considered as permanent and unalterable, and the reader, if he be free from personal prejudices, takes it up with no other intention than of pleasing or instructing himself: he accommodates his mind to the author's design; and having no interest in refusing the amusement that is offered him, never interrupts his own tranquillity by studied cavils, or destroys his satisfaction in that which is already well, by an anxious inquiry how it might be better; but is often contented without pleasure, and pleased without perfection. But if the same man be called to consider the merit of a production yet unpublished, he brings an imagination heated with objections to passages which he has yet never heard; he invokes all the powers of criticism, and stores his memory with Taste and Grace, Purity and Delicacy, Manners and Unities, sounds which, having been once uttered by those that understood them, have been since re-echoed without meaning, and kept up to the disturbance of the world, by a constant repercussion from one coxcomb to another. He considers himself as obliged to show, by some proof of his abilities, that he is not consulted to no purpose, and therefore watches every opening for objection, and looks round for every opportunity to propose some specious alteration. Such opportunities a very small degree of sagacity will enable him to find; for, in every work of imagination, the disposition of parts, the insertion of incidents, and use of decorations, may be varied a thousand ways with equal propriety; and as in things nearly equal, that will always seem best to every man which he himself produces; the critic, whose business is only to propose, without the care of execution, can never want the satisfaction of believing that he has suggested very important improvements, nor the power of enforcing his advice by arguments, which, as they appear convincing to himself, either his kindness or his vanity will press obstinately and importunately without suspicion that he may possibly judge too hastily in favour of his own advice, or inquiry whether the advantage of the new scheme be proportionate to the labour. It is observed by the younger Pliny, that an orator ought not so much to select the strongest arguments which his cause admits, as to employ all which his imagination can afford: for, in pleading, those reasons are of most value, which will most affect the judges; and the judges, says he, will be always most touched with that which they had before conceived. Every man who is called to give his opinion of a performance, decides upon the same principle: he first suffers himself to form expectations, and then is angry at his disappointment. He lets his imagination rove at large, and wonders that another, equally unconfined in the boundless ocean of possibility, takes a different course. But, though the rule of Pliny be judiciously laid down, it is not applicable to the writer's cause, because there always lies an appeal from domestic criticism to a higher judicature, and the public, which is never corrupted, nor often deceived, is to pass the last sentence upon literary claims. Of the great force of preconceived opinions I had many proofs when I first entered upon this weekly labour. My readers having, from the performances of my predecessors, established an idea of unconnected essays, to which they be lieved all future authors under a necessity of conforming, were impatient of the least deviation from their system, and numerous remonstrances were accordingly made by each, as he found his favourite subject omitted or delayed. Some were angry that the Rambler did not, like the Spectator, introduce himself to the acquaintance of the public, by an account of his own birth and studies, an enumeration of his adventures, and a description of his physiognomy. Others soon began to remark that he was a solemn, serious, dictatorial writer, without sprightliness or gayety, and called out with vehemence for mirth and humour. Another admonished him to have a special eye upon the various clubs of this great city, and informed him that much of the Spectator's vivacity was laid out upon such assemblies. He has been censured for not imitating the politeness of his predecessors, having hitherto neglected to take the ladies under his protection, and give them rules for the just opposition of colours, and the proper dimensions of ruffles and pinners. He has been required by one to fix a particular censure upon those matrons who play at cards with spectacles: and another is very much offended whenever he meets with a speculation in which naked precepts are comprised without the illustration of examples and characters. I make not the least question that all these monitors intend the promotion of my design, and the instruction of my readers; but they do not know, or do not reflect, that an author has a rule of choice peculiar to himself; and selects those subjects which he is best qualified to treat, by the course of his studies, or the accidents of his life; that some topics of amusement have been alrea dy treated with too much success to invite a competition; and that he who endeavours to gain many readers must try various arts of invitation, essay every avenue of pleasure, and make frequent changes in his methods of approach. I cannot but consider myself, amidst this tumult of criticism, as a ship in a poetical tempest, impelled at the same time by opposite winds, and dashed by the waves from every quarter, but held upright by the contrariety of the assailants, and secured in some measure by multiplicity of distress. Had the opinion of my censurers been unanimous, it might perhaps have overset my resolution; but since I find them at variance with each other, I can, without scruple, neglect them, and endeavour to gain the favour of the public by following the direction of my own reason, and indulging the sallies of my own imagination. No. 24.] SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1750. Nemo in sese tentat descendere.