace, and that I may purfue my travels through Italy with- 
 out impediment. Speaking of the manner of the treaty 
 of Seville's being received in England, he fays, " the fatis- 
 fa&ion that it gives will much encreafe, when it comes 
 to be known and felt, that, far from having made a paix 
 platree, we are really upon better terms with Spain than 
 ever, and have the predilection over all the powers of 
 Europe in her friendfhip ; which, I may venture to af- 
 fure you in confidence, is really the cafe." 
 I here fend you the verles which I wrote to his excellen- 
 cy, and I hope you will not deem them a tedious poftfcript 
 to my letter*. I remain, dear Sir, your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 L E T T E H XXXIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Rome, May 7. 
 
 YOUR commands mall always be received with an 
 implicit obedience from me, however contrary they 
 may be to my inclinations ; or, to fpeak more juftly, I have 
 no inclination fo ftrong as that of doing all I can to convince 
 you of my love and duty to the beft of fathers. I have been 
 at Naples fince my lafl ; which I am very glad of, becaufc 
 it lies quite out of my prefent road, and I muft have left it 
 unfeen. I (hall go from Rome with a ftrong imperfect 
 knowledge of the great variety of fine antiquities that are in 
 it ; more time than I have pafied here being requifite to fee 
 them as one mould do. I (hall pafs through Florence and 
 Bologna, which are the moft confiderable places where I 
 have not been ; and embark at Genoa, for Marfeilles. I (hall 
 expect to find a letter from you at Paris, where I hope to 
 arrive in about fix weeks, if no accident prevents. I fhoulJ 
 be infcnfible of praife to a fault, if I were not proud of the 
 honour her majefty does me, fo much beyond any thing I 
 could flatter myfelf with the hopes of ; but I cannot help be- 
 'ing very apprehenfive that I (hall not anfwer the advantage- 
 ous opinion (he has been pleafed to entertain of me, from 
 the partial report of my friends. Your ill (late of health 
 makes me fo uneafy, that it will not let me take much pleafure 
 in any thing. If you like the inclofed verfes, I defire you 
 would give them to Mr. Pope, to whom I have taken the li- 
 
 * Thcfe verfes are- already printed amongft the poems, p. 4,53. 
 
 beity
 
 542 LETTERS TO 
 
 berty to addrefs them*. They contain a good piece of ad- 
 vice ; and I hope it is given in a manner that will make it 
 acceptable. In fpeaking of Italy, I have confined myfelf to 
 the decay of learning there, becaufe Mr. Addifon has written 
 fo very finely upon every other point, in his verfes to lord 
 Hallifax, that I durft not think of attempting them after him. 
 With great impatience to fee you, I am, dear Sir, 
 Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Admiralty, Nov. 18, 1734. 
 
 I DEFERRED the pleafure of writing to you fo long, that 
 I might be able to give you a more certain account of 
 the peace, which has been fc varioufly reported, that I could 
 form no judgement on the truth ; nor am I now at all fatis- 
 fied with what I hear of it, as I fufpect there is fomething 
 more at bottom ; but what is generally faid, from the beft 
 authority, to be contained in the preliminaries, is as follows : 
 
 Firft, The emperor to have Parma and Placentia, with 
 all the Milanefe, except the Novarois, and a fmall diftrift 
 adjoining to it of little value, which is to be given to the 
 king of Sardinia, pour tout pot age. 
 
 The duke of Lorrain to marry the eldeft archdutchefs, to 
 be immediately declared king of the Romans, and to have 
 Tufcany at the death of the prefent duke thereof. His bro- 
 ther to marry the fecond daughter. Don Carlos to be king 
 of the two Sicilies, with the emperor's confent. Staniflaus to 
 renounce the crown of Poland ; but to be put into the imme- j 
 diate pofleflion of the dtitchy of Bar, with the name of king, 
 and to have Lorrain at the death of the duke of Tufcany. 
 France to acknowledge king Auguftus, and, after the death 
 of Staniflaus to reunite Lorrain and Bar to itfelf for ever, j 
 
 You fee at the firft view of thefe articles, that France has 
 ated in manifefl contradiction to all their pretences and de- 
 clarations in the beginning of the war. They declared, they 
 entered into it with no other view than to fupport the claim 
 of Staniflaus to the crown of Poland and their own honour, 
 which was concerned in that election : they alfo proteft'ed, 
 that they would not gain a foot of ground by any fuccefb they 
 might meet with in it, but confider only the intereft of their 
 allies. Inftead of this, they acknowledge king Auguftus, 
 
 Thefe verfes are printed above, p. 455-
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 543 
 
 make a peace prejudicial to their allies, and receive no o- 
 ther advantage or compenlation, but an encreafe of territo- 
 ry after the death of Stanillaus. 
 
 On the other fide, the emperor iseftablifheJmore ad van- 
 tageoufly in Italy than before. The prefent dominions of don 
 Carlos are taken from him, his reverfion of Tufcany alfo 
 difpofed of in favour of the houfe of Auftria, and the new 
 conquefts he has made left much expofed ; fo that Spain has 
 great caufe to be diflatisfied, as it is faid they are, even to 
 the refufing being included in the peace. Yet it is believed 
 they muft come in at laft, not being able to carry on the 
 war without France. 
 
 You will afk, therefore, if there are no fecret articles, what 
 could induce the French to Inch a treaty, which difobliges 
 their friends, to gain their enemies, at a time when they 
 were fuperior in the field, and in a condition to infift on bet- 
 ter terms ? I can account for it but one way, which is this, 
 that they faw, if they prefled harder on the emperor, he 
 would be driven, though contrary to his inclinations, to mar- 
 ry his daughter to don Carlos, by which alliance all the do- 
 minions of the houfe of Auftria would come to be united in 
 his perfon, and perhaps annexed to the crown of Spain, 
 which would be the ere&ing of a new barrier againft France, 
 more ftrong and more able to oppofe them than any the 
 houfe of Lorrain can ever conftitute. They therefore chofe 
 rather to make their peace, which gives the two archdutch- 
 efles to thofe princes, and to themfelves no inconfiderable 
 enlargement of their territory and revenue, than to hazard 
 the forming of a power, which would reftore that balance 
 again in Europe which they have fo long been labouring to 
 break : and when once the archdutchefles are married, and 
 there is no danger on that fide, they may fafely join with 
 don Carlos a fecond time, to recover his right in Tufcany, 
 and drive the emperor once more out of Italy. This feems 
 to me no improbable conjecture, fuppofing there are no fe- 
 crct articles, either relating to Flanders, or the commerce of 
 England and Holland : but there is room to fufpecl fome 
 fuch thing, if not a worfe and more dangerous defign, fince 
 it is certain that, in contempt of our mediation, neither we 
 nor the Dutch were confulted in this treaty ; but all the con- 
 tending powers agreed together (as far as they are agreed) 
 to make up their quarrels without our help, and even with- 
 out our participation, which gives us a melancholy profpecl 
 of their future intentions towards us, if not of fome prefent 
 fecret purpofe, which perhaps is the fpring of their extraor- 
 
