ation; and that to guilt so easily detected, and so severely punished, an adequate temptation would not readily be found.

seminaries of learning. The friendship of stu- | that none should expose himself to unabated dents and of beauties is for the most part equally and unpitied infamy, without an adequate tempt sincere, and equally durable: as both depend for happiness on the regard of others, on that of which the value arises merely from comparison, they are both exposed to perpetual jealousies, and both incessantly employed in schemes to intercept the praises of each other.

I am, however, far from intending to inculcate that this confinement of the studious to studious companions, has been wholly without advantage to the public: neighbourhood, where it does not conciliate friendship, incites competition; and he that would contentedly rest in a lower degree of excellence, where he had no rival to dread, will be urged by his impatience of inferiority to incessant endeavours after great attainments.

These stimulations of honest rivalry are, perhaps, the chief effects of academies and societies; for whatever be the bulk of their joint labours, every single piece is always the production of an individual, that owes nothing to his colleagues but the contagion of diligence, a resolution to write, because the rest are writing, and the scorn of obscurity while the rest are illustrious.

WHEN Aristotle was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering falsehoods? he replied, "Not to be credited when he shall tell the truth."

Yet so it is in defiance of censure and contempt, truth is frequently violated: and scarcely the most vigilant and unremitted circumspection will secure him that mixes with mankind, from being hourly deceived by men of whom it can scarcely be imagined, that they mean any injury to him or profit to themselves: even where the subject of conversation could not have been expected to put the passions in motion, or to have excited either hope or fear, or zeal or malignity, sufficient to induce any man to put his reputation in hazard, however little he might value it, or to overpower the love of truth, however weak might be its influence.

The casuists have very diligently distinguished lies into their several classes, according to their various degrees of malignity; but they have, I think, generally omitted that which is most common, and, perhaps, not least mischiev ous: which, since the moralists have not given it a name, I shall distinguish as the lie of vanity.

To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which every man perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and, perhaps, most of those that are propagated with success. To the lie of commerce, and the lie of malice, the motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or implicitly received; suspicion is always watchful over the practices of interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of mischief, can prompt one man to assert, another is by reasons equally cogent incited to refute. But vanity pleases herself with such slight gratifications, and looks forward to pleasure so remotely consequential, that her practices raise no alarm, and her stratagems are not easily discovered.

whom truth affords no gratifications, is generally inclined to seek them in falsehoods.

The character of a liar is at once so hateful and contemptible, that even of those who have lost their virtue it might be expected that from the violation of truth they should be restrained Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass un by their pride. Almost every other vice that pursued by suspicion, because he that would disgraces human nature, may be kept in counte- watch her motions, can never be at rest; fraud nance by applause and association; the corrupter and malice are bounded in their influence; of virgin innocence sees himself envied by the some opportunity of time and place is necessary men, and at least not detested by the women; to their agency; but scarce any man is abstractthe drunkard may easily unite with beings, de-ed one moment from his vanity; and he, to voted like himself to noisy merriments or silent insensibility, who will celebrate his victories over the novices of intemperance, boast themselves the companions of his prowess, and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom unsuccessful emulation has hurried to the grave; even the robber and the cut-throat have their followers, who admire their address and intrepidity, their stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the gang. The liar, and only the liar, is invariably and universally despised, abandoned, and disowned; he has no domestic consolations which he can oppose to the censure of mankind; he can retire to no fraternity, where his crimes my stand in the place of virtues: but is given up to the hisses of the multitude, without friend and without apologist. It is the peculiar condition of falsehood, to be equally detested by the good and bad: "The devils," says Sir Thomas Brown, "do not tell lies to one another; for truth is necessary to all societies: nor can the society of hell subsist without it."

