ARTES
118
SCIENTIA
LIBRARY
VERITAS
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
TUEBOR
STRUERIS PENINAM-AMIZNAM
CIRCUMSPICE

સામે છે.
Whyte, D'amuel
MISCELLANEA NOVÁ,
CONTAINING,
AMIDST A VARIETY OF OTHER MATTERS
CURIOUS AND INTERESTING,
REMARKS ON BOSWELL'S JOHNSON,
WITH CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONS,
AND SOME NEW ANECDOTES OF THAT EXTRAORDINARY
CHARACTER:
A CRITIQUE ON BÜRGER'S LEONORA;
IN WHICH SHE IS CLEARLY PROVED OF ENGLISH
EXTRACTION;
AND AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
ON THE
ARTOF READING AND SPEAKING IN PUBLIC,
BAN
IN TWO PARTS.
BY S. WHYTE, AND HIS SON, E.-A. WHYTE.
DUBLIN:
Printed by Robert Marchbank,
FOR THE EDITOR,
EDWARD-ATHENRY WHYTE, NO. 75, GRAFTÓN-STREET;
OF WHOM IT MAY BE HAD, AND OF THE BOOKSELLERS,
1801.
+
་།
CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME.
PREFACE ... preſents the Reader with preliminary Extracts
from Boſwell.... his pertinaceous affiduity in collecting
materials... Claims to fcrupulous authenticity... fingu-
lar modefty in affimilating his lucubrations to the Odyſſey
alfo his exemplary equanimity, in which he in-
finuates an advantageous comparison between himſelf and
the great Duke of Marlborough, of whom he gives thoſe
morofe cold-blooded mortals, as he is pleafed to ftyle them,
that prefume to diflike his Book, a ftory to apply, &c.
REMARKS ON BOSWELL, &c.
Bofwell returns to London, Anno. 1762, his difappoint-
ment, cauſes and confequences
Johnfon an avowed enemy to Scotland, Scotchmen and
Actors, &c. yet he wrote a Play, and in ſpite of his
prejudice had to thank them for his Penfion
Page
I
2
Firm; in its mercantile acceptation explained
Quotation from Shakeſpear, &c.
Bofwell's own Character fcrutinized and developed
Elegant Compliment to the Author of Sidney Bidulph
Bofwell and John Gilpin, his prototype
Second-fight, a wonderful convenience to petulant Authors
who otherwiſe perhaps might be taxed with obliquity
A conjecture concerning David Hume, and his admired
Archetype Tacitus, who gives an Account of the In-
habitants of the German Ocean, from whom, it may
be prefumed, defcended the " many men, many women,
and many children," who in modern times, as Johnſon
gravely told Dr. Blair," could write the Poems of Offian"
Penfions, an Account of
Quotation from Shakeſpear's Merchant of Venice
ib.
4
5
ib.
9
II
I 2
13
17
20
15
The Author of Swift's Life did not call Bofwell pigmy
Arguing for Victory, an infidious and indefenfible practice 23
Croupier, what
Obfervation on an Irish Act of Parliament, &c.
ib.
25
Davies on the fame fubject from his Life of Garrick
ib.
True
1
CONTENTS.
Page
True Hiftory of the Act for Infolvent Debtors, Anno. 1766,
ſo far as it refpects the fubject in agitation
Extract from the Journals of the Iriſh Houſe of Commons,
fetting forth the fubftance of Mr. Whyte's Petition in
behalf of Mr. Sheridan
Extraordinary Compliment paid Petitioner by the Com
mittee of the Irish Houfe of Commons on the Motion
of Mr. Tottenham
27
ib.
3I
Petitioner's fuccefs and confequent behaviour of Mr.
Sheridan's Creditors
ib.
Letters from Mr. Sheridan, &c. to Mr. Whyte in confe-
quence of his application to Parliament
32
Mr. Sheridan at Blois, finiſhes his Dictionary, &c.
Mrs. Sheridan at Blois writes a Comedy called a Trip to
Bath, two additional Volumes to the Memoirs of Sidney,
and a Tragedy in Profe on part of the fame Story
Mr. Sheridan's Letter from Blois, giving an Account of
Mrs. Sheridan's Death
Sheridan Family, an Account of, &c.
Quotation from Pope
EXTRACTS AND ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS, &c.
Real Hiftory of the Gold Medal given to the Author of
Douglas
Paragraph from Bofwell refpecting Swift and Sheridan
34
ib.
37
38
42
43
47
New Anecdotes of Johnſon. The Stone Poſts, Lady's Shoe,
Helter Skelter, &c.
49
Tu Doces, Infcription on a Tea Cheft
5 I
Offian's Poems, Johnſon's opinion of,
53
Cock-Lane Ghoft, account of, and Johnfon's pretended
detection
ib..
Pocms of Offian, the Rev. Dr. Young's (now Biſhop of
54
Clonfert's) account of
Johnſon's Corporal Proweſs afferted, and illuftrated by a
ludicrous Feat in the Play-houfe at Lichfield
Riot at Smock-alley, called Kelly's Riot, &c. account of 57
55
Johnfon
}
CONTENTS.
Page
60
Johnfon in the capacity of an educator of youth
Sheridan, his academic honours and profeffional confe-
quence, which nevertheleſs failed to procure him that
independence he honeſtly aimed at
Interefting and authentic Sketch of Theatrical Hiſtory,
including a brief account of Barry, Woodward, Moſſop,
Victor, Sowden, Brown, Ryder, and Dawſon, their
fruitleſs ſtruggles through life, unmerited diſtreffes, and
lamentable end
61
67
Reflection on the utility of fuch details, earneftly recom-
mended to the ferious confideration of youth
Particular inferences refpecting Sheridan and Johnſon
75
ib.
Anecdote of Sheridan and Faulkner in the European
Magazine, &c. too haftily adopted
ib.
Notion of independence imbibed from Swift
77
Sheridan's conduct refpecting his creditors.
79
idle notion of his extravagance refuted
80
narrowly eſcapes the fnare laid for him by his
ib.
printer
State of the Irish Stage before he, fatally for himſelf,
affumed the management
81
The application to Parliament in his favour in danger of
being defeated
82
Sheridan arrives in Dublin from France, and having com-
plied with the requifite forms, has it in contemplation
to call a meeting of his creditors.
ib.
A difference of opinion on this point between his Friend
and him occafions a coolnefs of fome continuance
Sheridan not preceptor to the Queen
83
85
Kouli Khan, Angria, Hyder Ali, Dumourier, the
O'Reillys, and the Aurelii
ib.
Coalition between Sheridan and Moffop fuddenly brought
about, and fuddenly diffolved
87
Quotation from Pope
୫୫
ORIGINAL
CONTENTS.
2
Introduction
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
Page
89
୨୦
Letter I, Mrs. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, London, Novem-
ber 11th, 1758
Particulars concerning Richard-Brinfley Sheridan, &c. 91
2. Mrs. Sheridan to Mr.Whyte, London, March 29, 1759 93
Death of Miſs Pennington
3., Mrs. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, Windfor, Sept. 12, 1759 96
Arrival of her Children from Ireland
4. Mrs. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, December 2, 1759
5. Do.
6. Do.
97
Windfor, March 21, 1760 99
London, Feb. 26, 1761 101
English Grammar, Art of Reading, &c. Sidney Bidulph,
Tragedies, Prologue, Epilogue, &c.
7. Mrs. Sheridan to Mr.Whyte, London, Feb. 25, 1762 104
A little Orator for the firſt time brought forward
8. Mrs.Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, London, March 30, 1762 106
-9. Do.
London, May 31, 1762 108
10. Do.
London, Nov. 29, 1762 110
The Diſcovery, a Comedy, extraordinary circumſtances
attending its introduction to the Stage—Mr. She-
ridan's Dictionary, &c. encouraged by a Penfion
from his Majefty, &c.
II. Mrs. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, London, May 12, 1764 113
Ode to Patience . . . Smock-alley in flamcs, &c.
12. Andrew Millar to Mrs. Sheridan, on failure of the
Dupe, with a prefent of a 100 l. Bank Note
13. Mr. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, Chefter, April 30, 1764
14. Do.
15. Do.
-
Richmond, May 12,1764
Edinburgh, Aug. 8, 1764
118
119
ib.
120
16. Do.
17. Do.
18. Do.
19. Do.
Harrow,
Sept. 4, 1764 122
Blois,
Oct. 14, 1764 123
Blois,
Dec. 1, 1764 124
Blois,
May 24, 1765 125
Defcribing an extraordinary complaint with which
he was frequently afflicted
20. Mr. Sheridan to Mr. Whyte, Blois, Aug. 1, 1766
36
21. Do. Account of Mrs. Sheridan's Death, Oct. 13, 1766 37
22. Edmund
1
CONTENTS.
Page
22 Edmund Burton, Efq. Petty-France, Weſtminſter,
June 12, 1785, to Mr.Whyte-reſpecting Mr. Sheridan's
Plan of Education, &c.
Hiſtory of the Academy in King-ftreet, of which the
prefent Lord Chief Baron was the firſt Maſter
THREE LETTERS from a young Lady deceaſed, &c.
23. To Mr. Whyte, Miniken Cottage, Sept. 28, 1771
24. Do.
25. Do.
Conclufion.
128
133
134
135
Charlton, Auguſt 6th,
1773
137
London, December 7th,
1772
149
142
26. Letter from W. Vickers, Efq. Holyhead, May 29,1798 143
27. Mr. Whyte in Anſwer, Dublin, June 6, 1798
EXTRACTS, &c.
Geſta Romanorum, one of the rareft in the catalogues of
rare books, an Account of
144
145
The Hermit (in its original form) from do.
146
The Parable of the Eremite and the Angel, from Dr.
Henry Moore
147
Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, the Polychronicon, &c. 153
William Tell, Wyllyam of Cloudeflé, &c.
154
Story of the Myſterious Mother, according to four dif-
ferent Writers
155
Bürger's Leonora, Obfervations on
161
The Suffolk Miracle, an old English Ballad, manifeftly
the original of Bürger's Leonora
166
Scarron's comical Romance, Deftiny and the Apparition
Arabian Nights, Sinbad and the Old Man of the Sea
172
173
OMISSIONS.
Animal Magnetifm, Obfervations on
Maſquerades not confined to Europe
Muley Moluc and Don Sebaſtian, Story of
Erroneous Quotation by Addiſon, Steele and Sheridan
Gay's John Hewit and Sarah Drew, the original
Thomfon's Celadon and Amelia
Story of the Revenge, a Tragedy, by Dr. Young
175
176
178
181
of
185.
188
On
CONTENTS.
On the Origin of Bürger's Leonora, from the Monthly
Magazine, 1799
Letter, figned J. Francis Cordes, on the fame Subject
A full Ànfwer to J. Francis Cordes and Co.
Page
189
191
192
Letter from Jofeph Cooper Walker, Efq.
216
Story of the Mysterious Mother, from the binth Volume
of the Spectator, &c.
213
Incidental Sketches
The Merchant's Tale
The Recreant Knights, &c, a Ballad
Elegies and other Poems.
ERRATA in the REMARKS on BoswELL'S JOHNSON, &C.
Preface, p. vi. l. 9,
Remarks, p. 1o, note ‡
1
P. II, 1. 5,
P. 16, 1. 8
P. 17, 1. 24,
for Johnfon's are read Johníons are.
Auguft 16th
Prejudice
a way he had
brave Earl
P. 41, l. 12,
in the notes.
£. 1500
Addenda, p. 68, 1. 6,
p. 69, 1. 2,
Letters, p.
9!, 1. 24,
in the note
p: 108, 1. 13,
p. 171, 1. 29,
Leonora, p. 213, 1. laft,
with Ireland
Dorfet
17th, 1757,
May 31st, 1759,
Royal
muft
p. 214, 1. 9,
París
in the note
-
Auguft 14th.
Prefumption.
a way he alſo had.
The Hon Mr. Percy.
£. 3000
in Ireland.
Bedford.
March 17th, 1747:
May 31ſt, 1762.
imperial
muſt have.
of Westminster.
N. B. The Effay on the Art of Reading, having no abfolute connexion with
any other part of this Work, the Book-binder may place before of
after the Remarks, &c or do them up feparately, at the Option of
the purchafer.
PREFACE.
THE REMARKS on MR. BOSWELL'S LIFE OF
DR. JOHNSON were, on their firft publication, an-
nexed as an APPENDIX to the Third Edition of
WHYTE'S POEMS, for which they were originally
drawn up, as referred to in the ſetting out; but, left
it might ſwell the volume to too great a bulk, many
paffages were omitted, which, tho' the form remains
the fame, are in this detached Edition restored, and
a confiderable portion of freſh matter occafionally
introduced. Several´ Original Papers by way of
farther Proof and Illuftration, never before printed,
are alfo given; which, it is imagined, will be a treat
to the curious in literary hiſtory, and deemed, not
improbably by many, the moft interefting part of the
work. The prefent performance, without any pre-
tenfions to rivalſhip, has a chance to be read by
fome who have not feen-Mr. Bofwell's volumes, and
others, who have peruſed them, may not have them
at hand; feveral paffages are therefore cited verbatim,
which might otherwife have been ſpared: the fol-
lowing extract from his preface is likewife given as
a fpecimen of his manner, and as a key to certain
paffages and alluſions in the courſe of the REMARKS,
which, without it, might appear disingenuous or
obfcure.
Thus then Mr. Bofwell afferts his prerogatives,
and denounces the tribe of objectors.
" I, at
laſt, deliver to the world a Work which I have long
•
b
!
promiſed,
iv
PREFACE.
4
promiſed, and of which, I am afraid, too high ex
pectations have been raiſed. The delay of its pub-
lication must be imputed, in a confiderable degree,
to the extraordinary zeal which has been ſhewn by
diftinguiſhed perfons in all quarters to fupply me
with additional information concerning its illuftrious
Subject; refembling in this the grateful tribes of
ancient nations, of which every individual was eager
to throw a ſtone upon the grave of a departed Hero,
and thus to ſhare in the pious office of erecting an
honourable monument to his memory.
"The labour and anxious attention with which I
have collected and arranged the materials of which
theſe volumes are compofed, will hardly be con-
ceived by thoſe who read with careleſs facility. The
ftretch of mind, and prompt affiduity by which fo
many converſations were preſerved, I myſelf, at fome
diſtance of time, contemplate with wonder; and I
muſt be allowed to fuggeft, that the nature of the
work, in other refpects, as it confifts of innumerable
detached particulars, all which, even the moſt minute,
I have ſpared no pains to aſcertain with a ſcrupulous
authenticity, has occafioned a degree of trouble far
beyond that of any other ſpecies of compofition.
Were I to detail the books which I have confulted,
and the inquiries which I have found it neceſſary to
make by various channels, I ſhould probably be thought
ridiculouſly oftentatious. Let me only obferve, as a
fpecimen of my trouble, that I have fometimes been
obliged to run half over London, in order to fix
a date correctly; which, when I had accompliſhed,
I well.
1
PREFA C E.
}
1 well knew, would obtain me no praiſe, though a
failure would have been to my difcredit. And after
all, perhaps, hard as it may be, I ſhall not be ſur-
prized if omiffions or miſtakes be pointed out with
invidious ſeverity. I have alſo been extremely
careful as to the exactneſs of my quotations; hold-
ing, that there is a reſpect due to the Publick which
fhould oblige every Author to attend to this, and
never to prefume to introduce them with - 'I
think I have read,'-or-" If I remember right;'-
when the originals may be examined."
Advertiſement to the firft Edit. p. vii. viii. ix.
Again: "It feems to me, in my moments of felf-
complacency, that this extenfive biographical work,
however inferior in its nature, may in one reſpect
be affimilated to the ODYSSEY. Amidft a thouſand
entertaining and inftructive epiſodes the HERO is
never long out of fight; for they are all in ſome
degree connected with him; and HE in the whole
courſe of the Hiftory is exhibited by the Authour for
the beſt advantage of his readers.
"Should there be any cold-blooded and morofe
mortals who really diſlike this Book, I will give them a
ftory to apply. When the great Duke of Marlbo-
rough, accompanied by Lord Cadogan, was one
day reconnoitering the army in Flanders, a heavy
rain came on, and they both called for their cloaks.
Lord Cadogan's fervant, a good humoured, alert lad,
brought his Lordship's in a minute. The Duke's
fervant, a lazy, fulky dog, was ſo ſluggiſh, that his
Grace, being wet to the fkin, reproved him, and had
}
for
- vi
PREFACE.
for anfwer, with a grunt, I came as faft as I could.'
Upon which the Duke calmly faid, ' Cadogan, I would
not for a thouſand pounds have that fellow's temper."
*
Advertiſement to fecond Edit. p. xv. xvi.
The honour of a Nation greatly depends on its
literary characters; and, befides gratifying curiofity,
it is of ſome importance, that the little which can
generally be collected of their own lives, fhould be
fairly and honeftly reported. It is true, Johnſon's
are rare; and a Bofwell, who could patiently act the
humble fervant, the best part of his life, for the pur-
pofe of furnifhing the memoirs of an author by
profeffion, is a phenomenon in literature; it is a
felicity that all, who have deferved well of the Pub-
lic, are not to expect. Their works will ſpeak for
themſelves, and pofterity will perhaps do juftice to
their merit; in other refpe&ts, they labour under pe-
culiar diſadvantages, and muſt abide the common
fate. National prejudice, private pique, and the
jealoufy of contemporary wits may rudely affail them,
and often, in direct proportion to their merit, they
become objects of calumny and reproach; fuch a
procedure, however common, neither promotes the
interefts of virtue, nor contributes to the happineſs
of fociety. It is the vice of little minds, and a
fcandal to the republic of letters. A great character,
in worthy fituations, is an object of virtuous con-
templation; but that minutenefs of Anecdote, that
oftentatious diſplay of trifics, which we fometimes
meet with, is a vicious indulgence of inquifitive im-
pertinence; a flagrant breach of private confidence,
and
+
PREFACE.
vii
and an infringement of the rules of good breeding.
'Tis like intruding on the facred privacy of beauty
to expoſe her in ungracious fituations. What is the
world wifer or better for being told, that Semiramis
loved a game at romps; that Alexander the Great
had the hiccough; the Czar Peter on his travels took
a pinch of fnuff and fneezed; or that the Author of
the Rambler paired his own nails, or performed any
other of the petty offices common to his kind?*
Such puerilities might anſwer an end in the hands of
honeft Joe Miller, and ferve as decorations to a jeft-`
book; but are a difgrace to the pages of hiſtory,
which fhould exhibit finiſhed portraits of life for in-
ſtruction, not a uſeleſs farago of caricatures.
The retailer of what are called good things treads
on a flippery furface, and fhould do it with judg-
ment and reſerve. Wit, particularly of the colloquial
kind, is a fort of mental electricity, fudden in its
effect, and evanefcent in its nature. Many things
tell well enough in a private circle, where all are
on the gape, prepared for the broad grin, and the
prejudice in your favour; which, abftracted from
local affimilations, cut but a forry figure upon
paper. Witneſs the numerous collections of repar-
tees, and bon mots, from Seutonius's twelve Cæfars,
to Bofwell's Memoirs of Johnfon inclufive. The
ſportive flippances of converſation, the little triumphs
of petulance, or cafual ebullitions of ſpleen, may paſs
for the moment, and, when the laugh is excited, have
fully anſwered their end; but when indulged to the
prejudice
* Vide Addenda, p. 49, (a) New Anecdotes of Johnſon.
}
*
{
1
VIN
L
PREFACE.
prejudice of a deferving member of fociety, and
obtruded as hiftorical defignations of character, they
fhew a pitiful ambition in the fool that uſes them,
and, except to expoſe him, are unworthy of record.
To apply Mr. Bofwell's own ftory-" I would not
for a thousand pounds have that fellow's temper."
The
Whether Mr. Bofwell comes properly within this
defcription, every reader will determine for himſelf;
but fuch were the reflections which occurred to the
writer of thefe pages on perufal of that elaborate
production. Of the very many eminent characters
mentioned in the courfe of thofe volumes, there is.
fcarcely one, but firſt or laſt, is preſented in a diſad-
vantageous light, and marked with fome comparative
draw-back, as a foil to heighten and ſet off the con-
fequence of his illuftrious friend. It was an unne-
ceffary proftitution of applaufe; Dr. Johnſon was
fufficient in himfelf; admitting the facts, there
would have been a merit in retrenchment.
ſhades of his own character, if not wholly concealed,
might have been foftened, and thrown into the back-
ground, without injury to any; his weakneffes could
not be improved by compariſons, and his excellencies
ftood in no need of fuch invidious fupport. De
mortuis nihil nifi bonum, fays the adage; Dr. Johnſon's
reading, De mortuis nihil nifi verum, is not clearly an
amendment; bonum implies verum. Biographers
are not upon their oath, and if in nothing but the
truth is to be underſtood the whole truth, it involves
an impoffibility; for the truth in toto can never be
obtained;
PREFAC E..
}
obtained; and after all, if the whole truth were within
compaſs, a great part would be nugatory and ridi-
culous; the ſtraining after which is but a vain pro-
digality of time, and an affected parade of impar-
tiality to no end. We have proofs and precedents
enow conftantly before us, and need no monitor to
fhew what little things are great men.
Mr. Bofwell's Life of Johnfon derives importance
from the ſubject, and has been generally read; on the
fame account it will find its way into the repofitories
of learning. We envy not his honours, and only
wiſh he had pruned away certain morbid excreſcencies,
and, with a little more circumfpection, made choice
of his ground; it would have been more of a piece
with his pompous declarations, and precluded the
neceffity of an antidote, confequently the preſent
attempt.
The writer of thefe fheets is confcious he has need
of many apologies; but his intentions are pure; he
feeks not to tear the well-earned laurels from the
brows of any man; it would be an idle conceit,
equally illiberal and abfurd. His only aim is
to fet in a proper point of view, and do juſtice
to, what he conceives, an injured character the
character of a good man, which he cannot fuppofe
in any light to be properly a fubject of obloquy or
contempt. He for a time hoped he ſhould have been
fpared the friendly office, and has to regret it was
not taken up by abler hands.
PREPARING FOR THE PRESS,
A NEW EDITION
OF
POE
'ON
M
S
VARIOUS SUBJECT S,
ORNAMENTED WITH PLATES,
*
AND ILLUSTRATED WITH
NOTES, ORIGINAL LETTERS, AND CURIOUS
INCIDENTAL ANECDOTES.
IN THE COURSE OF WHICH,
THE PRETENDED MIRACLES OF VESPASIAN ARE
EXAMINED AND DETECTED.
BY SAMUEL WHYT E.
THE FOURTH EDITION,
CAREFULLY COLLATED WITH THE AUTHOR'S LAST IMPROVED
MANUSCRIPT,
BY EDWARD-ATHENRY WHYTE, F. C. T. C. D.
REMARKS
ON
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
1
DAMNS WITH FAINT PRAISE.
POPE.
UPON a careful revifal of the preceding ſheets, previous to
publication, the Editor was led by fome circumſtances occafi-
onally mentioned to confult Bofwell's Life of Dr. Johnſon,*
particularly the paffages refpecting the late Mr. Sheridan;
and could not help obferving, that an unprejudiced Reader,
judging of its accuracy and impartiality from thoſe ſpecimens
which are pretty copious, would hardly be inclined to think
very advantageoufly of that multifarious production. Facts,
where facts are reforted to, glaringly perverted; commenda-
tion fneakingly and invidiouſly beſtowed; ill-natured ſtrictures
unneceffarily, as they are on moft occafions unwarrantably, in-
troduced; and frequent contradictions, as to Mr. Sheridan, are
its predominant characteriſticks. Our Author has in one
ftriking inſtance taken the taſk of refcuing his Friend's repu-
tation from wanton and unmerited obloquy upon himſelf.† And
the Editor, with deference prefumes, that the moſt fanguine
of the Doctor's and his Biographer's admirers will not be dif-
pleaſed, upon the principles of equity to the living as well as
the dead, to ſee a curfory inveſtigation of the reſt impartially
attempted. Some may think it a ſubject of little importance;
the lovers of truth and literature may poffibly entertain a dif-
ferent opinion. The lovers of literature will think that the
annals
B
Or rather Bofwell's own life under the umbrage of Johnſon's. .
3 vols. 8vo. 2d edit. London, 1793.Vol. i. p. 341, paflim.The firſt
edit. which bears date April 20, Anno 1791, was in quarto.
+ See the real History of the Gold Medal given to the Author of the
Tragedy of Douglas, WHYTE'S POEMS published by the Author, (in the
EXTARCTS inferted for convenience, at the end of the work) page lxvi.
likewife p. lv. ibid.
2
REMARKS ON
annals of literature ſhould be preſerved pure; and what was
an object in the Life of Johnſon,—or why elſe introduced?-
cannot be indifferent to the admirers of candour and truth,
Boſwell ſays,*" when I returned to London in the year 1762,
to my ſurpriſe and regret, I found an irreconcileable difference
had taken place between Johnfon and Sheridan. A penfion
of two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan.
Johnſon, who thought flightingly of Sheridan's Art, upon
hearing that He was alfo penfioned, exclaimed, "What! have
they given HIм a penſion? then it is time to give up mine.".
Sheridan might have retorted in the language of Jaffier, 'tis to
me you owe it.-Bofwell attempts to palliate, though not wholly
to juſtify, that unprovoked fally; and, leaving his readers un-
der whatever impreffion to their reflections, after an unnecef-
fary detail of extraneous circumftances, at the end of two
pages he tells us-" Johnſon complained that a man who dif-
liked him, repeated this farcaſm to Sheridan, without telling
him what followed, which was, that after a pauſe he added,"
However, I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a penfion,
"Sheridan," continues Bofwell,
for he is a very good man.
>
could never forgive this hafty contemptuous expreffion; it
rankled in his mind; and though I informed him what Johnſon
had faid, and that he would be very glad to meet him ami-
cably, he pofitively declined repeated offers which I made,
and once went off abruptly from a houfe where he and I were
engaged
See Bofwell, vol. i p. 343, 4. Johnſon was the avowed enemy of
Scotland and Scotchmen, and no friend to the Stage; yet he wrote a play,
and whimſical to think," the eafe and independance to which he at laſt
attained by Royal munificence,'' [p. 447,] he owed, it feems, to Scotch
Actors, who played for his Benefit, under the Management of an Irish
Prompter; for Lord Loughborough himſelf acknowleges, rather fuper-
cilioufy, "Sheridan rang the beil:" and, to carry on the metaphors
when the performance was over, the panegyrift of Auchinleck comes in
for his fhare with the life of Johnfon, in three ponderous quartos, by
way of Epilogue.--The first edition is in this inftance referred to.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
•
·
•
• •
CC
Mr. Bofwell was
and look ye, Sirs! he
engaged to dine, becauſe he was told that Dr. Johnſon was
to be there* .. I could perceive that Mr. Sheridan was by
no means ſatisfied with Johnſon's acknowleging him to be a
good man. That could not footh his injured vanity. I could
not but ſmile, at the fame time that I was offended, to obferve,
Sheridan, in the Life of Swift which he afterwards publiſhed,
attempting, in the writhings of his refentment, to depreciate
Johnſon, by characterizing him, as, a Writer of gigantic
fame in theſe days of little men."
offended! poor Gentleman!
was tickled withal, and he ſmiled! or peradventure in
the writhings of bis Refentment, more appofitely to give it, in
the pictureſque Language of Milton, he grinned horrible
a ghaftly ſmile.' But in the event of this antithetical crifis,
ftill true to his text, not an iota eſcapes him of Sheridan's
Provocations. Had Meffrs. Bofwell and Co. an exclufive
patent for offence? . . . Dr. Johnſon had previouſly attacked
Sheridan's friend Swift, and in the moody ſpirit of detraction
he contemptuouſly treats him as a writer; he reprobates him
as a man, and, in order to level him with the loweſt of the
fpecies, he brands that very Swift, a Clergyman, a Dignitary
of his own Church, the Dean of St. Patrick's, with folly in
the extreme; prevarication, which is lying of the worst kind,
and cowardice. Thef: are the odious ſtigmas which Dr. John-
fon avowedly labours to attach to the character of an emi-
nent Divine; for his abilities looked up to by the Great, and
for his unexampled charity and conduct in his paftoral calling,
by the lower orders of the community, where his memory
is yet held in reverence, almoſt adored. What writer but
the encomiaft of Savage could dirty his pages with fuch foul-
mouthed afperfions? Swift perhaps had his particularities;
but was Dr. Johnſon the man to throw the firſt ſtone? He
perhaps
* This vexatious Dinner-Party is' brought again upon the tapis,
vol. iii. p. 594-
+ See Johnſon's Poets and Sheridan's Swift, p. 449, &C.
4
REMARKS ON
perhaps was remifs in his court to the Doctor's arrogated
fuperiority; he perhaps might afpire to equality, and equa-
lity in the vocabulary of vanity implies rivalſhip. The
world cannot contain two Suns. What, Swift! the Vicar
of Laracor! was HE a Sun? Nay, Sir! that was enough,
more than enough to roufe the conſtitutional indolence of
Johnſon,' to feize every opportunity of unfphering him.
His common expreffion in talking of him was, "That Swift
was a very fhallow fellow." Could any ordinary acquaint-
ance, much leſs a friend, endeared to him from infancy and
bound to him by unremitting offices of kindneſs, ſtand by
and tacitly authorize fuch malevolent calumnies by paffing
them unnoticed? Sheridan could not, and for that he is tra-
duced! The Rambler, a valuable periodical paper, contains
many fplendid declamations on morality, and the author, under
that deſcription, his Biographer holds forth as the Mirrour of
Truth; but another writer, who was no flave to prejudice,
and in his own perfon little prone to the thundering
tongue of faucy and audacious eloquence,' has left a few un-
varniſhed lines, that fhew him not unverfed in the ſcience of
life, by which that profound mafter of Ethics, without dif-
paragement to his talents or blemiſh to his memory, might
have profited; and his lectures would not have been the worſe
attended to. Bofwell was poffibly too much engroffed in his
lucubrations, recollecting and minuting down the day's event-
ful hiſtory, to read fuch flimfy rhapfodies as Othello, or
poffibly never ſoberly conſidered, except when the Firm† were
to come in for fnacks, that
Good
See Bofwell, 2d edit. as before, vol. i. pp. 108, 416, 522, vol. ii. p. 103,
and vol. iii. p. 310, where Sheridan's opinion of Johnſon's implacable
refentment againſt Swift is also noticed; and I have myſelf often
heard the cauſe fo affigned, afferted as an eſtabliſhed truth.
↑ Firm.... a Term in commercial uſage, implying the oftenfible head,
proprietor or proprietors of banks, and mercantile houſes, who fometimes
}
find
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
5
Good name in man and woman
Is the immediate jewel of their fouls.
Who ſteals my purſe, ſteals trash; 'tis fomething, nothing;
'Twas mine; 'tis his, and has been flave to thouſands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
SHAKESP.
But the traducing of Sheridan was not the only object.
Mr. Bofwell had other irons in the embers, and we ſhall
preſently fee more is meant than meets the ear.
His own
character, a little more attentively fcrutinized, may help us to
develop the myſtery; let us decypher it. Pope, who had
alfo fome knowlege of mankind, affords us a criterion :
Search then the ruling paffion; there alone
The wild are conſtant and the cunning known;
That clue once found unravels all the reft,
The profpect clears and Wharton ftands confefs'd, &c.
For, Wharton read Bofwell; his ruling paffion was the luſt of
a niche
among the literati. Without entering into a particular
examen of his pretenfions, he was calculated to move in a
ſecondary orbit and wanted confpicuity. From his youth up
he was troubled with an incurable and dangerous malady;
by profeffor Juvenal, an acknowleged adept, termed Cacoëthes
Scribendi. Being of a communicative turn; redundantly lo-
quacious and a confirmed egotiſt, the minutiae of anecdote and
biographic detail, requiring no extraordinary degree of inven-
tion, and depending more on memory than genius, fuited his
talents;
find it good policy to admit a nominal partner to a ſmall dividend on
the profits, without any acceffion to the capital, which ſo circumſtanced
ftands in the name of the Firm, as it might be Johnfon and Co. . . . The
word in this acceptation is not in our copy of the Dictionary.
*
• •
• • ·
Tenet infanabile multos
Scribendi cacoëthes, et ægro in corde fenefcit.
The curfe of writing is an endleſs itch.
Juv. Sat. vii. v. 53.
DRYDEN.
6
REMARKS ON
11
talents; and fo intoxicated was he with the vanity of ranking
as an author, that ere the tonfor had well cleared the down
from his new-reaped chin* he tore himſelf from his mother's
apron ftrings, and made a journey of fome hundreds of leagues
by land and by water in queft of a fubject. Such was his
diffidence, and the diftruft he entertained of his powers!
A defect, which ſome hereditary ſtrength of nerves, and a little
experience in life, enabled him to get the better of; as by
the tenour of his writings is demonſtrated..... We do not per
ceive any very uncommon marks of originality in his exuberant
and ponderous journals to entitle him to the envied diſtinction
he aimed at ; but the lucky choice of a fubject is of the firſt im-
portance to an author, and fo far we believe him in the fecret.
In the way of attraction the celebrity of the fubject is not
unfrequently as much looked to as the merits of the perform-
ance, of which all readers cannot be fuppofed competent
judges. For inftance, not to degrade our Biographer by com-
parifon, Homer is perhaps as much indebted to Troy as Troy
is to Homer, who, as well as Mr. Bofwell, as the criticks
will have it, fometimes nods. However, without any
temptation of friendship to praife or to abuſe him, we muſt
give our author (as he now ranks) credit for his journey.
The complexion of affairs abroad was inviting; Corfica was
ftruggling for her liberties under the aufpices of her brave
patriotic General, a fecond Cato! The world had all its eyes
on Paoli; his life was a defideratum; Mr. Bofwell was on
the fpot; by Mr. Bofwell it was written, and, till curiofity
fell aſleep, undeniably it was read: Fame and profit went
hand
* Quo tondente gravis juveni mihi barba ſonabat.
Juv. Sat. i. v. 25, & Sat. x. v. 226.
The appplication is not unfounded: vide Preface to Johnſon's Life,
p. xv.
Be not aſtoniſhed, gentle Reader! There may you fee the ingeni
ous Author of that extenſive Biographical Work, in his moments of ſelf-
complacency, by affimilation, claiming kindred with the venerable Ancient.
If haply fome future Pope ſhould do it into Verse, our master of Affleck
[as the name is pronounced] will have both rhyme and reafon to be vain.
}
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
1
hand in hand; an enviable denouement for a first attempt;
and a flattering earneſt of future fuccefs.
The
His next ſpeculation lay nearer home, and London was the
ſcene of operation; an ample field for enterprize, and a foil
not ungenial to oddities. He had tried his powers, and
now was the time to improve upon his Syftem. By lucky
conſtruction, Nofcitur a Sociis, was an adage in his favour. He
frequented the focieties of wits, and enlifted, as was his
bent, in the train of fingular characters; none more fingular
than the extraordinary man, to whom at laſt he contrived
to get himſelf introduced, for the purpoſe of fhewing him
off in all his attitudes, and gratifying the world with his
Memoirs; in every point of view a heavy and laborious taſk ;
but what will not a man do to be for ever known?*
patriarch Jacob, not irreverently to speak, ferved Laban
two apprenticeſhips for a wife; our obfequious Biographer
ferved Dr. Johnſon three, a more imperious flave-driver,
for a feather. Now, the prospect clears and Bofwell Stands
confefs'd. He had to wriggle himſelf into the good graces
of Johnfon; to accumulate matter and to make a Book; to
enfure notoriety and pocket the emolument. Freedom of
opinion and liberty of ſpeech; the obligations of friendſhip
and the ties of kindred muſt give way; even his dear coun-
try falls a facrifice to the caprice and prejudices of his
Idol. Mr. Boſwell, with his ufual addrefs, anticipates the
charge,
†
See Cowley's Works-the Sentiment is his.
In the Summer of 1761, Mr. Bofwell tells us Mr. Sheridan read
Lectures on the English Language, &c. in Edinburgh, at which time his
acquaintance with him commenced; and his acquaintance with Dr.
Johnſon, Anno. 1763. See vol. i. p. 343. Thus fpeaks he for himfelf.
"This is to me a memorable year; for in it I had the happineſs to ob-
tain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whofe memoirs I am
now writing: an acquaintance which I fhall ever efteem as one of the
moſt fortunate circumftances of my life."N. B. His Work had been
anticipated by three or four competent Biographers, whom, in his way,
ne very cordially befpatters.
7
8
REMARKS ON
charge, and affects to defpife the imputation.* But, maugre
all his fineffes, if Mr. Bofwell, at the fhrine of the venerated
fage, did not bewray his own neft, no two-legged animal,
fince Adam to fave appearances ufed the fig-leaf, ever did.
Cedite Romani fcriptores, cedite Graii. Mr. Bofwell full of
the infpiring god, and proftrate at the feet of his divinity,
uncorks the incenfe-vafe of adulation;t himſelf the high prieft
officiates at the altar of his own rearing; and, it is a rule
without an exception, all things, animate and inanimate, muſt
bow down to Baal. Sheridan, who never abuſed Scotland,
and had confeffedly rendered him many acceptable kind-
neffes, was the first victim. A miſunderſtanding fubfiſt-
ed between Johnfon and Sheridan; it could not be kept a
fecret; Bofwell perceived it, and like a keen-eyed politician
takes advantage of the hint. To fay nothing of the private
ufes he made of it in paying his devoirs tete-a-tete, the
paffage before us is a mafter-stroke in its way; every thing
that might bear hard upon Johnſon is extenuated; every
thing that could make againſt Sheridan is preffed forward
and dilated; not fatisfied with an orderly and connected ſtate-
ment of facts, which is the great merit of a hiſtorian, like
a true partizan, he beats abroad for matter, and in defiance
of all chronological arrangement, to which in other cafes
he faftidiouſly confines his narrative, he foreftalls the fuc-
ceffion of events; reforts to widely diftant periods, and
dwells on topics wholly irrelative to the affair in hand; an
artful manoeuvre to conceal his real views, by which
thoſe who read with carelefs facility,' a numerous clafs,
are impofed on. The attention is called off, and diverted
to new objects, and the original cauſe of difference, embar-
raffed with foreign circumſtances, is thrown into ſhade and
loft fight of. Thus craftily fhifting his ground, the odium
of commencing hoftilities is transferred to Sheridan, and by
a ftudied
*See Bofwell as before, vol. i. p. 350 paffim.
Incenje-vaje of adulation, alias his Ink-horn.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
୨
a ſtudied latitude of phrafeology an infinuation is conveyed,
that he, Boſwell the ſmiler, had actually feen in manufcript
the obnoxious paragraph referred to in Sheridan's Life of
Swift, which, as he ſays, was afterwards publiſhed; mean-
ing, as he would have it underſtood, at a very fhort inter-
val; though not a line of it was then, or for full twenty
years afterwards, committed to paper. By this curious
pretext a prejudice is created in favour of his maligner, con-
ſequently operating to the diſadvantage of the character in-
jured, whenever his name occurs, which is by no means fel-
dom, in the remainder of that and the two fucceeding
volumes. Having thus fettled the preliminaries and adjuſted
matters to his fatisfaction, in the overflowings of ſelf-com-
placency our Biographer, to take it as before on his own
report, ſmiled, and incontinently proceeds-
"This rupture with Sheridan deprived Johnſon of one
of his moſt agreeable refources for amufement in his lonely
evenings; for Sheridan's well-informed, animated, and buft-
ling mind never fuffered converfation to ftagnate; and Mrs.
Sheridan was a moft agreeable companion to an intellectual
man. She was fenfible, ingenious, unaffuming, yet com-
municative. I recollect, with fatisfaction, many pleafing
hours which I paffed with her, under the hoſpitable roof
of her huſband, who was to me a very kind friend." *
Mr. Boſwell, for the purpoſe of quitting fcores with his
C
very
* The remaining part of the paragraph muft not be omitted.....
"Her Novel, entitled MEMOIRS OF MISS SIDNEY BIDDULPH, con-
tains an excellent moral, while it inculcates a future ftate of retri-
«bution, and what it teaches is impreſſed upon the mind by a ſeries
"of as deep diftrefs as can affect humanity, in the amiable and pious
"Heroine, who goes to her grave unrelieved, but refigned, and full
"of hope of Heaven's mercy.-Johnſon paid her the higheſt compliment
"upon it: I know not, Madam! that you have a right, upon moral
"principles, to make your Readers suffer so muck," Boſwell's Johnſon,
vol. i. p. 353, 4.
10
REMARKS ON
very kind friend, has him again in the fame volume thus
"Talking of a barriſter who had a bad utterance, fome
one, to roufe Johnſon, wickedly ſaid, that he was unfor-
"tunate in not having been taught oratory by Sheridan;'
and then commits him to the laceration of Johnſon and
Garrick, which he gloffes with the fubfequent defence:
"Ifhould perhaps have fuppreffed this difquifition con-
cerning a perſon of whofe merit and worth I think with
reſpect, had he not attacked Johnfon fo outrageously in his
Life of Swift, and at the fame time, treated us, his ad-
mirers, as a ſet of pigmies. He who has provoked the laſh
of wit, cannot complain that he ſmarts from it."+
•
Alas, poor Yorick! 'tis true he could not complain; for
he was fleeping in peace with his fathers before thoſe notable
animadverfions faw the light . Let us now fairly examine
the premiſes. ... Ecce iterum Crifpinus! ... Sheridan's Life
of Swift again prematurely preffed into the fervice! . . . Is
not this fomething like writhing? feveral years back,
according to the manifeftation of events, he had us upon the
fame ground; he confeffed himſelf offended; but he rode his
hobby in a pretty decent ambling pace, and ſmiled. But
behold, when we thought the bufinefs quite over and for-
gotten, he takes us at a ſhort turn, and we find him mounted
again.... No offence I hope; yes, by St. Patrick (an Irish
oath) but there is, and much offence too;
That trot became a gallop foon
Which gall'd him in his feat.
*Johnson, in reply.
•
•
He
"Nay, Sir! if he had been taught by
"Sheridan, he would have cleared the room.”
Vol. i. p. 543* + Ibid.
Sheridan died at Margate in Kent, Auguft the 16th, 1788..
Bofwell's book did not appear till about three years after, as we
may collect from the date of his dedication, April 20th 1791, which
was full ſeven years fubfequent to Sheridan's Life of Swift, first pub-
lished in 1784.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
II
•
•
He winces, gentle reader! you fee he winces! do but
obſerve his contortions! John Gilpin, fir! was a ſtoick to
him-Softly, foftly, good Mr. Bofwell! tho' anxious enough
to conceal your chagrin, you veritably take the matter too hei-
noufly. Vanity and prejudice apart, what might Poſterity ſay
to your ftrictures? they might ſay, here is a ſtrong daſh-
of prejudice, malevolence, crimination and abuſe. But
where is the wit? We have Mr. Bofwell's word for it,
and that is conclufive; for what obferver of lefs confum-
mate fagacity could have made the diſcovery? and what
fcholiaft of lefs confummate acumen could have conceived, in
that fame luminous fally, any reference to a work, which
was then a nonentity in the archives of literature? What
a lofs to the nation in theſe perilous times HE was not
Prime Miniſter! . . . Seriouſly, the lafh, is a ſmart meta-
phorical conceit, though in our humble apprehenſion ſome-
what awkwardly and ambiguouſly brought in. ... The
lash! ay the lafh of wit; indeed, as one may fay, a very
pretty figure; in very admirable hands, and very cavalierly
exerciſed; exerciſed by the faid Mr. Bofwell! Does the faid
Mr. Bofwell apply it as a principal, or merely as a proxy?
faving his modefty we rather think the latter; be that as
it may, Sheridan, the reprobrated writer of Swift's Life, was
not the aggreffor; and fuppofing him amenable, the cor-
rection, as before hinted, for we are compelled to reiterate,
was inflicted by anticipation. The provocation alledged was
not even in embrio. The effect cannot precede its caufe,
and, at the date of the converfation referred to, his employers,
the bookfellers, had not even fuggefted to Johnſon the ex-
pediency of the Lives of the Poets containing his libel upon
Swift, which Sheridan in the courſe of his fubfequent ac-'
count of his friend and godfather incidentally takes up.
•
The
ૐ
12
REMARKS ON
The occafion offered; it was not fought. But what of that,
the great fubject of the memoirs, Mr. Boſwell was then
writing, is the momentous confideration, and at all events
muſt be ſupported; it behoved no lefs the wren on the
eagle's wing to have an eye to his own fituation. Under
fuch impreffions, it is not to be wondered at, that every
nice offence of Sheridan's is exaggerated; fet in a note-
book, learned and conned by rote to caft into his teeth;
while the grofs fcurrilities of the man who daily enjoyed
fo many hours of needful amuſement under his hofpitable
roof are felected for admiration, and exhibited with eclat.
Fortunately ours is the age of reafon; the volume of nature,
in legible characters lies open to inſpection, where all men,
no doubt equally competent, are readers. Hypothefes are
framed, and to fhew their proficiency, or haply to eſcape
the laſh of wit, every abfurdity has its advocate. Johnſon,
and his fatellite, Bofwell, are arraigned; if any man fhould
cavil at our defence of the illuftrious pair, we deprecate his
cenfure, and plead preſcription and the faſhion of the times.
In the affair under confideration, though neither the
juftice or candour of the parties be confpicuous, on the
principles of our new philofophy, the literary defpot may
be cleared of imputation, and the fuppofed anachroniſms
of his biographer may be reconciled. . . . . Dr. Johnſon
paid a vifit to the Highlands, an incident that cannot be
indifferent to our brethren of the North; there, as we may
well prefume, in the manner of one of our modern illuminati,
or more opportunely from his trufty Achates, his humble
attendant,' as he modcftly ftyles himſelf, who was native
there, the fage acquired the myſterious faculty of SECOND
SIGHT,
*The difquifition concerning Sheridan, vindictively brought forward by
Bofwell, he dates Ann. 1769. Johnſon's Critique on the Life and Writings
of Swift, in his Account of the Poets, first appeared in 1779.
Sheridan's Account of Swift not 'till 1784 See the Work, p. 449, &c.
•
1
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
13
>
SIGHT * and looking into the feeds of time, faw himſelf in a
book to be written fome fifteen or twenty years to come,
yclepeda writer of gigantic fame.' This, on the incontcf-
tible authority of a grave hiftorian, an eye witneſs of the
fact, who, as we may well prefume, had no temptation to
lying, his patron being dead and unable to pay for it; the
hiftorian himſelf remarkable for the fame rare faculty
of prefcience, and fo free from any partiality to Johnſon,
that he has even been accuſed of drawing him into very un-
favourable fituations, for the important end of fwelling his
Diary; this characteristic expreffion, a writer of gigantic
fame,' I fay on the authority aforefaid, was an outrage-
ous and unpardonable attack, which it was incumbent on
a genius of the fage's athletic importance to repel. Cor-
poreal notice, as meditated against the reprobated tranf-
lator of Offian, might induce unfavourable conftructions, and
be attended with difagreeable confequences; poffibly incon-
venient withal. In the inftant of deliberation things fuddenly
took a new turn; Minerva, in the fhape of the mafter
of Auchenleck, claps my philofopher on the back, and fug-
gefts a fure and fafer expedient, which was, in the faſhionable ·
phrafe of modern heroilm,§ to referve his fire and pay the
fatirical
* SECOND SIGHT. See Boſwell, vol. i. p. 472, vol. ii. pp. 5, 203.
+ Some faftidious commentator, verſed in obfolete lore, fifteen or twenty
centuries hence, may be tempted to affert, that in this paffage our
author had his eye on that impartial writer David Hume, who in fuch
wife characterizes his admired fellow-labourer, Tacitus. The fame Tacitus
who announceth certain native burghers in the German Sea; "many men,
many women, and many children," fuch, as 'twas averred, could
write the Poems of Offian, that hugely difmayed the Roman cohorts:
He also telleth of certain northern tribes wont to hear the hiffing of
the waves when the Sun gets out of bed in a morning, and, on leading
his nags from the ftable, make a leg and with him a good journey !!!!
+ Boſwell, vol. ii. p. 17 1. See this hint taken up and fomewhat eluci
dated in the Appendix hereto ſubjoined. No. I.
Duelling, here alluded to, is a weed of the feudal ages; the fpu-
rious offspring of chivalry, and utterly unknown in the times when
Minerva was in repute.
14
REMARKS ON
fatirical knave in his own coin. He accedes to the admo-
nition of the goddefs, and in terrorem leaves in the hands
of his ingenious biographer, a fquib'; to be kept in petto
till the feafon meet for wreaking his revenge.
On this prefumption, fo agreeable to reafon and truth, the
affair is naturally accounted for, and the Doctor clearly
exculpated; nor can any juft exception poffibly lie to the
pofition, fave that in fome refpects it impugns the notion
of co-partnerſhip, and tends to defpoil Mr. Bofwell of the
prerogative of wit. However to accommodate matters the
beſt we can, as the gentleman, it is by this time pretty
well underſtood, is no enemy to celebrity at ſecond hand,
the lafh, we admit, is of his own manufacture, and without
fraud or conteft decidedly his due; yet ftill a doubt remains
that he never would have thought of it, if Johnſon had not
lent him a fpur.
The wit, a precious Morceau! which fo forcibly marks
his hero's penetration, magnanimity, and liberality of mind,
that faithful hiftorian confeffes he would have fup-
preffed, but that Sheridan, naughty man! called him pigmy;
and, after ſeven years dreaming on the atrocious ſcroll,
like the fretful porcupine, he briftles up his poifoned quills
againſt the perfon whofe worth and merit he affects to
think of with respect, and darts them at his ſhroud. Pity!
that in the paroxyfm of his fury he overshot the mark,
and back the devilish engine recoils upon himſelf. The
hour of attack approaches; he appeals to the high tri-
bunal of the public; his plea is over-ruled; there is a ſmall
flaw in the indictment; the action will not lie; culprit did
not attack the illuftrious fage; the illuftrious fage was the
affailant; Sheridan only traverſed the record and took up
the gauntlet for his friend Swift, when his friend's mouth
was
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
IS
*
1
was ſtopped and could not do juftice to himſelf. Culprit
did not call Mr. Bofwell pigmy; pigmy is not in the fcroll;
the paffages we have collated, and however fuitable the
term, the adoption of it is his own. Sheridan makes no
invidious comparifons: fingles out no particular object;
but in the way of contraft by corporal allufion, fpeaking of
the junto, contents himfelf with faying
Little Men"....
Qui capit ille facit . . . fure Mr. Bofwell is not a little writer;
why of all mankind ſhould he take it to himſelf? and why at
that particular juncture fhould it gall him? Now, on the fub-
ject of Swift, compare Johnfon and Sheridan, and ſay to
whom juſtly appertains the epithet outrageous.*
The difquifition mentioned took place, if bona fide it did
take place, in 1769. Sheridan's Life of Swift did not appear
till 1784, which was the firſt and only inſtance of his writh-
ing, if writhing Mr. Bofwell will have it; but, from what
has been proved, it is pretty plain others were writhing
with a vengeance in the interim, and even long antecedent
to that period betrayed fymptoms notorioufly fufpicious.
Johnſon, ftruck the firſt blow, and purſued it with unre-
lenting acrimony, rouſed on every frivolous occafion, wickedly
fuggeſted, as the text intimates, for the fpace of thirty
years. What were his motives?
dare we fay lite-
rary envy? Jealoufy of a Brother's Fame? a weakneſs, ad-
mitting all his merits, of which that great man flands ac-
cufed. Both were engaged in the fame arduous taſk, though
in ſomewhat a different line, the cultivation and improve-
ment of the English Tongue. Johnſon was not an orator,
and had but little intercourſe with the graces; therefore thought
flightingly
..
* Boſwell, [Friday March 2.4, An. 1775] in his uſual way, tells the world
"Johnſon was in high fpirits this evening at the club, and talked with
great animation and fuccefs. He attacked Swift, as he ufed to do upon all
occafions."Vol. ii. p. 203,-fee the feveral accounts before adverted to.
}
16
REMARKS ON
T
lightingly of Sheridan's Art. Sheridan had acquired a high
reputation, and was much fought after, as an adept in the
inftitution of youth; a department in which, however kept
a fecret, Dr. Johnfon had been tried and found wanting.*
Nay poffibly, very poffibly, for Sheridan was no fycophant,
and had a touch of his own condition, the Good Man might
refuſe ſubſcription to the Great Man's dogmatic opinions,
and prefuming to think for himſelf, a way he had, diſputed
the Doctor's infallibility. Theſe are not infifted upon as
matters of importance; but it was known Sheridan had in
contemplation an ENGLISH DICTIONARY, and the eſtabliſh-
ment of a NATIONAL ACADEMY upon the fame principle,
for which he was at the time foliciting patronage. That
was an unequivocal avowal, and, in Johnſon's imagination,
an encroachment on his dictatorial confequence, which, con-
nected with the reft, though they purfued very different
routes, rankled in his mind, I thank thee, Bofwell! for
teaching me that word,' and manifeftly gave offence; for
in the Preface to his Dictionary, fo early as the year 1755,
Johnfon fteps out of his way, and even makes a tempo-
rary facrifice of his political principles to have a wipe at
Sheridan. Sheridan, more juft to Johnſon's literary repu-
tation, overlooked the inuendo; cultivated his acquaintance,
and had him at his table a conftant gueſt. In the year
1762, Sheridan's ſcheme for a new Engliſh Dictionary was
publifhed.
That memorable year he was nominated for
a penſion, and, no way envious of his friend's celebrity, he
feized the favourable opportunity; fuggefted the propriety
of a proviſion for Johnfen, and was the first who communi-
cated to him the Royal Intention.§ The return Dr. Johnfon
made
* Found wanting.-See this topic farther illuſtrated in the Appendix No.2,
+ See Bofwell's Johníon, vol. i. p. 349... § Ibid. pp. 343, 4.
;
}
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
17
made him, and fome part of Mr. Bofwell's ingenious com-
mentary, we have already feen; but for a more explicit
detail we refer to the work itſelf.
In the interim, as we are on the fubject of penſions, it may
not be improper to add a few words by way of elucida-
tion, in which we fhall endeavour to follow our elaborate
precurfor, haud paffibus æquis, who, notwithſtanding the mighty
pother he makes to perfuade us of the pains he has been at
in procuring the moſt authentic teftimony, has not been
altogether exact. He has indeed been minutely circumftan-
tial in what relates to Dr. Johnfon; in what relates to
Sheridan he appears not fo feduloufly inquifitive. Mr. She-
ridan's penfion was granted to him, as that writer correctly
fays, not as a player;' nor, as he incorrectly ſtates, as a
fufferer in the cauſe of government.' He was in that reſpect
at leaſt on a footing with Johnfon. The penfion was granted
to Sheridan, without folicitation, as the reward of his lite-
rary merit.'* Beſides, Mr. Bofwell ſhould have recollected,
that Sheridan was not only taken by the hand and encouraged
to proceed in his Scheme of Education and his Dictionary,
by his countryman, the Earl of Bute, who was then Prime
Minifter; but that on the fame account he was recommended
to his Sovereign by the Duke of Northumberland, Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland, whofe fon, the brave Earl Percy,
was his pupil, and by the powerful connections of the Hon.
George Grenville, now Marquis of Buckingham, and his
brother, who, under the care of their private Tutor, now an
English Bishop,† made a vifit to Dublin for the fole purpoſe
of
D
See Mrs. Sheridan's letters annexed, particularly that dated London,
November 29th, 1762... See alfo Mr. Bofwell, vol. i. p. 350.
Few are the tutors in the fifter kingdom who can boast of fuch com-
fortable terminations to their pains and folicitudes in diſcharge of their
laborious and momentous occupation.
18
REMARKS ON
of profiting by Sheridan's inftructions, which in a very emi
nent degree they confeffedly did, and during their ſtay there
were frequently h's gueſts His Majeſty's Bounty in like
manner, about the fame time, was extended to a Scotch gen-
tleman, I think Dr. Douglas, or the Rev. Mr. Home, author
of the Tragedy of that name. Theſe marks of Royal En-
couragement to literary merit were not in the intention
fimply confined to the individuals, happily ſelected for the
occafion, on his Majefty's Acceffion to the Throne; but on
an impartial fcale to be confidered as national compliments.
and earneſts of Sovereign Protection to Genius in the ſeveral
kingdoms of which thofe gentlemen were refpectively na-
tives; and were not a tax upon the national coffers, as in
the cafe of ordinary penfions; but paid out of his Majefty's
privy purſe. So ends the chapter of penſions.
us.
To return Sheridan is blamed for perfevering refentment;
we are by no means advocates for perfevering refentment;
but if juftifiable in any cafe, it furely was in the cafe before
Sheridan's refentment was an open honeft indignation,
arifing from a proper ſenſe of injurious treatment; it was
ſpirited, not vindictive; it was repulfive, not mean. Was he
again to run his head into the lion's mouth? and what was
his fecurity againſt ſavage attacks? His refentment was a
meaſure of felf-defence. Mr. Bofwell fays, he informed
Sheridan, that Johnſon would be glad to meet him amicably :
on what authority he did fo inform him does not appear.
Where was his commiffion? There is no note thereof in his
Diary, circumſtantial as it is; no trace of any ſuch converſa-
tion on the ſubject is to be found; had any thing of the kind
taken place it would have been recorded. He would have
made a merit of it, and, though it might have been an error
in the coftume, he would have marked it as an amiable trait
in the character of his illuſtrious friend. His good intention
fhall
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
19
fhall not be difputed; but the ftep was unwarranted, and the
conſequence at beſt problematical; there is no playing with
edge tools. He acted officiously and deſerved, what he was not
unaccustomed to, a rebuff: It would not have been the firſt
in cafes very ſimilar. The affair was Johnſon's; did he ever
retract his malicious infinuations? and what overtures in his
own perſon appear towards a reconciliation? was it not
rather prohibited by reiterated provocation? Boſwell, kind
foul! would impute it to an effect of vanity. Dr. Johnſon
does not fimply attack his friend Sheridan's vanity; he ties
him to the ftake; "He feeds fat the ancient grudge he bears
him"; he way-lays him; he affails him behind his back,
and takes illiberal advantage of his abfence to traduce and
fport away his character; he attacks him in his profeffion;
he endeavours to fap the foundation of his hard-earned fame,
and to depreciate his juft claims to public favour; but-" he
allows him to be a good man :" that is, he indulges his
fpleen at Sheridan's expence, and "after a pauſe," to give
his farcaſms their full effect, he bethinks him of a falvo. . . .
* But Brutus is an honourable man. In his own caſe he
might have thought it a fubdolous evaſion; a forced con-
ceffion wholly nugatory on the footing of worldly ſucceſs.
Goodneſs, as virtue, is its own reward, and ſeldom the
ground of competitorship. Dr. Johnſon's penfion was not
granted him on account of his goodneſs;
"the penfion was
granted to Johnſon folely as the reward of Lis literary merit.
To what then did his negative compliment amount? The
Jew may help Sheridan to an anſwer; his obfervation comes
home to the occafion, though, even Johnſon muſt admit,
Sheridan was in no reſpect a Brother of the Tribe.
>>
#Lord Loughborough's words. .. Bofwell, vol. i. p. 342.
Nay,
20
REMARKS ON
Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that:
You take my houfe, when you do take the prop
That doth ſuſtain my houfe; you take my life
When you do take the means whereby I live.
Sheridan had a family to provide for; his means were in
fuppofition, and, we may fay, altogether depended on his
eſtimation with the Public, which the ftrictures of Johnfon
were certainly not calculated to improve. Mr. Sheridan
had great energy of mind; he was an enthufiaft in the caufe
of Education; it was the favourite ſtudy of his life, and all
his exertions ultimately tended to that one great object: fo
clofely was it interwoven in his heart, that I have heard him
in converfation on the fubject declare to my Father, and I
believe he was fincere in the declaration, however para-
doxical it may ſeem, that he would rather fee his two fons.
at the head of reſpectable Academies, as a fituation the moſt
beneficial to mankind, than one of them Prime Miniſter of
Britain, and the other at the head of affairs in Ireland*
might be over fanguine in his projects, and, on that head it
muſt be confeffed, fomewhat fingular in his notions; yet
they did not ſpring from the littleneſs of a ſelfiſh ambition;
but were founded on the broad bafis of public good: they
might not, in vulgar acceptation, be very fplendid or fub-
lime; they might not exactly ſquare with the politics of his
children; but they were not, for that reafon, criminal; and
to ſay nothing of ingratitude, was it the part of a friend fo
looked up to, fo converfant in matters of juvenile inſtitution
as Johnſon was fuppofed to be, to thwart his benevolent
Hoft's generous ftruggles for independence? to treat him,
He
whom
The eldest, Charles-Francis, was at that time Secretary at War
and Member of the Houfe of Commons in Ireland; and the youngeſt,
Richard-Brinsley, Reprefentative for Stafford in England.
f
I
1
!
i
↓
十
​f
{
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
2I
6
whom he allowed to be a good man, with derifion, and to
hold him up as an object for Scorn to point her flow and
moving finger at? The figure is ftrong, and fome may
think the outline overcharged; but in ſuch caſes we are not.
to be guided merely by our own feelings; we are to have an
eye to the conception and feelings of the character more im-
mediately affected. What to one man is but matter of amuſe-
ment, may be to another death. Bofwell, in his Chronicle
from the year 1762 to the year 1784 inclufive, no leſs than
thirteen times introduces Mr. Sheridan, and every time for
the fole purpoſe, it would ſeem, of abuſing him; for almoſt
in every inſtance, either directly, or by obvious implication,
he is the Butt of reprehenfion, and his character epifodically
brought in as the vehicle of fome illiberal reflection.
The active part he took in promoting Johnſon to a penfion
is not abfolutely denied; but in the manner of relating
Bofwell does all that in him lies to obfcure the merit of it,
and folicitously compliments all his friends with having a
hand in it, even fome who never pretended a claim, * to
ravish the Honour from Sheridan. It refts on the concef-
fion of Lord Loughborough, though, according to the report,
grudgingly obtained, and certainly void of that ingenuous
openness and manly liberality which might be expected
from a perfon of his Lordship's exalted ſtation and character.
And, to borrow a favourite phrafe of Bofwell's, 'It is
but juſt to add,' that the part Johnfon acted on the oc-
cafion was affectedly fcrupulous; fhilly, fhally; he would and
he would not; more in the ftyle of a wayward, ſqueamish,
young
*It has been afferted on refpectable authority, that Mr. Murphy
never affumed to himself the diftinction of being the prime mover, as
alledged, in the buſineſs of the penſion to Johnſon.
2%
REMARKS ON
young fpinfter on the point of preferment, than a dignified
fage.... Mr. Bofwell tells us "the Earl of Bute, then
Prime Miniſter, had the honour to announce this inftance
of his Sovereign's bounty."* Two or three pages farther
on, "Sheridan communicated to Johnſon that a penfion was
granted to him," and from the great penfioner's remark-
able and pointed reply, it is as clear as the clearelt propo-
fition in Euclid, this was the first time the welcome tidings
reached his ears. † A venial flip of Mr. Bofwell's; perhaps
intentional, to fupport a difputed title, on the principle of a
well known proverb, great wits have fhort memories. An
apology the more requifite as this feems not the only flip
of the kind. In the fame page (as we have ſeen him) con-
fefling his chagrin, at an affair which happened two and
twenty years after, and relapſing into a fmile, when the evil
fpirit had departed from him, he reprefents his very kind friend
as the life and foul of fociety; for, as he fays, "Sheridan's
well-informed, animated and bustling mind never fuffered
converſation to ftagnate." Some few pages afterwards he
adopts a quite contrary fentiment, and with a vifible kind
of glee reprefents him as little better than a driveller-
CC
Why Sherry is dull; naturally dull. . . . fuch an exceſs
"of ftupidity is not in nature." But this was the reſponſe
of his Oracle, and, we may fuppofe, like the oracles of old,
verbal quirks and fubterfuges never wanting to evade the
charge of contradiction. The difabilities of Sheridan, 'who no
revenue had but his good ſpirits to feed and clothe him,' are
heavily laid, and roundly afferted. If juft, it could not be for
the agreeable amuſement of his company or converſation that
Johnſon ſo conſtantly frequented his table. And if unfounded,
what becomes of his vaunted attachment to truth? In the
common accidents of life there are no great temptations to its
violation,
* See Boſwell, vol. i. p. 341.
+Ibid p. 344.
་
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
23
E
violation, and, when a character is obtained, it ferves excel-
lently as a ftalking horſe; if it anfwered his purpoſe, well;
but in the preſent inſtance among others it may be ſeen, that
when calumny and detraction was the theme he could let
looſe the rein, and without ceremony tread down the fences.*
On his rupture with Sheridan, to bring him into company
where he was not might be an expedient to collect parties
for his lonely evenings, and, no doubt, fet the table in a
roar. His Biographer, a conftant attendant, we may alſo
perceive, had the knack of playing into his hand; and it
muſt be allowed, was a ſtrenuous croupier. † In brief, for
to trace him through all his doublings and eccentricities
would be an Herculean tafk, not an incident recorded to
Sheridan's
♣ Dr. Johnſon was fond of arguing for victory, and would eſpouſe
either fide of the queſtion, right or wrong, to foil his adverfary; a prac-
tice hardly to be jullified on moral principles, and often repugnant to
the interefts of truth; a contrary conduct might have been leis entertain-
ing and not fo favourable to the fplendor of talents;
But of the two, lefs dangerous is the offence
To tire our patience than miſlead our fenfe.
POPE.
A practice that trenches on the la s of fincerity is hardly compatible
with an inviolable regard to truth; arguing for arguing's fake is children's
play, fquabbling to the love of noife: arguing for victory has a more
dangerous afpect; 'tis like going to war for the fake of killing; a curious
way of proving a humane and peaceable difpofition. A mode of jelling fo
like earneft, may lead to very ferious miftakes, and tho' the jeft be disco-
vered, the impreffion indelibly remains. Dr. Johnfon, it muſt be allowed,
was a great light, a fhining light, but like other ſhining lights, if impli-
citly followed, may prove an ignis fatuus, and, fouce! you go into a ditch.
+ Croupier (croopeer] of which I know not the etymology. A word
current in ireland (on that account perhaps, omitted by Johnſon) a name
of office among the bon vivants at the festivals of Bacchus, given to the
perfon feated at the opposite end of the table to affift the toast-matter.
His duty is to circulate the bottle, and fee that the gentlemen of his
ſquad do justice to the toaft.Bailey has a word very near akin....
Croúper at a gaming-houie] accented on the firft fyllable, One who
watches the cards and gathers money for the bank or ſtake-tray. It is
faid to have been the occupation of a diftinguiſhed Commoner, and not
beneath the acceptance of a Right Honourable. But in fcandalous chro-
nicle it no where appears our Biographer flouriſhed in that department,
}
24
REMARKS ON
Sheridan's advantage, but is guarded with fome cautionary
reſtriction and coupled with claufes of abatement; fome in-
vidious glance at his perfon, his talents, his mode of life, or
profeffion; the adoption of which 'tis well known Sheridan
himſelf often lamented as matter of neceffity not wantonly
of choice; and, far from meaning a reproach, it is but juſtice
to add, that to the fame unrelenting Taſk-Miſtreſs, Neceffity,
the world is indebted for the labours of Johnſon, which drew
forth thoſe volumes of his life, in which irreconcileable enmity
appears the leading feature of his conduct towards his old
friend, Sheridan, throughout.
If there be an exception, it is a paragraph in the 3d volumc,
inferted as part of a defultory converſation ſaid to have taken
place in the year 1779, in which Sheridan's character, as a
man of merit, is favourably exhibited; nevertheleſs, even
there, a ſmatch of the old leven is perceivable. The ſubject
is introduced without any apparent connection, and a com-
pliment to him ſeemingly intended; but the effence of it is
done away, being connected with circumſtances of dubious
complexion, and founded on a Fact for which there is
no authority. Bofwell or Johnſon, Latet anguis in herba.
Let the impartial reader determine; the documents, though
not numerous, are fufficient. From an attention to which
alfo, it muſt evidently follow that Mr. Bofwell's claims to
fcrupulous authenticity, at leaſt in this inſtance, are not un-
exceptionably founded. The originals might have been ex-
amined, without running half over London; and perfonal
information was always at hand.
Bofwell, fpeaking of Johnſon, fays" He obſerved his
"old friend, Mr. Sheridan, had been honoured with extra-
"ordinary attention in his own country, by having had an ex-
"ception made in his favour in an Iriſh Act of Parliament
"concerning infolvent Debtors. Thus to be fingled out,"
faid
}
S
I
1
3
I
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
(
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
25
faid he, " by a Legiflature, as an object of public confidera-
"tion and kindneſs, is a proof of no common merit."* [p. 171.]
Not to indulge a captious diſpoſition, at the firſt bluſh
this paragraph betrays fomething of a contradiction; for
even on the high authority alledged Johnſon's unqualified
admiffion of his old friend's uncommon merit is fcarcely re-
concileable to that excefs of ftupidity denounced, as noticed
a page or two before, in his oracular capacity. However,
taken naked as it ſtands,' the eulogium is ſpeciouſly advanced,
and on flight grounds we fhould not deny him the credit of it;
involved with other circumſtances, as previously obſerved,
it has fomething in it of an equivocal nature, and comparing
E
it
*This affair is erroneouſly taken up in the fame light by Davies in
his Life of Garrick. Bofwell often fpeaks of Davies as a learned and
ingenious Writer for whom Dr. Johnfon had a particular kindneſs, by
whoſe advice and encouragement he undertook that pleaſing monument
to the memory of our English Rofcius. But though it is not wholly free
from partiality, natural enough in a Biographer, to his Hero, he has not
raiſed a magnificent coloffus to him on the broken ftatues of his co-
temporaries; when the fubje&t leads him to mention Mr. Sheridan, his
great master's competitor and rival, he ſpeaks with ingenuous freedom,
and not for the invidious purpoſe of dragging him into ludicrous notice.
The following is the paragraph particularly alluded to, which will bring
the Reader more intimately acquainted with Mr. Sheridan's true character,
and in fome meaſure counteract the poifon of Bofwell.
"This gentleman [Mr. Sheridan had been long efteemed a man of
eminence in his profeffion, and notwithstanding Mr. Garrick's great re-
putation for a&ing, fome criticks did not fcruple to compare, nay, pre-
fer Sheridan's performance of certain capital characters, fuch as Macbeth,
Hamlet, &c, to the other's utmoſt efforts in thoſe parts."
"But indeed the Manager's own jealoufy juftified the public good
opinion of Mr. Sheridan's ability; though certainly there was a wide dif-
ference between their feveral pretenfions; neither in perfon or voice had
nature been very kind to the latter. But his judgment, his learning,
and
26
REMARKS ON
t
it with the general tenour of his affertions, a doubt arifes
whether it was ferioufly or ironically intended. As the
matter ftands wholly infulated, there is no forming any
judgment from the context; but it comes in a queſtionable
ſhape, and muſt reſt folely on its own intrinfic merits. In
that light it is unluckily featured, and bears confutation on
the face of it. If infolvent acts were calculated generally
for the puniſhment, not relief, of unfortunate defaulters, the
ſtory of a clauſe of exception in favour of an individual might
carry weight; but Johnſon was too converfant in parlia
mentary uſage to be impoſed on, which makes it difficult to
conceive, if the diſcourſe be fairly ſtated, that he meant is
feriouſly. ແ Somebody, to roufe Johnſon, might wickedly
"have faid it," and that was his method of retorting. He
always difputed Sheridan's merits, for which no doubt he
had his reafons, and on a fuppofition that he thought it
merely a fpeculation of his old friend's partizans, a report
fabricated.
and cloſe application to ftudy, compenfated in fome degree for the want
of external advantages. His manner, though certainly not very pleaſing,
was ſuppoſed to be his own, and not borrowed from an imitation of others.
He had befides the advantage of an excellent character in private life.
Sheridan had the peculiar honour, when abfent from Ireland, to be dif
tinguished by the legislature of his country, as a man whoje particular in-
tereſt was worthy of their care and attention. . . . Mr. Garrick foon found
that his engagement with this actor was of very great advantage to him.
Little difference in the bulk of audiences was to be perceived when they
afted ſeparately the parts of Hamlet and Richard, or any other capital
characters. The Manager himſelf owned that, except Barry, he had
never found ſo able an affiftant; for the best of them he ſaid, would not
draw together a hundred pound audience; but Garrick's ruling paffion
was the love of fame, and his uneafinefs arifing from the fuccefs of
Sheridan began every day to be more and more visible," which we find,
by Mr. Davies's Account, terminated in a total feparation not much to
the honour or advantage of the Manager.
Davies's Life of Garrick, vol. i. pp. 300, 1. London printed 1784, 2 vol.
4th edit. the first edition bears date April 22, 1780.
ย
1
}
>
▸
{
t
!
▸
{
H
1
Į
?
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
27
Fabricated to enhance his character, the farcaſm comes point-
ed with double force. No Gentleman of information, par-
ticularly from Ireland, could confider it as complimentary;
for, improbabilities apart, it refts upon a Fact to which, had
any ſuch exiſted, they could not be ftrangers. It muſt have
been an affair of public notoriety, open to inſpection ; but in
truth no ſuch exception is on record. The particular A♣
alluded to, and the Journals of the Houfe of Commons,
printed by authority, are now under confultation, and
no veftiges of any fuch exception are to be met with in
either. Whatever gave birth to it, the ftory as related is
fictitious, and can do no honour to the memory of Mr. Sheri-
dan in the eſtimation of any intelligent perfon who really
refpected him. His merit ftood in no need of meretricious
varniſh or adventitious fupport; the Public were in full pof-
feffion of it; but the kindneſs he experienced was the kind-
nefs of private friendship. The effort of One who feldom
let an opportunity of ſerving thoſe for whom he profeffed a
friendſhip eſcape him. The ſubject has been already touched
upon, which as a literary anecdote a few incontrovertible
facts will more fatisfactorily elucidate; they are extracted
from my Father's papers, and are faithful to the Original.
1
JOURNALS of the HOUSE of COMMONS, Vol. xiv. } Page 207 †
Martis, II die Martii, 1766.
"A Petition of Samuel Whyte and other principal Credi
tors of Thomas Sheridan, Efq. was prefented to the Houfe
and read; fetting forth, that the ſaid Thomas Sheridan, late
Manager of the Theatre in Smock-alley, having contracted
feveral debts which he was unable to answer, was obliged to
quit the kingdom, from the perfecution of fome of his Creditors,
*See WHYTE'S POEMS: Notes and Illuftrations, p, 297.
who
i
+ In the edit. of 1771... . in a fubfequent Edition, viz. in that of 1782,
page 229, where Petitioner's name is inaccurately fpelled, White.
}
28
REMARKS ON
who refuſed to fign a Letter of Licence, by which he is
cut off from every profpect of paying his debts, or providing
for his family. And praying, that the faid Thomas Sheridan
may have fuch protection and relief as to the Houſe fhall
feem meet.'
>>
"Ordered, that the faid Petition be referred to the faid
Committee."
This was entirely a voluntary meaſure of the Petitioner,
without the participation or even knowlege of Mr. Sheridan,
who, for the reafons fet forth in the Petition, had retired
with his family to Blois in France. The fituation of his
affairs, though greatly deranged, had not deprived him of
every refource; he had ftill a Friend, who, not unconfci-
ous of the difficulties in his way, entertained hopes of finding,
one day or other, the means of restoring him to his
eountry. At length an opportunity feemed to prefent itſelf.
A Bill was brought into Parliament for the Relief of Infol-
vent Debtors under certain limitations. Petitions poured into
the Houſe from every quarter; but Mr. Sheridan's abfence,
at fo remote a diſtance, rendered it impoffible, had he been
ever fo much inclined, to take advantage of the occafion.
The Bill was fome time pending, and Petitioner, who had
preconcerted his plan, waited its progreſs with filent expecta-
tion; for he knew Mr. Sheridan, in confequence of his critical
fituation, had many enemies, and fome very indifcreet friends,
whoſe officiouſneſs might prove as detrimental as the machi-
nations of his adverfaries; both of which were to be guarded
against; he therefore, for fear of accidents, kept cloſe his
intentions, and poftponed his application to the laſt hour, that
thoſe whom he fufpected inimical might not have time to
unite their forces and make head against him. Tueſday,
March 11, was the day fixed for the final Refolution of the
Houſe.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
29
1
Houfe. On the Sunday morning preceding, Petitioner went
to Bellingham Boyle, Efq; of Rathfarnham Cafle, whofe
kind partiality he had long experienced, and for the firſt
time opened his defign. Mr Boyle listened to it with his
accuſtomed cordiality, and very much applauded the inten-
tion, but did not flatter him with great expectation of ſuc
cefs; for he imagined it would meet with a powerful oppo-
fition, and the time was too fhort to fecure a party to carry
it through. Petitioner earneſtly remonftrated, and explained
his motives for the delay, which Mr. Boyle, upon conſider-
ation, thinking feaſible, he propofed to confult Mr. Tiſdall
[the Attorney General] and a few more of the leading
Members, to whom Petitioner was well known, and pro-
mifed, as foon as poffible, to apprize him of the refult.
The fucceeding evening, at a very late hour, he was fum-
moned to attend at the Chambers of Mr. Fitzgerald, Judge
of the Admiralty, where he found the Attorney General, the
Provoſt, Mr. Boyle, and fix or feven Members more, in
confultation. Having fatisfied them in fome points touching
the buſineſs in queftion, they gave him inftructions to
prepare a Petition to be prefented to the Houſe early
the next day, and, as they had no doubt Mr. Sheridan
had many well-wishers among his Creditors, directed him
to get it figned by as many of them as he could, which,
ſeeing the buſineſs in train, and his example, a joint and
equal fufferer, before them, it
them, it was fuppofed none of
them would refuſe.
Here indeed he met with the moft mortifying diſappoint
ments; for, though all thoſe he judged it prudent to confide
in, declared themfelves fatisfied of Mr. Sheridan's probity
and good intentions, and acknowleged, without reſerve,
that the particulars-were fairly and honeſtly ſtated, he could
not
រ
30
REMARKS ON
not procure a ſingle name in addition to his own to coun-
tenance the application. George Faulkner, whom he looked
upon as his ſheet anchor, was the first that excufed himſelf. +
The morning being wafted in fruitless folicitations, no time
was to be loft; the Petition, in its original conception, which
was merely a rough draft haftily made out, and crude as it
obviouſly muſt be, was delivered to Mr. Boyle, who, though
a ſtrenuous and active colleague, was no ſpeaker, and he
committed it to Mr. Fitzgerald. That Gentleman, in a very
happily-conceived ſpeech, recommended it to the Houſe; the
celebrated Charles Lucas, M. D. Reprefentative for Dublin,
Petitioner's most intimate Friend, feconded the motion,
which was warmly fupported by Mr. Adderley.
•
It paffed unanimouſly . . . . The Petitioner to attend the
Committee on Thurſday the laſt of their fitting.
JOHN MONCK MASON, Efq. in the Chair.
The late Lord Viſcount Doneraile, and the prefent Lord
Viſcount Northland, his earlieſt and moſt ſteady patrons, then
in the Commons, received him at the door, and taking him
by the hand announced him to the Committee, faying,
"Here comes the worthy Petitioner for Mr. Sheridan."
This was an encouraging reception, and the prelude to a more
gnal inſtance of favour in the fequel. Standing at the foot
of the table, the Book, as is the ufage, was handed to him;
but the teſt of an Affidavit was difpenfed with.
Mr. Tottenham immediately rofe, and addreffing the Chair,
expatiated at fome length on the purport of the Petition be-
fore them, and the extraordinary circumftance of its intro-
duction to the Houfe. A Creditor petitioning the Legiſla-
ture in behalf of his Debtor, he obferved, was very much
out of the ufual courfe, and the fingle inftance of the kind,
Something more of this Gentleman in a ſubſequent page.
he
1
1
1
h
E
7
C
L
X
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
31
{
he believed, that ever folicited the attention of Parliament.
Among other encomiums, of which he was by no means
fparing, he faid, it was a fpirited and laudable exertion of
friendſhip, evidently proceeding from a difintereſted principle,
and in his opinion merited particular confideration and re-
fpect; adding, "I therefore move you, that Petitioner Stall not
be put to his OATH; but the Facts fet forth in his Petition be ad-
mitted fimply on his WORD. His motion was feconded by an
inftantaneous, Ay! Ay! without a diffenting voice. A few
queſtions were then put, purely as it were for form's fake,
and Petitioner was diſmiſſed with repeated teftimonies of ap-
plauſe and congratulations of fucceſs.
">
The Creditors, moft likely, either did not wifh or imagine
he would carry his point; for when they found the buſineſs
effected, they appeared in a combination to abuſe him; and
not only reproached him for meddling, as they called it, but
affected to look upon him as refponſible to them for the whole
of their respective demands; 'becauſe, as they alledged, he
had without their concurrence had recourfe to Parliament to
their prejudice, and deprived them of the means of profe-
cuting their juſt claims. Some of them actually confulted
counſel, and took ſteps for the purpoſe of compelling him to
pay them out of his own pocket. The idea may be now
laughed at; but the thing was very ſeriouſly menaced: and
in his ſituation, unhackneyed as he was in the ways of men;*
of a profeffion too of all others the moft expofed to anxiety
and trouble, with at beſt very inadequate compenſation, it
muſt have been an accumulated grievance, and their vindictive
malice not a little alarming.
Mr. Sheridan's fubfequent letters on the ſubject, now in
the Editor's hands, at the ſame time that they more clearly
explain
* He was of a retired habit; just turned of thirty, and ſcarcely
eight years converfant in business.
}
32
REMARKS ON
explain and corroborate the facts, remain a decifive teftimony
of his principles, and reflect a genuine luftre on his character
as a Huſband, a Father, a moral Man, and a Chriſtian.
To Mr. Samuel Whyte, Mafter of the English Grammar-School, in
Grafton-freet, Dublin. Via Londres, Angleterre.
DEAR SAM!
YOUR long-expected letter has at length arrived
without date. You mention in it that it was writ the
poſt after Mr. Sheen's, but by fome ftrange fatality it has
been fix weeks longer in its paffage. I own your long filence
aſtoniſhed me, and raiſed in me many mortifying reflections.
The general neglect which I experienced from all quarters in
my diftreft fituation, created in me ſuch an apathy for all the
affairs of this life, that I was almoſt brought to wish to paſs
the rest of my days
Oblitufque meorum oblivifcendus et illis.
But your last has fhewn me that friendship is not wholly
banished from the earth. I find that it is to your care folely
I am indebted for the turn my affairs have taken, and it
pleaſed me the more, as you are the only perfon living to
whom I would wish to owe fuch obligation. Your filence
during the tranfaction carries its excufe with it.
It was
better on every account that the attempt ſhould be made
without my privity. And to deal ingenuously with you,
had you confulted- me, 1 fhould never have confented to it.
But as the thing has paffed with fo much credit to me, the
whole honour and merit of it is yours. What I mentioned
in a former, relative to an act of Parliament, had no re-
ference to any fuch act to be made in Ireland, of which I
had not the leaft idea; but to an English act paffed the fef-
fions before for the relief of inſolvent debtors, with the nature
of
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
33
}
3
of which I defired to be made acquainted..
•
•
You have
not made me acquainted with the circumftances of the act, in
which, through your friendly and difintereſted exertions, I
am concerned; nor mentioned the time that it will be proper
for me to go to Ireland. I fhould be glad you would take
the first opportunity of conveying a copy of the act to Mr.
Chamberlaine, becauſe there are fome points on which I
would take advice in London, before my fetting out for
Dublin. And now, my dear SAM! I must tell you, that
without your farther affiſtance it will be impoffible for me to
reap the benefit of what you have done for me. From the
perpetual fluctuation in the miniſtry, the payments are no
longer punctual at the Treaſury. There is now due to me
a year of my penſion; and at the moment I am writing to
you I am reduced to my laſt Louis. I had relied upon re-
ceiving about fifty pound from Sheen, for the books and a
year's rent of a certain farm at Quilca. But this I find,
without any notice given me, has been foreftalled, and Sheen
writes me word that he has not a fhilling to fpare. I had
before applied to fome friends in England, who had made
large profeffions to me; but I find, by an obftinate filence on
their part, that nothing is to be expected from them. My
fole reliance at prefent is upon you; nor fhould I have the
leaft doubt on me, if your abilities were equal to your good
will. But I must conjure you by all that is facred in friend
ſhip to raiſe a hundred pounds for me, as fpeedily as you can,
and convey it to William Whately, Efq; Banker in London,
for my uſe; on the receipt of which I will immediately ſet
out for England in my way to Dublin. Mrs. Sheridan and
the Children will continue in France, 'till my affairs are
ſettled; and after that you may rely upon it that this is the
firſt debt I ſhall think myſelf bound to diſcharge. I need not
fay
F
1
34
KEMARKS ON
fay more upon this head; I am ſure your utmoſt endeavours
will not be wanting to ferve me in this exigence, and to
complete what you have fo well begun.
And now I muſt give you fome account of what we have
been doing fince our arrival at Blois. I have long fince
finiſhed the Dictionary, and have got together the greateſt
part of the materials for the Grammar, which only want
being reduced into order. I have likewife almoſt finiſhed a
volume of Dialogues on the Engliſh Language, to ſerve as
a preparative for the other work. The more I reflect on
the general uſe which must be made of this work wherever
English is taught, the more I am convinced that the profits
of it will be confiderable; and that if I keep the right of
the Copy to myfelf (which is my defign) it will be an eſtate
to my family. I have finiſhed a Grammar too in Engliſh and
French, for the uſe of all foreigners who underſtand French,
that are defirous of attaining a knowledge of the English
tongue by an eaſy and ſhort method. I have alfo drawn up
a Grammar in Engliſh to facilitate the attainment of the
French tongue to all who fpeak English; a work much
wanted, and which I began at firſt for the uſe of my children,
upon finding the great imperfection of all hitherto publiſhed
with that view. Mrs. Sheridan has writ a comedy called a
Trip to Bath, in which fome good judges in England find a
She has alfo made two additional
great deal of merit.
volumes to the Memoirs of Sidney, and has begun a Tragedy
in profe upon part of the ftory contained in this latter part.
Thus you fee, that, together with the time employed in the
inftruction of the children, we have not been idle fince our
arrival here. Our coming to Blois has been attended with
the happy circumftance of reſtoring Mrs. Sheridan to a per-
fect good ſtate of health, a bleffing which ſhe had not known
for
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
$5
"
But I
for ten years before; and this alone would make me think it
a fortunate event which drove us hither. But I have other
reafons to blefs this event. It has afforded me an opportunity
of acquiring two of the moſt uſeful kinds of knowledge,
which one can be poffeffed of in this life; I mean a knowledge
of the world, and a knowledge of myfelf. To know the
world well, one muſt ceafe to be an actor in the bufy fcene
of life, and be contented to be an humble fpectator; and to
know one's felf well, long uninterrupted leifure for felf-exa-
mination, at a distance from the turbulence and feductions
of the world, is effentially neceſſary. The reſult of my re-
flections with regard to the world has been the fame with
that of the wife man, that it is, Vanity of Vanities.
have not like him ended my enquiries there. My mind
could never reft in fo difpiriting a conclufion; it naturally led
me to the confideration of another life, where all that is
amifs here will be rectified. And after the most unpreju-
diced enquiries, I remained in the full conviction, that it is
from RELIGION alone that we can hope for contentment in
this life, or happineſs in a future one: and the reſult of my
felf-examination was, a determined refolution to make her
facred dictates the guide of all my future actions. Don't
think, SAM! that either fuperftition or melancholy have
had the leaſt influence on this occafion, for I have not a grain
of either in my compofition; it has been the effect of a long,
cool, deliberate train of reflection.
I am forry I was not before made acquainted with the very
kind part which Mr. Boyle took in my affairs. I fear a
letter, after fo great a diſtance of time, would appear with
but an ill grace: I must therefore beg you will take it upon
yourſelf to make him my moft grateful acknowledgments,
and at the ſame time the apology for my filence.
not fay a word about Mrs. Whyte, nor your Boy.
You do
Do you
think
1
36
REMARKS ON
think we are indifferent with regard to what concerns you?
Affure Mr. and Mrs. Guinneſs of my warmeft regards and
beſt wiſhes. I did intend to return a few lines in anſwer to
the obliging ones which ſhe added to yours, but you ſee the
paper is finiſhed.
I am ever fincerely
Blois, August 1ſt, 1766.
and affectionately yours,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
This letter affords indubitable proof of the Writer's great
reliance on his Friend; and the following will equally evince
his Friend was no temporizer; and that his attention to
Mr. Sheridan, or his alacrity to ferve him, neither diſtance
of fituation, nor change of circumftances, abated.
TO MR. SAMUEL WHYTE, IN GRAFTON-STREET, DUBLIN.
SIR,
London, 13th Auguft, 1766.
I HAVE received your favour of the 9th, with a Bill
on Meffrs. Ker and co. for £25... which ſhall be paffed
to the account of Mr. Sheridan as defired. I am, for Meffrs.
Caftells, and myſelf,
Sir, your moſt humble fervant,
SIR,
WILLIAM WHATELY.
London, 17th September, 1766.
I HAVE received your favour of the 11th, with
a Bill on Mr. Clarke for £75... which ſhall be placed to the
account of Mr. Thomas Sheridan. I am, for Meffrs. Caftells,
and myſelf,
Sir, your moft humble fervant,
Aug. 9th. Rem. 25:0:0
WILLIAM WHATELY.
Sep. 11th. do.. 75:0:0
Total £100: 0: 0 Brit. Curr.
;
To
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
f
37
J
1
·
To Mr. Samuel Whyte, Mafter of the English Grammar-School,
in Grafton-fireet, Dublin. Via Londres, Angleterre.
Paris, October 13th, 1766.
OFTEN have I fat down to write to you an account of
the moſt fatal event that could befall me in this life, and as
often have thrown afide the pen. Oh, my dear SAM! the
moft excellent of women is no more. Her apparent malady
was an intermitting fever, attended with no one bad fymp-
tom, 'till the day before her death, when he was fuddenly
deprived of her fenfes, and all the fatal prognofticks of a
fpeedy diffolution appeared. She died the death of the
righteous, without one pang, without a groan. The ex-
traordinary circumftances attending her cafe made me re-
folve to have her opened: when it was found that the whole
art of medicine could not have prolonged her days, as all
the noble parts were attacked, and any one of four internal
maladies muſt have proved mortal. If the news of this
event has not yet reached Dublin, break it to my Sifter as
gently as you can. I ſet out from this in a few days for
St. Quintin, a town about half way between this and Calais,
where I purpoſe to leave my Children, in the hands of Pro-
teftants, to whom they are ſtrongly recommended. As foon
as I have fettled them, I fhall fet out for London, and thence
proceed to Dublin as ſpeedily as poffible. I thank you for
your last letter and the remittance, without which I fhould
not have been able to have made this arrangement.-SAM!
you have loft a Friend who valued you much. I have loft
what the world cannot repair, a bofom Friend, another felf.
My children have loft-Oh their Lofs is neither to be ex-
preffed nor repaired. But the will of God be done.
I am ever fincerely
and affectionately yours,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
It
38
REMARKS ON
It is a juft remark of Dr. Johnſon's, that "
many things
which are falſe are tranfmitted from book to book and gain
credit in the world," an obſervation which comes home to
the experience of moft intelligent readers, and has been
abundantly verified in the cafe of Mr. Sheridan. The pre-
ceding facts fpeak for themſelves, and the documents will
hardly be diſputed. In a former page of this volume, it is
faid, that he died at Margate, Thurſday, Auguſt the 16th.*
This is an error of the prefs, it ſhould be Thurſday, Auguſt
the 14th, 1788. He had performed a long and difficult
part in the eye of the Public, and his final exit was not un-
noticed. Memoirs of the late Thomas Sheridan, Efq; ap-
peared in the European Magazine for the months of Septem-
ber,t October,t November,t and December,† fubfequent;
ftating in the first inftance, according to cuftom, the fup-
pofed particulars of his birth and parentage, as follows:
"Thomas Sheridan was the eldeft fon of Dr. Thomas
Sheridan, an eminent divine and ſchoolmafter, but more
← celebrated as the friend and companion of Dean Swift, by
"Mifs Macpherſon, daughter of a Scots gentleman. He
"was born at Quilca, a place which to future times will
#
acquire a degree of importance, as the refidence of Swift,
" and the birth-place of moſt of Mr. Sheridan's family; par-
❝ticularly the author of the School for Scandal.‡"-And in a
prior publication, containing Memoirs of Richard-Brinsley
Sheridan, that gentleman is defcribed as "the eldeft ſon of
"Thomas Sheridan and Frances his wife, born at Quilca
"near Dublin."
Thefe memoirs were republished verbatim in different
places, particularly in the Edinburgh and Dublin Magazines;
the
* WHYTE'S POEMS, p. 298. Eur. Mag. pp. 210, 274, 325, 108.
See also Biographia Dramatica, article Sheridan.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
39
the latter by Pat. Byrne, bookfeller, Grafton-ſtreet.
It must be prefumed that the Compiler proceeded on the
beft information he could collect; but his information was
not authentic. Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Sheridan's youngeſt and
only furviving Sifter, who at the time prefided over an emi-
ment Boarding-School for young Ladies in York-ftreet, was
confulted as to the facts, and her account, which cannot be
controverted, ran widely different.
Thomas Sheridan was not the firft-born of their Parents;
her brother Richard being upwards of three years his fenior,
whofe eldeſt Son of the fame name, late a King's Counſel,
and Member for Charlemont, was prefent at the relation.
The name of the Doctor's firſt-born fon was James, who
died young and was buried in St. Mary's Church-yard,
Auguſt 22d, 1724, as appears by the Regiſter; confequently
Thomas was his third fon. Neither was their Mother's
maiden name Macpherſon, nor was the of Scotch extraction.
Her name was Elizabeth Macfadden, the only child of an
Irish gentleman of the Province of Ulfter. Mrs. Knowles
could not fee the propriety of diſtinguiſhing Quilca as the
fettled refidence of Swift, more than Sir Arthur Acheſon's,
Mr. Matthews's, Mr. Hamilton's, or any other place where
he might have been an invited gueft, or for a few months
occafionally accommodated: and ſetting down Quilca as the
birth-place of her brother Thomas, or any of his family, was
void of all foundation; for her Mother and Sifter were re-
markably timid on thoſe occafions, and invariably fixed on
the Capital, where they were in the way of more immediate
and better affiftance than could be expected in the country.
Her brother Thomas, as well as herſelf, and the rest of the
Doctor's children, were born in Capel-ftreet, in King James's
mint-
J
40
REMARKS ON
mint-houfe, as it was called, where her Father held his ſchool;*
and her brother Tom's third fon, Richard-Brinsley, author of
the School for Scandal, was born at his Father's houſe in
Dorfet-ſtreet, Dublin, where his eldeſt fon Thomas, who
died in childhood, Charles-Francis, and his eldeſt daughter,
were alfo born; and all his children, except the youngeſt
daughter, who was born in Henrietta-ſtreet, Covent Garden,
London, were baptized in St. Mary's Church, where like-
wife the Doctor her Father's children all received their
Baptifm. This account is confirmed by the Regiſter, to be
feen in the Church books of St. Mary's, Dublin,† which could
not well have been the cafe had they been born at Quilca;
a journey of about fifty English miles from Dublin, and not,
as afferted, in the neighbourhood of that Metropolis.
Without entering into other matters, there are fome things
to be corrected in the ftory told of George Faulkner, of
oftentatious memory, which but ill fquares with his conduct
on a former occafion mentioned, and feems more calculated
for eclat, than confiftent with the Fact. His relinquishing
his fecurities, were it really the cafe, two years after the
power of enforcing them had been ſuperfeded, was but an
empty compenfation for refuſing his Name when it might
have been of ufe; but the Alderman knew Printers, and
Printers knew him. The paragraph told prettily, and he
obtained the Feather. Quiefcant mortui ! .. The buſineſs
was done without him.||
Mr.
· •
See an account of the former and prefent ftate of this ancient Edifice
after the Table of Contents. WHYTE'S POEMS, p. viii. . . . A plate of
which is given, as a Tail-piece, at the end of the first poem called the
Theatre, or Mirrour for Youth addicted to the Theatro-Mania.
+ Extract from the Regifter of St. Mary's Parish, Dublin. Charles-Francis,
fon of Thomas and Frances Sheridan, baptized July 23d, 1750-Richard-
Brinsley, fon of Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan, baptized November 4th, 1751.
See a ſpecimen of this worthy Alderman's kindneis, page 30, line 2.
II The paragraph alluded to, which was omitted in the former Edition,
is added in a ſubſequent page, with a few curfory remarks, of which fome
of our readers fuggefted the propriety.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON.
4I
Mr. Sheridan arrived in Dublin, from France, in the
month of October, 1766, and, as the Act directs, appeared
A&
in Court during the Term to take the benefit of it in form.
Very ſhortly after, having no fcheme of fecreting his pro-
perty, a trick too common on fuch occafions, a meeting of
his Creditors was called by public advertiſement, and the re-
mains of his fortune, which chiefly confifted of furplus rents
arifing from a certain farm at Quilca, which he had formerly
purchaſed from his eldeſt brother, and had in his difficulties
mortgaged to a brother-in-law, was veſted in three of the
Creditors, in truft for the whole, who, without let or mo-
leſtation, permitted him the free enjoyment of the fame till
his death. Some months after Quilca was advertiſed to be
fold, † and the purchaſe money was honourably appropri
ated, upon an average of the outſtanding debts, to the pur-
poſe of diſcharging them.
No dirty expedient was
attempted to evade payment, though at the interval of
‡
G
two
* Tho. Adderly, Efq. M. P. Robert Birch of Turvey, Efq. M. P. and
Wm. Lefanu, Efq.who was the principal agent, and honourably, as on every
other occasion thro' an exemplary life of 86 years, discharged the trust re-
pofed in him. The two laft of whom were living when thefe Remarks were
first published; Mr Birch is now the only furviver April 3d, 1798.
The Equity of Redemption rather, Anno 1789; which brought
about 650l. ſubject to the mortgage, which devolved to the mort-
gagee's daughter, who now enjoys the iffues and profits.
This paffage is literally tranſcribed from the Author's MS. It is feel-
ingly given from his own perſonal experience in other cafes, to which it
manifeftly alludes. The Items, not trifling nor a few, are on his Books;
upwards of fifteen hundred pounds for board and tuition. . . • £1500!!!
liberal education truly, with a witnefs. It was not in that way my
FATHER showed his gratitude to the worthy preceptor of his youth;
knowing a confiderable fum for his board and inſtruction had been
fuffered to accumulate, when he came of age he called for the account,
and, adding the intereft, diſcharged the whole to the uttermoft farthing.
This decided proof of his pupil's honour and integrity the good old
gentleman
42
REMARK S, &c.
two and twenty years, no intereft during that time having
been paid or called for, the ftatute of limitation might
have been pleaded in full force; the Creditors were publicly
apprized of the intended diftribution, and every claimant,
duly producing vouchers, received his dividend refpectively
apportioned.
+
In a Work of confiderable merit and utility, which lately
iffued from the American Prefs, it is recorded, under the head
of Eminent Men, that "the Rev. Doctor Thomas Sheridan,
"of Ireland, Author of the English Dictionary, Works on
"Elocution, &c. died August 14th, 1788." Here Father
and Son are evidently confounded. Well! and what
matter, cries his Worſhip in ftilts; he fees no occafion for
fuch great minuteness: What's Hecuba to him, or he to
Hecuba? Very true, Sir! and is the Sneer lefs applicable.
to your Alexanders and your Cæfars, thofe Gods on Earth,
who have been hung up to poſterity on as difputable au-
thority, and to as little purpoſe ? An honeſt man's the
nobleft work of God.-He is an example proper for imita-
tion, and fuch alone are worthy of commemorating. Pope
on the various purſuits of mankind, among others, fpeaking of
your Heroes and your Politicians, comes precifely to the point:
But grant that thofe can conquer, thefe can cheat,
'Tis phraſe abfurd to call a VILLAIN great.
September 5, 1796.
gentleman on his death-bed pathetically inculcated to his children,
whom, in that awful crifis, he recommended to his care. They are
living, and take pleaſure in teftifying the facts. One inftance of the like
kind, and but one in the courſe of forty years, my FATHER has
experienced in his own practice.
1
EXTRACTS
AND
ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS,
ALLUDED TO IN THE COURSE OF THE REMARKS
ON BOSWELL'S JOHNSON;
INCLUDING THE
REAL HISTORY OF THE GOLD MEDAL
GIVEN TO THE AUTHOR OF THE
TRAGEDY OF DOUGL A S.
OUR Author* in his Obfervations concerning Imitation,
quoting a paffage from Lord Rofcommon, oppoſes it to a
fimilar paffage in the Effay on Criticiſm by our Engliſh
Homer. Pope, he remarks, on the Structure of Poetic
Numbers, lays down the following rule:
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
The found fhould be an echo to the fenfe."
Eſſay on Criticiſm, verſe 364.
The laft line, with the alteration of a fingle word, is evidently
borrowed from the noble Peer; not perhaps with the ufual
felicity of great genius, which is to improve upon the
original. The idea of making the found a comment or echo
to the fenfe is coeval with poetry itſelf; a doctrine founded
in nature and clearly demonftrable on the principles of har-
mony and good tafte, we may add too, a doctrine univerfally
received as orthodox, till of late combated by Dr. Johnſon
and a few of his implicit difciples. It is a favourite fubject
of
✦ MR. WHYTE... Preliminary Effay to his POEMS, new Edit. p. lv,
44
APPENDIX.
S
of Sheridan's, and for that very reaſon, as it appears, faftidi-
oufly, and I will fay ungratefully, oppofed by Johnſon,
whom Sheridan in the day of emergency had effentially
ferved.* The circumſtance could not be obliterated; but as
the fenſe of obligation is painful to fome minds, from a
falſe conceit of fomething in it humiliating, it was a per-
petual blifter to the Doctor, which, whenever the name of
Sheridan was but glanced at, irritated his farcaftic difpofition,
and was the real ground of that irreconcileable difference
which latterly fubfifted between them. . . . This may found
harfh to the memory of that great Moralift, but (both have
paid the debt of nature) it is fimply doing juftice to the other,
which indeed is virtually granted, though it muſt be obſerved
with manifeſt reluctance, by Bofwell himſelf. Bofwell in
his ardour for Johnſon generally ufes the name of Sheridan
invidioufly, and for the moft part ignorantly or wilfully
miſtakes facts, and mifreprefents the man. †The Writer
fpeaks from his own knowlege, and eſpecially as to two,
the moſt confiderable inftances, wherein he himſelf was the
principal Agent. Qua ipfe miferrima vidi, et quorum pars
magna fui, (b. c.) One of the inftances alluded to is in
another
Bofwell's Life of Johnſon, 3 vols. Lond. 1793, 2d Edit. vol. i. pp. 341, 2.
That Journalist on the head of Johnſon's Penfion tells us, "The Ear! of
"Bute, who was then Prime Minifter, had the honour to announce this
"inuance of his Sovereign's Bounty, &c." and p. 343, 44, acknowleging
on the conceffion of Lord Loughborough, that Sheridan was the PRIME
MOVER of the Bufinefs, fays "and it is but juſt to add, that Mr. Sheridan
"told me, that when he communicated to Dr. Johnſon that a Penfion was
to be granted to him, he replied in a fervour of gratitude, The Engliſh
"Language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occafion.
“ I muſt have recourse to the French. I am penetré with his Majefly's good-
us nejse..
When I repeated this to Dr. Johnſon he did not contradict it."
BOSWELL.
+ Ibid. pp. (a) 349, 50, 51, 52, 53; 417; 543; 581; 589. Vol. ii. pp. 16.
(h) 20.1, 5; 364 Vol. iii. pp. (c) 171; 470: 476; 594, &c.
APPENDIX.
45
another place tranfiently taken up ;* the other, as an anec-
dote connected with the literary hiſtory of the times, fhall
now be related.
t
Dr. Johnſon affected to dislike the Tragedy of Douglas,
which, as Bofwell fays, "He called a foolish Play," partly,
we may ſuppoſe, from national prejudice, being written by a
Scotchman; and partly becauſe, as he had heard, it was
wonderfully admired by his friend Sheridan, whom, as
Bofwell gives it from the Doctor's own mouth," he wan-
tonly and infolently treated in a coffee-houfe at Oxford,
becauſe he prefented its Author with a Gold Medal;"
which Johnſon quaintly enough phraſes counterfeiting
Apollo's coin." There is fomething fufpicious in the
ftory of this puny gafconade.-Sheridan was not remark-
ably pacific in cafes of infults offered; for, adopting the
words of Hamlet, his favourite character, he might juftly
fay of himſelf, though I am not fplenetive and rafb, yet bave
I in me fomething dangerous, which let thy wisdom fear.ţ
And as to the circumſtance of the Medal it would feem
both the Doctor and Biographer were but partially informed.
When the Tragedy of Douglas firſt came out, Mr. Sheridan,
then Manager of the Dublin Theatre, received a printed
copy of it from London, which having, according to cuftom,
previouſly read to his company, he caft for repreſentation;
for it is true he highly admired it, and apprized the per-
formers, it was his intention to give the author his third
nights, as if the play had been originally brought out at
his own houſe; an unprecedented act of liberality in the
Manager, which, it was thought, would be wonderfully
productive
* WHYTE'S POEMS, new Edition.... Notes on the Theatre or
Mirrour for Youth addicted to the Theatro-Mania, p. 297.
+ Witness the well-known affair of Kelly's Riot, as it was called, de.
tailed by VICTOR, and HITCHCOCK, and noticed in a fubfequent page,
46
APPENDIX.
{
productive to the Author. The first night, as the play had
received the fanction of a Britiſh audience, the houſe was
crammed, and the fecond night kept pace with the firft. The
printers mean while were not idle; it now iffued from the
Iriſh prefs, and unfortunately for the poor Author, a dif-
fenting Clergyman, with an ecclefiaftical anathema againſt
him annexed. Things inftantly took a new turn; the play
was reprobrated, and confidered as a profanation of the
clerical character; a faction was raiſed againſt it, and the
third night, which was expected to be an overflow, fell
miferably ſhort of Expences. The Manager was in an awk-
ward predicament; he was the caufe of raifing expectations,
at leaſt innocently, that could not be anſwered; and ſtood
committed to the Author and his friends in a buſineſs,
which unforeſeen accidents had utterly defeated. . . . An un-
feeling mind might have let it reft there; but it was not an
unfeeling mind that dictated the meaſure. Something muſt
be done; and though the Writer of this account was at
the time a very young man, Mr. Sheridan was pleaſed to
communicate to him his difficulties on the occafion. The
firft idea was to write a friendly letter to the Rev. Author,
and accompany it with a handſome piece of plate. To this
I took the liberty to object; for, as I underſtood he was not
a family man, it might run him to expence in fhowing it,
which in fuch a cafe was a very natural piece of vanity, and
furely in itſelf no way reprehenfible. I rather thought
fomething he could conveniently carry about with him
would anſwer better; fuppofe a piece of Gold in the way
of a Medal. Mr. Sheridan thanked me for the hint, and
advifing with Mr. Robert Calderwood, a filversmith of the
firſt eminence, a man of letters alfo and good taſte, he threw
out the very fame idea, influenced by pretty much the fame
reafons:
i
1
APPENDIX.
47
reafons: It was executed accordingly; the intrinfic value
fomewhere about twenty guineas. On one fide was en-
graved a Laurel Wreath, and on the reverſe, as nearly as
I rememember, at the diſtance of almoft forty years, the
following Infcription :
Thomas Sheridan, Manager of the Theatre Royal, Smock-alley,
Dublin, prefents this ſmall token of his gratitude to the Author of
Douglas, for his having enriched the Stage with a Perfect Tragedy.
Soon after I carried it with me to London, and through
the favour of Lord Macartney, it was delivered to the
Miniſter, Lord Bute, for his countryman the Author of
Douglas. But even this alſo he was near being deprived
of; for on the road, a few miles from London, I was
ftopped by highwaymen, and preferved the well-meant offer-
ing, by the facrifice of my purfe, at the imminent peril of my
life. It was confidered merely as a fort of compenfation for
the diſappointment in regard of the third nights' profits,
and certainly no proof of oftentation in the Manager: on
what principle of decency then could Dr. Johnfon treat his
old Friend with that wanton infolence which he boaſts he
thought proper to indulge on the occafion ?*
To deal ingenuously and give every man fair play, the fol-
lowing paffage, particularly referred to, touching Johnſon's
animofity to Sheridan and Swift, is given from Boſwell entire :
"On Friday, March 24, 1775,-Johnſon was in high ſpirits
this evening at the club, and talked with great animation and
fuccefs. He attacked Swift, as he uſed to do upon all occa-
fions. "The Tale of a Tub' is fo much fuperiour to his
other writings, that one can hardly believe he was the au-
thor of it. There is in it fuch a vigour of mind, fuch a
fwarm of thoughts, fo much of nature, and art, and life.”
I wondered
Bofwell's Life of Dr. Johnfon, vol. ii. pp. 203, 4, 5.
48
APPENDIX.
I wondered to hear him fay of " Gulliver's Travels," " When
once you have thought of big men and little men, it is very
cafy to do the reft." I endeavoured to make a ſtand for
Swift, and tried to roufe thoſe who were much more able to
defend him; but in vain. Johnfon at laft of his own accord
allowed very great merit to the inventory of articles found
in the pocket of "the Man Mountain," particularly the de-
fcription of his watch, which it was conjectured was his
God, as he confulted it upon all occafions. He obferved,
that "Swift put his name to but two things, (after he had a
name to put,) The Plan for the Improvement of the
English Language,' and the laſt Drapier's Letter."
"From Swift, there was an eafy tranſition to Mr. Thomas
Sheridan.- JoHNSON. "Sheridan is a wonderful admirer of
the tragedy of Douglas, and preſented its author with a gold
medal. Some years ago, at a coffee-houſe in Oxford, 1 called
to him, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Sheridan, how came you to give
a gold medal to Home, for writing that foolish play?' This,
you fee, was wanton and infolent; but I meant to be wanton
and infolent. A medal has no value but as a ftamp of
merit. And was Sheridan to affume to himſelf the right of
giving that ſtamp? If Sheridan was magnificent enough to
beſtow a gold medal as an honorary reward of dramatic ex-
cellence, he fhould have requeſted one of the Univerſities to
choofe the perfon on whom it ſhould be conferred. Sheridan
had no right to give a ftamp of merit: it was counterfeit-
ing Apollo's coin."
In the paragraph immediately fucceeding the above, if
Mr. Boſwell is right in his ſtatement, the rigid ftickler for
truth not only encourages temporizing principles and duplicity,
but, in certain cafes of convenience, gives a latitude to perjury.
ADDENDA.
A D D END A.
I
(a) Preface,p. vii. DR. JOHNSON's Biographer is of opi-
I
C
nion, that the moſt minute fingularities which belonged to
him fhould not be omitted; one anecdote of that clafs,
perhaps as unaccountable as any which he has related, with
all his affiduity, has eſcaped him. It was communicated
to the writer of this article by Mr. Sheridan, of which he
himſelf had ſhortly after an opportunity of being an eye-
witnefs. Mr. Sheridan at the time lived in Bedford-street
oppofite Henrietta-ftreet, which ranges with the fouth fide
of Covent Garden, fo that the profpect lies open the whole
way free of interruption; we were ftanding together at the
drawing-room window expecting Johnſon who was to dine
there. Mr. Sheridan aſked me could I fee the length of
the garden. No, fir!' Take out your Opera-glafs, Johnſon is
coming; you may know him by his gait.' I perceived him
at a good diftance working along with a peculiar folemnity
of deportment, and an awkward fort of meaſured ſtep; at that
time the broad flagging on each fide the ſtreets was not
univerfally adopted, and ftone pofts were in faſhion to prevent
the annoyance of carriages. Upon every poſt as he paffed along,
I could obferve he deliberately laid his hand; but miffing
one of them, when he had got at ſome diſtance, he feemed
fuddenly to recollect himſelf, and immediately returning
back, carefully performed the accustomed ceremony, and re-
fumed his former courfe, not omitting one till he gained
the croffing. This, Mr. Sheridan affured me, however odd
it might appear, was his conftant practice; but why or
wherefore he could not inform me. . . Now for a dinner ſcene.
The houſe on the right at the bottom of Beaufort-build-
ings was occupied by Mr. Chamberlaine, Mrs. Sheridan's
H
1
eldeft
50
ADDENDA.
eldeft brother, by whom Johnſon was often invited in the fnug
way with the family party. At one of thofe focial meetings
Johnſon as ufual fat next the lady of the houfe; the deffert
ftill continuing, and the ladies in no hafte to withdraw,
Mrs. Chamberlaine had moved a little back from the table,
and was carelessly dangling her foot backwards and for-
wards as fhe fat, enjoying the feaſt of reafon and the flow
of foul. Johnſon the while in a moment of abſtraction was
convulfively working his hand up and down, which the
lady obferving, the roguishly edged her foot within his reach,
and, as might partly have been expected, Johnſon clenched
hold of it, and drew off her fhoe; fhe ſtarted, and haftily
exclaimed, 'O, fy! Mr. Johnfon! The company at firſt knew
not what to make of it; but one of them, perceiving the
joke, tittered. Johnſon, not improbably aware of the trick,
apologized: Nay, madam, recollect yourſelf; I know not
that I have juftly incurred your rebuke; the emotion was
involuntary, and the action not intentionally rude.'
On another occafion, the Relater of thefe Anecdotes, who
at the time refided in the houfe along with his good friend,
Mr. Chamberlaine, was near getting himſelf into a hobble:
Going rather abruptly into the drawing-room, he found.
Dr. Lucas, Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Chamberlaine with two
large folios on the table before them; Johnſon's Dictionary,
then but lately published. One of the volumes lay open,
and popping his head in among them, the first word
that caught his eye was Helter-fkelter.' 'Helter-skelter,
from Deolrren rceado, the darkneſs of hell; hell being a.
place of confufion.'. . . That's a very far-fetched etymology,
cries the youngſter; the three gentlemen ſeemed thunder-
ftruck, and ftaring at him for a moment, caft a fignificant
glance towards the window, where ftood an odd looking
+
figure,
ADDEND A.
51
}
figure, which he had not before noticed, obferving the boats
paffing on the Thames. 'Twas Johnfon! whom indeed he
did not know, and luckily for him, he feemed wholly ab-
forbed in his own contemplations. Well, young fir!' fays
Mr. Chamberlaine, again cafting an eye towards the win-
dow, 'I fuppofe you can give a better derivation.'' O yes, fir!
in an inſtant; from the Latin; hilariter celeriter, merrily and
fwiftly won't that do?' . . . No anſwer was made, but they
huftled him out of the room as faft as they could; and after-
wards, with fome judicious animadverfions on his temerity, our
flippant etymologift was made fenfible how near he was getting,
what perhaps he deferved, a good rap over the knuckles.
+
•
Mr.
As one ftory often begets another, one little Anecdote
more, and for the prefent we have done.
Chamberlaine, already mentioned, was a furgeon, eminent
in his profeffion; for many a long year the Oracle of the
Grecian coffee-houſe, and the delight of the young Templars,
particularly from Ireland; for he was a humouriſt and dearly
loved a quibble. In the year 1758, MR. WHYTE, of Grafton-
freet, Dublin, opened his Seminary for Education. Several
of his friends honoured him with particular attention on
the occafion, and, according to good old cuftom, made him
preſents towards houfe-keeping; among the reſt Mr. Cham-
berlaine ſent him a very handſome Tea-cheft with an infcrip-
tion on a filver plate neatly let into the lid,
"TU DOCES,"
Thou teacheſt; a profeffional allufion, by conſtruction in the
dialect of punſters-thou tea-cheſt.
The Author of the Curiofities of Literature, printed
Anno 1784, mentions a fimilar device, which, according to
the relation," has been lately given by the ingenious Harry
Erskine, who infcribed on his Tea-cheft the following
words".
"TU DOCES."
"Thefe,
52
ADDEND A.
"Thefe, however inapplicable they may appear, when
tranſlated into our vernacular tongue run thus-
"THOU TEA CHEST."
"The fecond perfon fingular of the verb, docere, making
a very neat pun of the fubftantive Tea-cheft."
Cur. of Literature, London, vol. i. p. 564.
Mr. Chamberlaine has evidently the advantage of Mr.
Erskine in two material points, viz. precedence as to time,
and aptitude in the application: and after all, like moſt
travelling Anecdotes, as Voltaire fays of Columbus's Egg, it
may have been told of others. So Wyllyam of Cloudeſlé,
a famous old Engliſh Archer, fhot the apple off his fon's
head, before William Tell, the celebrated Swifs, was born.
The fame is recorded of one Tocho, a Goth.
'Pha!' cries the critic, this is abfolute trifling; what in the
name of common fenfe has all this to fay to Johnſon? Why
nothing, fir! it has nothing to fay to Johnfon: 'tis a mere
bagatelle, brought in head and ſhoulders, one ſcarce can tell
why; but before you cenfure, by way of apologue, apply
it, and fee if many of the ftories ferioufly obtruded by Mr.
Boſwell, ay! and by greater clerks than he, don't come pre-
ciſely under the ſame deſcription.
-
(1) page 13.-Corporeal notice, as meditated against the
reprobated tranflator of Offian,... Mr. Bofwell, who can fel-
dom be accuſed of nationality, on the circumftance alluded
to, fays at this time the controverfy concerning the
pieces publiſhed by Mr. James Macpherſon, as tranſlations
of Offian, was at its height. Johnfon had all along denied
their authenticity, and what was ftill more provoking to
their admirers, maintained that they had no merit. The
fubject having been introduced by Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Blair,
relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, afked
Dr. Johnfon, whether he thought any man of modern age
could
ADDEND A.
53
could have written fuch pocins? Johnfon replied, "Yes, fir!
many men, many women, and many children;' this is given
as his ferious opinion; but we are yet to learn, whether it is
meant as a ſpecimen of his venerated friend's judgment,
or his inviolable regard to truth. It is certain however
that Dr. Johnſon plumed himſelf highly on his own faga-
city on that occafion, as well as on the detection of the
Cock-lane Ghoft, which after all he did not, detect ;* and
maintained his affertions with an afperity of language unbe-
coming a philofopher: we ſhall venture to oppofe him with
a different opinion; an opinion which the Doctor himſelf
might have bowed to without diſparagement, though not
accompanied with fo much rage. Hear what Dr. Young
fays in his memoir relating to thoſe poems; addreſſed to
the Royal Iriſh Academy, of which that gentleman is a dif-
tinguiſhed member, and one of its brighteſt ornaments.
alfo made a tour to the Highlands.
He
"The
* Boſwell in his accustomed mode of prefacing, with a pompous flouriſh
on his illuftrious friend's fagacity, vol. i. pp. 370, 1, 2, gives the tale of
this famous detection as it appeared in the Public Papers, written by the
Sage himſelf, ſetting forth, in fubitance, as follows: that he, affifted by
many others of rank and character, paid a vifit to a little girl, fuppofed
to be diſturbed by a fpirit, and having examined the matter with a
jealous attention, did ask certain queftions, which the ſaid ghoft,
as we may well prefume, not conceiving itſelf obliged to anſwer inter-
rogatories, did not think convenient to reply to; upon which the gentle-
men, who thus examined the evidence, being fatisfied of its falfity (not
having uttered a ſingle fyllable) came to the following refolution, which,
referring to the ſtatement, verbatim runs thus:
"It is, therefore, the opinion of the whole affembly, that the child
has fome art of making or counterfeiting a particular noife, and that
there is no agency of any higher caufe."
He was of opinion it was a trick, and fo were thoufands befides; but
what the particular art or contrivance of the little female Breßlaw was,
remains in its priftinc obfcurity to this day. Call you that detection?
54
ADDEND A.
"The great intereſt which has for many years been
taken in the controverfy concerning the authenticity of Mr.
M'Pherſon's Offian, made me defirous of collecting all the
information in my power, during my excurfion through the
Scottish Highlands in the Summer of 1784. The following
poems are part of the collection which I made at the time;
and notwithſtanding Mr. Hill has done fo much towards
bringing this warmly-coutefted queftion to a decided iffue;
I imagined they might throw fome new additional light
on the fubject. I have therefore ventared to lay them
before the Academy, with translations and a few explanatory
notes."
"Mr. M.Pherſon is by many fuppofed to be the fole and
original Author of the Compofitions which he has publiſhed
as tranflations of the Works of Offian; this charge I am en-
abled to refute, at least in part, having fortunately met
with the Originals of fome of them. Mr. McPherſon, I
acknowledge, hath taken very great liberties with them;
retrenching, adding and altering as he judged proper: but
we must admit that he has difcovered great ingenuity in
theſe variations.”
And fpeaking of his own tranflation he farther fays. . . .
"Upon the whole, I believe no errors of material confequence
have eſcaped me; but if there be ſuch, the originals are at
hand, by which they may be corrected; fome of which," he
tells us, tr
are current in Ireland, and to be ſeen amongſt the
Iriſh Manuſcripts in the Library of the College of Dublin.”
Tranfactions of the Royal Irish Academy, Dublin 1787,
Vol. i. under the head of Antiquities, page 43 paflim.
An Irishman, we fee, has candour and honefty enough
to acknowlege merit and do juftice to Mr. Macpherſon, while
his countryman Bofwell complaifantly abandons the cauſe,
and
ADDENDA.
3.5
and joins iffue with his adverſary. Dr. Johnfon, whatever
he might really think of Swift, would hardly call this gentle-
nian a very fhallow fellow :" but he was a particular
man, and there is no fwearing what he might be tempted to.
CC
Mr. Macpherfon, it feems, having heard of fome illiberal
attacks on his character made behind his back by Dr. Johnſon,
thought fit to remonftrate by letter, which letter is however
conveniently kept out of fight, fo that we are left to imagine
the contents; a ſtrong foundation for doubts and ſurmiſes,
where a point was to be gained. Mr. Bofwell, as you are
to fuppofe, fcrupuloufly accurate in his account, gives us
verbatim the fage's reply; the fubftance of which, conveyed
in very appofite terms, is that he would cudgel him. Mr.
Bofwell's illuftrious friend appears now upon the ſtage in a
new character, and his minute Biographer is at fome pains
to convince his readers, that he was no lefs able than willing
to perform it; " for having provided himſelf with a proper
implement, I have no doubt," faith his paper champion,
"but he would have made his corporal prowess be felt
as much as his intellectual." To put the matter be-
yond controverfy, as deeds fpeak louder than words, he cor-
roborates his opinion by the relation of fome half dozen
inftances; feveral of them ludicrous enough, of which, cour-
teous Reader! if haply thou haft not feen the book, the
following will give thee a delectable idea.
"In the Play-houſe at Lichfield, Johnſon having quitted
a chair that was placed for him behind the ſcenes, a gentle-
man took poffeffion of it, and on Johnſon's return, rudely
refuſed to give it up; Johnfon laid hold of it, and toffed
him and the chair into the pit.". . . . The gentleman could
not, one ſhould think, be very rudely difpofed, who could
fo
$
56
ADDENDA.
fo complaifantly fit quiet, and without ftruggle fubmit to
fo unceremonious and awkward an exhibition. And, con-
fidering the uncouthneſs of the vehicle, and the diſtance
they muſt have been at from the front of the ſtage, which
the great man had to carry the audacious ufurper, together
with the width of the orchestra, to fay nothing of the
Doctor's vifual incapacity and the elevation of the chevaux-
de-frife between that and the pit, I think we may fairly
cry, bounce!. . . There are moreover a few little items
growing out of the queſtion; as the trefpafs upon decency
and the reſpect due to the audience, fome of whom might
have materially fuffered under the preffure of fuch an un-
expected intrufion; and, as they could not well be mafter
of the jeft, judging by appearances, they might have been
prompted to eſpouſe the quarrel of the party aggrieved, and
in the way of fummary juftice have ſhown Goliath a trick
worth two of it. In a neighbouring kingdom not impro-
bably it would have paffed for fheer fun; they order
matters better in Britain. It was a manifeſt breach of the
peace, and cognizable by another juriſdiction, to which the
gentleman moſt likely would have reforted. We have a caſe
very much in point before us... Vide the mafter of Auchenleck's
reports, vol. ii. p. 171.-Johnfon verfus Macpherſon..." Any
violence offered I fhall do my best to repel, and what I can-
not do for myſelf the law fhall do for me. I hope I ſhall
never be deterred from detecting what I think a cheat
by the menaces of a ruffian."-The plea of refufing a
chair, we apprehend, would have appeared but a lame ex-
cufe, before a jury, for a fractured ſkull or a diſlocated limb.
What ſays Mr. Bofwell? he is a lawyer; is the cafe altered?
Nay, fir! Johnfon; Johnſon, fir! may fay or do any thing.'
What
.
کی
ADDEND A.
57-
What effect Mr. Bofwell's intimidating picture of Johnſon
produced on the mind of Macpherſon we are not told;
probably it never tranfpired; that it would have been
laughed at by Sheridan numbers of his contemporaries yet
living, I think, will readily believe. Records, no lefs authen-
tic than Mr. Bofwell's, are in being, which greatly favour
the preſumption; the picture they afford of him may be no
unfuitable companion to hang up with that of Johnſon, and
though but a ſketch, in the eye of a connoifeur, will hardly
appear to diſadvantage.
It muſt in the first place be honeftly confeffed that we
have no inſtance on record of Sheridan's excellency at club-
law; cudgel-playing was not his forte. The gentlemen of
his country are wont to refort to other weapons, a cuſtom,
every thinking creature muſt acknowlege, more honoured
in the breach than the obfervance, at which, however, if it
were his cue to fight, Johnſon would have had but little
chance. The records before referred to, mention one.
two notorious facts; which Mr. Bofwell, as they tend to
illuftrate his kind friend's true character, probably never
honoured with a perufal. It is there faid, that when fome
captious blades, the leaders of a defperate party, wantonly at-
tacked him in his profeffion, ftepping forward, he anſwered
their outrage publicly from the ſtage, with the moſt becom-
ing fpirit and propriety: This fo exafperated the principal
ringleader, that he afterwards rushed in behind the fcenes,
and forced his way to his dreffing-room, where he met with
the chaſtiſement his brutal arrogance" richly deferved.
And now the Lawyers came in for their fhare of the quarrel.
The Gentleman who began the affair was taken up for affault-
ing Mr. Sheridan, and Mr. Sheridan was indicted for aſſault-
ing and beating the Gentleman. . . . . Nobody at that time
}
I
would
58
ADDENDA.
{
would believe, that a Jury could be found in Dublin that would
find a Gentleman guilty. However they were miſtaken. ...
Lord Chief Juſtice Marlay, who prefided on the bench, was
the decided fupporter of order and decorum. Packed juries
had no buſineſs in his court; and the fheriffs, agreeable to
their inſtructions, could impanel none but able and fufficient
jurors, at their peril.
The day of trial came on.
