UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 CALIFORNIA 

 
 THE 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 O F 
 
 Sir Thomas Fitzofborne, 
 
 O N 
 
 SEVERAL SUBJECTS* 
 
 dbfentis pignus amicifi*. MART. 
 THE SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 L O N D O N, 
 
 Printed for R. and J. DODSLEX in Pallmall. 
 
 MDCCI 
 
 117049
 
 
 -. 
 
 THE 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Letter I. to C L Y T A N D E R : 
 
 /Concerning enthufiafm, Page i 
 
 Letter II. to P H i L o T E s : 
 
 On portrait painting , 4 
 
 Letter III. toPAtAMEDEs: 
 
 Reflections on the Ro?nan triumphs, 10 
 
 Letter IV. toPniLOTEs: 
 On his travels, j 6 
 
 Letter V. toCtyTANDER: 
 
 On the 'veneration paid to the antients t 20 
 
 Letter VI. to ORONTES: 
 The char after of Varus, 23 
 
 Letter VII. to HORTENSI u s : 
 
 Returning him thanks for a prejent of brawn: 
 a 2 with
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 with an account of the author's manner 
 of celebrating the fe aft, Page 26 
 
 Letter VIII. to CLYTANDER: 
 In favor of a particular providence, 28 
 
 Letter IX. to TIMOCLEA: 
 A panegyric upon riddles, 37 
 
 Letter X. to PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 Reflections uponfriendfoip, 42 
 
 Letter XL to HORTENSIUS : 
 Againjl modern Latin poetry, 47 
 
 .Letter XII. to A M A s i A : 
 With a tale, 52 
 
 Letter XIII. to PHI'LOTES: 
 
 Written in a jit of the f pie en, 57 
 
 Letter XIV. 'to O R o N T E s : 
 
 Concerning the neglect of oratorical num- 
 bers. Obfervations upon Dr. Ti/toffon's 
 Jlyle rfhe care of the antient orators with 
 rejpeft to numerous compofition, Jlated and 
 recommended, 59 
 
 Letter XV. to C L E o R A : 68 
 
 Letter
 
 CONTENTS. v 
 
 Letter XVI. to PHI LOT ES: 
 
 Againft cruelty to infetts, Page 69 
 
 Letter XVII. to the fame : 
 Upon his marriage, 73 
 
 Letter XVIII. toHoRTENSius. 
 Reflections upon the pajjion of fame, 75 
 
 Letter XIX. to C L E o R A : 
 
 "Rallying her t aft e for myftical and romance 
 writers, 80 
 
 Letter XX. to EUPHRONIUS: 
 
 Obfervations upon fome paffages in Mr. Pope's 
 tranjlation of the Iliad, 82 
 
 Letter XXI. to CL FOR A: 93 
 
 Letter XXII. to PALEMON : 
 Againft filicide, 96 
 
 Letter XXIII. to CLYTANDER: 
 
 Concern! tig his intentions to marry. The 
 character of Amapa, 102 
 
 Letter XXIV. to O R o N T E s : 
 
 On metaphors, 105 
 
 a 3 Letter
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Letter XXV. to PHILOTES: 
 
 Page izi 
 
 Letter XXVI. to PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 Reflections on generofity, 123 
 
 Letter XXVII. to SAPPHO: 
 a young lady of thirteen years of age, 127 
 
 Letter XXVIII. to PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 Reflections upon the fentiments, of the antients. 
 concerning friend/hip, 129 
 
 Letter XXIX. to the fame : 
 Upon grace in writing, 134 
 
 Letter XXX. IOCLYTANDER: 
 
 Concerning the love of our country , 138 
 
 Letter XXXI. to PAL A ME DES : 144 
 
 Letter XXXII. to the fame : 
 'The author's resolution to continue in retire- 
 ment, 1 45, 
 
 Letter XXXIII. toPALEMON: 
 The character of Hortenfia, 148 
 
 Letter XXXIV. to HORTEN sius : 
 Concerning felf -reverence > 155 
 
 Letter
 
 CONTENTS. vii 
 
 Letter XXXV. to C L E o R A : 
 
 with an ode upon their 'wedding day, 
 
 Page 157 
 
 Letter XXXVI. to C LYTA N D E R ; 
 
 Reafons for the author's retirement : a de- 
 fcription of thejituation of his villa, 162 
 
 Letter XXXVII. toHoRTENSius: 
 
 Concerning the Jlyle of Horace in his moral 
 writings, 166 
 
 Letter XXXVIII. to the fame : 
 Concerning the great variety of characters 
 among mankind. 'The jingular character 
 ofStilotes, 177 
 
 Letter XXXIX. toPniDippus: 
 
 Concerning the criterion of ' tafte, 1 8 1 
 
 Letter XL. to PA L A M E D E s : 
 
 7 'be character of Mezentius, j SQ 
 
 Letter XLI. to O R o N T E s : 
 
 'The comparative merit of the twofexes y con- 
 fdered, 192 
 
 Letter XLII. toPALEMON: 
 
 upon the various revolutions in 
 
 the
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 the mind of man with refpeff both to his 
 fpeculative notions, and his plans of hap- 
 pinefs, Page 198 
 
 Letter XLIII. to EUPHRONIUS: 
 Objections to fome pajfages in Mr. Popes, 
 tranjlation of the Iliad, 20 1 4 
 
 Letter XLIV. to PALAMEDES: 
 
 Againft vifitors by profejjion, 223 
 
 Letter XLV. toHoRTENsius. 
 Reflections upon fame, with rejpeft to the 
 fmall number of thofe ivhofe approbation 
 can be conjidered as conferring it, 225 
 
 Letter XLVI. toCLYTANDER: 
 
 Concerning the reverence due to the religion 
 of ones country, 226, 
 
 Letter XLVII. to C L E o R A : 233 
 Letter XL VIII. to EUPHRONIUS: 
 
 TL he public advantage of well directed fatire. 
 The moral qual.jications requijite to afa- 
 tirijl* 235 
 
 Letter XLIX. to P A L A ME D E s : 
 
 On his approaching marriage, 238 
 
 Letter
 
 CONTENTS. ix 
 
 Letter L. to EUPHRONIU s : 
 
 Upon goodfenfe, Page 240 
 
 Letter LI. to PA LEMON : 
 The author s morning reflexions } 243 
 
 Letter LII. toEuPHRONius: 
 Some pajjages in Mr. Pope's tranflation of 
 the Iliad) compared with the ver/tons of 
 Denham, Dryden, Congreve, and Ticket, 
 
 249 
 
 Letter LIII. toORONTEs: 
 
 Reflections upon feeing Mr. Pope's houfe at 
 Binfieldy 277 
 
 Letter LIV. to PHIDIPPUS: 
 
 *fhe character of Cleantbes, 282 
 
 Letter LV. to EUPHRONIUS: 
 
 Concerning wearznefs of life^ 284 
 
 Letter LVI. to TIMOCLEA: 
 With a fable, in the jlyle of Spenfer, 288 
 
 Letter LVII. to CLYTANDER: 
 Concerning the life of the antient mythology 
 in modern poetry > 296 
 
 Letter
 
 x CONTENTS. 
 
 Letter LVIII. to EUPHRONIUS : 
 Occafioned by thefudden death of a friend, 
 
 Page 304 
 
 Letter LIX. to HORTENSIUS: 
 On the delicacy of every author of genius, 
 'with refpetJ to his own performances, 
 
 37 
 
 Letter LX. to PALEMON: 
 An account of the author's happinefs in his 
 retirement, 312 
 
 Letter LXI. to E u p H R o N i u s : 
 
 Refections uponftyle, 3 14 
 
 Letter LXII. to ORONTES : 
 'The character of 'Tiflioclea, 319 
 
 Letter LXIII. to the fame : 
 
 Concerning the art of verbal criticifm ; a 
 Jpecimen of it applied to an epigram of 
 Swift, 322 
 
 Letter LXIV. to PHILOTES: 
 From Tunbridge, 328 
 
 Letter LX V. to O R o N T E s : 
 
 Concerning delicacy in relieving the dijlreffed, 
 
 33 
 Letter
 
 CONTENTS. xi 
 
 Letter LXVI. to CLEORA: 333 
 
 Letter LXVII. toEupHRONius: 
 On the death and character of the author's 
 father, 336 
 
 Letter LXVIII. to P H i LO T E s : 
 
 Reflexions on the moral character of man- 
 kind, 340 
 
 Letter LXIX. to the fame : 
 
 Concerning the difficulties that attend our fpe- 
 culati've enquiries. Mr. Boyle's modera- 
 tion inftanced and recommended, 343 
 
 Letter LXX. to PALAMEDES: 
 In difgrace, 349 
 
 Letter LXXI. to P H i L o T E s : 
 
 The author s inability to do jujlice to the-cha- 
 r after of Euj'ebes, 353 
 
 Letter LXXII. to the fame : 
 The author s Jituation of mind on the lofs of 
 a friend, 356 
 
 Letter LXXIII. to P A L A M E D E s : 
 On thinking, 359 
 
 Letter
 
 Xll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Letter LXXIV. to ORONTES: 
 
 Reflexions on the ad-vantages of converfation: 
 with a tranjlation of the celebrated Dia- 
 logue concerning the rife and decline of 
 eloquence among the Romans, 365 
 
 LETTERS
 
 [ I ] 
 
 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 O N 
 
 SEVERAL SUBJECTS, 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 To CLYTANDER. 
 
 Sept. 1739. 
 
 I ENTIRELY approve of your defign : 
 but whilft I rejoice in the hope of 
 feeing Enthufiafm thus fuccefsfully 
 attacked in her ftrongeft and moft formi- 
 dable holds, I would claim your mercy for 
 her in another quarter ; and after having 
 expelled her from her religious dominions, 
 let me intreat you to leave her in the un- 
 difturbed enjoyment of her civil pof- 
 feflions. To own the truth, I look upon 
 enthufiafm in all other points, but that of 
 B religion,
 
 2 LETTER L 
 
 religion, to be a very neceflary turn of 
 mind j as indeed it is a vein which nature 
 feems to have marked with more or lefs 
 ftrength in the tempers of moft men. No 
 matter what the object is, whether bufi- 
 nefs, pleafures, or the fine arts j whoever 
 purfues them to any purpofe muft do fo 
 con amore : and inamoratos, you know, of 
 every kind, are all enthufiafts. There is 
 indeed a certain heightening faculty which 
 univerfally prevails thro' our fpecies ; and 
 We are all of us, perhaps, in our feveral 
 favorite purfuits, pretty much in the cir- 
 cumftances of the renowned knight of La 
 Mancha, when he attacked the barber's 
 brazen bafon, for Mambrino's golden hel- 
 met. 
 
 WHAT is Tally's aHquid immenfum 
 infinitumque, which he profefles to afpire 
 after in oratory, but a piece of true rhe- 
 torical Quixotifm ? Yet never, I will 
 venture to affirm, would he have glowed 
 with fo much eloquence, had he been 
 warmed with lefs enthufiafm. I am per- 
 fuaded indeed, that nothing great or glo- 
 rious was ever performed, where this 
 quality had not a principal concern ; and 
 
 as
 
 L E T T E R II. 3 
 
 as our paffions add vigor to our actions, 
 enthufiafm gives fpirit to our paffions. I 
 might add too, that it even opens and 
 enlarges our capacities. Accordingly I 
 have been informed, that one of the great 
 lights of the prefent age never fits down 
 to ftudy, till he has raifed his imagina- 
 tion by the power of mufic. For this 
 purpofe he has a band of inftruments 
 placed near his library, which play till he 
 finds himfelf elevated to a proper height ; 
 upon which he gives a fignal, and they in- 
 flantly ceafe. 
 
 BUT thofe high conceits, which are fug- 
 gefted by enthufiafm, contribute not only 
 to the pleafure and perfection of the 
 fine arts, but to moft other effects of our 
 action and induftry. To ftrike this fpi- 
 rit therefore out of the human conftitu- 
 tion, to reduce things to their precife phi- 
 lofophical ftandard, would b.e to check 
 fome of the main wheels of fociety, and 
 to fix half the world in an ufelefs apathy. 
 For if enthufiafm did not add an imagi- 
 nary value to moft of the objects of our 
 purfuit ; if fancy did not give them their 
 brighteft colours, they would generally, 
 B 2 % perhaps,
 
 4 L E T T E R II. 
 
 perhaps, wear an appearance too contemp- 
 tible to excite delire : 
 Wearfd we Jhould lie down in death, 
 
 This cheat of life would take no more, 
 If you thought fame an empty breath, 
 
 I Phillis but a perjurd whore. PRIOR. 
 
 In a word, this enthufiafm for which I 
 am pleading, is a beneficent enchantrefs, 
 who never exerts her magic but to our ad- 
 vantagCj and only deals about her friendly 
 fpells in order to raife imaginary beauties^ 
 or to improve real ones* The worft that 
 that can be faid of her is, that fhe is a kind 
 deceiver, and an obliging flatterer. Let me 
 conjure you then, good Clytander, not to 
 break up her ufeful enchantments, which 
 thus furround us on every fide j but fpare 
 her harmlefs deceptions in mere charity to 
 mankind. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 70 P H I L O T E S. 
 
 IS H o u L D not have fuffered fo long an 
 interval to interrupt our correfpon- 
 dence, if my expedition to Euphronius 
 
 had
 
 L E T T E R II. 5 
 
 had not wholly employed me for thefe 
 laft fix weeks. I had long promifed to 
 fpend fome time with him before he em- 
 barked with his regiment for Flanders; 
 and as he is not one of thofe Hudibraftic 
 heroes, who choofe to run away one day, 
 that they may live to fight another ; I was 
 unwilling to trufl the opportunity of fee- 
 ing him, to the very precarious contingency 
 of his return. The high enjoyments he 
 leaves behind him, might indeed be a 
 pledge to his friends that his caution would 
 at leaft be equal to his courage, if his 
 notions of honor were lefs exquifitely de- 
 Jicate. But he will undoubtedly act as 
 if he had nothing to hazard j though at 
 the fame time, from the generous fenfibi- 
 lity of his temper, he feels every thing 
 that his family can fuffer in their fears for 
 his danger. I had an inftance whilft I 
 was in his houfe, how much Euphronia's 
 apprehenfions for his fafety are ready to 
 take alarm upon every occafion. She call- 
 ed me one day into the gallery to look 
 upon a picture which was juft come out 
 of the painter's hands ; but the moment 
 {he carried me up to it, fhe burft out into 
 B 3
 
 6 LETTER II. 
 
 a flood of tears. It was drawn at the re- 
 queft, and after a defign of her father's, 
 and is a performance which does great ho- 
 nor to the ingenious artift who executed 
 it. Euphronius is reprefented under the 
 character of Hector when he parts from 
 Andromache, who is perfonated in the 
 piece by Euphronia ; as her fifter, who 
 holds their little boy in her arms, is fha- 
 dowed out under the figure of the beauti^ 
 ful nurfe with the young Aftyanax. 
 
 I WAS fo much pleafed with the defign 
 in this uncommon family-piece, that I 
 thought it deferved particular mention - 
 as I could wifh it were to become a gene- 
 ral famion to have all pictures of the 
 fame kind executed in fome fuch manner. 
 If inftead of furnifhing a room with fepa- 
 rate portraits, a whole family were to be 
 thus introduced into a fingle piece, and 
 reprefented under fome interefting hifto- 
 rical fubject, fuitable to their rank and cha- 
 racter j portraits, which are now fo gene-r 
 rally and fo defervedly defpifed, might be- 
 come of real value to the public. By this 
 means hiftory-painting would be encou- 
 raged among us, and a ridiculous vanity 
 
 turned
 
 L E T T E R II. 7 
 
 turned to the improvement of one of the 
 moft inftruclive, as well as the moll pleaf- 
 ing, of the imitative arts. Thofe who ne- 
 ver contributed a fingle benefit to their 
 own age, nor will ever be mentioned in 
 any after-one, might by this means em- 
 ploy their pride and their expence in a way 
 which might render them entertaining 
 and ufeful both to the prefent and future 
 times, It would require, indeed, great 
 judgment and addrefs in the painter, to 
 choofe and recommend fubjects proper to 
 the various characters which would pre- 
 fent themfelves to his pencil; and un- 
 doubtedly we mould fee many enormous 
 abfurdities committed, if this famion 
 were univerfally to be followed. It would 
 certainly, however, afford a glorious fcope 
 to genius; and probably fupply us, in 
 due time, with fome productions which 
 might be mentioned with thofe of the 
 moft celebrated fchools. J am perfuaded 
 at leaft, that great talents have been fome-? 
 times loft to this art, by being confined to 
 the dull, tho' profitable, labour of fenfe- 
 Jefs portraits ; as I mould not doubt, (if the 
 method J am fpeaking of were to take ef- 
 B 4 feel.
 
 8 L E T T E R II. 
 
 feel:, to fee that very promifing genius, 
 who, in confequence of your generous of- 
 fices, is now forming his hand by the no- 
 bleft models in Rome, prove a rival to 
 thofe great maflers whofe works he is ftu- 
 dying. 
 
 IT cannot, I think, be denied, that the 
 prevailing fondnefs of having our perfons 
 copied out for pofterity, is, in the prefent 
 application of it, a moft abfurd and ufelefs 
 vanity ; as, in general, nothing affords a 
 more ridiculous fcene, than thofe grotefquc 
 figures, which ufually line the manfions of 
 a man who is fond of difplaying his canvas 
 anceftry i 
 
 Good Ileaijn! thatfots and knaves Jhould be 
 
 fo vainy 
 
 70 ivijh their vile refemblance may remain ; 
 Andjland recorded, at their own requeft, 
 "To future times a libel or ajeft. DRYDEN. 
 
 You muft by no means, however, ima- 
 gine that I abfolutely condemn this lower 
 application of one of the nobleft arts. It 
 has certainly a very jufl ufe, when em- 
 ployed in perpetuating the refemblances of 
 that part of our fpecies, who have diftin- 
 
 guimed
 
 L E T T E R II. 9 
 
 guiiiied themfelves in their refpective ge- 
 nerations. To be defirous of an acquaint- 
 ance with the perfons of thofe who have 
 recommended themfelves by their writ- 
 ings or their actions to our efteem and ap- 
 plaufe, is a very natural and reafonable 
 curiolity. For myfelf, at leaft, I have of- 
 ten found much fatisfaction in contem- 
 plating a well-chofen collection of the 
 portrait kind, and comparing the mind of 
 a favorite character, as it was either ex- 
 prefled or concealed in its external linea- 
 ments. There is fomething likewife ex- 
 tremely animating in thefe lively repreT- 
 fentations of celebrated merit. And it was 
 an obfervation of one of the Scipio's, that 
 he could never view the figures of his an^ 
 ceftors without finding his bofom glow 
 with the moft ardent paffion of imitating 
 their deeds. However, as the days of 
 exemplary virtue are now no more, and 
 we are not, many of us, difpofed to tranf- 
 mit the moft inflaming models to future 
 times; it would be but prudence, me- 
 thinks, if we are refolved to make pofte- 
 nty acquainted with the perfons of the 
 
 prefenf
 
 10 LETTER III. 
 
 prcfent age, that it mould be by viewing 
 them in the actions of the paft. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 To PA^AMEDES. 
 
 July 4, 1739. 
 
 T^TOTWITHSTANDING the fine 
 JL^i things you alledge in favor of the 
 Romans, I do not yet find myfelf difpofed 
 to become a convert to your opinion : on 
 the contrary, J am (till obflinate enough 
 to maintain, that the fame of your admired 
 nation is more dazzling than folid, and 
 owing rather to thofe falfe prejudices 
 which we are early taught to conceive of 
 them, than to their real and intrinfic me^ 
 rit. If conqueft indeed be the genuine 
 glory of a ftate, and extenfive dominions 
 the moft infallible teft of national virtue ; 
 it muft be acknowledged that no people 
 in all hiftory, have io juft a demand of our 
 admiration. But if we take an impartial 
 view of this celebrated nation, perhaps 
 much of our applaufe may abate, When 
 
 we
 
 LETTER III. ii 
 
 we contemplate them, for inftance, within 
 their own walls, what do we fee but the 
 dangerous convulfions of an ill-regulated 
 policy ? as we can feldom, I believe, con-* 
 fider them with refpect to foreign king- 
 doms, without the utmoft abhorrence and 
 indignation. 
 
 BUT there is nothing which places thefe 
 Ions of Romulus lower in my eftimation, 
 than their unmanly conduct in the article 
 of their triumphs, I mufl confefs, at the 
 fame time, that they had the fanclion of a 
 god to juftify them in this practice. 
 Bacchus, or (as Sir Ifaac Newton has 
 proved) the Egyptian Sefoftris, after his 
 return from his Indian conquefts, gave the 
 firft inftance of this ungenerous ceremony. 
 But tho' his divinity was confefled in many 
 other parts of the world 5 his example 
 does not feem to have been followed till 
 we find it copied out in all its infolent pomp 
 at Rome. 
 
 IT is impoffible to read the defcrip- 
 tions of thefe arrogant exhibitions of pro- 
 fperity, and not be {truck with indigna- 
 tion at this barbarous method of infult- 
 jpg the calamities of the unfortunate. 
 
 One
 
 12 LETTER III. 
 
 One would be apt, at the firft glance, to 
 fufpeft that every fentiment of humanity 
 muft be extinguifhed in a people, who 
 could behold .with pleafure the moving 
 inftances, which thefe folemnities afford- 
 ed, of the caprice of fortune; and could 
 fee the higheft potentates of the earth 
 dragged from their thrones, to fill up the 
 proud parade of thefe ungenerous tri^ 
 umphs. But the prevailing maxim which 
 ran thro* the whole fyftem of Roman po- 
 litics was, to encourage a fpirit of con- 
 queft ; and thefe honors were evidently 
 calculated to awaken that unjuft princi- 
 ple of miftaken patriotifm. Accordingly, 
 by the fundamental laws of Rome, no 
 general was entitled to a triumph, unlefs 
 he had added fome new acquisition to 
 her pofleflions. To fupprefs a civil infur- 
 rection, however dangerous j to recover 
 any former member of her dominions, 
 however important ; give no claim to this 
 fupreme mark of ambitious diftinclion. 
 For it was their notion, it feems, (and Va- 
 lerius Maximus is my authority for fay- 
 ing fo) that there is as much difference 
 between adding to the territories of ^ 
 
 common^
 
 LETTER III. 13 
 
 commonwealth, and reftoring thofe it 
 has loft, as between the a&ual conferring 
 of a benefit, and the mere repelling of 
 an injury k It was but of a piece, indeed, 
 that a ceremony conducted in defiance of 
 humanity, mould be founded in con- 
 tempt of juftice ; and it was natural enough 
 that they mould gain by oppreffion, what 
 they were to enjoy by infult. 
 
 IF we confider Paulus jEmilius after his 
 his conqueft of Macedonia, making his 
 public entry into Rome, attended by 
 the unfortunate Perfeus and his infant fa- 
 mily ; and at the fame time reflect upon 
 our Black Prince when he pafled thro* 
 London with his royal captive, after the 
 glorious battle of Poictiers ; we cannot 
 fail of having the proper fentiments of a 
 Roman triumph. What generous mind, 
 who faw the Roman conful in all the gid- 
 dy exaltation of unfeeling pride, but 
 would rather (as to that Jingle circum- 
 ftance) have been the degraded Perfeus, 
 than the triumphant /Emilius ? There is 
 fomething indeed in diftrefs that reflects 
 a fort of merit upon every object which 
 is fo foliated, and turns off our attention 
 
 from
 
 H LETTER III. 
 
 from thofe blemifhes that ftain even the 
 moft vitious characters. Accordingly, in 
 the inflance of which I am fpeaking, the 
 perfidious monarch was overlooked in the 
 fuffering Perfeus ; and a fpectacle fo af- 
 fecting checked the joy of conqueft even 
 in a Roman breaft. For Plutarch afTures 
 us, when that worthlefs, but unhappy, 
 prince, was obferved, together with his 
 two fons and a daughter, marching a- 
 midft the train of prifoners ; nature was 
 too hard for cuftom, and many of the 
 , Spectators melted into a flood of tears* 
 But with what a generous tendernefs did 
 the Britifh hero conduct himfelf upon an 
 occailon of the fame kind ? He employ- 
 ed all the artful addrefs of the moft re- 
 fined humanity, to conceal from his un- 
 happy prisoner every thing that could re- 
 mind him of his difgrace j and the whole 
 pomp that was difplayed upon this occa- 
 iion, appeared fmgly as intended to lighten 
 the weight of his misfortunes, and to do 
 honor to the vanquished monarch. 
 
 You will remember, Palamedes, I am 
 only confidering the Romans in a political 
 view, and fpeaking of them merely in 
 
 their
 
 L E T T E R III. 15 
 
 their national character. As to individuals, 
 you knowj I pay the higheft veneration to 
 many that rofe up amongft them. It 
 would not indeed be juft to involve parti- 
 culars, in general reflections of any kind : 
 and I cannot but acknowledge ere I clofe 
 my letter, that tho', in the article I have 
 been mentioning, the Romans certainly 
 acted a moft unworthy part towards their 
 public enemies, yet they feem to have 
 maintained the moft exalted notions of 
 conduct with refpect to their private ones. 
 That noble (and may I not add, that Chri- 
 flian) fentiment of Juvenal, 
 
 mlnutl 
 
 Semper et infirmi eft animi exiguique vo/uptas, 
 Vltio> 
 
 was not merely the refined precept of their 
 more improved philofophers, but a gene- 
 ral and popular maxim among them : and 
 that generous fentiment fo much and fo 
 defervedly admired in the Roman orator ; 
 Non pcenitet me mortales initnicitias^ fempi- 
 ternas amicitias babere y was, as appears 
 from Livy, fo univerfally received, as to 
 become even a proverbial expreffion. Thus 
 Saluft likewife, I remember, fpeaking of 
 
 the
 
 ijS LETTER IV. 
 
 the virtues of the antient Romans, mention's 
 it as their principal charatSeriftic, that upon 
 all occafions they mewed a difpofition ra- 
 ther to forgive than revenge an injury. But 
 the falfe notions they had embraced con* 
 cerning the glory of their country, taught 
 them to fubdue every affection of huma* 
 nity, and extinguim every dictate of juftice 
 which oppofed that deftructive principle* 
 It was this fpirit, however, in return, and 
 by a very juft confequence, that proved at 
 length the means of their total destruction. 
 Farewell. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 'To P H I L T E S. 
 
 July 4, 1743. 
 
 WHILST you are probably enjoy- 
 ing blue ikies and cooling grots ; 
 I am fhivering here in the midft of fum- 
 mer. The molles fub arbore fomni y the 
 fpelunc.ce vivique lacus, are pleafures which 
 we in England can feldom tafte but in. 
 defcription. For in a climate, where the
 
 L E T T E R IV, i; 
 
 warmeft feafon is frequently little better 
 than a milder fort of winter, the fun is 
 much too welcome a gueft to be avoided* 
 If ever we have occafion to complain of 
 him, it muft be for his abfence : at leaft 
 I have feldom found his vifits trouble- 
 fome. You fee I am ftill the fame cold 
 mortal as when you left me. But what- 
 ever warmth I may want in my conftitu- 
 tion, I want none in my affections $ and 
 you have not a friend who is more ardently 
 yours than I pretend to be. You have in- 
 deed fuch a right to my heart from mere 
 gratitude, that I almoft wifh I owed you 
 lefs upon that account, that I might give it 
 you upon a more difinterefted principle. 
 However, if there is any part of it which 
 you cannot demand in juftice, be allured 
 you have it by affection $ fo that, on one 
 or other of thefe titles, you may always 
 depend upon me as wholly yours. Can 
 it be neceflary after this^ to add, that I re- 
 ceived your letter with fingular fatisfaction^ 
 as it brought me an account of your wel- 
 fare, and of the agreeable manner in which 
 you pafs your time ? If there be any room 
 to wim you an increafe of pleafure, it is, 
 G perhaps,
 
 id LETTER IV. 
 
 perhaps, that the three virgins you men- 
 tion, were a few degrees handfomer and 
 younger. But I would not defire their 
 charms fliould be heightened, were I not 
 fure they will never leflen your repofe ; for 
 knowing your Stoicifm, as I do, I dare truft 
 your eafe with any thing lefs than a god- 
 defs : and thofe femaleSj I perceive, are 
 fo far removed from the order of divinities, 
 that they feem to require a confidcrable ad- 
 vance, before I could even allow them to 
 be fo much as women. 
 
 IT was mentioned to me the other day, 
 that there is fome probability we may fee 
 you in England by the winter. When I 
 confidered only my private fatisfaclion, I 
 heard this with a very feniible pleafure* 
 But as I have long learned to fubmit my 
 own interests to yours, I could not but re- 
 gret there was a likelihood of your being fo 
 foon called off from one of the moft ad- 
 vantageous opportunities of improvement 
 that can attend a fenfible mind. An inge- 
 nious Italian author of your acquaintance, 
 compares a judicious traveller to a river 
 that increafes its ftream the farther it flows 
 from its fource 5 or to certain fprings, which
 
 L E T T E R IV. 19 
 
 running thro' rich veins of mineral, im- 
 prove their qualities as they pafs along. 
 It were pity then you fhould be checked in 
 fo ufeful a progrefs, and diverted from a 
 courfe, from whence you may derive fo 
 many noble advantages. You have hither- 
 to, I imagine, been able to do little more 
 than lay in materials for your main defign. 
 But fix months now, would give you a truer 
 notion of what is worthy of observation in 
 the countries thro* which you pafs, than 
 twice that time when you were lefs ac- 
 quainted with the languages. The truth 
 is, till a man is capable of converting with 
 eafe among the natives of any country, he 
 can never be able to form a juft and ade- 
 quate idea of their policy and manners. 
 He who fits at a play, without underftand- 
 ing the dialed:, may indeed difcover which 
 of the actors are beft drefTed, and how well 
 the fcenes are painted or difpofed ; but the 
 characters and conduct of the drama muft 
 for ever remain a fecret to him. Adieu. 
 
 C 2 L E T-
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 To CLYTANDER. 
 
 IF I had been a party in the converfation 
 you mention, I fhould have joined, I 
 believe, with your friend in fupporting thofe 
 fentiments you feem to condemn. I will 
 venture indeed to acknowledge, that I have 
 long been of opinion, the moderns pay too 
 blind a deference to the antients -, and tho' 
 I have the higheft veneration for feveral of 
 their remains, yet I am inclined to think 
 they have occafioned us the lofs of fome 
 excellent originals. They are the proper 
 and beft guides, I allow, to thofe who have 
 not the force to flrike out new paths. But 
 whilft it is thought fufficient praife to be 
 their followers, genius is checked in her 
 flights* and many a fair tract lies undif- 
 covered in the^ boundlefs regions of imagi- 
 nation. Thus, had Virgil trufted more 
 to his native ftrength, the Romans, per- 
 haps, might have feen an original Epic in 
 their language. But Homer was confider- 
 ed by that admired poet as the facred ob-
 
 L E T T E R V. 21 
 
 jedt of his firfl and principal attention ; and 
 he feemed to think it the nobleft triumph 
 of genius, to be adorned with the fpoils 
 of that glorious chief. 
 
 You will tell me, perhaps, that even 
 Homer himfelf was indebted to the an- 
 tients ; that the full ftreams he difpenfed, 
 did not flow from his own fource, but were 
 derived to him from an higher. This, I 
 acknowledge, has been aflerted: but af- 
 ferted without proof, and, I may venture 
 to add, without probability. He feems to 
 have flood alone and unfupported; and to 
 have flood, for that very reafon, fo much 
 the nobler object of admiration. Scarce 
 indeed, I imagine, would his works have 
 received that high regard which was paid 
 to them from their earlieft appearance, had 
 they been formed upon prior models, had 
 they (hone only with reflected light. 
 
 BUT will not this fervile humor of fub- 
 jecting the powers of invention to the guid- 
 ance of the antients, account, in fome de- 
 gree at leaft, for our meeting with fo 
 fmall a number of authors who can claim 
 the merit of being originals ? Is not this a 
 kind of fubmilTion, that damps the fire and 
 C 3 weakens
 
 22 L E T T E R V. 
 
 weakens the vigor of the mind ? For the 
 antients feem to be confidered by us as fo 
 many guards to prevent the free excurfions 
 of imagination, and fet bounds to her flight. 
 Whereas they ought rather to be looked 
 upon (the few, I mean, who arethemfelves 
 originals) as encouragements to a full and 
 uncontrouled exertion of her faculties. But 
 if here or there a poet has courage enough 
 to truft to his own unaffifted reach of 
 thought, his example does not feem fo much 
 to incite others to make the fame adventu- 
 rous attempts, as to confirm them in the 
 humble difpofition of imitation. For if he 
 fucceeds, he immediately becomes himfelf 
 the occafion of a thoufand models : if he 
 does not, he is pointed out as a difcouraging 
 inftance of the folly of renouncing thofe 
 eftabliihed leaders which antiquity has au- 
 thorized. Thus invention is deprefTed and 
 genius enflaved : the creative power of 
 poetry is loft, and the ingenious, inftead of 
 exerting that productive faculty which alone 
 can render them the full objects of admira- 
 tion, .are humbly contented with borrowing 
 both the materials and the plans of their 
 mimic flruclures. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 T0 O R O N T E S. 
 
 March 10, 1729. 
 
 THERE is nothing perhaps, where- 
 in mankind are more frequently 
 miftaken, than in the judgments which 
 they pafs on each other. The ftronger 
 lines, indeed, in every man's character, 
 muft always be marked too clearly and di- 
 ftinctry to deceive even the moft carelefs 
 obferver; and no one, I am perfuaded, 
 was ever efteemed in the general opinion 
 of the world as highly deficient in his mor 
 ral or intellectual qualities, who did not 
 juftly merit his reputation. But I fpealc 
 only of thofe more nice and delicate traits 
 which diftingui/h the feveral degrees of 
 probity and good-fenfe, and afcertain the 
 quantum (if I may fo exprefs it) of human 
 merit. The powers of the foul are fo of- 
 ten concealed by modefty, diffidence, tir 
 midity, and a thoufand other accidental 
 affections ; and the nice complexion of her 
 moral operations depends fo entirely on* 
 thofe internal principles from whence they 
 C 4 proceed ;
 
 ?4 L E T T E R VI. 
 
 proceed j that thofe who form their no* 
 tions of others by cafual and diftant views, 
 muft unavoidably be led into very errone- 
 ous judgments. Even Orontes, with all 
 his candor and penetration, is not, I per- 
 ceive, entirely fecure from miftakes of this 
 fort ; and the femiments you exprefTed in 
 your lafl letter concerning Varus, are by no 
 means agreeable tp the truth of his cha- 
 racter. 
 
 IT piuft be acknowledge^ at the fame 
 time, that Varus is an exception to all ge- 
 neral rules: qeither his head nor his heart 
 are exactly to be difcovered by thofe in- 
 dexes, which are ufually fuppofed'to point 
 directly to the genius and teniper of other 
 men. Thus with a memory that will 
 fcarce ferve him for the common purpoies 
 pf life, with an imagination even more flow 
 than his memory, and with an attention 
 that could not carry him thro' the eafiefl 
 propofition in Euclid ; he has a found and 
 excellent underftanding, joined to a refined 
 and exquifite tafte. But the rectitude of 
 his fentiments feems to arife lefs from re- 
 flection than fenfation ; rather from certain 
 fuitable feelings which the objects that pre- 
 
 fent
 
 L E T T E R VI. 25 
 
 fent themfelves to his confideration inftant^ 
 ly occafion in his mind, than from the 
 energy of any adive faculties which he is 
 capable of exerting for that purpofe. His 
 converfation is unentertaining : for though 
 he talks a great deal, all that he utters is 
 delivered with labor and hefitation. Not 
 that his ideas are really dark and confufed; 
 but becaufe he is never contented to con- 
 vey them in the firft words that occur. 
 Like the orator mentioned by Tully, me- 
 tuem ne vitiofum colligeret, etiam verum fan- 
 gulnem deperdebat, he expreffes himfelf ill 
 by ajways endeavouring to exprefs himfelf 
 better. His reading cannot fo properly be 
 iaid to have rendered him knowing, a.5 not 
 ignorant : it has rather enlarged, than filled 
 his mind. 
 
 His temper is as fingular as his genius,'; 
 and both equally miftaken by thqfe who 
 only know him a little. If you were to 
 judge of him by his general appearance > 
 you would believe him incapable of all the 
 mpre delicate fenfations: neverthelefs, unr 
 4er a rough and boifterous behavior, he 
 conceals a heart full of tendernefs and hu- 
 manity. He has a fenfibility of nature, in- 
 deed,
 
 S>6 LETTER VII, 
 
 deed, beyond what I ever obferved in any 
 other man ; and I have often feen him af- 
 fected by thofe little circumftances, which 
 would make no imprefiion on a mind of 
 lefs exquifite feelings. This extreme fenfi- 
 bility in his temper influences his fpecula- 
 tions as well as his actions, and he hovers 
 between various hypothefes without fettling 
 upon any, by giving importance to thofe 
 minuter difficulties which would not be 
 ftrong enough to fufpend a more active and 
 vigorous mind. In a word, Varus is in 
 the number of thofe whom it is impoffible 
 not to admire, of not to defpife j and at the 
 fame time that he is the efteem of all his 
 friends, he is the contempt of all his ac- 
 quaintance. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER VJJ. 
 
 70 Hoi^TENSIUS. 
 
 YOUR excellent brawn wanted no, 
 additional recommendation to make it 
 more acceptable, but that of your compa- 
 ny. However, tho' I cannot fliare it with 
 
 my
 
 LETTER VII. 27 
 
 my friend, I devote it to his memory, and 
 make daily offerings of it to a certain divi- 
 nity, whofe temples, tho' now well-nigh 
 deferred, were once held in the higheft ve- 
 neration : me is mentioned by antient au- 
 thors under the name and title of DIVA 
 AMICITIA. To her I bring the victim 
 you have furnimed me with, in all the 
 pomp of Roman rites. Wreathed with the 
 facred vitta, and crowned with a branch 
 of rofemary, I place it on an altar of well 
 polifhed mahogony, where I pour libations 
 over it of acid wine, and fprinkle it with 
 flour of muftard. I deal out certain por- 
 tions to thofe who affift at this focial cere- 
 mony, reminding them, with an Hoc age, 
 of the important bufinefs upon which they 
 are aflembled ; and conclude the feftival 
 with this votive couplet : 
 
 Clofe as this brawn the circling fillet binds ; 
 May friendfoip's facred bands unite our minds* 
 
 Farewel. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 28 ] 
 
 LETTER VIII, 
 
 70 C L Y T A N D E R. 
 
 July 2, 1736, 
 
 YOU muft have been greatly diftreffed 
 indeed, Clytander, when you thought 
 of calling me in as your auxiliary, in the 
 debate you mention. Or was it not rather 
 a motive of generofity which fuggefted that 
 defign ? and you were willing, perhaps, 
 I mould mare the glory of a victory which 
 you had already fecured. Whatever your 
 intention was, mine is always to comply 
 with your requefts j and I very readily enter 
 the lifts, when I am at once to combat in 
 the caufe of truth, and on the fide of my 
 friend. 
 
 IT is not neceflary, I think, in order to 
 eftablim the credibility of a particular Pro- 
 vidence, to deduce it (as your objector, I 
 find, feems to require) from known and 
 undifputed facts. I mould be exceedingly 
 cautious in pointing out any fuppofed in- 
 ftances of that kind ; as thofe who are 
 fond of indulging themfelves in determiner 
 ing the precife cafes wherein they ima- 
 gine
 
 LETTER VIII. 29 
 
 gin'e the immediate interpofition of the Di- 
 vinity is difcoverable, often run into the 
 weakeft and moft injurious fuperftitions. 
 It is impoffible indeed, unlefs we were ca- 
 pable of looking through the whole chain 
 of things, and of viewing each effect in its 
 remote connections and final ifTues, to pro- 
 nounce of any contingency, that it is abfo- 
 lutely and in its ultimate tendencies either 
 good or bad. "That can only be known by 
 the great Author of nature, who compre- 
 hends the full extent of our total exiftence, 
 and fees the influence which every particu- 
 lar circumftance will have in the general 
 fum of our happinefs. But though the 
 peculiar points of divine interpofition are 
 thus neceffarily, and from the natural im- 
 perfection of our difcerning faculties, ex- 
 tremely dubious ; yet it can by no means 
 from thence be juftly inferred, that the 
 doctrine of a particular Providence is either 
 groundlefs or abfurd : the general princi- 
 ple may be true, though the application of 
 it to any given purpofe be involved in very 
 inextricable difficulties. 
 
 THE notion that the material world is 
 governed by general mechanical laws, has 
 
 induced
 
 3 o LETTER Vllt 
 
 induced your friend to argue, that " it is 
 * c probable the Deity {hould ad: by the 
 <c fame rule of conduct in the intelle&ual 5 
 cc and leave moral agents entirely to thofe 
 <f confequences which neceffarily refult 
 " from the particular exercife of their ori- 
 <c ginal powers." But this hypothefis takes 
 a queftion for granted, which requires 
 much proof before it can be admitted. 
 The grand principle which preferves this 
 fyftem of the univerfe in all its harmoni- 
 ous order, is gravity, or that property by 
 which all the particles of matter mutually 
 tend to each other. Now this is a power, 
 it is acknowledged, which does not effen- 
 tially relide in matter, but muft be ulti- 
 mately derived from the action of fome im- 
 material caufe. Why therefore may it not 
 reafonably be fuppofed to be the effect 
 of the divine agency, immediately and 
 conftantly operating for the prefervation of 
 this wonderful machine of nature? Certain, 
 at lead, it is, that the explication which 
 Sir Ifaac Newton has endeavoured to give 
 of this amazing phenomenon, by means of 
 his fubtile ether, has not afforded univer- 
 fal fads faction: and it is the opinion of a 
 
 very
 
 LETTER VIII. 3I 
 
 Very great writer, who feems to have gone 
 far into enquiries of this abftrufe kind, that 
 the numberlefs effects of this power are in- 
 explicable upon mechanical principles, or 
 in any other way than by having recourfe 
 to a fpiritual agent, who connects, moves, 
 and difpofes all things according to fuch 
 methods as beft comport with his incom- 
 prehenfible purpofes. 
 
 BUT fuccefsful villainy and opprefied 
 Virtue are deemed, I perceive, in the ac- 
 count of your friend, as powerful instances 
 to prove, that the Supreme Being remains 
 an uninterpofing fpectator of what is tranf- 
 acted upon this theatre of the world. 
 However, ere this argument can have a 
 determining weight, it muft be proved 
 (which yet, furetyj never can be proved) 
 that profperous iniquity has all thofe ad- 
 vantages in reality, which it may feem to 
 have in appearance'; and that thofe acci- 
 dents which are ufually efteemed as cala- 
 mities, do in truth, and in thejuft fcale 
 of things, deferve to be diftinguifhed by 
 that appellation. It is a noble faying of the 
 philofopher cited by Seneca, that " there 
 " cannot be a more unhappy man in the 
 
 " world,
 
 32 LETTER Vltt. 
 
 t{ world, than he who has never experl- 
 " enced adverfity." There is nothing, per- 
 haps, in which mankind are more apt to 
 make falfe calculations .than in the article 
 both of their own happinefs and that of 
 others ; as there are few, I believe, who 
 have lived any time in the world, but have 
 found frequent occafions to fay with the 
 poor hunted ftag in the fable, who was 
 entangled by thofe horns he had but juft 
 before been admiring j 
 O me infelicem ! qui nunc demum intelligo, 
 TJt ilia mibi profuerint qucz defpexeram, 
 Ef qua laudaram quantum luffius habuerint ! 
 
 PHJED. 
 
 If we look back upon the fentiments of 
 paft ages, we mall find, the opinion for 
 which I am contending has prevailed from 
 the remoteft account of time. It muft 
 undoubtedly have entered the world as 
 early as religion herfelf ; fince all inftituti- 
 ons of that kind muft necefiarily be found- 
 ed upon the fuppofition of a particular 
 Providence. It appears indeed to have 
 been the favorite dodrine of fome of the 
 moft diftinguifhed names in antiquity. Xe-^ 
 nophon tells us, when Cyrus led out his 
 
 army
 
 L fc T T E R VIIt> 33 
 
 army againft the AfTyrians, the word which 
 he gave to his foldiers was, ZETS 2TM* 
 
 MAXOS KAI HFEMnN, <c Jupiter Our 
 
 c< auxiliary and conductor :" and he re- 
 prefents that prince as attributing fuccefs* 
 even in the fports of the field, to divine 
 providence. Thus, likewifcj Timolean (as 
 the author of his life affures us) believed 
 every a&ion of mankind to be under the 
 immediate influence of the gods ; and 
 Livy remarks of the firft Scipio Afri- 
 canus, that he never undertook any im- 
 portant affair, either of private or pub- 
 lic concern, without going to the Capitol 
 in order to implore the affiftance of Jupi- 
 ter. Balbus the Stoic, in the dialogue 
 on the nature of the gods, exprelly de*- 
 clares for a particular providence : and Ci- 
 cero himfelf, in one of his orations, im- 
 putes that fuperior glory which attended 
 the Roman nation, fingly to this animat- 
 ing perfuafion. But none of the antient? 
 feem to have had a flronger impreflion of 
 this truth upon their minds, than the im- 
 mortal Homer. Every page in the works 
 of that divine poet will furnifh proofs of 
 this obfervation. I cannot however for- 
 D bear
 
 34 LETTER VIII. 
 
 bear mentioning one or two remarkable 
 inftances, which juft now occur to me. 
 When the Grecian chiefs caft lots which 
 of them mould accept the challenge of 
 Hector, the poet defcribes the army as 
 lifting up their eyes and hands to heaven, 
 and imploring the gods that they would 
 direct the lot to fall on one of their moft 
 diftinguifhed heroes : 
 
 e Tit 
 Zev Ttefltp, u Aiavjet Aa^s/p, Tu/so? vtoy, 
 
 So likewife Antenor propofes to the Tro- 
 jans the reftitution of Helen, as having 
 no hopes, he tells them, that any thing 
 would fucceed with them after they had 
 broken the faith of treaties : 
 
 VVY ofKia. <xiTa. 
 
 "YfJfftt[J.iVOI ^A^OfJt.^a.' TCa K VV Tl MfflOV tlpl? 
 
 a TJ)e people pray with lifted eyes and hands, 
 
 And vows like thefe ajcendfrom all the bands : 
 
 Grant, thou dlmighty, in whafe hand is fate, 
 
 A worthy champion for the Grecian Jiatt : 
 
 This tajk let Ajax or Tydides prove, 
 
 Or he, the king of kings, iclev'd of Jove. POPE. 
 
 ** The ties of faith, the fworn alliance broke, 
 
 Our impious battles the juft gods prcvske. POPE. 
 
 And
 
 LETTER VIII. 35 
 
 And indeed Homer hardly ever makes his 
 heroes fucceed (as his excellent tranflator 
 juftly obferves) unlcfs they have firft of- 
 fered a prayer to heaven. " He is per- 
 " petually, fays Mr. Pope, acknowledging 
 " the hand of God in all events, and af- 
 t( cribing to that alone all the victories, tri- 
 <c umphs, rewards, or punifhments of men. 
 " The grand moral laid down at the en- 
 <c trance of his poem, A/O? <r' TA/TO ^KAH* 
 " The will of God was fulfilled, runs through 
 " his whole work, and is, with a mod re- 
 <c markable care and conduct, put into the 
 " mouths of his greateft and wifeft peffons 
 " on every occafion." 
 
 UPON the Whole, Clytander, we may 
 fafely afTert, that the belief of a particu- 
 lar providence is founded upon fuch pro- 
 bable reafons as may well juftify our affenh 
 It would fcarce therefore be wife to re- 
 nounce an opinion, which affords fo firm 
 a fupport to the foul in thofe feafons 
 wherein (he ftands moft in need of affift- 
 ance, merely bec'aufe it is not poflible, in 
 queftions of this kind, to folve every 
 difficulty which attends them. If it be 
 highly confonant to our general notions 
 
 D 2 Of
 
 36 LETTER VIII. 
 
 of the benevolence of the Deity (as high- 
 ly confonant it furely is) that he mould not 
 leave fo impotent a creature as man, to- 
 the fingle guidance of his own preca- 
 rious faculties ; who would abandon a be- 
 lief fo full of the moft enlivening confola- 
 tion, in compliance with thofe metaphy- 
 fical reafonings which are ufually calculat- 
 ed rather to filence, than to fatisfy, an 
 humble inquirer after truth ? Who indeed 
 would wim to be convinced, that he ftands 
 unguarded by that heavenly fhield, which 
 can protect him againft all the aflaults of 
 an injurious and malevolent world ? The 
 truth is, the belief of a particular provi- 
 dence is the moft animating perfuafion that 
 the mind of man can embrace : it gives 
 ftrength to our hopes, and firmnefs to our 
 refolutionsj it fubdues the infolence of pro- 
 fperity, and draws out the fling of afflicti- 
 on. In a word, it is like the golden branch 
 to which Virgil's hero was directed, and 
 affords the only fecure paflport through the 
 regions of darknefs and ibrrow. I am, &c.
 
 [ 37 ] 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 70 T I M O C L E A. 
 
 July 29, 1748. 
 
 IT is with wonderful fatisfaftion I find 
 you are grown fuch an adept in the 
 occult arts, and that you take a laudable 
 pleafure in the antient and ingenious fludy 
 of making and folving Riddles. It is a fci^ 
 ence, undoubtedly, of moft neceffary ac- 
 quirement, and deferves to make a part in 
 the education of both fexes. Thofe of 
 yours may by this means very innocently 
 indulge their ufual curiolity of difcovering 
 and diiclofing a fecret; whilft fuch amongft 
 ours who have a turn fcr deep fpeculations, 
 and are fond of puzzling themfelves and 
 others, may exercife their faculties this way 
 with much private fatisfaction, and with- 
 out the leaft difturbance to the public. It 
 is an art indeed, which I would recom- 
 mend to the encouragement of both the 
 univerfities, as it affords the ealieft and 
 morteft method of conveying fome of the 
 moft ufeful principles of logic, and might 
 therefore be introduced as a very proper 
 D 3 fcb- 
 
 117049
 
 38 L E T T E R IX. 
 
 fubftitute in the room of thofe dry fyftcms, 
 which are at prefent in vogue in thofe 
 places of education. For, as it confifts in 
 difcovering truth under borrowed appear- 
 . ances, it might prove of wonderful advan^ 
 tage in every branch of learning, by habi- 
 tuating the mind to feparate all foreign 
 ideas, and confequently preferving it from 
 that grand fource of error, the being de- 
 ceived by falfe connections. In fhort, Ti- 
 moclea, this your favorite fcience contains 
 the Aim of all human policy ; and as there 
 is no pamng thro' the world without fome- 
 times mixing with fools and knaves ; who 
 would not choofe to be mafter of the enig- 
 matical art, in order, on proper occafions, 
 to be able to lead alide craft and imperti- 
 nence from their aim, by the convenient 
 artifice of a prudent difguife : It was the 
 maxim of a very wife prince, that " he 
 ff who knows not how to diffemble, knows 
 "not how to reign :" and I defire you 
 would receive it as mine, that he who 
 " knows not how to riddle, knows not how 
 t* to live.' ? 
 
 BUT befides the general ufefulnefs of 
 fhis art, it will have a farther recommen- 
 dation
 
 LETTER IX. 39 
 
 elation to all true admirers of antiquity, as 
 being pra&ifed by the moft coniiderable 
 perfonages of early times. It is almoft 
 three thoufand years ago fince Samfon 
 propofed his famous riddle j though the ad- 
 vocates for ancient learning muft for- 
 give me, if in this article I attribute the 
 fuperiority to the moderns : for if we 
 may judge of the ikill of the former in 
 this profound art by that remarkable fpe- 
 cimen of it, the geniufes of thofe early ages 
 were by no means equal to thofe which our 
 times have produced. But as a friend of 
 mine has lately finimed, and intends very 
 fhortly to publim, a moft learned work in 
 folio, wherein he has fully proved that im^ 
 portant point, I will not anticipate the 
 pleafure you will receive by perufing his 
 curious performance. In the mean while 
 let it be remembred to the immortal glory 
 of this art, that the wifeft man, as well as 
 the greateft prince that ever lived, is faid 
 to have amuied himfelf and a neighboring 
 monarch in trying the ftrength of each 
 other's talents in this way ; feveral riddles, 
 it feems, having pafTed between Solomon 
 and Hiram, upon condition that he who 
 D 4 failed
 
 40 LETTER IX. 
 
 failed in the folution mould incur a certain 
 penalty. It is recorded lifeewife of the 
 great father of poetry, even the divine HOT 
 mer himfelf, that he had.a tafte of this fort j 
 and we are told by a Greek writer of his 
 life, that he died with vexation for notber 
 ing able to difcover a riddle, which was 
 propofed to him by fome filhermen at a 
 certain ifland called lo. 
 
 I AM inclined to think, indeed, that the 
 antients in general were fuch admirers of 
 this art, as to infcribe riddles upon their 
 tomb-ftones, and that not fatisfied with 
 puzzling the world in their life-time, they 
 bequeathed enigmatical legacies to the pub- 
 lic after their deceafe. My conjecture is 
 founded upon an ancient infcription, which 
 I will venture to quote to you, though it 
 is in Latin, as your friend and neighbor 
 the antiquarian will, I am per&aded, be 
 very glad of obliging you with a differta- 
 tion upon it. Be pleafed then to afk him 3 
 whether he docs not think that the follow- 
 ing infcription favors my fentiments : 
 
 VIATORES. OPTIMI. 
 
 $IS. NVGIS. GRYPHJS. AMB AGIBVSQJE. 
 CONDONARE. POSCIMUS.
 
 L E T T E R IX. 41 
 
 However this may be, it is certain that it 
 was one of the great entertainments of the 
 paftoral life, and therefore, if for no other 
 reafon, highly deferving the attention of 
 our modern Arcadians. You remember, 
 J dare fay, the riddle which the mepherd 
 Dametas propofes to Maenalcas in Dryden's 
 Virgil : 
 
 Say inhere the round of heav'n, 'which all- 
 
 contains, 
 
 three foort elh on earth ourjlght reft rains: 
 I'ell That, and rife a Phcebusfor thy pains. J j 
 
 This asnigma, which has exercifed the 
 guefTes of many a learned critic, remains 
 yet unexplained : which I mention, not 
 only as an inftance of the wonderful pene^ 
 tration which is necefTary to render a man 
 a complete adept in this moft noble fcience, 
 but as an incitement to you to employ your 
 fkill in attempting thefolution. And now, 
 Timoclea, what will your grave friend fay, 
 who reproached you, it feems, for your- 
 riddling genius, when he (hall find you are 
 thus able to defend your favorite ftudy by 
 the fublime examples of kings, commenta-? 
 and poets ? I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 42 ] 
 
 LETTER X. 
 To PHIDIPPUS. 
 
 HARDLY, I imagine, were you in 
 earned, when you required my 
 thoughts upon friendfhip: for, to give you 
 the trueft idea of that generous intercourfe, 
 may I not juftly refer you back to the fen- 
 timents of your own heart ? I am fure, at 
 leaft, I have learned to improve my own 
 notions of that refined affection, by thofe 
 inftances which I have obferved in yourfelf j 
 as it is from thence I have received the 
 cleareft conviction, that it derives all its 
 ftrength and ftability from virtue and good- 
 fenfe. 
 
 THERE is not, perhaps, a quality more 
 uncommon in the world, than that which 
 is neceflary to form a man for this refined 
 commerce: for however fociablenefs may 
 he efleemed a juft characterise of our fpe- 
 cies; friendlinefsj I am perfuaded, will 
 fcarce be found to enter into its general de- 
 finition. The qualifications requifite to 
 fupport and conduct friendfhip in all its 
 ftrength and extent, do not feem to be fuf- 
 ficiently difFufed among the human race, 
 
 to
 
 LETTER X. 43, 
 
 to render them the diflinguifhing marks of 
 mankind ; unlefs generofity and good-fenfe 
 mould be allowed (what they never can be 
 allowed) univerfally to prevail. On the 
 contrary, how few are in pofleffion of thofe 
 moft amiable of endowments ? how few 
 are capable of that noble elevation of mind, 
 which raifes a man above thofe little jea- 
 loufies and rivalmips that moot up in the 
 paths of common amities ? 
 
 WE mould not, indeed, fo often hear 
 complaints of the inconftancy and falfenefs 
 of friends, if the world in general were 
 more cautious than they ufually are, in 
 forming connections of this kind. But the 
 misfortune is, our friendfliips are apt to be 
 too forward, and thus either fall off in the 
 bloflbm, or never arrive at juft maturity. It 
 is an excellent piece of advice therefore, 
 that the poet Martial gives upon this pcca- 
 fion: 
 
 'Tu tantum infpice qui novus paratur> 
 An poffit fieri vetusfodatis. 
 
 WERE I to make trial of any perfon's 
 qualifications for an union of fo much deli- 
 cacy, there is no part of his conduct I 
 
 wou!4
 
 44 L E T T E R X. 
 
 would fooner fingle out, than to obferve 
 him in his refentments. And this, not 
 upon the maxim frequently advanced, 
 f that the beft friends make the bittereft 
 <{ enemies;" but, on the contrary, becaufe 
 I am perfuaded, that he who is capable of 
 being a bitter enemy, can never poffefs the 
 neceflary virtues that conftitute a true 
 friend. For muft he not want generofity 
 (that mofl eflential principle of an amicable 
 combination ) who can be fo mean as to 
 indulge a fpirit of fettled revenge, and 
 coolly triumph in the oppreffion of an ad^ 
 verfary ? Accordingly, there is no circum- 
 ilance in the character of the excellent 
 Agricola, that gives me a higher notion of 
 the true heroifm of his mind, than what 
 the hiftorian of his life mentions concern- 
 ing his conduct in this particular inftance, 
 Ex Iracundia (fays Tacitus) nibilfttpererati 
 fecretum et filentmm ejus non timer es. His 
 elevated fpirit was too great to fuffer his re- 
 fentment to furvive the occafion of it ; and 
 thpfe who provoked his .indignation had 
 nothing to apprehend from the fecret and 
 filent workings of unextinguiflied malice, 
 put the practice, it muft be owned (per- 
 haps
 
 LETTER III. 4$ 
 
 haps I might have faid, the principle too) 
 of the world runs ftrongly on the fide of 
 the contrary difpofition ; and thus, in op- 
 pofition to that generous fentiment of your 
 admired orator, which I have fo often heard 
 you quote with applaufe, our friendfhips 
 are mortal, whilft it is our enmities only 
 that never die. 
 
 BUT though judgment muft colled: the 
 materials of this goodly ftructure, it is af- 
 fection that gives the cernent; and paffion, 
 as well as reafon, mould concur in forming 
 a firm and lafting coalition. Hence, per- 
 haps, it is, that not only the moft powerful 
 but the moft lafting friendihips, are ufually 
 the produce of the early feafon of our lives, 
 when we are moft fufceptible of the warm 
 and affectionate impreffions. The con- 
 nections, into which we enter in any after- 
 period, decreafe in ftrength as our paffions 
 abate in heat ; and there is not, I believe, 
 a fingle inftance of a vigorous friendship 
 that ever ftruck root in a bofom chilled by 
 years. How irretrievable then is 1 the lois 
 of thofe beft and faireft acquifitions of our 
 youth ? Seneca, taking notice of Auguftus* 
 Csfar's Limenting, upon a certain occaiion,. 
 
 the
 
 46 L E T T E R X. 
 
 the death of Maecenas and Agrippa, ob* 
 ferves, that he, who could inftantly repair 
 the deftruction of whole fleets and armies, 
 and bid Rome, after a general conflagra- 
 tion, rife out of her afhes even with more 
 luftre than before -, was yet unable, dur- 
 ing a whole life, to fill up thofe lading va- 
 cancies in his friendmip: A reflection, 
 which reminds me of renewing my felici- 
 tations, that you would be more cautious 
 in hazarding a life which I have fo many 
 reafons to love and honor. For whenever 
 an accident of the fame kind fhall feparate 
 (and what other accident can feparate) the 
 happy union which has fo long fubfifted 
 between us ; where fhall I retrieve fo fe- 
 vere a lofs ? I am utterly indifpofed to en- 
 ter into new habitudes, and extend the little 
 circle of my friendmips : happy if I may but 
 preferve it firm and unbroken to the clofing, 
 moment of my life ! Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 47 ] 
 LETTER XL 
 
 To HORTENSIITS. 
 
 Auguft 12, 1742. 
 
 TF any thing could tempt me to read the 
 * Latin poem you mention, it would be 
 your recommendation. But {hall I venture 
 to own, that I have no tafte for modern 
 compofitions of that kind? There is one 
 objection which always remains with me 
 againfl them, and which I have never yet 
 found caufe to renounce : no true genius, 
 I am perfuaded, would fubmit to write any 
 confiderable poem in a dead language. A 
 poet, who glows with the genuine fire of 
 a warm and lively imagination, will find 
 the copioufnefs of his own native Engiifli 
 fcarce fuffkient to convey his ideas in all 
 their flrength and energy. The moft com- 
 prehenfive language finks under the weight 
 of great conceptions ; and a pregnant ima- 
 gination difdains to ftint the natural growth 
 of her thoughts, to the confined ftandard of 
 claffical exprefllon. An ordinary genius, 
 indeed, may be humbly contented to pur- 
 fue words thro' indexes and dictionaries, 
 
 and
 
 4 3 L E T T E R XL 
 
 and tamely borrow phrafes from Horace 
 and Virgil j but could the elevated inven- 
 tion of Milton, or the brilliant fenfe of 
 Pope, have inglorioufly fubmitted to lower 
 the force and majefty of the moft exalted 
 and nervous fentiments, to the fcanty mea- 
 fure of the Roman dialect? For copioufnefs 
 is by no means in the number of thofe ad- 
 vantages which attend the Latin language ; 
 as many of the antients have both confeffed 
 and lamented. Thus Lucretius and Seneca 
 complain of its deficiency with refpecl: to 
 fuSjecls of philofophy ; as Pliny the youn- 
 ger owns he found it incapable of furniming 
 him with proper terms, in compofitions of 
 wit and humor. But if the Romans them- 
 felves found their language thus penurious, 
 in its entire and moft ample fupplies j how 
 much more contracted mud it be to us* 
 who are only in pofleflion of its broken and 
 fcattered remains ? 
 
 To fay truth, I have obferved in moft 
 of the modern Latin poems which I have 
 accidentally run over, a remarkable bar- 
 rennefs of fentiment, and have generally 
 found the poet degraded into the parodifL 
 It is ufually the little dealers on ParnafTus, 
 
 who
 
 L E T T E R XI. 49 
 
 who have not a fufficient ftock of genius to 
 launch out into a more enlarged commerce 
 with the Mufes, that hawk about thefe 
 claffical gleanings. The ftyle of thefe per- 
 formances always puts me in mind of Har- 
 lequin's fnuff, which he collected by bor- 
 rowing a pinch out of every man's box he 
 could meet, and then retailed it to his cu- 
 ftomers under the pompous title of tabac de 
 milk fours. Half a line from Virgil or Lu- 
 cretius, pieced out with a bit from Horace 
 or Juvenal, is generally the motley mixture 
 which enters into compolitions of this fort. 
 One may apply to thefe jack-daw poets 
 with their ftolcn feathers, what Martial 
 fays to a contemporary plagiarift : 
 
 Stat contra dicitqne tibi tua pagina. Fur es. 
 
 THIS kind of theft, indeed, every man 
 muft neceflarily commit, who fets up for 
 a poet in a dead language. For to exprefs 
 himfelf with propriety, he muft not only 
 be fure that every jingle word which he ufes, 
 is authorifed by the beft writers ; but he 
 muft not even venture to throw them out 
 of that particular combination in which he 
 finds them connected : otherwife ; he may 
 fall into the moft barbarous folecifms. To 
 E explain
 
 5 o LETTER XL 
 
 explain my meaning by an inftance from 
 modern language j the French words arene 
 and rive, are both to be met with in their 
 approved authors ; and yet if a foreigner, 
 unacquainted with the niceties of that lan- 
 guage, mould take the liberty of bringing 
 thofe two words together, as in the follow- 
 ing verfe, 
 
 Sur la rive du fleuve amaffant de I' arene -, 
 he would be expofed to the ridicule, not 
 only of the critics, but of the moft ordinary 
 mechanic in Paris. For the idiom of the 
 French tongue will not admit of the expref- 
 fionfur la rive du Jteuve, but requires the 
 phrafey^r le bord de la riviere; as they never 
 fay amaffer de I'arene, but du fable. The 
 fame obfervation may be extended to all 
 languages, whether living or dead. But as 
 no reafonings from analogy can be of the 
 leaft force in determining the idiomatic pro- 
 prieties of aoy language whatfoever j a mo- 
 dern Latin poet has no other method of be- 
 ing fure to avoid abfurdities of this kind, 
 than to take whole phrafes as he finds them 
 formed to his hands. Thus inftead of ac- 
 commodating his expreffion to his fenti- 
 ment (if any he mould have) he muft ne- 
 cefTarily bend his fentiment to his expref- 
 fion,
 
 L E T T E R XI. 51 
 
 fion, as he is not at liberty to (hike out into 
 that boldnefs of ftyle, and thofe unexpected 
 combinations of words, which give fuch 
 grace and energy to the thoughts of every 
 true genius. True genius, indeed, is as 
 much difcovered by ftyle as by any other 
 distinction; and every eminent writer, with- 
 out indulging any unwarranted licences, has 
 a language which he derives from himfelf, 
 and which is peculiarly and literally his own. 
 I WOULD recommend therefore to thefe 
 empty echoes of the antients, which owe 
 their voice to the ruins of Rome, the advice 
 of an old philofopher to an affected orator 
 of his times : Vive morlbus prteteritis, faid 
 he, loquere verbis prafentibus. Let thefe 
 poets form their conduct, if they pleafe, by 
 the manners of the antients j but if they 
 would prove their genius, it muft be by the 
 language of the moderns. I would not how- 
 ever have you imagine, that I exclude all 
 merit from a qualification of this kind. To 
 be {killed in the mechanifm of Latin verfe, 
 is a talent, I confefs, extremely worthy of a 
 pedagogue ; as it is an exercife of fingular 
 advantage to his pupils. I am, Sec. 
 
