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through with such delight, by all those (a considerable part of my fellow-citizens) who cannot resist the impulse of curiosity, or withstand the allurements of a title-page? Can we be surprised, that they look forward, with expecting eagerness, to that inundation of delicious nonsense, with which the press annually overflows; replete as it is with stories without invention, anecdotes without novelty, observations without aptness, and reflections without morality?

Under this description come the generality of these performances. There are, no doubt, a multitude of exceptions. The paths which a Fielding and a Richardson have trodden, must be sacred. Were I to profane these by impertinent criticism, I might with justice be accused of avowed enmity to wit; of open apostacy from true feeling, and true

taste.

But let me hope to stand excused from the charge of presumption, if even here I venture some observations, which I am confident must have occurred to many; and to which almost every body, when reminded of them, will be ready to give a hearty

concurrence.

Is not the novel of Tom Jones, however excellent a work of itself, generally put too early into our hands, and proposed too soon to the imitation of children? That it is a character drawn faithfully from nature, by the hand of a master, most accurately delineated, and most exquisitely finished, is indeed indisputable. But is it not also a character, in whose shades the lines of right and wrong, of propriety and misconduct, are so intimately blended, and softened into each other, as to render it too difficult for the indiscriminating eye of childhood to distinguish between rectitude and error? Are not its imperfections so nearly allied to excellence, and does not the excess of its good qualities bear so

strong an affinity to imperfection, as to require a more matured judgment, a more accurate penetration, to point out the line where virtue ends and vice begins? The arguments urged in opposition to this are, that it is a faithful copy of nature.-Undoubtedly it is-but is nature to be held up to the view of childhood, in every light, however unamiable; to be exhibited in every attitude, however unbecoming? the hero's connexion with Miss Seagrim, for instance, and the supposed consequences of it are very natural no doubt; are they therefore objects worthy of imitation? But that a child must admire the character, is certain; that he should wish to imitate what he admires, follows of course; and that it is much more easy to imitate faults than excellences, is an observation too trite, I fear, not to be well founded. A character virtuous and amiable in the aggregate, but vicious in particular parts, is much more dangerous to a mind, prone to imitation, as that of youth naturally is, than one wicked and vicious in the extreme. The one is an open assault of an avowed enemy, which every one has judgment to see, and consequently fortitude to resist; the other is the treacherous attack of an insidious invader; who makes the passions his agents to blind the judgment, and bribes the understanding to betray the heart.-Such is the character of Jones. He interests our affections at the moment that his actions revolt against our ideas of propriety; nor can even his infidelity to Sophia, however ungrateful, nor his connexion with Lady Bellastone, though perhaps the most degrading situation in which human nature can be viewed, materially lessen him in our esteem and admiration. On these grounds therefore, though there cannot be a more partial admirer of the work itself, I cannot hesitate a moment to consider that 'faultless monster' Sir Charles Grandison, whose insipid uniformity of goodness it

is fashionable to decry, far the more preferable to be held up to a child as an object of imitation. The only objection urged to this is, that Grandison is too perfect to be imitated with success. And to what does this argument amount? truly this, it tends to prove, that an imitator cannot come up to his original; consequently, the surest way to become a Jones, is to aim at being a Grandison: for according to that argument, let a man rate his virtues at the highest price, and the natural bias of his passions will make him bate something of his valuation. -Hence therefore the character of Grandison is assuredly the properer pattern of the two. An attempt at the imitation of that, must necessarily be productive of some attainment in virtue. The character of Jones can neither operate as an incitement to virtue, or a discouragement from vice. He is too faulty for the one, and too excellent for the other. Even his good qualities must, on an undiscerning mind, have a bad effect; since, by fascinating its affections, they render it blind to his foibles; and the character becomes the more dangerous, in proportion as it is the more amiable.

But to return from this long digression, to the consideration of novels in general. Some of my fellow-citizens may perhaps conjecture, that I have affected to undervalue them from interested, motives; and that I would wean them from their study of them, for the purpose only of increasing the demand for my own lucubrations. To wipe off any suspicions of the kind, and to prove to them that my only motives are a view to their advantage, I promise, in the course of a few numbers, to point out to the observation, and recommend to the perusal of professed novel readers, a set of books, which they now treat with undeserved contempt, but from which I will prove, that they may derive at least as much entertainment, and certainly much more useful instruc

195 tion, than from the dull details of unmeaning sentiment, and insipid conversation; of incidents the most highly unnatural, and events the most uninteresting.-B.

N° 27. MONDAY, MAY 21, 1787.

Virtutem incolumen odimus,

Sublatam ex oculis quærimus invidi.-HORACE.

Though living virtue we despise,

We follow her when dead with envious eyes.-FRANCIS.

It has generally been the fate of illustrious merit, to be persecuted and reviled; neglected and oppressed, when living; and exposed to the derision of the ignorant, and the wanton insults of the unfeeling. The brave has been stigmatized as a coward, the patriot has been accused of treachery, the philosopher of atheism, the poet and the historian of plagiarism, infidelity, and partiality. When dead, it has been loaded with superfluous honours, and the powers of flattery and panegyric exhausted to decorate its tomb. A patron has given a sumptuous burial to him, whom living he suffered to starve in a garret, or rot in a jail; and a nation has erected a monument of her gratitude over the remains of a statesman or a general, whom she had exiled from his country, or meanly deprived of the just reward of his exertions and abilities. The tide, when too late, takes a different turn; and as extremes are always opposite, a blind adoration is paid to the memory of him who not long before was the object of public hatred or contempt. Let us endeavour to trace to its source the cause of such an impolitic mode of treatment, which seems to throw such an effectual damp on the

ardour of ambition; and check in its rise, that desire of glory and emulation of an illustrious predecessor, which is the only source of great actions.

It has been observed, that time alone can decide the degree of estimation to which every man is entitled; the partialities or prejudices of contemporaries exalt or depress every virtue, heighten or palliate every fault, and represent every action in the light that is most favourable to their different purposes of panegyric or invective. It is difficult to find the candid historian of his own times, who, if deeply concerned in the transactions he records, will relate the narrative of contending factions without prejudice or bias; and he who expects to find an impartial account in a Clarendon, will most probably search for that which has never yet existed. By comparing the opposite characters of the same man, and making a due allowance for the exaggerations on either side; by judiciously blending the two extremes, and considering the effects which his measures have had on posterity; his true character is to be delineated. Few possess such clear heads and cool passions, as to resist the torrent of prejudice and party which assails them; and as there is no man who has not sometimes erred in his conduct, to this, as well as to other causes, is the ungrateful treatment of great men to be ascribed. It is the business of malice to point out this error, and mankind is too prone secretly to wish the downfal of those, whose abilities have raised them above the common level. To us who judge coolly at a distance, whose passions are not immediately interested in the cause, it is a subject of astonishment, that men could ever have been so blind to their own interests, as to have neglected or ill treated the worthy and the great, at the instigation of the profligate and unprincipled; it is an infatuation whch is not to be accounted for, unless we consult he

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