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false, that the principles of religion are either | true or false, before you think of them. The truth of things is already fixed; either there is a God, or no God; either your souls are immortal, or they are not; either the scriptures are a divine revelation, or an imposture; one of these is certain and necessary, and they are not now to be altered. Things will not comply with your conceits, and bend themselves to your interests: therefore do not think what you would have to be; but consider impartially what is.'

The other great writer is particularly useful in his rapturous soliloquies, wherein he thinks of the Deity with the highest admiration, and beholds himself with the most contrite lowliness. My present business,' says he, 'is to treat of God, his being and attributes; but "who is sufficient for these things?" At least, who am I, a silly worm, that I should take upon me to speak of him, by whom alone I speak; and being myself but a finite sinful creature, should strive to unveil the nature of the infinite and Most Holy God! Alas! I cannot so much as begin to think of him, but immediately my thoughts are confounded, my heart is perplexed, my mind amazed, my head turns round, my whole soul seems to be unhinged and overwhelmed within me. His mercy exalts me: His justice depresseth me: His wisdom astonisheth me: His power affrights me: His glory dazzles mine eyes: and "by reason of his highness," as Job speaks, I cannot endure: But the least glimpse of Him makes me "abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes" before Him.'

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I EVER thought it my duty to preserve peace and love among my wards. And since I have set up for a universal Guardian, I have laid nothing more to heart than the differences and quarrels between the landed and the trading interests of my country, which indeed comprehend the whole. I shall always contribute, to the utmost of my power, to reconcile these interests to each other, and to make them both sensible that their mutual happiness depends upon their being friends.

lay too great a burden upon trade, though in every thing they eat, and drink, and wear, they are sure to bear the greatest part themselves.

I shall endeavour as much as possible, to remove this emulation between the parties, and in the first place to convince the traders, that in many instances high duties may be laid upon their imports, to enlarge the general trade of the kingdom. For example, if there should be laid a prohibition, or high duties which shall amount to a prohibition, upon the imports from any other country which takes from us a million sterling every year, and returns us nothing else but manufactures for the consumption of our own people, it is certain this ought to be considered as the increase of our trade in general; for if we want these manufactures, we shall either make them ourselves, or, which is the same thing, import them from other countries in exchange for our own. In either of which cases, our foreign 'or inland trade is enlarged, and so many more of our own people are employed and subsisted for that money which was annually exported, that is, in all probability, a hundred and fifty thousand of our people, for the yearly sum of one million. If our traders would consider many of our prohibitions or high duties in this light, they would think their country and themselves obliged to the landed interest for these restraints.

Again, gentlemen are too apt to envy the traders every sum of money they import, and gain from abroad, as if it was so much loss to themselves; but if they could be convinced, that for every million that shall be imported and gained by the traders, more than twice that sum is gained by the landed interest, they would never be averse to the trading part of the nation. To convince them, therefore, that this is the fact, shall be the remaining part of this dis

course.

Let us suppose then, that a million, or if you please, that twenty millions were to be imported and gained by trade: to what uses could it be applied, and which would be the greatest gainers, the landed or the trading interest? Suppose it to be twenty millions.

It cannot at all be doubted, that a part of the afore-mentioned sum would be laid out in luxury, such as the magnificence of buildings, the plate and furniture of houses, jewels, and rich apparel, the elegance of diet, the splendour of coaches and equipage, and such other things as are an expense to the owners, and bring in no manner of profit. But because it is seldom seen, that persons who by great industry have gained estates, are extravagant in their luxury; and because the revenue must be still sufficient to support the annual expense, it is hard to

lions can be converted into this dead stock, at least eighteen must still be left to raise an annual interest to the owners; and the revenue from the eighteen millions, at six per centum, will be little more than one million per annum.

