DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY^ Treasure "Room Charles R. Sanders, Jr< v-M LETTERS A FATHER TO HIS SON, ON VARIOUS TOPIC? R 1 1 A T I V » TO LITERATURE AND THE CONDUCT OF LIFE, WRITTZN IN TH£ TEARS I79O AND 17a: By J. A I K I N, M. D. PHILADELPHIA j PRINTED BY SAMUEL HARRISON CHERRY- STREET, M.DCC.XCIV. CONTENT So Letter I. INTRODUCTORY, p. 13.— Edu- cation, its purpofes— - Benefits of a copious and varied one — Oppofite plan of our fchools and univerfities, whence derived — Advantage of an unmackled fyftem of life — Purpofe of the fubfequent feries of letters. Letter II. On Strength of Character, p. 19. — Natural and moral procefs of acquiring it— Caufes of weaknefs, falfe fhame — fear of of- fending—fear of giving pain — defire of pleaf- ing all mankind — The writer's own experi- ence. Letter III. On Attachment to the Ancients, p. 27. — Prevalence of this attachment — Mode of determining the comparative merit of ancients and moderns — Man an improve- able being — Poetry — the defcriptive kinds — iv CONTENTS. the higher fpecies — Reafons which have re- tarded its improvement — Veneration for the ancients, partly owing to their language be* ing that of the Chriftian religion. Letter IV. The fame SubjeEl continued^ p # oy. — Philofophy of the human mind — Dead and living languages compared — Man- ners and inftitutions— The ftage — Caufes of prejudices in favour of antiquity — Education and its aflbciations — The merit of an author confounded with that of his work — the merit of a work, with its cafual value — Effects of a dead and foreign language— Purpofe of thefe remarks. Letter V. On the Furju.it of Improve?ne?it i p. 48. — Declamations againit improvement, whence proceeding — their inconfiftency — ■ Perfection mod attainable in civil inftitutions — Examination of the aflertion that princi- ples fpeculatively right, are practically wrong — -Philofophy, what, and its merits — Sneer- ing manner of oppofing it — Serious argu- ments againft it confidered. Lettee VI. On the Love of Applaufc, exe?n- plified in the younger F Hiny , p. 57. — Pliny's epiftles not familiar — their purpofe and cha- racter — Moral effects of love of praife — Pliny a man of virtue — His literary vanity. CONTENTS. V Better VII. On the Story of Circe, p. 62.' — 1 Allegorical interpretations of Homer's fables . — Of that of Circe — The fable confidered — • Objections to its moral purpofe. Letter VIII. On Nature and Art, and the Love of Novelty, p. 69. — The Englifh fchool of arts characterized — Novelty the great requi-, fite to amufement — Its fources, nature an4 art — Neceffity of introducing art — The true object of thofe called imitative — Exemplified in the drama — Dramatic performances of dif- ferent nations — Recitation of Englifh verfe. Letter IX. The former Subjecl continued, p. 79.— Poetical language of tragedy — Nature and purpofe of Paftorai poetry— Romances and novels-^-Doarine of Novelty fummed up. Letter X. On Prejudices, Bigotry, Candour, and Liberality, p. 89.— Prejudice defined— Reafonable and unreaionable prejudices ■ Bigotry, its chara&er— Candour, confounded with charity— -Falfe candour in judgment- Candour of temper— Liberality, diftinguiflietf from indifference — Illiberal tenets, The words exemplified. Letter XI. On Religious Societies, p. 101.W Qn the character of feels— Religious focie : 9 CONTENT ties diftinguiihed frcm fects — their genuine purpofes— -Schiim — Condition and duty of a minitter. Letter XII. On Reply in Contrcvcrfy, p. 1 10. — Story of Meianchthon — Cafe when reply is unneceffary, — Caufes which render it proper — the production of new argument, and mif- reprelentation in matter of fact — The duty of individuals to refute charges againft them. Better XIII. On Clarification in Natural -Hi/lory, p. 117. — Natural progrefs of clari- fying objects — from differences, and from re- femblanccs — Ufes and purpofes of arrange- ment — Natural method — Artificial method — The Linnean fyftem. Letter XIV. On Buffons Natural Hiftory, p. 127. — ButTon characterifed — His principle of diminishing the number of fpecies, by fup- pofing artificial varieties — how far probable — Effects of domcftication — its various ftages — ■ Moral qualities of animals. Letter XV. On Ornamental Gardening, P* *37' — The character of E;nglifh garden- ing — EfTential idea of a garden — An appen- CONTENTS. VII dage to a houfe, and therefore regular — The conftituent parts of aa artificial garden con- sidered — How far the appearance of art dif- gufts — Deceptions of modern gardening — - The two ftyles compared as to novelty ahcl variety. Letter XVI. On Pope's Fjfay vf Criticifin, p. 151. — A proper object of criticifm from its fubject — A truly juvenile performance — Its method — Remarks on particular padages, re- lative to, The critical profeffion — memory, undemanding, and imagination — following nature — imitating the ancients — beauties not reducible to rule— claffical writers— the cha- racter of wit— verification— identity of mufic and poetry— cenfure of admiration— of im- piety. Letter XVII. Vri the Analogy between Men- tal and Bodily Diftafe, p. 170. — General re- femblance of difeafes of body and mind in the means of cure— Operation of contraries, and coercive meafures— Practical application of the doctrine of neceffity— Cafe of one brought up in vice, in the lowed: clafs— in the higher- Vices of certain dates of ibciety— Great remedial proceiTes— Neceflity of calamitous events. a 2 vjii COHTENTi, Letter XVIII. On Spleen and Low Spirit^ p. 1 80. —Frequency of this malady— Green's poem on the Spleen— Neceflity of tempe- rance in preventing low fpirits— Benefit of employment— proper kinds of it— Misfor- tune of high rank in this refpect. Letter XIX. On Confolation, p. 189. —To. whom the office profeffional— The real caufe of forrow on the death of friends— A felfifh emotion, meafured by the lofs— Subftitution the only remedy— Particular confolation to widowers— widows— parents. Letter XX. On the Inequality of Conditions, p. 200.— View of a great city~-H©w far in- equality is neceffary— Human fociety found- ed on the effential qualities of man— Its ne- ceffary confequences.-Purpofe of good go-« vernment, to check natural inequality— Abo- lition of domeftic flavery in Europe— The lower claffes not fo wretched as they feem— Real evils attending them, divided into n£- fcefiary and cafual— The latter the proper ob- jects of remedy— The probable mode. Letter XXI. On the Prevalence of Truth\ p. 212. — Limitations of the maxim that tilth will prevail— Falfe opinions founded on CONTENTS- IS hopes and fears infeparable from man— Su- perftition Hill prevalent, and perhaps, gaining ground— Mode of arguing by which it is fupported — The fame applied to religious fyftems— Certain kinds of religious opinions likely to continue popular— Preparations ne- celTary for the reception of truth— How far truth is likely to prevail— Its benefits. Letter XXII. On Second Thoughts -and Mid- dle CourJeSf p. 22 j. —In what fenfe fecond thoughts are beft— Firft impreflions moll to be depended on in queftions of moral con- duel— So phiftry of the Jefuits— Firft deci- fions of reafon alfo frequently the founded —On what thefe differences depend— When the middle way is not the fafeft— Millhiefs ot compromife. Letter XXIII. On the principal faults of Poetical Tranflatzon, p. 236.— -Purpofe of tranllation, to pleafe, and to inform— Accom- modations neceiTary in tranflating—Dangcr- ous latitude of addition allowed by Dr. John- fon— Pope's Ody{Tey--Tlie different ideas of royalty in different ages, a principal fource of faulty trartflation— exemplified in the tranfiation of the OdylTey— Excels of orna- ment—Exaggeration and hyperbole — Effect of rhyme— Criterion of tranllation, X CONTENTS. Letter XXIV. On Ruins, p. 251.— The pleafure derived from them, a modern idea- Ruins confidered as objects of fight— their value as relics of beautiful architecture— their pi&urefque effects— Confidered as fentimen- tal objecls— what afibciations favourable to this purpofe— Confidered as hiflorical records. Letter XXV. Remarks on an Argument in favour of the reality of Speclral Appearances t p. 262.— Nature of Dr. Johnfon's credulity — Paffage from Raflelas — In what cafes univer- fality of belief, no argument — Conceptions necefTarily formed of departed fpirits — Caufes of delufion— Variations of fpeclol appear- ances — Vifion and reality confounded — Va- rieties of form and circumftance. Letter XXVI. On Cheap Pleafures, p. 273* Love of pleafure allowable— Advantages from a rclifh for the moil; procurable — The fources of thefe enumerated — Books — convention — the ftudy of nature— a taite for the external beauties of nature — the ornamental arts. Letter XXVII. On Attachment to Country, p. 288.— Patriotifm an early paffion— -its ten dency to excefs— Attachment to country as it iufluences opinions— erroneous eftimates ot CONTENTS. X J our country's merits, proceeding from pride and vanity— errors of diflike — Conduct how influenced by attachment to country, and to individuals — migration of friends. Letter XXVIII. On Independence, p. 300.- — Limits of iudepcndence-WVdvantagcs of it—. Whifton and Steel — Horace — Mode of ac- quiring independence — Not owing to abfolute fitualion in life — Its true fources, moderate dcfires, and active induftry — Ancient philofo- phers, and Chriftian afcetics, compared — In- dependence does not require the rejection of favours—How far it is ufeful to contract our wilhes. Letter XXIX. On the Choice of a Wife f p. 312. — Peculiar propriety of parental advice in this matter— Ground of difference of opi-» nion between fathers and fons— The main qualities requifite in a wife, thofe of a com- panion and a helper—Good fenfe and good temper, the effentials— Defects of each with- out the other— Additional qualifications of a helper— Houfe-wifery— Vigour of body and mind— calls for both in a female-— Perfection of female character the fame with that of male— Mifchief of hafty engagements— For- tune and family connexions. Xil CONTENT S- Letter XXX. Valedi&oiy, p. 325. — Chie£ purpofe of the preceding letters—Final admo- nitions. LETTERS 4 A FATHER TO HIS SON, LETTER L INTRODU CTORY. to A. A. You have now, my dear fon, nearly fi- nifhed an education which has been con- dueled upon a plan befb adapted, accord- ing to my judgment, to the prefent ftate of things, and to the fituation you are deftined to occupy. It has been a varied and extenfive plan, comprifing many changes of difcipline, and em- bracing a large field of inftruction. It has, I hope, prepared you both for active and contemplative life ; for the ftudy of books, and of men and nature. It has, I fay, prepared you ; for the education of B 14 LETTER I. the youth can only be preparatory to the puriuits of the man ; and he who is beft enabled, from a comprehensive view of the objects before him, to pofiefs himfelf of thofe which are mod worthy of his choice, is belt educated. For this reafon, I am not afraid of the cenfure ufually pafled upon a copious fcheme of early inftrudlion, — that it is cal- culated rather to make fmatterers in every thing, than proficients in any thing. Let but a folid foundation be laid of thofe ele- mental parts of learning which employ the memory when that is the only faculty in full vigour, and it is immaterial how flight is the fuperftrudlure fir ft erected. 1 would wifh it rather to refemble the scaf- folding of a great building, than the fi- nilhed model of a fmall one. Befides that alrrioft all the branches of knowledge have a mutual connexion and dependence ; it is the only way of preventing narrow prejudices in favour of any one, at the fame time to afford a profpect of fe vera], and alternately to exercife the mind upon each. As reafon ing confifts in the com- -parifdn of ideas, the understanding cannot be fumifiied with too large a flore to work INTRODUCTORY- 1 5 upon. Nor need it be apprehended that confuiion will arife from the early mixture of a variety of objects in the mind ; or that the time ufually allotted for education will prove infufRcient for acquiring the principles of general knowledge. The phy ileal character of the mental and bo- dily frame in youth, is an aptitude for various exertion, but an impatience of confinement to a (ingle one. The mind and body can fcarcely at that period be too much employed, provided employment be judicioufly varied ; and numerous exam- ples have proved, that prodigious acquisi- tions may be made in very early life, by thofe who have proper obje&s prefented to them. I know that fome have chofen to reprefent thefe acquifitions as fugitive, and as calculated rather to make extraor- dinary children, than diftinguifhed men. This is undoubtedly the cafe when the iludies of youth are laid aiide in more ad- vanced years ; but when they are unremit- tingly followed up, I fee no reafon to doubt that the lead gained at the outfet, will be preferved during the courfe. B2 26 iL' E T T t You are apprifed, as well as myfelf, that the "eitabiimed fyflem of fchool and imiverfity education in this country, is as oppofite as poffible to thefe ideas; but we know that this has happened, not in confequence of a preference founded upon fair comparifon, but either of habits and ys of thinking transmitted from gene- ration to generation, or of a necefiity de- rived from the plans of future life. Where honours and emoluments are only to be obtained by particular acquirements, thefe receive a relative importance, which muir continue as long as the fame circumftances exiit. If Greek and Latin be the only pafTports from the fchool to the univerfity ; and Greek and Latin ftill, with antiquated logic, and abftracl mathematics, be the means of induction to degrees and fellow- {hips, and thence of admiflion to lucra- tive offices in church and ftate, they will, without queftion, be the leading objecl.s of attention to thofe who are educated for the purpofe of obtaining thefe offices . But their value in this cafe is properly effional, and ought no more to form a of eflimation for perfons with differ- INTRODUCTORY. I J eni views, than the value of legal and me- dical knowledge to lawyers and phyfi- cians. It is a great advantage attending an unihackled plan of life, that thefe artificial eftimates of things may in good mea- fure be avoided. There is nothing in your deftination which obliges you to pu-rfue any other courfe of ftudy, than that belt fitted to enlarge your mind, and (lore it with the moft effentially valuable products of human knowledge. The fci- ences which will be properly profeflion- al to you, thofe of ethics and theology, liand at the head of fuch as dignify a ra- tional being. Critical and polite litera- ture is not only valuable for the afhftance it affords in;the purfuit of thofe frudies, but for the pure and elevated pleafures it is capable of yielding as an ultimate object. The ftudy of nature under her various forms, which cannot but be pecu- liarly interefting to one who afpires to an acquaintance with the Author of nature, has in it likewife every quality which can render a purfuit delightful. To all thefe the exertions of your mind will naturally l3 LETTER!^ be turned. Their fources will be alike open to you. You have books, leifure, and friends ; but you have no friend who has your improvement more at heart than myfelf. And as the longer tract I have paffed over in the journey of life has, of courfe given me a more exten- five acquaintance with fome of its ob- jects than you can yet have acquired, I truft you will not think your time mif- applied in perufing the reflections on various topics, inftruclive or amufmg, which I mean to communicate to you in a feries of letters. Whether my fenti- ments do or do not meet with your con- currence, you will, by examining them, be led to that freedom of difcuflion, with- out the habit of which no difference ex- ifts between opinions and prejudices, I am, Your truly affectionate father, J. A. ( 19 ) LETTER II. ON STRENGTH OF CHARACTER, DEAR SON, If I can fpeak experimentally to any moral benefit in growing older, it is, that increafmg years augment the ftrength and firmnels of the character. This is a part of the natural progrefs of the human fyf- tem, and is probably as much owing to phyfical as to moral caufes. The dimi- nution of mobility and irritability in the animal frame, muft fortify it againft ex- ternal impreflions, and give it a greater (lability in its action and re-action. So far, however, as this is a corporeal pro- cefs, it cannot be anticipated ; and the young muft be exhorted to wait patiently for this advantage, till it comes to them in due courfe of time, to compenfate for the many privations they mufr undergo. 20 LETTER II. But if an enquiry into the purely moral caufes of the oppofite defects can fugged moral means of obviating them in fome meafure at any period, it will certainly be worth the pains ; for a due degree of firm- nefs and conddency is abfolutely eflential in forming a refpectable character. Let us, then, enter upon fuch an invedigation. On retracing my own feelings, I find that the firft and principal caufe of juve- nile weaknefs is falfe JJoame. The fhame of being fingular, — the fhame of lying under redraints from which others are free, — the fhame of appearing ungenteel, — -are all acutely felt by young perfons in general, and require drong principle or much native drmnefs of temper to fur- mount. Mod of the defections from par- ties and feds in which perfons have been educated, originate from this fenfation, which is perhaps more feduclive to the young, than even intered to the old. It firft makes them hedtate to avow them- felves, and dedrous of palling undiftin- guifhed in mixed companies ; it next leads them to petty deceptions and compliances ; and finifhes with making entire converts of them, frequently with an affe&ation Strength of character, 21 'of extraordinary contempt of thofe whom they have forfaken, in order to prevent all fufpicion of their having been of the num- ber. The belt guard againft this conduct is a ftrong imprefiion of its meannefs. If young men were brought to difcern that cowardice and fervility were the chief agents in this progrefs, their native gene- roiity of fpirit would powerfully oppole fuch a degradation of character. StiM more might be gained by accuftoming them to fet a value upon the circumftance of Handing apart from the mafs of man- kind, and to efteem as honourable everv diftin&ion produced by the exercife of freedom in thinking and acting, I am aware that there is a danger to be avoided on this fide too, and that the pride of fingularity is equally ridiculous and dif- guftful in a young man. But this, I be- lieve, is not the leading error of the times ; which is rather a propenfity to iubmit implicitly to the decifions of fa- fhion, and to value onefelf more upon following, than oppofmg, the manners and opinions of the majority. The fear of offending is another fnare to young minds, which, though commonly 22 LETTER- II, originating in an amiable delicacy of cha- racter, niuil in fome degree be overcome before a manly fteadinefs of conducl can be fupported. Many inrlances have I known, in which the fpecies of adulation called by the Latins ajfentafio, has been cecal irned by a mere dread of giving of- fence by contradiction. But fuch a habit of afTenting to every thing that may be advanced, is in danger of fubverting all our principles; and we may come to iclife from artifice that complaifance which we perceived to be fo agreeable, when only the confequence of modefl de- ference. This is an evil attending the practice, otherwife fo inftructive, of fre- quenting the company of feniors and fu- periors ; and it is only to be counteracted by a mixture of free fociety with equals. Akin to this is the fear of giving pa'nu 1 1 infpires an infuperable repugnance to delivery of difagreeable truths, or the undertaking of unpleafant offices ; things which in the commerce of life are often neceflavy to the difcharge of our duty. In particular, one whofe office it is to ap- . medicine to the mind, mull, as well as the phyiician of the body, conquer his re- STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. £3 luclance to give temporary pain, for the fake of affording lafting benefit. Excels of politenefs deviates into this weakness. It makes no diilinction between faying an unpleafant thing, and faying a rude one. A courfe of fentimental reading is likewife apt to fofler fuch an extreme delicacy- of feeling, as makes the painful duties of the heart infupportable. The mod ef- fectual remedy in this flate of morbid fen- fibility, is an unavoidable neceffity of mixing in the bufmef; of the world, and encouraging all its roughneffes. To per- fons of a retired condition, the bell: fubfti- tute is ftrengthening the mind with the dictates of a mafculine and high-toned philofophy. The defire of pleafing all mankind, which is the counterpart of the two former prin- ciples, is a fertile fource of weaknefs and mutability in fome of the bed difpofitions, It is the quality commonly termed good- nature, and perhaps is in fome meafure national to Englishmen. Young perfons are not only fhemfelves prone to fall into excefs of eafy good nature, but it is the quality that moft readily captivates them C2 24 LETTER IT. in the choice of an early friend. It is i poflible here to blame the difpofition, al- though it be highly important to guard againft the indulgence of it ; for it leads to the very fame imbecility of conduct that falfe fhame and cowardice do. In the courfe of our duties we are almoft as fre- quently called upon to undergo the cenfure and enmity of mankind, as to cultivate their friendfhip and good opinion. Ci- cero, in enumerating the caufes which in- duce men to defert their duty, very pro- perly mentions an unwillinglefs " fufcipere inimicitias," to take up enmities. This is, indeed, one of the fevereft trials of our attachment to principle ; but it is what we muff be ready to fuftain when occalion requires, or renounce every claim to a ftrong and elevated character. When young in life, I derived much fatisfaclion from thinking that I had not an enemy in the world.. A too great fa- cility in giving up my own intereft, when it involved a point of contention, and a. habit of affenting to, or at lead not op- pofmg, the various opinions I heard, had, in fact., preferved me from direcl hoitili->. ties with any mortal, and, I had reafon STRENGTH OF CHARACTER. 25 to believe, had conciliated for me the pajjive regard of moil: of thofe with whom I was acquainted. But no fooner did dif- ferent views of things, and a greater firm- nefs of temper, incite me to an open de- claration refpecling points which I thought highly interelting to mankind, than I was made fenfible, that my former fource of fatisfaclion muft be exchanged for felf-ap- probation and the efteem of a few. The event gave me at firft fome furprife and more concern ; for I can truly fay, that in my own breaft, I found no obftacle to the point of agreeing to differ. It was even fome time before I could conftrue the eftranged looks of thofe, who meant to intimate that they had renounced private friendfhip with me, upon mere public grounds. But enough ! At prefent, I can flncerely aflure you, that I feel more compunction for early compliances, than regret for the confequences of later afler- tions of principle. And it is my decided advice to you, who are beginning „ the world, not to be intimidated from openly efpouling the caufe you think a right one, by the apprehenfion of incurring any mans difpleafure.. I fuppofe this to be done 26 LETTER II. :in the limits of candour, modeftyj and real good temper. Thefe being ob- ferved, "you can have no enemies but thofe who are not worthy to be your friends, Adieu ! ( V ) LETTER ILL ATTACHMENT TO THfi A^r.;: t>EAR SOX, You cannot but have remarked, that, even at this period, there are many whole attachment to the writers of antiquil little inferior to that of the critics and commentators who immediately fucceeded the revival of literature. Wrapt up in profound admiration of them, they fpend their whole time in ftudying their works, in which they find every fpecies of excel- lence in its mod exquifite degree ; and they look down upon the belt perform- ances of the modern;-,, as only hum imitations of the great models which the ancients have (el before them. Every de- viation from their principles, they conlider deviation from 2& LETTER III* prefer a fault fanclioned by their example, to a beauty not reducible to their flandard. How far all this is owing to a juft preference, or a narrow prejudice ; and if the lat- ter, by what modes of thinking it is prin- cipally foltered, cannot be an uninterefV ing inquiry. Many writers have employed themfelves in drawing particular comparifons between fimilar works of the ancients and moderns, and I do not mean to add to the number. It will rather be my attempt to deduce from general reafoning fome principles by which their comparative merit may be determined a priori. This may feem a ftrange mode of deciding upon objects which are capable of being brought to an actual parallel ; but when it is confidered how few can come to the examination without prepoffeflions in favour of indi- viduals, it may be admitted that this me- thod has its advantages. In fad, by the force of early aflbciations, the beauties of our literary favourites ftrike us as the charms of a miftrefs do a lover. We can hardly judge of them foberly — we are all enthuhafm, or all coldnefs. You cannot but have heard, at the recital of the fame ATTACHMENT TO TH£ ANCIENTS; 2Q toiece, toe exclaiming, How divine' ! and others, What wretched fluff! — yet both parties palling for men of taftc. Let us then feek a firmer foundation for our judg- ment. All philofophers agree, that mari is pe- culiarly characterized as an improveable being, not only with refpect to the indi- vidual, but to the fpecies. It is true, many caufes may for a long time fufpend the courfe of improvement, or even occa- fion a retrograde motion ; nor does the ca- pacity for it in the fpecies extend to every attainment of the individual. Many arts depend fo much more upon exercife than upon rule, that the excellence of a parti- cular artift cannot be tranfmitted to a fuc- ceflbr; hence a later age does not itand on the moulders of an earlier one with r'efpect to them* This is very mucii the cafe with the arts of painting and fculp- ture. In thefe after the difcovery of the technical modes of working, and the ex- igence of models iufficiently excellent to direct the tafte of the learner, every ad- vance towards perfection mult proceed from individual talents and induftrw With D 30 LETTER III. a block of marble and a chifel, and a foul touched with the fire of genius, and ha- bituated to the contemplation of fine forms in art and nature, the Grecian fculp- tor called into life his Apollo or Venus, and left to future artifts only to admire and imitate. Among the products of literature, poe- try has been thought peculiarly to refem- ble the arts above mentioned, in foon ar- riving at a perfection, to which after- im- provements of the human fpecies could make no addition. Ingenious differtations have been written to prove, that a fimple ilate of man and nature, as they exift in the firft dawnings of civilization, is the condition molt propitious to poetical at- tempts ; and, in fact, many of the fa- vourite productions of the mufe in various countries date from fuch periods. This theory, fuppcrted as it is by various plau- fible arguments, is, however, in my opi- nion, rather elegant than folid. When language and the art of verification had reached to a certain pitch of refinement, that poetry which confifted in the defcrip- tion of natural obje&s, and of the fimple afTec*lio ns of the heart, might, indeed, at ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCIENTS. 