 dinarv
 
 544 LETTERS TO 
 
 dinary proceeding. However, we muft fatisfy ourfelves, 
 and rejoice that a peace is got, whoever made it ; for no- 
 thin* was fo dangerous to the miniftry, as the continuance 
 of a war, which they could neither have well engaged in, 
 nor kept out of, had it laded a little longer I am apt to 
 think Spain will come in before next ipring, that is, before 
 they can make a new campaign ; and poffibly the good offi- 
 ces of France for the reftitution of Gibraltar may be made 
 the price of their acception. They fay the Dutch exprefs 
 the utmoft anger at having been treated fo contemptuoufly 
 on this occafion. I do not give you this news as abf 
 to be depended upon, but as the beft I can colled from thoie 
 on both fides who are luppofed to be beft informed 
 The reafonings upon it you may adopt or rejed, as you think 
 fit ; for I am far from being clear in any part of them. 
 They are probable ipeculations, and no more. 
 
 MaY YOU be always as well convinced of my love and 
 duty towards you, as I am of your affedion and regard to, 
 
 dear SiF ' Your dutiful fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 DEAR SIR, Stowe.Sept.ii. 
 
 W 
 
 HEN I came to lord B 's, I found that Pope had 
 excufed himfelf from his vifit there, as well as to 
 
 W V CXCU.1CU. IIllIJlvll iiwiii iiitj v 
 
 Haglev ; fo was obliged to keep the horfes to carry me to 
 Stowe' Lord B 's feat is a vaft defign ; and when it has 
 time to grow and form itfelf, there will be nothing in El 
 gland equal to it, in the great French manner of long lines, 
 extenfive woods, noble downs, dry foil, and immenhty o] 
 command. But at prefent it is only a fine (ketch, and moft 
 of its beauties are in idea. 
 
 I cannot fay it made me amends for the lofs ot Hagle) , , 
 which indeed I never left with more regret. The delire < 
 being with you would be enough to make me uneafy at par 
 ing from you ; but my concern and apprehenfions for you 
 health add a good deal to that uneafmefs. I am, with the 
 trueft refpea, and much more affeaion than I know h 
 to exprefs, dear Sir, 
 
 Your moft dutiful and obedient fon, 
 
 G. L.,fe 
 
 L E T T K K
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 545 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 DE A R SI R. Auguftn, 1737. 
 
 r T"> H E pleafure we felt at the birth of the young p efs 
 
 X has been clouded fmce, by a mefl&ge from the k , 
 exprefling the higheft refentment again ft his R. H. for car- 
 rying the princefs to lie in at St. James's, though it was 
 done at her own earneft defire ; and when the danger me 
 was in of wanting all neceffary help where me was (there 
 being neither midwife, nurfe, nor any thing there) gave the 
 p ce no time for deliberation. All thefe reafons and more 
 j were modeftly urged by his R. H. to juftify his condud, 
 and to appeaie the anger of the k in a letter he wrote in 
 aniwer to the meflage ; but not meeting with the fuccefs 
 which he hoped from it, and being ftill forbid to wait on his 
 m , he wrote a fecond, in which, waving all apologies, he 
 afked pardon in the mofl fubmiffive manner, and expreft the 
 greatefl affliaion at lying under his m 's difpleafure. To 
 which no anfwer was given, but that this letter being th 
 " fame in fubftance with the former, the k would make 
 " no other anfwer to it." Upon this foot it remains ; but 
 we have the folid fatisfaaion of feeing the p efs and child 
 both in good health, and likely to continue fo. .1 am, with 
 the moil grateful affeaion, dear Sir, 
 
 Your moft dutiful fon, 
 
 C. L. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 D E A R SIR, Auguft ,g. 
 
 1WI L L make no excufe for not writing to you fooner, 
 but that which I dare fay you have made for me in your 
 own thoughts, a very great and continual hurry of bufinefs. 
 I am much obliged to you for wifhing me at Hagley, and 
 can truly aflure you my wifliesare there too ; but it is quite 
 impoffible to think of it this year : howevever, do not be 
 in pain for fear I ihould be ill ; for, though the town is fo 
 Gckly, by great temperance and conftant riding about, I 
 have made Ihift to efcape this epidemical fever, and am eve- 
 ry way better in ray health than when you left me. The fitu- 
 ation the p is in does, I dare fay, givt you great concern, 
 as well as me. No fubmiffion on his fide has been wantin?, 
 to obtain a pardon for the'fault laid to his charge, and avoid s 
 a rupture of which that could be the caiife j but thofe fub- 
 N n miflions
 
 546 LETTERS TO 
 
 millions have not been able to prevent one, and a door is 
 (hut to all further applications, by his m having forbid 
 him to reply. t Another fubfequent order has occafi- 
 oned fome of his fervants laying down their offices ; and laft 
 Tuefday morning Mr. P 1 m, contrary to the talk of the 
 court, and I believe to the expectation of the p , refigned 
 the feals, which his R. H. unfollicited by me, and without 
 my expecting it, immediately gave to me. 
 
 I need not tell you, that while my being in his fervice 
 would have brought any difficulty upon his conduct or mine, 
 no confiderations mould have induced me to accept of this, 
 or any employment in his family ; but thofe doubts no lon- 
 ger fubfifting, I could not decline, with any refpect to him 
 or credit to myfelf, the honour of ferving him in the way 
 that he defired. I am, with the greateft refpect and af- 
 fection, dear Sir, 
 
 Your moft dutiful and obedient fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Cliffden, Oft. 22. 
 
 1C A M E here yefterday, to thank his R. H. for having 
 augmented my falary .240 a year, by putting it up- 
 on the fame foot with that of Mr. M y x, under the k 
 when he was p . 
 
 Befides the convenience this will be to me at this time 
 elpecially, I am pleafed with it as a mark of my royal ma- 
 fter's regard to me in the prefent conjuncture. 
 
 I fuppofe, by this time, you have heard that all the 
 thoughts of a winter's campaign in Old France are quite 
 laid afide ; and I congratulate you upon their being fo, as 
 we both judged alike of thole defigns. 
 
 There is very good news arrived from Germany ; Prince 
 Charles has entirely cut off all poflibility of marfhal Malle- 
 bois joining, either Broglio or the compte de Saxe ; upon 
 which the former is gone back to Prague, where he probably 
 muft foon perifh, or furrender at dilcretion. The latter is 
 fo difgufted, that it is laid he will lay down his command ; 
 and Mallebois is preparing to march back into France, or at 
 leaft to the French frontier, having declared to the emperor, 
 that he can do him no further fervice this year in Germany. 
 The elector of Saxony has refilled to let him have the provi- 
 fionshe had depended upon being fupplied with out of his ter- 
 ritories, and it is talked as if the Knglim army would march to 
 
 intercept
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 547 
 intercept his retreat ; but that I very much doubt. Belleifle 
 is abfolutely difgraced, and the German war appears to be 
 quite given up by the French. I believe you may depend 
 upon thefe accounts being true, as they come from the beft 
 authority ; but if all is not true, fo much at leaft is certain, 
 that the court is extremely elate upon it. I wifh things look- 
 ed as well at home ; but they bear a very gloomy face j the 
 difcontent of mankind in general being higher than ever, and 
 a very troublefome feflion expeaed. I can moft truly fay, 
 that nobody can feel for you with more affection than, dear 
 Sir, 
 
 Your moft dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G.L. 
 
