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THEMES AND ESSAYS:
oa,

W:bt W:encber's ~ssistarn in <!tompositfon;
DEI!\"G

A SYSTEM OF EASY HULES
FOR WRITING EXERCISES,
ILLUSTRATED DY EXAMPLES, ADAPTED TO THE USE
OF DOTH SEXES, AT SCHOOL:
TO WllICH ABE ADDZ:D,

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND IMPROVING JUVENILE
COMPOSITION.

BY JOHN ·,.}Yl\.LKER,
,,
AVrHOR OF THB CRITIC.AL PRONOUNCING DICTION.ARY,

4-t.

~·c .

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
M those move easiest who have lea.rn'd to dauce.-PoPJ:.

THE NINTH EDITION.

LONDON:
l'RINTED f'OR ~· CADELT.; LONGMAN, ORlU::, AND co~; DALDW IN AND
CH.ADOCK j J. G. ANlJ :F. RlYJNGTON; HAMILTON AND CO.;
SHEU.WOOD AND

co.;

''\"HIT'l' :\KEH. AND

co.;

SIMPKI N,

MARSHA LI., AND CO. j J, SOU'l'ER; AND
HOULSTOh..,. AND SON.

MDCCCXXXVIIT,

PREF ACE.

present Work . is the offspring of necessity. Being engaged for several years in
teaching young people a method of writing
their thoughts on common subjects, I was
desirous of availing myself of the labours of
those who had gone before me ; but was disappointed : not a work could I find in our
language which afforded me any considerable assistance ; nor did th.e French language,
fertile as it is in books, offer any thing on
the subject worth notice. After various inquiries, therefore, I found myself under the
necessity of composing something of my own ;
and the present Work is the result of it.
THE

PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS,
14. Chating Cross.

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What can be the reason of such a scarcity
of books on this subject, it is not easy to
determine. Surely the power of putting our
A 2

PREFACE.

lV

PREFACE.

thoughts upon paper in a clear and agreeable manner is of sufficient importance in
life to form part of a polite education ; nor
can it be denied that this, like every other
accomplishment, is in a great measure to be
attained by rules · and practice. It is well
known by those who have studied human
nature, that whatever is to be g:>ined by
habit can scarcely be taught too early; and
yet the habit of expressing our thoughts
in an easy and regular way is generally
either entirely neglected, or the last thing
thought of, in a course of education. It
is a great mistake to suppose that an advanced age only can enter upon this part of
instruction. The moment young people can
read fluently, and talk upon common subjects, they may be enabled to write. upon
them ; and nothing but the habit is wanting.
It is true, the path must be smoothed for
them; we must not expect them to invent
matter: what they write must be infused
into them, and what we infuse must be of
the easiest kind, and so connected, that one

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part will naturally suggest another: when
a subject is thus prepared, it will . be easy,
even for a child, to set it down from memory
upon paper; and when once a habit of doing
this is acquired, the greatest difficulty is
over. By degrees, they will naturally supply with their own words those they do not
remember, and soon · begin to think upon a
subject for themselves.
The difficulty which attends an exerc1E'e
of this kind, without preparing it by the
easiest and most gradual advances, is the
principal reason why it is so much neglected
both by pupils and teachers.-To . order a
young beginner to write upon a subject without giving an outline, by laying down some
leading points, is the most unreasonable
thing in the world. We ought to expect.
nothing from tender youth but memory ;
judgment and invention will come by degrees, and ought not to be forced upon the
delicate intellects of children too soon. The
mind should advance in strength by the same

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PREFACE.

insensible degrees as the body. Too strong
exercise in either will prevent the growth of
both, just as the want of proper exercise in
either will infallibly hinder their arriving at
the greatest degree of strength they are capable of. To follow Nature, therefore, in
that happy medium in which the excellence
of almost every operation lies is the intention
of the following Work. How I have succeeded in this intention must be left to the
judgment of the Public, and from their sentence there is no appeal.

INTROD U CT I 0 N.

DIRECTIONS TO PARENTS AND PRECEPTORS, IN
THE USE OF THE FOLLOWING WORK.

IN the first place the rules in prose must be
written out by the pupil, and explained more
fully by the teacher. The rules versified must
also be copied and explained, by comparing
them with the prose; after which, the pupil
must get them by heart.
In the next place, the teacher must read
over the 'fheme distinctly to the pupil, observing the correspondence of each part with
the rules. When this is done, the teacher
should talk over the Theme to the pupil, by
makin(J'
use of his own words in as familiar
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INTRODUCTION.
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INTRODUCTION.

a manner as possible ; after which he should
read the Theme over a second time to the
pupil, and then leave him to put it down from
memory as well as he is able.
It will be necessary for the pupil to have
a book in quarto, like a copy-book, and to
write his exercise on the Ieft-han"d page; if
he should write more than one page will hold,
he should turn over the leaf and continue to
write on the left-hand page, and so on till the
Theme is finished.
The teacher should then inspect what is
written, and correct what is improper, ra- .
ther by giving the pupil's though t a pr~per
1
turn than changing it for one more accurate ·
for it is the pupil's idea which ought to
" taugltt how to .<;hoot," as an idea thus lmmoured will thrive much better in the human
mind than one that is not a native of the
soil. Care should therefore be taken that
~he _teacher do not affect too elegant a style
m his corrections, but, as much as possible,

to make them of a piece with the pupil's own
production*.
'Vhen the Theme is thus corrected, the
pupil should be ordered to copy it out fair,
with all the improvements, upon the righthand opposite page, that the original and
the fair copy may face each other; and this
writing over the Theme a second time will
imprint the corrections in the pupil's mind,
and insensibly make them his own.
After the Theme is first read pver and
explained, it would be advisable to set the
pupil upon writing it as soon as possible,
that it may not slip out of his memory.
Perhaps it would not be without its use

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.., Quintilian excellently observes, "that'luxuriance in
juycnile composition is an infinitely better sign than
sterility. Te:i.chers should not aim at too great correctneos, which may possibly cramp the genius too much,
by rendering the pupil timid and diffident; or, perhaps,
discourage him altogether, by producing absolute despair of ariving at any degree of perfection ."
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INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

any part of education, can instruction be
<Yiven in classes with so little convenience as
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in writing Themes. Particular care, therefore, should be taken to let the classes be
small, and to form them of such pupils as
have nearly the same capacity. If a whole
Theme should be too difficult, either for a
single pupil or a class, let them only have
the three first parts given them for the first
·r
exercise, and the four last for a secon d : i.
this should be found too hard, it may be advisable to give them but two parts at a time ;
nay, for those who have almost an invincible
repugnance to this sort of exercise (which is
often the case), a single part at a time may be
enouo·h to begin with. "Divide ancl conquer,"
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as Dr. Johnson observes, " is a maxnn true m
letters as well as in politics;" and we should
always keep in view a rule of the greatest
importance in teaching, that the advances in
a difficult art cannot be too easy and gradual.

to desire the pupil to write his first sketch
upon a bit of loose paper, and to leave it till
the next morning, when he may try to make
improvements of his own, and recollect something more of the Theme that was given
him; he may do the same another morning,
and then he should copy what he has done
upon the left-hand page of his hook of exercise, for the inspection of the teacher. This
method, if I am not mistaken, will in some
measure take away the difficulty which arises
from the thoughts of doing his best at · first,
and make him enter on his·exercise with more
ease and alacrity than if he were to begin it in
a more formal manner in his book.-'' These
"little things," as Dr. Goldsmith, <?bserves on
another occasion, "are great to little men';"
and some of the best practical mo~·al philosophers have laid the greatest stress upon the
doctrine of associations. .

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As the capacities of pupils are very cliff erent, a very different method should be.
adopted in teaching them; but scarcely, in

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The attentive teacher will observe, that
every Theme, Subject, and Essay, has an in-

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IlliTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

structive and moral tendency; and if he is
at first displeased with the want of ease and
elegance in the language and style, he wiil
easily recollect that such a style would have
been unsuitable to the capacities of young
people just beginning to put their thoughts
upon paper, and that the first aim of their
teacher ought to be, to enable them to express
some of the most obvious ideas in the most
obvious words. The very e1egant style of
Mr. Addison would, in this case, be too delicate to meet their apprehension ; his most
ingenious turns of thought would be lost upon
them : and some of the finest passages in his
Spectators might be read to them, without
their being able to carry away with them a
single idea.

mind of the pupil which would enalJle him to
clothe it in words, when the more refined aml
sentimental part of the subject might escape
him. In short, I thought it the business of
the teacher in this case, to embody thought
and sentiment as much as possible, arnl, as
Shakspeare finely says,

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The first object, therefore, in the following
Work, was, to convey clear and prominent
ideas ; to arrange these ideas in such a manner as to make one thought suggest another;
to give as much imagery to the thought as
possible, that a picture might remain in the

--to give to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

In the course of this work I have derived
so little assistance from other writers, that
I might, perhaps, pass uncensured for plagiarism, if I were to be silent on this head ; but
candour obliges me to confess some obligations to Knox's Essays, to Jones's Letters
from a Tutor to his Pupil, to Letters from
Honori~ to .Marianne, to Bright's Praxis, and
perhaps to a few others scarcely worth mentioning. But most of these I have been
oblio·ed to modify in such a manner as to
b
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make them more suitable for an exerc15e ;
but by far the greatest part, with all their
faults, are my own; and it remains with the

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INTRODUCTION.

public to judge whether, upon the whole, I
have added any thing to the stock of instruction, an~ hav~ met the wants of parents and
teachers m this very important part of education.

It i~ presumed; that by the time the pupil
~ias wntten the Narratives, the Regular Subjects, and the Themes, he will be enabled to
begin those which take a more excursive turn .
and. to give his mind a little scope, by pro~
ducmg something more like an Essay. This
is the order I had recommended, in the first
edition, to be occasionally adopted, and have
been induced, by a judicious observation in
the ~onthly Review, to prefer this arrangement m the present edition, as most agreeable to the natural procedure of tlrn mind.
It is hoped that the present 'Vork will be
found useful not only to those who are under
the care of a teacher, but to those who wish
to improve themselves. To these it may be
observed, that if they read over the Theme
or Subject till they are fully possessed of the

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INTRODUCTION.

xv

sense, and then lay it aside and write down
from memory as much as they can recollect,
they will, by looking at the Theme, see how
far they have deviated from it, and what they
ought to correct. This is a practice recommended by Dr. Blair, who advises the pupil
to read a passage in Addison, and endeavour
to imitate it in the manner above noticed.
This, for pupils far advanced, is undoubtedly
an excellent practice ; but for the younger
class of pupils, as we have before observed,
Mr. Addison's language seems too elegant
and (if I may use the expression) too untangible. A regular chain of thinking, and a
coarser and more palpable choice of words,
seem best calculated for the improvement of
beginners in the art.
It need scarcely be observed, that it is of
the utmost importance that pupils should not
have this book in their possession. So
difficult and irksome at first is the task of
writing their thoughts, that young people will
risk every thing to ease themselves of the

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XVI

INTRODUCTION.

burden. This book, therefore, should be
carefully kept from them; as even one of
them in a school, 'if the teacher's eye be not
upon them while they write, ·will be sufficient
to frustrate his expectations. The rules,
therefore, may first be written out by the
te.acher, and then given to the pupil to copy,
without permitting I{im to see the book;
and even if the teacher were to copy out the
Theme or Subject, and read it in manuscript to the pupil, it might probably have a
good effect on his mind; as it might lead him
to suppose there was no such book in being,
and give him that idea of rarity and worth
which manuscript generally carries with it
above what is in print.

*** This caution, which was given' in the
first edition, was evidently calculated for larcre
b
schools, and the younger class of pupils : but
when the classes are small, and the pupils
more advanced-if the teacher can withdraw
the. book, or be present while they are writin()'
:::,
t he1r exercises, the possession of the book

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INTRODUCTION.

XVll

may be so far from a detriment, that it may
possibly be an advantage: it may familiarize
them to the train of thought which a subject
requires, and give them a habit of thinking
and writing with consistency and precision.
In this case, as in most others, general mies
will often be found defoctive ; and the judgment of the teacher must distinguish the
exceptions.

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CO NT E N'f S.

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OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.
P age
AnvERTISEJllENT •

1

Courage and Conjugal Affection in a Female
3
Courage and Judgment united in Necessity
4
Friendship continuing after Death
5
'1
Dis ingenuousness often fatal to Youth
Filial Piety respected by Enemies
8
Candour in a Criminal pleasantly rewarded
10
Striking Instance of the Subjection in which the Romans held other Nations
11
Concluding Observations
12
SKETCHES IN NARRATIVE.
Advertisement
Genero.sity rewarded
Generosity to an Enemy universally admired
One generous Action commonly produces another
Heroic Generosity seldom unrewarded

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CONl'E :-.ITS .

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NARRATIVE.
Advertisement to Narrative
Fidelity respected by Enemies
The same Story amplified
Desperate Fidelity in Friendship unexpectedly rewarded .
The same Story amplified
The same Story more amplified
Filial Piety rewarded
The same Story amplified
The false Happine88 of Tyrants
The same Story amplified
M odesty generally a sign of Merit
The same Story amplified

Pogo

22
23
24

26

27
29
33
34
35
36
37

ib.

REGULAR SUBJECTS.
Rules for composing a Regular Subject
These Rules versified
Advertisement to the Regular Subjects
On Education
On Government
On War
On Peace •
On Youth •
On Old Age
On Friendship
.
On Dramatic Entertainments •

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41

42
43

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48
50
52
54
59
59

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On
On
On
On
Ou
On
On
On
On
On

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CONTE N TS.

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FalJles and Allegories
B ooks .
Travelling
Poetry .
Painting
Music .
Commerce
th e E vils of Gaming
Chivalry
rhi losophy

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61

63
6()

69
71
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79
81
84

THEMES.
Of a Theme, and the Parts of whi ch it is compu ~c d 88
89
The Rul es versific1l
90
Advertisement to the Themes •
well-begun is half done
91
93
Trust not Appearances ·
9-!
D elays are dangerous ·
96
None are completely happy
98
Perseverance generally prevails
99
Nip Sin the Bud ·
·
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Make no more Haste than good Speed
101
'Tis ill playing with edged Tools
·
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Too much Familiarity commonly breeds Contempt IO-!
Order is of universal Importance
.
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Use Pleasures moderately and they will last the lo11ger ~ ~~
No Art can be acquired without Rul es
111 .
AYoid Extremes ·
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113
Evil Communications corrupt good Manners

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CONTENTS.

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CONTENTS.
Page

Page

Necessity is the Mother of Invention
115
Real Knowledge can be acquired only by slow degrees 117
Pride is the Bane of Happiness
119
Custom is second Nature
121
Honesty is the best Policy
123
A man is known by his Company
126
Virtue is its own Reward
128

173
On Novels.
176
On Contemplation
On Generosity •
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On the Correspondence between Politeness and Re. .
181
l rg1on
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On the Art of Pleasing in Conversat10n
183
On Sym1mthy and Benevolence
•
186
On the Advantages of a Good Education
188
On the Effects of Learning on the Countenance
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On the Passions .
197
On the Difference between Fashion and Beauty
199
On Solitude
203
On Genius •
206
On a Love of Order
On Affectation
20S
On the Evils of Obstinacy
211
On Independence.
214
On Delicacy of Passion .
•
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Delicacy of Taste not so dangerous as Delicacy of
218
Passion •

EASY ESSAYS.
Advertisement to Easy Essays
On the Importance of a well-spent Youth •
On the ~ecessity of Submission to Teachers
On Diversions
On Time
On Modesty
On Flattery
On Dress .
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On History. ·
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On Taste
On Parental Affection
On. Good Manners
On the Importance of a Good Character
On the Folly of indulging the Passion of Anger
On Resignation under Affliction
On the Evils of Pride •
On Politeness and Good Breeding
• On the Advantages of cultivating a Disposition to
be pleased
A Comparison between History and Biography •

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13.3.

135
138
140
142
144
146
149
151
153
155

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND IMPROVING
JUVENILE COMPOSITION.

157
160
162

Hints for correcting and improving Juvenile Compo..
•
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s1t10n
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Exam1)\es for correcting and improving Themes • 223
General Rules for Composition
224
On the Commencement of a Subject.
225
On Tautology
ib.

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166
168

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CONTENTS.

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On Redundancy .
228
On the Structure of Sentences.
230
On the Connecting of Members of Sentences by the
Conjunction AND
232
On the Choice of Words
236
On raising and invigorating the Language
237
Conclusion ,
239

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PERHAPS the easiest method of training young people to
write is to begin with Narrative. All who have the use
of reason can relate a transaction in the manner they have
seen or heard it; and though to do this to the best advantage is not a very easy task, yet to do it tolerably is,
perhaps, less difficult than any other species of composition : for this reason I have thought it proper to begin
with Narrative, that nothing might be left untried to
induce youth to the habit of writing down their thoughts
on whatever might be the least difficult to them at first.
Nothing so easy to comprehend and retain as a story,
and therefore nothing so easy to write down from memory.
But as some pupils have an almost invincible repug
nance to putting down their thoughts upon paper, every
method, and even every stratagem, shou ld be made use
of to induce them to try at it: for which purpose, I
have often thought, that if a short, simple story were
read to them, and then a paper given them with the
leading words of the story written at certain distances,
and left for them to fill up, it would be an easy means of
bringing them on to undertake that terrible task of
writing their own thoughts. This may be called drawing
the outline of a subject, in the same manner as a drawingmaster traces the outlines of a picture, which he leaves
for th e pupil to fill up; and there seems to be no reason
why one method should not be as conducive to improvement in writing as the other is in drawing. · Both these
modes of writing will be exemplified in the following
pages.

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COURAGE AND CONJUGAL AFFECTION IN A
FEMALE.

the wife of P retus, understandin g t~at her
husband was condemned to die, and permitted to
choose what death he liked best, she went and
exhorted him to quit life courageously; and, biddi.ng
him farewell, gave herself a stab in the Lreast with
a dagger she had hid under her garment ; ~hen
drawing it out of the wound, and prese.nting it to
P retus, she said, "The wound I have given my~elf
"is not at .a ll painful: I only feel for that wluc:~
"you must give yourself in followin g my example.

ARRIA,

THE OUTLINE.
ARRIA,

P cctus,
condemned to die,
death he liked best,
to die courageously;
farewell,

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OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

OUTLINES IN NARRATJVE.

breast
dagger
presenting
Pretus,
not at all painful;
feel
you must give yourself
example.

THE OUTLINE.

TnE Romans,
Albans,
agreed
three champions
in each camp three brothers,

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COURAGE AND JUDGMENT UNITED IN NECESSITY.

Romans being ready to join battle with the
Albans, to avoid bloodshed, it was agreed by both
parties, that the victory should be determined by
three champions against three on either side. There
happened to be in each camp three brothers, born
at one birth, of equal years, and equal stature; the
three Horatii for the Romans, and the three
Curiatii for the Albans. After a doubtful conflict,
two of the Romans were slain, and the third finding
himself unable to contend with the three Albans
together, feigned fear, ran away, and by this
stratagem drew his adversaries asunder, who by
reason of their wounds could not run with equal
speed; upon which he turned back, slew them one
by one in single fight, and obtained the victory for
the Romans.

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Horatii
Romans

Curiatii
Alban s,
two of the Romans slain,
the third Roman
feigned fear,
drew his adversaries asunder,
victory for the Romans.

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-+-FRIENDSHIP CONTINUING AFTER DEATH.

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TITUS VoLUMNIUS, a citizen of Rome, was the
friend of Marcus Lucullus, who was slain by the
command of Marc Antony, because he had followed
the party of Brutus and Cassius; and though he

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OUTLINES IN NAURATIVE.

OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

had sufficient time to preserve himself by flight, yet
he remained by the body of his dead friend, and
lamented him with such abundance of tears, that
notice was taken of. him by the soldiers of the opposite party, and he was dragged by them to Antony.
When he came into his presence, "Command me,
"Sir,'' said he, "to be taken back to the body of
"Lucullus, and to be there slain; for I ought not
"to survive him, since I was the only person who
"i1ersuaded him to take that unfortunate side which
"has brouirht him to ruin." Antonv was easilv
~
"
prevailed upon to grant his request, and he was
led to the place where Lucullus lay dead. " Then
he came to the body of his friend, he kissed his
right hand, took up his head that was cut off, and
put it to his bosom, and then presented his own neck
to receive the blow of the executioner.

abundance of tears,
dragged him to Antony.
into his presence,
" Command me,
body of Lucullus,
not to survive him,
persuaded him to take that side
back to the body.
ki ssed his hand,
took up his head,
neck to the exec11tioner.

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DISINGENUOUSNESS OFTEN FATAL TO YOUTH.

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THE OUTLINE.
TITUS VoLUMNrus,

l\farcus Lucullus,
slain by Antony
Brutus and Cassius;
time
by flight,

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THE Roman Emperor, Trajan, after a long war
with Decebalus, king of the Dacians, who had often
prevaricated and deceived him, at last took him, and
subdued his kingdom; and, after his death, was educating his son, with an intention, according to the
Roman custom, to restore him to his father's kingdom, making him his tributary and vassal; but see. ing him once break into a garden at night, he asked
him where he had been all the afternoon. The boy
ans\vered, in school: with which disingenuity the
emperor was so offended, that all the intercession of

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OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

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OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

rors, pitying the misfortunes of their captives, caused
it to be proclaimed, that every free citizen had th e
liberty of taking away any one thing which he
valued most: upon which /Eneas, neglecting e1rery
thing else, only carried away with him his household gods. The Greeks, delighted with his piety,
gave him permission to carry away with him any
other thing. he had the greatest regard for ; and
immediately he took upon his should ers his aged
father, who was grown decrepit, and was carrying
him out of the town: the Greeks, struck with his
filial duty, gave him leave to take away e1·ery thiug
that belonged to him; declaring that l\ aturc itself
would not suffer them to be enemies to such as
showed so great piety to the gods, and so great reverence to their parents.

the Dacians, and many of the Romans, could never
induce him to make good what he had intended for
him; always saying, "That he who began so early
" to prevaricate, could never deserve a crown."

THE OUTLINE.
TRAJAN,

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D ecebalus, king of the Dacians,
took him and subdued hi:s ki11g<lo1u;
educating his son, .
restore him
break into a garden
afternoon.
in school:
offended,
D acians and Romans ·
do what he intended,
so early to prevaricate,
deserve a crown."

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FILIAL PIETY RESPECTED BY ENEMIES.

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the city of Troy was taken by the Greeks,
after the first fury of plunder was over, the conqueWHEN

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the city of Troy
plunder was over,
proclaimed, that every free citizen
which he valued most:
.iEneas, neglecting
his household gods.
The Greeks, delighted
WHEN

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THE OUTLINE.

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OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

OUTLINES IN NARRATIVE.

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saying, " You rogue, what do you do amo11g so
many honest men? Get you gone out of their company." · So he was fi·eed, a;1d the rest remained
there still to fog at the oar.

any other thing
his aged father:
the Greeks, struck
every thing that belonged to him;
Nature itself would not suffer them
piety to the gods
reverence to their parents.

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CANDOUR IN A CRIMINAL PLEASANTLY
REWARDED.
THE Duke of Ossuna, as he passed by Barcelona,
having got leave of the King of Spain to release
some slaves, he went on board the galley, and passin g through the benches of slaves at the oar, he
asked several of them what tlt eir offences were?
Every one excused himself; one saying that he was
put there out of malice, another by t!1e bribery of
the judge; but all of them unjustly. Among the
rest there was a little sturdy fello w ; and the Duke
asking him what he was there for, "Sir," said he,
" I cannot deny but I am justly sent here; for I
wanted money, and so I took a purse upon the
highway to keep me from starving ." Upon which
the Dulce, with a little stick he had in his hand,
gave him two or three blows upon the shoulders,
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-+A STRIKING INSTANCE OF THE SUBJECTION IN
WHICH THE ROMANS HELD OTH E R NATIONS.

l{otlting can sh ew the terror of th e R oman nmne
in a stronger light than the insolent behaviour of
ll1eir ambassador to Antioclms, king ~!" Syria.
Tltat monarch medit;:ited an inrn sion of Egyp t. and
was just on the point of decla ring war again vt Ptolemy, who was the ally of the Romans. Tlte Senate

I,

immediately despatched Popilius Lamas with a
,!"

"

peremptory message to Antiochns, commanding him
to desist from attacking the ally of the Roman
p eople. PVhen Popilius arrived at the camp of Antioclws, he found him smTou1Hlccl by his courtiers,
and attended by a powerful army; but, " -i1hout
being intimidated, he boldly clclirerccl to him the
Se11ate's message. Antioclms, embarrassed at so
11nexp ected an address, but unwilling to give up his
intended enterprise, gave an evasive anszccr: upon
whi ch Popilius, with a wand he had in his hand,

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OUTLI.KES IN NARRATIVE.

:t

drew a circle upon the sand round the king, and ·
ordered him not to stir out of it till he had given
him a direct answer to the Senate's demand. The
boldness and austerity of this action so intimidated
Antiochus, that he immediately promised he would
desist from his intended invasion, and obey the
mandate of the Romans.
The .letters in Italics in the two last may be disposed by the teacher in the same manner as in the
former examples; and this trial may be made in
the Themes, Regular Subjects, or Essays, as the
teacher find;; the pnpil want assistance. Thus we
have descended to slowness of parts as low as we
can go. No descent can be too low, if it raises the
pupil from indolence to exertion, from backwardness to facility. It is the principal task of a teacher
to measure the capacity of the pupil, and to adapt
his instructions to that measure; and it is hoped
that the present Work affords to the teacher a variety of methods, not all of them unworthy of his
notice ; but if but one of them prove really useful,
the' Author shall not think the time and pains he
has bestowed unprofitably or illaudably employed.

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SKETCHES IN NARRATIVE.

SKETCHES IN NARRATIVE.

-+-GENEROSITY REWARDED.

ADVERTISEMENT.

PLANCUS, a Roman citizen, b eing proscribed by
the triumvirs, Antony, L epidus, and O ctavi us, was
forced to abscond. His sl aves, though put to the
torture, r efused to discover him. N ew torments
b eing prepared,-to prevent further distress to
ser vants that were so faithful to him, Planc11s ap-

IN teaching to write Exercises, particularly in Narrative,
I have often observed that the most difficult part of the
composition is the connectives. If a pt11Jil, therefore, of
the lower class, seems remarkably backward in writing,
perhaps it might not be improper to direct him to make
his sentences as short as possible, and, instead of tacking
one member to another in a long chain by relatives and
conjunctions, to relate his subj ect by short, detached
members. "\V"hcn he has done this, the teacher may shew
h im how these connectives may be su ppli ed, and by
copying over the exercise thus co11ncctcd and perfected,
he may he led to a use of the connectives by himself.
This may be called, giving a slcetch of a subj ect.

peared , <i nrl nffPrNl his throat to the sworcls of the
executioners. An exari1plc so noble, of mutual
affection betwixt a master and his slaves, procurcu
a pardon to Plancus; and Home clcclarcd , that
Plancus only was worthy of so good servants, anu
they only were worthy of so good a master.

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THE SAME STORY IN DETACHED SENTENCES.

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PLANCUS was proscribed by the triumvirs, a nd
was forced to abscond.
His slaves were put to the torture, but refu sed to
discover him.
N cw torments were prepared to force them to
discover him.

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SKETCHES IN

Plancus made his appearance, and offered himself to d eath.
This generosity of Plancus made the triumvirs
pardon him.
They sal<l, Plancus only was worthy of so goocl
servants, and the servants only were wort.by of so
good a master.

-+GENEROSITY TO AN ENEMY UNIVERSALL y
ADMIRED.

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NARRATIVE.

CNEIUS DoMITIUs, tribune of the Roman people,
burning to ruin his enemy, :Marcus Scanrn", chief
of the senate, accused him publicly, before the
people, of several. high crimes and misdemeanors.
H is zeal in the prosecution excited a slave of
Scaurus, through hope of a reward, to offer him self
privately as a witness. But justice here prevailed
o.ver revenge: for Domitius, without li~tening to a
smgle word, ordered the perfidious wretch to be
fettered, and to be carried instantly to his master.
This action was so universally admired, that there
was no end of heaping honours upon Domitius.
He was successively elected consul, censor, and
chief priest.

SKElCHES IN

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NARRATIVE,

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THE SAME STORY IN DETACHED SENTENCES.

CN EIUS DoMITIUS, tribune of the Roma n p eople,
had a great enmity against M arcu s Scaurus, chief
of the senate.
H e accused him publicly of several high crimes
and misdem eanors.
A slave of Scaurus, through hope of a reward,
offered himself as a witness against his m aster.
Domitius ordered him to be bouml, antl sent to
his master.
This generous action of Domi tius \ras much
admired by the people.
Honours were heaped upon him without end.
He was successively elected consul, censor, and
chief priest.

-+ONE GENEROUS ACTION COMMONLY PRODUCES
ANOTHER.'

JN th1~ siege of F alerii hy C;imillns, g(meral oft.he
Roman;;, the ;;choolmaster of the town, wlio h ad
the children of the senators under his care, fod them
abroad under the pretext of recreation, and carried

SKETCHES IN NARRATIVE.

them to the Roman camp, saying to Camillus,
That, by this artifice, he had delivered Falerii into
his hands. Camillus, abhorring this treachery,
observed, "That there were laws for war as well
" as for peace; and that the Romans were taught
"to make war with integrity, not less than with
"courage." He ordered the schoolmaster to be
stripped, his hands to be bound behind his back,
and to be delivered to the boys to be lashed back
into the town. The Falerians, formerly obstinate
in resistance, struck with an act of justice so illustrious, delivered themselves up to the Romans,
convinced, that it would be far better to have the
Romans for their allies than their enemies.

He ordered the schoolmaster to haYe his hands
bound, and to be whipped back into the city by
the boys .
The citizens were charmed with this generous
behaviour of Camillus, and immediately submitted
to the Romans.

THE SAME STORY IN DETACHED SENTENCES.

THE city of the Falerii was besieged py Camil1
lus, general of the Romans.
A schoolmaster decoyed the children of the
principal citizens into the Roman camp.
He told Camillus that the possession of these
children would make the citizens soon surrender
to him.
Camillus told him, the Romans loved courage,
but hated treachery.

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HEROIC GENEROSITY SELDOM UNREWARDED.

vVuEN Calais, after a shameful revolt from the
English, was retaken by Edward III., he, as a
punishment, appointed six of the most reputable
burgesses to be put to death, leaving the inhabitants to choose the victims. While the inhul>itants, stupidly aghast, declined to make a choice,
Eustace de St. Pierre, a burg~ss of the first rank,
offered himself to be one of the devoted six. A
generosity so uncommon raised such admiration,
that five more were quickly found who followed
his example. These six illustrious persons marching out barefooted, with halters about their necks,
prese nted to the conqueror the keys of the town.
The queen, being informed of their heroic virtue,
threw her:self al the king's feet, entreating him,
with tears in her eyes, to regard such illustrious

20

SKE TCIIES JN NARRA TI VE.

merit. She not only obtained theii· pardon, but
enter tained them in her own tent, and dismissed
them with handsome presents.

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THE SAME STORY IN DETACHED SENTENCES.
CALAI S revolted from the English, and was retaken by Edward III.
In revenge for their treachery, he ordered them
to choose six citizens to be put to death.
While all were struck with horror at this sentence, Eustace <le St. Pierre offered himself for
one.
· Five more soon joined him ; and they came
with halters about their necks to Edward.
H e ordered them to be executed; but his queen
pleaded so powerfully for them, that he pardoned
them.
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The queen not only entertained them sumptuously in her own tent, but sent them back loadecl
with presents.