-PERSIUS. AMONG the precepts, or aphorisms admitted by general consent, and inculcated by frequent repetition, there is none more famous among the masters of ancient wisdom, than that compendious lesson, Tvábi ocavrov, Be acquainted with thyself; ascribed by some to an oracle, and by others to Chilo of Lacedemon. This is, indeed, a dictate, which, in the whole extent of its meaning, may be said to comprise all the speculation requisite to a moral agent. For what more can be necessary to the regulation of life, than the knowledge of our original, our end, our duties, and our relation to other beings? It is however very improbable that the first author, whoever he was, intended it to be understood in this unlimited and complicated sense; for of the inquiries, which in so large an acceptation it would seem to recommend, some are too extensive for the powers of man, and some require light from above, which was not yet indulged to the heathen world. We might have had more satisfaction concerning the original import of this celebrated sentence, if history had informed us, whether it was uttered as a general instruction to mankind, or as a particular caution to some private inquirer; whether it was applied to some single occasion, or laid down as the universal rule of life. There will occur, upon the slightest consideration, many possible círcumstances, in which this monition might very properly be enforced; for every error in human conduct must arise from ignorance in ourselves, either perpetual or temporary; and happen either because we do not know what is best and fittest, or because our knowledge is at the time of action not present to the mind. which the professors of science have been hitherto baffled, is reserved for his genius and industry. He spends his time in the highest room of his house, into which none of his family are suffered to enter; and when he comes down to his dinner, or his rest, he walks about like a stranger that is there only for a day, without any tokens of re gard or tenderness. He has totally divested himself of all human sensations; he has neither eye for beauty, nor ear for complaint; he neither rejoices at the good fortune of his nearest friend, nor mourns for any public or private calamity. Having once received a letter, and given it his servant to read, he was informed, that it was written by his brother, who, being shipwrecked, had swam naked to land, and was destitute of necessaries in a foreign country. Naked and destitute! says Gelidus-reach down the last volume of meteorological observations, extract an exact account of the wind, and note it carefully in the diary of the weather. The family of Gelidus once broke into his study, to show him that a town at a small distance was on fire, and in a few moments a servant came up to tell him, that the flame had caught so many houses on both sides, that the inhabitants were confounded, and began to think of rather escaping with their lives than saving their dwellings. What you tell me, says Gelidus, is very probable, for fire naturally acts in a circle. When a man employs himself upon remote and unnecessary subjects, and wastes his life upon questions which cannot be resolved, and Thus lives this great philosopher, insensible to of which the solution would conduce very little every spectacle of distress, and unmoved by the to the advancement of happiness: when he la- loudest call of social nature, for want of consivishes his hours in calculating the weight of the dering that men are designed for the succour and terraqueous globe, or in adjusting successive sys-comfort of each other; that though there are tems of worlds beyond the reach of the telescope; he may be very properly recalled from his excursions by this precept, and reminded, that there is a nearer being with which it is his duty to be more acquainted; and from which his attention has hitherto been withheld by studies, to which he has no other motive than vanity or curiosity. The great praise of Socrates is, that he drew the wits of Greece, by his instruction and example from the vain pursuit of natural philosophy to moral inquiries, and turned their thoughts from stars and tides, and matter and motion, upon the various modes of virtue and relations of life. All his lectures were but commentaries upon this saying; if we suppose the knowledge of ourselves recommended by Chilo, in opposition to other inquiries less suitable to the state of man. hours which may be laudably spent upon knowledge not immediately useful, yet the