I N° CCCLV. THURSDAY, APRIL 17. SON EGO MORDACI DISTRINXI CARMINE QUENQUAM. OVID. TRIST. L. Z. Y. 5638 T NE'ER IN GALL DIPP'D MY INVENOM'D PEN, Have been very often tempted to write invectives upon thofe who have detracted from my works, or spoken in derogation of my perfon; but I look upon it as a particular happinefs, that I have always hindered my resentments from proceeding to this extremity. I once had gone through half a fatire, but found fo many motions of humanity riting in me towards the perfons whom I had feverely treated, that I threw it into the fire without ever finishing it. I have been angry enough to make feveral little epigrams and lampoons; and after having admired them a day or two, have likewife committed them to the flames. Thefe I look upon as fo many facrifices to humanity, and have received much greater fatisfaction from the foppreffing fuch performances, than I could have done from any reputation they might have procured me, or from any mortification they might have given my enemies, in cafe I had made them public. If a man has any talent in writing, it fhews a good mind to forbear antwering calumnies and reproaches in the fame fpirit of bitterness with which they are offered: at when a man has been at fome pains in making fuitable returns to an enemy, and has the inftruments of revenge in his hands, to let drop his wrath, and itifle his refentments, feems to have fomething in it great and heroical. There is a particular merit in fuch a way of forgiving an enemy; and the incre violent and unprovoked the offence has been, the greater till is, the merit of him who thus forgives it. I never met with a confideration that is more finely fpun, and what has better pleafed me, than one in Epictetus, which places an enemy in a new light, and gives us a view of him altogether different from that in which we are used to regard him. The fenfe of it is as follows: Does a man reproach thee for being proud or ill-natured, envious or conceited, ignorant or detracting? Confider with thy felf whether his reproaches are true: if they are not, confider that thou art not the perfon whom he reproaches, but that he reviles an imaginary being, and perhaps loves what thou really art, though he hates what thou appeareft to be. If his reproaches are true, if thou art the envious illnatured man he takes thee for, give thyfelf another turn, become mild, affable, and obliging, and his reproaches of thee naturally ceafe: his reproaches may indeed continue, but thou art no longer the perfon whom he reproaches. I often apply this rule to myfelf; and when I hear of a fatirical fpeech or writing that is aimed at me, I examine my own heart, whether I deferve it or not. If I bring in a verdict against myself, I endeavour to rectify my conduct for the future in thofe particulars which have drawn the cenfure upon me; but if the whole invective be grounded upon a falfhood, I trouble myfelf no further about it, and look upon my name at the head of it to fignify no more than one of thofe fictitious names made ufe of by an author to introduce an imaginary character. Why fhould a man be fenfible of the fting of a reproach who is a ftranger to the guilt that is implied in it? or fubject himself to the penalty, when he knows he has never committed the crime? This is a piece of fortitude, which every one owes to his own innocence, and without which it is impoffible for a man of any merit or figure to live at peace with himself in a country that abounds with wit and liberty. The famous Monfieur Balzac, in a letter to the Chancellor of France, who had prevented the publication of a book against him, has the following words which are a lively picture of the greatnefs of mind fo vifible in the works of that author. If it was a new thing, it may be I fhould not be difpleafed with the fuppreffion of the firit libel that should abuse me; but fince there are enough of them to make a small library, I am fecretly pleased to fee the the number increased, and take delight in raifing a heap of ftones that envy has caft at me without doing me any ⚫ harm.' The author here alludes to thofe monuments of the eastern nations, which were mountains of ftones raifed upon the dead body by travellers, that used to caft every one his tone upon it as they paffed by. It is certain that no monument is fo glorious as one which is thus raised by the hands of envy, For my part, I admire an author for fuch a temper of mind as enables him to bear an undeferved reproach without refentment, more than for all the wit of any of the finest fatirical reply. Thus far I thought neceffary to explain myfelf in relation to thofe who have animadverted on this paper, and to fhew the reafons why I have not thought fit to return them any formal answer. I muft further add, that the work would have been of very little ufe N° CCCLVI. FRIDAY, APRIL 18. APTISSIMA QUÆQUE DABUNT DII, CHARIOR EST ILLIS HOMO QUAM SIBI! THE