It is remarked by Sir Kenelm Digby, "That every man has a desire to appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what they have not seen." Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies merit, nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so much as to be counterfeited: yet even this vanity, trifling as it is, produces innumerable narratives, all equally false; but more or less credible in proportion to the skill or confidence of the relater. How many may a man of diffusive conversation count among his acquaintances, whose lives have been signalized by numberless escapes; who never cross the river but in a storm, or take a journey in the country without more adventures than befell the knightserrant of ancient times in pathless forests or enchanted castles! How many must he know, to whom portents and prodigies are of daily occurrence; and for whom nature is hourly working It is natural to expect, that a crime thus general- wonders invisible to every other eye, only to sup y detested, should be generally avoided; at least | ply them with subjects of conversation?

dence of society, weaken the credit of intelligence, and interrupt the security of life; harass the delicate with shame, and perplex the timorous with alarms; might very properly be awakened to a sense of their crimes, by denunciations of a whipping-post or pillory: since many are so insensible of right and wrong, that they have no standard of action but the law; nor feel guilt, but as they dread punishment.

Others there are that amuse themselves with | self with reflecting, that by his abilities and adthe dissemination of falsehood, at greater hazard dress some addition is made to the miseries of life. of detection and disgrace; men marked out by There is, I think, an ancient law of Scotland, some lucky planet for universal confidence and by which leasing-making was capitally punished. friendship, who have been consulted in every I am, indeed, far from desiring to increase in this difficulty, intrusted with every secret, and sum-kingdom the number of executions; yet I canmoned to every transaction; it is the supreme not but think, that they who destroy the confifelicity of these men, to stun all companies with noisy information; to still doubt, and overbear opposition, with certain knowledge or authentic intelligence. A liar of this kind with a strong memory or brisk imagination, is often the oracle of an obscure club, and, till time discovers his impostures, dictates to his hearers with uncontrolled authority; for if a public question be started, he was present at the debate; if a new fashion be mentioned, he was at court the first day of its appearance; if a new performance of literature draws the attention of the public, he has patronized the author, and seen his work in manuscript; if a criminal of eminence be condemned to die, he often predicted his fate, and endeavoured his reformation: and who that lives at a distance from the scene of action, will dare to contradict a man who reports from his own eyes and ears, and to whom all persons and affairs are thus intimately known?

This kind of falsehood is generally successful for a time, because it is practised at first with timidity and caution; but the prosperity of the liar is of short duration; the reception of one story is always an incitement to the forgery of another less probable; and he goes on to triumph over tacit credulity, till pride or reason rise up against him, and his companions will no longer endure to see him wiser than themselves. It is apparent, that the inventors of all these fictions intend some exaltation of themselves, and are led off by the pursuit of honour from their attendance upon truth: their narratives always imply some consequence in favour of their courage, their sagacity, or their activity, their familiarity with the learned, or their reception among the great; they are always bribed by the present pleasure of seeing themselves superior to those that surround them, and receiving the homage of silent attention, and envious admiration.

But vanity is sometimes excited to fiction by less visible gratifications; the present age abounds with a race of liars who are content with the consciousness of falsehood, and whose pride is to deceive others without any gain or glory to themselves. Of this tribe it is the supreme pleasure to remark a lady in the play-house or the park, and to publish, under the character of a man suddenly enamoured, an advertisement in the news of the next day, containing a minute description of her person and her dress. From this artifice, however, no other effect can be expected than perturbations which the writer can never see, and conjectures of which he never can be informed; some mischief, however, he hopes he has done; and to have done mischief is of some importance. He sets his invention to work again, and produces a narrative of a robbery or a murder, with all the circumstances of time and place accurately adjusted. This is a jest of greater effect, and longer duration: if he fixes his scene at a proper distance, he may for several days keep a wife in terror for her husband, or a mother for her son; and please him

No. 53.]

TUESDAY MAY 8, 1753

Quisque suos patimur manes.

Each has his lot, and bears the fate he drew,

SIR,

VIRG.

Fleet, May 6.

