but when they are reposited in the memory, they are oftener employed for show than use, and rather diversify conversation than regulate life. Few are engaged in such scenes as give them opportunities of growing wiser by the downfal of statesmen or the defeat of generals. The stratagems of war, and the intrigues of courts, are read by far the greater part of man

ter his opinion, can look his neighbours in the face. Bob is the most formidable disputant of the whole company; for, without troubling himself to search for reasons, he tires his antagonist with repeated affirmations. When Bob has been attacked for an hour with all the powers of eloquence and reason, and his position appears to all but himself utterly untenable, he always closes the debate with his first de-kind with the same indifference as the advenclaration, introduced by a stout preface of contemptuous civility, "All this is very judicious; you may talk, Sir, as you please; but I will still say what I said at first." Bob deals much in universals, which he has now obliged us to the let pass without exceptions. He lives on an annuity, and holds that "there are as many thieves as traders;" he is of loyalty unshaken, and always maintains; that "he who sees a Jacobite sees a rascal."

tures of fabled heroes, or the revolutions of a fairy region. Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. As gold which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he cannot apply will make no man wise.

The mischievous consequences of vice and folly, of irregular desires and predominant passions, are best discovered by those relations which are levelled with the general surface of life, which tell not how any man became great, but how he was made happy; not how he lost the favour of his prince, but how he became discontented with himself.

Those relations are therefore commonly of most value in which the writer tells his own story. He that recounts the life of another commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity of his tale to increase its dignity, shows his favourite at distance decorated and magnified like the an cient actors in their tragic dress, and endeayours to hide the man that he may produce a hero.

Phil Gentle is an enemy to the rudeness of contradiction and the turbulance of debate. Phil has no notions of his own, and therefore willingly catches from the last speaker such as he shall drop. This inflexibility of ignorance is easily accommodated to any tenet; his only difficulty is, when the disputants grow zealous, how to be of two contrary opinions at once. If no appeal is made to his judgment, he has the art of distributing his attention and his smiles in such a manner, that each thinks him of his own party; but if he is obliged to speak, he then observes that the question is difficult; that he never received so much plea sure from a debate before; that neither of the But if it be true, which was said by a French contravertists could have found his match in prince, "That no man was a hero to the serany other company; that Mr. Wormwood's vants of his chamber," it is equally true that assertion is very well supported, and yet there every man is yet less a hero to himself. He is great force in what Mr. Scruple advanced that is most elevated above the crowd by the against it. By this indefinite declaration both importance of his employments, or the repuare commonly satisfied; for he that has pre-tation of his genius, feels himself affected by vailed is in good humour; and he that has felt his own weakness is very glad to have escaped I am, Sir, yours, &c.

so well.

ROBIN SPRITELY.

No 84.] SATURDAY, Nov. 24, 1759.

BIOGRAPHY is, of the various kind of narrative writing, that which is most eagerly read, and most easily applied to the purposes of life.

fame or business but as they influence his domestic life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and the same senses, have no less similitudes in their pains and pleasures. The sensations are the same in all, though produced by very different occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an invader seizes a province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his cow. Men thus equal in themselves will appear equal in honest and impartial biography; and those whom fortune or nature place at the greatest distance, may afford instruction to each other.

The writer of his own life has at least the first qualification of an historian, the knowledge of the truth; and though it may be plausibly objected that his temptations to disguise it are equal to his opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality may be expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages of his own life, as from him that delivers the transactions of another.

In romances, when the wide field of possibility lies open to invention, the incidents may easily be made more numerous, the vicissitudes more sudden, and the events more wonderful; but from the time of life when fancy begins to be over-ruled by reason and corrected by experience, the most artful tale raises little curiosity when it is known to be false; though it may, perhaps, be sometimes read as a model of a neat or elegant style, not for the sake of knowing what is contains, but how it is written; Certainty of knowledge not only excludes or those that are weary of themselves, may mistake, but fortifies veracity. What we colhave recourse to it as a pleasing dream, of lect by conjecture, and by conjecture only can which, when they awake, they voluntarily dis-one man judge of another's motives or sentimiss the images from their minds.

