University of Virginia Library

William Caxton was the first printer in England; he established his press at Westminster, and produced a work entitled, The Lives of the Saints, which may very justly be styled the heavenly Maundeville, being replete with so many marvellous histories. The first book printed by Caxton was The Game of Chess, and the second, The Dictes and sayinges of Philosophers, by Earl Rivers, dated 1477.

The new Heloise of J. J. Rousseau is famed for the fallacious principles with which it abounds, and the fascination of the language, rendering sophistry plausible at the expense of our reason.

A very celebrated French work, entitled in English, Dangerous Connexions, which is calculated to mislead the senses, and implant in the mind the most erroneous sentiments and opinions.

Small chambers appropriated for retirement, and fitted up in a luxurious style, which is in every respect calculated to inflame the desires of a voluptuary.

Many poetic effusions of this nature have, of late, issued from the press, whose rapid sale has but too evidently indicated the taste of the present times. Of some productions of this nature, concerning which we may exclaim with Horace,

it hath been confidently asserted, that ladies of ton, not satisfied with a single copy, have purchased separate impressions for the carriage, the boudoir, and the dressing room, while a fourth has not unfrequently been deposited under the pillow at night, to serve as a gentle lullaby.

Some famous, or rather infamous, works of this nature, have met the public eye, to the disgrace of the writers, whose labours are well calculated to adorn an index expurgatorius; but this is not all, for our literary gentlemen (as they term themselves) not contented with their own dereliction, must needs ransack the productions of Parisian irreligion, false philosophy, and immorality, in order to give them publicity in this country, by means of translation, witness the Delphine of Mad. Stael, together with an hundred et cæteras. And as if the mania was never to end; nothing had such a run for a period, as the trash that was advertised as coming piping-hot from the German school; in short, we have been inundated with Gallic philosophy, morality, &c. and the German extravaganza, both literary and dramatic.

It would be needless to dilate upon this topic, as the fanatics of a neighbouring country, not to lay any stress upon those gentlemen who have figured on this side of the water, have given incontrovertible testimony of the fallacy of their opinions, by the overthrow of those systems, or castles in the air, with which they amused themselves, to the destruction of all social order, and the consequent butchery of thousands of their fellow citizens.

As the above word is made use of in the translation of Alexander Barclay, from whose publication the poet took his idea of the present work; it appears evident that he did not think fit to alter the same, as throughout all his sections no other word is applied to denote that he sends his advice to the several classes of fools, concerning whom he treats in this book.

As these words are usually adverted to in speaking of any individual pre-eminent in wisdom or excellence, the poet has, it is conjectured, conceived himself licensed in using them, while treating of those who are equally prominent in folly.

It is hoped that the poetic licence of the bard, in having lengthened the syllable fe as above will be forgiven, as the word should certainly be pronounced thus, stūltifĕra. Even the great and classic Mr. Pope has not scrupled to take a liberty more unclassical in abbreviating the pronunciation of the English word satellites, which, if properly read, would render his line short and inharmonious; but if regarded as Latin, even then the poet is wrong, as it should be, according to grammatical rules, satellita.

This, however, is not the only instance, as similar liberties have been taken by most of our poetical writers, and on that plea the annotator grounds his hope, that the public will excuse the license taken by the present bard.

It is absolutely impossible to walk the streets of London, without witnessing the truth of this remark; as the ladies, not contented with parading all but naked, must needs heighten the scene, by grasping tightly round them the small portion of drapery they have, whereby the whole contour from the waist downwards, is just as perceptible, as if they had no covering at all.

As a trifling effort of Boreas might elevate, or the rude push of a passenger cause a rent in the thin petticoat or chemise, whereby a total exposure would be inevitable, the expedient of wearing drawers of muslin has been resorted to, which, in some instances, are converted by Dashers into trowsers, with the addition of a deep fringe of lace, which is carefully displayed by the shortness of the petticoat dangling about the ancles. So much for decency!

This article of dress, not only obviates any pressure upon the bosom, but, if necessity requires it, substitutes, by cotton wadding, any deficiency. With respect to the stomach, and Butler's renowned seat of honour, the wadding is also continued to that part, with the addition of whalebone, so as to compress the devant, and give elasticity and rotundity to the derriere, by which means, should the rude touch of an inebriated carman chance to come in contact with honour's throne, the grasp would not be felt, and that much redoubted seat of majesty, would consequently escape insult.

This convenient appendage to the stomach, levelled at once all distinctions with single and married ladies, excepting, that what was artificial in the mother, was frequently natural in the daughter.

This appellation was derived from the Parisian lady who gave the ton to a vast profusion of cork-screw curls, ranged upon the forehead like rows of twisted wires, similar to what are placed near the cranks of bells to give them elasticity. In order to produce the thin glossy appearance which constitutes the beauty of these tresses, (not unlike the love locks in the time of Charles the First) it is necessary, after curling with the irons, to divide and subdivide each ringlet, which is then passed through the fingers of the dressing woman, who has previously wetted them with some sweet scented oil.

As to nature, she has literally no more to do with modern taste in this particular, than a magpie has occasion for a Greek lexicon. How, in the name of common sense, should the simple goddess define what is so suitable to our complexions as we ourselves can? besides, what would become of Mr. Collick the hair-merchant, and the numerous gentlemen of Mr. Vicary's calling—No lady of ton can possibly think of less than ten wigs in constant wear, in short, there should be one suited to every look and to every passion.

The diversity of coloured silk stockings, which have graced the legs of our Belles, has conduced, it is imagined, to heighten their predeliction for making those limbs so very public, by a uniform method now adopted of twitching up the gown on one side as high as the garter,

Some fashionables, however, have not confined these harlequinade hose to their own legs, but have equipped even their lacqueys in variegated stockings. We do not, however, mean by this, any comparison whatsoever with the bus jaunâtre of our blue-coat boys, the former being the insignias of puppyism and folly, whereas the latter, are the united badges of charity, wisdom, and science.

Every reader must allow the justice of these remarks of the poet, for even the most casual observer cannot saunter down Bond Street in the fashionable season, without witnessing living objects of this cast, whose grey hairs, the insignias of age, and the ensurers of respect, are shaven off; while in their place is substituted a curly boyish wig, accompanied with the extravagant livery of the latest fashion, and gouty feet wedged into thin dress pumps, which, notwithstanding their natty appearance, convince the wearer at every step, by the acuteness of the twinge endured, that the guise of youth does not become him. Yet, all in vain, he bids defiance to advice, nor heeds the poet who exclaims,

It is most assuredly a matter of serious regret, that the vain folly of old persons is far more detrimental to the rising generation than to themselves. With what degree of confidence, let me ask, can the preceptor and instructor produce as an example, such a father to the pupil he is tutoring? If his lessons are correct, they must inevitably hold up the parent in a contemptable and debased point of view; and if, on the other hand, he vin dicates the follies of the father, he extends the fostering hand to vice, and thus willingly contaminates the mind which he was imperiously called upon to rear in the paths of science, virtue, and honour.

There might be many instances adduced of this propensity still remaining in full force with persons, though not even a stump of the strongest grinder is left in their jaws. Such a deficiency, however, is easily replaced by rows of ivory, which speedily imbibe a deep yellow tinge, a certain index of the raging and unquenchable fire that burns within.

The picture here displayed by the poet, cannot be more strikingly exemplified than in the first plate of the Harlot's Progress, from the pencil of that inimitable satirist, Hogarth, which displays the arrival of a beautiful country girl in the metropolis, who is supposed to have that moment alighted from the waggon, being accosted by an artful procuress; while in the back ground appears the infamous Coloncl C---rt---s, her employer, whose age and attitude may serve as a resemblance of our poet's hoary headed debauchee.

Nothing affords matter for more melancholy reflection, than to witness this dotage in men who, during the vigour of manhood, ennobled themselves; a striking instance of which is recorded in the person of the renowned Edward III. who, at the age of 77, was the slave of one Alice Pearce, whom he denominated the “Lady of beauty”, and in whose honour tiltings and tournaments were held in Smithfield, at which the court attended. But nothing can more pointedly display the folly of such conduct than the close of that great man's life, who was attended on his death-bed by this fascinating dame, who, finding the monarch's end fast approaching, threw aside all those fascinations which she had been in the habit of adopting to subjugate him, and, blind to every principle but that of interest, even at the trying hour of dissolution, she busied herself in tearing the jewels from off his fingers, and possessing every thing valuable that presented itself to her view.

The great and politic Elizabeth, when in her 76th year, doted on the memory of the Earl of Essex, for whom a solemn dance was given, at which Mrs. Tiffin, one of her ladies, was habited in character, and presented herself to the queen, who, pretending to be surprised at her appearance, demanded, “Pray, who are you?” “Affection”, answered Mrs. Tiffin.

“Affection's false”, replied the queen. Upon which the lady wooed her Majesty to dance, which, we are informed, she did most solemnly, in despite of age and the falsehood of affection.

Indeed there are too many of this description, whose painted cheeks, perfumed linen, blackened eyebrows, and stay-laced shapes, together with affected utterance, disgrace the title of manhood.

Now tell me, ye petit maitres, do ye know your likenesses?

Not only in conversation do these hermaphrodites prove that ex nihilo nihil fit, they have even sometimes the effrontery to set themselves up for men of literature, when they never fail to verify the line of Horace.

I should advise a revision of the code of laws, instituted for the suppression of public nuisances; among the foremost of which ought certainly to be included these pests of society, whom I would render indictable by men of common sense, subjecting them to the public lash of the ridicule they so richly deserve.

There is nothing very wonderful in this, when we ask the simple question, and hear its solution, Quare facit opium dormire? Quia in eo est virtus dormitiva.

As a convincing proof that the most trivial circumstances will agitate these things—these men of straw, the following stanzas are founded on absolute fact, the despairing youth being one of our refined fashionable literati.

The owl-like consequence transferred by a copious wig to the physiognomy of the wearer is never more strikingly exemplified than in Westminster Hall, where the tiers of benches are certainly crowded with wigs on blocks; for out of the number of their wearers, half a dozen only render themselves conspicuous: the rest being merely automatons: and of them it may indeed, with truth be said, The wisdom's in the wig, the wig—the wisdom's in the wig. The following little anecdote being very applicable to our young wearers of the bar gown, is here introduced by way of a friendly hint to those flippant youths, whose bags are as void of briefs as their heads of brains.

A young, pert, prating lawyer one day boasted to the facetious counsellor Costello, that he had received five and twenty guineas, for speaking in a certain case, “And I”, said Mr. Costello, “received double that sum for holding my tongue in the same cause”.—But to recur to the subject of our note. In delineating the sapience displayed by the human physiognomy, when surrounded by this copious appendage of hair, our Hogarth has proved himself no less excellent, than on every other occasion, wherein he has given scope to his extraordinary talents: for let my reader but refer to that artist's plate concerning wigs, and their wearers; and however unacquainted with the rules of Lavater, he, nevertheless, cannot fail to discover at the first glance stupidity, ignorance, and gluttony, embosomed in the ample wig.

This plan of browbeating, or to speak more properly, frightening a witness out of his wits, which is merely substituting one letter for another, making him witless instead of witness, is now reduced to a regular system; consequently the grand art of counsel at present is not only to force an upright man to commit perjury by this species of tongue-baiting, but also cause a verdict to be given against the party who has justice on his side.

Notwithstanding this apparent ill nature of the poet, there are, nevertheless, sufficient public examples to bear him out in his assertions; but had he been possessed of the powers of the famous devil on two sticks, which would have enabled him to learn such instances as were hidden from publicity, Merciful Heaven! what would he not then have had to say! for Quæ fuerant vitia mores sunt: and the contagion is now become general: for the prim citizen's wife knows the practical meaning of the word intrigue equally as well as the west end of the town lady of title; and we may therefore very justly say,

But all this is very excusable, when put in competition with the loves of ancient heroines; witness Pasiphæ, who received the tender embraces of a bull, and Semiramis those of horses, &c. &c.

Never surely was a more facetious adventure than that alluded to in the above line; and, as the lady did not exactly understand her own mind, nor the youth precisely know how to win her for a time, we will, by way of advice for young gentlemen in future, note down a prescription which never yet was found to fail in its effects.

It is surely a very hard case that a poor man should be compelled to wear his antlers, without being permitted to butt with them; leaving him to exclaim with Lucio, in Measure for Measure, “Married to a punk is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging.” But such is however the case, since none who cannot well pay for their sport, are entitled to redress from the gentlemen of the Commons; consequently in this particular the great and the rich have the best of it; and it is doubtless, on this account, they make so light of publicity in matters of love; as they delicately term such gross dereliction from conjugal duties.

