FOUR EARLY PAMPHLETS

BY WILLIAM GODWIN

1783

 [A Defense of the Rockingham Party, in Their Late Coalition with the Right Honorable Frederic Lord North]

 [Instructions to a Statesman]

 [An Account of the Seminary]

 [The Herald of Literature]

A

DEFENCE

OF THE

ROCKINGHAM PARTY, IN THEIR LATE

COALITION

WITH

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE FREDERIC LORD NORTH. 

LONDON: Printed for J. STOCKDALE, opposite Burlington House, Piccadilly. 1783. [Price One Shilling and Sixpence. ] _Entered at Stationers Hall. _

A

DEFENCE

OF THE

ROCKINGHAM PARTY, &C. &C. &C. 

 * * * * *

The present reign will certainly appear to our posterity full of thenoblest materials for history. Many circumstances seem to have pointedit out as a very critical period. The general diffusion of science has, in some degree, enlightened the minds of all men; and has cleared such, as have any influence upon the progress of manners and society, from athousand unworthy pre-possessions. The dissipation and luxury that reignuncontrouled have spread effiminacy and irresolution every where. --Thegrand defection of the United States of America from the mother country, is one of the most interesting events, that has engaged the attention ofEurope for centuries. And the number of extraordinary geniuses that havedistinguished themselves in the political world, gives a dignity to thescene. They pour a lustre over the darkest parts of the story, andbestow a beauty upon the tragedy, that it could not otherwise havepossessed. 

At a time like this, when the attention of mankind has been kept aliveby a series of the most important events, we cease to admire at thingswhich would otherwise appear uncommon, and wonders almost lose theirname. Even now, however, when men were almost grown callous to novelty, and the youngest of us had, like Cato in the play, lived long enough tobe "surprised at nothing, " a matter has occurred which few expected, andto which, for that reason, men of no great strength of mind, of no nerveof political feeling, scarcely know how to reconcile themselves. I referto the coalition between the friends of the late marquis of Rockinghamand the noble commoner in the blue ribbon. 

The manner of blaming this action is palpable and easy. The censure ischiefly directed against that wonderful man, whom, at least in theirhearts, his countrymen, I believe, have agreed to regard as the personof brightest genius, and most extensive capacity, that now adorns theBritish senate. Has not this person, we are asked, for years attackedthe noble lord in the most unqualified manner? Is there any aspersion, any insinuation, that he has not thrown out upon his character? Has henot represented him as the weakest man, and the worst minister, to whomthe direction of affairs was ever committed? Has he not imputed to hisprerogative principles, and his palpable misconduct, the whole catalogueof our misfortunes? If such men as these are to unite for the detestedpurposes of ambition, what security can we have for any thing valuable, that yet remains to us? Is not this the very utmost reach of frontlessprofligacy? What dependence after this is to be placed in the man, whohas thus given the lie to all his professions, and impudently flown inthe face of that honest and unsuspecting virtue, which had hithertogiven him credit for the rectitude of his intentions?

I do not mean for the present to enter into a direct answer to theseseveral observations. I leave it to others, to rest the weight of theircause upon sounding exclamations and pompous interogatories. For myself, I am firmly persuaded, that the oftner the late conduct of theRockingham connexion is summoned to the bar of fair reason, the morecooly it is considered, and the less the examiner is led away by theparticular prejudices of this side or of that, the more commendable itwill appear. We do not fear the light. We do not shun the scrutiny. Weare under no apprehensions for the consequences. 

I will rest my argument upon the regular proof of these threepropositions. 

First--That the Rockingham connexion, was the only connexion by whichthe country could be well served. 

Secondly--That they were not by themselves of sufficient strength tosupport the weight of administration. 

Thirdly--That they were not the men whose services were the most likelyto be called for by the sovereign, in the present crisis. 

First--I am to prove, that the country could not be well served but bythe Rockingham connexion. 

There are three points principally concerned in the constituting a goodadministration; liberal principles, respectable abilities, andincorruptible integrity. --Let us examine with a view to these, the otherfour parties in the British government. The connexion of the earl ofShelburne, that of lord North, the Bedford party, and the Scottish. Inreviewing these, it is necessary that I should employ a manly freedom, though, at the same time, I should be much unwilling to do a partialinjustice to any of them. 

It is true, there is some difference between the language of the samemen in office, and out of office. The Bedford connexion, however, havenever been conceived to bear an over favourable aspect to the cause ofliberty. They are the avowed enemies of innovation and reform. 

The Scottish party are pretty much confounded with the set of men thatare called, by way of distinction, the king's friends. The design ofthese men has been to exalt regal power and prerogative upon the ruinsof aristocracy, and the neck of the people. Arguments, and those by nomeans of a frivolous description, have been brought to prove, that amost subtle and deep-laid scheme was formed by them, in the beginning ofthe reign, to subserve this odious purpose. It has been supposed to havebeen pursued with the most inflexible constancy, and, like a skiff, whenit sails along the meandering course of a river, finally to have turnedto account the most untoward gales. 

Lord North, whatever we may suppose to have been his intrinsicabilities, stands forward, as, perhaps, the most unfortunate minister, that this country ever produced. Misfortune overtook him in theassertion of the highest monarchical principles. In spite of misfortune, he adherred inflexibly to that assertion. In the most criticalsituations he remained in a state of hesitation and uncertainty, tillthe tide, that "taken at the flood, led up to fortune, " was lost. Hisversatility, and the undisguised attachment, that he manifested toemolument and power, were surely unworthy of the stake that wasentrusted to him. 

In what I have now said, I do not much fear to be contradicted. It wasnot with a view to such as are attached to any of these parties, that Ihave taken up the pen. Those who come under this description, are almostuniversally the advocates of monarchy, and think that they have nothingto regret, but that power and police are not established upon a moreuncontrolable footing among us. To such persons I do not address myself. I know of nothing that the friends of lord Rockingham have to offer thatcan be of any weight with them; and, for my own part, I should blush tosay a word, that should tend to conciliate their approbation to asystem, in which my heart was interested. The men I wish chiefly to havein view, are those that are personally attached to the earl ofShelburne; such as stand aloof from all parties, and are inclined tohave but an indifferent opinion of any; and such as have adhered to theconnexion I have undertaken to defend, but whose approbation has beensomewhat cooled by their late conduct. The two last in particular, Iconsider as least under the power of prejudice, and most free to theinfluence of rational conviction. 

The friends of freedom have, I believe, in no instance hesitated, butbetween the Rockingham connexion, and the earl of Shelburne. It is thesetwo then that it remains for me to examine. Lord Shelburne had themisfortune of coming very early upon the public stage. At that time heconnected himself with the earl of Bute, and entered with warmth intothe opposition to Mr. Secretary Pitt. In this system of conduct, however, he did not long persist; he speedily broke with the favourite, and soon after joined the celebrated hero, that had lately been theobject of his attack. By this person he was introduced to a considerablepost in administration. In office, he is chiefly remembered by the verydecisive stile of authority and censure he employed, in a public letter, relative to the resistance that was made to the act of 1767, forimposing certain duties in America. From his resignation with lordChatham, he uniformly and strenuously opposed the measures that wereadopted for crushing that resistance. He persevered, with much apparentconstancy, in one line of conduct for near ten years, and this iscertainly the most plausible period of his story. He first called forththe suspicions of generous and liberal men in every rank of society, byhis resolute opposition to the American independency in 1778. But it wasin the administration, that seemed to have been formed under sofavourable auspices in the spring of 1782, that he came most forward togeneral examination. 

The Rockingham connexion, in conformity to what were then supposed to bethe wishes of the people, united, though not without some hesitation, with the noble earl and his adherents, in the conduct of public affairs. And how did he reward their confidence? He was careful to retain thequestion respecting his real sentiments upon the business of America, inas much obscurity as ever. He wrote officially a letter to sir GuyCarleton, which has never seen the light, by which that officer wasinduced to declare the American independency already irreversiblyrecognised by the court of London; by which he appears to have deceivedall his brother ministers without exception; and by which Mr. Fox inparticular, was induced to make the same declaration with generalCarleton to foreign courts, and to come forward in the commonsperemptorily to affirm, that there was not a second opinion in thecabinet, upon this interesting subject. How must a man of hisundisguised and manly character have felt, when, within a week from thistime, he found the noble earl declaring that nothing had ever beenfurther from his thoughts, than an unconditional recognition; andsuccessfully exerting himself to bring over a majority in the cabinet tothe opposite sentiment? Lord Shelburne's obtaining, or accepting, callit which you will, of the office of first lord of the treasury, upon thedemise of lord Rockingham, without the privity of his fellow Ministers, was contrary to every maxim of ingenuous conduct, and every principleupon which an association of parties can be supported. The declarationhe made, and which was contradicted both by his own friends in thecabinet, and those of Mr. Fox, that he knew of no reason _in God'searth_ for that gentleman's resignation, but that of his havingsucceeded to the office of premier, was surely sufficiently singular. 

But he is celebrated for being a man of large professions, and by theseprofessions he has induced some persons in different classes in society, to esteem him the friend of liberty and renovation. What he has heldout, however, upon these heads, has not been entirely confident. He hasappeared the enthusiastical partizan of the aristocracy, a kind ofgovernment, which, carried to its height, is perhaps, of all thedifferent species of despotism, the most intolerable. He has talked in avery particular stile of his fears of reducing the regal power to ashadow, of his desire that the extension of prerogative should keep pacewith the confirmation of popular rights, and his resolution, that, if itwere in his power to prevent it, a king of England should never bebrought to a level with a king of Mahrattas. The true sons of freedomwill not certainly be very apprehensive upon this score, and will leaveit to the numbers that will ever remain the adherents of monarchicalpower, to guard the barriers of the throne. In opposition, hisdeclarations in favour of parliamentary reform seemed indeed verydecisive. In administration, he was particularly careful to explain awaythese declarations, and to assure the people that he would never employany influence in support of the measure, but would only countenance itso far as it appeared to be the sense of parliament. In other words, that he would remain neutral, or at most only honour the subject with aneloquent harangue, and interest himself no further respecting it. 

But let us proceed from his language to his conduct in office. Almostevery salutary measure of administration, from the resignation of lordNorth downward, was brought about during the union of the noble earlwith the Rockingham connexion. What inference are we to draw fromthis?--That administration, as auspicious as it was transitory, hasnever been charged with more than one error. They were thought tooliberal in the distribution of two or three sinecures and pensions. Towhom were they distributed? Uniformly, exclusively, to the friends oflord Shelburne. Lord Shelburne proposed them to his august colleague, and the marquis, whose faults, if he had any, were an excess ofmildness, and an unsuspecting simplicity, perhaps too readily complied. But let it be remembered, that not one of his friends accepted, or tonot one of his friends were these emoluments extended. But, if the noblemarquis were sparing in the distribution of pensions, the deficiency wasabundantly supplied by his successor. While the interests of the peoplewere neglected and forgotten, the attention of the premier was in aconsiderable degree engrossed by the petty arrangements of office. Forone man a certain department of business was marked out; the place hadbeen previously filled by another. Here the first person was at allevents to be promoted; and the second gratified with a pension. Thus, inthe minute detail of employment, in adjusting the indeclinables of acourt calendar, to detach a _commis_ from this department, and to fix aclerk in that, burthen after burthen has been heaped upon the shouldersof a callous and lethargic people. --But no man can say, that the earl ofShelburne has been idle. Beside all this, he has restored peace to hiscountry. His merits in this business, have already been sufficientlyagitated. To examine them afresh would lead me too far from the scope ofmy subject. I will not therefore now detain myself either to exculpateor criminate the minister, to whom, whatever they are, they areprincipally to be ascribed. 

From the considerations already suggested, I am afraid thus much may befairly inferred, that the earl of Shelburne is a man, dark, insidiousand inexplicit in his designs; no decided friend of the privileges ofthe people; and in both respects a person very improper to conduct theaffairs of this country. I would hope however, that the celebratedcharacter given of him by the late lord Holland was somewhat too severe. "I have met with many, who by perseverance and labour have madethemselves Jesuits; it is peculiar to this man to have been born one. "

Such then is the estimate we are compelled to form of a man who in hisprofessions has sometimes gone as far, as the most zealous votaries ofliberty. And what is the inference we shall draw from this? Shall we, for the sake of one man so specious and plausible, learn to think thelanguage of all men equally empty and deceitful? Having once beenbetrayed, shall we avoid all future risk, by treating every pretender topatriotism and public spirit, as a knave and an impostor? This indeed isa conclusion to which the unprincipled and the vicious are everpropense. They judge of their fellows by themselves, and from thedepravity of their own hearts are willing to infer, that every honestyhas its price. But the very motive that inclines the depraved to such amode of reasoning, must, upon the very same account, deter the man ofvirtue from adopting it. Virtue is originally ever simple andunsuspecting. Conscious to its own rectitude, and the integrity of itsprofessions, it naturally expects the same species of conduct fromothers. By every disappointment of this kind, it is mortified andhumbled. Long, very long must it have been baffled, and countless musthave been its mortifications, ere it can be induced to adopt a principleof general mistrust. And that such a principle should have so large aspread among persons, whose honesty, candour forbids us to suspect, issurely, of all the paradoxe upon the face of the earth, incomparably thegreatest. --The man of virtue then will be willing, before he gives upall our political connexions without distinction, to go along with me tothe review of the only one that yet remains to be examined, that of thelate marquis of Rockingham. 

Too much perhaps cannot be said in their praise. They have nearlyengrossed the confidence of every friend of liberty. They are the onlymen, whose principles were never darkened with the cloud of suspicion. What, let me ask, has been their uniform conduct during the whole courseof the reign? They have been ever steady in their opposition, towhatever bore an ill aspect to the cause of freedom, and to the wholetrain of those political measures, that have terminated in calamity andruin. They have been twice in administration. Prosperity and power areusually circumstances that prove the severest virtue. While in power howthen did this party conduct themselves?

Of their first administration the principal measure was the stamp act. Alaw that restored tranquility to a distracted empire. A law, to which, if succeeding administrations had universally adhered, we had been atthis moment, the exclusive allies and patrons of the whole continent ofNorth America. A law, that they carried in opposition to the all-dreadedMr. Pitt, on the one hand, and on the other, against the inclination ofthose secret directors, from whose hands they receive their delegatedpower. They repealed the excise upon cyder. They abolished generalwarrants. And after having been the authors of these and a thousandother benefits in the midst of storms and danger; they quitted theirplaces with a disinterestedness, that no other set of men have imitated. They secured neither place, pension, nor reversion to themselves, or anyof their adherents. 

Their second administration was indeed very short. But it was crowdedwith the most salutary measures. The granting a full relief to Ireland. The passing several most important bills of oeconomy and reformation. The passing the contractors bill. The carrying into effect that mostvaluable measure, the abolishing the vote of custom-house officers inthe election of members of parliament. And lastly, the attempt toatchieve, that most important of all objects, the establishment of anequal representation. What might not have been expected from theirlonger continuance in office?

But I will not confine myself to the consideration of their conduct as abody. The characters of the individuals of which they are composed, willstill further illustrate their true principles, and furnish a strongadditional recommendation of them, to every friend of virtue and ofliberty. That I may not overcharge this part of my subject, I will onlymention two or three of their most distinguished leaders. 

The character of the present chancellor of the exchequer is entirely an_unique_. Though mixing in all the busy scenes of life, though occupyingfor many years a principal place in the political affairs of thiscountry, he has _kept himself unspotted from the world_. --The word ofthe elder Cato was esteemed so sacred with the Romans, that it became aproverb among them respecting things, so improbable, that their truthcould not be established even by the highest authority, "I would notbelieve it, though it were told me by Cato. " And in an age much moredissipated than that of Cato, the integrity and honour of the noble lordI have mentioned, has become equally proverbial. Not bonds, nor deeds, nor all the shackles of law, are half so much to be depended upon as ishis lightest word. He is deaf to all the prejudices of blood or privatefriendship, and has no feelings but for his country. 

Of the duke of Portland, I can say the less, as not having had anopportunity of knowing much respecting him. His candour and his honourhave never been questioned. And I remember, in the debate upon thecelebrated secession of the Rockingham party, upon the death of theirleader, to have heard his abilities particularly vouched in very strongterms, by Mr. Chancellor Pitt, and the present lord Sidney. The latterin particular, though one of my lord Shelburne's secretaries of state, fairly avowed in so many words, that he should have been bettersatisfied with the appointment of his grace, to the office he now holds, than he was, with the noble lord, under whom he acted. 

The character of lord Keppel, with persons not attached to any party, has usually been that of a man of much honesty and simplicity, withoutany remarkable abilities. It is a little extraordinary however, that, though forced by a combination of unfavourable circumstances into apublic speaker, he is yet, even in that line, very far from contempt. His speeches are manly, regular, and to the purpose. His defence uponhis trial at Portsmouth, in which he must naturally be supposed to havehad at least a principal share, has, in my opinion, much beauty ofcomposition. The adversaries of this party, though unwilling to admitthat the navy was so much improved under his auspices as was asserted, have yet, I believe, universally acknowledged his particular activityand diligence. 

But I come to the great beast of his own party, and the principal objectof attack to their enemies, the celebrated Mr. Fox. Men of formality andsanctity have complained of him as dissipated. They do not pretendhowever to aggravate their accusation, by laying to his charge any ofthe greater vices. His contempt of money, and his unbounded generosity, are universally confessed. Let such then know, that dissipation, soqualified, is a very slight accusation against a public man, if indeedit deserves a serious consideration. In all expansive minds, in mindsformed for an extensive stage, to embrace the welfare and the interestof nations, there is a certain incessant activity, a principle that mustbe employed. Debar them from their proper field, and it will mostinevitably run out into excesses, which perhaps had better have beenavoided. But do these excrescences, which only proceed from the richnessand fertility of the soil, disqualify a man for public business? Far, very far from it. Where ever was there a man, who pushed dissipation anddebauchery to a greater length, than my lord Bolingbroke? And yet it isperhaps difficult to say, whether there ever existed a more industrious, or an abler minister. The peace of Utrecht, concluded amidst a thousanddifficulties, from our allies abroad, and our parties, that were neverso much exasperated against each other at home; must ever remain themonument of his glory. His opposition to sir Robert Walpole seemsevidently to have been founded upon the most generous principles. Andthough the warmth and ebullition of his passions evermore broke in uponhis happiest attempts, yet were his exertions in both instances attendedwith the most salutary consequences. But Mr. Fox appears to me topossess all the excellencies, without any of the defects of lordBolingbroke. His passions have, I believe, never been suspected ofhaving embroiled the affairs of his party, and he has uniformly retainedthe confidence of them all. His friendships have been solid andunshaken. His conduct cool and intrepid. The littleness of jealousynever discoloured a conception of his heart. In office he was moreconstant and indefatigable, than lord Bolingbroke himself. All hislesser pursuits seemed annihilated, and he was swallowed up in thedirection of public affairs. 

He has been accused of ambition. Ambition is a very ambiguous term. Inits lowest sense, it sinks the meanest, and degrades the dirtiest of ourrace. In its highest, I cannot agree with those who stile it the defectof noble minds. I esteem it worthy of the loudest commendation, and themost assiduous culture. Mr. Fox's is certainly not an ambition ofemolument. Nobody dreams it. It is not an ambition, that can begratified by the distribution of places and pensions. This is a passion, that can only dwell in the weakest and most imbecil minds. Its necessaryconcomitants, are official inattention and oscitancy. No. The ambitionof this hero is a generous thirst of fame, and a desire of possessingthe opportunity of conferring the most lasting benefits upon hiscountry. It is an instinct, that carries a man forward into the field offitness, and of God. 

The vulgar, incapable of comprehending these exalted passions, are aptupon the slightest occasions to suspect, that this heroical language isonly held out to them for a lure, and that the most illustriouscharacters among us are really governed by passions, equally incident tothe meanest of mankind. Let such examine the features and the mannersof Mr. Fox. Was that man made for a Jesuit? Is he capable of the dirty, laborious, insidious tricks of a hypocrite? Is there not a certainmanliness about him, that disdains to mislead? Are not candour andsincerity, bluntness of manner, and an unstudied air, conspicuous in allhe does?--I know not how far the argument may go with others, with me, Iconfess, it has much weight. I believe a man of sterling genius, incapable of the littlenesses and meannesses, incident to the vulgarcourtier. What are the principal characteristics of genius? Are they notlarge views, infinite conceptions, a certain manliness and intrepidityof thinking? But all real and serious vice originates in selfish views, narrow conceptions, and intellectual cowardice. A man of genius maypossibly be thoughtless, dissipated and unstudied; but he cannot avoidbeing constant, generous, and sincere. The union of first rate abilitieswith malignity, avarice, and envy, seems to me very nearly as incrediblea phenomenon, as a mermaid, a unicorn, or a phoenix. 

I cannot overcome the propensity I feel to add Mr. Burke to thisillustrious catalogue, though the name of this gentleman leads me out ofthe circle of the cabinet. Mr. Burke raised himself from an obscuresituation, by the greatness of his abilities, and his unrivalled genius. Never was distinction more nobly earned. Of every species of literarycomposition he is equally a master. He excels alike in the most abstrusemetaphysical disquisition, and in the warmest and most spiritedpainting. His rhetoric is at once ornamented and sublime. His satire ispolished and severe. His wit is truly Attic. Luxuriant in the extreme, his allusions are always striking, and always happy. But to enumeratehis talents, is to tell but half his praise. The application he has madeof them is infinitely more to his honour. He has devoted himself for hiscountry. The driest and most laborious investigations have not deterredhim. Among a thousand other articles, that might be mentioned, hissystem of oeconomical reform must for ever stand forth, alike themonument of his abilities, and his patriotism. His personal character isof the most amiable kind. Humanity and benevolence are strongly paintedin his countenance. His transactions with lord Rockingham were in thehighest degree honourable to him. And the more they are investigated, and the better they are understood, the more disinterestedness ofvirtue, and generous singularity of thinking, will be found to have beenexhibited on both sides. 

It is necessary perhaps, that I should say a word respecting thearistocratical principles of this gentleman, by which he isdistinguished from the rest of his party. To these principles I professmyself an enemy. I am sorry they should be entertained by a person, forwhom, in every other respect, I feel the highest veneration. But theviews of that man must be truly narrow, who will give up the characterof another, the moment he differs from him in any of his principles. Iam sure Mr. Burke is perfectly sincere in his persuasion. And I hope Ihave long since learned not to question the integrity of any man, uponaccount of his tenets, whether in religion or politics, be they whatthey may. I rejoice however, that this gentleman has connected himselfwith a set of men, by the rectitude of whose views, I trust, the illtendency of any such involuntary error will be effectually counteracted. In the mean time this deviation of Mr. Burke from the general principlesof his connexion, has given occasion to some to impute aristocraticalviews to the whole party. The best answer to this, is, that theparliamentary reform was expressly stipulated by lord Rockingham, in hiscoalition with the earl of Shelburne, as one of the principles, uponwhich the Administration of March, 1782, was formed. 

From what has been said, I consider my first proposition as completelyestablished, that the Rockingham party was the only connexion of men, bywhich the country could be well served. 

I would however just observe one thing by the way. I forsee that myfirst proposition lies open to a superficial and childish kind ofridicule. But in order to its operation, it is not necessary to say, that the friends of lord Rockingham were persuaded, that the countrycould not be well served, but by themselves. In reality, this is theproper and philosophical state of it: that each individual of thatconnexion was persuaded, that the country could not be well served butby his friends. And I trust, it has now appeared, that this was a justand rational persuasion. 

The next argument adduced in conformation of my thesis, is, that theywere not by themselves of sufficient strength, to support the weight ofadministration. It is certainly a melancholy consideration, that thereshould not be virtue enough left in a people to support anadministration of honest views and uniform principles, against all thecabals of faction. This however, is incontrovertibly the case withBritain. The bulk of her inhabitants are become, in a very high degree, inattentive, and indifferent to the conduct of her political affairs. This has been, at one time, ascribed to their despair of thecommonwealth, and their mortification in perceiving a certain course ofmal-administration persisted in, in defiance of the known sense of thecountry. At another time, it has been imputed to their experience of thehollowness of all our public pretenders to patriotism. I am afraid, thecause is to be sought in something, more uniform in it's operation, andless honourable to the lower ranks of society, than either of these. Ina word, luxury and dissipation have every where loosened the bands ofpolitical union. The interest of the public has been forgotten by allmen; and we have been taught to laugh at the principles, by which thepatriots of former ages were induced, to sacrifice their fortunes andtheir lives for the welfare of their citizens. Provided the cup ofenjoyment be not dashed from our own lips, and the pillow of sloth tornaway from our own heads, we do not ask, what shall be the fate of ourliberties, our posterity, and our country. Disinterested affection seemsto have taken up her last refuge in a few choice spirits, and elevatedminds, who appear among us, like the inhabitants of another world. Inthe mean time, while the lower people have been _careful for none ofthese things_, they have been almost constantly decided in the senate, not by a view to their intrinsic merits, but in conformity to thejarring interests, and the inexplicable cabals of faction. In such asituation, alas! what can unprotected virtue do? Destitute of all thatcomeliness that allures; stripped of that influence that gives weightand consideration; and unskilled in the acts of intrigue?

In conformity to these ideas, when the choice of an administration wasonce again thrown back upon the people, in March, 1782, we perceive, that no one party found themselves sufficiently strong for the supportof government; and a coalition became necessary between the Rockinghamconnexion, and a person they never cordially approved, the earl ofShelburne. Even thus supported, and called to the helm, with perhaps asmuch popularity, as any administration ever enjoyed, they did not carrytheir measure in parliament without difficulty. The inconsiderate andinterested did even think proper to ridicule their imbecility;particularly in the house of lords. The most unsuspected of all ourpatriots, Mr. Burke, was reduced to the necessity of so far contractinghis system of reform upon this account, as to have afforded a handle tosuperficial raillery and abuse. 