31 once attain excellence ; and the attempts of a more polifhed age to improve upon it, might degenerate into tinfel and con- ceit. Still, however, as nature herfelf does not alter, and as the limpleft man- ners are always exifting among a certain clafs of mankind, a writer of true tafte may at any time excel in delineations of this kind, Inftances of this are likely to happen, when, after long periods of re- finement, the relilh for fimplicity comes round again. This feems to be the cafe among us at prefent ; and he mufc be a very prejudiced reader, who can prefer the literary tafte of the ages of Elizabeth and the Charles's, to that of the prefent day, in refpect to juftnefs and truth. If the pictures of nature exhibited by a Cowper and many other modern poets be compared with thofe of any former age of Englifh poetry, I will venture to afTert, that they will be found beyond compan- ion the moll chafte and exacl. It may here be remarked, that a fimple age is ne- ver fenfible of the merit of its own fimpli- city; but, on the contrary, is fond of lay- ing on with profufion all the ornament it pofTeiTes. This is univerfally true of D2 32 LETTER m. lavages, with refpecl to the decoration of their perfons, and all the little apparatus of their cabins. It is equally true of the language and rude compofitions of a peo- ple Hill barbarous, or only riling towards civilization. Their productions, there- fore, are lefs uniformly fimple than thole of an age which can fully conceive the difference between different ftyles, and pof- fefles judgment enough to exhibit each in its purity. But with refpecl to the higher fpecies of poetical compofitions, there can be no pof- lible reafon to fuppofe that excellence in them will be the growth of an early Itage of civilization, or that it will not in gene- ral keep pace with other choice produces of the mind in their progrefs towards perfec- tion. Uniformity of delign will not exifl. before accuracy of conception, beauty of arrangement, before a juft fenfe of or- der> — propriety of feleclion, before the principle of congruity, — itrength and de- licacy of fentiment, before a habit of ab-. flract thinking,. — fplendour of diclion, be- fore the large and varied ufe of language, Unlefs, therefore, it were in the power of' native genius to overcome impolTibitftiea, ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCIENTS. 33 we mould never expect to fee a capital work, combining all the excellencies of plan, imagery, and fentiment, and at the fame time free from grofs defects, produced in an uncultivated age, or by an illiterate author. But, however probable the progreftive improvement of poetry may appear in theory, it will be faid, that its actual pro- grefs has not correfponded with this fup- pofition. For this, however, various caufes may be amgned t and efpecially the fol- lowing. Some works of extraordinary- merit, and peculiarly calculated to be- come popular, appeared at an early pe- riod, and obtained fuch a high degree of admiration, that they became models in their refpective kinds, and refixidted all fubfequent efforts of genius to mere imi- tation. Thus, from the time of Homer, epic poetry became an artificial composi- tion, whofe rules were in reality drawn from the practice of the Grecian bard, rather than from the principles of nature. Lyric and dramatic poetry were in like manner fixed, though at a later period, by Grecian models ; fo that the Roman wri- ters of fimilar performances could not be 34 LETTER III. fa id to bring any thing of their own to their works. The fame fhackles of imi- tation have hung upon the poetry of mo- dern Europe; whence a fair comparifon of the powers and genius of different pe- riods is rendered fcarcely practicable. The leading fpecies of poetry, like the or- ders of architecture, have come down to us fubject to certain proportions, and re- quiring certain ornamental accompani- ments, which perhaps have had no foun- dation whatever but the cafual practice of the earlieft matters ; nay, pofTibly the whole exigence of fome of the fpecies has had the fame accidental origin. Meantime, the veneration for the an- cients has been raifed to the higheft pitch by this perpetual reference to them as mo- dels; and it has been concluded, that works which have engaged the ftudy, and called forth the imitation of fo many fuc- ceeding ages, muft poffefs a fupreme de- gree of excellence. But after all, their reputation may have been 'much more owing to accident than is commonly fup- pofed. That the Grecian poets, conti- nually recording the deeds of their coun- trymen, and offering incenfe to the na-* ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCIENTS, tional vanity, fliould have been held in high efteem at home, was natural. That the Romans, receiving #11 their literature from Greece fliould adopt its principles and prejudices, was aifo to be expected. But that they fliould tranfmit them to fo large a portion of the civilized world, and this, not only during the period of their domination, but to new races of men, fo many centuries after the downfal of their empire, mult be reckoned accident, as far as any thing in human affairs can be called accidental. Had not the Chriflian reli- gion eftablifhed a kind of fecond Roman empire, even more capable of fwaying the opinions of mankind than the firft, it is highly improbable that we fliould at this day have been commenting upon the elaflical writers of Greece and Rome. It is, indeed aitonifhing to reflect, by what a ftrange concatenation of caufe and effect, the youth of Chriflian Europe fliould be inflruded in the fables of Greek 2nd Latin mythology, which were fallen into con- tempt even before Rome ceafed to be heathen. It certainly has not been on ac- count of their wifdom and beauty that they have furvived the wreck of fo many ^t) LETTER Hie better things. They have been embalmed in the languages which contained them, and which, by becoming likewile the de- pofitaries of Chriftian doctrine, have been rendered facred languages. But it is time to give you a little refpite* ( 37 ) LETTER IV. TriE FORMER SUBJECT CONTINUED. From the tenor of my lad letter, yon nave, doubtlefs, perceived the intended application of my argument a priorL And without hefitation I avow, that the fuppohtion that any kind of intellectual product will not partake of the general improvement of the mind, under hmilar circumftances, appears to me perfectly unphilofophical. While, then, it is ac- knowledged that modern times, in extent and accuracy of knowledge, have far fur- pafTed thofe periods which ought rather to be regarded as the infancy than the anti- quity of the world, I cannot fee why the moralift, the metaphyncian, the hiflorian, the critic, the orator, and the poet, too, mould not be benefited by the progrefs. Horace has faid, " that the fcurce of good E LETTER IV. writing is good fenfe ;" and what is this, but the remit of reafon operating upon experience? It may, indeed, be urged, that there are certain topics, upon which, r men in a ftate of civilization have once begun to think, little additional knowledge can be gained by experimental or fcientific proceffes ; and the philofophy of the human mind may be given as an inftance- Every man bearing about him, and viewing round him, the fubjeel of this kind of inveftigation, no length of time or foreign aid feems wanting to enable him to carry it as far as his faculties will permit. And it is probably true, that icarcely any points of moral and meta- phyfical fpeculation efcaped the acute re- search of the numerous Grecian fchools which devoted their whole attention to itudies of this kind; nor at the prefent day do many of thefe points feem nearer being fettled than they were two thpufand years ago. Yet, if the ancients treated •them with as much fubtilty and ingenuity as the moderns, the latter will, I believe, be generally allowed to have excelled in clearnefs of arrangement, and folidity of argumentation ; fo that where certainty is Attachment fo the ancients. 30 \ibt now attained, there is great reafoil to fuppofe it unattainable. And I can fcarcely conceive, that many perfons, af- ter making themfelves makers of the mo- dern theories refpecting the mind, will think it worth while to retrace the laby- rinth oi ancient rhetdphyfic. The limitation I made of the iuperiority of modern writers to cafes in which the circumftances were finiilar, would probably be made much ufe of by a zealot for anti- quity, who would attempt to (hew, that the language, manners, and inftitutions of the ancients gave them, in a variety of in- flances, peculiar advantages over the mo- derns. As to language, however, let the intrirtfic pre-eminence of the Greek and Latin be placed ever fo high, ftill, with refpect to us, they are dead languages, in which We could not read a fehtence fo as to be underftood, or write a ihort com- pohtion fo as not to be ridiculed, by an old Greek and Roman. I am far from charg- ing with affectation thofe who fall into raptures with the verlification of Virgil and Horace, or the numerous profe of Plato and Cicero. I am perfuaded that E2 4° L £ T T E R IV. by long -attention they have brought them- felves to a perception of fomewhat excel- lent, though it be a different thing from the real excellence. But can it be doubted, that the fame attention paid to one's own, or another living language, the true pro- nunciation and all the delicacies of which may with certainty be known, will afford at leaft as folid and rational a pleafure ? Lan- guage and modes of thinking have a clofe connexion with each other; and where the latter become more accurate and me- thodical, the former muff neceffarily im- prove in force and precifion. New ideas muff likewife require new words ; as know- ledge, therefore, advances, languages muff become richer, and that, not only in dired terms, but in figurative and allufive ex- preffions. The former is an advantage in accuracy, the latter in eloquence ; and it would be a vain attempt to transfufe into clafiical Greek and Latin the clofe argu- mentation of a Hume, and the excurfive rhetoric of a Burke. With regard to the changes which manners and institutions have undergone, though this may, in fome few inftances, have rendered modern times lefe favour- ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCIENTS. 4I able than the ancient to modern ftudies, as particularly thofe to which great emulation was formerly attached by means of public rewards and applaufes, yet this caule can- not have operated to any coniiderable ex- tent upon literature ill general. There can never want motives to excel in what is truly valuable ; and though the fpecies of encouragement may vary, the effect will be fimilar. If oratory among the ancients had more fcope at the bar, with us it has more in the fenate ; and that of the pulpit is an entirely new creation. If the plaudits of afTembled Greece were ani- mating in a high degree to dramatic at- tempts, thofe of a modern theatre, en- forced by the folid benefits of a third night, are fcarcely lefs fo : — though I do not mean to inftance the theatre as one of the beft fchools of tafte ; but neither was it in the age of Auguftus. Horace, you know, complains that, even among the knights, pleafure had migrated from the ears to the eyes ; and the Roman ftage might at leaft vie with thofe of the Haymarket and Co- vent Garden, in procefhons and triumphs. Nay, I cannot but fufpecl, that in the moft brilliant times of Greece, the chorulTes 4- LITTER IV. rind the whole Jeii de thcjfrewtre more :\d- drerTed to the love of extraordinary fpec- tacles in a wondering populace, than to the iudsrnent of fober critics. But I mall not further purfue compan- ions between particular kinds of literary productions, at different periods. My purpofe was rather to fjggefi: general principles of judging, which might ferve as a counterpoife to the prepofYeiTicns ufu- ally entertained on thefe fubjects. In con- formity with this defign, I {hall conclude Tny letter with fome remarks on the caufes which have faltered an unreafonable at- tachment to the writers of antiquity. Education has been the primary fource of thefe prejudices. For many centuries, all the literary characters in Europe have been fed and nurtured with the daffies, and have employed the bed years of their lives in attempting to underfland and imi- tate them. Aflbciations thus cemented, are fcarcely ever to be diublved. Every fentiment of the foul is interefted in pre- them, and the paffions rife up to defend the decrees of the judgment. Even which ought to re- is from t". e: T " day's experience* ATTACHMENT T3 7117. ANCIENTS. 43 have for ages been chained to the fchools pf thefe early mailers. In my own pro- feflion, how many writers cf real talents do I find, who heiitate to admit a cotem-r porary truth when oppofite to the authority of Hippocrates and Galen. A: prefent, .indeed, this fervitude is prettv well over in our country ; but learned foreigners ililj take a great deal ol unneceuary and fruit- lefs pains to reconcile the maxims of mo-r tlern experience with the premature die- fates of the fathers of phyfic. Pride < curs with prejudice in maintaining the value of what we have diftinguifhed our- felves in acquiring ; and the credit of thofe acquiiitions by which literary honours arc obtained, muft be fupported for the lake pf the honours themfelves. This general impreilion in favour of ancient literature, is fubjecl to particular caufes of fallacious judgment. One of thefe is, the common practice of con- founding the merit of the writer with thai: of his work; as if fuperior abilities fhouid always produce fuperior performances. But though the inventor Hands higher in the feale of genius than the improver, y^t the workmanfhip of the latter will in 44 LETTER IV. many refpecls be more perfect than that- of the former. This is fufficiently obvious- in pieces of mechanifm, and other works of mere utility; where it would be" thought a ftrange prejudice to prefer the' original draught of the moft ingenious ar- tift, to the improved copy of his journey- man. And why mould not the fame ob- servation apply to the mechanical parts, at leaft, fuch as the plan and difpofition of a literary defign? Although the article of claflical faith, that " Homer was the greateft poet who ever exifted," be ad^ mitted in its full extent, the general fupe- riority of the Iliad to the ^Eneid or Para- dife Loft, will not follow as a legitimate confequence. Another deception is, confounding the merit of a performance with its cafual value. Every thing which conveys in- formation of the manners and fentiments of a remote age, is a fit fubjed for liberal curiofity; and thofe remains of antiquity which abound in fuch information deferve the attentive ftudy of the plilofopher as well as the philologer. But this value, in many caies, arifes more from the faults than the excellencies of a writer, whole ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCiEXTS. 45 minute, details of common occurrences, or references to idle and extravagant fables, may deform his work as a production of genius, while they afford high gratification to the curious antiquary. Had Homer compofed another Iliad inllead of an Odyfley, he would probably have exhi- bited much more fublimity 01 conception, and grandeur of defcription, of both which the Odyfley contains very faint traces i but we mould have loft a copious ffore of information concerning the arts and do- meftic manners of that early period, which no other work could fupplv. The circum- fiance of language comes under this head of extrinfic value. To trace the progrefs of men's ideas, by means of the expreffions in which they clothed them — to view terms derived from fenfible objects graduallv transferred to intellectual notions, and fim- ple energies receiving their fuccefnve mo- difications — is highly interefting to the phi- lofophic mind. Hence men of fpeculation have always been defirous of knowing a multiplicity of languages; and they have read with eagernefs very inferior compo-' 46 LETTER IV. virions, if tranfmitted in the tongue of a jemote age. Further; a foreign, and flill more, a dead language, never gives us its matter with exactly the fame impreflions as we mould receive from it in our own. Many beauties are loft, but, in return, many im- perfections are concealed. And, in parti- cular, the air of tritenefs and vulgarity which ever attends performances of infe- rior rank in our native language, is thrown off by allying the matter with words which can never be quite familiar to us. Many a moral fentiment which, would make an Ordinary figure in Englifh, flrikes us with the force of a deep maxim in Latin or Greek, and dwells on our me- mory. This, indeed, is a real advantage arifing from the fludy of thofe languages ; but it is not to be placed to the account of peculiar excellence in their writers. To what purpofe have I addrefled to you all thefe observations? Moft certainly not to perfuade you to lay afide your favourite claflics, which, befides the folid pleafure and inftruclion they are capable of affording you, are, in fome meafure, ATTACHMENT TO THE ANCIENTS. 47 profeffional objects of your ftudies. In- dulge a liberal admiration of their excel- lencies. Imprint their beauties upon your imagination, and their morals upon your heart. But do not be feduced to regard as models of perfection, what were only the experiments of early art — do not think that the powers of men have de- clined, while their advantages have in- creafed — and, above all, do not decide by ancient authority, what can be brought to the fair tell of modern reafon. Farewell J ¥2 ( 4* } LETTER V. SUIT OF IMPROVEMEX' You have frequently, I queftion nou. been difgufted with the common cant em- ployed againft all projeds for improve- ment, u that perfection is a thing not at- tainable here below — that every thing hu- man muft partake of the defects of human nature — that it is a folly to aim at impoffi- bilities" — and the like^ This language, which might with equal truth have been held at every flage of human advance- ment, is therefore equally trivial in all ; and he who admits that it would have been an injury to mankind if ten centuries ago it had operated to difcourage attempts for improvement, can. give no fuflicient reafon. why it would not be fo at the prefent day. If you confider the perfons from whom this lira in of declamation proceeds, you I infallibly find it to have its origin in- PURSUIT OF IMPROVEMENT. ^Q, ignorance, weaknefs, or felfKhnefs. Often m ignorance, the declaimer being neither fufficiently informed of the prefent Irate of the art or feience to which he refers, nor difcerning the means for its further ad- vancement. Often in weaknefs — want of energy of temper and force of underitand- ing to fupport a vigorous exertion. Of- tener than all infelfijhnefs, when perfonal advantages are derived from prefent de- feds, which would be endangered by any attempts to amend them. Every gene- rous and elevated fpirit will inculcate maxims direclly the reverfe; — that perfec- tion is the point conitantly to be aimed at, whether attainable or not ; and that no purfuit beneficial to mankind has h 'therto been brought to a Hate in which it is inca- pable of further progrefs. This is admitted to be the cafe with refpect to perfonal ad- vances in religion and virtue, even by thofe who are the lead inclined to improvement in general — for it is alTerted by authority, which they dare not contradict. It is likewife readily acknowledged, with re- fpect to moil of thole arts and fciences*, the free progrefs of which does not oppofe - the intevelts of individuals. And it feems 50 L R T T E R V. impoflible to affign a reafon why the fame maxims mould not apply to every fubject in which the human faculties are engaged, provided it does not relate to things ma- nifeftly beyond their reach. If perfection be any where attainable, it would feem to be peculiarly in thofe inftitutions which are the creatures of man — in which he has a fpecific end and purpofe in view, in- volving no wills or powers but his own — which are purely matters of convention between man and man, that may be made whatever he choofes to make them. Such are all the regulations belonging to civil fo- ciety. In thefe concerns, if the end be firft precifely laid down, and if experience be faithfully confulted as to the fuccefs of dif- ferent means, it is fcarcely poflible that continual progrefs mould not be made, as the world advances in reafon and know- ledge, towards a perfect coincidence of means and end. You may probably have met with the affertion, that " in the fcience of politics, all principles that are fpeculatively right, are practically wrong." This fentence was the fally of a witty writer, who is much more diftinguifhed for faying lively things PURSUIT OF IMPROVEMENT. £l than folid ones. Like other paradoxes* it will not bear examination. It carries a palpable contradiction on its very face ; for in a practical fcience, the proof of the rec- titude of its fpeculative principles is only to be found in their agreement with pra&ice. What fhould we fay of a fyitem of per- spective, the rules of which gave every figure falfe and diftorted ; or a fyftem of menfuration, by which no one meafure turned out right? The reafon afligned by the writer for the oppofition between principles and practice in the inftance he adduces, is, that the principles are founded upon the fuppofition that man acts rea- sonably — which he does not. This re- mark is evidently an ebullition of fplene- tic fatire ; but were it juft, the legitimate concluiion would be, that the principles were erroneous ; for if man be really not a reafonable creature, they erred in repre- senting him as fuch. To whatever clafs he belongs, it will not be denied that he is actuated by motives ; and thefe motives it is the great bufinefs of thofe who plan fyf- tems of law and government to difcover. Such fyftems alone can be Speculatively as well as practically right; and in them the ^2 L E T T E R V. theory can no more be at variance with the practice, than caufe with effect. The writer's affertion, therefore, is a mere fo- phifm, which I mould not have thought worthy of refutation, had I not obferved it triumphantly repeated, as the mature conclufion of a fage in worldly affairs, by perfons who concur with him in diflike to appeals to firft principles in this and fome other matters. The truth is, they believe man to be pofleffed of more reafon than they are willing to allow, and it is his rea- fon that they are afraid of. To refolve things into their firft princi- ples is philofophy, the nobleft employment of the mind, and that which alone confers a title to real wifdom. Without a portion of it, the experience of a long life may only ferve to accumulate a confufed mafs of opinion, partly true, partly falfe, and leading to no one certain conclufion. The want of a phiiofophic mind makes many men of bufmefs mere plodders, and many men of reading and even of obfervation, mere retailers of vague unconnected no- tions. Order, precihon, concatenation, analylis, are ail the remits of philofophy. Yet even this word, as you muff have re- PURSUIT OF IMPROVEMENT. 53 marked, as well as thofe of improvement and reformation, has been the fubject of obloquy. It has been branded with the epithet of impious by the bigot, of arrogant by the cautious, and of viiionary by the dull. It has drawn down the anathemas of the ferious, and the ridicule of the light. Above all, it has been treated with that ironical fneer, which is fo common a re- fource to thofe who are confcious of beimr deficient in argument. " Thank heaven! I am no philofopher; I pretend not to be wifer than thofe who have gone before me. I do not boaft of the difcovery of new principles. I mult beg leave to re- tain my antiquated notions notwithftand- ing philofophers call them prejudices'' — Thefe flowers of polemical rhetoric, which decorate fo many fermons, ipeeches and eflays, though they have loft the attraction of novelty, are yet of no fmall efficacy in fwaying trivial minds; and the argumen- ium ad verecundiam to which they appeal > is apt to overpower unaffuming modefty. Such a ftrain of frothy infolence is be ft difconcerted by admitting it ferioufly as an honeft confeflion of inferiority. I would G 54 L E T T £ E V, fay — " I know you are not a philosopher — I never took you for one — your educa- tion and habits of life have difqualified you from all pretentions to the character — your opinions are mere prejudices, and do not merit a refutation." But if there be thofe who bona fide are afraid of philofophy, becaufe very mif- chievous doctrines have been propagated under its name, let them be told, that what they dread is only the ufe of reafon in a large way, and upon the moil impor- tant fubje&s* ; and that if, on the whole, we are better for the gift of reafon, though fome abufe it, we are likewife better for afpiring to be philofophers, though fome falfely and for bad purpofes arrogate the title. A very common topic of railing againft philofophy, is the extravagant and contradictory opinions held by the ancient fchools of philofophers. But with whom cught they to be compared? Not with thofe who have been enlightened by diredl revelation, but with the vulgar and bigots of their own times, who mrplicitely received all the absurdities which fraud and fuper- * Hujus opus unum eft, de divinis humanifque verunv inyenire* Sentc, PURSUIT OF IMPROVEMENT. 