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and how incapable of all this must the themselves. Can circumstances more wretch be, who, like me, can only shocking and big with horror than say,

'A thousand, thousand gloomy scenes

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My daily sighs employ;

Nor is the least a wounded heart, 'That cannot taste one joy.'

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A day he had set apart for prayer and self-examination produced the following pathetic reflections, which give a melancholy picture of an honest mind, struggling with the most poignant and complicated distress, and of a pious resignation to the dispensations of Providence, accompanied by an humble confidence in the divine goodness and mercy:

these befal a youth as yet beginning existence, and as yesterday full of hope and joy? Yet, O good God, I am the person!-A few years ago my morning sun promised a long and happy life, I feel myself lost-lost in incuraday! yet long, long ere my noon of ble misery! What, O my soul, shall I do? and how behave in this misera bie situation? Once I could have

laughed at the folly of such disquietude as I now feel; but then I felt it

not. Reason will not cure a man of a bodily fever, neither can it of a mental one. It may offer assistance like medicine, but like medicine prove inSabbath Evening, June 20, 1762. effectual. My mind is shattered: I "What more disagreeable circum- why so troubled, O my soul? Thy am not master of it as formerly! Yet, stances can one appear in than those conscience accuses thee of none but of the man, who has, by his blunders and easiness, not only lost very venial crimes-crimes of inadevery farthing that was left him by his parents, fortunes are owing to a simple good vertency, none of design. Thy misby which he might genteelly have nature, want of self-interest, and a supported himself, but also has brought (now fatal) fondness to oblige;-not upon himself that cruelest of torments, to dishonesty. It is a great crime for a the thoughts of his having very much centinel to be off his guard; he theredamaged his kindest friends, who have by endangers his own life, and the life done much to support him;-has been of others. Such, indeed, is my crime like gall and bitterness to the best of in the sore and hard warfare of my brothers, by hearing of his misery, and life! Yet what a gloomy thing were harmed his sisters, who had little be- human nature, and who that could, fore, and less now to depend on; and would not tremble at the offer,-the though he has met with undeserved and very offer to take it, were there no forinhuman treatment from some, has met giveness with our Maker,―were there with as undeserved favours and kind- no balm in Gilead, and no physician ness from others, which he feels he can- there! Were we set on a battle, where not repay. He would, indeed, fain in- we are sure to be wounded, for no man demnify his kind benefactors, and re- liveth that sinneth not, yet he, who turn the great, very great kindness of the children of his father; but this he sent us to the battle refuse to bind up cannot obtain: his former conduct has wicked as man is, sincere contrition our wounds!-Weak, foolish, and prevented it. Those, who have most as surely deserves the favour of his generously assisted him must lose by Maker, as a hasty and hurried on, and him; his nearest relations must not thoughtless sin does punishment. Adonly have to feel for him, but suffer versity is the post of honour, dangerous, but glorious, if crowned with victory:-aye, here my mind recoils; the victory seems not determined for me! To-morrow evening, perhaps, I shall mourn in a jail; deserted of Prodence, and left a prey to the extreme cruelty of honest thought, and the tenderest feelings for my poor sisters! Will God, indeed, give me up to this hell! Did he give this honesty and warmth of feeling to be my curse and tormentor! and must the murderer,

The other surviving children of Mr. Alexander Mickle were Thomas, the eldest, an army surgeon, who died in 1799. Charles, a journeyman printer, then in London, with whom the correspondence cited in this narrative was carried on; and two sisters, who both died unmarried, before our author, without experiencing that distress, which his clouded imagination had so feelingly foreboded.

the thief, and fraudulent debtor sleep 21, 1763, under the assumed name of in peace, undisturbed, but at their William More, begging his lordship's own confinement! Well, care and opinion of his piece on Providence, disquietude cannot amend me, even which he tells him was the work of a should Providence desert me so far! young man, friendless and unknown; often have they incapacitated me to but that were another edition to have do as I ought. But I argue in vain; the honour of Lord Lyttleton's name at composure is not in my own com- the head of a dedication, such a pleamand, I may hide my griefs from sure would enable him to put it in a company, but I cannot from myself. much better dress than what it then Yet, let me suinmon all the resolu- appeared in, and requesting the fation I am master of, which has already vour of an answer to be left at Seaoftener than once, undismayed, borne goe's Coffee-house. the very near prospect of death: Let me do all I vet can, and trust in the father of mercies, who easily can deliver me, if he will-that he will, will yet raise me undishonoured and innocent of the harm of others from this "We shall now return to his afbusiness, which he knows his Provi- fairs in trade. In the harvest 1762, dence, in a manner, thrust me into; the crop upon a farm, which he ocwhich I have never liked, and which cupied, was seized for a year's rent of he has not fitted me for. Grant, O eighty pounds, and would have been Father, that thy providence may yet sold the next day, perhaps for half appear merciful and compassionate to its value, had not a Mr. William me. Thou, who knowest the infirmities of poor human nature, pity, oh, pity me, and deliver me. Make haste, O God, to save me,-else I perish!"