But turn we to the administration that succeeded them; who stillretained some pretensions to public spirit; and among whom thereremained several individuals, whose claim to political integrity wasindisputably. Weaker than the ministry of lord Rockingham, to whatshifts were they not reduced to preserve their precarious power? Theseare the men, who have been loudest in their censures of the latecoalition. And yet did not they form coalitions, equally extraordinarywith that which is now under consideration? To omit the noble lord whopresided at the treasury board, and to confine myself to thoseinstances, which Mr. Fox had occasion to mention in treating my subject. Was there not the late chancellor of the exchequer, who has beenseverest in his censures of lord North, and the lord advocate ofScotland, who was his principal supporter, and was for pushing theAmerican measures, even to greater lengths, than the noble patronhimself? Was there not the master general of the ordnance, who has evergone farthest in his view of political reform, and declaimed most warmlyagainst secret influence; and the lord chancellor, the most determinedenemy of reform, and who has been supposed the principal vehicle of thatinfluence? Lastly, was there not, in the same manner, the secretary ofstate for the home department, who was most unwearied in his invectivesagainst lord Bute; and the right honourable Mr. Jenkinson, who has beenconsidered by the believers in the invisible power of that nobleman, asthe chief instrument of his designs. 

With these examples of the necessity of powerful support and extensivecombination, what mode of conduct was it, that it was most natural, mostvirtuous, and most wise, for the Rockingham connexion to adopt? Iconfess, I can perceive none more obvious, or more just, than that whichthey actually adopted, a junction with the noble commoner in the blueribbon. At least, from what has been said, I trust, thus much is evidentbeyond control, that they had just reason to consider themselvesabstractedly, as too weak for the support of government. 

Still further to strengthen my argument, I affirm, in the third place, that they were not the men, whose services were likely to be called forby the Sovereign. I believe, that this proposition will not be thoughtto stand in need of any very abstruse train of reasoning to support it. The late events respecting it have been, instead of a thousandarguments. From an apprehension, probably, of the uncourtierliness oftheir temper, and their inflexible attachment to a system; it seems toappear by those events, that the sovereign had contracted a sort ofbackwardness to admit them into his councils, which it is to be hoped, was only temporary. It was however such, as, without any other apparentcause to cooperate with it, alone sufficed to delay the forming anadministration for six weeks, in a most delicate and critical juncture. Even the union of that noble person, who had been considered as hismajesty's favourite minister, did not appear to be enough to subdue theaverseness. However then we may hope, that untainted virtue and superiorabilities, when more intimately known, may be found calculated tosurmount prejudices and conciliate affection; it seems but too evident, that in the critical moment, those men, by whom alone we haveendeavoured to prove, that the country could be well served, would notvoluntarily have been thought on. 

But it does not seem to have been enough considered, at what time thecoalition was made. The Rockingham connexion, along with thousands oftheir fellow citizens, who were unconnected with any party, wereinduced, from the purest views, to disapprove of the late treaty ofpeace. The voting with the friends of lord North upon that question, wasa matter purely incidental. By that vote however, in which a majority ofthe commons house of parliament was included, the administration of lordShelburne was dissolved. It was not till after the dissolution wasreally effected, that the coalition took place. In this situationsomething was necessary to be done. The nation was actually without aministry. It was a crisis that did not admit of hesitation and delay. The country must, if a system of delay had been adopted, haveimmediately been thrown back into the hands of those men, from whom ithad been so laboriously forced scarce twelve months before; or it musthave been committed to the conduct of persons even less propitious tothe cause of liberty, and the privileges of the people. A situation, like this, called for a firm and manly conduct. It was no longer a timeto stoop to the yoke of prejudice. It was a time, to burst forth intountrodden paths; to lose sight of the hesitating and timid; andgenerously to adventure upon a step, that should rather have in viewsubstantial service, than momentary applause; and should appeal from theshort-sighted decision of systematic prudence, to the tribunal of facts, and the judgment of posterity. 

But why did I talk of the tribunal of facts? Events are not within thedisposition of human power. "'Tis not in mortals to command success. "And the characters of wisdom and virtue, are therefore very properlyconsidered by all men, who pretend to sober reflection, as independentof it. If then, as I firmly believe, the coalition was founded in thewisest and most generous views, the man, that values himself upon hisrational nature, will not wait for the event. He will immediately andperemptorily decide in its favour. Though it should be annihilatedto-morrow; though it had been originally frustrated in its views, respecting the continuation of a ministry; he would not hesitate topronounce, that it was formed in the most expansive and long-sightedpolicy, in the noblest and most prudent daring, in the warmestgenerosity, and the truest patriotism. 

But it will be said, a coalition of parties may indeed be allowed to bein many cases proper and wise; but a coalition between parties who havelong treated each other with the extremest rancour, appears a species ofconduct, abhorrent to the unadulterated judgment, and all the nativeprepossessions of mankind. It plucks away the very root of unsuspectingconfidence, and can be productive of nothing, but anarchy and confusion. 

In answer to this argument, I will not cite the happy effects of thecoalition between parties just as opposite, by which Mr. Pitt wasintroduced into office in the close of a former reign. Still less will Icite the coalition of the earl of Shelburne, with several leaders of theBedford connexion, and others, whose principles were at least asinimical to the popular cause, and the parliamentary reform, as those ofLord North; and the known readiness of him and his friends to haveformed a junction with the whole of that connexion. I need not even hintat the probability there exists, that the noble lord then inadministration, would have been happy to have formed the very coalitionhimself, which he is willing we should so much reprobate in another. Ineed not mention the suspicions, that naturally suggested themselvesupon the invincible silence of his party, respecting themal-administration of lord North, for so long a time; and their bringingforward the singular charge of fifty unaccounted millions at the verymoment that the coalition was completed. I should be sorry to have itsupposed, that the connexion I am defending, ever took an example fromthe late premier, for one article of their conduct. And I think the modeof vindicating them, not from temporary examples, but from eternalreason, as it is in itself most striking and most honourable, so is itnot a whit less easy and obvious. 

Let it be remembered then, in the first place, that there was no otherconnexion, sufficiently unquestionable in their sincerity, and ofsufficient weight in the senate, with which to form a coalition. TheBedford party, had they even been willing to have taken this step inconjunction with the friends of lord Rockingham, were already strippedof some of their principal and ablest members, by the arts of lordShelburne. Whether these ought to be considered in sound reason, as moreor less obnoxious than lord North, I will not take upon me to determine. Certain I am, that the Scottish connexion were, of all others, the mostsuspicious in themselves, and the most odious to the people. The onlychoice then that remained, was that which was made. The only subject fordeliberation, was, whether this choice were more or less laudable than, on the other hand, the deserting entirely the interests of theircountry, and leaving the vessel of the state to the mercy of the winds. 

Secondly, I would observe that the principal ground of dispute betweenlord North and his present colleagues in administration, was done awayby the termination of the American war. An impeachment of the noble lordfor his past errors was perfectly out of the question. No one was madenough to expect it. A vein of public spirit, diffusing itself among allranks of society, is the indispensible concomitant of impeachments andattainder. And such a temper, I apprehend, will not be suspected to becharacteristic of the age in which we live. But were it otherwise, theRockingham connexion certainly never stood in the way of an impeachment, had it been meditated. And, exclusive of this question, I know of noobjection, that applies particular to the noble lord, incontradistinction to any of the other parties into which we are divided. 

But, in the third place, the terms upon which the coalition was made, form a most important article of consideration in estimating its merits. They are generally understood to have been these two; that theRockingham connexion should at all times have a majority in the cabinet;and that lord North should be removed to that "hospital of incurables, "as lord Chesterfield has stiled it, the house of lords. Surely thesearticles are the happiest that could have been conceived for preservingthe power of administration, as much as may be, with the friends of thepeople. Places, merely of emolument and magnificence, must be bestowedsomewhere. Where then can they be more properly lodged, than in thehands of those who are best able to support a liberal and virtuousadministration?

I beg leave to add once more, in the fourth place, that, whatever thedemerits of lord North as a minister may be supposed to have been, he isperhaps, in a thousand other respects, the fittest man in the world tooccupy the second place in a junction of this sort. The union of theRockingham connexion with the earl of Shelburne last year, was, I willadmit, less calculated to excite popular astonishment, and populardisapprobation, than the present. In the eye of cool reason and soberforesight, I am apt to believe, it was much less wise and commendable. Lord Shelburne, though he has been able to win over the good opinion ofseveral, under the notion of his being a friend of liberty, is really, in many respects, stiffly aristocratical, or highly monarchical. LordShelburne is a man of insatiable ambition, and who pursues the ends ofthat ambition by ways the most complex and insidious. The creed of lordNorth, whatever it may be, upon general political questions, isconsistent and intelligible. For my own part, I do not believe him to beambitious. It is not possible, with his indolent and easy temper, thathe should be very susceptible to so restless a passion. In the heroicalsense of that word, he sits loose to fame. He is undoubtedly desirous, by all the methods that appear to him honourable and just, to enrich andelevate his family. He wishes to have it in his power to oblige and toserve his friends. But I am exceedingly mistaken, if he entered into thepresent alliance from views of authority and power. Upon the conditionsI have mentioned, it was a scheme, congenial only to a man of a dark andplotting temper. But the temper of lord North is in the highest degreecandid, open and undisguised. Easy at home upon every occasion, there isnot a circle in the world to which his presence would not be anaddition. It is calculated to inspire unconstraint and confidence intoevery breast. Simple and amiable is the just description of hischaracter in every domestic relation; constant and unreserved in hisconnexions of friendship. The very versatility and pliableness, soloudly condemned in his former situation, is now an additionalrecommendation. Is this the man, for whose intrigues and conspiracieswe are bid to tremble?

Another charge that has been urged against the coalition, is, that itwas a step that dictated to the sovereign, and excluded all, but oneparticular set of men, from the national councils. The first part ofthis charge is somewhat delicate in its nature. I shall only sayrespecting it, that, if, as we have endeavoured to prove, there were butone connexion, by which the business of administration could be happilydischarged, the friend of liberty, rejoicing in the auspicious event, will not be very inquisitive in respect to the etiquette, with whichthey were introduced into the government. In the mean time, far fromintending an exclusion, they declared publicly, that they would be happyto receive into their body any man of known integrity and abilities, from whatever party he came. The declaration has never beencontradicted. --Strangers to the remotest idea of proscription, theyerected a fortress, where every virtue, and every excellence might finda place. 

The only remaining objection to the coalition that I know of, that itshocks established opinions, is not, I think, in itself, calculated tohave much weight, and has, perhaps, been sufficiently animadverted upon, as we went along, in what has been already said. The proper question is, was it a necessary step? Was there any other way, by which the countrycould be redeemed? If a satisfactory answer has been furnished to theseenquiries, the inevitable conclusion in my opinion is, that the more itmocked established opinions, and the more intellectual nerve itdemanded, the more merit did it possess, and the louder applause is itsdue. 

I am not inclined to believe, that a majority of my countrymen, uponreflection, have disapproved this measure. I am happy to perceive, thatso much of that good sense and manly thinking in public questions, thathas for ages been considered as the characteristic quality ofEnglishmen, is still left among us. There can be nothing more honourablethan this. --By it our commonalty, though unable indeed to forestal thehero and the man of genius in his schemes, do yet, if I may be allowedthe expression, tread upon his heels, and are prepared to follow him inall his views, and to glow with all his sentiments. 

Sensible however, that in the first blush of such a scheme, its enemiesmust necessarily find their advantage in entrenching themselves behindthose prejudices, that could not be eradicated in a moment, I waswilling to wait for the hour of calmness and deliberation. I resolvedcooly to let the first gush of prepossession blow over, and the springtide of censure exhaust itself. I believed, that such a cause demandedonly a fair and candid hearing. I have endeavoured to discharge my partin obtaining for it such a hearing. And I must leave the rest to myreaders. 

Among these there probably will be some, who, struck with the force ofthe arguments I have adduced on the one hand, and entangled in theirfavourite prejudices on the other, will remain in a kind of suspence;ashamed to retract their former opinions, but too honest to deny allweight and consideration to those I have defended. To these I have oneword to say, and with that one word I will conclude. I will suppose youto confess, that appearances, exclusive of the controverted step, are ina thousand instances favourable to the new ministers. They have made thestrongest professions, and the largest promises of attachment to thegeneral cause. To professions and promises I do not wish you to trust. Ishould blush to revive the odious and exploded maxim, not men, butmeasures. If you cannot place some confidence in the presentadministration, I advise you, as honest men, to do every thing in yourpower to drive them from the helm. But you will hardly deny, that alltheir former conduct has afforded reasons for confidence. You are readyto admit, that, in no instance, but one, have they committed theircharacters. In that one instance, they have much to say for themselves, and it appears, at least, very possible, that they may have been actedin it, by virtuous and generous principles, even though we shouldsuppose them mistaken. Remember then, that popularity and fame are thevery nutriment of virtue. A thirst for fame is not a weakness. It is"the noble mind's distinguishing perfection. " If then you would bindadministration by tenfold ties to the cause of liberty, do not withdrawfrom them your approbation till they have forfeited it, by betraying, inone plain and palpable instance, the principles upon which they haveformerly acted. I believe they need no new bonds, but are unchangeablyfixed in the generous system, with which they commenced. But thus muchis certain. If any thing can detach them from this glorious cause; ifany thing can cool their ardour for the common weal, there is nothingthat has half so great a tendency to effect this, as unmerited obloquyand disgrace. 

FINIS. 

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INSTRUCTIONS

TO A

STATESMAN. 

HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

GEORGE EARL TEMPLE. 

M. DCC. LXXXIV. 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE EARL TEMPLE. 

MY LORD, The following papers fell into my hands by one of those unaccountableaccidents, so frequent in human life, but which in the relation appearalmost incredible. I will not however trouble your lordship with thestory. If they be worthy of the press, it is of no great consequence tothe public how they found their way thither. If they afford yourlordship a moment's amusement, amidst the weightier cares incident toyour rank and fortune, I have obtained my end. 

I have endeavoured in vain to investigate who was their author, and towhom they were addressed. It should seem, from the internal evidence ofthe composition, that they were written by a person, who was originallyof a low rank or a menial station, but who was distinguished by his lordfor those abilities and talents, he imagined he discovered in him. Ihave learned, by a kind of vague tradition, upon which I can placelittle dependence, that the noble pupil was the owner of a magnificent_château_ not a hundred miles from your lordship's admired seat in thecounty of Buckingham. It is said that this nobleman, amidst a thousandcuriosities with which his gardens abounded, had the unaccountable whimof placing a kind of artificial hermit in one of its wildest and mostsolitary recesses. This hermit it seems was celebrated through the wholeneighbourhood, for his ingenuity in the carving of tobacco-stoppers, anda variety of other accomplishments. Some of the peasants even mistookhim for a conjuror. If I might be allowed in the conjectural licence ofan editor, I should be inclined to ascribe the following composition tothis celebrated and ingenious solitaire. 

Since however this valuable tract remains without an owner, I thought itcould not be so properly addressed to any man as your lordship. I wouldnot however be misunderstood. I do not imagine that the claim thisperformance has upon the public attention, consists in the value andexcellence of it's precepts. On the contrary, I consider it as thedarkest and most tremendous scheme for the establishment of despotismthat ever was contrived. If the public enter into my sentiments upon thesubject, they will consider it as effectually superseding Machiavel'scelebrated treatise of The Prince, and exhibiting a more deep-laid anddesperate system of tyranny. For my part, I esteem these great anddestructive vices of so odious a nature, that they need only be exposedto the general view in order to the being scouted by all. And if, whichindeed I cannot possibly believe, there has been any noble lord in thiskingdom mean enough to have studied under such a preceptor, I wouldwillingly shame him out of his principles, and hold up to him a glass, which shall convince him how worthy he is of universal contempt andabhorrence. 

The true reason, my lord, for which I have presumed to prefix your nameto these sheets is, that the contrast between the precepts they contain, and the ingenuous and manly character that is universally attributed toyour lordship, may place them more strongly in the light they deserve. And yet I doubt not there will be some readers perverse enough toimagine that you are the true object of the composition. They will findout some of those ingenious coincidences, by which The Rape of the Lock, was converted into a political poem, and the _Telemaque_ of the amiableFenelon into a satire against the government under which he lived. Imight easily appeal, against these treacherous commentators, to theknowledge of all men reflecting every corner of your lordship's gardensat Stowe. I might boldly defy any man to say, that they now contain, orever did contain, one of these artificial hermits. But I will take upyour lordship's defence upon a broader footing. I will demonstrate howcontrary the character of your ancestors and your own have always beento the spirit and temper here inculcated. If this runs me a little intothe beaten style of dedication, even the modesty of your lordship willexcuse me, when I have so valuable a reason for adopting it. 

I shall confine myself, my lord, in the few thoughts I mean to suggestupon this head, to your two more immediate ancestors, men distinguishedabove the common rate, by their virtues or their abilities. Richard earlTemple, your lordship's immediate predecessor, as the representative ofyour illustrious house, will be long remembered by posterity under thevery respectable title of the friend of the earl of Chatham. But thoughhis friend, my lord, we well know that he did not implicitly follow thesentiments of a man, who was assuredly the first star in the politicalhemisphere, and whose talents would have excused, if any thing couldhave excused, an unsuspecting credulity. The character of lord Chathamwas never, but in one instance, tarnished. He did not sufficiently dreadthe omnipotence of the favourite. He fondly imagined that before acharacter so brilliant, and success so imposing as his had been, nolittle system of favouritism could keep its ground. Twice, my lord, hewas upon the brink of the precipice, and once he fell. When he trembledon the verge, who was it that held him back? It was Richard earl Temple. Twice he came, like his guardian angel, and snatched him from his fate. Lord Chatham indeed was formed to champ the bit, and spurn indignant atevery restraint. He knew the superiority of his abilities, herecollected that he had twice submitted to the honest counsels of hisfriend, and he disdained to listen any longer to a coolness, thatassimilated but ill to the adventurousness of his spirit; and to ahesitation, that wore in his apprehension the guise of timidity. Whatthen did Richard earl Temple do? There he fixed his standard, and therehe pitched his tent. Not a step farther would he follow a leader, whomto follow had been the boast of his life. He erected a fortress thatmight one day prove the safeguard of his misguided and unsuspectingfriend. 

And yet, my lord, the character of Richard earl Temple, was not that ofcauseless suspicion. He proved himself, in a thousand instances, honest, trusting, and sincere. He was not, like some men, that you and I know, dark, dispassionate, and impenetrable. On the contrary, no man mistookhim, no man ever charged him with a double conduct or a wrinkled heart. His countenance was open, and his spirit was clear. He was a man ofpassions, my lord. He acted in every momentous concern, more from thedictates of his heart, than his head. But this is the key to hisconduct; He kept a watchful eye upon that bane of every patriotminister, _secret influence_. If there were one feature in his politicalhistory more conspicuous than the rest, if I were called to point outthe line of discrimination between his character and that of hiscontemporaries upon the public stage, it would be the _hatred of secretinfluence_. 

Such, my lord, was one of your immediate ancestors, whose name, to thisday, every honest Briton repeats with veneration. I will turn to anotherperson, still more nearly related to you, and who will make an equalfigure in the history of the age in which he lived, Mr. GeorgeGrenville. His character has been represented to us by a writer of nomean discernment, as that of "shrewd and inflexible. " He was a man ofindefatigable industry and application. He possessed a soundunderstanding, and he trusted it. This is a respectable description. Integrity and independency, however mistaken, are entitled to praise. What was it, my lord, that he considered as the ruin of his reputation?What was it, that defeated all the views of an honest ambition, anddeprived his country of the services, which his abilities, under properdirection, were qualified to render it? My lord, it was _secretinfluence_. It was in vain for ministers to be able to construct theirplans with the highest wisdom, and the most unwearied diligence; it wasin vain that they came forward like men, and risqued their places, theircharacters, their all, upon measures, however arduous, that they thoughtnecessary for the salvation of their country. They were defeated, bywhat, my lord? By abilities greater than their own? By a penetrationthat discovered blots in their wisest measures? By an opposition boldand adventurous as themselves? No: but, by the _lords of thebedchamber_; by a "band of Janissaries who surrounded the person of theprince, and were ready to strangle the minister upon the nod of amoment. "

With these illustrious examples ever rushing upon your memory, no mancan doubt that your lordship has inherited that detestation of_influence_ by which your ancestors were so honourably distinguished. Mylord, having considered the high expectations, which the virtues of yourimmediate progenitors had taught us to form upon the heir of them both, we will recollect for a moment the promises that your first outset inlife had made to your country. 

One of your lordship's first actions upon record, consists in the highprofessions you made at the county meeting of Buckingham, in thatever-venerable aera of oeconomy and reform, the spring of 1780. My lord, there are certain offices of sinecure, not dependent upon the caprice ofa minister, which this country has reserved to reward those illustriousstatesmen, who have spent their lives, and worn out their constitutionsin her service. No man will wonder, when he recollects from whom yourlordship has the honour to be descended, that one of these offices is inyour possession. This, my lord, was the subject of your generous anddisinterested professions. You told your countrymen, that with thisoffice you were ready to part. If a reformation so extensive werethought necessary, you were determined, not merely to be no obstacle tothe design, but to be a volunteer in the service. You came forward inthe eye of the world, with your patent in your hand. You were ready tosacrifice that parchment, the precious instrument of personal wealth andprivate benevolence, at the shrine of patriotism. 

Here then, my lord, you stood pledged to your country. What were we notto expect from the first patriot of modern story? Your lordship willreadily imagine that our expectations were boundless and indefinite. "Glorious and immortal man!" we cried, "go on in this untrodden path. Wewill no longer look with drooping and cheerless anxiety upon themisfortunes of Britain, we have a resource for them all. The patriot ofStowe is capable of every thing. He does not resemble the vulgar herd ofmortals, he does not form his conduct upon precedent, nor defend it byexample. Virtue of the first impression was never yet separated fromgenius. We will trust then in the expedients of his inexhaustible mind. We will look up to him as our assured deliverer. --We are well acquaintedwith the wealth of the proprietor of Stowe. Thanks, eternal thanks toheaven, who has bestowed it with so liberal a hand! We consider it as adeposit for the public good. We count his acres, and we calculate hisincome, for we know that it is, in the best sense of the word, our own. "

My lord, these are the prejudices, which Englishmen have formed in yourfavour. They cannot refuse to trust a man, descended from so illustriousprogenitors. They cannot suspect any thing dark and dishonourable in thegenerous donor of 2700_l_. A year. Let then the commentators againstwhom I am providing, abjure the name of Briton, or let them pay theveneration that is due to a character, in every view of the subject, soexalted as that of your lordship. 

I have the honour to be, MY LORD, with the most unfeigned respect, your lordship's

most obedient, most devoted servant. 

INSTRUCTIONS

TO A

STATESMAN. 

MY LORD, I have long considered as the greatest happiness of my life, the havingso promising a pupil as your lordship. Though your abilities arecertainly of the very first impression, they are not however of thatvague and indefinite species, which we often meet with in persons, who, if providence had so pleased, would have figured with equal adroitnessin the character of a shoe-black or a link-boy, as they now flatterthemselves they can do in that of a minister of state. You, my lord, were born with that accomplishment of secrecy and retentiveness, whichthe archbishop of Cambray represents Telemachus as having possessed inso high a degree in consequence of the mode of his education. You werealways distinguished by that art, never to be sufficiently valued, oftalking much and saying nothing. I cannot recollect, and yet my memoryis as great, as my opportunity for observation has been considerable, that your lordship, when a boy, ever betrayed a single fact that chancedto fall within your notice, unless indeed it had some tendency toprocure a school-fellow a whipping. I have often remarked your lordshipwith admiration, talking big and blustering loud, so as to frightenurchins who were about half your lordship's size, when you had noprecise meaning in any thing you said. And I shall never forget, thelongest day I have to live, when I hugged you in my arms in a kind ofprophetic transport, in consequence of your whispering me, in the midstof a room-full of company, in so sly a manner that nobody could observeyou, that you had just seen John the coachman bestow upon Betty thecook-maid, a most devout and cordial embrace. From your rawest infancyyou were as much distinguished, as Milton represents the goddess Hebe tohave been, by "nods and becks and wreathed smiles;" with thisdifference, that in her they were marks of gaiety, and in you ofdemureness; that in her they were unrestrained and general, and in youintended only for a single _confidant_. My lord, reflecting upon allthese circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that I treated yourlordship even in clouts with the reverence due to an infant Jove, andalways considered myself as superintending the institution of the firststatesman that ever existed. 

But, my lord, it has ever been my opinion, that let nature do as much asshe will, it is in the power of education to do still more. The manystatesmanlike qualities that you brought into the world with you, sufficiently prove, that no man was ever more deeply indebted to thebounty of nature than your lordship. And yet of all those qualities shehas bestowed upon you, there is not one that I hold in half so muchesteem, as that docility, which has ever induced you to receive myinstructions with implicit veneration. It is true, my coat is fustian, and my whole accoutrement plebeian. My shoes are clouted, and it is longsince the wig that defends this penetrating brain, could boast a crookedhair. But you, my lord, have been able to discover the fruit through thethick and uncomely coat by which it was concealed; you have cracked thenut and have a right to the kernel. 

My lord, I thought it necessary to premise these observations, before Ientered upon those important matters of disquisition, which will formthe object of my present epistle. It is unnecessary for me to inform aperson of so much discernment as your lordship, that education is, byits very nature, a thing of temporary duration. Your lordship'seducation has been long, and there have been cogent reasons why itshould be so. God grant, that when left to walk the world alone, you benot betrayed into any of those unlucky blunders, from the very verge ofwhich my provident hand has often redeemed your lordship! Do not mistakeme, my lord, when I talk of the greatness of your talents. It is now toolate to flatter: This is no time for disguise. Pardon me therefore, mydear and ever-honoured pupil, if I may seem to offend against thoseminuter laws of etiquette, which were made only for common cases. At soimportant a crisis it is necessary to be plain. 

