GENUINE LETTERS FROM A GENTLEMAN TO A YOUNG LADY HIS PUPIL. CALCULATED To form the TASTE, regulate the JUDGMENT, and improve the MORALS. WRITTEN SOME YEARS SINCE. Now firſt reviſed and publiſhed with NOTES and ILLUSTRATIONS, By THOMAS HULL, Of the THEATRE ROYAL, in COVENT-GARDEN.
VOL. II.
LONDON: Printed for J. BELL, near Exeter Exchange, Strand, and C. ETHERINGTON, at York. MDCCLXXII.
IN this Letter I ſhall give you ſome Remarks on only one Book of the Odyſſey, namely, the Seventh.
Verſe 21 and 22, contain a very juſt Obſervation on the Temper of a Mob, [2] and that too perhaps, in all Countries and all Ages.
Is the Epithet rude, which is applied to the Phoeacians, Verſe 55, entirely re⯑concileable to the Character given of them at Verſe 12, in the laſt Book?
From Verſe 110 to 175, is a moſt charming Deſcription of the Palace and Garden of Alcinous. Does it not appear to you that Ovid has borrowed the De⯑ſcription of the Palace of the Sun, in the ſecond Book of his Metamorphoſes, from this Place?
Verſe 224. Here is a Paſſage very ex⯑preſſive of that Hoſpitality you have re⯑marked and admired so much.
[3]From Verſe 265 to 275, we have a great Reſemblance to the Holy Scrip⯑tures. One of the Apoſtles commands us ‘to relieve Strangers, in-as-much as ſuch have entertained Angels.’ We ſee it was ſo with Lot, Abraham, Ja⯑cob, &c. and further it is ſaid, that God converſed with Moſes, Face to Face, as a Man does with his Friend.
At Verſe 295, are the two Lines with which the Critics have found great Fault in the Tranſlation, as being too mean. The Expreſſion, "craving Bowels," is rather beneath Mr. Pope's uſual Style. ‘Ver. 370. All Night I ſlept oblivious of my Care.’ Methinks forgetful of my Care, would, from its Simplicity, have ſuited the Sub⯑ject better.
[4]I have done with this Book, ſo ſhall releaſe you from Criticiſms at preſent, and change to another Subject, in which I would recommend a little of that Hoſ⯑pitality we ſo admire in the Antients. I deſire, nay inſiſt, that you will prepare a little genial Board for your Birth-Day, as I ſhall do. Invite your Mama, your Aunt, and any other Friend you like; and I beg you will not ſuffer any thing to be abridged, on this Occaſion, to ſave a few Shillings. I know your Turn for Oeconomy, but remit the Strictneſs of it for once. Beſides the Pleaſure it brings, it may anſwer ſome uſeful Ends. It will give you an Opportunity to ſhew your own Addreſs, as Miſtreſs of the Feaſt, diſplay your Reſpect to your Pa⯑rents in an amiable Light, and, at the [5] ſame Time, gratify your affectionate Sen⯑ſations. I am a Friend to little Indul⯑gencies of this Kind, when confined within proper Reſtrictions, and not too often repeated. Thus directed, they come within the Compaſs of Virtue, other⯑wiſe they extend to Profuſion.
Pray do as I deſire; ſo wiſhing you many happy Birth-Days,
I Hope this will be delivered into your Hands to-morrow, being your Birth-Day, when you are with your Friends, or preparing to be with them. I wiſh you many ſuch Days, and that they may be happy. Give my humble Service to all that are with you when this comes to Hand, or that are to be with you in the Evening.
I went to the Inn myſelf yeſternight, and gave Mrs. Bew very peremptory Di⯑rections about your Box, ſo I hope you will receive it ſafe.
[7]You are now entering into a new Year of your Life. The beſt Advice I can give you, is to be thankful to God for the paſt, and ſhew your Gratitude by uſing the coming Year well. As you are going to be chearful with your Friends, I will not detain you long.
You have read of Pacolet's wooden Horſe, who, on turning a Pin, flew through the Air with his Rider, and went a great Journey in a few Moments. I could wiſh for ſuch an Horſe to-morrow Night, and after ſpending four or five Hours with you, to mount and come back here; but as ſuch a Wiſh is vain, I muſt even be content to want that Pleaſure, and within two or three Weeks make uſe of a wooden Coach, inſtead of [8] a wooden Horſe, and travel over Land, inſtead of flying through the Air.
I hope you will ſpare ſo much Time to-morrow Evening as to write me, if it is no more than two or three Lines; and in the next Letter after that, I muſt have the Hiſtory of this Evening, your Birth-Day, and Sunday. Salute your your Mama, Aunt, and Mrs. M—, with a Kiſs for me. Again I wiſh you a haypy Birth-Day, and many more; and am, my dear Ange,
P. S. Remember what I told you in my laſt. I inſiſt upon it that your Birth-Day is not kept in a poor niggardly Way. Remember, I inſiſt upon it. Adieu, ma chere Petite!
HAving an Opportunity of ſending this by a private Hand, I could not omit to wiſh you all Health and Happineſs on your Birth-Day. May you [10] know your Duty to God, your Neigh⯑bour, and to yourſelf, and practiſe what you know! May you enjoy a moderate Share of the good Things of this Life, have Health of Body and Content of Mind, and then you need no more!
JUST now I received yours of the 29th, and was about to be much ſurprized that you was ſo long in anſwering all the Letters I wrote you laſt Week. I was [11] ſuddenly taken ill on your Birth-Day, and though I had engaged myſelf to paſs the Evening at a Gentleman's Chambers in Baliol College, yet I could not ſup, but after drinking your Health, and two or three ſparing Glaſſes more, I was forced to quit the Company and return home. I kept my Bed two Days, and have not been out ſince. Though ſomewhat better now, I ſtill continue ill. Pray write me ſoon again, and let me know how your Mama does. I ſhall be ſure to acquaint you how I am. I dare not venture to write farther; it is with Pain I have written this.
I have made Remarks on the eighth Odyſſey, but muſt defer them till my next.
[12]My Spirits are low. Your Letters cheer, as well as delight me.
I AM not yet quite recovered, and have been out but once, to wit, this Day*, to Chapel, it being a high Feſtival, and the Sacrament adminiſtered.
[13]I am mightily pleaſed with your Ob⯑ſervations on Rochefaucault. I ſhall make ſome few Remarks here on the 8th and 9th Odyſſey, if I can get through them; but I am doubtful of my Abi⯑lity, as I yet cannot endure much Ap⯑plication.
From the Beginning of the 8th Book, we find the great Duties that were moſt highly eſteemed in antient Times, were Prayer, Praiſes, Hoſpitality, and Sacri⯑fices, attended with Muſic.
Though the Reſentment of Ulyſſes at Verſe 183, is very juſt, yet ſurely he car⯑ries it too far.
Mr. Pope mentions the Opening of the 9th Book to have given great Joy to the [14] Critics, who wiſhed to find Fault with ſo great an Author. I wonder what provoked them. Ulyſſes only animad⯑verts on the happy State of the Phaeacians, which is extremely juſt, and by no Means inconſiſtent with Virtue. To me there⯑fore all Apologies to ſoften the Matter are entirely uſeleſs.
Verſe 46. Quaere, what is meant by the Expreſſion, a like Reward?
I am at a Loſs to know why the Tranſlator makes uſe of this Expreſſion here, the genial Rite.
The Speech of Ulyſſes to Polypheme, be⯑ginning at Verſe 307, is excellent. The laſt eight Lines are beautifully tranſlated, [15] and the Matter of them highly pious and inſtructive.
Verſe 495. I think all this fort outrée, notwithſtanding all that Mr. Pope has ſaid to make it paſs; as well as the whole Story of [...], or Noman.
By all Means let me know how your Mama and Aunt do. Write ſoon, no Mat⯑ter on what Subject. I would hear any thing from you, though ever ſo trifling. As drowning Men catch at Straws for Relief, ſo diſpirited Folks catch at Tri⯑fles for Comfort; not that your Letters can ever be ſuch to me.
I JUST now received yours of the 5th. I am ſomewhat better, but not en⯑tirely recovered.
If you chuſe Milton or Virgil for the Subject of our enſuing Correſpondence, I ſhall be pleaſed; but if you like better to write ſuch Thoughts as occur to you on any Author you happen to be reading at the Time of writing, I ſhall be very well ſatisfied. It is true there is a noble Fund in Milton and Virgil, but I would not keep you always confined to one [17] Kind of Study. The Book of Job, the Pſalms, Proverbs, Eccleſiaſtes, the Wiſ⯑dom of Solomon, and of the Son of Sirach, ſupply large and rich Funds for Obſerva⯑tions; but take your own way, and pleaſe yourſelf.
I ſhould not have written you till I had read four or five more Books of the Odyſſey, unleſs you had been impa⯑tient; and as the Poſt is juſt going out, I ſhall not add more here, nor even tranſcribe my Remarks on two Books of the Odyſſey, that are ready; ſo you will probably get five together.
I may ſee you about this Day fort⯑night, or perhaps ſooner. In the mean Time, keep yourſelf employed. Write [18] about ſomething, no Matter what. The Mind requires Exertion, and it is as liable to be diſordered through Inactivity, as the Body.
IT is worth Obſervation, that Homer every now and then ſcatters ſhort moral Reflections as he goes along: for Example, Book x. Verſe 29. ‘Rare Gift! —but oh! what Gift to Fools avails?’ [19] No Wonder indeed he is ſo pregnant with them, ſince Virtue is the great End of his Work.
The Interview between Ulyſſes and his Mother, in Hell, Book xi. Verſe 190, is exceeding fine.
At Verſe 423, we have a new Inſtance of the Hoſpitality of the Antients.
Verſe 444. In ſpite of all that is ſaid in Defence of Homer here, I cannot help thinking all this Speech very mean, and unworthy of Ulyſſes.
The Deſcription of Hercules, at Verſe 747, is very awful.
[20]I am of Opinion, that if you take the whole Account of Ulyſſes's Deſcent into Hell, and compare it with that of Aeneas in Virgil's ſixth Aeneid, you will find the former fall infinitely ſhort of the latter; than which nothing, ſure, was ever writ⯑ten with greater Maſtery of Fancy and Judgment. It is worth your while to compare them.
Now we are to leave the Phoeacians, and I cannot, for my Heart, think they were ſo worthleſs a People, as the Com⯑mentators would make them. Are they not kind, hoſpitable, and beneficent? Do they not underſtand the Arts of Sail⯑ing, Building, Gardening, Commerce, and ſo forth? All that can be ſaid againſt them, is, that they lived luxuriouſly; [21] and is there any Wonder that ſuch a happy People ſhould live ſo?
The Commentators excuſe Homer for the ſtrange improbable Stories he makes Ulyſſes tell, becauſe he tells them to an idle, credulous, vain-glorious People. But, in my Opinion, this is no Defence, at all; for as they do not contradict his Narrations, ſo it is immaterial, as to the Truth of the Stories, who he told them to.
Virgil, in my Opinion, has not only happily imitated the Story of Elpenor, in the twelfth Book of the Odyſſey, but has alſo improved upon it. Herein the Latin ſeems to have an Advantage over the Greek Poet. Homer's Elpenor was a [22] worthleſs Fellow, yet the Author treats him as a Man of great Importance. Ulyſſes firſt meets him in Hell, where there is a long Converſation between them, and, un⯑deſerving as he was, great Care is taken about his Monument; whereas Virgil's Palinurus, beſides being his chief Pilot, was a Man of Integrity and Virtue.
Verſe 210. What Reaſon can be aſſign⯑ed why Ulyſſes did not ſtop his Ears with Wax as well as the reſt? The Song of the Syrens here is admirable, and Mr. Pope has rendered it in Lines exquiſitely ſmooth and melodious.
[23]Was not this Madneſs in Ulyſſes? Yet it were Pity, had it not been; ſince it contains a noble Moral, in ſhewing us the Folly and Abſurdity of diſobeying the Commands of Heaven.
The People whom Homer devotes to Deſtruction, Verſe 420, you are to ob⯑ſerve, he firſt prepares for it, by a pro⯑fane and illicit Way of performing Sa⯑crifice. They are going to perpetrate an impious Deed, and they addreſs themſelves to it in a profane Manner. Compare this with the Sacrifices of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, and with the Of⯑ferings of Nabal and Abihu, who put unhallowed Fire into their Cenſers. See the Book of Numbers, Chap. xvi. &c. The Vengeance which overtook the Com⯑panions [24] of Ulyſſes for deſtroying, or taking to their own Uſe, what was conſecrated to Apollo, ſeems to be a general Warn⯑ing to Mankind, not to convert to pro⯑fane Uſes what has been once ſet apart for religious Purpoſes.
Book xiii. Verſe 35. Here is a fine Repreſentation of Ulyſſes, and it is much heightened by the Simile. Had you ever been in the Country at the Time of great Labour, you would be much more ſen⯑ſible of the Strength of it; but the Juſt⯑neſs ſpeaks for itſelf.
Verſe 270. I cannot but think that the Doubts of Ulyſſes, after he knew the Perſon who ſpoke to him was Pallas, are unjuſtifiable and unreaſonable.
How very like is this Sentiment to what is frequently ſaid in the Holy Scriptures! For Inſtance, ‘I will not be afraid for ten Thouſands of People, that have ſet themſelves againſt me round about.’ Pſal. iii. Ver. 6.
At Verſe 486, we have one of Homer's ſhort moral Reflections,
We now come to the fourteenth Book, one of the moſt beautiful in the whole Work. This was my Favourite when I was a Boy, and has remained ſo ever [26] ſince. Nothing can be more ſimple, na⯑tural, and affecting, than this Interview between Ulyſſes and Eumoeus. The whole indeed is ſuch a ſweet Scene of the Coun⯑try, and contains ſuch a Series of Piety and Goodneſs, as fills the Mind with inexpreſſible Delight. What an exqui⯑ſite Picture does the Poet give of Eumoeus at the Opening!
Verſe 146. How true, even to this Day, is the Obſervation which Eumoeus makes in this Place!
It appears that Homer, notwithſtand⯑ing he has a great Reſpect for the Prieſt⯑hood, [27] thought every Head, or Chief of a Family, was a ſort of Prieſt in his own Houſe, at leaſt in caſe of Neceſſity, and this many People contend for, at this Day. Even ſome very learned and pious Men maintain, that, if a Society of Men were caſt on ſome Place, where they could not have the Ordinances duly adminiſtered by a legally-admitted Cler⯑gyman, it were then lawful for a Lay⯑man to perform the ſacred Functions. Something of this Nature is the Permiſ⯑ſion which the Church of Rome gives to Midwives to baptize, in Caſes of Ne⯑ceſſity.
From God's own Hand deſcend our Joys and Woes.
Here is a Piece of Theology exactly [28] correſpondent to what many Chriſtian Divines maintain.
Verſe 510. Here follows a ſtrange Con⯑trivance to get ſome Cloaths againſt the Rigour of the Seaſon, which I cannot think altogether neceſſary, conſidering how humane an Hoſt Eumoeus is de⯑ſcribed.
Mr. Pope ſeems to differ much in Opi⯑nion from Longinus about Homer, when he wrote the Odyſſey. I cannot but join with Longinus, in thinking Homer was on the Decline. Though it is a charm⯑ing as well as inſtructive Compoſition, yet it ſeems to me to carry ſome Marks of old Age. If you have never ſeen Lon⯑ginus, I will bring one to Town. You [29] may read it in a ſhort Time. It is a ſmall Treatiſe, but admirably judicious. Recall what Pope ſays of him in his Eſſay on Criticiſm,
The Poſt is juſt come in, but not a Syllable from you, which makes it leſs welcome to me. The Duke of Hamil⯑ton is to come here on Tueſday, which will take me off from writing you any more on Homer, for ſome Time; yet [30] let not that hinder your writing, and give me every thing that occurs.
I Have now finiſhed five Books more of the Odyſſey, and my Remarks ſhall be as ſhort as I can poſſibly make them.
Book xv. Verſe 61. Here we meet another Inſtance of the great Hoſpitality of the Antients.
[31]Verſe 75, and ſome of the enſuing Lines, contain admirable Rules for good Behaviour then, for what it is now, and ever will continue. The laſt Line I al⯑lude to, namely, ‘Welcome the coming, ſpeed the parting Gueſt,’ is liberally juſt; but then the Manner of putting it in Practice ſhould be as deli⯑cate as the Precept itſelf.
Verſe 426. What Homer here obſerves of dedicating a Part of a Winter-Night to Converſation, and particularly to the Re⯑collection of paſt Afflictions, is very na⯑tural and juſt.
Verſe 450. To bend a Bow with tender Skill, appears to me a very odd Expreſſion.
[32]Book xvi. Verſe 9. What follows here is very natural and beautiful, eſpecially the Dogs playing ſo familiarly at the Re⯑turn of the Prince, whom they knew ſo well. Obſerve, their Behaviour was far different when Ulyſſes came.
Verſe 144. When Telemachus has en⯑joined Eumoeus to announce his Return to his Mother, how beautifully affecting is the Swain's Reply!
His compaſſionate Concern for the Grand-father's dejected Situation, joined to the Readineſs wherewith he undertakes to carry glad Tidings to Penelope, is the [33] Reſult of the moſt humane and benevo⯑lent Mind.
This Notion prevails among Country Peo⯑ple, at leaſt in Scotland, to this Day. They fancy the Dogs are ſenſible when a good or an evil Spirit comes into a Houſe.
Verſe 204. Ulyſſes diſcovering himſelf to his Son affords us a very fine and pleaſing Scene; yet I think it much in⯑ferior to that of Joſeph making himſelf known to his Brethren, I confeſs.
Argus, the Dog, his antient Maſter knew.
[34] What a Pack of unfeeling Wretches muſt they be, who cavilled at this In⯑cident of the faithful Dog! All that Pope ſays on it does Honour to his own Hu⯑manity and Diſcernment.
Then chaunting myſtic Lays.
The Power of curing Wounds by Charms or Incantations, is ſtill believed by many common People.
On Sunday I hope to ſend you ſome more Obſervations, and finiſh with the Odyſſey by the Time I come to Town, which perhaps will not be before Wed⯑neſday. You ſee my Remarks now come within a very ſmall Compaſs. It would be as endleſs, as unneceſſary, to animad⯑vert on every Beauty. I ſhall, at all Events, write again on Sunday, and [35] let you know, to an Hour, when I come to Town. I would certainly have come on Monday, but the Duke of Ha⯑milton does not go from this till Saturday; after that I muſt go ſee Lady Suſan Keck, the Duke's Aunt, who lives twelve Miles from this; from her I return to Oxford, and thence ſet off for London.
Do not neglect to write me. The Duke took his Degree of Doctor of Laws yeſterday; there was a vaſt Crowd, and the whole Univerſity met.—How does your Mama?
P. S. You did not write me if you wiſh to ſee Longinus. Your Mama's Letter is juſt come to Hand.
ON Sunday I received a Letter from you, of no Date, which I impute to the Hurry you were in when you wrote it. If the Duke of Hamilton had not been here, I had ſeen you before now. He went away on Saturday; I accom⯑panied him to Henley, about 18 Miles from this City, ſtayed there all Night, and returned hither on Sunday. My Viſit to Tew, the Place where his Grace's Aunt reſides, was to have been made [37] this Day, but is deferred till my Return from London; ſo I ſhall ſee you ſooner than I thought, and perhaps may be able to tell you the exact Time, before I ſeal this Letter.
The Duke of Hamilton has no Occa⯑ſion for the Degree of Doctor of Laws, but it is an Honour the Univerſity pays him. It is cuſtomary to confer dif⯑ferent Degrees of Honour, to thoſe who ſtudy therein. That of Batchelor of Arts, may be taken after having reſided ſo long a Time, and undergoing ſuch Examina⯑tions as are appointed. In the ſame Manner, Students may be advanced to the Degree of Maſter of Arts. After⯑wards they can be promoted to a Batche⯑lorſhip in one of the three great Profeſ⯑ſions, [38] Divinity, Law, or Phyſic; and after that they may be made Doctors in thoſe Profeſſions, according to the dif⯑ferent Studies they have purſued. But ſometimes theſe Degrees are conferred, without waiting the ordinary Time, or paſſing the Examinations, Honoris Gratiâ, that is to ſay, to do Honour to the Per⯑ſon who receives them. This was the Caſe with the Duke of Hamilton, he hav⯑ing been greatly beloved, eſteemed, and reſpected, for his Behaviour, while at this Univerſity. I hope I have now ſa⯑tisfied your Curioſity; but I had almoſt forgot to tell you that ſometimes a Doc⯑torſhip in a fourth Profeſſion is given, namely, in Muſic; but this is not held, in any wiſe, equal to the others.
[39]I have now taken my Place in the Stage-Coach for Friday next, ſo if it pleaſe God, I hope to ſee you about eight o'Clock at Night, on Saturday, at fartheſt.
I Arrived ſafe here yeſternight, between ſeven and eight, nothing having hap⯑pened worth mentioning, except that I [40] was mortified with a great deal of imper⯑tinent Chat in the Coach. We were forced to drive two Miles out of the Way to ſet down two Boys at their Mo⯑ther's Door. One Paſſenger grumbled much at it. I aſked him, whether he would not, in the Parent's Situation, wiſh for ſuch a Courteſy, at the trifling Inconvenience of a ſhort Delay to the Paſſengers, and in fine Weather? He received the Reproof in Silence, though he did not ſeem by his Looks to thank me for it. There are more ſuch unfo⯑ciable Perſons to be met, who prefer the Indulgence of their own peculiar Hu⯑mour, to any eſſential Gratification or Ser⯑vice they can beſtow on others. Poor Peo⯑ple! they are compoſed of very indifferent Principles, or have been very ill taught.
[41]I have found all my Friends here well. No Revolutions or News in our littte Society ſince I left it.
I ſhall now finiſh the Odyſſey; but as I have ſeveral Things to do and ſettle, and Letters to write, you may perhaps not hear from me again for two or three Days. As ſoon as I have finiſhed the Odyſſey, we ſhall think of ſomething elſe to furniſh out our epiſtolary Converſation. You know no Poſt goes from this Place on Saturday, nor arrives here on Mon⯑day, ſo you cannot expect a Letter from from me again till Tueſday at ſooneſt, and it may be later; yet let not that pre⯑vent your writing.
[42]At the Beginning of my Letter, I men⯑tioned impertinent Chat. I will give you one Inſtance. There was one Fel⯑low in the Coach, who told us, three Times, a long, dull, and conſequently tedious Story, of his having been at the taking of a Highwayman; but that, like a prudent Soldier, he reſerved his Fire till he had Occaſion for it. When he had told it us once, he took care to re⯑peat it as often as any new Paſſenger came into the Coach, which produced, on the whole, a third Narration. He deſcribed the Highwayman's Perſon and Dreſs, his Horſe, his own Horſe, the whole Chace, his perſonal Intrepidity, the taking, Trial, and Condemnation of the unhappy Rogue, with a Thouſand more contingent Circumſtances equally [43] important and entertaining. How na⯑tural is it to repeat, as well as to aggran⯑dize Matters, which we think may re⯑dound to our own Credit! The Story ſtill buzzes in my Ears, and haunts me like a Ghoſt; but if I dwell upon it any longer, I ſhall become as troubleſome as the Relater, ſo I break off.
JUST now I received yours, which was very acceptable. My firſt was under Cover; you'll ſee it is not franked; [44] the ſecond was ſent tout droit, which is the Reaſon why they were both delivered at once. The Story of the poor young Lady makes me melancholy.
I informed you, ſome Time ſince, that the Proverbs, Eccleſiaſticus, Eccleſiaſtes, and the Wiſdom of the Son of Sirach, would furniſh us with Materials for writing. You cannot read more profitable Books, believe me; and if you beſtow a due Share of Attention and Reflection on them, you will find them exceedingly pleaſant, as well as profitable.
Let me know if you have been with Lady W— yet. Be not too baſhful; yet withal, never loſe that graceful Modeſty, which is the greateſt Ornament of your Sex. Never give yourſelf Airs; never [45] preſs to ſhew away, as they call it. Hate and deteſt Affectation, fooliſh Pride, and Vanity. Be affable and courteous to all, be inwardly familiar with few. Neither harm nor ſpeak ill of any one, and be not concerned for Fame and Admiration.
Obſerve theſe Rules, which, though few, if well obſerved, will ſhew you to the World in that Light, wherein it is your Deſire and Intereſt to appear, with⯑out your giving yourſelf any Trouble about it.
ONCE more for the Odyſſey. I have got through three Books more, on which I have made but few Obſer⯑vations.
Book xx. Verſe 55. The Complaint of Minerva, in this Place, is analogous to that which we find ſo often made by our Saviour in the Goſpel, O ye of little Faith, &c.
Verſe 120. Ulyſſes deſiring a Sign to confirm his Faith, in this and the two [47] following Books, is exactly conformable to many Places in Scripture. The Story of Ahaz, as well as of others, will ſuf⯑ficiently prove it.
Book xxi. Verſe 10. Is it not too much affected to call Ivory, Elephant? It is done, however, in other Places as well as in this.
Verſe 274. The Suitors impute their Impotence in bending the Bow of Ulyſ⯑ſes, to their Profanation of a holy Day. Whether it was a fictitious or a real Ex⯑cuſe, it ſhews at leaſt that Irreligion was held a very atrocious Crime in Homer's Time.
Verſe 427. Ulyſſes turning and examin⯑ing the Bow, to prove if it was decayed [48] or worm-eaten, amid the Taunts of the Suitors, and his bending it, compared to a Muſician winding up the Strings of his Inſtrument, is moſt admirably fine. The Notes here are well worth reading.
Verſe 448. This is an exquiſite Com⯑pariſon. The Twang of the String, ſhort and ſharp, like the ſhrill Note of a Swal⯑low, was equally a Mark of Vigour and Addreſs.
Book xxii. Verſe 367. All that follows here, relative to Phemius and Medon, their Supplication, the Interpoſition of Tele⯑machus, and the Motives which induced Ulyſſes to ſpare them, excite both our Pity and Admiration. The Idea which Phemius gives of Poets and Poetry, is [49] one of the fineſt that can be conceived, and worthy to be imprinted on every Memory.
Verſe 425. Here is a moſt juſt and beautiful Compariſon. The Situation of the Fiſhes, ſo poetically rendered by Mr. Pope, muſt touch every compaſſionate Mind;
[50]I muſt return to Verſe 137, of this Book. Read the Note upon it, and tell me if you don't think the Caution of placing the Bow out of the Reach of the Suitors was needleſs, when none of them could bend it.
My next ſhall finiſh the Odyſſey.
I Shall in this cloſe what I have to ſay on the Odyſſey.
Book xxiii. Verſe 13. Here are four Lines which are very conſonant to what [51] we frequently meet in the holy Writings, particularly in the 19th Chapter Iſaiah; "Surely the Princes of Zoan are Fools, &c."
Verſe 81, and ſome following Lines, contain Sentiments very analogous to many in the Book of Job. It is worth your while to compare them with the following Chapters, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, which indeed are worth the moſt atten⯑tive Peruſal and Remarks.
Verſe 320. This Converſation between Ulyſſes and Penelope, how naturally beau⯑tiful! In all Degrees of Life we may hourly trace the ſame Conſequences of a long Abſence, whether between Man and Wife, or Friend and Friend. The [52] Epiſode of Mercury conducting the Souls of the Suitors to Hell, at the Opening of the 24th Book, is undoubtedly fine; though after all that can be ſaid in De⯑fence of it, to me it appears brought in (to uſe a common Phraſe) by Head and Shoulders. It ſeems as if the Poet had the Character of Achilles ſo much at Heart, that he thought it not ſufficient⯑ly compleated, without this finiſhing Stroke.
Verſe 224. Homer, you obſerve, takes every Opportunity to pay Honour to Poets and Poetry. Theſe two Lines,
and the ſix preceding, are ſo ſtrong, and at the ſame Time ſo charming an Incen⯑tive [53] to Virtue, that I cannot but think a Woman, who has a laudable Ambi⯑tion and Love of Virtue, muſt be greatly confirmed by them, in a virtuous and honourable Courſe of Life.
Verſe 249. I cannot endure Pope's bald Expreſſion of the old Man, for ſo he makes Ulysſſes ſtile his Father. In Homer it is the Father, which has undeniably much more Decorum, Reſpect, and Af⯑fection.
I have nothing further to add to what has been ſaid in the Notes on the Cloſe of this great Work. I ſhall endeavour to get you Kennel's Tranſlation of Ho⯑race's Judgment on the I [...]iad and Odyſſey. All other Tranſlations of that Paſſage are bad. His only is tolerable.
[54]I ſcarce need remark to you that Vir⯑gil copied much from Homer, particu⯑larly in the ſixth and laſt Book; but methinks it would be entertaining to compare the Paſſages of two ſuch great Poets, and two ſuch fine Tranſlators as Pope and Dryden.
I have received only one Letter from you ſince I left London, yet this is the fifth I have written to you.
THE whole Hall is gone on a Merry-making, this Day, into the Coun⯑try, except the Principal (Dr. King) and myſelf. I have therefore laid hold of this Occaſion to ſend you The Furniture of a Lady's Mind, and Extracts from another Poem, by Dr. Swift. I think them both inſtructive and pleaſing. In my laſt, you know, I encloſed ſome ſelect Paſſages from his Grizette. I tranſcribed as much of it as I thought worthy your Notice. This Author, excellent as he is, often mixes a Something very groſs, even in [56] his wittieſt Poems*. When you have read thoſe Paſſages, tell me if you do not think it a moſt judicious Diſtinction between affected and real Wit, Wit mingled with ill Manners, inſtead of that Decorum and Modeſty, which beſt becomes your Sex.
Swift did not think ſo ill of Women as he wrote. His Motives were to wean them from ſuch Faults, as he thought them moſt ſubject to. There is a good deal of Affinity between the Grizette, and the Furniture, &c. I will ſend you two or three little Poems more by the ſame Author, and ſhall be glad to have [57] your Opinion of them; I mean, when you are at Leiſure, for I do not deſire to oppreſs you.
Pray put the encloſed into the Penny-Poſt.
JUST now I have the Pleaſure of of yours. You thank me for what does not deſerve Thanks. The Picture was drawn to my Hand, and I thought [58] it a Picture worth your looking at; though I aſſure you, I had not the leaſt Idea that it reſembled you. Had I thought ſo, I ſhould not have been at ſo much Pains as to tranſcribe it, merely to mor⯑tify you. Yet your Application may turn to ſome Account: it may ſerve as a Hint or Notice to ſhew you what you are to ſhun, or as a Beacon ſet up to warn you of the Rocks and Shelves, whereon many of your Sex have been ſhipwrecked.
I now ſend you two Songs, leaving you to find out where their Value lies; and when you have wrote me your Thoughts of them, I will then let you know wherein I think their Merit conſiſts. I do not know if ever you read the Pro⯑greſs [59] of Love; if not, I will ſend it to you. You have herewith the New Ballad of New Similes.
It is really true, that Sir Alexander Mur⯑ray is dead. He died at Edinburgh, on the 18th of May.
My Compliments to your Aunt and Mama.
JUST now I received yours. Your Obſervations are very juſt. The whole Song conſiſts of a Heap of fine [60] ſmooth Words, put together either with⯑out any Meaning at all, or ending in downright Nonſenſe, after the Manner of many of our modern Love-Songs. I would have you obſerve too that there are no leſs than two Similes in ſo ſhort a Poem, which is very ordi⯑nary in our Love-Songs, though very unnatural; and, beſides that they have no Relation to the Subject, they are very abſurd in themſelves.