 E 2 LETTER
 
 LETTER XIL 
 
 Tfl A M A S I A. 
 
 July 8, 1744. 
 
 IF good manners will not juftify my long 
 filence, policy at leaft will : for you 
 muft confefs there is fome prudence in not 
 owning a debt one is incapable of paying. 
 1 have the mortification indeed to find my- 
 felf engaged in a commerce, which I have 
 not a fufficient fund to fupport ; tho' I muft 
 add at the fame time, if you expect an equal 
 return of entertainment for that which your 
 letters afford, I know not where you will 
 find a correfpondent. You will fcarcely, at 
 leaft, look for him in the defart, or hope for 
 any thing very lively from a man who is 
 obliged to feek his companions among the 
 dead. You who dwell in a land flowing 
 with mirth and good humor, meet with 
 many a gallant occurrence worthy of re- 
 cord : but what can a village produce, which 
 is more famous for repofe than for action, 
 and is fo much behind the manners of the 
 prefent age, as fcarce to have got out of the 
 iimplicity of the firft ? The utmofl of our 
 
 humor
 
 LETTER XII. 53 
 
 humor rifes no higher than punch; and all 
 that we know of AfTemblies, is once a year 
 round our May-pole. Thus unqualified, as 
 I am, to contribute to your amufement, I 
 am as much at a lofs to fupply my own ; 
 and am obliged to have recoufe to a thou- 
 fand ftratagerns to help me off with thofe 
 lingering hours, which run fo fwiftly, it 
 feems, by you. As one cannot always, you 
 know, be playing at pufti-pin, I fometimes 
 employ myfelf with a lefs philofophical di- 
 verfion; and either purfue butterflies, or 
 hunt rhymes, as the weather and the feafon 
 permit. This morning not proving very 
 favorable to my fports of the field, I con- 
 tented myfelf with thpfe under covert; and 
 as I am not at prefent fupplied with any 
 thing better for your entertainment, will 
 you fuffer me to fet bejforc you fome of my 
 game ? 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 ERE Saturn's fons were yet difgxac'd, 
 And heathen gods were all the tafte, 
 Full oft (we read) 'twas Jove's high will 
 To take the air on Ida's hill. 
 It chanc'd, as once with ferious ken 
 He view'd from thence the ways of men, 
 E 3 tfe
 
 54 L-E T.T E.R XIJ. 
 
 He faw (and pity touch'd his breaft) 
 The world by three foul fiends pofleft. 
 Pale Difcord there, and Folly vain, 
 With haggard Vice> upheld their reign. 
 Then forth he fent his fummons high, 
 And call'd a fenate of the fky. 
 Round as the winged orders preft, 
 Jove thus his facred mind expreft : 
 *i Say, which of ail this fhining train 
 fc Will Virtue** conflict hard fuitain ; 
 " For fee! fhe drooping takes her flight, 
 ?- c While not a god fupports her right." 
 He paus'd -when from amidft the |ky, 
 Wit i Imiqcencc, and Hqrmony, 
 With one united zeal aroie, 
 The triple tyrants to oppofe. 
 That inftant from the realms of day, 
 With gen'rous fpeed, they took their way : 
 To Britain's ifle diredt their car, 
 x^Vnd enter'd with the ev'ning flar. 
 
 BESIDE the road a manfion flood, 
 Defended by a circling wood. 
 Hither, difguis'd, their fteps they bend, 
 In hoes, perchance, to find a friend. 
 Nor vain their hope ; for records fay 
 Worth ne*er from thence was turn'd away. 
 They urge the traveler's common chance, 
 And evYv piteous plea advance. 
 
 The
 
 LETTER XII. 55 
 
 The artful tale that Wit had feign'd, 
 Admittance eafy foon obtain'd. 
 
 THE dame who own'd, adorn'd the place: 
 Three blooming daughters added grace. 
 The firtt, with gentleft manners blett, 
 And temper fweet, each heart poflettj 
 Who view'd her catch'd the tender flame: 
 And foft Amafia was her name. 
 In fprightly fenfe, and polim'd air, 
 What maid with Mira might compare ? 
 While Lucia's eyes, and Lucia's lyre, 
 Did un refitted love infpire. 
 
 IMAGINE now the table clear, 
 And mirth in ev'ry face appear : 
 The fong, the tale, the jeft went round, 
 The riddle dark, the trick profound. 
 Thus each admiring and admir'd, 
 The hofts and guefts at length retir'd ; 
 When Wit thus fpake her fitter-train : 
 <c Faith, friends, our errand is but vain 
 " Quick let us meafure back thefky; "J 
 " Theie nymphs aione may well fupply L 
 <c Wit) Innocence, and Harmony. \ 
 
 You fee to what expedient folitude has 
 
 reduced me, when I am thus forced to 
 
 ftring rhymes, as boys do birds eggs, in or- 
 
 E 4 der
 
 5 6 LETTER XII. 
 
 der to while away uiy idle hours. But a 
 gayer fcene is, I truft, approaching, and 
 the day will fhortly, I hope, arrive, when 
 I (hall only complain that it fteals away too 
 faft. It is not from any improvement in the 
 objects which furround me that 1 6 expect 
 this wondrous change; nor yet that a longer 
 familiarity will render them more agreable. 
 It is from a promife I received, that Ama- 
 iia will vifit the Hermit in his cell, and dif- 
 perfe the gloom of a folitaire by the chear- 
 fulnefs of her converfation. What induce- 
 ments mall I mention to prevail with you 
 to haften that day ? mall I tell you, that I 
 have a bower over-arched with woodbine ? 
 that I have an oak which is the favorite 
 haunt of a dryad ? that I have a plantation, 
 which flourifhes with all the verdure. o 
 May, in the midft of all the cold of De- 
 cember ? Or, may I not hope that I have 
 iomething ftill more prevailing with you 
 than alt thefe, as I can with truth affure 
 you, that I have a heart which is faithfully 
 yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER
 
 I 57 ] 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 70 PHILOTES. 
 
 AMONG all the advantages which at- 
 tend friendfhip, there is not one more 
 valuable than the liberty it admits in laying 
 open the various affections of one's mind, 
 without referve or difguife. There is fome- 
 thing in difclofing to a friend the occafional 
 emotions of one's heart, that wonderfully 
 contributes to foptji and allay its perturbati- 
 ons, in all its moft penfive or anxious mo- 
 ments. Nature, indeed, feems to have caji 
 us with a general difpofition to communi- 
 cation : though at the fame time it muft be 
 acknowledged, there are few to whom one 
 may be fafely communicative. Have I not 
 reafon, then, to efteem it as one of the moft 
 defirab.le circumftances of my life, that I 
 (lare, without fcruple, or danger, think aloud 
 to Philotes ? It is merely to exercife that 
 happy privilege, I now take up my pen ; and 
 you muft expect nothing in this letter bui 
 the picture of my heart in one of its fplenetic 
 hours. There are certain feafons, perhaps, 
 in every man's life, when be is diffatisrjed 
 
 with
 
 58 LETTER XIIL 
 
 with himfelf and every thing around him, 
 without being able to give a fubdantial rea- 
 fon for being fo : at lead I am unwilling 
 to think, that this dark cloud, which at pre- 
 fcut -hangs over my mind, is peculiar to my 
 conditution, and never gathers in any bread 
 but my own. It is much more, however, 
 my concern to difiipate this vapor in myfelf, 
 than to difcover that it Ibmetimes arifes in 
 others : as there is no difpofition a man. 
 would rather endeavor to cherifli, than a 
 condant aptitude of being pleafed. But my 
 practice will not always credit my philofo- 
 phy ; and I find it much eafier to point out 
 my didernper than to remove it. After all, 
 is it not a mortifying consideration, that the 
 powers of reafon fhould be lefs prevalent 
 than thole of matter ; and that a page of Se- 
 neca cannot raife the fpirits, when a pint of 
 claret will? It might, methinks, fomewhat 
 abate the infolence of human pride to con- 
 ficicr, that it is but increafing or diminih- 
 ing'the velocity of certain fluids in the ani- 
 mal machine, to elate the foul with the gay- 
 eft hopes, or fink her into the deeped de- 
 Jpairj to deprefs the hero into a coward, 
 or advance the co\vard into a hero. It is to
 
 LETTER XIV. 59 
 
 ibme fuch mechanical caufe I am inclined 
 to attribute the prefent gloominefs of my 
 mind; at the fame time, I will confefs, there 
 is fomething in that very confederation which 
 gives ftrength to the fit, and renders it fo 
 much the more difficult to throw off. For, 
 tell me, is it not a difcouraging reflection to 
 find one's felf fertile (as Shakefpeare ex- 
 p relies it) to every Jkyey influence ', and the 
 fport of every paltry atom ? to owe the cafe 
 of one's mind not only to the difpofitioa of 
 one's own body, but almoft to that of every 
 other which liirrounds us ? Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 To O R O N T E S. 
 
 fnPHE paffage you quote is entirely in 
 -a- my fentiments. I agree both with that 
 celebrated author and yourfelf, that our Ora- 
 tory is by no means in a ftate of perfection: 
 and, tho' it has much ftrength and folidity, 
 that it may yet be rendered far more po- 
 limed and affecting. The growth, indeed, 
 of eloquence, even in thofe countries where 
 (hs fjorilhecj. moft, has ever been exceed- 
 ingly
 
 60 LETTER XIV. 
 
 ingly flow. Athens had been in poHeffion 
 of all the other polite improvements, long 
 before her pretenfions to the perfuafive arts 
 were in any degree confiderable 5 as the 
 earlieft orator of note among the Romans 
 did not appear fooner than about a century 
 before Tally. 
 
 THAT great matter of perfuafion, tak- 
 ing notice of this remarkable circumftance, 
 affigns it as an evidence of the fuperior diffi- 
 culty of his favorite art. Poffibly there may 
 be fomc truth in the obfervation : but what- 
 ever the caufe be, the fact, I believe, is un- 
 deniable. Accordingly eloquence has by 
 no means made equal advances in our own 
 country, with her fifter arts ; and tho' we 
 have feen fome excellent poets, and a few 
 good painters rife up amongft us, yet I know 
 not whether our nation can fupply us with a 
 iingle- orator of deferved eminence. One 
 cannot but be furprifed at this, when it is 
 considered, that we have a profefllon fet 
 apart for the purpofes of perfuafion ; and 
 which not only affords the moft animating 
 and interesting topics of rhetoric, but where- 
 in a talent of this kind would prove the 
 likelieft, perhaps, of any other to obtain 
 thofe ambitious prizes which were thought 
 
 ta
 
 LETTER XIV. 61 
 
 to contribute fo much to the fuccefsful pro- 
 grefs of antient eloquence. 
 
 AMONG the principal defects of our 
 fenglifh orators, their general difregard of 
 harmony has, I think, been the leaft ob- 
 ferved. It would be injuftice indeed to deny 
 that we have fome performances of this kind 
 amongft us, tolerably mufical : but it muft 
 be acknowledged at the fame time, that it 
 is more the effect of accident than defign, 
 and rather a proof of the power of our 
 language, than of the art of our orators. 
 
 DR. Tillotfon, who is frequently men- 
 tioned as having carried this fpecies of elo- 
 quence to its higheft perfection, feems to 
 have had no fort of notion of rhetorical 
 numbers : and may I venture, Orontes, to 
 add, without hazarding the imputation of 
 an affected (angularity, that I think no man 
 had ever lefs pretenfions to genuine oratory, 
 than this celebrated preacher. If any thing 
 could raife a flame of eloquence in the 
 breaft of an orator, there is no occafion, up- 
 on which one fhould imagine it would be 
 more likely to break out, than in celebrat- 
 ing departed merit : yet the two fermons 
 which he preached upon the death of Dr. 
 
 Gooch
 
 62 LETTER XIV. 
 
 Gooch and Dr. Whitchot are as cold and 
 languid performances as were ever, per- 
 haps, produced upon fuch an animating 
 fubject. One cannot indeed but regret,, that 
 he, who abounds with fuch noble and ge- 
 nerous fentiments, mould want the art of 
 fetting them off with all the advantage they 
 deferve j that the fublime in morals fbould 
 not be attended with a fuitable elevation 
 of language. The truth however is, his 
 words are frequently ill chofen, and almoft 
 always ill placed j his periods are both 
 tedious and unharmonious ; as his meta- 
 phors are generally mean, and often ridi- 
 culous. It were eafy to produce num- 
 berlefs inftances in fupport of this afTertion. 
 Thus in his fermon preached before Queen 
 Anne, when fhe was Princefs of Den- 
 mark, he talks of fqueezing a parable, 
 thrujlmg religion by, driving a find bar- 
 gain with God, foarking JJriJts, &c. and 
 fpeaking of the day of judgment, he de- 
 icribes the world as cracking about our ears. 
 1 cannot, however, but acknowledge, in 
 jtiftice to the oratorical character of this 
 mod valuable prelate, that there is a noble 
 Simplicity in fome few of his fermons ; 
 
 as
 
 LETTER XIV. 63 
 
 as his excellent difcourfe on fencerity de- 
 ferves to be mentioned with particular ap- 
 plaufe. 
 
 BUT to mew his deficiency in the article 
 I am confidering at prefent, the following 
 ftriclure will be fufficient, among many 
 others that might be cited to the fame pur- 
 pofe. " One might be'apt," fays he, " to 
 " think at firft view, that this parable was 
 " overdone, and wanted fomething of a due 
 cc decorum; it being hardly credible, that 
 " a man, after he had been fo mercifully 
 < and generoufly dealt withal) as upon his 
 " humble requeft to have fo huge a debt fo 
 " freely, forgiven, fhould, whilft the me- 
 " mory of fo much mercy was frem upon 
 " him, even in the very next moment, 
 " handle his fellow- fervant, who had made 
 * f the fame humble requeft to him which 
 " he had done to his lord, with fo much 
 <{ roughnefs and cruelty, for fo inconiider- 
 <l able a fum." 
 
 THIS whole period (not to mention other 
 objections which might juiily be raifed 
 a^ainft it) is unmufical throughout ; but 
 the concluding members, which ought to 
 have been particularly flowing, are mod 
 miferably foofe and dis]ointed. If the de- 
 licacy
 
 64 LETTER XIV. 
 
 licacy of Tally's ear was fo exquifitely re- 
 fined, as not always to be fatisfied even when 
 he red Demofthenes ; how would it have 
 been offended at the harfhnefs and difib- 
 nance of fo unharmonions a fentence ? 
 
 NOTHING, perhaps, throws our elo- 
 quence at a greater diftance from that of 
 the antients, than this Gothic arrangement ; 
 as thofe wonderful effects, which fometimes 
 attended their elocution, were in all proba- 
 bility chiefly owing to their {kill in mufical 
 concords. It was by the charm of numbers, 
 united with the ftrength of reafon, that 
 Tully confounded the audacious Catiline, 
 and filenced the eloquent Hortenfius. It was 
 this that deprived Curio of all power of re- 
 collection, when he rofe up to oppofe that 
 great matter of enchanting rhetoric : it was 
 this, in a word, made even Caefar himfeif 
 tremble *; nay, what is yet more extraordi- 
 nary, made Caefar alter his determined pur- 
 pofe, and acquit the man he had refolved 
 to condemn. 
 
 You will not fufpedt that I attribute too 
 much to the power of numerous competi- 
 tion, when you recollect the inftance which 
 
 * See TuTJy's Letters, vol. ii. p. 365. not. 9. 
 
 Tully
 
 LETTER XIV. 65 
 
 Tully produces of its wonderful effect. Hs 
 informs us, you may remember, in one of 
 his rhetorical treatifes, that he was himfelf 
 a witnefs of its influence as Carbo was once 
 haranguing to the people. When that orator 
 pronounced the following fentence, patris 
 ditfumfapiens, temeritas Jilii comprdbavity 
 it was aftonifhing, fays he, to obferve the 
 general applaufe which followed that har- 
 monious clofe. A modern ear, perhaps* 
 would not be much affected upon this oc- 
 cafion 5 and, indeed, it is more than pro- 
 bable, that we are ignorant of the art of 
 pronouncing that period with its genuine 
 emphafis and cadence. We are certain, 
 however, that the mufie of it confifted in 
 the dicboree with which it is terminated 2 
 for Cicero himfelf affures us, that if the 
 final meafure had been changed, and the 
 words placed in a different order, their 
 whole effect would have been abfolutely 
 deftroyed; 
 
 THIS art was firft introduced among the 
 Greeks by Thrafimachus, tho* fome of the 
 admirers of liberates attributed the inven- 
 tion to that orator. It does not appear to 
 have been obferved by the Romans till near 
 F the
 
 66 LETTER XIV. 
 
 the times of Tully, and even then it was by 
 no means univerfally received. The antient 
 and lefs numerous manner of compofition, 
 had ftill many admirers, who were fuch en- 
 thufiafts to antiquity as to adopt her very 
 defects. A difpofition of the fame kind may, 
 perhaps, prevent its being received with us ; 
 and while the archbimop fhall maintain his 
 authority as an orator, it is not to be expect- 
 ed that any great advancement will be made 
 in this fpecies of eloquence. That ftrength 
 of understanding likewife, and folidity of 
 reafon, which is fo eminently our national 
 characterise, may add fomewhat to the 
 difficulty of reconciling us to a ftudy of this 
 kind 5 as at firft glance it may feem to lead 
 an orator from his grand and principal aim, 
 and tempt him to make a facrifice of fenfe 
 to found. It muft be acknowledged, in- 
 deed, that in the times which fucceeded the 
 difiblution of the Roman republic, this art 
 was fo perverted from its true end as to be- 
 come the fingle ftudy of their enervated ora- 
 tors. Pliny the younger often complains of 
 this contemptible affectation ; and the polite 
 author of that elegant dialogue which, with 
 very little probability, is attributed either to 
 
 Tacitns
 
 L f t E R XIV. 6? 
 
 Tacitus or Quintilian, aflures us it was the 
 ridiculous boaft of certain orators in the time 
 of the declenfion of genuine eloquence, that 
 their harangues were capable of being fet to 
 mufic, and fung upon the ftage. But it mufb 
 be remembred, that the true end of this 
 art I am recommending, is to aid, not to 
 fuperfede reafon $ that it is fo far from being 
 necefTarily effeminate, that it not only 
 adds grace but ftrength to the powers of 
 perfuafion. For this purpofe Tully and 
 Quintilian, thofe great mafters of nume- 
 rous competition, have laid it down as a 
 fixed and invariable rule, that it muft never 
 appear the effect of labor in the orator $ that 
 the tuneiul flow of his periods muft always 
 feem the cafual refult of their difpofition $ 
 and that it is the higheft offence againft the 
 art, to weaken the expreffion in order to 
 give a more mufical tone to the cadence. 
 In fhort, that no unmeaning words are to 
 be thrown in merely to fill up the requifite 
 meafure, but that they muft ft ill rife in 
 fenfe as they improve in found. I am, &c 
 
 F 2 LET-
 
 t 68] 
 
 LETTER xv- 
 
 To C L E O R A. 
 
 Auguft II, 1738. 
 
 THO' it is but a few hours fincc I 
 parted from myCleoa; yet I have 
 already, you fee, taken up my pen to write 
 to her. You muft not expect, however, in 
 this, or in any of my future letters, that I fay 
 fine things to you ; fince I only intend to tell 
 you true ones. My heart is too full to be re- 
 gular, and too lincere to be ceremonious. I 
 have changed the manner, not the ftyle of 
 my former converfations : and I write to 
 you, as I ufed to talk to you, without form 
 or art. Tell me then, with the fame un- 
 difTembled fincerity, what effect this ab- 
 fence has upon your ufual chearfulnefs ? as 
 I will honeftly confefs on my own part, 
 that I am too interefted to wifh a circum- 
 ftance fo little confident with my own re- 
 pole, fhould be altogether reconcileable to 
 yours. I have attempted, however, to pur- 
 fue your advice, and divert myfelf by the 
 fubject you recommended to my thoughts : 
 but it is impoffible, I perceive, to turn off 
 
 the
 
 6 9 
 
 the mind at once from. an object; which it 
 has long dwelt upon with pieature. My 
 heart, like a poor bird which is hunted 
 from her neft, is ftill returning to the place 
 of its affections, and after fome vain efforts 
 to fly off, fettles again where all its cares 
 and all its tendernefs are centered. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 To P H I L O T E S. 
 
 Auguft, 20, 1739. 
 
 IF E A R I mall lofe all my credit with 
 you as a gardener, by this fpecimen 
 which I venture to fend you of the produce 
 of my walls. The fnails, indeed, have had 
 more than their mare of my peaches and 
 nectarines this feafon : but will you not 
 fmile when I tell you, that I deem it a fort 
 of cruelty to fuffer them to be deftroyed ? 
 I mould fcarce dare to acknowledge this 
 weaknefs (as the generality of the world, 
 no doubt, would call it) had I not experi- 
 enced, by many agreeable inftances, that I 
 may fafely lay open to you every fentiment 
 of my heart. To. confefs the truth then, 
 F 3 lhave
 
 ?o LETTER XVI. 
 
 J have fome fcruples with refpedt to the li- 
 berty we affume in the unlimited deftruc- 
 tion of thefe lower orders of exiftence. I 
 know not upon what principle of reafon 
 and juftice it is, that mankind have founded 
 the right over the lives of every creature 
 that is placed in a fubordinate rank of being 
 to themfelves. Whatever claim they may 
 have in right of food and felf- defence, did 
 they extend their privilege no farther than 
 thofe articles would reafonably carry them, 
 numberlefs beings might enjoy their lives in 
 peace, who are now deprived of them by 
 the mod wanton and unneceflary cruelties. 
 I cannot, indeed, difcover why it mould be 
 thought lefs inhuman to crufh to death a 
 harmlefs infect, whofe fingle offence is that 
 he eats the fruit which nature has prepared 
 for his iuftenance, than it would be, were I 
 to kill any more bulky creature for the fame 
 reafon. There are few tempers fo hardened 
 to the impreffions of humanity, as not to. 
 fhudder at the thought of the latter j and 
 yet the former is univerfaily pradifed with- 
 out the leaft check of companion. This 
 feems to arife from the grofs error of fup- 
 that every creature is really in itfelf 
 
 con-
 
 LETTER XVI. 71 
 
 contemptible, which happens to be cloath- 
 ed with a body infinitely difproportionate 
 lo our own ; not confidering that great and 
 little are merely relative terms. But the in- 
 imitable Shakefpeare would teach us, that 
 the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
 
 In corf ralfuff" ranee feeh a pang as great 
 
 As 'when a giant dies. 
 
 And this is not thrown out in the latitude of 
 poetical imagination, but fupported by the 
 difcoveriesof themofl improved philofophy : 
 for there is every reafon to believe that the 
 lenfations of many infects are as exquifite as 
 thofe of creatures of far more enlarged di- 
 menfions ; perhaps even more fo. The 
 Millepedes, for inftance, rolls itfelf round, 
 upon the flighted touch ; and the fnail ga- 
 thers in her horns upon the leaft approach 
 of your hand. Are not thefe the ftrongeft 
 indications of their fenfibility ? and is it any 
 evidence of ours, that we are not therefore 
 induced to treat them with a more fympa- 
 thizing tendernefs ? 
 
 I WAS extremely pleafed with a fentiment I 
 
 met with the ether day in honeft Montaigne. 
 
 That good-natured author remarks, that 
 
 there is a certain general claim of kindnefs 
 
 F 4 and
 
 72 LETTER XVI. 
 
 and benevolence which every fpecie^s of 
 creatures has a right to from us. It is to 
 be regretted that this generous maxim is 
 not more attend to, in the affair of edu^- 
 cation, and preffed home upon tender minds 
 in its full extent and latitude. I am far, 
 indeed, from thinking that the early delight 
 which children difcover in tormenting flies, 
 &c. is a mark of any innate cruelty of tem- 
 per j becaufe this turn may be accounted 
 for upon other principles, and it is entertain- 
 ing unworthy notions of the Deity to fup- 
 pofe he forms mankind with a propenfityto 
 the moft deteftable of all difpofitions. But 
 moft certainly, by being unreft rained in 
 fports of this kind, they may acquire by 
 habit, what they never would have learned 
 from nature, and grow up into a confirm- 
 ed inattention to every kind of fuffering 
 but their own. Accordingly the fupreme 
 court of judicature at Athens thought an 
 inftance of this fort not below its cogni- 
 zance, and punifhed a boy for putting out 
 the eyes of a poor bird, that had unhappily 
 fallen into his hands. 
 
 IT might be of fervice therefore, it 
 fhpuld feem, in order to awaken as early
 
 LETTER XVII. 73 
 
 ias poflible in children an extenfive lenfc 
 of humanity, to give them a view of feveral 
 forts of infers, as they may be magnified 
 by the affiftance of glafles, and to fhew 
 them that the lame evident marks of wif- 
 dom and goodnefs prevail in the formation 
 of the minuter! infect, as in that of the moft 
 enormous Leviathan : that they are equally 
 furnifhed with whatever is neceffay, not on- 
 ly to the prefervation, but the happinefs of 
 their beings, in that clafs of exigence to 
 which providence has afligned them : in a 
 word, that the whole construction of their 
 refpective organs diftinclly proclaims them 
 the objects of the divine benevolence, and 
 therefore that they juftly ought to be fo of 
 ours. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XVII, 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 Feb. i, 1738. 
 
 YOU fee how much I truft to your 
 good-nature and your judgment, whilft 
 I am the only perfon, perhaps, among 
 your friends, who have ventured to omit a 
 
 congra-
 
 74 LETTER XVII. 
 
 congratulation in form. I am not, how- 
 ever, intentionally guilty ; for I really de- 
 figned you a vifit before now : but hear- 
 ing that your acquaintance flowed in upon 
 you from all quarters, I thought it would 
 be more agreeable to you as well as to my- 
 felf, if I waited till the inundation was 
 abated. But if I have not joined in the ge- 
 neral voice of congratulation ; I have not, 
 however, omitted the fincereft, tho' filent, 
 wimes, which friendship can fuggefl upon 
 the occafion. Had I not long fince for- 
 faken the regions of poetry, I would tell 
 you in the language of that country, how 
 often I have faid, may 
 
 all heavn, 
 
 And happy conft citations on that hour 
 Shed their feleft eft influence! MILT. 
 
 But plain profe will 'do as well for plain 
 truth : and there is no occafion for any art 
 to perfuade you, that you have, upon every 
 occurrence of your life, my beftgood wimes. 
 I hope fhortly to have an opportunity of 
 making myfelf better known to Afpafia. 
 When I am fo, I mall rejoice with her, 
 on the choice me has made of a man, from 
 
 whom
 
 LETTER XVIII. 75 
 
 whom I will undertake to promifc her all 
 the happinefs, which the ftate me has en- 
 tered into can afford. This much I do not 
 fcruple to fay of her hufband to you : the 
 reft I had rather fay to her. If upon any 
 occafion you mould mention me, let it be 
 in the character which I moft value myfelf 
 upon, that of your much obliged and very 
 affectionate friend. 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 70 HORTENSIUS. 
 
 July 5> '739- 
 
 I CAN by no means fubfcribe to the fenti- 
 ments of your laft letter, nor agree with 
 you in thinking, that the love of Fame 
 is a paffion, which either reafon or religion 
 condemn. I confefs, indeed, there are fome 
 who have reprefented it as inconfifteht 
 with both ; and I remember, in parti- 
 cular, the excellent author of The religion 
 of nature delineated, has treated it as highly 
 irrational and abfurd. As the paffage falls 
 jn fo thoroughly with your own turn of 
 
 thought,
 
 76 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 thought, you will have no objection, I ima- 
 gine, to my quoting it at large; and I give 
 it you, at the fame time, as a very great au- 
 thority on your fide. " In reality (fays 
 ** that writer) the man is not known ever 
 " the more to poflerity, becaufe his name 
 " is tranfmitted to them : He doth not 
 " live becaufe his name does. When it 
 <c is faid, Julius Caefar fubdued Gaul, con- 
 <c quered Pompey, &c. it is the fame thing 
 <c as to fay, the conqueror of Pompey was 
 * c Julius Caefar, i. e. Caefar and the con- 
 " queror of Pompey is the fame thing ; 
 " Casfar is as much known by one de- 
 " fignation as by the other. The amount 
 l( then is only this: that the conqueror of 
 <{ Pompey conquered Pompey ; or rather, 
 " fince Pompey is as little known now as 
 " Cxfar,fomelcJy conquered fomebody. Such 
 * c a poor bufinefs is this boafled immorta- 
 " lity ! and fuch is the thing called Glory 
 " among us ! To difcerning men this fame 
 " is mere air, and what they defpife, if not 
 <c flnm." 
 
 BUT furelv, 'twere to confider too curt- 
 oujlj (as Horatio fays to Hamlet) to confider 
 thus. For tho' fame with poflerity fhould 
 
 be,
 
 LETTER XVIII. 77 
 
 be, in the ftrict analyfis of it, no other 
 than what it is here defcribed, a mere un- 
 interefting propcfition, amounting to nothing 
 more than tb&tjcfhe6<xfy acted meritorioufly; 
 yet it would not necefTarily follow, that 
 true philofophy would banifh the defire f 
 it from the human breaft. For this paffion 
 may be (as moft certainly it is) wifely im- 
 planted in our fpecies, notwithftanding the 
 correfponding object ihould in reality be 
 very different from what it appears in ima- 
 gination. Do not many of our moft re- 
 fined and even contemplative pleafures owe 
 their exiftence to our miftakes ? It is but 
 extending (I will not fay, improving) fome 
 of our fenfes to a higher degree of acute- 
 nefs than we now poflefs them, to make 
 the faireft views of nature, or the nobleft 
 productions of art, appear horrid and de- 
 formed. To fee things as they truly and in 
 themfelves are, would not always, perhaps, 
 be of advantage to us in the intellectual 
 world, any more than in the natural. But, 
 after all, who fhall certainly afTure us, that 
 the pleafure of virtuous fame dies with its 
 pofleflbr, and reaches not to a farther fcene 
 of exiftence ? There is nothing, it mould 
 
 feem,
 
 78 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 feem, either abfurd or unphilofophical in 
 fuppofing it poffible at leaft, that the praifes 
 of the good and the judicious, that fweetefl 
 mufic to an honeft ear in this world, may be 
 echoed back to the manfions of the next : 
 that the poet's defcription of Fame may be 
 literally true, and tho* me walks upon 
 earth, me may yet lift her head into heaven, 
 BUT can it be reafonable to extinguim a 
 paffion which nature has univerfally lighted 
 up in the human breaft, and which we con- 
 flantly find to burn with moft ftrength and 
 brightnefs in the nobleft and beft formed 
 bofoms ? Accordingly, Revelation is fo far 
 from endeavoring (as you fuppofe) to era- 
 dicate the feed which nature has thus deep- 
 ly planted, that me rather feems, on the 
 contrary, to cherifh and forward its growth. 
 To be exalted with honor > and to be had in 
 euerlafting remembrance, are in the number 
 of thofe encouragements which the Jewifh 
 difpenfation offered to the virtuous j as the 
 perfon from whom the facred author of the 
 Chriftian fyftern received his birth, is her- 
 felf reprefented as rejoicing that all genera* 
 tionsfiould call her bleffed. 
 
 To
 
 LETTER XVIII. 79 
 
 To be convinced of the great advantage 
 of cherifhing this high regard to pofterity, 
 this noble defire of an after-life in the breath 
 of others, one need only look back upon 
 the hiftory of the antient Greeks and Ro- 
 mans. What other principle was it, Hor- 
 tenfius, which produced that exalted ftrain 
 of virtue in thofe days, that may well ferve 
 as a model to thefe? Was it not the con- 
 fentiens laus bonorum, the incorrupta 'vox be- 
 ne judtcantium (as Tully calls it) the con- 
 current approbation of the good, the uncor- 
 rupted applaufe of the wife, that animated 
 their moft generous purfuits ? 
 
 To confefs the truth, I have been ever 
 inclined to think it a very dangerous at- 
 tempt, to endeavor to lefTen the motives 
 of right conduft, or to raife any fufpicion 
 concerning their folidity. The tempers and 
 difpofitions of mankind are fo extremely 
 different, that it feems neceffary they mould 
 be called into action by a variety of incite- 
 ments. Thus, while fome are willing to wed 
 Virtue for her perfonal charms, others arc 
 engaged to take her for the fake of her ex- 
 pected dowry : and fince her followers and 
 admirers have fo little to hope from her in 
 
 prefent,
 
 LETTER XIJC. 
 
 prefent, it were pity, methinks, to reafofi 
 them ut of any imagined advantage in re-* 
 verfion. Farewel. 
 
 LETTER XIX, 
 
 TO C L E O R A. 
 
 I THINK, Cleora, you are the trueft fe- 
 male hermit I ever knew ; at leaft I 
 do not remember to have met with any 
 among your fex of the fame order with 
 yourfelf : for as to the Religious on the 
 other fide of the water, I can by no means 
 cfteem them worthy of being ranked in your 
 number. They are a fort of People, who 
 either have feen nothing of the world, OF 
 too much : and where is the merit of giving 
 up what one is not acquainted with, OF 
 what one is weary of? But you are a far 
 more illuftrious reclufe, who ha^e entered 
 into the world with innocency, and retired 
 from it with good humor. That fort of 
 life, which makes fo amiable a figure ia 
 the defcription of poets and philofophersy 
 and which kings and heroes have profefled 
 to afpire after, Cleora actually enjoys : ms 
 
 lives
 
 LETTER XIX. &f 
 
 lives her own, free from the follies and im- 
 pertinences, the hurry and difappointments 
 of falfe purfuits of every kind. How much 
 do I prefer one hour of fuch folitude, to all 
 the glittering, glaring, gaudy days of the 
 ambitious ? I fhall not envy them their gold 
 and their filver, their precious jewels, and 
 their changes of raiment, while you permit 
 me to join you and Alexander in your her- 
 mitage. I hope to do fo on Sunday even* 
 ing, and attend you to the fiege of Tyre* 
 or the deferts of Africa, or wherever elfe 
 your hero (hall lead you. But fhould I find 
 you in more elevated company, and en- 
 gaged with the rapturous * * * * $ even 
 then, I hope, you will not refufe to admit 
 me of your party. If I have not yet a pro- 
 per gout for the myftic writers, perhaps I 
 am not quite incapable of acquiring one ; 
 and as I have every thing of the hermit 
 in my eompofition, except the enthufiafm, 
 it is not impoffible but I may catch that alfo, 
 by the affiftance of you and * * * *. I de- 
 fire you would receive me a$ a probationer 
 at leaft, and as one who is willing, if he 
 is worthy, to be initiated into your fecret 
 do&rine*. I think I only want this tafte 
 G and
 
 $2 L E T T E R XX. 
 
 and a relifh of the marvellous, to be whol- 
 ly in your fentiments. Poffibly I may be 
 fo happy as to attain both in good time : 
 I fancy at leaft there is a clofe connexion 
 between them, and I {hall not defpair of 
 obtaining the one, if I can by any means 
 arrive at the other. But which muft I en- 
 deavor at firfl ? Shall I prepare for the my- 
 ftic by commencing with the romance, or 
 would you advife me to begin with Mai- 
 branch before I undertake Clelia ? Suffer 
 me, however, ere I enter the regions of 
 fiction, to bear teftimony to one conftant 
 truth, by affuring you that I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 To EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 October i o, 1 742. 
 
 1HAVE often mentioned to you the plea- 
 fure I received from Mr. Pope's tranf- 
 lation of the Iliad : but my admiration of 
 that inimitable performance has increafed 
 upon me, fince you tempted me to com- 
 pare the copy with the original. To fay of 
 this noble work, that it is the beft which 
 
 ever
 
 L E T T E R XX. 83 
 
 ever appeared of the kind, would be fpeak- 
 ing in much lower terms than it deferves ; 
 the world perhaps fcarce ever before faw a 
 truly poetical tranflation : for, as Denham 
 
 obferves, 
 
 Such is our pride ', our folly ', or our fate, 
 Thatfew, butthofeivho cannot write, tranjlatt* 
 
 Mr. Pope feems, in moft places, to have 
 been infpired with the fame fublime fpirit 
 that animates his original j as he often takes 
 fire from a tingle hint in his author, and 
 blazes out even with a ftronger and brighter 
 flame of poetry. Thus the character of 
 Therfites, as it {lands in the Englifli Iliad, 
 is heightened, I think, with more maflerly 
 flrokes of fatire than appear in the Greek 5 
 as many of thofe fimilies in Homer, which 
 would appear, perhaps, to a modern eye* 
 too naked and unornamented, are painted 
 by Pope in all the beautiful drapery of the 
 mofl graceful metaphor. With what pro- 
 priety of figure, for inftance, has he railed 
 the following companion : 
 
 Evr opsos xievtytri Noro* y.ctf 
 xAs7r7>; e
 
 E T T E R 
 
 H. iii. 10. 
 
 Thus from hisfaggy wings when Eurus Jkeds 
 A night of vapors round the mountain-head^ 
 Swift-gliding mijls the dusky fields invade ; 
 thieves more grateful than the midnight 
 
 Jhade : 
 While fcarce the fwains their feeding focks 
 
 furvey, 
 
 Lo/l and confusd aniidfl the thickened day : 
 So wrapt ingathering duft the Grecian train , 
 A moving cloud, fwept on and hid the plain. 
 
 WHEN Mars, being wounded by Dio- 
 med, flies back to heaven, Homer compares 
 him iri his paffage to a dark cloud raifed by 
 fummer heats, and driven by the wind. 
 
 O/w * ex veptuv 
 
 II. v. 864, 
 
 The inimitable tranflator improves this 
 image, by throwing in fome circumftances, 
 which, tho* not in the original, are exactly 
 in the fpirit of Homer : 
 As vapors, blown by Aufter's fultry breath, 
 Pregnant with plagues, and Bedding feeds of 
 death,
 
 L E T T E R XX. 8; 
 
 Beneath forage of burning Sinus rife, 
 Cboak the parch' d earth, and blacken all the 
 
 skies ; 
 
 In fuch a cloud the god, from combat driv'n, 
 High o'er theduftywhirlwindfcalestheheavn. 
 THERE is a defcription in the eighth 
 book, which Euftathius, it feems, efleemed 
 the moft beautiful night-piece that could 
 be found in poetry. If I am not greatly 
 miftaken, however, I can produce a finer : 
 and I am perfuaded even the warmeft ad- 
 mirer of Homer will allow, the following 
 lines are inferior to the correfponding ones 
 in the tranflation : 
 
 or sv XfcLVto 
 
 t^nrpfcTrea, ore r' gTiAfcTO \wty% ai9/)/), 
 Ex T' tyctvov izrao-ai crxo-TTiat xa* -arpwcyg? axpw, 
 
 11. viii. 551. 
 
 ? the moon, refulgent lamp of night, 
 O'er heavns clear azure fpreads her facred 
 
 light ; 
 
 When not a breath diflurbs the deep ferenc, 
 And not a cloud o'ercafts thefolemnjcene, 
 
 G 3 Around
 
 86 L E T T E R XX. 
 
 ground her throne the vivid planets roll, 
 And far s unnumberd gild tie glowing pole : 
 O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure Jhed, 
 And tip witfcfiher every mountain's head ; 
 *Tbenjhine the vales, the rocks in profpeft rife, 
 A flood of glory burflsfrom all thejkies ; 
 The confcious fwains , rejoicing in the fight, 
 Eye the blue vault, and blejs the ufeful light. 
 
 I FEAR the enthufiaftic admirers of Ho- 
 mer would look upon me with much in- 
 dignation, were they to hear me fpeak of 
 any thing in modern language as equal to 
 the ftrength and majefty of that great father 
 of poetry. But the following paflage hav- 
 ing been quoted by a celebrated author of 
 antiquity, as an inftance of the true Sublime, 
 I will leave it to you to determine whether 
 the tranflation has not at leaft as juft a claim 
 to that character as the original. 
 
 , evro&e fc 
 
 Tuv ^6 re tnfaat ^87rov iv 8pe 
 
 ytrenzi Ja^o Ti 90^0$ 
 
 As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills, 
 With rage impetuous down their echoing hills, 
 
 Rujh
 
 L E T T E R XX. 87 
 
 Rujh to the vales, and, pour* d along the plain y 
 Roar thro' a thoufand chaneh to the main-, 
 The diftant Jhefoerd trembling hears the found: 
 So mix both hofts, and fo their cries rebound. 
 
 THERE is no antient author more likely 
 to betray an injudicious interpreter into 
 meannefles, than Homer; as it requires the 
 utmoft {kill and addrefs to preferve that ve- 
 nerable air of fimplicity, which is one of 
 the characleriftical marks of that poet, with- 
 out finking the expreffion or the fentiment 
 into contempt. Antiquity will furnifh a 
 very ftrong inftance of the truth of this ob- 
 fervation, in a fingle line which is preferved 
 to us from a translation of the Iliad by one 
 Labeo, a favorite poet, it feems, of Nero : 
 it is quoted by an old fcholiaft uponPerfius, 
 and happens to be a verfion of the follow- 
 ing paflage in the fourth book, 
 
 which Nero's admirable poet rendered lite- 
 
 rally thus : 
 
 Crudum manduces Priamum Priamiqiie pi- 
 
 Jinnos. 
 
 I need not indeed have gone fo far back for 
 my inftance: a Labeo of our own nation 
 
 would
 
 IBS LETTER XX. 
 
 would have fupplied me with one much 
 nearer at hand. Ogilby or Hobbs (I for? 
 get which) has tranflated this very verfe in 
 the fame ridiculous manner: 
 
 And eat up Priam and his children all. 
 
 BUT among many other paflages of this 
 fort I obferved one in the fame book, which 
 raifed my curiofity to examine in what man- 
 ner Mr. Pope had conducted it. Juno, in. 
 a general council of the gods, thus accofts 
 Jupiter : 
 
 , QV 
 
 TOIO rt 
 
 which is as much as if fhe had faid in plain 
 Englifh, " Why furely, Jupiter, you won't 
 <l be fo cruel as to render ineffectual all my 
 ec expence of labor and fweat. Have I not 
 <c tired both my horfes, in order to raife 
 ^ forces tq ruin Priam and his family ?" 
 It requires the moft delicate touches ima- 
 ginable, to raife fuch a fentiment as this into 
 any tolerable degree of dignity. But a 
 artift knows how to embellim the 
 
 moil
 
 L E T T E R XX. 89 
 
 pioft ordinary fubjecl: ; and what would be 
 low and fpiritlefs from a lefs mafterly pen- 
 cil, becomes plealing and graceful when 
 worked up by Mr. Pope's; 
 
 Shall then, O tyrant of th y ethereal plain, 
 Myfchemes, my labors, and my hopes be vain? 
 Have I for thisjhook Hi on with alarms, 
 Affembled nations ^fet two worlds in arms ? 
 Vofpread the war 1 few from Jhore tojhore> 
 *T/6' immortal courfers fcarce the labor bore* 
 
 BUT to mew you that I am not fo en- 
 thufiaftic an admirer of this glorious perfor- 
 mance, as to be blind to its imperfections ; 
 
 1 will venture to point out a paflage or two 
 (amongft others which might be mentioned) 
 wherein Mr. Pope's ufual judgment feems 
 to have failed him. 
 
 WHEN Iris is fent to inform Helen, that 
 faris and Menelaus were going to decide 
 the fate of both nations by fingle combat, 
 and were actually upon the point of engag- 
 ing; Homer defcribes her as haftily throw- 
 ing a veil over her face, and fleeing to the 
 Scaean gate, from whence me might have 
 
 2 full view of the field of battle :
 
 90 L E T T E R XX. 
 
 ex, 
 Owe CM* 
 
 II. iii. 142. 
 
 NOTHING could poffibly be more inte- 
 refting to Helen, than the ^circumftances in 
 which flie is here reprefented : it was ne- 
 ceflary therefore to exhibit her, as Homer 
 we fee has, with much eagernefs and impe- 
 tuofity in her motion. But what can be 
 more calm and repofed than the attitude 
 wherein the Helen of Mr. Pope appears ? 
 
 O'er her fair face a fnowy veil/he threw, 
 And foftly fighing from the loom withdrew: 
 Her handmaids - -- wait 
 Her filent footfteps to the Scaan gate. 
 
 THOSE expreflions of fpeed and impe- 
 tuofity, which occur fo often in the original 
 lines, viz. GLVTIKIX, w^araj a<\Ja IKCWQV. 
 would have been fufficient, one fhould have 
 imagined, to have guarded a tranflator from 
 falling into an impropriety of this kind. 
 
 THIS brings to my mind another in- 
 ftance of the fame nature, where our Eng- 
 
 liih
 
 L E T T E R XX. 91 
 
 iifh poet, by not attending to the particular 
 expreffion of his author, has given us a pic- 
 ture of a very different kind than what 
 Homer intended. In the firft Iliad the 
 reader is introduced into a council of the 
 Grecian chiefs, where very warm debates 
 arife between Agamemnon and Achilles. 
 As nothing was likely to prove more fatal 
 to the Grecians than a difTenfion between 
 thofe two princes, the venerable old Neflor 
 is reprefented as greatly alarmed at the con- 
 fequences of this quarrel, and riling up to 
 moderate between them with a vivacity 
 beyond his years ; this circumftance Ho- 
 mer has happily intimated by a fingle word: 
 
 ANOPOT2E. 
 
 Upon which one of the commentators very 
 juftly obferves ut in re magna et pericu- 
 lofa, non placide aflurgentemfacit, fed pro- 
 rumpentem Jenem quoque. This circum- 
 ftance Horace feems to have had particular- 
 ly in his view in the epiftle to Lollius : 
 
 Neftor componere lites 
 Inter Peleiden feflinat et inter Atriden- 
 
 Ep. i. 2. 
 But
 
 92 L E T T E R XX: 
 
 But Mr. Pope has utterly overlooked this 
 beauty, and fubftituted an idea very diffe- 
 rent from that which the verb anpuv fug- 
 gefts: he renders it, 
 
 Slow from his feat arofe the Pylianfage. 
 
 Now a more unfortunate word could fcarce- 
 ly have been joined with arofe, as it deftroys 
 the whole fpirit of the piece, and is juft the 
 reverfe of what both the occafion and the 
 original required. 
 
 I DOUBT, Euphronius, you are growing 
 weary : will you have patience, however, 
 whilft I mention one obfervation more ? 
 
 WHEN Menelaus and Paris enter the 
 lifts, Pope fays, 
 
 Amidft the dreadful vale the chiefs advance , 
 All pale with rage, and flake the threatening 
 lance. 
 
 In the original it is, 
 
 - "' 341-' 
 
 But does not the expreffion - all pale 
 ivitb rage - call up a contrary idea to
 
 LETTER XXI. 93 
 
 xojuMyoi ? The former feems to 
 fuggeft to one's imagination the ridiculous 
 paflionof a couple of female fcolds; where- 
 as the latter conveys the terrifying image 
 of two indignant heroes, animated with 
 calm and deliberate valor. Farewel. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 To CLEORA. 
 
 AFTE R having read your laft letter, I 
 can no longer doubt of the truth of 
 thofe falutary effects, which are faid to 
 have been produced by the application of 
 certain written words. I have myfelf ex- 
 perienced the poflibility of the thing : and a 
 few ftrokes of your pen have abated a pain, 
 which of all others is the moft uneafy, and 
 the moft difficult to be relieved ; even the 
 pain, my Cledra, of the mind. ' To fym- 
 pathize with my fufferings, as Cleora kindly 
 allures me (he does, is to affuage them; and 
 half the uneafmefs of her abfence is remov- 
 ed, when fhe tells me that fhe regrets 
 mine. 
 
 SINCE
 
 94 LETTER XXI. 
 
 SINCE I thus affuredly find that you carl 
 work miracles, I will believe likewife that 
 you have the gift of prophecy 5 and I can 
 no longer defpair that the time will come, 
 when we fhall again meetj fince you have 
 abfolurely pronounced that it will. I have 
 ventured, therefore (as you will fee by my 
 laft letter) already to name the day. la 
 the mean time, I amufe rnyfelf with do^ 
 ing every thing that looks like a prepara- 
 tion for my journey ; e gla apro k brae- 
 da per Jlringervi afettuofamente al mio 
 fenno. 
 
 THE truth is, you are every inflant in 
 my thoughts, and each occurrence that 
 arifes fuggefts you to my remembrance* 
 If I fee a clear fky, I wim it may extend 
 to you ; and if I obferve a cloudy one, I 
 am uneafy left my Cleora mould be expofed 
 to it. I never read an interefting ftory, 
 of a pertinent remark, that I do not long to 
 communicate it to you, and learn to double 
 my relim by hearing your judicious obfer-* 
 vations. I cannot take a turn in my garden 
 but every walk calls you into my mind. Ah 
 Cleora ! I never view thofe fcenes of our 
 former conventions, without a figh. Judge 
 
 then
 
 LETTER XXI. 95 
 
 then how often I figh, when, every object 
 that furrounds me brings you frefh to my 
 imagination. You remember the attitude 
 in which the faithful Penelope is drawn in 
 Pope's Odifley, when fhe goes to fetch 
 the bow of Ulyfles for the fuitors : 
 
 Acrofs her knees foe laid the wellknewn bow, 
 en/we fat 1 , and tears began to flow. 
 
 I find myfelf in numberlefs fuch tender re- 
 veries : and if I were ever fo much dif- 
 pofed to banim you from my thoughts, it 
 would be impoffible I mould do fo, in a 
 place where every thing that prefents itfelf 
 to me, reminds me that you were once 
 here. I muft not expect (I ought not, in- 
 deed, for the fake of your repofe to wifh) 
 to be thus frequently and thus fondly the 
 fubject of your meditations : but may 1 
 not hope that you employ a few moments 
 at leaft of every day, in thinking of him 
 whofe whole attention is fixed upon you ? 
 
 I- HAVE fent you the hiftory of the 
 Conqueft of Mexico, in Englifh, which, 
 as it is tranflated by fo good a hand, will be 
 equally pleafing and lefs troublefome, than 
 reading it in the original. I long to be of 
 
 this
 
 96 LETTER XXlt 
 
 this party in your expedition to the new' 
 world, as I lately was in your conquefts of 
 Italy. How happily could I fit by Cleora'a 
 fide, and purfue the Spaniards in their tri- 
 umphs, as I formerly did the Romans ; or 
 make a tranfition from a nation of heroes 
 to a republic of ants ! Glorious days in- 
 deed ! when we pafled whole mornings 
 either with dictators or butterflies ; and 
 fometimes fent out a colony of Romans, 
 and fometimes of emmits ! Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 20 PA LEMON. 
 
 TH O' I am not convinced by your ar- 
 guments, I am charmed by your elo- 
 quence, and admire the preacher at the 
 fame time that I condemn the doctrine. 
 But there is no fort of perfons whofe opi^ 
 nions one is more inclined to wifli right, 
 than thofe who are ingeniouily in the 
 wrong ; who have the art to add grace to 
 error, and can dignify miftakes. 
 
 FORGIVE
 
 LETTER XXII. 97 
 
 FORGIVE me then, Palemon, if I am 
 more than commonly felicitous that you 
 fhould review the fentiments you advanced, 
 (I will not fay, fupported) with fo much ele- 
 gance in your laft letter, and that I prefs 
 you to re-confider your notions again and 
 again. Can I fail, indeed, to wim that 
 you may find reafon to renounce an opinion, 
 which may poffibly one day or other de- 
 prive me of a friend, and my country of a 
 patriot ? while Providence, perhaps, would 
 yet have fpared him to both. Can I fail to 
 regret, that I mould hold one of the moft 
 valuable enjoyments of my life upon a te- 
 nure more than ordinarily precarious ? and 
 that, befides thofe numberlefs accidents by 
 which chance may fnatch you from the 
 world, a gloomy iky or a crofs event may 
 determine Palemon to put an end to a life, 
 which all who have been a witnefs to, 
 muft for ever applaud. 
 
 BUT " Does the fupreme Being (you 
 ft afk) difpenfe his bounty upon conditions 
 " different from all other benefactors, and 
 " will he force a gift upon me which is no 
 " longer acceptable ?" * 
 
 *SeeLett.Perfanes,vol.ii.let.64. where the arguments 
 in favor of fuicide, oppofed \f\ this letter, are advanced. 
 
 H LET
 
 98 LETTER XXII. 
 
 LET me demand in return, Whether a 
 creature, fo confined in its perceptions as 
 man, may not miftake his true intereft, 
 and reject, from a partial regard, what 
 would be well worth accepting upon a more 
 comprehenlive view ? May not even a mor- 
 tal benefactor better underftand the value 
 of that prefent he offers, than the perfon 
 to whom it is tendered ? And mall the fu- 
 preme Author of all beneficence be efteem- 
 ed lefs wife in diftinguifhing the worth of 
 thofe grants he confers ? I agree with you, 
 indeed, that we were called into exiftence in 
 order to receive happinefs : but I can by no 
 means infer from thence, that we are at 
 liberty to refign our being whenever it be- 
 comes a burden. On the contrary, thofe 
 premiffes fee'm to lead to a conclufion direct- 
 ly oppofite j and if the gracious author of 
 my life created me with an intent to make 
 me happy, does it not neceflarily follow, 
 that I mall moft certainly obtain that pri- 
 vilege, if I do not juftly forfeit it by ruy 
 own mifconduct ? Numberlefs ends may be 
 anfwered in the fchemes of Providence, by 
 turning atide or interrupting that dream of 
 bounty, which our limited reafon ean in 
 
 no
 
 LETTER XXII. 99 
 
 no fort difcover. How prefumptuous then 
 muft it be, to throw back a grant upon the 
 hands of the great Governor of the uni- 
 verfe, merely becaufe we do not immediate- 
 ly feel, or underftand, its full advantages ! 
 
 THAT it is the intention of the Deity 
 we fhould remain in this ftate of being, 
 till his fummons calls us away, feems as 
 evident as that we at firft entered into it 
 by his command : for we can no more 
 continue, than we could begin to exift, 
 without the concurrence of the fame fu- 
 preme interpofition. While, therefore, the 
 animal powers do not ceafe to perform 
 thofe functions to which they were directed 
 by their great author, itmayjuftly, Ithink, 
 be concluded that it is his defign they fhould 
 not. 
 
 STILL, however, you urge, " That by 
 " putting a period to your own exiftence 
 " here, you only alter the modification of 
 " matter; and how (you afk) is the or- 
 " der of Providence difturbed by changing 
 " the combination of a parcel of atoms 
 <c from one figure to another ?" 
 
 BUT furely, Palemon, there is a fallacy 
 
 in this reafoning : fuicide is fomething more 
 
 H 2 than
 
 ioo LETTER xxn. 
 
 than changing the component parts of the 
 animal machine. It is ftriking out a fpi- 
 ritual fubflance from that rank of beings, 
 wherein the wife Author of nature has 
 placed it, and forcibly breaking in upon 
 fome other order of exiftence. And as it 
 is impoffible for the limited powers of rea- 
 fon to penetrate the defigns of Providence, 
 it can never be proved that this is not dif- 
 turbiog the fchemes of nature. We pof- 
 fibly may be, and indeed moft probably are, 
 connected with fome higher rank of crea- 
 tures : now philofophy will never be able 
 to determine, that thofe connections may 
 not be difconcerted by prematurely quitting 
 our prefent manfion. 
 
 ONE of the flrongeft paflions implanted 
 in human nature, is the fear of death. It 
 feems, indeed, to be placed by Providence, 
 as a fort of guard to retain mankind with- 
 in their appointed ftation. Why elfe fhould 
 it fo univerfally and almoft invariably ope- 
 rate ? It is obfervable that no fuch affec- 
 tion appears in any fpecies of beings below 
 us. They have no temptation, or no abi- 
 lity, to defert the poft afTigned to them, 
 and therefore, it fhould feern, they have 
 
 no
 
 LETTER XXII. 101 
 
 no checks of this kind to keep them with- 
 in their prefcribed limits. This general 
 horror then in mankind attheapprehenfion 
 of their diflblution, carries with it, I think, 
 a very ftrong preemptive argument in fa- 
 vor of the opinion I am endeavoring to 
 maintain. For if it were not given to us 
 for the purpofe I have fuppofed, what other 
 can it ferve ? Can it be imagined that the 
 benevolent Author of nature would have fo 
 deeply woven it into our constitution, only 
 to interrupt our prefent enjoyments? 
 
 I CANNOT, I confefs, difcover how the 
 practice of fuicide can be juftified upon any 
 principle, except upon that of downright 
 atheifm. If we fuppofe a good Providence 
 to govern the world, the confequence is 
 undeniable, that we muft entirely rely up- 
 on it. If we imagine an evil one to prevail, 
 what chance is there of finding that happi- 
 nefs in another fcene, which we have in 
 vain fought for in this ? The fame malevo- 
 lent omnipotence can as eafily purfue us in 
 the next remove, as perfecute us in this our 
 firft ftation. 
 
 UPON the whole, Palemon, prudence 
 
 ftrongly forbids fo hazardous an experiment 
 
 H3 as
 
 102 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 as that of being our own executioners. We 
 know the worft that can happen in fupport- 
 ing life under all its moft wretched circum- 
 ftances : and if we mould be miftaken in 
 thinking our duty to endure a lead, which 
 in truth we may fecurely lay down j it is 
 an error extremely limited in its confe- 
 quences. They cannot extend beyond this 
 prefent exiftence, and poffibly may end 
 much earlier : whereas no mortal can, with 
 the leaft degree of afTurance, pronounce 
 what may not be the effects of acting agree- 
 ably to the contrary opinion. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 To CLYTANDER. 
 
 Sept. 23, 1733. 
 
 I A M by no means in the fentiments of 
 that Grecian of your acquaintance, who 
 as often as he was preffcd to marry, re- 
 plied either that it was too foon or too late : 
 and I think my favorite author, the fenfible 
 Montaigne, a little too fevere when he ob- 
 ferves upon this ftory, qu'ilfautrefufer I'op- 
 portunite a toute aftion importune : for, 
 
 higher
 
 LETTER XXIII. 103 
 
 higher of the genial bed by far y 
 And with myfterious reverence I deem. 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 However, I am not adventurous enough to 
 join with thofe friends you mention, who 
 are foliciting you, it feems, to look out for 
 an engagement of this kind. It is an union 
 which requires fo much delicacy in the ce- 
 menting ; it is a commerce where fo many 
 nice circumftances muft concur to render 
 it fuccefsful, that I would not venture to pro- 
 nounce of any two perfons, that they are 
 qualified for each other. 
 
 I DO not know a woman in the world 
 who feems more formed to render a man of 
 fenfe and generofity happy in this ftate, than 
 Amaiia : yet I mould fcarcely have courage 
 to recommend even Amafia to my friend. 
 You have feen her, I dare fay, a thoufand 
 times; but I am perfuaded me never attract- 
 ed )jour particular obfervation : for me is in 
 the number of thofe who are ever overlook- 
 ed in a crowd. As often as I converfe with 
 her, me puts me in mind of the golden age : 
 there is an innocency and fimplicity in all 
 her words and acftions, that equals any thing 
 the poets have delcribed of thofe pure and 
 H 4 artlefs
 
 104 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 artlefs times. Indeed the greateft part of 
 her life has been fpent much in the fame 
 way as the early inhabitants of the world, 
 in that blamelefs period of it, ufed, we arc 
 told, to difpofe of theirs 3 under the made 
 and fhelter of her own venerable oaks, and 
 in thofe rural amufements which are fure to 
 produce a confirmed habit both of health 
 and chearfulnefs. Amafia never faid, or at- 
 tempted to fay, a fprightly thing in all her 
 life ; but me has done ten thoufand gene- 
 rous ones : and if me is not the moft con^ 
 fpicuous figure at an afTembly, me never 
 envied or maligned thpfe who are. Her 
 heart is all tendernefs and benevolence i no 
 fuccefs ever attended any of her acquaint- 
 ance, which did not fill her bofom with 
 the moft difmterefted complacency ; as no 
 misfortune ever reached her knowledge, that 
 fhe did not relieve or participate by her ge- 
 nerofity. Jf ever me mould fall into the 
 hands of a man me loves (and I am per- 
 fuaded me would efteem it the worft kind 
 of proftitution to refign herfelf into any 
 other) her whole life would be one conti- 
 nued feries of kindnefs and compliance, 
 humble opinion flip has of her own 
 uncommon
 
 LETTER XXIV. 105 
 
 uncommon merit, would make her fo 
 much the more fenfible of her husband's ; 
 and thofe little fubmiffions on his fide, 
 which a woman of more pride and fpirit 
 would confider only as a claim of right, 
 would be efteemed by Amafia as fo many 
 additional motives to her love and grati- 
 tude. 
 
 BUT if I dwell any longer upon this 
 amiable picture, I may be in danger, per- 
 haps, of refembling that ancient artift who 
 grew enamored of the production of his 
 own pencil : for my fecurity, therefore, as 
 well as to put an end to your trouble, it will 
 be beft, I believe, to flop here. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 70 O R O N T E S. 
 
 I WAS apprehenfive my laft had given 
 you but too much occafion of recollect- 
 ing the remark of one of your admired an- 
 tients, that " the art of eloquence is taught 
 " by man, but it is the gods alone that in- 
 ft fpirethe wifdom of filence." That wtf- 
 4om, however, you are not willing I fliould 
 
 yet
 
 io6 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 yet pradlife j and you muft needs, it feems, 
 have my farther fentiments upon the fub- 
 ject of Oratory. Be it then as my friend 
 requires -, but let him remember, it is a 
 hazardous thing to put fome men upon 
 talking on a favorite topic. 
 
 ONE of the moft pleafing exercifes of 
 the imagination, is that wherein me is em- 
 ployed in comparing diflinct ideas, and dif- 
 covering their various refemblances. There 
 is no fingle perception of the mind that is 
 not capable of an infinite number of confi- 
 derations in reference to other objects ; and 
 it is in the novelty and variety of thefe un- 
 expected connections, that the richnefs of a 
 writer's genius is chiefly difplayed. A vi- 
 gorous and lively fancy does not tamely con- 
 fine itfelf to the idea which lies before it, but 
 looks beyond the immediate object of itscon- 
 templation,and obferves how it ftandsin con- 
 formity with numberlefs others. It is the pre- 
 rogative of the human mind thus to bring its 
 images together, and compare the feveral 
 circumftances of fimilitudethatattendthem. 
 By this means eloquence exercifes a kind of 
 magic power j me can raife innumerable 
 beauties from the moft barren fubjects, and 
 
 give
 
 LETTER XXIV. 107 
 
 give the grace of novelty to the moft com- 
 mon. The imagination is thus kept awake 
 by the moft agreeable motion, and enter- 
 tained with a thoufand different views both 
 of art and nature, which ftill terminate up- 
 on the principal object. For this reafon I 
 prefer the metaphor to the fimile, as a far 
 more pleafing method of illuftration. In 
 the former, the action of the mind is lefs 
 languid, as it is employed at one and the 
 fame inftant in comparing the refcmblance 
 with the idea it attends ; whereas in the 
 latter, its operations are more flow, being 
 obliged to iland ftill as it were, in order to 
 contemplate firft the principal object, and 
 then its correfponding image. 
 
 OF all the flowers, however, that em- 
 bellifhthe regions of eloquence, there is none 
 of a more tender and delicate nature ; as 
 there is nothing wherein a fine writer is 
 more diftinguifhed from one of an ordinary 
 clafs, than in the conduct and application 
 of this figure. He is at liberty, indeed, to 
 range thro' the whole compafs of creation, 
 and collect his images from every object 
 that furrounds him. But tho' he may be 
 thus amply furnished with materials, great 
 
 judgment
 
 io8 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 judgment is required in choofing them : 
 for to render a metaphor perfect, it muft 
 not only be apt, but pleating ; it muft enter- 
 tain, as well as enlighten. Mr. Dryden, 
 therefore, can ^ardly efcape the imputation 
 of a very unpardonable breach of delicacy, 
 when, in the dedication of his Juvenal, he 
 obfervesto the duke of Dorfet, that " fome 
 " bad poems carry their owners marks 
 <e about them fome brand or other on this 
 " buttock or that ear, that it is notorious 
 " who is the owner of the cattle." The 
 poet Manilius feems to have raifed an image 
 of the fame injudicious kind, in that com- 
 pliment which he pays to Homer in the 
 following verfes : 
 
 citjufque ex ore prof ufos 
 Omnis pofteritas latices in carmine duxit. 
 
 I COULD never read thefe lines without 
 calling to mind thofe grotefque heads, which 
 are fixed to the roof of the old building of 
 King's college in Cambridge ; which the 
 ingenious architect has reprefented in the 
 adl of vomiting out the rain, that falls thro* 
 certain pipes moft judicioufly ftuck in their 
 mouths for that purpofe. Mr. Addifon 
 
 recommends
 
 LETTER XXIV. 109 
 
 recommends a method of trying the pro- 
 priety of a metaphor, by drawing it out in 
 vifible reprefentation. Agreeably to his no- 
 tion, I think this curious conceit of the 
 builder might be employed to the advan- 
 tage of the youth in that univerfity, and 
 fupply as proper an illuftration of the ab- 
 furdity of the poet's image, as that antient 
 picture which ./Elian mentions, where Ho- 
 mer was figured with a ftream running 
 from his mouth, and a groupe of poets 
 lapping it up at a diftance. 
 
 BUT befides a certain decorum which is 
 requifite to conftitute a perfect metaphor; 
 a writer of true tafte and genius will al- 
 ways fingle out the moft obvious images, 
 and place them in the moft unobferved 
 points of refemblance. Accordingly, all al- 
 lufions which point to the more abftrufe 
 branches of the arts or fciences, and with 
 which none can be fuppofed to be acquaint- 
 ed but thofe who have gone far into the 
 deeper ftudies, fhould be carefully avoided, 
 not only as pedantic, but impertinent; as 
 they pervert the fingle ufe of this figure* 
 and add neither ^race nor force to the idea 
 they would elucidate. The moft pleafing 
 metaphors therefore are thofe which are de- 
 rived
 
 i io LETTER XXIV. 
 
 rived from the more frequent occurrences of 
 art or nature, or the civil tranfadions and 
 cuftoms of mankind. Thus how expref- 
 live, yet at the fame time how familiar, is 
 that image which Otway has put into the 
 mouth of Metellus, in his play of ^Caius 
 Marius, where he calls Sulpicius 
 
 That mad wild bull whom Marius lets loofe 
 On each occafion, when he'd make Rome feel 
 
 him> 
 To tofs our laws and liberties i ' th* air. 
 