Mr. Sheridan appeared as
the first culprit, and was tried for affaulting and beating
the Gentleman, as Mr. Kelly was conftantly called in the
difpute. But it appearing fully to the Jury, on the oaths
of three or four men, whofe honefty was unquestionable,
that the Gentleman gave the Manager fuch abufive and pro-
voking language in his dreffing-room, as compelled him
to beat him out of it, and that no other perfon touched him,
the Jury acquitted the prifoner without going out of the
box.
Then the Gentleman appeared at the bar. . . . In the courſe
of the trial Mr. Sheridan was called upon the table, and,
while he was anſwering the queſtions propoſed to him, a
very eminent though not a very mannerly counsellor, on
the fide of the prifoner, faid, "he wanted to ſee a curiofity;
I have often ſeen, continued he, a gentleman foldier, and a
gentleman taylor, but I have never feen a gentleman player."
Mr. Sheridan, without the leaft embarraffment, modeftly
bowed, and faid, " Sir, I hope you fee one now." A loud
murmur of applauſe ran through the court, and the coun-
fellor, notwithſtanding his effrontery, fat down abaſhed, and
never aſked him another queſtion. In fhort, the JURY
found the GENTLEMAN prifoner guilty, and the ſentence
was a fine of five hundred pounds, and three months impriſon-
ment.
•
•
The
ADDEND A.
5.9
The following paragraph is added, not fo much as it
refpects Mr. Sheridan, as for the uſeful leffon it conveys to
thoſe who are fond of rufhing into fcrapes, and fhews, in
the hour of difficulty, what reliance they can have on friends
who are involved in a bad caufe.
This Mr. Kelly, when the law-fuit commenced, imagined
he ſhould be liberally fupported, and hundreds fubfcribed to
carry it on; but upon conviction he found himſelf wholly
deferted, and after fuffering fome time in confinement, be-
came fo thoroughly fenfible of his error, that at laſt he was
obliged to apply to Mr. Sheridan, who inſtantly folicited
Government to relinquish the fine of 500l. which was granted
him, and he became folicitor and bail himſelf to the Court
of King's Bench for the enlargement of the Gentleman.
Thus, ample redrefs was procured for the Manager and
Actors, by obtaining that refpect to be paid to the fcenes of
the Theatre Royal in Dublin, which no other Theatre, till
then, had the happineſs to maintain: for, from that hour,
not even the firſt man of quality in the kingdom ever aſked
or attempted to get behind the ſcenes; and before that happy
æra, every perſon who was maſter of a ſword, was ſure to
draw it on the ſtage door-keeper, if he denied him entrance.
And thus was the long ufurped tyranny of a ſet of wanton
and diffolute gentlemen (the greateſt nuiſance that any
city ever groaned under) effectually fubdued, and the rights
of the more decent and orderly part of the community re-
covered by the ſpirit and firmneſs of the Manager, judicially
feconded by a worthy Lord Chief Juftice and an honeſt
Jury.
This is but a very brief abftract of Hitchcock's relation
of the facts at large, incorporated into his work, from the
hiftory
60
ADDEND A.
history of the time given by Mr. Victor, a gentleman of
learning and unimpeached veracity, who was himſelf pre-
fent, and a party concerned in the feveral tranſactions related.
The trial is on record, and numbers of living witneffes can
juftify the Facts. Befides the prefent purpoſe, it alſo
fhews how very unlikely Sheridan was to bear unnoticed
that wanton infolence, mentioned on another occafion, with
which Doctor Johnſon boaſted he intentionally treated his
old friend in a public coffee-houſe at Oxford..... See
Bofwell, vol. i. pp. 204, 5.
If I have been prolix on this occafion, the admirers of
Mr. Boſwell muft allow, it was with a good example be-
fore me.
It was not however to exalt a favourite at the
expence of others, but fimply to do juftice and fet an injured
character in a proper point of view.
• •
(2) page 16.—Dr. Johnſon had been tried and found wanting...
"He accepted of an offer to be employed as ufher in the ſchool
of Market Bofworth, and after a few months he relinquished
a fituation which all his life afterwards he recollected with
the ſtrongeſt averfion, and even a degree of horrour.". . . .
[Boſwell, vol.4. pp. 5, 690.]. "He fet up a private
academy at Edial, near his native city; but the only pupils
that were ever put under his care were the celebrated David
Garrick, his brother George, and a Mr. Offely.... But he
was no more fatisfied with his fituation as Maſter of an Aca-
demy, than that of the Ufher of a School, and did not keep
it above a year and a half." [Ibid. pp. 72, 73.] Again, "He
felt the hardship of writing for bread, and was therefore
willing to reſume the office of a School-mafter." Accord-
ingly we find his friends foliciting for him a Maſter of Arts'
Degree, to qualify him for a Free School of 60l. per Ann.
in Shropſhire.... Pope recommended him to Earl Gower,
who
ADDEND A.
61
• • •
who endeavoured to procure for him a Degree from Dublin,
by a letter (which is in print) to a friend of Dean Swift, en-
treating him to uſe his intereſt with the Dean, " to perſuade
the Univerſity of Dublin to fend a Diploma to him [Earl
Gower] conftituting this poor man Maſter of Arts in their
Univerfity." [Ibid. pp. 107, 8, 9, 10.]. His difappoint-
ment in this laft attempt has been imputed partly to fome
negligence or remiffness of Swift's, on the bare fuppofition
of which, for it no where was ever proved, Johnfon could
never afterwards endure him. Now on the other hand,
changing fituations and fuppofing the cafe Swift's, and that
he had perfifted in fuch contumelious treatment of Jolinfon,
Mr. Bofwell with perfect compofure would ſay, "I have no
feeling for ſuch perſevering reſentment;" or poffibly in his
more fplenetive moments he might have had recourſe to his
favourite expedient, "the lafh of wit."
•
Neither was Sheridan wanting in Academic honours. He
was Mafter of Arts in three of the moſt learned Univerſities
of Europe, Oxford, Cambridge and Dublin; in the latter of
which, his Alma-Mater, he was regularly matriculated, and
obtained the diſtinction in due courfe of gradation, where
the qualifications are by no means trifling, and the examina-
tions fingularly fevere. In the year 1758 he paid a viſit
in his literary capacity to Oxford, and immediately on his
arrival in that renowned feat of eminent profeffors, he was
diſtinguiſhed with unuſual attention; and on Tueſday No-
vember 28th, was admitted in congregation to the degree of
Maſter of Arts. In a fubfequent vifit foon after to the
fifter Univerſity, Cambridge, he experienced the like ho-
nourable reception, and had the fame degree conferred on
him there alfo. At Edinburgh he was honoured with the
Freedom of the City, which was prefented to him by the
hands
62
ADDEND A.
ļ
hands of Dr. Robertſon, the celebrated profeffor of hiſtory, &c.
This is fcarcely compatible with the idea of Sheridan, which
Mr. Boſwell endeavours to imprefs upon the minds of his
readers, on the authority of the irrefragable Doctor.
In the European Magazine for December 1788, p. 410,
we are told, Mr. Sheridan's first appearance on the Stage
was on the 20th of January 1743. In this ſtatement there
is a ſmall miſtake, probably an error of the prefs. Mr.
Hitchcock, from whoſe Work the account is taken, p. 128,
fays: "On the 29th of January 1742-3, the part of Richard
was attempted by a young gentleman at Smock-alley Theatre.
This attempt fucceeded beyond the moſt fanguine expecta-
tions of the friends of our young candidate for fame, and
equalled any firſt effay ever remembered by the oldeſt per-
formers on the Irish Stage. Thus encouraged, our adven-
turer a few days after undertook the character of Mithridates
in the Tragedy of that name; in which he ſo amply con-
firmed public opinion, that he threw off the difguife, and
was ſhortly after announced to the town for a fecond per-
formance of Richard, by the name of Mr. Sheridan. . . . .
Like Garrick he at firft fhone forth a finifhed Actor, and at
once attained the heights which many others ſpend years in
labouring to gain... Mr. Sheridan was born in the
year 1719, and early diſcovering figns of genius, was at a
proper age fent to Westminftcr-ſchool, where he remained
till he was prepared to enter the Univerſity of Dublin.
After going through his ftudies with great eclat, and taking
his degrees, he quitted College. The profeffion he em-
•
braced, involved the greatest part of his life in a perpetual
reund of anxious toil, and unceafing fatigue, wherein he ex-
perienced every fpecies of ingratitude and perfidy."
The
1
ADDEND A.
63
The conductor of the periodic work, cited in the preceding
paragraph, ſpeaking of Mr. Sheridan, p. 327, fays :-" About
1764 he went to France, and took up his refidence at Blois by
order of his Majefty, as has been afferted," and for this affertion,
he quotes the correfpondence of Wilkes and Horne, p. 76.
The Author of the Biographia Dramatica, article Sheridan,
alfo alledges the fame reafon, his Majefty's order, for Mr.
Sheridan's retiring to France. Upon what principle his Majeſty
ſhould have interfered in the buſineſs, or for what end fuch
a notion was propagated, I am at a lofs to explain. It was
the perfecution of his mercilefs creditors that drove him
thither, as was ſtated in the application to the Iriſh Houſe of
Commons, not his Majefty's order; and that Mr. Sheridan
could in any wife have authorized fuch an idle report is fuf-
ficiently refuted by his letters.
In thoſe Memoirs of his Life, by no means ill written, it is
alfo afferted, that " in 1776 he acted feveral nights at Covent
Garden; after this he never performed again as an Actor.”
This is another proof among thoufands how little is known in
England of what is really going on in the fifter kingdom,
and affords a uſeful leffon, not to rely with implicit confidence
on the accounts given of foreign tranfactions and more re-
mote periods. Mr. Sheridan performed as an Actor in
Dublin in the year 1776 and 1777. He never played as a
falary performer; but from a principle of equity, relying
folely upon his own powers, after he quitted the helm, and
without laying the manager under any difficulties, he played
always on fhares, and without any tie on either fide, but that
of mutual advantage. The following account of what accrued
fingly to Mr. Sheridan from his performance, within the ſpace
of nine months, four of which the houſe was ſhut, during
his
La
64
ADDENDA.
his laft campaign in Dublin, corroborates our affertion, and
proves to demonſtration the eſtimation he was held in.
Theatre Royal, Crow-ftreet,- Mr. Sheridan's dividends.
1776, June 15
Hamlet
40 I II
20
King Lear
36 16
-6
25
Cato
41
15
9.
30
Richard the 3d
43 о
о
Novem. II
King Lear
43
6
II
11/1/2
18
Earl of Effex
28
7
11/1/20
22
Double Dealer
24 ク
​25
Cato
31
14
7
29
Richard the 3d
19
6
罎
​Decem. 2
Hamlet
39 19
O
6-
Double Dealer
19 2
2
9
Merchant of Venice
39
12
16
Provoked Hufband
45
2
7 2
9
20
Merchant of Venice
24 II
OZ
1777, Jan. 27
King John
48 19
4
31
Roman Father
37
I2
II
February 3
King John
7
Macbeth
ΤΟ
Cato
34 2
47 14 II
14 8 52/2
9212
14
Careless Hufband (*)
106 15
IO
24
Macbeth
38
5
8
28
King John
3 ΙΟ 11/1/
March 5
Merchant of Venice
29
3
I
12/1
ma Ma
7
Henry the 8th
7
6
3
14
Hamlet (*)
121
8
4
Total accruing to Mr. Sheridan £966 13 5
Nearly 401. per night, upon an average, including twe
Benefits. (*) Adventitious circumftances in his favour there
were none; novelty, that moſt powerful charm, was utterly
out
ADDEND A.
65
out of the queftion; Mr. Sheridan was in an advanced period
of life, near fixty; thirty-five years of which he had ſpent
in the fervice of the Public, and of that time by far the
greateſt part in Dublin, his native city, where of courſe his
appearance was familiar. The Theatre was not then in
the firſt ſtyle of faſhionable amufentents; confequently in
its wane, and the company by no means a ftrong one: add
to this the acting proprietor's private diftreffes, and the
difadvantages he laboured under as to the collateral aids of
mufic and decorations, and it must be allowed, fuch fignal
evidence of public attention, produced by the fole attraction.
of an individual, is a confirmation of no common merit.
-
He afterwards went to the country for his health, and
played the fummer feafon in Cork, with equal advan-
tage to his reputation, and proportionally ſuperior in point
of profit; yet the author of the Memoirs of the Life of
Mr. Sheridan, already cited, affures us he played at Covent
Garden, in the year 1776, "and never after this performed
again as an actor.' So much for the faith of Hiſtory!
The preceding account of the emolument arifing to
Mr. Sheridan, from his twenty-five nights of performance,
was communicated to the writer by Samuel Guinneſs, Eiq,
Mr. Sheridan's confidential friend on the occafion, who re-
ceived the money for him, whoſe return, in his own hand-
writing, now lies before me, from which the above is
literally copied. It is alſo to be farther obſerved, in juſtice to
Mr. Ryder, then Manager, that on account of the low ſtate of
his company, having no capital performer, particularly in the
tragic line, to fecond him, the expence of the Houſe, which
was generally rated at fixty pound a night, was reduced,
and charged only fifty pound a night to Mr. Sheridan.
The following is the advertiſement of his laft appearance
în Hamlet, above mentioned, announced as ufual in Faulkner's,
K
the
}
}
66
ADDENDA.
}
í
1
the Freeman's, and the Hibernian Journal, in which not one
additional name appears to enhance the repreſentation, from
which a pretty adequate idea may be formed of the ſtrength,
or rather weakneſs, of the company.
FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. SHERIDAN.
THEATRE-ROYAL, CROW-STREET.
THIS EVENING,
FRIDAY, MARCH THE 14TH, 1777,
WILL BE PRESENTED THE TRAGEDY OF
H A M
L E T.
THE PART OF HAMLET BY MR. SHERIDAN,
BEING POSITIVELY THE LAST NIGHT OF HIS PERFORMING --
THIS SEASON.
TO WHICH WILL BE ADDED,
THE CITI
CITIZEN.
YOUNG PHILPOT MR. RYDER.
BEFORE THE FARCE, A PRELUDE.
MARIA IN THE CITIZEN, AND THE LADY IN
THE PRELUDE, MISS BARSANTI.
After the Play Mr. Sheridan, by defire, will recite
DRYDEN'S CELEBRATED
ODE ON THE POWER OF MUSIC.
PLACES FOR THE BOXES TO BE TAKEN OF MR. CULLEN.
THE HOUSE TO BE
ILLUMINATED WITH WAX.
By
1
ADDEND A.
67
By way of contraft, let us now turn our eyes, for a
moment, on another period of Theatric hiftory. The re-
trofpect is not void of utility; it is perfectly confonant to
our ſubject, and cannot but be intereſting to the amateur.
The Theatre in Crow-ftreet, Dublin, was erected under
the aufpices of Spranger Barry, Efq. in oppofition to Sheridan.
Monday the 23d of October 1758, the houſe opened with
the Kind Impoftor, a Comedy by Cibber, under the conduct
of Meffrs. Barry and Woodward, joint Managers; and
Mr. Sheridan, who was then in England, from fome heavy
loffes and diſappointments he had fuftained, declining to
come over, Smock-alley was in no condition to make head
againſt them, ſo that fuccefs and fortune feemed wholly at
their devotion. They had the advantage of novelty in all
points; a new and fplendid Theatre; a rich and capital
wardrobe, a felect and well-appointed company, an excellent
band, their own perfonal confequence, youth, beauty, and
every imaginable attraction in their favour. Mr. Barry, one
of the fineſt and moſt intereſting figures in nature, at the
acme of his profeflion in the Tragic walk, was ſcarcely
turned of forty, and Woodward, with his coffers full of
guineas, a no lefs diftinguished favourite in the Comic ſcene,
in the meridian of life. Mrs. Dancer [the celebrated Mrs.
Crawford] rapidly rifing into fame; Mrs. Fitzhenry in her
zenith; Mrs. Jefferſon, and a long et cætera of accomplished
heroines, one fhould think, of themfelves fufficient to enfure
their triumph; accordingly the clofe of the feafon faw the
new Managers in unrivalled poffeffion, exulting in the pleni-
tude of Theatric power. But it is the fucceeding ſeaſon we
have now more immediately in view. In the opinion of the
moſt diſcerning moral and political writers, the deareſt
interefts of fociety are influenced by the ftate of public
amufements,
{
68
ADDEND A.
amufements, and the flourishing condition of a Theatre is con-
fidered as one of the ftrongest proofs of the civilization and
profperity of a people. The feafon referred to, commencing
with the Winter of the year 1759, and ending in 1760, is de-
fcribed as one of the moft brilliant and fucceſsful ever known
with Ireland, and for that reafon, the most worthy of notice;
befides, the Author, having by a fingular accident obtained
the only authentic document on the fubject, has it in his
power, not only to afcertain to a fhilling the grofs amount
of the money received that memorable ſeaſon, but farther
to gratify curiofity with a fpecification of the particular
receipts of fourteen of their moſt ſplendid exhibitions.
The Managers having fuccefsfully completed their re-
cruiting buſineſs in England, and along with other capital
acquifitions, having added Mr. Moffop to their forces, who
was then, as Davies fays, eftecmed in London the ſheet-
anchor of Tragedy, and the reigning favourite next to Garrick,
they returned with expectations as fanguine and as flattering
as the warmest fancy could fuggeft. That thofe expectations
were founded on reafon and probability, will be ſeen by a
flight review of their recommendations. Their company,
as Hitchcock not unwarrantably defcribes it, was, perhaps,
the ſtrongeſt, and beſt formed, of any hitherto beheld in
Ireland. High in public favour, their credit eſtabliſhed, a
new Theatre, an excellent wardrobe; they had every ad
vantage which could be derived from a combination of cir-
cumftances fo fortunate. To crown theſe, and give anima-
tion to the whole, they were in a very eminent degree pof-
fcffed of every influence which the court could give. Robert
Wood, Efq. then Maſter of the Revels, in this kingdom, ap-
pointed Mr. Barry and Mr. Woodward, his deputies, by
which Crow-ftreet became the Theatre-Royal. He alfo
conferred upon them the office of directors of his Majeſty's
Band,.
1
1
ADDEND A.
bg
Band; a poſt indeed of more honour than profit. The Duke
of Dorfet then Lord Lieutenant, who was remarkably popu-
lar, and the Duchefs, were peculiarly fond of the Theatre,
and honoured it with their prefence generally once or twice
a week during the ſeafon.
Thus powerfully prepared, they took the field, and the
houſe opened Wedneſday, October 3d, 1759. Every thing
feemed to wear a propitious afpect at the New Theatre-
Royal, Crow-ſtreet ; neither pains nor expence was ſpared in
The Tragedies
preparing the pieces for reprefentation.
were got up in a ftyle of fuperior fplendour. The expence
of the mere guards in Coriolanus amounted to £3. 10. per
night. The guards and chorus fingers in Alexander to 81.
The force of the
The acting of the Tragedies was firſt rate.
two heroes of the buſkin, (and never were two tragedians of
fuch uncommon excellence whofe abilities better accorded)
was aided by the powerful attractions of Mrs. Dancer and
Mrs. Fitzhenry. A fpecimen or two will fhew the ftrength
of their reprefentations: as, Othello, Mr. Barry; Roderigo,
Mr. Woodward; Caffio, Mr. Dexter; Brabantio, Mr.
Walker; Iago, Mr. Moffop; Defdemona, Mrs. Dancer;
and Emilia, Mrs. Fitzhenry. Venice Preferved. Pierre,
Mr. Moffop; Jaffier, Mr. Barry; Belvidera, Mrs. Dancer.
In Jane Shore: Haftings, Barry; Dumont, Moffop; Jane
Shore, Mrs. Dancer; Alicia, Mrs. Fitzhenry. All for Love:
Anthony, Barry; Dolabella, Dexter; Ventidius, Moffop;
Octavia, Mrs. Dancer; Cleopatra, Mrs. Fitzhenry. Theſe,
with Mr. Woodward's excellent Pantomines, brought out
in the higheſt perfection, were deferving every encourage-
ment. Almoſt every night produced fome novelty; and
fometime before the cloſe of the ſeaſon, Mrs. Abington, that
elegant and faſhionable Actreſs, as Bofwell justly ftyles her
in his life of Johnfon, joined the ſtandards of Crow-street.
}
Mr.
}
70
ADDEND A.
Mr. William Barry, the Manager's brother, was Treaſurer
to the Theatre; his receipt-book is now in my poffeffion,
from which the following account of the receipts of the
ſeaſon of 1759, 60, is extracted; from a view of which, com-
pared with what Sheridan alone drew in the laſt year of his
performance, it muſt be neceffarily admitted, that the ac-
counts given of his theatrical conſequence, however deprecia-
ted by Johnſon and Bofwell, are not exaggerated.
1760, June 4th, Produce of 163 plays acted
this feafon, per Treaſurer's Book
From Government for three plays
Ditto
•
one play
£11621 13 6/5/2
90 O
22 15 о
Total amount, Govermt. plays included, £ 11734 8 65
Receipts of the laft 14 Plays, viz.
May 7, Barbaroffa, Moffop's Benefit
9, Winter's Tale
10, Julius Cæfar
12, Winter's Tale
133 II 6
109 19 24
94 IO 5
40 17 II
30 15 4
14, Julius Cæfar, 2d night
16, ConſciousLovers,F. Mafons'Nt.
17, Recruiting Officer, Command
19, Double Dealer
149 о
3
57 18 I
12
15
8
22, Provoked Huſband,Mrs. Abington 129 4 IO
23, Othello
28, Richard the Third
29, Earl of Effex
59
7 4
29 12 7
65 3 3/2
30, The Revenge
June 4, Committee,Government Play-
For ditto, from Government
45
7 IO
4 6
8
22 15 о
Total produce of 14 plays
£ 985
5 10/
Advantage on the fide of Sheridan
683 19 11/2
I
Amount of Sheridan's 14 nights, per contra £1669 5 O
Receipts
!
1
$
ADDEND A.
71
Receipts of 25 plays in which Mr. Sheridan was concerned
the laſt year of his performance in Dublin, taken from the
books of the theatre, under the management of Ryder.
1776, June 15, Hamlet
130 3 10
20, King Lear
123 13 0
25, Cato
133 II 6
30, Richard the Third
Nov. 11, King Lear
18, Earl of Effex
136 13 11
136
136 0 ว
106 15 II
22, Double Dealer
98 15
7
25, Cato
113 9
2
29, Richard the Third
88 12
5
Dec. 2, Hamlet
129 18
о
6, Double Dealer
88
4
4
£ 1285 17 8
5
5
6
Produce of II plays
9, Merch. of Venice 129
16, Provoked Husband 140 4 4
20, Merch. of Venice
1777, Jan. 27, King John
31, Roman Father
Feb. 3, King John
7, Macbeth
IO, Cato
14, Carelefs H.Benefit
24, Macbeth
28, King John
March 5, Merch. of Venice
99 2 I
147 18 8
125 5 10
118 5 7
145 9 II
78 16 11
156 15 10
126 II
4
57 I II
108 6 3
64 12
6
14, Hamlet, Benefit
171
8
4
7, Henry the Eighth
Amount of 14 plays
Total amount of Sheridan's 25 nights
£ 1669 50
£ 2955
2 8
Thus
t
72
ADDEND A.
Thus Mr. Sheridan, even in life's decline, and the no lefs de-
clining fate of the Drama, unfupported as he was, in fourteen
nights drew 6831. 19s. 1dh. or 481. Ios. per night, more
than in the ſame number of nights was produced by the
united powers of Crow-freet, in one of the moſt brilliant
feafons, according to theatric annals, ever known in Ireland.
Should it be faid that the receipts of Mr. Sheridan's nights
are enhanced by two benefits, it muſt be alfo obferved that
the other party had three, and thoſe Mr. Moffop's, Mrs.
Abington's, and the Freemafons', with the fuperaddition of a
Command, to counter-balance them. Mr. Sheridan, on an
average, acted to houfes of upwards of 1181. per night, by
which he put about twenty-fix guineas per night into his own
purfe, exclufive of his benefits. The New Crow-freet
Luminaries, one night with another, computing on the
whole, did not bring quite feventy-two pounds per night,
which, rating any one of them on the fame fcale with
Sheridan, or all of them fucceffively, at half the profits after
fifty pound, with all their exertions and every other fortu-
nate circumſtance combined, would not produce ten guineas
per night to the individual.
Mr. Sheridan, however, who had incurred an enormous
load of debt in his endeavours to reform and establish the
Dublin Theatre, was ruined in the firft ftage of the oppofi-
tion, and his opponents did not long enjoy their triumph.
After four years conftant anxiety, fatigue and trouble, in the
year 1762, Mr. Woodward returned to his native country
with the lofs of the greatest part of his fortune, obliged to
begin the world again.* Barry held out a little longer; but
in
The fummer feafon enfuing Woodward came again to Dublin, and,
in hopes of picking up a few guineas, joined the corps of Smock-alley;
but though his first appearance was announced for a Public Charity, the
good people of Dublin, offended at fome unguarded expreffions in his,
Prologue on his appearance in Drury-lane the winter hefore, would not
fuffer him to go on with his part. This at once put an end to his
expectations in that country, from which he immediately departed,
never more to return,
!
1
ADDEND A.
13.
in his avarice of conqueft he had brought over a rod to whip
himſelf, which, the ſeaſon after, took root, and for a time
held up its head and flourished in Smock-alley; the two
houfes were again embroiled in competition, and violent were
the contentions betwixt the Capulets and the Montagues.
At length, the ſuperiour genius of Moffop prevailed. After
feven years conteſt, Mr. Barry was obliged to refign the field
to his then ſeemingly more fortunate rival; having, during
that time, experienced more chagrin, vexation, and difap-
pointment than imagination can well conceive. Haraſſed in
mind and body, he had laviſhed ſo many years of the prime
of his life, and inftead, of reaping the fruits of ſuch fhining
abilities as Nature had bleffed him with, had incurred debts
he could never diſcharge, ruined many perfons connected with
him, and involved himſelf in difficulties, which, during the
remainder of his life, he could never furmount.
A
His, I cannot call him more fuccefsful, competitor, was
not in a much more enviable fituation. His finances were
alſo greatly deranged, his credit impaired, and his reſources
nearly exhaufted. After a
After a few years fruitlefs ftruggle, his
fpirits funk under the preffure of accumulated misfortunes;
and a fevere illneſs prevented his appearing on the ſtage. In
this diftreffed fituation, he was obliged to folicit the generosity
of the Public he had fo often delighted, and a play was
announced for his Benefit, in which he was not able to per-
form. The Benefit was fixed for the 17th of April, 1771,
which, though the houfe was crowded, afforded him but a
temporary relief. His affairs were ſo deſperate, it was next
to an impoffibility for any efforts to retrieve them, and in
deſpair he relinquished Crow-ftreet to his rivals. He was
foon after arreſted in London, and committed to the King's
Bench; where, in fpite of all the efforts of his friends, he
was condemned to endure a long and fevere confinement,
and though he was at laft liberated, various and infurmount-
L
able
74
ADDEND A.
1
}
}
able difficulties prevented his ever again difplaying to the
Public thofe abilities that merited a better fate. Moffop,
in company with Edward Smith, of Jubilee, Efq. his coun-
tryman and fellow collegian, after that made the tour of
Europe; but neither change of climate, nor the confolations
of friendſhip, could miniſter to a mind difeafed, or pluck from
the memory a rooted forrow. November 1773, in great poverty,
at a miferable lodging in Chelſea, he died of a broken heart.
The ftories of Victor, and Sowdon, and Brown, and
Dawſon, and Ryder,* fucceffively exhibit but a repetition of
fimilar
}
* Mr. RYDER'S father's name was Prefwick Ryder, an Iriſhman,
and for fome time a confiderable Printer and Bookfeller in Dublin.
He was obliged to abfcond on his printing an inflammatory pamphlet
againſt Government, a Proclamation having been iffued, and a Reward of
One Thouſand Pounds offered, for apprehending him. He took on him
the name of Darby (his wife's name) and for many years was an itinerant
Comedian in England, where RYDER and his brother Samuel were born.
RYDER played at Edinburgh and feveral towns in England by that
name; but refumed his real one fome time before he came to this king-
dom. The first and fecond years of his management in Dublin, he met
with great fuccefs, and received vaft fums of nioney, exclufive of 3000l.
he got in the Exchange Scheme, a Lottery grafted on a Dutch one.
Notwithſtanding which, though no perſon ever could charge him with
being an extravagant man, he, by the Viciffitude of Time, and a Falling-
off of Theatrical bufinefs, became bankrupt, and afterwards quit this for
fome years, and played in London, Edinburgh, &c On his return to
Dublin in 1791, he was in fuch a ſtate of health, as required him to be
in the country. The means were wanting. To fupport a wife and four
children alfo required the affiftance of Friends. One of whom (the Printer
of this Work) happy in an opportunity of any way contributing to the
relief of an old and worthy Friend, had him removed to his houfe in
Sandymount, near Dublin, where he was comfortably fupported, and
reſpectful attention paid to him by himſelf and his family; and at times,
when every exertion has been made, and every nerve ftrained, to roufe
him from defpondence, and divert the ſenſe of affliction that preyed upon
his mind, and under which he lamentably funk, he would figh heavily,
and fay, "Oh, MARCHBANK! they have broke my heart." On Satur-
day, November 27, 1791, he was releaſed from his troubles, and on the
Wedneſday following he was buried in Drumcondra Church-yard, at-
tended by many of his Friends, whofe regard, alas! died with him;-
no Monument or Grave-ftone tells where his remains lie.
;
}
ADDEND A.
75
fimilar fcenes of embarraffment and diftrefs; who, in their
turn, funk under the weight of calamity, and finiſhed, like
Moffop, a miſerable exiſtence in obfcurity and want.
•
Here is room for meditation. Fond, unthinking youth!
be adviſed: truſt not the fallacious allurements of the ſtage;
it is a wilderneſs of thorns and quickfands, which affords no
reaſonable hopes of eſcaping; for, though a few who were
native there, and to the manner born, may feem exceptions,
it is indeed a comfortleſs fituation for adventurers of a dif-
ferent claſs. The men whofe cataſtrophe you have juſt
perufed, were most of them born to better profpects, richly
endowed by nature, of extraordinary talents, highly im-
proved by education, and had attained to the fummit of the
profeffion; yet diſappointment and mifery were their portion.
Upon the whole, in reſpect to the fubject of our preſent
enquiry, two inferences may be deduced:
Ift. If Mr. Sheridan could have reconciled it to his prin-
ciples of honour, and his prudence (bought by woeful ex-
perience) to run the risk of involving himſelf, and the
fortunes of his friends, in the conteft; with his abilities,
aided by the ſtrong ſupport of an excellent private character,
he might poffibly have poftponed the evil day, and turned
the tables on his adverfaries.
2d. The attempts of Dr. Johnſon to depreciate the talents
and abilities of his good old friend, as handed down to
pofterity by Bofwell, were unfupported by facts, and neither
do honour to his judgment or his heart.
}
The Writer of
the Memoirs of
† p. 374. Faulkner, whom he looke! on, &c.
I p. 384, The paragragh told prettily, Sc.
Mr. Sheridan's Life, given in the European Magazine,
Anno 1788, informs his readers, that "The following Anec-
dote appeared in the English News-papers about the year
1768."
76
ADDEND A.
CC
1768," and adds,
we give it on that authority, and in the
very words, without vouching for the truth of it, though we
believe it may be depended upon :-Laſt year Mr. Sheridan,
the actor, obtained an Iriſh Act of Parliament, protecting-him
from arrefts on account of his debts in Dublin, amounting to
fixteen hundred pounds; and having this feaſon faved eight
hundred pounds, he gave notice that he was ready to pay his
creditors ten fhillings in the pound, and defired them to call on
him for that purpoſe, with an account of their reſpective de-
mands. Mr. Faulkner, the printer of one of the Dublin papers,
was one of his creditors. This gentleman told Mr Sheridan,
that he would not trouble him with his demand till he dined
with him: Mr. Sheridan accordingly called at Mr. Faulkner's;
and after dinner Mr. Faulkner put a fealed paper into his
hand, which he told him contained his demand, at the famc
time requeſting Mr. Sheridan to examine it at his leiſure at
home: when he came home he found, under feal, a bond of
his for two hundred pounds, due to Mr. Faulkner, cancelled,
together with a receipt in full of a book debt, to the extent
of one hundred pounds.-Whether is the conduct of the
actor or printer the more generous and laudable?
1
This paragraph contains a jumble of circumſtances ill un-
derſtood, garniſhed with others that had no exiſtence but in
the writer's imagination. . . . . At the cloſe of the ſeaſon, in
May 1758, Mr. Sheridan went to London, to collect forces
for the next Winter's campaign; but in the event of fome
adverſe occurrences, finding himſelf unable for the prefent
to ftem the tide of oppofition, difgufted with the ill-treat-
ment of his fellow citizens, and weary of a profeffion he
never cordially relifhed, he relinquished the management
of Smock-alley, and remained in England for the five fuc-
ceeding years. During that interval he fupported himſelf
and family, whom at no time he neglected, in a ſtyle of genteel
་.
independence,
ADDEND A.
77
+
independence, chiefly by his literary exertions, and remitted
to Mr. Sheen, his brother-in-law, in Dublin, about five
hundred pounds, which was divided among ſuch of his cre-
ditors as applied in confequence of an advertiſement in the
public papers feveral times repeated. In 1763, the Earl,
afterwards Duke, of Northumberland, was appointed to the
Government of Ireland. This, Mr. Sheridan, having the
honour of being known to his Excellency, and ftill panting
for his native home, confidered as an aufpicious event, and ac-
cordingly prepared for his return; on Saturday November
the 5th, he arrived in Dublin, having firſt obtained a Letter
of Licence from the majority of his creditors, in which it
was ftipulated, he ſhould pay into Truſtees' hands for their
ufe, one half of whatever he fhould acquire, by acting or
otherwiſe, during his ftay there, with limitation for two
years. Barry invited him to his houſe as his gueſt, where
for a ſhort time he took up his quarters, and, purſuant to
agreement, the Friday following, November 11th, played
Hamlet to 1851. 4s. 4d. which, fharing half the profits after
60l. as fettled for each night of his performance, brought
him 62l. 175. 2d. for the firſt night. On the like conditions
he
"If this account ſhould ftartle the belief of thofe who hunt after
employments as their only refource, Mr. Sheridan begs leave to remind
them that it was not his cafe; he had it in his power to provide for
himſelf much better than the Government could. He had fet out in life
upon certain principles, early imbibed from his great mafter Swift,
which would not fuffer him to think of fuch a courfe. Among theſe,
one of the foremoſt was independence; without which there could be
no liberty. By independence he means only a reliance upon a man's
felf, and his own talents and labours, for his fupport and advancement
in life; for abfolute independence belongs not to human beings."..
"Though they who know not the value of fuch fort of independence;
though they who know not how ſweet the bread is which is earned by
the fweat of one's own brow, may not have any faith in principles of
this fort, yet furely they will give credit to a man upon their own favou-
rite maxim, that of felf-intereſt."
Sheridan's Humble Appeal to the Public, 8vo. 1758, p. 34.-
1}'
}
78
ADDEND A.
1
he continued performing till March, in all twenty-four nights,
befides benefits, and cleared upon the whole 8631. Is. Iod.
The following is the lift of plays, with Mr. Sheridan's
dividend on each, refpectively annexed.
Theatre Royal, Crow-Street.
1763, Nov. 11, Hamlet
12, Ditto
62 17 2
50 9 II
24 6 4/2
|
24
O II/1/2
17, Richard the Third
19, Ditto
21, Venice Preſerved
26, Jane Shore
28, Venice Preferved
Dec. 8, All for Love
10, Julius Cæfar
12, Hamlet
15, Othello
1764, Jan. 9, Cato
{
12, Hamlet
14, Provoked Wife
16, Richard the Third
21, Macbeth
19 13 1/2/2
31 16 5/2/2
7 17 7
11 12 10
39 16 9
94 IO 4
27 16 9/5/2
29 3 4
12
9 8
Ο Ι4 10
12 15 7/2
6 2 11
13 15 8
23, Comus
28, Ditto
14 2 24
Feb.
4, As you like it
3 16 10/1/2
15, Othello
19 15 II
II, All for Love
22 4 8
13, King John
6 18 7
18
5 0/1/2
16, Alexander
20, Julius Cæfar
To Mr. Sheridan for 24 nights
Additional ſhares and benefits
Total
4 IO
£ 559 14
5
I
303 7 9
£863 I 10
This,
ADDENDA.
79
This, in his way of proceeding, was more to the immediate
advantage of his creditors than his own; for though, on the
exprefs condition of the letter of licence, he was obliged to
hand over one half merely, 4311. Ios. IId. for their uſe, by
this exertion of his talents alone, they received 6681. 3s. od.
The
referving to his feparate difpofal only 219l. 18s. Iod
particulars of which appear in the following account, ſtated
by Mr. Knowles, his brother-in-law and agent, which, with
the original vouchers, on a former occafion depoſited with
my Father, are all now lying on my deſk.
Total receipt of Mr. Sheridan's fhares and bene-
ነ
I
fits, from Nov. 1763, to April 1764, incluſive £ 863 I 10
Cafh paid to and for the ufe of Mr. Sheridan's
creditors, viz.
Nov. 17, To J.Watfon, as per receipt
Dec. 14, To Mat. Williamfon, do.
1764.
19, To Richard Cullen, do.
30, To H. Mitchell, Efq. do.
To Tho. Adderly, Efq. do.
To fundry ſmall debts
Mar. 22, To W.Lefanu,Efq.trustee.
for the creditors, at fun-
dries, as per his receipts
To Anth. Grayfon, Efq's. attorney,
advanced by Mr. Whyte
120
30 O
II
7 6
50 о
50
5
2
21 IO
4
360
360 0
643 3
25 0 0
£668 3
Balance remaining in Mr. Sheridan's hands
Remitted to Mrs. Sheridan, per Mr. Ben-
fon's draft on Meffrs. Portis, London, for
the uſe of his family, 100l. Engliſh
Balance referved for his own ufe
May the 4th, 1764,
1
£ 219 18 10
107 17 6
£ 112 I 4
JOHN KNOWLES.
Out
1
រ
కం
ADDEND A.
Out of this flender pittance he had to pay his lodgings,
fupport himſelf and his fervant, and, on many occafions, to
provide dreffes and other articles proper for his appearance on
the ftage; the Theatrical wardrobe at that time being in a
reduced ftate, and rather fcantily fuited. This at once re-
futes the idle notion of his extravagance, induſtriouſly propa-
gated by his calumniators, and confidently afferted by many
at this day..
Several who had demands against him, as
before intimated, refuſed to ſign the letter of licence, and as
the artful and defigning are never wanting in fpecious pre-
texts, he truſted to their honour; but they lay perdue watch-
ing their opportunity, and the event proved the wiſdom of
precaution on the part of Mr. Sheridan. While he continued
playing, and was daily feeding his gaping creditors with gold,
they fuffered him to go on unmolefted; but, notwithſtanding
theſe unequivocal proofs of his integrity, immediately on the
expiration of his agreement with Barry, which cloſed with a
benefit, his quondam Printer, who held a bond of his, and
had but lately received a very handfome partial payment,
entered judgment; and without further refpite, ordered exe-
cution. My Father, fortunately, had the Sheriff's fon then
under his tuition, and through that channel got a hint of the
bufinefs, which, having previouſly fecured a paffage in a
veffel for England, he imparted to Mr. Sheridan, and hur-
ried him directly on board. He landed fafely at Parkgate,
on the last day of April 1764, and by this means, the humane
defign of arrefting him was fruſtrated.
According to the ſchedule, communicated to my Father
by Mr. Knowles, together with other papers occafionally
cited, his debts amounted to 56871. 18s. 7d. exclufive of
the mortgage on Quilca, and fome others which he could not
accurately afcertain, making in all upwards of 700ol. befides
intereft,
ADDENDA.
81
}
}
*
intereft, contracted, not by extravagance and diffipation,
but, with corroding anxiety and inceffant fatigue, in the ſervice
of an ungrateful Public. The Irish Stage, before he, fatally
for himſelf, engaged in the management, was a mere Bear-
garden; by his unwearied exertions and abilities, it was
raiſed to a degree of refpectability and confequence, that
would have done honour to the moſt enlightened and poliſhed
ages.* After maintaining his fruitlefs ftruggles through a
long feries of years, at laft encountering thofe baleful hydras,
Faſhion and Caprice, his flattering hopes and all his ſhining
profpects were defeated. In 1759, with a growing family,
for whoſe welfare he was ever ardently folicitous; with an
impaired conflitution and bankrupt in his fortune, he retired
from the ſcene; and, as the Hiſtorian honourably teſtifies,
"the laſt day of his management was, in every reſpect, as
laudable and praife-worthy as the firſt."
L
M
I have
"The Stage indeed had long been in a declining condition. Salaries
were badly paid; bufinefs totally neglected, while irregularity and inde-
corum pervaded the whole. . . . . The appearance and fuccefs of a new
Actor produced fometime after the most remarkable change ever known
in the Theatrical affairs of Ireland. . . . . We must not however imagine
that all this was accomplished in a day. It was the work of years.
Perfection is only to be att d by perfeverance. . . . It may be naturally
fuppofed that at firft he had many difficulties to encounter. Bad habits,
confirmed by time, were hard to be eradicated. Performers were unuſed
to regularity and the taſte of the town was palled and vitiated. Non-
payment of falaries he knew was the radical fource of diforders; this,
at the first fetting off, and through the whole courfe of his management,
he effectually obviated; and in other respects. his methods were fo gentle,
and at the fame time fo falutary, that they carried conviction with them.
He always attended rehearſals, and fettled the bufinefs of each ſcene with
precision; not the most trifling incident preparatory to the performance
was omitted... His great judgment and perfect knowlege of his fitùa-
tion, amply qualified him for an inftructor; and his regulations were fo
proper and conveyed in fo pleafing a manner, that they were irresistible,
and could not fail to be complied with. His hi heft ambition feemed to
center in being confidered the father of his company."
EXTRACT FROM HITCHCOCK.
}
82
ADDEND A.
B
I have been the more particular in tracing the foregoing
tranſactions, and quoting the original vouchers now before
me, as it was on the ground of theſe facts the Petition to
Parliament was framed on Mr. Sheridan's behalf, by which
he became entitled to the benefit of an Act of Infolvency,
paffed in the year 1766, while he was abfent with his family
at Blois in France. To do justice, it muſt be alfo confeffed,
that the fum of 360l. as above ſpecified, paid into the hands
of the Truſtee for the Creditors, had not, when the applica-
tion to Parliament was attempted, been diſtributed; owing
to fome difficulties in the buſineſs, which without Mr. Sheridan
could not fatisfactorily be adjuſted. However, upon the
whole, the Creditors had no great reafon to complain; Mr.
Lefanu did not fuffer the money to lie dormant, nor, as a
Banker he might, apply it to his own profit. He laid it out
in Debentures, and liquidating the intereft with the principal,
when the matters in difpute were fettled, honourably handed
over to every man his fhare, which was more than could well
be expected, and fo far a reaſonable compenfation for the
delay; but in regard to the parliamentary buſineſs, it was a
circumſtance, in the firſt ſtage, of untowardly afpect, and if
not cautiously guarded againſt, might have defeated the at-
tempt. This the Petitioner was aware of, and therefore, not
to incur a greater rifk, till the laft moment concealed his
defign. That point being unexpectedly obtained, as our
readers have before feen, Mr. Sheridan quitted France,
where he had been deferted by all his wealthy and proteſt-
ing friends, whom his warm profperity had graced; and
was once more happily restored to his native land. He are
rived in Dublin the latter end of October 1766, and on
Monday, February 2d following, appeared at Crow-ſtreet in
Hamlet,
t
* See his Letter, dated Blois, Auguſt 1ſt, 1766, in a preceding page
annexed to the Remarks on Bofwell.
}
A.DDEN DA.
831
Hamlet, and continued performing there for fourteen nights,
with his ufual eclat, ending with Maſkwell in the Double
Dealer, for his own benefit. That day, after dinner, he
conſulted my Father, on the ſubject of calling a meeting of
his Creditors, a point he had had ſometime in contemplation.
My Father warmly oppofed it; conceiving it likely to involve
him in freſh embarraffments, by exciting expectations which
could not be gratified, and by implicated promiſes again en-
danger his perſonal ſafety, notwithſtanding the meaſures re-
cently adopted; upon the whole, as favouring more of often-
tation, to which my Father was in all cafes particularly averſe,
than any Good it could poffibly produce. Perhaps his fincere
wiſhes for the realhonour of Mr. Sheridan, co-inciding with a
difpofition naturally zealous, made him over earneſt in his re-
monftrances; ſome friends prefent not ſeeing, or in compliment
to Mr. Sheridan, not choofing to fee the affair in the light
nry Father took it, over-ruled the arguments he offered, and
confirmed Mr. Sheridan in his purpoſe; however, he ac-
knowleged the propriety of being guarded; and on Tueſday,
March the 24th, 1767, the following advertiſement appeared
in Faulkner's Journal.
"Mr. Sheridan defires to meet his Creditors at the Mufic-
Hall, in Fiſhamble-ftreet, on Thurſday the 2d of April, at
One o'clock, in order to concert with them the moſt ſpeedy
and effectual method for difpofing of his effects and making
a dividend."
The refult of this meeting has been already fet forth in
the courſe of the Remarks, page 376. My Father attended,
as Mr. Sheridan made it a point; but purpofely delayed till the
buſineſs of the congrefs was nearly fettled, that he might not
be called on for his opinion. Soon after his entrance, Mr.
Sheridan, who was on the look-out, accofted him, Sam! I
am glad to fee you are come;' . . . my Father bowed.
perceive you are not fatisfied with the meaſure.'.
.... Indeed,
1
Sira
84
ADDEND A.
!
13
•
•
Sir, I am not. Mr. Sheridan paufed, and perhaps on
reflection, when too late, was convinced he had taken a
precipitate ſtep. A coolnefs fucceeded between the two
friends; this was fomented by the officioufneſs of others,
which occafioned a difunion of fome continuance; but not the
fmalleft appearance of animofity or recrimination occurred on
either fide; their ſpirit was above it; on the contrary,
many acts of kindneſs and mutual good offices took place in
the interval, which fhewed a wifh for the reſtoration of amity
on both fides, if any one about them had been honeſt enough
to promote it. My Father, ftill bearing in mind the obliga-
tions he owed to Mrs. Sheridan, who was the friend and
parent of his youth, continued, without abatement, his at-
tachment to her children; they, on 2 proper occafion, inter-
pofed; the parties were brought together, and their differ-
ence no more was remembered. It is to this difference be-
tween Mr. Sheridan and him, my Father alludes in his
Elegy on the Inftability of Affection, which ſtands the third
in order in the New Edition of his Poems.
One Friend, one chofen Friend, I once poffefs'd,
And did I in the hour of trial fail?
Still be his Virtues, his Deſerts confefs'd;
But o'er his lapfes, Memory, drop the Veil.
WHYTE'S POEMS, p. 119.
The laft office of kindneſs he had it in his power to render
him, was at his lodgings in Frith-ftreet, Soho. He fupported
him from his apartment down ftairs, and helped him into
the carriage that took him to Margate, where, the ninth day
after, Death obliterated every thing-but his Virtues.
An obfervation or two more and we have done.... While
Barry was ſtruggling againſt the ſtorm, which at laſt over-
whelmed him, he gained, as already noted, Mr. Sheridan
to his caufe. The receipts of his first four houſes are ſtated
by
1
ADDENDA.
85
*
by Hitchcock, by which the reader will be farther enabled
to judge of the truth of the paragraph in queſtion; premiſing,
on the fame authority, that at this period the buſineſs in ge-
neral was very bad, the rage being entirely for fing-fong and
Smock-alley. Love in a Village at Crow-ſtreet, five times
repeated, never reached 30l. fometimes not 141. other re-
ceipts have deſcended ſo low as 1ol.
nights as follows, viz.
1767, Feb. 2, Hamlet
5, Richard
9, Cato
13, Hamlet
Mr. Sheridan's first four
171 19 O
113 15 о
141'16 O
148 9 5
Total receipt of Sheridan's four nights
£ 575 19 5
The
This writer, though remarkably exact in what came within the
compaſs of his reſearch, has been led into an error reſpecting Mr. Sheridan.
He has adopted a notion, generally entertained, that Sheridan had the
honour of being Preceptor to the Queen. Mr. Sheridan, always contra-
dicted it, and declared to the contrary. One day ſpeaking on the ſubject,
he faid, "Our countrymen are fond of engroſſing imaginary diſtinctions;
it is a trait in the national character. Some years ago, the fign of Thamas
Kouli Khan, Sophi of Perfia, ftared you in the face in every corner of
Dublin, and all mouths were filled with the History and wonderful
Exploits of that fortunate Ufurper, who, incredible as it may feem, was
diſcovered to be nothing more or lefs, than an Iriſh Renegade, honeſt
Tom Callaghan of the county of Cork, who, according to the creed of
the day, by his uncommon feats of valour and addrefs, had raiſed him-
felf to that dignity." Angria, another diſtinguiſhed Freebooter of the
Eaft, in like manner, was notoriouДly a native of the land of Saints;
nay, I have known fome who have a hundred times played marbles
with him; a damned keen dog he always was, and the foremoſt in every
mifchief. On a recent occafion, in a very refpectable company, it was
very ſeriouſly asked, if Hyder Ali was not an Irishman. In a fimilar
ftrain it was but lately afferted, that Dumourier, the French General's
real name was Murray, formerly a private in the Irish Brigades. The
O'Reillys, every child knows, are lineally defcended from the Aurelii,
a noble and imperial family of Ancient Rome.
•
}
ADDENDA.
The other ten, including two Benefits, were in order-
The Double Dealer, Ditto fecond Night, Hamlet, The Double
Dealer, Jane Shore, Double Dealer, Venice Preſerved, King
John, Julius Cæfar, and on Friday March 20th, The Double
Dealer, for his laſt Benefit. The particular receipts are not
preferved; but, as his novelty must have fomewhat abated,
we
cannot preſume with altogether equal fuccefs. Set
down the entire upon an average at 130l. per night, by which
with the addition of two Benefits, it may be admitted that
he cleared 65ol; no part of which, either by compact or
implication, his Creditors had any claim to. He had his
own neceffities to provide for, and a young family with none
but himſelf to look up to; their moft excellent mother was
no more; and the ſtate of his finances put it out of his
power to indulge in works of fupererogation.*
The hearfe his wife's reſpected corſe that bore
Left him poffefs'd of fcarce one louis-d'or.
}
WHYTE'S POEMS, p. 22.†
No calculation can be made to fupport the ftory from the
fucceeding occurrences. Mr. Barry, notwithſtanding the ex-
traordinary affiftance he had derived from his union with.
Sheridan, foon after found himſelf obliged to refign to his then
more fortunate antagoniſt; but mindful of his late obliga-
tions to the man, whom his rafh oppofition had formerly fet
adrift, in fettling with Moffop, he provided in the body of
the Article for Sheridan's being engaged, which was certainly
with a friendly and good intention on the part of Barry.
Sheridan took it otherwife, and was fo offended that any
man fhould prefume to carve for him, that he would accede
to no offers, and did not appear that winter. In the month of
April following, Sheridan and Moffop accidently meeting at
an
See his Letter as before, dated Blois, Auguft ift, and alſo that of
October 13th, 1766.
+ Mirrour for Youth addicted to the Theatro-Mania, line 552.
ADDEND A.
87
an entertainment given by a mutual friend, former bickerings
were ſpeedily forgotten, and, refentment giving place to con-
venience, the parties came to an agreement. Sheridan ap-
peared a few days after in Hamlet, Richard and Cato fuc
ceffively; but Moffop declining a propofal to unite their
powers and appear together, the connection was diffolved; and
Sheridan, without taking a benefit, went off to England, to
meet his young family on their return from France.
The amount of Mr. Sheridan's debts, as fet forth in the
paragraph under confideration, widely differs from the return
given in by Mr. Knowles, who, being fome time treaſurer
to the Theatre and Mr. Sheridan's agent, as well as married
to his fifter, muft have thoroughly known the fituation. of
bis affairs. The ſchedule was made out for my Father, fup-
pofing he might have occafion for it, on his examination
before the Committee of the Houfe of Commons, touching
the particulars; a cafe which required circumfpection.
By this time our Readers muſt have perceived, from the
very nature of the circumftances, the authority of the para-
graph was too haftily admitted, and the flouriſh on liberality
grounded on mifreprefentation. If the Alderman had really
acted in the manner defcribed, it would have been no compli-
ment to Sheridan; the compliment would have been to the
Creditors, whoſe diſtributive fhares would have been thereby
proportionally augmented, as the Alderman's quota, fo relin-
quifhed, must have merged in the general fund. Confe
quently, without detracting from the merits of Mr. Faulkner,
and great merits he certainly poffeffed, on his part the
eulogium was undeferved, and we rifk nothing in affert-
ing, that on the other it was equally undeſired. Sheridan
had a conſciouſneſs of integrity and rectitude within, that
fupported
}
;
J
"
1
.00
88
ADDEND A..
fupported him in every emergency through life; no praiſe
was of any value in his eſtimation but what was honeſtly
obtained. He realized in his conduct, to the fullest extent,
the fentiment contained in thofe beautiful lines of Pope,
which I have heard him, more than once, in his impreffive
manner, with pointed and peculiar energy recite:
All fame is foreign, but of true defert;
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
One felf-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of ſtupid ftarers, and of loud huzzas ;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæfar with a ſenate at his heels.
ESSAY ON MAN, Ep. iv. I. 254,
JUNE 12TH, 1798.
7
THE
1

-
ORIGINAL LETTERS,
&c. &c.
THE fubfequent LETTERS, felected from a long courſe of
epiftolary correfpondence between Mr. and Mrs. SHERIDAN
and my FATHER, eftablish the Facts, in contradiction to
Mr. Boſwell and others, fet forth in our REMARKS on that
Writer's voluminous MEMOIRS of the LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON,
for which purpoſe the printing of them was chiefly intended.
But, though few in number, they have recommendations
which render them intrinfically valuable. They have the
merit of being genuine, and written immediately to the
occafion, without the leaft view to publication, which con-
feffedly was not the cafe with moſt of the productions of
our first-rate geniufes in this way. Their compofitions, un-
der the name of Familiar Letters, however admirable in
other refpects, are rather Epiftolary Effays, like the pa-
pers of the Spectators, the reſult of premeditation and
care; fcrupulouſly corrected and polished for the preſs.*
Here we have examples of familiar writing as it ſhould be,
in its native fimplicity and eaſe; every thought in its original
N
conception
*We are told that a certain author of great learning and talents,
ufed to employ a month in writing a letter of moderate length; and
Pliny apologizes for the unuſual length of a letter, by ſaying, he had
not time to make it fhorter, which is a proof that he was not accuſtomed
to fet down his thoughts currente calamo, or without referve, to commit
to his friends and pofterity, the genuine effufions of his heart. Collections of
Familiar Letters, are indeed numerous, by far the greateſt part made in
the life time and printed under the inſpection of the authors. Mr. Ad-
diton has been known to fufpend buſineſs of high importance, and ſtop
the prefs to alter a comma or reviſe a word.
1
90
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
conception as it aroſe in the mind, fpontaneouſly flowing from
the pen. Truth is not ſacrificed to ornament, nor fincerity
diſguiſed in ſtudied periods. Several literary anecdotes con-
tained in theſe Letters will probably be found intereſting;
but they poffefs in an eminent degree an excellence for which
Familiar Letters are eſteemed peculiarly valuable. They
truly exhibit in pure unaffected language an undiſguiſed
picture of the heart, and ferve to illuftrate the character of
the Writers; Writers too who have meritoriouſly approved
themſelves in the eye of the Public, and who muft hereafter
be diſtinguiſhed in the Hiftory of Literature.
MRS. SHERIDAN* TO MR. WHYTE.
LONDON, Nov. 11th, 1758.
DEAR SAM,
I RECEIVED yours by the laſt Iriſh mail, and am much
obliged to you for the notice you have given me in regard
to the children. I ſhould indeed have fixed them with you
entirely as Boarders on my leaving Ireland; but as I expected
to have returned long before this time, I thought that for
fo ſhort a ſpace, and eſpecially as the exercife of walking in
fummer might be of uſe to them, that they could not be the
worfe for ſpending their evenings at home. However, as I
am convinced of the juftnefs of your reflections on the fub-
ject, I would by all means have them lodged in your houſe,
and the fooner they are removed the better. Though I have
an entire reliance as well on your care as that of Mrs. Whyte,
yet I ſhould not chooſe, at this diſtance from myſelf, to have
the
This Lady is an exception to Mr. Bofwell's general rule; fhe was a
perfon Dr Johnson and He highly valued, and always fpoke well of. See
Memoirs of the Life of Johnson, vol. i. pp. 352, 3, 4, paffim. alfo Note on
the preceding Remarks, p. 9.
ORIGINAL
91
LETTER S.
the children deprived of the fervant they have been fo long
ufed to. I know it would be a great hardship on the poor
younger one in particular to loſe nurſe who has always hither-
to been their attendant.* They must neceffarily have fome-
body
* In a work printed by Faulder, London, this preſent year 1798, it is
ſaid, “Richard-Brinſley Sheridan, Efq. was born at Quilca near Dublin,
in the year 1752. At the age of fix years his Father, then compelled to
quit his native country, brought him into England, and placed him at
Harrow School, under the care of Dr. Sumner, who was at that time
Head-Maſter, &c." The ingenious author has been greatly miſſed in
almoſt every particular here advanced refpecting Mr. Sheridan, as is
evident, from the above Letters written by his Mother, and the circum--
ſtances of his birth related in a preceding page which, to fave the trou-
ble of turning back, take briefly as follows. . . . Mr. Sheridan, the Father,
at the time of his fon's birth, and fome years before and after, lived at
No. 12 in Dorſet-ſtreet, Dublin; a new houſe built for him by a Mr. Orpin,
now occupied by a Mr. Kindillon, directly opposite to the houfe in
which Captain Solomon Whyte, Mrs. Sheridan's maternal unc.e, then
lived. The fituation, though very inconvenient, being at a great diſtance
from the Theatre, was fixed on at the ſpecial inftance of her uncle, who
was in a very declining ſtate of health, and wiſhed to have her near him;
for ſhe was his favourite niece, and they were mutually fond of each
other. It pleaſed the Almighty to call him to his eternal home, March
the 17th, 1757. In this houſe Richard-Brinley Sheridan was born, at a
ſeaſon when his Father's occupation in town rendered his prefence in-
difpenfably neceffary, towards the latter end of October 1751; not in 1752,
and confequently not at Quilca, which is not near Dublin. Young
Sheridan was not brought to London by his Father in the year 1758; but
was ſent over late in the year 1759, and, not 'till after the Chriſtmas va-
cation, in the year 1762, was placed at Harrow School; for which we
have the authority of the Letters before us. If any faftidious critic fhould
carp at the nicety of this statement, the circumstances have been taken
up by feveral writers in fucceffion, and all erroneously. It is neverthe-
leſs clear, that whatever is thought worthy of record, fhould be honeſtly
and truly recorded; if, in fuch a cafe, fo many mistakes could be committed,
it may at leaſt ſerve to fhew our younger Readers, that when national
vanity, the intereft of individuals, or the prejudice of party, guides the
author's pen, which is too much the cafe in both ancient and modern
hiftories, though written by a Hume or a Gibbon, they are at beft but
ingenious Romances, and not to be relied on.
$
1
92
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
{
body to dress them, waſh for them, and mend their cloaths;
and if nurſe can be made any otherwiſe uſeful in the family,
I dare fay fhe will be very willing to do her best. I would
have her ſtill attend them, and the terms for her can be as eaſily
adjuſted as for the children. If you want a bed or beds on
the occafion, you may be ſupplied from the Blind-quay.
I can't at prefent inform you what ſtay we ſhall make here:
Mr. Sheridan is now at Oxford, where he purpoſes to give
a Courſe of Lectures; how long that will detain him I can't
fay; but I do not expect him to return this month. I fent
your letter to him and waited for his anfwer, otherwiſe you
fhould have heard from me fooner. When he writes to
Dr. Leland or Mr. Tickell, he will take notice of what you
fay in regard to H. S. mean time if that branch of inftruc-
tion which they offered you can be in any wife made worth
your while, I think you would not do well to refuſe it, as it
may be a means of introducing you to fomething much better.
I only fay this as my own fentiments, for Mr. Sheridan did
not give me his opinion on the ſubject.
I
As to Theatrical matters, 1 can fay but little of them; but
I doubt Mr. Sheridan, without a much better profpect than
the preſent, will hardly be induced to take the burthen again
upon his ſhoulders; for my own part I think we have had a
fufficient proof how far Dublin is to be depended upon;
ſpeak in general, for I am fure we have fome very worthy
friends there. Be that as it may, I can't as yet ſpeak with
certainty concerning our defignation after Chriſtmas. Mr.
Sheridan's abfence (for I have had him but for a few days
with me theſe five weeks, and then very much engaged)
leaves me ignorant of what our motions are to be at that
time; but I have hope I ſhall then have it in my power per-
fonally to thank you for your attention to my poor little
ones.
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
93
⚫nes. You don't tell me whether they are going on with
their French. Give my bleffing to them, and tell them we
fhall meet ere 'tis long.
Pray make my compliments to Mrs. Whyte: I hope the
has better health than when I faw her, and is by this time
better reconciled to Ireland.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours moſt fincerely,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
P. S. My Brother and Sifter are both very well, and wiſh
to be affectionately remembered to you. Dr. Lucas, your old
Friend, is perfectly recovered; he returned a few days ago
from Harwich, where he had been on account of his health,
and to attend Lord Charlemont, whom he has reftored fur-
prizingly. The Doctor was very particular in his enquiries
about you, and requeſted I would affure you he has your
welfare extremely at heart.
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYTE.
DEAR SAM,
LONDON, MARCH 29TH, 1759.
WHEN I look at the date of your laſt letter, I am afhamed
that I have not anſwered it long before now: I will however
endeavour to account for my omiffion in few words. When
I received yours I was at Bath, where my drinking the
waters, together with the general diffipation of the place,
quite difqualified me either for writing or reading; to ſay
the truth, I believe I never had either a pen or a book in my
hand the whole time I was there; I ſhould notwithſtanding
have written to you, but as I every day expected to have the
bufinefs which detained Mr. Knowles concluded, fo I intended
by
94
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
{
{
by him, at his return to Dublin, to have writ to you at large
on the fubject of your letter. This made me defer writing
from day to day, when at my return to London, the fickneſs
and death of poor Mifs Pennington (who was in the fame
houſe with me) fo took up my attention, that it was a great
while before I could think of any thing elſe. This was the
true ſtate of my fituation, and I have nothing farther to offer
in excufe for my filence.*
The morning of the day in which our deceaſed friend
took her illneſs, your name happening to be mentioned, fhe
afked after you with great kindneſs, and told me many civi-
lities which you had formerly fhewn her. Yesterday I opened
a writing-box and a little parcel fhe left me, in which I found
fome curiofities of value, and ſeveral intereſting papers, which
ſhe had not before fhewn me; among others, a very pretty
Poem addreſſed to her by you it was encloſed in a letter of
my fifter Chamberlaine's. We ufed to fet you down in the
lift of her admirers. She was in every fenſe indeed an eſti
mable Being; a lively, fenfible companion, and a fincere and
diſcreet friend; naturally affectionate and obliging, her good
offices were never wanting where the thought ſhe could be of
fervice. Books to be fure are a great fource of entertain-
ment in the gloom of retirement; but the mind cannot be
always in a difpofition for reading, and there are times and
´occafions which require more active confolation. Her agree-
able converſation was the balm of my folitary hours, and her
company in Mr. Sheridan's frequent abfences, to which his
avocations
* Mifs P. was once an admired ftar in the literary hemifphere. Whether
The
or not there be any writings of hers extant, I cannot aſcertain.
volume of well-written letters, containing an unfortunate Mother's
Advice to her Abfent Daughter, fuppofed to be addrefied to this Lady,
was a Pofthumous Publication,
1
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
95
avocations indifpenfably oblige him, was to me a materia?
acquifition; my dear Sam, I fhall mifs her very much; but
this is felfish; don't condemn me for it.
Mr. Sheridan is now at Cambridge; but I expect his im-
mediate return. I hope every thing goes on to your wiſhes.
How are my dear little ones? do they often talk of me?
keep me alive in their remembrance. I have all a mother's
anxiety about them, and long to have them over with me;
but I believe we fhall not fend for them till the latter end of
June, and then I hope to ſee them. I mention this as a mat-
ter of buſineſs, as I know your number is limited, and, being
apprized of our intentions in time, you may the better regu-
late your own meaſures and fuit your convenience accord-
ingly. If you will fend me your account for the children,
by nurſe, when they leave you, I hope Mr. Sheridan will dif-
charge it the firſt opportunity. But as to the Bond Debt I
can fay nothing; that is a more ſerious object, and I fear we
muſt treſpaſs on your friendſhip to wait fometime longer,
till our affairs come about, and we can get a better hold of
the world.
The main object of your laſt, requiring maturer deliber-
ation and precifion, I muſt defer to a more favourable oppor-
tunity. Let me hear from you foon, and in my anſwer I
promiſe to be particular and explicit on the points you pro-
poſe. This is a fad ſcrawl, very unfit to come before ſo ex-
cellent a penman; but I have neither time nor ſpirits to copy
it fair: I hope you will be able to decypher it. Remember
me to my brother and fifter in Kevin's-ftreet. I shall be
very glad to hear of your profpering in your preſent and
future undertakings; and am,
Dear Sam,
Your fincere Friend, &c. &c.
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
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ORIGINAL LETTERS.
1
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYT È.
DEAR SAM,
WINDSOR, SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1759.
MY Children are, thank God, arrived fafe and well; they,
did not come down to me here till laſt Thurſday; they ſtaid
a week in London, nurſe being willing to wait for their bag-
gage, which 'twas proper fhe fhould fee fafely lodged before
fhe left town. I can't ſay they do their preceptor as much
credit as George Cunningham does, for their progrefs has
been rather ſmall for eighteen months; but, miſtake me not,
I don't ſay this, as is too much the abfurd cuftom of parents,
by way of throwing a reflection on the teacher, of whoſe
care and abilities I am perfectly fatisfied; it is the intereſt of
the maſter to do every thing to the beſt of his power for the
advantage of his pupils ; my children's backwardneſs I impute
to themſelves; owing to their natural flowneſs, their illneſs
and long and frequent abſences, not to any want of attention
in you towards them.
Mr. Sheridan fends his best wishes to you, and is very
much pleaſed to hear you are going on fo well: he ſays, he
is very fure you will make yourfelf confpicuous in your
profeffion. I gave him your account, and he defires me to
tell you, the inftant it is in his power he will diſcharge as
much of it as he can.
I believe you are not a ſtranger to the bad fituation of our
affairs in Ireland; he is here working his way through diffi-
culties, and nothing but the proſpect of having his labours
crowned with fuccefs could fupport him under them; mean
time as all our refources from your fide are cut off, we are
obliged to be oeconomiſts, till our affairs are fettled upon a
better footing, which we hope next winter will effect. I
affure you, Sam, Mr. Sheridan laments the not having it in
his
}
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
97
his power at this diſtance to affift you in the manner he once
hoped to do.
I am glad to hear you have recovered your health and
ſpirite, and with them I hope your peace of mind. In truth
I believe I have inverted the order of things here, and have
placed the effects before their caufe. Be that as it may, I
wiſh them to you all together, with an additional acquiſition
of reputation and fortune. There I think I have put matters
to rights, and given the words their proper places; for ac-
cording to the temporal order of things, in your way of life,
money moſt affuredly waits on reputation.
Mr. Sheridan and I fhall be glad to hear from you at your
leifure.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours fincerely, &c.
FRANCES SHERIDAN,
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYT E.
DEAR SAM,
DECEMBER 2D, 1759.
I OUGHT to make an apology for, not anſwering yours
of the 28th of Auguft, if I had received it in any reaſonable
time within the date; but it did not come to my hands till
the 7th of November. Mrs. Gregory, indeed, very politely
excuſed herſelf for this delay, occafioned, as the obligingly ex-
preſſed herſelf, in the letter in which ſhe encloſed yours,. by
the defire ſhe had to deliver your letter to me with her own
hands, which ſhe was prevented from doing by illneſs, till
the bad weather came on and cut off all hopes of being able
to get out of town; for I am ftill at Windfor.
I am extremely glad to hear from all hands that your
ſchool goes on fo well. I have not the least doubt of your
t
Q
making
98
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
making a figure in your profeffion. Indeed it is but a ſmall
compliment to ſay this in the place where you now are; for I
believe you have but few candidates for fame in your line;
a moderate ſubſiſtence in the dog-trot way is all they expect
or look for. Mr. Sheridan has gone a good way in the
grammar; but as he only writes a little now and then, by
fnatches, as he is at prefent engaged in another courſe, which
is to confift of eight lectures, and which chiefly engroffes his
time and attention, he has not near completed the grammar;
but, you may affure yourſelf, he will fend it you, together
with fome other uſeful hints, as foon as it is perfect enough
to be of use to you. He is very much obliged to you for
your friendly behaviour, and it redoubles his concern at not
having it yet in his power to acquit himſelf towards you as
he thinks you deſerve. But as you cannot be a ſtranger to
the ruinous ſtate of our affairs on your fide the water, fo
you may imagine thofe events muft, in fome meaſure, even
influence the progreſs of matters here; however, Mr. Sheridan
is determined to perfevere in what he thinks a right path,
and I truſt in God we ſhall ſucceed in the end.
The two boys are getting on in their learning, and I en-
deavour to affift them, particularly in the English branches,
as well as I can. I ſhould often be at a lofs what to do with
my time in this unfociable place, if I had not the children,
with whom I find fufficient employment. We don't think of
feeing London till after Chriſtmas.
Mr. Sheridan fends his beſt wishes to you; the children
their love.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours most truly,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
MRS.
3
{
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
99
MRS. SHERIDAN ΤΟ MR. WHYTE.
WINDSOR, MARCH 21ST, 1760.
DEAR SAM,
THOUGH your laſt letter was without date, I am fure it
has been long enough written to make me ashamed of not
having anſwered it before; if I were not conſcious that it
was really not in my power to do it fooner. At the time I
received it Mr. Sheridan was in London, and he had not
been at home long enough, to give me an opportunity to
talk to him about the request you made, before I was obliged
to go thither on particular buſineſs, which detained me ten
days. Since my return to Windfor, which is now a fort-
night, I have ſcarce been a day well. A diſorder at my
ftomach, attended with violent head achs, peſters me per-
petually, and diſqualifies me almoft for every thing; but par-
ticularly for writing.
Mr. Sheridan told me, on feeing your letter, that he
would with great pleaſure undertake the taſk you mentioned;
but to do any thing that would be of material ufe to you,
would take up a much longer time than you are aware of;
he fays, thoſe very things you ſpoke of, would be at leaſt a
month's work to him, to do in ſuch a manner as would be of
any benefit to you; however, that would not deter him, if
his time, the only thing he now can call his own, were not
at this juncture extremely precious to him. This is not oc-
cafioned through want of leifure, as here he can have but few
avocations; but his health is fo precarious, having lately
been violently attacked with his old diforder, that he is
obliged to lay hold of every interval of eaſe, to purſue a
very arduous task which he has fet about. His Lectures are
finished; but were not done time enough to give them in
London, as he intended. He is now engaged in a very ex-
tenſive plan, in which the English Language will be ſet in a
light,
و
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ORIGINAL LETTERS.
MU
light, that few think it capable of receiving. I could heartily
wiſh, that you were within reach, that he might communi-
cate his labours to you. You, who have fo much confidered
it yourſelf, muſt receive a particular pleaſure from what he
could fhew you on the fubject, as he often ſpeaks of your in-
defatigable enquiries, and commendable curiofity on this
occafion. He has affured me that you fhall be the firſt to
whom he will communicate what he has written, as foon as
it is in a form fit for an advantageous perufal; how ſoon
this will be I can't pretend to fay; I can only anſwer for my
not failing to remind him of you, though I am fure his own
inclinations would lead him to ſerve you more materially than
in this point were it in his power. The time I hope will come;
for we have had a fufficient fhare of diſappointments;
patience, courage and induftry, however, will furmount,
every thing.
In a former Letter I wrote to you, I mentioned two things
you quite forgot in your anſwer. The one was, the Letter I
fent to Mrs. Katherns, which I ſhould have been glad to
know if the received; the other was the enquiries after the
poor little family of Mr. Fiſh;* the account I have fince had
of his death has been a melancholy anfwer to thoſe.
You told me you would let me know under Seal of Secrecy,
why a certain perfon interfered fo warmly about Mrs.
I ſhould be glad you would explain this. I affure you your
information ſhall be a fecret, except to Mr. Sheridan, to
whom I believe you would impart it as foon as to me. A
fecret delivered to me, viva voce, might be lodged fafely with-
in my own breaft; but thoſe communicated by Letter hazard a
participation, as I have no correſpondence that I don't ſhew.
I only mention this, that, in caſe you would wiſh nobody to
know
*The Rev. Mr. John Fiſh, M. A. Chaplain to the Blue-coat Hofpital,
married to her elder fifter, Anu, deceaſed ; there were but the two Sifters.
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
ΤΟΙ
know of what you have to fay but myſelf, you need not
write it.
Mr. Sheridan and the children all defire to be cordially
remembered to you.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours fincerely,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYT E.
DEAR SAM,
LONDON, FEBRUARY 26TH, 1761.
CONSIDERING I am not remarkable for my expedition
in anſwering letters, I think I need not make any apology
for not acknowleging the receipt of yours of December 20th,
fooner.
I fhall just briefly diſpatch the contents of that, having
matters of more confequence to ſpeak to.
I need not tell you how fincerely glad both Mr. Sheridan
and I are at every fuccefs and every fresh mark of appro-
bation you meet with; I think Nature cut you out for the
profeffion, and I can have no doubt but your own induſtry
and application have made large improvements on her handy-
work. I am gratified to hear that you expect to have the
children of families of fo much refpectability and confequence
as thoſe you mention; this muft needs give an eclat to your
fchool, if you yourſelf was lefs qualified than I am fure you
are for the important taſk of education.
Perhaps you were more nice than wife' in burning your
English Grammars; it fhews however a diffidence very com-
mendable at your years. Mr. Sheridan will be extremely
glad to fee what you intend by the advice of your friends to
publiſh,
ION
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
publiſh, when an opportunity offers. I hope you will fend it
to him, and he flatters himſelf that advice will not be the only
thing that he will foon have it in his power to fend you.
He ſtands here in high reputation, with a profpect of being
every day more and more eſteemed. The late King's death,
which ſhut up the Theatres for a time, together with the ne-
ceffity the Managers were under of bringing on the ſtage
five new pieces (Farces and Comedies) has prevented him ap-
pearing fo often as it was expected; this, however, tho' it
has a little curtailed his profit, has been no hindrance to his
reputation, which ſtands very high in all the parts he has
been ſeen in. He is now preparing for another courſe of
Practical Lectures, which he intends to read and then to pub-
lifh. I could wifh diftance did not render communication fo
inconvenient, as I am fure you might be benefited by ſome
lights from him.
{
He has as yet been immerfed in too great a variety of bu-
finefs (not to mention private vexations) to be able to put
the finishing hand to what I purpofed fending to you.
As for myſelf you will fee how my folitary hours were
employed laſt winter at Windfor, if you have time enough
to beſtow the reading on the Memoirs of Mifs Sidney Bidulph,
which will foon be publiſhed by G. Faulkner.
I had this day an interview with Mrs. Gardiner, requeſted
by her last night by an exceedingly urgent note.
The con-
verfation was long and intereſting, in which, though I could
perceive ſtrong prejudices and great partiality in her own
favour, the threw much blame on you. I cannot now enter
into particulars; but hereafter, when I am lefs expofed to
interruptions, will give you my beſt opinion and advice upon
the fubject. I own her viſit was not attended with the
confequences which I looked for. What have you done with
your two Tragedies? I expected Mrs. Gardiner would have
brought
t
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
103
brought them with her, and apprized Mr. Sheridan on the
fubject. He fays, he will anſwer for having one of them
performed, and will not only undertake the part you wrote
for him; but will take care the whole fhall be advantageouſly
caft and prepared for repreſentation. A friend of yours has
already ſketched out an Epilogue, and I have been promiſed
a Prologue by another; ſo far matters are in train as to that;
but the other, Mr. Sheridan fears, from the account I gave
him, will not do for the ſtage: he thinks the fubject unfit for
repreſentation, and too like the ſtory of Oedipus.*
I muſt ſtop here or lofe the opportunity of ſending you
this by the prefent, conveyance. I am, in the Mercantile
Style, for Self and Company,
Dear Sam,
1
Sincerely yours,
1
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
MRS.
* This kind and flattering offer came too late. Both the Tragedies,
ſharing the fame fate with the Grammars, having been committed to the
fames. . . . The first of them was the ftory of Abradatas and Panthea,
taken from the 5th Book of Xenophon's Cyropædia. The other was taken
from an anonymous pamphlet printed by Geo. Faulkner, 1751, entitled
"ELEONORA, or a Tragical and True Cafe of Inceft," reported by the
author, who declares he intimately knew and was in confidence with the
parties, to have happened in the North of Scotland, Anno 1685. It is
precifely the fame ftory, with fome local variations, on which Mr.
Walpole founded his Tragedy of the Myfterious Mother. The Right
Hon. Author of that piece, though he lays the fcene at Narbonne in
France, gives us to underſtand, on the authority alledged of Archbishop
Tillotson, that it was a matter of fact well known in England, and feveral
writers are mentioned, who before him had hit upon the subject; but
there is no notice taken of a book prior to any of them, where we have
ſince diſcovered it, and there it is ſtated that the crime was perpetrated
on the Continent. Bishop Taylor, in his Ductor Dubitantium, 1659,
book i. chap. iii. fect. 3d, cites this identical ftory, from Comitolus, as
of a ſtrange and rare cafe happening at Venice, propoſed for the determi-
nation of a congregation of learned and prudent perfons; we muſt ſuppoſe
of Divines. Here are three Authors, whofe credentials it might be rash to
call
7
104
\
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
}
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYTE.
DEAR SAM,
LONDON, FEBRUARY 25TH, 1762.
IT is fo long fince you and I have correfponded that I really
do not recollect whether you are a letter in my debt or I in
yours; for my own credit's fake I wish it may be the former;
but be it as it may I will not omit the opportunity of Mr.
Rainsford's return, to fend you Mr. Sheridan's Differtation,
which includes part of his plan. 'Tis addreffed, as you fee,
to a great man; when you read it you will not be at a
lofs to diſcover, that the perfon addreſſed is our prefent firſt
Minifter. It has been as well received by him as we could
poffibly wiſh, and even beyond the expectation of our friends.
He expreſſed himſelf highly pleaſed with the defign, and fent
Mr. Sheridan word it fhould receive all countenance and en-
couragement. Lord Bute is a man of his word, and every
body knows his great influence, ſo that the affair now feems
likely to become of great importance. The Courſe of Lec-
tures which Mr. Sheridan is now reading in the city is at-
tended in a manner that shews the people more warm and
earneſt on the ſubject than can well be conceived; his au-
ditory ſeldom confifting of less than five hundred people,
and this is the utmoſt the hall will contain; many have
been diſappointed for want of room, and he is ſtrenuouſly
folicited to repeat the Courſe again immediately in the fame
place.
call in queftion; one fays Scotland; another, England; a third Venice, and,
a fourth, not yet quoted, pleads an alibi, and fixes, beyond doubt, the real
Scene of action at Prague, in Bohemia: O, the faith of hiſtorians! credit
the enormous tale who will, I'd as foon believe that Romulus and Remus
were nurfed by a wolfe. The 'plain inference to be drawn is, for the
honour of human nature, no fuch thing ever happened; but that the
whole is merely a fiction of cafuifts, as a bas to fupport an opinion.
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
105
place.* This I believe he will comply with, though he is to
give another Courſe next month at Spring-Gardens. Laft
Monday evening Charles for the first time exhibited himſelf
as a little orator. He read Eve's Speech to Adam from
Milton, beginning "O thou! for whom, and from whom I
was form'd," &c. as his Father had taken a deal of pains
with him, and he has the advantage of a fine ear and a fine
voice, he acquitted himſelf in fuch a manner as aſtoniſhed
every body....He purpoſes in his next Courſe to fhew him
in all the variety of ſtyle that is uſed in Engliſh compoſition,
and hopes in a very little time to make him complete in his
Dick has been at Harrow School fince Chriſtmas;†
as he probably may fall into a buſtling life, we have a mind
to accuſtom him early to ſhift for himſelf; Charles's domeſtic
and fedentary turn is beft fuited to a home education * * *
this is the preſent ſyſtem of your little old acquaintance.
own art.
I ſhall be glad of your opinion on the Differtation, as alſo to
know what progreſs you yourſelf have made in this partícu-
lar branch in your fchool, which I am very glad to hear by
Mr. Rainsford is in great reputation. I am obliged to break
off, as I have been interrupted a dozen times fince I fat
down to write. Indeed I am fo diftreffed for want of a
room to myſelf, that it difcourages me from attempting any
thing,
Р
Mr. Sheridan admitted in print that to three Courfes he had upwards
of fixteen hundred fubfcribers at a guinea each, befides occafional audi-
tors, and the benefit arifing to him afterwards from the publication of
the Lectures, (price half-a-guinea in boards) which had a rapid fale, fʊ
that his emolument on the whole muſt have been confiderable indeed.
+ This account (February 25th, 1762) little accredits the information of
thoſe who place Richard-Brinley Sheridan at Harrow-School in the
year 1758, as noticed in the preceding pages.
1
106
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
thing, though I have this winter made a ſhift to ſcribble ſome-
thing that you ſhall hear of another time.
Adieu, Dear Sam,
I am yours fincerely,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
P. S. My fifter Chamberlaine defires me to inform you
(you may be affured I did not hint the fubject) that ſhe had
paid Mrs. .... ſome money that you had left in her bands
for that ufe, which the expects you'll acquit her of. I leave
my brother Dick to anſwer for himſelf.
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHY TE.
DEAR SAM,
LONDON, MARCH 30TH, 1762.
I HOPE you have long before this received my letter, to-
gether with the packet which I fent you by the hands of
Mr. Rainsford, and that I have made my peace with you
on account of my long filence.
I ſhould have anſwered yours of the 16th paſt, immedi-
ately, but that I waited in hopes of being able to give you
fome fatisfactory account of your friend Mr. Armſtrong,
and am very glad to inform you, that I happened to have
intereſt enough with á very worthy gentleman to get him a
fmall employment, which he has thought worth his accept-
ance. Upon my first application to this gentleman (which
was directly on the receipt of your letter) he told me he had
nothing then in his power; but that I might depend on him
when any thing offered. I then got my Brother to write to
Mr. Adair, who returned the fame anfwer, and I was afraid
the young man might have continued here a long time
without fucceeding, when my friend, Commiffioner Tom,
came himſelf to tell me he had a place worth fixty pounds a
-
year,
}
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
107
year, and apartments, &c. with it. I underſtood from him
that he had a mind to go abroad; but as nothing eligible
was to be procured in that way, I thought that this might
be better than nothing. I writ to him, and defired him to
wait on Commiffioner Tom. He did fe, and Mr. Tom
has fince informed me that he accepted of the place, and
purpoſed going down to Portſmouth, where he is ſtationed;
but I have not yet feen him, though it is now above a week
ſince this affair was fettled, which I am the more ſurpriſed
at, as I requeſted he would call on me. I ſuppoſe he will
call on me before he leaves town (if he be not gone;) but as
this looks a little remifs, I have been the more particular in my
account to you, left he ſhould have neglected writing to you.
Mr. Sheridan is much obliged to you for the great delicacy
with which you make your application, in giving it the air
rather of requeſting a favour than making a juſt demand.
Few people, Sam, can think, much leſs act, generouſly, or even
genteelly. He will not fail to fend you the fum mentioned
in about a month's time at fartheft. Indeed he could have
wiſhed you had been lefs modeft on this occafion, and put in
your claim with the rest of the creditors, who, you I believe
muſt know, have already received cach a dividend by the
hands of Mr. Sheen. I hope another year or fo will fet him
clear, and that he will then be able to enjoy the fruits of his
labour, which hitherto has not been the cafe. He has had
but very indifferent health all the winter; but is now, thank
God, much better. He purpoſes going through a new
Courſe of Lectures in the middle of April, and will give
them alternately in the city, and at the court end of the town.
You know the inhabitants of thoſe two quarters are as diſtinct
as if they were in two different countries.
1
I ſhould be glad to know how you like the Differtation and
the Addrefs to Lord Bute. I believe I told you in my laſt
that
108
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
that he had received it very well, and promiſed the plan all
countenance and encouragement.
Mr. Sheridan and the little ones defire to be remembered
cordially to you. Mrs. Chamberlaine has been extremely ill
and does not yet leave her room; my brother is very
well.
I
am, Dear Sam,
Moft fincerely yours, &c.
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
P. S. Not finding myſelf worth a frank when I came to
fold up this letter, I poftponed-fending it till this day,
April ift.
No news of Mr. Armſtrong!
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYT E.
LONDON, MAY 31ST, 1759.
DEAR SAM,
THOUGH my laſt Letter to you is unanſwered, I think
myſelf obliged to write to you again, and fhould indeed have
done it much fooner, if a tedious indiſpoſition had not con-
fined me to my room, (and part of the time to my bed) for
three weeks: It was the epidemical diſorder which, we hear,
was all over Europe, and in which I fhared very feverely.
When I laft wrote to you, I, in Mr. Sheridan's name, pro-
miſed to anſwer the requeſt, which you in fo kind and mo-
deft a manner, but juſt propoſed; on which account it re-
doubles both Mr. Sheridan's and my uneafineſs that we can-
not keep our word. I fhall however reap this one advantage
from the concern I have felt on this occafion, that it will
teach me for the future never to make a promife, the power of
fulfilling which depends upon contingencies. When I writ
laft, which was, I think, in March, Mr. Sheridan then
propofed
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
109
propofed giving another Courfe of Lectures in April in
London, after which he had a proſpect (which then appeared
a certainty) of receiving confiderable advantages from a jour-
ney to Scotland, which was to have taken place before this
time. But in both theſe defigns he has been diſappointed.
In regard to the firſt, having left fome printing work to be
done, which was neceffary previous to the new Courſe of
Ledures to be delivered here, he went out of town for a
fortnight, all which time was loft; for on his return he found
nothing done of the preparatory buſineſs; this having put him
back a good deal, by the time he had got in readineſs, the
illneſs which I have mentioned feized on him, and though his
lafted but a few days, yet the complaint fo univerſally pre-
vailed all over London, that for a time public entertainments
were but little attended, and the fine weather advancing re-
duced the number of his auditors fo much, many going out
of town who would have been of the number, that he found
it would by no means anfwer his purpoſe to read a third
Courſe; fo that all hopes of advantage from that were cut off
at once. In regard to his Scotch journey, the many reaſons
which deterred him from that, would be too long to tell you;
but he found they had been fo dilatory in his abfence, and
fo much departed from the original plan laid down by him,
through the ignorance or officiouſneſs of fome who had got
ſome ſhare of the conduct of it, that he was adviſed by his
principal friends there, not to be concerned with them, till
they had put matters upon a better footing; and as he found
it would be difficult and troubleſome to effect his chief defign
(that of the Academy) this year, he thought a viſit, merely
for his own advantage, would not at this junclure appear
well to them, and therefore he dropt all thoughts of it. I
believe I need not tell you, that theſe two diſappointments
have a good deal diſtreſſed us; eſpecially as he was to make
a payment
Iro
LETTER S.
ORIGINAL
a payment to his creditors in Dublin this very month. How-
ever uneafy it may make a man not to have it in his power
to diſcharge creditors from whom he has no reafon to ex-
pect indulgences, I affure you it makes me infinitely more
unhappy to diſappoint one whoſe good natured forbearance
I have already experienced, and from whoſe friendſhip I have
no difagreeable confequences to apprehend. Mr. Sheridan
is however ftill not without hopes of being able in leſs than
a month, to diſcharge fome part of his load, and if He is
not again diſappointed, you fhall not.
Mr. Sheridan's laft Courfe of Lectures are now print-
ing; as foon as they are ready he will fend you over the
book. We fhall foon go fome where out of the noiſe and
duft of London, and Mr. Sheridan will employ himſelf this.
fummer in writing his Engliſh Dictionary, which we have
reafon to hope will be a fucceſsful work.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours moft fincerely,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
The children fend their love to you.
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYTE.
DEAR SAM,
LONDON, NOVEMBER 29TH, 1762.
IT was not in revenge that I did not anſwer yours of
the 2d of October fooner. The truth is, fince my return to
town from Windfor, I have been much employed though
often interrupted by intervals of bad health, which of late
have frequently returned on me. I have however muſtered
up fpirits enough to write.... what do you think? Why, a
Comedy! which is now in rehearſal at Drury-lane. I had
formed my plan, and nearly finiſhed the ſcenes laft fummer at
Windfor (the place of my inſpiration,) when I came to town,
and
1
!
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
III
and fhewed it to a few people, what was faid to me on the
occafion encouraged me to take fome pains in the finiſhing
of it. Mr. Garrick was preffing to fee it, and accordingly
I read it to him myſelf. What his opinion of it is, you
may judge by his immediately requeſting it to be put into
his hands, and undertaking to play the fecond character, a
comic, and very original one.* Mr. Sheridan is to play
the firſt, one of a graver caft, and a great deal of variety,
and which requires a confiderable actor to perform. My
firſt theatrical effay has fo far met with an almoſt unprece-
dented fuccefs; moſt of us, poor authors, find a difficulty in
getting our pieces on the ſtage, and perhaps are obliged to
dangle after Managers a feafon or two: I on the contrary
was folicited to give mine as foon as it was feen. It is to
come out early in January (the beſt part of the winter) and
as it is admirably well caft, I have tolerable expectations of
its fucceeding.
Mr. Sheridan has written to Mr. Sheen, to give you one
of his books which he will foon receive from hence. He is
now, as I mentioned to you formerly, bufied in the English
Dictionary, which he is encouraged to purfue with the more
alacrity, as his Majefty has vouchfafed him fuch a mark of
Royal Favour. 1 fuppofe you muſt have heard, that he
has granted him a penfion of two hundred pounds a year,
merely as an encouragement to his undertaking, and this
without folicitation, which makes it the more valuable.†
* See the Note annexed at the end of this Letter.
He
+ Mr. Boſwell, always ready to detract from Mr. Sheridan, and edge in a
compliment to Johnſon at another's expence, contrives to give an invidi-
ous twift to this mark of Royal Favour, ftating, as noticed in our Re-
marks, that, "Mr. Sheridan's Penfion was granted to him as a fufferer
in the cauſe of Government," which this account of Mrs. Sheridan's,
confirmed by the printed addrefs to Lord Bute, clearly refutes, and thews
Mr. Boſwell was greatly miſinformed, or wilfully deviates from the truth,
}
112
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
1
He intends giving a new Courfe of Lectures in March;
the preparing of which, together with his getting ready in
the Comedy, (his part being a very long one) will fully take
up his time the remainder of the winter; whatever hours he
can make befide muſt be employed in the Dictionary, as he
does not purpoſe playing any other characters; nor would he
have appeared at all this ſeaſon, if my play could have been
got up well without him, as he has been far from being well
theſe two months paſt.
I know not whether Mr. Armstrong ever gave you any
account of himfelf. The circumftance which I mentioned
to you he afterwards cleared up, in a way which was not at
that time fatisfactory either to me or himself; however it is
now over ; a failure on his fide occafioned his lofing the little
place which was ready for his acceptance; but this, as he
begged of me not to mention, I charge you never to take
notice of it, to any of his friends: Perhaps he has done better;
for on his miffing that, I got him fo well recommended, that
he was fent with the army to Portugal in a very good fta-
tion, where I fuppofe he now is.
Your former little pupils are all very well, and fend their love
to you. Mr. Sheridan joins me in wiſhing you all fuccefs.
I am, Dear Sam,
Yours fincerely,
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
MRS.
Mr. Garrick quas prefing to fee it, &c. See page preceding.
This behaviour of Garrick does him infinite honour; but the parti-
cular compliment to Mrs. Sheridan, as a writer, in her modelt way of
relating it, does not appear in its full force; which is greatly heightened
by the confideration, that at the time Sheridan and he were upon very
"Notwithſtanding
unfriendly terms. Davies on the fubject fays..
• •
it was become impoffible to adjust difference between the Manager and
Mr. Sheridan, in fuch a manner as to bring them on the fame Stage, and
upon the ufual terms of acting, yet when Mrs. Sheridan's Comedy of the
Discovery
{
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
113
MRS. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHY TE.
LONDON, MAY 12TH, 1764.
DEAR SAM,
I RECEIVED yours by the hands of Mr. Sheridan, whoſe
fudden arrival not a little furpriſed me. Though I cannot
plead guilty to the charge of not anſwering your letters; yet
I do not really well know how to defend myſelf; for I cannot
take upon me to affert, merely from memory, that I anſwered
all your letters; but can venture to fay, from the general tenour
of my conduct, that I am fure it is impoffible, that I could
have received fo many from you without anſwering them. One
letter I know I was in your debt when Mr. Sheridan went
over, which I commiffioned him to anſwer perſonally, and
if, as you fay, you had written three before that, I either did
not get them, or you did not get my anſwers. But to have
done with juſtifications (which between friends are always
beſt when ſhorteft) I am extremely glad to hear you are
eſtabliſhed ſo advantageouſly, with fo good a character, which
I have no doubt you deſerve, and with ſuch deſirable prof-
e
pects
Diſcovery was offered to Mr. Garrick, he accepted it, and confented that
Mr. Sheridan ſhould play the principal part in the play, and receive for
his labour the advantage of two nights' profits, befides thofe for the
Author.... He was indeed fo warm in behalf of the Diſcovery, that he
affured a Publisher, who afterwards bought a ſhare in it, that it was one
of the best Comedies he ever read, and that he could not do better than
to lay out his money in fo valuable a purchaſe."... Memoirs of Garrick
as before, vol. i. p. 310.
Obferve, my young Readers! what a difference in conclufions a few
words may create. Here are two writers, without the ſmalleſt intention
to miſlead, perfectly agreed in the principal point, yet by a ſmall varia-
tion of phrase, throwing a quite different light on the acceffories. Mr.
Davies, in the ufual routine of his profeffion, gives Mr. Garrick the credit
of accepting the Comedy, purely as a matter of favour. Mrs. Sheridan, on
the contrary, more naturally from her feelings on the occafion, without
affuming to herself any extraordinary airs of merit, in pure fimplicity of
heart, afcribes the compliment to his judgment, and the probable expecta-
tions of fuccefs. And that this is the proper and true conftruction to be
put upon it, Mr. Garrick's fubfequent converfation with the publiſher
abundantly evinces.
114
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
pects before you.
Mr. Sheridan expreffes himſelf much
obliged to you for your friendſhip; for which you have my
warmest acknowlegements.
And now, Sam, not by way of compenſation, for that is
not in my power to make you; but as a fort of little regale
in your own way, for want of other matter, I will fend you
the reſult of a morning's meditation.
ODE TO PATIENCE.
Unaw'd by threats, unmov'd by force,
My ſteady Soul purſues her courſe,
Collected, calm, refign'd;
Say, you who fearch with curious eyes
The fource whence human actions rife,
Say, whence this turn of mind?
'Tis Patience. . . . Lenient Goddeſs, hail!
Oh! let thy votary's vows prevail,
Thy threaten'd flight to ſtay;
Long haft thou been a welcome gueſt,
Long reign'd an inmate in this breaſt,
And rul'd with gentle ſway.
Thro' all the various turns of fate,
Ordain'd me in each ſeveral ſtate,
My wayward lot has known;
What taught me filently to bear,
To curb the figh, to check the tear,
When forrow weigh'd me down?
'Twas Patience. . . . Temperate Goddeſs, ſtay!
For ſtill thy dictates I obey,
Nor yield to Paffion's Power;
Tho' by injurious foes borne down,
My fame, my toil, my hopes o'erthrown,
In one ill-fated hour.
When
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
115
When robb'd of what I held moft dear,
My hands adorn'd the mournful bier
Of her I lov'd ſo well;
What, when mute forrow chain'd my tongue,
As o'er the fable hearfe I hung,
Forbade the tide to fwell?
"Twas Patience!... Goddeſs ever calm!
Oh! pour into my breaſt thy balm,
That antidote to pain;
Which flowing from thy nectar'd urn,
By chymiſtry divine can turn
Our loffes into gain.
When fick and languiſhing in bed,
Sleep from my reſtleſs couch had fled,
(Sleep, which even pain beguiles,)
What taught me calmly to fuftain
A feverish being rack'd with pain,
And drefs'd my looks in fmiles?
'Twas Patience! Heaven-defcended Maid!
•
Implor'd, flew fwiftly to my aid,
And lent her foſtering breaſt;
Watch'd my fad hours with parent care,
Repell'd the approaches of deſpair,
And footh'd my foul to reft.
Say, when diffever'd from his fide,
My friend, protector, and my guide,
When my prophetic foul,
Anticipating all the ftorm,
Saw danger in its direft form,
What could my fears controul?
'Twas
f
TIÓ ORIGINAL LETTERS.
'Twas Patience!... Gentle Goddefs, hear!
Be ever to thy fuppliant near,
Nor let one murmur rife;
Since ſtill ſome mighty joys are given,
Dear to her foul, the gifts of Heaven,
The fweet domeftic ties.
will not now take up your time or my own with any
affected uncafinefs about my Verſes, by way of deprecating
your cenfure, &c. I know you will like them for the fake of
the Author: and in your hands I have nothing to fear from
the ſeverity of the Critic.
Mr. Sheridan and the children join in being affectionately
remembered to you.
I am, Dear Sam,
Sincerely yours, &c.
FRANCES SHERIDAN.
This Ode to Patience is not a common-place rhapfody of
fombrous declamation which youthful poets dream, and, thoſe
eſpecially of the female clafs, are wont to think fo`charm-
ing. In every ſtanza, almoſt in every line, the amiable
writer has reference to fome peculiar diſtreſs, to which, at
one time or other, her hard condition had expofed her. She
has not given the incidents as they occurred, in an exact
chronological ſeries; but rather confulted poetical effect, more
confonant to her own feelings, and the order of nature. In
the laft ftanza but one, the fubject of which claims prece-
dence in point of time, the alludes to the fatal riot that took
place at the Theatre, on the fecond reprefentation of Maho-
met, the 2d of March, 1754, which eventually proved the
ruin of her huſband, and in a moment totally eclipfed the
flattering profpects of better days. That evening fhe was
peaceably fitting at home, in converfation with a friend,
the perſon to whom theſe Letters are addreffed; when a Man,
horrour in his countenance, breathlefs and pale, without cere-
mony
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
117
mony rushed into the parlour. . . . Oh, Madam! Smock-alley
is in flames! . . . In flames?!... Yes, all in a blaze, Madam.
... She rofe, and looking wiftfully at the door, advanced
a ftep or two towards it; but a little recovering herself,
in a half-fmothered, under voice, fhe fcarcely articulated,
Where is your Maſter? . . . At the houſe'; all is uproar and
diſtraction, and I juſt got away with my life.... She had a
heart fufceptible and feelingly alive to the calamities of her
fellow-creatures.
The alarm was fudden; it was too much :
Yet not a tear dropt; not a figh eſcaped her.
Speechless awhile and motionleſs ſhe ſtood,
In fearful freights bewilder'd and abſorpt;
A fubject for the pencil of Raphael!
What then, fo tried, was her reſource?..'twas Patience.
With eyes uprais'd, fhe, for the worst prepar'd,
With pious refignation fits her down,
And her ſmooth cheek upon her white arm leaning,
Penfive and calm, awaits the dread event.
But fhe remained not long in this diſconfolate poſture; the
carriage ftopped at the door, and Mr. Sheridan came in,
unhurt. The fervant, early in the diſturbance, anticipating
the confequence, in a panic ran home and was premature in
his account; but ſhe overlooked his rafh precipitance, and
never revealed it to his Maſter.
Mrs. Sheridan's fecond Comedy, the Dupe, was brought
out at Drury-lane, about the beginning of January, 1764,
while Mr. Sheridan was abfent in Dublin. One night at
his lodgings in Crow-ſtreet, juſt after fupper a packet was
delivered to him, which on opening proved to be a copy of
the Dupe, which Mrs. Sheridan, in a letter accompanying
it, informed him had failed; greatly owing, as it was thought,
to fome Theatrical cabals, fomented by a popular actreſs,
who conceived her confequence had been fome how injured
}
by
118
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
by the Sheridans. To thefe circumftances the fair Author
manifeftly alludes in the fourth ftanza of her Ode to Patience,
and it is more than probable, that on this very occafion it
was written. However, Mr. Sheridan, though that evening
he had exerted himſelf with great eclat in a very laborious.
part, I think Richard, confulting the inclinations of two or
three friends prefent, read to them the whole Comedy
through; and afterwards gratified them with the contents of
another letter, which at the fame time he received along with
it enclofed. I cannot take upon me to fay, that I retain it
preciſely verbatim, having never feen it but once; but I can
pofitively affirm, it was (very nearly in the words) to the
following effect:
MADAM,
To
MRS. SHERIDA N.
1
BELIEVE me, I am truly concerned that your Comedy
has met with fuch fevere, and, without flattery 1 mufl add,
fuch undeferved treatment on the ſtage. Neither am I fingu-
lar in this opinion; the rapid fale of it is an undeniable proof
of its merit, which the Public have not been blind to in the
cloſet. The demand for your piece at my fhop, has been fo
uncommonly great, that, excluſive of the copy-money, it has
enabled me to prefent you with the encloſed, of which I en-
treat your acceptance, as a ſmall teftimony of that gratitude
and refpect, with which I have the honour to ſubſcribe
myſelf,
Madam,
Your moſt obliged
And obedient humble fervant,
ANDREW MILLAR.
To the honour of a London bookfeller, the enclofed was
A BANK-BILL FOR ONE HUNDRED POUNDS fterling; the fame
fum which by agreement ſhe had before received from him
for the copy-right.
This fpeaks for itſelf and needs no comment.
MR.
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
119
TE.
MR. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYT E.
CHESTER, APRIL 30TH, 1764.
MY DEAR SAM,
I HAVE juſt time to inform you, that I landed ſafe to-
day at three, after a good paffage with abominable accommo-
dation on board. I am fetting out directly for London, and
hope to reach it by Wedneſday evening. Pray communicate
this intelligence to Knowles, and let him know, he ſhall hear
from me immediately after my arrival. I beg you will re-
member me in the kindeft manner to Mr. and Mrs. Guinneſs,
and let them know I ſhall ever retain the moſt grateful ſenſe
of their civilities to me. You ſhall hear from me foon again.
I am, Dear Sam,
Very fincerely,
And affectionately yours,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
MR. SHERIDAN TO MR.
MY DEAR SAM;
WHYTE.
RICHMOND, MAY 12TH, 1764.
I KNOW it will give you pleaſure to hear, that my
friends have fettled matters for me in fuch a way, that I
ſhall be no longer in apprehenfions with regard to what my
humane creditors may do. I am at prefent on a viſit, for a
few days, to a particular friend at Richmond, while Mrs.
Sheridan is preparing for our expedition to Scotland; on
which we ſhall fet out in eight or ten days; fo that you need
not anſwer this, or write, till I shall have given you notice
of my arrival there. One of my friends, a powerful one,
has cut out an employment for me, which will place me in a
confpicuous point of view, beyond the reach of my enemies;
and I have reafon to believe, that the thing will be done
early
3.20
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
early next Winter. Pray tell Knowles that I fhould have
writ to him, by this poft, but that I forgot to bring fome
franks down with me; I am preparing fome neceſſary papers
which I will fend to him on my return to town. The kind
concern you took in my affairs whilft I was in Dublin, has
endeared you much to me; and I hope the time is not far
off, when I fhall be able to make you fuitable returns. Pray
let me be remembered in the kindeft manner to our good
friends in Crow-ftreet, and believe me to be ever
Sincerely, and
Affectionately yours, &c.
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
MR. SHERIDAN ΤΟ MR. WHY TE.
DEAR SAM,
EDINBURGH, AUGUST 8TH, 1764.
I HAVE been fo long filent, for no other reaſon, but that
I never could find an hour in which I could fit down to write
with the leaft fatisfaction. I have paft a moft diſagreeable
time for theſe laſt three months, having never been one day
free from my old complaint, and frequently confined with
colds. This, together with fome other circumſtances, has
baffled my deſign in coming hither. The laft has been a moſt
unfortunate year; but I may hope, from the old proverb,
that things will mend foon. I fhall in a few days fet out
for London; but have two or three vifits to pay by the way;
fo that I do not expect to reach it in leſs than a fortnight or
three weeks. My plan of operations is fettled, and I am
perfectly eaſy in my mind, as I think I ſhall be guarded againſt
all events from without, and have little to fear but from ill
health. The completion of my Grammar and Dictionary
muft now employ all my time, as the foundation of my future
fortune;
1
ORIGINAL LETTER S. 121
fortune; and I doubt not but a large fuperftructure may be
raiſed on it. When that is completed, my friends have ſome-
thing in view for me, which will make me eafy during my
life; and probably enable me to provide well for my family..
I received your former, with a few lines from Mrs. Guinneſs.
Pray make my excufes to her, for not having writ any thing
in return; for I eſteem her much, and ſhall always retain a
grateful fenfe of the civilities I met with both from her and
Mr. Guinneſs. But indeed I had not fpirits to write, nor
fhould I have fat down to the task now, but to prevent your
imputing my filence to a wrong caufe. Be affured, my dear
Sam, I ſet a great value on your friendſhip, as I know it to
be fincere; a rare thing in this world!
Nor conftrue any farther my neglects
Than that poor Brutus, with himſelf at war,
Forgets the fhews of love to other men.
But I hope white hours are approaching, and then you
fhall hear often from me. I ſhall be always eager to com-
municate any good news to my friends, that they may par-
ticipate of my fatisfaction: but I have no delight in their
fympathizing with me in my diſtreſs. With reſpect to
ſharing my good fortune, I could be a very prodigal; but I
am a perfect miſer in regard to the ill, and would keep it all
to myſelf.
If Mr. Richard Chamberlaine be ftill in Dublin, re-
member me affectionately to him. I am pleaſed to hear that
his affair is in fo good a way; but fhould be glad to hear
the particulars. The letter which you mention, has never
come to Mrs. Sheridan's hands; for fhe has not received a
line from you fince our arrival here. Give my love to
Knowles, and tell him that I had nothing to ſay worth pay-
ing a filling for, and there are no franks to be had here;
but I fhall write to him foon.
R
My
122
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
My head is fo much out of order that I can add no more;
but that I am,
Möft fincerely and
Affectionately yours,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
If you anſwer this immediately, I fhall probably receive
it on my arrival in London. Direct to Bow-ftreet as ufual.
}
MR. SHERIDAN
DEAR SAM,
то MR. WHY TE.
HARROW, SEPTEMBER 4TH, 1764.
I HAD the pleaſure of receiving yours, foon after my
arrival here, which was delayed by a few vifits on the road.
I have not yet been at London; but fome of my friends have
been to ſee me here. They have now under deliberation
what plan will be beft for me to purfue; a few days will de-
termine the moſt material point, and you ſhall immediately
know the refult. Dick Chamberlaine I find is arrived; but
I have heard no particulars of him; I expect to know all
about him this evening, from Mrs. Sheridan, who has been
fome days in London on buſineſs, and is to return to-day. I
fhall write fhortly to you again, upon important matters;
at preſent I only write to fhew you, that I mean to be a
punctual correfpondent, however little I may have to fay,
and to defire that you will direct your letters to the care of
Mr. Chamberlaine, till I ſend you another addreſs, as I am
about to shift my quarters. I beg you will make my beſt
compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Guinneſs, and believe me to
be always
Sincerely and
Affectionately yours, &c.
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
MR.
!
ORIGINAL LETTER S. 123
MR. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHY TE.
BLOIS, OCTOBER 14TH, 1764.
YOU fee, my dear SAM, by the above date, that I have
earried my defign into execution, of retiring for ſome time
into France. My friends were unanimouſly of opinion that
it was the beſt meaſure I could take, in order to have leiſure
to finiſh my work, without which I could have no farther
pretenfions to any favours. My ſtate of health too made it
abfolutely neceffary that I ſhould remove into a better cli-
mate; for, as my diforder was gaining ground, I ſhould not
have been able to do any thing in England. The air here
is inconceivably fine, and the alteration it has already made
in me makes me confidently hope for a perfect cure. Mrs.
Sheridan, Charles and the two girls are with me; Dick
continues at Harrow. We are very bufy in making all our
neceffary arrangements, fo that I have not time at preſent
to enter into a detail of our affairs. The journey was con-
foundedly expenfive; but the cheapneſs of the place will
make full amends. I could fupport my family here better
upon a hundred pounds a year than upon five in London.
We live in a very commodious cottage on the Banks of the
Loire, in the ſuburbs of the town. This river is the moſt
beautiful of any in France, and the country around delight-
ful. French is fpoken and taught in its greateſt purity;
and all other articles for the children's education are to be
had at a very cheap rate. As I can now bid defiance to
my merciless creditors, I fhall be able to make fuch terms
with them before my return as will make me eaſy for the
reſt of my life.
Pray make my most affectionate compliments to Mr. and
Mrs. Guinneſs. I was forry I could not ſee him in London;
but I did not think it fafe to go there, and I fet out for
Dover the day after I heard of his arrival. I ſhall be always
glad
i
124
ORIGINAL LETTER $.
1
glad to hear of their welfare, and beg you will not fail to
give me accounts of them when you write; my beſt re-
gards and good wishes attend alfo Mr. and Mrs. Calder-
wood. I ſend you encloſed a letter to Knowles, as I think
you are at prefent better able to pay the poſtage than
he; but don't tell him I ſaid fo. You fee Iufe you with-
out ceremony; I confider you as my friend; for,
I am fincerely
Yours, &c.
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
Direct to me, A Monfieur, Monfieur Sheridan, chez
Madame des Combes, au Bourgh St. Jean, a Blois.
MR. SHERIDAN TO MR. WHYTE.
DEAR SAM,
BLOIS, DECEMBER IST, 1764.
I HAVE been for fome time in the greatest furpriſe, and
under the utmoſt uneafinefs at not hearing any thing front
Dublin. I wrote to you foon after my arrival here, with a
letter inclofed to Knowles, I wrote at the fame time to fome
other friends; but not a line have I had in anſwer. I fear, I
ſhould rather ſay hope, that my letters have fome how miſ-
carried; for ſuch a neglect of my friends, in my preſent ſitua-
tion, would be infupportable. I have received much benefit
from the air of this country, which is reckoned the purest in
France, and I can labour hard now without feeling any iil
effects from it. Mrs. Sheridan too is much better; the
children too are in the higheſt health and ſpirits, and hard at
work to acquire French, as they are not allowed to ſpeak a
word of English, except on Sundays.
Our fituation here is
as comfortable as we could hope for in our prefent circum-
ftances.
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
125
ftances. When I know that my letters reach you I have
much to write to you about. Your letter directed for me in
London, did not reach that place till after my departure; but
was encloſed to me ſome time ſince by my brother Chamber-
laine. There were a few lines in it from a lady, which call
for an anſwer. -
I am much obliged to you, my Dear Madam, for your kind
remembrance of me, and the folicitude you exprefs at the un-
happy ftate of my affairs. Had Dublin abounded with fuch
good hearts as yours, I might ſtill have been employed in the
fervice of my country. But I hope yet to be in a state of
ferving them, when I fhall neither need their affiftance, nor
value their thanks. The ingratitude of the Public has been a
general topic in all ages and countries, and a wife man is to lay
his account, that he will never meet with any thing elſe, in
return for his endeavours to ferve the many-headed monfter.
I hope your ſtate of health is better than it was, and that
Mr. Guinneſs, my dear little pupil, Bob, and Dick are well.
My beſt wiſhes ever attend you all.
Now, Sam, to return to you, though it is only to bid you
farewel. If I do not receive an anſwer to this in due time,
I ſhall be under terrible apprehenfions.
Yours ever,
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
Direct A Monfieur, Monfieur Sheridan, chez Madame De
Combes Bourgh St. Jean, a Blois.
MR. SHERIDAN TO MR.
DEAR SAM,
WHYTE.
BLOIS, MAY 24TH, 1765.
I HAVE had a long fit of my old diforder, which has lain
heavy upon me for almost three months paft. This malady
is to me of the moft mortifying nature in the world; for at a
time
1
It
{
526
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
time when I was pushing on vigorously a work, which it is
of the utmoſt importance to me to finiſh as ſoon as poffible, it
put as effectual a ftop to my progrefs, as if it had déprived
me of the uſe of my hands. Its nature is to take the mind
priſoner and bind up all its faculties, as the gout does thoſe of
the body. The leaſt attention, even to the writing of a letter,
becomes then an inſupportable fatigue. Thoughts however
continue to circulate; but they will take their own free courſe,
and will fuffer no constraint. The tyranny of thought over
the mind, when the power of guiding or confining its courfe
is taken away, is a cruel one. One train of reflection has
fucceeded to another in this way, without bringing any thing
of pleaſant with them. The feveral fcenes and deſigns of
my paft life preſented themſelves at different times to view,
without affording any confolation, but in the rectitude of my
intentions; and upon the whole I find my fituation in life,
very fimilar to that which is admirably drawn by Pope,
where in anſwer to the Queſtion, What is it to be wife?
He fays:
'Tis but to know how little can be known,
To fee all others faults, and feel our own:
Condemned in buſineſs or in arts to drudge,
Without a fecond, or without a judge.
Truths would you teach, or fave a finking land,
All fear, none aid you, and few underſtand:
Painful pre-eminence! yourſelf to view,
Above life's weaknefs and its comforts too.
One of the greateſt comforts of life, I have often been cruelly
diſappointed in; I mean friendſhip: However, that ſhall not
make me give up my expectation of ftill finding that beſt
balm of an afflicted mind, in the few for whom I ſtill feel it,
and from whom I expect a return. I will believe that you
are INCAPABLE of change in that refpect; but wish you
would
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
X27
w what
3
$
}
2
would give me more frequent marks that I ſtill live in your
memory. Let us have no retroſpects; be a good boy for the
future, and I promiſe you I'll keep pace with you. I find
myſelf much better within theſe two or three days, and hope
the warm weather will fet me up. In every other reſpect,
except that curfed diforder, I find myſelf much benefited by
this excellent climate. Before the laſt attack, however, I had
finiſhed my Dictionary, and was entering upon my Grammar;
I ſhall now try to make up loſt time.
Mrs. Sheridan has finiſhed a Comedy, which I think an
excellent one, fpick and ſpan new throughout. She is now
employed in concluding the Memoirs of Sidney Biddulph; to
which ſhe was folicited by abundance of people before her
departure for England. She beſtows many maledictions on
the French, which quarrels with her tongue. The children
are making great progrefs in it; and I have made ſuch ad-
vances that I am their maſter.
The unreaſonable part of the creditors, ftill adhere to their
abfurd maxims, fo that I know not when I fhall have it in
my power to return. I am much pleafed at the account you
give me of Mr. Guinnefs; but what a plague became of your
geography, when you talked of his making Blois his way to
Lyons. My beſt wiſhes attend Mrs. Guinnefs, and her little
family. Pray, Sam, write to me often; fend all manner of
news, good or bad; you cannot conceive what little things
give pleaſure at ſuch a diſtance. Mrs. Sheridan and all the
little ones fend their loves.
I am ever fincerely
And affectionately,
Yours, &c.
THOMAS SHERIDAN.
Theſe letters from Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan, with the two
former, annexed to our REMARKS on Bofwell, &c. which in
the ftrict order of time ſhould have taken place here, include
the
#
128
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
=
the whole of what was judged neceffary for the illuſtration
and confirmation of facts on the prefent occafion. The fol-
lowing letter is in anſwer to one fent to Mr. Burton of
London, together with a printed copy of heads of a plan laid
before a felect committee of the Hibernian Society, then
lately inſtituted in Dublin, for the Improvement of Educa-
tion, and for carrying Mr. Sheridan's Scheme into immediate
execution.
MR. BURTON TO MR. WHYTE,
DEAR SIR,
JUNE 12TH, 1758.
YOU fee by my abhorrence of all delay, in returning an
anſwer to your first letter, how greatly defirous I am of
giving birth to that correfpondence you are pleaſed. to
mention. My activity in this article is in effect a ſpeedy
return made to a firſt vifit: which is no lefs an overture
to future friendſhip, than it is an earneſt of an immediate
'eſteem. Men of letters are the game, of which I am in
continual purfuit; and where I am fo happy as to find the
leaft traces of learning, like SCIPIO EMILIANUS, I hug the
bewitching creature: and though perhaps, I may not be ſo
fortunate as he was, to meet with a POLYBIUS, or a PANETIUS,
yet I experience a certain degree of warmth in fuch a funîhine,
in which I delight to wanton,
From
Edmund Burton, Efq. M. A. Counſellor at Law, and fometime Fellow
of Trinity College, Cambridge. This gentleman has occafionally en-
riched the Common-wealth of Letters with feveral valuable productions.
Among others, The Satyrs of Perfius, translated into Engliſh, with Notes
critical and explanatory, by Edmund Burton, Eiq. Barrister at Law, ap-
peared in 1752, which is the book to which he alludes in the latter part
of the letter.... He was by marriage great-uncle to Mrs. Whyte, on the
maternal fide; a family nearly related to Serjeant Hewitt, late Lord High
Chancellor of Ireland,
॥
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
129
*
के
1
From hence you may naturally conclude, as I have difco-
vered a taſte and difcernment in you inferior to few; that I
promiſe myſelf much ſatisfaction, from whatever obſervations
you will favour me with. They will excite and enliven that
zeal (for I profeſs no more) I have for literary purſuits;
which, too frequently, for want of thofe in whom I would
wish to find the fame difpofitions with myſelf, fickens and
dies away. Should you now and then communicate any
thing you think curious in your reading; and fometimes ſend
me a gem, which you have picked out of the rich mines of
antiquity, that I may furvey its beauties as well as yourſelf;
you will make me happy, by keeping that flame alive.
I must confefs to you, at the fame time, though, in
this part of the world, I can feldom converfe with fuch a one
as yourſelf (the little, mechanical, groveling genius, prevail-
ing moftly hereabouts) I find a comfortable retreat, for
want of action, among my books and papers: and I dare
fay, you are never better pleaſed with Tully, than when,
from a too great fatiety of company, which was often his
cafe, and the very reverſe of mine, he confeffes himſelf to
be moft pleafed amidst his books and ftatues. Summum me
eorum fludium tenet, &c. is an expreffion of that great man,
which at the fame time that it fhews the generous ardour of
his mind, muſt needs infpire all thofe who view him in this
light, with a fondneſs for his memory, that knows no bounds.
But I'll tire you no longer with idle defcants of this nature.
I'll proceed to the contents of your letter, from which I can
plainly fee, that you have not read that great man's letters to
Atticus in vain. Give me leave to congratulate you upon
the fuccefs, that is likely to attend the eſtabliſhment of a
Gymnafium in Ireland. I'll venture to fay, no confiderable
part of that fuccefs will be owing to any one, who is better
able to conduct his part in it, than yourſelf. I admire the
S
plan
·
1
130
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
plan you were fo kind to fend me, and the more fo, as it is
greatly deftitute of all that ſhallow pedantry, generally ob-
fervable in inſtitutions of this nature. A rich vein of imagina-
tion runs through the whole. There is vifibly a mind that
thinks well, and a reſolution bold to execute what it thinks.
Superior to all mechanical rules, the Author of this plan
confiders things, not as they are, but as they ſhould be. 'Tis
owing to a contempt of nature and reafon, that Schools and
Univerſities are the Afylums for ignorance. Should the exe-
cution be equal to the ſpirit of the plan, there will be no
danger that the architect will alter his model, and defcend to
think ill, for the common venal reafon, becauſe it is fome-
times more intereſting to think ill, than to think well.
Honour, fhame and pleaſure, are three incentives for the
younger part of life, which the wifeft of the ancients had
not courage enough to propoſe. Such a mixed ſcene of
action and contemplation as is here intended, far out-does
the admired Republic of Plato: fince every article in the
former is practical, whereas moſt of the maxims in the latter
muft e ver be ideal
You mention the book I defired Mrs. Whyte to convey
to you.
It is a trifle not worth your acceptance. I ſhould
have defired your acceptance of it, when I had your company,
had I thought it any way deferving of it. I begin to have a
very mean opinion of it; for there are many things I fee in
it, which I wifh had been otherwiſe.
Mrs. Whyte's great diſtance from her friends, you ſay, has
produced that uneafineſs, which is often confequential to it.
'Tis a kind of fine, that nature fets upon us, for quitting
thoſe uſages and cuſtoms, which are, with propriety, ſaid to be
a fecond nature. To part with what we have been long ac-
quainted, is a lofs, fay fome, fuperior to all requital.
Nos Patriæ fines, &c.
you
ORIGINAL LETTER S. 131
you know very well, is a complaint as old as Virgil; if not
as old as the Creation. The occafion of their removal
was neceffity. Mrs. Whyte's has been choice. Time, expe-
rience, familiarity with the place, added to your more pre-
vailing influence, will make all things eafy to her; and fhe
muft very foon know,
levius fit patentiâ
Quicquid corrigere eft nefas.
I am, Dear Sir,
Petty- France,
Weſtminſter.
Your moſt obedient-
And fincere
Humble fervant,
EDMUND BURTON.
Mrs. Burton joins with me in her beft affections to you
and Mrs. Whyte.
The great object of all Mr. Sheridan's purſuits, refpect-
ing himſelf, was independence; to be attained, not by profti-
tuting his talents to the finifter views of a party, and gulling
the multitude with inflammatory harangues, but by his own
perfonal exertions in fome ſcheme of practical utility; the
foremoſt of which he confidered Education. To this end,
December 6th, 1757, he gave a public breakfaſt at the Muſic-
hall in Fiſhamble-ſtreet; after which he pronounced an Oration
on the Inſtitution of Youth, before a very numerous and re-
ſpectable audience, previouſly invited for the purpoſe ; many
of the firſt characters in the kingdom, for rank and learning,
were prefent; who, not only concurred with him in fenti-
ment, but as an earneſt of their determination to give his
ſcheme energy and fupport, entered into an immediate
fubfcription,
*See note on a former occafion, page 81.
132
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
fubfcription, amounting to near one thouſand pounds ſterling,
to enable him to proceed; and formed themſelves into a body
under the name of the Hibernian Society for the Improvement
of Education; a treaſurer and proper officers for the better
conducting the fame, were alſo chofen, and after feveral
meetings and confultations, a felect committee out of the
body at large was appointed, to confider Mr. Sheridan's pro-
poſals in the detail; which on minute inveſtigation were
unanimouſly approved, and reported accordingly. Thus far
having accompliſhed his point, and proper perfons, as he ima-
gined, being fixed on to conduct the buſineſs in his abfence,
at the cloſe of the ſeaſon 1758, he went to England for the
purpoſe, among others, of procuring fuitable maſters; but
when he thought, good eafy man, full furely his glories were
a ripening, his ill ftars were confpiring to undo him. Ad-
vantage was taken of his fituation. The real or fuppofed
prejudices fubfifting againſt his profeffion were played off
againſt him, and letters upon letters were fent him, to ſhew
that an Actor, at the head of fuch a Seminary, would be an
infurmountable obftacle to its fuccefs. It was a fpecious ma-
noeuvre, and he voluntarily relinquiſhed, at leaſt for the preſent,
the conduct of a fcheme, for which he was decidedly compe-
tent, and which he had been labouring to accomplish the
better part of his life. He furrendered however upon certain
ftipulated conditions, which conditions were never complied
with, and the only favour he obtained was the liberty of
nominating a ſubſtitute.
Sometime after the plan was in part carried into execution;
and, on a general acceptation of the principles laid down by
Mr. Sheridan, the Hibernian Academy, King-ſtreet, Oxman-
town, was opened under the fuperintendancy of the Reverend
Dr. Leland, S. F. T. C. D. Monday, January 8, 1759. Mr.
Barry Yelverton, now Lord Yelverton, Chief Baron of his
Majefty's
{
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
133
43
Majefty's Court of Exchequer in Ireland, was elected head
claffic-mafter, and the Reverend Mr. Williamſon, who had
lately opened ſchool in Queen-ftreet, was appointed Mr. Yel-
verton's co-adjutor, in the fecond chair. The English depart-
ment was all along, from the beginning, intended for my
Father; and Dr. Leland, with whom he was on a footing of
particular intimacy, was very folicitous that he ſhould undertake
it; for in an inſtitution where the advancement and perfec-
tion of the English Language was the leading principle, on
the dereliction of the original founder, my Father, being per-
fectly poffeffed of his ideas and happy modes of inſtruction,
was thought the only one competent to fupply the vacancy,
and diſcharge the duties of that important department. But
being apprized, that Mr. Sheridan had relinquiſhed his ſtation
as ſuperintendant, and having a flouriſhing eſtabliſhment of
his own, he declined accepting the Doctor's offer. Mr.
Williamfon not very long after dying, and Mr. Yelverton
having gone to the Temple, the Reverend John Fletcher was
appointed fole Maſter. A year or two after he alſo died, and
made room for his fucceffor, the Reverend Andrew Buck.
By this time the principles upon which the Seminary was in-
ftituted were in a great meaſure laid afide and forgotten; the
ſubſcribers did not think it neceffary to renew their fubfcrip-
tions; many of them indeed were never fulfilled; and it was
left like any other ſchool to take its chance. Mr. Buck was
a man of learning and fome experience, having had a ſchool
at Stephen's-green fome years before he moved to King-street
on the demife of Mr. Fletcher, and under his conduct this
new eſtabliſhment flouriſhed feveral years with deferved repu-
tation; at his death, the houſe being much out of repair, it was
neglected, and the inftitution fell to the ground.
Had Mr. Sheridan been a man of the world, he probably
would have played his cards better, and never would have
been
134
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
been fupplanted. But, elated with his partial ſucceſs, in
ftating to the fociety the pecuniary arrangements, particularly
for the profeffors in their reſpective departments, which
were liberal to a degree, and touching his expectations
of emolument to himſelf, which were founded on a con-
tingency of furplus after defraying every expence, he was
too explicit; perhaps too fanguine. His arguments were in-
deed cogent, and his conclufions gained him credit and ap-
plauſe; but his frankneſs awakened jealoufy, and expoſed him
to invidious attacks. The profpect he exhibited was a temp-
tation to circumvent him, and among his hearers unluckily
there were fome, who neither wanted inclination nor ability
to ſpeculate upon his capital. That was the rock he ſplit
upon, and but for that, to a moral certainty, he might have
arrived at that ſtate of independence for which he panted;
and at this day, his family, though fortunately in fituations
that don't want it, might have derived honour and advantage
from fo noble an Inſtitution.