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N ARRA'fIVE.

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NARRATIVE AMPLIFIED.
ADVERTISE:MENT.

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IF it has been found necessary to begin with the pupil
so low as the Outlines and Sketches in Narrative, he may
then be led to Narrative without the fore going assistance,
and be induced to write down a story from memory.
For this purpose I would advise the teacher to· read over
an example of this kind to the pupil, and, if possible, to
make him tell it over in his own words, by helping him
out a little, then to read it over again, and to order him
to write it down from memory. This should be corrected and re-written, like the other exercises, and repeated till a facility is obtained, and an ability of proceeding to something more difficult.
In order to induce the pupil to exercise his imagination,
I would advise the teacher to give him first a short narrative, and, after he has done that, to give him the same
story amplified: for which purpose, I have given some
examples of both these kinds, which, if the teacher finds
to be useful, may, with very little trouble, be multiplied
at pleasure.

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--+FIDELITY RESPECTED BY ENEMIES.

AT the battle of Philippi, when Brutus, after the
rout of his army, was in danger of falling into the
hands of his enemies, his bosom friend, Lucilius,
gave him an opportunity to escape, calling out,
" I am Brutus ! lead me to Antony !" Being conducted to Antony, he spoke with great resolution:
"I have employed this artifice," said he, " that
"Brutus might not fall alive into the hands of his
"enemies. The gods will never permit that for" tune shall triumph so far over virtue. In spite
"of fortun e, Brutus will always be found, <lead or
"alive, in a situation worthy of his courage." Antony, admiring the firmness of Lucilius, said to
•
h'un, ""tT
.1. ou ment a greater recompense than it is
"in my power to bestow. I have been just now
" infor~ed of the death of Brutus ; and as your
"fidelity to him is now at an encl, I beg earnestly
"to be received in his place: Love me as you <lid
"him, I wish no more." Lucilius embraced the
offer, engaged himself to Antony, and maintaining

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NARRATIVE.

NARRATIVE.

the same fidelity to him that he had done to Brutus, adhered to him when he was abandoned by
all the world.

Thracians were bringing him alive to Antony, bot 1t
soldiers and officers flocked together from all parts
to see him. Some pitied his misfortunes, others
;iccused him of a meanness unbecoming hi s former .
glory, for suffering himself, out of too much lore of
life, to be a prey to barbarians. As for Antony,
he was not a little concerned at this <i.dventurc,
being quite at a loss in what manner he shoulcl
receive, and how he should treat his illustrious
captive : but he was soon delivered from his uneasiness ; for, as the ·Thracians drew near, he knew
the prisoner, who had passed himself upon the
Thracians for Brutus ; and now addressing the Triumvir with a generous confidence, ' Be assmed,
' Antony,' said he, ' that no enemy either has or
' e\·er shall take Marcus Brutus alive : forbid it,
' ye gods, that f\lrtune should ever prevail so much
' above virtue ! But, let him be discorered dead
' or alive, he will certainly be found in such a state
• as is w01;thy of him. As for me, I have delivered
• myself up to save him, and am now ready to
• suffer whatever torments you think proper to
' inflict upon me, without demanding or expecting

THE SAME STORY AMPLIFIED.

AFTER the second battle of Philippi, between
Antony and Octavius, two of the Roman triumvirs,
and Brutus, which proved fatal to the latter, and,
indeed, to the liberty of Rome, one Lucilius Lucinus, an intimate .friend to Brutus, observing a
body of Thracian horse taking no notice of any
other in their pursuit, but making directly towards
Brutus, resolved to stop them, and save the life of
his general at the hazard of his own. Accordingly,
without acquainting Brutus with his design, he
halted till the Thracians came up and surrounded
him; then he cried out, "I am Brutus!" and, begging quarter, desired they would carry him to Antony, pretending that he feared Octavius. The
Thracians, overjoyed with their prey, and thinking
' themselves happy, immediately detached some of
their own body to acquaint Antony with their good
fortune; and, in the mean time, giving over the
pursuit, returned to the field of battle with their
prisoner. The report being spread in an instant, all
over the army, that Brutus was taken, and that the

' any quarter.'
Antony, wonderfully taken with the fidelity,
virt11P, and generosity of Lucilius, turned to the
Thracians, now sensible of, and enraged at, their

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J\ARRATlVE.

llisappointm ent, and addressed them thus : ' I per, ceive, my follow- soldiers, that you a re concer'.-ied
• and full of resentment for having been thus im' posed upon by Lucilius : but be ass~JJ"ecl, that
' you have met with a booty b etter _than that you
' have sought for; you have been m sear~h of an
' enemy, and you have brought me a fn en<l. I
'was truly at a loss how I should haYe. treated
' Brntus, if you had brought_him to me ah Ye ; but
' of this I am sure, that it is b etter to hare such a
' man as Lucilius our fri end than our en emy.'
H avinrr thus spoken, h e embraced Luciliu s, and
comm;1cled him to the care of one of his friends.

pointed time with alacrity. D a mon, stri ct to hi,;
engagement, returned at the appoint ed time. D ionysius, admiring their mu tual fid elity, p arcloned
Damon, anJ prayed to h aYe the fri e11dship of t110
such worthy men.

26

THE SA:iJE STORY AMPLIFIED.
D ,\ MON b eing condemned to death by Dionysius,
tyrant of Syracuse, obtained liberty to Yi sit his \l"ii'l·
and children, leavin g his friend Pythias as;; pledge
for his return, on conditi on tha t, if he failed, Py1 l1ias
should suffer in his stead. Damon not ;1ppcaring
at the ti me appointed, the tyrant li<u l tLc cmiu sity
to visit P ythias in prison. ' \ Vhat a fool were
you,' said he, 'to rely on Damon's prom ise ! How
' could you im agine that he would sac rifi ce his Ji i'e
' fo r you, or for any man ?' - ' 1vJy lord,' said
Pythi a~, with a firm mice ancl noble aspect, ' I
' would suffer a thousand cleat hs rather than my
' fri end should fail in a ny article of honour: he
' cannot fail; I am as co uticlent of hi s Yirtue as
' of my ow n existence.
But I b eseech th e gods to
' prese rre hi s l ife : oppose him, ye \ri ncls ! cli s"r' point his eagerness, and suffer him not to arri\·e
' till my death has saved a life of mu ch grea t ~r
' consequence than mine, . necessary to his lorely

DESP ERATE FIDELITY IN Jc'RIENDSHIP
UNEXPECTEDLY REWARDED.

and Pythias were intimat e friends. Da .n
cr
condemned to death by Diony siu s th e
111011, bel "
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tvrant, demanded lib erty to go home to set lns
. ~:ffairs in order ; and his friend offered himself to be
his surety, and to submit to death if D amon should
not retm:n. Erery one was in expectation what
. ,rnulcl lie the even t, and every one began to condemn Pythias for so rash an action : but he, con. fident of. the integrity of his friend, waited the apDH!ON

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l'ARRATIVE.

NARRATIVE.

wife, to his little innocents, to his friends, to his
country. Oh! let me not die the cru ellest of
c deaths in that of my friend.'
Dionysius 'ras confound(:'d and awed with the magnanimity of these
sentiments; he wi shed to speak ; he hesitated ;
h e looked down; and retired in si!C'nce. The fatal
day arrived. Pythias was brought forth; and, "·ith
an air of satisfaction, ,ra]ked to the place of execution. He ascemled the scaffold, ancl addressed the
p eople : ' My prayers are heard; the gods are proc pitious ; the 'rinds hare been contrary ; Damon
c could not cnnq11rr impo"<il)iliti<'" ; hf' will h f'
' here to-morrow, and rny blood shall ranso m that
' of my friend.' As he pronounced these words
a buzz a rose, a di stant voice 1ras hea rd, th e cr01Yd
caught the words, and 'Stop! stop the execution!'
was repeated by every person. A m an cam e at full
speed. In the same instant he was off his horse,
on the scaffolci, and in the arms of Pyt\hias. ' Y 011
c are safe,' he cried, ' you are safe, you are safe,
c my friend !
The gods be praised, you are
c safe !'
P ale, cold, and half speechless, in the
arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken accents: c Fatal haste--cruel impatience--what
c envious
powers have wrought impossibilities
c against your friend ? But I will not be wholly
c disappointed : since I cannot die to save you, I

' will die to accompany you.' Dionysius heard, and
beheld with astonishment; his eves were opened .
his heart was touched ; and he c~uld no lon ge r re~
sist the power of virtue. H e descended from his
tl:rone, and ascended the scaffold. 'Live, lirr, ye
c rncomparable pair!
Y e haYe demonst rated the
' exi stence of virtue; and, conscquc11tly, of a God
' who rewards it. Li1'e happy, li1·e re11 omwd ! an cl
'as you have invited me by your rxample, form
' me by your precepts, to participate 1rnrtliily of a
' fri end ship so dirine.

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Ti-IE SA!\IE STORY l\IORE A:IU'L!FIED.

).

Vl HEN Damon was sentenced by Dionysins of
Syracuse to die on a certain clay, he begged permission; in the interim, to retire to his own country, to set the affairs of his disconsolate familv in
order. This the tyrant int ended peremptoril~ to
refuse, by granting- it, as he conceived, on the
imposo;ible conditions of his procuring some one to
remai:1 as hostage for his re turn, under equal forfeiture of lifo. Pythias heard the conditions, and
<lill not wait for an application Hpon the part of
Damon: h e instantly offered himself as security for
his friend; which being accepted, Damon 1rns . im-

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mediatelv se t at liberty. The king and all the
courtiers were astonished at this action; and, therefore, when the chi.y of execution drew nea r, the
tyra nt had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his co11finem ent. After some con~·ers;ition on the subject
of friendship, the tyrant delivered it as his opinion,
that self-interest was the sole mover of hum an
actions ; and that virtue, friend ship, benevolence,
lorn of one's country, and the like, he lookecl up01i
them as terms invented by the wise to keep in awe
and impose upon the weak. 'My lord,' said Pythias, with a firm voice and noule aspect, 'I woulcl
' it were possible that- I might suffer a thousand
' deaths, rat her than my fri end should fail in any
' article of his honour! He cannot fail therein, my
' lord ! I am as confident of his virtue as I am of
' my own existence. But I pray, I beseech the
' gods to preserrn the life and integrity of my
' Damon together. Oppose hin\, ye winds ! prevent
' the eagerness and impatience of his honourable
' endeavours, and suffer him not to arrive till by
' my death I have redeemed a life a thousan<l
' times of more consequence, of more value, than
' my own; more estimable to his lovely wife, to his
~ precious little innocents, to his friends, to ·his
' country. 0 leave me not. to die the worst of
' deaths in that of my friend!' Dionysius was a wee!

and confounded by the dignity of these sentiments,
and by the manner in \Ybich they \rere utteretl :
he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of inrading truth ; but it served rath er to p erplex than undeceive him. The fatal day arriYN.l: Pytlii as \\'as
brought forth , and walke<l arnidst the gua rcJ ;; with a
seriou s, but satisfied air, to the pl ace of e:~ccu1ion.
Dionysi us was already there ; he 'rns exalted on a
morin g throne that was dram1 by six whit e l10r,-es,
and sat pensive and atte ntive to the pri soner.
Pythias came ; he vaulted lightly on the sca ffold,
and, beholding for a time th e apparatus or his death,
he turned with a placid coun tena nce, and addrl'SSell
the spectators: 'My prayers arc heard,' he cri ed,
' the gods are propitious ; you kno\\·, my friends,
'that the winds have been contrary till yesterday .
' Damon could not. come ; he co ukl nQt conqi:er
' impossibilities ; he will be here to-morrow; and
' the blood which is shed to-day shall ham ran' some<l the li fe of my friend. ·o ! could I erase
' from your bosoms every doub t, every mean susp i' eion, of the honour of the man for w horn I am
'about to suffer, I should go to my death ercn as
' I would to my wedding. Be it sufficirnt, in the
'mean time, that my friend will b e found nobl e ;
' that his trnt.h is unimpeach able; that he ffill
'spt'edily prore it ; that he is now on 11is w c; y, hur-

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NARRATIVE.

' rying on, accusing himself, the adrerse elements,
' and fortune; but I haste to prevent his speed:' Executioner, <lo your office.' As he pronouncell
the last words a buzz beaan to rise amona the reo
"'
motest of the people ; a distant voice was heard, the
crowd caught the words, a nd ' Stop ! stop the exe' cution !' was repeated by the whole assembly. · A
man came at full speed ; the throng gave way to hi s
approach; he was mounted on a steed that almost
fl ew; in an instant he w~s off his horse, on the
sca ffold, and held Pythias straitly embraced. 'You
' are safe !' he cried: 'you are safe, my friend,
' ri1y d earest fri end! the gods be praised, you are
' safe ! I now hare nothing but death to suffer,
' a nd am tlelil·ered from the anguish of those re' proaches which I gave myself for h avin g cndan' gered a life so much dearer than my own.' Pale,
cold, and h alf speechless, in the arms of his Damon,
P ythias replied in broken accents-,' Fatal h aste ! ' Cruel impatience !-What envibus powers have
' wrought impossibilities in your favour? But I
' will not be wholly disappointed. Since I cannot
' die to save, I will not survive you.' Dionvsius
h eard, beheld, and considered all with asto~ish­
m ent.
His heart was touched, he wept, and
leaving his throne, he ascended the scaffold. 'Lire,
' live, ye incomparable pair,' he cried ; 'ye have

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borne uuquestionable testimony to the existence
of virtue; and - that virtue equally evinces the
existence of a God to reward it. Live h appy,
li re renowned! a nd, 0, form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by yo ur example,
to be worthy of the participation of so sac rcll a
friendship.'

--+FILIAL PIETY RE\L\.RDED.

IN civil wars, as it of"ten falls out that fathers aml
sons, and brothers and Lrotliers, take contrary
part5 ; so in the last Lat tle of' Actimn, bet\\'ccn Augustus and Marc Antony, where Augustus was conqueror. When the prisoners, as the custom is, were
counted up, Metellus \ms brought to Augustus,
whose face, though much changed by anxiety and
imprisonment, was kno wn by :Metellus, his son, who
had been on the contrary pa rt : with tea rs he runs
to Auin to the embraces of his father, and turninoo
gustus, 'This, thy enemy,' said he, 'has deserved
' death, but I am worthy of some reward for the
' serrice I have done th ee; I therefore beseech
' thee, that, in stead of what is owing to me, thou
' -wou ldest prescrre this ma n, and cause me to
' suffor death in his stend.' Augu stus, mored

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!\ARRA TI\' E.

with the piety of the son, though the father had
been his mortal enemy, gave him his life.

passion at this affecting scene; O ctavius him self
relented, and granted to old Metellus his life and
libC?rty.

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SAME STORY AMPLIFIED.

AugusttL'> was at Samos, afte;. the famous
battle of Actium, whi ch ma<le him master of the
world, he hel<l a council to examine the prisoners
'rhich had been engaged in Antony's party. Among
the rest there wa:, brought before him an old man
named Metellus, oppressed with years and infirmities, disfigured with a long beard and a neglected
hea<l of hair, but especially by his clothes, which by
his ill fortune were become very ragged. The son
of this Metellus was one of the judges, and he had
great Jifficulty of knowing his father in the deplorable condition in which he saw him. At last, how-.
ever, having recollected his features, instead of
being asham ed to mm him, he ran \o emLrace him,
weeping bitterly. Aft.erwanls turning towards the
tribunal, 'Cresar,' says he, ' my father has been
' your enC'my, and I your officer: he deserves to
'be punished, and I to be rewarded. The favour
' I desire of you is either to save him on my ac' count, or to order me to be put to death with
' him.' All the ju '.lges 11-ere touched with com-·
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TIIE FALSE HAPPINESS OF

TYHA~TS.

DrciNv srus was always betrayin g his unh appiness.
b amocles, one of his fl atterers, .dcsc;ant in g 11po11
hi s magnificence, his po1rnr, his riches, Diony ~ iu s
said to him, ' These things seem to delight. you ;
' make a trial of my p lace, by way uf e:\1wri' ment.'
Da mocles was imt an tly a rrayed in a
purple robe, was attended by the !i:ing's g ua rds ; to
him all bowed the knee, and in erery respect he was
treated as king. In the midst of his pomp, Dio- ·
nysius ordered a naked sword to be hung from the
ceiling, by a horse-hair, directly orer the royal
throne, where Damocles was sitting at a feast.
From that moment Damocles lost. his appetite, his
joy nnished, and he begged to be restored to the
sec urity of his former condition. Dionysius thus
tacitly acknowlt>dged that his happiness was poisoned by a constant terror he was under, of the
p~rni s hment

tice.

he deserrecl for his cruelty and injus-

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NARRATIVE.

THE SAl\IE STORY AMPLIFIED.

in stant; he could sec nothing but the sword, nor
think of any thing but his danger. In the hciglit
of his foar h e de sired permission to retire, and declared h e would be h appy no longer.

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DAMOCLES, one of the courtiers of Dionysius
the Elder, tyrant of Syracuse, was perpetually extolling with raptures his treasures, grandeur, the
number of his troops, the extent of his dominions,
the magnificence of his palaces, and the universal
abundance of all _good things and enjoyments in his
possession; always repeating, that never man waJ·
happier than D ionysius. 'Because you are of
' that opinion,' said the tyrant, 'will you taste
· and make proof of my felicity in person'?' The
offer was accepted with joy; Damocles was pbcecl
upon a golden bed, covered with carpets of iuestimable value. The sideboards were loaded with
w sscls of gold and silver; the most beautiful slares,
in the most splendid habits, stood round him watching the least signal to sen'e him. The most exquisite essences and perfumes were nbt spared : the
I

table was spread with proportionable magnifice nce.
Damocles was all joy, and looked upon himself as
the happiest man in the world; when, unfortunately,
casting up bis eyes, he beheld over bis head the
point of a sword, which hung from the roof only by
a · single horse-hair. He was immediately seized
with a cold sweat; e1·ery thing disappeared in an

-+\ MODESTY GENERALLY A SIGN OF MERIT. \

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,

A,~ TIQ U ITY tells us that, on a resol11tion to erect
a fine palace, all th e architects of Greece " ·ere
~ummone<l to <leliver in their plans, and to prop ~se
such · methods as they intended to adopt in huildin!! it. After ser eral of them had made ,·cry llorid
ha ranrri1cs on the excellence of their art and tiie·
superi::-ity of their pretensions, one of the111, "ho
h ad been quite silent, was asked what he ha<l to
propose? Upon which he laconically answered,
.. What they h ave said, I will do.' This answer
appearc<l to have so much modesty, as well as confidence, that he was immediately chosen in pr eference to the rest.

THE SAME STORY AMPLIFIED.

'YE are told hy an ancient writer, that oi1C of the
States of Greece had resolred upon buildin g a magnifi cent palace, and for that purpose had summoned
all the most famous architects to gire in their plans,

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,
and to propose the methods they intended to pursue
in the execution of them. On the day appointed
they all met, and each of them was desired to delin•r his opinion on the subj ect. One expatiated
on the necessity of laying a good foundation, as the
principal part of every building, and that which was
to support an<l secure every other; a second insisted that the body of the superstructure ought to
be bold, spacious, and convenient ; a third dwelt
upon the propriety of a beautiful attic story, and
sai<l that the upper part of every e<lifice was the
crown of all the rest. After others, in the same
manner, bad <lelin:'recl their opinions in the most
1:uricl <u;J ostcu LtLious ;:;pccd1l';:;, alltl Lli0 j L<dg e"
were pro cee<ling to their choice, they observed that
there 1rns one of the candidates, who had been
quite silent, attentively listening to every t bing t!te
others had proposed. Their curiosity was excited
to know his opinion before they came to a final
determination, and they accordingly asked him
what he had to propose ? Without any preface,
he bluntly answered, 'What they have said, I will
do.' This . short and pithy aJlS\rer, which at once
implied modesty and confidence, engaged the
judges to inquire further into his character, au<l
they found his abilities so superior to the rest,
that they unanimously gave him the preference.

HE GULAH SUE-J.ECTS.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

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THERE

are but few subjects that will admit of being treated

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in so regular a way as to be viewed in all the points set
down in the rules. I have been at no small pains to collect

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so many as I have done; and, even in a few of these, I have
been obliged to drop some of the points: but as there is not

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any subject which may not be considered in two or three
of these points of view, I flatter myself the method here

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I.-ON EDUCATION.

De.fin. THE culture of the mind, as education may
not improperly be called, has e\·er been consiclered 2.s one of the most important concern<:
of society.
Cuuse. l\' or is it wond erful that the parent, \rho
knows how mut:l1 the liappillt'ss uf' Llw child.
depends upon its education, should l;estow so
much care and attention upon this momentous
article.
Antiq. The Greeks and Romans, among whom
were procluced such procligies of excellence iu
every kincl of writing, and in every department
of civil and military life, were i·emarkably
attentive to the education of their children;
insomuch that they began their education
almost with their birth. In Sparta, children
\rere taken from their mother at a very early
period of their age, and educated at the
p11blic expense; and the celebrated H.oman
writer, Quintilian, aclv·ises those parents 11ho
destine their children to the Bar, to choose

adopted will be found useful to young people, who must
ge1wn1l ly he fornishPd with some hints to be able to say any
thing upon the subject. I have endeavoured also to place
the easiest subject first, but am not sure I have always succeeded: I wish the Teacher to use his own judgment in this
respect, to he particularly attentive to the capacity of his
pupil, and to give him two, three, or more points, as he
finds his capacity equal to it.

I doubt not but a great degree of stiffness will be somet imes perceived, by endeavouring to b11ing all the points to
hear on some of the subjects; but, when it is recollected
that the object of the present work is not so much to form
the style as to furnish matter for writing, it is hoped the
stiffness will be overlooked. Ease is the completion of every
operation of art, and therefore ought not to be expected in
the beginning.

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

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nurses for them who have a goo<l pronunciation.
J.Vovel. Various are the modes of education which
h·a\·e been adopte<l among the moderns; but
all of them seem to be g rea tly inferior to the
strict discipline and methodical iustrn ction of
I
the ancients.

Univ. In short, all nations pay attention to this
essential duty of p arents; even the savage
takes care. to instruct his child in hunting,
fi shing, and those branches of knowledge
which are necessary for him.
Local. But in no part of the world has education
bee n brought to such perfection as in civilized
countries: here its importa nce is properly
estimated ; and in no part of science has the
hum an mind been more exerted th an in the
improvement of education. Locke and M ilton,
the two greatest name·s of our \own country,
have not thought it unworthy df their attention.

Adv an. Nothing can shew the advan tages of a good
education in a stronger lig.h t, than a contrast
with the disadvantages or a bad one. A person of good education has the mind and uody
so cultivated and improved, that ai1y natural
defects are removed, and the beauties of both

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placed in so fine a li ght, that th ey strike " ·itlt
double force: while one who bas had the misfort un e of a bad edu cation has all his nal11ral
imperfections rem ai nin g; and to these a rc
added artificial ones, arising from bad babi15,
or from pursuing wrong studi es. The fornH'r
th o at.1ention of those he conn' rse~
e naarrPs
::> b '
with, by the good sense he sho ws on en·ry
subj ect, and the agreeable manner in 1rhic!i ht•
conveys it: the other disgus1s er cry company
he comes into, !:'ither uy his total silence ;rn tl
stu pidity, or by the ignorance an d imp(']'t inence of his obserrations. The one r a i ~cs himself' to the notice of hi s sup eriors. anti ad1·ances
himself to a higher rank in life : the o1h er is
obliaed
to act an inferior vart among bis equab
b
in fortune, and is sometimes fo rced to seek a
shelter for his ignorance among the l owest.
orders of mankind.

-+II.-ON GOVERNMENT.

D e.fin .

GoYERN:\ffJS T is the soul of society : it is
that. order among ration al creatures 1r hi ch
produces almost all the benefits they enjoy.
A nation may be considered as a large family:

46

,

REGU LAR SUBJECTS.

all the inhab itants a re a sort of relations; and
th e supreme power, wherever it is lodgell, is
the common parent of every imlividual.
Canse. The origin of government is in the nature
of man . The selfi shness of man makes it ne- .
cessary to have some power to restrain it; anJ
this powe r i:0 governnient.
Antig. Gorernmeut is nearly as ancie nt as man.
Sacred hi story informs us of kin gs soon after
the flood; a nd the most ancient of profane
histories begin with kings.
Univ. In en~ry part of the earth, where hulllan
creatures are found, a kiml of governmcnt is
foun d among them; and this government is
generally th at of kin gs.
L ocal. Almost all the different kimls of baovernment
in th e different parts of the 11 ol'ld may be redu ced to three; namely, t he Monarchy, the
A ristoc racy , and the DemocracJ'.. A monarchical government. is that where' the supreme
power resides in an absolute K ing, as in Russia and Spain ; an aristocratical gorernment is
that where the pow er is lodged in the Nobles,
as it was, till lately, in Venice and Genoa; and
a democratical government is that where the
P eople give their ~-otes. in affairs of state, or
choose rep resentatives to vote for them, as it

REGULAR SUBJECTS

17

wus formerly in Holland and Switzerlaml, an cl
is now in th e United States of America.
Advan. The advantages of a monarchy are the same
as that of a family where there is but one ma ster; every thing is executed more speed il ~', <111tl
there is less room for parties. The adrant;iges
of a n a ristocracy a re, that, as several me n ;ire
less liable to be deceived in th eirjuclgment than
one, the errors of one of the nobl~s may be
corrected by the 'risdom of the others, an d t hu s
the State will be less liable to be misgorerned .
Tlie ad vantages of a dcmocr:H:y ;:i;·e, thnt, ;b
e1·crv m:1n ]i;1 s a sh;H(' 'i n tl 1l' g-n1 ·1·1·11::1rnt,
every man is more r espectable, and is lc~s
liable to be oppresse d by laws of his 01rn
m akin g than tj;~3e which are made by ~the rs .
Disad. But each of these governments h as its defects as well as its ad vantages. Th e defec t of
monarchy is this: men who have no check
up on their po1rer a re apt to abu se it; an absolute monarch m ay easily mi stak~ his true interests, indulge bis favourites and oppress hi;;
people. The llefects of an a ristocracy are of
the same kind, but greater : if the majority of
nobles are tyrants, and each has his farnu rite,
whose interests are in opposition to t hose of
the people, the mischiefs of m onarch y are mul-

48

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

tiplied. But the defects of a democracy are
still greater; for as every man of abilities may
arise to l)owcr by the voice of the people, they
are in constant danger of anarchy; that is, of
being without any government at all; for
where all are equal, they a re apt to fall into
imrties, by stri~·ing who shall get the superiority; and while this strife continues there
cari be no regular government.
How happy, therefore, is GREAT BRITAIN, 'rhich,
by uniting these three kinds of governments in
a King, the Lords and the Commons, am ids
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the inconvenie1ices, and possesses the aclrantages, of all!

,

-+III.-ON ''"AR.

Defi,11.

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WAR h as very justly, as \rell as emphatically, been styled the scourge of mankind.
Cause. It has its origin in pride, avarice, em-y, and
revenge; and generally ends in cruelty, injustice, and a11 sorts of crime.
Antiq. The history of mankind is little more tlwn
a history of battles and sieges. In sacred history we read of the violence which filled the

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

earth before the flood, and which ''"as thr
great cause of that univc:-rsal destruction: ancl
in profane history, the first great fact, which
can be depended on, is the siege of Troy.
l\'orel. The hi story of our own time rings with
the dreadful sounds of war ; though, perhap~.
it may be questioned whether, since the discovery of gunpowder, wars have either been so
bloody or so frequent as they ·were in ancient
times.

D1:sad. '1Vhile war prernils, it is impo;::sihk society
can flourish : that party which is the \\'eakest
cannot employ a single moment on the liberal
arts and embellishments of life; their whole
care is engaged, either in repelling the enemy,
or in saving themselres from. violence, rapine,
and death: while the victorious party, flushed
with conquest, ge nerally grow more insolent
and tyrannical, and either prepare for new
wars, or sink into vice and luxu ry .
Advan. But this miserable state of human nature
is not without some uses. War, which gives
a loose to the worst passions of human nature, gives frequent. opportunities of exercising
the best. Great conquerors have sometimes
been as remarkable for their generosity and
clemency, as for their intrepidity and rnlour.
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V\Tar is sometimes undertaken in the defence
of virtue, and for the repression of injustice
and lawless power: and then it becomes just
and necessary to check the pride and ambition
of a conqueror, who, without resistance, would
enslave and oppress the whole human race ;
and war may be, therefore, sometimes necessary for the sake of peace. Thus God, who
says to the sea, " Thus far shalt thou go, and
"no farther !" sets bounds to the violence of
man, and makes even his worst actions pro-

ductive of some good.

IV .-ON PEACE.

De.fin.
Cause.

is the ultimate wish of all men :
For, however we desire tc;> exercise our
faculties in the acquiring of knm~'ledge, riches,
or honours, we all look forw ard to a state of
peace and tranquillity, in which alone we
think we can enjoy them. In this happy state
it is that the merchant expects to enjoy his
riches, the soldier to be secure from toils and
dangers, and the statesman to lay aside his
PEACE

anxious cares.

R~GULAR

51

SUllJECTS.

Antiq. So agreeable to the mind of man is a state
of peace and tranquillity, that all the poets of
antiquity have supposed that thi s state existed
originally when man was first created, and
that it insensibly changed into a worse as men
grew wicked and depraved : hence the poetical
:fictions of the Golden Age, the Sil ver i\ge,
the Brazen Age, and the Iron Age; which
last always means the present age. P eace on
earth was the benediction announced by the
angels on the birth of' Christ, the Prince of
Peace, as the greatest benefit wliici1 coukl LH.:
bestowed on man ; and at hi;; birth, under.
tlic r eign uf ll1e TilHll<111 Emp••ror ;\ 11g11 s t11:-;,
the whole world was in a state of peace.
Advan. Peace gives the human faculties liberty to
expand themselves, and h as generally been
styled the Nurse of Arts; for, when a nation
is at peace, it generally rises to improvements
of every kind.
D isad. But however d esirable peace may be, if it
is not accompanied by virtue, it is often productive of as many evils as war. The riches
acquired in peace are apt to give a taste for
luxury and prodigality, and these generally
lead to profligacy, The quiet and ea~e 111en
enjoy in peace, have a tendency to make them

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

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careless an<l irreli gious ; and these dispositions put them off their guard, and make
them liable to becom e a prey to every other
vice. Nay, peace may lie said naturally to
generate war : for security begets self- suffieiency; self-sufficiency, insolence; and insolence, qu arrels. Thus peace, the most de'S irable thing on earth, by the depravity of
man, who is not virtuous enough to bear it,
becomes in the end productive of the most
-dreadful scourge of human nature, a state of
·"·ar.
Upon the whole, therefore, we may
-conclude, that, without religion and virtue, no
state can a fford true enjoyment; and that the
best things on earth, if not properly enjoyed,
will often be productive of the worst.

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V.- ON YOUTH.