 P. S. There are letters to-night, confirming what I have 
 told you of the ftate of the French in Germany, and 
 which further add, that Bencuelan, the Auftrian gene- 
 ral in Bavaria, has received a ftrong reinforcement. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Argyle-ftreet, Feb. 22, 1743. 
 
 WE have juft faved the fugar colonies from a fcheme 
 that would, I believe, have been very hurful to 
 them; and, inftead of it, agreed to-day to the taking the 
 ifurplus arifing from the late duty upon malt fpirits, which 
 will give us a fund to borrow the reft of the money we want, 
 at 3 per cent. A little time will, I fuppofe, clear up the myf- 
 tery of what France defigns ; as yet it feems very unaccount- 
 able, if they have not a greater force in the Mediterranean 
 than the government hece has any reafon to think that they 
 have. The Breft fleet might have gone thither three weeks 
 ago, without our being able to hinder, or follow them. 
 [Why they did not, I have not yet heard any fatisfaaory 
 Icaufe afligned ; perhaps a few days more will enable us to 
 prm a true judgement, whether they have aaed wifely, 
 pr played the fool. 
 
 I We have fad intelligence ; but from fuch as we have, we 
 Uarned to-day, that four or five of their men of war are in a 
 |)art of the Flemifh road, which they call the Graveline pits, 
 There it is hoped Sir John Norris may meet with them, and 
 Kive a good account of them. What is become of the reft 
 |)f their fleet, nobody knows. You will think that very 
 Krange, but we are fo ufed to it here, nobody wonders at 
 N n 2 t ;
 
 548 LETTERS TO 
 
 it ; fuch a ftate of ignorance being at prefent the natural 
 ftate of our government. I lemain, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful and affe&ionate fon, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 
 DEAR SIR, May <;, 1744- 
 
 MR. Weft comes with us to Hagley, and, if you give 
 me leave, I will bring our friend Thomfon too. 
 His Seafons will be publifhed in about a week's time, and a 
 moft noble work they will be. 
 
 I have no public news to tell you, which you have not 
 had in the Gazettes, except what is faid in private letters' 
 from Germany, of the king of Pruflia's having drank him- 
 felf into direct madnefs, and being confined on that account ; 
 which, if true, may have a great effect upon the fate of Eu- 
 rope at this critical time. Thofe letters fay, that, at a re- 
 view, he caufed two men to be taken out of the line, and 
 (hot, without any caufe afligned for it, and ordered a third 
 to be murdered in the fame manner; but the major of the 
 regiment venturing to intercede for him, his m y drew his 
 fword, and would have killed the officer too, if he, perceiv- 
 ing his madnefs, had not taken the liberty to fave himfclf, 
 by difarming the k , who was immediately fhut up, and 
 the q n, his mother, has taken the regency upon herfelf 
 till his recovery. I do not give you this news for certain, 
 but it is generally believed in town. Lord Chefterfieid fays, 
 he is only thought to be mad in Germany, becaufe he has, 
 more wit than other Germans. 
 
 The king of Sardinia's retreat from his lines at Villa Fran-j 
 ca, and the lofs of that town, certainly bear a very ill afpecl ;' 
 but it is not confidered as any dccifive advantage gained by 
 the enemy, becaufe the pafles that ftill remain, are much 
 ftronger than thofe they have forced. We expecl, with 
 impatience, to know what will be the effect of the Dutch : 
 embaflador to Paris. 
 
 I pray God the fummer may be happy to us, by being! 
 more eafy than ufual to you. It is the only thing wanting, j 
 to make Hagley park a paradife. 
 
 Poor Pope is, I am afraid, going to refign all that can di;j 
 of him to death ; his cafe is a dropfy, and he wants ftrcngtrjl 
 of nature to bear the neceflary evacuations for the curejM 
 that diftemper. I feel his lofs very fenfibly ; for, befideil 
 the public marks he has given me of his efteem, he has lat
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 545 
 
 ly exprefled the mod tender friendftup for me, both to my- 
 felf and others, which, at fuck a time, affects one more 
 than any compliment paid while he was in health. 
 I am, with the trueft refpect and affection, dear Sir, 
 Your moft dutiful {on, 
 
 G. L. 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 DEAR SIR, Jan. 17, 1747. 
 
 IT is a moft fenfible and painful addition to my concern 
 and affliction for my dear wife, 'to hear of your being 
 fo bad with the ftone ; and, loaded as my heart is with my 
 other grief, I cannot help writing this, to tell you how 
 much I feel for you, and how ardently I pray to God to 
 relieve you. 
 
 Laft night all my thoughts were employed on you ; for, 
 when I went to bed, my poor Lucy was fo much better, 
 ,that we thought her in a fair way of recovery ; but my u'n- 
 eafmefs for you kept me awake great part of the night, and 
 in the morning I found (he had been much worfe again, fo 
 that our alarm was as great as ever : me has fince mended 
 again, and is now pretty near as you heard laft port ; only 
 that fuch frequent relapfes give one more caufe to fear that 
 the good fymptoms, which fometimes appear, will not be 
 lafting. On the other 'hand, by her ftruggling fo long, 
 and her pulfe recovering itfelf fo well as it does after fuch 
 violent flurries, and fuch great finkings, one would hope 
 that nature is ftrong in her, and will be able, at laft, to 
 conquer her illnefs. 
 
 Sir Edward Hulfe feems now inclined to truft to that, 
 and to trouble her with no more phyfic ; upon which con- 
 dition alone ftie has been perfua'ded to take any food to day. 
 Upon the whol, her cafe is full of uncertainty, and the 
 doctors can pronounce nothing pofitively about her ; but 
 they rather think it will be an affair of time. For my own 
 health, it is yet tolerably good, though my heart has gone 
 through as fevere a trial as it can well fuftain ; more indeed, 
 than 1 thought it could have borne ; and you may depend 
 upon it, dear Sir, that I will make ufe of all the fupports that 
 religion or reafoncan give me, to fave me from finking un- 
 der it. I know the part you take in my life and health ; and 
 I know it is my duty to try not to add to your other pains, 
 that of my lofs, which thought has as great an effea upon 
 me as any thing can ; and I believe God Almighty fuppprts 
 N n 3 m ?
 