GODS WILL GRANT Juv, SAT. x. v. 349. WHAT THEIR UNERRING WISDOM SEES THEE WANT: It is owing to pride, and a existence, T is owing to pride, and a fecret af that the nobleft motive for action that ever was propofed to man, is not .acknowledged the glory and happiness of their being. The heart is treacherous to itself, and we do not let our reflections go deep enough to receive religion as the most honourable incentive to good and worthy actions. It is our natural weaknefs, to flatter ourselves into a belief, that if we fearch into our inmoft thoughts, we find ourfelves wholly difinterested, and divefted of any views aring from felf-love and vain.glory. But however fpirits of fuperficial greatnefs may difdain at first fight to do any thing, but from a noble impulfe in themlelves, without any future regards in this or any other being; upon theter enquiry they will find, to act worthily, and expect to be rewarded only in an other world, is as heroic a pitch of virtus as human nature can arrive at. If the tenor of our actions have any other motive than the defire to be pleafing in the eye of the Deity, it will neceffarily fol low that we must be more than men, if we are not too much exalted in profperity and depreffed in adverfity. the chriftian world has a Leader, the contemplation of whose life and sufferings mult adminifter comfort in affliction, while the fenfe of his power and omnipotence must give them humiliation in profperity. But It is owing to the forbidden and unlovely constraint with which men of low conceptions act when they think they conform themfelves to religion, as well as to the more odious conduct of hypocrites, that the word Chriftian does not carry with it at firft view all that is great, worthy, friendly, generous, and heroic. The 718 When a man with a steady faith looks back on the great catastrophe of this day, with what bleeding emotions of heart must he contemplate the life and fufferings of his Deliverer! When his agonies occur to him, how will he weep to reflect that he has often forgot them for the glance of a wanton, for the applaufe of a vain world, for an heap of fleeting paft pleafures, which are at prefent aking forrows! How pleafing is the contemplation of Multitudes followed him, and brought chearful hours, and innocent conver But though the facred ftory is every The great change of things began to cometh in the name of the Lord!' At benefactor benefactor, and were now enough exafperated with benefits to confpire his death. Our Lord was fenfible of their defign, and prepared his difciples for it, by recounting to them now more diftinctly what should befal him; but Peter, with an ungrounded resolution, and in a flush of temper, made a fanguine proteftation, that though all men were offended in him, yet would not he be offended. It was a great article of our Saviour's business in the world to bring us to a fenfe of our inability, without God's affittance, to do any thing great or good; he therefore told Peter, who thought fo well of his courage and fidelity, that they would both fail him, and even he should deny him thrice that very night. But what heart can conceive, what THE tongue utter the fequel? Who is that yonder buffeted, mocked, and fpurned? Whom do they drag like a felon ? • Whither do they carry my Lord, my King, my Saviour, and iny God? And will he die to expiate those very injuries? See where they have nailed the Lord and Giver of life! How his ' wounds blacken, his body writhes, and heart heaves with pity and with agony! O Almighty Sufferer, look down, look down from thy triumphant infamy: lo, he inclines his head to his facred bofom! Hark, he groans! fee, he expires! The earth trembles, the temple rends, the rocks burft, the dead arife. Which are the quick? Which are the dead? Sure nature, all nature is departing with her Creator." N° CCCLVII. SATURDAY, APRIL 19. -QUIS TALÍA FANDO VIRG. N. II. v. v. 6. WHO CAN RELATE SUCH WOES WITHOUT A TEAR? THE tenth book of Paradise Loft has a greater variety of perfons in it than any other in the whole poem. The author, upon the winding up of his action, introduces all those who had any concern in it, and fhews with great beauty the influence which it had upon each of them. It is like the latt act of a well-written tragedy, in which all who had a part in it are generally drawn up before the audience, and reprefented under those circumftances in which the determination of the action places them. I shall therefore confider this book under four heads, in relation to the celestial, the infernal, the human, and the imaginary perfons, who have their refpective parts allotted in it. To begin with the celeftial perfons: the guardian angels of Paradife are defcribed as returning to heaven upon the fall of man, in order to approve their vigilance; their arrival, their manner of reception, with the forrow which appeared in themselves, and in thofe fpirits who are faid