IN consequence of my engagements, I address you once more from the habitations of misery.-In this place, from which business and pleasure are equally excluded, and in which our only employment and diversion is to hear the narratives of each other, I might much sooner have gathered materials for a letter, had I not hoped to have been reminded of my promise: but since I find myself placed in the regions of oblivion, where I am no less neglected by you than by the rest of mankind, I resolved no longer to wait for solicitation, but stole early this evening from between gloomy sullenness, and riotous merriment, to give you an account of part of my companions.

One of the most eminent members of our club is Mr. Edward Scamper, a man of whose name the Olympic heroes would not have been ashamed. Ned was born to a small estate, which he determined to improve; and therefore as soon as he became of age, mortgaged part of his land to buy a mare and stallion, and bred horses for the course. He was at first very successful, and gained several of the king's plates, as he is now every day boasting, at the expense of very little more than ten times their value.At last, however, he discovered, that victory brought him more honour than profit: resolving, therefore, to be rich as well as illustrious, he re plenished his pockets by another mortgage, became on a sudden a daring better, and resolving not to trust a jockey with his fortune, rode his horse himself, distanced two of his competitors the first heat, and at last won the race by forcing his horse on a descent to full speed at the hazard of his neck. His estate was thus repaired, and some friends that had no souls advised him to give over; but Ned now knew the way to riches, and therefore without caution increased his expenses. From this hour he talked and dreamed of nothing but a horse-race; and rising soon to the summit of equestrian reputation, he was constantly expected on every course, divided all his time between lords and jockeys, and, as the unexperienced regulated their bets by his example, gained a great deal of money by laying openly on one horse, and secretly on the other. Ned was now so sure of growing

rich, that he involved his estate in a third mort-curity accepted when his friends were in disgage, borrowed money of all his friends, and tress. Elated with these associations, he soon risked his whole fortune upon Bay Lincoln. He learned to neglect his shop; and having drawn mounted with beating heart, started fair, and his money out of the funds, to avoid the neces won the first heat: but in the second, as he was sity of teasing men of honour for trifling debts, pushing against the foremost of his rivals, his he has been forced at last to retire hither, till his girth broke, his shoulder was dislocated, and be- friends can procure him a post at court. fore he was dismissed by the surgeon, two bailiffs fastened upon him, and he saw Newmarket no more. His daily amusement for four years has been to blow the signal for starting, to make imaginary matches, to repeat the pedigree of Bay Lincoln, and to form resolutions against trusting another groom with the choice of his girth.

Another that joins in the same mess is Bob Cornice, whose life has been spent in fitting up a house. About ten years ago, Bob purchased the country habitation of a bankrupt: the mere shell of a building Bob holds no great matter; the inside is the test of elegance. Of this house he was no sooner master, than he summoned The next in seniority is Mr. Timothy Snug, a twenty workmen to his assistance, tore up the man of deep contrivance, and impenetrable se- floors and laid them anew, stripped off the waincrecy. His father died with the reputation of scot, drew the windows from their frames, altermore wealth than he possessed; Tim, therefore, ed the disposition of doors and fire-places, and entered the world with a reputed fortune of ten cast the whole fabric into a new form: his next thousand pounds. Of this he very well knew care was to have his ceilings painted, his panthat eight thousand was imaginary; but being a nels gilt, and his chimney-pieces carved: every man of refined policy, and knowing how much thing was executed by the ablest hands: Bob's honour is annexed to riches, he resolved never to business was to follow the workmen with a midetect his own poverty; but furnished his house croscope, and call upon them to retouch their with elegance, scattered his money with profu- performances, and heighten excellence to perfecsion, encouraged every scheme of costly plea- tion. The reputation of his house now brings sure, spoke of petty losses with negligence, round him a daily confluence of visitants, and and on the day before an execution entered his every one tells him of some elegance which he doors, had proclaimed at a public table his reso-has hitherto overlooked, some convenience not lution to be jolted no longer in a hackney coach. yet procured, or some new mode in ornament or Another of my companions is the magnani- furniture. Bob, who had no wish but to be admous Jack Scatter, the son of a country gentle-mired, nor any guide but the fashion, thought man, who, having no other care than to leave him rich, considered that literature could not be had without expense; masters would not teach for nothing; and when a book was bought and read, it would sell for little. Jack was, therefore, taught to read and write by the butler; and when this acquisition was made, was left to pass his days in the kitchen and the stable, where he heard no crime censured but covetousness and distrust of poor honest servants, and where all the praise was bestowed on good house-keeping, and a free heart. At the death of his father, Jack set himself to retrieve the honour of his family: he abandoned his cellar to the butler, I know not, Sir, whether among this fraternity ordered his groom to provide hay and corn at of sorrow, you will think any much to be pitied; discretion, took his housekeeper's word for the nor indeed do many of them appear to solicit expenses of the kitchen, allowed all his servants compassion, for they generally applaud their own to do their work by deputies, permitted his do- conduct, and despise those whom want of taste mestics to keep his house open to their relations or spirit suffers to grow rich. It were happy if and acquaintance, and in ten years was convey- the prisons of the kingdom were filled only with ed hither, without having purchased by the loss characters like these, men whom prosperity could of his patrimony either honour or pleasure, or not make useful, and whom ruin cannot make obtained any other gratification than that of hav-wise: but there are among us many who raise ing corrupted the neighbouring villagers by luxury and idleness.

