led men, who felt them, to esteem their own age the worst. The enemies of Christianity (for Paganism was not then extinct) absurdly turned these calamities to the discredit of the Christian religion, and said, the times were so unhappy, because the gods were dishonoured, and the ancient worship neglected. Orosius, a Christian, did not deny the melancholy facts, but, to obviate an objection so dishonourable to the true religion, he endeavours to prove from historians, both sacred and profane, that calamities of every sort had existed in every age, as many and as great as those that existed then. If Orosius has reasoned right (and his work is an elaborate one) it follows, that the lamentations made then, and made ever since, are no more than natural declamations incidental to man; declamations naturally arising (let him live at any period) from the superior efficacy of present events upon present sensations. There is a praise belonging to the past, congenial with this censure; a praise formed from negatives, and best illustrated by examples. Thus a declaimer might assert (supposing he had a wish, by exalting the eleventh century, to debase the present) that "in the time of the Norman conqueror we "had no routs, no ridottos, no Newmarkets, "no candidates to bribe, no voters to be bribed, &c." and string on negatives as long as he thought proper. What then are we to do, when we hear such panegyric?-Are we to deny the facts? -That cannot be-Are we to admit the conclusion? That appears not quite agreeable. No method is left, but to compare evils to evils; the evils of 1066 with those of 1780; and see whether the former age had not evils of its own, such as the present never experienced, because they do not now exist. We may allow the evils of the present day to be real-we may even allow that a much larger number might have been added --but then we may alledge evils, by way of return, felt in those days severely, but now net felt at all. (6 We may assert, we have not now as happened then, seen our country con"quered by foreign invaders, nor our property taken from us, and distributed among the conquerors; nor ourselves, "from freemen, debased into slaves; nor "our rights submitted to unknown laws, 66 "imported, without our consent, from "foreign countries." Should the same reasoning be urged in favour of times nearly as remote, and other imputations of evil be brought, which, though well known now, did not then exist, we may still retort that—" we are no "longer now, as they were then, subject "to feudal oppression; nor dragged to war, as they were then, by the petty tyrant "of a neighbouring castle; nor involved "in scenes of blood, as they were then, " and that for many years, during the un"interesting disputes between a Stephen " and a Maud." Should the same declaimer pass to a later period, and praise, after the same manner, the reign of Henry the Second, we have then to retort, that we have now no "Beckets." Should he proceed to Richard the first," that we have now no holy wars" to John Lackland, and his son Henry, "that we have now no barons wars"-and' with regard to both of them, "that, 66 though we enjoy at this instant all the "benefits of Magna Charta, we have not "been compelled to purchase them at the "price of our blood.' A series of convulsions bring us, in a few years more, to the wars between the houses of York and Lancaster-thence from the fall of the Lancaster family to the calamities of the York family, and its final destruction in Richard the third-thence to the oppressive period of his avaricious successor; and from him to the formidable reign of his relentless son, when neither the coronet, nor the mitre, nor even the crown, could protect their wearers; and when (to the amazement of posterity) those, by whom church authority was denied, and those, by whom it was maintained, were dragged together to Smithfield, and burnt at one and the same stake. The reign of his successor was short and turpid, and soon followed by the gloomy one of a bigotted woman. We stop here, thinking we have instances enough. Those, who hear any portion of these past times praised for the invidious purpose above-mentioned, may answer by thus retorting the calamities and crimes which existed at the time praised, but which now exist no more. A true estimate can never be formed, but in consequence of such a comparison; for if we drop the laudable, and alledge only the bad, or drop the bad, and alledge only the laudable, there is no age, whatever its real character, but may may be made to pass at pleasure either for a good one or a bad one. If I may be permitted in this place to add an observation, it shall be an observation founded upon many years experience. I have often heard declamations against the present race of men; declamations against them, as if they were the worst of animals; treacherous, false, selfish, envious, oppressive, tyrannical, &c. &c. This (I say) I have often heard from grave declaimers, and have heard the sentiment delivered with a kind of oracular pomp.-Yet I never heard any such declaimer say (what would have been sincere at least, if it had been nothing more) "I prove my asser"tion by an example where I cannot err; "I assert myself to be the wretch I have "been just describing." So far from this, it would be perhaps dangerous to ask him, even in a gentle whisper- You have been talking, with much confidence, about certain profligate beings-Are you certain, that you yourself are not one of the number?" I hope I may be pardoned for the following anecdote, although compelled, in relating it, to make myself a party. 