for aldus

Γίγνεται ἡ ἄνδρας μέγα σινεται ἠδ ̓ ὀνίνησι.

Shame greatly hurts or greatly helps mankind.

SIR,

TO THE RAMBLER.

ELPHINSTON

inclined to receive tragi-comedy to his protec-| No. 157.] TUESDAY, SEPT. 17, 1751. tion, whom, however generally condemned, her own laurels have hitherto shaded from the fulminations of criticism. For what is there in the mingled drama which impartial reason can condemn? The connexion of important with trivial incidents, since it is not only common but perpetual in the world, may surely be allowed upon the stage, which pretends only to be the mirror of life. The impropriety of suppressing passions THOUGH one of your correspondents has pre before we have raised them to the intended agi-sumed to mention with some contempt that pretation, and of diverting the expection from an sence of attention, and easiness of address, which event which we keep suspended only to raise it, the polite have long agreed to celebrate and esmay be speciously urged. But will not expe- teem, yet I cannot be persuaded to think them rience show this objection to be rather subtile unworthy of regard or cultivation; but am in than just? Is it not certain that the tragic and clined to believe that, as we seldom value rightly comic affections have been moved alternately what we have never known the misery of wantwith equal force; and that no plays have oftener ing, his judgment has been vitiated by his happifilled the eye with tears, and the breast withness; and that a natural exuberance of assurance palpitation, than those which are variegated with has hindered him from discovering its excellence interludes of mirth? and use.

I do not however think it safe to judge of works of genius merely by the event. The resistless vicissitudes of the heart, this alternate prevalence of merriment and solemnity, may sometimes be more properly ascribed to the vigour of the writer than the justness of the design: and, instead of vindicating tragi-comedy by the success of Shakspeare, we ought, perhaps, to pay new honours to that transcendent and unbounded genius that could preside over the passions in sport; who, to actuate the affections, needed not the slow gradation of common means, but could fill the heart with instantaneous jollity to sorrow, and vary our disposition as he changed his scenes. Perhaps the effects even of Shakspeare's poetry might have been yet greater had he not counteracted himself; and we might have been more interested in the distresses of his heroes, had we not been so frequently diverted by the jokes of his buffoons.

This felicity, whether bestowed by constitution, or obtained by early habitudes, I can scarcely contemplate without envy. I was bred under a man of learning in the country, who inculcated nothing but the dignity of knowledge, and the happiness of virtue. By frequency of admonition, and confidence of assertion, he prevailed upon me to believe, that the splendour of literature would always attract reverence, if not darkened by corruption. I therefore pursued my studies with incessant industry, and avoided every thing which I had been taught to consider either as vicious or tending to vice, because I regarded guilt and reproach as inseparably united, and thought a tainted reputation the greatest calamity.

At the university, I found no reason for changing my opinion: for though many among my fellow-students took the opportunity of a more remiss discipline to gratify their passions; There are other rules more fixed and obliga- yet virtue preserved her natural superiority, and tory. It is necessary that of every play the chief those who ventured to neglect were not suffered action should be single; for, since a play repre- to insult her. The ambition of petty accomsents some transaction through its regular ma-plishments found its way into the receptacles turation to its final event, two actions equally important must evidently constitute two plays.

As the design of tragedy is to instruct by moving the passions, it must always have a hero, a personage, apparently and incontestably superior to the rest, upon whom the attention may be fixed, and the anxiety suspended. For though, of two persons opposing each other with equal abilities and equal virtue, the auditor will inevitably, in time, choose his favourite; yet, as that choice must be without any cogency of conviction, the hopes or fears which it raises will be faint and languid. Of two heroes acting in confederacy against a common enemy, the virtues or dangers will give little emotion, because each claims our concern with the same right, and the heart lies at rest between equal motives.

It ought to be the first endeavour of a writer to distinguish nature from custom; or that which is established because it is right, from that which is right only because it is established; that he may neither violate essential principles by a desire of novelty, nor debar himself from the attainment of beauties within his view, by a needless fear of breaking rules which no literary dictator had authority to enact.

of learning, but was observed to seize commonly on those who either neglected the sciences or could not attain them; and I was therefore confirmed in the doctrines of my old master, and thought nothing worthy of my care but the means of gaining or imparting knowledge.