is

This solicited patronage was as successful as it deserved to be. Men of genius should disdain to court what men of rank and wealth ought to be proud to shew.

Good, a carpenter in Edinburgh, whose name deserves to be recorded with honour, as the patron of indigent genius, now added to many former The distracted state of his mind the one half payable when he sold his obligations, the loan of sixty pounds, strongly shewn in this wild but, as usual, his feelings obscured crop, and the other half when convehis reason, and prompted him to an- sued in the sheriff's court for another nient. At Candlemas 1763, he was ticipate greater evils than were likely half year's rent of forty pounds: to happen, or than did in reality hap- which, with other demands about pen. By the interference of his this time, so effectually unhinged his friends and the lenity of his creditors, credit, that he writes to his brother, his fears were for some time suspended. He now applied more closeMarch 31. It is impossible to rely to business, but not without paying heart submits. Alas, it is a terrible trieve myself in this business.-My some attention to literature. He bestowed great care upon the poem of struggle! Well! I did all I could,-it "Providence," and from its success failed; and I submit.-What a melofty expectations were formed. It the flower and best part of my life by lancholy thing it is to say, I have lost was published in 1762, by Dodsley, struggling in vain, and have contracted under the title of " Providence, or Arandus and Emilec," and received a habit of languor and distaste of life; very liberal commendation from the yet, melancholy as it is, such is Critical Reviewers. But, being dissa- About a fortnight after, he writes, the case of your unfortunate brother.' tisfied with the opinion of the Monthly Reviewers, which was less favour- but my principal creditors and Mr. I have a supercedere scrolled out, able, he resolved to appeal to the Good, who at present has it, (and to judgment and taste of the first Lord whom I owe more than to any other, Lyttleton. He accordingly sent to alas! almost all for securities for me, his lordship a letter, dated January oh, Charlie judge my condition), say they see no need for it, as I intend to We are at a loss to conjecture, go abroad. I have paid what I had why this poem is omitted in the pre- so far, that I must apply to you for sent edition of his works. five pounds, one half to leave with my

sisters, the other half to bring me up There's not a demon haunts the walks of to you. After which, I shall have life

leisure to try my friends what can be Of more disastrous aspect, more abhorr'd done for me, failing which, I must Than friendless indigence. Each ghastly see Jamaica. In haste and distrac

hue

tion, yours, &c.' But, before he That swims in sickly fancy's eye she wears.” could receive the above sum, under[To be continued.] standing that one of his creditors intended to arrest him for an inconsi

a gaol, he on

VOLTAIRE and SHAKSPEARE.
HE

derabl, he privately left his home of Tspecting our great dramatic bard, the 25th of April, without taking was in proportion to the virulence leave of his sisters, and after walking with which he has laboured to deto Newcastle-upon-Tyne, embarked preciate him. Knowledge is modest; on Board a collier for London, where ignorance is presumptuous. The man he arrived pennyless on the 8th of who knows most, feels how little it May. is that he really knows: while he that "We now find him in the capital, has acquired but a tincture, thinks that friendless and forlorn, having life to his erudition is equal to the possibility begin anew: loaded with accumu- of acquisition. This was the case with lated debts, which he had no pros- Voltaire. His knowledge of the Engpect of discharging; and haunted lish language was confessedly small': with reflections the most poignant to his blunders with regard to Shakspeare an honest mind, that he had injured are notorious. Mrs Montague, in her his best friends and nearest relations, once celebrated performance, has ably These, notwithstanding the integrity vindicated our national poet from the of his heart, and the purity of his in- flippant aspersions of the witty Frenchtentions, threw a gloom over every man; and Johnson, in his eloquent enjoyment, which was never after to- and masterly preface to the bard, has tally dissipated. He also felt, per- growled a few words of defiance at haps, too severely the truth of his own him. But it would perhaps be difobservation in his poem on Provi- ficult to find a more gross instance of

dence :