66 Sitting once in my library with a "friend, a worthy but melancholy man, "I read him out of a book, the following passage error; "In our time it may be spoken more "truly than of old, that virtue is gone; the "church is under foot; the clergy is in the devil reigneth, &c. &c. My "friend interrupted me with a sigh, and "said, Alas! how true! How just a pic"ture of the times!--I asked him, of what "times?---Of what times! replied he with "emotion can you suppose any other but "the present? were any before ever so "bad, so corrupt, so, &c.-Forgive me (said I) for stopping you--the times I am reading of are older than you ima"gine; the sentiment was delivered about "four hundred years ago; its author Sir "John Mandeville, who died in 1371." to the universe, then they lead to something worse, for they lead to Atheism. The melancholy and morose character being thus insensibly formed, morals and pięty sink of course; for what equals have we to love, or what superior have we to revere, when we have no other objects left than those of hatred or of terror? It should seem then expedient, if we value our better principles, nay, if we value our own happiness, to withstand such dreary sentiments. It was the advice of a wise man-"Say not thou, what is the cause that the former days were better than these? For thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this." Eccl. vii. 10. Things present make impressions amazingly superior to things remote; so that, in objects of every kind, we are easily mistaken as to their comparative magnitude. Upon the canvass of the same picture a near sparrow occupies the space of a distant eagle; a near mole-hill, that of a distant mountain. In the perpetration of crimes there are few persons, I believe, who would not be more shocked at actually seeing a single man assassinated (even taking away the idea of personal danger) than they would be shocked in reading the massacre of Paris. The wise man, just quoted, wishes to save us from these errors. He has already informed us-" The thing that hath been, is that which shall be; and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? It hath been already of old time, which was before us." He then subjoins the cause of this apparent novelty-"Things past, when they return, appear new, if they are forgotten; and things present will appear so, should they too be forgotten, when they return.' Ecc. i. 9. 11. 16. This forgetfulness of what is similar in events which return (for in every returning event such similarity exists) is the forgetfulness of a mind uninstructed and weak; a mind ignorant of that great, that providential circulation which never ceases for a moment through every part of the universe. As man is by nature a social animal, good-humour seems an ingredient highly necessary to his character. It is the salt which gives a seasoning to the feast of life; and which, if it be wanting, surely renders the feast incomplete. Many causes contribute to impair this amiable quality, and nothing perhaps more than bad opinions of mankind. Bad opinions of mankind naturally lead us to Misanthropy. If these bad opinions go farther, and are applied" all new." It is not like that forgetfulness which I once remember in a man of letters; who when, at the conclusion of a long life, he found his memory began to fail, said cheerfully-"Now I shall have a plea"sure I could not have before; that of "reading my old books, and finding them Tacre There was in this consolation something philosophical and pleasing. And yet perhaps it is a higher philosophy (could we attain it) not to forget the past, but in contemplation of the past to view the future; so that we may say, on the worst prospects, with a becoming resignation, what Æneas said of old to the Cumean Prophetess, --Virgin, no scenes of ill To me, or new, or unexpected rise; In such a conduct, if well founded, there is not only fortitude, but piety: Fortitude, which never sinks, from a conscious integrity; and Piety, which never resists, by referring all to the Divine Will. Harris. $216. The Character of the Man of Business often united with, and adorned by, that of the Scholar and.Philosopher. tyrannic oppression, by the manly system of the Stoic moral. The best emperor whom the Romans, or perhaps any nation, ever knew, Marcus Antoninus, was involved during his whole life in business of the last consequence; sometimes conspiracies forming, which he was obliged to dissipate; formidable wars arising at other times, when he was obliged to take the field. Yet during none of these periods did he forsake philosophy, but still persisted in meditation, and in committing his thoughts to writing, during moments gained by stealth from the hurry of courts and campaigns. If we descend to later ages, and search our own country, we shall find Sir Thomas More, Sir Philip Sidney, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, Milton, Algernon Sidney, Sir Walter Tem ple, and many others, to have been all of them eminent in public life, and yet at the same time conspicuous for their speculations and literature. If we look abroad, examples of like characters will occur in other countries. Grotius, the poet, the critic, the philosopher, and the divine, was employed by the court of Sweden as ambassador to France; and De Witt, that acute but unfortunate statesman, that pattern of parsimony and political accom plishments, was an able mathematician, wrote upon the Elements of Curves, and applied his algebra with accuracy to the trade and