first attention is due to practical virtue: and that he may be justly driven out from the commerce of mankind, who has so far abstracted himself from the species, as to partake neither of the joys nor griefs of others, but neglects the endearments of his wife, and the caresses of his children, to count the drops of rain, note the changes of the wind, and calculate the eclipses of the moons of Jupiter. I shall reserve to some future paper the religious and important meaning of this epitome of wisdom, and only remark, that it may be applied to the gay and light, as well as to the grave and solemn parts of life; and that not only the philosopher may forfeit his pretences to real learning, but the wit and beauty may miscarry in their schemes, by the want of this universal requisite, the knowledge of themselves. The great fault of men of learning is still, that they offend against this rule, and appear willing to study any thing rather than themselves; for which reason they are often despised by those It is surely for no other reason, that we see with whom they imagine themselves above com- such numbers resolutely struggling against naparison; despised, as useless to common pur-ture, and contending for that which they never poses, as unable to conduct the most trivial affairs, and unqualified to perform those offices by which the concatenation of society is preserved, and mutual tenderness excited and maintained. can attain, endeavouring to unite contradictions, and determined to excel in characters inconsist ent with each other; that stock-jobbers affect dress, gayety, and elegance, and mathematicians Gelidus is a man of great penetration and deep labour to be wits; that the soldier teases his ac researches. Having a mind naturally formed quaintance with questions in theology, and the for the abstruser sciences, he can comprehend in- academic hopes to divert the ladies by a recital tricate combinations without confusion, and be of his gallantries. That absurdity of pride could ing of a temper naturally cool and equal, he is proceed only from ignorance of themselves, by seldom interrupted by his passions in the pur- which Garth attempted criticism, and Congreve suit of the longest chain of unexpected conse- waived his title to dramatic reputation, and dequences. He has, therefore, a long time indulg-sired to be considered only as a gentleman. ed hopes, that the solution of some problems, by G Euphues, with great parts, and extensive knowledge, has a clouded aspect and ungracious | perhaps, between many other opposite vices; form; yet it has been his ambition, from his and as I have found reason to pay great regard first entrance into life, to distinguish himself by to the voice of the people, in cases where knowparticularities in his dress, to outvie beaus in ledge has been forced upon them by experience, embroidery, to import new trimmings, and to be without long deductions, or deep researches, Í foremost in the fashion. Euphues has turned am inclined to believe, that this distribution of on his exterior appearance that attention which respect is not without some agreement with the would always have produced esteem, had it been nature of things; and that in the faults, which fixed upon his mind; and though his virtues and are thus invested with extraordinary privileges, abilities have preserved him from the contempt there are generally some latent principles of mewhich he has so diligently solicited, he has, at rit, some possibilities of future virtue, which may, least, raised one impediment to his reputation; by degrees, break from obstruction, and by time since all can judge of his dress, but few of his and opportunity be brought into act. understanding; and many, who discern that he is a fop, are unwilling to believe that he can be wise. It may be laid down as an axiom, that it is more easy to take away superfluities than to supply defects; and therefore he that is culpable, because he has passed the middle point of virtue, is always accounted a fairer object of hope, than he who fails by falling short. The one has all that perfection requires, and more, but the ex cess may be easily retrenched; the other wants the qualities requisite to excellence, and who can tell how he shall obtain them? We are certain that the horse may be taught to keep pace with his fellows, whose fault is it that he leaves them behind? We know that a few strokes of the axe will lop a cedar; but what arts of cultivation can elevate a shrub? There is one instance in which the ladies are particularly unwilling to observe the rule of Chilo. They are desirous to hide from themselves the advances of age, and endeavour too frequently to supply the sprightliness and bloom of youth by artificial beauty and forced vivacity. They hope to inflame the heart by glances which have lost their fire, or melt it by languor which is no longer delicate; they play over the airs which pleased at a time when they were expected only to please, and forget that airs ought in time to give place to virtues. They continue to trifle, because they could once trifle agreeably, till To walk with circumspection and steadiness those who shared their early pleasures are with-in the right path, at an equal distance between drawn to more serious engagements; and are scarcely awakened from their dream of perpetual youth, but by the scorn of those whom they endeavour to rival.