The other Ballad is a very ſevere Sa⯑tire on the Gentlemen of the Army. The Beauty of it conſiſts in its appear⯑ing ſo very ſerious, and being ſo exceed⯑ingly ridiculous. I beg you will par⯑ticularly obſerve the two laſt Stanzas, ſave one. Here the perſonated Officer [61] accuſes himſelf both with Cowardice and Ignorance of Letters. Mark how ri⯑diculous a Fall he makes in Stanza the third. ‘Alas! I never thought a Prieſt would pleaſe your Palate;’ This ſeems to be grave and ſerious; ob⯑ſerve what follows; ‘Beſides, I'll hold a Groat, he'll put you in a Ballad.’ How ſerious does he appear, when he ſays, ‘It fills my Heart with Woe, &c.’ and afterwards calls a Churchman being by the Ladies preferred to an Officer, "the Growth of Corruption, &c." It [62] is, all through, a moſt admirable Satire, and the Humour is exceedingly well hit off. Then it is calculated for the Tune of Patie's Mill. If you heard it ſung to that Tune, you would find it ſet off mightily; it being a ſweet com⯑plaining Scotch Tune, the Captain's Complaint, if we may ſo call it, would thereby become ſtill more ridiculous.
Charles Murray does not ſucceed to the Title, but a Son of David Murray, who was an elder Brother than Charles.
A Campaign is the Warfare of one Seaſon; and to open the Campaign, im⯑plies no more than to begin the military Operations of ſuch or ſuch a Year.
[63]When I ſend you a Production writ⯑ten with Spirit, Wit, and Judgment, either for or againſt your Sex, you are to underſtand the Contents as ſo many Hints to you, what you are to ſhun, and what you are to purſue. I have here⯑with encloſed three very, ſevere Pieces, but do not fancy I am drawing your Picture. I am only offering that to your View, from which you may diſcern Beauty from Uglineſs. The next three I ſhall ſend will be much more pleaſing; but do not be ſo vain as to imagine them intended to repreſent you neither; though I truſt you come much nearer theſe, than what I ſend you now. I ſhall give you my Sentiments of theſe three Portraits in my next.
P. S. I don't deſire you to write oftner than you like, but conſider well what you write.
Adieu!
I Suppoſe you have, before this comes to your Hand, formed a Judgment of the three Ladies I ſent to wait upon you; I mean Sylvia, Artimeſia, and Phryne. You may learn ſomething from the Con⯑verſation of the two firſt; but as for Ma⯑dam Phryne, I cannot ſay you can im⯑prove by her; and indeed, but that ſhe has a little Wit in her Converſation, I [65] had not ſent her to you at all. Sylvia is a poor Lady, who ſtruggles between Virtue and Vice, and is really not ſo bad as ſhe would appear. She has taken up a falſe Notion of the Means of recom⯑mending herſelf to the Eſteem of Man⯑kind. She thinks ill-natured Wit, Cen⯑ſure, and Raking, are the Ingredients for the Compoſition of a fine Lady, yet her Heart recoils every now and then. How many poor Women have loſt them⯑ſelves through this fooliſh Notion! There is nothing more dangerous for any Per⯑ſon, eſpecially a Woman, than to ſet up ſome wrong Quality as the diſtinguiſh⯑ing Mark of her Character. A Coward perhaps ſets up for a Bully, a chearful Woman for a Prude, or a modeſt, good-natured Girl takes it into her Head to [66] be a Termagant. Now beſides being unnatural from quitting their proper Characters, they are all alike full of Af⯑fectation, than which nothing is more deteſtable, except downright Inconti⯑nence. Artimeſia is a Prude, but a maſ⯑culine Prude; ſhe affects Learning, but neglects Decency, Cleanlineſs, and Mo⯑deſty. If I were with you, I think I could name three Perſons, with whom the Characters agree very well, though I could not tell you the exact Perſons the Poet meant.
I have herewith ſent you a fourth Character, which is not ſo bad as the former; for I think it very natural, as well as excuſable, for People, eſpecially Women, to talk of their Children, Family [67] Affairs, and ſo forth; and ſtill more ſo in Country Places, where they meet their Neighbours only now and then. Hence I think the Doctor rather too ſevere, un⯑leſs he barely meant that Women ſhould not carry this ſort of Diſcourſe to Ex⯑ceſs.
I have now ſent you five or ſix bad Characters of your Sex, to which you may add whatever you may have read beſide. Congreve furniſhes many; name⯑ly, Mrs. Fondlewife (1), Mrs. Frail (2), Mrs. Foreſight (3), Lady Froth (4), Lady Pliant (5), Lady Touchwood (6), Lady Wiſhfort (7), Mrs. Marwood (8), &c. [68] &c. and even his virtuous Characters are worth obſerving for their Failings; for Example, the Affectation of Belin⯑da (1) and Millamant (2), and the Wild⯑neſs of Angelica (3).
Some Critics have aſſerted that Con⯑greve has drawn none but vicious Cha⯑racters, but I think they are miſtaken. Cynthia (4) is an Exception. He has many other beautiful Characters, not faultleſs indeed. That Writer was too great a Maſter of Nature, to draw ‘Faultleſs Monſters that the World ne'er ſaw,’ as the Duke of Buckingham calls them. We muſt not forget Ben Johnſon's Lady [69] Wou'd-be (1), and Otway's Lady Dunce (2). Theſe bad Characters (which weak un⯑diſcerning People have condemned as [...]mproper for Repreſentation, and thence have endeavoured to decry the Utility of the Drama in general) have all their good Tendencies. There is ſomething to be culled out of every one worth ob⯑ſerving and ſhunning; and thoſe who ſay that faulty Characters ſhould not be produced on the Stage, might with an equal Degree of Propriety aſſert, that there ſhould be no Shade in a Picture.
In my next I will ſend you ſome pleaſ⯑ [...]ng Characters from the ſame Author; but in the mean Time (by the way of Muſic between the Acts) I give you ſome [70] Extracts from Dr. Swift's Poem on his own Death. You will find in it a great deal of Wit, Humour, good Senſe, and true Judgment of Mankind, and the Faults of both Sexes moſt humourouſly expoſed and ridiculed.
Perhaps you may have read this Poem already, notwithſtanding, attend to it once more. Much Good may be derived from it Vice and Folly appear in ſo many Shapes, that it is worth our while to ſtudy as many and as various Cha⯑racters of faulty Men and Women, as we can find, in order to warn us againſt them, in whatſoever Shape they may appear, or attack us. I ſhall refer a Tranſlation of a Paſſage of this Tenden⯑cy from the noble Hiſtorian, Livy, to [71] my next Letter; but obſerve, when I ſaid that we ſhould ſtudy as many of theſe Characters as we can, I meant to im⯑ply, if they are well-drawn; for, if they are not, we may miſlead and deceive our⯑ſelves.
If Affairs will permit, I could wiſh you to come and ſtay a while here this Summer; but then you ought to bring a Recommendation with you to ſome Fa⯑mily here, (for indeed I am not acquaint⯑ed with any) otherwiſe, I fear your Time may go off very heavily.
I JUST now received yours of yeſter⯑day. I am perfectly of your Opinion about the Verſes on the Dean's Death; and eſpecially of thoſe four Lines, which are ſo lively a Repreſentation of what uſually happens on ſuch Occaſions.
I have one Word more to ſay about Artimeſia. It is not a vicious Character, only it includes a Want of Decency, and a total Neglect of all the Duties of Life, for the Affectation of Learning. If I remember right, Pope imputes much the ſame Charge to Mrs. Haywood and [73] Centlivre. I have ſaid thus much, for the Sake of quoting you four Lines from the admirable Boileau, which I think much a-propos.
I have not much more Time for writ⯑ing at preſent, but on Sunday I will ſend you many Things to make Amends for what I now defer. I ſhall not ſend you the pleaſing Characters I mentioned till then; but to recompenſe your Pa⯑tience, I encloſe the Progreſs of Love, with which I believe you will be much pleaſ⯑ed. I likewiſe convey you ſome Lines [74] of Mr. Pope on the Birth-Day of Mrs. Blunt, a Lady whom he admires. There you will ſee another faulty Character drawn in the Lines I have marked; Phyllis is another of the ſame Species; yet theſe, and thoſe I ſent you formerly, are all different from each other.
I have not Time to ſay more, ſo [...].
P. S. I ſhall continue to ſend you occa⯑ſionally ſome more of the Dean's comic Pieces.
I Here encloſe you two Poems; in one of them the eſtimable and unbecom⯑ing Qualifications of your Sex are ſet in Oppoſition to each other, by Way of Contraſt. How laſting are thoſe of the firſt Sort, how fleeting thoſe of the lat⯑ter! Beauty and all external Advantages are ingeniouſly compared to Fruit in⯑grafted on the Stock of an annual Plant, which indeed makes a luxuriant Shoot, but is ſoon gone. I preſume you know that an annual Plant continues only one Year, ſuch as Fruits, Vegetables, and [76] Corn of all Kinds. Thoſe which laſt many Years, as large Trees, we call Perennials.
In the other Poem the Dean purſues Epictetus's Notion of Things in our own Power, ſuch as Virtue and Truth. He makes ſmall Account of Beauty, Shape, Complexion, and ſuch Qualities as we cannot procure to ourſelves; but Honour, Chaſtity, Decency, Integrity, and all within our own Power to attain, he places in a moſt eſtimable Light.
Ovid, in his Art of Love, which I be⯑lieve you have by you, or at leaſt have read, finely purſues the ſame Train of Ideas, both in his two firſt Books, which he wrote to inſtruct the Men, and in his [77] third, which he calculated to regulate the Conduct of Women.
There is ſomething exceeding ſingular in the Humour of both Poems. In Stella's Birth-Day he continues the Strain he be⯑gan with, in talking of her. He then puts theſe in Oppoſition, and, as it were, Foils to her, as if they were really Signs. Witneſs thoſe four moſt humorous Lines,
I have many more entertaining Pieces for you of the Dean's, ſuch as Mary the Cookmaid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan, and two Bal⯑lads; [78] the one ſtiled Quadrille, the other Molly Mog, which I will ſend you at ſome future Time, if you tell me in your next Letter that you have not ſeen them. I do not think it a Trouble to tranſcribe a Piece of any Length, provided I am aſſured you reap either Inſtruction or Delight from it; but both theſe united ought to be the Reſult of Reading. If you do not acquire this Advantage, the Fault, I ſhould conceive, muſt be in my wrong Choice of Materials. You are docile and quick; and with a Perſon of your Talents, Hints and tranſient Obſer⯑vations, delivered in this light eaſy Mode of a Letter, will go further than all the ſet formal Rules for teaching, that ever were laid down.
[79]Till I ſend you the above, you ſhall have Prometheus, written againſt Wood and his Halfpence. It is very full of Wit. I give it you therefore now by way of Relief, and at ſome future Time you ſhall have his favourable Characters of Women.
I think it neceſſary to premiſe ſome Account of the above-mentioned Poem, which poſſibly you are a Stranger to.
A Man, whoſe Name was Wood, ob⯑tained a Patent from King George I. to make Halfpenny Pieces of baſe Metal, which were to be current in Ireland. This Project would have drained that poor Kingdom of all the good Money; but the Dean, under the Name of M. B. [80] Drapier, wrote ſuch ſmart Letters and Poems, ſometimes ſerious and ſometimes ludicrous, as to raiſe a Reſentment againſt Wood, that aboliſhed his Scheme. The Nation would not receive any of his Coin, and the Coiner was in Danger of being torn in Pieces. From that Time, the Dean was looked on as the Deliverer of his Country.
You talk of going to Richmond for a few Days. You muſt ſtay a Week abroad at leaſt, otherwiſe it is not worth your while to go. During your Excurſion, you ſhould go by Water to Hampton Court, ſee that Palace, the famous Cartoons of Ra⯑phael, and the Beauties of King William's Court. Then I would recommend to you to walk through the Park, to view the [81] Caſcades, from thence to Ham-Houſe, and ſo return to Richmond.
I give you this Advice, becauſe I wiſh that every thing you undertake, even a Scheme of Diſſipation, ſhould anſwer ſome uſeful End. A Survey of fine Paint⯑ing feeds the Mind, by enlarging the Fancy; the Walks and Caſcades ſhew what human Art is capable of; and even a Meadow or common Field are Sources of Learning, Piety, and Admira⯑tion, in an attentive and well-directed Mind.
My humble Duty to your Mama and Aunt.
I Have your Letter of the 14th, but where has it been? It was not put into the Poſt till yeſternight, for the Poſt-Mark bears the 16th Day of the Month, the Letter itſelf is dated the 7th, and I have only received it this Day. Here is an Interval of nine Days. However, now that it is come at laſt, I am very well pleaſed with it. It is written very clean and genteel. It has the Appearance of coming from a Gentle⯑woman. People are not in general ſuf⯑ficiently aware how much they expoſe [83] themſelves to Cenſure or Ridicule, by a wrong or careleſs Manner of acquitting themſelves in trifling Affairs. A neat or a ſlovenly Diſpoſition may be known as well in the Folding and Addreſs of a Let⯑ter, as by perſonal Acquaintance.
Your Thoughts and Reflections are entirely juſt, and prettily expreſſed, en⯑tirely of a Piece with the Neatneſs of the writing, ſo that (if I may uſe the Expreſ⯑ſion) I love both the Soul and Body of your Letter.
I here ſend you Prometheus, and Part of a Song, wherein there is a pretty Con⯑traſt of three young Ladies. In my next Letter I propoſe ſending you three Poems, all written in Favour of the Ladies, to [84] make Amends for the diſagreeable Pic⯑tures I ſhewed you before. After theſe you ſhall have Mary the Cook-Maid, and Quadrille, with ſome Things out of Ho⯑race; which, although the Tranſlation is not dreſſed in the beſt Poetry in the World, will, in Reſpect to the Sentiment, I dare ſay, give you much Delight.
P. S. There is one Paſſage in the Poem of Prometheus, which requires Explana⯑tion. It is this following Line, ‘Venus was brib'd to let it paſſ.’ [85] The Dutcheſs of Munſter was meant by Venus, who was bribed by Wood to get the Patent paſſed by the King.
I Never heard of that Song of Stella and Flavia, which you ſay is now ſo much in Vogue. I wiſh you would get me a Copy of it. I have at laſt ſent the beau⯑tiful Characters I promiſed, and hope you will like them. I leave you to find out the Beauties in the Extract, and the Lady at Court; but I muſt have a Word or two about Biddy Floyd, which I dare ſay you have ſeen long before now.
[86]The Humour, it is true, is whimſi⯑cal, but exceeding juſt. You ſee it is given by way of Receipt, and carried on pretty much in the Stile of common Receipts for making Jellies or Conſerves. In the firſt Place, he gives you the eſſen⯑tial Qualities, and then points out the Faults which are apt to grow up with them, and from which thoſe Qualities ought to be ſeparated. For Example, he ſays, that ‘Candour, Innocence, and Good-nature,’ ſhould be picked clean from ‘Demureneſs, Aukwardneſs, and Coyneſs;’ the Seaſoning or Pickle to thoſe fine Qua⯑lities conſiſts of ‘Good Breeding, Wit, Air, and decent Pride,’ cleanſed from ‘Coquetry, Affectation, Pertneſs, and Vanity.’
[87]This you muſt allow to be very apt and judicious, perfectly in the Stile of common Receipts. For Inſtance now,
To preſerve Apples, you muſt ſepa⯑rate the Fruit from ‘The Peel, the Stalk, the Core, and Seeds,’ you muſt then make uſe of ‘The fineſt Sugar free from all Droſs;’ and during the Proceſs, to clear off the Scum as it riſes, and ſo forth.
This is all as inſtructive as entertain⯑ing; and I do think, my dear Nancy, that every young Woman ſhould always carry this Receipt to make a Beauty about with her. The Female that is ſeaſoned, and preſerved in this Manner, take my Word for it, will be a Beauty in the Eyes [88] of all ſenſible Men and Women, though Jove, in mixing up the Compoſition, has not, perhaps, employed his fineſt Clay.
In my next I will ſend you the Quid⯑nuncs; it is, in my Opinion, a fine Tale, full of Humour, and carries with it a very uſeful Moral.
HAVE you an Inclination for Molly Mog, or the Letter to Mr. John Moore about Worms? They are both di⯑verting.
[89]You have now read the Journal of a modern fine Lady. It ſets forth the fooliſh unprofitable Manner in which many La⯑dies paſs, or rather waſte their Time, in ſo lively a Strain, that I think you ſhould read it often, and that with great Atten⯑tion. Not that I mean to imply any immediate Neceſſity you have for it; but though you do not ſtand in need of it by way of Remedy, it might ſerve to carry about as an Amulet or Charm; a kind of Preſervative againſt the Evils it is calculated to cure.
Livy, the great Roman Hiſtorian, ſays, the Uſe of Hiſtory is to teach us what we are to ſhun, and what we are to imi⯑taee. This ought to be the great End of Poetry as well as Hiſtory. And Horace, [90] who was one of the moſt judicious Poets that ever lived in any Age or Country, tells us, this Inſtruction is to be attained from a Mixture of the utile with the dulce, that is, of the uſeful with the pleaſant. Now in all the little Poems I have ſent you, I think there is this Mixture; and they likewiſe anſwer the End preſcribed by Livy, they ‘teach what we are to ſhun, and what to imitate.’
Horace's golden Rule of utile dulci, was never more properly applied than when it was made the Motto of a Thea⯑tre; ſince the Stage, under ſuitable Re⯑gulations, is moſt capable of anſwering the Intent. The greateſt moral Writers can only preſcribe Rules for a Rectitude of Conduct and Decorum of Behaviour; [91] the Stage ſhews you the Beauty and Force of thoſe Rules, when put into Practice. It moreover anſwers the great Purpoſe and Uſe which Livy aſcribes to Hiſtory. It ſhews ‘what to ſhun, and what to imitate,’ more immediately and ac⯑curately than any Hiſtorian whatſoever is capable of doing.
I encloſe the Quidnuncs. I think there is not any thing neceſſary to ſubjoin, by way of Note, except to tell you that the Duke of Orleans was Regent of France in this King's Minority. He was a very great Man, and died when I was in France, in the Year 1722.
I ſhould be glad to know exactly when you ſet out for Richmond, becauſe I [92] think I can provide you a very agreeable Companion in the literary Way. It is a Poem called The Alley. It deſcribes all inconvenient and diſagreeable Circum⯑ſtances, which are met in the pleaſant-ſituated Town and Villages on the Banks of the Thames. It would be an Enter⯑tainment to you any where, and at any Time; but you will be much more ſen⯑ſible of the Beauties, when you are paſſing through thoſe Places. I therefore ſhall not ſend it, till you tell me that you are about to ſet forward.
You ſhall have two or three little di⯑verting Poems to-morrow.
I Send you herewith a ſmall Collection of Epigrammatical Poems; the Beauty of this Kind of writing conſiſts in a cer⯑tain Point, or Turn of Wit. They are rather for your Diverſion, than any thing elſe. This perhaps you may reproach me for, as deviating from the great utile dulci, which I ſo ſtrongly recom⯑mended in my laſt Letter. But, pro⯑vided this Rule is generally practiſed, there is no Harm in a ſhort caſual Devia⯑tion; as there is not any thing amiſs in riſing to a Game of Battledore and Shut⯑tlecock, [94] after a long ſedentary Applica⯑tion to Reading or Writing; nay it is ra⯑ther right than wrong, in-as-much as it tends to render both Mind and Body, like Aeſop's relaxed Bow, ‘fitter for Uſe when you want them.’
The Happineſs of a Parſon's Life, is ſurely exceeding humorous. It very na⯑turally deſcribes thoſe ſimple and hum⯑ble Pleaſures, whereof a Country Cler⯑gyman's Life conſiſts. Yet theſe per⯑haps afford a more laſting Satisfaction, (though not ſo exquiſite an Enjoyment) than thoſe which are more refined, and what the French call more ſpirituelles; at leaſt, they are very innocent Plea⯑ſures.
[95]One of the next two Poems I ſhall ſend you, is called the Elephant, or Par⯑liament-Man, and the other Aye and No. They both ſatirize, with great Wit and Humour, the Corruption of Members, which ſo ſhamefully prevails at preſent. The Parliament, I preſume you know, is an Aſſemblage of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons of a Kingdom, for national Purpoſes. It de⯑rives its Name from the French Verb parler, to ſpeak. We have our Engliſh Word Parley, from the ſame Root. Per⯑haps you could have told me this, and perhaps not, and your Ignorance never⯑theleſs not to be taxed with Blame. It is amazing how much Knowledge is loſt for Want of a little common Attention or Obſervation in our general Intercourſe [96] with the World. Numberleſs are the Inſtances I have ſeen of ſenſible clever People being put to the Bluſh, and to a Difficulty, by a ſimple Queſtion pro⯑poſed from a Perſon of inferior Talents, and be infinitely aſtoniſhed at themſelves, that they should have been ſo long igno⯑rant of ſo plain a Matter.
If I have a Letter from you by this Day's Poſt, which I look for, I will add a Poſtſcript. Pray ſee that the encloſed be immediately put into the Penny-Poſt.
YOUR Letter juſt now came to my Hand. I find that, which I wrote you this Day Se'nnight, is miſcarried. I encloſed the Cook-Maid's Letter in it, and, If I am not miſtaken, ſent it un⯑der Mr. K —'s Cover. Perhaps he con⯑ſigned it to the Penny-Poſt, and it has been miſlaid or neglected there. It is worth your while to enquire at the little Office near you; and if it be entirely gone, I will ſend you another Copy of the Poem. I mentioned therein that I would ſend you a Letter of Introduc⯑tion [98] to a Family at Richmond; and your not noticing this Particular, convinces me that ſame muſt be what we have loſt.
Now to your Queſtions—
A Rap is a Blow, and likewiſe a baſe Coin uſed in Ireland.
The Whigs are for deſtroying the Church, or at leaſt, for reducing it. The Tories are for exalting it. Down with the Church, and Up with the Church, were frequent Expreſſions with the reſpective Parties.
The Mill-Dam is the Place where they keep a Reſervoir of Water, to ſet [99] the Mill going. Obſerve though this is only for Water-Mills, and the Sound, you know, pretty near that of a vulgar Oath.
Pinking is making ſmall Holes. This was more in Uſe, at the Time of the old Engliſh Habit, when the Doublets for Men were laced, as Stays are for Women. Captain Bluff, in Congreve, you know, ſays, I'll pink his Soul, in Alluſion to this Faſhion.
The Ana-Baptiſts are not baptized till they come to Years of Diſcretion, and then they are plunged, not ſprinkled. The firſt Part of the Word is adopted from the Greek, [...], which ſignifies againſt, or contrary. Thus they are [100] againſt baptizing, till ſuch an Advance of Life.
The Mortuary-Guinea is the Parſon's Due at Burials, for reading the Service, Church-yard Fees, &c. It is derived from the Latin Word Mors, which means Death; thence too we have mortal.
You ſhall have all the Poems you write of. In the mean Time, I ſend The Ele⯑phant, and Aye and No; which I believe will pleaſe you much.
I hope to hear from you ſoon, to know if you are removed, and all Things ſet⯑tled, and how you like your new Apart⯑ments. I am, my dear Heart,
I Write to you ſo often, and you write to me ſo ſeldom, that I am afraid you begin to be tired with the Corre⯑ſpondence, but hope my Fears are groundleſs. I aſſure you it is not every one I would take ſo much Pains for. I thought that the Want of Amuſements in London, at this Seaſon of the Year, would have rendered my frequent Writ⯑ing a ſort of Diverſion to you, and, in ſome Meaſure, an Amends for the Loſs of others. In order to make this Diver⯑ſion as agreeable and inſtructive as I am [102] able, I have tranſcribed ſeveral Poems, ſuch as I thought would beſt contribute to both theſe Purpoſes.
You have Talents ſo capable of Cul⯑tivation, that to be weary of receiving In⯑ſtruction, would argue an Ingratitude to Nature, and I cannot think you liable to it. Perhaps I write too often, per⯑haps I burthen you with a Frequency of Subjects; or perhaps a little Laſſitude and Inattention comes over you now and then, which, at your Time of Life, are excuſable, if not indulged too far. If that be the Caſe, confeſs. Such Omiſ⯑ſions call, at worſt, for the mildeſt Re⯑proof; but, I cannot help ſaying, they would become many young Folks better than you.
[103]Convinced that you cannot be pur⯑poſely negligent, I ſhall proceed in the old Way. I herewith ſend Mary the Cook-Maid's Letter to Dr. Sheridan, and The Grove, tranſlated from Paſtor Fido, by the Earl of Roſcommon. This is one of the beſt Pictures of a happy Life that I have ever ſeen; true Content and true Love, virtuous and innocent, are here delineated in their native beautiful Co⯑lours. I ſhall ſend you two or three more Poems which I think equal to the former, when I next write, and then reſt awhile, or turn to ſome other Subject. I will not hurry you at all. I requeſt that you will write only when you have Leiſure, and be at Pains to do it in a right Manner. You have gain⯑ed great Eſteem by ſo doing, for ſome [104] Time paſt; do not now begin to for⯑feit it.
If there be any Paſſages or Expreſſions in what I ſend, which require an Eclair⯑ciſſement, let me know ſo much, and I will explain them to you, as fully as I am able. All I do is meant to contri⯑bute to your Delight. Nothing can give me more. Pleaſure, than to hear that you are happy. Virtue and Piety are the cer⯑tain Road to Happineſs. Let me hear you are virtuous, and I am ſure you are happy.
Let me know certainly when you go for Richmond. My humble Service to Your Mother and Aunt.
P. S. You may perceive, my dear, that the above was written before I re⯑ceived yours; and the Reaſons for your apparent Remiſſneſs are very ſatisfactory. I ſhall write again to-morrow, and an⯑ſwer that Letter, et vous envoyer l'Epi⯑tre recommendatoire.
I Here encloſe a Letter to Mr. O—y at Richmond, under the Hill. Any one will tell you the Way to his Houſe. Go there the Morning after your Arrival. If you do not go by ten o'Clock, you [106] may happen to miſs of him; ſhould that be the Caſe, leave the Letter, and your Name, and go again after Dinner about three.
Now to your Queſtions—
A Congreſs is a Meeting of Ambaſſa⯑dors to ſettle Variances between different States and Kingdoms. Cambray is a Town in Flanders, where ſuch a Con⯑greſs was held. The Word quadruple ſignifies four-fold, and four Sovereign Powers were there going to enter into an Alliance at that Congreſs, but, ſome ſtrong Exceptions being ſtarted, they diſagreed, and broke up their Party at Quadrille.
[107]I think Stella and Flavia very pretty, but it does not, to me, carry the Air of Dr. Swift's Writing. I have encloſed the Alley, which I promiſed ſhould ac⯑company you on your little Tour. Con⯑ſider the Cook-maid's Letter well, and it will amuſe you much. You will find ſome Things in it very like what are called Blunders; ſome Words are uſed for others, as whereof and whereby; ſome are introduced that have no Meaning at all, as which, and it is four Years, &c. Now the Word which has no Relation to any thing; then ſee, the Clock ſtrikes ten, and not that I know to my Knowledge. In a Word, it is exceeding good low Humour, and that was all the Author intended. In order to reliſh any Piece well, it is neceſſary to conſider thoroughly what [108] the Author propoſed, and how far he meant to go; if he compaſſes his own Deſign, though the Work may not en⯑tirely ſatisfy your Imagination, he has done his Part; and the Deficiency is not to be charged on his having done too little, but on your having expected too much.
Did you ever ſee the Furniture of a Lady's Dreſſing-Room? If you have not, I will ſend it to you; though it falls ſhort of Dr. Swift's uſual Humour, it is nevertheleſs worth your reading. In Fact, there cannot be any Production of a great Genius, which is not worth one Reviſal, provided it be within the Bounds of Decency.
[109]Do you propoſe to let me know how I ſhall direct to you during your Stay at Richmond, or muſt I give over⯑writing till your Return to Town?
P. S. I have ſent you ſix Franks un⯑der another Cover. You will find Mr. and Mrs. O—y, very ſenſible knowing People.
YEſterday I received your agreeable Letter; but you put no Year of our Lord. I don't like this careleſs Way, becauſe it is the Means of con⯑tracting an ill Habit. Beſides, you be⯑gin a new Sentence with a ſmall Letter, and place no Point between that and your laſt, which ought never to be done; for though the ſmaller Points, ſuch as Commas, and Semicolons, may be omit⯑ted, full Points never ſhould.
[111]When you go to Richmond, you will be hurried about in ſeeing various Places. This was the Reaſon for my mention⯑ing an Interval, and I meant no more by it; but as Franks begin to be ſcarce, I ſhall be pleaſed if you write me once a Week, and tell me every Occurrence worth Obſervation in your Journeys, and how you are received. Perhaps they may be worthy to be called The Lady's Travels (not to Spain, but) to Richmond. You have not yet ſaid when you are to ſet out, nor how you are to get my Letters, or tranſmit yours to me. The Penny-Poſt does not reach Richmond, but there is an Office at Marſh-Gate, very near the Town. Your beſt Way to write to me is, in my Opinion, to keep your old Direction, and add, by [112] London. I ſuppoſe you will take out your few Franks with you.
I ſend you with this The Journal of a modern Lady. In my next, you ſhall have the new Simile of a Woman to a Cloud, and in the next after that, the Cloud's Anſwer; though there are ſome Indeli⯑cacies I much diſapprove. However, you are now very capable of diſcerning, adopting, and rejecting, as beſt beſeems. I have taken up The Furniture of a La⯑dy's Dreſſing-Room, I believe, ten Times, in order to tranſcribe it for you, and have flung it aſide as often; I find, on Examination, it does not pleaſe me.
When you come from your Excurſion, I will execute a Promiſe I made ſome [113] Time ſince; namely, to ſend you Horace's Judgment of the Iliad and Odyſſey. How much I regret that ſo exquiſite an Author, as Horace was, ſhould not hitherto have been tranſlated with that Spirit and Ener⯑gy he deſerves! He had a moſt elegant Pen; yet he too had, now and then, his Groſſneſſes; but they, like Shakeſpeare's Puns, were rather the Fault of the Age he lived in, than Deficiency in his own Taſte. I will however get you the beſt Tranſlation I can of the above-named Piece, and ſome others.
This is the third Letter I have written you this Week.
P. S. On Recollection, you had beſt write me by the General-Poſt, and not truſt to the other. I am greatly pleaſed with your laſt, it is ſo clean and ſo diſ⯑tinct, the Faults, I have already men⯑tioned, alone excepted.
I Have juſt now received your Letter, and am very ſorry for your ill For⯑tune; but as this Day and yeſterday have been pretty ſeaſonable, and as the Wea⯑ther ſeems to be ſettled, I hope it will now make you ſome little Amends. If [115] not, you muſt endure with Patience, or return home ungratified.
You will poſſibly think me a very cold dull Philoſopher, to preach up Patience and Forbearance to a Perſon at your Time of Life. I confeſs they are hard Leſ⯑ſons to learn at any Time, but eſpecially ſo while the Heart is gay, the Paſſions warm, and Wiſhes impetuous. Permit me, however, to make one ſhort Obſer⯑vation, which may, in ſome Meaſure, qualify thoſe impatient irkſome Senſa⯑tions that ariſe from Diſappointments.