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depends !
Disacl. But, with all the advantages and pleasures
of youth, it is certainly the most critical
period of our lirns. A thousand dangers surround it on every side. The inexperieuce of
youth is liable to be deceived to its ruin. Its
fondness for pleasure is apt to beget a dislike
to study ; and its hatred of restraint often
leads it to the indulgence of bad habits,
which can never be eradicated. An improper

D efin. YouTI-1 has ever been looked upon as the
happiest part of human life. It is to this early
stage of our existence that age looks back
with regret, and conternplates the thousand
satisfactions that are no,\, no more.
Cause. In youth the world is new; every object

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has the recommendation of novelt y. Th e
perfidy of the world is then unknown; aml
all things, but our parents and teachers, seem
to wear an agreeable aspect, and to imite us
to th e indul gence of our desires.
Advan . But youth has not only a thou sand imaginary pleasures; it has man y real advantages,
which are denied to al;uost en~ ry other stage
of life. Youth is the season for improvin g in
knowledge, for forming the mind, for gainin g
such accomplishments as make us agreeable
or useful to others, and consequ ently for
forming our fortune. YVh at a goltlcn age is
that \Yhich affords us such opportun ities of
laying up happiness for riper years ! and how
oucrht we to prize that part of our existence
0
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on which so much of our future happrness

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

REGULAR SUBJECTS

Cause. Nothing can be more agreeable to good
sense than to respect those who, by th<'i r
experience, must be wiser than the generality
of mankind; nor can any thing b e more consonant to politeness and humanity, than to
alleviate the infirmities of those who, by their
age, are more helpless and less happy than
the rest of the world.
Antiq. Age has ever been held in veneration by
the greatest and wisest of nations ; and those
who have despised it, have been looked upon
a" deficient in goou-brccding 0~ in hnm:rnity.
The Greeks and Rom ans, the most volishl'd ,
and sensible people on earth, were remarkable
for the respect they had for age ; and the J ews
and Christians, the only people who have
been favoured with divine revelation, are a
thousand times admonished in the Sacred
Scriptures to honour old age.
Advan. Age, therefore, has certain privileges
which afford it a certain degree of happiness
suitable to a latter stage of human life. Age
is naturally the teache r and counsellor of
youth, and is attended with the pleasure and
satisfaction such a superiority necessarily
brings along with it. It is exempted from
many of those trials to which youth is ex-

tutor, a bad book, or a vicious companion,
may often lay the foun<lation of the greatest
misfortunes in life. If such be the critical
situation of youth, how necessary . is it for
parents to be careful of the education of their
children! and how incumbent is it on child'
ren ·to be attef1tive to the instructions of their
parents and teachers ! If those things are the
dearest to us, which, when once lost, can
never be recovered, how superlatively dear to
us ought to be the time of our youth, which
is so soon gone, aml, when gone, is so irretrievable· ! To which we may add, that those
who misspend their youth, by wasting their
time, and neglecting to cultivate good habits,
give shrewd signs tha t, as they advance in
life, they will be guilty of the same nerrlect
I:>
and dissipation in every future stage of it.

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VI.-ON OLD AGE.

De.fin.

OLD AGE is ·a state to which all aspire,
though so few attain it: It is that stage of human life in which the mind acquires strenrrth
though the body grows weaker ; a starre"' in'
which the former gains respect, whil: the
latter loses it.

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56

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

m1mt naturally produces reciprocal acts o:·
kindness, which beget that union wc call
friendship.
Antiq. The ancient writers of morality are full of
encomiums on friendship, while the poets and
historians abound with the brightest examples
of it: the friendship of David and J onathau
in the sacred writings, of Achilles and Patroclus in Homer, and of Nisus and Euryalus in
Virgil, shew how strong an attachment may
b e formed by two persons of the same sex,
and to what a degree of enthusiasm this attachment is sometimes carried. Nay, some of
the ancients go so far as to say, that we may
b e unjust to others for the sake of our friend:
this sentiment is of the most dangerous tendency, and ought always to be opposed by
the much sounder maxim :-Socrates is my
friend: Plato is my friend: but Truth is still
more my friend.
Novel. The moderns indeed seem to have abated
of this enthusiasm of friendship, but have not
entirely extinguished it. Shining instances
might be produced, from modern history, of
the force of friendship; nor are our own
times , degenerate as they are supposed to be,
entirely without them.

posed, and in which so many unfortunately
fall a sacrifice.

D isad. These advantages, however, are only the

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

companions of a virtuous old age; for when
, the la.tter part oflifo is still accompanied by
the n ces of the former, it must be as miserable as it is despicable. "When this is the
case, age mu st be much more unhappy than
youth: it wants many of those satisfactions
which are attendant on the earlier starres of
life, and is often accompanied bv su~h infirmities as render life a burden;. infirmities
which nothing but religion and virtue can
support, and which nothing but death can entirely cure.
VIl.-ON FRIENDSHIP.

D efin.

FRIENDSHIP is an affectionate union of
two persons of nearly the sam~ age, the same
situation in life, the same ~e ntiments, a nd
(as some writers will have it) of the same
sex.

Cause. Friendship is in the 11ature of man.

As
man is a social creature, it is no wonder he
should love to associate with those of similar
dispositions, and to attach himself to th<tt
person who is most like himself, This attach-

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

REGULAR SU BJECTS.

Advan. There are strong reasons in the nature of
man why friendship should form so conspicuous a pa rt of his character. Every one
finds himself so much in need of a person in.
whom he can confide; he finds his joys so
much increased, and his sorrows so much
abated, when shared by a sincere friend, . that
it is no wonder we find few people of sentiment
without a person they can call a fri end.
Disad. But, however advantageous it may be to
have a sincere friend, it is dangerous to have
a false one. Infidelity in friendship has been
the foundation of many tragedies ; and history
is full of the fatal consequences of it. The
strongest friendships are generally formed in
youth, when we are the least capable of choosing a friend, and a greater misfortune cannot
befal a generous youth, than to make a wrong
choice ; for such a one will find it a hard task
to give up his friend, though he nl.ust do it, or
be involved in his crime. ·"Try your friend
before you choose him," is the wise caution of
all ages and nations ; and Dr. Young greatly
illustrates and . enforces this caution in his
usual masterly manner, when he says,
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship 'new
Is neither strong nar sweet.

\

VIII.-ON DRAMATIC ENTERTAINMENTS.

Defin. DRAMATIC Ent ertainments are so fo·ely
. a picture of the actions aml passions or
mankind, that they have been the farnurite
amusement in every age and nation in ,rhich
civilization has been cultirated, aml the arts
and sciences encouraged arnl improved.
Caw1e. Nor is it wonderful that a species of entertainment, so imposing and animated, shoulrl
so captivate the imagination and affect the
passions. If the historical narrative of any
singular transaction engages our attentio11 ,
::rnd interests us in the event, how much
more must we be engaged in the representation of a transaction, where the incidents
are not only more surprising than any thing
we meet with in history, but the passions
and sentiments which accompany them are
heightened and invigorated by beautiful
poetry, animated pronunciation, and forcible
action.

Antiq. The Athenians were so enthusiastically fond
of dramatic entertainments, that they bPcame
one of the principal conr.erns of the state.
Taxes were levied for the support of them,

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

and the public were admitted to them without
distinction. The Homans, too, were greatly
d evoted to the amusement of the Theatre.
Univ. Nay, we find even the most savage nations

REGULAR SUllJECTS.

vicious, they will., as much as possible, faro11r
that vicious taste, as the likeliest mct.hOll or
obtaining their object.

hare something like dramatic entertainments,

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accompanied by songs and dances, representing the .heroic exploits of their leaders in war.
Disad. But the powerful effects which dramatic
representations have on the minds and morals
of the people, lead us naturally to a reflection
on the delicacy with which they ought. to be
written. If the beauties of poetry, the surprise of incident, and the force of action are
united, to favour the vices of human nature,
to make the licentious gaiety of the fashionable "·orkl appear agreeable and inviting, and
the sober, modest, and regular conduct of the
virtuous and religious world formal, sour, and
diBgusting; if this be the gener'-':l object of
that species of dramatic representation called
Comedy, we shall easily see how disadvantageous it must be to the morals of society:
and as Theatres are under the management
of men whose sole object is money, we may
easily conceive they will favour the acting of
those 11ieces which will bring the most profit; and, consequently, if the public taste be

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IX.-ON FABLES AND ALLEGORIES.

Defin.

FABLES

and Allegories are li~·ely n·pre-

sentations of the actions and passions or llll'll,
under the borrowed characters of brntes or inan imate beings, and have always ran keel anio11g
the most useful compositions of ma nkind .
Cause. The reason why moral writers so early
adopted this mode of instruct.ion is obvio11s.
Representing the passions, virtues, and vice::;
of human nature, under the well known characters of brut~s, pleases us by our pcrceiYing the
likeness between them, and instructs us by inducing us to apply the moral to ourselves. Disagreeable truths always strike us more forcibly
when we do not think them aimed at us, as IH'
are not so much on our guard again st them ,
and do not feel that resentment which is so
natural to us when we are p ersonally accused
of our failings. Thus the parable oft he Rich
Man and the Ewe Lamb, in the Holy Scrip-

62

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

tures, struck David much more powerfully than
if Nathan had openly reproached him with
adultery and murder; and the fable of the
Fox and the Crow, gives us a stronger idea
of the power of flattery than. t he most inaeb
nious discourse in the world could do.

Antiq . .The f?bles of Esop, who lived so early as
of Christ '
six hundi·ed
years before the cornin"
.
.
b
still form an agreeable vehicle of in ~ trnction
to youth ; nor have the inventive faculties of
later ages been able to furnish us with a better
mode of laying the foundation of moral and
useful truth.

Advan. From a consideration of the efficacy of fables
and ailegories in the inculcating of ~1oral les sons, we are naturally led to admire the wisdom and goodness of God, in giving us so
many beautiful and striking examples of them
in the parables of the New Testament. What
can better show us the necessity1of a good disposition for the reception of religiou s truths,
than the parable of the Sower, who went forth to
.>ow, and scattered the seed upon different kinds
of ground? What can better display the tender
and amiable disposition of om l\Iaker, tl1a11 the
parable or the Lost Sheep? 'Vhat can better
exhibit the parental tenderness of our Almighty

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REGULAR SUDJECTS.

Father, than the story of the Prodigal Son ?
And what can give us a more awful account of
the last judgment, and the necessity of preparing for it, than the parable of the T en Virgin-.;?
These imprint the most striking images on the
mind, and give a form and suhstancc to rel igious and moral truth~, which would not Le so
well remembered, nor have so po1rerf11l an
effect on the heart, thou g:l1 irn.: 11lcakll i11 I lw
best-chos1rn worrls in the 'rnrld.
Thus, what at first sight seems to be only a ~porlire
and amusing- met.hod of i nstrncti ng- 11s. appe;i r,,
upon exall!iualiou, to be tlJ L' rno ~ t cJ1ic<tciuu.'
that can be conceived Ly the mind of" man.

-+-X.-ON BOOKS.

Defin.

BooKs are the great vehicles through
which the knowledge of one part of the human
species is c~nveyed to the other.
Cause. Books, like many other noble discoveries,
have their origin in the necessities of hum an
nature. The wants of m en soon induced them
to put these 1rnnts into 1niting, th;it otlwr<
be informed of their wants, and
induced
miP'ht
0
.
to supply them.

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

Antiq. No sooner, therefore, were men formed into
so_ciety, and inclined to cultivate knowledge,
than books were writ.ten to communicate it.
iYovel. The communication of knowledge, however.
was comparatively slow till the discovery of
printing in the fifteenth century; sincP which
ti~1e books have been so amazingly multiplied,
and knowledge so widely dispersed, that
printing may be said to have formed a new
epoch in society.
Aclvaii. By books, that science which is dispersed
throughout the human race becomes the property of every individual; and thus it is that
every individual has an opportunity of improving himself by the joint labours of the whole
species: they bring the most ancient times to
our view as if they were present, and, like a
telescope, enable us to see the most distant
places and transactions as if ,they were di\
rectly under our eyes.
Disad. But, as books are written by men, they are
as various in their merits; and, to the disadvantage of human nature, it may be observed,
that as there is a great deal of evil among mankind, so there are a great. many bad books in
the world. This observation naturally leads us
to reflect how careful we ought to be in the

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

If bacl companions i1ill
both disgrace and corrupt us, so will bad uoob:
if we are ashamed of being seen iYith a pcr~o11
of ill fam e, ought we not to lie as 11\\lt h
asI1ame cl to be Se en 11erusino· o an ill uook !

choice of our books.

Certainly: for those iYho understand human
nature will form an estimate to mu· ath·antagc
or disadvantage, as much by the boob IH'
read and are fond of, as by the compan y we
keep. There is no mistake more co mmon
amon g young people, than that of s11ppo<;i11g,
that if they have a multiplicity of lJOok,;, they
must necessarily have a great deal of ]; nowledge. The contrary to this is often th~ truth:
a o-reat number of ill-chosen books confuse the
m~1d, and form no regular consistent chain or
instruction; while a few of the b est bo.ob
affoul us clear ideas of what is worth know mg.
without loading the mind with what is impertinent or noxious. If I were asked what an·
those books which are the most indi spensable
in polite education, I should answer, threi!
. t011es
.·
and three e11ic poems ; namely, the
h1s
History of Greece, of' Home, a nd o11r o11:11
country; and the Tlia<l. of Horner, th~ :E11c1Ll
of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of ~11! 1 011.

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

XL-ON TRAVELLING.

Defin. VISITING foreign countries, surveying the
various productions of nature, viewing places
celebrated in history, ouserving t he different
customs and manners of the different inhab itants of the world, arc some of the highest
gratifications of which the human mind 1s
capable.
Cause. This arises from that principle of curiosity
which is ingrafted in the nature of man; that
principle, which, Dr. Johnson tells us, is one
of the most certain and permanent characteristics of a vigorous intellect. The love of
novelty, says Mr. Addison, is implanted in us
by our Maker, that he might encourage us in
the pursuit after knowledge, and engage us to
search into the wonders of his creation; and
nothing can more gratify this 1inquisitive propensity than travelling . .
Antiq. Those among the ancients who studied philosophy, and inquired deeply into human nature, were remarkable for visiting foreign com1tries. Almost all the celebrated philosophers
of Greece travelled to Egypt, and many of them
to India, in search of knowledge. Anaclm1·8is
the Scythian, who so much excelled his coun-

HEGULAR SUBJECTS.

G7

trymen, was famous for his travels into Greece,
and for the great improvement he derired from
that highly improved and elegant spot.
.Novel. But the moderns have gone far beyond the
ancients in their visits to the different parts of
the world : the ancients had a much smaller
world to visit than the moderns; and the imperfect state of navigation made even that
smaller world less visitable than it is at prese nt :
while the moderns, by their surprising improvement in naval architecture, and thei r superior
knowledge of Ll1e pru1icl'lie:; uf tlie lu,tLl., :u11c,
h:we made the ocean a high row! of cmnn11111ication with all the inhabitants ul. tl1e glub..:.
Univ. A communication with distant places by travelling is by no means universal. Those nations only who are in a high st ate of improvement, have their curiosity awakened sufficiently
to induce them to undergo the inconveniencies
and dangers of long journeys for the sake of
acquirincrl"l knowledae.
How astonishing is it
t>
that the great and populous nations of China
and India, should never travel westward to the
·· polished nations of Europe! This is a full
refutation of all their boasted wisdom.
Local. The nations of Europe show their superiority to the rest of the \YOrld, by their voyages

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and trarels to the remotest. corners of the globe,
for the purpose of accumulating curious and
useful knowledge.

Advan. The advantages of this disposition arc ob-

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REGULAR SU!.IJECTS .

REGULAR SUBJECTS

vious. lly examining the several opinions, and
observing the different customs and manners of
the different nations of the earth, we are not
only gratifying our curiosity, but improving our
knowledge of mankind; a knowledge which
must be gained by actually conversing with
them. Travelling takes away our surprise at
opinions and manners different from our own,
and leads us to make proper allowances for
them; and as · every nation has something in
common with others, and something peculiar to
itself, we are enabled, by a survey of them, .to
compare their advantages aml disadvantages,
and to glean from them what is \\"Orth y of being
imitated. In short, as Dr. Johr\son observes,
" All travel has its advantages: if the pas" senger visits better countries, he may learn
" to improve his own: and if fortune carries
" him to worse, he may learn to enjoy it."

XII.-ON POETRY.

11ro1Jortional ananrrerncnt
.
. tl·at
D efin . P oETRY
1s
1
°
.· of
different syllables, which produces a plcasmg
melody to the ear.
.
~ d,l'crhtful
is
this
melocly,
when
happr
ly
,
1
Cause. '-' o c o
.
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that
it
was
thourrht
to
clen
rc
ib
accomp is 1e ,
<
"
.
.
f
·01n I-Ie·1rcn . and wc find poets, Loth
on gm 1
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their Ycrsc "ith
anL-I modern • berrin
o
ancient
inroki1w some muse, or inspiring p01·:cr, to
. t 1"'1em m
. th en.. task
assist
' · This may be called
.
.
1
.
.
f
poetry.
but
even
phdothe poet1ca ongm o
• '.
.
. .
sop h ers, who <lo not trace it quite so hi
. gh,
suppose t lM. t there is· a kind of enthusiasm
which in3pires every good poet.
.
.
.
Th.
.
taiu
that
the
most
ancient
pieces
Antzq.
1s is cer . ,
.
.
o f wn.t.mi.er that remain to us are poet.Jc ; as
• if
men no sooner b egan to speak, than t~ ey
.. eJ the suavity and harmony of speakmg
p erceiv

in numbers.
The first attempts, in deecl ' were ru de ·' and
ote ..
tt . ed any
.
U others' u en~ r a. am
.f
1his art, l'k
I e a
erfection till a certam degree
o
l l ecrree Of P
.
civilisation had polisheu and refined society.
.
. - .. Uy does the . taste for poet
U1ll r So unne1sa
l ry
.prenl!l,
. t lmt "e
' fi n cl the remotest and cast

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cultivated nations hare their compositions in
ver:e; and even barbarians and savages have
their war-songs, which record the heroic deeds
of their ancestors.

Local. It has been a favourite opinion with some
~hilosophers, that poetry, like the other fine arts,
IS only found in perfection in warm climates.
Ancient
history, indeed, seems to favour th"JS
• •
opm1011;
as Homer' Virgil' and 1101.ace, were
.
natives of Greece and Italy·· but· mod ern 1llsi ·
tory informs us of Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden
a~d Pope, in our own country, \;ho may vi:
with t~e. ancients in every species of poetic
compos1t10n.
Advan. The advantages we derive from poetry are
so ~any tha~ it is no wonder it is so generally
cultivated: it pleases the ear, it assists the
memory: it gives beauty and enertTv to IJious
o.
'
moraI' and heroic sentiments; and has therefore always been adopted in th1e service of th
Deity, and in the praise of gr~at men. Th:
Psalms of David are poetic hymns to the
Almighty, and the hymns of Orpheus are
. dedicated to the heathen gods.
Dlsad. These seem to have been the o . . l
. . .
r1gma uses
of this d1vme art; but as man is prone to turn
the best things to the worst uses, poetry,

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REGULAR SUilJECTS.

71

instead of assisting and enforcing virtue, has
been too often enlisted into the service of vice.
It may indeed be with truth observed, that the
best poetry in all languages is that which has a
tendency to virtue, and that vicious poets are
never in the first class of writers; but still so
much poetic genius has been prostituted to bad
purposes, that we cannot be too much on ou r
guard against the seductive power of this art;
for it may with truth be affirmed, that the most
dancrerous
dress which falsehood can \\"ear is
0
fine lJoetry.

XIIl.-ON PAINTING.

De.fin. PAINTING is the art of representing any
objects we wish to imitate, by means of such
colours as appear on the objects themselves.
Cause. That painting should be held in such estimation will scarcely be wondered at by those
who consider the pleasure and utility which it
produces. The vivid idea which it instantaneously conveys, either of a person or transaction, gives it a power of impressing the imagination, and exciting the passions, which must
render it of great importance to society.

72

REGULAR SUBJECTS.

Antiq. It is hi ghly probable, as Mr. Addison oli;;:en es, that painting is more ancient t11an \Hiting; for as t he sight is the most perfect and
the most delightful of all our senses, it is very
natural to suppose men would soon begin . to
imitate those objects which gave them pleasure,
that they might enjoy them in imagination
when the objects themselves were absent.
Accordingly we find accounts of painting aud
statues in the remotest ages of antiquity.
Novel. As we have no remains of the art of painting
among the ancients, we cannot so well estimate
it as their poetry; but if we may judge by their
statues and seals, which a re still extant, we
must conclude that their p ainting was equally
excellent; though it is difficult to imagine that .
it , was in greater perfection in Greece ancl
Renne, than it was in Italy under Raphael,
Titian, and Michael Angelo.
Univ. The remotest nations, as well as the remotest
ages, have practised painting; but, for want of
being accompanied by other studies, their pictures are exceedingly deficient in the principal
requisites of the art. This is apparent in the
Chinese paintings, which show glaring colours,
but neither light and shade, perspective nor
expression.

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REGULAR SUBJECTS.

Local.

To the honour of our own country, and
the taste of our sovereign, this art has risen in
Enaland within these few years, to a degree
0

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of perfection almost unrivalled.
Advan. The advantages of painting are so numerous, that we cannot be surprised it has so
many votaries and admirers. It strengthens
friendship and benevolence, by bringing an
absent person, that is dear to us, to our view :
our curiositv,
in showincr0 us the lik e-'
l't aratifies
o
~
ness of those persons who have signalized themselves in former ages ; a nd gives us a beautiful,
a and a lastincr
illea of any transact.ion
a stron O'
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. of which we had before but a confused and
indistinct one; in short, it speaks to the mind
instantaneous! y, expresses an object powerfully, and remains in the imagination perpe-

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tually.

Disad. 'Vhat a pity is it that this art, so beautiful
and useful, should, like the other fin e arts, be
found so m~tim es subservient to vice ! but as
those who cannot read may be in structed hy
good rietmes. so the most grossly illit erate
may be corrupted by bad ones. This mu st
not induce us to condemn the prop er use ot'
the art, but the abuse of it; for it is an obserE

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74

REGULAR SUilJECTS.

75

R EGULAR SUilJECTS.

vation as old as Aristotle, that the corruption
of the best things produces the worst.

-+-XIV.-ON MUSIC.

De.fin. Musrc is an harmonious arrangement of

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sounds that deliaht
the ear, and
b
0
excite pleasing emotions in the mind.
Cause. The origin of music is in the nature of man.
W e are so framed that we cannot but be
p leased with melodious sounds ; and this pleasure answers so many good and useful purposes, that we shall not be smprised this art
has been so much cultivated and admired in
all civilized nations.
Antiq. The remotest ages of antiquity give testimony to the important influence of music. The
most ancient compositions are hymns, odes,
and sonbas·' and the Greeks, if we believe their
poets and historians, were as great proficients
in this art as in those of poetry, painting, and
statuary.
JVov el. The music of the moderns is said by sonw
to excel that of the ancients, and by ot hers to

fall much below it. If what they call co unterpoint be an excellence in music, it is certain
the moderns excel the ancients, as the ancients
were entirely ignorant of it: besides, as we
excel them so much in the number and perfection of musical inst ruments, it wo11ld be extremelv
ae if we should be inferior to them
• stran b
in the art itself.
Univ. All nations, the most barbarous as well as the
most civilized, have a relish for music. The
dances of savages are regulated by something
like measured sounds, and th ey are plrased
beyond measure wi th such plain simple tunes
as are suited to their simple state of society.
Local. I taly, in this as well as in the other fine arts,
has generally excelled the rest of E urope;
though Germany seems of late to be exerting
h erself, and not without hope of becoming her
rival.

Advan. The advantages of music do not stop at the
pleasure it gives the ear: it unites with the
se ntiment, and gi\ es language a fo rce a nd
beauty which recommends it to the hea rt: it
lli3pose3 the mind to derntion, or rotN'~ it t0
action; and has, therefore, always been W'rd in
n ·Ji.,. ious ceremonies ancl the evol11 tions of' mar"
ti<tl l'W r ci ~ e: bu t one of its greatc~ t. a<h-antagcs
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is that soothing tranquillity \Yhich it gives to a
disturbed and agitated mind.
Disacl. As music has an effect on the pas3ions, it is
supposed that improper music may have a bad
influence on the morals. The ancients tell
strange stories of the effects of music on the
manners of the people; but as no such effects
are perceived among the moderns, we may
conclude they are exaggerated. It is incumbent, however, on those who perceive themselves disposed to evil, by any kind of music,
to avoid indulging in it, as they would if

commerce for their mutual interest. The furs,
the deal, the iron, and the pitch, so plentifully
produced in the north of Europe, are wanted in
the southern clim ates; and the wine, oil, silks,
and spices of the south, are exchanged for
them, to the mutual benefit of each country.
Antiq. Commerce is as old as society. l\"o sooner
are men formed into large bodies, and arc ac _
quainted with th e production s of ot her co untries, than they naturally desire to purchase·
them with the products of their mrn. Hence
we find commen:e a 1uuug ti1e rnu::;L cdci11«1kd
nations of antiquity. and particularly !he
Phcenicians, whose Tyrian purple 1ras famou s
throughout the world.
Novel. But the commerce of the ancients was
trifling compared to that of the moderns, who,
from the extensive cultivation of the arts and
the wonderful improvements in navigation,
have made commerce the great source of thewealth of nations.
Univ. There is scarcely a corner of the world that
has not some kind of commerce; from the
E squimaux Indian in America, with his furs,
to the most distant inhabitants of the empires
of China and Tartary ; but the grand emporium of the whole 1rnrld is Great Britain.

XV.-ON COMMERCE.

\

Defin. COMMERCE is the exchange of one thing
for another : it is giving a thing we can spare
for something that we want, and by that means
supplying the wants of each other.
Cause. The origin of commerce, therefore, is in the
wants of mankind. Providence has supplied
one country with commodities which are \ranted in another, and has thus invited them to

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Advan. To enumerate all the advantages of commerce would fill a volume: but some of the
greatest are, that it infuses a spirit of industry ;
it produces opulent merchants, manufacturers,
and traders, who, by their riches, acquire an
independence favourable to liberty; it excites
to ingenuity in the mechanic arts, and forms
an intercourse with other nations, which has a
tendency to remove prejudices and promote
civilization.
Disad. But with . all those advantages, it may be
observed, that where trade totally engages the
attention of a country, and where every other
advantage is sacrificed to i1, that country often
loses its patriotism, neglects the fin e arts, and
becomes enslaved to a poorer but a more military people. This has been the case with the
Dutch: but Great Britain seems to have preserved the happy medium ii'\ this as well as in
other points. A dread of sacrificing too much
to trade gave occasion to that remarkable exclamation of Mr. Harpinge, in the · House of
Commons, ' Perish Commerce, so we preserve
the Constitution!'

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XVl.-ON THE EVILS OF GAMING.

D e.fin. PLAYING at Games of Hazard, and esp.ecially for sums of importance, is big \Yith evils
of the most enormous kind.
Cause. A love of gaming lies deep in the superstition, selfishness, and folly of human nature.
What but superstition can lead us lo believe
that there is such a being as Fortun e, or such
a power as Luck, which presides over games of
chance? vVhat but avarice, and an opinion of'
our own worthiness, can make us im:igine that
we are the favourites of this ueing? What
but the rankest folly and stupidity can induce
us to risk a sum, the loss of which would make
us completely miserable, for the chance of get.tincr one which would not make us completely
b

happy?
Antiq. The superst1t10n, selfishness, and folly,
which lie at the bottom of gaming, have been
the vices of all ages; and all ages have produc ed yotaries to thi g fictitious goddess, few of
which have escaped becoming, at last, her victims. The ancient moralists are full of their
dissuasions from this pernicious practice, and

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severe laws were enacted by the Roman Emperors against it. Almost all modern nations
have done the same; but, till the vices that
produce it are rooted out of the heart, there is
but little hope of preventing it by penal laws.
Univ. Gaming seems to have been the vice of all
ages and nations, and of all ranks of people.
The poor are addicted to it as well as the rich;
and though they cannot aspire to the Faro and
the Hazard Table, they can indulge their superstition, self-opinion , and folly, by a game at
Cards, or a share in the Lottery.
Dirnd. T.he dismlvanlages of' a propensity to gaming
are mnumerable, an<l have been admirably
delineated by moral and religiom; writers. At
prese nt, perhaps, it may be quite sufficient to
make a few obse rvations which are not to be so
generally met with. One of these is, that it is
an enemy to all laudable exertions fo r the bettering of our fortune by hone~t industry; for,
who will think of labouring to aequire riches,
or study trade or commerce, who hopes to get
them by the turn of a card or a die? The other
is, that it implies a ha;·dness of heart, and want
of sympathy for our fellow-creatures; for who
that has a grain of humanity can enjoy a fortune got by gaming, which has made him that

lost it miserable in the extreme? The last is,
that gaming is an enemy to God, who h as forlJicl us to covet our neighbour's goods; and accordingly we fine.I, that no man who has raised
himself by talents and industry, no man re
markable for a feeling lwart, no man who has
be.en attenti1'e to r eligious duLie;;, wa;; C\cl'
found to be a gamester.

6

XVII.-ON CHIVALRY.

Defin.

CHIVALRY

is a ~uhjeet which has often

~ngaged the attention of the philosophical his-

torian, and very deservedly, as it fonns one of
the most singular, as well as one of the most
beautiful, features of the human character.
Chivalry was a system of knighthood which en gaged its votaries to a strict attention to religion, an ardent desire to relieve the distressed
from the oppression of tyrants, and a peculiar
passion for vindicating the fair sex from the
violence an<l inj us lice they were liable to.
Cause. The original motiYes to chivalry ;:ippear to
have been a love of justice and humanity. The
knights-errant were young men of distinction,

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who, from a spirit of adventure and general
benevolenc e, devoted themselves to the service
of the distressed.
Antiq. This species of knighthood began soon after
the Crusades, and it is generally supposed that
the many great achievements and strange adventures which happened at that wonderful
period gave rise to it; for they awakened in
the youth of those times a thirst of fame, and
a desire to distinguish themselves by generous
actions till then unknown.
Advan. The advantages of chivalry were very great
at the time it began. Europe was then divided
into a vast number of petty states, independent
of each other, which were almost in a continual
.state of war. Hence the laws were weak and
ill administered, and had not force enough to
restrain the violence of individuals, who often,
in open defiance of them, committed the greatest acts of injustice and barbarity; and Providence seems to have raised up the adventurers of those times to make up irt some
measure for the deficiency of the laws.
Disad. But as the most generous designs may be
carried to excess, and the best institutions may
by abuse become hurtful and absurd, so chivalry, by the vices and follies of its votaries,

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tlt•rrcnerated into a senseless an<l romantic
"
passion, which at last became the ridicule of
the whole world.
The spirit of chivalry remained longer in Spain
than in any other part of Europe, till the Don
Quixote of Cervantes extinguished it eren
there, and seems to have put a p eriod to its
existence. But though the ancient chiralry
was entirely extinguished, there arose out of its
ruins a spurious kind of chivalry, called gallantry. This consists in a certain comphisance and deference to the fair sex, to which
they are certainly entitled; Lut, by being carried too far, it is just as absurd as the notions
of knight-errantry. \,Y omen were taught to believe that they were goddesses, who ruled the
affairs of this worl<l as they pleased ; and thus,
by exaggerating their power beyon<l all bounds,
it was in reality lessened and made ridiculous.
Hence that attention and deference, that tenderness and attachment, which are due to females, have degenerated into a system of
flattery, hypocrisy, and seduction.