 550 LETTERS TO 
 
 me above my own ftrength, for the fake of my friends who 
 arc concerned for me, and in return for the resignation 
 with which I endeavour to fubmit to his will. If it pleafe 
 him> in his infinite mercy, to reftore my dear wife to me, 
 I fhall moft thankfully acknowledge his goodnefs ; if not, I 
 fhall moft humbly endure his chaftifement, which I have 
 too much delerved. 
 
 Thefe are the fentiments with which my mind is replete : 
 but as it is ftill a moft bitter cup, how my body will bear it, 
 if it muft not pafs from me, it is impoflible for me to fore- 
 tell : but I hope the beft. I once more pray God to relieve 
 you from that dreadful diftemper with which you are at- 
 
 Gilbert W would be happy in the reputation his book 
 has gained him, if my poor Lucy was not fo ill. Howe- 
 ver, his mind leans always to hope, which is an advantage 
 both to him and me, as it makes him a better comforter. 
 To be fure, we ought not yet to defpair ; but there is much, 
 to fear, and a moft melancholy interval to be fupported, 
 before any certainty comes God fend it may come well at 
 laft ! I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your moft afflicted, but moft affectionate fon, 
 
 Q. L. 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, April 25, 1747. 
 
 WHATEVER compliments have been made me a- 
 bout my laft fpeech (which have indeed been more 
 than I ever received upon any other occafion), I can very 
 truly aflure you, they did not give me one thoufandth part 
 of the pleafure which I feel from the fati&facVion that you 
 exprefs on that account. To have you pleafcd with my 
 conduct, and to contribute in any manner to your happi- 
 nefs, is the fupreme joy of my heart, and the btft object 
 of my ambition. Your affectionate prayers for me will, 
 I do not doubt, draw down the divine favour upon me, 
 and bring confolation to me in that affliction which ftill 
 hangs heavy upon me, though I do my utmoft to bear up 
 againft it. I pray God to enable me to deferve your blef- 
 fing, and corffider both the good and the evil of this world 
 as of no very great moment, except in the ufe that we 
 make of both. 
 
 The laft mail from Holl.nd brings an account that the 
 prince of Orange was on Wednefday laft declared in full 
 
 form
 
 SIR THOMAS LYTTELTON. 551 
 form ftadtholder of the Seven Provinces, Befides the pre- 
 lent effe&s of this great revolution, which I hope will be 
 good and beneficial to us if a right ufe be made of it, the 
 lolid and permanent union, that in all probability will be 
 eftablimed by it between us and the Dutch, muft be a great 
 future^ ad vantage. The duke is at the head of a brave ar- 
 my of 1 10,000 men, within fix miles of Antwerp; he can- 
 not ftay there two days, for want of forage and other 
 neceflaries, without either taking the town, or beating 
 the French. 
 
 To do the firft, he muft begin by doing the laft (as I 
 heard general Hufke fay to-day) and it will be no eafy mat- 
 ter ; becaufe they are pofted upon very ftrong ground. 
 
 Poflibly he may contrive by marches and counter-march- 
 es to get beyond them, but it appears a difficult work. If a 
 batttle is fought where they are now, it will be a bloody one. 
 I wait with anxious impatience for the event. 
 
 There has been a fmart (kirmifti between one part of our 
 army, and a detachment of theirs, to our advantage; 1000 
 French being killed, with no confiderable lofs on our fide. 
 This will help to put fpirit into our troops, who are alrea- 
 dy in very good heart. We hear that Medley has picked 
 up a whole Spanifh regiment going to Genoa (I wilh it 
 had been a French one) and 200 French. I forgot to men- 
 tion that Sas Van Ghent is faid to be taken, but Hulft ftill 
 holds out. Thefe however are petty events, compared to 
 the great one in view. If one could credit a report that is 
 come of Genoa's being taken, that would be fomething. 
 But the poft is going out ; fo I can add no more, but that 
 I am, moft affectionately, dear Sir, 
 
 Your dutiful fon, &c. 
 
 G, L. 
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 DEAR SIR, London, April, 26, 1748. 
 
 I MOST heartily wifli you joy of the happy and amaz- 
 ing event of the preliminaries being figned, at a time 
 when even the moft fanguine among us expected nothing 
 but ruin from the continuance of the war, and almoft def- 
 paired of a peace ; in a month's time or lefs, not only 
 Maeftricht would have been taken, but Holland invaded ; 
 
 and the d of C , to oppofe that invafion, had 
 
 fcarce a third part of the enemy's force. Orders had alfo 
 N n 4 been
 
 552 LETTERS, &c, 
 
 been given to blow up and demolifh all the fortifications of 
 
 Tournay, Ypres, Namur, and Bergenopz-oom. 
 
 Yet the peace we have obtained is upon the whole a 
 better for England, than that which was offered laft year by 
 count Saxe. Neither the diftrefles of France with regard 
 to her commerce and her finances, though very great, nor 
 any other apparent caufe can fufficiently account for her 
 granting fuch a peace, and flopping (hort in the midft of 
 fuch a career. It muft be the work of a faction in her 
 court, which our minifters have had the good fenfe to a- 
 vail themfelves of ; and it has drawn us out of greater dif- 
 trefles and difficulties than can be conceived by thofe who 
 do not know the interior of our affairs. Had we been in 
 the fituation of 'France, and France in ours, I will venture 
 to fay, no Englifh minifter would have dared to fign fuch a 
 peace, not even thofe minifters who figned the peace of 
 Utrecht. In fhort, it // the Lord's doing, and it if marvel- 
 lous in our eyes. The court of Vienna is angry at prefent, 
 but me muft come to reafon foon ; and had we ftayed to 
 make peace till (he was pleafed, we muft have ftayed till 
 our utter deftru&ion. The king of Sardinia has not yet 
 figned ; but his language is much more moderate than hers, 
 and no doubt he will foon come in. His minifter here fays, 
 had he been at Aix, he would not have hefitated to fign one 
 moment. There can be no doubt of the acquiefcence of 
 Spain to what France has ftipulated for her, though the 
 Spanim minifter has not yet fet his hand to it. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir ! may the good news revive your fpirits. 
 and be a confolation to you for my poor mother's death ! 
 Kifs my fon for me, give him my blefling ; and tell him, 
 I now hope he will inherit Hagley, mftead of fome French 
 marquis, or Highland laird, who I was afraid would have 
 got it if the war had continued. I am, dear Sir, with the 
 utmoft affe&ion, 
 
 Your moft dutiful and obedient fon, 
 
 G. L. ! 
 
 N. B. Maeftricht is given up to France, to be re-delUi 
 ycred to us again. 
 
 ACCOUNT.
 
 [ 553 ] 
 
 ACCOUNT 
 
 O F 
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES: 
 
 IN TWO LETTERS 
 
 T O 
 
 MR. BOWER. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Brynker, in Carnarvonfliire, July 6, 17156. 
 