Much has been, and is said, of the Age of Reason— the Temple of Reason, and the Goddess of Reason, yet it is not a little to be wondered at, that those very beings who so constantly make these their themes are in themselves, the most unreasonable, for while maintaining strenuously such opinions, they nevertheless allow, that if the world was peopled throughout with men who had laid down such principles as the basis of their conduct through life, every human institution would be at an end, and a general scene of devastation characterise the face of nature; but in order to validate this position beyond a doubt, the train of events which disgraced revolutionary France, bid defiance to all contradiction, proving, that those children of Reason were everything but rational, being even debased by enormity that enhorrors human nature. Such then being the case, farewell to Reason, which is not sanctioned by religion, for, Ludere cum sacris never yet was found to constitute a part of the creed of any wise and rational being; but, on the contrary, has been tolerated only by madmen, knaves, and fools.

Repasts of this nature have long been proverbial; nor does the appearance of the leading men east of Temple Bar, bely the general opinion of their capability and prowess at the knife and fork exercise: in vain doth moderation cry out, Lucisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti; tempus abire tibi est; deaf to all such warnings, they continue the attack; and instances have been known, that, on the arrival of an unexpected dish, the already gorged alderman, thrown into an ecstacy at the luscious view, has waddled from the table, and having, by the assistance of potent libations of salt and water, eased in some degree the overburdened stomach, he has forthwith returned to charge the object of his gluttony, and satiated his vengeance by a glorious indigestion. Plures crapula quam gladius. O despicable glutton, think but on the tortures which thou inflictest on the poor skate, ere it is crimped, to satiate thine appetite, and blush to own thyself a human being.

At all periods has the inordinate gratification of this sense been considered by its votaries. The famed Anacreon, greedily indulging his appetite, was choked with a grape stone. Heliogabalus delighted in feasting on the tongues of nightingales and the brains of peacocks; while the followers of Epicurus ransacked the culinary art, in order to invent dishes that were calculated to pamper this bestial propensity. Nay, and among the tribe of guttling fools of more modern date may rank Worlidge the famous engraver of gems, who was so fond of good living as to expend one guinea on a pint of peas, although he had not at the time a shoe to his foot, and was literally repairing to a disciple of Crispin's, in order to procure a pair, when in Covent Garden Market, this fascinating object presented itself to his greedy eyes.

Hogarth's celebrated print of the election feast, affords an inimitable picture of excess in gluttony, displayed in the representation of one of the party at the electioneering feast, who being overgorged, is just expiring of a fit of apoplexy, while at the end of the fork, still grasped in his hand, appears an oyster, which had been intended for the next mouthful. But although many instances in real life have been related of the mordinate love of guttling which has characterized the natives of this island, it is nevertheless conceived, that the reader must allow, from the following statement, that the natives of other countries may out-eat us. During the last war, a Prussian soldier at Liverpool literally devoured at one meal—a live cat— two pounds of bullock's liver, and two pounds of candles —with respect to rats and mice, they were regarded as such choice dainties in his estimation, that he would voraciously dispatch all that came in his way, and it is alsolutely a fact, that this ravenous propensity created such an acute feeling, that the drummer and fifer boys were afraid of appearing before this cormorant, lest he should be led to take a fancy to an arm or a shoulder, and suddenly place his grinders in contact with human flesh.

In speaking of drunkenness, Arcanum demens detegit ebrietas, it is not only the foe to decency and reason, but when indulged in to excess, absolutely incapacitates the sot from the smallest corporeal effort. As a proof of this, a fact is recorded of a certain military commander, who indulged in copious libations at the mess table, from which all the company had retired, excepting himself and one bottle companion, with whom he chose to complete the debauch over a large bowl of punch. This son of Mars having drank for a time until he had rendered his companion senseless, and desirous of proving himself a superior votary to the orgies of Bacchus, grasped the vessel, in order to empty its contents, when finding himself incapable of raising it to his lips, from the effects of inebriety, he bent his mouth to the edge of the bowl, which he tilted, resting his arms on the table, and while in this position, being unsteady from the effect of liquor, he slipped forward, when his face became immerged in the intoxicating draught, and in that situation he continued immovable, and was shortly suffocated. But not to speak of such deadly effects, the mere inebriety which constitutes the boast of mankind may always be said to verify on the ensuing morning these lines of Horace.

And speaking of the capability of the English in drinking, Shakspeare thus expresseth himself.

“I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting; your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander, are nothing to your English. Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking? Why he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not, to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled.”

The following lines, so applicable to the point in question, are here introduced, in order to finish the picture of the poet.

However we may laugh, on viewing the effusions of the painter, we cannot but inwardly moralize on contemplating that plate in the series of the Rake's progress, which portrays the youthful spendthrift in the act of uniting himself with one old enough to be his grandmother—Let any individual but observe therein the liquorish eye of squinting age, blinking towards the visage of cool and passionless youth, and nothing more need be alleged on the subject of improper marriages.

A very melancholy fact is related by a French author, which, although not exactly analogous to the subject of this section, is nevertheless calculated to prove the misery of ill assorted unions. The parents of a very beautiful young lady, allured by the fascinations of superior wealth, bestowed the hand of their dejected Mariana on a very rich, but aged advocate; the unfortunate sufferer, who had solely yielded her acquiescence on the score of duty, brooded but for a day on the wretchedness of her situation; for on the morn which succeeded the nuptials, the melancholy bride, breaking an egg, mingled with the same a deadly poison unperceived; when leisurely eating the contents, she exclaimed—“My parents commanded the union, and by my obedience I have given them proofs of my devotion to their will—more they cannot require of me, for in obeying, I die for them!”

The old story of the ins and outs is extremely applicable to the burden of this section: the object of the former being places, places, pensions, pensions; while the cry of the latter is peculation, and violation of the rights of the subject; yet let the ins be out and the outs be in, the cry is then equally reversed: for, after all, gold is the primum mobile, in the attainment of which, imposition and the abuse of the liberties of the people is a trifle, unworthy the consideration of any statesman; with whom, independence is a bugbear, and honour, the scarecrow of fools.

Yes; even the solemn dignitaries of the law are not proof against this golden talisman; for the judge would sit mum chance, nor give animation to his wig, did not the fees of office move the court to hear the complaints of the oppressed.

Gentle reader, if it ever has been thy unfortunate lot to be a dangler upon these consequential nuisances, thou must have discovered that they are ten times more insufferable than their superiors: a circumstance which is mortifying in a twofold degree: as they do not only lack the consequence of office, but also the refinements of education, and the suaviter in modo, which arises from an intercourse with polished society.

These petty parish kings have a peculiar itch for plunder, which they gratify in the following manner: suppose, for instance, that a stonemason be the warden, you will never fail to see a scaffolding around the steeple, for then the church needs some essential repairs; if it be a plumber who fills the important office, the tiles or slating are deemed improper guardians of the edifice, and lead supplies their place; and should a carpenter rule the roast, he proves himself a chip of the old block, by the erection of new pews throughout the house of prayer.

Nothing is so essential, on entering a prison, as the garnish of Mackheath: from the jailor to his clerks, from the clerks to the turnkeys, the cry is, Garnish, captain, garnish! in short, without it misfortune and virtuous poverty may perish on the pitiless stones; while swindlers and depredators, who have subjected families so ruin, command respect, and enjoy every luxury.

There is no amusement in this country which has been productive of such ill effects as masquerades, where all distinction of persons is at an end: and where the coarse ribaldry, not to say obscenity, of the illiterate, the vulgar, and the abandoned, is incessantly heard, calling forth the blush from delicacy and feeling. It is at this scene of disgusting folly, that the insidious seducer has so frequently put into practice his infamous purposes against unsuspecting innocence, or destroyed the peace of an affectionate husband, by effecting his guilty purposes with the mother of a family; and it is during the riot and confusion attendant on this species of amusement, as it is termed, that the fortune hunter has carried off in triumph the giddy school girl who little dreamt that her money was his sole object; and that she was soon to end the wished-for career of matrimony with a broken heart. In short, masquerades in England are of so despicable a cast, that no woman who is desirous of being regarded as modest, should frequent a scene that can only disgust the eye and offend the ear.

Inebriety is not merely observable in the male part of creation, but even females too shamelessly indulge at masquerades in this abominable vice: for the writer has to notice with pain, that instances have frequently occurred within his knowledge of women, who, in that degrading state, have been guilty of the most bestial conduct; and has literally observed that two thirds of the females present, whether pure or impure, have, by their conduct, sufficiently indicated the deranged state of their intellects; and on these accounts it has been very justly remarked by foreigners, that masquerades in England “Begin stupidly, proceed riotously, and terminate drunkenly”. In France, Italy, &c. this amusement is managed otherwise: no inebriety disgraces either sex; and instead of men placing dependence on dress alone for the support of a character, which is uniformly the case in this country, you never find a foreigner who is not in a great measure calculated to sustain, with wit and humour, the part which he has undertaken to personate.

Gambling is one of the most diabolical fascinations that can take possession of the human mind; and it is on this account that Erasmus, in his Praise of Folly, makes his heroine disclaim all connexion with so destructive a pastime. The gamester has no respect for any of those ties which link the generality of mankind together; and he will as calmly pocket the last guinea of an old friend, as that of the most perfect stranger. An instance of this kind occurred at a subscription house not far from St. James's, where a Right Honourable, after winning the fortune of his friend, literally played for his house and furniture, together with the carriage and horses, then standing at the door; which fortune also placed in his power, when he very liberally permitted the loser to continue one week in his mansion, and return home from the gambling house in the carriage he had lost; but, it must be remembered, for the last time.

The instability of fortune is not the only circumstance to be dreaded at the gambling table, where every species of fraud is practised by many of its votaries, whose premeditated dishonesty bids defiance to good fortune as well as skill. It would however be the height of injustice to accuse only the great as being prone to shake the elbow; this fascination pervades alike every rank of society; and even boors at a country wake or fair, must have their E O table, where, instead of thousands, pennies are staked and played for with equal avidity; which brings to recollection the old French proverb: “Le jeu est le fils d'avarice et le pere du desespoir.”

The turf is, of all species of gambling, that which capacitates its votaries the most to pursue unjustifiable means for the attainment of gold; so many instances of which have been recorded, that it would be needless to descant further upon the topic. I should, however, be guilty of a most flagrant error, were I not to remark that, when a gentleman degrades himself by turning jockey, I conceive that he is of a bastard breed; and in despite of his estate and rank, merely descends to that natural standard, from which a variety of circumstances had raised him, only to render his real insignificance and folly the more eminently conspicuous.

These are your city gamesters, who equally have recourse to fraudulent methods in order to amass wealth; for who but remembers the expedients resorted to during the last war, when even placards were stuck up at the Mansion House! so completely was the hook swallowed by the Stock Exchange gudgeons! In short, gambling is at best but an avaricious propensity, A gli avari sempre osce una goccia di sangue avanti che diano un quatrino per amor di Dio; and as it affixes no bounds to its desires, it is equally unrestrained by any principle of honour or of justice: therefore, when a man stakes his wealth, jacta est alea, and he must abide the hazard of the adventurous enterprize, if not seconded by chicane and villany, which is generally resorted to by such as have been subjected to bad luck, and conceive it a just retort for the deprivations thus experienced at the shrine of fortune.

Avarice being the incentive to gaming, a gambler necessarily carries with him, not only his own bane but that of others; for we may say with Juvenal:

is never deterred from the gratification of his insatiable pursuit, either by moral or religious obligations; consequently it not only warps the mental, but imperceptibly destroys the animal being; for he who lives a life of incessant anxiety, exists for the purpose alone which excites it, be it good or evil; therefore shun, as one of the most deadly poisons, this improper thirst for riches; and although allured by the good luck of others, always remember that there is a loser as well as a winner, and that the odds are against you: so may you exclaim with Virgil:

There is no rule without an exception; an instance of which will be found in the following anecdote, redounding highly to the credit of the testator; who thereby evinced a just sentiment of love for decency, and contempt for the prevalent follies of the age.

A worthy clergyman, in Yorkshire, lately deceased, bequeathed in his will a considerable property to his only daughter, on the subsequent conditions: First, That she did not enter into the state of matrimony without the consent of his two executors, or their representatives. Secondly, That she dressed with greater decency than she had hitherto been accustomed to do. The testator's words were:

“But as my daughter Ann — hath not attended to my admonitions, respecting the filthy and lewd custom of dressing with naked elbows, my will is, that in case she persists in so gross a violation of female decency, the whole of the property devised by me as aforesaid, and intended as a provision for her future life, shall go to the eldest son of my sister Caroline — and his heirs lawfully begotten. To those who may say this restriction is severe, I answer, that an indecent display of personal habiliments in women, is a certain indication of intellectual depravity.”