Your lordship is very cunning, but I never imagined that you wereremarkably wise. The talents you received at your birth, if we were tospeak with mathematical strictness, should rather be denominated knacks, than abilities. They consist rather in a lucky dexterity of face, and ahappy conformation of limb, than in any very elevated capacities of theintellect. Upon that score, my lord, --you know I am fond of comparisons, and I think I have hit upon one in this case, that must be acknowledgedremarkably apposite. I have sometimes seen a ditch, the water of which, though really shallow, has appeared to careless observers to be verydeep, for no other reason but because it was muddy. Believe me, my lord, experienced and penetrating observers are not so to be taken in. 

But, as I was saying, education is a temporary thing, and yourlordship's, however lasting and laborious, is at length brought to aperiod. My lord, if it so pleases the sovereign disposer of all things, I would be very well satisfied to remain in this sublunary state forsome years longer, if it were only that I might live to rejoice in theexemplification of my precepts in the conduct of my pupil. But, if thisboon be granted to my merits and my prayers, at any rate I shall fromthis moment retire from the world. From henceforth my _secret influence_is brought to its close. I will no longer be the unseen original of thegrand movements of the figures that fill the political stage. I willstand aloof from the giddy herd. I will not stray from my little vortex. I will look down upon the transactions of courts and ministers, like anetherial being from a superior element. There I shall hope to see yourlordship outstrip your contemporaries, and tower above the pigmies ofthe day. To repeat an idea before delivered, might be unbecoming in afine writer, but it is characteristic and beautiful under the personageof a preceptor. The fitnesses which nature bestowed upon your framewould not have done alone. But joined with the lessons I have taughtyou, they cannot fail, unless I grossly flatter myself, to make the partwhich your lordship shall act sufficiently conspicuous. 

Receive then, my lord, with that docility and veneration, which have atall times made the remembrance of you pleasant and reviving to my heart, the last communications of the instructor of your choice. Yes, my lord, from henceforth you shall see me, you shall hear from me no more. Fromthis consideration I infer one reason why you should deeply reflect uponthe precepts I have now to offer. Remembering that these little sheetsare all the legacy my affection can bestow upon you, I shall concenterin them the very quintessence and epitome of all my wisdom. I shallprovide in them a particular antidote to those defects to which naturehas made you most propense. 

But I have yet another reason to inforce your attention to what I amabout to write. I was, as I have said, the instructor of your choice. When I had yet remained neglected in the world, when my honours werewithered by the hand of poverty, when my blossoms appeared in the eyesof those who saw me of the most brown and wintery complexion, and, ifyour lordship will allow me to finish the metaphor, when I stank intheir noses, it was then that your lordship remarked and distinguishedme. Your bounty it was that first revived my native pride. It is truethat it ran in a little dribbling rivulet, but still it was much to me. Even before you were able to afford me any real assistance, you werealways ready to offer me a corner of your gingerbread, or a marble fromyour hoard. Your lordship had at all times a taste for sumptuousness andmagnificence, but you knew how to limit your natural propensity inconsideration of the calls of affinity, and to give your farthings toyour friends. 

Do not then, my dear lord, belie the first and earliest sentiments ofyour heart. As you have ever heard me, let your attention be triplednow. Read my letter once and again. Preserve it as a sacred deposit. Layit under your pillow. Meditate upon it fasting. Commit it to memory, andrepeat the scattered parcels of it, as Caesar is said to have done theGreek alphabet, to cool your rising choler. Be this the amulet topreserve you from danger! Be this the chart by which to steer the littleskiff of your political system safe into the port of historicimmortality!

My lord, you and I have read Machiavel together. It is true I am but abungler in Italian, and your lordship was generally obliged to interpretfor me. Your translation I dare say was always scientifical, but I wasseldom so happy as to see either grammar or sense in it. So far howeveras I can guess at the drift of this celebrated author, he seems to havewritten as the professor of only one science. He has treated of the artof government, and has enquired what was wise, and what was political. He has left the moralists to take care of themselves. 

In the present essay, my lord, I shall follow the example of Machiavel. I profess the same science, and I pretend only to have carried to muchgreater heights an art to which he has given a considerable degree ofperfection. Your lordship has had a great number of masters. Yourexcellent father, who himself had some dabbling in politics, spared noexpence upon your education, though I believe he had by no means so highan opinion of your genius and abilities as I entertained. Your lordshiptherefore is to be presumed competently versed in the rudiments ofethics. You have read Grotius, Puffendorf, and Cumberland. For my part Inever opened a volume of any one of them. I am self-taught. My scienceoriginates entirely in my unbounded penetration, and a sort of divineand supernatural afflatus. With all this your lordship knows I am amodest man. I have never presumed to entrench upon the province ofothers. Let the professors of ethics talk their nonsense. I will notinterrupt them. I will not endeavour to set your lordship against them. It is necessary for me to take politics upon an unlimited scale, and tosuppose that a statesman has no character to preserve but that ofspeciousness and plausibility. But it is your lordship's business toenquire whether this be really the case. 

I need not tell you, that I shall not, like the political writers withwhich you are acquainted, talk in the air. My instructions will be of apractical nature, and my rules adapted to the present condition of theEnglish government. That government is at present considerably, thoughimperfectly, a system of liberty. To such a system the most essentialmaxim is, that the governors shall be accountable and amenable to thegoverned. This principle has sometimes been denominated responsibility. Responsibility in a republican government is carried as high aspossible. In a limited monarchy it stops at the first ministers, theimmediate servants of the crown. Now to this system nothing can be morefatal, than for the public measures not really to originate withadministration, but with secret advisers who cannot be traced. This isto cut all the nerves of government, to loosen all the springs ofliberty, to make the constitution totter to its lowest foundations. 

I say this, my lord, not to terrify your lordship. The students and theimitators of Machiavel must not be frightened with bugbears. Beside, were cowardice as congenial to the feelings of your lordship as Iconfess it has sometimes been to mine, cowardice itself is not so apt tobe terrified with threats hung up _in terrorem_, and menaces of a vagueand general nature. It trembles only at a danger definite and impending. It is the dagger at the throat, it is the pistol at the breast, thatshakes her nerves. Prudence is alarmed at a distance, and calls up allher exertion. But cowardice is short-sighted, and was never productiveof any salutary effort. I say not this therefore to intimidate, but toexcite you. I would teach you, that this is a most important stepindeed, is the grand _desideratum_ in order to exalt the Englishmonarchy to a par with the glorious one of France, or any other absolutemonarchy in Christendom. 

In order, my lord, to annihilate responsibility, nothing more isnecessary than that every individual should be as free, and as much inthe habit of advising the king upon the measures of government, as hisministers. Let every discarded, and let every would-be statesman, sowdissension in the royal councils, and pour the poison of his discontentinto the royal ear. Let the cabinet ring with a thousand jarringsentiments; and let the subtlest courtier, let him that is the mostperfect master of wheedling arts and pathetic tones, carry it from everyrival. This, my lord, will probably create some confusion at first. Thesystem of government will appear, not a regular and proportioned beauty, like the pheasant of India, but a gaudy and glaring system ofunconnected parts, like Esop's daw with borrowed feathers. Anarchy anddarkness will be the original appearance. But light shall spring out ofthe noon of night; harmony and order shall succeed the chaos. Thepresent patchwork of three different forms of government shall bechanged into one simple and godlike system of despotism. Thus, whenLondon was burned, a more commodious and healthful city sprung as itwere out of her ashes. 

But neither Rome nor London was built in a day. The glorious work I amrecommending to you must be a work of time. At first it will benecessary for the person who would subvert the silly system of Englishgovernment, to enter upon his undertaking with infinite timidity andprecaution. He must stalk along in silence like Tarquin to the rape ofLucretia. His horses, like those of Lear, must be shoed with felt. Hemust shroud himself in the thickest shade. Let him comfort himself withthis reflexion:

"It is but for a time. It will soon be over. No work of mortal hands canlong stand against concussions so violent. Ulysses, who entered Troy, shut up in the cincture of the wooden horse, shall soon burst theenclosure, shall terrify those from whose observation he lately shrunk, and carry devastation and ruin on whatever side he turns. "

My lord, I have considered the subject of politics with as muchacuteness as any man. I have revolved a thousand schemes, which torecommend to the pursuit of the statesman of my own creation. But thereis no plan of action that appears to me half so grand and comprehensive, as this of _secret influence_. It is true the scheme is not entirelynew. It has been a subject of discussion ever since the English nationcould boast any thing like a regular system of liberty. It wascomplained of under king William. It was boasted of, even toostentation, by the Tory ministers of queen Anne. The Pelhams cried outupon it in lord Carteret. It has been the business of half the historyof the present reign to fix the charge upon my lord Bute. 

And yet in spite of these appearances, in spite of all the deductionsthat modesty can authorise, I may boldly affirm that my scheme hassomething in it that is truly original. My lord, I would not have youproceed by leaps and starts, like these half-fledged statesmen. I wouldhave you proceed from step to step in a finished and faultless plan. Ihave too an improvement without which the first step is of no value, which yet has seldom been added, which at first sight has a very daringappearance, but which I pretend to teach your lordship to practice withperfect safety. But it is necessary for me, before I come to this grand_arcanum_ of my system, to premise a few observations for the moreaccurately managing the influence itself. 

My lord, there are a variety of things necessary to absolute secrecy. There is nothing more inconvenient to a political character than thatgross and unmanageable quantity of flesh and blood that fortune hasdecreed that every mortal should carry about with him. The man who isproperly initiated in the _arcana_ of a closet, ought to be able tosqueeze himself through a key hole, and, whenever any impertinentMarplot appears to blast him, to change this unwieldy frame into thesubstance of the viewless winds. How often must a theoretical statesmanlike myself, have regretted that incomparable invention, the ring ofGyges! How often must he have wished to be possessed of one of thosediabolical forms, described by Milton, which now were taller than thepole, and anon could shrink into the compass of an atom!

But I forget the characteristic of my profession. It is not ours, mylord, to live in air-built castles, and to deal in imaginary hypotheses. On the contrary, we are continually talking of the weakness and thefrailty of humanity. Does any man impeach one of our body of bribery andcorruption? We confess that these practices may seem to run counter withthe fine-spun systems of morality; but this is our constant apology, human affairs can be no otherwise managed. Does any man suggest the mostbeautiful scheme of oeconomy, or present us with the most perfect modelof liberty? We turn away with a sneer, and tell him that all this isplausible and pretty; but that we do not concern ourselves with anything but what is practicable. 

In conformity to these ideas, I beg leave, my lord, to recal thefantastic wishes that have just escaped me. To be corporeal is ourirrevocable fate, and we will not waste our time in fruitlessly accusingit. My lord, I have one or two little expedients to offer to you, which, though they do not amount to a perfect remedy in this case, will yet, Ihope, prove a tolerable substitute for those diabolical forms of which Iwas talking. 

I need not put your lordship in mind how friendly to such practices asours, is the cover of darkness, and how convenient those little machinescommonly called back-stairs. I dare say even your lordship, howeverinconsequently you may often conduct yourself, would scarcely think ofmid-day as the most proper season of concealment, or the passing througha crowded levee, the most natural method of entering the royal closetunobserved. 

But, my lord, you will please to recollect, that there are certainattendants upon the person of the sovereign whom I find classed in thatepitome of political wisdom, the Red Book, under the name of pages. Mostwise is the institution, (and your lordship will observe that I am notnow deviating into the regions of fable) which is common to all theEastern courts, of having these offices filled by persons, who, uponperil of their life, may not, in any circumstances whatsoever, utter aword. But unfortunately in the western climates in which we reside, thething is otherwise. The institution of mutes is unknown to us. The lipsof our pages have never been inured to the wholesome discipline of thepadlock. They are as loquacious, and blab as much as other men. Youknow, my lord, that I am fond of illustrating the principles I lay downby the recital of facts. The last, and indeed the only time that I everentered the metropolis, I remember, as my barber was removing the hairfrom my nether lip:--My barber had all that impertinentcommunicativeness that is incident to the gentlemen of his profession;he assured me, that he had seen that morning one of the pages of theback-stairs, who declared to him, upon the word of a man of honour, thathe had that moment admitted a certain nobleman by a private door to thepresence of his master; that the face of the noble lord was perfectlyfamiliar to him, and that he had let him in some fifty times in thecourse of the past six months. 

"How silly is all this!" added the page; "and how glad should I be", licking his lips, "that it were but an opera girl or a countess! And yetmy mistress is the very best mistress that ever I see!" _Oh this waspoor, and showed a pitiful ambition__ in the man that did it!_ I willswear, my lord, that the nobleman who could thus have been betrayed, must have been a thick-headed fellow, and fit for no one public office, not even for that of _turnspit of his majesty's kitchen_![A]

[Footnote A: Vide Burke's Speech upon Oeconomy. ]

My lord, if you would escape that rock, upon which this statesmanterminated his political career, ever while you live make use ofbribery. Let the pages finger your cash, let them drink your health in aglass of honest claret, and let them chuckle over the effects of yourlordship's munificence. I know that you will pour forth many a patheticcomplaint over the money that is drawn off by this copious receiver, butbelieve the wisest man that now exists, when he assures you, that it iswell bestowed. Your lordship's bounty to myself has sometimes amountedto near ten pounds in the course of a twelvemonth. That drain, my lord, is stopped. I shall receive from you no more. Let then the expence, which you once incurred for my sake, be henceforth diverted to thisvaluable purpose. 

I believe, my lord, that this is all the improvement that can be madeupon the head of pages. I think we can scarcely venture upon theexpedient that would otherwise be admirable, of these interviews beingcarried on without the intervention of any such impertinent fellows, from whom one is ever in danger, without the smallest notice, of havingit published at St. James's-Market, and proclaimed from the statue atCharing-Cross. If however you should think this expedient adviseable, Iwould recommend it to you not to mention it to your gracious master. Courts are so incumbered and hedged in with ceremony, that the membersof them are always prone to imagine that the form is more essential andindispensable, than the substance. Suppose then, my lord, you were, byone of those sly opportunities, which you know so well how to command, to take off the key in wax, and get a picklock key made exactly upon themodel of it. The end, my lord, take my word for it, would abundantlysanctify the apparent sordidness of the means. In this situation Icannot help picturing to myself the surprise and the joy, that would bein a moment lighted up in the countenance of your friend. Yourrencounter would be as unexpected and fortunate as that of Lady Randolphand her son, when she fears every moment to have him murdered byGlenalvon. You would fly into each others arms, and almost smother oneanother in your mutual embrace. 

But another thing that is abundantly worthy of your lordship'sattention, is the subject of disguises and dark lanthorns. Harley, afterwards earl of Oxford, was in the practice, if I remember right, forit is some time since I read Dr. Swift's political pamphlets, ofcrossing the park in a horseman's coat. But this is too shallow and thina disguise. A mask, on the other hand, might perhaps be too particular. Though indeed at midnight, which is the only time that I would recommendto your lordship in which to approach within a hundred yards of thepalace, it might probably pass without much observation. A slouched hat, and a bob wig, your lordship may at any time venture upon. But there isnothing that is of so much importance in this affair as variety. I wouldsometimes put on the turban of a Turk, and sometimes the half breechesof a Highlander. I would sometimes wear the lawn sleeves of a bishop, and sometimes the tye-wig of a barrister. A leathern apron and a trowelmight upon occasion be of sovereign efficacy. The long beard andneglected dress of a Shylock should be admitted into the list. I wouldalso occasionally lay aside the small clothes, and assume the dress of awoman. I would often trip it along with the appearance and gesture of aspruce milliner; and I would often stalk with the solemn air andsweeping train of a duchess. But of all the infinite shapes of humandress, I must confess that, my favourite is the kind of doublet thatprince Harry wore when he assaulted Falstaff. The nearer it approachesto the guise of a common carman the better, and his long whip ought tobe inseparable. If you could add to it the sooty appearance of acoal-heaver, or a chimney-sweep, it would sit, upon this more preciousthan velvet garb, like spangles and lace. I need not add, that to a mindof elegance and sensibility, the emblematical allusion which this dresswould carry to the secrecy and impenetrableness of the person that wearsit, must be the source of a delightful and exquisite sensation. 

And now, my lord, for the last head, which it is necessary to mentionunder this division of my subject, I mean that of lanthorns. Twentypeople, I doubt not, whom your lordship might consult upon thisoccasion, would advise you to go without any lanthorn at all. Beware ofthis, my lord. It is a rash and a thoughtless advice. It may possibly bea false and insidious one. Your lordship will never think of goingalways in the same broad and frequented path. Many a causeway you willhave to cross, many a dark and winding alley to tread. Suppose, my lord, the pavement were to be torn up, and your lordship were to break yourshin! Suppose a drain were to have been opened in the preceding day, without your knowing any thing of the matter, and your lordship were tobreak your neck! Suppose, which is more terrible than all the rest, youwere to set your foot upon that which I dare not name, and by offendingthe olfactory nerves of majesty, you were to forfeit his affections forever!

So much, my lord, by way of declamation against the abolition oflanthorns. Your lordship however does not imagine I shall say any thingupon affairs so common as the glass lanthorn, the horn lanthorn, and theperforated tin lanthorn. This last indeed is most to my purpose, but itwill not do, my lord, it will not do. There is a kind of lanthorns, yourlordship has seen them, that have one side dark, and the other light. Iremember to have observed your lordship for half a day together, poringover the picture of Guy Faux, in the Book of Martyrs. This was one ofthe early intimations which my wisdom enabled me to remark of thedestination which nature had given you. You know, my lord, that thepossessor of this lanthorn can turn it this way and that, as he pleases. He can contrive accurately to discern the countenance of every otherperson, without being visible himself. I need not enlarge to yourlordship upon the admirable uses of this machine. I will only add, thatmy very dear and ever-lamented friend Mr. Pinchbeck, effected before hedied an improvement upon it so valuable, that it cannot but preserve hisname from that oblivious power, by which common names are devoured. Inhis lanthorn, the shade, which used to be inseparable, may be taken awayat the possessor's pleasure, like the head of a whisky, and it mayappear to all intents and purposes one of the common vehicles of thekind. He had also a contrivance, never to be sufficiently commended, that when the snuff of the candle had attained a certain length, itmoved a kind of automatic pair of snuffers that hung within side, andamputated itself. He left me two of these lanthorns as a legacy. Such ismy value for your lordship, that I have wrought myself up to aresolution of parting with one of them in your lordship's favour. Youwill receive it in four days from the date of this by Gines's waggon, that puts up in Holborn. 

But, my lord, there is a second object of consideration still moreimportant than this. It is in vain for your lordship, or any otherperson, to persuade the sovereign against any of the measures of hisgovernment, unless you can add to this the discovery of those newsentiments you have instilled, to all such as it may concern. It is thebusiness of every Machiavelian minister, such as your lordship, bothfrom nature and choice, is inclined to be, to prop the cause ofdespotism. In order to this, the dignity of the sovereign is not to becommitted, but exalted. To bring forward the royal person to put anegative upon any bill in parliament, is a most inartificial mode ofproceeding. It marks too accurately the strides of power, and awakenstoo pointedly the attention of the multitude. Your lordship has heardthat the house of lords is the barrier between the king and the people. There is a sense of this phrase, of which I am wonderfully fond. Thedissemination of the royal opinion will at any time create a majority inthat house, to divert the odium from the person of the monarch. Twenty-two bishops, thirteen lords of the bed-chamber, and all therabble of household troops, will at any time compose an army. They maynot indeed cover an acre of ground, nor would I advise your lordship todistribute them into a great number of regiments. Their countenances arenot the most terrific that were ever beheld, and it might be proper toofficer them with persons of more sagacity than themselves. But underall this meekness of appearance, and innocence of understanding, believeme, my lord, they are capable of keeping at bay the commons and thepeople of England united in one cause, for a considerable time. Theyhave been too long at the beck of a minister, not to be somewhat callousin their feelings. And they are too numerous, not to have shoulderscapacious enough to bear all the obloquy, with which their conduct maybe attended. 

But then, my lord, as I would not recommend it to you to bring intopractice the royal negative, so neither perhaps would it be advisablefor the sovereign, to instruct those lords immediately attendant uponhim, in person. Kings, you are not to be informed, are to be managed andhumoured by those that would win their confidence. If your lordshipcould invent a sort of down, more soft and yielding than has yet beenemployed, it might be something. But to point out to your master, thathe must say this, and write that, that he must send for one man, andbreak with another, is an unpleasant and ungrateful office. It must beyour business to take the burden from his shoulders. You must smooth theroad you would have him take, and strew with flowers the path of ruin. If he favour your schemes with a smile of approbation, if he bestow uponyour proceedings the sanction of a nod, it is enough. It is godlikefortitude, and heroic exertion. 

But secrecy is the very essence of deep and insidious conduct. I wouldadvise your lordship to bring even your own name into question, aslittle as possible. My lord Chesterfield compares a statesman, who hasbeen celebrated for influence during the greatest part of the presentreign, to the ostrich. The brain of an ostrich, your lordship willplease to observe, though he be the largest of birds, may very easily beincluded in the compass of a nut-shell. When pursued by the hunters, heis said to bury his head in the sand, and having done this, to imaginethat he cannot be discovered by the keenest search. Do not you, my lord, imitate the manners of the ostrich. Believe me, they are ungraceful;and, if maturely considered, will perhaps appear to be a little silly. 

There is a contrivance that has occurred to me, which, if it were notaccompanied with a circumstance somewhat out of date, appears to me inthe highest degree admirable. Suppose you were to treat the lords of thebedchamber with a sight of St. Paul's cathedral? There is a certain partof it of a circular form, commonly called the whispering gallery. Youhave probably heard, that by the uncommon echo of this place, theweakest sound that can possibly be articulated, is increased by thattime it has gone half round, into a sound, audible and strong. Yourlordship, with your flock of geese about you, would probably be frolicand gamesome. You may easily contrive to scatter them through the wholecircumference of this apartment. Of a sudden, you will please to turnyour face to the wall, and utter in a solemn tone the royal opinion. Every body will be at a loss from whence the mandate proceeds. Some ofyour companions, more goose-like than the rest, will probably imagine ita voice from heaven. The sentence must be two or three times repeated atproper intervals, before you can contrive to have each of the lords inturn at the required distance. This will demand a considerable degree ofalertness and agility. But alertness and agility are qualities by whichyour lordship is so eminently distinguished, that I should have very fewapprehensions about your success. Meanwhile it will be proper to have aselect number of footmen stationed at the door of the gallery, armedwith smelling-bottles. Some of your friends, I suspect, would be so muchalarmed at this celestial and ghost-like phenomenon, as to render thispart of the plan of singular service. 

But after all, I am apprehensive that many of the noble lords to whom Iallude, would be disgusted at the very mention of any thing soold-fashioned and city-like, as a visit to this famous cathedral. Andeven if that were not the case, it is proper to be provided with morethan one scheme for the execution of so necessary a purpose. Thequestion is of no contemptible magnitude, between instructions _vivavoce_, and a circular letter. In favour of the first it may be said, that a letter is the worst and most definite evidence to a man'sdisadvantage that can be conceived. It may easily be traced. It canscarcely be denied. The sense of it cannot readily be explainedaway. --It must be confessed there is something in this; and yet, mylord, I am by all means for a letter. A voice may often be overheard. Iremember my poor old goody used to say, (heaven rest her soul!) Thatwalls had ears. There are some lords, my dear friend, that can neverthink of being alone. Bugbears are ever starting up in their prolificimagination, and they cannot be for a moment in the dark, withoutexpecting the devil to fly away with them. They have some useful pimp, some favourite toad-eater, that is always at their elbow. Ever remember, so long as you live, that toad-eaters are treacherous friends. Beside, it would be a little suspicious, to see your lordship's carriage makinga regular tour from door to door among the lords of the bed-chamber. AndI would by no means have Pinchbeck's dark-lanthorn brought into commonuse. Consider, my lord, when that is worn out, you will not know whereto get such another. 

A letter may be disguised in various ways. You would certainly neverthink of signing your name. You might have it transcribed by yoursecretary. But then this would be to commit your safety and your fame tothe keeping of another. No, my lord, there are schemes worth a hundredof this. Consider the various hands in which a letter may be written. There is the round hand, and the Italian hand, the text hand, and therunning hand. You may form your letters upon the Roman or the Italicmodel. Your billet may he engrossed. You may employ the German text orthe old primero. If I am not mistaken, your lordship studied all thesewhen you were a boy for this very purpose. Yes, my lord, I may be in thewrong, but I am confidently of opinion, that this is absolutely thefirst, most important, and most indispensible accomplishment of astatesman. I would forgive him, if he did not know a cornet from anensign, I would forgive him, if he thought Italy a province of AsiaMinor. But not to write primero! the nincompoop! the numbscul!

If it were not that the persons with whom your lordship has tocorrespond, can some of them barely spell their native tongue, I wouldrecommend to your lordship the use of cyphers. But no, you might as wellwrite the language of Mantcheux Tartars. For consider, your letters maybe intercepted. It is true, they have not many perils to undergo. Theyare not handed from post-house to post-house. There are no impertinentoffice-keepers to inspect them by land. There are no privateers tocapture them by sea. But, my lord, they have perils to encounter, thevery recollection of which makes me tremble to the inmost fibre of myframe. They are ale-houses, my lord. Think for a moment of theclattering of porter-pots, and the scream of my goodly hostess. Imaginethat the blazing fire smiles through the impenetrable window, and thatthe kitchen shakes with the peals of laughter. These are temptations, mylord, that no mortal porter can withstand. When the unvaried countenanceof his gracious sovereign smiles invitation upon him from the weatherbeaten sign-post, what loyal heart but must be melted into compliance. 

From all these considerations, my lord, I would advise you to write withinvisible ink. Milk I believe will serve the purpose, though I amafraid, that the milk that is hawked about the streets of London, hasrather too much water in it. The juice of lemon is a sovereign recipe. There are a variety of other preparations that will answer the purpose. But these may be learned from the most vulgar and accessible sources ofinformation. And you will please to observe, that I suffer nothing tocreep into this political testament, more valuable than those ofRichelieu, Mazarine, and Alberoni, that is not entirely original matter. My lord, I defy you to learn a single particular of the refinements herecommunicated from the greatest statesman that lives. They talk of Fox!He would give his right hand for an atom of them!