 IW RI TE this from the foot of Snowdon, which I pro- 
 poled to afcend this afternoon ; but, alas ! the top of it, 
 and all the fine profpects which I hoped to fee from thence, 
 are covered with rain : I therefore fit down to write you an 
 account of my travels' thus far, as I promifed when I left 
 you, and to latisfy your defire of feeing North Wales in de- 
 icription at leaft, fince you are not at leifure to accompany 
 me thither. 
 
 I fet out from Bewdley, with Mr. D and Mr. P , on 
 Tuefday laft. In our way thence to Ludlow, we faw Sir 
 
 E. B 's, in a charming fituation for the beauty of the 
 
 profpecls, but too much expofed, and in a dirty country. 
 The houfe is fpoiled by too large and too fine a ftair-cafe 
 and hall, to which the other rooms are by no means propor- 
 tioned. Some of them are wainfcotted and inlaid very fine- 
 ly. There is a park, which would be more beautiful, if 
 the mafter of it had a little more tafte. I hear his fon has 
 a good one ; but the baronet himfelf hath not much more 
 than his anceflor, who was killed by E. Douglas, at the bat- 
 tle of Shrewfbury. From this place we proceeded to the 
 Clee Hill, a mountain you have often feen from my park ; 
 it affords a lovely profpecl: on every fide, but it is more dif- 
 ficult to pafs over than any in Wales, that I have yet feen ; 
 being covered all over with loofe ftones, or rather with pieces 
 of rocks. However, we pafled it without any hurt to our- 
 felves or horfes. 
 
 Ludlow is a fine, handfome town, and has an old caftle, 
 now in a negle&ed and ruinous ftate ; but which, by its re- 
 mains, appears to have been once a very ftrong fortrefs, and 
 
 ' in
 
 554 ACCOUNT OF 
 
 an habitation very fuitable to the power and dignity of the 
 lord prefident of Wales, who refided there. Not far from 
 this town is Okely Park, belonging to lord Powis, and part 
 of that foreft which Milton, in his mafque, fuppofes to have 
 been inhabited by Comus and his rout. The god is now van- 
 quiflied : but, at the revolution of every leven years, his 
 rout does not fail to keep up orgies there, and in the neigh- 
 bouring town ; as lord Powis knows to his coft, for he has 
 fpent twenty or thirty thoufand pounds in entertaining them 
 at thefe feafons ; which is the reafon that he has no houle 
 at this place fit for him to live in. He talks of building one 
 in the park, and the fituation deferves it ; for there are ma- 
 ny fcenes, which not only Comus, but the lady of Milton's 
 mafque, would have taken delight in, if they had received 
 the improvements they are capable of, from a man of good 
 tafte ; but they are as yet very rude and neglected. In our 
 way from hence to Montgomery, we pafled through a coun- 
 try very romantic and pleatant, in many fpots ; in which we 
 faw farms fo well fituated, that they appeared to us more 
 delightful fituations than Clermont or Burleigh. At laft we 
 came by a gentleman's houfe, on the fide of a hill opening 
 to a fweet valley ; which feemed to be built in a tafte much 
 fnperior to that of a mere country efquire. We therefore 
 flopt, and defired to fee it, which curiofity was well paid 
 for : we found it the neateft and beft houfe, of a moderate 
 fize, that ever we faw. The mafter, it feems, was bred 
 to the law, but quitted the profefllon about fifteen years 
 ago, and retired into the country, upon an eftate of .500 
 per hnnunij with a wife and four children ; notwithstanding 
 which incumbrances, he found means to fit up the houfe in 
 the manner we faw it, with remarkable elegance, and to 
 plant all the hill about him with groves and clumps of trees, 
 that, together with an admirable profpeft feen from it, ren- 
 der it a place which a monarch might envy, J3ut, to let 
 you fee how vulgar minds value fuch improvements, I muft 
 tell you an anfwer made by our guide, who was fervant to 
 lord Powis's fteward, and fpoke, I prefume, the fenfe of his 
 mafter, upon our exprefling fome wonder that this gentle- 
 man had been able to do fo much with fo fmall a fortune ; 
 <( I do not, faid he, know how it is, but he is always do- 
 ing fome nonfenfe or other." I apprehend mcft of my neigh- 
 bours would give the- fame account of my improvements at 
 Hagley. 
 
 Montgomery town is no better than a village ; and all that 
 remains of an old caftle there, is a"bout a third part of a ru-
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES. 555 
 inous tourer : but nothing can be finer than the fituation of 
 it and the profped. It maft have been exceeding ftrong in 
 ancient times, and able to refift all the forces of the Welih ; 
 to bridle them, it was built in the reign of William Rufus ; 
 three fides of it are a precipice quite inacceflible, guarded 
 with a deep and broad ditch. I was forry that more of fo 
 noble a caftle. did not remain, but glad to think, that, by 
 our incorporating union with the Welfh, this and many o- 
 thers, which have been ere&ed to iecure the neighbouring 
 counties of England againft their incurfions, or to maintain 
 our fovereignty over that fierce and warlike people, are now 
 become ufelefs. 
 
 From hence we travelled, with infinite pleafure (through 
 the moft charming country my eyes ever beheld, or my ima-r 
 gination can paint) toPowis Caftle, part of which was burnt 
 down about thirty years ago ; but there are {till remains of 
 a great houfe, fituated fo finely, and fo nobly, that, were 
 I in the place of lord Powis, I mould forfake Okely Park, 
 with all its beauties, and fix my feat as near there, as the 
 moft eligible in evety refpect. About ^.3000 laid out up- 
 on it, would make it the moft auguft place in the kingdom. 
 It ftands upon the fide of a very high hill ; below lies a vale 
 of incomparable beauty, with the Severn winding through 
 jt, the town of Welfh-Pool, terminated with high moun- 
 tains. The oppofite fide is beautifully cultivated hajf way 
 up, and green to the top, except in one or two hills, whofe 
 fummits are rocky, and of grotefque fhapes, that give va- 
 riety and fpirit to the profpect. Above the caftle is a long 
 ridge of hills finely (haded, part of which is the park ; and 
 ftill higher is a terrace, up to which you are led through 
 very fine lawns, from whence you have a view that exceeds 
 all defcription. The county of Montgomery, which lies alj 
 within this view, is to my eyes the moft beautiful in South 
 Britain ; and though I have not been in Scotland, I cannot 
 believe I mail find any place there fuperior, or equal, to 
 it ; becaufe the highlands are all uncultivated, and the low- 
 lands want wood ; whereas this country is admirably fhaded 
 with hedge-rows. It has a lovely mixture of corn-fields an4 
 meadows, though more of the latter. The vales and bot- 
 toms are large, and the mountains, that rife like a rampart 
 all around, add a magnificence and grandeur to the fcene, 
 without giving you any horror or dreadful ideas, becaufe at 
 Powis Caftle they appear at fuch a diftance as not to deftroy 
 the beauty and foftnefs of the country between them. There 
 are indeed fome high hills within that inclofure, but, being 
 
 woody
 
 556 A C C O U N T O F 
 
 woody and green, they make a more pleafing variety, and 
 take off nothing from the prolpe&. The caftle has an old- 
 falhioned garden juft under it, which a few alterations might 
 make very pretty ; for there is a command of water and 
 wood in it, which may be fo managed as to produce all the 
 beauties that art can add to what liberal nature has fo lavifti- 
 ly done for this place. We went from thence to fee Peftill 
 Rhaider, a famous cafcade ; but it did not quite anfwer my 
 expectations, for though the fall is fo high, the ftream is 
 but narrow, and it wants the complement of wood, the wa- 
 ter falling like a fpout on an even defcent, down the mid- 
 dle of a wide naked rock, without any breaks to fcatter the 
 water. Upon the whole, it gave me but little pleafure. 
 