As a specimen of that indefatigable zeal which should characterize the clerical robe, the following extract from the Harleian MSS. No. 6824, fol. 190, is offered, by way of lesson, to all idle fools of this class.

Saturday, June 24, 1724, I was at the funeral of the Rev. Mr. Foard, curate of Marybone. The Rev. Mr. Thos. Riddle, who was curate of St. Giles in the Fields, and since lecturer, gave the following account, that on one certain Sunday he [Mr. Riddle] performed the following duties;

In the morning, married six couple; then read the whole prayers, and preached; after that churched six women.

In the afternoon, read prayers and preached; christened 32 children; six at home, the rest at the font; buried 13 corpses, and read the distinct service over each of them separately, and this done by nine at night.

It was then mentioned by another clergyman, that he had a paper given him to pray for the accomplishment of a young woman's desires.

This trite adage cannot be better applied than in speaking of the clergy, who at all periods, and in all countries, have proved themselves deficient in establishing their precepts by example. From hence has originated all those divisions in religious opinions, which are no where so prevalent as in England, where sectaries may be called the whippers-in of faith: nor can we close this note without a quotation from Butler, who, treating on this head, exclaims,

For a very biting and just satire on every class of ecclesiastical fools connected with the Catholic church, the reader may refer to Erasmus on Folly, who, in the same work, is not merely free in the delivery of his sterling opinions respecting many dogmas of that religion, but even proceeds to such lengths, that, considering the era in which he flourished, it is a little astonishing that the hatred of the clergy, which was of course manifested towards him, should not have led them to pursue the most effectual method of silencing so potent an adversary.

The pride of priestcraft hath ever been proverbial; in contradiction to that irresistible humility, which characterized the proceedings of the Divine Author of Christianity; and the Ego et rex meus of Wolsey is applicable to every wearer of little buckles, cannon curls, with the skimming dish hat, and dapper rose, which constitutes its prim ornament.

Let but the lawn sleeves appear in vista, and who ever heard a churchman exclaim nolo episcopari? On the contrary, it is then we view the priest in his real colours: no sycophancy is too degrading, no flattery, though at the expense of truth, is too fulsome: but when the object of his ambition is attained, his low-born pride looks with contempt on all, from the pinnacle, to whose summit he hath climbed, and rules with the rod of tyranny the miserable dependents on his haughty caprice. A truly noble spirit never plays the tyrant: it is only the base-born churl, like Thomas à Becket, that would outfrown the brow of majesty; and towering priests alone aspire to scourge the back of sovereignty. In addition to the arrogance of papal dignity, which formerly compelled sovereigns to kiss a dirty old velvet slipper; and even went so far as to make the backs of emperors mere footstools, in order to help these vicegerents on their palfrey's backs, it should not be forgotten that we are indebted to a monk for the invention of gunpowder; while Galau, bishop of Munster, was the first who found out that destructive engine of war, a bomb.

Buon prelato buon 'esempio.

It is impossible to pass over this section of the Poet, without expressing a sentiment of commiseration for the feelings of the nobleman above mentioned, when we call to mind the emotion of horror that must have pervaded his breast, on witnessing the conduct of his son at table, who after all the refined instructions which he had received, was so absolutely destitute of delicacy, as to lick up the juice of a currant tart from his plate, in the presence of his Lordship and a large party; on which occasion, his mortified parent ordered the valet into the chamber, in order to shave his son, whose physiognomy looked as if it had been lathered with pink instead of white suds.—Carving with your own knife and fork; helping to sauce with your own spoon, licking your fingers, and expressing by the greedy look of the eyes, the ravenous propensity of the stomach, may be ranked among those actions which disgrace the table, and it has even come within the knowledge of the writer, to observe a person at his own house lengthen out the grace before meat, in order to fix upon the particular part of the viand most acceptable to his palate, which he has instantly notified to the company on concluding his benediction in order to prevent any other person present from bearing off the darling prize.

The following lines from Gay's fable of the Miser and Plutus are well calculated to depict the baneful effects of gold.

It is the extraordinary feature of avarice, to toil incessantly for the attainment of that, which, when procured, never affords it the smallest gratification, for we may say with Horace;

and in like manner is avarice incessantly punished for the ills which it inflicts on others, for “In nullum avarus bonus est, in se pessimus.” In Dodsley's collection is a beautiful Fable of the Sparrow and the Diamond, well calculated to display the extent of this vice; and the moral of which is admirably adapted to the subject of the present Section.

Abbraccia tal volta la fortuna coloro, che vuol poi affegare.

That being who suffers his mind to remain inert, willingly unbars the portal for the admission of every degrading vice, which imperceptibly usurps emporium over the reason, and thus subjects man to the most degrading state of vassalage: like a lulling opiate it steals over the senses, and while it seems to sooth, carries with it the seeds of destruction. Therefore was it most emphatically said by the satirist:

Levati per tempo e vedrai, travaglia et haverai.

Ross the player, was a striking instance of the powerful fascinations of sloth; for although the most flattering offers were made him by different managers, at various periods, he was so far the slave of idleness, as rather to remain in obscurity at some low public house, while a shilling was left, than embrace the proffered good which presented itself; and it is recorded of him, that he would frequently order a chaise in the morning, which he would suffer to remain in expectation of his coming, until the lapse of time made him postpone his departure until after dinner, and so on to tea, then to supper, when the carriage would be reordered for the ensuing day; which only proved the rehearsal of the former. Sloth may very justly be termed the enemy of virtue, and the foe to science, and it is an old saying, that he who does nothing, is most likely hatching mischief; on which account we will conclude with Seneca's words:

Flatterers are the Will o'the wisps of fools, who mean nothing, yet lead them into the mire; and so prevalent is now become this bifronted vice, that

The well known Jemmy B---l, the Biographer of the famous Dr. Johnson, who might well be termed his toad eater or flatterer, used to narrate the following anecdote of the Lexicographer.

Upon the publication of one of the Doctor's literary performances, Jemmy B---l, on the first of the ensuing month, repaired, according to custom, to the lodgings of his idol with the several Magazines of the day, in order to read the strictures which were given on his performance. After perusing two or three criticisms, which were not of the most civil kind, the petulance of the Doctor got the better of his good sense, and he exclaimed peevishly,—“Enough, enough, sir, now you have taken infinite pains to bring an account of what is thought of me individually; give me leave to ask what you imagine the world says of you and me conjointly.” “Upon my word Dr. I cannot pretend to say,” answered Jemmy. “Why then I'll tell you,” continued the Dr. “They say that I am a mad dog, sir, and that you are the tin cannister tied to my tail.”

In the publication of the Dr's. Tour to the Hebrides, written by the same gentleman, there is an account of the inhabitants of villages flocking out to see the great literary phenomenon, which is alleged as a proof of the veneration in which the Dr. was held by all ranks of society. In a copy of that Tour, which once fell into the hands of the annotator, some sarcastic reader had annexed, in the margin, the following couplet, by no means inapplicable to the parties:

Nothing can possibly be so degrading to the mind of feeling, as the incessant duphcity which characterizes the chit-chat of fashionable societies; for it is not merely sufficient to know, that the falsehood can be productive of no harm to others, (even should such be the case), for he who does not scruple to debase himself, will not long refrain from injuring others.

It is most provokingly fulsome, to hear women, only because they are such, receive the adulation of a coxcomb, although the conviction of his palpable flattery stares her in the face. But, if the female who tolerates his prattle, were other than his companion in folly, she would be led to resent rather than feel gratified at the falsehood, for Pope has truly said,

These are the species of deceivers, of whom it may be said with truth, “Pessimum genus inimicorum laudantes;” for they not only promise without the least intention of performing, but by fallaciously flattering the hopes of the petitioner, make him neglect pursuits which would enable him to live with credit, and not reduce him to the state of a slave and pander, while loss of precious time too frequently brings on beggary, and the loathsome confines of a gaol.

How often does the sanctified flatterer practise on the minds of bigots, and at the very moment when his panegyrics are passed on holy writ, his thoughts are perhaps down in the kitchen, where from the savory effluvia which catches his nose, he learns that a goose will that day be his fare. These are a class of glossers who add profaneness to hypocrisy, using the sacred name of Omnipotence to pamper their appetites and fill their purses.

Diffidence is the characteristic feature of wisdom, which never conceives that it hath attained to the summit of excellence, while there yet remains any thing to be acquired. Whereas, “a little wisdom is a dangerous thing,” and when possessed by shallow wits, is very frequently conducive to evil effects, involving in its disgrace, all such as placed reliance on its efficacy. Speaking of those self-sufficient fools, we may apply the words of Solomon.

“There is a generation; O! how lofty are their eyes, and their eyelids are lifted up!”

Poets have ever been deemed the slaves of vanity; nor should we omit Musicians and Players, who may well boast in this respect, the palm of folly. Among the latter class, none was perhaps ever more famed, than the great Garrick, who would even debase himself so far as to feel gratified at the panegyrics of his own barber. That poets, however, should have a share of vanity is not so surprising, when we consider that they are never governed by reason, which is the first step towards wisdom. In fine, we will conclude this head, by stating of a vain man, that “He is wiser in his own conceit, than seven men who can render a reason.”

Usury walks arm in arm with avarice; for, although it does not hoard its pelf from the public, it never dispenses it but with the certainty of restitution with swinging interest; for the cry is, gold begets gold: and, although the adage may be verified by all such as have it at command, and will lend it out at usury, they, nevertheless, will find in the sequel, that satisfaction doth not attend its increase; for happiness kicks the beam, leaving them the slaves of unceasing anxiety, apprehension, and fear. L'avaro quanto più hà, tanto più è bisognoso.

Although in this stanza the poet hath, according to custom, levelled his shafts at the descendants of Abraham, the Christians are no less reluctant than themselves in amassing gold at any price: and I very much question, if there are not existing among us many Judas's, who would not scruple at any sacrifice, so that wealth was but the purchase: for as religion, honour, and probity, have long been discarded by all ranks of society, in order to its attainment, I conceive that there would be no difficulty in bringing Christians to the perpetration of any crime in the service of Crœsus. Yet, let such fools remember,

There is scarcely any set of fools that call more loudly for the lash of satire, than these guardians of the rising generation. That schools are of utility, is beyond all doubt: but sorry am I to say, that they are too frequently converted into abuses. It hath very frequently come within mine own knowledge, to witness the conduct of boarding-school misses, when they have attained the ages of fourteen and fifteen: at such times I have beheld them enter the presence of the lady governess, hanging their heads, as Mrs. Cowley very characteristically observes, like dead partridges. Speak to them in French, and they are sure to reply in English. Request to hear some specimen of their performance on the piano forte, and you may then set it down for granted, that all the powers of affectation will be called forth, in order to plead a silly excuse. Follow them from the august presence of madam, to the interior of their own chambers, and there you will find all the little arts of petty intrigue and coquettish blandishments practised. In short, these misses are complete masqueraders, blushing at things they should not comprehend, and facing those faults with the most daring effrontery, which they should feel shame in owning. Such are, however, the effects resulting from the present system of education: whereas we never scarcely see a school-girl enter a room with noble confidence, and reply with firm, yet modest diffidence, to a question proposed. Had I a daughter, she should not remain at one of these seminaries, after the attainment of her tenth year; for, until that period, the childish imagination wantons with playful frivolity; it resists the curb of restraint, as far as relates to the operations of the mind, solely engrossed by the trifling gratifications, resulting from play and baubles. In short, till that period, all is well: nor would it be amiss if our legislature, like that of ancient Athens, was to establish public seminaries for the youth of both sexes, where every moral and religious duty was nourished and brought to perfection; and not nipped in the bud by starched, unnecessary forms.

If the mind cannot elicit one way, it certainly will another: and thence we find, that among the many, some will propagate bad, and others, good. But instead of watching these several propensities which should constitute the leading principle of tutors, they, on the contrary, attend to superface only; which is a sufficient reason why the propensity to evil so much overbalances the practice of good.

To such an extravagant pitch has this accomplishment arrived, that, instead of the mere steps which formerly constituted its excellence, being deemed sufficient for the ball-room, every little miss must now emulate the Opera House ladies, whose manners, a few years since, excited such disgust in the eyes of the lawn sleeved right reverends of the woolpack: and, indeed, we may exclaim with the Roman, in speaking of the conduct of our misses in this particular:

To hear the battle of Prague most unmercifully crucified by one of these expert daughters of Euterpe, who is not only devoid of taste but ears, hath frequently been the lot of the writer, whose feelings can only be conceived by those that have suffered a similar torture. Such I conceive to be one of the insufferable miseries of human life.

