LETTER I. Mr. PRESTON to Miſs NANCY BLISSET.

I WAS juſt now at your Mama's, who was gone out; ſo I don't know how you got to W——, or whether ſhe has heard from you^*.

[2]I ſend you here encloſed a Craftſ⯑man^*. All the political Papers of this Day are but indifferent; however, I would not be worſe than my Promiſe; beſides, the Articles of News may divert you.

Pray let me know if you got ſafe to the Country, and if you had any Adven⯑tures by the Way^†, worth noticing. Be ſure to write to me. Give my hum⯑ble [3] Service to your Aunt. How does ſhe do?

I allow you to write the firſt Letter you ſend me in Engliſh, if you pleaſe. I ſhall write you in French the next Time, and ſend you an Exerciſe.

LETTER II.

J'AY receu votre Lettre par le Poſte d'Hier, mais c'eſt ſans Datte. Je vais, toute à l'heure en Campaigne, où je [4] reſterai juſqu'à Mardi. A mon Retour, je vous marquerai les petits Defauts dans les Traductions que vous avez fait. En general elles ſont fort bonnes, et je les ay lû avec beaucoup de Plaiſir^*.

Faites mes Compliments à Madame S——. J'ay donné votre Lettre à vo⯑tre Mere.

LETTER III.

I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 14th current. I have not yet got Time to look into the Tranſlation, to ſee if it is done right.

Pray tranſlate the encloſed Paſſage^*; not at once, but take two or three dif⯑ferent Times to do it in, and ſtudy it well, for the French is very nice; which I ſhall ſend as ſoon as you have finiſhed the Tranſlation.

Why do you begin Words with a ſmall, that ought to be begun with a [6] great Letter? Pray learn to write in a faſhionable Way.

Give my hearty Service to your Aunt. We have no News.

LETTER IV.

I Have ſent you the Original of your two Tranſlations. There are Dif⯑ferences between them, that I don't think much of; but pray obſerve the Nicety [7] of the French in uſing the Pronouns du, de-la, de, en, and ſo forth. Obſerve too that you uſe the ſingular for the plural, and ſometimes the plural for the ſingu⯑lar. You will fall eternally into this Error, unleſs you will fix the Conjuga⯑tions of Verbs in your Head. Pray ex⯑amine the Tranſlation by the Original, Word by Word, and ſtudy the Reaſons of their Difference; by this Means, you ſhall become more a Miſtreſs of the French in ſix Weeks, than you have been in all all your Time hitherto. The Leiſure the Country affords, and the little Avocation, you have there, afford an excellent Op⯑portunity for this.

[8]Why do you ſay I ſet you long Taſks? I do not. I bid you take Time, and don't fatigue yourſelf. Perform them à deux, ou trois repriſes, ou a combien vous le voulez; mais ayez garde de les faire tous jours ſoigneuſement.

I deſign to tranſlate, for your Uſe, the Hiſtory of Nonchalante, Babellarde, and Finette; not only for the ſake of the French, but for your Conduct in Life. They deſerve to be got by heart, and printed deep in your Memory; though they ſeem to be written only for young Children^*, yet they contain a moſt excel⯑lent [9] Moral. When you are going, to do or ſay ſomething, that you are in doubt if it ought to be ſaid or done, conſider whether it will be like Nonchalante, or Babellarde, or Finette. But I am afraid that you will begin to think I am a Ba⯑bellarde; ſo I conclude, in aſſuring you, that few People love you better, than, dear Nancy,

P. S. I don't wonder at the great Dif⯑ference between your Tranſlation, and the Original in Telemaque, becauſe the Engliſh is ſo different from the Ori⯑ginal; but you'll obſerve the real Faults. I herewith ſend another Teſt of your Abilities.

LETTER V.

I Received yours of the 24th, which is worſe Writing than any of your for⯑mer Letters. You don't point out the Place in Telemaque, from which you took the ſecond Tranſlation in yours; but I can ſcarcely read it. You have ſo ſtrong an Inclination to write the initial Letters of your Name ſmall, that you do it al⯑ways to your Mama, and to me ſome⯑times; namely, in your laſt.

I obſerve, with Pleaſure, a good deal of the Genius, and true Turn of the French Language, in your Letters and Tranſlations; but you neglect the moſt common Things, namely, the Spelling, [11] the Conſtruction, and Regimes des Verbes. Pray, dear Nancy, correct that; and learn to diſpoſe your Letter in a handſome Manner.

You tranſlate too much at a Time. Do a little at once, and do it well. Take more Care of your Writing, and learn to point.

I go to the Country this Afternoon, and return on Monday, when I expect to find one from you.

Vous etes trop empreſſée, ma Fille, d'ecrire beaucoup à la fois. Ecrivez moins, et avec plus de Soin. Faites mes Compliments à Madame votre Tante; et ſoyez perſuadé que

P. S. Je vous envoyerai une Critique ſur votre derniere Lettre, dans la mienne de Lundi. Encore je ſuis à vous.

LETTER VI.

I Have been out of Town ſince Satur⯑day. At my Return, I got your Let⯑ter, but it is neither dated nor pointed. I am glad to find the Spirit of the French Language in your Letters and Tranſla⯑tions; and they grow better every Time you write; but, as I told you before, you neglect the Modes, Tenſes, Num⯑bers, Conſtruction, and Regimen, which are, as it were, the very Rudiments of the Language. Then you write with ſo heavy a Hand, that one would think [13] you rather uſed a Graving-iron, than a Pen.

I have ſent you, on the other Side of this Sheet, your Tranſlation of the laſt Taſk I ſet you, with the Original op⯑poſite to it. I would have you, my dear, conſider it, Word by Word, not only for the Grammar-Part, but like⯑wiſe to learn the true Idiom of the French, and the Difference of that from the Engliſh. I ſhall only trouble you with one Example. We ſay, "He put his Affairs in good Order." The French ſay, "He put a good Order to his Af⯑fairs." You'll ſee, in your Tranſla⯑tion, you have followed the Engliſh Idiom^*.

[14]I ſhall continue this Subject in my next. In the mean time, I aſſure you that your Letters give me very great Pleaſure.

P. S. I ſend you another Taſk, which I have tranſlated nearer to the French Idiom than the former, that it may be the eaſier run into French, when you un⯑dertake it.

Faites mes Compliments a Madame, votre Tante.

Encore, une ſois, adieu!

LETTER VII.

MY laſt was by Thurſday's Poſt. I received yours Yeſterday, in which you excuſe the Faults of your Tranſ⯑lations, by pleading, that they are not committed through Careleſſneſs; but ſurely you don't look into your Grammar, elſe you would ſpell more correctly, and obſerve the Differences of the Numbers and Tenſes better.

Your Letters and Tranſlations give me great Pleaſure, there is ſomething ſo much of the French Turn in them.

They are only the moſt common Things which you overſee. You ſpell [16] Engliſh as well as a Man of Learning does, and much better than the moſt Part of your Sex. I would have you as per⯑fect at ſpelling French. I don't expect that your Tranſlations ſhould be equal to the Original. How can that be, when the Tranſlation that I ſend you, and which you are to render again into the Original, is ſo widely different from the Original itſelf? But then I would have you ob⯑ſerve the Difference nicely, as it would make a laſting Impreſſion on your Mind. I would have you make ſome Paper up in different Folds; then write your own Phraſe on one Side, and the French Ori⯑ginal on the other, if the Difference is worth noticing; for inſtance, in this Manner:

[17]You ſay, Le ſoin de ſa fa⯑mille lui chagrina le plus.

The Original, Ce que l'inquietoi [...] le plus, c'etoit le ſoin de ſa famille.

Yours is not bad French, but then the other is better. If you'll take this Me⯑thod, it will infix the moſt proper and elegant Expreſſion deep in your Mind.

I ſhall detain you no longer, having many Letters to write. I have encloſed another Paper than I uſed to ſend you, though it bears the ſame Name, becauſe it is more diverting than the former. I ſhall ſet you no Taſk to-day, for I would not chuſe to oppreſs you. I am juſt going to your Mama's, that, if ſhe thinks fit, ſhe may add a Poſtſcript.

[18]The Weather is not more uncertain, than the Rumours we have of Peace and War.

P. S. You ſhould add, now and then, a Poſtſcript to your Mother; for you ſhould not be guilty of ſo much as the Appearance of Neglect to her.

LETTER VIII.

I Received yours of the 4th inſtant. I am charmed with the Tranſlation. It is the beſt you have done, and much bet⯑ter than I expected. It is impoſſible [19] that it can be ſo good French, as that of ſo great a Maſter as Monſ. Perrault; but, by ſetting them in Oppoſition, you ſee the Difference; and if you will mind it, and keep the Copies, that you may have re⯑courſe to them on occaſion, I do not know a better Way to attain to the Purity of the French Language.

In your Letter you ſay, "La Conſide⯑ration de cela que vous faire pardonner, &c." inſtead of "que vous fait pardon⯑ner," and ſo on, in many Inſtances, uſing the Infinitive for the Imperfect of the Indicative Mood. "Ma Tante vous faire les Compliments," for vous fait." Theſe Miſtakes are ſo obvious, that nothing but Careleſſneſs ^* can make you fall into [20] them. Vous ne devez pas vous pleindre de peu de Capacité, parceque vous l'avez belle et bonne; et vous en etes bien rede⯑vable à Dieu.

You ſhould carefully remark the prin⯑cipal Differences between the French and Engliſh Manner of Speech. This is what we call different Dialects. It is im⯑poſſible to enumerate them, they are ſo many; but the greateſt ariſe out of theſe Particles ou, en, du, des, de, &c. When we would ſay, A thing is generally re⯑ported, we uſe this indefinite Expreſſion, "It is ſaid," or. "They ſay." The [21] French ſay, "On dit." We say "At that time." They ſay, "Du temps." We ſay, "In Europe." They ſay, "Of Europe." We ſay, "I have got a Fever." They ſay, "A Fever has taken me." Then the Uſe of à or de before the Infini⯑tive is very hard to be diſtinguiſhed with⯑out great Care; as you will ſee by com⯑paring the laſt Tranſlation with the Ori⯑ginal. In like Manner, the Difference is difficult between en and dans; when the Adverb ne is to be uſed, and when not. We ſay, "He is richer than you think, &c." The French ſay, "He is richer than you don't think." Then we have an auxiliary Verb, which they want, and which adds great Force and Energy to our Expreſſion on ſome Occaſions; and that is the Verb do. When we aver a [22] Thing with Vehemence, we ſay, "I do ſay ſo—I do think ſo." This is much ſtronger than to utter ſimply, "I ſay ſo—I think ſo." You may obſerve the Force of this auxiliary do in many other Expreſ⯑ſions.

P. S. I ſhall defer ſending you your laſt Tranſlation, and Perrault's Original, till Thurſday.

LETTER IX.

ON the other Side you have your Tranſlation, and on the next, the Original. Pray mark the Difference; [23] for though yours is much better than I expected, yet you'll find in the other a ſhorter Way of Expreſſion. My Tranſ⯑ [...]ation, which was impoſſible to be made [...]iterally from the French, has occaſioned a greater Difference between yours and the original French, than would have been otherwiſe. Beſides, though you ſometimes uſe Words different from the Author, that is nothing; your Words have the ſame Meaning.

You'll obſerve, you ſometimes miſtake [...]he Gender. I ſhall only notice two In⯑ [...]tances. You ſay, "Rien de ſi indolente [...]u'etoit Nonchalante." The Author ſays, Rien de fi indolent; your Miſtake is, you [...]hink indolent agrees with Nonchalante, [...]nd therefore you put it in the Feminine [24] Gender; but it agrees with rien and ſo ſhould have been in the Maſculine.

The next thing is, you ſay, "Le même Longeur du Temps." This is a ſtiff Ex⯑preſſion, beſides it is an Angliciſm. We ſay, "The ſame Length of Time;" but the French ſay, "Aſſez long Temps." Moreover this Expreſſion is ſo natural and uſual, that I wonder you endea⯑voured to find out another.

I have no more Faults to find, only in the Spelling; but the Tranſlation is ſo well in the main, that I will ſend you ſome little Preſent for it.

I hope to hear from you to-morrow, how you like Baron Tomliſon's Speech.^* [25] You have never acknowledged the Re⯑ceipt of any of thoſe Papers.

LETTER X.

I HAVE the Pleaſure of yours of the 11th inſtant; which is ſtill better than any of the former; only you for⯑get to ſpell aright. You ſay, Vous me traiter, inſtead of Vous me traitez; Ceci vous trouverai, inſtead of Ceci vous trou⯑vera. The French is exceeding well; but obſerve, you write, "J'ay receu cha⯑que Papier vous m'avez envoyé." This [26] is an Angliciſm; for we ſay, "I have received every Paper you ſent me," in⯑ſtead of "every Paper that you ſent me," but the French do not; ſo it ſhould have been, "Chaque Papier que vous m'avez envoyé.

I have not been abroad ſince Saturday, being confined to the Houſe by a great Cold. I have ſent you, on the other Side, the reſt of Babillarde's Character. I want to know how you do, and how you paſs your Time,^* which you may write in Engliſh and at Length.

[27]When I can go abroad, I ſhall remem⯑ber what I promiſed. Your following Taſks ſhall be ſhorter than the former, that you may conſider them well, and not be hurried in point of Time. I am, with my hearty Service to your Aunt, ma chere Nannette,

P. S. You'll obſerve that the Tranſla⯑tion herewith ſent is very near the French Idiom. This I did to make it more eaſy for you. When you return to Town, I would have you try to put theſe Tranſla⯑tions into more proper Engliſh. We come next to the Character of Finnette, which I ſhall divide into three ſmall Taſks, à ſin que vous vous en acquittier à votre Aiſe, et avec Plaiſir.

LETTER XI.

I HAVE the Pleaſure of yours of the 20th and ſhewed it to your Mama, who was writing to you in the mean Time, but I ſuppoſe her Letter don't reach you till this Night.

You certainly do not remark the Dif⯑ferences between the Original and your Tranſlation, or you would not fall ſo often into Faults which are ſo obvious. You frequently mix Subſtantives and Ad⯑jectives of different Genders together, and Nouns and Verbs of different Num⯑bers. I have reproved you twice for that word mis, which you uſe both in [29] the ſingular and plural Number, and yet you have it twice in the laſt Tranſla⯑tion.

I remarked to you formerly, that you uſed the perfect Time, when the im⯑perfect was more proper; and if you had but compared the Original with your own Tranſlation, you would have found it, as I ſaid. You are to obſerve, as I told you before, when you ſpeak of a particular Thing done ſome time ago, you ſhould uſe the perfect: but when you ſpeak of a Thing uſually done, the imperfect. For Example:

"Elle mettoit l'Ordre dans la Maiſon du Roi." That is, ſhe uſed to do it. But when it is only a peculiar Action done once or at a certain Time,

[30]"Elle mit l'Ordre," &c.

Obſerve alſo, that they do not uſe the Word avec in France, in ſo extenſive a Senſe, as we do with in England, What we tranſlate into with is ſometimes à, ſometimes de in French.^* Remark too they ſay, La Cadette de ces deux, we ſay, "The youngeſt of the three." The Senſe is the ſame, though the Expreſſion is ſomewhat different; for Cadette ſigni⯑fies properly, one that is younger. Le Cadet, for Example, is the younger Brother, [31] whereas Cadette in this Place, implies the Siſter, who was younger than the other two.

When they talk of any Thing that we learn they uſe ſcavoir, inſtead of pouvoir, as you may ſee in the Original, and it is worth your Obſervarion.

I cannot ſay but the Tranſlation has the true Spirit of French in it; for this reaſon, it vexes me to ſee you fail in the commoneſt Things. I ſhall not trouble you with a new Exerciſe till Saturday, that you may conſider what I have re⯑marked in this and my fomer Letters, with Care and Diligence.

LETTER XII.

I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 26th. I have not yet ſeen your Ma⯑ma; when I do, I ſhall deliver her your Letter.

I ſhall not diſpute your Care; but there is a wide Difference between taking Care, and taking due Care. We may exerciſe a great deal, but if it is not rightly conducted, it may be very un⯑profitable. If you would ſurvey your Verbs with Attention, you would not [33] write liſer for lire, nor ils etoit for ils etoient. Theſe Errors would never hap⯑pen, if you were as circumſpect as you ought to be. I do not expect that you ſhould fall upon the beſt Phraſes in the French Language; that is impoſſible; but when you compare the Originals with your Tranſlations, you ſhould do it with ſo much Accuracy, as to im⯑print the French Phraſes and Idioms ſtrongly on your Mind. Remember what I wrote to you about the Exerciſe ^* on the other Side; when you lay that and the Original together, you will have a good Opportunity to remark the dif⯑ferent Uſe of the perfect and imperfect Tenſe.

[34]I have got Gil Blas to divert you when you return to Town: if you are very anxious to ſee it, and are to ſtay ſome further Time in the Country, I will ſend it by the Coach.

I was far from well when I wrote laſt, and rather worſe on Sunday; but have been prevailed upon to take a Medicine, and am now much better.

They talk warmly of putting more Ships in Commiſſion, and raiſing additional Forces, as if there were to be an Inva⯑ſion, and the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender, French Tyranny and arbitrary Government, were all ready to burſt in upon us,

as the Dragon of Wantley devoured the three poor Children. The anti-miniſte⯑rial People, however, ſay that all this Noiſe is only like crying, boh! to make a Child quiet; and that the poor Children three, are England, Scotland, and Ireland, whom they want to make lie quiet, till they tye them down in their Cradle, and rock them faſt aſleep. Don't you re⯑member when I uſed to frighten you with the Fox, Nancy? This is juſt ſuch ano⯑ther Farce, if you will believe our Pa⯑triots, as they call themſelves. But we muſt not truſt them too far; for they are thought to be diſſatisfied, if not diſ⯑affected, and ſome of them even ſuſpected [36] to be Jacobites—and love their Country notwithſtanding!—But how can that be?—Well, theſe Things are above our ordinary Capacities, and ſo we'll e'en let them alone.

Ne liſez vous quelquefois la Sainte Ecriture, Nannette? Il y a des Choſes très dignes de votre Attention, malgré tous ces Fous qui s'en mocquent.

Give my humble Service to your Aunt. Bon jour, Mademoiſelle!

LETTER XIII.

YOU ſtill continue to uſe the ſingular Verb for the plural. Is not this Negligence in the higheſt Degree? Theſe little Faults apart, the Tranſlation is ad⯑mirable, by far the beſt you ever made, and you improve in every one. I grant it is your Application to write fine French, that makes you neglect common Things; but then it looks ugly to ſee ſuch good French defective in the very firſt Princi⯑ples, that a Beginner would be aſhamed of. I do not think il cauſoit, for il faiſoit, good French. Pray obſerve the Arange⯑ment of the Original, and compare it with your Tranſlation. You ſay, il fit [38] l'Infidelité de cet Homme de retomber—They ſay, il fit retomber l'Infidelité, &c. Hence you may remark that they put as few Words as they can between the Infinitive and the Verb that governs it. After faire they never uſe the Particle; for Example, je le ferai entrer, and not d'entrer, or à en⯑trer.

On the whole, your Tranſlation charms me; and the Faults are but like a little Mole or two on a fine Face. I ſhall give you but a very ſhort Taſk this Day.

I can promiſe you vaſt Pleaſure in the reading of Gil Blas ^*. It is both in⯑ſtructive and pleaſant, and very pretty [39] French. I thought it might divert you now and then in bad Weather.

I commend you much for accuſtom⯑ing yourſelf to read the Pſalms and Chap⯑ters for the Day. As the Pſalms are a Piece of the fineſt Poetry in the World, as well as of the moſt divine and exalted Devotion, and as you have a Taſte for Poetry^*, and, like every body who has a Taſte, muſt have ſome preferable Paſ⯑ſages [40] in all Authors, I ſhould be glad to know which are your favourite Pſalms. I will acquaint you afterward which were mine when I was about your Age, and which remain ſo ſtill.

LETTER XIV.

I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 6th inſtant. Your Tranſlation is admira⯑ble. It outdoes all your former Out-doings, [41] as our Laureat ſays.^* There are only two Things ſcored, which you'll correct yourſelf, ſo I ſhall not ſpeak of them.

I give you till this Day Se'nnight to tranſlate the Exerciſe I now ſend. I have preſerved the French Air and Idiom as much as I could, to lead you by the Hand, as it were, to tranſlate it well.

Madame votre Mere ſe porte paſſa⯑blement bien; Madame M—, elle et moi nous dinames enſemble hier chez elle. Madame M—vous faite bien de Compliments. Le Temps commence d'etre un peu rude; ne ſerez vous pas de Retour bien-tot? Tout le Monde de vo⯑tre Connoiſance a grande Envie de vous revoir.