55 flition had foifted into their fyftems of faith. If, by the efforts of unaided philo- sophy, out of a people thus debafed, could be raifed a Socrates, an Epicletus, an An- toninus, what honours fhort of divine, are not due to it? Nor have its fervices to mankind in later ages been much lefs con- spicuous ; for not to iniift on the great ad- vancements in art and fcience which have originated from natural philofophy, (iince they are queftioned by none) what man of enlarged ideas will deny, that the philofophy of the human mind, of law, of commerce, of government, of morals, and, I will add, of religion, have greatly contributed to any fuperiority this age may claim over former periods? If philofophy thus employed have occaftoned fome evils, a more cor- rect and diligent ufe of the fame will re- move them. If erroneous conclufions have been drawn from a partial or pre- mature induction of fads, they will be rec- tified by a future more extenfive induction. After all, no medium can pofiibly be af- iigned between reafoning freely, and not reafoning at all — between fubmitting im* plicitly to any human authority, and to G 2 56 L E T T E R V. We are placed in this world with a va- riety of faculties, and of objecls on which to excercife them. Doubtlefs, there are in nature limits which we cannot pafs ; but? what man (hall prefume to mark them, out for other men ? — What man fhall fay to his fellow-men, I permit you to exer- cife your reafon upon thefe obje&s, but I forbid you from exercihng it on thofe? Many, indeed, have fo prefumed ; but the friends of truth and mankind have ever refilled their ufurped authority. For you, my dear Son, I do not appre- hend that you will be backward in afTerting trie nobleft prerogative of man. Of all improvements, that of your own mind is of the molt confequence to you. It is likewife that the moft in your power, and in the purfuit of which you will be leaf! liable to thwart the interefls and prejudices of others. Remember, however, that the fureft mark of progrefs is a full perception of the difproportion between acquisitions, already made, and thofe which remain to, be made. Adieu? ( 57 ) LETTER VI, W THE LOVE OF APPLAUSE, EXEMPLIFIED IN THE YOUNGER PLINY. DEAR SON, It has for fome years been my cufrom, after the perufal of an author, to note down the general impreflions it left on the mind ,- and this practice, which I began as ufeful to myfelf, I have followed with more attention, iince I reflected that it might be rendered of fome utility to my children. It may therefore not unfrequently happen, that fuch remarks afford the fubjed of a letter ; and at prefent I mean to commu- nicate to you my reflections on the elegant and inftruftive Epiftles of Pliny. Dr. Johnfon's obfervation concerning the fallacy of the common notion, that a man lays open his mind without difguife in his familiar correfpondence, would be 58 LOVE OF APPLAUSE. ftrikingly confirmed by thefe letters, pro- vided they could properly be termed fami- liar. But though many of them are ad- drerTed to 'the moll intimate friends he had in the world, and relate to perfonal topics, yet as we know that they were publifhed by the writer himfelf, after they had un- dergone his revillon and correction, we may be arTured that their purpofe was not the fimple effufion of his mind. In fact, the evident dehgn of almoft every letter in the collection is, as we commonly exprefs it, to fit himfelf off 5 for they turn upon fome a<3 of munificence which he had per- formed, fome inftance of his literary and oratorical reputation, his attachment to itudy, his philofophical temper of mind, his love of virtue, in fhort, upon fome- thing that may heighten his character in the idea of his correfpondent. His lead- ing foible, indeed, the third of applaufe, they very amply exhibit ; for he neither wifhed to conceal it, nor could he do it confidently with his purpofe of obtaining apphufe. But we (hall in vain look-for any touches of nature which may mate us acquainted in other refpects with the man. \% fo varnifhed over with fplendid fen- LETTER VI, 59 timents, and elegancies of thought, and ex- prefhon, that no peculiar features are dif- cernible. The fubject of every- letter is a theme, on which the fined things are to be faid ; and we are continually tempted to believe, that the benevolent or generous aclion he relates, was done for the exprefs purpofe of difplaying it to a friend in its faireft colouring. Yet fince, from the concurring tedimo- ny of writers, we know that Pliny was m reality a mod exemplary charader both in public and private life, another inference to be drawn is, that the love of admiration, how much foever it may deferve the name of a zveaknefs, is not on the whole unfa- vourable to virtue. The defire of praife is a motive to do that which we think may deferve praife. This may occafionally, in perfons of a corrupted tafte, lead to en- deavours at excelling in trivial and ufelds performances; but it can fcarcely ever lead to adions manifestly bafe and flagi- tious. And on thofe who have formed a juft fenfe of what is praife-worthy, its operation will be beneficial, by engaging felf-love as an auxiliary to virtuous prin- ciples, ' 60 LOVE OF APPLAUSE. The age of Pliny abounded in charac- ters of the pureft virtue. It would feem as if the (hocking and deteflable forms in which vice had exhibited herfelf under the worft of the Roman emperors, had awakened in mankind a double admira-. tion of her oppofite. At the fame time, the refined civility of the age had foftened the rigid morality of the old Romans into a fyftem in which the humane virtues had their proper place. Trained in the . bell principles, and early imbued with venera- tion for the nobleft characters, Pliny courted the public efteem by an imitation of exalted worth ; and if his virtue was not of the complexion of that which can content itfelf with its own confcioufnefs, yet it was fufficiently founded in habit and conviction, to induce him to be what he wifhed to appear. In every age and coun- try, the public will have reafon to be am- ply fatisfied, if its men of rank and high office (hall be Plinies. The vanity of this writer appears leaft refpeclable when it turns upon literary fubjecis. It was his ardent defire to be thought, not only an excellent pleader and rhetorician, but a proficient in every kind tOVE OF APPLA'USE. 6l «f compofirion*, profe or verfe, light or fe- rious. That his fondnefs for difplaying himfelf, rendered him extremely prolix, may be judged, not only from his boaftfui relations of pleadings of five or fix hours at a time, and his frequent commendations of good hearers* but from his laboured and diffufe panegyric on Trajan* I doubt not that the patient and even applaufive attention to his long declamations and re- citations, of which he fo often informs his friends, proceeded rather from a refpecl to his character, and a wifh to pleafe him, than from the real fatisfaction of his audi- tors. From various paffages in his letters we may difcover that application was made to this foible by perfons who were defirous of ingratiating themfelves in his favour. This is the danger of an exceffive love of applaufe ; — not that it mould vitiate the heart, but that it mould corrupt the judg- ment, and lay a man open to the ridicule of the malignant, and the artifices of the defigning* Farewell f H C Ai arguments on the oppofite fide, and to refufe others that liberty of judgment which we ourfelves affume* Candour is in ioiiie meafure the oppo- fite of bigotry ; for it's eflence c'onfrfts in a difpofition to form a fair and impartial judgment on opinions and actions. In the common ufe of the word we feem to in elude a leaning towards a more favourable* judgment than is ftriclly true. But this appears to me to be deviating from the proper fenfe of candour, into that of charity y which, as the Apoftle defcribes it^ "think- eth no evil." Now, a perfon cannot have been long and intimately acquainted with mankind, without feeing reafon too often to think a great deal of evil of mens mo- tives and principles of action; and if he imputes to them no more than the rules of jufr inference warrant, I imagine he is not chargeable with the violation of can- dour. There is an affectation of candour which t cannot but think very detrimental to the interefts of truth and virtue. It is, when in fpeaking or writing, a complai- fant credit is given to men's own expoli- Ms g-6 L E T T E R X. tions of their motives, in actions which to the common fenfe of mankind explain themfelves upon totally different princi- ples. If the hypocritical cant of morals difplayed in rnanifeftos, apologies, declara- tions,, and other appeals to the public in fufpici-ous caufes, is, from a notion of can- dour, to be treated with deference, what mud be inferred, but that candour is a very weak, or a very worldly principle ? Clofelv connected with univerfal profli- gacy, is univerfal indulgence ; and if ex- cufes are readily admitted to palliate or explain away manifest violations of ho- nour and honefty, the great barriers be* tween right and wrong will be in danger of being overthrown. Certain things which are customarily done, are yet fo clearly wrong, that we cannot be made to feel them otherwife without debauching our principles or understanding. If we fee men, whofe general characters we love and efteem, falling through strong temp- tation into thefe errors, it is a much better exercife of candour to dwell upon every virtue they poffefs, and fet it to their cre- dit in counter-balance to one failure, than PREJUDICE, BIGOTRY, &C. QJ to vindicate them from the failure itfelf, by falfe reafonings or improbable fuppofitions. The word candour may, however, be underftood, as referring chiefly to the qualities of the heart, and implying that whitenefs or purity of foul, which infpires the defire of maintaining friendly difpofi- tions towards all mankind ; and which in itfelf, at leaft, finds no cauie to judge harfhly of others. And the continuance of this propenfvty through all periods of life is highly defirable, fince it will prove the beft prefervative againft virulence and acrimony in controverfial debates, and will fend to heal thofe wounds on focial com- fort, which bigotry is perpetually inflict- ing. This fpirit is fo beautifully defcribed in fome lines of Cronus' s poem on the death of Arminius, that I cannot refrain from tranfcribing them. Cui caritate temperata libertas Certat manere diflidentibus concors : Piaeque purus aequitatis affe&us, Damnatus aliis, ipfe neminetn damnat ; Modeftiaeque limitem premens, donat Nunc verba vero, nunc filentium pad. Liberality is a word perhaps of more indeterminate ufe than any of the former. Its proper meaning, when applied to ien- Q& LETTER Xi timent, feems to be, that generous exp&ti* fion of mind which enables it to look be- yond all petty diftinclions of party and iyftem, and in the eftimate of men and things, to rife fuperior to narrow preju- dices. From its metaphorical relation to bounty, it indicates free allowance, unftinted by rigid rules. The liberal man, like the fenate of ancient Rome, is fond of largely extending the relation of fellow-citizen- {hip, and loves to admit all mankind to a fraternal (hare of the regard of their com- mon Parent, The chief difficulty in ad^ jufting the claims to liberality in contro- verfial points, arifes from the pretentions that mere indifference often makes to it. But though it be admitted, that without fomewhat of an imprefiion of the uncer- tainty or comparative unimportance of the fubjedls about which difputants are fo much divided, it is fcarcely poflible to re- gard them with a liberal fpirit, yet this Hate of mind is not of itfelf liberality. It may, and often does, produce an arro- gant and contemptuous mode of treating opponents not arrived at fo happy a de- gree of laxity, which is as really contrary PREJUDI-CE, BIGOTRY, &C. ()rt to the fpirit of liberality, as the oppofite iiriclnefs can be. It muft, however, be confefled, that there is in the very nature of fome tenets, fome thing fo efientially adverfe to libe- rality, that they never can be imagined to fubfift together. A man who is fo unfor- tunate as to believe that all but thofe of his own way of thinking are doomed to eternal reprobation, can fcarcely, what- ever be the native temper of his mind, view with any thing like liberal allowance the opinions oppofed to his own, or the attempts to propagate them. How can he give the hand of fraternity to one whom he fuppofes the inveterate foe of God and man ? How can he raife himfelf above differences, which in his own eftimation rife infinitely beyond every thing elfe ? Among the caufes we have for thank- fulnefs, it is not the leaft confiderable, that we have been taught to regard the whole human race as one family, all capable of rendering themfelves approved by their common Father, who, in allotting them different portions of light and knowledge, has certainly not expecled from them an Uniformity of belief and practice. IOO LETTER X. I conclude with a brief exemplification of the ufe of the terms in queftion. When Jefus preached, Prejudice cried, " Can any good thing come out of Naza- reth ?" " Crucify him, crucify him, ex- claimed Bigotry. " Why, what evil hath he done?" remonftrated Candour. And Liberality drew from his words this infer- ence, " In every nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteoufnefs, is accepted with him." Your truly affectionate, &c. ( — ) LETTER XL ON RELIGIOUS SOCIETIES. bEAR SON> We have read together an EJJay on Seffs andEjlablifhmenls, with an admiration in which we might fufpect an allowable partiality, had not the unbiailed voice of the public given an equal attestation to its merit. The truly philofophical view it has taken of the fubjecl, and the novel and acute observations witli which it abounds, exprelied with a chara&eriftic force and brilliancy of language, have fairly entitled it to the rank of a inafter- piece in its kind. The home truths it contains have not> I believe, been uni- verfally reliflied, but they have command- ed the aflent of impartial obfervers. Pof- iibly, however, forne of the ideas given in N *02 LETTER XI. it concerning Seffs, are rather hiftoricarlly than effentially true ; and new rtates of opinion and manners may arife, in which different principles mull: be called in for the purpofe of determining on their cha- racter and fate. Inafmuch as feds are the counterparts of eftablifliments, the fpirit of the one muff depend upon that of the other; and it may happen, that without any manifeft change in an efla- blifhment, its influence on men's minds may be fo much altered, as materially to alter the nature of diffent from it. I will not fay that this has actually taken place among us ; yet in proportion as the full right in every individual to choofe his mode of religion is commonly admitted, as penalties and difabilities are foftened or abolifhed, and as men are accuflomed to view with unconcern- different fyflerrrs of faith and worfhip, it i3 evident, that the circumftance of belonging to a feci or an eftablilhment, will produce lefs effect upon manners and character. In this Hate of tilings, indeed, according to the doctrine of the EfTay,- the caufe of Sects will infallibly decline ; but I know not whether the fpirit of forming religious focieties will not, on- ON RELIGIOUS SOCIETIES. IO3 the contrary, gain ground. It appears to me that this is already the fpirit of many feparatifts, who, while they have loft all attachment to feds, as confuting of united bodies known by particular designations, have by no means become indifferent in their choice of religious inftitutions. By a religious fociety, in contradistinction to a feft, I under Hand limply this — that a number of perfons of a fimilar way of thinking, for no other purpofe than merely to enjoy to the greateft advantage their own tafles and opinions in religion, aflbci- ate to form a congregation. It is per- fectly immaterial to them (further than as they may wifli the prevalence of what they molt approve) whether or no there exiit any other fuch fociety in the world. Re- ligion is to them merely a perfonal affair, unconnected with other interefts ; and their only motive for afibciating in it at all, is that they find a duty or advantage in Social worfhip, which compels them to adopt means for its performance. They have nothing to do either with attack or defence, unlefs the grand and univerfal principle of the right of private judgment N2 104 LETTER in matters of religion be called-in quefti'oru In fupport of that, they make a common caufe with all other feparatifts, and fo far they act as fecfaries : but otherwife, they have nothing more to difcufs with the efbHifliment, than with any detached ib- ciety like themfeives. As their purpofe is fimple, they find no reafon to (land apart from the reft of the world in any thing elfe. Having, indeed, avowed a ferious attachment to religion, by exerting an ac- tive choice in the mode, they are fenfible that immoralities would appear peculiarly inconfiftent in them, and that in things of a dubious nature, it is more becoming their characters to incline to ftriclnefs than laxity. It will probably be objected to this idea of the formation of religious focieties, that they would foo.n want zeal fufficient to keep them together. But, in the firil place, what in this cafe is the dejideratum ? — not to increafe the numbers of blind followers of a name or a doctrine, but to provide for the wants of thofe to whom foeial religion is really an object of fe- lection. To fuch perfons, differences r-c abfolutely eflential, will yet appear ON TtELIGtOUS SOCIETIES. lor; oi Tome importance ; and as even in things indifferent, we conceive it an efli- mable privilege to exert a free choice, it would feem not likely that this liberty fhould be undervalued, in a matter a! leafl connected with a thing of fupreme confequence. Then, in fact, many of thofe doctrines upon which feparate con- gregations are formed, are in a high de- gree important, relating to nothing lefs than the object of divine uorfhip, and the conditions of acceptance in a future Hate. And while ellabliihed churches, and even ancient feels, remain flationary, fome of thefe doctrines are making an accelerated progrefs. While, therefore, religion con- tinues to exert an influence over the mind, and the fpirit of liberty retains its activity, it can fcarcely be fuppofed, that a fuccef- iion of voluntary focieties will ceafe to be formed, adapted to the varying or pro- greflive (late of religious opinion, although they are unfupported by the peculiar man- ners or intereits of a feci. Peculiarity of manners, though it undoubtedly tends to draw clofer the bands of union in a fociety, yet offers an additional obflaclc to thofe who may be inclined to enter it, and dif- 106 LETTER XI. pofes many the more readily to quit it. It has likevvife the bad effed of diverting the attention from points of real import- ance, to trifles ; and of narrowing the heart, by carrying into life diftin&ions only meant for the temple. It is always better to refer our actions to one great and decifive principle, than to many fubordi- nate ones. The exercife of private judg- ment in matters of religion, may well ftand upon its own fingle ground, without call- ing in the aid of petty concomitants. The caufe of feparation has gained one confiderable advantage in the prefent age, which is, that we fcarcely hear any more of the Jin of Jchifm, with the apprehenfion of which timid confciences were formerly difturbed. Long ago, indeed, John Hales faid, tn his Tratf on Schifrn, (never pub- limed, however, in his works, till 1721) 4t wherefoever falfe or fufpe&ed opinions are made a piece of the church-liturgy, he that feparates is not the Jcbijmatic" The impoflibility of fubftantiating this charge againft a party fp as that it might not eafily be retorted, and the futility of every fcheme propofed for comprehension, as it was called, feem to have made the minds of ON RELIGIOUS SOCIETIES. loj men eafy in this particular. Still further, the fuppofed fin itfelf has, in the opinion of many, been expunged from the catalogue ; for experience has {hewn, that the caufe of religion, far from being weakened by thefe divifions and fubdivifions of its pro- feftbrs, has acquired additional ftrength. The more it is made a man's perfonal choice, the greater intereft he takes in it ; and as focieties differ from each other ra- ther about modes and articles, than about grounds and fandions, the main authority of religion is not fhaken by fuch differ- ences. The ancient comparifon of reli- gious inftrudion to grain frudifying in the earth, will alfo apply in this refped, that, like the roots of corn, the fpirit of reli* gion becomes more produtfive by divifion. You may think it an omifiion that I have faid nothing of the political influence of feds, and of the lofs that would fuftain by breaking them into unconneded focie- ties. I had not forgot this topic, but I well knew that the lefs is faid concerning it, the better. With refped to the perfon appointed by fuch a fociety to fuperintend the bufi- mk of public worfhip, and perhaps of 3o8 L E T T E R XI* private inftruction, I do not perceive that he has any other general line of conduct to purfue than, by all proper means, to render himfelf as acceptable as poflible to his cor Their ilyle of manners, if of itfelf unobjectionable, mud be his. They will naturally expect to find in him the affectionate and ufeful friend, the agreeable and inffructive com- panion ; but he will be under no neceffity, in order to gain their favour, to employ arts or compliances derogatory from a manly character. His office and flation have nothing in them which can infpire difrefpect. If he is dependent, fo are all who live by the public ; but I fcarcely ever knew an inftance in which the ad- vantages of education and office did not enable a perfon in that fituation to aflame a liberal independence of behaviour, with- in the limits of prudence and good temper. He need not renounce the world, though, like every man of wifdom and virtue, he renounces its follies and dimpations. He muff, in order to be refpectable, fuffain his character with confiftency and deco- rum-, and it is a character which demands 2 peculiar facrifices ; but for thofe he ON RELIGIOUS SOCIETIES. log is amply indemnified, by the opportunity of riling above the common level, and taking his (ration with the graver and weightier part of fociety. He is not pre- cluded from aiming at perfonal influence and refped from the community at large, by a dignified fuavity of manners, and ufeful and ornamental accomplishments. Were not thefe objects within his reach, I mould, as a father, be very unwilling that a fon whom I elleem fhould engage in the profeflion. arewe 111 O ( »o ) LETTER XII. ON REPLY IN CONTROVERSY. How far it is advifable to anfwer the charges of an antagonift in controverfy, is a queition you a(k, with reference to the actual conduct of a diftinguiihed perfon whom we both highly efteem. I {hall begin my reply with a ftory out of the life of Melancthon by Camerarius. That great and amiable man was the fubjecl of much virulent abufe, as might naturally be expected to fall upon one, who in the interefting bufmefs of reform, purfued a middle courfe, almoft equally remote from the extremes on either part. When ftrongly urged by his moft intimate friends to publifh a vindication of his conduct, " I will anfwer you, (faid he) as my little daughter did me. She had one day been fent on an errand, and ftaid much longer than fhe ought to have done. I REPLY IN CONTROVERSY. Ill met her in the flreet, and faid to her, Now, child ! what will you fay to your mother when fhe chides you for {laying fo long? — I will fay nothing, replied the poor child." What is the inference from this flory ? Is it that Melancthon had really nothing to reply to the charges brought againfl him ? The probability is, that he was confcious of being able to fay nothing which would produce any effect on minds predifpofed againft him; for the matter of accufation was that prudent conciliatory behaviour which he did in reality approve and praclife, and which he neither could nor would difavow ; and therefore a reply would have been of no avail. And this conhderation, in my opinion, leads to the true rule of conducl in thefe cafes. A writer publifhes his fentiments on a controverted point in politics or theology, and fupports them by the bell arguments in his power. A hot-headed champion rifes on the oppolite fide, who in print ftyles his notions impious or feditious, his arguments trivial and abfurd, infults his perfon, vilifies his fenfe and learning, and 02 112 LETTER XII. imputes to him the worfl motives. What matter is there in all this for an anfwer ? The writer does not mean to difavow his opinions becaufe an oponent thinks ill of them. His arguments are not refuted by the abufe of one who, perhaps, from inca- pacity or ignorance is utterly unable to comprehend them. Of his fenfe and learning he has conflituted the public his judges by the act of publication, and to their judgment at large he appeals. His motives can only be known to his own heart ; and afferting them to be good, will no more convince his enemies, than the contrary affertion has convinced his friends. If, therefore, he has obtained from nature or exercife a due command of temper, he will preferve a dignified hlence, till an at- tack of fome other kind fummons him to the field. Now this other kind mull be characterized by one of thefe two circum- Hances — the production of new and forci- ble arguments againft him, or a mifrepre- fentation in matter -of fad of a nature materially to injure his character. With re 1 peel to the firfl inllance, a dif- putant who honeflly argues for the fake of truth alone, will either freely retracl what REPLY IN CONTROVERSY. U3 he cannot maintain, or will ftudy for new arguments to fupport what he Hill be- lieves, notwithstanding the plaufibility of the objections raifed againll his mode of proving it. But in each of thefe cafes a reply is his duty ; for filence can proceed only from difingenuoufnefs, or from indo- lence. The public whom he addrelTed have a right to all the fatisfaction he can give them ; and the caufe at ifYue muft not be left to float in indecifion, if it be in his power to contribute further to its de- termination. Falfehood or mifreprefentation is a per- gonal reafon for a reply, and often a very cogent one. Though the laws afmme in fome points the guardianfhip of a perfon's reputation, yet the modes in which it may be afTailed are fo numerous and indefinite, that he mult in great meafure rely on his own protection ; — and furely few things better deferve protecting. The fages in the healing art have laid it down as a maxim, lt Nullum capitis vulnus con- temnendum." The fage in human life might with equal truth euablifh the por- tion, That no attack on moral character is to be flighted. Though proceeding 2 14 LETTER XII. from the moft infamous and defpi cable of mankind, they are never without fome power of hurting ; and filence under them will pafs, in the eftimation of a great part of the world, for an acknowledg- ment of guilt. If, therefore, an unprin- cipled antagonift attempts to render a man odious, either by reprefenting him as fay- ing what he never has faid, or by invent- ing perfonal (lander and calumny againft him, it will generally be as prudent as it is equitable, to cite him to the bar of the public, expofe his diihonelt arts and ma- lignant intentions, and with ftrong hand drag him forth like Cacus from the midft of his fire and fmoke, to light and punifh- ment. Nor does this advice concern the writer alone. Any man upon whofe character an unjuft attack is made, will do right to vindicate himfelf, provided the charge relate to a matter of fact which can be brought to a decifive iffue. That abufe, indeed, which is levelled at individuals merely as belonging to a particular pro- feiTion or party, and is only an inference from fuch a fact, merits little notice, how- ever it may bear upon moral character. REPLY IN CONTROVERSY. ll£ Its effect depends upon a general opinion which an individual cannot alter. Large bodies of men thus cenfured, may think it worth their while by public declarations of their principles to give the lie to fuch charges ; but for a fingle member to do fo, is always either unneceffary or ufelefs. He muff in thoie points ftand or fall with his party. But accufations which mark out the individual as fuch, are of a differ- ent nature. They tend as much to in- jure a perfon with his friends, as to en- courage the malice of his enemies ; and he muff not expecl to be fup parted againff them upon public grounds. We live in an age, in which the virulence of party-contention, and the facility with which (landers are propagated, render it equally neceffary to be circumfpecl in ou? a&ions, and fpirited in felf-defence, The public is indeed juft and generous when convinced ; but calumnies are readily adopted, and the refutation of them al- ways cofts fome exertion. A man fail* in, the duty he owes to fociety, as well as to himfelf, who, through indolence or apathy, fuffers malignity and falfehood to triumph in the accompliuSment. of their purpofe. 