E da un matto voler insegnare non havendo imperato.

This is not to be wondered at, when we consider the contents of the foregoing stanzas of the poet. But in order to make the reader better acquainted with causes. it is necessary to observe, that the more masters the pupil hath, the more money is derived by the preceptors. As to the idea of genius in the scholar, that is never taken into consideration; and I have literally seen school drawings that would have disgraced an Ouran Outang. And to speak truly of the persons employed to teach at seminaries, they are but the fag end, the tag rag and bobtail of proficients in those very arts they pretend to be so well schooled in; and I must confess that they very frequently reminded me of the old woman, who took infinite pains to teach her boy to milk a boar. But to the point: it is truly surprising to see how easily a school bill is whipped up, what with entrances of masters, or rather labourers; charges for books which were never had; usage of the globes and piano forte, whose tones might well vie with the clank that resounds from a cracked tin kettle; and the more genteel sum which is tacked to the account, for miss being a parlour boarder, who is honoured with slip slop tea and a bit of the brown off the meat. These are the wheels within wheels that set so many seminaries in motion. Apropos: I had very nearly forgotten to descant on the topic of whipping, which is generally followed up pretty smartly by old maids, who revenge their own disappointments and ill humours on the breeches of their pupils: and although, in this instance, they adhere to the text of Solomon, who saith, He that spareth his rod hateth his son; but he that loveth him, chasteneth him betimes; and Butler also, who, speaking of flogging, says,

yet I am rather of opinion with Terence, who thus emphatically expresseth himself:

And now, by way of leave-taking, let me use the lines of Butler to these heads of schools:

In all ages hath this propensity been the characteristic of human nature: for instance, in Egypt the fascinating Cleopatra swallowed her pearl; at Rome, gold dust served as powder for the heads of the great, and was scattered for sand upon the spacious arena, to be trampled on by gladiators, or prize fighters, and their kindred friends, bulls and wild beasts; and in our own country a courtezan, Kitty Fisher, to display her contempt for money, and turn the fool into ridicule who thought her favours were to be so cheaply purchased, swallowed, between two slices of bread and butter, the donation of a fifty pounds bank bill, which had been so presented to her: nay, all ranks have their ideas on this head; and sailors, when returned from a prosperous cruize, having exhausted every natural art that could be pursued to gratify their doxies, have even been known to fry twenty watches in a pan, that they might place an extravagant dish upon the table. But this tallies with the old saying, “Gotten like horses, and spent like asses.”

Who can possibly contemplate the life of the great and philosophical Lord Bacon, and not feel enhorrored at this most pernicious folly, which not only contaminates the base and illiterate mind, but when indulged in, as in the instance of this enlightened character, is capable of subverting every noble effusion, and trampling under foot the combined attributes of reason, study, and the most consummate science.

This itch for discovering the faults of others, and acting the part of censor with respect to those very vices we are ourselves addicted to, is, by no means, confined to any particular class of society, nor to either sex; as men and women are equally subject to the contagion: of whom we may say with Cicero, Est proprium stultitiæ aliorum cernere vitia: oblivisci suorum.

Curiosity does not only brand its votary with the stigma of meanness; but is very frequently productive of more dangerous consequences. In sacred writ, even the command of Heaven was not sufficient to allay this desire: as the wife of Lot, for her folly and punishment, testifies. And, according to the fable of the ancients, Orpheus, the renowned son of Apollo and Calliope, for disobedience to the ordinance of Pluto, lost his beloved wife Eurydice.

The poet, certainly, could not have hit upon a discovery more easily to be made, at the present period; and the disgrace of which is more likely to be attachable to the discoverer; for the wives of this age afford an ample field for the scrutiny of prying fools; of whom it may be said with justice, that “Listeners hear no good of themselves;” as it is ten to one but the story applies to them, equally with the person of whom it is related. Thus every man hides his own antlers under the hood of his neighbour.

In the fairy tales of the Countess d'Aulnoi, is an excellent story, well calculated as a lesson on this head, which runs as follows:

“Fouribon, (the hump-backed prince) followed the queen, without saying a word: but stopped at the door, and laid his ear to the key-hole, putting his hair aside, that he might the better hear what was said. At the same time Leander entered the court-hall of the palace, with his red cap upon his head, so that he was not to be seen; and perceiving Fouribon listening at the door of the king's chamber, he took a nail and an hammer, and nailed his ear to the door.” The tale then proceeds to relate, that the cries of Fouribon reaching his mother, she flew to the portal; when, in the hurry of opening it, to learn the cause of his distress, she adds to his first punishment, by tearing off the ear which had been so nailed to the door.

The dire effects of this dreadful passion are most inimitably displayed in the well known Tragedy of Othello, where a noble unsuspecting nature is wrought upon by the base arts of an insidious villain, and truly indeed may Iago exclaim:

“My medicine works! Thus credulous fools are caught; and many worthy and chaste dames, even thus (all guiltless) meet reproach.”

In vain may beauty and the voice of innocence cry out; jealousy hath no ears but for revenge, no satisfaction but in blood; it is a monster that gluts upon its proper bane, feeding with fancies, the corrosive poison that destroys all peace. For though it dreads the truth it seeks to assertain, yet will it not give credence to the fact that would afford it consolation: 'tis thus with Othello, speaking to his wife before the murder:

In the Tragedy of The Revenge, is also depictured the dire effects of this raging passion, which, like a whirlwind, sweeps every thing away in its destructive course, or as the resistless torrent, that, dashing from some maddening height, bears away in its vortex every thing that would oppose its fury; even so doth vengeful jealousy carry with it universal destruction.

Theophilus Cibber affords a striking instance of human depravity of this species; who purposely connived at the incontinence of his wife with Mr. Sloper, that he might receive his money, and also extort from him heavy damages, by an action of Crim. con. which was instituted, but to little effect, for, on hearing the evidence, the infamy of the Plaintiff was so conspicuous, that the Jury awarded him Ten Pounds damages, and, to increase his punishment, the public were so exasperated at his conduct, that Cibber found it impossible to appear on the stage in this country afterwards, in consequence of which he embarked for Ireland, when the vessel was lost, and Cibber drowned; but, that we may not confine ourselves to fools of so late a period, we need only refer to the history of Pasiphæ, queen of Crete, who had a son and heir by her gallant lover, a Bull, which was most condescendingly fathered by her cornuted lord.

The Curious Impertinent affords an instance of a different nature, respecting fools of this species, where the hero of the tale, anxious to prove the fidelity of his wife, requests his bosom friend to make love to her, in order to make trial of her constancy; which is accordingly done, and with such success, that the husband has to thank himself for the horns he wears. This is not, however, the worst species of folly, for, however the reader may dispute the veracity of the ensuing statement, it is nevertheless grounded in truth. An individual, who shall be nameless, was in the habit of taking his wife every evening to the piazzas of Covent Garden, where he left her, in order to procure money, the wages of her own prostitution, and, if it so happened that she returned without such ill acquired gain, he was in the habit of chastising her severely; but with respect to the gratification of venality; through the medium of this degrading vice; how many husbands are there not, who wilfully put their wives in the way of great men, in order that they may gain their ends, heedless of the cries of conscience, and the goading sting of shame. Chi suoi vizii non doma, nelle sue mani la sua vergogna porta.

Sir John Perrot, the natural son of King Henry VIII. was very much addicted to passion, and was the first person who swore by God's wounds, now vulgarly termed zounds. In one of these fits of rage, he so far incensed Queen Elizabeth, that she ordered him into confinement in the Tower, where he continued for some time, until the queen, on account of their consanguinity, determined on giving him his liberty, and in consequence sent a message to indicate her pleasure, which happened to be at the momentous period of the threatened Invasion of England by the Spaniards; upon which Sir John having recourse to his accustomed oath, vowed that she only accorded this grace in order to command his services, for that he well knew, she would p—s herself through fear; which insolent reply being delivered to Elizabeth, so incensed her, that she changed her resolution, and in consequence, Sir John Perrot died in the Tower, a prisoner. Various fools have various ways of indulging this pernicious propensity,

of whom it may truly be said, according to the opinion of Butler, The splenetic Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, should not be omitted, whose occult science was vested in his toe; of whom Pliny saith, Pollicis in dextro pede tactu Lienosis medebatur.

It is certainly a fact, that fools are the favoured of Fortune, but not that race which studies to court her; for the caprice of the lady is so notorious, that she will only force herself upon those who either treat her with contempt, or never think about her.

The haughty and vainglorious Bajazet was the occupant of the very iron cage which he had caused to be constructed for the prison of his enemy, and after all his grandeur, it has been said that he became his own executioner, by beating his brains out against the bars of that very engine which denoted his degradation, and displayed his downfal to the eyes of every gaping fool.

The renowned Kouli Khan, whose conquering arms subdued the vast empire of Mogul, was stopped in his career by the hand of one of his own officers, who murdered him in his tent: but, were we to expatiate on this topic, and adduce every circumstance of a similar nature, in order to prove the instability of Fortune, no folio volume would be sufficient to comprize the catalogue; therefore, to fools of this cast, we will conclude with an excellent line of Sallust.

There is no vice more prevalent than the above, which, not content with slandering, where perhaps the lash is in some degree merited, will equally attack those whose lives are the most irreproachable; for, according to the French proverb, La moitiè du monde prend plaisir a medire, & lautre motiè a croire les medisances; which acts as a sufficient incentive to the garrulity of this class of fools. Yet howsoever the slanderer may conceive himself secure, danger will frequently attend this cacoethes loquendi, for none are more tenacious than those who feel convinced of their own integrity; and it should be remembered, that, “Fame damna majora, quam quæ estimari possuit;” let the fool therefore be prepared for the worst, whose pleasure consists in defamation. I had nearly forgotten to instance one set of men, who, although they pride themselves on their abilities, are notwithstanding the most determined advocates for this species of folly, by which I allude to the occupants of the opposition Bench in the House of Commons; who, while out of place, braud with every opprobrious epithet the very men and measures which they will the next day extol to the very skies, if taken into ministerial favour.

These are a silly tribe of ideots, who find their own concerns in life so vastly smooth, that they must needs meddle in the puddle of other men's disquietudes and follies, which are thereby very frequently transferred from the back of the sufferer to that of the fool who would be meddling; but that the reader may not say that I adduce facts without a proof, let me only ask him if he ever affixed his name to a promissory note for a distressed friend, without having himself to honour it, and on his reply will I ground my position. Let it not, however, be understood, that I mean to render every man selfish, and a niggard of his kindness, for such is by no means my intention; on the contrary, no man should withhold from extending his hand to support the falling, so long as he can conscientiously say, he neither injures himself or those connected with him: but it is to the stupid fool I would speak, who, discarding every rational caution, will, in despite of reason, clap his neck into the halter.

The folly of electioneering fools is, perhaps, of all others, the most conspicuous, for not only time is lost, to the prejudice of the man's family who embarks in this species of servitude, but he generally bestows his labour on one, whose first step will be to barter the liberty of his constituents for a place or a pension.

This rage, which we will denominate Cacoethes Carpendi, has been carried by a set of asses to the most ridiculous pitch; as an extra inch of margin to a book has commanded ten times the price of an equally fine copy of the work without it; as if the sublimity of Homer, or the wit of Horace was heightened by this additional width of the blank paper that skirts the text of the author.

Most of the works that issued from the presses of the above early printers, are illustrated with cuts so rudely executed, as frequently to appear like any thing but what they are really intended to represent; yet in the eyes of black-letter collectors, these deformities possess the most invincible charm; for as to the matter of the work, that never constitutes any part of the pleasure of these gentlemen; let the book be but perfect, and in good condition, and no more is required.

Interludes, Quarto plays and Tracts, have produced prices that may well brand their purchasers with the name of fools. What man of understanding would believe that the first edition of a play would produce £.80, while the same drama, printed at a later period, may be procured for sixpence? Or who would credit, that an interlude or tract, possessing neither rhyme nor reason, nor even an incident to afford instruction of any kind, will be knocked down by Messrs. Leigh and Sotheby, &c. &c. for five, ten, or fifteen guineas; yet these are facts that will stand the test of inquiry, and stamp their possessors well worthy the title which the poet has bestowed upon them.