This purity of manners, and intenseness of application, soon extended my renown, and I was applauded, by those whose opinion I then thought unlikely to deceive me, as a young man that gave uncommon hopes of future eminence. My performances in time reached my native province, and my relations congratulated them selves upon the new honours that were added to their family.

I returned home covered with academical laurels, and fraught with criticism and philosophy. The wit and the scholar excited curiosity, and my acquaintance was solicited by innumerable invitations. To please will always be the wish of benevolence, to be admired must be the constant aim of ambition; and I therefore considered myself as about to receive the reward of my honest labours, and to find the efficacy of learning and of virtue.

The third day after my arrival I dined at the house of a gentleman who had summoned a mul

praise, and, after having borrowed and invented, chosen and rejected, a thousand sentiments, which, if I had uttered them, would not have been understood, I was awakened from my dream of learned gallantry by the servant who distributed the tea.

titude of his friends to the annual celebration of | sidered whatever the poets have sung in their his wedding-day. I set forward with great exuitation, and thought myself happy that I had an opportunity of displaying my knowledge to so numerous an assembly. I felt no sense of my own insufficiency, till, going up stairs to the dining-room, I heard the mingled roar of obstreperous merriment. I was, however, disgusted There are not many situations more incesrather than terrified, and went forward without santly uneasy than that in which the man is dejection. The whole company rose at my en-placed who is watching an opportunity to speak, trance; but when I saw so many eyes fixed at once upon me, I was blasted with a sudden imbecility, I was quelled by some nameless power which I found impossible to be resisted. My sight was dazzled, my cheeks glowed, my perceptions were confounded; I was harassed by the multitude of eager salutations, and returned the common civilities with hesitation and impropriety; the sense of my own blunders increased my confusion, and before the exchange of ceremonies allowed me to sit down, I was ready to sink under the impression of surprise; my voice grew weak, and my knees trembled.

without courage to take it when it is offered, and who, though he resolves to give a specimen of his abilities, always finds some reason or other for delaying it to the next minute. I was ashamed of silence, yet could find nothing to say of elegance or importance equal to my wishes. The ladies, afraid of my learning, thought themselves not qualified to propose any subject of prattle to a man so famous for dispute, and there was nothing on either side but impatience and vexation.

In this conflict of shame, as I was re-assembling my scattered sentiments, and, resolving to The assembly then resumed their places, and force my imagination to some sprightly sally, I sat with my eyes fixed upon the ground. To had just found a very happy compliment, by too the questions of curiosity, or the appeals of com- much attention to my own meditations, I sufplaisance, I could seldom answer but with nega-fered the saucer to drop from my hand. The tive monosyllables, or professions of ignorance; for the subjects on which they conversed were such as are seldom discussed in books, and were therefore out of my range of knowledge. At length an old clergyman, who rightly conjectured the reason of my conciseness, relieved me by some questions about the present state of natural knowledge, and engaged me, by an appearance of doubt and opposition, in the explication and defence of the Newtonian philosophy.

The consciousness of my own abilities roused me from depression, and long familiarity with my subject enabled me to discourse with ease and volubility; but, however I might please my self, I found very little added by my demonstrations to the satisfaction of the company; and my antagonist, who knew the laws of conversation too well to detain their attention long upon an unpleasing topic, after he had commended my acuteness and comprehension, dismissed the controversy, and resigned me to my former insignificance and perplexity.

After dinner I received from the ladies, who had heard that I was a wit, an invitation to the tea-table. I congratulated myself upon an opportunity to escape from the company, whose gayety began to be tumultuous, and among whom several hints had been dropped of the uselessness of universities, the folly of booklearning, and the awkwardness of scholars. To the ladies, therefore, I flew, as to a refuge from clamour, insult and rusticity; but found my heart sink as I approached their apartment, and was again disconcerted by the ceremonies of entrance, and confounded by the necessity of encountering so many eyes at once.

When I sat down I considered that something pretty was always said to ladies, and resolved to recover my credit by some elegant observation or graceful compliment. I applied myself to the recollection of all that I had read or heard in praise of beauty, and endeavoured to accommodate some classical compliment to the present occasion. I sunk into profound meditation, revolve the characters of the heroines of old, con

cup was broken, the lap-dog was scalded, a brocaded petticoat was stained, and the whole assembly was thrown into disorder. I now considered all hopes of reputation as at an end, and while they were consoling and assisting one another, stole away in silence.