* the extremes of error, ought to be the constant endeavour of every reasonable being; nor can 1 think those teachers of moral wisdom much to be honoured as benefactors to mankind, who are always enlarging upon the difficulty of our duties, and providing rather excuses for vice, than incentives to virtue. But, since to most it will happen often, and to all sometimes, that there will be a deviation towards one side or the other, we ought always to employ our vigilance, with most attention, on that enemy from which there is the greatest danger, and to stray, if we must stray, towards those parts from whence we may quickly and easily return. THERE are some vices and errors which, though often fatal to those in whom they are found, have yet, by the universal consent of mankind, been Among other opposite qualities of the mind, considered as entitled to some degree of respect, which may become dangerous, though in differor have, at least, been exempted from contemptu-ent degrees, I have often had occasion to consious infamy, and condemned by the severest mo-der the contrary effects of presumption and deralists with pity rather than detestation. spondency; of heady confidence, which proA constant and invariable example of this ge- mises victory without contest, and heartless neral partiality will be found in the different re- pusillanimity, which shrinks back from the gard which has always been shown to rashness thought of great undertakings, confounds diffiand cowardice; two vices, of which, though they culty with impossibility, and considers all admay be conceived equally distant from the mid-vancement towards any new attainment as irredle point, where true fortitude is placed, and may versibly prohibited. equally injure any public or private interest, yet the one is never mentioned without some kind of veneration, and the other always considered as a topic of unlimited and licentious censure, on which all the virulence of reproach may be lawfully exerted. The same distinction is made, by the common suffrage, between profusion and avarice, and, * Mrs. Piozzi says, that by Gelidus, in this paper, the author meant to represent Mr. Coulson, a mathematician, who formerly lived at Rochester. This is not very probaple, if we consider the character Davies gives of Mr. Coulson (Colson) in his Life of Garrick, which was certainly written under Dr. Jonnson's inspection, and, what relates to Colson, probably from his information.-C. Presumption will be easily corrected. Every experiment will teach caution, and miscarriages will hourly show, that attempts are not always rewarded with success. The most precipitate ardour will, in time, be taught the necessity of methodical gradation and preparatory measures; and the most daring confidence be convinced that neither merit nor abilities can command events. It is the advantage of vehemence and activity, that they are always hastening to their own reformation; because they incite us to try whether our expectations are well grounded, and therefore detect the deceits which they are apt to occasion. But timidity is a disease of the mind more obstinate and fatal; for a man once persuaded that any impediment is insuperable, has given it, with respect to himself, that strength and weight which it had not before. He can scarcely strive with vigour and perseverance, when he has no hope of gaining the victory; and since he never will try his strength, can never discover the unreasonableness of his fears. generally attain one of two ends almost equally desirable; they either incite his industry by ele vating his hopes, or produce a high opinion of their own abilities, since they are supposed to relate only what they have found, and to have proceeded with no less ease than they promise to their followers. terrors are multiplied by his hopes, and he is defeated without resistance, because he had no expectation of an enemy. There is often to be found in men devoted to The student, inflamed by this encouragement, literature, a kind of intellectual cowardice, which sets forward in the new path, and proceeds a few whoever converses much among them, may ob- steps with great alacrity, but he soon finds aspeserve frequently to depress the alacrity of enter- rities and intricacies of which he has not been prise, and by consequence to retard the improve- forewarned, and imagining that none ever were ment of science. They have annexed to every so entangled or fatigued before him, sinks sudspecies of knowledge some chimerical character denly into despair, and desists as from an expeof terror and inhibition, which they transmit, with-dition in which fate opposes him. Thus his out much reflection, from one to another; they first fright themselves, and then propagate the panic to their scholars and acquaintance. One study is inconsistent with a lively imagination, another with a solid judgment; one is improper in the early parts of life, another requires so much time, that it is not to be attempted at an advanced age; one is dry and contracts the sentiments, another is diffuse and overburdens the memory; one is insufferable to taste and delicacy, and