and they who profess to admire Epictetus, unless they pursue that severely virtuous conduct which he every where proscribes will find themselves treated by him with the utmost degree of scorn and contempt. An immoral character is, indeed, more or less, the outcast of all sects of philosophy; and Seneca quotes even Epicurus to prove the universal obligation of a virtuous life. Of this great truth God never left himself without witness. Persons of distinguished | talents and opportunities seem to have been raised, from time to time, by Providence, to check the torrent of corruption, and to preserve the sense of moral obligations on the minds of the multitude, to whom the various occupations of life left but little leisure to form deductions of their own. But then they wanted a proper commission to enforce their precepts; they intermixed with them, through false reasoning, many gross mistakes; and their unavoidable ignorance, in several important points, entangled them with doubts which easily degenerated into pernicious errors.

If there are others, who reject Christianity from motives of dislike to its peculiar doctrines, they will scarcely fail of entertaining more favourable impressions of it, if they can be prevailed on, with impartiality, to compare the Holy Scriptures, from whence alone the Christian religion is to be learned, with the stoic writings; and then fairly to consider whether there is anything to be met with in the discoveries of our blessed Saviour, in the writings of his apostles, or even in the obscurest parts of the prophetic books, by which, equitably interpreted, either their senses or their reason are contradicted, as they are by the paradoxes of these philosophers; and if not, whether notices from above of things in which, though we comprehend them but imperfectly, we are possibly much more interested than at present we discern, ought not to be received with implicit veneration; as useful exercises and trials of that duty which finite understandings owe to infinite wisdom.

HORACE WALPOLE,

born 1717, became fourth Earl of Orford 1791, and died 1797. He was the author of des Walpolianæ, Lond., 1747, 4to; Fugitive Pieces in Prose and Verse, Strawberry Hill, 1758, 8vo; Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England, Strawberry Hill, 1758, 2 vols. sm. 8vo, by T. Park, Lond., 1806, 5 vols. 8vo; Anecdotes of Painting in England, from the MSS. of George Virtue, Strawberry Hill, 1762-71, '63,

5 vols. 4to, by R. N. Wornum, Esq., Lond., 1839, etc., 3 vols. 8vo; The Castle of Otranto, Lond., 1765. 8vo; The Mysterious Mother, a Tragedy, Strawberry Hill, 1768, 8vo; Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard the Third, Lond., 1768, 4to; Memoirs of the Last Ten Years, 1751-1760, of the Reign of King George II., Lond., 1822, 2 vols. royal 4to; Memoirs of the Reign of King George III., Lond., 1845, 4 vols. 8vo; Journal of the Reign of King George the Third, Lond., 1859, 2 vols. demy 8vo; and other works (see Bohn's Lowndes, 28182823). A collective edition of his Letters. by Peter Cunningham, was published, Lond., Bentley, 1857-59, 9 vols. 8vo, Bohn, 1861, 9 vols. demy 8vo. A collective edition of his Works, edited by Robert Berry (and Agnes and Mary Berry), was published, Lond., 1795, 5 vols. 4to.

46

Walpole's Letters' are generally considered as his best performances, and, we think, with reason. His faults are far less offensive to us in his cor

respondence than in his books. His wild, absurd, and ever-changing opinions about men and things scoffing, depreciating disposition does not show are easily pardoned in familiar letters. His bitter, itself in so unmitigated a manner as in his Memoirs. A writer of letters must be civil and friendly to his correspondent, at least, if to no other person."-LORD MACAULAY: Edin. Rev., lviii. 240, and in his Essays.

THE SCOTTISH REBELLION.

The rebels are come into England: for two days we believed them near Lancaster, but the ministry must own that they don't know if they have passed Carlisle. Some think that they will besiege that town, which has an old wall, and all the militia in it of Cumberland and Westmoreland; but as they can pass by it, I don't see why they should take it, for they are not strong enough to leave garrisons. Several desert them as they advance south; and altogether, good men and bad, nobody believes them ten thousand. By their marching westward to avoid Wade, it is evident that they are not strong enough to fight him.