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XVIIl.-ON PHILOSOPHY.

D efin.

PHILOSOPHY, in its original lan guage, signifies the love of wisdom : but its signification
now extends to the study of N aturc in all her
various departments, whether material, animal,
rational, or moral; so that all inquiry into the
nature of things is termed Philosophy.
Cause. The reason with which man is endowed, and
the curiosity which is implanted in him , must
necess arily induce him to the Study of Nature.
The world in which he is placed, surrounded
with so m any shining spheres above his h ead,
adorned with so many beautiful plants, trees,
and flowers, inhabited by so m any and such
various animals, must infallibly rouse his curiosity to inquire into their several qualities,
and make him a natural philosopher; while the
r elation he stands in to his fellow-creatures,
and the several du.ties he finds himself engaged
in, as a parent or a child, a master or a servant,
a king or a subject, obliges him to study these
relations, and so to become a moral philosopher.
Antiq. So natural are these inquiries to man, that
the earliest ages of the world were not without

REGULAR SU ilJECTS .

their philosophers. No sooner hacl societie s
risen to a certain clegree of cirili zation and i111 provement, than philosophy beca me the farnnrite stucly of the wisest among th em. Greece,
Inclia, and Egypt, swarmed wi th philosophers,
m any of whom hacl their schools, where they
publicly tau ght their opinions.
Novel. Modern times abound wi t h philosoph ers,
a nd with philosophers no less celeLr<lted tl1:11t
those of antiquity.
Univ. There is sca rcely a corn er of tlt r: \IT•r l<l \\ itli out some p ersons who distingui ~h lh cmsd 1es
by the study of philosophy. China is famou s
for these philosophic characters ; nor is I lllfo1,
Arabia, or Tartary, without them.
Local. But the seat of philosophy is Europe . H ere
it is that the great discoveries in astronomy,
magnetism, electricity, ancl all the arts and
sciances, have been made: here it is that the

.'

truest system of religion and morals is to be
found; and here only it is that every improrem ent in knowledge is rapidly communicated
by printing.
Advan. The advantages of philosophy a re numerous. From a knowledge of metals, mine!·als,
plants, and animals, \Ye derive a th011 rnncl 11"cs,
both in medicine, and the liberal and mechanic

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arts. By studying the nature of man, we improve in the art of government, and strengthen
and enforce those moral sentiments which
Providence has implanted in his breast.
Disad. But how is it to be lamented that philosophy, which seems so natural and so beneficial
to man, should have produced so much evil, as
to make us almost disgusted at the name? The
errors of some of the ancient philosophers were
so gross as to excite either our pity or contempt;
an<l their systems so crude and inconsistent,
that Cicero says, there is no opinion, howevP.r
absurd, but some philosopher has maintained it.
In short, so variolls, so numerous, and so contradictory, have been the opinions even of modern philosoph ers upon the p resent state of
man, and his future expectations, that, had it
not been for Revelation, we should, in all probability, have been in the sta te of the ancient
1
Greeks and Romans; who, as St. Paul has
justly observed, 'professing themselves to be
wise, they became fools.'

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OF A TllDIE A!'D ITS P ,\HT S.

<.; '.l

OF A THEllIE, AND THE PARTS OF WHICH IT IS
COMPOSED.

A THEME is . the proving of some truth. After
the Theme or Truth is laid down, the proof consists of the following parts:1st, The Proposition, or N arrative ; where we shew
the meaning of the Theme, by amplifying,
paraphrasing, or explaining it more at large.
2Ll, The Reason; where we prove the truth of the
Theme by some reason or argument.
3d, The Confirmation; where we shew the unrea.
sonableness of the contrary opinion; or, if we
cannot do that, we try to bring some other
reason in support of the form er.
4th, The Simile; where we bring in something in
Na tu re or Art similar to what is affirmed in
our Theme, for illustrating tjJ.e truth of it.
5th, The Example; where we bring instances from
History to corroborate the truth of om Theme.
6th, The Testimony, or Quotation; where we bring
in proverbial sentences, or passages from good
authors, which shew that others think as we do.
7th, The Conclusion; whrn we sum 11p the whole,
and shew the practical use of the Theme, by
concluding with some pertinent observation,

THE RULES VERSIFIED.
'

THE PROPOSITION, THE REASON, TIIE CONFJR~H­
TION, THE SIMILE, THE EXAMPLE, THE TESTJ1\IONY, AND TI-IE CONCLUSION.

THE Theme at large the Proposition gives,
And the same thou 0a ht in other "·ords conceircs :
The R eason shews the Proposition's true,
By brin 0<Ting Araumenls
and Proofs lo Yiew:
. b
The Confirmation proves the opinion's right,
By shewing how absurd's the opposite;
If that's not to be done, it tries t' expl ore
Some iJroof in aid of what was giv'n before:
The Simile an apt resemblance brings,
vVhich · shews the Theme is true in other things :
Th' E xample, instances from history draws,
That by mankind's experience prove our cause :
The T estimony to the \Yisc appeals,
J\nrl hy thPir suffrage our opinion seals:
Some useful observation comes at last,
As a Conclusion drawn from what is past.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

NOTWITHSTANDING that the Theme, from the regularity
of its form, seems to be the easiest species of com11osition,
I am much deceived, however, if, upon trial, this is always
found to be the case. A Theme is the proving of some
truth; and that closeness of thinking, which argument
requires, dema11ds a greater maturity of the faculties than
a subject wl1 ich is merely narrative or dcscriptivc, aml
where we are not so strictly tied down to a unity of design. I would therefore recommend it to the teacher, if
the pupil finds the Theme too difficult at first, to take
him to the Easy E ssay, and either to give him one or
two Points only at once, or without restricting him too
rigidly to the several parts, to require of him only what
he can collect upon the whole. This advice seems to imply, that I have made an arrangement of the points in
question; but, it may be observed, that this order is
easily altered, and that, where the pupil has a sufficient
capacity, it is really the best. It tends to give a precision
of thinking, and to keep the mind from wandering too
widely from the subject, which many pupils are apt to do,
who have a great facility of expression, but want a closeness of thinking. The propriety of this order, therefore,
must depend on the capacity of the pupil; and to this
point must all the care of the teacher be directed.

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1.-WELL IlEGUN IS HALF DONE.

Prop. WHEN we !~ave once determined upon doing any thing, and have actually begun it, we
may, with great propriety, be said to have half
finished it :
Reas. Because the beginning of every thing is always the most difficult : as we proceed, we
acquire ease and expedition by habit ; and the
labour lessens as we draw near to a conclusion.
Conf Besides, as we have a strong desire to finish
what we have once begun, that our pains may
not be thrown away, and our work be left imperfect, the latter part of a task is generally
prrform ed with more speed and abcrity than
the former.

92

THEMES.

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Simi. As physicians tell us, th at when the cause of
a disease is once kno1rn, the cure is half pei·formed; so 'we may say, th at, when any difficult undertaking is once begun, it is half executed.
E xam. It was the constant policy of Alexander the
Great to surprise his enemies. When once he
had determined upon an expedition, he lost
no time, and wa-=; generally re<i dy to give his
enemies battle before they supposed he had
begun his march. To this speNly commencement of his enterprises was O\ring hi s rapid
and unexampled success.
T est . There is a common obse rvation, that Fortune
farours the brave. If this observation be true,
one reason of it may be, that the brave generally begin their undertakin gs with resolution;
and this beginning, by preventin g opposition,
soon brings their designs to a conclusion.
Cone. With the utmost truth, therefo re, it may be
affirmed, that, when we have once made a crood
.
"
beginning in any task, the principal and most
disagreeable part of the labour is over.

II.-TRUST NOT APPEARA:::\CES.

Prop. NOTHING can be more imprudent than to approre or disapprore of any thing too suclclcnl y,
especially if it be a n obje ct of importance.
R eas. For such a mixture of good and bad, of Yirt11e and vice, is there in almost c1'cry thing we
see; so much is it the interest of falsehood to
wear the appearance of truth; that we ou!!ht
always to suspect what has a fai r outsiLk, till
time a ud expcril·Bce h a ve m acle u~ wvr·~
thoroughly acquainted with it.
Conf If it were not unsafe to trnst appP.aranccs, wc
should not hear the whole world caution us
against it; we should not hear so many u nhappy characters, both in history and in onr
own times, deploring the hour when they first
became dupes to the fair pretences of falsehood.
Simi. But in vain does the fish st ruggle when the
hook is in her mouth: she ought to have been
more cautious before she seized the bait.
R:ram. One of the greatest catastrophes in ;rnci0nt
history was occasioned by too great credulity:
the Grecians, arter ten years' siege, found it
impossible to take Troy ; a\1cl, pretending to

94

THEMES.

abandon the siege, left a large wooden horse,
with armed men enclosed in it; which, being
received into the city as an honourable present,
proved the destruction of it.
Test. In short, the wisdom of ages, as proverbs
may justly be called, tells us, all is not gold
that glitters.
Cone. If, therefore, we would avoid the most common of all misfortunes,-being undeceived too
late,-we ought, as much as possible, to withhold our approbation till we have experience;
and not trust to appearances, till time has
proved them worthy of confidence.

Conj. If it were not so, we should not hear so many
encomiums on the advantage of alacrity and
watchfulness in business, nor so many admonitions to dissuade us from losing a favourable
opportunity.
Simi. The sagacity of the Fox affords us a useful
lesson on this subject: the mom ent he hears
the hounds he begins his flight, and, by a constant pace, often avoids them, or at least preserves his life much longer; while the Hare,
though a much swifter animal, by frequently
stopping to listen, and delaying her Hight, fall s
much sooner a sacrifice to her enemies.
Exam. History is full of examples of the clanger of
delay: Marc Antony, by delaying his return
to Rome, and dissipating his time in the island
of Samos with Cleo1)atra, suffered Octavius
Cresar to supplant him in the favour of the
Roman people, and, at last, to deprive him of
his share in the empire of the world.
Test. Philosophical writers have observed, that in
the voyage of life there is a certain tide in
human affairs, which, if we are prudent enough
to take the advantage of, we shall safely arrive
al the desired port ; but if we neglect till the
tide is turned against us, we shall genera lly
find ourselves encompassed with diffi culties,

-+III.-DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS.

Prop. NOTHING can be more unfavourable to the
success of an undertaking than frequent and
unnecessary delays. ·
Reas. So many and unexpected are the disappointments in life, so frequently do things happen
contrary to our expectations, that unless we
seize the present moment, we run the greatest
risk of being disappointed.

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and disappointed of our hopes. How admirably does our great Poet, Shakspeare, paint
this critical situation !
There is a tide in the affai rs of men,
·which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

Cone. There is nothing, therefore, which we ought
to have more constantly in mind, than the
danger of committing any important transaction to the hazard occasioned by delays.

IV.-NONE ARE COMPLETELY HAPPY.

Prop. THERE is no solid happiness to be expected
in this world.
Reas. For so many and various are the evils incident
to human nature, and so frequently are our
greatest earthly comforts dashed with alloys of
pain and uneasiness. that no state of life, whether of youth or age, of riches or poverty, of
grandeur or meanness, is exempt from difficulties and troubles.
Conj. If this were not the case; if we were completely happy in the present life; if we bad no

97

THEMES.

troubles and vexations here below: we should
want proper exercise for our moral character ;
we should not improve in virtue, which consists in overcoming difficulties ; and we should
not look for a better state hereafter, where alone
we can be completely happy.
Simi. As the brightest mornings arc often overcast
with clouds, and the serenest days succeeded
by storms and tempests; so the greatest human
happiness is frequently alloyed with intermixtures of anxiety and pain.
Test. Tragedies, both ancient and modern, which
are pictures of human lifP, sufficiently show us
how uncertain is a state of happiness, and how
often the most flattering scenes in the beginning
have a mournful and tragical end.
Cone. Justly therefore says the Poet:
To hope for perfect happiness is vain :
And joy has ever its alloys of pain.

Since, then, an entire and unmixed happiness
is not to be expected in our present state, let us
not be too sanguine in our wishes to find it
here, but place our happiness on things above,
and on that state which approaches the nearest to it; which is, doing our duty in whatever situation Providence is pleased to place us.
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V.-PERSEVERANCE GENERALLY PREVAILS.

Prop. PERSEVERANCE seldom fails of making us
successful in any thing we undertake:
Reas. For though the steps are slow by which it advances, yet, as every step advances nearer and
nearer to its end, it must in time make a considerable progress, and crown our endeavours
with the desired success.
Conj'. To confirm this truth, ·we need only remark
how surprisingly any thing increases to which
we add only a little every day; and what a
bulky volume the exercises we write at school
would make if we were to collect them together
at the year's end.
Simi. The fable of the hare and the tortoise finely
exemplifies the force of perseverance: the
former, trusting to the swiftrless of her foot.,
delayed setting off upon the race so long, that
the latter, though slow, by continually advancing a little, got the soonest to the goal, and
became the winner,
Exam. We scarcely read in history of any fortifications, however strong, that held out against
a persevering besieger ; and in common life
we find the utmost difficulty in refusing th~
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99

importunity of those who incessantly solicit us,
and often unwillingly yield to them what we
ought to refuse.
Test. Dr. Johnson tells us, that diligence, which is
nearly allied to perseverance, is never wholly
lost; for, even though we miss our principal
aim, we gain improvement by pursuing it with
perseverance.
Cone. It may therefore be concluded, that if we
~~ke but little progress in our undertakings,
1t is generally more. owing to our want of perseverance than of ability.

VI.-NIP SIN IN THE BUD.

Prop. NOTHING is more important in the moral
conduct of life than to watch the beginninas of
evil, and to check them as soon as possible~
Reas. Evil propensities are easily conquered at first,
and require but a small share of resolution to
resist them ; but if we suffer them to grow1into
.
.
a
a habit, by flattenng ourselves that we can
resist them when we please, we shall in all
probability fall a sacrifice to them :
Conf. For, as it is the nature of evil habits to be
still ~athering strength, and growing stronger
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100

THEMES.

every day; so the power of resisting them becomes proportionably weaker, till at last we
are completely enslaved by them.
Simi. Nothing is more inculcated by judicious physicians than, the necessity of attending to dis~
eases in their infancy; so nothing is more
pressed upon us by moralists than the necessity
of attending to the beginnings of vice, which
may be justly styled the diseases of the mind.
Exam. The danger of not correcting the beginnings
of e~il is finely exemplified in the character of
Macbetlt; who, tho.ugh a man of great virtue
and hon.our, was, by listening to fortune-tellers,
and yielding to the ambitious counsels of his
wife, transformed, by little and little, into a
murderer of his king and a tyrant to his subjects.
Test. One of the most common ,observations of the
ancient moralists was, that nb man became bad
all at once; and that the greatest offences
. against virtue have arisen from the smallest
beginnings of vice.
Cone. How justly, therefore, may we conclude, that
we cannot be too much on our guard against
the first temptations to evil; as every vicious
inclination contains an egg, which, by being
cherished, will be hatched into a serpent.

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VII.-MAKE NO MORE HASTE THAN GOOD SPEED.

Prop. NOTHING can be more unfarnurable to
expedition in business tl1an t oo muc I1 haste,
hurry, and precipitation.

Reas. When this is the case, by our earrerness to do
any thing quickly, we are apt, not :nly to o\·crlook a thousand things we ou t; ~~t t 'l ha1•c rc~cmbcrell, Lut Lu Llo what we are alluut in :in
imperfect and bmwlinamamJei· •
t:>
t:>
Conf. It ought never to be forgotten, t)lat the mind
of man is only capable of retainina- a certain
number of things, and of exerting its:lf in business with a certain degree of swiftness . and
therefore, if we grasp at more thincrs th~n th;
mind will hold, and attempt to ex:cute them
more rapidly than is natural to uc;, we shall
. . certainly fail in accomplishing our purpose.
Simi. We see in nature, that those animals and
vegetables which are produced the quickest
are generally the least perfect; and we find in
art, that those structures which are the soonest
raised seldom last the longest.
Exam. The Roman general ' F1'a m1111us,
. .
from too
great an eageruess to overcome Hannibal, was

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most disgracefully beaten by him: but the
other Roman general, Fabius, by delaying and
putting off fighting till he saw an advantage,
gave that bold Carthaginian a complete overthrow.

Test. The fambus Dutch pensionary, De Witt, when
hew as asked, how he could possibly execute
all the business he did, made answer; " Be" cause I never do more than one thing at a
"time :" so truly just and prudent is that
pro.-crbial aumonition- " Fair and s'oftly."
Cone. If, therefore, we would not only do any thing
well, but do it also in as short a time as possible, we ought to be calm and collected, and to
make no more haste than good speed.

-+VIIl.-'TIS ILL PLAYING WI';l'H EDGED TOOLS,
\

Prop. As nothing is more dangerous than sporting
with those instruments which have sharp points .
and keen edges; so nothing is more perilous
than trifling with those follies that border on
vices, which wound the character and hurt the
morals.
Reas. Scarcely any thing is so common as to fancy
ourselves safe, while we are only playing with

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103

evil at a distance, as this distance lessens every
moment, and we are in sensibly inrnlved in
criminal indulgence before we think we have
consented to it.
Conf Laughing at vices, . instead of abhorrinrr
them, is generally the first step towards com~
mitting them. Those things cannot appear
very terrible to us which we only shew our
disapprobation of by ridicule.
Simi. The fly beholds the candle, at first, with vast
pJeasme and SRtisfrtrtion j s)1r i1";1ll(OllS ru UU U
it and round it, charmed with its warmth and
brightness, till at last, by sporting too near the
flame, her wings are caught in it, and the poor
insect dies a miserable death.
Exam. The vice of gaming affords a thousand me·
- lancholy instances of the danger of meddling
with those things that are not, perhaps, vicious
in themselves, but which naturally lead to
vice. How many thousands who have sat
down to play with an intention of only venturing a few shillings, have, by little and little,
been drawn into the loss of such sums as have
rendered them miserable for life !
Test. So truly just is the observation of one of the
ancients, ·"Those who tempt danger gene" rally perish by it."

.!

""

.

104

THEMES.

THEMES.

Cone. We may therefore conclude, that as human
life is naturally exposed to many dangers and
temptations \vhich we cannot avoid, it is the
height of folly to dally with those dangers
which we may avoid if we please.

-+IX.-TOO MUCH FAMILIARITY GENERALLY BREEDS
CONTEMPT.

Prop. THERE is no observation more generally
true than that our esteem of a person seldom
rises in proportion to our intimacy with him.
Reas. Such is the general disguise men \vear, that
their good qualities commonly appear first, and
their bad ones are discovered by degrees; and
this gradual discovery of their weaknesses and
failings must necessarily lessen our opinion of
them. Besides,
\
Conj- It is the nature of man to have a high opinion of any excellence he is not fully acquainted with: he is prone to imagine it much
greater than it really is; and, therefore, when
it becomes thoroughly known, the expectation
is at an end, and the good qualities which we
at first admired, having no longer the recommendation of novelty, become not only less

105

striking, but often produce indifference and
con.t empt.

Simi.

As

the frogs in the fable were frighted almost
to death at the log Jupiter threw them down
into the lake for their king, but, by degrees,
became so familiar with their wooden monarch
as. t~ despise it; so kings have often found, by
m1xrng too familiarly with their subjects, and
masters by being too free with their sriTants
that
th e)' l1ave los t t1ie1r
· importance
·
.
in propor-'
t10n to their condescension.
Exam. James the First, King of England, was a man
of considerable learning, and had as few bad
qualities as the generality of his rnbjccts; but,
by jesting with his attendants, and descen<linrr
t~ childish familiarities with them, scarcely an;
krng of England was held in greater contempt.
Test. "Young people cannot be too much on their
' ' ouar
er
d, " says a celebrated teacher, "aaainst
"falling into too great familiarity with,..,their
"companions: for they are sure to lose the
"good opinion of those with whom they are
"too familiar."

Cone. It may, therefore, be laid down, as confirmed
by reason and experience, that nothing requires
greater caution in our conduct than our behaviour to those with whom we are most intimate.

F5

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)

106

THEMES.

I
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X.-ORDER IS OF UNIVERSAL IMPORTANCE.

.Prop. THOUGH the order in !"hich things are

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placed seems at first sight to be of but little
consequence, yet experience convinces us that
if we wish to conceive a thing clearly, or perform any thing with accuracy, we must have
recourse to order.
Reas. When things are placed in order, they do not
only look more beautiful, but .are more easily
comprehended. Thus the rules of Grammar,
Arithmetic, or any other Art or Science, being
placed in order, give the mind a clear conception of what is intended to be conveyed; while
the same rules scattered in confusion would
not only be less agreeable to the imagination,
but less conducive to instruction: for, in all
instruction, it is necessary that those things
that are most easily conceived and best known
should be placed before those that are more
difficult and less known.
Conj. It is very remarkable, that when a great number of things are scattered about in disorder,
they appear not only more disagreeable, but
much more numerous than when they are

THEMES.

107

classed and arranged according to their sc reral
kinds and sorts : thus, whr~n we at first refl ect
ori the great number of a nimals receired into
the Ark of Noah, we think it impossible it
should contain them; but, upon a distinct inquiry into all such animals as are known, or
have been described by natural philosophers,
it wili appear that th ere are much fewer than
is commonly imagined-not a lumdrcJ so rts
of beasts, and not two hundred of bii'ds.
Simi. As a small army, well disciplined and arranged
in proper order, is superior to the great est
number of troops in irregul arity and confusion ;
so well-directed studies, and an orderly course
of reading, will gain more knowledge in a short
time than a whole life spent in detached and
desultory inquiries.
Exam." To count," says Dr. Johnson, "is a modern
" practice : the ancient method was to guess ;
" and when numbers are guessed, they are al" ways magnified."
Test. It is an injunction of St. Paul to the Corinthians, that, in the management of ecclesiastical
affairs, every thing should be done in order.
Cone. If, therefore, we wish to have any number of
things appear beautiful; if we wish to comprehend them easi ly, either for our ow n

108

TH EMES.

information or for the instruction of others, we
must arrange them in proper order, and class
them according to their respective qualities and
properties.

-+XI.-USE PLEASURES MODERATELY, AND THEY
WILL LAST THE LONGER.

Prop.

THERE cannot be a greater mistake than
that of supposing that pleasures will continue
as long as we pursue them :
Reas. For such is the nature of man, that every
pleasure palls by repetition, till, at last, it not
only becomes tasteless and tiresome, but even
disgusting; so that those who pursue pleasures,
by repeating them too often, change their very
nature, and transmute them into pain.
Conj. Besides, every one's expevience will tell him,
that the greater the pleasure the greater danger there is of excess, and that excess in every
thing is sure to be followed by disappointment

and disgust.
Simi. Immoderate pleasures are like intoxicating
liquors; they raise the spirits for a short time,
but afterwards leave them in a worse state than

THEMES.

109

before; while moderate pleasures are like
wholesome food, which does not raise the
spirits like strong liquors, but gives them a
pleasing satisfaction, whi ch is substantial and
lasting.
Exam. So much were th e ancient philosophers afraid
of indulging in pleasure, that it is said of Diogenes, that, meeting with a young man who was
going to a feast, he took him up in the street,
and carried him hom e to hi s fri ends. as one who
was running into imminent danger, had he not
prevented him.
Test. Dr. Youn g, with his usual strength of I hought,
observes, that, wheneve r we drink too deep of
pleasure, we find a sediment at the bottom which
pollutes and imbitters what we relish at first.
Cone. Nothing therefore can be more glaring than
the folly of those who, by pursuing l)leasures
too eagerly, defeat the very encl they wish to
obtain.

-+XII.-NO ART CAN BE ACQUIRED WITHOUT RULES.

Prop. As art is the power of doing any thing in the
best and most expeditious manner, the way to

THEMES.

THEMES.

acquire this power must be to observe those
methods which have been adopted by artists,
and to follow them :
Reas. For, as the best method of doing any thing
can only be acquired by experience, it is highly
reasonable to pursue those methods which the
experience of artists has shewn to be proper to
arrive at the art.
Conj. If rules were unnecessary, if arts could be
acquired without teaching, why should we not
see people become painters, or musicians, or
architects, without study or practice? On the
contrary, we see none of these arts can be
acquired without attending to the instruction
of masters, and following the rules they have

peculiar characteristic of human nature. Brutes
may be taught to do surprising things by habit;
but it is man only who can acquire these habits
by attending to rules ; and it is by these rules
that he teaches brutes.
Test. "Art," says Mr. Burke, " is man's nature."
Nature leads man to art, and art enables him
to improve and perfect nature.
Cone. Let those therefore who wish to acquire an
art, submit patiently to such rules as arc laid
down by masters in the art, as these rules will
in the end be found to be the shortest aml
easiest way of gaining the art we want.

110

111

-+--

laid down.
Simi. No man attempts to steer a ship who does
not understand the principles of navigation:
no one consults a person for advice in medicine
who has not for a considerabie time applied his
attention to the practice of it: and he who undertakes the learning of an art, without beginning at first principles and attending to rules, is
as absurd as he who thinks to build a house
without first laying the foundation.
Exam. An ingenious author observes, that the arri\·ing at art by attending to rules seems to be the

XIII.-AVOID EXTREMES.

Prop. THERE is nothing in human conduct we
ought more carefully to avoid than running into
extremes, as a medium in all things is the
most advisable course we can take.
Reas. All the moral virtues lie between two extremes. The virtue of tern perance lies between
gluttony and abstinence; the virtue of courage
between rashness and cowardice ; the virtue of
•i.·

112

THEMES.

THEMES.

liberality between prodigality and parsimony;
and so of the rest. Therefore, as true virtue
consists in moderation, in the restraining of our
passions, and keepi11g us from running into excess, the middle course is that which we ought
always to choose, as that which is the most
1
likely to lead us to virtue and happiness.
Conf Besides, it is so much easier to fall into extremes than to keep the medium; it is so much
easier to indulge too much in eating, or to abstain entirely, than to be temperate; it is so
much easier to be rash or timid.than to be truly
courageous; it is so much easier to be prodigal,
or avaricious, than to be frugal or lib eral ; that
we cannot be too much upon our guard against
these extremes, as they will certainly end in
disappoiutment and misery.
Simi. Thus as a pilot, whose course lies between
rocks and shelves, must Cflrefully observe a
middle way, and steer neithkr too much to the
rio-ht
hand nor to the left; so, in the voyage of
t>
life, if we wish to avoid miseries and misfortunes, we ought as much as possible to keep a
middle course, aud shun extremes in our moral .
conduct.
Exam. A striking example of the advantage of moderation may be seen by comparing the lives of

113

the ancient philosophers and the lives of king s;
the former of whom exceeded the latt er so
much in longevity, that, as Mr. A<ldison remarks, "one would think them a different race
"of beings:" and this, we may fairly conclude,
could arise from nothing else but the moderation and regularity of the philosophical life,
and the temptation to excess in that of kings.
Test. The . ancient morali sts are constaut ly admonishing us, that, while we cndcarnur to shun
Scylla, we shou_ld take care not to fall into
Charybdis; intim ating by this, how apt we
are to run into extremes, and how necessary
it is to preserve a medium.
Cone. Those therefore who wish to obtain health
and happiness must shun ernry kind of excess,
or they will infallibly subject themselves to
difficulties and disasters.

XIV.-EVIL COMMUNIC ATION CORRUPTS GOOD
MANNERS.

Prop. N OTI-IING is more certain than that a constant intercourse with those who are Yicious
and immoral will infallibly infect us with vice
and immorality.

J

,~ I
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114

115

THEMES.

THEMES.

Reas. Man is a creature of imitation ; and it is as
much impossible to avoid imitating those
manners which are constantly before our eyes
as it is to avoid speaking a language we are
constantly hearing.
Conj. Besides, 'whatever is perpetually present to
us loses its singularity. Vice, which at first
was odious, by too much familiarity becomes
less disagreeable; and, if it happens to be
united with certain qualities we admire, we
slide, by insensible degrees, into an imitation
of those characters which at first shocked us
with thel.r turpitude.
Simi. As a young unvitiated palate generally dislikes high-seasoned dishes and poignant sauces,
but at last becomes fond of them ; so a virtuous mind, which at first is disgusted with
vice, by too much familiarity becomes enamoured with it.
Exam. History, both ancient. ancl modern, affords
us a thousand instances of the danger of communicating with evil. None are more striking
than the example of Solomon : That king,
favoured by God so highly; blessed with wisdom, riches, and power, above all his predecessors ; and authorized by God to build him a
temple, and to compose part of the holy scrip-

ture ;-that king, by conversing too familiarly
with the idolatrous nations with which he was
surrounded, was at last seduced by them to
wickedness and idolatry; 'a nd it is a question
among divines, whether he ever repented and
returned to God.
Test. The moralists of all ages have earnestly
exhorted us to fly from the company of the
wicked; and Dr. Johnson observes, with his
usual acuteness, there are few who do not
learn, by degrees, to practise those crimes
which they cease to censure.
Cone. How justly, therefore, may 're conclude
with the sacred writer, that accustoming ourselves to the converse of those who are evil
will infallibly lead us to be evil ourselves.

XV.-NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION.

Prop. WHEN men are in the utmost distress for
the want of any thing, this want generally
prompts them to the means of supplying it:
Reas. For when men are at ease, and have no wants
to provide for, their imaginations lie dormant
and their faculties inactive; but when they
are stimulated by want, and pressed by neces-

116

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THEM ES.

sity, their imaginations are roused and their
faculties are exerted to supply these wants.
This situation urges them to try every possible
expedient, and by this meaus they make very
useful d{scoveries.
.
Conf This is agreeable to the general economy of
Providence : the necessity of food, raiment,
and a sheltering roof, cannot be supplied without the in rention of the head, the toil of the
hand , and the sweat of the brow. Providence,
therefore, in order to make men active, has
laid them under the necessity of providing for
their subsistence; and this necessity has given
rise to a thousand useful and curious inventions.
Simi. As the bird, before her young ones are
fledged, carefully provid es th em with food,
but the moment they can fly turns them out
to provide for themselves ; so Providence has
endued man wit.h inventive faculties ; and has
placed him in the midst of wants and neces- ,
sities that urge him to the exercise of those
faculties which would otherwise be useless and
unemployed.
Exam. This is wonderfully exemplified m the
accounts we have of savage nations, where the
necessity they are under of providing them-

THEMES.

117

selves with warlike weapons and implements
for fishin g, gives them su ch a power of invention, as surprises the more civilized nations,
whose necessities are provided for.
Test. Dr. John son tells us, that it was an excellent
observation of Pythagoras, that ability and
necessity dwell near each other. To which
we may add another observation, that great
r evolutions and great political exi gencies have
generally produced great men.
Cone. W e may therefore conclude, that, if invention is at a stand, there is seldom any necessity
for it; as necessity is almost sure to become
the mother of invention.

-+XVI.-REAL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE ACQUIRED
ONLY BY SLOW DEGREES.

Prop.

HUMAN

knowledge is at best only pro-

gressive :

R eas. For as the sources of information open gradually by experience, the knowledge arising
thence mu st be g radual also : in the same
manner as, by gradually ascending a hill, erery

118

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THEMES.