[42]You cannot imagine, my dear Nancy, whar Pleaſure your Choice of the Pſalms gives me: they are, every one, my own Favourites; every one, without Excep⯑tion. But then I had ſome more; ſuch as the 8, 19, 23, 29, 30, 34, 36, 42, 63, 65, 107, 139. but eſpecially the 8, 23, 34, 139. The 16th is alſo a fine Pſalm; but I would have you read them in the Bible, and not in our Prayer-Book. The Stile is much nobler in the Bible, that Tranſlation being far better than the other.

The Book of Eccleſiaſtes is the propereſt Book I know to be read, for making a true Judgment and Eſtimate of human Life, and the Things of the World; and the Book of Proverbs, and the Wiſdom [43] of Jeſus the Son of Sirach, in the Apocry⯑pha, contain the wiſeſt Precepts for the Conduct of private Life^*.

LETTER XV.

THIS is chiefly to cover the encloſed from your Mama. I am afraid you are ill, that you have not wrote to me theſe two Poſts; but perhaps you have been buſy, or viſiting, or diverted with [44] Company. However that may be, I ſhall be uneaſy, if I don't hear from you to-morrow.

Hier, au grand Matin, Don Thomas Giraldino, l'Ambaſſadeur d'Eſpagne, par⯑tit pour retourner chez lui; etant rap⯑pellé par le Roy, ſon Maitre; et ainſi il y a d'Apparence d'une Guerre entre les deux Couronnes. On dit que le Siege de Belgrade vient de ſe lever; mais cette derniere Nouvelle merite Confirmation. Voila tout ce que nous avons de nouveau aujourd'hui.

Je ſuis à vous, ma chere Filleule! Mes Compliments à Madame votre Tante.

LETTER XVI.

NOthing has happened, ſince I ſaw you, worth writing. We ſet out yeſterday Morning at a Quarter after four, and arrived here this Evening at a Quar⯑ter before eight, heartily weary of the Stage-Coach, as moſt People are.

I was at Church this Forenoon, and heard a Sermon preached before the Heads of the Univerſity.

[46]I hope you will continue to tranſlate, and be ſtrict to the ſame; but you muſt take ſome Liberty in the Expreſſion, be⯑cauſe the Idioms of the two Languages will not admit of a literal Tranſla⯑tion; you muſt therefore follow Horace's Advice, ‘Not Word for Word too faithfully tranſlate.’

In my next I ſhall begin to make Obſervations upon Virgil, Homer, Mil⯑ton, or any other Author you ſhall think fit to mention to me: for we may vary our Subject occaſionally, and derive Ad⯑vantage from it. Whatſoever Book you [47] are engaged in, if there be any Point on which you may wiſh to have my Opi⯑nion, I hope you will apply without Reſerve, and be aſſured, I ſhall always gratify myſelf when I can oblige you.

I give my humble Service to your Mo⯑ther and Aunt, and am,

LETTER XVII.

I Received your Letter yeſternight, and am charmed with it. It is written with Senſe and Spirit, and in an eaſy fa⯑miliar [48] Stile, as all Letters ſhould be writ⯑ten. The Writing too is good, the Lines ſtrait, and the Paper kept free from Blurs or Blots. Theſe Particulars give me Pleaſure. Pray perſevere in this Care and Attention. Good Habits are full as eaſy to be attained and preſerved as bad ones. The only Point is to ſ [...]t out in a right Way at firſt, and enter upon it with Determination.

I would have you, by all Means, pur⯑chaſe the Archbiſhop of Cambray's Dia⯑logues des Morts, with the Fables and Lives of the antient Philoſophers: they are all bound up together in one Volume. It is an excellent Book; and though one would think that you, a young Girl, ſhould have little to do with the Lives [49] of old Philoſophers, yet you cannot fail of finding many Things, which will be of vaſt Advantage to you, if you duly obſerve them. You will perceive that even the greateſt Men were ſubject to groſs Failings and Follies; but the main Points to claim your Obſervation, are thoſe wiſe Rules and Maxims that were eſtabliſhed among them, ſome by one, ſome by ano⯑ther, and the ſalutary Obſervations they made of Men and Things. Theſe, if you conſider them, will be of great Service to you in the Conduct of Life.

I would have you, my Dear, to read often the Proverbs of Solomon, the Eccle⯑ſiaſtes, Eccleſiaſticus, and the Wiſdom of the Son of Sirach. There are few Books, which I know, fit to be compared [50] with them for Inſtructions to make us wiſe and happy.

I would likewiſe recommend to you the 8th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th Satires of Juvenal, and the 2d of Perſius; and that you would think well and often on them.

Preſerve ſtill that Goodneſs and Sweet⯑neſs of Temper, of which you are ſo much Miſtreſs; and that Modeſty, Hu⯑mility, and Freedom from Affectation, Pride, and Vanity, which, without Flatte⯑ry, are ſo remarkable in you. Perſevere unceaſingly in Affection and Obedience to your Mother, in Kindneſs and Compaſ⯑ſion to your Fellow-Creatures, and, above all, in the Fear and Love of God; there [51] will be then no Danger but that you will find People who will love and eſteem you, nay, very probably, even pique themſelves on ſerving you, and be proud to be thought your Friends and Bene⯑factors.

Let me hear from you often, my Dear: write freely. Let me always know what you are about, and what happens to you. I long to hear that you are gone into the Country, leſt you ſhould not be in Time to ſee Mrs. F—before ſhe leaves it. She is a moſt deſerving Woman, and I could wiſh to make you acquainted with her. An Intimacy with a Perſon of real Merit, is one great Bleſſing of Life: they who live longeſt perceive this moſt. Inform me when you ſet out, [52] and I will ſend you a Letter of Intro⯑duction.

There is a little Book, called the Duke of Rochefoucault's Maxims, full of excel⯑lent Obſervations on the World and hu⯑man Life. I would have you procure this little Treatiſe, either in French or Engliſh, as you can beſt meet with it.

Adieu, ma chere, for this Time. My kind Service to your Mother and Aunt.

LETTER XVIII.

AS ſoon as this comes to your Hand, pray carry the encloſed Letter. The Gentleman, to whom it is addreſſed, and his Wife, paſſed through this Place the Day before yeſterday. She will be glad to ſee you: ſhe talked very kindly of you, and ſaid ſhe had heard a great Character of you.

She is a Perſon of much Worth and good Senſe. If you converſe with her freely and naturally, like yourſelf, with⯑out Oſtentation or Affection, you cannot miſs to pleaſe her.

[54]I have heard ſome of your Acquain⯑tance complain that you are too baſhful—regard not that—your Modeſty becomes you. Be not too preſſing to gain Ap⯑plauſe. If you go on in your own Way, it will come to you uncourted; and Love and Eſteem will come along with it. Endeavour to merit it, and the more indifferent you ſeem about it, the more certain you are to acquire it.

I have a long Letter for you ſoon, ſo I ſhall ſay no more now, but adieu, ma très chere.

P. S. My humble Service to your Mo⯑ther and Aunt. Adieu, encore, my little dear.

LETTER XIX.

I Have your agreeable Letter of the 14th inſtant, and would have anſwer⯑ed it before, but that I have been [...] ⯑gaged lately in a little Buſineſs, which has prevented my writing to you ſo often as I intended.

You want to have long Letters from me; I want the ſame Thing from you. I wiſh you had been particular about your Viſit to Mr. and Mrs. F—, and that you had let me know the Subject your Converſation turned upon. You don't tell me if Mr. W—has ſent the Arch⯑biſhop [56] of Cambray's Book, nor what you think of Rochefoucault's Maxims; but as you are deeply engaged in Homer, I can eaſily excuſe that.

There are infinite Beauties in Homer; and though all Tranſlations muſt, in ſome Reſpects, fall ſhort of ſo great an Original, yet I think Mr. Pope pre⯑ſerves the Life and Soul, and Fire of it, in a great Degree. There is not ſuch a vaſt Warmth and Ardour in Virgil, but then there is ſuch a Beauty, and, I may ſay, Lovelineſs in him, as paſſes all De⯑ſcription; nor is it poſſible for the Heart of a Reader, who is ignorant of this Ori⯑ginal, to form any Manner of Idea of it. When you read Pope's Tranſlation, you read ſomething like Homer himſelf; but [57] when you read Dryden's Tranſlation of Virgil, you can ſcarce have any Notion or Image of his genuine Excellencies. No Painter ever gave more fine and lively Expreſſion to a Picture, or with more Exactneſs and Judgment, than Vir⯑gil gives to his Deſcriptions. Nay, if you ſaw the Thing itſelf repreſented be⯑fore you, it would ſcarcely make a deeper Impreſſion. Yet I do not hereby preſume to aver that Dryden was a Poet inferior to Pope, but he was old, and not à ſon Aiſe, when he tranſlated Virgil. A bet-Excuſe however may be brought for him; namely, that neither our Lan⯑guage, nor (to my Belief) any other Language in the World, can come up to the Beauty, Elegance and Energy of the matchleſs Original.

[58]Though no one can read Homer, who has any (though ever ſo little) Elevation of Fancy, without being charmed with him, yet if we are let into his great Deſign, the Structure and Contrivance of his Fable, the Plot, Conduct, and Execution of the Whole, with what the Criticks call the Characters, the Sentiments, Dic⯑tion, Figures, Deſcriptions, &c. I ſay, when theſe Things are duly known, we ſhall have a much greater Pleaſure in read⯑ing him, than otherwiſe we can poſſi⯑bly attain.

If you will read Pope's Introduction to the Iliad, with Care, it will prove of great Uſe to you. You ſhould alſo make yourſelf acquainted with his Notes; but in order to have a juſt Conception of this [59] Stile of Writing. it is neceſſary to pay great Attention to Boſſu's Treatiſe of Epick Poetry. It is commended as the moſt judicious Eſſay on that Subject, that ever was written; and though it be of little Uſe to us, till we are ſomewhat acquainted with Epick Poetry, yet, once dipped into that excellent Way of Writing, it is of infinite Service to give us a true Taſte for it. We ſhould experience the Advantage of it, in a high Degree, through the Iliad, the Odyſ⯑ſey, the Aeneid, and Paradiſe Loſt. Many other Epick Poems are written, which perhaps may as well be let alone as read. I except ſome proſe Performances, ſuch as Telemaque. Taſſo's Jeruſalem de⯑livered has been recommended to me [60] well worth reading: it was originally written in Italian^*. There is, however, I am told, an old Tranſlation of it into Engliſh, by Edward Fairfax, which I am going to read forthwith. A Friend, on whoſe Taſte and Judgment I can de⯑pend, aſſures me it is an admirable Work, abounding with exquiſite Poetry, and all the Spirit of an Original. Statius, who certainly had a great poetic Genius, wrote an Heroic Poem in Latin, called the Thebaid; but it falls ſo infinitely ſhort of Virgil in ſome Particulars, and [61] perhaps in all (except in his Fire, of which Statius had a large Portion) that his Poem and Virgil's are often oppoſed to each other in Boſſu, by way of contraſt; ſo that you may there ſee cloſe and nice Examples of Judiciouſneſs and Injudici⯑ouſneſs, Beauties and Defects. It might be of great Advantage to you, to have Statius and Virgil before you, when you read Boſſu, that you might immediately conſult the Originals, when any remark⯑able Quotation is made. There is ſome Part of the Thebaid tranſlated by Mr. Pope, but I do not know if the whole is rendered into Engliſh by any Hand. Now if you are inclined to read Boſſu, I will ſend it to you.

[62]There are ſome noble Beauties in Homer and Virgil, which I have, with great Ac⯑curacy, obſerved. Perhaps the chief of them may have been noticed by other People; however as they are my own, and not borrowed from, though they may reſemble, others, I flatter myſelf they may not be unwelcome to you.

To begin with Homer. We are to conſider in the firſt Place, what was his Deſign or End in writing an He⯑roick Poem, abſtracted entirely from the Tendency of the Work.

The End this Poet propoſed to himſelf, perhaps, was to procure Praiſe, perhaps, Profit. The latter has been too often the Caſe of Poets, and if the Tradition be [63] true, that Homer was blind and poor, it might have been the ſame with him. Horace ingenuouſly confeſſes of himſelf,

Yet when we conſider the Sublimity, and almoſt Divinity of Homer's Writings, we are ſurely tempted to think that he was not poor; if he was, how much is he to be admired and revered, who ſcorned to ſtoop to low diſgraceful Subjects, by which, however, he might poſſibly have obtained an eaſier and more plentiful Subſiſtence, than by producing ſuch a laborious, ſublime and uſeful Work!

It is probable that the Aeneid was wrote with a Deſign to compliment Auguſtus [64] Caeſar, and procure his Favour. Allow⯑ing this, I cannot but think that Virgil pleaſed himſelf, at the ſame Time, with the Beauty and Lovelineſs of the Charac⯑ters and Deſcriptions he gave us; and in the Reflection of having endeavoured to make Mankind better, by repreſenting the Excellence of Virtue, and Deteſtabi⯑lity ^* of Vice, in their diſtinct Colours.

You perceive hereby that we are to diſtinguiſh between the End an Author [65] propoſes to himſelf by his Work, and that which he propoſes to the World. The general Deſign and Tendency may be equally to amuſe and improve Mankind; the particular Tendency, to inculcate ſome uſeful Truth in the Minds of thoſe Per⯑ſons, for whom the Work was chiefly written.

Virgil founds, his Subject on the Actions and Sufferings of Aeneas, from the De⯑ſtruction of Troy, till he ſettled, a new Empire in Italy; and the Leſſon, to be deduced from it, ſeems to be, the great Efficacy of a due Mixture of active and [66] paſſive Virtues. His Aeneas is wiſe, juſt, pious, valiant, good-natured, patient, and firm to his Purpoſe. Theſe Virtues carry him, at laſt, through all his Diffi⯑culties; but his Patience and Piety, ſeem moſt important to him. This is nicely judicious in the Author, to make the Hero owe his Happineſs to his unre⯑pining Endurance of Hardſhips, his im⯑plicit Submiſſion to the Will of Heaven, and his pious Affection for his Father, his Son, his Friends, and his People; hence he is beloved of them all; and we find, notwithſtanding his long Sufferings, he was the peculiar Care of Heaven.

Man is not a faultleſs Being. Virgil therefore did not chuſe to draw his Hero out of Nature. He has deſcribed him with the Imperfections of a human Be⯑ing. [67] He is very culpable in his Behavi⯑our to Dido. This is his great Fault; but you ſee, the Author has judiciouſly attributed that to him, which the greateſt of Men are liable to, and the beſt of Men ſometimes fall into. Aeneas how⯑ever acted not half ſo bad a Part by Dido, as David did with reſpect to Bathſheba and Uriah; and yet you ſee, it coſt Aeneas very dear, and it was not without great Grief and Anguiſh of Heart, that he ex⯑tricated himſelf at laſt. Suppoſing the Story to be true, a Man of ſo much Goodneſs of Diſpoſition as Aeneas, muſt have had many bitter Reflections, during the whole Courſe of his Life, for his Be⯑haviour at Carthage, and the fatal Event which attended it.

Dido ſtands a great Example to all Ages of the Danger and Ruin a Woman [68] of Virtue expoſes herſelf to, who ven⯑tures to give way, though ever ſo ſlightly, to the firſt Advances towards illicit Love. To your Sex ſhe ſhould be a perpe⯑tual Warning. It is worth your while to ſet the Picture before you. We will forget the Queen, and conſider her as more Woman. We find her ſtruggle with her Inclination, at firſt, and even ſwear againſt giving way to her Paſſion; yet ſhe liſtened with Pleaſure to every thing Aeneas ſaid. By Degrees ſhe is overcome. She then throws off all Re⯑ſerve and Shame; neglects her Affairs, gadds about with him from Place to Place, throwing aſide all the Decorum of her Sex and Situation; rides and hunts with him. At length, poor Wo⯑man! ſhe finds he is going to forſake her. [69] She ſtorms and threatens, weeps, and in⯑treats by Fits; now ſends a reſentful, now a ſubmiſſive Meſſage. He anſwers all with Reſpect, and Good-manners, but at he ſame Time, with Coldneſs and Indif⯑ference. This Treatment fills her with Agony unſpeakable. Reſt and Sleep are utter Strangers to her. At length, he de⯑parts from Carthage; then ſhe becomes diſtracted, expoſes herſelf to the whole City, execrates herſelf for not having de⯑ſtroyed him, his Son and herſelf; ſhe then ſinks again into Complaints and Lamentations, till ſhe is loſt in Deſpair, and reſolves to ſacrifice her Life. Poſſeſ⯑ſed with this horrid Determination, ſhe becomes outrageous, and flies through her Apartments with the Looks and Fury [70] of a Fiend, devoting him and his Po⯑ſterity to endleſs Torments. The Pre⯑ſents he had made her then meet her Eyes; ſhe diſſolves into Tears at the Sight, and moans, in painful Recollection, over the happy Hours ſhe had paſſed with him. Unable longer to endure the Va⯑riety of Torments that ſurround her, ſhe ſlays herſelf with a Sword, which had belonged to the Author of them, and in the Agonies of Death throws her⯑ſelf on the rich Apparel he had left be⯑hind him. Be it not forgot that, in this Act of Deſpair, ſhe placed the Picture ^* of her Lover on the funeral Pile. Thus, [71] notwithſtanding all her Rage and Re⯑ [...]entment, Love held the largeſt Domi⯑nion over her Mind, and poſſeſſed her [...]o the laſt.

Collect the whole, and meditate well [...]pon it. It nearly behoves you, and [...]very one of your Sex ſo to do; for be [...]ſſured, my dear Nancy, every looſe [...]etrayer is pictured in Aeneas, and every [...]educed Woman in Dido. From the Days of Virgil to this preſent Hour, the [...]etrayer will abandon the Victim of his [...]nwarrantable Paſſion, and the Victim will ſink under Miſery and Deſpair; and [...]uch muſt be the End of every licentious Amour: yet your unhappy Sex will not [...]ake Warning, though all Ages and Hiſto⯑ [...]ians unite to prove the fatal Truth.

[72]I have given you a very long Letter; the Story of Dido led me ſo far beyond what I propoſed: but as it was done with a view to your future Safety and Well-doing, I hope you will not think I have ſaid too much; but will treaſure up in your Remembrance this cautionary Admonition of,

LETTER XX.

THE Beauties, and various Incidents in the Fourth Book of the Aeneid, engaged me ſo cloſely, as to make me [73] poſtpone what I ſhould before have ob⯑ſerved, namely the Tendency of this moſt noble Poem. I now come to it.

Near the Beginning of the firſt Book, Virgil makes this Reflection, "So great a Taſk was it to found the Roman Em⯑pire^*." From which I am of Opinion that the immediate and particular Deſign of his Work was to imprint on the Minds of the Romans, his Countrymen, a great Eſteem for themſelves, a paſſio⯑nate Love for their Country, and a becom⯑ing [74] Piety and Gratitude towards the Gods; thoſe Gods, who had fought for them, who had led them through ſo many Dangers and Difficulties, and, after ſuch ſevere Encounters with other Nations, and even with ſome of the Deities themſelves who were Enemies to the Trojans, had, at laſt, ſet⯑tled them in that fine Country of Italy, and from ſmall Beginnings had enabled them to grow up to ſuch a Height as per⯑haps the World had never ſeen before, nor ever ſhall again.

If this was Virgil's Deſign (and ſurely it is very probable) how agreeable is it to what we find in holy Writ! Jacob ſays,

Moſes tells the Iſraelites, that they were the feweſt of all People, and God had made them a mighty and a ſtrong Nation. This is in order to excite in them Gratitude and Piety. David, in a hundred Places, mentions the Aſſiſtance of God, whereby, from a low and de⯑ [...]picable Eſtate, he was become great and mighty.

‘As the Lord liveth, who hath re⯑deemed my Soul out of all Adverſity.’ &c.

Now Virgil, when he wrote his Aeneid, ſeems to have been poſſeſſed of the ſame Sentiments as thoſe of David, Moſes and Jacob. It appears manifeſtly ſo by the Spirit, which runs through his whole Work.

We find him every where in love with Piety, Prudence, Patience, Conſtancy of Mind, Modeſty, Humanity, Candour and in ſhort with all that is praiſe-worthy. He has beſide a Paſſion for the Belles-Let⯑tres, [77] and Arts and Sciences, in general; and by his Maxims, recommends a ſober, induſtrious Life and Contentment with a little, rather than we ſhould proſtitute our⯑ſelves, and our Principles for Gain; ſo that this noble Work is not only a fine Poem, but moreover a compleat Syſtem of Morality.