They may yet retire back into their mountains, but if once they get to Lancaster their retreat is cut off; for Wade will not stir from Newcastle till he has embarked them deep into England, and then he will be behind them. He has sent General Handasyde from Berwick with two regiments to take possession of Edinburgh. The rebels are certainly in a very desperate situation: they dared not meet Wade; and if they had waited for him their troops would have deserted. Unless they meet with great risings in their favour in Lancashire, I don't see what they can hope, except from a continuation of our neglect. That, indeed, has nobly exerted

itself for them. They were suffered to march the whole length of Scotland, and take possession of the capital, without a man appearing against them. Then two thousand sailed to them, to run from them. Till the flight of Cope's army, Wade was not sent. Two roads still lay into England, and till they had chosen that which Wade had not taken, no army was thought of being sent to secure the other. Now Ligonier, with seven old regiments, and six of the new, is ordered to Lancashire; before this first division of the army could get to Coventry, they are forced to order it to halt, for fear the enemy should be up with it before it was all assembled. It is uncertain if the rebels will march to the north of Wales, to Bristol, or towards London. If to the latter, Ligonier must fight them; if to either of the other, which I hope, the two armies may join and drive them into a corner, where they must all perish. They cannot subsist in Wales, but by being supplied by the Papists in Ireland. The best is, that we are in no fear from France; there is no preparation for invasions in any of their ports. Lord Clantary, a Scotchman [Irishman] of great parts, but mad and drunken, and whose family forfeited £90,000 a year for King James, is made vice-admiral at Brest. The Duke of Bedford goes in his little round person with his regiment; he now takes to the land, and says he is tired of being a penand-ink-man. Lord Gower insisted, too, upon going with his regiment, but is laid up with the gout.

With the rebels in England you may imagine we have no private news, nor think of foreign. From this account you may judge that our case is far from desperate, though disagreeable. The prince [Ferdinand of Wales], while the princess lies-in, has taken to give dinners, to which he asks two of the ladies of the bed-chamber, two of the maids of honour, &c., by turns, and five or six others.

To Sir Horace Mann, Nov. 15, 1745.

LONDON EARTHQUAKES, ETC. "Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent That they have lost their name."-DRYDEN. My text is not literally true; but as far as earthquakes go towards lowering the price of wonderful commodities, to be sure we are overstocked. We have had a second, much more violent than the first; and you must not be surprised if, by next post, you hear of a burning mountain sprung up in Smithfield. In the night between Wednesday and Thursday last (exactly a month since the first shock), the earth had a shivering fit between one and two, but so slight

201

that, if no more had followed, I don't believe it would have been noticed. I had been awake, and had scarce dozed again— on a sudden I felt my bolster lift up my head: I thought somebody was getting from under my bed, but soon found it was a strong earthquake that lasted near half a minute, with a violent vibration and great roaring. I rang my bell; my servant came in, frightened out of his senses: in an instant we heard all the windows in the neighbourhood flung up. I got up and found people running into the streets, but saw no mischief done: there has been some: two old houses flung down, several chimneys, and much china-ware. The bells rung in several houses. Admiral Knowles, who has lived long in Jamaica, and felt seven there, says this was more violent than any of them: Francesco prefers it to the dreadful one at Leghorn. The wise say, that if we have not rain soon, we shall certainly have more. Several people are going out of town, for it has nowhere reached above ten miles from London.... A parson who came into White's the morning of earthquake the first, and heard bets laid on whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up of powder-mills, went away exceedingly scandalized, and said, “I protest they are such an impious set of people, that I believe if the last trumpet was to sound they would bet puppet-show against Judgment." If we get any nearer still to the torrid zone, I shall pique myself on sending you a present of cedrati and orangeflower water. I am already planning a terreno for Strawberry Hill. ... I will jump to another topic; I find all this letter will be detached scraps; I can't at all contrive to hide the seams. But I don't care. I began my letter merely to tell you of the earthquake, and I don't pique myself upon doing any more than telling you what you would be glad to have told you. I told you, too, how pleased I was with the triumphs of another old beauty, our friend the princess [Craon]. Do you know, I have found a history that has great resemblance to hers; that is, that will be very like hers, if hers is but like it. I will tell it you in as few words as I can. Madame la Marechale de l'Hôpital [Mary Mignot] was the daughter of a sempstress; a young gentleman fell in love with her, and was going to be married to her, but the match was broken off. An old fermier-general, who had retired into the province where this happened, hearing the story, had a curiosity to see the victim; he liked her, married her, died, and left her enough not to care for her inconstant. She came to Paris, where the Marechal de l'Hôpital married her for her riches. After the Marechal's death, Casimir, the abdicated king of