The three following letters are in no refpect whatever
connected with the general fubject of the preceding pages;
but, for their intrinfic merit, were thought worthy of pre-
ferving. They are the only remains of a lady fometime de-
ceaſed, addreffed to her preceptor by the amiable writer, in
her ſeventeenth year. Her beauty and perfonal accompliſh-
ments rendered her a confpicuous ornament in the circles of
the young and gay; and, for the due exerciſe of every domeftic
virtue, in private life, fhe was, by all who had the hap-
pinefs of her acquaintance, eſteemed a pattern of excellence.
She was married at a very early age, wealthily, perhaps not
happily; yet in the midſt of opulence and temptation, ſhe
was never influenced by faſhion or caprice to the neglect of
any
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
135
>
any religious or moral obligation. Having laudably dif
charged every duty of an affectionate and tender mother to
two lovely infants, in giving life to a third fhe forfeited her
own. She was an only child; her difconfolate parents with
her loſt every comfort and did not long furvive. Theſe un-
ftudied effays of her juvenile pen will give the reader a faint.
idea of what ſhe might have been, had it pleaſed Heaven
to fpare her.
To MR. WHYTE, GRAFTON-STREET, DUBLIN,
MINIKIN COTTAGE, SEPT. 28, 1771.
NEVER did I more fincerely wish to fee Mr. Whyte
than at this minute, your letter has fo pleafed and perplexed
me, that really I am at a lofs to anſwer it. In the first place,
your apologies are uſeleſs; be affured, after the many great
obligations I have received from you, it would be a very hard
talk to perfuade my pride I was forgot; that uſeful paffion
had already fuggefted every thing you obligingly afcribe to
my good ſenſe and good nature. I remember you once told
me I ſhould by no means indulge pride; but I know you will
allow it to be very impolitick as well as ungenerous to ca
off an old friend, and fuch I have often found pride; but
never more uſeful than at prefent, as it has faved me from fo
ſevere a mortification, as believing myfelf neglected by you.
By the diflike you have heard me exprefs to writing letters,
I only meant the generality of correfpondents to whom one
fcribbles accounts of marriages, divorces, and deaths, inter-
fperfed with unmerited panygericks, fcandalous anecdotes,
and moral reflections; but as I think it unneceſſary to ſay I do
not hold you in that clafs, I fhall only affure you, I will be
very punctual in anſwering every letter you favour me with.
Your wiſdom uſed to appear fupernatural to me, and I could
almoſt think fo ftill, for I had more than half refolved to try
if I could prevail on you to continue to me the pleaſure of
hearing
г36
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
.
hearing from you, without expecting a return; but I felt fo
much reluctance at lofing the pleaſure of writing to you, that
your diſapprobation only was wanting to determine me
againſt it.
Your putting your letter on the footing of a firſt viſit
accounts to me for the number of fine compliments it con-
tains; but give me leave to afk, why you are ſo very much
afraid I ſhould think you flatter? I cannot expreſs my grati-
tude for your kind promife of criticifm and advice; but I
hope to convince you of it by my attention to both, which
you are perfectly right in fuppofing to be ever acceptable.
Although your letter has much delighted me, I own it has
not fatisfied me; for I wifhed to know many particulars of
your journey and voyage which I muſt wait for till your
next; for notwithſtanding your queſtion, you have only writ
fufficient to make me regret there is no more.
I am come down ſtairs to my mother for an anſwer to
your flouriſh of thanks; the fays fhe has received many very
great obligations from Mr. Whyte; but never had it in her
power to confer one; I now repent I asked her: I don't
like fuch brilliant things from one's mother, there may be
ugly comparifons drawn; but I am refolved never to blot
any thing I think you can poffibly make ſenſe of, as 1 am
fure of a candid allowance for all my faults; however, to
avoid mama's wit difgracing mine, I give you notice, that
for the future I will not deliver any compliments you fhall
fend me, and alfo that you are to fuppofe at the bottom
of all my letters, the family join, &c.-In return, when-
ever I hear from you I will fay fome very ſmart thing
for you (if I don't forget) in which I will try not to diſgrace
your invention.
I did not receive your favour till Thurſday, when I was
dreffing for Woolwich affembly; I had fome thoughts of
returning
ORIGINAL LETTER S. 137
returning your vifit in full drefs; but my head was that
day fo full of what was to happen, and the next day of
what had happened, that I thought it was much better to
let my ideas fubfide a little, (which you know they foon
do.) This I mention to account to you for a delay of
three days in acknowledging the high obligation I am under
to you for this laft proof of your attention to me.
My uncle K *** is at Tunbridge, and I know you will
be glad to hear he is much better. I think I have obeyed
you now fully, as you will foon have my anſwer, and it is
of a very reaſonable extent; fo I will detain you no longer
than to affure you once more, that your letters will ever
be moft welcome to,
Dear Sir,
Your grateful and
Affectionate Pupil,
To MR. WHYTE.
M.-A. K ***.
CHARLTON, AUGUST 6, 1772.
DEAR SIR,
YOUR letter, though by date it fhould have come much.
fooner, was not received until yeſterday, when a gentleman
left that and a book; but neither his name nor addrefs.
You cannot imagine my furpriſe on finding you had com-
plied with the requeſt in my laſt; for I affure you, upon my
word of honour, I never received any thing from you fince
your letter of November the 9th, and I can anſwer for
Mifs Cooper, whom I had the pleaſure of ſeeing feveral
times laft winter, and never without mutual enquiries about
Mr. Whyte. She feared you were ill, and often ſaid ſhe
would write; but I thought you had not time to fpare for
T
your
138
ORIGINAL LETTERS.
your trifling correfpondent; fo left you to your leiſure, re-
folving to be thankful for the few favours you would vouch-
fafe me, and to wait with patience for them. I am greatly
mortified by thinking how much pleaſure I have loft by the
negligence of that wicked Mr. Johnſon; not only in reading
the valuable writings he has detained, but in the ſuſpenſion
of a correſpondence I fo highly eſteemed. The only excufe
he can make is, that he was fenfible of the value of what
you committed to his care, and fuffered felf-love to get the
better of probity; however, I will fearch after him, for
which purpoſe I wish you had given me a more explicit
direction. I do not wonder at the anger fo viſible in your
letter, nor does it give me much pain, as I know this will
remove it; for which I am ſo impatient, that in ſpite of
curiofity, and a violent tooth-ach, I have fat down to write
without even reading in the book, you ſo condefcendingly
fent me, 'till I diſcharge my confcience by writing. So I
will not thank you before I know for what.
Mifs Cooper (whom I fhall write to as foon as I conclude
this) ſpent the winter in London; but had not the pleaſure
fhe propoſed herſelf there, as Mrs. Hamilton was in great
diſtreſs moſt of the time for poor Mifs Hamilton, whofe life
was deſpaired of, for a long time, as ſhe had a dangerous
fever, and recovered very flowly, while her Father was in
Ireland; but I have the pleaſure of informing you the is
much better, and going to Briſtol for the reſtoration of her
health, which I fincerely hope will have the deſired effect.
Mifs K***k, an intimate friend of Mifs Cooper's, whom
you might have ſeen with her at Bromley, had a violent
fever about the fame time, which fettled in her brain; fhe
lived for fome months in the moſt deplorable ſtate of mad-
nefs, fo that her death was conſidered as a bleſſing by her
friends.
Mifs Cooper is returned to her lodgings at Bromley.
I did
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
139
I did not expect that the next letter I wrote you, would
contain apologies for myſelf; for on the contrary, I intended
it to be in the true ſpirit of haughtiness, as I did not think
you
could plead an excufe fufficient for your breach of pro-
mife, in not coming at Chriftmas; however I have it under
your own hand, that you will come now, therefore. fhall
keep all my reproaches 'till I ſee you, and if you write to
me immediately that I am forgiven my unintentional offence,
and come very foon, perhaps I fhall fhew my wonderous
placable diſpoſition, and graciouſly remit your fault; but if
you do not bring your apology in perfon-take the
confequence.
I ſhould have told you long before, that my Father and
Mother are very glad to hear from you now, and were very
forry not to hear fooner; that they hope to ſee you this fum-
mer, but fear they shall not, well knowing you are a gentle-
man very liable to accidents, and diſappointing your friends,
as already mentioned, &c. &c. But I have faid ſo much
about my own joy and forrow that I will not repeat theirs;
but muſt beg you will write to me as foon as convenient
after the receipt of this, as you know you are in my debt for
the rest of your journey from England, your laſt account
ending at your arrival at Conway.
My Mother defires me to tell you fhe hopes to fee you
before you get this, fo I will not detain you longer than to
remind you, that your prefence will give real pleaſure to
us all; but particularly to
Your grateful and
Impatient pupil,
M.-A. K✶✶✶
P. S. Dr. Hawkefworth's petulance and your cool and
gentlemanlike manner of taking him down, is much talked of
at Bromley; and I can truly affure you, that, even at his own
door, the tide of approbation runs ftrongly in your favour.
Το
140
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
To MR. WHYTE, GRAFTON-STREET, DUBLIN.
DEAR SIR,
LONDON, DEC. 7, 1772.
ON communicating your welcome letter (which arrived
this day) to my Father, he defired I would write immediately
to ſuſpend your intentions of fending over the books, as he
apprehends they will be liable to a very high duty if im-
ported either bound or fewed; however, he will inform him-
felf particularly, and write to you in a few days. The mul-
tiplicity of daily publications here has, I fuppofe, prevented
my feeing any extracts from your works, eſpecially as we
don't take the paper which contains the poem you mention;
but I will endeavour to find it out. I make no doubt of the
book fucceeding to your wishes; there are numerous pieces in
it whoſe beauty muft ftrike every reader, though there are
fome which will be beft reliſhed by thofe who know the per-
fons or circumſtances they allude to.
1 fhall not fay we were diſappointed at your not mention-
ing any intention of not vifiting us this Christmas-we are
now fo accuſtomed to expect you by your own promife, that
I ſuppoſe it is to be a favour, that you now plainly fhew us
you don't intend to come; 'tis very well, Sir; but I have
hopes that you may be obliged to come yet, painful as the
journey feems to be to you; for you muſt allow, that if you
were on the ſpot you could tranfact this buſineſs better your-
felf, than any other can for you; befides, I don't think my
Father underſtands it, and, in fhort, for every reaſon I would
adviſe you to come in perfon, though I have no expectations
that you will: a thought ftrikes me that you may intend it;
but out of pure contradiction you have concealed it; if ſo,
that is really very cruel, and I am fadly mortified with it, by
the fight of fo much blank paper at the end of your letter;
indeed I never intended any fuch hint as you ſeem to think
about
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
141
about the length of your favours, and I promiſe you I would
much rather fill my paper, be it ever fo large, than receive
fuch another tantalizing epiftle as your laft: I am vexed as
often as I look on it, and reflect what a number of ingenious
fentences might have fhined on that ſpace much to my plea-
ſure and advantage, or how far you might have continued
your journal, which I now deſpair of ever feeing concluded.
I beg you will not revenge yourſelf again without knowing
you have cauſe to be offended; for I am fure you will not
look upon any thing unintentional as fuch, and I affure you
it was my humility (which I now moſt heartily repent of)
that cauſed that unfortunate paragraph. There is but one
part of your letter I like; I don't afk pardon for ſaying ſo,
both becauſe I have leave to criticife upon your writings, and
becauſe I am now afraid to apologize for any thing, as you
know people who have feverely fuffered for one fault, are too
apt to run into the oppoſite extreme: that one part is where
you give me an opportunity of obliging you, which will be
ever moſt acceptable to me; but the rest of the letter con-
tains only infifting upon the confirmation of a promife I was
always unwilling to make, fcolding, flattering, and threatning
me for endeavouring to eſcape it, and intreaties to make
your prefence here ufelefs to yourself; I muſt tell you I
don't like fuch letters, which is an expreffion I thought it
would have been impoflible for me to have uſed to you; but
I am ſo provoked at the delicate malice of your laſt page,
that I am refolved to be faucy in order to try if that will
produce an anſwer that may compenfate by its length and
ſpeed, for my difappointment in the laft.
In fpite of my anger I can't help telling you, that if any
thing elſe fhould occur to you wherein we can ſerve you, we
fhall with great pleaſure execute your orders; but we ſhall
be yet more pleaſed if you will come yourſelf and ſettle the
matter
142
ORIGINAL LETTER S.
matter in perfon. I hope neither "unavoidable neceffity,"
nor Lord Louth, will detain you this vacation from paying
that vifit to London which has been fo long expected by
your friends here; but by none more impatiently than,
Dear Sir,
Your moſt grateful Pupil,
M.-A. K *
THIS little Mifcellaneous Production is now brought to a
final period. The following letter, concife and fimple as it is
(together with the anſwer) is inferted as one proof at leaſt,
that ancient virtue is not wholly baniſhed the earth; and by
the few who have minds yet tuned to the confolations of
Friendship, it will not be deemed an unſuitable conclufion.
It affords a ſketch of diſintereſted attachment, that commenced
between the parties at fchool, and, though early called off by
very different purſuits, and ſcarcely ever three months to-
gether refident in the fame kingdom, is of upwards of half a
century's duration. * A rare example in any age, and hardly
to have been expected in critical times like the prefent! †
Amicus certus cernitur in incerta re.
Such
*Mr. Vickers, the writer of the letter, was many years an officer in
the army, and did the State fome fervice. He had a brother alfo at the
fame fchool, Lewis Vickers, who had afterwards a command in the navy,
and to the infinite regret of all who knew him, loft his life in the excess
of his ardour againſt a fuperior force.
+ The deſperate ftate of infecurity, which, at the period alluded to,
prevailed in Ireland, is fufficiently notorious. The accounts of a traitorous
combination formed in that kingdom, "the most dangerous and fingular
which is to be found in the annals of the civilized world,”(1) had been car-
ried over and ſpread throughout Wales. Numbers of families, infirm
old men, women and children, of confideration and opulence at home,
had fed thither from the horrors of unbridled robbery and affaffination,
which
(1) Ld. Chancellor's speech in anfwer to Ld. Moira, Mond. Feb. 19, 1798.
ORIGINAL LETTER S. 143
1
Poets
Such an incident in the boafted ages of antiquity, under
Greek or Roman names, could not fail of celebrity.
would have adorned it in lofty and heroic fong; Moraliſts
would have defcanted upon it in their treatiſes; and Critics
and Commentators would have blazoned it forth in glowing
and permament colours: but, a truce to pedantry; with your
leave, courteous Reader! the letter fhall be its own interpreter.
To SAMUEL WHYTE, Esq. GRAFTON-STREET, DUBLIN.
HOLYHEAD, THE 29TH MAY, 1798.
DEAR MR. WHYTE,
DUBLIN ſeems to be in a very unpleaſant ſtate; you and
your old friend are at a time of life, that retirement is moſt
agreeable to them both; come over to me;
take your
chance
with a bachelor, where you will have a warm bed and a
hearty welcome. I beg my beft compliments to your Son
and Daughter: I am,
My dear Mr. WHYTE,
Yours fincerely,
WILLIAM VICKERS.
To
which pervaded moft parts of that diſtracted country, and raged at the
very doors of the capital; and many of thoſe unhappy fugitives are at
this day, [July the 20th, 1798] wandering about dependent on the caſual
bounty of the hofpitable natives of that ancient and renowned principality.
The communication between the two hores is in all cafes open and con-
venient; they had the printed documents of whatever was in agitation,
confirmed by numerous living teftimony, in their hands. They had
heard that a horde of midnight conspirators had difperfed themſelves
through every quarter of the metropolis, for the purpofe of its deftruction:
the taking of their Chief, a man of high pedigree, Saturday May the 19th,
though it gave them a momentary check, in fact accelerated their defign;
and the night of the 23d was fixed on for a general rifing, to burn the
city, and without diftin&tion of age or fex, to maffacre the peaceable in-
habitants of every deſcription; and fo imminent was the crisis of their
fate, that, if but a fingle hour more had elapfed without prevention, the
blow would have been ftruck. It was alfo univerfally known in Wales,
that Dublin was proclaimed in a state of infurrection, and ſubject to
martial law; and that the bloody ensigns of rebellion, with all its favage
concomitants, braved defiance to the laws in open day, difplaying ſcenes
of treachery and evaftion thro' the country from one end to the other;
under thefe impreffions, Mr. Vickers' friendly invitation was diſpatched.
144 ORIGINAL LETTER S.
To WILLIAM VICKERS, ESQ. HOLYHEAD.
DUBLIN, JUNE 6TH, 1798.
MY VERY DEAR AND VALUABLE OLD FRIEND,
I HAVE received your very kind and welcome letter,
and eftimate your good intention and friendly invitation at
this perilous juncture, as I ought. I do moft fincerely affure
you, nothing that has happened theſe many years, has more
thoroughly gratified the feelings of my heart; and I have only
to regret, that at preſent I cannot avail myfelf of your kind-
nefs. The Almighty Difpofer of Events, who has hitherto
been my Protector, has appointed me a ſtation to maintain,
and I muſt not defert my poft. I have a Son and Daughter
and three infant Grand-children, whofe Protector under God
I ſtill am, and to whom my prefence is neceffary, and can-
not reconcile it to myſelf to abandon them in theſe trouble-
fome times; troubleſome indeed they truly are. Hereafter
I may take advantage of your kindneſs. Wales is a delight-
ful, a happy country, to which you know I have long looked
forwards as an afylum in the evening of life, from anxiety
and fatigue, of which my portion has not been a ſmall one;
and I really think there are few living who could more
cordially guard the fire-fide, and fmoke a comfortable pipe
together, than your old friend and you. I am no politician,
and therefore, at prefent, can entertain you with little in
that way; things however, I imagine, are not growing worſe;
rather, I would perfuade myſelf, taking a turn for the better;
though really bad enough. In hopes, therefore, of their
coming about, I cloſe my letter, wiſhing you every happineſs,
with this affurance, that I am
Grafton-firect, No. 75.
My worthy Friend,
Moft fincerely yours,
SAMUEL WHYTE.
EXTRA C T S, &c.
145
Y
3
L
THE
THE Origin of the Story of the HERMIT AND
ANGEL was a fubject of much enquiry in the days of
Addiſon, Pope and Swift; and the late publication of it in
the Third Edition of WHYTE'S POEMS, from that obfolete
folio of Wynkyn de Worde's, has been a new ſpur to the
curiofity of the Literati: happy had it been for the Preſent
Times, if Speculations equally harmleſs could have contented
them. The old faſhioned dreſs in which we have reſtored
it to the Public, though evidently the fame in which it was
originally introduced to the English Reader, appears to be
a tranflation; it is faid, from the French. The French copy
we have not feen; nor perhaps any one elſe, in this, or the
preceding century; but by perſevering reſearch, the ſtory has
been traced to one of the rareſt in the catalogues of rare books,
the GESTA ROMANORUM; which, after long and almoſt
hopeleſs enquiry, was diſcovered in the library of Trinity
College, Dublin. CC. 23, 15. It is termed an octavo, pro-
bably a pot octavo, being precifely five inches four-tenths, by
three inches eight-tenths. Two-third of the title, from top
to bottom, is irregularly torn away, and, being of a quaint
device, cannot be made out: The imprint is wanting; but,
by the imperfect remains, it feems to have been edited fome-
where in France. It is cloſe fet in a fmall Gothic type, and
almoſt in every line we meet with words ftrangely contracted;
for inſtance, Hois for Hominis; mie, miferecordiæ; Oi, Omni, &c.
The folia or leaves, not paged; but numbered, as cuſtomary with
our earlieſt typographers, making in all 172, containing 181
capitula or chapters, with a colophon annexed, as follows, viz.
Ex Gefis Romanorum cum pluribus applicatis Hyfloriis de
Virtutibus ac Pitiis miflice ad intelle&us tranfumptis recolle&orii.
Finis, Experi. Anno, noſtre falutis MCCCCCVIII.
For an Account of this extraordinary Book, fee Tyrwhitt's
Chaucer, vol. iv. and Warton's English Poetry, vol. iii.
From the Edition of 1508, we now give the archetype, to
which our old Black Letter Friends, Dr. Henry More and
their feveral fucceffors, are indebted.
छ
THE
HERED I T A,
Er Geftis Romanorum, Ca.lrrr. Fo.lxxv.
DE VERSUTIA DIABOLI ET QUOD JUDICIA DEI SUNT OCCULTA.
ERAT quidam Heremita qui cum in fpeluncâ quâdam
jacebat et diebus ac noctibus devotè Deo ferviebat. Juxta
cellam fuam erat quidam paftor ovium qui paſcebat oves.
Accidit uno die quod paftor erat fomno oppreffus, ipfo dor-
miente quidam latro venit et omnes oves fecum abftulit.
Superveniens Dominus ovium a paftore querit ubi erant
oves. Ille vero incepit jurare quod oves perdidit, fed quod
penitus ignorabat. Dominus hoc audiens furore repletus
ipfum occidit. Heremita hoc videns ait in corde fuo, O Deus!
ecce homo ifte culpam innocenti dedit et ipfum occidit. Ex
quo ergo permittis talia fieri propter hoc ad mundum
vadamus ficut cæteri vitam ducam. His cogitatis ille Here-
mitarium dimifit et ad mundum perrexit: fed Deus ipfum
perdere nolebat. Angelum, in formâ Hominis, ad eum mifit ut
fe ei affociaret. Quem cum Angelus in via euntem inveniffet;
ait ei. Chariffime! quo vadis? Ad ille; Ad iftam civitatem
ante me. Angelus dixit ei. Ego in via ero comes tuus quod
Angelus Dei fum et ad te veni ut fimus focii in hac via.
Ambo ambulabant adverfus civitatem. Cum autem intraffent
hofpitium a quodam milite propter Dei amorem petebant.
Miles vero fatis gratanter eos recepit et honorificè, ac
fplendidè cumque bonâ devotione in omnibus miniftravit.
Miles ifte tum unìcum filium habebat in cunabulis jacentem
que multum diligebat. Cœnâ factâ Camera eſt aperta et
lecti fatis honorificè ornati pro Angelo et Heremitâ. Mediâ
vero nocte furrexit Angelus et puerum in cunabulis ftrangu-
lavit. Hoc videns Heremita intra fe cogitavit. Nunquid ifte
crat Angelus Dei? Bonus miles omnia neceffaria propter Dei
amorum ei dedit et non habuit nifi unicum filium innocentem
et ifte eum occidit; fed tamen non audebat ei quicquam dicere.'
Manè ambo furrexerunt et ad civitatem aliam perrexerunt
in
THE PARABLE OF THE
EREMITE AND THE ANGEL,
ACCORDING TO DR. HENRY MORE.
DIALOGUE II. CHAP. XXIV.
A CERTAIN Eremite having conceived great jealoufies
touching the due adminiſtration of Divine Providence in ex-
ternal occurrences in the world, in this anxiety of mind was
refolved to leave his cell, and travel abroad, to fee with his
own eyes how things went abroad in the world. He had not
gone half a day's journey, but a young man overtook him and
joyn'd company with him, and infinuated himſelf fo far into
the Eremite's affection, that he thought himſelf very happy in
that he had got fo agreeable a companion. Wherefore re-
folving to take their fortunes together, they always lodged
in the fame houfe. Some few days travels had over paft be-
fore the Eremite took notice of any thing remarkable. But
at laſt he obſerved that his Fellow-traveller, with whom he
had contracted fo intimate a friendſhip, in an houſe where
they were extraordinary well treated, ftole away a gilt cup
from the gentleman of the houſe, and carried it away with
him. The Eremite was very much aſtoniſhed with what
he faw done by ſo fair and agreeable a perfon as he conceived
him to be, but thought not yet fit to fpeak to him or
feem to take notice of it. And therefore they travel
fairly on together as aforetimes, till night forced them
to feek lodging. But they light upon fuch an houſe as had a
very unhofpitable owner, who ſhut them out into the outward
court, and expofed them all night to the injury of the
open weather, which chanced then to be very rainy; but
the Eremite's fellow-traveller unexpectedly compenfated
his hoft's ill entertainment with no meaner a reward than
the gilt cup he had carried away from the former place,
thruſting
148
EXTRACTS, &c.
in qua in domo unius civis fatis honorificè fuerunt recepti et
fplendidè miniftrati. Civis ifte quendam aureum cyphum quem
miro modo dilexit, habuit in quo ultra modum gloriabatur.
Media noЯe furrexit Angelus et furatus eft cyphum illum.
Heremita hoc videns intra fe cogitabat; ifte malus Angelus eft
ut credo. Ifte civis nobis optime fecit et ifte furatus eft cyphum
fuum. tamen nihil ei loquebatur quia timuit eum. Mane
vero furrexerunt et per viam ambulabant, donec ad quandam
aquam pervenerunt ultra quam erat pons: pontem aſcenderunt
et quidam pauper iis obviabat. Ait Angelus, chariffime!
monftra nobis viam verfus talem civitatem. Pauper vertit fe
Cum vero ver-
accepit et ultra
et cum digito viam verſus civitatem oftendit.
tiffet fe Angelus fubito per fcapulas eum
pontem projecit, et fubmerfus eft pauper. Quod cum Here-
mita vidiffet, ait in corde fuo, fcio jam quod ifte diabolus eft
et non Angelus Dei bonus. Quid mali fecit pauper iſte? et
tamen eum occidit. Ab illo tempore cogitabat ab eo dif-
cedere; verum timens nihil loquebatur ei. Cum vero circa
horam vefpertinam ad civitatem perveniffent ad domum cu-
jufdam divitis accefferunt et hofpitium pro Dei amore pete-
bant; ille vero fimpliciter eis negavit, ait Angelus Dei. Amore
Dei faltem tectum domus nobis concedatis ne lupi aut malæ
beftiæ hic nos devorent. Ille ait; Ecce domus ubi porci
mei jacent; fi placet vobis cum eis jacere poteft is; fin autem
recedatis quod alium locum vobis non dabo. Ait ei Angelus ;
fi aliud non poteft fieri, cum porcis veftris jacebimus et fic
factum eft. Mane vero furrexerunt, Angelus hofpitem
vocavit et ait, Chariffime! do tibi cyphum iftum, et dedit ei
cyphum quem furatus fuerat ab illo cive. Heremita hoc vi-
dens, ait intra fe. Jam fum expertus quod ifte eft diabolus.
Bonus homo erat qui cum omni devotione nos recepit et
furatus eft ei cyphum et dedit ifti peffimo qui negavit nobis
hofpitium. Ait Angelo. Nolo vobifcum amplius exfpectare
ad Deum vos recommendo. Angelus dixit ei: Audite me
et tunc recedito.
EXPOSITIO.
EXTRACT S, &c.
149
thruſting it in at the window when they departed. This
the Eremite thought was very pretty, and that it was not
covetousness, but humour, that made him take it away from
its firſt owner. The next night, where they lodged, they
were treated again with a deal of kindnefs and civility: but
the Eremite obferved with horrour that his fellow-traveller
for an ill requital ftrangled privately a young child of their
fo courteous hoft in the cradle. This perplext the mind of
the poor Eremite very much; but in fadneſs and patience
forbearing to ſpeak, he travelled another day's journcy with
the young man, and at evening took up in a place where
they were more made of than any-where hitherto. And be-
cauſe the way they had to travel next morning was not fo
eafie to find, the mafter of the houſe commanded one of the
fervants to go part of the way to direct them; whom, while
they were paffing over a ſtone-bridge, the Eremite's fellow-
traveller caught fuddenly betwixt the legs and pitched him
head-long from off the bridge into the river, and drowned
him. Here the Eremite could have no longer patience, but
flew bitterly upon his fellow-traveller for thoſe barbarous
actions, and renounced all friendſhip with him, and would
travel with him no longer nor keep him company. Where-
upon the young man fmiling at the honeſt zeal of the Ere-
mite, and putting off his mortal diſguiſe, appeared as he was,
in the form and luftre of an angel of God, and told him he
was ſent to eaſe his mind of the great anxiety it was incum-
bered with touching the DIVINE PROVIDENCE. In which, faid
he, nothing can occur more perplexing and paradoxical than
what you have been offended at fince we two travelled toge-
ther. But yet I will demonftrate to you, faid he, that all
that I have done is very juft and right. For as for that firſt
man from whom I took the gilded cup, it was a real com-
penfation
150
EXTRA C T S, &c.
EXPOSITIO.
ฟ
Certiffime quando eras in Heremitario, dominus ovium pafto-
rem injufte occidit. Scias quod paftor ille pro tunc mortem
non meruit; fed alias commifit quare mori non deberet.
tunc temporis inventus eft fine peccato, Deus ergo permifit
cum occidi ut pœnam poft mortem evaderet, propter pec-
catum quod alias committeret pro quo nunquam penitentias
fecerat. Latro vero quod evafit, cum omnibus ovibus pœnam
eternam fuftinet, et dominus ovium quod paftorem occidit
vitam fuam emendabit per largas eleemofynas et opera mife-
recordiæ quam ignoranter fecit.
Demum filius iftius militis
de nocte ftrangulavi quod nobis bonum hofpitium dedit:
Scias quod antequam puer ille natus erat miles optimus
cleemofynarius erat, et multa opera miferecordiæ fecit. Sed
poftquam natus eft puer factus eft parcus cupidus et omnia
colligit ut puerum divitem faciat fic quod erit caufa perditi-
onis ejus et ideo puerum: occidi, et jam ficut prius factus eſt
bonus Chriftianus. Deinde Cyphum illius civis qui nos cum
devotione recepit furatus fui. Scias tu quod antequam
Cyphus ille erat fabrificatus non erat fobrior eo in tota terra;
fed tantum de Cypho gaudebat poft fabricationem quod omni
die tantum de co bibebat quod bis aut ter omni die fuit inebri-
atus, et ideo cyphum abftuli et factus eft fobrius ficut prius.
Deinde pauperem in aquam projeci. Scias quod pauper ifte
bonus Xtianus fuit; fed fi ad dimidium miliare ambulaffet
alium in peccato mortale occidiffet: fcias jam eſt ſalvatus et
regnat in cælefti gloria. Deinde cyphum illius civis dedi
illi quod nobis bonum hofpitium negavit. Scias quod nihil
in terra fit fine caufa. Ipfe nobis conceffit donum porcorum et
idco cyphum ei dedi et regnabit poft vitam in inferno. Pone
ergo omni modo cuftodiam ori tuo ut Deo non detrahas.
Ipfe enim omnia novit. Heremita hoc audiens cecidit ad
pedes Angeli, et veniam petiit ad Heremitarium perrexit et
factus eft bonus Chriftianus.
F
EXTRA C T S, &c.
151
penfation indeed of his hofpitality; that cup being fo forcible
an occafion of the good man's diftempering himſelf, and of
hazarding his health and life, which would be a great lofs to
his poor neighbours, he being of fo good and charitable a
nature. But I put it into the window of that harsh and un-
hofpitable man that uſed us fo ill, not as a booty to him, but
as a plague and fcourge to him, and for an eaſe to his oppref-
fed neighbours, that he may fall into intemperance, diſeaſes,
and death itſelf. For I knew very well that there was that
inchantment in this cup, that they that had it would be thus
bewitched with it. And as for that civil perſon whoſe child
I ſtrangled in the cradle, it was in great mercy to him, and
no real hurt to the child, who is now with God. But if that
child had lived, whereas this gentleman had been piouſly,
charitably and devoutly given, his mind, I faw, would have
unavoidably funk into the love of the world, out of love to
his child, he having had none before, and doting fo hugely
on it; and therefore I took away this momentary life from
the body of the child, that the foul of the father might live
for ever.
And for this laft fact, which you fo much abhor,
it was the moſt faithful piece of gratitude I could do to one
that had uſed us fo humanely and kindly as that gentleman
did. For this man, who by the appointment of his maſter
was fo officious to us as to fhew us the way, intended this
very night enſuing to let in a company of rogues into his
mafter's houfe, to rob him of all that he had, if not to mur-
ther him and his family. And having ſaid thus, he vaniſhed.
But the poor Eremite, tranſported with joy and amazement,
lift up his hands and eyes to heaven, and gave glory to God,
who had thus unexpectedly delivered him from any farther
anxiety touching the ways of his Providence; and thus re-
turned with chearfulneſs to his forfaken cell, and ſpent the
refidue of his days there in piety and peace.
Notwithstanding
152
EXTRA C T S, &c.
$
Notwithstanding the extreme fcarcity of the Gefta Roma-
norum, this fingular book has gone thro' various impreffions.
Two copies of it were found in the numerous and ſplendid
collection of the late Reverend and learned Thomas Crofts.
See Bibliotheca Croftfiana, London, 1783, pp. 67, 126.
1300 Ex Geftis Romanor. byftorie notabiles, folio, nitidifs. in cor.
turc. EDIT. PRIMA. . . . . Sine Loco aut Nom. Imprefforis.
4487 Ex Gefis Romanorum Hyflorie notabiles collecte; de Viciis
Virtutibufq. tractantes; cum Applicationibus moralifatis et
myfticis. Literis Gothicis, 8vo. perg. Venet. per Alex de
Bindonis MCCCCCXX.
We have alfo met with accounts of other Editions, viz.
Gefta Romanorum, &c. finis Anno noftre falutis Mcccclxxxxix. Fo.
Gefta Romanorum, &c. . Goud. per Gerardum Leeu Mccccxc. Fo.
Tyrwhitt in his account of "this ſtrange book" makes men-
tion of ſeveral editions; the first containing but 152 chapters,
which were afterwards increafed to 181, as in the Edition
he had; printed at Rouen, 1521. It was among the earlieſt
put to prefs; and, concluding from circumftances, he thinks
"one
one of cur countrymen was the Author." Chaucer owes
many obligations to the Gefta Romanorum, and no lefs Gower,
Lydgate, Occleve, and others, who manifeftly borrowed
many of their ftories from it. There can be no doubt that it
was of great ufe in compiling the Floure of the Commaundements;
another book no lefs ftrange and uncommon. Dr. Farmer
mentions alfo an old tranflation of the Geflu Romanorum, in
English, printed by Wynkyn de Worde, where he found the
ftory of the Caſkets, &c. in the Merchant of Venice; a great
variety of other incidents adopted by Shakspeare are likewife
derived from the fame fource.
Dr. Henry More's Diak gucs on the Attributes of God
and his Providence, five in Number, from the 2d of which,
the foregoing narrative of the Hermit in English is taken,
were publiſhed under the name of Francifcus Palæopo-
litanus, An. 1668; an imperfect fet of which is to be feen
in Bishop Marth's Library, St. Patrick's, Dublin.
It
EXTRACTS, &c.
153
}
ť
3
3
It requires no extraordinary fhare of black letter informa-
tion to diſcover, that our elder bards of the reformed type
are not altogether fo much beholden to the Greeks and
Romans as has been fondly imagined. However they may
have formed their plans or improved their diction on the
claffic models, their pages are highly illuminated with the
treaſures of Gothic lore; and the romances and legendary
narratives of the olden times, have proved to them plentiful
fources of interefting and fublime conceptions. Burton's
Anatomy of Melancholy fuggefted to Milton the outline, and
many of the moſt favourite images of his L'Allegro and
Il Penforofo; even the particular turn and meaſure of the
verſe he adopted from Burton; as Wharton has alſo remarked
in his valuable edition of that great poet's juvenile produc-
tions. The Anatomy of Melancholy, though fo little known
to the generality of readers, is ftill a copious ftore-houſe of
uſeful diſcoveries, information, and amuſement to modern
wits; for proof we need go no farther than Sterne. There
is another obfolete folio, to which we may trace many ftrik-
ing fublimities of Milton; to mention but one; the poetical
depth and immenfity of the Infernal Regions, which the critics
will have, a flight of competitorfhip with Homer and Virgil.
This book has for its title, The Polychronicon . . . It was the
work of Ranulph Higden, Monk of Bury, tranſlated at the
request of Lord Barclay. The first edition imprented by
Wynkyn de Worde, мccccxc: The fecond, by Peter
Treveris, Mcccccxxv, and the third, (a fair copy of which is
preferved in Marfh's Library, St. Patrick's, Dublin) by the
fame Peter Treveris, imprented at Southwerke, in the year of
X
our
* It may be proper to notice, though not ftriatly in its place, that,
in the Catalogue of the College Library, the Book from which the
HERMIT is taken, appears under the title of "Recollectorium ex Geſtis
Romanorum de Vitiis et Virtutibus, 8vo. Francof. 1508.".... Ad ille,
ad itam civitatem . . . . in domo unus civis . . . . quidam Pauper eis
obviabat, &c. are the original reading.
}
154
EXTRA C T S, &c.
our Lord God мCCCCC & XXVII, the xvi daye of Maye. Even
Machiavel has been laid under contributions, and Hiſtory
degraded into a vehicle of fiction; which, favourably fpeak-
ing, is but a pitiful application of talents, and a palpable en-
croachment on the province of poetry.
The learned and judicious Zimmerman, who was himſelf
a native of Swifferland, gives up the ſtory of WILLIAM TELL,
of which in his excellent Effay on Solitude, we find the
following relation:
"WILLIAM TELL was one of the principal authors of the
revolution in Swifferland in the year 1307. GRISLER, who
governed that country under the Emperor Albert, obliged
him, on pain of death, to ſhoot from a confiderable diſtance,
with an arrow at an apple which was placed on the head of
his infant fon, and, it is ſaid, that he had the good fortune to
carry away the apple without doing the ſmalleſt injury to the
child. The governor, on approaching to congratulate him
on his dexterous achievement, perceived another arrow con-
cealed under the garments of the fuccefsful archer; and on in-
quiring of him for what uſe he intended it, "I brought it,"
replied TELL," for the purpoſe of revenge; its eager point
"ſhould have drank the blood of thy heart, inhuman Tyrant,
"if I had the misfortune to kill my fon." The ftory of the
apple, however, which had before been told of a Goth foldier
named ToсHo, is juftly fufpected by the later hiſtorians. The
Swifs were willing to adorn the birthday of their liberty by
the fable of ſome ſurpriſing event. But it is certain that TELL,
after having ſuffered a long and rigorous confinement, killed
the governor with an arrow, and gave by that means a ſignal
to the confpirators.
In one of our old Engliſh ballads, as before hinted, the
fame or a fimilar
a fimilar achievement, abftracted from political
confequences, is attributed to WYLLYAM of CLOUDESLE', a
celebrated
EXTRACTS, &c.
155
*
celebrated archer of our own country; a country then and at
all times remarkable for fuperior ſkill and dexterity in the
ufe of the bow, which even at this day is a favourite exerciſe.
Our ancient minstrels abound with ſtories of fuch extraordi-
nary feats; and whoever is acquainted with legendary writ
will have no difficulty in believing, that the ſplitting of a
hazel rod at four hundred yards diftance, and ſtriking an
apple off a child's head at fix fcore, are perfectly in the ſtyle
and taſte of the times, and were but two arrows from the
fame quiver.
The fuperb Edition of the Works of HORATIO WALPOLE,
Earl of Orford, in Five Volumes Royal Quarte, by the
ROBINSONS, &c. London, this prefent year, (1798,) does
honour to the ſpirit and induſtry of the publiſhers. In the
Ift vol. appears the Tragedy of the Myfterious Mother, the
offspring of that nobleman's pen, though not before publicly
avowed, fucceeded by a Poftfcript of confiderable length,
from which the following ftory of the Tragedy is extracted
and given in the Author's own words, pp. 125, 6, which,
contrafted with the fubfequent accounts, taken from publica-
tions of more rare and difficult accefs, will doubtlefs afford a
gratification to curiofity, and proportionally contribute to
the pleaſure of the perufal:
"I had heard, when very young, that a gentlewoman,
under uncommon agonies of mind, had waited on Archbithop
TILLOTSON, and befought his counfel. A damfel that
had ſerved her, had, many years before, acquainted her that
fhe was importuned by the gentlewoman's fon to grant him a
private meeting. The Mother ordered the maiden to make
the affignation, when the faid fhe would difcover herſelf,
and reprimand him for his criminal paffion; but, being hur-
ried away by a much more criminal paffion herſelf, fhe kept
the affignation without difcovering herfelf. The fruit of this
156
EXTRACTS, &c.
horrid artifice was a daughter, whom the gentlewoman
cauſed to be educated very privately in the country; but
proving very lovely, and being accidentally met by her Fa-
ther-brother, who never had the flighteft fufpicion of the
truth, he had fallen in love with, and actually married her.
The wretched guilty Mother learning what had happened,
and diſtracted with the confequence of her crime, had now
reforted to the Archbishop to know in what manner ſhe
fhould act. The prelate charged her never to let her fon
and daughter know what had paffed, as they were innocent
of any criminal intention. For herſelf, he bade her almoſt
deſpair!
"Sometime after I had finiſhed the play on this ground-
work, a gentleman to whom I had communicated it, acci-
dentally difcovered the origin of the tradition in the novels
of the Queen of Navarre, Vol. II. Novel 30; and to my fur-
prife I found a ftrange concurrence of circumſtances between
the ſtory as there related, and as I had adapted it to my piece :
for, though I believed it to have happened in the reign of
King William, 1 had, for a purpoſe to be mentioned hereafter,
thrown it back to the eve of the Reformation; and the
Queen, it appears, dates the event in the reign of Louis XI.
I had chofen Narbonne for the ſcene,-the Queen places it in
Languedoc. The rencontres are of little importance, and,
perhaps, curious to nobody but the author.
"In order to make uſe of a canvas fo fhocking, it was
neceffary as much as poffible to palliate the crime, and raiſe
the character of the criminal. To attain the former end, I
imagined the moment in which fhe has loft a beloved huf-
band, when grief and diſappointment, and a conflict of paf-
fions might be fuppofed to have thrown her reafon off its
guard, and expofed her to the danger under which fhe
fell. Strange as the moment may feem for vice to have
feized
1
EXTRACT S, &c.
157
feized on her, ftill it makes her lefs hateful than if he had
coolly meditated fo foul a crime. I have alfo endeavoured to
make her very fondneſs for her huſband in fome meaſure the
cauſe of her guilt." . . . So far our Rt. Hon. Dramatist.
In the pamphlet publiſhed by GEORGE FAULKNER, which
was reprinted from a London Edition of the fame year, 1751,
an account of which is given in the 5th volume of the
Monthly Review, p. 317, it is faid that the narrative was
intended for publication in the year 1685, and thus the
writer introduces his extraordinary Tale:
་
"The following little hiftory of the tranfactions of a
private family, I fhould not have undertaken to offer to the
public, but from the furpriſingnefs of the facts, and my
intimacy in the family, by whom the moſt minute paffages
were, in confidence, entruſted to my fccrecy, from the very
beginning to the enfuing cataſtrophe; of which I was but
too late a ſpectator; as alfo from a particular inclination I
have, that mankind beholding the dreadful confequences of
vice in others, may form the ftronger guards against any fub-
miſſion to it in themſelves: For the enfuing narration will,
to demonſtration, prove, that no one can poffibly limit the
procefs of an ill act once commenced; and that the only way
to avoid bad confequences is, to afford no caufe for them;
for one enormity, though ever fo privately committed, fails
not, for the most part, to draw after it fuch a fucceffion of
evils as is very difficult to fet bounds to.".... The whole
narrative runs to the length of forty-eight octavo pages.
The author gives the ftory under fictitious names, becauſe,
he ſays, feveral of the defcendants of the parties are fettled
near the ſcene of action, innocent of the facts.
Eugenio, who is deſcribed in all refpects a finiſhed gentle-
man, endowed with every perfonal and mental accomplish-
ment, he ſays, was the younger fon of an illuſtrious family in
the
1
158
EXTRACT S, &c.
the northern parts of SCOTLAND. He was very early
initiated into the army, where, at the age of twenty-eight,
he ranked as a Captain, and falling in love with a young
heireſs of ſuperior beauty and fortune, he paid his addreſſes
to her, and a marriage was in a fhort time concluded. But
he had but just time to behold his own image in a fon fhe
brought him, when he was commanded off, and fell at the
fiege of the fort of St. Martin's, in the Ifle of Ree. The
beautiful and difconfolate widow, Eleanora, as fhe is called,
diſcharged every duty of an excellent mother to her fon,
named Oreſtes, and having liberally beſtowed on him every
advantage of previous inftitution, at a proper age he was
fent to the University of GLASGOW.
Towards the latter end of the firſt year, at a time of vaca-
tion, he returned home on a viſit to his Mother, who in his
abfence had taken into her family a gentleman's daughter,
called Arene, as her companion. The young collegian grew
enamoured with her beauty, and left no means untried to
feduce her, and one night found means of getting into her
bed-chamber, but without effecting his purpofe, as happily fhe
had time to conceal herſelf. The young lady diſcloſed the
affair to her patroncfs, who highly approved and commended
her conduct; but fuppofing, for very obvious reafons, under
fuch circumſtances, her fon would deny the charge, and if
wholly unnoticed would probably repeat his attempt, fhe
bethought herſelf of a ftratagem, wholly devoid of any evil
intention on her part, to detect the young ſpark, and cure
him of his pranks. I myſelf," fays fhe, " will this night take
up with your bed, while you lie fecure in mine: I'll ring
fuch a peal in the amorous fpark's ears, when I have him
there, as fhall deter him from any fimilar attempt in any
family, I'll warrant you."
The young gentleman taking filence for a fort of conſent,
was thus encouraged to purſue his defign, and far from the
fneaking
EXTRA C T S, &c.
159
?
1
fneaking attack which he had made the night before, ruſhed,
fans ceremonie, at once into her bed. It was a fatal moment.
The Mother, confounded with the untowardneſs of her fitua-
tion, had not power to remonftrate, and, overcome by the
youthful ardour that embraced her, fell a victim to his defires.
The dreadful confequences need not be repeated, though
detailed more circumftantially in the pamphlet before us,
they are fufficiently made known in the preceding relation;
but ſurely the noble author of the tragedy, had no occafion
to refort to fo "ftrange a moment,"
ftrange a moment," as he has choſen,
contrary to the narrative, for the perpetration of the horrid
act; when the other, equally as critical, would as well have
ſerved his purpoſe, and would have been, if we dare apply
the phraſe, more natural.
The beautiful daughter of this incestuous intercourfe, who
was afterwards married to her own Father, is in the hiftory
named Cornelia, by whom he had ſeveral children, and being
a Colonel in the infantry, at the Reſtoration, once more
encountered Arene, his Mother's former ward, at an election
ball in Pontefract, by which unfortunate meeting the de-
nouement was cafually brought about, which terminated as
might be expected, tragically enough.
For the reader's farther inftruction and amuſement we
will now turn to another ſcarce volume,
DUCTOR DUBITANTIUM, or the Rule of Confcience, &c.
The ſecond edition, by Jeremy Taylor, Chaplain in Ordi-
nary to King Charles the Firſt, and late Bishop of Down
and Connor, London, printed by Roger Norton, for Richard
Boyfton, &c. 1671, with a Dedication to the King, and a
Preface, dated "From my ftudy in Portmore, Kilultagh,
October 5th, 1659." In which an extraordinay cafe of hu-
man frailty we find ftated as follows. The ſcene of action,
as appears by the context, in VENICE.
*
दे
"3. If
160
EXTRACTS, &c.
<c
3. If the error be invincible, and the confequent of
the Perfwafion be confidered with the State of Grace, the
error muſt be opened or not opened according to prudent
confiderations relating to the perfon and his ſtate of affairs.
So that the error muſt rather be fuffered then a grievous
fcandal, or an intolerable, or a very great inconvenience. To
this purpoſe COMITOLUS fays it was determined by a congre-
gation of learned and prudent perfons, in anſwering to a
ftrange and a rare cafe happening in VENICE; a gentle-
man did ignorantly lie with his Mother; fhe knew it but
intended it not, 'till for her curiofity and in her fearch
whether her fon intended it to her maid, fhe was ſurpriſed
and gotten with child: She perceiving her ſhame and forrow
haften, fent her fon to travel for many years; and he re-
turned not till his Mother's female birth was grown to be
a handſome pretty maiden. At his return he efpies a fweet
fac'd girl in the houſe, likes her, loves her, and intends to
marry her. His Mother conjured him by all that was facred
and prophane that he fhould not, faying, fhe was a beggar's
child, whom for pitie's fake fhe refcued from the ftreet, and
beggary, and that he ſhould not by difhonouring his family,
make her die with forrow. The gentleman's affections were
Itrong, and not to be maſtered, and he married his own ſiſter
and daughter. But now the bitings of his Mother's confcience
were intolerable, and to her confeffor fhe difcovered the whole
bufinefs within a year or two after this prodigious marriage,
and aſked whether ſhe was bound to reveal the caſe to her
fon and daughter, who now lived in love and ſweetneſs of
fociety innocently, though with fecret misfortune which they
felt not.
It was concluded negatively; ſhe was not to reveal
it, left he bring an intolerable mifery in the place of that
which to them was no fin, or at leaft upon notice of the
error they might be tempted by their mutual endearment
and
EXTRACT S, &c.
161
and common children, to cohabit in deſpight of the cafe,
and ſo change that into a known fin, which before was un-
known calamity; and by this ftate of the anſwer they were
permitted to their innocence, and the children to their inhe-
ritance, and all under the protection of a harmleſs, though
erring and miſtaken conſcience.
• •
Book I. chap. iii. fect. iii. p. 89.
Comitolus and the Queen of Navarre are not forth coming,
fo for the preſent the particulars of their teftimony muſt be
diſpenſed with, and the German author, who as well as the
Engliſhman, wot ye, ſpeaks from his own knowlege, though
formerly of our company, has abfconded. The only material
difference between his and the preceding account is, that the
German vouches for the authenticity of his relation as of a
matter of public notoriety at PRAGUE, in a family of his own
particular acquaintance there. Powers of Veracity! how
long, by ignorance, knavery and fheer conceit, is the fond
fuffering world to be trifled with and impofed upon?... But
to the eternal difgrace of the Illuminati, Philofophers, Politi
cians, and Reformers of the Eighteenth Century, this mon-
ftrous fabrication has been made the ground work of an
atrocious caluminy, meanly and induftriouſly circulated in the
common news papers, to blacken the character of the un-
fortunate Maria Antonietta of France!.... And to the
fcandal of common honefty and common fenfe, all party
buſineſs out of the queſtion, there are fome flaming.
Virtuous Souls no doubt!... who affect to credit the horrid
afperfion.
On our peep into Germany, cafting an eye towards Prague,
the name of their Poet BURGHER, and the tale of LEONORA
occurred. It has been tranflated into Engliſh by four ſeveral
hands. One of thoſe writers, in the preface to his own
verfion of that Popular Poem, expatiating on the peculiar
character
Y
*
?
162
EXTRA C T $, &c.
character and taſte of the Germans, fays, " their minds vigo
rouſly conceive, and their language nobly expreffes, the terri
ble and majeſtic; and it muſt be allowed that in this fpecies
of writing they would force from us the palm of excellence,
were it not fecured by the impregnable towers of OTRANTO.
Of all their productions of this kind, LEONORA is perhaps
the moſt perfect. The story in a narrow compaſs unites
tragic event, poetical furprife, and epic regularity. The
admonitions of the Mother are juft, although ill-timed; the
deſpair of the Daughter at once natural and criminal; her
puniſhment dreadful and equitable. Few objections can be
made to a ſubject new, fimple and ftriking; and none to a
moral, which cannot be too frequently and awfully enforced."
}
This is the common language of tranflators, in humble
imitation of their great predeceffor Dryden, obliquely recom-
mending their own performances; and yet, admitting the
tranſlator ſpoke his real ſentiments, concerning that popular
and celebrated Production, his decifion appears liable to many
cogent exceptions. Without reference to Religious princi-
ples, confidered in a moral light it will appear defective; to a
philofophic eye abfurd. The fcope and tendency of it are of a
miſchievous nature. It may make the hair of the weak and cre-
dulous ſtand on end; the Infidel, who with rapture contemplates
the wanton extravagancies of Jupiter, attends ancient cut-
throats to the regions of Tartarus, and liftens with avidity to
the Legend of Proferpine, of which LEONORA's is a toler-
able Fac Simile,* feels fhocked at the gloomy reveries of the
Cloisters, and in his fancied triumphs over ignorance and ſuper-
1
* So Pluto feized of Proferpine, convey'd
To Hell's tremendous gloom the affrighted maid;
There grimly fmil'd, pleas'd with his beauteous prize,
Nor envy'd Jove his funſhine and his ſkies.
ftition,
Addiſon's Cato, A& III. Scene 7th,
Vide Ovid. Metamorph. lib. 5. v. 391. De Proferp.
EXTRACTS, &c.
163
tition, with his uſual airs of ſelf-ſufficiency, will be tempted
to treat the machinery of our modern with a fneer. In truth,
the fiction is too violent; it out-herods Herod, and ſeems
merely calculated to keep alive and propagate the exploded
notions of ghoſts and hobgoblins to the great annoyance of
poor children, whoſe ductile minds are liable to fearful impref-
fions, which by the ftrongest exertions of reaſon and good
ſenſe are ſcarcely ever afterwards to be wholly obliterated.
The argument
in favour of the poem from the lefſon of
patience it is faid to contain is by no means concluſive; for
being wholly founded in impoſture it neceffarily loſes of its
effect. There are alfo objections to it as a compofition
arifing from the conduct of the machinery itſelf. The ter
rible graces, to which the poem of LEONORA Owes ſo much
of its popularity, though bodied forth by the exquifite de-
figns of the lady DIANA BEAUCLERC, in our humble appre-
henfion, are not ſupported with a due degree of conſiſtency.
It is not eaſy to determine the precife characteriſtics, and pre-
ſcribe limits for the conduct of Beings, with which no mortal
has ever yet been perfonally in habits of familiarity; but ac-
cording to the received ritual of Apparitions, the Ghoſt in
queſtion, is not only forced ungraciouſly into the ſervice, but
is made to affume powers to which, as a Ghoſt, he was utterly
incompetent. If this pofition be tenable, we muſt beg leave
to diſſent from the authority. . . . The poem is not perfect.
t
1
The initiated in the myſteries of " that undiſcovered country,
from whoſe bourne no traveller returns," of which Homer,
Virgil and Shakspeare are the acknowleged Poetical High
Prieſts, by no means admit fuch "fatal viſions, ſenſible to feel-
ing as to fight;" neither has the notion as yet prevailed among
the fuperftitious and the vulgar. The author of LEONORA,
by an inexcufable error, we may fay, in the coſtume, has pro-
ceeded directly againſt the canon laws of their foundation,
for
164
EXTRACT S, &c.
t
for the fake, it ſhould feem, of a moral not clearly deducible,
and probably but a fecondary confideration. Cauſe and effect
fhould reciprocally correfpond. Ghoſts are ſerious ſubjects,
and ſhould not be rouſed from their everlaſting manſions on
trivial errands; to point out where a pot of money lies in-
terred, or check the frenzy of a love-fick girl; but their
imputed attributes are ſpecifically effential and not to be difpen-
fed with. Here the Ghoſt of a dead Warriour, armed cap-a-pee,
in mail of the ſame temper, mounted on the Ghoſt of a dead
Charger, makes a progreſs of five hundred German miles, and
under the ſhape of an affianced lover, cajoles a fond credulous
female, good and lawful fleſh and blood, to quit her aged
weeping mother and get up behind him: off he carries her,
hurry-fcurry, over hill, over dale, wood, waſte, bog and
briar, the fame journey back again, all in the ſpace of one
fhort night, every now and then foothing and encouraging
her to fit ftill, with an equivocal affurance, beneath the
dignity of a Ghoſt, of accommodating her in his camp bed, fix
boards and a fheet, which in the upſhot proves to be his
grave. And that is the poor creature's puniſhment for utter-
ing a rash, a wicked expreffion if you will (exaggerated we
may ſuppoſe) in the paroxyfms of infanity, the effect of her
fidelity and conftancy; virtues which the men, though little
they have to brag of, will feldom allow the fex, and furely
this is a fad way of inculcating. Thus the order of nature
is fubverted; the fecrets of the grave prophaned, and a tre-
mendous apparatus, as if the fate of nations depended on it,
exhibited, for what? To frighten an innocent young maniac,
and fend her a little before her time to "Heaven:" But the
pious and difconfolate Mother, without crime bereft of her
child, the ſtaff of her age, is the ſufferer: and the Ghoſt not,
as we are taught to believe, a mere vifionary effence; but, con-
trary to all known principles of orthodoxy, a firm, corporeal,
•
tangeable
">
EXTRACT S, &c.
165
angeable ſubſtance, vefted with human powers, and retaining
as in life the old fpirit of gallantry with the uſual accompa-
niments, prevarication and deceit.
The frigid criticifm this may be deemed of a cold and
phlegmatic heart. Not fo; with deference to fuperiour un-
derſtandings, it is the unbiaſſed opinion of an enemy to every
Species of affectation, and empty fentimentaliſm.
It is
the mature reſult of feeling and reflection, from an atten-
tive conſideration of the fubject, and a thorough conviction
of the bad effects fuch compofitions are likely to produce.
As a fubject of poetical invention, it may be fimple and ftrik-
ing; fimplicity and force employed to a good purpoſe are
capital recommendations, and the charm of novelty palliates
many defects; but on looking attentively nearer home,
ftrong proofs appear that, in this cafe at leaft, powerfully
impugn the claims of the author of LEONORA, if not to the
palm of excellence, indifputably to the honour of originality:
and therefore more open to animadverfion.
"Godfrey Auguftus Burgher, [Bürger] was born An. 1748,
at Afcherſleben. In 1779, was made the first collection of his
poems. They confift partly of fongs, fonnets, elegies, fables,
and other ſhort pieces, comic and ferious; and partly of ballads,
many of which are tranflated with improvements from
English Originals. Simplicity is the characteriſtic of his com-
pofitions; and of all literary beauties fimplicity muft be the
moſt generally attractive. It is no common merit to excel
in a ſtyle which all underſtand, many admire, and but few
can attain. No writer perhaps has ever attained a more de-
cided popularity." The Poem of LEONORA is not given as
a tranſlation or an imitation; it is given peremptorily and
without referve as an undoubted original, the moſt perfect
in its kind." The writer therefore hazards his own title to
taſte and diſcernment, who ventures to difpute it; and to
contradic
·166
EXTRACTS, &,
I
contradict the affertion unauthorized and at random, would
be
an act of unpardonable prefumption.
A Collection of Old Ballads, corrected from the beſt and
moft ancient copies extant, (the Third Edition) London,
MDCCXXVII, was publiſhed by J. Roberts, Warwick-lane, &c.
which is quoted more than once by Dr. Percy, Bishop of
Dromore, in his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. The
volume confifts of 287 pages, containing forty-four favourite
pieces; and if the reader's curiofity ſhould prompt him to get
the book, he will find our authority for the following Legend,
[page 266] between which and LEONORA, there ſeems in
many particulars fo ftriking a reſemblance, that confidering
the author's knowlege of English compofitions, though in
fome circumſtances the German may be perhaps an improve-
ment, we can hardly ſuppoſe it to be an original.
XXXVIII. THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE or, a Relation of a
!
Young Man, who a month after his death appeared to his
Sweetheart, and carry'd her on horfeback behind him for
forty miles in two hours, and was never feen after but in
his grave.
A WONDER ftranger ne'er was known
Than what I now fhall treat upon.
In SUFFOLK there did lately dwell,
A farmer rich, and known full well:
He had a daughter fair and bright,
On whom he placed his whole delight;
Her beauty was beyond compare,
She was both virtuous and fair.
There was a young man living by,
Who was ſo charmed with her eye,
That he could never be at reft,
He was by love fo much poffeft.
He
EXTRACT S, &c.
767
He made addrefs to her, and fhe,
Did grant him love immediately;
But when her father came to hear,
He parted her, and her poor dear.
Forty miles diftant was fhe fent,
Unto his brother's, with intent
That ſhe ſhould there fo long remain,
'Till fhe had changed her mind again.
Hereat this young man fadly griev'd,
But knew not how to be reliev'd;
He figh'd and fob'd continually,
That his true love he could not fee.
She by no means could to him fend,
Who was her heart's efpoufed friend;
He figh'd, he griev'd, but all in vain,
For fhe confin'd muft ftill remain.
He mourn'd fo much, that doctor's art,
Could give no eaſe unto his heart,
Who was fo ftrangely terrify'd,
That in fhort time for love he dy❜d.
She that from him was fent away,
Knew nothing of his dying-day,
But conftant ftill fhe did remain,
And lov'd the dead, altho' in vain.
After he had in grave been laid
A month or more, unto this maid
He came in middle of the night,
Who joy'd to fee her heart's delight.
Her
168
&c.
EXTRACTS,
Her father's horfe, which well the knew,
Her mother's hood and ſafe-guard too,
He brought with him to teſtify,
Her parent's order he come by.
Which when her uncle underſtood,
He hop'd it would be for her good,
And gave confent to her ftraightway,
That with him the fhould come away.
When he was got her love behind,
They paſs'd as fwift as any wind,
That within two hours, or little more,
He brought her to her father's door.
But as they did this great hafte make,
He did complain his head did ake;
Her handkerchief fhe then took out,
And ty'd the fame his head about:
And unto him fhe thus did ſay,
Thou art as cold as any clay;
When we come home a fire we'll have;
But little dream'd he went to grave.
Soon were they at her father's door
And after fhe ne'er faw him more:
I'll fet the horſe up, then he ſaid,
And there he left this harmleſs maid.
She knock'd, and ſtrait a man he cry'd
Who's there? 'Tis I, fhe then reply'd;
Who wonder'd much her voice to hear,
And was poffefs'd with dread and fear.
Her
EXTRACT S, &c.
169
Her father he did tell, and then
He ſtar'd like an affrighted man;
Down ſtairs he ran, and when he fee her,
Cry'd out, my child, how cam'ſt thou here?
Pray, fir, did you not ſend for me,
By fuch a meffenger, faid fhe;
Which made his hair ftare on his head,
As knowing well that he was dead:
Where is he? then to her he ſaid,
He's in the ſtable, quoth the maid;
Go in, faid he, and go to bed,
I'll fee the horfe well littered.
He ftar'd about, and there could he
No ſhape of any mankind fee;
But found his horſe all on a ſweat,
Which made him in a deadly fret.
His daughter he ſaid nothing to,
Nor none elſe, tho' full well they knew,
That he was dead a month before,
For fear of grieving her full fore.
Her father to the father went
Of the deceas'd, with full intent
To tell him what his daughter faid;
So both came back unto the maid.
They afk'd her, and fhe ftill did fay,
'Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard, they were amaz'd
And on each other ftrangely gaz’d.
Z
A handkerchief
1
170
EXTRACTS, &c.
A handkerchief fhe faid fhe ty'd
About his head; and that they try'd,
The fexton they did fpeak unto,
That he the grave would then undo:
Affrighted, then they did behold
His body turning into mould,
And though he had a month been dead,
The handkerchief was about his head.
This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole truth they did unfold;
She was thereat fo terrifyed
And grieved, that he quickly dyed.
Part not true love, you rich men then,
But if they be right honeft men
Your daughters love, give them their way,
For force oft breeds their lives' decay.
Notwithſtanding all the high encomiums lavished on
LEONORA, and the gorgeous attire in which ſhe was pre-
fented to public notice, our SUFFOLK DAMSEL is not with-
out her fhare of attractions. CC
Thoughtlefs of beauty, the
is beauty's felf." LEONORA, a beauty at fecond hand, and
for the very graces in which fhe most excels, fhe is mani-
feftly indebted to her rival; heightened with an additional
tinge of rouge; in the opinion of thoſe who have a true taſte
for the fimplex munditiis, perhaps not to her advantage. In
the article of diction there probably is no great diſparity;
the feeming negligence fometimes of the one, may ariſe from
difference of time, and our familiarity with the language in
which it is written; for the oppofite reaſon, ſimilar blemiſhes
in the other cannot be equally apparent. The correfpondence
of found and ſenſe, for which the German has been diftin-
guifhed,
"
EXTRA C T S, &c.
171
guiſhed, is, no doubt, a prime ornament of metre, and gives
life and ſpirit to poetic expreffion; but carried to an extreme,
however ftriking the refemblance, it is the refemblance in
caricature, and ceafes to be beautiful. The genuine unaf-
fected ſimplicity of our old Engliſh Ballad, depending not on the
play of words, but on the conception, would bear tranflation,
and appear with advantage in any language," where free
to follow nature is the mode;" this is not the cafe with the
German. The reiteration of trap, trap, trap for the found
of a horſe's, or rather the ghoſt of a horſe's feet, and of
cling, cling, cling for that of a door-bell, in Burgher's Poem,
is mere mimickry, adapted to the vulgar ear, which in an
English verfion, the tranflator himself confeffes, would ap-
pear ridiculous. Such mimic artifice, however the Engliſh
Bard, introducing a real horfe, more naturally might have
indulged, and yet judiciouſly has avoided.
In the moral too,
if the interpoſition of preternatural agency can be at all ad-
mitted, he has a manifeft fuperiority. The Suffolk Maiden,
it is true, falls a facrifice; but it is an unblemished, heroic
facrifice to virtuous conftancy: and in her loſs the parents re-
ceive the due puniſhment of their avarice and hard-hearted-
nefs, as a warning to parents in general, not to facrifice
their children's real happineſs, as is but too often the caſe, to
venal and ſelfiſh ends. . . . . Burgher, indeed, has had ample
juſtice done him by his own countrymen, and, finging to the
tune of "Over the hills and far away," has among us the
recommendation of a foreigner; that was enough to gain him
the palm of excellence, now embalmed for the admiration of
future ages in the broad foliage of a royal quarto, and it is
but juſtice to add, the charming pencil of a fair and noble
lady, the happieſt efforts of the engraver's fkill, combined
with the exertions of the typographer, render it a curiofity
of art, and enhance its merit in the eye of the connoiffeur.
Our old Suffolk Minstrel "warbling his native wood notes.
wild,"
172
&c.
EXTRA EXTRACTS,
C T S, wild," remains nameless and unnoticed. What an encourag-
ing contraſt! 'tis a true epitome of the Hiſtory and Spirit of
thefe wonderful times: and tho' his Ghoſt, after a requiem of
near one hundred years, again revifits the glimpses of the
moon, to affert his raviſhed honours, no man knows, or poffibly
cares, on whoſe temples to bind the palm of originality . . .
"Reſt, reſt, perturbed ſpirit!" The fame ſubject, diverſified
with occafional touches from Shakspeare, has contributed to
enrich the canvas of fome of our latter noveliſts.
This preternatural expedition alfo feems anticipated in
Scarron's comical Romance [pt. I, ch. 24,] from which the
German, as well as our Engliſh Legendift, might have taken
the hint and collected materials. Deſtiny is the name of the
French writer's hero, the lady of the piece is diftinguiſhed by
the appellation of Angelica :
'Twas midnight when Deſtiny in purfuit of Angelica,
thinking to make a fhort cut, ftruck into a little miry narrow
lane. He had not advanced many paces, when the Moon,
which fhone forth in full ſplendour, ſhrunk fuddenly under
a cloud, and the thick overshadowing boughs, ruſtling
on each ſide of the way, added not a little to its gloom
and perplexity; his fteed, having all thefe impediments to
encounter, could by no means be prevailed on to fecond the
ardour of his wishes. In the midst of his embarrassment,
inwardly execrating his fituation, fuddenly, to his infinite
amazement, he perceived fomething, like a man or a devil,
leap up behind him, and claſp him about the neck. Deſtiny
was immeaſurably alarmed, and his horſe ſo much ſtartled,
that he would certainly have thrown his rider, had not the
phantom, which invefted him, kept him firm in the faddle.
The horſe, taking fright, ran away with him; and Deſtiny, not
knowing what he was about, continued goring him with his
fpurs, terrified with two naked arms about his neck, and
clofe
EXTRACTS, &c.
£73
cloſe at his cheek a cold face, breathing time to the cadence
of his courfer's gallop. The race continued long without in-
termiffion; for the lane proved not a fhort one: at length, at
the entrance of a wild heath, the horſe began to abate of
his impetuofity, and Deſtiny, recovering breath, gained a
little refpite to his agony; for cuſtom familiarizes every
thing. The Moon broke from under the cloud, and darting
her mild luftre directly upon him, diſcovered, to the aſtoniſhed
cavalier, an enormous figure of a man ftark naked at his
ſhoulder, with a horrid countenance, grinning in his face.
This was no time for curiofity, he had no defire to ask quef-
tions, but clapping ſpurs to his horfe, urged him on at full
ſpeed, till the animal, quite jaded, began to breathe ſhort and
thick. In an inftant, wholly unexpected, the ftrange com-
panion flipt from behind him to the ground, and fell a laugh-.
ing. Deſtiny nevertheleſs preffed forward, and turning his
head about, ſaw the phantom making off with great rapidity
towards the place whence he came. This Deſtiny afterwards
diſcovered to be. a poor wandering Madman in one of
his nocturnal excurfions from the adjacent village.
•
•
Whoever has read thofe amufing tales, called the Arabian
Nights' Entertainments, and recollects the fifth voyage of
Sinbad the Sailor, may poffibly recognize in Scarron's Madman
ftrong features of that wonderful adventurer's OLD MAN OF
THE SEA, which, from the cuſtom of oriental moralifts and
other local confiderations, fuppofing the fiction not deſtitute
of foundation in reality, anſwers very nearly to the defcrip-
tion modern voyagers and naturalifts give of the OURAN-
OUTANG, the oftenfible link between the human and mere
animal fpecies. This alfo induces a warrantable and fair
conclufion, that, as the Europeans were never fcrupulous in
feizing, and converting to their own purpoſes, the gems
and trophies of the East, the Suffolk Damfel, the Madman of
Scarron,
*
174
EXTRACT S, &c.
Scarron, and the Leonora of Burgher, are all but branches
of the fame family of Indian extraction.
The Arabian and French writer, as to the Fable, have both
evidently the advantage of the German; for they have nature
and probability on their fide. Sinbad's and Deſtiny's adven-
tures combine the terrible graces which arreft the attention
of the Reader in the tale of Leonora, and keep the mind in
no lefs a degree of agitation and ſuſpenſe to the end. And
the novelty of the furpriſe, which could neither be foreſeen
nor expected, in the denouement, gives it a feaſonable relief,
abſtracted from the danger of falfe impreffions justly to be
apprehended from the other; for which no moral founded in
impofture can make amends. On a comparative view, a
reader of no very flippant conception, by a rifible affociation
of ideas, might eaſily convert the preternatural machinery of
the German ſtory into burleſque; for the relief of many an
ingenuous and timid mind on all fuch extravagant fuppofitions,
however popular, "a confummation devoutly to be wifhed."
!
THE END.
DUBLIN,
Sept. 17, 1798.
OMISSIONS.
THE Theory of ANIMAL MAGNETISM, a recent Impof-
ture, which has given occafion to a variety of Philofophic
Inveſtigation, and furniſhed matter for a very laughable Farce,
has its origin in the natural hiſtory of the Torpedo and Elec-
trical Eel.*
It was a matter of fpeculation fet afloat by a
cunning French Philofopher of the medical tribe, in purſuit
of notoriety, which he contrived to render fubfervient to the
purpoſes of his vanity and his purfe, giving it ſomething
of oracular eclat, by a dexterous combination of the defcrip-
tions left by Virgil, Ovid, Lucan, and others, of certain
Prieſteffes, whofe prophetic throes and hyfteric affections in
cafes of conſultation are admirably exemplified and illuſtrated
by the magnetized damfels and matrons of the preſent
æra, For the fex, among the ancients as well as moderns,
have, by the artful and defigning, been generally found
convenient inſtruments as well as dupes of impofition; even
within the narrow ſphere of our own obfervation, there are
not wanting females of curiofity and enterprize, who, in the
rage for Animal Magnetiſm, ſtarted forth candidates, and hav-
ing gone through the previous gradations, awakened from
their delirium, to ſpeak in the language of the adepts, fur-
priſed with the luminous Crifis. Giraldus commonly called
Cambrenfis, a native of Wales and Biſhop of St. David's, in
his Itinerary publiſhed towards the clofe of the 12th century,
gives a picture of the extacies of certain Welsh enthuſiaſts, ſo
nearly reſembling the phenomena attending Animal Magne-
tifm, that the one, with fome trifling verbal modifications,
feems merely a copy of the other under a different defigna-
tion. Thoſe who are yet ftrangers to this fpecies of illufion
will find an abſtract of the paffage from Giraldus Cambrenfis,
in
*For a very full and clear account of the Torpedo and Electrical Eel,
fee Cavallo on Electricity.
176
OMISSIONS.
1
in Warrington's Hiftory of Wales, 4to, London, 1782,
zd Edition, pp. 102, 3.
tures.
"There were amongst the Welsh certain perfons whom
they called Arvenydhion, a word expreffive of poetical rap-
Theſe perfons, when conſulted about any thing doubt-
ful, inflamed with a high degree of enthuſiaſm, were to all
appearance carried out of themſelves, and feemed as if they
were poffeffed by an inviſible ſpirit; yet they did not declare
a folution of the difficulty required, but by the power of
wild and inconfiftent circumlocution, in which they abounded,
any perſon who obferved the anfwer would at length, by
fome turn or digreffion in the ſpeech, receive, or fancy they
did, an explanation of what was fought. From this ſtate
of extacy they were at laſt rouſed as from a deep fleep, and
were compelled, as it were, by the violence of others, to
return to their natural ſtate. Another thing, it is faid, was
peculiar to thefe perfons; that when they recovered their
reafon they did not recollect any of thoſe things which in
their extacy they had uttered. And if it happened that they
were again confulted about the fame or any other thing, they
would be certain to expreſs themſelves in other and far dif-
ferent words. This property was beftowed upon them, as
they fancied, in their fleep; at which time, according to
Giraldus, it appeared to fome of them as if new milk or honey
was poured into their mouths; to others, as if a written
fcroll had been put into their mouths; and on their awak-
ing, they publicly profeffed that they had been endowed with
thefe extraordinary gifts. This imaginary ſpirit of divina-
tion, has been alfo in much ufage in the Highlands of
Scotland, and is there known under the expreffive term of
SECOND SICHT."
MASQUERADES, which are by moſt people imagined pecu-
liar to the moderns, and exclufively confined to Europe,
were
OMISSIONS.
177
were in requeſt among the Ifraelites; and, let not the minds
of the pious and well-difpofed revolt at the affertion, men-
tion is made of them in the Scriptures; not, you may be
ſatisfied, in the way of encouraging them, but wholly in repro-
bation of the folly and indifcretion of indulging a propenſity
to amuſements of their feductive and immoral influence.
Dramatic Writers do not plume themfelves on a ſtrict ad-
herence to genuine hiſtory; what is called poetic probability is
all they look to, and in a general way, little more is required:
Their buſineſs is to delineate character, and diverfify their
fcenes, fo as to intereft and affect their auditors; not to
eſtabliſh facts. On this principle, the liberties Dryden has
taken in his tragedy of Don Sebaſtian, are agreeable to uſage,'
and ftand fo far excufed. The profe writer who relates a
ftory, is bound by a feverer law, and as an hiſtorian, ſhould
confine himſelf to the truth. The accurate and judicious pen
of Mr. Addiſon, has been mifguided, by a fprightly French
writer, it ſeems, in relation to Muley Moluc, a principal
character of that play. [Spectator, vol. v. No. 349.] As the
ſtory is happily calculated to amufe, as well as inftruct,
the chief object we have had in view throughout theſe
pages, our Readers will perhaps be pleaſed to fee the account
of the African Monarch, as Mr. Addiſon gives it, contrafted
with what we have reafon to believe the true hiftory of the
fame event.
"I fhall conclude this paper with the inftance of a perfon
who feems to me to have fhewn more intrepidity and great-
nefs of foul in his dying moments, than what we meet with
among any of the most celebrated Greeks and Romans.
met with this inftance in the Hiftory of the Revolutions in
Portugal, written by the Abbot de Vertot.
I
When Don Sebaftian, King of Portugal, had invaded the
territories of Muli Moluc, Emperor of Morocco, in order to
A a
dethrone
178
OMISSIONS.
1
dethrone him, and fet the crown upon the head of his
nephew, Moluc was wearing away with a distemper which
he himſelf knew was incurable. However, he prepared for
the reception of fo formidable an enemy. He was indeed fo
far ſpent with his ſickneſs, that he did not expect to live out
the whole day, when the laſt decifive battle was given; but
knowing the fatal confequences that would happen to his
children and people, in cafe he fhould die before he put an
end to that war, he commanded his principal officers that, if
he died during the engagement, they ſhould conceal his death
from the army, and that they fhould ride up to the litter in
which his corpfe was carried, under pretence of receiving
orders from him as ufual. Before the battle began, he was
carried through all the ranks of his army in an open litter, as
they ſtood drawn up in array, encouraging them to fight
valiantly, in defence of their religion and country. Finding
afterwards the battle to go against him, though he was very
near his laſt agonies, he threw himſelf out of his litter, rallied
his army, and led them on to the charge; which afterwards
ended in a complete victory on the fide of the Moors. He
had no fooner brought his men to the engagement, but,
finding himſelf utterly fpent, he was again replaced in his
litter, where laying his finger on his mouth, to enjoin fecrecy
to his officers, who ſtood about him, he died a few moments
after in that poſture."
The following relation is extracted from an account of a
Journey to Mequinez, the refidence of the prefent Emperor
of Morocco, on the occafion of Commodore Stewart's em-
baffy thither, for the redemption of the Britiſh captives in
the year 1721, by John Windus; London, printed by Jacob
Tonfon, 1728. The Author in his preface, fpeaking of his
work, fays: "As I had the honour to attend Mr. Stewart
into the Emperor of Morocco's dominions, I continued in
thofe
OMISSIONS.
179
*
thofe parts, between three and four months, which time I
employed in gathering fuch materials as encouraged me to
proceed in the following work: and in this I have been par-
ticularly careful, not to deliver any thing, but what either
came under my own obfervation, or was fupported by autho-
rities not to be doubted of," &c. &c. This writer's account
of the battle of Don Sebaſtian, (pp. 73, 4, 5, 6.] runs thus:
"The 18th [June] we decamped between five and ſix in the
morning, and paffed the river Elmahafsen, famous for the
battle fought between Don Sebaſtian King of Portugal, and
the Moors; as this ſtory had given matter to Sir Richard
Steele, to furnish the world with a paper of the heroical
virtue of Muley Moluc, then king of Morocco, it gave me
the curioſity to enquire, whether they had any hiſtorical ac-
count thereof; but found only a traditional ſtory, which moſt
of them agreed in, differing much from Sir Richard Steele,
who gives the praiſe of heroick virtue to the Moorish king,
whereas the ſtory of the country attributes it to a flave; for
Muley Moluc was a prince very much beloved by his people,
but infirm, and at the time he left Morocco, to defend his
country againſt Don Sebaftian, was fo ill, that he was forced
to be carried in a litter, and when he came to Alcaffar, (about
fix miles from the place where the battle was fought) he there
died; upon which a flave of his called Mirwan, (whoſe name
the
*Sir Richard Stecle, the conductor and oftenfible Author of the
Spectator. It is now univerfally known Sir Richard was not the fole
writer of that elegant and ufeful periodical piper. It was the joint pro-
duction of ſeveral hands, the most eminent wits of the time, whofe
papers are reſpectively diftinguiſhed by certain private fignatures agreed
on for the purpofe. Mr. Addifon was a liberal contributor to that work,
as well as the Tatler and Guardian. His fignature was one of the letters
in the word CLIO, and by the particular letter of that word occafionally
affixed, not only the writer, but his particular place of refide. ce at the
time, is pointed out. Thus the paper alluded to, muſt be afſcribed not to
Sir R. Steele, but to his friend and coadjutor Mr. Addiſon, then refiding
at his houſe in London, as we are taught to underſtand by the fignature L.
!
180
OMISSIONS.
the Moors, to this day, mention with great regard, becauſe
of the gallantry and ſervice of the action) wifely confidering
the confequence of keeping fecret the death of a prince fo well
beloved by his people, at a time when the two armies every
day expected to join battle, contrived it fo, as to give out
orders for the king, as if he had been alive, making believe
he was better than he uſed to be, till the battle was over;
when the faid flave (thinking he merited a better reward
than what he met with) wifhed the Succeffor joy, both of the
victory and empire; but the ungrateful Prince cauſed him to
be immediately put to death, ſaying, he had robbed him of
the glory of the action. The Portugueſe who were diſperſed
in the battle, would not believe that their king was flain, but
ran up and down the country, crying out, Onde efta el Rey
(i. e.) Where is the King? the Moors often hearing the word
Rey, which in Arabick fignifies Good fenfe; told them, that if
they had any Rey, they had never come thither.
Many of the ordinary people in Portugal will not perfuade
themſelves, that Don Sebaſtian is yet dead: And there is now
to be read on a monument in the great church of Bellem,
near Liſbon, the following infcription :
Hoc jacet in tumulo, fi fuma eft vera, Sebaſtes."
Mr. Boſwell obferves, and his obfervation is juft, that it
is the indifpenfable duty of every writer to be exact in his
quotations. The diſtorted, mutilated, and ſpurious authori-
ties difingenuously palmed upon their readers by Voltaire,
Hume, Gibbon, and their diſciples, to ferve their infidious
purpoſes, would fill volumes, and have been abundantly
expofed. Writers of a very different caft, without any pre-
meditated intention to deceive, have fallen into great inac-
curacies in this refpect, which ſhould be an admonition to
readers of all deſcriptions, not to pin their faith on autho-
rities at fecond hand, when they can refort to the originals.
The
1
OMISSIONS.
181
+
1
*
The Spectator, [vol. vi. No. 438.] in his animadverfions on
a paffionate difpofition has the following paffage :*
"If you would fee paffion in its purity, without mixture
of reaſon, behold it reprefented in a mad Hero, drawn by a
mad Poet. Nat Lee, makes his Alexander fay thus:
"Away, begone, and give a whirlwind room,
"Or I will blow you up like duſt! avaunt;
"Madneſs but meanly reprefents my toil.
"Eternal difcord!
"Fury! revenge! difdain and indignation!
"Tear my fwoln breaſt, make way for fire and tempeſt.
"My brain is burft, debate and reafon quench'd;
"The ſtorm is up, and my hot bleeding heart.
"Splits with the rack, while paffions like the wind,
"Rife up to heaven, and put out all the ſtars."
Every paffionate fellow in town talks half the day with
as little confiſtency, and threatens things as much out of his
power." The whole paper well deferves to be read; but there
is not one word of the rant there cited, in the part of Alex-
ander It belongs to quite another perfonage, and is beſides
incorrectly given. In the third act of the Rival Queens,
where Roxana, Caffander, and Polipercon are the interlocutors,
it is Roxana, chafed by thoſe odious archtraitors, who thus
exhibits the picture of female fury:
Away, begone, and give a whirlwind room,
Or I will blow you up like duft; avaunt;
Madneſs but meanly reprefents my toil.
Roxana and Statira, they are names
That muſt for ever jar; eternal difcord,
Fury, revenge, difdain and indignation
Tear my fwoll'n breaſt, make way for fire and tempeft.
My brain is burſt, debate and reafon quench'd,
This paper has the fignature T. afcribed to Sir Richard Steele.
The
182
OMISSIONS.
The ſtorm is up, and my hot-bleeding heart
Splits with the rack, while paffions like the winds
Rife up to heaven, and put out all the ſtars.
What faving hand, O what almighty arm
Can raiſe me finking?
Rival Queens, 4to. 5th Edit. London 1704.
Bell in his edition [Edinburgh printed by the Martins 1782.]
has given the angry Queen three lines modeled upon theſe,
in a leſs extravagant ftrain; the reſt are wholly omitted.
We have an inftance of a fimilar miſtake in the third
volume of the Spectator, No. 241, the fubject is the Abfence
of lovers. *
The paffage in view runs thus:
"ABSENCE is what the poets call death in love, and has
given occafion to abundance of beautiful complaints in thoſe
authors who have treated of this paffion in verfe. Ovin's
Epiftles are full of them. Otway's Monimia talks very
tenderly upon this fubject.
"It was not kind
"To leave me like a turtle, here alone,
"To droop and mourn the abſence of my mate.
"When thou art from me every place feems defert,
"And I, methinks, am ſavage and forlorn.
"Thy prefence only 'tis can make me bleſt,
"Heal my unquiet mind and tune my foul."
Orphan, Act II. Scene the laſt.
It is not Monimia, but Caſtalio that talks thus tenderly :
Caft. Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind
To leave me like a turtle here alone,
To droop and mourn the abſence of my mate.
When thou art from me every place is defert, &c.
Mon. Oh! the bewitching tongues of faithleſs men!
'Tis thus the falfe hyena, &c.
Mr.
The paper is diftinguiſhed with a C. which is one of the letters ufed
by Mr. Addiſon, implying that it was written at Chelia.
.
OMISSIONS..
183
Mr. Sheridan, who, one fhould think, could not be mif-
taken in a quotation from a play, in which he had performed
times without number, and on whofe authority one might be
tempted to lay a wager, gives us the following paffage in his
Lectures on Elocution. [Lect. IV. on Emphaſis.]*
"By means of Emphaſis what paffes in the mind is often
ſhewn in a few words, which otherwife would require great
circumlocution. Of which take the following inftance from
the Play of All for Love:
"The fault was mine
"To place thee there, where only, thou, couldft fail."
"In this ſcene Anthony, having found out that his friend
Dolabella, whom he had employed on a commiffion to
Cleopatra, inſtead of diſcharging the truft repoſed in him,
had fuffered his own paffion for that dangerous beauty fo far
to prevail, as to give up his friend's 'caufe, and urge his own
love-fuit to her; at firft upbraids Dolabella in the bittereſt terms
for his treachery. But afterwards when he cools," &c.
Again in the fucceeding Lecture [Lect. V. on Pauſes and
Stops.]* He quotes the ſame line with a fecond comment
upon it, thus ...." And had they placed three commas in
the line quoted from All for Love, as thus:
To place thee there, where only, thou, couldſt fail.
The full import would have been at once perceived."
Theſe Lectures were feveral times delivered by himſelf to
audiences confifting of four or five hundred at a time, and
went through different editions: The firft in quarto, and
afterwards in octavo, corrected by himſelf, and no error was
ever in the leaſt fufpected. On my undertaking the firſt
Dublin edition, I turned to the play of All for Love; no
fuch paffage was to be found in it; I confulted Shakspeare's
Anthony
*Quarto edit. London, 1762, pp. 67, 8, and p. 81. Octavo edit. Lon-
don, 1787, pp. 84, 5, and p. 102. It were to be wifhed theſe were the
only errors that difgrace a fpurious edition of Mr. Sheridan's Lectures
printed in Dublin.
*
184
OMISSIONS.
Anthony and Cleopatra, which was the original, Dryden's
being but an alteration from Shakspeare, and was equally
unſucceſsful: I mentioned the circumftance to Mr. Sheridan;
he laughed at my affertion, and infifted I had overlooked it;
for it was impoffible he could have committed fuch a blunder.
There it reſted; but one evening fitting at Young's tragedy
of the Revenge, it was the laſt time poor unfortunate Moffop
performed Zanga, I was ſurpriſed to hear the paffage in
difpute addreffed by Carlos to his friend Alonzo, not in a
fcene of reproach, but emulous generofity, reſpecting Leonora,
thus:
The crime was mine,
Who plac'd thee there, where only thou could'ſt fail, &c.
Revenge, A& II.
If fuch confummate mafters, whom no man can fufpect of
an intention to miſlead, are not exempt from errors, which in
themſelves, it muſt be admitted, are of no great confequence,
fhould we not be upon our guard in more important matters,
and never truft implicitly to quotations, even though Tom
Paine himſelf ſhould ftake his reputation on their fidelity?
It may alſo afford a hint to our tefty difputants, male and fe-
male, not rafhly to form conclufions, or trip up their modeſter
opponents with borrowed authorities. Pope, who, maugre
all the ſtrictures of faftidious critics, is one of the beft and
moſt inſtructive poetic writers in any language, reprobates,
with juſt feverity, the felf-fufficiency of tenacious wranglers,
and at the fame time prefcribes a golden rule of conduct
which all may reduce to practice with advantage :
Be filent always, when you doubt your ſenſe;
And ſpeak, though fure, with feeming diffidence:
Some pofitive, perfifting Fops we know,
Who if once wrong, will needs he always fo;
But you, with pleaſure own your errors paſt,
And make each day a Critique on the laſt.
Though
OMISSIONS.
185
+
I
Though no reader of feeling and tafte can deny the Author
of the Seaſons the due praiſe of being, on ſuitable occaſions,
eminently pathetic, yet the affecting Epiſode of Celadon and
Amelia has a recommendation which renders it peculiarly in-
tereſting. It is founded in truth. The circumſtances which
a few years before unhappily occurred, though fomewhat dif-
guiſed perhaps to conceal the obligation, are taken from Gay.
Both were poets; but Gay has given the melancholy account
of John Hewit and Sarah Drew, which is manifeftly the
original, in profe; and, as a matter of taſte, it would be hard
to determine which has the advantage. It is eafy to perceive
that Gay wrote from immediate impreffions, and in his rela
tion of that awful event he has left one of the fineſt examples
of the epiſtolary ftyle of writing in its kind that is to be met
with in our language. Neither of thofe writers can lofe
much; the reader muſt be a gainer, by comparing them.
FROM MR. GAY TO MR. F--—.
STANTON-HARCOURT, AUG. 9, 1718.
THE only news you can expect to have from me here,
is news from Heaven, for I am quite out of the world,
and there is ſcarce any thing can reach me except the noiſe
of thunder, which undoubtedly you have heard too. We
have read in old authors, of high towers levelled by it to
the ground, while the humble vallies have eſcaped: The
only thing that is proof againſt it is the laurel, which how-
ever I take to be no great fecurity to the brains of modern
authors. But to let you fee that the contrary to this often.
happens, I muſt acquaint you that the higheſt and moſt ex-
travagant heap of towers in the univerfe, which is in this
neighbourhood, ftands ftill undefaced, while a cock of bar-
ley in our next field has been confumed to afbes. Would
B b
to
* Thomſon's Summer, 1. 1171; publiſhed in 1727, nine years after
the Narrative of Gay.
186
OMISSIONS.
to God that this heap of barley had been all that had pe-
rifhed! For unhappily beneath this little fhelter fat two
much more conftant lovers than ever were found in ro-
mance under the fhade of a beech-tree. John Hewit was a
well-fet man of about five-and-twenty; Sarah Drew might
be rather called comely than beautiful, and was about the
fame age: They had paffed thro' the various labours of
the year together with the greateſt fatisfaction; if the milked,
'twas his morning and evening care to bring the cows to
her hand. It was but laft fair that he bought her a pre-
fent of green filk for her ftraw hat; and the poefy on her
filver ring was of his chufing. Their love was the talk
of the whole neighbourhood; for ſcandal never affirmed that
they had any other views than the lawful poffeffion of each
other in marriage. It was that very morning that he had
obtained the confent of her parents, and it was but 'till the
next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps
in the intervals of their work they were now talking of their
wedding-cloaths, and John was fuiting ſeveral forts of poppies
and field-flowers to her complexion, to chufe her a knot
for the wedding-day. While they were thus bufied (it was
on the laſt of July between two and three in the afternoon)
the clouds grew black, and fuch a ftorm of lightning and
thunder enfued, that all the labourers made the beſt of
their way to what fhelter the trees and hedges afforded.
Sarah was frightened, and fell down in a fwoon on a
heap of barley. John, who never ſeparated from her, fat
down by her fide, having raked together two or three
heaps, the better to fecure her from the ftorm. Immedi-
ately there was heard fo loud a crack, as if Heaven had ſplit
aſunder; every one was folicitous for the fafety of his neigh-
bour, and called to one another throughout the field. No
answer being returned to thofe who called to our lovers,
they ſtepped to the place where they lay; they perceived the
barley
OMISSIONS,
187
barley all in a ſmoke, and then 'fpyed this faithful pair,
John with one arm about Sarah's neck, and the other held
over her, as to fcreen her from the lightning. They were
both ftruck in this tender poſture. Sarah's left eyebrow was
finged, and there appeared a black ſpot on her breaſt; her
lover was all over black, but not the leaft figns of life were
found in either. Attended by their melancholy companions,
they were conveyed to the town, and the next day interred
in Stanton-Harcourt church-yard. My lord Harcourt, at
Mr. Pope's and my requeſt, has cauſed a ſtone to be placed
over them, upon condition that we ſhould furnish the epitaph,
which is as follows:
ง
When Eaſtern lovers feed the funeral fire,
On the fame pile the faithful pair expire;
Here pitying heaven that virtue mutual found,
And blasted both that it might neither wound.
Hearts fo fincere th' Almighty faw well pleas'd,
Sent his own lightning, and the victims feiz'd.
But my lord is apprehenfive the country people will not
underſtand this; and Mr. Pope fays he'll make one with
fomething of Scripture in it, and with as little poetry as
Hopkins and Sternhold.
Yours, &c.
JOHN GAY.
Thoſe who are defirous of feeing on what narrow founda-
tions a genius for the Drama can build a Tragedy, will do
well to confult the Guardian. The first volume of that
work, No. 37, contains the relation of a fcene of misfor-
tunes which really happened fome years ago in Spain. Short
as the account is, it fupplied Dr. Young with materials for
his Tragedy of the Revenge; in which we may fairly pre-
fume he had Othello in view, and aſpired to break a lance
with Shakspeare.
"Don
}
اور
188
OMISSIONS.
"Don Alonzo, a Spaniſh nobleman, had a beautiful and
virtuous wife, with whom he had lived for fome years in great
tranquillity. The gentleman, however, was not free from
the faults uſually imputed to his nation; he was proud, fuf
picious, and impetuous. He kept a Moor in his houfe, whom,
on a complaint from his Lady, he had puniſhed for a ſmall of-
fence with the utmoſt ſeverity. The Slave vowed revenge,
and communicated his refolution to one of the Lady's women,
with whom he lived in a criminal way. This creature alſo
hated her miſtreſs, for fhe feared fhe was obſerved by her;
ſhe therefore undertook to make Don Alonzo jealous, by in-
finuating that the gardener was often admitted to his Lady in
private, and promiſing to make him an eye-witneſs of it. At
a proper time agreed on between her and the Moriſco, fhe
fent a meffage to the gardener, that his Lady, having fome
hafty orders to give him, would have him come that moment
to her in her chamber. In the mean time ſhe had placed
Alonzo privately in an outer room, that he might obferve
who paffed that way. It was not long before he ſaw the
gardener appear. Alonzo had not patience; but, following
him into the apartment, ftruck him at one blow with a
dagger to the heart; then dragging his Lady by the hair,
without enquiring farther, he inſtantly killed her.
Here he paufed, looking on the dead bodies with all the
agitations of a dæmon of revenge; when the wench who
had occafioned theſe terrors, diſtracted with remorse, threw
herſelf at his feet, and in a voice of lamentation, without
ſenſe of the conſequence, repeated all her guilt. Alonzo was
overwhelmed with ali the violent paffions at one inftant, and
uttered the broken voices and motions of each of them for a
moment, until at laſt he recollected himſelf enough to end
his agony of love, anger, diſdain, revenge, and remorse, by
murdering the Maid, the Moor, and himſelf.”
ON THE ORIGIN OF
BÜRGER'S LEONORA,
FROM THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE,
I799.
The (two) following Letters were addreſſed to the Editor of a literary
journal in London, with whofe plan it is inconfiftent to inſert ar-
ticles of correspondence: from him they were handed to us for pub-
lication. Our defire to oblige the foreign author has prompted us
to admit them: yet we confider it as a mere question of curiosity,
whether Bürger's Ballad is in any degree a refaccimento: his
merit is not diminiſhed by the pre-existence of the story. In the
fecond volume of Poems by Robert Southey, p. 145, may be found
an extract from Matthew of Weſtminſter, relating a tale alſo oc-
surring in Olaus Magnus and in the Nuremberg Chronicle, the
catastrophe of which bears an obvious resemblance to the ftory of
Lenore. This incident perhaps has been uſed by ſome Minnefinger,
and has contributed its ſparkles to kindle the imagination of Bürger.
MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
犧
​DEAR SIR,
ON a fhort excurfion to the Lower Rhine, I happened to
ſtop for dinner at the poſt-houſe of Glandorf, a ſmall place
in the bishoprick of Ofnabruck.-Befides my fellow-traveller,
a gentleman of Valenciennes, there was no other company
but a young chanoineffe of the abbey of Eſſen, who was going
on a viſit to her noble parents in the neighbourhood of Oſna-
bruck.-Dinner was ferved, and the poſt-mafter, a Mr. Cordes,
cc
joined
ļ
190
ON THE ORIGIN OF
joined us, to do the honours of the table rather than to par-
take of the fare. My Frenchman had foon engaged in a
converſation with the lady; and, tandis qu'il poufſoit fa fortune,
I boarded the poſt-maſter, in whom I was agreeably ſurpriſed
to meet with a man of learning, aftoniſhingly well verfed
both in Engliſh and German literature. He feemed pleaſed
to hear that the latter had become more than ever familiar
to the Engliſh reader. I mentioned fundry good tranflations
to him, and when I happened to ſpeak of the late elegant
edition of Bürger's Leonora, he could not refrain from faying,
"I wish they had honoured the work with a lefs fine edition,
and not accuſed the author of plagiarifm." Theſe words
occafioned a more minute enquiry. He infifted upon the
fable being of Saxon origin, and offered to produce an old
man, an inhabitant of the place, who would repeat nearly
the whole poem in Low Dutch; adding that this man fre-
quently heard it recited in his youth, by people ſtill older
than himſelf, from whom he had learned it. My time
would not permit me to ftop for the man; but having told
Mr. Cordes that I meant to come back by the fame road, he
had the goodneſs to promiſe me his opinion in writing con-
cerning the origin of the fable; which, in fact, I found in
readineſs when I arrived a fecond time at Glandorf, and here-
with I fend you a tranflation of it. You will as a patron of
German literature find means of giving it publicity, and
thereby remove the error into which the admirers of that
truly beautiful Ballad have been led concerning its origin.
Your's, &c.
Hamburg, April 9, 1799.
C. L.
AGREEABLY
f
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
191
2
>
A
AGREEABLY to your kind requeft I communicate to
you with pleaſure, in writing all I know, and what I already
have told you by word of mouth, concerning Bürger's
Leonora, confidered as a popular tale in lower Saxony. I do
fo with the greateſt fatisfaction, as it confirms Bürger's own
affertion that an old Low-Dutch ballad furniſhed him with
the idea of that piece, which affertion you will fee ſtated in
the German Mercury-(der Deutſche Mercur, ſec. 2. and in
fect. 4. of Mr. Schlegel) in contradiction to fome Engliſh an-
tiquarians, who fay, that Bürger took his Leonora from a
collection of old Ballads, publifhed in London, in three
volumes, in 1723, and in which the matter of that Poem is
contained in a story, entitled: The Suffolk Miracle, or
Relation of a young Man, who a Month after his death appeared
to his Sweetheart.
a
I have often heard the tale repeated by fundry perfons of
this place; and among others by a man of the age of 75 ´years.
A ftill greater proof of its being a popular tale of Low Saxon
origin, is its being fo univerfally known in thoſe parts; and
I heard it ſeveral times recited almoft in the fame manner by
my ſtep-mother, who is 71 years old, lives in a place called
Rheine, at five German miles diftance from hence, in the
bishopric of Munſter, and affured me, that in her youth ſhe
heard it often related by feveral people. The ſtory runs as
follows:
The lover enliſts in the army, is killed, appears by night,
gently rapping at the door of his fweetheart. She aſks,
Who's there?" Dien leef is dar," is his anfwer. She opens
the door, gets behind him on his horfe; they gallop away in
the ſwifteft courfe. Then the fwain fays theſe identical
words:
"De mond, de fchint fo belle,
De doden riet ſo ſchnelle.
Fiens Leevken gruvlt di ok?"
“Wat Scholl mi gruveln, du biſt ja by mi.”
She
1
192
ON THE ORIGIN OF
She replies. After they have been galloping for a good while,
he makes up to a church-yard—The graves open; horſe and
rider are fwallowed up, and the woman is left behind in
darkneſs and gloom.. Sapperment! en fiboll ehn wual
gruvcln!" will the old man add in his peculiar humour.
tr
You fee that the progrefs of the fable is the fame as in
Bürger's Leonora ; and this very fimilarity, nay this wordly
fimilarity, has with fome raiſed a doubt about Bürger's af-
fertion to Schlegel, viz. that he had taken merely a few hints
from an old Saxon ballad.
Yet that I may not injure our poet's known veracity
and candour; I muft fay, that it appears pretty natural to
me, that, on hearing the old ftory related, Bürger immedi-
ately conceived the idea of his Leonora; and that afterwards,
perhaps, after the lapfe of many years, he could not himſelf,
diftinaly recollect, and, in his ſtatement to his friend, fepa-
rate from his own fictions what originally belonged to the
old tale. Whoever has made it his ſtudy to examine fimilar
productions, either taken from or built upon popular fay-
ings, will moſt certainly be of my opinion in this particular.
If even the whole ground-work of the poem were not of
Bürger's own invention, it can however not be denied, that
it has confiderably gained under his hands: Leonora's fran-
tic anguiſh when ſhe does not meet her lover among the re-
turning warriors- the language of comfort of her mother-
her contempt of the facrament, and her incredulity in its
virtues, which motives the apparition-are not to be met.
in the oral tradition.
It appears, that the tale originally paffed from mouth to
mouth in rhyme and verſe, till in progrefs of time it entirely
loft that form.
The explanation of the reſemblance of our Tale with the
Suffolk Miracle I muſt leave to you. Perhaps it is ſo old that
the Saxons carried it over to England.
For my part, I am
fully
1
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
193
fully ſatisfied that Bürger did not take his Poem from any
English ballad, but from an old Low-Dutch tale; the more
fo, as Mr. Schlegel affures us, that Bürger in the ſtudy of the
old Engliſh ballads confined himſelf almoſt excluſively to
to Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry.
Glandorf.
Your's, &c.
то
J. FRANCIS CORDES.
THE EDITOR OF
THE MONTHLY
MAGAZINE.
AUDI ALTERAM PARTEM.
}
}
SIR,
IN your Magazine or Regiſter for September laſt, I obſerve
a Letter, dated Hamburg, April 9th, 1799, and, connected
with it, another as from Glandorf, of pofterior note, on the
Origin of Bürger's Leonora ; a ſubject which had engaged
my Father's attention foon after the fplendid edition of that
Poem made its appearance; and early in the year 1798, his Re-
marks were committed to prefs.* The pages containing thoſe
Remarks, together with other articles of information, which I
find you have elſewhere adopted and converted to uſe, were
upon a general principle, or I miſconceived you, with no un-
candid or inimical intention, tranfmitted to your addreſs, fome
months previous to the publication in queftion; but, as might
eafily be perceived on the face of them, they were by no
means the whole of the work. As far as they go, they are
in themſelves for fo much complete; but though in the hands
of
*See page 161, paffim.
194
ON THE ORIGIN OF
of feveral felect friends in London, Edinburgh, Bath and
Liverpool, as well as in Dublin, they have never been offered
to the public eye; nor has the work, though in ſuch a ſtate
of forwardneſs, even yet been advertized, owing to an acci-
dent, by which a confiderable portion of the impreffion was
rendered uſeleſs, and certain delays on the part of the Printer,
which could not conveniently be obviated. The writer of
thofe Letters, upon which I am about to hazard a few re-
marks, has, however, with peculiar addreſs, faſtened upon
my Father's idea, and dexterously contrived a kind of indi-
rect answer to his animadverfions, as it were by anticipation;
for his critique, in various places, manifeftly alluded to, is
carefully kept out of fight. This to me, I muſt confefs, car-
ries with it fomething of unfairneſs; being by obvious impli-
cation an encroachment upon private property, at the fame
time ſubjecting you to the imputation of a breach of confi-
dence; public curiofity is in a great degree by that means.
foreſtalled, and if profit were the object, that object, ſo far
as the influence of your inftructive publication extends,
muſt be ultimately defeated.
Two widely different opinions are ſtarted, refpecting the
matter in conteft. To one of them only you have conde-
fcended to give publicity, while, contrary to the declared pur-
pofe of the Britiſh Regiſter, all notice of the other feems
ftudiouſly fuppreffed; yet furely if the fubject itſelf was of
fufficient importance to merit fuch diftinction, the parties
ſhould have at leaft equal opportunity of ſpeaking for them-
felves; or if partiality attached to either, in point of nation-
ality as well as priority, the argument in favour of domeſtic
pretenfions might have claimed the preference. The oppofi-
fition, it fhould fecm, is a partnerſhip affair; but on an at-
tentive review of the context, the natural conftruction is, that
the writer of the introductory Epiftle, and the accompliſhed
Maitre D'Hotel, the pretended author of the fecond, are in-
dividually
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
195
dividually but one and the ſame perſon; and notwithſtanding
his continental exterior, bona fide, an Englishman, more con-
cerned for the advancement of German literature, and the re-
putation of Bürger, than the honour of his own country.
This, however unnatural, is a cafe by no means uncommon
with the new-fangled refiners of the prefent age. I am, thank
my ſtars, one of thoſe who are not ashamed of their country,
and would on all honeft occafions give my fuffrage in her
favour. I am, I truſt, a friend to humanity, an admirer of
genius, and a well-wisher to the propagation of letters; but
I am alſo a lover of truth, and would not even for my country,
far leſs to ſerve the purpoſes of a party, peevishly controvert
facts, or arrogate diſtinctions, to which ſhe had not a legiti-
mate claim. Theſe are my principles; I fpeak as I think,
and what I conceive right, I have no heſitation, on proper oc-
cafions, to maintain. I think our continental accúfer wrong,
and therefore oppofe him: I think in too fervilely adopting
the whims and prodigalities of other countries, we are wrong,
and therefore condemn it; but I am far from encouraging
national reflections, and have affuredly no intention of giving
perfonal offence. One capital difqualification, I am ſenſible,
and with too much reafon I fear it is not the only one, I
labour under: I was born among you. It is unfortunately
a fact, verified by daily experience, that from fome unac-
countable predilection, peculiar to theſe iſlands, when a native
and a foreigner enter the lifts, the current of prejudice runs,
right or wrong, in favour of the latter. Through that chan-
nel I have no expectations: It is to the fairneſs of my deduc-
tions, and the equity of my cauſe, I look for an impartial de-
cifion. Such enquiries are not without their importance :
conducted with temper and decorum they may contribute to
inftruction, diveſted of its formalities, and, at leaſt as well as
a Novel or a Fairy Tale, ferve to ameliorate the preffure of
feverer
}
196
ON THE ORIGIN OF
feverer occupations. The Writer can ſpeak from experience,
and believes he is not fingular; but of this in its place.
Your advocate in the cafe of Leonora, aware of fome diffi-
culties in his way, takes his ground with circumfpection;
but proceeds not incontinently to the point. Like a skilful
partizan, he makes his approaches at a diſtance, and ſkirmiſhes
under cover of a maſked battery. The round-about method
of marshalling his forces; the irrelevant matter of the pre-
amble; his apocryphal journey; the fineffe of the adventure
of the inn; his guarded predilection for a particular hypo-
thefis; and his impofing fimplicity of ſtyle, all ſpeciouſly
calculated to miſlead, betray a fufpicion of his materials; and
intimate a latent fomething which he ſeems unwilling to avow.
His vifible anxiety for the reputation and uncommon qualifi-
cations of "mine Hoſt of the Garter," aftoniſhing to his
readers, as partly he acknowleges they appeared to himſelf,
is befides an unfavourable fymptom, which adds little to the
credit of his relation, and operates untowardly for the intereft
of his caufe.
His poſitions lead to a twofold object; to prove that the
ftory of Leonora or the Suffolk Miracle, is not of English
growth; and to confine the merit of it to Bürger. 'Tis
labour thrown away. Weigh the matter attentively; give
to both fides their acceffories, and let impartiality hold the
balance. To dwell upon his weakeft arguments is unnecef-
fary, nor need we follow him ftep by step in the detail. It
will be fufficient to fhew the futility of the ſtrong, if any
can deſerve that epithet, where all are nearly of the fame
ftamp, founded wholly upon hearfay, and report at fecond-
hand, without any authentic credentials, or written memorial
of ancient date, to fupport them. I appeal, my moſt learned
adverfary to facts, and without troubling myſelf unne-
ceffarily with adventitious pleas,. out of thy own mouth
will I condemn thee.
We
3
<<
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
(C
197
We are given to underſtand, that upon a more minute
enquiry, He," the intelligent poſtmaſter, as he is defcribed,*
"infifted upon the fable being of Saxon origin, and offered
"to produce an old man," who by the way is not produced,
an inhabitant of the place, who would repeat nearly the
"whole poem in Low Dutch; adding, that this man fre-
quently heard it recited in his youth, by people ſtill older
"than himſelf, from whom he had learned it." On the
fame authority we are likewife previouſly given to underſtand,
and it is ſubſequently infifted upon, that the whole poem is
Bürger's; and Bürger is comparatively a young man. Here
then, in the firſt inſtance, the gentleman entangles himſelf
in a dilemma. Either he must give up the claim of Bürger's
originality, or his informer's character for veracity and preci-
fion of two evils to chooſe the leaft, let us ſuppoſe it the
latter; then what becomes of his argument? His premiffes
are unfounded, and, the confequence is inevitable, his whole
ſyſtem muſt fall to the ground. Admitting the antiquity
of the fable, and its antiquity I ſhould be loth to impeach,
Bürger indifputably has contributed to its reftoration; he
may have reviſed, corrected and improved; or as Dryden,
Pope and others have Chaucer's Poems, he may have mo-
dernized it; that praife is decidedly his due; in that light, he
is its Father, and Leonora his Child by adoption; but how-
ever dreffed, it does not vitiate its defcent; Leonora by what-
ever name or appellation defignated, is ftill the felf-fame.
perfon, one and individual, undeniably the offspring of her
original parent.
Dd
• • •
In
Thofe who furnish pofthorfes, &c. for the accommodation of tra-
vellers, here with us, poor landers! are in familiar and vulgar accepta-
tion, Innkeepers; on the grand tour, where every thing forfooth muſt
be in ſtyle, however in fact inferior, they are in the more dignified
phrafe dubbed Poſtmaſters.
198
ON THE ORIGIN OF
In this aukward predicament your travelling inquifitor fuf-
pends the proceedings, and after a convenient interval, of
which, as we may well prefume, he took care to avail himſelf,
with renovated powers, in character of advocate for Saxony,
he returns to the charge, and armed cap-a-pee, fmites our
poor antiquarians from Dan to Beersheba, for attempting to
ſet the ſaddle on the right horfe. Flying rumour and hearſay
is his forte. Neither am I deftitute of proofs in that way, at
leaſt equally cogent and authentic; and if dates be compared,.
of a ſtill more remote reach. My Father, who is near
ſeventy, learned the ſtory from his Nurfe's Huſband, whoſe
memory even now is reſpected in his village, a village or
rather hamlet,* in Lancaſhire, near the flouriſhing town of
Preſcot, where he was honourably interred at an advanced
time
Gillor's Green [Thill-Horfe Green?] where he enjoyed a ſmall
patrimony, whence fometime before his deceaſe he removed to a new
houſe he had purchaſed, directly oppofite the great window at the Eaft end
of St. Peter's Church, Liverpool. He was of the claſs of labouring men:
Let not ambition mock their uſeful toil,
Their homely joys, and deſtiny obſcure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful fmile,
The short and fimple annals of the poor.
So fings the penfive Gray, and his idea will not be hurt by a little funeral
anecdote. . . . On the demife of the venerable old man a quantity of bread
and good malt liquor was provided by his widow and fole executrix, of
which timely notice was given; and before the coffin was placed upon
the hearfe, which conveyed his remains to Prefcot, his native pariſh,
purſuant to a claufe in his laſt will fo ordering, every poor perſon that came
forward, man, woman and child, without exception, received a twopenny
loaf and a pint of ale. A like portion of bread and ale was diſtributed to
the poor at Prefcot alfo; when, previous to his interment, the full fer-
vice for the dead was performed by the Rector, the Reverend Mr. Quin;
and an excellent fermon preached from Heb. ii. v. 22: By faith Joseph
when he died, made mention of the departing of the Children of Ifrael;
and gave commandment concerning his bones. . . . . Such were the worthy
beings among whom my Father received his early impreffions!
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
199
}
time of life, when my Father was a young boy. The good
old man had it from a relative of his own, a clock-maker of
the name of Ecclcfton, who alfo was well ftricken in years,
and always gave it as a tale of former times. It was printed
on a fingle half sheet, procured at a ftall in Liverpool, and
ftitched up with the Seaman's Garland, the lamentable
Hiftory of Jane Shore, Tom Hickathrift, Jack the Giant-
killer and others, for his winter's evenings' amuſement and
improvement in reading. Such was the fimplicity and tafte
of that ancient contented neighbourhood! This, though I
do not in general eſteem hearfay allegations as the moſt im-
maculate and decifive, will doubtlefs carry its due weight in
evidence of our ſtory's being of ancient notoriety in England,
and at leaſt coeval with, if not prior to its rival of the Conti-
nent, which, if not identically the fame, is manifeftly of a kindred
ftock. But this, when corroborated by antique vouchers
from the prefs, which cannot be rationally controverted or
miſtaken, muſt, I ſhould imagine, obviate every cavil, and
finally fettle the diſpute.
This I know will fcarcely fatisfy your perfevering corref
pondent. The gentleman in his travelling capacity, is curious
in his reſearches, that is perfectly in character, and oppor-
tunely, it ſeems, he falls in with a perſon of confummate in-
telligence, his communicative Hoft, not lefs able than will
ing to gratify his inquifitive gueft, who as we have ſeen proves
a ſtrenuous partizan. He got a hint, no matter how, of a
formidable force in array against him, and aware of the in-
fufficiency of his outworks, has recourfe to new levies, clearly
for the purpoſe of countermining the affailants. . . . Whoſe is
the tale of Leonora? that is the queftion. Common fame,
according to him, decides it in favour of Saxony; but, fetting
afide his militia of reporters, who are not wholly free from
inconfiftencies, the German Mercury (der Deutſche Mercur.
Sect. 2d, &c.) is appealed to; but how does that mend the
matter?
200
ON THE ORIGIN OF
matter? In oppofition to records of immemorial exiſtence, a
pofthumous publication, a chronicle of to day, a common news-
paper, is preſſed into the fervice; upon what principle of
reaſoning, can fuch an authority defeat the claims of primo-
geniture, or put down ſturdy objectors? Poſitive aſſertion,
and the fame rambling goffip's creed, tricked out in modern.
print, is but a fort of left-handed defence; a fond repetition
of ftill the fame noftrum exhibited in a more convenient
vehicle. It furniſhes nothing new, nothing more to the pur-
pofe, nothing more to be relied on, confequently nothing more
convincing or conclufive. Our documents of eſtabliſhed an-
tiquity he cannot abfolutely refift, but their authority he is
anxious to evade. "The Collection of old Ballads publiſhed
“in London, and in which" as he parfimoniouſly admits," the
matter of that Poem," meaning Leonora, " is contained."
Obferve! he does flightingly advert to; but he recognizes.
it with manifeft constraint, and brings it, coram nobis,
for the fole purpoſe of depreciating its validity. In quot-
ing the title of the Poem or Suffolk Miracle, as he flight-
ingly gives it, the moſt ſtriking part, and that moſt material
to the point at iffue, is fuppreffed; I mean the incident of
the horſe and his preternatural expedition. The omiffion, we
may prefume, was intentional, perhaps not, with as many
other perhapſes as you pleafe; for I have no pleaſure in taxing
any gentleman with disingenuouſneſs; nevertheleſs, in other
refpects, he is abundantly minute. He is needlefsly particu-
lar as to the number of volumes, and hypercritically precife
in the chronology of their publication, which he refers to the
year 1723. . A conceffion of fome importance, which perad-
venture, unwittingly eſcaped him; Bürger was born in the
year 1748. The inference is plain. My Father, whoſe ob-
ject was truth, to afford every unprejudiced reader, a fair
opportunity of judging for himſelf, has given the entire legend
of the Suffolk Miracle, verbatim, from the collection, this
moment before me, as it ftands; and whoever compares that
and
BÜRGER'S LEONORA.
201
A
2
and Leonora together, needs no fpectacles to perceive a co-
incidence of circumftances, and a reſemblance too cloſe, to ad-
mit, without difficulty, the perfuafion of its being purely ac-
cidental.
But be not ſurpriſed, gentle Reader! if by the way thou
art informed of a fact as yet unhinted at, probably unſuſpected.
Much has been faid of a Collection of old Ballads, in three
volumes, printed Anno 1723. Our Critics, who cannot
keep counſel, were they true adepts in ancient lore, belike
would have told us, no collection of that deſcription in the
archives of literature is diſcoverable; nevertheleſs, the infer-
ence as to Bürger is tenable and fair. There is a ſmall typo-
graphical error in the date ſo affigned, it may be of the prefs,
fo
or poffibly owing to one of two incidental caufes, unneceſſary
to particularize: Be that as it may, it is of little confequence,
the error is eaſily rectified; for 1723 read 1727. This is the
edition cited by Dr. Percy in his Reliques of Ancient Engliſh
Poetry, particularly in the ſhort hiftorical illuſtration prefixed
to the Dragon of Wantley, where he acknowleges his obli-
gations for fome pertinent obfervations on that ſubject, and
makes honourable mention of the former editor.
Both have
enriched their collections with curious prolegomena, at the
head of the feveral ballads refpectively adopted, and from this
conformity of plan it is not improbable, the Reverend Dr.
took the hint from his predeceffor. The collection more par-
ticularly referred to, appears to have been the firſt of the
kind, and the edition more immediately in contemplation, is
expressly the third; another circumftance which your elaborate
inveſtigator has adroitly flurred over, willing, as at firſt view
it might appear, to confine the knowlege of that miraculous
tale in England to the æra affigned. That there was no ſuch
collection in three volumes ever publifhed, antecedent to the
edition of 1727 may be ſafely afferted; it is evident, from the
book itself. The two preceding editions extended no farther than
to
202
ON THE ORIGIN OF
1
to a fingle volume each; even the edition of 1727, which is the
third, and now in my hand, is not announced in the title page as
one of a fet; but was fent into the world, as a fingle volume
alſo, though in the preface, which is pleaſantly and fenfibly
written, we are led fpeedily to expect a continuation. Now
allowing time for the fale of the two former impreffions,
which, being adorned with fuitable engravings and for thefe
days rather expenſive, could hardly have been very rapid, we
may reaſonably fix the period of the first appearance of thoſe
legendary tales in that form, about the beginning of the cen-
tury. How long before this contefted phenomenon had been
in circulation in a halfpenny ballad; how long before it had
been handed about in manufcript; how long before the ſtory
might have paffed from father to fon by oral tradition; or
how long before it might have been in requifition in the
nurſery
When finally by night
The village matron, round the blazing hearth,
Sufpends the infant audience with her tales,
Breathing aſtoniſhment:
How long, I fay, the Suffolk Miracle in one fhape or other,
might have been the theme of our rude admiring anceſtors, I
am not blcffed with your correfpondent's intuitive power over
climates, epochs and æras to determine. Let me, however,
not detract from his mcrit. His exertions in the caufe, how-
ever unimportant, prove his patriotic feelings, fuppofing him
really Saxon, and might fairly put my good friend John Bull
to the blush. He leaves no stone unturned to do honour to
his natale folum, and attach the laurel to his countryman;
laudable fo far is his intention; in which, if he fails, it af-
fords a fine opportunity of deriding our folly in fo unaccount-
ably ſacrificing at the ſhrine of vanity, and laviſhing diſtinc-
tions on exotic adventurers to the prejudice of domeſtic worth,
་
and
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
203
'
J
and difcouragement of native talents. An Engliſh edition,
fplendid beyond compare, is published of his countryman's
Poem, a ſingle ballad, fought after and bought up with avi-
dity at an enormous price; enormous we may furely call it,
when three of the printed copies bring more in the fhops, than
was paid for the manuſcript of Milton's Paradiſe Loft, which
for a length of years, configned to duſty oblivion, lay moul-
dering on the fhelves uncalled for and unnoticed. But this
your worthy poſtmaſter makes a piſh at, and the compliment
to his countryman is loft in the irritation he feels, at our at-
tempting to claim the privilege of thinking, and what is
fimply and equitably our right. Such is foreign gratitude!
fuch the reward of Britiſh genius!! and fuch the confiderations
deemed trivial and unimportant!!!... The pre-eminence of
foreign genius, ufhered forth with fignal diftinctions, was
lavishly afferted; the modeft claim of our Suffolk Minftrcl
was brought forward, but not with infult or illiberality; and
however by fecond fight, or otherwife, your ingenious cor-
refpondent got intimation of it, was by him and his abettors
unceremoniouſly difputed. His arguments were incontinently
efpoufed, and favoured with extenfive circulation among
us; but cold water thrown upon thofe for domeftic defert.
Is what was thought of fuch importance when a Foreigner
was in queftion, then only matter of indifference, when a
ftigma is attached to our Country, and a Native in the cafe?
Call you this backing your Friends, my Countrymen? I do not
wiſh to raviſh one ſprig of bays from the temples of Bürger; on
the contrary, I reſpect his talents, and willingly ſubſcribe to
his deferts; "that the story has gained confiderably under his
"hand is not denied;" but I contend, that for its reception,
and the high eſtimation it has acquired in England, much is
alfo
* Four Guineas I have heard asked in Dublin for a £ingle copy, and
four Guineas I believe was the price ufually paid.
204
ON THE ORIGIN OF
alfo due to his tranflators, who, in their turn, have pruned away
his excrefcencies, foftened down his afperities, and exhibited
him fo much to advantage in their verſions. A poſition
which I forefee may be ungracious to fome, and require fome-
thing more than a bare ipfe dixit to make good.
The German is not yet a language generally in vogue, of
courſe competent judges of Bürger in his native uniform,
are not extremely numerous among us; yet judges, more or
lefs, we have among us, and to help out the quorum, we may
call upon the tranflators, a defcription of writers, who, if not
enthuſiaſtically partial to their archetypes, are, for obvious
reafons, not wont to under-rate them; or damp the ardour
of curiofity, by depreciating works, which must neceffarily
have coft them time and pains in preparing for general re-
ception. The Laureat, who, for the gratification of his
countrymen, has rendered Leonora into the vernacular tongue,
modeftly ſpeaking of the tafk he has fo laudably performed,
thus admonifhes his readers: . . . ." This is a tranflation
"line by line, and as near the original, as the reſtraint of
"verfification and the idiom and genius of the different lan-
cr guages would admit; a cloſer verfion would in fome places
"have been ridiculous, and in others profane.". . . . Again:
"This little Poem, from the fingularity of the incidents, and
the wild horror of the images, is certainly an object of
' curiofity; but is by no means held up as a pattern for imi-
"tation." By the way, the claim of merit, whatever it
may be, for fingularity of incident and wild horror of imagery
was anticipated by our Suffolk Minstrel, but could not be
perceived, it ſeems, till feen through a foreign medium. . .
Mr. Spence whofe fervid youth, aiding and happily aided by the
fifter art, indulges greater freedom and a bolder touch; and
Mr. Stanley, who with a Critic's ſkill and Poet's fire, improves
the canvas, and gives it an effect peculiarly his own, upon
the
whole
BÜRGER'S LEONOR A.
205
,
*
whole concur in fentiment with the Laureat. It was faid of
Pope's Iliad, and not unworthily was it faid:
That future ages fhall with wonder ſeek
Who 'twas tranflated Homer into Greek.
Without going into the queſtion of comparative excellence,
at which the bigots to antiquity would ſhake their heads, it
muſt be acknowleged, the author of the couplet, in a few
words, gives us an advantageous idea of Engliſh genius, and
for the purpoſe there can be no harm in taking the compli-
ment literally; no difparagement then to your paragon of
Saxony, or offence to her fanguine admirers, I would ſay to
the Engliſh Leonora, take which verfion you will:
Fabula naratur.
mutato nomine de te
•
Whether this be, or be not, a cafe pertinently adduced, or
cæteris paribus, appofite to the point, is fubmitted to the
judges; but let him not boast of his impartiality who con-
ftrues it a reflection on Bürger.
Our foreignized competitors, I am aware, will give no
credit for this. All or none is their motto. They will rather
compromiſe the claims of Bürger's originality, and facrifice
the cause of their juftly-admired Favourite, than yield a fingle jot
of it to their rivals. Will do it, did I fay? they have done it;
I have proved it; the letter proves itſelf. Waving the pre-
tenfions of Bürger, freſh ground is broken; England or
Saxony, that is now the queſtion. The conteft becomes na-
tional, and at all events, to wreft the ftory from the Britons,
and for ever to annihilate their faucy pretenfions, your
champion of the North is at no lofs. In a fingle line he gives
them the coup de grace; with a ſtroke of his pen he damns
Ee
them
206
ON THE ORIGIN OF
them... no ancient memorial or written monument has he
in his power to confront them; in the lapfe of ages ink is
diſcharged; parchment periſhes, and flone and mortar crum-
bles into duft. He goes roundly to work. Conjecture, pure
conjecture is his dernier refort, and in that he is veritably with-
out parallel. Thirteen hundred years to him are but as yef-
terday. With the ſpeed of Pacolet's flying horſe, or ghoſtly
William's ghoftly Charger, whip, fpur and away, he hurries
us back to the predatory times of Hengift and Horfa.
There his hopes reft at the fated goal. There he fixes the
period of this wonderful ſtory's importation into Britain.
We have been led a woundy dance, Sirs! Let us breathe.
•
Muſt we then tamely acquiefce, and with tacit ſubmiſſion,
authorize the delufion? If fo, what fimilar depredations may
not in future be attempted. Adieu then to Robin Hood.
Sherwood Foreft may be found in the purlieus of Glandorf,
and Birnham wood be brought to Dunfinane. Chevy-chace
we muſt relinquiſh, and the Babes in the Wood muft again
be abandoned, unfortunately contained in the fame volume
with the Suffolk Miracle. . ... Well-a-day! what a doleful
cataſtrophe muft enfue! What a fad revolution among the
feathered choirs! Poor Robin-red-breafts, the pathetic inci-
dent of your covering the deferted innocents painfully with
leaves will no more be remembered; ſtripped, of your ancient
palladium, your little lives, wont to be held facred in Britain, will
be expoſed; you will be treated as vulgar birds; your curious
neſts of mofs will be rifled. In the bleak froſty glooms of
December no more fhall ye place confidence in man; enter
fearleſs the rural cot, and hopping beneath the ruſtic board,
pick up the crumbs there in fafety; every prowling urchin
will perſecute you, and the epicure, refining upon gluttony,
will twiſt your gloffy necks, and have you ſpitted for the
table. . . . . For pity's fake fufpend the tale of woe; it muſt
not, ſhall not be; reft, gentle birds! fecure; no lurking foe
awaits
BÜRGER'S LEONORA.
207
<
awaits you.
This all is fuppofition, chimerical and ground-
lefs, and almoſt as far-fetched as his of Saxony, who in his
zeal for the antiquity of the ftory of the Suffolk Miracle, alias
the Dutch Ballad, alias Leonora, tells us, "perhaps it is fo
old that the Saxons carried it over to England," meaning as
has been obſerved at the invaſion of Hengift and Horfa. Α
bold affertion to be fure, and affertion, qualified with a per-
haps, is all we have for it. We want proof more relative
than this... Well! conjectures coft nothing, and guarded
with a perhaps, are as free to us as to the Poſtmaſter, and for
any thing that has as yet appeared, it may be English or Welſh,
or perhaps Irish as well as Saxon.
