Britain had been a gainer by the loss of her American dominions; in other words, that profit on stock is all a great nation has to think of, in the management of its affairs. For the Literary Magazine. NO. XII. TO a mind of sensibility, there are few recollections so mortifying as that of having lived only for selfish purposes, of having passed through a large portion of life without ever being of service to mankind; with the prospect of descending to the grave unnoticed, and being soon forgotten, as something which has never existed but in the imagination of the fanciful dreamer, or ardent enthusiast. To a person thus constituted, who wishes he had been able to perform some action which would not have been swept away amidst "the wrecks of time," but would have borne down his memory to distant ages, and enrolled his name on the iltrious list of human benefactors, how dreary is the retrospect of life! He seems to have lived without having fulfilled the end of his existence; he feels himself alone in the world, for he has no claim on the services, the attentions, or the sympathies of his fellow; he thinks these things cannot be given, except for some equivalent consideration, and knowing he has never given it, thinks he cannot reasonably expect any return. pect a large crop (abstractedly) from a small field; and viewing the subject in a religious light, we may venture to reverse the scriptural phrase, and say, "to whom little has been given, of him little will be required," and if death puts an end to our exertions, we must remember that He who shortens the span of existence is satisfied with the fruit it produces. But let those who are inclined to dwell on human depravity not decide too hastily; let them look around with an eye of observation, and they will perceive on the desert many fertile spots, where the virtuous have flourished even in the unfriendly shade of obscurity, without the hope of reward, or the prospect of celebrity. It is true, many have not been eminently useful to society, nor would any have been so had great numbers possessed the virtues, and performed the services of the eminent; for men are not apt to consider that a virtue which is common to many, for the same reason that they esteem those things less which they do possess, than those they have possessed and possess no longer. But though many have not been eminently useful, yet a much greater number have been, and are so, than we are at first view willing to allow. I was induced to make these observations by the perusal of the epistle of my correspondent Maltronio*, who laments the uselessness of his own life, and sees no merit in any of the actions of it; he accuses himself At the first glance of the subject, for having lost so many days, and it appears as though there were ma- infers the degree of his own culpabiny persons thus situated, but a more lity, by comparing his situation with attentive consideration will convince that of the emperor Vespasian, any one, that the number is fewer whose conduct he seems to have enthan we have imagined; that few deavoured to imitate, without bearhave lived, who were not, and few ing in mind that the opportunities to mankind in a greater or lesser de- immeasurably greater than his own; live who are not actually serviceable and resources of this prince were in an equal proportion; some have sian unjustly accused himself of havgree: it is true all do not contribute without reflecting that even Vespanot the inclination, others have not ing lost a day, for he faithfully per formed the important duties of his the power, and it is equally unreasonable to expect to contribute largely with scanty means, as it is to ex * See No. V. station: if he enacted wise laws for, and attended to the prosperity and happiness of his numerous subjects; it he guarded them from foreign violence and domestic commotions; if he governed them with justice and humanity; if he encouraged them in the practice of virtue, and the discountenance of licentiousness,he certainly found sufficient employ ment every day of his reign; and days thus occupied, though none of them were distinguished by favours bestowed on individuals, were certainly not days which deserve to be ranked among those, which are lost their owners or to humanity. My correspondent seems to be one of those who do not think they have done enough, when they have supported by their exertions themselves and their families, and performed all those things which would entitle them to the appellation of good citizens and honest men. He seems to aim at something more, at distinction justly acquired, a sure proof that he possesses an elevated mind; a grovelling one aims at nothing but self gratification, and if a love of distinction has by some unaccountable accident entered into it, the possessor builds his hopes of celebrity more on external show or great possessions, than on intrinsic worth or great actions. But Maltronio has mistaken the means of effecting his purpose; his whole attention seems to be occupied in forming plans to promote it. What was the determinate object of his wishes, we are not informed, and can only conjecture that he intended to peform some great action. This is the mistake into which many a benevolent projector has fallen: they are continually revolving in their minds some mighty project, in the (too often) vain hope that futurity may enable them to execute it. This is the case from day to day; every opportunity of conferring small and cheap favours is neglected, as though they were collecting their strength for one great effort. Time however steals on, unmindful of human resolutions and human designs; age arrives without the advancement of the work, and then they regret that they have wasted their time to no purpose.