The great Reaſon why Diſappoint⯑ments ſit more uneaſy on young Folks, than on Perſons advanced in Life, is, that the former aſſure themſelves of a [116] propoſed Enjoyment, beyond the Power of Chance to prevent it. They no more advert to the Poſſibility of a croſs Acci⯑dent, than if there were no ſuch Thing in Nature. Now methinks it is eaſy to remember that there is ſuch a Thing as a Diſappointment, as well as a Delight. If you, my dear Nancy, when you pro⯑ject a Scheme of Pleaſure for yourſelf, or have one propoſed to you, would but make it a Rule to ſay, I ought not to ſet my Heart on this, it would awaken you to all the Chances againſt you, and ſo qualify your Mind as to endure the Diſ⯑appointment without repining, and even enhance the Enjoyment, if your Wiſhes are gratified*.
[117]I wonder you neglected to take a Book with you. Never travel without one; if you do, you go without your beſt Com⯑panion, in Caſe of foul Weather or Diſ⯑appointments.
If the Weather ſhould continue fa⯑vourable, which I hope it may, do not, [118] by any Means, omit the Sight of Hamp⯑ton Court, Ham Walks, and Kew Gardens.
You neither tell me when you went out, nor whether you received the Let⯑ters I ſent you, after the Date of your laſt, with the Extracts from Cadenus and Vaneſſa, and The Journal of the modern Lady; but I can excuſe that, conſidering your Uneaſineſs. If this reaches you at Richmond, pray wait on Mr. and Mrs. O—y, with my hearty Service.
Much Enjoyment attend you, if you ob⯑tain your Wiſhes, Patience, if you do not!
I Received yours of the 15th juſt now. I am glad your Mama has conde⯑ſcended to ſtay another Week, for, not⯑withſtanding my philoſophic Admoni⯑tion, it would grieve me that you ſhould be diſappointed of your propoſed Plea⯑ſure. I hope you will let me know how you like the Places you ſee about Rich⯑mond. The Country all around is charm⯑ing. Be ſure not to omit the Green, nor indeed any Place. Every Object is Food to a contemplative Mind; and without Obſervation our Travels are nothing [120] worth. You may ſmile perhaps at my Application of the Word Travel, to your little Excurſion, and think it rather ludi⯑crous; but I do not mean it ſo. At your early Time of Life, and conſidering the little you have ſeen of the World, the Phraſe is not ſo improper as, at firſt, it may appear.
You ſeem not to reliſh your Reception at Mr. O—y's; you think it was cold, but it conſiſted only in Manner. A ſecond or third Viſit will convince you of this. They are very friendly, ſincere People, but have no Oſtentation. Such Perſons generally improve upon our Acquaintance, whereas thoſe who are full of Profeſſions and external Ceremonies, like great Pro⯑miſers, too often defraud our Expectations.
[121]In your Progreſs to Hampton Court, I beg you will obſerve the Village of Teddington. It is a Place which I love much.
As ſoon as I ſend the Anſwer to the Simile here encloſed, I ſhall give you my Thoughts on the Dean's Way of treating theſe Subjects; but this muſt be after your Return to London. Give my humble Service to your Ma⯑ma. I wiſh you both much Pleaſure. Be ſure to write me again before you go away, and let me have the whole Hiſtory of your Travels and Adven⯑tures; and pray take Time in doing it; you ſeem to write in Haſte, at leaſt your two laſt Letters carry this Ap⯑pearance. It is not how ſpeedily, but [120] [...] [121] [...] [122] how properly you acquit yourſelf, that will gain Approbation.
I AM glad my laſt arrived ſafe, and that you have had the Satisfaction of ſeeing ſome Things about Richmond worth Obſervation. I ſhould be pleaſed if your Mama would let, you ſtay a lit⯑tle longer, as you ſeem to like it ſo well; I think too it would be of Service to [123] both your Healths. You may give my Reſpects, and ſay I join in the Requeſt that ſhe would grant this Indulgence.
I don't know the Adventures you ſpeak of; but why not buy the Book, if you can⯑not borrow or hire it? I would rather you ſhould do ſo, than have your Curioſity left ungratified; and as I know the pru⯑dent Motive that has reſtrained you from making the Purchaſe, I beg you will let me be at the Charge of all ſuch Books as you wiſh ſhould compoſe your little Library. But you need not be quite ſo much at a Loſs where you are. Mr. O—y has a good Collection of Authors, and if you will aſk the Favour, I am ſure he will lend you any you deſire, or let you come and chuſe for yourſelf. But [124] then you muſt take great Care of what you have, and regularly return one when you wiſh for another, otherwiſe you will find him reluctant. Some Perſons would perhaps accuſe him herein of being par⯑ticular, but it is a Particularity which I have frequently ſeen; and why ſhould a Compliance with it be deemed hard, ſince it is no more than is conſiſtent with common good Manners? Lovers of read⯑ing very often take up a capricious Fond⯑neſs for their own Books; and, in Caſe of an Author being loſt, it is not always that a new, and perhaps neater, Edition will make Amends.
I have ſeen Lord Cholmondeley's fine Room, but it was not finiſhed when I ſaw it.
[125]The Cloud was written by Dr. Sheri⯑dan, I think, but the Anſwer by Dr. Swift. The latter is, in my Opinion, much the wittieſt, ſo I have ſent it en⯑cloſed.
I hope your Stay will be prolonged, for you will not eaſily forgive yourſelf, if you do not ſee Hampton Court, and the fine Cartoons of the immortal Ra⯑phael. The Stair-Cafe, and the Beauties of King William's Court, are well worth your Notice, as are the Lodge and Caſ⯑cade in Buſhy Park. Ham Walks will alſo give you great Pleaſure, but of ano⯑ther Kind. The former will rather raiſe your Wonder, (I mean the Court and Paintings) the latter inſpire with a ſoft Delight. You will be more at home [126] here, as you are happily poſſeſſed of a greater Reliſh for the humble, than the exalted Scenes of Life. Hence you will feel much Indulgence, I believe, in paſſ⯑ing through my favourite Village, Ted⯑dington.
I have now done with Dr. Swift, and ſhall, by way of Foil, ſend you the De⯑ſcription of a Lady's Dreſſing-Room, which is an Imitation (but far inferior) of the Doctor's Way of Writing; however you may, in ſome Meaſure, learn what to avoid, by reading it. There are many Things in that Part of Ovid's Art of Love, which Mr. Congreve has translated, worth noticing, in order to a Lady's making herſelf agreeable, beſides the cri⯑minal Part. This latter ought to be [127] carefully and judiciouſly diſtinguiſhed (and you are very capable of doing it) from the truly-uſeful and allowable, nay commendable Precepts, which he lays down.
After ſending you ſome few Reflections on Swift's Way of Writing, I will turn to Horace next. It is a great Pity that we have never yet had a good Tranſlation of him; but ſo it is; and indeed he is ſo difficult to be rightly hit off, that I deſpair of ever ſeeing one.
P. S. I am much pleaſed with your laſt Letter.
I HAD the Pleaſure of yours of the 22d inſtant. No Letters go from this on Saturday, ſo I could not anſwer you ſooner.
If the Weather prove fair this Week, I ſuppoſe you will go to Hampton Court, where I think you had better ſtay a Night, that you may ſee every thing at Leiſure. All the Places I wrote you of are in your Way. Let me ſcheme for you.
[129]I would go by Water to Hampton Court, return the next Morning on Foot, (it is a pleaſant Walk) through the Park, to Teddington, there take Water to Ham Houſe and from that walk to Richmond.
Now your Mama and you have got to ſo pleaſant a Spot, methinks I would have you ſtay ſome Time. As I ſaid be⯑fore, it will improve your Health and Spirits. If you are come abroad with Finances too narrow for this, let me know, and I can give you a Draught on Mr. O—y. He is my Banker; all my Monies go through his Hands, ſo there is nothing improper or inconve⯑nient in it.
[130]I am much delighted with your deli⯑cate Reaſons for declining my Offer of furniſhing you with Books; but you are too nice. Any thing in my Power, my dear Nancy, that may contribute either to your Health or Pleaſure, I think well beſtowed, that is to ſay, while you are ſo deſerving in every Reſpect. Per⯑haps I might do the ſame, were your Merit not quite equal to what it is, but not with the ſame good Will; and I know your Diſpoſition would ſcorn to be obliged, when you thought you did not deſerve the Obligation.
As I told you in my laſt, Mr. O—y, I am ſure, will let you have any Book you deſire. If you could find the Life of Guzman d' Alfarache, I think it would [131] entertain you. I well remember, when I was young, it entertained me.
I expect to be called to London ſome Time next Month, but am not certain exactly when. You ſhall know before I ſet out. Now to what I propoſed about Dr. Swift.
Although Swift was a very nice Judge of Mankind, (I mean herein to include both Sexes) and conſequently found many Things to cenſure, and might poſ⯑ſibly, on that Account, have too great a Contempt for the Generality of the World, yet we muſt not thence con⯑clude, that he was either a Man-Hater or a Woman-Hater. He wanted only to correct Vices; and though he launched [132] into perſonal Satire againſt many parti⯑ticular Men, (who, I believe, deſerved it at his Hands) yet I do not remember that he has been guilty of the ſame againſt the fair Sex.
In the next Place it may be obſerved, that he has perhaps painted his Charac⯑ters larger than the Life, as the Painters phraſe it; but this is often neceſſary, to make the deeper Impreſſion, as Figures larger than the Life muſt be adopted ſometimes in Painting and Statuary, for the very ſame Purpoſe, eſpecially when placed at a great Diſtance. But who⯑ever reads his Works attentively, will find that his Characters, though ſome⯑times too ſtrong, are nevertheleſs per⯑fectly natural.
[133]His Satire or Cenſure of your Sex has various Sources. It is ſometimes drawn from Faults incident to the Sex in gene⯑ral; that is to ſay, Faults, or rather Weakneſſes, which Women are more ſubject to than Men, and which may be ſaid to ariſe from the Sex itſelf; for Example, Fear, Whims, and idle Fan⯑cies. Theſe, you ſee, he wiſhes to era⯑dicate from their Minds.
At other Times his Satire ariſes from Faults, to which your Mode of Edu⯑cation expoſes you; namely, Affectation, Diſſembling, Tittle-Tattle, amuſing your⯑ſelves with Trifles of Dreſs, Colours, Shapes, &c. for which indeed you are not to be blamed yourſelves, but the Perſons are, who have had the Care of your Youth.
[134]Some Faultineſſes which he arraigns, are thoſe that attend certain Times and Places, as Faſhions; and I take the Mo⯑dern Lady to be of this Sort. Others are what this or that particular Woman runs into, which ariſe out of Affectation or Vanity, and wear, at the ſame Time, the Semblance of Virtue. Such is the Cha⯑racter of Artimeſia.
Perhaps the Author had ſome parti⯑cular Woman in his View when he drew this Character, Phryne, and Sappho, &c. ſo poſſibly had Mr. Congreve, when he drew Doris and Amoret, but then they take Care not to expoſe any one. Of all theſe, I think Amoret the niceſt; be⯑cauſe her Faults are hardly diſtinguiſh⯑able from Virtue, and ſuch as are moſt [135] likely to impoſe not only on the World, but even on the Perſon who has them; and I do ſay, a Girl of good Senſe and a virtuous Diſpoſition, is not in ſo much Danger of becoming Phryne or Doris, or even Artimeſia or Sappho, as ſhe is of be⯑coming an Amoret. The laſt Stanza of this little Poem, namely,
is the moſt judicious and moſt true Re⯑mark I ever read on the Sex, and yet the leaſt noticed. By the bye, it may very often be applied to our Sex as well as yours, and with as much Propriety.
[136]Thus you ſee the Doctor has ſhewn your Sex what they ought to ſhun, in ſome Poems, and what they ought to be, in others; namely, in his Biddy Floyd, a Lady at Court, Stella, Mrs. B——, &c.
Adieu, my dear. I ſhall write you ſoon ſome further Thoughts, perhaps to-morrow or next Day; but I am afraid I tire you.
I Have not yet got Time to make a Copy of The Dreſſing-Room for you, but ſhall do it by the next Poſt-Day, and then to Horace.
Beſides what I mentioned in my laſt Letter relative to female Faults, there are ſome which proceed from the Condition of Life. Women, by their Conſtitu⯑tion, by their Frame of Body and Mind, are more formed for Subjection, than Men are. Some People indeed have diſ⯑puted this, but it has been rather to ſhew their Wit and Parts, than for any other [138] Purpoſe, for the Fact is too evident to be denied. Allowing it to be ſo, there are then ſome Temptations which ariſe from the Condition of the Sex. A Deſire of Rule, or perhaps of having their Will, which is as ſtrong in many Women as in Men, naturally incites them to find out ſome crafty Methods to obtain it. By the Prerogative of our Sex, we go a ſhorter and more direct Way to work. Some maſculine Women do the ſame, eſpecially when they meet with ſoft, eaſy, womaniſh Men; but, for the moſt Part, it is otherwiſe. Women then, I ſay, who are deſirous of Sway, are re⯑duced to peculiar Contrivances to obtain it: they muſt apply to Art and Cunning, to wheedling or teazing, according to the Temper of the Perſons they have to [139] deal with. I do not mean to infer from this, that Women are by Nature more inſincere, more cunning, flattering, or more affected than the Men, but that it is only the Condition, whereto the Diſadvantage of their Sex reduces them, which is the Source and Origin of ſuch indirect Practices. To confirm this, we may obſerve that Children, (Boys I mean) wilt do the ſelf ſame Thing, to obtain what they want from their Parents; ſo will Servants, or any Inferiors, from their Maſters and Superiors. But Women, who have humane and reaſonable Huſ⯑bands, and who are reaſonable them⯑ſelves, or are independent, (in either of which Caſes the Condition is different from what I before deſcribed) are not chargeable with ſuch Subtleties; I ſay, [140] we do not ſee them make Uſe of any of theſe little, though too often neceſſary, Arts.
I fear I have tired you. I have dwelt too long on a Subject too grating to a female Ear; I ſhall therefore only ob⯑ſerve, that ſome Faults flow from the Sex, (are generical, if I may ſo call them) more ariſe from Education, but moſt from their Condition or Station in Life.
I think it is Dr. Swift who will not allow that there is ſuch a Thing as maſ⯑culine and feminine Virtues. What is Virtue in a Man, is ſo in a Woman, ſays he. I will not diſpute that Opinion, but I believe I may affirm, that there are Virtues, as well as Vices, in general, [141] more ſtrongly implanted in the one Sex, than in the other; as for Example, Fear, Tenderneſs, Compaſſion, &c. in Women, and Intrepidity, Roughneſs, Hardineſs, &c. in Men. There are moreover ſome Faults and Frailties pardonable in the one Sex, which are abominable in the other.
A young Fellow who rambles about, and runs Riot, is eaſily forgiven; if a young Woman ſhould do ſo, ſhe is gone at once. As Rowe ſays, ‘She ſets, like Stars that fall, to riſe no more.’ I do not preſume to ſay but that the World is rather unjuſt to be ſo indul⯑gent on the one Hand, and ſo ſevere on the other; but that is no Kind of Alle⯑viation [142] to the young Woman who ex⯑poſes herſelf to ſuch Danger.
There are ſome Inſtances on the other Hand. If a Woman is frighted at Trifles or Shadows, ſhe is compaſſionated; a Man ſo circumſtanced, would be ridi⯑culed. If Women put on affected Airs, or are over-ſolicitous about their Dreſs and Appearance, at worſt they are de⯑ſpiſed perhaps only pitied; but let a Ma [...] be guilty of ſuch Things, he is deteſted.
Theſe Hints, my dear, were occa⯑ſioned by the Poems I ſent you. Yo [...] may purſue them to a greater Length, and they may ſerve as uſeful Warning [...] to ſhew you where your Danger lies an [...] preſerve you from falling into it. To know [143] where we are moſt weak, is one Step towards our Security. Every young Per⯑ſon, eſpecially a Female, coming into Life, ſhould nicely obſerve the Diſtinction between the Virtues and Vices of both Sexes, and be able to aſcertain the reſpec⯑tive Conduct neceſſary to be purſued.
The Poſt is juſt come in, but I have nothing from you. I hope you are well. My next Letter ſhall be on a quite dif⯑ferent Subject.
Je ſuis, ma chere Nannette, très ſin⯑cerement,
JUST now, my dear, I have the Plea⯑ſure of yours of the 27th, and thank you for it. I do not call this an Anſwer, but barely an Acknowledgment; for I am obliged to defer ſending you the Copy of Verſes I promiſed, and writing what I propoſed, being compelled to go out of Town for ſome few Days; but do not let that hinder your writing to me, for your Letters will be ſent to me, and I can anſwer them from the Country.
[145]I wonder you have ſo long put off going to Hampton Court. You ſhould have ſeized your firſt good Weather for that; that is, if your Mama did not diſ⯑approve it; but if ſhe found herſelf in⯑clined to reſt at Richmond, I make no Doubt but your warmeſt Deſires for Pleaſure would be ſubmitted to her Eaſe. No Duty is ſo graceful as that which is paid to a Parent, and it ſhould be continued through Life; the firſt to be taken up, the laſt to be laid aſide.
When you return to London, I will endeavour to get you a little Hoard of Franks; but, in the mean Time, write on, and give me Pleaſure. My Re⯑tirement will be improved, as my Hours [146] of Buſineſs are relieved, by our Corre⯑ſpondence.
My Service to your Mama.
AT my Return to this Place, my dear Nancy, I received yours of the 13th of July, and yeſterday I had another of the 5th inſtant. I cannot ac⯑count for the Letter having been five Days on the Road.
[147]Your being taken ſick upon your Tour muſt be both a Diſappointment and In⯑convenience. I hope however your Diſ⯑order will not increaſe. If it ſhould, and you are unable to write, beg your Mama to favour me with a Line, as you may reaſonably ſuppoſe I ſhall otherwiſe be kept in a very uneaſy Suſpence.
Suffer me here to trouble you with a little Caution, which however I cannot think you ſtand in Need of. There is an idle Cuſtom, wherein too many of your Sex indulge themſelves, which ought to be carefully guarded againſt; I mean that of complaining for Trifles, and endeavouring to impoſe a flight In⯑diſpoſition for a material Illneſs. Some [148] Ladies who follow this Practice, per⯑haps would never dream of doing it of their own Accords, but they have ſeen the Affectation in others, and fancied it became them; thus they are guilty of that through Imitation, which they would never have been through Prin⯑ciple. Such Perſons draw on themſelves one Inconvenience at leaſt, namely, that of not being credited, when they are really ill.
To divert you, I will quote a Paſ⯑ſage out of Horace, ſomewhat ſimilar to this. I own the Tranſlation to be very indifferent, but the Senſe is ex⯑cellent.
I wiſh there were a good Tranſlation of Horace, for your Sake, but it is what I deſpair of ever ſeeing: however, I would have you acquainted with him even in ſuch Tranſlation as we have. I will get you the beſt I can very ſoon. [150] He is a Treaſure that you would be glad to be poſſeſſed of; and though you may reliſh him but indifferently, as he is given in our Language, yet it is better than not to be acquainted with him at all.
I do not know how long it may be before I ſee London. If you are willing therefore, we will ſupply the Abſence as uſual, by Letter, and perhaps to better Advantage than if we were together.
P. S. Since writing the above, I have a Letter from Mr. K—, and one from you, about the Parcel of Snuff you have been ſo good to ſend me. I thank you very kindly. Such little Remembrances are endearing, and ſometimes more ſo than material Services; ſince the latter are generally called out by ſome occasional Claim of Exigency, whereas the former are the Reſult of a conſtant Attention and Inclination to oblige. The Portugueſe have a pretty Adage, or Proverb, to this Pur⯑poſe, which means, ‘Civility coſts little, and gains much.’
You aſk about the unhappy Acci⯑dent, mentioned in the News-Papers. You perceive, by this, that the Diſaſter [152] did not befal me. It is true, the poor Servant was drowned, by the Boat overſetting. Mr. L— was got out, without any Damage. I was not in the Boat. I have neither mentioned it in writing, nor talked of it to any one, when I could avoid it. Such Events, I think, are painful to the Hearer as well as the Speaker; for this Reaſon, I did not hint it to Mr. K—.
A great Concourſe of Company is to be at our Races this Week. This Hall will be crouded. The Duke of Hamilton, Earl of Orrery, and his Son, Lord Boyle, will lye here; a Brother of Mr. L— from the Indies, and many more Gentlemen.
[153]Give my hearty Service to your Mama and Aunt; thank them for their kind Concern about me, and write me when you think fitting.
I Have yours of the 23d, for which I am much obliged, ſince it brings me News of your Amendment. It may ap⯑pear odd to ſay, I am now very glad to be informed that you have been verita⯑blement malade; as I would rather that a [154] Perſon, for whom I entertain ſuch a high Eſteem, as I do for you, ſhould be loſt to Health, than loſt to Truth. In ſuch a Caſe as ours, however, I know the Generality of the World would not call it a Falſhood, only an Equivocation; but ſurely, inſtead of mending the Matter, this is only making it worſe; the Fault is the ſame, with the Aggravation of Meanneſs. We ſee frequent Inſtances hereof in the common Occurrences of Life, and People are either inſenſible, or regardleſs of them. But call the Tranſ⯑greſſion what by Name you will, ſtill it is ſuch as I thought you incapable of, and am pleaſed to be confirmed in my Opi⯑nion; though by your calling my Quo⯑tation from Horace a bitter Pill, you cer⯑tainly ſtrained it to a Meaning I did not [155] intend you ſhould. I had ſome Suſpi⯑cion of this when I wrote it. However, I choſe to leave it for you to comment on, and for myſelf to defend afterwards, which I thus do.
Every Fable has, or may have, a ge⯑neral, as well as a particular Applica⯑tion. Our Story ſhews the Danger of People uſing falſe Pretences, on various Occaſions, and thereby running a Riſque of not being believed, when they ſpeak truth. This is the general Moral or Ap⯑plication. The particular Moral is ſpe⯑cified in the kept Woman loſing her Cre⯑dit with her Friend, by pretending eter⯑nal Wants and Loſſes; a Hanger-on with his Retainer; and a Beggar with the Paſ⯑ſenger. Now you choſe to introduce a [156] particular Application to your own Ill⯑neſs, which I thought I had guarded againſt in my Premiſal to the Quotation. It ſeems you did not think ſo, and there was no Harm in it; it was but the na⯑tural Reſult of a ſtrong and a nice Feel⯑ing; and, were it an Error, I would rea⯑dily take it on myſelf, being, as I am, the Source of it; and again aſſure you I meant only to amuſe, not to reproach you.
I have bought Horace for you; but the Tranſlation being very indifferent, many Alluſions made to Roman Cuſ⯑toms, and Roman Names of People and Places introduced, I fear it will read very heavily. You would nevertheleſs find it worth your while to put up with [157] the former, and be at ſome extraordinary Pains to make yourſelf acquainted with the others, for the Sake of the prudent Sayings, Advices, Maxims, and Reflec⯑tions, wherewith the Author abounds. In ſhort, you muſt, for once, be contented with the utile without the dulce, for the latter is all left behind with the Ori⯑ginal. It will ſomewhat reſemble a wholeſome Pill, without any Gilding.
There is another Author I want to make you acquainted with, and that is Longinus on the Sublime. I will get one for you, and ſend it with Horace. Ob⯑ſerve, my dear, while I am recommend⯑ing theſe to you, I have no Deſign to induce you to ſet up for a Critic, or a female Pedant, only to enable you to [158] know the Extent of your own Judg⯑ment, and how to correct and regulate it to your Profit and Pleaſure. For this Purpoſe merely it is that I wiſh to make you acquainted with ſome of the beſt Writers of Antiquity, who accu⯑rately diſtinguiſh between Senſe and Non-ſenſe, true and falſe Wit, Humour and Farce, Sublime and Bombaſt, a noble Flight and a Rant, a graceful Complaint and an unbecoming Whining.
The melancholy Accident, which you enquire about, happened in the follow⯑ing Manner.
We were at a Treat which a new Comer to the Hall gives to the other Students. It [159] was at the celebrated Place, called God-ſtow where Fair Roſamond, the Favourite of Henry II. was buried. A Branch of the Iſis runs there, which at London is called the Thames. There is a Bridge of two Arches; the one was ſtopped up, in order to catch Fiſh there, ſo the whole Stream was thrown into the other. Mr. L— had taken his Servant into his Boat, and was endeavouring to puſh through the Arch, which he had, at other Times, done without Difficulty; but, on this Occaſion, the Impetuoſity of the Current ſuddenly drove the Boat back with great Violence; Mr. L— ſtumbling againſt his Servant, they were both thrown for⯑cibly on the Edge of the Boat, and oc⯑caſioned it to be ſo far overbalanced, as to be filled with Water. Apprehenſive [160] that the Boat would immediately ſink, Mr. L— jumped out, and was taken up without the leaſt Harm; but the Servant, ſtaying longer by the Boat, was drove further from the Bank, and being unable to ſwim, he unfortunately ſunk, before the Boat, which took up his Maſter, could reach him. They once or twice got a Pole under him, but could not ſave him. I did not ſee the firſt Part of the Misfortune, for I was not come out from Dinner, but arrived Time enough to ſee Mr. L— taken up, and the poor Man loſt.
I have gratified your Curioſity, but you need not tell the Story out of your Family. There is ſomething very ſhocking in the Idea of a poor Creature being ſnatched [161] thus from Life, in an Inſtant, and, as Shakeſpeare ſays, ‘With all his Imperfections on his Head,’ and Calamities like theſe ſhould ſerve as a Warning to us all, to lead ſuch Lives, as might beſt enable us to meet ſuch. Deaths, if called on.
I Have juſt now received yours of the 26th. Some Miſtakes have happened between us about Dates, which we can⯑not [162] eaſily ſettle, I find, and ſome Miſ⯑carriages in the Poſt, which we cannot repair; therefore I do not hold it worth our while to enter into a Diſcuſſion about them. Time ill-employed is worse than Time unemployed, and the laſt is bad enough in all Conſcience.
The entire Occaſion of my writing juſt now is to tell you that I go into the Country, to Tew, to-morrow early, and ſhall not return for two or three Days. When I do, I ſhall ſend you Horace and Longinus. You are probably thinking of their Arrival now; I therefore hold it neceſſary to make an Apology for not gra⯑tifying the Expectation I have raiſed. It is, in ſome Degree, like not paying a Debt which we have voluntarily con⯑tracted.
[163]You promiſed to read thoſe Books in the Holy Scriptures, and the Apocrypha, which I recommended, and to let me have your Thoughts of them. Why do you not ſo employ yourſelf now, and write your Thoughts at your Leiſure? When you get Horace and Longinus, there will be a new Subject of Correſpondence. But I do not deſire to hurry you. Write, when you find the Spirit of writing upon you, that is, when you find yourſelf beſt inclined to it.
JUST now I have the Pleaſure of yours. I have been hurried ever ſince I wrote you laſt. I am this Even⯑ing returned to Town, and muſt leave it again early to-morrow Morning.
My preſent Buſineſs occaſions a ſecond Diſappointment in the Books I promiſed. They cannot come till I return; but, believe me, you ſhould not wait ſo long for them, if it were in my Power to prevent it. I have known People who made a Point of baulking young Folks [165] of Preſents and Enjoyments that had been promiſed them, from a prudent Deſign (as they termed it) of inuring them early to Diſappointments. I hold it the moſt dangerous Way of proceed⯑ing in the World. Beſide that it will never anſwer the End propoſed (for it will be much more likely the Temper ſhould be hurt than improved by it) it is practiſing Cunning and low Artifice with them; ſetting them a bad Exam⯑ple; for as ſoon as they are old enough to diſcover the Means you uſe, they will be induced to practiſe the ſame with you, and endeavour to counteract one Craft by another. Hence they are early ſe⯑duced from the firſt great Principle of Goodneſs, Truth, and by Degrees all that is open and ingenuous in the Mind [166] may be quenched, ere they know the Value of it.
If I return on Tueſday, your Books ſhall be ſent on Wedneſday; if I do not, you cannot have them till Friday. Wait with Patience till then, and I think you need not wait longer. I be⯑lieve Longinus will give you great Satiſ⯑faction. Our Correſpondence about Books, and Obſervations on them, has been long interrupted. I care not now how ſoon it is reſumed; but it ſhall be at your own Choice. I will not hurry you.
I have one Letter more to write about Dr. Swift's Genius, and then I have en⯑tirely done with that Subject. I promiſed, [167] 'tis true, to let you have what Horace [...]ays of the Iliad and Odyſſey, but as I am [...]o ſend you the Book itſelf, that Promiſe [...]s ſuperſeded.
I wiſh, for your Sake, that the Tranſ⯑lation were better, or that you under⯑ſtood the Original; I will however aſſiſt you as far as I am able, and, in my next Letter, point out ſome Places, to which I would have you particularly attend.
THREE Lines to inform my deareſt Nancy that I am juſt returned from Tew with Dr. King; where I have ſtaid, at leaſt, one Day longer than I expected. I am juſt Time enough to keep my laſt Promiſe. You may ſend to the Black Bull in Holborn, at the Time I men⯑tioned, and the Meſſenger will find a little Box addreſſed to you, containing my Pro⯑miſe, and an Author or two over and above, by way of Intereſt, for the Prin⯑cipal having been ſo long due.
[169]I want to read Longinus myſelf, and to compare it and the Notes with another Edition which I had deſigned for you, but I would not longer delay. I have, I think, ſent you the beſt. I have no more to ſay at preſent, only that I wiſh to hear from you; but that at your Lei⯑ſure.
We ſhall now begin to correſpond in earneſt again. This Interval of Relaxa⯑tion may have its Uſe. We ſhall return to more intenſe Studies with greater Spirit.
YOU have now received the Books. Longinus is a moſt admirable Au⯑thor, but he will require a deep Atten⯑tion in reading. I adviſe you to obſerve the Notes as you go along; not leave them till laſt. When you have made yourſelf Miſtreſs of them, read the Book through again. This will give you a very competent Knowledge of him, and your Pleaſure will be increaſed in Pro⯑portion. A real good Author, you know, like a real good. Man, improves on our [171] Acquaintance. Your own Judgment will ſuggeſt to you the moſt uſeful and remarkable Places; however, I recom⯑mend the 8th, 14th, 17th, 34th, and the two laſt Chapters. You will give me your Opinion of the whole, in due Time. When you enter upon Horace, you muſt make great Allowance for the Stile, the Meaſure of his Verſe, and yet more for the weak Expreſſion in which the origi⯑nal Senſe and Meaning is given.
This Minute yours of the 9th. Never delay writing, becauſe Franks are want⯑ing. I hold ſuch a Conſideration un⯑worthy to be put in Balance with a Let⯑ter from a Friend. Poſtage is cheap enough; and your Correſpondence is dear to me.
[172]I cannot ſay when I am to be in Lon⯑don. You will have another little Parcel ſoon, containing ſome Buckles and other Neceſſaries, which Mr. K— deſired me to procure for him. Pleaſe to ſend them to him, and he will remit the Price; I have adviſed him what the Amount is. Do me the Favour to accept it, for the Improvement of your little Library. Make ſuch Purchaſes as Fancy dictates; I will not direct or controul your Choice.