another wears out life in the study of words, and is use-ing him for tempests. less to a wise man, who desires only the knowledge of things. Of these treacherous instructers, the one destroys industry, by declaring that industry is vain, the other by representing it as needless; the one cuts away the root of hope, the other raises it only to be blasted; the one confines his pupil to the shore, by telling him that his wreck is certain, the other sends him to sea, without prepar False hopes and false terrors are equally to be avoided. Every man, who proposes to grow eminent by learning, should carry in his mind at once the difficulty of excellence and the force of industry; and remember, that fame is not conferred but as the recompense of labour, and that labour vigorously continued has not often failed of its reward. But of all the bugbears of which the infantes barbati, boys both young and old, have been hitherto frighted from digressing into new tracts of learning, none has been more mischievously efficacious than an opinion that every kind of knowledge requires a peculiar genius, or mental constitution framed for the reception of some ideas, and the exclusion of others: and that to him whose genius is not adapted to the study No. 26.] SATURDAY, JUNE 14, 1750. which he prosecutes, all labour shall be vain and fruitless, vain as an endeavour to mingle oil and water, or in the language of chymistry, to amalgamate bodies of heterogeneous principles. This opinion we may reasonably suspect to have been propagated, by vanity, beyond the truth. It is natural for those who have raised a reputation by any science, to exalt themselves as endowed by Heaven with peculiar powers, or marked out by an extraordinary designation for their profession; and to fright competitors away by representing the difficulties with which they must contend, and the necessity of qualities which are supposed to be not generally conferred, and which no man can know but by experience whether he enjoys. To this discouragement it may be possibly answered, that since a genius, whatever it be, is like fire in a flint, only to be produced by collision with a proper subject, it is the business of every man to try whether his faculties may not happily co-operate with his desires; and since they whose proficiency he admires, knew their own force only by the event, he needs but engage in the same undertaking with equal spirit, and may reasonably hope for equal success. There is another species of false intelligence, given by those who profess to show the way to the summit of knowledge, of equal tendency to depress the mind with false distrust of itself, and weaken it by needless solicitude and dejection. When a scholar whom they desire to animate consults them at his entrance on some new study, it is common to make flattering representations of its pleasantness and facility. Thus they Ingentes dominos, et clara nomina fama, SENECA Each mighty lord, big with a pompous name, MR. RAMBLER, ELPHINSTON. IT is usual for men, engaged in the same pursuits, to be inquisitive after the conduct and fortune of each other; and,. therefore, I suppose it will not be unpleasing to you, to read an account of the various changes which have happened in part of a life devoted to literature. My narrative will not exhibit any great variety of events, or extraordinary rovolutions; but may, perhaps, be not less useful, because I shall relate nothing which is not likely to happen to a thousand others. I was born heir to a very small fortune, and left by my father, whom I cannot remember, to the care of an uncle. He having no children, always treated me as his son, and finding in me those qualities which old men easily discover in sprightly children, when they happen to love them, declared that a genius like mine should never be lost for want of cultivation. He therefore placed me, for the usual time, at a great school, and then sent me to the university, with a larger allowance than my own patrimony would have afforded, that I might not keep mean company, but learn to become my dignity when I should | proud to open their purses at my call, and prosbe made lord chancellor, which he often lament-pects of such advancement as would soon reed, that the increase of his infirmities was very likely to preclude him from seeing. This exuberance of money displayed itself in gayety of appearance, and wantonness of expense, and introduced me to the acquaintance of those whom the same superfluity of fortune betrayed to the same license and ostentation: young heirs, who pleased themselves with a remark very frequent in their mouths, that though they were sent by their fathers to the university, they were not under the necessity of living by their learning. Among men of this class I easily obtained the reputation of a great genius, and was persuaded that with such liveliness of imagination, and delicacy of sentiment, I should never be able to submit to the drudgery of the law. I therefore gave myself wholly to the more airy and elegant parts of learning, and was often so much elated with my superiority to the youths with whom I conversed, that I began to listen, with great attention, to those that recommended to me a wider and more conspicuous theatre; and was