The bards of Great Britain were a numerous and highly
favoured tribe, who wanted neither invention to frame, nor
ſkill to adapt to their harps, a tale fo well fuited to the tem-
per and taste of the chivalrous times of King Arthur; and
none better calculated in its turn, for the entertainment of his
illuftrious court, and his gallant knights of the round table.
It was a fubject that could not fail of being popular; thus the
Saxon invaders, who frequently must have heard it from the
itinerant minstrels of thofe days, picked it up and carried it
back with them to their own country; and a pretty tale it
was for the fugitives to cover the difgrace of their defeats,
and conciliate the good will of their Defdemonas in their fo-
reſts at home, who little fcrupulous would indulge female
curiofity, "and with a greedy ear devour up their difcourfe."
That it could not poffibly originate with them is proved from
internal evidence. We perceive in it traces of local manners
and cuftoms, with a variety of other particulars effential to
the fable, without which it could not have exiſted, and there-
fore muſt have been in its primary concoction, a conſtituent part.
The peculiar ftyle of the machinery, the preternatural inci-
dents and ſcope of the plot altogether, furnish demonſtration
incontrovertible. The Saxons of thofe times and long after,
were,
208
ON THE ORIGIN OF
1
}
were, to a man, Pagans, and could have no conception of a
fubject, that fmells fo powerfully of the cloiſter. They
burned their dead, and could have no idea of fpirits "doomed
for a certain time to walk the night." The votaries of Woden,
Thor and Freia had no churches and church-yards for ceme-
teries; and the bufinefs of their undertakers, if of that voca-
tion any they had, was to collect faggots, not to provide cof-
fins or winding-fheets, nor have I heard they ufed either
palls, fcarfs or hatbands. The place of Sexton, like many
fnug places among ourſelves, muſt have been a mere finécure;
bells were unknown in the wilds of Saxony; even rappers,
that grievous tax on the indolence and eafe of High Life be-
low Stairs, was a fubfequent contrivance; the founding horm
announced the coming gueft; yet all, fave one, are mentioned
or neceffarily implied in the progrefs of the ftory. Arthur
and his Britons were Chriftians, and fimplicity, enthuſiaſm
and credulity, the popular characteristics. Every circum-
ftance of this miraculous legend, impreffed with congenial'
features, marks the offspring of fuperftition and monkiſh
impofture; and if authority were wanting, that of Jeffrey
of Monmouth, I prefume, would be rejected; but Gildas,
fome five or fix hundred years, a religious of elder repute, in his
account of Miracles, has recorded not a few, upon which that
of Suffolk might eafily enough be grafted. Hence, admitting
its pofitive antiquity as prefumed by the ingenious Hoft, a
prefumption which may perhaps be erroneous, and on which
I by no means infifl, it could not be of Saxon, but clearly of
British extraction. That the Suffolk Miracle, and the Saxon
Leonora, notwithſtanding fome modern touches, have many
traits in common he partially allows; but in throwing it fo
far back, however inconfiftently, if we can guess at his mean-
ing, he would transfer the charge of plagiariſm, and inſinuate
that the Suffolk Minstrel was rather indebted to Bürger than
Bürger in any wife obligated to our Suffolk Minſtrel.
1
Having
BÜRGER'S LEONORA,
200
Having thus far accompliſhed his deſultory taſk, the learned
Hoft or Poſtmaſter as the text has it, in the fulneſs of ſelf-
complacency, contemplating his imaginary triumph, thus to
a trial of ſkill in the perfon of his inquifitive gueſt, challenges
the troop of fceptical readers. "The explanation of the re-
femblance of our tale," as he will needs have it,
to the
Suffolk Miracle I must leave to you.".... This my Father
has fome time ago done to his hand, as clearly ſtated in his
Obfervations already referred to, which, as alſo before hinted,
the gentleman fomehow, or I am ftrangely miſtaken, pre-
viouſly got a peep at, and aided by an odd concurrence of
circumſtances, has been at confiderable pains to defeat. His
own opinion of the matter in the ſweeping clauſe, I have juſt
been confidering, upon his own principles, by a parity of
reaſoning in his own way, I think I have fairly confuted. A
few things ftill remain, but ere we proceed to boult this
matter to the bran, fome apology. Stay, ſtay, ſomewhat
peevishly interrupts Mr. Dapperwit, this is too long; ſo on
another occafion, fays old Polonius in the Play, and apropos,
the fame anſwer may ferve both; but ſeriouſly, to make the
moſt of your hint, Signor Dapperwit, enough, perhaps too
much has been ſaid on a ſubject which after all muſt remain
for ever problematical. Enough and too much indeed, with
a faftidious fhrug, rejoins your modern Stagyrite, it puts
one in mind of a good thing formerly faid on the diſputes
about two rival cat-gut fcrapers :
•
•
Strange all this difference fhould be,
'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee!
Yea, verily, and it might put thee in mind too of poor
Chatterton, againſt whom, ill-fated youth! the doughty corps
of wits rofe up in fell array, and badgered to the death!
Did
栌
​210
ON THE ORIGIN OF
}
Did he want merit? No,* he wanted bread; and in addition
to the crime of poverty, he was an Englishman, and the
harmleſs plagiariſt of a name. Bürger, a foreigner, perfo-
nally or through the indifcreet zeal of his admirers, we ftill,
under
LA
•
"Johnfon
* We are ſupported on this queſtion, take it in the rough:
faid of Chatterton: this is the most extraordinary young man that has
encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the whelp has written
fuch things!" Bofwell's Johnson, 2d edit. vol. 2, p. 412. Senfible how
poor a figure virtue makes when laquied by pale poverty, and to his miſ-
fortune, as in the event it proved, fenfible of the influence of a name, as
a forlorn hope, this friendleis youth facrificed at the fhrine of Apollo,
under the appellation of one Rowley, a Monk, of another century; who,
whatever it might contribute to the honour of his memory, could fuffer
no injury from the affumption. Yet furely the action, conftrue it as you
may, was not without precedent. Are not all who fhelter themſelves
under feigned fignatures, a practice notoriouſly common; all who pub-
liſh narratives founded on facts, that never had exiſtence but in the
writer's imagination; all who exhibit as tranſlations, compofitions in no
other language extant; all who produce epiftolary correfpondences from
the cloſets of celebrated characters never concealed but in the archives of
their own pericraniums; all who preſent tours that were never made but
in their own apartments; all who write letters to themſelves in the
name of others, and indulge the public with their anfwers, for ſpecial
purpoſes which it might not be over-modeft or convenient to avow; in
effect, is not every anonymous writer, paragraphift, effayift, pamphleteer, or
bookmaker, allowing all their merit, availing himſelf of a mask, and per-
haps with lefs excufable incitements on a footing in that reſpect with
Chatterton? Yet they in peace enjoy the plenteous harveſt of their
labours; and he, as the vileft criminal is, ſubjected to mercileſs perfecution.
It is freſh within the memory of many now living, that one of thofe cc-
lebrated muſicians mentioned in the text, would in common for his
morning's whet, fwallow more than would have regaled that deferted.
young genius for a week, and would do alderman-like juftice to a Lord.
Mayor's feaft an hour after. Chatterton, with the fender pittance he
could procure by his pen, enjoyed one only luxury, the luxury of now
and then contributing his mite to the relief of a deftitute mother and
his fifter, but even of that melancholy gratification unremitting cruelty
speedily deprived them. In the fulfilment of the pious duty, finking
under the gripe of oppreffion, to fatisfy the cravings of hunger, at the
age of eighteen he had recourfe to the bottle. Merciful God! 'twas
artenic!
}
BÜRGER'S LEONOR a.
211
under correction, are difpofed to think, appropriator of the
honours of an entire poem; widely different too was the cafe
with your reputed catgut fcrapers; who can be ſtrangers to
the name and merit of Handel and Bononcini? they too were
foreigners, who enjoyed their confequence and fared fumptu--
ouſly every day: yet, candidly to ſpeak, the farcaſm however
miſapplied has a ſeaſoning of wit; but witticiſm is not ortho-
doxy; nor the dogma of an individual the go-cart for a world.
The fatirical genius to whom that epigrammatic fally is in ge-
neral, though erroneously attributed, * was of fo fingular a
temperament touching that delightful art, that he has been
known to declare, the fcraping of a cutler's grind-ftone, or
the hideous din of a pair of intriguing caterwaulers fqualling
their midnight duets was to his ears as agreeable as the fineſt
concerto on the organ executed by the finger of Handel, in
which predicament, Sir Critic! perhaps thou ſtandeft in re-
gard to the ſubjects of prefent enquiry; but are you all, my
Countrymen! thus ftoically conſtituted? Prejudice apart, are
•
not
The elegant tranflator of Pliny, in a very claffical Collection of Original
Letters under the affumed appellation of Sir Thomas Fitzosborne..
Alas, poor Chatterton! what greater was thy fault? attributes this
little Jue d'Esprit to Swift, and gives the two lines here cited, as the
whole of it, upon which he founds a delicate ironical difquifition on the
abuſe of Verbal Criticifm: (letter 63) but that ingenious gentleman is
miſtaken as to the author. The Dean of St. Patrick's, though much in his
manner, had no title to it whatever. The original is in Gx lines, and was
written by Mr. Byrom of Mancheſter; the curious Reader will find it in
a Collection of his Poems well worth the perufal; it runs as follows:
EPIGRAM ON THE FEUDS BETWEEN THE ADMIRERS OF
HANDEL AND BONONCINI.
Some fay, compared to Bononcini,
That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny;
Others aver, that he to Handel,,
Is fcarcely fit to hold a candle:
Strange all this difference ſhould be
'Twixt tweedle- dum and tweedle-dee i
Y
ہے
212
ON THE ORIGIN OF
not ninety-nine out of a hundred of the elaborate diſcuſ-
fions hourly obtruded from the prefs, every whit as unim-
portant, fave to the paper-trade, and of as trifling a nature
on the ſcale of amufement, as the burthen of an old fong?
Addiſon, who bore no contemptible fway in the republic of
letters, and is allowed withal to have had pretty tolerable no-
tions of the utile dulce, affords fome pertinent inftances of his
predilection for ancient ballads. Who will fay that his com-
ments on Chevy-chace, and eke of the Children in the Wood,
are not proofs of a better taſte and a more innocent way of
amuſing himſelf, as well as his readers, than if the time had
been laviſhed in treading the dark mazes of nefarious politics;
diffeminating ſcandal, or propagating falſe doctrines, herefy
and fchifm? the faſhionable occupation, the opprobrium and
the bane of this our enlightened and philoſophiſing age! Dr.
Johnſon does not condemn the conduct of the Author of the
Spectators, and the fame venerated Cenfor, who was never
an advocate for trifling, in exprefs terms, fanctions the te-
nour of our prefent lucubrations. Thefe are his words:
"What is borrowed is not to be enjoyed as our own; and
"it is the buſineſs of critical juſtice to give every bird of the
"Mufes his proper feather." Why then to our ſtory, and
"if I were as tedious as a king I could find in my heart to'
"beſtow it all on your worship."
Our opponent throws down the gauntlet, and marſhals me
the way that I should go. Like the flame of an expiring
taper, after burning to the fnuff, with intermitting gleams,
ftill hovering o'er the focket, he hankers after Bürger; at in-
tervals he quits him, at intervals returns; quits, returns again
and quits; once more! he barely twinkles; this effort is his
laft. Alas! poor Ghoft, go on I'll follow thee...." For
my part," fo voucheth the learned Hoft, ftill hankering after
Bürger, "I am fully fatisfied" who doubts it; but are your
readers ſatisfied?" that Bürger did not take his Poem from
any
¡
BURGER's LEONORA.
213
r any English Ballad, but from an old low Dutch Tale;
the more fo as Mr. Schlegel affures us, that Burger in
"the study of the old Engliſh Ballads, confined himſelf al-
"most exclufively to Percy's Reliqucs of Ancient Poetry.'
Is not this on one fide half giving up the queſtion and beg-
ging it on the other? Begging is no crime, and feeing it
is the fashion, let us follow the example, and as the ſong
fays, a begging we will go.' "Confined himſelf almoſt
exclufively to Percy's Reliques," was the phrafe, and a
faving phraſe it is; yet, tho' a general rule, like other
Would not
general rules, it plainly admits of exceptions.
a man fond of reading, if occafion offered, be tempted to
tranfgrefs it? I am fure I fhould, and fo, or I miſtake my
man, would Bürger; a fingle trefpafs would fufficiently
anfwer the end; and furely it is more than probable the
temptation was not wanting. Would not the fame curiofity
that led him to enquire for Percy's Reliques, wherein our
collection is fo honourably noticed, in all likelihood excite
a desire to peruſe others of a like kind, for which there is
no good reaſon to fuppofe he had far to feek? The book in
queftion, antecedent to Percy's, had gone through three
editions, we may fuppofe numerous ones, and then was in
circulation. It was known even in the remoteft quarters
of Ireland:
The
copy I have was purchaſed in the town of Cavan by an
Iriſh Divine *, and was not the only one, nor confined to a
corner. There fubfifts an affinity of old between the in-
habitants of the two countries, I mean Saxony and Eng-
land,
Et penitus tato divifos orbe Hibernos.'
F f
The Rev. John Jermyn:-his great-grand-daughter, the wife
of John Parry, bookfeller, Anglefea-ftreet, had the book from her
mother, who, as well as her father Mr. James Shore, a reſpecta-
ble citizen of Dublin, remembers the Suffolk Miracle, handed
down from her reverend grandfire as a popular old ftory about the
vicinage, in his childhood; the good couple full of years are ill
living. The volume alluded to, containing this, together with a
number of other rare pieces, fold originally new for about three
fillings. I faw within theſe few days a copy of Leoncia alone,
in no very extraordinary binding, rated at 131. 135. ! !
114
ON THE ORIGIN OF
land, and that renovated, ftrengthened and cemented by the
addition of royal ties. This would naturally create in the
minds of the Saxon Literati a predilection for our hiftory.
Ballads are the brief chronicles of the times, and it is evi-
dent, fuch chronicles are in request among them, and our
language an object of purfuit; how elfe came Percy to be
fo well known and underſtood on that fide the ocean? The
fame cauſes that operated in favour of our right-reverend
literary antiquarian, would likewife operate in favour of
others in the fame line, and by what means foever his col-
lection obtained a footing there, upon the fame principle,
by fair deduction, we may conclude to a certainty, his pre-
deceffor's, which is chiefly of the hiftorical clafs, was the
harbinger; procured the paffport, and ultimately pointed
out the way. Theſe matters duly taken into confideration,
your ingenious Hoft might have fpared his exultations; his
riddle needs no Oedipus; but it leads to a uſeful caution,
and involves a difficulty, for which poffibly he may not be
prepared. Beware of miſtaken zeal! no enemy does inore
mifchief than an indifcreet friend. Admitting the exiſtence
of that fame Dutch Ballad, on which fuch ftrefs is laid,
and knew they any other for their purpoſe it would not
have been put under a bufhel*, it is yet to be proved, that
that fame Dutch Ballad itfelf is not a plagiarifm; borrow-
ed, and fomewhat difguifed, perhaps to conceal the fact,
from the English; confequently on our opponent's own
prineiples, Leonora a copy at fecond hand; in other words
an imitation of an imitation; which, without forcing the
premifes, affords a fecond, and by no means an improbable
folution of the refemblance of the German Leonora to
Our original Suffolk Miracle. . . . FIAT JUSTICIA.
I might here amufe my readers with a comparative ana-
lyfis of the Suffolk Miracle, and the Poem of Leonora ; dif-
criminate the features of refemblance, and fhow how and
in what particulars, the one is an improvement on the
other. I might purſue the fame courfe with our different
tranſlations of Leonora, four of which are in poffeffion of
the
* Under a buſhel... Our English Critics, vid. Poftſc, p. 215,
1
7
BURGER's LEONORA.
215
1
the Public, and comparing them with each other, and with
the original, point out their feveral beauties, and not de-
rogating from the merits of Burger, fhew wherein his tran-
flators have the pre-eminence-But, to borrow a phrafe of
claffical extraction :
Gentlemen! I have done.
E.-A, W.
P. S. Our English Critics, fomehow hurt as it should
feem at our developement of this poetical mystery; have en-
deavoured to help out the foreign writer by a reference to
Southey [v. p. 189.] We have read the extract referred
to, but honeftly confefs we do not clearly perceive the "obvi-
ous resemblance" between a withered, fuperannuated Beldam,
roufed out of her Grave by her quondam coadjuter the De-
vil, and a virtuous young Spinster, in a moment of ecfta-
cy, fubmitting to a voluntary elopement with her ſpouſe apa-
rent. Our Suffolk Miracle is not merely refemblance; it is
Identity. If what Matthew of Westminster relates be in
reality to the purpoſe, ſo far is it from milituting against
our argument, it is manifeftly in its favour. Matthew of
Weftminfter takes precedence of Olaus Magnus and the Nu-
remberg Chronicle. The era of his tale he has not left in-
volved in affected obfcurity, or ſheltered under an ambigu-
cus perhaps. The time of action, if action it may be called,
is exprefsly flated, and, literally from the text, the extra&
bears date A. D. 852 †. The Author is confeffedly of Weft-
minster, and Weftminfler is in England; the fcene lies in
Berkeley, and Berkeley is in England; fome remote indica-
tions
*..." Infuite me defun&tam in corio cervino, ac deinde in
Sarcophago lapideo fupponite." :.. Factumque eft ut præceperat
îllis, etc.. Dæmon ergo geftu videbatur arroganti ad Sepul-
chrum accedens, et nomen mulieris modicum ingeminans, furgere
imperavit, etc.
† A. D. 852. Circa dies iftos. Mulier quædam malefica, in
villâ quas Berkeleia dicitur degens, gulæ amatrix ac petulantia,
flagitiis modum ufque in fenium et auguriis non ponens, ufque ad
mortem impudica permanfit, etc.
Vide Extr. Mat. Weft. Southey's Poems, vol. 2, p. 143:
216
POSTSCRIP T.
tions of local manners and customs are moreover difcernible,
and theſe too are characteristic of the priftine manners and
cufloms in England: Ergo; It is, upon record, of imme-
morial antiquity, an English Story; which, as I take it,
perfectly coincides with our idea of the Suffolk Miracle.
Finally, in regard to the faid Matthew of Westminster's
tale, admitting for the fake of argument, its "obvious re-
Jemblance to the Story of Lenoré," as by our foreign Au-
thor's Critical Friends is fuggefted, in every conceivable
point of relation to the matters in question, it affords fupple-
mentary and corroborating proof of Lenore's English Ex-
traction. On the other hand, fuppofing cur English Min-
frel to have modeled his Piece from the relation of his coun-
tryman Matthew of Westminster, which is much to be doubt-
ed, confilering how effentially in almost every point they dif
fer, it must have appeared in the shape of the Suffolk Mira-
cle a century at least before the celebrated writer of Lenoré
could hold a pen, or even the Minnefinger who perhaps uſed
the incident that contributed its ſparkles in the Low Dutch
Bullud, to which, if it bears not an obvious resemblance, it
might prove on examination as nearly akin. Robert Scu-
they, a favourite English Poet of the prefent day, has of
late revived the Tale of the odious old Harridan, and the
Extract to be found in the 2d vol. of his Poems was, we
may lawfully prefume, to oblige the foreign Author [of Sax-
ony] eſpecially referred to, conjointly with Olaus Magnus
and the Nuremberg Chronicle; but the Suffolk Miracle, to
which, not only in the catastrophe but in the moſt material
incidents and purport of the Fable throughout, the tale of
Lenoré bears a decided and fill more obvious and friking
refemblance, tho' furnished ready to their hand, is wholly
overlooked, and configned to oblivion; yet in what refpect
the reference tends to frengthen or throw light on the fo-
reign Author's argument is not quite so obvious as Mr.
Cordes and his Friends may imagine. We beg leave, in our
turn, to refer to Olaus Magnus, their own Hiftorian, in
whoſe works, printed at Antwerp, it is true the Tale alfo
cccurs; cited almoft verbatim as we find it related by his
Precurfor in the wonderful, Matthew of Westminster: But
it is not becauſe it incidentally occurs in the multifarious
POSTSCRIPT.
217
(C
pages of a Northern Hiftoriographer that it is therefore
originally a Northern Story, as by fair implication they
would have it underſtood. Matthew of Westminster, a
learned Benedictine Monk, Hijtorian and Chronologer in the
14th century, died A. D. 1380. Olaus Magnus, the good
Archbishop of Upfal, Primate of Sweden and Gothland,
about the middle of the 16th century, a native alfo of that
country, takes up the Story and exprefsly declares it,
Angliæ," of England, The far-famed Staple of Romance.
The work of our learned Benedictine first printed in Lmdon,
was republished Jome time after at Frankfort. This goes to
prove, even to demonftration, that the Northern Bards, or
Scalds as they are called, for Instruction in British Lore
were not trufting to "Percy's Reliques." From incontef
tible authority, their own national archives, (not forgetting
the Nuremberg Chronicle) open to the in/pection of the curi-
ous, we learn, our old British Chronicles, fraught with the
Legendary Tales of cther Times, were a plenteous lource of
recondite Erudition and Winter Evenings Amuſement upon
the Continent, throughout Germany, and the Scandinavian
Regions even to utmost Thule. We cannot therefore Jub-
fcribe to Mr. Cordes extravagant Hypothefis, ufbered in
with a perhaps, for the explanation of the Refembiance of
the German Lenoré and cur Suffolk Miracle. "The Tale
perhaps is" not "Jo old as that the Saxons carried it over to
England," but on the contrary, an old Story, indifputably,
a very popular old Story carried, however circuitously, from
England into Saxony, a pofition irrefragally founded, as
above fhewn, on the fettled ufage of their most admired An-
naliſts. Thus, if other proofs were wanting, the Refom-
blance, or rather Identity of Bürger's Tale and the Suffolk
Miracle, fo decidedly its Predeceffer, is in direct oppofition
to the forced affumption of Mr. J. Francis Cordes, natural-
ly, clearly and fatisfactorily accounted for. Whatever
Changes or Modifications it may have undergone it is a ge-
nuine English Story, conclufively the Archetype of the Ger-
man Lenoré, and in its original native, plain and fimple
Dreſs entitled to a place among "THE TALES OF WON-
'Tis wonderful the Compiler of that extraordinary
DER.
Collection left it out!
218 DE CASTIGATIONE MALEFICARUM.
*NE videantur feptentrionales malefica folum hic ad trij
tia fpectacula adduci, occurrit Vincen. in Spe. Hift. lib. 25,
cap. 26, afferens Anglicanam fœminam arte magica illufam,
a Dæmonibus poft dira tormenta, ad acra cum clamoribus
horrendis fuiſſe rapta. Cujus verba hæc funt. Mulier quæ-
dam apud Berkeleiam Angliæ villam auguratrix et malefica,
cum quadam die convivaretur, cornicula quam habebat in
deliciis, vocalius folito nefcio quid cornicata eft. Quo au
dito, cultellus Dominæ de manu excidit, fimul et vultus ex-
palluit. Et ingemifcens diutiffime ait; Hodie ad ultimum
fulcum pervenit aratrum meum hodie audiam et accipiam
grande incommodum. Adhuc ea loquente, venit ad eam
nuncius dicens: Hodie mortuus eft filius tuus, et tota fa-
milia fubita morte interiit. Quo audito, continuo dolore fau
cia decubuit: vocarique præcepit furperftites liberos, mona-
chum et monacham, quibus fingultiendo ait: Ego miferabili
quodam fato meo, damonicis actibus femper infervivi: Ego
vitiorum omnium fentina et illecebrarum magiftra fui ei ju-
perabam tantum in Religione veftra et a meipfa defperavi.
Nunc ergo, quia fcio me doemones habituram exactores in
pœna, quos habui fuafores in culpa, rogo vos per materna
vifcera, ut mea tentetis alleviarc tormenta: nam de Anima
fententiam dannationis non revocabitis. Corpus ergo meum
infuite in corio cervino et includite in lapideo farcophago et
operculum ferro et plumbo conftringite et Lapidem ipfum tri-
bus magnis catenis circundate. Si tribus noctibus ita fecure
jacuero, quarta die infodietis me in humo: quanquam verear
ne terra nolit me recipere pro maleficiis meis. Pfalmicines
quinqua-
This Extract, for obvious reafons, is taken verbatim from
Olaus Magnus, and compared with Vincentius Burgundius, an emi-
nent Theologian, Hiftorian, and Philofopher, whofe authority is
quoted. Thele works are extremely fcarce and not eafy of accefs.
Southey's volumne, a recent publication, containing the fame ſtory
in the words of Matthew of Westminster, may without difficulty
be confulted; but tho' we are given to understand it is alfo re
lated in the Nuremberg Chronicle, the whole of what is there faid
is comprized in four lines. Matthew of Westminster, remarkable
for
→
PUNISHMENT OF WITCHES.
219
LEST the Northern Witches fhould feem to be quoted
here only as having been made fad examples of, there
occurs in Vincentius's Hiftory, book 25, cap. 26, a ſtory
of an English woman, who having been baffled by the
magic art, was carried into the air with horrid fhouts by
the Dæmons, after fhe had endured fevere torments. The
words run thus: When a certain woman living at Berke-
ley, a ſmall village in England, a Fortune-teller and a
Sorcerefs, was one day fitting at dinner, a little crow,
which he was feeding for a delicate morfel, began to
chatter fomething, I know not what, in a more vocal
train than ufual. Upon hearing which, the knife fell
from the hand of the woman, and at the fame time her
countenance became pale; and heaving forth a heavy
high, after a long time fhe exclaims, To day has my
plough reached its utmoft furrow; to day I fhall hear and
receive fome terrible misfortune. While ſhe was ſpeak-
ing thefe words, a meffenger came to her faying, To
day your fon died, and his entire family periſhed by
a fudden death. Upon hearing which, the old woman
being feized with immediate grief fell down, and ſhe
commanded her furviving children to be called before her,
a monk and a nun, whom fhe thus addreffes in a falter-
ing voice: I have been the fource of all vices and the
miſtreſs of all feductions, and I had hopes of ſafety only
in your Religion, defpairing of every thing from my-
felf. Now therefore, fince I know full well that thofe
very Dæmons, who perfuaded me to commit every atro-
ious wickednefs, will be my executioners, I befeech
you by thefe maternal breaſts, that you will make an at-
tempt to allay my torments, for from my foul you cannot
recal the fentence of condemnation therefore pack up
my body in a deer fkin, and enclofe it in a fone fepul-
chre, and bind the cover with iron and lead, and fur-
round it with three great chains. If I fhall be fafe for
three nights, on the fourth bury me in the ground; tho'
I fear the earth will not be willing to receive me on ac-
:
count
220 DE CASTIGATIONE MALEFICARUM.
quinquaginta fint noctibus et miffa cantentur pro me tot die-
bus. Factum igitur eft ut præceperat et nihil valuit. Pri-
mis enim duabus noctibus, cum chori clericorum pfalmos ca-
nerent circa Corpus, finguli dæmones, Oftium ecclefiæ im-
mani obice claufum levi negotio confringentes, duas extremas
catenas diruperant : media vero quæ operofius elaborata eft,
illibata duravit. Tertia nocte circa Gallicantum, ftrepitu
advenientium hoftium, omne Monafterium vifum eſt a fun-
damentis moveri. Unus nempe vultu cæteris terribilior et
Statura celfior, januas majori vi concuffas in fragmenta de-
jecit, et arroganti geftu acceffit ad farcophagum, inclama-
toque nomine, ut furgeret, imperavit. Qua refpondente,
nequeo præ vinculis: Solueris, inquit, et malo tuo.
timque Catena, quæ cæterorum ferociam elucerat, nullo co-
namine ut ftupam dirupit, operculum tumba pede`depulit,
et apprehenfa manu palam omnibus, ab Ecclefia extraxit ad
fores, ubi paratus eft equus niger fuperbe hinniens, uncis
ferreis per totum protuberantibus, fuper quem mifera illa
mulier impofita, ab oculis intuentium cum toto fodalitio dif-
paruit. Audiebantur tamen Clamores, per quatuor fere mel-
liaria, miferabiles fuppetias deprecantes.
Sta
Ola. Mag. Hift. de Gent. Sept. Lib. iii, Cu. 20.
for his ftrict attention to veracity, was nevertheless tainted with the
contagion of the times, a belief in the powers of witchcraft and
preternatural agency; he gives the ftory of the Old Woman of
Berkeley as an eſtabliſhed truth, in which fentiment, with little or
no variation of circumstances, Olaus and Vincentius the French
author concur. Koberg, the writer of the Nuremberg Chronicle,
ſpeaks of it rather doubtingly as matter of report; but on the
point material to the prefent question there is but one opinion;
as to the fcene of action, all of them decifively agree it was in
ENGLAND.
Malefica quedam auguriatrix in Anglia, fuit quam mor tuam
Demones-horribiliter extraxerunt, Dum Clerici pfallerent, Et im-
ponentes fuper Equum terribilem per æra rapiunt. Clamores
quoque terribiles (ut ferunt) per quatuor ferme miliaria audieban-
tur. [Anthony Koberg's Chronicle, large folio, printed at Nu-
emberg. A. D. 1493. Fol. 188 b.]
·
PUNISHMENT OF WITCHES.
I
count of my crimes. Let there be fifty chorifters at
night, and let maffes be fung for me for fo many days,
It was done as the commanded them, but to no avail.
For the firft two nights, when the chorifters were chant -
ing pfalms around the body, the Dæmons, breaking the
door of the church with little trouble, which was cloſed
with a ſtrong bar, deftroyed the extreme chains; but
the middle one, which was formed fomewhat ftronger,
continued unbroken; and on the third night as the cock
crew, as at the found of an enemy approaching, the entire
Church feemed to be moved from its foundation. Then
one of the Dæmons in countenance fiercer and in ftature
taller than the reft, broke into pieces the gates which
were before fhaken with great violence, and with an ar-
rogant gefture approached the fepulchre; and bawling
out the woman's name commanded her to rife. Who
replying, I cannot on account of my chains: Now, fays
he, thou art loofed from them to thy own deſtruction.
And immediately that chain, which baffled the fiercenefs
of the other Dæmons, he deftroyed with little trouble,
as if it had been an hempen cord; the top of the tomb
he drove off with his foot, and feizing hold of the hand
of the woman in preſence of every body he dragged her
torth from the church to the door, where a black horfe
ftood proudly neighing, with iron hooks projecting from
every part of him, upon whom the miferable woman be-
ing flung, vanifhed from the fight of the by-ftanders,
attended with his whole crew. Yet fhouts of this un-
happy woman entreating affiftance were heard for nearly
four miles.
THE following Letter was received juft as the laſt
ſheet of this new impreffion of the preceding work was
committed to prefs. The infertion of it, though not
without confultation, may by fome faftidious readers be
conſtrued vanity: be it fo; to me, I freely acknowlege,
Dulce eft laudari a laudato Viro. The writer of it, is a
G g
gentleman
222
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
gentleman whofe various erudition and claffical tafle
have fecured to him an elevated rank among the Literati
abroad, as well as in his own country; at the fame
time that his conciliating manners, and, above all, the
goodnels of his heart, endear him more particularly to
to the favoured circle of his friends and acquaintance; of
which number, I have to boat the happineſs of being
one. Allow me, My dear Sir! thus publicly to ac-
knowlege your kindnefs, and the pleaſure I take on all
occafions in fubfcribing myſelf
Yours moft faithfully,
Friday, June 27, 18oc.
SAMUEL WHYTE.
To SAMUEL WHYTE, Efq. &c.
DEAR SIR!
I LATELY read with pleaſure, and I hope fome pro-
fit, your Mifcellany. Your Remarks are acute; the
original Letters ineftimable, and the Extracts curious
and interefting.
As a work of ſo much merit muſt ere long reach ano-
ther edition, permit me to remind you, that the ftory of
the Myſterious Mother is fully detailed in the 9th vol.
of the Spectator, No. 688, Dublin, 1748. It is alfo
told by Bandello, who lays the fcene at Navarre. See
Note (y) p. 272 of an
Hiftorical Memoir on Italian
Tragedy." If you have not added this imperfect work
to
*Member of the Royal Irish Academy; Fellow of the Literary
and Antiquarian Society of Perth; Honorary Member of the Etruf
can Academy of Cortona, and Member of the Arcadian Academy
of Rome. In the year 1690, when that learned Society took the
name by which it has fince been and is now diſtinguiſhed, "it
was refolved, that each member thould affume a paſtoral name;";
agreeable to this fundamental principle of the inftitution the paf-
toral name decreed by the Society to Mr. Walker on his admiſſion,
was EU BANTE TIRINZIO. [See bis Hiftorical Memoir on Italien
Tragedy, wherein is given a particular and very interesting account
of that Inftitution, p. 208, paſſim. EUBANTE]
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
223
to your collection, and would wish to confult it, you
may, I believe, find a copy either in the Dublin, or the
College Library.
If you do not mean to reprint your Mifcellany very
foon, perhaps you would think it right to print a fup-
plementary fheet, containing the number in the Specta-
tor, which I have pointed out, and a reference to the
Tale of Bandello, You are, I believe, the first who has
attempted to trace this ftory to its fource.
You'll obferve in the note to which I have directed
your attention, that in line 14' was' ſhould have been
were;' it was certainly fo written; but this is one of
the numerous typographical errors occafioned by my dif-
tance from the prefs. I envy you the correctneſs of
your work. The literary character of an author often
fuffers from the car eleffneſs of his printer.
I prefume you know that we are indebted to the Leo-
nora of Bürger for Dr. Aikin's beautiful Tale of Arthur
and Matilda.
My charming friend, Mrs. Magan, I hope is well;
have the goodness to make my beft compliments accept-
able to her, and to Mr. E. A. Whyte, &c. and believe
me to be,
St. Valeri, Bray,
14th May, 1800.
Dear Sir! very fincerely, &c.
JOSEPH COOPER WALKER.
P. S. Mr. Ifaac Reed of London has commiffioned me
to fend him a copy of your Mifcellany: I have gotten
one, which I ſhall forward in the courfe of a few days.
PURSUANT to the intimation of my valuable and
highly eſteemed friend, I now add the ftory of the Myf-
terious Mother, from the 9th volume of the Spectator,
as it is called, p. 237 *. It is given by the conductor of
that
*The 7th edit. London printed, and Dublin reprinted by S.
Powel, 1735. It commenced Mond. Jan. 3d,1715; but whatever its
merit, it is not a genuine fequel to the admired periodical publica-
tion originally called the Spectator, the name it also goes by.
224 THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
that work, as an anſwer to a letter preceding, dated
Friday, July 11th, 1715, with a few prefatory lines by
way of introduction, running thus:-
"I know of no
better way of complying with my brother guardian's
defires, than in fetting down the following hiftory deli-
vered to us among the writings of Mr. Perkins."
<
A gentlewoman of great note, being left a widow,
• had her fon trained up in her houſe, who now being
come to an age of maturity, grew up, as in ftature, fo
in wanton defires, earneftly foliciting her chambermaid
to comply with his inclinations; fhe had the grace not
only to repel his offers, but wearied out with his wick-
ed importunities, to complain to her miftrefs, of her
young maſter's irregularities in behaviour towards her:
the mother, out of a purpoſe to reprefs this wild hu-
mour in her fon, bids the maid, out of a feeming com-
'pliance, make appointment the night following with
'hin, and that he would change beds with the maid,
and taſk the gentleman to fome purpofe. This being
• done in purſuance to her orders: The Devil tempted
the mother; and, terrible as it is to hear, inftead of
chaſtifing him, ſhe ſuffered herſelf to be embraced, and
by him conceived a daughter. Finding herfelf grow
big, weighed down by inward fhame, to hinder it from
appearing the fecretly retired to a diftant part of the
'country, and left the child there to be educated with
all care and fecrecy. In fome years the thought pro-
per to bring home the concealed infant as a kinfwoman,
and treated her like the child of a friend. The young
virgin grew up to fuch a degree of comeliness in per-
fon and behaviour, that the fon, ftill a fingle man, and
now of about one or two and thirty, fell paffionately
in love with her, and in ſhort, ignorantly married his
own daughter. They lived together very lovingly and
comfortably, and were the parents of many children.
But the mother who knew it all, had, as it were, a
• whole hell in her bofom; ftung one day more than or-
dinary with remorfe, and bitterly gnawed with the
worm of confcience, fhe flew to the learned Divine
•
C
<
who
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
225
}
who wrote this ftory, and was an eminent cafuift, for
relief, and aſked the good man's advice, whether ſhe
ſhould not put an end to that courſe of fin, by reveal-
ing the matter: the Divine was of opinion, that as
they lived innocently in their ignorance, fhe ſhould re-
'pent in fecret, and conceal the bufinefs.'
Spect. vol. 9, No. 688.
The fame ftory, probably derived from the fame fource,
appeared in a pretty large mifcellaneous octavo; Dublin
printed, A. D. 1749; preceded by an uncommoniy nu-
merous and ſplendid Lift of Subfcribers, among whom
were the Lord High Chancellor of Ireland, the Earls of
Kildare, Antrim, Beſborough, &c. feveral of the Right
Rev. Fathers of the Church, Ladies of diftinction, and
Gentlemen of first-rate talents, converfant in polite life,
not only of Ireland, but of the Sifter Kingdom. The
Rev. Dr. John Taylor of Inleworth, Middlefex, took
thirty five copies. Thus in one fhape or other it grew
into notoriety, and became a current topic of difcuffion.
Is it not then ſurpriſing and moft unaccountab.e, that a
Nobleman of Lord Orford's general information, fo con-
fpicuous in the commonwealth of Letters, fo eminently
curious in his reſearches, and fo courted by thoſe who
had the beſt opportunities of aiding his purſuits and in-
dulging his well known tafte, fhould be fo ill informed
of the matter as his Lordship appears to have been in
his diſcourſe annexed to his Tragedy, founded on a fub-
ject fo extraordinary, which he nevertheleſs conceives a
fact, and would have his readers believe fo likewife, to
which of courfe he could not be fuppofed indifferent?
The volume alluded to lies now before me.
The Note referred to in Mr. Walker's Letter runs
thus:-" Having been induced to dilate, perhaps imper-
tinently, upon the Myfterious Mother, I fhall take this
occafion
4
326
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
occafion to obſerve, that the fable upon which this ini.
mitable Tragedy is built, is minutely detailed by Ban-
dello, (Nov. 35, part ii.) who heard it related by the
Queen of Navarre to his patronefs, Goftanza Kangona e
Fregofa. Bandello's Novel is thus intituled: "Un Gen-
tiluomo Navarrefe fpota una che era fua forella e figli-
uola, non lo fapendo." This ftory alfo appears amongſt
the Tales of the Queen of Navarre; but whether it was
firft given to the public by Bandello, or by her Majeſty,
I cannot determine. Le prime tre parte delle Novelle del
Bandello, were publiſhed at Lucca 1554, and the earlieſt
edition of L'Heptameron of the Queen, mentioned by De
Bure, (Bibl. Infr. tom. ii, p. 94, Par. 1765,) is that of
Paris, 1560; but as the title-page of this edition adds
"remis en ordre par Claude Gruget," there was probably
an earlier."
Hift. Mem. on Ital. Trag. p. 272, 3. 4to Lond. 1799.
In the Monthly Review referred to, p. 157, we find a
pamphlet [Lond. Cooper, 1751,] with fome crafty local
modifications, a mere echo of the Italian ftory, deferv-
edly reprobated; but it is plain the literary inquifitors of
thofe days were ignorant of its previous exiſtence.
"As this narrative (fay thofe gentlemen) appears to
us as a piece of fiction, we fhall fay nothing more of it,
than that the ftory is laid in the time of Oliver Crom-
well, and that the publication of cafes of this fort ought
never to be encouraged, even if proved to be fact, as the
knowledge of fuch unnatural, and (happily) uncommon
crimes cannot poffibly be attended with any good confe-
quences as examples, they will probably never deter
others; but may infpire people with thoughts of fuch
practices as otherwife might never have entered their
imaginations."
Lord Orford's Myfterious Mother, the offspring of
this extravagant Tale, made its public appearance in
print, A. D. 1781, and tho' never exhibited on a London
itage, an Irish Manager took the advantage of its no-
elty for a night. The writer of the prefent article ſome
twenty
Г
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
}
227
twenty years before attempted a Tragedy on the fame
fubject; a juvenile effay, which, fcarcely finiſhed, was
committed to the flames; (v. p. 103) but this we may
conclude was not its firft appearance in that character.
This, or a ſtory nearly a-kin, had furniſhed buſineſs for
the Tragic Mufe fo early as the year 1640, if not ear-
lier. Tinctured however ftrongly with the marvelous,
the ſtory marvelou fly crept into credit, and was on all
hands induſtriouſly circulated; a decided argument of its
falfity: Calumny or imputation of guilt never wants
abettors. But to fhew the frailty of our confidence in
the retailers of fcandal, even when from their own per-
fonal knowlege they take upon them to vouch for the
facts related, we need only fum up the evidence in the
cafe before us.
The Right Honourable Dramatift mentions the ſub-
ject of his piece as a poſitive fact, which occurred in the
reign of King William, and, as by circumftances it ap-
pears, in the diocefe of Canterbury, imparted by the un-
fortunate culprit herſelf to the Archbishop, Tillotſon.
The Author of the pamphlet brought forward by the
Reviewers, afferts it to have happened in the North of
Scotland in Cromwell's time; and that He himſelf was in
habits of intimacy with the parties; fome of whofe de-
fcendants were living, near the ſcene of action, as the
Author's Grand-fon affures us, in his preface, A. D.
1751, when he committed, purſuant to his Anceſtor's
intentions, the narrative to preis.
A German Author, whole name and addition have ef-
caped me, records it as an event univerfally known to
have happened at Prague, in a family of his own parti-
cular acquaintance there; all natives of Bohemia.
The 9th volume of the Spectator gives it as an unde-
niable fact, related in the works of the Rev. Mr. Perkins,
from the guilty Mother's own mouth, who had applied to
that pious and eminent cafuift for fpiritual confolation.
Bandello, who has left the ftory written in choice Ita-
lian, deriving his knowlege of it from her Majefty of
Navarre,
328
THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER,
3
Navarre, afcribes the unfortunate rencounter to a Gen-
tleman of that Country. Bandello's account appeared
A. D. 1554.
The Queen of Navarre herſelf, in her own account of
the matter, publiſhed at Paris 1650, if not earlier, lays
the fcene of it as a true ftory in Languedoc, under the
reign of Louis XI. of France.
Biſhop Taylor in his great work called Ductor Dubi-
tantium, on the authority of Comitolus, a Roman Civi-
lian, ftates it "as a ftrange and rare cafe happening at
Venice." The Bishop's book, a thick folio, was pub-
liſhed A. D. 1659.
·
The works of Comitolus, who probably was the ori-
ginal reporter, and gives it, one would rather ſuppoſe,
as a fiction of law, I am not converfant in; but Ï´well
recollect to have heard, when a boy, a fimilar ftory told
of an Iriſh family, of confequence, in one of the pro-
vinces; with this difference, that it was his Nurſe by
whom the amorous young Spark had a Daughter, whom
it was his misfortune afterwards to take for better for
worſe; and a Gentleman well known was actually point-
ed out to me in the ſtreets of Dublin as a lineal defcen-
dant from the iffue of that incestuous connection.
Is there a Court in Europe that, under fuch circum-
ftances, would not difmifs the Bill?
Good-Friday, April 16th, 1802.
Page 215, notes, 1. 6, for quas, read quæ.
220, ditto, l. 13,.. æra,
aëra.

INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
$
LORD ORFORD, Mr. Walker correctly obſerves,* deeply
regretted the choice of his fubject, and the Reviewers are
certainly right, "the publication of cafes of this fort ought
never to be encouraged, even if proved to be fact:" But, in
tracing fuch apocryphal reports to their fource, if we can
prove them to be falſe, we are ſurely juſtified in the attempt;
for it not only affords a leffon to credulity, but in a great
meaſure deprives them of their fting. The reaſons for pro-
fcribing the Mysterious Mother, will equally affect the ſtory of
Oedipus, Phædra and Hippolitus, Caunus and Byblis, cum
multis aliis, not only to the fuppreffion of many of our mo-
dern Plays, but to the utter exclufion of Ovid, and a majo-
rity of both the Greek and Roman Poets from our Schools,
who with all their boafted excellencies, not only incorporate
vice, but fanction the commiffion of it, by the example and
practice of their Gods!! † Scraps of morality and fententious
obfervations are indeed to be picked up thinly fcattered in
their voluminous pages: Or, as was faid of the figure of
Beau Naſh between the bufts of Newton and Pope, "Wiſdom
and Wit are little feen, but Folly at full length;" and we are
to rely on the thoughtleſs inattention (in this cafe happily
characteriſtic) of youth, to preſerve their warm and fufceptible
imaginations from fucking in the poifon. Plato, himſelf
poetical, baniſhed Homer from his Republic; more juftly
upon a moral ſyſtem might Virgil be banished from our femi-
naries of Education. This is free language, and I well know
to what ftrictures I expofe myſelf with the bigots to anti-
quity in the uſe of it. Bigots to antiquity! this is not an
age of bigotry; this is the Age of Reaſon, Liberty and
Equality;' well then, not to break fquares with your pan-
cratical fraternity, truce with that pretty cynical curl of
the lip! upon the known principles of the age, I am not
bound
Hh
*Hiftorical Memoir on Italian Tragedy, 4to. p. 272. fpeaking of the
Myſterious Mother. London 1799.
+ Practice of their Gods, vide Note 1, posth.
228
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
•
bound by preſcription, and my charter to privilege of
Speech is on equality with theirs. How many petit-maitre
philofophers, affectedly fqueamish and prudifhly fevere, if in
a book of religious defcription they peradventure ſtumble
upon any word or expreffion which their depraved fancies can
torture into a meaning never meant, will reprobate it in
toto, and without benefit of clergy devote it to the pit; yet
in the fame inſtant, without turning up their nofes, can ſwallow
and very compofedly digeft, "Formofum paftor Corydon ardebat
Alexin."
Yes, Sir! but you know how that is ac-
counted for.' I know it is accounted for very lamely; in a
way that does no honour to the writer, nor credit to his
advocates, if poffible making the matter worfe: I know it is
accounted for in a way that the Ancients themſelves did not
account for it. Juvenal, as well as Martial, who from
proximity of time, as well as the advantage of local habi-
tation, had the beft opportunities of knowing, takes the
plain words in their plain meaning; in the obvious ſenſe
which the tenour of other parts of his writings does not dif
countenance. The teftimony of Juvenal is pointedly explicit :
Nam fi Virgilio puer, et tolerabile defit
Hofpitium, caderent omnes à crinibus hydri: SAT. VII. 1. 69.
Dryden, a zealous flickler for his Maſter, as he affects to
ftyle the courtly Flatterer of the Italian Ufurper, finding ap-
pearances fo ftrongly against him, has recourſe to certain
Platonic reveries, and argues the queſtion in the abſtract.*
Others, it is likewiſe urged, on vague and ſuſpicious autho-
rity have been expoſed to obloquy. The obſervation is founded
in truth; yet its conftruction depends on gratuitous analogies,
and
The life of Virgil and the effay prefixed to Dryden's tranſlation of
the paſtorals, have by many been aſcribed to his friend Wm. Walſh, Eſq.
on fomewhat better authority it appears he owed them to the friendship
ef the learned Dr. Knightly Chetwood, afterwards dean of Gloucester,
and for a length of time they were currently received as the production
of his own pen. Be that as it may, they are his by adoption, and in
all relative difquifitions, he alone appears the oftenfible party.
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
2.20
" No
and might lead to an injurious extenfion of the adage,
fmoke without fire;" it however fuggefts the propriety of
fteering clear of offence; but is of little moment in oppofi-
tion to facts. The party accufed is cited to anſwer for him-
felf, and the accufation is not on vague and fufpicious au-
thority; it refts on the evidence of his own conceffion, in his
life time given under his hand; the authenticity of which
has never been queftioned; but though thouſands befides
were involved in the fame predicament, the crimination of
thouſands is no abfolution for the individual. On the ground
of extenuation his apologiſt has indeed hit off an undeniable
matter of fact, "in the whole paftoral there is not one.
immodeft word." The fame is echoed by Dr. Trapp, with a
fcandalous tag, ill befeeming his function; hardly aware, we
ſhould ſuppoſe,how effectually the tables might be turned upon
him. There is, however, nothing very fingular in the dif-
covery; it is at beſt, but a fort of negative recommendation,
for which no great allowances are due. Downright groff-
neſs is not the dialect of adepts; for as our admirable moral
Bard pertinently obferves,
Immodeft words admit of no defence,
And want of decency is want of fenfe.
Want
*"That not an immodeſt word is in it," I have often heard afferted
of confeffedly one of the most infamous productions that ever difgraced a
London prefs. In the month of Auguft 1787, taking a turn before dinner
up the bird-cage walk, in company with the learned and ingenious
Edmund Burton, of Westminster, Efq. he directed my attention to a pale
emaciated figure, fhabbily appareled, whom he recogniſed fitting on the
middle bench, nearly oppofite the paffage at which we entered; and
with fome indignation, adverting to the pernicious publication alluded
to, told me that was the author of it; a man of birth, education and
talents, the Petronius of his day, foliciting alms! Mr. Burton, partly
at my instance, accofted him by name, and having waited till he finished.
a brief account of the wretched condition to which he was reduced; in
the bitter ebb of life, deferted by every acquaintance upon earth,
labouring under accumulated infirmities, and perifhing with want, he
threw into his hat half-a-crown, and turned from him with merited.
contempt. Petronius was Mafter of the Revels in the court of NERO.
•
230
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
Want of fenfe is conftructively folly, and folly is the cha
racteristic of fools: now though there are fools who would
paſs for wits, the converſe of the propofition is not true, there
are no wits who would paſs for fools; and though, not much
to the ornament of this miraculous age, there be ſome re-
puted rational creatures of that heterogeneous caſt," which
ftrain at a gnat and fwallow a camel," the name of Maro
has never been implicated in the charge of wanting ſenſe.
On any topic he choſe to handle, the abſence of ſuch words
as muſt have a repulfive effect, though we muſt be ſilent as
to the purity and cleanlineſs of his ideas, is perfectly com-
patible with his merited reputation for judgment; we may
farther add, from the teftimony of ancient annals and the
concurrence of commentators, his opportunities of expe-
rience. That fuch a plea fhould be thought of, and by
Dryden too, a wit of the Second Charles's diffolute reign, is
fomewhat extraordinary were the comparatively innocent
Sedleys of thoſe days fuch novices in " the prevailing, gentle
art," as to fhock the very faculties of eyes and ears; for fure
no other form of ſpeech could adequately ſuit the ſubject?
'Tis the perfection of wickedness to veil its nefarious pur-
poſes, that its deſtined victims may liften with compoſure,
and not till the poifon operates fufpect they have imbibed
it. We know by fad experience in our own times, the aſ-
faffin does not blow a trumpet in the ftreets, and flouriſh
the murderous weapon vapouring in the fun; no, he warily
keeps it enſheathed, and cloaks his black intents till the mo-
ment of deftruction. Befides, reverting to the poetical character,
his cavalier treatment of the fex on every occafion, to ſpeak
of it in the mildeft terms, is a trait peculiarly unfortunate, in
no refpect reconcilable to the notion of a laudable attach-
ment; and without the aggreffion of offenfive words, his ad-
drefs
It is a truth drawn from an attentive perufal of Virgil, and con-
firmed by the writer of his life before mentioned, "There is hardly the
character
,
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
237
dreſs is too ardently impaffioned; his aim too particularly
directed to prefume it a random fhot. The very firſt line de-
finitively lays open the purport of the Eclogue; in a ſingle
word, though not abfolutely an immodeft one, we have the
mafter-key to the whole. We find it one of his very earlieſt
productions; but to fuppofe, by fuch an avowed proſtitution
of talent, it was calculated merely to conciliate patronage
would be a complication of guilt, and the bittereft invective,
it is charitably to be hoped unwarranted, that could be ut-
tered againſt a vile and an abandoned age. That he was not
abfolutely in propria perfona criminal, is at beſt, as David Hume
might probably phraſe it, a matter of very academic faith;
his not being in his writings hoftile to the caufe, is a point
indifputable. To Ignorance we dare not impute it; in general
a thankleſs office; and whatever fophiftry may plead, which
like Belial, the prince of Sophifts, "can make the worfe appear
the better reafon," his caufe must be conflitutionally weak
that depends on the crutches of fubtle diftin&ions. Integrity
is its own beft fupport. If a man of acknowlegedparts, with
a convenient portion of moral duplicity, will affociate with
felons, connive at malpractices, and open the door to trans-
greffion, he muſt be a confident partizan who can aſcribe it
to innocence in the intention, or any hitherto known prin-
ciple of rectitude. In the impartial eye of juftice acceffaries
are deemed principals; by parity of reafoning the writer who
abets
character of one good woman to be found in his poems: he ufes the
word Mulier (woman] but once in the whole Æneid, then too by way
of contempt." The female characters introduced, he contrives to place,
often in flat contradiation to hiftory, in an infamous and defpicable light;
his very Goddeffes, a fet of mere Viragos and Demireps, make every
whit as illa figure as their prototypes of clay. His Shepherdefies too,
if not downright wantons, are mostly reprefented of a very coming
difpofition. Virgil with a princely fortune [eſtimated at eighty thouſand
pounds fterling] in his fifty-fecond year died a Bachelor.
* Moſt probably, as fome contend, the very firſt, written Æt. 27;
which is not generally reputed the age of perfect innocence, and
wholly bars the trite and frivolous excute of being a very young man.
232
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
*
abets the cauſe of vice commits his reputation to fuicide, and
by whatever winding path he, or his party, may have the ad-
drefs to creep out, he becomes amenable to the ftatutes in fuch
cafes made and provided. In the verſion of Juvenal, under
the auspices of Dryden, as the afore-cited diflich is ren-
dered, as well as in his previous account of the Paftorals,
particularizing the Alexis, he in a great meaſure relinquiſhes
his defence. In his more immediate capacity of tranflator,
neither his verfion of that paftoral, nor of the congenial
paffages, of which there occur not a few, in the third
and -fubfequent paftorals, fhew him very particularly dif
poſed to mince matters; but faithful to the text, accompany-
ing his faid mafter to the very verge of decency, without
ceremony, he proceeds in his work; a fingle inftance may fuf-
fice the oppofing counfel learned in claffic lore for the preſent.
Parcius ifla viris tamen objicienda memento.
Novimus et qui te, tanfverfa, Sc.
we need not go farther. It may be conftrued a ftroke of
country raillery; but there is fo much of horfe-play in the
joke, that under the circumftance it appears, it muſt neceffarily
be taken in carneft. Dryden's marked conftruction of the
paffage, perfectly harmonizing with the original, as he fig
nificantly points it, furniſhes an opinion that muſt be relied
upon, and a teſtimony that cannot be fufpected.
Monfieur Bayle, a fubtle ſcribe of equivocal reputation, and
fome of your modern ſcholiaſts, in their partiality to genius,
fondly perfuading themfelves virtue, and talents neceffarily
affimilate, have endeavoured to palliate what in their hearts
they could not but condemn: the argument on temporizing
principles, in the moſt favourable light, is of untoward
aſpect; depravity in a bold hand is written on the face of it ;
ſubjects were not wanting for the exercife of genius; his
election was optional, not matter of compulfion, and if
vice was not the inftigator, why was the imputation in-
curred? The French Critics efpecially, with characteriſtic
verfatility,
}
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
233
•
verfatility, by their ingenuity and cleverness vainly think-
ing to do away the ftigma, explain it in a way that to
the abomination of the crime fuperadds the turpitude of
panderiſm; for which the acknowleged excellencies of all
his other writings can fcarce make atonement. O! that,
as precedents were not wanting, fome confummate Philologer,
an Ariftarchus or a Prifcian, had happily hit upon the ex-
pedient of confounding, at leaſt in this cafe, the Gender
Mafculine, with the Common-of-two, the Doubtful or even
the Epicene; or if the Critics, with their wonted facility,
had diſcarded the leading word " ardebat," as the fpurious
inſertion of fome blundering tranſcriber, and ſubſtituted a
reading of lefs prominent and energetic import in its ftead;
it might have afforded ſcope for a metamorphofis worthy of
Ovid, and fairly put to a nonplus every objector.
Notwithſtanding all that has been ſaid, pro and con, on ſo
delicate a point, to deal impartially, and with due deference
to the characters oppofed, it remains to enquire, whether and
in what inſtances, the idea fo unworthily adopted by that
celebrated writer is adhered to or impugned in his fubfequent
productions of ſimilar deſcription? If nothing farther ap-
peared, even a rigid cenfor, in refpect to his poetical pre-
eminence, might be diſpoſed to wink at it as a fclitary offence,
and to confider it as a venial flip of youth in an unguarded
moment, or the hurry of inadvertence, from which none are
exempt: It is to be regretted, that is not the cafe. In the
fubfequent Eclogues he battens on the fame foil; more than
once indulges the propenſity, and appears not to defire or
leave room for any apology on that fcore. The paffion of
the groves is not a favourite theme of his; his moſt decided
champion acknowleges "his paftorals are full of invectives
againſt love." His. fhepherds incidentally glance at the fub-
ject, and now and then ſay a civil thing of fome ruſtic wanton
they condefcend to diftinguish ;* but that is by the by, and
* Rustic Wanton.. lafciva puella, Ecl. iii. 1. 1. 64. vide Notes 2, 3, pofth.
as
'
234
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
as it were, croffing the fcent; the game firſt ſtarted is not loft
to the view. If Damoetas has prefents for Galatea, Menalcas
has fuperior allurements in petto for Amyntas; if Phyllis find
favour in the ſtrains of Thyrfis, fhe has alſo the mortification
of finding in Lycidas a formidable rival. In the whole compaſs
of the paſtorals, the moſt natural of the paffions is but twice
taken up at any length, and then rather as a fecondary con-
fideration in compliment to others; not any affair of his own;
but always in terms of reprobation debaſed by ſome ſpurious
accompaniment at the expence of the women.* No one, it
can well be prefumed, fave haply a bird of the fame feather,
will ſeriouſly take upon him to affirm the ſecond, excluſively
confined to his own feelings, is an exception. 'Tis true in the
feventh, fmit with unuſual complaifance for the fex, he rallies
his powers, and ſports an invitation to a Mermaid;f but in a
ftrain of more cordial devotion fome dozen verfes after, without
the leaſt apparent temptation, except that it was always next
to heart, recurring to the fubject of the fecond, the felf-fame
"formofus Alexis" under the felf-fame defignation, with a
certain inkling of fuccefs, is brought again upon the tapis.
This is a clincher; yet, as if there wanted more to prove
his levelling notions of the influence of the fair, in the tenth
Eclogue, and other inftances by the way might be collected,
he mingles interefts, as muſicians with harmony ſometimes
mingle difcords, and infinuates his friend and patron Gallus
cafts a sheep's eye upon a Moor. Unity of character is ftrictly
preferved; his interlocutors are all males; not a female
figures in the ſcene: under the paſtoral names Corydon and
Menalcas, commentators admit, the author typifies himſelf,
and, if the commentators were filent, he himſelf puts it out of
doubt; but, Corydon or Menalcas, he alone appears tenacious
of his ground, and ſtanding almoſt fingle in the cauſe ſeems
every
The Women, vide Note 3. + Mermaid, Neriné Galatea, vide note poſth.
‡
Puts it out of doubt, vide Ecl. v. 1. 85. 6. 7. Ecl. ix. l. 7 paſſim.
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
233
every where without exception "the tainted wether of the
flock," nothing jealous that the cafual regards afforded to the
oppofite ſex are paid to them by others. Touching the
tender paffion, the Mantuan fwains in general can hardly be
charged with being romantically conftant, or fentimentally
nice; their eulogiums are uniformly in kind confined to
exterior allurement, and all their folicitudes, directed for the
moft part by mere animal inſtinct, centre in the indulgence of
fenfual appetite: warmed, we may ſuppoſe, by a more vertical
fun, they ſeem to have as little notion of the felicities of a
domeftic firefide as the flocks they feed upon the plains.
Corydon and Menalcas, were it directed to a proper object,
fhew undeniably the enthufiafm of paffion, and are every
where the moſt fervent in their purfuit; the poet too with
viſible predilection, pertinacious in his choice, has in all caſes
of conteft given them decidedly the advantage :
Ex illo, Corydon, Corydon eft tempore nobis.
A fentence (though not without a tincture of vanity) to which
every man of learning, difcrimination and taſte, if juſtified by
the cauſe, muſt have implicitly ſubſcribed: but how ſhall the
cauſe be juſtified? The circumftances taken in their unadorned
ſtate will not admit of it, and the pleaders are at no extraor-
dinary pains to conceal its deformity; it cannot be called love,
and the glowing metaphors in which they drefs their con-
ceptions are inadmiffible in the vocabulary of friendſhip. If to
give it figuratively be permitted, neither the main courſe
the entremets, nor the goût with which they are ſeaſoned
relifh of a platonic entertainment. It might poffibly anſwer
well enough for High-life, meaning the High-life of thoſe
times; but can ſcarcely be conceived compatible with the in-
nocence and fimplicity of Paftoral-life in any times. Granting,
as it is faid, the vice were the vice of the age, and that the
Great-ones of the age were poetically intended; the characters
Hh
are
܀
234
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
are nominally ſhepherds, and the imagery and allufions taken
from the cuſtomary haunts of that fecluded order, to paint
them with the vices of the Great, I ftill mean the Great of
thoſe days, is a violation of the coſtume; confequently, ab-
ſtracted from all perfonal application, and faving the refpect
due to ſo eminent a writer, a palpable error in judgment, and
together with the reft an infurmountable objection to his
book. This objection, it need ſcarcely be intimated, is made
with limitation to the book of paftorals, which as well as moſt
of the claffics, without carefully pruning can never be fafely
admitted in a code of education. (*) This may be all af-
cribed to an affectation of fingularity, want of judgment,
want of taſte, want of knowlege, want of what you
will; you cannot fay I never read the book.' I have not
taken up without examination the vague, unfounded delu-
fions of others, and meanly and difingenuously appropriated
them as orthodox to myſelf; it cannot be afcribed to
wilful blindneſs as well as fingularity. What I have ſaid
is the pure refult of mature confideration, and an impartial
perufal of the work; if treaſon againſt the Majeſty of Virgil,
it is not an offence againſt the laws of my country, covertly
intended to diſturb the peace and good order of fociety; it
was not written with the view of impairing the authority of
truth, for the malignant gratification of undermining the
confolations of the forrowful and afflicted; it cannot be
conftrued blafphemy.
<
To inferences drawn from fpeculations of this fort the
bufy corps of anti-canonical declaimers are abundantly partial;
in the propagation of their tenets they are equally affiduous
and expert; not only the avenues to ſcience, and all the ufual
channels of communication are dammed up with them; novels,
which in their origin were a fource of harmleſs amuſement,
are by progreſſive ſtages of deterioration, become vehicles of
* Vide note (e) pofth. p. 241.
the
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
235
the moſt illufive and pernicious opinions: To copy, verbatim,
their exaggerated pages, or make an oftentatious parade of
references, would be quite in the line of practice, ſpreading
the poiſon and advertizing, to induce unwary paffengers; we
may be fatisfied with the fpecification of a ſingle para-
graph in a work fufficiently notorious, which, how widely
ſo ever different and reprehenfible in its primary concoction,
is, mutatis mutandis, adapted to the preſent occafion.
A prudent Father, while he admires the beauties of the
Poet, ſhould be convinced, that unreſtricted, no reading more
improper could be permitted to boys; many of the paffages
can only tend to excite ideas the worſt calculated for a human
breaft; every thing is ſo infidiouſly coloured, and with apt in-
citements fo fpeciouſly enforced, the moft unprincipled liber-
tine could ſcarce with a choicer vade mecum, or exerciſe more
addreſs in the trade of feduction; too frequently has it given
the firft alarm to the fleeping paffions, and inculcated the
rudiments of the moſt deteſtable vice: yet theſe are the books
recommended for ftudy and improvement.' Are fuch things
fit for the inſpection of youth, who are to be Huſbands and
Fathers, perhaps LEGISLATORS? Are they not rather fit, by
nocturnal ſkulkers in obfcure corners and blind alleys, to be
buried in the brothels of Sodom? (5) In aid of poſitions thus
heretically featured, though, (not in the cuſtomary ſtyle of
argument truſting to confident and unqualified affertion)
they are ſupported by fair deduction and an impartial recur-
rence to facts, ſomething more in the way of elucidation
might be looked for. Befides being perfectly conformable
to ancient uſage, an opportunity fo inviting to a diſplay of
reading and recondite Erudition, “ might almoſt tempt a
grave good man to fcandal." Literary fpeculators we know
will fometimes deviate from the obvious line of rectitude, and
affume a latitude to indulge their own conceits at the ex-
pence of every thing held facred and dear. But our Readers
ઃઃ
no
236
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
no doubt will difpenfe with fuch Rhetorical fopperies, which
in this cafe could anſwer no good end either of profit or plea-
fure refpecting the writer in queftion. There is alfo a draw-
back in our way not uncommon to others; we are greatly
deftitute of materials. Whatever luminous and delectable tomes
may have been penned, or ſubtle manœuvres practiſed to diffe-
minate foreign principles, encourage ſcepticiſm, and counte-
nance vice, by the Miffioners of theſe our enlightened and li-
beral times; fome of whom, it cannot be denied, have taken
uncommon ftrides to fhew the nature and extent of their qua-
lifications, for the pious purpoſe, not uncharitably to ſpeak, of
making profelytes; the inſtruction of novices, and the gratifi-
cation, no doubt, of the initiated; thanks to the homely virtues
of our plain and fimple-minded anceſtors, the Engliſh lan-
guage affords no precedents for the encouragement of unna-
tural crimes. "We have not yet fo much the Roman in us.”
Heavy as the charge indiſputably is againſt a writer that
fo univerfally challenges admiration, it is by no means new;
it is coeval with the compofition itſelf. The light it is ac-
cordingly placed in, reſpecting its probable influence over
the riſing generations, may be ſomewhat peculiar; but this
at leaſt our dealers in new gloffes and hazardous conclu-
fions cannot well take in dudgeon; preſcription is loudly
in its favour, and their own daily exhibitions teem with
copious exemplars: one of the most ftriking appears in the
paffage alluded to, of which the texture of the preſent
ftrictures is partly a parody; in part an humble imitation;
and though the pofitions in their original ſtate, rather dog-
matically inſiſted on, may by certain fcrupulous readers be
thought wantonly, if not prophanely applied, they are never-
thelefs in their prefent form appofite; and, for the honour
of human nature would it were not fo! undeniably
conclufive.
AS
1
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
237
* AS Education is a fubject of all others the moſt
momentous to Society in general, as well as to the welfare
and happineſs of the individual, it is of all others a fubject
that from every individual demands the moſt ſerious confi-
deration. The ableft writers in moſt foreign tongues have
thought it not beneath their attention, and in our own we
have numerous treatifes for its advancement not inferior to
any; but ſtill the ſubject is far from being exhauſted. Many
abuſes, from the inveterate force of cuſtom, ftill remain; and
it is hazarding little to ſay, that moſt of the deftructive tenets
and complicated evils which prevail in theſe critical times
owe their malignancy and may be decidedly traced to that
fource. A thorough conviction of the truth of this obfer-
vation gave birth to the preceding pages, which, with all
their imperfections, will in the breaſt of candour plead the
author's apology. He has no other to offer for his intru-
fion at this perilous crifis, which he trufts will not be deemed
unfeaſonable or improper. Had he ſtood alone in the cauſe,
he would, with deference to more competent judges, have
thought himſelf juftified in the motive; but he is ſupported
by the higheſt authorities. A few paffages more immediately
pointed, he takes leave particularly to recommend to the
notice of his readers, who may not have opportunity or per-
haps inclination to confult the volumes from which they are
extracted.
It was obſerved, that if we muſt ſtudy the ancients, with
the virtues we cannot avoid in fome degree imbibing the
vices of the ancients, and notwithſtanding their mighty re-
commendations, it muſt be acknowleged, there is ſcarcely
a vice conceivable under Heaven they do not one way or
other inculcate. Juvenal, Horace, Terence, Petronius and
even the chaſte and elaborate Virgil, as has been fufficiently
fhewn, might be produced in evidence of the fact. Dryden
himfelf confeffes as much in the preface to his fables, where,
in
238
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
i
in anfwer to Collier's charge of licentiouſneſs, recanting his
own errors, he ſays, They who have written comments
on thoſe Poets [Ariftophanes and Plautus] or on Horace,
Juvenal and Martial, have explained fome vices, which
without their interpretation had been unknown to modern
timies."
The conceffion, it cannot be denied, was in a manner
forced from Dryden, who in his partiality as a tranflator would
foften the charge againſt the originals by throwing the
odium more direly upon the commentators; but the com-
mentators would not have been expofed to the attack, if the
original authors had not previously incurred cenfure, and led
them to the ground: thus, in ftriving to weaken, he not only
admits, but abfolutely enforces the accufation againſt them.
The truly-learned and judicious Dr. Watts, an experienced
guide and friend of youth, gives his fentiments more at large,
and more ingenuously fpeaks to the point. Of the work
from which the ſubſequent extract is taken, Dr. Johnſon, in
his Lives of the English Poets, gives the following charac-
ter: Dr. Johnfon was not in the habit of paying unmerited
compliments; he alſo had made education his particular
object; and his commendation, which throws great weight
into the ſcale,is deliberately given without exception or reſerve.
“Few books have been peruſed by me with greater pleaſure
than his [Dr. Watts's] Improvement of the Mind, of which
the radical principles may be found in Locke's Conduct of the
Understanding; but they are fo expanded and ramified by
Watts, as to confer on him the merit of a work in the higheſt
degree uſeful and pleafing. Whoever has the care of inſtruct-
ing others, may be charged with deficience in his duty if this
book is not recommended." [JOHNSON's Life of Dr. WATTS.]
Dr. Watts thus takes up the Subject*. Here, I think,
I have
• Improvement of the Mind. 2 Vol. London 1784, vol. Ift p. 112. . .
Do. vol. London, 1301, p. 61. paffim.
NCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
239
I have a fair occafion given me to confider that queſtion which
has been often debated in converfation, viz. Whether the
teaching a ſchool full of boys to learn Latin by the Heather
poets, as Ovid in his Epiftles, and the filly fables of his
metamorphofis; Horace, Juvenal, and Martial, in their im-
pure odes, fatires and epigrams, &c. is fo proper and agreea-
able a practice in a chriſtian country?"
"I grant the language and ſtyle of thoſe men who wrote in
their own native tongue, muſt be more pure and perfect in
ſome nice elegancies and peculiarities, than modern writers of
other nations who have imitated them; and it is owned alſo,
that the beauties of their poefy may much excel but in either
of theſe things, boys cannot be fuppofed to be much im-
proved or injured by one or the other.'
:
“It ſhall be confeffed too, that modern poets in every living
language, have brought into their works fo many words,
epithets, phraſes, and metaphors, from the heathen fables and
ftories of their gods and heroes, that in order to underſtand
thefe modern writers, it is neceffary to know a little of thofe
ancient follies but it may be anſwered, that a good die-
tionary, or fuch a book as the Pantheon, or hiſtory of thoſe
gentile deities, &c. may give fufficient information of thoſe
ftories, fo far as they are neceffary and uſeful to ſchool-boys.”
:
"I will grant yet further, that lads who are defigned to make
great ſcholars or divines, may by reading theſe Heathen poets,
be taught better to underſtand the writings of the ancient
fathers againſt the Heathen religion; and they learn here
what ridiculous fooleries the gentile nations believed as the
articles of their faith, what wretched and foul idolatries they
indulged and practifed as duties of religion, for want of the
light of divine revelation. But this perhaps may be learnt as
well either by the Pantheon, or fome other collection, as
at ſchool; or after they have left the ſchool, they may read
what
240
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
what their own inclinations lead them to, and whatſoever of
this kind may be really uſeful for them.'
>>
"But the great queſtion is, Whether all theſe advantages
which have been mentioned, will compenfate for the long
months and years that are waſted among their incredible and
trifling romances, their falſe and ſhameful ſtories of the gods
and goddeffes and their amours, and the lewd heroes and
vicious poets of the Heathen world? Can theſe idle and ridi-
culous tales be of any real and folid advantage in human life ?
Do they not too often defile the mind with vain, mifchievous
and impure ideas? Do they not ftick long upon the fancy,
and leave an unhappy influence upon youth? Do they not
tincture the imagination with folly and vice very early, and
prevent it from all that is good and holy?"
Cc
Upon the whole furvey of things it is my opinion, that for
almoſt all boys who learn this tongue, it would be much faſer
to be taught Latin poefy (as foon and as far as they can need
it) from thoſe excellent tranflations of David's pfalms, which
are given us by Buchanan in the various meaſures of Horace;
and the lower claffes had better read Dr. Johnston's tranflation
of theſe pfalms, another elegant writer of the Scots nation, in-
ftead of Ovid's epiftles; for he has turned the fame pfalms
perhaps with greater elegancy into elegiac verfe, whereof the
learned W. Benſon, Eſq. has lately publiſhed a noble edition,
and I hear that theſe pfalms are honoured with an increaſing
ufe in the ſchools of Holland and Scotland. A ftanza, or a
couplet of theſe writers would now and then ſtick upon the
minds of youth, and would furnish them infinitely better with
pious and moral thoughts, and do fomething towards making
them good men and Chriftians."
"A little book collected from the pfalms of both thefe tranf-
lators, Buchanan and Johnſton, and a few other Chriſtian
poets,
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
241
}
poets, would be of excellent ufe for fchools to begin their
inftructions in Latin poefy; and I am well affured this would
be richly fufficient for all thoſe in lower rank, who never
defign a learned profeffion, and yet cuſtom has fooliſhly bound
them to learn that language."
"But left it ſhould be thought hard to caft Horace and Virgil,
Ovid and Juvenal entirely out of the ſchools, I add, if here
and there a few lyric odes, or pieces of fatires, or fome
cpiſodes of heroic verfe, with here and there an epigram of
Martial, all which fhall be clear and pure from the ftains of
vice and impiety, and which may infpire the mind with noble
fentiments, fire the fancy with bright and warm ideas, or
teach leſſons of morality and prudence, were choſen out of
thoſe ancient Roman writers for the uſe of the ſchools, and
were collected and printed in one moderate volume, or two
at the moſt, it would be abundantly fufficient proviſion out
of the Roman poets for the inſtruction of boys in all that is
neceffary in that age of life." (e)
"Surely Juvenal himſelf would not have the face to vindicate
the maſters who teach boys his 6th fatire, and many para-
graphs of feveral others, when he himſelf has charged us,
Nil di&ta fadum, vifuque hæc limina tangat
Intra que puer est.
Suffer no lewdneſs, nor indecent fpeech,
Sat. 14.
The apartment of the tender youth to reach.” DRYDEN.
(e) A publication of a few of the Claffics for the ufe of Schools, omit-
ting the licentious and objectionable paffages with which they abound,
has been partially attempted; but has not met with the attention and en-
couragement ſuch a laudable and highly-requifite undertaking deſerved;
which, amidſt the general outcry and rage for reform, is a caſe truly
paradoxical; for in this there could be no apprehenſion of danger from
innovation, and it muſt be attended with ſignal advantage.
I i
The
244
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
1
The fame excellent Author likewife farther advifes.
"Have a care of fuddenly determining any one question on
which the determination of any kindred or parallel cafes will
eaſily or naturally follow. Take heed of receiving any
wrong turn in your early judgment of things; be watchful,
as far as poffible, against any falfe bias which may be given
to the underſtanding, eſpecially in younger years.
The
indulgence of fome one filly opinion, or the giving credit
to one fooliſh fable, lays the mind open to be impofed upon
by many The ancient Romans were taught to believe, that
Romulus and Remus the founders of their ſtate and empire,
were expoſed in the woods and nurfed by a Wolf: this ftory
prepared their minds for the reception of any tales of the
like nature relating to other countries. Trogus Pompeius
would enforce the belief, that one of the antient kings of
Spain was alfo nurfed and fuckled by a Hart, from the fable
of Romulus and Remus. It was by the fame influence they
learned to give up their hopes and fears to omens and footh-
faying, when they were once perfuaded that the greatneſs of
their empire and the glory of Romulus their founder, were
predicted by the happy omen of twelve Vultures appearing
to him when he fought where to build the city: They
readily received all the following legends of prodigies, augu-
ries, and prognoftics, for many ages together, with which
Livy has furniſhed his huge hiſtory."
"So the child who is once taught to believe any one occur-
rence to be a good or evil omen, or any day of the month
or week to be lucky or unlucky, hath a wide inroad made on
the foundneſs of his understanding in the following judg-
ments of his life; he lies ever open to all the filly impreffions
and idle tales of nurſes, and imbibes many a fooliſh ſtory
with greediness, which he muft unlearn again if ever he
become acquainted with truth and wiſdom."
"I confefs
INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS.
243
"I confefs where an author fets up himfelf to ridicule
divine writers and things facred, and yet affumes an air of
fovereignty and dictatorship, to exalt and almoſt deify all
the Pagan ancients, and caft his fcorn upon all the moderns,
eſpecially if they do but favour of miracles and the goſpel,
it is fit the admirers of this author fhould know that Nature
and thefe Ancients are not the fame, though fome writers
always unite them. Reaſon and Nature never made theſe
ancient Heathens their ſtandard, either of art or genius, of
writing or heroifm. Sir Richard Steele in his little effay,
called The Chriftian Hero, has fhewn our Saviour and
St. Paul in a more glorious and tranfcendent light, than
a Virgil or a Homer could do for their Achilles, Ulyffes, or
Æneas; and I am perfuaded if Mofes and David had not
been infpired writers, thefe very men would have ranked
them at leaſt with an Herodotus and Horace, if not given
them the fuperior place."
NOTE S.
(1) PRACTICE of their Gods... Jupiter the fupreme God of the
Heathens, or in other words as they call him "The Father of Gods
and Men," though fet forth by Hiftorians as the wifeft of Princes, is de-
fcribed by his Worshippers as infamous for his Vices. He was the
offspring of incest, and, in the ſtyle of his progenitors, reputed "to live
in the rank fweat of an incestuous bed:" when he came into Power,
which he attained in defiance of order, and polluted with a parent's
Blood, he gave a looſe to all manner of exceffes. He was a Ufurper, a
Tyrant, and a Debauchee, in every fenfe hoftile to Virtue. His own
Kindred,
NOTE S.
Kindred, the nearest in degree, "could not efcane him who in their
turn, Seducers and Proſtitutes, became his rivals and requited him in
kind. Some eight or ten crowned Heads are faid to have worn on their
imperial Frontlets the Infignia of his amorous Triumphs, and of Mefde-
moiſelles Royal fome twice fifteen, celeftial and terrestrial, tricked of their
Honour, bore witneſs of his Prowefs. Heaven was crowded with his
intriguing Progeny; all in the family way. The Rape of Ganymede
was another of his exemplary Exploits. Nor among the reft of his Divine
attributes must his cannibaliſm be forgotten. Through a capricio of
jealoufy, or fome extraordinary motives of prudence, (on the Olympic
Scheme cauſe and effect do not neceffarily correfpond) he devoured
his first wife Metis in her pregnancy, and thence, wonderful to tell,
becoming himself pregnant, brought forth a bouncing full-grown lafs,
"armed at all points exacly cap-a-pee." Pretty legerdemain
work this, and quite congenial with the Pagan notions of Heaven! ...
Heaven! confined to the fummit of a blue Hill. Rifun teneatis?...
On another occafion the fiery fteeds of the fun have the reins thrown
looſe upon their necks, and the world is left to grope its way in the dark,
while their driver, the grand master of the Illuminati, with the Rays
about his head, like a lord chancellor in his full-bottomed wig, is fcamp-
ering over hedge and ditch after a pettycoat, one Daphne a water-
man's daughter, who in the long-run by a pitiful pun (as the fashion
was) ftands converted into a laurel. Such were the Freaks of the Gods,
as Pope fummarily characterizes them :
• •
Gods changeful, partial, paffionate, unjust,
Whofe attributes were rage, revenge and luft.
1
Infpe&t that heap of contradictions and abfurdities the Pantheon, from
Jupiter the Bull to the wittol Momus, is there one of them, who to
ſerve his turn is not a profligate, a thief, a liar, a drunkard, a buf-
foon, a cuckold or a cuckold-maker? The ladies of the Olympic Coterie
were not a whit lefs frolickfome than their high mightineffes, the lords.
Would any three of the most unfortunate nymphs that ever patroled
the Strand from nightfal 'till daybreak, expofe themfelves on Banstead
Downs to a mutton feeder, as three of those right condefcending Celeſtials
are deſcribed to have expofed themſelves on Mount Ida? and to make it
more moving, the Goddefs of Wifdom, in puris naturalibus, muft he
of the party. The Goddels of Chaftity herfelf, though not enrolled on
this fpirited occafion, we find defcending from her altitudes, and now and
then folacing herfelf with a nap in the arms of Endymion, upon whom
fhe fathered no leſs than fifty daughters and a fon, befdes occafional
favours between whiles bestowed on another woodland cavalier under the
inviting
NOTE S.
Inviting figure of a Ram; fit companion for the gallant of her Cretan
Majeſty, that ſo conſpicuouſly ſhines in Virgil's fixth Bucolic!
Such ſcenes meretriciously wrought up, and difplayed in all the
glare and impofing colours of Pocfy, are likely to produce bleſſed
effects to be ſure. • Ay! but theſe are all poetical fictions! Ay?
but fictions, and miferable charicatures as they are, it was veritably
the Creed of the Day. Boys, who are fuperficial creatures, look only
to the letter, the worst fhoots generally ftriking deepest, and the
inadequate notions of an over-ruling Power, fuch puerile, groís and con-
temptible traſh is calculated to inſpire, will be indelibly impreſſed,
fraught with all its deleterious effects, long ere the latent Myſteries
pretended, can decently, if ever to any falutary end, be developed. The
Greeks and Romans with all their vaunted Intelligence muſt have been
miferable Empirics in Theurgy, to exhibit their fraudulent noftrums in
fuch contaminated and fufpicious vehicles. . It was obſerved by a Gen-
tleman converfing on the ſubject, " If we would have the Learning of the
Ancients, we must risk the contagion of the vices of the Ancients. And,
rejoined another, without prejudice it may be asked, Is there a Vice con-
ceivable under Heaven they do not teach ?" a confolatory hearing for a
fenfible and difcreet Parent anxious for the welfare and happineſs of his
offspring... Are there not bad books in Engliſh? no doubt there are bad
books in English; what then? They are not indiſcriminately cried up as
ſyſtems of morality; they are not adopted in our ſchools.
(2) It is a queſtion if this Eclogue [111.] in point of morality be
not, to all intents and purpoſes, as ill featured as the fecond; great
pains have been taken to obviate and explain away the objections to
the Alexis; but by what powers of ratiocination ſhall we get rid
of, "meus ignis Amyntas"? Two poetical Shepherds contend in
alternate ftrains, as ftill customary with the Improvifatori in Tuſcany
especially; Damætas, like most of his Mantuan compeers, a volatile in-
conftant Swain, takes occañon to defcant on the ſubject of his amours;
his opponent Menalcas, a fomewhat more fober and perfevering
Genius, anfwers, as the law of conteft requires, confonantly to the
tenour of the former. The ftriking contrast between the objects of
purfuit conftitutes a difference that by no construction in modern ufage
can be reconciled or miſtaken. . . .
(3) In the eight Eclogue, we alfo find two Shepherds, Damon and
Alphefibous, contending or amuſing themſelves in Song. The Critics
tell us, that one of them, Alphefibæus, perfonates an Enchantress,
a convenient Salvo; but of that we are to learn; Hiftory throws no
light upon the ſubject, and the context affords no clue to the diſcovery.
In
NOTE S.
In the fecond Idyllium of Theocritus, of which this is in part an imita.
tion, Simæthea, an injured female, has recourſe to magic in vindication
of her wrongs, of which the gives an affecting detail; and the whole
without mixture or confufion of intereits is confined to the individual.
The Latin is a divided bufinefs; the Dramatis Perfonæ both of the har-
dier fex; in both refpects a deviation from the original, which can hardly
be fuppofed unintentional: Virgil is not accuſed of speaking to no purpoſe.
Damon's Song turns upon an affair of Jeaioufy: Nifa, a rural coquette, is
repreſented as having jilted her Swain; Damon on his part, runs out
into bitter invectives, and it is agreed, nem. con. the affair is entirely his
own. Damon ſpeaks all along for himſelf in the firſt perfon; in like
manner throughout the reſpondent Alphefibœus, and not as purveyor, re-
preſentative or proxy of another. His ftrain is ufhered in and emphatically
marked to notice by the folemnity of a previous invocation. There is
no Enchantress directly or indirectly concerned, alluded to or implied;
the circumſtance of Daphnis, a male creature, is clearly of a piece with
the picture given of the times, and from that of Amaryllis, a fervant maid,
having, as in other inftances, charge of matters within doors, a bel-
dam behind the curtain is not neceffarily inferred. Singer and Conjurer,
fo far as the illufion goes, are manifeftly one and the fame, and the whole,
for aught that to the contrary appears, has reiation merely to his own
vile and abominable practices, agreeable to his character intimated in
another place. Saltantes Satyros imitabitur Alphefibus." Ecl. 5. 1.73.
The Satyrs, "Lafcivi Satyri," called alſo in advanced years, Sileni and
Incubi, were a fort of Demigods, notorious for their beftial Incontinence.
Silenus, in the fixth Eclogue, the difgufting quinteffence and chief of the
obícene crew, a Deity forfooth, in antro jacentem," like a fwine in
his ftye, is caught wallowing in the effects of laft night's debauch.
Chromis and Mnafylus, two of his fraggling kinfmen, (may be a
little mellow or fo) opportunely coming upon him "Inflatum in hefterno
venas, ut femper, laccho," bind him (a God!) neck and heels, and inſiſt
upon his promife of a fong. The nymph Ægle, likewife of the order of
Half-Deities, a first-rate toaſt, juft in the nick drops unexpectedly upon
them, and officiously lending a hand coquettes it to the life. Father
Silenus, half raising his drowſy eyelids, recognifes the wanton young
fparks, and joining in the laugh, bids them loofe him and the fong is at
their fervice. "Carmina vobis" quoth the muzzy old goat, tipping
them the wink. In the interim to pacify Mifs, fufpecting her, it
feems, to have other crotchets in her head, and no great paffion for
Linging, he gallantly adds, "Huic aliud Mercedis erit ;". in Dryden's
expreffive language, "The nymph fhall be rewarded in her way." A
pretty modeft hint for a cavalier of his occupation, and pretty compre-
henſive withal; at once letting us into the young Flirt's character,
•
which
!
NOTE S.
which indeed might be partly gueffed from her company, (a) and giving
us to understand that he, his elevated reverence, had his wits about
him, and ſtill a colt's tooth in his head; or perhaps he thought the
infenfibility of the white Bull, which engroffes more than a due portion
of his fong, might be too much for her delicate nerves. Figures, mere
figures of fpeech, Mynheer Van Critic tells you; the whole in the genuine
ſpirit of paſtoral fimplicity, purely allegorical, upon the fublime principles
of the Epicurean fyftem, which it beautifully illuftrates: what your literat
and vulgar dunces (miſed by appearances) might conftrue sheer drun-
kenneſs, is to be taken in a myftical fenfe, and means infpiration. Bravo!
old Square Toes! cries my young mafter in his cups, realizing the figure
juſt the thing," for Wine infpires us and fires us," wheu off he reels
in
(a) The two frolick fome Genii, principal actors in the farce, are de-
fcribed as in habits of intimacy with the jolly old minstrel, whom as
Beings of his own order, differing only in years, he jocularly calls
"Pueri" [boys or lads.] The accomplished Egle too, who takes fo active
a part with them, and cuts fo pretty a figure in the groupe, is above the
Fank of mere mortals. Clearly then, from whatever fource the poet
derived his materials, upon the principle of analogy, thofe with whom
a nymph of her diftinction mixes with fuch eafy familiarity, must be fup-
pofed of fuitable condition, fatyrs at leaſt, and not as fome will needs have
them, fhepherds of inferior degree. Their timidity when they caught
the old foaker napping proves nothing to the contrary. Divinities of
their ftamp, with no fmall portion of human alioy in their compofition,
would be apt enough to betray fymptoms of daftardlinefs, like their fellow
raps of mere mortal coinage, however they ftrive to brazen it out, when
tempted to try experiments on their fuperiors. At all events what buf-
nefs had Mademoiselle Egle, "Egle Naidum pulcherrima," to thru
herfelf into fuch an awkward fituation. Of the goatifh fraternity fe
could not be ignorant "that it was dangerous even in open daylight for
any of womankind to fall in their way,” and caves at beſt are not the mos
hallowed aſylums for beauty. Witnefs the congrefs of Infelix Dido and
pius Æneas: yet this by the way however irreconcileable to the cons~
mon notions of the practice of piety, like many other finifter exploits on
the heroic lift, is refolved into the will of the Gods, who are reprefented
in a bafe confpiracy to ruin an innocent and deferving woman. Mother
Venus turns Abigail on the occasion, and in the true fpirit of her voca
tion proves a notable flapper. The Father of the Gods connives at it,
and the beloved fpoufe of Jove, in the character of procurefs, not to use
a more vulgar term, it must be owned, acquits herſelf to a miracle. All
this to compliment the Romans and account for their enmity to the
Carthagenians, who certainly by every circumftance of the relation had
the most reafon to complain of their hypocritical gueft, and hold in de
teftation the perfidious Romans, his pretended defcendants.
NOTE S.
in queft of an Ægle, commodiouſly affociated in the train of Bacchus,
another of the worſhipful corps of Celeſtials. Precious Examples for
youth. .. And theſe are the delicate and inſtructive fictions of your Greeks
and Romans; and theſe are the Writers fet in competition with Mofes
and the Prophets !!!
(4) A Mermaid, p. 232... Nerean Galatea, or Galatea fprung from
Nereus, a Sea God. Ecl. vii.1. 37, Neriné Galatea. "Here as in the third
Eclogue," obferves one of our most elaborate annotators the
Bucolics, "the Shepherds paſs immediately from the Invocation of their
Deities to the mention of their Loves." Sweet Loves truly! Amyntas,
(another Alexis or ſecond Ganymede) being one. No objection on that
fcore, for fpecial Reaſons, is applicable to Neriné Galatea; the fame
Galatea, mentioned Ecl. ix. 1. 39. Mythologic Daughter of Nereus and Doris;
the attributes in both are defcriptively similar; fimilar in both caſes is
the mode of compellation, Ecl. vii. «Neriné Galatea-venito." Ecl. ix,
* Huc ades, O Galatea." In the former as in the latter Inſtance,
a creature of the Imagination without intereft in the heart, epifodi-
cally introduced to diversify the ftrain, and a fecond time brought
forward to remove any impreffion of her being a real miſtreſs, which
might hurt the tender feelings of "formofus Alexis." It has been by the
apologifts of this admired writer fagaciouſly obſerved that pius, [anglicé
pious] is a favourite Epithct of his; but it is no where to be met with
in the Paftorals; the application of it in the commencement of the
beautiful Epiſode of Nifus and Euryalus Æn. v. 1. 296." Nifus, amore pio
pueri," is the more remarkable. Amor has not uncommonly with the
Poets a vicious acceptation; it was the more neceſſary in particular cafes
to mark its deſignation; here then by "Amore pio” is to be underſtood
legitimate affection, as that of a parent for a child, in contradiſtinction to
that ſpurious Amor, the offspring of Erebus and Nox, with which his
carlier productions are manifeftly fullied and disgraced. It is that Amor
pius, that facred Friendship, the theme of all fucceeding ages, which
prompted the heroic youths to lay down their lives for each other,
that ftamps their affecting ſtory with fterling diftin&tion. It is alſo
worthy of remark, Nifus and Euryalus were Trojans, born in Troy; not
emafculated Romans, in degenerate Mantua or Rome.
(5) Sodom and Gomorrah, two neighbouring cities of the Pentapolis,
in feveral marked particulars eventually prototypes of Mantua and Cre-
mona, as Poets and their commentators ufually characterize them.
"Mantua, væ miferæ nimium vicina Cremonæ!" whatever was the
fate of the latter, the two former, we know, verily had their reward.
Thoſe who fuperciliously controvert other authority may confult Jofephus
de Bello, 1. 5. c. 5. Strabo Geograph. I. 15. and feveral other writers
of note, who examined with their own eyes the ftill remaining evidences
of the flagrant catastrophe of thofe polluted cities.
THE MERCHANT'S TALE.*
cr
AN affair having occurred in the box-room of the theatre
royal, on Monday evening laft, in confequence of an unpro-
voked attack on my perfon; and a malicious mifrepreſentation
of that affair having appeared in fome public papers, I feel my-
felf impelled, however reluctantly, to trefpafs on the public
attention, by a fimple narrative of facts.-I am equally ftimu-
lated to this by what I conceive a proper refpe&t for the rank
of a citizen, which, in a political point of view, I do not
confider the object of infult from any profeffion, however
diftinguiſhed by the King's commiffion, fupported by the
people for their PROTECTION, and not for their DESTRUCTION.
"On Monday, the 21st of December, I went with two friends
to the box-room of the theatre-royal, and paid for my admif-
fion; we were ſhown by the box-keeper, into a box, in which
were three gentlemen, two of them in regimentals, and three
ladies. One of the gentlemen told us, the box was engaged to
him and his party, to which he was politely anfwered, that,
the moment his company came, we would withdraw, with
which he appeared fatisfied.-Soon after came a third officer,
and one of the other gentlemen went out. After fitting fome
time, the laſt mentioned officer went out; and after the play,
my two friends alfo retired to another part of the theatre.
The officer foon after returned, and fat himfelf down by me
in a manner fo abrupt as to push me backward off the feat,
which I conceived to be an accident, and therefore did not refent
it, tho' the rudeness of the gentleman aftonifhed me much,
as he did not offer any apology. My two friends returned
before the farce began. On entering the box, by accident, the
flap of the feat fell againſt the officer, for which an imme-
diate apology was offered; which, the officer not regarding,
thought proper to fay, we were troubleſome, and that he did
not know what buſineſs we had there-fharp words enfued-
the diſpute however fubfided, and civility feemed to be per-
fectly restored.
"A few minutes before the farce ended, the officer who had
been ſo very rude went out:-my friends and I, when the
amufement concluded, were retiring peaceably through the
G
By way of Introduction - ... taken from the Morning Paper.
box-
[ 42 ]
box-room.-We there faw fix or ſeven officers ſtanding toge-
ther;-one of them, pointing to me, faid, That is he;'
upon which the officer who had diſtinguiſhed himſelf by his
rudeneſs in the box, feized me by the collar, and, with the moſt
abufive language, threatened to break my bones.
One of my
friends remonstrated on the impropriety of fuch expreffions,
and offered to give him my addrefs, which the other rejected
with more fcurrility of language, and then puſhed the pum-
mel of his fword with great violence in my eye. A fcuffle
enfued, and I made the beſt defence I was able with a ſtick
which I fortunately happened to have in my hand. The other
officers joined in the attack, threatening inſtant death, which
I have every reaſon to apprehend would have been the con-
fequence, (FOR THEY DREW THEIR SWORDS) had it not been
for the interference of fome gentlemen prefent, whofe intre-
pidity broke into the circle in which they had me encompaffed,
and prevented any fatality which might have been intended.
"I have been moſt unmeritedly traduced, and expreffions
alledged to have been applied by me to the ladies in the
box, (of which I truſt I am incapable) which would have
difgraced the meanest of mankind; and which, if really
ufed, muſt have drawn forth the inftant refentment of the
two officers, under whofe immediate protection thofe ladies
were-but thefe gentlemen thought proper not only to fit
filent during the altercation in the box, but to take no part
in the affray which enfued.
I am
"Of the foregoing facts I have numerous refpe&table wit-
neffes, many of whom were before total ſtrangers to me.-I
am not diſpoſed to enter into newſpaper contefts, or abuſive re-
crimination.-This is the first and laſt time I fhall take notice
of any anonymous publications; having reforted to the laws
of the country, from which, though a ſtranger (being a citizen
of London) I have full confidence in meeting redrefs.
alfo, proud to ſay, that I am now a citizen of the metro-
polis of Ireland, and I truft never to be found fhrinking from
the duties I owe to that character; and I feel that I fhould
wrong the juftice of my caufe, if I had not an honeft confi-
dence in the candour, impartiality, and fupport of my fellow
citizens.
No. 129, Abbey-ſtreet,
Dec. 26, 1789.
"MICHAEL WORTH."
THE
RECREANT KNIGHTS DISCOMFITED,
AN HEROI-SERIO-COMIC
BALLAD,
CONTAINING A FAITHFUL RELATION OF A STRANGE AND
TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER BETWEEN NINE GREAT
OFFICERS AND, A PEACEFUL CITIZEN.
Nimium ne crede colori.
Virg. Ecl. 2.
GOD proſper long our noble King,
Our lives and fafeties all!
A woful fkirmish late there did
In SPRANGER'S Booth befall.
No longer be it fung or faid,
Nine taylors make a man,
Since nine fpruce Cavaliers in red
From one fmall Merchant ran.
A fray fo ftrangely ne'er begun
At opera, play or park,
From Alexander, Philip's fon, 2
To Alexander Clarke,
Za
1
The
[ 44 ]
}
The practice of the Mefs gone through,
And Faulkner's Journal read;
What could our vacant Heroes do,
Until the time of bed?
To lounge the tedious hours they went
At HEXHAM's mimic fight"; 3
But dearly fhall they all repent
The paftime of that night.
Alert they to the boxes crowd,
Of gaudy trappings vain,
J
And look, full crufty, glum and proud,
On little folks difdain.
They gabble loud, damn all they faw,
And all the houſe diſturb;
For 'gainſt ill-breeding there's no law,
And on their tongues no curb.
A Youth befide them took his place,
Of ſmall account to fee,
And, footh to fay, 'twas great difgrace,
He fhould fo near them be.
Him firft in guarded ſpeech they taunt,
Which courteous he repell'd;
Thence gathering heart they huff and vaunt,
By him with fmiles beheld.
For
[ 45 ]
For prowefs high in PLYMOUTH ſtreets
Recorded ftands their fame,
And eke their thrice renowned feats,
DEE's frighted fhores proclaim.+
Nor fhall thy meed in OST MEN'S-TOWN,5
SLIEVE-BRAZEN, be forgot,
When GEORGE, the hatter, knock'd thee down;
CORK-HILL, the fatal fpot.
Preſuming like a lordly brave,
Thou didst thy venom ſpit ;
But that could not thy bacon fave,
Which might have taught thee wit.
FITZMINION too may rue the day
With Volunteer at ftrife,
Who kick'd and cuff'd him on the quay,
For tampering with his wife.
The deeds erewhile of their compeers
I could alike unveil;
But now in pity fpare their fears;
The time fupplies my tale.
·
The prompter rang, the curtain roſe,
The actors plied their parts:
But nothing could content the Beaux,
For rancour fill'd their hearts,
Eftfoons
[ 46 ]`
Eftfoons they heard the beaten drum,
And, wonderful to fay!
Anon they felt their courage come;
But miſchief mark'd its way.
SLIEVE-BRAZEN fightly, large and ſtrong,
BELANNA's dear delight,
And CRUSKEEN-BORB of froward tongue,
But ftomach ſmall for fight;
With feven more, robuſt and tall,
Train'd Warriours from their birth,
Becauſe a ſtranger to them all,
Confpire to murder WORTH.
*
For WORTH was the young Merchant's name,
And doubly 'twas his right;
Thofe recreants prov'd it to their fhame,
When they provok'd his might.
In vengeful dudgeon forth they ftroll'd,
And rak'd the box-room fire,
Left haply, ſhould their wrath catch cold,
Their valour might expire.
With direful threatenings high in oath,
Each chieftain ſeiz'd his poſt,
And, as becomes the martial cloth,
Each feems himfelf a hoft.
1
Away,
1
[ 47 ]
Away, away, thou recklefs 'fquire!
Away, devoted groom!
Who dares oppoſe them in their ire,
Too furely tempts his doom.
Soon WORTH appear'd, the hoftile crew,
A defperate band, I trow,
With naked fwords all at him flew,
Refolv'd to lay him low.
SLIEVE-BRAZEN, like a frantic ſcold
Amidft her brawling crones,
Firſt on his collar laid faft hold,
And fwore he'd break his bones.
To give his ftern bravado weight,
He ftoutly ftamp'd the board,
And in his face he bolted ftraight
The pummel of his fword.
This was by concert fignal made
The onſet to begin,
Which on the inftant all obey'd,
And cloſely hemm'd him in.
Ah! woe is me! there's no refource,
And here thy days muft end!
For fure 'gainft fuch united force,
'Twere bootlefs to contend.
With
[ 48 ]
With oaken ftick, fcarce worth a groat,
He kept them all at bay,
And quickly to confufion brought
The authors of the fray.
SLIEVE-BRAZEN,...thwack!... a broken head! ...
In doleful plight was he!
Sir CRUSKEEN-BORB roar'd out, he's dead!
And crouch'd upon his knee.
The proftrate leader's hand he took,
Belike to breathe a vein;
But paufing.... fhot at WORTH a look,
And ſtarted up again.
'Twas then his heart-ftring Honour pinch'd,
A cord fhe feldom touch'd;
His trufty whinyard never flinch'd,
And firm the hilt he clutch'd.
Yield thee, vile caitiff! fierce he cries,
Or this decides thy fate;
Vain hope!-a chop betwixt his eyes
Confign'd him to the grate.
His harder hap I needs muſt tell,
Ye courtly blades beware!
The ruthleſs embers on him fell,
And burnt his well-dreſs'd hair!
There
[ 49 ]
There lies he as prefumption fhould;
Revenge O'BROGUS vow'd,
As near his fmouldring curls he ſtood,
Wrapt in a favoury cloud.
Such ſcreens by hands celeftial ſpread,
Might knights of old defend;
But thoſe convenient times are fled,
No Goddeſs proves his friend.
Ripe from the ftews the war to wage
O'BROGUS fought renown;
DOLL PAIRMAIN crofs'd him in his rage;
He knock'd DOLL PAIR MAIN down.
Poor DOLL fet up a hideous fquall!
O'BROGUS was fo vext!
The Belles made from him, Beaux and all,
Concluding their turn next.
But foon (pot-valiant now no more)
He wails a ftreaming fnout;
As tho' the bumpers quaff'd before
Deſerted that way out.
Two Blades in buff his place fupplied,
And hot the conteft grew;
The Youth, with juftice on his fide,
Soon cool'd their courage too.
H
Beneath
[ so ]
Beneath a lady's arm entrench'd,
One bravely tilts a poke;
But from his gripe the cheeſe-fork wrench'd,
WORTH with his fapling broke.
Behind him One, all blanch'd with fear,
Prepares a mortal thruſt;
His left hand timely gain'd his ear,
And fell'd him to the duft.
With brandiſh'd faulchion, gleaming bright,
Another brav'd the lift;
Plumb in the mark, as ſwift as light,'
WORTH darts his manly fift.
Like the chaf'd furge he ftorms his trunk ;
Down dropt the guiltlefs fteel,
And fickening fore, like gin-fwill'd punk,
He to and fro did reel.
On all around, ftand or retreat,
WORTH dealt with peerleſs ſkill,
And down he laid them at his feet,
Like facks upon the mill.
O ftain to arms! FITZMINION then,
Shock'd at the fight, did fcream;
Affert your place in beauty's ken,
And your loft fame redeem,
Had
[st]
•
3
1
Had BUCKINGHAM not quit the land,
Or WESTMORELAND appear'd,
Accounts againſt you fo to ftand,
You must be all cashier'd."
The words had ſcarce a paffage found
From out his quivering lips,
When WORTH, to face him wheeling round,
The musky Major trips.
Oh! I am hurt! he piteous cried!
My friends! be witneſs all!
But what more deeply hurts my pride,
The Merchant fees me fall.
And many were the lookers on,
Who well his drift might read;
But to redreſs him ran not one,
For all approv'd the deed.
The vanquiſh'd Knights, if 'twould avail,
I could by name record;
But that would little grace my tale:
They had their juſt reward.
Their foul defeat, of all the corps,
Eſcap'd there none to tell;
Save one, who fculk'd behind the door,
Diſcover'd by the ſmell,
1
This
[ 52 ]
}
This doughty fwordfman well, I ween,
Could wield his Knife and Fork;
A fungus, puff'd with pride and ſpleen,
Sprung from the jakes of Cork.
The ftrife near twenty minutes coft,
Ere WORTH got time to breathe;
And now in generous pity loft,
He looks on thofe beneath.
Tho' match'd againſt ſuch fearful odds,
His life and fame at ſtake;
To fee them like a heap of clods,
His very heart did ake.
Why would you fo, with grief he cried,
Expoſe a ſoldier's name?
I almoft rather would have died,
Than tarnish you with fhame.
The Girls on red-coats wont to doat,
Perceiving how they err'd,
Struck with amazement! chang'd their note,
And WORTH, fweet fouls! preferr'd.
So home he went with laurels deck'd;
His foes beftrew'd the field:
Thus Virtue's fons obtain refpect,
And courage is their ſhield.
The
|
[ 53 ]
The Nine, repriev'd for future fate,
'Gainft WORTH fneak'd off to fwear,
And each diſplay'd his reeking pate,
Which made the Juſtice ſtare!!!
Good lack! good lack! his Worſhip cried,
Thus pride muft have a fall!
Can honour be to WORTH denied,
That fingly fac'd you all!
I'll not diftrefs the brave young Man
With warrants and fo forth;
{
Go home, and do the best you can
To make it up with WORTH.
God fave the King and Juſtice too,
And let good ſenſe increaſe,
That drefs'd in fcarlet, green or blue,
We may fee ſhows in peace.
I
EPIGRAM,
Μέγα Βιβλίον, Μέγα Κακὸν.
GREAT Books, Great Books, Sir! are great evils:
And what are Pamphlets?.... Little Devils.
}
NOTES
་
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
* IN SPRANGER's Booth.-The Theatre Royal, Crow-ſtreet,
Dublin, built by Spranger Barry, Efq.
2 From Alexander, Philip's Son,
C
This will queftionlefs be un-.
derſtood in a qualified ſenſe,
•
··
To Alexander Clarke.
purely as a poetical defignation of time, to which terms more
ftrictly chronological could not fo well be appropriated. . . .
All-legs-under Clarke was the original Reading; but, though
fupported by claffical authority, on mature deliberation, the
more ufual appellative was preferred; as it obviates mifcon-
ftructions; accords better with its correlative in the preced-
ing verfe, and affords a plaufible prefumption that, where
Alexander the Great is of the Party, there can be no rea-
fonable complaint on the footing of Company. Beſides the
an Epic
appearance of a Pun in fo ferious a compofition,
Poem forfooth!.... might juftly give offence to Readers
of a certain defcription, who mightily value themſelves on
verbal precifion and delicacy of taſte. Philologers of fuch
refinement, to ſpeak of them fuitably to their genius and
talents, have otherguefs notions of the Bagatelle than are re-
corded of one Swift, a very ſhallow fellow,'* whom poffibly
they may have heard of tho' never matriculated in his Academy,
where the ARS PUNNANDI, was a favourite ſtudy, and often
fuperfeded Smeglefius, Keckermannus, Burgerfdicius,and indeed
the whole phalanx of Logicians, for ages paft the pride and bul-
wark of the Schools. He wrote a Book too called the Draper's
Letters, a pretty tolerable performance for thoſe days, and,
fave Watſon's Almanack, the moſt popular that ever iffued
from the Irish Prefs. To his pen alfo the Critics afcribe the
Hiftory of the Yahoos, a grave and good fort of people, bitter
enemies to punning, a fcience in which that author, as all his
cotemporaries affirm, was a notable proficient, and not only
honoured it in his own practice, but encouraged the exerciſe of
it in others, infomuch that he is faid to have made it in fome
degree a point in the felection of his affociates, and particular
intimates at the Deanery; few of whom, if there be faith in
Chronicles, were remarkable for obtuſeneſs of underſtanding,
or poverty of wit.
The fame Swift was in other refpects likewiſe a promoter
He built an Hofpital, or College rather, for Profeffors
of
of arts.
*Sec Sheridan's Life of Dean Swift, 8vo. Lond. 1784, P. 449.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
55
!
of a peculiar caft, and liberally provided for its fupport by an
endowment in perpetuity, out of his own private fortune,
which, however inadequate to the urgency of the times, argues
no doubt the neceffity of the Inftitution and a very laudable
fhare of public fpirit in the founder. One of his friends,
another Alexander, not the copper-fmith,† has left a celebrated
Eſſay behind him, where thoſe whom it may concern, may
find the qualifications for admiflion fummarily compriſed in a
fingle diftich.
Some have at firſt for Wits, then Poets paſt,
Turn'd Criticks next, and prov'd plain FooLs at laſt.
What a lamentable thing it is, we every where meet with
fuch numbers of promifing Candidates!... The Rooms are full.
3 At Hexham's mimic fight.-The Battle of Hexham, a dra-
matic Picce by G. Colman, Efq. acted that memorable evening.
4 DEE's frighted fores.-The City of Cheſter ſtands on the
Banks of the River Dee, which incloſes it on the fouth and weſt.
5 Nor ball thy meed in OST MEN's Town.-Dublin, ſo called
from the Oftmen or Danes, its original inhabitants.
6 And CRUSKEEN-BORB.-Borb, in Engliſh, fierce, a fine
patronymic affix! luckily characterifing this complicated hero,
at once the Ajax and Therfites of the piece.
7 Plumb in the mark.— Mark, a technical term in the Mendozan
fchool, by which is meant the pit of the ftomach.
rences.
8 You must be all cafbier'd.-This Stanza points out the pre-
ciſe æra of the tranfaction, which happened during the in-
terregnum that took place, anno 1789, and probably has fome
fecret reference, as ufual with our author, to collateral occur-
An aftoniſhing craſh about the fame time happened
among the minor financiers in the public offices, whofe exten-
five manors, elegant villas, fuperb palaces, and fplendid domef-
tic arrangements, occafioned furmifes that all was not fairly
come by. Unfortunately our active Chief Governor had a turn
for accounts. Their books were called for... Many of thoſe pro-
vident gentry were diſplaced; fome embraced voluntary exile,
and fome, it was whiſpered, went felf-devoted to the grave.
But they were eventually revenged. The agents of peculation
beftirred
+ Alluding, it may be fuppofed, to one Alexander Woods, notorious for
uttering bad Half-pence, a fpecies of punning not at all in Swift's man-
ner, and as he was in no shape an encourager of Raps, amongst other
laudable endeavours to fupprefs them, he took occafion to preach a
Sermon from 2 Tim. ch. iv. v. 14, decidedly levelled at Woods.
~
56
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
1
beftirred themſelves; popular clamour was wrought upon :
His numerical Excellency was recalled, and that very Viceroy,
who but a few months before, on his arrival at the ſeat of
Government, ſaw the windows in every quarter illuminated,and
had his carriage drawn in triumph thro' the streets, with the
horſes taken off, by the crowding populace amidſt univerſal
acclamations, was obliged to fteal off at a back-door, and make
the beſt of his way thro' bye-lanes and alleys to fcreen him-
ſelf from outrage... One of the defaulters, whofe appointment
did not exceed 60l. annually, on being declared bankrupt,
had claims proved againſt him by private individuals to the
amount of one hundred and fixty three thouſand pounds
163,000l. !!!... ex pede Herculem. ... Who after fuch a
fpecimen can liften to grumblers making poor mouths, or tax
the good people of Dublin with incredulity?!
9'Gainft WORTH [neak'd off to fwear.-This fingular circum-
ſtance, however extraordinary, is a fact, modeftly omitted by
Mr. Worth in his narrative prefixed, and with equal modefty
and referve he touches upon other particulars, detailed in this
ballad as they really happened. He was next morning ap-
prized of their application to the Juſtice, and by advice of
his friends, as a matter of felf-defence, tendered his examina-
tions, which were admitted, and the affair is at the prefent
writing fub judice.-
-The matter has been fince determined
in the Court of King's Bench, with exemplary cofts in favour
of WORTH.

I
3
ELEGIES
AND
OTHER POEMS,
CHIEFLY FROM
THE SHAMROCK:
WITH
CORRECTIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS FROM
THE AUTHOR'S OWN MANUSCRIPT.
K k
EDITOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.
IN the Preface to the volume of WHYTE'S
POEMS lately publiſhed, having occafion to make
mention of the SHAMROCK, I was led to obſerve
that feveral poems from that collection, had re-
peatedly appeared without acknowlegement, fome
attributed to writers perfectly innocent of the fact,
ſome anonymous, and for the greater part incor
rectly copied, in different collections of a fimilar
kind printed in London. The Author wrote to fome
of the publiſhers on the ſubject, and at the fame
time was at the trouble of furniſhing them ſeverally
with lifts of errata and amendments, which they af-
fured him ſhould be carefully attended to in the fu-
ture impreffions. Their promiſes, though under
their hands, were however forgotten; the poems
have fince been republiſhed pretty much in the ſame
ſtate, and derived little or no advantage from his
remonftrances. Such being the cafe, and the
SHAMROCK now out of print, the Editor had it in
contemplation, to give a new impreffion, including
of courſe, thofe detached pieces, with corrections
Kk &
and
EDITOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.
and improvements in a more convenient form,
to which, independent of more immediate con-
fiderations, the rapid fale of the two former im-
preffions was a powerful inducement; but the de-
fign, of which the following is purely a fpecimen,
is for the prefent laid afide. Unhappily we are fallen
on evil days and evil times, as Milton had to lament
on a former occafion, by no means propitious to the
Muſes.
JUNE 12, 1801.
The firft impreffion of the SHAMROCK, or Hibernian Creffes,
confifted of fifteen hundred copies, medium quarto; the other
of five hundred copies, royal quarto.
ÉL EGY I.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1751.
FAR from the bufy cares of life,
In yonder vale O let me ſtray;
And there, retir'd from crowds, and ftrife,
To ſweet oblivion give the day!
Or, let me hie to where the vine
In wanton wreaths compleats the bower;
There fee the pearly dew-drops fhine,
And hang in tears on every flower.
As o'er the green corn-field he flies,
I'll hear the lark's enraptur'd lay;
See morn's firft bluſhes gild the ſkies;
And hail the fun's ambrofial ray.
Ye winds, be filent, while the rail
With pleafing founds the hour prolongs;
The thruſh, too, chaunts his amorous tale,
And pours his little foul in fongs.
Now,
*The ſcene of this little Poem is fuppofed to lie on the
banks of the Boyne, in view of the obelifk, erected in the
year 1736, in memory of the victory gained by king
WILLIAM III. over James II. near that place, July the
Ift, 1690.
(254)
Now, let my curious eye furvey
Yon monument of deathleſs fame,
That fhall to every age convey
Immortal WILLIAM's glorious name.
The Boyne's clear ftream, that flows faft by,
The fields, the groves array'd in green,
The diftant hills, that prop the ſky,
Compleat the beauties of the ſcene.
Sweet proſpect to a mind at eaſe,
That never felt the fting of care;
The happy funſhine of whofe days
Was never clouded by defpair.
Not even fweet morn's ambrofial ray
Brings aught of joy to make me bleft
To drive one anxious thought away;
Or chafe HER image from my breaſt :
Vain are the lark's, the thrufh's ftrains,
(Sweet balm of pain, of care, and ſtrife)
Fix'd in my foul HER form remains,
And pulls the very ftrings of life.
Can that be SHE, that ftrikes my eye,
Slow walking o'er yon flowery mead?
Swift o'er the unbending corn I'll fly,
Nor crush the cowflip's velvet head-
'Tis nothing all, but empty air-
When wilt thou ceafe, thou tyrant boy?
To plunge us deeper in defpair,
You cheat us with the hope of joy,
I'l
( 255 )
X
I'll hope no more-Deceiver, go-
Thee, and thy treacherous fmiles I curfe;
For he whofe lot is caft fo low
Is fure it never can be worfe.
EL EGY II.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1756.
THE winds are huſh'd,—and now no buſy found
Is heard along the fable-ſhrouded plains,
No foot beats hollow o'er the vaulted ground,
But through the world a penfive ftillneſs reigns:
Loft all the noiſe and hurry of the day,
A death-like filence in the ftead remains ;
Save that the nightingale, from yonder ſpray,
Pours o'er the vale her ſadly-pleaſing ſtrains :
Save that, from out the ivy-wreathed tower,
The hoarfe owl wings her folitary flight,
And, fhelter'd in the gloom of yonder bower,
Tolls the flow knell of melancholy night:
Save that the beafts, which graze on yon blue hill,
Anſwer each other, folemn, fad and flow;
Save the hoarfe chiding of the neighbour mill,
And the rough cadence of the ſtream below.
The
(256)
+
The moon, fair regent of the filver night,
With all the ſtarry glories in her train,
Wide o'er the earth extends her peerlefs light,
And ſpreads her lucid mantle to the main.
Loft in the effulgence of reflected day,
Through heaven's pure azure not a cloud is feen;
The trees all glitter in the dancing ray,
And dapper elves trip lightly o'er the green.
Sleep o'er the world her drowzy poppies ftrews,
And univerfal Nature owns her fway;
The village hind, diffolv'd in ſoft repoſe,
Forgets the labours, and the cares of day.
All Nature refts-but I no reft can know ;
For Sleep abhors the manfions of Despair;
"Swift on her downy pinions flies from woe,
"And lights on lids unfullied with a tear."
To-morrow's dawn tears all my joys away;
To-morrow's dawn ELIZA muft depart:
Yet, Reaſon, yet a little, hold thy fway,
Swell not my eye, O burſt not yet my heart!
Think not to cheat me now, as oft before,
With the vain hope that I may yet be bleft:-
O no-I never can be cheated more,
Nor ever more can my torn foul have reft!
Through time's dark womb no diftant joy I fee-
No ray of hope breaks through the cloud of care-
No hours of blifs are there referv'd for me-
'Tis fix'd-'tis paft-'tis abfolute deſpair!"
O pain
( 257 )
O pain to think!-fo generous, and fó kitid,
Joy of each eye, and every heart's defiré,
The gentleft manners, and the nobleft mind,
All female foftnefs, and all manly fire-
Yet fhe is loft!-What now can grateful prove?
All-gracious heaven, what equal can be found?
No other fair can match my widow'd love—
Eden is loft-the reft is common ground.
Rife, rife, ye winds! Blow, blow, thou furly caft!
To the loud blaſt let the wide foreft roar!
Let the fea fwell, and frown a horrid waſte!
And the big waves burft dreadful on the fhore!
What have I faid?-Alas! had I my will,
Each ruder motion of the waves fhould ceaſe;
The ſtorm ſhould reft, each furly wind be ſtill;
And every heart, if poffible, be peace.
Ye guardian powers (if any powers there are
Whoſe watchful eye o'erfees the good and fair)
Protect her ftill! O guard her from afar!
O make ELIZA your peculiar care!
If foft-ey'd innocence, devoid of art,
If modefty can pleaſe, if beauty charm,
If lovelieft manners can engage the heart,
If worth demand your care, if virtue warm,
O guard from all the dangers of the feas
The richest freight that ever veffel bore!
Let each loud wind foft fink into a breeze,
And bid the thunder of the ſtorm be o'er!
>
LI
Loft
( 258 )
Loft to all joy, though nought to me remains,
But melancholy, frenzy, and defpair;
Though, like a tender flower o'ercharg'd with rains,
My heart bends low beneath a weight of care;
Į
Still be thou blefs'd with all that heaven can fend,
'Till wearied Nature fhall her charge refign!
Lov'd in thy life, lamented in thy end,
Truth's fair reward, and virtue's prize be thine!
My prayer is heard: but, foft !--what gleam of light
Gilds yon dun tower, and dapples all the eaſt ?—
To the gray dawn, all hail!-Farewell, to night!
Here, not my forrow, but my mufe muſt reſt.
E LEG_Y_III.*
'TIS night, dead night; and o'er the plain
Darkneſs extends her ebon ray,
While wide along the gloomy fcene
Deep filence holds her folemn fway:
Throughout
*This and the following Elegy the ingenious compiler of
Elegant Extracts has introduced in his poetical volume,
(London, edit. 1790, PP. 316, 17, 18) under the title of
"Two Love Elegics" by and are the only pieces of that
valuable compilation. ... In
deſcription contained in that
;
the index to another edition of that volume after fome ex-
tracts from the poems of Cowper, we find theſe Elegies alſo
mentioned, and I prefume by a typographical blunder marked
ib. this fhould have been corrected; the Elegies were
written and in print before that admired poet les llegag
hadaline:-
( 259 )
Throughout the earth no cheerful beam
The melancholic eye furveys,
Save where the worm's fantaſtic gleam
The 'nighted traveller betrays:
The favage race (fo heaven decrees)
No longer through the foreſt rove;
All Nature refts, and not a breeze
Diſturbs the ftillneſs of the grove.
All Nature refts: in fleep's foft arms
The village fwain forgets his care;
Sleep, that the fting of forrow charms,
And heals all fadnefs, but deſpair:
Despair, alone, her power denies ;
And, when the fun withdraws his rays,
To the wild beach, diftracted, flies,
Or, cheerlefs, through the defert ftrays:
Or, to the church-yard's horrors led,
While fearful echoes burſt around,
On fome cold ftone he leans his head,
Or throws his body on the ground.
To fome fuch drear and folemn ſcene,
Some friendly power direct my way,
Where pale misfortune's haggard train,
Sad luxury! delight to ftray:
Wrapp'd in the folitary gloom,
Retir'd from life's fantaſtic crew,
Refign'd, I'll wait my final doom,
And bid the bufy world adieu.
The
( 260 )
The world has, now, no joy for me;
Nor can life now one pleaſure boaft;
Since all my eyes defir'd to fee,
My wifh, my hope, my all, is loft;
Since SHE, fo form'd to pleaſe, and blefs,
So wife, ſo innocent, ſo fair,
Whofe converſe ſweet made forrow lefs,
And brighten'd all the gloom of care,
Since SHE is loft :-Ye powers divine!
What have I done, or thought, or ſaid?
O fay! what horrid act of mine,
Has drawn this vengeance on my head?
Why should heaven favour Lycon's claim ?
Why are my heart's beft wiſhes croft?
What fairer deeds adorn his name?
What nobler merit can he boaſt?
What higher worth in him was found,
My true heart's ſervice to outweigh ?
A fenfelefs fopa dull compound
Of ſcarcely animated clay!
He drefs'd indeed, he danc'd with eafe,
And charm'd her, by repeating o'er
Unmeaning raptures in her praiſe,
That twenty fools had faid before
But I, alas! who thought all art
My paffion's force would meanly prove,
Could only boaſt an honeſt heart,
And claim'd no merit but my love..
Have
(261)
Have I not fate-Ye confcious hours,
Be witneſs-while my DAPHNE fung,
From morn to eve, with all my powers
Rapt in the enchantment of her tongue!
Ye confcious hours, that faw me ftand,
Entranc'd in wonder, and furpriſe,
In filent rapture prefs her hand,
With paffion burſting from my eyes.
Have I not lov'd?-O earth, and heaven!
Where, now, is all my youthful boaſt?
The dear exchange I hop'd was given
For flighted fame, and fortune loft!
Where, now, the joys that once were mine ?
Where all my hopes of future bliſs?
Muft I thoſe joys, thofe hopes refign?
Is all her friendſhip come to this?
Muft then each woman faithlefs prove;
And each fond lover be undone?
Are vows no more!-almighty LOVE!
The fad remembrance let me fhun!
It will not be-my honeft heart
The dear, fad image ftill retains ;
And, fpite of reafon, ſpite of art,
The dreadful memory remains.
Ye powers divine, whofe wonderous ſkill
Deep in the womb of time can ſee,
Behold, I bend me to your will,
Nor dare arraign your high decree!
Let
( 262 )
Let her be blefs'd with health, with eaſe,
With all your bounty has in ftore;
Let forrow cloud my future days,
Be DAPHNE blefs'd!-I aſk no more.
But lo! where, high in yonder eaſt,
The ſtar of morning mounts apace!
Hence let me fly the unwelcome gueft,
And bid the mufe's labour ceafe.
EL EGY IV.
WHEN, young, life's journey I began,
The glittering proſpect charm'd my eyes,
I faw along the extended plain
Joy after joy fucceffive rife:
And fame her golden trumpet blew ;
And power difplay'd her gorgeous charms;
And wealth engag'd my wandering view;
And pleaſure woo'd me to her arms:
To each, by turns, my vows I paid,
As folly led me to admire;
While fancy magnifi'd each fhade,
And hope increas'd each fond defire.
But, foon, I found 'twas all a dream,
And learn'd the fond purfuit to fhun,
Where few can reach their purpos'd aim,
And thouſands daily are undone :
And
( 263 )
A
And fame, I found, was empty air;
And wealth had terror for her gueſt;
And pleaſure's path was ftrewn with care;
And power was vanity at beft.
Tir'd of the chace, I gave it o'er ;
And, in a far fequefter'd fhade,
To contemplation's fober power
My youth's next fervices I paid.
There health and peace adorn'd the fcene;
And oft, indulgent to my prayer,
With mirthful eye, and frolic mien,
The mufe would deign to visit there:
There would ſhe oft, delighted, rove
The flower-enamell'd vale along ;
Or wander with me through the grove,
And liften to the wood-lark's fong;
Or 'mid the foreft's awful gloom,
Whilft wild amazement fill'd my eyes,
Recall paft ages from the tomb,
And bid ideal worlds arife.
Thus in the mufe's favour bleft,
One with alone my foul could frame,
And heaven beſtow'd, to crown the reſt,
A friend, and Thyrfis was his name.
For manly conftancy, and truth,
And worth, unconfcious of a ſtain,
He bloom'd, the flower of Britain's youth,
The boaft and wonder of the plain.
→
Still,
( 264 )
264)
Still with our years our friendſhip grew;
No cares did then my peace deſtroy;
Time brought new bleffings as he flew,
And every hour was wing'd with joy:
But foon the bliſsful ſcene was loft;
Soon did the fad reverfe appear;
LOVE came, like an untimely froft,
To blaft the promiſe of my year.
I faw young DAPHNE's angel-form,
(Fool that I was, I blefs'd the fmart)
And, while I gaz'd, nor thought of harm,
The dear infection feiz'd my heart:
She was at leaft in Damon's eyes-
Made up of lovelinefs, and grace;
Her heart a ſtranger to difguiſe;
Her mind as perfect as her face :
To hear her ſpeak, to ſee her move,
(Unhappy I, alas! the while)
Her voice was joy, her look was love,
And heaven was open in her ſmile!
She heard me breathe my amorous prayers,
She liften'd to the tender ftrain,
She heard my fighs, fhe faw my tears,
And feem'd, at length, to fhare my pain:
She ſaid ſhe lov'd-and I, poor youth!
(How foon, alas! can hope perfuade!)
