same rustic ornament, we may conclude from his description of the lark bidding him good-morrow,

Thro' the sweet-briar, or the vine,

Or the twisted eglantine :'

for it is evident, that he meant a sort of honey-suckle by the eglantine; though that word is commonly used for the sweet-briar, which he could not mention twice in the same couplet.

If I ever pass a month or six weeks at Oxford in the Summer, I shall be inclined to hire and repair this venerable mansion, and to make a festival for a circle of friends, in honour of Milton, the most perfect scholar, as well as the sublimest poet, that our country ever produced. Such an honour will be less splendid, but more sincere and respectful, than all the pomp and ceremony on the banks of the Avon.'

Writing to the same noble person from Paris, he says:

While Mrs. Poyntz staid at Lyons, I made an excursion to Geneva, in hopes of seeing Voltaire, but was disappointed. I sent him a note with a few verses, implying that the muse of tragedy had left her ancient seat in Greece and Italy, and had fixed her abode on the borders of a lake, &c. He returned this answer: "The worst of French poets and philosophers is almost dying; age and sickness have brought him to his last day; he can converse with nobody, and entreats Mr. Jones to excuse and pity him. He presents him with his humble respects." But he was not so ill as he imagined; for he had been walking in his court, and went into his house just as I came to it. The servants shewed me somebody at a window, who they said was he; but I had scarce a glimpse of him. I am inclined to think that Voltaire begins to be rather serious, when he finds himself upon the brink of eternity; and that he refuses to see company, because he cannot display his former wit and sprightliness.'

The conduct of Voltaire on this occasion, together with his reception of Mr. Gibbon on another, does not very well agree with the accounts given of the veteran's politeness to strangers. To persons of rank, or of established fame, or to those who had influence in considerable French circles, he was of easy access but it seems that he did not want reserve when young candidates for distinction requested permission to offer him. their homage. He perhaps thought that our hero ought to have approached him with more form; and that he should have come furnished with letters of introduction, and not have presumed to claim admission to him as a fellow votary of the muses. Be this as it may, the simple tale sufficiently exposes the incivility of the Frenchman, while it is much to the creditof the visitor that he suffers no censure on it to escape his pen. We have often suspected that the critical severity of Gibbon on Voltaire might have been caused by the slight treatment which the former experienced from the old wit.-in the course of this

Z 2

letter,

letter, the shocking accident of the night of the fire-works at Paris is mentioned; and at the close of his epistle, the writer tells her Ladyship, that 'in the midst of all the disasters of the fire-works, the Mareschal de Richlieu was in such a panic, that he got out of his carriage, and screamed out, Est-ce qu'on veut laisser perir un Mareschal de France? N'y a-t-il personne pour secourir un Mareschal de France ?-This will be an eternal joke against him!

As evidence of the wide range which Mr. Jones took in literature, we cannot omit to mention a translation from the original of a Chinese poem, which was very antient in the time of Confucius, and which he forwarded at this period from Paris to his friend Reviczki. The subsequent passage also discloses the diversity of his pursuits, and shews with what a critical eye he surveyed the writings of others:

From the terms (says Lord T.) in which Mr. Jones speaks of thetragedy of Soliman, in one of his letters, it appears, that he was considerably advanced towards its completion; and from the mention which he afterwards makes of it, in another to Reviczki, it would seem that it was actually finished, but I have in vain attempted to discover any traces of it. The preface to Soliman, written by Mr. Jones, has been communicated to me, but does not appear sufficiently correct for publication. He notices in it the custom of poets to send abroad their pieces with prefatory discourses calculated to mislead the taste or judgment of their readers, and exemplifies the remark, by reference to Dryden, La Motte, and Corneille. Of Dryden, he observes, that having composed tragedies in rhyme, he thought it necessary to prepare the public for so novel an attempt by telling them in his advertisements, that every tragedy should be written in rhyme; that La Motte purposely violated the unities of the Drama; while Corneille preserved them with an exactness approaching to affectation; and that each endeavoured in a prefatory discourse to prove himself alone in the right. He disclaims all idea of imitating a conduct, which he pronounces absurd and useless, and contents himself with a few hints on the principles which had directed him in the composition of the tra gedy.