THEMES.

step we take opens new prospects to us, which
enable us to see farther than we did before.
C~nf If we seek to acquire knowledge too rapidly
we shall be too apt to neglect those first principles that lead to it; and for the want of
those principles, we shall find the knowledge
we acquire very imperfect and easily lost.
Simi. As the attractive power of the loadstone was
first discovered, then its polarity, or its tendency to the north pole, then its dipping
quality, and its several other qualities ; so, in
all human knowledge.. ._ we discover first one
point, then another, and so on, till·we arrive at
the last improvement.
Exam. We need not go out of ourselves for a testimony of the gradual acquisition of knowledge.
We can remember how slowly we gained a
power of reading at sight,, by beginning with
letters, syllables, and words ; how tardily we
advanced to a kn~ledge of arithmetic, bi
numeration, addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division ; and how tediously we
repeat the gamut, and the first principles of
music, before we can attain to any proficiency
in the art: and yet, however slow and tedious
these procedures may be, we find 1.hat at last

119

they produce a great effect, and enable us to
acquire the most difficult arts aud sciences.
Test. It is an observation of the ancient schoolmen
'
that Nature and Providence take no leaps : that
is, that they proceed by no violent transitions,
but bring about their ends gradually and
almost insensibly.
Cone. We may therefore conclude, that all hoprs of
acquiring knowledge suddenly are groundless
and visionary; and that the best way to gain
improvement, either i11 mind or body, is to proceed by slow and almost imperceptible degrees.

---+XVII.-PRIDE IS THE BANE OF HAPPINESS.

Prop.

NOTHING can be a greater enemy to true felicity than the hau ghtiness of behaviour which
throws others at a distance, and gives them an
unpleasant sense of their in feriority.
Reas. Every man is pleased to see the humble raised
and the proud lowered; and therefore every
man is fond of seizing every opportunity of
mortifying the proud man, by trumpeting
forth his faults; and as the proud are more
hurt than any other people by the discovery of

120

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THEMES.

THE!liES.

their failings, so they must necessarily be
miserable to have these failings published to
the world.
Conf. Besides, when we consider how few are the
real wants of nature, and how many are the
artificial ones created by pride, we shall find
that almost all the mortifications and difficulties
we meet with in life are produced by a desire
of appearing greater and more important than
we really are; or, in other words, by suffering
ourselves to be the slaves of pride.
Simi. The envy which is sure to follow in the train
of pride has been happily illustrated by the
fable of the Peacock; who no sooner begins to
spread his gorgeous plumage than the other
birds begin to cry out against his screaming
voice and his ugly legs.
Exam. Alexander the Great was so puffed up with
pride by his many victorie~, that he foolishly
believed himself to be a god. He had so often
escaped in · battle, that he thought himself
immortal. This pride led him to shew a
superiority in every thing ; and, by attempting
to drink a larger quantity of wine than others,
he threw himself into a fever, which was his
<lea th.
Test. The odiousness of pride, and the evils attend-

ing it, ham been the common topics both or
ancient and modern moralists : hut no obscrrntion seems more point ed than that 1r hicl1
says, of all human vices, pride scldomest obtains its end; for, by showing our mrn pridr,
we pique the pride of other men; and thus,
by aiming at honour and reputation, we rea p
derision and con!f~mpt.
Cone. VVe may therefore conclude, that if ll"C' hare'
a ny thing to be proud of, the only way to be·
happy with it is to conceal it from othrr.;; '·
for, as a proud man is con sidered as a co1111non
en emy, every man is happy to mortil)' hi111.
-

~

XVIII.-CUSTOM IS SECOND NATURE.

I

I

I

Prop. So easily do we slide into any actions we
are accustomed to, so readily do n-e fall into
any thing we have long practised, that use or
custom may be very properly styled a sl'cond
nature.
Reas. This propensity in human nature is established by Proridence for t be best and most
useful purposes: by this we acquire the arts
and sciences; by thi s "·e become habituated
to the most laborious tasks; and by thi :::,
G

122

TH EME S.

those duties which were the most irksom e to
us at first, become not only easy, but ag reeabl e.
·Conf If cnst.om had not this power of making
. every thing nat.mal to u s, if doin g thin gs
·often did not give u s a facility of doing them,
we should never be able to make any prog res;:;
in th e arts and sciences : every task we undertook would be as l aborious the last t ime
as the first, and all our moral <lutic.s, which
require self-denial, would never bC'come easy
or pleasant to u s.
,
Simi . Th e wise philosopher, Socr ates, in order to
sh ow the fo rce of custom , bred up two (logs,
of r cry different kinds, in a manner quite opp osite .to their natures. H e h ad a hu nting-dog kept in -the kit chen without ernr seeing
any game, a nd a hou se-dog bretl to hu11ting
till he~ became h abituated \ to the chase. O n
a' certain day, at the same inst.an t , h e placed
meat before the two dogs, and star ted a h are ;
when the house-dog quitted the meat, and
pursuccl the game ; and the hunt in g-dog-,
a fter hi s usual m anner, attended 0 11 ly to the
mea t, and took no notice of the hare, wh ich
was his natural prey.
£.Ta m. l\fr. Addison tells us, that he h eard on e of

I :23

T H EM E S.

the greatest gen iu ses thi s age has produ ce d,
who had bee n t ra ined up in all th e polite st udies of antiqui ty, ck cla re to him , that , upon
his bein g obliged to search in to se1·cral old
rolls and rrcord,;, not withstandin g ,.;uch an
employ \YaS at fi rst rn ry dry anll irk so me
to him, he at last too k a n in crcdi Llc plens m c
in it, and preferred it even to the read in g of
V irgil or C icero.

T est. So just. is that golden say in g- o!' P ythagoras,
" P itc h upon that com sc of li fe whi ch is 11 10,.;t
"excellent, a ncl cus1 om 1r ill render it the m ost
" d elightful ;" for, as l\fr. Addiso n ad mi rably
obse1Tes, incl in at ion will at leng th come o rer
to reaso n, th o11gh we ca n ucrcr force reason to
complr wit h inclin ation.
Cone. W e m ay therefore conclude, t h at, as cust om
is suffi ciently powe rful to change n at ure, we
cannot b e too cautious h o11· 'rn acc ust om ourselves to a ny thi ng th at is wrong.

>

XIX.-HONESTY IS TH E BEST P OLI CY.

Prop . To be· punctual in om engagements and
just in our dealin gs, thou gh it rnay sometimes
seem to be contrary to our present ad ra nta ge,
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124

THEMES.

is always sure in the end to promote our real
interests and true happiness.
Reas. A fair and honest conduct will always be
rewarded by the approbation of our fellowcreatures; and this approbation "'.ill naturally
be follo;ved by good offices and grateful returns; and these will certainly tend to promote our interest, and give success to our
undertakings.
Conf. On the contrary, that selfi shness which
tempts us to encroach on the rights of others ·
when we can <lo it with impunity, is rnry
soon discovered by those who are injured ;
and then our dishonesty will certainly meet
with its reward, which is, disapprobation and
contempt.
-.,Simi. As a plain road which is easily found, though
it may not be the shortest way to the place
we are going to, is pr~ferable to a short.er
way which is intricate and difficult to find, so
a i1lain, open, and honest conduct, though
seemingly less profitable than a conduct. of
art, is the easiest course to follow, and is in no
clan brrer of detection.
.
Exam. Sir Theodore 'J ansen, a respectable merchant of London, by unavoidable losses became a bankrupt, and was able to pay his

THEMES.

125

creditors but a small portion of the debts he
owed them. Some years after, he became successful in trade, and invited all his creditors
to a splendid dinner; as soon as they had sat
down, he desired his guests to take up their
plates, when, to th eir agrPcable "urprise, each
man found the money that had Leen due to
him, with the interest upon it to that \'Pry day.
This instance of honesty so endeared him to
the citizens of London that they elected him
to the lucratirc and honourable office of Cham. berlain, which he hel<l to the end of his_life.
Test. A Spanish Ambassador was asked how he
counteracted the intrigues of the ministers of
foreign courts? Upon which he answered, "by
"always speaking truth; for the ministry 11ever
"believe me, and are therefore generally de" eeived." It is a maxim worthy of being
written in letters of gold, that there is no method
so certain of defeating the plots of wicked men
against us as by acting uprightly.
Cone. Upon the whole, therefore, we may conclude,
that there is no mistake so common, or so
fatal, as supposing that artful, iPdirect conduct will promote our interest; for, both by
reason an<l experience, it plainly appears, that,
however we may be deceived by appearances

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126

THEME S.

of advantage, honesty is the most really
advant ageou s, an<l will be found in the end to
be th e best policy.

XX.- A MAN IS KNOWN BY HIS COMPANY.

P.rop.

NoTIIING shows more evidently the temper,
disposition, and opinion of any individual, than
the temper, disposition, and opinion of those
he associates with.
Reas. This mu st necessarily be the case, because
m an is $0 formed that h e cannot lon g take
pleasure in the company of those who are of
. opposite sentiments-to himself, and therefore
he will not make them bis companion s.
· Co11f. It is similitude of temper and senti ment that
classes · t -b e whole creation ~ we do not find
deer associate . with tigers, \ nor lambs with
wolves ; nor amon g rational creatures, do we .
often meet together, in the same comp any,
the \\'ise and the foolish, the l earned and the
iguorant, the virtuous and the vicious, the
religious and the profane.
Simi. Philosophers tell us, that the four elements,
though blendecl togetlier, have a strong tendency to separate from each other, and to

'l'HEME5.

unite themselves with their respectire kindrl'd
elements ; that heavy things ha\·e a tendency
to the earth, light thin gs to the air, hot thi ngs
to fire, and liquids to water. However founcll'd
this may be in the nature of bodi<'s, it is certainly true in souls ; the good a nd bad ham a
n atural dislike 1o each other, a nd therefo re a re
seldom found in each other's con1pa uy.
E xam . T his rule is so seldom liroken, that, 1rlicn
it is, it never fails to excite our surpri,;e. Th e
Scythians were a p eopl e r emarkauly saragc
and ba rbarous ·; and yet, in on e period of their
history, there lived among th em a ma n fam ous
for his wisdom, justice, and virtue : this was
the philosopher Anaeharsis. Tli e Greeb, 1rho
were ~ people of a quite opposite character to
the Scythians, could not h elp viewing the
Scythian philosopher as a prodigy ; and used
to say, when th e_y met with a good man among
ball ones, that he was Anacharsis a mong the
Scythians.
Test. The truth of these observations is confirmed
by the concurrent testimony of experi ence ;
\Yhich experience has given rise to so ma ny
proverbial phrases ; such as, " Dirds of a frat her
" fl ock together"-" Shew me your company,
" and I will tell you your manners."

128

THE~fES.

Cone. If, therefore, we are known by our com pany, how cautious. ought we to · be of our
company. How careful ought we to be not
to associate ourseh·es with improper companions, as the world will judge of us by
them, and will, in . all probaqility, judge
rightly; ' for such is the corrupt nature of
man,. that if vice and virtue are associated,
there is little hope of the vicious person's
becoming virtuous, but almost a certainty that
the virtuous person will become vicious.

-+XXI.-VIRTUE IS ITS OWN REWARD,

P rop.

may be d efined to be, doing our
duty to God and our neighbour, in opposition
to all temptations to the contrary. This conduct is so consonant to \ the light of reason,
so aareeable to our m6ral sentiments, and
"
produces so much satisfaction and content of
mind, that it may be said to carry its re\vard
along with it, even if unattended by that
recompense which it generally meets with in
this world.
Reas. The r~ason of this seems to lie in the very
nature of things. The all-wis.e and benevoVIRTUE

THEMES.

lent Author of Nature has so framed the soul
of man, that he cannot but approve of virtue ;
and has annexed to the practice of it an inward satisfaction and happiness, that mankind
may be encouraged to become virtuous.
Conf If it were not so-if ·virtue were accompanied with no self-satisfaction, no heartfelt
joy, we should not only be discouraged from
the practice of virtue, but should be tempt ed
to think there was somethi ng very wrong in
the laws of Nature, and that rewards and
punishments m~ re not properly administered
by Providence.

Simi. But as, in the works of natmc and art, \rhatever is really beautiful, is generally use ful;
so, in the moral world, whatever is virtuous or
praiseworthy is at the same time so beneficial to society, that it generally meets with a
suitable recompense.
Exam. How has the approbation of all future ages
rewarded the continence of Scipio? That .
young warrior had taken a beautiful captive, .
with whose charms he was greatly enamoured;.
but finding she was betrothed to a young
nobleman of her own country, he, without hesitation, generously delivered her up to him.
This one action of this noble Roman youth

G5

130

THEMES.

has rendered him more famous than all his
conquests.
Test. The loveliness of virtue has been the constant topic of all morali sts, both ancient and
modern. Plato has a famous saying in prais~
of virtue: he supposes that, if virtue were to
· assume a human form, the whole world would
be in love with it.
Cone. If, therefore, virtue is of itself so lovely;· if
it is always accompanied with the· greatest
earthly happiness,-a consciousness of' acting
rightly,-it may truly be . said to be its own
reward: for, though it is not denied that \·irtue is frequently atteml ed with crosses and
misfortunes in this life, and that there is
someth ing of self-dcni c;l in the -rery idea of it;
yet, as Pope expresses it,
The broaclest mirth unfoding Folly wears,
I
Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears.

Is----

EASY ES SAYS.

ADVERTISEMENT.
'fnE following Essays cannot be reduced to the same
rules as the foregoing Regular Subjects and Themes ;
and the pupil, therefore, may feel a want of the assistance
which these rules afforded him. For which reason I
imagined, that dividing each Essay into its principal
component parts, and giving to each part an abridgment
of its contents, would, in some measure, assist the memory, and remedy the want of rules.
I would therefore advise the teacher, after he bas read
the Essay to the pupil the first time, then talked it over,
and read it again
him a second time, to repeat distinctly the several heads of the Essay, as set down at the
bottom of the page. Thus, after having read and explained the first Essay, Ori the Importance of a fVellopP.nt Youtlt, I would have him remark distinctly the
number of heads, and say, "The first head is-' All de' sire to arrive at old age, but few think of gaining those
'virtues which alone can make it happy.'-The next is' That Life. is a building, and youth the foundation.'' The next-' All the latter stages of life depend upon
' the good use of the former.'-The last-' Age, there' fore, requires a well-spent youth to rµak e it happy.'"
; . Perhaps, if these abridged contents were to be repeated by the teacher before each head in the second
reading, as well as after the whole is read, it might tend
to imprint the subject more strongly: I would, however,
by no means advise him to suffer the impil to take them
down in writing; but if his memory should be bad, and
his apprehension slow, it may be proper to give'bim one
or two points at first; till, by habit, he bas acquired a
greater facility.

to

J

EASY ESSAYS.
1.-0N THE IMPORTAKCR OF A WELL-SPENT

YOUTH.

(1) A

to live long is the fervent \rish of
all the human species. The eastern monar.chs, who
wanted to make all human happiness centre in themselves, were saluted with the flattering excla mation,
"Oh king, live for ever !"-Thus all propose to themselves a long life, and hope their age will be attended
with tranquillity and comfort; but few consider that
a happy old age depends entirely upon the use 're
hare made of our time, and the habits we hare
formed, when young: if we have Leen profligate,
dissipated, and insignificant, in our earlier years, it is
almost impossible we should have any importance
with others, or satisfaction to ourselves, in age.
(2) The life of man is a building. Youth is to
lay the foundation of knowledge, habits, and dispositions; upo~ which middle life and age mu st
finish the structure: and in moral, as in material
DESIRE

(I) All desire to arri,·e at old age, but few think of acquiring those virtues which alone can make it happy.
(2) The life of man is a building; youth the foundation.

134

i(
I,

EASY ESSAYS.

architecture, no good edifice can be raised upon a
faulty foundation.
(3) This will admit of further illustration in every
scene of life through which we pass. The children
who have not got such a knowledge of the first
rudiments of learning in their infancy as they ought
to have clone, are held in contempt by boys or girls
who have played less and learned more. The
, -outh who mispends his time, and neglects his
imprO\· ement at school, is despised at college by
those ,rho hare been more industrious at school.
The man of business, and the gentleman, who hare
lost the golden opportunity of advancing themseh·es
in knowle<lae
while young, often find. themselves
b
<leo-ra<l
ed for the want of those acquirements which
0
are th e greatest ornament of human life: and "·hen
age has lost every occasion of advancing in knowledge aml virtue, what happiness can be expected
.

. \
in it?
(4) The i;1firmities of age ~v ant the reflec tions of
a well-spent youth to comfort and solace them:
these reflections, and nothing but these, '. are, by the

(3) All the latter stages oflife depend upon the good use
. we make 'of the former.
( 4) . Age, therefore, requires a well-spent youth to rcnucr
il happy .

J '.3 ;)

EA SY ESSAYS.

onkr of Proridence, capable of supporting us 111
the last stage of our pilgrimage.
Thus a mispent youth is sure to make eith er a
mi serable or a contemptible old age. Thi s P ope has
happily expressed, where, speaking of those 1d10 in
youth give themselves up to the vanities of life, lie
says,
S ee how the world its \'e tcrans rewa :·u,;,
A youth of folly, an olu age of carus.

II.-ON THE NECESSITY OF
TEA CIIEltS.

sunmssrox

TO

( 1) IT is a very <langcrous mi stake to i ma gillL'
that the mind can be cultivated, and th<' mann ers
form ed on any principle, but th:it of suhmi:>siun to
teachers and superiors : any other method is rntlically absurd and unnatural; it is contrary t0 that
rational order which do es and mu st prern il in all
other cases ol'the same kind. Tlie raw rl'crui tlearns
his exercise on the authority of' his officer, bemuse:
he kilOWS nothing yet of the a rt of \\' <J r, a!ll[ he 1rai ts
(1) Submission to teachers aml superiors n ecessary in all
Rtates of life, exemplified in the 1ec ruit, the patient, am! t!1c
Eph ori, am\ even in chiluren themselves.

:

,,..

136

EASY ESSAYS,
EASY ESSAYS.

for the reasons of it till he comes into action. The
patient commits himself to the physician, consenting to a regimen which is against his appetite, and
taking medicines of which he knows neither the
names nor the qualities, and while nature is ready to
rebel at the taste of them. The Lacedremonians carried this doctrine to such excess, that they obliged
their Ephori to submit to the ridiculous ceremony
of being shaved when they entered upon their office,
for no other encl but that it might be signified, by
this act, that they knew how to practise submission
to the laws of their country. Nay, the very children
themselves, who are the most intractable and disobedient to their teachers, think it highly injurious
to their own authority if their inferiors in age pret~nd to have a judgment or their own.
(2) It is an universal and established law, that he
who will gain any thing must give up something:
he that will improrn his understanding, his manners,
or his health, must contradict\ his will, and submit to the will of others •. This may appear hard;
but it is much harder. to risk knowledge, happiness,

(2) It is a law of Nature, that, if we gain any thi11g, we
must give up something. So that, if we wish to gain health
or knowledge, it must be by giving up our own opinion, and
submitting to .physicians and teachers,

137

'a nd perhaps even life itself, by adhering obstinate)y
. . ofour own sufficiency. So. that, after
to an op1mon
.
11
.
O'll fliahts and fancies of pl11losopl11cal
tl
h
a
ie 10
"
•
•
fanaticism, we may rest satisfied there is no rule of
education that has common sense in it, but the oldfashioned, and almost exploded doctrine, of authority on one side, and submission on the ot~1e r.
(3) Animals, devoid of reason, and gu ided only
bv instinct, frequently afford the most useful lessons
t~ mankind. A swarm of bees i8 an excellent pa~­
tern to all human societies: there is perfect allegiance, perfect subordination; no time is lost in l~is­
puting or questioning, but bus'.ness. goes on with
cheerfulness, and the great object is the common
interest. All are armed for defence, and ready for
work. so that in every member of the community
the t"'.o characters of the soldier and the labourer are
tnited. If we look to the fruit of this wise economy,
we find a store of honey laid up for them to feed
upon when the summer is past and the da~'S of
labour are finished; and intellectual honey Will be
the reward of those who follow so ii1structive an
example.

(3) The bee, an excellent example of the utility of
obedience to superiors.

.

138

EASY ESSAYS.
EASY ESSAYS.

III.-ON DIVERSIONS.

(I) IT is generally taken for granted, by most
young people of fortune, that diversion is the principal object ~f life; and this opinion is often carried
fo such exces~, that pleasure seems to be the great
ruling principle which directs ·all their thoughts,
words, and actions, and which makes all the serious
duties of life heavy and disgusting. This opinion,
however, is no less absurd than unhappy, as may he
shewn by taking the other side of the question, and
proving that there is no pleasure or enjoyment of
life without l abour.
(2) The words common ly used to signi fy diversion are these three, relaxation, amusement, and recreation ; and the precise meaning of tliese words•
may lead us to very useful instruction. The iJea
of relaxation is taken from a 1bow, which, mu st l.Je
unbent when it is not wanted, that it may keep up
its spring. Amusement means an occasion a l for-

(l) It is a grea t mistake to suppose that diversions shou!U
form the bus.incss oflife, the contrary to this being true.
(2) The original sense of relaxation, amusement, and
recreation, may <'onvince us of this.

13 ~1

. sakma
.
o f tl 1e Muses' or the l aving
• ~ asiLlc our
. . books
.
when owe are weary with study; and recrrat10n 1s the

refreshing of our spirits when they are c xh au~tctl
with labour, that they may b e ready , in due tun e,
to 1'($ume it again.
•
1· t follows, tlwt the
From these consicleratwns
.
idle man who has uo work can l1ar e no play; for,
L
who is nercr bent
? H, ow1·1can
11ow can h e' be relaxed
'
.
.. the l\1uses who is ne\·er with them. l . ·o1r]
1rn leave
. 1·.tes 1t him who is iier.er exh;rn~l,L'L int l
1
can p ay ie
busine$s ?
.
f J· f'
(3) When diversion become s the busmes'' o t
. nature is
. c h aug eel·' all rest 1wesupposcs
lubom.
its
· .
l
.
j
.
,
0
enJOV11JCllt.
11
H ', t has no vanety can rn1 e
"
' lC
e Ll1a ·
.
l , l;°'t, ·!tom s of
is surfeited with pleasure, and int 1c 1'. ci .
l
reHl'ct.ion would find a refuge in labum it.sell. An<
. 1 ,d . t may be observed, that there is not a more
me ee I
.
b .
tl n
miserable, as well as a more worthless ~rng, . ia
to do
a younLT p e1.·so11 o'·1' rortl'nc
l'
•
• 1d10 has notlung
.

t:,

but find out some new inty of d oin g uotlnng. i
. .
•
passeni upon a 11 I',OOI' m en , .111;1t
. 1t
( 4) A sentence is
, ll no., e,at.' antl a s11111 la r
th y .do uot. work thev s1w
. e
"
1 l .,. they
•
sent.ence seems pas,.ed upon . the ric l, " . io, ll

( 3 ) \Vhen uirnrsion becomes the business of lifo, it is no
l un"er di\·ersion.
,
l
.
.
· 11 m ust be em111ov<>u
( .,,4) Puor
anu.1 nc
· ' or ou un h<Jlp~ ·

140

EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS.

are n t ·
I J"
o rn some respect useful to the
almost sure to become hurtle
pu J ic, are
Th. bl .
nsome to themselves
is essm" rroes al
.l
.
• .
" e
ong wit l every useful em lo men.; 1t keeps a
P Y
lf
man upon good terms with him- •
se ' ~n<l consequently in good spirits and .
capacity of, pleasinlT
and being pl
cl ' . h m a
0
·
ease wit every
mnocent gratification.
(5) As labour is nee
h
. essary to procure an appetite
to th b d
e o y, t ere must als i.
.
. .
f
.
o ue some prev10us exer.
cise o the mmd to IJre are . r
<l 1
P
It •Or enjoyment . in11 gencc on anv other t
. r
. .
,'
. .
. .
. . erms is idLe m Itselt, and
J mnous Ill its consequences.
Mirth de en
.
:sen.seless riot, and gratification
g erates mto
soon terminates in
satiety and -F-sgust.

· by Pro,,. idence for the improvement of those faCll!ti es
\vhi ch are given to us; and if this time is no t pro p erl y m anaged, our faculties are not only left uncultivated, but generally deprave d a nd spoiled.
(2) It is a very mistaken notion, common to
youth, to inrn gine that they hare a g reat deal of timP
beforehand, a nd therefore they can affo rd to squa nd er
a way the present in idle amuseml'llts; but th<'y 011 g ht.
to consid er, that though th ere is a probabi li ty they
have a proporlion of time in r eversion, there is not
:i1~ y th ing ]il;, ;i rrrt:iin ty nf it.
'\\'r. 1~rrrl not r~•111·
to the weekly bills of mortali ty, to prove that yout h
is li able to death: ernry one's circle of acquai11tancL'
will furni sh him with mclanclioly instances of the
brittler.ess of the age of youth; and e\·ery churchyard will exhibit. th e tears of parents upon the
tombston es of their children.
(3) But should P rovidence afford us time by polongiug our life to its latest period, it cannot be said
that. we have a moment to spare. Every day brin gs
its duty; to-morrow is not in our power : and if
\re borrow of the present time to p ay in the fu ture,
0

, I

iJ ' '

r,~

l' i
' i ~ 'i

:

!:

1\ '

'' r i
I

1-. I

i '.

Li

IV.-ON TIME.
( })

11.T

•

•

'

Is so valuhble and
th"
IW lll<T SO
muc \\·aste<l as time. It is b
.
"
Ya good or a bad use
. .
o f time that we are h
.
.
. l<l
appy or miserable, both in this
"or and the next A
d ·
. .
. state tune is allott~d us
.nOTHING

h .

1-11

.

:·;·

...

(5) J.abour of mind and b 0 cl
l1ealth of both.
Y equally necessary for the

(2) Youth is apt to be de ceived in counting upon much
time to come.
(3 ) The longest life cannot affo rd to run in debt wit h tim e,
er burden to-morrow with the business of to-day.

(I) Our happiness in this world and the
upon a proper use of time.
next depends

l

I

~.,1•

I'

11r ,j
'if '

tJ ;

I

I 1, ·,:. II
"

'

~

142

. I

~

EASY ESSAYS.

m:~ run in debt to an inexorable creditor, who never
forgives us either principal or interest; for we must
exert ourselves with double industry to recover our
time, or lose it for ever.

(

! '

'

~·

A sense of this truth made the Emperor Titus,
when he had passed the <lay without <loing some
good action, cry out that a day was lost ; upon
·~hich . Dr. Young, in his strong, picturesque style,
says,
How wre tched he
That's hauntc(l hy the ghost of murrle1"<l time !
An<l he how happy
Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile,
Nor like the P<irthian wound him as they fly!

.,
'.

--+-V.-ON .MODESTY.
I

(1)

i

'

is an humble opinion of our own
merit, when compared with that of others. So refined a compliment to the superiority of those with
whom we com·erse cannot fail of prepossessing
them in our favour, and conciliating them to our
interests.
MODESTY

(l) Modesty a r:,,fincd camplirnen(to)hose we address.

EASY ESSAYS.

1-13

(2) The wise aythol· and governor of nature has
implanted a love of modesty in the breast of c\·cry
one, that its opposite vices, presumption and affccta1ion, should be checked by universal disapprob<1tio11.
The modest man is sure to have the world in his
favour, and the presumptuous man i.c; as certain to
have everv man his opponent.
(3) So. naturally does moclcsty a rise from a j:1 st
knowleclae of ourselres and others, or in other
words, s~ necesrnrily does it imply good sen se in its
possessor, that Ci~ero Jells H S, h e _never l1all a good
opinion of a young orator, who chd not shew g re ~t
modesty, and even timidity in his first a ppearan ec Ill
public: that same sensibil ity which lead s u s to a
proper estimate of our merits, and induces_us to attempt such actions as will excite the public esteen~,
aives us at the same time a just esteem for the mcnt
~f others, and makes us feel how ~uch they expect
from us. Conceit and presumption are an insult to
those we converse with : they tarnish the most
brilliant qualities, while modesty gi~·es those qualit ies a double lustre; and, in some measure, makes
up for the ~vant of them.

(2) All are friends to the modest, and enemies to the presumptuous man.
(3) Modesty a proof of good sense.

144

,

( 4) Ilu t howen~r amiable motlesty may be in men,
it is the peculiar ornament of the fair sex, and is
essential to the beauty of every other accomplishment W'hile modesty remains, the most homely
form has a beauty; and when this beauty is lost, the
finest form only reminds us that it is. impossible for
a woman to be ami able without it. It h as been
observed, that all the virtues' are represented by
painters an<l statuaries under fem ale shapes: but if
any of the virtues has a more peculiar title to appear in 1he form of that sex, it is modesty.

-+-VI.-ON FLATTERY.

( 1)

is folse prai se ; either when it . is
bestowed on an undeservin g obj ect, or when it is
given in a greater d egree than the obj ect of our praise
is entitled to. It has its origin in the tco hi gh
opinion ,re generally have of our own excellence,
and the selfishness of those who wish to impose
llpon us. The flatterer has always an interested
FLATTERY

( 4) Modesty the peculiar ornament of the fair sex.
(I) Fluttery arises from the pride of the person flutt ered,

and something

<l e~ i g n i ng

in th e llatterer.

EASY E SS AY S.
I

motive, and often a base one. The person flattered
is always disposed to listen to the flatterer, from th;it
self-love and pa r tiality to ourselves which is the
origin of so many mischief<; among mankind.
(2) A-~-nind open to fl attery is always in a dan aero us situation; it credits wh ateve r is spoken in it..>
b
praise, and mu st therefore think those 'rho d o not
offe r the incense of aclnl ation a re eithe r blind to it s
m eri ts or enries them ; thi s p ro( lnc es the arroga ncC'.
ill-natmC', and sel f- sufliciency, which ~tre almost inseparable from such persons, ant! freque ntly urges
them to the rnosl ridiculous exped ients to tempt
others to fl atter them. So far as this orer-fornln ess
fo r praise operat es, it must retard our i111provC'ment:
·fo r who will stri\•e to gai n any new accomplishment,
who believe they are already accomplish ed? \'Vho
will endure the labour of acquiring advanta ges who
are told either that they do not ' rnnt them, or that
they have them already.
(3) No disposition, therefore, can be more de. trimental to youth than a love of flatte ry ; both as
it may prevent their improvenwnt a nd make them

(2) Flattery particularly uan gerous to youtl), as it prc,·en ts their improve ment.
(3) A Hattcrcr always to be suspcctetl of some insidious
intention.
H

'!I

146

.I
;I
'!

EASY ESSAYS.

too fond of · the person who pretends to admire
them : who is always to be suspected of some vile
and disingenuous purpose ; for those who basely
violate truths by gross flattery can scarcely be supposed to possess any virtue

-+VIJ.-ON DRESS.

(1)

are several things of very great consequence in life which, at first sight, seem very·
insignificant. The dress we appear in is supposed
to be of' little importance to our moral character;
and, therefore, an impropriety in dress is frequently
indulged by those who would be much ashamed that
it should be thought any imputation on their virtue
or understanding : and yet nothing is more certain
than t~at our dress, as we~l \ as our .behaviour, is a
true picture of what passes m our mmds; and that
here cannot be an oddity or impropriety in the one
but there must be the same oddity or impropriety
in the other. If we dress remarkably finer (and, as'
we think, better) than those we associate with, what
is it but the very same pride which induces us to·
THERE

(!) Dress, a picture of what passes in our minds.