I will now suppose you, my lord, by all these artifices, arrived at thevery threshold of power. I will suppose that you have just defeated thegrandest and the wisest measure of your political antagonists. I thinkthere is nothing more natural, though the rule will admit of manyexceptions, than for people who act uniformly in opposition to eachother, upon public grounds, to be of opposite characters anddispositions. I will therefore imagine, that, shocked with the boundlessextortions and the relentless cruelties that have been practised in somedistant part of the empire, they came forward with a measure full ofgenerous oblivion for the part, providing with circumspect and collectedhumanity for the future. I will suppose, that they were desirous oftaking an impotent government out of the hands of Jews and pedlars, oldwomen and minors, and to render it a part of the great system. I willsuppose, that they were desirous of transferring political power from acompany of rapacious and interested merchants, into the hands ofstatesmen, men distinguished among a thousand parties for clearintegrity, disinterested virtue, and spotless fame. This, my lord, wouldbe a field worthy of your lordship's prowess. Could you but gain theinterested, could you eternize rapacity, and preserve inviolate the blotof the English name, what laurels would not your lordship deserve?

I will therefore suppose, that your gracious master meets you with a_carte blanche_, that he is disposed to listen to all your advices, andto adopt all your counsels. Your lordship is aware that the road ofsecret influence, and that of popular favour, are not exactly the same. No ministry can long preserve their seats unless they possess theconfidence of a majority of the house of commons. The ministry thereforeagainst which your lordship acts, we will take it for granted are inthis predicament. In this situation then an important question naturallyarises. Either a majority in the house of commons must be purchased atany rate, or the government must be conducted in defiance of that house, or thirdly, the parliament must be dissolved. Exclusive of these three, I can conceive of no alternative. We will therefore examine each in itsturn. 

Shall a majority in the house of commons be created? Much may be said onboth sides. A very ingenious friend of mine, for whose counsels I havean uncommon deference, assured me, that nothing would be so easy asthis. Observing with a shrewdness that astonished me, that ministry, upon a late most important question, mustered no more than 250 votes, and that there were 558 members, he inferred, that you had nothing moreto do than to send for those that were absent out of the country, andyou might have upwards of 300 to pit against the 250. It is withinfinite regret that I ever suffer myself to dissent from the opinion ofthis gentleman. But suppose, my lord, which is at least possible, thatone half of the absentees should be friends to the cause of the people;what would become of us then? There remains indeed the obvious method ofpurchasing votes, and it might be supposed that your lordship's talentof insinuation might do you knight's service in this business. But no, my lord, many of these country gentlemen are at bottom no better thanboors. A mechlin cravat and a smirking countenance, upon which yourlordship builds so much, would be absolutely unnoticed by them. I amafraid of risquing my credit with your lordship, but I can assure you, that I have heard that one of these fellows has been known to fly from anobleman covered with lace, and powdered, and perfumed to the very tipof the mode, to follow the standard of a commoner whose coat has beenstained with claret, and who has not had a ruffle to his shirt. My lord, if common fame may be trusted, these puppies are literally tastelessenough to admire wit, though the man who utters it be ever so corpulent, and to discover eloquence in the mouth of one, who can suffer himself tospit in an honourable assembly. I am a plain man, my lord; but I reallythink that among marquisses and dukes, right honourables and rightreverends, these things are intolerable. 

I would therefore have your lordship give up at once, and with a grace, the very idea of bringing over to your side the partisans of these hugeslovenly fellows. The scheme of governing the country without taking thehouse of commons along with you, is much more feasible than this. Thismight be done by passing an act of parliament by the authority of twoestates of the realm, to declare the house of commons useless. For mypart, I am far from thinking this so bold a step as by some it may beimagined. Was not Rome a free state, though it had no house of commons?Has not the British house of commons been incessantly exclaimed upon, ascorrupt and nugatory? Has not a reform respecting them been called forfrom all quarters of the kingdom? I am much of opinion in the presentcase, that that is the most effectual reform, which goes to the root. Rome had her hereditary nobility, which composed her senate. She had herconsuls, an ill-imagined substitute for monarchical power. In these, mylord, was comprehended, in a manner, the whole of her government. Ishall be told indeed that they had occasionally their _comitia_, orassemblies of the citizens of the metropolis. But this is so far from anobjection to my reasoning, that it furnishes me with a very valuablehint for the improvement of the English constitution. 

Let the present house of commons be cashiered, and let the commoncouncil of the city of London be placed at St. Stephen's chapel in theirroom. These your lordship will find a much more worthy and manageableset of people, than the representatives of the nation at large. And canany sensible man doubt for a moment, which are the most respectable bodyof men? Examine their persons. Among their predecessors I see many poor, lank, shrivelled, half-starved things, some bald, some with a fewstraggling hairs, and some with an enormous bag, pendant from no hair atall. Turn, my lord, to the other side. There you will see a good, comely, creditable race of people. They look like brothers. As theirsize and figure are the same, so by the fire in their eyes, and theexpression in their countenances, you could scarcely know one of themfrom another. Their very gowns are enough to strike terror into the mostinattentive. Each of them covers his _cranium_ with a venerable periwig, whose flowing curls and voluminous frizure bespeak wealth andcontentment. Their faces are buxom, and their cheeks are florid. 

You will also, my lord, find them much more easy and tractable, than thesqueamish, fretful, discontented wretches, with which other ministershave had to do. There is but one expence that will be requisite. It isuniform, and capable of an easy calculation. In any great and tryingquestion, I was going to say debate, but debates, I am apt to think, would not be very frequent, or very animated, --your lordship has nothingto do, but to clear the table of the rolls and parchments, with which itis generally covered, and spreading a table cloth, place upon it half ascore immense turtles, smoking hot, and larded with green fat. My lord, I will forfeit my head, if with this perfume regaling their nostrils, asingle man has resolution enough to divide the house, or to declare hisdiscontent with any of the measures of government, by going out into thelobby. 

So much, my lord, for this scheme. It is too considerable to be adoptedwithout deliberation; it is too important, and too plausible, to berejected without examination. The only remaining hypothesis is that of adissolution. Much, I know, may be said against this measure; but, for myown part, next to the new and original system I have had the honour ofopening to your lordship, it is with me a considerable favourite. Those, whose interests it is to raise an outcry against it, will exclaim, "What, for the petty and sinister purposes of ambition, shall the wholenation be thrown into uproar and confusion? Who is it that complains ofthe present house of parliament? Is the voice of the people raisedagainst it? Do petitions come up from every quarter of the kingdom, asthey did, to no purpose, a few years ago, for its dissolution? But it isthe prerogative of the king to dissolve his parliament. And because itis his prerogative, because he has a power of this kind reserved forsingular emergencies, does it follow, that this power is to be exercisedat caprice, and without weighty and comprehensive reasons? It mayhappen, that the parliament is in the midst of its session, that thevery existence of revenue may be unprovided for, and the urgent claimsof humanity unfulfilled. It is of little consequence, " they will perhapspretend, "who is in, and who is out, so the national interests arehonestly pursued, and the men who superintend them be not defective inabilities. That then must be a most lawless and undisguised spirit ofselfishness, that can for these baubles risk the happiness of millions, and the preservation of the constitution. "

All these observations, my lord, may sound well enough in the harangueof a demagogue; but is it for such a man, to object to a repetition ofthat appeal to the people in general, in the frequency and universalityof which the very existence of liberty consists? Till lately, I think ithas been allowed, that one of those reforms most favourable todemocracy, was an abridgment of the duration of parliaments. But if ageneral abridgment be so desirable, must not every particular abridgmenthave its value too? Shall the one be acknowledged of a salutary, and yetthe other be declared of a pernicious tendency? Is it possible that thenature of a part, and of the whole, can be not only dissimilar, butopposite? But I will quit these general and accurate reasonings. It isnot in them that our strength lies. 

They tell us, that the measure of a dissolution is an unpopular one. Mylord, it is not so, that you and I are to be taken in. Picture toyourself the very kennels flowing with rivers of beer. Imagine the doorof every hospitable ale-house throughout the kingdom, thrown open forthe reception of the ragged and pennyless burgess. Imagine the wholecountry filled with the shouts of drunkenness, and the air rent withmingled huzzas. Represent the broken heads, and the bleeding noses, thetattered raiment, and staggering bodies of a million of loyal voters. Mylord, will they pretend, that the measure that gives birth to thisglorious scene, is unpopular? We must be very ill versed in the scienceof human nature, if we could believe them. 

But a more important consideration arises. A general election would beof little value, if by means of it a majority of representatives werenot to be gained to the aristocratical party. If I were to disadvise adissolution, it would be from the fear of a sinister event. It is true, your lordship has a thousand soft blandishments. You can smile and bowin the newest and most approved manner. But, my lord, in the midst of aparcel of Billingsgate fishwomen, in the midst of a circle of butcherswith marrow-bones and cleavers, I am afraid these accomplishments wouldbe of little avail. It is he, most noble patron, who can swallow thegreatest quantity of porter, who can roar the best catch, and who is thecompleatest bruiser, that will finally carry the day. He must kiss thefrost-bitten lips of the green-grocers. He must smooth the frowzy cheeksof chandlers-shop women. He must stroke down the infinite belly of aWapping landlady. I see your lordship tremble at the very catalogue. Could you divide yourself into a thousand parts, and every part be tentimes more gigantic than the whole, you would shrink into non-entity atthe disgustful scene. 

In this emergency I can invent only one expedient. Your lordship Iremember had six different services of plate when you were in Ireland, and the duke of P---- could boast only of three. You had also fivefootmen and a scullion boy more than his grace. By all this magnificenceI have been told that you dazzled and enchanted a certain class of thegood people of that kingdom. My lord, you must now improve thepopularity you gained. Import by the very first hoy a competent numberof chairmen. You are not to be told that they are accustomed to put on agold-lace coat as soon as they arrive upon our shore, and dub themselvesfortune-hunters. It will be easy therefore to pass them here forgentlemen, whose low familiarity shall be construed into the mostravishing condescension. No men, my lord, can drink better than they. There is no constitution, but that of an Irish chairman, that candispense with the bouncing whisky. They are both brawny and courageous, and must therefore make excellent bruisers. Their chief talent lies inthe art of courtship, and they are by no means nice and squeamish intheir stomach for a mistress. They can also occasionally put off theassumed character of good breeding, and if it be necessary to act overagain the celebrated scenes of Balfe and M'Quirk, they would not befound at a loss. My lord, they seem to have been created for this verypurpose, and if you have any hope from a general election, you mustderive every benefit from their distinguished merit. I own however, I amapprehensive for the experiment, and after all would advise yourlordship to recur to the very excellent scheme of the common-councilmen. 

There is only one point more which it remains for me to discuss. I havealready taken it for granted, that you are offered your choice of everypost that exists in the government of this country. Here again, if youwere to consult friends less knowing than myself, you would be presentedwith nothing but jarring and discordant opinions. Some would say, George, take it, and some, George, let it alone. For my part, my lord, Iwould advise you to do neither the one nor the other. Fickleness andinstability, your lordship will please to observe, are of the veryessence of a real statesman. Who were the greatest statesmen thiscountry ever had to boast? They were, my lord, the two Villiers's, dukesof Buckingham. Did not the first of these take his young master to thekingdom of Spain, in order to marry the infanta, and then break off thematch for no cause at all? Did he not afterwards involve the nation in aquarrel with the king of France, only because her most christian majestywould not let him go to bed to her? What was the character of the secondduke? This nobleman, Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was every thing by starts, and nothing long, But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon. 

My lord, I do not flatter you so far as to suppose that your abilitiesare as great, or that you will ever make so distinguished a figure aseither of these noblemen. But I would have you imitate them in yourhumbler circle, and venture greatly, though the honour you should derivefrom it, should be only, that you greatly fell. Accept therefore, mylord, of one of the principal responsible offices without thought andwithout hesitation. Through terror or manly spirit, or whatever youchoose to call it, resign again the next day. As soon as you have donethis, make interest for another place, and if you can obtain it, throwit up as soon again. This, my lord, is not, as an ignorant andcoxcomical writer has represented it, "the vibration of a pendulum, " buta conduct, wise, manly, judicious, and heroic. Who does not know, thatthe twinkling stars are of a more excellent nature, than those whichshine upon us with unremitted lustre? Who does not know that the comet, which appears for a short time, and vanishes again for revolving years, is more gazed upon than either? But I am afraid the comet is too sublimean idea for your lordship's comprehension. I would therefore recommendto you, to make the cracker the model of your conduct. You should snapand bounce at regular intervals; at one moment you should seem a blazingstar, and the next be lost in trackless darkness. 

My lord, there is nothing, which at all times I have taken more pains tosubdue, than that overweening pride, and immeasurable conceit, which arethe principal features of your lordship's character. Nature, indeed, hasfurnished you with one corrective to them, or they must infallibly havedamned you. It is timidity. Other people may laugh at this quality. Formy part I esteem it worthy the loudest praise and most assiduouscultivation. When the balance hangs in doubt between the adventurousnessof vanity and the frigidity of fear, ever incline to the latter side. Ihad rather your lordship should be a coward, than a coxcomb. If howeveryou could attain to that reasonable and chastised opinion of yourself, which should steer a proper mean between these extremes, should make youfeel your strength, when menaced by the most terrible adversaries, andyour weakness, when soothed by the most fawning parasites, this, mylord, would be the highest perfection to which you could possiblyattain. I will therefore close my epistle with the discussion of a case, which your lordship may think parallel to the species of behaviour Ihave recommended to your cultivation. I mean that of the celebrated andincomparable earl Granville, in the year 1746. I will show you what thisnobleman did, and in how many particulars you must for ever hope in vainto resemble him. 

I remember, my lord, that you and I once studied together the History ofEngland, in Question and Answer. If your lordship recollects, the year1746 began in the very height of the celebrated rebellion. The ministersof the sovereign at this time, were, that mixed and plausible character, Mr. Pelham, and that immortalized booby, the duke of Newcastle. Thesegentlemen possessed their full proportion of that passion, souniversally incident to the human frame, the love of power. They hadformed such a connection with the monied interest of the kingdom, thatno administration could go on without them. Conscious to thiscircumstance, they had no toleration for a rival, they could "bear nobrother near the throne. " From this sentiment, they had driven that mostable minister I have mentioned, from the cabinet of his sovereign, in novery justifiable manner, about twelve months before. The same jealousykept alive their suspicions: they knew the partiality of their master:they imagined their antagonist still lurked behind the curtain. Thedistresses of the kingdom were to them the ladder of ambition. This wasthe language they held to their sovereign: "The enemy is alreadyadvanced into the heart of your majesty's dominions. We know that youcannot do without us. You must therefore listen with patience to what weshall dictate. Drive from your presence for ever the wisest and theablest of all your counsellors. This is the only condition, upon whichwe will continue to serve you in this perilous moment. " Majesty, as itwas but natural, was disgusted with this language. The Pelhams resigned. Lord Granville accepted the seals. And he held them I believe forsomething more than a fortnight. 

My lord, I will tell you, what were the Pelhams, and what was the truecharacter of lord Granville. Whatever may be said, and much I think mayjustly be said, in favour of the former, they were not men of genius. Capable of conducting, and willing upon the whole to conduct withloyalty and propriety the affairs of their country, while they keptwithin the beaten channel, they were not born to grapple with arduoussituations. They had not that commanding spirit of adventure, whichleads a man into the path of supererogation and voluntary service: theyhad not that firm and collected fortitude which induces a man to lookdanger in the face, to encounter it in all its force, and to drive itfrom all its retrenchments. They were particularly attached to thepatronage, which is usually annexed to their high situations. They didnot come into power by the voice of the people. They were not summonedto assume the administration by a vote of the house of commons. Theywere introduced into the cabinet by an inglorious and guilty compromiseof sir Robert Walpole; a compromise, that shunned the light; acompromise, that reflected indelible disgrace upon every individualconcerned in it. We will suppose them ever so much in the right in theinstance before us. For certainly, the same responsibility, that oughtto remove a minister from the helm, when he is become obnoxious to hiscountrymen, equally makes it improper, that he should be originallyappointed by the fancy or capricious partiality of the sovereign. Butwere they over so much in the right, it will yet remain true, that theytook a poor and ungenerous advantage of the personal distresses of theirmaster, which men of a large heart, and of sterling genius, could neverhave persuaded themselves to take. 

Such were the ministers, whom it appears that king George the secondwould have had no objection to strip of their employments. I will tellyou who it was, that he was willing to have substituted in their place. It was a man of infinite genius. His taste was a standard to those, whowere most attached to the fine arts, and most uninterruptedly conversantwith them. His eloquence was splendid, animated, and engaging. Of allthe statesmen then existing in Europe, he was perhaps the individual, who best understood the interests and the politics of all her courts. But your lordship may probably find it somewhat more intelligible, if Itake the other side of the picture, and tell you what he was not. He wasnot a man of fawning and servility. He did not rest his ambitiouspretensions upon any habitual adroitness, upon the arts of wheedling, and the tones of insinuation. He rested them upon the most solidtalents, and the most brilliant accomplishments. He did not creep intothe closet of his sovereign uncalled, and endeavour to make himself ofconsequence by assiduities and officiousness. He pleaded for years, in amanly and ingenuous manner, the cause of the people in parliament. Itwas by a popularity, great, and almost without exception, that he wasintroduced into power. When defeated by the undermining and contemptibleart of his rivals; when convinced that it was impossible for him, toemploy his abilities with success in the service of his country, heretired. And it was only by the personal intreaties of his sovereign, and to assist him in that arduous and difficult situation, in whichthose who ought to have served, deserted him, that he once againaccepted of office. He accepted it, for the temporary benefit of hiscountry, and till those persons, who only could come into administrationwith efficiency and advantage, should again resume their places. He madeway for them without a struggle. He did not pretend to set practicalimpotence, though accompanied with abilities incomparably the superior, against that influence and connexion by which they were supported. Ofconsequence, my lord, his memory will always be respected and cherishedby the bulk of mankind. 

I do not mean to propose him to your lordship for a model. I neverimagined that your talents qualified you for the most distantresemblance of him; and I wished to convince you how inferior they were. Beside, my lord, he did not act upon the Machiavelian plan. His systemwas that of integrity, frankness, and confidence. He desired to meet hisenemies; and the more extensive the ground upon which he could meetthem, the better. I was never idle enough to think of such a line ofconduct for your lordship. Go on then in those crooked paths, and thatinvisible direction, for which nature has so eminently fitted you. Intrench yourself behind the letter of the law. Avoid, carefully avoid, the possibility of any sinister evidence. And having uniformly takenthese precautions, defy all the malice of your enemies. They maythreaten, but they shall never hurt you. They may make you tremble andshrink with fancied terrors, but they shall never be able to man so muchas a straw against you. Immortality, my lord, is suspended over yourhead. Do not shudder at the sound. It shall not be an immortality ofinfamy. It shall only be an immortality of contempt. 

THE END. 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE SEMINARY

That will be opened

On MONDAY the Fourth Day of AUGUST, At EPSOM in SURREY, For the INSTRUCTION of

TWELVE PUPILS

IN

The GREEK, LATIN, FRENCH, and ENGLISH Languages. 

M. DCC. LXXXIII. 

AN

ACCOUNT

OF THE

SEMINARY, &C. 

The two principal objects of human power are government and education. They have accordingly engrossed a very large share in the disquisitionsof the speculative in all ages. The subject of the former indeed is man, already endowed with his greatest force of body, and arrived at theexercise of his intellectual powers: the subject of the latter is man, as yet shut up in the feebleness of childhood, and the imbecility ofinexperience. Civil society is great and unlimited in its extent; thetime has been, when the whole known world was in a manner united in onecommunity: but the sphere of education has always been limited. It isfor nations to produce the events, that enchant the imagination, andennoble the page of history: infancy must always pass away in theunimportance of mirth, and the privacy of retreat. That governmenthowever is a theme so much superior to education, is not perhaps soevident, as we may at first imagine. 

It is indeed wider in its extent, but it is infinitely less absolute inits power. The state of society is incontestibly artificial; the powerof one man over another must be always derived from convention, or fromconquest; by nature we are equal. The necessary consequence is, thatgovernment must always depend upon the opinion of the governed. Let themost oppressed people under heaven once change their mode of thinking, and they are free. But the inequality of parents and children is the lawof our nature, eternal and uncontrolable. --Government is very limited inits power of making men either virtuous or happy; it is only in theinfancy of society that it can do any thing considerable; in itsmaturity it can only direct a few of our outward actions. But our moraldispositions and character depend very much, perhaps entirely, uponeducation. --Children indeed are weak and imbecil; but it is theimbecility of spring, and not that of autumn; the imbecility that vergestowards power, and not that is already exhausted with performance. Tobehold heroism in its infancy, and immortality in the bud, must be amost attractive object. To mould those pliant dispositions, upon whichthe happiness of multitudes may one day depend, must be infinitelyimportant. 

Proportionable to what we have stated to be the importance of thesubject, is the attention that has been afforded it in the republic ofletters. The brightest wits, and the profoundest philosophers haveemulated each other in their endeavours to elucidate so valuable atheme. In vain have pedants urged the stamp of antiquity, and theapprobation of custom; there is scarcely the scheme so visionary, theexecution of which has not at some time or other been attempted. Of thewriters upon this interesting subject, he perhaps that has produced themost valuable treatise is Rousseau. If men of equal abilities haveexplored this ample field, I know of none, however, who have sothoroughly investigated the first principles of the science, or who havetreated it so much at large. If he have indulged to a thousand agreeablevisions, and wandered in the pursuit of many a specious paradox, he hashowever richly repaid us for this defect, by the profoundest researches, and the most solid discoveries. 

I have borrowed so many of my ideas from this admirable writer, that Ithought it necessary to make this acknowledgement in the outset. Thelearned reader will readily perceive, that if I have not scrupled toprofit from his discoveries, at least I have freely and largelydissented from him, where he appeared to me to wander from the path oftruth. For my own part, I am persuaded that it can only be by strikingoff something of inflexibility from his system, and something ofpedantry from the common one, that we can expect to furnish a medium, equally congenial to the elegance of civilization, and the manliness ofvirtue. 

In pursuance of these principles it shall be my first business toenquire, whether or not the languages ought to make any part of aperfect system of education; and if they ought, at what time they shouldbe commenced. The study of them does indeed still retain its ground inour public schools and universities. But it has received a rude shockfrom some writers of the present age; nor has any attack been moreformidable, than that of the author of Emile. Let us endeavour toexamine the question, neither with the cold prejudice of antiquity onthe one hand; nor on the other, with the too eager thirst of novelty, and unbounded admiration of the geniuses, by whom it has been attacked. 

When we look back to the venerable ancients, we behold a class ofwriters, if not of a much higher rank, at least of a very differentcharacter, from the moderns. One natural advantage they indisputablypossessed. The field of nature was all their own. It had not yet beenblasted by any vulgar breath, or touched with a sacrilegious hand. Itsfairest flowers had not been culled, and its choicest sweets rifledbefore them. As they were not encumbered and hedged in with themultitude of their predecessors, they did not servilely borrow theirknowledge from books; they read it in the page of the universe. Theystudied nature in all her romantic scenes, and all her secret haunts. They studied men in the various ranks of society, and in differentnations of the world. I might add to this several other advantages. Ofthese the noble freedom of mind that was characteristic of therepublicans of Greece and Rome, and that has scarcely any parallel amongourselves, would not be the least. 

Agreeably to these advantages, they almost every where, particularlyamong the Greeks, bear upon them the stamp of originality. All copiesare feeble and unmarked. They sacrifice the plainness of nature to thegaudiness of ornament, and the tinsel of wit. But the ancients are fullof a noble and affecting simplicity. By one touch of nature andobservation they paint a scene more truly, than their successors areable to do in whole wire-drawn pages. In description they areunequalled. Their eloquence is fervent, manly and sonorous. Theirthoughts are just, natural, independent and profound. The pathos ofVirgil, and the sublimity of Homer, have never been surpassed. And astheir knowledge was not acquired in learned indolence, they knew how tojoin the severest application with the brightest genius. Accordingly intheir style they have united simplicity, eloquence and harmony, in amanner of which the moderns have seldom had even an idea. Thecorrectness of a Caesar, and the sonorous period of a Cicero; themajesty of a Virgil, and the politeness of a Horace, are such as noliving language can express. 

It is the remark of a certain old-fashioned writer, "The form of theworld passeth away. " A century or two ago the greatest wits were knownto have pathetically lamented, that the writers, of whose merits I havebeen speaking, were handed down to us in so mutilated a condition. Nowit seems very probable, that, if their works were totally annihilated, it would scarcely call forth a sigh from the refined geniuses of thepresent age. It is certainly very possible to carry the passion forantiquity to a ridiculous extreme. No man can reasonably deny, that itis by us only that the true system of the universe has been ascertained, and that we have made very valuable improvements upon many of the arts. No man can question that some of our English poets have equalled theancients in sublimity, and that, to say the least, our neighbours, theFrench, have emulated the elegance of their composition in a manner, that is very far indeed from contempt. From these concessions however weare by no means authorised to infer their inutility. 

But I shall be told that in the first revival of letters the study ofthe ancient languages might indeed be very proper; but since that timewe have had so many excellent truncations of every thing they contain, that to waste the time, and exhaust the activity of our youth in thelearning of Latin and Greek, is to very little purpose indeed. Translation! what a strange word! To me I confess it appears the mostunaccountable invention, that ever entered into the mind of man. Todistil the glowing conceptions, and to travesty the beautiful languageof the ancients, through the medium of a language estranged to all itspeculiarities and all its elegancies. The best thoughts and expressionsof an author, those that distinguish one writer from another, areprecisely those that are least capable of being translated. And who arethe men we are to employ in this promising business? Original geniusdisdains the unmeaning drudgery. A mind that has one feature resemblingthe ancients, will scarcely stoop to be their translator. The personsthen, to whom the performance must be committed, are persons of coolelegance. Endowed with a little barren taste, they must be inanimateenough to tread with laborious imbecility in the footsteps of another. They must be eternally incapable of imbibing the spirit, and glowingwith the fire of their original. But we shall seldom come off so well asthis. The generality of translators are either on the one hand merepedants and dealers in words, who, understanding the grammaticalconstruction of a period, never gave themselves the trouble to enquire, whether it conveyed either sentiment or instruction; or on the otherhand mere writers for hire, the retainers of a bookseller, men whotranslate Homer from the French, and Horace out of Creech. 