Not only the Virtues above-mention⯑ed are recommended, and placed in a favourable Light, throughout the whole Work, but their contrary Vices are branded with Infamy and Deteſtation, al⯑ways hurtful, if not fatal to the Perſons, poſſeſſed of them. The Author makes Virtue and Piety carry People through all Difficulties; that is, in moſt Inſtances, but he has peculiar Exceptions. He knew too much of the World and of Nature, [78] to make it always ſo. This would have been contradictory to Experience, and even his own Maxims; for he frequently gives us plain Intimations, that it often pleaſes Providence to do, and bring about Things, which we cannot account for. You may remember, for Inſtance, that at the Burning of Troy, Aeneas loſt his wife, Creuſa, in the Confuſion. He re⯑turned, and went again through all his Dangers, in queſt of her. At laſt, ſhe appears to him, and deſires him to em⯑ploy no more Sollicitude about her, for he was never to ſee her again. She adds, that ſuch Things do not happen but by the Will and Ordination of Heaven; in⯑timating that it was the great Mother of the Gods, who had detained her in thoſe Parts, purpoſely that ſhe might not [79] be enſlaved by the Greeks. Laſtly, ſhe recommends, with great Earneſtneſs, their Son Aſcanius to his Care, the com⯑mon Pledge of their Love. Now, to aſk why a virtuous affectionate Cou⯑ple ſhould be ſo dreadfully ſeparated, and why Creuſa ſhould periſh in Troy, who had not deſerved it by any Crime, were to aſk a preſumptuous and an impious Queſ⯑tion, allowing the Story to be true. It was undoubtedly to anſwer ſome great and better Purpoſe, intentionally con⯑cealed from our weak Judgments; and this is the Leſſon, which Virgil means to give us. Creuſa's tender Concern for her Child is moſt affectingly natural, and the Reality has been verified in the Deathbed Farewel of many worthy Wives.

[80]Will you permit me to digreſs one Moment, to mark to you a Beauty of this Kind in our great dramatic Bard, our Shakeſpeare? In the third Act of Hamlet, when the Ghoſt appears to the Prince and his Mother in the Cloſet, "to whet his almoſt-blunted Purpoſe," he ſudden⯑ly breaks from that, to a tender Con⯑cern and Compaſſion for the Queen's Si⯑tuation,

This Solicitude for the Sufferings of one, who in Life was dear, ſurviving the Grave, is moſt inexpreſſibly beautiful.

[81]To return to Virgil: don't you think, Nancy, that if he had lived ſince Popery came into the World, the Roman Ca⯑tholics would have ſaid that the Mother of the Gods detaining Creuſa, meant that the Virgin Mary had taken her into her eſpecial Service?

Whenever this Author makes virtuous Perſons ſuffer, it is neceſſary that you ſhould obſerve, he makes them guilty of ſome Fault, which naturally brings on their Diſtreſſes; and it is to ſuch Fault yon muſt attribute them, abſtractedly from their good Qualities. I ſhall give you a ſhort Inſtance or two.

The hopeful, the beautiful, the vir⯑tuous Pallas, was killed untimely, in [82] the very Bloom of his Youth; ſo was the charming young Euryalus, the only Joy of his Mother, as the other was the only Hope of his Father, Lauſus met alſo the ſame Deſtiny, the worthy Son of an unworthy Father.

Now while you pity them, conſider they were all three too raſh. The Heat of Youth carried them beyond the Bounds of Prudence: they all loved their Pa⯑rents, and were beloved by them with great Tenderneſs; but that Heat and Impetuoſity rendered them diſobedient. Pallas's Eagerneſs made him break his Promiſe to his Father. The Caſe was much the ſame with Lauſus; after he had ſaved his Father's Life, his Eagerneſs prevented his attending him, though of⯑ten and often ſent for. Euryalus under⯑took [83] an Exploit above his Years, and that without taking Leave of an affec⯑tionate Mother. Much is to be learn⯑ed from theſe Examples; for though Virgil does not expreſſly ſay, they ſuf⯑fered on theſe Accounts, yet he plainly inſinuates it. Again, the impious Fa⯑ther of Lauſus is forced to confeſs that his Wickedneſs was the original Cauſe of his Son's Loſs, and owns it to be a juſt Judgment on him.

By theſe Examples Virgil teaches us how dangerous it is to fail in a Point of Duty to Parents, albeit through the mere Frailty of our Nature, and nei⯑ther out of Contempt nor Stubbornneſs of Temper.

LETTER XXI.

THE infinite Beauties of Virgil have carried me ſo much farther than I in⯑tended, that, if I can prevail upon myſelf, I ſhall contract what I have to ſay further on this Subject into a narrow Compaſs; though there are ſo many Charms in this glorious Poem, that I ſcarce know how to quit it.

To point out all the Excellencies of the Aeneid, it would be neceſſary to repeat the whole Poem. I will therefore only touch on ſome of thoſe Paſſages [85] which pleaſe me moſt, and are, what I judge, the chief Beauties.

In the firſt Book, we may remark his meeting with his Mother under the Fi⯑gure of a Huntreſs, his going to Carthage, the Reception which the Queen gave him, and her becoming enamoured of him; and the Artifice which Venus uſed for that Purpoſe.

The Story of Sinon, in the ſecond Book, the Return of Aeneas to ſeek his Wife, his Interview and Converſation with her Spirit, and the affectionate Care and Anxiety he teſtified for his Father, his Son and whole Family, are very affecting.

How ſtriking are his Adventures and Diſtreſſes through the whole third Book, [86] but particularly his Encounter with He⯑lenus and Andromache! How natural was all that happened on that Event! The Story of Achaemenides, the Cyclopes, and the Deſcription of Aetna!

In the fourth Book, the whole Proceſs of the Loves of Aeneas and Dido, with their fatal Conſequences, are beyond all Parallel, all Power of Imitation.

In the fifth, the funeral Games are in⯑troduced in Honour of Anchiſes, particu⯑larly the Mock-fight of the Children, called Ludus Trojanus. Theſe are fol⯑lowed by the burning of the Ships and Behaviour of the Matrons.

[87]The whole ſixth Book is inexpreſſi⯑bly fine; his meeting with Dido, and their mutual Behaviour thereon; his encountering Deiphobus and his Father, and having the Ghoſts of his Poſterity ſhewn him, are all moſt awefully af⯑fecting. Shakeſpeare ſeems to have imi⯑tated this laſt Circumſtance in his Macbeth.

How well does he deſcribe the Joys of Heaven and Hell, and what Sort of Inhabitants are to be found in each Place! The chief in Heaven are thoſe, who have ſuffered Wounds and Death for their Country; Prieſts who have lived a holy Life, becoming their Profeſſion; and Bards who have written and sung in pious Strains, not unworthy of the [88] Gods; intimating, that thoſe who proſ⯑titute ſuch ſublime Talents to mean and vitious Purpoſes, deſerve nor the Care of Heaven. Next in Degree to theſe are Perſons who have employed their Life in Arts and Inventions, for the Be⯑nefit of Mankind, and ſuch as have diſ⯑tinguiſhed themſelves by doing good.

In the other State, he allots the greateſt Share of Miſery to thoſe, who, when alive, hated their Brethren. Herein the Writer agrees exactly with what our Saviour ſaid to Peter about forgiving his Brother, and what is likewiſe inculcat⯑ed in many other Parts of Scripture. St. John ſays,

We next behold thoſe who have re⯑jected their Parents, defrauded their De⯑pendants, and deceived ſuch as confided in them; after which come thoſe who have ſate brooding over their Gold, and refuſed to ſhare it with the needy; thoſe who have ſold their Country for mercenary Ends, have wreſted the Laws, and deſtroyed the Conſtitution; and thoſe who have dared to be guilty of Adul⯑tery or Inceſt. To what noble Purpoſes, my dear Nancy, does this viſionary Scene conduce! How admirably has Virgil's Fancy and Morality gone Hand in Hand!

[90]Do you not admire that charming De⯑ſcription, in the ſeventh Book, of the different Nations who came as Allies to the War, which was impending? Their Behaviour, Habits, Arms, Cuſtoms, how infinitely entertaining! and particularly, the charming Picture of Camilla, the fe⯑male Warrior, and her Troop of Ladies.

The great Events in the enſuing Part of the Work are, Aeneas's Viſit to Evan⯑der, the Converſation and Conſequences, the ſimple Way of Life purſued by that old Prince, the Story of Cacus, and that of Niſus and Euryalus, the Praiſes of Her⯑cules, the Speeches of Turnus and Dran⯑ces, and the Deaths of Pallas, Camilla, and Lauſus. What noble Fire and Spi⯑rit does he diſplay, when he deſcribes the [91] Conflict between Aeneas and Turnus! and how ſublime are the Sentiments of the latter, when he diſcovers that he had been purſuing a Spectre, inſtead of Aeneas, and again, when he is about to expire. Theſe, my dear Nancy, are ſuch great and beautiful Paſſages, as ap⯑pear to riſe in your Eſtimation, the more you conſider, and the oftner you pe⯑ruſe them.

It is worth your while alſo to obſerve how humane a Man, and how fine a Gen⯑tleman, Virgil appears throughout his whole Work. With what Pleaſure does he dwell on Inſtances of Piety, pater⯑nal Love, filial Duty, conjugal Affec⯑tion, Humanity, Hoſpitality, and every ſocial Virtue! With what apparent De⯑light [92] does he ſpeak of a lovely Child, or a promiſing Youth! We ſee Inſtances of this in his Aſcanius, Aſtyanax, Eurya⯑lus, Pallas, and Lauſus.

He ſeems to deſcribe, with no leſs Par⯑ticipation of Joy, Examples of fond ten⯑der Parents, in Aeneas, Evander, Creuſa Andromache, Amata, and the Mother of Euryalus. He inſtructs us in the Know⯑ledge of human Nature, (wherein he was deeply ſkilled) by painting the Love and Concern for a worthy Son, in the ſavage and impious Mind of Mezentius. We may hence derive ſome very important Truths and Leſſons. We learn firſt that Love to our Children is ſo inherent, that Perſons who acknowledge no other Claim, who feel no other Call of Na⯑ture, [93] and who are actually guilty of great Faults, in other Reſpects, ſtill pre⯑ſerve their Duty and Affection here. We learn beſide that Worth and Goodneſs will always be beloved and admired, and extort ſome Degree of Approbation, even from the moſt unfeeling Heart. Had the Son of Mezentius been leſs de⯑ſerving, probably his Father would not have mourned his Loſs to ſuch Exceſs; Aeneas not ſo ſtrongly regretted having killed him; nor would Virgil have be⯑wailed him in ſuch Terms, as (to uſe the Expreſſion of Horace) "were worth his dying for." He loſt his Life through his Exceſs of Virtue; he was alarmed with Grief and Fear at Sight of his Fa⯑ther's Danger, ruſhed between him and Aeneas, and preſerved his Parent. By [94] this we are taught another uſeful Truth; namely, that no Fault of a Parent can ſuperſede the Duty of a Child. He might have eſcaped, after he had preſerved his Father; but Raſhneſs, ſo incident to Youth, drove him to venture beyond his Strength. Aeneas fore-warned him; he was deaf to this humane Advice, and his Death was the natural Con⯑ſequence.

How finely natural is the Interview between Aeneas and Andromache, the Wi⯑dow of Hector and Mother of Aſtyanax! It is worth your while to place them plainly and exactly before you. She weeps; he ſtands amazed, and can hard⯑ly hiſs out (ſuch is the literal Meaning of Virgil's Expreſſion) a few Words. [95] When ſhe has Power of Utterance, ſhe expatiates on many Subjects at once; ſhe relates the Story of her Life ſince the taking of Troy, then enquires of his; then queſtions him about his Son, if he was not a promiſing Youth, if he did not copy after him and his Uncle Hec⯑tor? and if he did not take to Heart the Death of his Mother? At parting from Aeneas, ſhe takes Leave of Aſca⯑nius; ſhe calls him the very Picture of her poor Aſtyanax: ſhe diſcovers the ſame Countenance, Eyes, and Hands, and that, had he happily ſurvived, he would have been of the ſame Growth. This is the very Strength and Beauty of Nature, whoſe Workings and Effects are the ſame in all Degrees of Life. Our Stations may be different, but our Feel⯑ings are alike.

[96] Virgil not only dwells upon the Duty of Children to their Parents, but even to their Nurſes, to thoſe who have had the Care of their Infancy. He recommends this, and exalts the Character of his Hero, at the ſame Time. That Part of the Coaſt of Italy, where the Nurſe of Aeneas was buried, was called after her Name, and the pious Hero beſtowed on her an honourable Funeral.

How pleaſing is the Deſcription of Anna's Nurſe (whom Dido treated with the ſame Tenderneſs as ſhe would her own, who was deceaſed) with an Intent and buſy Air labouring to execute the Queen's Orders; Virgil's Expreſſion is "Studio anili;" that is, with that Cau⯑tion [97] and Concern, ſo peculiar to her Age and Office.

Our Author appears alſo as partially fond of his old Men, who are good and pious; his Priam, Anchiſes, Evander, and Butes. Priam is the firſt Man to encourage Sinon, and Anchiſes is the ſame to Achaemenides. You ſee the Care and Attention which the Tutor of Aſcanius ſhews his Pupil. Thus Virgil paints Mankind in every Stage and Station of Life, and in all with equal Propriety: his Judgment never fails him.

I had forgot to recommend two very fine Paſſages; the Meeting between Alecto and Turnus, and the Story of Aeneas's Shield, made by Vulcan. Had I [98] nothing to divert me from this my fa⯑vourite Employ of inſtructing you, my Obſervations ſhould be more copious and diſtinct; but ſtill I hope they are what will be of ſome Uſe. If I have not tired you, I will employ another Let⯑ter on this ſame Subject, ſo difficult do I find it to leave this admirable Writer; ever deſiring you to retain in your Mind, that it is not in Order to make you a Critic, only to enable you to read theſe two incomparable Poems, the Iliad and Aeneid, with Pleaſure and Profit.

P. S. I ſend this by a private Hand.

LETTER XXII.

I Received yours of the 23d inſtant; it gave me more Pleaſure than I can expreſs. Your Sentiments of particular Paſſages in Homer, ſo far as you have read, are juſt and fine, and I deſire you will give me your Thoughts on all the Remainder, as you proceed. Homer cer⯑tainly ſtrikes us more than Virgil, at firſt. He ſurpaſſes almoſt all Writers in Loftineſs, in Strength, in Fire, and in a boundleſs Fancy. But more of this at Length, when we come to have him before us, and make him our [100] mutual Topic; though, in Truth, you have prevented a good deal of what I ſhould have had to ſay on him, and will continue ſo to do, as you go on. I will now conclude my Obſervations on the Aeneid, and that in as few Words as poſſible.

Virgil makes his Hero not only do hu⯑mane Offices to his Friends, his Rela⯑tions, and to his Nurſe, but even to his Servants. His Care of the Funerals of Miſenus his Trumpeter, and Palinurus his Pilot, are Inſtances of this.

When he deſcribes a funeral Pomp, a Sacrifice, the Admiſſion of an Ambaſ⯑ſador, the Conſecration of a Trophy, the Celebration of a Feſtival, the Solem⯑nities [101] at declaring War, or concluding Peace, or any Ceremonial whatſoever, it is not only moſt beautifully delivered, but we may be aſſured, he lets us, at the ſame time, into the exact Manners and Cuſtoms of the Romans, on all ſuch Occaſions, ſo that Delight and Inſtruction go Hand in Hand.

Not only every word in Virgil is a Jewel, but they are all ſo put together, that every Sentence may be ſaid to repre⯑ſent a String of Jewels ſet to the beſt Ad⯑vantage, and the whole Aeneid is ſo com⯑pact, one Part ſo connected with another, that they tend to illuſtrate each other in the moſt ſtriking Colours, and follow in ſuch natural Order and Proceſs, as renders [102] the whole Work beautiful, and places it in the moſt becoming Point of Sight.

It is obſervable that Virgil never uſes an idle Word. Although there are ſome things, the Purpoſe whereof we do not perceive, at a firſt reading, yet on nearer obſervation, before, or by the Time we reach the End of the Poem, we plainly diſcover it. I'll give you an Inſtance of this fine Addreſs in Virgil.

He makes his Hero not only the greateſt Character in his Work, but alſo the moſt beautiful and virtuous. This is the Reverſe of Homer's Proceeding, who ſeems to make Hector's Character the moſt lovely of his Heroes; (and perhaps both Poets were in the Right, as I ſhall here⯑after [103] endeavour to make appear, when we come to compare Notes on the Greek) Virgil deſcribes Turnus fierce and haughty; when he kills Pallas, he does it with Pleaſure; he inſults over him, and diſpatches a cruel Meſſage to his Father. He indeed ſends back the Body (for this Author ſeems reſolved not to make Turnus ſo ſavage as Achilles) but ſpoils him of his Armour, and puts it on himſelf, together with the gorgeous Belt, which Pallas wore. Now we ſhould be apt to ſuppoſe, at this parti⯑cular Criſis, that there was nothing more implied herein, than that it was cuſtomary for great Warriors to wear the Arms of Adverſaries, whom they had ſubdued. But we find afterwards [104] that Virgil had a particular Uſe to make of this Belt, which he had ſo eſpecially mentioned. Turnus puts it on, and wears it in Triumph; whereon the Poet makes a uſeful Reflection, and, at the ſame time, gives us a Hint of what will fol⯑low. "The Mind of Man," ſays he, ‘elated with Proſperity, is incapable of behaving with Moderation, and blind to Futurity. The Time will come when Turnus will ſorely regret that ever he aſſaulted Pallas.’

I will break off here, leſt my Letter ſhould be too long, and give you one more on this Subject.

The Lines, you have quoted,^* are in my Opinion the moſt beautiful in the [105] whole Iliad. If you remember, one Night as we were coming through the Park, after I had repeated to you Milton's Deſcription of a fine Evening, I endea⯑voured to give you thoſe, but could not recollect them all.

LETTER XXIII.

YOUR Letter of the 27th came ſafe to my Hand on the 29th. I really cannot tell you particularly when I ſhall be in Town; but believe it will be ſome Time this Month. My comings depends on the Receipt of ſome Letters from Scot⯑land.

[106]As you intend to read the Aeneid again, there are many things, that I ſhall paſs over, becauſe I would not foreſtall the Pleaſure you are to have, if you read it with due Attention, I ſhall only finiſh the Remark I began about Pallas's Belt.

When Aeneas vanquiſhes Turnus, at the latter Part of the Poem, Turnus ſues for his Life. Now it was not pro⯑per to grant it; and the Nicety was, how to make Aeneas, who was ſo famous for Humanity, and a merciful Diſpoſition, not comply with the Requeſt, and yet preſerve his own Character. Behold this very Belt is made uſe of, which natu⯑rally and critically meets his Eye at the very Inſtant when his Anger begins to relent and his Heart to melt. He imme⯑diately fires, with freſh Reſentment, on [107] recollection of the cruel Inſults which Turnus was guilty of, when he flew Pal⯑las. Hence a noble Indignation, Reſent⯑ment, and even Compaſſion for the Fate of Pallas occaſions the Death of Turnus; and thus the Poet, by a beautiful Stroke of Fancy, makes that great Event the Re⯑ſult of Friendſhip and Pity, which otherwiſe had been an Act of Cruelty. We learn alſo, from the Inſtance before us, this fine Leſſon, "That what People are moſt proud and vain of, is often the Occaſion of their Ruin." There is a noble Reflection to this Purpoſe at the End of the tenth Satire of Juvenal. All that I have further to ſay about the Aeneid, is, to point out to you ſome charming Compariſons, and then I have done with it. This I ſhall do in my next [108] Letter, which I propoſe writing on Sun⯑day.

I would have you, my dear, look in⯑to the Lives of the ancient Philoſophers; and particularly regard their Obſervations made on Life; they will be of great Uſe to you.

You do not tell me what you think of the Duke of Rochefoucault's Maxims, and Obſervations.

I am now going through Ovid's Meta⯑morphoſes anew, and the more I read, the more I am charmed with it. I won⯑der you do not proceed in that Work. No Man ſurely had ever ſo eaſy, ſo natu⯑ral, ſo charming a Manner of telling a Story. You love Novels. Ovid has an [109] Hundred, at leaſt; and all of them infi⯑nitely beautiful in their Way. But no more of him at preſent. It will be near a Week before I can ſay any thing to you about Homer.