The work above alluded to, gives an account of the several engravings of Englishmen that are extant, as well as Foreigners who have visited this country, to the period of the Revolution, among which are many rare prints mentioned, from the gravers of the artists here adverted to, and among the rest is an engraving of an infamous character, called Mull'd Sake, who not only followed the employ of a chimney sweeper, but was also a most notorious cheat and thief. This fellow, who had nothing but his infamy to recommend him, is, however, rendered of infinite consequence to the collectors of Granger portraits; for this simple reason, that the print alluded to is supposed to be unique, and on that account alone, the writer very much questions whether if a second impression of the portraiture of this most celebrated character was exposed to public auction, it would not be knocked down for £.50 to some fool of a Collector.

The work above alluded to, gives an account of the several engravings of Englishmen that are extant, as well as Foreigners who have visited this country, to the period of the Revolution, among which are many rare prints mentioned, from the gravers of the artists here adverted to, and among the rest is an engraving of an infamous character, called Mull'd Sake, who not only followed the employ of a chimney sweeper, but was also a most notorious cheat and thief. This fellow, who had nothing but his infamy to recommend him, is, however, rendered of infinite consequence to the collectors of Granger portraits; for this simple reason, that the print alluded to is supposed to be unique, and on that account alone, the writer very much questions whether if a second impression of the portraiture of this most celebrated character was exposed to public auction, it would not be knocked down for £.50 to some fool of a Collector.

Eleanor Rummin, the keeper of a filthy alehouse in the reign of Henry VIII. has been handed down to the notice of posterity by some wretched, disgusting lines of Skelton, the Poet Laureate of that day, who is another person mentioned above; while Matthew Hopkins, a notorious impostor in the reign of James I. practising on the credulity of that period, pretended to discover witches, by which he made considerable profit, though at the expense of nearly one hundred lives, which were sacrificed to his abominable practices, until he himself being accused of witchcraft, fell at last a victim to the very methods pursued by himself for the discovery of the black art in others. Of these three individuals, wood-cuts are extant, which are mentioned by Granger, as likenesses, though scarcely resembling human countenances, notwithstanding which, from their rarity, they are not only sought after with avidity, but, if offered to sale, would be purchased at the most extravagant price.

The poet, in this line, has had an eye to the excellent after-piece of Modern Antiques, which cannot be too frequently performed, to expose the false taste of these votaries of folly, of whom we may well say,

The writer was well acquainted with a virtuoso, who preserved, with the most scrupulous care, a scrap of the robe, found in the coffin of King John, at Winchester; who was also present at the opening of the vault, containing the remains of Edward the Fourth: on which occasion he tasted the pickle, found in the leaden receptacle of that monarch, in order to discover, if possible, of what liquids it was composed.—Oh, what a relish!

The history of this cup must ever excite a smile on the countenance of individuals, who are not enslaved by this extraordinary taste for relics of antiquity; and that the reader, therefore, may not accuse me of selfishness, I will, in as few words as possible, make him acquainted with the fact. Mr. Steevens, who, for some particular reason, did not feel any great predilection for the Antiquarian Society, caused a cup to be constructed of stone, on which he engraved some rude Saxon characters, apparently intimating, from broken syllables, that it was the vessel, out of which Hardi Knute used to drink to his knights at his round table. This vessel, by the manœuvres of Mr. Steevens, was conveyed to Somerset House, for the inspection of the learned body of antiquaries, after undergoing every necessary transfiguration, to give it the appearance of having imbibed the mould of age, the solemn hue of antiquity. Upon this cup the erudite Mr. Pegge wrote a very elaborate and learned disquisition, stamping it, indelibly, the vessel of Knute; after which it was returned to Mr. Steevens, through the channel which he had made use of in order to pass off his hoax. When that gentleman, having thus gained his end, most inhumanly published the whole transaction to the world; still augmenting his barbarity, by properly construing the lines engraven on the vessel, which proved no other than a most biting satire on the Society he had thus imposed upon. Among the impostors of this nature should not be omitted the Rowleian Chatterton, and the Shaksperian Ireland, whose memories will live as long as old chests and old manuscripts stand on record.

A very curious story is related of a collector of old coins, who, after displaying his valuable store to some amateurs, suddenly missed a rare gold piece, of the Emperor Carusius, which had peculiarly attracted the attention of his visitors, when, instantly securing the door of the apartment, he made the fact known, and requested that the gentlemen would turn their pockets inside out, in order to satisfy him that it was not in either of their possessions. Each of the visitors, anxious to vindicate himself from the charge of theft, instantly acquiesced with the desire of the collector, who, not finding his coin by this means, proceeded to acquaint the company that he must be under the necessity of administering a strong purgative to each party, which was accordingly ordered, notwithstanding the most vehement opposition on all sides; when wrought upon by this vigorous mode of attack, one of the amateurs, at length, confessed that he had been unable to resist the powerful temptation: and, as he wanted that coin only to render his series complete, he had literally taken the opportunity of swallowing it, in the hope of bearing away the prize; so that after evacuation he might be enabled to place it in his own repository. It is almost needless to add, that the injured collector did not suffer this swallower of emperors to quit his mansion, until Carusius had passed the great ordeal, and once more tasted the joys of light and liberty.

By way of sequel to the above, the reader should be informed, that shortly after the fact here related had taken place, an old acquaintance of this purging collector demanded the cause which had instigated him to adopt so extraordinary a method; when he confessed, that upon a former occasion he had himself pursued a similar expedient, in order to become possessed of a scarce coin, which was deficient in his assortment; and that, well knowing from experience that nothing less than a smart dose would have immediately brought forth the hidden treasure from his own bowels, he had consequently pursued that plan, on finding that his lost treasure was not concealed in the external accoutrements of his visitors.

In the Lives of the Saints, we are informed that Hubert, the hunter, became a convert to fasting and prayer, from a stag's appearing before him, while following the sports of the field, with a crucifix between his antlers. As to the truth of this legend the writer knows nothing; but, at the same time, conceives, that were such deer more common in the present day, they might deter many fools from acts of cruelty, which too forcibly bring to recollection the beautiful cogitations of Jacques on the wounded stag, in Shakspeare's As you like it.

That a lover of field sports may not want for a dinner, after one of these hard runs, I would advise him to adopt the plan of the Huns, who, according to Ammianus Marcellinus.

“Hunii semicruda cujusvis pecoris carne vescuntur, quam inter femora sua et equorum terga subsertam, fotu calefaciunt brevi.—Or, to quote Butler:

Although the poet, in the above line, has conveyed. a most bitter sarcasm on the amateurs of the chase, we cannot but reflect with pain on the untimely end of the late amiable and refined Marquis of Tavistock, whose death was occasioned by a fall from his horse while hunting, which melancholy event soon occasioned also the demise of his no less amiable lady. Nor can the writer but reflect with sorrow on the dreadful effects which the same diversion has produced in the person of the present Lord D*rh*st: not to mention innumerable other instances of a similar nature, of which there are living testimonies, who are not only rendered objects to the view of others, but are an unceasing burden to themselves.

It has been the misfortune of the writer to experience what is termed, a good chase; and never were his feelings more shocked than to witness the piercing cries of the timid hare, when the ravenous hounds darted on their inoffensive prey. As to the much vaunted music of a pack, it may do very well for gentlemen, whose ears are enamoured of no softer tones than those which resound from the blacksmith's hammer, or the united brayings of a dozen asses. But for the writer, who rather pretends to have a little music in his soul, he is so tasteless on the score of yelping curs, as to find in the sounds nothing but dissonance and vile harshness. As the annotator has been speaking of cruelty, he cannot but add a few words on the score of cocking, which generally claims the attention of sportsmen; than which no pursuit can possibly prove more repugnant to the mind of feeling and sensibility; and when it is remembered that the great cockfighter, Mr. Ardesoif, in revenge for his bird having lost him a main, literally roasted the unfortunate creature alive, it will not be said, that the poet has overstretched the bounds of truth in speaking of the callosity of those minds which are swayed by pursuits of this nature.

Shakspeare, in Measure for Measure, has delivered the horrors that oppress the mind, on contemplating death, in so beautiful a style, that the writer conceives no apology necessary for the introduction of the lines under this head:

Claud.
Death is a fearful thing.

Isab.
And shamed life a hateful.

Claud.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot:
This sensible, warm motion, to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods; or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick ribbed ice,
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or, to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling!—'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.

This verse of the poet is not only applicable to the renowned and free thinking Voltaire, but may, with equal justice, be applied to the Rev. Dr. Dodd, who, in his writings, held up to derision all idea of terror at the contemplation of futurity; yet, when condemned himself, by the dread behest of justice, no individual ever evinced less firmness, on encountering his doom, than did that unfortunate delinquent, to whom the following lines from Rowe's Fair Penitent may be well applied.

Sci.
Hast thou e'er dar'd to meditate on death?

Cal.
I have, as on the end of shame and sorrow.

Sci.
'Tis not the stoic's lessons got by rote,
The pomp of words, and pedant dissertations,
That can sustain thee in that hour of terror:
Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it:
But, when the trial comes, they stand aghast.

It is no very difficult matter to deride that which we have not experienced: but, in order to meet the blow of death with becoming calmness, we should ever keep the words of Persius in remembrance, who saith,

in which concentrates more sterling good, than all the boasted arguments of philosophers can inculcate; whose dying moments have, generally speaking, given the lie to their professions while living.

It is difficult to discriminate to what class of men this folly is most applicable, as they all partake of it in a certain degree; and are so thoroughly convinced of their weakness on this score, as to allow, that the more they have, the more they want: travellers are peculiarly the slaves of this temperament of mind, as the globe itself is insufficient to gratify their thirst after inquiry: nor can a finer lesson be displayed than De Foe's Robinson Crusoe, which is a most finished picture of the instability of the human intellect. But navigators are not more unsettled than what are denominated men of science, whose labours have no termination, and whose brains are eternally conjuring up new speculations, which are too frequently hazarded without the warranty of reason.

Much has been said of the female part of the creation, in speaking of this folly; nevertheless I must candidly affirm, that I do not perceive any feature so prominent in women, as to brand them more than their lords with this failing; and if we talk of affection, which is, perhaps, one of the noblest characteristicks of the human mind, the feminine part of creation undoubtedly claims pre-eminence over the male. Where can we find more extraordinary instances of heroism, than have been displayed by women who have been actuated by love for men in misfortune: they generally give proofs of possessing a greater portion of equanimity: and, in the hour of success, the same fervor of passion animates their bosoms: while men, yielding to the fascinations of pleasure, as universally waver from the fixed principle which honour, duty, and gratitude claim at their hands. In fine, the page of history displays one unvarying proof of the discontented and unsteady humour of mankind; kings would be gods; lords would be kings: every captain would prove an Alexander; and every beggar an independent gentleman: and yet, if it were possible to change their several stations at pleasure, a something would still be wanting to realize the scene of fancied happiness; and it is therefore most certain, that he who knows and enjoys the least, approximates the nearest to that most envied of all earthly states—content.

Time hath been when this nation was priest ridden, but now we are law ridden. Not that the professional gentlemen are so much to blame; for it is their province to exist on the folly of others: and if mankind will squabble about straws, lawyers are in the right to profit by their want of reason. As for my own part, I perfectly agree with the old French proverb, “Bon avocat, mauvais voisin;” and will endeavour to profit by the advice, while it shall please Heaven to make me a sojourner on this side of the grave. Merciful powers! How much do I feel pity for that fool who, as Butler saith,

In the rolls of parliament, A. D. 1445, is a petition from the commons of two counties, showing, that the number of attorneys had increased from eight to twenty-four, whereby the peace of those counties had been greatly interrupted by suits: the commons, therefore, petitioned that it may be ordained, that there shall be no more than six common attorneys for Norfolk, six for Suffolk, and two for the city of Norwich. Any other person, acting as an attorney, to forfeit 20s. They granted the prayer of the petition, provided the judges thought it reasonable!

Widow Blackacre, in Wycherley's excellent comedy of The Plain Dealer, is a most finished picture of this species of folly; neither can the writer refrain from noticing the anecdote of a noble peer, who complained to a friend, that he had a blood horse so excessively spirited, as to defy all attempts at breaking in; and that no place was sufficiently strong to contain him. “Say not so:” replied the gentleman, “do you but put him in the Court of Chancery, and I'll be bound he will never get out again.” Alexander Stevens, in his Lecture on Heads, used also to relate the facetious story of Bullam versus Boatum, which was a very fair sarcasm on this kind of legal warfare: for no country can boast more obstinacy and folly, on litigious points, than my own native island.