147

EASY ESSAYS.

take the lead in convers;tion, and to consider ourselves as more v\'orthy of attention than others?
(2) The same sense of decency and propriety,
therefore, which teaches us to regulate our behaviour in company, ought to teach us a decency aucl
propri~ty of clt:ess; for those who understand human nature will judge of the rectitude of our minds
by the dress we appear in, as much as by our language and deportment in conYersation.
(3) But an impropriety in dress does not only
affect the moral character, it affects also what people
of dress value infinitely more, the taste. Nothing
can be stronger proof of the good or ill taste of a
p erson than the dress he appears in. Every one
who dresses for public approbation becomes a kind
of painter or statuary; and we shew what we think
would be elegant in a picture or a statue by ''"hat
we make use of to adorn our own persons. L et us
be careful, therefore, of our dress, as we value the
opinion of the world with regard to our taste in
the polite arts. Besides, as any thing glaring and
particular catches the eye, and will not suffer us to
pass over the person so adorned without due notice

(2) ,Dress, sometimes a test of good sense.
(3) Dress, :i criterion of our taste in painting and statuary.

H2

148

EASY ESSAYS.

· EASY ESSAYS.

and observation, so we may be certain, that if our
sin gularit y in <lress does not gain praise, it will
infallibly draw us into ridicule arnl contempt.
( 4) To these considerations we may add, that as
first impressions are often of the greatest importance
in life, and as dress forms a great part of the impression we make at first sight, how impolitic is it
not to be attentive to a circumstance on which so
much of our future fortune depends! The secret of
dressing gracefully, and so as to excite the approbation as well as the not.ice of those we cbnverse
with, is known but to a few ; but every one m ay be
sure of escaping censure, by attending to neatness
and avoiding finery; and as fashion forms so great
a part of propriety in dress, 're cannot do better than
to follow the advice of our most elegant poet, Pope :
In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold,
Alike fantastic if too new or bid:
Be not the first by whom the new are tried, ·
Nor yet the last to lay the old asid e.

Essay on Criticism.

(4) Dress of great importnnce~to the first impression we
mnke upon others.

VIII.-ON HISTORY.

( 1) HISTORY is the foundation of all useful anJ
elegant knowledge : it acqu aints us with the transactions and characters of mankind , from the remotest
antiquity to the present times, and gives us a kno\\"ledae of the most distant nations, as 'r ell as our own.
"
It gives us a view of th e powers or man, by showing
how he has improved, from the most b arbarous and
savage state of society, to that state in which we
now see the most poli shed nations of Eu rope.
, (2) What a different pictu re do the same creatu'res
exhibit employed in hunting, fi shin g, and making
war on each other with the most unrelenting cruelty; and, as we now see them, improving life with
useful arts, and embellishing it with ornaments and
elegancies suited to a state of refi nement 1-'Without
history man would have continued nearly in the state
in which he happened to be placed, for want of
those improvements which he can only receive by
t he history of his own species.

(l) The most useful of human knowledge derived from
hi:;tory.
(2) History exhibits the different states of society, and the
causes of them.

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EASY ESSAYS.

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(3) But history does not only improve the arts
and add to the elegancies of life; it is of the utmost
to the morals of mankind . It '~h ows,
.consequence
.
m th e .history of every nation, how essential moralitv
and virtue are to the h appiness of a state, and ho~~
constantly vice and .irreli
.
·
oaion end i'n nat·1.on a l rum.
(4) This is not only a useful lesson to communities, but to indi~id~als; for every man, as the poets
have expressed it, is a little kingdom; ifthe inferior
~01rers and facu~ties of his body are in due subjecho~ to. the supenor powers and faculties of his soul,
he Is like a .w~ll-governed state; every part of the
creature is in peace and tranqu1'll1'ty, an
. . d conse·quently happy: if, on the contrary, his inferior
~owers rebel against the superior, there is the same
rnten~al commotion in the individu al as there is in
a .nation when it is in a state of civil wa1·· 'l'he same
lustory, there.fore, .which show~ us that the happiness of a nat10n depends on i:ts virtue, informs us
. that the happiness of individuals entirely depends
on the same principle; and that ruin will as certainlv
_be_the consequence of vice in a single person as
is m the community at larae
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( 3 ) Risto? gives us a lesson of morality.
( 4) The In story of a state and the history of an indi1"cl 1
are perfectly parallel.
1 ua

IX.-ON TASTE.

( l) As young p eopl e become co nYersant with the
world, they will observe scarcely any thing so much
talked of, and so little understood, as taste, They
hear of a taste in dress, of a taste in mu sic, of a taste
in furniture; and, as they see these vary so oft.e n
with the fashion, they are apt to suppose that
fashion and taste are the same thing, and that
neither of them is any thing more than whim and
fancy: this, however, is confounding two things very
different in their natures.
(2) Fashion is indeed only a creature of the
imagination: it varies like the 1Yinds, and, if the
expression will be allowed me, is constant in nothing
but inconstancy. But taste has fixed and permanent principles: it sees that a long flowing dress
must always be more graceful than a short one;
that a building with two wings must always be more
b eautiful than a building wi th one ; and that a
landscape diversified with woods, hills, and rivers,
must always be more agreeable than the picture

(!) Taste and fashion distinct an cl different things.
('.!) The principl% of fa shion are nothing but wh im and
fancy, hut those of taste are beauty and proporti on.

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of a barren heath. Erery one has taste enough to
acknowledge these distinctions; and every one sees
that the beauty of these objects does not depend
upon the fashion, but is in the natme of things.
(3) It is a very common, as well as a very discouraging opinion to young people, that taste is a
faculty so p'eculiarly the gift of Nature, that Art can
no more improve than produce it. Whereas the
truth is, that task is no more the gift of N atme than
C\'ery other faculty of the' mind. It is certain that
some people are born with quicker conceptions,
better memories, and finer imaginations, than others;
but it is as certain that this difference is in general
but very small, and that it is application and industry that form the grand difference among the
generality of mankind.

(4) Every one is born with a sufficient degree of
taste to distinguish himself from the vulgar, if he is
not wanting in the cultivatiqn of this faculty ; for
as, in the natural world, a\ weak constitution, if
strengthened by exercise and temperance, will be fitter for labour than a strong constitution enervated

(3) Taste is only born with us, as memory and the other
faculties of the mind are.
(4) The different degrees of taste we find in different persons are owing more to cultirntion than to nature.

15:3

EASY ESSAYS.

F.ASY ESSAYS.

by i 11 l1ab 1't s an cl cl1'ssipation ,· so it may with cer. t y b e affi1·med ' that those \rho are . born
tam
. with
but a. small share of taste will, by cu1tivatmg a1.1u
.
.
't become much more remarkable tor
l
nuprovrng 1 '
this desirable quality than those who are emlowcc
b Nature with a greater share of it, and neglect

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such studies as tend to promote and rclrnc it.

-+X.- ON PARENTAL AFFECTIO;;-.

( 1) T1-m love and tendern ess whi ch the pa.rc'.1 t
bears to the child is the strongest an<l dcarc~ t tic i.n
Nature. Providence h as kindly irnplantcd t\11:;
passion in the parent's breast, out of lo\'C to ~he
. .
,.
if this passion
either did not exist,
·
0 ft ;;pnng; 1or,
.
d
.
.
l
ss
derrree
the
earth \rnuld soo n be
or ex1ste lll a. e
,, .,
but
the
unremitting
care of
s
nothinrr
o
..
unpeopl ed , a
the parent can possibly preserrc the hle of the
helpless infant.
.
. .
()
2 Th eparen,t the refore ' \\·e sec ' 1s but. an. rnstr u. t l1e h an d of Proridence '. and it is to the
ment m

(l} Parental affection implanted by Pruvidcnce for the
preservation of the species.
.
.
(2) To God, tliere!Ore, the uni1·crsal pa;-c11t, we arc imldJted
for parental aff~c!ion. .
H ;)

154

EASY ESSA YS.

E_-\SY ES SAY S.

Almighty Father of all things, the unirnrsal parent,
we owe the love and ten derness we ex p~ri ence in
our greatest need.

·deteste d in all ages and nations; for, if ingratit mll'
to a common benefactor is justly deemed one of th e
blackest crimes, how black must be that ingratitude
\rhen that benefactor is a parent! As a grateful
disposition, especially towards a parent, is a stro~1g
indication of a virtuous mind, so we cannot easd y
suppose that those who a re un gra tefu l to parents
·can be grateful to others, or that their hearts can
ha,·e that tenderness whi ch is the basis of a lm o~t

(3) Instances of the force of parental affection
are innum erable: witness tha t of the Grecian father,
who died for joy when· he heard his son ' ms conqueror in th e Olympic Games ; and that ofZaleucus,
Prince of the L ocrians, who, when his son had
committed a crime for which the law cond emned
him to lose both his eyes, his father consented to
lose one of his own, that one of his. son's micrht
be
0
spared.
( 4) Parental affection naturally leads our
thou ghts to that duty and gratitude which children
owe their parents for the care and tenderness 'rith
1rhicl1 they have brought them up. This duty of
children to parents was di gnified by the Romans
to an act of piety; and filial . piety is ahrays celebrated by the ancients as one
the noblest of the
human virtues.
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( 5) Ingratitude in a child to a parent is so unir ersally odious, that a thankless child has been
( 3 ) Instances of the force of parental affection are innumerable.
(4) P arental affection shows the duty of filial alfec~tion.
(5) Ingratitude in a child to a parent the most odious of
crimes.

erery other virtue.

XI.-ON GOOD i\IANl\ERS.

(1) A wRin:R, who h ad great kno wl edge of:
mankind, has defi ned good manners to be the art ot
-making those people easy with whom we converse;
.n or can this definition Le much mended.
(2) The three sources of good manners are, good
nature, humility, an<l good sense: so that any person who is endowed with these qualities will learn

(1) Good manners the art of makin g people easy.

(2) Good manners arise from humility, good nature, and.
goo d sense ; an <l. 1·11 ma11ne1·s from the· 011pos1te qual1t1 es.

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157

EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS.

good manners with little or no teaching. On the
contrary, ill manners ari~e from prid~, ill nature?
and a want of sense; an<l one who has these d efects
in his character, will generally be rude and illmannered.

greater than most young persons are apt to conccire.
They imagine that if they hare the more substantia1
qualities of good sense, le arning, and integri ty, good
manners are of no great consequcncc, au<l may be
easily dispensed with. But they should be told , that
they ought to Le very sm e they hav e these good
qualities before they <lespise good mauners; and
that, even if they hare th em, thcy " ·ill lose mucl1
of their value when connccte<l with rmlcncss and
ill-breeding: besides, their good sense, learning,
and integrity, can only be known, an<l useful to a
fow perso ns, while their manners affect crery one
they converse with, and ren der them either agreeable or disarrreeable to the whole world. So true
"
is that excellent observation of Pope,

(3) The ill qualities above-mentioned naturally
tend to make people uneasy: pride assumes all the
conversation to itself, and makes the company insignificant. Ill nature makes offensive reflections
'
'rhich gire pain to the hearers; and folly speaks
whatever comes uppermost, without making any
distinction of place, person, or occasion. But the
qu alities opposite to these as naturally tend to make
people easy; humility seeks to lower itself, a nd give
others the preference; S'ood nature takes all occasions of lessening the faults of others, and avoi<liug
whatever will give pain to a ny one preEent; and
good sense will shew us the proper time and occasion for making any remar~s which may Le either
instructive or entertaining. I
·
( 4) The importance of good manners is much

(3) The former qualities tend to make people easy, and
the latter to make them uneasy.
.
(.JJ Good sense and integrity, if we are sure we pos$ess
them, will not make good manners unn ecessary · the
former being but seldom called out to action, but the 'latter·
continually.

·without good breeding truth is disapprov«l;
That only makes superior se nse belov·d.

XII.-ON THE HIPORTAKCE OF A GOOD
CHARACTER.

(1) To those who are to make their own ,,·ay,
either to wealth or honours, a good charactcr is

(!) Every man is deeply intereste\l in the character of
those he associates with.

158

I

EASY ESSAYS.

usually no less necessary than addrefs and abilities.
Though human nature is d egenerate, yet it usually
retains to the last an esteem for excellence. For
even if we are arrived at such an extreme degree
of depravity as to have lost our native reverence
for virtue, yet a regard to our own interest and
safety, which we seldom lose, will lead us to apply
for aid, in all important transactions, to n_ien whose
integrity is unimpeached.
(2) When we have occasion for an attorn ey or a
counsellor, a physician or an apothecary, wlutcrcr
\Ye may be ourselves, we always choose to trust our
health and property to men of the best character.
' Vhen we fix on the tradesmen who are to supply
us with necessaries, we are not determined by their
names elegantly engraved on a card, nor by a shop
fitted up in the newest taste, but by the fairest
reputation. Look into a daily newspaper, and you
will see, from the highe~t to the lowest rank, how
important are the characters of those who are
employed to those who employ them. After the
advertisement has enumerated the qualities required
of the person wanted, there constantly follows, that

(2) When we wish to employ a physician, a lawyer,
a tradesman, or a servant, the first thing we regard i~ his
character.

EASY le SSA YS.

none need apply who cannot bring an undeniable
character.
(3) Youn g people, therefor e, whose characters
arc unfixed, · a nd who, consequent ly, may rcm],•r
them just such as they \rish, ought to pay tlw
crreatest attention to the first stc1J which thn• take
b
on entrance into li fe . They are usually too carclt'ss
and in attentive to this object. They t hink they see
their own in terest better than others, and fl atter
themselv es that t h eir youth will be a n excuse for a
tlwu s;;liLl iH1p·upric Lic;;. Dy sumc th ollghtk' " ~, r'ti n : 1
or exp ression, tliey suffer a m ark to be impresseJ
upon them, which scarcely any subsec1ucnt meri t can
entirely erase. Every one will find some persons
who, though they are not professed ene mies, yet
view hirµ with an envious or a jealous eye, and will
gladly revive a ny tale to which truth has given the
slightest foundation.
The malernlence of mankind affords but too much
reason for the beautiful but melancholy observation
of Dryden:
On eagles' win gs immortal scandals Hy,
"While virtuous actions are but born and die.

(3) Y oung people ought to be doubly careful of their cha·
racter, as a false step in youth may sully their \Yliulc life.

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EASY ESSAYS.

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XIII.-ON THE FOLLY OF INDULGE\'G THE
PASSION OF ANGEH.

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( l) As the command of our passions is the noblest
exercise of our reason, it were to be wished that
those who pretend to be reasonable creatures did not
sufli.>r the pas~ion of anger so often to make them act
like brutes. ?'he1:e never was a more absurd apology
than that wluch 1s commonly ma<le for passionate
people, that they are the best-natured creatures in
the world. It is true, when their anger is over, they
are often heartily sorry for what they ham done.
but this is only defe nding them, by proving they ar~
not quite demons, and that, though they are Yery
absmd an<l injurious for a time, they are not ahrays
so: but this ,yjll Le found to be but a poor excuse,
when we consider that a nioment's anger will often
produce more mischief thh whole years of good
nature may be able to atone for.
(2) When once people have habituated themselves to the indulgence of this passion, it is not
(I) The ~bsurd excuse. for angry people, a proof of the
folly and cnmc of anger.
. <.2) Anger.• when indulged, often makes people do the mo;t
ridiculous thrngs.

: EASY ESSAYS.

161

only their fellow-creatures that they injure by thrir
violence : these furious folks will sometimes vent
their rage on things inanimate; they " ·ill throw
chairs or tables about the room, spoil pictures or
break china, "·hen it does not happen that a dog, <l
cat, or any other domestic animal, is at hand. In
short, this sort of p eople are no more than O\'C'l'grown testy children; a11d excite our pity as well
as om sorrow, to see them act so much like ill-bred
humoursome infants.
(3) The only apology these angry people make
for themselves is, that they cannot help this sudden
"·armth, Lecause it proceeds from co nstituti on: but
nothing can be more false than that anger is not to
be suppressed ; for it is observable, th at they can
and do restrain their passion when a\\·eJ by respect, checked by interest, or intimidated by fear.
D oes a person ever give himself these Yiolent airs
in the presence of any one from whom he has great
expectations of advantage? or do we ever see a
person shew his anger Lefore one of a very superior
rank in life? No; it is generally a poor servant, or
a meek-spirited dependent, that is the object of
these fiery wretches' displeasure.

(3) Passionate people can restrain their anger before their
superiors, therefort: they can always do it.

162

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EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS.

(4) In short, of so much importance is it to youth
in particular to suppress this passion, that those who
know mankind will judge of every young person's
good nature, not by his behaviour to his superiors
or equais, but to ·his inferiors, his dependents, and
servants.

(2) In order to this, we ought to learn to acco'.11modate ourselves to that portion of h appiness wl11ch
H eaven has set before us. If we would fully enjoy
th e relish of our being, we must rather consider the
miseries we escape than too nicely examine the
intrinsic worth of the happiness we possess. vVe
should bring torrether every circum stance ancl c1-ery
0
. 1
l
advantage we enjoy, and compare_ them 11·1t11 t 1c

-+-.
XIV.-ON RESIGNATION UNDER AFFLICTION.

(1)

is the common lot of human
nature: no state of life, from first to last, is entirely
exempt from it. The young, the old, and the middleaged ; the rich, the poor, and those who are neither
in want nor abundance; the king, the peasan t, and
the trader, are alike subj ect to affliction. To alle\'iate affliction, therefore, seems an employment
as rational as it is useful; for, as Mr. Addison
observes, "Inquiries after IV.lppiness, and rules for
"attaining it, are not so necessary and useful to
"mankind as the arts of consolation and supportl.ng
" ourselves under affliction.';
AFFLICTION

(4) The test of every man's good temper is his behaviour
to his equals and inferiors.
(1) Affliction common to every age, state, and degree of
mankind.

miseries below us.
(3) But the principal reason why we ough_t not
to O'ive wav to affliction arises from the con~1dero
J
•
at.ion, that, as nothing happens without the penrnssion of the Almighty, our fretting and grieri ng at
the ineritable evils of li fe is no better than secretly
arraigning the dis11ensations of Proridence.
Alas! we little know what calamities we can bear
till we try them : let us look back ou what we ham
already endured, and be satisfied that th: sa~e
Almighty power, which before was our aid, will
likewise be our present support. L et us look on
calamity as a providential shock, which a\rakens us
1o rruard our~elves from some impending evil.
0
(2) To alleviate affliction, we ought to ref1ect how much
more miserable we might be.
(3) The chief source of consolation ought to be, that all
our afflictions are known and appointed by God.

164

EASY ESSAYS .

( 4) If our con science tells us it is a punishment
for some offence to God or our neighbour, let us
bear it with resignation, and reform our conduct;
if our conscience does not accuse us, we may be assured affiiction is sent to us as a blessing, if we do
but make a right use of it. For, as Shakspe are
finely observes,

(2) In order to obtain this inestimable blessing,
,diich the excellent Mr. Addison calls the h ealth of
the soul, the first thing to be d iscovered is, what is
that which excludes it; for as it is imposs ible tlwt
two cont:-aries should inhabit the breast at once,
we ou ght resolutely to drire out the aggressor. A
small dcaree of refl ection will soon discover that the
" to tranquillity is pritk. If we except
chief enemv
poverty, bo;li ly pain, and remorse, it will be easil y
seeu, tha t. every obstacle to serenity which can possiuly be imagined spri n g~ from this u nchrist ian
nee. A cmious ouservc'r will soon perceire that
from this root proccc<ls e1;1·y, hatred, malice, tyrann y, anger, revenge, in grat itude, profusion, and
arnrice: we may likewise trace the smaller vices
of young minds, such as impertinence, loquacity,
affectation, and obstinacy, to the same cause.
(3) But if this vice were less odious to God and to
our fellow- creatures than it really is, the miseries it
is sure to 1.Jring upon us might be a sufficient reason
for g uarding ourselves again st it. YVho can describe
the secret pangs of heart which this vice produces?

Sweet are the uses of adversity ;
"Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous,
\ Vears yet a precious jewel in his head.

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XV.-ON THE EVILS OF PRIDE.

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and cheerfulness, we arc
tolcl by every moral writer (where guilt is out of the
question), is in the power of every one. A heathen
could tell us, that this most desirable treasure lies
even at our feet; bu t t~at we either spurn it from
us, or giddily stumble over it, while we eagerly try
to grasp at b ubbles beyond our reach.
TrnNQU I LLITY

(

. ( 4) Atriictions nre eithe r punishments or trials. If the first,
\~e ought to repe nt ; if the last, to bear them wi th resignation.
. ~ I) T ranq uilli t! and cheerfulness, where there is no guilt,
is m th e power ol every one.

(2) If we are u nhappy, and inquire what .it is that makes
us so, we shall generally find it is pride .
(3) Men, for their own sakes, ought to avoid this vice,
which naturally produces so many misrries.

166

EASY ESSAYS.

\Vho can enumerate the disorders, plagues, a nd
calamities, which, in every nation upon the earth,
spring from this root? It were well if every thinking
person would strictly examine hi s catalogue of
vices, and ask his heart what resemblance they bear
to the great and universal cause here assicrned
them
0
. .
He would then easily discover, that, if he did but
strenuously endeavour to banish pride, he would
soon be free from most of those vices which are
the torment. of our own breasts and the plague of
those about us.

abundance of rules are laiLl down
for acquiring that style of behaviour, and those
modes of address, whic~ are usually called polite
and well bred; yet there is one plain rule worth all
the rest, which is, that a person who pretends to
the character and behaviour of a gentleman should
do every thing with gentleness, in an ~asy, quiet,

friendly manner, which doubles the value of every
word and action. A forw ard, noisy, importunate,
overbearing way of talking, is the surest sign of illbreeding; and hasty contradiction, unseasonable interruption of persons in their discourse, esi)ecially
of elders or superiors; loud laughter, win kin gs,
grimaces, and affected contortions of th e body, are
not only of low extraction in themselves, but arc the
natural symptoms of self-s111ficicncy and impertinence.
(2) The word polite, "hich signifies smooth or
polished, is another proof of what we gcnrrally
understand by good manners: a roughness and
unevenness of behaviour is diametrically opposite
1o politeness, as a smooth, easy, aml even address is
acrrecable
to the ori "crinal meanin!! of the word, when
0
we say such a one is a polite or polished man.
(3) Good breeding, too, which is another \YOrd
for good manners, is an admirable lesson to us on
the necessity of cultivating politeness in our earliE>st
youth ; for when we call impropri ety of beh aviour
ill-breedi~cr,
we seem to attribute it to the \Yant of
0
early instruction, which plainly intimates the neces-

(l) The first requisite iri the behaviour of a gentleman is,
to act with gentleness; as a forward, boisterous behaviour
is diametril'ally opposi te to that character•. ·

(2) Politeness, which signifies a state of being smooth or
polished. plainly indicates those manners we call polite.
(3) Good breeding intimates the necessity of early instruction.

-+.,

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XVI.-ON POLITENESS AND GOO D BREEDING.

•J

( 1)

THOUGH

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sity of being tramed early to good manners, if
erer we hope to be esteemed well-bred.
(4) Thus we see that, by stndyin g the original
meaning of the names by whi ch thin gs are called,
we shall generally arrive at a true knowledge of the
things they signify; which may serve to shew us
the impo rtance of a rational knowledge of language,
as by this knowledge we gain clear and precise
ideas of those things which it is of the greatest
consequence to us to be acquainted with.

the dark and dismal scenes of life, we insensibly
contract a narrowness and m~lancholy; and as
temporal happiness depends in a great measure on
th e most trivial circumstances, there is nothing
more worthy our attention than the art of making
1hese circumstances contribute to our comfort and
gratification.
(2) A celebrated writer has obsen·ed, that there
are few accidents in life so happy that the imprudent will not, by their misconduct, render of
less advantage to them, and that there arc seldom
any events so unfortunate from which the prudent
11·ill not derive some benefit. Like the bee, therefore, we should endeavour to extract honey from
the meanest weed, and not, like the spider, suck poison from the sweetest and most wholesome flower.
(3) A person who, either from nature or habit,
has a disposition to be pleased, diffuses a kind of
sunshine of happiness on all around him. Numberless pleasing topics occur to him, which are
commonly overlooked by the rest of the world;
s uch as the return of spring, the verdure of that

XVII.-ON THE ADVANTAG ES OF CULTIVATING A
DISPOSITION TO BE PLEASED.

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lookinrr0 on the bri "rrht side of
Cl) BY constant.Iv
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every thing, we shall insensibly gain a habit of good
nature and complacency, ar\d not only improve our
own happiness, but the happiness of all about us;
while, on the contrary, by constantly brooding over

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( 4) The utility of a knowledge of the original signification
'Of words, in order to comprehend their true meaning.
(I) As viewing thin gs on the bright side begets cheerfulness, and on the dark side melancholy, our happiness
depends much on the view we take of things ..

(2) The same accidents in life are very different to ·the
prudent and the imprudent.
(3) A disposition to be pleased is delighted with those
common beauties of nature which are overlooked by others.
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·-+---XVIII.-A COMPARISON BETWEEN HISTORY AND
BIOGRAPHY.

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the 1many \arguments advanced to
recommend the study of history, it has ·been said
( 1)

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that it teaches wisdom without the danger of experience; and, by pointing out the paths of those
wlio have gone before us, facnitates the journey
of' lifo. Thus history has been called philosophy
teaching by examples; and the same character
may be drawn of biography, though upon a smaller
scale; but, after all, it must be allowed that history is better calculated for rerrulatinrr
11olitical
0
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than moral conduct. The descriptions of battles,
the accounts of debates, the characters of kinrrs
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and heroes, contain very little that can direct the
actions of the private and the more numerous
ranks in the community. But an exact and authentic account of individuals who ha1'e greatly
excelled in any of the departments of active or contemplative life seems to be a mode of instruction
best suited to an animal like man, prone to imitation, and fond of selecting particular characters and
making them his models.

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sweet season, with the blossom of opening flowers,
a bright sky, a moonlight night, with a hundred
other nameless delights, which are daily present
to a mind not corrupted with what Mr. Addison
calls fantastical pleasures.
(4) In short, as a mind, undisciplined by religion, and ungrateful to Providence, can scarcely
view any object with pleasure; so a mind naturally disposed to be happy, and inclined to make
others so, not only increases the enjoyment of every
agreeable incident. in life, but, in some measure,
makes even those that are disagreeable administer
to its satisfaction and advantage.

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(4) As a discontented mind can scarcely view any object
with pleasure, so a cheerful mind not only draws lrnppin~ss
from agreeable objects, but turns even those that are disagreeable to some kind of advantage.
,
(l) Both history and biography teach philosophy by example; but the example exhibited by biography is the most
interesting.

171

(2) When a single character is distinctly delineated, we can pursue the outline with an ease
equal to that which the painter copies from the
or iginal picture placed before his eyes. ·we have
the express authority of the pattern we have
('.!) The single character of biography eno-an-es more of
our at_tcntiou than it would do if mixed with ~tl~ers equally
conspicuous.
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EASY ESSAYS.

chosen to direct us in every emergency, and can
tread with implicit confidence in the footsteps of
the most distinguished men without the suspense
of deliberate selection. It is a remark of Aristotle, that the story of an individual, as it is a
single object, is comprehended more fully, and
therefore attended to with greater pleasure, than
a history in which many personages are introduced.
(3) To these observations m favour of biography it may be added, that our sympathy, when
attached. to a single person, becomes stronger
than when scattered among a thousand individuals, which in history necessarily succeed each ·
other, and claim a share of our attention. The
interest, therefore, which we take in the fortunes
of one character is much greater than when it is
divided among several; and our virtuous affections are more exercise,d and strengthened by contemplating the life of Jne personage than of many
mingled together.
( 4) In the sarrie manner it is by exercising our

benevolence on the individuals which we see
and know, that the benevolent affections are
strengthened and increased, and not by commiserating the miseries of multitudes which we
have not the least knowledge of. Universal benevolence is a pretty philosophical notion, but it is
particular benevolence only that will prove ourmoral character: as experience but too often
shews us, that those who breathe the kindest•
spirit of philanthropy to nations at large, are not .
always the most benevolent and kind to their ow11 .
families, friends, and acquaintance.

172

(3) We form a friendship for a single character in biography, and our benevolent affections are the stronger for being
fixed upon one.
(4) Universal benevolence sounds prettily; but it is particular benevolence only that proves our moral character.

-+XIX.-ON NOVELS.

(1) NovELs are, in general, the most insig- ·
nificant and trifling of all literary performances:
they are seldom any thing more than the cold
productions of people who write for bread, with
as much indifference as milliners make up caps,
( l) Most novels are either the flimsy productions of those
who write for bread, or the offspring of vanity in the idle
and illiterate, or poor imitations of some few that are really
good.

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EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS.

without any materials worth communicating.
Others are the offspring of idle young people,
who are infected with the itch of writing from
the contagion of reading them; and who put together a string of incidents not one degree above
the tea-table, and of no more real concern than if
they were to entertain u~, as some tiresome people
do, with an account of their dreams: and perhaps
the greater part of th em are but mean imitations,
which affect the style and manner of more successful compositions that have gone before them.
(2) It were well if thi: rea<ling of novels were
nothing more than the loss of time; but young
people will not escape so: it has generally a bad
effect upon the mind, anc{ in some instances, a
fatal one upon the morals and fortune. In novels,
plays, and romances (for they have all the same
general object, which is the amusement of idleness
and folly), we are pr~sente<l
with false views
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of life, and· deceitful pictur'es of the virtues and
vices of mankind; The end is to please : and how
is this end to be obtained? Nothing will please
youthful vanity so much as the escaping from
dangers incurred by our own imprud ence, and

arri\·ing at unexpected good fortune without our
<lescrving it. Nothing will gratify the idle and
romantic mind but such extraordinary adventures
as never happen in real life; nor will any thing
be so pleasing to the vicious part of mankind as a
palliation of the fashionable vices, and sneering
at the sober and respectabl e virtues. Novelists,
t11erefore, and comic writers, who study popularity
either for praise or profit, generally mix 11p Yice
"·ith amiable qualities to cover and recommend it,
\rhile virtue is co111pouncle<l with such ingredients
as have a natural tendency to make it unpleasant
and disgusting.
(3) But novels <lo not only corru pt the manners, but vitiate the taste of thei r readers; they
fly above nature an<l reality; their characters are
all overcharged, and their incidents overflow with
improbabilities and absurdities. The im agination,
thus fed with wind and flatulence, loses its relish
for truth, and can bear nothing that is plain,
simple, common, and natural: so that the reading
of novels is to the mind what the drinking of
strong liquors is to the body ; the palate is vitiated, the stomach is weakened, the digestion is

.. (2) Novel~ give us false views of life; they palliate the
vices and folli es of mankind, and discredit the sober virtues.

(3) Novels vitiate the taste, as strong liquors vitiate the
stomach and hurt the constitution.

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spoiled, and life can be kept up only by that
which is supernatural and violent. Nothing, therefore, can be more dangerous to the understanding, to the morals, and the taste, than an attachment to the reading of the generality of these
fictitious productions. They glide into the heart
through the imagination, and, under the taste of
honey, often infuse the strongest poison.

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-+XX.-ON CONTEMPLATION.

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( l) CONTEMPLATION is one of the noblest
employments of a rational creatm:e. Directing
and fixing the intellectual eye upon suitable objects, attended with proper reflections, is productive of the greatest advantages, as well as the
most refined delights.
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(2) By accustoming our plin<ls to this employment, there is not an object in nature but must

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(I) Rational contemplation both profitaqle ancl delightful.
(2) Contem plating the heavenly bodies raises our niinds to
adore the power and glory of the Deity; viewing the earth,
with its various animals, excites us to admire his wisdom and
bene\•olence; and the profusion of beautiful and salutary
,·egetables shews his superabundant goodness and condescensiou.