LETTER XXIV.

I Wrote to you on the 1ſt inſtant, with a ſmall Encloſure, which I hope is come ſafe to Hand. It will enable you [110] to buy the Iliad, ſince you love it ſo well, and furniſh you with a little Pocket money over and above.

You neither write me, if you have been to ſee the Lady I recommended, again, nor how you like Rochefoucault, nor the Arch-biſhop of Cambray's Lives of the Philoſophers; but, I fancy, Homer engages all your Attention at preſent.

I ſhall conclude all that I have to ſay about Virgil, with pointing out ſome few ſtriking Compariſons.

[111]In the firſt Book of the Aeneid, Neptune, reproving the Winds and the Waves, is well compared to a Man of Merit and Authority ſpeaking to an enraged Mob. In the Fourth, Dido to a wounded Deer—and Turnus and Aeneas, to two diſtinct Conflagrations in different Parts of a Fo⯑reſt, or two Torrents pouring down a ſteep Hill. When Aeneas, after the Arrow was drawn out with which he was wounded, is returning to the Place of Battle, with the whole Corps de Reſerve, while Clouds of Duſt ariſe, and the Earth trembles with the Beating of the Horſes Feet, his Ene⯑mies, ſtruck with Terror, are nobly com⯑pared to Huſbandmen, who ſee a black Storm coming acroſs the Sea, that threa⯑tens univerſal Ruin, deſtroys the Trees, and lays waſte the Fruits of the Earth. [112] The Poet makes it ſtill more terrible by one peculiar Circumſtance, which is a whiſk⯑ing Wind, a certain Fore-runner of ſuch a dreadful Storm, as he there deſcribes.

Aeneas purſuing Turnus, and not being able to overtake him, is aptly likened to a Hound purſuing a Deer; and this is ſo lively a Repreſentation to one who has ſeen ſuch a Chace, as nothing can ſur⯑paſs. ☞ Again Turnus, in his Engagement with Aeneas, when confounded with Fear and the bad Omens he had met with, and perſuaded the Gods were againſt him, fights indeed, but in ſuch a Manner, as one imagines one does in a Dream. How forcibly pictureſque! But read it. That exceeds all Deſcription.

[113]There is, however, a Compariſon in Milton, which is far beyond all I ever read in Virgil, Homer, or any where. That is, the Compariſon of Michael and Satan to two black Clouds, that fill up the dif⯑ferent Parts of the Sky, big with Thun⯑der, Lightening and Tempeſt, and at laſt diſcharge their whole Artillery at each other.

The laſt Obſervation I ſhall make on Virgil, is, that he has been a great Lover of what is called the Belles Lettres. We can perceive that be admired Painting himſelf, by what he relates of Aeneas admiring the Paintings in Dido's Palace before he broke through the Cloud, and by his charming Deſcription of Aeneas's Shield. You will find too he loved Statuary [114] Muſick, and Architecture; and you may diſcern the ſame of Ovid, in a hundred Places. We ſee two Inſtances of his Skill in the Conteſt between Pallas and Arachne, and beſide, how nicely he un⯑derſtood the Art of weaving Arras. I am reading him over, juſt now. He has ſo many beautiful Stories, that I wonder you do not take more Delight in him, than you appear to do. You love Novels; and I never read any ſo beautiful as his, Pyramus and Thiſbe; Medea and Jaſon; Scylla and Minos; Cephalus and Procris; Ceyx and Alcyone; Perſeus and Andromeda; the Fable of Niobe; Pallas and Arachne; the Muſes and the Pierides; Meleager and Atalanta, and a Hundred more, are Stories the moſt exquiſitely told that are any where to be found, and are withal per⯑fect [115] Images of Nature. You may like⯑wiſe diſcern through all how the Poet is delighted with whatever is good and virtuous, worthy and laudable; and, on the other Hand, how he deteſts all kind Vice of and Wickedneſs, nay even every Degree of Rudeneſs and Ill-manners.

It is clear to me that Ovid was not only one of the greateſt Wits, and one of the beſt of Men, but one of the beſt-natured, beſt-humoured, and beſt-bred Gentlemen in the World. He wrote indeed with a Sort of Careleſſneſs, and his unhappy Baniſhment hindered him to correct his admirable Poem, the Meta⯑morphoſes; which has ever ſince continued the great Fund, whence Sculptors, Pain⯑ters, and Writers of Operas, and ſome [116] other Dramatic Authors have derived their Subjects.

Adieu, my Dear!

☞ This is a Sight, which, it is true I ſaw once; and therefore took care never to ſee it a ſecond Time.

LETTER XXV.

I Received your moſt agreeable Letter, of the 1ſt inſtant, with infinite Plea⯑ſure. Your Remarks on Homer are moſt agreeable and juſt; I muſt only obſerve that Idomeneus aſſiſting a wounded Sol⯑dier of his own Party, and inſulting an Enemy, are not at all irreconcileable. As to what you call a Slip of the Poet's Memory, I ſhall look into the Paſſage, and give you my Opinion in my next.

[117]I heartily agree with you in your Cen⯑ſure of Homer's making his Heroes ſo ſa⯑vage; and this brings into my Mind a Paſſage of Horace, ‘Aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus,’ that is, ‘The excellent Homer ſometimes nods, or is like to drop aſleep.’

In Alluſion to this, the great Earl of Roſcommon, ^* in one of his Poems, ſpeak⯑ing of Homer, ſays,

[118]I have much more to ſay, but not Time for it at preſent. I leave off unwillingly,

Je ſcaurois bien dire ce que dit u [...] Poete excellent;

[119]Hold! the Queſtion in your laſt re⯑mains unanſwered.

Though Juno put on the Ceſtus of Venus, ſhe ſtill continued Juno; and Jupiter did not take her for Venus, for ſhe was his Daughter. But Homer's Poems [...]re full of the Mythology of the Antients, [...]hat is, allegorical Stories. By the Ce⯑ [...]us of Venus are implied thoſe Charms [...]nd fine Accompliſhments, which make Woman lovely. Juno, in fine, laid down [...]l her jealous Fits, her Pride, her Ill-na⯑ [...]re, and Scolding, and put on Sweetneſs [...]nd Kindneſs, in their ſtead. If I remem⯑ [...]er right, the Poet alſo ſays, that ſhe dreſ⯑ [...]d after bathing, and waſhing all Impure⯑ [...]eſs from her Perſon; inſinuating hereby [120] how becoming is Elegance and Cleanli⯑neſs in either Man or Woman.

Encore adieu, ma chere! Je vous ſouffle dix Baiſers.

LETTER XXVI.

I HAVE juſt now received a Letter from you not dated. I wonder the Books ſhould have coſt you ſo much, eſpecially Homer. But I preſume you do not know where they may be cheapeſt purchaſed, or the Bookſeller has impoſed on you—No matter. You have the Authors for your conſtant Amuſement.

[121]You have given me a very particular Account, how you have laid out the Contents of the Draught; but that was more than I deſired. I only wiſhed to know how it had been chiefly beſtowed, not how you had laid out every Farthing. That had been the Exaction of a hard Dealer, not the liberal Claim of a Guar⯑dian and Friend. The more prudently you lay out your Money the better for yourſelf, and this was all the Satisfaction I required. I think, however, you have aſſigned all that is diſburſed to good Uſes.

I ſhall write again ſoon

LETTER XXVII.

THE laſt I wrote to you was ſhort, and this will not be much longer, it being the fifth Letter this Day, and I am accountable for the Diſpatch of as many more this Poſt. Pray deliver the encloſed without loſs of Time.

I hope to be in Town this Week, or the next at fartheſt, but let not that hin⯑der your writing to me as oft as you have Leiſure. If you have Nothing to write, write me that Nothing; for Nothing you can write will be unwelcome, and Nothing will even be welcome, if it look [123] like Something.^* It will ſhew, at leaſt, a kind Attention, and that is very valua⯑ble.

In my next I ſhall treat about Homer; and hope to have a Letter from you upon that Author; that is to ſay, a Continua⯑tion of your Remarks. This too I flat⯑ter myſelf I ſhall receive ſoon.

Give my humble Service to your Ma⯑ma and Aunt, and believe me to be,

LETTER XXVII.

I HAVE the Pleaſure of yours of the 21ſt inſtant; and am exceedingly pleaſed to find you have executed all my Commiſſions with ſo much Addreſs and Prudence.

You need not fear being troubleſome to the Lady, your new Acquaintance, if you go at proper Times. Obſerve the Diſpoſition the Family is in, and whe⯑ther Buſineſs, or any other Cauſe, may not make your Viſit unſeaſonable; which you'll eaſily diſcover; and in that caſe, let your Stay be ſhort. Take care too [125] always to leave a due Diſtance of Time between your Viſits. What I wrote you once before, I will write again, though it becomes almoſt unneceſſary now. Never give yourſelf Airs, nor ſhew Af⯑fectation, nor endeavour to ſhine as it is called. Talk modeſtly, within the Com⯑paſs of your Underſtanding, and if you don't court Praiſe, Praiſe will court you.

Before I enter upon Homer, let me obſerve, that you have omitted to men⯑tion the Figure Hector makes at the End of the Twelfth Book; where he breaks through the Grecian Entrenchments, like ſudden Night, and with Eyes burning like Fire, as the Poet expreſſes it. This is thought one of the moſt ſpirited Paſſages in the whole Work. It is incomparable [126] in the Greek, and not much ſhort of the Original in the Engliſh.

I am ſorry to tell you that I cannot ſee you ſo ſoon as I expected. It will not ſuit my Affairs to leave this Place for ten Days yet; but be ſure to write me often in that Time; that is, as often as your other Buſineſs will allow, and let Homer be the Subject of your Letters. I will write you as frequently as I can, and be⯑gin upon the ſame Subject.

I have juſt now entered upon Pope's Preface and Eſſay, to ſee whether ſome of the Particulars I have remarked are not in his Obſervations. Homer will fur⯑niſh us Matter enough to write about. I would rather have you ſend ſhort Let⯑ters, [127] and often, than long Letters, and ſeldom.

My kind Service to your Mama, Aunt, and Mrs. M——. I hope to dine with you on my Birth-day.

LETTER XXIX.

JUST now I have the Pleaſure of yours of the 28th. You mentioned a Paſ⯑ſage in the Thirteenth Book of the Iliad, which was the laſt, on that Subject. I [128] am juſt now reading the Obſervations on the Firſt Book. I hope to ſee you on Thurſday Night, or Friday Morning, and when I come, we ſhall compare Notes. I do not mean to be guilty of a Pun here, though it ſounds much like it.

I ſhall go to-morrow to a Gentleman's Houſe, about twelve miles from this, where I ſhall ſtay three Days, and thence ſet out for London.

My intended Viſit is not the Call of Buſineſs, but mere Matter of Ceremony, which you know I am not over fond of; yet I think it a kind of Duty to comply with it. The Gentleman was here for a Week, during which Time I converſed with him frequently. He is ſenſible, and his Character good. He preſſed me ear⯑neſtly [129] to give him my Company ſome Days at his Retreat, An earneſt Intreaty is a warm Compliment; and as my Pecu⯑liarity of Humour, namely a diſlike to Strangers, was my ſtrongeſt Objection, I held it incumbent on me, by the Rule of Politeneſs, to ſubmit my own Pecu⯑liarity to his. There are many Punctilios, which we ought to give way to, as Bre⯑thren of Society, if a more important Claim does not interfere.

Give my Service to the Perſons men⯑tioned in your Letter, and write me by next Poſt. After that, I hope to ſee you before you will have occaſion to write again.

LETTER XXX.^*

I WENT to Bed Yeſternight, that is to ſay, this Morning, about two. I was wakened about Five, and in the Coach near half an Hour after Seven. We got to Uxbridge before Twelve, where we took Breakfaſt; but I had wiſely drank [131] three Diſhes of Coffee, and eaten a but⯑tered Toaſt before-hand.

We arrived here before Five. We dined; and now after finiſhing the en⯑cloſed Letter, I write you this, deſiring you not to neglect the Encloſure. My Health is not clever, but I hope to ſleep well to-night, and then I ſhall be right again. To Children, and Perſons advan⯑ced in Life, Sleep is a Medicine for many Ills; and ſurely the pleaſanteſt of all Me⯑dicines. Did you ever read Shakeſpeare's Tragedy of Macbeth? if not get it, and ſend me your Opinion of it. I will tranſcribe his Paſſage on Sleep, which, for the luxuriant Variety of ſweet and no⯑ble Images, is ſcarce to be equalled.

What a Group of beautiful Images are here! Nor has the great Bard aſſembled them merely to indulge his fine Fancy; no, they are of a Piece with the great Action of the Scene, and anſwer an im⯑portant moral End; for by how much he endears to us the ineſtimable Bleſſing of Sleep, by ſo much he aggravates the atro⯑cious Crime of Murder, from the Com⯑miſſion whereof Macbeth is but juſt re⯑turned. Obſerve too the firſt Epithet which he gives to Sleep, innocent; it is very copious. It not only implies that Sleep is innocent in itſelf, that while we [133] ſleep, we are free from Guilt, but that Sleep moſt naturally dwells with inno⯑cent and undiſturbed Minds.

I have no doubt but I ſhall dream of you to-night for I have been dreaming of you all Day. I ſhall write you again on Sunday, and include a ſmall Miſſive to Mr. K—, which you will deliver when you think fit. Give my humble Service to your Mama and Aunt, and believe me to be moſt truly

LETTER VIII.

I Wrote to you from Wickham, which I hope is come to your Hand. I have little to ſay at preſent, only that I am well, [134] having arrived here ſafe and found on Saturday about three o'clock.

I have encloſed a Letter to Mr. K—, which you need not deliver till you have Occaſion for a Recruit of Caſh. I ſhall endeavour to get ſome Franks for you. Let me know when you meet with a Spencer to your Mind; though I think you have ſo many Books already to read and conſider, that you need not be over haſty.

Go on with your Obſervations on the Illiad, and write to me ſoon. When you ſit down to write, you ſhould be at Lei⯑ſure, have a Diſpoſition for it, have the Subject digeſted in your Mind, be in a chearful complying Humour, have a good Pen, good Ink, and good Paper, and [135] place yourſelf in an eaſy and convenient Poſture. All theſe Things will make you write ſo as to pleaſe, and even make the Hand itſelf more agreeable.

My humble Service to your Mama and Aunt, and be aſſured that I am,

LETTER XXXII.

I HAD the Pleaſure of yours of the 25th, the next Day after it was writ⯑ten. I have very little to ſay at preſent [136] and believe I ſhould not write at all till another Occaſion, were it not for the Pleaſure I take in converſing with you, and for fear you ſhould think I forget you, which I never do.

I greatly approve your not going to Mr. K—, till you have an abſolute Occa⯑ſion, for that was the Purpoſe of giving you the Credit. You know, my dear, young as you are, I have not ſcrupled to acquaint you exactly what I hold in truſt for you; and it would be Folly to laviſh away in Trifles what is meant for mate⯑rial Uſes; beſides you would neither have the Satisfaction nor Advantage that I in⯑tend, if you were to miſemploy your little Fortune. But I am counſelling one, who wants no Advice in theſe Points. My [137] Letter of Credit is not in Force till to⯑morrow; but you did not know that, and I am pleaſed you did not; as in that Caſe, your poſtponing your Claim had been the Conſequence of my Advice, which is now the Reſult of your own Prudence. Purchaſe the Capuchin you mention, if you have a Fancy for it, be the Price what it may. There is no Oc⯑caſion for a trifling Oeconomy in Matters which are real Neceſſaries of Life. To retrench in Superfluities is our chief Duty, and ought to be our conſtant Care. Were this Point generally attended to, I believe moderate Incomes would go much farther than they do at preſent.

Have you made the Improvements in your Apparel, which I recommended? Have you ſeen your agreeable Acquain⯑tance? [138] How does ſhe? How do your Aunt and Mother? Tell me all that re⯑lates to you, though in the moſt diſtant Degree.

I am juſt now going to read a Book of the Iliad that I may be the better enabled to converſe with you on that Subject.

Adieu, ma très chere petite Ange, et ſois bien et aſſurement perſuadée que

LETTER XXXIII.

I Should begin this Letter with Homer, and proceed in Form and Order, but I have ſo many Letters to write this Day, [139] that I dare not venture on it. I ſhall only mark out two or three Paſſages in the Fourth Book of the Iliad, which I have juſt now read, and which I think pecu⯑liarly fine.

The firſt is at Line 492:

The ſecond is at Line 516:

[140]Theſe are two fine Compariſons, and at the ſame Time, are noble Deſcriptions. I the rather quote them to you, becauſe you might poſſibly paſs them over, with⯑out regarding them ſo much, as you never ſaw the Originals, of which theſe De⯑ſcriptions are a Picture; but if you had ſeen them, as I have often done (being born and bred up all my younger Days in a very mountainous Country) you would own that nothing can be more natural or beautiful.

To underſtand the firſt Compariſon rightly, it is neceſſary to know that when the Lambs arrive at a certain Age, they are weaned, and put in a ſeparate Flock by themſelves. The Ewes are put in Folds to be milked. That reci⯑procal [141] Deſire which the Ewes and Lambs have to be together, makes them bleat inceſſantly, and, when within hearing, they regularly anſwer each other; thoſe Sounds the Hills-echo back, and fill the whole Valleys, or Glens (as we call them in Scotland) with a very agreeable Noiſe, even Muſick is ſcarcely more agreeable; at leaſt, to me.

How exceedingly fine is the Deſcription of Diſcord, Line 503, ‘Small at her Birth and riſing every Hour, &c.’

This is very judiciouſly placed where [...]he Grecians and Trojans, who were [...]early reconciled, diſſent again. The Colouring ſuits the Nature of Diſcord, or [...]trife, admirably; which often ariſes [142] from very ſmall Beginnings, perhaps from a meer Trifle; and to what a monſtrous Height does it ſometimes grow! It re⯑minds me of what Solomon ſays, ‘The Beginning of Strife is like the letting in of Water;’ for if we will make but a ſmall Paſſage for Water to enter at, it will itſelf enlarge it ſufficiently. We have this expreſſive Proverb in Scotland, ‘The Mother of Miſchief is no greater than a Midge's Wing,’ that is, a Gnat's Wing—intimating how ſmall a Circumſtance, how worthleſs and inconſiderable, may occaſion much Con⯑tention and great Miſchief.

[143]The Moral, on the whole is, Avoid Strife as much as poſſible, and, as the Apoſtle ſays excellently, ‘Seek Peace with all Men.’

P. S. I forgot to remark to you that the Deſcription of the Storm, and Tor⯑rents breaking down the Sides of the Hills, in the Twelfth Book of the Aeneid, are admirably painted.

LETTER XXXIV.

I HAD a Letter from you by yeſterday's Poſt, which gave me great Plea⯑ſure.

[144]I ſhould now begin to explain to you the Nature of the Iliad, the Odyſſey, and the Aeneid; but I do not know if you have yet made any Progreſs in the admi⯑rable Treatiſe on Epick Poetry, by Mon⯑ſieur Boſſu. If you have read, and mark⯑ed him attentively, I could omit many Things, as needleſs, and yet write a great deal more, that you would under⯑ſtand and be pleaſed with. But this would not be proper, before you have read that compleat Treatiſe, which un⯑folds the whole Art and Myſtery of the Epick Poem.

Mr. Pope, I think, ſays, that the Iliad points out the Effects of Anger; the Odyſſey thoſe of Patience and Wiſdom. The Effects of Anger and Reſentment, are [145] raſh, mad, and fooliſh Actions, tending to Miſery and Deſtruction. The Effects of Patience and long Suffering are well-adviſed Actions, terminating in the Ac⯑compliſhment of our Wiſhes and leading to Happineſs. Horace, who knew Man⯑kind as well, perhaps, as any Man, who lived before or ſince his Time, (except ſome few whom we meet in the Holy Writings) ſays, that "He who violent⯑ly haſtens his Revenge, renders the very End he would attain, ineffectual." The Iliad and Odyſſey are two great Examples of the Truth of this. In the former we ſee the Rage and Reſentment of Achilles and Agamemnon fruſtrate the very Deſign, for which they came to Troy; to wit, the Deſtruction of the Town. What Miſeries did they not occaſion? What loſs of gallant Men? And Achilles, who [146] even got the better in the Conteſt between him and Agamemnon, paid dear for it in the Loſs of his beloved Patroclus. What though he had the Satifaction, or rather Triumph, of killing Hector, (a much wor⯑thier Man than himſelf) yet that did not remove his Grief and Miſery; for, after that, we ſtill find him in the Agonies of Sorrow; ſo true is it, that even when our blind and mad Deſires are granted, we find ourſelves as far from Happineſs as we were before. Again, what did the Satisfaction of killing Hector coſt him? In the firſt Place, we ſee he was forced to forego the ſavage Pleaſure, he took in abuſing the Body of that illu⯑ſtrious Chief; in ſpite of his Teeth, as we ſay, Jove compelled him to forego it. He was even obliged to do honour to the [147] Corpſe. Furthermore we find his own Fate was attached to that of Hector. Hector told him, at his Death, ‘the Gods would not let his Death paſs unreven⯑ged.’ Apollo accordingly met Achilles at the Scean Gate, and revenged it home; and, to his utter Diſgrace, made him fall at laſt by a far leſs worthy Hand than that of Hector.