every thing beautiful in proportion as it was new, and considered his work as unfinished while any observer could suggest an addition; some alteration was therefore every day made, without any other motive than the charms of novelty. A tra veller at last suggested to him the convenience of a grotto; Bob immediately ordered the mount of his garden to be excavated: and having laid out a large sum in shells and minerals, was busy in regulating the disposition of the colours and lustres, when two gentlemen, who had asked permission to see his gardens, presented him a writ, and led him off to less elegant apartments.

different sensations, many that owe their present misery to the seductions of treachery, the strokes of casualty, or the tenderness of pity; many whose sufferings disgrace society, and whose virtues would adorn it: of these, when familiarity shall have enabled me to recount their stories without horror, you may expect another narra tive from, Sir, your most humble servant,

Dick Serge was a draper in Cornhill, and passed eight years in prosperous diligence, without any care but to keep his books, or any ambition but to be in time an alderman: but then, by some unaccountable revolution in his understanding, he became enamoured of wit and humour, despised the conversation of pedlars and stock-jobbers, and rambled every night to the regions of gayety, in quest of company suited to his taste. The wits at first flocked about him No. for sport, and afterwards for interest; some found their way into his books, and some into his pockets; the man of adventure was equipped from his shop for the pursuit of a fortune; and he had sometimes the honour to have his se

MISARGYRUS.

They condemn what they do not understand. EURIPIDES having presented Socrates with_the writings of Heraclitus, a philosopher famed for

involution and obscurity, inquired afterwards his opinion of their merit. "What I understand," said Socrates, "I find to be excellent; and, therefore, believe that to be of equal value which I cannot understand."

On such occasions, every reader should remember the diffidence of Socrates, and repair by his candour the injuries of time: he should impute the seeming defects of his author to some chasm of intelligence, and suppose that the sense which is now weak was once forcible, and the expression which is now dubious formerly determinate.