 BUT I never met with a more agreeable, 
 or a more fignificant allufion, than one in 
 Qujntus Curtius, which is borrowed from 
 the moft ordinary object in common life. 
 That author reprefents Craterus as diffuad- 
 ing Alexander from continuing his In- 
 dian expedition, againft enemies too con- 
 temptible, he tells him, for the glory of his 
 arms, and concludes his fpeech with the 
 following beautiful thought : Cito gloria 
 obfolefcit in fordidis -bqftibus ; nee quidquam 
 indignius eft quam confumi earn ubi non po- 
 teft oflendi. Now I am got into Latin quo- 
 tations, I cannot forbear mentioning a moft 
 beautiful pafTage, which I lately had the 
 
 pleafure
 
 LETTER XXIV. m 
 
 pleafure of reading, and which I will ven- 
 ture to produce as equal to any thing of the 
 fame kind, either in antientor modern com- 
 pofition. I met with it in the fpeech of a 
 young orator, to whom I have the happi- 
 nefs to be related, and who will one day, I 
 perfuade myfalf, prove as great an honour 
 to his country, as he is at prefent to that 
 learned fociety of which he is a member. 
 He is fpeaking of the writings of a celebrated 
 prelate, who received his education in that 
 famous feminary to which he belongs, and 
 illuftrates the peculiar elegance which diftin- 
 guifhes all that author's performances, by the 
 following juft and pleafing aflemblage of 
 diclion and imagery : In quodcunque opusfe 
 parabat (et -per omnla fane verfatile illiusfe 
 duxit ingenium) nefcio qua luce fibi foil pro- 
 prid, id illumina'uit j baud diflimUi ei aureo 
 Titiani radio, qui per totam tabulam glif- 
 cens earn i^ere fuam denundat. As there is 
 nothing more entertaining to the imagina- 
 tion than the productions of the fine arts ; 
 there is no kind of fimilitudes or metaphors 
 which are in general more ftriking, than 
 thofe which allude to their properties and 
 effeds. It is with great judgment, therefore, 
 
 that
 
 ii2 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 that the ingenious author of the dialogue 
 concerning the Decline of eloquence among 
 the Romans, recommends to his orator a ge- 
 neral acquaintance with the whole circle of 
 the polite arts. A knowledge of this fort 
 furnifhes an author with illuftrations of the 
 tnoft agreeable kind, and fets a glofs upon 
 his compofitions that enlivens them with 
 fingular grace and fpirit. 
 
 WERE I to point out the beauty and ef- 
 ficacy of metaphorical language, by parti- 
 cular inftances, I fhould rather draw my 
 examples from the moderns than the anti- 
 ents; the latter being fcarcely, I think, fo 
 exacT: and delicate in this article of compofi- 
 tion as the former. The great improve- 
 ments, indeed, in natural knowledge, which 
 have been made in thefe later ages, have 
 opened aveinof metaphor entirely unkrtown 
 to the antients, and enriched the fancy of 
 modern wits with a new ftock of the moft 
 pleafing ideas: a circumftance which muft 
 give them a very confiderable advantage 
 over the Greeks and Romans. I am fure at 
 leaft, of all the writings with which I have 
 been converfant, the works of Mr. Addifon 
 will afford the moft abundant fuppiy of this 
 
 kind.
 
 .LETTER XXIV. 113 
 
 kind, in all its variety and perfection. Truth 
 and beauty of imagery is, indeed, his cha- 
 rafteriftical diftindion, and the principal 
 point of eminence which raifes his ftylfe 
 above that of every author in any language 
 that has fallen within my notice. He is 
 every where highly figurative ; yet at the 
 fame time he is the moft eafy and perfpi- 
 cuous writer I have ever periifed. The rea- 
 fbn is, his images are always taken from the 
 moft natural and familiar appearances j as 
 they are chofen with the utmoft delicacy 
 and judgment. Suffer me only to mention 
 one out of a thoufand I could name, as it 
 appears to me the fineft and moft expreffive 
 that ever language conveyed. It is in one 
 of his inimitable papers upon Paradife Loft, 
 where he is taking notice of thofe changes 
 in nature, which the author of that truly 
 divine poem defcri'oes as immediately fuc- 
 ceeding the fall. Among other prodigies, 
 Milton reprefents the fun in an eclipfej and 
 at the fame time a bright cloud in the 
 weftern regions of the heavens defcending 
 with a band of angels. Mr, Addifon, in 
 order to (hew his author's art and judgment 
 In the conduct and difpofition of this fub- 
 I lime
 
 ii4 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 lime fcenery, obferves *' the whole theatre 
 ct of nature is darkened, that this glorious 
 " machine may appear in all its luftre and 
 <f magnificence." I know not, Orontes, 
 whether you will agree in fentiment with 
 me ; but I muft confefs I am at a lofs which 
 to admire moil upon this occafion, the poet 
 or the critic. 
 
 THERE is a double beauty in images of 
 this kind when they are not only metaphors, 
 but allufions. I was much pleafed with an 
 inftance of this uncommon fpecies, in a lit- 
 tle poem entitled The Spleen. The author 
 of that piece (who has thrown together 
 more original thoughts than I ever read in 
 the fame compafs of lines) fpeaking of the 
 advantages of exercife in diffipating thofe 
 gloomy vapors, which are fo apt to hang 
 upon fome minds, employs the following 
 image : 
 
 Throw but ajtone, the giant dies. 
 
 You will obferve, that the metaphor 
 here is conceived with great propriety of 
 thought, if we confider it only in its pri- 
 mary view : but when we fee it pointing 
 ftill farther, and hinting at the ftory of 
 
 David
 
 LETTER XXIV. 115 
 
 David and Goliath, it receives a very con- 
 fiderable improvement from this double ap- 
 plication. 
 
 IT muft be owned fome of the greateft 
 authors, both antient and modern, have 
 made many remarkable flips in the manage- 
 ment of this figure ; and have fometimes 
 exprefied themfelves with as much impro- 
 priety as an honeft failor of my acquaint- 
 ance, a captain of a privateer, who wrote 
 an account to his owners of an engagement, 
 <l in which he had the good fortune, 
 " he told them, of having only one of his 
 " bands mot thro' the nofe" The great cau- 
 tion therefore mould be, never to join any 
 idea to a figurative expreffion, which would 
 not be applicable to it in a literal fenfe. 
 Thus Cicero, in his treatife De claris orato- 
 ribiiSy fpeaking of the family of the Scipi- 
 os, is guilty of an impropriety of this kind : 
 O generofam ftirpem (fays he) et tanquamin 
 imam arborem plura genera^ fa in iflam do~ 
 mum multorum infitam atque illuminatam 
 fapientiam*. Mr. Addifon, likewife, has 
 
 fallen 
 
 * The celebrated Menage has offered a conjecture, 
 
 which he thinks will mtirely remove the charge brought 
 
 againft Cicero from this paffage. He luppofes that 
 
 illuminatam may be taken in the fame fenie as inocu- 
 
 1 2 latam;
 
 ii6 LETTER XXIV, 
 
 fallen into an error of the fame fort, where 
 he obferves, " there is not a fingle view of 
 <c human nature, which is not fufficient to 
 " extinguifo fat feeds of pride." In this paf- 
 fage he evidently unites images together, 
 which have no connection with each other. 
 When a feed has loft its power of vegeta- 
 tion, I might in a metaphorical fenfe fay it. 
 is extinguifted : but when in the fame fenfe 
 I call that difpofition of the heart which 
 produces pride, fat feed of that paffion, I 
 cannot, without introducing a confufion of 
 ideas, apply any word \,ofeed y but whatcor- 
 
 refponds 
 
 latam ; Cicero having in another part of his writings 
 uted the word hiniina in the fignification of ocitli : 
 " Democritus luminibus amifiis." Tufcul. v. vid. Me- 
 nagiana, .torn. iii. p. 46. That lumina is fometime* 
 ufed by Cicero, and other writers of equal authority, 
 in the fignification or ocali, is moil certain: but 
 whenever ic is fo u(eJ, it muft always be by metony- 
 my. Now a word which operates by the force of that 
 1-i-gure, can never, without occasioning the utmoit' 
 confulion of images, be converted into a metaphor 
 derived from the proper term for which the metony- 
 my is fubflitfjfed : becaufe the moment it drops its 
 metonymical office, it reverts to its prjmary employ- 
 ment, and confequcntly introduces an idea utterly 
 different from that which it railed in its figurative 
 ftate. It is not probable therefore that illuminaiam^ 
 in the fenfe for which Menage contends, could have 
 been authorized by common trie ; as it would be im- 
 poifible, perhaps, to produce a metaphorical term of 
 
 general-
 
 LETTER XXIV. 117 
 
 refponds with its real properties or circum- 
 (rances. 
 
 ANOTHER miftake in the qfe of this ft- 
 gure is, when different images are crouded 
 too clofe upon each other, or (to exprefs my- 
 felf after Quintilian) when a fentence fets 
 out with ftorms and tempefts, and ends 
 with fire and flames. A judicious reader 
 will obferve an impropriety of this kind in 
 one of the efTays of the inimitable au- 
 thor laft quoted, where he tells us, " that 
 " women were formed to temper mankind, 
 " not to fet an edge upon their minds, and 
 
 general currency, that is riot founded in an obvious 
 and ftriking fimilitude : for it is this fimilicude alone, 
 it fhould feem, that could render it popular. Thus 
 tbere is an evident reafon why that method of ingraft- 
 ing, which is performed by inferting a bud into a irock, 
 fhould be called inoculation ; as the bud fo inferted 
 bears fome refemblance to the eye of certain animals : 
 but it bears^npne to the idea of light in any of its qua- 
 lities or ertectTf If Cicerq therefore ufed illununatam^ 
 to exprefs the fame idea as inoculatam, it muit be by 4 
 fort of figure peculiar to himfelf, and to which Rhe- 
 toric has not yet given a name ; nor I fuppofe ever will : 
 for no judicious writer, I imagine, will venture to fol- 
 low him in fo extravagant a licence. Upon the whole, 
 it ieems more reafonable to fay that Cicero, in the paf- 
 fsge under confideration, has inadvertently jumbled to- 
 gether incongruous ideas ; than to fuppole, either that 
 He could have been the author of fo unnatural a me- 
 taphor, or that it had before bee adopted by common 
 language. 
 
 I 3 "blow
 
 ii8 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 " blow up in them thofe paffions which are 
 " too apt to rife of their own accord." 
 Thus a celebrated orator, fpeaking of that 
 little blackening fpirit in mankind, which 
 is fond of difcovering fpots in the brighted 
 characters, remarks, that when perfons of 
 this caft of temper have mentioned any vir- 
 tue of their neighbor, " it is well, if to ba- 
 tc lance the matter they do not clap fome 
 " fault into the oppolite fcale, that fo the 
 ** enemy may not go off' with flying colors" 
 Dr. Swift alfo, whofe ftyle is the moft pure 
 and flmple of any of our claffic writers, 
 and who does not feem in general very fond 
 of the figurative manner, is not always free 
 from cenfure in his management of the me- 
 taphorical language. In his eflay on the 
 Diffentions of Athens and Rome, fpeaking 
 of the populace, he takes notice, that " tho*- 
 " in their corrupt notions of divine wbr- 
 <c (hip, they are apt to multiply their 
 * gods, yet their earthly devotion is fel- 
 <c dom paid to above one idol at a time, 
 t( whofe oar they pull with lefs murmur- 
 " ing, and much more fkill, than when 
 '* they fhare the lading^ or even hold the 
 <{ behn." The moft injudicious writer could 
 not poffibly have fallen into a more abfurd 
 
 incon-
 
 LETTER XXIV. 119 
 
 inconfiftency of metaphor, than this emi- 
 nent wit has inadvertently been betrayed into 
 in this paflage. For what connection is 
 there between worshiping and rowing ? and 
 who ever heard before of pulling the oar 
 of an idol ? 
 
 As there are certain metaphors which are 
 common to all languages ; there are others 
 of fo delicate a nature as not to bear tranf- 
 planting from one nation into another. 
 There is no part, therefore, of the bufmefs 
 of a tranfhtor more difficult to manage, 
 than this figure, as it requires great judg- 
 ment to diftinguifli when it may, and may 
 not, be naturalized with propriety and ele- 
 gance. The want of this neceflary difcern- 
 ment has led the common race of tranfla- 
 tors into great abfurdities, and is one of the 
 principal reafons that performances of this 
 kind are generally fo infipid. What ftrange 
 work, for inftance, would an injudicious 
 interpreter make with the following meta- 
 phor in Homer ? 
 
 yap isrzvTettw tin vpx i<fx.Tot.i 
 
 II. x. 173. 
 
 But Mr. Pope, by artfully dropping the 
 
 particular image, yet retaining the general 
 
 I 4 idea,
 
 320 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 idea, has happily preferved the fpirit of his 
 author, and at the fame time humored the 
 different tafle of his own countrymen ; 
 
 Each Jingle Greek, in this conclujiveftrife. 
 Stands on the marpeft edge of death or life. 
 
 AND now, Orontes, do you not think it 
 high time to be difmilfed from this fairy 
 land? Permit me, however, juft to add, 
 that this figure, which carts fo much light 
 and beauty upon works of genius, ought to 
 be entirely banifhed from the feverer com- 
 pofitions of philofophy. It is the bufinefs 
 of the latter to feparate refemblances, not 
 to find them, and to deliver her difcoveries 
 in the plained and moil unornamented ex- 
 preffions. Much difpute, and perhaps many 
 errors, might have been avoided, if meta- 
 phor had been thus confined within its pro- 
 per limits, and never wandred from the re- 
 gions of eloquence and poetry. 
 
 I am, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 $0 P H I L O T E S. 
 
 DON'T you begin to think that I ill de- 
 ferve the prefcription you fent me, 
 ftnce I have fcarce had the manners even to 
 thank you for it ? It muft be confefled I 
 have neglected to honor my phyjician with 
 the honor due unto him-, that is, I have 
 omitted, not only what I ought to have per- 
 formed in good breeding, but what I am 
 exprefly enjoined by my Bible. I am not, 
 however, entirely without excufe; a filly 
 one, I own ; neverthelefs, it is the truth : 
 I have lately been a good deal out of fpi- 
 rits. But at length the fit is over. Amongft 
 the number of thofe things which are want- 
 ing to fecure me from a return of it, I muft 
 always reckon the company of my friend. 
 1 have, indeed, frequent occahon for you ; 
 not in the way of your profeflion, but in a 
 better : in the way of friendfhip. There is 
 a healing quality in that intercourfe, which 
 a certain author has, with infinite propriety, 
 termed the medicine of life. It is a medi- 
 cine, which unluckily lies almoft wholly 
 qut of my reach j fortune having feparated 
 
 me
 
 122 LETTER XXV. 
 
 me from thofe few friends whom I pretend 
 or defire to claim. General acquaintances, 
 you know, lam not much inclined to culti- 
 vate; fo that lam at prefent, as much feclu- 
 ded from fociety as if 1 were zfojourncr in 
 ajlrange land. Tho' retirement is my dear 
 delight, yet, upon fome occasions, I think I 
 have too much of it ; and I agree with Bal- 
 ac *, que la folitude eft certainement une 
 belle choje : mais il y a flaijir d 'avoir 
 quelqifun quifache repondre j a qui on puijfe 
 dire de terns en terns, que la folitude eft une 
 belle cbofe. But I muft not forget, that as 
 I fometimes want company, you may as 
 often wim to be alone j and that I may, 
 perhaps, be at this inftant breaking in upon 
 one of thofe hours which you defire to en- 
 joy without interruption. J will only detain 
 you therefore whilft I add, that I am, &c. 
 
 * A very ingenious and fprightly correfpondence 
 having been publifhed fince the appearance of the pre- 
 fent Collection, under the title of A fer'ies of genuine 
 letters between Henry and Frances, London printed for 
 W. Johnfton in St. Paul's Church-yard, 1757 ; the au- 
 thor of Fitzofborne's Letters cannot refift the vanity of 
 obferving, that the tender and fenfible Frances has 
 done him the honour to compofe one of her epiftles 
 partly from what follows of the prefent letter to the 
 end, and partly from fome pailages taken from letter 
 xvi. p. 71, 72. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 To PHIDIPPUS. 
 
 IF that friend of yours, whom you are 
 defirous to add to the number f mine, 
 were endued with no other quality than the 
 laft you mentioned in the catalogue of his 
 virtues ; I fhould efteem his acquaintance 
 as one of my mofl valuable privileges. When 
 you affured me, therefore, of the generofity 
 of his difpofuion, I wanted no additional 
 motive to embrace your propofal of joining 
 you and him at * *. To fay truth, I con- 
 fider a generous mind as the nobleft work 
 of the creation, and am perfuaded, where- 
 ever it refides, no real merit can be want- 
 ing. It is, perhaps, the moft lingular of all 
 the moral endowments : I am fure at leaft, 
 it is often imputed where it cannot juftly 
 be claimed. The meaneft felf-love, under 
 fome refined difguife, frequently pafTes up T 
 on common obfervers for this godlike prin- 
 ciple ; and I have known many a popular 
 adtion attributed to this motive, when it 
 
 flowed
 
 124 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 flowed from no higher a fource than th$ 
 fuggeftions of concealed vanity. Good- na- 
 ture, as it has many features in common 
 with this virtue, is ufually miftaken for it : 
 the former, however, is but the effect, pof- 
 fibly, of a happy difpofition of the animal 
 ftructure, or, as Dryden fomewhere calls it, 
 of a certain tc milkinefs of blood j" whereas 
 the latter is feated in the mind, and can ne- 
 ver fubfift where good-fenfe and enlarged 
 fentiments have no exigence. It is entirely 
 founded, indeed, upon juftnefs of thought; 
 which, perhaps, is the reafon this virtue is 
 fo little the char act eriflic of mankind in ge- 
 neral. A man, whofe mind is warped by 
 the felfifh paffions, or contracted by the 
 narrow prejudices of feds or parties ; if he 
 does not want honefty, muft undoubtedly 
 want underftanding. The fame clouds that 
 darken his intellectual views, obftruct his 
 moral ones; and his generofity is extremely 
 circumfcribed, becaufe his reafon is exceed- 
 ingly limited. 
 
 IT is the diftinguiming pre-eminence of 
 the Chriftian fyftem, that it cherimes this 
 elevated principle in one of its nobleft ex- 
 ertions. Forgivenefs of injuries, I confefs, 
 
 indeed^
 
 LETTER XXVI. 125 
 
 indeed, has been inculcated by feveral of 
 the heathen moralifts ; but it never entered 
 into the eftablifhed ordinances of any religi- 
 on, till it had the fanction of the great author 
 of ours; I have often, however, wondered 
 that the antients, who raifed fo many vir- 
 tues and affections of the mind into divinities, 
 mould never have given a place in their 
 temples to Generofity; unlefs, perhaps, 
 they included it under the notion of FIDES 
 or HONOS. But furely me might reafona^ 
 bly have claimed a feparate altar, and fupe- 
 rior rites. A principle of honor may reftrain 
 a man from counteracting the focial ties, who 
 yet has nothing of that active flame of ge- 
 nerofity, which is too powerful to be con- 
 fined within the humbler boundaries of 
 mere negative duties. True generality rifes 
 above the ordinary rules of focial conduct:, 
 and flows with much too full a ftream to 
 be comprehended within the precife marks 
 of formal precepts. It is a vigorous prin- 
 ciple in the foul, which opens and expands 
 all her virtues far beyond thofe which are 
 only the forced and unnatural productions 
 of a timid obedience. The man who is 
 influenced fingly by motives of the latter 
 
 kind,
 
 116 L T t E R 
 
 kind, aims no higher than at certain au- 
 thoritative ftandards, without ever attempt- 
 ing to reach thofe glorious elevations, which 
 conftitute the only true heroifm of the fo- 
 cial character. Religion, without this fo- 
 vereign principle, degenerates into flavifli 
 fear, and wifdom into a fpecious cunning ; 
 learning is but the avarice of the mind, and 
 wit its more pleafing kind of madnefs. In a 
 word, generofity fancTiifies every paffion, and 
 adds grace to every acquifition of the foul ; 
 and if it does not necefTarily include, at leaft 
 it reflects a luftre, upon the whole circle of 
 moral and intellectual qualities. 
 
 BUT lam running into a general pane- 
 gyric upon generofity, when I only meant 
 to acknowledge the particular inftance you 
 have given me of yours, in being defirous 
 of communicating to me a treafure, which I 
 know much better how to value than how 
 to deferve. Be allured, therefore, tho' Eu- 
 phronius had none of thole polite accom- 
 plifhments you enumerate, yet, after what 
 you have informed me concerning his heart, 
 I fliould efteem his friendmip of more worth 
 than all the learning of antient Greece, and 
 all the virtu of modern Italy, I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 I2 7 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 T0 S A P P H O*. 
 
 March io y 1731. 
 
 WHI LE yet no am'rous youths around 
 thee bow, 
 
 Nor flatt'ringverfe conveys the faithlefsvow; 
 To graver notes will Sappho's foul attend, 
 And ere me hears the lover, hear the friend ? 
 LET maids lefs blefs'd employ their 
 
 meaner arts 
 To reign proud tyrants o'er unnumber'd 
 
 hearts $ 
 May Sappho learn (for nobler triumphs 
 
 born) 
 
 Thofe little conquefts of her fex to fcorn. 
 To form thy bofom to each gen'rous deed 5 
 To plant thy mind with every ufeful feed ; 
 Be thefe thy arts : nor fpare the grateful toil, 
 Where nature's hand has blefs'd the happy 
 
 foil. 
 So malt thou know, with' pleafing skill, to 
 
 blend 
 
 The lovely miftrefs and inftruftive friend : 
 So (halt thou know, when unrelenting time 
 Shall fpoil thofe charms yet op'ning to their 
 
 prime, 
 
 * A young lady of thirteen years of age.
 
 J2 8 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 To eafe the lofs of beauty's tranfient flow'r; 
 Wh ile reafon keeps what rapture gave before. 
 And oh ! while wit, fair dawning, fpreads 
 
 its ray, 
 
 Serenely riiing to a glorious day, 
 To hail the growing luftre oft be mine,' 
 Thou early fav'rite of the facred Nine ! 
 AND fhall the Mufe with blamelefs boaft 
 
 pretend,. 
 Jn youth's gay bloom that Sappho call'd me 
 
 friend : 
 That urg'd by me me fhun'd the dang'rous 
 
 way, 
 
 Where heedlefs mafds in endlefs error ftra'y $ 
 That fcorning foon her fex's idler art, 
 Fair praife infpir'd and virtue warrn'd her 
 
 heart ; 
 
 That fond to reach the diftant paths of fame; 
 I taught her infant genius where to aim ? 
 Thus when the feather'd choir firft tempt 
 
 the Iky, 
 
 And, all unskill'd, their feeble pinions try, 
 Th' experienced fire prefcribes th' advenf- 
 
 rous height, 
 Guides the young wing, and pleas'd attends 
 
 the flight. 
 
 LET-
 
 t 129 ] 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 PHIDIPPUS. 
 
 YE S, Phidippus, I entirely agree with 
 you ; the antients moft certainly had 
 much loftier notions of Friendfhip, than 
 feem to be generally entertained at prefent. 
 But may they not juftly be coniidered on 
 this fubject, as downright enthu Hafts ? 
 Whilft indeed they talk of friendfhip as a 
 virtue, or place it in a rank little inferior, 
 I can admire the generous warmth of their 
 fentiments ; but when they go fo far as to 
 make it a ferious queftion, whether juftice 
 herfelf ought not in fome particular cafes to 
 yield to this their fupreme affection of the 
 heart ; there, I confefs, they leave me far 
 behind. 
 
 IF we had not a treatife extant upon the 
 fubjec~t, we mould fcarce believe this fact 
 upon the credit of thofe authors who have 
 delivered it down to us : but Cicero him- 
 felf has ventured to take the affirmative fide 
 of this debate in his celebrated dialogue in- 
 fcribed Laslius. He followed, it feems, in 
 this notion the fentiments of the Grecian 
 K Theo-
 
 130 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 Theophraftus, who publicly maintained 
 the fame aftoniming theory. 
 
 IT mud be confefTed, however, thefc 
 admirers of the falfe fublime in friendship 
 talk upon this fubject with fo much cau- 
 tion, and in fuch general terms, that one is 
 inclined to think they themfelves a little fu- 
 fpefted the validity of thofe very principles 
 they would inculcate. We find, at leaft, 
 a remarkable inftance to that purpofe, in a 
 circumftance related of Chilo, one of thofe 
 famous fages who are diftinguilhed by the 
 pompous title of the wife men of Greece. 
 
 THAT celebrated philofopher, being up- 
 on his death-bed, addrefled himfelf, we are 
 informed, to his friends who flood round 
 him, to the following effect: "Icannot, thro' 
 " the courfe of a long life, look back with 
 tl uneafinefs upon any fingle inftance of my 
 " conduct, unlefs, perhaps, on that which 
 " I am going to mention ; wherein, I con- 
 " fefs, I am ftill doubtful whether I afted 
 " as I ought, or not. I was once appoint- 
 " ed judge in conjunction with two others, 
 " when my particular friend was arraign- 
 ** ed before us : Were the laws to have 
 " taken their free courfe, he muft inevi- 
 
 " tably
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 131 
 
 ct tably have been condemned to die. Af- 
 * ter much debate therefore with myfelf, 
 " I refolved upon this expedient : I gave 
 " my own vote according to my con- 
 c< fcience, but at the fame time employed 
 <f all my eloquence to prevail with my af- 
 c * fociates to abfolve the criminal. Now I 
 c * cannot but reflect upon this act: with con- 
 cc cern, as fearing there was fomething of 
 cc perfidy, in perfuading others to go coun- 
 " ter to what I myfelf efteemed right." 
 
 IT does not, certainly, require any great 
 depth of cafuiftry to pronounce upon a 
 cafe of this nature. And yet, had Tully, 
 that great mafler of reafon, been Chilo's 
 confeflbr upon this occafion, it is very plain 
 he would have given him abfolution; to 
 the juft fcandal of the moft ignorant curate 
 that ever lulled a country village. 
 
 WHAT I have here obferved, will fug- 
 geft, if I miftake not, a very clear anfwer 
 to the queftion you propofe j " Whence it 
 ct mould happen, that we meet with in- 
 f< ftances of friendfhip among the Greeks 
 " and Romans, far fuperior to any thing of 
 " the fame kind which modern times have 
 ct produced r" For while the greateft ge- 
 K 2 niufes
 
 132 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 niufes among them employed their talents 
 in exalting this noble affection, and it 
 was encouraged even by the laws them- 
 felves j what effects might one not expect 
 to arife from the concurrence of fuch power- 
 ful caufes ? The feveral examples of this 
 kind which you have pointed out, are un- 
 doubtedly highly animating and fingular; 
 to which give me leave to add one inftance 
 no lefs remarkable, tho', I think, not fo 
 commonly obferved. 
 
 EUDAMIDAS the Corinthian (as the 
 ftory is related in Lucian's Toxaris) tho' in 
 low circumftances himfelf, was happy in 
 the friendmip of two very wealthy perfons, 
 Charixenus and Aretheus. Eudamidas, find- 
 ing himfelf drawing near his end, made his 
 will in the following terms : " I leave my 
 <c mother to Aretheus, to be maintained and 
 " protected by him in her old age. I be- 
 " queath to Charixenus the care of my 
 " daughter; defiring that he would fee 
 <c her difpofed of in marriage, and portion 
 " her at the fame time with as ample a for- 
 " tune as his circumftances fhall admit : 
 " and, in cafe of the death of either of 
 " thefe my two friends, I fubftitute the fur- 
 " vivor in his place." 
 
 THIS
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 133 
 
 THIS will was looked upon by fome (as 
 we may well imagine) to be extremely ri- 
 diculous : however, the legatees received in- 
 formation of it with very different fenti- 
 ments, accepting of their refpective legacies 
 with great fatis faction. It happened that 
 Charixenus died a few days after his friend 
 theteftator; the furvivormip therefore tak- 
 ing place in favor of Aretheus, he accord- 
 ingly not only took upon himfelf the care 
 of his friend's mother, but alfo made an 
 equal diftribution of his eftate between 
 this child of Eudamidas, and an only daugh- 
 ter of his own, folemnizing both their mar- 
 riages on the fame day. 
 
 I DO not recollect that any of the mo- 
 derns have raifed their notions of friendship 
 to thefe extravagant heights, excepting on- 
 ly a very fingular French author, who talks 
 in a more romantic ftrain upon this fubject 
 than even the antients themielves. Could 
 you, Phidippus, believe a man in earneft, 
 who mould afTert that the fecret one has 
 fworn never to reveal, may without per- 
 jury be difcovered to one's friend ? Yet 
 honeft Montaigne has ventured gravely to 
 advance this extraordinary doctrine, in clear 
 K 3 and
 
 i 3 4 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 and pofitive terms. But I never knew a 
 fenfible man in my life, that was not an en- 
 thufiaft upon fome favorite point; as indeed 
 there is none where it is more excufable than 
 in the article of friendship. It is that which 
 affords the mofl pleafing funmine of our 
 days : if therefore we fee it now and then 
 break out with a more than reafonable 
 warmth and luftre ; who is there that will 
 not be inclined to pardon an excefs, which 
 can only flow from the moft generous prin- 
 ciples ? Adieu. 
 
 w 
 
 LETTER XXIX, 
 
 70 the fame. 
 HEN I mentioned grace as effential 
 
 in conftituting a fine writer; I ra- 
 ther hoped to have found my fentiments re- 
 flected back with a clearer light by yours, 
 than imagined you would have called upon 
 me to explain in form, what I only threw 
 out by accident. To confefs the truth, I 
 know not whether, after all that can be faid 
 to illuftrate this uncommon quality, it muft 
 not at laft be refolved into the poet's nequeo. 
 
 monfftrdr?
 
 LETTER XXIX. 135 
 
 monjlrare et fentlo tantum. In cafes of 
 this kind, where language does not fupply 
 us with proper words to exprefs the notions 
 of one's mind, we can only convey our fen^ 
 timents in figurative terms: a defect which 
 necefiarily introduces fome obfcurity. 
 
 I WILL not, therefore, undertake to 
 
 mark out with any fort of precifion, that 
 
 idea which I would exprefs by the word 
 
 grace: and, perhaps, .it can -no more be 
 
 clearly defcribed than juftly denned. To give 
 
 you, however, a general intimation of what 
 
 1 mean when I apply that term to compofi- 
 
 tions of genius, I would refemble it to that 
 
 eafy air, which fo remarkably diftinguimes 
 
 certain perfons of a genteel and liberal caft, 
 
 It confifts, not only in the particular beauty 
 
 of fingle parts, but arifes from the general 
 
 fymmetry and conftruction of the whole. 
 
 An author may be juft in his fentiments, 
 
 lively in his figures, and clear in his expref- 
 
 fion ; yet may have no claim to be admitted 
 
 into the rank of finifhed writers. Thofe 
 
 feveral members muft be fo agreeably united 
 
 as mutually to reflect beauty upoa each 
 
 Other: their arrangement muft be fo hap^ 
 
 pily difpofed as no*t to admit of the leaft 
 
 K 4.
 
 136 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 tranfpofition without manifeft prejudice to 
 the entire piece. The thoughts, the me- 
 taphors, the allufions, and the diction fhouid 
 appear eafy and natural, and feem to arife 
 like fo many fpontaneous productions, rather 
 than as the effects of art or labor. 
 
 WHATEVER, therefore, is forced, or af- 
 fected in the fentiments : whatever is pom- 
 pous or pedantic in the expreffion, is the very 
 reverfe of grace. Her mien is neither that 
 of a prude nor a coquet; fhe is regular 
 without formality, andfprightly without be- 
 ing fantaftical. Grace, in fhort, is to good 
 writing what a proper light is to a fine pic- 
 ture j it not only fhews all the figures in 
 their feveral proportions and relations, but 
 fhews them in the moft advantageous man- 
 ner. 
 
 As gentility (to refume my former illuf- 
 tration) appears in the minuteft action, and 
 improves the moft inconfiderable gefturej 
 fo grace is difcovered in the placing even 
 of a fingle word, or the turn of a mere 
 expletive. Neither is this inexpreffible qua- 
 lity confined to one fpecies of compofition 
 only, but extends to all the various kinds ; 
 to the humble paftoral as well as to the 
 
 lofty
 
 LETTER XXIX. 137 
 
 lofty Epic ; from the flighted letter to the 
 moft folemn difcourfe. 
 
 I KNOW not whether Sir William Tem- 
 ple may not be confidered as the firft of our 
 profe authors, who introduced a graceful 
 manner into our language : at lead that 
 quality does not feem to have appeared ear- 
 ly, or fpread far, amongft us. But where- 
 foever we may look for its origin, it is cer- 
 tainly to be found in its higheft perfection 
 in the eflays of a gentleman, whofe writings 
 will be diftinguimed fo long as politenefs 
 and good-fenfe have any admirers. That 
 becoming air which Tully efteemed the 
 criterion of fine compofition, and which 
 every reader, he fays, imagines fo eafy to be 
 imitated, yet will find fo difficult to attain ; 
 is the prevailing characterise of all that ex- 
 cellent author's moft elegant performances. 
 In a word, one may juftly apply to him what 
 Plato, in his allegorical language, fays of 
 Ariftophanes; that the Graces having 
 fearched all the world round for a temple 
 wherein they might for ever dwell, fettled 
 at laft in the breaft of Mr. Addifon. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 138 ] 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 70 CLYTANDER. 
 
 CAN it then be true, Clytander, after all 
 the fine things which have been faid 
 concerning the love of our Country, that it 
 owes its rife to the principles you mention, 
 and was originally propagated among man- 
 kind, in order to cheat them into the fervice 
 of the community ? And is it thus, at laft, 
 that the moft generous of the human pafli- 
 ons, inftead of bearing the facred fignature 
 of nature, can produce no higher marks of 
 its legitimacy than the fufpicious imprefs of 
 art ? The Qaeftion is worth, at leaft, a 
 few thoughts j and I will juft run over the 
 principal objections in your letter, without 
 drawing them up, however, in a regular 
 form. 
 
 THAT the true happinefs of the indivi- 
 dual cannot arife from the fingle exercife 
 of the mere felfifti principles, is evident, I 
 think, above all reafonable contradi&ien. 
 If a man would thoroughly enjoy his own 
 being, he muft of neceffity look beyond it j 
 his private fatisfactions always encreafbg in 
 
 the
 
 LETTER XXX. 139 
 
 the fame proportion with which he pro- 
 motes thofe of others. Thus felf-intereft, 
 if rightly directed, flows thro' the nearer 
 charities of relations, friends, and depend- 
 ents, till it rifes and dilates itfelf into gene- 
 ral benevolence. But if every addition 
 which we make to the welfare of others, 
 be really an advancement of our own ; the 
 love of our country muft necefTarily, upon 
 a principle of felf-intereft, be a paffion 
 founded in the ftricteft reafon ; becaufe it is 
 a difpofition pregnant with the greateft po- 
 fible good, which the limited powers of man 
 are capable of producing. Benevolence, 
 therefore, points to our country, as to her 
 only adequate mark : whatever falls fhort 
 of that glorious end, is too fmall for her'full 
 gratification; and all beyond is too immenfe 
 for her grafp. 
 
 THUS our country appears to have a 
 claim to our affection, as it has a correfpon- 
 dent paffion in the human breaft : a paf- 
 |ion, not raifed by the artifices of policy, 
 or propagated by the infection of enthu- 
 fiafm, but necefTarily refulting from the ori- 
 ginal conftitution of our fpecies, and con- 
 fiucive to the higheft private advantage of 
 
 each
 
 140 LETTER XXX. 
 
 each individual. When Curtius, therefore, 
 or the two Decii, facrificed their lives, in 
 order to refcue their community from the 
 calamities with which it was threatened j 
 they were by no means impelled (as yoa 
 feemed to reprefent them) by a political 
 phrenzy, but acted on the moft folid and 
 rational principles. The method they pur- 
 fued for that purpofe was dictated, I confefs, 
 by the moft abfurd and groundlefs fuperfti- 
 tion : yet while the impreflion of that na- 
 tional belief remained ftrong upon their 
 minds, and they were thoroughly perfuaded, 
 that falling in the manner we are aflured 
 they did, was the only effectual means of 
 preferving their country from ruin ; they 
 took the moft rational meafures of eonfuit- 
 ing their private happinefs, by thus confent- 
 ing to become the public victims. Could 
 it even be admitted (what, with any degree 
 of probability, never, indeed, can be ad- 
 mitted) that thefe glorious heroes confi- 
 dered fame as the vaineft of fhadows, and 
 had no hopes of an after-life in any other 
 fcene of exiftence ; ftill however their con- 
 duct might be juftified as perfectly wife.. 
 For, furely, to a mind that was not wholly 
 
 immerfed
 
 LETTER XXX. i 4 . 
 
 immerfed in the loweft dregs of the moft 
 contracted felfifhnefs ; that had not totally 
 extinguifhed every generous and focial af- 
 fection ; the thoughts of having preferred a 
 mere joy lefsexiftence (for fuch it mufthave 
 been) to the fuppofed prefer vation of num- 
 bers of oae's fellow creatures, muft have 
 proved far more painful than a thoufand 
 deaths. 
 
 I CANNOT, however, but agree with 
 you, that this affection was productive of 
 infinite mifchief to mankind, as it broke 
 out among the Romans, in the impious 
 fpirit of their unjuftconquefts. But itfhould 
 be remembred, at the fame time, that it 
 is the ufual artifice of ambition, to mafk 
 herfelf in the femblance of patriotifm. And 
 it can be no juft objection to the nobleft of 
 the focial paflions, that it is capable of be- 
 ing inflamed beyond its natural heat, and 
 turned, by the arts of policy, to promote 
 thofe deftructive purpofes, which it was 
 originally implanted to prevent. 
 
 THIS zeal for our country may, indeed, 
 become irrational, not only when it thus 
 pufhes us on to ad counter to the natural 
 rights of any other community ; but like- 
 
 wife
 
 142 LETTER XXX. 
 
 wife when it impels us to take the mea- 
 fures of violence in oppofition to the gene- 
 ral fenfe of our own. For may not pub- 
 lic happinefs be eftimated by the fame 
 ftandard as that of private ? and as every 
 man's own opinion muft determine his par-* 
 ticular fatis faction ; fhall not the general 
 opinion be confidered as decifive in the 
 queftion concerning general intereft? Far 
 am I, however, from insinuating, that the 
 true welfare of mankind in their collective 
 capacities depends fmgly upon a prevailing 
 fancy, any more than it does in their fepa- 
 rate : undoubtedly in both inftances they 
 may equally embrace a falfe intereft. But 
 whenever this is the cafe, I mould hardly 
 imagine that the love of our country, on the 
 one hand, or of our neighbor, on the other, 
 would juftify any methods of bringing them 
 to a wifer choice, than thofe of calm and 
 rational perfuafion. 
 
 I CANNOT at prefent recollect which of 
 the antient authors it is, that mentions the 
 Cappadocians to have been fo enamored of 
 fubjection to a defpotic power, as to refufe 
 the enjoyment of their liberties, tho' gene- 
 roufly tendered to them by the Romans. 
 
 Scarcely,
 
 LETTER XXX. 143 
 
 Scarcely, I fuppofe, can there be an inftance 
 produced of a more remarkable depravity 
 of national tafte, and of a more falfe calcu- 
 lation of public welfare : yet even in this 
 inftance it mould feem the higheft injuftice 
 to have attempted by force, and at the ex- 
 pence, perhaps, of half the lives in the 
 ftate, the introduction of a more improved 
 fyftem of government. 
 
 IN this notion I am not fingular, but 
 have the authority of Plato himfelf on my 
 fide ; who held it as a maxim of undoubted 
 truth in politics, that the prevailing fenti- 
 ments of a flate, how much foever mif- 
 taken, ought by no means to be oppofed by 
 the meafures of violence : a maxim, which 
 if certain pretended or mifguided patriots 
 had happily embraced, much effufion of 
 civil blood had been lately fpared to our 
 nation. I am, &c. 
 
 L E T T E r R
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 TV P A L AM E D ES. 
 
 dawn is overcaft, the morning lours, 
 And heavily with clouds brings on the day , 
 How then can I better difappoint the 
 gloomy effects of a louring sky, than by 
 calling my thoughts off from the dull fcene 
 before me, and placing them upon my 
 friend ? Much, certainly, are we indebted 
 to that happy faculty, by which, with a fort 
 of magic power, we can bring before one's 
 mind whatever has been the fubject of its 
 moft agreeable contemplation. In vain, 
 therefore, would that lovely dame, who 
 has fo often been the topic of our converfa- 
 tions, pretend to enjoy you to herfelf : in 
 fpite of your favorite philofophy, or even 
 of a more powerful divinity ; in fpight of 
 Fortune herfelf, I can place you in my view, 
 tho' half a century of miles lies between us. 
 But am I for ever to be indebted to imagi- 
 nation only for your company ? and will you 
 not fometimes let me owe that fatisfadiion 
 to yourfelf? Surely you might fpare me a 
 
 few
 
 L E t *f E & XXXII. 145 
 
 few weeks before the fummer ends, with- 
 out any inconvenience to that noble plan up- 
 on which I know you are fo intent. As 
 for my own ftudies, they go on but flowly : 
 I am, like a traveller without a guide in an 
 unknown country; obliged to inquire the 
 Way at every turningj and confequently 
 cannot advance with all the expedition I 
 could wifh. I am, &c< 
 
 LETTER XXXIL 
 
 <T0 the fame. 
 
 FORGIVE me, Palamfccles, if I mif- 
 truft an art, which the greateft of 
 philofophers has called the art of deceiving, 
 and by which the firft of orators could per- 
 fuade the people that he had conquered at 
 the athletic games, tho' they faw him fall 
 at his adverfary's feet. The voice of Elo- 
 quence mould ever* indeed, be heard with 
 caution : and me, whofe boaft it has former- 
 ly been, to make little things appear con- 
 fiderable^ may diminifh objects, perhaps, 
 L as
 
 i 4 6 LETTER XXXfi. 
 
 as well as enlarge them, and lefTen even 
 the charms of repofe. But I have too long 
 experienced the joys of retirement, ta 
 quit her arms for a more lively miftrefs ; 
 and I can look upon ambition, tho' adorned 
 in all the ornaments of your oratory, with 
 the cool indifference of the moft confirmed 
 $toic. To confefs the whole truth, I am 
 too proud to endure a repulfe, and too 
 humble to hope for fuccefs : qualities little 
 favorable, I imagine, to the pretenfions of 
 him who would claim the glittering prizes, 
 which animate thofe that run the race of 
 ambition. Let thofe honors then, you 
 mention, be infcribed on the tombs of 
 others ; be it rather told on mine, that I 
 lived and died 
 
 Unplacd, unpenfiorfd, no man's heir orj/ave. 
 
 And is not this a privilege as valuable as 
 any of thofe which you have painted to 
 my view, in all the warmeft colors of your 
 enlivening eloquence ? Bruyere, atleaft,has 
 juft now affured me, that cc to pay one's 
 " court to no man, nor expect any to 
 <c pay court to you, is the moft agreeable 
 " of all fituations 5 it is the true golden 
 
 " aae,
 
 L E T t E k XXXII. 147 
 
 *' age, fays he> and the moil natural ftate 
 " of man." 
 
 BELIEVE me, however, I am not in the 
 miftake of thofe whom you juftly condemn^ 
 as imagining that wifdom is the companion! 
 Only of retirement, and that virtue enters 
 not the more open and confpicuous walks of 
 life : but I will confefs at the fame time, 
 that tho' it is to Tully I give my applaufe* 
 it is Atticus that has my affection. 
 
 " LIFE, fays a celebrated antient, maybe' 
 u compared to the Olympic games : fomc 
 " enter into thofe affemblies for glory, and 
 <c others for gain 5 while there is a third 
 ec party (and thofe by no means the moft 
 " contemptible) who choofe to be merely 
 " fpettators." I need not tell you, Pala- 
 medes, how early it was my inclination to 
 be numbered with the laft : and as nature 
 has not formed me with powers, am I not 
 Obliged to her for having diverted me of 
 every inclination, for bearing a part in the 
 ambitious contentions of the world ? Pro- 
 vidence, indeed, feems tohavedefignedfome 
 tempers for the obfcure fcenes of life ; ae 
 there are fome plants which flourifh bed in 
 the fhade. But the loweft fhrub has its 
 L a ufe,
 
 148 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 life, you are fenfible, as well as the loftieft 
 oak : and, perhaps, your friend may fiird 
 fome method of convincing you, that even 
 the humbleft talents are not given in vain. 
 Farewel. 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 P A L E M O N. 
 
 May 28, 1748. 
 
 IS it poffible you can thus defcend from 
 the higheft concerns to the loweft, 
 and, after deliberating upon the affairs of 
 Europe, have the humility to inquire into 
 mine ? But the greateft ftatefmen, it feems, 
 have their trifling as well as their ferious 
 hours ' r I have read of a Roman conful 
 that amufed himfelf with gathering cockle- 
 fhells, and of a Spartan monarch who was 
 found riding upon a hobby- horfe. Or mail 
 I rather fay, that friendship gilds every ob*- 
 jec~t upon which me mines ? I am fure at 
 leaft, it is the fingular character of Palemon 
 to preferve that generous flame in all its 
 ftrength aod luftre airjidft that ambitious 
 
 atmofphere >
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 149 
 
 stmofphere, which is generally efteemed 
 fo unfavorable to every brighter affection. 
 
 IT is upon one or other of thofe prin- 
 ciples alone, that you can be willing to fuf- 
 pend your own more important engage- 
 ments, by attending to an account of mine. 
 They have lately, indeed, been more di^ 
 verfified than ufual ; and I have pafled thefe 
 three months in a continual fucceffion of new 
 fcenes. The moft agreeable, as well as the 
 fartheft part of my progrefs, was to the feat 
 of Hortenfius : and I am perfuaded you 
 will not think my travels have been in vain, 
 fince they afford me an opportunity of in- 
 forming you, that our friend is in pofleffioa 
 of all that happinefs which I am fure you 
 wifh him. It is probable, however, you 
 have not yet heard that he owes the chief 
 part of it to female merit j for his marriage 
 was concluded even before thofe friends, 
 who are moft frequently with him, had the 
 leaft fufpicion of his intentions. But tho' he 
 had fome reafons for concealing his defigns, 
 he has none for being amamed of them 
 now they are executed. I fay not this from 
 any hafty approbation, but as having long 
 known and efteemed the lady whom he has 
 L 3 chofen ;
 
 I5Q LETTER XXXIIL 
 
 chofen : and as there is a pleafure in bring* 
 jng two perfons of merit to the kndwledge 
 of each other, will you allow me, in the 
 remainder of this letter, to introduce her 
 to your acquaintance ? 
 
 HORTENSIA is of a good ftatnre, and 
 perfectly well proportioned ; but one cannot 
 fo properly fay her air is genteel, as that it 
 is pleating : for there is a certain unaffected 
 carelefsnefs in her drefs and mien, that wins 
 by degrees rather than ftrikes at firfl fight, 
 Jf you were to look no farther than the up- 
 per part of her face, you would think her 
 handfome ; were you only to examine the 
 lower, you would immediately pronounce 
 the reverfe? yet there is fomething in her 
 eyes, which, without any pretence to be 
 called fine, gives fuch an agreeable livelinefs 
 to her whole countenance, that you fcarce 
 obferve ? or foon forget, all her features are 
 not regular. Her converfation is rather 
 chearful than gay, and more innructive than 
 fprightly. But the principal and mofr. di- 
 ftinguimed faculties cf her mind are her 
 memory and her judgment, both which 
 flie poffeiTes in a far higher degree than one 
 ufually finds even in perfons of our fex. She 
 
 has
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 151 
 
 has read moft of the capital authors both in 
 French and Englim ; but her chief and fa- 
 vorite companions of that kind have lain 
 among the hiftorical and dramatic writers. 
 There is hardly a remarkable event in an- 
 tient or modern ftory, of which {he cannot 
 give a very clear and judicious account j as 
 {he is equally well verfed in all the princi- 
 pal characters and incidents of the moft 
 approved jftage-compofitions. The mathe- 
 matics is not wholly a ftranger to her : 
 and tho' me did not think proper to purfue 
 her enquiries of that kind, to any great 
 length ; yet the very uncommon facility 
 with which (he entered into the reafonings 
 of that fcience, plainly difcovered {he was 
 capable of attaining a thorough knowledge 
 of all its moft abftrufe branches. Her tafte 
 in performances of polite literature is always 
 jufi ; and {he is an excellent critic, with- 
 out knowing any thing of the artificial 
 rules of that fcience. Her obfervations, 
 therefore, upon fubjecls of that fort, are fo 
 much the more to be relied upon, as they 
 are the pure aud unbiaiTed dictates of nature 
 and good-fenfe. Accordingly Hortenfius, 
 in the feveral pieces, which, you know, he 
 L 4 has
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 }ias published, conftantly had recourfe t$ 
 her judgment j and I have often heard him 
 upon thofe occafions apply, with fmgular 
 pleafure, and with equal truth, what the 
 tender Propertjus fays of his favorite Cyn- 
 thia : 
 
 Mejuvaf in gremio dofta legiffe puellte, 
 Auribus et puris fcripta probaffe mea : 
 
 Ilcec ubi contigerinty populi confufa vakto 
 Fabula; nam^ domina judice, tutus ero. 
 
 BPT her uncommon ftrength of under^ 
 {landing has prefcrved her from that fatal 
 roek of all female knowledge, the imperti- 
 nent oftentation of it : and me thinks a re- 
 ferve in this article an eflential part of that 
 rnodefty which is the ornament of her fex. 
 I have heard her obferve, that it is not in 
 the acquired endowments of the female 
 mind, as in the beauties of her perfon, 
 where it may be fufljcient praife, perhaps, 
 to follow the example of the virgin de- 
 fcribed by TaiTo, who, 
 
 Non coprefue bellezze, e non I'efpofe. 
 
 On the contrary ilie efteems it a point of 
 Decency to throw a veil over the fuperiac 
 
 charms
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 153 
 
 Charms of her underftanding : and if ever 
 {he draws it afide, you plainly perceive it is 
 rather to gratify her good-nature than her 
 vanity; lefs in compliance with her own in- 
 clinations than with thofe of her company. 
 
 HER refined fenfe and extenfive know- 
 ledge, have not, however, raifed her above 
 the more neceffary acquifitions of female 
 fcience ; they have only taught her to fill 
 that part of her character with higher grace 
 and dignity. She enters into all the domeftic 
 duties of her ftation, with the moft confum- 
 mate fkill and prudence. Her ceconomical 
 deportment is calm and {teddy ; and {he 
 prefides over her family like the Intelli- 
 gence of fome planetary orb, conducting it 
 in all its proper directions without violence 
 or difturbed efforts. 
 
 THESE qualities, however confiderable 
 they might appear in a lefs {hining charac^ 
 ter, are but under parts in Hortenfia's : for 
 it is from the virtues of her heart that {he 
 derives her moft irrefiftible claim to efteem 
 and approbation. A conftant flow of uni- 
 form and unaffected chearfulnefs gladdens 
 her own breaft, and enlivens that of every 
 Creature around her. Her behavior under 
 
 the
 
 154 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 the injuries me has received (for injuries 
 even the blamelefs Hortenfia has received) 
 was with all the calm fortitude of the 
 moft heroic patience ; as (he firmly relied, 
 that Providence would either put an end 
 to her misfortunes, or fupport her under 
 them. And with that animating hope {he 
 feemed to feel lefs for herfelf, than for the 
 unjuft and inhuman author of her fufferings; 
 generoufly lamenting to fee one, fo nearly 
 related to her, ftand condemned by that 
 fevered and moft fignificant of fcntences, 
 the united reproaches of the world and of 
 his confcience. 
 
 THUS, Palemon, I have given you a 
 faithful copy of an excellent original : but 
 whether you will join with me in thinking 
 my pencil has been true to its fubjecl, muft 
 be left to fome future opportunity to deter- 
 mine. J am, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 155 ] 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 'To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 Dec. 10, 1730. 
 
 I HAVE read over the treatife you recom- 
 mended to me, with attention and con- 
 cern. I was forry to find an author, who 
 feems fo well qualified to ferve the caufe of 
 truth, employing his talents in favor of 
 what appears to me a moft dangerous error. 
 J have often wondered, indeed, at the po- 
 licy of certain philofophers of this caft, who 
 endeavor to advance religion by depreciating 
 human nature. Methinks it would bs 
 inore for the intereft of virtue, to reprefent 
 her congenial (as congenial (he furely is) 
 \vith our make, and agreeable to our un- 
 tainted constitution of foul ; to prove that 
 every deviation from moral rectitude is an 
 oppofition to our native biafs, and contrary 
 to thcfc characters of dignity which the 
 Creator bus univerfally imprefied upon the 
 mind. This, at leaft, was the principle 
 which many of the antient philofophers la- 
 bored to inculcate ; as there is not, perhaps, 
 any tingle topic in ethics that might be urged 
 syith more truth or greater efficacy. 
 
 IT
 
 $56 LETTER XXXIV, 
 
 IT is upon this generous and exalted no- 
 tion of our fpecies, that one of the nobleft 
 preeepts of the excellent Pythagoras is 
 founded : Uavtuv g ^oTura (fays that 
 philofopher) cti^yno a auror. The firft and 
 leading difpofition to engage us on the fide 
 of virtue was, in that fage's eftimation, to 
 preferve above all things a conftant reve- 
 rence to our own mind, and to dread no- 
 thing fo much as to offend againft its native 
 dignity. The ingenious Mr. Norris, I re- 
 member, recommends this precept as one of 
 the beft, perhaps, that was ever given to the 
 world. May not one then juftly be fur- 
 prized to find it fo feldom enforced in our 
 modern fyftems of morality ? To confefs 
 the truth, I am ftrongly inclined to fufpect, 
 that much of that general contempt of 
 every manly principle, which fo remarkably 
 diftinguifhes the prefent times, may fairly 
 be attributed to the humor of difcarding 
 this animating notion of our kind. It has 
 been the fafhion to paint human nature in 
 the hardieft and moft unpleafing colors. 
 Yet there is not, furely, any argument more 
 likely to induce a man to ac~l unworthily, 
 jhan to perfuade him that he has nothing 
 
 of
 
 LETTER XXXV. 157 
 
 of innate worthinefs in his genuine difpo- 
 iition; than to reafon him out of every 
 elevated notion of his own grandeur of foul; 
 and to deftroy, in fliort, every motive that 
 might juftly infpire him with a principle of 
 felf-reverence j that fureft internal guard 
 Heaven feems to have affigned to the hu- 
 man virtues. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 70 CLEORA. 
 
 THO' it was not poffible for me to ce- 
 lebrate with you, as ufual, that happy 
 anniverfary which we have fo many reafons 
 to commemorate ; yet I could not fuffer fb 
 joyful a feftival to pafs by me without a 
 thoufand tender reflections. I took pleafure 
 in tracing back that ftream to its rife, which 
 has colored all my fucceeding days with 
 happinefs j as my Cleora, perhaps, was at 
 that very inftant, running over in her own 
 mind, thofe many moments of calm fatif- 
 fadion which fhe has derived from the 
 fame fource, 
 
 MY
 
 1 5 8 LETTER XXXV; 
 
 MY heart was fo entirely poffeffed with 
 the fentiments which this occafion fuggeft- 
 ed, that I found myfelf raifed into a fort of 
 poetical enthufiafm ; and I could not for- 
 bear expreffing in verfe, what I have often 
 faid in profe of the dear author of my mofl 
 valuable enjoyments. As I imagined Te- 
 raminta would by this time be with you, 
 I had a view to her harpficord in the com- 
 pofition j and I defire you would let her 
 know I hope fhe will fhew me, at my re- 
 turn, to what advantage the moft ordinary 
 numbers will appear, when judicioufly ac- 
 companied with a fine voice and inftru- 
 ment. 
 
 I MUST not forget to tell you* it was iri 
 your favorite grove, which we have fo often 
 traverfed together, that I indulged myfelf 
 in thefe pleafing reveries j as it was not^ 
 you are to fuppofe, without having firft in- 
 voked the Genius of the place, and called 
 upon the Mufes in due form, that I brofce 
 out in the following rhapfody. 
 
 ODE
 
 LETTER XXXV. 159 
 ODE for Music. 
 AIR I. 
 
 tfhrice has tie circling earth, fivift pacing, run, 
 
 And thrice again, around the fun, 
 Since firft the white-rob'dprieft, with facr edit and, 
 
 Sweet union ! joined us hand in hand. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Al(beav'n, and ev'ry friendly pow'r 
 Approved the vow, and blefs'd the hour* 
 
 RE C ITAT I VE. 
 
 What tho* infilencefacred Hymen trod, 
 
 Nor lyre proclaim' d, nor garland crown* d the god 3 
 
 IVbat tho* nor feaji nor revel dance was therf> 
 
 (Fain pomp of joy the happy well may fpare !) 
 
 Tet love unfeigned, and confcious honor led 
 
 fhe fpotlefs virgin to the bridal bed: 
 
 Rich tho* defpoil'd of all her little Jlore ; 
 
 For whojhatt faztfair virtue's better dow'r? 
 
 AIR II. 
 
 Bleft with fenfe, with temper bleft, 
 
 Wifdom o'er thy lips prefides ; 
 Virtue guards thy generous breafl, 
 
 Kindnefs all ity atHom guides.
 
 160 LETTER XXXV, 
 A i R III. 
 
 Ev'ry borne-felt blifs is mine, 
 Ev'ry matron-grace is thine ; 
 Cbafte deportment^ artlefs mien, 
 Converfefweet, and heart ferene. 
 
 Sinks my foul with gloomy pain ? 
 See, ffoefmiles! 'tis joy again : 
 Swells a pajjion in my breaft ? 
 Hark,Jhefpeaks! and all is reft. 
 
 Oft as clouds my paths o'erfpread 
 (Doubtful where my Jlepsjhould tread) 
 She, with judgment** Jieddy ray, 
 Marks, andfmooths, the better way. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Chief amongft ten thoufandjhe^ 
 Worthy, f acred Hymen! thee* 
 
 WHILE fuch are the fentiments which' 
 I entertain of my Cleora, can I find myfelf 
 obliged to be thus diftant from her, with- 
 out the higheft regret ? The truth, believe 
 me, is, tho' both the company and the fcene 
 wherein I am engaged, are extremely agree- 
 able, yet I find a vacancy in my happinefs, 
 which none but you can fill up. Siirely 
 thofe who have recommended thefe little 
 
 fepa-
 
 LETTER XXXV. 161 
 
 reparations as neceflary to revive the languor 
 of the married ftate, have ill underftood its 
 moft refined gratifications : there is no fa- 
 tiety in the mutual exchange of tender of- 
 fices. 
 
 THERE feems to have been a time, when 
 a happinefs of this kind was confidered as 
 the higheft glory, as well as the fupreme 
 bleffing of human life. Several conjugal in- 
 fcriptions upon the fepulchral monuments 
 of antient Rome are ftill extant ; which, 
 inftead of running out into a pompous pa- 
 negyric upon the virtues of the deceafed, 
 mention fingly, as the moft fignificant of 
 encomiums, how many years the parties 
 lived together in full and uninterrupted 
 harmony. The Romans, indeed, in" this, as 
 in many other inftances, afford the moft re- 
 markable examples; and it is an obfervation 
 of one of their writers, that, notwithftand- 
 ing divorces might very eafily be obtained 
 among them, their republic had fubfifted 
 many centuries before there was a fingle 
 inftance of that privilege ever having been 
 exerted. Thus, my Cleora, you fee, how- 
 ever unfamionable I may appear in the pre- 
 fent generation, I might have been kept in 
 M counte-
 
 162 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 countenance in a former; and by thofe 
 too, who had as much true gallantry and 
 good-fenfe as one ufually meets with in 
 this. But affections which are founded in 
 truth and nature (land not in need of any 
 precedent to fupport them 3 and I efteem 
 it my honor no lefs than my happinefs, 
 that I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 70 CLYTANDER. 
 
 DI D you imagine I was really in earned: 
 when I talked of quitting *** and 
 withdrawing from thofe gilded profpedts 
 which ambition had once fo ftrongly fet in 
 my view ? But my vows, you fee, are not 
 in the number of thofe which are made to 
 be broken : for the retreat I had long me- 
 ditated, is now, at laft, happily executed. 
 To fay truth, my friend, the longer I lived 
 in the high fcenes of action, the more I 
 was convinced that nature had not form- 
 ed me for bearing a part in them : and 
 tho' I was once fo unexperienced in the 
 
 ways
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 163 
 
 ways of the world as to believe I had ta- 
 lents, as I was fure I had inclination, to 
 ferve my country, yet every day's conver- 
 fation contributed to wean me by degrees 
 from that flattering dclufion. 
 
 How indeed could a man hope to ren- 
 der himfelf acceptable to the various parties 
 which divide our nation, who profefTes it 
 as his principle, that there is no ftriking 
 wholly into the meafures of any, without 
 renouncing either one's fenfe or one's inte- 
 grity ? and yet, as the world is at prefent 
 conftituted, 'it is fcarce poffible, I fear, to 
 do any good in one's generation (in public 
 life I mean) without lifting under fome or 
 other of thofe various banners, which di- 
 flinguim the feveral corps in thefe our poli- 
 tical warfares. To thofe, therefore, who 
 may have curiofity enough to enter into my 
 concerns, and afk a reafon for my quitting 
 the town, I anfwer, in the words of the 
 hiftorian, Civitatis morum tadet pigetque. 
 But I am wandering from the purpofe 
 of my letter, which was not fo much to 
 juftify my retreat, as to incline you to fol- 
 low me into it : to follow me, I mean, as 
 a vifitor only ; for I love my country too 
 M 2 well
 
 164 LETTER XXXtl. 
 
 well to call you off from thofe great fer- 
 vices you are capable of doing her. 
 
 I HAVE pitched my tent upon a fpot 
 which I am perfuaded will not difpleafe 
 you. My villa (if you will allow me to 
 call by that fine name, what, in truth, is no 
 better than a neat farm-houfe) is fituated 
 upon a gentle rife, which commands a fhort, 
 tho* agreeable view of about three miles in 
 circumference. This is bounded on the 
 north by a ridge of hills, which afford me 
 at once both a fecure melter and a beauti- 
 ful profpect ; for they are as well cultivated 
 as the moft fertile vallies. In the front 
 of my houfe, which ftands fouth-eaft, I 
 have a view of the river that runs, at the 
 diftance of fomewhat lefs than a quarter of 
 a mile, at the end of my grounds j and after 
 making feveral windings and returns, feems 
 to lofe itfelf at the foot of thofe hills I juft 
 now mentioned. As for my garden, lam 
 obliged to nature for its chief beauties ; hav- 
 ing no other (except a fmall fpot which I 
 have allotted for the purpofes of my table) 
 bur what the fields and meadows afford. 
 Thefe, however, I have embellimed with 
 fome care, having intermixed among the 
 
 hedges
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 165 
 
 hedges all the feveral forts of flowering 
 fhrubs. 
 
 BUT I muft not forget to mention what 
 I look upon to be the principal ornament 
 of the place ; as indeed I do not recollect 
 to have feen any thing of the kind in our 
 Englifh plantations. I have covered a fmall 
 fpot with different forts of ever-greens, 
 many of which are of a fpecies not very 
 ufual in our country. T'his little plantation 
 I have branched out jnto various labyrinth- 
 walks, which are all terminated by a fmali 
 temple in the centre. I have a double advan- 
 tage from this artificial wood : for it not only 
 affords me a very fhady retreat in fummer, 
 but, as it is fituated oppofite to my library, 
 fupplies me in winter with a perfpedtive of 
 the moft agreeable verdure imaginable. 
 
 WHAT heightens the relifh of this re- 
 tirement, is the company of my Cleora ; 
 as indeed many of the beft improvements 
 I have made in it, are owing to hints which 
 I have received from her exquifite tafte and 
 judgment. She will rejoice to receive you 
 as her gueft here j and has given it me in 
 charge to remind you, that you have pro- 
 miied to be fo. As the bufmefs of parlia- 
 M 3 ment
 
 166 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 ment is now drawing to a conclufion, I may 
 urge this to you without any imputation 
 upon my patriotifmj tho' at the fame time 
 I muft add, I make a very confiderable fa- 
 crifice of private intereft whenever I refign 
 you for the fake of the public. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 70 HoRfENSIUS. 
 
 ARE you aware, Hortenfius, how far I 
 may miflead you, when you are will- 
 ing to refign yourfelf to my guidance, thro 1 
 the regions of criticifm ? Remember, how- 
 ever, that I take the lead in thefe paths, not 
 in confidence of my own fuperior knowledge 
 of them, but in compliance with a requefr, 
 which I never yet knew how to refufe. In 
 fhort, Hortenfius, I give you my fentiments, 
 becaufe it is my fentiments you require: but 
 I give them at the fame time rather as 
 doubts than decifions. 
 
 AFTER having thus acknowledged my 
 infufficiency for the office you have afiigned 
 me, I will venture to confefs that the poet 
 
 who
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 167 
 
 who has gain'd over your approbation, has 
 been far lefs fuccefsful with mine. I have 
 ever thought, with a very celebrated modern 
 writer, that 
 
 Le vers le mieux rempli, la plus noble penfg 
 Ne pent plaire a I'efprit, quand Yoreille eft 
 bleffee. BOILEAU. 
 