commerce of his country. And so much in defence of Philosophy, against those who may possibly undervalue her, because they have succeeded without her; those I mean (and it must be confest they are many) who, having spent their whole lives in what Milton calls the Philosophy, taking its name from the love of wisdom, and having for its end the investigation of truth, has an equal regard both to practice and speculation, in as much as truth of every kind is similar and congenial. Hence we find that some of the most illustrious actors upon the great theatre of the world have been engaged at times in philosophical speculation. Pericles, who governed Athens, was the disciple of Anaxagoras; Epaminondas spent. his youth in the Pythagorean school; Alexander the Great had Aristotle for his preceptor; and Scipio made Polybius his companion and friend. Why need I mention Cicero, or Cato, or Brutus? The orations, the epistles, and the philosophi-busy hum of men," have acquired to cal works of the first, shew him sufficiently conversant both in action and contemplation. So eager was Cato for knowledge, even when surrounded with business, that he used to read philosophy in the senatehouse, while the senate was assembling; and as for the patriot Brutus, though his life was a continual scene of the most important actions, he found time not only to study, but to compose a Treatise upon Virtue. When these were gone, and the worst of times succeeded, Thrasea Pætus, and Helvidius Priscus, were at the same period both senators and philosophers; and appear to have supported the severest trials of themselves habits of amazing efficacy, unassisted by the helps of science and erudition. To such the retired student may appear an awkward being, because they want a just standard to measure his merit. But let them recur to the bright examples before alledged; let them remember that these were eminent in their own way; were men of action and business; inen of the world; and yet did they not disdain to cultivate philosophy, nay, were many of them perhaps indebted to her for the splendor of their active character. This reasoning has a farther end. ́ It justifies me in the address of these philosophical arrangements, as your Lord ship has been distinguished in either character, I mean in your public one, as well as in your private. Those who know the history of our foreign transactions, know the reputation that you acquired in Germany, by negotiations of the last importance and those who are honoured with your nearer friendship, know that you can speculate as well as act, and can employ your pen both with elegance and instruction. It may not perhaps be unentertaining to your Lordship to see in what manner the Preceptor of Alexander the Great arranged his pupil's ideas, so that they might not cause confusion, for want of accurate disposition.' It may be thought also a fact worthy your notice, that he became acquainted with this method from the venerable Pythagoras, who, unless he drew it from remoter sources, to us unknown, was, perhaps, himself its inventor and original teacher. Harris. ₫ 217. The Progressions of Art disgust ful, the Completion beautiful. Fables relate that Venus was wedded to Vulcan, the goddess of beauty to the god of deformity. The tale, as some explain it, gives a double representation of art; Vulcan shewing us the progressions of art, and Venus the completions. The progressions, such as the hewing of stone, the grinding of colours, the fusion of metals, these all of them are laborious, and many times disgustful; the completions, such as the temple, the palace, the picture, the statue, these all of them are beauties, and justly call for admiration. Now if logic be one of those arts, which help to improve human reason, it must necessarily be an art of the progressive character; an art which, not ending with itself, has a view to something farther. If then, in the speculations upon it, it should appear dry rather than elegant, severe rather than pleasing, let it plead, by way of defence, that, though its importance may be great, it partakes from its very nature (which cannot be changed) more of the deformed god, than of the beautiful goddess. Ibid. 218. Thoughts on Elegance. Having answered the objections usually brought against a permanent sense of Addressed to the right honourable Thomas Lord Hyde, chancellor of the Duchy of Lan caster, &c. beauty, let us now proceed to single out the particular species or kinds of beauty; and begin with elegance of person, that so wonderfully elevates the hunan character. Elegance, the most undoubted offspring and visible image of fine taste, the moment it appears, is universally admired: men disagree about the other constituent parts of beauty, but they all unite without hesitation to acknowledge the power of elegance. The general opinion is, that this most conspicuous part of beauty, that is perceived and acknowledged by every body, is yet utterly inexplicable, and retires from our search when we would discover what it is. Where shall I find the secret retreat of the graces, to explain to me the elegance they dictate, and to paint in visible colours, the fugitive and varying enchantment that hovers round a graceful person, yet leaves us for ever in agreeable suspence and confusion? I need not seek for them, madam; the graces are but emblems of the human mind, in its loveliest appearances; and while I write for you, it is impossible not to feel their influence. Personal elegance, for that is the ohject of our present enquiry, may be defined the image and