to rejoice at the conversion of a finner, are very finely laid together in the following lines. T Up into Heav'n from Paradife in hafte news Much wond'ring how the fubtle fiend had stol'n The fame Divine Perfon, who in the foregoing parts of this poem interceded for our first parents before their fall, overthrew the rebel angels, and created the world, is now reprefented as defcending to Paradife, and pronouncing fen tence upon the three offenders. The cool of the evening being a circumstance with which Holy Writ introduces this great fcene, it is poetically defcribed by our author, who has alfo kept religiously to the form of words, in which the three feveral fentences were paffed upon Adam, Eve, and the Serpent. He has rather chofen to neglect the numeroufnels of his verfe, than to deviate from thofe fpeeches which are recorded on this great occafion. The guilt and confufion of our first parents ftanding naked before their Judge, is touched with great beauty. Upon the arrival of Sin and Death into the works of the creation, the Almighty is again introduced as fpeaking to his angels that furrounded him. duce the feveral changes in nature, and fully the beauty of the creation. Accordingly they are reprefented as infecting the stars and planets with malignant influences, weakening the light of the fun, bringing down the winter into the milder regions of nature, planting winds and ftorms in feveral quarters of the sky, ftoring the clouds with thunder, and in short, perverting the whole frame of the univerfe to the condition of it's criminal inhabitants. As this is a noble incident in the poem, the fol • See! with what heat thefe dogs of hell ad-lowing lines, in which we see the angels " vance, To waste and havock yonder world, which I So fair and good created;' &c. The following paffage is formed upon that glorious image in Holy Writ, which compares the voice of an innumerable hoft of angels, uttering hallelujahs, to the voice of mighty thunderings, or of many waters. He ended, and the heav'nly audience loud Sung hallelujah, as the found of feas, Through multitude that fung- Juft are thy ways, Righteous are thy decrees in all thy works, • Who can extenuate thee?'. Though the author in the whole courfe of his poem, and particularly in the book we are now examining, has infinite allufions to places of Scripture, I have only taken notice in my remarks of fuch as are of a poetical nature, and which ale woven with great beauty into the body of the fable. Of this kind is that paffage in the present book, where decribing Sin and Death as marching through the works of Nature, he adds, -Behind her Death Clofe following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horie Which alludes to that paffage in Scripture fo wonderfully poetical, and terrifying to the imagination. And I looked and behold a pale horfe, and his name that fat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him: and power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with fword, and with hunger, and with fick nefs, and with the beasts of the earth.' Under this first head of celestial perfons we muit likewife take notice of the com. mand which the angels received, to pro heaving up the earth, and placing it in a different pofture to the fun from what it had before the fall of man, is conceived with that fublime imagination which was fo peculiar to this great author. Some fay he bid his angels turn afcance The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more From the fun's axle; they with labour push'd Oblique the centric globe. We are in the fecond place to confider the infernal agents under the view which Milton has given us of them in this book. It is obferved by those who would fet forth the greatnefs of Virgil's plan, that he conducts his reader through all the parts of the earth which were difcovered in his time. Afia, Africa, and Europe, are the feveral scenes of his fable. The plan of Milton's poem is of an infinitely greater extent, and fils the mind with many more aftonishSatan having furing circumstances. rounded the earth feven times, departs at length from Paradife. We then fee him fteering his courfe among the conthe whole creation, purfuing his voyage ftellations, and after having traversed through the chaos, and entering into his own infernal dominions. His firft appearance in the affembly of fallen angels, is worked up with cir cumftances which give a delightful furprife to the reader: but there is no incident in the whole poem which does this more than the transformation of the whole audience, that follows the account their leader gives them of his expedition. The gradual change of Satan himself is defcribed after Ovid's manner, and may vie with any of thofe celebrated transformations which are looked upon as the most beautiful parts in that poet's works. Milton never fails of improving his own hints, and beftowing the last finishing touches to |