About this period, he quitted the Spencer family, and entered himself at the Temple. He did not, however, at once relinquish his Oriental studies, but was occupied for some time in finishing, and preparing for the press, several productions on which he had been employed in preceding years.

In a letter to Count Reviczki, who had admonished him not to neglect the pleasures which were becoming at his time of life, he replies in terms that will give our readers a farther insight into his character:

Do not imagine that I despise the usual enjoyments of youth; no one can take more delight in singing and dancing than Ido, nor in the

moderate

moderate use of wine, nor in the exquisite beauty of the ladies, of whom London affords an enchanting variety; but I prefer glory, my supreme delight, to all other gratifications, and I will pursue it through fire and water, by day and by night. Oh! my Charles, (for I enounce all ceremony, and address you with ancient simplicity) what a boundless scene opens to my view; if I had two lives, I should scarcely find time for the due execution of all the public and private projects which I have in mind.'

In the same letter, he mentions an epic poem which he intended to write, and which his biographer thus describes :

The plan of it was sketched during his residence at Spâ, in July 1770. The original manuscript has been preserved; and I am enabled to communicate it to the public. The subject of the poem was the supposed discovery of our island by Tyrian adventurers, and he proposed to exhibit, under the character of the prince of Tyre, that of a perfect king of this country; a character which he pronounces the most glorious and beneficial of any that the warmest imagination can form. It represents (to quote his own words) the dangers to which a King of England is necessarily exposed, the vices which he must avoid, and the virtues, and great qualities, with which he must be adorned. On the whole, "Britain Discovered" is intended as a poetical panegyrick on our excellent constitution, and as a pledge of the author's attachment to it; as a national epic poem, like those of Homer, Virgil, Tasso, and Camoens, designed to celebrate the honours of his country, to display in a striking light the most important principles of politics and morality, and to inculcate these grand maxims, that nothing can shake our state, while the true liberty of the subject remains united with the dignity of the sovereign, and that in all states, virtue is the only sure basis of private and public happiness.'

Mr. Jones also speaks of a Turkish history which he had at this time nearly finished; and,

In the commencement of 1774, he published his Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry. This work was received with admiration and applause by the Oriental scholars of Europe in general, as well as by the learned of his own country. It was perhaps the first publication on Eastern literature, which had an equal claim to elegance and erudition. This work was begun by Mr. Jones in 1766, and finished in 1769, when he was in his twenty-third year; but with the same solicitude which he had exhibited on other occasions, to lay his compositions before the public in the greatest possible perfection, lie had repeatedly submitted the manuscript to the examination and critical remarks of his learned friends.'

Dr. Parr, in a letter to Mr. Jones, thus delivers his opinion of the above work:

"I have read your book De Poesi Asiatica with all the attention that is due to a work so studiously designed, and so happily executed. The observations are just and curious, and equally free from

23

indis

indiscriminate approbation, licentious censure, and excessive refine

ment.

"Through the hurry of the first composition, the same expression frequently occurs, and sentences begin in the same manner, and now and then two words are improperly combined.

"These inaccuracies are very rare and very trifling. On the whole there is a purity, an ease, an elegance in the style, which shew an accurate and most perfect knowledge of the Latin tongue. Your Latin translations in verse gave me great satisfaction. I am uncommonly charmed with the idyllium, called Chrysis. The flow of the verses, the poetic style of the words, and the elegant turn of the whole poem, are admirable.

"On the whole I have received infinite entertainment from this curious and learned performance, and I look forward with pleasure, to the great honour such a publication will do our country.'