I ſhall take Notice of this Particular more at length, in ſome following Let⯑ter. All I ſhall add at preſent, is, that it is true we have not ſuch Thunder and Lightning, ſo great an Eclat, ſuch bold Characters, ſuch Force, ſuch Grandeur and Majeſty in the Odyſſey, as in the Iliad; yet the Arch-biſhop of Cambray obſerves, that the Antients, (at leaſt the beſt Judges and Criticks of Antiquity) do not give [148] the Iliad the Preference. I ſhall not re⯑peat what he ſays on that Head, but re⯑fer you to his own Words; they are in the Dialogues des Morts.

LETTER XXXV.

YEſterday's Poſt brought me yours of the 9th, in which your Hurry makes you leave out ſome Words, and miſplace others; this I wiſh you to guard againſt. It is a Neglect unworthy of you.

[149]Before you proceed in the Iliad, I muſt beg you to read Boſſu, at leaſt ſome Chap⯑ters in the Beginning of his admirable Treatiſe. They will give you a proper Idea of the Nature and Plan of this, and every other Heroick Poem. There is alſo a ſhort Diſcourſe on Epick Poetry prefixed to the laſt Engliſh Tranſlation of Telemaque, which is well worth your Attention; though I cannot agree with the Writer in preferring Telemaque to Homer and Virgil.

I do not recommend theſe Books, in order to make you a nice Critick, but to enable you to read ſuch Works as the Iliad, Odyſſey, Aeneid, Paradiſe Loſt and Tele⯑machus, with greater Pleaſure and Profit. You may add to the Liſt, Toſſo's Jeruſalem, [150] which I have juſt finiſhed (a fine Poem indeed, and admirably tranſlated) and Ramſay's Travels of Cyrus, about which we will talk when I come to Town.

There are ſeveral other Works, ſome of which you have, that will be of great Service towards forming a true Idea of thoſe noble Authors, and likewiſe of all other kinds of Poetry; ſuch as Ariſtotle's Art of Poetry, Roſcommon on Tranſlated Verſe, Horace, Vida, and the Duke of Buck⯑kingham's Art of Poetry, Rapin's and Da⯑cier's Diſcourſes on Eloquence and Poetry, Dryden's and Pope's Diſcourſes, Pope's Art of Criticiſm, the moſt excellent Arch⯑biſhop of Cambray's Diſcourſe on Eloquence, and the Spectators on Milton. Congreve's Letter on Humour is alſo moſt excellent and [151] judicious, ſo are Dr. Trapp's Diſcourſes on Virgil. Theſe Writings will give you a true Notion of Tragedy, Comedy, Satire, Paſtoral, Ode, Elegy, and Song, as well as of Epick Poetry; which laſt indeed, together with Tragedy and Comedy, are the three great Species of Poetry.

I will now ſuppoſe that you have formed, or procured, a right Notion of the Nature of an Heroick Poem, and of the Action; that it muſt be one great, in⯑tire, marvelous, but not incredible Piece; of a juſt Length, inſtructive and enter⯑taining; I will preſume likewiſe that you have a Notion of the Characters, Man⯑ners, Sentiment and Diction, and of the ornamental Aid of Figures, Epiſodes, Deſcriptions, and Similes or Compariſons, [152] by which thoſe Characters and Manners are ſet off to Advantage.

This being all pre-ſuppoſed, let us en⯑quire what Homer propoſes to do in his two matchleſs Poems, and then examine the End and Tendency of that Propoſi⯑tion.

We will begin with the Iliad. Mr. Pope ſays, that the Subject of the Iliad is the ſhorteſt, that ever was undertaken, name⯑ly, the Anger of Achilles. Mr. Dryden, if I am not miſtaken, ſays that Virgil's Propoſition or Subject, is far preferable to the former. The one is the Anger of Achilles, the other is the Eſtabliſhment of a noble Empire, the nobleſt, perhaps, that the World ever ſaw.

[153]Now I cannot agree altogether either with Pope or Dryden; for, in the firſt In⯑ſtance, it is not the Anger of Achilles, ſim⯑ply conſidered, that Homer propoſes for the Buſineſs of his Poem, but the Delays, Diſappointments, and Calamities, which attended the Greeks in Conſequence of the Anger and Reſentment of Achilles. This is the Plan which he lays down, and on which he promiſes to proceed; and the particular Moral, that naturally ariſes from it, is the moſt proper and uſeful that could be offered to his Coun⯑trymen. The Grecians were compoſed of many little States; it was therefore their Intereſt to be unanimous, and cloſely united, when engaged in a common Cauſe. How apt then was his Moral! He wiſhed them to learn that their Safety [154] conſiſted in their Union, and that Diſ⯑cord and Diſſenſion would be their Ruin; this was in the Courſe of Time, actually verified. Philip of Macedon overthrew and enſlaved them; and the Means he purſued to bring it about, was firſt by ſowing Diſſenſion among them, and di⯑viding one State from the other. So divided, he found them an eaſy Con⯑queſt. The ſame Thing has happened a thouſand Times ſince, not only in ſove⯑reign States and Kingdoms, but even in private Families. One of our Saviour's Tenets, is, ‘A Kingdom divided againſt itſelf cannot ſtand;’ and this is the grand Moral, which ariſes out of the particular Subject of the Iliad.

In the next Place, if we conſider the Tendency of the Poem, I do not ſee but [155] it may be deemed of as great Conſequence as that of the Aeneid, though it may not be ſo ſpeciouſly agreeable. The Tendency of the one is to ſhew by what Means, De⯑grees, and worthy Qualities, a mighty Empire was founded: The Tendency of the other, to point out the Miſconduct, the Vices, and Follies, by which a great Undertaking was almoſt ruined (and in⯑deed had been entirely ſo, but for an ex⯑traordinary Accident) and the whole Force of Greece overpowered. This laſt is ſurely as uſeful a Leſſon as the firſt; and ſtrictly juſtifiable in Homer, in-as-much as he propoſed to write another Poem, wherein he was to demonſtrate the great and good Effects of Virtue; for ſuch is the Purport of the Odyſſey.

[156]I think it is Mr. Addiſon, who ſays that, beſide the grand particular Moral, that ariſes out of an Epick Poem, or that which the Poet had chiefly in view, there are many others, which con⯑tingently reſult from the Fable. This is certainly true; it appears manifeſtly in Homer; and perhaps it was as much his Intention to ſhew theſe, as the great Mo⯑ral above-mentioned. In my enſuing Letters I will occaſionally mark out ſome of theſe, and deſcribe what I conjecture to be the greatuniverſal Intention of the Author. At preſent, I fear I haved tired you, ſo ſhall trouble you no more for two or three Days.

LETTER XXXVI.

I HAVE ſome few Remarks to make in this Letter, on the Sixth Book of the Iliad, but they are very few. Pope has given us ſo many fine Obſervations, that little is left for any other Pen. You have alſo contributed to leſſen what I might have had to ſay, by ſending ſome of your own, which I am much pleaſed with.

The Speech, which Hector makes to his Mother, is admirable;

The four laſt Lines are peculiarly beau⯑tiful, and conform to that Place of Holy Scripture, where David, being "A Man of Blood," was not allowed by God to build him a Temple.

All that paſſes between Hector and his Wife is beautiful beyond Compariſon, eſpecially his laſt Reply;

Throughout the whole Work, Hector's Piety towards God, his conjugal and paternal Affection, his Love to his Coun⯑try, his filial Duty, and his Reſignation to the Will of Providence, are placed in a moſt glorious Light.

The following Compariſon in the Seventh Book,

is inimitably pictureſque; but you will ſay you never ſaw ſuch a Scene in your Life, and much of the Beauty it thereby loſt.

I will only mention one more favourite Paſſage of mine, in the Eighth Book, and ſubjoin a Tranſcript of ſome few Verſes of Iſaiah, which it is worth your while to compare with it.

[161]Iſaiah, Chap. i. ‘To what purpoſe is the Multitude of your Sacrifices unto me? ſaith the Lord. I am full of the burnt Offerings of Rams, &c.’

What a Smilitude between the Poet, and the Prophet!

LETTER XXXVII.

BY yeſterday's Poſt, I received yours of the 14th, but cannot much com⯑mend the Writing. I do not deſire you to write me, when you are in ſo very great a Hurry; rather put it off, till you have more Leiſure.

I ſhall not trouble you with a long Letter of Particulars at preſent, but give you my Opinion of the Iliad in general.

Beſide the great Moral thereof, there are many other Things which the Con⯑duct of the Poem was meant to ſet forth. [163] We are ſhewn the ill Effects of unlaw⯑ful Love, vain Glory, Pride, Injuſtice, Breach of Faith, Diſſimulation, Cowar⯑dice, Covetouſneſs, &c. for Inſtance, in Paris, Agamemnon, Aſius, Pandarus, Do⯑lon, and many others. Hence as the particular Intent of this wonderful Poem, is to ſhew the fatal Conſequences of Diſ⯑ſenſion and Anger among Princes, ſo the main and general Deſign ſeems cal⯑culated to point out the bad Effects of ungoverned Paſſions and Appetites in all Mankind; to ſet forth, that our giving way to them leads into Sin, that one Sin leads into another, and the whole into Miſery and Puniſhment.

The great Moral ariſing from it, is, (to give it you in the Greek) ‘[164] [...].’ that is to ſay, "So the Counſel of the Gods was perfected, or fulfilled." This is the very Beginning of the Iliad, and Mr. Pope has tranſlated it, ‘Such was the ſov'reign Will, and ſuch the Deom of Jove.’

But Homer is much ſhorter, more ſim⯑ple, and ſublime; for [...] does not only ſignify Will, but Counſel, and wiſe Deter⯑mination; hereby teaching us that Miſery is the Conſequence of ill-governed Paſ⯑ſions; and according to the ſtated Nature of Things, it muſt be ſo. How agree⯑able is this to the Spirit of the ſacred Scriptures, where it is ſaid,

I was very well pleaſed the other Day when I found the above Sentence called, in Pope's Notes, the grand Moral of the Poem; for, in Truth, though I had al⯑ways thought ſo, I did not know that any one had ſaid it.

LETTER XXXVIII.

I Wrote to you yeſterday, and having now a leiſure Afternoon, I ſhall con⯑tinue the ſame Subject.

[166] Homer ſhews us there is a neceſſary natural Connection between giving way to our inordinate Appetites and Affec⯑tions, and tranſgreſſing our Duty to God and Man; and thence a conſequential Tendency to Miſery and Puniſhment. It is in this Senſe that one of the minor Prophets fays, "Is there Evil in the City, and the Lord hath not done it?" teaching us thereby that no Miſchief or Evil befalls an impious City or People, but what happens by the wiſe Counſel and Will of God.

There are two Ways, whereby the great Author of the Iliad ſhews us the Connection between Miſery and Sin, and between Sin and inordinate Affections. The one is, the natural Connection we [167] have before obſerved; the other, the immediate Vengeance of God proceed⯑ing from his Diſpleaſure. Of theſe we [...] without Number, both in [...] and [...] Holy Writings: for [...] the P [...]gues of Aegypt are ſuch a [...] Paral [...]el, that one would almoſt [...] Homer had copied from Moſes. [...] and Madame [...]acier have obſerved, that the Gradation of Puniſhments re⯑lated by Moſes, is imitated by the other; and in both, the long Suffering and Goodneſs of God is remarkable. In the Iliad, firſt the Dogs, then the Fowls of the Air, then the Cattle, laſtly, the Peo⯑ple themſelves were ſmitten with the Darts of Apollo. In the Scripture, the Lice, the Locuſts, the Flies, &c. pre⯑ceded the cutting off the firſt-born. But [168] I need not ſay more on this Head, only refer to the Paſſages; and indeed many other Poets, as well as Homer, abound with Examples of this Kind.

The next Thing to be pointed out, my dear, is, how admirably the Greek Poet has made inordinate Affections be⯑get Offences to God, and Injuries to Man; and how naturally and clearly he has made Miſeries and Puniſhments ariſe out of the former. But I will not de⯑tain you longer now, than to with you Health and Happineſs; and that you may improve theſe Things, not leſs to your Advantage, than to your Pleaſure.

LETTER XXXIX.

I Wrote you on Friday the 17th, and thought I might poſſibly hear from you on Sunday, but perhaps my Letter did not come Time enough to your Hand.

Mr. Pope has obſerved, that, through the Iliad, Homer has, in a Manner, made every thing done by Divine Providence. Some Deity always aſſiſts the Hero who gets the better, except Ajax alone. When Hector breaks through the Grecian Wall, and ſets fire to their Ships, Jupiter aſ⯑ſiſts him. When he is killed, Jupiter [170] has abandoned him, and Pallas aſſiſts Achilles. In a Word, in all Encoun⯑ters, and in all Actions, where any Point is to be gained by Valour, Cou⯑rage, or Wiſdom, the ſupreme Power aſſiſts; in Defeat and Diſappointment, that Power deſerts them. How con⯑formable ſtill to the holy Writings, where God is ſaid, "To put Wiſdom into the Heart, to ſtrengthen it;" and on the contrary, "To make blind, and to harden the Heart."

Virgil has often ſaid, that ſuch and ſuch an Event came about by Chance, by the Viciſſitude of Fortune, and by the Inſtability of human Affairs. Perhaps he meant the ſame with Homer, (ſince he has often mentioned the Fates, or Decrees [171] of the Gods in very expreſs Terms) though his Meaning is not ſo clearly pointed; but Homer is peculiarly ſtrict in his Expreſſions, for he always makes the Will or Counſel of the Supreme to be the Diſpoſer of every thing; by which we may learn what worthy Sentiments he had of the true God, and that all Things muſt be regulated by his wiſe Counſel, howſoever they may appear mere Chance to us, who, by reaſon of our human Blindneſs and Weakneſs, can neither foreſee nor avoid Thouſands of Events, that fall out every Day and every Hour.

This, perhaps, you will reckon a Digreſſion, and it is ſo; but it opens [172] the Way to what I ſhall write you in my next.

P. S. After writing the above, I have received yours, and ſhall anſwer it to⯑morrow or next Day.

LETTER XL.

HOMER's Intention, as I have ob⯑ſerved before, is to ſhew us that inordinate Affections lead to Sin, and Sin to Miſery. He gives us a hundred [173] Inſtances to prove this, but the chief is, The Wrath of Achilles ^*.

Beſide the Inſtances themſelves, the beautiful Order and natural Connec⯑tion, in which he diſpoſes them, fully illuſtrate his Propoſition; and, from the whole Tenor of his Story, this Conclu⯑ſion naturally ariſes, that the Counſel and wiſe Diſpoſition of God is fulfilled in every thing. Mr. Pope has ſhewed this in his Notes on many particular Paſſages throughout the Iliad; but if we take a ſhort View of the Fable or Story, [174] we ſhall then ſee it in the cleareſt Light.

Though the Author begins with the Wrath of Achilles, yet, in the Courſe of his Works, he takes care to ſhew us the Source of all the Miſeries which he has painted in his moſt admirable Poem.

Paris was a Youth of royal Blood, beautiful and amorous; he ſung and played; he ſeduced from her Huſband the moſt beautiful Woman in the World, perhaps as amorous as himſelf. Her Huſband, who had hoſpitably enter⯑tained him, reſents this Uſage : he aſks the Aſſiſtance of his Friends, and the neigh⯑bouring States. They ſail to Troy, de⯑ſtroy [175] the Country, and, at laſt, ſit down before the Town. The Daughter to the Prieſt of Apollo was made a Captive. Her Father goes to redeem her. Aga⯑memnon refuſes his moſt juſt Suit, threatens and ill-treats him. The Prieſt complains to his God, who ſends Plagues firſt upon the Grecian Cattle, then upon the People. The Cauſes hereof are en⯑quired; the Prophet is afraid of the King, but being aſſured of Protection from Achilles, proclaims aloud the Cauſe of the Diſpleaſure of Heaven. Aga⯑memnon inſults him. Hereupon a Con⯑teſt enſues between Agamemnon and Achil⯑les, wherein they ill-treat each other. Agamemnon threatens to take Achilles's Captive, Briſeis, from him, and actually does it; on which Achilles refuſes to [176] fight for the Grecians. The Trojans ob⯑tain many Advantages by this Refuſal. A Duel is propoſed by Paris, and ac⯑cepted on the Terms propoſed. Mene⯑laus is treacherouſly wounded. The Trojans refuſe to reſtore Helen, or ſtand to the Terms agreed on; and though Priam was certainly of the ſame Opinion with Antenor, that ſhe ought to be given up, yet, through Indulgence to his Son, he ſubſcribes to a Breach of the Agreement. Hereupon Battle on Battle enſues. Both Greeks and Trojans are miſerably deſtroy⯑ed; and conſequently many Proofs are given of Courage, Wiſdom, Piety, Con⯑ſtancy, Patience, Friendſhip, and Com⯑paſſion, as alſo of Cowardice, Raſhneſs, Brutality, Vanity, Cruelty, and almoſt of all Virtues and Vices. The ſeveral [177] Incidents are managed with great Ad⯑dreſs. Honourable Embaſſies are ſent to Achilles to return to the Service of the Greeks. He is inexorable till Hector kills his Friend. This gets the better of his Reſolutions; he returns to the Fight, from a Principle of Revenge, and kills Hector.

LETTER XLI.

IN my laſt I gave you a ſhort Sum⯑mary or Argument of the whole Fa⯑ble of the Iliad; which is ſo nicely connected, one Incident or Circumſtance [178] ſo naturally and orderly depending on ano⯑ther, that each Part ſerves to ſtrengthen and illuſtrate the other; and the whole leads to a Demonſtration of the Author's firſt Propoſition, to wit, that the Wrath of Achilles occaſioned many and grievous Miſeries to the Greeks. Hence we are taught, that Strife and Diſſention, as I have obſerved before, are the certain Ruin of any common Cauſe, State, Kingdom, or Family; that inordinate Affections lead to Vice; that Vice increaſes in its Courſe, inſomuch that one Sin, if I may be allowed the Expreſſion, begets ano⯑ther; and conſequently, ſuch Perſons as give way to their Paſſions and Luſts, be⯑come gradually degenerate, fall from bad to worſe, till they are irrecoverably plun⯑ged in Guilt and Unhappineſs.

[179] Homer ſhews us alſo, that the Wrath of God hangs over the Head of the wicked, whether a Nation, King, or private Perſon. God ſends his Judg⯑ments upon them, withdraws his Aſſiſ⯑tance, fights againſt them, ſends judi⯑cial Blindneſs and Hardneſs of Heart upon them, and aſſiſts their Enemies to overthrow them; who, in executing the ſecret Will of Heaven, are them⯑ſelves, ſometimes, guilty of the ſame Crimes he made them the Inſtruments to puniſh, and are, in their Turn, chaſ⯑tized.

On the other Hand, he ſhews how much good Men, engaged in a righ⯑teous Cauſe, are favoured by Heaven. The Way to obtain this Favour he points [180] out to be by ſupplicating, and ſerving God, and the Return to be made by Thankfulneſs and Praiſe.

In my next I ſhall illuſtrate all this from the Summary of the Poet's Fable.

LETTER XLII.

I Received your Letter written on Chriſt⯑mas-Day, and wrote to you the Day after that Date, but I had ſealed mine before yours came to hand, ſo did not chuſe to open it.

[181]I told you in my laſt except one, that Homer's Purpoſe in his Iliad is to ſhew us that inordinate, ungoverned, unreſtrained Paſſions and Appetites are the Means of leading us into Sin, and conſequently in⯑to Miſery; and that the Order and Con⯑nection of the Story helps to ſet this Po⯑ſition in the ſtrongeſt Light. I gave you likewiſe a ſhort Sketch or Argument of the Iliad. Now let me comment a little on it, and we ſhall thereby not only ſee Homer's great and accurate Judgment, but diſcover ſome very valuable Truths, on which if we will well obſerve, and im⯑prove, happy will it be for him or her who does it.