— They remember with regret how many opportunities have passed by, and will not return, and die without having done any thing but formed good resolutions. It is certainly praiseworthy to do for our fellow creatures what few, either from want of inclination or of power, are able to do; and perhaps, at the time when the minds of some men are busily engaged in forming vast designs for the good of society, they would be executed with pleasure, were the means placed within their immediate reach; but when, by constant and unwearied toil, for many an anxious year, they are at last in their power, the possessors seem just then to become sensible of their value, and how little they can spare from their resources after their own wants are supplied. By this time they have become old; all the visions of their youth are dissipated, and they have reached that period which Maltronio so much dreads, when all the more delicate sensations which agitate the youthful breast are chilled by the winter of indifference. VALVERDI. For the Literary Magazine. THE TOMB OF ALEXANDER. THE discovery of the supposed memorial of a western conqueror, in a country which entombs so much native greatness, wealth, and learning, is itself a very striking incident; while, on the present occasion, we need not say that the images of Grecian and Egyptian story mix themselves very finely, in every English mind, with the recollection of other victories and other tombs than those of Alexander the great. Researches, therefore, into the history of this valuable bequest of ancient times, are in some degree useful, when considered merely as ministering to the pleasures of imagination. Whe ther their utility stops here, and whether the imagination be not the faculty principally concerned in them, are questions not very easily answered. Yet, when it is once settled that the study of antiquities, however overvalued, is not without its use, and prefers, on this ground, a clear title to our regard, it certainly is not necessary to make out this title in every particular instance.To demand this, were about as reasonable as to ask, why care is taken to turn, with the finest precision, every volute and olive-leaf on the capital of a lofty column, although these minuter graces are hardly distinguishable from below? Every thing must be done carefully, that nothing important may be done ill. Besides this, the spirit of experimental philosophy requires us to accumulate observations, although we should not always be able to figure out to ourselves the specific shape and magnitude of the benefits which may accrue from them. If we fail in our principal inquiry, we are of ten rewarded by obtaining some unhoped collateral advantage, which overpays our labour and our disappointment. This sarcophagus was forcibly taken from the mosque of St. Anthanasius, in Alexandria, by the French, in spite of the howlings and lamentations of the inhabitants, to whom it was the object of superstitious veneration; and on the capitulation of Alexandria to the British, it fell into the hands of the conquerors. It had then been long removed from the sight and adoration of the people of Alexandria; it was already destined for Europe; however it might have been obtained by the French, it was to the British the prize of war; lastly, it was a most tempting article; and on all these accounts, it was seized, brought into England, and placed in the British Museum, where it now lies, a wonder to the ignorant, and a riddle to the wise. Though the acquisition of this treasure by the victorious English stands on very different ground from the lawless seizure of it by the pretend ed deliverers of Egypt, yet it seems a nice inquiry, whether conquest strictly conferred the right of taking it away, and whether the feelings of those, to whom it had previously belonged, were sufficiently consulted in this transaction. The capitulation of Alexandria being already on the tapis, Dr. Clarke was commissioned by lord Hutchinson to enter the city, and obtain the surrender of the monument of Alexander, which report had already made known to the English. Dr. Clarke set forward on this expedition, accompanied by two other gentlemen. The following extract from his account of it, will give our readers a very favourable idea of the manner in which an antiquarian can draw up a narrative. They had scarcely reached the house in which they were to reside, when a party of the merchants of the place, who had heard the nature of their errand, came to congratu late them on the capture of Alexandria, and to express their anxiety to serve the English. As soon as the room was cleared of other visitants, speaking with great circumspection and in a low voice, they asked if their business in Alexandria related to the antiquities collected by the French? On being answered in the affirmative, and, in proof of it, the copy of the Rosetta stone being produced, the principal of them said, "Does your commander in chief know that they have the tomb of Alexander?" They were desired to describe it; on which they said it was a beautiful green stone, taken from the mosque of St. Athanasius; which, among the inhabitants, had always borne that appellation, The instructions from Cairo evidently referred to the same monument. "It is the object," they continned, "of our present visit; and we shall show you where they have concealed it." They then related the measures used by the French; the extraordinary care they had observed to prevent any intelligence of it; the indignation shown by the Mahometans at its removal; the veneration in which they held it; and the tradition familiar to all of them respecting its origin. They were then told that it was in the hold of an hospital ship, in the inner harbour; and being provided with a boat, it was there found half filled with filth, and covered with the rags of the sick people on board. Nothing could equal the admiration with which they viewed this beautiful tomb, having never seen, among the fine works the ancients have left, an instance in which nature as well as art vie with each other to such perfection. True indeed are the words of Denon, Qui peut être regardé comme un des morceaux les plus précieux de l'antiquité: and strictly does the appearance of it correspond with the description given by Diodorus of the