The misadventures of this unhappy day are not yet at an end; I am afraid of meeting the meanest of them that triumphed over me in this state of stupidity and contempt, and feel the same terrors encroaching upon my heart at the sight of those who have once impressed them. Shame, above any other passion, propagates itself. Before those who have seen me confused, I never appear without new confusion; and the remembrance of the weakness which I formerly discovered, hinders me from acting or speaking with my natural force.

But is this misery, Mr. Rambler, never to cease? Have I spent my life in study only to become the sport of the ignorant, and debarred myself from all the common enjoyments of youth to collect ideas which must sleep in silence, and form opinions which I must not divulge? Inform me, dear Sir, by what means I may rescue my faculties from these shackles of cowardice, how I may rise to a level with my fellow-beings, recall myself from this languor of involuntary subjection to the free exertion of my intellects, and add to the power of reasoning the liberty of speech.

I am, Sir, &c

VERECUNDULUS.

No. 158.] SATURDAY, SEPT. 21, 1751.
Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est.

HOR.

-Critics yet contend, And of their vain disputings find no end. FRANCIS CRITICISM, though dignified from the earliest ages by the labours of men eminent for knowledge and sagacity, and, since the revival of polite literature, the favourite study of European scho

lars, has not yet attained the certainty and sta-scendent merit, and may be sometimes recom bility of science. The rules hitherto received are seldom drawn from any settled principle or selfevident postulate, or adapted to the natural and invariable constitution of things; but will be found, upon examination, the arbitrary edicts of legislators, authorised only by themselves, who, out of various means by which the same end may be attained, selected such as happened to occur to their own reflection, and then, by a law which idleness and timidity were too willing to obey, prohibited new experiments of wit, restrained fancy from the indulgence of her innate inclination to hazard and adventure, and condemned all future flights of genius to pursue the path of the Meonian eagle.

This authority may be more justly opposed, as it is apparently derived from them whom they endeavour to control; for we owe few of the rules of writing to the acuteness of critics, who have generally no other merit than that, having read the works of great authors with attention, they have observed the arrangement of their matter, or the graces of their expression, and then expected honour and reverence for precepts which they never could have invented: so that practice has introduced rules, rather than rules have directed practice.

mended to weak judgments by the lustre which they obtained from their union with excellence; but it is the business of those who presume to superintend the taste or morals of mankind, to separate delusive combinations, and distinguish that which may be praised from that which can only be excused. As vices never promote happiness, though, when overpowered by more active and more numerous virtues, they cannot totally destroy it; so confusion and irregularity produce no beauty, though they cannot always obstruct the brightness of genius and learning. To proceed from one truth to another, and connect distant propositions by regular consequences, is the great prerogative of man. Independent and unconnected sentiments flashing upon the mind in quick succession, may, for a time, delight by their novelty; but they differ from systematical reasoning, as single notes from harmony, as glances of lightning from the radiance of the sun.

When rules are thus drawn, rather from precedents than reason, there is danger not only from the faults of an author, but from the errors of those who criticise his works; since they may often mislead their pupils by false representations, as the Ciceronians of the sixteenth century were betrayed into barbarisms by corrupt copies of their darling writer.

For this reason the laws of every species of writing have been settled by the ideas of him It is established at present, that the proëmial who first raised it to reputation, without inquiry lines of a poem, in which the general subject is whether his performances were not yet suscepti-proposed, must be void of glitter and embellishble of improvement. The excellences and faults ment. "The first lines of Paradise Lost," says of celebrated writers have been equally recom- Addison, "are perhaps as plain, simple, and unmended to posterity; and, so far has blind reve-adorned, as any of the whole poem; in which rence prevailed, that even the number of their books has been thought worthy of imitation.