"Were there not the hope of a judgment" he says, "when every motive of the heart shall be laid open, and every intention, and every means of a failure shall be fully known; were it not for the hope of these, I say, existence were intolerable." His sister writes him, May 7, 1763: "Do not represent to yourself things passing at home worse than they are.-A heart that can appeal to the great God of heaven for the purity of its intentions, need not care much for the cruel censure of such a blind and emmet like creature as man."

misconception than Voltaire has furnished in the following remark :at the end of Corneille's "Cinna" he has given a translation of some parts of Shakspeare's Julius Cæsar, by way of comparison, and then adds some strictures upon other parts of the play which he has not translated. Among others, he says, with manifest exul tation, "Brutus reproaches Cassius, that he sells every thing for money, and that he HAS THE ITCH IN HIS HANDS!" (Brute reproche à Cassius qu'il vend tout pour de l'argent, et QU'IL A DES DEMANGEAISONS DANS LES MAINS.

The passage which this pretended critic has thus translated, and would thus endeavour to turn into ridicule and contempt, is well known to your readers. In that celebrated scene of contention between the two last of the Romans, Brutus says,

His friend Good, who had so nobly supported him, and who was the greatest sufferer by his failure, says, July 3, 1768, "Notwithstanding all your endeavours to do mne justice, I shall be a considerabie loser, but I know your "Cassius, you yourself integrity so well, that whatever loss I Are much condemned to have an itching may sustain at present, your justice palm,

will make up to me if ever in your To sell and mart your offices for gold power,"

To undeservers."

This instance of deplorable igno- kneeling and prayers demand the rance, vanity, and presumption, I reverence which is due only to sanctity thought too curious not to be com- of manners and purity of heart; memorated; and I therefore send it passive abstinence from professed to you, Mr. Editor, that it may be given to the public through the medium of your excellent miscellany. I remain, &c. Cambridge, Aug. 2, 1807.

F. D.

On INDEPENDENCE of CHARACTER:
By Mr. MUDFord.

Sibi res, non se rebus, submittere.
HERE are few virtues that either

villainy seeks the renown which
should cover the triumphant struggles
of suffering and contending virtue;
and in this manner, a conduct nearly
allied to insolence and vulgarity, too
often hopes to be identified with dig- 1
nified independence of character.

But let us not, while we lament the abuse of a virtue, forget its intrinsic excellence. The river which, when it bursts its barriers, and sweeps be

man, is deplored as an evil, and an avenging scourge, but receives homage and our gratitude, as it flows gently onward, giving fertility to the plains and beauty to the landscape.

which have not a direct tendency to degenerate into their contrary vices. The line of demarcation, however perceptible and obvious when contemplated in another, seldom fails to diminish, and to become indistinct, Independence of character, of all when considered as existing in our earthly blessings, is that which a wise selves. Self-delusion, a common and honest man would most devoutly topic of complaint among moralists pray for. It is not only the source and declaimers, mingles more or less of every other virtue, but is itself a with all our decisions; but never with virtue of the highest order; it secures greater efficacy than when we would to the heart the most sweet of all de distinguish between our own vices lights, the gratulations of an approving and our virtues, and endeavour to conscience. Nothing can exceed that assign to each its appropriate character. calm tranquillity, that delicious balm And this is not only natural, but ne- of peace, which cheers and animates cessary; enemies, detractors, candid the mind upon a retrospect free from friends, abound on every side, who any galling recollection of base, serare active to detect, and ready to dis- vile, or even equivocal conduct. The close the spots and blemishes of our man who can lay his hand upon his nature; but very few are those, who heart, and exclaim with conscious can so far suppress the lurking envy rectitude, "I have never forgotten in their bosoms, as to acknowledge the dignity of human nature," is its commendable parts. Since, there- surely more to be envied than any fore, man is the instinctive guardian other human being. He alone can of his own honour, it is fitting that look back upon the road of life and he should defend what every one is behold a long extended path covered willing to resign to neglect and dila- with sun-shine, and strewed with pidation. But it is to be regretted, flowers; he alone can commune with that this principle, great and noble in his own heart, and come from the itself, should become the vehicle of inquiry, with an unblenched counerror and the assertor of illegal im- tenance. Oh! what an achievement munities. Nothing, in fact, is more is that for the mind of man!-An common than to hear a man, with all achievement which who that owns, the warmth of sincerity, and all the does not feel that he is blest! And ardour of rooted conviction, main- who is there so lost to all the longings tain, as the most unsullied purity, of an immortal soul, that would not what, in reality, approaches nearly think this a prize worth contending to depravity and crime. In this man- for?