177

EASY ESSAYS.

forcibly excite our admiration and gratitude to
our heavenly Maker. Who can survey the starry
heaven, as Milton expresses it, glowing with
living sapphires, the sun flaming in the forehead
of the morning sky, or the moon rising in clouded
majesty, and not cry out with the holy Psalmist,
" The heavens declare the glory of God, and the fir" mament sheweth his handywork !" When we look
round us, and survey the earth on which we live,
the various animals with which it is peopled, ancl
the profusion of vegetables with which it is clothed
and adorned, we are lost in astonishment, and are
ready to exclaim in rapture, Great God! how
sublime, how beautiful, how rnried are thy works!
Not the .smallest blade of grass that trembles in
1he wind but loudly proclaims its great Creator;
the radiated daisy, the lovely ,·iolet, the blooming
rose, the stately elm, and the majestic oak, all,
all declare with an united voice,-The hand that
made us is divine.
(3) But if the beauties of Nature are thus capable of affording us such instruction and entertainment, what shall · we think of those fashionable

(3) It is absurd to lose the beauties of Nature by always
living in populous cities.
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EASY ESSAYS.

people who fly from thPse delightful scenes to the
noisome air of a populous city, and stifle all reflection in the hurry and bu stle of a court; who
exchange the rural beauties of the fields and meadows, fo~ the artificial glare of balls and assemblies? If 'these rivals to the beauties of Nature
have the- least pretence to engage our affections,
it can only be when the face of Nature is deformed
by the rigours of winter, and her beauties hid by
chilling frosts and stormy skies ; but even at these
times the contemplative mind finds charms which
attract its admiration. So true is Shakspeare's
observation of such persons, who
Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
· Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

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XXI.-ON GENEROSITY.

I

(1) GENEROSITY is such an attachment to the
interest of others as leads us to sacrifice our own.
The moment a person foregoes his right in favour
.of another, and grants him more than he can
demand, that moment he becomes generous,.

(1) Generosity is doing something more than we are
obliged.to do.

EASY ESSAYS.

179

(2) The laws of nature . and society ha,•e prescribed certain duties to every one who lives in the
world: these laws require us to act justly and
honestly to our fellow-creatures. It is in obedience to these laws that justice and honesty consist: but, however we may dcserrn praise when
we fulfil these laws of society, this praise is only
bestowed on us when we are compared with those
who are dishonest or unjust, which is a mere
negative praise ; if we would gain the applause of
the world for generosity, we must do more than
is expected from us; we must., when we weigh
our own interest, and that of others, girn the turn
of the scale against ourselves.
(3) Hence we may obserre how truly generous
1s that perfect system of morals taught by our
blessed Saviour, and how exactly conformable to
the justest sentiments of human wisdom: " If ye
" love them only who love you," says our Lord,
" what reward have ye? But I say unto you,
" love your enemies, bless them that curse you,
" do good to them that hate you, and pray for

(2) We must <lo justice to escape the censure of the laws;
but, to be generous, we must <lo something more than the
laws require.
(3) Christian morality is true generosity.

180

EASY ESSAYS.

" them who despitefully use you and persecute
" you." This is real christian generosity; and it
may be added, it is this only which the world
looks upon to be truly generous.
(4) It is true, that generosity is sometimes ill
requited ; but the truly generous man looks to no
return ·for his generosity, and therefore he is not
disappointed if he bestows his favours upon an
unworthy object. But, however degenerate mankind may be, perhaps it may be asserted with confidence, that generosity is seldom without a grateful return. Men do not often . care to be outdone .
in generosity ; and one generous action often produces another. We meet with frequent instances
in history, of the good effects of a generous conduct towards an enemy; among these may be
reckonNl the treatment of the schoolmaster by
Camillus, and the discovery of the treason of
Pyrrhus's physician by Fab1)cius.
Upon the whole, therefo~e, we may conclude,
that though generosity is sometimes ill requited,
it is always respected and . admired; and· is . sure
to be accompanied with a self satisfaction, which,
111 some measure, makes amends for the want of a
suitable return.
( 4) Generosity produces generosity.

EASY ESSAYS.

181

XXIl.-ON THE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
POLITENESS AND RELIGION.

( l) IT is a general opinion, that politeness and
good manners have nothin g to <lo 11ith morals;
tl'.at civility is a lighter sort of quali fi catio11, lying
w1t~out the system of morality a11d christia11 duty,
w 111ch a man may possess or not pos~css~ a nd yet
be a Yery good man.
(2) But if we attcncl to the best defini tion of
good manners that erer has been given, 1re shall
find ciYility of behaviour 1·cry nea rly allied to
religi on : the definition I mean is, that which tells
us that good manners is artificial benevolc11ce.
Now nothing can be more certain than that
b enernlence is one of the most essential duties of
a Christian. If then good manners be a compliance with those external forms of behaviour which
naturally express benernlence, it is, at the same
time, an external compliance with one of the most
essential duties of a Christian.

(I) It is commonly supposed that politeness and religion
have no relation to each other.
(2) If we attend to the definition of each we shall find
them nearly allied.

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(3) The apostle Paul has plainly comprehended
what we call good manners in his well known
description of charity, which signifies the benevolence or friendship of Christians; and is so similar
to it, that no man can practise charity, in the.
christian sense of it, and be guilty of ill manners.
Shew me the man, who, in his conversation, discovers no signs of being puffed up with pride,
who neither envies nor censures, who is kind and
patient towards his . friends, and forgiving to his
enemies ; who does not seek his own, but considers others rather than himself, and gives them
the preference: shew me such a man, I say, and
he will not only be a good Christian, but, in the
best sense of the word, he will be a real gentleman; he will be, in reality, what all artificial
courtesy affects to be, a philanthropist, a friend to
mankind.
(4) Christianity, therefore, is the best foundation of what we call good manners ; and if, as is
too often the case, we see persons practise great
good manners without any real benevolence, we

(3) The rules of politeness express that benevolence artificially which the rules of religion require of us in reality.
( 4) Polite persons, dernicl of sincerity, are hypocrites in
benevolence.

EASY ESSAYS.

181

must rank them among hypocrites, who affect to
be what they are not .
(5) But as it would be very improper to disregard reli gious ceremonies, becau se they are som etim es made use of by hypocrities to bad purposes ;
so it would be as improper to unrlervalue the
external expressions of cirility and lwnernl cncc,
because some are void of that benernl ence they
arc calculated to cxpr<:>ss. In ~ hort, the fo 11mlation
of' all politeness, as wdl as of all piety, is humilit y : an humble opinion of our~el ves must ;1ppear in all our actions, if we wish to be pleasing,
either to G oel or our follow- c reature~.

XXIII.-ON THE ART OF PLEASING IN
CONVERSATION.

(1) As rational and elegant conversation is
one of the highest and noblest entertainments of
the human species, the desire of pl easing in conversation is, therefore, a very laudabl e passion.

(5) As hypocrites in religion ought not to lessen our regard for its ceremonies, so hypocrites in benevolence ought
not to lessen our esteem for politeness.
(1) A desire to please in conversation is laudable.

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(2) A too great desire to excel in so flattering
an accomplishment has often a tendency to make
us less agreeable than if we were quite careless
about it. The desire of pleasing makes a man
agreeable or unwelcome to those with whom he
converses, according .to the motive from which
that inclination appears to flow. If your concern
for pleasing others arises from innate benevolence,
it never fails of success ; if from a vanity tp excel,
its disappointment is no less certain. In this
therefore, as well as in every other desirable accomplishment, we must be guided by the rules of
good sense and prudence. These qualities will
direct us, when we are in the company of those
above us, to be humble without meanness; and,
when we are with inferiors, to condescend without
the appearance of pride. They will teach us, that
the art of pleasing others rather consists in making
them pleased with themselv~s than endeavouring
to make them pleased with us
(3) Good sense will shew us that we ought to
seek out the favourite subject of our companions,
(2) If we desire to please others for their sakes, we shall
generally succeed: if for our own sake, we shall generally
fail.
(3) Good sense must shew us how we are to adapt our
conversation to our company.

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J::ASY ESSAYS.

185

both as they are most likely to shine in that, atlll as
tht'Y arc usually best pleased with what they excel
in ; and prudence will dictate to us nerer to endearnur to show ourselves so superior to others as to
make them ashamed of their inferiority.
( 4) But, above all, we should be studious to obtain a justness of thinking and a propri ety of expression: for, though this is not the " ·hole of the
art of pleasing, it is the basis of it. Good hum our
and condescension will, in time, be insipid without
good sense; and though these qualities arc powerful auxiliaries to good sense, and will often supply
the want of it, yet if we wish to give solid and lasting pleasure in conversation, we mu st, as in all
other composition, mix the useful with the agreeable,
and shew that our conversation does not arise so
much from a desire to please ourselves as a desire
to be agreeable to others. This disposition is absolutely necessary to make our superiority agreeable, without being humiliating to our companions:
for, as Pope very justly observes,
Without good breeding, truth is disapprov'd,
That only makes superior sense belov'cl.

( 4) Justness of thinking, and propriety of expression, the
basis of the art of pleasing in conversation.

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EASY ESSAYS.

XXIV.-ON SYMPATHY AND BENEVOLENCE.

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(1) AMONG all the moral virtues which at once
adorn and delight the .heart, those must surely be
esteemed the first which awaken with our very existence, pass with us through life, and are designed to
form a very material part of our fecility in a future
state.
(2) What is it that guards our infancy, which is
more helpless than that of the lowest order of created beings, satisfies its wants, gratifies its wishes,
instructs its ignorance, and fosters its . dawning
reason? What is it that in childhood delights
and amuses the fleeting hours, calls forth the little
exertions of kind offices one towards another, and
awakens the first symptoms of the soul of sympathy?
· (3) What is it that in riper years form s all the
blessings of friendship, that aids our endeavours,
consoles our distresses, b~ars with our infirmities,
(!) Sympathy and benevolence constitute those finer
feelings of the soul which at once support and adorn human
nature.
(2) What is it that guards our helpless infancy, and instructs our childboocl, but sympathy?
(3) What is it that performs all the kind offices of friend•
ship in riper years but sympathy ?

EASY ESSAYS.

187

nor ceases till its last melancholy office has deposited us in the dust ?-Ceases, did I say? I would
not do it such wrong.
(4) No; with religious solicitude it then blesses
our memory, and shi elds our good name from the
attacks of envy and slander; and, by continuing its
kindness to our offspring or co nnexions, becomes a.
perpetual blessin g to us. What can afford th ese
advantages, or rat her necessaries, in a lifo of' socicf y,
but that sy mpathy and benernlencc which, bei ng
implanted in us by Providence, and forming a part
of our nn.ture, arc among those faculties we arc
bound to cultivate and improve?
(5) How must that principle th en debase and
impoverish the mind which contracts its feelings
within the narrow circle of its own concerns, and
tends to stifle those generous sentiments which are
so congenial to the soul? Can one with patience
behold a man living only for himself, pleased only at
his own prosperity, vulnerable only by his own calamity, industrious only to procure his own comfort,
or to avoid his own misfortune ? Can one behold

(4) What is it that consoles us in our last moments, and
defends our character when dead, but sympathy?
(5) A person without sympathy, and living only for himself,
is the basest and most odious of all characters.

188

EASY .ESSAYS.

such a character sickening at another's good, and
not be filled with indignation? Devoted, as the
world too much is to self-love, and estranged as. it
too much is from benevolence, no character of thi&
kind ever passed through life with respect, or sunk
into the grave with pity.

(2) If we look round the world, we shall find we
arc classed together more by our education than our
birth or property. It is impossible that persons of
rrood education and no education should be very
"'agreeable companions: so that if fortune falls unex pectedly to an uneducated person, it is impossible
he can enjoy it properly, because he cannot associate with those who have been. well educated ;
while a perso n of moderate circumstances, and a
good ed ucation, is an acceptabl e companion to those
who arc infinitely bryoml him in fortune.
(3) Fortune may be lrft to us Ly our fri emls or
relations ; but e(lu cation must be acquired by ourselves, or we must want it for c\·er. Fortune may
he acquired at an advanced time of life ; but if education is neglected in youth, the loss is almost
always irretrievable. Thus when Dionysius, the
tyrant of Syracuse, wanted Archimedes to instruct
him in geometry by an easier method than common,
the Professor answered him, "May it please. your
" maj esty, I know of no royal method of teaching

XXV.-ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A GOOD
EDUCATION.

(I) EouCATION, in its most limited sense, generally means that instruction we receive in youth
by the study of grammar, rhetoric, and whatever
relates to languages or composition; but in its more
enlarged sense, it means that knowledge and those
habits which we acquire by an early acquaintance
with good authors, and a familiar intercourse with
the polite and educated wprld. Education, therefore, taken in its whole e~tent, as it informs the
mind and polishes the manners, may be considered
as the most important object to every individual
who would wish to be distinguished from the lowest
orders of society.

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EASY ESSAYS.

(I) Education does not only consist in literary knowledge,
but means the acquiring of such habits as form the character.

" geometry."

(2) Men classed more by education than by birth ancl
fortune.
(3) Fortune may come to us by others; education must
be acquired by ourselves.

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(4) The ancients are full of encomiums on a good
education, and nothing appeared to be a greater object of their attention. Philip, king of.Macedon, the
greatest and wisest prince of his time, chose Aristotle, who for his great knowledge has been styled
the prince of philosophers, to be tutor to his son ;
and the fame of his pupil, Alexander the Great, is
no small proof o( the influence this philosopher had
on his fortune. It was, indeed, a question among
the ancients, whether Alexander owed more to his
father or to his tutor; and this question was
generally decided in favour of the latter.
(5) In short, education may be styled the parent
of the mind, since it is to that men owe the superiority they have over their fellow-creatures more
than to any advantages of nature.
(6) These observations may teach us a very useful
lesson. How forcibly does this superiority, which
we derive from education, inculcate gratitude to

our parents, and humility to those who have not
enjoyed our advantages! How does it teach us, that
perhaps thousands who are employed in the lowest
and most degrading offices of life 1rnuld have been
our superiors, if they had received our education!
How beautifully has Gray illustrated this thought,
where he says, spea king of the poor,-

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EASY E:')SA YS.

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( 4) The ancients supposed Alexander more indebted to
bis tutor Aristotle than to his father Philip.
( 5) The superiority of one man to another owing more to
education than to nature.
(6) Education ought to inspire us with gratitude to our
parents, and humility to those who have not had the
advantage of it.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample pn ge,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll:
Chill penury repressed their noble rnge,
And froz e the genial current of the soul.
Full many tt gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unrathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flow'r is horn to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard.

XXVI.-OF THE EFFECTS OF LEARNING ON THE
COUNTENANCE.

( l) THE most attractive beauty of the person
results from the graces of the mincl. Innocence,

(I) A fine mind appearing in the countenance superior to
a fine set of features.

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EASY ESSAYS.

delicacy, sweetness, sense, and sensibility, appearing in the eyes, will more than compensate for an
irregularity of features, and will sooner excite affection in a feeling heart, than the best-formed face
and the finest complexion, without such expression
as indicates a beautiful mind and an amiable disposition.
(2) Nature must indeed have laid the foundation
of these amiable qualities in the heart; but they are
by no means so effectually called forth and improved as by the cultivation of a literary taste; for,
however degenerate the world may be, the best
books in every department of learning are still virtuous.-Human nature appears in them in its most
pleasing colours: they inspire noble, generous, and
benevolent sentiments. He who is conversant with
them will find his countenance improving as his
mind is informed, and his look ennobled and refined as his heart is ele~ated. This must be a
powerful motive with tho~e who wish to appear
lovely, as they may rest assured that the mind
receives no real embellishment without communicating a certain portion of it to the face.

(2) A taste for polite literature calculated to give a sweetness to the countenance.

EASY ESSAYS.

] '):3

(3) But the most essential rule for adding to' the
beauty of the countenance is .to be careful to improl'e and cultivate the heart. It has been often
remarked that the predominant passion of erery
indil'idual may be discovered in the face. However this may be, certain it is, that whatever passion takes possession of the mind for any com:iclerable time, \rith that passion the countenance will
be tinctured even after the occasion of it has subsided. Thus, the death of a dear friend will rriye
a gloom to the aspect, which only wears off"' by
slow degrees; and an~' joyful event will be seen in
the face for s~me time after it. has happened. It
cannot, therefore, be doubted that a di spositio·n
"·hich is always in the heart will shew itself in the
face, and that those who wish to have a lovely
countenance ought above all things to be careful to
11ave an amiable mind.

(3) The mind is in some degree always visible in the fare,
and therefore those who wish to haYe a fin e countenance
ought to cultivate those virtues which are the real ornament
of human characters.

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EASY ESSAYS.

1
XXVIl.-ON THE PASSIONS.

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PASSIONS are strong emotions of the mind, occasioned by the view of approaching good or evil.
(1) These emotions are planted in man by Providence, in order to give him activity, and fit him for
society. Without any thing to hope or fear, life
would not only be insipid, but a burden. With the
amiable and virtuous passions we are sometimes
more than human creatures~ and with violent and
ungovernable passions we are monsters and brutes.
Passions, theref9re, are the very stamina of our
natures, the foundation-stones on which our moral
character is built.
(2) A man indifferent to good or evil, pleasure
or pain, is a character which existed no where but
in the school of Zeno. '.J'he virtuous man of the
Stoics is exactly in the situation of a ship in a calm;
while the libertine of Epicurus is like a vessel in a
violent tempest, every moment in danger of being

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EASY ESSAYS.

sunk by the vehemence of his passions. The apathy of the Stoics is an extreme against which we
have no great occasion to guard. The directino- of
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our pass1011s to improper obj ects, or suffering them
in
to hurry us away with them, is the 0o-reat clancrer
0
human life. "What is history," says an ingenious
of the miseries bro11rrht
critic, "but a catalorrue
0
0
" upon mankind by an improper irnlulgence of the ir
" passions ?"
(3) But if t his be so, how .ought it to be the constant busines;:; of rational creatures to r eg11latc and
chastise these internal tyrants! how carefully ought
they to guard again st yielding to their first impulses !.
and how ought all our education · to be directed to
a proper governmen t of' our passions !
(4) Nothing will so effectually contribute to this
as a proper sense of reli gion. "Christianity," as
Hannah More a<l.mirably observes, "chancres
our
0
"anger against the persons we dislike into a hatred
" of their sins. 'The fear of man which 11·orketh
" a snare,' she transmutes into ' that fear of God
" whi ~h worketh salvation.' Thus, by some of
"the most rebellious passions of our nature beinoo

(!) The passions are implanted in us for the most useful
purposes, those of activity and benevolence.
(2) No necessity of guarding against an absence of the
passions, but against a predominance of them.

(3) Governing the passions the most important part of
education.
·
(4) Religion the best guard and guide of the passions.

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"converted, by the blessing of God on a religious
"education, to the side of virtue, a double purpose
" is effected; if they are no longer rebels, they be" come auxiliaries; and a foe subdued is an ally
" obtained : for it is the effect of religion on the
"passion's, that, when she seizes the enemy's gar" rison, she does not destroy the works; she does
«not burn the arsenal, and spike the cannon; but
"the artillery she seizes she turns to her own use,
" and plants its whole force against the enemy
"from whom she has taken it.
"Thus," says this admirable writer, "what our
" late improvements in natural science hare done
"in the medical world, by converting the most
"deadly ingredients into medicines of life and
" health, Christianity, with a sort of divine alchy" my, has effected in the moral world, by that
"transmutation which makes those passions which
"have been working for, sin become actire in •the
"cause of religion."
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EASY E SSAYS,

X.XVIII.-ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FASHION
AND BEAUTY.

(1) FASHION may be called the deity of the
polite world. Its influence is irresistible, a nd its
power seems capable of altering the nature of things.
By the magic power of this goddess, the most absurd and ridiculous things become d ecent and suit able, and the most graceful and proper :nc change· I ·
to the most uncouth and disgusting. Ilow nilgar
and unseemly does a small hat appear when it is.
the fashion to wear large ones! and how soon are
we reconciled to the greatest oddities of dres3 when
they arc once in vogue!
(2) But is the nature of things really altered by
fashion? Is there no difference between the mo&t
extravagant absurdity and the mo.st elegant pro.- ·
priety of dress but what is owing to the mode in_
use? A re all fashions equally becoming; and i&-

(I) Fashion reconciles us to the greates t oddities and
extravagances.
(2) If there be not a beauty in dress independent of fashion,
it is absmd to call one fashion prettier than another,

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EASY ESSAYS.

there no such thing as a pretty fashion or an ugly
fashion ? If not, it is absurd to make use of the
phrase: but the very use of it shews to a demonstration, that some things are pretty or ugly
independent of the fashion : how then shall we
reconcile these seeming contradictions?
(3) By considering the nature of custom: it is the
property of custom to reconcile us to the most disagreeable things; 'the habits and manners of the most
distant nations become familiar by living among
them, and we no longer perceive the oddity which
at first excited our laughter. No wonder, therefore,
that in our own country we should soon be reconciled to the oddities of fashion; and, when once this
is the case, we approve of it for another reason.
The young, the handsome, the witty, and the rich,
are generally in the fashion : while the old, the
homely, the morose, and the , poor, are out of it;
and t bus the fashion, by the' laws of association,
contracts a beauty · and propriety which does not
really belong to it, but to the persons who adopt it;
and we admire the fashion, not for its own sake,
but for the sake of those who follow it ; for when

once these people alter their dress, the beauty we
saw in the last fashion immediately disappears, and
instead of adorning the person, seems to disgrace it.
('1) For this reason painters frequently dress their
pictures in a habit not subject to the changes of
fashion, as the finest fi gure makes an ocld appearance in an antiquated dress ; but when the present
fasbion is out of the question, and we compare the
several old fashions, or the fashions of several
countries, then we can prononnce upon the beauty
or ugliness of the fashions; which shews \\"C think
there is a beauty and ugliness, a propri ety and
impropriety, entirely independent of fashion.

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(3) The power of custom is that which makes us always
think the present fashion pretty, and this power of custom is
strengthened by the power of association.

-+XXIX.-SOLITUDE.

(1) SOLITUDE and retirement are what most
people affect to admire, and what few can support.

(4) That the beauty of dress is dependent on fashion appears from the practice of painters and the dresses of foreign
nations.
(I) Solitude much admired by those who have never experienced it, and seldom approved by those who have, as
many have been obliged .to quit it and return to the world.

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EASY F.SSA YS.

When we are immersed in business, fatigued with
c-0mpany, or vexed with the cross accidents of life,
we sigh for -solitude, and are apt to cry out " How
"happy are those who are free from the fetters of
"society and the cares of the world ! who, in some
"rural retreat, · enjoy their own reflections, undis" turbed by the impertinent visits and restless impor" tunity of the votaries of business, pleasure, or dissi" pation !" Tl]ese wishes, however, a rise from the
mere pressure of the moment: experience furni shes
us with a thousand examples of men sick of business
or surfeited with pleasure, who, after eagerly running to solitude as the summit of hap piness, have
in a li ttle time found it the abyss of misery, and
have been forced to return back to the world they
so much decried, for a shelter from the horrors and
fatigues of retirement.
(2) The reason of this disappointment is obvious:
man is a creature of habit; habits and customs
form a part of his nature, and, without doincr vio"'
lence to his nature, he cannot fly from one extreme
to another; he cannot instantan eously quit all his
social companions and usual occupations, and fly

to solitude and retirement, without fe eling such a
void in his mind as must be almost insupportable;
for, as a man must either be employed or be miserable, a total want of employment is a state of
unhappiness.
(3) Employment may be considered of two kinds-,.
active and passive: active employment j3 that where
the mind or body is engaged in accomplishing some
performance which demand;; so much of attention
as to prevent the least lang uor or satiety. Pa ~sirc
employment is that where the mind is employed
only in receiving the various impressions made on
it by transient obj ec ts, without any exertion of its
own: as in the sight of a dramati c performance, or
the view of rnrious objects continually pass ing bi:fore:
the eye.
(4) The employment of the greatest part of the
polite world is of this kind : they are employed
without being active; and when they are in situations which deprive them of the obj ec ts of amusement, to which they have been so long accustomed,

(2) The reason why solitu<le is generally intolerable to
those who have been in busy life, is, that h11bits are not
easily change<l.
·

. (3) The mind must be employed either actiYely or passively, or be miserable.
. (4) The generality of the gay worl<l are used only to passJYe em ploy m ent, which solitude deprives th e m of.
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EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS .

they languish and pine for the want of them, becau se their minds are incapable of any active
exertions.

XXX.-ON GENIUS.

(5) In the same manner, those whose mind s have
been actilrely employed in the pursuit of any particular object, when that. object is gain ed, th ey find
the same want of employment as the idle and inactive, and become equally a burden to themsel ves.
(6) If, therefpre, we resolve upon solitude and retirement, we must also resolv e upon some pursuit,
either boclily or mental, which will employ our time,
or our seclusion from society will be intolerable :·
so true is the observation of a celebrated writer of
the present day, *-" Th at it is the active mind
" alone which can bear retirement and solitude."

(5) The busy world, when deprived of their active employment, generally find a vacancy th ey are unable to fi ll up.
. ~6). If we wish to enjoy solitude, we must find employment
m 1t either for the body or the mind.

· * Knox.

203

(1) GENlUS may be defin ed the power of inrcntion: it is that faculty of the soul which penetrates
into the deepest recesses of nature, and procluces
either new ideas or new comb inations of' itlcas,
which at once please and astoni sh mankind.
(2) It is a general opinion, that those who have a
genius given them by nature have at the same time
a natural propensity to employ their genius on some
particular subj ect. However difficult it may
to
conceive such a natural propensity 11"ithout recurring to the exploded doctrine of innate ideas, yet a
great number of very striking examples tend to
make this opinion probable. Clavius, mentioned in
the Spectator, who was incapable of every study
but the mathematics; and the celebrated actor,
Garrick,* who, though p assionately fon d of music
and drawing, tried in vain to learn them; are
remarkable instances of this innate propensity.

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(1) Genius is the power of invention.
(2) The common opinion, that people are born to excel in
some art, very probable.
* This I had from Mr. Garrick's own mouth.

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E ASY ESSAY S.

(3) But, whether " ·c are adapted by nature to
peculiar studies or not, certain it is that a passion for
any study is not always an infallible proof of a power
to excel in it. There is scarcely any propensity so
general in youth as drawing : this art seems the
first for which the youn g mind fe els a passion, and
this passion is often mistaken by parents for genius.
An inseparable companion of genius it certainly is,
as none ever excelled in any art without some degree of passion for it; but it is by no means the
test of genius, otherwise every one who desires to
become a good painter would infallibly be one.
(4) The truth is, man is an imitatirn animal ; imitation is natural to him: and, as visible obj ects are
those which strike youth most powerfully, they
naturally become the first objects of imitation ; but
merely to imitate beauties, however uncommon the
talent may be to excel in this imitation, has never
been looked upon as g~ niu s . A ge nius must, indeed, ever be capable 0 f imitatin g the beauties he
views, but his im agination will always incite him
to conceive something more excellent than any thing
he has yet seen, a nd this persuasion will urge him

to produce som ething new; while the mere imi tato r
conceives nothing beyond his original, and, therefore, though he produces a perfect similitude, is
entitled only to a small share of praise.
(5) H ence a common p ainter may draw an exact
likeness ; but only a good one can draw an agreeable
one : h e sees shades of character a nd glan ces of
a ~ p ec t half issuing to the vi ew, whi ch the mere imitator is totally unconscious of; and his imagin;itio11
gives these sh ades and aspects t heir happiest hue,
which, like transparency to colours, adds to their
brilliancy without altering thei r nature.
(6) Upon the whole therefore, we may conclu de,
that a passion for painting is a strong indi cation of
a taste for the art, Lut no certain proof of a genius
for it; as the former faculty is employed only on
what has been before produced, the l atter in produ cing something new and original.

1

(3) A passion for an art not always a sign of genius
for it.
(4) Imitation, however excellent, does not arise to genius.

(5) A painter of genius does not draw a servile, but a
happy likeness.
(6) A passion for an art an indication of a taste, but not
of a genius for it.

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XXXI.-ON A LOVE OF ORDER.

( 1) A LOVE of order is a lo ve of beauty, h armony, and propriety: it ia that taste which admires
the beauty and regularity of the motion of the h eavenly bodies, of the various productions of the animal and. vegetable worlds, and of those laws of the
moral world which make it every man's inte rest to
do unto others as he would they should do unto
him, and, by this means, to promote the order
and h appiness of society.
(2) A love of order is not confined to philosophical speculation, but shews itself in all the various
transactions of life. It appears in the regulation of
our expenses, in the distribution of our time, in the
choice of our companions, and in our very amusements themselves. A lover of order will not suffer
his expenses to be greate\ than his income, as that
would necessarily produc~ disorder in his fortune,

(I! A love of order is a love of beauty, propriety, and harmony, in the celestial and terrestrial, and the moral, worlds.
(2) A love of order appears in the regulation of our expenses, in the spending of our time, in the choice of our company, and in our very amusements.

EASY ESSAYS.

20 /

and bring him into poverty and contempt. H e \\'ill
not be generous before he is just, as he will plainly
p erceive the disorder of such conduct, an d that
such generosity is contrary to the nature of things,
which tells us that we have no right to give mrny
what is not our own .
A lover of order will perceive that, by a proper
distribution of his time, and a regu lar employment
of it, he will perform every thin g 'ri t h more case,
a nd avoid confusion and p erplexity in his a lfairs.
H e will not put off till to -rn~rrow wha t ought to be
done to-<lay, as that will be presum ing too much on
the future, an<l be loadin g the morrow with a burden which he does not know it " ·ill lJe able to !war;
and if it will not, disorder an d disappointnwnt must
be the consequence.
A lornr of order will be particularly careful to
keep company with such as are lovers of order like
himself; h e will see the impropriety of associatin g
with such as are either much below or much a bove
him, aI.J.d will be convinced how impossible it is for
persons of very different characters, sentiments, a nd
situations in life, to live long in harmony together.
He will, in the last place, observe order in his
amusements : he will perceive that there is a season
for every thing; and that diversion and relaxation
ought not to exclude attention to things of higher

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EASY ESSAYS.

moment, as this would be sure to produce disorde1•
of the worst kind.
(3) Nay, he will delight in order in thelmost
trifling concerns: he will love to see his books, his
papers, his clothes, and every thing that belongs
to him, in order; and this love of order, or taste
for what is right, will make him disgusted with
whatever-is disorderly, or out of its proper place:
and we may therefore conclude, that a love of order
will induce us to pursue whatever is just and decorous in life, and to avoid whatever is unjust,
irregular, and disorderly.

XXXII.-ON AFFECTATION.

(l) AFFECTATION is apparent hypocrisy. It
is the assuming of a character, qualifi.cation, 01·
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accomplishment, which'1 every one perceives is not
our own. It is acting a part so injudiciously, that
we impose on nobody but ourselves.

(3) A love of order will appear in the most trifling concerns,
as the state of our books, our papers, our clothes, and every
thing that belongs to us.
(1) Affectation is apparent hypocl'isy.

EASY ESSAYS.