The imagination of the first authors of lyric poetry was vehement and rapid, and their knowledge various and extensive. Living in an age when science had been little cultivated, and when the minds of their auditors, not being accustomed to accurate inspection, were easily dazzled by glaring ideas, they applied themselves to instruct, rather by short sentences and striking thoughts, than by regular argumentation; and, finding at tention more successfully excited by sudden sallies and unexpected exclamations, than by the more artful and placid beauties of methodical deduction, they loosed their genius to its own course, passed from one sentiment to another without expressing the intermediate ideas, and roved at large over the ideal world with such lightness and agility, that their footsteps are scarcely to be traced.

From this accidental peculiarity of the ancient writers, the critics deduce the rules of lyric poetry, which they have set free from all the laws by which other compositions are confined, and allow to neglect the niceties of transition, to start into remote digressions, and to wander without restraint from one scene of imagery to another.

A writer of later times has, by the vivacity of his essays, reconciled mankind to the same licentiousness in short dissertations; and he therefore who wants skill to form a plan, or diligence to pursue it, needs only entitle his performance an essay, to acquire the right of heaping together the collections of half his life, without order, coherence, or propriety.

In writing, as in life, faults are endured without disgust when they are associated with tran

particular the author has conformed himself to the example of Homer, and the precept of Horace."

This observation seems to have been made by an implicit adoption of the common opinion, without consideration either of the precept or example. Had Horace been consulted, he would have been found to direct only what should be comprised in the proposition, not how it should be expressed; and to have commended Homer in opposition to a meaner poet, not for the gradual elevation of his diction, but the judicious expansion of his plan; for displaying unpromised events, not for producing unexpected elegances: -Speciosa dehinc miracula promit,

Antiphaten, Scyllamque et cum Cyclope Charybdim

But from a cloud of smoke he breaks to light,
And pours his specious miracles to sight;
Antiphates his hideous feast devours,

Charybdis barks, and Polyphemus roars.-FRANCIS

If the exordial verses of Homer be compared with the rest of the poem, they will not appear remarkable for plainness or simplicity, but rather eminently adorned and illuminated:

*Ανδρά μοι ἔννεπε Μοῦσα πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ
Πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσε·
Πολλῶν δ' ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα, καὶ νέον ἔγνω·
Πολλὰ δ' ὃγ ̓ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὅν κατὰ θυμὶν,
Αρνύμενος ήν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων·
Αλλ' οὐδ ̓ ὣς ετάρους ἐρρύσατο ἱέμενός περ'
Αὐτῶν γὰρ σφετέρησιν ἀτασθαλίησιν ὄλοντο·
Νήπιοι, οἵ κατὰ βοῦς ὑπερίονος Ηελίοιο
*Ησθιον· αὐτὰρ ὁ τοῖσιν ἀφείλετο νόστιμον ἦμαρ
Τῶν ἀμόθεν γε, θεὰ, θύγατερ Διὸς εἰπὲ καὶ ἡμῖν

The man for wisdom's various arts renown'd,
Long exercised in woes, O Muse! resound;
Who when his arms had wrought the destined fall
Of sacred Troy, and razed her heaven-built wall.

The first verses of the Iliad are in like manner particularly splendid, and the proposition of the Eneid closes with dignity and magnificence not often to be found even in the poetry of Virgil.

The intent of the introduction is to raise expectation and suspend it: something therefore must be discovered, and something concealed; and the poet, while the fertility of his invention is yet unknown, may properly recommend himself by the grace of his language.

He that reveals too much, or promises too little; he that never irritates the intellectual appetite, or that immediately satiates it, equally defeats his own purpose. It is necessary to the pleasure of the reader, that the events should not be anticipated; and how then can his attention be invited, but by grandeur of expression?

No. 159.] TUESDAY, SEPT. 24, 1751.

HOR.

FRANCIS.

Sunt verba et voces, quibus hunc lenire dolorem Possis et magnam morbi deponere partem. The power of words, and soothing sounds, appease The raging pain, and lessen the disease. THE imbecility with which Verecundulus complains that the presence of a numerous assembly freezes his faculties, is particularly incident to the studious part of mankind, whose education necessarily secludes them in their earlier years from mingled converse, till, at their dismission from schools and academies, they plunge at once into the tumult of the world, and coming forth from the gloom of solitude, are overpowered by the blaze of public life.