Let it not be said that I am now talking at random. Let us descend toexamples. We need not be afraid of instancing in the most favourable. Ibelieve it is generally allowed that Mr. Pope's Iliad is the very bestversion that was ever made out of one language into another. It must beconfessed to exhibit very many poetical beauties. As a trial of skill, as an instance of what can be effected upon so forlorn a hope, it mustever be admired. But were I to search for a true idea of the style andcomposition of Homer, I think I should rather recur to the verbaltranslation in the margin of the original, than to the version of Pope. Homer is the simplest and most unaffected of poets. Of all the writersof elegance and taste that ever existed, his translator is the mostornamented. We acknowledge Homer by his loose and flowing robe, thatdoes not constrain a muscle of his frame. But Pope presents himself inthe close and ungraceful habit of modern times;

 "Glittering with gems, and stiff with woven gold. "

No, let us for once conduct ourselves with honesty and generosity. If wewill not study the ancients in their own nervous and manly page, let usclose their volumes for ever. I had rather, says the amiable philosopherof Chaeronea, it should be said of me, that there never was such a manas Plutarch, than that Plutarch was ill-natured, arbitrary, andtyrannical. And were I the bard of Venusia, sure I am, I had rather beentirely forgotten, than not be known for the polite, the spirited, andthe elegant writer I really was. 

To converse with the accomplished, is the obvious method by which tobecome accomplished ourselves. This general observation is equallyapplicable to the study of polite writers of our own and of othercountries. But there are some reasons, upon account of which we mayexpect to derive a more perceptible advantage from the ancients. Theycarried the art of composition to greater heights than any of themoderns. Their writers were almost universally of a higher rank insociety, than ours. There did not then exist the temptation of gain tospur men on to the profession of an author. An industrious modern willproduce twenty volumes, in the time that Socrates employed to polish oneoration. 

Another argument flows from the simple circumstance of their writing ina different language. Of all the requisites to the attainment either ofa style of our own, or a discernment in that of others, the first isgrammar. Without this, our ideas must be always vague and desultory. Respecting the delicacies of composition, we may guess, but we can neverdecide and demonstrate. Now, of the minutiae of grammar, scarcely anyman ever attained a just knowledge, who was acquainted with only onelanguage. And if the study of others be the surest, I will venture alsoto pronounce it the easiest method for acquiring a mastery in philology. 

From what has been said, I shall consider this conclusion assufficiently established, that the languages ought at some time to belearned by him who would form to himself a perfect character. I proceedto my second enquiry, at what time the study of them should becommenced? And here I think this to be the best general answer: at theage of ten years. 

In favour of so early a period one reason may be derived from what Ihave just been mentioning. The knowledge of more languages than one, isalmost an indispensible prerequisite to the just understanding either ofthe subject of grammar in particular, or of that of style in general. Now if the cultivation of elegance and propriety be at all important, itcannot be entered upon too soon, provided the ideas are alreadycompetent to the capacity of the pupil. The Roman Cornelia, who neversuffered a provincial accent, or a grammatical barbarism in the hearingof her children, has always been cited with commendation; and thesubsequent rhetorical excellence of the Gracchi has been in a greatdegree ascribed to it. Fluency, purity and ease are to be acquired byinsensible degrees: and against habits of this kind I apprehend therecan be no objection. 

Another argument of still greater importance is, that the knowledge oflanguages has scarcely ever been mastered, but by those, thecommencement of whose acquaintance with them was early. To be acquaintedwith any science slightly and superficially, can in my opinion beproductive of little advantage. But such an acquaintance with languagesmust be very useless indeed. What benefit can it be expected that weshould derive from an author, whom we cannot peruse with facility andpleasure? The study of such an author will demand a particular strengthof resolution, and aptitude of humour. He can scarcely become thefavourite companion of our retirement, and the never-failing solace ofour cares. Something of slow and saturnine must be the necessaryaccompaniment of that disposition, that can conquer the difficulties ofsuch a pursuit. And accordingly we find that the classics and the schoolare generally quitted together, even by persons of taste, who have notacquired a competent mastery of them in their course of education. Veryfew indeed have been those, who, estranged to the languages till the ageof manhood, have after that period obtained such a familiarity withthem, as could ever be productive of any considerable advantage. 

Brutes and savages are totally unacquainted with lassitude and spleen, the lust of variety, and the impatience of curiosity. In a state ofsociety our ideas habitually succeed in a certain proportion, and anemployment that retards their progress, speedily becomes disagreeableand tedious. But children, not having yet felt this effect ofcivilization, are not susceptible to this cause of disgust. They areendowed with a pliableness and versatility of mind, that with a littleattention and management may easily be turned to any pursuit. Theirunderstandings not yet preoccupied, they have a singular facility ofapprehending, and strength of retention. It is certain this pliablenessand facility are very liable to abuse. It is not easy to believe, thatthey were given to learn words without meaning; terms of art, notunderstood by the pupil; the systems of theologians, and the jargon ofmetaphysics. But then neither were they given without a capacity ofbeing turned to advantage. And it should seem that it could not be avery fallacious antidote to abuse, to confine our instructions to suchkinds of knowledge, as are of the highest importance, and are seldomlearned with success, and even scarcely attainable, at any other period. 

Let it be observed that I have not fixed upon the age of ten years atrandom. It is the observation of Rousseau; Both children and men areessentially feeble. Children, because however few be their wants, theyare unable to supply them. Men, in a state of society, because whateverbe their absolute strength, the play of the imagination renders theirdesires yet greater. There is an intermediate period, in which ourpowers having made some progress, and the artificial and imaginary wantsbeing unknown, we are relatively strong. And this he represents as theprincipal period of instruction. This remark is indeed still morestriking, when applied to a pupil, the progress of whose imagination issedulously retarded. But it is not destitute either of truth or utilityin the most general application we can possibly give it. Let it beobserved, that Rousseau fixes the commencement of this period at twelveyears. I would choose to take it at ten. 

However we may find it convenient to distribute the productions ofnature into classes, and her operations into epochas, yet let it beremembered, that her progress is silent and imperceptible. Between aperfect animal and vegetable, the distinction is of the highest order. Between distant periods we may remark the most important differences. But the gradations of nature are uninterrupted. Of her chain every linkis compleat. As therefore I shall find in commencing at ten years, thatmy time will be barely sufficient for the purposes to which I wouldappropriate it, I consider this circumstance as sufficient to determinemy election. A youth of ten years is omnipotent, if we contrast him witha youth of eight. 

But if the languages constitute so valuable a part of a just system ofeducation, the next question is, in what manner they are to be taught. Indeed, I believe, if the persons employed in the business of educationhad taken half the pains to smooth the access to this department ofliterature, that they have employed to plant it round with briars andthorns, its utility and propriety, in the view we are now consideringit, would scarcely have been questioned. 

There is something necessarily disgusting in the forms of grammar. Grammar therefore is made in our public schools the business of atwelvemonth. Rules are heaped upon rules with laborious stupidity. Torender them the more formidable, they are presented to our youth in thevery language, the first principles of which they are designed to teach. For my own part, I am persuaded the whole business of grammar may bedispatched in a fortnight. I would only teach the declensions of nouns, and the inflexions of verbs. For the rest, nothing is so easilydemonstrated, as that the auxiliary sciences are best communicated inconnection with their principals. Chronology, geography, are never sothoroughly understood, as by him that treats them literally as thehandmaids of history. He, who is instructed in Latin with clearness andaccuracy, will never be at a loss for the rules of grammar. 

But to complete the disgust we seem so careful to inspire, the learnedlanguages are ever surrounded with the severity verity of discipline;and it would probably be thought little short of sacrilege to discomposetheir features with a smile. Such a mode of proceeding can never besufficiently execrated. 

Indeed, I shall be told, "this is the time to correct the native vicesof the mind. In childhood the influence of pain and mortification iscomparatively trifling. What then can be more judicious than toaccumulate upon this period, what must otherwise fall with tenfoldmischief upon the age of maturity?" In answer to this reasoning, let itbe first considered, how many there are, who by the sentence of natureare called out of existence, before they can live to reap these boastedadvantages. Which of you is there, that has not at some time regrettedthat age, in which a smile is ever upon the countenance, and peace andserenity at the bottom of the heart? How is it you can consent todeprive these little innocents of an enjoyment, that slides so fastaway? How is it you can find in your heart to pall these fleeting yearswith bitterness and slavery? The undesigning gaiety of youth has thestrongest claim upon your humanity. There is not in the world a truerobject of pity, than a child terrified at every glance, and watching, with anxious uncertainty, the caprices of a pedagogue. If he survive, the liberty of manhood is dearly bought by so many heart aches. And ifhe die, happy to escape your cruelty, the only advantage he derives fromthe sufferings you have inflicted, is that of not regretting a life, ofwhich he knew nothing but the torments. 

But who is it that has told you, that the certain, or even the probableconsequences of this severity are beneficial? Nothing is so easilyproved, as that the human mind is pure and spotless, as it came from thehands of God, and that the vices of which you complain, have their realsource in those shallow and contemptible precautions, that you pretendto employ against them. Of all the conditions to which we are incident, there is none so unpropitious to whatever is ingenuous and honourable, as that of a slave. It plucks away by the root all sense of dignity, andall manly confidence. In those nations of antiquity, most celebrated forfortitude and heroism, their youth had never their haughty andunsubmitting neck bowed to the inglorious yoke of a pedagogue. To borrowthe idea of that gallant assertor of humanity, sir Richard Steele: Iwill not say that our public schools have not produced many great andillustrious characters; but I will assert, there was not one of thosecharacters, that would not have been more manly and venerable, if theyhad never been subjected to this vile and sordid condition. 

Having thus set aside the principal corruptions of modern education, thedevising methods for facilitating the acquisition of languages will notbe difficult. The first books put into the hands of a pupil should besimple, interesting, and agreeable. By their means, he will perceive areasonableness and a beauty in the pursuit. If he be endowed by naturewith a clear understanding, and the smallest propensity to literature, he will need very little to stimulate him either from hope or fear. 

Attentive to the native gaiety of youth, the periods, in which hisattention is required, though frequent in their returns, should in theirduration be short and inoppressive. The pupil should do nothing merelybecause he is seen or heard by his preceptor. If he have companions, still nothing more is requisite, than that degree of silence and order, which shall hinder the attention of any from being involuntarilydiverted. The pupil has nothing to conceal, and no need of falsehood. The approbation of the preceptor respects only what comes directly underhis cognizance, and cannot be disguised. Even here, remembering thevolatility and sprightliness, inseparable from the age, humanity willinduce him not to animadvert with warmth upon the appearances of acasual distraction, but he will rather solicit the return of attentionby gentleness, than severity. 

But of all rules, the most important is that of preserving an uniform, even tenour of conduct. Into the government of youth passion and capriceshould never enter. The gentle yoke of the preceptor should beconfounded as much as possible, with the eternal laws of nature andnecessity. The celebrated maxim of republican government should beadopted here. The laws should speak, and the magistrate be silent. Theconstitution should be for ever unchangeable and independent of thecharacter of him that administers it. 

Nothing can certainly be more absurd than the attempt to educatechildren by reason. We may be sure they will treat every determinationas capricious, that shocks their inclination. The _chef d'oeuvre_ of agood education is to form a reasonable human being; and yet they pretendto govern a child by argument and ratiocination. This is to enter uponthe work at the wrong end, and to endeavour to convert the fabric itselfinto one of the tools by which it is constructed. The laws of thepreceptor ought to be as final and inflexible, as they are mild andhumane. 

There is yet another method for facilitating the acquisition oflanguages, so just in itself, and so universally practicable, that Icannot forbear mentioning it. It is that of commencing with the modernlanguages, French for instance in this country. These in the educationof our youth, are universally postponed to what are stiled the learnedlanguages. I shall perhaps be told that modern tongues being in a greatmeasure derived from the Latin, the latter is very properly to beconsidered as introductory to the former. But why then do we not adoptthe same conduct in every instance? Why to the Latin do we not premisethe Greek, and to the Greek the Coptic and Oriental tongues? Or how longsince is it, that the synthetic has been proved so much superior to theanalytic mode of instruction? In female education, the modern languagesare taught without all this preparation; nor do I find that our fairrivals are at all inferior to the generality of our sex in theirproficiency. With the youth of sense and spirit of both sexes, thelearning of French is usually considered, rather as a pleasure, than aburden. Were the Latin communicated in the same mild and accommodatingmanner, I think I may venture to pronounce, that thus taken in thesecond place, there will be no great difficulty in rendering it equallyattractive. 

I would just observe that there is an obvious propriety in the Frenchlanguage being learned under the same direction, as the Latin and Greek. The pursuit of this elegant accomplishment ought at no time to beentirely omitted. But the attention of youth is distracted between themethod of different masters, and their amiable confidence, in thedirection under which they are placed, entirely ruined by mutability andinconstance. The same observation may also be applied here, as in thelearned languages. The attention of the pupil should be confined as muchas possible to the most classical writers; and the French would furnisha most useful subsidiary in a course of history. Let me add, that thoughI have prescribed the age of ten years, as the most eligible for thecommencement of classical education, I conceive there would be noimpropriety in taking up the modern language so early as nine. 

Such then is the kind of subjection, that the learning of languagesdemands. The question that recurs upon us is; How far this subjectionmay fairly be considered as exceptionable, and whether its beneficialconsequences do not infinitely outweigh the trifling inconveniences thatmay still be ascribed to it?

But there is another subject that demands our consideration. Moderneducation not only corrupts the heart of our youth, by the rigid slaveryto which it condemns them, it also undermines their reason, by theunintelligible jargon with which they are overwhelmed in the firstinstance, and the little attention, that is given to the accommodatingtheir pursuits to their capacities in the second. 

Nothing can have a greater tendency to clog and destroy the nativeactivity of the mind, than the profuseness with which the memory ofchildren is loaded, by nurses, by mothers, by masters. What can morecorrupt the judgment, than the communicating, without measure, andwithout end, words entirely devoid of meaning? What can have a moreridiculous influence upon our taste, than for the first verses to whichour attention is demanded, to consist of such strange and uncouthjargon? To complete the absurdity, and that we may derive all thatelegance and refinement from the study of languages, that it iscalculated to afford, our first ideas of Latin are to be collected fromsuch authors, as Corderius, Erasmus, Eutropius, and the Selectae. Tobegin indeed with the classical writers, is not the way to smooth thepath of literature. I am of opinion however, that one of theabove-mentioned authors will be abundantly sufficient. Let it beremembered, that the passage from the introductory studies to thoseauthors, that form the very essence of the language, will be muchfacilitated by the previous acquisition of the French. 

Having spoken of the article of memory, let me be permitted to mentionthe practice, that has of late gained so great a vogue; the instructingchildren in the art of spouting and acting plays. Of all the qualitiesincident to human nature, the most universally attractive is simplicity, the most disgusting is affectation. Now what idea has a child of thepassions of a hero, and the distresses of royalty? But he is taught themost vehement utterance, and a thousand constrained cadences, withoutits being possible that he should see in them, either reasonableness orpropriety. 

I would not have a child required to commit any thing to memory morethan is absolutely necessary. If, however, he be a youth of spirit, hewill probably learn some things in this manner, and the sooner becauseit is not expected of him. It will be of use for him to repeat thesewith a grave and distinct voice, accommodated to those cadences, whichthe commas, the periods, and the notes of interrogation, marked in hisauthor, may require, but without the smallest instruction to humour thegay, or to sadden the plaintive. 

Another article, that makes a conspicuous figure in the education of ouryouth, is composition. Before they are acquainted with the truedifference between verse and prose, before they are prepared to decideupon the poetical merit of Lily and Virgil, they are called upon towrite Latin verse themselves. In the same manner some of their firstprose compositions are in a dead language. An uniform, petty, ridiculousscheme is laid down, and within that scheme all their thoughts are to becircumscribed. 

Composition is certainly a desirable art, and I think can scarcely beentered upon too soon. It should be one end after which I wouldendeavour, and the mode of effecting it will be farther illustrated inthe sequel, to solicit a pupil to familiarity, and to induce him todisclose his thoughts upon such subjects as were competent to hiscapacity, in an honest and simple manner. After having thus warmed himby degrees, it might be proper to direct him to write down his thoughts, without any prescribed method, in the natural and spontaneous manner, inwhich they flowed from his mind. Thus the talk of throwing hisreflections upon paper would be facilitated to him, and his stylegradually formed, without teaching him any kind of restraint andaffectation. To the reader who enters at all into my ideas upon thesubject, it were needless to subjoin, that I should never think ofputting a youth upon the composition of verse. 

From all I have said it will be sufficiently evident, that it would be aconstant object with me to model my instructions to the capacity of mypupil. They are books, that beyond all things teach us to talk withoutthinking, and use words without meaning. To this evil there can be nocomplete remedy. But shall we abolish literature, because it is notunaccompanied with inconveniencies? Shall we return to a state of savageignorance, because all the advantages of civilization have theirattendant disadvantages?

The only remedy that can be applied, is to accustom ourselves to clearand accurate investigation. To prefer, whereever we can have recourse toit, the book of nature to any human composition. To begin with thelatter as late as may be consistent with the most important purposes ofeducation. And when we do begin, so to arrange our studies, as that wemay commence with the simplest and easiest sciences, and proportion ourprogress to the understanding of the pupil. 

With respect to grammar in particular, the declensions of nouns, and theinflexions of verbs, we may observe, that to learn words to whichabsolutely no ideas are affixed, is not to learn to think loosely, andto believe without being convinced. These certainly can never corruptthe mind. And I suppose no one will pretend, that to learn grammar, isto be led to entertain inaccurate notions of the subjects, about whichit is particularly conversant. On the contrary, the ideas of grammar areexceedingly clear and accurate. It has, in my opinion, all thoseadvantages, by which the study of geometry is usually recommended, without any of its disadvantages. It tends much to purge theunderstanding, to render it close in its investigations, and sure in itsdecisions. It introduces more easily and intelligibly than mathematicalscience, that most difficult of all the mental operations, abstraction. It imperceptibly enlarges our conceptions, and generalises our ideas. 

But if to read its authors, be the most valuable purpose of learning alanguage, the grammar will not be sufficient. Other books will benecessary. And how shall these be chosen, so as not to leave behind usthe understanding of our pupil? Shall we introduce him first to thesublime flights of Virgil, the philosophical investigations of a Cicero, or the refined elegance and gay satire of Horace? Alas! if thusintroduced unprepared to the noblest heights of science, how can it beexpected that his understanding should escape the shipwreck, and everyatom of common sense not be dashed and scattered ten thousand ways?

The study then I would here introduce, should be that of history. Andthat this study is not improper to the age with which I connect it, isthe second point I would endeavour to demonstrate. 

But is history, I shall be asked, the study so proper for uninstructedminds? History, that may in some measure be considered as concentring initself the elements of all other sciences? History, by which we areinformed of the rise and progress of every art, and by whose testimonythe comparative excellence of every art is ascertained? History, thevery testimony of which is not to be admitted, without the previoustrial of metaphysical scrutiny, and philosophic investigation? Lastly, History, that is to be considered as a continual illustration of thearts of fortification and tactics; but above all of politics, with itsvarious appendages, commerce, manufacture, finances?

To all this, I calmly answer, No: it is not history in any of theseforms, that constitutes the science to which I would direct theattention of my pupil. Of the utility of the history of arts andsciences, at least, as a general study, I have no very high opinion. Butwere my opinion ever so exalted, I should certainly chuse to postponethis study for the present. I should have as little to do with tacticsand fortification. I would avoid as much as possible the very subject ofwar. Politics, commerce, finances, might easily be deferred. I wouldkeep far aloof from the niceties of chronology, and the dispute offacts. I would not enter upon the study of history through the medium ofepitome. I would even postpone the general history of nations, to thecharacter and actions of particular men. 

Many of the articles I have mentioned, serve to compose the pedantry ofhistory. Than history, no science has been more abused. It has beenstudied from ostentation; it has been studied with the narrow views oflittle minds; it has been warped to serve a temporary purpose. Ingeniousart has hung it round with a thousand subtleties, and a thousanddisputes. The time has at length arrived, when it requires an erectunderstanding, and a penetrating view, above the common rate, todiscover the noble purposes, which this science is most immediatelycalculated to subserve. 

In a word, the fate of history has been like that of travelling. Theinstitution has been preserved, but its original use is lost. One mantravels from fashion, and another from pride. One man travels to measurebuildings, another to examine pictures, and a third perhaps to learn todance. Scarcely any remember that its true application is to study menand manners. Perhaps a juster idea cannot be given of the science we areconsidering, than that which we may deduce from a reflection ofRousseau. "The ancient historians, " says he, "are crowded with thoseviews of things, from which we may derive the utmost utility, eventhough the facts that suggest them, should be mistaken. But we areunskilled to derive any real advantage from history. The critique oferudition absorbs every thing; as if it imported us much whether therelation were true, provided we could extract from it any usefulinduction. Men of sense ought to regard history as a tissue of fables, whose moral is perfectly adapted to the human heart. "

The mere external actions of men are not worth the studying: Who wouldhave ever thought of going through a course of history, if the sciencewere comprised in a set of chronological tables? No: it is the hearts ofmen we should study. It is to their actions, as expressive ofdisposition and character, we should attend. But by what is it that wecan be advanced thus far, but by specious conjecture, and plausibleinference? The philosophy of a Sallust, and the sagacity of a Tacitus, can only advance us to the regions of probability. But whatever be themost perfect mode of historical composition, it is to the simplestwriters that our youth should be first introduced, writers equallydistant from the dry detail of Du Fresnoy, and the unrivalled eloquenceof a Livy. The translation of Plutarch would, in my opinion, form thebest introduction. As he is not a writer of particular elegance, hesuffers less from a version, than many others. The Roman revolutions ofVertot might very properly fill the second place. Each of these writershas this further recommendation, that, at least, in the former part oftheir works, they treat of that simplicity and rectitude of manners ofthe first Greeks and Romans, that furnish the happiest subject that canbe devised for the initiating youth in the study of history. 

Under the restrictions I have laid down, history is of all sciences themost simple. It has been ever considered by philosophers, as the porchof knowledge. It has ever been treated by men of literature, as therelaxation of their feverer pursuits. It leads directly to the mostimportant of all attainments, the knowledge of the heart. It introducesus, without expence, and without danger, to an acquaintance with mannersand society. By the most natural advances it points us forward to allthe depths of science. With the most attractive blandishments it formsus by degrees to an inextinguishable thirst of literature. 

But there is still an objection remaining, and that the most importantof all. Let history be stripped as much as you will of every extraneouscircumstance, let it be narrowed to the utmost simplicity, there isstill one science previously necessary. It is that of morals. If you seenothing in human conduct, but purely the exterior and physicalmovements, what is it that history teaches? Absolutely nothing; and thescience devoid of interest, becomes incapable of affording eitherpleasure or instruction. We may add, that the more perfectly it is madea science of character and biography, the more indispensible is ethicalexamination. But to such an examination it has been doubted whether theunderstandings of children be competent. Upon this question I will begleave to say a few words, and I have done. 

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that I do not speak here of ethicsas an abstract science, but simply as it relates to practice, and theoeconomy of human life. Our enquiry therefore is respecting the time atwhich that intuitive faculty is generally awakened, by which we decideupon the differences of virtue and vice, and are impelled to applaud theone, and condemn the other. 

The moment in which the faculty of memory begins to unfold itself, theman begins to exist as a moral being. Not long posterior to this, is thecommencement of prescience and foresight. Rousseau has told us, in hisanimated language, that if a child could escape a whipping, or obtain apaper of sweetmeats, by promising to throw himself out at windowtomorrow, the promise would instantly be made. Nothing is more contraryto experience than this. It is true, death, or any such evils, of whichhe has no clear conception, do not strongly affect him in prospect. Butby the view of that which is palpable and striking, he is as muchinfluenced as any man, however extensive his knowledge, however largehis experience. It is only by seizing upon the activity and earnestnessincident to youthful pursuits, and totally banishing the idea of what isfuture, that we can destroy its influence. Their minds, like a sheet ofwhite paper, are susceptible to every impression. Their brain, uncroudedwith a thousand confused traces, is a cause, that every impression theyreceive is strong and durable. 

The aera of foresight is the aera of imagination, and imagination is thegrand instrument of virtue. The mind is the seat of pleasure and pain. It is not by what we see, but by what we infer and suppose, that we aretaught, that any being is the object of commiseration. It is by theconstant return of the mind to the unfortunate object, that we arestrongly impressed with sympathy. Hence it is that the too frequentrecurrence of objects of distress, at the same time that it blunts theimagination, renders the heart callous and obdurate. 

The sentiment that the persons about us have life and feeling as well asourselves, cannot be of very late introduction. It may be forwarded bycultivation, but it can scarcely at any rate be very much retarded. Forthis sentiment to become perfectly clear and striking, and to be appliedin every case that may come before us, must undoubtedly be an affairgradual in its progress. From thence to the feelings of right and wrong, of compassion and generosity, there is but one step. 

It has, I think, been fully demonstrated by that very elegantphilosopher Mr. Hutcheson, that self-love is not the source of all ourpassions, but that disinterested benevolence has its seat in the humanheart. At present it is necessary for me to take this for granted. Thediscussion would lead me too far from my subject. What I would inferfrom it is, that benevolent affections are capable of a very earlycommencement. They do not wait to be grafted upon the selfish. They havethe larger scope in youthful minds, as such have not yet learned thoserefinements of interest, that are incident to persons of longerexperience. 

Accordingly no observation is more common, than that mankind are moregenerous in the earlier periods of their life, and that their affectionsbecome gradually contracted the farther they advance in the vale ofyears. Confidence, kindness, benevolence, constitute the entire temperof youth. And unless these amiable dispositions be blasted in the bud bythe baneful infusions of ambition, vanity and pride, there is nothingwith which they would not part, to cherish adversity, and remuneratefavour. 