The subjoined paragraph will, it is conceived, prove a further elucidation of the poet's meaning:

The following was copied from the New Jersey Journal: “To be sold, on the 8th of July, 131 suits in law, the property of an eminent attorney, about to retire from business. Note, the clients are rich and obstinate!”

If, previous to a consultation with an attorney, a man would give a few moments to calm reflection, he would frequently save, not only his property, but what is far more valuable, his peace of mind: for, in the course of legal investigations, it is astonishing how many unforeseen circumstances the parties have to encounter; what with witnesses being fooled by counsel, or having rather deaf consciences, and juries swayed by prejudice, or the glib tongue of the pleader, it becomes a very dubious point, even in the clearest case, who will come off the victor: and it also very frequently happens that the vanquished, unable to pay expenses, surrenders himself to a gaol, leaving the gainer to liquidate all costs, and solace himself with the imprisonment of his adversary; who, after a period, calls upon him for the daily stipend of sixpence; in failure of the payment of which the plaintiff gives the defendant his liberty.

No set of fools require less commiseration than those at present under our review; for, notwithstanding the hourly proofs of the insufficiency of age in every instance which requires animal, and too frequently, mental exertion, we find the impulse of folly counteract each sober dictate of reason; as if by rushing into excess, we were to invigorate the system; and, by dissipating in youth, we hoarded up for age. There is, however, a medium between that over wariness which contaminates the mind with avarice, and the prodigality which beggars him who dissipates; for it has afforded matter for much disquisition, which of the two is most prejudicial, the penurious man, or the spendthrift: and, notwithstanding the ills resulting from the latter, it is, nevertheless, a received opinion, that the former is most inimical to the interests and well being of society. It is the province of every man to remember, that if a duration of life be granted him, he must, of necessity, become old; and that his youthful powers are not only accorded to him for the present enjoyment, but to ward against the evils of want in future: for he who is incapable of assisting either himself or others, will find but a cold reception from the world; and, like the drone in the hive, be turned adrift, as unworthy the protection of the industrious and the frugal. I shall now relate a fact respecting another species of fools, who may be classed under this head, and whose history was as follows.

A man, finding himself possessed of so many hundred pounds, when at the age of forty, took it into his head that he should just live to attain his 64th year; and, under this conviction, he calculated how much would be sufficient for his annual expenditure; which having accomplished, he divided and subdivided his gold into the number of portions, making his last farthing to be gone on the completion of the stipulated age of 64. Now, it so happened, that he not only lived to the above period, but fulfilled his 73d year; consequently, for the last nine years of his existence, being left pennyless, he had recourse to charity; and was never known to fail in attending on London bridge, which was his place of stand, where he appeared with a placard on his breast, whereon he had written these words, “Wrong in my calculation.” Which inscription, on account of its singularity, used to attract the attention of passengers, who, on hearing this story from the lips of the self-convicted fool, used to drop their mite, and profit by the instruction.

How shall I find words to convey a just idea of the matchless power and folly of this little blind urchin? what kingdoms has he not overthrown, what mighty men have not been subjugated to his will! Alexander for his Thais burned the famed city of Persepolis. Marc Antony for Cleopatra, bartered the dominion of the world. Love can transform wisdom into folly, and turn reason into madness: it will make the hundred eyes of Argus as blind as their resemblance on the peacock's tail; or lead in rosy bands the fierce and strong Cyclops famed workmen of the Lemnian Isle; it will burn as fierce in Friezeland as under the line, and animate the breast of stone: it is the unquenchable furnace of the brain, a firebrand in the blood—Woe be unto the man that cherisheth it: for it will engender naught but folly.

As to the whims of lovers, they are innumerable, being as capricious in fancy as the winds of March, or the showers of April; their bickerings, however, prove of no very serious consequence, for Terence has emphatically said,

In the above line, and throughout the following stanza, the poet very suddenly humiliates the celestial properties of love, and makes him but a dependent on carnal gratification: but as there seems a degree of impiety in his remark, I beg leave to be excused from venturing any opinions upon the subject.

Speaking of the power of this divinity over all humankind, Voltaire thus expressed himself in two lines to be graven under the Statue of Love.

And Butler makes his Hudibras conclude the heroieal Epistle to his Lady in these words.

In order to cool a little this connubial phrenzy, we will quote an anecdote of Rosso the Italian Poet, who in the memoirs of his life, written by himself, states, that he was extremely happy in two marriages: for his first wife was dumb, and his second blind; but, adds the bard, my third is neither one nor t'other!

Neither should be omitted the following remark of a very observant and clever man.

Louis XIV. one day asked the Marshal Uxelles why he did not marry? “Why,” said the blunt soldier, “Sire, I have not yet found the woman of whom I would wish to be the husband, nor the child of whom I would wish to be the father.”

There is most assuredly, infinite force in this line of the poet, which obviously alludes to the third stanza of the present section, and if indeed, we consider the point minutely, and measure the whole by the standard of the conduct of married people in general, there certainly appears something like reason in the conclusion drawn by the poetaster, who seems to indicate, that love is no other than desire, notwithstanding all its votaries swear to their mistresses point blank to the contrary.

At length our son of Apollo has let the cat out of the bag, for, if he turns platonic love into ridicule, he doubtless means to aver, that without sexual intercourse, nothing can exist but friendship and esteem, thereby rendering love a gross desire instead of an heavenly emanation, and treating it with as much nonchalance as if he was speaking of eating, drinking, sleeping, &c &c. yet what is to be said of Heloise, who was to be content with nothing, and “to dream the rest;” surely our poet must allow himself in error, if a lady of such a temperament as we are given to understand she possessed, could be satisfied in this easy manner; though I must confess, that he would confound me, did he ask what damsels of the present period, would think of such a namby pamby system.

Fontaine's fable on the effects of star-gazing, is not inapplicable to this section; who makes his Astronomer consider a planet for such a length of time, that, totally unmindful of his situation, he steps into a well, at whose brink he had taken his station. And the Satirist Butler, no less exposes the folly of these pretended Savans, when he causes the acute Sidrophel to mistake a lanthorn at a kite's tail, for some newly discovered comet.

Nothing can better expose the ridiculous folly of pretending to understand by the stars, the events which are to happen to mankind, than the following inimitable lines.

The great Newton, after all his researches into the regions of heaven, wrote a treatise on the Revelations; and the philosophic Boyle, whose mind soared above all vulgar prejudices, nevertheless quitted the tract he had so long pursued, in order to pen his Meditations, which were afterwards so ably satirized by Dean Swift, who inscribed his production “Meditations on a Broom Stick.” But what avails, let me ask, all this boasted research? Socrates, with his intense study, affirmed, that all he knew was, that he knew nothing; while Pyrrho, the founder of scepticism, alleged that he knew nothing, not even this, that he knew nothing; so much for the subtilization of the schools, and the refinement on philosophy.

This is most assuredly what may be termed a dead hit on the part of our poet, who hath, in the above line struck at the root of Astronomy, the research into which has never yet enabled us to comprehend the properties of that great luminary of heaven, although some learned fools have affirmed, that it consists of fire, and others have stated it to be the effect of attraction and reflection, while Anaxagoras, the Clazomenian philosopher, gravely asserts, that

Diogen. Laert. speaking of the opinions of Anaxagoras, thus expresses himself:

Anaxagoras affirmabat Solem candens ferrum esse, et Peloponesso majorem: Lunam habitacula in se habere, et colles, et valles. Fertur dixisse cœlum omne ex lapidibus esse compositum; damnatus et in exilium pulsus est, quod impiè solem candentem laminam esse dixisset. In Aristotle de cœlo, we find, that some Astronomers were of opinion, that the heavens were held up like a top, being kept in constant circulation. Plato believed, that the Sun and Moon were below all other planets; and the Egyptians have informed us, that the Sun has twice shifted its rising and setting; still, all is, as it was, the Sun riseth, the Sun setteth, it giveth light, and is the nourisher of vegetation; and be it what it may, it still is, and will ever be, what I denominate, the Sun. This I call stating facts which bid defiance even to scepticism.

The professor of Alchemy very shrewdly pretends, first to make gold, second to discover an universal medicine or panacea, and third, an universal dissolvent, or alkahest; the success which has attended these endeavours I leave to the discovery of others, as my province alone, consists in proving him by his labours, in every respect, entitled to the rank of fool; which is accomplished with little difficulty, when it is remembered, that if the alchemist produces gold, it is at a greater expense than the ore is intrinsically worth, while his panacea and dissolvent are yet in embryo, notwithstanding all the study, labour and expense bestowed upon the research.

Many fools have been led astray by the fascinating hope of making gold, and, among the rest, Mrs. Thomas, the authoress, and intimate friend of Pope, better known by the appellation of Corinna, is not to be forgotten; who was, for a long time, persuaded to place dependence on an Alchemist, who asserted his skill to be such, as to have attained to the summit of this extraordinary science; yet, let it not be supposed, that the lady was made the depository of all these wonders gratis; on the contrary, she paid dearly for peeping, having in return for the advance of her palpable coin, nothing but the mere shadow expectancy, which terminated as it began, in nothing; to this lady, as well as to all fools who yield to this madness, we may use the old Italian proverb: Non fidatevi al alchemista povero, ô al medico ammalato.

Although I may not be exactly correct, in jumbling Astrology with Alchemy, yet their relationship on the score of probability and possibility is such, that I cannot refrain from speaking under this section, of the renowned black art, concerning which, Voltaire, in his satirical poem of the Pucelle D'Orleans, gives these lines,

A very remarkable instance of this study is recorded in the person of Cornelius Agrippa, whose dog, on account of some antics which he had taught the animal to play, was supposed to be his familiar spirit; but the author of Magia Adamica, took infinite pains to vindicate both the master and the dog from this vile aspersion, and Cornelius himself, on account of the vulgar prejudices which prevailed against him, was subjected to the most rigorous persecutions, insomuch, that he in the end found out his folly, and wrote a treatise on the Vanity of all Human Science. But this popular odium is not to be wondered at, when we recollect, that the period of ignorance and superstition denominated every thing, and every body, above mortality, which possessed knowledge superior to the vulgar comprehension: thus we find that most of the gods of the ancients, from being originally proficients in different arts and sciences, were, after their demise, exalted to the rank of immortals. Friar Bacon, in the reign of Edward I. was supposed to be in league with the devil; Robert Grosthead, bishop of Lincoln, in the time of Henry III. was, on account of his learning, deemed a conjurer, and degraded by Pope Innocent IV. and Galileo, the astronomer, for venturing to affirm that the sun was a fixed body, and that the earth moved, endured captivity for a series of years in the Inquisition; but speaking of the Occult Sciences, we may say of its student, that Nor ought we to conclude this note, without applying the words of our immortal bard, who thus expresseth himself in King Lear. “This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are in sick fortune (often the surfeits of our behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treacherous, by spherical predominance: drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an inforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa major; so that it follows, I am rough and lecherous. I should have been what I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.”

The garrulity of this class of fools is so universally heard in the present day, that it is hardly possible to frequent a company without finding yourself pestered to death by one of these leeches; who, to gratify his self-enamoured fancy, sucks away every particle of your good temper, thus depriving you of the little pleasure which you had imagined the society might afford; this brings to mind these lines in the Merchant of Venice:

“Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff, you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search”.

No matter how difficult the art or science may be, the fool is equally au fait at every thing, so that ninety-nine men out of the hundred, only enact the part of Bobadil in different ways. Merciful Heaven! what instances of this presumptuous folly have I not been the witness of, until my very bowels have yearned within me! I had very nearly forgotten a curious instance of literary vain boasting, which appeared some time since on the title of a book written by a German Professor, who absolutely thus worded the nature of his treatise.

“Observations on all things and several other things besides.” But, to conclude, from all such men, “Good Lord deliver me!”

To hear the poor fool prate of riches, or the loath-some object talk of conquests in love affairs, is a species of vain boasting so palpable, as to draw down pity and contempt on the wretch who practises it; yet, show me the man possessed of the smallest share of discernment, who has not been a witness of this enormous folly; nay, and in the latter case particularly, it is to be observed, that the plainest individuals are the loudest in boasting: such men very much remind me of a baboon who should watch his beautiful mistress attiring herself, and afterwards have recourse to the same methods, in order to adonize his repulsive figure, which will appear to him equally bewitching, when reflected in the mirror, though all other eyes but his own perceive the deformity, and laugh in their sleeves at his consummate vanity. It is, notwithstanding, very requisite in this note, that I should say a few words by way of apology for this latter class of fools, who are certainly, in some respects entitled to indulge in their propensity, on account of the extraordinary taste evinced by many ladies of ton at the present era, who being possessed of every requisite that is desirable in an husband, will frequently (for the sake of diversity, I suppose) intrigue with a being, not only contemptible in person, but debased in mind. To adduce instances would be fruitless; however, a late crim. con. action is a sufficient testimony of the justness of this remark.