Thought all ſhe ſaid no more than truth,
And all my love was well repaid.
In
( 265 )
In joys unknown to courts or kings,
With her I fate the live-long day,
And ſaid, and look'd fuch tender things,
As none befide could look or fay!
How foon can fortune fhift the feene,
And all our earthly bliſs deſtroy!
Care hovers round, and grief's fell train
Still treads upon the heels of joy.
My age's hope, my youth's beſt boaſt,
My foul's chief bleffing, and my pride,
In one fad moment all were loft;
And DAPHNE chang'd; and THYRSIS died.
O! who, that heard her vows ere-while,
Could dream thofe vows were infincere?
Or, who could think, that ſaw her ſmile,
Deceit could find admittance there?
Yet, fhe was falfe!-My heart will break!
Her frauds, her perjuries were fuch-
Some other tongue than mine muſt ſpeak;
I have not power to fay how much!
Ye fwains, hence warn'd, avoid the bait;
O fhun her paths! the traitreſs ſhun!
Her voice is death, her ſmile is fate,
Who hears, or fees her, is undone.
And, when death's hand fhall close my eye,
(For foon, I know, the day will come)
O! chear my ſpirit with a figh;
And grave theſe lines upon my tomb.
M m
THE
L
( 266 )
'
}
THE
EPITA P H.
CONSIGN'D to duft, beneath this ftone,
In manhood's prime, is DAMON laid;
Joylefs he liv'd, and died unknown
In bleak misfortune's barren fhade.
Lov'd by the mufe,' but lov'd in vain-
"Twas beauty drew his ruin on;
He faw young DAPHNE on the plain;
He lov'd, believ'd, and was undone :
His heart then funk beneath the ftorm,
(Sad meed of unexampled truth)
And forrow, like an envious worm,
Devour'd the bloffom of his youth.
Beneath this ſtone the youth is laid-
O greet his afhes with a tear!
May heaven with bleffings crown his ſhade,
And grant that peace he wanted here!
STANZAS,
207)
STANZAS,
ΤΟ
SINCE
WITH THE FOREGOING ELEGIES.
you permit the lowly mufe
This offering at your feet to lay,
Her flight with ardour ſhe renews,
Nor heeds the perils of the way:
If, in the poet's artlefs lays,
Late warbled in his native grove,
You find, perchance, one line to praiſe,
Or fhould one fentiment approve;
Let critics babble o'er and o'er,
Of figures falfe, and accent wrong;
Bleft in THY fmile, he aſks no more-
There must be merit in the ſong.
But, when of epitaph, and worm,
Of death, and tombs, the bard doth rave,
You'll aſk, how 'ſcap'd he from the ſtorm ?
What power hath ſnatch'd him from the grave?
The mufe the fecret will impart ;
For what avails it to diſguiſe?
A fpeck he ſaw in DAPHNE's heart,
That dimm'd the luftre of her eyes,
But had the maid THY power poffefs'd,
To bind and ſtrengthen beauty's charmi
The virtues glowing in THY breaſt;
The graces breathing in THY form :
Of
( 268 )
;
}
Of manners gentle, and fincere,
Had DAPHNE been what CLARA is,
And had misfortune's ftroke fevere
Then robb'd him of the promis'd blifs,
Too big for words, the deep diſtreſs
Had quickly ftopp'd the poet's tongue:
O'er-borne by paffion's wild excefs,
His heart had funk, unwept, unfung.
The youth, too fure, had died unknown
No lover's figh his fhade had blefs'd;
No rude memorial on his ftone
Had mark'd his afhes from the reſt.
Unless perchance, with one kind tear,
The pitying maid his fate fhould mourn,
And bid fome happier fervant's care
To throw a laurel on his urn.
EL EGY V.
TO DAMON.
No longer hope, fond youth, to hide thy pain,
No longer bluſh the ſecret to impart;
Too well I know what broken murmurs mean,
And fighs that burft half-ftifled from the heart.
Nor did I learn this ſkill by Ovid's rule;
The magic arts are to thy friend unknown:
I never ſtudy'd but in Myra's ſchool,
And only judge thy paffion by my own.
Believe
(269)
Believe me, LOVE is jealous of his power;
Confefs betimes the influence of the god:
The ftubborn feel new torments every hour;
To merit mercy we muft kifs the rod.
In vain, alas! you feek the lonely grove,
And in fad numbers to the Thames complain;
The fhade, with kindred foftnefs, fooths thy love;
Sad numbers footh, but cannot cure thy pain.
When Phabus felt (as ſtory fings) the ſmart,
By the coy beauties of his Daphne fir'd,
Not Phebus felf could profit by his art,
Though all the Nine the facred lay infpir'd.
Even fhould the maid vouchfafe to hear thy fong,
No tender feelings will its forrows raife;
For, verfe hath mourn'd imagin'd woes fo long,
She'll hear unmov'd, and, without pitying, praife.
Nor yet, proud maid, ſhould't thou refuſe thine ear
Nor are the manners of the poet rude;
Nor pours he not the fympathetic tear,
His heart by anguith, not his own, fubdu'd.
When faireft names in long oblivion rot,
(For fairest names muft yield to wafting time)
The poet's miftrefs 'fcapes the common lot,
And blooms uninjur'd in his living rhyme.
ELEGY
( 270 )
275)
ELEGY VI.
IN ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING.
THOU, whom long fince I number'd for my own,
To whoſe kind view, in life's firſt happy days,
Each young ambition of my heart was known,
For fame my ardour, and my love of eaſe.
Say, wilt thou pardon, that a while I thought
(The thought how vain!) my feelings to difguiſe?
Too well thou knew'ft, by Myra's leffons taught,
The foul's foft language, and the voice of eyes:
Thou knew'ft, perhaps, ere to myfelf 'twas known,
The impatient ſtruggling of the figh ſuppreſt;
And early faw'ft, inſtructed by thy own,
The infant paffion kindling in my breaſt.
No longer, then I'll feek to hide my pain,
No longer bluſh the fecret to impart;
The mafk, which wrong'd thy friendſhip, I diſdain ;
"And boaſt the graceful weaknefs of my heart.”
Nor fhall the jealous god with hand fevere
Afflict his vaffal, though a rebel long;
Already hath he breath'd the humble prayer,
And pour'd already the repentant fong.*
But, ah! in vain his art the poet tries,
The power of numbers he exerts in vain;
The maid regards them with unconfcious eyes,
And hears, but will not underſtand, the ſtrain.
Yet
* Repentant fong. See Reafon's Triumph, and the Recan-
tation, two poems pofth. pp. 274, 5, 6, 7. The former of
which is glanced at in the third ſtanza of the foregoing Elegy,
f
ļ
(271)
Yet hath the feen, for nothing could conceal,
The wild emotions of his labouring breaſt;
The fond attention that devour'd her tale;
The hand that trembled, when her hand it preft:
While his pleas'd ear upon her accents hung,
Oft hath fhe mark'd the involuntary figh,
Love's broken murmurs forming on his tongue,
And love's warm rapture ſtarting to his eye.
And the hath feen him whelm'd in bittereſt woe,
When her frown ſpoke ſome error unforgiven;
And the hath feen each kindling feature glow,
When her ſmile chear'd him with a gleam of heaven.
But when in verfe he breathes his amorous care,
(As if he knew not what to all is known)
His art ſhe praiſes, but neglects his prayer,
Nor deems the poet, or the verſe, her own,
Say then, O fay (for ſure thou know'ft full well
Each tender thought with happieſt ſkill to drefs)
His heart's ftrong feelings how his tongue ſhall tell!
How ſpeak-what language never can expreſs!
Teach him thoſe arts that did thy fuit commend,
When love firft prompted MYRA to be kind;
And that thofe arts may proſper, let thy friend
His love's foft advocate in MYRA find.
Then, while the happy means thy leffon fhews,
To win the maid his paffion to approve,
Then MYRA fhall recount-for MYRA knows-
What bleffings are in ftore for thoſe that love:
MYRA
( 242 )
1
MYRA fhall tell her, that from love alone
Flows the pure fpring of happinefs fincere ;
And love, with power to lovers only known,
Doubles each joy, and leffens every care:
And each warm tranfport of her confcious heart,
And each fair hope, that doth her fate attend,
With generous ardour MYRA fhall impart,
And point her own example to her friend:
And if her fenfe fhall Damon's claim approve,
And if her candour deem his vows fincere,
Her tongue fhall ſpeak the intereſt of his love,
Her gentle eloquence enforce his prayer:
And all that tendereſt pity can ſuggeſt,
And each foft argument her thought can find,
MYRA fhall urge-O! be her pleading bleft!-
To win her fair companion to be kind:
And when-for friendfhip must not pass them o'er-
She gives the frailties of his youth to fight,
O! may her pencil place-he afks no more-
Each little merit in the faireft light!
CLARA, perchance, may learn to love a heart,
(Proud though the boaft, it is an honeft pride)
Where nothing felfith ever claim'd a part ;
Which owns no purpoſe it ſhould wish to hide
Warm with the love of virtue and mankind,
At others' blifs where focial feelings glow;
And where, when forrow wrings the worthy mind,
The tear is ready for another's wor:
This
( 273 )
This praiſe the youth is fond to call his own;
No higher worth hę feeks, his claim to grace;
His hope he builds upon his love alone,
And his love ſtands on reafon's folid baſe:
No fudden blaze, the meteor of a day,
Its tranfient fplendour o'er his heart doth pour;
Kindled at virtue's fire, the ſteady ray
Shall ſhine through life, and gild it's lateſt hour,
If ſuch á heart can pleaſe, if ſuch a flame
With kindred ardour can inſpire her breaſt,
His firft ambition hath obtain'd its aim--
To heaven and fortune he commits the reſt:
But if, regardleſs of the honeft prayer,
The maid unpitying on his love ſhould frown ;
If fate's worſt ſhock the youth is doom'd to bear,
Each proſpect darken'd, and each hope o'erthrown;
Too humbly fearful of the all-ruling power
To ftrike the blow that fets the fpirit free,
Prifon'd in life, he 'll wait the appointed hour,
And patient bend him to the hard decree :
Yet ne'er (however fhifts the varying ſcene)
Shall her dear image from his mind depart;
Still fresh the lov'd idea fhall remain,
Warm with each pulfe, and woven with his heart:
Unchang'd through life, ſtill anxious for her peace,
For her to heaven his daily prayer fhall rife;
And, when kind fate fhall grant the wiſh'd releaſe,
His laft weak breath fhall blefs her as it flies:
N n
Then,
( 274 )
Then, when in earth's cold womb his limbs are laid,
(For fure her fervant's fall fhall reach her ear)
CLARA perchance will figh, and grant his fhade
The kind compaffion of a pious tear :
Yes, fhe will weep-for gentle is her breaſt-
Though his love pleas'd not, fhe will mourn his doom;
And, haply, when with flowers his grave is dreſs'd,
Her hand may plant a myrtle o'er his tomb.
This meed, at leaft, his fervice may demand;
This-and 'tis all he afks-his truth may claim:
No breathing marble o'er his duft ſhall ſtand ;
No ftoried urn fhall celebrate his name:
Enough for him, that, where his afhes lie
When kindred spirits fhall at times repair,
The profperous youth fhall caft a pitying eye;
The flighted virgin pour her forrows there:
Enough for him, that, pointing to his ftone,
The fad old man his ftory fhall relate,
Then fmite his breaft, and wish, with many a groan,
No child of his may meet fo hard a fate.
REASON'S TRIUMPH;
A CANTATA.
RECITATIVE.
BENEATH an aged oak, whoſe verdant head
Stretch'd o'er the vale its venerable fhade;
Befide a brook, whofe bofom, all ferene,
Reflected back the beauties of the ſcene,
The
( 275 )
The various flowers that on the border grew,
The grove's gay verdure, and the ſky's clear blue,
Young STREPHON lay; STREPHON the blytheft ſwain
That ever pip'd or danced upon the plain :
Qf all Love's votaries, fince old Adam's fall,
None deeper drank the honey or the gall;
But, freed at length, the chain no more can bind,
Returning REASON Opens on his mind,
New profpects dawn, new hopes his thoughts employ,
And thus he hails the birth-day of his joy.
AIR.
Sweet liberty! celeftial gueſt !
Welcome-O welcome to my breaſt!
Too long from thence by paffion driven,
Thou beft, thou nobleft gift of heaven!
No more I drag the fervile chain;
No more I figh; no more I mourn;
Fair REASON now refumes her reign;
And peace and joy again return.
RECITATIVE.
Thus while the ſhepherd fung, the feather'd throng
Catch the foft founds, and imitate his fong;
Fir'd by the theme, on trembling wings they rife,
And pour a flood of mufic through the ſkies;
All Nature fmiles; fweet echo fwells the voice;
The hills, the fountains, and the groves rejoice?
When thus the youth his fong begins again,
And pleas'd attention waits upon the ſtrain,
AIR.
Thou tyrant god, with all thy train
Of anxious fears, and wafting pain,
The
( 276 )
The reftlefs wifh, the tear, the figh,
And jealouſy with jaundiced eye,
Hence farewell!-My heart is free,
Reftor'd to peace and liberty.
Now, no more I dread thy power-
At thy fhrine no more I bow-
Hence begone!-thy reign is o'er-
Tyrant! I defy thee now.
My cares are gone; my forrows ceaſe ;
My breaft regains its wonted peace;
And joy, and hope, returning, prove
REASON is too ftrong for LOVE.
THE RECANTATION,
AN ODE.
BY LOVE too long depriv'd of reft,
(Fell tyrant of the human breaſt !)
His vaffal long, and worn with pain,
Indignant, late I ſpurn'd the chain;
In verfe, in profe, I fung and ſwore
No charms fhould e'er enflave me more,
Nor neck, nor hair, nor lip, nor eye,
Again ſhould force one tender figh.
As, taught by heaven's informing power,
From every fruit, and every flower,
That nature opens to the view,
The bee extracts the nectar-dew;
A vagrant
+
( 279 )
A vagrant thus, and free to change,
From fair to fair I vow'd to range,
And part from each, without regret,
As pleas'd and happy, as I met.
Then freedom's praiſe inſpir'd my tongue,
With freedom's praife the vallies rung,
And every night, and every day,
My heart thus pour'd the enraptur'd lay :
6
My cares are gone; my forrows ceaſe:
My breaft regains its wonted peace;
And joy, and hope, returning, prove
That reaſon is too ftrong for LOVE,
Such was my boaſt-but, ah! how vain!
How ſhort was reafon's vaunted reign!
The firm refolve I form'd ere-while
How weak, oppos'd to CLARA's fmile?
Chang'd is the ftrain-the vallies round
With freedom's praiſe no more refound g
But, every night, and every day,
My full heart pours the alter'd lay,
Offended Deity! whofe power
My rebel tongue but now forfwore,
Accept my penitence fincere,
My crime forgive, and grant my prayer!
Let not thy flave, condemn'd to mourn,
With unrequited paffion burn;
With love's foft thoughts her breaſt inſpire,
And kindle there an equal fire!
It is not beauty's gaudy flower,
(The empty triumph of an hour)
Nor
(278)
Nor practis'd wiles of female art,
That now fubdue my deſtin’d heart ;
O no!-'tis heaven, whoſe wondrous hand
A tranſcript of itſelf hath plann'd,
And to each outward grace hath join'd
Each lovelier feature of the mind.
Theſe charms fhall laft, when others fly,
When rofes fade, and lilies die;
When that dear eye's declining beam
Its living fire no more ſhall ſtream:
Bleft then, and happy in my chain,
The fong of freedom flows in vain ;
Nor reaſon's harſh reproof I fear,
For reafon's felf is paffion here.
O dearer far than wealth, or fame!
My daily thought, my nightly dream,
If yet no youth's fuccefsful art,
Sweet hope! hath touch'd thy gentle heart;
If yet no ſwain hath bleſs'd thy choice,
Indulgent hear thy Damon's voice;
From doubts, from fears, his bofom free;
And bid him live-for Love, and THEE,
THE PICTURE.
FRIEND of my youth, theſe lines receive,
And, ere my paffion you reprove,
Let my true hand attempt to give
A PICTURE of the maid I love.
But
}
( 279 )
But think not in my verſe to view
Such praiſe as verfe too oft beſtows;
A neck, that mocks the lily's hue;
Or cheeks, that ſhame the fummer rofe
Though her's be every charm of youth,
On which delighted love can dwell;
Fair though ſhe be-in honeſt truth,
Much fairer than my tongue can tell-
Yet this I pafs in filence by ;
For many are her rivals there;
And Kitty boafts as bright an eye;
And Fanny's face is full as fair.
1
Then think not mere exterior form
My heart's fond wifh could ever win ;
To me expreſſion is the charm,
Sure herald of a mind within.
Each movement of AMIRA's frame
Calls into life fome new-born grace;
While her eye's bright, yet temperate beam
Proclaims her heart's internal peace.
To paint her unexampled worth,
What colours can the poet find;
What heavenly tints, to ſhadow forth
The bright perfection of her mind?
The foul, in innocence fecure,
Meet inmate of fo far a frame?
The manners, artlefs all, and pure,
As the rock'd infant's golden dream?
The
43
( 280 )
The brow, where fenfe with ſweetneſs ſhines ?
The look, which wakes, yet checks defire,
Where dignity with freedom joins,
Where grace, and lovelineſs conſpire!
Weak tho' the tints, unfkill'd the hand,
That rudely ſketch'd th' imperfect plan
Mark you the features as they ſtand,
And then, condemn me if you can.
1
TO A YOUNG LADY,
WITH THE FOREGOING.
ASK not, fweet innocence, what grace
Sate for the PICTURE which I drew
Each ſkilful eye around can trace
The bright original in you.
The brow, where fenfe, and ſweetneſs ſhine;
• The look, which wakes, yet checks, defire;'
The form, the features all are thine;
'Tis your own image you admire.
Unconfcious of her charms, thus Eve
Lean'd o'er the margin of the flood;
Beheld a wonder in the wave,
And prais'd the beauty fhe beſtow'd.
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HINTS TO THE AGE OF REASON, in an Argument
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Literary Society, held at the Cuſtom-Houſe Coffee-Houſe,
Effex-ftreet. By a MEMBER OF THE ROTULA.
*
AN
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
ON THE
ART OF READING,
AND
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PART FIRST AND SECOND;
IN WHICH AN
INVESTIGATION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF WRITTEN
LANGUAGE IS ATTEMPTED.
By SAMUEL WHYTE,
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1
DUBLIN:
Printed by Robert Marchbank,
FOR THE EDITOR, EDWARD-ATHENRY WHYTE,
NO. 75, GRAFTON-STREET;
WHERE IT MAY BE HAD, AND OF THE BOOKSELLERS.
1800.
t
A
1
PREFACE.
THE following Introductory ESSAY on the ART OF
READING and SPEAKING in PUBLIC, is part of the
intended Publication alluded to by Mrs. SHERIDAN, in one
of that Lady's Letters, annexed to our REMARKS ON
BOSWELL, &c.* addreffed to my Father, Feb. 26th, 1761, and
was very ſoon after put to prefs; but, for what reaſon I am
not informed, it was never fince permitted to fee the light.
I lately diſcovered the whole impreffion in a clofet, tied up,
juft as it came from the Printer's; and, having carefully
peruſed it, requeſted the Author's permiffion to make it
public. He hesitated, and ſeemed not at all diſpoſed to
confent. Conceiving, in the lapſe of years, it might have
been worn out of his memory, I begged of him to read it:
then, ſays he, it will affuredly be condemned to the fnuff-
fhop; but if you really think it will be of ufe, and that
in 1799
I ſhall not be held refponſible for the errors and in-
advertencies of 1759, for in that year it was written, I
leave it to yourſelf. He was manifeftly aware of the diffi-
culties he had to encounter, and not a little diffident of his
own execution; for in the firft inftance, he fubmitted the
manuſcript
* Lately publiſhed, together with a CRITIQUE ON BURGHER'S LEONORA,
and other TRACTS, on curious and interefting fubjects.
(iv)
>
manuſcript to the examination of ſeveral of his moſt learned
and judicious friends, who, however fanguine he might ap-
pear for the honour and advantage of his profeffion, did not
damp the ardour of his purfuits with diſapprobation. One
of them particularly, in whom he moſt juſtly confided, on
returning the copy, accompanied it with the following en-
couraging Letter:
To SAMUEL WHYTE, Esq.
DEAR SIR!
HAVING ended my Remarks, which it required cloſe ex-
amination and repeated perufal, to make fo numerous, I muft
recall to your mind, a reflection, which I communicated to you
as it occurred to me, in the laſt Letter I wrote you on the
ſubject of the Elegy, and which now ftrikes me with re-
doubled force-' That neither as an Author nor a Critic
am I formed for you,'. When you acted the part of
my Critic, I eafily obferved that you were diffatisfied with
my production, becauſe you could not bring it to a perfec-
tion, that my productions would never admit of; but,
which you, as was natural, had full in your idea: and,
now as my Author, I find that while I nibble at letters,
words, phraſes and definitions, there is an infight into the
principles of language, an extent of reading and experience,
a penetration into, and obſervation of things relative to your
profeſſion, in ſhort an acquaintance with the human facul-
}
ties
}
( v v)
)
ties and difpofition, that to follow, as far as you could lead,
would be worth a thouſand fuch criticiſms. I must beg,
therefore, that hereafter you will not expofe my own little-
neſs to my view, by impofing on me a taſk, like this, to
which I am fo unequal. On every occafion within my com-
paſs, I fhall be happy to prove myſelf,
DEAR SIR,
Your fincere friend,
and humble fervant,
R N
Whether the writer of the preceding Letter was too par-
tial to his friend's performance or not, is now fubmitted to
the intelligent and candid reader, and ſhould it in fome re-
fpects fail of giving entire fatisfaction, it will at leaſt prove
the Author's affiduity, and that at fo early a period of his
life, he fpared no pains to qualify himfelf for the due dif-
charge of the important Taſk he had undertaken, that of
the Education of Youth.
A Third and Fourth Part was intended by way of Praxis
and illuftration of the Theory advanced; but the neceffity
of that, has, in a great meaſure, been fuperfeded by fubfe-
quent publications; too well known, to need any recom
mendation on the preſent occafion, from the EDITOR,
MONDAY,
MAY 5, 1800.
EDW. ATHENRY WHYTE.
CONTENTS
OF THE
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, &c.
PART P. I. Containing a General View of the prefent State of
Public Elocution-Advantages of Early Inftitution... Uſeful Purpoſes
to which a Rhetorical Education is adapted-Excellency of the Engliſh
Language... Conciſe Hiſtory of our Language... Excellency of the
Art of Reading . . . Our Errors in the Purfuit... Diſadvantages arifing
to Individuals and to Society, from our negligence, inattention and ca-
prices in the important Article of Education . . . Miſconduct and Duty of
Parents... Qualifications and Duty of Teachers... Strictures on the
Style and Method of Inſtruction Choice of Books, &c.
•
•
PART II. P. 65. Containing Practical Inftructions... Preliminary Obferva-
tions... Elocution defined . . . Previous Steps neceffary to the Attainment
of Excellence-Obfervations on the Elements of Written Language-
Different Ways of founding the fame Letters, and various Ways of re-
preſenting the fame elementary Sounds upon Paper. . . Imperfection of
Alphabets, particularly the Engliſh... Engliſh Alphabet analytically ex-
amined-Improvements neceffary, and without prejudice to the prevailing
Syſtem, for the Uſe of Learners, with deference propofed... Synopfis of
the Alphabet upon the preceding principles. . . Specimens of Ancient
Orthography... Remarks on Dipthongs, Hiatus, &c.
Extracts and Original Pieces for the Information and Improvement of
Students in the Art of Reading and Speaking in Public
Comparative View of the State of Language, refpecting Ancient and
Modern Inftitution
Four Difcourfes on the Culture of Language and Elocution
P. 129
N. B. As theſe Diſcourſes are not merely theoretical but calculated
for practice, the emphatic words are all accented; in doing which,
ib.
137
by
CONTENTS.
vii
by placing the accent over the vowel or the confonant of the
accented fyllable according to its feat, the proper pronunciation
of the words is alfo pointed out.
DISCOURSE I. Oratory eſpecially contributes to the Improvement of
Human Nature in cultivating and diſplaying all the nobler Faculties
Page
137
152
of Man
DISCOURSE II. On the Benefits which would accrue, from the Intro-
duction of the true Art of Reading, to the Female Part of the Species 147
DISCOURSE III. The Study of Elocution peculiarly calculated for the
Improvement of Converfation, Manners and Politenefs
DISCOURSE IV. The inestimable Benefits we might hope from the Powers
of Oratory, exerted in the Cauſe of Religion; a Principle, effential to
the Government of thefe Realms, by which alone the boaſted
Conſtitution of Great Britain can be preſerved from inevitable
Destruction.
On the fame Subject, from the Spectator
On Oratorial Delivery, by Mr. Addiſon
Practical Thoughts on the fame Subject, from the Spectator, &c.
On Pulpit Oratory, in three Letters, by Dr. Byrom
On Prejudice
157
173
175
-177
183
188
The prevailing Notion of the fuperior Brevity or Conciſeneſs of Latin
and Greek, compared with our Modern Engliſh, confidered andrefuted 193
Addenda
203
ERRAT A,
P. 16, 1. 31, For exemplified in eight words, read exemplified in about eight
or ten lines.
32, For eight times fo many lines, r. eight times that number.
95, 1. 24, For v ſubſtitute z.
116, 1. 36, For Íapan r. Japan.
121, Note, For Euridice, r. Eurydice.
PROSPECTUS.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR AND CLASSIC-SCHOOOL,
DUBLIN, GRAFTON-STREET, No. 75.
EDUCATION in all its moſt uſeful and ornamental branches,
Theoretical and Practical, conducted upon Academic Principles,
with a view to complete the Gentleman and Man of Buſineſs,
whether his deſtination be to the Senate, the Pulpit or the Bar;
including every requifite qualification for the Counting-houſe
and Mercantile Departments, in the moſt extenfive fenfe, with
due attention to the Culture of the intellectual Faculties and all
the Moral Virtues; the whole calculated to forward and ſupport
the great ends of Social Intercourfe, and to unite the rational
Chriftian, the good Subject, and the intelligent, uſeful and happy
Man.
Alfo, Youth boarded, and carefully provided, with all ſuitable
Accommodations, wherein Neatnefs, Health, and Mental Im-
provement, are attentively confulted, by the Author,
SAMUEL WHYTE,
And the EDITOR, his Son,
EDWARD-ATHENRY WHYTE.
N. B. The practical branches, Writing, Arithmetic and Book-
keeping, &c. indifpenfibly neceffary in every ſtation of life, are par-
ticularly attended to, by the Principals themfelves, and taught in
a fuperiour ſtyle, of which the young Students in the Claffic
Department, or intended for the Univerfity, have uniformly the
advantage; and to thoſe intended for Holy Orders, the proper
manner of delivering the Church Service is alfo pointed out and
regularly inculeated, together with every requifite article of in-
ftruction and preparation for a decent, animated and effectual dif-
charge of the feveral duties of their ſacred function.
Alſo, in addition to the daily routine of buſineſs deſcribed,
MR. E.-A. WHYTE having collected a Philofophical Apparatus
(allowed to furpafs any thing of the kind yet feen in this country)
continues to read (once a rear) a COURSE OF LECTURES,
adapted to the Capacities of Youth, which cannot fail to open
their Underflandings, and greatly contribute to, and facilitate
their progreſs in every other branch of learning:
Advantages not in any other mode of inftitution to be procured!

AN
E S
S
A Y
ON THE ART OF
REA ADING,
AND
SPEAKIN G,
IN
6
PUB
T
L I C.
HAT a general inability to read, or ſpeak, with
propriety and grace, in public, runs through the
natives of the Britiſh dominions, is acknowleged;
• it ſhews itſelf in our Senates, and Churches, on the Bench,
and at the Bar.
• That Divine Service, in general, is not performed with
that folemnity, diftinctneſs, and propriety, which the nature
of fuch fervice demands; nor difcourfes delivered from the
pulpit, with fuch powers of perfuafive or forcible elocution,
as can make them produce their intended effects, is alfo ge-
'nerally allowed.'
C
C
With theſe pointed and judicious remarks, adopted from the
Rev. Dr. Obins's letter, recommending the ftudy of English,
&c. the writer of that valuable work, entitled Britiſh Education,
B
opens
( 2 )
opens his lectures on elocution; to which he fubjoins the follow-
ing, equally pertinent, and worthy of our moſt ſerious regard.
In fhort, that good public reading, or fpeaking, is one of
the rareft qualities to be found, in a country, where reading
and ſpeaking in public are more generally uſed, than in any
other in the world; where the doing them well is a matter of
'the utmost importance to the ſtate, and to fociety; and where
promotion, or honour, to individuals, is fure to attend even a
moderate fhare of merit in thoſe points, is a truth which can-
not be denied.'
<
Notwithſtanding this ingenious authour has laboured theſe
points, for a ſeries of years, with acknowleged ability and un-
wearied application; notwithſtanding the matters, here infifted
upon, are indeed obvious and felf-evident, hitherto no percept-
ible effect has been produced in the ſtate of elocution among
us. His public exhibitions were inadequate to the end; and his
writings, Caviare to the general,' have fallen into few hands;
and fewer ſtill have been diſpoſed, or duly prepared, to ac-
company him through all the fteps of an argument, which re-
quired capacity and attention, to perceive the juftneſs and utility
of his deductions. His object, profeffedly, was the improve-
ment of his auditors, perfons of advanced years; and numerous
are they who ſtand in need of it: but mere fpeculation will go
but a little way, in cafes where early and affiduous application
is indifpenfably requifite. Great good fenfe, refolution, and
perfeverance fall not to the lot of many. Yet, great good fenfe,
refolution, and perfeverance are abfolutely neceffary to thoſe
who would fubdue the prejudices of education, and extermi-
nate early bad habits. A falfe kind of fhamefacedneſs hangs
about us, that forbids us to go a fecond time to ſchool: And,
though the proverb wifely affures us, 'Tis never too late to learn,
vanity ftands in the gap, and will not fuffer us to fubmit to the
humiliating taſk. To be fenfible of our deficiencies, is itſelf a
confiderable part of knowlege; and, to avail ourſelves of every
opportunity of improvement, is the only mean of arriving at the
fummit. But, waving all farther animadverfions on this head,
for the prefent, the attempt now in contemplation is upon a more
practical principle, calculated for the rifing generation; not,
however, without particular refpect to the advantage of mature
years, and more enlarged underſtanding.
It is of more importance to a fubject of Great Britain, to be
able to read Engliſh well, than to be able to read any other lan-
guage; yet not only fuch as are taught modern languages, but
the
( 3 )
the far greater number of thoſe who receive a learned education,
read every language they are acquainted with, better than the
language of their own country. Latin, Greek, and French *
are generally read correctly at fight; Engliſh, ſcarcely ever;
for living teſtimony of which, we need only pay a visit to
any of our univerfities. There we may find numbers, who
could pronounce Virgil and Homer throughout, with perfect
eafe, certainty and precifion, utterly incapable of reading, or
writing two fentences, with tolerable propriety, in their mother-
tongue. The reaſon is, thoſe languages are carefully ftudied,
and taught by rule; our own is picked up at random, and
neglected; and, fo very different and unfriendly are they in
all refpects to ours, that, far from being neceffary, as too im-
plicitly and generally prefumed, the labour and application
bestowed upon them is demonftrably injurious to the English,
and the chief caufe of its prefent fluctuating and undetermined
ftate, as education has been hitherto conducted.
While there are ſtrong appearances of public fpirit, in many
things, which of late years have been fet on foot among us, it is
matter of furprize, that we are not more attentive to a bufineſs
of fuch univerfal confequence. Either its ufefulneſs is not
fufficiently confidered, or the methods of arriving at it not
commonly known. Is there a meeting for bufinefs, or an af-
fembly for amuſement, where the want of this accompliſhment
is not immediately perceived? where the particularities of the
nurſery, the ſchool, or the province, are not continually betray-
ing themselves? But, of all places, the defect is moſt viſible
in the Houſe of God, and its confequences moſt prejudicial;
becauſe the very end of meeting, is thereby, moft remarkably
defeated.
In all countries, where ſcience has made any confiderable
progrefs, their language has been a principal object of atten-
tion; and, in proportion as that has been cultivated, the arts
have advanced towards perfection. Turn to the hiftory of the
poliſhed ages of Greece, and Rome; England, with all her
boafted advantages and refinements, comparatively confidered,
B 2
is
* One of our modern modifhly-bred ladies, boafting of her proficiency in
the French tongue, afferted, ſhe underſtood and ſpoke it better, than fhe did
Engliſh, and, for the truth, appealed to a French lady in company. The Pari-
fian very candidly and fenfibly anſwered, I am not, my dear madam, fuffici-
ently acquainted with the Engliſh to determine; but I fhould be ashamed
to fpeak or understand any language balf fo well as my own.'
+
† So very different, that in moft cafes the direct reverfe of the rules
which anfwer for the Latin idiom is nearly the ftandard for Engliſh.
(4)
is but in a ſtate of infancy, and has no right to plead an excep-
tion. We find the wifeſt and beſt of men, in all ages,
and
nations, ftrenuouſly inculcating this principle, as the fure foun-
dation of their glory, and the grand bulwark of their civil and
religious liberties: "Twere eafy to produce an ample lift of au-
thorities, to fupport the fact; but a recent and moft remark-
able inſtance, among ourſelves, may come more directly to my
point.
In the year 1745, when the Earl of Cheſterfield was our
chief governour, the weight of public bufinefs in a new em-
ployment, and in the midſt of a dangerous rebellion, did not
prevent that illuftrious nobleman from cafting his thoughts upon
the education of our youth. In various converfations with fome
of the heads of our univerfity, he took notice of the general
neglect of a proper cultivation of the English language in the
fchools, and colleges of England, as well as thofe of this king-
dom; declared his readineſs to encourage every thing which
might tend to promote the writing and reading of it, with cor-
rectneſs; and, in teftimony of his earneſtneſs in the caufe, pro-
poſed a premium of thirty guineas, for the beſt ſpeech, to be
written and pronounced in Engliſh, the King's next birth-day.
This was defigned only to give a beginning, and lay the founda-
tion of fome more lafting inftitution; which he warmly recom.
mended to the Provoft and Senior Fellows: They concurred in
the uſefulneſs of the defign, and agreed that a lecture fhould be
eſtabliſhed for the purpofe. A ftatute was accordingly drawn.
up, and laid before them; and, in ſeveral fubfequent meetings
and confultations, many excellent refolutions were entered into;
and all preparatory difpofitions duly regulated, and finally de-
termined upon.
What a pity it was not carried into execution!
Here they stopped: And, I am authorized to fay, the difficulty
of finding perfons able, as well as willing, to undertake the
care of this lecture, was the principal reafon, why no farther
progreſs was made in the affair. This at once proves the great
importance, and, of courſe, the neceffity of fuch an inftitution.
If any doubts fhould arife, as to the difficulty of the thing, it
will appear the lefs furprizing, when it is confidered that the
qualifications neceffary to fuch a lecturer, as hereafter defcribed,
are not very common.
After all, had the defign.taken effect, it was but a pro-
vifional expedient. The proper place for commencing thefe
ftudies is at ſchool; for, certain it is, the principles of elocuti-
on, and the rules of English Grammar, cannot be too foon in-
culcated
( 5 )
५
culcated; Children ought to be trained in them, from their
very firſt rudiments, when the pliant organs are easily formed
to the pronunciation of any founds; and before prejudice or
evil habits fhall have taken root. Befides, as but the fmaller
number of the youth of thefe nations, receive a collegiate
education, the reft, to whom it would be no lefs ufeful and or-
namental, muſt be entirely excluded from the benefits of fuch
an inftitution.
What is true of moſt of the improvements which are made
by ftudy or culture, is peculiarly fo of the Art of Public Speak-
ing. If there be not a foundation laid for it in the early part
of life, there is no reaſonable ground of expectation that any
degree of excellence therein, fhould ever be attained. The
impediments, in cafe of adults, already hinted at, we fhall in-
veftigate hereafter: Let it fuffice at preſent to obſerve, that as
good ſpeaking depends upon, and confifts in, practice more
than theory (tho' a well eſtabliſhed theory is not only defirable
but indifpenfably neceffary) it requires the earlier initiation,
that practice may have its full fcope, before the time of life
arrives, in which there may be occafion for public exhibition.
Mankind muft fpeak from the beginning, therefore ought,
from the beginning, to be taught to ſpeak properly; otherwife
they will inevitably contract habits of fpeaking improperly;
and whoever knows the difficulty of breaking through bad ha-
bits, will avoid that labour by prevention. There is a wide
difference between fpeaking and writing. Some, nay moſt of
mankind, are never to be writers; all are fpeakers. Young
perfons ought not to be put upon writing, from their own funds
I mean, till they have furnished their minds with thoughts,
that is, till they have acquired funds; but they cannot be kept
from ſpeaking.
A queftion may be put, what claffes of children are the
proper objects of fuch a courfe? The answer is ready. It is not
partially confined to order or degree. Like our conftitution,
diffufing bleffings all around, it breathes the fpirit of freedom;
refpects the general community, and with a foftering arm em-
braces, male and female, all its branches. It is peculiarly
adapted to the purpoſes of children of rank, entitled to fit in
either Houfe of parliament; and equally calculated to anſwer
the important ends of thofe who would effectually difcharge
the duties of their calling, or are defirous to fhine in the
pulpit, on the bench, or at the bar. The country gentleman,
who wishes to fupport an intereft, and maintain an influence
in
( 6 )
in his county; the merchant, in the affemblies of his com
mercial brethren; and even thoſe of inferiour note, in their
corporate capacities, muft foon perceive the advantages of read-
ing and speaking their mother tongue with propriety and ad-
drefs. It is an allowed maxim, that, upon all fubjects, good
reading is the beſt comment. What an immenfe addition both
of pleaſure and profit muft the ftudent in his clofet receive, thus
enabled to animate and improve the nobleft fentiments of his
moſt favourite authours, with a fpirited and fuitable delivery!
What advantages as a writer may he not hence derive, thus
taught to form his periods; to polifh his ftyle; and to transfufe
into his compofitions, all the copioufnefs, fluency, energy, and
perfuafive graces of living fpeech! The merely domeftic man,
fuppofing him entirely unambitious of a literary character; fup-
pofing him to have no view to the fenate, the pulpit, or the
bar, will yet find his account in beftowing fome pains in ac-
quiring a degree of maſtery in his native tongue: It will
eftablish his confequence among his friends, and companions;
and, within the circle of his influence, as well as in his own im-
mediate family, and domeftic retirements, it will enable him
more effectually to promote the interefts of religion, morality,
and good neighbourhood. A boy may turn out an extraordi-
nary penman, an excellent accomptant, a fublime mathemati-
cian, and withal a very bad man. Thoſe branches of fcience,
however uſeful, contribute nothing to the improvement of
morals. In the ſtudy of elocution, the cafe is far otherwiſe.
The examples for practice, felected from the moft approved au-
thours, confequently include an extenfive field of inftruction,
upon a variety of the most improving and interefting topics,
conveyed in the moſt elegant and forcible language; and, that
the pronunciation and manner of delivery may perfectly accord,
every fentiment, every expreffion, every word, muſt be care-
fully analized, and fedulously examined. Nothing here can be
admitted implicitly, or in grofs. Every circumftance of matter,
tendency, time, place and connection of the whole, and all
its parts, muſt be comprehended, and thoroughly digeſted by the
young declaimer. They mufl be reiterated, and impreffed upon
his mind, till his whole foul, warmed into action, and pregnant
with its effects, pours them forth, like Pallas from the head
of Jove, completely armed with every grace, and every power
of genuine irrefiftable eloquence. Hence his feelings are re-
gulated; his difpofitions corrected; and all his reafoning facul-
ties duly exercifcd and improved. The moft exalted virtues,
prudence,
( 7 )
prudence, moderation, felf-denial, humanity, juftice, piety,
equity, patience, duty to parents, deference to fuperiours, the
love of his country, and a reverence to her laws, are the con-
ftant theme of his contemplation. Vice is rendered odious;
the paffions deftructive to himfelf, or hurtful to others, painted
in their native deformity; and artifice and villany, ftripped of
their maſk, he is taught to deteft and to avoid. Good princi-
ples come recommended under the idea of pleaſure and amuſe-
ment, and the practice of them becomes familiar, and grows
into habit. Accuſtomed to ſpeak before numbers, he is always
felf-poffeffed, and confequently his deportment orderly, confiftent
and free. He acquires confidence without effrontery; dignity
without pride; and, full of the energies of virtue, is never afraid
to enter the lifts in her defence: thus he fupports her intereft
with fortitude and fuccefs. Does not this exhibit a ſyſtem of
the most delightful and effective morality? can it be denied,
that a boy, educated upon thefe principles, with a proportional.
share of the gifts of nature, muft become a more uſeful member
of fociety, than is poflible in the common methods? His heart
will be humanized; his understanding opened; his fentiments
enlarged; his morals improved: he muſt be a more diſintereſted
friend; a more rational companion; a more confirmed chriſtian
a better man; in a word, more completely qualified to diſcharge
every civil and focial duty of life in whatever ftation.
Writing, arithmetic, and mathematics, are doubtleſs uſeful
and abfolutely neceffary inftruments; but an inftrument the
moft perfect in its kind, without a head to apply, tafte to direct,
and an improved well regulated heart to fuperintend all, is of
little intrinfic value. Our mechanics are merely handicraftſmen ;
they can execute indeed; but are obliged for tafte and defign
to nations more ftudious of cultivating their mental faculties.
To inſtance, among multitudes, but in a fingle article. Our
filk manufacture. How much fuperiour to the French in quality!
in fancy how fhamefully inferiour! What fums does it annually
coft the nation, and what artifices are exerted to procure their
patterns! bewitching inducements to clandeftine importation!
This is a ftriking monument of our futility and neglect; and
in all works of elegance and fancy, the proofs of our infuffi-
ciency are proportionally obfervable. For want of proper edu
cation to form our judgement, as has been remarked, we impofe
upon ourſelves extraneous conceptions, and an incongruity of
alte, which often hurry us to needlefs and prepofterous expence,
and make us a bye-word among the nations. But will theie
evils
( 8 )
evils be remedied by learning to read? No, not merely by learn-
ing to read: but by laying a foundation there, and cultivating
our mother-tongue, as they have wifely fet us the example, it
will induce a general fpirit of emulation; diveſt us of a certain
clumfinefs and barbarity of idea; and diffufe a general good
taſte throughout the land. This, with our executive abilities,
would foon teach us to excell our arrogant vain-glorious maſters,
and fecure to us the fuperiority in arts as well as arms.
But fetting afide all motives of national benefit (too often pro-
ftituted in thefe our days) if entertainment alone were the object,
what could be more delightful than to hear the beautiful and fub-
lime fentiments of a Milton, a Shakefpear, a Dryden, a Pope, a
Tillotson, a Young, an Addiſon, a Shenftone, or a Maſon, How-
ing with judicious, fpirited, harmonious, expreffive and happy
propriety, from the charming lips of a Townfhend, a Millfington,
a Birmingham, a Gardiner, a Nevill, a Montgomery, a Boyd,
a Nugent, an O Reilly or a Beresford? what more rational? what
could ftand in competition? Thefe confpicuous names, with
many others in the female world, here jufly claim diſtinction,
and fhew how much even beauty may be enhanced and improved
by the addition of unaffected good fenfe, and a modeft culti-
vated underſtanding. The Romans, notwithstanding the great
eafe and certainty with which the art of reading and repeating
their poets might be acquired, took uncommon pains to arrive
at the utmoſt accuracy in that reſpect. To the moſt critical
knowlege of the rules, conftant practice was added. They
had perfons regularly trained, to be able to perform it with
• exactneſs and grace, as much as our fingers now are in mufic;
and reciting fine paffages out of Virgil, and their other
excellent poets, was a chief part of their entertainment, in
the fame manner that finging felect airs of Handel, or playing
• favourite folos of Geminiani, are with us.'* Cicero, that
prince of philofophers and real patriots, as well as of orators,
explicitly teftifies, that addrefs in ſpeaking is highly orna-
mental, as well as ufeful, even in private life. † The limbs
are parts of the body much less noble than the tongue; yet no
gentleman grudges a confiderable expence of time and money,
to have his fon taught to uſe them properly; which is indif-
putably
* See British Education, where, in a ftyle and manner happily adapted to
the ſubject, the authour of that judicious performance has endeavoured to open
the eyes of his countrymen, and muft give ample fatisfaction, upon this and
many other very interefting points, to all who attentively perufe his work.
+ Cicero de Oratore, Lib. 1. p. 83,
(9رو
)
putably right, and is there no attention to be paid to the uſe of
the tongue, the glory of man?
Suppofing a perfon to be ever fo fincere and zealous a lover
of virtue and of his country, without a competent ſkill and
addreſs in ſpeaking, he can only fit ftill, and fee them wronged;
for, deftitute of the requifite qualifications, how fhall he attempt
to prevent or redreſs the evil? Let an artful and eloquent ſtateſ-
man harangue the Houfe upon a point of the utmost confequence
to the public, he has it greatly in his power to miſlead the judge-
ment of the members. And he, who fees through the delusion, if
he be aukward in delivering himfelf, can do nothing to hinder
the ruinous fchemes propofed by the other, from being carried
into execution, but give his fimple negative against them, with-
out fo much as explaining to the Houfe his reafons for fo doing.
The cafe is the fame in other fmaller affemblies and meetings,
in which volubility of tongue, and fteadiness of countenance,
often prevail againſt ſolid reaſons, and most important confi.
derations.
Theſe are truths, fo manifeft in themfelves, that the bare
mention of them, one would think, fhould flath conviction
upon every hearer; but it is the weakneſs of many to fhut their
eyes to reafon, unleſs backed by authority; and to deny their
affent to schemes of the most glaring utility, unless they have
precedent to fupport them. In this refpe&t alfo fatisfaction
is at hand. Hiltory, almoft in every page, furniſhes indif-
putable tellimony to the purpose; experience gives daily
proof of the fame; but the following obvious and felf-evident
pofitions, duly attended to, muft clear up every difficulty, and
filence even fcepticiſm itſelf.
That the fubjects of Britain are the only civilized people of
ancient or modern times, who neglected to cultivate their lan-
guage, or to methodize it in ſuch a way, as that the knowlege
of it might be regularly acquired, is a propofition no leſs ſtrange
than true. ""
"That the English are the only free nation recorded in hiſtory,
poffeffed of all the advantages of literature, who never ftudied
the art of elocution, or formed any inftitutions, whereby they,
who were moft intercfted in the cultivation of that art; they,
whofe profeffions neceffarily call upon them to fpeak in public,
might be inftructed to acquit themfelves properly on fuch occa-
fions, and be enabled to deliver their fentiments with propriety
and grace, is alſo a point as true as it is frange.”
Thefe neglects are the more aftonishing, becaufe, upon ex-
amination, it will appear, that there neither is, nor ever was a
C
nation
}
( 10 )
nation upon earth, to the flouriſhing ſtate of whofe conftitution
and government, fuch ftudies were fo abfolutely neceffary. Since
it muſt be obvious to the flighteſt inquirer, that the ſupport of
our eſtabliſhment, both ecclefiaftical and civil, in their due vi-
gour, muft, in a great meaſure, depend upon the powers of
elocution, in public debates, or other oratorial performances,
difplayed in the pulpit, the fenate-houſe, or at the bar."
But to leave the public intereits out of the queſtion; is it
not amazing, that theſe ftudies have never been established
here, even upon felfish principles, which, in all other cafes,
feldom fail of having their due force? fince it can be fhewn,
that there never was a ſtate, wherein fo many individuals were
fo neceffarily and deeply concerned in the profecution of thofe
ſtudies; or where it was the intereft, as well as duty, of fuch
numbers, to diſplay the powers of oratory in their native
language."
There is not a ſingle point, in which the ſtudy of oratory
was neceffary to the ancients, wherein it is not equally fo to
us; nor was there any incitement to the knowlege and practice
of that art, whether of pleaſure, profit, or honour, which with
us is not of equal ftrength."
"We, as well as the ancients, have councils, fenates, and
affemblies of the people, whofe deliberations and debates turn
upon matters of as much moment; where oratory has fields as
ample, in which it may exert all its various powers; and where
the rewards and honours, attendant on eloquence, are equal.
If we look into the hiftory of England, for more than a
century paft, if we appeal to what daily paffes within our
own obfervation, we shall find, that most perfons have made
their way to the head of affairs, and got into the higheſt
employments, not on account of birth or fortune, but by
being, what is commonly called, good fpeakers.' The inftances
of bad fpeakers rifing to eminent ftations in the government
6
C
•
6
are rare."
"Nor is oratory lefs neceſſary to us at the bar, than it was to
the ancients; nor are the rewards of profit, fame, and prefer-
ment leſs attendant on it there; as has been experienced by all
in that profeffion, who took pains to improve their talents in
that way."
"But there is one point, a moft momentous one, in which
oratory is effentially neceffary to us, but was not in the leaft
fo to the ancients. The article I mean, is of the utmoft im-
portance to us; it is the bafis of our government, and pil-
It is the vivifying principle, the foul of
lar of our ftate.
Our
( 11 I
)
our conftitution, without which it cannot fubfift; I mean
RELIGION."
As the Religion of the ancients confifted chiefly of rites and
ceremonies, it could derive no affiftance from oratory; but
there is not the fmalleft branch of ours, which can be well
executed, without ſkill in fpeaking, and the inore important
parts, calculated to anfwer the great ends, evidently require.
the whole oratorial powers.?
"In fhort, the difference between the ancients and us, arifes
from one obvious caufe. In the course of education, we have
purſued most of the ftudies which they did; but ſome we have
wholly omitted. In all the Sciences to which we have applied,
we have far outdone them; and if they ftill excel us in many
of the arts, it is either becauſe we have wholly neglected their
cultivation, or, where we have made the attempt, we have
taken a wrong courfe. The chief points in which they differed
from us, were the ftudy of their native language and oratory.
And it can be indifputably fhewn, that they poffeffed no ad-
vantages over us, but what arofe, either immediately or confe-
quentially from their knowlege, fkill, and practice in grammar,
rhetoric, and oratory.”
But it is a pretty current obfervation, that the Engliſh lan-
guage is unnt for the purpoſes of oratory, and but indifferently
adapted to the higher and more fublime fpecies of poetry;
nay, fome go farther, and pretend to difpute its very existence
as a language. They call it a tongue; a Babel of all the dif-
ferent languages spoken upon earth; a wild, untowardly Scyon,
grafted upon a rude and barbarous ftock; they admit indeed,
that this may be in fome fort characteristic of all the modern
tongues; yet as they have been affiduoufly cultivated, and are
more nearly a-kin to the mother-language, they boaſt eminent
advantages over ours. It is infifted upon, that we cannot
tranilate any original work from any other language, without
great circumlocution. That the English abounds in monofyl-
lables, in which the number of confonants are out of all pro-
portion to that of the vowels; and that the rougheſt and moſt
difcordant confonants are often huddled together in the fame
fyllable. That it is greatly deficient in point of diphthongs.
That it wants that happy inflection of nouns and verbs, which
give fuch variety and majesty to the Greek and Latin, by the
change of termination, and incieafe of Polyfyllables: That
confequently it cannot have that inverfion and power of tranf-
pofition, thofe great fources of harmony in ftyle, by the freedom.
which they give of ranging words at will. That it has not the
C 2
ufe
( 12 )
ufe of quantity, nor confequently of poetic feet, without which
there can be no true numbers. It has been from the beginning
left wholly to chance, and has been of courfe in a continual
ftate of fluctuation; and that no pains have ever been taken to
regulate, refine or afcertain it. In fhort, that it is not fo
mufical as the Italian, fo poliſhed as the French, fo courteous
as the Spanish, fo majestic as the Greek, nor can it ever ſtand
in competition with the Latin.
To answer theſe ſtrictures analytically, and in detail, is beyond
the purpoſe of this effay; to fpeak to them in a fummary way,
is all that can now be attempted; and, even fo, formidable as
they appear, it is prefumed they will be found for the moſt
part erroneous or fuperficial. It is natural for men to have a
predilection in favour of what has coft them much pains and
attention; prejudices of education are of all others the most
difficult to furmount; and as Greek and Latin are fo early 1e-
commended to us, and fuppofed the high road to ſcience and
eftimation in life,, it is no way wonderful fo many ftand up in
their defence. That they are highly deferving of our attention,
is not denied; that they are uſeful as well as ornamental, is alſo
allowed; but if through an enthufiaftic fondneſs for them, or
any other language, we learn to defpife or neglect our own, we
pervert the purpofe of learning them, and, fpoiled of their virtue,
they become worthlefs and deftructive. Let our Anti-anglicans
afk themſelves, have they a determinate and ſtrictly adequate idea
of the real effence and properties of language? have they confi-
dered thoſe properties and effentials generally, and in the ab-
ftract, and, thence deducing clear and diftinct principles, have
they fedulously and duly applied them to thofe languages, of
which they pretend to judge? or have they taken up their opi-
nions curforily by hearfay, and at large? that this laft has
been for the most part the cafe, in refpect of the English,
is evident, as there is not a treatife extant, where the peculiar
genius and conſtitution of our tongue are fifted to the bottom,
and its fpecific difference pointed out.
Were any man hardy enough to attempt to prove, that
the English language is not fo much encumbered with mono-
fyllables as it appears to be, he would probably be laughed at
as a whimfical vifionary; yet fuch a demonftration is within
the fphere of good fenfe and found reafoning. Accent is the
bond which ties fyllables together, and forms them into words;
and as in our longeft words, we have but one prevailing accent,
fo for every fuch accent we have a determinate word. * Now
the
* See Lectures on Elocution, where this Article of Accent, (greatly import-
ant to a juſt delivery) is clearly and fatisfactorily treated.
( 13 )
the particles by which we connect and diftinguish the relation
of words, in the conftruction of fentences, are in their nature
utterly diveſted of accent, fo that in pronunciation, however
ſeparately written, they coalefce and incorporate with the
principal term, and by fuch union conftitute one aggregate
word or polyfyllable. Without entering minutely into a philo-
fophic difquifition of this point, we need but confult fome
of our moſt eſteemed authorities, to illuftrate and afcertain the
fact there we fhall find a numerous catalogue of words, with
their connective particles, ufed indifferently in a feparate or
coalefcent ſtate ;* cuftom, or neceffity not having yet eſtabliſhed
uniformity in that point. Thefe are fo many evidences, at
least that the charge brought against our language, as to mono-
fyllables, making the ear and not the eye the judge, is ill founded
and unjuft. Hear the fentiments of an ingenious writer on this
head;
the paffage is curious; and as the book is fcarce, I fhall
give it more at large †.
66
:
"The excellence of the Englifh is its fimplicity; and if, with
"this fimplicity, it be capable of conveying the thoughts of
one man to another, on all occafions, with clearness and
"precifion, the end of language is effectually anfwered. As
"to multiplicity of monofyllables, they are not to be avoided
"in any language of fo fimple conftruction as the English;
because the prepofitions and figns of the tenfes must be kept diftinct
from the nouns and verbs, that they may be applied with any
66 noun, or with any verb. But if they were confidered as
"united into one word with the noun or the verb with which
tr
66
they are placed in conftruction, fuch word, as a polyfyllable,
would, for the most part, contain as few fyllables, as the
"correſpondent Latin or Greek noun or verb. Therefore the
"complaint
* Thus we write indifferently, can not, or cannot; no body or nobody; an
other or another; no thing or nothing; any thing or any thing; and occafion-
ally we find, by partition and bipartition; by fection and bifection; in action
and inaction; in cafe and incafe; in fight and incite; in deed and indeed; in
devotion and indevotion; in direct and indirect; in elegant and inelegant; in
delicate and indelicate; in juftice and injuftice; in truft and intruft; to gather
and together; with all and withal; alio, a way and away; be gone and be-
gone; and a thouſand others, identically the fame, as to accentual pronuncia-
tion, though widely different in point of meaning: in this view we may alfo
include our compound words, as cart-rope, ink-horn, houfe-keeper, &c. &c.
in which refpect we have an eminent advantage over all modern languages, if
not equal to the ancient.
+ Speculative Grammar, Quarto, page 281.
Thus of-a-man is an expreffion of the fame number of fyllables, as hominis
or avopwwou, and may-run as currat or TpExo, which to my ear have no great
advantage in point of found neither, and fo of most other inftances.
( 14 )
* C
"complaint of the English being weakened by the auxiliary
"verbs, or by any other means, is without foundation; and
"if Tacitus, or any other authour, cannot be translated into
Engliſh, fo fhort as the original, neither can almoſt any good
English authour be tranflated into Latin, fo fhort as the
original. Let any man take a ſcene of Shakeſpear, and try
"if he can turn it into lambic verfes, which fhall not exceed
"the number of the English verfes; and yet every Iambic verfe
" contains twelve fyllables, and the English heroic verfe con-
"tains but ten. Or, without taking fo much pains, let the
foliloquy of Cato, juft before his death, in Mr. Addifon's
tragedy, be compared with the Latin tranflation of it in
"Number 628, in the eight volume of the Spectator, and it
"will appear, that the Latin is at least one-third longer than
"the Engliſh. Yet this fpeech is in the character of a Roman,
on a common topic; and io is more nearly in the Roman
way of thinking, than otherwife it would be: and hence it is
"more fuited to the Latin idiom, than an Englishman's ſpeech
upon an Engliſh fubject would be."
66
The reaſon why tranflations cannot be fo fhort as originals,
is, becauſe the nouns and verbs of no two languages, perfectly
fuit each other; nor do the allufions, or figures in any two
languages, exactly correfpond; and when this happens, cir-
cumlocution muft neceffarily be ufed in the language into
which any original is tranflated. Mr. Addifon fays, the English
language funk under Milton; fo would the Greek have funk
under Homer, if he had attempted an epic poem on Milton's
fubject; and if we turn to Shakeſpear, and feveral other of
our claffic writers, we may find many fet fpeeches, equal at
leaſt to any that have defcended to us from antiquity. Would
our public ſpeakers take the pains to arrive at excellence, which
Demofthenes and Tully did, there is little doubt but the Engliſh
language would fhew fuch excellence as effectually as either the
Greek or Latin.
That our words feem overloaded with confonants, muſt be al-
lowed, if we regard them only as they appear to the eye on paper;
but the ear acknowleges no more than are confiftent with energy
and expreffion, when delivered by the tongue of a ſkilful fpeaker.
A fpirit of pedantry prevails in our mode of fpelling; and,
from an idle affectation of adhering to etymology,* we retain
abundance
For the advantage of foreigners, it is pretended, who may learn our lan-
guage; ridiculous! were it even fo; we fquander away a thouſand times more
attention upon theirs, than they beſtow upon ours, and yet they think it not
worth while to return the compliment.
( 15 )
abundance of fuperfluous letters in writing, which would excite
laughter, were they heard in difcourfe. This is one of the
main difficulties and difcouragements in learning our language.
The French and Italians have acted more wifely, and freed them-
felves from thofe exotic trammels; but the free-born Britons,
in the dreſs of their words, as well as the decoration of their
perfons, are afraid to think for themſelves, and fervilely make
their parade in borrowed feathers. Our alphabet, for which we
are indebted to the Latins, is very imperfect; a circumſtance
which however fpeaks in favour of our language. We have
demonftrably nine vowels, and nineteen confonants, in all twenty
eight elementary founds; the Greeks and Latins but twenty two;
confequently they could not furnish us with characters to anſwer
thofe fix fupernumerary founds. And, owing to our indolence,
or our partiality for thoſe tongues, we have never yet endeavour-
ed to remedy the evil. Diphthongs are inconteftably ornamental
to a language; our grammarians tell us we have fix proper, and,
as they call them, nine improper diphthongs, though there is in
all theſe but two, which really come within the defcription of a
diphthong, oi, and ou; and yet we have in fact twenty four;
the Greeks only fix t; the French eight; and the Romans ten.
Farther, notwithſtanding the charge of roughneſs and difcord-
ance, we admit no guttural founds, which, prevailing in moſt
modern tongues, render them harſh and diſagreeable; even the
ancient Greek was not wholly free from them, for it is probable
they founded their Χ Chi gutturally. The letter S, which the
French fo loudly exclaim againſt in our language, occurs as fre-
quently in Latin as with us, and far more frequently in our books,
from whence they judge, than it meets the ear in our pronunci-
ation, being for the most part foftened into the femivowel Z 1.
But how can we reconcile to any delicate and unprejudiced ear,
their ſnuffling grunting nafals, offenfively reiterated through
every fentence.
Our language is not only capable of poetic meafures, as well
as the Latin and Greek, but in a much more extenfive and fu-
periour degree, if harmony and variety be taken into the efti-
mate. The principles of their verfification and ours, are nearly
the ſame; and only differ in the application, and fome few cir-
cumftances, in which we have indifputably the advantage.
Their hexameters, or heroic meaſures, were confined to a
fucceffion of two movements only, the Dactyle and the Spondee,
equal
+ The Greeks have twelve diphthongs, proper and improper; the Romans
but five, acording to moſt grammars.
The letter Z, is evidently a femivowel, though not ranked as fuch by our
grammarians.
( 6 )
equal in point of time, limited in quality, and reſtrained in their
application; the verfes uniformly terminating in a Spondce pre-
ceded by a Dactyle*: fo that, altho' they run to the extent of
fix feet, their utmoſt range in point of variety, that great fource of
harmony and expreffion, confifted in ringing the changes upon
two feet, in the four firit members of the verfe. Our heroic
metre, tho' a foot inferiour, as to fize, admits of eight feveral
feet, difperfed thro' every part of the verfe, under one or two eafy
metrical reftrictions; four feet of two fyllables, and four triffyl-
labic feet, effentially differing both in time and movement, viz.
Diffyllabic Feet.
Triffyllabic Feet.
Pyrrhic
Spondee
Jambic
C
C
+ Tribrach
Amphibrach
Anapæft
Dactyle
C C
ว
ว
C
I
C
C C
Trochee
With this additional advantage, that we have duplicates of five
of the eight, and a power of forming the fixth in no leſs
than four different ways, at the will of the compofer: One fpecies
of movement of a more melodious tenour, adapted to fubjects of a
foft and plaintive nature; the other calculated for more ſpirited
and forcible expreffion. -
The genius of the ancient tongues, to which their hexameters
were peculiarly adapted, reducing them to the narrow com-
pafs of two feet, obliged them, in perpetual rotation, to put forth
all their wealth at once; which, however fpecious and intrin-
fically beautiful, in works of length, will induce a famenefs that
cloys the ear, and renders them tedious and infipid. We, who
have a latitude of eight feet, are under no fuch neceffity; we may
indulge in a boundleſs variety; our trcafures are inexhauftible,
and fuited to every occafion. The utmoſt variation their heroics
were capable of, may be exemplified in eight words; 'tis impoffible
to exhibit ours in eight times fo many lines. Nor are ſyllabic
numbers the only articles to be attended to; there are other in-
gredients, which enter into the compofition of our verſification,
unknown to the ancients, and with which the moderns themſelves
are very fuperficially acquainted. The meaſures and literal
utterance of the learned tongues, depended wholly on quantity,
infeparably annexed to the fyllables of their words, conform-
ably to certain eſtabliſhed mechanic laws; fo that any perfons
who
*To this the exceptions are fo rare, that I recollect but one in the first
Æneid, and two in the fecond, and thoſe terminate in two fpondees, and are
called fpondaic hexameters.
† A breve is put over a fhort fyllable; a long over a ſyllable of a long
found.
( 17 )
who could articulate their words properly, though utter ſtrangers
to the fenfe, could pronounce them with perfect rhythmical pro-
priety; and perfons entirely ignorant of the true pronunciation,
or manner of founding their words, may write Latin verfe,
agreeably to the rules of profody, harmonious and flowing as
the moſt admired of the Auguftan age. Our poetic meaſures,
reducible to no ftated mechanic rules, depend upon accent, not
quantity; though we alfo have the ufe of quantity, which,
with every other article of meaſured pronunciation, is regulated
by emphafis, and the relative importance of the ſenſe of our
words, as they conftitute fentences. Hence arifes the indifpen-
fable neceffity of being complete mafters of our grammar, and
the full import of our words, to form an adequate judgment of
our language, or to ſpeak it with elegance and precifion, and to
diſplay the various rhetorical excellencies, of which it is ſo emi-
nently fufceptive.
The first principles of excellence in any language, are clear-
nefs and precifion. Whatever counter-acts thofe firſt prin-
ciples, what end foever elfe calculated to anfwer, is doubtless
a blemiſh, and proportionally eclipfes its perfection. Of this
nature proves the boafted power of inverfion and tranfpofition
in the Latin and Greek, which, though it may contribute
fomething in point of cadence, renders their conftruction dark
and intricate. The ancients, we know, indulged themſelves
in the uſe of it, as parents are apt to cherish and fondle the
moſt infirm and fickly of their offspring, to a degree of extra-
vagance; even Cicero himſelf is feverely cenfured by his coun-
trymen and cotemporaries, for his exceffive affectation in this
particular. But whoever attentively confiders the genius of
thofe tongues, may be convinced, that in the earlieſt periods
of refinement, the ancients were impelled by a motive of ne-
ceffity to that perplexed arrangement of their words, rather
than difpofed to it by choice. Their Syntax depended upon
the confonancy of final fyllables; nor had they any other re-
gularly eſtabliſhed mode of marking the relations and depen-
dencies of their words in the ftructure of fentences. An ori-
ginal and grand defect in the conftitution of thofe tongues, as
it is impoffible to preſerve the due order of ſuch words in gram-
matical fucceffion, without offending the ear with a perpetual
reiteration of the fame final founds.
Now admitting that tranfpofition of words may be a fource.
of beauty in thofe languages, does it thence follow, they muſt,
for that reafon, be more excellent than ours? The want of fim-
D
plicity
( 18 )
plicity of Syntax, can never be compenfated by any acquifition
of cadence, or by any other advantages which can be fuppofed
to refult from a complex Syntax, fuch as that of the Latin and
Greek. The buſineſs of life is not to learn language, therefore
that plan of expreffing our thoughts, which is the fooneft ap-
prehended, is incontestably the beſt; provided it be preciſe and
fufficiently general. Here the English of all languages, ancient
or modern, ftands unrivalled. To this effect, let us fubjoin what
the judicious authour already cited, farther obſerves.
It must be apparent to any one, the leaft converſant in
Latin and Greek, that the mechaniſm of thoſe languages
depends, in a great meaſure, on the correfpondence of final
fyllables, to which, while we are reading them, we are com-
'pelled to be continually attentive. Now in Engliſh, there is
no danger of wearying the ear, by a too frequent repetition
of fimilar final founds; and therefore there is no occafion to
⚫ embarraſs the conſtruction, in order to avoid this inconveni-
ence. Unlimited variety in the beginning and ending of
words, is a characteriſtical property of English. This variety
in the beginning of words, arifes not only from the original
ftructure of our tongue, but from the infeparable prepofitions
we ufe in compounding words, which we have adopted from
the French, Latin, Greek, and other languages; and as to
variety of the ending of its words, that must be much greater
than it can poffibly be in the actual conftruction of any lan-
guage in which the nouns are declined by cafes, and the
' verbs conjugated by final terminations. For the fame termi-
nations of the cafes, tenfes and perfons must be continually
recurring in every fuch language, and produce a fad and
⚫ wearifome effect upon the ear.' For this the only remedy is
tranfpofition, which we fee is productive of confequences no
leſs diſagreeable and inconvenient, although of a different
nature yet in ſpite of all, a fmatch of the old leaven will
ftill remain.
C
Thus we find
-en quo difcordia cives
Produxit miferos ! en queis confevimus agros !
tibique
Ofcilla ex alta fufpendunt mollia pinu.
Hinc omnis largo pubefcit vinea fœtu:
From
VIRGIL.
me.
( 19 )
From the above premiffes, attentively confidered, we may
partly gather why their profody and poetic meaſures are not,
in all refpects, applicable to our language; and why blank
verfe, eſpecially upon the claffic model, of which we want not in-
ftances, however idolized by fome, who, Procruftes like, would
have every thing conform to their ſtandard, is not by others.
thought perfectly congenial to the admirable fimplicity, and per-
fpicuity of English; and alſo why rhyme, which is admitted,
and efteemed ornamental in ours, and other modern tongues,
would be intolerable if attempted in theirs. A diftinction
founded upon the different genius and conftitution of langua-
ges, and neither a proof nor a confequence of any fuperiority
of taſte poffeffed, in this inftance at leaſt, by the ancients over
the moderns; as fome writers, perhaps in this reſpect not wholly
unprejudiced, would have us believe.
"Were our language to be ftudied and improved to the
pitch of perfection whereof it is capable, it would perhaps
appear, that the qualities of found, to fit it to all forts of
poetical compofitions, are blended in more lucky propor-
"tions, than in any other; and that we have on that account
as great an advantage over the ancients, in point of num-
"bers, as the invention and improvement of our muſical in-
"ftruments
-metaque fervidis
Evitata rotis, palmaque nobilis.
Quas cum pofideas eft violare nefas.
Non aliter fitiens vicinas Tantalus undas
Captat, et oppofitis abftinet ora cibis.
Spargimur innocua fuccis melioribus Herba,
Percutimurque caput converfæ verbere virgæ.
Non Rhodiorum, quorum ufque ad noftram memoriam.
HORACE.
LONG. MAX.
OVID. MET.
-at, aliquot annos,
continuos ante legem Gabiniam ille populus Romanus cujus ufque ad noftram
memoriam, &c.
CICERO pro lege Manilia, Sect. 18.
Πολλές δ' ίφθιμος, &c.
Ην δια μαντοσύνην την
HOMER.
Μετα δε ταυτα, θερες μεσολο
του μην εν ξυμμαχων τοις πλείσοις,
και τοις σιαγωγοις αλκασι, και τοις πλοίοις και όση αλλη-αυτος δε
>
ο δόλος ως χρόνιος τε ἐσομενος, και κατ' αμφότερα.
THUCYDIDIS HIST. VI. 31.
( 20 )
66
to
** ftruments have given us, with refpect to harmony. But in
"both caſes, we have failed of the end, by a neglect or abuſe
"of the means which alone could give us a fuperiority.".
"We did not know, that amidſt all their variety of meaſures,
“in their different fpecies of poetry, there is not one,
"which we either have not, or may not have fomething ana-
logous in ours, and for the most part more perfect in its
"kind.". "How few are there capable of perceiving, that
"Milton does not exceed Homer and Virgil in any thing fo
"much as in his numbers? The Paradife Loft fufficiently fhews
"its fitnefs for Heroic poetry. In the works of Shakeſpear,
we may eaſily diſcover that it is the most proper for tragedy
ever yet made uſe of. The ſame alfo may be feen in fome of
"his comedies." "Milton's Lycidas affords an example of
"its elegiac powers; and the Cyder of Philips, of its didactic,
"which will be found in the aptitude of its meaſures to its
matter, fuperiour to the Georgics: nor are we without in-
ftances happily adapted to the eafe and fimplicity of Paftoral.
"In the Lyric ftyle of compofition, the English can boaſt of
"the moſt perfect Ode that ever was produced in any language,
"in point of variety, harmony, and expreffion in its numbers.
“I mean the Ode on St. Cecilia's day, by Dryden."
"Horace has uſed the heroic meaſure in his fatyrs and epiftles,
"but with a far lefs degree of eafe and happy familiarity, than
"c
ві
<c
the English is capable of in that fort of writings. Add to
"theſe, its uſe in a new vein of poetry, and perhaps not one of
"the moſt unpleaſant kind, whereof no traces remain in the
writings of antiquity, the grave burleſque, as in the Splendid
"Shilling of Philips." Thefe pertinent and judicious obfer-
vations are extracted from the ſecond book, of British Edu-
cation, chapter the ninth; containing alfo many other curious
remarks on the fame fubject, of which no one, who has the
interefts of education and the English language at heart,
cught to be ignorant.. -In this enumeration, we muſt not
forget another fpecies of writing, the humorous burlefque, to
which it has been fuccefsfully applied by Butler, in his Hudibras;
neither ſhould we omit the elegant ftory-telling vein of Prior.
From all which we naturally deduce this conclufion, That the
Engliſh is equally well fuited to all the various ftyles of poetry,
heroic, tragic, comic, paftoral, elegiac and didactic.
We are told, and we ſeem to take it for orthodox too, that
our language is unfit for mufic; but upon what authority?
We annually cram the pockets of certain Italian emigrants of
low
( 21 )
low education, and mean parts, except in their vocation, whoſe
performances we extravagantly affect; we entertain them as
teachers, and that doctrine they propagate, wherever they
gain accefs. Every language has its difficulties, and appears
uncooth to Aliens; ours of courfe is not without them, and in
their mangled pronunciation feems diffonant and barbarous
indeed; on this they ground their affertion; they can neither
write nor ſpeak it intelligibly; are too proud and indolent to
give the requifite application, and feeling their deficiency,
would gladly fhift it from themſelves, and fix it upon the lan-
guage. Our Tramontane Macaroni linguifts, by a ſtrange kind
of contradictory felf-delufion, ftrikingly characteristic of thefe
countries, run headlong into their opinions, and prefuming
themſelves adepts in the continental tongues, have their idioms
and phrafes perpetually in their mouths, and are inceffantly
idolizing their imagined beauties; though it is but fair to fup-
poſe, that broken French and Italian are at leaft as incidental
to us, as it is to foreigners to fpeak broken English. That the
Italians should fhine in mufic, and furpafs us in an art which
they dearly purchaſe, and to which their nation, and their whole
lives, are fo entirely devoted, is nothing wonderful. Excel-
lence is the reward of application: and in decrying our lan-
guage and mufic, and conferring the palm upon their own, by
the labour of ages, refined and reciprocally adapted to each
other, they act wifely as children of this world, for by that
craft they live. But fuppofing them in the wrong, who ſhall
inform them better? Who have we that can take upon him to
fay determinately, what our language may be capable of?-Our
countryman Purcel, and fome other modern mafters, have af-
forded us pleafing proofs that English is not quite deftitute of
mufical expreffion, and in the grand and martial ftyle, it even
foars above the Italian. There is a national mufic, as well as
national language, both, probably, deducing their character
and peculiar properties from the caft and genius of the people,
and which cannot be altogether difunited, and implicitly adopted
by any other without manifeft difadvantages. This our matters
appear to have wholly overlooked, and, neglecting the legiti-
mate offspring, have employed all their fkill and induftry to na-
turalize a fpurious iffue, beautiful, and captivating indeed in its
afpect, but of a meagre, emafculated conftitution: Had the cha-
racters of poet and muſician been united, as when they flouriſhed
in the golden days of old, matters would have taken a different
turn; then they might have given their genius fcope, and we
fhould
( (22
22 )
fhould perhaps have heard the Britiſh lyre attuned to native
ſtrains,
Untwiſting all the chains that tie
The hidden foul of harmony.
MILTON.
How aptly, allowing thofe foreigners their utmoft claims,
might we then apply theſe admirable allegoric lines of the fame
divine pen, almoſt literally realized ?
<
'I have oft heard'
Hefperian Circe, with the Syrens three,
Amid the flowery kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs,
Who as they fung would take the prifon'd foul,
And lap it in Elyfium'-
Yet they in pleafing flumber lulled the fenſe,
• And in ſweet madneſs robb'd it of itfelf.
• But fuch a facred and homefelt delight,
• Such fober certainty of waking blifs,
• I never heard 'till now'-
MILTON'S COMUS.
Words, in reſpect of thoughts, are generally eſteemed mere
arbitrary marks; and the elements of which they are ſeverally
compofed, as having no fort of connection with, or relation to
the ideas of the mind, which by common confent they are un-
derſtood to reprefent. The fact is otherwife. The elements of
language, called letters, have the properties of muſical founds
in a certain degree; fome harfh, fome fmooth; fome more,
fome lefs agreeable to the ear; and theſe again, in the ftructure
of words and fentences, are combined and apportioned in a
rich and almoft endlefs variety: Similar to theſe are the
ideas and emotions which take poffeffion of the human mind;
and it ſeems reafonable to imagine, that nature, independent
of art, would not be fo much at variance with herſelf, as to
pitch upon coarſe and difcordant founds, to reprefent what was
in itſelf pleafing and defirable; or that foft and mellifluous
notes fhould be appropriated, to exprefs rough and tempestuous.
fenfations. More juſt and confiftent is it to conclude, that the
types of our ideas and emotions muft correfpond with the im-
preffions that gave them birth. And as we actually find it, the
very found of the terms made ufe of, would frequently indicate
fomething of the nature of the objects and conceptions of
which
( 23 )
which they ſtood the ſymbols. Doctor Wallis✶ corroborates this
Theory, by a numerous variety of examples, even in fingle
words, wherein our language may boaſt a vaſt ſuperiority over
all others. The inftances of collective expreffions of this
nature, picked out of the Greek and Latin poets, are well
known, which it were eaſy to match with multitudes of a
fimilar kind, gathered from our own writers; the following
now preſent themſelves.
An interrupted movement, flow and magnificent.
-Thě fud'děn glan'ce
Appears far' fouth, eruptive thro' the cloud;
And following flōwer, în explōsion vaft',
The Thun'dĕr raises his trěmen'doŭs voice:
At first heard' folemn o'er the verge of Heav´ěn
The tempeft growls; but as it nearĕr com'es,
And rolls its awful burden on the wind,
The lightenings fláſh'
Light and airy.
&c, &c.
THOMPSON'S SUMMER.
1
The Black'-bird whift'les from the thōrny brake.
Swiftnefs.
Afabel, fwift'er than the Northern wind,
Scarce could the nim'blě mōtions of his mind
Outgo his feet; so ftrangely would he run',
That time itſelf' perceiv'd not what was don'e.
Oft o'er the lawns and meadows would hè pafs',
His weight unknown ånd hārınlĕfs to the graſs'.
Oft o'er the sand's and hollow duft' would trace,
And not ăn at'om trouble or děface.
IBID.
Unwieldy exertion.
Scarce from his mould
Běhemoth, biggeſt born of earth', upheav'd
His vaft'něfs.
* In Grammatica Linguæ Anglicanæ,
COWLEY.
MILTON.
A foft
( 24 )
A foft and flowing movement.
Soft' is the ftrain when Zeph'yr gently blows
And the fmooth ftream in fmoother num'běrs flows.
Delicate and tender.
Awake,
My faireft, my eſpoūs'd, my lateſt found
Heav'en's laft' beft gift', my ever nēw dělight,
Awake.
POPE.
MILTON, Book V,
With thee conver'sing I forget' all time;
All feasons and their change, all pleafe alike.
Sweet is the breath' of mōrn, her rising fweet
With charm of ear'lieft bird's; pleasant the fun',
When firſt on this delightful lan'd he ſpread's
His ōrient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower
Glis'tering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
Af'ter foft' fhowers; and fweet the coming-on'
Of grateful evening mild; then' silent night
With this' her fol'emn bir'd, and this' fair moōn,
And theſe the gem's of heaven her ſtar'ry train.
But neither breath of morn, &c, &c.
The finging of the Nightingale deſcribed.
MILTON, Book IV.
;
But hark'! for thee the lonely fong'ftrefs tries,
To chace the awful ftill'něfs from the ſkies:
In fhor't es'săys ſhe firſt åttūnes her thrōat,
And calls attention touching note by nōte
The mellowing tones connected now appear,
And grateful ravifhment dwell's on the ear
Smoothly continuous fhe gen'tly plains,
And ſweetly modulates her foothing trains;
Now bōlder grown with just gradation fwell's,
And all the grove her tale refpon'sive tell's;
Trilling fhe holds her voice; now gliding then'ce,
Soft', foftly down, it dies upon the fen'ſe;
Scarce hear'd, far, far' remote, we catch the notes,
As thro' the ſtil'ly air the melting music floats.
Thus foft and flow, bris'k, lively, clear and ftron'g,
Till mōrn ſhe warbles fōrth hĕr vāried ſong′;
Pier'cing
( 25 )
Pier'cing the lov'e-torn mind and night's dull' ear,
With founds almoſt too ex'quisite to bēar.
ANONYMOUS.
Terrour, expreffed in harſh and diſcordant movements.
Approach thou, like the rugged Rus'fiăn bēar,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcanian tiger,
Take any form but that', and my fir'm nerves
Shåll never trem'ble.
I cou'd' ǎ tale unfold, whofe lightěft wor'd,
SHAKESPEAR.
Would harrow up' thy soul; freeze thy young' blood';
Make thy two eyes, like ftar's, ftar't from their ſpheres;
And each particular hair to ftan'd on en'd,
Like quill's upon the fret'ful porcupine.
Impetuofity.
IBID.
Arm, arm, yě Heav'ens, again't thefe perjur'd kings,
A widow cries, Be Hus'bånd tŏ mě, Heav´ěn !
IBID.
In the following we hear the falling of the ponderous Oak.
Then ruft'ling, crack'ling, crathing, thun'děr down.
Uniform exertion of ſtrength.
1
ANONY.
That' bow, whoſe thick' tough' texture tri'd in vain,
Baf'fl'd each effort of the courtier train.
Chearful imagery, with melancholy reflection.
The breezy call of in'cenfe-breathing mōrn,
The fwallow twittering on the ftraw-built fhed',
The cock's fhrill' clarion, or the ech'oing hōrn,
No more fhåll rōuſe them from their lowly bed'.
Reluctance.
a
IBID.
SHENSTONE.
For whō, to dumb' forget'fulneſs å prēy,
This pleasing an'xious being e'er resign'd,
Lef't the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor caft' on'e lon'ging, lingering look běhind.
E
IBID.
Anxiety,
( 26 )
Anxiety, with extreme languor.
Thy dear, dear name his laft' faint faultering breath'
Repeats; and quit's thee, quit's thee, but in death'.
Tranquillity and torpitude.
With eaſy courfe
ANONY.
The vessels glide; unless their ſpeed be ſtop'p'd
By dead' calms, that of't lie on thōſe ſmooth seas,
While every Zephyr fleeps; then the ſhrouds drop';
The downy feather on the cordage hun'g,
Mōves not; the flat sea fhines like yellow gōld
Fus'd in the fire, or like the marble floor
Of fom'e old tem'plě, wide.
THE FLEECE,
It is needless to multiply quotations, thefe will fufficiently
illuſtrate what is meant by numerous compofition; and, to what
an uncommon degree of perfection our language is capable of
it, muſt ſtrike every reader of taſte. To enter into a particular
analyſis of their feveral excellencies would take up much time and
attention; and to aſcertain them properly, would require a diſtinct
and ſeparate treatiſe. But this is a fpecies of beauty not to be
every where expected. The nature of language will not admit
of it in all cafes in an equal degree; nor are all fubjects, circum-
ſtances and fituations, fufficiently important and interefting to
require it; yet an attentive reader might very eafily enlarge the
collection. Our poets, particularly Spenfer, Shakeſpear, Mil-
ton and Dryden, abound with inftances to the like effect innu-
merable; where, as in the examples juft recited, not only the
general turn and movement of the verſes, but the very words
and elementary founds of which they are compofed, co-operate
with the fubject, and ftrongly tend to affect the mind with cor-
refpondent impreffions. Will it now be facrilege to ſuppoſe
they cannot be furpaffed, probably not equalled, in a like
number of verfes taken together, through all the extenfive
range of antiquity? Be it however noted, thefe paffages are
not cited as models of pure and uniform melody, or flowing
cadence, the only idea, though furely a very inadequate one,
moſt people conceive of metre; but as inftances of that fitneſs
of numbers, and fentimental harmony, which alone conftitute
the effence, the foul of genuine verfification; or as a noble
writer expreffes himſelf immediately to the point.
Sublime
( 27 )
Sublime or low, unbended or intenfe,
The found is ftill a comment on the fenfe.
ROSCOMMON.
Such as are under the influence of particular prejudices, and
have paid little or no attention to the nature and intrinfic effi-
cacy of articulate founds, may think this idea puſhed too far,
and pronounce the whole fanciful or unimportant. Every
neighbourhood, coffee-houfe, and petty affociation, has its
oracle, who challenges fupremacy in all matters of taſte and
judgement, and dictates to the reft; beware of encroaching on
his prerogatives; his High Mightiness is abfolute, it is in
vain to reafon with him; he fees intuitively, in a moment, all
the parts and intricacies of a fubject, which has coft the painful
application of years to inveftigate, and in three words deter-
mines the point; his fentence is law; and his opinion all de-
cifive but, fhoemaker, go not beyond your laft. Pofitive
affertions are not argument; and though a fignificant ſhake of
the head, or a confequential fhrug, may ferve to cloke defici-
ency, and, on fome occafions, may for a while invalidate fact,
it cannot change the nature of things. The authority of more
enlarged and tempered difcerament must prevail. We are not all
born with the fame faculties and difpofitions, confequently all
do not fee and feel alike. Swift, that miracle of penetration
and literature, had no ears for mufic; the fcreeching of a
cutler's grinding-ftone, was as agreeable to him, as Handel's
organ, that filled every other hearer with rapture and aftoniſh-
ment: And tho' we fuppofe it poffible for fome men to con-
template a Venus, without emotion, yet that will never per-
fuade thoſe of happier ſenſations, that beauty does not exiſt.
There must be in nature certain principles, that lead to per-
fection, which, though not vulgarly known, nor obvious to
every eye, may not remain impenetrable to genius and in-
duftry; and thofe principles, though never as yet perhaps pro-
perly aſcertained, muft have reafon and truth for their founda-
tion. Whoever builds upon that bafis, may difregard the ca-
vils of the fuperficial and the vain; he will deferve praiſe,
though he cannot enſure ſucceſs.
If, as feems univerfally admitted, the conftituent parts of
Speech be Sound and Meaning, the comparative excellence of
languages muſt turn folely upon thoſe two hinges. In the firſt
article, we hope it appears, that the English is demonftrably
inferiour to none:
on the contrary,' in the words of
a competent judge, "from whatever lucky concurrence of
E 2
""
" cir-
( 28 )
"circumſtances it hath happened, it may be proved to be fu-
'
«Ε
<<
periour in its qualities, not only to all the modern, but
upon the whole, to the admired languages of antiquity".
"more capable of anfwering all the purpoſes of fpeech,
"whether of ufe or ornament, than any that has hitherto ex-
"ifted upon earth,”- -and could we be prevailed upon to
ftudy and improve our language to the pitch of perfection
whereof it is capable, he farther adds, comparing it with the
ancient tongues,
though we might ftill be obliged to
"confefs that their words were compofed of fyllables more
"vocal*, yet ours would have more ſpirit; theirs might have
"more of fweetnefs, but ours of energy; theirs might be
"better conftituted to form melodious, but ours to produce
"harmonious, combinations. Were the pleaſing flow of the
fyllables to the ear, alone, fufficient to the perfection of found
in a language, the Greek and Roman both muſt yield to the
"modern Italian. But too great attention to ſweetneſs, will
"rob poetic numbers of their greateſt beauties, which are va-
"riety and expreffion."
This point has been more largely ſpoken to, than was origi-
nally intended; yet, as it may contribute to the advantage of
delivery, our prefent concern, it will not be thought fuperfluous.
The next head, Signification or Meaning, being the other confti-
tuent part of language, will be but flightly touched upon, as
it more immediately relates to intellectual compofition.-As to
copiouſneſs of phraſeology, probably no language will be found
fuperiour to the English, an eminent advantage for oratory.
In every art and ſcience we abound with apt and fignificant
terms to communicate our ideas, with eaſe and perfpicuity;
fo likewife to exprefs all the operations of the fancy, the un-
derſtanding and the paffions, not only in a general and grofs
way of conception, but in all their niceſt ſhades, and moſt de-
licate diftinctions. And fhould any new ideas or occafions ariſe,
requiring terms of which we are not already in poffeffion, by
the
If we muſt fall out with our mother tongue, on account of fome hard
and unliquid fyllables, which may now and then occur in it, how ſhall we
put up with the celebrated Roman language itſelf, in every fentence of which
we find fuch founds as, tot, quot, fub, ad, fed, eft, ut, et, nec, id, at, it,
fit, funt, dat, dant, det, dent, dabat, dabant, daret, darent, hic, hæc, hoc,
fit, fuit, erat, erunt, fert, duc, fac, dic, &c. &c.
ANONYMOUS,
( 29 )
the great charter of our tongue, we can adopt and naturalize
at pleaſure, whatever of foreign growth may beft fuit our pur-
pofes. Our travelled gentry, and minor linguifts, indeed, too
frequently abufe this privilege. They lament the poverty and
barrenneſs of our tongue; which, as they fay, affords not words
to expreſs their ideas, and fo, at once difplaying their talents
and their breeding, they affume a continental pitch-patch, har-
lequin fort of phrafeology, as foreign to the purity and elegance
of fpeech, as to good manners and true politenefs †. This ipe-
cies of motley jargon, ſeems aptly characterized by Butler, in
his defcription of the tongue-doughty Hero, Hudibras, in effect
as follows:
His tinsel'd oftentatious fpeech
In pilfer'd fopperies was rich;
A Babyloniſh dialect,
6
• Which pedants I mightily affect :
It was a party-colour'd dreſs
Of patch'd and py-bal'd languages;
'Twas Engliſh cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fuftian heretofore on fattin.
It had an odd promiſcuous tone
• As if he talk'd three parts in one,
Which made fome think when he did gabble
They heard three labourers of Babel,
› Or Cerberus himſelf pronounce
A leash of languages at once.
1
• Then
The abfolute want of a word in a language is the only good reafon can be
given for ufing one borrowed from another; nor is it ever juftifiable, but when
that is evidently the cafe. And then, the words fo borrowed ought to be na-
túralized, and introduced as Denizens, both in pronunciation and ſpelling, con-
formably to the vernacular idiom; otherwiſe it is mere wantonnefs and caprice.
+ Well bred men and women may be met with every where; a polite one is
a phoenix: the qualifications of the former are attainable by apprenticeship,
as you would a trade; to the perfection of the other unimpeachable humanity
and good ſenſe are indifpenfably effential. Thouſands are formed to cringe in
the preſence of Princes, for one who knows how to conduct himſelf in that of a
beggar. Such the depravity and fervile difpofition of human nature!
The term pedant, is generally applied to thofe who affume fcholaſtic im-
portance, but is equally applicable to all who affect the appearance of any kind
of knowlege or accomplishment whatever; though fuch as give themſelves
foreign airs, and, in place of Latin and Greek, impofe on us a hotch-potch
of French and Italian, are more commonly known by the appellation of cox-
combs.
CRITO MINOR.
( 30 )
.
• Then he could coin or counterfeit
• New words with little or no wit;
• And when with hafty noiſe he spoke 'em,
The ignorant for current took 'cm.'
HUDIBRAS, Canto I.
'Tis true every language has its idioms and peculiarities,
which arife from peculiarity of fentiment, different manners
and cuſtoms, with a variety of acceffary cauſes not incident
to others. But this is no teft of comparative excellence: that
muft depend on general principles common to all. Half a dozen
favourite Latin, French or Italian phrafes, for which it is al-
ledged, perhaps too rafhly, we have nothing fo fignificant, or
anfwerable in our own, with respect to the whole of a lan-
guage, are but as a mote in the fun beam; and to counter-
balance thofe, how eaſy were it to produce a fcore of Engliſh
phraſes, for which there are no correfpondent terms either in
Latin, French, Italian, or any other language. Beſides it not
unfrequently happens, that the expreffions obtruded upon us
for elegancies from other tongues, are trite, not to fay vulgar
in the original; often alfo of fuch anomalous conftruction, that
they are utterly incapable of grammatical refolution, and ſtriking
only from their imperfection; yet, in a certain claſs, novelty
and a foreign air will reconcile, and give them a temporary
currency. Thus we often hear and repeat with aftoniſhment
the expreffions of infants, and foreigners attempting to ſpeak
Engliſh. They clothe their thoughts in figure and metaphor,
and furprize us with bold and uncommon allufions.
The rea-
fon is, that, not being thoroughly mafters of the language,
they are at a lofs for the precife appropriated terms, and through
neceffity fubftitute of thoſe they do know, fuch as they think
bear the neareſt affinity to their conceptions. Hence we in-
advertently afcribe to genius and intention, what is in truth
the effect of incapacity, or proceeds merely from a want of
knowing better.
The fimplicity of conftruction obfervable in our language,
infomuch that an eminent philologift thought our whole fyntax
might be comprized in less than twenty lines, and which is de-
rived to us from our Saxon anceſtors, has been justly esteemed
one of its prime characteriſtics. Nor is its excellence in point
of precifion lefs remarkable. Amphibology*, as grammarians
term
Amphibology, of uncertain import, tending equally to various and oppofite
fignifications.
(31
31
term it, the great opprobrium of Latin and Greek, which like-
wife in an inferiour degree affects all the other modern tongues,
is fcarcely known in Engliſh. Nor is it a reflection of the
ſmalleſt weight, that it cannot trace back its origin to the pri-
meval confufion at Babel, fince to that very circumftance is
owing its greateft perfections; a propofition fo evident, that it
carries demonftration in the face of it; wherefore we ſhall cloſe
all we intend to fay at prefent on this head, with the following
brief ſketch of its hiftory, for the information of our younger
readers merely.
"The English tongue, which eighteen hundred years ago
was the pure British or Welch, is now a mixture of a little
British, a great deal of Latin, a yet far more conſiderable part
of Anglo-Saxon * and Teutonic, a fmall tincture of Danish, Runic,
Gothic, Ilandic, and abundance of Norman French. It has alfo
received great improvements fince thoſe ancient times, from the
Greek, Latin, modern French, Italian, High and low Dutch, and
in fome particulars from the Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, and other
Eaſtern Languages."
"But though the English is a mixture or compound of fuch
heterogeneous ingredients, yet as only the valuable parts of
other languages have been ſelected and incorporated with it, we
may properly look upon it as the QUINTESSENCE of various
tongues, and fuperiour to any of the modern, in point of
ftrength, copiouſneſs, and harmony. In fine, though it be
not fo facred as the Hebrew, it is not ſo contracted; though not
fo abundant as the Arabic †, it is not fo irregular; though not fo
pompous as the Greek, it is not fo indeterminate; neither is it
fo barbarous as the Irish, fo inharmonious as the Welch, fo un-
couth as the Dutch, nor fo effeminate as the French. On the
other hand, it is as fluent as the Latin, as courteous as the
French, and as amorous as the Italian itſelf; and when thoroughly
underſtood, it will be found, not only more perfect, but, in all
the
"Lingua Anglorum hodierna avitæ Saxonicæ formam in plerifque ora-
tionis partibus etiamnum retinet. Nam quoad particulas cafuales quorundam
cafuum terminationes, conjugationes verborum, verbum fubftantivum, formam
paffivæ vocis, pronomina, participia, conjunctiones, et præpofitiones omnes;
denique quoad idiomata, phrafiumque maximam partem, etiam nunc Saxonicus.
eft Anglorum fermo." Hickes, Thefaur. Lingu. Septent. pref. p. vi. To
which may be added the degrees of compariſon, the form of which is the very
fame in the Engliſh as in the Saxon.
LOWTH'S GRAMMAR.
+ The Arabic language, we are told, has upwards of two thouſand names.
for a fword, a thoufand for a camel, and above five hundred for a lion, &c. &c.
This is a dropfical ſupérfluity, not copiouſneſs.
( 32 )
the effential, and even ornamental properties of languages, whe
ther to inform the understanding, delight the fancy, or affect
the paffions, in poetry as well as profe, poffeffed of ampler pow-
ers, and probably fuch as are fuperiour, not only to any of the
modern tongues, but to any of the boafted languages of anti-
quity, not excepting even the admired languages of Greece and
Rome."
Enough at prefent for the ftructure and excellence of our
tongue; which, though far fhort, and but the heads of what
might conftitute a complete treatife, feemed neceffary here to
premife, that our young ftudents, as well as their parents,
might be apprized of the real nature, end and ſcope of the ex-
erciſes they were about to engage in; the advantages of culti-
vating their native language, in preference to all others; and
its more immediate importance in the commerce of the world.
This indeed they tacitly allow, who pretend they learn Latin
for the purpoſe of underſtanding English; the direct oppofite
of which, however, would be the rational practice. All un-
known tongues are taught and acquired by tranflating, and com-
paring them with our own, which manifeftly preſuppoſes, a con-
fiderable ſhare of kill, if not a perfect maſtery in the mother
tongue; to put a child upon learning a foreign language on
any other prefumption, muſt be fomething worſe than abfurd;
a ſtep even beyond Egyptian tyranny; yet in ſpite of reafon,
humanity, and all that has been faid by the wifeſt and beſt of
men, our very parents confpire againſt us, and impoſe the un-
warrantable taſk. Hence the difficulties and difcouragements
in the acquifition of languages; the frequent difguft to books,
and the fludy of all uſeful letters; the irretrievable expence of
time, and waſte of money; the extreme fcarcity of folid know-
lege; the trifling; the impertinence; the fmattering empty
conceit; and all the train of libertine principles fo prevalent
in theſe times, and fo juftly and univerfally complained of.
I am fenfible I have exceeded the uſual flight of many of my
younger readers, in this view and defence of our language,
fhort as it is; nevertheless with attention, and the affiftance
of an able inſtructor, as it is neceffary to be underſtood, they
may read it to advantage. Numerous objections, I am aware
alſo, are ready to be ſtarted againſt the fyftem here maintained:
The great literary dons may conceive it an imputation on their
critical fagacity; and the witlings and the fmarts may think it
a pure field for jocular animadverfion: they may haply diſcover
fomething has been faid to a like purpoſe by others, while
intrenched
( 33 )
intrenched in the cobwebs of felf-confequence, and fhielded in
the arms of claffical preſcription, they diſplay their reading and
their parts in expofing its imperfections, and detecting its fup-
pofed abfurdities. Let them dream on, and enjoy their pittance
of felicity. The writer very ſeriouſly declares he has no de-
fign of encroaching upon the province of the one, or difputing
the taſte and ingenuity of the other. Truth was his object, and
the honour and advantage of his profeffion his motives in the
purfuit. He avows he has not relied folely upon his own judge-
ment; but, in imitation of fome wifer predeceffors, has availed
himſelf of all the aids he could procure, whether of books or
converfation, and has occafionally adopted the fentiments of
others, or received their opinions in confirmation of his own.
On which account alfo, tho' many pofitions herein advanced,
have never before appeared in print, he perfuades himfelf
the candid and difcerning will acquit him of the charge
of fingularity. Unfolicitous of fame, he labours only to be
ufeful.
Now, taking it for granted, that this comparative view of our
language is impartial, and cannot, upon the whole, be fairly ob-
jected to, we have only to offer a word or two more on the chief
inftruments of its corruption,
Doctor Johnson, whofe decifions in matters of literature
are moſtly conclufive, enumerating the cauſes of the change and
degeneracy of languages, among which, he fets down as prin-
cipal, folly, vanity, ignorance and caprice, has thefe remarkable
words: A mixture of two languages will produce a third,
"diftinct from both; and they will always be mixed, where
"the chief part of education, and the moſt conſpicuous ac-
complishment, is ſkill in ancient or foreign tongues. He
"that has long cultivated another language, will find its words
“and combinations croud his memory, and haſte and negli-
gence, refinement and affectation, will obtrude borrowed
terms, and exotic expreffions."
"The great peft of fpeech, is frequency of tranſlation.
"No book was ever turned from one language into another,
"without imparting fomething of its native idiom; this is
"the moſt mifchievous and comprehenfive innovation; fingle
"words may enter by thouſands, and the fabric of the tongue
"continue the fame, but new phrafeology changes much at
once; it alters not the fingle ftones of the building, but
દ્ર
F
* In the excellent Preface to his Dictionary, 2 vols. folio.
"the
( 34 )
"the order of the columns. If an academy ſhould be eſtabliſhed
"for the cultivation of our ftyle, let them endeavour with all
"their influence, to ftop the licence of tranſlators, whoſe
"idleneſs and ignorance, if it be fuffered to proceed, will re-
"duce us to babble a dialect of France."
t
If fuch be the cafe with writers of experience, who tranflate
for the prefs, and who, we may ſuppoſe, are in fome fort pre-
pared for the taſk, what are we to look for from children, pro-
bably forced to it in fpite of nature, without fkill or previous
inſtitution; eſpecially young females under the guidance of in-
ftructors, without difparagement, more ignorant in this refpect
than themſelves. French is to be learned. If there be not a
madamoifelle, fometimes when there is, a mafter is called in ;
perhaps, tolerable in his own tongue. He prefcribes the leffon,
a noun to decline, a verb to form, and fome half a fcore words
from the vocabulary or phrafe-book to get by rote; then to write
exerciſes, from ſcraps of meagre execrable Engliſh, compofed
par monfieur A, or monfieur B, monfieur ****, or monfieur
tranflate a few pages of Telemachus, a French novel or two,
the buſineſs is done; and hither we trace the prime fource of
corruption. To children, even their own language is in a
great meaſure vague and unintelligible, and grammar, at
beſt an abftrufe, tho' moft neceffary part of learning, in
this proceſs, a chaos of unmeaning lumber. Their maters,
ftrangers to our language, cannot make themſelves underſtood,
yet their avocation requires the utmoft temper, clearness and pre-
cifion. Their verfions are but the mere literal expofition of
words, as they ftand in their dictionaries, thrown together at
random, without meaning or connection. If thro' meer ftrength
of underſtanding and obfervation they attempt any thing of
latitude, or a more idiomatic expreffion, they ſtep beyond their
mafter's depth, and that for fpecial reafons is prohibited. Thus
the terms indeed are English, but the fenfe of the authour is
obfcured, or utterly perverted, and the ſpirit evaporates and
dies. The phrafe, ftyle and conftruction is ftill foreign. They
err upon principle, which, infinuating itſelf into their difcourfe,
and fanctified by a foft utterance and a pretty mouth, is caught
by the danglers and petit maitres, and Galliciſm and Barbarifm
imperceptibly infect our fpeech, and circulate through the
land. What a frange fatallity attends the youth of thefe na-
tions! Boys are forced through the intricate mazes of grammar,
and the myſteries of an unknown tongue, in the very tongue
they are to learn; and girls are obliged to acquire all the
knowlege
( 35 )
knowlege they get of that fort from outlandish teachers, whom
they cannot understand! Common Senfe, where art thou?
;
Contrary to reaſon, and the example of all civilized na-
tions, nay even contrary to ourſelves, in lefs momentous
cafes, we are carelefs and indifcreet in the choice of thoſe we
pla e about our children. Was this the practice of the Greeks
and Romans, whofe languages are at this day our chief ftudy,
and whofe works the admiration of all mankind? No, they had
refpect to the minuteft article of pronunciation, even of the
nuries and fervants attending their infants in the very cradle
not a flave was fuffered to approach them, who ſpoke not the
native language in its purity. Kings, confuls, heroes, philo-
fophers, and ladies of the firſt diftinction, engaged in the edu-
cation of youth. Their tutors were the prime of mankind,
and their pupils comparatively became Gods. If the remark
hold, that our characters are determined by our company, the
moft pernicious of all company is certainly a bad tutor. Yet
we commit our children to the loweft and most difqualified
mercenaries: and not only their menial attendants, but the
pedagogues who ufurp the name of Mafter, fo rude and unpo-
lifhed in their dialect, fo difgraced with a provincial brogue,
that were it not repugnant to common fenfe, one might ima-
gine That alone was their recommendation. The cafe is by
no means mended in the fubftitution of foreigners, generally
the unhoufed adventurers of fome remote, obfcure diftri&t;
whoſe qualifications are even below thoſe of our own bunglers,
with the fuper-addition of itinerant vanity, impertinence, and
national prejudices. Hence French tafte, French modes of
thinking, French cuftoms, French fchemes; hence the decay
of public fpirit, the decline of ancient British valour; and
hence, -what is the natural conclufion? O confound the
reft! French politics, French laws, French government. For-
give me, great Genius of my dear native foil, if, in the fullness
of filial obligation, my fears anticipate what reafon tells me
fhall be for ages protracted; what hope affures me fhall never
be accomplished.
But granting the fatal period now approaching, then what
avails our refiftance?"If the changes that we fear be thus irrefift-
"able, what remains but to acquiefce with filence, as in the
"other infurmountable diſtreſſes of humanity? It remains that
we retard what we cannot repell; that we palliate what we
"cannot cure. Life may be lengthened by care, though death
cannot be ultimately defeated: tongues, like governments,
66
F 2
" have
( 36 )
"have a natural tendency to degeneration; we have long pre-
" ſerved our conftitution, let us make fome firuggles for our
"language." *
氮
​In thefe general ſtrictures upon teachers, it would be highly
unjuft, indifcriminately to include all. Thoſe who confine
themſelves to the claffic Walk come not within the pale of our
obfervation; the worthy fuperintendants of Mathematic Semi-
naries ſtand alſo exempted. If there be any other, whoſe
learning, affiduity, and well-founded reputation, diftinguish
them from the herd of empirical blunderers, who daily expofe
themſelves in the public Prints, and levy contributions on the
credulous, and unwary, they alfo have honour, and exception.
The importance, and univerfal influence of Education, are
points not now to be debated; they are well underſtood and
felt in Society, and no longer admit of controverfy; as, there-
fore, no profeffion is more uſeful, and neceffary to the com-
munity, none can be more intrinfically honourable: and who-
ever, natives or foreigners, appear with eminent capacity,
and take fuitable pains to attain the requifite qualifications
in any department of Inftruction, while they move uniformly
within their own ſphere, and diſcharge their duty with integrity
and becoming zeal, they cannot fail of approbation and reſpect.
By a fenfible and difcreet Parent, they will be deemed a treaſure;
and the ſcarcity of ſuch characters muſt enhance their eſtimation.
Teachers fo circumftanced, and Parents fo difpofed, muſt be
endowed with liberal and ingenuous minds; and fuch are always
open to the voice of reafon and experience. To fuch parti-
cularly, theſe introductory obſervations on the ART and IM-
PROVEMENT of READING are, with due deference, fubmitted;
and, as the most accompliſhed Judges are ever the most deli-
berate and humane in their determinations, it precludes the
neceffity of foliciting a candid and favourable reception. In
refpect of the feveral characters occafionally glanced at in the
courſe of this Effay, as no particular names are officiouſly held
forth" for the hand of fcorn to point his flowly moving finger
"at," fo all perfonality is avoided; and none can justly take
offence. Neither dare we flatter ourſelves with hopes of reform-
ing thofe attached to their own opinions, and grown old in
prejudice and evil habits. But the young and inexperienced
will hereby perceive what is reprehenfible, odious, abfurd, or
ridiculous in certain modes of thinking and behaviour; will be
guarded
* Dr. S. Johnſon's Preface to his Dictionary.
( 37 )
guarded againſt a vicious imitation; and learn to fhape their
own conduct and opinions from better models, and upon more
inlarged principles; thus the great end propofed is effectually
made good.
OF all the various arts to which the ingenuity of man has
given birth, there is none more generally ftudied and fought
after, than THE ART OF READING: for, while other arts are
reftrained in their occupation, and, comparatively ſpeaking,
confined to a few profeffors, that is common to all, and, by
means of the Prefs, become almoft univerfal among us. We
hear it daily and hourly practifed by all ranks, ages, fexes,
and conditions; yet, how few, how very few, attain any tole-
rable degree of perfection in it! Either, then, the ſtudy muft
be attended with extraordinary difficulties, or the methods laid
down for conveying this art muſt be very defective and errone-
ous. The latter is evidently the caufe; for, many arts, to
which we apply ourfelves with greater fuccefs, are in their
nature every way as complicated and abftrufe. The first ne-
ceffary ftep, therefore, to a reformation, will be, to lay open
the fources of our errours, and defects, in the pursuit of
this admirable Art: thefe, properly afcertained, and cer-
tain ftumbling blocks, which tend much to perplex and retard
the young Tyro in his progrefs, removed, will ſhorten the
preceptive part, and lead more directly to a remedy. As this
part is more immediately written for the ufe of learners, and
fuch as are but novices in the Art of Reading, we fhall omit,
or but flightly touch upon matters which appear more adapted
to the underſtanding of an advanced ftate, referving them, if
need be, for perſonal inftruction, as cafes and circumftances
may vary; and fhall take the liberty to borrow, and incor-
porate, from thoſe who have gone before us, whatever we may
find proper, and conducive to our purpoſe. Purely original
works, efpecially upon general fubjects, are hardly to be ex-
pected in modern times; and, it ſeems a weak and puerile af-
fectation, to reject a requifite point of inflruction, a perti-
nent obfervation, or, an apt and fignificant phrafe, for no
better reafon, than that it was in print before. Let us do our
utmoſt, there will ftill remain room for improvement; and our
labours, with all the advantages of paft experience, may only
prove a foundation, upon which our fucceffors may hereafter
erect a nobler fuper-ftructure.
Reading,
( 38 )
Reading, as offered to the ear, may be defined, the art of
pronouncing the thoughts of others, or our own, exhibited in
vifible characters, as if the fame then effentially operated in our
own minds, and were the refult of immediate conception.* The
filent perufal of written, or printed compofitions, for private
gratification or advantage, to which, by cuftom, the term
reading is alfo applied, is an appendage confequential to the
former, and requires no particular animadverfion.
That this is a correct idea of reading, practically applied to
book delivery, evidently appears from the following confidera-
tions. Whatever is committed to writing must be for the pur-
pofes of inftruction or amufement, and therefore we muft
prefume the authour would have actually spoken it, had all cir-
cumftances concurred; and alſo that no compofition of this
deſcription was ever intended to be confined to the mere dead
Letter; we therefore who are to give it birth by the living voice
ſhould ſpeak it, in the moft natural and fuitable manner, as it
may be fuppofed the writer himſelf would certainly have spoken
it, in a correfponding fituation.
The above definition, and ſubſequent comment, briefly inti-
mate the nature and defign of Public Reading, and, in what
confift the duty and perfection of the reader. The cauſes of
our failure and imperfections in this elegant and uſeful accom-
pliſhment may be comprized under the three following heads.
First, The imperfection of the alphabetic art, or language
of books.
Second, The general inadvertency, prejudices, and mifma-
nagement of our parents.
Third, The infufficiency of our teachers, and the erroneous,
ill-adapted inftitutions to which we are fubjected in early
years.
It is an undeniable and much-to-be-lamented truth, as all,
who have ever taken a book in hand, have experienced, that the
alphabetic or written language, which fhould be in all refpects
a precife tranfcript of its Archetype, the language spoken, is
in a very imperfect ſtate, and by no means calculated to anfwer
the ends to which, in modern practice, it has been converted,
and for which, in its original inftitution, it most certainly was
never defigned. † But, as there is little probability of any
reformation fuddenly to take place, which would fuperinduce
fome very effential changes in the Typographic Art, and con-
* Reading has been elſewhere defined, " Artificial Speaking."
See Sheridan on Elocution, Lecture 1ft.
fiderably
( 39 )
fiderably affect all the prefent editions of our books, it may be
regarded as a point, merely fpeculative, unneceffary here to
infift upon. This imperfection of the written language, how-
ever, renders the art of teaching by fo much the more com-
plicated, laborious and irkfome; confequently, demands a
greater extent of capacity and abilities in the inftructor, as well
as a greater portion of attention and affiduity in the learners; their
progrefs is by fo much the more tedious and difcouraging, and
the inftances of excellence inconceivably more rare; to fay
nothing of its pernicious tendency in many other refpects.
In the fecond place, it is not generally adverted to, tho' it is
indiſputably true, that parents themſelves are the greateſt ob-
ſtacles in the way of their childrens improvement. Their ideas
of education are frequently at variance with reaſon and nature;
merely fortuitous, and rafhly adopted. What authours have
they feriouſly examined, and compared, on the fubject? what
experience is it poffible they could have had? The qualifications
for rearing children are not intuitively furniſhed with their
births; neither is it a matter of courfe, nor an effect of inflint. No
fubject requires a greater ftretch of thought, a clofer application,
or a more thorough acquaintance with human nature. Their ex-
ceffive eagerness to have their children fcholars is in fact the rea-
fon, why fo few of them turn out fuch. This eagerneſs chiefly
operates for the earliest pledges of their love; and at the very
time, the niceft delicacy, and moft critical difcernment, is
requifite to conduct them; in their infancy, and firſt introduc-
tion to learning. The SUPREME DIRECTOR has admirably
fuited the faculties of the foul to the various fucceffive exigences
and operative functions of the body; and, as we obferve a
gradual maturation of the corporeal powers, the mental, keep-
ing pace with them, advance moft naturally in a fimilar gra-
dation. The body, in its infant ftate, requires early and
unremitting care; fo does the mind; and as, to promote a
wholeſome and vigorous growth, we adminifter to the body
with delicacy and cautious referve, by which, in due feafon,
it ripens into fize, ſtrength, and activity, ſo, with the like
indefatigable caution, delicacy, and judgement, ſhould we,
from the beginning, nouriſh and conduct the infant fhoots of
reafon, in patient expectation of a happy and fruitful maturity.
Thus, tho' in all other things, you obferve children advance by
regular, and almoft imperceptible approaches, at once they muit
be ſcholars, whether nature confent to it or not. Reading is
the immediate object. No allowances for difference of capacity;
no
( 40 )
!
no confideration of what minute and various preparation ſhould
precede an undertaking of fuch complicated difficulty. But
what is here meant by reading? If children are acquainted with
written words, fo as to acknowlege them at fight, and give them
a tolerably ready utterance, they are accounted good readers;
that is the grand defideratum; and fo much the moſt ignorant
Pedagogues may eafily atchieve, and the fooner, the more their
acknowleged merit; but, the truth is, moft children read, as it
is called, by much too foon; for, they are hurried over the ele-
mentary part, and read (bar the Solecifm) before they can poffibly
underſtand. Here, then, is the first and chief fource of vacan-
cy of countenance, inanity of tone, poverty and infignificance
of manner, and all the long et cetera of defects fo notoriouſly
ftriking, in the ableit proficients: and hence the tardy and un-
fatisfactory progrefs in all their fubfequent learning.
A queftion here arifes, the difcuffion of which we fhall partly
extract from Quinctilian, as he has fully confidered the merits
of the point; which circumftance alone proves it an object of
moment.
/
Is a child to be put immediately under the moſt excellent
mafter that can be found? a very cogent argument againſt it,
is, that men of genius and capacity are generally fomewhat
high in their demands; and this indeed is one teſt of ability,
that they will not ftoop to the mean arts of circumvention, and
low prices, to feal into reputation. Yet, however, lewd hire-
lings go about, and climb into the fold, they are fure of abet-
tors and parfimonious fpirits, will never want fubterfuges to
countenance their mistaken occonomy, *
According to the opi-
nion
An opulent citizen of Athens, applying to the philofopher Ariftippus,
defired to know, what he fhould give him to inftruct his fon? A thoufand
drachmas' replied Ariftippus (about 321. 58. 10d. fter.) How!' faid the Athe-
nian, I could purchaſe a flate with that money.' 'Do fo,' faid the Philofopher,
and thou shalt have two;' giving him to underftand, that his fon would have
the manners and vices of a flave, if he did not bestow upon him a liberal edu-
cation. Afcham, who was Queen Elizabeth's preceptor, has the following 1e.
markable paffage, to the like effect. Pity it is,' fays he, that commonly
more care is had, yea, and that among men deemed wife, to find out rather
a cunning man for their horfes, than a cunning man for their children.
They fay nay, in word; but they do fo in deed: for, to one they will gladly
give a ftipend of two hundred crowns by the year, and loth to offer the other
two hundred fhillings. God, that fitteth in heaven, laugheth their choice.
to fcorn, and rewardeth their liberality accordingly; for, he ſuffereth them
to have tame and well ordered hories, but wild and unfortunate children;
• and, therefore, in the end, they find more pleaſure in their horſes, than
comfort in their children.'
6
<
( 41 )
41)
nion and practice of many, it is improper, or unneceffary, to put a
learner immediately under the most eminent profeffor; but that
he ſhould apply, for ſome time, under thoſe of inferiour rank :
as if, in forming a child to learning, a maſter of moderate
parts is moſt eligible, being more eafy to be underſtood, and
imitated, as well as lefs impatient in removing the knotty and
difficult parts of the elements of knowlege. On the contrary,
it is of the laft importance to give a child the earlieſt tincture
of whatever is moft excellent in its kind; for, from the very
great difficulty of diſcharging wrong habits once imbibed, the
after, who fucceeds, has an accumulated task, that of un-
teaching his pupils what they had formerly been taught; a
matter of more pains and trouble, than that of inftructing them
from the beginning. On which account, Timotheus, the cele-
brated muſician, required from the fcholars who begun with
another maſter, fees, double what they paid, who entered firſt
with himſelf.
A
They imagine, an indifferent mafter may do very well for
beginners: a vulgar and a grofs miftake! but this overfight,
however blameful, would be more excufeable, did fuch mafters.
only teach leſs, and not worſe, than others. There is another
miſtake, ſtill more general, that men of erudition and abilities
will not deſcend to every minutenefs of teaching; either, be-
cauſe they think it derogatory to them, or, that they are utterly
incapable of it. But, I exclude from the rank of profeffors
the man who thinks any part beneath his attention; and, I
affirm, the abler a mafter is, the more capable he is of defcend-
ing to it: In the first place, becauſe we muſt fuppofe the man
who excells, especially in elocution, to have most accurately
attended to all the means of acquiring excellence. In the fe-
cond place, method is of infinite efficacy in teaching; and the
beft mafter always practifes the beft method. In the last place,
no man, who is eminent in great matters, can be ſuppoſed to
be deficient in fmall ones; and, as fuch a man muft, of courſe,
be a man of ſenſe and experience, he beſt knows how to adapt
himſelf to all capacities. In the various branches of eloquence,
particularly, the leffons of the moſt ſkilful mafters are the moſt
intelligible and perfpicuous; for perfpicuity is the chief
property of eloquence; and, the weaker a man's capacity is,
the more he endeavours to recommend himſelf by ſtretching and
racking it; which, of courſe, renders his inftructions by fo
much the more perplexed, puzzling, and obfcure. I hold it
for an abfolute certainty, that the faults we daily obferve are
G
more
( 42
()
42 more owing to vitious imitation, and bad habits uncorrected,
than either want of inclination, or ability. One of the reaſons
for putting children at firft under the moſt excellent profeffor,
is, becauſe fuch a mafter, being beft able to inftruct his pupils,
his manner of ſpeaking is moft proper for imitation; and,
whenever they commit an errour, they are inftantly fet right;
while an infufficient pretender is apt to encourage them in what
is faulty, and obliges his whole fchool to follow his wretched
opinion. Therefore, the man ought to excell in elocution,
as well as in morals, who undertakes this profeffion; and,
like Homer's Phoenix, fhould inftruct his pupil how to act, as
well as how to ſpeak.
Befide the foregoing, there are other inftances, wherein pa-
rents act diametrically oppofite to their children's improvement.
It is neceffary I fpeak the truth, and that will not always admit
of palliatives; but, while I plead the cauſe of reaſon and miſ-
guided innocence, let it not be thought, I meant to give um-
brage to any; clear in my intention, fhould my fubject extort
any thing ungrateful from my Pen, be that my acquittance.
We now fuppoſe our infant learner, juft initiated, occafion-
ally invited to his book; which, provided the leffons be fhort
and well adapted, not impofed as a tafk, but in the way of
paftime, under an attentive eye, is perfectly as it ſhould be:
captivated with the novelty of the thing, and the little blan-
diſhments attending it, he advances, and makes his firſt faint
efforts to read. Here, or even fooner, the mifchief commences;
here the foundation is laid for all future difficulties, errours, and
defects, which, like a rolling Snow-Ball, encreaſe and confo-
lidate at every turn. Command of temper, inclination, and
perfect harmony refpectively between the parties, were fuppofed
at the beginning; tho' unhappily, not always the caſe. And,
here, permit me ftrongly to recommend it to all, of whatever
denomination, who officiate as teachers, religiously to keep this
maxim in view, that command of temper, gentleneſs and affabili-
ty, are indifpenfable qualifications in an Inftructor; more efpeci-
ally, when they have to do with infant conceptions: whatever
their dullness, their faults, wanderings, giddinefs, inattention,
follies, abfurdities, omiffions, the confummate mafter preferves a
ferenity of countenance, and is armed to all. Such difpofitions
muft, doubtlefs, be regulated and corrected; but, the little
ftarts, and exuberancies of childhood ſhould be tenderly treated,
and pruned with moderation, and diſcretion; and, if authority
muſt be introduced, affection fhould always take him by the hand.
Timorous
( 43 )
Timorous younglings fhould never be hurried, alarmed, chidden,
or in any wife maltreated, at the time of faying leffons. The
buſineſs then is to prove, inform, enlighten, awake, confirm;
which can only be effected, as the learner enters into it, with
chearfulneſs, alacrity, and fpirits; if once you damp him,
or depreſs the mind with feverity, 'tis next to moving a moun-
tain, to raiſe it to its natural pitch. Children, in a great
meaſure, reſemble the fenfitive plant, which expands, and
ſhews itſelf, at a diſtance, but if approached, it cloſes, and
ſhrinks from obfervation. So, when any thing in the fhape
of reafoning appears, they retire into themfelves, and fhut up
all their faculties, even to a degree of ftupefaction: yet, this
muſt be borne with; and a judicious Mafter, like a ſkilful
Angler, will give them fcope; play them thro' all their retreats:
purfue them thro' all their windings, and, at laft, bring them
home to ſenſe and reflection, as it were, by a ſingle hair. But,
to maintain this placid equanimity, and to withſtand the multi-
plied tryals and irritations, teachers muft every moment en-
counter, is indeed a very thorny piece of bufinefs, and the leaft
practicable of the profeffion.
By this time, our lifping parroquets may be able to make
their way thro' an eafy chapter, or a paffage in a common book;
and, now, to forward their improvement, they are called to read,
for tea-table entertainment, or family inftruction; while the
reſt are at their needle, or, like Martha, taken up with the houſe
affairs. But what can be expected from a divided attention,
when the united care, and endeavours, of both parent and child
are inſufficient to the end? The ſcene is changed; their book
no longer an amuſement; mamma no longer a playmate; and,
what pleaſed before, is now become a flavery: new paftimes,
new companions, call off their little minds; their leffons are
all works of compulfion, and they all hurry and impatience to
get them over; a thoufand negligences, lapfes and inaccuracies
are the confequence: Can there be any thing more provoking?
maternal fondneſs is fubdued; all is fretting, peevishness and
paffion; and a ftate of complaint, and inceffant warfare,
enfues. The parent, unfufpicious of the caufe, and ignorant
of the remedy, perfeveres, and chains them to the book;
as if, by reading much, it fhould neceffarily follow, they muft
read well thus, they dodge on, under a variety of fears, pertur-
bations, anxieties, and domeftic interruptions; confirm'd difguft,
and obftinacy fucceed; and, along with unavoidable impro-
prieties, they often fall into wilful errours, on purpoſe to get
G 2
rid
( 44
)
rid of the wearifome drudgery. At other times, I have known
them fo little affected, or caring what or how they read, that
they have begun to yawn, and put themſelves actually to fleep
with their own Lullaby. At beft they but contract a drowfy,
lifeless, humdrum cant; which conftant repetition renders habi-
tual, and foothing to their ears; infomuch that, if, by any ac-
cident, they are ever betrayed into the natural tone of.
their own voice, they ſtart at the uncommon found, and
ſtand abaſhed, all bluſhes and confufion, as if furprized in
the commiffion of fome fhameful, or criminal act. Nor, with-
out the indulgence of their accuſtomed fing-fong, can they be
prevailed on to proceed. Remonftrances are vain; they neither
comprehend them, nor are difpofed to profit by them, if they
did. Children are naturally indolent, and hate application;
and frequent documents, like frequent whipping, render them
callous, and rather tend to injure, than amend. It is idle to
think that unremitting practice will effect a cure; it makes
them worfe; for, every repetition but the more confirms them
in the wrong, and renders any remedy againſt the ſtrong pre-
valence of habit, impracticable. Hence we deduce this infalli-
ble conclufion; that no good reader was ever made, by reading
long, and much at a time: 'tis the manner, and the quality,
not the quantity, that conftitutes excellence. Young ladies are
ftill more liable to the miſconduct above deſcribed, than, even,
boys, who, being fent to ſchool, where only literary and moral
difcipline are attended to, however little they may gain in the
article of reading, pick up ſome other points of inftruction which
turn to account.
Thus, in the third place, we are led to enquire, what ſhould
be expected from mafters, or teachers, by profeffion?
Befide, their intellectual and moral qualities, as members of
fociety, which in all fituations ſhould be a prime confideration,
none ſhould attempt to fet themfelves up, or be encouraged as
profeffors of English, but fuch as fpeak the language with
fluency and grace, in all its purity, perfectly free from any
brogue, or provincial taint; none, who are not able to aſcertain
the true found of every English word, the quantities of fyllables,
and the numbers employed both in profe and verfe; to correct
all difpofitions, natural and acquired, to give any word, or
letter, an improper found; to teach the proper ufe and applica-
tion of accents and paufes; to regulate the tones, and modu-
lation of the voice; to adjuſt the gefture to the tones, and to
make the eyes, and countenance, correfpond with the gefture.
{
This
( 45 )
This little ſketch of the qualifications requifite to fuch
teachers, while it fhews, perhaps, too plainly, the difficulty
of finding perſons equal to the taſk, at the fame time calls upon
every one, who has education at heart, and who has turned his
thoughts to this much-neglected branch of it, to communicate
them, and throw in his mite for the general good. From this
motive, the following remarks are offered to the attention of
fuch as devote themſelves to labour in that Vineyard. Many
of them may feem inconfiderable, and trifling, to fome; but,
affuredly, not unneceffary. First principles fhould be minutely
attended to; as upon them, however dry and unentertaining,
depends our whole future fuccefs. All the wonders of Arith-
metic refult from the applications of a unit; all the fublime
reaſonings of Mathematics are built upon a point; all the ex-
quifite delights of Mufic arife from the modification of a few
fimple elements. And as, by the Microſcope, we are enabled
to illuſtrate, and eſtabliſh ſome of the greateft, and moſt effen-
tial philofophic truths; fo here, if we proceed upon principle,
and aim at excellence, we must make uſe of the microfcopic
eye of the mind; and difcover, and acquire fuch habits in
the minuteſt points, as may tend to accomplish the end pro-
pofed.
We now ſuppoſe an eſtabliſhed mafter, of the foregoing de-
fcription, and a child, who has never yet taken a book in hand,
committed to his care, by a candid, fenfible, and diſcreet pa-
rent. In this promifing predicament, nature and experience
ſeem to authorize, and point out, the following procedure.
Firſt, without lofing fight of authority, to conciliate his
affections, and reconcile him, by foothing and gentle means,
to the new ſcenes he is about to engage in; to which end, it
will be proper, for a time, to fuffer him to run about, as it
were unnoticed, and at full liberty, to amufe and gratify
his curiofity; by which he is relieved from all ſchool horrours,
throws off conſtraint, and appears in his genuine character,
open and undiſguiſed; his temper is diſcovered, and his difpofi-
tions afcertained; nor, were propriety ſtrictly regarded, ſhould
his career be interrupted, till, obferving his little compeers, he
is touched with emulation, and applies of himself for inftruc-
tion: Thus your aſcendancy is rivetted in voluntary fubmiffion,
and his attention is fecured, from a fenfation of delight.