Hence we may infer, that the general ideas of merit and character areperfectly competent to the understanding of children of ten years. Falseglory is the farthest in the world from insinuating its witchcraft intothe undepraved heart, where the vain and malignant passions have not yeterected their standard. It is true, the peculiar sublimities of heroismcannot be supposed perfectly within his comprehension. But something ofthis sort, as we have already said, is incident to every step in thescale of literature. 

But the more perfectly to familiarise to my pupil the understanding anddigesting whatever he read, I would consider it as an indispensible partof my business, to talk over with him familiarly the subjects, thatmight necessarily demand our attention. I would lead him by degrees torelate with clearness and precision the story of his author. I wouldinduce him to deliver his fair and genuine sentiments upon every action, and character that came before us. I would frequently call upon him fora plain and simple reason for his opinion. This should always be doneprivately, without ostentation, and without rivalship. Thus, separatefrom the danger of fomenting those passions of envy and pride, thatprepare at a distance for our youth so many mortifications, and at theexpence of which too frequently this accomplishment is attained, I wouldtrain him to deliver his opinion upon every subject with freedom, perspicuity and fluency. Without at any time dictating to him thesentiments it became him to entertain, I might, with a little honedartifice, mould his judgment into the form it was most desirable itshould take, at the same time that I discovered his genius, andascertained the original propensities of his mind. 

It is unnecessary for me to say any thing respecting morals in the othersense of the word, I mean as they are connected with the conduct, thehabits of which we should endeavour to cultivate in a pupil; as thatsubject has been already exhausted. The vices of youth spring not fromnature, who is equally the kind and blameless mother of all herchildren; they derive from the defects of education. We have alreadyendeavoured to shut up all the inlets of vice. We have precludedservility and cowardice. We have taken away the motives to concealmentand falshood. By the liberal indulgence we have prescribed, we havelaid the foundation of manly spirit, and generous dignity. A continualattention to history, accompanied with the cultivation of moraldiscernment, and animated with the examples of heroic virtue, could notfail to form the heart of the pupil, to all that is excellent. At thesame time, by assiduous care, the shoots of vanity and envy might becrushed in the bud. Emulation is a dangerous and mistaken principle ofconstancy. Instead of it I would wish to see the connection of pupils, consisting only of pleasure and generosity. They should learn to love, but not to hate each other. Benevolent actions should not directly bepreached to them, they should strictly begin in the heart of theperformer. But when actually done, they should receive the mostdistinguished applause. 

Let me be permitted in this place to observe, that the association of asmall number of pupils seems the most perfect mode of education. Thereis surely something unsuitable to the present state of mankind, in thewishing to educate our youth in perfect solitude. Society calls forth athousand powers both of mind and body, that must otherwise rust ininactivity. And nothing is more clear from experience, than that thereis a certain tendency to moral depravation in very large bodies of thiskind, to which there has not yet been discovered a sufficient remedy. 

If, by the pursuit of principles like these, the powers of theunderstanding and the heart might be developed in concert; if the pupilswere trained at once to knowledge and virtue; if they were enabled tolook back upon the period of their education, without regretting oneinstance of anxious terror, or capricious severity; if they recollectedtheir tutor with gratitude, and thought of their companions, as of thosegenerous friends whom they would wish for the associates of theirlife, --in that case, the pains of the preceptor would not be thrownaway. 

FINIS. 

THE

HERALD OF LITERATURE. 

[PRICE TWO SHILLINGS. ]

THE

HERALD OF LITERATURE;

OR, A REVIEW

OF THE

MOST CONSIDERABLE PUBLICATIONS

THAT WILL BE MADE IN THE

COURSE OF THE ENSUING WINTER:

WITH

EXTRACTS. 

 * * * * *

LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. MURRAY, NO. 32, FLEET-STREET. 

M DCC LXXXIV. 

TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY AND CRITICAL REVIEWS. 

GENTLEMEN, In presenting the following sheets to the public, I hope I shall not beconsidered as encroaching upon that province, which long possession hasprobably taught you to consider as your exclusive right. The labour ithas cost me, and the many perils I have encountered to bring it toperfection, will, I trust, effectually plead my pardon with persons ofyour notorious candour and humanity. Represent to yourselves, Gentlemen, I entreat you, the many false keys, bribes to the lacqueys of authorsthat can keep them, and collusions with the booksellers of authors thatcannot, which were required in the prosecution of this arduousundertaking. Imagine to yourselves how often I have shuddered upon theverge of petty larceny, and how repeatedly my slumbers have beendisturbed with visions of the King's-Bench Prison and ClerkenwellBridewell. You, gentlemen, sit in your easy chair, and with the majestyof a Minos or an Aeacus, summon the trembling culprits to your bar. Butthough you never knew what fear was, recollect, other men have snuffed acandle with their fingers. 

But I would not be misunderstood. Heroical as I trust my undertakingproves me, I fear no man's censure, and court no man's applause. But Ilook up to you as a respectable body of men, who have long united yourefforts to reduce the disproportioned members of an ancient republic toan happy equality, to give wings to the little emmet of Grub-street, andto hew away the excrescences of lawless genius with a hatchet. In thischaracter I honour you. That you have assumed it uncompelled andself-elected, that you have exercised it undazzled by the _ignis fatuus_of genius, is your unfading glory. 

Having thus cleared myself from the suspicion of any sinister view, Icannot here refrain from presenting you with a peace-offering. Had itbeen in my power to procure gums more costly, or incense more fragrant, I would have rendered it more worthy your acceptance. 

It has been a subject upon which I have often reflected withmortification, that the world is too apt to lay aside your lucubrationswith the occasions that gave birth to them, and that if they are everopened after, it is only with old magazines by staid matrons over theirwinter fire. Such persons are totally incapable of comparing yoursentences with the maturer verdict of the public; a comparison thatwould redound so much to your honour. What I design at present, is insome measure to remedy an evil, that can never perhaps be entirelyremoved. As the field which is thus opened to me is almost unbounded, Iwill confine myself to two of the most striking examples, in TristramShandy, and the Rosciad of Churchill. 

In the Monthly Review, vol. 24, p, 103, I find these words:

"But your indiscretion, good Mr. Tristram, is not all we complain of inthe volumes before us. We must tax you with what you will dread abovethe most terrible of all insinuations--nothing less than DULLNESS. Yes, indeed, Mr. Tristram, you are dull, _very dull_. Your jaded fancy seemsto have been exhausted by two pigmy octavos, which scarce contained thesubstance of a twelve-penny pamphlet, and we now find nothing new toentertain us. "

The following epithets are selected at random. "We are sick--we arequite tired--we can no longer bear corporal Trim'sinsipidity--thread-bare--stupid and unaffecting--absolutelydull--misapplication of talents--he will unavoidably sink intocontempt. "

The Critical Review, vol II, p. 212, has the following account of theRosciad:

 "It is _natural_ for young authors to conceive themselves the cleverest fellows in the world, and withal, that there is not the least degree of merit subsisting but in their own works: It is _natural_ likewise for them to imagine, that they may conceal themselves by appearing in different shapes, and that they are not to be found out by their stile; but little do these _Connoisseurs_ in writing conceive, how easily they are discovered by a veteran in the service. In the title-page to this performance we are told (by way of quaint conceit), that it was written by _the author_; what if it should prove that the Author and the Actor[A] are the same! Certain it is that we meet with the _same_ vein of peculiar humour, the same turn of thought, the same _autophilism_ (there's a new word for you to bring into the next poem) which we meet with in the other; insomuch that we are ready to make the conclusion in the author's own words:

 [Footnote A: _The Actor, a Poem, by Robert Lloyd, Esq. _]

 Who is it?------LLOYD. 

 "We will not pretend however absolutely to assert that Mr. L---- wrote this poem; but we may venture to affirm, that it is the production, jointly or separately, of the new triumvirate of wits, who never let an opportunity slip of singing their own praises. _Caw me, caw thee_, as Sawney says, and so to it they go, and _scratch_ one another like so many Scotch pedlars. "

In page 339, I find a passage referred to in the Index, under the headof "a notable instance of their candour, " retracting their insinuationsagainst Lloyd and Colman, and ascribing the poem in a particular vein ofpleasantry to Mr. Flexney, the bookseller, and Mr. Griffin, the printer. Candour certainly did not require that they should acknowledge Mr. Churchill, whose name was now inserted in the title-page, as the author, or if author of any, at least not of a considerable part of the poem. That this was their sense of the matter, appears from their account ofthe apology for the Rosciad, p. 409. 

"This is another _Brutum Fulinen_ launched at the Critical Review by oneChurchill, who it seems is a clergyman, and it must be owned has a knackat versification; a bard, who upon the strength of having written a fewgood lines in a thing called _The Rosciad_, swaggers about as if he weregame-keeper of Parnassus. "

P. 410. "This apologist has very little reason to throw out behindagainst the Critical Reviewers, who in mentioning _The Rosciad_, ofwhich he calls himself author, commended it in the lump, withoutspecifying the bald lines, the false thoughts, and tinsel frippery fromwhich it is not entirely free. " They conclude with contrasting him withSmollet, in comparison of whom he is "a puny antagonist, who must writemany more poems as good as the Rosciad, before he will be considered asa respectable enemy. "

Upon these extracts I will beg leave to make two observations. 

1. Abstracted from all consideration of the profundity of criticism thatis displayed, no man can avoid being struck with the humour andpleasantry in which they are conceived, or the elegant and gentlemanlikelanguage in which they are couched. What can be more natural or moreingenuous than to suppose that the persons principally commended in awork, were themselves the writers of it? And for that allusion of theScotch pedlars, for my part, I hold it to be inimitable. 

2. But what is most admirable is the independent spirit, with which theystemmed the torrent of fashion, and forestalled the second thoughts oftheir countrymen. There was a time when Tristram Shandy was applauded, and Churchill thought another Dryden. But who reads Tristram now? Thereprevails indeed a certain quaintness, and something "like an affectationof being immoderately witty, throughout the whole work. " But for realhumour not a grain. So said the Monthly Reviewers, (v. 21. P. 568. ) andso says the immortal Knox. Both indeed grant him a slight knack at thepathetic; but, if I may venture a prediction, his pretensions to thelatter will one day appear no better founded, than his pretentions tothe former. 

And then poor Churchill! His satire now appears to be dull andpointless. Through his tedious page no modern student can labour. Welook back, and wonder how the rage of party ever swelled this _thing_into a poet. Even the great constellation, from whose tribunal noprudent man ever appealed, has excluded him from a kingdom, where Wattsand Blackmore reign. But Johnson and Knox can by no means compare withthe Reviewers. These attacked the mountebanks in the very midst of theirshort-lived empire. Those have only brought up the rear of publicopinion, and damned authors already forgotten. They fought the battles asecond time, and "again they slew the slain. "

Gentlemen, It would have been easy to add twenty articles to this list. I mighthave selected instances from the later volumes of your entertainingworks, in which your deviations from the dictates of imaginary taste arestill more numerous. But I could not have confronted them with thedecisive verdict of time. The rage of fashion has not yet ceased, andthe ebullition of blind wonder is not over. I shall therefore leave aplentiful crop for such as come after me, who admire you as much as Ido, and will be contented to labour in the same field. 

I have the honour to be, Gentlemen, With all veneration, Your indefatigable reader, And the humblest of your panegyrists. 

CONTENTS. 

ARTICLE I. 

_The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By EdwardGibbon, Esq. Vols. _ iv, v, vi, vii. 4to. 

ARTICLE II. 

_The History of America. By William Robertson, D. D. &c. Vols. _ iii, _and_ iv. 4to. 

ARTICLE III. 

_Secret History of Theodore Albert Maximilian, Prince of HohenzollernSigmaringen_. 12mo. 

ARTICLE IV. 

_Louisa, or Memoirs of a Lady of Quality. By the Author of Evelina andCecilia. Three vols. _ 12mo. 

ARTICLE V. 

_The Peasant of Bilidelgerid, a Tale. Two vols. Shandean. _

ARTICLE VI. 

_An Essay on Novel, in Three Epistles, inscribed to the Right HonourableLady Craven. By William Hayley, Esq. _ 4to. 

ARTICLE VII. 

_Inkle and Yarico, a Poem. By James Beattie, L. L. D. _ 4to. 

ARTICLE VIII. 

_The Alchymist, a Comedy, altered from Ben Jonson, by Richard BrinsleySheridan, Esq. _

ARTICLE IX. 

_Reflexions upon the present State of the United States of America. ByThomas Paine, M. A. &c. _ 8vo. 

ARTICLE X. 

_Speech of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke, on a Motion for an Addressof Thanks to his Majesty (on the 28th of November, 1783) for hisgracious Communication of a Treaty of Commerce concluded between Georgethe Third, King, &c. And the United States of America. _

THE

HERALD

OF

LITERATURE, &C. 

 * * * * *

ARTICLE I. 

THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. BY EDWARDGIBBON, ESQ. VOLS. IV, V, VI, VII. 4TO. 

We are happy to have it in our power thus early to congratulate thepublic upon the final accomplishment of a work, that must constitute oneof the greatest ornaments of the present age. We have now before us, inone view, and described by the uniform pencil of one historian, thestupendous and instructive object of the gradual decline of the greatestempire; circumscribed by degrees within the narrow walls of a singlecity; and at length, after the various revolutions of thirteencenturies, totally swallowed up in the empire of the Turks. Of thisterm, the events of more than nine hundred years are described in thatpart of our author that now lies before us. It cannot therefore beexpected, that in the narrow limits we have prescribed to ourselves, weshould enter into a regular synopsis of the performance, chapter bychapter, after the laudable example of our more laborious brotherreviewers. We will pay our readers the compliment, however unauthorisedby the venerable seal of custom, of supposing them already informed, that Anastasius succeeded Zeno, and Justin Anastasius; that Justinianpublished the celebrated code that is called by his name; and that hisgenerals, Belisarius and Narses, were almost constantly victorious overthe Barbarians, and restored, for a moment, the expiring lustre of theempire. We shall confine ourselves to two extracts, relating to subjectsof the greatest importance, and which we presume calculated, at once togratify and excite the curiosity of the public. 

The reign of the emperor Heraclius is perhaps more crowded with eventsof the highest consequence, than that of any other prince in the series. It has therefore a proportionable scope allotted it in the plan of Mr. Gibbon; who seems to understand better than almost any historian, whatperiods to sketch with a light and active pen, and upon what to dwellwith minuteness, and dilate his various powers. While we pursue thevarious adventures of Cosroes II. , beginning his reign in a flight fromhis capital city; suing for the protection and support of the Greekemperor; soon after declaring war against the empire; successivelyconquering Mesopotamia, Armenia, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and thegreater part of Natolia; then beaten; a fugitive; and at last murderedby his own son; we are unable to conceive of a story more interesting, or more worthy of our attention. But in contemplating the rife of theSaracen khalifate, and the religion of Mahomet, which immediatelysucceeded these events, we are compelled to acknowledge a moreastonishing object. 

The following is the character of the impostor, as sketched by theaccurate and judicious pencil of our historian. We will leave it to thejudgment of our readers, only observing, that Mr. Gibbon has veryunnecessarily brought Christianity into the comparison; and has perhapstouched the errors of the false prophet with a lighter hand, that thedisparity might be the less apparent. 

 "But Heraclius had a much more formidable enemy to encounter in the latter part of his reign, than the effeminate and divided Persian. This was the new empire of the Saracens. Ingenious and eloquent, temperate and brave, as had been invariably their national character, they had their exertions concentred, and their courage animated by a legislator, whose institutions may vie, in the importance of their consequences, with those of Solon, Lycurgus, or Numa. Though an impostor, he propagated a religion, which, like the elevated and divine principles of Christianity, was confined to no one nation or country; but even embraced a larger portion of the human race than Christianity itself. 

 "Mahomet, the son of Abdallah, was born on the 9th of April, 571, in the city of Mecca. Having been early left an orphan by both parents, he received an hardy and robust education, not tempered by the elegancies of literature, nor much allayed by the indulgencies of natural affection. He was no sooner able to walk, than he was sent naked, with the infant peasantry, to attend the cattle of the village; and was obliged to seek the refreshment of sleep, as well as pursue the occupations of the day, in the open air[A]. He even pretended to be a stranger to the art of writing and reading. But though neglected by those who had the care of his infancy, the youth of this extraordinary personage did not pass away without some of those incidents, which might afford a glimpse of the sublimity of his genius; and some of those prodigies, with which superstition is prompt to adorn the story of the founders of nations, and the conquerors of empires. In the mean time, his understanding was enlarged by travel. It is not to be supposed that he frequented the neighbouring countries, without making some of those profound observations upon the decline of the two great empires of the East and of Persia, which were calculated to expand his views, and to mature his projects. The energies of his mind led him to despise the fopperies of idolatry; and he found the Christians, in the most unfavourable situation, torn into innumerable parties, by the sectaries of Athanasius, Arius, Eutyches, Nestorius. In this situation, he extracted that from every system that bordered most nearly upon the dictates of reason, and framed to himself a sublime doctrine, of which the unity of God, the innocence of moderate enjoyment, the obligation of temperance and munificence, were the leading principles. But it would have contributed little to his purpose, if he had stopped here. Enthusiastically devoted to his extensive designs, and guided by the most consummate art, he pretended to divine communications, related a thousand ridiculous and incredible adventures; and though he constantly refused a prodigy to the importunities of his countrymen, laid claim to several frivolous miracles, and a few thinly scattered prophecies. One of his most artful devices was the delivering the system of his religion, not in one entire code, but in detached essays. This enabled him more than once to new mould the very genius of his religion, without glaringly subjecting himself to the charge of inconsistency. From these fragments, soon after his death, was compiled the celebrated Alcoran. The style of this volume is generally turgid, heavy, monotonous. It is disfigured with childish tales and impossible adventures. But it is frequently figurative, frequently poetical, sometimes sublime. And amidst all its defects, it will remain the greatest of all monuments of uncultivated and illiterate genius. 

 [Footnote A: "Abuleda, Chron. P. 27. Boulainvilliers, Vie de Mahomet, b. Ii. P. 175. This latter writer exhibits the singular phenomenon of the native of a Christian country, unreasonably prejudiced in favour of the Arabian impostor. That he did not live, however, to finish his curious performance, is the misfortune of the republic of letters. " ]

 "The plan was carefully reserved by Mahomet for the mature age of forty years. Thus digested however, and communicated with the nicest art and the most fervid eloquence, he had the mortification to find his converts, at the end of three years, amount to no more than forty persons. But the ardour of this hero was invincible, and his success was finally adequate to his wishes. Previous to the famous aera of his flight from Mecca, he had taught his followers, that they had no defence against the persecution of their enemies, but invincible patience. But the opposition he encountered obliged him to change his maxims. He now inculcated the duty of extirpating the enemies of God, and held forth the powerful allurements of conquest and plunder. With these he united the theological dogma of predestination, and the infallible promise of paradise to such as met their fate in the field of war. By these methods he trained an intrepid and continually increasing army, inflamed with enthusiasm, and greedy of death. He prepared them for the most arduous undertakings, by continual attacks upon travelling caravans and scattered villages: a pursuit, which, though perfectly consonant with the institutions of his ancestors, painted him to the civilized nations of Europe in the obnoxious character of a robber. By degrees however, he proceeded to the greatest enterprizes; and compelled the whole peninsula of Arabia to confess his authority as a prince, and his mission as a prophet. He died, like the Grecian Philip, in the moment, when having brought his native country to co-operate in one undertaking, he meditated the invasion of distant climates, and the destruction of empires. 

 "The character of Mahomet however was exceeding different from that of Philip, and far more worthy of the attention of a philosopher. Philip was a mere politician, who employed the cunning of a statesman, and the revenues of a prince, in the corruption of a number of fallen and effeminate republics. But Mahomet, without riches, without rank, without education, by the mere ascendancy of his abilities, subjected by persuasion and force a simple and generous nation that had never been conquered; and laid the foundation of an empire, that extended over half the globe; and a religion, capable of surviving the fate of empires. His schemes were always laid with the truest wisdom. He lived among a people celebrated for subtlety and genius: he never laid himself open to detection. His eloquence was specious, dignified, and persuasive. And he blended with it a lofty enthusiasm, that awed those, whom familiarity might have emboldened, and silenced his enemies. He was simple of demeanour, and ostentatious of munificence. And under these plausible virtues he screened the indulgence of his constitutional propensities. The number of his concubines and his wives has been ambitiously celebrated by Christian writers. He sometimes acquired them by violence and injustice; and he frequently dismissed them without ceremony. His temper does not seem to have been naturally cruel. But we may trace in his conduct the features of a barbarian; and a part of his severity may reasonably be ascribed to the plan of religious conquest that he adopted, and that can never be reconciled with the rights of humanity. "

After the victories of Omar, and the other successors of Mahomet had ina manner stripped the court of Constantinople of all its provinces, theByzantine history dwindles into an object petty and minute. In order tovary the scene, and enhance the dignity of his subject, the authoroccasionally takes a prospect of the state of Rome and Italy, under thecontending powers of the papacy and the new empire of the West. When thesingular and unparalleled object of the Crusades presents itself, thehistorian embraces the illustrious scene with apparent eagerness, andbestows upon it a greater enlargement than might perhaps have beenexpected from the nature of his subject; but not greater, we confidentlybelieve, than is calculated to increase the pleasure, that a reader ofphilosophy and taste may derive from the perusal. As the immortalSaladin is one of the most distinguished personages in this story, wehave selected his character, as a specimen of this part of the work. 

 "No sooner however was the virtuous Noureddin removed by death, than the Christians of the East had their attention still more forcibly alarmed by the progress of the invincible Saladin. He had possessed himself of the government of Egypt; first, under the modest appellation of vizier, and then, with the more august title of soldan. He abolished the dynasty of the Fatemite khalifs. Though Noureddin had been the patron of his family, and the father of his fortunes, yet was that hero no sooner expired, than he invaded the territories of his young and unwarlike successor. He conquered the fertile and populous province of Syria. He compelled the saheb of Mawsel to do him homage. The princes of the Franks already trembled for their possessions, and prepared a new and more solemn embassy, to demand the necessary succours of their European brethren. 

 "The qualities of Saladin were gilded with the lustre of conquest; and it has been the singular fortune of this Moslem hero, to be painted in fairer colours by the discordant and astonished Christians, than by those of his own courtiers and countrymen, who may reasonably be supposed to have known him best. He has been compared with Alexander; and tho' he be usually stiled, and with some justice, a barbarian, it does not appear that his character would suffer in the comparison. His conquests were equally splendid; nor did he lead the forces of a brave and generous people, against a nation depressed by slavery, and relaxed with effeminacy. Under his banner Saracen encountered Saracen in equal strife; or the forces of the East were engaged with the firmer and more disciplined armies of the West. Like Alexander, he was liberal to profusion; and while all he possessed seemed the property of his friends, the monarch himself often wanted that, which with unstinted hand he had heaped upon his favourites and dependents. His sentiments were elevated, his manners polite and insinuating, and the affability of his temper was never subdued. 

 "But the parallel is exceedingly far from entire. He possessed not the romantic gallantry of the conqueror of Darius; he had none of those ardent and ungovernable passions, through whose medium the victories of Arbela and Issus had transformed the generous hero into the lawless tyrant. It was a maxim to which he uniformly adhered, to accomplish his lofty designs by policy and intrigue, and to leave as little as possible to the unknown caprice of fortune. In his mature age he was temperate, gentle, patient. The passions of his soul, and the necessities of nature were subordinate to the equanimity of his character[A]. His deportment was grave and thoughtful; his religion sincere and enthusiastic. He was ignorant of letters, and despised all learning, that was not theological. The cultivation, that had obtained under the khalifs, had not entirely civilized the genius of Saladin. His maxims of war were indeed the maxims of the age, and ought not to be adopted as a particular imputation. But the action of his striking off with his own hand the head of a Christian prince, who had attacked the defenceless caravan of the pilgrims of Mecca, exhibits to our view all the features of a fierce and untutored barbarian[B] . "

 [Footnote A: Bohaoddin, p. 71. He was an eye witness, and had a considerable share in many of the transactions of Saladin. He is generally accurate, and tolerably impartial. ]

 [Footnote B: Ebn Shohnah, Heg. 589. Abulfarai, Renaudot, p. 243. D'Herbelot, biblioth. Orient. Art. Togrul, &c. ]

As the whole of this excellent work is now before us, it may not beimpertinent, before we finally take our leave of it, to attempt an ideaof its celebrated author. We are happy in this place to declare ouropinion, that no author ever better obeyed the precept of Horace andBoileau, in choosing a subject nicely correspondent to the talents hepossessed. The character of this writer, patient yet elegant, accuratein enquiry, acute in reflexion, was peculiarly calculated to trace theflow and imperceptible decline of empire, and to throw light upon aperiod, darkened by the barbarism of its heroes, and the confused andnarrow genius of its authors. In a word, we need not fear to class theperformance with those that shall do lasting, perhaps immortal, honour, to the country by which they have been produced. 

But like many other works of this elevated description, the time shallcertainly come, when the history before us shall no longer be found, butin the libraries of the learned, and the cabinets of the curious. Atpresent it is equally sought by old and young, the learned andunlearned, the macaroni, the peer, and the fine lady, as well as thestudent and scholar. But this is to be ascribed to the rage of fashion. The performance is not naturally calculated for general acceptance. Itis, by the very tenor of the subject, interspersed with a thousandminute and elaborate investigations, which, in spite of perspicuousmethod, and classical allusion, will deter the idle, and affright thegay. 

Nor can we avoid ascribing the undistinguishing and extravagantapplause, that has been bestowed upon the style, to the same source offashion, the rank, the fortune, the connexions of the writer. It isindeed loaded with epithets, and crowded with allusions. But though thestyle be often raised, the thoughts are always calm, equal, and rigidlyclassic. The language is full of art, but perfectly exempt from fire. Learning, penetration, accuracy, polish; any thing is rather thecharacteristic of the historian, than the flow of eloquence, and theflame of genius. Far therefore from classing him in this respect withsuch writers as the immortal Hume, who have perhaps carried the Englishlanguage to the highest perfection it is capable of reaching; we areinclined to rank him below Dr. Johnson, though we are by no meansinsensible to the splendid faults of that admirable writer. 