 Thus, tho' I admit there is both wit in the 
 raillery, and ftrength in the fentiments of 
 your friend's moral epiftle, it by no means 
 falls in with thofe notions I have formed to 
 myfelf, concerning the efTential requifites 
 in compofitions of this kind. He feems, 
 indeed, to have widely deviated from the 
 model he profefles to have had in view, 
 and is no more like Horace, than Hyperion 
 to a Satyr. His deficiency in point of ver- 
 fification, not to mention his want of ele- 
 gance in the general manner of his poem, 
 is fufficient to deflroy the pretended refem- 
 blance. Nothing, in truth, can be more 
 abfurd, than to write in poetical meafure, 
 and yet negleft harmony; as of all the 
 kinds of falfe ftyle, that which is neither 
 profe nor verfe, but I know not what in- 
 artificial combination of powerlefs words 
 M 4 bordered
 
 i68 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 bordered with rhyme, is far, furely, the 
 moft infufferable. 
 
 BUT you are of opinion, I perceive (and 
 it is an opinion in which you are not fingu- 
 lar) that a negligence of this kind may be 
 juftified by the authority of the Roman fa- 
 drift : yet furely thofe who entertain that 
 notion, have not thoroughly attended either 
 to the precepts or the practice of Horace. 
 He has attributed, I confefs, his fatirical 
 composition to the infpiration of a certain 
 Mufe, whom he diftinguifhes by the title 
 of the Mufa pedeftris : and it is this expref- 
 iion which feems to have milled the gene- 
 rality of his imitators. But tho' he will 
 not allow her to fly, he by no means intends 
 fhe mould creep : on the contrary, it may 
 be faid of the Mufe of Horace, as of the 
 Eve of Milton, that 
 
 grace is m all her fleps. 
 
 That this was the idea which Horace him- 
 felf had of her, is evident, not only from 
 the general air which prevails in his fatires 
 and epiftles, but from feveral exprefs declara- 
 tions, which he lets fall in his progrefs thro' 
 them. Even when he fpcaks of her in his 
 
 greateft
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 169 
 
 greateft fits of modefty, and defcribes her 
 as exhibited in his own moral writings, he 
 particularly infifts upon the eafe and har- 
 mony of her motions. Tho' he humbly dif- 
 claims, indeed, all pretenfions to the higher 
 poetry, the acer fpiritus et vis y as he calls it; 
 he reprefents his ftyle as being governed by 
 the tempora certa modofque> as flowing with a 
 certain regular and agreeable cadence. Ac- 
 cordingly we find him particularly condem- 
 ning his predeceflbr Lucilius for the diflb- 
 nance of his numbers ; and he profefTes to 
 have made the experiment, whether the 
 fame kind of moral fubjeds might not be, 
 
 treated in more foft and eafy meafures : 
 
 1 
 
 Quid vet at et nofmet Lucili fcripta legentes^ 
 Queer ere num tfffus, num. rerum dura negarit 
 Verficulos natura magisfaftos et euntes 
 Mollius ? 
 
 The truth is, a tuneful cadence is the fingle 
 prerogative of poetry which he pretends to 
 claim to his writings of this kind : and fo 
 far is he from thinking it uneflential, that 
 he acknowledged ic as the only feparation 
 which diftinguimes them from profe. If 
 that were once to be broken down, and 
 
 the
 
 1 70 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 the mufical order of his words deftroyed, 
 there would not, he tells us, be the leaft ap- 
 pearance of poetry remaining : 
 
 Non 
 
 Invenias etiam disjefti membra poeta. 
 
 However, when he delivers himfelf in this 
 humble ftrain, he is not, you will obferve, 
 Sketching out a plan of this fpecies of poe- 
 try in general ; but fpeaking merely of his 
 own performances in particular. His de- 
 mands rife much higher, when he informs 
 us what he expects of thofe, who would 
 fucceed in compofitions of this moral kind. 
 He then not only requires flowing numbers, 
 but an expreffion concife and unincumber- 
 ed ; wit exerted with good-breeding, and 
 managed with referve j as upon fome occa- 
 fions the fentiments may be enforced with 
 all the ftrength of eloquence and poetry : 
 and tho' in particular parts the piece may 
 appear with a more ierious and folemn caft 
 of coloring, yet upon the whole he tells us, 
 it muft be lively and riant. This I take to 
 be his meaning in the following paflage:
 
 LETTER XXXVII. i 7 j 
 
 Eft brevitate opus, ut currat fententta, neufe 
 Impediat verbis laffas onerantibus aures ; 
 JLtfermone opus eft mo do trifti y fapejocofo t 
 Defendente vicem modo rhetor is atque poetct $ 
 Inter dum urbani, parcenth viribus atque 
 Extenuafitis eas confulto. 
 
 Such, then, was the notion which Herace 
 had of this kind of writing. And if there 
 is any propriety in thefe his rules, if they 
 are founded on the truth of tafte and art ; I 
 fear the performance in queftion, with num- 
 berlefs others of the fame ftamp (which 
 have not however wanted admirers) mud 
 inevitably ftand condemned. The truth of 
 it is, mofl of the pieces which are ufually 
 produced upon this plaj, rather give one 
 an image of Lucilius, than of Horace : the 
 authors of them feem to miftakc the auk- 
 ward negligence of the favorite of Scipio, 
 for the eafy air of the friend of Mxcenas. 
 
 You will ftill tell me, perhaps, that the 
 example of Horace himfelf is an unanfwer- 
 able objection to the notion I have embra- 
 ced; as there are numberlefs lines in his 
 latires and epiftles, where the verification 
 is evidently neglected, But are you fure, 
 
 Hortenftus,
 
 1 72 LETTER XXXVII, 
 
 Hortenfius, that thofe lines which found fa 
 unharmonious to a modern ear, had the 
 fame effect upon a Roman one ? For my^ 
 ielf, at leaft, I am much inclined to believe 
 the contrary : and it feems highly incredi- 
 ble, that he who had ventured to cenfure 
 Lucilius for the uncouthnefs of his numbers, 
 fhould himfelf be notoriously guilty of the 
 very fault, againft which he fo ftrongly ex- 
 claims. Moft certain it is, that the delicacy 
 of the ancients with refpedt to numbers, 
 was far fuperior to any thing that modern 
 tafte can pretend to; and that they difco-r 
 vered differences, which are to us abfolute- 
 ly imperceptible. To mention only one re- 
 markable inftance: A very antient writer 
 has obferved upon the following verfe in 
 Virgil, 
 
 Arma virumque cano, froja qui primus ab 
 pris, 
 
 that if inftead of primus we were to pro- 
 nounce it primis (is being long, and us 
 fhort) the entire harmony of the line 
 would be deftroyed. But whofe ear is now 
 fo exquifitely fenfible, as to perceive the 
 diftincSion between thofe two quantities? 
 
 Some
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 173 
 
 Some refinement of this kind might pro- 
 bably give mufic to thofe lines in Horace, 
 which now feem fo untuneable. 
 
 IN fubjects of this nature it is not pof- 
 fible, perhaps, to exprefs one's ideas in any 
 very precife and determinate manner. I 
 will only therefore in general obferve with 
 refpec~l to the requilite ftyle of thefe per- 
 formances, that it confifls in a natural eafe 
 of expreffion, an elegant familiarity of 
 phrafe, which tho* formed of the moft ufual 
 terms of language, has yet a grace and ener- 
 gy no lefs (hiking than that of a more ele- 
 vated diction. There is a certain lively 
 coloring peculiar to compofitions in this 
 way, which, without being fo bright and 
 glowing as is neceffary for the higher poetry, 
 is neverthelefs equally removed from what- 
 ever appears harfh and dry. But particular 
 inftances will perhaps better illuftrate my 
 meaning, than any thing I can farther fay 
 to explain it. There is fcarce a line in the 
 moral epiftles of Mr. Pope, which might 
 not be produced for this purpofe. I choofe, 
 however, to lay before you the following 
 verfes, not as preferring them to many others 
 which might be quoted from that inimit- 
 able
 
 174 LETTER XXXVIl. 
 
 able fatirift j but as they afford me an op- 
 portunity of comparing them with a verfion 
 of the fame original lines, of which they 
 are an imitation} and, by that means, of 
 fhewing you at one view what I conceive is 
 and is not, in the true manner of Horace : 
 
 Peace is my dear delight ', not Fleurys more-, 
 But touch me, and no mini fl er fo fore : 
 Whoe'er offends, at fome unlucky time, 
 Slides into verfe, and hitches in a rhyme -, 
 Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, 
 And the fad burden of fome merry fong. 
 
 I will refer you to your own memory for 
 the Latin pafTage, from whence Mr. Pope 
 has taken the general hint of thefe verfes ; 
 and content myfelf with adding a tranila- 
 tion of the lines from Horace by another 
 hand : 
 
 'Behold me blamelefs bard, how fond of peace ! 
 But he who hurts me (nay, I will be heard) 
 Had better take a lion by the beard ; 
 Ws eyesfiallweep the folly of his tongue, 
 By laughing crouds in rueful ballad Jung. 
 
 There is a ftrength and fpirit in the former 
 of thefe pafiages, and a flatnefs and languor 
 
 in
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 175 
 
 in the latter, which cannot fail of being dif- 
 covered by every reader of the leaft delica- 
 cy of difcernment: and yet the words which 
 compofe them both, arc equally founding 
 and fignificant. The rules then, which I 
 juft now mentioned from Horace, will 
 point out the real caufe of the different ef- 
 fects which thefe two palTages produce in 
 our minds j as the paflfages tbemfelves will 
 ferye to confirm the truth and juftice of the 
 rules. In the lines from Mr. Pope, one of 
 the principal beauties will be found to con- 
 fift in the fhortnefs of the expreffion ; 
 whereas the fentiments in the other are too 
 much incumbered with words. Thus, for 
 inftance, 
 
 Peace is my dear delight, 
 
 is pleaiing, becaufe it is concife j as 
 
 Behold me blamelefs bard, how fond of peace ! 
 
 is, in comparifon of the former, the verba 
 laflas onerantia aures. Another diftinguim- 
 ing perfection in the imitator of Hora'ce, 
 is that fpirit of gaiety which he has diffuf- 
 ed thro' thefe lines, not to mention thofe 
 happy, tho' familiar, images ofJHdJng in- 
 to
 
 176 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 to verfe, and hitching in a rhyme ; which 
 can never be fufficiently admired. But the 
 tranflator, on the contrary, has caft too fe- 
 rious an air over his numbers, and appears 
 with an emotion and earneftnefs that difap- 
 points the force of his fatire : 
 
 Nay, I will be heard, 
 has the mien of a man in a paffion ; and 
 His eyesjhall weep the folly of his tongue, 
 
 tho' good line in itfelf, is much too fo- 
 lemn and tragical for the undifturbed plea- 
 fantry of Horace. 
 
 BUT I need not enter more minutely 
 into an examination of thefe paffages. The 
 general hints I have thrown out in this let- 
 ter will fuffice to mew you wherein I ima- 
 gine the true manner of Horace confifts. 
 And after all, perhaps, it can no more be 
 explained, than acquired, by rules of art. It 
 is what true genius can only execute, and 
 juft tafte alone difcover. I am, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 177 ] 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII; 
 
 *To the fame. 
 
 YOUR admired poet, I remember, 
 fomewhere lays it down as a maxim, 
 that 
 
 'The proper ftudy of mankind is man. 
 
 There cannot, indeed, be a more ufeful, 
 nor, one mould imagine, a more eafy fci- 
 ence 5 fo many lefTons of this kind are every 
 moment forcing themfelves upon our ob- 
 fervation, that it mould feem fcarce poffible 
 not to be well acquainted with the various 
 turns and difpofitions of the human heart. 
 And yet there are fo few who are really 
 adepts in this article, that to fay of a man, 
 be knows the world, is generally efteemed 
 a compliment of the moft figniiicant kind. 
 THE reafon, perhaps, of the general ig- 
 norance which prevails in this fort of know- 
 ledge, may arife from our judging too much 
 by univerfal principles. Whereas there i 
 N a won-
 
 178 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 a wonderful difparity in mankind, and num- 
 berlefs characters exift which cannot pro- 
 perly be reduced to any regular and fixed 
 flandard. Monfieur Pafchal obferves, that 
 the greater fagacity any man poffeffes, the 
 more originals he will difcern among his 
 fpecies - y as it is the remark of Sir William 
 Temple, that no nation under the fun a- 
 bounds with fo many as our own. Plu- 
 tarch, if I remember right, is of opinion, 
 that there is a wider difference between the 
 individuals of our own kind, than what is 
 obfervable between creatures of a feparate 
 order; while Montaigne (who feems to 
 have known human nature perfectly well) 
 fuppofes the didance to be ftill more re- 
 mote, and afferts that the diftinction is much 
 greater between man and man, than be- 
 tween man and beaft. 
 
 THE comic writers have not, I think, 
 taken all the advantage they might of this 
 infinite diverlity of humor in the human 
 race. A judicious obferver of the world 
 might fingle out abundant materials for ri- 
 dicule, without having recourfe to thofe 
 worn-out characters which are for ever re- 
 turning upon the ftage. If I were ac- 
 quainted
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 179 
 
 quainted with any genius in this clafs of 
 writers, I think I could furnifh him with 
 an original, which, if artfully reprefented 
 and connected with proper incidents, might 
 be very fuccefsfully introduced into comedy. 
 The perfon I have in view is my neighbor 
 Stilotes. 
 
 STILOTES in his youth was efteemed 
 to have good fenfe and a tolerable tafte for 
 letters ; as he gained fome reputation at the 
 Univerfity in the exercifes ufual at that 
 place. But as foon as he was freed from 
 the reftraint of tutors, the natural reftlefT- 
 nefs of his temper broke out, and he has 
 never, from that time to this, applied him- 
 felf for half an hour together to any finglc 
 purfuit. He is extremely active in his dif- 
 pofition ; but his whole life is one incefTant 
 whirl of trifles. He rifes, perhaps, with a 
 full intent of amufing himfelf all the 
 morning with his gun ; but before he has 
 got half the length of a field, he recollects 
 that he owes a vifit, which he muft in- 
 ftantly pay : accordingly his horfe is fad- 
 died, and he fets out. But in his way he re- 
 members that he has not given proper or- 
 ders about fuch a flower, and he muft ab- 
 N 2 folutely
 
 i8o LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 folutely return, or the whole ceconomy of 
 his nurfery will be ruined. Thus, in what- 
 ever action you find him engaged, you 
 may be fure it is the very reverfe of what 
 he propofed. Yet with all this quicknefs 
 of tranfition and vivacity of fpirits, he is 
 ib indolent in every thing that has the air 
 of bufinefs, that he is at leaft two or three 
 months before he ca'n perfuade himfelf to 
 open any letter he receives : and from the 
 fame difpofition, he has fuffered the divi- 
 dends of his ftocks to run on for many 
 years without receiving a (hilling of the in- 
 tereft. Stilotes is pofTefled of an eftate in 
 Dorfetfhire, but that being the place where 
 his chief bufinefs lies, he choofes eonftantly 
 to refide with a friend near London. This 
 perfon fubmits to his humor and his com- 
 pany, in hopes that Stylotes will conlider him 
 in his will : but it is more than poffible, that 
 he will never endure the fatigue of figning 
 one. However, having here every thing 
 provided for him but clothes and pocket- 
 money, he lives perfectly to his fatisfaction, 
 in full employment without any real bu- 
 imcfs; and while thofe who look after his 
 eftate take care to fupply him with fuffi- 
 
 cient
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 181 
 
 cient to anfwer thofe two articles, he is en- 
 tirely unconcerned as to all the reft : tho', 
 when he is difpofed to appear more than 
 ordinarily important, he will gravely ha- 
 rangue upon the roguery of ftewards, and 
 complain that his rents will fcarce maintain 
 him iii powder and fhot half the partridge 
 feafon. In fhorti Stilotes is one of the moft 
 extraordinary compounds of indolence and 
 activity that I ever met with -, and as I 
 know you have a tafte for curiofities^ I 
 prefent you with his character as a rarity 
 that merits a place in your collection. 
 Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX* 
 To PHIDIPPUS. 
 
 TIS well, my friend, that the age of 
 transformation is no more : other- 
 wife I mould tremble for your fevere at- 
 tack upon the Mufes, and expect to fee the 
 ftory of your metamorphoiis ernbellifh the 
 poetical miracles of fome modern Ovid* 
 But it is long fince the fate of the Fieri- 
 des-has gained any credit in the world, and 
 N 3 you
 
 i8 2 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 you may now, in full fecurity, contemn 
 the divinities of Parnaffus, and fpeak irre- 
 verently of the daughters of Jove himfelf. 
 You fee, neverthelefs, how highly the an- 
 tients conceived of them, when they thus 
 reprefented them as the offspring of the great 
 father of gods and men. You reje6t, I 
 know, this article of the heathen creed : 
 but I may venture, however, to aflert, that 
 philofophy will confirm what fable has thus 
 invented, and that the Mufes are, in ftricl: 
 truth, of heavenly extraction. 
 
 THE charms of the fine arts are, indeed, 
 literally derived from the author of all na- 
 ture, and founded in the original frame and 
 conftitution of the human mind. Accord- 
 ingly, the general principles of tafte are 
 common to our whole fpecies, and arife 
 from that internal fenfe of beauty which 
 every man, in fome degree at leaft, evi- 
 dently pofTeffes. No rational mind can be 
 fo wholly void of all perceptions of this 
 fort, as to be capable of contemplating the 
 various objeds that furround him, with 
 one equal coldnefs and indifference. There 
 are certain forms which mud neceflarily fill 
 the foul with agreeable ideas ; and fhe is in- 
 
 ftantly
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 183 
 
 ftantly determined in her approbation of 
 them, previous to all reafoning concerning 
 their ufe and convenience. It is upon thefe 
 general principles, that what is called fine 
 tafte in the arts is founded j and confequent- 
 ly is by no means fo precarious and unsettled 
 an idea as you choofe to defcribe it. The truth 
 is, tafte is nothing more than this univer- 
 fal fenfe of beauty, rendered more exquifite 
 by genius, and more correct by cultivation : 
 and it is from the fimple and original ideas 
 of this fort, that the mind learns to form 
 her judgment of the higher and more com- 
 plex kinds. Accordingly, the whole circle 
 of the imitative and oratorical arts is go- 
 verned by the fame general rules of criti- 
 cifm ; and to prove the certainty of thefe 
 with refpect to any one of them, is to 
 cftablifh their validity with regard to all the 
 reft. 1 will therefore confider the criterion 
 of tafte in relation only to fine writing. 
 
 EACH fpecies of compolition has its di- 
 ftinct perfections : and it would require a 
 much larger compafs than a letter affords, 
 to prove their refpective beauties to be de- 
 rived from truth and nature 5 and confe- 
 quemly reducible to a regular and precife 
 N 4 ftandard.
 
 1 84 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 flandard. I will only mention therefore 
 thofe general properties which are efTential 
 to them all, and without which they mufl 
 heceffarily be defective in their feveral kinds. 
 Thefej I think, may be comprehended un- 
 der uniformity in the defign, variety and 
 refemblance in the metaphors and fimili- 
 tudes, together with propriety and harmony 
 in the diction. Now fome or all of thefe 
 qualities conftantly attend our ideas of beau- 
 ty, and neceflarily raife that agreeable per- 
 ception of the mind, in what object foever 
 they appear. The charms of fine compo- 
 fition then, are fo far from exifting only 
 in the heated imagination of an enthufiaftic 
 admirer, that they refult from the conftitu- 
 tion of nature herfelf. And perhaps the 
 principles of criticifm are as certain and in- 
 difputablc,even as thofe of the mathematics. 
 Thus, for inftance, that order is preferable 
 to confuflon, that harmony is more pleaf- 
 ing than diflbnance, with fome few other 
 axioms upon which the fcience is built; are 
 truths which ftrike at once upon the mind 
 with the fame force of conviction, as that 
 the whole is greater than any of its parts, or, 
 that if from equals you take away equals, 
 
 the
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 the remainder will be equal. And in both 
 cafes, the proportions which reft upon thefe 
 plain and obvious maxims, feem equally 
 capable of the fame evidence of demon- 
 ftration. 
 
 BUT as every intellectual, as well as 
 animal faculty is improved and ftrengthen- 
 ed by exercife ; the more the foul exerts this 
 her internal fenfe of beauty upon any par- 
 ticular object, the more me will enlarge 
 and refine her relifh of that peculiar fpecies. 
 For this reafon the works of thofe great 
 mafters, whofe performances have been 
 long and generally admired, fupply a far- 
 ther criterion of fine tafte, equally fixed 
 and certain as that which is immediately 
 derived from nature herfelf. The truth 
 is, fine writing is only the art of railing 
 agreeable fenfadons of the intellectual kind; 
 and therefore, as by examining thofe ori- 
 ginal forms which are adapted to awaken 
 this perception in the mind, we learn what 
 thofe qualities are, which conftitute beauty 
 in general j fo by obferving the peculiar con- 
 duction of thofe compofitions of genius 
 which have always pleafed, we perfect our 
 idea of fine writing in particular. It is this 
 
 united
 
 186 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 united approbation, in perfons of different 
 ages and of various chara&ers and languages, 
 that Longinus has made the teft of the true 
 Sublime j and he might with equal juftice 
 have extended the fame criterion to all the 
 inferior excellencies of elegant compofition. 
 Thus the deference paid to the performances 
 of the great matters of antiquity, is fixed 
 upon juft and folid reafons : it is not be- 
 caufe Ariftotle and Horace have given us 
 the rules of criticifm, that we fubmit to 
 their authority, it is becaufe thofe rules 
 are derived from works which have been 
 diftinguimed by the uninterrupted admira- 
 tion of all the more improved part of man- 
 kind from their earlieft appearance down 
 to this prefent hour. For whatever, thro' 
 a long feries of ages, has been univerfally 
 efteemed as beautiful, cannot but be con- 
 formable to our juft and natural ideas of 
 beauty. 
 
 THE oppofition, however, which fome- 
 times divides the opinions of thofe whofe 
 judgments may be fuppofed equal and per- 
 fect, is urged as a powerful obje&ion againft 
 the reality of a fixed canon of criticifm : 
 it is a proof, you think, that after all which 
 
 can
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 187 
 
 can be faid of fine tafte, it muft ultimately 
 be refolved into the peculiar relim of each 
 individual. But this diverfity of fentiments 
 will not, of itfelf, deftroy the .evidence of 
 the criterion j fince the fame effect may- 
 be produced by numberlefs other caufes. 
 A thoufand accidental circumftances may 
 concur in counteracting the force of the 
 rule, even allowing it to be ever fo fixed 
 . and invariable, when left in its free and un- 
 influenced ftate. Not to mention that falfe 
 biafs which party or perfonal diflike may 
 fix upon the mind, the moft unprejudiced 
 critic will find it difficult to difengage him- 
 felf entirely from thofe partial affections 
 in favor of particular beauties, to which ei- 
 ther the general courfe of his ftudies, or 
 the peculiar caft of his temper, may have 
 rendered him mod fenfible. But as per- 
 fection in any works of genius refults from 
 the united beauty and propriety of its fe- 
 veral diftinct parts, and as it is impoffible 
 that any human compofition mould poffefs 
 all thofe qualities in their higheft and moft 
 fovereign degree; the mind, when (he 
 pronounces judgment upon any piece of this 
 fort, is apt to decide of its merit, as thofe cir- 
 cumftances
 
 188 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 cumftances which flie moft admires, either 
 prevail or are deficient. Thus, for inftance, 
 the excellency of the Roman matters in 
 painting, confifts in beauty of defign, no- 
 blenefs of attitude, and delicacy of expref- 
 iion ; but the charms of good coloring are 
 wanting. On the contrary, the Venetian 
 fchool is faid to have neglected defign a 
 little too much ; but at the fame time has 
 been more attentive to the grace and har- 
 mony of well-difpofed lights and fhades. 
 Now it will be admitted by all admirers of 
 this noble art, that no compofition of the 
 pencil can be perfect, where either of thefe 
 qualities are abfent ; yet the moft accom- 
 plifhed judge may be fo particularly ftruck 
 with one or other of thefe excellencies, in 
 preference to the reft, as to be influenced 
 in his cenfure or applaufe of the whole 
 tablature, by the predominancy or deficien- 
 cy of his favorite beauty. Something of this 
 kind (where the meaner prejudices do not 
 operate) is ever, I am perfuaded, the oc- 
 cafion of that diverfity of fentences which 
 we occafionally hear pronounced by the 
 moft improved judges, on the fame piece. 
 But this only mews, that much caution is 
 
 neceffary
 
 LETTER XL. i8g 
 
 neceffary to give a fine tafte its full and un~ 
 obftruded effecl: ; not that it is in itfelf un- 
 certain and precarious. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 
 fa PALAMEDES. 
 
 YOUR refolution to decline thofe over- 
 tures of acquaintance which Mezen- 
 tius, it feems, has lately made to you, is 
 agreeable to the refined principles which 
 have ever influenced your conduct. A man 
 of your elegant notions of integrity will ob- 
 ferve the fame delicacy with refpecl: to his 
 companions, as Caefar did with regard to 
 his wife, and refufe all commerce with per- 
 fons even but of fufpedled honor. It would 
 not, indeed, be doing juftice to Mezentius, 
 to reprefent him in that number ; for tho' 
 his hypocrify has preferved to him fome few 
 friends, and his immenfe wealth draws af- 
 ter him many followers, the world in gene- 
 neral are by no means divided in their fen- 
 timents concerning him. 
 
 BUT whilft you can have his picture 
 from fo many better hands, why are you 
 
 defirous
 
 190 LETTER XL. 
 
 delirous of feeing it by mine ? It is a pain- 
 ful employment to contemplate human na- 
 ture in its deformities ; as there is nothing, 
 perhaps, more difficult than to execute a 
 portrait of the characteriftical kind with 
 jftrength and fpirit. However, fince you 
 have affigned me the tafk, I do not think 
 myfelf at liberty to refufe it ; efpecially as it 
 is your intereft to fee him delineated in his 
 true form. 
 
 MEZENTIUS, with the defigns and ar- 
 tifice of a Cataline, affects the integrity and 
 patriotifm of a Cato. Liberty, juftice, and 
 honor, are words which he knows perfectly 
 well how to apply with addrefs $ and hav- 
 ing them always ready upon proper occa- 
 fions, he conceals the blackeft purpofes un- 
 der the faireft appearances. For void, as 
 in truth he is, of every worthy principle, 
 he has too much policy not to pretend to 
 the nobleft ; well knowing, that counters 
 feit virtues are the moft fuccefsful vices. It 
 is by arts of this kind, that notwithftand- 
 ing he has (hewn himfelf unreftrained by 
 the mod facred engagements of fociety, 
 and uninfluenced by the moft tender afFec-^ 
 tjons of nature, he has ftill been able to 
 
 retain
 
 L E T T E R XL. i 9I 
 
 tain fome degree of credit in the world ; 
 for he never facrifices his honor to his inte- 
 reft, that he does not, in fome lefs confider- 
 able, but more open inftance, make a con- 
 ceffion of his intereft to his honor; and 
 thus, while he fmks his character on one 
 fide, very artfully raifes it on the other. 
 Accordingly, under pretence of the moft 
 fcrupulous delicacy of confcience, he lately 
 refigned a poft which he held under my 
 lord Godolphin ; when at the fame time 
 he was endeavoring, by the moft mamelefs 
 artifices and evafions, to deceive and defraud 
 a. friend of mine in one of the moft folemn 
 and important tranfaclions that can pafs be- 
 tween man and man. 
 
 BUT will you not fufpecl: that I am de- 
 fcribing a phantom of my own imagina- 
 tion, when I tell you after this, that he has 
 ereded himfelf into a reformer of manners, 
 and is fo injudicioufly officious as to draw 
 the inquiry of the world upon his own 
 morals, by attempting to expofe the defects 
 of others ? A man who ventures publicly 
 to point out the blemifhes of his contem- 
 poraries, fhould at leaft be free from any 
 uncommon flain himfelf, and have nothing 
 
 remarkably
 
 192 LETTER XLI. 
 
 remarkably dark in the complexion of his 
 own private character. But MEZENTIUS, 
 not fatisfied with being vitious, has at length 
 determined to be ridiculous ; and after hav- 
 ing wretchedly fquandered his youth and his 
 patrimony in riot and diflblutenefs, is con- 
 temptibly mif-fpending his old age in mea- 
 furing impotent fyllables, and dealing out 
 pointlefs abufe. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 To O R O N T E S. 
 
 WHAT haughty SacharhTa has put you 
 out of humor with her whole fex; 
 for it is fome difappointment, I fufpect, 
 of the tender kind, that has thus fharp- 
 ened the edge of your fatire, and pointed 
 its inventive againft the fairer half of our 
 fpecies. You were not miftaken, however, 
 when you fuppofed I fhould prove no con- 
 vert to your doctrine \ but rife up as an ad- 
 'vocate, where I profefs myfelf an admirer. 
 I am not, 'tis true, altogether of old Mon- 
 taigne's opinion, that the fouls of both fexes 
 
 font
 
 LETTER XLI. 193 
 
 font jet tez (as he expreffes it) en mefme mottles: 
 on the contrary, lam willing enough to join 
 with you in thinking, that they may be 
 wrought off from different models. Yet 
 the cafts may be equally perfect, tho* it 
 fhould be allowed that they are effentially 
 different. Nature, it is certain, has traced 
 out a feparate courfe of action for the two 
 fexes ; and as they are appointed to diftinct 
 offices of life, it is not improbable that there 
 may be fomething diftincl: likewife in the 
 frame of their minds j that there may be a 
 kind of fex in the very foul. 
 
 I CANNOT therefore but wonder, that 
 Plato fhould have thought it reafonable to 
 admit them into an equal (hare of the dig* 
 nities and offices of his imaginary com- 
 monwealth ; and that the wifdom of the 
 antient Egyptians (liould have fo ftrangely 
 inverted ,the evidentintentionsof Providence, 
 as to confine the men to domeftic affairs, 
 whilft the women, it is faid, were engaged 
 abroad in the active and laborious fcenes of 
 bufmefs. Hiftory, it muft be owned, will 
 fupply fome few female inftances of all the 
 moft mafculine virtues : but appearances 
 of that extraordinary kind are too uncom- 
 O mon,
 
 194 LETTER XLL 
 
 mon to fupport the notion of a general equa* 
 lity in the natural powers of their minds. 
 
 THUS much, however, feems evident, 
 that there are certain moral boundaries 
 Xvhich nature has drawn between the two 
 fexes, and that neither of them can pafs 
 over the limits of the other, without equally 
 deviating from the beauty and decorum of 
 their refpedtive characters: Boadicea in ar- 
 mor is, to meat leaft, as extravagant a fight 
 as Achilles in petticoats. 
 
 IN determining, therefore, the compa- 
 rative merit of the two fexes, it is no dero- 
 gation from female excellency, that it dif- 
 fers in kind from that which diftinguimes 
 the male [part of our fpecies. And if in 
 general it mail be found (what, upon an 
 impartial enquiry, I believe, will moft cer- 
 tainly be found) that women fill up their 
 appointed circle of action with greater regu- 
 larity and dignity than menj the claim of 
 preference cannot juftly be decided in our 
 favor. In the prudential and ceconomical 
 parts of life, I think it undeniable that they 
 rife far above us. And if true fortitude of 
 mind is bed difcovered by a chearful i efign- 
 atlon to the meafures of Providence, we
 
 LETTER XLI. 195 
 
 (hall not find reafon, perhaps, to claim that 
 moft fingular of the human virtues as our 
 peculiar privilege. There are numbers of 
 the other fex, who, from the natural deli- 
 cacy of their conftitution, pafs thro' one 
 continued fceneof fuffering, from their cra- 
 dles to their graves, with a firmnefs of refo- 
 lution that would deferve fo many flatues 
 to be erected to their memories, if heroifm 
 were not eftimated more by the fplendor 
 than the merit of actions. 
 
 BUT whatever real difference there may 
 be between the moral or intellectual powers 
 of the male and female mind ; nature does 
 not feem to have marked the diftinction fo 
 flrongly as our vanity is willing to imagine : 
 and after all, perhaps, education will be 
 found to conftitute the principal fuperiority. 
 It muft be acknowledged, at kaft, that in 
 this article we have every advantage over 
 the fofter fex, that art and induftry can 
 poflibly fecure to us. The moft animating 
 examples of Greece and Rome are fet before 
 us, as early as we are capable of any ob- 
 fervation; and the nobleft compofltions of 
 the antients are given into our hands, "al- 
 moft as foon as we have^nrengrh to hold 
 O 2 them :
 
 196 LETTER XLl. 
 
 them : while the employments of the other 
 fex, at the fame period of life, are generally 
 the reverfe of every thing that can open 
 and enlarge their minds, or fill them with 
 juft and rational notions. The truth of it 
 is, female education is fo much worfe than 
 none, as it is better to leave the mind to its 
 natural and uninftructed fuggeftions, than 
 to lead it into falfe purfuits, and contract its 
 views, by turning them upon the loweft 
 and mod trifling objects. We feem, in- 
 deed, by the manner in which we fuffer 
 the youth of that fex to be trained, to con- 
 fider women agreeably to the opinion of 
 certain Mahometan doctors, and treat them 
 as if we believed they have no fouls : why 
 elfe are they 
 
 Bred only and completed to the tafte 
 Of luftful appetence, tojing, to dance-, 
 'To drefs, and troule the tongue ', and roul the 
 eye? MILT. 
 
 THIS ftrange neglect of cultivating the 
 female mind, can hardly be allowed as good 
 policy, when it is coniidered how much the 
 intereft of foei$Jy is concerned in the recti- 
 tude of their understandings. That feafon 
 
 of
 
 LETTER XLI. 197 
 
 of every man's life which is moft fufcep- 
 tible of the ftrongeft impreffions, is ne- 
 ceflanly under female direction ; as there 
 are few inftances, perhaps, in which that 
 fex is not one of the fecrct fprings which 
 regulates the moft important movements of 
 private or public tranfa&ions. What Cato 
 obferved of his countrymen, is in one re- 
 fpcct true of every nation under the fun : 
 " The Romans, faid he, govern the 
 " world, but it is the women that govern 
 " the Romans." Let not, however, a 
 certain pretended Cato of your acquaintance 
 take occafion from this maxim to infult a 
 fecond time that innocence he has fo often 
 iiyured : for I will tell him another maxim 
 as true as the former, that " there are <:/>- 
 " cumflanccs wherein no woman has power 
 " enough to controle a man of fpirit," 
 
 IF it be true then (as true beyond all 
 peradventure it is) that female influence is 
 thus extenfive \ nothing, certainly, can be 
 of more importance, than to give it a pro- 
 per tendency, by the afliftance of a well- 
 direded education. Far am I from recom- 
 mending any attempts to render women 
 learned 5 yet furely it is ncceflkry they 
 O 3 (hould
 
 198 LETTER XLII. 
 
 fhould be raifed above ignorance. Such a 
 general tincture of the mod ufeful fciences 
 as may ferve to free the mind from vulgar 
 prejudices, and give it a relifh for the ra- 
 tional exercife of its powers, might very 
 juftly enter into the plan of female erudi- 
 tion. That fex might be taught to turn 
 the courfe of their reflections into a proper 
 and advantageous chanel, without any 
 danger of rendering them too elevated for 
 the feminine duties of life. In a word, I 
 Avould have them confidered as defigned 
 by Providence for ufe as well as mew, and 
 trained up, not only as women, but as ra- 
 tional creatures. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 To P A L E M O N. 
 
 WHILST you are engaged in turn- 
 ing over the records of pad ages, 
 and tracing our conftitution from its rife, 
 thro' all its feveral periods j I fometimes 
 amufe myfelf with reviewing certain annals 
 of an humbler kind, and confidering the 
 
 various
 
 LETTER XLH. 199 
 
 various turns and revolutions that have hap- 
 pened in the fentiments and affections of 
 thofe with whom I have been moft con- 
 nected. A hiftory of this fort is not, in-r 
 deed, fo ftriking as that which exhibits 
 kings and heroes to our view ; but may it 
 not be contemplated, Palemon, with more 
 private advantage ? 
 
 ME THINKS we mould fcarce be fo im- 
 bittered againft thofe who differ from us in 
 principle or practice, were we oftener to re- 
 flect how frequently we have varied from 
 ourfelves in both thofe articles. It was but 
 yefterday that Lucius, whom I once knew 
 a very zealous advocate for the moft con- 
 troverted points of faith, was arguing with 
 equal warmth and vehemence on the prin- 
 ciples of Deifm ; as Bathillus, who fet out 
 in the world a cool infidel, has lately drawn 
 up one of the moft plaufible defences of 
 the myftic devotees, that, perhaps, was 
 ever written. The truth is, a man muft 
 either have palled his whole life with- 
 out reflecting, or his thoughts muft have 
 run in a very limited chanel, who has not 
 often experienced many remarkable revo- 
 Jutions of mind. 
 
 O 4 THIS
 
 200 LETTER XLIL 
 
 THE fame kind of inconftancy is obferv- 
 able in our purfuits of happinefs as well as 
 truth. Thus our friend Curio, whom we 
 both remember in the former part of his 
 life, enamored of every fair face he met, 
 and enjoying every woman he could pur- 
 chafe j has at laft collected this diffufive 
 flame into a fingle point, and could not be 
 tempted to commit an infidelity to his mar- 
 riage vow, tho' a form as beautiful as the 
 Venus of Apelles were to court his embrace : 
 whilft Apemanthes, on the other hand, who 
 was the moft fober and domeftic man I ever 
 knew till he loft his wife, commenced a 
 rake at five and forty, and is now for ever 
 in a tavern or a ftew. 
 
 WHO knows, Palemon, whether even 
 this humor of moralizing, which, as you 
 often tell me, fo ftrongly marks my cha- 
 racter, may not wear out in time, and be 
 fucceeded by a brighter and more lively 
 vein ? who knows but I may court again 
 the miftrefs I have forfaken, and die at laft 
 in the arms of ambition ? Cleora, at leaft, 
 who frequently rallies me upon that fever 
 of my youth, afiures me I am only in the 
 intermifiion of a fit, which will certainly 
 
 return,
 
 LETTER XLIII. 201 
 
 return. But tho' there may be fome excufe, 
 perhaps, in exchanging our follies or our 
 errors, there can be none in refuming thofe 
 we have once happily quitted : for furely 
 he muft be a very injudicious fportfman, 
 who can be tempted to beat over thofe fields 
 again which have ever difappointed him of 
 his game. Farewel. 
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 $0 EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 IT is a pretty obfervation, which I have 
 fomewhere met, that " the moft 
 " pleafing of all harmony arifes from the 
 *' cenfure of a fingle perfon, when mix- 
 " ed with the general applaufes of the 
 " world." I almoft , fufpect, therefore, 
 that you are confidering the intereft of your 
 admired author, when you call upon me 
 for my farther objections to his performance : 
 and are for joining me, perhaps, to the 
 number of thofe who advance his reputa- 
 tion, by oppofmg it. The truth, however, is, 
 you could not have chofen a critic (if a critic 
 
 I might
 
 202 LETTER XLIH. 
 
 I might venture to call my felf) who has a 
 higher efteem for all the competitions of 
 Mr. Pope : as indeed I look upon every thing 
 that comes from his hands, with the fame 
 degree of veneration as if it were confecrated 
 by antiquity. - Neverthelefs, tho' I greatly 
 revere his judgment, I cannot abfolutely re- 
 nounce my own ; and fmce fome have been 
 bold enough to advance, that even the fa- 
 cred writings themfelves do not always fpeak 
 the language of the Spirit; I may have 
 leave to fufpecl of the poets what has been 
 aflerted of the prophets, and fuppofe that 
 their pens are not, at all feafons, under the 
 guidance of infpiration. But as there is 
 fomething extremely ungrateful to the mind, 
 in dwelling upon thole little fpots that ne- 
 cefTarily attend the luftre of all human me- 
 rit ; you muft allow me to join his beauties 
 with his imperfections, and admire with 
 rapture, after having condemned with re- 
 gret. 
 
 THERE is a certain modern figure of 
 fpeech, with the authors of 'The art of 
 Jinking in poetry have called the diminifhing. 
 This, Ib far as it relates to words only, 
 confifts in debafing a great idea, by exprefif-
 
 LETTER XLIII. 203 
 
 ing it in a term of meaner import. Mi* 
 Pope has himfelf now and then fallen into 
 this kind of the profound^ which he has 
 with fuch uncommon wit and fpirit ex- 
 pofed in the writings of others. Thus 
 Agamemnon, addreffing himfelf to Mene- 
 laus and UlyfTes, afks, 
 
 And can you, chiefs,, without a 
 Whole troops before you , lab 'ring in the fray ? 
 
 B. iv. 
 
 So likewife Pandarus, fpeaking of Diomed ? 
 who is performing the utmoft efforts of he- 
 'oifm in the field of battle, fays, 
 
 fome guardian of the skies, 
 Jnvofo'd in cloudy protects him in the fray. 
 
 V. 235. 
 
 BUT what would you think, Euphro- 
 nius, were you to hear of the " imper- 
 <c vious foam'' and " rough waves of a 
 < c brook ?" would it not put you in mind 
 of that drole thought of the ingenious Dr. 
 Young, in one of his epiftles to our au- 
 thor, where he talks of a puddle in ajlorm ? 
 yet by thus confounding the properties of 
 the highefl objects with thofe of the lowed, 
 
 Mr.
 
 204 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 Jtfr. Pope has turned one of the moft pleaf- 
 ing fimilies in the whole Iliad, into down- 
 right burlefque : 
 
 As when fome fimple fwain his cotforfakes y 
 And wide thro' fern an unknown journey takes $ 
 If chance a fuelling brook hispaflagejlay, 
 And foam impervious crofs the wand'rer's 
 
 way, 
 
 Confufd he flops, a length of country paft, 
 Eyes the rough waves, and ttr'd, returns at 
 
 loft. ' V. 734 
 
 This fwelling brook, however, of Mr. 
 Pope, is in Homer a rapid river, rufhing 
 with violence into the fea : 
 
 V. 598, 
 
 IT is one of the efTential requifltes of an 
 epic poem, and indeed every other kind 
 of ferious poetry, that the ftyle be raifed 
 above common language - f as nothing takes 
 off ib much from that iblemnity of diction, 
 from which the poet ought never to depart, 
 as idioms of a vulgar and familiar caft. 
 Mr. Pope has fometimes neglected this im- 
 portant rule j but moft frequently in the 
 
 intro-
 
 LETTER XLIII. 205 
 
 introdudtion of his fpeeches. To mention 
 only a few inftances : 
 
 That done, to Phcenix A) 'ax gave the fign. 
 
 ix. 291. 
 With that ftern Ajax his long filence broke. 
 
 ix-735- 
 With that the venerable warrior rofe. 
 
 x. 150. 
 With that they ftepp'd afide, &c. 
 
 x. 415, 
 
 Whereas Homer generally prefaces his 
 fpeeches with a dignity of phrafe, that calls 
 up the attention of the reader to what is 
 going to be uttered. *- Milton has very hap- 
 pily copied his manner in this particular, as 
 in many others; and tho' he often falls into 
 a flatnefs of expreflion, he has never once, 
 I think, committed that error upon occafi- 
 ons of this kind. He ufually ufhers in his 
 harangues with fomething charafteriftical 
 of the fpeaker, or that points out fome re- 
 markable circumftance of his prefent fitua- 
 tion, in the following manner : 
 
 Satan with bold words 
 Breaking the horrid Jiknce, thus began, 
 
 1,82, 
 him
 
 2o6 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 him thus anfwerd foon his bold compeer 
 
 i. 125. 
 He ended frowning : , 
 
 on the other fide uprofe 
 Belial, 
 And mfb perfuafive accents thus began. 
 
 ii. 106. 
 
 If you compare the effect which an intro- 
 duction of this defcriptive fort has upon the 
 mind, with thofe low and unawakening ex- 
 preffions which I have marked in the lines 
 Ijuftnow quoted from our Englifh Iliad; 
 you will not, perhaps, confider my objecti- 
 on as altogether without foundation. 
 
 ALL oppofition of ideas mould be care- 
 fully avoided in a poem of this kind, as un- 
 becoming the gravity of the heroic Mufe. 
 But does not Mr. Pope fometimes facrifiee 
 fimplicity to falfe ornament, and lofe the 
 ttiajefty of Homer in the affectations of 
 Ovid ? Of this fort a fevere critic would, 
 perhaps, efteem his calling an army march- 
 ing with fpears erect, a moving iron rod: 
 
 Such andfo thick tti embattled fyuadrons flood 
 With fpears ereffi, a moving iron wood. 
 
 There
 
 LETTER XLIII. 207 
 
 There feems alfo to be an inconfiftency in 
 the two parts of this defcription - 3 for the 
 troops are reprefented as {landing ftill, at the 
 fame time that the circumftance mentioned 
 of the fpears, fhould rather imply (as in- 
 deed the truth is) that they were in motion. 
 But -if the tranflator had been faithful to 
 his author in this pafTage, neither of thefe 
 objections could have been raifed : for in 
 Homer it is, 
 
 Kvctvtctt, ff3.*e<riv Tfc xai 
 
 iv. 280, 
 
 Is there not likewife fome little tendency to 
 a pun, in thofe upbraiding lines which 
 Hedor addrefles to Paris ? 
 
 For fbee, great Ilions guardian, heroes fall, 
 27// heaps of dead alone defend the wall. 
 
 Mr. Pope at leaft deferts his guide, in order 
 to give us this conceit of dead men defending 
 a town; for the original could not poffibly 
 lead him into it. Homer, with a plainnefs 
 fuitable to the occafion, only tells us, 
 
 jufyj <p9m;9o7 ttQ/LiFrQhivt etrvv rt r^o;, 
 
 vi. 327. 
 TEUCER,
 
 LETTER XL1I1. 
 
 ) in the eighth book, aims a 
 dart at He&or, which, miffing its way, flew 
 Gorythio j upon which we are told, 
 
 Another Jhaft the raging archer threw ; 
 'That other Jhaft with erring fury flew. 
 (FromHetforPhabm turn 'd the flying wound) 
 Tetfell not dry or guiltlefs to the ground. 
 
 A flying wound is a thought exactly in the 
 fpirit of Ovid; but highly unworthy of 
 Pope as well as of Homer : and, indeed, 
 there is not the leaft foundation for it in the 
 original. But what do you think of the 
 lhaft that fell dry or guiltlefs ? * where you 
 fee one figurative epithet is added as expla- 
 natory of the other. The doubling of epi- 
 thets, without raifing the idea, is not allow- 
 able in compofitions of any kind ; but leaft 
 of all in poetry. It is, fays Quinclilian, as 
 if every common foldier in an army were 
 to be attended with a valet ; you encreafe 
 your number without adding to your itrength. 
 
 * Candor obliges me to obferve, that perhaps the 
 disjunctive particle or, is an error of the prefs, and that 
 in Mr. Pope's manufcript it was and. This correction 
 would render the paflfage much Icfs exceptionable ; and 
 probably re the true reading. 
 
 BUT
 
 LETTER XLIII. 209 
 
 BUT if it be a fault to croud epithets 
 of the fame import one upon the other j it 
 is much more fo to employ fuch as call off 
 the attention from the principal idea to be 
 raifed, and turn it upon little, or foreign cir- 
 cumftances. When /Eneas is wounded by 
 Tydides, Homer defcribes Venus as con- 
 dueling him thro' the thickeft tumult of the 
 enemy, and conveying him from the field 
 of battle. But while we are following the 
 hero with our whole concern, and trembling 
 for the danger which furrounds him on all 
 fides ; Mr. Pope leads us off from our 
 anxiety for ^Eneas, by an uninterefting epi- 
 thet relating to the ftrufture of thofe in- 
 ftruments of death, which were every where 
 flying about him ; and we are coldly in- 
 formed, that the darts were feathered : 
 
 Safe thro the rujhinghorfe and 'feather'd flight 
 Qffoundingjhaftsfoe bears him thro thejight. 
 
 V. 393- 
 
 BUT as his epithets fometimes debafe the 
 general image to be raifed ; fo they now and 
 then adorn them with a falfe brilliancy. 
 Thus, fpeaking of a perfon flain by an ar- 
 row, he calls it a pointed death, iv. 607. 
 P Defcribing
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 Defcribing another who was attacked by 
 numbers at once, he tells us, 
 
 A grove of lances glitter'd at his breaft. 
 
 iv. 621. 
 
 and reprefenting a foreft on fire, he fays, 
 
 In blazing heaps the grove's old honors fall, 
 And one refulgent ruin levels all. 
 
 x. 20 1, 1 
 
 But one of the moft unpardonable instances 
 of this kind is, where he relates the death 
 of Hypfenor, a perfon who, it feems, ex- 
 ercifed the facerdotal office : 
 
 On his broad fioulder fell the forceful brand, -j 
 Whence glancing downwardlopt his holy band, 1 
 And ftained with facred blood the blufhing j 
 fand. 
 
 To take the force of this epithet, we muft 
 fuppofe that the rednefs which appeared 
 upon the fand on this occafion, was an ef- 
 fed: of its blufhingto find itfelf (rained with 
 the blood of fo facred a perfon : than which 
 there cannot be a more forced and unna- 
 tural thought. It puts me in mind of a paf- 
 fage in a French dramatic writer, who has 
 formed a play upon the flory of Pyramus 
 
 and
 
 LETTER XLIII. 2 it 
 
 and Thifbe. The haplefs maid, addreffing 
 herfelf to the dagger, which lies by the fide 
 of her lover, breaks out into the following 
 exclamation : 
 
 Ah ! void le poignard qui dufang defon maitre 
 S'eftfouille lacbement : Hen rougit le traitre. 
 
 Boileau, taking notice of thefe lines, ob- 
 ferves, toutes ks glace s du Nord enfemble ne 
 font pas, a men fens, plus froides que cette 
 penffa. But of the two poets, I know not 
 whether Mr. Pope is not moft to be con- 
 demned : for whatever fhame the poignard 
 might take to itfelf, for being concerned in 
 the murder of the lover; it is certain that 
 the fand had not the leaft (hare in the death 
 of the prieft. 
 
 THE antient critics have infifted much 
 upon propriety of language 3 and, indeed, 
 one may with great juftice 'fay what the 
 infulted Job docs to his impertinent friends, 
 how forcible are right words ! The truth 
 is, tho' the fentiment muft always fup- 
 port the expreffion, yet the expreffion 
 muft give grace and efficacy to the fenti- 
 ment j and the fame thought fliall fre- 
 quently be admired or condemned, accord- 
 ing to the merit of the particular phrafe in 
 P 2 which
 
 212 LETTER XLHI. 
 
 which it is conveyed. For this reafon, J, 
 Casfar, in a treatife which he wrote con- 
 cerning the Latin language, calls a judicious 
 choice of words, the origin of eloquence ; 
 as indeed neither oratory nor poetry can be 
 raifed to any degree of perfection, where 
 this their principal root is neglected. In 
 this art Virgil particularly excels ; and it is 
 the inimitable grace of his words (as Mr. 
 Dryden fomewhere juftly obferves) wherein 
 that beauty principally confifts, which gives 
 fo inexpreffible a pleafure to him, who beft 
 understands their force. No man was ever 
 a more fkilful mafter of this powerful art, 
 than Mr. Pope ; as he has, upon feveral oc- 
 cafions throughout this tranflation, raifed 
 and dignified his ftyle with certain anti- 
 quated words and phrafes, that are moft 
 wonderfully folemn and majeftic. I can- 
 not, however, forbear mentioning an in- 
 ftance, where he has employed an obfo- 
 lete term lefs happily, I think, than is his ge- 
 neral cuftom. It occurs in fome lines which 
 I juft now quoted for another purpofe : 
 
 On his proud flmdder fell the forceful brand, 
 Thence glancing downward loft his holy hand* 
 
 V. 105. 
 
 Brand
 
 LETTER XLIII. 213 
 
 Brand is fometimes ufed by Spencer for a 
 fword ; and in that fenfe it is here intro- 
 duced. But as we flill retain this word in 
 a different application, it will always be im- 
 proper to adapt it in its antiquated meaning, 
 becaufe it muft neceflarily occafion ambi- 
 guity ; an error in ftyle of all others the moft 
 to be avoided. Accordingly, every reader of 
 the lines I have quoted, muft take up an idea 
 very different from that which the poet in- 
 tends, and which he will carry on with him 
 till he arrives at the middle of the fecond 
 verfe. And if he happens to be unacquaint- 
 ed with the language of our old writers, 
 when he comes to 
 
 lopt hisfacred hand, 
 
 he will be loft in a confufion of images, 
 and have abfolutely no idea remaining. 
 
 THERE is another uncommon elegance 
 in the management of words, which re- 
 quires a very fingular turn of genius, and 
 great delicacy of judgment to attain. As 
 the art I juft before mentioned, turns upon 
 employing antiquated words with force and 
 propriety ; fo this confifts in giving the 
 grace of novelty to the received and current 
 P 3 terms.
 
 2i 4 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 terms of a language, by applying them in 
 a new and unexpected manner : 
 
 Dixeris egregie, notumfi calllda verlum 
 Reddiderit junffiura novum. HOR. 
 
 The great caution, however, to be obferved 
 in any attempt of this kind, is fo judiciouily 
 to connect the expreffions, as to remoye every 
 doubt concerning the fignification in which 
 they are defigned ; for as perfpicuity is the 
 end and fupreme excellency of writing, 
 there cannot be a more fatal objection to an 
 author's ftyle, than that it flands in need of 
 a commentator. But will not this objection, 
 lie againft the following verfe ? 
 
 % 
 Next artful Pherechs untimely fell. V. 75. 
 
 The word Artful is here taken out of its, 
 appropriated acceptation, in order to exprefs 
 
 But however allowable it may be (as in- 
 deed it is not only allowable, but graceful) 
 to raife a word above its ordinary import, 
 when the cattidajunttura (as Horace calls 
 it) determines at ooce the feufe in which
 
 L E T T E H XLIIL 215 
 
 It is ufcd :. ye.t it mould never be caft fo far 
 back from its cuftomary meaning, as to ftand 
 for an idea which has no relation to what it 
 implies, in its primary and natural ftate. 
 This would be introducing uncertainty and, 
 confufion into a language, and turning every 
 fentence into a riddle. Accordingly, after 
 vye have travelled on thro* the feveral fuc- 
 ceeding lines in this pafTage, we are obliged 
 to change the idea with which we fet out ; 
 and find, at laft, that by \.\\t artful Phereclus 
 we are to underftand, not what we at firft 
 apprehended, a man of cunning and defign, 
 but one who is (killed in the mechanical 
 arts. 
 
 IT is with a liberty of the fame unfuccefs- 
 ful kind, that Mr. Pope has rendered 
 
 Toy 'yrporepos isrfWJWTri Auxciivot; a^Aaoc W04* 
 
 V. 276. 
 Stern Lycaoni warlike race begun, 
 
 I know not by what figure of fpeech the 
 whole race of a man can denote his next 
 immediate defcendant ; and, I fear, no (y- 
 necdoche can acquit this expreffion of non- 
 fenfe. The truth is, whoever ventures to 
 ftrike out of the common road, muft be. 
 P 4. more
 
 216 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 more than ordinarily careful, or he will 
 probably lofe his way. 
 
 THIS reminds me of a paflage or two, 
 where our poet has been extremely injurious 
 to the fenfe of his author, and made him 
 talk a language which he never ufes; the 
 language, I mean, of abfurdity. In the 
 lixth Iliad, Agamemnon affures Menelaus, 
 
 vi. 60. 
 
 But in Mr. Pope's verlion, that chief tells 
 his brother, 
 
 JKonJbalf perijb whole and bury all. 
 
 Perhaps it may be over-nice to remark, that 
 as the deftruction of Troy is firft mention- 
 ed, it has a little the appearance of nonfenfe 
 to talk afterwards of her burying her fons. 
 However the latter part of this verfe di-* 
 redtly contradicts the original ; for Aga- 
 memnon is fo far from afTerting that Ilion, 
 fhould bury all her inhabitants, that he pro- 
 nounces pofitively, they fhould not be bu- 
 ried at all : a calamity, in the opinion of the 
 antients, of all others the moft terrible. But 
 poihbly the error may lie in the printer, 
 
 not
 
 LETTER XLIII. 217 
 
 not in the poet ; and perhaps the line ori- 
 ginally flood thus : 
 
 Ili&n fiall perifo whole, unbury'd, all. 
 
 If To, both my objections vanifh: and thofe 
 who are converfant with the prefs, will not 
 think this fuppofition improbable; fince 
 much more unlikely miftakes often happen 
 by the careleffnefs of compofitors. 
 
 BUT tho' lam willing to make all the al- 
 lowance poiTible to an author, who raifes 
 our admiration {00 often not to have a right 
 to the utmoft candor wherever he fails ; yet 
 J can find no excufe for an unaccountable 
 abfurdity he has fallen into, in tranflating a 
 paffage of the tenth book. Diomed and 
 Ulyfles, taking advantage of the night, fet 
 out in order to view the Trojan camp. In 
 their way they meet with Dolon, who is go- 
 ing from thence to the Grecian, upon an ex- 
 pedition of the fame kind. After having 
 feized this unfortunate adventurer, and ex- 
 amined him concerning the fituation and 
 defigns of the enemy, Diomed draws his 
 iword, and ftrikes off Dolon's head, in the 
 veryinftant that he is fupplicating for mercy: 
 
 457
 
 2i8 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 Mr. Pope has turned this into a moft extra- 
 ordinary miracle, by a/Turing us that the 
 head fpoke after it had quitted the body r 
 
 rfhe head yet'fpeakingy mutter'd as it fell. 
 
 This puts me in mind of a wonder of thei 
 fame kind in the Fairy Queen, where Cor- 
 flambo is reprefented as blafpheming, after 
 his head had been flruck off by prince Ar- 
 thur: 
 
 Hefmpte at him with all his might and main. 
 Sofurioujly, that, ere he wlfly he found 
 His head before him tumbling on the ground ^ 
 *The whiles his babbling tongue did yet blaf- 
 
 pheme, 
 
 And curs' d his God, that did him fo con-, 
 found. Book iv. 8. 
 
 But Corfkmbo was the fon of a giantefs, 
 and could conquer whole kingdoms by on- 
 ly looking at them. We may, perhaps, 
 therefore allow him to talk, when every 
 other man mud be filent: whereas there is 
 nothing in the hiftory of poor Dolon, that 
 can give him the leaft pretence to this fin- 
 gular privilege. Mr. Pope feems to have 
 been led into this brunder by Scaliger, 
 
 wha
 
 LETTER XLIII. 219 
 
 who has given the fame fenfe to the verfe, 
 and then with great wifdom and gravity 
 obfaves,fa}fum eft a pulmone caput avulfum 
 loqui pofle. 
 
 THE moft pleafing picture in the whole 
 Iliad, is, I think, the parting of Hector and 
 Andromache : and our excellent tranflator 
 has, in general, very fuccefsfully copied it. 
 But in fome places he feems not to have 
 touched it with that delicacy of pencil which 
 graces the original j as he has entirely loft 
 the beauty of one of the figures. Hector 
 is reprefented as extending his arms to em- 
 brace the little Aftyanax, who being terrified 
 with the unufual appearance of a man in 
 armor, throws himfelf back upon his nurfe's 
 breaft, and falls into tears. But though the 
 hero and his fon were defigned to draw our 
 principal attention, Homer intended like- 
 wife that we hould caft a glance towards 
 the nurfe. For this purpofe, he does not 
 mark her out merely by the name of her 
 office ; but adds an epithet to fhew that me 
 makes no inconfiderable figure in the piece: 
 he does not fimply call her T/9//yji, but 
 c{/'(W3k -n9/H7i. This circumftance Mr, 
 } ? ope has entirely overlooked :
 
 220 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 a 
 
 -arctic 'sro; X,O/\TTOV 
 
 75, 
 
 ^ 
 
 Trariip 
 TOI; zcp 
 f/^J K<zT'$nKxv fni 
 
 vi. 466. 
 
 72>ztf having feid, th y illttftrious chief of Troy 
 Stretch* d his fond arms toclafp the lovely boy ; 
 The babe clung crying to his nurfe'j breaft, 
 Scar'd by the dazzling helm and nodding crejl: 
 With fecret pie afar e each fond parent f mil* d, 
 And Heffior hafted to relieve his child : 
 The glitt'ring terrors from his head unbound \ 
 And f lac d the beaming helmet on the ground. 
 
 I was going to object to the glittering ter- 
 rors y in the laft line but one : but I have 
 already taken notice of thefe little affe&ed 
 expreffions, where the fubfUmive is fet at 
 variance with its attribute. 
 
 IT is the obfervation of Quinclilian, that 
 no poet ever excelled Homer in the fubli- 
 mity with which he treats great fubjects., 
 or in the delicacy and propriety he always 
 
 discovers
 
 LETTER XLIII. 221 
 
 difcovers in the management of irnall ones, 
 There is a paflage in the ninth Iliad, which 
 will juftify the truth of the latter of thefe 
 obfervations. When Achilles receives Ajax 
 and UlyfTes in his tent, who were fent to 
 him in the name of Agamemnon, in order 
 to prevail with him to return to the army ; 
 Homer gives a very minute account of the 
 entertainment, which was prepared for 
 them upon that occalion. It is irnpoffiblej 
 perhaps, in modern language, to preferve 
 the fame dignity in defcriptions of this kind, 
 which fo confiderably railes the original : 
 and indeed Mr. Pope warns his readers not 
 to expect much beauty in the picture. 
 However, a tranflator fhould be careful not 
 to throw in any additional circurnftances, 
 which may lower and debafe the piece ; 
 which yet Mr. Pope has, in his verfion of 
 the following line : 
 
 x. 211. 
 
 Mean while Patrodus fweats, the fire to raife. 
 Own the truth, Euphronius : does not this 
 give you the idea of a greafy cook at a 
 kitchen fire ? whereas nothing of this kind 
 is fuggefted in the original. On the contra- 
 
 ry.
 
 222 LETTER XLIIL 
 
 ry, the epithet i<7c9gos feems to have been - 
 added by Homer, in order to reconcile us 
 to the meannefs of the action, by reminding 
 us of the high character of the perfon who 
 is engaged in it ; and, as Mr. Addifon ob- 
 ferves of Virgil's hufoandman, that <c he 
 <f tofles about his dung with an air of grace- 
 " fulnefs;" one may, with the fame truth, 
 fay of Homer's hero, that he lights his fire 
 with an air of dignity. 
 
 I INTENDED to have elofed thefe hafty 
 objections, with laying before you fome of 
 thofe paflages, where Mr. Pope feems to 
 have equalled, or excelled his original. But 
 I perceive I have already extended my let- 
 ter beyond a reafonable limit : I will referve 
 therefore that more pleafing, as well as 
 much eafier tafk, to fome future occafion. 
 In the mean time, I defire you will look 
 upon thefe remarks, not as proceeding from 
 a fpirit of cavil (than which I know not 
 any more truly contemptible) but as an in- 
 fhnce of my having read your favorite 
 poet with that attention, which his own un- 
 equalled merit and your judicious recom- 
 mendation moft defervedly claim. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER
 
 I 223 ] 
 
 LETTER XLIV. 
 To PALAMEDES. 
 
 IH A V E had occafion a thoufand times 
 fince I faw you, to w\{hmy(e\fintbe!an4 
 where all things are forgotten ; at leaft, that 
 I did not live in the memory of certain reft- 
 lefs mortals of your acquaintance, who are 
 vifitors by profeffion. The misfortune is, 
 no retirement is fo remote, nor fancluary 
 fo facred, as to afford a protection from 
 their impertinence : and tho' one were to 
 fly to the defart, and take refuge in the cells 
 of faints and hermits, one mould be alarm- 
 ed with their unmeaning voice, crying even 
 in the tvildernefs. They fpread themfelves, 
 in truth, over the whole face of the 
 land, and lay wafte the faireft hours of con- 
 verfation. For my own part (to fpeak of 
 them in a ftyle fuitable to their tafte and 
 talents) I look upon them, not as paying 
 vifits, but vifitations; and am never obliged 
 to give audience to one of this fpecies, that 
 I do not confider myfelf as under a judg- 
 ment for thofe numberlefs hours, which I 
 
 have
 
 LETTER XLIV. 
 
 have fpent in vain. If thcfe fons and 
 daughters of idlenefs and folly would be 
 perfuaded to enter into an exclufive fociety 
 among themfelves, the reft of the world 
 might poffefs their moments unmolefted : 
 but nothing lefs will fatisfy them than open- 
 ing a general commerce, and failing into 
 every port where choice or chance may 
 <3rive them. Were we to live, indeed, to 
 the years of the antediluvians, one might 
 afford to refign fome part of one's own 
 time, in charitable relief of the unfufFerable 
 weight of theirs j but flnce the days of man 
 are fhrunk into a few hafty revolutions of 
 the fun, whole afternoons are much too 
 confiderable a facrifice to be offered up to 
 tame civility. What heightens the con- 
 tempt of this character, is, that they who 
 have fo much of the form, have always leaft 
 of the power of friendmip : and tho' they 
 will craze their chariot wheels (as Milton 
 expreffes it) to deftroy your repofe j they 
 would not drive half the length of a ftreet 
 to arfiir, your diftrefs. 
 
 IT was owing to an interruption from 
 one of thefe obfequious intruders, that I 
 was prevented keeping my engagement 
 
 with
 
 LETTER XLV. 225 
 
 with you yefterday j and you muft indulge 
 me in this difcharge of my invective againft 
 the ridiculous occafion of fo mortifying a 
 difappointment. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 To HORTENSIUS. 
 
 be able to fupprefs my acknowledg- 
 ments of the pleafure I received from 
 your approbation, were to (hew that I do 
 not deferve it; for is it poffible to value the 
 praife of the judicious as one ought, and yet 
 be filent under its influence ? I can with 
 flrift truth fay of you, what a Greek poet 
 faid of Plato, who, reading his performance 
 to a circle where that great philofopher was 
 prefent, and finding himfelf defcrted at 
 length by all the reft of the company, cried 
 out, " I will proceed neverthelefs j for 
 " Plato is himfelf an audience. 
 
 TRUE fame, indeed, is no more in the 
 gift than in the porTeffion of numbers, as 
 it is only in the difpofal of the wife and the 
 
 impartial
 
 226 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 impartial. But if both thofe qualifications 
 muft concur to give validity to a vote of 
 this kind, how little reafon has an author 
 to be either deprefled or elated by general 
 cenfure or applaufe ? 
 
