must be improved by reading the orators and poets, and the celebrated masters in every kind: this will give you a right taste and a true relish; and when you can distinguish the beauties of every finished piece, you will write yourself with equal commendation.

I do not assert that every good writer must have a genius for poetry; I know Tully is an undeniable exception: but I will venture to affirm that a soul that is not moved with poetry, and has no taste that way, is too dull and lumpish ever to write with any prospect of being read. It is a fatal mistake, and simple superstition to discourage youth from poetry, and endeavour to prejudice them against it; if they are of a poetical genius, there is no restraining them: Ovid, you know, was deaf to his father's frequent admonitions. But if they are not quite smitten and be witched with love of verse, they should be trained to it, to make them masters of every kind of poetry, that by learning to imitate the originals they may arrive at a right conception and a true taste of their authors: and being able to write in verse upon occasion, I can assure you, is no disadvantage to prose for without relishing the one, a man must never pretend to any taste for the other.

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Taste is a metaphor, borrowed from the palate by which we approve or dislike what we eat and drink from the agreeableness or disagreeableness of the relish in our mouth. Nature directs us in the common use, and every body can tell sweet from bitter, what is sharp, or sour, or vapid, or nauseous; but it requires senses more refined and exercised to discover every taste that is more perfect in its kind; every palate is not to judge of that, and yet drinking is more used than reading. All that I pretend to know of the matter is, that wine should be, like a style, clear, deep, bright, and strong, sincere and pure, sound and dry (as our advertisements do well express it), which last is a commendable terin, that contains the juice of the richest spirits, and only keeps out all cold and dampness.

It is common to commend a man for an ear to music, and a taste for painting; which are nothing but a just discernment of what is excellent and most perfect in them. The first depends entirely on the ear; a man can never expect to be a master that has not an ear tuned and set to music; and you can no more sing an ode without an ear than without a genius you can write one. Painting, we should think, requires some understanding in the art, and exact knowledge of the best masters' manner, to be a judge of it; but this faculty, like the

rest, is founded in nature: knowledge in the art, and frequent conversation with the best originals, will certainly perfect a man's judg ment; but if there is not a natural sagacity and aptness, experience will be of no great service. A good taste is an argument of a great soul, as well as a lively wit. It is the infirmity of poor spirits to be taken with every appearance, and dazzled by everything that sparkles: but to pass by what the generality of the world admires, and to be detained with nothing but what is most perfect and excellent in its kind, speaks a superior genius, and a true discernment. A Dissertation on Reading the Classics.

GEORGE BERKELEY, D.D.,

born in the county of Kilkenny, Ireland, 1684, in 1709 published An Essay towards a New Theory of Vision, Dublin, 8vo (and a Vindication of this Theory, in 1733), in 1710 The Principles of Human Knowledge, Dublin, 8vo, in 1713 Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philolonous; made Dean of Derry, 1724; in 1728 emigrated to America to carry out his "scheme for converting the savage Americans to Christianity by a college to be erected in the Summer Islands, otherwise called the Isles of Bermudas" (Berkeley), and at Newport, Rhode Island, awaited for a long time in vain the receipt of a parliamentary grant to enable him to complete his project; in 1732 published Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher, in seven Dialogues, containing an Apology for the Christian Religion against Free-Thinkers, Lond., 2 vols. 8vo; in 1734 was made Bishop of Cloyne, and refused to exchange his see for that of Clogher, of double its value; in 1747 published Siris, a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries respecting the Virtues of Tar Water in the Plague, Lond., 8vo, and in 1752 Farther Thoughts on Tar Water, Lond., 8vo, and died in the next year. In 1776 was published An Account of his Life, with Notes, containing Strictures upon his Works, &vo: in 1784 his Whole Works, with an Account of his Life, and several of his Letters to Thomas Prior, Esq., Dean Gervais, and Mr. Pope, etc., by T. Prior, Esq., 2 vols. 4to, appeared. There have been two recent edi tions of his Works, one in 3 vols. 8vo, and another by Rev. G. N. Wright, in 2 vols 8vo, 1843. Mr. W. gives a translation of the Latin Essays (Arithmetica, Miscellanea, Mathematica, and De Motu) and Notes on the Introduction to Human Knowledge. Among his works is The Querist containing several Queries proposed to the Consideration of the

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ous concert of vocal and instrumental music. Behold him amazed, ravished, transported; and you have some distant representation, some faint and glimmering idea of the ecstatic state of the soul in that article in which she emerges from this sepulchre of flesh into life and immortality.