I am concerned for your Mama's Indiſpoſition. I beg to hear about her ſoon, but deſire nothing more from you. I would not be the Means of employ⯑ing a Minute of your Time now, which [173] is so eſſentially neceſſary to your Care and Attention to her.
I have little Leiſure at preſent; my next ſhall be longer. When you can return to our uſual Cuſtom, why may you not write me in French now and then? The Archbiſhop of Cambray's Dia⯑logues des Morts, &c. are excellent; com⯑poſed of very fine, eaſy, and familiar French. They deſerve to be read often.
I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 13th, and am glad to hear you got the Things ſafe, and that your good Mama is better. You have one of the greateſt Comforts and Bleſſings of this Life, a good Parent; and indeed you are one of the few young Folks who deſerve the Bleſſing, in-as-much as you are ſenſible of it, and, by your Conduct towards her, prove you are grateful for it. May it be long continued to you!
[175]I hold myſelf indebted to you for your ready Acceptance of my little Preſent; it was the moſt pleaſant and grateful Re⯑turn you could make me. There is a Delicacy neceſſary in accepting, as well as conferring a Kindneſs, which is nicely explained by our Shakeſpear. He makes Othello ſay to Iago, (who has ſworn to devote himſelf to his Service)
This Phraſe, bounteous Acceptance, is libe⯑ral beyond defining; it can only be felt. What is uſually called Taſte, conſiſts en⯑tirely in Feeling; and I am not clear that the latter Expreſſion would not be the moſt proper.
[176]I have no Doubt but you will ſoon get through Longinus, and all the Notes. I know your Expedition, therefore wiſh you to attack him a ſecond Time, be⯑fore you tranſmit me your Opinion. Let me likewiſe have your Thoughts on Ho⯑race, the Scriptures, and the Apocrypha, as you go on with them. I ſhall ſoon give my additional Letter of Obſervations on Swift's Mode of writing.
There is a little Publication, called Dialogues ſur l' Eloquence en general, et ſur celle de la Chair en particulier, avec une Lettre ecrite à l' Academie Francoiſe, by the Archbiſhop of Cambray. It is a moſt ex⯑cellent little Book, and I wiſh you would endeavour to get it. The Bookſeller in Clare-Court, I dare ſay, will find it for [177] you. Read it with the cloſeſt Atten⯑tion; it deſerves you ſhould, for it will aſſiſt you in a right Way of thinking and and judging.
The Duke of Hamilton is, or was lately, at Stockbridge in Hampſhire. I hope he will be ſoon in London. But why do you aſk?
The Tranſlations you ſpeak of may more properly be called Imitations than Tranſlations; and you will certainly find more Beauty in them, than in Creech, though they do not follow the Original ſo cloſe. I think therefore Creech ſhould be your firſt Object, by way of ground⯑ing yourſelf in the original Meaning of Horace, then turn to what you pleaſe; [178] in particular, to Pope's Imitations of ſome of his Epiſtles and Satires; they will charm you.
I hope to hear ſoon, and am,
ON Saturday laſt I ſent you a Letter by Dr. King's Servant, which I hope you have received ſafe.
For theſe three Months paſt, I have employed my ſpare Hours in reading ſuch [179] Authors as have wrote on Poetry; for Example, Horace, Boileau's and Vida's Art of Poetry, Pope's Eſſay on Criticiſm, the Duke of Buckingham's Eſſay on Poetry, and Lord Roſcommon's Eſſay on tranſlated Verſe. I have alſo been at the Pains to make Abſtracts from them all, and this for two Reaſons; firſt, to make the deeper Impreſſion on my Mind, ſecondly, to have them to recur to, on Occaſion.
As I ſaid once before, I would not have you ſet up for a Critic; but as Nature has implanted in you a Love and Taſte for reading, I could wiſh you, at this Leiſure-Time of your Life, to ac⯑quire as right a Judgment as you can of what you read, and be able to converſe upon it. But your own Diſcretion muſt [180] be your Monitor, not to let theſe Studies engage your Time and Attention, to the Neglect of ſuch domeſtic Qualifica⯑tions, as your Sex and Situation may hereafter demand.
I have ſent you a looſe Abſtract of the Duke of Buckingham's Eſſay, and, if you deſire them, will furniſh you with Abſtracts of the reſt. This may, at firſt View, appear an uſeleſs Trouble to one who has the Originals at Hand, but, in Fact, is not ſo; it may be of the ſame Uſe to you, that it was to me; and you will ſtill have a much ſtronger Impreſſion of any Rule or Paſſage, by writing your Remarks to me, or adding what is de⯑fective to mine; for, as I did them haſti⯑ly, [181] no Doubt, many Things want to be corrected.
Shall I give you a ſhort Character of the Authors I have named?
Horace is always allowed the firſt Place. Notwithſtanding he ſlides over Things in a ſhort, eaſy, careleſs Way, ſcarce ſeeming to obſerve any Order, yet he requires a great deal of Attention. Roſcommon's Tranſlation of him is good, though Oldham's looſe Manner gives us moſt Pleaſure. This Author has alſo been tranſlated by Ben Jonſon and ſeveral others.
Vida ſtands next. He does not med⯑dle with the different Kinds of Poetry, [182] only with Poetry in general, and chiefly applies what he ſays to the Epic. He is more full, regular, and methodical, than any of them. He points out how a Youth of Genius ſhould be trained in the Art of Poetry; and treats of many Things, which none of the others, whom I have named, have touched upon; all in ſuch excellent Verſe, and ſo ſuited to the Na⯑ture of his Subjects, that the Sound is in Reality "an Echo to the Senſe." The Original is in Latin. I am not certain whether he has been tranſlated, but will enquire; if he has, I will get him for you; but, at all Events, you muſt com⯑pound for the Loſs of his genuine Beauty.
[183] Boileau is very judicious; he takes in all Kinds of Poetry, and borrows a great deal from Horace, but is more metho⯑dical.
Pope's Eſſay on Criticiſm is a conſum⯑mate Piece; but it is ſo conciſe, that, like Horace, he demands cloſe Atten⯑tion. He borrows much from the three before-mentioned.
Roſcommon and the Duke of Bucking⯑ham are much ſhorter. They omit many Things which the others mention, but what they have written is finely executed. The Duke of Buckingham inſiſts moſt on Dramatic Writing. What he has ſaid, though imperfect, is very judicious, and his Lines are maſterly.
[184]On the whole, I have one Piece of Ad⯑vice for you; namely, that you would particularly obſerve what they have in common with each other. By this Means you will be neareſt to the right.
No more, till I hear from you, which I hope will be ſoon; but pray do not write, when you are in a Hurry.
I Have, on the other Leaf of this Let⯑ter, ſent you an Abſtract of Lord Roſ⯑common's Eſſay on tranſlated Verſe. If you [185] will let the Abſtract lye by you, while you go through the Work itſelf, it will aſſiſt you to diſtinguiſh one Rule from another, and implant them ſtill deeper in your Mind.
This Author will particularly define Tragedy and Comedy, and enable you to form a proper Judgment of them.
I need not obſerve to you that the firſt general Qualification neceſſary in all Kinds of Writing is good Senſe. The peculiar Ingredients requiſite for Tragedy are Terror and Pity, thoſe for Comedy are Wit and Humour. Corneille thought to bring a fourth into Tragedy, namely, Admiration; but it is not by any Means ſo eſſential as the former. It will ſome⯑times [186] have its Effect, and act very agree⯑ably on the Mind, but Terror and Pity always have been, and always will be, allowed the main Ingredients.
In like Manner, Wit and Humour are neceſſary to Comedy. The Prefe⯑rence between theſe is generally given to Humour, and I think very juſtly. If Humour is that peculiar Mode of think⯑ing, and of ſaying and doing Things, which ſome Perſons poſſeſs, and are thereby diſtinguiſhed from all others, then it muſt be the chief Ingredient in Comedy. Moſt People are endued with this Talent in a greater or leſs Degree; and it is not uncommon to ſee the Hap⯑pineſs or Unhappineſs of Life depend on this peculiar Caſt of Mind and of Be⯑haviour. [187] Congreve has an excellent Letter on Humour in Comedy. Pray read it.
Wit aſſuredly claims only the ſecond Place. Complaints have been made of too much Wit in ſome of our Co⯑medy-Writers, in Congreve, for Inſtance. If any one merits the Charge, he muſt be the Man; but I am afraid it is generally rather falſe Wit, or ſomething miſtaken for Wit, which is complained of. There are very few Authors, however, who can be arraigned of this Fault; though I have heard Terence and Wycherley in the Liſt with Congreve.
True Wit is hard to be defined. Some call it merely a Propriety of Thoughts and Words; but I think it rather is good [188] Senſe well expreſſed. Others term it an Aſſemblage of Ideas of very diſtinct and different Nature, yet capable of being ſolved into an agreeable and unexpected Likeneſs. Congreve's Compariſon of Re⯑ligion and Politics to Oil and Vinegar, is an Inſtance in Point. But I think this ra⯑ther a Species, than a Definition of Wit. In my Opinion, Wit conſiſts in an inge⯑nious Thought, cloathed in good Phraſe, expreſſed with Livelineſs, and creative of Pleaſure and Mirth*. If ſo, it is an Eſ⯑ſential to Comedy. It recommends and enforces our Sentiments, which, how⯑ſoever juſt or important they may be, [189] would otherwiſe too frequently, make very ſlight Impreſſions. Let us how⯑ever not forget that it is a dangerous Weapon in the Hands of a Fool, or a vicious Perſon; for falſe Sentiments and [...]ad Doctrine, thus ſeaſoned, might too generally prevail, and miſlead Perſons of very right Diſpoſitions. More in my next.
P. S. In reading the annexed Abſtract, [...]ou are to obſerve that many of the Au⯑thor's Rules and Obſervations will ſerve [...]or Poetry in general, as well as for [...]anſlated Verſe, as will thoſe of Mr. [190] Pope either for Poetry or Criticiſm. Lord Roſcommon has had Horace, Boileau, and Vida, in his Eye, but principally Vida;
A Comedy with too much Wit in it has been compared to a Suit of Cloaths, ſo richly embroidered, as to pre⯑vent the Ground-Work being ſeen. I think however it is oftner Tinſel, than Sterling, of which we complain.
It has been objected to Congreve, that his very Servants and low Characters are [191] witty. Why ſhould they not be ſo? Have we not ſeen ſuch in real Life, eſpecially thoſe who have acquired a little better Sort of Education; Jeremy in his Love for Love is deſcribed to have waited on a Gentleman at Cambridge; is there any Wonder ſuch a Servant ſhould be witty; or ſuch as are bred in or near London, or in the Neighbourhood of the Court? I do not ſee why they may not be as witty as their Betters, as they often are.
He is again charged with having writ⯑ten bad Engliſh. He does ſo ſometimes, but puts it in the Mouth of a low Cha⯑racter. He muſt be a weak Obſerver indeed, who cannot diſtinguiſh between the Character and the Author.
[192]Mr. Pope himſelf objects that Congreve's Fools are not Fools;
In my humble Opinion, Mr. Pope ſhould have conſidered that Congreve had de⯑clared, and juſtly, againſt bringing er⯑rant Fools on the Stage, that is, ſuch as are created ſo. Why, for what End bring Perſons there, who ought rather to be pitied than expoſed? We might as juſ⯑tifiably reduce deaf or dumb People to Ridicule, as ſuch Fools as theſe. Lord Rocheſter has an excellent Obſervation on this Head; he ſays, the Folly which de⯑ſerves to be expoſed, is procured
[193] meaning to imply that Coxcombry muſt proceed from Vanity, Pride, Affectation, or a wrong Taſte,
Congreve complains that his Witwou'd, in the Way of the World, was miſtaken by the Town for a True-Wit. The Er⯑ror was wholly theirs. His Judgment was too nice to ſuffer him to draw groſs Fools: his were of a refined Caſt, and were Men, who had the Appearance, at leaſt, of ſomething like Men of Senſe. Of this Sort are Tattle, Petulant, Witwou'd, and Briſk; though they are Fools enough at the Bottom; but nevertheleſs are ſuch to whom we ſhould rather give the Ap⯑pellation of Fops or Coxcombs.
[194]The Objection to Congreve, that his Fools are not Fools enough, is not half ſo bad as if they had been too much ſo. Surely the Town would not have wiſhed him to have brought either an Ideot or a Lunatick on the Stage. He has indeed brought a Counterfeit-Madman there, and Ben Johnſon a real Madman, (in his Comedy of Bartholomew Fair) but not with an Intent to expoſe either the one or the other. If we conſider the Con⯑duct of the Perſons I have named, from their firſt Entrance to the Time they leave the Stage, we ſhall find them Fools enough in all Conſcience. Petulant and Wit⯑wou'd, for Example, can ſeldom be aſun⯑der; they ſpeak ill of one another, when apart; they play at Snip Snap, and a rude Sort of bantering one another in Com⯑pany, [195] and even before Strangers. They affect a ſtrange Sort of Cant; there is a kind of Pertneſs in all they ſay; their Repartee is lively, but ſilly and unman⯑nerly; they get drunk, and come in that Pickle before their Miſtreſs; they fall into an abſurd Fit of wrangling, in which they both ſpeak rank Nonſenſe; they ſet up for being very ſevere upon the Ladies; they give up their Preten⯑ſions to Millamant with as little Reaſon as they formed them; in a Word, they are a Couple of Coxcombs, approaching towards Wit and Breeding, but in Truth having neither. Inſtead of good Senſe, polite Wit, and genteel Repartee, they have a ſort of rude Briſkneſs, and run the Rig, as the young Tem⯑plars, [196] and ſpruce Wits, call this Sort of joking.
This has diverted me from what I was going to ſay about Wit. I will de⯑fer it till my next.
P. S. Your Letter is juſt now arrived, but I have no Time to anſwer it till to-morrow.
I Thought to have purſued the Sub⯑ject of my laſt Letter two Days ago, but had not Time. I now proceed to enquire what Wit is, and when it may be uſed with Propriety.
Though I cannot give you a perfect Definition of Wit, (which perhaps is not to be done, the Word being ſo va⯑riouſly applied) yet I think we may de⯑fine in what Shape it generally appears. In the firſt Place, Wit, in my Opinion, [198] is good Senſe; or, at leaſt, it is founded in good Senſe, although there is ſome⯑thing more neceſſary to conſtitute it; for Example, Jocoſeneſs, Sprightlineſs, Ridi⯑cule; but above all, Aptneſs. The Time and Manner of applying it makes great Part of the Merit.
A good Pun paſſes for Wit, with ſome Folks, but I fear it is no Way al⯑lied to it. A wild Expreſſion carries the ſame Appearance with others, but if there be not ſomething ingenious in it as well as wild, I doubt it will never de⯑ſerve the Name of Wit.
Wit appears often in a ſmart Repar⯑tee, if made off-Hand; Impromptu's, [199] as the French call them. Theſe are very entertaining, provided a fair Occaſion of⯑fers, and the Perſon, who gives that Oc⯑caſion, deſerves the Smart. The Conver⯑ſation between Millamant and Marwood, in the Way of the World, is a lively In⯑ſtance hereof. The former retorts on the latter with Abundance of Wit, Humour, and Satire.
I will give you one Inſtance in a little Story where the Repartee was lively, and ſevere, and deſerved, and immediately took its Riſe from what had been ſaid.
The famous Judge Jefferies was notable at confounding and brow-beating Wit⯑neſſes, as they call it, eſpecially when [200] their Teſtimonies were not agreeable to him. An old reverend Man, with a great Beard, was giving Evidence before him, when Jefferies, in Hope to put him out of Countenance, ſaid, ‘If that Fel⯑low's Conſcience is as large as his Beard, he may ſwear what he pleaſes.’ The Witneſs, taking hold of his Beard, gravely replied, ‘Nay, my Lord, if you meaſure Conſciences by Beards, your Lordſhip has none at all.’
Thus introduced, Repartee ſurely me⯑rits to be called Wit, and is not only an agreeable, but an uſeful Talent; but when it is exerciſed againſt good-natured, inoffenſive People, or ſuch as are in Want or Affliction, it becomes deteſta⯑ble, [201] and rather deſerves the Name of Cru⯑elty. It is indeed as unmanly and cow⯑ardly in theſe Caſes, as it would be to aſſail with Violence one who had not a Weapon to defend himſelf, or if he had, who poſſeſſed neither Strength or Spirits to make Uſe of it. And yet many ſuch witty Fools are to be found, who chuſe to diſplay their Talents on any Subject, rather than loſe an Opportunity of ſhew⯑ing them*. One Comfort is, that they often feel the ill Effects themſelves; for Wit, improperly placed, is as apt to injure the Poſſeſſor, as a Gun, by recoiling, to [202] bruiſe an injudicious Shooter. Shall I illuſtrate this by another little Anecdote?
A certain noble Roman was ſtanding for one of their higheſt Offices; the Con⯑ſulſhip, I believe. The Election being popular, the Candidates were obliged to court the Freemen, as is practiſed in our Country at every Election for a Seat in Parliament. All the Voters were careſſ⯑ed. This Noble was ſhaking Hands with a poor labouring Man, and per⯑ceiving them to be very hard, "Friend," quoth he, with a Sneer, "doſt thou walk upon thy Hands?" The Man took the Witticiſm in Dudgeon, and had Reſent⯑ment and Intereſt enough to make the Noble loſe his Election.
[203]The famous Sir Thomas Sydenham, who was an extraordinary great Man in his Way, had ſo indifferent an Opinion of Wit, that he uſed to ſay, "There was almoſt as great a Difference between Wiſ⯑dom and Wit, as between Something and Nothing." Yet I cannot agree with him. Wit, properly managed and tem⯑pered, may be rendered (as I ſaid be⯑fore) an agreeable and uſeful Quality. We ſhould only take Care not to let it get the better of good Senſe, good Nature, good Humour, or good Man⯑ners.
I am about to ſend you a Book, which contains the Duke of Buckingham's and Lord Roſcommon's Poems, and the Arch⯑biſhop of Cambray's Reflections on Elo⯑quence. [204] Boileau's Art of Poetry, a Tranſ⯑lation from Vida, and the Abſtracts you deſire ſhall accompany them. Here⯑with you receive a Portion of Pope's Eſ⯑ſay on Criticiſm, but I wiſh you may be able to read it. It was written in a Hur⯑ry, and I have not preſent Leiſure to tranſcribe it afreſh.
P. S. I ſhall write again to-morrow, or Sunday, at fartheſt.
WIT deals occaſionally in various Fi⯑gures of Speech, for Example, in Metonymy and Metaphor. As you have now read Longinus, I need not ex⯑plain thoſe Figures here.
He had Wit, who firſt called uſeleſs Learning, learned Lumber. A very learn⯑ed Man has been termed a Magazine of Learning; but if that Learning be confuſed and indigeſted, they aptly ſay, his Head is a Lumber-Houſe of Learn⯑ing.
[206]Religious Enthuſiaſts pretend to, what they call, inward Light, as a Warrant to their Belief and Actions; whence Hudi⯑bras ſays, with great Wit,
intimating that their pretended Light, if it were uſeful at all, was not ſo to any but themſelves.
But Wit deals moſt in Similies; that is, in drawing Likeneſſes between Things of a different Nature; and the more ſurprizing and unexpected thoſe Like⯑neſſes are, and by how far the Things compared differ in their Kinds, by ſo much more is the Wit prized. There is one of this Kind in Hudibras, which [207] has been much admired, and often quoted. Speaking of People, who are truly loyal, even in Diſgrace and Afflic⯑tion, he ſays,
It is in Similies chiefly that moſt of our Poets, who deal in Wit, or pretend to it, have run Riot. What a Flood of them do we ſometimes meet in Dramatic, and other Writers, introduced and purſued, without Rhyme or Reaſon! Every thing talked of is "like this," or "like that." Except a Simile be exceedingly well hit off, it had better be unattempted. Me⯑tonymy and Metaphor (which are indeed [208] but concealed Similies) are, in my Opi⯑nion, an eaſier and genteeler Conveyance of our Ideas.
There is an admirable Sneer on theſe Strings of Similies, which ſome Authors are ſo fond of, in Swift's Introduction to The Tale of a Tub. "Wiſdom," ſays that admirable Writer, ‘is a Fox, who, after long hunting, will, at laſt, coſt you the Pains to dig out. It is a Cheeſe, which, by how much the richer, has the thicker, the homelier and the coarſer Coat; and whereof, to a judicious Palate, the Meggots are the beſt. It is a Sack-Poſſet, wherein the deeper you go, you will find it the ſweeter. Wiſdom is a Hen, whoſe Cackling we muſt value and conſider, [209] becauſe it is attended with an Egg. But then, laſtly, it is a Nut, which, unleſs you chuſe with Judgment, may coſt you a Tooth, and pay you with nothing but a Worm.’
Had Swift been in earneſt in theſe Similies, he would, at beſt, have appeared whimſically ridiculous; but, in-as-much as he meant them a Satire on Simile-Mongers in general, he is moſt unques⯑tionably witty; and the whole Air and Turn of the Introduction being facetious, nothing could be better ſuited to the Character of the Writer.
An Author ſhould therefore well con⯑fider, in whoſe Mouth to put his Simi⯑lies. That will do well for one Perſon, [210] which will, by no Means, ſuit another. I ſuppoſe Congreve's Compariſon of Re⯑ligion and Politics to Oil and Vinegar, to be as witty as ever was ſaid on any Occaſion; yet becauſe there is ſomething wild in it, he has properly put it into the Mouth of a Madman, at leaſt, a Cha⯑racter that appears ſo.
In the ſame Comedy, Jeremy contrives to beguile Tattle and Mrs. Frail into a Match with each other, when each was on the Hunt for a Fortune elſewhere. Ben, a rough Sailor, compares them hereon to a Couple of Privateers, who were looking out for a Prize, and fell foul of each other. This is admirably hu⯑morous and witty in itſelf, but derives double Beauty and Force from the Sailor's ſpeaking it.
[211]I ſhall conclude this Letter with a Tranſcript from the famous Mr. Locke, where he treats of the Difference between Wit and Judgment.
"If in having our Ideas in the Me⯑mory, ready at Hand, conſiſts Quickneſs of Parts, in this of having them uncon⯑fuſed, and being able nicely to diſtin⯑guiſh one Thing from another, where there is but the leaſt Difference, con⯑ſiſts, in a great Meaſure, the Exactneſs of Judgment and Clearneſs of Reaſon, which is to be obſerved in one Man, above another. And, perhaps, hence may be given ſome Reaſon of that common Ob⯑ſervation, that Men, who have a great deal of Wit and prompt Memories, have not always the cleareſt Judgment or [212] deepeſt Reaſon. For Wit lies moſt in the Aſſemblage of Ideas; and putting theſe together with Quickneſs and Variety, wherein can be found any Reſemblance and Congruity, thereby to make up pleaſant Pictures and agreeable Viſions in the Fancy. Judgment, on the con⯑trary, lies quite on the other Side, in ſeparating carefully, one from another, Ideas, wherein can be found the leaſt Difference, thereby to avoid being miſled by Similitude, and by Affinity to take one Thing for another.
"This is a Way of proceeding quite contrary to Metaphor and Alluſion; wherein, for the moſt Part, lies that Entertainment and Pleaſantry of Wit, [213] which ſtrikes ſo lively on the Fancy, and therefore ſo acceptable to all People, becauſe its Beauty appears at firſt Sight, and there is required no Labour of Thought to examine what Truth or Rea⯑ſon there is in it. The Mind, without looking any further, reſts ſatisfied with the Agreeableneſs of the Picture, and the Gaiety of the Fancy; and it is a kind of Affront to go about to examine it by the ſevere Rules of Truth and good Rea⯑ſon; whereby it appears that it conſiſts in ſomething that is not perfectly con⯑formable to them."
I would have you, my dear Nancy, con⯑ſider attentively this Diſtinction between Wit and Judgment. It is the beſt phi⯑loſophical [214] Account of them that ever I met; though perhaps this Definition does not reach to Wit in its utmoſt Extent, at leaſt, in the Senſe of the Word, as uſed at preſent, and thence comes it ſo hard to be defined or deſcribed. Mr. Locke himſelf ſeems indeed ſomewhat ſenſible of this, for he, you perceive, always ſpeaks with a ſort of Exception and Doubt, as, in a great Meaſure—perhaps —for the moſt part, &c. &c.
I believe I ſhall have ſomething more for you on this Subject the next Time I write, and then I ſhall quit it.
I have beſpoke Vida for you in Engliſh, and all Pope's Epiſtles in Verſe, among which are his Imitations from Horace. [215] They ſhall come with the Books I men⯑tioned in my laſt.
I Received yours of the 30th of laſt Month, with which I am very well pleaſed. I hope you have received one from me dated on the ſame Day with yours. In my laſt I exhauſted almoſt every thing I had to ſay on the Topic [216] of Wit and Humour; I ſhall only add, that, after all that can be ſaid of them, they can only be conſidered as the Sea⯑ſoning of Comedy. The great Standard of all is good Senſe, with Diſcernment, Judgment, and a thorough Knowledge of Mankind.
Theſe muſt appear in the Plot, Con⯑ſtruction, and Conduct of a Play; in the Sentiments; in the Manners; in the Characters; and in the Propriety of the Diction: our Vices, our Affections, and Paſſions; our Humours, Weakneſſes, and Follies, as well as their Contraries, ought to be well underſtood, coloured, and expreſſed. Then all are to be ſea⯑ſoned with Wit and Humour, in an eaſy and juſt Manner.
[217]As for the Unities of Action, Time, and Place, which the Antients inſiſt upon ſo ſtrongly, eſpecially that of Action, the beſt that can be ſaid in their Behalf (in my Opinion) is, that it is better to have them, than be without them; for a Play, if it is not good in itſelf, will not become ſo, for the Unities being ever ſo religi⯑ouſly obſerved. We have many Plays extant, where they are all kept to the utmoſt Nicety, and yet the Pieces alto⯑gether are not worth a Peruſal.
There are alſo Dramatic Productions, wherein the Rules are wholly ſet aſide, which are the Admiration of every Reader of the moſt refined Taſte. Our inimitable Shakeſpeare ſtands an Example of this, againſt all the cold Obſervers of Accura⯑cy, that ever did, or ever will exiſt.
[218]Pray read what Longinus ſays of Plato and Lyſias, Demoſthenes and Hyperides, Ion and Sophocles.
As you have Horace's Art of Poetry, I ſhall ſend you an Abſtract of it in my next, which I could wiſh you would compare carefully with the Poem itſelf, as you go through it.
I hope to hear from you ſoon. I have no Time for a longer Letter at preſent. My moſt humble Service to your Mama and Aunt.
I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 6th, and am pleaſed with it. You enter into the Subject ſpiritedly, and your Remarks are juſt.
I have collected all your Books; name⯑ly, Roſcommon's and Buckingham's Eſſays, Boileau, Vida, Pope's Epiſtles from Ho⯑race, &c. (Theſe laſt are ſent to be new-bound) and the Arch-Biſhop of Cambray on Eloquence. As theſe, together with Ariſtotle's Art of Poetry, and Longinus [220] which you have already, will give yo juſt Ideas and form your Taſte, ſo Le-Faucheur will give you a right No⯑tion of Pronunciation. He is ſaid to be the beſt who ever wrote on that Point. He is greatly commended by thoſe two famous Men Bayle and Le Clerc. I have got him for you in Engliſh, but I could not get him in French. It ſeems the Tranſlator did not know who wrote the Original, but I well know it was Le-Faucheur. I think you ought to conſider him well.
Ariſtotle may, perhaps, ſeem ſome⯑what hard and tedious, at firſt, but he is worth much Time and Labour. He is the great Original that all the Reſt have followed. Uſe your Patience, but [221] if, on ſuch Trial, you find him require too much Attention, lay him aſide, till you become a little older. Whenever you are acquainted with him, you will find him the true Maſter of true Cri⯑ticiſm.
All theſe Books ſhall be ſent you one Day this Week, and you ſhall have previous Notice. I have ſome Buſineſs, which will engage me for two Days, ſo you may not hear from me till Wedneſday or Thurſday next.
My humble Service to your Mama and Aunt.
I Have juſt now received yours of the 14th, I have a troubleſome and te⯑dious Job on my Hands, yet I will ſet it aſide a Moment to anſwer your Queſ⯑tion about Terence.
The Senſe, the Conduct, Characters, Sentiments and Diction of this Author (I am ſpeaking of the Original) are wonderfully fine; but the great Julius Caeſar complained that he wanted the Vis Comica, that is, (tranſlated literally) [223] the comic Force or Strength. I preſume Caeſar meant Humour; and in that he aſſuredly fell infinitely ſhort of Plautus, who alone is the other comic Poet of Rome that is left us.
I am entirely of your Opinion in Regard to the two Plays you mention. The Squire of Alſatia is a Diſgrace to the Drama, to Letters, common Senſe, and common Decency, and yet there have been Audiences found to encou⯑rage the Repreſentation.
The Hint of the Plain Dealer is evi⯑dently taken from the Miſantrope of Mo⯑liere, but there is a great Exception to this Comedy, in Point of Decorum; which is to be much lamented when we [224] conſider the vaſt Fund of Wit, wherewith it abounds.
You will have all your Books by Bew's Coach on Wedneſday next. My Service at Home.
I Have ſent the Books according to Promiſe.
Herewith you have a ſhort Abſtract of Vida's Art of Poetry. If any Part [225] appears unintelligible, the Poem itſelf will clear it up. To that I refer you. I have already given my Reaſons, why I ſend Extracts from a Poem, which you have at Hand.
I will be more particular as to thoſe Reaſons, that you may be very clear in my Meaning—
You may, perhaps, think that I might have ſpared myſelf the Pains of tranſcribing, and you the Pains of reading theſe Abſtracts. But, in my Opinion, they will be of ſome, and even of more Uſe than if you had not the Books. All the Heads are but ſhort Hints and Items, which would be of little Service without the Authors, at [226] large. The Authors explain and en⯑force what is in my little Abridg⯑ments, and thoſe very Abridgments impreſs deeper in your Mind what the Author has ſaid. They reciprocally aid each other. The Abſtracts ſerve yet further to ſort the different Heads and Precepts, and to range them in order; ſo that you may thereby obtain a diſtinct and well-diſpoſed View of them all at once.
You ſhall next have an Abſtract from Boileau. Theſe are all to be read with great Care; and I muſt warn you that there are ſeveral Errors in the Printing, eſpecially in Pope's Epiſtles, and in the Eſſays of Buckingham and [227] Roſcommon. Thoſe you muſt notice, and correct, as they occur.
Faucheur is an excellent Book. As I told you formerly, I am not for your ſetting up for a Critick, but I would have you attain to a juſt Idea of the Nature and Excellencies of fine Writ⯑ting, and to form a right Judgment; towards which it is with great Plea⯑ſure that I contribute, from time to time, ſuch Aſſiſtance as lies within my poor Ability. Write to me on Receipt of the Box.
I am, with Service to your Mama and Aunt,
P. S. Although Vida treats only of the Epic Poem, he has many uſeful Rules, which are applicable to every other Species of Poetry.
I Hope you have received your Books ſafe, and found the Letter which was with them in the Box.
I here ſend you an Abſtract of Boileau's Art of Poetry, as I did of Vida there. I have two or three Things to recommend to you in reading theſe Authors.
[229]In the firſt Place, you ſhould con⯑ſider the great Rules, on which the Reſt depend, and which are laid down by all, or, at leaſt, the major Part of theſe Critics. Theſe great Rules may be thus comprehended;
Good Senſe is the Foundation of all good Writing.