shrine constructed for the body of Alexander. This sarcophagus is one entire block of green Egyptian breccia, and is covered with hieroglyphics. Its dimensions are as follows: its height is three feet ten inches; its greatest length, for it swells out towards the head, ten feet three inches and a half; its greatest breadth near the head, five feet three inches and a half; its least breadth, at the foot, four feet two inches and a half. For the Literary Magazine. CONSTANTINOPLE, Alexandria, in Egypt, and our own Philadelphia, are, I believe, the only eminent cities in the world, the founders of which are certainly known, and whose foundation may be considered as springing from the will of one man. In old times, the founders of cities were revered as deities, within the cities they founded, and though christianity has abolished all claims of this nature, it has not destroyed the propensity natural to mankind of revering, with a sort of fanciful idolatry, the memory of public bene. factors. In Europe, it is still fashionable to consecrate the remains of eminent persons, by placing them within what is called holy ground, and marking the spot where they lie by tombs, monuments, and inscriptions; but this is not the case with the honest people of Philadel phia. Their friends and relations are indeed respectfully enough treated, but as to eminent persons, where are their ashes deposited? what monument signalizes and distinguishes the spot? Penn, whose genius founded our city, lies nobody knows where. We cannot tell whether he died on this side of the ocean or the other. Like philosophers, we are satisfied that he existed to our benefit; that he died like other men we readily believe, but where his bones rest nobody asks or cares. Yet I own I have so much curiosity as to make this inquiry of your readers. Some of them perhaps can tell me where he died, and where he was buried. 0. For the Literary Magazine. ONE of the most striking faults in Thomson's versification is its resemblance to rhymed verse. Sometimes, indeed, his periods take a wider sweep; but, for the most part, he is contented with blank couplets, interspersed with now and then a triplet, or a broken connecting verse. His lines are not absolutely bachelors; but he rarely admits polygamy in his versification. Take an instance near the commencement of his Spring. To check this plague, the skilful far mer chaff And blazing straw before his orchard burns; Till all involved in smoke his latent foe dust Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe; THOMSON'S VERSIFICATION. Or, when the envenom'd leaf begins to curl, With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest: Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, The little trooping birds unwisely scares. These lines are undoubtedly blank verse, but they have not its peculiar character; and the ear is disappointed at the end of each couplet by the failure of rhyme. The objection to rhyme is the restraint which it throws on the fluency of periods; but Thomson has injudiciously sacrificed the ornament, without profiting greatly by the liberty. Some expressions in his description of Lavinia have great beauty; but the whole bears the appearance of having been written with rhymes, and afterwards done into blank verse. Another glaring defect in the work of Thomson is that singular incoherency which pervades the whole poem. The author seems indeed to have thought that the introduction of the word now was a sufficient link to connect subjects most widely separated by nature. For instance, after more than a hundred and thirty lines on the golden age, the depravity of modern times, the deluge, and the Pythagorean predilection for vegetables, he suddenly transports his reader to the side of a trout-stream, equipped with rod and line. Now when the first foul torrent of the brook, &c. Again, after a long address to lord Lyttleton, he abruptly breaks off with Flush'd by the spirit of the vernal year, The third important error in Thomson's style is the laboured, pedantic, and injudicious phraseology, which frequently destroys the effect of ideas the most happily conceived and skilfully detailed. VOL. VI. NO. XXXVII. For the Literary Magazine. ON THE STANDARD OF TASTE, SOME are inclined to deny the existence of a standard of taste, from the versatility of fashion, in dress, building, furniture, and the like. But dress and furniture are not, generally speaking, the objects of that mode of judgment or feeling, which we call taste. There is nothing naturally gratifying to the imagination in the shape and workmanship of a chair or a chest of drawers, a peRuffs have lisse or a petticoat. given way to lawn handkerchiefs, and velvet suits to plain broad cloth; green, blue, and red have succeeded each other scores of times in the approbation of the fashionable.What then? Are there no real grounds, in such matters as these, for preferring one fashion to another? There are, very frequently; and for the following reasons: Good sense, which is a necessary ingredient in good taste, prescribes that every work of human art should be calculated to promote its own proper end, whether that be pleasure, as in the fine arts, or the prevention of evil, as in most of the mechanical. Every thing, therefore, in the decorations of dress, building, or furniture, which is repugnant to health, comfort, or convenience, is clearly wrong; and such fashions have seldom been permanent, even with the multitude. In such of the fine arts themselves as are connected with purposes of utility, eloquence, architecture, and gardening, any palpable deviation from those purposes, even though attended with pleasure to the imagination, is offensive to taste itself. Further, if articles of furniture or dress can be so ordered as to suggest delightful trains of ideas to the cultivated mind; ideas, for example, connected with classical or feudal antiquity; or to present graceful forms and agreeable combinations of colour to the lover of painting, they become, in the strictest sense, 7 |