The Source of all this Miſchief, the Deſtruction of Troy, and of the whole [182] royal Race of that Kingdom, of infinite Woes and Miſeries to their Allies, as well as to the Grecians, was an unlawful Amour. The Cauſe which Homer aſſigns, to wit, The Wrath of Achilles againſt Aga⯑memnon, is but an intervening, not the original Cauſe. The Seduction of Helen, and Breach of Hoſpitality, in carrying her off during her Huſband's Abſence, that Huſband who had entertained the Seducer kindly, who was a Perſon too of ſuch Diſtinction, no leſs than a King, theſe, I ſay, were the original Source of all thoſe Woes and Devaſtations.

Here we cannot but admire the Judg⯑ment of Homer, and the Excellency of his Fable.

[183] Paris was a King's Son, Helen a Queen, two of the handſomeſt Perſons in the known World. Homer would teach us herein that handſome Men and Women are ſubject to much greater Inconvenien⯑cies of this kind, than others. Such a Man has great Advantages over the fair Sex, and ſuch Women are more liable to Flattery, and the Danger of having their Morals ſpoiled by falſe Suggeſtions of in⯑triguing Men; who never fail, when they meet with a Woman of Virtue, to endea⯑vour to reaſon her out of it, before they can hope for Succeſs. Not half ſo much Pains is ordinarily taken on Women who are but homely; and we ſee daily that more fine Women are ruined, than others.

Homer choſe for his Purpoſe two Per⯑ſons of ſuch exalted Condition, ſo highly [184] bred, alike poſſeſſed of ſome Virtues, and yet made the Crime very black for the following Reaſons:

Had they been Perſons of mean De⯑gree, or abandoned Principles, they would not have made ſo deep an Impreſſion on our Minds; nor ſhould we have had that Care or Concern, at leaſt, not that Pity for them, which, in the preſent Caſe, we feel every now and then, to return upon us.

If Paris had been a downright Ruffian, and Helen a low diſſolute Wretch, they could not have been of any Uſe to the Poet then, or to us now. What can be learned from two People quite ſunk in Debauchery? But theſe, though bad enough, had yet great Remorſes; at leaſt [185] Helen; and Paris was not a Ruffian, though he was a Seducer. Now where ſome good Qualities are mixed with bad, where Virtue and Sin ſtruggle together, and ſometimes Honour, ſometimes natu⯑ral Frailty, gets the better, the Poet can ſhew Human-kind as it is, and place it in a very inſtructive Light; otherwiſe, he cannot.

It was abſolutely neceſſary to make the Crime very provoking, and the Perſon injured of a very diſtinguiſhed Character, elſe the Poet could not, with any due Probability, have brought all Greece to⯑gether in Arms, to revenge the Injury. Had Helen been a Perſon of mean De⯑gree, Kings and Princes would not have leagued together to reſent her Huſband's [186] Wrongs; had the Injury been ſlight, it could not have borne a Quarrel; nor could Homer have vindicated his Greeks, whom he is ſo fond of, nor the Gods themſelves, had he built his beautiful Poem on a ſlight Event. Again, if Paris had been of low Extraction, whom could the Greeks fight againſt? Not Troy—for the whole State and their Allies could not have engaged in the Defence of one who was leſs then a King's Son. In the one Caſe, Homer could not have had his Greeks to fight, in the other, he could nor have had the Trojans to fight againſt. On the whole, therefore, I hope you will agree with me, that the Bard was moſt judicious in chuſing two Perſons of great Diſtinction, of great Beauty, and guilty of a great Crime, to be the Originals, [187] whereon to found his excellent moral Poem.

LETTER XLIII.

I Have the Pleaſure of yours of the 22d, and am very glad to hear you are in good Health. I preſume both your Aunt and Mother are well, ſince you mention nothing to the contrary.

It would be very agreeable to me that you write of the Odyſſey. Your laſt Let⯑ter on Homer was of the 14th of Decem⯑ber; ſo that Correſpondence has been [188] long ſuſpended. In my next I ſhall re⯑ſume my Obſervations on the Iliad; but ſhall now contract them as much as poſſible, there being many Things in Mr. Pope's Remarks, which anti⯑cipate what I ſhould otherwiſe have obſerved.

I did indeed expect a longer Letter from you, at leaſt two or three ſhort ones—a Method that I ſhall purſue hereafter. Nothing damps the Spirit, wherewith a Correſpondence ſhould be kept alive, ſo much as neglecting to write a little, becauſe you have not Leiſure for a great deal. Remember this Maxim, and purſue it.

[189]My humble Service, and believe me to be, my dear little Angel,

LETTER XLIV.

PUrſuant to my Promiſe of yeſter⯑day, I ſit down to give you only a ſhort Letter. I now return to Homer.

I would have you read over my for⯑mer Obſervations on this Subject, when you peruſe this Letter. In the tenth Year of the War between the two Na⯑tions, we have ſeen the Greeks ſit down [190] before Troy. Homer's Poem begins here, and the Circumſtance wherewith he opens it, is the Diſſention which happens be⯑tween Agamemnon and Achilles. This fa⯑tal Difference had almoſt ruined the Greeks. It aroſe, you remember, from Agamemnon's Refuſal to accept Ranſom for the Prieſt of Apollo's Daughter, only becauſe he loved her better than his own Wife. He affronts the Prieſt, abuſes and threatens the Augur Calchas, calling him a falſe Interpreter of the Will of Heaven. Hereupon a Quarrel ariſes be⯑tween the King and Achilles. They inſult and defy each other, till, in the End, Aga⯑memnon takes from him his Captive Briſeis.

What we have to remark on this Event is well worth Notice: we ſee Aga⯑memnon [191] fall into the very Crime which he came to revenge. How highly na⯑tural! There is nothing more common in ordinary Life, than to ſtumble into the ſame Faults and Errors, for which we condemn others. How blind and par⯑tial are we to ourſelves! How quick-ſighted to thoſe around us! Both Men and Women are equally culpable in this Reſpect. You remember Congreve's Amoret,

LETTER XLV.

THOSE human Frailties I was upon in my laſt, Partiality to ourſelves and Uncharitableneſs to our Neigh⯑bour, are the Cauſes of more than half the Miſchief that happens in the World. Hence it was, that our Saviour perpe⯑tually preached the Non-Reſentment and Forgiveneſs of Offences. Nothing can ſo much contribute to the Peace of Man⯑kind. To return to Homer.

We ſee this inordinate Affection in Agamemnon betrayed him into Paſſion, Rudeneſs, and Injuſtice; and theſe [193] brought on Miſery. What Inſults did he not undergo? What ſtinging Re⯑proaches did he not endure? To what Grief, Shame, and Repentance, was he not expoſed? In what Calamities did he not involve his Army? How was he conſtrained to court and ſue to Achilles? And how were his Supplications reject⯑ed, and his Proffers ſcorned? Here is a natural Connection between his Crime, and the ſad Effects of it.

Obſerve likewiſe, his Crime was not only puniſhed in its own Conſequences, but by the abſolute Interpoſition of Hea⯑ven. The Plague is ſent upon the Greeks, and Burials are heaped on Bu⯑rials. This is exactly conformable to what our holy Religion teaches; name⯑ly, that one Sin naturally draws on ano⯑ther, [194] and that the End and Wages of Sin, are Death or Miſery. Beſide this inherent Puniſhment, God ſometimes ſends immediate Vengeance. Being eſ⯑ſentially merciful, he begins with milder Judgments; but upon Obſtinacy and Impenitence he pours forth the Fullneſs of his Wrath. In Pope's Notes, you ſee the Conformity of the Procedure in this Plague, to that inflicted on Pharaoh.

It is obſervable, that Agamemnon fell into a Crime of the ſame Nature with that of Paris, but not near ſo heinous in Degree: the Puniſhments therefore were only proportionable, Troy was ut⯑terly deſtroyed, for the atrocious Crime of that People, and their obſtinate Con⯑tinuance in it. The Greeks ſuffered ſe⯑verely, [195] but were not deſtroyed; for-as-much as their Crime, or Perſeverance therein, was not ſo flagrant.

We gather alſo from this excellent Poem, that People are oft involved in the Vices and Puniſhments of their Princes. A wicked King is not only a Plague in himſelf to his Subjects, but, in his Sins, he calls down Judgments upon them. This is confirmed in the Scriptures, as well as in Homer. For in⯑ſtance, in the 2d Book of Kings, Chap. xxiv. we read,

The holy Writings teach us that Chil⯑dren are puniſhed for the Faults of their Parents. Homer ſhews us the ſame.

We often ſee Children unaccountably (as far as Appearance goes) involved in the Faults of their Parents, and ſuffering on their Account; it appears ſtrange, at firſt, but on due Reflection, we muſt al⯑low there is nothing more natural, in the common Courſe of Things, than that the Sins of a Parent ſhould fall heavy on a Child. There is ſuch a Connec⯑tion between them, the one is ſo much a [197] Part of the other, that this Conſequence can hardly be avoided; at leaſt, in many Inſtances.

The Scriptures teach us, that God makes one People the Inſtrument of his Ven⯑geance on another, and again contrary-wiſe. ‘Ephraim ſhall deſtroy Manaſſeh, and Manaſſeh Ephraim;’ and it is ſaid to the People of Iſrael,

Nothing can be more natural or more juſt, with reſpect to two guilty Nations. Homer enforces the ſame; the Trojans and Greeks are both guilty, but not [198] equally; they are both puniſhed, but not equally; only in Proportion to the Size and Aggravation of their Crimes, and they were made reciprocally the Means of each other's Puniſhment. Through the whole Bible, particularly in the Prophets, and more eſpecially in Iſaiah and Jeremiah, this Doctrine is ſtrongly inculcated.

How amazingly great then is Homer! We find a Heathen, through the Strength and Juſtneſs of his own Conceptions and Sentiments, agree almoſt in every Point with "the Word of God." And by the Tenor of the whole, his grande Morale is fully evinced; namely,

[199]I wiſh you Health and Happineſs. Believe me to be,

LETTER XLVI.

I'LL let Homer ſtand ſtill a while, and give you a ſhort Deſcription of Oxford.

On the Road from London, we come firſt within Sight of the City, at about two Miles Diſtance, on the Top of a pretty high Hill, called Shoot-over-Hill. Here we have a View of the River, with [200] the plain Country embanking it, and on either Hand a Range of Hills. The Ri⯑ver below Oxford is called the Thames, but at Oxford there are two Rivers, that on the Weſt is called the Iſis, that on Eaſt the Cherwell. The one comes from the North, the other, to wit, Iſis, from the North Weſt. They meet at Oxford, which ſtands in the Point between them, on a little riſing Ground, ſurrounded with Rivers and Meadows on the Eaſt, Weſt, and South, and with fine Corn Fields on the North. Beyond thoſe Meadows and Rivers are two Tracts of pretty high Hills, covered with Paſture, Corn, and Woods intermixed. When you come within View of the Town from Shoot-over-Hill, it ſtrikes you very agreeably with a great Number of public Build⯑ings, [201] ſuch as Churches, Colleges, Schools, the Theatre, Printing-Houſe, Dr. Rat⯑cliffe's Library, &c.

Juſt as you enter Oxford from London, you croſs the Cherwell by a Bridge, thence aſcend gradually to the Middle of the Town; then you deſcend as gradually, till you come to the Iſis, over which you paſs by ſeveral Bridges. The many Ca⯑nals, into which theſe two Rivers have been cut, have been the Occaſion of ſo many Bridges about Oxford.

Their private Buildings are but ordi⯑nary; but the great Number of public Buildings, the Squares, Avenues of Trees, the Gardens, Groves, fine Walks, and beautiful Country around, make it a [202] moſt delightful Place in Summer. The Streets, for the chief Part, are clean and dry.

This Deſcription, though but faint, is enough to give you a Sort of Taſte of the Beauties of Oxford. If you wiſh to be more particularly informed, let me know, and I will do the beſt I can to ſatisfy you. I ſubjoin a Sort of Sketch or Plan of Oxford ^*, as well as I am able to give it. I ſhould have told you that the two Rivers are very unlike each other; the Cherwell is deep, flow and muddy, with many Turnings and Wind⯑ings, the Banks overgrown, conſequently [203] the Water not eaſily to be come at in many Places. The Iſis has a ſtrait Courſe, runs pretty ſwift, the Water clear, the Bottom gravelly and firm, and the Banks ſmooth, clean, and diſengaged from Woods or Shrubs.

LETTER XLVII.

I Received yours of the 1ſt of this Month on the Day thereafter, and in Return will endeavour to gratify your Curioſity reſpecting this City.

[204]The Univerſity here is one of the moſt famous in the World: it is a Place for Education in all the liberal Sciences. For this Purpoſe, there are no leſs than ſeventy Colleges, and five or ſix Halls, where Inſtructors in theſe reſpective Branches reſide; namely, for Divinity, Logic, Phyſic, Anatomy, Aſtronomy, Law, Rhetoric, and Languages. Each of theſe Colleges is a Building by itſelf, and many of them are very ſtately. Each is likewiſe a ſeparate Society by itſelf, governed by its own Laws and Cuſtoms, under its own particular Charter; and the whole, incorporated into one great Body, is called the Univerſity. Hence they derive great Privileges. The City of Oxford is ſubject to them: they ſend Members to Parliament; and every Col⯑lege [205] has a particular Founder, as a King, Queen, or other diſtinguiſhed Perſonage.

Thoſe who have built and firſt ſettled Endowments on Colleges, are called the Founders; thoſe who have left Sums of Money, Lands, or Books, ſince their Foundation, are ſtiled Benefactors.

The Halls were originally Buildings belonging to ſome particular Colleges, though ſeparated from them, and were erected for the Conveniency of lodging Students, when the Colleges were too much crowded; or for the Reception of the Sons of great Men, who did not like to be confined to ſtrict College-Hours. But now Things are altered. [206] Some of the Halls have been turned into Colleges, and others are wholly inde⯑pendent of them.

You deſire, perhaps, to know the Dif⯑ference between theſe Buildings.

A College is a Body corporate within themſelves, who have a Charter of their own, and can buy and ſell, take and en⯑joy by Gift or Legacy, in their own Name. The Charter is a Grant from the King.

A Hall has one Head or Chief, in the ſame Manner as a College, and, like that, is alſo a Part of the Univerſity. It has its own Rules, Orders, and Govern⯑ment, but no Charter, conſequently is [207] not a Body Corporate within itſelf. The Society poſſeſs no Lands nor Rents, nor can they take and enjoy, like a College, in their own Name. When any thing is given or bequeathed for their Uſe, they cannot hold it themſelves, but muſt lodge it in the Univerſity for their Uſe.

There are many good Schools in Lon⯑don, but not an Univerſity. The Reaſon is plain. London is a Place of great Hurry and Buſineſs, full of Temptations and Avocations. Oxford is a retired Place, ſurrounded with Gardens, Woods, Groves, Hills, Meadows, and Rivers. ‘Theſe Scenes the Muſes haunt, and Phoebus loves.’ at leaſt ſo the Poets tell us.

[208]Adieu, ma Charmante; et ſoyez bien perſuadée que je ſuis tant à vous que vous etes à moi. Faites mes Com⯑plements à Madame votre Mere et Tante, et M. M.

P. S. I forgot to mention to you the public Schools and Libraries, the fine Theatre, the Printing-Houſe, and Mu⯑ſeum, the Place where the Rarities are kept. There is a Chief, or Head, in every College and Hall. In ſome he is called the Maſter, in others the Principal, in others the Provoſt, and in Chriſt Church he is called the Dean.

LETTER XLVIII.

I TOOK Notice to you formerly, that not alone the fine Moral, and the great and important Subject of Homer's Poem was to be admired, but alſo his judicious Manner of conducting it, and the Beauty of the whole Contexture of his Fable or Story; whence it is not only pleaſant as well as profitable, but from being pleaſant, it makes a deeper Impreſſion on our Memories, and we re⯑collect it with continual Satisfaction^*.

[210] Homer has made uſe of wonderful Stra⯑tagems for this Purpoſe. The Enume⯑ration of the Ships, the Names of the Commanders, the geographical Deſcrip⯑tion of the ſeveral Countries they came from; the characteriſtic Diſtinction of the Leaders; the nice Plot contrived to give us an Idea even of the Make and Shape of their Perſons, in bringing Helen [211] to deſcribe them to old Priam; the en⯑gaging of Paris and Menelaus firſt, then of Ajax and Hector, in ſingle Battle; the manifeſt Advantage he gives to Me⯑nelaus, and a ſort of Advantage to Ajax, though not great; the Trojans breaking [212] the Truce, wounding Menelaus, and re⯑fuſing to reſtore Helen—All theſe ſerve to vindicate the Greeks, and aſcribe Blame to the Trojans.

Obſerve that, though ſeveral of the Grecian Heroes have, now and then, the Advantage over Hector, yet he, in his Turn, has the Advantage over every one of them. This is, that the Poet may give the greater Honour to Achilles, who is the only Man deſigned at laſt to con⯑quer Hector; and not even then without the Aſſiſtance of a Deity, nor till Heaven had abandoned Hector. We ſee too that Hector, though the beſt Man among all the Heroes, either Greek or Trojan, and the Man whom Jupiter loves for his Piety and other Virtues, was yet involved [213] in the common Calamity. He fought, 'tis true, from Love to his Country and Family, but he fought on the wrong Side. How agreeable this to the holy Scripture! There we find national Sins draw down Judgments on ſuch particu⯑lar Perſons as are, no Matter by what Means, involved therein.

The Caſe of good old Priam ſeems to be the ſame with that of good old Eli. Though Priam approved not of his Son Paris's Crime, yet he was indulgent to him, and did not compel him to do Juſ⯑tice. Herein his Default was parallel to that of Eli, of whom the Lord ſays to Samuel,

It is worth your while to read this whole Chapter and that preceding it.

In Mr. Pope's Notes you will read the ſeveral Inſtances of Homer's Judg⯑ment in the whole Conduct of his Story, ſo I need not repeat them. I ſhall men⯑tion only two.

You know it is a Proof of great Judg⯑ment in a Poet, to ſuit every Circum⯑ſtance with Propriety, and to make his Perſonages act in Character. There is an Inſtance of the former, when Homer, to relieve us from the Fury of a Battle, [215] brings in his Heroes in a ſort of Parley, as that between Glaucus and Diomede, to which I refer you. Another Inſtance is in his fit Diſpoſal of Time, as Mr. Pope has obſerved, in that buſy Night, which preceded Hector's breaking in upon the Grecian Intrenchments.

To illuſtrate his Perſons acting up to Character, conſider the Care and Con⯑cern Neſtor is in, when the Embaſſy is ſent to Achilles. You know the Embaſ⯑ſadors were Ulyſſes, Phoenix, and Ajax. Obſerve their different Characters, their different Modes of Behaviour; the dif⯑ferent Impreſſions their Speeches made on Achilles, and the different Treatment he gave them. Again, obſerve the dif⯑ferent Demeanour of the Grecian He⯑roes [216] on that melancholy Night, when (as the Poet expreſſes it)

All this is worthy to be remarked with the utmoſt Care. It is admirably fine, and proves to what a great De⯑gree Homer has kept up to what the Critics call MORES, the MANNERS.

By way of Poſtſcript to my Let⯑ter of this Day, I ſhall add a few Lines.

[217]You ſee, through the whole Iliad, that the Gods always refuſed the Pray⯑ers and Supplications of wicked Men, eſpecially thoſe who continued in their wicked Courſes. I need not quote Ex⯑amples. We ſee the ſame verified in many Paſſages of the Scripture, and it is confirmed by no leſs an Author than Our Saviour.

The great Moral of the Iliad was con⯑firmed by the ſad Experience of After⯑times; and one would almoſt think that Homer had foreſeen for Philip of [218] Macedon, as well as the Kings of Syria and Perſia. The Romans, after taking Advantage of the Diſſenſions that aroſe among the Greeks, or of thoſe they ſow⯑ed among them, themſelves fell a Prey to other Nations at laſt; and this will certainly happen to be the Caſe of the United Provinces one Time or other, unleſs they continue to be more wiſe and virtuous than any States ever were, united in the ſame Manner as they are.

Now, my dear, I ſhould be glad you would let me know what you next wiſh to converſe about in this Manner. As I read Homer through, I ſhall hint to you ſuch particular Beauties as I occaſionally meet.