 THE triumphs of genius are not like thofe 
 of antient heroifm, where the meaneft cap- 
 tive made a part of the pomp, as well as the 
 nobleft. It is not the multitude, but the 
 dignity of thofe that compofe her followers, 
 that can add any thing to her real glory j and 
 a fingle attendant may often render her 
 more truly illuftrious, than a v/hole train of 
 common admirers. I am fure at leaft, I 
 have no ambition of drawing after me vul- 
 gar acclamations j and whilft I have the 
 happinefs to enjoy your applaufe, I ihall al- 
 ways consider myfelf in pofleflion of the 
 trueft fame. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XLVI. 
 To CLYTANDER. 
 
 YOU who never forget any thing, can 
 tell me, I dare fay, vvhofe obferva- 
 tion it is, that " of all the actions of our 
 
 " life
 
 LETTER XLVI. 227 
 
 cc life nothing is more uncommon, than to 
 " laugh or cry with a good grace." But 
 though I cannot recollect the author I mall 
 always retain his maxim; as, indeed, eve- 
 ry day's occurrences fuggeft the truth of it 
 to my mind. I had particularly an occa- 
 fion to fee one part of it verified in the 
 treatife I herewith return you : for never, 
 lure, was mirth more injudicioufly direct- 
 ed, than that which this writer of your ac- 
 quaintance has employed. To drole upon 
 the eftablifhed religion of a country, and 
 laugh at the moft facred and inviolable of her 
 ordinances, is as far removed from good 
 politics as it is from good manners. It is 
 indeed upon maxims of policy alone, that 
 one can reafon with thofe who adopt the 
 principles, which this author has embraced : 
 I will add therefore (fince, it feems, you 
 fometimes communicate to him my letters) 
 that to endeavor to leffcn that veneration 
 which is due to the religious inftitutions of 
 a nation, when they neither run counter to 
 any of the great lines of morality, nor op- 
 pofe the natural rights of mankind, is a 
 fort of zeal which I know not by what 
 epithet fufficiently to ftigmatife : it is at- 
 Q^2 tacking
 
 228 LETTER XLVL 
 
 tacking the ftrongeft holds of fociety, and 
 attempting to deftroy the firmeft guard of 
 human fecurity. Far am I, indeed, from 
 thinking there is no other ; or that the no- 
 tion of a moral fenfe is a vain and ground- 
 lefs hypothefis. But wonderfully limited 
 muft the experience of thofe philofophers 
 undoubtedly be, who imagine, that an im- 
 planted love of virtue is fufficient to con- 
 duct the generality of mankind through the 
 paths of moral duties, and fupercede the 
 necefTuy of a farther and more powerful 
 guide. A fenfe of honor, likewife, where 
 it operates in its true and genuine vigor, is, 
 I confefs, a moft noble and powerful prin- 
 ciple j but far too refined a motive of action, 
 even for the more cultivated part of our 
 fpecies to adopt in general j and, in fact, 
 we find it much oftener profeffed, than 
 purfued. Nor are the laws of a communi- 
 ty fufficient to anfwer all the reftraining 
 purpofes of government j as there are many 
 moral points, which it is impolTible to fe- 
 cure by exprefs provifions. Human infti- 
 tutions can reach no farther than to certain 
 general duties, in which the collective wel- 
 fare of fociety is more particularly concern- 
 ed.
 
 LETTER XLVI. 229 
 
 ed. Whatever elfe is neceffary for the eafe 
 and happinefs of focial intercourfe, can be 
 derived only from the affiftance of religion ; 
 which influences the nicer connections and 
 dependencies of mankind, as it regulates and 
 corrects the heart. How many tyrannies 
 may I exercife as a parent, how many hard- 
 fhips may I inflict as a mafter, if I take the 
 ftatutes of my country for the only guides 
 of my actions, and think every thing lawful 
 that is not chilly penal? The truth is, a 
 man may be injured in a variety of in fiances 
 far more atrocicufly, than by what the law 
 considers either as a fraud or a robbery. 
 Now in cafes of {his kind (and many very 
 important cafes of this kind there are) to 
 remove the bars of religion, is to throw 
 open the gates of oppreflion : it is to leave 
 the honeft expofed to the injurious inroads 
 of thofe (and they are far, perhaps, the 
 greatett part of mankind) who, tho' they 
 would never do juftice and love mercy, in 
 compliance with the dictates of nature, 
 would fcrtipuloufiy practice both in obedi- 
 ence to the rules of revelation. 
 
 f 2 TlIE
 
 230 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 THE grofs of our fpecies can never, in- 
 deed be influenced by abftract reafoning, 
 nor captivated by the naked charms of vir- 
 tue : on the contrary, nothing feems more 
 evident than that the generality of mankind 
 mutt be engaged by fenfible objects j muft 
 be wrought upon by their hopes and fears. 
 And this has been the conftant maxim of 
 all the celebrated legiflators, from the earli- 
 eft eftablimment of government to this 
 prefent hour. It is true, none have con- 
 tended more warmly than the antients for 
 the dignity of human nature, and the na- 
 tive difpofition of the foul to be enamored 
 with the beauty of virtue : but it is equally 
 true, that none have more ftrenuoufly in- 
 culcated the expediency of adding the au- 
 thority of religion to the fuggeftions of na- 
 ture, and maintaining a reverence to the 
 appointed ceremonies of public wodhip, 
 The fentiments of Pythagoras (or whoever 
 he be who was author of thofe verfes which 
 pafs under that philofopher's name) are well 
 known upon this fubjecl: : 
 
 TljULZ. 
 
 MANY
 
 LETTER XLVI. 231 
 
 MANY indeed are the antient paflages 
 which might be produced infupport of this 
 alTertion, if it were necefiary to produce any 
 paflages of this kind to you, whom I have 
 fo often heard contend for the fame truth 
 with all the awakening powers of learning 
 and eloquence. Suffer me, however, for 
 the benefit of your acquaintance, to remind 
 you of one or two, which I do not remem- 
 ber ever to have fcen quoted. 
 
 LIVY has recorded a f^eech of Appius 
 Claudius Craflus, which he made in oppo- 
 fition to certain demands of the tribunes. 
 That zealous fenator warmly argues againft 
 admitting the plebeians into a fliare of the 
 confular dignity ; from the power of tak- 
 ing the aufpices being originally and folely 
 veiled in the patrician order. " But per- 
 " haps (fays Craffus) I {ball be told, that 
 * the pecking of a chicken, &c. are trifles 
 *' unworthy of regard : trifling, however, 
 c< as thefe ceremonies may now be deemed, 
 tc it was by the ftridt obfervance of them, 
 <f that our anceftors railed this common- 
 " wealth to its prefent point of grandeur." 
 Parva funt bac : fcd pan: a ijla non con- 
 ) major es nojlri maximam bane rem 
 Q 4 fecerunt,
 
 232 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 fecerunt. Agreeably to this principle, the 
 Roman hiftorian of the life of Alexander, 
 defences that monarch, after having killed 
 his friend Clitus, as confidering, in his cool 
 moments, whether the gods had not per- 
 mitted him to be guilty of that horrid a6t, 
 in puniihment for his irreligious neglect of 
 their facred rites. And Junenal * imputes 
 the fource of that torrent of vice which 
 broke in upon the age in which he wrote, 
 to the general difbelief that prevailed of 
 the public doctrines of their established re- 
 ligion. Thofe tenets, he tells us, that in- 
 fluenced the glorious conduct of the Curii, 
 the Scipios, the Fabricii, and the Camilli, 
 were, in his days, fo totally exploded, as 
 fcarce to be received even by children. It 
 were well for fome parts of the Chriftian 
 world, if the fame obfervation might not 
 with juftice be extended beyond the limits 
 of antient Rome : and I often reflect upon 
 the very judicious remark of a great writer 
 of the lait century, who takes notice, that 
 <f the generality of Chriftenddm is now 
 " well-nigh arrived at that fatal condition, 
 " which immediately preceded the dc- 
 * Sat. II. 149.
 
 LETTER XLVII. 233 
 
 " ftruclion of the worfhip of the antient 
 <c world; when the face of religion in their 
 cc public afTemblies was quite different from 
 " that apprehenfion which men had con- 
 f< cerning it in private." 
 ". NOTHING, moft certainly, could lefs 
 plead the fanclion of reafon, than the gene- 
 ral rites of pagan worfliip. Weak and ab- 
 furd, however, as they were in themfelves, 
 and indeed in the estimation too of all the 
 wifer fort; 5 T et the more thinking and judi- 
 cious parr, both of their ftatefmen and phi- 
 lofophers, unanimoufly concurred in fup- 
 porting them as facred and inviolable: well 
 perfuaded, no doubt, that religion is the 
 ftrongeft cement in the great firucture of 
 moral government. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER XLVII. 
 
 7*0 C L E O R A. 
 
 I LOOK upon every day wherein I have 
 not fome communication with my 
 Cleora, as a day loft ; and I take up my 
 pen every afternoon to write to you, as 
 
 regularly
 
 234 LETTER XLVII. 
 
 regularly as I drink my tea, or perform any 
 the like important article of my life. 
 
 I FREQUENTLY blefs the happy art 
 that affords me a means of conveying myfelf 
 to you at this diftance, and, by an eafy kind 
 of magic, thus tranfports me to your par- 
 lor at a time when I could not gain ad- 
 mittance by any other method. Of all people 
 in the world, indeed, none are more obliged 
 to this paper commerce, than friends and 
 lovers. It is by this they elude, in fome 
 degree, the malevolence of fate, and can 
 enjoy an intercourfe with each other, tho' 
 the Alps themfelves mould rife up between 
 them. Even this imaginary participation 
 of your fociety is far more pleafing to 
 me, than the real enjoyment of any other 
 converfation the whole world could fupply. 
 The truth is, I have loft all relim for any 
 but yours ; and if I were invited to an af- 
 lembly of all the wits of the Auguftan age, 
 or all the heroes that Plutarch has celebrated, 
 I mould neither have fpirits nor curiofity to 
 be of the party. Yet with all this indo- 
 lence or indifference about me, I would take 
 a voyage as far as the pole to fup with Cle- 
 ora on a lettuce, or only to hold the bowl 
 
 while
 
 LETTER XLVIII. 235 
 
 while (he mixed the fyllabub. Such happy 
 evenings I once knew : ah Cleora ! will 
 they never return ? Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XLVIII. 
 
 To ElJPHRONIUS. 
 
 I HAVE red the performance you com- 
 municated to me with all the attention 
 you required; and I can with ftri& (incerity 
 apply to your friend's verfes, what an anti- 
 ent has obferved of the fame number of 
 Spartans who defended the pafTage of Ther- 
 mopylae j nunquam 'vide phtres trecentos! 
 Never, indeed, was there greater energy of 
 language and fentiment united together in 
 the compafs of lines: and it would be an 
 injuftice to the world, as well as to himfelf, 
 to fupprefs fo animated and fo ufeful a com- 
 pofition. 
 
 A SATIRIST of true genius, who is 
 warmed by a generous indignation of vice, 
 and whofe cenfures are conducted by 
 candor and truth, merits the applaufe of 
 every friend to virtue. He may be confi- 
 dered as a fort of fupplement to the legif- 
 
 lativrc
 
 236 L E T-T E R XLVIII. 
 
 lativc authority of 'his country; as affifting 
 the unavoidable defects of all legal inftitu- 
 tions for regulating of manners, and ftrik- 
 ing terror even where the divine prohibi- 
 tions themfelves are held in contempt. The 
 ftrongeft defence, perhaps, againft the in- 
 roads of vice, among the more cultivated 
 part of our fpecies, is well directed ridicule: 
 they who fear nothing elfe, dread to be 
 marked out to the contempt and indigna- 
 tion of the world. There is no fucceeding 
 in the fecret purpofes of dimonefty, with- 
 out preferving fome fort of credit among 
 mankind ; as there cannot exift a more im- 
 : potent creature than a knave convict. To 
 cxpofe, therefore, the falfe pretenfions of 
 counterfeit virtue, is to difarm it at once of 
 all power of mifchief, and to perform a 
 public fervice of the moft advantageous 
 kind, in which any man can employ his 
 time and his talents. The voice, indeed, 
 of an honeft fatirift is not only beneficial 
 to the world, as giving an alarm againft 
 the d.efigns of an enemy fo dangerous to, 
 all focial intercourfe; but as proving like- 
 v/ife the moft efficacious preventive to. 
 others, of afluming the fame character of 
 
 diftinguimed
 
 LETTER XLVIIL 237 
 
 diftinguifhed infamy. Few are fo totally 
 vitiated, as to have abandoned all fentiments 
 of fhame j and when every other principle 
 of integrity is furrendered, we generally find 
 the conflict is ftill maintained in this laft poft 
 of retreating virtue. In this view, therefore, 
 it mould feem, the function of a fatirift 
 may be juftified, notwithftanding it mould 
 be true (what an excellent moraliil has af- 
 ferted) that his chaftifements rather exafpe- 
 rate, than reclaim thofe on whom they fall. 
 Perhaps* no human penalties are of any 
 moral advantage to the criminal himfelf : 
 and the principal benefit that feems to be 
 derived from civil punimments of any kind, 
 is their retraining influence upon the con- 
 duct of others. 
 
 IT is not every arm, however, that is 
 qualified to manage this formidable bow. 
 The arrows of fatire, when they are not 
 pointed by virtue, as well as wit, recoil 
 upon the hand that directs them, and 
 wound none but him from whom they 
 proceed. Accordingly, Horace refls the 
 whole fuccefs of writings of this fort upon 
 the poet's being Integer ipfe j free himfelf 
 from thofe immoral ftains which he points 
 
 cut
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 
 out in others. There cannot, indeed, be a 
 more odiou, nor at the fame time a more 
 contemptible character, than that of a vi- 
 lious fatirift : 
 
 ccelum terris non mifceat f mars ccelo t 
 Si fur dijpliceat Verri> homicida Miloni ? 
 
 Juv. 
 
 The moft favorable light in which a cenfor 
 of this fpecies could poffibly be viewed, 
 would be that of a public executioner, who 
 inflicts the punimment on others, which he 
 has already merited himfelf. But the truth 
 of it is, he is not qualified even for fo 
 wretched an office 5 and there is nothing to 
 be dreaded from a fatirift of known difho- 
 nefty, but his applaufe. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 70 PALE M E D E s. 
 
 is never more unwelcome 
 than at that feafon in which you will 
 probably have the greateft ihare of it; and 
 as I mould be extremely unwilling to add 
 to the number of thofe, who, in pure good- 
 
 manners,
 
 LETTER XLIX. 239 
 
 manners, may interrupt your enjoyments, 
 I chufe to give you my congratulations 
 a little prematurely. After the happy office 
 fhall be completed, your moments will 
 be too valuable to be laid out in forms; and 
 it would be paying you a compliment with 
 a very ill grace, to draw off your eyes from 
 the higheft beauty, though it were to turn 
 them on the moft exquifite wit. I hope, 
 however, you will give me timely notice 
 of your wedding day, that I may be pre- 
 pared with my epithalamium. I have al- 
 ready laid-in half a dozen deities extremely 
 proper for the occafion, and have even made 
 fome progrefs in my firft fimile. But lam 
 fomewhat at a lofs how to proceed, not 
 being able to determine whether your future 
 bride is moft like Venus or Hebe. That 
 fhe refembles both, is univerfally agreed, 
 I find, by thofe who have feen her. But 
 it would be offending, you know, againft 
 all the rules of poetical juftice, if I mould 
 only fay me is as handfome as fhe is young, 
 when after all, perhaps, the truth may be, 
 that (he has even more beauty than youth. 
 In the mean while, I am taming over all 
 the tender compliments that love has 5n- 
 
 fpired
 
 240 L E T T E R L. 
 
 fpired, from the Lefbia of Catullus to the 
 Chloe of Prior, and hope to gather fuch a> 
 collection of flowers as may not be unwor- 
 thy of entering into a garland compofed for 
 your Stella* But before you introduce me 
 as a poet, let me be recommended to her 
 by a much better title, and allure her, that 
 I am your, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER L. 
 
 To E U P H R O N I U S. 
 
 1AM much inclined to join with you in 
 thinking, that the Romans had no pecu- 
 liar word in their language, which anfwers 
 precifely to what we call good-fenfe in ours. 
 For tho' prudentla indeed feems frequently 
 ufed by their beft writers to exprefs that 
 idea, yet it is not confined to that iingle 
 meaning, but is often applied by them to 
 lignify fkill in any particular fcience. But 
 good-fenfe is fomething very diftinct from 
 knowledge j and it is an inftance of the po- 
 verty of the Latin language, that (he is 
 obliged to ufe the fame word as a mark for 
 two fuch remote ideas. 
 
 WERE
 
 L E T T E R L. 241 
 
 WERE I to explain what I underhand by 
 good-fenfe, I mould call it right reafon > 
 but right reafon that arifes, not from for- 
 mal and logical deductions, but from a fort 
 of intuitive faculty in the foul, which di- 
 ftinguimes by immediate perception : a kind 
 of innate fagacity, that in many of its pro- 
 perties feems very much to refemble in- 
 fHnct. It would be improper, therefore, 
 to fay, that Sir Ifaac Newton {hewed his 
 good-fenfe, by thofe amazing difcoveries 
 which he made in natural philofophy : the 
 operations of this gift of heaven are rather 
 inftantaneous, than the refult of any tedious 
 procefs. Like Diomed, after Minerva had 
 endowed him with the power of difcern- 
 ing gods from mortals, the man of good- 
 fenfe difcovers at ones the truth of thofe 
 objects he is moft concerned to diftinguifh ; 
 and conducts himfelf with fuitable caution 
 and fecurity. 
 
 IT is for this reafon, pofiibly, that this 
 quality of the mind is not fo often found 
 united with learning as one could widi ; for 
 good-fenfe being accuftomed to receive her 
 difcoveries without labor or ftudy, me can- 
 not fo eafily wait for thofe truths, which 
 R being
 
 242 LETTER L. 
 
 being placed at a diftance, and lying con- 
 cealed under numberlefs covers, require 
 much pains and application to unfold. 
 
 BUT tho' good-fenfe is not in the num- 
 ber, nor always, it muft be owned, in the 
 company of the fciences j yet is it (as the 
 moft fenfible of poets hasjuftly obferved) 
 
 fairly worth the feven. 
 Rectitude of underftanding is indeed the 
 moft ufeful, as well as the moft noble of 
 human endowments, as it is the fovereign 
 guide and director in every branch of civil 
 and focial intercourfe. 
 
 UPON whatever occafion this enlighten- 
 ing faculty is exerted, it is always fure to a<5t 
 with diftjnguimed eminence j but its chief 
 and peculiar province feems to lie in the 
 commerce of the world. Accordingly we 
 may obferve, that thofe who have conver- 
 led more with men than with books j 
 whofe wifdom is derived rather frcm ex- 
 perience than contemplation j generally pof- 
 fefs this happy talent with fuperior per- 
 fection. For good-fenfe, tho it cannot be 
 acquired, may be improved ; and the world, 
 I believe, will ever be found to afford the 
 moft kindly foil for its cultivation. 
 
 I KNOW
 
 L E T T E R LL 243 
 
 I KNOW not whether true good-fenfe 
 is not a more uncommon quality even than 
 true wit -, as there is nothing, perhaps, more 
 extraordinary than to meet with a perfon, 
 whofe entire conduct and notions are under 
 the direction of this fupreme guide. The 
 fingle inftance at leaft, which I could pro- 
 duce of its acting fteddily and invariably 
 throughout the whole of a character, is that 
 which Euphronius, I am fure, would not 
 allow me to mention : at the fame time, 
 perhaps, I am rendering my own preten- 
 iions of this kind extremely queftionable, 
 when I thus venture to throw before you 
 my fentiments upon a fubjecl:, of which 
 you are univerially acknowledged fo perfect 
 a mailer. I am, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER LI. 
 
 T0 P A L E M N. 
 
 May 2$, 1743. 
 
 I ESTEEM your letters in the number of 
 my moil valuable poiTerTions, and pre- 
 lerve them as fo many prophetical /eaves 
 upon which the fate of our diftracted nation 
 R 2 is
 
 244 LETTER LI. 
 
 is infcribed. But in exchange for the max- 
 ims of a patriot, I can only fend you the re- 
 veries of a reclufe, and give you the ftanes 
 of the brook for the gold of Ophir. Never, 
 indeed, Palemon, was there a commerce 
 more unequal, than that wherein you are 
 contented to engage with me : and I 
 could fcarce anfwer it to my confcience to 
 continue a traffic, where the whole benefit 
 accrues lingly to myfelf ; did I not know, 
 that to confer without the poflibility of an 
 advantage, is the moft pleafing exercife of 
 generofity. I will venture then to make 
 ufe of a privilege which I have long enjoy- 
 ed j as I well know you love to mix the 
 meditations of the philofopher wirh the 
 reflections of the ftatefman, and can turn 
 with equal relifti from the politics of Taci- 
 tus, to the morals of Seneca. 
 
 I WAS in my garden this morning fome- 
 what earlier than ufual, when the fun, as 
 Milton defcribes him, 
 
 With wheels yet hiring o'er the ocean brim 
 Shot parallel to t/f earth his dcivy ray. 
 
 There is fomething in the opening of the 
 dawn at this feafon of the year, that en- 
 livens
 
 L E T T E R LI. 245 
 
 livens the mind with a fort of chearful fe- 
 rioufnefs, and fills it with a certain calm 
 rapture in the confcioufnefs of its exiftence. 
 For my own part at leaft, the rifing of the 
 fun has the fame effed: on me, as it is faid 
 to have had on the celebrated ftatue of Me- 
 mnon : and I never obferve that glorious 
 luminary breaking forth, that I do not 
 find myfelf harmonized for the whole 
 day. 
 
 WHILST I was enjoying the frefhnefs 
 and tranquility of this early feafon, and 
 confidering the many reafons I had to join 
 in offering up that morning incenje^ which 
 the poet I juft now mentioned, reprefents 
 as particularly arifing at this hour from the 
 earttis great altar ; I could not but efteem 
 it as a principal bleffing, that I was enter- 
 ing upon a new day with health and fpirits. 
 To awake with recruited vigor for the tranf- 
 adlions of life, is a mercy fo generally dif- 
 penfed, that it pafies, like other the ordi- 
 nary bounties of Providence, without mak- 
 ing its due impreffion. Yet were one never 
 to rife under thefe, happy ci re urn fiances, 
 without reflecting what numbers there are, 
 who (to ufe the language of the moft pa- 
 R 3 thetic
 
 246 LETTER LI. 
 
 thetic of authors) when they faid, My bed 
 fiall comfort me, my couch foall cafe my com- 
 plaint y were, like him, full of tojjings to 
 and fro, unto the dawning of the day, or 
 feared with dreams, and terrified thro' vijions 
 were one to confider, I fay, how many 
 pafs their nights in all the horrors of a dif- 
 turbed imagination, or all the wakefulnefs 
 of real pains, one could not find one's felf 
 exempt from fuch uneafy (lumbers or fuch 
 terrible vigils, without double fatisfadtion 
 and gratitude. There is nothing, indeed, 
 contributes more to render a man content- 
 ed with that draught of life which is pour- 
 ed out to himfelf, than thus to reflect on 
 thofe more bitter ingredients which are 
 fometimes mingled in the cup of others. 
 
 IN purfuing the fame vein of thought 
 I could not but congratulate myfelf, that 
 I had no part in that turbulent drama which 
 was going to be re-acted upon the great 
 (tage of the world j and rejoiced that it 
 was my fortune to (land a diftant and un- 
 engaged fpectator of thofe feveral chara- 
 cters that would fhortly fill the fcene. This 
 fuggefted to my remembrance a paflage 
 in the Roman tragic poet, where he de- 
 
 fcribes
 
 LETTER LI. 247 
 
 fcribes the various purfuits of the bufy and 
 ambitious world, in very juft and lively 
 colors : 
 
 Hie Juperbos additus regum 
 Durajque fores, expers fomnij 
 Cdit : Hie nullo fine be at us 
 Componit opes, gazis inbians, 
 Et congefto pauper in auro eft. 
 Ilium populi favor attonitum^ 
 Fluctuque magis mobili vulgus, 
 Aura tumidum tollit inani. 
 Hie clamq/i rabiojafori 
 Jurgia vendens improbus, iras 
 Et verba heat. 
 
 and I could not forbear faying to myfelf, 
 in the language of the fame author, 
 
 me mea tellus 
 Larefecreto tutoque tegat ! 
 
 Yet this circumftance, which your friend 
 confiders as fo valuable a privilege, has been 
 efteemed by others as the moft; fevere of 
 afflictions. The celebrated count de BufTy 
 Rabutin has written a little treatife, where- 
 in after having iliewn that the greateft 
 men upon the ftage of the world are ge- 
 R * nerallv
 
 248 L E T T E R LI. 
 
 nerally the moft unhappy, he clofes the 
 account by producing himfelf as an inftance 
 of the truth of what he had been advan- 
 cing. But can you guefs, Paiemon, what 
 this terrible difafter was, which thus 
 entitled him to rank among thefe un- 
 fortunate heroes? He had compofed, it 
 feems, certain fatirical pieces which gave 
 offence to Louis the XIV th j for which 
 reafon that monarch banifhed him from 
 the flavery and dependance of a court, to 
 live in eafe and freedom at his country 
 houfe. But the world had taken too ftrong 
 poffeffion of his heart, to fuffer him to 
 leave even the worft part of it without re- 
 luctance ; and, like the patriarch's wife, he 
 looked back with regret upon the fcene 
 from which he was kindly driven, tho' there 
 was nothing in the profpcft but flames. 
 Adieu. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 249 ] 
 LETTER LII. 
 
 To EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 SURE LY, Euphronius, the fpirit of 
 criticifm has ftrangely pofleffed you. 
 How elfe could you be willing to ftep afide 
 fo often from the amufements of the gay eft 
 fcenes, in order to examine with me cer- 
 tain beauties far other than thofe which at 
 prefent, it might be imagined, would wholly 
 engage your attention ? Who, indeed, that 
 fees my friend over- night fupporting the 
 vivacity of the moft fprightly aflemblies, 
 would expect to find him the next morn- 
 ing gravely poring over antiquated Greek, 
 and weighing the merits of antient and 
 modern geniufes ? But I have long admi- 
 red you as an elegant fpeffiator Jormarum^ 
 in every fenfe of the exprefiion : and you 
 can turn, I know, from the charms of 
 beauty to thofe of wit, with the fame re- 
 finement of tafte and rapture. I may ven- 
 ture therefore to refume our critical corre- 
 fpondence without the form of an apok>gy; 
 as it is the fingular character of Euphro- 
 nius,
 
 250 LETTER LII. 
 
 nius, to reconcile the philofopher with the 
 man of the world, and judicioufly divide 
 his hours between adion and retirement. 
 
 WHAT has been faid of a celebrated 
 French tranflator, may with equal juflice 
 be applied to Mr. Pope, " that it is doubt- 
 " ful whether the dead or the living are 
 " moft obliged to- him." His tranlktions 
 of Homer, and imitations of Horace, have 
 introduced to the acquaintance of the Eng- 
 li(h reader, two of the moft confiderable 
 authors in all antiquity : as indeed they 
 are equal to the credit of fo many original 
 works. A man muft have a very confider- 
 able (hare of the different fpirit which di- 
 ftinguimes thofe moft admirable poets, who 
 is capable of reprefenting in his own lan- 
 guage, fo true an image of their refpeclive 
 manners. If we look no farther than thefe 
 works themfelves, without confidering them 
 with refpect to any attempts of the fame 
 nature which have been made by others, 
 we {hall have fufficient reafon to efteem 
 them for their own intrific merit. But 
 how will this uncommon genius rife in our 
 admiration, when we compare his clafiical 
 tranflations with thofe fimilar performances, 
 
 which
 
 LETTER LII. 251 
 
 which have employed fome of the mofl 
 celebrated of our poets ? I have lately been 
 turning over the Iliad with this view : and 
 perhaps, it will be nounentertainingamufe- 
 ment to you, to examine the feveral copies 
 which 1 have collected of the original, as 
 taken by fome of the rnoft confiderable of 
 our Englifh mafters. To (ingle them out 
 for this purpofe according to the order of 
 the particular books, or paffages, upon 
 which they have refpectively exercifed their 
 pencils j the pretenfions of Mr. Tickel ftand 
 nrft to be examined. 
 
 THE action of the Iliad opens, you know, 
 with the fpeech of Chryfes, whofe daugh- 
 ter, having been taken captive by the Gre- 
 cians, was allotted to Agamemnon. This 
 venerable pried of Apollo is reprefented as 
 addreffing himfelf to the Grecian chiefs, 
 in the following pathetic fimplicity of elo- 
 quence : 
 
 Great
 
 252 LETTER LIT. 
 
 Great Atreus' Jons and war like Greece, attend: 
 So may tb' immortal Gods your caufe defend, 
 So may you Priam s lofty bulwarks burn, 
 And rich in gather 1 d fpoils to Greece return^ 
 As, for thtfe gifts, my daughter you beftow, 
 And rev fence due to great Apollo Jhew, 
 yove'sfav'rite offspring, terrible in 'war, 
 Who fends hisfiafts unerring from afar. 
 
 TICKEL. 
 
 That affecting tcndernefs of the father, 
 which Homer has marked out by the me- 
 lancholy flow of the line, as well as by the 
 endearing expreffion of 
 
 is entirely loft by Mr. Tickel. When 
 Chryfes coldly mentions his daughter, with- 
 out a fingle epithet of concern or affedtion, 
 he feems much too indifferent himfelf to 
 move the audience in his favor. But the 
 whole paffage as it ftands in Mr. Pope's 
 Iliad, is in general animated with a far more 
 lively fpirit of poetry. Who can obferve 
 the moving pofture of fupplication in which 
 he has drawn the venerable old prieft, 
 (Iretching out his arms in all the affect- 
 ing
 
 LETTER LII. 253 
 
 ing warmth of intreaty, without fliaring in 
 his diftrefs, and melting into pity ? 
 
 Te kings and warriors ! may your vows be 
 
 crowrfd, 
 
 AndTroy's proud walls He level with the ground: 
 May yove rejlore you when your toils are o'er. 
 Safe to the pleafures of your native Jhore : 
 But y oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain. 
 And give Chryfeis to thefe arms again. 
 If mercy fail, yet let my prefents move, 
 And dread avenging Phoebus, fon of Jove. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 The infinuation with which Chryfes clofes 
 his fpeech, that the Grecians muft expect 
 the indignation of Apollo would purfue 
 them if they rejected the petition of his 
 prieft, is happily intimated by a fingle epi- 
 thet : 
 
 And dread avenging Phtzbus j 
 
 whereas the other tranflator takes the com- 
 pafs of three lines to exprefs the fame 
 thought lefs ftrongly. 
 
 WHEN the heralds are fent by Agamem- 
 non to Achilles, in order to demand Bri- 
 fei's -, that chief is prevailed upon to part 
 
 with
 
 254 L E T T E R LIT. 
 
 with her : and accordingly directs Patroclus 
 to deliver up this contefted beauty into 
 their hands; 
 
 ^arji fr'cty&iv' TO &' cciili: 
 
 H ^' a&wi a,fj(g. TLJOI y^vn iu*v' i. 345- 
 
 The beauty of Brifeis as defcribed in thefe 
 lines, together with the reluctance with 
 which fhe is here reprefented as forced from 
 her lord, cannot but touch the reader in a 
 very fenfible manner. Mr. Tickel, how- 
 ever, has debafed this affecting picture, by 
 the moft unpoetical and familiar diction. 
 I will not delay you with making my ob- 
 jections in form to his language , but have 
 dhtinguimed the exceptionable expreffions, 
 in the lines themfelves : 
 
 Patroclus his dear friend oblig'd, 
 And ufher'd in the lovely weeping maid; 
 Sore figh'd me, as the heralds took her hand, 
 Aid oft look'd back, JJow moving o'er the 
 
 Jlrand. TICKEL. 
 
 Our Britim Homer has reftored this piece to 
 jts original grace and delicacy : 
 
 Patroclus
 
 LETTER LIL 255 
 
 Patrcclus now fb' unwilling beauty brought : 
 She, infoft for rows, and in pe?2/ive thought ; , 
 Pafs y dfilent y as the heralds held her hand, 
 And oft look'd back, Jlow moving o'er the 
 Jlrand. Popfc. 
 
 THE tumultuous behaviour of Achilles, 
 as defcribed by Homer in the lines imme- 
 diately following, afford a very pleafing and 
 natural contrail to the more compofed and 
 filent forrow of Brifeis. The poet repre- 
 fents that hero as fuddenly ruming out from 
 his tent, and flying to the fea-more, where 
 he gives vent to his indignation; and in 
 bitternefs of foul complains to Thetis, not 
 only of the dimonor brought upon him by 
 Agamemnon, but of the injuftice even of 
 Jupiter himfelf : 
 
 &c. 
 
 Mr. Tickel, in rendering the fenfe of thefe 
 lines, has rifen into a fomewhat higher flight 
 of poetry than ufual. However, you will 
 
 obferve
 
 256 LETTER LII. 
 
 obferve his expreffion in one or two places 
 is exceedingly languid and profaical ; as the 
 epithet he has given to the waves is highly 
 injudicious. 
 
 'The wid&afd hero, when the fair was gone, 
 Far from his friends fat battid in tears, alone. 
 On the cold beach he fate, and fix' d his eyes 
 Where, black with ftorms, the curling billows 
 
 rife. 
 
 And as the fea wide rolling hefuriiefd. 
 With out-ftrectid arms to his fond mother 
 
 pray'd. - TICKEL. 
 
 Curling billows might be very proper in de- 
 fcribing a calm, but fuggefts too pleating an 
 image to be applied to the ocean when re- 
 prefented as black with Jlorms. Mr. Pope 
 has opened the thought in thefe lines with 
 great dignity of numbers, and exquifite pro- 
 priety of imagination j as the additional cir- 
 cumftances he has thrown in, are fo many 
 beautiful improvements upon his author ; 
 
 Not Jo his lofs the fierce Achilles bore : 
 But fad retiring to the founding foore> 
 O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung t 
 'That kindred deep from which his mother 
 
 fprung : 
 
 Then
 
 LETTER LII. 257 
 
 "Then battid in tear -s of anger and difdain^ 
 'Thus loud lamented to the ft or my main. POPE 
 
 APOLLO having fent a plague among the 
 Grecians, in refent merit of the injury done 
 to his prieft Chryfes by detaining his daugh- 
 ter j Agamemnon confents that Chryfcis 
 fhall be reftored. Accordingly a fhip is 
 fitted out under the command of UlyfTes, 
 who is employed to conduct the damfel to 
 her father. That hero and his companions 
 being arrived at Chryfa, the place to which 
 they were bound, deliver up their charge ; 
 and having performed a facrifice to Apollo, 
 fet fail early the next morning for the Gre- 
 cian camp. Upon this occafion Homer ex- 
 hibits to us a moil beautiful fea-piece : 
 
 A/] 
 
 (paw 
 
 O< $ 
 
 ' ctjt/,$i 
 
 H <?' && 
 
 . 475. 
 
 S If
 
 258 LETTER LII. 
 
 If there is any paflage throughout Mr. Tick- 
 el's tranflation of this book, which has the 
 leaft pretence to (land in competition with 
 Mr. Pope's verfion -, it is undoubtedly that 
 which correfponds with the Greek lines 
 juft now quoted. It would indeed be an 
 inftance of great partiality not to acknow- 
 ledge, they breathe the true fpirit of po- 
 etry ; and I muft own myfelf at a lofs which 
 to prefer upon the whole ; tho' I think 
 Mr. Pope is evidently fuperior to his rival, 
 in his manner of opening the defcription : 
 
 At evening thro* tbeJJiore difpersdthey Jleep, 
 Hujtid by the diftant roarings of the deep. 
 When now afcending from theJJjades of night, 
 Aurora glow'd in all her rofy light > f 
 Ihe daughter of the dawn : th* awaken* d crew 
 Back to theGreeksencamp'dtheircourfe renew. 
 The breezes frejhen: for with friendly gales 
 Apollo fweird their wide-dijle?2ded fails ; 
 Cleft by the rapid prow the waves divide, 
 And in hoarfe murmurs break on either Jide. 
 
 TICKEL. 
 
 )c fwas night : the chiefs befide their vejfellie, 
 Till rojy morn had purpled o'er the Jky : 
 
 then
 
 LETTER LII. 259 
 
 7 'ken launch, andhoifetbenwjl\ indulgent gale s> 
 Supply d by Pbabus^fdl the fuelling fails ; 
 The milk-white canvas bellying as they blew, 
 'The parted ocean foams and roars be lew : 
 Above the bounding billows fivift they few, 
 &c. POPE. 
 
 There is fomething wonderfully pleafing 
 in that judicious paufe, which Mr. Pope 
 has placed at the beginning of thefe lines. 
 It ncceflarily awakens the attention of the 
 reader and gives a much greater air of fo- 
 lemnity to the fcene, than if the circum- 
 ftance of the time had been lefs diftinctly 
 pointed out, and blended, as in Mr.Tickel's 
 tranflation, with the reft of the defcription. 
 HOMER has been celebrated by an- 
 tiquity, for thofe fublime images of the 
 fupreme being, which he fo often raifes in 
 the Iliad. It is Macrobius, if I remember 
 right, who informs us, that Fhidias being 
 aiked from whence he took the idea of his 
 celebrated ftatue of Olympian Jupiter, ac- 
 knowledged that he had heated his ima- 
 gination by the following lines : 
 
 H 
 
 opp'Jcn 
 
 82
 
 LETTER LII. 
 
 1. 52S. 
 
 But whatever magnificence of imagery Phi- 
 dias might difcover in the original j the 
 Englifh reader will fcarce, I imagine, con* 
 ceive any thing very grand and fublime from 
 the following copy : 
 
 Thisfaid, his kingly brow the fire inclined, 
 The large black curls fell awful from behind. 
 Thick fhadowing the ftern forehead of the god: 
 Olympus trembled at t/f almighty nod. 
 
 TlCKEL. 
 
 That our modern ftatuaries, however, may 
 not have an excufe for burlefquing the fi- 
 gure of the great father of gods and men, 
 for want of the benefit of fo animating a 
 model, Mi- Pope has preferved it for them 
 in all its original majefty : 
 
 Hefpoke, and awful bends his fable brows ; 
 Shakes his ambrofial curls ana 1 gives the nod-, 
 The /lamp of fate, and function of the god: 
 High beav'n with trembling the dread Jlgnal 
 
 took, 
 And all Olympus to the centre flook. POPE. 
 
 J TOOK
 
 LETTER LII. 261 
 I TOOK occafion in a former letter, to 
 make fome exceptions to a paflage or two 
 in the parting of Hector and Andromache, 
 as tranflated by your favorite poet. I (hall 
 now produce a few lines from the fame 
 beautiful epifode for another purpofe, and 
 in order to fhew, with how much more 
 mafterly a hand, even than Dryden himfelf, 
 our great improver of Englim poetry has 
 worked upon the fame fubject. 
 
 As Andromache is going to the tower of 
 llion, in order to take a view of the field of 
 battle, Hector meets her, together with her 
 fon the young Aftyanax, at the Scaean gate. 
 The circumftances of this fudden interview 
 are finely imagined. Hector in the firft 
 tranfport of his joy is unable to utter a fingle 
 word, at the fame time that Andromache 
 tenderly embracing his hands, burfts, out 
 into a flood of tears : 
 
 J<$W 
 
 rr CL&C/L 01 $v %&&> fcTTCS T gipar, T 
 
 vi. 404. 
 
 Dryden has tranflated this paflage with a 
 S '3 cold
 
 262 LETTER LII. 
 
 cold and unpoetical fidelity to the mere 
 letter of the original : 
 
 Heftor beheld him 'with a ft lent finite, 
 His tender wife flood 'weeping by the while, 
 Preffed in her own his warlike hand fie took^ 
 Thenfigtid and thus prophetically fpoke. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Bat Pope has judicioufly taken a larger com- 
 pafs, and by heightening the piece with a 
 few additional touches, has wrought it up 
 in all the affecting fpirit of tendernefs and 
 poetry : 
 
 Silent the warrior fmil'd, and pleas' d ref.gn* d 
 To tender pajpons all his mighty mind : 
 His beauteous princefs caft a mournful look, 
 Hung on his hand y and then dejefted Jpoke ; 
 Her bofom labor d with a boding figh, 
 And the big tear Jiood trembling in her eye. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 Andromache afterwards endeavors to per- 
 fuade Hector to take upon himfelf the de- 
 fence of the city, and not hazard a life fo 
 important, me tells him, to herfelf and his 
 fon, in the more dangerous action of the 
 field:
 
 LETTER LII. 263 
 
 Tw ' a 
 H r 
 
 vi. 440. 
 
 To whom the noble He&or thus reply -d: 
 'That and the reft are in my daily care : 
 But Jbiuld I /hun the dangers of the war, 
 Witbfcorn the 'Trojans would reward my pains , 
 And their proud ladies with their fweeping 
 
 trains. 
 
 The Grecian f words and lances I can bear : 
 But lofs of honor is my only care. DRYD. 
 
 Nothing can be more flat and unanimated 
 than thefe lines. One may fay upon this 
 occafion, what Dryden himfelf, I remem- 
 ber, fomewhere obferves, that a good poet 
 is no more like himfelf in a dull trar.flation, 
 than his dead carcafe would be to his living 
 body. To catch indeed the foul of our 
 Grecian bard, and breathe his fpirit into an 
 Englidi verfion, feems to have been a pri- 
 vilege referved foiely for Pope : 
 The chief reply d: That poft Jhall be ?ny care-, 
 Nor that clone y but all the works of war. 
 
 8.4 How
 
 264 LETTER LII. 
 
 How would the Jons of Troy, In arms re- 
 
 nywn'd, 
 And Troy's proud dames, whofe garments 
 
 jweep the ground,, 
 
 Attaint the luflure of my former name. 
 Should Heft or bafely quit the folds of fame ? 
 
 POPE. 
 
 IN the farther profecution of this epifode 
 He&or prophefies his own death, and the 
 deftruction of Troy ; to which he adds, 
 that Andromache fhould be led captive in- 
 to Argos, where, among other difgraceful 
 offices which he particularly enumerates, 
 fhe mould be employed, he tells her, in the 
 fervile task of drawing water. The dif- 
 ferent manner in which this laft circum- 
 ftance is exp.effed by our two Englim poets 
 will afford the ilroogeft inftance, how much 
 additional force the fame thought will re- 
 ceive from a more graceful turn of phrafe : 
 Or from deep Dwells the living ftream to take^ 
 And on thy weary Jhoulders brin% it back. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 or bring 
 
 Tbe weight of waters from Hyperia'&fpring. 
 
 POPE. 
 ft
 
 LETTER LII. 265 
 
 It is in certain peculiar turns of didlion that 
 the language of poetry is principally diftin- 
 guifhed from that of profe ; as indeed the 
 fame words are, in general, common to them 
 both. It is in a turn of this kind, that the 
 beauty of the laft quoted line confifts. For 
 the whole grace of the expreffion would 
 vanim, if, inftead of the two fubftantives 
 which are placed at the beginning of the 
 vcrfe, the poet had employed the more 
 common fyntax of a fubflantive with its 
 adjective. 
 
 When this faithful pair have taken their 
 final adieu of each other, Hedor returns to 
 the field of battle, at the fame time that the 
 difconfolate Andromache joins her maidens 
 in the palace. Homer defcribes this circum- 
 ftance in the following tender manner : 
 
 At jj#v tn ^uu yiv E%1o&t & w o<xa. vi. 494 
 
 J will make no remarks upon the different 
 
 fuccefs
 
 266 LETTER LII. 
 
 fuccefs of our two celebrated poets in tranf- 
 lating this pafTage j but, after having laid 
 both before you, leave their verfions tofpeak. 
 for themfelves. The truth is, the difparity 
 between them is much too vifible to require 
 any comment to render it more obfervable : 
 
 At tins for new replies be did not flay, 
 But lac'd his crefled helm, andftrode away. 
 His lovely confort to her koufe returned, 
 And looking often back, in filence mourn d : 
 Home wkenjhe came, herfecret -woe foe vents, 
 And fills the palace 'with her loud laments. 
 Thoje loud laments her echoing maids rejlore, 
 And Heftor, yet alive, as dead deplore. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Thus having J aid, the glorious chief re fumes 
 Histow'ry helmet, black with fiading plumes. 
 His princefs parts ivith a prophetic Jigh, 
 Unwilling parts, and eft reverts her eye, 
 *That ftream' d at ev'ryhok : then moving flow, 
 Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. 
 "There, while her tear sdeplord the godlike man, 
 Thro' all the train thefoft infettion ran -, 
 The pious maids their mingled forrow Jhed, 
 And mourn the living HecJor as the dead. 
 
 POPE. 
 As
 
 LETTER LII. 267 
 
 As I purpofe to follow Mr. Pope thro* 
 thofc feveral parts of the Iliad, where any of 
 our diftinguifhed poets have gone before 
 him ; I muft lead you on till we come to 
 the fpeech of Sarpedon to Glaucus, in the 
 xii th Book. 
 
 TIV r) va 
 
 E<^ff Tfc, Xf>i<X.< 
 
 Ey 
 
 T^ -zsriorx 
 
 T* S^a^TCV, ^A/yi^cCZ* AA' 
 
 , g-TTCi A^yjOJJI ^gTZZ TTpCOTCiai //aC 
 
 8T5 ^ 
 
 <re^Aoj/jw ZM ^ x 
 
 %0$ QecofASV, Yfs. TIC 
 
 xii 310. 
 This
 
 268 LETTER LII. 
 
 This fpiri-cd fpeech has been tranflated by 
 the famous author of Cooper's Hill : 
 
 the reft why is our p: tv> t> andpow'r? 
 Our flocks, our herds, and our pojjej/ions more? 
 Wby all the tributes land andjea affords, 
 Ileap'd in great chargers, load ourfumptuous 
 
 boards ? 
 
 Our chearful guejls caroufe the fparkling tears 
 Of the rich grape jwbilft miific charms, their ears. 
 Why, as we pajs> do thofe on Xanthus' J/jore 
 As gods behold us, and as gods adore ? 
 But that, as well in danger as degree, 
 Wejlandthefirjl : that when our Ly dans fee 
 Our brave examples, they admiring Jay, 
 Behold our gallant leaders ! thefe are they 
 Dejerve their greatnefs ; and unenvfdftand, 
 Since what they aft tranfcends what they 
 
 command. 
 
 Could the declining of this fate, ch ! friend, 
 Our date to immortality extend, 
 Or if death fought not them, whofeeknot death, 
 Would I advance ? orficuld my vainer breath 
 With fuch a glorious folly /bee injpire? 
 But fine e with fortune nature doth confpire ; 
 Since age, difcafe, or fome lefs noble end, 
 Tbo' not lefs certain, does our days attend-, 
 
 Since
 
 LETTER LII. 269 
 
 Since 'tis decreed y and to this period lead 
 A thoujand ways, the noblefl path we II tread-, 
 And bravely on, till they, or we, or all 
 A common facrifae to honour fall. 
 
 DENHAM, 
 
 Mr. Pope paffes fo high an encomium 
 On thefe lines, as to afTure us, that, if his 
 tranflation of the fame pafTage has any fpir 
 rit, it is in fome degree due to them. It 
 is certain they have great merit, confidering 
 the ftate of our Englim verification when 
 Denham florifhed : but they will by no 
 means fupport Mr. Pope's compliment, any 
 more than they will bear to {land in compe- 
 tition with his numbers. And I dare fay, 
 you will join with me in the fame opinion, 
 when you confider the following verfion of 
 this animated fpeech : 
 
 boa ft we, Glaucus, our extended reign, 
 Where Xanthus* Jlr earns enrich the Lycian 
 
 plain ? 
 
 Our numerous herds that range thefruitfuljield, 
 And hi Us where vines their pur pie harveft yield ? 
 Ourjoaming bowls with purer netfarcrowri'd, 
 Our feafts enhanced with mufjc's fprightly 
 found ? 
 
 Wh
 
 2 ;o LETTER LII, 
 
 Why on thefe ftores are we with joy furvey'd, 
 Admired as heroes , and as gods obefd? 
 Unlefs great aftsfuperior merit prove. 
 And vindicate the bounteous, powers above ; 
 That when with wond'ring eyes our martial 
 
 bands 
 
 'Behold our deeds tranfcending our commands, 
 Such, they may cry, deferve the fov' reign Jlate, 
 Whom thofe that envy dare not imitate. 
 Could all our care elude the gloomy grave. 
 Which claims no lefs the fearful than the brave, 
 For luft of fame Ifoould not vainly dare 
 Infighting fields, nor urge thy foul to war. 
 Butjince, alas ! ignoble age mujl come, 
 Difeafe, and death's inexorable doom j 
 The life, which others pay, let us beftow, 
 And give to fame what we to nature owe ; 
 Brave tho* we fall, and honored if we life, 
 Or let us glory gain, or glory give. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 IF any thing can be juflly objected to 
 this tranilation, it is, perhaps, that in one 
 or two places it is too diftufed and defcri- 
 ptive for that agitation in which it was 
 fpoken. In general, however, one may ven- 
 ture to affert, that it is Warmed with the 
 
 fame
 
 LETTER LII. 271 
 
 fome ardor of poetry and heroifm that glows 
 in the original ; as thofe feveral thoughts, 
 which Mr. Pope has intermixed of his own, 
 naturally arife out of the fentiments of his 
 author, and are perfectly conformable to the 
 character and circumftances of the fpeaker. 
 
 I SAHLL clofe this review with Mr. 
 Congreve ; who has tranilated the petition 
 of Priam to Achilles for the body of his 
 fon Hector, together with the lamentations 
 of Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen. 
 
 HOMER reprefents the unfortunate king 
 of Troy, as entering unobferved into the 
 tent of Achilles ; and illuftrates the furprize 
 which arofe in that chief and his attendants, 
 upon the firft difcovery of Priam, .by the 
 following firnile : 
 
 15 
 
 XXIV. 480. 
 
 Nothing can be more languid and inelegant 
 than the manner in which Congreve has 
 rendered this paffage : 
 
 But
 
 272 LETTER LII. 
 
 But as a 'wretch \ who has a murder done> 
 And fee king refuge, does from juftice run -, 
 Entering fome houfe, in hafte, 'where he's un~ 
 
 known, 
 
 Creates amazement in the lookers on : 
 So did Achilles gaze,furpriz y d to fee 
 The godlike Priam s royal mifery. CONG. 
 
 But Pope has raifed the fame thought with 
 his ufual grace and fpirit : 
 
 As when a wretch, who, confcious of his crime, 
 Purfudfor murder, flies his native clime, 
 Juft gains fome frontier, breathlefs, pale^ 
 
 amazd ! 
 
 All gaze, all wonder :- thus Achilles gaz'd. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 The fpeech of Priam is wonderfully 
 pathetic and affecling. He tells Achilles, 
 that out of fifty fons, he had one only re- 
 maining ; and of him he was now unhappi- 
 ly bereaved by his fword. He conjures him 
 by his tendernefs for his own father, to com- 
 miferate the moft wretched of parents ; 
 who, by an uncommon feverity of fate, 
 was thus obliged to kifs thofe hands which 
 were imbrued in the blood of his children : 
 
 ra
 
 LETTER LII. 273 
 
 VYlCU 
 
 AAA' fl^frio o^ac, A^Afc!;, OLVTLV r 
 MMflttyi* 
 
 ErAw i^', 
 
 v. 501. 
 
 THESE moving lines Mr. Congreve has 
 debafed into the lowed and moil unafteft- 
 ing profe : 
 
 For his fake only I am hither come - y 
 Rich gifts I bring, and wealth, an endlefsfum-, 
 All to redeem that fatal prize you won, 
 Aworthlefs ranfomforfo brave a fon. 
 Fear thejuft gods, Achilles, and on me 
 With pity look, think, you your father fee : 
 Such as I am, he is j alone in this 
 I can no equal have in mijeries \ 
 Of all mankind mofl "wretched andforlorne, 
 Bow'd withjuch weight as never has been borne 
 Reducdto kneel and pray to y on, from whom 
 Tbefpring and four ce of all r.iy jbrrows come ; 
 With gifts to court mine and my country's 
 
 bane, 
 
 And ki/s thofe hands which have my children 
 jlain, CON OR EVE. 
 
 T Nothing
 
 274 LETTER LII. 
 
 Nothing could co^penfate the trouble of 
 laboring through thefe heavy and taftelefs 
 rhimes, but the plcafure of being relieved 
 at the end of them with a more lively prof- 
 pel of poetry : 
 
 For him thro hojlile camps I bent my way, 
 For him thus proflrate at thy feet 1 lay ; 
 Large gifts proportioned to thy wrath I bear ; 
 O hear the wretched, and the gods revere ! 
 'think of thy father, and this face behold! 
 See him in me, as helplefs and as old ! 
 Tho 1 not fo wretched : there he yields to me, 
 The firft of men in foil reign mifery ; 
 'Thus forced to kneel, thus growling to embrace 
 Thefcourge and ruin of my realm and race : 
 Suppliant my children's murd'rer to implore, 
 And kifs thofe hands yet reeking with their 
 gore. POPE. 
 
 ACHILLES having at length confented to 
 reftore the dead body of Hector, Priam 
 condu&s it to his palace. It is there placed 
 in funeral pomp, at the fame time that 
 mournful dirges are fung over the corpfe, 
 intermingled with the lamentations of An- 
 dromache, Hecuba, and Helen : 
 
 7CV
 
 LETTER LII. , 275 
 
 7CV /UUiV 
 
 <S*cy,v t 
 
 < j^7 op &p/;i/aor, fc-7n i 
 
 V. 7 i 9 . 
 
 There is fomething extremely folemn and 
 affeding in Homer's defcription of this fcene 
 of forrow : a tranilator, who was touched 
 with the leaft fpark of poetry, could not, 
 one fliould imagine, but rife beyond him- 
 felf, in copying after fo noble an original. 
 It has not, however, been able to elevate 
 Mr. Congreve above his ufual flatnefs of 
 numbers : 
 
 then laid 
 
 With care the body on a fumptuous bedj 
 And round about were Jkilful fingers placed, 
 Who wept andjigh'd, and in fad notes exprefs'd 
 Their moan : All in a Chorus did agree 
 Of univerfa/, mournful harmony. 
 
 CONGREVE. 
 
 IT would be the higheft injuftice to the 
 following lines to quote them in opposition 
 to thofe of Mr. Congreve: I produce them, 
 as marked with a vein of poetry much fu- 
 perior even to the original : 
 
 T 2 Tl-ev
 
 276 LETTER LII. 
 
 They weep, and place him on a bed of ft ate. 
 
 A melancholy choir attend around 
 
 With plaintive Jighs and mufic's folemn found. 
 
 Alternately they fing, alternate flow 
 
 Th* obedient tears, melodious in their woe j 
 
 While deeper forrows groan from each full 
 
 heart, 
 
 And nature fpeaks at every paufe of art. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 THUS, Euphronius, I have brought be- 
 fore youfomeof the moft renowned of our 
 Britifti bards, contending, as it were, for 
 the prize of poetry : and there can be no 
 debate to whom it juftly belongs. Mr. Pope 
 feems, indeed, to have raifed our numbers 
 to the higheft poffible perfe&ion of ftrength 
 and harmony : And, I fear, all the praife 
 that the beft fucceeding poets can expert, 
 as to their verfification, will be, that they 
 have happily imitated his manner. I am, 
 Sec. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 277 
 LETTER LIII. 
 
 1*0 O R N T E S. 
 
 YOUR letter found me jufl upon my 
 return from an exctirfion into Berk- 
 mire, where I had been paying a vifit to a 
 friend, who is drinking the waters at Sun- 
 ning-hill. In one of my morning rides over 
 that delightful country, I accidentally paffed 
 thro* a little village, which afforded me 
 much agreeable meditation ; as in times to 
 come, perhaps, it will be vifited by the lo- 
 vers of the polite arts, with as much vene- 
 ration as Virgil's tomb, or any other celebra- 
 ted fpot of antiquity. The place I mean is 
 Binfield, where the poet to whom I am in- 
 debted (in common with every reader of 
 tafte) for fo much cxquifite entertainment, 
 fpent the earlieft part of his youth. I will 
 not fcruple to confefs that I looked upon the 
 fcene where he planned fome of thofe beau- 
 tiful performances which firft recommend- 
 ed him to the notice of the world, with a 
 degree of enthufiafm : and could not but 
 ponfider the ground as facred that was im- 
 T 3 pretfed
 
 278 LETTER LIII. 
 
 prefled with the footfteps of a genius that 
 undoubtedly does the higheft honor to our 
 age and nation. 
 
 THE fituation of mind in which I found 
 myfelf upon this occafion, fuggefted to my 
 remembrance a pafTage in Tully, which I 
 thought I never fo thoroughly entered into 
 the fpirit of before. That noble author, in 
 one of his philofophical converfation-pieces, 
 introduces his friend Atticus as obferving the 
 pleafing effecT: which fcenes of this nature 
 are wont to have upon one ? s mind : Move* 
 mur enim (fays that polite Roman) nefcio 
 quo pafflo, kcis ipfis, in quibus eorum^ quos 
 diligimus aut admiramur^ adjunt veftigia. 
 Me quidem ipfce illte noftrce Athena ', non tarn 
 operibus magnlfich exquifitifque antiquorum 
 artibus, deleftant^ quam recordatione fammo- 
 rum vtrorum^ ubl quifque habit are> ubifedere, 
 ubi difputare Jit folitus . 
 
 THUS, you fee, I could defend myfelf 
 by an example of great authority, were I in 
 danger upon this occafion of being ridiculed 
 as a romantic vifionary. But I am too 
 well acquainted with the refined fentiments 
 of Orontes, to be under any apprehenfion 
 he will condemn the impreilions I have 
 
 here
 
 LETTER LIII. 279 
 
 here acknowledged. On the contrary, I 
 have often heard you mention with appro- 
 bation a circumftance of this kind which is 
 related of Silius Italicus. The annual cere- 
 monies which that poet performed at Vir- 
 gil's fepulchre, gave you a more favorable 
 opinion of his tafte, you confefTed, than any 
 thing in his works was able to raife. 
 
 IT is certain that fome of the greateft 
 names of antiquity have diftinguifhed them- 
 felves by the high reverence they {hewed to 
 the poetical character. Scipio, you may 
 remember, defired to be laid in the fame 
 tomb with Ennius ; and I am inclined to 
 pardon that fuccefsful madman Alexander, 
 many of his extravagancies, for the gene- 
 rous regard he paid to the memory of Pin- 
 dar, at the facking of Thebes. 
 
 THERE feems, indeed, to be fomething 
 in poety, that raifes tke pofTefTors of that 
 very fmgular talent, far higher in the efti- 
 mation of the world in general, than thofe 
 who excel in any other of the refined arts. 
 And accordingly we find that poets have 
 been dillinguiihed by antiquity with the 
 moft remarkable honors. Thus Homer, 
 we are told, was deified at Smyrna? as the 
 T 4 citizens
 
 280 LETTER LIII. 
 
 citizens of Mytilene {lamped the image of 
 Sappho upon their public coin. Anacreon 
 received a folemn invitation to fpend his 
 days at Athens j and Hipparchus, thefon of 
 Pififtratus, fitted out a fplendid veffel in or- 
 der to tranfport him thither : and when 
 Virgil came into the theatre at Rome, the 
 whole audience rofe up and faluted him with 
 the fame refpect as they would have paid to 
 Auguftus himfelf. 
 
 PAINTING, one fhould imagine, has the 
 faireft pretenfions of rivalling her fifter-art 
 in the number of admirers ; and yet, where 
 Apelles is mentioned once, Homer is cele- 
 brated a thoufand times. Nor can this be 
 accounted for by urging that the works of 
 the latter are ftill extant, while thofe of the 
 former have perifhed long fince : for is not 
 Milton's paradife lofl more univerfally ef- 
 teemed, than Raphael's cartoons ? 
 
 THE truth, I imagine, is, there are more 
 who are natural judges of the harmony of 
 numbers, than of the grace of proportions. 
 One meets with but few who have not, in 
 fome degree at leaft, a tolerable ear : but a 
 judicious eye is a far more uncommon pof- 
 feffion. For as words are the univerfal me- 
 dium
 
 LETTER LIII. 281 
 
 dium which all men employ in order to 
 convey their fentiments to each other ; it 
 feems a juft confequence that they mould 
 be more generally formed for reliming and 
 judging of performances in that way : 
 whereas the art of reprefenting ideas by 
 means of lines and colors, lies more out of 
 the road of common ufe, and is therefore 
 lefs adapted to the tafte of the general run 
 of mankind. 
 
 I HAZARD this obfervation, in the hope 
 of drawing from you your fentiments upon 
 a fubjecl:, in which no man is more qualified 
 to decide 5 as indeed it is to the converfation 
 of Orontes that I am indebted for the dif- 
 covery of many refined delicacies in the 
 imitative arts, which, without his judicious 
 affiftance, would have Iain concealed to me 
 with other common obfervers. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER LIV. 
 To PHIDIPPUS. 
 
 1AM by no means furprifed that the in- 
 terview you have lately had with Cle- 
 anthes, has given you a much lower idea o f 
 his abilities, than what you had before con- 
 ceived : and iince it has raifed your curi- 
 ofity to know my opinion of his character j 
 you (hall have it with all that freedom 
 you may juftly expect. 
 
 I HAVE always then confidered Clean- 
 thes as pofTefTed of the moft extraordinary 
 talents ; but his talents are of a kind, which 
 can only be exerted upon uncommon occa- 
 fions. They are formed for the greateft 
 depths of bufinefs and affairs; but abfo- 
 lutely out of all fize for the (hallows of or- 
 dinary life. In circumftances that require 
 the moft profound reafonings, in incidents 
 that demand the moft penetrating politics ; 
 there Cleanthes would mine with fupreme 
 luftre. But view him in any fituation in- 
 ferior to thele ; place him where he cannot 
 raife admiration, and he will moft proba- 
 bly link into contempt. Cleanthes, in fhorr, 
 
 wants
 
 LETTER LIV. 283 
 
 wants nothing but the addition of certain 
 minute accomplishments, to render him a 
 finiflied character : but being wholly defti- 
 tute of thofe little talents which are necef- 
 fary to render a man ufeful or agreeable in 
 the daily commerce of th,e world, thofe 
 great abilities which he poffeffes, lie unob- 
 ferved or neglected. 
 
 HE often indeed gives one occafion to 
 reflect how neceflary it is to be mafter of a 
 fort of under qualities, in order to fet off 
 and recommend thofe of a fuperior nature. 
 To know how to defcend with grace and 
 eafe into ordinary occafions, and to fall in 
 with the lefs important parties and purpofes 
 of mankind, is an art of more general in- 
 fluence, perhaps, than is ufually imagined. 
 IF I were to form a youth therefore for 
 the world, I mould certainly endeavor to 
 cultivate in him thofe fecondary qualifi- 
 cations j and train him up to an addrefs in 
 thofe lower arts, which render a man agree- 
 able in converfation, or ufeful to the inno- 
 cent pleafures and accommodations of life. 
 A general fkill and tafte of this kind with 
 moderate abilities, will in moft inftances, I 
 believe, prove moreiccefsful in the world, 
 
 than
 
 284 L E T T E R LV. 
 
 than a much higher degree of capacity 
 without them. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER. LV. 
 
 'To EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 July 17, 1730. 
 
 IF the temper and turn of Timanthes had 
 not long prepared me for what has hap- 
 pened, I mould have received your account 
 of his death with more furprize j but I 
 fufpected from our earlieft acquaintance, 
 that his fentiments and difpofition would 
 lead him into a fatiety of life, much fooner 
 than nature would probably carry him to 
 the end of it. When unfettled principles 
 fall in with a conftitutional gloominefs of 
 mind, it is no wonder the ttzdium vita 
 mould gain daily ftrength, till it pufhes a 
 man to feek relief againft the moft defpe- 
 rate of all diftempers, from the point of a 
 {word, or the bottom of a river. 
 
 BUT to learn to accommodate our tafte 
 to that portion of Happinefs which Provi- 
 dence has fet before us, is of all the leffbns 
 of philpfophy furely the moft neceffary. 
 
 High
 
 L E T T E R LV. 285 
 
 High and exquifite gratifications are not 
 confident with the appointed meafures of 
 humanity : and, perhaps, if we would fully 
 enjoy the relifh of our being, we mould ra- 
 ther confider the miferies we efcape, than 
 too nicely examine the intrinfic worth of 
 the happinefs we pofTefs. It is, at leaft, the 
 bufmels of true wifdom to bring together 
 every circumftance, which may light up a 
 flame of chearfulnefs in the mind : and 
 tho' we mutt be infenfible if it mould per- 
 petually burn with the fame unvaried bright- 
 nefs ; yet prudence fhould preferve it as a 
 facred fire, which is never to be totally ex- 
 tinguiihed. 
 
 I AM perfuaded, this difguft of life is 
 frequently indulged out of a principle of 
 mere vanity. It is efteemed as a mark of 
 uncommon refinement, and as placing a 
 man above the ordinary level of his fpecies, 
 to feem fuperior to the vulgar feelings of 
 happinefs. True good-fenfe, however, moft 
 certainly confifts, not in defpifing, but in 
 managing, our ftock of life to the befl ad- 
 vantage ; as a chearful acquiefcence in the 
 meafures of Providence, is one of the 
 ftrongeft fymptoms of a well-con ftituted 
 
 mind.
 