(2) This disagreeable style of manners has its
origin in the love of fame, the universal passion, as
Dr. Young calls it; and this passion is at the
bottom nothing but the vanity of appearing something better than we really are.
(3) If this be a true account of affectation, it is
no wonder it is held in such unirersal r,ontcmpt.
As we naturally love truth, whatever endeavours to
impose upon us must be offensive: our pride is too
apt to be hurt at the praises we hear bestowed 011
the truly deserving; and this naturally makes us
jealous of others, l~st they should gain approbation
by false pretences; so that every one is the natural
enemy of him who is affected and artificial.
( 4) But nothing can show the odious nature of
this quality in a stronger light than a contrast with
the beauti&s of its opposite qualities, simplicity. As
affectation disgusts us by wearing a disguise, which
every one sees through; simplicity pleases us, by

(2) It has its origin in vanity.
(3) Affectation hurts the pride of others, eith r by endeavouring to impose upon them, or excel them, and therefore
makes them its enemy.
(4) Nothing more exposes affectation than contra>ting it
with its opposite. As affectation wears a disguise, isa double
character, and cre:i.tes suspicion; simplicity is what it appears
to be, has a unity of character, ancl creates confidence.

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EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ES SAYS.

shewing us at once that it is what it appears to be.
In the former there is a duplicity of character, that
which is natural, and that which is assumed; in the
latter there is unity of character, and that perfectly
natural and undisguised; the one creates suspicion,
by endeavouring to impose on us ; the other excites
confidence, by its appearing totally devoid of art.
( 5) The folly of affectation is still greater when
we reflect on the little we can gain by it, and the
loss we are sure to sustain. By endeavouring to
shine in borrowed robes for a moment, we incur
the disgrace of poverty and contempt for our whole
lirns. The abilities we really possess, however
mean, if honestly exercised, will be sure to gain us
a proper degree of respect; "·bile those which we
only counterfeit will not bear examination, and,
when examined, will certai r;l y expose . us to derision.
(6) In short, as Dr. J ~hnson excellent! y illustrates this subject, the possessor of humble virtues, when compared with him who affects greater
excellences than he is entitled to, is like a small

cottage of stone to the palace raised with ice by
the Empress of Russia ; it was for a while splendid
and luminous, but the first sunshine melted it to
nothing.
(7) Young people, therefore, who are the most
liable to be seduced into affectation, should be the
most careful to guard agninst it. Simplicity and
artlessness, as they are the most natural to youth,
are its greatest ornaments ; but, if' once ailectation takes possession of the character, it will be
sure to tarnish it, and render even you th, beauty,
and every commendable quality, disgustin g and
contemptible.

(5) Affectation .is a folly by which we gain nothing but
contempt.
(6) An affected character aptly compared to a palace built
of ice.

-+XXXIII.-ON THE EVILS OF OBSTINACY.
OBSTINACY is a pertinacious and stubborn perseverance in any opinion or course of action we
have once adopted, however absurd and destructive
in its conseque1!ces.
(1) This unhappy error often arises from a
strong desire of appearing consistent, and a shame
of acknowledging ourselves to be in the wrong.

(7) Affectation tarnishes the most shining qualities.
(I) Obstinacy assumes the semblance of a virtue.

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EASY ESSAYS.

EASY ESSAYS.

It is one of those vices which cheai us with a semblance of virtue. Its opposite disposition, versatility, is so contemptible, and constancy, which it
resembles, is so laudable, that it is no wonder that
even well-disposed minds have not courage enough
to change for the b etter, and, for fear of appearing
inconstant, become obstinate.
(2) Thus the most common foundation of obstinacy is pride. ·when we are conscious of having
no real good qualities to value ourselves upon, we
are willing to catch at the shadow of one. This
is a fault which may be traced through the several
stages of life; from the boy at school to the miser
. on his death-bed. How often do we find a boy,
of good dispositions in other respects, continue
obsti1w.le uncler the lash, because h e is ashamed of
being thought cowardly and inconsistent! How
frequently do we meet with young people inflexible
under reproof, and obstinately rej ect the advice of
their friends, because altering their course would
imply their inferiority! What mo~e common than
to see men, who have adopted a false opinion, defend the cause they have once taken up with the

'veakest and most frivolous arguments rather than
yield to conviction, because this would destroy their
self-sufficiency; and when obstinacy has accompanied a man throu gh the former stages of li fe it
cannot be expected it should quit him in age, when
the mind is apt to grow as rigid and inflexible as
the body: and, accordin gly, we too frccpiently fi.tHl
a dyin g father continue obstinate acrainst the remon "
st.ranees of his frien<ls, and disinherit
his nearest
and dearest relations, b~cause he will not be thou"ht
"
weak and feeble-minded.

(2) Obstinacy, under the disguise of steadiness, the vice
of erery stage of life.

(3) Thus pride and self-suffi ciency cheat 11 s
through life, and we b ecome dupes to our own
blindness, in supposing t hat others do not see our
weakness, because we ourselves refuse to acknowledge it. In short, truth, and nothing but t rnth, is
what we ought obstinately to adhere to; for if we are
obstinately attach ed to error, as sure as truth and
falsehood are different things, our misfortunes in li fe
will be in exact proportion to our obstinacy.

(3) Truth alone can make obstinacy laudable.

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EASY ESSAYS.

XXXIV.-ON INDEPENDENCE.

,j

(1) INDEPENDENCE, in the largest and most unlimited sense, is, to created beings, a state impossible. No being is perfectly independent but the
one Supreme Being: all other beings, by their very
nature, are dependent, in the first place, on their
Creator, and in the second on their fellow-creatures; from whose good-will and assistance they
derive their chief happinesss.
(2) This dependence, however, consists in a
mutu al interchange of good offices ; in such a suitable return of favours received as m akes each
party obliged to the other, and at the same time
leaves each other independent. This kind of dependence we find in different countries that trade
in commodities which are necessary to both; by
which means they become 'useful, but not indebted,
to each other.
(3) But the most general sense of independence

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is that of p:-operty. The circulating medium call ed
money, and which is the representative of almost
everything we wish, has in it something so sacred,
that we can never receive it gratuitously without
losing our dignity, and becoming dependent. \Ve
may ask for favours of another ki nd, and though
they are granted to us, we arc not degraded; but
if once we ask a pecu nia ry favour, we lose our ind ependence, and become rnslavcd. No more can
we converse with our creditor on the same equal
terms we did before: no more can 'rn contradict
his opinion, and asse rt our own: a conscious infe riority has deprived us of freedom, ;rncl we are the
slave of him who was formerly our equal.
(4) But the most deplorable part of this pi ctm e
is t hat dependence not only enslaves the rnind,
but tends to cleprm-e the heart. \V e feel ourselves
<legraded by receiving pecuniary farnurs, an<l,
conscious of what our creditor must think of us,
when we cannot return them, we a re apt to view
him with an eye of j ealousy and distaste; a nd thus
insensibly become guilty of one of the worst of
crimes, ingratitud e.

(1) No being perfectly independent bu(God.

(2) The dependence created by trade a kind of inde-

pendence.
.. .
(3) Pecuniary dependence the most hum1hatmg of any.

(4) Pecuniary dependence naturally degrades the mind
and depraves the heart.

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EASY ESSAYS.

( 5) Young people, \v'1o know but little either of
themselves or the world, are apt to think such pictures of human nature misanthropical. They are,
however; such as have been drawn by the experience of all ages and nations, an<l concur with
several other traits to show us the natural depravity
of man. If, therefore, we wish to preserve ourselves
independent; if we wish to maintain a proper dignity of character and freedom of opinion; if we
desire, above all things, to }Jreserve ourselves from
that depravity of heart which we are so apt to slide
into when we cannot pay our debts ; let us beware
of borrowing money : for, as our immortal Shakspeare says,
A loan oft loseth both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the eclge of husbandry.

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XXXV.-ON DELicACY OF PASSION.

( 1) So11rn people are subject to a certain delicacy
of passion, which makes them extremely sensible to
( 5) Young people ought to be particular! y careful to avoid
pecuniary dependence.
(I) P eople of great delicacy of passion are apt to be extremely overjoyed or mortified at the agreeable 01· disagreeable accidents of life.

2 17

EA SY E SS AY S.

all the accidents of life, and giYcs them a lir cly joy
upon every prosperous event., as \rcll as a piercing
grief when they meet. with any strokes of achersity.
Favours and good offi ces easily engage their fri endship, while the smallest injury prornkes their resentment. Any honour or mark of lli stincti on
elevates them aborn measure; but they arc as
sensibly touched with contempt.
(2) People of this character have no doubt mu ch
more lively enjoyments, as well as more pungent
sorrows, than m en of cool and sedate tempers ;
but when every thing is balanced, perhaps th ere
is not one, were he entirely master of his own
disposition, who would not rather choo se to be of
the latter th an the former character.
(3) Good or ill fortun e is very little at our own
disposal; and, when a person tliat has this sensibility of temper meets with any mi sfortune, h is sorrow
or resentment takes entire possession of him, and
ct~ prives him of all relish for the common occurrences of life ·; the right enj oyment of \\·hich forms

(2) People of this class less happy than those that lw.Ye
less delicacy.
(3) Occasions of pleasure much less frequent than those
of ~ain, anrl, therefore, people of a delicacy of fee ling more
subJect to be unhappy.
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E ASY ESSAYS.

the greatest part of our happiness. Great pleasures
are much less frequent than great pains; so that a
sensible temper must meet with fewer trials in the
former way than in the latter ; not to mention that
men of such lively passion~ are apt to be transported beyond all bounds of prudence and discretion, and to take false steps in the conduct of life,
which are often irretrievable.
( 4) In short, the happiness of life consists neither in extreme delicacy of passion nor in a total
want of feeling, but in such a moderate degree of
sensibility as will entitle us to the sympathy of the
rest of the world: for it is very remarkable that,
when either our joy or grief is in extrem e, we have
not so much congratulation or pity as when we
bear our good or ill fortune with temper and mode-

of pass1011, and produces the same sensibility to
beauty and deformity of every kind as that docs
to prosperity and adversity, obligations and injuries.
(2) When you present a poem or a picture to a
man of this talent, the delicacy of hi s feelin g makes
him be touched very sensibly with eYery part. of it;
nor are the masterly strokes perceived with more
exquisite relish and satisfaction than the negligences or absurdities with disgust an d uneasin ess.
A polite and judicious conversation affords him the
highest entertainment; rudeness or impertinence
is as great a punishment to him. In short, delicacy of taste has the same effect as deli cacy of
passion: it enlarges the sphere Loth of happiness
and misery, and makes us sensible to pains as well
as pleasures which escape the rest of mankind.
(3) But, notwithstanding this resemblance, perhaps there is no one who will not acknowledge a
delicacy of passion is to be lamented and to be

ration.

XXXVI .-DELICACY OF TASTE NOT SO DANGEROUS
AS DELICACY OF PASSION.

( 1) THERE is a d elicacy of taste observable in
some men which very nearly resembles a delicacy

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(4) Happiness consists in the medium; in that state of
mind in which the rest of the world can sympathize with us.
(I) Delicacy of taste very similar to delicacy of passion.

(2) Delicacy of taste is charmed with the beauties of
poetry, painting, and music, and as much <lisguste<l with
th eir imperfections.
(3) As <lelicacy of passion is attended with more pain than
pleasure, because we cannot command the accidents of life ;
so <lclicacy of taste is attended with more plellsure than pain,
because we can choose to peruse what pleases us.

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EASY ESSAYS.

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remedied, while a delicacv
of taste ouo-ht
to be
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cultivated and improvecl; for, as the good or ill
accidents of life are very little at our disposal, a
delicacy of passion will expose us to a thousand
mortifications: but as we are pretty much masters
of what books we shall read, what diversions we
shall partake of, and what company we shall keep,
\Ye can find a thousand opportunites of gratifying
our taste.
( 4) Philosophers have endeavoured to render
happiness entirely independent on every thing
external. Such a happiness is impossible to be
attained in this life : but every wise man will endeavour to place his happiness on such objects as
depend most upon himself, and that is not obtained
so much by any other means as by this delicacy of
sentiment. 1iVhen a man is possessed of this
talent, he is more happy by what pleases his taste
than by what gratifies his appetites ; and receives
more enjoyment from a poem, or a piece of reasoning, than from the most expensive gratifications
of luxury.

(4) Delicacy of taste places mu ch of our happiness in our
own power.
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HINTS
FOR CORRECTING AND IMPROVIN G JUVE l\ ILE
COMPOSITION.

THE method of correcting and improrin g composition, which is here offered to the T eacher, is
that which is required for the examination and
amendment of the E xercises in English \rhich are
given to the pupil in the forego ing treatise. E xercises of this kind are so little attended to in the
generality of schools, and, where they are attended
to, are so immethodically conducted, that teachers
themselves, though very able in other respects, yet.
in this part of learning, often stand in need of
assistance as well as pupils. The assistance, therefore, which, with great deference, I would propose, is
that which is the result of my own practice; and, in
offering this, I would rather be supposed to relate
my own method
than be considered as dictatino-0 it
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222

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

to others. For my part I am indebted both to the
learned and the unlearned. I have received valuable hints from those whom I have had the vanity
to think much below me in point of intellect; and
this has induced me to conclude that others, who
are in some respects mucl1; my superiors, may
receive useful hints from me. I shall, therefore,
without further apology, proceed to give such
observations on the correcting and improving of
exercises as I have made use of, and I hope not
without some success.
When the pupil brings his exercise to be examined he should be ordered to read it from the
beginning to the end without interruption. The
teacher should then read over the first sentence
himself, and show the pupil where he has erred,
either in the thought, the structure of the sentence,
the grammar of it, or the choice of words. Every
~lteration, as was observed in the introductio~,
should differ as little as possible from what the pupil
has written, because giving an entire new cast to
the thought and expression, will lead him into an
unknown path not easy to follow, and divert his
mind from that original line of thinking which was
natural to him. Thus in the Theme, Make no more
Haste than good Speed, the proposition is little
more than an amplification of the title, namely,-

IMPROVI KG JUVENILE CO\!PO SIT1 0 1'.

2:23

" Nothing can be more unfavourable to cxpe" 'dition than too much haste, hurry, and iircci pi" tation." Instead of which the p11pil's proposition
is,-It rnay be icell said, that in making too much
haste we lose our time; for 11ot!ti11g can be more
absurd than to hurry over a thing, and do it in an.
improper and bungling 11ww1cr.
H ere is an inference drawn as a reason for not
hurryinO' which contains 110 reason at all; but
"' it is absurd to make too much haste;
only says,
and therefore the thought is not quite correct; but
as correctin<r
the thought mioht too much alter it,
b
and diversity it too much from the pupil's mrn
conception, it would be more advisable, in my
opinion, to improve the proposition, than entirely
to change it, in this manner :-It may be said,
that, in endeavouring to gain time by making
too much haste, ice lose time ; for nothing can be
more urifavourable to business than to hurry it
over, and to do it in an improper and bungling
~

manner.
In the next Theme,
'Tis ill playing with eclgecl Tools,
the proposition is-" As nothing is more dangerous
"than sporting with those instruments which have
" sharp points and keen edges, so nothing is more
"perilous than trifling with those follie s that border

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CO~ll'OSITION.

223

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

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JMPROVI l'iG JUV EN ILE

224

" upon vices which wound the character and hurt
" the morals."
The pupil's proposition is,-Jt is very dangerous
playing icith s!tarp-pointed instruments.
JiVe
play wit!t them, thinking tltey can do us no harm;
and so it is with vice: for at first we be!told it at
a distance; it draws nearer and nearer, till at last
we become so used to it that we do not .look at it
with that horror t!tat we ought to do.
Here, without altering the pupil's thought too
much, it will be easy to reduce the proposition to its
ori ginal form by corresponding conjunctions : As it is very dangerous to play wit!t sharppointed instruments, thinking they can do us no
harm; so it is equally dangerous to trifle wit!t vice:
. f or though at first 1ce view it at a distance, and
seem to be out of its reach, it draws nearer and
nearer, till at last we become so used to it t!tat
we do not look at it with th~t horror t!tat we ought
to do.
This is a short specimen of the manner in which
I have corrected themes ; and which I submit to the
judgment of the teacher. I shall next endeavour
to lay clown some rules and examples for correcting
and improving this species of composition, and leave
to the teacher's discernment the use he is to make
of them.

ON THE COM:.\lENCEMENT OF A SUBJECT.

·In beginning to write on a subj ect, and especially
when we wish to prove a truth by a series of
arguments, we may commence with some short
maxim or self-evident truth, and follow it by ob servations gradually longer, so as to form a sort
of climax in the members of the se ntence, by
m akin"0 the latter lon"er
than those that preceded
0
-somewhat in the manner following:ON GOVERNMENT.

Government is the soul of society: it 1s that
ord er and arrangement among rational creatures
from which they derive almost all the benefits
they enjoy: it is that active and vivifying principle which, while it directs the powers of men
to useful and bene ficial purposes, restrains them
from such exertions as are noxious or hurtful,
&c. &c. &c.
ON TAUTOLOGY.

It is an excellent general rule, that the same
word should, as seldom as poss ible, be repeated ;
but the affectation of varying the word when the
same idea recurs should be almost as carefully
avoided. As there are no perfect synonyms. and

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226

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

IMPROVING JUVE1'1LE CO:l!POS!TlO!\.

but one bare word to be made use of on one particular occasion, so if we vary the word when the
same idea presents itself, we shall want in precision what we gain in sound. . But as every one
can perceive a tautology of words, and but a few
a tautology of ideas; or, in other words, as every
one is a judge of the sameness of sound in the
repeating of words, and but few are judges of the
precise sense of them, a tautology of ideas in
different words will always be the more pardonable
of the two.
W e have a remarkable instance of this superstitious avoidance of tautology in the following passage, from the Preface to Richardson's Specimen
of Persian Poetry:" That the languages of a country where a man
" resides, and with whose natives he has much
" intercourse, are highly important to him, is a
" position . unnecessary to be enforced, because
" universally admitted. N dr is the conclusion less
" obvious, that if such knowledge is to the highest
" degree useful to individuals, how much more
"consequential must it be to the representatives of
" a great commercial body?"
Here, to avoid the repetition of the word important in the first sentence, we find the writer
has adopted the word consequential in the second;

a word never used by good a1Jthors in the scn'c
of important; and if it had been so used, ye~,
without any disagreeable repetition to the ear, it
would, by preserving the original phrase, have preserved the unity of idea better than another word.
But there are occasions in "·hich avoiding
repetition, and diversifying the exp ression, though
the thought may be the same, is not. only allowable,

']}./

but elegant.
Thus when Mr. Addison says,- " The wise man
" is happy when he gains his own approbation;
"the fool, when he recommends himself to 1he
" applause of those about him: " -we find the
repetition of the word approbation avoided in the
last member of the sente nce, though the very same
idea occurs as in the first.
The same obsen'ation is applicalile to the following sentence : "A· friend exaggerates a man's
" virtues; an enemy in Hames his crimes." These
sentences, says a judicious commentator, would
exhibit the opposition in the thought stro nger if
they were written,-" The wise man is happy when
" he gains his own approbation; the fool "·hen he
" 0aains that of others." " A friend exaggerates a
" man's virtues; an enemy, his crimes."
On this criticism on Mr. Addison it may be observed, that when precision is the object, when we

228

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

wish to convey an obscure thought clearly, or a
strong one forcibly, the latter turn of these sentences is preferable to the former; but when the
thought is sufficiently clear, and as strong as is
necessary, the structure and variety of the sentence
seem to be of some importance ; and, if we consult
the eat, I believe it will be found that the former
is preferable to the latter.
ON REDUNDANCY.

As these observations are made .chiefly for the
use of young people, I would advise the teacher to
avoid inculcating that terse neatness and exact .
precision of style which may be adopted in riper
years. As the E ssay is the species of composition
of which the preceding treatise principally consists,
it seems to allow of an exuberance of expression
which is very agreeable to y~ung minds, and is not
unsuitable to that easy and apparent negligence
so remarkable and so happy _in most of Mr'. Addison's Spectators. In these we frequently meet
with words nearly synonymous, which seem to be
adopted for giving a certain plenitude to the sentence, without adding either to its clearness ot
strength. Thus in the following sentence:" If the open professors of impiety deserve the
" utmost application and endeavours of moral

IMPROVING JUY EN !LE CO'.llrO SIT! ON.

22<)

" writ ers to recover them from vice and fo lfy, how
'' much more may they lay a clai m to care and
"compassion who are walking in the paths of
"death, while they fancy themselves engaged in a
" course of virtue."
In this sentence, perhaps, th e words applica tio11,
folly, and care, rather weaken than add force to the
general idea; but a good ear would be loth to part
with these words, for fear of dirninishing th e general
sound of the sentence. The same observations may
be applied to the following passage : " In order, likewise, to come to a true knmvleclge
" of ourselves, we should consider, on the other
" hand, how far we may dese rve the praises and
" approbations which the world besto1rn upon us :
"whether the actions they celebrate proceed from
"laudable and worthy motives ; and how far we
"are really possessed of the virtues which gain us
" applause among those with whom we converse."
- Spectator, No. 399.
H ere, perhaps, the words approbations and worthy might be very well spared without any injury
to the thought, and particula rly the former, as it
pluralizes a general idea, which is hardly ever used
as a plural, ancl which is as pleonastic to th e
ear as it is to the understanding: for it may be laid
clown as an invariable rule, that when the singular

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HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

expresses the sense as clearly and as fully as 'the
plural, it is always more elegant. Another instance
we have of this in a Spectator of Mr. Addison's,
No. 169.
" This part of good nature, however, which con" sists in the pardoning and overlooking of faults,
"is to be 1exercised only in doing ourselves justice;
" and that, too, in the ordinary commerce and
" occurrences of life; for in the public administra" tions of justice, .mercy to one may be cruelty to
" others."
Here administrations, m the plural number, is
not only useless, but inelegant.
ON THE STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

In constructing sentences, the strongest part of
the thought, or that which forms the result, should
come the last: for which reason, all circumstances
and all conditional members ought to be placed in
the middle, or at the beginning of the sentence.
Thus, if instead of saying-" The English delight
" in silence more than any other European nation,
" if the remarks which are made on us by foreig1iers
" are true* ,"-we say, " If the remarks which are
" made on us by foreigners are true, the English
*Spectator, No. 135.

IMPROVIN G JUVENILE CO'.\!I'OSITION.

2 31

"delight in silence more than any other EuropC'an
"nation,"-we shall add to the force of the observation, while we improve the sound.
A similar sentence of Mr. Addison's might, i1erh aps, be improvecl by a similar transposition : "Among all the poets of this kind, our English
"are much the best, by what I have seen ; whether
"it be that we abound with more stories of this
"nature, or that the genius of our country is fitter
"for this sort of poetry :"-better thus : "Whether it be, that we abound with more stories
"of this nature, or that the genius of our country is
"fitter for this sort of poetry-by what I have seen,
"among all the poets of this kind, our English are
"much the best."
vVhere a sentence, or a member of a sentence, is
antithetic, and divides itself into two constructive
parts, the latter member ought, in general, to be full
as long as the former; and even if it be longer, it
,\'ill be more graceful, and form a better cadence.
Mr. Addison seems remarkably attentive to this
proportion in the structure of his sentences, and
appears sometimes to extend the latter member
merely to fill the sentence and please the ear.
"As ·there are many eminent critics who never
" wrote a good line, there are many admirable buf" foons that animadvert upon every single defect in

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"another, without ever discoverincr
the least beautv
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"of their own."-Spectator, No. 249.
In this example we find the length of the latter
member add to the beauty as well as the strength
of the sentence.
"As there are to be found in the service of envy
" nien Of every diversity of temper and degree of
"understanding, calumny is diffused by all methods
" and arts of propagation. "-Jolmson.
The latter member of this sentence seems to be
too short for the former; and, perhaps, the cadence
might be much improved by a small addition:- .
"As there are to be found in the service of envy
"men of every diversity of temper and degree of
"understanding, calumny is diffused by all those
"methods of propagation whid1 eiLl1er ill-nature or
"ingenuity can suggest."
ON THE CONNEXION OF SENTE NCES BY THE
CONJUNCTIO~ "AND."

The copulative conju~ction and sho'u ld not only
couple like cases, but like forms of; speech. Thus
in the pupil's exercise, On the Effects ef Learning
on the Countenance, I find the following passage : It is a true remarlc, that whatever passion has
the greatest ascendancy over the heart, it is sure to
sl1ew i"tself on the countenance, though for a long

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233

time after tlze cause has subsided; f or £11stai;ce, t/ie
death ef a dear friend will leave a settled gloom,
and any joyful event may be traced on the countenance for some time after.
This sentence I have corrected in the following
manner:" It is a true remark, that what ever passion bas a
"great ascendancy over the heart, that passion is
" sure to shew itself in the countenance. vVe have
"frequent occasion to observe, that the death of a
" dear friend will leave a settled gloom, and any
"joyful event a cheerful gaiety, on the countenance,
" for some time after the event s have happened."
Among the corrections of this pass8ge it may
be observed, that t~e t\ro last members connected
by and are much improved by giving them the same
form; that is, by saying, the death qf a dear friend
will leave a settled gloom, and a Joyful even t a
chee1ful gaiety, on tlte countenance, instead of lite
death of a clear .friend will lei:we a settled glofJm, ancl
any Joy.fill event may be traced on the countenance.
This rule may be furth er exemplified by an exercise on the subject of Diversions . .
The pupil's first sentence on this subj ect was,Recreation is regaling our spirits after having
been employed,. and malces our studies more deliglttful, as it gives the mind, as u;ell as the body, vigour.

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HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

This sentence may be corrected in the following
manner:" Recreation is recruiting our spirits after having
"been much employed, which makes our studies
" more delightful, as it gives the mind, as well as
"the bpdy, fresh vigour."
But I think it may be still further improved by
making the conjunction copulative and couple like
forms of speech in the manner following : " Recreation is recruiting our spirits after being
" much employed, and making our studies more
"delightful by giving fresh vigour both to the body
" and the mind."
A few more instances will shew the propriety of
the rule in a still clearer light.
" It should be an indispensable rule in life to
" contract our desires to our present condition; and
"whatever may be our expectations, we should
"live within the compass 1 of what we actually
" possess."
This sentence will be greatly amended by adopting the infinitive mood in the last member as well
as the first.
" It should be an indispensable rule in life to
"contract our desires to our present condition, and,
• "whatever may be our expectations, to live within
" the compass of what we actually possess."
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IMPROVING JUVENILE COll!POSITION.

235

The following sentence of Dr. Johnson's seems
to be faulty for the same reason:"He that embarks in the voyage of life will
"always wish to advance rather by the impulse of
" the wind than the stroke of the oar; and many
"founder in their passage while they lie waiting for
''th e gal e. ,,
Here the last member connected by and has a
quite different form from the first; and it is presumed
that the sentence might be greatly improve<l by the
following alteration : " He that embarks in the voyage of life will
" always wish to advance rather by the impulse of
" the wind than the stroke of the oar, and to gain
" advantage Ly the exertions of others rather than
" by those of his own."
This rule mayTeceive some further illustration by
some examples where the conjunction and seems
to be used improperly.
" Truth seems to fly from curiosity; and, as
" many inquiries produce many narratives, what" ever engages the public attention is immediately
" disguised by the embellishments of fiction."Joltnson.
In this sentence it should seem that, if the second member had begun with for instead of and, a
reason would have been given for the truth of the

236

23i

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

IMPROVING JUVENILE cmtP OSJTIO"·

first member, and both ·of them would have been
more intimately connected.
The same may be ouserved of the following
sentence:" All, perhaps, 'are more willing to honour past
" than present excellence ; an~ the mind contem" plates genius through the shades of age as the
" ey e surveys the sun through artificial opacity.".Tohnson.
In this sentence for or because should seem preferable to and.

the word owing for due; but it sometimes happens
that there are certain shades of thou ght which it
requires some assistance to supply. Thus, in the
Theme, 'Tis ill playing with edgecl T ools, the pupil's exercise, speaking of the fly, says, Wh en first
it sees the candle it frisks abou t it with delight till
ifs wings are caught in the flam es, and the ]!Oor
· · to z't s Jo
-f'. lly
H erc the "·o rd
insect dies a victim
·1 •

ON THE CHOICE OF WORDS.

·w hen a word occurs which is not suitable to the
idea we want to express, and that a better does not
readily suggest itself, perhaps it will be found useful
to look for the word in Johnson's Dictionary,
which will, in all probabil,ity, furnish us with the
word we want.
I
In one of Steele's L etters, in the Spectator, No.
431, we have an instance of a strange impropriety
in the use of the "·ord du e : " The calamities of children are due to the negli" genqe and misconduct of parents; those of age to
· "the past life which led to it."
\Ve need not look into a dictionary to substitute

frisks is rather a low expression, and under the
word in J ohnson we shall find frolic!cs, whi ch is
infinitely preferable. In the same manner m the
Theme, A Man is known b!J his Company, the
pupil's position is, Nothing is a g rea ter pioof
ef our dispositions, mann ers, an d ch aracters, than
tlie dispositions, manners, and characters;~( those
. we lceep company with. H ere the won! pro~/ seen:s
not to be exactly the word we should use ; and if
we examine John son's Dictionary under the word we
shall find it explained by eviden ce, testimony, and
convincing token; th e last of which I apprehend to
Le preferable to proof, and indica tion preferable to
that.

ON

RAISING AND INVIGORATING THE
LANGUAGE.

It may be·observed, that hn guage is rais ed and
invigorated by attriuuting sense to inanimate ob-

238

HINTS FOR CORRECTING AND

jects, reason and moral attributes to animals, and
theological epithets to mere moral or political
subjects. This elevation of language is beautiful
in verse, and may often with great advantage be
adopted in prose, especially if the prose be at all
sentimental or impassioned : thusThe stubborn earth does not her treasures yield,
Till pierced ;mcl gm•<led by the vigorous plough.
Grove nods at grove; each alley has its brother ;
And half the platform just reflects the other.-Pope.
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain.-Milton.
The g enerous steed you pompously bestride,
Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.-Pope.
The honest ox and jaitliful do~ surpass,
In moral goodness, many a titled ass.
The filial duty we our parents owe,
On this the name of piety besto'w.
And thus when ministers misguide the state,
We call them impious and prqfligate.

Here, by giving the earth the stubbornness of an
animal, we more strongly express its sterility: by
calling the waving of one grove to another nodding
we give them animation: by styling the winds
felons we strongly express their rarnges: by giving

IMPROVING JUVENILE COMPOSJTIO:'i".

239

the steed generosity, the ox honesty, and the dog
fidelity, we raise them to the rank of moral agents;
and by callin~ filial duty piety, ancl the bad policy
of a minister profligacy, we heighten the one to an
act of religion, and degrade the other to an act
of impiety.

---+CONCLUSION.
These observations are not offered to Teachers as
entirely new, but as such as more particularly regard
the instruction of youth in their juvenile composi tions; and which seem to have been less atten<led
to than those parts of Rhetoric which are calculated
for the more perfect composition of riper years.
Those who wish to see almost every thing that can
be said on the subject may consult Blair's L ectures on Rhetoric and the Belles L ettres, and the
third edition of my own Rhetorical Grammar. I
shall think myself happy if I have here given a few
rules that may be useful to those who have neither
leisure nor capacity for larger and deeper works,
and who will be contented with such of the most
obvious directions as they can easily comprehend
and put in practice.
THE END.

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