[219]You do not tell me whether or no you have the little Eſſay on Epic Poetry before your Telemaque. Be ſure to write me what you like beſt in the Odyſſey, as you read it; but don't confine your⯑ſelf to that, and read it only when you pleaſe. To reliſh what we read, and profit by it, we ſhould ſit down to it with an Inclination.

Adieu, ma très chere Nannette, et ſoyez perſuadée que je vous aime tant que j'aime mes yeux.

LETTER XLIX.

I DARE ſay you are beginning to be weary of Homer, as well as you love him, and of the many Obſervations we have made, therefore we will drop him after this and my next Letter—at leaſt for ſome Time, and find another Subject for our epiſtolary Converſation.

In the mean Time, pleaſe to obſerve that when Achilles was reconciled to Aga⯑memnon, it was not either that his Anger was abated, or that the Love of his Country or his Countrymen got the bet⯑ter [221] of it, but another Piece of Reſent⯑ment and Deſire of Revenge got the bet⯑ter of the former, as it was incompati⯑ble with the other. And this new Re⯑ſentment of his was ſtill more furious than the firſt, and much more unrea⯑ſonable; for certainly Hector was in the right to kill Patroclus; and though Achil⯑les might lament the Death of his Friend, yet there was no Reaſon for his exer⯑ciſing ſuch a brutal Paſſion againſt a fair Enemy.

You will find this very agreeable to the Accounts we have in the Holy Scrip⯑tures of the Diſpenſations of God, who makes every thing, even the Sins and Follies of People, contribute to advance and bring about the Completion of his [222] ſacred Purpoſes and Will. It ſtill ſerves too to illuſtrate his grande Morale, which he never loſes Sight of, ‘ [...].’

The Jews, when they cried out againſt our Saviour, Crucify him, crucify him, little dreamed that they were forwarding the Salvation of Mankind; nor had Ju⯑das any ſuch Deſign when he betrayed him; neither did the High Prieſt know the grand Import of his own Words, when he ſaid, ‘It was expedient for one Man to die for the People.’

Thus Providence puniſhed the Greeks by the Fierceneſs of Achilles; and by that very Fierceneſs ſaved them, when re⯑conciled to them. Many are the In⯑ſtances [223] of this Kind in the ſacred Writ⯑ings. David ſays,

Another Thing very well worth ob⯑ſerving, and which is ſtill a great Proof and Illuſtration of the Truth of the above Moral, is this: Homer never brings any great Event to bear, any fortunate Act to be performed, or noble Virtue exer⯑ciſed, without the Aſſiſtance of a divine Power. When his Heroes fail, it is be⯑cauſe the Gods have forſaken them. Do they ſucceed? It is becauſe the Gods are with them. Do they act prudently? The Gods inſpire them. Do they act fooliſhly? [224] The Gods blind them. But then it is as obſervable, that this is the Reſult of their own Conduct and Principles. There is a Something in their Minds which renders them either dear or de⯑teſtable to the Deities. This is agree⯑able to the whole Tenour of the Old Teſtament, as you may read in an hun⯑dred Inſtances of the Kings of Iſrael, Juda, Syria, &c. &c.

Laſtly, you ſee the Means of ac⯑quiring the Favour of the Supreme was, next to a virtuous Life, beſpeaking him by Prayer. This is the Practice of all Homer's great Men; and the Succeſs of their Undertakings was always accom⯑panied with Sacrifices of Praiſe and Thankſgiving. This was underſtood to [225] be an indiſpenſable Return of Duty and Gratitude to the Gods. When Hector eſcapes ſafe from Diomede, the latter cries out,

And Jupiter ſays, in more Places than one, when ſpeaking in Hector's Favour, ‘That he had offered many Sacrifices to the Deities.’

Thus as theſe Heroes imputed the Eſcape of their Enemies to ſome God, ſo when they expreſſed their Hopes of getting the better of them, they are fre⯑quently accuſtomed to ſay, ‘If ſuch or ſuch a God aſſiſt me.’ Herein they conformed to the Phraſe in Scripture; ‘They did not put their Truſt in their [226] own Swords or Bows.’ Virgil has given us an Inſtance of an Hero, 'tis true, who did put his Truſt in his own Strength. I mean Mezentius. ‘My own right Hand (ſays he) is my God, and the Dart I am going to throw.’ But Virgil took Care beforehand to re⯑preſent him a moſt impious Wretch, and a Tyrant, and makes his End ſuitable to his bad Character.

Now, my dear, fearing I have ſuffici⯑ently tired you, I will add no more, but that I am

LETTER L.

THIS ſubſequent Letter may more properly be ſtiled a Poſtſcript to to the foregoing; wherein I forgot to obſerve to you, that when the Purpoſe of Heaven was fulfilled by the Reſent⯑ment of Achilles againſt Hector, the for⯑mer was checked in his Career before the half of his Reſentment was ſatisfied. He had doomed the Body of Hector to be without Burial and funeral Honours; to be left a Prey to Dogs and Vultures; but Jove and the other Gods would not permit that. Hector was dear to them on Account of his Piety. Jove would [228] have him buried honourably, and Achil⯑les was obliged to let go his Hold. Herein the Reſidue of his Wrath was reſtrained, Heaven having no further Uſe for it; and herein alſo is verified another Paſſage in Scripture,

LETTER LI.

I SAID, in a former Letter, that I had done with Homer, but I find I have not.

In order to make his Morals, or the Application of his Doctrine, reliſh bet⯑ter, he has beautifully diverſified his Story. He has introduced many Epiſodes that are very delightful: for Example, that which Glaucus tells to Diomede, that which Phoenix tells to Achilles, that which Neſtor relates, and many others. Ob⯑ſerve too, they are always told in a [230] proper Place, and always recommend ſome Virtue, or arraign ſome Vice.

Many of his Epiſodes and other Sto⯑ries have alſo the ſame Tendency with the great Deſign; that is to ſay, to ſhew the ill Effects of Diviſion, Reſentment, and obſtinate Revenge, particularly that of Phoenix to Achilles; or to ſhew us that inordinate Luſts, Affections, or Ap⯑petites, lead to Sin and Miſery; or to il⯑luſtrate the grande Morale, ‘That God's Will muſt be accompliſhed, and his Counſel muſt ſtand.’ And by conti⯑nually mixing theſe Stories in his Work, he calls up our Attention to the great Purpoſe of it.

Beſides this great Purpoſe, he gives us occaſional Precepts; Inſtances of what [231] is fit, decent, prudent, and of their Con⯑traries. He ſets before our Eyes many beautiful and uſeful Things in Nature, as of the Heavens, the Earth, rural Labours, Winter, Summer, Harveſt, Rocks, Mountains, Rivers, Seas, &c. as likewiſe of artificial Things, name⯑ly, of War, Peace, Commerce, &c. But I refer you to what Mr. Pope has ſaid hereon.

The laſt Thing that I ſhall deſire you to obſerve, is this. Though the main Deſign of the Iliad is to ſhew us that Mi⯑ſery flows from Sin, and Sin from un⯑bridled Appetites, yet he therein pre⯑ſents us with many Inſtances of Happi⯑neſs and Succeſs flowing from doing our Duty; and contrary-wiſe in the Odyſſey, [232] though the main Tendency of that Poem be to ſhew that Happineſs ſlows from a Diſcharge of our Duty to God and Man, (which is the Conſequence of ſubduing our Paſſions) yet he mixes, in the Courſe of his Story, frequent Inſtances of Mi⯑ſery ariſing out of Sin.

To conclude—I fancy to myſelf that I ſee Homer, like a moſt renowned old Philoſopher, or one of the ancient Pro⯑phets, preaching to his Countrymen in this Manner—"Learn, O my Country⯑men, that all Unhappineſs proceeds from Sin, and Sin proceeds from inordinate Affections. Learn that all Happineſs proceeds from Virtue, and Virtue from hearkening to the Dictates of Reaſon; that in the one Caſe God will aſſiſt you, [233] in the other, deſert you. To obtain his Aſſiſtance, you muſt depend on him; you muſt aſcribe all to him that you do well; you muſt apply to him by ſer⯑vent Prayer; and not that alone, but you muſt leave Vice and embrace Virtue, otherwiſe God will not hearken to you, though you make many Prayers; and when he bleſſes and aſſiſts you, you muſt render him the Sacrifice of Praiſe and Thankſgiving."

"To confirm the firſt of theſe my Doc⯑trines, I will tell you a Story of the Wrath of Achilles, and the Quarrel that happened between him and Agamemnon, ſupreme Leader of the Grecians, at the Siege of Troy; which, beſides confirm⯑ing my firſt Doctrine, will plainly prove [234] that Diviſions and Diſſenſions among People united in a common Cauſe and Intereſt, though they may conſiſt of many little independent States and Sovereign⯑ties, muſt probably be the Ruin of them all. This may be the Caſe of Greece; and you may be ſwallowed up by ſome great Prince or other, if Diviſions be raiſed and encouraged among you."

"To prove my ſecond Doctrine, to wit, that bridling your Paſſions, acting with Patience, Prudence, and Piety, and con⯑ſequently having God to favour you, will lead you to Succeſs through the greateſt Difficulties, I will tell you a Story of the Travels of Ulyſſes. And from both you may derive this important Truth; name⯑ly, that every thing whatſoever is or⯑dered, [235] diſpoſed, governed, conducted, and eſtabliſhed, by the all-wiſe, all-pow⯑erful, and immutably-certain Will of God, and muſt be brought to the Period that he has ſet and determined."

If you have Creech's Horace at Hand, read the ſecond Epiſtle of his firſt Book of Epiſtles. It is inſcribed to Lollius. You will ſee there in what View he con⯑ſiders theſe two Poems.

LETTER LII.

I AM highly gratified in ſeeing you take ſo much Delight in the Iliad; particularly in the moral Doctrine in⯑culcated throughout that excellent Poem.

[236]By the Earneſtneſs wherewith you de⯑ſire me ſtill to continue my Remarks, it ſhould ſeem as if you conceived there were no other Author fit to be the Sub⯑ject of our epiſtolary Correſpondence. There are many more. Some you have ever at Hand. If you would now and then read the Proverbs of Solomon, Ec⯑cleſiaſtes, the Wiſdom of Solomon, and of Jeſus the Son of Sirach, with the Arch⯑biſhop of Cambray's Dialogues, Fables, and Lives of the Philoſophers, they could not miſs to furniſh you with Abundance of Reflections, equally proper for Writ⯑ing and Converſation; and this they would do without its being neceſſary that you ſhould comment on every Paſ⯑ſage you read there, or write down every Reflection that preſents itſelf; only ſuch [237] as moſt ſtrongly and naturally affect you.

I am pleaſed with your Obſervations on many of Homer's Beauties. I have gone through the Author, as I have ex⯑amined them. Theſe added to thoſe of Mr. Pope, who has been ſo copiouſly excellent, leave very little for me to ſay; but I will oblige you wherever I can. Nothing has occurred to me till now, with the 9th Book open before me. It would be endleſs to point out every Paſ⯑ſage I think excellent; I ſhall only confine myſelf to ſuch as I fancy will admit ſome particular Remark or Illuſtration.

The Complaint againſt Jove, at Line 25, is what Mankind in general is too [238] guilty of. We lay to the Charge of God what is our own Fault. Jeremiah ſeems to have been exactly in this Predica⯑ment, when he ſays, "Why art thou to me as a Lyar? &c."

At Verſe 47, Diomede ſays to Aga⯑memnon,

He recollects the Reproach caſt on him in a former Book, though at that Time he made no Reply to it. Hence we learn to take Care what we ſay; for though we may fancy an Expreſſion for⯑got, it may return, and be of bad Conſe⯑quence, when we leaſt expect it.

[239]Verſe 225, Neſtor ſays,

This is agreeable to what our Saviour recommends, "When thou prayeſt, en⯑ter into thy Cloſet, &c." and David ſays, "I will waſh my Hands in Innocency, and ſo will I compaſs thine Altars, O Lord."

In the Beginning of Book the tenth, obſerve with how much Propriety Aga⯑memnon is employed, then Menelaus, Dio⯑mede, Neſtor, and Ulyſſes. The Wiſdom of Diomede in chuſing Ulyſſes for his Companion, together with the whole Tranſaction of that Night, point out [240] the great Uſe of taking Advice and Aſ⯑ſiſtance in an arduous Enterprize.

LETTER LIII.

NEptune's Progreſs to aſſiſt the Greeks, in Book the Thirteenth, is admirably deſcribed; and Mr. Pope has ſhewn us the Affinity between that and a Paſſage in the ſixty-eighth Pſalm, but there are many other Places in the holy Writings wherewith it may be compared. It would be endleſs to enu⯑merate them: they will occur to you in your Peruſal of that ſacred Volume, which is abſurdly given as a Taſk-Book [241] to Children indiſcriminately of all Ca⯑pacities, when it is an Exerciſe for the moſt adult and experienced Under⯑ſtanding^*.

If I may be excuſed for ſaying it, I think there are ſome few Faults in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation and Notes in theſe two Books. In Book xiii. Verſe 890, ‘His troops unpractis'd in the Fights of Stand,’ is ſurely a ſtrange Expreſſion.

[242]Mr. Pope's Note on Hector's Reproach to Paris, Verſe 964, ‘Ill-fated Paris, Slave to Womankind, &c.’ is not accompanied with his uſual Judg⯑ment. Hector indeed is bold and impa⯑tient—ſo far he may reſemble Achilles, but he is neither violent nor unjuſt. Though he was impetuous, yet we ſee, through the whole Book, that he was manageable. Achilles never was; and had not Hector Cauſe, during the Courſe of the War, to be highly offended at Paris?

Book xiv. Verſe 290,

The latter Part of this Tranſlation I could wiſh not quite ſo low; though it is pretty near the Original, which ac⯑tually [243] ſignifies throwing the Gods about, &c. It reminds me of an Expreſſion in Lee's Oedipus, ‘Gods meet Gods, and joſtle in the dark.’

I ſhall write you again on Friday. Je ſuis, avec mes Complements, ou ils ſont dues, le votre,

LETTER LIV.

I HAVE now re-peruſed the 15th and 16th Books of the Iliad. Your own Obſervations on theſe are remarkably good; therefore I have very little to ſay.

In Verſe 86. Book xv. the Swiftneſs of a God Compared to that of the Thought of Man, is inimitably beautiful. Mr. [244] Pope has juſtly remarked it, but a much inferior Genius could not have over⯑looked it.

In Verſe 428, we find Neſtor placing the Confidence of his Prayer in his Piety towards the Gods, which confirms one of Homer's great moral Rules, and which I have touched upon in a former Letter.

Book xvi. Verſe 9. This Simile is ex⯑tremely ſtriking. Literally rendered from the Greek it would run thus,

‘No Child that runs after its Mother, and holds her faſt by the Robe, and hinders her from proceeding, and looks up in her Face, weeping to make her take it in her Arms, &c.’ [245] You cannot imagine how beautiful it is in the Original.

In Verſe 40. Homer now makes the ſame Implication in the Perſon of Pa⯑troclus, that he did formerly in the Per⯑ſon of Phoenix; namely, the Obſtinacy of Achilles, and the ill Conſequences thereof. This is an Epitome of the whole Scope of the Poem, which, as Mr. Pope remarks, Homer every now and then introduces, to fix our Attention to his great Deſign.

In my preceding Letter I endeavoured to diſtinguiſh the Diſpoſition of Hector from that of Achilles. In Verſe 122. we have a ſtrong Inſtance of the ſavage Tem⯑per of the latter. How unlike the pious Hector!

[246]Verſe 837. This Deſcription of Pa⯑troclus, beſides being admirably beauti⯑ful, conveys an excellent Moral.

I have juſt received yours, but have not yet had Time to read it all. Adieu, juſqu'á Dimanche.

LETTER LV.

SINCE I wrote you laſt, which was on Friday, I have peruſed two Books more of the Iliad, accompanied with your Obſervations.

[247]The Conflict at Verſe 418. Book xvii. about the Body of Patroclus is wonder⯑fully fine. How naturally is it compared to Fires, that riſe and ſink by Turns! Homer ſeems fond of the Image him⯑ſelf, for he repeats it in Book xviii. In⯑deed the whole Struggle, from the Time Patroclus was killed, till Achilles appear⯑ed, is moſt admirably deſcribed.

Book xviii. Verſe 7.

This Picture of Achilles is moſt affect⯑ingly fine. But here I will preſume to ſay we may prove Mr. Pope to have been wrong in his Remark on a former Book, where he avers, "It was Jealouſy of his [248] Honour, that made Achilles lay his Com⯑mands on Patroclus not to fight with Hector." We ſee here that he im⯑mediately imagines him to have been ſlain; whence it appears more probable, that his warning him to ſhun Hector's Force, was from Apprehenſion of the Con⯑ſequences, not Jealouſy of the Motive.

Verſe 547. Here are four admirable Lines. The Deſcription of the Shield is admirable throughout. What Mr. Pope himſelf has ſaid about it, and what he has quoted from others, will, in great Mea⯑ſure, give you a true Taſte of Sculpture and Painting, and deſerves to be read often.

LETTER LVI.

I HAVE now gone through another Book of Homer, and made the follow⯑ing Remarks.

Book xix. Verſe 57. Achilles confirms the Obſervation I formerly made; name⯑ly, that it was not the Love of his Country, but a new Reſentment, that incited him; and though he preaches here againſt Reſentment and obſtinate Fury, yet it is obſtinate Fury which here poſſeſſes him, and actually makes him preach againſt it.

[250]Verſe 81. Agamemnon in his Speech confirms your Obſervation, laying the Blame of his Folly on Fate, and the Gods, and thinks thereby to clear him⯑ſelf of the Imputation. I think the Story he tells here, though to the Purpoſe, might have been ſpared. Mr. Pope ob⯑ſerves very juſtly, that Homer always regards due Decorum. He makes Achil⯑les riſe, but Agamemnon ſit ſtill.

Verfe 281. Here Achilles imputes the Blame of his own Folly to Jove, as Aga⯑memnon did before; and herein, as in other Inſtances, it may be ſaid that Ho⯑mer means to remind us of the great Ten⯑dency of his Poem; for he tells us, it was the high Will of Jove that doomed their Strife, and doomed the Greeks to fall.

[251]Book xx. Verſe 335. I think what Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus has ſaid in this Note is very reaſonable, and as ſtrong as any thing Mr. Pope has ſaid againſt it. How the Fact really was is hard to know at this Diſtance of Time.

I ſhalt finiſh what I have to ſay on the Iliad in two more Letters, I believe, and hope to conclude this Week.

LETTER LVII.

AT the Beginning of Book the Twen⯑ty-firſt, the Deſcription of the Flood endeavouring to drown Achilles is the Produce of a vaſt Imagination. The Compariſon at Verſe 14, is admira⯑ble, as is alſo the Conflagration, and the Effect it had on the Fiſhes.

But, with Submiſſion, I think all the Scuffle between Juno and Diana. Verſe 558, very ridiculous.

Verfe 608. This Compariſon, and the Note upon it, proves, what I have often [253] obſerved, a Conformity between Homer and our Holy Scripture.

Book xxii. Verſe 221. A further Con⯑firmation how dear are pious Men to God.

Verſe 278. Read the Notes here. Me⯑thinks Mr. Pope or Euſtathius overacts the Defence of Homer in this Place^*. They explain the ſupernatural Aſſiſtances which Achilles receives, into Allegory; yet af⯑firm the like, when ſhewn to Hector, to be real, merely to favour, or rather to ag⯑grandize the Valour of Ajax and Achilles.

[254]Verſe 628. Here is ſurely one of the moſt beautiful Paſſages in the whole Iliad; and what Andromache obſerves and complains of, we find verified to this Day. It ever has, and will be ſo.

The Lamentations of Priam, Hecuba, and Andromache, in this Book, and thoſe of Hecuba, Helen, and Andromache, in the laſt, are all different; they ariſe from dif⯑ferent Motives, and each Perſon utters what immediately belongs to his or her Character and Circumſtances; a further Proof how judiciouſly Homer has pre⯑ſerved the Manners throughout his Poem. It is again evinced in Book xxiii. Verſe 41. The Behaviour of Achilles in this Place how very conſiſtent! The Appear⯑ance of the Ghoſt of Patroclus, and all that paſſes, is extremely fine.

[255]In the Detail of Prizes given to the Racers, at the funeral Games, obſerve the following Lines;

Do they not imply, with many other Paſſages in this Poem, that Women, how beautiful ſoever, are not prized, without ſome uſeful and laudable Qua⯑lification?

Verſe 369. Here we have a beautiful Picture of an old Man inſtructing his Son how to win the Prize; and we alſo diſcern with what an extenſive Genius Homer was bleſſed; for the Rules that Neſ⯑tor gave, being univerſally uſeful, are as much in Force now as they were then.