In the next Place, obſerve ſuch Rules as are in few, or but in one of theſe Authors. Theſe are more likely to eſcape your View, and therefore ſhould be more carefully ſearched for, and attended to.
[228][230]You should not run over theſe Rules careleſſly, and in a curſory Manner, but deliberately, both with Attention and Application.
Sometimes reflect, at Leiſure, upon one Rule or Head, ſometimes upon another, and endeavour to account to yourſelf for the Reaſon of ſuch Rule. If you cannot clearly ſatisfy yourſelf, aſk ſome Perſon, or write to me. It may be no unprofitable, nor unpleaſant Diverſion to enter on a Diſquiſition of that Kind.
One Caution, by the Bye. Do not load your Head with all theſe Rules lumbered together in a confuſed, indi⯑geſted Heap, but ſtrive to underſtand them clearly and minutely by a pa⯑tient, [231] and leiſurely Attention, and you will reap the Fruit of them in due Time.
When you cannot ſee quite through the Reaſon of any Propoſition, and yet are deſirous to account for it by your⯑ſelf, rather ſuſpend your Search, than re⯑main content with a poor imperfect So⯑lution of the Difficulty; of all Things, never reſt ſatisfied with Abſurdities, which many Perſons are too apt to do, ſome from Overſight, ſome from, mere Lazi⯑neſs. Such Errors are attended with a double Diſadvantage. In the firſt In⯑ſtance, no Progreſs is made, in our Stu⯑dies; in the next, the Time is loſt, which might have been employed to ſome Pur⯑poſe.
[232]The Books, which I have ſent you, have, I believe, many Errata, or Miſ-Printings in them; a due Obſervation of the Advice given above, will not only enable you to diſcover thoſe, but alſo to ſupply the true Meaning of the Author.
Remember that, next to Epic Poetry, Tragedy and Comedy are the great Spe⯑cies of Writing. Tragedy indeed is it⯑ſelf a Species of the Epic. I do not re⯑commend them to you merely that you ſhould read Plays, (according to the Ac⯑ceptation of diſſipated People, who paſs, or rather waſte an idle Hour, over what they neither comprehend nor retain) but as moral Treatiſes; for no dramatic Works, but what have this Tendency, [233] anſwer the Ends they were deſigned for, or are worth your Attention.
I could wiſh you would improve your⯑ſelf in reading; it is a nice Art, and known but to few. You promiſe, I think, to excel in it. When engaged in a Poem, you would do well to repeat aloud ſometimes. It is of Service to the Breath, if not done to Exceſs, and will be of great Uſe; for many Errors will be diſcovered by the Ear, that are come at by no other Means. For the Rules of Pronunciation, Le Faucheur is the beſt Inſtructor extant among the Mo⯑derns.
But all theſe Rules, however well un⯑derſtood, will be of ſmall Uſe, without [234] knowing the great Models from which theſe Rules are drawn; you ſhould there⯑fore read the beſt Authors in the different Sorts of Poetry.
The Antients lay down theſe three Things neceſſary to perfect us in any Sci⯑ence; firſt, ‘Art—that is, Precept or Rule;’
Imitation— that is, an Endeavour to ſtudy the beſt Models, and follow their Manner; and, ‘Exercitation—namely, Practice.’
Vida, as you may obſerve, is the moſt regular of all theſe Eſſayiſts. His firſt Book is on ‘[235]Invention, or the Proviſion of Matter;’ the next is
The Diſpoſition, or Well-ordering of that Matter;
the third is
The Beautifying and Adorning of that Matter.
Theſe are the three great Points to be obſerved not only in Poetry, but in Ora⯑tory; and in almoſt every Art and Sci⯑ence, as Painting, Sculpture, Building, &c.
I Received yours of the 22d, and an⯑ſwered it forthwith, but have kept the Anſwer by me, having been in hourly Expectation of a Recruit of Franks, and they are but now arrived. You have neglected to notice one or two Circum⯑ſtances, which I enquired about. I wiſh you would always place the Letter be⯑fore you, which you are about to anſwer, and anſwer Correſpondents as ſoon as you can after you hear from them. What you thus ſay while the Feelings are [237] and lively, though contained in ſix Lines alone, is worth a whole Vo⯑lume, that is damped by the Coldneſs of Delay.
I never read Cleveland, but am told it is an excellent Book, and ſhews les Plis et les Replis de Coeur humain very agreeably and accurately.
I think you ſhould read Vida firſt very carefully; then Horace; next to him Boi⯑leau; then Pope's Criticiſm, Buckingham, and Roſcommon, progreſſively. The Arch⯑bishop of Cambray and Le-Faucheur, may come in laſt.
Such Particulars as are treated by more than one of them, ought to be compared, after you have gone through the Au⯑thors. [238] For Example, I would have you collect and compare all they have ſaid upon Epic Poetry together; upon Ode, Satire, Tragedy, and Comedy; and when you have Leiſure, write a ſort of Abridg⯑ment of them, for your own Uſe.
You ſhould make yourſelf a perfect Miſtreſs of the principal Figures of Speech; ſuch as Metaphor, Simile, Al⯑legory, Metonymy, Irony, &c. Con⯑greve's Letter on Humour is a moſt ad⯑mirable Piece. The Preface, or Intro⯑tion to Joſeph Andrews, about Ridicule, is well worth conſidering. Fielding is an excellent Judge of Nature and Mankind. Congreve's Epiſtle to Sir Richard Temple, on Affectation, and another, under the Name of Cobham, are equally excellent.
[239]I am heartily ſorry you do not under⯑ſtand Latin, on many Accounts; among the reſt, that you cannot read Vida in the Original. Though the Tranſlation muſt be allowed pretty good, yet there is no coming up to the Beauties of the Author's Lines.
If I miſtake not, Cleveland is a Ro⯑mance; there may, perhaps, be ſome Truth in it; but I never read nor heard of a natural Son of Cromwell's under that Name, which, had the Story been true, muſt have been known long before now.
I Received yours of the 27th in due Courſe. I have written to you on ſo many Subjects, that I am almoſt ex⯑hauſted; and latterly you have not entered into what I have ſaid ſufficiently to give me a Handle for proceeding. It is true, I cannot but admit your Excuſe, in Part, to wit, your having ſo much to do during your Mother's Indiſpoſition. Your At⯑tion to her muſt create you full Employ⯑ment, and you are right not to let any Conſideration interrupt that pious Care. [241] I moſt heartily acquit you from the Uſe of Pen and Ink, till you are at better Leiſure, and will, in the mean Time, endeavour to give you Amuſement.
I thought to have ſaid ſomething about Figures in Writing, but you now have Longinus and Vida, who explain them much better than I can.
In a Letter I wrote you lately, I ob⯑ſerved there is a great deal of Satire in true Comedy. I have now to add, that there is a great deal of Irony in Satire. This is a very extenſive Figure, and con⯑verts itſelf into many Shapes. Sometimes it is direct, pointed, and ſharp; ſome⯑times it appears in the Shape of Praiſe. It occaſionally counterfeits Love, Pity, [242] Fear, in ſhort, what not? Sometimes it lurks in Metaphor, Allegory, Compari⯑ſon, Fable, &c. Dr. Swift has varied it ſo many Ways, and all ſo naturally and pleaſantly, that the Study of his Works, eſpecially The Tale of a Tub, and the Pieces bound up with it, gives us a bet⯑ter Idea of true Irony, in all its Branches, than any Deſcription is capable of af⯑fording.
The Tale of a Tub has repreſented the Fopperies and Abſurdities of the Roman Catholic Tenets more glaringly than the graveſt Diſcourſe in the World could have done, and that under a Story taken from common Life. In that Author's other Works, he has expoſed an hundred Fol⯑lies in ſo droll a Manner, that they ſtrike [243] us in that Way beyond the Power of the moſt ſolemn Eſſay or Declamation. How has he expoſed all Kinds and Degrees of Vain-Glory and Affectation, by imi⯑tating the very Fault he is expoſing! In how contemptible and juſt a Light has he placed the Cuſtom of punning, of talking always proverbially, and all idle Diſcourſe, in his Polite Converſation! In ſhort, it is needleſs to ſay more than that the whole Art of Ridicule is to be learned from Swift.
The only Addition I have to make to this Subject, is to quote you one Inſtance of Irony from the Holy Scriptures, which I think as ſtrong and as juſt as any I ever read. It is in Ridicule of the Prieſts of Baal, who was a falſe God; an Idol, [244] and no more. His Prieſts invoked him to perform a Miracle. Elijah mocketh them. The Reaſons which he aſſigns for their God not anſwering their Interceſ⯑ſions, are the ſevereſt Piece of Raillery imaginable.
"Cry aloud," ſays he, ‘for he is a God; either he is talking, or he is purſuing, or he is on a Journey; or, peradventure he ſleepeth, and muſt be awaked.’
All which Charges being ſo unworthy of a God, the Raillery is conceived, in its full Force, the Moment the Prophet opens his Mouth, and muſt be under⯑ſtood by the moſt ordinary Capacity. The whole Chapter is worth your read⯑ing. [245] It is the 18th of the firſt Book of Kings.
I do not recollect if I ever mentioned to you the 58th Chapter of Iſaiah. If I did, you have not noticed it in any of your Letters; if I did not, I now re⯑commend it to you. It is admirable, as far as reſpects the Subject itſelf; but the Diſpoſition of the Chapter, the Repeti⯑tions, the Emphaſis and Energy, and the many Figures introduced, make it admirably worth your Notice. The Chap⯑ter is ſtill more excellent, in-as-much as it is full of ſtrong Figures, yet appears exceedingly ſimple and plain. This is the great Beauty of Diction, when the Figures are ſo naturally brought in, that [246] we feel their Effect, before we perceive them. They ſtrike unſeen.
Dryden ſays, ‘Figures ought to be worked into a Diſcourſe, as if they were Part of the Tiſſue itſelf, not em⯑boſſed upon it.’
The Alluſion is excellent, and the Ob⯑ſervation juſt.
I Have yours of the third of this Month. You have not yet entered into any of the late Subjects I wrote to you about, but your former Excuſe, I preſume, ſtill exiſts, and it is too ſtrong to be op⯑poſed.
It is not material whether you ever read Polite Converſation again or no; the Moral of that Satire is too obvious to re⯑quire much Attention, it being deſigned only to ridicule the inſipid Converſation [248] that paſſes too ordinarily among the moſt faſhionable People. And can it well be wondered at, when ſo little Attention is paid to the Education of Children, whether Male or Female, in higher Life? To qualify them for Company (ſuch is the faſhionable Phraſe) is the chief Object of Parents in that Style; that is, to make a Bow, dance a Minuet, and play at Cards. The two firſt I acknowledge to be agreeable, and even neceſſary Quali⯑fications, provided they are accompanied with ſomething intrinſic. But while ſo much Care is employed in gracing the Outſide, ſurely ſome little might be uſed in cultivating the Mind. Perhaps Maſter is ſent to ſome public Seminary, and Miſs to a Boarding-School; at both which Places, I am ſorry to ſay, the moral Part [249] of Education is the laſt attended to, if it be at all. They are quickly launched into Life (poor Souls!) and poſſibly to the moſt important State of Life, Matri⯑mony, (as Family-Purpoſes and Intereſts lead, or rather, too often miſlead) with⯑out a ſingle Idea to bleſſ themſelves with, or even knowing that there is ſuch a Thing as a Mind to inſpire and regulate their earthly Compoſition.
The Reaſon for calling The Tale of a Tub by that Name, is, I think, pretty plain. We call any idle, romantic Story, A Tale of a Tub, and if this Story of Swift's were to be taken in a literal Senſe, none ever more juſtly deſerved the Name.
[248][250]I would have you look often on the Abſtract of Vida, while you are reading him. Beſides the Beauty of his Stile, the Worth, Weight, and Importance of his Subject, beſides theſe I ſay, the Order, Diſpoſition, and Method of his Poem, is admirable; preferable, in my Opinion, to all the reſt.
You ſhould read Boileau with great Care, and make the ſame Uſe of your Abſtracts with them all. Have you yet got a thorough Conception of the prin⯑cipal Figures in Rhetoric and Poetry, the chief, I mean, which I pointed out to you? I hope to have an Anſwer to this Queſtion ſoon, and your Obſerva⯑tions on thoſe Paſſages in the Holy Scrip⯑tures which I recommended. Your Let⯑ters [251] are always acceptable and entertain⯑ing, my dear Nancy, to
P. S. I wiſh you would mention the Dates of my Letters, when you acknow⯑ledge the Receipt of them.
I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 10th. You ſay there are ſome Fi⯑gures, which you do not, in any wiſe, underſtand. Add to Longinus, Vida's Diſcourſe on this Point, in his third [252] Book, and you muſt acquire a due No⯑tion of the principal Figures or Tropes, both in Poetry and Rhetoric. Metaphor is the chief of all; and even the princi⯑pal Figures, next to Metaphor, are but Species or Branches of it.
A Metaphor is the Uſe of a Word in a borrowed Senſe. The principal Pro⯑perties and Uſes of it, are,
Firſt, to expreſs Things for which we have not ſuitable Words or Phraſes;
Secondly, to expreſs them ſo ſtrongly, as to convey deep and agreeable Im⯑preſſions;
Thirdly, to give us the Repreſentation and Reſemblance of two Things at once.
[253]In ſhort, it is like a Picture, where the Reſemblance to the Thing painted gives us the chief Pleaſure.
Near the Beginning of the third Book of Vida's Art of Poetry, there is this glo⯑rious Deſcription of Metaphor:
[254] After producing ſome beautiful Inſtan⯑ces where the Metaphor is thus happily introduced, he proceeds, and illuſtrates his Sentiment with a Simile, which deſerves our higheſt Admiration;
[255]We have no adequate Words in our Language to expreſs the Intenſeneſs of Love, or the Extravagance of any vio⯑lent Paſſions; for which Reaſon it is very common to make uſe of Metaphor in our uſual Diſcourſe; for Example, we burn with Love—we are inflamed with Rage, &c. We ſay of a Man who is of a kind Diſpoſition, that he has a warm Heart, of one otherwiſe diſpoſed, that he has a cold, or a hard Heart. We melt into Tears; we ſink with Grief; we ſwell with Anger; our Hearts leap with Joy; we die with Fear; and ſo on. Virgil, deſcribing Dido concealing her Love, ſays, ‘She feeds within her Veins a Flame unſeen.’
[256]In the Holy Scriptures theſe metapho⯑rical Expreſſions are frequently met. God hides his Face, or ſhines upon us, viz.
Hide thy Face from my Sins, and blot out all my Miſdeeds.
Let thy Mercy ſhine upon us!
Lift up the Light of thy Countenance upon us.
In other Inſtances, where we uſe Me⯑taphors to expreſs Things with more Strength, and make a deeper Impreſſion, for a dull Diſcourſe, we ſay a cold, life⯑leſs Diſcourſe. A Poet, inſtead of tell⯑ing us, the Side-Board was filled with Plate, ſays, ‘The Side-Board groan'd with Plate.’
[257]Metaphor is ſometimes uſed to bring the Thing, from which it is borrowed, before our Eyes, that we may enjoy the Beauty of the Similitude. Cowley ſays, ‘The beechen Bowl foams with a Flood of Wine;’ and Pope, ‘A Tide of Trojans flow, and fill the Place.’ What a beautiful Reſemblance is this! It not only preſents us with the Idea of a great Crowd breaking into an Intrench⯑ment, but likewiſe with that of a raging Sea breaking over its Banks; and to add to both, conveys the perfect Reſemblance which each bears to the other.
Sometimes the Metaphor of a Meta⯑phor is made uſe of; for Example, we [258] uſually call a dull Preacher a heavy Preach⯑er. Pope carries this Word heavy, which in itſelf is a Metaphor, to a Metaphor be⯑yond it, where he ſays, in his new Dunciad, — — — leaden Gilbert preach'd. Heavy is a metaphorical Expreſſion for dull, and leaden for heavy.
I will trouble you no further, till I know whether you chuſe I ſhould thus proceed to perfect you in the Knowledge of Figures; if you do, I ſhall bring you acquainted with the reſt of the metapho⯑rical Family, their Relations, and De⯑ſcendants.
P. S. I know you will drink my Health to-morrow.
YOU cannot conceive how much you have pleaſed me, in ſubmitting to ſo unentertaining a Subject for a Letter, rather than be without Inſtruc⯑tion. It is but undergoing a little diſ⯑agreeable Labour now, to reap the Plea⯑ſure hereafter; for that you certainly will; and without a thorough Knowledge of the Grounds of Rhetorick, the moſt elegant Author or Orator can never take a proper Poſſeſſion of you.
[260]You aſk, in your laſt, about Polyp⯑totes, and Gradations; I ſhall therefore make them the Subject of this Letter.
Their ordinary Names are Polyptoton, and Climax, which are both Greek Words. I need not here inſert what Longinus ſays of them, but refer you to him. I ſhall only obſerve that, beſide the Subſtitution of one Number or Tenſe for another, (which is the Polyptoton) or rather the Licence of ſo doing, there is often great Beauty in it; eſpecially in the Greek and Latin Languages, and chiefly in the former, owing to the Variety of Terminations in their Verbs and Nouns. The French Lan⯑guage too exceeds ours in this parti⯑cular, [261] though it falls very ſhort of the other two.
That you may clearly underſtand what I mean, take the following Example in French.
Do you not here perceive a beautiful Variety in the Perſons and Tenſes? Take the ſame in Engliſh, and you will diſ⯑cover a total Want of it.
Here you ſee nothing but love and loved all along, and this, I preſume, explains what I mean.
The Climax is a noble and beau⯑tiful Figure, when managed with⯑out Affectation. We aſcend from one Step to another, building, as it were, ſomething on ſomething laid down be⯑fore, till we come to the great Point, at which we aim. I will give you two Inſtances, one on a ludicrous, the other on a ſolemn Subject. How excellently is the Tumult and Confuſion increaſed in the Poem of the Alley, (which I ſent you ſome Time ſince) from a Girl's Whim⯑pering [263] to a Boy's roaring, Dogs barking, Vixens ſcolding, and Swine grunting! Again, How beautiful is the Gradation of Diſtreſs in Congreve's Paſtora!
This Figure, you may obſerve by the foregoing Example, is generally accom⯑panied by Repetition. I will add one more Inſtance from the great Tillotſon, not only to illuſtrate this Figure, (which indeed it does to an Excellency) but alſo [264] for the Beauty, Juſtneſs, and Utility of the Obſervation.
You will obſerve that this great Maſter of Eloquence avoids repeating the ſame Word too literally, but uſes a Sort of Variation, to give a greater Beauty to [265] his Diſcourſe, and to avoid ſeeming af⯑fected, to which Cenſure an exact Re⯑petition would probably have expoſed him.
The Omiſſion of Copulatives adds much Grace to a Diſcourſe, on ſome Occaſions, particularly in Haſte or Paſſion; for Inſtance, Go—run—fly—be quick, &c. and on others, great Beauty is derived from their being multiplied. The Quo⯑tation, I have already made from the Arch-Biſhop, wherein the Word and is found no leſs than ſix Times, renders it unneceſſary to ſeek further for an Ex⯑ample.
I may probably take another Oppor⯑tunity to enlarge ſomewhat further on [266] theſe two oppoſite Figures. I hope to ſee you about Chriſtmas.
P. S. After finiſhing the above, my Dear, yours of Yeſterday came to Hand, and is there anſwered. I thank God, I am very well, and drank your Health, your Mama's and Aunt's on the four⯑teenth, as you did mine. Your Letter gives me much Pleaſure.
Encore, adios! ma chere.
AS you now underſtand a Meta⯑phor, I ſhall ſay no more on that Head, but conſider the Figures, which [267] are near a-kin to it. Theſe are, Meto⯑nymy, Synecdoche, Hyperbole, Irony, Simile, Allegory, Fable, and Cata⯑chreſis.
Before I proceed, let me tranſcribe a Paſſage out of Blackwell's new Intro⯑duction to the Claſſics, with a little Ad⯑dition. You may get Acquaintance with this odd Family, through his Means, I dare ſay. He is intimate with them.
There is a general Analogy and Re⯑lationſhip between all Tropes; and in all of them we uſe a foreign or ſtrange Word, inſtead of one that is proper. Hence we ſometimes ſay one Thing, and mean another quite different; but this is not always the Cafe. Theſe [268] Tropes, like other Relations in Life, are ſome nearer, ſome farther removed.
When we advance one Thing, and then ſay ſome other, which has a near Affinity to it, it is a Synecdoche.
When we ſay one Thing, and mean another mutually depending, it is a Metonymy.
When we ſay one Thing, and mean the very oppoſite, it is Irony.
When we ſay one Thing, and mean another like to it, it is a Metaphor.
A Metaphor long continued is an Allegory.
[269]An Allegory turned into a Story is called a Fable, and in the Scripture-Language is a Parable.
When a Metaphor is carried into a great Degree of Boldneſs it is an Hy⯑perbole; and when it is far-fetched, or carries ſome Impropriety in it, 'tis a Catachreſis.
The Metaphor is the Source and Foun⯑tain of them all; and lies chiefly in Verbs;
Metonymy lies moſt in Nouns, and this is the beſt Diſtinction I can make be⯑tween them.
To exemplify the latter, We call a wiſe Man a Cato or a Solomon; a ſtrong Man, a Hercules; a handſome Youth, [270] an Adonis; a fine Woman, a Venus, or an Angel.
The Inſtance is preſerved too between rational Creatures, and Brutes. A rude Fellow is termed a Bear, a bold Fel⯑low, a Lyon. "Go, tell that Fox," &c. ſays our Saviour, ſpeaking of Herod, who was a cunning, ſupple, fawning Prince.
Again, between animate, and inani⯑mate Beings; a fine Woman is a Jewel, a Roſe, a Lilly. "Our God," ſays the Prophet, "is a conſuming Fire." "I am the Vine," declares our Saviour; and even names himſelf by Appellations of Qualities and Virtues, as well as by thoſe of inanimate Beings—viz.—"I am the Way," "the Truth," "the Life."
[271]Rivers are often named to imply the Country through which they paſs, eſ⯑pecially if they be the chief Rivers; as in a Line of Prior, ‘Her Warriors Anna ſends from Tweed and Thames."’
To uſe a Metonymy properly, we ſhould ſtart a new Thought; elſe it is to no Purpoſe; for why ſhould we Call any one a Sir Francis Wronghead, un⯑leſs we deſign to paint him under that Character? If Prior had meant Tweed and Thames in a proper Senſe, there would have been no Meaning in the Expreſſion at all.
The Figure Synecdoche is defined by a Part being placed for the Whole, [272] as "My dear Heart." The Romans ſaid, My dear Head! Honeſt Heart! Honeſt Breaſt! &c. It is again ſeen, when the Containing is uſed for the Contained, as, Drink this Glaſs—Eat of this Diſh—The whole Theatre burſt into Tears—Greece was in Confuſion—Africa was in Arms—The Rhine and Danube made their Submiſſions to Caeſar. Again, when Plurals are uſed for Singulars. As if a veteran Actor ſhould ſay, Your Quins and your Cibbers were not comparable to the Bettertons and Barrys of the former Age.
This Figure is uſed both to extoll and depreciate, as you will eaſily diſcern. Great Judgment is required in the Ma⯑nagement of this, and indeed of all. [273] Nothing is more ridiculous than a Fi⯑gure ill-placed.
There is a Paſſage in Claudian ſo ex⯑cellent, that I muſt inſert it. You will diſcover in it, the Metaphor, the Meto⯑nymy, the Synecdoche, and the Hyper⯑bole. It loſes a great Deal of its Beauty, to be ſure, when ſtripped of the Original Language; where it runs thus—
—Maduerunt Saxone fuſo Orcades; incaluit Pictorum Sanguine Thule; Scotorum Cumulos flevit glacialis Ierne. This literally tranſlated, is, ‘The Orkneys were drenched, the Saxon being overthrown; Thule grew warm with the Blood of the Picts, and the icy River Ierne mourned, in Tears, the Heaps of the Scots, that were ſlain.’
[274]In my next, I ſhall go through the other Tropes, and ſhew you the Dif⯑ference between what is called a Trope, and what a Figure. In the mean Time I leave it to you to find out where the Beauties of the above-cited Paſſage of Claudian lye.
I Have not heard from you ſince Sunday laſt, ſo not having any Thing to an⯑ſwer, I ſhall reſume my Diſcourſe, where I left off.
[275]I ſhall not make any Mention of Irony, as you underſtand it ſufficiently; nor need I ſay much of Hyperbole. It is only an Exaggeration of Things be⯑yond the Reality, to make a deeper Im⯑preſſion, or to give us a ſtronger Idea of what is meant to be conveyed to the Mind. We often run naturally into this, as indeed all Figures have their Source from our Paſſions and Senſibilities. How common is it to ſay, ſweeter than Ho⯑ney, whiter than Snow, when, in Truth, we mean no more than to ſay, very ſweet, and very white.
An Hyperbole, like Irony, appears in the Shape of other Figures, ſometimes in Similies, as, like the Snow for White⯑neſs; and there are Degrees in the Hy⯑perbole, [276] as in the Simile; for, ſpeaking of any antient Cuſtom, we often ſay, as old as the Creation; and, when we would raiſe the Compariſon higher, we ſay, older than the Creation. This Fi⯑gure is noble, when judiciouſly uſed, but when improperly, it is harſh, un⯑couth, and degenerates into a Catachre⯑ſis. There are ſo many noble Hyper⯑boles in Homer and Virgil, and particularly in the Holy Writings, that it is needleſs to quote them.
A bold Metaphor becomes an Hyper⯑bole, a ſtrong extravagant Hyperbole becomes a Catachreſis, and even in this there is ſome Beauty, when introduced with Judgment.
[277]A Metaphor and Hyperbole are ſome⯑times ſoftened by a Compariſon; and there is a Manner of expreſſing that Com⯑pariſon, whereby not only the two firſt Figures, but even the third itſelf, is ſof⯑tened; and this is ſometimes neceſſary to be contrived, to avoid Expreſſions which otherwiſe would be too ſtrong.
All theſe ſhall be ſpoken of in their due Places, but I ſhall confine the Re⯑mainder of this Letter ſolely to the Hy⯑perbole.
In the firſt Place, an Hyperbole may be direct, as ‘The Giant's Head o'ertopp'd the Clouds;’ and the Beauty of the Image preſented, and Manner of the Deſcription, frequently [278] ſet off this Figure, and totally conceal the Extravagance of the Fancy. Virgil gives us an Example of this in the ninth Book of his Aeneid, near the End. He tells us, Camilla
This Paſſage is very beautiful, as Dry⯑den has rendered it, but it is ten Times more ſo in the Original. Virgil ſays,
This is a literal Tranſlation; but no Deſcription can reach the Beauties of the Original. Obſerve the pleaſing Meta⯑phors of flying inſtead of running faſt; of hurting the Grain inſtead of treading it down; and the Word which I have ren⯑dered dipp'd, is in the Latin tingeret, and conveys leſs than dipping; it implies no more than wetting or tincturing.
An Hyperbole, in the next Place, may be indirect, as in a Compariſon; thus,
When Hyperboles are very ſtrong, the Subject or the Object at the inſtant, the Hurry, Heat, and Paſſion, ought not only to deſerve, but even to require them.
I ſhall conclude this Letter with one Example from the Holy Scriptures, where the Boldneſs of the Figure, in my Opinion, exceeds every thing of that Kind, which can any where be found; and ſurely the Occaſion not only requires, but commands it. I think it is the Pro⯑phet Iſaiah, who, ſpeaking of poor Mor⯑tals in Compariſon with the infinitely great and powerful God, ſays,
Does not this ſtrike us with a prodi⯑gious Idea of the infinite Diſproportion between God and us?
Though theſe Figures are eaſily un⯑derſtood yet it requires much Nicety and Attention to diſcover how, when, and where they are to be applied, what Degree of Force or Abatement is to be uſed in the Application, and how they ſhould be dreſſed out for the Purpoſe.
YOU obſerve very truly, that if the Word as were taken out from the Paſſages of the Canticles, which you quoted, they would be ſtill more beau⯑tiful; and indeed it is not in the Origi⯑nal. You ſee the as is in Italick Cha⯑racters, which is conſtantly uſed when Words, that were not in the Original, are added to make the Senſe more intel⯑ligible, or to ſuit the warm Expreſſions of the Oriental Language to the Coldneſs of ours.
[283]The Simile, or Compariſon, is a Figure eaſily comprehended, but a ſkilful Per⯑ſon alone knows how and when to uſe it. One general and unerring Caution belongs to this, as well as to the other Tropes a-kin to it; namely, that Baſeneſs or Meanneſs, Impropriety, Loathſomeneſs, Obſcenity, and Prophaneneſs, are to be avoided. A low and unworthy Compariſon ſhould never interfere with a grand Sub⯑ject. Homer is blamed for this in many In⯑ſtances. I ſhall mention only one; to wit, where he compares Ajax to an Aſs. I refer you to what Vida had advanced in his Disfavour, and Pope in his Defence. There is however great Propriety in the Compariſon, that lies in the Action or Behaviour of the one and the other, on the Occaſions that Homer mentions, [282] [...] [283] [...] [284] though not in the Perſon of Ajax and the Aſs; but even the Introduction of them any how in a Likeneſs together, or pre⯑ſenting the Idea of one with the other, ſeems to debaſe the Thing compared. Virgil, ſays Vida, would never have done this, and indeed we find him delicate in his Applications, and ever ſtudiouſly cautious to avoid low and groſs Com⯑pariſons.
There is a moſt diſguſtful Simile in one of Pope's Epiſtles, about Weſtphalia Hogs; nothing but the Loathſomeneſs of the Vice he is decrying, and his De⯑ſign of making it deteſtable, can ex⯑cuſe it.
Prophane Compariſons ſhock People of Virtue, as much as People of Breed⯑ing. [285] I will give you one Inſtance, which I have many Times heard with Pain. When any one has talked or acted in an unintelligible or unaccountable Manner, I have heard a Pretender at Wit exclaim, ‘Oh! that's like the Peace of God, it paſſeth all Underſtanding;’ alluding prophanely to the Benediction at the End of the Communion-Service. Words and Phraſes, which have been ſanctified and conſecrated in an eſpecial Manner to re⯑ligious Purpoſes, ought not idly to be played with and ſcoffed at. Some Per⯑ſons were ſo warm in the Revolution-Intereſt, that they called King William the Saviour of the Nation. It is true there was no actual Harm in this, but another Term might have been found, and with a better Grace, while we have ſo conſtant [286] and material an Idea devoted to the Word Saviour.
Pope has been blamed by ſome Perſons for calling Agamemnon, King of Kings; that Appellation having been ſo ſolemnly conſecrated to God, in the Revelations, and elſewhere in the Holy Writings.
We are not to expect a Compariſon ſhould hit in every Particular; it is enough if the Thing, to which we allude, agree with the Thing compared in the prin⯑cipal Point or Points, that we intend to illuſtrate.
A ſhort Compariſon is eaſily turned into a Metaphor; but where it runs into a Length of Circumſtances, it is impoſ⯑ſible [287] to do it. For Example, when Vir⯑gil, in the twelfth Book of the Aeneid, compares Aeneas and Turnus, in the Heat of the Battle, to two Torrents ruſhing down a Precipice, and laying every thing waſte before them; and again, near the End of the Book, where he likens the ſame Heroes, Turnus flying, and Aeneas purſuing, to a Deer and a Hound, the Particulars are ſo many, and the Illuſ⯑tration ſo extenſively beautiful, that it would not be comprized within the Compaſs of a Metaphor.
