his picture, he was surprised and mortified to find every part of it covered with faults. Not a muscle of the body, or a feature of the face, but bore some sign of disapprobation. Resolving, however, to see whether his piece was entirely destitute of beauties, he hung it up next morning in the same place, desiring, that every one would be so kind as to set some mark on what he thought the excellences of the picture. Coming as before in the evening to carry it away, it was not a little consolation to him to find those very parts, that had before exhibited the strongest signs of dislike, now marked with the utmost encomium; to find, that if he had before had reason to lament having excited universal disgust, he might now be proportionably proud of having conciliated universal admiration.-B. N° 19. MONDAY, MARCH 19, 1787. Οἷον δὲ τρέφει ἔρνος ἀνὴς ἐριθηλὲς ἐλαίης Παντοίων ἀνέμων, καὶ τε βρύει ἄνθει λευκῳ· Βόθρου τ' εξέστρεψε, και ἐξετάνυσσ ̓ ἐπὶ γαίη.—HOMER's Iliad. As the young olive in some sylvan scene, A lovely ruin, now defac'd and dead.-POPE. It is an observation founded on a general survey of mankind, and which I am afraid a closer inspection would not controvert, that one half of the world knows not how the other exists. This how ever might in part be attributed to the insufficiency of human nature; were it not a melancholy truth, that their negligence in this point is equal to their ignorance. Nursed in the lap of luxury, the son of fortnne, whose budding hopes have never been nipped by the blast of adversity, turns his eyes with contemptuous disgust from the cheerless scenes of penury and distress, to the dazzling glare, which, under pretence of lulling sorrow, stares reflection out of countenance, and convicts reason of Cynicism by the specious appearance of indulging harmless gaiety. The listless apathist, becalmed in his own insensibility, looks with a vacant eye on the terrors of conflicting passion; or as the utmost exertion of his pity, endeavours to allay the storm of a weak but generous mind, with the dictatorial precepts of a closeted philosopher. Those of the above description I warn to proceed no farther in this paper. To the feeling, and in this community I should hope the major part of my readers, the authenticity of the following story will carry with it a sufficient apology. The father of Frederic having from an early pique secluded himself from mankind, devoted an ample fortune to his family, his stables, and his cellar, in the extremity of Somersetshire. He was naturally of a morose, saturnine temper, which a considerable quantity of port, regularly discussed after dinner for a continuance of thirty years, had not a little contributed to heighten. The usual companion of his leisure hours was the parish attorney, a supple knave, who, as occasion served, could rail at the times, praise the wine, take snuff, or ring for t'other bottle. Argument, it is natural to suppose, would not have beguiled many hours with such a duumvirate; but the 'squire was distrustful of any thing human to be circumvented in the common way; and his Achates too much a master of arts to attempt it. By a feint therefore at first of opposition, and at every convenient opportunity of conviction, he frequently flattered this petty tyrant more agreeably, and sometimes allured him to his own opinion. The subject of his eldest son's education was long on the tapis; the 'squire being too much of a misanthrope to relish the idea of a public school, and the lawyer too jealous of the boy's growing influence, not to wish so powerful an obstacle removed. At length however by a more than usual exertion of artifice, he wheedled the old gentleman out of his prejudices, and at ten years of age, Frederic was sent to Eton. Even at this early period the natural warmth of his disposition had begun to display itself. Open, candid, and generous, his heart was the constant companion of his hand, and his tongue the artless index of his mind. As his ideas expanded, his virtues. seemed to have acquired a larger scope; and the unsuspecting generosity which had before induced him heedlessly to deposit his joys and griefs with every stranger, to have been matured into a warm philanthropic benevolence for human nature, and a romantic attachment to the few who were the more immediate objects of his affections. Exposed alike to the attacks of all generous passions, the impetuous sallies of his temper were as easily suppressed as excited. Jealous in the extreme of obligations, and keenly sensitive in any point which appealed to his honour or compassion, he was always a stranger to the calm serenity of a virtuous mind; and ultimately overwhelmed by those feelings which are so often the pleasing curse of a luxuriant imagination. To these qualifications of the heart, Frederic added the endowments of an elegant fancy; often indeed too impatient of the necessary restrictions of art, but naturally corrected by so pure a taste, as to enable him to discern, with admirable perspicuity, the limits of true and false beauty; and those of his classical compositions which peculiarly struck his ideas, united that vivid, energetic glow of thought, which true genius alone can conceive, to a simple chastity of expression which only correct judgment can define. As an agreeable polish to so much intrinsic merit, his countenance was lively and animated, his figure genteel, and his manners engaging. In human as in inanimate nature, similar qualities will have a mutual attraction. By directing our thoughts to the same objects; by viewing each other's ideas with a sympathetic benevolence; nay, even by those friendly contests, which in the most perfect unanimity of opinion the digressive sallies of enthusiasm sometimes give rise to; but which tend only to diversify the calm of universal concurrence, we insensibly glide into that intimate harmony, without which society is but a state of armed neutrality, little superior to the open warfare of savage nature. By each of these ties was a romantic friendship cemented between Frederic and Edmond; their sentiments and inclinations mutually led them to a tender regard for each other's virtues. And as they were equally blessed with all external contingencies towards happiness in future, they looked forward with satisfaction to the scene of active life, which seemed to invite them to the honourable exertion of their abilities. But alas! so fair a morning was overcast in its dawn. Frederic's virtues, which, though they could not have prolonged his existence, might at least have entitled him to a calm resignation of his breath, and the sublime satisfaction of a tranquil mind in the awful moment of dissolution, were blasted by the artful insinuations of a villain. The worthy perpetrator of this precious piece of villany, had, by magnifying puerile foibles into the premeditated depravities of a black heart, at length so estranged the affections of his father, as to prevail on him to make a will entirely in his own favour: and the first notice of his displeasure was conveyed to Frederic by the executor, some days after his death. Melancholy, to a soft and lively mind, is at first an unwelcome stranger; the propensity to indulge its sensations is strongly ingrafted in our natures, and we feel our own weakness though we cannot overcome it. It was in vain that Frederic called to mind every consolatory precept which philosophy can so well suggest, but human nature so ill practise, on these occasions; he began to lose his relish for society, and even to avoid the company of a friend, to whom he could now look on his attachment in no other light than as a burden. The quick jealousy of Edmond did not let this alteration pass unobserved. He endeavoured, by an increased attention, to dispel the cloud he perceived lowering on his friend's spirits; but in vain. Resolved therefore, by one effort, to request that confidence which his esteem taught him he was entitled to, he took the opportunity of communicating one day his observations, and complaining of that reserve which had before been a stranger to their intercourse. Frederic felt this reproach, and resolved to sacrifice his own feelings to those of his friend. Edmond,' said he, hitherto we have lived together in the most uninterrupted union; that we might have died as we have lived was the fondest hope my imagination ever cherished; that hope is blasted. Whatever may have dictated this letter, I am guiltless of having given the most trivial occasion for it.' Edmond read the letter with that mixed emotion which a good mind feels at the calamity of a friend, and the prospect of relieving it. My friend,' he replied, what delicacy would otherwise have prevented me from pressing, your candour has forced from me; need I tell you, that providence has furnished me with ample means for our mutual happiness; despise, while I - 6 |