316 LETTER XII. They fhould be oppofed boldly, fpeedily, and openly. Every flep in the conteft fhould be clear and decilive ; and princi- pals fhould always be aimed at, however hedged in by forms and confequence. Every man capable of doing a fecret in- juftice is a coward. He will fhuffle, equi- vocate, and fhrink; but if held by the firm grafp of truth and courage, he cannot efcape an ignominious expofure. Farewell I { H7 ) LETTER XIII. ON CLASSIFICATION IN NATURAL HISTORY I am very glad to find, my dear foil* that you receive fo much pleafure from the purfuit of Natural Hiftory. No pleafures are more pure, more unmixed* more eafily procurable ; and th e ftudy of nature is in many refpects peculiarly fuited to your profemon and fituation. You do right firft to follow it in a practi- cal way, making yourfelf acquainted with the appearances of objects, and afcertain- ing their names and places in a fyftem* But it will be ufeful occafionally to inter- pofe reflections on the ftudy in general, and to take extended views of that economy of nature which is one of the noblefl fub- jecls of contemplation. In order to lead you into fuch a train of thought, I mail communicate to you fome remarks oa ' P Il8 LETTER Xlir, the claflification and arrangement of na^ Sural fubftances, which I wrote down at a time when thefe topics occupied a good deal of my attention. When a perfon begins to examine the productions of nature around him, he will firit be ftruck with a perception of their infinite number and boundlefs variety. The whole will feem to him a vail alTem- blage of objects, grouped into all poflible kinds of difcordant forms,, and presenting on every fide an inextricable wildemefs of diveriity. But on a more leifurely and attentive furvey, he will prefently defcry in this mafs of things, numerous refem- blances and conformities between particu- lar objecls T which will difpofe him, by ar procefs to which he is fcarcely confcious, to feparate them into claiTes, and make a kind of arrangement of them in his mind. This firit rude clallificatioii will be formed upon fome of the moil remark- able exterior qualities of the fubje&s ; and will only mark out fome of the greater divifions, frill leaving undifcriminated the, minuter differences which diitinguifh one kindred form of being from another. Thus, the. three kingdoms (as p they arc ON CLASSIFICATION. 11$ termed) of nature, will foon be feparated ; the mineral being characterized from its inert and unchanging quality ; the vegetable from its growth and fucceflive changes ; the animal from the fuperadded faculty of voluntary motion. In each of thefe will prefentiy be difcerned fubordinate divi- lions ; as in the animal creation, the feve- ral clarTes of quadrupeds, birds, nines, and infects ; in quadrupeds, the diitinclions of great, fmall, mild, fetocious, herbivorous, and carnivorous. But this mode of pro- ceeding will for a long time furniih only fuch general ideas as fall very fhort of the purpofes of methodical arrangement ; and it will not happen till after accurate re- searches have been made into the more intimate ftruclure of bodies, that marks are difcovered fufficiently numerous and diftincl to identify genus and fpecies. But there is another procefs of arrange- ment, equally natural, that comes at one itep near to the individual. In the com- mon courfe of life, every perfon becomes familiarly acquainted with certain forms of nature, fo as to have the idea of them ftrongly impreffed upon the fenfes. A P2 120 LETTER Xlir. thing of this kind, therefore, ferves him as a ftandard, to which he can refer a va- riety of other obje&s in the way of com- parifon, as being like it in fome points, and unlike it in others. Thus, when a man habitually acquainted with dogs firft fees a fox, he will conceive of it as a fmall dog, with a (harper nofe and more bufhy tail than ordinary ; and by thefe marks he will defcribe it to another man, who, from his previous knowledge of the dog, will probably recognize the fox whenever he meets with it. In like manner, the tyger and leopard are faid to be animals of the cat-kind, and thence a tolerable idea of their form and manners is obtained be- fore feeing them. And combinations may be made of parts refembling thofe of objects already known, by which a new production may be characterized. Thus we lay that a plant has the leaf of an oak, the flower of a rofe, the fruit of a plumb, the fcent of ajeffamine, &c. The de- fects of this method are, that, in the firft place, it does not extend far enough, the fpecies with which perfons are com- monly acquainted being too few to ferve as. archetypes of any considerable portion of ON CLASSIFICATION. 121 the works of nature ; and fecondly, that it is inaccurate, fmce degrees of refem- blance admit of every poffible gradation, and ftrike different obfervers differently. It is, however, on an union of the two principles of arrangement above menti- oned, that all fyftems of claflification have been founded. But before we proceed further, it will be proper to take into confideration the ufes and purpofes of arrangement. Thefe are principally two ; one, to aid the me- mory by laying up the ftores of know- ledge in a regular manner, and applying precife determinate names to every fmgle object, fo methodized, that they may be found when wanted ; the other, to afford a fummary connected view of the natural refemblances and differences between ob- ecls in their mod important qualities, ex- ibiting the relations between caufes and effects, and thofe gradations of being which conltitute the great chain or fcale of exiftence. It is the latter only on which the philofophy of natural hiftory depends. The former is a mere matter of nomen- clature, neceffary, indeed, but as a means, not an end. t 122 LETTER XIII. The perfection of arrangement is when thefe two purpofes are united; that is, when the moil important circumflances in the ftruclure or economy of natural produc- du&ions, are felecled as the characters on which their diviiions and fubdivifions are founded ; and this conftitutes what is called a natural method. When this is rendered complete, we can, not only, on examining the real fubject, readily deter- mine its place in the fyftem, and confe- quently its name ; but e converfo, on being told the name and fyftematic place of the fubject, we can infer the molt elTential cir- cuftances of its nature and hiflory. To give an inftance of this from Mr. Pen- nant's Sy nop/is of Birds : — If I find an un- known bird, with webbed feet, a flat bill, and a broad fringed tongue, I trace it at once by thefe marks to the genus Duck in his fyftem, and by carefully examining the defcriptions of the feveral fpecies in this: genus, I can difcover its name, and learn all that naturalifts have laid about it. On the other hand, if I am told that a bird fo named is of the Duck genus, I am lure, firft, that it is a water-fowl ; next, from ins webbed feet, that it is a fwimmer ; and ON CLASSIFICATION. 12j then, from the form of its bill and tongue, that it. lives either upon foft vegetables, or upon fuch animal food as it can fcoop up, and feparate at leifure, but not upon living active prey. Here I have a delightful perception of that adaptation of means to ends which affords fo convincing a proof of the agency of a deligning cauie in the wonderful plan of creation; and I alfo difcern one link of that vaft chain which binds together the whole economy of na- ture. But it is not in every part of creatior* that this perfection of arrangement can be obtained. The fpecies in fome dalles are fo extremely numerous, their general pro- perties are fo uniform, and their peculiar ones fo various and minute, that we cannot find characters in them fufficient to eflablifk difcriminations at the fame time precife. and important. This is particularly the cafe with the vegetable kingdom ; and the difficulty of the tafk has given rife to nu- merous attempts in their claflification, upon different principles. What is abfo- lutely neceflary to trie purpofes of utility, h the eflablifhment of divifions and fubdi- tifions, diftinguifhed by marks at the fame 124 UTTER XIII. time liable, obvious, and numerous ; otherwife the votary of this pleafing ftudy may range over the world of vegetation, like Eneas in fearch of his golden branch, without being able, unlefs heaven-directed, to identify any one object of which he may have heard or read. This, however, can only be erTe&ed by an artificial fyftem, that is, one, the diftinctions of which are taken from circumftances felecled for the pur- pofe of arrangement only, and not on ac- count of their relative importance. The thing wanted is a natural alphabet, com- pofed of a number of letters, unmeaning, perhaps, of themfelves, but capable, by a vaft variety of combinations, of diftin- guiftiing with perfect precifion all the tribes, families, and individuals of that im- menfe nation from each other. All modern botanifts agree, that it is in the parts of fructification that diflinctive marks for the purpofe of arrangement are to be found in vegetables. The great number and variety of thefe afford, by means of combination, an almoft inex- hauftible fund of differences, accommo- dated to the feveral orders of divilion and fubdivifton ou which accuracy of method ON CLASSIFICATION. 1 25 depends. It is upon thefe, you know, that Linnaeus his founded a fyftem, which its merit has brought into general ufe ; and which would want little of abfolute perfec- tion, as an artificial one, if it were as uni- form in its application, as it is regular in its principles. But it labours under a defecl from which no artificial arrangement can free itfelf ; which is, that it frequently thwarts that diftribution into families, which na- ture has pointed out by refemblances fo ftrong, as to render feparation a violence fcarcely tolerable ; fo that either his prin- ciple muft be facrificed, or a very obvious deformity incurred by adhering to it. In thefe emergencies, the conduct of the au- thor has not been uniform ; fometimes he has flood firm ; oftener he has yielded. In the latter cafe, fpecies, in order to keep to their genera, are placed under claffes and orders to which they do not belong ; fo that if a learner unfortunately lights upon them before he has acquired a know- ledge of the genus, he may hunt through the whole fyftem before he can in ve frigate them. It is as if, in a dictionary, a word beginning with the letter A. fhould be a i 20* LETTER XIH. placed along with others of fimilar fignifH cation under D. The caufe of this defecl is, manifestly, that Nature has not attached fo much importance to the circumftances on which his primary and fecondary divi- sions are founded, as to make them uni- form in productions formed in general af- ter the fame model. And, indeed, through the whole of the Linnaean claflifications, in all the kingdoms of nature, there runs the fame attention to minute circumftances in queft of diftinclive marks, which throws an air of littlenefs over his fyftems, and gives them the praife rather of ingeni- ous invention,, than of coincidence with the fublime plans of creation. You will, I hope, know how to prize them for their utility in enabling you to acquire the [ knowledge of nature, without miftaking an acquaintance with them for that know- ledge. Farewell I ( 1*7 ) LETTER XIV. on buffon's natural history. DEAR SON, In my former letter on the fubjed of Natural Hiftory, I (lightly charaderifed the great Majier of Arrangement. At pre- fent I mean to communicate to you a few reflections on a writer who holds an equally high rank in a diredly oppofite mode of treating thefe fubjeds, the illuftrious Count de Buffon. The works of this naturalift and philofo- pher, unrivalled in defcriptive eloquence, and filled with curious and exad details of matter of fad, exhibit alfo continual marks of that difpofition to theorize which is al- mofr infeparable from genius. Not fatif- fled with being the fecretary, he aflfumes the office of legijlator of nature ; and fre- a* 128 LETTER XIV. quently quits the humbler talk of painting things as they are, for the loftier purpofe of fpeculating how they have been and may be. One leading principle runs through all his difcuffions of this kind ; — a difpo- fition to reduce as much as poflible the number of '/pedes, by fuppofing perpetual varieties generated by climate, domeftica- tion, and other incidental caufes. He is ever in fearch of the original Jlock from whence a number of kindred fpecies have proceeded, and largely indulges himfelf in fuppofitions refpecling the means by which all the (hades and ramifications of difference have been produced, often high- ly ingenious, but often, too, in my opi- nion, perfectly gratuitous and delufory. This deduction of numerous prefent forms of nature from a few original ar- chetypes, does not appear to me, even a p-iori, a very probable hypothelis. All the parts of nature have a mutual rela- tion to, and dependence on, each other. If it be admitted that a laige trad of coun- try has long exifted in the form of folid land, it muft have been clothed with vegeta^ bles accommodated to each foil and fituation. Thefe muft have afforded food and fhelter buffon's natural historv. 129 to the infett race, with which vegetables are every where found to fwarm. Their mul- tiplication to a noxious excefs, mult have been checked by the numerous birds which derive their chief fubfiftence from them. Quadrupeds, though lefs clofely connected with the other claries of creation, yet mutt be fuppofed to have an appropriate place, and may reafonably be imagined to have exifted wherever their exigence was con- fonant to the general arrangement of things. We view, without furprife, in regions very diftant from our own, all this general order of nature exi fling, yet made up of fpecies fo different from ours in the different claffes, that we muft necef- farily refer them to a diflin61 origin. Is it a greater wonder that other fpecies mould be formed upon a model nearly refem- bling ours ? After having gazed with admiration at the Paradife-birds in an Afiatic foreft, or the Toucans in an Ame- rican one, and recognifed the creative power that originally placed them there, {hall we perplex ourfelves with endeavour- ing to account how the thrufhes, pigeons, and finches, could get there, and by what means, with a general fimilitude to thofe 230 LETTER XIV. tribes as they exifl. with us, the variations which difcriminate them mould have been produced ? A decided purpofe of what we call Na- ture, is to give birth to variety ; and, ac- cording to a remark of Buffon himfelf, whatever can exift feems a&ually to exift. She fports a thoufand ways in colour, (hape, and proportion, keeping only within the bounds neceflary to fecure the great purpofes of continuing and propagat- ing exiftence. Why then mould migra-r tion be called in to frame an imagined ge- nealogy of kindred tribes, which in one country as well as in another, ferve to fill up the great plan of being? In the ve- getable kingdom, where, as migration cannot have taken place, except in culti- vated plants, all variations in others mull have been original, fcarcelyan inftance can be found of perfectly fimilar fpecies ex- lfting in the two great continents, even where the generical refemblances are moll {hiking. But fo prepolfeffed is Buffon againft the notion of the original forma- tion of nearly refembling fpecies of ani- mals in diftant parts of the world, that ' re he cannot deny their pvefent exifl* BUFFONS NATURAL HISTORY. 1 3! ence, and is unable to conceive a natural migration, he frequently invents the moil unlikely fuppofition of their conveyance by men ; and, on the other hand, he as fre- quently rejeds, without reafon or autho- rity, the ocular teftimony of travellers to their being found in parts of the world where he does not choofe to admit them. Of the means by which changes in ori- ginal fpecies may be fuppofed to be effect- ed, the principal are climate and domefti ca- tion. That both of thefe are capable of producing confiderable effects, we can fcarcely doubt ; and carefully to enquire into thefe, and from a feries of eftablifhed fads to deduce a fcientlfic theory of this important part of the animal economy, would be a mod valuable addition to phy- fiology. But to employ them in the ex- planation of perplexing fads, at random and without any proper clue of known caufes and effeds, is rather to propagate error than true fcience. Yet this M. de Buffon perpetually does, and more efpe- cially with regard to domeftication. Whe- ther by this vague term he under Hands fuch a perfed fubjedion and fubferviency to man as we fee in the horfe, and the dog ; 132 LETTER XIV; or fuch a lax connexion with him as fufcr* fifts in the cat and the pigeon, there is fcarcely a change in form and difpofition which he does not afcribe to it, as hypo- thelis may require. It can ennoble or de- bafe, enlarge or diminifh, ftrengthen or enfeeble, juftas fuits the prefent occafion- It has given the camel his bunches and callofities, and has made the horfe fleek and fine-limbed. It has created all the varieties of fhape, iize, and inftincl, in the family of dogs, from the lap-dog to the maftiff, from the greyhound to the fpaniel. It operates even upon the free winged tribes; and contaminates by a touch thofe who only approach .it at a diftance. To deny the great erTec~l of fuiting and contraning breeds, of feeding, houfing, and exercihng the animals which man fele&s for his particular ufe, would be to betray grofs ignorance or prejudice. But, on the other hand, to extend the ope- ration of known caufes beyond all bounds of proof or analogy, and to apply words for the purpofe of argument, where the things are totally diflimilar, is to level all diilinclion between imagination and rea- fon. BUFF0NS NATURAL HISTORY^ l^ if domeftication be ufed as a general Iterm to exprefs every aiTociation between man and animals, it is obvious that to rea- fon with arty accuracy on its effects, it muft be divided into different ffages. The firfl it that in which they are merely fed un- confined ; man repaying himfelf for this Care by the opportunity of making prize of them more eaflly when he wants them. Wild rabbits and J)heafants are in this degree of dependence on man. It is but a little {rep beyond this to provide them with a detached lodging, as pigeons in a dove-cote ; or even to confine them within bounds, provided an ample range be al- lowed them, as deer in a park. In all thefe cafes no other changes in them can be reafonably fuppofed, than fome dimi- nution of their natural fagacity and active powers, owing to the greater eafe the/ find in fubfifting, and perhaps, an im- provement in fize and bulk in the indivi- duals from their being better fed. A far- ther ftage is that of animals kept in the fold and the yard, whofe whole fubfiflcnce and protection depend on man, and who live with him and with their fellow -Tub- R ^34 LETTER XlV, jecls in a flate of fociety, but without con- flraint. This is the condition of domenic fowl, and fwine. Among thefe, varieties of fize and colour begin to fhevv themfelves ; tvhich, however, are probably owing not limply to their domeftication, but to the contrivance of men, in felecling peculiar individuals, or importing foreign varie- ties, for the purpofe of propagating the breed ; for without this care, an unifor- mity foon comes to prevail, with a fet of qualities, derived rather from climate, than from other circumftances. The mod complete Itage of domeftica- t'ion is that of dogs and of beafts of bur- then. Thefe are trained up to be the fervants or companions of man ; and their natural qualities are all direcled to this pur- pofe. They live a life of perpetual conftraint. To inftinct is fubftituted habit ; to native wants and delires the will of a mafter. Their food, their lodging, their exercife, the propagation of their fpecies, are all iubjecl to artificial rules. By thefe, varia- tions in iize, fhape, colour and faculties of all kinds* are carried to their utmoft ex- tent. But in order to keep up to any given ilandard, a continued attention and BUFFON S NATURAL HISTORY. I35 .(uperintendance is neceflary ; for all thefe acquired variations are merely individual, or at lead temporary, and the fpecies has a perpetual tendency to relapfe to its na- tural model. From this principle, which I believe is univerfal, it appears an error to aflign a remote domeflication of proge- nitors, as the caufe of fubfifting varieties in wild animals ; as it is llkewife probably an error to impute any confiderable alter- ations to the very imperfect domefticity ir> the ftages fir ft defcribed. No writer in Natural Hiftory dwells fo much as Buffon on the manners, and what may be called the moral character of animals. Thefe fpeculations are extremely curious and entertaining; though you will readily conceive that in a writer of a warm imagination and lively feelings they will be very apt to become fanciful and delu- fory. Thofe of Buffon will probably often appear to you to deferve this cha- racter; though on the other hand it mufl be acknowledged in their favour, that his perfonal obfervations have in many in- fiances been conducted with the mcft pa- tient and minute attentions ; and certainly R2 13$ t-BTTEIl XIV, very few writers have pofleffed equal ad- vantages with himfelf. He warns his readers againft falling into the mifiake of attributing to animals the paflions and fen- timents of men ; yet I cannot fay, that he always avoids it himfelf. On the whole, BufTon is an author whom all may read with plea hire, but whom none but the in- formed and judicious can read with un- mixed improvement. Farewell \ ( *37 ) LETTER XV, ON ORNAMENTAL GARDENING* DEAR SON, In one of my former letters I hinted a future application of the confiderations on nature and art and the love of novelty, lo another of the fine arts ; and I mean now to perform my promife in fome re- marks on Ornamental Gardening. There is nothing in which the Englifli tafte more triumphs, than in the change it has effected in the whole fyflem of this art \ a change which for more than half a cen- tury has been gradually taking place, and may now be faid in this country to be com- plete. This confifts in entirely banifhing almoft every thing which conftituted the artifice and contrivance of ancient garden- ing, and in their Head fubftituting a plan pf embellifhe4 .nature, imitative of the 1$$ LETTER XV. fccnery of real landfcape, and of which the fundamental law is to exclude every appearance of regularity. You have feen, I doubt not with pleafure and admi- ration, fome of the fineft creations of this kind. To you they had all the graces of novelty ; and viewing them as a tranfient fpeclator, without the comparifon of a dif- ferent model in your mind, you have per- haps implicitly admitted the principles on which the new fyflem has obtained fo uni- verfal a preference to the old. Yet, on refle&ion, you will readily perceive the great fhare faftnon muft have had in fuch a general alteration of tafte ; and you may be inclined to examine the matter a little more clofely, not for the purpofe of -know-* ing whether you ought to have been pleafed with what you faw T — for we ought always to be pleafed when we innocently can — but whether fomething very diffe^ rent might not pleafe as much, or more. Let us then enter upon a difquiiition of this kind. The efTential idea of a garden, as it has exifted in all ages and countries, is that of a place, where, by the aid of culture, ve-,. getablfi productions may fee reared, mors Ornamental gardening. igg excellent in kind, and more pleating in diftribution, than the ordinary growth of nature. Even in the moft genial climates, it was found that flowers and fruits might: be much improved by care and fele&ion ; that a number of the fineft plants, greatly beyond the natural variety of any diftricl, might be accumulated in one fpot, and cleared of all mixture with the noxious and unfightly; while by fome artifice of ar- rangement, they might be prefented with more advantage to the eye, and formed into pleafing fpe&acles of novelty. In hot countries, the delicious luxury of cooling {hades and perpetual verdure might be enjoyed to far greater perfection in regular walks beneath trees felecled for beauty and fragrance, and bordered by rills which the hand of art had directed, than in the wild foreft, entangled with brakes, and rendered impaffible by mo- rales. In cold and changeable climates, the flicker of walls and^hedges was abfo- lutely requifite for the prefervation of de- licate vegetables, and during a confider- a.hle part of the year was agreeable to the- perfon who wiflied to fuxvey their beau- ties, i±& letter xv» No pleafure derived from art has beeri fo univerfal as that taken in gardens; This, in the .firft place, was owing to the union of fimple gratifications they af- forded ; not fewer than four of the fenfes, the tafte, fmell, light, and feeling, being rrtoft agreeably affecled by horticulture; And if the refinements of ornamental gar- dening have excluded the objecls of the firfl of thefe, it has been only to enjoy the reft in a more exquifite degree. For a garden, therefore, to be fragrant, gay, and refrefhing, is as efTential, as for a houfe to afford fhelter againft the inclemency of the feafons. But the combination of dif- ferent pleafing forms into groups and compofitions of novelty and beauty, is what has given the art of gardening a place among the finer inventions of ge- nius. And in judging of the different ftyles of ornamental gardening, we are to endeavour to difcover the principles befl adapted to produce happy effecls of this kind. Formerly, the pleafure garden was al- ways confidered as an appendage to the houfe ; its plan and decorations were therefore a fubordinate branch of architect fo&foAMENTAL GARDEN!.. 