This point accomplished, the next is to call forth a liberal ex-
ertion of voice, and to model his deportment; for, without an
audible, clear, and diftinct utterance, no rules of delivery can
have
( 46 46)
)
have a fuitable effect; and an erect, compofed, unconfrained
poſture of body is the foundation of grace; and highly import-
ant even in the article of pronunciation. This may be brought
about by placing him on a desk, or fome eminence, for the pur-
pofe, and chatting with him now and then, at fome diſtance, in
his own way, upon fuch familiar and obvious fubjects as are
moſt likely to ſtrike his fancy, and engage his attention. To
this purpofe, it will be alfo conducive, to propofe fome little
hero in this way, about his own age, as a competitor. In this
manner let him be invited to pronounce his letters aloud, to
anfwer to his fpelling leffons, and, in due ſeaſon, to read and
recite. But, no exerciſe fhould be publicly undertaken, till he
be firſt thoroughly prepared for it in private. Which will fe-
cure his cafe and prefence of mind, and inſpire him with courage,
to acquit himſelf with addreſs, and come off with eclat: other-
wife, he will be expoſed to ſhame, which would damp his ſpirit,
render him carelefs and indolent, and utterly pervert the in-
tention. Propriety, as well as grace, depends much on felf-
poffeffion, which is the offspring of refolution; and refolution
is an uncertain quality, the child of habit, no leſs than his
embarraffed, aukward, unperforming fifter, fear.
י
In implanting firft rudiments, as indeed in all other cafes,
compulſory methods ſhould be ftudiouſly avoided; and, if pof-
fible, fuch alone made ufe of as may pleaſe, encourage, allure.
Abundance of ſuch methods are preſcribed in books of educa-
tion; all of which may be occafionally introduced to advantage:
and others will fuggeft themſelves to mafters of ingenuity and
application. Thofe of a different ftamp, to efcape contempt,
would do well to renounce the employment. Be it, however,
noted, that the letters are never properly and perfectly learned,
till the young adept is thorough maſter of the various configura-
tions of the organs, and can diftinctly mark their feveral uſes,
and pofitions, in the formation of any found. For this end,
he fhould be taught them, not only in their alphabetic order,
but differently difpofed according to their feveral claffes, rela-
tions, qualities, powers, and effects, as feparately offered to
the ear in a correct and elegant pronunciation. This would
furprizingly contribute to diftinct articulation, and prove a
powerful antidote to hefitation, ftuttering, and all other
cooth deformities of fpeech.
un-
The alphabetic exercife thus thoroughly completed, and the
gefture, and utterance fomewhat faſhioned, and divefted of the
ufual clownish, unmeaning, puerile reſtraints, the tranſition to
I
the
( 47 )
the combinations of letters, in the ftructure of fyllables and
words, is natural and eafy; ftill adhering to the grand prin-
ciple of inftruction; that is, begin with what is fimple and
obvious, and advance by regular gradation, as the pupils im-
prove, to what is more complex and difficult. Here, it will
be neceffary to provide them with a copious felection of the
moft ufeful, elegant, and expreffive words, digefted, and me-
thodically arranged, for the purpofe; which muft alfo be care-
fully and accurately explained, as they go along. Thus gra-
dually introducing the true fpirit and principles of Orthography,
their minds are likewife furniſhed with a valuable ſtock of ideas
an arduous taſk! and they become proficients in the theory,
as well as prompt and accurate in the practice, of fpelling.
Then, and then only, they may with propriety be put upon
reading regular and continued difcourfe.
Here another article, and that too of material import, folicits
our care; the choice of proper books: theſe ſhould be nicely
fuited to their years and capacity, and diftinguished, not only
for the excellency of their matter, and the correctneſs, and
purity of their ſtyle, but remarkable, alfo, for the neatneſs,
beauty and elegance of the type, paper, and workmanſhip.
Such an appointment would excite their diligence, induce them
to be careful, and give them early impreffions of exactneſs and
good taste. But this is an appeal to the pocket, againſt which,
experience proves, there will be many demurrers. It is a fad
confideration, that quantity fo often ufurps the place of qua-
lity; and that, economy, one of the prime virtues, ſhould be
fo frequently fupplanted by niggardlinefs, one of the meanest
and moft defpicable of vices, the moft fhort-fighted in its views,
and fubverfive of its own ends.
Let them not ſtill be obftinately blind,
Still to divert the good defign'd;
Or, with malignant penury,
To ftarve the noble virtues of his mind.
DRYDEN.
The matters here infifted upon, it is acknowleged, are mi-
nute in appearance; but important in effect; and as the method
here chalked out, is the only fure road to excellence, it there-
fore merits the moſt critical regard.. A mind thus habituated
to examine, and fift things to the bottom, will hardly, after-
wards, ftop at the furface, or be put off with fhadows, in
place
*
( 48 )
place of realities. Trifles will never be reliſhed; the original
tincture, good, will preferve its flavour to the laft. The prin-
ciples we imbibe, and the habits we contract in early years, are
not matters of ſmall moment, but of the utmost confequence ;*
and can a modern treat them in too ferious a light, when he
has the fanction of a Locke, and the example of that confum-
mate maſter Quintilian, a writer of confular dignity, to keep
him in countenance? 'Tis the practice of the ableft profeffors
in all arts and fciences; in drawing, mufic, fencing, riding,
dancing, and every other accompliſhment, to eſtabliſh juſt ideas,
and thoroughly ground their ſcholars in first principles; and in
this greatly confifts the difference of mafers, and the figure
their ſcholars afterwards make in life. It is the aggregate of
atoms that conſtitutes magnitude; the whole circle of human
knowlege and induftry, diſperſed in millions of volumes, is
virtually contained in twenty or thirty elementary founds;
and the greateft, and moft ftriking perfections of art are
exhibited in a few maſterly touches, truly eftimated, and
attainable only by the ſkilful and induftrious.
It fhould be an invariable maxim, that a learner never at-
tempt any thing new, 'till perfect maſter of that on which it
immediately depends. This, it must be owned, will check
his career for a while at firft; and a child will read, in the
ufual way, in a fourth of the time he may require in this; but,
however flattering the profpect in the former inítance, he foon
runs himſelf out of breath, ftarts wide of the courſe, and
comes to a dead ſtand, beyond which he never advances: in the
other cafe, he gets into wind, gains ground and vigour every
ftretch, accelerates his fpeed, out-ftrips, and diftances all his
competitors, and, full of life, triumphant makes the goal.
Yet, however efficacious the method might prove in practice,
the taſk remains, to perfuade parents to abide the tryal. Me-
feems, already, it provokes their cenfure; they exclaim againſt
it as tedious and unneceffary: felf-love takes the alarm, and fpe-
culative prefumption confpires to explode it. Does mafter read?
is the queſtion.-No. Not read yet! and fo long at ſchool?
maſter ſuch-a-one read a year ago; and mifs what-d'ye-call-it,
is fix months younger, and reads charmingly. In vain, you
urge his proficiency in the previous rudiments; difference
of capacity; and occafional abfences: fend him to another
ſchool;
1
* Ου γαρ μικρον δε αφερει, το ούλως η ούλως
Ευθως νεων εθιζεσθαι άλλα παμπολυ μαλλον δε το παν.
ARISTOTLE.
( 49 )
fchool; his time is loft, and your money thrown away.
Theſe things are fingularly grating to mafters of eminence;
injurious to the child; and ſtrike at the very vitals of education
itself. They are not aware that reading, in the general ſenſe,
is but a rapid kind of ſpelling; and, therefore, a proficiency
in that is the principal ſtep to excellence in the other. The
main difficulties in our language, it is allowed, ariſe from our
irregular and fantaſtic mode of ſpelling, and the various, and
even contrary offices we affign to one and the fame letter; par-
ticularly, as to the vowels; infomuch that each individual
found has, occafionally, almoſt every different character, and
ſometimes two or more at once, to ftand as its repreſentative.
It is nevertheleſs evident, that reading, as to the utterance of
the words, which is the firſt, and, indeed,
with many, the
only object, wholly depends upon our pre-conception of the
powers of the letters, and their feveral combinations; and,
the more perfect our ſkill is in that, with the greater eaſe and
accuracy ſhall we perform that which is the refult of it. Now,
as there is no real or even pretended affinity between the founds
affixed to the ſeveral letters, and the characters themſelves, it
muſt be a work of time, and exceeding difficulty, for the vola-
tile capacities of infants to conceive the uſes, and applications
of fuch fymbols, and to affociate the extrinſic ideas, with that
intuitive familiarity and precifion required in reading; but,
utterly impoffible for them, when, fo far from having a diftinct,
and intimate conception of the nature, and properties of the
letters, they are, as is frequently the cafe, at a lofs for their
very names: for, deftitute of inftruction, as well as example,
how are they to be informed, unleſs by inſpiration? The mind,
thus diftracted by different operations, is incapable of exerting
itſelf; and, fruitlessly attempting to accomplish the accumulated
impofition, the child is hurried into a thouſand inadvertencies,
and blunders theſe the inconfiderate tyrannical pedagogue
attributes to dullneſs, idleneſs, or obftinacy; and, in confe-
quence, loads the trembling, bewildered innocent with un-
merited
H
* Could a perfect alphabet be eſtabliſhed, theſe difficulties would inftantly
vaniſh; for in that cafe, to articulate the letters, and pronounce the words,
would be precifely one and the fame thing, requiring only an encreaſed degree
of velocity, from that given the letters, in their feparate ftate; which would be
attended with numberless advantages; particularly to children, and foreigners;
and foon give our language the pre-eminence over the French, in point of
univerfality, as it now has in all other refpects.
( 50 )
merited correction, and reproach; tho', plainly, the caufe is
in his own mifmanagement, in fervile compliance with the
hafty futility of thoſe who committed him to his care; as if
the quantity of Birch was the meaſure and criterion of a maſter's
attention and abilities. But, the miſchief ſtops not here. The
infant, thus untimely plunged into this literary chaos, "con-
"fufion worfe confounded" is often, in the courfe of his leffon,
under difficulties to compafs the words; and is obliged to
revolve them in his mind, before he can attempt to give them
utterance; but dreading a total ceffation, he fills up the hafty
interval with hemming, coughing, fpitting and other fuch
fpecious expedients; and, impreffed with the terrors of im-
pending correction, his voice, correfponding with his affections,
becomes tremulous, unnatural, low, and confufed; nor do the
fpiritleſs, enfeebled, inactive deportment; the purfed brow;
contracted countenance, and glaring, unideal eye, lefs mark
the vacant embarraffed mind. The internal gloom diffufes itſelf
throughout the entire frame. At every attempt the impreffions
are renewed, never after to be wholly fhaken off. In a greater,
or leſs degree, they appear through life, the moment a book
is opened.
To this miſtaken practice of hurrying children to read, and
the neglect of all juft rules of Orthography, we may properly
impute the numberlefs barbarifms, obfervable in the converfa-
tion of the moſt polite and well bred. For, the ſpeaker, in-
capable, or unaccustomed, to refolve his words into their pri-
mitive elements, and to determine, by rule and obfervation,
what ought, and what ought not, to be altered, omitted, or
retained, muft, doubtlefs, unknown to himſelf, be guilty of
many and grofs improprieties, and, thro' want of principles,
as well as confcioufnefs, be incapable of fetting himself right,
or reforming others; and, if, otherwife, reputed a man of
fenfe, breeding, and erudition, he will confirm the unfkilful
in their faults, and propagate inelegance and barbariſm, by
the authority of his name and example.
It may be alledged, all who have had a claffical education
fpell well; but the fact is otherwife; and, if thoſe who do,
would confefs the truth, it would be found that the idioms
of the ancient tongues differ fo widely from ours, that they
contribute little or nothing in themſelves to our affiſtance in
that refpect; and, that it was by dint of particular application,
painful affiduity, much tumbling of dictionaries, and long prac-
țice, they acquired the ufe of Orthography, which might have
been
( 51 )
been much eaſier and better attained in their childhood, when
memory is in its prime, and their hours could not have beeri
more advantageouſly employed; and, after all, they are found,
for the most part, very defective in point of Orthoëpy, which,
tho' built upon that, is of far more confiderable importance;
as its uſes are more immediate, general, and expoſed.
'Tis true, this wears the afpect of a tedious process; but
we are here recommending what ought to be the practice, ra-
ther than what prudential motives may induce a teacher to
purfue. For, tho' I would ftrenuouſly adviſe parents to place
their children under the beſt mafters, from the beginning, I
would as ftrenuouſly diffuade fuch mafters from the undertaking,
at that early period. Many and irrefragable are the reafons for
the first; but, on the part of the mafter, the confequences are
much unpleaſant and irkſome toil, a forry pittance of reputa-
tion, plenty of illiberal cenfure; and, after all, what is the
mighty recompence? He has to do with the million, who form
their opinions, more from conjecture, than judgement; his
character, and fortunes are at take great adventures on a
precarious tenure! to fpeak plainly, what right have parents
to expect a man fhould facrifice life and all its enjoyments in
the fervice of their children; when, on their parts, they do fo
little to promote it? are mafters alone to bear the burthen and
the heat of the day? are they alone to be the only confiderate,
generous, and juft? the young ones themfelves fee not their
own intereſts; their paffions, blind guides! are their fole di-
rectors; and they live in a ſtate of enmity with all who oppoſe
them; they fubmit but on compulfion; and their gratitude is
written on the fands. The character of Preceptor is fecond only
to that of parent, and ought to be held as facred; but, if thoſe,
whom nature and filial duty difpofe them to reverence, and
prompt them to imitate, chooſe contemptible inſtructors, or
treat the beſt unguardedly, can it be imagined their children
will refpect them, or benefit by their inftructions. Philofophers
may complain, and ftun us with plans of reformation; the
nobleft fchemes, human wifdom can devife, are but as founding
Brafs, and a tinkling Cymbal, if parents do not unite and co-
Were all matters in fome fort in-
operate to fupport them.
dependent of their profeffion, the community would profit by
it; for, then, as their rifk would be lefs, they might, with
greater fecurity and confidence, confult the true intereſt of their
pupils, and uniformly perfevere in the right path. Property
is a good barrier to integrity, and preferves, as well as corrupts
H 2
the
( 52 )
the freedom of election. We read of times, when virtuous
poverty could command refpect; and of public fpirit, proof
to ingratitude and obloquy: yet, court not the fiery ordeal;
human nature is fallible, and prone to errour; we know not
ourfelves; but in compaffion to our infirmities, we are taught to
prefer this daily petition, lead us not into temptation.
;
Conscious of the juftice of his caufe, a writer may indulge fome
latitude of expreffion, and urge his fentiments with warmth
that, with the candid and judicious, will plead his apology :
notwithſtanding all, the approbation, gratitude, and friendship
of fuch, has irrefiftible influence over a liberal mind, and can
reconcile it to the moft difcouraging attempts.
But, fomewhat to reduce the work and comply with the prevail-
ing perfuafion, let us borrow a hint from our rivals the French.
That afpiring people have long been meditating fchemes of
univerfal monarchy; and, in a variety of inftances, have taken
prodigious ftrides to accomplish their point; that of their lan-
guage not among the leaſt. Perhaps there never was a worſe
ſpoken, that deſerved the name: yet, with unwearied applica-
tion, and fingular addrefs, they have contrived to gain it uni-
verfal currency thro' Europe. It is familiar in courts, and re-
ceived in the field; 'tis the oracle of faſhion, and arbitreſs of
the toilet; not a ribband now
not a ribband now can be worn without it;
'tis the prime vehicle of policy; and, almoft, the fole medium
of intercourſe in the commercial world :* yet the public delivery
of
*Unfpeakable advantages accrue to the French, from extending their lan-
guage :-however we rout them in the field, they conquer in the Cabinet-
Our modern peace-factors, betraying the prerogatives of our victorious arms,
and the rights of Britons, meanly ftcop to negociate, a la mode de francois, at
the foot of a vanquished Tyrant in the language of the enemy; and we become
the dupes of ignorance and folly. More inftances than one might be pointed
out, where the French, availing them felves of the ambiguity of their tongue,
have given an unfufpected turn to words and phrafes, craftily impofed upon.
our Minifters, by which they wrefted them entirely to a different fenfe,
and wholly perverted the ſpirit and intention of the treaty. In commerce, we
are always playing a lofing game with them. They fupplant our Merchants
abroad, and, along with their language, eſtabliſh their manufactures at foreign
Marts, in defiance of the credit and fuperiour qualities of the British: They
feduce our workmen from us; we underhand fupply them with our Wool;
a practice I have heard openly defended; and, afterwards, fo blind and power-
ful is the love of gain! we become their carriers, and vend as Engliſh their
woollen goods, made up Façon d'Angleterre, with counterfeited marks and
feals, in all the ports of Portugal, Spain, Italy, and the Levant. Theſe,
being
تم
( 53 )
of it is attended with fuch nicety, and clogged with fuch com-
plex and jarring principles, that no language can poffibly be
more difficult and difcouraging. But this, to foreign ears, is
fcarcely perceptible; and the natives are too polite, and too
fenfible, to laugh you out of conceit with it. On the contrary,
they are always ready to affift, and reconcile you to your mif-
takes. They extend this mode of conduct and politenefs to
their own children; and, accordingly, in their fchools and
places of early inftitution, their firft care is to implant a trong
affection and preference to their own language: and this they
effect, by making it, as much as poffible, eafy and pleafant of
acquifition. Upon this principle their children are taught, pro-
feffedly, to read, whatever be the ſtyle or fubject of difcourie, in
one uniform, unvarying firain, and to pronounce every word in
abfolute monotony, tho' directly repugnant to the genius of
their tongue, which, on many occafions, requires different in-
flections of voice in one and the fame word, to make it even in-
telligible. They think the total abfence of all tones, in the cafet
of learners, preferable to ſuch as are falfe, and difagreeable,
which they muft inevitably contract, on any other foundation,
from ignorant, unqualified teachers; and they hold it eafier on
this ground, afterwards, to introduce the true pronunciation,
which is ftrictly attended to in their Academies eftablished by
authority for the purpoſe, than to erase the bad, and effect the
fame, in any other procedure.
All English words, in their ſeparate ſtate, are pronounced in
a perfect monotony; and require no fort of inflection, or change
of tone, to diſtinguiſh, or afcertain them. We effect this,
upon a much fimpler and more obvious principle, by accent,
which, in our acceptation, confifts merely in an additional
ftrefs, or loudnefs, without the least variation of tone, given
to fome one fyllable in each word, called, for that reafon, the
accented fyllable. But, when our words ftand connected in
fentences,
being of an inferiour fabric, a circumftance which, on account of their cheap-
nefs, our patriotic merchants and captains of fhips in that trade fagacioufig
overlook, have been complained of by foreigners; and, being impofed on them
as Britiſh, have brought our manufactures into diſrepute, and proved extremely
deftructive to our Woollen Staple. Prepared for the event, the French take care
to nick their opportunity, fend off better goods in their own bottoms, and, by
under-felling us, which the cheapneſs of labour enables them to afford, and
by the medium of a freer intercourfe, they depreciate our manufactures, and
procure a ready fale for their own. And yet theſe people accuse the English
of barbarity and want of politenefs!-Much might be faid on this fubject, were
this a proper place for fuch difcuffions.
CRITO MINOR.
( 54 )
fentences, 'tis then we call in the aid of tones, which, affecting
the whole, relatively confidered, are regulated by the emphafis,
and depend upon the fenfe of the propofition, and the concep-
tion and affection of the ſpeakers. In this light, our language
claims pre-eminence. It charms the ear, thro' the operation of
the underſtanding; and, for its moft ftriking beauties, appeals
to the evidence of the heart: if ever a language deſerved
the diftinction, English, in the mouth of a ſkilful ſpeaker,
may justly be ftyled, the language of fentiment.
Hence, we perceive the object of inftruction, in the article of
reading Engliſh, is two-fold.
The first, and moſt indiſpenſable, to acknowlege the words
at fight; which is all the generality conceive, or require of a
reader; and even that, but in a limited and vulgar way.
The fecond, and moft effential, to exprefs the full meaning,
fpirit, and intention of the writer, with propriety, force, and
grace. This gives life and efficacy to the diction; and is that
which conftitutes excellence.
Here we discover the true and regular procefs of teaching,
which has already been pretty largely handled; and few words
will ſerve to decide the reft. The latter of thefe points has an
intimate connection with the former, but implies experience,
judgement, penetration, and feeling; for which confiderations,
it fhould be poftponed, till the fancy, and the understanding
have attained a degree of ftrength. The firſt is more an effort
of memory; and may be fooner attempted. To which end,
the practice of the French, above fet forth, might with pro-
priety be adopted in our infant feminaries; as it perfectly
coincides with the conftitution of our language. Wherefore,
inſtead of rafhly precipitating our children, from their letters,
to the reading of complicated fentences, and connected difcourfe,
the method fhould be, to exerciſe them, for a feafon, on fingle
words, and plain, independent phraſes, after the manner of
fpelling books, or vocabularies, compiled for the purpofe; in
which the gradations from monofyllables to the feveral orders
of polyfyllables may be regularly, and ftrictly preferved. By
theſe means confining their attention to articulation, and the
due placing of the accent, which are the fole object in words,
feparately taken; and, carefully guarding against, and cor-
recting every propenfity to a vicious tone, or falſe modulation,
they must neceffarily pronounce the language idiomatically true,
as to the words, and be well prepared for a nobler exertion of
their powers, when permitted to try them in fentimental de-
livery.
( )
55)
55 livery. Eafy as this matter may appear, in fpeculation, it will be
found otherwife, on tryal; and will require the niceft, and
moſt unwearied attention of a perfon of ſkill and ability. To
the pupil it promifes fingular advantages; as nothing can be
a greater preſervative againſt a Brogue, more efficacious to form
his ear, or more immediately tend to correct a patavinity
of utterance, or eradicate a vicious accent. The impatience
of parents may be alfo better gratified in this way; as the
young learner will acquit himfelf, at least, as well, whenever
called upon, as he would, on the fame ftanding in the old
beaten method.
The question now may be, what particular books are moſt
proper for the uſe of beginners. For children in an advanced
period there is ample variety, but in the earlier ftages they la-
bour under many inconveniencies in this point. Whatever has
been hitherto attempted for them, has been in general, wretch-
edly defective, both as to matter and ftyle. The late Mr.
Newberry, of Pater-Nofter-Row, London, is the only perfon,
who has done any thing confiderable to the purpoſe. He in-
deed, has fhewed his humanity, and good fenfe, in conforming
his genius to the tender capacities of infants. Moft of his pub-
lications of this fort, are perfectly well calculated to answer their
ends; and, their merit is greatly enhanced by the number of
curious cuts which they contain, ingeniouſly adapted, and well
executed on Copper. Gay's Fables may fucceed thefe; or fome
other eafy book of the like nature, which, at once, affords in-
ftruction and delight. However it may be adviſeable, to ſelect
the fables, or paffages, to be read, rather than take them in
the order they lie; as few books admit of an indifcriminate
perufal in the early feafons of life. In the next place, a col-
lection of the kind we now offer to the public may be intro-
duced with advantage; which, properly taught, and thoroughly
digefted, we prefume, will give them fach a maſtery in the
theory and practice of elocution, that, with a little application,
they may read the most difficult authours in our language, with
fatisfaction and pleafure, both to themfelves, and others. The
alphabetic language has already been complained of; our me-
thod of pointing, which is purely a modern contrivance, is
equally imperfect, and not at all calculated for the great purpoſes
of delivery: fome better provifion fhould be made for them in
that article; but little effectually can be expected, till PUBLIC
READING AND SPEAKING are better understood, and regularly
Atudied, and eſtabliſhed as an ART. We have in ufe but about
24
half
156
1- 56 )
half a dozen marks for paufes, partially made out, and indeter-
minately applied; a fcanty allowance to anſwer the vaſt variety
we have occafion for, and actually make uſe of in diſcourſe;
which are alfo abundantly multiplied, according to the fubject,
and the ftyle; the humour, and affections of the ſpeaker.
Children, therefore, fhould not only be restrained to compofi-
tions, faited to their years, and within their comprehenfion;
but it would be an eligible expedient, to have fome of their
books printed entirely without ftops; which would oblige them
to attend to the fenfe, as their only guide; and, as to the tones,
nature would much better fupply them, from the fame fource,
than any afiftance they can receive from vague, and imperfect
rules; which in modern ufage, like an ignis fatuus, tend only
to lead them aftray. There is nothing, of this fort, as yet
extant, among us; for which reafon, we have ventured fome
examples, interfperfed in the fubfequent pages, by way of Praxis,
for the farther probation and emolument of the learner.
·
It has been an argument, warmly efpoufed by many, that
children fhould learn to read, in works of profe only. That
poetry is quite improper; of little ufe, in itself; and, in its
very nature, leads to a formal, puritanical cant, or an affected
theatrical mouthing, equally ridiculous, and difgufting and fo
far from aiding, utterly confounds, and fpoils their reading
profe, which is what they have moſt need of; the ftyle of bufi-
nefs, and all the material concerns of life. However plauſible,
this may appear, on a curfory view, perhaps there never was
a pofition built upon more erroneous principles, or one, which
more evidently fhews, our flender acquaintance with the ART OF
READING, Or our total ignorance of the real nature, and conftitu-
tion of language. No utterance, can be agreeable to a cultiva-
ted, and correct ear; but what is Arictly conformable to the laws
of harmony; and regulated upon the niceft principles of pro-
portion. The illuftration of theſe laws and principles, in point
of ftyle, is peculiarly the province of poets; they are the re-
gifters of quantity; and, among all civilized and polite people,
it is from them, pronunciation has conftantly taken its courfe.
They claim this privilege, as their hereditary right: for in the
opinion of the learned, verfe is the most ancient way of writing.
The man of profe, we fpeak but of the modern, addreffing
himſelf to the underſtanding, is wholly indifferent to every.
object, but that of making himself intelligible. Unfolicitous
of the graces of delivery, he not only overlooks them, but is
often
( 57 )
often fo abfolutely a firanger to any thing of the fort, that 'tis
highly probable, it would be a talk to him, to read his own
productions. On the contrary, the poet not only endeavours
to expreis the fentiment clearly, but to intereft the fancy,
and the paffions, by the union of the vocal powers, and all the
ornaments of diction. His object is the charms of found, and
the effects of a beautiful and harmonious arrangement. The very
effence of verfification implies an addrefs to the ear; of which
idea if the poet one moment lofes fight, it robs his compofi-
tion of a beauty. Hence, fome fyllable-mongers cloy us with
a perpetual round of the fame modulation; and bad readers
difguft us with their uniform, infipid monotony: had they been
verſed in the Art of Pronunciation, the writer would have en-
gaged us with the diverfity and aptitude of his numbers; and
the reader would have done him juftice in a fuitable delivery.
The Dancing-mafter confines his fcholar to prefcribed forms,
and a meaſured ftep, and never dreams of beating the freets
for the graces of deportment; the Equerry exerciſes his charge,
and conveys the manœuvres of horsemanship in the mcnage;
not by travelling highways, or driving headlong thro' the
country and the Mafter of Pronunciation and Language beft
inculcates the principles, and perfections, of his art, where its
excellencies moſt abound; in the works of poets and rhetori-
cians. But, for thoſe who are not mafters, they do well to decry
fuch compofitions, as, otherwife, they certainly but the more
injure the unfortunate learner, and expofe themſelves.
But, whatever be the exceptions, the elegancies, and per-
fections of language, and confequently of delivery, are beft
exemplified in poetry; * which makes it the more furprizing,
that reading our poets, has no regular place in the education.
of our youth. The celebrated authour of the Oratorian Inftitu-
tion avers, that the foundation of reading ſhould be laid, by
beginning with the poets; above all, he prefers Homer
and Virgil, on account of the learning, and morality of their
poems. He recommends, alfo, the Tragic-writers; and felect
paffages from the Lyric; particularly Horace: Comedies he
thinks of the greateft ufe, in this refpect, if they are well
written, and not difgraced with any thing of indecent, or im-
moral tendency. He proves, they contribute infinitely towards
Eloquence, as including all ranks, and characters of men.
I
*Os tenerum pueri balbumque poeta figurat.
But,
( 58 )
But, as the buſineſs is not to make players, but orators, who
fhall affert and defend the rights and privileges of their coun-
trymen, and fellow-citizens, he advifes, that the ſpeeches from
poems and plays be carefully ftudied, and fpoken, with life,
energy, and grace; but without the fineffe and oftentatious
mummery of the ſtage.* With the fame view, in aid of theſe,
he ftrongly recommends Mufic; as, without the knowlege of
all fuch accompliſhments, there can be no perfection in Elo-
quence.+
The best poet in our language, for this purpofe, is Milton;
yet, he has fome particularities; fo, indeed, have they all, as
well as their predeceffors of Greece, and Rome; the meaſure
oftentimes reducing them to deviations, and reftraints, ufually
fignified by the term, poetic-licence. The best tragic writer,
Shakeſpear; the beſt comic, alſo, with his cotemporary Johnſon;
who befides is enriched with the fpoils of the claffics. Our modern
comedies, I fpeak it with regret, if you except two or three of
Cumberland's, Goldfmith's, and a very few others; are wholly
unfit for the Eye and Ear of youth. Befide the more ancient
Lyrics well known, we have, with many others, a Maſon, an
Akenfide, and a Gray. How far foever the modern poets
may be imagined to fall fhort of the ancient, in other refpects;
yet, in respect of afcertaining the true found of words, they
have an advantage over them, by the ufe of Rhyme; which,
tho' confeffedly introduced as a fupplement, to their lack of
fkill in numbers, yet does not want its beauties, and is befides
of excellent ufe, in determining ambiguous founds: Could we
prove our writers, always chafte in this particular, their authority
muft be abfolute. 'Tis true, the reading of verfe is more difficult
to teach, than that of profe; and indifputably gives the young
practitioner a ftronger bias to falfe cadence ;
but that,
tho' it may fcandalize the ignorant, will be guarded against
by the kilful thus the quantities, and every other beauty of
expreffion, found in the poets, will of courſe be; obferved, in
reading profe. Confequently, if we excell in verfe, we cannot be
at a lois to do the fame in profe, alfo; but the contrary is by
no means the cafe; neither does it hence follow, that we fhould
bend all our application, to any one fpecies of compofition,
to the neglect, or prejudice of the other.
:
* Quintilian de lectione Pueri, Lib. 1. cap. 5.
+ Ib. Lib. 1. cap. 8.
As
( 59 )
As a farther provifion, the Beauties of the Tatler, Spectator,
Guardians, Rambler, &c. Select Hiftories, and Biography,
will come properly in their turn. Fables of every kind have
been generally esteemed, highly proper for children; but Fairy
Tales, and Feats of Inchantment, are very objectionable; un-
leſs the inſtruction, they are faid to contain, be minutely can-
vaffed, and carefully diveſted of its allegoric robeings. Novels,
and ſtories of Love and Gallantry, are by no means eligible,
at leaft, till reafon has gained ftrength to diſtinguiſh;
better for them never to read, than to dabble in fuch trash.
The portraits, they give of life, are forced, extravagant, and
delufive; but even admitting a refembiance, they are too
warmly, and luxurioufly coloured, to leave the mind untainted.
Thus far having copiously delineated the duties of a pro-
feffor of the AKT OF READING; and gradually unfolded the
gate, which naturally opens to perfection, in the lait place, it
may illuftrate and inforce the theory, to take it in a collected
view, as applied to fome particular authour. For instance,
Milton, whom we have already ventured to pronounce the beſt
poet in our language; and, if we confider the vastness of his
fubject, and the copious and fublime manner, in which he has
fupported it, we may give him the laurel, not only in our
own nation, but, preferably to all the writers, that ever exifted
in any age or country.* Whoever attempts to teach that afto-
niſhing
I z
2
* Our Milton, confeffdly, has made great use of the ancients; he often
condefcends to burrow, but never links beneath them; every thing, he touches,
turns to gold; and, Aampt with his imperial image, receives new Luftre, and
Value from the mint. Yet, even he, the divine Milton, fometimes copies.
them, too fervilely, and falls beneath himſelf. In the fourth bo k, the difco-
very of the Arch-deceiver, at the ear of Eve, and his reception, and fubfequent
conteft with the warriour Angel, is a mafter-piece; conceived with wonderful
addrefs; and worked up with equal judgement, and fublimity: Every circum-
ftance, that may affect and intereft the reader, is introduced; Heaven and
Earth are witnefs of the event! and all Creation involved in the catastrophe!
Nature fhudders, and ftands fufpended, in dreadful expectation!
Brevity will not admit us to cite the whole; but the following are the paffages
more particularly alluded to.
The angelic fquadron bright,
Turn'd fiery red, fharpening in mooned horns
Their Phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported ſpears-
On the other fide, Satan alarm'd,
Colle&ing all his night, dilated food,
Like Tenerif, or Atlas unremov'd,
His ftature reach'd the fky, and on his creft
Sate Horrour plum'd;·
Now
( 60 )
nishing performance, the Paradife Loft, undertakes an exten-
five talk it requires knowlege, capacity, and talents, rarely
to be met with yet, not that work alone, in a porportional
degree, the fame requifites, the fame modes of procedure, are
incidental, in the teaching of all others.
The teacher muſt be perfectly matter of his authour's Phraſeo-
logy, and able, in clear and expreffive definitions, to convey
to his pupils, the various acceptations, of all the terms and
words he ufes, literal and figurative; he muft minutely inform
them in grammatical principles; teach them to regulate the
tranfpofitions; fupply the ellipfes; and to confider and deter-
mine his ftyle, in all its niceft relations, and dependencies: he
muſt make them well acquainted with the principles, and laws
of
Now dreadful deeds
Might have enfued: not only paradife
In this commotion, but the ftairy cope
Of heaven, perhaps, or all the elements,
At leaft, had gone to wreck, difturb'd, and torn
With violence of this conflict, had not foon
The Eternal, to prevent fuch horrid fray,
Hung forth in heaven his golden fcales, yet ſeen
Betwixt Aftræa, and she Scorpion fign, &c.
In fituations, critical, and important as this, what, but omnipotence, could
extricate the poet? Horace, in fuch cafes, authorizes fupernatural agency:
Nec deus interfit nifi dignus vindice nodus. Homer, having reduced his Grecks
and Trojans, to fomething of a fimilar fituation, reprefents Jupiter, weighing
the fates of the combatants, and fo puts an end to a bloody engagement; as
here Milton, in imitation of Homer, defcribes the Almighty: yet, however
admiffable, on the Pagan fyftem, where all was doubt, confufion, and obfcurity,
the conceit of metamorphofing a number of ftars, into a pair of fcales, to an
enlightened age, and in a chriftian performance, where the Deity himself is
perfonally introduced, and where the prime orders of Angels are made the
actors, is indefenfibly abfurd; a puerile Alimfey pun, upon the word libra, a
fymbolical term, uſed by Aftronomers, to denote one of the conftellations of
the Zodiac. Nor is the notion of fufpending the World, in a golden chain, in
the fecond book, borrowed likewife from Homer, however allegorized, a bit
more reconcilable to nature and truth; how poor and unphilofophical! unpoetic
and even contradictory! compared with his own glorious idea of the fame,
in another place,
And Earth felf-balanced on her centre hung.
Allowing the Ancients all their merits, and all the advantages we can poffibly
derive from them, if the genius of Milton could not efcape the contagion
of example, it fhews us, how cautious we ought to be, in preparing the minds
of youth, before we allow them fuch high ſeaſoned viands.
( 61 )
of verfification, and what is understood by Profody, an article
of the laſt importance, both to fpeakers and writers, though
altogether a myſtery to the many, and overlooked by all our
granimarians; yet, wanting that, the judgement, and wonder-
ful contrivance of the poet, in the application, variety, and
beauty of the numbers of Paradife Loft; "making the found an
echo to the fenfe;" is in a great meafure thrown away: he muft
call in the aid of logic, to detect and expofe the fophiftry and
falſe reaſoning of the fallen fpirits; his knowlege of the fcrip-
tures, and theologic matters, will often be brought to the telt,
as well as his fill in the fciences, rhetoric, aftronomy, phyfics;
geography, ancient and modern; hiftory, political, civil, mili-
tary, and natural; to illuftrate beauties, determine allufions,
and inveſtigate facts: he will often have occafion to exerciſe his
knowlege in antiquities, ethics, and metaphyfics; he mult
fometimes converfe with the mechanic arts, and anon traverſe
the airy regions of fiction and romance. Heraldry too fhould
lend her aid; neither muft he be a ftranger to the fifter arts,
painting and mufic, to follow his authour, "while he purfues
things unattempted yet, in profe or rhyme:" nor muft he stop
even here, the teft and confummation of all remain behind;
he muft exemplify his precepts, and demonftrate to his pupils,
in his own practice, the powers and charms of a juft delivery,
and fet before them a living pattern, for their imitation. In this
light we may apply to Milton, what the Duke of Buckingham,
perhaps lefs defervedly, faid of Homer:
Read Milton once, and you can read no more;
For all books elfe, appear fo mean, ſo poor,
Verfe will feem profe; but ſtill perfift to read,
And Milton will be all the books you need.
A circumftance may now probably occur, which will need ac-
counting for.
In the infant courfe of reading, above pre-
fcribed, there is no mention made of the Holy Scriptures: this
did not happen thro' neglect, or overfight; but defign. I would
have the facred books thoroughly ftudied, and accurately un-
derítood: but there is a time for all things.
a time for all things. The vulgar me-
thod of putting firft, the New Teftament, and then the Old, into
the hands of children, for the purpoſe of teaching to read, has
prevailed time immemorial, tho', on the fmalleft reflection, it
must appear infufficient, unnatural and abfurd; and certainly
the
( 62 )
the moft prophane, if not impious practice, that could be de-
viſed. Indeed there is ſcarcely any thing, that fo plainly fhews
how callous our minds may be rendered, by cuftom; and alto-
gether infenfible of impreffions, from the moſt intereſting and
facred principles in nature, thofe of Religion, and the Happineſs
of our children.
All attempts at reformation, I well know, are looked upon by
the many, with an evil eye; and great are his risks, who ven-
tures to attack current opinions, and aims to explode old efta-
bliſhments, however ridiculous; the writer, therefore, does not
build upon his own authority, in this cafe; but begs leave to
fupport his idea of the matter, in the words of a learned, and
fagacious champion, in the cauſe of reaſon and literature; who
has worn out a long, and honourable life, in the fervice of the
public.
When we confider the books of the Old and New Teftaments,
as facred writings; as containing the oracles of God; as dictated
by divine inspiration; as fraught with the highest myteries;
and, as intended folely, for the inftruction, and perfection of
our underſtanding, in the fublime notions, and doctrines of
Religion, and Revelation, will it not appear an amazing thing
to any one, but a chriitian, to fee thefe writings made the
vulgar praxis; the common thefis of puerile erudition, to every
child; to every fenfelefs boy and girl; by every ignorant, old
ſchool dame, in England? Who does not know, in what a
religious, and facred eftimation, the books of rituals, and re-
ligious myfteries, are held by Pagans? what a peculiar veneration,
the Koran demands from the Mahometans? and how greatly
the writings of the Old Teftament are rever'd, even by the Jews
themſelves? theſe all regard fuch writings, as the archives of
heaven; the pande&s of divine revelation; and therefore facred
to the priests alone, and become their province, to explain, and
teach, to the common people; and even here children, and all
without underſtanding, were never looked upon as interelted, in
fuch an expofition: fuch a high regard for the facred name
Jehovah had the infidel Jews, that they fuffered no man to pro-
nounce it, but the high priest, and him only, once in a year,
when in the San&tum Sanctorum; but in chriftian ſchools, how
is not only that, but all the other facred names of God, and
Jefus Chrift, made the fubject of childish babling, and ſchool
dame bawling, every hour of the day? How are thofe Scriptures
of truth; thofe written laws of God, which God himſelf has
fo
( 63 )
fo enjoined us to lay up in our hearts, torn to pieces, and
trampled under our feet, while children? How are thoſe wri-
tings, which were intended to give the greateſt pleaſure, and
folace to the mind, often made the cauſe of bodily pain and
wretchednefs to children! How are we reproached, and whip'd
in our non-age, for not being able to read, what fhould only
merit us praiſe and efteem, for underflanding when we are
men! and is it not extremely probable, that the book we have
fo frequently bedriveled, daubed, and pulled to pieces, at ſchool,
fhould become the object of our future indifference, contempt
or averfion? and may not the grounds of Deiſm and Infidelity, in
general, be very reaſonably deduced from hence, and therefore,
finally may we not look upon this cuſtom of teaching youth to
read, by the holy Bible, as an abfurd profanation, and the moſt
fordid abufe of the fame?
Add to this, the infufficiency of this method, to answer any
fach end. Can a child be ſuppoſed to learn to read, by the
Tefiament, or Bible; where the fubject, the ſtyle, and the defign
of the book, are quite of a contrary nature? Is it not very pre-
poflerous to learn to read, without understanding thofe very
books, which require to be read, with the greateft underftand-
ing to pretend to acquire a faculty of reading eafily, by
books, which, of all others, require the greatest Art of Reading,
to be read at all well? But fuch is the effect of cuftom, and in-
veterate ufage, and fuch the weakneſs of human nature, that
we fuffer our Bibles to be proftituted, unconcernedly, to a bafe
and mercenary intereft, while we are perfuaded it redounds
greatly to the good of our children; and that they are, by fuch
a method, made chriftians and ſcholars at once. The general
confequence of all which is, that when our youth are grown
up, they appear fuch hopeful proficients, that whenever they
read or indite, we feldom fail to laugh, if they belong to others;
or bluſh, if they be our own.
Should there ſtill remain a doubt in the minds of any, that
putting the Scriptures indifferently, as a mere ſchool book, into
the hands of children, is a profanation of thofe facred repofito-
ries of Religion, let them ſeriouſly attend to what the learned
and pious Locke remarks on this head, and, if they have Ears to
hear, they can no longer hefitate.
As for the Bible, fays he, which children are ufually em-
ployed in, to exercife and improve their talent in reading, I
hink the promifcuous reading it through, by chapters, as they
lie
( 64 )
lie in order, is fo far from being of any advantage to children,
either for the perfecting their reading, or principling their Re-
ligion, that perhaps a worſe could not be found; for what
pleature, or encouragement can it be to a child, to exerciſe
himſelf in reading thoſe parts of a book, where he underſtands
nothing? and how little are the law of Mofes, the fong of
Solomon, the prophecies in the Old, and the epiftles and
apocalypfe in the New Teftament, fuited to a child's capacity?
and though the hiftory of the Evangelifts, and the As have
fomething eafier, yet taken altogether, it is very difproportional
to the understanding of children. I grant that the principles
of Religion are drawn from thence, and in the words of the
Scripture, yet none fhould be propoſed to a child, but fuch as
are fuited to a child's capacity and notions; but it is far from
this, to read through the whole Bible, and that for reading
fake and what an odd jumble of thoughts, muft a child have
in his head, (if he has any at all, fuch as he fhould have, about
Religion) who, in his under-age, reads all the parts of the
Bible, indifferently, as the word of God, without any other
diſtinction? I am apt to think, that this, in fome men, has been
the very reafon, why they never had clear and diftin&t thoughts
of it, all their life time.
Having, in the courfe of the precedent pages, endeavoured to
fhew the difadvantages we labour under, from the neglect of our
native language; the neceffity of a reformation, in that article;
and the importance of good Reading and Speaking to the ftate,
and to fociety: Having afferted the excellence of the English
language; briefly explained its chief properties; and laid open
the efficient caufes of the erroneous notions, conceived of our
tongue; with the numerous imperfections attending our public
delivery: Having prefumed to draw the line of parental duty;
to recommend a courfe and mode of teaching; and to afcertain
the requifite qualifications of profeffors: we now proceed to the
preceptive part, for the more immediate ftudy, and improve-
ment of learners. This, however, is not a courfe calculated for
abfolute beginners, or mere novices in Letters; fuch are, in
themfelves, incapable of deriving benefit from written inftruc-
ions; it is fuppofed they are previously well broken, and duely
prepared to receive them. Upon the whole, the attempt is for
the most part new, but meant no farther decifive, than as it
proves reaſonable, and confiftent; all which is fubmitted to the
candour and difcernment of the Judicious.
庐
​
C & X # # Z Z X 5 9 # # C ? / \
* 3 * # 6 W \ $ 9
59
ΑΝ
E S S
A Y
ON THE ART OF
READING, &c.
SECTION II.
COÓJÆRSS CODE SCON OREGONDO OURS OUTS QUAN DENG LOUD CODS DANS CATS 00S00095 vaak neo-s
1
PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS.
W¹
HEN, in the beginning, the Almighty Architect
created this immenfe globe which we inhabit, it
was not merely to occupy a vacant nich in the uni-
verfe; but to ends more fuitable to Divine Wiſdom and
Benevolence: How wonderfully conftructed for the accom-
modation of an intellectual Being! He furrounded it with
an extenfive atmoſphere, the fpring of action, and grand
principle of life: He fupplied it with water, alfo, proporti
oned and diſpoſed ſo as to minifter to Human neceffities, by
miſts and dews from heaven, and by ſprings and rivers from the
earth The ſurface of the earth He rendered folid, to affift
motion; and clothed it with vegetation, to charm the fight, re-
=gale the fmell, nourish the body, and establish health: The
azure arch above He embelliſhed with luminaries, to diſtin-
K
guifk
( 66 )
guifh the viciffitudes of labour and of reft, and to bring about.
that variety of feafons, fo neceffary to promote a variety of de-
light: The feas, the air, and the earth He replenishes with in-
numerable animals, all good and beneficial in their peculiar
kinds: And, laſt of all, as the end and completion of his
work, he forms Man, proprietor of his creation, and affigns to
him dominion over all things, But this was not enough; as a
fuperiour teftimony of his goodness and regard, he endows
him with the power of reflection, and the faculty of communi-
cating his ideas and affections, by fpeech; thus diftinguishing
him, from every other creature, by his own exprefs image and
fimilitude. By theſe fingular endowments we are enabled to
teftify our gratitude, and render praife and adoration to our
heavenly Father, from whom we derive fuch inestimable be-
nefits. As created Beings, we are by nature, dependent and im-
perfect; but, poffeffed of improveable talents, 'tis finful to ne-
glect the means, or let flip the opportunity of cultivating them.
Wherever liberty yet furvives, and arts and fciences flouriſh,
the earth proves ftill a Paradife; and fuch it muſt ever continue,
where virtuous principles, and the bleffing of fpeech, which
alone can fuftain them, are duely cultivated. To this great
end, the writings of wife and good men, have ever been
found particularly conducive. But, as the language of books,
tho' a bleffing, confeffedly, next to that of ſpeech, is limited in
its nature, and inadequate in its conftruction, without com-
petent ſkill, pains, and practice, the Art of Reading muft ever
remain in a very languishing ftate, and, confequently, the no-
bleft purpoſes for which it was inftituted be defeated.
Thefe important confiderations, which must be obvious to
the comprehenfion of our youngest readers, fhould excite them
to apply affiduously to this moſt effential branch of education,
the first and principal ftep, by which they rife to be good men,
and rational chriftians; ufeful to the ftate, and to fociety, as
well as to themſelves; and ornaments to their name and coun-
try. Theſe are motives which fhould induce them in their
earlieſt years, not to fquander away on trifling, and idle
amuſements, their precious time, which, once elapfed, is irre-
trieveable; but eagerly to feize, and make the best use of every
moment allotted for private meditation, conftantly bearing in
mind this inconteftable maxim, that all books are much eafier
got off by rote, than read; for thouſands are fluent enough
in repeating what they neither feel nor comprehend. A truth
to
( 67 )
to which, as experience gains ground, and knowlege advances,
they will hereafter freely and cordially ſubſcribe.
It has been elsewhere obſerved, that the purpoſes to be anſwered
by reading, are chiefly three: The acquifition of knowlege; the
affifting of the memory, to treaſure up that knowlege; or, the
communicating of it to others. The firſt two, may be done by
filent perufal; the laft, requires reading aloud; and this laſt
alone is the fubject of our prefent attention.
In the foregoing part of this effay * has been fet forth what
is to be underſtood by the ART OF READING, which the at-
tentive learner will do well to implant in his memory, in fub-
ftance, as follows: READING is the art of pronouncing the
thoughts of others, or our own, exhibited in viſible characters, as if
the jame then effentially operated in our own minds, and were the re-
Jult of immediate conception. It is of the utmoft confequence, in
whatever we undertake, to have clear and correct ideas of
what we are about, but particularly in this. For it will be
found, that the rules and notions imbibed, be their tendency
good or evil, and the habits contracted in the profecution of
it, have powerful influence over our delivery, ever afterwards;
not only in point of reading, but as Speakers alſo. Hence, in
the prefent ftate of things, the arts of Reading and Speaking
cannot be properly treated feparately, but must go together
hand in hand; the latter being as it were the fuperftructure and
perfection of the former; both included under the word Elo-
cution, the principles of which we are now to explain.
The term Elocution, like many others, has been variouſly
applied; fome including in it, the whole Oratorial Art; others
extending it only to the diction or language, in which the
Orator conveys his thoughts; and many learned Moderns,
without troubling themſelves about its Latin original, confine
it to the utterance, or manner of delivery: In which laft ac-
ceptation, it is adopted in this Effay, agreeably to the following
definition.
Elocution, is the juft and graceful management of the voice,
countenance, and gefture in fpeaking. Where thofe faculties are
feen in a ftate of perfection, and the internal feelings, mutually
correfpond in exact unifon, the refult is a correct and lively
delivery.
We have more than once afferted, that the written language, is
by no means calculated to anſwer the purpoſe of reading aloud;
And it may convince our young Readers, of the neceffity of be-
* See page 38 of this Effay.
flowing
( 68 )
contains no
ftowing a little pains on this branch of ftudy, fummarily to point
out wherein the chief imperfections confift. The following ex-
tract, from the Lectures on Elocution, where the topic is more
fully difcuffed, may fuffice for the purpose, at prefent.
"The Written Language," as there obferved,
viſible marks of articles, which are the moſt important of all
others, to a juft delivery. A just delivery confiſts in a diſtinct
articulation of words, pronounced in proper tones, fuitably
varied to the fenfe, and the emotions of the mind; with due
obfervation of accent; of emphafis, in its feveral gradations;
of reſts or paufes of the voice, in proper places and well mea-
fured degrees of time; and the whole accompanied with ex-
preffive looks, and fignificant gefture." In this is contained.
the fum and fubftance of all that can be faid on the article of
reading. But, as is particularly the cafe, in works of merit
and importance, it will require frequent peru fals, and atten-
tive confideration before the learner can become mafter of it;
and without that, our ftudies are trifling and ineffectual.
Now, of all thefe ingredients, not one of which can be ſpared
from a good delivery, there are but two, that are at all re-
garded in the Art of Writing; and thoſe are, articulate founds
or words, which are marked by letters; and ftops, or paufes of
the voice, which are marked by little figures, and tittles. And
even in theſe points, much greater regard has been paid to the
two firſt uſes of written language, than to the laft; to the filent
reader, than to him who is to read aloud to others; as may be
ſeen by examining, in the first inftance, in what manner words
are fpelt; in which the derivation and meaning of the words,
are more confidered, than any direction of the proper founds,
reſulting from the arrangement of the letters. In this reſpect
we are ſo exceedingly loofe and irregular, that even where no
end can be anſwered by it, the words in general, as prefented
to the eye, would be fo far from producing the true founds,
that if they were pronounced exactly, as they are written, we
fhould not know them to be of our language; and all paffages
fo read, and not according to the manner ufed in difcourfe,
muſt appear to be nothing but jargon. With regard to the fe-
cond article of written language; I mean the viſible marks of
paufes, and reſts of the voice, they are by no means more ac-
curate, in regard to pointing out fuch as are uſed in diſcourſe,
than the words are, by the ſpelling, to point out their found.
And as they are managed, have proved the chief cauſe of ſome
of our greatest imperfections in reading. Teachers, indeed,
have
( 69 )
}
have not only been more negligent in perfecting pupils in the
right uſe of theſe, but in their method of teaching, have laid
down fome falfe rules, under the influence of which, it is im-
poffible, that any one can read naturally. But with respect to
the other articles of tones, accent, emphafis and gefture, there
are no viſible marks to ferve as guides to thefe. And as theſe
latter muſt be allowed to be the fources of every thing which is
pleaſurable, or forcible in delivery; and to contain in them,
all the powers of ftrongly impreffing the mind, captivating the
fancy, roufing the paffions, and delighting the ear; it muit al-
fo be allowed, that the moſt effential articles to a good delivery,
have been wholly left out of the Graphic Art.
Hence we gather, not only the difficulties which the young
learner has to encounter, in his road to perfection in this delight-
ful art, but alſo, the feveral points which demand his particular
care and application, compriſed under three diftin& heads; the
voice, the countenance, and the gefture: And, firſt, we con-
fider the voice, fo far as the organs of fpeech are concerned.
A good delivery, in this fenfe of the word, depends upon a
due attention to the following articles;
Articulation; Pronunciation; Accent; Emphafis; Tones,
or Notes of the Speaking Voice; Key or Pitch, and Manage-
ment of the Voice.
A good articulation confifts in giving every letter in a fylla-
ble its due proportion of found, according to the most approved
cuftom of pronouncing it, and making fuch a diftinction be-
tween the fyllables of which words are compofed, that the ear
fhall, without difficulty, acknowlege their number, and perceive,
at once, to which fyllable each letter belongs. When theſe points
are not obferved, the articulation is proportionally defective.
A good articulation, then, primarily depends upon a tho-
rough knowlege of the alphabetic or elementary founds of
words, and the faculty of uttering them with perfect facility and
precision. This Rhetorician's call Orthoepy, and is, properly, a
part of Grammar; but, as all our treaties on that fubject sem
greatly defective, and erroneous on this head, till fomething
more complete appears, we fhall here offer a few introductory
obfervations to ſupply the defect.
but
The fudy, my young reader, is not an eafy one;
about it in earnest, and apply, with like atuour, but a moderate
proportion of the time, which you fquander away in idle amufe-
ments, the path will become fo eafy and full of fweetness, that
all your other pleafures will be accounted nothing. And, left
เ
you
( 70 )
you ſhould be difcouraged in your fetting out, let us premife
a few words by way of previous information and advice.
All arts have their appropriate terms and peculiar modes of
expreffion, commonly called technical terms; which, though a
wiiter fhould not pedantically affect, in many cafes, he has no
alternative; they are not only unavoidable, but requifite; and
in their precife ufe and application greatly confifts the merit of
every didactic performance. It is, therefore, in the first place,
incumbent on the learner to make himfelf thoroughly maker of
all fuch terms, fo as to have clear and precife ideas annexed to
them, wherever they occur. without which he can never make
any ufeful proficiency; and, farther, to have his memory fo
effectually and familiarly poffeffed of them, that they may be al-
ways ready at a call, which will facilitate his progrefs, and ren-
der every part fmooth and pleafing. I urge this the more ftre-
nuously, becauſe, in the courſe of my experience, I have known
numbers of both iexes, who have been negligent in that reſpect,
groping in the dark for a length of years, and weary out them-
felves and their teachers in fruitless application, who were,
otherwife, by nature formed to excell. In fcientific ftudies,
where the principles are few and obvious, it is more parti-
cularly to be feared: and, the more familiarly and explicitly
they are treated, the more likely is it to betray the unwary pu-
pil into an indolent inattention. What is, at firft fight, felf-
evident and easily comprehended, is generally as eafily forgot-
ten: for, it by no means follows, that our memory fhall keep
pace with our conceptions. Where impreffions are faint, they
are fpeedily obliterated; and the fmallest point, inadvertently
omitted, may entangle us in endless confufions; making that
infurmountably abflrufe, which, in itself, is perfectly intelli-
gible and confiftent. Hence we learn the propriety of frequent
repetitions, and the neceflity of dwelling upon thoſe minutia
which youth and inexperience are apt to look upon as trifling
and infignificant. Hence we fee fo many ftop fhort in the
midst of their career, and, with rooted difguft, give up, in def-
pair, many highly ufeful and ornamental acquirements, which
might have been thoroughly mastered, and with infinitely lefs
pains, in half the time, by a regular process. Hence that infa-
able craving for new books, and that pernicious defultory ha-
bit of riding pot through all, without gleaning the fmalleft real
advantage from any. And hence, that herd of felf-important
fmutterers, who, vainly fetting up for univerfal knowlege, bolt
ut their crudities on every occafion, and make their fhame
their
( 71 )
their glory. Theſe ſkimmers of fcience never dip below the
furface, but make up in effrontery what they fall fhort in
depth. You find them moft commonly fluttering among the
women, and arrogating confequence to which they are indeed
flenderly entitled; yet, plumed in fantaftic fuperiority, they ar-
raign, to their faces, the vanity of the fex, and female imper-
fection is the perpctual theme of their fupercilious difquifition.
They never once dream how much themſelves are objects of
contempt, and that, in their own fweet perfons, they exhibit
ftriking examples of a far more ridiculous fpecies of deformity.
Never let our little readers be tempted to fuch impertinence;
but let them apply with diligence, and found the utmost depths
of whatever they undertake. They will find it neceffary to
learn much, in order to know a little true wifdom will teach
them modefty; and the advantages of a good education will
implant in their minds humanity and tenderness to thoſe who
have been lefs happy in that particular.
Now, refuming our theory, we fhall firſt, as adviſed by the
judicious Locke, endeavour to eftablish the meaning of our
terms, and include, by the way, fuch other collateral matters
as may illuftrate and confirm the doctrine advanced: In doing
which, we fhall purfue the order confonant to human percep-
tion, which firſt views things in the aggregate, and thence pro-
ceeds to examine and deduce their principles.
Our fubject at
large, the reader will doubtless bear in mind, is Human Speech,
of which we propofe the following definition. †
*
Speech is that faculty, peculiar to rational creatures, by
which we communicate our ideas to each other by means of the
human voice. Voice confifts of two principles, in common
with other fenfible objects, matter, and form. The matter, of
which voice is generated, is fimply air. Its form it is fuppofed
to derive from certain organs, analogous to the reed in the haut-
boy, or baſſoon, between the lungs and the mouth; and the of-
fice of the mouth is to articulate and exhibit the voice in words
which conftitute the fmalleft intelligible parts of fpeech: But
in courfe of gradation, it is requifite to afcertain the charac-
teriflic of words alfo,
*See Harris's Hermes, part 2.
A word
† A Definition is a defcription, concife, clear, full, and peculiar: con-
cife, that it may be easily remembered; clear, that it may be eaſily compre-
hended; full, that it may compriſe all the properties of the ſubject; and
peculiar, that it may not be applicable to any other, and fo introduce ambi-
guity, which it is calculated to prevent.
( 72 )
A word is a certain fignificant part of fpeech, compofed of one
or more articulate founds or fyllables Syllables differ only from
words as a part from the whole, of themſelves conveying no
diftin&t meaning, but as they conftitute words; and thus we
come to the bafis of our enquiries. What is an articulate found?
An articulate found is an audible exertion of the human voice
formed by the organs of ſpeech.
Articulation or diftinct utterance of what kind foever is effected
by a peculiar configuration of fome parts of the mouth, between
the throat and the lips, and thofe parts, from the office fo al-
figned them, we call the organs of speech, which are impowered
to diſcharge their feveral functions by means of the breath, emit.
ted in a peculiar way, as before obferved, through the windpipe.
from the lungs. Thefe, of which the tongue is principal, are the
great inftruinents of fpeech; and upon their true and proper ap-
plication depends its form and perfection.
But let it be noted that the difcriminations of grave and ac-
cute, foft and loud, are primary qualities of oice; and the ri-
fing and falling, or tranfition from one note to another, is owing
to other confiderations, not the effect of fimple articulation.
From this brief analyfis we learn, that all fpeech, as it re-
fpects the intellect, is compofed of words, and thofe again are
refolvable into their conftituent parts or elements, of which we
have a two fold perception; the one through the ear, by means
of the living voice, the other through the eye, by means of cer-
tain vifible marks, called letters. The firft we owe to the boun-
ty of nature; the laft, far fhort in perfection, to the invention of
man. Language is a general term under which we compriſe
both, thus forming itself into two branches, the fpoken and
the written language.
It would be fuperfluous to prove, that, as the written language
is but a tranfcript of that which is fpoken, it ought in every point
to correfpond exactly with its archetype; but this has never been
found the cafe, even in thoſe tongues univerfally allowed the
moft perfect. Nor if we attend to the circumstances of its origin,
the wonderful nature of the difcovery, the avidity with which it
was adopted, and the extenfive reception it has at all times met
with, was perfection to be hoped for. The first inventors of
letters were eſteemed among the greateſt benefactors of mankind,
and had accordingly divine honours paid to them; it was not till
long after, that any improvement was imagined poffible; fo that
imperfection was fanctified by the ftamp of antiquity; and to
break in upon fuch an eſtabliſhed inftitution, was thought a kind
of
( 73 )
Of Letters.
of facrilege. Errors in practice by time become habitual, and
the predilection ever attendant on old cuſtoms makes the taſk of
reformation difficult. The path men have long trodden, from
that very circumſtance, makes them blind to its inconveniences
they will not be beaten out of it; they know no other; will attend
to no other; nay fo extreme is their ſelfiſhneſs in thefe refpects,
they brand every attempt towards improvement, with the for-
midable name of innovation, and ftrive all they can to prevent
even pofterity from reaping the advantage. This accounts
for the prefent imperfect ſtate of letters, and leads us to a farther
confideration of their nature and application.
Letters are certain ſymbols or viſible marks invented to
reprefent thoſe elementary or primary founds of which words
are compofed. In treating of the written language the term
letter is often uſed fynonimously for the found for which it
ſtands, nor need this ufe of the word be objected to, fince
letters are the elements of written words, as articulate founds
are the elements of words ſpoken, of which they are the types.
To this combined acceptation we extend the following fynopfis
of the organs concerned in the utterance of articulate voice.
The breath
material
and
caufe is voice
{
The or-
[Lungs
Afpera arteria
Oral
Larynx
Nafal
gans
which
of
Palate
Uvula
are the
Nofe
Whole mouth,
nether jaw
farticu-
lation
Moveable
The
under lip
The
tongue.
of
organs
formal
of
upper lip
breath
caufe is
which
upper teeth
and
Immoveable interior gums
are
voice
I palate or roof
Lof the mouth,
Thefe feem the organs principally concerned in the formation
of vocal founds, fome indeed in a remote degree, others as
thefe fix,
The
Throat,
Palate,
Tongue,
Teeth,
Lips,
Noftrils.
L
more
( 74 )
more obvious and immediately; but their preciſe uſes and mo-
difications, and what others may also contribute to the fame
purpoſe, is not conclufively determined. Several acute philo-
fophers and anatomiſts have handled the ſubject very copiouſly,
and obliged mankind with their curious reſearches; fome have
gone fo far, as to afcertain all the poffible articulate difcrimina-
tions of which the human voice is capable, a circumſtance of
the utmoſt conſequence to be known and attended to, as what
muſt render the pronunciation of all languages eafily attainable.
To apply thefe principles to the formation of the feveral
founds in the ftructure of our English fpeech we might enter
into a particular detail of the difpofition of the feveral organs
in the formation of our letters. That would be a tedious
proceſs, and a work rather of oftentation than of real advantage,
eſpecially as the moſt accurate verbal deſcription muſt fail to an-
fwer the end, without the affiftance of a kilful perſon whofe
own organs are perfectly adapted, and confirmed in a pure and
elegant pronunciation, to illuftrate and point out their feveral
pofitions by living example. The difagreement alſo among
writers about the ranging of letters under the organs proper for
the formation of each, is another reaſon that forbids it for the
prefent, which difagreement however may be eafily accounted
for, by confidering, that moſt of the letters require more or-
gans than one to their formation.
For example, F and are formed by a conjoined motion of
the under lip upon the upper teeth.
Wherefore if one writer calls F or V labial and another den.
tal, they are both in ſome degree right, and yet both come ſhort
of truth: this is the caſe in ſeveral other confonants, and ftill
more various are the opinions as to vowels, the formation of
them being leſs fenfible than that of confonants.
We come now to examine the nature and ſpecific properties
of elementary founds, and to afcertain their precife number
in our language, whether we have characters to reprefent them
or not. In this cafe the ear and not the eye must be our guide,
for every ſenſe has its peculiar object, of which the other fenfes
can form no adequate conception, and found is directed to the
ear alone.
Should a more ſcientific explanation of what we call ele-
mentary founds, or the elements of language be required, we
have it from Hermes, that the letters (and founds for which they
ftand the repreſentatives) have acquired the name of elements,
in as much as every articulation of every other kind is from them
derived,
( 75 )
derived, and into them refolved. Under their ſmalleſt combi-
nation they produce a fyllable; fyllables properly combined pro-
duce a word; words properly combined produce a fentence;
and fentences properly combined produce an oration or dif
courfe : Hence we learn that
Elements are the first principles, or original effences, of
which any object is compofed.
Hence we alfo learn, that, in order to pronounce an oration,
or difcourfe, with accuracy, it is neceffary that we be perfect
mafter of the words of which they are compofed. This obvi-
oufly fuppofes an equal degree of attention and ability, as to
their constituent parts; and that we are not only perfect in
fyllabication, but well verſed in every thing that reſpects letters,
of which they are compounded: for, it has been remarked,
with no lefs juftice than penetration," That minute change in
principles leads to mighty change in effects; ſo that, well are
principles entitled to our regard, however in appearance they
may be trivial and low." For thus, the mind from a due con-
ception of the firft fimple premiſes, is enabled to trace them
through their various combinations, and to form a more ade-
quate judgement of the whole.
*
Thoſe things alone are fimple, which contain no variety, or
diftinction of effence, but continue uniformly the fame in all
their parts and exemplifications, fo that the ſmalleſt ſubdiviſion
is one entire and perfect whole, complete in itfelf as the great-
eft imaginable extenfion, the only difference being that of
quantity.
Quantity is an univerfal property, common to all fenfible
objects: for, without extenfion, nothing can exift within the
limits of human perception. And, as the fenfes have each
their peculiar objects and modes of perception, to this princi-
ple we muſt ultimately refort, as the bahs of articulate voice,
however modified and preſented to the ear.
Pure and fimple voice would always ftrike the ear in the fame
way, and, confequently, be ufelefs for the purpoſe of focial in-
tercourſe, were it not for the organs of fpeech diſpoſed to give
jt variety of articulation; but, as the circumſtances and tempers
of men are widely different, the form and ftyle of utterance
will be different alfo; as they act with different views, and
under different influence, and as their organs are more or leſs
perfect, which may depend on climate, fituation, or other ex-
ternal accidents, fo will they differ in their mode and powers of
articulation, The founds, which prove congenial and delight-
L 2
fid
( 76 )
ful to fome ears, will be harſh and diffonant to others; much al-
fo on this ſcore fhall we have to charge to vicious imitation, ca-
price, indolence, and unpardonable neglect. And, as the
whole compaſs of articulate difcriminations can hardly ever
fall under the cognizance of, or be neceffary to, any one man, or
afſociation of men, fo there will of courſe arife an option; and
fome will prevail in one place, while others are adopted in
another. Add to this, the mutual intercourfe of different
flates and nations, induced from the confideration of profit,
convenience, or pleaſure, with the changes brought about
by ambition and violence; all which are concurrent caufes of
variety of languages; many, if not all, barbarous enough in
their original, and muft ever remain fo, while the owners.
of them continue illiterate and uncivilized.
But, as ge.
nius breaks forth, and they emerge from their barbarity,
motives of convenience, pleaſure, and emulation will induce
them to cultivate and improve their ſpeech; proportionally
to which they will be reputed in the world, as they will be in
fact, civilized, and rational; and this will lead them in courſe
of time to the inveſtigation of the number and value of their
feveral articulations, as the firſt ſtep to improvement, and the
fource of all that is excellent or valuable in their fpeech.
Every thing that has extenfion is alfo capable of divifibility;
but, fince theſe are original properties of found, and, fince
vocal found derives certain characteristic diftinctions from the
configurations of the organs through which it paffes, the nature
as well as number of thofe diftinctions muft arife from the
relative pofitions of thofe organs in the act of articulation.
Let it be remembered that all articulation is made within the
mouth, from the throat to the lips inclufive, and is diſcrimi-
nated partly by the organs and feveral parts of organs officially
employed, as already mentioned; and partly by the manner and
degree of articulating; which leads to a twofold diſtinction ;
that is, articulation by appulfe, and articulation without ap-
pulfe By appulfe or contact, when one of the moveable or-
gans touches and refts upon fome of the organs immoveable;
without appulfe, when the difcrimination is effected only by
inclination or approach of the moveable organ to the immove-
able, without contact, the paffage through the mouth remain-
ing free and open, and only differing as to extent or wide-
nefs. If there be no appulfe of one organ to another, the
founds or letters, expreffed by other feveral poftures and incli-
nations
( 77 )
nations of the organs, arc vowels. When there is an appulfe
or contact of any of the organs, the founds or letters fo
framed are confonants; and thence they properly derive their
denomination. Again, as to the feveral vowels, according to
the ſpace appropriated for emiffion of the voice in the form-
ation of each, a greater or lefs quantity of found will con-
fequently iffue; hence they acquire fulnefs, or exility, with
various other powers and properties, fubfervient to the various
purpoſes of ornament and expreffion. In the cafe of confo-
nants, the appulfe alfo varies; and is either plenary, or oc-
clufe, fo as wholly to preclude all paffage of the breath or voice
through the mouth; or partial and pervious, fo as to admit
fome paffage out of the mouth. This also affects the found
divers ways; giving it a lifping, or hiffing, or elfe emitting it
fmooth and liquid, jarring and tremulous, or compact and firm;
which, by a due combination, and judicious intermixture, ex-
cites analogous fenfations, and produces every thing harmoni-
ous and delightful in fpeech. This opens a wide field for
fpeculation, and gives ample fcope to the fkilful Rhetorician
for the exertion of his powers, both in compofition and de-
livery; of which we ſhali fay more in its proper place. But
we now proceed in our Analyfis, and refume our enquiries con-
cerning Letters. And firit, of the Vowels; they being, as it
were, the foul and active principle of all; for, without their
union and co-operation, the rest have neither power nor ex-
iſtence.
A Vowel is a fimple articulate found, formed by one impulfe
of the voice, at one opening or configuration of the mouth,
brought to its pofition previously to the act of utterance.
The criterion or teſt of a Vowel is uniformity; for, the parts
of the mouth, intrumental to its formation, being fixed to
their pofition before the found commences, and fo remaining,
without movement or alteration, during its continuance, the
found will neceffarily remain identically the fame to the ear,
through all ſtages of poffible extenfion. The leaft deviation or
change of the organs from the firft pofition changes the found
alfo, and a new vowel commences; and this gives rife to what
are called Diphthongs.
A Diphthong is the union or coalefcence of two founds, under
one impulfe of the voice, formed by one motion of the co-ope-
rating organ during the time of utterance, without bringing
any parts of the mouth into contact.-If, under the fame cir
cumstances,
( 78 )
cumftances, a fecond motion be fuperadded, it produces what
is called a Tripthong, which is the union of three vowels in
one fyllable. A ftep farther muſt be by appulſe or contact,
and is that which conftitutes Confonants.
A Confonant is an articulate found, or particular modification
of a vowel, formed of one impulfe of the voice, by bringing
the organs of its articulation once into contact.
Thus, all founds whatever, expreffed with the mouth, in a
degree open or without contact of the organs, are effentially
Vowels; though, poffibly, we may have no vifible marks to
reprefent them: And, every articulate modification, produced
by a fingle appulfe or contact of the organs, is truly a Confe-
nant, in nature and character; though no fuch character, ex-
prefsly, may ever have found its way into the alphabet.
The nature and diſtinction of fimple articulate founds thus
far inveſtigated, it remains to apply the principles laid down;
which ftrictly adhered to, the precife number of elementary
founds, and the imperfections of our alphabet may be readily
and clearly aſcertained, and a regular, juft, conftitutional pro-
nunciation confequentially deduced, and, in time, eſtabliſhed
in practice.
Alphabet is a word derived from the two firſt Greek letters,
Alpha, Beta, and means a ſeries of characters repreſenting the
elementary founds of a language fucceffively arranged.
A perfect alphabet fhould contain one mark or ſymbol for
every primary found, and no more. In the arrangement of
the letters, refpect ought alfo to be had to the order of fuc-
ceffion; for, as fome are of more eaſy and obvious conftruction
than others, they are more eafily attainable, and, being firſt
acquired, prepare the organs for thoſe of a more difficult nature.
The letter A, which ftands foremoſt in ours, and, I believe,
in all other alphabets, perhaps juftly, claims precedence; fince
with that we are ufhered into life, and proclaim our title to
fociety and the other vowels moſt properly take place, as, by
the fucceffive difpofition of the organs, they are more nearly or
remotely related to the firft. Of the confonants, thofe, in the
formation of which the lips are principally employed, are the
Rounds generally firft attempted by children, and to which they
attain with the greateſt facility; as, b, p, m, or, the words in
which theſe letters prevail; as papa, mama; and in molt
countries, of Europe at least, thefe words for father and mother
are generally uſed. Children, when cutting their teeth, being
much pained in their gums and roof of the mouth, frequently
:
apply
( 79 )
apply their tongue to thoſe parts, and by that means ftrengthem
and qualify it for the performance of other founds, 'till, in due
time, they become capable of all.
Thefe, indeed, are minute confiderations; yet, minute as
they appear, much of the excellence and perfection of fpeech
depend upon a due attention to them; and to the neglect of
them we may, in a great meaſure, attribute ftuttering,* lifp-
ing, mumbling, and many other deformities of fpeech, with
which, in a greater, or lefs degree, we obferve the pronuncia-
tion of most people infected.
Few alphabets, perhaps none, have ever come up to the
character here delineated; and, upon examination, the Eng-
liſh alphabet, like most others, will be found both deficient
and redundant; the fame letters often repreſenting different
founds, and different letters repreſenting the fame found, in a
very perplexed and arbitrary manner.
This will be made evident, by collecting the various founds,
occaſionally attributed to each letter, and claffing them tabular-
wife under their reſpective ſymbols.
SCHEME OF
THE VOWELS.
No. I.
I
2
3
4
5
a has 5 Sounds, hat
bate
hall herbage climate
I
2
3
4
5
6
C
6
bet
there
bere
ber
ferge pretty
I
2
3
4
5
i
- 5
bit
bite
pique
bird
girl
I
2
3
4
5
6
7
O
7
not
note
move
word
women aprɔn
One
I
24
3
4
5
6
u
- 6
cub
bush
cube
bury
buy
puppet
}
I
2
3
4
5
У
- 5
myfic my
many
myrrh myrtle
I
W
I
War
In all 35 oftenfible Vowels.
Our Vowels, taken in this view, at firft fight, appear to
be thirty-five in number; but, on a clofer infpection, reject-
ing
Stuttering, and most other impediments of utterance, though they pro-
ceed, very probably at firft, from the above cauſes, and gain frength by habit
are
(80)
ing the duplicates and allowing for other improprieties, we
fhall find their number confiderably reduced, though much
greater than hitherto admitted; as will be prefently fhewn.
Before we proceed in our furvey of the alphabet, in order
to a fair and impartial judgement, it will be expedient to
caution our readers, at leaft fuch as have imbibed erroneous no-
tions from injudicious inftruction, against the illufions of pre-
judice, which, early contracted and fucked in as it were with
our milk, in moft cafes, but particularly in the prefent, fo
powerfully operate upon the human mind, as utterly to con-
found the fenfes, and countermine all our intellectual faculties.
In our younger years, when our minds are liable to impreffion,
we are taught fuch unaccountable combinations in ſpelling, and
fo familiarized to them by cuftom, that, were our words
pronounced as they are fpelt, or fpelt as they are pronoun-
ced, we ſhould with difficulty difcover them to be of our lan-
guage. Let a perfon of education but take in hand a letter
written by one ignorant of ſpelling, to whofe manner he is a
ftranger, and who, as is common with fuch, fpells wholly by
ear, the trouble, it will coft him to decypher the meaning, will
very fully illuftrate this affertion: and, were it neceffary in aid
of this, we might alfo mention the well-known practice of af-
certaining the orthography of fufpected words, by committing
them to paper, and appealing to the eye for information;
which is generally correct in its election, though the letters, in
themſelves, may be very ill adapted to exprefs the founds they
are made to reprefent. Thus, it might feem that, one ſenſe
ftands proxy, or acts officially, for the other: But, in this we are
deceived; as it proceeds altogether from an habitual affociation
of ideas, early impreffed upon the mind. It muſt ſtill be re-
membered, the fenfes have each their feveral duties immutably
preſcribed. The Ear is the fole arbiter of founds; the Eye is
formed to diftinguish colours; and fo of the reft; each of which
has its peculiar objects, of which the others are utterly incapable
of forming the leaft adequate perception.
We muſt alſo recollect that feveral founds manifeftly vo-
cal, as well as confonants, occur in our pronunciation, which
have never had any particular characters appropriated to them
in
are greatly influenced by temper, and a certain frame of mind peculiar to
thoſe who labour under them, much more frequently than from any real de-
fects in their organs; and not one of a thouſand but might be perfectly cured
of them, by perfeverance, under the direction of a perfon duly fkilled in the
caufes of thofe impediments
( 81 )
in the alphabet, and, always appearing under the fignature of
oth rs, to aſcertain them properly may be matter of difficulty
with many, while others may be abſolutely deaf to the existence
of any fuch. But, however we find them expreffed by different
letters or combinations of letters, thofe letters and combinati-
ons ferve only as marks, very inartificially indeed, to denote
their powers in certain fituations; but are in no wife inftru-
mental to their vowelity: For, all founds, purely vowels, are
effentially fo in themſelves, abſtracted from every other acci-
dent of place or circumſtance. Therefore, to determine their
preciſe energy, we need only to pronounce the word at large;
then, repeating it, retrench the fubfequent confonants, if any,
carefully preferving the original found of the vowel; then, in
like manner fuppreffing the confonants preceding, we hear the
genuine Vowel, detached from all incidental connections, in
its fimple and natural ftate. E. g. What is the true found of
the Vowel, in the word match? First, pronounce it correctly
as it ftands, match; then repeat it, dropping the terminating
confonants tch, ma; then, in like manner fuppreffing the m,
the ear acknowleges firſt a.
Our Vowels are affected by their pofition; and very differ-
ently founded, when they end the ſyllable, and when fucceeded
by one or more confonants: a circumftance which might be
apt to miſlead the judgement, if not carefully guarded against.
Under the Vowel a are five words, in which it is introduced,
wherein, correctly pronounced, we plainly perceive five feveral
founds afcribed to this one fingle character;
hat,
hate,
hall,
ift. a, as founded by the Irish in the word
2d. a, as founded by the English in the word
3d. a, as founded by the Scotch in the word
4th. a, is founded as 1ft i, feen in the word herbage,
5th. a, is founded as ift e, feen in the word climate.
In the three firſt inftances, we find the fame fymbol adopted un-
der different names, by three nations, fpeaking the fame, or a dia-
lect of the fame language, to mark three feveral vocal founds,
wholly different in the feat of their formation, and equally differ-
ent in their qualities and effects upon the ear. This ftamps a
distinction, ftrikingly characteristic, upon the national pronun-
ciation. They all, likewife, occafionally admit the five feveral
founds here ſpecified; though with little regard to conformity
M
with
( 82 )
with each other, or even among themſelves, or, the fmalleft atten-
tion to principle or regularity. The total neglect of principle
and regularity has alſo been the ſource of endleſs altercation and
contradictions about the name of this Firſt Letter, a; in which,
likewiſe, the Second Vowel, e, fometimes comes in for ſhare;
each tenaciously infifting upon the propriety of that which pre-
vails among themſelves, and each fide ſtarting numerous ex-
amples to back their pretenfions. Should not this awaken
them to a fenfe of errour; for, while all fides abound fo plen-
tifully in authorities, where lies the advantage? Partially con-
fidered, they are indifputably all right; tho', in the main, they
are all aſtray, and equally diſtant from the truth. If the Iriſh
perfift in calling this Letter univerfally, a, as in the word hat,
the English and Scotch juftly tax them with impropriety, when
by that appellation they introduce it in the words, hate, able,
table, hall, water, and fuch like: If, on the other hand, the
Engliſh admit no other name but, a, as in hate, fnare, have not
the Irish and Scotch the jeſt in their favour, when they attempt
by that name to ſpell fuch words as hat, Adam, fall, alter: And,
if the English and Iriſh remain wedded to their own opinions,
have not the Scotch a right to plead a miſnomer in the caſe of
bald, call, talk, halt, fwan, war, water, and all words of that
family. It is apprehended thefe arguments must be conclufive;
and that no exception can be made againſt the inſtances now
adduced; fince all are unanimous as to their pronunciation.
But, the errour lies in this. The letter a really does the office
of three vowels; and, as fuch, ought to have a like diſtincti-
on of name and character: when, therefore, in all cafes, we
indifcriminately apply it by one only, we run into a palpable ab-
furdity; and nothing but cuſtom, which reconciles every thing,
could tolerate it. The two fupernumerary acceptations, as
they are by no means general, we may properly refer to the
letters, whofe office the letter a, in thofe cafes, ufurps; and, if
the force of affociation be not too hard for us, we muſt ac-
knowlege, that, in the word herbage, a has the found of
first i, and rhymes perfectly, in the laſt fyllable, to Etheridge;
and that a, in many words, affumes the found of firſt e in bet, as
in the words private, many, than, extant, inculcate, &c. &c.
What has been now ſaid of the firſt letter a, may ſerve as a
clue to guide us in our judgement of the reft: But, though the
frequent reiteration of the fame founds muſt be obvious at fight,
their precife number and mutual correſpondence will more
clearly appear in the following arrangement,
*
No. II.
( 83 )
a
AN A
2
a
3
♡ 20
a
I
-
No. II.
I
5
3
hat, serge,
6
sirrah,
2
2
2
bate, there,
3
'I
6
3
ball,
not
puppet,
6
I
5
5
4
4
6
3
3
་
3
?
The Sound
e
e
3 U
20
30
u
2. p
70
3 3
is marked
3
Ways, as in
bet, climate, girl, apron, bury, myrrh,
3
bere pique, than,
I
4
6
5
5
bit, herbage, pretty, women, buſy, mystic,
2
note,
3
2
I
3
2
I
move, pull, war,
I
4
cub, her,
2
2
4
4
5
bird, come, myrtle,
3 3
bite, my, a Diphthong formed of a, e,
rapidly pronounced,
7
3 I
one, a Diphthong formed of o, o, rapid-
ly uttered,
3
I
3 3
cube, a Diphthong formed of e, o, ra-
pidly pronounced.
'Tis true, according to this diftribution, a ſmall difference
in fome cafes is obfervable: for inftance, we find third a, in
ball, and firſt o, in not, claſſed under the fame head; yet third
a is long, and first o always fhort: but this is a difference in
point of quantity only; in point of formation and quality of
found, they are precifely the fame. Thus, in the words hall,
holly, the vowels, refpectively, are both expreffed by the ſame
configuration of the organs; and differ only as to the quantity,
or time taken up in pronouncing: Alfo, fall, folly, naught, not,
&c. The fame may be obferved of third o, and fecond u; as may
be ſeen in the words full, fōo!; pull, pool, &c. That fecond i
and third u are diphthongs will be readily admitted: For, put
them feverally to the teft; that is, pronounce them, and en-
deavour to prolong the found, they inftantly refolve themſelves
M 2
into
( 84 )
t
into third e, and third o; the duplicity of found is manifeft
confequently they cannot rank as fimple vowels; though, from
the rapidity of our pronunciation, and their being marked
by fingle letters, which induces the deception, they have hi-
therto been received as fuch. The like is alfo true of feventh
o, in the word one, which makes a third diphthong.
The words myrrh, myrtle, do not properly furnish us with
examples of two diftinct vowel founds: But, as a difference of
pronunciation prevails in different parts of the Britiſh domini-
ons, as to words of that clafs, though locally uniform
in themſelves, a diftinction is here fuppofed, for fake of
illuftration purely. Y, before r, in thefe and fuch like in-
ftances (as well as i and e,) is founded in Ireland, and by the
moft correct speakers in the court of Great Britain, as firſt e.
merrh, mertle; but vulgarly, in and about London, as firſt u,
thus, murrb, murtle; and, for earl, we hear url; for earth, urth;
virtue, vɑrtue; mirth, marth, &c. Thefe, and other like de-
fects, fpring from neglect and vicious imitation; which ſhould
be always carefully guarded againſt, and avoided.
It feemed requifite to reduce the various powers, and anoma-
lous applications of the vowels, fingly taken, to one point of
view, No. 1, and 2, that our young tyro might the more eaſily
make his eſtimate, and form a comparative judgement of the
whole. But, to mark and afcertain the pronunciation, a fingu-
lar advantage, to which theſe tables are adapted, a more limited
diſtribution may take place; as in the following Schemes.
No.
* This pronunciation of urth for earth, murth for mirth, &c. is according to a
vicious Cockney, or provincial idiom, introduced upon the ftage by a celebrated.
performer, who poffeffes fuch an uncommon affemblage of theatrical excellen-
cies, that his authority, in that line, is held up, as a fort of infallibility, which
it may be hazardous to call in queftion. Perhaps he found it difficult to
conquer the defect, and, either through indolence, or inattention, would not be
at the pains of reforming; perfuading himſelf it was of little confequence. Yet,
though the ſtage elocution is, in numerous inftances, unnatural and affected, it
is, by many, esteemed the belt ftandard of pronunciation; and, accordingly,
that mouthing burly utterance is daily gaining ground, through the influence of
that popular performer's example; confequently introducing new anomalies,
and adding to the perplexities and difficulties of our language, too much clogged
with them before. This fhould be a caution to men of parts, in every depart-
ment, to beware of the finallef practical blemishes, or inadvertencies; as faults
in them may be adopted for perfections; and fo, thofe abilities with which pro-
vidence has diftinguiſhed them, inſtead of a light and blefing to mankind, will be
a caufe of errour and confufion, entailing on pofterity the curfe of Babel, multi-
plied in perpetual progreffion. Such are the cauſes, however inadequate, minute,
and inconfiderablethey may appear to a curfory obferver, that fap the conftitution
of
( 85 )
2
hate
I
24
there,
2
I
a, Hat,
e,
No. III.
bet,
I
OR, THUS :
No. IV.
hall,
Hat,
háte,
häll,
3
here
bet,
thére,
hëre,
3
i,
bit,
bite,
pique,
bit,
bite,
Fïque,
I
2
3
0,
not
note,
move,
not,
note,
inöve,
I
2
3
u,
cub, full,
cube,
cub,
füil,
cübe,
I
2
3
y, myftic, my
many,
myfic, my,
many.
I
w,
2
war,
ewer,
war, ewer,
The little figures placed over the Vowels, to denote the dif-
ference of found, will, queftionleſs, be remarked; but, in ſcheme
No. 4, another method is propofed, fuggefted by the Hebrew, +
and partly authorized by our Saxon Ancellors. Thus the
firit
of languages, and render all living tongues fo fluctuating. Such were the cauſes
that affected the celebrated Roman language fo powerfully, that, from its highest
perfection, to a ftate of fenfible decay, was a period of fcarcely fifty years.
+ Great contents have lately arifen, refpecting the method of READING
HEBREW. Unhappily for mankind, Divines, as well as Politicians, have
been too strongly tinctured with human infirmity: It is to be feared, the
pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and other motives, rather than a
fincere defire of truth and public utility, are too frequently the actuating
principles with both. Why, elfe, if not to anſwer private purpoſes, ſhould
men of rank and education defcend to fuch mean fhifts, and illiberal artifices,
as are daily put in practice, to crush their opponents, and impofe on the credu-
lity and weaknefs of mankind? Indeed, not only found policy and public faith,
but the whole fyftem of science, feems, of late, verging to decay: and, pro ·
bably, the refearches of fome modern critics and antiquarians may give
birth to new theories, and a total revolution in literature, to convince us of our
blindneſs, and the inanity of our most boasted acquirements. The question of
the DOT VOWELS has opened new fields of controverty, and, as they can be
wrefted to favour, or oppugn, certain tenets and opinions, are exploded, or
efpoufed. The Jews, by their captivity, and the restraints upon the public
exerciſe of their religion, had not only loft all that was noble and auguft in
their worship; but, the knowlege of the Holy Scriptures, together with their
language, was greatly impaired, and in danger of being wholly obliterated.
On their return from Babylon, it began to revive: Then arofe the
Mafforites, thofe grammarians held facred by the Jews; by whole care and la-
bours, the Sacred Text was preferved incorrupt. They are esteemed the
inventors of the HEBREW DOT-VOWELS and POINTS; as, probably, the
Hebreeus read without them before the times of Eftras, Others fay thofe Dor-
VOWELS
( 86 )
firft or fhort founds are left wholly without addition; a di-
ftinction in itſelf fufficiently characteriſtic: over the fecond we
place a fingle dot or tittle; and, over the third, two: Over the
Vowel i we have indeed always feen a dot, but wholly without
meaning wherefore, dropping that fuperfluous tack, we form
ift i, which is precifely the Greek, Iora,; and thus, re-
ftoring our original Saxon Vowel, the whole is completed.
This mode of diftinguiſhing our Vowels by Dots, tho', per-
haps, not before adverted to, may not, probably, prove in-
eligible; as it feems to carry with it its own recommenda-
tion: It, in no refpect, fuperfedes the intelligibility of the eſta-
bliſhed typography; requires no literal acceffion to the Alphabet;
fufficiently indulges the prefent capricious humour of Spelling;
and is effected in the fimpleft manner poffible. The marks are
few, and obvious, eafy of acquifition, quickly familiarized, and
almoft preclude a poffibility of errour or confufion. A few equally
flight and eaſy, additional touches, to a few of the Confonants,
might totally reform our Alphabet; for the moſt part remove the
chief difficulties of our language; and free our tender infants and
foreigners from the intolerable flavery they have fo long groan-
ed under; and even without defacing the beauty of the page.
In the two laſt ſchemes before us the Vowels are confined to a
ternary of each, which is fufficient to the end; as it contains the
whole compafs of our vowel founds, and their moſt cuſtomary ac-
ceptations; the reft being only incidental repetitions of the fame,
of lefs general occurrence, and eafily referred to their reſpective
fymbols: befides, having the advantage of brevity, they are lefs
intricate, and with greater facility reduced to practice.
Now, deducting the feveral redundant marks of fimple articu-
lations and the three diphthongs, fecond i, third u, and ſeventh o,
there remain Nine diftinct Vowels; and that number we certainly
have, and no more; ** as here exhibited.
No. V.
VOWELS are of much more modern date, and were originally borrowed from the
Arabians. Be that as it may, and notwithſtanding the exceptions urged againſt
them, for the purpoſe of afcertaining the true founds of Hebrew, and the pre-
cife import of certain words and phrafes, in a language circumftanced as it appears
then to have been, fuch Doтs, applied as auxiliaries, may be of admirable uſe to
living tongues ſpoken in their purity, where any literal change in the received Al-
phabets, imperfect as they are, might be deemed too violent. But, why ſhould
not a neceffary reformation in our Alphabet and Spelling now take place? Much
greater changes in that way have been obtruded, fince the times of SPENCER and
SHAKESPEAR; tho', unhappily, as they were partially, and too often capri-
ciouſly, attempted, they have proved moftly for the worſe.
CRITO.
Some Grammarians extend the number of our Vowels a great deal far-
ther; with what propriety we may judge, when we find e mute ſummed up in
the
( 87 )
No. VI.
3
OR, THUS:
hat, hate, häll,
bet,
hëre
a,
e,
i,
No. V.
I
Hat, hate, hall,
I
bet,
I
bit,
2
3
here,
3
note, move.
u,
cub,
bit
note, möve
cub.
REAL NUMBER OF OUR VOWELS.
I
2
3
1
a,
a,
a,
e,
ته مه
2
3
I
e,
1,
0,
0,
u.
I
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
OR,
THUS:
a, à, ä,
e, ë,
1,
ô,
ö,
u.
2 3
4
5
6 7
8
9
}
}
Here, it is to be obſerved, that there are but five letters to
mark nine different founds. And this defect in our Alphabet,
together with a total neglect of all juſt rules of Orthography,
has introduced fuch diforder in our Spelling, that, unless we
be much upon our guard, and pay no attention at all to
the manner of fpelling words, we fhall never be able to form
any just judgement with regard to their founds,
But,
In fcheme, No. 2, it may be alſo obferved, that, fo far from
being uniform in marking our vowel founds by one and the
fame fymbol, we feem wholly indifferent in that reſpect; and
adopt any letter, indifcriminately, that falls in our way.
None of them, except zd. o, but has two or three of thefe
letters to reprefent it. The founds first e, and firft i, are oc-
cafionally marked by every vowel in the alphabet.
though theſe irregularities might be abundantly fufficient to
puzzle even natives, the moft converfant in our tongue, and
utterly to difcourage and deter foreigners, there are few of our
vowels that, fuperadded to thefe, are not marked by a combi-
nation of characters in nine or ten different ways, and fome,
even more exemplified, in the ſcheme annexed.
Ift
the account, and are gravely informed, that it is a diftinct found of itſelf.-Let
Mr. BAYS's "borrid found of filence" be no longer a jeft; fince it can be fup-
ported on fuch profound and inconteftible Authority..
( 88 )
I
Ift a, as in hat.
No. VII.
I
ift e, as in bet.
J
aa
Ifaac
I
ai
2 3 4 5 7∞
au
aunt
ea
heart
ua
guard
•
8
£ £ 2.
plaintiff
augh
agh
ah
*ufquebaugh
*curragh
Jehovah
2,
2
~ 3+5O NO a
2
ea
again
dead
ei
4
eo
ie
6
io
7
ое
8
oi
9
ue
ae
No two no ao
2
zd a, or 2d e, as in hate, there.
1
3
ai
au
10
ui
hyæna
aid
II
uo
12-
we
nonpareil
feoffee
friend
faſhion
Oedipus
avoirdupoife
guefs
verjuice
liquor
anfwer
gauge
13
he
rhetoric
4
ay
pray
3
3
5
ayo
6 ea
"mayor
bear
3d e, or 3d i, as in here, pique.
7
8
ei
9 ey
10 ia
11
1 2
13
02
ое
៩ · ·៦ ៦.៨ ៩ ៖
I
ea
deal
c'e
ne'er
feint
grey
parliament
goal
oeconomy
*reconnoitre
2 3 4 5 6 7∞
oe
8
uey
grieve
phoenix
laquey
ui
9
jonquil
10
il
fufil
I
ee
ei
Co
ey
8 ៦. 8
ie
receive
people
key
feel
oi
14
oy
*chamoy
15
uay
quay
16
eigh
neigh
17
18
19
7 8 9 O
es
ez
ois
20 hei
*demesne
*rendezvous
*chamois
heir
3
3d a, as in' hall.
7
8
HN MTGO NO
Ι
au
laud
2
aw
law
eo
4
wa
3
oa
groat
athwart
George
#23+no n∞
ai
ei
ift i, as in bit.
captain
furfeit
eo
4
ia
pigeon
miniature
ie
mifchief
6
ieu
*lieutenant
io
cuſhion
8
ui
built
9
wi
10
eig
houſewife
foreign
6
augh
ough
ogh
daughter
fought
*Drogheda
ad e,
( 89 )
f
2
2d o, as in note.
ao
3
A in &io no a
2
au
cacao
marauding
cau
beau
ew
fhew
3456 78 9
ew
oe
jew
fhoe
*
oeu
manoeuvre
00
moon
ou
foup
ue
ui
true
fruit
5
oa
oak
10
WO
6
oe
foe
I 1
WOO
7
o'e
o'er
12
ough
8
ou
foul
13
00
door
14
10
OW
blow
13
3+3
Ous
ouft
two
fwoon
through
rendezvous
gouft
out
gout
}
17
owe
towe
12
we
ewer
1.3
WO
fword
Σ
14
aoh
Pharaoh
ift u, as in cub.
15
aut
hautboy
16
ough
though
-
io
17
out
haut gout
2
iou
religion
religious
18
oh
fhiloh
3
oe
does
19
OS
apropos
4
00
blood
5
Ou
touch
6
3
WO
Colewort
3d o, as in move,
7
wa
aukward
8
hu
humble
1
eo
1
eu
galleon
canterleup
This paradigm of our anomalous application of the Vowels is
formed upon the ſtandard of the moſt polite and correct ſpeakers
in England; fuch, I mean, as have added good breeding to their
learning; which muſt be in all fuch cafes our beſt and dernier re-
fort: Yet, comprehenfive as this fpecimen may appear, it is not
offered, as in all refpects complete; but it may pave the way for
others, and in the end lead us to perfection. It is, perhaps, the
most complete of the kind; but, from the very nature of the
thing, it must be liable to exceptions. Very few have been ac-
cuſtomed to confider oral founds in this critical point of view.
Our fenfe of Hearing, as well as other Faculties, is capable of
improvement;
N
( 90 )
improvement; and, confequently, becomes blunted and dull,
through inattention and want of exercife, and, fo, incapable of
nice difcriminations. Some of the examples are unavoidably
fhewn in unaccented fyllables, where the founds, by nature ſhort,
are evanefcent and illufive; which may perplex even a diſtinguiſh-
ing ear, perhaps not wholly unprejudiced. Others there alfo are,
which may be objected to; fome marked by aſteriſms, of which
it may be faid, they are altogether foreign, and ought not to be
fet down as authorities in English. But, ftrip us of all words
of that character, and, what will become of our language?
Are they not now in a manner naturalized; well under-
tood; often heard in English mouths; and to be met with ſo
written in all our dictionaries and Engliſh books? Where,
then, is the impropriety of introducing them on fuch an occa-
fion? Would it not rather be thought an unwarrantable omif
fion to exclude them ? I doubt not, many will be aftoniſhed to
fee fuch numerous inftances of irregularity and confufion in our
orthography a circumftance they would fcarcely have credited,
had not fuch a collection been fet before them.
And yet,
theſe are but a part: upon examination, many others of various
natures will prefent themselves; fome of which will be here-
after noted. Theſe are confequences of our fervile attach-
ment to extraneous etymology; and, whatever may be ſaid in
fupport of it, I cannot yet be perfuaded of any advantages
refulting from it, comparable to the inconveniencies and diffi-
culties it occafions. The genius of our tongue prohibits, and
on the juſteſt grounds, any change in the ftyle of our pronunci-
ation: Why, then, do we not follow the wife examples of our
neighbours, and ſpell more conformably to the ear? Even the il-
literate underſtand the words as fpoken, where, in any fort, the
leaft retroſpect to etymology cannot poffibly have place: What,
then, fhould prevent our recognizing them on paper in the fame
ſtate? It would be polite, too; for 'tis continental. The Italians
particularly authorize the practice: Do their men of genius fhew
any deficiency in their own language? Is it lefs underſtood; or,
are the number and intricacy of verbal difputes more incidental
among them, than they are with us? Is their tongue lefs ftu-
died, lefs coveted and fought after, lefs known, lefs melodious,
than the Engliſh? No: Experience plainly demonſtrates the
reverfe to be the fact; and that, too, greatly owing to the
very point in queftion.
But, not to dwell longer on a fubject fo little likely to be
attended with advantage, we purſue the matters more immedi-
ately
( 91 )
ately to our purpoſe. Having, in fchemes, No. I, II, and VII,
abundantly illuftrated our various ways of marking the fame
vowel, we ſhall now produce fome fpecimens, by which it will
be ſeen, that we have the fame way of marking feveral dif-
ferent founds, which, with many others, may be alfo gathered
from the foregoing fchemes, comparing them in different in-
ftances with themfelves.
No. VIII.
1,
There, Here, 3,
29
Do,
Go,
4,
Door,
Grove, Drove, Prove,
Noon, Blood,
Fourth,
Youth,
Mouth,
Tough,
5,
6.
Bear,
Hear,
Head,
Heart.
It may be objected, that the inftances here fet down, as well
as thofe No. VII, are Diphthongs. But this will be easily obvi-
ated, by recurring to the definitions already given; and, as they
do not fall within that defcription, left a name fhould be want-
ing, they may, for diftinétion fake, be termed Digraphs, i. e.
two Characters denoting one found.
Whoever, therefore, wants to judge of the true found of any
fyllable, or word, let him banish from his mind the letters
whereof it is compofed in writing, and be directed by his ear
only in new ſpelling the word according to its pronunciation.
In order to this, it will be neceffary, in the first place, to refer
every vocal found in a fyllable to its proper vowel by name, as
drawn out in the prefent fcheme of the Vowels, which fhews
their different founds and manner of marking them; as, thus,
No, IX.
Fourth, fecond o, Forth,
Youth, third o,
Yöth,
Door, fecond o, Dór,
Mouth, first o, fec. u, Mouth,
Come, first u,
Cum,
Bear,
fecond e,
Bér,
Touch, firft u,
Tuch
Hear,
third e,
Hër,
Grove, fecond o,
Grov,
Head,
firft e,
Hed,
Drove, firſt u,
Druv,
Heart,
first a,
Hart,
Prove, third o, pröv,
Field,
third i,
Fild.
Such
( 92 )
1
Such is the force of affociation of ideas, that, unless perfons
are much upon their guard, the letters which they are accuf-
tomed to fee in fpelling will obtrude themſelves on their me-
mories, and, at firft, prevent their readily making a juſt judge-
ment of the true fimple founds to be referred to. But, a little
practice in this way will foon render it eaſy; eſpecially, if the
perfon will, for fome time, not revolve the words in his mind.
only, but write them alfo down, and then compare his fpelling
them with the fcheme of the vowels before mentioned, in order
to try whether he has referred the found to its true vowel.
Having afcertained the number of our Vowels or firſt clafs of
alphabetic elements, and fhewn how to refer our different man-
ners of marking them to their true founds, we come now to
confider the ſecond order of elementary fymbols, or thoſe form-
ed by appulfe, called Confonants, in the fame way. Of thefe,
our grammarians tell us, we have twenty-one in number, viz.
No. X.
B, C, D, F,
be, fee, dee, ef,
G,
H. J.
K,
K,
L,
gee,
aitch, ja,
ka,
L, M, N, P,
el, em, en, pe,
Q, R, S.
T,
V,
W,
X,
Y,
Z.
ku, ar, es, te ve, double yu, ex, wy,
zed, or izzard.
Here we muſt call to mind an obſervation before made, that
a perfect alphabet ſhould contain one mark or ſymbol for every prima-
ry found, and no more. Upon examination, then, it will ap-
pear that we have no less than feven letters, received in our
Alphabet as Confonants, wholly redundant:
C and Q are fuperfluous; only fupplying the place of K,
or S:
C lands for, before e, i, y; as in ceafe, cite, cypher;
or united with h, at the end of a word; as in bench: in all
other fituations, for K; as in cap, coat, cup, clay, cry, dictate,
mufic; i. e. before a, o, u, 1, r, or, when it ends a fyllable.
Q, from cuſtom, is put inftead of K, before the vowel u,
forming a diphthong; as in quack, queen, quiet, quote.
H, is no letter, tho' generally efteemed one; having no pow-
er but that of aſpiration on which account it found no room
in the Greek alphabet. It precedes any of the vowels, by pre-
vious emiffion of breath only; not in the least affecting the ac-
ceffary configuration of the organs, which, were it effentially a
Confonant, would neceffarily induce a change and fome degree
of appulfe; e.g. and, hand; end, hend; is, his; odd, hod;
ut,
( )
93)
93 ut, hut; in all which, reſpectively, the pofition of the mouth
remains precifely the fame, requiring only a previous aſpiration
to the latter.
W, and Y, never are confonants, as it is erroneoufly afferted
by grammarians, but are at all times vowels; as appears fron
the definition of fimple founds, and other confiderations to be
feen hereafter,
J, is the mark of a compound found, made up of dzh, as
Joy, dzhoy.
X, ftands for two different compound founds, one gz, as in
the word Example, Egzample; the other ks, as in veks.
The two laft come under the denomination of contractions,
rather than diftinct letters; as that of & for and, &c.
SUPERFLUOUS CONSONANTS, SEVEN.
C,
Q, H, W, Y, J, X.
Subducting, therefore, the above feven characters, there re-
main but fourteen letters in our alphabet to mark the founds of
our fimple confonants, when in reality we have twenty; which,
to render it perfect, would require an addition of no lefs than fix
new characters; as may appear in the following Words,
No. XI.
Thin, thine, fhall, azure, ink, ring.
But, as five of the fimple founds are marked always by two
letters, they have paffed upon us for compounds: two of thefe
founds, No. XI. are marked by the fame combination, th,
without the ſmallelt diftinction: the 1ft, eth, as in thin;
the other, eth, as in thine; the 3d, by fh, as in fhall; the
4th found, ezh, has no peculiar mark; but is fometimes re-
preſented by an s, as in the word ofier ozher; fometimes, by
a fingle z, as in azure azhure: the fifth and fixth founds,
marked by nk, and ng, by recurring to the nature and defini-
tion of elementary or primary founds, will alſo be found to be
of that order.
We are almoſt as irregular in the ufe of our Confonants, as
in that of the Vowels; of which take the following view, from
the Lectures on Elocution.
No.
( 94 )
No. XII.
C, has three founds,
k,
S,
care, kare,
ceaſe, feaſe,
fh,
focial, fofhal.
F, has its found mark-
ed by two differ-
ph,
Philip, Fillip,
ent combinations of
letters.
gh,
laugh, laf.
G, has two founds,
1,
60.
2,
J,
S, has four founds,
S,
z,
h,
[it's own found] gold,
gentle, jentle.
yes,
rofe, roze,
paffion, paſhun,
zh,
ofier, ozher.
T, has alfo four founds,
t,
tell,
S,
fatiety, fafiety,
fh,
Nation, Nafhun,
tſh,
queftion, questfhun.
X, has three founds,
gz,
example, egzample,
ks,
vex, veks,
Z,
Xerxes, Zerkfes.
Th, has two founds,
1,
th,
thin,
2,
th,
thin.e
Ch, has three founds,
k,
chorus, korus,
ſh,
chaiſe, ſhaze,
tſh,
chooſe, tfhoofe.
Gh, has two founds,
And is often mute,
I,
g,
ghoſt, goſt,
2,
f,
laughter, lafter,
daughter, dätur
( 95 )
Thus, by the tranfmutation of confonants as well as vowels, and
alfo by the frequent omiffion, fuppreffion, and introduction of let-
ters, greatly arifing from one caufe, a pedantic attachment to ety-
mology, together with the wretched ignorance of our teachers, we
have reduced our orthography and pronunciation to fuch a ſtate,
that it is almoſt impenetrable to all, but a few of our best educated
natives; and to them, only by long practice, and affiduous at-
tention. Indeed, had we fate down to invent a fet of hiero-
glyphics, purpofely to render our fpeech abftrufe and unattain-
able, we could fcarcely have done it more effectually. But,
thofe, who have once maftered the difficulty, never after attend
to it, and give themſelves little trouble about what may be the
misfortune of others; and the ignorant and careleſs don't much
feel its influence: and fo it remains, without change, or remedy.
In judging of the Confonants, we ſhould, therefore, take care
to fpell the words in our own mind, or upon paper, as in the
cafe of the Vowels, by the direction of the ear; referring each
fimpie found to its proper character, according to the fpecimen
juft given, and, revolving each fingle character that ftands for
compound founds into the letters which it reprefents. Thus,
the number of fimple Confonant founds in our tongue appears
to be twenty.
b, d, f,
eb, ed, ef,
g,
eg,
No. XIV.
k, l, m, n, P, r, s, t, v,
ek el, em, en, ep, er, es, et, ev,
th, th, fh, zh, nk, ng.
eth, eth, efh, ezh, ink, ing,
v,
ez,
That thefe fupernumerary founds are not arbitrarily intro-
duced, will manifeftly appear from the following confiderations.
The world is indebted for the art of Printing to the Ger-
mans: and, tho' introduced among us by a native of our own
country, the compofitors and others, employed under him, were
foreigners, and fo continued in chief repute for a feries of
years fucceflively: we have, therefore, no reafon to fuppofe them
over maſters of our fpeech, or too critically killed in our or-
thography, then in a very fluctuating ftate. In this refpect we
have the indifputable records of their own works; which
plainly
(96)
plainly fhew they were inconfiftent, arbitrary, and utterly re-
gardleſs of method. They imported with themſelves their alpha-
bet and character; which, in procefs of time, were laid afide
for the Saxon, more properly our own. For fome time, the
practitioners in this new art attempted only the common alpha-
bet adapted to the Latin tongue; all the books first printed be-
ing in that language. It foon paffed over to Rome, and Venice,
where it was cultivated with great affiduity, and flouriſhed ex-
ceedingly; but under the patronage of fome of the Italian Prin-
ces the old character was fuperfeded, and the Roman alphabet
fubítituted in its place; which, in a fhort time was brought to
fuch perfection, that, in the beginning of the year 1474, they
caft à letter, not much inferior to the beft type of the prefent
age. The beauty and elegance of this type gained it a general
preference, which fupplanted all the reft: and thus, the Roman
alphabet, tho' it by no means correfponded with our original
Saxon, nor furniſhed fymbols to mark feveral founds which we
had naturalized from other tongues, was adopted by the Eng-
lifh, and established in most other literary ftates of Europe.
The poverty of the received alphabet reduced our printers, who,
frequently exercifed the twofold avocation of author and typo-
grapher to a thoufand aukward expedients, to render the fpelling
conformable to the pronunciation, the original intention, doubt-
lefs, in all tongues, which, together with their great remiſneſs
and want of ſkill in thefe points, laid the foundation of the con-
fufion and irregularity, under which we labour to this hour.
Having thus briefly stated facts, we come to afcertain the
particulars.
Every modification of found, obfervable in our fpeech, articu-
lated by one fimple appulfe of the organs, must be confidered as
a fingle confonant, and ought, as fuch, to have a place in our
alphabet. Of this defcription are all the fix founds above fet
down, however differing in nature and degree.
eth, and eth, we inherit from our Saxon anceſtors, for both
of which their alphabet fupplies diftinct characters, p, th;
*, dh; as in the words pin, thin; ine, thine; the first of
which is alfo found in the Greek alphabet, expreffed by their
9 theta.
eſh, we meet with in the Hebrew alphabet, denoted by their
wfhin, (as in the word fhiboleth) remarkable for having coft
42000 men their lives. who could not pronounce it; yet an
articulation
( 97 )
articulation with which the organs of Britiſh ſubjects are perfectly
familiar, which being uttered by a fingle effort of the voice,
and incapable of prolongation, is therefore to be referred to the
claſs of mutes; the particular nature and number of which,
together with the femivowels, fhall be prefently fhewn.*
ezh, is a femivowel formed after the fame manner, preciſely
by the fame organs with which we exprefs the mute eſh; and
though we have no fingle character for either in our alphabet,
we find a feparate and diftinct letter appropriated to one of
them by the French; their j, and our ezh, being in found pre-
ciſely the fame. In this, however, the French infift we are defi-
cient, and we, without examination, as on other occafions, com-
plaifantly acquiefce in their decifion.
ng-ing, and nk-ink, as in fing, fink, are alfo fingle
founds; the firft a femivowel, the latter a mute, both articu-
lated by a fingle appulfe and fimilar configuration of the ſame
organs; ng, ing or eng, is formed by raiſing the middle of the
tongue gradually, rather near the throat, to a gentle contact
with the palate, fo as that part of the voice may iffue through
the mouth, and the remainder be forced back through the
nofe. The fame difpofition of the fame organs takes place in
the formation of nk, ink or enk; but by a more fudden and clofer
preffure of the tongue to the palate, the paffage of the voice.
through the mouth is inftantly ſtopped. We indeed have no
ſeparate character for either of them; a defect which the
learned and elaborate Dr. Wilkins feems much to regret in
regard to the found ng, ing or eng; the mute, nk, not having been
obferved by him or any other grammarian. Philologers tell us
the Hebrews have a character for ng, ing, exemplified by the
ftroke of a bell, which they contend is the true found of their y,
Ain or Oin. The fure teft of a fimple letter, whofe found
can be prolonged, the characteristic of all the femivowels as
well as vowels, is, the Ear's perceiving that it is the fame found
which was first formed that is continued; this is obvious in pro-
longing the founds L... 1, N... n; the beginning, middle
and end are the fame, however long continued; the fame is alfo
obvious in prolonging the found ng . . ing or eng, and therefore
it muſt be a fimple letter. The letters called mutes, being in-
capable of prolongation, from which circumftance they take
their name, the ſpecifick characteriſtics are not fo clearly per-
ceptible;
*For the word Shiboleth, &c. ... fee Judges, cb. xii, v. 6. It ſignifies a
fpike, or blade of corn.
O
•
( 98 )
ceptible; of this clafs however, being formed at a fingle effort
by one appulfe of the organ, is nk... ink or enk, which
has the fame relation to ng . ing or eng, as ef has to ev, or es
to ez, and is therefore a fingle letter: both ng and nk are per-
haps peculiar to the Engliſh language.
Uniformity, or abfolute famenefs, is feverally the characteriſtic
of all fingle founds, vowels and confonants, be their quantity
or duration of utterance long or fhort; that this diftinguiſh-
ing property appertains to the fix preceding articulations, any
ſpeaker may fatisfy himſelf by attending to his own utterance
of them, if his articulation be perfect, and his car unprejudiced,
capable of diſcriminating, and therefore though we have no
diſtinct characters to repreſent them, they ſhould be conſidered
as elementary founds and ought to make part of our alphabet.
Of all confonants, femivowels or mutes, without exception,
it is eſpecially to be obſerved, that, as they are formed by ap-
pulſe or contact of the organs refpectively employed, the found
is never complete or perfectly definite, till the organs are again
ſeparated, or return to their uſual quiefcent ftate.
}
Upon reviewing our alphabet we ſhall find that there are in
our tongue, nine vowels and twenty confonants; in all twenty
and nine elementary founds. Now to compare our tongue with
the nobleft language of antiquity, the Greek; and with the
moft generally known of modern times, the French: firft,
with regard to the vowels and next to the confonants. It is
evident from what Dionyfius Halicarnaffeus has written on the
ſubject, that the Greeks had but five vowels; confequently we
exceed them by four, and have almoſt double their number. The
French can point out in their tongue the fame number of
vowels that we have; but there is this effential difference be-
tween us, that the ſhort founding vowels are ſo thinly feattered
through their tongue that they reap little advantage from their
number; whereas with us, the fhort founding vowels are ſo far
predominant in our tongue, which they ſhould be, for reaſons
hereafter to be affigned, as to give us every advantage of an
agreeable variety, which it is in the power of ſuch a number of
vowels to give in our tongue.
With regard to confonants we have fix which the Greeks had
not, and theſe are :
V, Z, Th, Sh, Zh, Ng.
Some
( 99 )
Some are of opinion that the V was the Æolic Digamma (F);
but if it were fo, it was peculiar to the Æolians, and did not
pread through the reft of Greece. Our Z is not the fame as
their Zeta, which we are told by Dionyfius was a compound found
made up of ds, dseta. Their had but one found, the ſame as
our th, as in the word thin, but they had not the ſound of our
th, as in then. Sh and Zh there are no traces of, and the found
ng, was not known to them; as thofe letters are never joined
in one fyllable, N finiſhing the former, and G, or Gamma be-
ginning the next. They did not found the word as we are apt
to do Ang-gelos, but An-gelos. The advantage which this enrich-
ment of our alphabet has given our language over the Greek,
ſhall be ſhewn in its proper place.
With refpect to the French we have only two fimple Confo-
nant founds more than they, and thofe are th, and th, founds
which moft Frenchmen find it difficult or impoffible to utter,
merely from their not being fhewn the pofition of the organs in
forming them, by which method they might be taught to pro-
nounce them diftin&tly in a few minutes.
Having afcertained the number of elementary founds in con-
ſtant uſe in our language, and of courſe the requifite number of
characters to ſtand as their fymbols, marks, or reprefentatives,
it remains to add fomething concerning the accidents of letters,
of which we reckon five, viz.
Figure, Name, Order, Affinity, Pronunciation.
1st. Of their figure. The beauty, accuracy, and delicacy of the
Roman character, now univerfally adopted in our books, and
the fkill and attention difplayed in the various mechanical
proceffes conducive to its perfection, renders it unneceffary to
fay much on that fubject. For every purpoſe of perfectly dif
criminating them the characters in ufe are fufficiently diſtinct,
if they were but fufficiently numerous; and, as now eſtab-
liſhed, to make any very prominent alteration would be neither
eligible nor perhaps practicable. The grand objection is, that
it would be attended with trouble and expence without any ad-
vantage to the prefent race of adepts, and render the fubfifting
impreffions of books in a manner uſeleſs. It must be alſo own-
ed, that the motley mixture of uncooth and heterogenous
characters exhibited in fome ſpecimens of this kind by Johnfon
in the Grammar prefixed to his Dictionary, are not much cal-
culated
( 100 )
culated to anſwer the end, or do away the prejudices generally
entertained on the ſcore of Innovation. Yet upon the preſent
fyſtem the buſineſs is not impracticable, and moſt of the pur-
poſes for which ſuch an improvement is defirable might be ac-
complished without injury to the beauty of the page, or in the
leaft militating againſt the uſe of the current editions.
The great cauſe of confufion and complaint in the eſtabliſhed
Orthography is, the various offices to which we arbitrarily affign
the fame characters. Some have attempted to remedy the evil by
the introduction of new characters and a total change in the fyf-
tem of fpelling; but this would be perhaps introducing a greater
evil, to which there are infurmountable objections. It would
probably anſwer better to accommodate a little, and try what
emendations, without violence, can be made to the character in
ufe. The vowels are the leaft numerous, but fubject to the
moft capricious and perplexing anomalies; to begin with thefe,
ftill retaining the old letters: the method I would recommend
to aſcertain their powers is by dots, as heretofore hinted; each
Vowel in point of found being appointed to three diftin&t
offices, as already fhewn, the firft I would leave in its naked
ftate without any addition, as we find it in the alphabet, which
would be in itſelf a fufficient diftinction, as a; over the fecond
I would put a fingle dot, as à; over the third two dots, as ä,
and ſo of the reſt. See the Scheme of the Vowels, No. iv. p. 86.
Hat
. . . hate . häll
Bet, &c.
•
and for this we have a precedent without reforting to either fo-
reign or obfolete alphabets; the vowels with two dots or diærefis
ä, ë, ï, ö, ü, being forts already received in our printing-houſes;
which could not be charged as innovation, and would confe-
quently be a faving both of trouble and expence.
A reformation in the confonants might be effected with equal
eaſe and advantage; of theſe the eight following are the moſt
awkardly circumſtanced:
c, g, fh, zh, th, th, nk, ng.
The two firft as reprefentatives each for two different founds,
and the fix laſt as double letters for fingle founds, to which, in
nomination or power they have not the ſmalleſt relation or
reference. C, when it ftands for S, might be marked with a
cerilla
(101)
cerilla ç as in çity, cypher, in the manner of the Spanish and
Portugueſe Grammarians, and remain as at prefent when it ftands
for k, as in carrol, caper; g has a fort of little cockade mounted
at the right, wholly fuperfluous and without meaning, which
never appears in writing; this, when g has its own peculiar
found might be alfo caſhiered in printed books, as in game,
grove, log; but might remain to distinguish its foft and adventi
tious found, as in gentle, giant, cage: efh in the fall type is
already fufficiently diftinguifhed, the f and h being joined at top
fh, which if called as it fhould be esh, would be to all intents
and purpoſes a fingle character; but that, as it appears, was wholly
unintentional, and has been objected to, for what reafon I know
not, by fome of our letter-founders; and by cafting fk, fl, fl in
the fame way it is rendered of no ufe, except to heighten the
confufion; th and th, as ſtanding for fimple founds might be
connected by carrying the ftroke of the t into the body of the h,
and adding a cerilla to the mute th, eth, to diftinguish it from
the femivowel th, eth; in like manner the finiſhing ſtroke at the
foot of the n, in nk, ink, and in ng, ing, might unite with the k,
and the g, which would ſeverally reduce them to fingle charac-
ters agreeable to their found; and for the reft a few grammati-
cal obſervations, which might be mastered in a couple of hours,
would abundantly fuffice. But under this regulation they
fhould no longer be difcriminated by the names of the letters of
which they are apparently compofed; but as in this way they con-
ftitute but one character or letter, reprefentative of one found,
they ſhould have reſpectively, as before inculcated, but one
name expreffive of their feveral powers, and this rule to be in-
variably obferved through the whole alphabet, as recommend: 1
under the article names, p. 106, for which we have examples in
our own ufage; even in the cafe of fingle characters reprefent-
ing compound founds; for inftance j, jay for dzh, as in James,
Dzhames; and x, which has two founds though but one name,
eks, in exerciſe, and in example, pronounced egzample, which
might be diftinguished in like manner by the cerilla when pro-
nounced eks, x, leaving it in its prifline ftate x when founded
egz, giving in ſuch caſes like the reft the name conformable to
the found. By the way, it might feem extraordinary, could
we not produce examples of a fimilar nature equally extraordi-
nary, that the two letters I, and J, one purely vocal,* and the
other
The reader will meet with fome curious fpecimens of this kind, by
way of illuftration, at the conclufion of this article.
•
( 102 )
other decidedly a confonant, fhould ever be confounded; Iames
for James, Iohn for John, &c. in ſome caſes, though not ſo
common, j is put for i, particularly in manufcript. Their
figures, which are already ſufficiently diftinct, one ſhould think
might be a direction; an unequivocal direction which leaves no
excufe for fo palpable a blunder.
Thus, without defacing a fingle letter, or adding one to our
alphabet; without the ſmalleſt retrenchment or alteration in the
eſtabliſhed orthography, by a few fignificant touches perfectly
congenial with the modern caft, and fo minute in themſelves that
they could not hurt the eye of the moſt faftidious connoiffeur, we
fhould, with exceptions comparatively few, be freed from the
trammels of ambiguous and perplexing combinations, and our
alphabet rendered, if not entirely perfect, the best adapted to its end
of any in Europe: Correct fpelling, which is now the labour of
years, and with difficulty attained by our best educated natives,
inſtead of a tedious and diſgutting task, would become an amuſ-
ing employment. Having a character for every fimple found,
which would be nearly the cafe, and calling them uniformly by
appofite fimple names, the complicated drudgery of fpelling and
putting together would be at an end. The mere naming of the
letters would fuggeft their powers in combination, and reading,
fo far as refpects the firſt material object, a juſt pronounciation
of the words, would be reduced to a very fimple proceſs. In
effect, fpelling would be but a flower fort of reading, and vice verfa,
reading but a rapid kind of ſpelling; there would be a reciproca-
tion of advantages, for each would confirm and mutually affift
the other. This would be the greateſt relief and encouragement
to children and foreigners, who require every inducement to
learning, and thofe who are in poffeffion of the old method would
find no difficulty in reforting to the new; the new, having the
pronounciation clearly afcertained, would in its turn be the beft
preparative, and, in all cafes of doubt, a ftandard for the old. To
fay nothing of adepts, thoſe who are but tolerably converfant
with the Roman Typography find little or no difficulty in read-
ing books printed in the Italic, or even the old Engliſh charac-
ter, and by an eafy tranfition the German Text, as ufed in MSS.
Secretary, Court-Hand, and Chancery, foon become familiar;
and in the way of reformation far greater alterations have been
made, even in the uſe of the modern Type, than what is here
propofed. Befides it is not neceffary that works of every kind
fhould be printed in this way; it need only be extended to ele-
mentary
( 103 )
mentary works, and fuch as are adopted in our ſchools for the
inftruction of learners.
On a fuppofition that, by the foregoing or any other means,
the deficiencies of our alphabet were properly fupplied, as to the
particular figure or form of the characters, having in the first
inftance allowed them to be fufficiently diltinct, little more re-
mains to be added. The letters W and Y which have been fo
much the theme of conteft ever fince the revival of letters, feem
the only characters any way remarkable in point of figure. Our
w, precifely the fame in found as the ou of the French, the
Italian u or Greek, as we pronounce it, is manifeft.y taken
from the Greek alphabet; and neither more or less than two
omicrons oo, or two fhort o's joined together ∞o, forming their
w, omega, or o long, by one continued ſtroke of the pen, through
hurry in writing or mere careleffnefs, left open at top, which
our own daily practice in ſmall or running hand abundantly de-
monftrates, and of which alfo the form of the Italic w in our
own printed books affords corroborating evidence. The form
of the English w is indeed of a remoter analogy; but that may
without difficulty be accounted for; it was a matter of expe-
diency; for in cutting the punches, and in finking the matrices
or moulds in which the types are caft, the engraver would natu-
rally make choice of the eafielt form, which is manifeftly in
favour of ftraight lines in preference to the round, wherever he
was left to his option and had a precedent to keep him in coun-
tenance ;—that he had not long to feek for. He might have
had the old English w under his eye, the Saxon W,
or the
example of Greek uſage ftill more to the purpoſe. Alexander
Drummond, Efq. his Majefty's Conful at Aleppo, in the very
interefting account of his travels, folio, London, printed by
Wm. Strahan, 1754, has given ſeveral fac-fimilies of the Greek
alphabet.
* This form (W) of the Saxon double u, is taken from the Saxon alpha-
bet as given by Johnſon, who muſt have copied it from Bailey, Phillips,
or fome other early lexicographer, and is. perhaps, but a modification of
the old English ; for it does not appear fo formed in the alphabet given
by Mrs. Elizabeth Elftob, the De Scudery of England, who publiſhed 2
Saxon Grammar under the patronage of the Queen, nor in Sommer's
Anglo-Saxon Vocabulary, Hickes's Inftitutes, or his Thefaurus, the Te
tament of Alfred, &c. with any of which it is probable Johnſon was not
acquainted. The moſt accurate Saxon alphabet handed down to us by
thofe authors feems but a mongrel compofition of the Roman, and the
remains of the primitive Saxon, grown obfolete even in their times, and
no where to be met with entire.
( 104 )
靠
​alphabet carefully traced from the antique. The four follows
ing forms of the Omega, fo perfectly correfponding with what is
here advanced, are remarkable and decifive:
∞, ш, w, W,
This alſo, if unquestionably the Cadmi knew their own letters,
is a powerful proof, connected with the reft, that w is not a
confonant but a vowel.
We have the fame authority for the origin and form of our
y in the Greek Upfelon, four different fpecimens of which are
likewife thus exhibited by Mr. Drummond:
r, y, Y, ų,
pronounced in that language u, eo; but in naturalizing the figure.
we have perverted its ufe, and, in giving it the found of i, ap-
plied it in a way but ill fupported by the original.
Without entering into any farther difcuffions of this nature,
I fhall conclude this article with an attempt to fhew, as a point
of curiofity, how this particular letter, y, which feldom or never
appears at the end of words in the ancient orthography, obtain-
ed fo general a preference among the moderns; a peculiarity
which could not be admitted on the plea of derivation, and has
hitherto been left unaccounted for by our grammarians.