 After having feen the Velino, we lay that night at the 
 houfe of a gentleman who had the care of lord Powis'slcad 
 mines ; it (lands in a valley, which feems the abode of quiet 
 and fecurity, furrounded with very high mountains on all 
 .fides; but in itfelf airy, foft, and agreeable. Ifamanwas 
 ciifpofed to forget the world, and be forgotten by it> he 
 could not find a more proper place. In.fomeof thofe moun- 
 tains are veins of lead ore, which have been fo rich as to 
 produce in time pad . 20,000 per annum, to the old duke 
 of Powis, but they are not near fo valuable now. Perhaps, 
 holy father ', you will objet, that the idea of wealth dug up 
 in this place does not confift with that retirement. I agree 
 it does not ; but, all the wealth being hid under ground, 
 the eye fees nothing there but peace and tranquility. 
 
 The next morning we afcended the mountain of Berwin, 
 one of the higheft in Wales ; and when we came to the top 
 ot it, a profpe& opened to us, which ftruck the mind with 
 awful aftonifhment. Nature is in all her majefty there ; 
 .but it is the majefty of a tyrant, frowning over the ruins and 
 defolation of a country. The enormous mountains, or ra- 
 ther rocks, of Ivlerionethfhire inclofed us all around. There 
 is not upon thefe mountains a tree or fhrub, or a blade of 
 grafs ; nor did we fee any marks of habitations or culture in 
 the whole fpace. Between them is a folitude fit for Defpair 
 to inhabit ; whereas all we had feen before in Wales feemed 
 formed to infpire the meditations of Love. We were fome 
 hours in crofling this defart, and then had the view of a fine 
 woody vale, but narrow and deep, through which a rivulet 
 ran as clear and rapid as your Scotch burns, winding in very 
 agreeable forms, with a very pretty cafcade. On the cci^e . 
 of this valley we travelled on foot, for the fteepnefs of t!ie 
 road would not allow us to ride without fome danger ; and 
 
 in
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES, 55? 
 in about half an hour we came to a more open country, 
 though (till inclofed with hills, in which we faw the town of 
 Bala with its beautiful lake. The town is fmall and ill-built ; 
 but the lake is a fine object : it is about three miles in length, 
 and one in breadth, the water of it is clear, and of a bright 
 filver colour. The river Dee runs through very rich mea- 
 dows ; at the other end are towering high mountains ; on 
 the fides are grafly hills, but not fo well wooded as I could 
 wifli them to be : there is alfo a bridge of ftone built over 
 the river, and a gentleman's houfe which embellimes the 
 profpect. But what Bala is moft famous for is the beauty of 
 its women, and indeed I there faw fome of the prettieft girls 
 I ever beheld. The lake produces very fine trout, and a 
 fifh called whiting, peculiar to itfelf, and of fo delicate a 
 tafte, that I believe you would prefer the flavour of it to 
 the lips of the fair maids at Bala. 
 
 After we left the banks of the lake, where we had an a- 
 greeable day, we got again into the defart ; but leis horrid 
 than I have already defcribed, the vale being more fertile, 
 and feeding fome cattle. Nothing remarkable occurred iu 
 our ride, until we came toFeftiniog, a village inMerioneth- 
 fhire, the vale before which is the moft perfectly beautiful 
 of all we had feen. From the height of this village you have 
 a view of the fea. The hills are green, and well (haded 
 with wood. There is a lovely rivulet, which winds through 
 the bottom ; on each fide are meadows, and above are corn 
 fields along the fides of the hills ; at each end are high 
 mountains, which feemed placed there to guard this charm- 
 ing retreat againft any invaders. With the woman one loves, 
 with the friend of one's heart, and a good ftudy of books, 
 one might pafs an age there, and think it a day. If you 
 have a mind to live long, and renew your youth, come with 
 Mrs. Bower, and fettle at FetVmiog. Not long ago there 
 died in that neighbourhood an honeft Welfh farmer, who 
 was 105 years of age ; by his firft wife he had 30 children, 
 10 by his fecond, 4 by his third, and 7 by two concubines ; 
 his youngeft fon was 81 years younger than his eldeft, and 
 800 perfons defcended from his body attended his funeral. 
 When we had flurted this happy vale an hour or two, we 
 came to a narrow branch of the fea, which is dry at low 
 water. As we patted over the fands, we were furprized to 
 fee that all the cattle preferred that barren place to the mea- 
 dows. The guide faid, it was to avoid a fly, which in the 
 heat of the day came out of the woods, and infefted them 
 In the valleys. The view of the faid fands are terrible, as 
 
 they
 
 558 ACCOUNTOF 
 
 they are hemmed in on each fide with very high hills, but 
 broken into a thoufand irregular fhapes. At one end is the 
 ocean, at the other the formidable mountains of Snowdon, 
 black and naked rocks, which feemed to be piled ^>ne above 
 the other. The fummits of fome of them are covered with 
 clouds, and cannot be afcended. They do altogether ftrong- 
 ly excite the idea of Burnet, of their being the fragment of 
 a demoliftied world. The rain which was falling when I be- 
 gan to write this letter did not laft long ; it cleared up after 
 dinner and gave us a fine evening, which employed us in ri- 
 ding along the fea coaft, which is here very cold. 
 
 The grandeur of the ocean, correfponding with that of 
 the mountain, formed a majertic and folemn fcene ; ideas 
 of immenfity fwelled and exalted our minds at the fight ; all 
 lefler objects appeared mean and trifling, fo that we could 
 hardly do juftice to the ruins of an old caftle, fituated upon 
 the top of a conical hill, the foot of which is warned by 
 the fea, and which has every feature that can give a roman- 
 tic appearance. 
 