The reflection of every man who reads this passage will suggest to him the difference between the practice of Socrates, and that of modern critics; Socrates, who had, by long observa- How much the mutilation of ancient history tion upon himself and others, discovered the has taken away from the beauty of poetical perweakness of the strongest, and the dimness of formances, may be conjectured from the light the most enlightened intellect, was afraid to de- which a lucky commentator sometimes effuses, cide hastily in his own favour, or to conclude that by the recovery of an incident that had been an author had written without meaning, because long forgotten: thus, in the third book of Hohe could not immediately catch his ideas; he race, Juno's denunciations against those that knew that the faults of books are often more should presume to raise again the walls of Troy, justly imputable to the reader, who sometimes could for many ages please only by splendid wants attention, and sometimes penetration; images and swelling language, of which no man whose understanding is often obstructed by pre- discovered the use or propriety, till Le Fevie, by ijudice, and often dissipated by remissness: who showing on what occasion the Ode was written, comes sometimes to a new study, unfurnished changed wonder to rational delight. Many paswith knowledge previously necessary; and finds sages yet undoubtedly remain in the same audifficulties insuperable, for want of ardour sutli-thor, which an exacter knowledge of the incicient to encounter them. dents of his time would clear from objections. Among these I have always numbered the following lines:

Obscurity and clearness are relative terms: to some readers scarce any book is easy, to others not many are difficult: and surely they, whom neither any exuberant praise bestowed by others, nor any eminent conquests over stubborn problems, have entitled to exalt themselves above the common orders of mankind, might condescend to imitate the candour of Socrates; and where they find incontestable proofs of superior genius, be content to think that there is justness in the connexion which they cannot trace, and cogency in the reasoning which they cannot comprehend.

Aurum per medios ire satellites,
Et perrumpere amat sara, potentius
Ictu fulmineo. Concidit Auguris
Argivi domus ob lucrum
Demersa excidio. Diffidit urbium
Portas vir Macedo, et subruit amalos
Reges muneribus. Munera navium
Savos illaqueant duces.

Stronger than thunder's winged force,
All-powerful gold can spread its course,
Through watchful guards its passage make,
And loves through solid walls to break:
From gold the overwhelming woes
That crush'd the Grecian augur rose.
Philip with gold through cities broke,
And rival monarchs felt his yoke;
Captains of ships to gold are slaves,
Though fierce as their own winds and waves.

FRANCIS

This diffidence is never more reasonable than in the perusal of the authors of antiquity; of those whose works have been the delight of ages, and transmitted as the great inheritance of mankind from one generation to another: surely, no man can, without the utmost arrogance, imagine that he brings any superiority of understanding to the perusal of these books which have been The close of this passage, by which every reapreserved in the devastation of cities, and snatch-der is now disappointed and offended, was proed up from the wreck of nations; which those bably the delight of the Roman Court: it cannot who fled before barbarians have been careful to be imagined, that Horace, after having given to carry off in the hurry of migration, and of which gold the force of thunder, and told of its power to barbarians have repented the destruction. If in storm cities and to conquer kings, would have books thus made venerable by the uniform attes- concluded his account of its efficacy with its intation of successive ages, any passages shall ap-fluence over naval commanders, had he not alpear unworthy of that praise which they have formerly received, let us not immediately determine, that they owed their reputation to dulness or bigotry; but suspect at least that our ancestors had some reasons for their opinions, and that our ignorance of those reasons makes us differ from them.

luded to some fact then current in the mouths of men, and therefore more interesting for a time than the conquests of Philip. Of the like kind may be reckoned another stanza in the same book:

-Jussa coram non sine conscio
Surgit marito, seu vocat institor
Seu navis Hispanæ magister

Dedecorum pretiosus emptor

The conscious husband bids her rise,
When some rich factor courts her charms,
Who calls the wanton to his arms,
And, prodigal of wealth and fame,
Profusely buys the costly shame.

It often happens that an author's reputation is endangered in succeeding times, by that which raised the loudest applause among his contemporaries: nothing is read with greater pleasure than allusions to recent facts, reigning opinions, or present controversies; but when facts are forgotten, and controversies extinguished, these favourite touches lose all their graces; and the author in his descent to posterity must be left to the He has little knowledge of Horace who imagines mercy of chance, without any power of ascer- that the factor, or the Spanish merchant, are mentaining the memory of those things, to which he tioned by chance: there was undoubtedly some owed his luckiest thoughts and his kindest re-popular story of an intrigue, which those names ception. recalled to the memory of his reader.

FRANCIS