One word perhaps ought to be said respecting Mr. Gibbon's treatment ofChristianity. His wit is indeed by no means uniformly happy; as wherefor instance, he tells us, that the name of _Le Boeuf_ is remarkablyapposite to the character of that antiquarian; or where, speaking of theindefatigable diligence of Tillemont, he informs us, that "the patientand sure-footed mule of the Alps may be trusted in the most slipperypaths. " But allowing every thing for the happiness of his irony, andsetting aside our private sentiments respecting the justice of itsapplication, we cannot help thinking it absolutely incompatible, withthe laws of history. For our own part, we honestly confess, that we havemet with more than one passage, that has puzzled us whether it ought tobe understood in jest or earnest. The irony of a single word he must bea churl who would condemn; but the continuance of this figure in seriouscomposition, throws truth and falsehood, right and wrong intoinextricable perplexity. 

ARTICLE II. 

THE HISTORY OF AMERICA. BY WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D. D. &C. VOLS. III, IV. 4TO. 

The expectation of almost all ranks has been as much excited by thepresent performance, as perhaps by almost any publication in the recordsof literature. The press has scarcely been able to keep pace with theeagerness of the public, and the third edition is already announced, before we have been able to gratify our readers with an account of thisinteresting work. For a great historian to adventure an established nameupon so recent and arduous a subject, is an instance that has scarcelyoccurred. Reports were sometime ago industriously propagated that Dr. Robertson had turned his attention to a very different subject, and evenwhen it was generally known that the present work was upon the eve ofpublication, it was still questioned by many, whether a writer, socelebrated for prudence, had not declined the more recent part of theNorth American history. The motives of his conduct upon this head asthey are stated in the preface, we shall here lay before our readers. 

"But neither the history of Portuguese America, nor the early history ofour own settlements, have constituted the most arduous part of thepresent publication. The revolution, which, unfortunately for thiscountry, hath recently taken place in the British colonies, hath excitedthe most general attention, at the same time that it hath rendered thegratification of public curiosity a matter of as much delicacy asnecessity. Could this event have been foreseen by me, I should perhapshave been more cautious of entering into engagements with the public. Toembark upon a subject, respecting which the sentiments of my countrymenhave been so much divided, and the hand of time hath not yet collectedthe verdicts of mankind; while the persons, to whose lot it hath fallento act the principal parts upon the scene, are almost all living; is atask that prudence might perhaps refuse, and modesty decline. Butcircumstanced as I was, I have chosen rather to consider thesepeculiarities as pleas for the candour of my readers, than as motives towithdraw myself from so important an undertaking. I should ill deservethe indulgence I have experienced from the public, were I capable ofwithdrawing from a task by which their curiosity might be gratified, from any private inducements of inconvenience or difficulty. "

We have already said, and the reader will have frequent occasion torecollect it, that we by no means generally intend an analysis of theseveral works that may come before us. In the present instance, we donot apprehend that we shall lay ourselves open to much blame, by passingover in silence the discoveries of Vespusius, and the conquests ofBaretto; and laying before our readers some extracts from the history ofthe late war. It is impossible not to remark that the subject is treatedwith much caution, and that, though the sentiments of a royalist beevery where conspicuous, they are those of a royalist, moderated bymisfortune and defeat. 

The following is Dr. Robertson's account of the declaration ofindependence. 

 "It is by this time sufficiently visible, that the men, who took upon themselves to be most active in directing the American counsels, were men of deep design and extensive ambition, who by no means confined their views to the redress of those grievances of which they complained, and which served them for instruments in the pursuit of objects less popular and specious. By degrees they sought to undermine the allegiance, and dissolve the ties, which connected the colonies with the parent country of Britain. Every step that was taken by her ministry to restore tranquility to the empire, was artfully misrepresented by the zealots of faction. Every unguarded expression, or unfortunate measure of irritation was exaggerated by leaders, who considered their own honour and dignity as inseparable from further advances, and predicted treachery and insult as the consequences of retreating. They now imagined they had met with a favourable opportunity for proceeding to extremities. Their influence was greatest in the general congress, and by their means a circular manifesto was issued by that assembly intended to ascertain the disposition of the several colonies respecting a declaration of independence. 

 "They called their countrymen to witness how real had been their grievances, and how moderate their claims. They said, it was impossible to have proceeded with more temper or greater deliberation, but that their complaints had been constantly superseded, their petitions to the throne rejected. The administration of Great Britain had not hesitated to attempt to starve them into surrender, and having miscarried in this, they were ready to employ the whole force of their country, with all the foreign auxiliaries they could obtain, in prosecution of their unjust and tyrannical purposes. They were precipitated, it was said, by Britain into a state of hostility, and there no longer remained for them a liberty of choice. They must either throw down their arms, and expect the clemency of men who had acted as the enemies of their rights; or they must consider themselves as in a state of warfare, and abide by the consequences of that state. Warfare involved independency. Without this their efforts must be irregular, feeble, and without all prospect of success; they could possess no power to suppress mutinies, or to punish conspiracies; nor could they expect countenance and support from any of the states of Europe, however they might be inclined to favour them, while they acknowledged themselves to be subjects, and it was uncertain how soon they might sacrifice their friends and allies to the hopes of a reunion. To look back, they were told, to the king of England, after all the insults they had experienced, and the hostilities that were begun, would be the height of pusillanimity and weakness. They were bid to think a little for their posterity, who by the irreversible laws of nature and situation, could have no alternative left them but to be slaves or independent. Finally, many subtle reasonings were alledged, to evince the advantages they must derive from intrinsic legislation, and general commerce. 

 "On the other hand, the middle and temperate party, represented this step as unnecessary, uncertain in its benefits, and irretrievable in its consequences. They expatiated on the advantages that had long been experienced by the colonists from the fostering care of Great Britain, the generosity of the efforts she had made to protect them, and the happiness they had known under her auspicious patronage. They represented their doubt of the ability of the colonies to defend themselves without her alliance. They stated the necessity of a common superior to balance the separate and discordant interests of the different provinces. They dwelt upon the miseries of an internal and doubtful struggle. Determined never to depart from the assertion of what they considered as their indefeasible right, they would incessantly besiege the throne with their humble remonstrances. They would seek the clemency of England, rather than the alliance of those powers, whom they conceived to be the real enemies of both; nor would they ever be accessory to the shutting up the door of reconciliation. 

 "But the voice of moderation is seldom heard amidst the turbulence of civil dissention. Violent counsels prevailed. The decisive and irrevocable step was made on the 4th of July 1776. It remains with posterity to decide upon its merits. Since that time it has indeed received the sanction of military success; but whatever consequences it may produce to America, the fatal day must ever be regretted by every sincere friend to the British empire. "

The other extract we shall select is from the story of Lord Cornwallis'ssurrender in Virginia, and the consequent termination of the Americanwar. 

 "The loss of these redoubts may be considered as deciding the fate of the British troops. The post was indeed originally so weak and insufficient to resist the force that attacked it, that nothing but the assured expectation of relief from the garrison of New York, could have induced the commander to undertake its defence, and calmly to wait the approaches of the enemy. An officer of so unquestionable gallantry would, rather have hazarded an encounter in the field, and trusted his adventure to the decision of fortune, than by cooping his army in so inadequate a fortress, to have prepared for them inevitable misfortune and disgrace. But with the expectations he had been induced to form, he did not think himself justified in having recourse to desperate expedients. 

 "These hopes were now at an end. The enemy had already silenced his batteries. Nothing remained to hinder them from completing their second parallel, three hundred yards nearer to the besieged than the first. His lordship had received no intelligence of the approach of succours, and a probability did not remain that he could defend his station till such time as he could expect their arrival. Thus circumstanced, with the magnanimity peculiar to him, he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, to acquaint him with the posture of his affairs, and to recommend to the fleet and the army that they should not make any great risk in endeavouring to extricate them. 

 "But although he regarded his situation as hopeless, he did not neglect any effort becoming a general, to lengthen the siege, and procrastinate the necessity of a surrender, if it was impossible finally to prevent it. The number of his troops seemed scarcely sufficient to countenance a considerable sally, but the emergency was so critical, that he ordered about three hundred and fifty men, on the morning of the 16th, to attack the batteries that appeared to be in the greatest forwardness, and to spike their guns. The assault was impetuous and successful. But either from their having executed the business upon which they were sent in a hasty and imperfect manner, or from the activity and industry of the enemy, the damage was repaired, and the batteries completed before evening. 

 "One choice only remained. To carry the troops across to Gloucester Point, and make one last effort to escape. Boats were accordingly prepared, and at ten o'clock at night the army began to embark. The first embarkation arrived in safety. The greater part of the troops were already landed. At this critical moment of hope and apprehension, of expectation and danger, the weather, which had hitherto been moderate and calm, suddenly changed; the sky was clouded, the wind rose and a violent storm ensued. The boats with the remaining troops were borne down the stream. To complete the anxiety and danger, the batteries of the enemy were opened, the day dawned, and their efforts were directed against the northern shore of the river. Nothing could be hoped, but the escape of the boats, and the safety of the troops. They were brought back without much loss, and every thing was replaced in its former situation. 

 "Every thing now verged to the dreaded crisis. The fire of the besiegers was heavy and unintermitted. The British could not return a gun, and the shells, their last resource, were nearly exhausted. They were themselves worn down with sickness and continual watching. A few hours it appeared must infallibly decide their fate. And if any thing were still wanting, the French ships which had entered the mouth of the river, seemed prepared to second the general assault on their side. In this situation, lord Cornwallis, not less calm and humane, than he was intrepid, chose not to sacrifice the lives of so many brave men to a point of honour, but the same day proposed to general Washington a cessation of twenty four hours, in order mutually to adjust the terms of capitulation. 

 "The troops which surrendered in the posts of York and Gloucester amounted to between five and six thousand men, but there were not above three thousand eight hundred of these in a capacity for actual service. They were all obliged to become prisoners of war. Fifteen hundred seamen were included in the capitulation. The commander, unable to obtain terms for the loyal Americans, was obliged to have recourse to a sloop, appointed to carry his dispatches, and which he stipulated should pass unsearched, to convey them to New York. The British fleet and army arrived off the Chesapeak five days after the surrender. Having learned the melancholy fate of their countrymen, they were obliged to return, without effecting any thing, to their former station. 

 "Such was the catastrophe of an army, that in intrepidity of exertion, and the patient endurance of the most mortifying reverses, are scarcely to be equalled by any thing that is to be met with in history. The applause they have received undiminished by their subsequent misfortunes, should teach us to exclaim less upon the precariousness of fame, and animate us with the assurance that heroism and constancy can never be wholly disappointed of their reward. "

The publication before us is written with that laudable industry, whichought ever to distinguish a great historian. The author appears to havehad access to some of the best sources of information; and hasfrequently thrown that light upon a recent story, which is seldom to beexpected, but from the developements of time, and the researches ofprogressive generations. 

We cannot bestow equal praise upon his impartiality. Conscious howeverand reserved upon general questions, the historian has restrictedhimself almost entirely to the narrative form, and has seldom indulgedus with, what we esteem the principal ornament of elegant history, reflexion and character. The situation of Dr. Robertson may suggest tous an obvious, though incompetent, motive in the present instance. Writing for his contemporaries and countrymen, he could not treat theresistance of America, as the respectable struggle of an emergingnation. Writing for posterity, he could not denominate treason andrebellion, that which success, at least, had stamped with the signaturesof gallantry and applause. But such could not have been the motives ofthe writer in that part of the history of America, which was given tothe world some years ago. Perhaps Dr. Robertson was willing to try, howfar his abilities could render the most naked story agreeable andinteresting. We will allow him to have succeeded. But we could well havespared the experiment. 

The style of this performance is sweet and eloquent. We hope howeverthat we shall not expose ourselves to the charge of fastidiousness, whenwe complain that it is rather too uniformly so. The narrative is indeedoccasionally enlivened, and the language picturesque. But in general wesearch in vain for some roughness to relieve the eye, and some sharpnessto provoke the palate. One full and sweeping period succeeds another, and though pleased and gratified at first, the attention graduallybecomes languid. 

It would not perhaps be an unentertaining employment to compare thestyle of Dr. Robertson's present work with that of his firstpublication, the admired History of Scotland. The language of thatperformance is indeed interspersed with provincial and inelegant modesof expression, and the periods are often unskilfully divided. But it hasa vigour and spirit, to which such faults are easily pardoned. We cansay of it, what we can scarcely say of any of the author's laterpublications, that he has thrown his whole strength into it. 

In that instance however he entered the lists with almost the onlyhistorian, with whom Dr. Robertson must appear to disadvantage, theincomparable Hume. In the comparison, we cannot but acknowledge that theeloquence of the former speaks the professor, not the man of the world. He reasons indeed, but it is with the reasons of logic; and not with theacuteness of philosophy, and the intuition of genius. Let not the livinghistorian be offended. To be second to Hume, in our opinion mightsatisfy the ambition of a Livy or a Tacitus. 

ARTICLE III. 

SECRET HISTORY OF THEODORE ALBERT MAXIMILIAN, PRINCE OF HOHENZOLLERNSIGMARINGEN. 12MO. 

This agreeable tale appears to be the production of the noble author ofthe Modern Anecdote. It is told with the same humour and carelessvivacity. The design is to ridicule the cold pedantry that judges ofyouth, without making any allowance for the warmth of inexperience, andthe charms of beauty. Such readers as take up a book merely forentertainment, and do not quarrel with an author that does notscrupulously confine himself within the limits of moral instruction, will infallibly find their account in it. 

The following specimen will give some idea of the manner in which thestory is told. 

"The learned Bertram was much scandalized at the dissipation thatprevailed in the court of Hohenzollern. He was credibly informed thatthe lord treasurer of the principality, who had no less than a revenueof 109l. 7s. 10-3/4d. Committed to his management, sometimes forgot thecares of an exchequer in the arms of a mistress. Nay, fame had evenwhispered in his ear, that the reverend confessor himself had anintrigue with a certain cook-maid. But that which beyond all things, afflicted him was the amour of Theodore with the beautiful Wilhelmina. What, cried he, when he ruminated upon the subject, can it be excusablein the learned Bertram, whose reputation has filled a fourth part of thecircle of Swabia, who twice bore away the prize in the university ofOtweiler, to pass these crying sins in silence? It shall not be said. Thus animated, he strided away to the antichamber of Theodore. Theodore, who was all graciousness, venerated the reputation of Bertram, andordered him to be instantly admitted. The eyes of the philosopherflashed with anger. Most noble prince, cried he, I am come to informyou, that you must immediately break with the beautiful Wilhelmina. Theodore stared, but made no answer. The vices of your highness, saidBertram, awake my indignation. While you toy away your hours in the lapof a w----e, the vast principality of Hohenzollern Sigmaringen hastensto its fall. Reflect, my lord; three villages, seven hamlets, and neareleven grange houses and cottages, depend upon you for their politicalprosperity. Alas, thought Theodore, what are grange houses and cottagescompared with the charms of Wilhelmina? Shall the lewd tricks of awanton make you forget the jealous projects of the prince ofHohenzollern Hechingen, the elder branch of your illustrious house?Theodore pulled out his watch, that he might not outstay hisappointment. My lord, continued Bertram, ruin impends over you. Twopeasants of the district of Etwingen have already been seduced fromtheir loyalty, a nail that supported the chart of your principality hasfallen upon the ground, and your father confessor is in bed with acook-maid. Theodore held forth his hand for Bertram to kiss, and flewupon the wings of desire to the habitation of Wilhelmina. "

ARTICLE IV. 

LOUISA, OR MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. BY THE AUTHOR OF EVELINA ANDCECILIA. 3 VOLS. 12MO. 

There scarcely seems to exist a more original genius in the present agethan this celebrated writer. In the performances with which she hasalready entertained the public, we cannot so much as trace a feature ofher illustrious predecessors; the fable, the characters, the incidentsare all her own. In the mean time they are not less happy, than they arenew. A Belfield, a Monckton, a Morrice, and several other personages ofthe admired Cecilia, will scarcely yield to the most finished draughtsof the greatest writers. In comedy, in tragedy, Miss Burney alikeexcels. And the union of them both in the Vauxhall scene of the death ofHarrel ranks among the first efforts of human genius. Of consequence wemay safely pronounce that the reputation of this lady is by no meansdependent upon fashion or caprice, but will last as long as there isunderstanding to discern, and taste to relish the beauties of fiction. 

It must be acknowledged that her defects are scarcely less conspicuousthan her excellencies. In her underplots she generally miscarries. Wecan trace nothing of Miss Burney in the stories of Macartney, Albany, and the Hills. Her comedy sometimes deviates into farce. The characterof Briggs in particular, though it very successfully excites ourlaughter, certainly deforms a work, which in its principal constituentsranks in the very highest species of composition. Her style is oftenaffected, and in the serious is sometimes so laboured and figurative, asto cost the reader a very strict attention to discover the meaning, without perfectly repaying his trouble. These faults are mostconspicuous in Cecilia, which upon the whole we esteem by much hergreatest performance. In Evelina she wrote more from inartificialnature. And we are happy to observe in the present publication, that themasculine sense, by which Miss Burney is distinguished, has raised heralmost wholly above these little errors. The style of Louisa is morepolished than that of Evelina, and more consonant to true taste thanthat of Cecilia. 

The principal story of Louisa, like that of Cecilia, is very simple, butadorned with a thousand beautiful episodes. As the great action of thelatter is Cecilia's sacrifice of fortune to a virtuous and laudableattachment, so that of the former is the sacrifice of rank, in themarriage of the heroine to a young man of the most distinguished merit, but neither conspicuous by birth, nor favoured by fortune. The event, romantic and inconsistent with the manners of polished society as it mayappear, is introduced by such a train of incidents, that it isimpossible not to commend and admire the conduct of the heroine. 

Her character is that of inflexible vivacity and wit, accompanied with aspice of coquetry and affectation. And though this line of portraitseemed exhausted by Congreve and Richardson, we will venture topronounce Louisa a perfect original. It is impossible to describe such acharacter in the abstract without recollecting Millamant and Lady G. Butin reading this most agreeable novel, you scarcely think of either. Asthere is no imitation, so there are not two expressions in the work, that can lead from one to the other. Louisa is more amiable than theformer, and more delicate and feminine than the latter. 

Mr. Burchel, the happy lover, is an author, a young man of infinitegenius, of romantic honour, of unbounded generosity. Lord Raymond, thebrother of Louisa, becomes acquainted with him in his travels, by anincident in which Mr. Burchel does him the most essential service. Beingafterwards introduced to his sister, and being deeply smitten with herbeauty and accomplishments, he quits the house of lord Raymond abruptly, with a determination entirely to drop his connexion. Sometime after, ina casual and unexpected meeting, he saves the life of his mistress. Inthe conclusion, his unparalleled merit, and his repeated servicessurmount every obstacle to an union. 

Besides these two there are many other characters happily imagined. Louisa is involved in considerable distress previous to the finalcatastrophe. The manner in which her gay and sportive character issupported in these scenes is beyond all commendation. But the extract weshall give, as most singular in its nature, relates to anotherconsiderable female personage, Olivia. As the humour of Louisa is livelyand fashionable, that of Olivia is serious and romantic. Educated inperfect solitude, she is completely ignorant of modern manners, andentertains the most sovereign contempt for them. Full of sentiment andsensibility, she is strongly susceptible to every impression, and herconduct is wholly governed by her feelings. Trembling at every leaf, andagonized at the smallest accident, she is yet capable, from singularityof thinking, of enterprises the most bold and unaccountable. Conformablyto this temper, struck with the character of Burchel, and ravished withhis address and behaviour, she plans the most extraordinary attempt uponhis person. By her orders he is surprised in a solitary excursion, aftersome resistance actually seized, and conducted blindfold to the house ofhis fair admirer. Olivia now appears, professes her attachment, and laysher fortune, which is very considerable, at his feet. Unwilling howeverto take him by surprise, she allows him a day for deliberation, andinsists upon his delivering at the expiration of it, an honest andimpartial answer. His entertainment is sumptuous. 

In the mean time, a peasant, who at a distance was witness to theviolence committed upon Burchel, and had traced him to the house ofOlivia, carries the account of what he had seen to Raymond Place. Thecompany, which, in the absence of lord Raymond, consisted of Louisa, Mr. Bromley, an uncle, Sir Charles Somerville, a suitor, and Mr. Townshend, a sarcastic wit, determine to set off the next morning for the house ofthe ravisher. This is the scene which follows. 

 "Alarmed at the bustle upon the stairs, Olivia, more dead than alive, pressed the hand of Burchel with a look of inexpressible astonishment and mortification, and withdrew to the adjoining apartment. 

 "The door instantly flew open. Burchel advanced irresolutely a few steps towards the company, bowed, and was silent. 

 "The person that first entered was Mr. Bromley. He instantly seized hold of Burchel, and shook him very heartily by the hand. 

 "Ha, my boy, said he, have we found you? Well, and how? safe and sound? Eh? clapping him upon the shoulder. 

 "At your service, sir, answered Burchel, with an air of embarrassment and hesitation. 

 "It was not altogether the right thing, methinks, to leave us all without saying why, or wherefore, and stay out all night. Why we thought you had been murdered. My niece here has been in hysterics. 

 "'Pon honour, cried sir Charles, you are very facetious. But we heard, Mr. Burchel, you were ran away with. It must have been very alarming. I vow, I should have been quite fluttered. Pray, sir, how was it?

 "Why, indeed, interposed Mr. Townshend, the very relation seemed to disturb sir Charles. For my part, I was more alarmed for him than for Miss Bromley. 

 "Well, but, returned Bromley, impatiently, it is a queer affair. I hope as the lady went so far, you were not shy. You have not spoiled all, and affronted her. 

 "Oh, surely not, exclaimed Townshend, you do not suspect him of being such a boor. Doubtless every thing is settled by this time. The lady has a fine fortune, Burchel; poets do not meet with such every day; Miss Bromley, you look pale. 

 "Ha! Ha! Ha! you do me infinite honour, cried Louisa, making him a droll curtesy; what think you, sir Charles?

 "'Pon my soul, I never saw you look so bewitchingly. 

 "Well, but my lad, cried Bromley, you say nothing, don't answer a single question. What, mum's the word, eh?

 "Indeed, sir, I do not know, --I do not understand--the affair is entirely a mystery to myself--it is in the power of no one but Miss Seymour to explain it. 

 "Well, and where is she? where is she?

 "O I will go and look her, cried Louisa; will you come, Sir Charles; and immediately tripped out of the room. Sir Charles followed. 

 "Olivia had remained in too much confusion to withdraw farther than the next room; and upon this new intrusion, she threw herself upon a sopha, and covered her face with her hands. 

 "O here is the stray bird, exclaimed Louisa, fluttering in the meshes. 

 "Mr. Bromley immediately entered; Mr. Townshend followed; Burchel brought up the rear. 

 "My dearest creature, cried Louisa, do not be alarmed. We are come to wish you joy; and seized one of her hands. 

 "Well, but where's the parson? exclaimed Bromley--What, has grace been said, the collation served, and the cloth removed? Upon my word, you have been very expeditious, Miss. 

 "My God, Bromley, said Townshend, do not reflect so much upon the ladies modesty. I will stake my life they were not to have been married these three days. 

 "Olivia now rose from the sopha in unspeakable agitation, and endeavoured to defend herself. Gentlemen, assure yourselves, --give me leave to protest to you, --indeed you will be sorry--you are mistaken------Oh Miss Bromley, added she, in a piercing voice, and threw her arms eagerly about the neck of Louisa. 

 "Mind them not, my dear, said Louisa; you know, gentlemen, Miss Seymour is studious; it was a point in philosophy she wished to settle; that's all, Olivia; and kissed her cheek. 

 "Or perhaps, added Townshend, --the lady is young and inexperienced--she wanted a comment upon the bower scene in Cleopatra. 

 "Olivia suddenly raised her head and came forward, still leaning one arm upon Louisa. Hear me, cried she; I will be heard. What have I done that would expose me to the lash of each unlicenced tongue? What has there been in any hour of my life, upon which for calumny to fix her stain? Of what loose word, of what act of levity and dissipation can I be convicted? Have I not lived in the solitude of a recluse? Oh, fortune, hard and unexampled!

 "Deuce take me, cried sir Charles, whispering Townshend, if I ever saw any thing so handsome. 

 "Olivia stood in a posture firm and collected, her bosom heaving with resentment; but her face was covered with blushes, and her eyes were languishing and sorrowful. 

 "For the present unfortunate affair I will acknowledge the truth. Mr. Burchel to me appeared endowed with every esteemable accomplishment, brave, generous, learned, imaginative, and tender. By what nobler qualities could a female heart be won? Fashion, I am told, requires that we should not make the advances. I reck not fashion, and have never been her slave. Fortune has thrown him at a distance from me. It should have been my boast to trample upon her imaginary distinctions. I would never have forced an unwilling hand. But if constancy, simplicity and regard could have won a heart, his heart had been mine. I know that the succession of external objects would have made the artless virtues of Olivia pass unheeded. It was for that I formed my little plan. I will not blush for a scheme that no bad passion prompted. But it is over, and I will return to my beloved solitude with what unconcern I may. God bless you, Mr. Burchel; I never meant you any harm: and in saying this, she advanced two steps forward, and laid her hand on his. 

 "Burchel, without knowing what he did, fell on one knee and kissed it. 

 "This action revived the confusion of Olivia; she retreated, and Louisa took hold of her arm. Will you retire, said Louisa? You are a sweet good creature. Olivia assented, advanced a few steps forward, and then with her head half averted, took a parting glance at Burchel, and hurried away. 

 "A strange girl this, said Bromley! Devil take me, if I know what to make of her. 

 "I vow, cried sir Charles, I am acquainted with all the coteries in town, and never met with any thing like her. 

 "Why, she is as coming, rejoined the squire, as a milk-maid, and yet I do not know how she has something that dashes one too. 