pression which our thoughts most readily assume. Hence different countries have been noted for peculiarities of Style suited to their different temper and genius. The eastern nations animated their style with the most strong and hyperbolical figures. The Athenians, a polished and acute people, formed a Style accurate, clear, and neat. The Asiatics, gay, and loose in their manners, affected a Style florid and diffuse. The like sort of characteristical differences are commonly remarked in the Style of the French, the English, and the Spaniards. In giving the general characters of Style it is usual to talk of a nervous, a feeble, or a spirited Style; which are plainly the characters of a writer's manner of thinking, as well as of expressing himself: so difficult it is to separate these two things from one another. Of the general characters of Style I am afterwards to discourse, but it will be necessary to begin with examining the more simple qualities of it; from the assemblage of which its more complex denominations, in a great measure, result. All the qualities of a good Style may be ranged under two heads, Perspicuity and Ornament. For all that can possibly be required of Language is, to convey our ideas clearly to the minds of others, and at the same time in such address as, by pleasing and interesting them, shall most effectually strengthen the impressions which we seek to make. When both these ends are answered, we certainly accomplish every purpose for which we use Writing and Discourse.

Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres.

ON PURITY AND PROPRIETY.

Purity and Propriety of Language are often used indiscriminately for each other; and, indeed, they are very nearly allied. A distinction, however, obtains between them. Purity is the use of such words, and such constructions, as belong to the idiom of the Language which we speak, in opposition to words and phrases that are imported from other Languages, or that are obsolete or new coined or used without proper authority. Propriety is the selection of such words in the Language as the best and most established usage has appropriated to those ideas which we intend to express by them. It implies the correct and happy application of them, according to that usage, in opposition to vulgarisms, or low expressions; and to words and phrases which would be less significant of the ideas that we mean to convey. Style may be pure, that is, it may all be strictly English, without Scotticisms or Gallicisms, or ungrammatical, irregular expressions of any kind, and may, nevertheless, be defi

203

cient in propriety. The words may be illchosen; not adapted to the subject, nor fully expressive of the author's sense. He has taken all his words and phrases from the general mass of English language; but he has made his selection among these words unhappily. Whereas Style cannot be proper without being also pure; and where both Purity and Propriety meet, besides making Style perspicuous, they also render it graceful. There is no standard, either of Purity or of Propriety, but the practice of the best writers and speakers in the country.

When I mentioned obsolete or new-coined words as incongruous with Purity of Style, it will be easily understood that some exceptions are to be made. On certain occasions they may have grace. Poetry admits of greater latitude than prose, with respect to coining or, at least, new-compounding words; yet, even here, this liberty should be used with a sparing hand. In prose, such innovations are more hazardous, and have a worse effect. They are apt to give Style an affected and conceited air; and should never be ventured upon except by such whose established reputation gives them some degree of dictatorial power over Language. The introduction of foreign and learned words, unless where necessity requires them, should always be avoided. Barren Languages may need such assistances; but ours is not one of these. Dean Swift, one of our most correct writers, valued himself much on using no words but such as were of native growth: and his Language may, indeed, be considered as a standard of the strictest Purity and Propriety in the choice of words. At present, we seem to be departing from this standard. A multitude of Latin words have, of late. been poured in upon us. On some occasions, they give an appearance of elevation and dignity to Style. But often, also, they render it stiff and forced: and, in general, a plain native Style, as it is more intelligible to all readers, so, by a proper management of words, it may be made equally strong and expressive with this latinized English.

Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres.

ELIZABETH MONTAGU,

born 1720, was married in 1742 to Edward Montagu, cousin of Edward Wortley Montagu, the husband of Lady Mary. Left a widow of fortune in 1775, she became famous for her hospitalities to the leaders of fashion and letters. Died 1800.

"Mrs. Montagu had built a superb new house [Portman Square, London], which was magnifi.

cently fitted up, and appeared to be rather appropriate for princes, nobles, and courtiers than for poets, philosophers, and blue-stocking votaries." -MADAME D'ARBLAY: Diary.

"These were the members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and exchanged repartees under the rich peacockhangings of Mrs. Montagu." She was the author of Three Dialogues of the Dead, in the 4th edition of Lord Lyttelton's New Dialogues of the Dead, Lond., 1765, 8vo; An Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespear, etc., 1769, 8vo. See The Letters of Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu, Lond., 1809-13, 4 vols. 8vo.