 286 LETTER LV. 
 
 mind. Self-wearinefs is a circumftance 
 that ever attends folly ; and to contemn our 
 being is the greateft, and indeed the pecu- 
 liar infirmity of human nature. It is a 
 noble fentiment which Tully puts into the 
 mouth of Cato, in his treatife upon old age: 
 Nonlubetmihi (fays that venerable Roman) 
 deplorare vifam, quod mulii> et ii dotti> fape 
 fecerurtt \ neque me vixiffe pee nit et : quoniam 
 it a 'vixi, ut nonjrujlra me natum exijtimcm. 
 IT is in the power indeed, of but a very 
 fmall proportion of mankind, to act the 
 fame glorious part that afforded fuch high 
 fatisfadion to this diftinguifhed patriot: 
 but the number is yet far more inconfider- 
 able of thofe, who cannot, in any ftation, 
 fecure to themfelves a fufficient fund of 
 complacency to render life juftly valuable. 
 Who is it that is placed out of the reach of 
 the higheft of all gratifications, thofe of the 
 generous affections; and that cannot pro- 
 vide for his own happinefs by contributing 
 fomething to the welfare of others ? As this 
 difeafe of the mind generally breaks out 
 with moft violence in thofe, who are fup- 
 pofed to be endowed with a greater deli- 
 cacy of tafte and reaion, than is the ufual 
 
 allotment
 
 LETTER LV. 287 
 
 allotment of their fellow-creatures ; one 
 may afk them whether there is any fatiety 
 in the purfuits of ufeful knowledge ? or, if ^ 
 one can ever be weary of benefiting man- 
 kind ? Will not the fine arts fupply a laft- 
 ing feaft to the mind ? Or can there be 
 wanting a pleafurable employment, fo long 
 as there remains even one advantageous 
 truth to be difcovered or confirmed ? To 
 complain that life has no joys, while there 
 is a fingle creature whom we can relieve by 
 our bounty, affift by our counfels, or en- 
 liven by our prefence, is to lament the lofs of 
 that which we pofiefs, and isjuft as rational 
 as to die of thirft with the cup in our hands. 
 But the misfortune is, when a man is fet- 
 tled into a habit of receiving all his plea- 
 fures from the mere felfifh indulgencies 
 he wears out of his mind the relifh of every 
 nobler enjoyment, at the fame time that 
 his powers of the fenfual kind are growing 
 more languid by each repetition. It is no 
 wonder therefore he mould fill up the mea- 
 fure of his gratifications, long before he 
 has completed the circle of his duration ; 
 and either wretchedly fit down the remaind- 
 er
 
 288 LETTER LVI. 
 
 er of his days in difcontent, or ramly throw 
 them up in defpair. Farewel. 
 
 LETTER LVI. 
 
 70 TlMOCLEA. 
 
 CE RT A I N LY, Timoclea, you have 
 a paffion for the marvelous beyond all 
 power of gratification. There is not an 
 adventurer throughout the whole regions 
 of chivalry, with whom you are unac- 
 quainted ; and have wandered thro' more 
 folios than would furnim out a decent li- 
 brary. Mine, at leaft, you have totally ex- 
 haufted, and have fo cleared my {helves of 
 knights-errant, that I have not a fingle hero 
 remaining that ever was regaled in bower 
 or hall. But tho' you have drained me of my 
 whole flock of romance, I am not entirely 
 unprovided for your entertainment j and 
 have enclofed a little Grecian fable for your 
 amufement, which was lately tranfmitted to 
 me by one of my friends. He difcovered 
 it, he tells me, among fome old manu- 
 fcripts, which have been long, it feems, in 
 
 the
 
 LETTER LVI. 289 
 
 the poflcffion of his family: and, if you 
 will rely upon his judgment, it is a tranfla- 
 tion by Spenfer's own hand. 
 
 THIS is all the hiftory I have to give you 
 of the following piece : the genuinenefs of 
 which I leave to be fettled between my 
 friend and the critics, and am, &c. 
 
 The Transformation of 
 LYCON and EUPHEMES. 
 
 I, 
 
 1T\EEM not, ye plaintive crew, that fuffer 
 
 wrong, 
 
 Ne thou, O man ! who deal'ft the tort, mifwecn 
 The equal gods, whoheav'rfsjky-manfwns throng, 
 (Though viewlefs to the eyne they diftant Jheen) 
 Spectators recklefs of our attiom been. 
 
 Turning the volumes of grave fages old 9 
 Where aundent faws in fable may fa feen, 
 
 This truth I fond in pay mm tale enroled ; 
 Which for enfample drad my mufejhall here unfold. 
 
 II. 
 What time Arcadia's flowret tallies f arid, 
 
 Pelafgus, jirft of monarch 'S old, obey'd, 
 There wonn'd a wight, and Lycon was he nam'd, 
 Unaw*d by confcience, of no gcds afraid, 
 . Ne jujiice rul d his heart, ne mercy fwafd. 
 
 U Some
 
 290 LETTER LVI. 
 
 Some held him kin to that abhorred race, 
 Which heaven's high towers with mad emprize 
 
 And fome his cruel lynage did y trace 
 Fromf ell Erynnis join d in Pluto's dire embrace. 
 
 III. 
 
 But he, perdy, far other tale did feign, 
 And claimed alliaunce with the fijlers nine ; 
 
 And deem* dhi mfe If (what deems not pride fo vain?) 
 The peerlefs paragon of wit divine, 
 Vaunting that ev'ryfoejhould rue its tine. 
 
 Right doughty wight ! yetjooth^witkoutenfmart, 
 All powerlefs fell the lofel*s Jhafts malign: 
 
 "Tts venue's arm to wield wit's heav'nly dart, 
 Point its keen barb with force, andfendit to the heart, 
 
 IV. 
 
 One only impe he had, Paftora hight, 
 Wbofefweet amenauncepleas'deachjhepherd's eye : 
 Tet pleas' djhe not bafe Ly con's evilfpright, 
 fho blame in her not malice moten 'fpy, 
 Clear, without fpot, asfummer's cloudlefsjky. 
 Hence poets feign' d, Lycean Pan array' d 
 In Ly con's form, ewflam'd with pajjlon high, 
 Deceiv'd her mother in the covert glade ; 
 And from the JioFn embrace yfprong the heav'nly 
 maid. 
 
 V. Thus
 
 LETTER LVI. 291 
 
 V. 
 
 Thus fabling they : mean while the damfel fair 
 
 AJhepherdyoUth remark' d, as o'er the plain 
 She deffly pacd elongfo debonair : 
 
 Seem'd Jhe as one of Dian's chofen train. 
 
 Full many a fond excufe he knew to feign> 
 Infweet converfe to while with her the day, 
 
 "Till love unwares his heedlefs heart did gain* 
 Nor dempt he, Jimple wight ', no mortal may 
 The blinded god once harbour' d,when he lift,forefay t 
 
 VI. 
 Now much he meditates if yet to fpeak, 
 
 And now refolves his pa/ion to conceal : 
 But fur -e, quoth he, my feely heart will break 
 
 If aye I fmother what I aye muft feel. 
 
 At length by hope embolden to reveal, 
 The lab' ring fee ret dropped from his tong. 
 
 WTyilesfrcquentfingults check' dhisfaltringtale, 
 In modeft wife her head Paftora hong : 
 For never maid more chafte infpiredjhepherd'sfong, 
 
 VIL 
 
 What needs me to recount in long detail 
 
 The tender par ley which thefe lemans held : 
 How oft he wood his love her nierjkculdfail-, 
 How oft the fir earn from forth her eyne out- 
 
 well'd, 
 
 Doubting if conftancy yet ever dwell' d 
 In heart of youthful wight ; fuffice to know, 
 Each rifing doubt he in her bofome quell' d. 
 
 U 2 Si
 
 292 LETTER LVI. 
 
 So parted they, more blithfome both, I trow : 
 For rankling love conceal* d, me f cans, is deadly wee, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Eftfcom to Lycon fwi ft the youth did fare, 
 
 (LaggdeveryouthwhenCupidurg'dhisway?) 
 Andftraight his gentle purpofe did declare, 
 Andfooth the mount* naunce of his herds difplay. 
 Ne Lycon meant hisfuiten to fore fay : 
 " Be thine Paftora (quoth the majkerjly) 
 " And twice two thoufand Jheep her dow'r 
 
 Jhallpay." 
 
 Beat then the lover's heart with jpyaunce high; 
 Ne dempt that aught his blifs could now betray, 
 Ne guejVd that foul deceit in Lye en's bojome lay. 
 
 IX. 
 
 So forth heyode tofeek his reverend fire ; 
 
 (The good Euphemes Jhephcrds him did call) 
 How fweet Paftora did his bo feme fire, 
 
 Her worth, her promised flocks, he t olden all. 
 Ah ! nere, my fon, let Lycon thee enthrall, 
 ( 'Reply* d thefage, in wife experience eld) 
 
 " Smooth is his tong, but full of guile withal, 
 " In promife faithlefs, and in vaunting bold : 
 " Ne ever lamb of his will bleat within thy fold" 
 
 X. 
 With words prophetic k thus Euphemes fpake : 
 
 And f aft confirmed what wifdom thus foretold : 
 Full many a mean devife did Lycon make, 
 The hoped day of fpoufalto with-hold, 
 
 Framing
 
 LETTER LVI. 293 
 
 Framing new trains when nought mote ferve 
 
 his old. 
 Nath'lefs he vow'd, Cyllene, cloud-topt bit!, 
 
 Should fc oner down the lowly delve be roll'd, 
 Than he his plighted promife nould fulfill : 
 But when,perdy, or where, the caitivefayen nill. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Wkiks thus the tedious funs hadjournetfd round 
 Ne ought mote now the lovers hearts divide ', 
 
 Ne truft was there, ne truth in Lycon found; 
 'The maid with matron Juno for her guide, 
 'The youth by Concord led, infecret hy'd 
 
 To Hymen's facredfane : The honeft deed [tfd. 
 Each god approved, and clofe the bands were 
 
 Certes, till happier moments JJjould fucceed, 
 No prying eyne they weened their emprize mote arced, 
 
 XII. 
 
 But prying eyne of Lycon 'twas in vain 
 (Right pra flick in difguife) to hope beware. 
 
 //<? trafd their covert fteps to Hymen's fane, 
 And joy' I to find them in his long-laid fnare . 
 
 Algates, in femblaunt ire, he'gan to fwear, 
 
 .And roar en loud as in difpleajaunce high ; 
 
 Then out he hurlen forth his daughter fair* 
 Forelore, the houfelefs child of mifery^ 
 
 Expos' d to killing cold, and pinching penury. 
 
 U 3 XIII. Ah!
 
 294 LETTER LVI. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ah I whither now Jhall fad P aft or a wend, 
 
 want abandoned and by wrongs off reft ? 
 Whojhall the wretched out-caft's teen befriend? 
 Live 3 * mercy then, if not in parents breaft ? 
 Tes , MERCY lives, the gentle goddefs bleft^ 
 At Jove's right hand, to Jove for ever dear. 
 Ay eat his feet Jhe pleads the caufe diftreft, 
 To forrow's plaints Jhe turns his equal ear, 
 Andwaftstobeav'tfsftar-thronefair vertue'sjilent 
 tear. 
 
 XIV. 
 'Twas SHE that bade Euphemes quell each 
 
 thought, 
 
 That well mote rife to check his generous aid. 
 Tho high the torts which Lycon him bad wrought* 
 Tho few the flocks his humble paftures fed ; 
 When as he learn* d Paftora's haplefsfted, 
 
 His breaft hujnane with wonted pity flows. 
 He op'd his gates, the naked exile led 
 
 Beneath his roof : a decent drapet throws 
 O'er her cold limbs, and fooths her tmdefervedwoes. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Now loud- tongu^d Rumour bruited round the tale : 
 
 Th* ajloniedfwains uneath could credence give, 
 That in Arcadia's unambitious vale 
 Afaytorfalfe as Lycon e'er did live. 
 
 But
 
 LETTER LVI. 295 
 
 But Jove (who in high heav*n does mortals prive, 
 And ev*ry deed in golden ballance weighs) 
 
 To earth his flaming char ret baden drive, 
 
 And down defcends, enwrapt in peerlefs blaze, 
 
 To deal forth guerdon meet to good and evil ways. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Where Eurymanthus, crown* d with many a wood, 
 
 His fiherftr earn through daffd vales does lead, 
 Stretch* d on theflowry marge, in recklefs mood, 
 
 Proud Lycon fought by charm of jocund reed 
 To lull the dire remorfe of tortious deed. 
 
 Him Jove accofts, in rev* rend femblaunce dight 
 Of good Euphemes, and *gan mild areed 
 
 Of compaft eft confirmed, of fay yplight, 
 Of nature* s tender tye, of facred rule of right. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 With lofty eyne, half loth to look fo low, 
 
 Him Lycon view* a 1 , and withfwol'n furquedry 
 9 Can rudely treat his facred eld: When now 
 
 Forth flood the god confeft that rules the fly, 
 Infuddenfoeen of drad divinity : [fad, 
 
 " And know, falfe man,** the lord of thunders 
 " Not unobferv*d by hcav*n*s all-perfent eye 
 
 " Thy cruel deeds : nor Jh all be unappafd : 
 " Go ! be inform that beft befeemsthy thews, array* d" 
 
 U 4 XVIII.
 
 296 LETTER LVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Whiles yet hefpake th* a frayed trembling wight 
 
 Tnwfmevfd to blatant beaft, with hideous howl 
 Ruftfd headlong forth, in well-deferved plight, 
 
 Mid' ft dragons, minotaurs, and fiends to prowl, 
 Awolfinform as erft a wolf in foul! 
 
 To Pholoc, for eft wild, 'he hy d away, 
 The horrid haunt of favage monfters foul. 
 
 There helplefs innocence isftill his prey, 
 Thief of the bleating fold> andjhepherds dire difmay. 
 
 XIX. 
 Tho Jove to good Euphemes* cot did wend, 
 
 Where peaceful dwelt the man of virtue high, 
 Each Jhepherd's praife and eke each Jhepherd's 
 
 In ev'ry aft of fweet humanity. [friend, 
 
 Him Jove approaching in mild majefty, 
 
 Greeted all hail! then bade him join the throng 
 Ofglifrandlights that gild the glowing Jky. 
 
 There Jhepherds nightly view his orb yhong, 
 Where bright he Jhines eterne, the brightejl ftars 
 emong. 
 
 L E t T E R LVII. 
 
 70 CLYTANDER. 
 
 February 8. 1739. 
 
 IF there was any thing in my former let- 
 ter inconfiftent with that efteem which 
 is juftly due to the Antients, I defire to re- 
 
 traft
 
 LETTER LVII. 297 
 
 trad: it in this; and difavow every ex- i 
 preffion which might feem to give prece- 
 dency to the moderns in works of genius. 
 I am fb far indeed from entertaining the 
 fentiments you impute to me, that I have 
 often endeavoured to account for that fupe- 
 riority which is fo vifible in the compo- 
 fitions of their poets : and have frequently 
 affigned their religion as in the number of 
 thofe caufes, which probably concurred to 
 give them this remarkable preheminence. 
 That enthufiafm which is fo eflential to 
 every true artift in the poetical way, was 
 confiderably heightened and enflamed by 
 the whole turn of their facred doctrines ; 
 and the fancied prefence of their Mufes 
 had almoft as wonderful an effect upon : 
 their thoughts and language, as if they had, 
 been really and divinely infpired. Whilft 
 all nature was fuppofed to fwarm with di- 
 vinities, and every oak and fountain was 
 believed to be the refidence of fome pre- 
 fiding deity j what wonder if the poet was 
 animated by the imagined influence of fuch 
 exalted fociety, and found himfelf tranf- 
 ported beyond the ordinary limits of fober 
 humanity ? The mind, when attended only 
 
 by
 
 298 LETTER LVII. 
 
 by mere mortals of fuperior powers, is ob- 
 ferved to rife in her ftrengthj and her fa- 
 culties open and enlarge themfelves when 
 fhe acts in the view of thofe, for whom 
 fhe has conceived a more than common re- 
 verence. But when the force of fupper- 
 ftition moves in concert which the powers 
 of imagination, and genius is enflamed by 
 devotion, poetry mufh fliine out in all her 
 brighter! perfection and fplendor. 
 
 WHATEVER therefore the philofopher 
 might think of the religion of his country -, 
 it was the intereft of the poet to be tho- 
 roughly orthodox. If he gave up his creed, 
 he muft renounce his numbers j and there 
 could be no infpiration where there were 
 no Mufes. This is fo true, that it is in 
 compofitions of the poetical kind alone, 
 that the antients feem to have the principal 
 advantage over the moderns : in every 
 other fpecies of writing one might venture 
 perhaps to affert, that thefe latter ages have, 
 at leaft, equalled them. When I fay fo, I 
 do not confine myfelf to the productions 
 ef our own nation, but comprehend like- 
 wife thofe of our neighbours ; and with that 
 extent the obfervation will poffibly hold 
 
 true,
 
 LETTER LVII. 299 
 
 true, even without an exception in favour of 
 hiftory and oratory. 
 
 BUT whatever may with juftice be de- 
 termined concerning that queftion ; it is 
 certain, atleaft, that the practice of all fuc- 
 ceeding poets confirms the notion for which 
 I am principally contending. Though the al- 
 tars of paganifm have many ages fince been 
 thrown down, and groves are no longer 
 facred 5 yet the language of the poets has 
 not changed with the religion of the times, 
 but the gods of Greece and Rome are ftill 
 adored in modern verfe. Is not this a con- 
 feffion, that fancy is enlivened by fuper- 
 flition, and that the antient bards catched 
 their rapture from the old mythology ? I 
 will own, however, that I think there is 
 fomething ridiculous in this unnatural adop- 
 tion, and that a modern poet makes but an 
 aukward figure with his antiquated gods. 
 When the pagan fyftem was fanctified by 
 popular belief, a peice of machinery of that 
 kind, as it had the air of probability, af- 
 forded a very ftriking manner of celebrating 
 any remarkable circumftance, or raifing any 
 common one. But now that this fuper- 
 ftition is no longer fupported by vulgar 
 
 opinion
 
 3 oo LETTER LVIL 
 
 opinion, it has loft its principal grace and 
 efficacy, and feems to be, in general, the 
 moft cold and uninterefting method in 
 which a poet can work up his fentiments. 
 What, for inftance, can be more unaffecl:- 
 kig and fpiritlefs, than the compliment 
 which Boileau has paid to Louis the XlVth 
 on his famous paflage over the Rhine ? He 
 reprefents the Naiads, you may remember, 
 as alarming the god of that river with an 
 account of the march of the French mo- 
 narch -, upon which the river-god affumes 
 the appearence of an old experienced com- 
 mander, and flies to a Dutch fort, in order 
 to exhort the garrifon to fally out and dif- 
 pute the intended paffage. Accordingly 
 they range themfelves in form of battle 
 with the Rhine at their head, who, after 
 fome vain efforts, obferving Mars and Bel- 
 lona on the fide of the enemy, is fo terrified 
 with the view of thefe fuperior divinities, 
 that he moft gallantly runs away, and leaves 
 the hero in quiet poffeffion of .his banks. 
 I know not how far this may be relimed 
 by critics, or juftified by cuflom j but as 
 J am only mentioning my particular tafte, I 
 
 will
 
 LETTER LII. 301 
 
 will acknowledge, that it appears to me 
 extremely infipid and puerile. 
 
 I HAVE not however fo much of the 
 fpirit of Typhceus in me, as to make war 
 upon the gods without reftriction, and at- 
 tempt to exclude them from their whole 
 poetical dominions. To reprefent natural, 
 moral, or intellectual qualities and affections 
 as pcrfons, and appropriate to them thofe 
 general emblems by which their powers 
 and properties are ufually typified in pagan 
 theology, may be allowed as one of the 
 moll: pleating and graceful figures of poeti- 
 cal rhetoric. When Dryden, addreffing 
 himfelf to the month of May as to a per- 
 fon, fays, 
 
 For thee the Graces lead the dancing Hours-, 
 
 one may confider him as fpeaking only in 
 metaphor : and when fuch {hadowy beings 
 are thus juft fliewn to the imagination, and 
 immediately withdrawn again, they certain- 
 ly have a very powerful effect. But I can 
 relim them no farther than as figures only: 
 when they are extended in any ferious com- 
 pofition beyond the limits, of metaphor, and 
 exhibited under all the various actions of 
 
 real
 
 3 o2 LETTER LVIL 
 
 real perfons, I cannot but confider them as 
 fo many abfurdities, which cuftom has un- 
 reafonably authorized. Thus Spenfer, in 
 one of his Paftorals, reprcfents the god of 
 Love as flying, like a bird, from bough to 
 bough. A fhepherd, who hears a ruftling 
 among the bufhes, fuppofes it to be fome 
 game, and accordingly difcharges his bow. 
 Cupid returns the mot, and after feveral ar- 
 rows had been mutually exchanged between 
 them, the unfortunate fwain difcovers whom 
 it is he is contending with : but as he is 
 endeavouring to make his efcape, receives 
 a dcfperate wound in the heel. This fiction 
 makes the fubject of a very pretty idyllium 
 in one of the Greek poets : yet is extreme- 
 ly flat and difgufting as it is adopted by our 
 Britim bard. And the reafon of the diffe- 
 rence is plain: in the former it is fupported 
 by a popular fuperftition j whereas no ftrain 
 of imagination can give it the leaft air of 
 probability, as it is worked up by the latter : 
 
 Quodcunque mihi oftendisfa, incredulus odL 
 
 HOR! 
 
 I MUST confefs at the fame time, that 
 the inimitable Prior has introduced this fa- 
 bulous
 
 LETTER LVII. 303 
 
 bulous fcheme with fuch uncommon grace, 
 and has paid fo many genteel compliments 
 to his miftrefs by the affiftance of Venus 
 and Cupid, that one is carried off from ob- 
 ferving the impropriety of this machinery, 
 by the pleating addrefs with which he ma- 
 nages it : and I never read his tender poems 
 of this kind, without applying to him what 
 Seneca fomewhere fays upon a fimilar oc- 
 cafion : Major ilk eft qui judicium abjlulity 
 quam qui meruit. 
 
 To fpeak my opinion in one word, I 
 would leave the gods in full poffeflion of 
 allegorical and burlefque poems: in all 
 others I would never fuffer them to make 
 their appearance in perfon and as agents, 
 but to enter only in fimile, or allufion. It 
 is thus Waller, of all our poets, has moft 
 happily employed them : and his applica- 
 tion of the ftory of Daphne and Apollo 
 will ferve as an inftance, in what manner 
 the antient mythology may be adopted with 
 the utmoft propriety and beauty. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 304 I 
 LETTER LVII. 
 
 70 EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 Auguft 8, 1741. 
 
 1KNOW not in what difpofition of mind 
 this letter may find you ; but I am fure 
 you will not preferve your ufual chearful- 
 nefs of temper when I tell you that poor 
 Hydafpes died laft night. 
 
 I WILL not at this time attempt to offer 
 that confolation to you, of which I fland in 
 fo much need myfelf. But may it not 
 fomewhat abate the anxiety of our mutual 
 grief, to reflect, that however confiderable 
 our own lofs is, yet with refpect to himfelf, 
 it fcarce deferves to be ' lamented that he 
 arrived fo much earlier at the grave than 
 his years and his health feemed to promife ? 
 For who, my friend, that has any experi- 
 ence of the world, would wifh to extend 
 his duration to old age ? what indeed is 
 length of days but to furvive all one's en- 
 joyments, and, perhaps, to furvive even 
 one's very felf ? I have fomewhere met with 
 an ancient infcription founded upon this 
 fentiment, which infinitely pleafed me. It 
 
 was
 
 . LETTER LVIII. 305 
 
 Was fixed upon a bath, and contained an im- 
 precation in the following terms, againft any 
 one who fhould attempt to remove the 
 building : 
 
 Q^VISQ^VIS. HOC. SVSTVLERIT. 
 
 AVT. I VS S E R I T. 
 VLTIMUS. SVORUM. MORIATUR. 
 
 The thought is conceived with great deli- 
 cacy and juftnefs j as there cannot, perhaps, 
 be a fharper calamity to a generous mind, 
 than to fee itfelf ftand fmgle amidft the 
 ruins of whatever rendered the world mod 
 defirable. 
 
 INSTANCES of the fort I am lamenting, 
 while the impreffions remain frefh upon the 
 mind, are fufficient to damp the gayeft 
 hopes, and chill the warmeft ambition. 
 When one fees a perfon in the full bloom 
 of life, thus deilroyed by one fudden blafr, 
 one cannot but confider all the diftant 
 fchemes of mankind as the higheft folly. 
 
 IT is amazing indeed that a creature fuch 
 as man, with fo mang memorials around 
 him of the fhortnefs of his duration, and 
 who cannot infure to himfelf even the 
 next moment, mould yet plan defigns which 
 X run
 
 3 o6 L E T T E R LV1II. 
 
 run far into futurity. The bufinefs how- 
 ever of life muft be carried on, and it is 
 neceffary for the purpofes of human affairs, 
 that mankind fhould refoltitely act upon 
 very precarious contingencies. Too much 
 reflection, therefore, is as inconfiftent with 
 the appointed meafures of our ftation, as too 
 little ; and there cannot be a lefs defirable 
 turn of mind, than one that is influenced 
 by an over-refined philofophy. At leaf! it 
 is by confiderations of this fort, that I en- 
 deavor to call ofF my thoughts from pur- 
 fuing too earneftly thofe reafonings, which 
 the occafion of this letter is apt to fuggeft. 
 This uie, however, one mayjuftly make of 
 the prefent accident, that, whilil it contracts 
 the circle of friendship, it fhould render it 
 fo much the more valuable to us who yet 
 walk within its limits. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 LETTER LIX. 
 
 70 HORTENSIUS. 
 
 May, 4, 1740. 
 
 IF the ingenious piece you communicated 
 to me, requires any farther touches of 
 your pencil j I muft acknowledge the truth 
 to be what you are inclined to fufped:, that 
 my friendmip has impofed upon my judg- 
 ment. But though in the prefent inftance 
 your delicacy feems far too refined, yet in 
 general, I muft agree with you, that works 
 of the moft permanent kind, are not the 
 effects of a lucky moment, nor ftruck out 
 at a fingle heat. The heft performances, 
 indeed, have generally coft the moft labor $ 
 and that eafe which is fo eflential to fine 
 writing, has feldom been attained without 
 repeated and fevere corrections : Ludentis 
 fpeciem dabit et torquebitur> is a motto that 
 may be applied, I believe, to moft fuccefs- 
 ful authors of genius. With as much fa- 
 cility as the numbers of the natural Prior 
 feem to have flowed from him, they were 
 the refult (if I am not mifinformed) of 
 much application : and a friend of mine, 
 X 2 who
 
 308 LETTER LIX. 
 
 who undertook to tranfcribe one of the no- 
 bleft performances of the fineft genius that 
 this, or perhaps any age can heart, has of- 
 ten affured me, that there is not a fingle 
 line, as it is now published, which ftands 
 in conformity with the original rnanufcript. 
 The truth is, every fentiment has its pecu- 
 liar expreffion, and every word its precife 
 place, which do not 'always immediately 
 prefent themfelves, and generally demand 
 frequent trials before they -can <be properly 
 adjufted ; not to mention the more impor- 
 tant difficulties, which neceffarily occur in 
 fettling the plan and regulating the higher 
 parts, which compofe the ftructure of a fi- 
 nimed work. 
 
 THOSE indeed, who know what pangs it 
 coils even the mofl fertile genius to be de- 
 livered of a juft and regular production, 
 might be inclined, perhaps, to cry out with 
 the mod antient of authors, Oh! that 
 .mine adverfary had written a book ! A wri- 
 ter of refined tafte has the continual morti- 
 fication to find himfelf incapable of taking 
 entire poiFeftion of that ideal beauty, which 
 warms and fills his imagination. His con- 
 ceptions
 
 LETTER LIX. 309 
 
 ceptions ftill rife above all the powers of 
 his art, and he can but faintly copy out 
 thofe images of perfection, which are im- 
 prefled upon his mind. Never was any 
 thing, fays Tully, more beautiful than the 
 Venus of Apeiles, or the Jove of Phidias ; 
 yet were they by no means equal to thofe 
 high notions of beauty which animated the 
 geniufes of thofe wonderful artifts. In the 
 fame manner, he obferves, the great ma- 
 fters of oratory imaged to themfelves a cer- 
 tain perfection of eloquence, which they 
 could only contemplate in idea, but in vain 
 attempted to draw out in expreffion. Per- 
 haps no author ever perpetuated his repu- 
 tation, who could write up to the full 
 ftandard of his own judgment: and I am 
 perfuaded that he, who upon a furvey of 
 his competitions can with entire compla- 
 cency pronounce them good, will hardly 
 find the world join with- him in the fame 
 favorable fentence. 
 
 THE moft judicious of all poets, the in- 
 imitable Virgil, ufed to refemble his pro- 
 ductions to thofe of that animal, who, 
 agreeably to the notions of the antients, 
 X 3 was
 
 310 LETTER LIX. 
 
 was fuppofed to bring her young into the 
 world, a mere rude and fhapelefs mafs : he 
 was obliged to retouch them again and 
 again, he acknowledged, before they ac- 
 quired their proper form and beauty. Ac-* 
 cordingly we are told, that after having fpent 
 eleven years in compofmg his >neid, he 
 intended to have fet apart three more for 
 the revifal of that glorious performance. 
 But being prevented by his laft ficknefs 
 from giving thofe rimming touches, which 
 his exquifite judgment conceived to be ftill 
 neceffary, he directed his friends Tucca and 
 Varius to burn the noblefl poem that ever 
 appeared in the Roman language. In the 
 fame fpirit of delicacy Mr. Dryden tells us, 
 that had he taken more time in tranflating 
 this author, he might poffibly have fuc-r 
 ceeded better; but never, he afTures us, 
 could he have fucceeded fo well as to have 
 fatisfied himfelf. 
 
 IN a word, Hortenfius, I agree with you 
 that there is nothing more difficult than to 
 fill up the character of an author, . whxfpro- 
 pofes to raife a juft and lading admiration 
 who is not contented with thofe little tran- 
 fient flames of applaufe, which attend the 
 
 ordinary
 
 LETTER LIX. 311 
 
 ordinary race of writers, but confiders only 
 how may mine out to posterity ; who 
 extends his views beyond the prefent gene- 
 ration, and cultivates thofe productions 
 which are to flourim in future ages. What 
 Sir William Temple obferves of poetry, 
 may be applied to every other work where 
 tafte and imagination are concerned : " It 
 " requires the greateft contraries to com- 
 <c pofe it: a genius both penetrating and 
 " folid y an expreffion both ftrong and de- 
 c< licate. There muft be a great agitation 
 " of mind to invent, a great calm to judge 
 " and correct : there muft be upon the 
 " fame tree, and at the fame time, both 
 <c flower and fruit." But tho', I know 
 you would not value yourfelf upon any 
 performance, wherein thefe very oppofite 
 and very iingular qualities were not confpi- 
 cuous j yet I muft remind you at the fame 
 time, that when the file ceafes to poliili, it 
 muft neceflarily weaken. You will re- 
 member therefore, that there is a medium 
 between the immoderate caution of that 
 orator who was three olympiads in writing 
 a fingle oration; and the extravagant expe- 
 dition of that poet, whofe funeral pile was 
 X 4 coin-
 
 3 i2 LETTER LX. 
 
 eompofed of his own numberlefs produc- 
 tions. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER LX. 
 
 jTfl P A L E M O N. 
 
 I WRITE this vvhile Cleora is angling by 
 my fide, under the (hade of a fpread- 
 ing elm that hangs over the banks of our 
 river. A nightingale, more harmonious 
 even than Strada's, is ferenading us from a 
 hawthorn bufh which fmiles with all the 
 gaiety of youth and beauty j while 
 
 gentle gales y 
 
 Fanning their odoriferous wings, difpenfe 
 Nativeperfumes^and wbijper whence theyftole 
 Thofe balmy fpolh. MILT. 
 
 WHILST I am thus enjoying the inno- 
 cent luxury of this vernal delight, I look 
 back upon thofe fcenes of turbulence where- 
 in I was once engaged, with more than or- 
 dinary diftafte, and defpife myfelf for ever 
 having entertained fo mean a thought as to 
 be rich and great. One of our monarchs 
 
 ufed
 
 L E T T E R LX. 313 
 
 ufed to fay, " that he looked upon thofe to 
 " be the happieft men in the nation, whofe 
 " fortune had placed them in the country, 
 " above a high conftable, and below the 
 " trouble of a juftice of peace." It is in a 
 mediocrity of this happy kind that I herepafs 
 my life : with a fortune far above the necef- 
 fity of engaging in the drudgery of bufmefs; 
 and with defires much too humble to have 
 any relifh for the fplendid baits of ambition. 
 You muft not, however, imagine that I 
 affect the Stoic, or pretend to have eradi- 
 cated all my paffions : the fum of my phi- 
 lofophy amounts to no more than to cherifh 
 none but fuch as I may eafily and innocent- 
 ly gratify, and to banim all the reft as fo 
 many bold intruders upon my repofe. I 
 endeavor to practife the maxim of a French 
 poet, by confidering every thing that is not 
 within my poffefiion as not worth having ; 
 
 four majfurer le feul blen 
 Quc Yon doit eflimer au monde, 
 Toutce quejenaipas, je le compte pour rien. 
 
 Is it not poffible, Palemon, to reconcile 
 you to thefe unafpiring fentiments, and to 
 lower your flight to the humble level of ge- 
 nuine
 
 3.H LETTER LXL 
 
 n uine happinefs ? Let me at leaft prevail with 
 you to fpare a day or two from the ccrtami- 
 ?ia divitiarum, (as Horace I think calls them) 
 from thofe fplendid contefts in which you 
 are engaged, to take a view of the fort 
 of life we lead in the country. If there is 
 any thing wanting to complete the happi- 
 nefs I here find, it is that you are fo feldom 
 a witnefs to it. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER LXL 
 
 T0 EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 J u ty 3> J 744- 
 
 TH E beauties of ftyle feem to be gene- 
 rally confidered as below the atten- 
 tion both of an author and a reader. I know 
 not therefore, whether I may venture to 
 acknowledge, that among the numberlefs 
 graces of your late performance, I particu- 
 larly admired that ftrength and elegance 
 with which you have enforced and adorned 
 the nobleft fentiments. 
 
 THERE was a time however (and it was 
 a period of the trueft refinements) when an 
 
 excel-
 
 LETTER LXI. 315 
 
 excellence of this kind was efteemed in the 
 number of the politeft accomplifliments -, 
 as it was the ambition of fome of the greateft 
 names of antiquity, to diftinguim themfelves 
 in the improvements of their native tongue. 
 Julius Caefar, who was not only the greateft 
 hero, but the fineft gentleman that ever, 
 perhaps, appeared in the world, was defir- 
 ous of adding this talent to his other molt 
 {hining endowments : and we are told he 
 ftudied the language of his country with 
 much application ; as we are fare he pofTeffed 
 it in its higheft elegance. What a lofs, Eu- 
 phronius, is it to the literary world, that 
 the treatife which he wrote upon thisfubject, 
 is perimed with many other valuable works 
 of that age ? But tho' we are deprived of 
 the benefit of his obfervations, we are hap- 
 pily not without an inftance of their effects ; 
 and his own memoirs will ever remain as 
 the beft and brighteft exemplar, not only of 
 true generalmip, but of fine writing. He 
 publimcd them, indeed, only as materials 
 for the ufe of thofe who mould be difpofed 
 to enlarge upon that remarkable period of 
 the Roman ftory; yet the purity and grace- 
 fulnefs of his ftyle were fuch, that no judi- 
 cious
 
 316 LETTER LXI. 
 
 cious writer durft attempt to touch the fub- 
 ject after him. 
 
 HAVING produced fo illuftrious an in- 
 fbnce in favor of an art, for which I have 
 ventured to admire you - y it would be im- 
 pertinent to add a fecond, were I to cite a 
 lefs authority than that of the immortal Tul- 
 ly. This noble author, in his dialogue con- 
 cerning {he celebrated Roman orators, fre- 
 quently mentions it as a very high encomi- 
 um, that they polTefTed the elegance of their 
 native language ; and introduces Brutus as 
 declaring, that he fhould prefer the honor 
 of being efteemed the great matter and im- 
 prover of Roman eloquence, even to the 
 glory of many triumphs. 
 
 BUT to add reafon to precedent, and to 
 view this art in its ufe as well as its dignity j 
 will it not be allowed of fome importance, 
 when it is confidered, that eloquence is one 
 of the moft considerable auxiliaries of truth? 
 Nothing indeed contributes more to fubdue 
 the mind to the force of reafon, than her 
 being fupported by the powerful affiftance 
 of mafculine and vigorous oratory : as on 
 the contrary, the moft legitimate arguments 
 pay be difappointed of that fuccefs they de^ 
 
 ferve,
 
 LETTER LXI. 317 
 
 fefve, by being attended with a fpiritlefs and 
 enfeebled expreflion. Accordingly, that 
 mofl elegant of writers, the inimitable Mr. 
 Addifon, obferves in one of his effays, that 
 " there is as much difference between com- 
 c< prehending a thought cloathed in Cicero's 
 " language and that of an ordinary writer, 
 " as between feeing an object by the light 
 C of a taper or the light of the fun." 
 
 IT is furely then a very ftrange conceit 
 of the celebrated Malbranche, who feems 
 to think the pleafure wnich arifes from pe- 
 rufing a well written piece, is of the cri- 
 minal kind, and has its fource in the weak- 
 nefs and effeminacy of the human heart. 
 A man muft have a very uncommon feve- 
 rity of temper indeed, who can find any 
 thing to condemn in adding charms to 
 truth, and gaining the heart by captivating 
 the ear ; in uniting rofes with the thorns 
 of fcience, and joining pleafure with in- 
 ftruftion. 
 
 THE truth is, the mind is delighted 
 with a fine ftyle, upon the fame principle 
 that it prefers regularity to confufion, and 
 beauty to deformity. A tafte of this fort is 
 indeed fo far from being a mark of any de- 
 pravity
 
 3 i8 LETTER LXI. 
 
 pravity of oar nature, that I mould rather 
 confider it as an evidence, in fome degree, 
 of the moral rectitude of its conftitution j as 
 it is a proof of its retaining fome relim at 
 leaft of harmony and order. 
 
 ONE might be apt indeed, to fufpect that 
 certain writers amongft us had confidered all 
 beauties of this fort, in the fame gloomy 
 view with Malbranche : or at Icaft that they 
 avoided every refinement in ftyle, as un- 
 worthy a lover of truth and philofophy. 
 Their fentiments are funk by the loweft 
 expreflions, and feem condemned to the 
 firft curfe, of creeping upon the ground all the 
 days of their life. Others, on the contrary, 
 miftake pomp for dignity; and, in order to 
 raife their expreffions above vulgar language, 
 lift them up beyond common apprehenfions, 
 efteeming it (one mould imagine) a mark of 
 their genius, that it requires fome ingenuity 
 to penetrate their meaning. But how few 
 writers, like Euphronius, know to hit that 
 true medium which lies between thofe di- 
 itant extremes? How feldom do we meet 
 with an author, whofe expreffions, like 
 thofe of my friend, are glowing but not 
 glaring, whofe metaphors are natural but
 
 LETTER LXI-L 319 
 
 hot common, whofe periods are harmonious 
 but not poetical ; in a word, whofe fenti- 
 ments are ivellfet, and fhewn to the under- 
 Handing in their trueft and moft advantage- 
 ous luftre. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER LXIL* 
 
 To O R O N T E S. 
 
 I IN TENDED to have clofed with your 
 propofal, and pa/Ted a few weeks with 
 you at * * *, but fome unlucky affairs have 
 intervened, which will engage me, I fear, 
 the remaining part of this feafon. 
 
 AMONG the amufements which the 
 fcene you are in affords, I mould have 
 efteemed the converfation of Timoclea as a 
 very principal entertainment; and as I know 
 you are fond of ilngular characters, I recom- 
 mend that lady to your acquaintance. 
 
 TIMOCLEA was once a beauty -, but 
 111 health, and worfe fortune, have ruin- 
 ed thofe charms, which time would yet 
 have fpared. However, what has fpoiled 
 her for a miftrefs, has improved her for a 
 companion ; and ilie is far more converfable 
 
 now,
 
 3 2o LETTER LXII. 
 
 now, as (he has much lefs beauty, than 
 when I ufed to fee her once, a week triumph- 
 ing in the drawing-room. For, as few wo- 
 men (whatever they may pretend;) will va- 
 lue themfelves upon their minds, while they 
 can gain admirers by their perfons, Timo- 
 clea never -thought of captivating by her wit 
 till me had no chance of making conquefts 
 by her .beauty. She has feen a good deal of 
 the world, and of the beft company in it ; 
 and* it. is from thence me has derived what- 
 ever knowledge me pofTeffes. You cannot, 
 indeed, flatter her more, than by feeming to 
 confider her as fond of reading and retire- 
 ment. But the truth is, nature formed her 
 for the joys of fociety, and me is never fo 
 thoroughly pleafed as when (he has a circle 
 round her. 
 
 IT is upon thofe occafions (he appears to 
 full advantage ; and indeed I never knew 
 any perfon who was endued with the talents 
 for converfation to an higher degree. If I 
 were difpofed to write the characters of the 
 age, Timoclea is the firft perfon in the 
 world to whofe ainftance I mould apply. 
 She has the happieft art of marking out 
 the diftinguiming cad of her acquaintance, 
 
 that
 
 LETTER LXII. 321 
 
 that I ever met with ; and I have known 
 her, in an afternoon's converfation, paint the 
 manners with greater delicacy of judgment 
 and ftrength of coloring, than is to be found 
 either in Theophraftus or Bruyere. 
 
 SHE has an inexhauftible fund of wit : 
 but if I may venture to diftinguim, where 
 one knows not. even how to define, I mould 
 rather fay, it is brilliant than ftrong. This 
 talent renders her the terror of all her female 
 acquaintance j yet (he never facrificed the 
 abfent, or mortified the prefent, merely for 
 the fake of difplaying the force of her fatire : 
 if any feel its fting, it is thofe only who firft 
 provoke it. Still however it muft be own- 
 ed, that her refentments are frequently with- 
 out juft foundation, and almoft always be- 
 yond meafure. But tho' me has much 
 warmth, me has great generofity in her 
 temper ; and with all her faults, me is well 
 worth your knowing. 
 
 AND now having given you this general 
 plan of the ftrength and weaknefs of the 
 place, I leave you to make your approaches 
 as you fhall fee proper. I am, &c. 
 
 Y L E T
 
 [ 322 ] 
 
 LETTER LXIII. 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 I LOOK upon verbal criticifm, as it is ge- 
 nerally exercifed, to be no better than a 
 fort of learned legerdemain, by which the 
 fenfe or nonfenfe of a paflage is artfully con- 
 vey 'd away, and fome other introduced in 
 its ftead, as beft fuits with the purpofe of 
 the profound juggler. The diflertation you 
 recommended to my perufal, has but ferved 
 to confirm me in thefe fentiments : for tho' 
 I admired the ingenuity of the artift, I could 
 not but greatly fufped: thejuftnefs of an art, 
 which can thus prefs any author into the 
 fervice of any hypothefis. 
 
 I HAVE fometimes amufed myfelf with 
 confidering the entertainment it would af- 
 ford to thofe antients whofe works have had 
 the honor to be attended by our commen- 
 tators, could they rife out of their fepulchres 
 and perufe fome of thofe curious conjectures, 
 that have been raifed upon their refpective 
 compolitions. Were Horace, for inftance, 
 to read over only a few of thofe numberlefs 
 reftorers of his text, and expofitors of his 
 
 meaning,
 
 LETTER LXIII. 323 
 
 meaning, that have infefted the republic of 
 letters ; what a fund of pleafantry might he 
 extract for a fatire on critical erudition ? how 
 many harmlefs words would he fee cruelly 
 banimed from their rightful pofleffions, 
 merely becaufe they happened to difturb 
 fome unmerciful philologift? On the other 
 hand, he would undoubtedly fmile at that 
 penetrating fagacity, which has difcovered 
 meanings which never entered into his 
 thoughts, and found out concealed allufions 
 in his mod plain and artlefs expreflions. 
 
 ONE could not, I think, fet the general 
 abfurdity of critical conjectures in a {longer 
 light, than by applying them to fomething 
 parallel in our own writers. If the Englifh 
 tongue mould ever become a dead language, 
 and our beft authors be raifed into the rank 
 of claffic writers ; much of the force and 
 propriety of their expreffions, efpecially of 
 fuch as turned upon humor, or alluded to 
 any manners peculiar to the age, would in- 
 evitably be loft, or, at beft, would be ex- 
 tremely doubtful. How would it puzzle, 
 for inftance, future commentators to explain 
 Swift's epigram upon our mufical contefts ? 
 I imagine one might find them defcanting 
 Y 2 upon
 
 324 LETTER LXIII. 
 
 upon that little humorous fally of our Eng- 
 lifh Rabelais, in fome fuch manner as this : 
 
 EPIGRAM on the Feuds between 
 Handel and Bononcini. 
 
 Strange all this difference Jhould be 
 'Tivixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee ! 
 
 NOTES of 'various Authors. 
 
 " Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee."] I am 
 " perfuaded the poet gave it Twiddle-drum 
 " and Twiddle-key. To twiddle fignifies to 
 <{ make a certain ridiculous motion with 
 <c the fingers : what word therefore could 
 " be more proper to exprefs this epigram- 
 <{ writer's contempt of the performances of 
 " thofe muiicians, and of the folly of his 
 " contemporaries in running into parties up- 
 " on fo abfurd an occafion ? The drum was 
 * c a certain martial inftrument ufed in thofe 
 c< times; as the word key is a technical term 
 " in mufic, importing the fundamental 
 " note which regulates the whole compo- 
 <c fition. It means alfo thofe little pieces 
 " of wood, which the fingers flrike again ft 
 
 " in
 
 LETTER LXIII. 325 
 
 " in an organ, &c. in order to make the in- 
 " ftrument found. The alteration here 
 <f propofed is fo obvious and natural, that I 
 " am furprifed none of the commentators 
 <f hit upon it before. L.C.D. , 
 
 " Tiveedle-dum and T<weedle-dee.] Thefe 
 " words have greatly embarraffed the cri- 
 <f tics, who are extremely expert in finding 
 " a difficulty where there is none. Tweedle- 
 <c dum and Tweedle-dee are mofl undoubted- 
 " fy the names of the two muficians : and 
 " tho* they are flyled by different appel- 
 " lations in the title of this epigram, yet 
 " that is no objection, for it is well known 
 <k ' that perfons in thofe times had more fur- 
 <e names than one. S. M. Abfurd! here 
 " is evidently an error of the prefs, for there 
 " is not a fingle hint in all antiquity of the 
 ee family of the Tweedle-dums and Tiveedle- 
 * c dees. The learned S. M. therefore nod- 
 cc ded when he undertook to explain this 
 " paflage. The fenfe will be very plain if 
 " we read with a fmall alteration, Wbee- 
 cc die Tom and Waddle-THR, THE be- 
 <{ ing a known contradion for Theodore, 
 <l as Tom is for Thomas. Waddle and 
 Y 3 Wheedle
 
 326 LETTER LXIII. 
 
 ' Wheedle are like wife claflical words. 
 " Thus Pope : 
 
 " As when a dab-chick waddles thro the copfe. 
 
 Dun. ii. 59. 
 
 " Obliquely waddling to the mark in view. 
 
 Ib. ii. 150. 
 
 " And tho' indeed I do not recoiled: to 
 " have met with the verb to 'wheedle, in 
 " any pure author, yet it is plain that it was 
 " in ufc, fince we find the participle wheed- 
 " ling in an antient tragedy compofed about 
 " thefe times : 
 
 <c A laughing^ toying* wheedling, whimpering 
 
 "Jhe 
 
 " Will make him amble on a goffip's meffage, 
 f< And hold the diftaff with a hand as patient 
 " As e$r did Hercules. JANE SHORE. 
 
 <e 'Thomas and Theodore therefore were moji 
 <{ certainly the Chriftian names of thefe two 
 " muficianSj to the contractions of which 
 < the words wheedle, and waddle are added 
 " as characteriftical of the perfons and difpo- 
 " fitions of the men : the former imply- 
 " ing that Tom was a mean fycophant, and 
 
 " the
 
 LETTER LXIII. 327 
 
 c< the latter that THE had an aukvvard 
 " and ridiculous gait." F. J. Z. 
 
 I KNOW not, Orontes, how I mall efcapc 
 your fatire, for venturing to be thus free 
 with a fcience which is fometimes, I think, 
 admitted into a (hare of your meditations : 
 yet, tell me honeftly, is not this a faithful 
 fpecimen of the fpirit and talents of the ge- 
 neral clafs of critic- writers? Far am I, how- 
 ever, from thinking irreverently of thofe 
 ufeful members of the republic of letters, 
 who, with modefty and proper diffidence, 
 have offered their affiftance in throwing a 
 light upon obfcure paflages in antient au*- 
 thors. Even when this fpirit breaks forth 
 in its higheft pride and petulance of refor- 
 mation, if it confines itfelf to claffical inqui- 
 ries, I can be contented with treating it only 
 as an object of ridicule. But, I mutt con- 
 fefs, when I find it, with an allured and 
 confident air, fupporting religious or politi- 
 cal doctrines upon the very uncertain foun- 
 dation of various readings, forced analogies, 
 and precarious conjectures, it is not without 
 fome difficulty I can fupprefs my indigna- 
 tion. Farewel. 
 
 Y 4 LET-
 
 [ 328 ] 
 LETTER LXIV. 
 
 To P H I L O T E S, 
 
 Tunbridge, Aug. 4. 
 
 1 THINK I promifed you a letter from 
 this place : yet I have nothing more ma- 
 terial to write than that I got fafe hither. 
 To any other man I mould make an apo- 
 logy for interrupting him with an in inform- 
 ation fo trivial; but among true friends there 
 is nothing indifferent, and what would feem 
 of no confequence to others, has in inter- 
 courfes of this nature its weight and value. 
 A by-ftander, unacquainted with play, may 
 fancy, perhaps, that the counters are of no 
 more worth than they appear; but thofe 
 who are engaged in the game, know they 
 are to be confidered at an higher rate. You 
 fee I draw my allufions from the fcene be- 
 fore me : a propriety which the critics, I 
 think, upon fome occafions recommend. 
 
 I HAVE often wondered what odd whim 
 could firft induce the healthy to follow the 
 fick into places of this fort, and lay the fcene 
 of their diverfions amidft the moft wretch- 
 ed part of our fpecies : one mould imagine 
 
 an
 
 LETTER LXIV. 329 
 
 an hofpital the laft fpot in the world, to 
 which thofe who are in purfuit of pleafure 
 would think of reforting. However fo it 
 is; and by this means the company here fur- 
 nih out a tragi-comedy of the moft fingu- 
 lar kind. While fome are literally dying, 
 others are expiring in metaphor ; and in one 
 fcene you are prefented with the real, and 
 in another with the fantaftical pains of man- 
 kind. An ignorant fpeclator might be apt 
 to fufpect, that each party was endeavoring 
 to qualify itfelf for acting in the oppofite 
 character : for the infirm cannot labor more 
 earneftly to recover the ftrength they have 
 loft, than the robuft to diffipate that which 
 they pofTefs. Thus the difeafed pafs not 
 more anxious nights in their beds, than the 
 healthy at the hazard-tables; and I frequent- 
 ly fee a game at quadrille occafion as fevere 
 difquietudes as a. fit of the gout. As for 
 myfelf, I perform a fort of middle part in 
 this motly drama, and am fometimes dif- 
 pofed to join with the invalids in envying 
 the healthy, and fometimes have fpirits 
 enough to mix with the gay in pitying the 
 fplenetic. 
 
 THE
 
 330 LETTER LXV. 
 
 THE truth is, I have found fome benefit 
 by the waters j but I mall not be fo fan- 
 guine as to pronounce with certainty of 
 their effects, till I fee how they enable me 
 to pafs thro' the approaching winter. That 
 feafon, you know, is the time of trial with 
 me ; and if I get over the next with more 
 cafe than the laft, I {hall think myfelf ob- 
 liged to celebrate the nymphs ofthefe fprings 
 in grateful fonnet. 
 
 BUT let times and feafons operate as they 
 may, there is one part of me over which 
 they will have no power ; and in all the 
 changes of this variable conftitution, my 
 heart will ever continue fixed and firmly 
 yours. I am, 6cc. 
 
 LETTER LXV. 
 
 To O R O N T E S. 
 
 May 6, 1735. 
 
 LET others confider^you for thofe am- 
 ple pofleffions you enjoy : fufFer me 
 to fay, that it is your application of them 
 alone which renders either them or you va- 
 luable in my eftimation. Your fplendid 
 roofs and elegant accommodations I can 
 
 view
 
 LETTER LXV. 331 
 
 view without the leaft emotion of envy : 
 but when I obferve you in the full power 
 of exerting the noble purpofes of your exalt- 
 ed generofity it is then, I confefs, I am 
 apt to reflect, with fome regret, on the hum- 
 bler fupplies of my own more limited 
 finances. Nihilhabet (tofpeakof you in the 
 fame language that the firft of orators ad- 
 drefled the greateft of emperors) for tuna 
 tua majiiSy quam ut poffis, nee natura meli- 
 its, quam ut velis, fervare quamplurimos. 
 To be able to foften the calamities of man- 
 kind, and infpire gladnefs into a heart op- 
 preffed with want, is indeed the nobleft 
 privilege of an enlarged fortune : but to 
 exercife that privilege in all. its generous re- 
 finements, is an inftance of the moft un- 
 common elegance both of temper and un- 
 derftanding. 
 
 IN the ordinary difpenfations of bounty, 
 little addrefs is required : but when it is to 
 be applied to thofe of a fuperior rank and 
 more elevated mind, there is as much cha- 
 rity difcovered in the manner as in the mea- 
 fure of one's benevolence. It is fomething 
 extremely mortifying to a well- formed 
 Ipirit, to fee itfelf considered as an objed: of 
 
 companion -,
 
 332 LETTER LXV. 
 
 compaffion ; as it is the part of improved 
 humanity to humor this honeft pride in our 
 nature, and to relieve the neceOities without 
 offending the delicacy of the diftreffed.- 
 
 I HAVE fecn charity (if charity it might 
 be called) infult with an air of pity, and 
 wound at the fame time that it healed. But 
 I have feen too the higheft munificence dif- 
 penfed with the moft refined tendernefs, 
 and a bounty conferred with as much ad- 
 drefs as the moft artful would employ in fo- 
 liciting one. Suffer me, Orontes, upon 
 this iingle occafion, to gratify my own in- 
 clinations in violence to yours, by pointing 
 out the particular inftance I have in my 
 view 5 and allow me, at the fame time, to 
 join my acknowledgments with thofe of 
 the unfortunate perfon I recommended to 
 your protection, for the generous affiftance 
 you lately afforded him. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 333 1 
 LETTER LXVI. 
 
 20 C L E O R A. 
 
 Sept. 5, 1737. 
 
 SHALL I own to you that I cannot re- 
 pent of an offence which occafioned me 
 fo agreeable a reproof? A cenfure conveyed 
 in fuch genteel terms, charms more than it 
 corrects, and tempts rather than reforms. 
 I am fure at leaft, tho' I mould regret the 
 crime, I mall always admire the rebuke, 
 and long to kifs the hand that chafteneth in 
 fo pleafing a manner. However, I mall 
 for the future ftriclly purfue your orders, 
 and have fent you in this fecond parcel no 
 other books than what my own library fup- 
 plied. Among thefe you will find a collec- 
 tion of letters. I do not recommend them 
 to you, having never read them ; nor in- 
 deed am I acquainted with their characters: 
 but they presented themfelves to my hands 
 as I was tumbling over fome others ; fo I 
 threw them in with the reft, and gave them 
 a chance of adding to your amufement. I 
 wim I could meet with any thing that had 
 
 even
 
 334 LETTER LXVI. 
 
 even the leaft probability of contributing to 
 mine. But 
 
 forlorne of tbee, 
 
 Whether jhall I betake me, where fuhfift ? 
 
 MILT. 
 
 Time that reconciles one to moft things, 
 has not been able to render your abfence in 
 any degree lefs uneafy to me. I may rather 
 be faid to haunt the houfe in which I live, 
 than to make one of the family. I walk in- 
 and out of the rooms like a reftlefs fpirit : 
 for I never fpeak till I am fpoken to, and 
 then generally anfwer, like Banco's ghoft 
 in Macbeth, with a deep figh and a nod. 
 Thus abftracted from every thing about me, 
 I am yet quite ruined for a hermit, and find 
 no more fatisfaction in retirement than you 
 do in the company of * * *. 
 
 How often do I wifh myfelf in pofTem*- 
 on of that famous ring you were mentioning 
 the other day, which had the property of 
 rendering thofe who wore it invifible. I 
 would rather be mafter of this wonderful 
 unique, than of the kingdom which Gyges 
 gained by means of it ; as I might then at- 
 tend you like your guardian angel, with- 
 out
 
 LETTER LXVI. 335 
 
 out cenfure or obftruclion. How agreeable 
 would it be to break out upon you, like 
 ^Eneas from his cloud, where you lead 
 expected me ; and join again the dear com- 
 panion of my fortunes, in fpite of that re- 
 lentlefs power who has raifed fo many cruel 
 ftorms to deftroy us ! But whilft I employ- 
 ed this extraordinary ring to thefe and a 
 thoufand other pieafing purpofes, you would 
 have nothing to apprehend from my being 
 inverted with fuch an invifible faculty. That 
 innocence which guards and adorns my 
 Cleora in her moft gay and public hours, 
 attends her, I well know, in her moft pri- 
 vate and retired ones ; and (he who always 
 acts as under the eye of the beft of beings, 
 has nothing to fear from the fecret infpection 
 of any mortal. Adieu. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 336 ] 
 LETTER LXVIL 
 
 70 EUPHRONIUS. 
 
 May 5, 1743. 
 
 IF you received the firft account of my 
 lofs from other hands than mine ; you 
 mufl impute it to the dejection of mind in- 
 to which that accident threw me. The 
 blow, indeed, fell with too much feverity, 
 to leave me capable of recollecting myfelf 
 enough to write to you immediately ; as 
 there cannot, perhaps, be a greater fhock 
 to a bread of any fenfibility, than to fee its 
 earlieft and moft valuable connexions irre- 
 parably broken ; than to find itfelf for ever 
 torn from the firft and moft endeared object 
 of its higheft veneration. At leaft, the af- 
 fection and efteem I bore to that excellent 
 parent, were founded upon fo many and fuch 
 uncommon motives, that his death has 
 given me occafion to lament not only a moft 
 tender father, but a moft valuable friend. 
 
 THAT I can no longer enjoy the benefit 
 of his animating example, is one among the 
 many aggravating circumftances of my af- 
 fliction ;
 
 LETTER LXVII. 337 
 
 flidlion j and I often apply to myfelf, what 
 an excellent antient has faid upon a fimilar 
 occafion, Vereor m nunc neglige ntius vivam. 
 There is nothing, in truth, puts us fomuch 
 upon our guard, as to at under the conftant 
 infpe&ion of one, whofe virtues, as well as 
 years, have rendered him venerable. Never 
 indeed, did the dignity of goodnefs appear 
 more irreliftible in any man : Yet there 
 was fomething at the fame time fo gentle 
 in his manners, fuch an innocency and 
 chearfulnefs in his converfation, that he 
 was as fure to gain affe&ion as to infpire 
 reverence. 
 
 IT has been obferved (and I think, by 
 Cowley) tc That a man in much bufmefs 
 t muft either make himfelf a knave, or 
 " the world will make him a fool." If 
 there is any truth in this obfervation, it is 
 not, however, without an exception. My 
 father was early engaged in the great fcenes 
 of bufmefs, where he continued almoft to 
 his very laft hour j yet he preferved his in- 
 tegrity firm and unbroken, thro' all thofe 
 powerful afTaults he muft neceffarily have 
 encountered in fo long a courfe of action. 
 
 Z IF
 
 338 LETTER LXV1I. 
 
 IF it were juftice, indeed, to his other 
 virtues, to (ingle out any particular one as 
 mining with fuperior luftre to the reft ; I 
 mould point to his probity as the brighteft 
 part of his character. But the truth is, the 
 whole tenor of his conduct was one uniform 
 exercife of every moral quality, that can ad- 
 orn and exalt human nature. To defend 
 the injured, to relieve the indigent, to pro- 
 tect the diftreffed, was the chief end and 
 aim of all his endeavors ; and his principal 
 motive both for engaging and perievering in 
 his profemon was, to enable himfelf more 
 abundantly to gratify fo glorious an ambi- 
 tion. 
 
 No man had a higher relifh of the plea- 
 fures of retired and contemplative life -, as 
 none was more qualified to enter into thofe 
 calm fcenes with greater eafe and dignity. 
 He had nothing to make him defirous of 
 flying from the reflections of his own mind ; 
 nor any paffions which his moderate patri- 
 mony would not have been more than fuf- 
 ficient to have gratified. But to live for 
 himfelf only, was not confiftent with his 
 generous and enlarged fentiments. .It was 
 3 fpirit of benevolence that led him into the 
 
 active
 
 LETTER LXVII. 339 
 
 aftive fcenes of the worlcf; which upon 
 any other principle he would either never 
 have entered, or foon have renounced. And 
 it was that godlike fpirit, which conducted 
 and fupported him thro' his ufeful pro- 
 grefs, to the honor and interefl of his fami- 
 ly and friends, and to the benefit of every 
 creature, that could polTibly be compre- 
 hended within the extenfive circle of his 
 beneficence. 
 
 I WELL know, my dear Euphronius, 
 the high regard you pay to every character 
 of merit in general, and the efteem in 
 which you held this moft valuable man in 
 particular. I am fure, therefore, you would 
 not forgive me were I to make an apology 
 for leaving with you this private monument 
 of my veneration for a parent, whofe lead 
 and loweft claim to my gratitude and efteem 
 is, that I am indebted to him for my birth. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 7.2 LET-
 
 f 340 ] 
 
 LETTER LXVIII. 
 
 To P H I L O T E S. 
 
 I AM particularly pleafed with a paffage in 
 Homer, wherein Jupiter is reprefented 
 as taking off his eyes, with a fort of fatiety, 
 from the horror of the field of battle, and 
 relieving himfelf with a view of the Hippo- 
 molgi 3 a people famous, it feems, for their 
 innocence and fimplicity of manners. It is 
 in order to pra&ife the fame kind of experi- 
 ment, and give myfelf a fhort remiffion from 
 that fcene of turbulence and contention in 
 which I am engaged, that I now turn my 
 thoughts on you, Philotes, whofe tempe- 
 rance and moderation may well juftify me 
 in calling a modern Hippomolgian. 
 
 I FORGET which of the antients it is, 
 that recommends this method of thinking 
 over the virtues of one's acquaintance : but 
 I am fure it is fometimes necefiary in order 
 to keep one's felf in humor with our fpe- 
 cies, and preferve the fpirit of philan- 
 thropy from being entirely extinguished. 
 Thole who frequent the ambitious walks of 
 life, are apt to take their eftimate of man- 
 kind
 
 LETTER LXVIII. 341 
 
 k'md from the fmall part of it that lies before 
 them, and confider the reft of the world as 
 practifing, in different and under-parts, the 
 fame treachery and diifimulation which 
 marks out the characters of their fuperiors. 
 It is difficult indeed to preferve the mind 
 from falling into a general contempt of our 
 race, whilft one is converfant with the worft 
 part of it. I labor, however, as much as 
 poffible, to guard againft that ungenerous 
 difpofition ; as nothing is fo apt to kill thofe 
 feeds of benevolence which every man 
 ihould endeavour to cultivate in his bread:. 
 
 ILL furely, therefore, have thofe wits 
 employed their talents, who have made bur 
 fpecies the object of their fatire, and affect- 
 ed to fubdue the vanity, by derogating from 
 the virtues, of the human heart. But it will 
 be found, I believe, upon an impartial exa- 
 mination, that there is more folly than ma- 
 lice in our natures, and that mankind oftener 
 act -wrong through ignorance than defign. 
 Perhaps the true meafure of human merit 
 is neither to be taken from the hiftories of 
 former times, nor from what pafTes in the 
 more Striking fcenes of the prefent genera- 
 tion. The greateft virtues have, probably, 
 Z 3 been
 
 342 LETTER LXVIII. 
 
 been ever the moft obfcure ; and, I am per- 
 fuaded, that in all ages of .the world more 
 genuine heroifm has been overlooked and 
 unknown, than either recorded or obferved. 
 That aliquid divinum, as Tally calls it, that 
 celeftial fpark which every man, who cool- 
 ly contemplates his own mind, may difco- 
 ver within him, operates where we leaft 
 look for it, and often raifes the nobleft pro- 
 ductions of virtue in the {hade and obfcu- 
 rity of life. 
 
 BUT it is time to quit fpeculation for ac- 
 tion, and return to the common affairs of 
 the world. I fhall certainly do fo with more 
 advantage, by keeping Philotes ftill in my 
 view j as I fhall enter into the interefts of 
 mankind with more alacrity, by thus con- 
 fidering the virtues of his honeft heart as 
 kfs fingular than I am fometimes inclined 
 to fuppofe. Adieu,. 
 
 LETTER
 
 [ 343 ]' 
 
 LETTER LXIX, 
 
 3o the fame. 
 
 Auguft 3 , 1735. 
 
 LET it not be any difcouragement to 
 you, Philotes, that you have hitherto 
 received but little fatisfaction from thofe 
 noble fpeculations wherein you are employed. 
 " Truth (to ufe the expreflion of the excel- 
 lent Mr. Wollaflon) " is the offspring of 
 " unbroken meditations, and of thoughts 
 tc often revifed and corrected." It requires 
 indeed great patience and refolution to difll- 
 pate that cloud of darknefs which furrounds 
 her; or (if you will allow me to go to an 
 old philofopher for my allufion) to draw her 
 up from that profound well in which me 
 lies concealed. 
 
 THERE is, however, fuch a general con- 
 nexion in the operations of nature, that the 
 difcovery even of a fingle truth opens the 
 way to numberlefs others; and when once 
 the mind has hit upon a right fcent, me. 
 qannot wholly purfue her inquiries in vain : 
 
 Z A. Canes
 
 344 LETTER LXIX. 
 
 Canes ut montivagte perfape ferdi 
 Naribus inveniunt inteffas frunde quietes. 
 Cum femel mftiterunt veftigia cert a via'i : 
 Sic allud ex alio per te tute ipfe videre 
 in rebus poteris y cacafqiie latebras 
 Infinuare omnes, et verum protahere inde. 
 
 LUCRET. 
 