[256]The Obſervation on Line 817, by Madame Dacier, and Pope's ſubjoined Sneer, are, in my Opinion, equally non-ſenſical.

The Note on Verſe 973, beginning at theſe Words, ‘But alſo his Deſign might be to compliment the Greeks, &c.’ is by no Means juſt, and even contradicts what the Author has often ſaid of Ajax.

To return to the very firſt Note on this Book, I cannot concur with Mr. Pope's Opinion in Defence of Homer's Conduct, in carrying on his Work for two Books after the Death of Hector. He urges that Homer's Undertaking was to de⯑ſcribe the Anger of Achilles, and as that [257] Anger did not die with Hector, but per⯑ſecuted even his Remains, ſo the Poet ſtill keeps up to his Subject. But Mr. Pope, with Deference I ſpeak it, is miſtaken; it is not ſimply the Anger of Achilles, that is Homer's Subject, but that particular Anger and Reſentment which was ſo deſtructive to Greece, and took Birth from his Diſſenſion with Aga⯑memnon. This Subject, after the Death of Hector, is entirely exhauſted, and the Revenge then purſued is of a different Nature from the Wrath which Homer un⯑dertook to ſing; for inſtead of being deſtructive, it then becomes advantageous to the Greeks.

In my next I ſhall give you my Opi⯑nion of the Reaſons which induced the [258] Author to protract his Work beyond the Death of Hector. I thought to have done it here, and ſo have finiſhed this Sub⯑ject of our Letters, but the Aſſizes are now held in this City. Some Gentle⯑men from London engage my Time, and an Acount I have juſt received of the Duke of Hamilton's Death unnerves my Spirits.

Your laſt is come to Hand; the Mat⯑ter and Hand-writing pleaſe me infinitely.

Adieu, my deareſt. I will write again on Sunday.

LETTER LVIII.

I HAVE now read the Iliad to an End, and have but few Remarks to make on the two laſt Books.

Book xxiii. Verſe 41.

Theſe two Lines are a juſt Picture of the Nature of the reſpective Animals. How characteriſtically affecting is the laſt to a tender Mind!

Ver. 120. Here are eight fine Lines, and they ſhew us what was the Creed at that [260] Time. The laſt, I think, much exceeds the Original.

Theſe two Notes eſcaped me when I wrote laſt, as many other Things do; and indeed Mr. Pope's Excellence in Criticiſm has left very little in the Power of any ſucceeding Commentator. I ſel⯑dom repeat to you what he has ſaid, unleſs I think it ſo remarkable as to de⯑ſerve your peculiar Attention.

I now proceed to the twenty-fourth Book, and ſhall conſequently very ſoon put an End to this Subject, which has entertained us ſo long.

Verſe 5. This Deſcription of Achilles's Lamentation is admirable, though the [261] Lines 17 and 18, are not, in my Judg⯑ment, ſo full and ſo expreſſive as in the Original, which is as follows, if literally rendered:

Verſe 291. This is an exceeding na⯑tural Picture of a Perſon, particularly one in Years, overwhelmed with Grief. Mr. Pope's Note is moſt judicious, and well worthy Attention. There is no⯑thing more common than for a Parent, in the firſt Tranſports of Affliction, to prefer a Child that is dead, to all who remain alive.

[262]I have done now with particular Re⯑marks; and though we have dwelt on this Subject ſo long, I yet feel a Deſire to communicate my general Sentiments, I mean my Opinion of Homer's continu⯑ing his Poem beyond the Reconciliation of Achilles with Agamemnon. Perhaps I may not expreſs myſelf ſo well as to be underſtood, or my Arguments may ap⯑pear too ſubtle; not ſolid enough. Be that as it may, I ſhall expect an impar⯑tial Account of your Senſe of them, and what your Sentiments really and unre⯑ſervedly are on the ſame Point.

But this in my next, and then adieu, Homer!

LETTER LIX.

IN theſe my general Sentiments on our great Bard, I muſt be very frank, and the rather to induce you to be ſo in your Anſwer. I profeſs myſelf of a dif⯑ferent Opinion from Mr. Pope, concern⯑ing the Reaſons which induced Homer to carry on his Work beyond the Death of Hector. I am apt to think the true Reaſon was, that the Poet had many more beautiful Things to ſay, which he was unwilling ſhould be loſt; and truly I am glad they were not. But then the Queſtion is, whether he has done [264] judiciouſly in protracting the Work, ra⯑ther than to cloſe it with the Death of Hector, as Virgil has finiſhed the Aeneid with that of Turnus.

To form a right Judgment hereon, we ſhould conſider the Subjects of the reſpective Poems; that is, what thoſe two great Poets propoſed by them.

The Subject of the Aeneid is the At⯑chievements as well as Sufferings of Aeneas, till he brought about a Settle⯑ment in a new Kingdom, for himſelf, his Family, and the People in Italy. To the Accompliſhment of all this there was no Obſtruction but the Rivalſhip of Turnus; conſequently, on his Death, all [265] is compleated. There was no need to carry the Work further; though one Maſshoeus has added a thirteenth Book, wherein Aeneas is married to Lavinia. But this is ſuperfluous. The great Obſta⯑cle being removed, the Poet leaves us to imagine all the reſt. What he had pro⯑poſed was entirely fulfilled; to wit, all the Sufferings his Hero had to undergo with Seas and Winds, with Men and Gods, and all the croſs Accidents he had to wreſtle with, and bravely ſubdue by his Patience or Exploits. But it is not ſo in the Iliad. The Poet there pro⯑poſes to ſing the fatal Conſequences of the Reſentment of Achilles. It was therefore very juſtifiable in him to carry on his Work beyond the Time that Reſent⯑ment laſted. If it ought to have ended [266] with that, there was no Need to make him kill Hector; for that Event fell with⯑out the Period of his Reſentment to Agamemnon, which is the Ground-work of his Poem. But the Poet certainly deſigned to ſhew not only the ſad Diſaſters that befel the Greeks through the Re⯑ſentment of Achilles, but to give ſtill a ſtronger Impreſſion of the bad Effects of Diſſenſion among Chiefs, as well as other Perſons, whoſe Intereſts are united. He paints the great Change of the Grecian Affairs for the better, on his Reconcilia⯑tion with the Leader of the Greeks. The Ships are ſaved, Hector is killed, the Tro⯑jans are repulſed, and driven within their Town. What follows, namely, the dragging the Coarſe of Hector round Troy, the Grief and Behaviour of Achilles on [267] the Loſs of Patroclus, the Inſtitution of the Games at his Funeral, all this is in order to compleat the Character of his Hero; to ſhew us his Virtues as well as his Vices. He makes him an extra⯑ordinary Perſon both Ways; and yet of vaſt, nay of abſolute Importance to the ſucceſsful Iſſue of the War. He has probably given him this mixed Charac⯑ter, as a Leſſon how Princes and Rulers ought to manage Perſons of great Impor⯑tance, who have ſtrong Qualities, both good and bad; ſo that they may turn the former to their Advantage, and, by a cautionary Prudence, divert any bad Ef⯑fects from the latter.

To point out the Importance of Achil⯑les ſtill ſtronger, it was neceſſary to ſet [268] forth that of Hector. Though this is done throughout the whole Work, while Hector lived, it is not ſufficient. The Poet does not ſtop there. The Circum⯑ſtances of his Death, the Lamentations of his Father, Mother, Wife, Siſter, He⯑len, and the whole People, the Beha⯑viour of the Grecians, and indeed Achil⯑les's own Speech, after he had killed him, render him ſtill more important, than all that had been ſaid or deſcribed of him before.

Add hereunto the Approbation in which he was held by Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury, and almoſt all the Gods; their Reſent⯑ment at Achilles on his Account; their compelling the Body to be delivered up to honourable Burial, and Achilles himſelf lifting it on the Bier.

[269]I am apt to think that Piety, which Homer has all along recommended, was the great Leſſon he propoſed to incul⯑cate, by this laſt Book. The Praiſes of Hector for his Piety occur ſo thick, and the Concern of the Gods for his Death is ſo ſtrongly painted, that one would be tempted to believe Hector was as much his Hero as Achilles, only of another Kind; and though the Poet condemns the Cauſe he was concerned in, and makes him ſuffer for it, yet he ſeems to be more in Love with him, than with his profeſſed Hero. He does ample Juſtice to his Virtues, and ſeems to make him, much rather than Achilles, a Pattern for Imitation.

[270]Remember you are to ſend me your free Opinion on all I have ſaid. I don't deſire you to write very long Letters. Write two or three ſhort ones at dif⯑ferent Times, and then put them all under one Cover.

LETTER LX.

I Received your Favour of the 14th, but have not yet laid in Proviſion for a Letter on the Odyſſey. I have at laſt [271] read the two Plays you deſired me, Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nice.

The Man of Mode, or Sir Fopling Flut⯑ter, was firſt written. The Author was a high-bred Gentleman; his Characters are well drawn; the Dialogue is eaſy, natural, and genteel; there is a great deal of Wit and good Senſe in the Con⯑verſation among the principal Characters, eſpecially between Dorimant and Loveit, and between the ſame Gentleman and Harriet. Old Bellair is very entertaining; he is good-natured, pleaſant, open, and ſincere: in a Word, he is a downright Country Gentleman, of the beſt Sort.

If I miſtake not, the Spectator, long ago, cenſured this Play, as being built [272] on a wrong Foundation; for, ſays he, "the End of it is to promote Vice." Dorimant, his fine Gentleman, is a Wit, well bred, of excellent Senſe, and ex⯑tremely engaging, but totally devoid of Faith and Honour. Harriet, the fine Lady, is perpetually deſpiſing her Mother. The Scene of the Orange-Woman and drunken Shoemaker is too groſs, and ought not to have been brought into ſuch polite Company. A Lady of good Qua⯑lity, and a fine young Heireſs, lodging in an Orange-Woman's Houſe, is, I think, wrong judged; and Dorimant af⯑firming his Intention of marrying Harriet was to repair his Fortune, is, in my Opinion, out of Character; unleſs that, as a Rake, he thought Shame to own that he was really in Love; but, [273] ſurely, even that is driving the Rake too far for Dorimant.

The Spectator, after having remarked ſome Paſſages in this Comedy, adds, ‘This whole celebrated Piece is a per⯑fect Contradiction to good Manners, good Senſe, and common Honeſty. Nothing but being loſt to a Senſe of Innocence and Virtue can make any one ſee it, without obſerving more frequent Occaſion to move Sorrow and Indignation, than Mirth and Laughter.’ He had great Reaſon indeed for what he ſaid. The Sufferance of ſuch immoral Pieces perverts the true Intent of the Stage, which was meant to be a Place of inſtructive Amuſe⯑ment, not empty Diſſipation. That Mr. [274] Addiſon conſidered it in this Light, is evident, from the two Pieces he gave to the Theatre, Cato, and the Drummer. The Growth of licentious Pieces is principally, if not altogether, to be aſcribed to the vitiated Taſte of an Audience. The vulgar Expreſſion, ‘If there were no Receivers, there would be no Knaves,’ may be here not un⯑aptly alluded to: ‘If there were no En⯑couragers of immoral Pieces, none ſuch would be repreſented.’ It can⯑not be doubted but the Regulator of a Theatre would rather deſire to ſee it a Seat of Decorum, than of Licentiouſneſs, or that an Actor would be better pleaſed to utter Sentiments of Truth and Virtue, than thoſe of Vice and Immorality.

[275]The other Play, Sir Courtly Nice, ſeems to be an Imitation of The Man of Mode, though a faint one. Notwithſtanding there are ſome good Things in the for⯑mer, yet the Characters are not by far ſo genteel, nor is there ſo much Wit or good Senſe in the Dialogue, as in the latter. Farewel is a ſort of Dorimant, only not vicious. The Aunt is a Copy of Lady Woodvill, and Leonora of Harriet. The Contraſt between Hothead and Teſti⯑mony is diverting, but I cannot think they are naturally brought in. Sir Courtly Nice is well drawn, but not ſo delightful a Fop as Sir Fopling; nor do I think his Foppery ſavours ſo much of the "Gen⯑tleman." I do not know what to make of Lord Belguard. I think him in the main a ſilly Fellow, though perhaps [276] with ſome Smattering of good Senſe and Breeding. Hothead's Behaviour to him is quite outrée, Crack's Character appears overdone, and the unravelling of the Plot not entirely natural. Surly altogether is too groſs, though ſome Part of what he he ſays is entertaining enough. There are certainly many worſe Plays. The Pur⯑poſe and Tendency of this Piece being rather good than otherwiſe, gives it, in my Opinion, one material Aſcendancy over The Man of Mode.

Perhaps what I have ſaid may engage you to read them over again, and then I ſhall be glad to have your Opinion of them.

LETTER LXI.

I Received a Letter from you juſt as I had finiſhed my laſt, and ſince that I have received yours of the 8th in⯑ſtant.

I am exceedingly pleaſed with your Obſervations on the Odyſſey; I only re⯑gret that you have not made more, and have gone ſo quickly through it. In a late Letter I reminded you of ſome Books which I had mentioned formerly, ſuch as the Bible and Apochrypha, Rochefau⯑cault, &c. where you might find very good Subjects for our Converſation.

[278]I have begun to read the Odyſſey, but ſhall only, at this Time, take notice of the Obſervation you make on the Anſwer Telemachus gives to Mentes about the Doubtfulneſs of his Legitimacy. Pope ſays, ‘Whatever Truth there may be in the Reply, there is very little De⯑cency in it.’ I muſt own myſelf of a different Opinion; I think Telemachus rather means a Compliment, than a Reflection on his Mother. The Mean⯑ing of the Author, in my Conception, amounts to this. The Certainty of our Le⯑gitimacy depends on the Word and Honeſty of our Mothers. Penelope avows me to be her Son by Ulyſſes; and conſidering the vir⯑tuous Character of my Mother, there is no Doubt to be made of my being ſo; her Avowal of it amounts to abſolute Proof.

[279]Prefixed to the Odyſſey is an Abſtract from Boſſu on Epic Poetry, which, if I had read it before I wrote my Letters on the Iliad, would ha [...] ſaved me a great deal of what I wrote, as it will many Things which otherwiſe I might write on the Odyſſey. It is a moſt excellent Piece, and I would have you read it over and over again.

I remember, when I was very young, the fourteenth Book of the Odyſſey pleaſed me peculiarly, and I then minuted down my Obſervations upon it. If I recollect right, it is the Converſation between Ulyſ⯑ſes or Telemachus, and Eumoeus. I have not the Volume at Hand juſt now.

[280]I am mightily pleaſed with your laſt Letter; it is written clean and care⯑fully; the Style is good, and the Obſer⯑vations juſt and judicious. I hope to have more ſuch from you ſoon. In every Letter I write, I ſhall tranſmit my Re⯑marks on two Books. You have pre⯑vented me in many.

Tell me particularly how your Mama does; and believe me to be,

LETTER LXII.

IN the firſt Book of the Odyſſey, we find the Misfortunes that befel the Companions of Ulyſſes ſprung from the very Cauſe, whence thoſe in the Iliad aroſe, namely, an Offence to the Gods: they had committed an Affront to Apollo.

The next Point wherein they reſemble each other is in the Aſſiſtance of Heaven, in all Difficulties, being granted to the virtuous, obtained by Prayer, and re⯑turned by Sacrifice and Thankſgiving.

[282]The next is in the Vengeance of Hea⯑ven on wicked Men. I muſt again re⯑commend to you to read the Abſtract from Boſſu, prefixed to the Odyſſey. You well obſerve that Hoſpitality is repre⯑ſented in a moſt beautiful Light in both Works.

I think all that Mr. Pope and the other Commentators have ſaid in the Note on Verſe 240. does not ſatisfactorily ac⯑count for this Voyage of Ulyſſes; and we find the Suitors afterwards drawing the Occaſion of a Jeer from that very Paſſage;

[283]To remark ſome particular Paſſages, I go back to the firſt Book. The Ad⯑vice given by Mentes to Telemachus, Verſe 327, deſerves your cloſeſt Attention. The prudent Caution at Verſe 374, ‘If yet Ulyſſes views the Light, &c.’ is very remarkable.

Book ii. Line 27.

has been much criticized, and not with⯑out Reaſon. There is ſomething rather too free in the Expreſſion.

What a natural and affecting Picture is given of the old Nurſe, Verſe 406.

[284]The Deſcription of Telemachus's Em⯑barkment and ſetting ſail, gives a beau⯑tiful Cloſe to this Book. It is as excellent in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, as it is natural in the Original.

LETTER LXIII.

I Have read over the third and fourth Books of the Odyſſey.

The Advice which Mentor, or rather Pallas in his Shape, gives to Telemachus, at the Opening of the third Book, is moſt admirably prudent and juſt.

[285]Verſe 62 and 63, are very poetical and inſtructive, to all Degrees of Life.

Verſe 282. Notwithſtanding what Mr. Pope ſays here about the Force of Deſtiny, I think no other Defence can be made for Telemachus, than his Youth, and that Impatience which naturally ariſes from a long Endurance of Afflictions. The An⯑ſwer of Pallas, which is moſt admirable, certainly points it out.

Verſe 333. What a charming Inſtance have we here of the Power of good Ad⯑vice, when delivered in a pleaſing amiable Way! Poetry and Muſic, united with divine or moral Precepts, conſpire to keep the Mind from giving way to Temptation.

[286]Verſe 429. Beſides that this is a very judicious Obſervation in the Poet, for the Reaſons which Mr. Pope aſſigns in his Note, it includes an excellent moral Pre⯑cept to Mankind.

Verſe 496 to 515. What an admirable Picture is given us of Neſtor and his Fa⯑mily!

Book iv. Verſe 437. I cannot but think it ſomewhat indecent in Telemachus to ſtile his Father the Man; but perhaps this is the Fault of the Tranſlator. I have not the Original by me at preſent to determine it.

The Stanza at Line 475, is an In⯑ſtance of what I have often remarked [287] to be one great Point through the whole Work; and at Verſe 635, we ſee it again.

Book v. I agree with you that no⯑thing can be more beautiful than the Grotto of Calypſo, and the Environs; but Verſe 177, I think, is a little ob⯑ſcure; the frequent Repetition of the Word HE, without a Diſtinction, ſeems to make it ſo. It runs, ‘Go then he may; he muſt, if HE ordain;’ would it not have been better thus, ‘Go then he may; he muſt, if JOVE ordain;’

Perhaps you will ſay I am cavilling at Words, but I feel the Objection ſtrongly. I think too that calling Ulyſſes the Man, Verſe 186, is not ſo well; [288] would not the Prince, or the Chief, have done better? ‘Ver. 294. Ulyſſes rob'd him in the Cloack and Veſt,’ appears to me not particular enough. There is ſomething too inconſequential for the Hero.

Verſe. 311. Notwithſtanding all that Mr. Pope has ſaid in Defence of Ulyſſes being able to compleat his Boat in four Days Time, from the Deſcription of it, I think it is hardly probable.

The Critics have been very ſevere on theſe Words, "the well-fought Wall," Verſe 395.

[289]You ſee, my Obſervations on this Book are rather employed in finding Faults, than diſcovering Excellencies; and I really think Mr. Pope has made more Eſcapes herein, than in any I have read yet.

The Note upon Verſe 454. is very fine, and merits particular Notice.

Book VI. is charming throughout. It gives us a delightful Picture of the Good-nature, Hoſpitality, paternal Af⯑fection, and Simplicity of the Manners of the Antients. Verſe 247 and 248, perfectly agree wich the holy Pſalmiſt, where He ſays, "Whoſo giveth to the Poor, lendeth to the Lord." Pray re⯑turn to Verſe 100. and read the Note [290] on that Line, and the ſubſequent Note, and conſider them carefully. The Man⯑ner of waſhing obſerved in the Former, is uſual, at this Day, in many Places of Scotland, eſpecially when they waſh what they call great Linen, as Sheets, Table-Cloths, &c.

I thought, my Dear, I ſhould have been able to get through a Book or Two more; for I find what is in the Notes, and what you have obſerved will cut my Work very ſhort; but your Letter is juſt come to Hand, which I have read with vaſt Pleaſure; only I think you go too faſt through Rochefa⯑cault. I hope to have another from you ſoon on that Subject.

[291]Je vous envoyeray Vendredi, par la Caroſſe de Monſieur Bew, une petite Boite avec les deux Comedies. Vous ferez une petite Rejouiſſance la Jour de votre Naiſſance, & Je ferai le Meme, Je vous aſſure. Mes Complimens oû ils font dû.