The examples and events of history, press, indeed, upon the mind with the weight of truth;

ments, is easily modified by fancy or by desire; as objects imperfectly discerned take forms from the hope or fear of the beholder. But

that which is fully known cannot be falsified but with reluctance of understanding, and alarm of conscience: of understanding, the lover of truth; of conscience, the sentinel of virtue.

|dably employed, for though he exerts no great abilities in the work, he facilitates the progress of others, and by making that easy of attainment which is already written, may give some mind, more vigorous or more adventurous than his own, leisure for new thoughts and original designs.

It is observed that "a corrupt society has many laws:" I know not whether it is not equally true, that "an ignorant age has many ledg lie unexamined, and original authors are neglected and forgotten, compilers and plagiaries are encouraged, who give us again what we had before, and grow great by setting before us what our own sloth had hidden from our view.

He that writes the life of another is either his friend or his enemy, and wishes either to exalt his praise or aggravate his infamy; many But the collections poured lately from the temptations to falsehood wil occur in the dis-press have been seldom made at any great exguise of passions, too specious to fear much pense of time or inquiry, and therefore only resistance. Love of virtue will animate pane- serve to distract choice without supplying any gyric, and hatred of wickedness imbitter cen- real want. sure. The zeal of gratitude, the ardour of patriotism, fondness for an opinion, or fidelity to a party, may easily overpower the vigilance of a mind habitually well disposed, and pre-books." When the treasures of ancient knowvail over unassisted and unfriended veracity. But he that speaks of himself has no motive to falsehood or partiality except self-love, by which all have so often been betrayed, that all are on the watch against its artifices. He that writes an apology for a single action, to confute an accusation, to recommend himself to favour, is indeed always to be suspected of favouring his own cause; but he that sits down calm and voluntarily to review his life for the admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood cannot appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the tomb.

ONE of the peculiarities which distinguish the present age is the multiplication of books. Every day brings new advertisements of literary undertakings, and we are flattered with repeated promises of growing wise on easier terms than our progenitors.

How much either happiness or knowledge is advanced by this multitude of authors, it is not very easy to decide.

He that teaches us any thing which we knew not before, is undoubtedly to be reverenced as a master.

He that conveys knowledge by more pleasing ways, may very properly be loved as a benefactor; and he that supplies life with innocent amusement, will be certainly caressed as a pleasing companion.

But few of those who fill the world with books have any pretensions to the hope either of pleasing or instructing. They have often no other task than to lay two books before them, out of which they compile a third, without any new materials of their own, and with very little application of judgment to those which former authors have supplied.

That all compilations are useless I do not assert. Particles of science are often very widely scattered. Writers of extensive comprehension have incidental remarks upon topics very remote from the principal subject, which are often more valuable than formal treatises, and which yet are not known because they are not promised in the title. He that collects those under proper heads is very lau

Yet are not even these writers to be indiscriminately censured and rejected. Truth, like beauty, varies its fashions, and is best recommended by different dresses to different minds; and he that recalls the attention of mankind to any part of learning which time has left behind it, may be truly said to advance the literature of his own age. As the manners of nations vary, new topics of persuasion become necessary, and new combinations of imagery are produced; and he that can accommodate himself to the reigning taste, may always have readers who perhaps would not have looked upon better performances.

To exact of every man who writes, that he should say something new, would be to reduce authors to a small number; to oblige the most fertile genius to say only what is new wou'd be to contract his volumes to a few pages. Yet, surely, there ought to be some bounds to repetition; libraries ought no more to be heaped for ever with the same thoughts differently expressed, than with the same books differ ently decorated.

The good or evil which these secondary writers produce, is seldom of any long duration. As they owe their existence to change of fashion, they commonly disappear when a new fashion becomes prevalent. The authors that in any nation last from age to age are very few, because there are very few that have any other claim to notice than that they catch holá on present curiosity, and gratify some accidental desire, or produce some temporary conveniency.

But however the writers of the day may despair of future fame, they ought at least to forbear any present mischief. Though they cannot arrive at eminent heights of excellence, they might keep themselves harmless. They might take care to inform themselves before they attempt to inform others, and exert the little influence which they have for honest purposes.

But such is the present state of our literature, that the ancient sage, who thought "a great book a great evil," would now think the multitude of books a multitude of evils. He

would consider a bulky writer who engrossed 2 year, and a swarm of pamphleteers who stole each an hour, as equal wasters of human life, and would make no other difference between them, than between a beast of prey and a flight of locusts.