 This morning (July 7) being fair, we ventured to climb 
 up the top of a mountain, not indeed fo high as Snowdon, 
 which is here called Moel Guidon, /'. e. the nefl of the 
 eagle ; but one degree lower than that called Moel Hap- 
 pock, the neft of the hawk ; from whence we faw a phe- 
 nomenon, new to our eyes, but common in Wales ; on the 
 one fide was midnight, on the other bright day ; the whole 
 extent of the mountain of Snowdon on our left hand, was 
 wrapped in clouds, from top to bottom ; but on the right 
 the fun fhone moft glorioufly oveY the fea -coaft of Carnar- 
 von. The hill we ftood upon was perfectly clear, the way 
 we came up a pretty eafy afcent; but before us was a pre- 
 cipice of many hundred yards, and below, a vale, which 
 though not cultivated, has much favage beauty ; the fides 
 were fleep, and fringed with low wood, 
 
 There were two little lakes, or rather large pools, that 
 ftood in the bottom, from which iflued a rivulet, that fef- 
 pentincd in view for two or three miles, and was a pleafing 
 relief to the eyes. 
 
 But the mountains of Snowdon, covered with darknefs 
 and thick clouds, called to my memory the fall of Mount 
 Sinai, with the laws delivered from it, and filled my mind 
 with religious awe. 
 
 This afternoon we propofe going to Carnarvon, and you 
 may expect a continuation of my travels from Shrewlbury, 
 which is our laft ftage. Through the whole round of them
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES. 559 
 we heartily wiflied for you, and your friend Browne, and 
 
 your friend Mrs. S , who is a paflionate admirer of 
 
 profpe&s : and that you could have borrowed the chariot 
 of fome gracious fairy, or courteous enchanter, and flown 
 through the air with us. You know I always admired 
 
 Mrs. S for the greatnefs of her tafte, and lublime love 
 
 of nature, as well as for all her other perfections. Adieu, 
 my dear Bower. I am perfectly well, eat like a horfe y and 
 Jleep like a monk ; fo that I may, by this ramble, preierve 
 A (lock of health, that may laft all winter, and carry me 
 through my parliamentary campaign. If you write to the 
 Madona *, do not fail to aflure her of my trued devo- 
 tion. The moft zealous Welfh catholic does not honour 
 St. Winifred more than I do her. I wifh you may not be 
 tired with ray travels ; but you know I am performing my 
 promife. 
 
 I remain your's, &c. 
 
 LYTTELTON. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 DEAR BOWER, Shrewfoury, July 14, 1756. 
 
 MY laft letter ended in fetting out for Carnarvon, 
 where I arrived that afternoon. I had a very fine 
 view of the fea, and one of the fineft towns I had feen in 
 England or Wales ; the old waHs of which, with their 
 towers and bulwarks, are almoft entire; they are high and 
 flrongly built. The towers are round, and rather more of 
 the Roman than Gothic form of architecture. At one end 
 they join to the wall of the caftle, which is a vaft and no- 
 ble building, of which the outfide is likewife well preferv- 
 ed, but the infide is demolimed. The people here mew 
 the remains of a chamber, where king Edward the fecond 
 was born, and received the fubmiflion of all the nobility 
 in Wales in his cradle. The caftle itfelf was built by his 
 father, and is indeed a noble work. 
 
 As we rode from Carnarvon, the country about was fof- 
 tened into a fcene of the moft pleafing kind, and was ren- 
 dered more fo by the contraft with that from which we 
 came. We travelled along the fhore from Menai, an arm 
 of the fea, as broad as the Thames, over-againft lord 
 Duncannon's. Our road led us over fine fhady lawns, per- 
 fumed fo with honey-fuckles, that they were a paradifeito. 
 
 * A lady, to whom her friends gave that appellation. 
 
 Over
 
 560 ACCOUNTOF 
 
 Over gentle hills, from whence we had a lovely view of 
 the Menai and the ifle of Anglefea, which lies on the op- 
 pofite fide of it, and then loft them again in agreeable val- 
 leys, like thofe of Reading, or the Hertfordftiire vales. 
 We enjoyed thofe fcenes for fome miles, till we came into 
 a ferry, by which we pafled into Anglefea, and landed at 
 the feat of Sir Nicholas Bailey, which is the pleafanteft 
 fpot in the ifland. He has Gotherized an old houfe with 
 good judgement and tafte. The view from it is charming; 
 he fees the fweet country through which we had travelled, 
 from Carnarvon to Snowdon above it, which ennobles the 
 profpect ; the Menai winds, in a moft beautiful manner, 
 jufl under his windows ; his woods made the banks of it on 
 each fide of it, quite down to the water; above which, in- 
 termixed with them, are ever-green lawns, which, if help- 
 ed with a very little art, would, together with his wood, 
 make a garden, or park, of the moft perfect beauty ; but 
 all is yet in a rude and neglected ftate. From thence we 
 went to Baron-hill, the feat of lord Bulkeley, above the 
 town of Beaumaris, in the fame ifland ; it has a view of 
 the fea, and coaft of Carnarvon, which is indeed very fine ; 
 but I think inferior to that of lord Edgecombe's, with which 
 I have heard it compared. The houfe is a bad one ; thfi 
 gardens are made in a very fine tafte ; but upon the whole, 
 I like it much lefs than Sir N. Bayley's, though the repu- 
 tation of the former is greater in Wales. 
 
 All the reft of the ifle of Anglefea is a naked and unplea- 
 fant country, without a tree or hedge to be feen in it, un- 
 cultivated fttll from the obftinacy of the people, in adher- 
 ing to the ignorance of their forefathers ; fo that I am told it 
 does not produce the tenth part of what the land is capable 
 of, if improved by the agriculture of England. From 
 Beaumaris we rode over the fands, at low water, to Pen- 
 roan Mawr, a high and rocky mountain, the pafTage over 
 which muft have been very frightful, before they built a 
 wall along the edge of the road, which fecures you from 
 the danger of falling down the precipice that is below it 
 into the fea ; but with this guard it is very agreeable, the 
 profpecl of the fea and country being very fine. 
 
 I never faw any thing that ft ruck me more than the firft 
 view of Conway caftle, to which we foon came after paf- 
 fing this mountain ; it was built by Edward the fiift, in 
 much the fame ftylc with that of Carnarvon ; but ftrongcr 
 and more regular. The fituation is noble, and it ft.mds 
 u^on a rock of confiderablc; height - t inftead of a ditch,
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES. 5 6t 
 three fides of it are defended by an arm of the fea, and 
 four turrets that rife above the towers, befides two others 
 at one end, {landing below the others, about the middle of 
 the rock, that over-hangs the fea. The walls between are 
 battlements, and look very ftrong ; they are, in fome pla- 
 ces, fourteen or fifteen feet thick, in none lefs than twelve. 
 The whole together hath the grandeft appearance of any 
 building I ever beheld, efpecially as the walls of the town, 
 which are built like thofe of Carnarvon, but with bolder 
 and handfomer towers, appear right in one view to the eye 
 with the caftle, when firft you approach it. All the out- 
 fide remains, except one tower, as in the time of Edward 
 the firft ; and that was not demolimed either with battering 
 engines or with cannons, but by the people of the place 
 taking ftones from the foundation, for their own ufe, 
 whenever they pleafed ; the confequence of which was, 
 the greateft part of the tower fell into the fea : but the 
 upper part more furprizingly continues ftill firm in the 
 form of an arch ; and lord Hertford, the prefent pro- 
 prietor, hath forbid any dilapidation for the future. 
 We were told his grandfather would have lived in this 
 caftle, could he have purchafed any lands in the coun- 
 try about ; but finding none to be fold, he dropped the 
 defign. 
 