ON VANITY.

ALLERTHORPE, Nov. 19, 1742.

MADAM,-What prophets are my fears! they whispered to me your grace was not well, and I find their suggestions were true. Hard state of things, that one may believe one's fears, but cannot rely upon one's hopes! I imagined concern would have an ill effect on your constitution: I know you have many pledges in the hands of fate, and I feared for you, and every thing that was near and dear to you. I am sensible your regard and tenderness for Lady Oxford will make you suffer extremely when you see her ill: she has therefore a double portion of my good wishes, on her own and your grace's account. When sensibility of heart and head makes you feel all the outrages that fortune and folly offer, why do you not envy the thoughtless giggle and unmeaning smile? "In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble Joy." Wisdom's cup is often dashed with sorrow, but the nepenthe of stupidity is the only medicine of life: fools neither are troubled with fear nor doubt. What did the wisdom of the wisest man teach him? Verily, that all was vanity and vexation of spirit! A painful lesson fools will never learn, for they are of all vanities most vain. And there is not so sweet a companion as that same vanity: when we go into the world it leads us by the hand; if we retire from it, it follows us; it meets us at court, and finds us in the country; commends the hero that gains the world, and the philosopher that forsakes it; praises the luxury of the prodigal, and the prudence of the penurious; feasts with the voluptuous, fasts with the abstemious, sits on the pen of the author, and visits the paper of the critic; reads dedications, and writes them makes court to superiors, receives homage of inferiors: in short, it is useful, it is agreeable, and the very thing needful to happiness. Had Solomon felt some inward vanity, sweet sounds had been ever in his ears without the voices of men-singers, or women-singers: he had not then said of

:

laughter, What is it? and of mirth, What doeth it? Vanity and a good set of teeth would have taught him the ends and purposes of laughing, that fame may be acquired by it, where, like the proposal for the grinning wager,

"The frightfulest grinner Is the winner."

Did not we think Lady C― would get nothing by that broad grin but the toothache? But vanity, profitable vanity, was her better counsellor; and as she always imagined the heart of a lover was caught between her teeth, I cannot say his delay is an argument of her charms, or his gallantry, but she has him secure by an old proverb, that what is bred in the bone will never out of the flesh, and no doubt but this love was bred in the bone, even in the jaw-bone. No wonder if tame weak man is subdued by that weapon with which Samson killed the mighty To the Duchess of Portland.

lion.

RICHARD HURD, D.D.,

born 1720, Preacher of Lincoln's Inn, 1765, Archdeacon of Gloucester, 1767, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, 1775, and of Worcester, 1781, declined the Archbishopric of Canterbury, 1783, died 1808. He published: Commentary on Horace's Ars Poetica, 1749, 4th edit., 1763, 3 vols. 8vo; Commentary on Horace's Epistola ad Augustum, etc., 1751, new edit., Lond., 1776, 3 vols. cr. 8vo; Dialogues on Sincerity, Retirement, etc., 1759, 8vo; with his Letters on Chivalry and Romance (1762, 8vo), and Dialogues on Foreign Travel (1764, 8vo), under the title of Dialogues, Moral and Political, 1765, 3 vols. 8vo, 3d edit., 1771, 3 vols. sm. 8vo; again, 1788, 3 vols. 8vo; Select Works of Cowley, 1769, 2 vols. 8vo; An Introduction to the Study of the Prophecies, 1772, 8vo, 1778, 2 vols. 8vo; Sermons Preached at Lincoln's Inn, 1776-1780, 3 vols. 8vo, 1785, 3 vols. 8vo; Sermons Preached before the Lords, 1777, 4to; Works of Bishop Warburton, 1788, 7 vols. 4to, new edit., 1811, 12 vols. 8vo, and Life of Warburton, 1794, 4to; A idison's Works, 1810, 6 vols. 8vo.

"Hurd has, perhaps, the merit of being the first who, in this country, aimed at philosophical criticism: he had great ingenuity, a good deal of reading, and a felicity in applying it; but he did not feel very deeply, was somewhat of a coxcomb, and having always before his eyes a model neither good in itself, nor made for him to emulate, he assumes a dogmatic arrogance, which, as it always offends the reader, so for the most part stands in the way of the author's own search for truth."HALLAM: Lit. Hist. of Europe, 4th ed., iii. 475, n.