1 ^\ itite. That it mould have been fo re- garded, was very natural. To enjoy the pleafures of a garden to advantage, it was necelTary that they mould be near. Its fragrance was received into the apartments of the houfe; its walks invited even the in- dolent to faunter in the fun or repofe under the (hade ; and its gay forms and colours fealled the eye with variety of beauty within the fphere of diltincl virion. Its flights of fleps, walls, porticoes, and ter- races, gave the architect an opportunity of gradually letting down the maffy height of his main edifice, and (hading off Hone into verdure. That fomething of this kind is wanted by the eye, will, I think, be acknowledged by every unprejudiced obferver at the firit view of a modern manfion, riling unfuftained from the :nidft of a naked lawn. Thus regularity was a fundamental idea in planning a gar- den; and inftead of any endeavour to make it referable a natural fcene, e very- contrivance was ufed to produce artificial effects with the materials of nature. I can fcarcely admit, however, that the leading principle of the art was, To form with verdure what the bunder form'd With ftone ; s Ijfi LETTER XV. for although trees cut into fhapes, and hedges fafhioned like walls, have occa- sionally been introduced as objects of vul- gar admiration, yet better tafle has rather aimed at producing novelties more confo- nant to the effential character of garden fcenery. Of fome of thefe, nature her- felf may be faid to have afforded the rude fketch. Thus, a woodbine running from tree to tree, and encircling the tops of bufhes, formed a fort of flowering canopy, which agreeably fheltered the wanderer from fun and fhower. Art caught the idea, and fafhioned an arbour or t re ill age, the regular frame-work of which directed the rambling fprays to weave an impene- trable covering, at the fame time com- modious and free. Thus, the velvet car- peting of the turfy down, pleafmg to the eye and loft to the feet, was transferred to the " dry fmooth-lhav en green.'' The advantageous elevation of the rifing bank, was copied in a terrace. The fhady walk between lofty trees in a natural wood, was improved into the ftraight clear avenue / and the cafual arcades of intertwined thickets, fuggefted the clofe walk over- arched by bending hazels. Walks, of ORNAMENTAL GARDENING. I43 gravel or grafs, laid down by line and rule, interfering flower-bed and fhrubberies of regular and perhaps fanciful forms, not only correfponded with the general regu- larity of the outline by which the garden was bounded, but amufed by perfpeclive effects. Water fpouted up in a jet d'eau was a novelty, and certainly a very elegant one. The bafon and long canal gave new ideas of liquid extenfion. Ornamental building, ftatues, urns, and vafes, inter- mixed with fcenes of verdure and folitude, pleafed by the contrail: they afforded to iimilar works of art in the ftreets and fquares of a city. A beautiful plant {hooting from the midft of rich carving, over which it threw its eafy foliage, had furely as good a right to admiration, as the imitation of it in a Corinthian capital. Thefe, and a variety of other inven- tions which compofed the enchanted gar- dens of France and Italy, produced in a high degree the general refult of furprife. The garden was as much a creation of art, as the palace to which it belonged ; and in both, after the purpofes of utility were anfwered (by which, in the garden, S 2 144 LETTER XV\ I mean the fimple gratifications of the fenies afforded by the cultivation of ve- getables) the remainder was addreifed to the love of novelty. And as it is the character iftic of nature in all her works, to fhun regularity, fo when art attempted to produce novelty, lcgularity of difpofi- tion was the firft thing thought of. The fame difference that exills between the rocky cave or woodland (hed, and an edi- fice of flone or timber, was conceived to. diftinguifh the flowery meadow or thicket, from the cultured garden. This idea was fo obvious, that I think it wants no de- fence ; but we are now to conhder whether the late refinement of banifhing all regu- 1 irity, and employing art only to produce a copy of beautiful nature, be capable of yielding, on the whole, a greater degree of pleafure. As an objection to the old ftyle it has been made a kind of univerfal maxim, 4 * That the appearance of art always dif- gulYs ;" but I do not difcover upon what principle this is founded. The footfleps of art indicate invention, induftry, order — they are the footileps of man. In moft works of the artift they ea?inct be con- ORNAMENTAL GARDENING. 1 45 cealed ; and the very endeavour, to conceal them is fach an exertion of art as mud difcover itfelf. If, then, it is intended by the contrivances of modern gardening to delude the fpedlator with an idea that the fcenes he beholds are really natural, it is certain that the attempt will not fucceed. Nor, indeed, can the owner of the codiy and laboured plan ever wifli it to fucceed. The pride of art and of opulence will not fuffer this wifh. Yet many of the rules of tafte feen to have no other foun- dation than to fofter fuch an illuiion. When the Poet of the Engliflj Garden thinks it ne- ceffary to give a long receipt in verfe how to make green paint, for the purpofe of rendering inviiible the rails which are to feparate the pafhire from the lawn, we may be permitted to regret that either the poet or the painter fhould employ their art on an objecl fo trivial. I am fenfible, indeed, that in this cafe pride finds a grati- fication from an artifice which is to deceive the fpeclator into the belief, that the ex- tent of its porTeflions are only terminat- ed by the diilant horizon. This is with many the true interpretation of the pre- I46 LETTER XV. cept, to " call in the country" — to make it pafs for their own. But we will quit the deceptions of mo- dern gardening, and fairly compare it with the ancient, with refpeel to the beauties they are both capable of producing. The free graces of nature, it is faid, and with juftice, yield a perpetual fund of variety • while the regularity of art cannot avoid a conftant tendency .to a tirefome uniformity. Whatever, therefore, there be of novelty m the lingular fcenery of an artificial gar- den, it is loon exhaufted ; whereas the in- finite diver fity of a natural landfcape pre- sents an inexhauftible ftore of new forms. It is added, that the forms of nature are intrinfically more beautiful than thofe of art; that the flowing ftrokes of the for- mer, compared with the ftraight lines and Qiarp angles of the latter, conititute the eflfential diftinction between grace and fUffnefs. Even moral ideas are brought in to decide the preference ; and a tafte nature is faid to be equivalent to a e of liberty and truth ; while the vo- s of art are pronounced flaves to for- lityand conftfaSnt: As I think there ORNAMENTAL GARDENING. 147 are few more impaflioned admirers of na- ture in all her forms than myfelf, I will venture to refer to my own feelings on the occafion. Thefe inform me, that the pleafures to be derived from the various feenery of a fine country, are, indeed, fuperior to any which art can beftow. Architecture, painting, gardening, all fink to toys before them. But the companion is not between a landfcape and a garden, but between one ftyle of gardening and another ; and conceiving myfelf to refide in the midft of natural beauties, which I may not at all times be able or difpofed to enjoy, I confider what fupplemental plea- fures can belt fill up the vacancy. In this view, a garden connected with the hcufe, lying directly beneath the eye, prefenting forms novel from their regularity, and rich in artificial ornament, offering choice* of fun and (hade, of warmth and coolnefs t as the feafon may require, and gradually fubfiding into the uncultured wildnefs of nature — does in reality feem preferable to an imitation of thofe very fcenes with which, I fuppofe myfelf already fatiated. This imitation, if it be in. a large ftyle, is in* I4B LETTER XV* deed the thing itfelf. To roll a river through a new channel, to fpread out a lake, raife mountains, fcoop out vales, and plant forefts, is to create a country— & noble effort, certainly, in thofe who have compafs and fortune iufficient for the pur- pofe, and who inhabit a diftricl: fcantily provided with natural charms. But this, in my idea, is a flight beyond gardening ; and if attempted in the limits of a few acres, produces only laboured littlenefs. The tumbling rills of the Leafowes were fuch miniature cafcades, that they ap- peared more like ftage fcenery than ob- jects of romantic nature. And the level lazvn formed out of three or four pafturp fields, and dotted with clumps of half a dozen dwarfifh trees, while it is perfectly efficacious in communicating to a houfe the cold comfortlefs fenfation of unfhel- tered nakednefs, can excite no image of the grandeur of a wide-expanded plain. I mould perhaps venture to fuggeft an union of fome kind between the two taftes, were I not deterred by the deci- five fentence of the Poet, who pronounces them abfolutely irreconcileable ; and in ORNAMENTAL GARDENING* 1 ^g «confequence, though with manifeft reluc- tance, dooms to deftruction the venerable avenue of oaks which may have heard the {trains. Of Sidney's, nay, perchance, of Suny's reed. Heav'ns ! muft they fall ? They muft, their doom is paft. And why? — Becaufe nature abhors a flraight line even more than {he formerly did a vacuum. And this, too, is the dictate of the bard who has tranfplanted the un- natural Greek chorus into the Englifh drama ! With fome indignation, but more plea- fure, I turn to another Poet, and emi- nently a poet of nature too, who has confe- crated this noble production of united art and nature in verfes which, I dare predicl, will outlive the fentence of its deftru&ion. How airy and how light the graceful arch, Yet awful as the confec rated roof Re-echoing pious anthems ! while beneath, The checquer'd earth feems reftlefs as a flood Brufh'd by the wind. So fportive is the light Shot thro' the boughs, it dances as they dance- T t5<* LETTER XV. Shadow and funfiiine intermingling quick, A«d dark'ning and enlightening, as the leaves Flay wanton, every moment, every fpot. Cowper'sTas&- I cannot conclude my long letter mors frappily; fo Adieu ! < *5» ) LETTER XVI. cn pope's essay on criticism. DEAR SON, Though it is for the moft part a poor employment to endeavour to point out faults in a performance of reputation, and to diminifh the admiration with which it has ufually been regarded, yet as far as in- culating the true principles of literature is of any confequence, it is important occafionally to difcufs the merits of thofe works on which the public tafte is chiefly formed, And this is peculiarly juft and proper with refpecl to fuch pieces as are themfelves critical, and written with the profeffed intention of eftabliihing rules for compohng and judging. Among works of this kind, few are more diftinguiflied than Pope's Effay on Criticism. If the circum- ftance of its being written in verfe have, on the one hand, impaired its authority, on the other, it has ferved to make it more read, and to fix its maxims more thoroughly in the memory. In fact, few pieces are more T 2 I52 LETTER XVI. referred to in the way of quotation ; and after the higvi praifes it has received from fuch names as Warburton, Johnfon, and Warton, its influence upon the opinions of writers and readers cannot be fuppofed inconhderable. Such commendations, in- deed, render it a hazardous tafk to call in queflion its merits. But my experience of men and books has not ferved to aug- ment my confidence in great names ; and if I can give good reafons for the objec- tions I fhall make, I fear not that you will regard my attempts as prefumptuous. Dr. Warburton, at the clofe of his commentary on this Effay, ftrongly calls it to the reader's recollection, that its au- thor had not attained his twentieth year. This view of it as a juvenile performance is a very proper one. It may juflly ex- cite our admiration of the early difplay of poetical powers it exhibits, and mould jugged every indulgence of candour to its defects; but it mould make us hefrate in attributing to it that comprehenfion of view and accuracy of conception, which were by no means the moft flriking quali- ties of the author in the full maturity of his powers. It does not belong to my POPE S ESSAY ON CRITICISM. I53 purpofe to point out the imperfections with which it abounds as a mere poetical compofition. What I have to do with, are the falfe thoughts and vicious princi- ples, which render it a very unfafe guide in matters of tafte, notwithfbnding the large admixture of maxims founded on good fenfe, and exprefled with the utmoft brilliancy of language. With refpect to the method of the piece, as far as it really pofiefies a method not forcibly held together by the commenta- tor's chain, it may be affirmed, that the arrangement of matter is limple and natu- ral, but not very clofely adhered to. Many of the rules and remarks are brought in with little connexion with what preceded, and apparently might be tranfpofed with- out injury. And after all Warburton has done for Pope, and his difciple for Ho- race, it is certain, that the reader of each poet will fcarcely, without a previous clue, become fenfible of more than a fet of detached maxims, connected only by the general fubjecl. Pope begins with an affertion which, if true, would render his work of very con- 1^4 LETTER XVI. fined utility, namely, that critics, as well aff poets, mud be born fuch. Both mufl alike from hcav'n derive their light, Thefe born to judge, as well as thofe to write. And he further limits the profeflion of criticifm, by requiring that both talents ihould be united in the fame perfon. Let fuch teach others who themfelves excel, And cenfure freely who have written well. But furely both thefe are very falfe no- tions.; for nothing feems to be more a matter of acquirement than the habit of judging accurately on works of art ; and this habit appears from innumerable in- ilances to be perfectly diftin fi fro m the faculty of practifmg the arts. Indeed they have much oftener exifted feparate than combined. Thus in the foul while Memory prevails, The folid power of Underftanding fails ; Where beams of warm Imagination play, The Memory's foft figures melt away. The beauty of imagery in thefe lines, fhould not make us blind to the want of juftnefs in the thought. To reprefent ilrength of memory as incompatible with folidity of underftanding, is fo obvioufly contrary to facl, that I prefume the author had in his eye only the cafe of extraordi- POPES ESSAY ON CRITICISM. Jcj^ nary memory for names, dates, and things which offer no ideas to the mind ; which has, indeed, been often difplayed in great ferfedion by mere idiots. For, it is dif- ficult to conceive how the faculty of judg- ment, which confifts in the comparifon of different ideas, can at all be exercifedl without the power of ftoring up ideas in the mind, and calling them forth when re^ quired. From the fecond couplet, ap- parently meant to be the converfe of the firfl, one would fuppofe that he confidered (he underflanding and the imagination as the fame faculty, elfe the counterpart is defective. Further, fo far is it from be- ing true, that imagination obliterates the figures of memory, that the circumftance which caufes a thing to be remembered is principally its being aflbciated with other ideas by the agency of the imagination* If the poet only meant, that thofe ideas about which imagination is occupied, are apt to exclude ideas of a different kind, the remark is true, but it mould have been dif- • ferently exprefled. One Science only will one Genius fit. This maxim is as falfe as it is dif- couraging, and derogatory from the pow-> I56 LETTER XVI. ers of the human mind. It is, perhaps* generally true, that the genius is exclu- lively fitted for attaining excellence in one of the great claiTes of mental acqui- sitions, as fcience, art, invention, &c. but he who can make himfelf mailer of one fcience properly fo called, may com- monly with equal application attain any other. Firft follow Nature. This trite rule can be of little ufe with- out being opened and exemplified. It is perfectly obvious, that in all the arts which are imitative or defcriptive of na- ture, (he muft be the archetype ; but the proper manner of fludying nature, and transferring its images to each particular fpecies of the works of art, varioufly com- bined, contrafted, and perhaps height- ened and altered, is the great defideratum on which their true theory and practice is founded. We fhall foon fee, that Pope cuts fhort all difcuflions of this kind, by reducing his general precept to the fingle practical direction, Imitate the ancients. When firft young Maro, &c. That Virgil, not only in his general plan, but in moil of the fubordinate parts, POPE'S ESSAY ON CRlTICfSM. I57 was a clofe copyift of Homer, is iindeni-* able, whatever be thought of the fuppoii- tion that he let out with a detign of draw- ing from the fources of nature, and was diverted from it by the diftovery that " Nature and Homer were the fame." The modern idolatry of Shakefpear has elevated him to the fame degree of au- thority among us; and critics have not been wanting, who have confidently drawn from his characters the proofs and illuf- tration of their theories on the human mind. But what can be more unworthy of the true critic and philofopher, than inch an implicit reliance on any man, how exalted fcever his genius, efpecially on thofe who lived in the infancy of their art ? If an epic poem be a reprefe elation of nature in a courfe of heroic action* it muft be fufceptible of as much variety as Nature herfelf ; and furely it is more de- ferrable that a poet of original genius fliould give full fcope to his inventive powers, under the reftriclions of fuch laws only as are founded on nature, than that he ihould fetter himfelf with rules derived from the practice of a predeceflbr. When Pops v 1$8 LETTER XVI. praifes the ancient rules for cornpofition on the ground that they were " difcover'd not devis'd," and were only " Nature me- thodized," he gives a juit notion of what they ought to be. But when he fuppofes Virgil to have been properly " checked in his bold defign of drawing from Nature's fountains," and in confequence to have confined his work within rules as Uriel As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line, how can he avoid the force of his own ridicule, where a little further in this very piece, he laughs at Dennis for Concluding ail were defperate fots and fools Who durft depart from Ariftotle's rules ? Such are the inconfiflencies of a writer who fometimes utters notions derived from reading and education, fometimes the fug- geftioris of native good fenfe ! Some precepts yet no beauties can declare, For there's a happinefs as well as care. If the meaning of the writer here is onlv, that rules will not fiand inltead of genius, and that a poet's greater! beauties are rather the refult of a happy flow of fancy, than the careful purfuit of precepts, the truth of the remark is indifputable. But if, applying to the critic, he means to FOPE S ESSAY ON CRITICISM. \$g tell him that certain poetical beauties are irreducible to rational principles, and only to be referred to luck, chance, a brave dif- ord r, and fuch other unmeaning notions, we may aiTert that he was indeed young in the philofophy of criticifm. He appears, however, to have been in the right train, when he fays, that where the lucky licence anfwers its purpofe, that Licence is a rule ; but he confufes aii again by the often- quoted maxim, Great Wits may fometimes glorioufly offend, And rife to faults true Critics dare not mend; for he ought rather to have concluded, that fuch fiiccefsful deviations from com- mon practice are not faults ; and that the true critic fhould er lis rules to the comprehenlibn > though uri- ufual, excellencies. :So much, indeed, does he perplex himfelf between venera- tion for ancient rules, and regard to . practice of eminent poets, that the whole paffage is full of contradictions, which coil his commentator much fruitlefs pains to reconcile, and oblige him to take (bel- ter in a companion between the fublimi- U2 lOO LETTER XVI. ties of poetry, and the myfteries of reli- gion, lt fome of which are above* reafon* and fome contrary to it." Pope goes on to obferve, that though the ancients may make thus free with their own rules, yet that modern 5 writers mould copy this indulgence with caution, and not without u their precedent to plead." On the contrary, a liberal mode of reafon- ing would allow mcie freedom to the mo- derns, who poiTefs fuch (lores of new ideas, to deviate from ancient rules, than to the ancients who made and acknow- ledged them. Thofe oft are ftratagems which errors feem> Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. Either Steele or Addifon, in one of his periodical papers, humoroufly dehres his reader, when he finds him dull, to fup- pofe he has a defign in it* This dodrine is here ferioufly inculcated with refpecl to the ahcients ; but its. abfurdity is fo mani- , that we may regard it only as the lively fally of a young author who was fond of faying fmart things, without being folici- tous about their ■' truth* A judicious poet may defignedly Uiider-tibriie fome parts of a long work, or, rather he will find it im- POPE^S ESSAY ON CRITICISM. l6l pofilble to be every where equally bril- liant, but he will never with deiign write what is childifh and iniipid, if he thinks it to be fuch. Hail Bards triumphant, born in happier days ! This noble eulogy on the poets of anti- quity is not to be admitted without many exceptions and limitations r efpecially if it is meant to extend to all that unequal and motley affemblage of writers known by the title of the clafftcs. Of thefe, ma- ny are valued and read merely becaufe they are ancients ; and even the moil ex- cellent afford fufficient fcope for manly criticifm, which can never arrive at foli- dity of principles, if it is obliged to re- gard the negligence and defects of great writers with filent reverence. True Wit is Nature to advantage drefs'd, What oft was thought, but ne'er fo well exprefs'd; Something, whofe truth convine'd at fight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind. The poet, in cenfuring the narrow and partial taftes of fome critics, begins with that for conceit, or a glitter of dazzling thoughts rifing one after another without meaning and connexion. This is falfe $W/; as a contrail to which, he gives a l6*2 LETTER >." definition of the true, in the preceding lines. But he has evidently, by this pur- pofe of contrafting the two kinds, been led to a defcription which exhibits none of the peculiar features of wit, as other writ- ers have reprefented it, or as he himfelf ufually underftands it. By this definition, any juft moral fentiment, any exact picture of a natural object, if clothed in good ex- prefTion, would be wit. Its tell being an agreement with images previously exiiling in our own minds, no other quality is re- quiftte to it but truth. Even uncommon- nefs is not taken into the character ; for we muft often have thought it, and be able to recognize it at fight. Nor has he given any diftinct idea of that advantageous drefs which makes a natural thought witty. No drefs can fuit fome thoughts fo well as the molt fimple. Exalted fentiments of the heart, and fublime objects in nature, ge- nerally ftrike moil when prefented in lan- guage the leafl Itudied. Indeed, he ufes, within a few lines, the very fame meta- phor of drefs, in expofing the finical tafte of thofe who value a work for the ftyle rather than the fenfe ; and the fact cer- tainly is, that the mod confefledly witty pope's essay on criticism. 163 writers have often been little folicitous as to the manner of exprefiing their notions. Pope evidently entertains a different con- ception of wit from that of the definition above quoted, m the lines immediately fol- lowing. As fhades more fweetly recommend the light, So modeft plainncfs fets oiFfprightly wit. For works may have more wit than does them good, As bodies periih through excefs of blood. Now, " modeft plainnefs" is no foil or contrail to wit as characterized in the de- finition, been nfe it may be the moft u ad- vantageous dre: ought. Again, that wit which may fuperabound in a work, muii be a different thing from " natural imagery joined to good expremon," for in thofe, what danger can there be of ex- cefs? He was certainly now recurring in his mind to thofe brilKant flafhes, which, often introduced with falfe judg- ment, are not, however, falfe wit. The two characters of bad critic and bad poet are greffly confounded in the paffage relating to poetical numbers ; for though it be true, that vulgar readers of poetry are chiefly attentive to the melody of the verfe, yet it is not thej who admire. I64 LETTER XVI. but the pa! try verfifier who employs^ mono~ tonous fyllables, feeble expletives, and 3 dull routine of unvaried rhymes. Again, an ordinary ear is capable of perceiving the beauty arifing from the found being made an echo to the fenfe — indeed it is one of the moft obvious beauties in poetry • — but it is no eafy talk for the poet to fuc- ceed in his attempts to render it fo, as Pope has fufficiently proved by the refer- able failure of fome of his examples in il luftration of the precept. The pow'r of mufic all cur hearts allow, And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now. , Mufic properly fo called, and the me- lody refulting from veriification, are things radically different in their nature and prin- ciples, though perpetually confounded in the figurative language of poets and writ- ers on polite literature. Nor, indeed, do we poilefs terms by which thefe two kinds of pleating found can well be Separately defcribed. The names and characters, however, of poet and mufician, are fuffi- ciently difcriminated ; and Pope has com- mitted a grofs error in confounding them in the prefent inftance. There is no re- femblance between the manner in whicH pope's essay on criticism. 