It is perhaps kindly provided by nature, that, as the feathers and strength of a bird grow together, and her wings are not completed till she is able to fly, 30 some proportion should be preserved in the human kind between judgment and courage; the precipitation of inexperience is therefore restrained by shame, and we remain shackled by timidity till we have learned to speak and act with propriety.

Bashfulness, however it may incommode for a moment, scarcely ever produces evils of long continuance; it may flush the cheek, flutter in the heart, deject the eyes, and enchain the tongue, but its mischiefs soon pass off without remembrance. It may sometimes exclude pleasure, but seldom opens any avenue to sorrow or remorse. It is observed somewhere, that few have repented of having foreborne to speak.

To excite opposition, and inflame malevolence, is the unhappy privilege of courage made arrogant by consciousness of strength. No man finds in himself inclination to attack or opany pose him who confesses his superiority by blushing in his presence. Qualities exerted with apparent fearfulness receive applause from every voice, and support from every hand. Diffidence may check resolution and obstruct performance, but compensates embarrassments by more imsoftens the severe, averts envy from excellence, portant advantages: it conciliates the proud, and and censure from miscarriage.

It may indeed happen that knowledge and virtue remain too long congealed by this frigorific power, as the principles of vegetation are sometimes obstructed by lingering frosts. He that enters late into a public station, though with all the abilities requisite to the discharge of his duty, will find his powers at first impeded by a timidity which he himself knows to be vicious, and must struggle long against dejection and reluctance, before he obtains the full command of his own attention, and adds the gracefulness of ease to the dignity of merit.

For this disease of the mind I know not whether any remedies of much efficacy can be found. To advise a man unaccustomed to the eyes of multitudes to mount a tribunal without perturbation, to tell him whose life was passed in the shades of contemplation, that he must not be disconcerted or perplexed in receiving and returning the compliments of a splendid assembly, is to advise an inhabitant of Brazil or Sumatra not to shiver at an English winter, or him who has always lived upon a plain to look upon a precipice without emotion. It is to suppose custom in stantaneously controllable by reason, and to endeavour to communicate, by precept, that which only time and habit can bestow.

He that hopes by philosophy and contempla tion alone to fortify himself against that awe which all, at their first appearance on the stage of life, must feel from the spectators, will, at the hour of need, be mocked by his resolution; and I doubt whether the preservatives which Plato relates Alcibiades to have received from Socrates, when he was about to speak in public, proved sufficient to secure him from the powerful fascination.

I believe few can review the days of their youth without recollecting temptations which shame rather than virtue enabled them to resist; and opinions which, however erroneous in their principles and dangerous in their consequences, they have panted to advance at the hazard of contempt and hatred, when they found themselves irresistibly depressed by a languid anxiety which Yet, as the effects of time may by art and inseized them at the moment of utterance, and still dustry be accelerated or retarded, it cannot be gathered strength from their endeavours to re-improper to consider how this troublesome insist it.

It generally happens that assurance keeps an even pace with ability; and the fear of miscarriage, which hinders our first attempts, is gradually dissipated as our skill advances towards certainty of success. That bashfulness, therefore, which prevents disgrace, that short and temporary shame which secures us from the danger of lasting reproach, cannot be properly counted among our misfortunes.

stinct may be opposed when it exceeds its just proportion, and instead of repressing petulance and temerity, silences eloquence, and debilitates force; since, though it cannot be hoped that anxiety should be immediately dissipated, it may be at least somewhat abated; and the passions will operate with less violence when Reason rises against them, than while she either slumbers in neutrality, or, mistaking her interest, lends them her assistance.

No cause more frequently produces bashful- itself obscure, and when we have no wish to see ness than too high an opinion of our own import- it, easily escapes our notice, or takes such a form ance. He that imagines an assembly filled with as desire or imagination bestows upon it. his merit, panting with expectation, and hushed Every man might, for the same reason, in the with attention, easily terrifies himself with the multitudes that swarm about him, find some kindread of disappointing them, and strains his ima- dred mind with which he could unite in configination in pursuit of something that may vindi- dence and friendship; yet we see many strag cate the veracity of fame, and show that his repu- gling single about the world, unhappy for want tation was not gained by chance. He considers, of an associate, and pining with the necessity of that what he shall say or do will never be forgot confining their sentiments to their own bosoms. ten; that renown or infamy is suspended upon This inconvenience arises in like manner, from every syllable, and that nothing ought to fall from struggles of the will against the understanding. him which will not bear the test of time. Under It is not often difficult to find a suitable companion, such solicitude, who can wonder that the mind is if every man would be content with such as he is overwhelmed, and, by struggling with attempts qualified to please. But if vanity tempts him to above her strength, quickly sinks into languish-forsake his rank, and post himself among those ment and despondency! with whom no common interest or mutual pleasure can ever unite him, he must always live in a state of unsocial separation, without tenderness and without trust.