The Guardian, No. 27, Saturday, April 11,

1713.

ON PLEASURES, NATURAL AND FANTASTICAL. It is of great use to consider the pleasures which constitute human happiness, as they are distinguished into natural and fantastical. Natural pleasures I call those which, not depending on the fashion and caprice of any particular age or nation, are suited to human nature in general, and were intended by Providence as rewards for the using our faculties agreeably to the ends for which they were given us. Fantastical pleasures are those which having no natural fitness to delight our minds, presuppose some particular whim or taste accidentally prevailing in a set of people, to which it is owing that they please.

Now I take it that the tranquillity and cheerfulness with which I have passed my life, are the effect of having, ever since I came to years of discretion, continued my inclinations to the former sort of pleas

ures. .

The various objects that compose the world were by nature formed to delight our senses, and as it is this alone that makes them desirable to an uncorrupted taste, a man may be said naturally to possess them when he possesseth those enjoyments which they are fitted by nature to yield.

Hence it is usual with me to consider myself as having a natural property in every object that administers pleasure to me. When I am in the country, all the fine seats near the place of my residence, and to which I have access, I regard as mine. The same I think of the groves and fields where I walk, and muse on the folly of the civil landlord in London, who has the fantastical pleasure of draining dry rent into his coffers, but is a stranger to fresh air and rural enjoyments. By these principles I am possessed of half a dozen of the finest seats in England, which in the eye of the law belong to certain of my acquaintance, who being men of business choose to live near the court. . . .

When I walk the streets I use the foregoing natural maxim (viz., That he is the true possessor of a thing who enjoys it, and not he that owns it without the enjoyment of it), to convince myself that I have a property in the gay part of all the gilt chariots

that I meet, which I regard as amusements designed to delight my eyes, and the imagination of those kind people who sit in them gayly attired only to please me. I have a real, and they only an imaginary, pleasure from their exterior embellishments. Upon the same principle, I have discovered that I am the natural proprietor of all the diamond necklaces, the crosses, stars, brocades, and embroidered clothes, which I see at a play or birth-night, as giving more natural delight to the spectator than to those that wear them. And I look on the beaux and ladies as so many paroquets in an aviary, o tulips in a garden, designed purely for my diversion. A gallery of pictures, a cabinet, or library, that I have free access to, I think my own. In a word, all that I desire is the use of things, let who will have the keeping of them. By which maxim I am grown one of the richest men in Great Britain; with this difference, that I am not a prey to my own cares, or the envy of others.

Fai

Every day, numberless innocent and natural gratifications occur to me, while I behold my fellow creatures labouring in a toilsome and absurd pursuit of trifles: one, that he may be called by a particular appellation; another, that he may wear a particular ornament, which I regard as a bit of riband that has an agreeable effect on my sight, but is so far from supplying the place of merit where it is not, that it serves only to make the want of it more conspicuous. weather is the joy of my soul: about noon I behold a blue sky with rapture, and receive great consolation from the rosy dashes of light which adorn the clouds of the morning and evening. When I am lost among green trees, I do not envy a great man with a great crowd at his levee. And I often lay aside thoughts of going to an opera, that I may enjoy the silent pleasure of walking by moonlight, or viewing the stars sparkle in their azure ground; which I look upon as part of my possessions, not without a secret indignation at the tastelessness of mortal men, who, in their race through life, overlook the real enjoyment of it.

But the pleasure which naturally affects a human mind with the most lively and transporting touches, I take to be the sense that we act in the eye of infinite Wisdom, Power, and Goodness, that will crown our virtuous endeavours here, with a happiness hereafter, large as our desires, and lasting as our immortal souls. This is a perpetual spring of gladness in the mind. This les sens our calamities and doubles our joys. Without this the highest state of life is insipid, and with it the lowest is a paradise.