Where the Metaphor would be too hard or obſcure, then a Simile is neceſ⯑ſary; for Inſtance, it would have been uncouth in Homer to have called Hector a ſudden Night, or a ſnowy Mountain; in [288] the one Place therefore he ſays, ‘he came on the Greeks like ſudden Night,’ which creates a ſtrong Idea of Terror; and in the other, "like a ſnowy Mountain," from his Figure being ſo conſpicuous, and his ſhining Arms.
Let me here digreſs a Moment, and raiſe your Admiration, perhaps, your In⯑dignation. Some piddling Criticks, who, forſooth, would have a Compariſon hit in every Particular, and look in the wrong Place for the Simile, have found Fault with the laſt I mentioned. " What," ſay they, ‘does a ſnowy Mountain move?’ as if the Eſſence of the Simile conſiſted in the Motion. No, ſurely, the Beauty is only in the awful Appear⯑ance of a Mountain covered with Snow, [289] which Hector reſembled when he moved along, towering in his Stature, and ſhining in his Arms.
As Compariſons need not be exact in every Particular, ſo ſometimes a Poet of a ſublime Genius will run his Deſcrip⯑tion beyond the Compariſon, when any ſingular Quality or Circumſtance ſtrikes upon his Fancy, though it has nothing to do with the Compariſon itſelf, or the Matter that introduced it. Whether this is ſtrictly allowable by the nice Rules of Criticiſm, I ſhall not determine; but ſurely it is very natural, and, in my Opinion, highly beautiful. The French call theſe Compariſons à longue Queue. Many of them are to be found in Homer and Milton. They are not ſo frequent in [290] Virgil, though I ſhall inſtance you one from him, becauſe it is but ſhort, and has been the Subject of much Alterca⯑tion among the learned. It is in the firſt Book of the Aeneid, and thus tranſlated by Dryden,
[291] Trapp's Tranſlation is more literal and nearer to the Words of Virgil, than Dry⯑den's; well it might, you will ſay, in-as-much as he was not fettered to Rhyme.
The Paſſage about Latona is, in the Ori⯑ginal, literally thus, ‘Joys beat quite thro' Latona's ſilent Breaſt*.’ [292] but there is no coming up to Virgil himſelf.
Now what I mean particularly to ob⯑ſerve, is, the Circumſtance of Latona's Joy. This has nothing to do with the Compariſon itſelf, and therefore ſome Critics wiſh it had been omitted. I am not one of their Number. I think it adds great Beauty to the Paſſage. Is any thing more lovely than ſuch a Reflection as this? Would it not immediately and almoſt irreſiſtibly ſtrike a Poet of a noble Fancy? And is it not highly natural that a Parent ſhould be in Tranſport at the Sight of a Child in ſuch an Attitude, if I may ſo expreſs myſelf? "The chief among ten thouſand," as the Scrip⯑ture [293] terms it, and according to Otway, (if I do not err) ‘Among ten thouſand eminently known?’ Does not the Poet give us alſo a lovely Inſtance of Decorum, in deſcribing the Parent modeſtly attempting to conceal her Tranſports of Joy, too delicate in her Feelings to exult openly? How ju⯑dicious a Writer was Virgil!
The Fancy and Judgment of a Poet is not more conſpicuous in any Particu⯑lar, than in a noble and apt Simile ele⯑gantly expreſſed; for which Reaſon, I could wiſh you, my dear, to remark ſuch carefully in all your reading, but more eſpecially in theſe three great Poets, Ho⯑mer, Virgil, and Milton.
[294]I may poſſibly, ſome Time or other, ſhew you the vaſt Excellency of this Compariſon (juſt quoted) in the Original, and how far it exceeds the Tranſlation. I have little more to add at preſent, than to obſerve, Comparisons may be varied, heightened, or moderated and tempered, by way of adapting them better to your Purpoſe; nor need a Poet be confined to as, ſo, or like; for you perceive Vir⯑gil ſometimes ſays, have you, or have you not ſeen, &c. You would think, &c. When he wiſhes to ſoften a ſtrong Compariſon, his Phraſe is, you would be tempted to be⯑lieve; when to ſtrengthen one, you would have ſworn, and ſo on. I only give you Hints; you can enlarge on them in your own Mind; not that I mean to induce you to turn Poet; but to underſtand the [295] preliminary Rules by which Things ought to be done, is the Method of taſting them, when done, and the moſt certain Means of diſtinguiſhing the Beau⯑ties and Merits of one Author from another.
I fear I have ſufficiently tired you, but it is worth your while to underſtand this Topic well. I ſhall be conciſe in my Definition of Allegory, Fable, and Catachreſis, and then I have done with Tropes.
I Shall now explain Allegory and Fa⯑ble, and then give you Time to breathe awhile, for I fear I grow tire⯑ſome to you; but it is your Good which I intend by my long Letters; and Pre⯑cepts, delivered in this Mode of Diſ⯑courſe between Friends, often make a deeper Impreſſion, than what are to be found in Books, although they may be better explained there. Beſides, there are ſeveral Things only curſorily explained by Longinus, and even by Cicero and [297] Quintilian, who have enlarged much more on theſe Heads. There are more⯑over, in the Courſe of what I write, ſeveral little Obſervations of my own, which if they do you but little Service, will do you as little Harm.
Allegory is ſaid to be a String of Me⯑taphors; but I think this Deſcription de⯑fective; for unleſs that Series of Meta⯑phors depends on ſome one particular Point, it is either a faulty Allegory, or, rather, no Allegory at all. To explain what I mean, I will quote a Paſſage from Shakeſpeare's Hamlet.
[298]This has been much cenſured as a faulty Allegory, becauſe the Writer flies from one Alluſion to another, from Slings to taking up of Arms—againſt what?— a Sea—and then oppoſing a Sea, &c. Now if Shakeſpeare meant this for an Allegory, it is doubtleſs very faulty; but I verily believe that was not his Meaning. I am of Opinion that he only took the firſt ſtrong Metaphor which came into his Head, to expreſs himſelf forcibly and pathetically, and then another, and ano⯑ther, as the Subject roſe upon them, but had no idea of making them connected with, or dependent on each other. I will not venture to affirm I am right, but I am certain that one of the moſt judicious and correct Authors that ever wrote Comedy, does the ſelf-ſame Thing; [299] I mean Terence. He makes one of his Characters ſay,
This, you ſee, is liable to the very ſame Exception with the former, the Metaphor not being continued in the ſame Kind; but I believe neither Author had even the moſt diſtant Notion of an Al⯑legory.
In the Paſſion of Biblis, in Ovid's Metamorphorſis, you have a perfect Alle⯑gory drawn from Sea-faring.
Here you ſee the Images are perfect and uniform. I will quote another from Prior's Henry and Emma, which is very beautiful;
Here alſo you find the Allegory finely purſued throughout; yet not ſo ſcru⯑pulouſly, as not to depart a little from it in the fourth Line, ‘[301]And Fortune's Favour fills, &c.*’
From Allegory there is an eaſy Tran⯑ſition to little proverbial Sayings, and to Fables, which are but Allegories worked up into a Story. Our Saviour's Parables are of this Kind, exactly in Character, and obvious to every Underſtanding. [302] Aeſop, it is true, takes the Liberty to make Birds and Beaſts ſpeak, but, bar⯑ring that, he always adheres to Charac⯑ter. There ought to be a Moral couched in all Fables, or to no Purpoſe are they ſpoke or written.
Compariſons, proverbial Speeches, Pa⯑rables and Fables, may be eaſily convert⯑ed, the one into the other.
Sometimes the Moral is expreſſed, ſometimes underſtood. By ſome Writers it is ſet in Front, as by Fontaine; by ſome, at the End, as by Aeſop; and oc⯑caſionally it is placed in the Middle of the Work.
Thoſe moral Sentences which we find ſo frequently interſpersed in Homer, Vir⯑gil, [303] Milton, &c. before, in the Middle, or at the Cloſe of ſome intereſting Nar⯑ration, are entirely in the Nature of Mo⯑rals to a Fable.
I ſhall throw a little Illuſtration on theſe Points, particularly relative to pro⯑verbial Sentences and Phraſes, and then releaſe my dear Scholar.
We have a Proverb in Scotland, ‘Cocks are free of Horſe-Corn;’ meaning to imply that People are liberal or profuſe of what belongs to another.
Again, we have, ‘Uſe a Cat to the Churn, and ſhe will call i [...] Cuſtom;’ [304] ſignifying, if you accuſtom your Servants, or other Folks, to make frequent Uſe of what is yours, they will think, at laſt, that they have acquired a Right to it.
How eaſily now may theſe be changed into a Compariſon! for Inſtance, ‘As a Cat that has been allowed,’ &c.—‘As a Cock, that ſits in a Manger,’ &c. —or into a Fable, as, ‘A Widow had a favourite Cat, whom ſhe indulged’ and ſo on. Theſe ſimple Examples clearly ſhew how cloſely the Figures are allied.
A Fable or Story may be either true or falſe, it matters not which, ſo that a Moral accompanies it, and flows natu⯑rally from it.
[305]Here follows a Quotation from Spen⯑ſer, where a Fable, Compariſon, and Moral, are finely wrought up together.
In the foregoing Part of this Letter, I obſerved that Aeſop, though he makes his feigned Perſons, that is, his Birds and Beaſts, converſe and reaſon, yet he always preſerves Character. One Mi⯑nute's Patience more, while I illuſtrate this. His firſt Fable affords me the Means.
[306] ‘A Dog, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth, looking into a Pool of Water, imagines he there ſees another Dog, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth; he ſnatches at that, and thereby loſes his own.’
This is all very natural to a Dog, and a plain Moral is to be deduced; namely; that we give up Certainty for Hope, when we greedily graſp at having too much.
The Reverſe of this Rule of preſerving Character is Dryden's Fable of the Hind and Panther. He has wholly departed from it. His Hind and Panther ſet forth at firſt in Kind, I allow; but in the Sequel, he makes them reaſon and [307] diſpute about Fathers and Councils, the Church, and the Pope, School-Divinity, Infallibility, and the Lord knows what. He then introduces a whole Flock of Birds, and characterizes them all as Men. The Buzzard was the famous Dr. Burnet, who was Biſhop of Saliſbury.
Dryden has been juſtly cenſured for this Inconſiſtency; for ſay the Critics, in Support of their Accuſation, ‘Sup⯑poſe a Colonel of Horſe had thrown up his Regiment in fooliſh Hope of getting a higher Command, and was diſappointed,’ Aeſop's Fable might aptly be applied to him; but it would be abſurd to ſay, ‘The Dog ſeeing another Dog in the Water, with a Piece of Meat in his Mouth, dropped [308] the Piece in his own Mouth, and ſnatched at the other, and ſo loſt his Regiment of Horſe.’ This were to confound the Alluſion with the Story alluded to, the Moral with the Fable.
I queſtion whether I need trouble you with the Catachreſis or no; however I will be brief.
Catachreſis is the Abuſe or over-ſtrain⯑ing a Figure. One Species of it is, when, through the Want of proper, we use im⯑proper Terms; for Example, a Glaſs-Inkhorn, or a Silver Smoothing-Iron. Par⯑ricide is properly the Murderer of one's Father, but in Default of better Powers of Expreſſion, we apply the Name to one who has murdered, either his Mo⯑ther, [309] Brother or Siſter. Longinus cen⯑ſures ſome Writer for calling a Hillock a Wart. Quintilian has given many Inſtances of this, and even from Virgil; ſome of them very beautiful; but when the Image is beautiful, I think it can not with Propriety be called a Catachreſis. Blackwell pronounces the following Paſ⯑ſage from Milton to be ſuch;
This is when he deſcribes the De⯑ſcent from Heaven of the Arch-Angel, Raphael. I am not of his Opinion; the Idea is ſupremely ſublime, but not overſtrained.
Statius, deſcribing a general Silence and Quiet, ſays,
I forgot to mention the 29th Ode of Horace, in his 3d Book; it is finely imitated by Dryden; there he begins with Fortune as a Goddeſs, then allego⯑rizes her into a Bird, and laſtly runs into another long Allegory of ſailing in a Storm.
The next Time I write, I ſhall ſhew the Difference between Tropes and Fi⯑gures, and then, in Compaſſion to your wondrous Patience, quit the Subject.
Bleſs you, my dear Nancy!
ONE Thing I advanced was, that in Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Milton, &c. the Moral is often placed in the Middle of the Story. Such Inſertions are called Sentences, or ſhort moral Reflections.
When Turnus kills Pallas, in the tenth Book of the Aeneid, and is exulting in the Victory he has obtained, the Poet, in the very Heart of his Story, breaks forth into this Reflection.
[312]In the Beginning of the twelfth Book of the Iliad, Homer tells us in one Line, "The Grecian Wall was built without Sacrifices to the Gods;" in the next Line, he ſays, "Without the good Will of the Gods;" and immediately thereon adds,
The Meaning here is exactly the ſame with that In Pſalm cxxvii. I.
Where, by the Way, you may remark the ſtrong and figurative Turn of the Eaſtern Language; we ſhould, probably, phraſe it, "Without God's Aſſiſtance," but they more emphatically call it "God's own Doing."
There [313]is a ſhort, but noble, Reflection in the Story of Caliſto in Ovid's Metamorphoſes. Caliſto, before ſhe was diſhonoured by Jupiter, was always at the Side of Diana, but, after that diſgraceful Event, ſhe de⯑clined the Freedom, and lagged behind her; whereon the Poet exclaims,
Having illuſtrated this Point, as far I think neceſſary, I am tempted, from the foregoing Quotation, to make a ſhort Digreſſion. A moſt excellent Leſſon, my dear Nanoy, may fairly be deduced from the Story of Caliſto; no doubt, the Author meant it.
[314]Thus then it ſtands. An artful, prac⯑ticed, general Lover (ſuch was Jove's Character) can aſſume any, and every Appearance to effect his Purpoſe; the more contradictory to what he really is, the better his Fraud is concealed. Jove aſſumes the Appearance even of Diana, by which the Poet means, that the Lover may wear the Maſk of the moſt delicate Chaſtity, till he finds an Opportunity to throw it off, and reſume the Jove. How this is to be guarded againſt, is alſo nicely inſinuated by Ovid. He ſeems to ſay, ‘Never ſuffer yourſelf to liſten to the ſpecious Diſcourſes of that Lover, who wiſhes to ſeparate you from the Virgin Throng, in whoſe Company you are ſafe, or from your Protectreſs, the real Diana, and lead you to private [315] Walks and ſecret Groves,’ as the Author phraſes it. The poor Caliſto, you ſee, meant no Ill, but ſhe had thrown herſelf out of Protection. The more plauſible and ſpe⯑cious a Lover appears, the more dan⯑gerous he really is. Every virtuous Wo⯑man ſhudders at a profeſſed Libertine; but you remember the Moral to the Cha⯑peron rouge, my dear Nancy, which you tranſlated at ſeven Years old,
and there is really but one Teſt to be made of this human Wolf; namely, will he ſuffer his Addreſs to be made known to your tried and natural Friends, your Parents, or Guardians? If he declines this, and wiſhes it to be kept ſe⯑cret, [316] then take Heed, ‘The Wolf, the Wolf's at Hand.’
I now proceed to give you, as far as I am able, the Difference between Tropes and Figures.
In the firſt Place, you are to know that both are occaſionally called Figures; and Quintilian himſelf confeſſes, that the Diſtinction is very often hard to be aſcer⯑tained; for ſome figurative Expreſſions may belong either to Synecdoche, which is a Trope, or Polyptote, Which is a Figure. The beſt Diſtinction then, that I can draw, is this; Trope is a Turn⯑ing of the proper Senſe of the Word into a borrowed, or improper Senſe. For Example, I ſwell with Rage, or Pride.
[317]A Figure is an extraordinary Expreſ⯑ſion; it conſiſts in the Point, Arrange⯑ment, Repetition, or Diſpoſition of Words in a Manner not common.
Trope comes from a Greek Word, which ſignifies a Turning or Changing, and is only applied where the Senſe is turned. When the Turn is in the Words, we call it Figure; though the Word Trope would be as proper to imply Figure, but Cuſtom has made it thus; and that is ſufficient for our Purpoſe.
The Tropes are principally what we have been diſcourſing about, and are chiefly Metaphor, Metonymy, Synec⯑doche, Irony, Hyperbole, Allegory, Compariſon, Sentences or ſhort Morals, [318] Fable or Parable, and Catachreſis. Theſe are moſt neceſſary to be ſtudied.
I Arrived here yeſterday was a Week, the Day I propoſed, in tolerable Health and Spirits.
I commend you prodigiouſly, my dear Nancy, for your Anxiety to ſerve your young Friend. I will aſſiſt you to the beſt of my Ability. I encloſe two Let⯑ters, [319] which I hope will be of Uſe, one to Mr. F—, the other to Mrs. K—th. I would have your Friend convey the firſt, but would requeſt you to deliver the lat⯑ter yourſelf. Your ſpeaking to the Point, will, I think, ſupport my Recommenda⯑tion much, beſide that I wiſh you to be better acquainted with Mrs. K—th. She is a kind-hearted Woman, but very reſentful, if ſhe conceives herſelf to be ſlighted. Such Extremes are quite in Nature. Our Anger or Indignation at the cooling Friendſhip of another, riſes in Proportion to the Warmth of our own.
I am not very ſorry for the Brevity of your Letter of the 21ſt, but for the Cauſe of it, and readily acquit you from [320] fuller Writing, till your Mama is better. I will, in the mean Time, write often, not only with a Purpoſe to amuſe, but to improve and ſerve you the beſt I can, with a ſincere View to your Happineſs both here and hereafter. Thoſe who have an Eye only to the firſt, without conſidering and regarding the latter, will, as Tillotſon ſays, find themſelves miſerably miſtaken, and be, as he well terms them, but witty Fools at beſt.
I wiſh your Mama better.
I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 28th, and heartily congratulate you on your Mama being ſomewhat better. Do not remit your Attention to her, to oblige me. Till ſhe is further advanced in her Recovery, I deſire only a Line to tell me how you both go on, and whether your young Friend has been ſucceſsful in her Application. The Want of a Situa⯑tion and Protection, at ſuch an early Time of Life, naturally claims our Com⯑paſſion and Aſſiſtance; but I am ſtill [322] further concerned, and anxious for a happy Reſult in this Buſineſs, becauſe I am ſo entirely pleaſed to ſee your Readi⯑neſs to intereſt yourſelf in another's Wel⯑fare; and it would grieve me, were this firſt Effort of a kind Diſpoſition damped or diſappointed.
I have not had Time, ſince my Ar⯑rival, to apply to Authors; but if I had, I believe I ſhould forbear to enter upon them minutely, till you are at Liberty to take Part in them.
I hope the young Lady you mention will not ſuffer that Inattention to her Mother to grow upon her. She ſhould recall herſelf betimes, or Inattention will too ſoon become total Negligence, and [323] Diſobedience ſucceed to both. Let her then beware. I never, through Life, ſaw any Failure in Duty more certainly and conſtantly meet with a Puniſhment, than Undutifulneſs to Parents.
I Received yours, and thank you for it. I do not expect or deſire more than ſuch a ſhort Intelligence, while your Mama continues ſo ill. You are right not to neglect her in any Point; you owe her more than ever you can repay.
[324]I have been reviewing ſome of your Letters to-day, and am thence induced to advance a Trifle on this Kind of Cor⯑reſpondence, and the Style neceſſary for it. Perſevere, my dear, in that ſimple Manner of writing, which you ſeem to inherit from Nature. Epiſtolary Corre⯑ſpondence ſhould be as eaſy as Conver⯑ſation. Do not ſuffer an Intimacy with ſublime Authors to tempt you out of this plain, humble Manner of expreſſing yourſelf. You are an Exception to a very general Rule. It is too much the Cuſtom of young Folks, when once they have dipped into Books, to endeavour at high-flown Language in their Writing. Nothing is ſo abſurd; allowing they ex⯑preſs themſelves ever ſo properly, the Expreſſions are miſplaced. They have [325] no Buſineſs in a Letter, where every thing ſhould be plain, eaſy, and conciſe.
Figure, above all Things, ſhould be avoided in theſe familiar Diſcourſes. I have known a Novice in Reading and Writing miſſed by a Simile, ſo as not to know the Point he firſt advanced, and another ſo envelope himſelf in a Meta⯑phor, as not to be able to find the Way out.
All Errors of this Kind you will be ſure to avoid, if you perſevere in your own Way. The more you adhere to Simplicity, the nearer you approach to Elegance.
P.S. I am going from this Place on Buſineſs, which I believe will detain me a Fortnight; ſo do not wonder if you do not hear from me in that Time; but what you write will be punctually con⯑veyed to me.
Encore, adieu!
I Returned laſt Night. I had yours of the 12th, 16th, and 19th very ſafe, and am heartily glad your Mother is [327] better. I make no Doubt but you diſ⯑charged your Duty to her.
I here encloſe a Letter for Mr. Mil⯑lan, whoſe Shop is near Old Man's Cof⯑fee-Houſe, between Charing-Croſs and White-Hall. It is an Order to deliver you Spenſer, and any Author beſide, that you may fancy, when you are there.
I expect to hear from you more fre⯑quently now, as you will have more Time. There are ſeveral Portions both of the Holy Scriptures, and the Apo⯑crypha, that I recommended long ago to your Peruſal, and which you promiſed to read attentively. Have you done ſo? You do not mention them. They are of more intrinſic Value, towards your [328] preſent Welfare and future Happineſs, than all the other Books, I know, put together, and will be ever deemed ſo by Perſons of ſolid Senſe. I will men⯑tion one or two Paſſages, which I have reflected on a thouſand Times; and it will be well for you to carry them much in your Mind, for they will never fail. God ſays,
The next Paſſage is in the firſt Book of Samuel, Chap. xvi. Verſe 7.
Since my laſt, I have read the chief of Moliere's Plays; ſome of them are indeed but petites Pieces.
This Week I deſign to examine Le Medecin malgré lui, Amphitryon, Le Mi⯑ſantrope, and L'Avare. I propoſe to [330] read the two laſt with great Care, as they are reputed two of his fineſt Plays. L'Ecole des Femmes is my great Favourite, and, for a petite Piece, Les precieuſe Ri⯑dicules. I like the Femmes Sçavantes migh⯑tily.
Le Malade Imaginaire, was Moliere's laſt Play, and thought by ſome Critics to be the beſt he ever wrote. I think, at leaſt, there is more Inſtruction and Diverſion mingled together in this, than in many of his Pieces. The Miſantrope, perhaps, is the moſt maſterly, but it does not create ſo much Mirth as ſome others, and the Characters and Sentiments re⯑quire great Attention.
[331]I will now ſet down the Plays which I have read, and which you are not ac⯑quainted with. George Dandin, Tartuffe, Monſieur Pourceaugnac, Le Bourgeois Gen⯑tilhomme, Les Fourberies de Scapin, Les Femmes Sçavanies, Le Malade Imaginaire. You will find the firſt, third, fourth, and fifth, very entertaining, fort enjouées, as the French ſay. The ſecond, ſixth, and ſeventh, are very inſtructing, and will likewiſe give you great Pleaſure, eſpe⯑cially the two laſt.
Moliere's four great Plays, in my Opi⯑nion, are Le Miſantrope, L'Avare, Le Malade Imaginaire, and L'Ecole des Femmes. I think the Character of Agnes, in L'Ecole des Femmes, and that of Alceſte, in the Miſantrope, the two fineſt he ever drew. [332] The next in Degree is Arnolphe in L'Ecole des Femmes. The two Brothers, Ariſte and Sganarelle, in L'Ecole des Maris, Madame Pernelle in Tartuffe, the two precieuſes Ridicules, Soſie in Amphitryon, Harpagon and the Commiſſaire in L'Avare, are all finely drawn; not but there are many others well executed, but theſe ſtrike me moſt, and muſt have coſt him great Pains to paint, as their Excellence con⯑ſiſts not only in their being truly juſt and natural, but they are withal nicely and highly finiſhed.
Some of his Pieces are of the Opera-Kind, eſpecially L'Iſle D'Amour, and Princeſſe d'Elide, Pſyche, and Melicerte, which laſt is a paſtoral heroic Comedy.
[333]Theſe which you have read are the beſt, excepting only Le Malade Imaginaire. The Bourgeois Gentilhomme, and Monſieur de Pourceaugnac, will divert you much; George Dandin, Les Fourberies de Scapin, and La Conteſſe D'Eſcarbagnas, will like⯑wiſe give you ſome Pleaſure. All which I have now gone through I did read for⯑merly, except the Conteſſe D'Eſcarbagnas. She is a ſilly, vain, affected Woman of Quality, who had been once in her Life at Paris, for about two Months, which runs mightily in her Head. She has ſome Reſemblance of Lady Plyant, but, in my Opinion, is not ſo well drawn.
P. S. I write down ſuch particular Phraſes as I think worth remarking. I hope you do the ſame; it will much increaſe your Knowledge of the Lan⯑guage.
I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 5th of this Month. Our Opinions of Mo⯑liere, I ſee, are pretty nearly alike, and I am not diſpleaſed to ſee it.
There is a Poem of Moliere in Com⯑mendation of Mignard's Painting in a [335] Church at Paris. It is called La Gloire du Dome du Val de Grace, but this I have not yet read.
This Week I have gone through L'Etourdi, Don Juan, Le Depit amoureux, Les Amans Magnifiques, and L'Ombre de Moliere. L'Etourdi is the firſt Play he wrote. The chief Entertainment of this Piece conſiſts in the Addreſs and Contri⯑vance of the Servant being perpetually overturned by the Blunders of his Maſter. Though the latter promiſes again and again not to meddle in the Schemes of the former, yet his Vanity and Self-Suf⯑ficiency ſtill prompt him to interfere anew, and ruin the whole. We ſee, in the Ser⯑vant, that a Pride to have his Plots ſuc⯑ceed induces him to be conſtant to his [336] Maſter, rather than his Love and Fidelity; and, at the laſt, the Scheme ſucceeds more by good Luck, than any other Cir⯑cumſtance. All this is very judiciouſly hit off by the Author; but to make the Servant talk to his Maſter in the moſt ſarcaſtical Strain, and ever and anon call him Beaſt and Fool, is beyond all Bounds of Propriety and Decorum.
Don Juan is dreadfully deſtroyed by Thunder and Lightning, and the Earth ſwallows him, which Fate is, in a Man⯑ner, foretold to him by an Apparition. Nothing can end more tragically, yet Moliere calls it a Comedy. Juan's Cha⯑racter is horridly fine, and conſiſtent throughout; bien ſoutenû, as the French expreſs it. He is brave, fierce, exceſ⯑ſively [337] paſſionate, not devoid of Senſe or Wit, but a moſt abandoned Wretch. The Moral of the Play is good, and there are ſome very diverting Scenes; particularly one with a Merchant, who comes to dun Juan for Money; whence Mr. Congreve, I ſurmiſe, took the Hint of the Scene, to the ſame Effect, between Valentine and Trapland.
The Sentiments and Dialogue of the Depit amoureux are good; the Character of Women given by Gros-renè to his Maſter, is very entertaining; and though there is no Exceſs of Wit or Humour in the Piece, yet it is the beſt-conducted Plot in all Moliere. The Manner whereby he winds all his Perſonages out of their Difficulties engages the Attention won⯑derfully, [338] and conveys a Pleaſure rather from the Reſult of the whole, than from Particulars. I would therefore, my Dear, have you read it with great At⯑tention.
There is no great Matter in the Amans Magnifiques, yet it is entertaining; but the Interlude after the ſecond Act, a ſort of little paſtoral Drama, is, I think, one of the fineſt Things I ever ſaw, in that Way. It is ſimple, natural, and perfectly ſuited to the paſtoral Character. The Song of Tircis, which is called the firſt Scene, and that of Caliſte, which is the third, are tender and natural beyond Ex⯑preſſion, and the reſt entirely accord with them.
[339] Le Malade Imaginaire is admirably fine; but herein Moliere has been much blamed for attacking Phyſic as an Art. In his other Plays, ſay they, he attacks Quackery, and the Abuſe of that Art; but here he attacks Phyſic itſelf, and re⯑preſents the very Science as an Impoſi⯑tion on Mankind. I am afraid there is ſomething of this too true, in the Converſation between the Miſer and his Brother.
L'Ombre du Moliere is a petite Piece. It was written by one Brecourt, who was an Actor under Moliere. The Plan is this—The Ghoſts of many of thoſe Per⯑ſonages, whom Moliere had turned into Ridicule, come to Pluto, in the other World, to complain of him. The whole [340] is pretty well executed, in particular the Character of the Doctor; but I cannot, by any Means, perceive a Reaſon for introducing the Ghoſt of Nicolle in the Bourgeois Gentilhomme.
I Have now read Moliere's Plaiſirs de L'Iſle Enchantée, with the Princeſſe d'Elide, which is a Part of it. It coſts a World of Pains to read it through, and it is of that Species, which gives more [341] Pleaſure by being conſidered all together, than in its particular Parts. There is ſomething remarkably fine and natural in the Character and Behaviour of the Prince d'Hague, and the Princeſſe d'Elide, and proves the Author well underſtood Hu⯑mankind. But I ſhall not enter into it minutely, that I may not foreſtall your Pleaſure. It will coſt you ſome Pains in reading, but is worth them all, only to conſider thoſe two Characters tho⯑roughly. They are not only perfectly well drawn, but withal very inſtructive. I think the Character of Moron rather unnatural. It is both in Verſe and Proſe, and there is ſomething in each, not to be found in the other, which de⯑ſerves well to be read; it will therefore coſt you a double Application. If you [342] will mark down Phraſes and Words, which are new to you, you will find the Advantage of it. When you have ex⯑amined theſe very carefully, we will diſ⯑courſe on the particular Beauties.
Since I left Moliere, I have applied myſelf again to Horace. I have gone through all his Satires, Epiſtles, Art of Poetry, the two firſt Books of his Odes, and half of the third. It is much to be lamented, that this inimitable Author is not well tranſlated. I do not know where there are more excellent Inſtructions for the Conduct of human Life. At preſent, I ſhall only recommend to your Peruſal the ſecond and eighteenth Epiſtles in the firſt Book, and the tenth Satire, in the ſecond Book. Howbeit in any Tranſ⯑lation, [343] they muſt fall infinitely ſhort of the poetical Beauty of the Original, yet the good Senſe contained in them will ſhine through any Diſguiſe.
YOU deſire my Opinion of Moliere. One general Complaint is, that he mixes too much Farce with his Plays. I own, I think ſo too. Boileau has no⯑ticed Geronte in the Sack in the Four⯑beries of Scapin. The Bourgeois Gentil⯑homme ends in a mere Farce and a moſt extravagant one too. The Diſpute be⯑tween [344] the two Servants about letting in their Maſter, is quite a Farce; ſo is Toinette's acting the Part of the Doctor in the Malade Imaginaire; nor can I per⯑ceive why it is introduced. There are many more Inſtances of this Kind in his Plays. Thoſe who defend him ſay he was compelled to this by the Humour of the Time; that he had to pleaſe the Town, as well as the Sçavants, the Peo⯑ple of Taſte and the Court; and that the Succeſs of his Pieces depended on the firſt Set of Hearers, as well as the others. In Truth, I think this no bad Defence, and, it muſt be allowed, that theſe Scenes would, in a Farce, be very en⯑tertaining.