Onore, e vergogna se la donna li perde mai li ritrova.

Falstaff's relation to the Prince of Wales, may be so well applied to these fools, that I cannot refrain from quoting his words:

Hen.

O! monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal.

But, as the devil would have it, three mis-begotten knaves in Kendal-green, came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand).

Hen.

These lies are like the father that begets them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable,------

—Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendalgreen, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason: what say'st thou to this?—

A un grand bugiardo, ci vuol buona memoria.

The folly of this renowned chief is handed down to us, who blubbered in sooth, because he had no more worlds to conquer, or rather because be could cut no more throats; for I should like to know, if these great men, your Cæsars, Hannibals, Pompeys, &c. &c. were any other than a set of licensed robbers and murderers; therefore, well has a reverend divine said,

What has not ambition done, and what will it not undertake, to attain its object? read but the annals of the world, nay, even look to the simple relation of Spanish barbarity in Peru and Mexico; in short, there is not a state but has had to show its aspiring fools. Yet how must the braggart Lewis XIV. have been humbled, who in the progress of his glory, caused a medal to be struck, representing (in allusion to himself) the sun in its meridian splendour; but having received a check from the arms of King William, at that time Prince of Orange, a Dutchman executed a similar coin, with this addition, that the Prince of Orange was represented as Joshua commanding the Sun to stand still. Such are the reverses which high vaulting ambition must look to; such proved the downfall of a Wolsey, and may such be the declension and the fate of that Imperial fool, whose ambition even now grasps at the attainment of universal sway! Abbraccia tal volta la fortuna coloro, che vuol poi affogare.

It is of little consequence, whether or not the poet had his eye upon Shakspeare's simile in the above line, as the beauty of our dramatist's words it is hoped, will plead the annotator's excuse for their introduction here:

With all deference to the ideas of our bard, I must nevertheless alter a word in one of the lines given by him to King Richard,

For certainly, the more inordinate the ambition, the greater the fool who aspires to its attainment; when even throwing in the back ground all those break neck casualties, of which history adduces so many instances, the very summit of this species of fools' glory, will not enable him to stifle the yearnings of conscience, to ward off old age, to shut out pain, and escape from the jaws of death; if such be the case, I will not only say cui bono? but equally answer to the cuimalo? of any fool that shall propose the question—by stating, that the rapacious mind can enjoy no ease, and what is life without a quiet spirit? Like a Sisyphus, the ambitious ideot rolls up the hill the ponderous stone, which sooner or later must recoil, and crush him; say then what becomes of all his glory? well may he at last exclaim,

A famous ------ who might truly be denominated the modern Semiramis of the north, was a striking instance of ambitious folly, who did not scruple to connive at the murder of her own husband, as soon as she had grasped the reins of power: neither can I forget to instance the famous Cromwell, in England, who, after the publication of Colonel Titus's work entitled Killing no Murder, was in such a constant state of apprehension as to drive his own coach in disguise, fearful of assassination; while at the same time, he nightly changed his bedchamber, to evade the blow of the assassin.

It is said, that there may be found an English noble, whose pedigree goeth back even unto the era of the Roman emperors; which may certainly be the case; as we find some of their extraordinary propensities handed down to the present period in his own person.

The Welshmen are proverbial for priding themselves on the antiquity of their origin; to whom these lines of Shakspeare may well be applied:

This love of pedigree reminds me of the story of a fool, who, having suddenly acquired wealth, was very desirous of armorial bearings; and, for that purpose, made application to an herald, in order to know whether he had any right to a coat of arms; but the research was vain, until the dealer in pedigrees inquired whether or no some of his ancestors had not rendered themselves conspicuous by any notable feat: to which the fool, after some consideration, replied, that his father certainly had made himself famous by escaping from the prison of Ludgate, where he had been some time confined for petty larceny, and that his liberty was so effected, by his parent's having affixed a cord round the neck of the statue of King Lud, which was placed over the gateway, and by which means he let himself down.—“'Tis well,” exclaimed the herald, “I can now draw you out a pedigree of ten yards long, since it is plain that your father was a descendant from King Lud.”

The gentlemen of the College of Arms have a very happy nack at emblazoning, and can as easily produce yards as inches of pedigree, which tallies perfectly well with Butler's lines:

Apropos, as we are touching on the subject of heralds, it will not be amiss to say a few words respecting their accoutrements on high days and holidays; which very much resemble the leathern surtouts of brewers' men, or the gilt cock and breeches of Bartholomew fair: nay, I have sometimes thought that they were not altogether unlike moving packing cases: at all events, the wearers of tabards are usually as empty headed. But, referring once more to their costume, we should not pass over unheeded the words of Shakspeare, who makes his Falstaff thus ludicrously describe them: “There is but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without sleeves, &c.”

The annotator was for some time incapable of divining the meaning of the poet's allusion, till the pannel of a ducal carriage, one day, unravelled the mystery in the following manner. “Being lately at the west end of the town, a very dashing chariot came tearing along the street, and just drew up to the portal of a noble mansion, as the writer was passing it with a friend. The shower of mud, which came like hail from the rapid whirl of the wheels, caused us to halt; and one of the footmen vaulting from behind, with his long cane, which may be well termed the London lacquey's augural staff, opened the carriage door, when the noble owner stepped forth, regardless of the dirty pickle in which he had bedizened us plebeian pedestrians. “That is the Duke of ------,” exclaimed my friend. “Impossible,” answered I, glancing at the arms emblazoned on the pannel of the vehicle, where I could perceive no bar of bastardy. “Pshaw,” replied my friend, “your heralds, now-a-days, have a method of disposing of them, so as to draw a veil over that family obloquy.” Upon this he requested me to examine the arms more minutely, which I accordingly did; when lo! the cloven foot appeared, but so artfully wound round the shield in form of a garter, as to take away all appearance of the fatal bar, that insignia of illegitimacy. Thanks to the contrivance of the Collegians of Arms.

Aristotle, the famous father of this branch of philosophy, or, as others call it, pneumatology, seems to have intended by his metaphysics, a speoies of natural theology: yet, as in all cases of an abstruse nature, the several votaries of this science, have, in some measure, varied in their ideas on the subject, for instance, Locke, in England, and Malebranche, in France, racked their brains on this theme, and although much more perspicuous than the ancients, are frequently so intricate in their reasonings, as to send common sense a wool gathering; so that, speaking of these philosophers, we may well exclaim with the Roman, they are but “deliramenta doctrinæ:” or, to quote a sentence used by Mr. Locke, when he considers the association of ideas, “I conceive that such deep men of the schools only give sense to jargon, demonstration to absurdities, and consistency to nonsense; and have proved the foundation of the greatest, I had almost said, of all the errors in the world.”

This very acute metaphysician and logician, surnamed Doctor Subtilis, most assuredly may claim the wreath of most consummate folly: for, what with speculative ideas, such as the poet has instanced in the third and fourth lines of the above stanza, which allude to corpuscular philosophy, together with the jargon of the schools, he may well be said arenearum telas texere, while he intended to display the art of reasoning justly. Yet, soft, why do I dare presume to rail against this renowned character, whose oratory outvied the powers of the famed Orpheus, by giving animation even to stone, without instrnmental assistance: for we are very gravely informed, that, while Duns Scotus was haranguing the learned doctors of the day, on the subject of the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, he pointed to the stone effigy of the mother of our Saviour, placed in the church of Notre Dame, at Paris, upon which, in token of assent to the position of the speaker, the image very reverently bent its body, and is stated to have ever after continued in that curbed attitude. Another voluminous writer of later date, known by the name of Dr. Manton, produced in this country a thick folio volume of commentaries on the 119th psalm; to the reading of which the famous Lord Bolingbroke attributes all his scepticism on religious subjects: and, indeed, the production of the above doctor forcibly brings to mind these lines of Butler:

Dean Swift, in speaking of the folly of fast days, has been equally sarcastic in these lines:

In Erasmus's Praise of Folly, the reader may find the most severe sarcasms on these subtle fools, whom the author exposes to the lash of the most pointed ridicule; nor will Voltaire be found less acute in his remarks; who, upon all occasions, took delight in exposing the fallacy of such conceited pedants, whose sole aim seems to have consisted in bewildering their own and other people's understandings. The doctors of the Sorbonne, at Paris, who were esteemed the most acute theologians, are very justly ridiculed by Voltaire, in the following lines:

The most fallacious opinions have been cherished by numerous individuals of late, whose tenets not only proved destructive of religion and morality in France, but have equally been disseminated on this side of the Channel, to the detriment of a great portion of society: and certainly the observation of Seneca may be justly applied to all these scourges of reason and common sense, who says, “Distrahit animum librorum multitudo.” By the bye, I had nearly forgotten my foolish friend Goropius Becanus, who took an infinity of pains to prove that High Dutch was the language which Adam and Eve spoke in Paradise.

In allusion to the Stoics, who were the followers of Zeno, and maintained that pain is no real evil; that a wise man is happy, even in the midst of torture, &c. ideas, that bring to mind the words of Seneca, who says, “The more subtle things are rendered, the nearer they approximate to nothing.” And certainly, all such definition of things by acts bears the closer affinity to nonsense. Aristophanes, in his Comedy of the Clouds, very characteristically introduces Socrates and Chærephon, as taking an admeasurement of the leap of a flea from the beard of the one to that of the other.

This is assuredly a healing plaister, and might do very well, if, unfortunately, conscience had not, some how or other, been made a tenant of the human breast, whose cries will be heard, notwithstanding the jargon of such philosophers, I would say, fools! Meglio vale esser dotto che dottore.

If the annotator was to enter upon this topic, a simple note would be swelled into a thick volume: so numerous has been this race of defilers of paper. It is, however, sufficient to say, that their ponderous folies may be found at the cheesemongers': “Yea, even unto the present day.”

Whether the Supreme Author of all things be denominated God, or Nature, or Chance, is, to my mind, a matter of little consequence, so that his existence be but granted in its full extent; for a mere word cannot alter the attributes of divinity. Such, however, is not exactly the case: for there are men who talk of chance, under a different impression, though they are incapable of comprehending it; which, after all, brings the matter to one point; and the dispute at last is merely whether we should say shoes of leather, or leathern shoes.

Of this unfortunate race of fools there have, alas! been too many; and, to the sorrow of Apollo and the Muses, there is still an abundance, both as rhymesters and blank verse composers: not to lay any stress on the score of obscenity, which has been published by these gentlemen, to the detriment of morality, there are, literally productions of this nature, which neither display one spark of the fire of imagination, nor even a trace of the composition, so requisite in all poetic effusions. To every rhymester of this class, I advise the selection of themes, similar to those which follow, for the trial of his skill in versification.

To all such dabblers in the puddles of Parnassus, I will content myself, with saying, in the words of Boileau,

Supposed, in allusion to the offerings presented, of necessity, at the altars of the renowned goddess, Cloacina.

Having annotated the theme of our bard, as far as relates to the mushroom tribe of poets and authors, who have of late years sprung up, it would be highly culpable in me not to say something on the score of publishers; as I shall, by this means, put the other two classes of fools into better humour with me than they enjoy in the present instance.

It is necessary, in the first place, to remark, that printers and publishers were, formerly, one and the same thing; while it must be added that their scientific knowledge was extensive, and not circumscribed, as at the present period, to the title and dimensions of a work, No bookseller thinks of purchasing a production, now-a-days, without sending the MS. to be perused by some supposed learned critic in the back ground, who is payed for his trouble, and whose fiat is irrevocable with the dealer; possessing an head, in most instances as thick and ponderous as the binder's hammer, which, at some future period, belabours the publication, previous to its adonization in morocco, russia, or calf. There is, however, no rule without an exception, as may be instanced in a famous vendor of modern made books, whom I shall denominate the great Mæcenas of literary lumber. This gentleman arrogates to himself exclusively the title of author and book-maker general; as no work, he affirms, issues from his warehouse, which had not only received his mere sanction, but was positively planned by himself; so that, upon all occasions, he converts his writers into labourers, who are to commit his sublime conceptions to paper.