At the conclusion of the Commentaries (says Lord Teignmouth) we find an elegant address to the Muse, in which Mr. Jones expresses his determination to renounce polite literature, and devote himself entirely to the study of the law. He was called to the Bar in January 1774, and had discovered, as he writes to an intimate friend, that the law was a jealous science, and would admit no partnership with the Eastern muses. To this determination he appears to have inflexibly adhered for some years, notwithstanding the friendly, remonstrances and flattering invitations of his learned correspondents.'

The very learned Schultens, in a letter to our countryman, thus remonstrates with him on his desertion of literature: As sincere a lover as yourself of the Muses, how much I regret their unhappy lot, that whilst they have so few admirers, one of their most distinguished votaries should be seduced from their service by the discordant broils of the bar. Do they not then possess such charms and graces as to merit a preference to others who have no portion but wealth and honour? Is not their beauty so attractive, their dress so elegant and enchanting, as to fascinate their admirers to a degree, which makes them despise all others, and feel no delight but in their society? To this expostulation, we add the reply of Mr. Jones, though long, because it displays to us the views that led him to the important step which he had taken, and announced to the world:

I am highly gratified by your father's and your approbation of my Commentaries, and I acknowledge the kindness of your friendly and polite expostulation in telling me that you cannot bear to see me desert the cause of literature. But, my friend, the die is cast, and I have no longer a choice; all my books and manuscripts, with an exception of those only which relate to law and oratory, are locked up at Oxford, and I have determined for the next twenty years.at least, to renounce all studies but those which are connected with my profession. It is needless to trouble you with my reasons at length for this determination, I will only

say, that if I had lived at Rome or Athens, I should have preferred the labours, studies, and dangers of their orators and illustrious citizens, connected as they were with banishment and even death, to the groves of the poets, or the gardens of the philosophers. Here I adopt the same resolution. The Constitution of England is in no respect inferior to that of Rome or Athens; this is my fixed opinion, which I formed in my earliest years, and shall ever retain. Although I sincerely acknowledge the charms of polite literature, I must at the same time adopt the sentiment of Neoptolemus in the tragedy, that we can philosophize with a few only, and no less the axiom of Hippocrates, that life is short, art long, and time swift. But I will also maintain the excellence and the delight of other studies. What, shall we deny that there is pleasure in mathematics, when we recollect Archimedes, the prince of geometricians, who was so intensely absorbed in the demonstration of a problem, that he did not discover Syracuse was taken? Can we conceive any study more important, than the single one of the laws of our own country? Let me recall to your recollection the obser vations of L. Crassus and Q. Scævola on this subject, in the treatise of Cicero de Oratore. What do you imagine the goddess of eloquence to possess less attractions than Thalia or Polyhymnia, or have you forgotten the epithets which Ennius bestows on Cethegus, the quintessence of eloquence, and the flower of the people? Is there a man existing who would not rather resemble Cicero, whom I wish absolutely to make my model, both in the course of his life and studies, than be like Varro, however learned, or Lucretius, however ingenious as a poet? If the study of the law were really unpleasant and disgusting, which is far from the truth, the example of the wisest of the ancients, and of Minerva herself, the goddess of wisdom, would justify me in preferring the useful olive to the barren laurel.

To tell you my mind freely, I am not of a disposition to bear the arrogance of men of rank, to which poets and men of letters are so often obliged to submit. Accept this friendly reply to your friendly expostulation, and believe my assurances that I entertain the highest value for your esteem, of which I have received so many proofs. I most anxiously expect your dissertation. May the Almighty prosper your labours, and particularly your laborious task of Meidani. May the most learned Scheidius persevere with resolution in compleating the gigantic work, which he meditates. I admire his most laudable industry, but after the fate of Meninski, (I do not speak of his works, but of his fortunes) no prudent man (for he that is not wise to himself is wise to no end) will venture to expose his vessel to the perils of shipwreck in so uncertain a sea. The work is worthy of a king, but the expense of it will require the revenue of a king.'

We now behold this delight of scholars, this wonder of the age, transformed into a young lawyer, and taking his seat on the back-benches of Westminster-Hall :-we see the man on whom the compliments of all the learned men of Europe, and