165 Wexazrder was affected by the tnufic of Timctheus, and that in which we are af- fe&ed bv the poetry of Dryden deicriptive of that event. The firft was, as ilory re- lates, an inib.nce of the powers of pure found, fkilfully modulated and changed. The latter is a moft animated picture of fucceflive difplays of pamon; and much more refembles the effect of a hiftory- painting, than of a piece of muiic. The mere verfification is a very inferior point in Dryden' s Ode, though it is a principal one in Pope's rival Ode on St. Cecilia's day. Alexander's Feaft fet to Handel's muiic may, indeed, be paralleled to the performance of the Grecian ; but then Handel, and not Dryden, is the modern Timotheus. It is ludicrous enough, that Pope's comparison of Dryden to a harper, fhould come lb near to the idea forme. Pope himfelf by a crowned head, who is reported, on hearing the poet greatly ex- tolled in his prefence, with a view of at- tracting his notice, to have afked, if Mr- Pope were a fiddler. Fools admire, but men of ferSe approve. This prudim fentence has probably made as many formal cbXcombs in litera- X 100 LETTER XVI. hire, as Lord Chefterfield's opinion on the vulgarity of laughter, has among men of high breeding. As a general maxim, it has no foundation whatever in truth. Froneriefs to admiration is a quality rather of temper than of underitanding ; and if it often attends light minds, it is alfo infepa- rable from that warmth of imagination which is requinte for the ftrong perception of what is excellent in art and nature, Innumerable infbmces might be produced of the rapturous admiration with which men of genius have been ilruck at the view of great performances. It is enough here to mention the poet's favourite critic, Longinus, who is far from being contented with cool approbation, but gives free fcope to the moil enraptured praife. Few things indicate a mind more unfavourably confli- ' tuted for the fine arts, than a ilownefs in being moved to the admiration of excel- lence ; and it is certainly better that this paiTion mould at firft be excited by objects rather inadequate, than that it fhould not be excited at all. After properly exhorting his critic to candour and good-nature, the poet is, however, indulgent enough to point out pope's essay on criticism. i6j ibme topics on which he may be as four and fevere as he pleafes. The fifft fault given up to his rage is Obfcenity ; and doubtlefs, if the critic think it worth his while to direct his formidable artillery againfl fuch an obvious violation of pro- priety, no friend of virtue and decorum will restrain him. It was not, however, perfectly decent in Pope to expreis fuch a rigid zeal on this fubject, when feveral of his own juvenile pieces, Hill preferved in all editions of his works, are by no means free from the blemifh he ftigmatizes. The next devoted crime is Impiety. Now, a peribn may be very converfant with the rules of poetical criticifm, without being able exactly to determine on the validity of a charge of impiety ; and there is good reafon to fufpec"t that our young lawgiver was himfelf in this cafe. He fays, The following licence of a foreign reign Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain ; Then unbelieving Priefts reformed the nation, And taught more pleafant methods of falvation. Sociniau is a very potent term of abufe, and has, at various periods, been applied with lingular advantage bv thofe \ X2 i68 LETTER XVI. wifhed to render their antagonifts odious ; yet the religion Socinus profefled will bear companion, in point of fervency and pu- rity, with that of the mod: faintly names upon record. As to the t: more pleafant methods of falvation," we are told by the right reverend annotator (a much better authority on this fubject than the poet) that they were the duties of Chriftian mo- rality, which fucceeded the doctrines of grace and fatisfaclion held in the preced- ing age. Now, that thefe new divines offered falvation upon eaher terms than their predeceffors, by fubftituting practice to belief, and a man's own efforts to vica- rious fatisfaclion, is not a very obvious fact ; nor is it a neceffary confequence of fuch tenets, that " vice fhould find a flat- terer in the pulpit." " Such Monfters," whatever the poet might think, are not to be lubdued by the thunders of belles-lettres critics, but by the adamantine weapons of found argument. Here I clofe my remarks on this per- formance. It would be no difficult talk to adduce from it many more inflances of fhallow judgment on books and things, either incidentally mentioned, or defign- pope's essay on criticism. 169 ed as exemplifications of his ruks ; but my purpofe was to (hew you how little it deferves the high eftimation in which x has been held as a didactic work. This, I truft, has fufficiently appeared, from the vague and inconfequent manner of thinking on fundamental points, diiplayed in the cited paffages. The character of a confummate critic at twenty is what Pope may well rehgn, and ftill retain enough of juft reputation to place him in the mod confpicuous rank of Englifh li- teratue. Farewell ! C *7<> ) LETTER XVIL ON THE ANALOGY BETWEEN MENTAL AXp BODILY DISEASE. DEAR SON, It has been afferted, that every man's way of thinking takes a tinge from his profeftion or manner of life. Of the truth of this remark I am perfonally fenfi- ble, from the habit I have formed of ap- plying medical ideas to moral fubjecls. It is indeed, nothing new to regard all mental vices and defects as fo many difeafes of that part of our frame ; and moralifts of all ages have been fond of running compa- rifons between maladies of the body and the mind. Yet I cannot but think, that iomething ft ill remains to be done in the practical application of the doctrine ; and that it is of importance, both with refpecl to the fuccefsful treatment of mental dif- eafes, and to the preservation of our tran- MENTAL DISEASE. ly t quility under a view of the evils of life, that this refemblance fhould be drongly imprefTed on our thoughts. One confequence would undoubtedly be the refult ; that we fhould not expect to cure thefe diforders by trifling and carnal remedies, but fhould fix our confidence folely on fome vigorous plan, confiding in the refolute application of oppofiies, upon the medical maxim, contraria contrariorur.t ejje remedia. It is the want of power or refolution to put in practice this grand principle of the healing art, that renders moral diflempers in general fo inveterate* What can be relied upon to oppofe ilrong natural inclination, condant example, and confirmed habit, but fome agent equally powerful, which mail, not in the way of perfuafion, but by coercive force, be em- ployed to draw over the mind to a con- trary date of feeling ? Where this can be put in practice, there is no cafe of mo- ral depravity fo defperate as to be without the hope, nay, perhaps, without the cer- tainty, of a cure ; where it cannot, the flighted vitiation is hardly to be removed. It is not without experience that I fpealc in this matter, More than once ha> it lj$ letter XV;:. happened to me to be confulted as a friend on occahon of the difcovery of very rui- nous tendencies in young perfons. In thefe inftances, dilluading all petty expe- dients, I recommended fuch a total change of external circumftances, as would of ne- cejfity induce as complete a change of views and habits ; — and the event juftified my advice. That this was a right method, was, indeed, fufficiently obvious ; but it might not be fo obvious that, it was the only right one ; at lead, parental indul- gence is frequently glad to ihelter i'tfelf under the plaufibility of fome lefs decihve mode of proceeding. But to one who has a juft notion of the operation of mo- tives upon the mind, it will be very appa- rent, that as long as thofe which are in- duced for the purpofe of remedy continue inferior in force to thofe which nourifh the difeafe, no benefit whatever can be expe&ed from their application. Actions which we would avert will either be done, or not be done. They will infallibly be done, if the motives for them preponde- rate; they will not be done, if the con- trary takes place. There is no medium : and fuch is the power of habit, that every mental disease. 173 mftance either of yielding or of refifting, favours a iimilar termination when the trial next occurs. Whence may be de- monvTratively fliewn the weaknefs of ex- pecting any advantage from the mere re- petition of efforts that have already proved unavailing. You are better acquainted than myfelf with the fcholaftic controversies concern- ing liberty and neceflity. I frequently hear them called mere logomachies, and fuch I am inclined to fuppofe they are, when carried to their utmoft degree of abftrac- tion. But that they are not entirely with- out practical effects upon common minds, I am from obfervation convinced ; and in particular, I have no doubt that the ten- dency of the popular notions concerning- mans free-agency, is to infpire too much confidence in the efficacy of the feebler aids to morality, fuch as precept and ar- gumentation . By thofe who entertain ex- alted ideas of the felf-determining power of the foul, it is readily conceived, that placing before it an irrefragable fyllogifm in favour of virtue can fcarcely fail to ena- ble it to refill all the allurements of vice. y 1 74 LETTER XVII. But the poet could long ago pronounce, " Video meliora, proboque, deteriora, fe- cjuor;" the true interpretation of which is, that conviction of the underitanding is not the flrongeit motive that can be prefented to the human mind. A perfon cannot have furveyed man- kind with an attentive eye, without per- ceiving in many cafes fuch an irrefiftible feries of caufes operating in the formation of character, as mult convince him of the actual exiftence of a moral neceflity ; — that is, of fuch an overbearing prepollency of motives tending to one point, that in no one inftant of a man's life could he be iuppofed capable of a courfe of action dif- ferent from that he has really adopted. Purfue an individual belonging to any one of the ftrongly-marked claffes in fociety from the cradle to the grave, and fee if the procefs of fixing his character have not been as regular and unalterable as that of his bodily conftitution. Take one of thofe, too frequent in this great metro- polis, who may be faid to be fuckled with vice and infamy, the breed of a proftitute and houfe-breaker, born and educated in the precind of St. Giles's. With the MENTAL DISEASE. 1 75 firft ufe of language he learns blafphemy and obfcenity ; his little hands are prac- ticed in picking pockets, and his infant understanding in framing tricks and falfe- hocds. His early pleafures are dram- drinking and debauchery of every fpecies ; and when not roufed by appetite or com- pulhon, he panes away the time in the ftupidity of iloth. He fees nothing be- fore him but acts of rapine, cruelty, and brutality. Chafrifements teach him craft, and inflame his paflion for mifchief. Nol only the duties of religion and the obliga- tions of virtue are things utterly beyond his comprehenlion, but he is a perfect flranger to all the comforts of decent life. Thus by the all powerful force of educa- tion and habit he is formed into the cha- racter of a ferocious beaft ; certain to end, his life by violence, if it be not fooner cut off by the confequences of intemperance. This, it will be laid, is an extreme cafe ,• but even in the oppoiite rank of focietv, among thofe who, as we commonly fay, may live as they like, inftances may be found of equal fubj ligation to the law of neceiTity. Take the heir to a large en* Y2 1/6 LETTER XVII. tailed efiate, brought up while a child in $ houfe diftinguifhed for riotous luxury and irregularity. Let him be nurfed in ideas of felf-confequence, nattered by obfequi- pus iervants, and indulged in every caprice of appetite and paflion by weak or negli- gent parents. Transfer him to a public fchool, with a large allowance of pocket- money ; and thence, when rifing to man- hood, to fome genteel college in an univer- fity. Then fend him on his travels, ac- companied by an ignorant mercenary tu- tor. Let him make a due flay in every corrupt metropolis in Europe, the retort of his idle countrymen ; and fmifti by jl ti- dying the town in his own. Laflly, return him with a complete apparatus of guns, horfes and hounds to his native woods, there to refide the uncontrouled lord of a herd of tenants and dependents, with no other object in life than to take his plea- fure and maintain his hereditary fway. Is it in the nature of things poifible that this pian fhould turn out any thing elfe than a low-minded, brutal, tyrannical debauchee ? The phyhcian knows that certain modes of living will infallibly bring on certain difeafes, which will defcend from parents MENTAL DISEASE. I77 to children, and can never be extirpated as long as the original caufes prevail. The moral ill: may equally foretel certain vices as the confequence of certain conditions and manners in lbciety, which will prove unconquerable while circumftances remain the fame. The morbid tendency in both cafes is too itrong to be counteracted by common remedies. Nothing but a total change of habit, effected by means equally powerful and long-continued with thofe which bred the malady, can work a cure. To eftablifh fuch an alternative plan has been the aim of all the great reformers of mankind. It was that, you know, of our molt revered friend, Mr. Howard, who, was fully fenfible what a combination of corrective powers was necefTary to- pro- duce any confiderable and lalting effects upon perfons long hardened by criminal courfes. But fuch coercive methods can only, in the common ilate of things, be applied to thofe who have made them- felves the objects of legal punifhment. For the reformation of a whole people, and efpecially of the higher clafTes, no- thing can be relied upon but one ef thofe grand remedial procejfts, which are proba- I78 LETTER XVII. bly within the moral plan of Providence. Nations whom a long courfe of profperity has rendered vain, arrogant, and luxuri- ous, in whom increafing opulence has ge- nerated increafed wants and defires, for the gratification of which all barriers of honour and juftice are broken down, who are arrived at that Hate in which, accord- ing to the energetic expreflion of the Ro- man hiftorian, they can neither bear their vices nor the remedies of them ; — are only to be brought back to a right fenfe of things by fome fignal cataftrophe, which (hall change the whole form of their affairs, and oblige them to fet out afrefh, as it were, in the world. A conviclicn that fuch events are neceffary, and that they are kindly intended as remedies of greater evils than they immediately occafion, is the only confideration that can tranquilife the heart of a benevolent man who lives in a period when thefe awful operations are in a peculiar manner carrying on*. It may reconcile him to the various de- * Solet fieri. Hoc parum eft : debuit fieri, Decernur.tnr iftaj non accidunt. Ssx ec. Epiji. MENTAL DISEASE. 1 jg lays and fluctuations in the progrefs to- wards a Final event which he cannot but ardently defire. It may convince him that nothing is loft • that no evils are with- out their correfpondent benefits; and that when he wifhes for a fpeedy fettle- in ent of things by the quiet operation of rcafon, without any of the harfh methods by which ftubborn vices are to be forcibly eradicated, he wifhes for an impractica- bility as great, as the furgeon who would hope to cure an inveterate cancer without the knife or the cauflic. Thefe are times, my Son, in which re- flections of this kind are particularly fea- fonable. You are capable of giving them their due force ; and even mould you find yourfelf totally miftaken in your expecta- tions as to the remit of fuppofed remedial procefles, you are provided with princi- ples which will enable vou to acquiefce in the humble confidence that, however dif- tant, the time will come, when all evils both natural and moral (hall receive their final cure. ( i8o ) LETTER XVIIt. ON SPLEEN AND LOW SPIRITS, Do not be alarmed, my dear Son, it the fubj eel of my prefent letter. It is not becaufe I have obferved in you any indi- cations of a tendency to low fpirits that I make them my topic, but becaufe I know them to be the malady that molt eanly 1 befets perfons of a literary turn and feden ~ tary profefliom And however youth and variety of . purfuit may at prefent fecure you againft their attacks, the time will pro- bably come, when it will require fome ef- fort on your part to refill an enemy, whofe afTaults become continually more and more pertinacious, with lefs and lefs power to repel them. So general, indeed, is the evil of low fpirits in certain conditions, that I confider it as the grand leveller of human life — the malignant fpell that renders all the diftihc> SPLEEN AND LOW SPIRITS. 1 8 1 tfons of rank, knowledge and underftand- ing, almoft totally inefficacious in creating ihofe differences of degree in happinefs that {hould feem almoft necelTarily to re- fult from them. It is that which makes the fplendid palace and luxurious banquet of the nobleman lefs pleafant to him than his poor hut and coarfe meal to the la- bourer ; — which defeats the well imagined fchemes of enjoyment from liberal cu- riofity and literary leifure; — which infufes liftleffnefs and difguft amid the mofl flu- died refinement of public amufement ; — which, in fhort, fooner or later, gives con- vincing proof of the vanity of expecting to live happily by living only to be en- tertained. This malady, under the name of Spleen* has been the fubject of a variety of pub- lications, ferious and humourous, moral and medical. Among the reft it has given title to one of the moil original poems in our language, replete with wit, imagery, and obfervations of mankind in an uncommon degree. I need fcarcely tell you that I mean, Greens poem of the Spleen. The author feems, like Horace, Z 1 82 LETTER XVI! Ii to have roved through the regions of phi-* lofophical fpeculation without any decifive choice, till at length he fettled in a refined and rational epicurifm. His favourite maxim is, to let the world glide bv, view- ing its fhifting fcenes as objects of amufe- ment, without being enough intereded in any to feel acutely from difappointment. His is the philofophy of good-humoured fpeculative indolence ; and if a man wants excufes for fitting Hill and avoiding every caufe of trouble and vexation, be can no where furnifh himfelf with happier quota- tions. Who has not heard of Reforming fchemes are none of mine, To mend the world's a vaft defign, Like theirs, who ftrive in little boat To tug to them the fhip afloat, &c. The principle of this, that Zeal when baffled turns to Spleen, mufi be admitted to have fome founda- tion in fact; and may jullly be pleaded againft the indulgence of eager wilhes and extravagant expectations in public pro- jects ; yet I cannot but think, on the other hand, that to inculcate indifference to all thofe objects which are molt capable of roufmg the foul, and giving employment SPLEEN AND LOW SPIRITS. 183 to its nobleit faculties, is not the bed ad- vice for keeping off that liillefs languor which is the parent of fpleen. In fhort, though the perufal of Mr. Green's poem may prove an effectual remedy for an oc- calional fit of low fpirits, yet I am of opi- nion, that the courfe of amuiive lpecula- tion it fo pleafingly fuggeils, with the va- cation from all cares and duties, public and private, will not anfwer as the general re- gimen againft this difeafe of the mind. Were I to treat medically upon this fub- je£{, I fliould lay a very particular ftrefs upon temperance as the grand prophylactic; and I ilioulcl make the word import mucli more than its ufual fignification. A plen- tiful dinner every day on a variety of difhes, with a bottle of wine to wafh it down, feems in the common opinion per- fectly compatible with a plan of ltrict temperance ; and if it be preceded by a regular morning's ride to get a hearty appetite for this dinner, every thing is thought to have been done that men could do for the prefervation of health and ipi- rits. Let gout and hypochondria come when they will, the mode of living is net a a 184 letter xvirr. to be blamed, — the one is hereditary, the ether constitutional. This do&rine may pafs for orthodox in the medico-moral cafuiftry of a vifitation or corporation - feaft; but it is neverthelefs indubitably true, that fuch a good liver has no more right to expeel equal and unclouded fpirits, than a minifter of Hate has, an unfpotted reputa- tion and clear conference. But I mall dwell no longer on this topic, and proceed to that part of the regimen which relates more immediately to the mind. This refts upon a iimple foundation ; for were I afked, upon what circumftance the prevention of low fpirits chiefly de- pended, I mould borrow the ancient ora- tor's mode of enforcing the leading prin- ciple of his art, and reply, employment, employment, employment \ This is the grand panacea for the taediitm vitae, and all the train of fancied evils, which prove fo much more infupportable than real ones. It is a medicine that may be prefented in a thoufand forms, all equally efficacious. It may be compounded of all the different proportions of mental and bodily exer- tion ; nay, it may be folely the one or the •the?, provided it be emphyment. For I SPLEEN AND LOW SPIRITS. 185 will not hefitate to affert, that to have the mind ardently engaged in a purfuit that totally excludes exercife of the body, is much more favourable to the fpirits, than a languid mixture of both. We are apt to pity a perfon occupied by humour" or neceflity in a tafk which we think dull and tirefome. Our compaflion is here mifplaced. No tafk heartily en- tered upon can be tirefome, and a bufinefs is always, better than an amufement. I have no doubt that Dr. Johnfon was much hap- pier while compiling his dictionary, than in the luxurious indolence of Streatham. And what but a confcioufnefs of the ne- ceflity of employment to his comfort could have induced him, in the laft years of his melancholy life, to make ferious propofals for a tranflation of Thuanus ? A late tj-anflator of Homer, whofe admirable original productions have led many to la- ment that he fhould have been fo em- ployed, has in truly pathetic language taken an affectionate leave of his long work, as the fweet folace of many and many an hour, which by its means was made to glide by uncounted. And, I fear, the innate melancholy of genius has X86 LETTER XVIII. rendered him too good a judge of the value of fuch a relief. For anfwering this purpofe, the fpecies of employment muft be one which does not {train the fa- culties to the higheft pitch; for fuch an exertion can be fupported, by common minds, at lealt, only during a fhort pro- portion of time. A fteady equable oc- cupation, requiring rather care and dili- gence, than flights of fancy or the powers of invention, is the proper Jiaple (if I may fo call it) of a well-employed life. With refpect to the numerous body of thofe who may be idle if they pleafe, they will find coniiderable difficultv, as well in the choice of proper employment, as in the exertion of refolution enough for the vigorous performance of a fpontaneous tafk. A majority of them will, therefore, be doomed to the intrunons of Spleen, pt intervals when neither active pleafure nor bufmefs preferves the mind from its at- tacks. But this is no other than the ne- cevlary confequence of fituations of life wholly artificial, and which make no pan of the original plan of human nature. They who are ambitious of (rations in which there are no duties to perform, no. SPLEEN* AN'D LCW SPIRITS. 1 87 incitements to exertion, muft not expect to poffefs that conftant cheerfulnefs, which is the folace of toil, and the reward of ufe- ful activity. Providence certainly never intended to make fuch a difference be- tween creatures of its hand, as that fome fhould live only to enjoy, while others lived only to be the minifters of their en- joyments. Though in an advanced ftage of fociety many muft be exempted from the fentence of eating their bread in the fweat of their brow, yet it is an immutable de- cree that the oil of gladnefs fhall brighten the face of induftry alone. For myfelf and my children, there is no clanger left we fhould come to want mo- tives for the regular employment of the faculties bellowed upon us. Let us not murmur at the kind operation of fuch a neceflity. For how much virtue and hap- pinefs are not men indebted to that confli- tut ion of things, which impofes upon them an obligation to a£t and to refrain. Farewell ! P. S. Since I wrote this letter, I have been perufing a Difcourfe in which the benefits rcfulting from employment are t88 LITTER Willi confidered with reference to the great fyf- tem eftablifhed by the Deity, whereby perfonal and general happinefs are in fo admirable a manner made to coincide. It is there particularly {hewn, how occupa- tion contributes to our happinefs by in- ducing a temporary forgetfulnefs of felf; nothing being fo much the bane of enjoy- ment, as the reference of our adions to xhefelfijh principle. This excellent piece, which I cannot too warmly recommend to your attention, is Dr. Prieftley's Sermon on the Duty of not living to our/elves. ( i8 9 ) LETTER XIX= ON CONSOLATION, DEAR SON, Your intended profeflion refembles tiline in this refpect, that it is a duty fre- quently belonging to each, to adminifter confolation under the fevereft diftrefs hu- man nature can feel, — that arifirig from the lois of friends by death. In mine, indeed, the office is rather fpontaneous than pro- feflional ; and the houfe of difeafe is ge- nerally quitted by the phyficicn when it becomes the houfe of mourning. But where attachments of friendship have made us fomewhat more to a family than mere feed attendants, (and no prbfeflion fo much favours thofe attachments) we can- not hurry away from the fcene of affliction. A a ago letter xrx. Though our art has failed, our counfcl and fympathy may be advantageoufly em- ployed to alleviate human mifery ; and callous indeed muft his heart be, who is capable of refuiing his confolatory aid on the plea, It is not my bufinefs. In fact, few perfons will be found better acquainted with practical confolation than the medical faculty ; and if any experience I may have acquired in this matter can be of fervice to you, to whom it will be truly a profef- iional concern, you will thank me for com- municating it. With refpecl to the confolatory views that religion affords, highly as I think of their efficacy, particularly of that derived from the habit of fubmitting to the dif- penfations of Providence in full confidence of their kind purpofe, I {hall not at pre- fent touch upon them. It is unneceflary for me to fuggeft fuch con fid erat ions to you. I mall confine myfelf flriclly to to- pics which refer to this world, and to our own poweis in fubduing the impreflions of grief. Bit as we cannot expecl to be fuccefsful in removing effects, without a thorough knowledge of their caufe, it will be neceilary to begin with coniidering what ON CONSOLATION. lgl is the real caufe of the forrow we feel from the lofs of friends. I am very far from agreeing with thofe who refer all our fympathetic emotions to /elf. I am Jure that the feelings with which we behold the fufferings of a fellow crea- ture are generally void of the remote!! reference to our own condition. While, then, a dear friend is lying before us in the agonies of a fevcre difeafe, our fympa is pure ; it is directed to him, without any mixture offelfifh coniiderations. But when the itruggle is clofed by death, the cafe i^ entirely changed. If his life was of little confequence to our happinefs, the mind inftantly feels relieved of her burthen ; and the tender regret which remains, is rather a foothing than a diftrefsful fenlatien. It is thus we feel when the infirmities of a good old age are brought to their period, and when long and hopelefs difeafe, which dellroyed ail the ends of living, receives its final cure. But when our dcarell in- tcrells were at (lake in the life of our friend, the inftant of the total extinction of hope is that of the mod exquifite pang of gvief. The very rage and itorm of j A a 5 tions, principally arife from the tendency of their political inftitutions to augment or reltrain the difparity of conditions. Every good government contains in it a levelling principle ; for what is the purpofe o: equal laws, equal rights, equal oppor- tunities of profiting by natural and ac- quired talents, but to annul artificial dif- tin&ions, and cauie the race of life to be run fairly. In return for the protection afforded the rich, it loads them with hea- vier proportional burthens ; and it pro- vides fome legitimate mode by which the will of the many {hall make itfelf known and refpecled^ in order to counteract the grafping projects of the few. But, it may be faid, what, after all; have thefe contrivances done ?