The words now ending with y, were anciently fpelled with
an i, as cri, fli, ladi; and as cuftomary with Scriveners in thofe
days, the laft letter was commonly doubled, or in the oftenta-
tion of penmanship run into a little flourish or curl, which bear-`
ing ſome reſemblance to the vowel e, in procefs of time, through
ignorance or careleffnefs, was miſtaken for the letter e itfelf;
hence crie, flie, ladie, as alfo longe, fitte, winde, wonne, &c. and
e, in the firft concoction a fuperfluous and unmeaning tack, be-
came a favourite termination at the deſk and at the preſs, and an
appendage to half the words in the language. But fill it remains
to account for the fubftitution of y.
In order to this we muſt
look into ancient orthography, of which Johnfon in his grammar,
already referred to, has given various fpecimens ; the following,
according to Sir Thomas Smith's fcheme, as improved by Dr.
Gill, will fuffice for the prefent.*
The
*Sir Thomas Smith, who flourished early in the 16th Century, was
Secretary of State under Edward VI. and Queen Elizabeth; admitted of
the Privy Council; three times Ambaffador to France, and efteemed the
ableft fcholar and philofopher of his time: He was author of feveral va-
luable
( 105 )
Vnɣankful w reɔ, faid hj, iz dis de mjd,
Wið wiɔ har foverain merfi dou duſt qujt?
Dj ljf rj faved bj her grafius djd;
But dou duft wen wið vilɛnus diſpjt.
Tu blot her honor, and har hevnlj libt. &c.
The lines are Spencer's, in modern orthography thus:
Unthankful wretch, faid he, is this the meed,
With which her fovereign mercy thou doft quite?
Thy life the faved by her gracious deed;
But thou doft ween with villanous deſpight,
To blot her honour, and her heav'nly light, &c.
By comparison of theſe two different modes of writing, it
decifively appears that j, jay, long i, or i confonant, as fome
ſtill call it, had in old times, however different from the preſent
acceptation, the power of e or ee; and like the long and fhort
or ſmall s in modern uſe, j and e were but different marks for the
fame found, applied at the difcretion or whim of the writer; of courſe
the words crie, flie, ladie, &c. which was the adopted fpelling
as before ſhewn, would be written with ij, crij, flij, ladij, the
long e, or j, being preferred by Scriveners as a better finishing
letter, and more calculated to fhew command of hand,---a very
filly affectation judiciouſly exploded by the moderns. This the
printers in vogue, accuſtomed to their old Saxon type, mif-
taking for y, the only letter in the alphabet of that tongue
diſtinguiſhed with a dot or tittle over it, adopting the Roman
character, put a real y in its place, as cry, fly, lady, &c. hence
the general reception of y at the end of words, Q. E. D. But
no temptation to flourish occurring when the letter s was to
follow, (the fhort e being more commodious for joining) the
plural of nouns, and the third perfon of the prefent tenfe in-
dicative of verbs remained in ftatu quo without alteration, as
cries, flies, ladies, &c. and this accounts for the feeming irre-
gularity in that refpect:-I fay feeming irregularity; for y or
y being but a fort of contraction for ij or ie, crys, crýs, crijs,
and cries, are virtually the fame, and the cafuals, by gramma-
tical inflection, regularly applied; confequently cries, flies, ladies
and all of that claſs are ftrictly analogical, and by no means to be
confidered
P
luable works, and, like Swift, a genius of more modern eminence, was
anxiouſly folicitous for the improvement and perfection of his native lan-
guage. He left an ingenious tract concerning the correct writing of the
English Tongue, and the true founding of the letters, from which the
celebrated Dr. Gill, Maſter of St. Paul's, derived his theory.
( 106 )
confidered as anomalies in our tongue: y is alfo retained in the
middle of ſome words upon etymological principles---chiefly in
derivatives from the Greek.
Notwithſtanding all that has been faid, and the buftle made.
by grammarians about thefe two equivocal letters, w and y,
Dr. Holder and Dr. Wilkins, two able critics who made alpha-
betic writing their peculiar ftudy, confider them as wholly ufe-
lefs characters, and as well as C, H, J, Q, and X, are for re-
jecting them altogether: that would be to create a new lan-
guage, at leaſt as to books; a piece of literary Quixotiſm fit
only for the enterprizing genius of a Pfalmanazar. But taking
them as they at prefent ftand, a conftituent part of the written
language, from which it would now be in a manner impracticable
to diſcard them, it is proper to afcertain their true character, a☎
marks of certain elementary founds, and the purpoſes to which
*they are fubfervient in the graphic art, which fhall be fully fhewn
when I come to ſpeak of diphthongs.
2d. Their Names. Letters being the moft fimple elements of
ſpeech, ought therefore to be diflinguiſhed by the moft fimple
names, and fuch only as indicate their ſeveral powers; in which
reſpect the Roman alphabet, uſed in theſe weſtern parts of the
world, has pre-eminently the advantage. For what could be
more foreign or abfurd than to exprefs the fimple elements by
words of ſeveral fyllables, from which no idea of their powers
can be collected, as in the Greek, Hebrew, and all other alpha-
bets hitherto known among us, the Roman only excepted. The
aboriginal Iriſh ſeverally diſtinguiſhed their letters by the names
of particular trees and herbs, for which it must be prefumed
they had a fingular predilection; from the inconveniences of
which, by the adoption of the Roman uſage, we are in a great
meaſure exonerated; yet we are not wholly relieved from inac-
curacies in this refpect, which, trifling as they may appear,
have occafioned much difficulty and perplexity. The difference
prevailing among the English, Scotch, and Irish, as to the name
of the first letter of the alphabet, runs through their whole
fpeech, and ftamps a national characteristic upon their verna-
cular idiom, already noticed and too well known to need farther
animadverfion here.
This has fometimes been the cauſe of whimſical miſtakes on
the Hibernian fide of the water, among your fine ſpeakers,
who hypercritically affect the English manner: for occafion,
they
( 107 )
they fay okeefion; for packet, peckit; and for days, dees.
A gentleman remarkable for choice ale, of which he had va-
rious forts at his fide-board, preffed a lady at table to try ſome
of them; the lady declined it, ſaying, "I have no okeefion
for eny at preſent, end never teeſte eels of eny kind." A
plain ſpoken Engliſh lady prefent, not having heard what went
before, catching up the laft words, faid, "I join you there,
Ma'am, cels are my averfion, they look fo like fnakes:" To
which the lady replied, "I proteft, Meme, I don't underſtend
you, its my feet to be miſteeken; I reely keen't fee where's the
enellegy betwixt eel and fneekes.” This was being too Angli-
fied; fomething, perhaps, like what the Athenian Herb-woman
meant, when, in anfwer to Theophraftus's queſtion, for he
plumed himſelf on his ſpeaking, "how fhe knew him to be
a ftranger?" ſhe told him " he was too Attical." But this
is not a very common fault; the Irish are in general ftrictly
grammatical, and among the best educated natives in both
countries, the mode of pronunciation is nearly the fame.-
As a farther proof of the importance of diftinguiſhing letters,
as well as other things, by diftin& and adequate names, we may
adduce the femi-vowel v, ev or vee. This letter and its
neighbour, the vowel u, were formerly indifcriminately uſed
under one and the fame name, common to both u, ëö, or
ẻỏ, as in the more modern alphabet, now exclufively affigned
to the vowel; thus vinegar would be articulated, as indeed
it often appeared on paper, uinegar, or winegar; veal, ueal,
pronounced weal. This fimple circumftance in ages long paft,
gave birth to a vicious mode of pronunciation, which infects
the fpeech of at leaſt two-thirds of the native inhabitants of
the metropolis of England, where it moftly prevails, to this day :
thus før vinegar and veal make very good victuals, I vow;' a
a cockney, fubftituting the found of u, which he had been
taught to call v, by an affociation of ideas no way unnatural,
fays, winegar and weal make wery good wictuals 1 wow;' a
defect which moſt of the Shires, and the Iriſh in general, who
univerſally call it vee, cannot be charged with. The letter ƒ,
which is formed by the fame organs as the femi-vowel v, vee, the
cockneys never mispronounce; becauſe they were inftructed from
the beginning to call it by the true name, ef, expreffive of its
power, and continue the fame in their fyllabication, which con-
fequently maintains its power in the courfe of delivery throughout.
When
( 108 )
When they had occafion to ſpeak of u and v, in contradiftinc-
tion merely as letters in their feparate ſtate, v was called u ſharp,
alluding to its figure, or more commonly u confonant; but it was
a diſtinction purely nominal without reference to its due applica-
tion or power, in the fame way that j was called long i, or i con-
fonant; for in both inftances the characters were indifferently
uſed, one for the other, as we have already feen.*
The figni-
ficant appellatives jod, or more properly jay or edge, and vee or
ev, are comparatively of modern adoption.
There is a manifeft abfurdity in the names by which we
diftinguiſh feveral of the letters reputed confonants, viz. H,
W, Y, Z. The firft of thefe (at leaſt the figure) borrowed
from the Greeks, though with them it held a quite different
rank and power, is with us a mere fimple auxiliary aſpiration ;
yet the name we give it contains an uncouth combination of
five characters, not one of them in the remoteft degree fignifi-
cant of its uſe or application [aitch], by which means it per-
haps attained its place in the alphabet as a letter itſelf. W,
which we retain from the Saxon, though a fimple found and
evidently vocal, we call occafionally a confonant, and denote it
by a name of three fyllables, and no leſs than ſeven letters, not
one of them expreffive of its power [double u], though as a
double vowel one might conclude it not a confonant: it ſhould
be called ö as we found oo in tool, a name expreffive of its
power.
The ambiguity and confufion occafioned by calling the femi-
vowel, v, [vee or ev,] by the fame name as we call the vowel u,
or at times fomewhat more definitely u conſonant, fuperinduced
a complication of errors in refpect of w alfo for under the
miſtaken notion as already fhewn, that w was merely the v or
u confonant doubled, vv or vv, it was called by a name in allufion
to its figure, double u; a miſtake to which their contiguity in the
alphabetic feries very poffibly contributed; and what is ftill
more whimfical. they were not unfrequently promifcuouſly ap-
plied.
*The following relick of ancient prejudice is a recent and fitriking inftance.
of the fantastic mode of typography alluded to.
HERMES; OR, A PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY CONCERNING VNIVERSAL
GRAMMAR, BY IAMES HARRIS, ESQ. LONDON PRINTED BY IOHN
NOVRSE AND PAVL VAILLANT. MDCCLII.
A more copious fpecimen from different authors is given in a fubfcquent
page.
( 109 )
}
plied. The common way of writing up and upon was, vp and
vpon ; for laurel, lawrel; for unfavoury fauce, vnfauorie
fawce; for love, lou; and at this hour (anciently howre) for
above, we have abou; as all the milk-maids in London can
teftify unto jov [or eou, for you,] ſo ſpelled in an old mifcellany
now in my poffeffion; and in another, allauie, for all away,
more than once. Hence probably arofe the idle conceit that
w was of an amphibious nature, fometimes a vowel and fome-
times a confonant; a confonant, like v, at the beginning of a
word, but retaining, like u, its vocal power in its ufurped ftation
at the end; a folecifm, which grammarians, not venturing to
think for themfelves, or tinctured perhaps with the popular
prejudice, have fince endeavoured moft ftrenuously to fupport.
Hence, alfo, w obtained a general preference at the end of
words; for, as we have feen, it was a practice with our Scribes
of ancient date, when grammatical learning was in its infancy,
if they wanted to give force to a final fyllable, or with more
preciſion to afcertain the found of a preceding letter, however
inartificially, to double the letter fubfequent, excell, penn,
redd, tell, trick, c and k being in the laft inftance the fame;
In like manner, finding u and v, both in writing and ſpeaking,
conftantly confounded, and that u at the end of words, as in
other cafes, might be miſtaken for v: thus according to the
old orthography, allou would be pronounced allov; borrou,
borrov; which was not only of more difficult utterance, but
perhaps became obfolete, and a mark of vulgarity, of which
even in this age of refinement examples might be produced;
to put the matter out of doubt, thofe early reformers had re-
courſe to the ufual expedient-that of doubling the letter; in
this inftance u, [vv] for which both in name and acceptation w
was a convenient fubftitute ready to their hand: Our calling of it
double u, is mere prejudice of education, of all prejudices the moft
inveterate, imbibed, no doubt, from our quoudam ſchool dames,
who reigned with abfolute controul, the fole conductors of infant
feminaries; and had the honour of inftilling into our brighteſt
luminaries, even Shakeſpear, Milton, Newton and Dr. Johnſon
himſelf, the elements of literature. The form of the letter
was particular and ſtriking; but as it can hardly be divined thofe
venerable gentlewomen were deeply read in the philoſophy of
founds, or troubled themſelves much about the precepts of
Quinctilian, they confulted mother wit, and chriftened it from
its
( 110
110 )
its appearance on the Sampler, or peradventure the fignature
enchafed with a skewer on the rim of an Apple-pye: fuch are
the fruits of irregular inftitution, and thus are we bewildered by
incompetent inftructors!
In like manner, y we call by a name containing three vowels
rapidly pronounced, or a tripthong dåẻ, or öäë, though in our
grammars and fpelling books it is called wy; in either way,
without reference to its true found or peculiar defignation in the
ſtructure of ſyllables and words, which has occafioned ſuch a
ftrange jumble of opinions, that this, as well as the letter w,
may be called the opprobrium of grammarians; for to this day
it is not decifively agreed whether they are vowels or confonants.
Z, commonly called zed or izzard [s hard], is almoſt as unac-
countably circumftanced, and its real nature and property little
better determined or understood. It ſhould be called ez.
The naming of fome of the confonants with the vowel pre-
fixed, and others by fubjoining the vowel, I take alſo to be an
impropriety. It is true the confonants are not all of the fame
quality, fome being fonorous and others occlufe, which natu-
rally divides them into different claffes, which it is alledged that
method of naming them is intended to point out, though it has
neither been ftrictly adhered to, nor is it all adequate to the
end; for it is founded on a miſtake, by which, as fhall be pre-
fently fhewn, fome of the fonorous conſonants have been deemed
mute, and thoſe really occlufe have been erroneouſly esteemed
fonorous, as in the cafe of F, V, S, Z, &c. thus the diftinc-
tion is rendered futile, and of no moment or uſe in practice,
to which indiſputably it fhould have reference. In naming the
confonants therefore of every defcription, I have uniformly
placed the vowel foremost, not only to avoid the confuſion at-
tending the common method of fometimes putting it before,
and fometimes after, but becaufe we are thereby the better
enabled to aſcertain the relative pofition of the organs, and by
that means to diſcover and determine the characterillic differ-
ence and properties of letters; for by giving the vowels the lead
we may continue the organs in the fame pofition at pleaſure,
and fo have time to confider their uſe and application in the
found of any of the letters, as eb,´ep, ev, which do not fo
in which
clearly appear when the vowel fucceeds, ás be, pe, ve;
cafe the organs are inftantly diffevered; the confonant part
vaniſhes, and the vowel only is heard. This, to fuperficial ob
fervers,
( III
III )
fervers, may feem of little or no confequence; but I can fay
from experience, that if more generally adopted it would be
found one of the best means of preventing ftuttering, and of
curing many impediments of fpeech which have been hitherto
thought irremediable.
The point now to be confidered is,
3d. The Order in which the letters of the alphabet ought to
be difpofed. This is a matter which, for the eaſe and advantage
of the learner, merits particular attention, though hitherto, like
the reft, it has been left wholly to chance.
The vowel A, with fingular propriety, takes its ſtation at
the head of every alphabet; we bring it with us into the world;
it is the firſt found we utter, it announces our adıniffion
into fociety, and with an emphafis. univerfally understood, it at
once makes its way to the heart, and awakens the tendereft
emotions of humanity. It is the offspring of neceffity, which
in the firft inftance prefers our claim to pity and protection,
and, as a memorial of our original ftate of weaknefs, mingles
with the kindred affections through life. In the order of ar-
rangement the vowels indifputably fhould be reckoned by them-
felves, as being of a diſtinct ſpecies, and ought to have prece-
dence from their priority in nature, neceffity and confequence,
alfo as being of the most immediate and eafieft acquifition.
They are formed fimply by the opening of the mouth, and in
regulating their order it ſeems moft proper to rank them ac-
cording to their different degrees of apertion, beginning with
the wideft, and fo proceeding by a regular ſcale of approximation
to the leaſt.
No. XV.
à, à, à, ê, ô, ô, è, l, ú,
or
ä, a, à, ë, o, ö, e, 1, u.
The three laft being abfolutely fhort and never terminating a
fyllable without a confonant actually or virtually fucceeding, give
place to all others, as being of inferior value and lefs obvious to
perception.
After
( 112
After the vowels the confonants take place, and of theſe the
fonorous ſhould precede, as approaching neareſt to the vowels,
beginning with the labials and fo proceeding through the
dentals to the palatals; the latter requiring fome degree of pre-
vious inſtruction and exerciſe, their feat of articulation not being
altogether fo perceptible as in the former claffes, which confe-
quently renders them more difficult of acquifition. The clafs
called Nafals, becaufe pronounced partly through the nofe, I
place the laſt in fucceffion, being more complicated in their
nature and requiring more care in the teacher as well as atten-
tion in the learner, to prevent a very great and not uncommon
defect in utterance known by the diſgraceful epithet of ſnuffling.
According to the mode of arrangement here recommended, the
confonants will ſtand in the order following :
b, p, v, f, d, t,
eb, ep, ev, ef, ed, et,
No. XVI.
th, th, z, f, zh, ſh, g, k, l, r,
eth, eth, ez, es, ezh, esh, eg, ek, el, er,
m,
n, ng, nk.
em, en, eng, enk.
Children taught in this way will neceffarily acquire a diſtinct ar-
ticulation, which is the, foundation of good fpeech, and which if
it be not laid in the firft fin ple elements with the utmoſt care
and exactnefs, Quinctilian, one of the beft judges of Antiquity,
does not fcruple to pronounce, that whatever fuperftructure you
may attempt to raiſe on it muſt fall.
Having faid all that appears at preſent neceſſary as to the figure,
names, and order, or alphabetic arrangement of letters, the next
thing that offers itfelf for our confideration is,
4th, Their affinity. This is a matter that need not be very
particularly dwelt upon: That the vowels as well as the confo-
nants, have reſpectively their relations and generally run in pairs,
must already have been perceived from what has been incidentally
premiſed; in that partly confifts their affinity, which will more
forcibly appear under the following head, which requires minuter
inveſtigation.
5th. Their pronunciation. To this point all the former are
but preparatives, and to its perfection ultimately tend. Pro-
nunciation
( 113 )
•
unciation is the vivifying principle; it adds energy and beauty
to thought, and, if I may be allowed the expreffion, is the
mufic of ſpeech; and as all the charms of melody and harmony
depend on the precifion and facility with which, by inftruction,
practice, obfervation and natural aptitude we are enabled to
execute the notes of the Gamut or mufical alphabet, ſo all
the delicacies, graces, and beauties of ſpeech depend upon the
facility and preciſion, with which by the fame means we are
enabled to exprefs the elementary founds of which language
is compoſed.
Having for this purpoſe previouſly ſettled the number of
our fimple founds, and removed the various obftacles in our way,
to proceed on fure grounds, I fhall now enquire into their
nature, and fhew in what refpects they differ. They differ
from each other in two refpects; rft, in Sound; 2dly, in Time.
The former I fhall call the quality, the latter the quantity of
the letters; and firft of the quality, beginning with the vowels
as before, and thence proceeding to the confonants.
That in the article of quality the vowels differ from each
other, in other refpects befide the mere diverfity of found, will
at once be evident upon comparing the effects which their
founds produce upon the organs of hearing, fome of them
making a more forcible impreffion, filling or pleaſing the ear
more than others; hence the difference in point of quality is
to be confidered with refpect to ftrength or weakneſs, fulness
or exility, fweetneſs or harſhneſs.
As theſe feveral properties depend chiefly upon the ſeat of
their formation, the vowels have in all languages been divided
by grammarians into three claffes, according to the different feat.
of their formation, the throat, the palate, and the lips, whence
they have received the names of guttural, palatal, and labial.
This distinction has been preferved by the English grammarians
alſo, though not with equal propriety, as perhaps, ſtrictly
ſpeaking, we cannot be faid to have any guttural vowels. The
feat of the formation of thoſe vowels which are called guttural,
is very different in different nations and languages; in fome
the firſt ſeat of articulation where theſe vowels are formed, lies
in the throat itſelf, underneath the ſmall paffage through which
all found is emitted; the voice after having been articulated in
this low feat does not find an eaſy paffage through the mouth,
but is drawn up to the roof, from which part of it only iffues,
and part is reverberated into the throat, which has given riſe
Q
to
( 114 )
to the common expreffion of ſpeaking in the throat; the dif
agreeable effect of which is fenfibly perceived by every ear not
accuſtomed to fuch founds, in which the Irish, the German,
the Northern tongues, and thoſe of moft barbarous nations
abound. It is in uttering theſe guttural founds that one of the
moſt ſtriking faults of the Scotch pronunciation of many Eng-
liſh words is perceived, as in daughter, for dawter; nor can an
Engliſhman advanced in life be taught to pronounce founds of
this kind: for inftance, the word lough (the name for a lake
in Ireland,) is founded by them lock; for in the pronunciation
of their own tongue they never form any founds in that low
guttural feat, in which the voice has obftacles to encounter with,
but have pitched upon that part of the infide of the mouth,
which is neareſt to the fmall paffage of the throat through
which the voice iffues, for the firſt feat of articulation; and the
founds formed in this feat find a ready and clear paſſage through
the lips, and come out full and diftinct, without being broken
and rendered confuſed by any reverberation, as in the other feat.
The founds formed in this feat are ftrongeſt and fulleft; ſtrongeſt,
becauſe the voice ftrikes with greater force againſt that part
which is contiguous to the ſmall aperture whence it iffues, than
it does againſt any at a greater diftance;-and fulleft, becauſe
they are formed with the largeſt aperture of the jaws and lips,
fo that there is a larger concavity for the found to ſpread itſelf
within the mouth, and a larger aperture for its emiffion.
Though theſe vowels are not formed in the throat, but rather
on the extremity of the palate which joins to the orifice of the
throat, yet for the fake of diſtinguiſhing them from fuch as are
formed in that part of the palate that is more advanced towards
the teeth, they may ſtill retain the denomination of guttural.-
The next feat of articulation is that which I have juſt menti-
oned, the ſpace which lies between the extremes of the palate;
in forming vowels in this feat, the jaws approach more nearly
to each other than in the former, even until they come almoſt
into contact. The third feat of articulation is the lips, by the
different contraction of which and confequential degrees of
aperture different vowels are produced. Now to reduce the
vowels to thefe three claffes; but first I muft obferve that it is
not neceffary to the prefent defign to take notice of the ſhort
vowels in this reſpect, as the pronunciation of them is too
rapid to occafion any great attention to their quality, and
therefore it is their quantity, of which the ear chiefly takes
1
notice ;
( 115 )
notice; it is only in thofe of longer duration that there is
time to form compariſons of their feveral powers in point of
found. On which account, to avoid multiplying unneceffary
diftinctions, I fhall reduce the long vowels only to their claffes,
in the following manner:
Palatal.
៧~៧
Guttural.
å fåll.
â
a
far.
ẻ there.
ê hêre.
Labial.
3 måte.
3 mỏve.
i
[
In founding the vowels according to the above order, the
feat of articulation is continually advancing from that part of
the palate which is contiguous to the aperture of the throat,
quite to the lips. The found å, is formed in the feat neareſt to
the throat, and with the wideſt aperture of the jaws and lips;
near to that, but a little advanced and with fomewhat lefs aper-
ture of the mouth, is long a formed; more advanced towards
the middle of the palate, and with the like degrees of diſtance
and aperture, are the two palatal vowels è and è formed, the
diſtance ftill encreaſing, and the aperture leffening until the
jaws almoft arrive at the point of contact; è being the laſt found
formed within the teeth, the feat of articulation is advanced to
the lips, where the fame degrees of diſtance and aperture are
obferved as in the two other ſpecies of vowels; 8, being formed
by the infide of the lips with a wider orifice, o, by the middle
of the lips and with a ſmaller aperture. By this fcale, upon
the principles before laid down, we may adjuſt the different de-
grees of power in the feveral vowels, with reſpect to fulneſs
and ftrength; for it will follow, that å being made in the firft
feat of articulation neareſt to the paſſage of the voice from the
throat, and with the largeſt aperture of the mouth, is a fuller
and ſtronger found than à long, and for the fame reafon, á,
than a, and a than ẻ.
a
The great difference in the power of the vowels that are
formed in the concavity of the mouth, or within the teeth, ac-
cording to the feat of their formation, will be manifefted in the
moſt ſtriking manner to the ear; not by founding them in a
regular gradation, but by taking the two extremes and found-
ing them after each other, as a, ¿, ¿, å. Who does not im-
mediately perceive the fulneſs and ftrength of one vowel, and
the exility and weakneſs of the other?
But in eftimating the powers of the labial vowels compara-
tively with the reſt and each other, we muſt proceed by a new
ratio,
( 116 )
ratio, as the different apertures of the lips as well as the jaws
are here to be taken into confideration; whereas the lips had
no motion or pofition of their own in the reft, which depended
entirely on thoſe of the jaws.
It is a principle previouſly eſtabliſhed, that the ſtrength of
the vowels is in proportion to the contiguity, of their ſeat to
the paffage through which the voice iffues from the throat; but
it is not fo with refpect to fulneſs: the pofition holds only
with regard to vowels formed within the teeth; we muſt pro-
ceed by a new ratio in regard to the labials, both as to fulneſs.
and ftrength. For, though it has been juftly laid down as a
rule, that the different degrees of fulneſs in the vowels, were
proportioned to the different apertures of the jaws; and, at firft
view it may be imagined, that the labials being formed wholly
by the lips, muſt be inferior in fulneſs to any that are formed
within the teeth, whoſe found is aided by the concavity of the
mouth; yet upon examination, it will appear, that the different
apertures of the jaws, combining with the lips in forming thefe
vowels, have a very fenfible effect, and give them additional power.
In the utterance of o, (8) the jaws are in fact opened to the
fame extent as in that of ä, (å) and the voice, thus accumulated
within the greateſt concavity of the mouth, forces its way to
the ſeat of articulation, the lips, forming themſelves into fome-
what of the fhape of a ſpeaking trumpet, where the found,
collected as it were into a focus, immediately burfts forth; con-
fequently o, (8) like ä (3) to which it is akin, is fuperior in
fulneſs to any of the other vowels formed by a lefs aperture of
the jaws. This procefs of the voice being attended with fome
degree of conſtraint, and therefore requiring more of exertion,
the vowel o, (8) is univerfally uſed as an interjection expreffive of
particular emotion, wonder, forrow, or pain, to which it ſeems
by nature peculiarly adapted: ö (8) in like manner, originating
in the fame aperture as ufed in forming à long, though inferior
in fulneſs to o, (8) as iffuing through a more contracted
orifice of this is fuperior in that refpect to any of the pala-
tals, where ne ſo in the firft ftage repreffed by a cloſer
approximation wituent organs.
}
Now to con confonants in the ſame way; the firſt
great diftinction between confonants, is, that fome of them
have a found of their own, which may be perceived either be
fore articulation when they precede a vowel, or may be conti-
wued after articulation, when they follow one in a fyllable.
This
( 117 )
This gives rife to the first general divifion of confonants into
mutes and femi-vowels, a diſtinction well known to the ancients,
but fcarcely adverted to by modern grammarians; a mute is a
confonant that has no found of its own; a femivowel, one that
has: as every vowel muft neceffarily have a found belonging to
it, fuch of the confonants as refemble them in that reſpect by
a found of their own, are, on that account, called femivowels.
The mutes have no found but what is communicated to them
by the vowels or femivowels, and they are formed entirely by
different pofitions of the organs modifying the founds of the
vowels or femivowels in different ways; on a general divifion,
upon this principle our confonants may be claffed in the follow-
ing manner:
Mutes, II.
B. D. F. G. K.
P. S. T.
Sh. Th[th] Ng.
Semivowels, 9.
L. M. N.
R. V. Z.
Zh. Th. Ng
Thefe conforrants, both mutes and femivowels, differ from
each other in another refpect, which is, that in the formation
of fome of them, a perceptible effort of the breath is neceffary,
known by the name of aſpiration, in others not; this gives rife
to a ſecond divifion, into fimple and afpirated mutes and
femivowels.
Simple Mutes, 7.
D. G.
B.
K. P. T. Nk.
Afpirated Mutes, 4.
F. S.
Sh. Th[th]
Simple Semivowels, 5.
L. M. N.
R. Ng.
Afpirated Semivowels, 4.
The fimple femivowels L. M. N.
ancients liquids; but as they had none
V.
.8
J:
Z th
called by the
pirated kind in
their tongue, they are at prefent without a name, I fhall there-
fore call them afpirated femivowels.
The
( 118 )
The mutes may again be divided into pure and impure; the
pure mutes, are fuch as have no found at all of their own; the
impure, fuch as have a little found after a vowel, though not
before one, but which cannot be long continued.
Pure Mutes.
K. P. T.
1
Impure Mutes.
B. D. G.
The found of ek, ep, et, cannot be continued, thoſe of
eb, ed, eg, may, but for a very fhort ſpace; the liquids had
their name from uniting easily with the mutes, and flowing
with them as it were, in the fame ſyllable, while fuch an union
was impoffible to many of the mutes, and the pronunciation of
fuch as would admit of it, was in many cafes very difficult.
Thus, bia, cla, bra, cra, are eaſy founds, while it is impof-
fible any found fhould be produced from a junction of bk, db, gp;
and in fuch muces as have been united in our tongue as pt, kt, &c.
the pronunication is difficult before a vowel, though not after;
on which account they never begin fyllables in our tongue,
though they are often heard in the end, as in apt, act, &c.
We come now to examine how the confonants differ from
each other, with refpect to quality or nature of their founds;
and here we ſhall find, that the difference is exactly the fame
as in the vowels, in point of ftrength or weakneſs, fulneſs or
exility, fweetnefs or harfhneſs. As thefe qualities alfo depend
chiefly on the feat of their formation, let us claſs the confonants
accordingly.
The vowels were divided into guttural, palatal and labial;
but in the divifion of confonants, the diftinction of guttural
should be omitted, as we have none in Engliſh formed in the
lower feat of the palate near the throat like the vowels, and in
its room ſhould be ſubſtituted that of dental.
For though the teeth are no way concerned in the formation
of vowels, yet they are neceffary to produce the founds of fome
of the confonants, which are therefore divided into palatal,
dental and labial.
Mutes.
Palatal, G. K. T. Nk.
Dental, D, S, Sh, Th[ch]
Labial, B, F, P.
Semivowels.
L, N, R, Ng.
Zh. Z, Th.
M, V.
The
( 119 )
The palatals are fuch as are formed before the voice reaches
the teeth; the dentals, fuch as are produced by the tongue
touching the teeth, or the voice and breath ſtriking againſt
them, and the labials are formed either entirely by the lips, as
B, P, M, or by the application of the lower lip to the upper
teeth, as F, V.
To point out the different ufes of theſe diftinctions, would
require private inftruction and practice; but the quality or dif-
ferent powers of found in the confonants may be ſufficiently
fhewn, to anſwer the purpoſe of a general view, in a fhorter
way, by having recourfe to the former divifion of them into
mutes, femivowels, &c. while in the latter one of palatal,
dental and labial, I have only opened a way for fuch as are
defirous of it, to carry their fpeculations farther on this head.*
It must be evident, from their very nature, that the femivowels,
having founds belonging to them, which may be continued
ad libitum, are preferable in all properties of found to the mutes;
that the fimple mutes modifying the founds of the vowels
and femivowels, have more of fweetneſs and fulneſs to the ear,
than thoſe of the afpirated kind; as the latter, having the force
of the breath fuperadded, have more of ſtrength. In the fame
way the fimple femivowels alſo have more of ſweetneſs and ful-
nefs, as they confift of pure founds; while the afpirated, for the
reafon above mentioned, are more forcible.
Of the fimple mutes, the impure, which have fome little
found of their own, are preferable to the pure which have none.
Of the liquids, L, N, and Ng, have the fweeteft and fullest
founds; M and R, the moft forcible.
The found of L, flowing in an equable manner, through the
mouth only, is the moft pleafing of all; next to that, is Ng,
whofe found paffes partly through the mouth and partly through
the nofe; but neither with the ftrength or liquidity of the
other; the found of M, being formed by a clofe preffure of the
lips, which prevents any found iffuing through the mouth, and
of courfe, forces it entirely through the nofe, is lefs fweet;
though
* Thofe who wish to fee a more particular analyſis of the manner of
applying the organs in the formation of the feveral confonants, may con-
fult Dr. Holder's Elements of Speech, a fmall octavo, London printed
for John Martyn, Printer to the Royal Society, 1699; or that ftill more
curious and elaborate work of Dr. Wilkins's, entitled an Effay towards
a Real Character, which ifped from the Society's Prefs, the year before.
( 120 )
though more forcible than any of the former; and R, being
formed by a ſtrong tremulous motion of the end of the tongue,
has more of force and lefs of fweetnefs, than any of the liquids.
The comparative value of the confonants to each other, may
therefore be eſtimated by the following ſcale:
Simple Mutes,
Impure.
B, D, G, preferable to the
Pure
K,P,T, Nk, in fulneſs and
ſweetneſs of Sound; both
inferior in ftrength to the
Afpirated Mutes.
F, S, Sh, Th[th]
Simple Semivowels.
L, N, Ng, fuperior in ſweetneſs,
but inferior in ftrength to
M, R.
Aſpirated Semivowels.
V, Z, Zh, Th, inferior in fweet-
nefs, but fuperior in ſtrength to
the three first; fuperior in ſweet-
neſs, not equal in ftrength to the
two laft.
For
It is to be obſerved, that the aſpirated mutes F and S, are
formed exactly by the fame pofition of the organs as the aſpi-
rated femivowels V and Z, the only difference is, that the
mutes are formed by the breath only; F, by blowing; S, by
hiffing; while the femivowels have the found of the voice ſuper-
added and blended with that of the breath, as V, Z.
proof of this, after founding the femivowels with the aid of the
voice, let the voice ſtop, and the breathing continue, and the
correfponding mutes will be produced of courfe, without any
change in the poſition of the organs, as V, F, Z, S. The cafe
is exactly parallel between the other four Sh, Zh, th, Th.
Having examined the quality of our confonants, it will now
appear, that the fix letters which we have more than the Greeks,
have greatly enriched our tongue, both in point of ſweetneſs
and ftrength.
We have added to us one of the fineſt founding liquids, Ng.
We have four afpirated femivowels, V, Z, Zh, Th, and one
afpirated mute, Sh.
Two of the afpirated femivowels, V and Z, are fuperior in
ſweetneſs to two of the liquids M and R, and all of them in-
ferior in ftrength to all other confonants, excepting R; and
the aſpirated mute Sh, is fuperior in force to any of the fimple
mutes.
Having adjuſted the quality of all our fimple founde, vowels
as well as confonants, I now proceed to examine the other
article,
( 113 )
article, in which our letters differ from each other, I mean that
of quantity; and, firſt, with reſpect to the vowels.
Of thefe we have three neceffarily fhort, two that may be
called long, as they are generally pronounced fo in our tongue,
and the reft common, being as often uſed in a ſhort as a long
quantity, which may be ſeen by the following ſcheme:
Short.
¿Bet,
Long.
å Hate,
I Bit,
8 Note.
à Cub.
Common,
Short.
å Håt,
Long.
å Father,
¿ Folly,
å Fåll,
ở Hử,
¿ Pool.
* Lovely,
å Påll.
Of theſe the ſhort are made by a ſingle ſmart ftroke of the
voice againſt the feat of their formation, and cannot poffibly
have their founds prolonged, on which account they are never
founded alone, nor ever end a fyllable, but have always a confo-
nant following them, upon which the voice refts, without which
they would be diſagreeable to the ear, as
é, 1, ú, bě, bl, ců.
The long vowels 3, 3, are not in their own nature neceffarily
long, as they can be founded ſhort, but this is done in fo few
words in our language, that they may well go under the deno-
mination of long. The founds of the common vowels in either
quantity are every where to be found throughout our language,
only the fhort founds are more predominant.
The common vowel à, is always marked by the fame charac-
ter, whether in its fhort or long quantity. The fhort found of
, is generally marked by an o, as fall, folly. The ſhort found
of è is ufually marked by a y at the end of a word, or an i, in
any other fituation, and the ſhort found of 3, by a, u.
As to
the confonants, their quantity is eaſily adjuſted; as there are three
vowels neceffarily fhort, fo are there three confonants, and theſe
are the pure mutes, k, p, t, to which may be added nk, ink; the
founds of the impure mutes may be continued for a thort time,
and the founds of the afpirated mutes, and all the femivowels
R
may
( 114 )
may be prolonged while the breath or voice lafts; but there is
no confonant neceffarily long; that is, there is not any which
may not be pronounced in as ſhort a ſpace of time as the pure
mutes; confequently all confonants excepting theſe are common.
I ſhall now exhibit a general Scheme of the Alphabet at one-
view; but it will be of advantage previoufly to call to mind a
practical obfervation or two. That there is an affinity prevailing
among the confonants is, by the laws of Orthoepy, fufficiently
proved; moft of them having refpectively its correlative,
formed precifely in the fame way, and differing only by the
greater or lefs degree of force or preffure given to the organs
in the act of utterance; hence arifes a twofold diftribution of the
confonants into fonorous and occlufe, and thefe are properly
enough diſtinguiſhed by the names, femivowels and mutes.
A femivowel is a confonant formed by a gentle appulfe of the
organs employed, in fuch a way, as to admit a partial emiffion
of the voice, and like a vowel, from which circumſtance the name-
is derived, can be continued at pleaſure.
A mute is a confonant formed by one fmart compreffion of the
organs brought into cloſe contact, intercepting the voice in the
inftant of utterance; as the found of any fingle note on the harp-
fichord is born, and dies the inftant the quill paffes the ſtring.
pe-
If any ſubſequent admixture of breath be perceived in either
femivowel or mute, they are faid to be afpirated, which is
culiar to a few of each clafs; but it is the acceffion or deprivation
of voice which conſtitutes their effential difference, and renders
them femivowels or mutes.
Upon the accuracy and precifion with which theſe actions are
performed, greatly depend the diftinctnefs and perfection of ar-
ticulation; but mere fpeculation muſt not fuperfede practice;
the moſt ingenious theoriſt will admit that no verbal deſcription
on paper, however helpful, can convey adequate ideas of oral
founds, or enable us to utter them with the habitual eaſe and pre-
cifion, ſo neceffary and ornamental in the commerce of life.
That requires living example, with the guidance of an able in-
ftructor; and, on the part of the ftudent, a willing, docile mind,
alive to his own deficiencies, and endued with fuitable talents, at-
tention, affiduity and perfeverance; requifites which can by no
means be difpenfed with, if any thing like proficiency be ex-
pected.
SYNOPSIS
( 115 )
SYNOPSIS of the ALPHABET upon the Principles laid down in
the preceding Pages.
Vowels
9.
Number of Simple Sounds in the Engliſh Language, 29, viż,
ä, a, à, ë, ò, ö e, 1, u,
hall, hat, hate, here, note, move, bet, bit, but.
b, p, v, f, d, t, z, s, th, th, forz, fh.
eb, ep, ev, ef ed, et, ez, es, eth, ett, ezh*, efh.
g, k, l, r, m, n, nk, nk.
Confonants 20.
Superfluous 4.
Compound 3.
Ambiguous 5.
eg, ek, el, er, em, en, eng, enk.
c, having the power of k or s.
q, having the power of k before-u.
w, of oo; and y, of e or i.
j, which ſtands for dzh.
g, in what is called its foft found, for dzh,
in gentle, gin.
x, for ks, or gz.
c, g, t, th, x, as in can, cit; give, gin; title
nation; thine, thin; example, perplex ; feve-
rally affuming a little mark or cerilla for
the fake of diftinction.
th, th, fh, zh,* ng, nk.
6.
I.
11.
7.
Coupled
Afpiration
Mutes
The Confonants divided into Mutes and Semivowels.
Simple Mutes
h, properly not a letter.
eb, ep, ef, ed, et, eg, ek, es, eſh, eth, enk.
eb, ed, eg, ek, ep, et, enk.
Afpirated Mutes
4.
ef, es, eſh, eth.
Semivowels
9.
el, em, en, er, ev, ez, ezh, eth, eng.
Simple Semivowels 5.
Afpirated Semivls. 4.
Labial
Dental
Palatal
Nafal
el, em, en, er, eng.
ev, ez, eth, ezh.
Organically divided into
4. eb, ep, ev, ef.
8. ed, et, ez, es, eth, eth, ezh, efh
4. eg, ek, er.
4. em, en, eng, enk.
Here
For the found of ezh, though frequently heard in our fpeech, we have
no appropriate character; it is occafionally reprefented by f, or z, particu
larly between two vowels.
( 116 )
Here follow, as promifed in a preceding page, fome remark-
able fpecimens of ancient orthography, Latin as well as
Engliſh, for the uſe and entertainment of our younger readers,
Roberti Whitintoni alma in vniuerfitate oxonienfi laureati de
octo partibus orationis æditio. Prima trahit part: primordia
dina loquēdi ad fociafq; huius ianua prima patet. Vber dis ales
iungas ijs a pede nata. Cis fluuij avt montis proprijs dato, citra
alijfq;... Dij deæ dijs fic ij eæ pluralis & ijdem. Londini
in Ædibus VVinandi de VVorde.
Tityre tv patvlæ recvbans fub tegmine fagi,
Sylueftrem tenvi Mufam meditaris auena :—
Afpice, aratra ivgo refervnt fufpenfa iuuenci.
Dic mihi Damoeta cuium pecvs. &c.
Arma uirvmq; cano, Troie qvi primvs ab oris, &c.
Ego fic uivamq; tanqvam ſciam alijs me natvm, &c.
Cicero and Cæfar were by the Greeks written Kingw, [Kikero]
and Kaoag [Kaifar,]; for IULIVS or JULIUS the Greeks
wrote IOYAIO [10 ULIO S] and for VESPASIANUS,
OYEƐHAZIANO2, [OUESPASIANOS]; whence we may infer,
that the true Roman pronunciation of Latin and ours very widely
differ in other reſpects, as well as theſe. In a fimilar manner, fome
Northern Nations at this day, for Viſtula fay Wiſtula, for Volga
Wolga; alfo for Wilhelmina Vilhelmina; and for Danube they
write Danvbe.
Sir John Maundeville, more celebrated for his ſcholarſhip
than his veracity, died upwards of 80, An. 1371; in the ge-
nuine Edition of his Book of Travels, writes bewtee, duellethe,
mownt, faughe, fowked, rihtwife unrihtwifenefs, &c. for beauty,
dwelleth, mount, faw, fucked, righteous, unrighteoufnefs, &c.
Robert Aſhley was a traveller of fomewhat later note; in his
Relation of the Kingdome of Cochin-China, he writes, I haue
bin fo often the vnvvorthee obiect of your generous goodneſs and
vppon everij occation in vvhich I haue addrefs'd mifelf, &c. alfo
alluaie, cloues, daij, daijs, deuour, Iapan, Iaua, Indja, ioyning,
Iuie, oual, fauoury, faluages, viuacity, &c. for alway, cloves,
day, days, devour, Iapan, Java, India, joining, Ivy, oval, fa-
voury, favaes, vivacity, &c.
Sir
( 117 )
Sir John Fortefcue, Lord Chief Juftice, under Henry VI, who
could not be a ftranger to the orthography of his own time,
affords among divers others, the following inftances: applyd,
bowndyn, efquyers, by's, hou, howfys, inough, yf, yħ, Kyng,
neceffarijs, fuficyently, tymes, wyll, weffells, Weftmentes, &c.
for applied, bounden, efquires, his, how, houfes, enough, if,
ill, king, neceflaries, fufficiently, times, will, veffels, velt-
mentes; alfo for queen, qwene and Cwen, which laft, immediately
from the Saxon, Verftigan interprets fimply wife; perhaps em-
phatically applied to the confort of the King, the wife, as we
now apply the word Bible, the book, by way of eminence, to
the Holy Scriptures.
In a very ancient mifcellaneous account of Britain, quarto,
pp. 386, caret titulo, we have howen, houere, and heven,
hwere, for when, where; hwatte, hwie, for what, why; VVal-
denfes, Vvaldenfes and VValdenfes. Uvaldenjes for Waldenſes; and
VVickliffe, Vvickliffe, Vickliffe and Uvickliffe for Wickliffe.
Hauing diſcovrfed &c. of impreffes, coynes, monijs and diuerfe
vſeful mattieres therein contained, the Avthovre under the hedde
of VVittie Apothegemes and Vije Speeches in vitice to himſelle
ande eke in his goode ivdgemente adioynethe.
This vfuall ſpeech of Sir Thomas Moore, both of himſelf and
other Book-breeders, which is alfo extant in an Epistle of his. I
haue refolued to cloſe vp this part. Book-makers are full wije
folke, who paine and pine them felues away by writing, to jubiect
themelues to the cenfure of fuch which in Ordinaries and in Ale-
benches will pill and pull them by their voords, phrafes, and lines,
as it were by the beards; vohen fome of them are fo pild themfelues,
as that they have not one baire of honefty; or to vſe his owne
words, Ne pilum boni hominis. But thefe he refembleth to thoſe
vumannerly guelts, vvhich vvhen they haue bin vvell and kindly
entertained flinch avvay neuer giuing thanks, but deprauing and dif-
praifing their curtcous entertainment.
A reuerend Man, my firft teacher, quoth likwife our old
writer, did often admonish thofe that bin giuen to forrow abovɩ
worldlie difappointmentes fajinge there bin two things no manne
ovlde lette grieue him, that he cann helpe, and that he cann nott helpe.
VVife alfo vvas that faying of Doctoure Medcalf, Yov young
men do thinke vs old men to be fooles; but vve old men do knovv thai
you young men are foules.
OF
( 118 )
OF DIPTHONGS.
THERE is no article in which all who have written on the Eng-
liſh Grammar, have been more miſtaken than this of dipthongs ;
they ſeem entirely to have forgotten the meaning of the word,
which fignifies double founding, and have only attended to the
written language, and called thoſe double founding which are
double written; were there another term for thefe, the error
would foon be manifeft; the latter ſhould be called digraphs and
not dipthongs. In order to fhew this, let us firft define what a
true dipthong is. A true dipthong is the union of two vowels in
one articulate found, fo as to conftitute but one fyllable, though
the found of each vowel be diftinctly perceived by the ſkilful ear,
in ſo much that he who hears it may be able to tell of what par-
ticular vowels it is compofed; and the only teft of a true dip-
thong is the natural and neceffary production of ſuch a ſound,
upon attempting to reduce two vowels fo joined into one fyllable ;
nor are all vowels capable of fuch a union, but only a few, which
fhall preſently be fhewn.
All the writers of Grammar are agreed in ſaying, fix proper
dipthongs and nine improper, becauſe though in the latter two
vowels are prefented to the eye, the found of one only is heard;
for inftance, the ea has four different founds of fimple vowels,
in the words heart, fwear, head, féar.
But for the fame reafon, most of thoſe which they call proper
dipthongs, must be excluded by every unprejudiced and ſkilful
ear. The fix proper dipthongs which they admit, are ai, au,
ci, oi, oo, ou; of theſe only three are dipthongs, ai, oi, ou; the reft
ſimple ſounds, as has been already fhewn in the ſcheme of the
vowels; ai is a dipthong made up of the first found of à, and
the fhort found of è, as reprefented by y. For proof of this let
any one found thoſe two vowels flowly at firft, and afterwards
quicken the pronunciation gradually till they coalefce into one fyl-
lable, and he will perceive the dipthong to be the natural and
neceffary product of this attempt, as a
e, a e, a e, ay,
ai; but this dipthong is at preſent ſcarce uſed in our language.
Words where ai or ay are united in one fyllable have the
fimple found of fecond a, as in maid, frail; the old pronunciation
e, a
of
( 119 )
of maid, frail, being now exploded and confidered as a country
dialect. The dipthong oi is compofed in the fame manner of
å or ä, and è, e or y, as ä ë, ä ë, äy, äi, öi, noiſe, joys.
The dipthong ou, or ow, is formed out of the 3d a, or ä
and 3d o, or ö; three of them evidently ſtand for fimple founds,
au for 3d a, or ä, as in Saul, the fame found as call, marked in
the laft by a fingle vowel; the two oo's for 3d o, as cool, prove.
If all this muſt be allowed, it follows to appearance, that we
have but two dipthongs in our tongue, ai being now obſolete,
and thofe are oi, or oy, as in noife, boys, and ou, or ow,
as in out, owl, and confequently that our language is very de-
fective in the article of dipthongs. But upon a cloſer examination
it will appear that we have a greater number of dipthongs, and
a greater variety, than perhaps any other tongue ever had,
though through want of ſkill in founds, our grammarians never..
confidered or pointed them out as fuch.
In order to make this matter clear, it will be neceffary to ex-
amine the nature of two characters which appear in our alphabet,
that are not to be found in the Hebrew, Greek, Latin or French
I mean the w and y. The figure of the y indeed is found both
in the Latin and French alphabets, but as it only fupplies the
place of the vowel i in certain fituations, and is never put in
either to the ufe which we make of it; it is to all intents and
purpoſes a new character with us.
In claffing theſe two letters, all our grammarians upon the
authority of Wallis, have agreed to call them confonants, but
the reaſons affigned for this, are by no means conclufive; on the
contrary, there are unanswerable objections to their being ad-
mitted into that clafs. It has been an indiſputable point in all
languages, that the found of every confonant is diftinguiſhable
after every vowel, which their very name implies. Now let
thefe two letters be tried by this rule, and if they have no pro-
per found of their own after any vowel whatfoever, but on the
contrary affume the power of two vowels, the one of u and the
other of i, how can they be claffed with a fpecies of letters from
which they differ in fo effential a point?
But it is faid, that although they have no proper found after
a vowel, yet they have one peculiar to themſelves before a vowel
and mixing with them, can take in the following confonants, fo
as
( 120 )
as to make one fyllable, and that therefore they are confonants ;
but they who judge thus, forget that this is the very defcription
of a vowel preceding another vowel, fo as to form a dipthong,
and therefore, it does not follow, that fuch letters are neceffarily
confonants.
On the other hand it may be urged, that if they are fimple
letters, they must be either vowels or confonants; and if, for the
reafons before mentioned, they fhould be allowed not to be con-
fonants, they muſt alſo be excluded from the clafs of vowels, if
we cannot pronounce them by themſelves in one fimple found,
marking their nature and own peculiar power, which is the very
effence of vowels. Now it is granted, that this is not done in the
names affigned to theſe two letters of w and y, and if it cannot be
done, it muſt be allowed that the argument against their being
vowels will be equally conclufive with that against their being
confonants; but this can be done, and their peculiar founds as
fingle vowels pointed out, as I fhall prefently fhew. The want of
a fufficient number of characters to mark the different founds of
our vowels, has been already clearly demonftrated; now let us
fee, whether thefe two characters in what is called their confonant
ftate, be any thing elſe but marks of two fingle vowels enumerated
in the ſcheme of vowels, which had before no peculiar characters
to repreſent them. It is allowed that they are pure vowels when
they end a word; as in that cafe, they only ſtand in the place of
two others which have already characters, and therefore they are
fuperfluous. Their confonant ftate, it is faid, commences only
when they begin a fyllable or take in a vowel after them; thus,
in the word faw, w is allowed to be a vowel, fupplying the place
of u, which in moſt fituations, excepting at the end of a word,
is uſed to repreſent the fame found that w has after a vowel, and
this ufe of the w feems to have taken its rife from fome fantaſti-
cal mode of ſpelling in former times, which gave a preference to
the w, at the end of many words, for no good reaſon that can be
affigned, as ſome words ftill preſerve the final u; ſuch as thou,
you; but in the words want, thwart, &c. the w is faid to be a
confonant. In like manner, y in the words dry, ally, &c. is
allowed to be a vowel, fupplying the place of i, and this feems
alſo to have taken its rife from a fantaſtical mode of fpelling,
whieh laid it down as a rule, however puerile and unmeaning, that
no word in our language ſhould be feen to terminate with an i;
but
驴
​( 121 )
but in the words young, ye, &c. it is a confonant. Now if L
can point out two founds of the vowels, as fet down in the
ſcheme, that have no peculiar characters to mark them, which pre-
ceding any other vowel and uniting with it, have neceffarily the
whole power and pronunciation that y and w are poffeffed of in
the like fituation, we ſhall be no longer at a lofs to know what claſs
they belong to. The truth is, that w is nothing more than the
fhort found of 3d o, or oo, as in boom, pool, repreſented often by
u. as in buſh, pull; and y the ſhort found of 3d e or ee, repreſented,
as I already marked in the ſcheme, by the character y. For proof
of this, let them be tried by the experiment before mentioned,
as the tell of a true dipthong; to begin with w, before 3d a or
au, as in the word war, ở ai, ở ar, ở ẩn, ở ảr, war; is not
the found war neceffarily produced by this proceſs. Now to try
the fame experiment with y, before the fame vowel, as in yawl,
e awl, e awl, e awl, e awl, yawl, is not a like effect, alſo
neceffarily produced.
The pronoun, you, and the name of our laſt vowel u, are in
found preciſely the fame; as are alſo the poffeffive, your, and the
old word, ure, practice; the fame may be obſerved of others; in
both thefe inflances y begins a word preceding a vowel, and yet
is certainly not a confonant, any more than u, which alſo begins
many words, as any one, in aid of his recollection, may find in
his dictionary. If preceding a vowel at the beginning of a word
conftituted a confonant, the letter a in aid, muſt be a conſonant
alſo, and fo muſt almoſt every one of our vowels which are oc-
caſionally applied in the fame way.
*
This
* By way of illuftration accept a little ftory. When Rich, the Patentee
Manager of Covent-Garden, firſt brought out his fplendid pantomime of
Orpheus and Euridice, the admirers of fuch entertainments, having con-
ceived highly of its excellence, thronged from all quarters to fee the exhibition.
A country gentleman, who on the day of repreſentation, had made a ſmart
journey to town on horfeback, hurried off to the theatre without making
any alteration in his dreſs, and huſtling into the boxes, told an acquaintance
there before him, he was come to fee Orpheus; and, rejoins the friend,
pointing to his boots, you rid I fee. Thus fportively helping out the title and
obviating unneceffary explanations-Here is a cafe in point. If y preced-
ing a vowel be, as fonie would have it, a confonant in the equivoque,
You-rid-I-fee; for the fame reafon e in Euridice, the name itſelf, muſt be a
confonant alſo, fince in found they are precifely the fame, and every vowel,
Greek or Engliſh, is, occafionally in the fame predicament, and ſubject to
the
( 122 )
This fufficiently demonftrates the nature of thofe two letters,
by the only fure teſt of ſounds, the ear; not the capricious rules
of grammarians; and as a farther confirmation of the truth of
this, I will fhew that even in writing, the two vowels i and u,
for whofe fhort founds the characters y and w, ftand in many
words, produce exactly the fame founds; u, fupplies the place
of w, after gg and q, and often after s, as in the words language,
quality, perfuade, which found as if written with a w, as lang-
wage, qwality, perfwade; in the fame manner, i is often put
before a vowel in the place of y, as in the words endemious, im-
pervious, valiant, founded as if written endemyus, impervyus,
valyant.
The want of knowing this has miſled our grammarians in
their manner of dividing fyllables in all words of this ſtructure,
for they make as many fyllables in them as they fee vowels;
whereas the two vowels fo fituated, really form a dipthong, and
conſequently but one fyllable. Accordingly our poets always
uſe them as fuch, as in the word impervious, which is with them
a word of three fyllables only, and valiant but of two; whereas,
our grammarians make the former four, and latter three; upon
the fame miſtaken principle, they often divide a fyllable into two
where theſe vowels are founded together. In writing they do
not even form a dipthong, and thereby really but one found of
a fimple vowel is heard in the pronunciation. Thus they reckon
in the very laſt word I have uttered, five fyllables, pro-nun-ci-a-
ti-on, whereas the ear acknowleges but four, as the eye would
alſo, if the word was fpelt as it is pronounced, thus pro-nun-ſha-
fhun. In the fame manner they divide ſuch words as quef-ti-on,
bef-ti-al, into three fyllables, though they are evidently but
two, when ſpelt according to their found, as quefchun or quef-
thun, beſchal or bestЛhal. Into many errors of this kind have
they been led, by adopting rules from other tongues which are
not at all fitted to ours. This rule they evidently took from the
Latin,
the like metamorphofes; a pofition, however extraordinary it may ap-
pear, that wants not right grave, and learned authority to fupport it-
The following is a paffage literally in print: "The kingdom of confonants
finks and diffolves infenfibly into that of vowels, in the fame progreffive
manner as the kingdom of vowels rifes by imperceptible degrees to that
of confonants." Thus vowels and confonants, each is both or either, as
humours and conceits fhall govern. What a capital diſcovery for the
manufacture of punfters, the very effence and foul of whofe art confifts in
the perverfion of words and letters.
( 123 )
Latin, becauſe in that language, the word pronunciatio was a
word of fix fyllables and founded fo; queftio, beftia, words of
three; but they did not reflect, that when words of that claſs
were adopted into our tongue, we changed their founds by a ge-
neral law, and made them conform to the English pronunciation,
the cia of the Latin was changed into the English fha; the tio,
into cho or fho, founds unknown to the Romans, as words of
this kind abound in our tongue. Nothing has contributed fo
much to miſlead foreigners and provincials as that falfe rule adopted
from the Latin. In confequence of which, I have known many
to pronounce in that way, fuch as, what is the right pro-nun-si-
a-si-on of that word? The ques-ti on is how bes-ti-al; than
which nothing could be more affected to an Engliſh ear, amongſt
whom it is ridiculed by the term of ſpeaking fine.
It is to be obſerved, that the French have in their tongue, both
the founds that are formed by w, and y, when preceding ſome of
the vowels, though they are marked by different characters. The
w does not indeed appear in their alphabet, but their ou be-
fore a vowel, when forming a dipthong, produces exactly the
fame found; oui, which fignifies yes, in French, has exactly the
fame found as, we, the pronoun plural of the first perfon with us.
As this ſound therefore, is never to be found in the French, but
when either o or u, precede a vowel, and thoſe two vowels have
the ſound of oo; it is evident that our w, is nothing more than
a new character to ſtand for that found when it forms a dipthong
with a ſubſequent vowel.
Though in French, they have the character y, which they call
igrec, yet it is hardly ever applied the fame way as with us, that
of forming a dipthong, which is generally done by i; and the
French y feldom has any found in their tongue, but what they
give it in repeating their alphabet.*
Had
* A late French Grammarian, contending for the honour of his vernacular
tongue, with, it muſt be confeffed, fome cafual exceptions on the ſcore of
politeffe, enumerates no lefs than forty-fix dipthongs in French; with what
precifion the adepts must determine; I acknowlege myſelf incompetent to
the complicated taſk. On the contrary, another, who after his name writes
L. L. D. of the Univerſity of Paris, and roundly declares, "after a long
courfe of refidence and extenfive converfation, he had found but one man of
ſenſe in all England," poſitively afferts, "there is not one fingle dipthong to
be found in the French Language," and this, to adopt his own words, he
demonfrates on the true principles of Geometry: with fubmiflion to this irre-
fragable Doctor, I ſhould think Algebra would have been a term rather more
germain to the matter. "Who fhall decide when Doctors difagree?".
( 124 )
Had our grammarians confulted theirs, they would have found
that they reckon in their tongue eight true dipthongs, al-
moſt all of them beginning with i or u; now all theſe form ex-
actly the fame founds, when united with vowels, as our y, and
w, which one would think might have opened their eyes, and
prevented their miſtaking them for confonants.
Though the character w, be not found in the Roman alphabet,
no more than in the French, yet the u fupplied its place with
them, and formed ſeveral dipthongs of the fame kind, feven of
which may be found in the article qui, quæ, quod, quem, quam,
quo and quum; and this u, we have good reafon to believe, was
founded oo by them, in the manner as by the modern Italians,
for dominus, as the English found, they probably faid dominos.
But with regard to the i, it was never put to the uſe of our y
in forming dipthongs, as it was always founded diftinctly before
a vowel, and formed a feparate fyllable; thus queftio, beftia,
were words of three fyllables with them, and not reduced to two
in the pronunciation, as with us in the words, queſtion, beſtial;
Virgilius was four, and not Virgilyus, as pronounced by the Eng-
liſh, which makes it but three; but it was not fo with regard to
the dipthongs formed by their u, inſtead of our w; lingua, like
language with us, was a word of two fyllables only, and qualitas,
like quality, of three. There has been enough faid to fhew the
nature of theſe two letters, and indeed our grammarians feem to
have been puzzled chiefly by the names affigned them in repeat-
ing the alphabet. For had the y been called y, as it is by the
French ygrec, and the w, 3, which they ſhould have been (in
order to mark their peculiar powers) there could have been no
poffible doubt of the claſs to which they muſt be referred.
By fettling this point, there is laid open to our view, a treaſure
in our language, which had a veil thrown over it by our gram-
marians. For whereas, according to their rule, we fhould be able
to make out but two or three proper dipthongs in our tongue,
and thoſe chiefly to be found in the middle or end of fyllables;
here we perceive a greater number than probably ever could be
found in any other tongue, and thoſe too, abounding in the be-
ginning of fyllables. No founds enrich a tongue fo much as dip-
thongs, which were called by the ancients Euphonoi, or well
founding; and by means of theſe characters, it will appear
that we have no less than twenty-one different dipthongs formed,
and all proper, as may be ſeen by the following fcheme:
Dipthongs
( 125 )
Dipthongs formed by W.
a
waft,
wage,
e
wed,
war.
week,
i
wit,
wine,
· =
0
want,
word,
woe,
wolf.
WOO.
Dipthongs formed by Y.
yare,
a
yard,
e
yet,
0-
yon,
u
young.
yoke.
yawl.
year.
youth,
And theſe founds are to be found intermixed throughout our
language in the middle of fyllables alfo, though in that cafe they
are not marked by a W. and Y. but by U. and I. as in the words
perfuade, beftial, &c.
Now to examine the ſtate of our other dipthongs, and firſt the
two that appear in our alphabet as fimple founds, being marked
by ſingle characters the i and u.
Dipthongs are formed in three ways: 1ft, where the greateſt
quantity of found is given to the firſt vowel, as in ai, oi: 2dly.
where it is given to the fecond as in u, and in all the dipthongs
formed by ſhort y, or w preceding, with a long vowel, yoke,
year; ware, war: 3dly. Where the quantity is equally divided,
as in i or ou, when pronounced in the ſhorteſt time; though
when they are dwelt upon, the laſt vowel muſt be predominant as
I, thou; and in all the dipthongs formed by y, and w, before
an accented vowel. The value of dipthongs may be eſtimated by
the quality and quantity of their compound vowels; thus oi, is
better than i, becauſe the greater proportion of found in the
former, is borrowed from the full broad a, or å; and the latter
from the flender ẻ. Ou, for the like reaſon, is better than u,
becauſe the first is made up of å, ỏ, and the laſt of ẻ, ¿. Oil is
a better found than iſle, and thou than you; which is the reafon
that though the pronoun thou, be banished from difcourfe, it is
fill preſerved by our writers of tragedy and epic poetry, as a found
of more dignity.
On the fame account all dipthongs formed by w, are better
founding than thoſe formed by y, as the labial o, is preferable
to
( 126 )
to the palatal è; wall is a finer found than yawl; woo, than
you; and the dipthongs accordingly in cur tongue formed by w,
abound much more than thoſe formed by y, as may be ſeen by
comparing the number of words in the dictionary, commencing
with w, with thofe beginning with y. It is to be obferved, that
å, ẻ, and ó̟ are the only founds that precede vowels in the for-
mation of dipthongs in our tongue, and of theſe a only can retain
its long found, the other two having always their fhort founds,
when they precede a vowel, and their long one only after a
vowel. As to the quantity of dipthongs, though in general they
are long, yet they are not neceffarily fo, as all of them are capa-
ble of being reduced to the time of a fhort vowel, by a rapid
utterance, and ſometimes are, as fhall be fhewn hereafter.
In comparing our tongue with others in regard to the number
of dipthongs, it will be found upon examination, that the French
have only eight; for though there may be two more found in their
tongue, yet it is in fo few words, that they ſhould be ſtruck off
the lift, for the fame reaſon that I have difcarded three from
ours. The Romans had ten, and the Greeks fix.
From this view, it would appear at firft. that the Greeks in this
refpect, were inferior both to the Romans and French. But there
is fomething elfe to be taken into compariſon befide the mere num-
ber, which is, the ufe made of them. The mere number of ſounds
will not make a language rich, unleſs their founds be propor-
tionably mixed and blended through it; the mifer may efteem
himſelf rich, but his wealth fhould be eſtimated by what he ex-
pends; and there is alfo another point of comparifon, which
is, not only the abundant, but the proper ufe of them.
in languages, as in fortunes, it will be found, that a moderate
eftate with economy, will produce more real plenty to the owners,
than a very large one without it. In this light, it would appear,
that the Greck abounds infinitely more in dipthongs, than either
the Roman or French. They had the addrefs too, to place
them in the molt confpicuous light, by putting them at the be-
Whereas, both in
ginning and end of fyllables and words.
And
Latin and French, they are generally placed in the middle of
words, and obfcured by fome preceding or fubfequent confonant
taken into their found. Whoever will examine the Greek
Lexicon, will perceive what a number of words are to be found
under the heads Ai, Ci, and Eu; but none in the Latin Dic-
tionary,
( 127 )
tionary, except a few words adopted into their language from
the Greek.
The Engliſh have luckily the fame plenty, the fame uſe, and
a much greater variety of dipthongs; upon fumming up, the ac-
count ftands thus:
The Greeks 6.
The French
8.
The Romans IO.
The English
26.
I fhall clofe this head of double founds, or dipthongs, with a
few collateral obfervations, previous to the difcuffion of another
point, equally miſtaken, the hiatus ; a term given by gram-
marians to the meeting together of two vowels, which in fome
cafes, not all, occaſions a difficulty, ftop or fort of gap in utter-
ance, at the ſame time reprobated and exemplified by Pope, in
the last line of the following couplet in his Effay on Criticiſm,
Some equal fyllables alonc require,
Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire.
Doctor Wallis's Grammar, which is admirably drawn up with
reſpect to our written language, is full of errors in the few paf-
fages which relate to found. He ſeems on this occafion to have
been led into a mistake, by mifapplying a maxim, which he had
juttly laid down with regard to the number and manner of form-
ing the vowels; for it is certain, that in founding thofe, the or-
gans muſt be all properly placed, before any found is emitted,
nor do they ever change that pofition during the continuanee of
the found, fo that there is no action of the tongue perceptible
in forming the vowel, as there is in the greatest number of the
confonants. Now perceiving an action of the tongue in forming
all founds where y precedes a vowel, and unites with it, he too
hattily concluded, that upon this principle, y muſt be a confo-
nant. But he did not confider that the tongue is neceffarily in
different pofitions, when it forms the different fimple vowels;
and confequently that there must be a perceptible action of the
tongue, when it changes from one pofition to another, in order
to pronounce another vowel; thus, in founding , for inftance,
the tongue lies clofe to the teeth, and is in the ufual poſture
which it has when the mouth is fhut. But when we attempt to
pronounce
( 128 )
pronounce à, the under jaw defcends, and the tongue retires to-
wards the throat; this will be immediately perceived by every
one who will found the two vowels e, å. In the firſt, the tongue
touches the teeth; it ſeparates itſelf from them in the fecond,
and confequently the dipthong cannot be formed without a per-
ceptible action of the tongue, as yå: this was the reaſon affigned
by Wallis, and he has been implicitly followed by all our gram-
marians, in making w and y confonants. Mr. Johnfon, amongſt
the reft, agrees with him in this, but affigned a different reaſon
for it; as a proof of their being confonants, he ſays, they follow
a vowel without any hiatus; and he inſtances in the words
frofty-winter, rofy-youth. By which he ſeems to take it for
granted, that no vowel can follow another without an hiatus;
no poet mult in future
Soothe with Amelia's liquid name the Nine,
for fear of breaking the legs of his reputation over this ftumbling
block of the critics; for the i and a fucceeding in Amelia, muit
according to them be denounced an hiatus. The charming name
of Eloifa too, where the i follows the o, muft have an hiatus in
it; her beautiful lines
Yet then to thofe dread altars as I drew,
Not on the crofs my eyes were fixed, but you;
Not grace or zeal, love only was my call,
And if I lofe thy love, I lofe my all.
muſt have two inftances of the fame kind, in the words my eyes,
my all. How muft the noble language of Greece have abounded
in the hiatus, if it was conftituted by one vowel fucceeding
another? in that cafe, we muſt be taught not to admire thoſe fine
founds Ανδρες Αθηναίοι-Οιωνισι τε πασι-Πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλασσης.
Amazing that he ſhould not know, that it is only in fome of the
vowels fucceeding each other, that the hiatus is perceived, and
that chiefly in thoſe of the firſt claſs; thoſe of the ſecond and
third, as well as dipthongs in general, may be followed by any
vowel without any ſuch effect.—O, all ye powers!—but rules and
criticiſm with refpect to found, are not to be fought from mere
men of letters that is not their province.
:
EXTRACTS AND ORIGINAL PIECES,
FOR THE
INFORMATION AND IMPROVEMENT
of
STUDENTS
IN THE
ART OF READING AND PUBLIC SPEAKING.
A COMPARATIVE VIEW *
OF THE STATE OF LANGUAGE RESPECTING ANCIENT AND
MODERN INSTITUTION.
FROM a review of all the nations of antiquity, we fhall find
that the human language was but little advanced towards perfec-
tion, excepting amongſt the Greeks and Romans. The different
forms of the different languages of the world, neceffarily arofe
from the different forms into which the human mind was moulded
in the feveral countries, of which language was the copy. And
the mind took its form from the different degrees of afcendancy,
which the three great powers by which it is governed, obtained:
I mean Reaſon, Fancy, Paffion. In Greece, where the rational
faculties held their due rank, in governing the reft, and regulating
the fancy and the paffions; the human mind had its due fhape,
proportion, and complexion; and correfpondent to that was the
fize, fymmetry, and beauty of their language, which was its
tranfcript. Conviction, and perfuafion, being amongſt them ef-
fential to government, the language by which theſe ends were to
be obtained, muſt have had ita foundation in reafon and nature.
In countries, where paffion had the afcendancy, the mind, reduced
to an almoſt brutal ftate, expreffed itſelf chiefly in the language
of brutes. In thoſe ſtates where the uſeful arts only were intro-
duced, or the attention of the people was wholly engaged by
commerce,
T
* This is printed verbatim from a manuſcript of Mr. Sheridan's given
to the Author of the preceding pages for the purpoſe.
( 130 )
commerce, the language was chiefly formed to anſwer thofe ends.
And in thoſe larger empires, where government was carried on by
working on the imagination, fancy bore the chief fway, and their
language of courfe was fantaftical.
To fome of the above defcriptions may all the languages of
antiquity be referred, as well as thofe of the greateſt part of
nations, now inhabiting three quarters of the globe. But with
regard to moſt of the languages at this time ſpoken in Europe,
a new accidental caufe produced remarkable effects, and turned
things in a great meaſure out of the ufual and natural course.
When the Goths and Vandals had put an end to the language,
as well as the empire of the Romans, the barbarous manners and
ſpeech of thoſe rude nations, fupplanted the more poliſhed Roman,
in all places where they made fettlements, and the greateſt part
of Europe was reduced almoft to the loweſt ſtate of barbarifm
in which it remained during many ages. At length in the fifteenth
century, the languages and arts of old Greece and Rome, had as
it were a reſurrection from the tombs in which they had fo long
been buried. This could not fail of effecting a remarkable change
in the manners of thofe nations, where theſe languages and arts
were introduced. From barbarous and brutal, they gradually
became more poliſhed and humane; and a long night of ignorance,
was fucceeded by a dawn of knowlege, which promiſed a glori-
ous day. They were no longer circumfcribed, by the narrow
compaſs of ideas, with which their own language and cuftoms
might furnish them, like former countries in the fame circum-
ftances with themſelves; no they had an immenſe hoard of know-
lege, the painful collection of ages, amongſt the wifeft and moſt
civilized nations that had ever inhabited this globe, at once pre-
fented to view, and offered to their uſe. And happy had it been
for theſe times if our anceſtors had known how to make a proper
uſe of this treaſure, ſo as to enrich themſelves to the degree that
they might have done, and to have handed down the noble inhe-
ritance to pofterity. But instead of applying the funds of moral
and political knowlege, found in the works of ancient authors,
to the amendment of their feveral political ſtates; inſtead of en-
deavouring to improve their own languages, by the noble models
that were preſented to them in thofe of Greece and Rome; men
of the brighteft parts, applied themſelves every where to the ac-
quirement of a critical ſkill in thofe languages, without any other
end in view; and thofe of more folid underſtanding, were
wholly
( 131 )
wholly ingroffed by the ſtudy of the worst part of ancient litera-
ture handed down to us, that of the Greek philofophy; which
being in general founded in errour, as it occafioned endleſs
controverfies amongſt the Ancients themſelves, could not fail of.
producing the fame effects amongst the Moderns. Thus a gene-
ral ſpirit of pedantry in polite literature, from which the prefent
times are far from being free, prevailed in Europe; and falfe
ſyſtems of philoſophy, which have been but lately overthrown,
were every where eſtabliſhed. How far this fpirit of pedantry,
and the general application of men of the greateſt abilities, might
have affected the political interefts of the feveral ftates of
Europe, is beyond my prefent purpoſe to enquire. I fhall only
obferve by the way, that previous to the revival of letters, moſt
of the governments eſtabliſhed by our Gothic anceſtors, were
either free, or the people engaged in ftruggles for their freedom.
But in all thofe countries where this ardour for ancient literature
prevailed, they loft their liberty. And this was an effect naturally
to be expected; for when men of the greateſt abilities in a ſtate,
who alone are capable of oppofing or fruftrating the deſigns of
ambitious ufurpation, withdraw from the active, to the contem-
plative life, they leave the field open for tyranný to enter, and
range in at large.
But it is immediately to my point to enquire what effect this
had upon language, and more particularly upon that of our own
country. There are two kinds of language, by which the un-
derſtanding may be enlightened, and the mind of man formed;
the ſpoken, and the written: the one conveyed to the mind
through the ear, by the voice uttering articulate founds or
words; the other preſented to the eye, by means of viſible marks.
And it is generally thought that the one is equally well calcu-
lated to anſwer the end as the other. But as I have in a former dif-
courſe demonftrated that this opinion is erroneous, and that ſome
of the nobleft purpoſes of ſocial communication, can not poſ-
fibly be attained, by any language but that which proceeds from
the living voice, it is a matter of great moment to confider,
what the confequence must be, of giving the preference to
written language in any country; more efpecially in ours, who
have not only given the preference to it, but employed all our
pains about that, neglecting utterly that which is fpoken. A
circumftance
( 132 )
circumſtance in which we differ from the practice of all civilized
nations, ancient and modern.
In order to this let us compare the conduct of the Greeks in
this refpect, with our own, article by article, and fee what good
and bad effects naturally and neceffarily followed from the differ-
ent methods.
THE GREEKS
EMPLOYED their chief care
and attention about their living
tongue.
of
They examined the power
founds in the fimple elements or
letters with the utmoft nicety;
whether they were long or fhort,
fmooth or harfh, ftrong or weak.
They learned to pronounce fyl-
lables and words with the great-
eft exactneſs of proportion both
in time and found, or quantity
and quality.
They were taught to deliver
their fentiments, or repeat the
productions of others, in all the
variety of tones, that nature or
art had fupplied, as expreffions
of the feveral paffions, emotions
of the mind, or exertions of the
fancy; and theſe were accom-
panied with fuitable looks and
gefture. All three in unifon to
each other, and forming perfect
harmony, by obferving the niceſt
relative proportions in each.
Their public fpeakers could
gain attention upon whatever
topic
T
THE ENGLISH
ABOUT their written lan-
guage.
We learn to know the letters
that repreſent thoſe founds in
writing, without enquiring at
all into the power or nature of
thofe founds, fo reprefented.
W'e to pronounce fyllables and
words without regard either to
the one or the other; and it is
only neceffary that the learners
fhould fhew by their pronuncia-
tion, that they know what fyl-
lables and words the letters ftand
for.
We are taught to deliver our
own exerciſes, or the works of
others, with little or no variation
of voice, or elſe with fome dif-
agreeable difcordant cant, ap-
plied to all fentences alike; with-
out any accompaniments of looks
or geſture, or elſe with ſuch as
are improper, ungraceful, or diſ-
guſting.
The moſt numerous body of
our public fpeakers, who have
their
(
133 )
A
"
topic they spoke, from the mere
delight that people took in liften-
ing to them: But upon any fub-
ject that concerned the temporal
interefts of their auditors, they
could work upon their paffions
in fuch a way, as to deter them
from what appeared wrong, and
incite them to the purfuit of
what was right.
Amongst them, attention to
exactneſs in uttering found, pro-
duced an equal attention to ex-
actneſs in marking thoſe founds
in writing; which was done by
them in the most precife, clear,
and uniform manner; fo that to
pronounce the words properly
at fight, required little more
than a thorough knowlege of
the letters which compofed them;
and to fpell them properly in
writing, little more was necef-
ſary than to be able to form the
letters, both in natives and
foreigners who learned their
tongue.
Their words were always
fpelt, as they were pronounced.
Their writers, being perfect
mafters of compofition, which
they were regularly taught, al-
ways fuited their numbers to
their fubject; and arranged
their words in fuch a way in
metre, as might give the moſt
forcible expreffion to their fen-
timents, and afford the greateft
variety of numbers, fo as to
pleaſe
their choice of all manner of
topics, in which not only the
temporal, but the eternal inte-
refts of mankind, are moſt
nearly concerned, are ſo far
from working upon men to
purfue their true interefts, that
they have it not in their power
even to gain their attention.
Amongst us through the want
of confidering the nature and
power of founds, our written
alphabet is fo defective and our
manner of ſpelling words, fo ir-
regular, that a juft pronuncia-
tion, and proper manner of
fpelling words are acquired only
by a few of the natives, and
are almoſt impracticable to fo-
reigners.
Ours feldom.
Ours, ignorant of all prin-
ciples of compofition, which
they are never taught, write
wholly from ear, and in much
the fame kind of numbers, what-
ever be the ſubject. Inftead of
variety and expreffion, melody
and ſmoothneſs are chiefly at-
tended to both in their periods
and verfes, by thoſe who are
moft
(
134 )
D
pleafe without cloying the ear,
when repeated.
1
They had mufic mafters whofe
chief cffice it was to teach peo-
ple a well measured and harmo-
nious delivery; by which all fo
inftructed acquired an article of
the utmoſt importance in public
life, and a moft pleaſing orna-
ment in private intercourfe.
They had dancing mafters
whofe chief office it was to re-
gulate all the motions of the hu-
man frame, and all the attitudes
of the body, in ſuch a way as
that whether walking or ftand-
ing ftill; ſpeaking or liftening;
running or wreflling; in the
roftrum or in the paleftra; the
human figure fhould always ap-
pear graceful.
The Greek artifts had the
higheſt advantage in having
thefe living models thus per-
fectly prepared to their hands.
Their painters and ftatuaries had
nothing to do but to copy from
innumerable ſubjects in life the
moſt perfect figures of grace and
expreffion, belonging to all the
nobler and more elevated emo-
tions of the mind, to be daily
feen in their orators.
Their artifts by attending to
the effects produced by the ora-
tors upon different parts of the
auditory, according to their dif-
ferent
I
moft in vogue. This produces
an uniformity, which in any long
work becomes infupportable to
the ear, and of courfe wearies
attention.
We have mufic mafters to
teach the few who have good
voices and talents in that way to
fing, which can be of no benefit
but to thoſe who are to get their
livelihood by it, and is feldom
attained by others in fuch a de-
gree as even to be an ornament.
We have dancing mafters
whofe principal employment it
is to teach one poor unmanly
French dance, in which ſo few
arrive at any degree of excel-
lence, that it is offenfive to fuch
as have any juft ideas of grace,
to look at them when they are
performing it.
Our artifts, if they draw after
life, can exhibit only fuch figures
as are to be ſeen in life. They
muft be contented with drawing
unmeaning or aukward portraits.
Grace and expreffion belonging
to the nobler emotions are to be
found only in the remains of an-
tiquity; thofe that are low and
mean have been admirably done
from life by the inimitable Ho-
garth. A fad fatire on the times!
Our artis, if they look for
any fuch amongst the auditory,
either in the fenate-houſe or
at the bar, may fee abundance
either
售
​1
( 135 )
ferent tempers and difpofitions,
could fee all the different degrees
of expreffion belonging to any
emotion, from its flighteft, to
its moſt forcible expreffion, and
apply it to uſe in their feveral
hiſtory pieces.
Their mufical compoſers had
the ſame advantage in borrowing
from the public fpeakers all the
fineft tones belonging to the
emotions and paffions, which
tranſplanted into their vocal
mufic, and adorned by the fu-
perior charms of the finging
voice, funk deep into the heart,
and produced the most powerful
effects upon the mind.
The Greeks ftudied no lan-
guage but their own; in confe-
quence of which they became
perfect mafters of its grammar,
its profody, and the meaning of
its words; in fhort of every part
of their language, relative either
to found or fenfe.
either of abfent, or merely atten
tive faces; or if they are defir-
ous of drawing a fleeping piece,
they may be furniſhed with good
patterns, from the firit drowſy
nod, to the profound fnore, by
viſiting our churches.
Our mufical compofers, having
no archetypes of this fort, from
which they may borrow the true
tones, of the finer emotions and
paffions; or not knowing how
to adapt thefe to words, ftrive
only to pleaſe the fancy by no-
velty, variety, difficalty of exe-
cution, or noify choruffes, and
their compofitions are chiefly
calculated to gratify the ear.
We employ the beſt part of
our time in the ſtudy of other
languages, to the utter neglect
of our own. In confequence of
which we fcarcely know any
thing of the grammar or profody
of our tongue; and the mean-
ing of our words is very vague
and indeterminate.
If with the like view we turn to the hiſtory of the Romans, we ſhall
find them in the early ages, a rude, fagacious, unlettered race; but
by a judicious adoption of the admirable inftitutious of the Greeks,
aided by the luminous precepts and bright example of that poliſhed
people, we fee them fuddenly emerging from a ſtate of barbariſm,
and at comparatively a fhort interval, attaining to fuch a height
of civilization, that they almoft rivalled their great mafters in
beauty of language and powers of elocution. But this rapid pro-
greſs was not made, by fitting down in their ftudies, and paffing
their time in a blind and uſeleſs admiration of the Greek writings,
and the works of their artiſts; no, it was by doing as the Greeks
did, by taking pains to enrich and polish their own language, by
borrowing freely from the Grecian ftores, and reducing every
thing to rule and order. By inftructing their children, in all the
peculiar
( 136 )
peculiar properties, and niceties of their mother tongue, and in
all the arts of adorning their ſpeech by the graces of delivery.
By a generous emulation in contending for the palm, with their
moſt famous hiftorians, poets, orators, and artifts; not by a fer-
vile imitation of their works, but by making themſelves mafters
of the principles and rules belonging to the feveral fciences and
arts; by laying in a fund of their own, and drawing out of their
own ftores.
in
This compariſon might be extended to a much greater length
many other articles, but enough has been ſaid to ferve as a
clue to the curious reader, if he is inclined to follow the ſubject
farther. And upon fuch an enquiry, how far foever carried, he
will find that the Ancients had no advantage over us in any respect,
but what aroſe from cultivating the language of nature, delivered
by the living voice; inftead of the language of art, offered to the
eye in the dead letter.
The genius, capacity, and manners of a nation, can be efti-
mated by nothing fo well as the ftate of their language. We all
allow that the underſtanding of a people muſt be limited by the
number of ideas; and the number of ideas by the number of words
which are in uſe. Where a language contains but a few words,
the ideas of a people muſt be as few; or at leaſt the power of
communicating thofe ideas muft be limited to the number of their
fymbols.
Upon the fame principle, the powers of fancy, and emotions
of the mind, muſt be circumfcribed by the number of tones,
looks, and geſtures, in general ufe; as furniſhed by nature, or
agreed upon by compact, to be their reprefentatives. As in the
one cafe, where there are but few words in ufe, there will be but
few ideas; fo in the other, where tones, looks and geſtures are
few, there will be as few feelings.
And as the want of regularity and preciſion in the ufe of words,
muft occafion diſorder in the exerciſe of the intellectual faculties;
fo muft the fame caufes produce fimilar effects, in the exertions
of fancy, and emotions of the heart.
If this be the caſe, as it indifputably is, there can be no objec
of ſuch importance to any nation as the improvement, and regula.
tion of their language, fince it is in vain without that to expect
the improvement and regulation of the minds of the natives; as
Language is the great inftrument, by which the human mind is
fhaped, and fitted for all thepurpoſes in life.

ON
( 137 )
ON THE
CULTURE OF LANGUAGE
AND
E LOCUTION.
་
DISCOURSE I.
WHILE the utmoſt efforts of art and induftry are exerted, in
improving every thing for the úfe of man, the most important
article of all is neglected; which is, the improvement of man'
himſelf. For, if men are not prepared by proper culture, to efti-
mate juftly the réal value of things, they will be apt to prize
thoſe things móft, which léaft deferve it; if they are not qualified
to purfue what is confonant to the nobler part of their nature,
they will certainly be attracted by fuch' objects, as folicit the ap-
petites and paffions belonging to the báfer parts. If they are not
rendered capable of relifhing intellec'tual enjoyments, they will of
courſe be abforbed in thofe of the fenfual kind.
The great boundary between the human and brute fpecies,
feems to have been overlooked, or flightly touched upon by phi-
lofophers; for, while fom'e placed it in rationality; fome, in
rifibility; and oth'ers, in the erect pofture of man, and his walk-
ing upon two legs; the great and ob'vious diſtinction feems to
have been forgotten; which is, that all the nobler faculties of man,
require páins and culture to produce and carry them to perfec
tion; while thofe of animals, grow to it of cóurfe, without any
affiftance, in the fame manner as in'trees and plants.
The trúe object of philoſophy ſhould therefore be, to confider,
firft, in what' the perfection of man's nature confifts; and then to
feek out for fuch a mode of education, as is moſt likely to pro-
dúce that perfection.
Man is a com'pound being; he is the link between ſpiritual,
and an'imal exiftence, and partakes of bóth their natures; but he
has alfo fomething peculiar to himſelf. His intellectual faculties,
prove his alliance to a fupérior clafs of beings; his fen'fual appe-
U
tites
( 138 )
*
tites and paffions, fhew his affinity to brútes; but it is in the
powers of the imaginátion, that we are to feek for his own pecu-
liar, or human nature, as diftinguifting him from the brute fpe-
cies, on the on'e hand; and the purely fpir'itual, on the other.
As réafon, prefides over the intellec'tual'; passion, over the fen'-
fitive; fo fan'cy, governs this' part of the human frame. And of
áll the faculties belonging to man, this' feems to be the moſt con'-
ſtant in its operations, and the most exten'five in its influence.
The power of fan'cy over ideas of fenfation and reflection, is un-
bounded. She creates beings of her ow'n; and fo gréat is her
influence, that beings of her creation, often make deeper im-
preffions on the minds of men, than ſuch as have a réal exiſtence.
She excites, modifies, and directs the paffions of man, at her will.
Not only his fpórts and pleaf'ures, but even his more férious pur-
fuits in life, are too frequently under her direction. The hiftory
of every nation in the world, will furnish out innumerable inftances,
of her unbounded influence, over the moſt important concerns of
man, in religion, government, laws, morals, philofophy, and the
And her prefent defpotic power, which the exerciſes over
móſt articles in life, cannot better be deſcribed or explained, than
by the ſingle term, Faſhion. Nor fhall we won'der at the mighty
influence of fancy, when we confider, that this faculty never
céafes to act. When the in'tellect is weary of its labours, and
demands reft'; when the fen'ſual appetites and paffions are ſáted,
and dormant; fancy ftill continues for ev'er on the wing, for ever
unwe'aried in her purfuits. Nay in fleep itfel'f, when every oth´er
faculty is locked up, the affer'ts her empire over the human mind,
and frolics there at large in all the wild luxuriance of dreams. .
arts.
From this view of her power, we may fee, that though fhe
may be an excellent ally' to reafon, yet if ſhe does not acknow'-
lege his fuperiority, and is not content with a ſtate of fubordiná-
tion to his orders, he may either ftrengthen the an'imal part of
man's nature, or fet up an indepen'dent power of her own, fupe-
rior to bóth. Let us confider her in theſe thrée lights. As an
ally' to réafon, fhe partakes of the divíne nature of the foul, and
has the whole ftore of intellectual ideas at command. She takes
her flight with a bold wing through infinity, uncircumfcribed by
fpace or time; Reafon, her chief and guide, all the while áiding
and direc'ting her courfe. In this' employment, fhe adds pleaf'ure
to the operations of the intellect, and adórns ſcience fo as always
to
( 139 )
to make it delightful. Thus fhe produces a fund of pleaſure far
fuperiour to thofe of the fenfual kind, and of courfe obtains an aſ-
cendant over the an'imal faculties, and draws them after her into
a due fubordination to the intellectual. Such' were the effects
produced by the cultivation of the nobler arts, in ancient Greece
and Rome.
As an ally to the passions, I mean of the fenfual kind, fhe is
confined with them to crawl the earth'. In this ab'ject ſtate, ſhe
foon becomes a fláve to the paffions, and her exertions in this' em-
ployment, ferve only to degrade men below beafts. This de-
praved condition of man, has been largely ſet forth, in the hiftory
of the Epicure'an fect, in that of the Sybarites, the Capuans,
and modern Italy; it is to be feared too that examples of this'
fort, are not wanting in our own country.
T
•
When fhe fets up for herfel'f, and acknowleges no fuperiour,
her vigorous and wild fallies through unknow'n regions, without
guide or director, are either váin and frúitleſs, as has been ſeen
in the vast variety of fyftems in fpec'ulative philofophy, which
have been produced in different ages and countries of the world,
by the wild imaginations of men; or elſe they have been produc-
tive of the wor'ft difor'ders in human affairs, when exerted about
the practical duties of life, in religion, politicks, and morals.
Her efforts here ferve only to perver't man from the great en'd of
his being; to rob him of all his an'imal, as well as rat'ional enjoy-
ments, in order to fubftitute her own vifionary ones in their room;
and often to change his nature, and incline him to that, which
we are told belongs to fpirits rep'robate. Such', we know, have
been the effects at all times, of extravagant enthu'ſiaſm and wild
fuperftition.
•
When we look into the hiſtory of the world, we ſhall find that
fancy has been but ſeldom employed in her moſt glórious ſphere,
that of affift'ing human nature in its progress towards perfection;
on the contrary, her chief office has been, to debáſe, or perver't
mankind. The reafon of which is, that this' part of the human
frame, has, in moſt nations of the world, been whólly neglec'ted,
and left to chan'ce. There has been care taken in many, even to
excef's, to improve the intellectual powers; by which, numbers
have ſpent their lives frúitlefsly in abftract fpeculations, and úfe-
lefs, often impen'etrable metaphyfics. Law-givers and magif-
trates have endeavoured to reſtrain the paffions most dangerous
to
( 140 )
to fociety, within prop'er bounds, by pe'nal laws. Moralifts and
philofophers have tried to prevail on men to do their duty, by
fhewing them what it is; while the imagination left to itſelf,
unguided and unrestrained, laughs at their váin attempts, and
fhews itſelf paramount to all the dictates of re'afon, to all laws,
divi'ne and húman...
It is evident that the perfection of man's nature, can be attained
o'nly by a prop'er cultivation of the ſev'eral fac'ulties, belonging
to the feveral par'ts of his com'plicated frame, in a dúe degree of
fubordina'tion. That the intellectual, or rat'ional part, ſhould
hold the first rank in improving and directing the imaginátion;
and that both ſhould unite, in reftraining and guiding the an'imal
part. This can be done only by a right education and there
nev'er has been yet' in any age or country, a national mode of
education eſtabliſhed with that' view. . .
:
To cultivate the nóbler powers of the human mind, fo as to
carry them to perfec'tion, is againſt the very ſpirit of defpot'ic
government; and in republics, the Aristocrat'ic form approaches
too near tyr'anny, and the Dem'ocratic, too near an archy; or
the ftruggles between the two, occafion too much fluctuation, to
admit of any fol'id eſtabliſhment of that fort. It is only in the
well' poized government of Brit'ain, that fuch' a balance might
alſo be kept up in the little ſtate of man'. And upon a compari-
fon of the ſtate of the human mind, with that of the British con-
ftitution, we ſhall find that the on'e, bears a ſtrong reſemblance
to the other. Reaſon may be confidered as veſted with the king'ly
power; the paffions, as the Com'mons, that furniſh the fupplies
to action; and the powers of imagination, as the Lórds, who
ſtand as a barrier between the two oth'er ſtates, to prevent tyr'-
anny, from the too great exertion of authority in the on'e; and
anarchy, from the unruly turbulence in the oth'er.
Now if the minds of the inhabitants of this country, were
formed, by a ſuitable education, correfpon'dent to the nature of
the conftitution, which ought to be the cafe in all wife ftates, it
would produce fubjects, worthy of fo noble a form of government,
and capable of ſupporting it againſt any efforts which might be
made to overthrow it. Nor would there be found fo much dif-
ficulty in accomplishing this point, as may at fir'ft view be ima
gined. It would be brought about by a change in a fin'gle ar-
ticle, wherein we have proceeded very erróneoufly ever fince the
revival
3
( 141 )
revival of letters; and which' change, would be allowed, upon
the flighteft examination, to be much for the better, and likely
to produce the happieſt effects.
•
To fhew this in as fhort and clear a light as poffible, let it be
remembered, that the inftrument ufed to cultivate all the nobler
faculties of man, is lan'guage. Now there are twó forts of lan-
guage in ufe; the on'e, fpóken; the oth'er, writ'ten. The on'e,
manifefted by the living voice; the other, by the déad letter.
The one, Divi'ne, given by God himſel'f; the other húman, the
invention of man'. Hav'e we neglected then the inftrument pro-
vided for us by the Allwife Artificer, who bes't knew what was
fitted to carry his own work to perfection; hav'e we changed it
for one, the invention of fhórt fighted man', and beſtowed all our
pains upon the culture of the lat'ter, wholly neglecting the fo'r-
mer; and ſhall we hope to do it with impunity? No, there is
not an'y deviation from Nature, which is not attended with pro-
portional ill effec'ts; but most of all, in this mo'ſt important at-
ticle, upon which, the ri'ght cultivation of all our nobler faculties,
depend's...
Thought and feeling, make up the whole of man's percep-
tions. Theſe are communicated by two' fpecies of language,
utterly different, and indepen'dent of each other. Words, make
up the language of thought, or ideas; the language of feeling,
or inward emotion, is compoſed of to'nes, loo'ks, and gesture.
It is true they may be uni'ted, and when cultivated togeth'er,
and brought to perfec'tion, they may carry the whole of man's
nature to perfection alfo. But when the language of ideas, or
thought, comes to be fep'arated from the language of feeling, or
emotion; when words alo'ne are attended to, without an'y regard
to their concomitant tones, looks, and geſture; it is only the in-
tellec'tual part that can be improved by it, and that' too, not
ne'arly in an equal degree, as when they are uni'ted; whilft the
more refined powers of the imagina'tion, and the delicate fenfibi-
lities of the hear't, remain dormant, and wild fancy and the paſ-
fions are left to riot at large. Mere words, or the language of
ide'as alone, though delivered with all the clearness of the beft'
underſtanding, never yet had any power over the pas'sions, nor
could excite any fee'ling; whilft tones, looks, and gefture, even
in an irreg'ular ftate, have a very powerful influence over the
human mind. Of this we have daily inftances in the little effects
produced
( 142 )
142)
produced by pulpit-elocution, from very rati'onal difcourfes, de-
livered coldly from notes; and on the other hand, in the extra-
or'dinary impreffions made, by the wild uncultivated oratory of
the Meth'odift preachers. And our theatrical reprefentations fhew
cle'arly, how nec'effary the language of tones, looks, and gefture,
is, to diſplay the workings of the imagination, and all the internal
emotions of the mind; for, were the actors to deliver their parts,
with the fame unanimated, mo'tionleſs declamation, which is ge-
nerally uſed in other places, who could endure to fit out a play?
What' have we then to do, but to defert the wrong' courſe in
which we ſet out, and go back to that, which Na'ture herſelf
has pointed out to us. To bestow our chief pains, upon the cul-
tivation of the living tongue, and to confider the writ'ten lan-
guage, as it ought to be, in a fubordinate light.
To keep a due balance in the conftitution of the human mind,
between the unfeeling def'potifm of the intellect, on the on'e
hand; and the blind impetuos'ity of the pas'sions, on the oth'er;
it is neceffary that the powers of the imagination ſhould be cul'ti-
vated to the utmoſt, and regʻulated by the ni'ceft ar't. This can
be done by no oth'er medium, but that of language; and the
language employed in this work, muſt be that of emotions, not
merely that of ide'as; it muſt be the language of the imagina'tion
and the hear't, united to that of the intellect. It is the imagina'
tion, as was before obſerved, which chiefly diftinguishes man
from all other animated beings; and on that' account, bears the
greatest fway over mankind. It is therefore of the utmoft im-
portance, that it ſhould be under the guidance of the no'bler part
of man's nature, not made fubfervient to the bafer. Since there-
fore the alliance of fancy with reafon, in a due fate of fubordi-
na'tion, is of fuch moment to the welfare of mankind, andis
Lo neceffary to the advancement of human nature towards its fate
of perfection, let us inquire how fuch' a union may belt be accom-
plished. Naturally, none fuch fubfifts; it muſt therefore be a
work of ar't; and if there be an art, to whofe perfection it
ſhould be neceffary that the intellectual powers, in their moſt
improved flate, fhould hold the firft' rank; and thoſe of the
imagina'tion, alſo cultivated to the higheſt, ſhould hold the fec'ond,
and be fubfer'vient to the other, in order to controul and re-
gulate the paffions, we need feek no farther for the perfection
of human na'ture, than in the perfection of that' ar't.
It
( 143 )
It is manifeff that fuch an art, muſt be the most comprehen'five
of all others; it muſt take in the whole com'pafs of man's facul
ties, whether of the in'tellect, the imagina'tion, or the fen'ſes.
And as the operation of theſe can be manifefted only by the means
of natural, or artificial figns; by words, tones, looks, and gef-
ture; it muſt be an art that inftructs mankind in the full im'port,
proper u'fe, and command, of all thofe figns. In fhort, the art
neceffary to carry human nature to perfection, and to diſplay a'll
its faculties in their full fo'rce and lustre, can be no other than
the art of oratory,
I know how ftrangely fuch an affertion muft found, in an age,
wherein this art is unftudied, unpractifed, nay almoſt unknown.
I know with what force of arms all the powers of prejudice will
rife againtt fuch a paradox. I know how much the van'ity of
human nature, which has taught us to confider ourſelves as the
moft illustrious of nations; and the pride of philofophy, which
has fet up an independent throne among ft us, and claims the foʻle
right of empire over the mind, muſt be alarmed at a doctrine
which ftrikes at once at the very foundation of their authority.
But from prejudice, vanity, and pride, let us appeal to the
throne of re'afom, and fee whether this opinion be not founded
in the nature of things, and whether it has not alfo been con-
firmed by experience. To prove that the art of oratory is fuck
a one as I have defcribed, we need only confider wherein the pre-
em'inence of human nature, over the rest of the animal creation,
confifts. Let us follow the ufual diftinction made on this occa-
fion, that of re'afon and fpee'ch; without reference to the imagina-
tion, which yet I have fhewn to be more peculiarly the charac-
teristic of our nature. Under the term reaſon, I here include all
the intellectual faculties; under the term fpeech, all the artificial
and natural figns, whether words, tones, looks, or gefture, by
which the exertions of thofe faculties, are manifefted and com-
municated. The latter part, clearly and unquestionably belongs
to oratory, and is its peculiar province. The former alfo, fo
far as the internal exertions, and progrefs of the intellectual fa-
culties, depend upon the u'fe of thofe figns, so far muſt that' too
rely upon the affillance of that art. And when it is confidered
that without the ufe of thofe figns, the mind could fcarce
make any progrefs in knowlege; and without a ri'ght ufe of
them, mult continually fall into er'rour; it will be found that
the improvement of the intellect itfelf, mult in a great meaſure
depend
(144)
depend upon it. But with regard to the more refined powers of
the fan'cy, and the more delicate affections of the hear't, it is im-
pos'sible without the aid of this art, that they ſhould be manifefted
fo as to produce any gre'at effect.
Having thus fhewn the neceffity of this art to the cultivation of
man's no'bler faculties, let us now fee, whether by the accom-
pliſhment of it, they are not brought forward alfo in their due
ſtate of fubordina'tion. Who' does not fee that the intellectual
powers must hold the firſt rank, and regulate all the reſt, in the
exerciſe of that art? Who' does not ſee that fancy acquires her
greateſt fo'rce and or'nament, when under the direction of the in-
tellect? And who does not fee that the union of theſe two muſt
of courſe give them an empire over the pas'sions, to govern them
at will? The perfection of this art therefore, nec'effarily includes
the perfection of all man's nobler faculties, and is, on that' ac-
count, of all oth'ers, the art moſt worthy of man's attention.
Now let us fee how far this hypothefis has been fupported by
experience. For, if what I have advanced upon this fubject be
well' founded, it will follow that the people of thoſe countries,
where the greateſt pains were taken to cultivate and refine their
fpee'ch, and where the ſtudy and practice of or'atory, were moſt
gen'eral; approached the ne'areft to the perfection of human
nature. But does hiſtory war'rant the truth of this? Let us
try. What' nations were they who applied themfelves to tho'ſe
ftudies, and the practice of that' art? We know but of two',
from the creation of the world to this hour; the Greeks and
Romans. Do not their very na'mes flaſh conviction on us?
Need there mo're be faid to prove the point? Are not theſe the
ver'y nations allowed by the univerſal voice of all mankind, to
have excelled all oth'ers, and to have carried human nature to a
degree of perfection, which none befo're them ever reached, none
fin'ce have arrived at, even with the affiftance of their adʼmirable
pre'cepts, and bright exam'ples; together with many glo'rious
li'ghts and advan'tages which they wan'ted? Were not thefe tlc
o'nly nations that ever were mafters of the oratorial art? Will
not this' fatisfy us. Do we want far'ther proof that it was to
that' art they were indebted for their pre-eminence over the reft
of the world? Let us examine at what period of time it was
the Greeks ſhone forth in all that blaze of glory; we ſhall find
it was, when oratory had reached its meridian. Among what
partic'ular people of Greece, did the gran'd conftella'tion of
human
( 145 )
human excellencies arife, whoſe number and luftre have not been
e'qualled fince fun and moon were made? Among the Athe'nians,
where oratory reached its hi'gheft pitch. When did the æra of
the Ro'man glory cominence? Not till after the art of oratory
had arrived at its fum'mit. In bo'th nations when did this fplen-
dour vaniſh? When the fun' of oratory was fet'.
Is there any doubt yet' remaining? Will' not the reaſon and
nature of things, corroborated by the ſtrongeſt facts, overthrow
prejudice? Shall we not believe in the amazing powers of clo-
quence, the accounts of which are fo ftrongly authen'ticated, un-
leſs ſhe ſhould preſent herſelf to our fenfes, in all the charms
wherewith fhe was on'ce adorned, and through them', fo'rce con-
viction on our minds? It is to be feared a proof of this' kind is
not to be expec'ted by us, in our pres'ent ftate. Much tíme,
much pa'ins did it coft the ancients, before they brought that
art to perfection; much ti'me, much labour muſt it cost the
mod'erns, before they can attempt to rival them in that point.
Yet furely, from circumftances, and the nature of things, we
may form a juft' idea of the charms and powers of oratory, with-
out having them exem'plified to us, in a liv'ing inſtance.
Imagine to yourſelves a Demos'thenes, addreffing the moſt il-
lus'trious affembly in the world, upon a point, whereon the
fa'te of the moft illuftrious of nations, depend'ed. How awful,
fuch' a meeting! How väft, the fubject. Is man', poffeffed of
talents ad'equate to the great occafion? Ad'equate-Yes, fu-
perior By the power of his eloquence, the auguft'nefs of the
affem'bly, is loft', in the dig'nity of the or'ator; and the im-
por'tance of the fub'ject, for a while fufpended, by the admira'-
tion of his talents. With what ſtreng'th of argument, with
what powers
of the fan'cy; with what emo'tions of the hear't,
does he affau'lt and fub'jugate the whole man', and at once cap'-
tivate his re'afon, his imagina'tion, and his pas'sions. To effect
this, must be the ut'moft effort, of the moft impro'ved ftate of
human nature. Not a faculty that he poffeffes, is here unem-
ploy'ed; not a faculty that he poffeffes, but is here exert'ed, to
its hi'gheft pitch. All his internal powers are at work; all his
ex'ternal, teftify the'ir energies. Within', the memory, the
fancy, the judgment, the paffions, are all buf'y; without, every
mufcle, every ner've is exert'ed; not a fe'ature, not a lim'b, but
fpe'aks. The organs of the body, attuned to the exertions of
the mind, through the kin'dred organs of the hearers, inftan-
X
ta'neously,
( 46 )
ta'neoufly, and as it were with an electrical ſpirit, vibrate thofe
energies from foul to foul. Notwithſtanding the diver'fity of
minds in fuch a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they are
melted into one maf's; the whole affembly actuated in on'e and
the fa'me way, become as it were but one man', and have but
ōne voice. The univerfal cry is, Let us march againſt Phil'ip,
let us fight for our lib'erties, let us con'quer, or die'.
;
Here only it is, that the admirable mechanifm of the human
frame, so far as it regards a union with an intellectual mi'nd,
and so far as it is fitted to difplay all the hidden powers of that
mind to view, can' be manifefted. In the'fe exertions, the
divi'ne
part of
of us, becomes as it were an object of the fen'fes; it
is to be fee'n, to be hear'd; it li'ghtned, in the e'ye of a Pericles
it thun'dered, from his voice. If any one doubt of the truth of
what I have here advanced, let him reflect, whether there is any
oth'er fituation in life, any oth'er art or profeffion, in which it
is pos'sible for man, at on'ce to diſplay, a'll the force, of a'll his
faculties, both of body, and mi'nd. If there be not', the point
must be granted. Compare Xer'xes, on his thro'ne; Phil'ip, in
the battle of Chæronéa; Archime'dès, in his closet; or Vir'gil,
in his ftud'y; with Demosthenes, roufing the Greeks to the pre-
ferva'tion of their libertiès-How do the King', the general, the
philofopher, and the po'et, fink' below the or'ator.
What a magnificent idea, and yet how ftrictly juſt', has the
enthuſiaſtic ſpirit of Milton prefented to us, of the power of the
orators of old, in the few following admirable lines; where
fpeaking of thofe of Athens, he fays-
Thofe ancient, whofe refis'tlefs eloquence
Wielded at will' that fier'ce democracy ;
Shook th' ar'fenal, and thun'der'd over Gree'ce
To Macedon, and Artaxer'xes' throne!
Ō thou genius of eloquence! that didft once irradiate thofe thy
two fa'vourite nations, and heam around them a luftre more than
hu'man; whith'er art thou fled? Thou who didft love to dwell
with lib'erty, why haft thou refuſed to visit this land of free'dom?
But thy indignation is juft ly kindled againft us; we have paid thee
no hom'age; whilft all our vows are addreffed to a ufurper, who
was on'ce thy fervile miniſter. It has therefore fared with us',
as with the Ifraelites, when they worſhipped an idol of their own
han'diwork,
( 147 )
han'diwork, and the living God', withdrew his' pref'ence from
them. Britons be wife; appe'aſe the angry Genius; court him
to be propitious to your vows. Dedicate but on'e temple to
him, he will en'ter it; he will kin'dle the facred fire, never more
to be extinguiſhed, and fpread a ne'w glory round the land.
Under his beni'gn influence, the ar'ts will revi've, as of o'ld; re-
ligʻion and mor'als, flou'rish; lib'erty, be fecu'red; and Britain
fhall reign a Quee'n among the nations, 'till time ſhall be no
more.
DISCOURSE
II.
THE motives to induce gen'tlemen, to promote a plan for
cultivating the living language, and the powers of elocution,
have been already fuffic'iently urged in my former difcourfe.
But there is anoth'er part of human fpecies, and furely the moſt
a'miable, that are e'qually concerned in it, I mean the fa'ir fex.
I know not by what ftrange fatality it has happened, that in the
important article of educa'tion, they have fcarcely been confi-
dered. The lordly mafters of the creation have chalked out a
courſe of inftruction for themfel'ves, but the wom'en are left to
make the beſt uſe of their talents that they can', without a'id or
affift'ance. And yet, that they are born with minds ca'pable of
as high improvement as thofe of the oth'er fex, has been amply
proved in the inftances of feveral ladies, who have diſtinguiſhed
themſelves as eminently in the'ir fphere, when they have had
e'qual advantages of culture. Is it wife, is it pol'itic in men to
make no provifion for the improvement of the minds of thofe,
who are to be their ne'arcft and de'areft affociates in life? With
what juſtice can they afterwards complain, when they do not
meet with the delights of a rat'ional fociety with thofe, whofe
minds have never been ſtored with knowl'ege? Or how can they
blame them for paffing their time in tri'fling amuſements, when
they have not been prepared to fill it up in any oth'er way? This
neglect has been owing to cauſes which it would not be difficult
to explain, were it nec'effary at prefent to enter upon the diſcuſ
fion; but I believe all the world are of opinion that it is time
fome rem'edy were applied; and I am much deceived if what I
am about to propofe, will not open a ne'w path of education to
the
( 148 )
the ladies, which will terminate in the completion of all that is
to be wiſh'ed for by them' in that point.
To put this in a clear light; let us only confider, what the
nat'ural confequences would be, of introducing the true art of
reading. Of all arts it would be found the moft bewit'ching,
when people ſhould have made any progrefs in it upon fu're
grounds. In that cafe it would prove the moſt ple'afing exerciſe
when alone, and make every one enter into the fpir'it of an
author with ten times the reliſh; and in com'pany, it would be
confidered as one of the fo'remoft accomplishments, and which
would moſt contribute to the entertainment of the hearers.
How delightfully would the compofit'ions of our poets found
from their ſweet voices; and how irreſiſtible muſt they themſelves
prove, if they approached nearer to the perfection of their
nature, as deſcribed by Milton in his E've, where he ſays→→
fuch prompt eloquence
Flow'd from her lips, in profe, or numerous verſe ;
More tu'neable, than needed lute or harp
To add mo're ſweetneſs.
More tuneable inde'ed than lute or harp would fuch elocution be,
and furniſh an accomplishment far more ple'afing, indepen'dent
of its utility, than an'y of the ſplendid trifles, no'w in faſhion.
The fund of entertainment of this kind would be inexha'uftible,
from the in'finite number of authors, and variety of their com-
pofitions, both in poetry and profe. But above a'll, what a de-
li'ghtful employment would it be to moth'ers, were they but
qual'ified for the task, to inftruct their little prattlers themſelves,
in the rudiments of a pure and correct ſpeech, inſtead of leaving
them to be corrupt'ed by ignorant mercenaries. How muſt their
hearts glo'w within them, upon finding the ſucceſs' that would
attend their labours; when they might hope they were forming
future prop's to our declining church, and future bulwarks to our
tottering ftate. With what cordial delight muft the father of a
family, behold the moth'er of his chil'dren, engaged in fo u'feful
and a'miable a taſk.
It is well known that the fir'ft examples of eloquence, exhibited
at Ro'me, in any degree of perfec'tion, were produced from the
early pains taken with the Gracchi, by their mother Cornelia
a woman born with uncommon talents for elocution, and the
first perfon known in that' ſtate, to have cultivated powers of
this'
( 149 )
this' kind, as far as her o'wn application could go, at a time
when the art was utterly unkno'wn, and the great article of ſpeech
was left wholly to the guidance of chan'ce, as amongst us at this
day. But if the art of ſpeaking were now to be revi'ved; and
if the ladies had the advantage of regular inftruc'tion in it, have
we not reaſon to believe that there might many Britiſh Cornelias
arife, to form orators fupe'rior to the Gracchi; for this we
know was the cafe at Rome, after that art had been intro-
duced.
In this way, ladies! you would be in your prop'er ſphere;
you would be the help'-mates you wer: deſigned to men
Nature
made you of a fof'ter clay, of a more delicate mould than ou'rs.
She has given you ni'cer fenfibilities of hear't, more ex'quifite
perceptions of fan'cy. It is your peculiar province therefore,
to mould the ten'der hear't, and teach the young' ide'a how to
fhoot. Let the part of man' be, to guide the more vig'orous
underſtanding. Man, is formed for public, as well as for private.
life; wom'an, for private life o'nly. Let the experienced father
inftruct the child in what is fit for his public fphere; let the
ſkilful mother train him in what refpects domeft'ic life. The
care of e'ach, is e'qually neceffary to form comple'te men'; and
the mo'ft accomplished men the world has ever feen, we're formed
in this way.
But now let us confider fome confequences ftill mo're import-
ant, that would nec'effarily follow from this. Upon making
fome progrefs in the art of reading, it would be found impoffible
to arrive at perfec'tion in it, without a complete knowlege of the
language both in its grammatical, and rhetorical parts. It
would be found impracticable to deliver intelligibly to oth'ers,
what they did not thoroughly underſtand themfel'ves; to give
grace in utterance to elegance of expreffion, which they did
not perceive; or due force to fentiments which they did not
felel. A thorough knowlege therefore both of gram'mar
and rhetoric, would become abfolutely neceffary to this end.
But as theſe are dry and laborious ftudies, they are not likely to
be voluntarily purfued, without fomething to fwe'eten the toil.
This, I have fhewn, would not be wan'ting to thofe, who ſhould
have made any progrefs in the art of reading. The lights which
the two ftudies would mu'tually throw on each other, would
make the taſk eafy; and the deli'ght propofed by accompliſhing
the en'd, would make them even fon'd of the me'ans. Where
labour
( 150 )
labour is loved, it ceafes to be' labour. Let therefore that on'e
point be eftablished, let there be a method of teaching young
ladies to read well', upon principles of grammar and rhetoric,
they will apply themſelves to ſtudy the beſt writers with a'rdour,
becauſe with delight. In the Englifi language alo'ne, there will be
found a fufficient number of authors, in every fpecies of writing,
to fore their minds with all kinds of knowlege, which can be
either u'feful, or ornament'al; and they will have been prepared.
before-hand, to difpla'y that knowlege, whenever there is oc-
ca'fion for it, in the belt', and cle'arelt light. In this' cafe, the
ladies would have a manifeft fuperiority over the men, in feveral
important articles, whilft the pres'ent mode of education is con-
tinued. They would have no occafion to grudge the men their
extraordinary labour in ſearch of knowlege, through the round-
about, ftee'p, and perplexed paths of Lat'in and Gre'ek; when
they might arrive at the fame end, in half the time, through
the e'afy and pleasant road of their moth'er tong'ue. They
would have no cauſe to envy them their acquifitions in two dead'
languages, which they are never after to have an opportunity of
difplaying, either by fpe'ech, or writing; whilft they ſhall be
miftreffes of the living language, which alo'ne, is employed on
a'll occafions, whether of u'fe, or ornament, either by the
tong'ue, or the pen'. Let the men' boat that they can write
Lat'in correctly; let them fmile, and be content with ſpeaking
and writing English in its purity. Let tho'fe, value them-
felves on their critical ſkill in the works of Homer, Sophocles,
Virgil, and Horace, in the original; let thefe, be content
with reading them in tranfla'tions, nor think they lo fe much by
the difference; but let them plume themſelves on their fuperiority,
if they fhould have a clearer perception, and a ni'cer relish of
the beauties of Milton, Shakefpeare, Pope, and Swift. Let
men', pride themfelves upon their knowlege in logic, metaphy-
fics, mathematics, and other fpeculative fciences; let the elegant
arts, and all that can contribute to the happineſs of fo'cial life,
or the delight of fo'cial converfe, be the fudy and employment
of the fair. Thefe will be the natural confequences of making
the art of reading, and the grammatical ſtudy of Engliſh, the
two fundamental articles in female education. But the good
will not ftop he're; it will prove, in its confequences, equally
beneficial to the men'. For fhould they, from the inveterate
force of cuftom, perfevere in their old track, foon after theſe
ftudies
( 151 )
tudies fhall have been purſued with fuccefs by the la'dies, they
muſt be adopted by the men' alfo, and made part of their courfe.
A young man of one and twenty, after having finifhed his ftudies,
would be aſhamed to be out-done by a girl of fixteen, in pro-
priety and grace of elocution, and in a critical knowlege of our
mother-tongue. This, will excite an emula'tion, which will
tend to the improvement of bo'th parties. A relifh for the fa'me
art, and purſuit of the fa'me ftudies, would neceffarily produce
in the two fexes, fuch a defire of commu'nicating their thoughts,
and difpla'ying their talents to each other, as to introduce that
golden ftate of focial converfe, which is nev'er to be hoped for,
but where the fociety is compoſed of both fexes. The men',
would no longer be devoted to the bot'tle, or gaming; nor
would the la'dies find, fuch fuperlative delight, in a ro'ut, or a
drum'. The fuperior pleaſure arifing from fuch a'miable inter-
courfe, would put an end he're, as it has done in Fran'ce, to all
fep'arate focieties of the fexes. This would be productive of
fuch harmony and good will between them, as to eſtabliſh that
degree of equality, which is abfolutely neceffary to a clo'fe and
in'timate union. Bo'th fexes being on a par, in the moſt material
articles of knowlege, com'mon to both, and in which a degree
of excellence is equally neceffary to' both, would no longer have
any invidious difpute about fuperior'ity. The women, equally
diftinguished in the domes'tic, with the men, in the public.
fphere of life, might claim e'qual merit. Nor would there be
an'y difference, but what naturally refuits, from the fuperior
talents, labour, and difficulty, attendant on the on'e employment,
more than the oth'er; about which', there could be no compe-
tition.
In fhort, it refts upon you' ladies! to bring about this reforma-
tion
; nor can you, in fo' doing, be thought to step out of your
ſphere; as the moſt perfect and critical knowlege of Engliſh,
could never be charged on you as an affecta'tion of learning, or
fe'male pedantry.
And the men will readily allow, that the
tong'ue is the weap'on of the fair; nor can they blame them if
they polish it to the utmoft, and learn the moft perfect ufe and
management of it. When that' is done, let the men take ca're of
themſelves; for fhould they continue to rely upon their o'ld
weapon, the pen', to the neglect of fpe'ech; and on their skill
in
( 152 )
in the dead' languages, without cultivating their own; they
would find themſelves overmat'ched in all topics of converfation,
and vic'tory declare itſelf on the fide of the la'dies.
DISCOURSE III.
IN my two former difcourfes, I endeavoured to fhew the great
importance of cultivating the living language, towards the
general improvement of human nature itſelf, in all its no'bler
faculties and powers; in this', I fhall confider its uſe more par-
ticularly with regard to foci'ety, in the improvement of man'ners
and converfa tion.
It is evident that a general application to boo'k-language,
with a total neglect of the liv'ing tongue, is not the way to im
prove the faculties of fpe'ech. Accordingly we find that in a
country abounding with excellent wri'ters, a good fpe'aker is al-
moft a prodigy. No obfervation is more common, than that
bookiſh men are remarkable for taciturnity. Nor is this filence
to be conſidered as a mark of wis'dom, or the effect of deep
think'ing, as is generally fuppofed, for in fact fuch men find it
difficult, through want of practice, to exprefs their thoughts
with e'afe, and therefore avoid fpeaking as painful. Yet many
of them can write their fentiments readily, becauſe they have
been accus'tomed to writing. While on the other hand, a fu-
perficial man of the world, by being habituated to converfa'tion,
thall always be able to exprefs his thoughts, however inac'curately,
yet with volubility and freedom; though infinitely inferiour to
the ftudious man, both in knowlege of things and words; as
would ev'idently appear fhould they both reduce their thoughts
to writing. Thus the learned, often think', without fpe'aking;
and others, too often fpe'ak, without think ing. They who
have the best materials for converfation, cannot make uſe of
them for want of a free' utterance; and they who have a read'i-
neſs of ſpeech, want the neceffary mate'rials, to make it anfwer
an'y end, either of pleaf'ure, or profit. Does not the neglect
of this ufeful branch of education, tend to make men mi'fers in
knowlege? to brood in fe'cret over their hoard of ideas, and to
engage in ſelfiſh purſuits?
There was fome years fince given to the world an Es'timate of
the manners of the times, which were referred by the author to
the
( 153 )
the principle of effem'inacy. But it might as jus'tly be af
ferted, that the Thames owes its plenty of water, to ſome ſmall
riv'ulet that runs into it, as that the variety of corruptions, and
depraved manners of the age, were owing to a principle, whoſe
operations are confined to fo narrow a fphere. It is furprising
that the reverend author fhould not have recollected the true
fource, pointed out every where throughout the whole Chriftian
difpenfation, of the chief virtues belonging to man, I mcan benev’-
olence; ftyled in the fcripture phrafe, Char'ity; and confe-
quently its oppofite, fel'fiſhneſs, muſt be the fource of our worſt
víces. And fhould a néw eſtimate be made, it would be found
that all the polluted manners of the times, which he has in váin
endeavoured to derive, from his fcanty rill, effem'inacy; naturally
flow from the plen'teous fountain of fel'fifhnefs. The virtues and
vices, in all ages and countries, have had their different degrees
of afcendency, in proportion as the on'e, or the oth'er of theſe
principles had the predom'inance. And indeed as all the principal
virtues and vices, depend upon the proper difcharge of our focial
duties, or the contrary, they can be referred to no other fource.
Now nothing can contribute more to the propagation of fel'fiſh-
nefs in this country, than the afcendency which the writ'ten lan-
guage has obtained amongst us, over that which is ſpoken. In
order to prove this, I muſt beg my hearers to recollect a propo-
fition, fufficiently made out in a former diſcourſe, that the mere
language of ideas, whether written, or fpoken, can, of itſelf,
have no other power but that of conveying knowl'ege, and im-
proving the underſtan'ding; to touch the heárt, and agitate the
fan'cy, it is requifite that the language of emotions ſhould be
joined with it; the language of tones, looks, and gefture.
In all pub'lie communications by the living voice, thrée differ-
ent effects will be produced, according as the fpeaker neglec'ts
to unite theſe two languages; or as he unites them unſkil'fully
and difcor'dantly; or as he blends them in due proportion, fo as
to form harmony.
In the firs´t cafe, no emotion can pos'sibly be communicated by
the ſpeaker. He who has no feelings in himfel'f, nor makes uſe
of any signs of feelings, can never work upon the fenfibility of
oth'ers. He may communicate knowl'ege indeed, of a certain
kind, and to a certain degree, provided his hearers will be at the
pains of commanding their own attention, in ſpite of a dull mo、
not'ony, whofe very náture it is, to dead'en-and dis'sipate attention.
Y
In
( 154 )
In the fecond cafe, where the fpeaker ufes the language of
emotions unfkil'fully and difcor'dantly, he becomes either an object
of ridicule or difgus't, to his intelligent hearers; who ever after
avoid him, or if they dó attend, indulge themſelves in a malig-
nant fatisfaction, by laughing at his abfurdities.
In the las't cafe, rarely, very rarely feen amongst us, where the
fpeaker blends the two languages prop'erly, the fancy, the paffions,
the underſtanding, are all ple'afingly agitated; each individ'ual
receives an additional delight, from the fum communicated to the
whole auditory; refected from e'ye to e'ye, during a charmed at-
ten'tion to the orator; poured out from breast to breas't, when
his filence permits them to give way to the fulneſs of their hearts.
Perhaps there is no oth'er fituation, in which the ſocial diſpoſition
of mankind is fo ex'quifitely gratified. They affemble at fuch
meetings with fatisfac'tion in their looks, from expectation of the
delight which they are to receive; they part with mutual congra-
tulations, on account of mutual benefit and entertainment.
Such'
an intercourſe, frequently repeated, tends to eradicate all ſelfiſh
paffions; and to invig'orate all the finer emotions of benevolence,
and the great duty of Chriftian charity. The jus'tneſs of this
picture, muſt be acknowl'eged by all, who at any time have heard
good' preachers deliver their difcourfes with force and feeling.
Of theſe thrée ways, it is evident, that the firft, is calculated
to render us un'focial; the fecond, dis'social; and the third alóne
can make us, what we were intended to be, fócial beings.
In the last of thefe, through want of inftruction, it is ex-
ceedingly difficult to arrive at any degree of excellence, and
therefore few make the attempt. Vanity, or enthuſiaſm, have
wrought upon ſome to adopt the fec'ond method; on which ac-
count, they are as much defpífed and avoided, by men of fen'ſe
and táfte, as they are followed and admired, by fools and fanat'ics.
Put the bulk of our public ſpeakers, hopeleſs of attaining
the perfection neceflary to the thir'd method, and ftudious to
avoid the ill-confequences of the fec'ond, of courfe fall into the
first; in which, by not pretending to any mer'it, they difarm
cen´fure; and paſs through life contented without họn'our, pro-
vided they efcape difgráce.
Such' being the ftate of public elocution, few people can reap
either prof'it or pleaf'ure from it. Men therefore in general have
recourſe to books, both for inftruction and entertainment. This
fort of entertainment is in its own nature a ſelfiſh one, as the ex-
ercile
( 155 )
ercife is performed alóne, and the reader has no one to partic'ipate
of his fatisfaction. Nor is there a greater enemy to facil'ity of ut-
terance, than a habit of filent reading; or which more difqualifies
perfons from making a figure in converſation.
But it may be faid, that though in the preſent ſtate of public
elocution, the focial feelings are not exerciſed, and that filent
reading contributes to deftroy them for want of communication,
which alone can give them vigour and ſpirit; yet when men come
to mix with the world, both in prívate and public focieties, they
will find that this deficiency is amply made up by converſation;
and that all the focial feelings, all the delicate fenfibilities of our
nature, will be regulated, and duly exercifed, by keeping good
company. Indeed if the uſual topics of converfation are of that
nature, and if the world abounds in perſons who deliver themſelves
upon ſuch topics with feeling and táfte, fuch an effect might rea-
ſonably be expected. But if we examine the general ſtate of con-
verfation amongst us, we ſhall find that it is rather calculated,
like that of public elocution, to render us un'ſocial, or dis'social,
than fócial beings. The bulk of mankind may be divided into
four claffes. The firft, and mot numerous, confifts of the in-
fip'ids; who, having little knowlege, lit'tle feeling, and lefs' power
of communicating them, are fure they can make no figure in con-
verfation; and in order to conceal their deficiency, hide them-
felves in perpetual crowds; run to all public places, routs, af
femblies, opera, playhouſe, &c. Theſe always wear the fáme
countenance, have but on'e ſet of phraſes, which they adapt to áll
topics, and fpeak in the bon ton, that is, without any change of
tone at all. They would not for the world difcover any emotion,
either by look, gefture or voice; and by a conftant habit of fup-
preffing their sígns, they at laft come to fubdue the emotions them-
felves. Even laugh'ter, that happy gift of our Maker, to gladden
the heart of man, is looked upon by fome of thefe to be a breach
of decórum, and therefore they take great pains to fupprefs' it.