 I wifh he had purfued it, for then we might have feen 
 the infide intire ; a fight which would have given me a 
 great deal of pleafure. But now the floors, cielings, and 
 roofs, are all taken away, fo that we can hardly guefs at 
 its ancient magnificence. The hall muft have been a 
 noble room ; it is 100 feet long, 30 wide, and 30 
 high ; the roof was fupported by very beautiful arches, 
 which ftill remain. There are two chimneys in it, and it 
 was well lighted. The ftone-work of the windows is 
 exceeding handfome. Had our friend Millar (the builder 
 of Hagley houfe) been with us, he would have fallen 
 down and adored the architect. The eight towers feem 
 to have contained three very good bed-chambers each, 
 placed one above another, befides fome upper rooms. 
 The chambers are 18 feet diameter, except one called 
 the king's chamber, which has a bow window, gained 
 
 t of the thicknefs of the wall ; and the room is by 
 
 t means extended about 30 feet ; over the arch of 
 window, are the arms of Edward the firft. 
 
 This and all the other chambers appear to the eye 12 or 
 13 feet high : but I am promifed an accurate plan of the 
 O o
 
 562 ACCOUNT OF 
 
 whole by one of the country. It certainly merits very par- 
 ticular examination ; but I mould have been more curious 
 about it, had it been built in Henry the Second's time. 
 From Conway caftle, we travelled half a day's journey 
 through a very romantick country, to Rudland, or rather 
 Land-caftle, the remains of which are lefs perfect than 
 Carnarvon or Conway ; nor was it ever equal to them, 
 either in extent or beauty, which I am forry for, as /'/ wat 
 built by Henry the Second. Not far from hence, at a place 
 called Bodrudan, we pafled a rainy day in a very comforta- 
 ble manner, with an old acquaintance of mine, who is the 
 lady of the caftle, and hath forbid all depredations, which 
 the people of the neighbourhood ufed to make, by taking it 
 down to build and repair their houfes and pigfties, which 
 would have demolished it like the tower of Conway. 
 The next morning we went to the tops of the hill, from 
 whence we had a view of the whole vale of Clwydd, 
 from one end to the other, which is equalled by none in 
 England for fertility and beauty. There is neither moun- 
 tain or rock to be feen in any part of it : after you turn 
 your back upon Rudland, the hills on one fide of it rife 
 very gradually by gentle afcents : moft of them are cul- 
 tivated quite to their fummits, others half way up ; and 
 when the tops are not enclofed, they are a fine grafly 
 down, like Clent-hill, and (haded and enlivened with 
 wood, like the (lopes in my park; but yet I prefer the 
 fcencs in Montgomery mire to this lively vale : there is a 
 great beauty in this, but there is no majefty ; whereas 
 there, as in the mind of our friend the madona, the foft 
 and the agreeable is mixed with the noble, the great, 
 and the fublime. About the middle of this vale, upon 
 the brow of a hill, (lands Denbigh caftle, a very fine 
 ruin ; it enclofes as much ground as Conway or Carnar- 
 von, but hat!) not fo much building. The towers of it 
 are (landing at a very confidcrable diftance from one 
 another, being fewer in number ; but they are in the 
 fame ftyle of architecture, having been built in the rei^n 
 of the fame king, who by thefe ftrong fortreffes fccured 
 to himfelf and his pofterity the dominion of North 
 Wales. The hall is ftill pretty entire, and rivals that of* 
 Conway, except that the roof doth not appear to have been* 
 arched. 
 
 The towers are all in .1 ruinous ftate ; I think it a pity 
 nnd fhame to the owner, tint more care is not taken to pre-* 
 ferve fuch refpclable remains of antiquity. When we left 
 
 the
 
 A JOURNEY INTO WALES. 563 
 the vale of Clwydd, we went into a barren and mountain- 
 ous country, which continued from Rythin as far as Wrex- 
 ham. 
 
 The church of the latter is called one of the wonders of 
 Wales ; it does indeed equal, if not exceed, any in En- 
 gland. I have not defcribed to you the cathedral of Bangor 
 or St. Afaph ; the firft I did not fee, and I was told it was 
 not worth feeing the latter hath nothing in it to deferve 
 defcription : neverthelefs I mould be glad to fee the dean of 
 
 E well feated in either of them, or rather at St. Afaph. 
 
 From Wrexham we went to Wynftay, the feat of Sir Wat- 
 kin Williams Wynn. Part of the houfe is old ; but he had 
 begun building a new one before his death, in a very good 
 tafte. One wing is finimed, and that alone makes a very 
 agreeable houfe. The view from it is the mod chearful I 
 ever beheld ; it (lands in the middle of a very pretty park, 
 and looks over that into a moft delightful country ; but if 
 the park was extended a little farther, it would take in a 
 hill, with the view of a valley, moft beautifully wooded ; 
 and the river Dee winding .in fo romantic and charming a 
 manner, that I think it exceeds that of Feftiniog, or any 
 confined profpect I ever beheld : among other objects that 
 embellim the fcene, there is a fine bridge of ftone. Tell 
 
 Mrs. C S , I would have her leave Clermont, and 
 
 the banks of the Thames, and build a houfe in this lovely fpot. 
 I will vifit her every year ; fhe will not be at any expence 
 in making a garden, for nature hath made one to her hands, 
 infinitely better than that of S . Upon one of the neigh- 
 bouring hills, which hath the fame profpe& as this, one 
 Mr., Yorke has a feat, which I only faw at adiftance ; and 
 which, I am told by a lady at Shrewfbury of a good tafte, 
 excels any Wales for natural beauty. 
 
 Indeed the country, for five or fix mites, is of another 
 temper, exceedingly fertile, and very romantic. While I 
 was looking at it, I aked Mr. P , " Whether he thought 
 it pofiible for the eyes to behold a more pleafing fight ? " 
 He faid, " Yes ; the fight of a woman one loves." My 
 anfwer was, " When I was in love I thought fo. 
 
 Our laft vifit in Wales was to Chirk-caftle ; it was de- 
 ftroyed in the civil wars, and hath been rebuilt ; it is a bad 
 imitation of an old caftle; the moft difagreeable dwelling- 
 houfe I ever faw ; nor is there any magnificence to make 
 amends for the want of convenience ; the rooms are large 
 indeed in one part, but much too low ; and the cielings are
 
 564 ACCOUNT OF, &c. 
 
 fo heavy with clumfy fret- work, that they feem ready to 
 fall upon one's head ; it has a fine extenfive profpeft, but 
 no other beauty of any kind, nor is the profped to be 
 compared with fome we have feen at the other caftles in 
 Wales. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 LYTTELTON. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 
 

 
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