— Have they in any country, confiderably advanced in arts and commerce, prevented thofe evils of great inequality which you began with lamenting ? Much lefs, I acknowledge, has been efteded than might have been hoped. But before we enquire further into the profpects of future improvement, let us reflect upon one thing that has been done for the melioration of human life in Gc 2o6 LETTER XX. its lowed form ; and this is, the abolition of domeftic flavery throughout all the civi- lized countries of Europe, Recollect, that in all the ancient {rates, which boafted the moft loudly of their freedom and iJonomy\ the menial fervant, the artifan, the culti- vator of the earth, was a Jlave, who held life and all its petty comforts at the arbi- trary pleafure of a fellow-mortal, often brutal, violent, and needy. Image to yourfelf, ftreets refounding with the lafli and the cries of the tortured — fields co- vered with herds of men in chains, and their drivers- — dungeons and racks in every private houfe — age fuffered to pe- rifh in filth and famine, and youth the prey of luft and cruelty. Is any thing on this fide the Atlantic fo bad as fuch a ftate ? And has not this bleffed change been ef- fected by amending the principles and in- forming the under Handing of men ? We may now, with hearts fomewhat relieved* enter the clofe court and funlefs •alley, Where the pale artift plies the fickly trade 5 where the mechanic, the day-labourer, and thofe employed in the numerous INEQUALITY OF CONDITIONS, 20J vile., but necefiary, offices in a great city, have their abode. The fallow dingy countenances, uncombed locks, and beg- garly apparel of thefe people, difguft your fenfes, and their manners equally {hock your moral feelings. You fhrink back, and are almoft ready to renounce the relationfhip of a common nature with fuch beings, The idea of their prefent and future exiitence makes you (liudder, and all the fplendours of opulence which ihine at the expence of fo much wretch- ednefs, are dimmed in your eyes. But when you confider that thefe are the re- prefentatives of half a million of human beings in this metropolis — that fuch they ever have been, not only here, but in every other feat of arts and commerce — you will be almoll compelled to conclude, that their cafe cannot be fo bad as it feems. Far, far be it from me to infult poverty by declaiming on its advantages I We have had too much of that cant. It is impoiuble honeuly to fuppofe that the perfons I have been defcribing, enjoy an equal (hare of the comforts of this life, however philofophicaliy we eflimate thpfe Cc 2 2o8 LETTER XX comforts. But I can never bring myfelf to believe, that the neceffary condition of a -majority of the human race is a decidedly wretched one. With refpect to thofe I am now considering, a great proportion of them certainly are not deflitute of a va- riety of the things that make life de- firable Survey them more clofely. They have a home, a family, kindred, neighbours, converfe, rights, a certain liberty of ac- tion, and no inconfiderable {hare of fen- fual gratifications. The circumftances that difgufi: you in beholding them, do not difguil themfelves— habit has rendered them callous to the evils of dirt and tatters. When I acknowledge that it has alfo made them infenfible to moral depravity, I per- haps confefs no more than would be true of the modes of life in the higheft ranks of fociety. Their vices are, indeed, grofs and obvious; but you, I am fure, are not one of thofe who eftimate the noxious qualities of a vice chiefly from its groff- nefs. They have their virtues too, and of a kind as undifguifed as their vices. They are ever ready to help one another in difbrefs, and loudly unite in decrying INEQUALITY OF CONDITIONS. '2og every thing unmanly, cruel, and villain- ous. Still, their condition is attended with many ferious evils, which, if they can be remedied, certainly ought to be ; for to the happinefs of fo large a portion of fociety, every other confideration ought to give way. But in order to produce any fa- vourable change, it is firft requifite to dif- tinguilh the neccjfary circumftances of their fituation, from the cafuaL The neceliary, are thofe connected with that inferiority of ilation which, I have attempted to {hew, muft be the condition of a majority in all human focieties, and more efpecially in thofe where the powers of the mind are moil cultivated. I am of opinion, there- fore, that it is not in the power of merely political inftitutions to do more for the ad- vantage of the lower clafTes, than fecure them from oppreflion, and prevent their interefts from being facrificed to the ava- rice and ambition of the higher. Whe- ther this can be done much more effec- tually than is already done by the conffi- tution of our own country, I (hall not enquire ; but I am ready to confefs, that my expectations of benefit are not turned 210 LETTER XX. towards changes in that quarter. It is on the removal of fome of the cafual evils at- tending the condition of the poor, that my hopes of feeing the world happier chiefly depend; among which I reckon grofs ignorance, bad morals, and perni- cious habits. That it is within the reach of human induftry to produce great amend- ment in thefe particulars, and that, even in a metropolis fo enormous and licentious as this, I no more doubt, than that all remain- ing flavery might be abolifhed, as the pari has been. A comparifon of different na- tions and focieties, already affords full demonstration of the great differences in this refpecl that different care and ma- nagement will create. The labouring claries of all towns are not left ignorant of every principle of religion and morality, and void of all encouragement to praclife economy and the decencies of life. To the di I grace of this enlightened country, it has been one of the moft remifs in at- tentions of this fort ; but I truft a fpirit is awakened which will fuffer it to be fo no longer. In promoting a reform of this kind, every man, however contracted his fphere of action, is able to advance the INEQUALITY OF CONDITIONS. 211 public good ; but efpecially, thofe who have devoted themfelves to the improve- ment of morals, poffefs both the ability and the influence requifite for the work. To you, who even during the courfe of your education exhibited an ardent zeal in this caufe, I need not recommend it fur- ther, than by expreffmg my confidence that your attempts will not fail of fuccefs, if not fo much as you would wifh, per- haps more than you would expect. Evils, no doubt, moral and natural, will remain as long as the world remains ; but the cer- tainty of the perpetual exiftence of vice, is no more an argument againft attempting to correct it, than the fame certainty with refpecl: to difeafe, is a reafon againft exer- citing the art of medicine. Adieu' ( 212 ) LETTER XXL ON THE PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. DEAR SON, 41 Truth is mighty and will prevail," is the axiom that for ages has adminifter^ ed confolation to thofe reafoners, whofe efforts in a favourite caufe have not been crowned with prefent fuccefs. That the foundation of this axiom is folid, I am by no means inclined to difpute ; and far be it from me to attempt extinguifhing that hope, which has prevented fo many gene- rous friends of mankind from finking into defpondency. Yet if its application have in any inftances led to expectations which probably can never be realifed, or if a confident reliance upon it have damped the ardour of due exertion, it may be ufeful to reduce it within the limits of ftricl: reality. In fact, the affertion that " truth muft al- PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. 21 3 ways finally prevail," appears to me much too general, and not to be acquiefced in without many diftindions and limitations. The grounds of fome of thefe will be the iubjed of my prefent letter. Of the obftacles to the prevalence of truth, there are fome apparently fo con- nected with the nature and condition of man, that a 1 majority of the fpecies muft ever labour under their influence. Such are, efpecially, thole proceeding from the operation of ungoverned paflions and de- iires, during which the mind is never per- mitted to exercife that calm judgment which is absolutely necefTary for the inves- tigation of truth. Every fubjed which firongly excites the emotions of hope and fear, is liable to this caufe of error. The medium through which it is viewed, is fo ruffled, that it tranfmits all objeds falfe and diitorted. In cafes like thefe, the^^- cies receives no improvement, and each /«- dividual has the whole procefs of meliora- tion to go through for himfelf. He muft by his own exertions acquire the due regula- tion of his heart, as much as the free ufe of his limbs, and the attainments o£ his Dd 214 LETTER XXr, predecefibrs afford him no aflidance. As a man born in the eighteenth century is no better able to endure cold, hunger, and fatigue, than one born in the firft, fo nei- ther can he better refill the impreflions of terror and defire. Now, many of thofe fubjecls in which falfe opinions are mod prevalent, lay fuch hold on the weak parts of man, his paflions and affeclions, that he is in general incapa- citated from making proper ufe of the ex- perience of pad ages, and feems doomed to run a perpetual round of the fame fol- lies and miflakes. This is the caufe why reafon has not been able to do more in abolifhing fuperdition. Various fpecies of it have cccahonally been rendered un- fafhionable by ridicule or detection ; but the principle itfelf flill keeps its hold in the human bread, ready to feize every opportunity of regaining all the influence it may have lod. In countries the mod enlightened by fcience and letters, it is wonderful how much fuperdition is con- da ntly lurking among the vulgar of al ranks, .nay, among the enlightened them- felves : for where the temper difpofes to it, both learning and fcience may be made PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. 11$ to afford additional materials for it to work upon. A faith in omens, proprie- ties, and horofcopes, in fortunate names and numbers, in warnings and apparitions, in fupernatural cures, and other fraudulent pretenfions refpeclingthe principal objects of hope and fear, is no more likely at the prefent day to be eradicated, than it was at any former period. Reafon has no greater power over thefe delufions, than the Roman fenate had over the influence of the Chaldean foothfayers : Genus ho- minum (fays Tacitus) quod in civitate noftra et vetabitur femper, et retinebitur." It has rendered them in a certain degree difcreditable, and reduced them to ope- rate more in fecret than formerly, and more individuals have been freed from their fway ; but he mult know little of the actual flate of things, who fuppofes their prefent influence to be inconhderable, or, perhaps, diminifliing. It might, indeed, be imagined, that caufes which had gra- dually been producing a certain eftecl, might confidently be expected to go on producing it in a greater and greater de- gree; but I fear this will not be found tq Dd 2 >2l6 LETTU XXI, correfpond with the real march of human affairs, which, in many cafes, more re- fembles the motion of a pendulum, which, having fwung to a certain height, thence- forth moves in a contrary direction. Thus It feems as if fuperftition, after having been weakened by the repeated attacks of wits and philofophers, was at prefent recover- ing 'its ftrength. It has obvioufly met with encouragement from perfons of fome note, who have probably feen a connexion between that ftate of mind which mak&s men fubmiflive to fuperftitious belief, and the docility necelTary for the reception of fyftems of faith which they were interefted in fupporting. Myfteries of all forts are allied, and one formula of arguing ferves equally in favour of all — u Becaufe there are certain truths which you cannot help admitting, though apparently contradic- tory to reafon and analogy, you have no right to object to thofe who offer you on the ground of fuch contradiction." Thus all a priori concluhons concerning truth and falfehood are intercepted, and man- kind are left to contend in each individual cafe with the artifices of fophifm and im- pofture. PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. 21 7 I have often thought it a very hazardous mode of argument which the friends of religion, even the more rational, have been accuftomed to ufe in their controver- sies with unbelievers. " If (fay they) there be no providence, no future Hate, no obligation to divine worfhip, you mutt, however, acknowledge that no danger can enlue from acting as if there were. But if, on the contrary, thefe things are real, we hold that there is the greateft of all dangers in acting as if they were not." Coniider what ufe may be made of this kind of reafoning by papifts again ft pro- teftants, and by the narrower feels of the latter againit the more liberal. " You ac- knowledge that a man may be faved in our church if his intentions are upright, and his morals pure ; but we deny that ial- vation is poftible in yours on any condi- tions. Common prudence mould there- fore induce you to adopt that which both parties allow to be fafe, rather than that •which one alone, (perhaps the moft nume- rous) thinks to be fo." By thus in ducing prudential confiderations into quef- t ions of truth, feels, in order to gain pro- felytes, are encouraged to become as CL 1 8 LETTER XXI. and uncharitable as poflible, arid to aim at frightening men into their row pale as the only place of refuge, This, in fact, is an advantage which bi- gotry has long poffeded, and probably will ever poffefs, over moderation. ExclufTve pretentions, whether refpe&ing this world or another, will ever find powerful fup- ports in the hopes and fears of mankind ; and he who addreffes both thefe pamons will act with double the power of him who applies only to one. For a fimilar reafon, all thofe fyftems of faith which offer men eternal felicity upon eafier terms than their own endeavours — * that fhift, as it were the load of refponfi- bility from them, upon characters of myf- terious dignity, who are to be repaid by the cheap fervices of unbounded homage arid adoration — that inculcate fears which no confcious rectitude can calm, and nou- rifh hopes that no felf-examination can warrant, will fcarcely fail of rendering themfelves acceptable to the multitude, fo long as they are fupported by fatisfac- iory authority. And how is this autho- rity, once received, to be fhaken ? If it ;.nd en hifiorical evidence, can a whole PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. 21 g people be expected to enter into an exa- mination of events believed at the time of their palling, and delivered down unques- tioned through many generations of their anceltors ? Is not this continuity of be- lief the belt evidence they pofieis for the truth of all their national records? If it xefer to interpretation, will not the fame arguments which have determined the neral fenfe of a writing in times pall, con- tinue to operate in any future attempts to interpret it ? I fuppoie, in this cafe, fame fair intentions, and the fame colla- teral aids, to exift in both periods. But nations have, in fact, changed tl. fyflems. They have; but not, I con- ceive, from the unaided operation of rea • fon and argument. In all remarkable changes of this kind, we mall difcover, befides the more immediate interference of divine power, fuch a concurrence of circumftances, as was capable of a coercive action upon men's minds, and which can- not at pleafure be renewed by thole who may wifh to produce (imilar effects. For the capability of receiving truth, there mull always be certain preparations. I do not reckon freedom from error ©ne 226 LETTER XXU of thefe, for then truth would be able- 1 lutely unattainable ; no man being without falfe opinions, who had not already im- bibed true ones. But I mean certain qua- lities moral and intellectual ; which- beftow a fitnefs to be acled upon by argument. One of the mod eflential of thefe, is the fair honeft defire of difcovering the truth, and following whitherfoever it may lead. But how large a portion of mankind is precluded from this ftate by previoufly determined interefts and partialities ! How few, even among the pretended enquirers after truth, can fay with the ever-memorable John Hales, U For this, I have forefaken all hopes, all friends, all denies, which might bias me, and hinder me from driv- ing right at what I aimed." On the con- trary, are we not very fure, that when perfons of certain defcriptions engage in what they call an inveftigation of truth, they have before hand decided what con- clufions to eitablifh, and without fuch a decinon would never have undertaken the talk? Further, how much diligence, how much rtudy, what freedom from diflrac- tions, what renunciation of common plea- PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. 221 fures and purfuits, are not neceTTai y for the iuccefsful fearch after truth! It can be little lefs than the whole bufinefs of a man's .. life — u Vitam impendere vero." Ought we then to blame the ancient philofophers when they limited the power of acquiring intellectual truth to a few, and propofed it as the noble prize to be contended for by a number felected from the vulgar ? Truth of no kind is of eafy acquifition — that truth, I mean, which is the refult of examination; for true opinion Hum- bled upon by chance, and only by follow- ing the authority of great names, is no certain pofTeflion, and will readily give place to error more highly patronized. Truth in fcience is only arrived at by la- borious experiment and patient deduction. Hiftorical truth requires for its inveftiga- tion perfecl impartiality, and an acquaint- ance with every poffible inlet to fraud and miflake. Moral truth demands a heart capable of feeling it. Religious truth is not attained without an union of the re- quiiites for all the other fpecies of truth. Have we, then, any well-grounded reafon to hope that the majoritv of mankind will Ee 22*2 LETTER XXI. ever come to a general perception d£ What is fo obfcured by difficulties in the detail ? If you fliould think the doctrine of this letter fomewhat inconfiRent with my for- mer one On the purfuit of Improvement, tfecbllcct,- that the tenor of that was to fhew the natural progrefs towards perfec- tion in every practical art on which the human faculties are in earneit employed — and the advantage to be derived from that reference to general principles which is properly termed philofophy. To free men from thofe weaknevTes of their nature which oppofe the admiffion of abftract truth, is a very different attempt ; which, however, is not to be given up in defpair becaufe it cannot be fo fuccefsful as we fliould wifh. Truth will prevail — how far ? As far as it is purfued with a proper temper, and by peifons properly qualified. Place be- fore fuch men an object of controverfy capable Of being decided, and be allured that it will finally be decided according to truth. But that falfe opinions on fubjects which warmly intereft the paflions of man* kind will ever ceafe to fway the multitude, PREVALENCE OF TRUTH. is what I dare not promife myfelf. A fin- gular example of the different fitnefs of different men to receive truth is afforded by the modern impofture of Animal Mag- netifm. When its pretenfions were fub- mitted to a board of philofophers in France, its futility was clearly and unanimoufly efrablifhed. Still, however, that clais who are the proper fubjects of decep- tion were deluded by its bold promifes, and myfterious reafonings; and am< them the delufion in fome meafure ftill fubtills. It cannot, however, (land long ; but its votaries will remain jufl as prone as before to fall into another plaulible de- Jufion. Meantime, fuch is the iutriniic value of truth, that no other encouragement is wanted to animate to the vigorous purfuit of it, than the diftant hope of attaining it for ourfelves, and propagating it among a fele&few; for in facl, of all the diffi ences between mortals, the different de- cree in which they are poffeffors of truth is incomparably the greateit. Nor can it be doubted that a large mare of it is within reach of man, though net of all wen* Ee 2 224 LETTER XXI. Like the innoculation of the fmall pox, it confers iridifputable benefits on thofe who receive it ; yet too few will probably ever receive it to produce ftriking effects upon the whole fpecies. Let truth be fairly offered to the world without the veil of myftery, in her own naked radiance. If the world fail to recognize her, and leave her to a few enamoured votaries, let them confole themfelves with the afiurance that Truth, like Virtue, is her own reward. Farewell ! ( 22 5 ) LETTER XXII, pN SECOND THOUGHTS AND MIDDLE COURSES. DEAR SON, 41 Second Thoughts are bed," fays a frequently-quoted proverb. Confidered as a prudential maxim, its truth, I believe, cannot be controverted; for there are few points of evil to be avoided or advantage to be gained, in which mature delibera- tion is not better than hafty decifion. But that they are ieft y in the fenfe of being more conformable to moral or natural truth, in my opinion, is fo far from rea- lity, that I mould more readily acquiefce in a proportion nearly the reverfe — that firft impreflions are moil to be relied on. This, however, I do not mean to aftert without limitation. Where a mind is well-prepared for the reception of truth, by rectitude of inten- 20,6 LETTER XXIi, rion, and a habit of accurately conceiving what is prefented to it, a queftion of mo- ral conduct is almod: always belt decided by the feelings immediately confequent upon ftating the cafe ; and after-thoughts, in fuch inftances, are ufually the fophiltry of felf-intereit or partiality. I afk myfelf, fhali 1 make a folemn profeflion of what I do not believe. No ! (cries indignantly Firft Feeling) — better to fiarve ! Come (fays Second Thought) let us conlider the matter calmly ; for there are many reafons why it would be convenient to make this profeflion. Examine its words — fee if they will bear no other fenfe than the moft obvious. At any rate, will not the end juftify the means? It then begins its in- genious operations, and, in conciuhon, the thing is done. 1 have promifed a man my fupport— {hall I keep my word ? — Certainly V Can you doubt it ? Would you be a rafcalV— But I wifh I could difengage myfelf, for really I do not like the man.' His politics or religion are different from what I took them to be ; and I mould do more good by difcouraging him. Beiides, . every promife is by its very nature conditional. SECOND THOUGHTS, £sV. 5$j and he has virtually broken his part of the conditions. — Indeed! then ufe your difcretion. % In this manner it is that every triumph, ill a heart not totally vitiated, is gained by cowardice, meannefs and felfifhnefs, over fpirit, honour, and generohty. Confci- ence is never dilatory in her warnings. She pronounces clearly and inftantly, and her firft voice is the true oracle. By pro- lix and varied repetitions of the quefiion, with foreign circumftances introduced for the purpofe of perplexing, the refponfe may at length be rendered almoft any- thing we wifh it, and confcience may be cheated into acquiefcence in the moil abo- minable conclufions. It is thus, that in our corporeal mechanifm, a deleterious fubftance taken into the itomach, excites inftant and violent efforts for its expulhon ; but after a due repetition of dofes, pro- perly proportioned and combined, the ilimulus ceafes to be felt, and abhorrent nature becomes reconciled to the inftru- ment of her deftruclion. It was upon the fyftem of Second Thoughts that the famous morality of the Jefuits was founded. They eftablifhed it 228 LETTER XXII, as a rule, that in a cafe of conference, if a ■probable opinion, or one fupported bv the authority of a fingle grave doctor, could be brought in favour of inclination, againil an opinion confefTedly more probable, it was fufficient to juitify a determination conformable to it. And they took good care that their cafuifts fhould be furniflied with probable opinions of all forts for the ufe of thofe who put their confeiences un- der the direction of the fociety. The following edifying ftory is related by one of their graveit fathers, from whom it is copied in the celebrated Provincial Letters. 11 A man who was carrying a large fum of money in order to make reftitution by command of his confefTor, called at a bookfeller's (hop by the way, and afking if they had any thing new, was fliewn a nezv fyftem of Moral Theology. Turning over the leaves careleffly, he happened to light on his own cafe, and found that he was riot obliged to reftitution ; fo that having got rid of the burthen of his fcru- ple, and retaining the burthen of his mo- ney, he returned home lighter than he went out." Such lucky occafions- of fe- cond thought, the pious author attribute.