particularly touched with an observation made by one of my friends-That it was not by lingering in the university that Prior became ambassador, or Addison secretary of state. concile my uncle, whom, upon mature deliberation, I resolved to receive into favour without insisting on any acknowledgment of his offence, when the splendour of my condition should induce him to wish for my countenance. I therefore went up to London, before I had shown the alteration of my condition, by any abatement of my way of living, and was received by all my academical acquaintance with triumph and congratulation. I was immediately introduced among the wits and men of spirit, and in a short time had divested myself of all my scholar's gravity, and obtained the reputation of a pretty fel-. low. You will easily believe that I had no great knowledge of the world; yet I had been hindered, by the general disinclination every man feels to confess poverty, from telling to any one the resolution of my uncle, and for some time subsisted upon the stock of money which I had brought with me, and contributed my share as before to all our entertainments. But my pocket was soon emptied, and I was obliged to ask my friends for a small sum. This was a favour, which we had often reciprocally received from one another; they supposed my wants only accidental, and therefore willingly supplied them. In a short time I found a necessity of asking again, and was again treated with the same civility; but the third time they began to wonder what that old rogue my uncle could mean by sending a gentleman to town without money; and when they gave me what I asked for, advised me to stipulate for more regular remittances. This somewhat disturbed my dream of constant affluence; but I was three days after comMy uncle in the mean time frequently harass-pletely awakened; for entering the tavern where ed me with monitory letters, which I sometimes neglected to open for a week after I received them, and generally read in a tavern, with such comments as might show how much I was superior to instruction or advice. I could not but wonder, how a man confined to the country, and acquainted with the present system of things, should imagine himself qualified to instruct a rising genius, born to give laws to the age, refine its taste, and multiply its pleasures. This desire was hourly increased by the solicitation of my companions, who removing one by one to London, as the caprice of their relations allowed them, or the legal dismission from the hands of their guardians put it in their power, never failed to send an account of the beauty and felicity of the new world, and to remonstrate how much was lost by every hour's continuance in a place of retirement and constraint. The postman, however, still continued to bring me new remonstrances; for my uncle was very little depressed by the ridicule and reproach which he never heard. But men of parts have quick resentments; it was impossible to bear his usurpations for ever; and I resolved, once for all, to make him an example to those who imagine themselves wise because they are old, and to teach young men, who are too tame under representation, in what manner gray-bearded insolence ought to be treated. I therefore one evening took my pen in hand, and after having animated myself with a catch, wrote a general answer to all his precepts with such vivacity of turn, such elegance of irony, and such asperity of sarcasm, that I convulsed a large company with universal laughter, disturbed the neighbourhood with vociferations of applause, and five days afterwards was answered, that I must be content to live upon my own estate. This contraction of my income gave me no disturbance; for a genius like mine was out of the reach of want. I had friends that would be we met every evening, I found the waiters remitted their complaisance, and, instead of contending to light me up stairs, suffered me to wait for some minutes at the bar. When I came to my company, I found them unusually grave and formal, and one of them took the hint to turn the conversation upon the misconduct of young men, and enlarged upon the folly of frequenting the company of men of fortune, without being able to support the expense, an observation which the rest contributed either to enforce by repetition, or to illustrate by examples. Only one of them tried to divert the discourse, and endeavoured to direct my attention to remote questions and common topics. A man guilty of poverty easily believes himself suspected. I went, however, next morning to breakfast with him, who appeared ignorant of the drift of the conversation, and by a series of inquiries drawing still nearer to the point, prevailed on him, not perhaps much against his will, to inform me, that Mr. Dash, whose father was a wealthy attorney near my native place, had, the morning before, received an account of my uncle's resentment, and communicated his intelligence with the utmost industry of grovelling insolence. It was now no longer practicable to consort with my former friends, unless I would be content to be used as an inferior guest, who was to pay for his wine by mirth and flattery; a character which, if I could not escape it, I resolved to endure only among those who had never known |