[345]Some ſay his Language is not perfectly pure. I will not pretend to decide in that, but the different Characters he brings in ought to be conſidered; for Example, in the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, when he introduces a Gaſconne, and a Pi⯑carde, ſhould he not make them ſpeak the Patois of their reſpective Countries? Moreover as many of his Plays are not only in Verſe, but in Rhyme, this might be a Conſtraint, and oblige him often to uſe uncouth and obſolete Words.
The greateſt Objection to Moliere is ſtill behind; and that is, that there is ſometimes a ſort of Deficiency, in the Denouement of his Plot. This Objection was made by the great Monſieur Le Clerc; [346] and I think this is not only true reſpect⯑ing the unravelling of the Story, but, in ſeveral of his Plays, I think his Plot is not conducted with all the Addreſs in the World, and that it is even too looſely put together. Congreve's Plots are admirably conducted, and if they have any Fault, it is, that they are ſo cloſely woven, that, unleſs we conſider them very narrowly, the Contexture will eſcape us; but then they add great Beauty and Grace to the Piece, when unfolded and brought in View. This is par⯑ticularly evinced in his Way of the World, where every thing is judiciouſly linked to⯑gether, and each Incident ariſes naturally out of the other. In my next, I ſhall ſend my Thoughts on Moliere's Beauties, which greatly exceed his Faults.
[347]My humble Service to your Mama and Aunt, et reſtez bien aſſurée que je ſuis fort de vos Amis.
I AM favoured with yours of the 18th inſtant, and ſhall anſwer the latter Part of it firſt.
Thoſe People, whoſe Deſcription you have noted, are the antient Belgians, and their Neighbourhood, which contains [348] Holland, Flanders, and the reſt of the Low Countries, the Archbiſhoprick of Triers, Liege, Juliers, Cleve, and Berg. You will underſtand ſuch Deſcriptions better, if you will apply to a Map of Europe. Beſide that it is uſeful to point out the Situation of Places, it will make your reading more pleaſant. By theſe Means you will ſee how our Armies abroad lie, what Way they march, what Towns are beſieged and taken. When we hear News, or read Hiſtory, and have no Knowledge of the Situation of Towns, Countries, Rivers, Seas, &c. we receive little Pleaſure, and leſs Inſtruction, from what we hear and read.
It is reported that Elephants never lie down to ſleep, on Account of the Stiffneſs [349] of their Joints, which makes them un⯑able to riſe; therefore, when they are inclined to ſleep, they lean againſt a Tree. The Indians, in order to catch them, ſaw the Tree half aſunder, or more, which giving Way, the Beaſt falls. This, perhaps, is fabulous, for they have much better Methods to catch them; but the Story may ſerve well enough to build a Simile upon.
I think the Simile of Night exceeding fine, but defective; you ſhould conſider, it is not Night only, but Silence alſo that he is deſcribing. Virgil takes in the Winds and Waves, the ſilent March of the Stars;
This is Part of the Deſcription only, and infinitely ſhort of the Original; it is in the fourth Book of the Aeneid. The laſt of theſe Lines contains, in the Ori⯑ginal, but four Words, and literally tranſlated, ſignifies, "When every Field held its Tongue." What Dryden calls ‘To haunt the Woods, or ſwim the weedy Pool,’ is in Virgil, ‘which inhabit the Coun⯑try, that is rough with Shrubs and Buſhes, and the wide-extended liquid Lakes.’
[351] Virgil gives us none but beautiful Ideas. Why does Taſſo preſent us with the Serpent's Hiſs, and Dragon's Cry? I own they are natural, but they are alſo frightful, and, as Shakeſpeare ſays, they make Night hideous.
Virgil makes every thing to be at Reſt, but Dido. It was for her Sake the Deſcription was brought in; and the Exceſs of her Paſſion and Diſtreſs is vaſtly heightened by the beautiful Pic⯑ture of every thing being at Reſt, ex⯑cept herſelf.
Taſſo makes all at Reſt, but the Muſic of the Spheres. This is injudicious. What has the Muſic of the Spheres to do here? It is an old, idle Fancy; be⯑ſides, [352] as Hudibras ſays, We hear it not; why then was it excepted? or how can a Noiſe, which is not heard, lull the World to Reſt? I give you this as a Specimen of the ſuperior Judgment of Virgil, and the Beauty that ariſes therefrom; notwithſtanding I allow, that Taſſo's Deſcription, with theſe Abate⯑ments, has its Merit. If you would read Boſſu carefully, eſpecially his Con⯑traſt of Virgil and Statius, you would ſee how natural and judicious the former is, and how much the latter falls ſhort of him.
YOU aſk my Advice in many Points, wherein I think you are able per⯑fectly to direct yourſelf. Your Conduct, in general, is very ſatisfactory to me, and I believe, to your Mama; however, to the beſt of my Ability, I will comply with your Requeſt, and it will be no Burthen to have two or three ſpare Rules by you.
In one Part of your Letter, you deſire a Plan to live by. I never could live [354] by a Plan myſelf, conſequently am unfit to lay down one to you; and I love my own Liberty too well, to abridge that of other People.
I believe one very general Error in young Folks is a too great Readineſs to make Acquaintance. This ought to be moſt warily guarded againſt. Much of our Happineſs, Reputation, end Welfare, depends upon the Choice of Intimates.
A proper Diviſion of Time is another very material Point. I am as much a Friend to innocent Recreations, as to Bu⯑ſineſs. The only Nicety is to ſteer be⯑tween too cloſe an Application to the latter, and an Exceſs in the former. Your little Neighbour, Miſs D—, will [355] live to repent her ill Cuſtom of ſitting up late at Night, and loitering a-bed in the Morning. Few Things are more pre⯑judicial to Buſineſs, Reputation and Health. A thouſand Inconveniencies are entailed, which are not dreamed of at firſt. She might break herſelf of it eaſily now, and may find it very hard ſome Years hence. I once loved it as well as ſhe does, yet I got over it, and now riſe every Day between ſix and ſeven.
A proper Diviſion of Time preſerves us from being hurried at one Time, and made languid and weary at another; it gives a Gout to Diverſion, and makes Bu⯑ſineſs ſit light and eaſy.
[356]A proper Choice of Companions, at your early Time of Life chiefly, is of the utmoſt Conſequence. There is great Truth in the old Proverb, ‘A Man is eſteemed according to the Company he keeps;’ for ſuch as our Company is, ſuch, in great Meaſure, ſhall we our⯑ſelves be. We fall inſenſibly, and al⯑moſt unavoidably, into the Manners, Air, Sentiments, and Turn of thoſe Perſons, with whom we converſe much, eſpecially in our early Years, ſo that young People cannot be too much on their Guard in this Particular. Our Reputation is alſo affected by the Company we keep. Is there any thing oftner heard than this, and when nothing elſe perhaps can be alledged, ‘Ay, ſuch a young Man, or ſuch a Girl, is very good, but too [357] much in ſuch or ſuch-a-one's Com⯑pany?’ Our Aſſociates therefore ſhould be as good and as wiſe as may be found, at leaſt, in our own Opi⯑nion, and the higher Credit and Re⯑putation they are in, the better ſtill for us.
I am far from dictating or preſcribing rigidly. I would not have a Perſon tied down to a formal Method, to move like a Puppet upon Wires. I am very ſenſible that Diverſion and Com⯑pany are almoſt as neceſſary as Meat, Drink, or Sleep; but I dare ſay you will agree with me that there are cer⯑tain Meaſures, Proportions, and Diſtri⯑butions, in all Sorts of Recreation, as [358] well as Buſineſs, which we ought ſeldom to exceed.
AS I begin to have but few Franks, I muſt put two or three Letters into one.
I am ready to anſwer your Queſtions about dividing your Time aright, and [359] to give you the beſt Directions I can on that Point. It is of the greateſt Moment to Happineſs. Your deſiring Information on this Head pleaſes me much, though, as I ſaid before, I think you do not ſtand in need of it; however, I will expreſs myſelf as if you did, that I may give my Meaning more clear, and to the Purpoſe.
I cannot enter minutely into Particu⯑lars; thoſe muſt occur to yourſelf, as Circumſtances, Times, and Occaſions fall out; I ſhall only obſerve ſome general Things, and explain and illuſtrate them to you in the beſt Manner I can.
Firſt then, in order to employ Time well, to lay it out to Purpoſe, and in [360] due Proportions, it muſt be ſuppoſed that you have Time in your Poſſeſſion. The Queſtion then is, how to purchaſe a ſufficient Quantum, or Meaſure of Time. This is not ſo hard for you, now, at leaſt, as for many People, whoſe Time belongs to others, not to them⯑ſelves; who perhaps are Maſters or Miſ⯑treſſes of Families, who have Ware-Houſes, or Shops to look after, or ſome other Charge, that requires great Por⯑tions of their Time. Be that as it may, a certain Stock of Time is neceſſary for Buſineſs, for Improvement, and for all the neceſſary Functions of Life; Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, and even Recreation and Diverſion; for theſe are neceſſary too; but always in Order to qualify us [361] for ſome better and more important Purpoſes; and are to be uſed as Means to attain ſome End we aim at, and not as the Things themſelves.
How then are we to purchaſe this Stock of Time? Without this by us, our Time, however judiciouſly diſtri⯑buted, will not anſwer. For Example, if I have but a Crown to go to Market with, and muſt neceſſarily have Things to the Value of a Guinea, let me lay out my Money ever ſo prudently, it will not ſerve my Purpoſe. Herein is evinced the vaſt Neceſſity of purchaſing as great a Fund of Time, as we can.
To this Purpoſe I know no one parti⯑cular Thing ſo conducive, as riſing early.
[362]We then have the whole Day before us, can dreſs in Time, breakfaſt in Time, go abroad or ſtay at Home, as Affairs demand; if the former, we are ſure of meeting People at the ordinary Hours of Meals, Buſineſs, or Diverſion; beſide, the Mind is more freſh, active, and ſtrong to apply to Study, or any other Employment that requires us.
‘An Hour in the Morning is worth three in the Afternoon,’ is a common Proverb, and I never knew a truer. The Light, Heat, and Air of the Day is much more healthy and chearful than the cold dark Damps, and Inconveniency of the Night. The brute Creation teaches us this. The dumb Creatures retire early to Reſt, and get up betimes, to buſy [363] themſelves in Queſt of Food, or in bring⯑ing forth, or bringing up their Young, or in providing for the Winter. Nature inſtructs them that the Light and Warmth of the Sun makes that the Time of Buſi⯑neſs; but if we will ſit up in the Dead, and Damps, and Darkneſs of the Night, expoſed to the Vapours of that unwhole⯑ſome Seaſon, we muſt lie late, and there⯑by loſe a great Part of the proper Time for Buſineſs or Study; we muſt breakfaſt when others dine, dine when others ſup, and ſup when they ſleep; ſo that our Time is, as I may ſay, quite disjointed, and can never hit or ſquare with the Times of Buſineſs, Meals, or Viſits of other People. By theſe Irregularities, every Thing goes to Diſorder and Confu⯑ſion; and beſide the Loſs of ſo much [364] Time, (and that the proper Time) the Indolence and Inactivity, that late-ſitting-up and late lying-a-bed creates, renders us quite unfit and unapt for making Uſe of the Reſidue of Time left for Action.
Dr. Swift has painted this ſo juſt and ſtrong in one of the Poems, which I co⯑pied out for you, that I need not expa⯑tiate further on it.
Would not a Merchant be laughed at for a Fool or Madman, who ſhould loiter away his Time till the Exchange were ſhut, a Miniſter till the Time of Divine Service were paſt, a Lawyer till the Courts were up, or a Phyſician till the Patient were paſt Recovery, or dead? It is juſt as ridiculous and fooliſh in us, to miſ-time, [365] time the common Affairs, and Buſi⯑neſs of Life. Solomon, I think, ſays, ‘The ſlothful Man ploweth in Har⯑veſt;’ meaning that he miſ-times his Affairs, and neglects to ſow his Grain, till others are going to reap theirs.
Another Means of purchaſing Time, is, when we foreſee a Crowd of Things coming on us together, and that we ſhall be hurried, to ſteal ſome Time before hand, if we can, to do ſome Part of it, or block it, as we ſay, and prepare it ſo that it may become more eaſy and light.
I have a great Number of Affairs to do to-morrow; I foreſaw them yeſter⯑day. I therefore choſe to let Mr. L— make a Viſit then. I ſeized the Time, [366] I had yeſterday Afternoon to myſelf. I have wrote ſeveral Letters, which are not to go till to-morrow; have put my Papers in Order, and made a Beginning, in having diſpatched all preparatory Work. I only mention this, to illuſtrate to you what I mean.
I ſhall give you the Reſpite of a Day or two, before I purſue this Matter. What I have to ſay further will be eaſily diſcuſſed.
I Am very well pleaſed with your judi⯑cious Remarks on Taſſo. I knew you did not prefer Taſſo's Deſcription of Night to that of Virgil, though I thought pro⯑per to obſerve the Difference of the Choice of Circumſtances therein in thoſe two Poets.
I wrote to you in my laſt about the Purchaſing of Time, and ſhall here add the following Obſervation; leaving what I have to ſay farther on the Diſtribution of Time to another Occaſion. A parti⯑cular [368] Piece of Buſineſs will prevent me for a While.
What ſignifies getting Time enough, without being able to uſe it? If we are lazy, indolent, or indiſpoſed, it will be much the ſame as if we had it not. It will be like earning a good Meal, with⯑out a Stomach to digeſt it, or an Appe⯑tite to eat it; ſo that if we have ever ſo much Time, and have not Application, or if we are what the French call diſſipé, it can be of very little Advantage to us.
In order then to fit us for the right Employment of Time, our Mind ought to be cool and ſerene, our Thoughts clear, our Spirits in Vigour, but undiſ⯑turbed, and not in a Flurry. The Means [369] to attain this Diſpoſition is to endeavour to be in good Health of Body. There is a ſtrange Sympathy and Connection be⯑tween the Body and Mind; the one is ſeldom well, when the other is out of Order. I am not going to preſcribe to you as a Doctor; not being ſkilled in that Profeſſion; but certainly Regula⯑rity and Moderation, in Eating, Drink⯑ing, Sleep, Exerciſes, Study, Buſineſs, and Diverſions, are the beſt Means of preſerving Health, and conſequently of attaining an Eaſineſs and Calm of Mind, joined with Clearneſs and Strength of Thought.
But there are ſome other Things, that incapacitate us for Study or Buſineſs, which ariſe from the Mind itſelf. All [370] immoderate Paſſions, ſuch as Grief, An⯑ger, too earneſt Deſires, an inordinate Purſuit of Pleaſure, or Trifles, and ſet⯑ting a too high Value on them, all theſe diſſipate our Minds, unnerve and weaken them; and at laſt ſink them, leaving no⯑thing but the Dregs of Thought behind.
Another Conſideration ſhould make us ſtill more careful to avoid whatever impairs or deſtroys our Health of Body, or the Faculties of our Mind. The Body and Mind do not only act upon, and affect one another mutually, but they re-act again and again upon each other; like a Ball toſſed to and fro, forward and backward, in a Tennis-Court; Grief, Rage, Envy, or any other violent Paſ⯑ſions, do not only diſturb and diſtract [371] the Mind, but they affect the Health; when the Health is affected, theſe Paſ⯑ſions become more violent, and leſs ſupportable; theſe Paſſions, when be⯑come more violent, give a new Wound to the Health, which adds freſh Force, or, at leaſt, more Malignity, to the Paſſions, and ſo on reciprocally; and if God, out of his infinite Goodneſs, had not given us ſuch Conſtitutions, as ſome⯑times to get the better of all this, we do not know how, this Action and Re-action would certainly deſtroy us; indeed, it very often does.
I ſhall refer the Remainder to my next, and am,
I Have written you my Thoughts, in the beſt Manner I can, about pur⯑chaſing Time, and how that Time may not be uſeleſs, by our being in an unfit Diſpoſition to uſe it. The Queſtion now is, how that Time ought to be diſtribut⯑ed, laid out, or beſtowed.
There are two or three general Rules I would have you obſerve.
Firſt, reckon with yourſelf, how much Time ſuch or ſuch a Thing may take, [373] then how much ſuch another Thing, and ſo on, and divide and diſtribute your Time accordingly.
But then in the next, or rather in the firſt Place, you ought to make a ſort of Calculation or Reckoning of how many Things you have to do; as for Exam⯑ple, to-day, or to-morrow, and forecaſt in your Mind, in what Order you will do them.
Then conſider what Time is moſt pro⯑per for the one, and what for the other; what in the Morning, what in the After⯑noon, &c.
By all Means, conſider what is moſt neceſſary, what is moſt valuable, what [374] deſerves moſt Time. Common Senſe, and the univerſal Conſent of the World, allow that theſe are to be moſt minded; ſo that if you have Time, the greateſt Portion of that, as well as of Care, Pains, Application, and Study, are to be laid out on Things that deſerve it beſt, or that we are moſt intereſted in, or what muſt be neceſſarily done; and if, in Spite of all our Endeavours, we have not Time enough, and are hurried, we ought al⯑ways to prefer what is moſt neceſſary and moſt valuable.
Some People, when hurried either unavoidably, or through their own Fault, will leave nothing undone, but do a little of every thing, and ſo ſlubber their Af⯑fairs, that nothing is done to the Pur⯑poſe; [375] whereas it would have been much better in that Hurry, to have left the leſs neceſſary Things abſolutely untouched, till another Occaſion.
The Purchaſe of Time will put us out of the Neceſſity of being hurried; being in good Health and Spirits will double Time, and keep us from being languid; forecaſting the Particulars will keep us from an Uncertainty and Irreſo⯑lution of what we are to do.
The due Diſtribution of Time, and chuſing the moſt proper Seaſons, is neceſ⯑ſary to doing Things well and effec⯑tually.
[376]The Preference of Things, or Studies, that are moſt neceſſary, valuable, or profitable, will always make our Bu⯑ſineſs and Study moſt advantageous to us.
To this I ſhall add, that in Things indifferent, we ought to conſult our Bent and Humour; if it is not inclined to what is trifling, or worſe, to what our Genius is fitteſt for. We ſhall aſſuredly learn much more, and more to the Pur⯑poſe, when we apply to what we have a Turn for, than to what is againſt the Grain.
I only hint theſe Points to you, with⯑out expatiating on them, which indeed I have not Time for at preſent, nor do [377] I think it needful. Your own good Senſe will ſee into the Truth of them, and reflect and enlarge upon them.
I own, ſuch is human Frailty, that we cannot, at all Times, come up to the ſtrict Obſervance of them, even with all our Endeavours; but we ſhould ſurely ſtrive to do it, in the Main, and as forcibly as we are able.
I own too, that Sickneſs, Indiſpoſi⯑tion, unforeſeen Accidents, Viſits, Avo⯑cations, and Interruptions of many Sorts, and even Buſineſs itſelf, will break in on theſe Rules; but they ought not ſurely to be wholly neglected, becauſe they cannot be preciſely kept.
[378]Theſe Rules are general, and will al⯑ways hold true, at leaſt, in my humble Opinion; and if they always hold true, we ſhould always endeavour to keep to them, with thoſe Allowances above. I do not think I need trouble you with any more of this Kind, nor in⯑deed do I immediately recollect any; but there are ſome particular Things, which, in a long Courſe of Time, I have obſerved; theſe are a ſort of Knacks, if I may call them ſo, of ſtudying, or doing Buſineſs in an uſeful Way. Every Man, I ſuppoſe, has ſome of thoſe peculiar to himſelf, and there may be many which I never heard of; but ſuch as have been obſerved by me I ſhall make the Subject of my next Letter; and I am confident, from Experience, [379] that they cannot fail of being very ſer⯑viceable to any Perſon, who pleaſes to practiſe them.
I Received yours of the 4th of this Month, with which I am very well pleaſed.
[380]I would fain give you a true Idea of the Importance of the few Rules or Directions which I offered you in my late Letters.
Conſider then that our Time is li⯑mited; we have but a certain Portion of Time to live, and even That of the longeſt Liver is but very ſhort. How great a Part of it is taken up in Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, Dreſſing, Company, Avocations, Interruptions, and many other Functions of Life, that are ne⯑ceſſary and indiſpenſable, or, at leaſt, unavoidable! Add to theſe, Indiſpoſi⯑tion, Sickneſs, the Decays of old Age, and the Cares of Life, which grow upon us daily.
[381]But if we were to live ever ſo long, pray conſider that our Underſtandings and Memories are limited, and are very ſhort and imperfect; even thoſe Perſons, whoſe Memories are ſtrongeſt and moſt tena⯑cious, can retain but very few Things, in Compariſon with what they ſee, hear, read, and obſerve. Many Things ſlide out of our Memories, ſome ſooner, others later, and many make no Impreſ⯑ſion at all.
In like Manner, our Underſtandings are limited; ſome can comprehend more, others leſs; but the higheſt Pitch, that human Underſtanding can fly to, is but very low. There are moreover Thou⯑ſands of Things, that, if we ſhould rack our Underſtandings ever ſo much, we [382] can never attain to the Knowledge and Comprehenſion of; they lye without the Sphere and Province of our Con⯑ception, or, as Mr. Locke expreſſes it, beyond the Length of our Tether.
Philoſophers ſay, there are certain Cells in the Brain, ſome of which are the Seats of our Reaſon or Underſtand⯑ings, and others of our Memory. Some are more capacious than others; others not ſo capacious, but hold, what they receive better; however there is but a limited Number, and, when full, they can hold no more; or, at leaſt, new Ideas, when they take Place, juſtle out the old ones.
[383]If Time were to endure for ever, or very long, we need not be ſo ſolicitous of huſbanding it well; or, ſhort as it is, if our Underſtandings and Memories were infinite, or, at leaſt, of a vaſt Compaſs, we could do a great deal in a ſmall Space. But as the wiſe Author of our Being has diſpoſed Things otherwiſe, ought we not to obey the Limitation he has preſcribed us?
To divide and diſtribute our Time aright, ſhould we not endeavour to be in a Diſpoſition of Mind and Body, to be able to take Time, when Time is, and to chuſe fit and proper Periods for acting, and when we are diſpoſed and capable to uſe Time?
[384]Ought we not to prefer what is pro⯑per, uſeful, worthy and neceſſary, to that which is leſs ſo? much more to Trifles, (unleſs for Diverſion or Recreation) and, moſt of all, to what is bad, hurtful, or vicious?
If you, or I, or any one elſe, waſte Time in reading uſeleſs Books, or in ſome impertinent Thing or frivolous Employ, the idle Ideas we lay up juſ⯑tle, or keep out, as many good and wholeſome ones; if they ſlide away, and leave Room for better, which is the beſt that can befall us in ſuch a Caſe, we have, at leaſt, loſt ſo much Time; but if they fix on our Memory and Un⯑derſtanding, then indeed our State is doubly miſerable. I ſtill except neceſ⯑ſary [385] Recreations, and the particular Trades or Buſineſs, wherein we are brought up, and by which we muſt get a Lively⯑hood; many whereof are in themſelves trifling enough, but then they are ne⯑ceſſary, as being the Means of Sub⯑ſiſtence.
Now if the proper Times and parti⯑cular Seaſons of Application, and when we are fit and capable to apply, are to be watched and taken, how much more is the Time of Life, in general, which is fitteſt for us, and to which we are beſt ſuited, to be well and diligently ap⯑plied? I mean, the Time of our Youth, when the Journey of Life is before us, when we have moſt Leiſure, before we are engaged in the Cares and Concerns [386] of the World we are to ſtruggle through; when our Minds are moſt pliable, and when we receive the deepeſt and moſt laſting Impreſſions; when we have a certain Facility both of taking up Things, and retaining them—On all Accounts, therefore, Youth is the moſt proper Sea⯑ſon to lay in a Fund for carrying us through the World with Comfort, and Joy, and Innocence, and Credit. How many Wretches do we ſee of both Sexes, who, for Want of this Precaution and Proviſion, lead miſerable and diſgraceful Lives, and come to an untimely and ſhameful End!
There is one Thing in regard to the Narrowneſs of our Underſtanding, which give me Leave to mention to you.
[387]Some Things are hard, and require much Attention to be comprehended aright. If theſe Things are neceſſary, or worth our While, the Difficulty ought not to frighten us; but if they are other⯑wiſe, we ſhould not break our Heads about them. Some have a Genius for one Thing, ſome for another; and it is wonderful to obſerve how ready and able ſome People are to learn ſome Things, and how hard it is to make them comprehend others, which one would think much eaſier.
Pope has treated this with great Juſ⯑tice, ſomewhere in his Works; I think it is in the fourth Book of his Dunciad. He laughs at the Practice of our Schools and Colleges, where they ſet every Boy [388] to the making of Verſes, without con⯑ſidering whether he has Talents for it or no.
I have been often told that the Jeſuits abroad take a quite different Method with their Pupils. They carefully ſtudy the Temper and Turn of Mind, and when they have diſcovered that, they then ſet them to that which their Genius is moſt ſuited to.
But ſome Things lie quite out of the Reach of our Underſtanding. All the natural Philoſophers, that have been or are now in the World, have not hitherto been able to account for Thouſands of Things, that preſent themſelves to us every Day; why, for Example, the Graſs [389] is green, the Roſe red, the Lily white, the Cowſlip yellow, the Violet blue, the Tulip variegated or party-coloured; why a certain Sort of Tree always bears an Apple, another a Pear, a third a Plumb, and ſo forth, with Millions of other Things. We have but few Faculties, and fewer Senſes, which are the Inlets of all Knowledge. All the Deſcriptions and Definitions that can be made, will never give a Man, who was born blind, the leaſt Idea or Notion of a Colour, or one born deaf, any Notion of Sound. Things being thus, how idle is it in People to puzzle themſelves with Ob⯑jects that lie without the Sphere of their Knowledge or Comprehenſion! And if it be ſo in theſe leſſer Matters, how raſh is it, with regard to the high and tre⯑mendous [390] Myſteries of our Religion, in preſuming Men to endeavour to explain them to others, who cannot comprehend them themſelves!
Dr. Sherlock, Father to the preſent Biſhop of Saliſbury, did more Hurt to Re⯑ligion, (at leaſt in my Opinion) though undeſignedly, by endeavouring to explain the Trinity, than if he had wrote a Trea⯑tiſe againſt it.
Others preſumptuouſly and prophanely contemn and deride, deſperately reject and renounce our Holy Religion, and the ſacred Treaſures of the Scripture, becauſe, forſooth, they cannot compre⯑hend every thing taught there; as if [391] nothing could be true, but what they could account for; although they ſee ten thouſand Things every Day, that are obvious to their Senſes, and yet not one of them can be accounted for by the Wit of all Mankind put to⯑gether.
Such Scoffers as theſe would per⯑haps term what I am ſaying Cant; they have many low Arts and Expreſſions, to ſupport each other in ſuch vain Tenets, as are not to be juſtified by Reaſon. God forbid they ſhould ever affect the ſober and meek! Better is it for us to be ſubmiſſive, teachable, and humble-minded, than to ſail along with a Tide of Fools, whoſe greateſt [392] Comfort muſt be, the Hope of being Nothing at laſt.
I Reſume my Diſcourſe on the Employ⯑ment of Time.
Beſides the few general Rules, which every Body ſhould obſerve as much as [393] their Health and Diſpoſition of Mind and Buſineſs will allow them, there are ſome particular Things, which, if obſerved, will, in my Opinion, tend much to our beſtowing Time to Purpoſe.
But there is one of theſe general Rules, which I muſt again recommend, as a certain Knack or Noſtrum to make Time paſs eaſily and profitably, and that is what I called forecaſting what we have to do, or what we deſign to read or ſtudy; for Inſtance, in the Evening what we are to do next Day, or in the Morning, what we are to do all Day, or for two or three Days to come.
There are many excellent Effects fol⯑low on this Method;
[394]Firſt, we find hereby when we ſhall have a void Space of Time; we can therefore fill it up with ſome⯑thing that would oppreſs us afterwards; or we can beforehand, if we have no Buſineſs that will hurry us after, contrive ſomething to do or read, or ſome Di⯑verſion that would encroach too much on Buſineſs at another Time, or contrive our Viſits ſo as not to encroach on Bu⯑ſineſs at all.
It would alſo give us a View of all we had to do, at once, ſo that we ſhould not only proportion our Time aright, but even chuſe the fitteſt Time for every Branch of our Buſineſs and Diverſion.
[395]We ſhould moreover not be at a Loſs or Doubt, what to do firſt, or whether to do ſuch a Thing or not. I have often felt, that, when I was ſurpriſed with an idle Space of Time, for Want of having forcaſted what I was to do, I continued in Doubt and Irreſolution, and in a ſaun⯑tering Diſpoſition, and as much to ſeek, as when I happened to be ſurpriſed with a Hurry of Buſineſs, not knowing where or how to begin. This is the Reaſon that ſo many People are longer in be⯑ginning and falling to Action, than others are in compleating it. Many People have I ſeen come to a Friend's Houſe, in order to ſpend an Afternoon, but preſently, perhaps, they remembered they had ſomething to do, then away they would go; then, perhaps, change [396] their Minds and come back again, I have ſeen People go in and out of a Cof⯑fee-Houſe, three or four Times in half an Hour; or go, perhaps, along half a Street, then turn ſhort, and go another Way, or turn back. All this comes from not forecaſting what they have to do, and not having reſolved to do what they have ſuddenly taken into their Heads.
No Doubt, you have ſeen all this as well as I, and I do not ſay that I have not been guilty of it as well as others.
I have been in Company where I have ſeen People that were for the Park; then for Vaux-Hall, and not the Park; then for neither, but for the Play-Houſe; then [397] not for that, but for the Tavern; yet, at laſt, went to none of them. My God! how uneaſy are theſe People to them⯑ſelves, and often to others! All proceeds, I ſay, from not forecaſting Things be⯑forehand, and Want of Reſolution to exe⯑cute what they intend. In ſhort, the good Effects of Forecaſt are ſo viſible, and the bad Effects of the Want of it ſo obvious, that I need not longer dwell upon it.
I muſt refer the reſt to my next.
SINCE I wrote you laſt, I have been much in the Country, and beſides there has been ſuch a Hurry in this Town, with Horſe-Races, Balls, Con⯑certs, and a World of Company, that I had not Time to write as I de⯑ſigned.
I have three Letters of yours unan⯑ſwered, all on the ſame Subject*, and am very well pleaſed with them.
[399]What they call the Fortunate Iſlands is certainly fabulous, as the Gardens of Alcinous, the Grotto of Circe and Calypſo, and the Heſperian Gardens. Whether any of the Antients found the Way to the Azores Iſlands, or our Bermudas Iſlands, which, it is ſaid, bid fair to an⯑ſwer the poetical Deſcriptions, is more than we know, or whether they took their Hints from ſome dark Account of Paradiſe. Homer wrote (his Odyſſey) near three thouſand Years ago, Taſſo, I believe, not above three Hundred. I cannot conceive why he differs from Ho⯑mer, in his Account of Ulyſſes. Liſbon is reported to have been named ſo by Ulyſſes; if he really did name it, he muſt have failed without Hercules's Pillars, [400] which were at the Straits of Gibraltar, as may be ſeen by the Map.