-: skdotob thoughts, tst, 229 to the fpecial interference of God's provi- dence, by the miniftry of a man's guar- dian angel. The fpeedieft decifions of Reafon, as well as of Conscience, are frequently the foundeft. Extravagant projects^ abfurd propoiitions, impudent preteniions, are re- jected with fcorn when firit offered to the mind ; and it is only in confequence of re- hearings, at which fraud and fophiiiry are advocates, with wiles, like th'ofe of Co- mus, u baited with reafons not unplau- iible," that they at length work their way. Many high claims there are upon our ac- quielcence, which the foul of man would i'purn with contempt and loathing, did it abide by its fpontaneous decifions. It may be affirmed to have been the chief bufi- nefs of fcliolaftic learning for many ages, to llirle this voice of imbiafled reafon, and inure men to form determinations con- trary to firit convictions. How many mighty volumes could I point but to you, the whole purpofe of which is to reconcile the mind to fome manifelt contradiction, or to difprove fome felf-evident truth ! I remember to have read, that in the con- Ff 2:» iitra ") I, and labours to throw aft 1 of majeily over things in their own nature mean and trivial. Thus, when Emaeus is introduced making himfelf a pair of brogues' oul of a raw hide, we are told in the note, lt that we mult not judge 242 LETTER XXIU. of the dignity of men from the employ- ment they followed three thoufand years paft, by the notions we have of thofe employments at prefent ;" and this admo- nition is followed by fome obfervations on the dignity of arts in their infancy, on the cookery of Achilles, and on the cuftom of the Turkim emperors to learn fome me- chanic trade. Now what is this but a la- boured attempt to delude? The real dignity of any condition can only depend on the qualities requilite to fill it, or the habits of thinking and acting acquired in exerciiing its functions. A keeper of fwine and maker of fhoes mud ever de- rive his manners and ideas from the ft ye or the worklhop ; and his relative confe- quence in any fociety only exhibits the re- e advance of that fociety in power and civilization. Can any thing therefore be more abfurd, than a remark of the fame annotator, on the circumftance, that Me- lanthius the goatherd, bringing a fupply of Lt to the fuitors, is made to fit at table with them? tl We may gather from ice the truth of an obfervation for- }y made, that Melanthius, Eumaeus, were pcrfons of diftinciion, and their POETICAL TRANSLATION, 243 offices pofls of honour: we fee Melan- thius who had charge of the goats of Ulyfles is a companion for princes." This fame Melanthius, juit before, on meeting with Eumaeus, is by Homer reprefented as infulting him in the grofieft terms, and telling this perfon of diftinclion that he (hall foon have to carry him out of the iiland and fell him for a nave. That fuch men were made companions by the fuitors, is indeed a proof how little the fuitors were elevated above them, but furely does not prove that the goatherd and fwineherd were any thing more than goatherds and fwineherds. This incongruous alliance of modern ideas affixed to the terms of royalty, with the eircumftances antiently annexed to the office, has contributed more than any thing to give a ludicrous air to many paflages of Pope's Odyfley, and to millead the Eng- lifli reader in his notions of the ftate of manners in that period. Thus, when Mi- nerva in a dream tells Nauficaa to prepare for her nuptials, for that the ben among the Phoeacians, her kinfmen, have for fome time been paying their court to her, the tranflator metamorphofcs thele 244 LETTER XXIIJ. petty chieftains into fo many p^ kin Vir^n, awake ! thy marriage hour is nigh, See from their thrones thy kindred monarchs fi The preparation for this royal wedding- was that the princefs mould fpend a day in wafhing her foul clothes, and {lie is ad- monifhed by the Goddefs to afk from her father a carriage drawn by mules, 4t for ^1 (fays (lie with great limplicity) it will be v handibmer for you to ride than to walk, as the wafning pits are at a good diitance from the town." A fearcher after real manne: d with this flroke of nature in uncultivated life ; but he can oni tired by the tranflatcr's lefque a • it. In pomp r"d2 forth, fir pomo becomes the Great, And Majefty derives a grace from ilate. Nauficaa and her maids mount this " roval car" or wain leaded with foul clothes ; 2nd her careful mother puts good {lore of provifron into a chelt, and fills a goat-fkin with wine. They likewife take a -olden crufe full of oil, that they might anoint themfelves after the work was over. POETICAL TRANSLATION. 2^tf Thefe (imple circumuance.s are thus drefT- ed out by the tranflator. The Qjeen, afllduous, to her train afllgns The fumptuous viands and the flavorous wines* The train prepare a crufe of curious mold, Acruifc of fragrance, form'd of burniftYd gold; Odour divine ! whofe foft refrefhing ft reams Sleek the fraooth fkin, and fcent the fnpwy limbs. In this ftyle is the whole adventure re- lated ; and while actions and difcoiirfes denoting the very infancy of civilization pafs in review before you, the language perpetually excites images derived from the courts of modern Europe. Where Nauficaa in Homer tells Ulyffes that he will find her mother fitting on the hearth within the blaze of the fire, leaning againft a pillar, the tranflator fays for her, Seek thou the Queen along the rooms of ft ate ; and where the original goes on to fay, that her maids, (ufing a word properly mean- ing female flaves) are fitting behind her, the politer copy gives her an attendance of ladies of honour ; Around a circle of bright damfels fhine$ LETTER XXIIF. This is fufficient to exemplify that common fault of modern tranflatioii, dif- guifing the original by a fictitious colour- ing. It is, I conceive, when carried to the degree of the examples above cited, a fault of the greateft magnitude, depriving the reader of the amufement and informa- tion he would receive from a true repre- fentation of ancient modes of thinking and freaking, and giving him nothing inflead but an incongruous mixture of iimpiicity ia action with refinement in language. Another fault in tranilation, generally accompanying the former, though of fomewhat different origin, is the fpirit o£ exaggeration and hyperbole, which con- stantly endeavours to improve upon the original image or fentiment by pulhing it tg an extravagance beyond the bounds of truth and propriety. This is, fo frequent, an error, that it would be eafy to multiply examples of it from even our molt cele- brated writers, Dryden's tranfiation of Virgil abounds with it. Thus, in the ftory of Cacus, when Hercules rolls down upon his cave the fragment of a rock, the Ro- man poet thinks it fufficient to fay, " that the wide ether re founded, and the affright- POETICAL TRANSLATION. 247 ed river rolled backwards." But Dryden makes the river fairly fink into the ground, and the fky equally terrified, run, no one can tell whither ! The Iky fhrunk upwards with unufual dread, And trembling Tiber div'd beneath his bed. Thus too, where Virgil fays no more than that Turnus lopt offa warrior's head 'at a blow, and left the trunk on the fand, Dryden adds, » ■ the Latian fields are drunk With ftreams that iflued from the bleeding trunk. But the molt ludicrous hyperbole of this kind that I have met with, is in Rowe's tranflation of the Pharfalia. Lucan, de- fcribing an army reduced to great flraits for want of provifion, reprefents the fol- diers, after having eaten the fields quite bare, as plucking with their teeth the wi- thered herbs from their ramparts. This is extravagant enough, according to his ufual manner ; but his tranfktor far out- does him : Then rav'nous on their camp's defence they fay, And grind with greedy jaws the turfy wall, Hh % 248 LETTER XXIII. It is confidering this fault of tranftation in too favourable a light to charge it upon an exuberant warmth of imagination, be- yond the controul of judgment. This might in fome meafure have been the cafe with a Dryden ; but a writer of the coldeft imagination may eafily, from the ilores of poetical phrafeology, borrow flowers of hyperbole to interweave at random into the tifTue of a gaudy tranflation, where he is at no expence for original ideas. This figure is indeed the mofl common with the moft ordinary writers. Pope, as far as I have remarked, is extremely Sparing in its ufe ; while his coadjutors Broome and Fenton feem to think it the very cha- racteriftic of poetical language. A line of the latter in the fourth book of the Odyffey will amufe you. It is part of the defcription of the palace of Mene- iaus. Above, beneath, around the palace (bines The jumlcfs treafure of exhaujted mixes. With refpect to the prolixity, the un- meaning fuperfluities, and the conftrained (expreflions, fo commonly to be met with in tranllations, as they Indicate me?e want POEtrCAL TRANSLATION. 2£Q of poetical talents, they are fcarcely ob- jects of criticifm. They are evidently much increafed by the ufe of rhyme, which aggravates all the difficulties of bringing the fenfe of the tranflation into a form and compafs refembling that of the original. Yet as long as rhyme is more pleafing to the readers of Eriglifh poetry in general than blank verfe, I would not aflert that tranflation ought to be deprived of its aid, more than original compoiition. It never mould be forgotten, that the firft purpofe of writing is to be rehd ,■ and that if this be not anfwered, a book may be an addition to the furniture of a library, without be- ing any to the flock of literary amufement in a country. By this criterion, after all every performance mull be tried ; not, indeed, by merely counting the number of its readers, but by eftimating the pleafure derived from it by thofe who from habit and education are bed prepared for fuch enjoyments. Many of the poetical writ- ings of antiquity are, I believe, incapable of pleafing in a tranflation, upon whatever plan it be conducted. When a man of t rue genius is led to engage m fuch a taflc. 250 LETTER XXIII. we are bound rather to lament the wade of his powers, than to wafte our own time in trying to relifli the fruit of his injudi- cious labours. Adieu ! < 2 5 x ) LETTER XXIV. OM RUINS. I do not wonder, my dear Son, at the cnthufialm with which you relate your vifit to the celebrated ruins of Ab- bey. The natural charms of the fcenery in the midft of which they are placed, their own intrinfic majefty and beauty, the rarity of fuch a fpeclacle, and the train of ideas afifociated with it, all contribute to render it one of the moft interefting ob- jects of a traveller's curiofity. I cannot but think, however, that the extraordinary paffion for ruins of every kind which at prefent prevails, has in it a good deal of the rage of a predominant fafhion, and goes beyond all bounds of fober judgment. And as in a former letter I ventured to appreciate another point of modern tafte, with which this is confiderably connected, the new ftyle of gardening, I fliall, in this, Q.$2 LETTER XXIV. canvafs feme of the principles on which our admiration of ruins is founded. The firft impreflion made by the view of a mafs of ruins can fcarcely in any country have been of the pleating kind. It mud have been that of wade, and de- flation — of decayed art and loft utility. If the " fmiling works of man" in their -perfect ftate w^ere always objects of de- light, their forlorn and dilapidated condi- tion mull: have excited melancholy emo- tions. Thus we find that the horrors of the howling wildernefs were in the poetical Teprefentations of the earlieft writers ag- gravated by the picture of ruined edifices ; nor can we, I imagine difcover in all an- tiquity, traces of any other ideas afToci- ated with thefe fpeclacles. But melan- choly itfelf is a fource of pleafure to a cultivated mind, and images of grandeur and fublimity rife to the fancy on con- templating the operation of fome mighty caufe, whofe effects do not too nearly in- tereft us. Hence the refined tafte of mo- dern times, occupied at leifure in extract- ing from every object die whole fum of fen- timent it is capable of affording, has attach- ed to ruins a fet of ideas, formerly either ON RUINS* 253 little attended to, or overwhelmed by acuter fenfations. Nor have they been only regarded as fentimental objects. The neweft and moft fafhionable mode of con- fidering them, is with refpeel to the place they hold in the piflurefqne ; and it is chiefly under this character that they have become fuch favourites with landicape painters and landfcape writers. The pleafing erTecl of ruins on the eye^ may be merely the confequence of their having been parts of a grand or beautiful piece of architecture. The relics of Gre- cian temples, and theatres, or of Roman baths and palaces, the tall Corinthian pil- lars which fupported fome coloflal portico, the long ranks of a broken colonade, the high-roofed cathedral aide, and Gothic window with its rich compartments and delicate tracery, are all objects on which the nobleft arts have beftowed intrinfic value. They are alfo rarities 3 and they form a ftr iking contrail with the ruftic and folitary fcenes in which ruins are ufually found. No wonder, then, that the bar- barous hand is execrated which levels with the duft the fair remnants of a cultivated Ii '254 LETTER XXIV. age, nor that the eye of tafte and know- ledge lingers in filent admiration on thefe gems that glitter amid the defart. In this view, however, ruins have no peculiar value as fuch ; on the contrary, the leis ruinous, the better ; and a remain of anti- quity in perfect preservation is the great delideratum to the lover of the arts. But ruins, ftill as objects of fight, are not without beauties peculiarly their own, which render them the favourite fubjects of the pencil, and the admiration of all who travel in fearch of the ptturefque. According to their feelings, the regular lines of art but ill harmonize with the free ilrokes of nature ; and in a landfcape they prefer the itick-built hovel and thatched cottage to the neat uniformity of an elegant manfion. But in ruins, even of the moil regular edifices, the. lines are fo foftened by decay or interrupted by demolition ; the ftiffnefs of deiign is fo relieved by the accidental intruiion of Springing fhrubs and pendant weeds ; that even the richeft decorations of art feem not mifplaced amid the wildnefs of uncultivated na- ture. This mixture, too, produces fome- what perfectly lingular ,* and novelty in ON RUINS. <2$5 itfelf is ever a fource of pleafure. The ivy creeping along Gothic arches, and forming a verdant lattice acrols the dis- mantled cafements, bufhes darting through the chafms of the rifted tower, and wild flowers embracing its battlements, are the fantaftic ftrokes of nature working upon patterns of art, which all the refinement of magnificence cannot imitate. It is, how- ever, obvious, that for a ruin to be worth preferring as a figure in the landfcape, it mull have belonged to a work of fome grandeur or elegance, and ill exhibit the faded features of thofe qualities. A mere mafs of rugged mafonry, a cracked gable or tottering wall, can give no other impreffions than thofe of decay and defol- iation. They may, indeed frill be piclu- refque in the literal fenfe of the word; that is, they may with fuitable accomon- niments be happily introduced into a pic- tured landfcape ; but this is only a confe- quence of the imperfection of painting as an imitative art, whereby the harfh and prominent features of deformity are foft- ened into eafe and fpirit. Who has not feen an old lime-kiln or dilapidated barn I i 2 $5$ LETTER XXIV. wrought by the hand of a mailer into a finking piece of fcenery? Yet, I pre- fume, no perfon of elegant perceptions would choofe to have fuch real objecls confront his eye in the walks which he has led round his cultured domains. With refpect to the fentimental effects of ruins, they are all referable to that prin- ciple of affociation which connects ani- mate with inanimate things, and paft with prefent, by the relation of place. There cannot be finer topics for addrefTes to the imagination than this circumftance affords ; and poetry and oratory are full of exam- ples of its application. The view of a field of battle in which the fate of a mighty kingdom was decided ; of gloomy towers once confcious to deeds of horror ; of ruin- ed palaces, the ancient abodes of fplen- dour and feflivity ; of deferted towns where fcience and arts formerly flourifhed ; of the rooflefs choir and mouldering cloifrer, once vocal to pious himns, or facred to contemplation ; cannot but powerfully move every fufceptible breafl, The ge- neral fentiment infpired by fuch fcenes is chat of the mutability of human affairs ; a ad in certain rempers of the foul, nothing ON RUINS. 257 can be fo fweetly foothing 33 the terider yet elevated melancholy excited by the contrail of the fpe&acle before our eyes, and that beheld by the imagination. There is a mood, (I fing not to the vacant and the young) There is a kindly mood of melancholy, That wings the foul, and points her to the Ikies ; When tribulation clothes the child of man, When age defcends with forrow to the grave, 'Tis fweetly foothing fympathy to pain, A gently wakening call to health and eafe. How mufical ! when all devouring Time, Here fitting on his throne of ruins hoar, While winds and tempefts fweep his various lyre, How fweet thy diapafon, Melancholy ! Dyer, Ruins of Rome. But to enjoy this ftrain of meditation to advantage, it is nece(Tary 4 that the place or remain mould refer to fomewhat really inlerefting — that the relics fhould be fuf- ficient to afford fome aid to the fancv — and that the emotions infpired by the re- collected fcene be of a kind not incon- gruous with thole we are likely to bring with us to the fpot. 1 cannot but fufpect, that the undiftinguifhing pafTion for ruins is only a proof how little their admirers are in general fentimentally afTeLled by them. A gay party rambling through the 258 LETTER XXIV. walks of a delightful pleafure-ground, would find an unpleafant damp ftriking upon their fpirits on approaching an awful pile of religious ruins, did they really feel the force of its affociations. Were they not capable of gazing at them as mere objects of curiofity, they would be fenfible of a certain incongruity of place and oc- casion. Whilft, on the other hand, the genuine child of fancy, often too much difpofed to a melancholy which our cli- mate and habits of thinking naturally fa- vour, might be led by fuch an adventi- tious aid to indulge his penfive humour to a hurtful excefs. Upon the principle of afTociation it will, however, appear, that the greater part of the relics of antiquity in this coun- try can produce but trifling effects on the heart. The ideas they fuggeft are thofe of forms of life offering nothing dignified or pleahng to the mind. The cancellated man lion of the ancient Baron, of which nothing is left but a (battered tower, .ning over the fruitful vale, reminds us only of the item tyranny, brutal ignorance and grofs licentioufnefs, which ftained the times of feudal anarchy. And if we- look ON RUIN'S. 259 back to the original ft ate of our ordinary monadic remains, what {hall we fee, but a fet of beings engaged in a dull round of indolent pleafures, and fuperftitious prac- tices, alike debafmg to the heart and un- derflanding? We are rejoiced that their date is paft; and we can have little induce- ment to recal them from that oblivion into which they are defervedly funk, and which belt accords with their primitive infignifi- cance. But there is a (ct of literati who will regard all that can be laid about the pic- turefque and fentimental effecls of ruins as mere trifling, and will direct your atten- tion folely to their importance as bijlorical records. This weighty topic I fhall not attempt to difcufs at any length. But I may venture to fuggeft, that much of their iuppofed value in this refpecl proceeds from the notion, that what would be of no fort of confequence if modern, acquires importance merely from its antiquity. In a narrative of the king of Pruilias cam- paigns, we are content with tracing all his considerable aclions, and entering into his leading defigns, without attempting to at certain the precife fpot of every encamp- «26o LETTER XXIV. ment, or the fcene of every fkirmifh. But if the antiquary, from the veftiges of a ditch and remains of a rampart, can ren- der it probable that Agricola in his march againfr the Caledonians occupied fuch or fuch an eminence, he felicitates himfelf as the difcoverer of a fact of high moment, and pafles, among his brethren, as a mofl able and ingenious elucidator of the early hiftory of Britain. Now, this is fo harm- lefs a piece of literary parade, that it may be fpared a rigorous fcrutiny. But, in re- turn, the farmer mould be allowed an equal attention to the improvement of his land, and not be treated as a barbarian if he in- diftinguifhably levels both vallum and fojja with his plough. Since the art of writing has fubfifted, all the important tranfaciions of civilized nations have been tranfmitted in the page of the hiftorian, with a copioufnefs and ac- curacy fo infinitely fuperior to what can be done by monumental remains, that the ut- mod we can expedl to gain from the itudy of the latter with this view, is the obfcure intimation of fome fact, thrown afide, as it were, by the cotemporary chronicler, as not worth the pains of recording. Whe- ON JRUTNS*' <26t ther in the prefent Hate of knowledge it be an objed of importance to colled fcraps and rubbifh which were rejected in their day even by monks and friars, I leave you to determine for yourfelf. Farewell) Kfc C *62 ) LETTER XXV. REMARKS ON AN ARGUMENT IN FAVOUR OF THE REALITY OF SPECTRAL APPEAR- ANCES. DEAR SON, In a former letter I hinted to you, that fuperftitious belief was yet very far from being banifhed from this country ; and that there was a difpofition in fome perfons, far removed from the Vulgar, to favour it. The late Dr. Johnfon was of this number. A narrow education and native gloom of temper, might probably be the circum- ftances which originally enflaved his ftrong mind to the terrors of fuperftition I but I am convinced that he alfo fuppofed a connexion to exift between the belief of fupernatural events in general, and thofe on which the evidence of revelation is SPECTRAL APPEARANCES. Q63 founded, and therefore was theoretically as well as practically credulous. This appears from the arguments he frequently employed in fupport of fuch pretended events ; by which we know that he was able to make an impreflion on the minds of fome of his fubmiflive followers, whatever were their effects on his own. One of thefe, in favour of the reality of apparitions of the dead, which he feems to fan&ion by put- ting it in the mouth of the Sage in his Rqffelas, has a popular plaufibility well calculated to give it weight. As it is alfo of a general nature, and applicable to a variety of illufions which have impofed on the credulity of mankind, I think it wor- thy of a particular examination. 11 That the dead are feen no more, faid " Irnlac, I will not undertake to maintain, 41 againft the concurrent and unvaried tef- 41 timony of all ages and nations. There «* is no people, rude or learned, among 41 whom apparitions of the dead are not 4t related and believed. This opinion, 41 which perhaps prevails as far as human <•' nature is diffufed, could become uni- 44 yerfal only by its truth : thofe that ne^ Kk 2 204 LETTER XXV. ot ver heard it of one another, would not " have agreed in a tale which nothing but " experience could make credible." Respecting this argument of the uni- verfality of an opinion, it may be faid, that as there are many truths which it greatly helps to confirm, fo, many errors have at all times taken fhelter under it. The caufe of this diverfity it is of importance to ex- amine. That a great pirt of mankind agree in giving credit to a thing, even though it be^ fomewhat whieh comes under their per- fonal obfervation, will be a very flight ar- gument of its truth, provided there be a manifeft fource of error in the cafe, which is of a nature to operate equally upon all. Thus, the once univerfal and (till common notion, that the earth is ftationary, while the fun and other luminaries move round it, is not in the lead flrengthened by the numbers who adopt it, fince all have formed their belief upon the very fame teftimony, that of their fenfes, which is liable to the fame error in all as in one. The fame may be afferted of the fuppofition of a lupernatural voice fpeaking in thunder ; of lightning being xxxt weapon of an angry SPECTRAL APPEARANCES, $65 Deity ; of the place of future punimment being a dark cavern under ground ; and of various other opinions in which uniform aftbciations of ideas have occafioned uni- form deductions. To apply this princi- ple in the prefent cafe. When mankind, from whatever caufes, had admitted the belief of a ft ate of exiftence continued beyond the prefent life, they mull have endeavoured to form fome conception of the mode of that exiftence. Now, as the hody lay before their eyes, a iifelefs mafs, or was deftroyed by fire, corruption, or other material agents, they muft necefta- rily have had recourfe to fome fubftanceof a rarer and fubtler texture, which eicaping from this grofs and perifhable part, might carry w r ith it fuch imprefted marks and qualities, as would preferve the ftamp of perfonal identity. How metaphyfical fcever this procefs of thinking may ap- pear, it muft actually have been gone through by the rudeft people, if they thought at all on the fubject. Further; that form and figure were capable of being imprefted upon matter of much greater tenuity than their own bodies, they muft: experimentally have known, from the fa^ 266 LETTER XXV* miliar inftances of Jbadows, and the reflex- ion of their image from water or mirrors. In thefe cafes they would plainly perceive, that a fomething, refembling themfelves, might, in fome meafure, Hand apart from their bodies. Thus, I conceive, it almoft neceffarily happened, that all nations formed fimilar ideas of the corporeal attributes of thofe who had palled through death without to- tal extinction of being. It was no longer grofs body in which they were clad : — that, it was manifeft, was left behind. But as, in thinking of the dead, it was impof- fible to abftracl from them fhape, linea- ments, looks, and geftures, thefe proper- ties were annexed to a thin, airy, or fha- dowy body, which, while it might be an object of fight, and perhaps to hearing y was none to the touch, Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum, Ter fruftra comprenfa manus effugit imago, Par levibus ventis, volucrique fimillima fomno. JEx, VI. 700. Then thrice around his neck his arms he threw, And thrice the flitting fhadow flip'd away, e winds, or empty dreams that fiy the da)v Qjlyden, SPECTRAL APPEARANCES.