 IT muft be owned neverthelefs, that, af- 
 ter having exerted all our fagacity and in- 
 duftry, we {hall fcarce arrive at certainty in 
 many fpeculative truths. Providence does 
 not feem to have intended that we mould 
 ever be in pofleffion of demonftrati've know- 
 ledge, beyond a very limited compafs j tho' 
 at the fame time it cannot be fuppofed, with- 
 out the highefr, injuftice to the benevolent 
 Author of our natures, that he has left any 
 neceflary truths without evident notes of 
 diftinction. But while the powers of the 
 mind are thus limited in their extent, and 
 greatly fallible likewife in their operations, 
 is it not amazing, Philotes, that mankind 
 fhould infult each other for difference in o- 
 pinion, and treat every notion that oppofes 
 their own with obloquy and contempt? 
 Is it not amazing that a creature with ta- 
 lents
 
 LETTER LXIX. 345 
 
 lents fo precarious and circumfcribed, mould 
 ufurp that confidence which can only be- 
 long to much fuperior beings, and claim a 
 deference which is due to perfection alone? 
 Surely the greateft arrogance that ever en- 
 tered into the human heart, is that which 
 not only pretends to be pofitive itfelf in 
 points wherein the beft and wifeft have dif- 
 agreed, but looks down with all the info- 
 lent fuperiority of contemptuous pity on 
 thofe, whofe impartial reafonings have led 
 them into oppofite conclufions. 
 
 THERE is nothing, perhaps, more evident 
 than that our intellectual faculties are not 
 formed by one general ftandard; and confe- 
 quently that diverfity of opinion is of the 
 very eflence of our natures. It feems proba- 
 ble that this difparity extends even to our 
 fenfitive powers ; and tho' we agree indeed 
 in giving the fame names to certain vifible 
 appearances, as whitenefs, for inftance, to 
 fnow , yet it is by no means demonftration, 
 that the particular body which affects us 
 with that fenfation, raifes the fame precife 
 idea in any two perfons who mall happen to 
 contemplate it together. Thus I have often 
 heard you mention your youngeft daughter 
 
 as
 
 346 LETTER LXIX. 
 
 as being the exact counter-part of her mo- 
 ther: now flie does not appear to me to re- 
 femble her in any fingle feature. To what 
 can this difagreement in our judgments be 
 owing, but to a difference in the ftructure 
 of our organs of fight? yet as juftly, Philo- 
 tes, might you difclaim me for your friend, 
 and look upon me with contempt, for not 
 difcovering a iimilitude which appears fo 
 evident to your eyes; as any man can abufe 
 or defpife another for not apprehending the 
 force of that argument, which carries con- 
 viction to his own underftanding. 
 
 HAPPY had it been for the peace of the 
 world, if our maintainers of fyftems either 
 in religion or politics, had conducted their 
 feveral debates with the full imprefTion of 
 this truth upon-their minds. Genuine phi- 
 lofophy is ever, indeed, the leaft dogmati- 
 cal j and I am always inclined to fufpect the 
 force of that argument, which is obtruded 
 with arrogance and fufficiency. 
 
 I AM wonderfully pleafed with a paflage 
 I met with the other day in the preface to 
 Mr. Boyle's Philofophical eiTaysj and would 
 recommend that cautious fpirit, by which 
 jie profefles to have conducted himfelf in 
 
 his
 
 LETTER LXIX. 347 
 
 his phyfical refearches, as worthy the imi- 
 tation of inquirers after truth of every 
 kind. 
 
 " PERHAPS you will wonder, fays he, 
 " that in almoft every one of the following 
 < efTays, I fhould ufe fo often, perhaps, it 
 "feews, 'tis not improbable > as arguing a dif- 
 " fidenee of the truth of the opinions I in- 
 " cline to ; and that I fhould be fo fhy of 
 " laying down principles, and fometimes 
 " of fo much as venturing at explications. 
 ct But I muft freely confefs, that having 
 " met with many things of which I could 
 <c give myfelf no one probable caufe, and 
 " fome things of which feveral caufes may 
 " be affigned fo differing, as not to agree 
 " in any thing, unlefs in their being all of 
 " them probable enough ; I have often 
 " found fuch difficulties in fearching into 
 " the caufes and manner of things, and I 
 " am fo fenfible of my own difability to 
 cc furmount thofe difficulties, that I dare 
 " fpeak confidently and pofitively of very 
 " few things, except matter of facl. And 
 <c when I venture to deliver any thing by 
 " way of opinion, I fhould, if it were not 
 ? c for mere fhame, fpeak yet more diffiV 
 
 " dently
 
 348 LETTER LXIX. 
 
 " dently than I have been wont to do. Nor 
 * c have my thoughts been altogether idle 
 " in forming notions and attempting to de- 
 " vife hypothefes. But I have hitherto (tho' 
 " not always, yet not unfrequently) found 
 < that what pleafed me for a while, was 
 " foon after difgraced by fome farther or 
 (t new experiment. And, indeed, I have 
 <( the lefs envied many (for I fay not all) 
 " of thofe writers who have taken upon 
 cc them to deliver the caufes of things, and 
 " explicate the myfteries of nature, fmce I 
 * c have had the opportunity to obferve how 
 <e many of their doctrines, after having been 
 " for a while applauded and even admired, 
 " have afterwards been confuted by fome 
 " new phenomenon in nature which was 
 " either unknown to fuch writers, or not 
 " fufficiently confidered by them/' 
 
 IF pofitivenefs could become any man in 
 any point of mere fpeculation, it muft have 
 been this truly noble philofopher when he 
 was delivering the refult of his ftudies in a 
 fcience, wherein, by the united confeffion. 
 of the whole world, he fo eminently excel- 
 led. But he had too much generofity to 
 prefcribe his own notions as a meafure to 
 
 the
 
 LETTER LXX. 349 
 
 the judgment of others, and too much good 
 fenfe to afiert them with heat or confi- 
 dence. 
 
 WKOEVER, Philotes,purfueshisfpccula- 
 tions with this humble unarrogating tem- 
 per of mind, and with the beft exertion of 
 thofe faculties which Providence has affign- 
 ed him ; tho' he fhould not find the con- 
 viction, never, furely, can he fail of the 
 reward of truth. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER LXX. 
 
 To PALAMEDES. 
 
 IF malice had never broken loofe upon the 
 world, till it feized your reputation, I 
 might reafonably condole with you on fall- 
 ing the firft prey to its unreftrained rage. 
 But this fpeclre has haunted merit almoft 
 from its earlieft exiftence : and when all 
 mankind were as yet included within a fin- 
 gle family, one of them, we know, rofe 
 up in malignity of foul againft his innocent 
 brother. Virtue, it fliould feem therefore, 
 has now been too long acquainted with this 
 her conftant perfecutor, to be either terrified 
 
 or
 
 350 LETTER LXX. 
 
 or dejected at an appearance fo common. 
 The truth of it is, (he muft either renounce 
 her nobleft theatre of action, and feclude 
 herfelf in cells and defarts, or be contented 
 to enter upon the ftage of the world with 
 this fiend in her train. She cannot triumph, 
 if {he will not be traduced j and (he mould 
 confider the clamors of cenfure, when join- 
 ed with her own confcious applaufe, as fo 
 many acclamations that confirm her vic- 
 tory. 
 
 LET thofc who harbor this worft of hu- 
 man difpofitions, confider the many wretch- 
 ed and contemptible circumftances which 
 attend it : but it is the bufinefs of him who 
 unjuftly fuffers from it, to reflect how it 
 may be turned to his advantage. Remem- 
 ber then, my friend, that Generofity would 
 \ lofe half her dignity, if malice did not con- 
 tribute to her elevation j and he that has 
 never been injured, has never had it in his 
 power to exercife the nobleft privilege of he- 
 roic virtue. There is another confolation 
 which may be derived from the rancor of 
 the world, as it will inftruct one in a piece 
 of knowledge of the mo.ft fingular benefit 
 in our progrefs thro' it : It will teach us to 
 
 diftinguifh
 
 LETTER LXX. 351 
 
 diftinguifh genuine friendship from counter- 
 feit. For he only who is warmed with the 
 real flame of amity, will rife up to fupport 
 his fingle negative, in oppofition to the cla- 
 morous votes of an undiftinguiming mul- 
 titude. 
 
 HE indeed, who can fee a cool and deli- 
 berate injury done to his friend, without 
 feeling himfelf wounded in his moft fenfible 
 part j has never known the force of the moft 
 generous of all the human affections. Eve- 
 ry man who has not taken the facred name 
 of friendfhip in vain, will fubfcribe to thofe 
 fentiments which Homer puts into the 
 mouth of Achilles, and which Mr. Pope 
 has opened and enlarged with fuch inimita- 
 ble ftrength and fpirit : 
 
 A gen 'rous friend/hip no cold medium knows, 
 Burns <with one love, 'with one rejentment 
 
 g/GWS', 
 
 One fiould our int'rejls andour pajjlom be: 
 My friend mitjl hate the man that injures me. 
 
 It may greatly alfo allay the pain which at- 
 tends the wounds of defamation, and which 
 are always moft feverely felt by thole who 
 
 leaft
 
 352 LETTER LXX. 
 
 leaft deferve them ; to reflect, that tho' 
 malice generally flings the firfl ftone, it is 
 folly and ignorance, it is indolence or irre- 
 folution, which are principally concerned 
 in fwelling the heap. When the tide of 
 cenfure runs ftrongly againft any particular 
 character, the generality of mankind are 
 too carelefs or too impotent to withfbnd 
 the current : and thus, without any parti- 
 cular malice in their own natures, are of- 
 ten indolently carried along with others, by 
 tamely falling in with the general ftream. 
 The number of thofe who really mean one 
 harm, will wonderfully leffen after the de- 
 ductions which may fairly be made of this 
 fort : and the cup of unjuft reproach muft 
 furely lofe much of its bitternefs, where 
 one is perfuaded that malevolence has the 
 leaft fhare in mingling the draught. For 
 nothing, perhaps, ftings a generous mind 
 more fenfibly in wrongs of this fort, than 
 to coniider them as evidences of a general 
 malignity in human nature. But from 
 whatever caufes thefe ftorms may arife, Vir- 
 tue would not be true to her own native 
 privileges, if me fullered herfelf to (ink un- 
 der them. It is from that ftrength and firm- 
 
 nefs
 
 LETTER LXXL 353 
 
 nefs which upright intentions will ever fe- 
 cure to an honeft mind, that, Palamedes, I 
 am perfuaded will ftand fuperior to thofe 
 unmerited reproaches which afTault his 
 character ; and preferve an unbroken repofe 
 amidft the little noife and flrife of ignorant, 
 or malicious tongues. Farewel. 
 
 LETTER LXXL 
 
 To P H I L O T E S. 
 
 April 9, 1740. 
 
 THERE is no advantage which at- 
 tends a popular genius that I am fo 
 much inclined to envy, as the privilege of 
 rendering merit confpicuous. An author 
 who has raifed the attention of the public 
 to his productions, and gained a whole na- 
 tion for his audience, may be confidered as 
 guardian of the temple of Fame, and inveft- ! 
 ed with the prerogative of giving entrance 
 to whomfoever he deems worthy of that 
 glorious diftintlion. But the praife of an 
 ordinary writer obftrudts rather than ad- 
 vances the honor due to merit, and fullies 
 the luftre it means to celebrate. Impotent 
 A a panegyric
 
 354 LETTER LXXI. 
 
 panegyric operates like a blight wherever it 
 falls, and injures all that it touches. Ac- 
 cordingly, Henry the IV. of France was 
 wont humoroufly to afcribe his early grey 
 hairs, to the effect of numberlefs wretched 
 compliments, which were paid him by a 
 certain ridiculous orator of his times. But 
 tho' the wreaths of Folly mould not dif- 
 grace the temples they furround ; they wi- 
 ther, at leaft, as foon as received : and if 
 they mould not be offenlive, moft certainly, 
 however, they will be tranfient. Where- 
 as thofe on the contrary, with which an 
 Horace or a Boileau, an Addifon or a Pope, 
 have crowned the virtues of their contem- 
 poraries, are as permanent as they are v illu- 
 ftrious, and will preferve their colors and 
 fragrance to remoteft ages. 
 
 IF I could thus weave the garlands of un- 
 fading applaufe ; if I were in the number 
 of thofe chofen fpirits whofe approbation is 
 fame ; your friend mould not want that 
 diftinguifhing tribute which his virtues de- 
 ferve, and you requeft. I would tell the 
 world (and tell it in a voice that mould be 
 heard far and remembred long) that Eufe- 
 bes, with all the knowledge and experience 
 
 of
 
 LETTER LXXI. 355 
 
 of thefe later ages, has all the innocence and 
 fimplicity of the earlieft : that he enforces 
 the doctrines of his facred function, not 
 with the vain pomp of oftentatious elo- 
 quence, but with the far more powerful 
 perfuafion of active and exemplary virtue : 
 that he foftens the feverity of precept with 
 the eafe and familiarity of converfation, and 
 by generoufly mingling with the meanefl 
 committed to his care, insinuates the in- 
 ftructor under the air of the companion : 
 that whilft he thus fills up the circle of his 
 private ftation, he ftill turns his regards to 
 the public, and employs his genius, his in- 
 duftry, and his fortune in profecuting and 
 perfecting thofe difcoveries, which tend 
 moft to the general benefit of mankind : in 
 a word, that whilft others of his order are 
 contending for the ambitious prizes of eccle- 
 fiaftical dignities, it is his glorious prehemi- 
 nence to merit the higheft, without enjoy- 
 ing, or foliciting, even the loweft. This, and 
 yet more than this, the world mould hear 
 of your friend, if the world were inclined 
 to liften to my voice. But tho' you perhaps, 
 Philotes, may be willing to give audience 
 to my Mufe, 
 
 A a 2 namqne
 
 357 LETTER LXXII. 
 
 namque Tufolelas 
 Meas effe aliquid putare nugas. CATUL," 
 
 can fhe hope to find favor likewife in the 
 fight of the public ? Let me then, rather 
 content myfelf with the filent admiration of 
 thofe virtues which I am not worthy to ce- 
 lebrate ; and leave it to others to place the 
 good works of Eufebes where they may 
 Jhine forth before men. I am, &c. 
 
 LETTER LXXII. 
 
 To the fame. 
 
 Dec. 7, 1747. 
 
 H E vifits of a friend, like thofe of 
 the fun at this feafon, are extremely 
 enlivening. I am fure at leaft they would 
 both be particularly acceptable to me at pre- 
 fent, when my mind is as much overcaft 
 as the heavens. I hope, therefore, you will 
 not drop the defign your Letter intimates, of 
 fpending a few days with me in your way 
 to ***. Your company will greatly contri- 
 bute to difperfe thofe clouds of melancholy 
 which the lofs of a very valuable friend has 
 
 hung
 
 LETTER LXXII. 357 
 
 hung over me. There is fomething, in- 
 deed, in the firft moments of reparation from 
 thofe, whom a daily commerce and long 
 habitude of friendmip has grafted upon the 
 heart, that diforders our whole frame of 
 thought, and difcolors all one's enjoyments. 
 Let Philofophy affift with the utmoft of her 
 vaunted ftrength, the mind cannot imme- 
 diately recover the firmnefs of its pofture, 
 when thpfe amicable props upon which it 
 ufed to reft, are totally removed. Even the 
 moft indifferent objects with which we have 
 long been familiar, take fome kind of root 
 in our hearts j and " I fhould hardly care" 
 (as a celebrated author has, with great good- 
 nature, obferved) '* to have an old poft 
 " pulled up, which I remembered ever fince 
 " I was a child." 
 
 To know how to receive the full fatisfac- 
 tion of a prefent enjoyment, with a difpo- 
 fition prepared at the fame time to yield it 
 up without reluctance, is hardly, I doubt, 
 reconcileable to humanity : pain in being 
 difunited from thofe we love, is a tax we 
 muft be contented to pay, if we would en- 
 joy the pleafures of the focial affections. 
 One would not wifh, indeed, to be whol- 
 Aa 3 ly
 
 358 LETTER LXXII. 
 
 ly infenfible to difquietudes of this kind : and 
 we muft renounce the moft refined relifh of 
 our being, if we would upon all occafions 
 pofTefs our fouls in a Stoical tranquility. 
 
 THAT antient philofopher whofe precept 
 it was, to converfe with our friends as if 
 they might one day prove our enemies, has 
 been juftly cenfured as advancing a very un- 
 generous maxim. To remember, however, 
 that we muft one day moft certainly be di- 
 vided from them, is a reflection, methinks, 
 that mould enter with us into our tender 
 connections of every kind. From the pre- 
 fent difcompofure, therefore, of my own 
 breaft, and from that fliare which I take in 
 whatever may affect the repofe of yours, I 
 cannot bid you adieu, without reminding 
 you at the fame time of the ufeful caution 
 of one of your poetical acquaintance : 
 
 Quicquid amas, cupias non flacuiffe nimis. 
 I am, &c. 
 
 LET-
 
 [ 359 ] 
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 
 
 PALAMEDES. 
 
 Feb. 13, 1741. 
 
 IF one would rate any particular merit ac- 
 cording to its true valuation, it may be 
 neceflary, perhaps, to confider how far it 
 can be juftly claimed by mankind in general. 
 J am fure at Jeaft, when I red the very un- 
 common fentiments of your laft letter, I 
 found their judicious author rife in my 
 efteem, by reflecting, that there is not a 
 more fingular character in the world, than 
 that of a thinking man. It is not merely 
 having a fucceffion of ideas, which lightly 
 fkim over the mind, that can with any pro- 
 priety be ftyled by that denomination. It 
 is obferving them feparately and diftinctly, 
 and ranging them under their refpective 
 clafTes ; it is calmly and fteddily viewing 
 our opinions on every fide, and refolutely 
 tracing them thro' all their confequences and 
 connexions, that conftitutes the man of re- 
 flexion, and diftinguifhes reafon from fan- 
 cy. Providence, indeed, , does not feem to 
 have formed any very confiderable number 
 A a 4 of
 
 360 LETTER LXXIII. 
 
 of our fpecies for an extenfive exercife of 
 this higher faculty ; as the thoughts of the 
 far greater part of mankind are neceflarily 
 reflrained within the ordinary purpofes of 
 animal life. But if we look up even to 
 thofe who move in much fuperior orbits, 
 and who have opportunities to improve, as 
 well as leifure to exercife their underftand- 
 ings ; we fhall find, that thinking is one of 
 the laft exerted privileges of cultivated hu- 
 manity. 
 
 IT is, indeed,, an operation of the mind 
 which meets with many obftructions to 
 check its juft and free direction j but there 
 are two principles which prevail more or 
 lefs in the conftitutjons of moft men, that 
 particularly contribute to keep this faculty 
 of the foul unemployed : I mean pride and 
 indolence. To defcend to truth thro' the 
 tedious progreffion of well examined de- 
 ductions, is cqnfidered as a reproach to the 
 quicknefs of underftanding j as it is much 
 too laborious a method for any, but thofe 
 who are pofTefled of a vigorous and refolute 
 activity of mind. For this reafon, the greater 
 part of our fpecies generally choofe either 
 to feize upon their conclufions at once, or 
 
 to
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 361 
 
 to take them by rebound from others, as 
 befl fuiting with their vanity or their lazi- 
 nefs. Thus Mr. Locke ob.ferves, that there 
 are not fo many errors and wrong opinions 
 in the world, as is generally imagined. Not 
 that he thinks mankind are by any mean? 
 uniform in embracing truth j but becaufe 
 the majority of them, he maintains, have 
 no thought or opinion at all about thofe 
 doctrines, concerning which they raife the 
 greateft clamor. Like the common foldiers 
 in an army, they follow where their leaders 
 direct, without knowing, or even inquiring 
 into the caufe for which they fo warmly 
 contend. 
 
 THIS will account for the flow fteps by 
 which truth has advanced in the world, on 
 one fide; and for thofe abfurd fyftems 
 which, at different periods, have had an 
 univerfal currency on the other. For there 
 is a ftrange difpolition in human nature, ei- 
 ther blindly to tread the fame paths that 
 have been traverfed by others, or to ftrike 
 out into the moft devious extravagancies : 
 the greater part of the world will either to- 
 tally renounce their reafon, or reafon only 
 
 from
 
 362 LETTER LXXIII. 
 
 from the wild fuggeftions of an heated ima- 
 gination. 
 
 FROM the fame fource may be derived 
 thofe divifions and animofities, which break 
 the union both of public and private focie- 
 ties, and turn the peace and harmony of hu- 
 man intercourfe intodiflbnance and conten- 
 tion. For while men judge and act by fuch 
 meafures as have not been proved by the 
 ftandard of difpaffionate reafon, they muft 
 equally be miftaken in their eftimates both 
 of their own conduct and that of others. 
 
 IF we turn our view from active to con- 
 templative life, we may have occafion, per- 
 haps, to remark, that thinking is no lefs un- 
 common in the literary than the civil world. 
 The number of thofe writers who can with 
 any juftnefs of expreffion be termed think- 
 ing authors, would not form a very copious 
 library, tho' one were to take in all of that 
 kind which both antient and modern times 
 have produced. NecefTarily, I imagine, 
 muft one exclude from a collection of this 
 fort, all critics, commentators, modern La- 
 tin poets, tranilators, and, in fhort, all that 
 numerous under-tribe in the commonwealth 
 of literature that owe their exiftence mere- 
 
 )y
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 363 
 
 ly to the thoughts of others. I mould re- 
 ject for the fame reafon fuch compilers as 
 Valerius Maximus and Aulus Gellius : tho', 
 it mult be owned indeed, their works have 
 acquired an accidental value, as they pre- 
 ferve to us feveral curious traces of antiqui- 
 ty, which time would otherwife have en- 
 tirely worn out. Thofe teeming geniufes 
 likewife, who have propagated the fruits of 
 their fludies thro' a long feries of tracts, 
 would have little pretence, I believe, to be 
 admitted as writers of reflection. For this 
 reafon I cannot regret the lofs of thofe in- 
 credible numbers of compofitions, which 
 fome of the antients are faid to have pro- 
 duced : 
 
 Quakfuit Caffi rapido ferventius amni 
 Ingenium-y capfis quern fama eft ej/e, librifque 
 Ambujlum propriis. HOR. 
 
 Thus Epicurus, we are told, left behind 
 him three hundred volumes of his own 
 works, wherein he had not inferted a fingle 
 quotation ; and we have it upon the autho- 
 rity of Varro's own words -f-, that he him- 
 
 felf 
 
 t This paflage is to be found in Aul. Gellius, who 
 quotes it from a treatife which Varro had written con* 
 
 cerning
 
 364 LETTER LXXIII; 
 
 felf compofed four hundred and ninety 
 books. Seneca afTures us, that Didymus 
 the grammarian wrote no lefs than four 
 thoufand ; but Origen, it feems, was yet 
 more prolific, and extended his perform- 
 ances even to fix thoufand treatifes. -It is 
 obvious to imagine with what fort of mate- 
 rials the productions of fuch expeditious 
 workmen were wrought up: found thought 
 and well-matured reflections could have no 
 fhare, we may be fure, in thefe hafty per- 
 formances. Thus are books multiplied, 
 whilft authors are fcarce j and fo much ea- 
 fier is it to write than to think ! But (hall 
 I not myfelf, Pakmedes, prove an inftance 
 that it is fo, if I fufpend any longer your 
 own more important reflections, by inter- 
 rupting you with fuch as mine ? Adieu. 
 
 earning the wonderful effects of the number Seven. But 
 the fubjec~l of this piece cannot be more ridiculous, than 
 the ftyle in which it appears to have been compofed : 
 for that moft learned author of his times (as Cicero, if 
 I miftake not, fomewhere calls him) informed his rea- 
 ders in that performance, fe jam duodecimam annorum 
 hebdomadam ingrejjum effe t et ad eum diem feptuaginta 
 bebdomadas librorum conjcripfij/e. Aul. Gell. iii. 10. 
 
 LETT ER
 
 [ 365 1 
 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 70 O R O N T E S. 
 
 IT is with much pleafurc I look back up- 
 on that philofophical week, which I late- 
 ly enjoyed at ***, as there is no part per- 
 haps, of focial life, which affords more real 
 fatisfaclion, than thofe hours which one 
 paiTes in rational and unreferved converfa- 
 tion. The free communication of fenti- 
 ments amongft a fet of ingenious and fpecu- 
 lative friends, fuch as thofe you gave me the 
 opportunity of meeting, throws the mind 
 into the moil advantageous exercife, and 
 fliews the ftrength or wcaknefs of its opini- 
 ons with greater force of conviction, than 
 any other method we can employ. 
 
 THAT it is not good for man to be alone y 
 is true in more views of. our fpecies than 
 one ; and fociety gives ftrength to our rea- 
 fon as well as polim to our manners. The 
 foul, when left entirely to her own folitary 
 contemplations, is infenfibly drawn by a fort 
 of conftitutional bias, which generally leads 
 her opinions to the fide of her inclinations. 
 Hence it is that me contracts thofe peculia- 
 rities
 
 366 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 rities of reafoning, and little habits of think- 
 ing, which fo often confirm her in the moft 
 fantaflical errors. But nothing is more like- 
 ly to recover the mind from this falfe bent, 
 J:han the counter-warmth of impartial de- 
 bate. Converfation opens our views, and 
 gives our faculties a more vigorous play ; 
 it puts us upon turning our notions on eve- 
 ry fide, and holds them up to a light that 
 difcovers thofe latent flaws, which would 
 probably have lain concealed in the gloom 
 of unagitated abftraction. Accordingly one 
 may remark, that moft of thofe wild doc- 
 trines, which have been let loofe upon the 
 world, have generally owed their birth to 
 perfons, whofe circumftances or difpofi- 
 tions have given them the feweft opportu- 
 nities of canvaffing their refpective fyftems, 
 in the way of free and friendly debate. Had 
 the authors of many an extravagant hypo- 
 thefis, difcufied their principles in private cir- 
 cles, ere they had given vent to them in 
 public; the obfervation of Varro had ne- 
 ver, perhaps, been made (or never at leaft 
 with fo much juftice) that c< there is no 
 <c opinion fo abfurd, but has fome philofo- 
 " pher or other to produce in its fupport." 
 
 UPON
 
 LETTER LXXIV. 367 
 
 UPON this principle, I imagine, it is, 
 that fome of the fined pieces of antiquity 
 are written in the dialogue-manner. Plato 
 and Tully, it mould feem, thought truth 
 could never be examined with more advan- 
 tage, than amidft the amicable oppofition 
 of well-regulated converfe. It is probable, 
 indeed, that fubjects of a ferious and philo- 
 fophical kind were more frequently the to- 
 pics of Greek and Roman converfations, 
 than they are of ours ; as the circumftances 
 of the world had not yet given occafion to 
 thofe prudential reafons which may now, 
 perhaps, reftrain a more free exchange of 
 fentiments amongft us. There was fome- 
 thing, likewife, in the very fcenes them- 
 felves where they ufually aflembled, that 
 almoft unavoidably turned the ftream of 
 their converfations into this ufeful chanel. 
 Their rooms and Gardens were generally 
 adorned, you know, with the ftatues of the 
 greateft matters of reafon that had then ap- 
 peared in the world: and while Socrates 
 or Ariftotle flood in their view, it is ho 
 wonder their difcourfe fell upon thofe fub- 
 jecls, which fuch animating reprefentations 
 would naturally fuggeft. It is probable, 
 
 therefore,
 
 368 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 therefore, that many of thofe antient pieces 
 which are drawn up in the dialogue man- 
 ner, were no imaginary converfations in- 
 vented by their authors; but. faithful tran- 
 fcripts from real life. And it is this circum- 
 ftance, perhaps, as much as any other, 
 which contributes to give them that re- 
 markable advantage over the generality of 
 modern compofitions, which have been 
 formed upon the fame plan. I am fure, at 
 leafl, I could fcarce name more than three 
 or four of this kind which have appeared 
 in our language, worthy of notice. My 
 lord Shaftefbury's dialogue entitled The 
 Moralifts j Mr. Addifon's upon antient 
 Coins j Mr. Spence's upon the Odyffey ; 
 together with thofe of my very ingenious 
 friend Philemon to Hydafpes j are, almoft, 
 the only productions in this way, which 
 have hitherto come forth amongft us with 
 advantage. Thefe indeed, are all mafier- 
 pieces of the kind, and written in the true 
 fpirit of learning and politenefs. Thecon- 
 verfation in each of thefe mod elegant per- 
 formances is conducted, not in the ufual 
 abfurd method of introducing one difputant 
 to be tamely filenced by the other j but in 
 
 the
 
 LETTER LXXIV. 369 
 
 the more lively dramatic manner, where a 
 juft contrail: of characters is preferved 
 throughout, and where the feveral fpeakers 
 fupport their refpecftive fentiments with all 
 the ftrength and fpirit of a well-bred op- 
 pofition. 
 
 BUT of all the converfation-pieces, whe- 
 ther antient or modern, either of the mo- 
 ral or polite kind, I know not one which is 
 more elegantly written, than the little ano- 
 nymous dialogue concerning the rife and de- 
 cline of Eloquence among the Romans. I call 
 it anonymous, tho' I am fenfible it has been 
 afcribed, not only to Tacitus and Quindli- 
 lian, but even to Suetonius. The reafons, 
 which the critics have refpecTiively produced 
 are fo exceedingly precarious and incon- 
 clufive, that one mud have a very extraor- 
 dinary fhare -of claffical faith indeed, to 
 receive it as the performance of any of 
 thofe celebrated writers. It is evidently, 
 however, a competition of that period in 
 which they florifhed : and if I were dif- 
 pofed to indulge a conjecture, I mould be 
 inclined to give it to the younger Pliny. -It 
 exactly coincides with his age; it is addref- 
 fed to one of his particular friends and cor- 
 B b refpondents;
 
 370 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 refpondents ; it is marked with fome limi- 
 lar expreflloRS and ientiments. But as ar- 
 guments of this kind are always more im- 
 pofing than folid, I recommend it to you as 
 a piece, concerning the author of which, 
 nothing fatisfadtory can be collected. This 
 I may one day or other, perhaps, attempt 
 to prove in form, as I have amufed myfelf 
 with giving it an Englim drefs. In the 
 mean time 1 have enclofed my tranflation 
 in this packet ; not only with a view to 
 your fentiments, but in return to your fa- 
 vor. I was perfuaded I could not make 
 you a better acknowledgment for the plea- 
 fure of that converfation I lately participated 
 through your means, than .by introducing 
 you to one, which (if my copy is not ex- 
 tremely injurious to its original) I am fure, 
 you cannot attend to without equal enter- 
 tainment and advantage. Adieu. 
 
 ADiA-
 
 A DIALOGUE * concerning 
 
 ORATORY. 
 
 TO F A B I U S. 
 
 YOU have frequently, my friend, requi- 
 red me to affign a reafon whence it 
 has happened, that the Oratorical character, 
 which fpread inch a glorious luftre upon 
 former ages, is now fo totally extinct amongft 
 us, as fcarce to preferve even its name. It 
 is the anticnts alone, you obferved, whom 
 we diftinguifh with that appellation ; while 
 the Eloquent of the prefent times are flyled 
 only pleaders, patrons, advocates, or any 
 thing, in fliort, but Orators. 
 
 HARDLY, I believe, fhould I have at- 
 tempted a folution of your difficulty, or 
 ventured upon the examination of a quef- 
 tion wherein the genius of the moderns, if 
 they cannot, or their judgment, if they 
 
 * It is neceffkry to inform thofe readers of the fol- 
 lowing dialogue who may be difpofed to compare it with 
 the original, that the edition of Heumannus, printed 
 at Gottingerij 17195 has been generally followed. 
 
 13 b 2 will
 
 372 OF ORATORY: 
 
 will not, rife to the fame heights, muftne- 
 ceflarily be given up; had I nothing of 
 greater authority to offer upon the (abject, 
 than my own particular fentiments. But 
 having been prefent, in the very early part 
 of my life, at a converfation between fome 
 perfons of great eloquence, confi.lering the 
 age in which they lived, who difcufied this 
 very point; my memory, and not my judg- 
 ment, will be concerned, whilft I endeavor, 
 in their own ftyle and manner, and accord- 
 ing to the regular courfe of their debate, 
 to lay before you the feveral reafonings of 
 thofe celebrated geniufes: each of them, 
 indeed, agreeably to the peculiar turn and 
 character of the fpeaker, alledging diffe- 
 rent, tho' probable caufes of the fame fad:; 
 but all of them fupporting their refpeclive 
 opinions with ingenuity and good fenie. 
 Nor were the orators of the prefent age 
 without an advocate in this debate : for one 
 of the company took the oppofite fide, and 
 treating the antients with much feverity 
 and contempt, declared in favor of modern 
 eloquence. 
 
 MARCUS APER and Julius Secundus, 
 two diitinguifhed geniufes of our forum, 
 
 made
 
 A DIALOGUE. 373 
 
 made a vifit to Maternus the day after he 
 had publicly recited his tragedy of Cato : a 
 piece, which gave, it feems, great offence 
 to thofe in power, and was much canvaffed 
 in all conventions. Maternus, indeed, 
 feemed throughout that whole performance 
 to have confidered only what was fuitable 
 to the character of his hero, without paying 
 a proper regard to thofe prudential reftraints, 
 which were necefTary for his own fecurity. 
 I was at that time a warm admirer and con- 
 ftant follower of thofe great men 5 infomuch 
 that I not only attended them when they 
 were engaged in the courts of judicature ; 
 but, from my fond attachment to the arts 
 of eloquence and with a certain ardency 
 peculiar to youth, I joined in all their par- 
 ties, and was prefent at their moft private 
 converfations. Their great abilities, how- 
 ever, could not fecure them from the cri- 
 tics, who alledged, that Secundus had 
 by no means an eafy elocution ; whilft 
 Aper, they pretended, owed his reputation 
 as an orator, more to nature than to art. 
 It is certain, neverthelefs, that their ob- 
 jections were without foundation. The 
 fpeechesofthe former were always delivered 
 B b 3 with
 
 374 OF ORATORY: 
 with fufficient fluency ; as his expreffion 
 was clear, tho' concife ; and the latter had, 
 moft undoubtedly, a general tinclure of li- 
 terature. The trut,|i is, one could not fo 
 properly fay, that Aper was without, as 
 above the affiftance of learning. He ima- 
 gined, perhaps, the powers and application 
 of his genius would be fo much the more 
 admired, as it fhould not appear to derive 
 any of its luftre from the acquired arts. 
 
 WE found Maternus, when we entered 
 his apartment, with the tragedy in his hand 
 which he had recited the day before. Are 
 you then (faid Secundus, addreffing him- 
 felf to him) fo little difcouraged with the 
 malicious infinuations of thefe ill-natured 
 cenfurers, as ftill to cherifh this obnoxious 
 tragedy of yours ? Or perhaps, you are re- 
 yifing it, in order to expunge the exception- 
 able paffages j and purpofe to fend your 
 Cato into the world, I will not fay with fu- 
 pericr charms, but, at leaft, with greater 
 fecurity, than in its original form. You 
 may perufe it (returned he) if you pleafe ; 
 you will find it remains juft in the fame 
 fituation as when you heard it read. I in- 
 tend however, that Thyeftes (hall fupply 
 
 the
 
 A DIALOGUE. 375 
 
 tlue defects of Cato: for I am meditating a 
 tragedy upon that fubjed:, and have already, 
 indeed., formed the plan. I am haftening, 
 therefore, the publication of this play in my 
 hand, that I may apply myfelf entirely to 
 my new defign. Are you then, in good 
 earned (replied Aper) fo enamored of dra- 
 matic poetry, as to renounce the bulinefs of 
 oratory in order to confecrate your whole 
 leifure to Medea, I think, it was before, 
 and now, it feems, to Thyeftes ? when the 
 caufes of fo many worthy friends, the inte~ 
 refts of fo many powerful communities, de- 
 mand you in the forum : a task more than 
 fufficient to employ your attention, tho' 
 neither Cato nor Domitius had any {hare of 
 it ; tho' you were not continually turning 
 from one dramatic performance to another, 
 and adding the tales of Greece to the hiftory 
 of Rome. 
 
 I SHOULD be concerned, anfwered Ma- 
 ternus, at the feverity of your rebuke, if the 
 frequency of our debates upon tbis fubjed: 
 had not rendered it fomewhat familiar to 
 me. But how (added he, milling) can you 
 accufe me of deferting the buiincfs of my 
 profefTion, when I am every day engaged 
 B b 4 iq
 
 376 OF ORATORY: 
 
 in defending poetry againft your accufations ? 
 And I am glad (continued he, looking to- 
 wards Secundus) that we have now an op- 
 portunity of difcuffing this point before fo 
 competent a judge. His decifion will ei- 
 ther determine me to renounce all preten- 
 lions to poetry for the future, or (which I 
 rather hope) will be a fanction for my quit- 
 ting' that confined fpecies of oratory, in 
 which, methinks, I have fufficiently labor- 
 ed, and authorize the devoting myfelf to 
 the more extenfive and facred eloquence of 
 the Mufes. 
 
 GIVE me leave, interpofed Secundus, 
 before Aper takes exception to his judge, to 
 fay, what all honeft ones ufually do in the 
 fame circum (lances, that I delire to be ex- 
 cufed from fitting in judgment upon a caufe, 
 wherein I mud acknowledge myfelf biafled 
 in favor of a party concerned. All the 
 world is fenfible of that ftricT: friendmip 
 which has long fubfifted between me and 
 that excellent man, as well as great poet, 
 Saleius Baflus. To which let me add, if 
 the Mufes are to be arraigned, I know of 
 none who can offer more prevailing bribes. 
 
 I HAVE
 
 A DIALOGUE. 377 
 
 I HAVE nothing to alledge againft Baflus 
 (returned Aper) or any other man, who not 
 having talents for the bar, choofes to efta- 
 blifh a reputation of the poetical kind. Nor 
 fhall I fuffer Maternus (for I am willing to 
 join ifTue with him before you) to evade 
 my charge, by drawing others into his par- 
 ty. My accufation is levelled fingly againft 
 Him ; who, formed as he is by nature with 
 a mod mafculine and truly oratorical genius, 
 choofes to fuffer fo noble 'a faculty to lie 
 wade and uncultivated. I muft remind 
 him, however, that by the exercife of this 
 commanding talent, he might at once both 
 acquire and fupport the .moft important 
 \ friendships, and have the glory to fee whole 
 provinces and nations rank themfelves un- 
 der his patronage j a talent of all others, the 
 moft advantageous, whether considered with 
 refpect to intereft, or to honors ; a talent, 
 in fhort, that affords the moft illuftrious 
 [ means of propagating a reputation, not only 
 within our own Walls, but throughout the 
 whole compafs of the Roman empire, and 
 indeed to the moft diftant nations of the 
 globe. 
 
 IF utility ought to be the governing mo- 
 tive
 
 378 OF OR AT OR Y: 
 
 tive of every a&idn and every defign of our 
 lives j can we pofTibly be employed to bet- 
 ter purpofe, than in the exercife of an art, 
 which enables a man, upon all occaiions, 
 to fupport the intereft of his friend, to pro- 
 tect the rights of the ftranger, to defend the 
 caufe of the injured ? that not only renders 
 him the terror of his open and fecret adver- 
 faries, but fecures him, as it were, by the 
 moft firm and permanent guard ?' 
 
 THE particular ufefulnefs, indeed, of this 
 profeilion is evidently manifefted in the op- 
 portunities it fupplies of ferving others, tho' 
 we mould have no occafion to exert it in 
 our own behalf: bat fhould we, upon any ;. : . 
 occurrence, be ourfelves attacked; the fword 
 and buckler is not a more powerful defence 
 in the day of battle, than oratory in the dan- 
 gerous feafon of public arraignment. What 
 had Marcellus lately to oppofe to the united 
 refentment of the whole fenate, but his elo- 
 quence ? Yet fupported by that formida- 
 ble auxiliary, he flood firm and unmoved, 
 amidil all the afTaults of the artful Helvi- 
 dius : who, notwithstanding he was a man 
 of fenfe and elocution, was totally inexpert 
 in" the management of this fort of contefts. 
 
 But
 
 A DIALOGUE.' 379 
 
 But I need not infift farther on this head ; 
 well perfuaded as I am, that Maternus will 
 not controvert To clear a truth. Rather let 
 me obferve the pleafure which attends the 
 exercife of the perfualive arts : a pleafure, 
 which does not arife only once, perhaps, in 
 a whole life, but flows in a perpetual feries 
 of gratifications. What can be more agree- 
 able to a liberal and ingenuous mind, form- 
 ed with a relim of rational enjoyments, than 
 to fee one's levee crouded with a concourfe 
 of the moil: illuftrious perfonages ; not as 
 followers of your intereir, or your power j 
 not becaufe you are rich and deftitute of 
 heirs ; but fingly in confideration of your 
 fuperior qualifications ? It is not unufual 
 upon thefe occafions, to obferve the weal- 
 thy, the powerful, and the childlefs, ad- 
 drefTing themfelves to ayoung man (and pro- 
 bably no rich one) in favor of themfelves or 
 their friends. Tell me now, has authori- 
 ty or wealth a charm, equal to the fatisfac- 
 tion of thus beholding perfons of the high- 
 eft dignity, venerable by their age, or pow- 
 erful by their credit, in the full enjoyment 
 of every external advantage, courting your 
 affiftance, and tacitly acknowledging, that, 
 
 great
 
 380 OF ORATORY: 
 
 great and diftinguimed as they are, there 
 is fomething ftill wanting to them more va- 
 luable than all their poffeffions ? Reprefent 
 to yourfelf the honorable croud of clients 
 conducting the orator from his houfe, and 
 attending him in his return : think of the 
 glorious appearance he makes in public, the 
 diftinguifhing refpect that is paid to him in 
 the courts of judicature, the exultation of 
 heart when he rifes up before a full audi- 
 ence, hufhed in folemn filence and fixed 
 attention, preffing round the admired 
 fpeaker, and receiving every paffion he 
 deems proper to raife ? Yet thefe are but 
 the ordinary joys of eloquence, and vifible 
 to every common obferver. There are 
 others, and thofe far fuperior, of a more 
 concealed and delicate kind, and of which 
 the orator himfelf can alone be fenfible. 
 Does he ftand forth prepared with a ftudi- 
 ed harangue? As the competition, fo the 
 pleafure, in this inftance, is more folid and 
 equal. If, on the other hand, he rifes in a 
 new and unexpected debate, the previous 
 folicitude which he feels upon fuch occa- 
 lions, recommends and improves the plea- 
 fure of his fuccefs ; as indeed the moft ex- 
 
 quifite
 
 A DIALOGUE. 381 
 
 quifite fatisfa&ion of this kind is, when he 
 boldly hazards the unpremeditated fpeech. 
 For it is in the productions of genius, as in 
 the fruits of the earth; thofe which arife 
 fpcntaneoufly are ever the moft agreeable. 
 If I may venture to mention myfelf, I muft 
 acknowledge, that neither the fatisfaclion 
 I received, when I was firft inverted with the 
 laticlave, nor even when I entered upon the 
 feveral high pofts in the ftate ; though the 
 pleafure was heightened to me, not only as 
 thofe honors were new to my family, but 
 as I was born in a city by no means favora- 
 ble to my pretenfions: The warm tranf- 
 ports, I fay, which I felt at thofe times, 
 were far inferior to the joy which has glow- 
 ed in my breaft, when I have fuccefsfully 
 exerted my humble talents in defence of 
 thofe caufes and clients committed to my 
 care. To fay truth, I imagined myfelf, at 
 fuch feafons, to be raifed above the higheft 
 dignities, and in the poflfeffion of fomething 
 far more valuable, than either the favor of 
 the great, or the bounty of the rich can ever 
 beftow. 
 
 OF all the arts or fciences, there is not 
 one, which crowns its votaries with a repu- 
 tation
 
 8a OF ORATORY: 
 
 tation in any degree comparable to that of 
 eloquence. It is not only thole of a more 
 exalted rank in the ftate, who are witncffes 
 of the orator's fame ; it is extended to the 
 obfervation even of our very youth of any 
 hopes or merit. Whofe example, for in- 
 fiance, do parents more frequently recom- 
 mend to their fons ? or who are more the 
 gaze and admiration of the people in gene- 
 ral ? whilft every ftranger that arrives, is 
 curious of feeing the man, of *whofe cha- 
 racter he has heard fuch honorable report. 
 I will venture to. affirm, that Marcellus, 
 whom I juft now mentioned, and Vibius 
 (for I choofe to produce my infhnces from 
 modern times, rather than from thofe more 
 remote) are as well known in the mod di- 
 ftant corners of the empire, as they are at 
 Capua or Vercellas; the places, it is faid, of 
 their refpedive nativity : an honor, for 
 which they are by no means indebted to 
 their immenfe riches. On the contrary, 
 their wealth may-juftly, it fliould feem, be 
 afcribed to their eloquence. Every age, 
 indeed, can produce perfons of genius, who, 
 by means of this powerful talent, have raif- 
 cd themfelves to the molt exalted ftation. 
 
 But
 
 A DIALOGUE. 383 
 
 But the inftances I juft now mentioned, are 
 not drawn from diftant times : they fall 
 within the obfervation of our own eyes. 
 Now the more obfcure the original extrac- 
 tion of thofe illuftrious perfons was, the 
 more humble the patrimony to which they 
 were born, fo much flronger proof they 
 afford of the great advantage of the orato- 
 rical arts. Accordingly, without the recom- 
 mendation of family or fortune ; without 
 any thing very extraordinary in their virtues; 
 (and one of them rather contemptible in his 
 addrefs) they have for many years main- 
 tained the higheft credit and authority' 
 among their fellow citizens. Thus, from 
 being chiefs in the forum, where they pre- 
 ferved their diftinguifhed eminence as long 
 as they thought proper ; they have pafTed 
 on to the enjoyment of the fame high rank 
 in VeYpafian's favor, whofe efteem for them 
 feems to be mixed even with a degree of 
 reverence: as indeed they both fupport and 
 conduct the whole weight of his adminiftra- 
 tion. That excellent and venerable prince 
 (whofe fingular character it is, that he can 
 endure to hear truth) well knows, that the 
 reft of his favorit&s are diftinguifhed only as 
 
 they
 
 384 OF ORATORY: 
 
 they are the objects of his munificence : the 
 fupplies of which he can eafily raife, and 
 with the fame facility confer on others. 
 Whereas Crifpus and Marcellus recom- 
 mended themielves to his notice, by advan- 
 tages which no earthly potentate either did, 
 or could, beftow. The truth of it is, in- 
 fcriptions, and ftatues, and enfigns of dig- 
 nity could claim but the lowed rank, amidft 
 their more illuftrious distinctions. Not 
 that they are unpofTeffed of honors of this 
 kind, any more than they are deftitute of 
 wealth or power : advantages, much of- 
 tener affectedly depretiated, than fmcerely 
 defpifed. 
 
 SUCH, my friend, are the ornaments, 
 and fuch the rewards of an early applica- 
 tion to the bufmefs of the forum, and the 
 arts of oratory. But poetry, to which Ma- 
 ternus wimes to devote his days, (for it was 
 that which gave rife to our debate) confers 
 neither dignity on her followers in particular, 
 nor advantage on fociety in general. The 
 whole amount of her pretenfions is nothing 
 more, than the tranfient pleafure of a vain 
 and fruitlefs applaufe. Perhaps what I have 
 already faid, and" am going to add, may 
 
 not
 
 A DIALOGUE. 385 
 
 hot be very agreeable to my friend Mater- 
 nus : however, I will venture to afk him, 
 what avails the eloquence of his Jafon or 
 Agamemnon ? what mortal does it either 
 defend or oblige ? Who is it that courts the 
 patronage, or joins the train, of BafTus, 
 that ingenious (or if you think the term more 
 honorable) that illuftrious poet ? Eminent 
 as he may be, if his friend, his relation, or 
 himfelf were involved in any litigated tranf- 
 actiens, he would be under the rieceffity of 
 having recourfe to SecunduSj or perhaps to 
 you, my friend -f-: but by no means, how- 
 ever, as you are a poet, and in order to fo- 
 licit you to beftow fome verfes upon him : 
 for verfes he can compofe himfelf, fair, it 
 feems, and goodly. Yet after all, when he 
 has at the coft of much time, and many a 
 labored lucubration, fpun out a Ungle can- 
 to j he is obliged to traverfe the whole town 
 in order to collect an audience. Nor can 
 he procure even this compliment, flight as 
 it is, without actually purchafing it : for the 
 hiring a room, erecting a ftage, and difperf- 
 ing his tickets, are articles which muft 
 necefTarily be attended with fome expence. 
 
 I Maternus. 
 
 Cc And
 
 386 OF ORATORY: 
 
 And let us fuppofe his poem is approved : 
 the whole admiration is over in a day or 
 two, like that of a fine flower which dies 
 away without producing any fruit. In a 
 word, it fecures to him neither friend nor 
 patron, nor confers even the moft inconfi- 
 derale favor upon any (ingle creature. The 
 whole amount of his humble gains, is the 
 fleeting pleafure of a clamorous applaufe ! 
 We looked upon it lately, as an uncom- 
 mon inftance of generofity in Vefpafian, that 
 he prefented BaiTus with fifty thoufand fef- 
 terces -(-. Honorable, I grant it is, to pof- 
 fes a genius which merits the imperial boun- 
 ty: but how much more glorious (if a man's 
 circumftances will admit of it) to exhibit in 
 one's own perfon an example of munifi- 
 cence and liberality? Let it be remember- 
 ed likewife, if you would fucceed in your 
 poetical labors, and produce any thing of 
 real worth in that art, you muft retire, as the 
 poets exprefs themfelves, 
 
 Tofilent grottoes and fequefter* d groves. 
 
 That is, you muft renounce the converfa- 
 tion of your friends, and every civil duty 
 
 t About 400!. of our money. 
 
 of
 
 A DIALOGUE. 387 
 
 of life, to be concealed in gloomy and un- 
 profitable folitude. 
 
 IP we confider the votaries of this^ idle 
 art with refpect to fame, that (ingle recom- 
 pence which they pretend to derive, or in- 
 deed to feek, from their ftudies ; we (hall 
 find, they do not by any means enjoy an 
 equal proportion of it with the fons of Ora- 
 tory. For even the beft poets fall within 
 the notice of but a very fmall proportion of 
 mankind; whiift indifferent ones are univer- 
 fally difregarded. Tell me, Maternus, did 
 ever the reputation of the moft approved 
 rehearfal of the poetical kind, reach the 
 cognizance even of half the town ; much 
 lefs extend itfelf to diftant provinces ? Did 
 ever any foreigner upon his arrival here, 
 inquire after Baflus? Or if he did, it was 
 merely as he would after a picture or a fta- 
 tue; juft to look upon him, and pafs on. I 
 would in no fort be underftood as difcou- 
 ! raging the purfuit of poetry, in thofe who 
 have no talents for oratory ; if happily they 
 can by that means amufe their leifure and 
 eftablim a juft character. I look upon eve- 
 ry fpecies of Eloquence as venerable and fa- 
 cred; and give her the preference in whatever 
 C c 2 guife
 
 3S8 Of ORATORY: 
 
 guife me may think, proper to appear, to any 
 other of her fiftcr-arts: not only, Maternus, 
 when fhe exhibts herfelf in your chofenfa^ 
 voritc, the folemn tragedy, or lofty heroic, 
 but even in the pleafant lyric, the wanton 
 elegy, the fevere iambic, the witty epi- 
 gram, or, in one word, in whatever other 
 habit flie is pleafed to afTume. But (I re- 
 peat it again) my complaint is levelled fin- 
 gly againft you j who, defigned as you are by 
 nature for the moft exalted rank of elo- 
 quence, choofe to defert your ftation, and 
 deviate into a lower order. Had you been 
 endued with the athletic vigor of Nicoftra- 
 tus, and born in Greece, where arts of that 
 fort are efteemed not unworthy of the mofl 
 refined characters ; as I could not patient- 
 ly have fuffered that uncommon ftrength 
 of arm, formed for the nobler combat, to 
 have idly fpent itfelf in throwing the javelin, 
 or toiling the coit: fo I now call you forth 
 from rehearfals and theatres, to the forum, 
 and bufinefs, and high debate: efpecially 
 fince you cannot urge the fame plea for en- 
 gaging in poetry which is now generally al- 
 ledged, that it is lefs liable to give offence 
 than oratory. For the ardency of your ge- 
 nius
 
 A DIALOGUE. 389 
 
 niushas already flamed forth, and you have 
 incurred the difpleafure of our fuperiors : 
 not, indeed, for the fake of a friend ; 'That 
 would have been far lefs dangerous j but in 
 fupport, truly, of Cato ! Nor can you offer 
 in excufe, either the duty of your profef- 
 fion, juflice to your client, or the unguard- 
 ed heat of debate. You fixed, it (hould 
 feem, upon this illuftrious and popular fub- 
 ject with deliberate defign, and as a cha- 
 racter that would give weight and autho- 
 rity to your fentiments. You will reply (I 
 am aware) " it was that very circumftance 
 " which gained you fuch univerfal applaufe, 
 <c and rendered you the general topic of dif- 
 " courfe." Talk no more then I befeech 
 you, of fecurity and repofe, whilft you 
 thus induftrionfly raife up to yourfelf fo, 
 potent an adverfary. For my own part, 
 at leaft, I am contented with engaging in 
 queftions of a more modern and private 
 nature ; wherein, if in defence of a friend 
 I am under a necefiity of taking liberties 
 unacceptable, perhaps, to my fuperiors, the 
 honeft freedom of my zeal will, I trull, not 
 only be excufed but applauded. 
 
 APER haying delivered this with his 
 C c 3 ufual;
 
 390 OF ORATORY: 
 
 ufual warmth and earneftnefs ; I am prcpar'd 
 (replied Maternus, in a milder tone and 
 \vith an air of pleafantry) to draw up a 
 charge againft the orators, no lefs copious 
 than my friend's panegyric in their behalf. 
 I fufpected, indeed, he would turn out 
 of his road, in order to attack the poets : 
 tho' I muft own at the fame time, he has 
 fomewhat ioftened the feverity of his fa- 
 tire, by certain conceffions he is pleafed to 
 make in their favor. He is willing, I per- 
 ceive, to allow thofe whofe genius does 
 not point to oratory, to apply themfelves to 
 poetry. Neverthelefs, I 4o not fcruple to 
 acknowledge, that with fome talents, per- 
 haps, for the forum, I chofe to build my 
 reputation on dramatic poetry. The firft 
 attempt I made for this purpofe, was by 
 cxpofingthe dangerous power of Vatinius : a 
 power which even Nerohimfelf difapproved, 
 and which that infamous favorite abufed, 
 to the profanation of the facred Mufes. 
 And I am perfuaded, if I enjoy any fhare 
 of fame, it is to poetry rather than to orato- 
 ry that I am indebted for the acquifition. It 
 is my fixed purpofe, therefore, entirely to 
 Withdraw myfelf from the fatigue of the 
 
 bar.
 
 A DIALOGUE. 391 
 
 bar. I am by no means ambitious of that 
 fplendid concourfe of clients, which Aper 
 has reprefented in fuch pompous colors, 
 any more than I am of thofe fculptured ho- 
 nors which he mentioned; tho' I muft con- 
 fefs, they have made their way into my fa- 
 mily, notwithstanding my inclinations to 
 the contrary. Innocence is, now at leaft, 
 a furer guard than eloquence ; and I am 
 in no apprehenfion I fhall ever have occa- 
 fion to open my lips in the fenate, unlefs, 
 perhaps, in defence of a friend. 
 
 WOODS and groves and folitude, the 
 objects of Aper's invective, afford me, I 
 will own to him, the moft exquifite fatis- 
 faction. Accordingly, I efteem it one of 
 the great privileges of poetry, that it is not 
 carried on in the noife and tumult of the 
 world, amidft the painful importunity of 
 anxious fuitors, and the affecting tears of 
 diftreffed criminals. On the contrary, a 
 mind enamored of the Mufes, retires into 
 fcenes of innocence and repofe, and enjoys 
 the facred haunts of filence and contempla- 
 tion. Here genuine Eloquence received her 
 birth, and here fhe fixed her facred and fe- 
 queflered manfion. 'Twas kere> in de- 
 C c 4 cent
 
 392 OF ORATORY: 
 
 cent and becoming garb, {he recommended 
 herfelf to the early notice of mortals, infpir- 
 ing the breafts of the blamelefs and the good : 
 bere&tft. the voice divine of oracles was heard. 
 T&utjbe of modern growth, offspring of -lu- 
 cre and contention, was born in evil days, 
 and employed (as Aper very juftly expref- 
 fed it) inftead of a weapon : whilft happier 
 times, or, in the language of the Mufes, the 
 golden age, free alike from orators and from 
 crimes, abounded with infpired poets, who 
 exerted their noble talents, not in defending 
 the guilty, but in celebrating the good. 
 Accordingly no character was ever more 
 eminently diftinguifhed, or more auguftly 
 honored : firft by the gods themfelves, to 
 whom the poets were fuppofed to ferve as 
 minifters at their feafts, and mefTengers of 
 their high behefts ; and afterwards by that 
 facred offspring of the gods, the firft vene- 
 rable race of legiflators. In that glorious 
 lift we read the names, not of orators indeed, 
 but of Orpheus, and Linus, or, if we are 
 inclined to trace the jHuftripus roll ftill high- 
 er, even of Apollo himfelf. 
 
 BUT thefe, perhaps, will be treated by 
 Aper as heroes of Romance. He cannot 
 
 however
 
 A DIALOGUE. 39 j 
 
 however deny, that Homer has received as 
 fignal honors from pofterity, as Demo- 
 fthenes ; or that the fame of Sophocles or 
 Euripides is as extenfive, as that of Lyfias 
 or Hyperides ; that Cicero's merit is lefs 
 universally confeffed than Virgil's j or that 
 pot one of the coinpofitions of Afmius or 
 Meflalla is in fo much requeft, as the Medea 
 of Ovid, or the Thyeftes of Varius. I will 
 advance even farther, and venture to com- 
 pare the unenvied fortune and happy felf- 
 converfe of the poet, with the anxious and 
 bufy life of the orator j notwithstanding 
 the hazardous contentions of the latter, may 
 poffibly raife him even to the confular dig- 
 nity. Far more defirable, in my eftima- 
 tion, was the calm retreat of Virgil : where 
 yet he lived not unhonored by his prince, 
 nor unregarded by the world. If the truth 
 pf either of thefe aflertions fhould be que- 
 ftioned, the letters of Auguftus will witnefs 
 the former ; as the latter is evident from 
 the conducl: of the whole Roman people, 
 who when fome verfes of that divine poet 
 were repeated in the theatre, where he hap- 
 pened to be prefent, rofe up to a man, and 
 jaluted him with the fame refpect they 
 
 would
 
 394 OF ORATORY: 
 
 would have paid to Auguftus himfelf. But 
 to mention our own times : I would afk 
 whether Secundus Pomponius is any thing 
 inferior, either in dignity of life, or folidity 
 of reputation, to Aper Domitius ? As to 
 Crifpus or Marcellus, to whom Aper refers 
 me for an animating example, what is there 
 in their prefent exalted fortunes really defera- 
 ble? Is it that they pafs their whole lives either 
 in being alarmed forthemfelves, or in ftrik- 
 ing terror into others ? Is it that they are 
 daily under a neceffity of courting the very 
 men they hate j that holding their dignities 
 by unmanly adulation, their matters never 
 think them fufficiently flaves, nor the peo- 
 ple fufficiently free ? And, after all, what 
 is this their fo much envied power ? No- 
 thing more, in truth, than what many a 
 paltry freed-man has frequently enjoyed. 
 But " ME let the lovely Mufes lead (as 
 " Virgil fmgs) to filent groves and heaven- 
 <e ly haunted ftreams, remote from bufi- 
 tc nefs and from care; and frill fuperior to 
 " the painful neceffity of ading in wretch- 
 " ed oppofition to my better heart. Nor 
 " let me more, with anxious fteps and 
 * c dangerous, purfue pale fame amidft the 
 
 <{ noify
 
 A DIALOGUE. 395 
 
 c< noify forum ! May never clamorous fuit- 
 <c ors, nor panting freed-men with offici- 
 c< ous hafte, awake my peaceful (lumbers! 
 <c Uncertain of futurity, and equally un- 
 *' concerned, ne'er may I bribe the favor 
 cf of the great, by rich bequefts to avarice 
 <c infatiate; nor, accumulation vain ! amafs 
 " more wealth than I may transfer as in- 
 * f clination prompts, whenever fhall arrive 
 " my life's laft fatal period : And then, 
 " not in horrid guife of mournful pomp, 
 " but crowned with chaplets gay, may I be 
 '* entombed j nor let a friend with unavail- 
 " ing zeal, folicit the ufelefs tribute of poft- 
 " humous memorials !" 
 
 MATERNUS had fcarce finished thefe 
 words, which he uttered with great emo- 
 tion and with an air of infpiration, when 
 MefTalla entered the room : who, obferving 
 much attention in our countenances, and 
 imagining the converfation turned upon 
 fomething of more than ordinary import ; 
 Perhaps, faid he, you are engaged in a con- 
 Jitltation, and, I doubt, lam guilty of an un- 
 feafonable interruption. By no means, an- 
 fwered Secundus : on the contrary, I wifh 
 you had given us your company foqner j for, 
 
 I am
 
 396 OF ORATORY: 
 
 I am perfuaded, you would have been ex- 
 tremely entertained. Our friend Aperhas, 
 with great eloquence, been exhorting Ma- 
 ternus, to turn the whole ftrength of his 
 genius and his ftudies to the bufinefs of the 
 forum : while Maternus, on the other hand, 
 agreeably to the character of one who was 
 pleading the caufe of the Mufes, has de- 
 fended his favorite art with a boldnefs and 
 elevation of flyle more fuitable to a poet 
 than an orator. 
 
 IT would have afforded me infinite plea- 
 fure, replied Meflala, to have been prefent 
 at a debate of this kind. And 1 cannot 
 but exprefs my fatis faction, in finding the 
 mod eminent orators of our times, not con- 
 fining their geniufes to points relating to 
 their profeffion j but canvaffing fuch other 
 topics in their eonverfition, as give a very 
 advantageous exercife to their faculties, at 
 the fame time that it furnifhes an enter- 
 tainment of the moft inftructive kind, not 
 only to themfelves, but to thofe who have 
 the privilege of being joined in their party. 
 And believe me, Secundus, the world receiv- 
 ed with much approbation your hiftoryof 
 J. Aiiaticus, as an earnefl that you intend to
 
 A DIALOGUE. 397 
 
 publifh more pieces of the fame nature. On 
 the other fide (continued he, with an air 
 of irony) it is obferved with equal fatisfac- 
 tion, that Aper has not yet bidden adieu to 
 the queftions of the fchools, but employs 
 his leifure rather after the example of the 
 modern rhetoricians, than of the antient 
 orators. 
 
 I PERCEIVE, returned Aper, that you 
 continue to treat the moderns with your 
 ufual derifion and contempt; while the an- 
 tients alone are in full poflerlion of your 
 efteem* It is a maxim, indeed, I have fre*- 
 quently heard you advance (and, allow me 
 to fay, with much injuftice to yourfelf and 
 to your brother) that there is no. fuch thing 
 in the prefent age as an orator. This you 
 are the lefs fcrupulous to maintain, as you 
 imagine it cannot be imputed to a fpirit of 
 envy; fince you are willing at the fame 
 time to exclude yourfelf from a character 
 which every body elfe is inclined to give 
 you. 
 
 I HAVE hitherto, replied MefTalla, found 
 no reaiou to change my opinion : and I am 
 perfuaded, that even you yourfelf, Aper, 
 (whatever you may fornetimes affect to the 
 
 contrary)
 
 398 OF ORATORY: 
 
 contrary) as well as my other two friends 
 here, join with me in the fame fentiments. 
 I mould, indeed, be glad, if any of you 
 would difcufs this matter, and account for 
 fo remarkable a difparity ; which I have of- 
 ten endeavored in my own thoughts. And 
 what to fome appears a fatisfactory folution, 
 to me, I confefs, heightens the difficulty ; 
 for I find the very fame difference prevails 
 among the Grecian orators ; and that the 
 prieft Nicetes, together with others of the 
 EphefianandMyteleneanfchooIs, who hum- 
 bly content themfelves with raifing the ac- 
 clamations of their taftelefs auditors, devi- 
 ate much farther from ^Efchines or Demoft- 
 henes, than you, my friends, from Tully or 
 Afinius. 
 
 THE queftion you have ftarted, faid Se- 
 cundus, is a very important one, and well 
 worthy of confideration. But who fo ca- 
 pable of doing juftice to it as yourfelf ? who, 
 befides the advantages of a fine genius and 
 great literature, have given, it feems, par- 
 ticular attention to this enquiry. I am very 
 willing, anfwered MefTalla, to lay before 
 you my thoughts upon the fubjecl:, provid- 
 ed you will affift me with yours as I go 
 
 along.
 
 A DIALOGUE. 399 
 
 along. I will engage for two of us, replied 
 Maternus: Secundus and myfelf will fpeak 
 to fuch points as you {hall, I do not fay omit, 
 but, think proper to leave to us. As for Aper, 
 you juft now informed us, it is ufual with 
 him to diflent from you in this article: and, 
 indeed, I fee he is already preparing to op- 
 pofe us, and will not look with indifference 
 upon this our aflbciation in fupport of the 
 antients. 
 