 "Ah, cried sir Charles, shaking his head, she has nothing of the manners of the _grand monde_. 

 "That I can say nothing to, said Bromley, but, in my mind, her behaviour is gracious and agreeable enough, if her conduct were not so out of the way. 

 "What think you, Burchel, said Townshend, she is handsome, innocent, good tempered and rich; excellent qualities, let me tell you, for a wife. 

 "I think her, said Burchel, more than you say. Her disposition is amiable, and her character exquisitely sweet and feminine. She is capable of every thing generous and admirable. A false education, and visionary sentiments, to which she will probably one day be superior, have rendered her for the present an object of pity. But, though I loved her, I should despise my own heart, if it were capable of taking advantage of her inexperience, to seduce her to a match so unequal. 

 "At this instant Louisa re-entered, and making the excuses of Olivia, the company returned to the carriage, sir Charles mounted on horseback as he came, and they carried off the hero in triumph. "

ARTICLE V. 

THE PEASANT OF BILIDELGERID, A TALE. 

2 VOLS. SHANDEAN. 

This is the only instance in which we shall take the liberty to announceto the public an author hitherto unknown. Thus situated, we shall notpresume to prejudice our readers either ways concerning him, but shallsimply relate the general plan of the work. 

It attempts a combination, which has so happily succeeded with thepreceding writer, of the comic and the pathetic. The latter however isthe principal object. The hero is intended for a personage in thehighest degree lovely and interesting, who in his earliest bloom ofyouth is subjected to the most grievous calamities, and terminates themnot but by an untimely death. The writer seems to have apprehended thata dash of humour was requisite to render his story in the highest degreeinteresting. And he has spared no exertion of any kind of which he wascapable, for accomplishing this purpose. 

The scene is laid in Egypt and the adjacent countries. The peasant isthe son of the celebrated Saladin. The author has exercised hisimagination in painting the manners of the times and climates of whichhe writes. 

ARTICLE VI. 

AN ESSAY ON NOVEL, IN THREE EPISTLES INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLELADY CRAVEN, BY WILL. HAYLEY, ESQ. 4TO. 

The public has been for some time agreed that Mr. Hayley is the first ofEnglish poets. Envy herself scarcely dares utter a dissentient murmur, and even generous emulation turns pale at the mention of his name. Hisproductions, allowing for the very recent period in which he commencedauthor, are rather numerous. A saturnine critic might be apt to suspectthat they were also hasty, were not the loftiness of their conceptions, the majesty of their style, the richness of their imagination, and aboveall, the energy both of their thoughts and language so conspicuous, thatwe may defy any man of taste to rise from the perusal, and say, that allthe study and consideration in the world could possibly have made thembetter. After a course however of unremitted industry, Mr. Hayley seemedto have relaxed, and to the eternal mortification of the literary world, last winter could not boast a single production of the prince of song. The muses have now paid us another visit. We are very sensible of ourincapacity to speak, or even think of this writer with prosaic phlegm;we cannot however avoid pronouncing, that, in our humble opinion, Mr. Hayley has now outdone all his former outdoings, and greatly repaid usfor the absence we so dearly mourned. 

We are sensible that it is unbecoming the character of a critic to layhimself out in general and vague declamation. It is also within the lawsof possibility, that an incurious or unpoetical humour in some of ourreaders, and (ah me, the luckless day!) penury in others, may haveoccasioned their turning over the drowsy pages of the review, beforethey have perused the original work. Some account of the plan, and aspecimen of the execution may therefore be expected. 

The first may be dispatched in two words. The design is almost exactlyanalogous to that of the Essay on History, which has been so muchcelebrated. The author triumphs in the novelty of his subject, and paysa very elegant compliment to modern times, as having been in a mannerthe sole inventors of this admirable species of composition, of which hehas undertaken to deliver the precepts. He deduces the pedigree of novelthrough several generations from Homer and Calliope. He then undertakesto characterise the most considerable writers in this line. He discusseswith much learning, and all the logical subtlety so proper to thedidactic muse, the pretensions of the Cyropedia of Xenophon; but atlength rejects it as containing nothing but what was literally true, andtherefore belonging to the class of history. He is very eloquent uponthe Shepherd of Hermas, Theagenes and Chariclea, and the Ethiopics ofHeliodorus. Turpin, Scudery, Cotterel, Sidney, the countess D'Anois, and"all such writers as were never read, " next pass in review. Boccace andCervantes occupy a very principal place. The modern French writers offictitious history from Fenelon to Voltaire, close the first epistle. The second is devoted to English authors. The third to the laws of novelwriting. 

We shall present our readers, as a specimen, with the character of thataccomplished writer, John Bunyan, whom the poet has generously rescuedfrom that contempt which fashionable manners, and fashionablelicentiousness had cast upon him. 

 "See in the front of Britain's honour'd band, The author of the Pilgrim's Progress stand. Though, sunk in shades of intellectual night, He boasted but the simplest arts, to read and write; Though false religion hold him in her chains, His judgment weakens and his heart restrains: Yet fancy's richest beams illum'd his mind, And honest virtue his mistakes refin'd. The poor and the illiterate he address'd; The poor and the illiterate call him blest. Blest he the man that taught the poor to pray, That shed on adverse fate religion's day, That wash'd the clotted tear from sorrow's face, Recall'd the rambler to the heavenly race, Dispell'd the murky clouds of discontent, And read the lore of patience wheresoe'er he went. "

Amidst the spirited beauties of this passage, it is impossible not toconsider some as particularly conspicuous. How strong and nervous thesecond and fourth lines! How happily expressive the two Alexandrines!What a luminous idea does the epithet "murky" present to us! Howoriginal and picturesque that of the "clotted tear!" If the sameexpression be found in the Ode to Howard, let it however be considered, that the exact propriety of that image to wash it from the face (for howelse, candid reader, could a tear already clotted be removed) is a clearimprovement, and certainly entitles the author to a repetition. Lastly, how consistent the assemblage, how admirable the climax in the last sixlines! Incomparable they might appear, but we recollect a passage nearlyequal in the Essay on History, "_Wild_ as thy _feeble_ Metaphysic page, Thy History _rambles_ into _Steptic rage_; Whose giddy and fantastic _dreams abuse_, A Hampden's Virtue and a Shakespeare's Muse. "

How elevated the turn of this passage! To be at once luxuriant andfeeble, and to lose one's way till we get into a passion, (with ourguide, I suppose) is peculiar to a poetic subject. It is impossible tomistake this for prose. Then how pathetic the conclusion! What hardheart can refuse its compassion to personages _abused_ by a _dream_, andthat dream the _dream of a History!_

Oh, wonderful poet, thou shalt be immortal, if my eulogiums can makethee so! To thee thine own rhyme shall never be applied, (_Dii, avertiteomen_). 

 "Already, pierc'd by freedom's searching rays, The waxen fabric of his fame decays!"

ARTICLE VII. 

INKLE AND YARICO, A POEM, BY JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D. 4TO. 

This author cannot certainly be compared with Mr. Hayley. 

We know not by what fatality Dr. Beattie has acquired the highestreputation as a philosopher, while his poetry, though acknowledged to bepleasing, is comparatively little thought on. It must always be withregret and diffidence, that we dissent from the general verdict. Weshould however be somewhat apprehensive of sacrificing the character wehave assumed, did we fail to confess that his philosophy has alwaysappeared to us at once superficial and confused, feeble andpresumptuous. We do not know any thing it has to recommend it, but thegood intention, and we wish we could add the candid spirit, with whichit is written. 

Of his poetry however we think very differently. Though deficient innerve, it is at once sweet and flowing, simple and amiable. We are happyto find the author returning to a line in which he appears so trulyrespectable. The present performance is by no means capable to detractfrom his character as a poet. This well known tale is related in amanner highly pathetic and interesting. As we are not at all desirous ofpalling the curiosity of the reader for the poem itself, we shall makeour extract at random. The following stanzas, as they are taken from apart perfectly cool and introductory, are by no means the best in thisagreeable piece. They are prefaced by some general reflexions on themischiefs occasioned by the _sacra fames auri_. The reader will perceivethat Dr. Beattie, according to the precept of Horace, has rushed intothe midst of things, and not taken up the narrative in chronologicalorder. 

 "Where genial Phoebus darts his fiercest rays, Parching with heat intense the torrid zone: No fanning western breeze his rage allays; No passing cloud, with kindly shade o'erthrown, His place usurps; but Phoebus reigns alone, In this unfriendly clime a woodland shade, Gloomy and dark with woven boughs o'ergrown, Shed chearful verdure on the neighbouring glade, And to th' o'er-labour'd hind a cool retreat display'd. 

 Along the margin of th' Atlantic main, Rocks pil'd on rocks yterminate the scene; Save here and there th' incroaching surges gain An op'ning grateful to the daisied green; Save where, ywinding cross the vale is seen A bubbling creek, that spreads on all sides round Its breezy freshness, gladding, well I ween, The op'ning flow'rets that adorn the ground, From her green margin to the ocean's utmost bound. 

 The distant waters hoarse resounding roar, And fill the list'ning ear. The neighb'ring grove Protects, i'th'midst that rose, a fragrant bow'r, With nicest art compos'd. All nature strove, With all her powers, this favour'd spot to prove A dwelling fit for innocence and joy, Or temple worthy of the god of love. All objects round to mirth and joy invite, Nor aught appears among that could the pleasure blight. 

 Within there sat, all beauteous to behold! Adorn'd with ev'ry grace, a gentle maid. Her limbs were form'd in nature's choicest mould, Her lovely eyes the coldest bosoms sway'd, And on her breast ten thousand Cupids play'd. What though her skin were not as lilies fair? What though her face confest a darker shade? Let not a paler European dare With glowing Yarico's her beauty to compare. 

 And if thus perfect were her outward form, What tongue can tell the graces of her mind, Constant in love and in its friendships warm? There blushing modesty with virtue join'd There tenderness and innocence combin'd. Nor fraudful wiles, nor dark deceit she knew, Nor arts to catch the inexperienc'd hind; No swain's attention from a rival drew, For she was simple all, and she was ever true. 

 There was not one so lovely or so good, Among the num'rous daughters of the plain; 'Twas Yarico each Indian shepherd woo'd; But Yarico each shepherd woo'd in vain; Their arts she view'd not but with cold disdain. For British Inkle's charms her soul confest, His paler charms had caus'd her am'rous pain; Nor could her heart admit another guest, Or time efface his image in her constant breast, Her generous love remain'd not unreturn'd, Nor was the youthful swain as marble cold, But soon with equal flame his bosom burn'd; His passion soon in love's soft language told, Her spirits cheer'd and bad her heart be bold. Each other dearer than the world beside, Each other dearer than themselves they hold. Together knit in firmest bonds they bide, While days and months with joy replete unnotic'd glide. 

 Ev'n now beside her sat the British boy, Who ev'ry mark of youth and beauty bore, All that allure the soul to love and joy. Ev'n now her eyes ten thousand charms explore, Ten thousand charms she never knew before. His blooming cheeks confest a lovely glow, His jetty eyes unusual brightness wore, His auburn locks adown his Shoulders flow, And manly dignity is seated on his brow. "

ARTICLE VIII

THE ALCHYMIST, A COMEDY, ALTERED FROM BEN JONSON, BY RICHARD BRINSLEYSHERIDAN, ESQ. 

There are few characters, that have risen into higher favour with theEnglish nation, than Mr. Sheridan. He was known and admired, as a man ofsuccessful gallantry, both with the fair sex and his own, before heappeared, emphatically speaking, upon the public stage. Since that time, his performances, of the Duenna, and the School for Scandal, have beendistinguished with the public favour beyond any dramatical productionsin the language. His compositions, in gaiety of humour and spritelinessof wit, are without an equal. 

Satiated, it should seem, with the applauses of the theatre, he turnedhis attention to public and parliamentary speaking. The vulgarprejudice, that genius cannot expect to succeed in two different walks, for some time operated against him. But he possessed merit, and hecompelled applause. He now ranks, by universal consent, as an orator anda statesman, with the very first names of an age, that will not perhapsbe accounted unproductive in genius and abilities. 

It was now generally supposed that he had done with the theatre. For ourown part, we must confess; we entertain all possible veneration forparliamentary and ministerial abilities; we should be mortified to ranksecond to any man in our enthusiasm for the official talents of Mr. Sheridan: But as the guardians of literature, we regretted the loss ofhis comic powers. We wished to preserve the poet, without losing thestatesman. Greatly as we admired the opera and the comedy, we conceivedhis unbounded talents capable of something higher still. To say all in aword, we looked at his hands for the MISANTHROPE of the British muse. 

It is unnecessary to say then, that we congratulate the public upon thepresent essay. It is meaned only as a _jeu d'esprit_. But we consider itas the earnest of that perseverance, which we wished to prove, andfeared to lose. The scene we have extracted, and which, with another, that may be considered as a kind of praxis upon the rules, constitutesthe chief part of the alteration, is apparently personal. How farpersonal satire is commendable in general, and how far it is just in thepresent instance, are problems that we shall leave with our readers. --Asmuch as belongs to Jonson we have put in italics. 

 ACT IV

 SCENE 4

 _Enter_ Captain Face, _disguised as Lungs, and_ Kastril. 

 FACE. _Who would you speak with_?

 KASTRIL. _Where is the captain?_

 FACE. 

 _Gone, sir, about some business. _

 KASTRIL. 

 _Gone?_

 FACE. 

 _He will return immediately. But master doctor, his lieutenant is here. _

 KASTRIL. 

 _Say, I would speak with him. _

 [_Exit_ Face. 

 _Enter_ Subtle. 

 SUBTLE. 

 _Come near, sir. --I know you well. --You are my_ terrae fili--_that is--my boy of land--same three thousand pounds a year. _

 KASTRIL. 

 _How know you that, old boy?_

 SUBTLE. 

 _I know the subject of your visit, and I'll satisfy you. Let us see now what notion you have of the matter. It is a nice point to broach a quarrel right_. 

 KASTRIL. 

 _You lie_. 

 SUBTLE. 

 _How now?--give me the lie?--for what, my boy?_

 KASTRIL. 

 _Nay look you to that. --I am beforehand--that's my business_. 

 SUBTLE. 

 _Oh, this is not the art of quarrelling--'tis poor and pitiful_!--What, sir, would you restrict the noble science of debate to the mere lie?--Phaw, that's a paltry trick, that every fool could hit. --A mere Vandal could throw his gantlet, and an Iroquois knock his antagonist down. --No, sir, the art of quarrel is vast and complicated. --Months may worthily be employed in the attainment, --and the exercise affords range for the largest abilities. --To quarrel after the newest and most approved method, is the first of sciences, --the surest test of genius, and the last perfection of civil society. 

 KASTRIL. 

 You amaze me. I thought to dash the lie in another's face was the most respectable kind of anger. 

 SUBTLE. 

 O lud, sir, you are very ignorant. A man that can only give the lie is not worth the name of quarrelsome--quite tame and spiritless!--No, sir, the angry boy must understand, beside the QUARREL DIRECT--in which I own you have some proficiency--a variety of other modes of attack;--such as, the QUARREL PREVENTIVE--the QUARREL OBSTREPEROUS--the QUARREL SENSITIVE--the QUARREL OBLIQUE--and the QUARREL PERSONAL. 

 KASTRIL. 

 O Mr. Doctor, that I did but understand half so much of the art of brangling as you do!--What would I give!--Harkee--I'll settle an hundred a year upon you. --But come, go on, go on--

 SUBTLE. 

 O sir! you quite overpower me--why, if you use me thus, you will draw all my secrets from me at once. --I shall almost kick you down stairs the first lecture. 

 KASTRIL. 

 How!--Kick me down stairs?--Ware that--Blood and oons, sir!

 SUBTLE. 

 Well, well, --be patient--be patient--Consider, it is impossible to communicate the last touches of the art of petulance, but by fist and toe, --by sword and pistol. 

 KASTRIL. 

 Sir, I don't understand you!

 SUBTLE. 

 Enough. We'll talk of that another time. --What I have now to explain is the cool and quiet art of debate--fit to be introduced into the most elegant societies--or the most august assemblies. --You, my angry boy, are in parliament?

 KASTRIL. 

 No, doctor. --I had indeed some thoughts of it. --But imagining that the accomplishments of petulance and choler would be of no use there--I gave it up. 

 SUBTLE. 

 Good heavens!--Of no use?--Why, sir, they can be no where so properly. --Only conceive how august a little petulance--and what a graceful variety snarling and snapping would introduce!--True, they are rather new in that connexion. --Believe me, sir, there is nothing for which I have so ardently longed as to meet them there. --I should die contented. --And you, sir, --if you would introduce them--Eh?

 KASTRIL. 

 Doctor, you shall be satisfied--I'll be in parliament in a month--I'll be prime minister--LORD HIGH TREASURER of ENGLAND--or, CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER!

 SUBTLE. 

 Oh, by all means CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER! You are somewhat young indeed--but that's no objection. --Damn me, if the office can ever be so respectably filled as by an angry boy. 

 KASTRIL. 

 True, true. --But, doctor, we forget your instructions all this time. --Let me see--Ay--first was the QUARREL PREVENTIVE. 

 SUBTLE. 

 Well thought of!--Why, sir, in your new office you will be liable to all sorts of attacks--Ministers always are, and an angry boy cannot hope to escape. --Now nothing, you know, is so much to the purpose as to have the first blow--Blunders are very natural. --Your friends tell one story in the upper house, and you another in the lower--You shall give up a territory to the enemy that you ought to have kept, and when charged with it, shall unluckily drop that you and your colleagues were ignorant of the geography of the country--You foresee an attack--you immediately open--Plans so extensively beneficial--accounts so perfectly consistent--measures so judicious and accurate--no man can question--no man can object to--but a rascal and a knave. --Let him come forward!

 KASTRIL. 

 Very good! very good!--For the QUARREL OPSTREPEROUS, that I easily conceive. --An antagonist objects shrewdly--I cannot invent an answer. --In that case, there is nothing to be done but to drown his reasons in noise--nonsense--and vociferation. 

 SUBTLE. 

 Come to my arms, my dear Kastril! O thou art an apt scholar--thou wilt be nonpareil in the art of brawling!--But for the QUARREL SENSITIVE--

 KASTRIL. 

 Ay, that I confess I don't understand. 

 SUBTLE. 

 Why, it is thus, my dear boy--A minister is apt to be sore. --Every man cannot have the phlegm of Burleigh. --And an angry boy is sorest of all. --In that case--an objection is made that would dumbfound any other man--he parries it with--my honour--and my integrity--and the rectitude of my intentions--my spotless fame--my unvaried truth--and the greatness of my abilities--And so gives no answer at all. 

 KASTRIL. 

 Excellent! excellent!

 SUBTLE. 

 The QUARREL OBLIQUE is easy enough. --It is only to talk in general terms of places and pensions--the loaves and the fishes--a struggle for power--a struggle for power--And it will do excellent well, if at a critical moment--you can throw in a hint of some forty or fifty millions unaccounted for by some people's grandfathers and uncles dead fifty years ago. 

 KASTRIL. 

 Ha! ha! ha!

 SUBTLE. 

 Lastly, for the QUARREL PERSONAL--It may be infinitely diversified. --I have other instances in my eye, --but I will mention only one. --Minds capable of the widest comprehension, when held back from their proper field, may turn to lesser employments, that fools may wonder at, and canting hypocrites accuse--A CATO might indulge to the pleasures of the bottle, and a CAESAR might play--Unfortunately you may have a CAESAR to oppose you--Let him discuss a matter of finance--that subject is always open--there you have an easy answer. In the former case you parried, here you thrust. --You must admire at his presumption--tell him roundly he is not capable of the subject--and dam his strongest reasons by calling them the reasons of a gambler. 

 KASTRIL. 

 Admirable!--Oh doctor!--I will thank you for ever. --I will do any thing for you!

 [Face _enters at the corner of the stage, winks at_ Subtle, _and exit. _]

 SUBTLE. 

 "_Come, Sir, the captain will come to us presently--I will have you to my chamber of demonstrations, and show my instrument for quarrelling, with all the points of the compass marked upon it. It will make you able to quarrel to a straw's breadth at moonlight. _

 Exeunt. "

ARTICLE IX. 

REFLEXIONS UPON THE PRESENT STATE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. BYTHOMAS PAINE, M. A. &c. 8vo. 

The revolution of America is the most important event of the presentcentury. Other revolutions have originated in immediate personalfeeling, have pointed only at a few partial grievances, or, preservingthe tyranny entire, have consisted only in a struggle about the personsin whom it should be vested. This only has commenced in an accurate andextensive view of things, and at a time when the subject of governmentwas perfectly understood. The persons, who have had the principal sharein conducting it, exhibit a combination of wisdom, spirit and genius, that can never be sufficiently admired. 

In this honourable list, the name of Mr. Paine by no means occupies thelowest place. He is the best of all their political writers. Hiscelebrated pamphlet of Common Sense appeared at a most critical period, and certainly did important service to the cause of independency. Hisstyle is exactly that of popular oratory. Rough, negligent andperspicuous, it presents us occasionally with the boldest figures andthe most animated language. It is perfectly intelligible to persons ofall ranks, and it speaks with energy to the sturdy feelings ofuncultivated nature. The sentiments of the writer are stern, and wethink even rancorous to the mother country. They may be the sentimentsof a patriot, they are not certainly those of a philosopher. 

Mr. Paine has thought fit to offer some advice to his countrymen in thepresent juncture, in which, according to some, they stand inconsiderable need of it. The performance is not unworthy of the otherproductions of this author. It has the same virtues and the samedefects. We have extracted the following passage, as one of the mostsingular and interesting. 

 "America has but one enemy, and that is England. Of the English it behoves us always to be jealous. We ought to cultivate harmony and good understanding with every other power upon earth. The necessity of this caution will be easily shewn. For

 1. The united states of America were subject to the government of England. True, they have acknowledged our independence. But pride first struggled as much as she could, and sullenness held off as long as she dare. They have withdrawn their claim upon our obedience, but do you think they have forgot it? To this hour their very news-papers talk daily of dissentions between colony and colony, and the disaffection of this and of that to the continental interest. They hold up one another in absurdity, and look with affirmative impatience, when we shall fall together by the ears, that they may run away with the prize we have so dearly won. It is not in man to submit to a defalcation of empire without reluctance. But in England, where every cobler, slave as he is, hath been taught to think himself a king, never. 

 2. The resemblance, of language, customs, will give them the most ready access to us. The king of England will have emissaries in every corner. They will try to light up discord among us. They will give intelligence of all our weaknesses. Though we have struggled bravely, and conquered like men, we are not without imperfection. Ambition and hope will be for ever burning in the breast of our former tyrant. Dogmatical confidence is the worst enemy America can have. We need not fear the Punic sword. But let us be upon our guard against the arts of Carthage. 

 3. England is the only European state that still possesses an important province upon our continent. The Indian tribes are all that stand between us. We know with what art they lately sought their detested alliance. What they did then was the work of a day. Hereafter if they act against us, the steps they will proceed with will be slower and surer. Canada will be their place of arms. From Canada they will pour down their Indians. A dispute about the boundaries will always be an easy quarrel. And if their cunning can inveigle us into a false security, twenty or thirty years hence we may have neither generals nor soldiers to stop them. "

ARTICLE X. 

SPEECH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDMUND BURKE, ON A MOTION FOR AN ADDRESSOF THANKS TO HIS MAJESTY (ON THE 28TH OF NOVEMBER, 1783) FOR HISGRACIOUS COMMUNICATION OF A TREATY OF COMMERCE CONCLUDED BETWEEN GEORGETHE THIRD, KING, &C. AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 

We were very apprehensive upon Mr. Burke's coming into administration, that this circumstance might have proved a bar to any further additionsto the valuable collection of his speeches already in the hands of thepublic. If we imagined that our verdict could make any addition to thevery great and deserved reputation in which they are held, we should notscruple to say that were Cicero our contemporary, and Mr. Burke theancient, we are persuaded that there would not be a second opinion uponthe comparative merits of their orations. In the same degree as theprinciples of the latter are unquestionably more unsullied, and hisspirit more independent; do we esteem him to excel in originality ofgenius, and sublimity of conception. 

We will give two extracts; one animadverting upon the preliminaries ofpeace concluded by the earl of Shelburne; the other a character of DavidHartley, Esq. 

 "I know that it has been given out, that by the ability and industry of their predecessors we found peace and order established to our hands; and that the present ministers had nothing to inherit, but emolument and indolence, _otium cum dignitate. _ Sir, I will inform you what kind of peace and leisure the late ministers had provided. They were indeed assiduous in their devotion; they erected a temple to the goddess of peace. But it was so hasty and incorrect a structure, the foundation was so imperfect, the materials so gross and unwrought, and the parts so disjointed, that it would have been much easier to have raised an entire edifice from the ground, than to have reduced the injudicious sketch that was made to any regularity of form. Where you looked for a shrine, you found only a vestibule; instead of the chapel of the goddess, there was a wide and dreary lobby; and neither altar nor treasury were to be found. There was neither greatness of design, nor accuracy of finishing. The walls were full of gaps and flaws, the winds whistled through the spacious halls, and the whole building tottered over our heads. 

 Mr. Hartley, sir, is a character, that must do honour to his country and to human nature. With a strong and independent judgment, with a capacious and unbounded benevolence, he devoted himself from earliest youth for his brethren and fellow creatures. He has united a character highly simple and inartificial, with the wisdom of a true politician. Not by the mean subterfuges of a professed negociator; not by the dark, fathomless cunning of a mere statesman; but by an extensive knowledge of the interest and character of nations; by an undisguised constancy in what is fit and reasonable; by a clear and vigorous spirit that disdains imposition. He has met the accommodating ingenuity of France; he has met the haughty inflexibility of Spain upon their own ground, and has completely routed them. He loosened them from all their holdings and reserves; he left them not a hole, nor a corner to shelter themselves. He has taught the world a lesson we had long wanted, that simple and unaided virtue is more than a match for the unbending armour of pride, and the exhaustless evolutions of political artifice. "

FINIS.