Therefore it is no longer the author who supports the bookseller, but the bookseller the author, according to his maxim. But to have done with this Mæcenas, let us but glance our eyes from Tower Hill to Hyde Park Corner, and where shall we find a publisher possessed of one genuine spark, connected with the love of Les Belles Lettres? no where is this phœnix to be found. Genius may go hang or drown itself, while the execrable trash of men of fortune and rank is caught at with avidity; and, being bedecked with margin and plates, struts into the world to be bought by fools, whose judgment is circumscribed to the love of gewgaw, and whose reading extends no further than the gold tinsel which bedecks the bindings of their trumpery purchase. As such, O! poets and authors are the publishers of the present era, no wonder that your ideot reveries are committed to the press, since being yoke fellows all, it would be strange, indeed, to find the fool capable of discriminating and despising his brother's folly.

Not to lay any stress on the voluminous productions of that class of metaphysical and philosophical fools, mentioned by the poet in the foregoing section, there are, indeed, a sufficient quantity of a different species to warrant these lines; and of that number we may particularly instance the works of plagiarists, which are incessantly issuing from the press, and managed with so little skill and such barefaced effrontery, as absolutely to create astonishment. This neglect, however, on their parts, may be construed, in some respects, as a proof of their knowledge of society, as it is, which contents itself with the froth, the saperface, or fly-away literature, leaving the sterling to the few who have minds sufficiently enlightened to profit by the instructions they contain. Of plagiarists we may say with Jovius: Castrant alios, ut libros suos, per se graciles, alieno adipe suffarciant. With respect to novels and romances, they are of longer standing than may at first be imagined: not to mention ancient metrical romances, the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney, written in the reign of Elizabeth, &c. and which is justly lashed by my Lord Orford, who calls it a dull pedantic production, which a love-sick maid could not wade through, we have other instances which are of French extraction; such as Cassandra, The Grand Cyrus of Madam Scudery, &c. which were translated into English by Sir Clement Cotterel, Loveday, &c. and which, doubtless, led the way to the after productions of a similar stamp, and which are now not daily, but hourly produced, to the disgrace of modern times. These reams of Leaden Hall lumber, though issuing under the auspices of a Minerva, are not, however, to be solely condemned on the score of nonsense, but are deserving the severest lash of criticism, on account of the frequent destructive tendency they have to the morality of the rising generation, which reads this species of production with such marked avidity.

Who can peruse the annals of the Roman emperors, without allowing the truth of this remark; as, with very few exceptions, their reigns were characterized with murder, prodigality, incest, extravagance, voluptuousness, bestiality, and, in short, every folly and vice that is abhorrent to human nature. As to the emperor who made a consul of his horse, he can scarcely be denominated a fool; as that noble animal is, most assuredly, deserving any dignity, when placed in the company of a set of asses.

Many instances might be displayed of this inordinate folly in imperial ideots: but one, which particularly stands on record, and, at the present moment, occurs to my recollection, is adduceable in the person of Alexander the Great, who thought fit to bastardize himself, by assuming a certain degree of heathenish godhead, in pretending to derive his being from the great Jupiter Ammon.

Nothing can possibly display more forcibly the folly of imperial or kingly vanity, than the energetic lines of Shakspeare, in his tragedy of King Richard the IId. which run thus:

The renowned William the Conqueror affords an instance, even more striking than the fact above stated; since it is recorded, that after his demise, his corpse continued some days above ground, on account of the difficulty there was, even to procure a spot of earth in order to bury him, owing to the animosity that individual entertained towards him while living, on whose domain he expired. The great Charles the Fifth, the emperor, after all his conquests and glory, terminated his career by entering a monastery; and thus relinquishing that, for which he had toiled with so much assiduity. Then, fare-well to regal folly! for

This species of egotism is as frequent in society as any other epidemic folly with which it is assailed, and well merits the following quotation from Terence:

The poet, in the above line, alludes to the celebrated Delphian Oracle of Apollo, which was supposed by the ancients, never to fail, and was delivered by a virgin named Pythia or Phœbus. Whether the Bos in the foregoing line, alludes to the brazen bull presented by the tyrant of Agrigentum to this famed temple, we are at a loss to conjecture; from the emptiness, however, of the skull of that brazen animal, and from the brassy impudence of his countenance, it is shrewdly surmised, that the poetaster might have intended it in allusion to the properties of that species of fools who were then under his consideration.

The vanity of Nero the emperor, is recorded by many historians; who needs must pique himself on being the best actor and musician in Rome; and in order that he might have no competitor, he caused the finest performer of that time (who had acquired great fame) to be murdered; and with respect to his musical talents, the burning of the then capital of the universe, was deemed but a fit accompaniment to one of his solos on the fiddle.

Notwithstanding the gratification which these conceited fools may derive from their overbearing impertinence, it is, nevertheless, impossible, but that they must frequently experience the keenness of rebuke, and suffer a degree of mental pain on witnessing the marked hatred of such as are tortured in their society; during such moments, therefore, I would recommend to their consideration, these lines of our bard, so truly applicable to their situation:

The advice of Hamlet to his mother, when he urges her to refrain from any further converse with his uncle, is admirably calculated to impress the mind with the necessity there is for beginning at once a reformation; and that when the first step is taken, every subsequent one becomes less arduous. Nor are the words of the Prodigal Son, in the inimitable parable of our Saviour, less requisite to these fools, when he says, “I will arise and go unto my Father, and will say unto him—Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and against thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy Son.”

This reminds me of the story of Balaam, who would not believe, though his ass spoke! and indeed, to the multitude of fools who yield to this propensity, we may say with Horace,

A vehicle which neither comes under the head of curricle or buggy, being drawn by two horses at length, and not abreast, in order to display the dexterity of gentlemen coachmen. This appellation, which originated at one of the Universities, is perfectly consonant with the wit of the present race of what are termed students, whether with trencher caps, or fellow commoners' gowns.

In the prayers of the famous Dr. Johnson is recorded, a curious instance of this foolery; for even that learned man, therein confesses, that he nightly retired to rest, with the determination of amending his course of life, and rising early in the morning, but, when the morrow came, he as invariably yielded to his old propensities, and continued in bed oill mid-day. It would have been well for our Lexicographer, had he called to mind the following Italian proverb, which so well expresses the fruits derived from labour. Travaglio vinea la palma, e monda la rugine dell' alma.

The folly considered by the poet in this section, which may be well termed obduracy in sinning, is far more excusable in youth than in old age, for when we view deadened passions, and the grey hairs of experience, still obedient to foolery, and lost to conscience and approaching death, there is certainly no excuse to palliate the dereliction from reason, which frequently involves the fool in dangers from which, not even the grave itself can relieve him, having tainted the soul as well as the body with vice. Assidua occupatione impedisce la tentatione.

This is certainly a pretty pointed stroke at our present race of nobles, who merit the sarcasm, I am sorry to add, but too justly; as therefore it would be impossible to cleanse the existing Augean stable, we offer the following lines to the youthful fry, who will at some future period, inherit the titles and estates of their fathers; Heaven grant that their follies may not equally bear them company!

The destructive vice of gambling is most particularly cultivated by our fools of rank and title, not only males, but females; and in too many instances, I fear, has the dame, after losing every shilling of cash, staked her reputation on the cast of the die, and thereby entailed the title of her lord upon a bastard progeny.

This is alas, too true, for although the feudal system had its vices, it was not destitute of hospitality; for then the hall of every chieftain's castle rung with the strains of joy, while the thick oaken board groaned beneath the weight of viands and nappy brown ale; (vid. by way of proof, numerous items in the Northumberland household book, and many MSS. of a similar kind, preserved in other ancient families;) whereas, in the present day, those sums, which might alike procure the blessings of the multitude, by being so dispensed, are, on the contrary, squandered in the metropolis, on every species of wanton extravagance, and, too frequently, low and disgraceful debaucheries.

This is a fact which repetition has rendered so notorious, that it would be folly to offer any apology for the poet, who well knew, that though the persons of our peers are not tangible, their goods are no ways secured from the clutches of the hungry law.

As to dancing Peers and great folks, they are of ancient standing; witness Sir Christopher Hatton, who was the favoured of Elizabeth, from being quite au fait at turning out his toes. But of later date, who does not know, that Lord Lainsborough, in Queen Anne's reign, was so fond of this amusement, as to advise his sovereign to jig away her grief for the loss of George of Denmark— nay, even the solemn station of a Lord Chancellor has not withheld him from dancing reels, to the no small wonder of his brethren, the sapient periwigged judges.

This folly is the more unaccountable, as it is certain to terminate finally in that event which is the most dreaded by every class of fools; so that it may certainly be said, the foolery brings with it the reward of its folly; but, speaking of sickness, who can call to mind these beautiful lines of Shakspeare, and not allow their sterling merit.

There is another folly, which, when opposed to that at present under consideration, is no less ridiculous. It consists in placing too much reliance on physical; aid a very curious instance of which is related by the French historians, in the person of the savage Lewis XI. who, while he inflicted tortures on hundreds, was himself even more afflicted; for we are informed, that he was so much the slave of one Jacques Coctier, his physician, that he suffered at his hands the most insolent and threatening language; conceiving that his life was solely preserved to him by the skill he professed; and Jacques Coctier, on such occasions would increase the horrors of the monarch, by exclaiming—“Je sçais que vous me donnerez mon congé, comme vous l'avez donné a d'autres; then, rolling his eyes and swearing, he would add, “mais vous ne vivrez pas huit jours apres.” Upon which, the king would humbly crave mercy, and submit to any degradation. But at this conduct of Coctier to his sovereign we need not be surprised, when we are told by Gaguin, in his Latin history, that the wretch did not scruple to order as remedies for his royal patient, the warm blood of infants to drink, as well as to bathe in. That the reader, however, may learn the consummate folly of this monarch, in its full extent, it is necessary to add, that when he found the powers of medicine fail, Al mal mortale né mediear, nè medècina vale, he sent for a very pious hermit, called François Martotille, whom he received with as much ceremony as if he had been the sovereign Pontiff, and to this pious old man he prostrated himself to earth, supplicating by promises and gifts that he would intercede with Heaven, to grant him a prolongation of existence; but Martotille being too honest to profit by this foolery of the king, exhorted him, on the contrary, rather to think of the world to come, than the present state of existence; which advice was far from the monarch's wish, who therefore dismissed the hermit, and as a dernier resort, being wrought upon by superstitious timidity, he literally caused various relics of saints to be arranged around his bed (which were not only brought from different parts of his own dominions, but procured at an enormous expense from Rome and Constantinople) by means of which, he conceived, that the approach of death would be barred from him. It is merely necessary to add, that the punition Lewis XI. thus experienced, seemed but a manifestation of the just vengeance of Omnipotence, for the sanguinary proceedings which characterized the reign of that monarch.

It is certain that though the rashest actions have at times been crowned with success, they are but few in number, when compared with the destructive termination which has in general accompanied this species of folly.— Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, proved himself a rash fool, in opposing the whole army of the Turks at Bender, when he had but a few followers; nor was there more real bravery in his conduct than was displayed some years back, by the fool who walked round the iron balustrade which appears at the summit of the monument; for in both cases, the same fact will hold good, viz. had the Swedish monarch been shot, no one would have pitied his fate, but branded him with the well earned appellation of fool; and, in like manner, if the ideot who sported himself on the rail of the monument, had been precipitated to the bottom, there would have been but one opinion—That his foolhardiness well merited its punishment. Such being the fact, let all rash men, ere they undertake an action, consider only what will be the derision of mankind, if they fail, and that simple interrogatory will at once instruct them, whether or no their conduct is sanctioned by the dictates of reason, common sense, and prudence, for the latter requisite is as absolutely essential to real courage, as any other.

Notwithstanding the modern vocabulary of honour, which tells a man to risk his life, because another treads upon the tail of his dog; I must nevertheless affirm, that such conduct has nothing to do with real courage; for there are but very few injuries of such a glaring nature as to demand the blood of one fellow creature at the hands of another. Would it argue real courage, let me ask, for a man of a delicate and weak habit, and quite devoid of skill, to put his strength in opposition to an experienced bruiser? or would it redound to the credit of an individual who had never fired a pistol, to place himself within twelve paces of a man who could hit a crown piece at 30 yards, and who was to have the first shot into the bargain; if such be the standard bravery, and the touchstone of honour, I must certainly coincide with Falstaff, when he exclaims,

“What is honour? a word—What is that word honour? Air; a trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No.”

Dr. Paley, in his Political and Moral Philosophy, very justly observes, that honour is nothing more than a law instituted by one certain class of people which is to act as a tie upon another, having no reference whatever, either to religion or morality; and with respect to that species of honour which prompts a man to rush headlong into ruin, it is invariably the rule, that if the actor succeeds, he is crowned with the applause of the multitude; whereas, if he fails, he is sure to be as universally reprehended.