reflection of the grandeur and beauty of the invisible soul. Grandeur and beauty in the soul itself are not objects of sense; colours cannot paint them, but they are united to sentiments that appear visible; they bestow a noble meaning and importance of attitude, and diffuse inexpressible loveliness over the person. When two or more passions or sentiments unite, they are not so readily distinguished, as if they had appeared separate; however, it is easy to observe, that the complacency and admiration we feel in the presence of elegant persons, is made up of respect and affection; and that we are disappointed when we see such persons act a base or indecent part. These symptoms plainly shew, that personal elegance appears to us to be the image and reflection of an elevated and beautiful mind. In some characters, the grandeur of soul is predominant; in whom beauty is majestic and awful. In this style is Miss F-. In other characters, a soft and attracting grace is more conspicuous: this latter kind is more pleasing, for an obvious reason. But elegance cannot cannot exist in either alone, without a mixture of the other; for majesty without the beautiful, would be haughty and disgusting; and easy accessible beauty would lose the idea of elegance, and become an object of contempt. The grandeur and beauty of the soul charm us universally, who have all of us implanted in our bosoms, even in the midst of misery, passions of high descent, immense ambition, and romantic hopes. You may conceive an imprisoned bird, whose wild notes, prompted by the approach of spring, gave her a confused notion of joy, although she has no distinct idea of airy flights and summer groves; so when man emerging from wretchedness assumes a nobler character, and the elevation of the human genius appears openly, we view, with secret joy and delightful amazement, the sure evidence and pledge of our dignity: the mind catches fire by a train that lies within itself, and expands with conscious pride and merit, like a generous youth over the images of his country's heroes. Of the softened and engaging part of elegance, I shall have occasion to speak at large hereafter. Personal elegance or grace is a fugitive lustre, that never settles in any part of the body, you see it glance and disappear in the features and motions of a graceful person; it strikes your view; it shines like an exhalation: but the moment you follow it, the wandering flame va mishes, and immediately lights up in something else; you may as well think of fixing the pleasing delusion of your dreams, or the colours of a dissolving rainbow. You have arisen early at times, in the summer season, to take the advantage of the cool of the morning, to ride abroad. Let us suppose you have mistaken an hour or two, and just got out a few minutes before the rising of the sun. You see the fields and woods that lay the night before in obscurity, attiring themselves in beauty and verdure; you see a profusion of brilliants shining in the dew; you see the stream gradually admitting the light into its pure bosom; and you hear the birds, which are awakened by a rapture, that comes upon them from the morning. If the eastern sky be clear, you see it glow with the promise of a flame that has not yet appeared; and if it be overcast with clouds, you see those clouds stained by a bright red, bordered with gold or silver, that by the changes appear volatile, and ready to vanish. How various and beautiful are those appearances, which are not the sun, but the distant effects of it over different objects! In like manner the soul flings inexpressible charms over the human person and actions; but then the cause is less known, because the soul for ever shines behind a cloud, and is always retired from our senses. You conceive why elegance is of a fugitive nature, and exists chiefly in motion; as it is communicated by the principle of action that governs the whole person, it is found over the whole body, and is fixed no where. The curious eye with eagerness pursues the wandering beauty, which it sees with surprize at every turn, but is never able to overtake. It is a waving flame, that, like the reflection of the sun from water, never settles; it glances on you in every motion and disposition of the body: its different powers. through attitude and motion seem to be collected in dancing, wherein it plays over the arms, the legs, the breast, the neck, and in short the whole frame: but if grace has any fixed throne, it is in the face, the residence of the soul, where you think a thousand times it is just issuing into view. Elegance assumes to itself an empire equal to that of the soul; it rules and inspires every part of the body, and makes use of all the human powers; but it par ticularly takes the passions under its charge and direction, and turns them into a kind of artillery, with which it does infinite execution. The passions that are favourites with the graces are modesty, good nature, particularly when it is heightened by a swall colouring of affection into sweetness, and that fine languor which seems to be formed of a mixture of still joy and hope. Surprize, shame, and even grief and anger, have appeared pleasing under proper restrictions; for it must be observed, that all excess is shocking and disagreeable, and that even the most pleasing passions appear to most advantage when the tincture they cast over the countenance is enfeebled and gentle. The passions that are enemies to the graces are, impudence, affectation, strong and harsh degrees of pride, malice and austerity. There |