To-morrow, or next Day, I ſhall have more Leiſure to write, and then you may count to hear from me.
TO reſume my Diſcourſe on Time— The laſt Rule, I think, that I wiſhed to be obſerved, to ſtop weari⯑ſome [401] Gaps in Time, was either to pre⯑pare ſomething that we know is before our Hand, or reſume ſomething that we had not Time to finiſh. This is an ex⯑cellent Method of keeping ourſelves from Indolence and Idleneſs, and forwarding our Buſineſs, Study, or Knowledge; and nothing ſo much contributes to make this eaſy and practicable, as fore-laying every thing we have to do. When we look before us, we ſhall ſee what Time we are like to be diſengaged, and then we can provide for the right Uſe of that Time.
Another Point I would recommend, is as follows. When we have not any thing to prepare beforehand, nor any thing to do that was obliged to be left [402] undone, ſuppoſe we were to think of ſome By-Study, or uſeful Matter to em⯑ploy ourſelves in, that ſhould touch us but on ſuch Occaſions.
For Example, Nancy, what if you, in ſuch a Caſe, ſhould get the Uſe of ſome News-Papers, particularly the Ge⯑neral or London Evening Poſt, read them over, and even the Advertiſements? You would there find many Things, of which you have, as yet, perhaps, no Idea. As all Europe is now in Motion, you would hereby have a Conception of what is doing, and what you cannot miſs to hear talked of; and if you would lay out a Trifle on a Map of Europe in general, and of the particular Countries likewiſe, and conſult your Maps for every Thing [403] you read about, it would be a very fine, and no unprofitable, Amuſement; for by this Means, and, as it were, by Way of Diverſion, you would come to un⯑derſtand Geography, and comprehend what is now ſo much in the Mouths of all the World. This would give you the Pleaſure of underſtanding what you hear and read, of forming, with ſome Exactneſs, an Idea of the Countries and Actions you read of, which none can do, who know not the Situations of Places, where the Scene of Action lies. Such Perſons as know not, for Exam⯑ple, where France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Pruſſia, &c. are, whether they lie Eaſt, Weſt, North, or South, or how they lie in reſpect to each other, or whe⯑ther they are near or far off, what Plea⯑ſure [404] can they have in Prince Charles's paſſing and re-paſſing the Rhine, or what Notion can they have of his Marches, and the Marches of his Enemies? Why really, ſcarce any.
I would not, however, have you be either a great Geographer, or News-Monger; but this would not only be pleaſant Amuſement in idle Hours, but would enable you to have right Notions and Ideas of Things that are often talked of. Now this, or ſome ſuch Employ, I would have you ſet apart only for the Hours you find yourſelf languid in; but, by no means, let it encroach on the Times of Buſineſs, and when you are more neceſſarily, and more impor⯑tantly engaged.
[405]There is another Thing, in which Time that lies heavy on our Hands might be ſtill more uſefully employed, and that is, in doing ſome Handy-Work. I have many Times regretted that I ne⯑ver learned to do, or make, ſome uſeful Thing or other, to fill up theſe tedious Intervals. I have known Gentlemen learn to Draw, or Play on ſome Inſtru⯑ment, or Work at ſome uſeful Art, eſpecially Turning, which is eaſily learn⯑ed; and I have ſeen a Lady lately ſit five or ſix Hours at making Nets, Flow⯑ering or Embroidering. Such Employ⯑ments as theſe often turn out advantage⯑ous Concerns to thoſe who are not ca⯑pable of high Purſuits, and are happy Relaxations to thoſe who are.
I Wrote you three Days ago; what I have more to ſay will not take up much Time, but I ſhall ſpin it out to two Letters.
One Thing earneſtly to be recom⯑mended, as the Means of making either Study or Buſineſs uſeful and effectual, is to improve the Times and Circum⯑ſtances, that favour them. There are certain Seaſons and Occaſions, by, and [407] in, which we can profit more than others. I do not only mean what I wrote formerly about the proper Times of the Day for this or that, and the Times when we find ourſelves in the beſt Diſpoſition, or when the beſt Op⯑portunities offer, (tho' theſe are to be greatly noticed) yet I now mean ſome⯑thing more.
There are Accidents or Circumſtances, that contribute much to make deep Impreſſions on the Mind and Memory. For Example, when we hear any Thing that is new to us; this excites the Cu⯑rioſity, and is a proper Time to inform ourſelves about it. When a Thing is ſtrange or ſurpriſing, or when it comes newly in Vogue, or when we hear [408] many People talk about a Book, or other Matter, or commend, or diſcom⯑mend it, or when we hear different Characters of ſome Circumſtance or Au⯑thor, or when People conteſt and diſ⯑pute about any Thing, then the Mind is excited; and ſuch Opportunities of Improvement are never to be neglected, unleſs the Subject is of no Concern; but even in that Caſe, People will remem⯑ber, or be curious to know Things in ſuch Circumſtances.
Not only Things that are new, un⯑common, or extraordinary, make deep Impreſſions, but what we learn, hear, read, or do, at ſuch Times, make deep Impreſſions too. There is a certain Con⯑nection of Ideas that I cannot account [409] for, by which they are drawn along, as by a Chain of different Links. You have heard People ſay, ‘I remember ſuch a Circumſtance very well, be⯑cauſe ſuch a Thing happened at that Time, or I was in ſuch a Place.’ If we change our uſual Place of Reſi⯑dence, or our cuſtomary Way of Life, we ſhall, for ſome little While, remem⯑ber better what happened, or what we read, heard, or ſaw, in that Interval, than what occurs ordinarily; and I have often obſerved, when I have come to a Place or Company, from which I had been ſome Time abſent, my former Thoughts have then come back into my Mind, tho' perhaps I had never once reflected on them, from the Time [410] I had been before in that Place or Com⯑pany.
It is for this Reaſon, that thoſe who teach the Art of Memory, lay down this Rule; namely, that when we have many Things to remember, we ſhould join the Idea of ſome very known Place, Perſon, or Circumſtance, to the Thing, we would remember; and we even ſee People, who never ſtudied Rules, very commonly uſe this Method. How often have we heard People ſay, ‘This, that, or the other Circumſtance, will make me remem⯑ber her ſuch a Particular, or ſuch, or ſuch a Thing recalls it to my Mind.’
THE next Thing, I would recom⯑mend, is to conquer that Indolence, which ſome People are, either conſtitu⯑tionally or habitually, encumbered with. I know this is a very hard Leſſon, and what I could never abſolutely be Maſter of myſelf. What is accompanied with Difficulties, or what is not to our Taſte, we bring ourſelves to do with great Re⯑luctance; and we ſatisfy ourſelves with any Sort of Excuſe, to put it off and delay it, from Time to Time. I have often experienced this in myſelf; but if [412] the Thing we thus fly from, is either neceſſary or proper, we ought, by all Means, to compel ourſelves to do it, and even offer Violence to our Tempers, to overcome this Indolence. The beſt Method I know for this, is to take the firſt Opportunity when we are in a pro⯑per Diſpoſition, and to make a Beginning. Thus all the Poets and Philoſophers adviſe. Ovid ſays, "He, who has made a good Beginning, has half-ended his Buſineſs."* Horace and Perſeus ſay the ſame; Incipe, that is, Begin, is their conſtant Rule. I will not give you the Tranſlation of a noble Paſſage from Ho⯑race, it is ſo wretchedly rendered, but [413] one of our Poets ſays, much to the ſame Purpoſe,
There is indeed nothing like making once a Beginning in earneſt, for, by lit⯑tle and little, we are reconciled to the Subject and Taſk. Then Difficulties be⯑gin to vaniſh, at leaſt, they grow ſmooth⯑er and eaſier by Degrees, eſpecially if we ſet our Hearts to conquer them; and ſo, what was once our Averſion, be⯑comes, at laſt, eaſy, and often a Plea⯑ſure to us.
The next Point to be obſerved, is to conquer our Curioſity. When we find [414] our Hearts ſet upon ſome Reading, Bu⯑ſineſs, or Diverſion, that is improper, we ſhould endeavour to maſter that Paſ⯑ſion, and make it ſubmit to our Advan⯑tage; otherwiſe, every new Thing that ſurpriſes us, or that we are fond of, will make us break off, and turn away from the Purſuit of what is uſeful to us.
But in either Caſe, that is, when our Indolence, Averſion, or Curioſity, is ſo ſtrong that we cannot conquer it at once, we ought to do it by Degrees. We may be in ſo unfit a Diſpoſition, that our Struggling can do us no Good, at one Time; then, perhaps, we had better give Way, for that Inſtant, reſolving not to yield it up, but get the better by Degrees. I have been ſeized with ſuch [415] a ſtrong Curioſity, that if I had not in⯑dulged it for that Time, all other Appli⯑cations had been uſeleſs; for Example, on Receipt of ſome extraordinary News, or Letters long expected, and often on Receipt of Letters from you, that, tho' I had compelled myſelf not to read them, (which I could have done) yet I could not have done any Thing elſe to Pur⯑poſe, 'till I had peruſed them, ſo much have they ran in my Head.
THE laſt Point I would recommend in Study or Buſineſs, is what we call Method. The chief Rule herein, where the Nature of the Study requires it, is to get a general Idea of our Sub⯑ject-Matter, in all its different Parts. When we have ſeen through it, we ſhould range thoſe Parts in ſome Order, and fix them in our Mind. Thus ſeen through, the Affair will become much eaſier. Were we even but learning [417] ſome new Game at Cards, it may be reaſonably imagined that this Method will make us comprehend it much bet⯑ter, and more eaſily.
Our next Care is to be Maſter of the chief Difficulties, which will ſtill ob⯑ſtruct our Knowledge, and hang a dead Weight upon us, in the Courſe of our Studies, if not abſolutely maſtered. For Inſtance, in the French Language, thoſe who will not be at the Pains to get the two Auxiliary Verbs Avoir and Etre perfectly at firſt, will find a heavy Clog lie upon them, through the whole Study of that Tongue, which will coſt them ten Times the Pains, that would be ne⯑ceſſary to learn them perfectly at firſt.
[418]You know yourſelf that there are ſome Rules of Practice, which make Things eaſy; and without which, we may puz⯑zle our whole Life over, without coming to our Purpoſe, or, at beſt, ſpend a long Time, and beſtow vaſt Labour in reſol⯑ving them. By common Arithmetick we may blacken many Sheets of Paper, and beſtow many Hours, nay, even Days, to reſolve a Queſtion, which by Decimals or Algebra may be reſolved in a few Minutes. But to illuſtrate this by an Inſtance familiar to yourſelf, how many Tricks at Cards have you ſhewed me, that I could never find out or ac⯑count for, unleſs you had pointed out the Method?
[419]I ſhall take Occaſion ſoon to tranſcribe the four famous Rules of Des-Cartes, and with them ſhall finiſh this Subject.
YOU ſay there is Part of a former Letter, which you do not clearly comprehend; and I can perceive that you think I have given contradictory [420] Rules, though you do not ſo expreſs your⯑ſelf. I proceed to explain it.
There is a great Difference between conquering or ſubduing our Paſſions, and extinguiſhing them. It is certainly our Duty to be Maſters of our Paſſions and Appetites, but not to extinguiſh them, for they were given us by the wiſe Author of our Nature for excellent Purpoſes. Without them, we ſhould never be at Pains to do any good or great Action; and therefore when they are ſubſervient to our Reaſon, they bear the Mind up againſt Fatigue, Indolence, and In-appli⯑cation; but they make ſad Work, when they reign and tyrannize over us. What Horace has ſaid of Anger, may be ſaid of every Paſſion and Appetite. I muſt [421] give it you in the diſadvantageous Tranſ⯑lation of Creech.
It is certain, that if we do not get the Maſtery of our Paſſions, they will be our Maſters—They muſt be ruled, or rule. Now to apply this to the Difficulty you propoſe.
It is moſt certainly a proper Oppor⯑tunity to learn a Thing, when our Cu⯑rioſity is excited by ſome Accident. Then the Application will be vigorous, the [422] Impreſſions deep, and will continue long. Yet, notwithſtanding this, Reaſon, which is the Image of God in our Minds, and which diſtinguiſhes us from all the lower Creation, Reaſon, I ſay, ſhould preſide and controul.
If the Thing our Curioſity is employed about, is worth our While, we may then give the Reins to our Curioſity; otherwiſe, let us call in Reaſon to our Aid; let her keep her Seat, and do her Office. We muſt then take our ſtrongeſt Bit, and firmeſt Rein. This is a Meta⯑phor, you ſee, taken from riding. The Rider is our Reaſon, the Horſe, the Paſſions; which we muſt ſometimes give the Reins to, ſometimes check, ſome⯑times ſpur and ſwitch, but, at all Times, [423] direct and manage. You perceive all this agrees with what was firſt ſaid, namely, that the Paſſions are to be go⯑verned, moderated, and ſubdued, but not extinguiſhed, any more than a Horſe, inſtead of being broke and trained, ought to be knocked on the Head, or all the Blood in the Body let out to cure a Fever, or the Head to be cut off, to cure a Vertigo.
Again, there is a great Difference be⯑tween ſome ſtrong and ſudden Guſts and Fits of Paſſion, Curioſity, for Inſtance, and an habitual Dominion of the Paſ⯑ſions over us. The beſt and wiſeſt of Men may be now and then ſurprized, as the beſt Rider may be thrown, when [424] he is not on his Guard, eſpecially; now I ſay, in ſuch a Caſe, for Example, if a ſtrong Fit of Curioſity poſſeſſes us, which we cannot conquer, as in the Particulars I mentioned to you, it is bet⯑ter to yield a little for the Time, than to ſtruggle in vain; yet, by no Means, to let it run into a Habit, but reſume the Reins, as ſoon as poſſible. Juſt ſo, there are ſometimes Fits of Indolence, Indiſpoſition, Wearineſs, and Liſtleſſneſs, if I may call it ſo, which ſeize us, and muſt be yielded Way to, for a ſhort Time; but, if encouraged, are conſidera⯑bly more dangerous than the other; and for this good Reaſon, that all active Paſ⯑ſions, ſuch as Curioſity, decreaſe in Time, and wear out, or grow weaker by their [425] own Activity, as Things in Motion tend to Reſt, at laſt; but Indolence, the more it is humoured, the more it grows, as Things at Reſt never tend to Motion again of themſelves, but muſt be put into Motion by a new Force; and if they are heavy Bodies, the longer they lie on the Earth, the deeper they ſink into if. This common and daily Expe⯑rience ſhews us.
I Shall now give you the famous Monſ. Des-Cartes four Rules of Me⯑thod.
Rule I. ‘To admit nothing for Truth, but what you hare fully examined, and found to be ſo true, as that you have no Reaſon to doubt it; and to conclude nothing abſolutely, but what you ſee clearly to follow from what you have ſo conſidered.’
[427]This Rule is of excellent Uſe, to find out the Truth in Things of Difficulty, or to attain to the Knowledge of what requires Application. But I muſt warn you, that there are many Things, where this is not neceſſary, as in Things qui ſautent aux Yeux, as the French ſay, Things clear and obvious in themſelves, or Things that commonly occur in Life, or are generally known and practiſed; and in Things that do not concern you whether they be true or falſe, and in many trifling Matters. For Want of this Precaution, I have heard of ſome Ad⯑mirers of Des-Cartes, who have run into unaccountable Follies, and have given themſelves great Diſquiet, in applying his Rules on every Occaſion, and have [428] thereby made their Lives a Burthen to ſelves.
Rule II. ‘That all the Difficulties you are to examine, be divided into ſuch and ſo many Parts as are neceſſary, in order to attain the Knowledge of what you purſue.’
I ſhall ſay nothing on this Rule; I think the Uſefulneſs of it is very plain.
Rule III. ‘To diſpoſe all the Parti⯑culars you are to conſider, in the moſt natural Order.’
That is, you are to conſider the more ſimple and plain Things, before the more compounded and perplexed; thoſe [429] that are neceſſary to be firſt underſtood, before thoſe that ariſe out of them. For Example, in Arithmetic, which you un⯑derſtand a little.
A Numeration-Table ſtands firſt; then we learn to add Numbers to Num⯑bers; the next Thing that naturally fol⯑lows, is to take Numbers from Num⯑bers, which is moſt eaſily learned, after we have learned to add Numbers. This is called Subſtraction. After this, Mul⯑tiplication becomes familiar and eaſy; then follows Diviſion, which requires both Addition, Subtraction, and Multi⯑plication in the Operation.
In Euclid's famous Principles of the Mathematics, called his Elements, he pro⯑ceeds [430] in this admirable Method. His firſt Propoſition is neceſſary to the un⯑derſtanding the ſecond, the ſecond to the third, the third to the fourth, and ſo on. This I think ſufficient to explain what I mean.
This Rule, however, only holds good in Things that have a Relation or Con⯑nection, and Dependence on one ano⯑ther. As for Example, in learning French, as I ſaid before, we ſhall be continually at a Loſs, if we do not make ourſelves Maſters of the auxiliary Verbs, avoir and étre, becauſe they run into every Verb. Yet I think the ſureſt Way to get the French is to begin, after theſe two Verbs, with the other Verbs regular and irregular, though they are much [431] harder than Nouns, Pronouns, &c. The Reaſon is, there is no ſuch neceſſary Connection between theſe and Verbs, that they muſt be learned firſt, in order to gain the other; and as we remember beſt what we learn firſt in the Study of Languages, I am firmly of Opi⯑nion, that Verbs ought to be firſt at⯑tained.
Rule IV. ‘To be ſure to omit no⯑thing neceſſary to be taken into the Conſideration of the Queſtion you are in Search of, or the Attainment of what you want to know.’
How many People have laboured in vain to come to the Ground of a Difficulty, or even attain the Underſtanding of an [432] Art or Trade perfectly, by not obſerving this Rule; and perhaps omitting one ne⯑ceſſary Thing, which made all the reſt defective!
Some People have thought a fifth Rule neceſſary, and indeed I am one of them.
Rule V. ‘To ſeparate every thing from the Queſtion, that is not per⯑tinent to the Reſolution of the Dif⯑ficulty.’
I have often thought this Rule as ne⯑ceſſary as any of the others. When we take any foreign Matter into the State of a Queſtion, or Study of a Point, it embarraſſes and perplexes us, and carries [433] us away on a wrong Scent. You cannot fail to have obſerved this in People, whoſe Paſſions, Prejudices, Inattention, Igno⯑rance, or Miſtakes, lead them away from the Point in Queſtion, and make them wander quite from the true State of it.
The learned have ſtated two Kinds of Reaſoning in the Mind, Diſcourſe, or Method, as they call it. My next ſhall be on that Subject, but I ſhall be very ſhort, and then I have done.
THE two Methods I mentioned, my dear Nancy, are termed by the Learned, the Analytic Method, and the Synthetic Method. Theſe are two Greek Words. The firſt ſignifies no more, in plain Engliſh, than to reſolve, or ſepa⯑rate, and take into Pieces; the latter, to compound or lay together; and in all Things that we would learn or know, one or other of theſe muſt be followed; for we muſt either ſeparate the Subject into different Parts, and conſider thoſe diſtinctly, or we muſt put them toge⯑ther, [435] and conſider them jointly, and ſee what will be the Reſult.
But theſe two Methods are not indif⯑ferent to every Sort of Subject. The Nature of ſome requires to be conſidered analytically, others ſynthetically, and to come at the Knowledge of ſome Things, both muſt be uſed.
In Grammar, that is, the learning of a Language, the analytical Method is uſed to underſtand to read, write, or ſpeak a Language; we conſider the dif⯑ferent Parts of Speech, as Nouns, Pro⯑nouns, Verbs, &c. In Nouns we con⯑ſider the Subſtantives and Adjectives; we divide them into declinable and indecli⯑nable; we divide the Declenſions, con⯑ſider [436] the different Caſes, Numbers, Gen⯑ders, and ſo forth. In Pronouns we conſider the firſt, ſecond, and third Per⯑ſon, the demonſtrative, relative, and poſ⯑ſeſſive. Verbs we divide into regular and irregular; then into active, paſſive, neu⯑ter, and reciprocal; then we conſider them in their different Moods, Tenſes, Perſons, and Numbers. This is ſuffi⯑cient to make you apprehend the Uſe⯑fulneſs of this Method, called analytical.
In Logic, that is, the Art of Reaſon⯑ing, we proceed in another Manner. Here we begin with ſimple Perception, or what is called a ſingle Idea. Then we proceed to Judgment, that is, con⯑ſidering two Ideas together, and com⯑paring them and finding the Relation or [437] Want of Relation between them. For Example, when we conſider the Ideas of Fire and Heat together, we pronounce "that Fire is hot." When we conſider and compare the Ideas we have of God and Death, or Sin, we find a Want of Relation, or an Incompatibility between them; hence we pronounce, ‘God is not ſubject to Death, or to Sin.’
When we have thus formed a Judg⯑ment, we can go further, and carry on our Reaſoning in a Chain; as thus— ‘If God cannot ſin, he muſt neceſſa⯑rily be good; if he cannot die, he muſt be eternal.’ This is called Diſ⯑courſe; which Word does not properly ſignify talking as we uſe it, but reaſon⯑ing, and laying Things together, or [438] ſeparating them, and ſo finding out In⯑ferences.
We then proceed to Method; which is, ordering and diſpoſing our Thoughts, ſo as beſt to attain the Knowledge of what we want to find out, by either or both of the afore-mentioned Ways; and all the Art of Logic depends on theſe four Operations on the Mind, to wit, Perception, Judgment, Diſcourſe, and Method.
Thus in Geometry, a Point is firſt conſidered; next to that a Line, which is a Continuation of Points; this gives us the Idea of Length; the next is the Idea of Breadth; from theſe two we have the Idea of Surface; and when to [439] Length and Breadth we take in Depth, we get the Idea of a Solid. From theſe Ideas ariſe all our Notions of Squares, Curves, Triangles, Cubes, &c. with all their Proportions and Relations.
You have now, I doubt not, a juſt Notion of what is called analytical, what ſynthetical, and of the Uſefulneſs of their different Operations.
I ſaid that in ſome Studies both Me⯑thods may be neceſſary; and they may be ſo, either in ſome different Parts of a long or intricate Queſtion, or even ſometimes to the right underſtanding of the whole.
[440]To give the beſt Idea hereof that I can, take this familiar Illuſtration.
Suppoſe you wanted to know the Ma⯑chinery and Movements of a Watch, it would be neceſſary to take the whole Movement in Pieces before you, to ex⯑plain the Uſe of every Part, to make you obſerve the Shape, Form, and Figure of each, to ſhew you how it is fitted for ſuch or ſuch an Uſe, or Purpoſe, and how its Structure contributes to this Uſe. This is the Analytical Method. But to make you underſtand it perfectly, would it not, think you, be proper to put it together again before you, and to ſhew you thereby how each Part correſponded with and related to another, and how, from that Conſtruction and Compoſition, the [441] Motions ariſe, and were continued, and conducted to the End, for which a Watch was deſigned? This is the Syn⯑thetical Method.
In ſuch an Operation as this, we have Occaſion to conſider every thing duly, and ſo to admit nothing to be true, that is to ſay, fit for the Pur⯑poſe it is ſaid to be deſigned for, un⯑leſs it evidently appears ſo. Here then is a Diſtribution of the Subject into as many Parts as are neceſſary; the ſimple Parts are firſt conſidered, then the Connection with others, then theſe Parts as compounded, and laſtly the whole Frame, Compoſition, or Syſtem. Now if all theſe are duly conſidered, a nice Diſcerner will find out what is [442] wanting, and, by that Means, will omit nothing that is neceſſary to the Perfec⯑tion of the Machine; and if there is any thing amiſs, or ſuperfluous, he will be ſenſible, that it is to be altered, or re⯑moved. Herein then are the whole five Rules of Method, mentioned in my for⯑mer Letter, comprized.
If Mr. Greme (the beſt Watch-Maker, perhaps, that ever was in the World) had not ſeen many Watches both taken aſunder and put together, and had not conſidered every Part nicely by itſelf, and the whole when united, he would never have been able to remove ſome Things, and to add or alter others, as he has often done, to amazing Advantage.
[443]I ſhall add no more on this Sub⯑ject, only recommend a Treatiſe of Mr. Locke's, called The Conduct of the Un⯑derſtanding.
I AM very well pleaſed with your Ob⯑ſervations on Taſſo; they are both in⯑genious and juſt, and no Critic needs be aſhamed of them.
[444]Since I wrote you laſt, our Profeſſor of Poetry had a public Speech. It was on the Figure Proſopopea. This is, in plain English, imagining a Perſon, and directing our Diſcourſe to him. He divided it into two Kinds, either ap⯑plying to a Perſon abſent, or to an ina⯑nimate Thing, as if it were a living Perſon.
This Diviſion is well underſtood and very common. Thouſands of Inſtances, of both Kinds, are to be found in Ho⯑mer, Virgil, Ovid, Milton, &c. Of the firſt Sort there is an Inſtance near the Beginning of the firſt Book of the Aeneid, where Aeneas invokes Tydides, as if he were preſent; but it is much ſtronger expreſſed in the Original, than [445] in the Tranſlation. A noble Inſtance of the ſecond Sort is in the fourth Book of Paradiſe Loſt, where Satan addreſſes himſelf to the Sun; and in another Place, where Eve talks to the Flowers, Trees, and Brooks, from which ſhe is about to be baniſhed.
But our Profeſſor's chief Deſign was to ſhew that there were more ſtrong, more grand, and more emphatical Fi⯑gures, of this Kind, in the Holy Scrip⯑tures, than in all the Poets put toge⯑ther. For Inſtance, ‘Hear, O Heaven, and give Ear, O Earth.’ Jeremiah addreſſes himſelf to the Sword of the Lord, "which," he ſays, ‘thirſteth for Blood;’ and to his Arrows, which he calls "the Children of his Quiver." He [446] quoted many more, all very ſtrong and emphatical, and ſhewed us ſome of the fineſt Proſopopea's mixed with the ſtrongeſt and moſt expreſſive Metaphors, and other Figures. But he inſiſted chiefly on a Paſſage in the Song of Deborah and Si⯑rak, where they do not make a Proſopo⯑pea to the Mother of Siſera, but imagine her talking to her Ladies, and thence ſo impatient as to anſwer herſelf*. He [447] obſerved the Impatience of a Mother for the Return of her Son, her looking out at the Lattice, her aſking her Ladies, her returning Anſwer to herſelf, and then the Particulars that ran moſt in her Head, not Conqueſt nor Glory, but captive Damſels, and fine gorgeous Raiment; with an Imagination ſo warm and full, that ſhe deſcribes them as minutely as if ſhe had ſeen them. This, he ſaid, was na⯑tural to the Sex, quoted a ſimilar Paſ⯑ſage in Virgil, where Camilla is ſo blinded with the Armour of Arunces, that it oc⯑caſions her to loſe her Life. He then made an unfavourable Reflection, name⯑ly, how much the female Sex is taken up with Toys, and gaudy Trifles; a Reflection, which, I flatter myſelf, will [448] never, with any Juſtice, be applied to you.
In Folio, Price 1 l. 1 s. or with Cuts, Price 1 l. 11 s. 6d. EXPOSITORY NOTES, With Practical Obſervations on the NEW TESTAMENT Of our Lord and Saviour Jeſus Chriſt;
Wherein the ſacred Text is at large recited, the Senſe explained, and the inſtructive Example of the Bleſſed Jeſus, and his holy Apoſtles, to our Imita⯑tion recommended. The whole deſigned to encou⯑rage the Reading of the Scriptures in private Fami⯑lies, and to render the daily Peruſal of them profit⯑able and delightful.
By WILLIAM BURKETT, M. A. Late Vicar and Lecturer of Dedham in Eſſex.
Two Volumes, Price 6s. The MARRIAGE: Or the Hiſtory of Four well known Characters;
Tranſlated from the celebrated French Novel of the ſame Title.
By THOMAS MARLEN, A. M.
Price 1 s. CANDID OBSERVATIONS
On the principal Performances now Exhibiting at the New Room of the Society of Artiſts near Exeter-'Change, intended as a Vade Mecum to that Exhi⯑bition.
[] Price 2s. 6d. Bound. A NEW SYSTEM OF ENGLISH RHETORICK, Or, Conſtruction of PROSE and VERSE, in THEORY and PRACTICE. By JONATHAN BELL, Late Teacher of Grammar and the Mathematics.
I. Theory, divided into, 1. Sedate Thoughts and Pathetic Sentiments, their Beauty, &c. 2. Words, their Beauty, natural and tranſpoſed Order, &c. 3. Pointing. 4. Accent, &c. of Words.
II. PRACTICE, divided into, 1. Invention. 2. Elocution. 3. Diſpoſition. 4. Pronunciation. Elu⯑cidated by Rules and Obſervations, exemplified from Scripture and the Claſſics; by which young Students may be enabled to criticiſe and write their own Lan⯑guage properly and ornamentally.
By the ſame Author Price 2s. Bound. A New Methodical ENGLISH GRAMMAR, In FOUR PARTS, viz.
Orthography, Proſody, Etymology, and Syntax.
Elucidated by general and ſpecial Rules or Me⯑thods, deduced from the preſent State and Nature of the Language; by which Methods young Students may chearfully enter into, and readily attain, the noble Science of graceful and elegant Elocution.
[] Price 1s. THE FARMER'S NEW GUIDE For raiſing excellent Crops of PEASE, BEANS, TURNEPS, or RAPE,
(Sown in narrow or wide Rows, with a SEED-PLOUGH, in the Power of every Wright to make at an eaſy Expence) and cleaning the Ground, while they are growing, to prepare it for raiſing good Crops of WHEAT, BARLEY, or OATS, in the com⯑mon Way of ſowing the Seeds, clear of thoſe Weeds which ſo often ruin the Farmer, or keep him poor. Being Experiments made on the various Soils of ſtiff and light.
By Mr. LADNAR, A few Years ſince a very conſiderable Farmer, but now of Kroy, in Yorkſhire.
A TOUR through the whole ISLAND of GREAT-BRITAIN.
Divided into CIRCUITS or JOURNIES. Containing
Interſperſed with uſeful Obſervations. Particu⯑larly fitted for the Peruſal of ſuch as deſire to Travel over the ISLAND.
Originally begun by the celebrated DANIEL DE FOE, continued by the late Mr. RICHARDSON, Au⯑thor of Clariſſa. and brought down to the preſent Time by a Gentleman of Eminence in the Literary World.
May I here be permitted to ſay that one of Gay's Songs, in his Beggar's Opera, contains as perfect an Allegory as can any where be found? The moſt minute Scrutiny can ſcarce mark a Deficiency.
But the poetical Beauties of the Beggar's Opera are too generally overlooked, either through an Attention to the Musical Part, or that the Piece it⯑ſelf is conſidered as merely ludicrous, rather than a Compoſition of exquiſite Satire, Poetry, Wit, and Humour.
The Mother of Siſera looked out at a Window, and cried through the Lattice, ‘Why is his Cha⯑riot ſo long in coming? Why tarry the Wheels of his Chariot?’
Her wiſe Ladies anſwered her—Yea, ſhe returned Anſwer to herſelf.
‘Have they not ſped? Have they not divided the Prey, to every Man a Damſel or two? To Siſera a Prey of divers Colours, a Prey of divers Colours of Needle-Work, of divers Colours of Needle-Work on both Sides, meet for the Necks of them that take the Spoil?’ Chap. v. Ver. 28, 29, 30.