Thus having little pretenfions to rationality, the difting'uifhing
property of man, according to fom'e philoſophers; or to rifibil'ity,
according to others; they have no oth'er characteriſtical mark of
human creatures, but that of walking upon two' leg's, with indeed
the additional circumftance of being always well dreſt. Theſe
beings by degrees loſe all feéling, and thus are rendered un´ſocial
by fociety. Numbers of this clafs are to be found among what is
commonly called the bes't company.
The
( 156 )
The fecond claſs, may be called the Difputants; who, having
collected from books a heap of undiges'ted knowlege, and a very
aukward and inaccurate manner of fetting it fo'rth in diſcourſe,
are engaged in en'dlefs controverfies and wrangles, maintained
with great warmth and violence, to the no ſmall roufing and in-
vigorating of all the wor'ft paffions of man, pride, envy, hatred
and malice. And thus are theſe men rendered dis'social by fociety,
and may justly be called bad' company.
The thir'd clafs, conſiſts of the ſmárts and the wit's; who have
only ſuch a ſmat'tering of knowlege, as to look down with con-
tem'pt on the infipids, and to make fpo'rt of the difputants.
Their fávourite enjoyment, is a perpetual rid'icule of all that is
férious and good; they attempt to laugh oth'ers, and really
laugh themſelves, out of all focial feelings; and ſeem to think
xibility the trúe characteristic of man. Theſe are dread'ed and
avoi'ded by the Infipids; called bad' company by the Difputants;
and reckoned mighty good company, by fools and themſelves.
The fourth clafs, is made up of thoſe, who give themſelves up
to fenfuality, voluptuoufnefs, and profligacy of all forts; who
conftantly acting against the principles, upon which the no'bleft
purpoſes of fociety are founded, may july be termed An'ti-
focialifls, and called the wor'it company in the world.
It is much' to be wifhed, that the number of thofe, whofe
converfation can at once enlighten the understand'ing, delight the
fan'cy, and make the heart diſtend with benevolent ſenſations, by
means of a happy union of the two languages of art and nature,
were fo great as to form a fifth' claſs; but rarely are fuch' men
to be found; and móre rarely have they an opportunity of
exerting their talents, in the dis'sonance of mixed company, not
tuned to their pit'ch. Hap'py the man who can find fuch' a one,
to be the choſen companion of his prívate hours; or who can now
and then pick out a felect fet, to partic'ipate of the fatisfaction,
which fuch a one is capable of diffufing, through perfons of nice
fenfibility and juft tafte.
It cannot be denied that the improvement of converſation,
would greatly contribute to improve our man'ners, and make us
take delight in rational fociety. The way to improve our con-
verſation, is, to make that a chi'ef object of attention, in the
education of our youth, of bóth fexes, by inftructing them in all
the points effential to it, inftead of leaving it, as we do now, to
chan'ce. To attend to their fpeech, from their firs't efforts to
articulate,
( 157 )
articulate, to the ut'moft perfection of a refined elocution. To
make them ſtudy the preci'fe méaning of all the words and phraſes.
in their na´tive tongue. By constant practice both in reciting
the beſt works, and their own extemporaneous com'ments upon
them, to give them a facility, and el'egance of expreffion. All
this will be done of coúrfe, if we will only make the living lan-
guage, as it ought to be, our first object of attention; and
confider the writ'ten one, as It ſhould be, only in a fec'ondary
light. The way to do this is obvious. To form writers, you
train them from the bginning, in the art and practice of writing;
to form ſpeakers, you muſt train them from the beginning, in the
art and practice of fpeaking. This would be the moſt effec'tual
way, to check the progrefs of that fordid principle, fel'fifhnefs,
the nouriſher of every vi'ce; and to give vigour to that nóble one,
benev'olence, the fource of every virtue,
DISCOURSE IV.
IN my three former difcourfes, I endeavoured to point out the
advantages which would refult from the revival of the art of ora-
tory, with relation to three different articles. The firs't, with
regard to the improvement of human nature itſelf, in cultivating
and diſplaying all the no'bler faculties of man. The fec´ond, with
reſpect to the benefits which would refult from it to the female
part of our ſpecies. And the las't, with regard to the general
improvement of converfa'tion, man'ners, and poli'tenefs. I fhall
no'w, take up the fubject in a higher tone, and endeavour to fhew
the abfolute neceffity there is, for the revival of that art, to pre-
ferve the boaſted conftitution of Great Britain from inevitable
deſtruction, by reftoring to its due vigour the almoft wo'rn out
principle, by which alone it can be maintained for any length of
time; I mean religion. But as that' is an article, which our
ſhort-fighted politicians have not, for many years, ſeemed to con-
fider as at all effen'tial to the fta'te, an opinion which has been
too fa'tally propagated through the land, I fhall endeavour in the
first place to prove, that however religion may be confidered, in
all other fpecies of government, as only contributing to the well-
being of the ftate, yet in that of Great Britain alo'ne, it is effen-
tial
( 158 )
tial to its very exis'tence for any length of time. And afterwards
I fhall fhew how it may be refto'red to its due health and vigour,
from the prefent deplorable ftate of weakneſs, to which it has
been reduced among us.
Every kind of government hath its na'ture, its end', and its
prin'ciple. Its nature, is its particular conftitution or conftruction
to answer fome en'd; its end, is that which is fought after by
fuch' conftitution; and its principle, confifts in the méans uſed to
com'pafs that end. From this view, it is evident that the prin-
ciple is the moſt effen'tial part; is the fo'ul of government, which
The beft'
puts it into mo'tion, which gives it life and action.
conftitution in the world, and framed to the beft' end, without a
prin'ciple, is nothing but a name; and without a right one,
muft neceffarily be deftro'yed; for, if the principle be wrong', a
different end will be purfued, from that' which was the object of
its inftitution. It follows alfo, that the principle ſhould be fu'ited
to the end, not only in its na'ture, but in its degree of power and
ftrength; for fo far as it falls fhor't of the end, fo far is the go-
vernment weak and defective.
The natural order of inquiry therefore will be, whether we,
hav'e a principle; whether the principle be fu'ited to the nature
of our government; and whether it be of fo'rce enough to anſwer
the end.
All the different forms of government known in the world, may
be reduced to three' fpecies; the republican, monarchical, and
defpot'ic. To thefe, the celebrated Montefquieu has annexed
three different principles. To the republican, virtue; to the
mona'rchical, hon'our; and to the delpotic, féar. In the firft',
and laft' of thefe, he has incontes'tibly proved, that neither fpecies
of government could possibly fubfift, but muſt change to fome
oth'er form, upon any oth'er principles than thefe. But in what
relates to the monarchical, he has not fhewn that clearness and
As he
preciſion, which are manifeſted in the rest of his work.
feems to have formed his idea of monarchy, entirely from that'
under which he was bo'rn, fo he has laid down rules in gen'eral
for it, from the partic'ular practice of that ftate. He hath ac-
curately diftinguifhed between the two republican forms, the
Ariftocratic and Democrat'ic, and he has fhewn the different
man'ner, in which the principle of virtue is to operate in thoſe
different fo'rms; nor was there lefs' reaſon to diſtinguiſh between
the different forms of mon'archy; the lefs' limited, approaching
to
( 159 )
to the defpot'ic; and the mo're limited, bordering upon the re-
publican. It will not require much penetration to diſcover, that
fuch a monarchy as that of England, can'not fubfis't upon his
principle of honour. To convince an Engliſhman of this, there
needs only to prefent him with part of the defcription which he
himſelf gives of that principle. By the laws of honour, he fays,
that the actions of men are not judged as good', but as ſhi'ning ;
not' as juft', but as great; not as re'afonable, but extraor'di-
nary. To this whimfical honour it is owing, that the virtues
are only juſt' what it ple'afes; it adds rules of its o'wn invention,
to every thing preſcribed to us; it exten'ds, or lim'its our
duties, according to its own fan'cy, whether they proceed from
religion, politics, or morality. There is nothing fo ftrongly
• inculcated in monarchies, by the laws, by religion, and hon´our,
as fubmission to the prince's will'.'
C
What' are the neceffary confequences of fuch a principle?
Montefquieu himſelf has deſcribed them in gla'ring colours, in
another place.
Ambition, joined to i'dlenefs, and ba'fenefs, to pri'de a de-
• fire of obtaining rich'es without labour; and an aver'fion to
tru'th; flattery, treafon, perfidy, violation of engagements,
contempt of civil duties, fear of the prince's vir'tue, ho'pe from
his weaknefs; and above all, a perpet'ual rid'icule caft upon
• virtue.'
Whether this baueful principle, fo incompatible with the
British conftitution, has not, amongst other weeds, been tranf-
planted into our foil, from a neighbouring country, each man's
own obfervation will beft inform him.
As the profeffed intention of Montefquieu was, to treat accu-
rately of all the various governments known in the world, and
their ſeveral principles; it is evident that he has been defec´tive
in the execution of on'e part of his defign. For though from his
o'wn deſcription, he found that our form of government, would
not come exactly under an'y of the heads, into which he had dif-
tinguished them; though he has allotted a fep'arate chapter, to
treat of our conſtitution as a diftin'& fpecies from any other; yet
he has not thought proper to ſay one fyllable about the prin'ciple
by which it may be preſerv'ed, but has contented himſelf with
foretelling the means by which it will probably be destroy'ed.
Let us try therefore whether this deficiency cannot be fuppli'ed,
and whether we may not be able to difcover the o'nly principle,
by
( 160 )
by which it is pos'sible that our noble conftitution can be fup-
po'rted and prefer'ved.
As our conſtitution is made up of a due mixture of the three
fpecies of government, being partly monarchical, partly republi-
can, and partly abfolute; it follows that no one particular prin-
ciple, belonging to an'y of thofe, will be fufficient to anſwer its
end, though all thrée may be employed in it to advantage. The
bulk of the people fhould be bred up to fear the laws, which
fhould be confidered as vefted with defpotic power. The legif-
lative or republican part, fhould have vir'tue for its object. And
the principle of honour, may be employed by the executive, or
roy´al authority, with fuccefs. By honour, I do not here mean
that bas tard kind before deſcribed, but that gen´uine reĥ'ned fort
arifing from a love of fa'me, and the rewa'rds attending it; which
often fupplied the place of virtue in republics.
From this view, we may fee the neceffity there is for fome
oth'er principle, to reg'ulate theſe. For when thre'e different
principles, act in on'e ftate, without any fubordina'tion, or ne-
ceffary depen'dance of the one on the other, it would be found
impoffible to confi'ne each, within its due bounds, ſo that no
on'e fhould become predom'inant; and as fuch predominance of
any on'e of theſe, over the oth'ers, muft neceffarily bring about
a chang'e in the conſtitution, the thing to be wiſhed is, that a
principle of fupe'rior force, to an'y, or-áll of theſe together,
fhould be eſtabliſhed; whofe office it fhould be to prefer've the
bal'ance between the oth'ers, to reftra'in them within their du'e
limits, and confi'ne them to their prop'er ob'jects. Nor have we
far' to ſeek for ſuch a principle; it can' be no other than that of
religion.
«
To the great power and energy of this principle, Montefquieu
himſelf has borne teftimony; for though he never mentioned it
as a neceffary one to any of the forms of government which he
treats of, yet he occaſionally fays, in a part of his work not pro-
fes'sedly upon that point, that the principles of Chriftian'ity,
deeply engraved on the hea'rt, would be infinitely more po'wer-
ful, than the fálfe honour of monarchies; than the huma'ne
virtues of republics; or the fer'vile féar of defpotic ftates.'
Now as he had allowed in his examination of the British confti-
tution, that it was the no'bleit, and moſt perfect form of govern-
nent upon earth, fo muft it álfo be allowed, that it ought to
have
( 161 )
have the nobleſt and moſt perfect prin'ciple to fupport it; which,
by his own confeffion, is that of tru'e Chriftian'ity.
Nothing is more ftrictly demonftrable, than that nó fpecies of
government can long' fubfift, without on'e of thefe four principles.
With regard to vir'tue or public fpirit, it is fo far from operat
ing as a general principle, that it hardly exift's amongſt us, ex-
cept in idéa; and the very notion of reducing it to practice, is
become a ſubject of ridicule. With respect to honour, it is to
be feared that little of the gen'uine kind remains amongst us, and
that we abound too much in that fálfe fpecies, which, among
many other bad qualities, we have imported from our neighbours.
And with regard to fear, or reverence for the laws, the open
violation, and bold defiance of them, in fuch multitudes of áll
ranks and orders, plainly fhew that they have loft much' of their
force. If we ſhould be without religion too, we fhould then be
a ſtate without an'y principle, and confequently ready for any
change, that chance, defign, or force may bring about.
6
The famous Biſhop of Cloyne has drawn but too juſt a picture
of the deprav'ity of the times, and the caufe of it, in a diſcourſe
addreffed to magiftrates, where he fays, The pretenfions and
• difcourfes of men, throughout theſe kingdoms, would, at firſt
view, lead one to think that the inhabitants are all politic'ians;
and yet perhaps, political wiſdom hath in no age or country,
• been more tálked of, or lefs' underſtood'. Lícence, is taken
•for the en'd of government, and pop'ular húmour, for its origin.
• No rev'erence for the laws, no attach'ment to the conftitútion;
• lit'tle attention to matters of con'fequence, and gre'at altercations
• about trífles; fuch ídle projects about religion and government,
as if the public had both to chooſe; a general contempt of áll
authority, divíne and húman; an indifference about the pre-
váiling opinions, whether they tend to produce órder or dis'.
order, to promote the empire of God', or the dev'il; the'ſe are
the ſymptoms that ftrongly mark the present age; and this
• could never have been the caſe, if a neglec't of religʻion had
not made way for it.'
(
If all this be true, as it undoubtedly is, there cannot be a ſub-
ject of more importance, than to trace the caúfe of this general
decay of religion amongſt us; and to point out the means of re-
flóring the fóle principle, by which our conftitution can' be up-
held, to its pris'tine vigour.
Z
Amid
( 162 )
Amid the many inquiries made into the caúfes of the decay of
religion, and confequential advances of infidel'ity for many years
paſt, it appears to me that the chie'f fource of both, has eſcaped
óbfervation; which is, a material defec't in the education of thoſe
deftined for holy orders; I mean a neglect of cultivating the
powers of or'atory. In what I have to offer on this ſubject, I
would not be understood to throw the le'aft reflection upon the
clergy; an order of men for whom I have the higheſt reſpect; on
the contrary, I mean in the cloſe of this diſcourſe, to ftand forth
their cham'pion, and refeue them from that load of blame, which
has been conftantly, with equal ignorance and injuf'tice, thrown
upon them, för an article in which they are nó way in faúlt; I
mean the want of the powers of elocution. And yet that the de-
cay' of religion, has been chiefly owing to the wan't of thoſe
powers in the priesthood, occafioned by a neglec't of cultivating
them in our courſe of education, is what I fhall endeavour to
prove in the remaining part of this diſcourſe.
T.
There are two ways, by which the purity of religion and its
precepts, may be defended; by fpe'aking, and by writing.
Speech, is the immediate gift of God, who has annexed to it,
when cultivated by man, and brought to perfection, powers al-
moſt mirac'ulous, and an energy nearly divíne. He has given to
it, tónes, to charm the e'ar, and penetrate the heart; he has
joined to it, ac'tion and look's, to move the in'moft foul. By
that, attention is kept up without páin, and conviction carried
to the mind with delight. Perfuáfion, is ever its atten'dant, and
the paffions, own it for a maf'ter. Gre'at as is the fórce of its
powers, fo unbounded is their exten't. All mankind are capable
of its impreffions; the ignorant, as well as the wife, the illit'erate,
as well as the learned.
♥
Writing, is the invention of man'; a mere work of árt, and
therefore can contain no nat'ural power. Its ufe is, to give ſta
bility to found, and permanence to thought. To prefer've words,
that otherwife might per'iſh as they are ſpoke, and to arrest ideas,
that might vanʼiſh as they rife in the mind. To affift the mem´ory,
in treaf'uring thefe up; and to convey knowlege at diftance,
through the eye, where it could find no entrance by the e'ar.
The vaſt fuperior'ity of the fórmer over the latter, is obvious
enough from this view. There is not an'y power belonging to
the latter, which the fórmer, wherever its influence can be ex-
erted, does not poffefs in a more em'inent degree. Whereas
there
( 163 )
there are man'y powers belonging to the former, in which the
lat'ter has no fhare. That' works by the whole force of artific'ial,
as well as natural means; this', by artific'ial means only.
None
but the learned, can receive benefit from the on'e; all mankind,
from the oth'er. The one indeed fhould be confidered only as
the han'dmaid of the other, and employed chiefly in fuch' offices,
as ſhe can'not do in her own perſon.
Should therefore our clergy defert the ftrong nat'ural means,
given by God' himfel'f, to fupport religion and morality; fhould
they have recourfe to the weak, the artific'ial, the mere invention
of man'; is it ftrange that their holy caufe fhould fuf'fer. In at-
tempting to fupport it chiefly by polem'ical writings, have they
not quitted their prop'er arms, and faftneffes, to engage the enemy
at their own weap'ons, and upon their own ground. By the
on'e, they might command the paffions of mankind, and gain
them entirely to their fide; in the oth'er, the paffions, prejudices,
and temporal interefts of men, were too much againf't them, to
expect they ſhould be impártial judges, of what was coolly of-
fered to their underſtanding. In the former, the clergy had the
field entirely to them felv'es; nó antagonist could rife up after
them, to eráfe whatever impreffions their oratory had made. In
the latter, they had as many ad'verfaries, as ple'afed to take the
field; fkilled in all the weapons of log'ic, and armed with the
full force of ridicule; which was but toó likely to make frong'
impreffions upon minds, that were prepoffeffed againf't them and
their doctrines. How was it poffible therefore that they ſhould
not lófe their cauſe, when brought before prej'udiced judges; or
how could they expect that trúth fhould prevail, when rid'icule,
not re'afon, was fet up to be its teft'.
By this method, our divines have not only changed their ce-
lef'tial armour, made by God himſelf, for fuch as was the work-
manship of imperfect man; their weapons tempered in pure
æethe'rial fire, for thoſe of brittle tee'l; they have alfo fwer' ved
from the exam'ple, and defer'ted the meth'od pointed out by their
divine founder. It was by pre'aching, not writing, that our
bleſſed Saviour propagated his doctrines. His example was fol-
lowed by the Apoftles, who committed nothing to writing, but
plain matter of fact, and unadorned precepts. It was the gift
of the tongue, not the pen', which was miraculouſly beſtowed
on the Apoftles; and it is to be fuppofed when they addreffed the
different nations, in their different languages, that they did it
with
r
(164)
with fo'rce and energy. In what' fort of founds, with what' kind
of geſture, muft St. Paúl have ſpoken, when Félix trembled ?
With what power of or'atory, muſt he have addreffed the Athe'-
nians, when that pol'iſhed people, looked upon him with ſuch
admira'tion? And what' muft have been the force of his el'o-
quence, when the men of Lyftra called him Mercury, and would
have paid him divine honours?
The ftud'y, or neglec't of this art, cannot poffibly be a matter
of indifference to us. It must be productive of the beft, or be
attended with the worft confequences. It muft either effectually
fuppo'rt religion, againſt all oppofition, or be the principal
means of its deftruction. The Church-fervice, according as it
is either well or il'l adminiſtered, muſt excite great emo'tions, or
fet people to fleep; it muſt give delight, or occafion diſguf't;
it muft carry conviction of truth with it, or appear fictitious.
And indeed nothing can contribute more ſtrongly to make the
lat ter opinion prevail, than hearing its doctrines delivered in
tones and accents quite foreign from na'ture and trúth. In
this', as in life, the general maxim will hold good, that before
you can perfua'de a man into any opinion, he muſt firf't be con-
vinced, that you believe it yourfel'f. This he can never be,
unleſs the tones of voice, in which you ſpeak, come from the
hea'rt, accompanied by correſponding look's and geſtures, which
nat'urally refult from a man who ſpeaks in ear'neft. On this ac-
count, whenever we fee thofe ftrong ftam'ps of truth, made in
nature's mint', the coin paffes cur'rent, and the words are taken
for fterling; where they are not very ob'vious, we fufpect cou'n-
terfeits; and where they are ab'fent, we ſuppoſe the metal is
ba'fe.
If this be fo, what muft neceffarily be the confequence of the
man'ner in which our Church-fervice is too' fre'quently performed.
Muft not truth itſel'f paſs for falfehood, when covered all over
with her ve'il. If none of the nat'ural criterions, by which fhe
is diftinguiſhed, appe'ar, muft not all paſs for fictitious. How
can a clergyman hope to gain belief to what he utters, when he
utters it not in fuch a manner, as if he believed it himself.
This therefore may be confidered as the gre'at fource of irreligion;
nor would it be a very con'fident affertion to fay, that this de-
fec't in the miniſtry, has made mo're in'fidels, than all the arts
and fubtleties of the enemies to religion, put together.
For
( 165 )
For as it muſt be allowed, that the divine fervice, is too often
performed in a flov'enly and difagre'eable, or elfe in a cold and
unaffec'ting manner; it follows that many of nicer taſte are kept
awa'y from places of religious worſhip, through difguft; and they
who continue to frequen't them, may eafily be made the wor'ſe
by it, but can hardly receive much ben'efit. Their devotion can-
not be ra'ifed, however it may flag', by hearing prayers ill' read ;
nor will the doctrines from the pulpit, acquire ne'w force or
credit, by being delivered in a li'felefs manner, and in unnatural
tones. The experience of mankind may be appealed to upon this
occafion, whether it is not generally confeffed in words, as well
as fhewn in practice, that they perform this ceremony more out
of de'cency and exam'ple, than from any affiftance they find
there to devo'tion, or any ben'efit from the fer'mon; and indeed
were they not' to confefs it, the general col'dnefs and inattention,
the lev'ity in the behaviour of ſome, and drowſineſs even to pro-
found flee'p in others, nec'effarily infufed by the opiate of a dull'
monot'ony, would too plainly evince the truth of the obſervation.
<
It is chiefly owing to this defect in the miniftry, that the
facred order has not been able to maintain that fupe'rior rank and
influence in the world, to which in its o'wn nature it is entitled.
That it has in itſelf a pre-eminence over all oth'ers, may be ſeen
in the beautiful account given of the inftitution by the Guardian.
If, fays he, to info'rm the understanding, and reg'ulate the will',
is the moſt laf'ting and diffúfive benefit, there will not be found
• fo úfeful and ex'cellent an inftitution, as that of the Chriſtian
priesthood, which is no'w become the fco'rn of foo'ls. That a
numerous order of men fhould be confecrated to the fludy of
• the moſt fubli´me and benefic'ial truths, with a defign to prop'-
6 agate them by their diſcourſes and writings; to inform their
• fellow-creatures of the be'ing and at'tributes of the De'ity; to
poffefs their minds with the fenfe of a future fta'te; and not
only to explain the na'ture of every virtue and moral duty, but
likewiſe to perſuade mankind to the practice of them, by the
moft powerful and engaging motives; is a thing fo excellent,
and neceffary to the well-being of the world, that no body but
a modern free-thinker could have the for'chead, or folly, to
turn it into ridicule.'
<
€
But neither the fcorn of fools, nor the ridicule of free-thinkers,
could in the l'aft affect, or depre'ciate an inflitution fo ex'cellent
in its nature, fo neceffary to the welfare of mankind, if the
miniftry
( 166 )
miniftry were really equal to the diſcharge of their office, in the
moft effen'tial point. Their chi'ef end is, to inform the under-
ftan'ding, and reg'ulate the will' of others. The firſt, cannot be
done, unleſs their ow'n ideas are conveyed into the minds of
oth'ers, with perfpicuity and fo'rce; nor the laft, unleſs the pas'-
sions of men are wrought upon, to exci'te them to good' works,
and deter' them from fuch as are evil; inafmuch as the paffions
are known to be the great movers to', or reftrainers from' action;
neither of which can' be done without fkill in oratory. All other
requifites to the priesthood, though poffeffed in the moſt em inent
degree, without that', will never anſwer its en'd. This is the
preacher's in'ftrument with which he is to work; and witho'ut
this, his knowlege and piety are of little more úſe to the world,
than the ſkill of a pa'inter would be, without pen'cil or col'ours;
or that of a mufic'ian, without the power of convey'ing founds.
Poffes'sed of this, no artiſt whatever is mo're equal to the com-
pletion of his defigns; for though the difficulty of arriving at
the en'd, be fuitable to its utility and gran'deur, and confequently
beyond that of all others, yet the me'ans are proportioned and
ad'equate to the mighty work. For who' upon earth can be com-
pared in faculties and powers to the man', in whom are united the
trúe philosopher, the Chris'tian he'ro, and the potent or'ator?
Or how could fuch' precepts fail of having their defired effect,
which are founded on re'afon, fupported by revela'tion, confirmed
by the living example of the preacher, and impreffed on the
yielding mind by the irrefis'tible charms of eloquence ?
Mr. Addifon, in fpeaking upon this fubject, has the following
paffage ; "The light in which thefe points ſhould be expoſed to
the view of one who is prejudiced against the names, religion,
church, prieſt, and the like, is to confider the cler'gy, as fo many
philosophers, the churc'hes, as ſchools, and their fer'mons, as
lec'tures, for the information and improvement of the audience.
How would the heart of Socrates or Tully have rejoi'ced,
had they lived in a nation, where the law had made provifion
for philofophers, to read lectures of morality and theology every
feventh day, in feveral thouſands of ſchools erected at the pub'-
lic charge throughout the whole country; at which' lectures,
all ranks and fexes, without diftinétion, were obliged to be
pres'ent, for their gen'eral improvement? And what wicked
' wretches would they think thoſe men, who ſhould endeavour
to defe'at the purpofe of fo divi'ne an inftitution ?
What
( 167 )
·
What Mr. Addiſon has here advanced, would have had much
mo're fo'rce, had he ſubſtituted the word or'ators, in the room of
philosophers; and this would probably have been the cafe, could
his affertion have been warranted by practice. By orators, I mean
fuch as they were of o'ld, when none were thought wor'thy of
that title, but fuch as were at the fame time philosophers. The
feparation of philofophy from oratory, was the mai'n caufe that
bo'th were in a ſhort time deſtroy'ed. Of this rupture Cicero
gives the following account. "The ancients, down to the time
of Socrates, always joined a perfect knowlege of morality, of
'all that belonged to the conduct of private life, as well as the
management of pub'lic affairs, to ſkill in oratory. But at that
time, the eloquent and the learned, being divided into different
fects by Socrates, and this diftinction being afterwards kept up
by all his diſciples, the philofophers and orators held each other
in mu'tual contemp't.' Nothing contributed fo much to wi'den
this breach, as the want of fome profes'sion among the ancients,
to which a u'nion of theſe was nec'effary. But if we look into
the prefent times, we fhall quickly fee that the cafe is different.
The profeffion amongſt us', which is fo'remoſt in point of rank,
utility, and number, evidently requi'res it. It would be hard to
fay, whether philofophy or oratory be mo'ft neceffary to our prieſt-
hood, as the on'e, would be u'felefs, without the oth'er. With-
out knowl'ege, eloquence would be but an emp'ty found; without
el'oquence, knowlege can never be fhewn in its true li'ght. The
long difpute between the two, was well' determined by Cicero,
in the following manner. • When there is occafion, as it often hap-
" pens, to ſpeak concerning the immortal Gods', to treat of piety, of
• concord, of friendſhip, of the common rights of citizens, of men,
• and nations; of equity, temperance, magnanimity, and every kind
of virtue; I ſuppoſe all the academies and ſchoo'ls of philosophy
'will cry out, that all ſubjects of this' kind are thei'r property, and
⚫ do not at a'll belong to the or'ator; to whom when I allow that
they ſhall have the liberty of haran'guing upon theſe points in
every corner, to employ their i'dle time, yet I fhall make no
fcruple to determine, that it is peculiarly the or'ator's province,
to explain thefe fubjects with dig'nity, and pleas'ure to his
he'arers; concerning which thefe men hold fo'rmal diſputations,
' in a le'an and lífelefs difcourfe.' Can there be a more accurate
defcription of the prop'er diſcharge of the function of the Chriſtian
priesthood? To this order of men therefore, a re'-union of theſe
arts
{
( 168 )
•
6
arts is not only nec'effary, but there are the ftrong'eft mótives to
encourage the attemp't. All the means requifite to carry oratory
to its hígheft pitch, are furniſhed to them in a more lib'eral man-
ner, than they ev'er were to any oth'er profeffion. Quinctilian,
in ſpeaking of the means by which oratory might reach the fum-
mit of perfection, has a remarkable paffage, which feems ex-
actly applicable to the Chriftian priesthood; where he wiſhes,
that oratory might regain its pris'tine dignity and power, by
being restored to its poffes'sions in philosophy; and that this
• fhould be effected by the eſtabliſhment of ſome ſupe'riour order,
with whom oratory, being mo'ft neceffary, fhould hold the firs't
rank, and philofophy be confidered only as her hand´maid.
That by the authority of this order their ſeveral cla'ims ſhould
be adjusted, and the o'dious diftinction of na'mes be deſtroyed.
That neither fhould any longer pretend to fovereign author'ity,
but both in due fubordination ferve one com'mon mas'ter.'
How would it have rejoiced the heart of Quinctilian, could he
have ſeen his wiſh accomplished in the eſtabliſhment of an order
of men to whom a perfect knowlege of all things divine and húman
was neceſſary, to Shine forth not only in their word's, but in their
• lives; an order, fuch as no antiq'uity ever bebel'd; which uniting
in itself the full powers of oratory and philofophy, in their largest
• extent', ſhould enable men to communicate the most perfect knowlege,
in the most perfect man'ner.' With what rapture muſt he have
beheld oratory raiſed to a higher office, and a more exalted rank,
than ever it could even cla'im before; no longer miniftring to the
purpoſes of mere mo'rtal aud earth'ly maſters, but immediately
employed in the fervice of the Mo'it High, of God' himſelf.
Whilst philoſophy, humbled from her proud pretenfions, fhould
be content to min'ifter to her former rival. Such an office for
oratory could never have entered into the tho'ughts of a He'athen,
as the grofs abfurdities of their religion, and ridic'ulous ideas
of their god's, required the obfcu'rity of myſtery, and dark
veil of fuperftition, but would by no means bear the light; ora-
tory therefore, whofe office it is to throw a ftrong' light upon
all which it handles, muft nec'effarily be ban'ifhed from its
miniftry. How would the auguſt union of eloquence and philo-
fophy with the facred office, have ftruck the ancients with
admiration and afton'ifhment; and confidering the great-
nefs of their powers when feparate, what glorious effects
would they not expect, from the joint endeavours of religion,
oratory,
}
+
( 169 )
C
oratory, and philofophy, all mu'tually fupporting and affisting
each other, in bringing about the no'bleft end's, the general good
of foci'ety, and happinefs of each individ'ual. How much higher
muft their expectations be raiſed, when they should confider the
pu'rity of our religion, the unearthly and exalted notions which
we entertain of the Deity, and the fal'ntary fyftem of laws for
his conduct in life, promulgated to man', by his great Author
and Creator. Would not Socrates himself, think philofophy
ra'ifed and dignified, beyond his ut molt conception, when
nin'iflring to oratory in fuch glo'rious purpofes. Would they
not all join with one voice to felicitate fuch a people, and faý
O happy nation, to whom the nobleſt and moſt important
truths, which were da'rkly feen, and as through a mist, by
only a few', and thofe the wife of the heathen world, are re-
• vealed in full meridian light, and like the fun' viſible to a'll
eyes; like that luminary communicating light and he'at to
all, to the low, as well as the high; to the weak in under-
ftanding, as well as to thofe of the most improved talents.
And you, ye holy men, highly favoured of Heaven above all
oth'ers, in whoſe divine inflituion are united all the gre'ateft
powers which God has given to man, let us with love and ad-
miration contemplate the beat'ty of your facred function, and
with wonder and delight examine its fupen'dous fra'me.
Happy men, whofe order mult command refpec't and rev'e-
rence to your perfons; whoſe talents must conciliate to you
the efte'em and love of mankind. Employed from your ear-
lieft days in treafuring up knowlege and wifdom, not to lie
• conce'aled, like the mifer's ho'ard, but to be difplayed to the
ey'es of men, enrich'ing the beholders, without impoverishing
yourſelves, and by the very act of communication, incréafing
not diminiſhing your ftore. Thrice happy orators, who enjoy
all the deli'ght, the prai'fe, the perfection of your art, with-
out the difficulties, the la'bours, the dangers that attended it
of old. You need no pains to procure fiience, no arts to en-
gage atten'tion; the fanctity of the temple enfures the on'e
the impor'tuce and interefting nature of the ſubject to äll
'hearers, commands the oth'er.
Secure in your celeflial armour,
6
C
'
6
•
ધ
though you attack the wic'ked with force and might, you need
• fear no' enemies; and the Philips and Anthonies of the world,
may be laſhed by you without da'nger. E'qual to us in all the
arts of captivating the fen'fes, how much more lo'rdly is your
A a
fway
( 170 )
C
<
fway over the imagina'tion, and the pas'sions. What vig'orous
flights may you not lead fan'cy, when freed from the fetters
of mat'ter, through fpir'itual regions, and a boúndleſs eternity,
'till this' world, fhall appear but as a fpec'k, and its durátion,
but as a point of time. How infinitely more powerful muſt the
• exertions of hope and fe'ar be, in proportion to the immen'fity
of their object. What' were the conquefts of Al'exander or
• Cæsar, compared to yours? The'irs, were over men', over
their breth'ren; you'rs, are over the en'emies to human na'ture,
over fin', and over death'!'
But ſhould thefe fages of antiquity be told that things were
quite oth'erwife; that vice and libertinifm were never known to
have arrived at a greater pit'ch, in an'y age or country; that
virtue was neglec'ted, or ridiculed; and religion, fa'r from an-
fwering its en'd, was, together with the priesthood, held in con-
tem'pt; muft they not either conclude, that the pe'ople, were
the moft ftupid and ha'rdened in the world; or that the'y who
were dedicated to the fer'vice of the church, were not prop'erly
qualified to diſcharge their office. When they fhould be told
that no order ever produced fuch numbers of men diſtinguiſhed
for knowlege and wis'dom; remarkable for purity of morals,
and fanc'tity of life; that their difcourfes in the caufe of religion
and vir'tue, were ſome of the no´bleſt productions that ever came
from the wit of man; they would be apt to fuffer the fo'rmer
opinion to take place. But when they ſhould a'lfo be told, that
in the education of thefe men, though great care was taken to
inftruct them in philosophy, and to ſtore their minds with variety
'of knowl'ege, yet there was not the fma'lleft attention given to
the art of commu'nicating theſe to others by fpee'ch; that ſo far
from training them in the ftudy and practice of oratory, their
very firs't principles of ſpeaking were corrupted by the moſt ig'-
norant te'achers, and that this error was never afterwards amen'd-
ed; that in confequence of this, they delivered the words of
tru'th, in the tones of fiction; and that ſome of their preachers,
the moſt em'inent for compofit'ion, were fo far from deli'ghting,
that they difgus'ted their hearers, by the bad'nefs of their de-
livery; the whole wonder would at once vaniſh. They would
then fee that the priesthood was no longer that pow'erful order
which they had imagined; and however robus't the body might
appear, however beau'tiful the fo'rm; they would perceive that
it was ftill no more than form and body, to which the animating
foul
( 171 )
foul was wanting, to difpla'y that beauty, by due expression,
and exert' that vigour, with proper fo'rce.
Indeed it is fo evident, that the prop'er a'rms for the uſe of
the members of the church-mil'itant here on earth, for the fo'ldiers
in Chri'ſt, can be drawn from no oth'er ftores, but thoſe of
or'atory, that it is afton'ifhing how it could pos'sibly be fo entirely
neglected. Nor can this fault be at all imputed to the clergy,
but to a defective educa'tion. We might as well blame the
Chine'fe wom'en for want of the perfect uſe of their limbs in
walking, as tho'fe, for want of powers in fpe'aking. Let fuch
of the laity as are apt fo freely and fo unjustly to throw out their
cenfures on the clergy in this refpect, afk themſelv'es, whether
the'y could do better were they in the'ir place. And have the
clergy any advan'tage over the laity in their courfe of education,
that we ſhould expect greater perfection from them in that point?
But it will be faid, that as it is more nec'effary to the clergy, in
order to the proper diſcharge of the public duty, they ought to
take mo're pa'ins to render themſelves pe'rfect in it. "Tis
granted; and as it is evidently their in'tereft to be poffeffed of
this accompliſhment, ſo it is their wifh'; and I believe that num-
bers of them have tried all the me'ans in their pow'er to attain it.
But will all the pains in the world make men fee their own ha-
bit'ual faults contracted from childhood; or if they fee them,
will they point out the ways of amen'ding them. If a perfon
were early taught to fing' in a very bad' tafte, and continued to
practice in that ftyle to man'hood, would he find it eaſy to
cha'nge it, upon being told that his manner was bad? Could
he have any hopes of doing ſo, without putting himſelf into the
hands of a proper mas'ter? This is enough to elucidate the
whole. The man who has been ill taught to fing', or contracted
a bad manner from imitation, may be fet right, becauſe there
are fkilful mas'ters to be found in the art of mufic. But the
man who has been ill taught to re'ad, or has contracted a bad habit
of fpe'aking, has no hopes of a cu're, becauſe there are no'
ſkilful mafters in the art of delivery to be found; and withou't
fuch aid, he must ever uſe that' mode of utterance, which is
habit'ual to him. If indeed there were eſtab'lifhments made for
the regular te'aching of that art, fo as that it ſhould become a
neceffary part of education; any one deftined to holy orders,
who ſhould neglect the means of improving himfelf, in fo im-
po'rtant a branch of his profeffion, would jus'tly deferve cen'fure;
Lay
1
( 172 )
nay in that' cafe, it is highly probable that it would become a
nec'effary qualification to the admission into the holy office.
+
4
6
•
If there be any one who fhould, in oppofition to what has been ad-
vanced make uſe of the common-place arguments to fhew, that ora-
tory is not only unnec'effary, but even unfit' to be uſed in the pulpit;
I fhall anfwer him in the words of a man, who must be allowed
to be of undoubted authority, I mean St. Auftin; who in his
fourth book on the Chriftian doctrine has the following paffage.
Since it is by the art of rhetoric that people are enabled to ef-
tablish true and falfe opinions, who' fhall dare to fay that
truth fhould be withou't arms, in the perfons of thofe who
are to defend' it againſt falfehood? Can' it be believed that
thoſe who endeavour to enforce a falfe doctrine, fhould be
fkilled in the art of conciliating to themfelves the good-will
' and attention of their hearers, by their addres's; and that
thoſe who fupport the cauſe of truth, fhould not be poffeffed
• of this ſkill? That the on'e, ſhould ſpeak of what is falſe,
• with brev'ity and verifimil´itude; and the oth'er, ſhall diſcourſe
of what is true, in fo te'ḍious, difgus'ting, and unnatural
a manner, as to give pa'in to their hearers, and make them
think their doctrines not credible; that tho'fe, fhould com-
bat truth with fa'lfe arguments, and eſtabliſh fálſe opinions ;
and that the fe, fhould neither be capable of defen'ding, what
is true, nor of confu'ting, what is fa'lfe; that the former,
• ſhould have ſuch power over the minds of their hearers, as to
lead them whith'er they please; that they ſhould be able to
excite in them afton'iſhment, fad'nefs, or joy'; that they ſhould
anʼimate, mo've, and turn' them as they think prop'er; and
'that the latter, ſhould remain co'ld, unaffec'ting, and with-
•ou't power; who can be fo abfurd' as to admit fo extravagant
a thought? Since therefore eloquence, which has a prodigious
power in perfuading people either to fálfe or tru'e opinions,
lies open to all who are inclined to make uſe of it, what' can
be the reaſon that the good' do not employ themſelves in
acquiring an art, fo nec'eflary for the defence of truth? Such'
were the fentiments of that gre'at man, who proved experimentally
the jus'tneſs of his doctrine. The chie'f labour of whofe life was,
the cultivation of the orato'rial powers; and who has recorded
many won'derful effects produced by them on multitudes.
In fhort, when' was it that Chriftianity made its rap'id prog'
refs? It was in the early days, when the talents for elocution
were
( 173 )
were cultivated by the min'iftry, and when the preachers ſpoke
with force and power. When' was it that its progreſs was
opped, and gave way to infidelity? It was in latter times,
after the revival of letters; when the powers of ſpee'ch were pe-
glected, and thoſe of writing were "fub'ftituted in their place.
The form of preaching remained, but the ſpirit was gone.
The divines changed their fharp fword for a fóil, which only
ferved to invi'te the attacks of their enemies; nor were their
bucklers of paper, found of fuffic'ient ftrength, to refift the edge
of fa'tire, and the keen-pointed fting of ridicule. What' is
there now wanting, but to restore to the clergy the uſe of their
tru'e weapon? Let there be but half the pains taken about the
ton'gue, that are now employed about the pen'; let the caufe of
the living God', be pleaded by the living voice; religion, will
once again rear her head'; morality will flourish; and vice
and infidelity, will foon quit' the field.
ON THE SAME SUBJECT,
FROM THE SPECTATOR, &c.
THE well reading of the common-prayer is of great import-
ance, and fo much neglected, that I take the liberty to offer to
your confideration ſome particulars on that ſubject. And what
more worthy your obfervation than this? A thing fo public, and
of fo high confequence. It is indeed wonderful, that the fre-
quent exercife of it ſhould not make the performers of that duty
more expert in it. This inability, as I conceive, proceeds from
the little care that is taken of their reading, while boys, and at
ſchool, where, when they are got into Latin, they are looked upon
as above Engliſh, the reading of which is wholly neglected, or at
leaft read to very little purpoſe, without any due obfervations
made to them of the proper accent and manner of reading; by
this means they have acquired fuch ill habits as will not easily be
removed. The only way that I know of to remedy this, is to
propofe fome perfon of great ability that way as a pattern for
them; example being moſt effectual to convince the learned, as
well as inftruct the ignoraut.
You must know, Sir, I have been a conflant frequenter of the
fervice of the church of England for above theſe four years laft
paſt,
( 174 )
paft, and until Sunday was feven-night never difcovered, to fo
great a degree, the excellency of the common-prayer.
When
being at St. James's Garlick-Hill church, I heard the fervice
read ſo diſtinctly, fo emphatically, and fo fervently, that it was
next to an impoffibility to be inattentive. My eyes and my
thoughts could not wander as ufual, but were confined to my
prayers. I then conſidered I addreſſed myſelf to the Almighty,
and not to a beautiful face. And when I reflected on my former
performances of that duty, I found I had run it over as a matter
of form, in comparifon to the manner in which I then diſcharged
it. My mind was really affected, and fervent wishes accompanied
my words. The Confeffion was read with fuch refigned humility,
the Abfolution with fuch a comfortable authority, the Thankf
givings with fuch a religious joy, as made me feel thofe affections
of the mind in a manner I never did before. To remedy therefore
the grievance above complained of, I humbly propoſe, that this
excellent Reader, upon the next and every annual affembly of
the clergy of Sion-College, and all other conventions, fhould
read prayers before them. For then those that are afraid of
ftretching their mouths, and fpoiling their foft voices, will learn
to read with clearnefs, loudnefs, and ftrength. Others that af
fect a rakish negligent air by folding their arms and lolling on
their book, will be taught a decent behaviour, and comely erec-
tion of body. Thoſe that read fo faſt as if impatient of their
work, may learn to ſpeak deliberately. There is another fort of
perfons whom I call Pindaric readers, as being confined to no
fet meaſure; theſe pronounce five or fix words with great deli-
beration, and the five or fix fubfequent ones with as great celerity:
the first part of a fentence with a very exalted voice, and the
latter part with a ſubmiſſive one: fometimes again, with one
fort of a tone, and immediately after with a very different one.
Theſe gentlemen will learn of my admired reader an evenness of
voice and delivery, and all who are innocent of theſe affectations,
but read with fuch an indifferency, as if they did not under-
ftand the language, may then be informed of the art of reading
movingly and fervently, how to place the emphafis, and give the
proper accent to each word, and how to vary the voice according
to the nature of the fentence. There
There is certainly a very great
difference between the reading a Prayer and a Gazette, which I
beg of you to inform a fet of readers, who affect, forſooth, a
certain gentleman-like familiarity of tone, and mend the language
as
(175)
as they go on, crying inftead of "pardoneth and abfolveth,"
pardons and abfolves." Thefe are often pretty claffical fcho-
lars, and would think it an unpardonable fin to read Virgil or
Martial with fo little taſte as they do Divine Service.
As the matter of worſhip is now managed, in various Diffenting
Congregations, you find infignificant words and phrafes raifed
by a lively vehemence; in our own churches, the moſt exalted
fenfe depreciated, by a difpaffionate indolence. If the gentle-
men who err in this kind would pleafe to recollect the many
pleaſantries they have read upon thofe who recite good things
with an ill grace, they would go on to think that what in that
cafe is only ridiculous, in themfelves is impious. But leaving
this to their own reflections, I fhall conclude with what Cæfar
ſaid upon the irregularity of tone in one who read before him,
"Do you read or fing? If you fing, you fing very ill.”
SPECTATOR, Vol. 2, No. 147.
ON ORATORIAL DELIVERY,
By MR. ADDISON.
MOST foreign writers who have given any character of the
Engliſh nation, whatever vices they afcribe to it, allow in general,
that the people are naturally modeft. It proceeds perhaps from .
this our national virtue, that our orators are obferved to make
ufe of lefs gefture or action than thoſe of other countries. Our
preachers ſtand ſtock ſtill in the pulpit, and will not fo much as
move a finger to fet off the beſt fermons in the world. We meet
with the fame fpeaking ftatues at our bar, and in all public
places of debate. Our words flow from us in a ſmooth continued
fream, without thofe ftrainings of the voice, motions of the
body, and majesty of the hand, which are fo much celebrated
in the orators of Greece and Rome. We can talk of life and
death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a diſcourſe which
turns upon every thing that is dear to us. Though our zeal
breaks out in the fineft tropes and figures, it is not able to ſtir a
limb about us. I have heard it obferved more than once, by thofe
who have feen Italy, that an untravelled Engliſhman cannot reliſh
all the beautics of Italian pictures, becauſe the poftures which are
expreſſed
(176)
expreffed in them are often fuch as are peculiar to that coun-
try. One who has not feen an Italian in the pulpit, will not
know what to make of that noble gefture in Raphael's picture
of St. Paul preaching at Athens, where the apoftle is reprefented
as lifting up both his arms, and pouring out the thunder of his
rhetoric amidst an audience of Pagan philofophers.
It is certain, that proper geftures and vehement expreffions of
the voice cannot be too much ftudied by a public orator. They
afe a kind of comment to what he utters, and enforce every thing
he ſays, with weak hearers, better than the ftrongeſt argument he
can make uſe of. They keep the audience awake, and fix their
attention to what is delivered to them, at the fame time that they
fhew the fpeaker is in earneft, and affected himſelf with what he
fo paffionately recommends to others. Violent geſture and vocife-
ration naturally ſhake the hearts of the ignorant, and fill them
with a kind of religious horror. Nothing is more frequent than
to fee women weep and tremble at the fight of a moving preacher,
though he is placed quite out of their hearing; as in England
we very frequently fee people lulled afleep with folid and elaborate
difcourfes of piety, who would be warmed, and tranfported out of
themſelves, by the bellowing and diftortions of enthuſiaſm.
If nonfenfe, when accompanied with ſuch an emotion of voice
and body, has fuch an influence on men's minds, what might we
not expect from many of thofe admirable difcourfes which are
extant in our tongue, were they delivered with a becoming fer-
vour, and with the most agreeable graces of voice and geſture?
We are told that the great Latin orator very much impaired his
health by the laterum contentio, the vehemence of action, with
which he uſed to deliver himſelf. The Greek orator was like-
wife fo very famous for this particular in rhetoric, that one of
his antagonists, whom he had banished from Athens, reading
over the oration which had procured his banishment, and feeing
his friends admire it, could not forbear aſking them, if they were
fo much affected by the bare reading of it, how much more they
would have been alarmed, had they heard him actually throwing
out ſuch a ſtorm of eloquence.
How cold and dead a figure, in compariſon of thefe two great
men, does an orator often make at the Britiſh bar, holding up
his head, with the moft infipid ferenity, and ftroking the fides
of a long wig that reaches down to his middle? The truth of it
is, there is often nothing more ridiculous than the geftures of an
English
4
· ( 177 )
Engliſh ſpeaker; you fee fome of them running their hands into
their pockets as far as ever they can thruft them, and others
looking with great attention on a piece of paper that has nothing
written on it; you may fee many a ſmart rhetorician turning his
hat in his hands, moulding it into ſeveral different cocks, examin-
ing fometimes the lining of it, and fometimes the button, during
the whole courſe of his harangue. A deaf man would think he
was cheapning a beaver, when perhaps he is talking of the fate
of the British nation. I remember, when I was a young man,
and uſed to frequent Weſtminſter-hall, there was a counſellor
who never pleaded without a piece of packthread in his hand,
which he uſed to twiſt about a thumb or a finger all the while he
was fpeaking: the wags of thoſe days uſed to call it the thread
of his difcourfe, for he was unable to utter a word without it.
One of his clients, who was more merry than wife, ftole it from
him one day in the midſt of his pleading; but he had better
have let it alone, for he loft his caufe by his jeft.
SPECTATOR, Vol. 6, No. 407.
PRACTICAL THOUGHTS,
ON THE SAME SUBJECT,
FROM THE SPECTATOR, &c.
CICERO concludes his celebrated books De Oratore, with
fome precepts for pronunciation and action, without which part,
he affirms, the beft orator in the world can never fucceed; and
an indifferent one, who is mafter of that, fhall gain much greater
applaufe. What could make a ftronger impreffion, fays he, than
thoſe exclamations of Gracchus.- Whither fhall I turn? Wretch
that I am! to what place betake myſelf? Shall I go to the
capitol? Alas! it is overflowed with my brother's blood. Or
'fhall I retire to my own houfe? Yet there I behold my mother
'plunged in mifery, weeping and defpairing !'-Thefe breaks
and turns of paffion, it ſeems, were ſo enforced by the eyes, voice,
and gefture of the ſpeaker, that his very enemies could not re-
frain from tears. I infift, fays Tully, upon this the rather,
<
B b
becauſe
( 178 )
becauſe our orators, who are as it were actors of the truth itſelf,
have quitted this manner of fpeaking; and the players, who are
but the imitators of truth, have taken it up.
I fhall therefore purfue the hint he has here given me, and
for the fervice of the Britiſh ſpeaker, fhall copy ſome of the rules
which this great Roman maſter has laid down; yet without con-
fining myfelf wholly to his thoughts or words: and to adapt
this effay the more to the purpoſe for which I intend it, inſtead
of the examples, he has inferted in his difcourfe, out of the ancient
tragedies, I fhall make ufe of parallel paffages out of the moft
celebrated of our own.
The defign of art is to affift action as much as poffible in the
repreſentation of nature; for the appearance of reality is that
which moves us in all reprefentations, and thefe have always the
greater force, the nearer they approach to nature, and the lefa
they fhow of imitation.
Nature herſelf has affigned, to every emotion of the ſoul, its
peculiar caft of the countenance, tone of voice, and manner or
gefture, through the whole perfon; all the features of the face
and tones of the voice, anfwer, like ftrings upon mufical inftru-
ments, to the impreffions made on them by the mind. Thus the
founds of the voice, according to the various touches, which
raiſe them, form themfelves into an accute or grave, quick or
flow, loud or foft tone. Theſe too may be fubdivided into va-
rious kinds of tones, as the gentle, the rough, the contracted,
the diffuſe, the continued, the intermitted, the broken, abrupt,
winding, foftened, or elevated. Every one of theſe may
be em-
ployed with art and judgment; and all fupply the actor, as co-
lours do the painter, with an expreffive variety.
Anger exerts its peculiar voice in an acute, raiſed, and hurry-
ing found. The paffionate character of King Lear, as it is ad-
mirably drawn by Shakespear, abounds with the ſtrongeſt inftances.
of this kind.
CC
Death! Confufion!
"Fiery!-what quality?-why Glofier! Glofter !
"I'd ſpeak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
«The King would ſpeak with Cornwall; the dear father
"Would with his daughter fpeak; commands her fervice:
"Are they inform'd of this?—My breath and blood!
Fiery? the fiery Duke?-Tell the hot Duke;
66
Go, tell the Duke and his wife, I'd ſpeak with them
"Now
( 179 )
"Now, prefently: bid them come forth and hear me,
"Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum
""Till it cry, fleep to death."
Sorrow and complaint demand a voice quite different, flexible,
flow, interrupted, and modulated in a mournful tone; as in that
pathetical foliloquy of cardinal Wolfey on his fall.
"Farewell!—a long farewell to all my greatneſs!
to day he puts forth
"This is the ſtate of man!
"The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow bloffoms,
"And bears his bluſhing honours thick upon him;
"The third day comes a froft, a killing froſt,
"And when he thinks, good eafy man, full furely
"His greatneſs is a ripening, nips his root,
"And then he falls as I do."
We have likewife a fine example of this in the whole part of
Andromache in The Diftreft Mother, particularly in theſe lines,
If he must die, my life
"I'll go, and in the anguifh of my heart.
"Weep o'er my child
"Is wrapt in his, I fhall not long ſurvive.
"'Tis for his fake, that I have fuffer'd life,
"Groan'd in captivity, and out-lived Hector.
"Yes, my Aftyanax, we'll go together!
"Together to the realms of night we'll go;
"There to thy ravish'd eyes thy Sire I'll fhow,
"And point him out among the fhades below."
}
Fear expreffes itſelf in a low, hefitating, and abject found.
If the reader confiders the following ſpeech of Lady Macbeth,
while her huſband is about the murder of Duncan and his grooms,
he will imagine her even affrighted with the found of her own
voice while the is fpeaking it.
"Alas! I am afraid they have awak'd,
"And 'tis not done; the attempt, and not the deed,
"Confounds us- -Hark! I laid the daggers ready;
"He could not mifs them. Had he not reſembled
(6
My father as he flept, I had done it !”
Courage affumes a firm and lofty tone, as in that ſpeech of
Don Sebaftian.
"Here
( 180 )
"Here fatiate all your fury;
"Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me,
"I have a foul that, like an ample fhield,
"Can take in all, and verge enough for more."
Pleaſure diffolves into a luxurious, mild, tender, and joyous
modulation; as in the following lines in Caius Marius :
"Lavinia! O there's mufick in the name,
"That foftening me to infant tenderneſs,
"Makes my heart fpring like the firft leaps of life."
Perplexity is different from all thefe; grave, but not be-
moaning, with an earneſt, uniform tone of voice; as in that cele-
brated fpeech of Hamlet:
"To be, or not to be?—that is the queſtion:
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to ſuffer
"The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
"Or to take arms againſt a ſea of troubles,
And, by oppofing, end them. To die,-to fleep ;-
"No more; and by a fleep to fay we end
"The heart-ach, and the thouſand natural fhocks
"That flesh is heir to
Devoutly to be wifh'd.
'tis a confummation
To die ;~to i
the rub;
"To fleep! perchance to dream; Ay, th
For in that fleep of death what drea.... nay come,
“When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil,
"Muft give us paufe:-There's the refpect
"That makes calamity of fo long life;
"For who would bear the whips and fcorns of time,
"The oppreffors wrong, the proud man's contumely,
"The pange of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
"The infolence of office, and the fpurns
"That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
"When he himſelf might his quietus make
"With a bare bodkin? Who would fardles bear,
"To groan and ſweat under a weary life;
"But that the dread of fomething after death,-
"The undiſcover'd country, fror whoſe bourn
"No traveller returns,-puzzles the will;
"And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have,
"Than fly to others that we know not of?
« Thus
( 181 )
"Thus confcience does make cowards of us all
"And thus the native hue of refolution
"Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
"And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
"With this regard, their currents turn awry,
"And lofe the name of action."
As all theſe varieties of voice are to be directed by the fenfe,
ſo the action is to be directed by the voice, and with a beautiful
propriety, as it were to enforce it. The arm, which by a ſtrong
figure Tully calls the Orator's weapon, is to be fometimes raiſed
and extended, and the hand, by its motion, fometimes to lead,
and fometimes to follow the words as they are uttered. The
ſtamping of the foot too has its proper expreffion in contention,
anger, or abfolute command. But the face is the epitome of
the whole man, and the eyes are as it were the epitome of the
face; for which reafon, he ſays, the best judges among the
Romans were not extremely pleaſed, even with Rofcius himſelf
in his maſk. No part of the body befides the face, is capable
of as many changes as there are different emotions in the mind,
and of expreffing them all by thofe changes. Nor is this to
be done without the accompaniment of the eyes; therefore
Theophraftus called one, who barely rehearfed his fpeech with
his eyes fixed, an abfent Actor.
As the countenance admits of fo great variety, it requires
alſo great judgment to govern it. Not that the form of the face
is to be ſhifted on every occafion, left it turn to farce and buf-
foonery; but it is certain, that the eyes have a wonderful power
of marking the emotions of the mind, fometimes by a ftedfaft
look, fometimes by a careleſs one, now by a ſudden regard, then
by a joyful ſparkling, as the fenfe of the words is diverfified:
for action is, as it were, the ſpeech of the features and limbs, and
muft therefore conform itſelf always to the fentiments of the
foul. And it may be obſerved, that in all which relates to the
geſture, there is a wonderful force implanted by nature; fince
the vulgar, the unfkilful, and even the most barbarous are
chiefly affected by this. None are moved by the found of words
but thoſe who underſtand the language: and the ſenſe of many
things is loft upon men of a dull apprehenfion: but action is a
univerfal tongue; all men are ſubject to the fame paffions, and
confequently
(182)
}
confequently know the fame marks of them in others, by which
they themselves express them.
There is another thing which my author does not think too
minute to infift on, though it is purely mechanical; and that
is the right pitching of the voice. On this occafion he tells
the ftory of Gracchus, who employed a fervant with a little
ivory pipe to ſtand behind him and give him the right pitch, as
often as he wandered too far from the proper modulation. Every
voice, fays Tully, has its particular medium and compaſs, and
the fweetnefs of fpeech confifts in leading it through all the
variety of tones naturally, and without touching any extreme.
Therefore, fays he, leave the pipe at home, but carry the ſenſe
of the cuſtom with you.
The RULES for DELIVERY preſcribed in the foregoing pages,
particularly as to action, are in various paffages ftrongly incul-
cated and enforced by Shakeſpear; for inftance, in the conduct
which the mother of Coriolanus recommends to her fon, on an
occafion of addreffing the citizens of Rome.
"I pr'ythee now, my fon,
"Go to them, with thy bonnet in thy hand,
"And thus far having fretch'd it, there be with them,
"Thy knee buffing the ftones, (for in fuch bufinefs
"Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
"More learned than the ears,) waving thy head,
"Which often, thus, correcting thy flout heart,
"Now humble, as the ripeft mulberry
"That will not hold the handling: or, fay to them,
"Thou art their foldier, and, being bred in broils,
"Haft not the foft way, which thou doft confefs,
"Were fit for thee to úfe, as they to claim,
"In afking their good loves: &c."
Hamlet's feafonable advice to the players, though neceffarily
concife, may likewife prove an inftructive Leffon on Delivery,
not unworthy the attention of our oratorial practitioners, what-
ever their department.
С6
<<
Speak the fpeech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you,
trippingly on the tongue: But if you mouth it, as many
"of our Players do, I had as lieve the town-crier fpoke
my
( 183 )
66
tt
re my lines. And do not faw the air too much with your hand,
"thus, but uſe all gently; for in the very torrent, tempeft,
and, as I may fay, whirlwind of your paffion, you muſt ac-
quire and beget a temperance that may give it ſmoothneſs.
"Ô, it offends me to the foul, to hear a robuftious, periwig-
pated fellow tear a paffion to tatters, to very rags, to ſplit the
ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of
nothing, but inexplicable dumb fhews, and noife: I would
"have fuch a fellow whipt for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-
"herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. Be not too tame neither;
"but let your own difcretion be your tutor. Suit the action
"to the word, the word to the action, with this fpecial ob-
"fervance, that you o'erftep not the modefty of nature; for any
thing fo overdone is from the purpoſe of playing, whofe
"end, both at firſt and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
mirrour up to nature; to fhew virtue her own feature; fcorn
"her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his
"form and preſſure. Now this overdone, or come tardy of, tho'
"it make the unfkilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
grieve the cenfure of which one, muft, in your allowance,
o'er-weigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be Players
"that I have ſeen play, and heard others praife, and that highly
(not to speak it prophanely) that neither having the accent
"of chriftians, nor the gait of chriftian, pagan, nor man, have fo
"ſtrutted and bellowed, that I have thought fome of nature's
"
(C
for
journey-men, had made men, and not made them well; they
"imitated humanity fo abominably. And let thofe, that play
your Clowns ſpeak no more than is fet down for them;
"there be of them that will themfelves laugh, to ſet on ſome
quantity of barren fpectators to laugh too; though in the mean
"time, fome neceffary queftion of the Play be then to be confi-
"dered: That's villainous; and fhews a moft pitiful ambition
" in the fool that uſes it."
The following EPISTLES addreffed to two young Divines, by
Dr. Byrom,* of Mancheſter, notwithſtanding the fingularity of
the ftyle, feem written with ſo much good humour and good
fenfe, and contain precepts as well as advice fo much to the pur-
pofe,
* Author of the elegant paftoral ballad, My Time, O, ye Mufes, &c.
printed in the 8th Volume of the Spectator; Inventor of the Univerfat
Short Hand; F. R. S and ſometime Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge,
( 184 )
pofe, that I do not heſitate to infert them here, and recommend
them to the ſerious peruſal of every candidate for holy orders.
ADVICE TO PREACH SLOW.
BRETHREN, this comes to let you know
That I would have you to preach flow ;
To give the words of a diſcourſe
Their proper time, and life, and force ;
To urge what you think fit to ſay,
In a fedate, pathetic way;
Grave and deliberatè, as 'tis fit
To comment upon holy writ.
Many a good fermon gives diftafte,
By being fpoke in too much hafte;
Which, had it been pronounc'd with leiſure,
Would have been liften'd to with pleaſure :
And thus the preacher often gains
His labour only for his pains;
As (if you doubt it) may appear
From every Sunday in the year.
For how indeed can one expect
The beſt diſcourſe ſhould take effect,
Unleſs the maker thinks it worth
Some care and pains to fet it forth?
What! does he think the pains, he took
To write it fairly in a book,
Will do the buſineſs? not a bit--
It muſt be ſpoke as well as writ.
What is a fermon, good or bad,
If a man reads it like a lad?
To hear fome people, when they preach,
How they run o'er all parts of ſpeech,
And neither raiſe a word, nor ſink,
Our learned biſhops, one wou'd think,
Had taken ſchool-boys from the rod,
To make ambaffadors of God.
So perfect is the Chriftian ſcheme,
He that from thence fhall take his theme,
And time to have it underſtood,
His fermon cannot but be good:
If he will needs be preaching ftuff,
No time indeed is fhort enough;
E'en
( 185 )
E'en let him read it like a letter,
The fooner it is done, the better.
But for a man that has a head,
Like yours or mine, I'd like to have ſaid,
That can upon occafion raife,
A juft remark, a proper phrafe;
For fuch a one to run along,
Tumbling the accents o'er his tongue,
Shows only that a man at once,
May be a ſcholar and a dunce.
In point of fermons, 'tis confeſt,
Our English Clergy make the beſt :
But this appears, we muft confefs,
Not from the pulpit, but the press
They manage, with disjointed fkill,
The matter well, the manner ill;
And, what feems paradox at first,
They write the beſt, and preach the worſt.
Both excellencies would unite,
Wou'd they but ſpeak as well as write,
The outward action being taught,
To fhew the ftrength of inward thought:
Now, to do this, our fhort-hand ſchool
Lays down this plain and general rule,
Take time enough- -all other graces
Will foon fill up their proper places.
ON PREACHING EXTEMPORE,
THE hint I gave, ſome time ago,
Brethren, about your preaching flow,
You took it ſeems; and thereupon
Could make two fermons out of one :
Now this regard to former lines,
Paid fo fucceſsfully, inclines
To fend advice the fecond part:
Try if you cannot preach by heart-
Be not alarm'd, as if regard
To this would prove fo very hard ;
C c
The
( 186 )
The firſt admonishment you fear'd
Would ſo turn out, 'till it appear❜&
That cuftom, only, made to feem
So difficult in your eſteem,
What, upon trial, now procures
Your hearers cafe, and alſo yours.
Do but conſider how the cafe
Now ftands in fact, in every place,
All Chriftendom, almoft, around,
Except on our reformed ground:
The greatest part, untaught to brook
A preacher's reading from a book,
Would ſcarce advance within his reach,
Or, then, acknowlege him to preach.
Long after preaching firſt began,
How unconceiv'd a reading plan!
The rife of which, whatever date
May be affign'd to it, is late:
From all antiquity remote
The manufcriptal reading rote:
No need, no reafon prompted, then,
The pulpit to confult the pen.
However well prepar'd before,
By pondering, or by writing o'er
What he ſhould ſay, ftill it was SAID
By him that preach'd; it was not READ
Could ancient memory, then, better
Forbear the poring o'er the letter,
Brethren, than yours? if you'll but try,
That fact I'll venture to deny.
Moderns, of late, give proofs enoo,
Too many, as it ſeems to you)
That matters of religious kind,
Stor'd up within the thoughtful mind,
With any care and caution ftor'd,
Sufficient utterance afford,
To tell an audience what they think,
Without the help of pen and ink.
How apt to think too, is the throng,
A preacher fhort, a reader long!
Claiming, itfelf, to be the book
That fhould attract a paftor's look:
If
( 187 )
If you lament a careleſs age
Averfe to hear the pulpit page,
Speak from within, not from without,
And heart to heart will turn about.
Try it; and if you can't fucceed,
'Twill then be right for you to read;
Altho' the heart, if that's your choice,
Muft ftill accompany the voice;
And tho' you ſhould fucceed, and take
The hint, you muft not, merely, make
Preaching extempore the view,
But Ex ETERNITATE too.
TO A FRIEN D,
ON CLERGYMEN PREACHING POLITICS.
INDEED, Sir Peter, I could wifh, I own,
That parfons would let politics alone;
Plead, if they will, the cuftomary plea,
For fuch like talk, when o'er a diſh of tea;
But when they teaze us with it from the pulpit,
I own, Sir Peter, that I cannot gulp it.
If on their rules a Juftice fhould intrench,
And preach, fuppofe, a fermon, from the bench,
Would you not think
not think your brother magiſtrate
Was touch'd a little in his hinder pate?
Now which is worfe, Sir Peter, on the total,
The Lay Vagary, or the Sacerdotal ?
In ancient times, when preachers preach'd indeed
Their fermons, ere the Learned learnt to read,
Another ſpirit, and another life,
Shut the church doors againſt all party ftrife:
Since then, how often heard, from facred roftrums,
The lifelefs din of Whig and Tory noflrums!
'Tis wrong, Sir Peter, I infift upon't;
To common fenfe 'tis plainly an affront :
The parfon leaves the Chriftian in the lurch,
Whene'er he brings his politics to church;
His cant, on either fide, if he calls preaching,
The man's wrong-headed, and his brains want bleaching.
Recall
A
( 188 )
Recall the time from conquering William's reign,
And guess the fruits of fuch a preaching vein :
How oft its nonfenfe muſt have veer'd about,
Juft as the politics were in, or out:
The pulpit govern'd by no goſpel data,
But new fuccefs ftill mending old errata.
Were 1 a king (God bleſs me) I ſhould hate
My chaplains meddling with affairs of ftate;
Nor would my fubjects, I ſhould think, be fond,
Whenever theirs the Bible went beyond;
How well, methinks, we both fhould live together,
If theſe good folks would keep within their tether!
ON PREJUDICE.
1
I SHALL cloſe this part of the Work with ſtrictures on the
fubject of prejudice, by way of anticipation againſt ſurpriſe at a n
freedoms I may be thought to have taken with common and e-
ceived opinions; as well as becauſe prejudice is the greateſt ob-
ftruction to real knowlege that ever ſpread a veil over it. The
firſt ſtep to virtue, fay moralifts, is to diveſt ourſelves of vice:
and, by parity of reaſoning, the leading effort to adorn the mind
is to purge it of prejudice, which, like flime, muddles the
transparent fountain of truth.
The confequences of prejudice would not be of fuch moment
were they confined to opinion; but daily obſervation teaches that
the practice of men is under the immediate and powerful direc-
tion of its influence, and often diſtorted from the paths of rec-
titude by obfequious attention to its dictates. The ghofts of
thoufands, fent untimely to their graves, rife up in judgment A
againſt it.
In points of moment prejudices are followed by the worſt of
confequences to peace and harmony. Few are fatisfied with
being alone under the tyranny of falfe opinions, without endea-
vouring to enflave others and confine them with the fame
fhackles themfelves have fubmitted to wear. Men look with
envy and hatred on the retainers to different fentiments, and
confider their diffent from them as a reproach, and a contempt
to their judgment and perfons. Hence arife, eſpecially in the
political world, bickerings and animofity, rancour and blood-
fhed, with every evil that the malice of a little mind can invent.
From
}
( 189 )
From individuals the rage extends to numerous parties, and
whole communities are forced, by dint of tyranny, to enliſt in
the cauſe. It is a diverting fpectacle to fee oppofite fets of two-
legged wolves, at a country election, foaming and worrying one
another, they know not why, in defence of candidates, who
are regaled by their fimplicity, and purpofe to fell them at the
earliest market.
True friendship and harmony can fubfift only where there is
nearly a uniformity of opinions; and uniformity of opinion
cannot fafely be conſtructed on any other bafis than that of
general truths, which continue invariably the fame.
Prejudice and error, it must be owned, have united com-
panions in a caufe, and been productive of hearty friendſhip,
on fome occafions, equally with truth itfelf; but they are un-
certain foundations to truft to, perpetually changing as tempers
change. The vulgar, who are confined by the strongest fetters
of prejudice, are eternally jarring, in confequence of their blind-
neſs, which fuffers them to difquiet one another, in obedience to
every tranfport of paffion. Men, whofe underſtandings are re-
fined, on the other hand, happily coincide, by a certain fympathy,
in their opinions, and live in harmony. The general views they
have of things fuperfede particular errors, which are the feeds of
diffenfion, and conjointly operate to univerfal peace.
I would not have it fuppofed I mean to fay, that all men of
fenfe agree in every particular. Such a harmony is utterly in-
compatible with human nature, and would terminate in a general
ſtagnation. Of the millions that inhabit our globe, there are
not any two who completely refemble each other; nor fhould
we wish for fuch a univerfality. A variety of views and ob-
jects, a variety of offices and occupations, a variety of odours and
favours, a variety of pleaſures and amufements, call for a variety
of taltes, tempers, and choices, or the bounty of Nature is loft.
Muft the ſprightly Mira pine for a lover becaufe Eugenius
affects a melting maid? or muſt the languiſhing Delia die unbleſt
becauſe Florio is taken with livelier attractions? The queen of
beauty anſwers, No: her decree is, that Maria fhould be happy
in the poffeffion of Florio, and Delia be the choice of her Eu
genius that both the pairs fhould live in harmony as friends,
and differ only about the object of their love.
:
Reafon will not evince that what is agreeable to the palate of
one, muſt likewife pleaſe the taste of another. The pores and
particles of our organs are variously difpofed and conſtructed,
and
( 190 )
and produce not in every one the fame flavour: the tempers of
men are different, and are differently affected by objects in them-
felves the fame. Brutus might facrifice a bolom-friend to the
public, and affaffinate Cæfar; while another, warmed with the
feelings of a friend, could not, in the precarious hope of ferving
his country, refift the impulſes of private affection. We may par-
don, nay, even applaud both for their virtues, as much as we
fhould condemn them if they concurred in the fchemes of ambition
abſtracted from the ties of friend!hip. Primary and leading truths
are not ſubject to variation, in polifhed minds, as dependent on
eternal and unalterable principles. To injure another without
a caufe cannot be juftified by the moft fubtle fophiftry, or the
moft eloquent harangue. Reafon condemns it on certain data,
admitted by every one exempt from prejudice. And if we allow,
with Pope, that there are but few certain truths in the world, we
cannot fo far vindicate Pyrrhonifm, as to grant that there are
none at all.
Prejudice is the more dangerous, as it bears the femblance of
truth, bringing juft conclufions from falſe premiſes, and is on that
account with more difficulty avoided. An open foe is leſs to be
dreaded than a fecret flattering enemy, becauſe we are aware of
him and it may even be queftioned if the votaries of prejudice
are not more convinced of the reality of thoſe abfurdities they
entertain, than the moſt rational philofopher is of any general
truth he believes. Narrow minds are ever obftinate in their opi-
nions: clear underſtandings are more diffident in deciding, better
acquainted with the apifh chicanery of error, and more open to
conviction when afforded them.
There is no bound fet to this ape of truth. To what lengths
has not prejudice led men? Abfurdities, that brutes would be
fhocked at, have been believed by men. Onions and crocodiles
have been adored as gods. The moſt intolerable nonſenſe of
the most extravagant genius has been, by the power of prejudice,
received with the honours of truth, and propagated.
When we fee a lunatic, with all his wildneſs about him, we
are naturally led to afford him our pity. The diſeaſe of mind
he labours under is regarded as one of the greateſt evils that can
befal a human being: the tendereft concern is expreffed in en-
deavours to recal his fugitive ſenſes, and phyſical aid is applied to
for relief. But prejudice, which is a partial lunacy, is nurſed
and cheriſhed. No pity is afforded to this fpecies of infanity;
no
( 191 )
no cure is fought for one agitated by this demon of abfurdity:
he is not eſteemed a demoniac, though his madnefs extends to
the fuhverfion of unity, friendship, and every bleffing in life.
If we nicely examine the matter, we fhall find that the greater
part of received notions are not the refult of reflection, but that
they are derived by patrimonial inheritance. Prejudices defcend,
like eftates, from father to fou; and the latter feems to think this
part of his inheritance a neceffary article of his father's will,
which muft not be reverfed, on pain of his lofing the other lega-
cies included in the teftament.
Not that it is proper for every one to fet himfelf up for a
thinker, in oppofition to wifer heads, or on points he is not a
judge of. It is no more the buſineſs of fome to make their own
opinions than it is to make their own cloaths: all are not fit for
thinkers, and all are not fit for taylors. A milkmaid that would
wrangle with Newton about the origin of colours, would do well
to diſpoſe of her wares: Though the liquid fhe deals in is always
white, it will not be expected of her to account for this accidental
quality, as philofophers themſelves have difputed whether the
rays of light are more reflected from fubftances of large, or of
fmall pores; from the furfaces, or from the vacuities of matter.
I would only urge, as many a fimple man has done before me,
that we should not embrace a fentiment for fterling becauſe our
grandmothers did fo, when indifputable arguments are brought
to contradict it. Many a man, to whom Nature has imparted a
bountiful ſhare of good fenfe, has had that bleffing miferably loft
on him, by fervilely adhering to the dogmas of others, lefs dif-
tinguiſhed for underſtanding than himfelf. To have an opinion
backed by another is unquestionably one argument that may be
alledged in favour of that opinion; but before it be fet down for
fterling, by a man of moderate difcernment, it ought to be ex-
amined on principles of reafon, particularly if controverted.
Every abfurdity of heathen mythology, every deceit of unhallowed
fuperftition, but for reflection, had been received at this day,
and acknowleged for divine.
Prejudices are implanted in the tender minds of youth as early
as they are capable of ideas. When under the care of their
nurfes, they are taught to believe in ghofts, hobgoblins, and
witches: and when that ftage of life is fucceeded by the next,
they are inſtructed to deſpiſe and hate the members of a different
communion, and the natives of a different country.
Thus pre-
judice being fucked in, as it were, with their mother's milk, it
i &
(192)
is not a fubject of wonder that it grows up with them. A boy,
that is strongly poffeffed of the notion of fprites and apparitions,
will dread the dark, in fpite of his reaſon, when grown a man.
As one idea of genuine knowlege fuggefts another, ſo one
falfe conception is engendered from the fpawn of another.
Erroneous maxims in one point are proper foundations for a mil-
lion more.
The concatenation of our reafonings may as aptly
be rendered ſubſervient to the purpoſes of error, as become ſteps
to fublimer truths. Falfe notions are, then, to be avoided with
redoubled precaution for the train of abfurdities, which (infe-
parable companions as Bardolph, Nim, and Piftol,) cloſely pur-
fue each others heels. It is more prudent to combat a ſingle foe,
than, by lofing time, to allow him opportunity to convene a
hoft to his affiftance.
·
The meanness of prejudice, were there no evils arifing from
it, ſhould lead to avoid it. Every narrow notion, a man of
little mind betrays to a perſon of ſenſe, is regarded by the latter
as the boundary of his understanding, planted there by his nig-
gardly Genius, and purchafes his contempt; or elfe his pity,
which is nearly allied to contempt. His pride ought, in fuch
a cafe, to receive an alarm, and excite to a removal of the
caufe of his difgrace. I know not whether the character of a
fool is not more difliked than that of a knave, through the iniquity
of the times; however the latter, from numberless confiderations,
fhould meet the fcorn.
Reflections like thefe are obvious to the loweft capacity. No
one in his fenfes will go about to contradict what has been here
afferted, and yet all of us, in fome inftances or other, have need
of fuch advice. The cap will fit the greater part of the world;
but few will own and wear it; Few are found fo candid. This
very blind partiality to ourſelves is the grand prejudice that rivets
and confirms all our other prejudices: till men are perfuaded that
they can be in the wrong, they never will be at the pains of in-
forming themſelves in what they err. Every one is to himſelf a
world, a univerfal mind, and a judge fupreme, with whom refides
the last appeal; and at the tribunal of each individual's opinion
muft all other men, and their actions, fall proftrate, to receive their
fentence. We all propofe ourſelves as patterns and teachers, but
refuſe to ſubmit to the example or judgment of any one: we all,
like dictators, affume fovereignty in decifion, and in private indulge.
the pride, vanity, and arrogance, which are difplayed in a more
public manner by an AUTHOR.
ON THE
SUPPOSED EXCELLENCE
OF THE
LEARNED LANGUAGES, IN THE ARTICLE OF BREVITY
OR CONCISENESS,
COMPARED WITH THE MODERN ENGLISH.
I HAVE fo often heard the learned languages for brevity
and terſeneſs of expreffion preferred to our own, that I imagine
a concife review of the real ſtate of the queſtion, as a matter of
curiofity at leaft, will not be altogether uninterefting. It is
roundly afferted that no original work, for inftance the Iliad
or the Æneid, can be rendered into English without a degree of
circumlocution, diffuſeneſs, or prolixity; confequently that the
tranflations, requiring a greater latitude of expreffion than the
works in their native drefs, cannot be fo compact; but will neceffa-
rily run to a greater extent than in either of the learned tongues.
This, indeed is an opinion pretty generally received; but I con-
ceive an opinion, like many others, too implicitly admitted and
adopted without fufficient examination; nay, upon a fair and im-
partial fcrutiny, I perfuade myfelf, it will appear that the direct
contrary is the fact: the English in point of brevity or con-
cifenefs, has confiderably the advantage of both the Latin and
Greek. I reft my affertion, not on ftraggling phrafes, or par-
ticular paffages partially felected, which may be picked up in
all languages, but on the verfions of thoſe works, already in the
hands of the public, compared with the originals at large. It
is objected to our language that it abounds in monofyllables, a
defect as it is called with which the learned languages are not
chargeable, being chiefly compofed of polyfyllables; an unlucky
argument on the footing of brevity: for if I can exprefs in
Dd
one
( 194 )
!
one fyllable what will coft the Latins or Grecks two, three, or
perhaps more, I certainly do it at a lefs expence of time and
breath, which is what in this cafe is implied by brevity or con-
cifeneís; but this is an argument by the bye, of which I fhall
not take the advantage. Let Homer and Virgil, Pope, Cowper,
Dryden, Warton, and Pitt, not to mention others, for the ho-
nour of their reſpective tongues, be fummoned to appear; we
cannot have better evidence.
In cafes depending on calculation and admeafurement, it is
proper in the first place to fix upon fome common and ſettled
ftandard; otherwife it would be impoffible to attain a juft and
precife idea of the quantum, or affign to each its relative pro-
portion. In the prefent cafe the mere number of lines, or what
is more in our favour, the mere number of fyllables, is inadequate
to the purpofe; for that implies an equality, which as is known.
to the commoneft reader, does not exist; we muſt rather refer
to the metre; that, in the language of Profodians, is reſolvable
into quantity, or the time taken up in pronouncing, and luckily
this affords a criterion against which there can be no poffible
objection. 'Tis true the ancient and mern verſes are not of
the fame extent or construction, on this chiefly hitches the argu-
ment; but in fome respects they agree, and admit of an eaſy
compariſon. Both are compofed of feet.
A foot in poetry, analogous to a bar in mufic, is a combina-
tion of two or three fyllables, making certain impreffions on,
the ear at flated and regular intervals; a limited fucceffion of
which conſtitutes verfe, and theſe are of divers defcriptions.
The hexameter or heroic verfe of the ancients, confifts of fix
feet, equal as to time, i. e. to four fhort quantities, though
indifferently of two or three fyllables. The English heroic
verfe extends but to five feet, of three thort quantities, equi-
valent to, or wholly iambic, which is the prevailing, and only
foot, which of itfelf conftitutes, an English, heroic erfe; a
pofition which the following lines will ferve fufficiently to illuf
trate, and as they are marked, must be obvious to inſpection;
The feet are feparately diftinguished by a fhort perpendicular
line paſſed between them; and, for the ufe of fuch readers as may
not be very converfant in matters of this nature, the quantity
of the ſyllables, of which the feet are feverally compofed, is like-
wife pointed out: a ſmall horizontal froke, - denotes the fyllable
over which it takes place to be long; the fhort fyllables are
diftinguiſhed
1
1
( 195 )
o
diftinguiſhed by a little curve turned upwards ; the marks
generally uſed by Profodíans: The fyllables purely accented
have likewife their peculiar mark.
And mánỹ | ăn ámě | rous, máný ă húmě | rous lay,
Which mány | ǎ bard | hăd cháunt | ĕd mány | ǎ Day; |
To wake | the fōul by ten' | děr ſtrōkes | õf ärt |
To raiſe | the gẽ | niŭs ånd | to men'd | the heart |
There are no less than three feet ſpecifically different, befides
a two fold variety of the fame foot, employed in the structuré
of theſe four verſes; yet the verſes are all of the fame clafs, purely
heroic, confifting each of five feet, however different in num-
ber of fyllables, equivalent to five of the pure iambic kind. The
firſt and ſecond verfe chiefly trifyllabic, terminated by an
iambic; the third all iambic, and the laſt all but one, which
is a tribrach; exhibiting a variety, for which it would be dif
ficult to produce a parallel in a like number of lines equally
circumſtanced through the whole range of antiquity. It may
not be amiſs here farther to obferve, that the Greek and Roman
numbers depend wholly on quantity, infeparably annexed to
the mechaniſm of their fyllables. We alſo have the ufe of quan-
tity, not indeed mechanically reſtricted to the cafual arrangement
of letters and fyllables, but chiefly refulting from emphaſis
and the relative importance of the fenfe, as may be ſeen in thẻ
verſes before cited; but the grand principle on which our
metre depends is Accent, which in regulating the movement, as
may alſo be perceived in the foregoing verfes, does the office of
quantity, and gives us an advantage over the ancients, for which
they had nothing to compenfate.
7
Theſe points being previouſly eſtabliſhed, which though a
very flight and curfory view of the fubject, feemed neceffary
in aid of our more immediate enquiry; whether in fact the
ancient tongues have the advantage of our modern Engliſh in
the article of brevity or concifenefs? we have fo far cleared the
way and with more certainty can proceed to a conclufion.
A line
* The trifyllabic foot ufed in our Heroic Verfe does not alter or brek
in upon the time; for the three Syllables, by nature fhort, and the pure
Iambic of two Syllables, one fhort and the other long, are precifely equal,
or mufically ſpeaking a Bar of three notes all Quavers and a Bar confift-
ing of a Quaver and a Crotchet, tho' but of two, are perfectly equivalent.
.
( 196 )
A line from the ancients with a correfponding one in Englift
will fuffice as examples of the meaſure.
1
armă virumque că | nō Trō | jæ qui | prīmus ǎb | ōrīs ||
arms and the man' | I fing' | who fir'ft | from Troy
Theſe lines are not partially ſelected, but indifferently taken;
both are verfe, heroics in their kind, according to the genius of
their language; and it is óbfervable, in the very firft inftance,
the Engliſh is five fyllables fhorter than the Latin, of which it is
a literal tranſlation; it might be farther obſerved, the Latin
is partly elliptical, wanting the nominative cafe Ego, which
would add two fyllables more, to make it completely grammar;
whereas the Engliſh requires no addition, expreffed or under-
ftood, being in that refpect perfectly complete; and three
of its five feet are here formed by accent.
Profodians agree that a long fyllable or quantity is equal to
two ſhort; and by the fhort, as a ftandard unexceptionably con-
venient, the meafure is computed. From this view it is manifeft,
that the ancient heroic verfe extends to twenty-four fhort times,
fyllables or quantities, name them as you will; the English is
compriſed in fifteen, however modified or combined in forming
the different feet, which conſtitute heroic verfe. It is by no
means requifite to take into confideration the various combina-
tions or fucceffive arrangement of the feet, which is, with few
limitations, pretty much at the difcretion of the poet; for in this
cafe the reafoning that holds of one applies to all. But to
form a more diftinct and perfect idea of the meaſure, let us view
it divefted of words, naked as it were, and in the abſtract, we
need go no farther than the verſes before us,
I
-
I
Ancient Heroic.
-
Modern Heroic.
U
- ||
| - - || 6 feet.
5 feet.
To thoſe, any way converfant in mufic, it may be rendered ſtill
more obvious, and eaſy of comprehenfion, by confidering the feet,
in a way already noted, as analogous to bars; long fyllables as
crotchets, and the ſhort, quavers; crotchets and quavers being
preciſely in the fame proportion as the long and fhort quantities
of profodians; one crotchet being equal to two quavers; and thus
the double bar or ftrain of the muſicians anfwers to what we call
a verſe,
( 197 )
a verfe, whether of ancient or modern ftructure. The Hexa
meter or ancient heroic verfe, equivalent to a ſtrain of fix bars,
common time, i. e. each of two crotchets, or four quavers, how-
ever modulated, equal upon the whole to twenty-four quavers;
the modern or Engliſh heroic, includes but five bars, triple time,
of one crotchet and a quaver, or three quavers each, counting
together no more than fifteen. Common time, and triple time,
are terms purely technical, without any reference to ſwift-
nefs or flowneſs, or specific difference in real executive time,
introduced to mark and regulate the movement. The ancients
well underſtood the nature of feet in poetry; but in the fifter
art, knew no fuch diftinction: bars in mufic, as well as ftops in
writing, are of modern invention; the ancient mufic is without
them. Now fuppofing two pieces of mufic, with or without
words, compofed agreeably to the premiſes, in the proportion of
twenty-four to fifteen, and, to avoid cavil, the performance regu-
lated by a chronometer, every note of fimilar defcription in the
one, of the fame abfolute value as in the other, it would be an
affront to common fenſe, to ſay on the aggregate, which would
be the ſhorteſt. It is level to the commoneft capacity. Mufic
and poetry, which comprife the whole of delivery, are in this
reſpect governed by one and the fame law; this is the com-
mon ſcale, and as I conceive, the only one, with propriety, we
can refer to, in determining the queftion before us, which pre-
fently I mean to apply.
It may be faid, and who can difpute it? of the true pronunciation
of Latin and Greek we have no competent judges; to their par-
ticular mode of articulating certain letters, either ſeparately or
in combination, we are utterly ftrangers; of their Rythmus,
a matter, as was before obſerved, wholly mechanical, we are per-
fectly mafters. Homer or Virgil, were they to arife from the
grave, and hear an Englishman read their works, would not pro-
bably in his mode of pronunciation recognize their own lan-
guage; but in the time of pronunciation, which, on muſical
principles, is governed by the rythmus, our preſent object,
he would make no material encroachment. We, in general,
pronounce the ancient languages, par pro pari, as we pronounce
our own; and in English, the grand law of fyllabication is fo
precife and unequivocal, that an accurate ſpeaker, even were he
ftriving, can hardly tranfgrefs. The grand law of diftin&t
utterance, I fpeak not of idiomatic, or partial differences, is
Brevity; which includes two general rules:
I. Pro-
( 198 )
1. Pronounce every fhort fyllable or quantity in the fhorteft
poffible time, confiftent with diftinct articulation, which is in all
caſes to be understood; as, cap, pet, kit, top, put.
2. Pronounce every long fyllable in the fhorteft poffible time,
dwelling on it the fhorteft poffible time, to mark its peculiar
nature; as, cape, pete, kite, tope, pute.
one
Now the fhoiteft poffible time requifite to diftin&t articulation,
and the fhorteft poffible time in dwelling on a found, fo articu.
lated, to mark its differential character, muft neceffarily be
equal, and cannot be otherwife, even in conception, i. e.
long fyllable or quantity is equal to two ſhort, and thoſe of a fixed
and determinate meaſure; an advantage wanting to mufic; for,
in that faſcinating art, which indeed fpeaks a univerſal language,
the notes as to time, in every other refpect perfect, are merely
relative, and as fuch, fubject to adventitious variation. For
the fame paffage, the fame melody, may be performed, quick
or flow, as well as foft or loud, ftill preferving its identity, as
humour or conceits fhall govern. In fpeech the cafe is otherwife;
the meaſure of time is abfolute, I mean fimply as to enuncia-
tion; it is not governed by humour or caprice; all men, free from
organical defects, like all harplichords, are upon a par as to
mere articulation, uttering the found in the moment of impulſe;
though in impaffioned difcourfe, and for the fake of expreffion,
they may indulge their feelings, and deviate a little into an ener-
getic fwell, or plaintive whine; yet thofe are but occafional
exceptions, of no force againſt the general rule; which is, if I
may ſo expreſs it, an inftinct of nature, and the uniform practice
of every accurate ſpeaker. Nor in that reprehenſible volubility
of ſpeech obſervable in fome, is the caſe altered; their quickneſs,
which is always attended with palpable indiftin&tnefs, proceeds
from the rapid fucceffion of fyllables, and the total neglect of
paufes or ftops, not to any abridgment of the time infeparable
from diftin& articulation; for that is impoffible. Diftinct or in-
diftinct they neceffarily muft be; there is no medium. Thoſe who
from vicious imitation, difgraceful indolence, or affectation equally
difgraceful; confirmed evil babits, felf-fufficiency, or whatever
cauſe natural or acquired, labour under impediments of ſpeech;
clutter fyllables awkwardly together, fabftitute one letter for ano-
ther, mutilate fyllables, fuppreffing fome letters entirely, mince
or mouth their words, mifplace or multiply and fleep upon the
accents, babble they may, but never cau deſerve precedence in
the honourable clafs of ſpeakers.
The
( 199 )
The metrical or mufical Principle, which I have endeavoured
to explain, perfectly coinciding with the genius of our Tongue,
is in a ftill more peculiar fenfe adapted to the language of the
ancients; for 'tis probable their common way of ſpeaking was
in a fort of Chant or Recitative, fomewhat analogous to the
Chant of our Cathedral Service, or the Recitative of modern
Operas, as may be collected from the ſtory of Gracchus's Pitch
Pipe, (p. 182,) and the Plot or ftage Regulation uniformly
prefixed to Terence's Comedies. We there find, as an indifpen-
fible property, a mufical accompaniment of two Flutes conftantly
appointed, which continued playing in fupport of the Speakers
the whole time of the Piece; a practice which has greatly
puzzled the Critics, and cannot well be reconciled on any other
principle but that of their commonly fpeaking in a fort of Chant
or Recitative. We likewiſe read that the Barbarians took great
delight in liftening to the harangues of the Ancient Orators,
though
HOMER.
Greek
Hexameter.
1 Iliad 611 equivalent to 977:3
Heroics.
English Pope's
Tranfl.
Differ. Cowper's Differ.
fhorter.

Tranf. fhorter.
781 by 196.3
752 by 225:3
23456 78
877
1403:1
1071
332:1
1075
328:1
461
737:3
577
160:3
540
197:3
544
870:2
..
637
233:2
644
226:2
909
1454:2
II2I
333:2
1083
371:2
529
846:2
679
167:2
645
201:2
482
771:1
580.
191:1
570
201:1
561
897:3
708
189:3
655
242:3
9
709
1134:2
837
297:2
884
250:2
ΙΟ
579
926:2
680
246:2
683
243:2
II
847
1355:1
985
370:1
1034
321:I
12
47 I
753:3
562
191:3
573
180:3
13
837
1339:1
Хобо
279:1
1017
322:1
14
522
835:1
618
217:1
632
203:1
15
746
1193:3
909
284:3
903
290:31
16
867
13871 1049
338:1
1062
325:1
17
761.
1217:3
854
363:3
921
296:3
18
616
985:3
712
273:3
765
220:3
19
424
678:2
47 I
207:4
518
160:2
20
503
804:4
590
214:4
620
184:4
21
61r
977:3
724
253:3
705
272:3
22
515
824:
663
161:
602
222:
23
24
897
1435:1 1003
372:1
· 1106
329:1
804
1286:2 1016
270:2
IOI7
275:2
Tot Gr.15683 equal to Eng 25002:4 18947
6145:4 19000
6092:
( 200 )
though they knew not a word of what was ſaid, engaged folely
by the modulation of their accents: this ſtill farther confirms our
hypothefis. It has been fhewn that the ancient and modern
metre is as 15 to 24; confequently their compofitions will be
inverſely in the like proportion; i. e. 24 lines of ours are preciſely
equal to 15 of theirs: In other words, a Poem of 1500 lines
in either of the learned tongues compriſed in an Engliſh Tranſla-
tion of 2400 lines, Rhyme or blank Verfe, is numerically at Par,
By this Scale the annexed Tables were conftructed,. p. 199, &c.
The 1ft column exhibits the Books of the Iliad, &c. with
the number of lines each, as in the original. The next column
fhews to a fraction, the Number of Engliſh Heroics exactly
correfponding. To this fucceeds the actual Number of Lines
in Pope's Tranflation, with the complement, or difference fhort
of the Limitation; and lastly, on the fame ground, follows
Cowper's. By which at one view may be ſeen, that, on
any fingle Book, or the whole upon an average, cæteris paribus,
Greek
Hexameter.
Cowper's Differ.
a

English
Heroics.
Pope's Differ.
Tranfl. fhorter.
TranД. fhorter,
ΙΟ
123450 noo ao
1 Odyff. 444 equivalent to 710:2
558 by 152:2
564 by 146:2
434
694:2
475
219:2
553
141:2
497
847
795:1
630
165:1
624
171:1
1355:1
1108
247:1
1028
327:1
493
788:4
637
151:4
598
190:4
6
331
529:3
394
135:3
409
120:3
7
347
555:1
438
117:1
434
121:1
586
937:3
631
306:3 720
217:3
566
905:3 659
246:3
667
238:3
574
918:2
690
228:2
698
220:2
II
639
1022:2
794
228:2
781
241:2
[2
453
724:4
538
186:4
531
193:4
13
14
IS
16
17
18
19-
og at 6 7∞ a
440
704:0
511
193:0
531
173:0
533
852:4
602
250:4
650
202:4
556
889:3
598
291:3
675
214:0
481
769:3 501
268:3
567
202:3
606
969:3
688
281:3
729
240:3
427
683:1
473
210:1
534
149:1
604
966:2 704
26212
749
217:2
20
394
630:2
469
161:2
476
154:2
21
434
694:2
478
216:2
520
174:2
22
501:
801:3
538
263:3
580
221:3
23
372
595:1
399
196:1
448
147:1
24
547
875:1
631
244: I
638
237:1
fot. Gr. 12106
Eng. 19369.3 14144
5225:3
14704
4665:3
{ 201
a referve partly neceffary to guard against cavil, the balance in
point of Brevity or Concifenefs is largely, unequivocally, and
decifively in favour of the Moderns.
Q. E. D.
VIRGI L.
The

90
86
7
70
8
9
IO
109
67
77
Latin
Hexameter.
5
2 3 4 SO ZOO a
6
I Eclogue 84 equivalent to 134:2
73
III
63
English
Dryden.
Warton.
Heroics.
Tranfl. fhorter
Tranil. fhorter
112 by 22:2
106 by 28:2
116:4
108
8:4
92
24:4
177:3
172
5:3
160
17:3
100:4
78
22:4
72
28:4
144:
143
1:
104
40:
137:3
125
12:3
I10
27:3
II2:
100
12:
72
40:
174:2
160
14:2
144
30:2
107:1
95
12:1
82
25:1
123:1
114
9:1
104
19:1
Tot. Ecl. 830 equival. to 1328:0
1207 121:0
1046 282:0
Dryden.
Warton.
234
1 Georgic 514
542
822:2
693
129:2
601 221:2
867:1
794
73:1
666
201:1
566
905:3
844
61;3
684
221:3
566
905:3
818
87:3
65.6
249:3
Tot. Geo. 2188 equivalent to 3500:4
3149 351:4
2607
893:4
Dryden.
Pitt.
I Æneid 756
1209:3
1065 144:3
1026 183:3
2345 7∞ a
804
718
1286:2
1094
192:2
1084
202:2
1148:4
944
20454
979
169:4
705
1128:
ΙΟΙΟ
118:
IO17
III:
871
1393:3
1136
257:3
II 31
262:3
6
901
1441:3
1247
194:3
1286
155:3
817
1307:1
1113
194: I
1050
257:1
8
731
1169:3
977
192:3
997
172:3
818
1308:4
1106
202:4
IIII 197:4
ΙΟ
908
1452:4
1313
139:4 1293
159:4
II
915
1464:
1318
12
952
1523:1
1377
146: 1276 188:
146:1 1348 175:1
Total En. 9896 equival. to 15833:3
13700
2133:3 13598 2235:31
Ee
( 202 )
Hexameters.
The Greek Iliad contains 15683 equal to
Pope's Tranſlation in Rhyme, contains but
Shorter than the original by
Heroics. feet.
25092: 4 Engliſh
18947
18947: o verſes.
6145: 4 do.
Which, to give a more adequate idea of the difference, is 731 lines
more than all Thomfon's Seafons.
Cowper has taken 19,000 lines in blank verfe, which is alſo
fhorter than the original, by 6092 lines and 4 feet. Both ver-
fions, have very juſtly their admirers; but it is worthy of remark,
notwithſtanding all the boaſted advantages of blank verfe, and all
the lamented difficulties and reſtraints to which the man of rhyme
is fubject, Pope on the fcale of brevity, has the advantage of
his rival. The fame, in a yet higher degree, will be feen, on
comparing their verfions of the Odyffey. The original contains
12,106 Hexameters, which precifely covers 19,369 English Heroics
and 3 feet, to a fraction; Pope's Rhyme 14,144, which is 5225:3
within the limits: Cowper's Blank Verſe 14,704, i. e. 4665:3
more conciſe than the Greek, yet longer by 560 lines than Pope's
Tranflation, which proportioned to the original, is nearly on a
par with his Verfion of the Iliad.
To take the queflion up in another light: fuppofe the whole Iliad
in Greek, and Pope's Tranflation feverally fet to mufic, limiting the
bars to the metre, and the number of notes in each bar to the
number of fyllables in the correfponding poetic foot, both in the
original and tranſlation refpectively; a crotchet to a ſyllable of a
long quantity, and to the fhort, a quaver; every note, crotchet
for crotchet, and quaver for quaver, mutually telling as its fellow.
Homer in his own tongue would put the compofer to the expence
of 92,187 quavers, or 30,729 bars, of three quavers to a bar,
more than his tranſlator: an exceſs that would coſt an expert bow-
hand nine hours, fans intermiffion, to get over. And fuppofing
him from twelve years of age, employed every day, Sundays in-
cluded at the fame rate, till fixty, he muft fpend no lefs than eighteen
folid years... fiddling!!! What in a fimilar predicament would
become of your unfortunate declaimer, who would not only have
gramatic flops and rhetoric paufes, but alſo the intercallery
graces of hum and haw to impede him?
Warton and Pitt's Virgil, Eclogues, Georgics and the Æneid,
taken in the aggregate, is 805 lines or verfes fhorter than Dryden's,
which
( 203 )
which nevertheleſs on our ſcale of adjuſtment, is 2606 verſes and
two feet more concife than the original, though more diffuſe than
Pope's Homer, which may be as well owing to the peculiar man-
ner of the different writers as to the languages, or both.
But
we have a tranſlation of Virgil extant in English, line for line,
which on the fame ſcale, in the inverse ratio of 24 to 15, is to
the grofs amount of 4842 verfes more concife than the Roman ;
which converted into Hudibraftics would nearly equal the whole
of Butler's chivalrous Poem of that name. Some over-hally judges
in their partiality for Virgil, and many more would-be-thought
judges over-partial to themfelves, may look upon a verfion fo
circumftanced with contempt; this is not a competition of writers
but of languages, confined to a particular point; if with a corps
of 8072 light infantry, for on the fcale of equalization to no
more does that tranſlation amount, the genius of the Engliſh
tongue can keep the field againſt the genius of the Latin, at the
head of 12,914 felect troops, though the latter make the more
gaudy appearance, our English battalions must be by ſo much
the more compact than their opponents, and individually furpafs
them in capacity and flrength. The faults which may poffibly
be objected to our tranſlator of that admirable Poet, cannot by
the fondeft advocate for Latinity, be urged againſt Milton, who
for the greatnefs of his fubject, fublimity and copioufnels of in-
vention, and the aptitude, ftrength and harmony of his numbers,
is by no writer furpaffed. The Latin verfion of Paradife Loft,
by Mr. Dobfon, Fellow of New-College, Oxford, is incontro-
vertibly a performance of claffical excellence, yet with all the
advantages of that language, it extends to a greater number of
lines than the English; on the whole, allowing for the
greater latitude of the Hexameter, 6486 Miltonic verſes; which,
to the honour of English concifenefs, admitting Milton to have
underſtood and fully expreffed his own meaning, is clearly a fuper-
fluity, in the language of Ovid, Vox et preterea nihil.
Dobfon's Latin Verfion is as cloſe as the idioms of the lan-
guages will well admit, yet, incredible as it may ſeem, the ex-
cefs incurred, is little, if any thing, fhort of all the rest of our
Author's original Poems in Engliſh, put together. Paradife
Regained, Samfon Agonistes, Comus, L'Allegro, Il Penferofo,
Arcades and Lycidas contain 5482 veifes, and on a curfory view,
his other Poems on feveral occafions, I think, would fcarcely
count Ice4; fum total, 6486 verfes; the precife difference al-
ready mentioned, by which the Latin metre exceeds the English of
Paradife
(204)
Paradife Loft. If this is not fufficiently explicit, read them by
a ftop-watch, the Latin will take up by ſo much a longer time
in pronouncing; fet them feverally to mufic, the Latin will re-
require a proportionally longer time in performance; write them
down ſeparately, the Latin in the fame character will cover more
paper, and fo of the reft. If there be any other way of afcer-
taining the comparative length or concifenefs of languages, in
contradiction to what I have attempted, I am out in my arith-
metic, and begging the courteous Reader's pardon, muft con-
fole myſelf with the amufement it has afforded me in my lonely
hours for my pains.
Be it however ftill remembered, I am not entering into the
merits of compofition, or prefuming to dictate in matters of
tafte. De Guftibus non eft difputandum. But with perhaps fome-
what more of attention, and I truft, a laudable predilection for
native habits and our mother tongue, "in what he counfels and
in what excels," I am combating a popular error, reducible to a
numeral proceſs, which though under my own eye, may not be
wholly faultlefs, and is now fubmitted to correction.
THE REVEREND MR. SPENCE,
I HAVE
IH
ON SCHOOL EDUCATION.
HAVE long, (fays Mr. SPENCE, in his POLYMETIS) ſuſpected,
that the method of education, which is followed now, and has
been followed for fo many ages, in our ſchools, is chiefly founded
on a miſtake. What I have to ſay on this head, may ſeem per-
haps very conjectural to you; however I will give it you, fuch
as it is. The fchool education among the Romans of old, aimed
no farther than at two languages; and each of thoſe a living lan-
guage.
Their own; for converſation, for reading, and for ſpeak-
ing in public: And Greek, that of their nearest neighbours; and
of neighbours too, who had been for fome time in the chief poffeffion of
the arts and Sciences. In teaching their own language the Romans
rade ufe chiefly of their poets; and with very good reafon: for
the thing to be taught at firft was the right pronunciation; and
how could they fix the proper tones of the words, and the true
quantities of their fyllables, but from the works of their poets?
When the Romans had advanced their conquests pretty far in our
ifland,
( 205 )
1
ífland, our anceſtors, (wifer, perhaps, in this than we may be)
fell with a ſurpriſing readineſs into the cuftoms of the conquerors;
ftudied their language; and, probably adopted their method of
ſchool education: for they had ſcarcely before any common ſchools
of their own. It might be right enough then to comply with
the politics of AGRICOLA; and to be as ready to learn the cuf-
toms of the Romans, as they were to teach them: And, indeed,
while the Roman Dominion lafted here, the most prudent of the
old Britons were probably the moſt earneſt ſtudents of their times.
It was then politic to ftudy Latin and Greek; Latin, as necef-
fary to enable them to converſe with their masters; and Greek,
as a language, ſo much in vogue with the fame. Without the
former, at lealt, they could not make their court to the conquer-
ors; nor get them felves advanced to any poft of credit in their
own country. It was this, I imagine, which made the Roman
method of education take fo much among us: And, the intro-
ducing, and following of it for fome time, was as prudent as it
was neceffary. But after the Romans found it not worth the
while to maintain their conquefts in this ifland, and at laſt quite
deferted it, the Britons of that age might be as wrong in conti-
nuing their method of education, as thofe of the former were in
receiving it. However, as it was then in poffeffion, and had been
for three centuries, it feems to have been continued without con-
fidering that there were not the fame reafons for it; and fo to
have been handed on, without any confiderable interruptions,
quite down to our days. All this while, though the custom has
fo much antiquity to plead for it, and has been preferved with
much uniformity for fo many ages, I know not whether we are
obliged to our anceſtors for handing it down to us fo regularly or
not. Might not one very fairly aſk fome difficult queftions in re-
lation to it? Would it not have been better for us, when we are
young, to be inftructed thoroughly in our own language, than in
any dead language whatever? Is a minifter now to preach, or
a lawyer to plead, or a gentleman in parliament to ſpeak in Latin?
Yet, in our fchools, we are to this day inftructed to write themes, and
to make orations, in the language of the Romans; with almoll a
total neglect of that, which I think is the mol neceffary for us,
not only in converfation but in almoſt all the bulinefs of life.
This it is that has made me often think, that the fchool educa-
tion in uſe at prefent among us is founded on a blunder: Such
a fort of blunder, for infance, as that of fome chriſtian churches,
1
in
( 206 )
in continuing the ufe of the Latin tongue in all their public de-
votions for fo many ages, fince that language has ceaſed to be
generally underſtood among them. But granting that there were
no mistake in the prefent cafe; and fuppofing, that the very wiſeſt
aim for our ſchool education now, is that which is ſo generally
in faſhion; I ſhould ſtill be apt to imagine, that we are wrong
in the methods moft ufually taken to purfue the end which is
propofed. If the general defign of our ſchools ſhould be that of
teaching us to underſtand, what the Latin and Greek authors
have faid in their writings, why then are we led fo much into
the fhades, that the modern commentators have caft around them?
-Why are we ſo often obliged to fix hundreds of their lines in
order, one after another, in our heads; and taught to repeat
whole books of HOMER and VIRGIL, by rote ?-Why are we
plunged fo much oftener in the works of the ancient poets, than
in thoſe of their hiftorians? And why is every boy, fet to write
things, that are called Latin verfes; and obliged to endeavour at
becoming a poet in a foreign tongue? Why muſt we in ſome
ſchools be taught to ſpeak, and in all obliged to write, in lan-
guages that have been dead for fo many centuries?-And, why
muft all the youth at our ſchools (however different their geniuses
are, or whatever they are defigned for in life) be all inſtructed
in the very fame things, and pretty nearly in the very fame track?
POLYMETIS, FOLIO, MDCCXLVII. p. 287.
M
་་་
PARAPHRASE
ON THE
REV. DR. WATTS'S CELEBRATED DISTICH,
ON THE
STUDY OF LANGUAGE S.
« LET every foreign tongue alone
"Till you can ſpell and read your own."
With equal juftice, fenfe and truth,
So fays the guide and friend of youth:
For
( 207 )
1
For ignorant in that, 'tis plain,
Your boaft of literature is vain ;
But make your own your first concern,
All others you may quickly learn;
And thus with minds prepar'd and free,
Their beauties tafte, their idioms fee.
Pedants may flout and keep a pother
About this language, and the other,
And ſwear that none can write or ſpeak,
Who have not Latin learn'd and Greek :
He of all judgment is depriv'd,
• Who knows not whence a word's deriv'd,
And every Briton willy nilly,
Muft dig good English out of LILLY.'
Theſe are vague notions fofter'd long,
Crude in their birth, in practice wrong;
Like many more of ancient date,
Wifely reformed or obfolete.
Thouſands, 'tis true, the courſe have run,
Which reafon would have bid them fhun:
'Tis common fenſe and good in law,
To furnish brick we fhould have ftraw;
But by the myllic code of ſchools
There's neither ftraw allow'd nor tools;
And years of pain, and learning's ftock,
Begin and end in—Hic, hæc, hoc !!!
What charms are there, in ſenſe or found,
Of fuch intrinfic merit found,
That, not thro' prejudice to err,
Terms of our own we mayn't prefer?
And juſt as well the purport fit,
With OXFORD writing,-He, she, it?
Or do they more in church or ſtate
Improve difcourfe, or point debate?
Poor boys in training, it appears,
Condemn'd to wafte their tender years
On exerciſes, which conduce
To little or no real ufe,
Seem to perpetuate BRITAIN'S doom,
To groan beneath the yoke of ROME.
ROME
(208)
).
ROME that abandon'd us in need.
Still o'er our judgment takes the lead;
We ſcout her eagles with difdain,
The fafces ftill ufurp domain;
Still, of court influence tho' bereft,
In ſchools the badge of flavery's left,
And intereſt ſtill, or affectation,
Warps the free fpirit of the nation;
Tho' richer proſpects court our view,
Than ever GREEK OF ROMAN knew..
All muſt be through the claffics led,
Before the horn-book well they've read ;
A more oppreffive taſk in fact
Than ÆGYPT's tyrant durft exact,
Which genius in the cradle cramps,
And all her generous efforts damps;
But in your native language ſkill'd,
You on a fure foundation build;
The edifice will rife fublime,
In perfect order, place and time.
There, and there only fhould commence
The path to knowlege, wit and fenfe;
For there the young ingenuous mind,
The road to excellence will find,
And in the flowery walks of fcience,
May bid difgraceful birch defiance;
But who, a novice there, afpires,
Muft work his way through thorns and briars,
And when the craggy ſteeps are paſt,
May ſkulk a uſeleſs drone at laſt ;
Nay, tho' he get A. B. at College,
Be topt of his degree in knowlege.
Then cultivate your native foil,
The harveſt will repay your toil;
And be it every Parent's care,
To plant the feeds of goodness there.
WHYTE'S POEMS, 4th Edit. p. 224.
( 209 )
THE petty ambition of pretending to fuperior ſkill, in other
languages, feems aptly and not unpleaſantly ridiculed in the fol-
lowing anecdote:
One of our modern modifhly-bred ladies, boafting of her pro-
ficiency in the French tongue, afferted fhe underſtood and ſpoke
it better than ſhe did English; and, for the truth, appealed to
a French lady in company. The adroit Parifian very candidly
and pertinently replied, O, my dear Madam! I am not fuf-
ficiently acquainted with the English to be judge; but I
fhould think it make me no compliment to fay, I ſpeak any
language half fo muſh better as my own.'
6
4
66
MONSIEUR ROLLIN,
AN ENTHUSIAST FOR LATIN AND GREEK, PREVIOUSLY
RECOMMENDS THE STUDY OF THE
VERNACULAR TONGUE.
THE Romans have taught us," fays the pious, learned
and justly-celebrated profeffor, "by the application they made
to the ſtudy of their own language, what we fhould do for the
attainment of ours; with them children were habituated to a
purity of ſpeech from the cradle. This was looked upon as
the firſt and moſt effential care next to that of their morals;
and was particularly recommended to mothers, nurſes and fer-
vants. They were adviſed to be upon their guard, as much as
poffible, not to let any bad expreflion or falfe pronunciation ef-
cape them in prefence of children; left thofe first impreffions
fhould become a kind of fecond nature in them, which it might
be afterwards almoft impoffible to amend."
"It were well if we took the fame care to perfect our-
felves in our mother tongue. There are few who underſtand it by
rule. The fpeaking of it is thought fufficient to make us excel
in it; and it is feldom that any one applies himſelf to ftudy the
genius, and acquire the delicacies of it. Nay, very often the
moſt common rudiments of it are not known, as is often feen in
the letters of men of very great abilities."
"As the firft elements of fpeech are in a degree the fame in
all languages, it is natural to begin the inftruction of youth
F f
with
( 210 )
with the rules of the grammar of their own tongue; the prin-
ciples of which will ferve alfo for Latin and Greek; and will
appear far lefs difficult and difcouraging, as there will be
little more to do than to make them range in a certain order
fuch things as they already know, though fomewhat confufedly."
Rollin's Belles Lettres, vol. 1.
DR. CAMP BEL L,
A REVEREND AND LEARNED CLERGYMAN OF THE ESTABLISHED
CHURCH, NOT A SCHOOLMASTER, SPEAKING OF A
'
IT
WRITER'S STYLE, OBSERVES:
It is difficult for men very converfant in any language to
difentangle themſelves from its ftru&ture and arrangement;
and therefore it may, at this day, be doubted whether much
reading of Latin be very promotive of purity in the English
phrafeology. MILTON'S Hiftory of England affords a ſtrong
prefumption for this doubt; for we may obſerve in it throughout,
that the ſtructure of the periods, and the arrangement of the
words are ſo cloſe to the idiom of that language, a ſchool-boy
might tranflate it into tolerable Latin.”
Stri&ures on the Ecclefiaftical Hiftory of Ireland, &c. page 146.
DR. JOHNSON
TAKES UP THE QUESTION OF A PREVAILING ATTENTION TO
FOREIGN TONGUES, AND HIS OPINION IS DECISIVE.
THERE is another caufe of alteration more prevalent than
any other, which yet in the preſent ſtate of the world cannot be
obviated. A mixture of two languages will produce a third diftinct
from both, and they will always be mixed, where the chief part of
education, and the moſt confpicuous accompliſhment, is ſkill in
ancient or in foreign tongues. He that has long cultivated ano-
ther language, will find its words and combinations crowd upon
his
1
( 211 )
his memory; and hafte and negligence, refinement and affecta-
tion, will obtrude borrowed terms and exotick expreffions.
"The great peft of ſpeech is frequency of tranflation. No book
was ever turned from one language into another, without impart-
ing fomething of its native idiom; this is the moft mifchievous
and comprehenfive innovation; fingle words may enter by thou-
fands, and the fabrick of the tongue continue the fame; but
new phrafeology changes much at once; it alters not the ſingle
ftones of the building, but the order of the columns. If an aca-
demy ſhould be eſtabliſhed for the cultivation of our ſtyle, which
I, who can never wish to fee dependance multiplied, hope the
fpirit of English liberty will hinder or deftroy, let them, inſtead
of compiling grammars and dictionaries, endeavour with all their
influence, to ftop the licence of tranſlators, whofe idleneſs and
ignorance, if it be fuffered to proceed, will reduce us to babble
a dialect of France.
"If the changes that we fear be thus irreſiſtible, what remains
but to acquiefce with filence, as in the other infurmountable dif-
treffes of humanity? It remains that we retard what we cannot
repel, that we palliate what we cannot cure. Life may be length-
ened by care, though death cannot be ultimately defeated:
tongues, like governments, have a natural tendency to degene-
ration; we have long preferved our conftitution, let us make
fome ſtruggles for our language."
EPIGRAM,
ON A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN'S ENTERING THE HOUSE JUST
AS A LONG-WINDED SPEECHIFIER CLOSED HIS
INFLAMMATORY HARANGUE.
TURGESIUS had gabbled himſelf out of breath;
"A nick!' cries Laconic, I'm in at the death.'
JUVENAL'S
10
( 212 )
JUVENAL'S
STATE OF THE
LEARNED.
SATIRE VII.
ALTERED FROM DRYDEN,
THROUGH every ſtage of ever-varying life
Man to vexation is expoſed and ſtrife;
But, oh! what ftock of patience wants the fool,
Who waftes his time and lungs in teaching ſchool?
To hear the babbling of untoward boys,
Conning trite forms, on miſchief bent and noiſe!
Sitting or ftanding, ſtill confin'd to roar,
In one dull round, the fame thing o'er and o'er :
Prelecting ftill, enforcing and expounding;
Their unſuſceptive ears ftill all confounding :
What part of ſpeech, declenfion, number, cafe,
Mood, tenfe, voice, perſon, government and place?
Themes to diſcuſs, epiftles to indite,
Accompts to fhine in, and with grace to write;
The world's extenfive volume, old and new,
With Scientific maſtery to view;
Hiftoric lore, and chronologic too;
Then to pronounce the various works of wit,
With found difcretion, and with action fit;
All aim at thefe: but at the quarter-day,
<
The parent grumbles, and is loath to pay.
Pay, Sir! for what? The boy knows nothing more,
The fix months paſt, than what he knew before :'-
Taught or untaught, dunces are ſtill the fame :
But what of that? the maſter's ftill to blame;
Without exception, though each ſingle boy
In open ſchool his utmoſt care employ ;
Tho' hours on hours, day after day, he has tried
With ſhame to check, or ſtimulate with pride;
Encourag'd, threaten'd, reaſon'd, footh'd, careſs'd,
To roufe the latent ſpark within his breaſt,
Defeated and perplex'd, 'till his parch'd tongue
With theer fatigue has to his palate clung.
}
The
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The murder'd mafter cries, would parents hear
But half the ftuff that I am doom'd to bear,
For that revenge I'd quit the whole arrear
But, if my friendly counſel might be us'd,
In purfe and fame egregiously abus'd,
Such barren foil let not the learned try,
But to more grateful occupations fly:
The meanest trade, the fpade and pick-ax take,
Rather the ſweltering hod your option make.
More to be envied, eafier and more fure,
The drudge's dole, who plies from door to door,
Than his, who, counting on his hard-earn'd gains,
Reaps ſuch a ſorry harveſt for his pains.
Mufic and dancing lavishly are bought;
Thoſe youth are long and fedulouſly taught;
But fenfe and learning deem'd not worth a groat.*
Whate'er connects with luxury and ſhow,
Largely on that our prodigals beftow;
Capacious palaces and villas, grac'd
With all the wild extravagance of taſte;
Exotics nurs'd with counterfeited fun,
And whole eftates to pleaſure gardens run;
Courfers of blood, and matchlefs in the race,
Train'd to the turf, or deftin'd to the chace ;
Expenfive fervices of curious plate;
Suites of domeftics, carriages of ſtate,
And troops of DUNS announce them wife and great.
But, tho' fuperb the manſion be or not,
The cook and cellar never are forgot;
And, nought to riſk in ſerious matters, here
Talents and breeding muft be made appear:
In fcorn of character, of time and health,
The table groans with the parade of wealth;
Here rich and poor, of high and low degree,
Strain all alike, and fcorn oeconomy.
CLAUDIUS, to faſhion and his taſte a dupe,
Rags half an ox in a turrene of ſoup;
But more, if poffible, profufion fhines
In wild variety of coftly wines:
Yet, 'midft this waſteful riot, there accrues
A thrifty pittance for Quintilian's dues;
1
}
}
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For,
( 214 )
For, to breed up the heir to common ſenſe,
Is ever more the parent's leaft expence.
From whence then, comes Quintilian's vaft eftate?
No doubt he was the darling ſon of fate ;
And, out of mere caprice, luck made him great.'
Urge not in precedent one fingle man,
As rare as a white crow or fable ſwan;
Some friendly ſtars exerted all their power,
And fmiled propitious on his natal hour;
To them, not merit his fucceſs was due ;
For fortune never was to merit true;
And they who draw from fortune's ample fource,
Are good and wife, and all things elfe of courfe:
'Tis ſhe that flings the die; and as the flings,
Of kings makes pedants, and of pedants, kings.
Moft mafters execrate the barren chair;
Like him who hang'd himſelf through mere deſpair
And poverty; or him, whom CAIUS fent,
For liberty of fpeech, to banishment.
Even SOCRATES, ungrateful ATHENS fees
In want, and fentenced by unjuft decrees.*
*
In peace, ye fhades of our forefathers! reſt
No heavy earth your facred bones moleſt:
Eternal fpring, and rifing flowers adorn
The relics of each venerable urn,
Who pious reverence their preceptors paid,
As parents honour'd, and as gods obey'd.
ACHILLES, grown in ftature, feared the rod,
And food corrected at the Centaur's nod;
In ufeful learning did his years employ,
And all the hero promifed in the boy.
The fcene's much alter'd in our modern fchools,
For, blind the parent, every Tony rules:
And malers but mere cyphers prove and tools.
Young Sulky, by his tutor once reprov'd,
Swell'd with revenge, and fwore he'd be remov'd;
And, lo! a miracle! to make it good,
A bottle of red ink is turn'd to blood;
He fmears his fhirt, and Abigail, his friend,
Alarms mama, and fo he gains his end;
}
}
And
(215)
And every tattling goffip thro' the nation
Brands the fell tyrant's name, and blafts his reputation.*
Go aſk what fruit PALEMON's pains produce,
And how he's paid? Why amply-in abufe:
And, tho' approv'd his care, confefs'd his toil,
They hardly claim one fupercilious fmile:
Some ten days over, or perchance a ſcore,
He's pafs'd unnotic'd, and is known no more.
As to his profits, tho' confin'd and bare,
Yet even of thoſe the ufhers must have fhare:
Befides, the rents and fervants must be paid;
And thus of little ftill a lefs is made.
Yet, in the bargain, every fly device
Is tried, to fcrew out fomething of the ftated price:
And, after chaffering as with porters, ftill,
Dear generous fouls! they tax the quarter's bill:
If not contented, take your bill away;
• Commence your fuit, and try the law's delay;'
Or, acquiefcing to avoid the fuit,
They bleed your purfe and character to boot.
But who the dues curtail, and thus protract,
Moſt from the abject pedagogue exact.
• Be fure you perfect him in grammar rules,
And all the beſt hiftorians read in ſchools ;
The authors; every poet to a hair;
• I, as your own, commit him to your care;
Your daily pains, befeech you, to employ,
To form the future conduct of my boy,
• And work him, like a waxen babe, with art,
• To perfect fymmetry in every part;
His principles and morals ftrictly guide;
Spare no expence, but all his wants provide:
He always fhow'd a generous, docile fpirit;
Is tender, gentle, and you'll find has merit.
• Be, Sir! his better parent; and beware
No improprieties his health impair.
This be your taſk'-and literally purfu'd,
The great reward is—BLACK INGRATITUDE! !
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i
Line 49.
An opulent citizen of Athens, applying to the philofopher
ARISTIPPUS, defired to know, what he ſhould give him to inftruct his fon?
A thouſand drachmas,' replied ARISTIPPUS (about 321. 58. rod. fter.);
How faid the Athenian, I could purchaſe a flave with that money.'
'Do fo,' faid the philofopher, "and thou shalt have two;' giving him to un-
derſtand, that his fon would have the manners and vices of a flave, if he
did not afford him the means of a liberal education.-ASCHAM, Queen
ELIZABETH's preceptor, has the following remarkable paffage, to the like
effe&. Pity it is,' fays he, that commonly more care is had, yea, and
that among men deemed wife, to find out rather a cunning man for their
horſes, than a cunning man for their children. They fay nay, in words,
but they do fo in deed; for, to one they will give a ftipend of two hundred
¿ crowns by the year, and loath to offer the other two hundred fhillings:
God, that fitteth in heaven, laugheth their choice to fcorn, and reward-
eth their liberality accordingly; for he ſuffereth them to have tame and
< well-ordered horfes, but wild and unfortunate children; and, therefore,
in the end, they find more pleaſure in their horfes, than comfort in their
< children.'
•
Line 95. THRASYMACHUS, born at Carthage, and SECUNDUS CARRINAS,
both profeffors of Greek, the firft at Athens, the other at Rome, are the
characters alluded to.
SOCRATES, the most exalted character antiquity, and perhaps human
nature has to boaſt of, taught at Athens; his virtue proved his deſtruction!
-Being condemned to die, he wanted wherewithal to pay for the juice of
hemlock which he was fentenced to drink, and was reduced to the neceffity
of applying to one of his friends, for money to defray the expence of the
poifoned chalice, and diſcharge the jailor's fees.
Line 108 See, She Stoops to Conquer, a Comedy by GOLDSMITH: a
modern alluſion, and a recent fact are here ſubſtituted, in place of thoſe
in the original, to the fame purport, but at this day rather obfolete.
This curious, felf-willed, felf-directed genius was, from this notable ex-
ertion of ingenuity, fucceffively, in every ftage of his life, inftrumental to
his own undoing; he ſpeedily got through a handfome patrimony, and was
not very long ago in a menial ſtation under the late Alderman Jenkin, and
at laſt dwindled to a commmon labourer in a brickfield! !
It is truly fhameful and a reproach to common fenfe to hear the com-
plaints of the expenſiveneſs of Education, equally unfounded as unrcafonable;
the fopperies indeed of Education are fufficiently expenfive, and the ne-
ceffaries of life, diet, lodging, waſhing and clothes, in thefe hard times no
lefs felt by teachers than parents, for which there is no compenfation, can-
not in any cafe be charged to the account of Literature; which, inde-
pendent of its utility, is indifputably the CHEAPEST article in the way of
purchaſe. The beſt School Education that can be procured, books, &c,
included, feldom ftands the parent altogether in fifty Guineas, difburfed in-
a courſe of years, by petty inftalments; for the moſt part fcarcely a moiety
of that fum, and not one half of that, deducting the acceffary and certain
expenſes of rent, ufhers, fervants, repairs, &c. &c, accrues to the teacher
for years of fatigue, anxiety, and diſappointment. O! wonderful encou
ragement to Letters!!
•


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