I had civility enough to hear every recommendation with a look of curiosity while it No. 87.] SATURDAY, Dec. 15, 1759. was made, and of acquiescence when it was

concluded, put in my heart felt no other desire Or what we know not, we can only judge by than to be free from the disgrace of a second what we know. Every novelty appears more

wonderfu' as it is more remote from any thing | the politest nations, nor has the roughness and with which experience or testimony have hi- brutality of more savage countries ever pro therto acquainted us; and if it passes farther voked them to doom their male associates to beyond the notions that we have been accus- irrevocable banishment. The Bohemian matomed to form, it becomes at last incredible.trons are said to have made one short struggle We seldom consider that human knowledge for superiority, but instead of banishing the is very narrow, that national manners are men, they contented themselves with condemnformed by chance, that uncommon conjunc- ing them to servile offices; and their constitures of causes produce rare effects, or that tution thus left imperfect, was quickly overwhat is impossible at one time or place may thrown. yet happen in another. It is always easier to deny than to inquire. To refuse credit confers for a moment an appearance of superiority, which every little mind is tempted to assume when it may be gained so cheaply as by withdrawing attention from evidence, and declining the fatigue of comparing probabilities. The most pertinacious and vehement demonstrator may be wearied in time by continual negation; and incredulity, which an old poet, in his address to Raleigh, calls "the wit of fools," obtunds the argument which it cannot answer, as woolsacks deaden arrows though they cannot repel them.

Many relations of travellers have been slighted as fabulous, till more frequent voyages have confirmed their veracity; and it may reasonably be imagined, that many ancient historians are unjustly suspected of falsehood, because our own times afford nothing that resembles what they tell.

There is, I think, no class of English women from whom we are in any danger of Amazonian usurpation. The old maids seem nearest to independence, and most likely to be animated by revenge against masculine authority; they often speak of men with acrimonious vehemence, but it is seldom found that they have any settled hatred against them, and it is yet more rarely observed that they have any kindness for each other. They will not easily combine in any plot; and if they should ever agree to retire and fortify themselves in castles or in mountains, the sentinel will betray the passes in spite, and the garrison will capitulate upon easy terms, if the besiegers have handsome sword knots, and are well supplied with fringe and lace.

The gamesters, if they were united, would make a formidable body; and since they consider men only as beings that are to lose their money, they might live together without any wish for the officiousness of gallantry, or the delights of diversified conversation. But as nothing would hold them together but the hope of plundering one another, their government would fail from the defect of its principles, the men would need only to neglect them, and they would perish in a few weeks by a civi. war.

Had only the writers of antiquity informed us that there was once a nation in which the wife lay down upon the burning pile, only to mix her ashes with those of her husband, we should have thought it a tale to be told with that of Endymion's commerce with the Moon. Had only a single traveller related that many nations of the earth were black, we should have thought the accounts of the Negroes and I do not mean to censure the ladies of Engof the Phoenix equally credible. But of black land as defective in knowledge or in spirit, men the numbers are too great who are now when I suppose them unlikely to revive the repining under English cruelty, and the cus-military honours of their sex. The character tom of voluntary cremation is not yet lost among the ladies of India.

Few narratives will either to men or women appear more incredible than the histories of the Amazons; of female nations of whose constitution it was the essential and fundamental law, to exclude men from all participation either of public affairs or domestic business; where female armies marched under female captains, female farmers gathered the harvest, female partners danced together, and female wits diverted one another.

of the ancient Amazons was rather terrible than lovely; the hand could not be very delicate that was only employed in drawing the bow and brandishing the battle-axe; their power was maintained by cruelty, their courage was deformed by ferocity, and their example only shows that men and women live best together.

No. 88.] SATURDAY, DEC. 22, 1759.

Yet several sages of antiquity have transmitted accounts of the Amazons of Caucasus; WHEN the philosophers of the last age were and of the Amazons of America, who have first congregated into the Royal Society, great given their name to the greatest river in the expectations were raised of the sudden proworld. Condamine lately found such memo-gress of useful arts; the time was supposed to rials, as can be expected among erratic and unlettered nations, where events are recorded only by tradition, and new swarms settling in the country from time to time, confuse and efface all traces of former times.

To die with husbands, or to live without them, are the two extremes which the prudence and moderation of European ladies have, in all ages, equally declined; they have never been allured to death by the kindness or civility of

be near, when engines should turn by a perpetual motion, and health be secured by the universal medicine; when learning should be facilitated by a real character, and commerce extended by ships which could reach their ports in defiance of the tempest.