her, brutality and ferocious savage- There are two spheres generally ness are dignified with the names of allotted by mankind for the exercise courage and bravery; supineness and of this virtue; though, to my mind, inactivity aspire to the honours of in one alone does it appear in all its active benevolence and philanthropy; native dignity and lustre. These two

are PUBLIC and PRIVATE life; but I heroism, generosity, fortitude, and am decidedly of opinion, that the philanthropy, without feeling that I latter is its most illustrious field of could myself have been as great, action. I will explain this further. placed in similar circumstances; and Men naturally rise with their situ- this feeling I believe is common to ation. Great events call forth great every man. But when I hear of, or exertions. The soul once roused, meet with, any generous action, with bounds with activity from point to any exertion of character, with any point; it seems to expatiate, to fill silent manifestation of principle perwith its conceptions a new world. formed in the obscurity of domestic All that was before feeble and inde- life, where there are no eager eyes to cisive, now assumes the firmness of behold, no busy tongues to repeat, principle; the slumbering fires are no echoes of renown to flatter, no blown into flame, and that flame applauses, but the silent gratulations stimulates, supports, and pervades of the heart; then I feel what is neevery action. A new being seems to cessary to the practice of virtue, when take possession of us, and the whole it is performed for her sake alone; moral system sustains a complete re- and I learn to estimate the intrinsic volution. merits of those actions which obtain

At this juncture, too, the eyes of so large a share of admiration and the world are upon us. Here is a renown. Who would not, like Resuperadded stimulus; a stimulus which gulus, have preferred torments and impels the most torpid to deeds of death, bewailed, admired, and hogreatness, and animates the aspiring noured by the whole Roman people, to actions of immortality! Who could and even by the enemy to whose be less than great in such a case?- vengeance he resigned himself, rather Who would not feel every latent than bend to the fond entreaties of spark move within him, and range afflicted friends, and by so doing incur his veins with resistless force?-Who general contempt and indignation? that bebolds a whole nation, perhaps Who would not imitate the selfa world, thousands, millions of his devoted Decius, in a sacrifice that fellow-creatures, gazing at his every would embalm his memory in the step, intent upon his every word, and hearts of his countrymen, to the ready, nay anxious to receive with latest posterity? Oh! man knows admiration the minutest action he not the heights of which he is susperforms; who would not, in such a ceptible, until impelled by powerful post, be something more than human? external agencies! Dull as the hind that ploughs the But, in this point of view, indeearth must he be, who would not then pendence of character must always soar above the rest of mankind!-- be an equivocal virtue; while the But ah! gross even to fatuity must sphere in which I would place its that self-delusion be, which would noblest exertions, detracts nothing cunningly persuade him that what he from its intrinsic worth, and adds does, he does from principle! No every thing that can shed around it Ten thousand beings in the world at additional lustre and attraction. Here, large, who wander now in dull ob- numberless are the instances which scurity, would do as much! Would call this virtue into action. The poor ascend to heights as glorious, and man, and he that holds a middle stawould beam with splendour as reful- tion between poverty and wealth, gent, though ambition, which grasps daily feels the necessity of repressing at plans beyond a week's duration, is the insolence of power and the pride now perhaps foreign to their souls. of riches; and happy is he who has Great men act from external im- acquired that firmness of character pulsion. Their deeds are surrounded which enables him, in spite of envy, with a sort of shewy grandeur, admi- in spite of malice, in spite of all the rably suited to dazzle the eyes of the enginry with which lordly power vulgar. But, in fact, nothing is so would crush the humble, to maintain easy as the great actions of these great the dignity of a man, while he reFor my own part, I seldom spects the rights of a citizen. read those accounts of astonishing The rights of a citizen?-Yes.

men.

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