 UNDOUBTEDLY, returned Aper, I (hall 
 not tamely fuffer the moderns to be con- 
 demned, unheard and undefended. But 
 firft let me afk, whom it is you call anti- 
 ents ? What age of orators do you diftin- 
 guifh by that delignation ? The word al- 
 ways fuggeils to me a Neftor, or an Ulyf- 
 fes j men who lived above a thoufand years 
 lince : whereas you feem to apply it to De- 
 mofthenes and Hyperides, who, it is agreed, 
 florimed fo late as the times of Philip and 
 Alexander, and, indeed, furvived them. It 
 appears from hence, that there is not much 
 above four hundred years diftance between 
 our age and that of Demofthenes : a por- 
 tion of time, which, confidered with re- 
 fpect to human duration, appears, I ac- 
 
 knowlege,
 
 346 OF ORATORY: 
 
 knowlege, extremely long ; but, if compa~ 
 red with that immenfe aera which the phi- 
 lofophers talk of, is exceedingly contracted; 
 and feems alraoit but of yefterday. For if 
 -it be true, what Cicero obferves in histrea- 
 tife infcribed to Hortenfius, that the great 
 and genuine year is that period in which 
 the heavenly bodies return to the fame 
 pofition, wherein they were placed when 
 they firft began their refpeclive orbits ; and 
 this revolution contains 12,954 of our folar 
 years; then Demofthenes, this antient De- 
 mofthenes of yours, lived in the fame year, 
 or rather I might fay, ' in the fame month 
 with ourfelves. But to mention the Roman 
 orators: I prefume, you will fcarcely pre- 
 fer Menenias Agrippa (who may with fome 
 propriety, indeed, be called an antient) to 
 the men of eloquence among the moderns, 
 It is Cicero then, I fuppofe, together with 
 Ccelius, Csfar, and Calvus, Brutus, Afi- 
 frius, and MefTalla, to whom you give this 
 honorable precedency: yet I am at a lofs to 
 affign a reafon, why thefe mould be deem- 
 ed antients rather than moderns. To in- 
 ftance in Cicero: he was killed, as h\s 
 freed-rnan Tiro informs us, on the 26th of 
 
 December,
 
 A DIALOGUE. 401 
 
 December, in the confulfhip of Hirtius and 
 Panfa, in which year Auguftus and Pedius 
 fucceeded them in that dignity. Now, if 
 we take fifty-fix years for the reign of Au- 
 guftus, and add twenty-three for that of 
 Tiberius, about four for that of .Caius, 
 fourteen a-piece for Claudius and Nero, 
 one for Galba, Otho, and Vitellius, toge- 
 ther with the fix that our prefent excellent * 
 prince has enjoyed the empire, we (hall 
 have about one hundred and twenty years 
 from the death of Cicero to thefe times: a 
 period, to which it is not impofTible that a 
 man's life may extend. I remember, when 
 I was in Britain, to have met with an old 
 foldier, who allured me, he had ferved in 
 the army which oppofed Caefar's defcent 
 upon that ifland. Ifwefuppofe thisperfon > 
 by being taken prifoner, or by any other 
 means, to have been brought to Rome, he 
 might have heard Ca?far and Cicero, and 
 
 * From this paflage Fabricius aflerts-, that this dia- 
 logue was written in the 6th year of Vefpafian's reign : 
 but he evidentry miftakes the time in which the fcene 
 of it is laid, for that in which it was compofed. It is 
 upon arguments not better founded, that the cri- 
 tics have given Tacitus and Quintilian the honor of 
 this elegant performance. Vide Fabric, Bib. Lai. 
 V. I. 55=9. 
 
 D d likewife
 
 402 OF ORATORY: 
 
 likewife any of our contemporaries. I ap- 
 peal to yourfelves, whether at the laft pub- 
 lic donative, there were not feveral of the 
 populace who acknowledged they had re- 
 ceived the fame bounty, more than once, 
 from the hands of Auguftus ? It is evident, 
 therefore, that thefe people might have 
 been prefent at the pleadings both of Corvi- 
 nus and Afinius ; for Corvinus was alive in 
 the middle of the reign of Auguftus, and 
 Afinius towards the latter end. Surely, 
 then, you will not fplit a century, and call 
 one orator an antient, and another a mo- 
 dern, when the very fame perfon might be 
 an auditor of both j and thus, as it were> 
 render them contemporaries. 
 
 THE conclufion I mean to draw from 
 this obfervation is, that whatever advantages 
 thefe orators might derive to their charac- 
 ters, from the period of time in which they 
 florimed ; the fame will extend to us : and, 
 indeed, with much more reafon than to S. 
 Galba, or to C. Carbonius. It cannot be 
 denied, that the compofitions of thefe laft 
 are very inelegant and unpolifhed perform- 
 ances ; as I could wifh, that not only your 
 admired Calvus and Ccelitfs, but, I will 
 venture to add too, even Cicero himfelf 
 
 (for
 
 "A DIALOGUE. 403 
 
 (for I fhall deliver my fentiments with great 
 freedom) had not confidered them as the 
 proper models of their imitation. Suffer 
 me to premife, however, as I go along, 
 that eloquence changes its qualities as it 
 runs through different ages. Thus, as Grac- 
 chus, for inftance, is much more copious 
 and florid than old Cato ; fo Craffus rifes in- 
 to a far higher ftrain of politenefs and re- 
 finement than Gracchus. Thus likewife, 
 as the fpeeches of Tully are more regular, 
 and marked with fuperior elegance and fub- 
 limity than thofe of the two orators laft 
 mentioned ; fo Corvinus is confiderably 
 more fmooth and harmonious in his peri- 
 ods, as well as more correct in his language, 
 than Tully. I am not confidering, which, 
 of them is moft eloquent : All I endeavor 
 to prove at prefent is, that oratory does not 
 manifeft itfelf in one unvaried form, but is 
 exhibited by the antients under a variety of 
 different appearances. However, it is by 
 no means a juft way of reafoning, to in- 
 fer that one thing muft neceffarily be worfe 
 than another, merely becaufe it is not the 
 fame. Yet fuch is the unaccountable oer- 
 verfity of human nature, that whatever has 
 antiquity to boaft, is fure to be admired ; 
 Dd 2 as
 
 404 OF ORATORY: 
 
 as every thing novel is certainly difapproved. 
 There are critics, I doubt not, to be found, 
 who prefer even Appius Coecus to Cato ; as 
 it is well known that Cicero had his cenfu- 
 rers, who objected that his ftyle was fwel- 
 ling and redundant, and by no means agree- 
 able to the elegant concifenefs of Attic elo- 
 quence. You have certainly read the let- 
 ters of Calvus and Brutus to Cicero. It 
 appears by thofe epiftolary collections, that 
 Cicero confidered Calvus as a dry, unani- 
 mated orator, at the fame time that he 
 thought the ftyle of Brutus negligent and 
 unconnected. Thefe, in their turn, had 
 their objections, it feems, to Cicero : Calvus 
 condemned his oratorical compofitions, for 
 being weak and enervated ; as Brutus (to 
 ufe his own exprefTion) efteemed them^- 
 ble and disjointed* If I were to give my opi- 
 nion, I mould fay, that they each fpoke truth 
 of one another. But I mall examine thefe 
 orators feparately hereafter : my prefent de- 
 fign is only to confider them in a general 
 view. 
 
 THE admirers of antiquity are agreed, I 
 think, in extending the sera of the antients 
 as far as Caffius Severus ; whom they afTert 
 to have been the firft that flruck out from 
 
 the
 
 A DIALOGUE. 405 
 
 the plain and fimple manner, which till 
 then prevailed. Now I affirm that he did 
 fo, not from any deficiency in point of geni- 
 us or learning, but from his iuperior judg- 
 ment and good fenfe. He faw it was ne- 
 ceflary to accommodate oratory^ as I ob- 
 ferved before, to the different times and 
 tafte of the audience. Our anceftors, in- 
 deed, might be contented (and it was a 
 mark of their ignorance and want of polite- 
 nefsthat they were fo) with the immoderate 
 and tedious length of fpeeches, which was 
 in vogue in thofc ages j as, in truth, to be 
 able to harangue for a whole day together 
 was itfelf looked upon, at that illiterate pe- 
 riod, as a talent worthy of the highefl admi- 
 ration. The immeafuiable introduction, the 
 circumstantial detail, the endlefs divifion 
 and fubdivifion, the formal argument drawn 
 out into a dull variety of logical deductions, 
 together with a thoufand other impernnen- 
 cies of the fame taftelefs ftamp, which you 
 may find laid down among the precepts of 
 thofe drieft of all writers, Hermagoras and 
 Apollodorus, were then held in fupreme 
 honor. And, to complete all, if the orator 
 had juft dipped into philofophy, and could 
 fprinkle his harangue with fome of the moft 
 D d 3 trite
 
 4o6 OF ORATORY: 
 
 trite maxims of that fcience, they thurj- 
 dered out his applaufes to the fkies. For 
 thefe were new and uncommon topics to 
 them ; as indeed very few of the orators 
 themfelves had the leaft acquaintance with 
 the writings either of the philofophers or 
 the rhetoricians. But in our more enlight- 
 ened age, where even the loweft part of 
 an audience have at leaft fome gene- 
 ral notion of literature, Eloquence is con- 
 ilrained to find out new and more florid 
 paths. She is obliged to avoid every thing that 
 may fatigue or offend the ears of her audi- 
 ence ; efpecially as {he muft now appear be- 
 fore judges, who decide, not by law, but by 
 authority; wh prefcribe what limits they 
 think proper to the orators fpeech ; nor 
 calmly wait till he is pleafed to come to the 
 point, but call upon him to return, and 
 openly teftify their impatience whenever he 
 feems difpofed to wander from the queftion. 
 Who, I befeech you, would in our days 
 endure an orator, who mould open his ha- 
 rangue with a tedious apology for the weak- 
 nefs of his conftitution ? Yet almoft every 
 oration of Corvinus fets out in that manner. 
 Would any man now have patience to hear 
 out the five long books againft Verres ? or 
 
 thofe
 
 A DIALOGUE. 407 
 
 thofe endlefs volumes of pleading in favor 
 of Tully, or Coecina ? The vivacity of our 
 modern judges even prevents the fpeaker j 
 and they are apt to conceive fome fort of pre- 
 judice againft all he utters, unlefs he has 
 the addrefs to bribe their attention by the 
 ftrength and fpirit of his arguments, the 
 livelinefs of his fentiments, or the elegance 
 and brilliancy of his defcriptions. The very 
 populace have fome notion of the beauty of 
 language, and would no more relifh the 
 uncouthnefs of antiquity in a modern ora- 
 tor, than they would the gefture of old 
 Rofcius or Ambivius in a modern actor. 
 Our young ftudents too, who are forming 
 themfelves to eloquence, and for that pur- 
 pofe attend the courts of judicature, expect 
 not merely to bear, but to carry home fome- 
 thing worthy of remembrance : and it is 
 ufual with them, not only tocanvafs among 
 themfelves, but to tranfmit to their refpec- 
 tive provinces, whatever ingenious thought 
 or poetical ornament the orator has happily 
 employed. For even the embellishments 
 of poetry are now required j and thofe too, 
 not copied from the heavy and antiquated 
 manner of Attius or Pacuvius, but formed 
 in the lively and elegant fpirit of Horace, 
 D d 4 Virgil,
 
 408 OF ORATORY. 
 
 Virgil, and Lucan. Agreeably, therefore, 
 to the fuperior tafte and judgment of the 
 prefent age, our orators appear with a more 
 poliihed and graceful afpect. And moft 
 certainly it cannot be thought that their 
 fpeeches are the lefs efficacious, becaufe 
 they foothe the ears of the audience with 
 the pleafing modulation of harmonious pe- 
 riods. Has Eloquence loft her power, be- 
 caufe fhe has improved her charms ? Are 
 our temples lefs durable than thofe of old, 
 becaufe they are not formed of rude mate- 
 rials, but fliine out in all the polifh and 
 fplendor of the moft coftly ornaments ? 
 
 To confefs the plain truth, the effecl 
 which many of the antients have upon me, 
 is to difpofe me either to laugh or fleep. 
 Not to mention the more ordinary race of 
 orators, fuch as Canutius, Arrius, orFan- 
 nius, with fome others of the fame dry and 
 uri affecting caft; even Calvus himfclflcarce 
 pleafes me in more than one or two fhort 
 orations : tho' he has left behind him, if 
 I miftake not, no lefs than one and twenty 
 volumes. And the world in general feems 
 to join with me in the fame opinion of them : 
 for how few are the readers of his invec- 
 tives againft Ficinius, or Drufus ? Whereas 
 
 tho r
 
 A DIALOGUE. 409 
 
 thofe againft Vatinius are in every body's 
 hands , particularly the fecond, which is 
 indeed, both in fentiment and language, a 
 well- written piece. It is evident therefore, 
 that he had an idea of juft compofition, and 
 rather wanted genius than inclination, to 
 reach a more graceful and elevated man- 
 ner. As to the orations of Coelius, though 
 they are by no means valuable upon jhe 
 whole, yet they have their merit, fo far 
 as they approach to the exalted elegance of 
 the prefent times. Whenever, indeed, his 
 compofition is carelefs and unconnected, his 
 exprefTion low, and his fentiments grofs ; it 
 is then he is truly an antient : and I will ven- 
 ture to affirm there is no one fo fond of 
 antiquity, as to admire him in that part of 
 his character. We may allow Casfar, on 
 account of the great affairs in which he was 
 engaged , as we may Brutus, in confidera- 
 tion of his philofophy, to be lefs eloquent 
 than might otherwife be expected of fuch 
 fuperior geniufes. The truth is, even their 
 warmeft admirers acknowledge, that as 
 orators they by no means (hine with the 
 fame luftre, which diftinguifhed every 
 other part of their reputation. Caefar's 
 fpeech in favor of Decius, and that of Bru- 
 tus
 
 410 OF ORATORY: 
 
 tus in behalf of king Dejotarus, with fome 
 others of the fame coldnefs and languor, 
 have fcarcely, I imagine, met with any 
 readers j unlefs, perhaps, among fuch who 
 can relifti their verfes. For verfes, we 
 know, they writ, (and published too) I will 
 not fay with more fpirit, but undoubtedly 
 with more fuccefs, than Cicero, becaufe 
 they had the good fortune to fall into much 
 fewer hands. Afinius, one would guefs 
 by his air and manner, to have been con- 
 temporary with Menenius, and Appius j 
 tho' in fact he lived much nearer to our 
 times. It is vifible he was a clofe imitator 
 of Attius and Pacuvius, not only in his 
 tragedies, but alfo in his orations ; fo re- 
 markably dry and unpolilhed are all his 
 compofitions ! But the beauty of eloquence, 
 like that of the human form, confifts in 
 the fmoothnefs, ftrength, and color of its 
 feveral parts. Corvinus I am inclined to 
 fpare ; tho' it was his own fault that he did 
 not equal the elegant refinements of modern 
 compofitions ; as it muft be acknowledged 
 his genius was abundantly fufficient for that 
 purpofe. 
 
 THE next I (hall take notice of, is Ci- 
 cero : who had the fame conteft with thofc 
 
 of
 
 A DIALOGUE, 411 
 
 of his own times, as mine, my friends, 
 with you. They, it feems, were favorers 
 of the antients ; whilft He preferred the 
 eloquence of his contemporaries : and, in 
 truth, he excels the orators of his own age 
 in nothing more remarkably, than in the 
 folidity of his judgment. He was the firft 
 who fet a polifh upon oratory j who feemed 
 to have any notion of delicacy of expref- 
 fion, and the art of compofition. Accord- 
 ingly he attempted a more florid ftyle : as 
 he now and then breaks out into fome live- 
 ly flames of wit -, particularly in his later 
 performances, when much practice and ex- 
 perience (thofe beft and fureft guides) had 
 taught him a more improved manner. But 
 his earlier compofitions are not without the 
 blemimes of antiquity. He is tedious in 
 his exordiums, too circumftantial in his 
 narrations, and carelefs in retrenching lux- 
 uriances. He feems not eafily affected, and 
 is but rarely fired j as his periods are feldom 
 either properly rounded, or happily point- 
 ed : he has nothing, in fine, you would 
 wifh to make your own. His fpeeches, 
 like a rude edifice, have ftrength, indeed, 
 and permanency j but are deftitute of that 
 elegance and fplendor which are neceiTary 
 
 to
 
 OF ORATORY: 
 
 to render them perfectly agreeable. The 
 orator, however, in his competitions, as the 
 man of wealth in his buildings, mould con- 
 fider ornament as well as ufe : his ftrudture 
 mould be, not only fubftantial, but ftrik- 
 ing j and his furniture not merely conveni- 
 ent, but rich, and fuch as will bear a clofe 
 and frequent infpedtion ; whilft every thing 
 that has a mean and aukward appearance 
 ought to be totally banimed. Let our ora- 
 tor then reject every exprefiion that is ob- 
 folete, and grown rufty, as it were, by 
 age j let him be careful not to weaken the 
 force of his fentiments by a heavy and in- 
 artificial combination of words, like our 
 dull compilers of annals ; let him avoid all 
 low and infipid raillery : in a word let him 
 vary the ftructure of his periods, nor end 
 every fentence with the fame uniform clofe. 
 1 WILL not expofe the rneanneCs of Ci- 
 cero's conceits, nor his affectation of con- 
 cluding almoft every other period with, as 
 stjbouldfeem, iniiead of pointing them with 
 fome lively and fpirited turn. I mention 
 even thefe with reluctance, and pafs over 
 many others of the fame injudicious caft. It 
 is, however, little affectations of this kind, 
 lhat they who are pleafed to ftyle thcm- 
 
 ielves
 
 A DIALOGUE. 413 
 
 fclves antient orators, feem alone to admire 
 and imitate in him. I fhall content myfelf 
 with defcribing their characters, without 
 mentioning their names : but you are fenfi- 
 ble, there are certain pretenders totafte who 
 prefer Lucilius to Horace, and Lucretius to 
 Virgil j who hold the eloquence of your 
 favorite Baflus or Nonianus in the utmoft 
 contempt when compared with that of 
 Sifenna or Varro : in a word, who defpife 
 the productions of our modern rhetoricians, 
 yet are in raptures with thofe of Calvus. 
 Thefe curious orators prate in the courts of 
 judicature after the manner of the antients^ 
 (as they call it) till they are deferted by the 
 whole audience, and are fcarce fupportable 
 even to their very clients. The truth of it 
 is, that foundnefs of eloquence which they 
 fo much boaft, is but an evidence of the na- 
 tural weaknefs of their genius, as it is the 
 effect alone of tame and cautious art. No 
 phyfician would pronounce a man to enjoy 
 a proper conftitution, whofe health proceed- 
 ed entirely from a ftudicd and abftemious 
 regimen. To be only not indifpofed, is 
 but afmall acquifition j it is fpirits, vivaci- 
 ty, and vigor that I require : whatever 
 
 comes
 
 414 OF ORATORY: 
 
 comes (hort of thiSj is but one remove from 
 imbecility. 
 
 BE it then (as with great eafe it may, 
 and in fact is) the glorious diftinction of you, 
 my illuftrious friends, to ennoble our age 
 with the moft refined eloquence. It is with 
 infinite fatisfaction, Meffalla, I obferve, that 
 you lingle out the moft florid among the 
 antients for your model. And you, my 
 other two ingenious friends *, fo happily 
 unite ftrength of fentiment with beauty of 
 expreffion ; fuch a pregnancy, of imagina- 
 tion, fuch a fymmetry of ordonnance diftin- 
 guifh your fpeeches ; fo copious or fo con- 
 cife is your elocution, as different occafions 
 require ; fuch an inimitable gracefulnefs of 
 ftyle, and fuch an eafy flow of wit adorn 
 and dignify your competitions; in a word, 
 fo abfolutely you command the paffions of 
 your audience, and fo happily temper your 
 own, that, however the envy and maligni- 
 ty of the prefent age may withold that ap- 
 plaufe which is fo juftly your due ; pofte- 
 rity, you may rely upon it, will fpeak of 
 you in the advantageous terms which you 
 well deferve. 
 
 * Maternus and Secundus. 
 
 WHEN
 
 A DIALOGUE. 415 
 
 WHEN Aper had thus finifhed : It muft 
 be owned, faid Maternus, our friend has 
 fpokcn with much force and fpirit. What 
 a torrent of learning and eloquence has he 
 poured forth in defence of the moderns ! and 
 how completely vanquished the antients 
 with thofe very weapons, which he borrow- 
 ed from them ! However, (continued he, 
 applying himfelf to Meffalla) you muft 
 not recede from your engagement. Not 
 that we expecl you fhould enter into a de- 
 fence of the antients, or fuppofe (however 
 Aper is pleafed to compliment) that any of 
 us can ftand in competition with them. 
 Aper himfelf does not fincerely think fo, I 
 dare fay -, but takes the oppofite fide in the 
 debate, merely in imitation of the celebrat- 
 ed manner of antiquity. We do not defire 
 you, therefore, to entertain us with a pane- 
 gyric upon the antients : their well-efta- 
 blimed reputation places them far above the 
 want of our encomiums. But what we 
 requeft of you is, to account for our having 
 fo widely departed from that noble fpecies 
 of eloquence which they difplayed : efpe- 
 cially fince we are not, according to Apcr's 
 calculation, more than a hundred and twen- 
 ty years diftant from Cicero. 
 
 I SHALL
 
 4 i6 OF ORATORY: 
 
 I SHALL endeavor, returned Meflalla, 
 to purfue the plan you have laid down to 
 me. I (hall not enter into the queftion 
 with Aper, (tho* indeed he is the firft that 
 ever made it one) whether thofe who flo- 
 riihed above a century before us, can pro- 
 perly be ftyled amients. I am not difpofed 
 to contend about words : let them be called 
 antients, or anceftors, or whatever other 
 name he pleafes, fo it be allowed that their 
 oratory was fuperior to ours. I admit too, 
 what he juft now advanced, that there are 
 various kinds of eloquence difcernible in 
 the fame period ; much more in different 
 ages. But as among the Attic orators, De- 
 mofthenes is placed in the firft rank, then 
 .ffifchines, Hyperides next, and after him 
 Lyfias and Lycurgus ; an aera, which on 
 all hands is agreed to have been the prime 
 feafon of oratory : fo amongft us, Cicero 
 is by univerfal confent preferred to all his 
 contemporaries ; as after him, Calvus, Afi- 
 nius, Caefar, Ccelius, and Brutus, are juft- 
 ly acknowledged to have excelled all our 
 preceding or fubfequent orators. Nor is it 
 of any importance to the prefent argument, 
 that they differ in manner, fmce they agree 
 in kind. The compolitions of Calvus, it is 
 
 confefled,
 
 A DIALOGUE. 417 
 
 confeffed, are diftinguifhed by their re- 
 markable concifenefs j as thofe of Afinius 
 are by the harmonious flow of his language. 
 Brilliancy of fentiment is Casfar's character- 
 iftic j as poignancy of wit is that of Cos* 
 lius. Solidity recommends the fpeeches of 
 Brutus ; while copioufnefs, flrengtb, and 
 vehemence are the predominant qualities 
 in Cicero. Each of them, however, dif- 
 plays an equal ioundnefs of eloquence : and 
 one may eafily difcover a general refem- 
 blance and kindred likenefs run thro' their 
 feveral works, tho' diverfified, indeed, ac- 
 cording to their refpective geniufes. That 
 they mutually detracted from each other, 
 (as it muft be owned there are fome remain- 
 ing traces of malice in their letters) is not 
 to be imputed to them as orators, but as 
 men. Calvos, Afinius, and even Cicero 
 himfelf, were liable, no doubt, to be infected 
 with jealoufy, as well as with other human 
 frailties and imperfections. Brutus, how- 
 ever, I will fingly except from all impu- 
 tations of malignity, being well perfuaded he 
 fpoke the fincere and impartial femiments 
 of his heart : for can it be fuppofed that HE 
 /hould envy Cicero, who does not feem to 
 have envied even Caefar himfelf? As to Gal- 
 E e ba,
 
 418 OF ORATORY: 
 
 ba, Laelius, and fame others of the aritients, 
 whom Aperhas thought proper to condemn y 
 I am willing to admit that they have fome 
 defeats, which muft be afcribed to a grow- 
 ing and yet immature eloquence. 
 
 AFTER all, if we muft relinqmfli the 
 nobler kind of oratory, and adopt fome 
 lower fpecies, I mould certainly prefer the 
 impetuofity of Gracchus, or the incorredtnefs 
 of Craffus, to the ftudied foppery of Maece- 
 nas, or the childifh jingle of Gallio : fo 
 mu-ch rather would I fee eloquence cloath- 
 ed in the moft rude and negligent garb, 
 than decked out with the falfe colors of af- 
 fecled ornament! There isfornethingin our 
 prefent manner of elocution, which is fo 
 far from being oratorical, that it is not even 
 manly: and one would imagine our modern 
 pleaders, by the levity of their wit, the af- 
 feded fmoothnefs of their periods, and licen- 
 tioufnefs of their ftylc, had a view to the 
 itage in all their compositions. According- 
 ly, fo-me of them are not afhamed to boaft 
 (which one can fcarce even mention with- 
 out a blum) that their fpeeches are adapted 
 to the fcft modulation of ftage-mufic. It 
 is this depravity of tafte which has given 
 rile to the very indecent and prepofterous,
 
 A DIALOGUE. 419 
 
 tho' very frequent, expreffion, that fuch an 
 orator (peaks fmcothly y and fuch a dancer 
 moves eloquently. I am willing to admitthere- 
 fore, that Caffius Severus (the fingle modern 
 whom Aper has thought proper to name) 
 when compared to thefe his degenerate 
 fuccefTors, may juftly be deemed an orator j 
 tho', it is certain j in the greater part of his 
 compofitions there appears far more ftrength 
 than fpirit. He was the firft who neglect- 
 ed chaftity of ftyle, and propriety of me- 
 thod. Inexpert in the ufe of thofe very 
 weapons with which he engages, he ever 
 lays himfelf open to a thruft, by always en- 
 deavoring to attack; and one may much 
 more properly fay of him, that he pufhes at 
 random, than that he comports himfelf ac- 
 cording to the juft rules of regular combat. 
 Neverthelefs, he is greatly fuperior, as I 
 obierved before, in the variety of his learn- 
 ing, the agreeablenefs of his wit, and the 
 jftrength of his genius to thofe who fucceed- 
 ed him : not one of whom, however, 
 has Aper ventured to bring into the field. I 
 imagined, that after having depofed Afini- 
 us, and Cceiius, and Calvns, he would have 
 fubiiituted another fet of orators in their 
 place, and that he had numbers to produce 
 E e 2 m
 
 OF ORATORY: 
 
 in oppofition to Cicero, to Caefar, and the 
 reft whom he rejected j or at leaft, one ri- 
 val to each of them. On the contrary, he 
 has diftinctly and feparately cenfured all the 
 antients, whilft he has ventured to com- 
 mend the moderns in general only. He 
 thought, perhaps, if he fingled out fome, 
 he mould draw upon himfelf the refent- 
 ment of all the reft : for every declaimer 
 among them modeftly ranks himfelf, in 
 his own fond opinion, before Cicero, tho' 
 indeed after Gabinianus. But what Aper 
 was not hardy enough to undertake, 1 will 
 be bold to execute for him ; and draw out 
 his oratorical heroes in full view, that it 
 may appear by what degrees the fpirit and 
 vigor of antient eloquence was impaired 
 and broken. 
 
 LET me rather intreat you (faid Mater- 
 nus, interrupting him) to enter, without any 
 farther preface, upon the difficulty you firft 
 undertook to clear. That we are inferior 
 to the antients in point of eloquence, I by 
 no means want to have proved - } being en- 
 tirely of that opinion : but my prefent in- 
 quiry is, how to account for our linking fo 
 far below them? A quellion, it feems, you 
 have examined, and which I am perfuad- 
 
 ed
 
 A DIALOGUE. 42* 
 
 ed you would difcufs with much calmnefs, 
 if Aper's unmerciful attack upon your favo- 
 riteorators, bad not a little difcompofed you. 
 I am nothing offended, returned MefTalla, 
 with the fentiments which Aper has ad- 
 vanced : neither ought you, my friends ; 
 remembering always that it is an eftablifhed 
 law in debates of this kind, that every man 
 may with entire fecurity difcloie his opi- 
 nion. Proceed then, I befeech you, re- 
 plied Maternus, to the examination of this 
 point concerning the antients, with a free- 
 dom equal to theirs : from which I fufpecl, 
 alas ! we have more widely degenerated 
 than even from their eloquence. 
 
 THE caufe (laid Meflklla, refuming his 
 difcourfe) does not lie very remote ; and, 
 tho' you are plea led to call upon me to alfign 
 it, is well known, I doubt not, both to you 
 and to the reii of this company. For is it 
 not obvious that Eloquence, together with 
 the reft of the politer arts, has fallen from 
 her antieut glory, not for want of admirers, 
 but through the diffolu tends of our youth, 
 the negligence of parents, the ignorance of 
 preceptors, and the univerfal difregard of 
 antient manners? evils, which derived their 
 Source from Rome, and thence fprcad them- 
 / E e 3 felves
 
 422 OF ORATORY: 
 
 felves through Italy, and over all the pro- 
 vinces : tho' the mifchief, indeed is moft 
 obfervable within oui- own walls. I mall 
 take notice, therefore, of thole vices to 
 which the youth of this city are more pecu- 
 liarly expofed ; which rife upon them in 
 number as they increafe in years. But be- 
 fore I enter farther into this fubject, let me 
 premife an obfervation or two concerning 
 the judicious method of difcipline prac- 
 tiled by our anceitors, in training up their 
 children. 
 
 IN the firft place then, the virtuous ma- 
 trons of thole wiler ages, did not abandon 
 their infants to the mean hovels of mercena- 
 ry nurfes, but tenderly reared them up at 
 their own breaiis ; efteeming the careful re- 
 gulation of their children and domeftic con- 
 cerns as the highefl points of female merit. 
 It was cuftomary with them likewife tp 
 choofe out lome elderly female relation, of 
 approved conduct, with whom the family 
 in general entrufted the care of their refpec- 
 tive children, during their infant years. 
 This venerable perfon ftriclly regulated, not 
 only their more ferious purfuits, but even 
 their very amufements ; retraining them, 
 by her refpected pretence, from faying or 
 
 acling
 
 A DIALOGUE. 423 
 
 Deling any thing contrary to decency and 
 good manners. In this manner, we are 
 informed, Cornelia the mother of the two 
 Gracchi, as alfo Aurelia and Attia, to whom 
 Julius and Auguftus Catfar owed their re- 
 fpedtive births, undertook this office of fa- 
 mily education, and trained up thole feve- 
 ral noble youths to whom they were related. 
 This method of discipline was attended 
 with one very fingular advantage : the 
 minds of young men were conducted found 
 and untainted to the ftudy of the noble arts. 
 Accordingly, whatever profeffion they de- 
 termined upon, whether that of arms, elo- 
 quence, or law, they entirely devoted them- 
 felves to that iingle purtuit, and with un- 
 did! pated application, poiYcfTed the whole 
 compafs of their chofen fcience. 
 
 BUT in the prefsnt age, the little boy is 
 delegated to the care of fome paltry Greek 
 chamber-maid, in conjunction with two or 
 three other lervants (and even thoic gene- 
 rally of the word kind) who are abfolutely 
 unfit for every rational and ferious office. 
 From the idle Talcs and grofs abfurdities of 
 theie worthlefs people, the tender and un- 
 inftrudtcd mind is Suffered to receive its ear - 
 impreiUons. It cannot, indeed, be 
 E e 4 fuppoftd
 
 424 OF ORATORY; 
 
 fuppofed, that any caution ihould be ob* 
 ferved among the domeftics ; fince the pa- 
 rents themfelves are fo far from training 
 their young families to virtue and modefty, 
 that they fet them the firfl examples of lux- 
 ury and licentioufnefs. Thus our youth 
 gradually acquire a confirmed habit of im- 
 pudence, and a total difregard of that re- 
 verence they owe both to themfelves and to 
 others. TO fay truth, it feems as if a fond- 
 nefs for horfes, actors, and gladiators, the 
 peculiar and diftinguifliing folly of this our 
 city, was imprefied upon them even in the 
 womb : and when once a paflion of this 
 contemptible fort has feized and engaged 
 the mind, what opening i$ there left for 
 the liberal arts ? 
 
 AJ.L converfation in general is infected 
 with topics of this kind ; as they are the 
 conftant fubjects of difcourfe, not only 
 amongfi our youth in their academies, but 
 even of their tutors themfelves. For it is 
 not by eftabliming a flrict difcipline, or by 
 giving proofs of their genius, that this or- 
 der of men gain pupils : it is by the mean- 
 eft compliances and the mofl fervile flattery. 
 Not to mention how ill inftructed our youth 
 are in the very elements of literature j fuffi- 
 
 cient
 
 A DIALOGUE. 425 
 
 eient pains are by no means taken in bringing 
 them acquainted with the beft authors, or 
 in giving them a proper notion of hiftory, 
 together with a knowledge of men and 
 things. The whole that feems to be con- 
 fidered in their education is, to find out a 
 perfon for them called a Rhetorician. I 
 fhall take occalion immediately, to give you 
 fome account of the rife and progrefs of this 
 profeffion in Rome, and mew you with 
 what contempt it was received by our an- 
 ceftors. But it will be neceflary to lay be- 
 fore you a previous view of that fcheme of 
 difcipline, which the antient orators pradlif- 
 edj of whofe amazing induflry and un- 
 wearied application to every branch of the 
 polite arts, we meet with many remarkable 
 accounts in their own writings. 
 
 I NEED not inform you, that Cicero, in 
 the latter end of his treatife entitled Brutus, 
 (the former part of which is employed in 
 commemorating the antient orators) gives 
 a {ketch of the feveral progreffive fteps by 
 which he formed his eloquence. He there 
 acquaints us, that he ftudied the civil law 
 under Q. Mucius -, that he was infrrudled 
 in the feveral branches of philofophy by 
 jPhilo the Academic, and Diodorus the Stoic ; 
 
 that
 
 426 OF ORATORY: 
 
 that not fatisfied with attending the lectures 
 of thofe eminent matters, of which there 
 were at that time great numbers in Rome, 
 he made a Voyage into Greece in Afia, in 
 order to enlarge his knowledge, and em- 
 brace the whole circle of fciences. Accord- 
 ingly he appears by his writings, to have 
 been matter of logic, ethics, attronomy, 
 and natural philofophy, befides being well 
 verfed in geometry, mufic, grammar, and, 
 in fhort, in every one of the fine arts. For 
 thus it is, my worthy friends, from deep 
 learning and the united confluence of the 
 arts and fciences, the refittlefs torrent of 
 that amazing eloquence derived its ttrength 
 and rapidity. 
 
 THE faculties of the orator are not exer- 
 cifed, indeed, as. in other fciences, within 
 certain precife and determinate limits : on 
 the contrary, eloquence is the moil com- 
 prehenfive of the whole circle of arts. Thus 
 He alone can juftly be deemed an orator, 
 who knows how to employ the mod per- 
 fuafive arguments upon every question j 
 who can exprefs himfelf fuitabiy to the dig- 
 nity of his fubject, with all the powers 
 of grace and harmony; in a word, who 
 can penetrate into every minute circum^- 
 
 fiance,
 
 A DIALOGUE. 427 
 
 ftance, and manage the whole train of in- 
 cidents to the greater! advantage of his caufe. 
 Such, at leaft, was the high idea which the 
 antients formed of this illuftrious character. 
 In order however to attain this eminent 
 qualification, they did not think it necefTary 
 to declaim in the fchools, and idly wafte 
 their breath upon feigned or frivolous con- 
 troverfies. It was their wifer method, to 
 apply themfelves to the ftudy of fuch ufe- 
 ful arts as concern life and manners, as 
 treat of moral good and evil, of juftice and 
 injuftice, of the decent and the unbecoming 
 in actions. And, indeed, it is upon points 
 of this nature that the bufmefs of the orator 
 principally turns. For example, in the ju- 
 diciary kind it relates to matters of equity; 
 as in the deliberate it is employed in de- 
 termining the fit and the expedient : ftill 
 however thefe two branches are not fo ab- 
 folutely diftindt, but that they are frequent- 
 ly blended with each other. Now it is im- 
 poffible, when queftions of this kind fall 
 under the confideration of an orator, to 
 enlarge upon them in all the elegant and 
 enlivening fpirit of an efficacious eloquence, 
 unlefs he is perfectly well acquainted with 
 
 human
 
 428 OF ORATORY: 
 
 human nature j unlefs he understands the 
 power and extent of moral duties, and can 
 diftinguifh thofe actions which do not par- 
 take either of vice or virtue. 
 
 FROM the fame fource, likewife, he 
 muft derive his influence over the paffions. 
 For if he is fkilled, for inftance, in the na- 
 ture of indignation, he will be fo much the 
 more capable of foothing or enflaming the 
 breafts of his judges: if he knows wherein 
 companion confifts, and by what workings 
 of the heart it is moved, he will the more 
 eafily raife that tender affection of the foul. 
 An orator trained up in this difcipline, and 
 practifed in thefe arts, will have full com- 
 mand over the breafts of his audience, in 
 whatever difpoiltion it may be his chance 
 to find them : and thus furnifhed with all 
 the numberlefs powers of perfuaiion, will 
 judicioufly vary and accommodate his elo- 
 quence, as particular circumftances and con- 
 iunctures fliall require. There are feme, 
 we find, who are moft ftruck with that man- 
 ner of elocution, where the arguments are 
 drawn up in a fhort and clofe ftyle : upon 
 fuch an occafion the orator will experience 
 the great advantage of being converiant in 
 logic. Others, on the contrary, admire 
 
 flowing
 
 A DIALOGUE. 429 
 
 flowing and diffufive periods where the 
 illuftrations are borrowed from the ordinary 
 and familiar images of common obferva- 
 tion : here the Peripatetic writers will give 
 him fome afllftance ; as indeed they will, 
 in general, fupply him with many ufeful 
 hints in all the different methods of popu- 
 lar addrefs. The Academics will infpire 
 him with a becoming warmth : Plato with 
 fublimity of fentiments, and Xenophon 
 with an eafy and elegant diction. Even the 
 exclamatory manner of Epicurus, or Me- 
 trodorus, may be found, in fome circum- 
 ftances, not altogether unferviceable. In a 
 word, what the Stoics pretend of their wife 
 man, ought to be verified in our orator ; 
 and he fhould actually poflefs all human 
 knowledge. Accordingly, the antients who 
 applied themfelves to eloquence, not only 
 ftudied the civil laws, but alfo grammar, 
 poetry, mufic, and geometry. Indeed, 
 there are few caufes (perhaps I might juft- 
 ly fay there are none) wherein a fkill in the 
 firft. is not abfolutely neceflary ; as there 
 are many in which an acquaintance with 
 the lad mentioned fciences are highly re- 
 quifite. 
 
 IF
 
 430 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 IF it fhould be objected, that <r eld-* 
 " quence is the fingle fcience requifite for 
 <c the orator ; as an occafional recourfe to 
 " the others will be fufficient for all his 
 <c purpofes :" I anfwer ; in the firft place, 
 there will always be a remarkable difference 
 in the manner of applying what we take up, 
 as it were, upon loan, and what we pro- 
 perly poffefs ; fo that it will ever be mani- 
 feft, whether the orator is indebted to others 
 for what he produces, or derives it from his 
 own unborrowed fund. And in the next 
 place, the fciences throw an inexprefllble 
 grace over our competitions, even where 
 they are not immediately concerned ; as 
 their effects are difcernible where we lead 
 expect: to find them. This powerful charrn 
 is not only diftinguifhed by the learned 
 and the judicious, but (hikes even the mod 
 common and popular clafs of auditors j in- 
 fomuch that one may frequently hear them 
 applauding a fpeaker of this improved kind, 
 as a man of genuine erudition ; as enrich- 
 ed with the whole treafures of eloquence ; 
 and, in one word, recognife the com- 
 plete orator. But I will take the liberty to 
 affirm, that no man ever did, nor indeed 
 
 ever
 
 OF ORATORY; 43! 
 
 ever can 3 maintain that exalted character, 
 unlefs he enters the forum fupported by the 
 full ftrength of the united arts. Accom- 
 plishments, however, of this fort are now 
 fo totally neglected, that the pleadings of 
 our orators are debafed by the loweft expref- 
 fions ; as a general ignorance both of the 
 laws of our country and the ads of the fe- 
 nate, is vifible throughout their perform- 
 ances. All knowledge of the rights and 
 cuftoms of Rome is profefiedly ridiculed, 
 and philofophy feems at prelent to be confi- 
 dered as fomething that ought to be Shun- 
 ned and dreaded. Thus Eloquence, like a 
 dethroned potentate, is banifhed her right- 
 ful dominions, and confined to barren points 
 and low conceit : and fhe who was once 
 miftrefs of the whole circle of fciences, and 
 charmed every beholder with the goodly 
 appearance of her glorious train, is now 
 ftripped of all her attendants (I had almoft 
 faid of all her genius) and feems as one of 
 the meaneft of the mechanic arts. This 
 therefore I confider as the firft and the 
 principal reafon, of our having fo greatly 
 declined from the fpirit of the antients. 
 
 IF
 
 4?- OF ORATORY* 
 
 IF T were called upon to fupport my opn 
 nioi athorities, mightlnot jjuftly name* 
 an g the Gieckns, Demofthenes ? who* 
 we are informed, conftantly attended the 
 lectures of Plato : as among our own coun- 
 trymen, Cicero himfelf arTnres us, (and 
 in thefe very words, if I rightly remem- 
 ber) that he owed whatever advances he 
 had made in eloquence, not to the rheto- 
 ricians, but to the Academic philosophers. 
 
 OTHER and very confiderable reafons 
 might be produced, for the decay .of elo- 
 quence. But I leave them, my friends, as 
 it is proper I fhould, to be mentioned by 
 you ; having performed my fhare in the ex- 
 amination of this queftion : and with a 
 freedom, which will give, I imagine, as 
 ufual, much offence. I am fure, at leafl, 
 if certain of our contemporaries were to be 
 informed of what I have here maintained, 
 I fhould be told, that in laying it down as 
 a maxim that a knowledge both of law 
 and philofophy are eflential qualifications 
 in an orator, I have been fondly purfuing a 
 phantom of my own imagination. 
 
 I AM fo far from thinking, replied Ma- 
 ternus, you have completed the part you 
 
 undertook
 
 A DIALOGUE. 433 
 
 undertook, that I fhould rather imagine you 
 had only given us the firft general fketch 
 of your defign. You have marked out to 
 us, indeed, thofe fciences wherein the an- 
 tient orators wereinftructed; and have pla- 
 ced in ftrong contraft their fuccefsful indu- 
 ftry, with our unperforming ignorance. But 
 fomething farther ftill remains t and as you 
 have (hewn us the fuperior acquirements 
 bi the orators in thofe more improved ages 
 of eloquence, as well as the remarkable de- 
 ficiency of thofe in our own times ; I mould 
 be glad you would proceed to acquaint us 
 with the particular exercifes by which the 
 youth of thofe earlier days were wont to 
 ftrengthen and improve their geniufes. For 
 I dare fay you will not deny, that oratory 
 is acquired by practice far better than by 
 precept : and our other two friends here 
 feem willing, I perceive, to admit it. 
 
 To which, when Aper and Secundus had 
 fignified their affent, Meflalla, refuming his 
 difcourfe, continued as follows : 
 
 HAVING then, as it mould feem, dif- 
 
 clofed to your fatisfaction the feeds and firft 
 
 principles of antient eloquence, by fpecify- 
 
 ing the feveral kinds of arts to which the 
 
 F f antienC
 
 434 OF ORATORY: 
 
 antient orators were trained ; I mall nov? 
 lay before you the method they purfued, 
 hi order to gain a facility in the exertion of 
 eloquence. This indeed I have in fome 
 meafure anticipated, by mentioning the pre- 
 paratory arts to which they applied them- 
 felves : for it is impoffible to make any 
 progrefs in a compafs fo various and fo ab- 
 hrufe, unlefs we not only ftrengthen our 
 knowledge by reflection, but improve a ge- 
 neral aptitude by frequent exercife. Thus 
 it appears, that the fatne fteps muft be puf- 
 fued in exerting our oratory, as in attaining 
 it. But if this" truth fhould not be univer- 
 ially admitted; if any mould think, that 
 eloquence may be poffefled without paying 
 previous c6urt to her attendant ibiences ; 
 mod certainly, at leaft it will not be deni- 
 ed, that a mind duly impregnated with the 
 polite arts, will enter with fo much the 
 more advantage upon thofe exercifes pecu- 
 liar to the oratorical circus. 
 
 ACCORDINGLY, our anccffors, when 
 they defigned a young man for the profef- 
 iion of eloquence, having previouily taken 
 due care of his domeftic education, and 
 leafoned his mind with ufeful knowledge, 
 
 introduced
 
 A DIALOGUE. 435 
 
 introduced him to the mod eminent orator 
 in Rome. From that time the youth 
 commenced his conftant follower, attend- 
 ing him upon all occasions, whether he ap- 
 peared in the public afiemblies of the peo- 
 ple, or in the courts of civil judicature. 
 Thus he learned, if I may ufe the e'xpref- 
 fion, the arts of oratorical conflict in the ve- 
 ry field of battle. The advantages which 
 flowed from this method, were eonfiderable 2 
 it animated the courage and quickened the 
 judgment of youth, thus to receive their 
 instructions in the eye of the world, and in 
 the midft of affairs j where no man could 
 advance an abfurd or a weak argument 
 without being rejected by the bench, expof- 
 ed by his adverfary, and defpifed by the 
 whole audience. By this method they im- 
 bibed the pure and uncorrupted ftreams 
 of genuine eloquence. But tho' they chief- 
 ly attached themfelves to one particular 
 orator, they heard likewife all the reft of 
 their contemporary pleaders, in many of 
 their refpedtive debates. Hence alfo they 
 had an opportunity of acquainting them- 
 felves with the various fentiments of the 
 people, and of obferving what pleafed 
 F f 2 or
 
 ORATORY: 
 
 or difgufted them moft in the feveral ora- 
 tors of the forum. By this means they 
 were (applied with an inftruftor of the beft 
 and moft improving kind, exhibiting, not 
 the feigned femblance of Eloquence, but 
 her real and lively manifeftation : not a pre- 
 tended, but a genuine adverfary, armed in 
 earneft for the combat; an audience ever 
 full and ever new, compofedof foes as well 
 as friends, and where not a fingle cxpref- 
 iion could fall uncenfured, or unapplauded. 
 For you will agree with me, I am well 
 perfuaded, when I alfert, that a folid and 
 lading reputation of eloquence muft be ac- 
 quired by the cenfure of our enemies, as 
 well as by the applaufe of our friends; or 
 rather, indeed, it is from the former that it 
 derives its fureft and moft unqueftioned 
 fhength and firmnefs. Accordingly, a youth 
 thus formed to the bar, a frequent and atten- 
 tive hearer of the moft illuftrious orators 
 and debates, inftruded by the experience 
 of others, acquainted with the popular tafte, 
 and daily converfant in the laws of his coun- 
 try ; to whom the folcmn prefence of the 
 judges, and the awful eyes of a full audi- 
 ence were familiar, rofe at once into affairs, 
 
 and
 
 A DIALOGUE. 437 
 
 and was equal to every caufe. Hence it 
 was that CrafTus at the age of nineteen, 
 Caefar at twenty-one, Pollio at twenty-two, 
 and Calvus when he was but a few years 
 older, pronounced thofe feveral fpeeches 
 againft Carbo, Dolabella, Cato, and Vati- 
 nius, which we read to this hour with ad- 
 miration. 
 
 ON the other hand, our modern youth 
 receive their education under certain de- 
 claimers called Rhetoricians : a fet of men 
 who made their firft appearance in Rome, p. 
 little before the time of Cicero. And that 
 they were by no means approved by our an- 
 ceftors, plainly appears from their being en- , 
 joined, under the cenforfhip of CraiTus and 
 Domitius, to ihut up their fchools of im- 
 pudence ^ as Cicero exprefics it. But 1 was 
 going to fay we are lent to certain acade- 
 mies, where it is hard to determine whether 
 the place, the company, or the method of 
 inftruclion is molt likely to infect the minds 
 of young people, and produce a wrong 
 turn of thought. For nothing, certainly, 
 can there be of an affecting folemnity in an 
 audience where all who compofe it are of 
 the fame low degree of undemanding ; nor 
 F f 3 . any
 
 438 OF ORATORY: 
 
 any advantage to be received from their 
 fellow-ftudents, where a parcel of boys 
 and raw youths of unripe judgments ha- 
 rague before each other, without the leaft 
 fear or danger of criticifm. And as for 
 their exercifes, they are ridiculous in their 
 very nature. They confift of two kinds, 
 and are either declamatory or controverfial. 
 The firft, as being eafier and requiring lefs 
 fkill, is affigned to the younger lads : the 
 other is the tafk of more mature years. But, 
 good gods ! with what incredible abfurdity 
 are they compofed ! The truth is, the ftyle 
 of their declamations is as falfe and contem- 
 ptible, as the fubjecls are ufelefs and ficti- 
 tious. Thus, being taught to harangue in a 
 moft pompous diction, on the rewards due 
 to tyrannicides, on the election to be made 
 by deflowered virgins*, on the licentioufnefs 
 of married women, on the ceremonies to 
 be obferved in times of peftilence, with 
 other topics of the fame unconcerning kind, 
 .which are daily debated in the fchools, and 
 
 * It was one of the queftions ufually debated in thefe 
 rhetoric fchools, whether the party who had been ra- 
 vifhed ftiould choofe to marry the violator of her cha- 
 ility, or rather have him put to death. 
 
 fcarce.
 
 A BJALOCUE, 439 
 fcarce ever at the bar ; < they appear abfo- 
 " lute novices in the affairs of the world, 
 " and are by much too elevated for com- 
 " mon life." 
 
 " * Here Meflalla paufed : when Secun- 
 " dus, taking his turn in the converfation, 
 ce began with obferving, that" the true and 
 lofty fpirit of genuine eloquence, like that 
 cf a clear and vigorous flame, is nonrilhed 
 by proper fuel, excited by agitation, and 
 flill brightens as it burns. It was in this 
 manner, " faid he," that the oratory of 
 our anceftors was kindled and -fpread itfelf. 
 
 * The latter part of Meflklra's difcourfe, together 
 with what immediately followed it in the original, is 
 k>lr. : The chafm, however, does not feem to be fo 
 great as fome of the commentators fufpecl. The tranf- 
 lator therefore has ventured to fill it up in his own 
 way, with thofe lines which are diftin^uifhed by invert- 
 ed comma's. He has likcwile given the next fubfe- 
 quent part of the converfation, to Secundus ; tho* it 
 does not appear in the original to whom it belongs. 
 It would be of no great importance to the Englifh rea- 
 der, to juftify this lalt article : tho', perhaps, it would 
 jiot.be very difficult, if it were neceilary. 
 
 To fave the reader the trouble of turning to a fe- 
 cond note upon a like occafion, it is proper to obferw* 
 in this place, that he will iind the farne inverted com- 
 ma's in page 448, 9. The words included between 
 them, are alfo an addition of the fame kind, and far 
 $he fame reafon, as that juft now mentioned. 
 
 F f 4 The
 
 440 OF ORATORY: 
 
 The moderns have as much merit of this 
 kind, perhaps, as can be acquired under a 
 fettled and peaceable government: but far 
 inferior, no doubt, to that which fhone 
 out in the times of licentioufnefs and confu- 
 fion, when He was deemed the ableft ora- 
 tor, who had moil influence over a reftlefs 
 and ungoverried multitude. To this fi- 
 tuation of public affairs was owing thofe 
 continual debates concerning the Agrarian 
 laws, and the popularity confequent there- 
 upon ; thofe long harangues of the magi- 
 ftrates, thofe impeachments of the great, 
 thofe factions of the nobles, thofe hereditary 
 enmities in particular families, and in fine, 
 thofe inceflant ftruggles between the fenate 
 and the commons : which, tho' each of 
 them prejudicial to the ftate, yet moft cer- 
 tainly contributed to produce and encourage 
 that rich vein of eloquence which difcover- 
 ed itfelf in thofe tempeftuous days. The 
 Avay to dignities lay directly through the 
 paths of eloquence. The more a man fig- 
 nalized himfelf by his abilities in this art, fo 
 much the more eafily he opened his road to 
 preferment, and maintained an attendant 
 over his colleagues, at the fame time that it 
 
 heightened
 
 A DIALOGUE. 44 r 
 
 Heightened his intereft with the nobles, his 
 authority with the feriate, and his reputa- 
 tion with the people in general. The 
 patronage of thefe admired orators was 
 courted even by foreign nations ; as the fe- 
 veral magiftrates of our own, endeavored 
 to recommend themfelves to their favor 
 and protection, by {hewing them the high- 
 eft marks of honor whenever they fet out 
 for the adminiftration of their refpedlive 
 provinces, and by fludioufly cultivating a 
 friendship with them at their return. They 
 were called upon, without any felicitation 
 on their own part, to fill up the fupreme 
 dignities of the (rate. Nor were they even 
 in a private ftation without great power, as 
 by means of the perfuafive arts they had a 
 very considerable influence over both the 
 fenate and the people. The truth is, it 
 was an eftablimed maxim in thofe days, 
 that without the oratorical talents no man 
 could either acquire or maintain any high 
 poft in the government. And no wonder 
 indeed, that fuch a notion mould univerfal- 
 ly prevail : fince it was impoffible for any 
 pcrfon endued with this commanding art, to 
 pafs his life in obfcurity, how much fo- 
 
 ever
 
 442 OF ORATORY* 
 
 ever it might be agreeable to his own incli- 
 nations j iince it was not fufficient merely 
 to vote in the fenate, without fupporting 
 that vote with good fenfe and eloquence ; 
 fince in all public impeachments or cjv,il 
 caufes, 'the accufed was obliged to anfwer 
 to the charge in his own perfon ; iince writ- 
 ten depofitions were not admitted in judicial 
 matters, but the witneiTes were called up- 
 on to deliver their evidence in open court. 
 Thus our anceftors were eloquent, as much 
 by neceffity as by encouragements. To be 
 poflefTed of the perfuafive talents, was 
 efteemed the higheft glory ; as the contra- 
 ry character was held in the utmoft con- 
 tempt. In a word, they were incited to the 
 purfuit of oratory, by a principle of honor 
 as well as by a view of intereft. They 
 dreaded the difgraceof being confidered ra- 
 ther as clients than patrons j of lofing thofe 
 dependants which their a-nceftors had tranf- 
 mitted to them, and feeing them mix in 
 the train of others; in $iort, of being look- 
 ed upon as men of mean abilities, and con- 
 fequently either parTed over in the difpofal 
 of high offices, or defpifed in the adminir 
 ^ration of therri. 
 
 I KNOW
 
 A DIALOGUE. 443 
 
 I KNOW not whether thofe antient hifto- 
 rical pieces, which were lately collected and 
 published by Mucianus from the old libra- 
 ries where they have hitherto been preferv- 
 cd, have yet fallen into your hands. This 
 collection confifts of eleven volumes of the 
 public journals, and three of epiftles : by 
 which it appears that Pompey and CrafTus 
 gained as much advantage from their elo- 
 quence as their arms ; that Lucullus, Me- 
 tellus, Lentulus, Curio, and the reft of thofc 
 diftinguimed chiefs, devoted themfelves 
 with great application to this infinuating 
 art ; in a word, that not a fingle perfon in 
 thofe times rofe to any confiderable degree 
 of power, without the affiftance of the rhe- 
 torical talents. 
 
 To thefe confiderations may be farther 
 added, that the dignity and importance of 
 the debates in which the antients were enga- 
 ged, contributed greatly to advance their 
 eloquence. Moft certain, indeed, it is, that 
 an orator muft neceilarily find great differ^ 
 cnce with refpect to his powers, when he 
 is to harangue only upon fome trifling rob- 
 bery, or a little paultry form of pleading ; 
 when the faculties of his mind are 
 
 warmed
 
 444 OF ORATORY: 
 
 warmed and enlivened by fuch interesting 
 and animated topics as bribery at elections, 
 as the oppreffion of our allks, or the maflacre 
 of our fellow citizens. Evils thefe, which 
 beyond all peradventure, it were better 
 fliould never happen ; and we have reafon 
 to rejoice tlr.t we live under a government 
 where we are ftrangers to fuch terrible ca- 
 lamities: ft ill it muft be acknowledged, that 
 wherever they did happen, they were won- 
 derful incentives to eloquence. For the 
 orator's genius rifes and expands itfelf, in 
 proportion to the dignity of the occafion 
 upon which it is exerted ; and I will lay it 
 down as a maxim, that it is impoffible to 
 fhine out in all the powerful luftre of genu- 
 ine eloquence, without being inflamed by a 
 fuitable importance of fubjedt. Thus the 
 fpeech of Demofthenes again ft his guardi- 
 ans, fcarcely, I imagine, eftabliihed his 
 character; as it was not f he defence of A rchi- 
 as, or Qumclius, that acquired Cicero the 
 reputation of a confummate orator. It was 
 Cataline, and Milo, and Verres, and Mark 
 Antony, that warmed him with that noble 
 glow of eloquence, which gave the fi- 
 aifhing brightnefs to his unequalled fame. 
 
 Far
 
 A DIALOGUE. 445 
 
 Far am I from insinuating, that fuch infa- 
 mous characters deferve to be tolerated in 
 a ftate, in order to fupply convenient mat- 
 ter of oratory : All I contend for is, that 
 this art florimes to moft advantage in turbu- 
 Jent times. Peace, no doubt, is infinitely- 
 preferable to war ; but it is the latter only 
 that forms the foldier. It is juft the fame 
 with eloquence : the oftner (he enters, a I 
 may fo fay, the field of battle ; the more 
 wounds fhe gives and receives ; the more 
 powerful the adverfary with which flie con- 
 tends, fo much the more ennobled fhe ap- 
 pears in the eye of mankind. For it is the 
 difpofition of hu-man nature, always to ad- 
 mire what we fee is attended with danger 
 and difficulty in others, how much fbever we 
 may choofe eafe and fecurity for ourfelves. 
 ANOTHER advantage which the antient 
 orators had over the moderns, is, that they 
 were not confined in their pleadings, as we 
 are, to a few hours. Oh the contrary, they 
 Were at liberty to adjourn as often as they 
 thought proper ; they were unlimited as to 
 the number of days or of counfel, and every 
 orator might extend his fpeech to the length 
 agreeable to himfelf. Pompey, in his 
 
 third
 
 446 OF ORATORt: 
 
 third confulmip, was the firft who curbed 
 the fpirit of eloquence j ftill however per- 
 mitting all caufes to be heard, agreeably to 
 the laws, in the forum and before the Prae* 
 tors. How much more confiderable the bu- 
 iinefs of thofe magiftrates was, than that 
 of the Centumvirs, who at prefent deter- 
 mine all caufes, is evident from this cir- 
 cumftance, that not a fingle oration of Cice- 
 ro, Caefar, or Brutus, or in mort of any one 
 celebrated orator, was fpoken before thefe 
 laft, excepting only thofe of Pollio in favor 
 of the heirs of Urbinia. But then it muft b6 
 remembered, that thefe were delivered 
 about the middle of the reign of Auguftus, 
 when a long and uninterrupted peace abroad, 
 a perfect tranquillity at home, together 
 with the general good conduct of that wife 
 prince, had damped the flames of eloquence 
 as well as thofe of fedition. 
 
 You will fmile, perhaps, at what I am, 
 going to fay, and I mention it for that pur- 
 pofe : but is there not fomething in the pre- 
 fent confined garb of our orators, that has 
 an ill effect even upon their elocution, and 
 makes it appear low and contemptible ? 
 May we not fuppofe likewife, that much 
 
 of
 
 A DIALOGUE. 447 
 
 6f the fpirit of oratory is funk, by that 
 clofe and defpicable fcenc wherein many 
 of our caufes are now debated ? For the 
 orator, like a generous fteed, requires a 
 free and open fpace wherein to expatiate ; 
 otherwife the force of his powers is broken, 
 and half the energy of his talents is check- 
 ed in their career. There is another eir- 
 cumftance alfo exceedingly prejudicial to 
 the intereft of eloquence, as it prevents a 
 due attention to ftyle : we are now obliged 
 to enter upon our fpeech whenever the 
 judge calls upon us; not to mention the fre- 
 quent interruptions which arife by the ex- 
 amination of witneffes. Befides, the courts 
 of judicature are at prefent fo unfrequented, 
 that the orator feems to ftand alone, and 
 talk to bare walls. But eloquence re- 
 joices in the clamor of loud applaufe, and 
 exults in a full audience, fuch as ufed to 
 prefs round the antient orators when the 
 forum flood thronged with nobles j when 
 a numerou's retinue of clients, when fo- 
 reign ambafladors, and whole cities aflift- 
 ed at the debate ; and when even Rome 
 herfelf was concerned in the event. The 
 very appearance of that prodigious con- 
 
 courfc
 
 448 OF ORATORY: 
 
 courfe of people, which attended the trials 
 of Beftia, Cornelius, Scaurus, Milo, and 
 Vatinius, muft have enftamed the breaft 
 of the coldefl orator. Accordingly we 
 find, that of all the antient orations now 
 extant, there are none which have more 
 eminently diftinguifhed their authors, than' 
 thofe which were pronounced under fuch 
 favorable circumftances. To thefe advan- 
 tages we may farther add likewife, the 
 frequent general affemblies of the people, 
 the privilege of arraigning the moil con- 
 iiderable perfonages, and the popularity 
 of fuch impeachments: when the fons of 
 oratory fpared not even Scipio, Sylla, or 
 Pompey > and when, in confequence of 
 fuch acceptable attacks upon fufpected 
 power^ they were fure of being heard by 
 the people with the utmoft attention and re- 
 gard. How mud thefe united caufes con- 
 tribute to raife the genius, and infpire the 
 eloquence of the antients! 
 
 c< MATERNUS, who, you will re- 
 " member was in the midft of his ha- 
 <c rangue in favor of poetry when MefTal- 
 " la Sfirft entered into the room, rinding 
 '* Secundus was now filent, took that op- 
 
 < portunity
 
 A DIALOGUE. 449 
 
 ee portunity of refuming his invective a- 
 " gainft the exercife of the oratorical arts in 
 <{ general." That fpecies of eloquence, 
 faid he, wherein poetry is concerned, is 
 calm and peaceable, moderate and virtuous: 
 whereas that other fupreme kind which my 
 two friends here have been defcribing, is 
 the offspring of licentioufnefs (by fools mif- 
 called liberty) and the companion of fedi- 
 tion; bold, obftinate, and haughty, un- 
 knowing how to yield or how to obey, an 
 encourager of a lawlefs populace, and a 
 ftranger in all well-regulated communities. 
 Who ever heard of an orator in Lacsxiemon 
 or Crete ? cities which exercifed the feve- 
 reft difcipline, and were governed by the 
 ftricteft laws. We have no account of 
 Perfian or Macedonian eloquence, or indeed 
 of that of any other ftate which fubmitted 
 to a regular adminiftration of government. 
 Whereas Rhodes and Athens (places of po- 
 pular rule, where all things lay open to all 
 men) fwarmed with orators innumerable. 
 In the fame manner, Rome, while fhe was 
 under no fettled policy ; while (he was torn 
 with parties, difientions, and factions ; while 
 there was no peace in the forum, no har- 
 G g mony
 
 450 OF ORATORY: 
 
 mony in the fenate, no moderation in the 
 judges ; while there was neither reverence 
 paid to fuperiors, nor bounds prcfcribed to 
 magiftrates Rome, under thefe circum- 
 flances, produced, beyond all difpute, a 
 jftronger and brighter vein of eloquence ; as 
 fome valuable plants will florifh even in the 
 wildeft foil. But the tongue of the Grac- 
 chi did nothing compenfate the republic 
 for their feditious laws : nor the fuperior 
 eloquence of Cicero make him any amends 
 for his fad cataftrophe. 
 
 THE truth is, the forum (that fingle re- 
 main which now furvives of antient orato^ 
 ry) is, even in its prefent fituation, an evi^ 
 dent proof that all things amongft us are 
 nat conducted in that well ordered manner 
 one could wim. For, tell me, is it not the 
 guilty or the miferable alone, that fly to us 
 for affiftance ? When any community im- 
 plores our protection, is it not becaufe it 
 cither is infulted by fome neighboring ftate, 
 or torn by domeftic feuds ? And what pro- 
 vince ever feeks our patronage, till (he has 
 been plundered or opprefled ? But far better 
 it furely is, never to have been injured, than 
 at laft to be redrefled. If there was a go- 
 vernment
 
 A DIALOGUE. 451 
 
 vernment in the world free from commo- 
 tions and difturbances, the profeffion of ora- 
 tory would there be as ufelefs, as that of 
 medicine to the found : and as the phyfician 
 would have little profit or practice among 
 the healthy and the ftrong, fo neither would 
 the orator have much bufinefs or honor 
 where obedience and good manners uni- 
 verfally prevail. To what purpofe are ftu- 
 died fpeeches in a fenate, where the better 
 and the major part of the aflembly are al- 
 ready of one mind ? What the expediency 
 of haranguing the populace, where public 
 affairs are not determined by the voice of an 
 ignorant and giddy multitude, but by the 
 ileddy wifdom of a fingle perfon ? To what 
 end voluntary informations, where crimes 
 are unfrequentand inconfiderable ? or of la- 
 bored and invidious defences, where the 
 clemency of the judge is ever on the fide of 
 the accufed ? Believe me then, my worthy 
 (and, as far as the circumftances of the age 
 require, my eloquent) friends, had the. gods 
 reverfed the date of your exiftence, and pla- 
 ced Tou in. the times of thofe antients we fo 
 much admire, and Them in yours ; Tou 
 would not have fallen fhort of that glorious 
 G g 2 fpirit
 
 452 OF ORATORY, &e. 
 
 fpirit which diftinguifhed their oratory, nor 
 would they have been deftitute of a proper 
 temperature and moderation. But fince a 
 high reputation for eloquence is not con- 
 fident with great repofe in the public 5 let 
 every age enjoy its own peculiar advantages, 
 without derogating from thofe of a former. 
 MATERNUS having ended ; MefTalla 
 obferved, that there were fome points 
 which his friend had laid down, that were 
 not perfectly agreeable to his fentiments; 
 as there were others, which he wifhed 
 to hear explained more at large : but the 
 time is now, faid he, too far advanced. If 
 I have maintained any thing, replied Ma- 
 ternus, which requires to be opened more 
 explicitly, I {hall be ready to clear it up in 
 fome future conference : at the fame time 
 rifing from his feat and embracing Aper j 
 Meffalla and I (continued he fmiling) mali 
 arraign you, be well allured, before the 
 poets and admirers of the antients. And 
 I both of you (returned Aper) before the 
 rhetoricians. Thus we parted in mutual 
 good humor. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 ;BS 
 
 
 131966 
 
 * 
 
 LAP 
 
 L-9-10m-5,'28 
 
 
 
 ...... TWi