But improvement is naturally slow. The Society met and parted without any visible diminution of the miseries of life. The gout and stone were still painful, the ground that

was not ploughed brought no harvest, and neither oranges nor grapes would grow upon the hawthorn. At last, those who were disappointed began to be angry; those, likewise, who hated innovation were glad to gain an opportunity of ridiculing men who had depreciated, perhaps, with too much arrogance, the knowledge of antiquity. And it appears from some of their earliest apologies, that the philosophers felt with great sensibility the unwelcome importunities of those, who were daily asking, "What have ye done?"

tudes about him is himself little more than nothing. Every man is obliged by the Su preme Master of the universe to improve all the opportunities of good which are afforded him, and to keep in continual activity such abilities as are bestowed upon him. But he has no reason to repine, though his abilities are small and his opportunities few. He that has improved the virtue, or advanced the happiness of one fellow-creature, he that has ascertained a single moral proposition, or added one useful experiment to natural knowl The truth is, that little had been done com-edge, may be contented with his own perform pared with what fame had been suffered to promise; and the question could only be answered by general apologies and by new hopes, which, when they were frustrated, gave a new occasion to the same vexatious inquiry. This fatal question has disturbed the quiet

ance, and, with respect to mortals like him self, may demand, like Augustus, to be dia missed at his departure with applause.

of many other minds. He that in the latter No. 89.] SATURDAY, DEC. 29, 1759.
part of his life too strictly inquires what he has
done, can very seldom receive from his own
heart such an account as will give him satis-
faction.

̓Ανέχου καὶ ἀπέχου.

EPICT.

How evil came into the world-for what rea son it is that life is overspread with such boundless varieties of misery-why the only thinking being of this globe is doomed to think, merely to be wretched, and to pass his time from youth to age in fearing or in suffer calamities, is a question which philosophers have long asked, and which philosophy could never answer.

We do not, indeed, so often disappoint others as ourselves. We not only think more highly than others of our own abilities, but allow ourselves to form hopes which we never communicate, and please our thoughts with employments which none ever will allot us, and with elevations to which we are never expecting ed to rise; and when our days and years are passed away in common business or common anusements, and we find, at last, that we have suffered our purposes to sleep till the time of action is past, we are reproached only by our own reflections; neither our friends nor our enemies wonder that we live and die like the rest of mankind; that we live without notice, and die without memorial; they know not what task we had proposed, and, therefore, cannot discern whether it is finished.

He that compares what ne has done with what he has left undone, will feel the effect which must always follow the comparison of imagination with reality; he will look with contempt on his own unimportance, and wonder to what purpose he came into the world; he will repine that he shall leave behind him no evidence of his having been, that he has added nothing to the system of life, but has glided from youth to age among the crowd, without any effort for distinction.

Religion informs us that misery and sin were produced together. The depravation of human will was followed by a disorder of the harmony of nature; and by that Providence which often places antidotes in the neighbour hood of poisons, vice was checked by misery, lest it should swell to universal and unlimited dominion.

A state of innocence and happiness is so remote from all that we have ever seen, that though we can easily conceive it possible, and may, therefore, hope to attain it, yet our speculations upon it must be general and confused. We can discover that where there is universal innocence, there will probably be universal happiness; for why should afflictions be per. mitted to infest beings who are not in danger of corruption from blessings, and where there is no use of terror nor cause of punishment? But in a world like ours, where our senses Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion assault us, and our hearts betray us, we should of his own dignity, or to believe that he does pass on from crime to crime, heedless and little only because every individual is a very remorseless, if misery did not stand in our little being. He is better content to want dili-way, and our own pains admonish us of our gence then power, and sooner confesses the folly. depravity of his will than the imbecility of his

nature.

Álmost all the moral good which is left among us, is the apparent effect of physical evil.

From this mistaken notion of human greatness it proceeds, that many who pretend to Goodness is divided by divines into soberhave made great advances in wisdom so loudlyness, righteousness, and godliness. Let it be declare that they despise themselves. If I had examined how each of these duties would be ever found any of the self-contemners much practised if there were no physical evil to enirritated or pained by the consciousness of force it. their meanness, I should have given them consolation by observing, that a little more than nothing is as much as can be expected from a being who, with respect to the multi

Sobriety, or temperance, is nothing but the forbearance of pleasure; and if pleasure was not followed by pain, who would forbear it? We see every hour those in whom the desire of