The Guardian, No. 49, Thursday, May 7,

1713.

153

NEVOLENCE.

If we consider the whole scope of the creation that lies within our view, the moral and intellectual, as well as the natural and corporeal, we shall perceive throughout a certain correspondence of the parts, a similitude of operation, and unity of design, which plainly demonstrate the universe to be the work of one infinitely good and wise Being; and that the system of thinking beings is actuated by laws derived from the same divine power which ordained those by which the corporeal system is upheld. Now if we carry our thoughts from the corporeal to the moral world, we may observe in the spirits or minds of men a like principle of attraction, whereby they are drawn together in communities, clubs, families, friendships, and all the various species of society. As in bodies where the quantity is the same the attraction is strongest between those which are placed nearest to each other, so it is likewise in the mind of men, cæteris paribus, between those which are most nearly related.

A man who has no family is more strongly attracted towards his friends and neighbours; and if absent from these, he naturally falls into an acquaintance with those of his own city or country, who chance to be in the same place. Two Englishmen meeting at Rome or Constantinople soon run into a familiarity. And in China or Japan, Europeans would think their being so a good reason for their uniting in particular converse. Farther, in case we suppose ourselves translated into Jupiter or Saturn, and there to meet a Chinese or other more distant native of our own planet, we should look on him as a near relation, and readily commence a friendship with him. These are natural reflections, and such as may convince us that we are linked by an imperceptible chain to every individual of the human race. . . .

The mutual gravitation of bodies cannot be explained any other way than by resolving it into the immediate operation of God, who never ceases to dispose and actuate his creatures in a manner suitable to their respective beings. So neither can that reciprocal attraction in the minds of men be accounted for by any other cause. It is not the result of education, law, or fashion; but is a principle originally ingrafted in the very first formation of the soul by the Author of

our nature.

And as the attractive power in bodies is the most universal principle which produceth innumerable effects, and is a key to explain the various phenomena of nature, so the corresponding social appetite in human souls is

This it is that inclines each individual to an intercourse with his species, and models every one to that behaviour which best suits with the common well-being. Hence that sympathy in our nature, whereby we feel the pains and joys of our fellow-creatures. Hence that prevalent love in parents towards their children, which is neither founded on the merit of the object, nor yet on selfinterest. It is this that makes us inquisitive concerning the affairs of distant nations, which can have no influence on our own. It is this that extends our care to future generations, and excites us to acts of beneficence towards those who are not yet in being, and consequently from whom we can expect no recompense. In a word, hence arises that diffusive sense of humanity so unaccountable to the selfish man who is untouched with it, and is indeed a sort of monster, or anomalous production.

These thoughts do naturally suggest the following particulars: first, that as social inclinations are absolutely necessary to the well-being of the world, it is the duty and interest of each individual to cherish and improve them to the benefit of mankind: the duty, because it is agreeable to the intention of the Author of our being, who aims at the common good of his creatures, and, as an indication of his will, hath implanted the seeds of mutual benevolence in our souls; the interest, because the good of the whole is inseparable from that of the parts: in promoting, therefore, the common good, every one doth at the same time promote his own private interest. Another observation I shall draw from the premises is, that it makes a signal proof of the divinity of the Christian religion that the main duty which it inculcates above all others is Charity. Different maxims and precepts have distinguished the different sects of philosophy and religion: our Lord's peculiar precept is, "Love thy neighbour as thyself. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

The Guardian, No. 126, August 5, 1713.

EUSTACE BUDGELL,

born 1685, best known by his intimacy with Addison, his quarrel with Pope, and his contributions to The Spectator (37 or 38 papers, marked X, and a letter), The Guardian (Nos. 25, 31), and The Craftsman, also published The Characters of Theophrastus, translated from the Greek, Lond., 1713, 8vo (commended by Addison), Memoirs of the illustrious Family of the Boyles, 3d edit.,