The most useful medicines are often unpleasing to the taste. Those who are oppressed by their own reputation, will, perhaps, not be comforted by hearing that their cares are unneces- There are many natures which can never apsary. But the truth is, that no man is much re-proach within a certain distance, and which, when garded by the rest of the world. He that consi- any irregular motive impels them towards conders how little he dwells upon the condition of tact, seem to start back from each other by some others, will learn how little the attention of others invincible repulsion. There are others which is attracted by himself. While we see multi-immediately cohere whenever they come into the tudes passing before us, of whom, perhaps, not reach of mutual attraction, and with very little one appears to deserve our notice, or excite our formality of preparation mingle intimately as sympathy, we should remember, that we likewise soon as they meet. Every man, whom either buare lost in the same throng; that the eye which siness or curiosity has thrown at large into the happens to glance upon us is turned in a moment world, will recollect many instances of fondness on him that follows us; and that the utmost and dislike, which have forced themselves upon which we can reasonably hope or fear is, to fill a him without the intervention of his judgment; vacant hour with prattle, and be forgotten. of dispositions to court some and avoid others, when he could assign no reason for the preference, or none adequate to the violence of his passions; of influence that acted instantaneously upon his mind, and which no arguments or persuasions could ever overcome.

No. 160.] SATURDAY, SEPT. 28, 1751.

-Inter se convcnit ursis.

Beasts of each kind their fellows spare;
Bear lives in amity with bear.

JUV.

"THE world," says Locke, "has people of all sorts." As in the general hurry produced by the superfluities of some, and necessities of others, no man needs to stand still for want of employment, so in the innumerable gradations of ability, and endless varieties of study and inclination, no employment can be vacant for want of a man qualified to discharge it.

Among those with whom time and intercourse have made us familiar, we feel our affections divided in different proportions without much regard to moral or intellectual merit. Every man knows some whom he cannot induce himself to trust, though he has no reason to suspect that they would betray him; those to whom he cannot complain, though he never observed them to want compassion; those in whose presence he never can be gay, though excited by invitations to mirth and freedom; and those from whom he cannot be content to receive instruction, though they never insulted his ignorance by contempt or ostentation.

Such is probably the natural state of the universe; but it is so much deformed by interest and passion, that the benefit of his adaptation of men to things is not always perceived. The folly or That much regard is to be had to those inindigence of those who set their services to sale, stincts of kindness and dislike, or that reason inclines them to boast of qualifications which should blindly follow them, I am far from intendthey do not possess, and attempt business which ing to inculcate : it is very certain, that by indulthey do not understand; and they who have the gence we may give them strength which they power of assigning to others the task of life, are have not by nature; and almost every example seldom honest or seldom happy in their nomina- of ingratitude and treachery proves, that by obey. tions. Patrons are corrupted by avarice, cheated ing them we may commit our happiness to those by credulity, or overpowered by resistless soli- who are very unworthy of so great a trust. But it citation. They are sometimes too strongly influ-may deserve to be remarked, that since few conenced by honest prejudices of friendship, or the prevalence of virtuous compassion. For, whatever cool reason may direct, it is not easy for a man of tender and scrupulous goodness to overlook the immediate effect of his own actions, by turning his eyes upon remoter consequences, and to do that which must give present pain, for the sake of obviating evil yet unfelt, or securing advantage in time to come. What is distant is in i

tend much with their inclinations, it is generally vain to solicit the good-will of those whom we perceive thus involuntarily alienated from us; neither knowledge nor virtue will reconcile antipathy; and though officiousness may for a time be admitted, and diligence applauded, they will at last be dismissed with coldness, or discouraged by neglect.

Some have indeed an eccult power of stealing