They mutually furnish each other with all the necessaries and conveniences of life; the land supplies the traders with corn, cattle, wool, and generally all the materials, either for their sub-conceive that more than two of the twenty milsistence or their riches; the traders in return provide the gentlemen with houses, clothes, and many other things, without which their life at best would be uncomfortable. Yet these very interests are almost always clashing; the traders consider every high duty upon any part of their trade as proceeding from jealousy in the gentlemen of their rivalling them too fast; and they are often enemies on this account. The gentlemen, on the other hand, think they can never

Again, a part of the twenty millions is very likely to be converted to increase the stock of our inland trade, in which is comprehended that upon all our farms. This is the trade which

provides for the annual consumption of our peo- | persons who have no other ways to repay the ple, and a stock of the value of two years' con- value than by part of the things themselves. sumption is generally believed to be sufficient The question then is, what effect these twelve for this purpose. If the eighteen millions millions will have towards reducing the interest above-mentioned will not raise a revenue of of money, or raising the value of estates; for as more than one million per annum, it is certain the former grows less, the latter will ever rise that no more than this last value can be added in proportion. For example, while the interest to our annual consumption, and that two of the of money is five per cent. per annum, a man twenty millions will be sufficient to add to the lends two thousand pounds to raise a revenue of stock of our inland trade. one hundred pounds per annum, by the interest of his money; and for the same reason he gives two thousand pounds or more, to purchase an estate of one hundred pounds per annum. Again, if the interest of money shall fall one per cent. he must be forced to lend two thousand four hundred pounds to gain the revenue of one hundred pounds per annum, and for the same reason he must give at least two thousand four hundred pounds to purchase an estate of the same yearly rent. Therefore if these twelve millions newly gained shall reduce one per cent. of the present interest of money, they must of necessity increase every estate at least four years' value in the purchase.

Our foreign trade is considered upon another foot; for though it provides in part for the annual consumption of our own people, it provides also for the consumption of foreign nations. It exports our superfluous manufactures, and should make returns of bullion, or other durable treasure. Our foreign trade for forty years last past, in the judgment of the most intelligent persons, has been managed by a stock not less than four, and not exceeding eight millions, with which last sum they think it is driven at this time, and that it cannot be carried much farther, unless our merchants shall endeavour to open a trade to 'Terra Australis incognita,' or some place that would be equivalent. It will therefore be a very large allowance, that one of the twenty millions can be added to the capital stock of our foreign trade.

There may be another way of raising interest, that is, by laying up, at a cheap time, corn, or other goods or manufactures that will keep, for the consumption of future years, and when the markets may happen to call for them at an advanced price. But as most goods are perishable, and waste something every year, by which means a part of the principle is still lost, and as it is seldom seen that these engrossers get more than their principal, and the common interest of their money, this way is so precarious and full of hazard, that it is very unlikely any more than three of the twenty millions will be applied to engrossing. It were to be wished the engrossers were more profitable traders for themselves; they are certainly very beneficial for the commonwealth; they are a market for the rich in a time of plenty, and ready at hand with relief for the poor in a time of dearth. They prevent the exportation of many necessaries of life, when they are very cheap; so that we are not at the charge of bringing them back again, when they are very dear. They save the money that is paid to foreign countries for interest and warehouse room; but there is so much hazard, and so little profit in this business, that if twenty millions were to be imported, scarce three of them would be applied to the making magazines for the kingdom.

If any of the money should be lent at interest to persons that shall apply the same to any of the purposes above-mentioned, it is still the same thing. If I have given good reasons for what I have said, no more than eight of the twenty millions can be applied either to our dead stock of luxury, our stock in inland or foreign trade, or our stores or magazines. So that still there will remain twelve millions, which are now no otherwise to be disposed of than in buying of lands or houses, or our new parliamentary funds, or in being lent out at interest upon mortgages of those securities, or to

It is ever easier to meet with men that will borrow money than sell their estates. An evidence of this is, that we never have so good a revenue by buying, as by lending. The first thing therefore that will be attempted with these twelve millions, is to lend money to those that want it. This can hardly fail of reducing one per cent. of the present interest of money, and consequently of raising every estate four years' value in the purchase.

For in all probability all the money or value now in England, not applied to any of the uses above-mentioned, and which therefore lies dead or affords no revenue to the owners, until it can be disposed of to such uses, does not exceed twelve millions; yet this sum, whatever it is, is sufficient to keep down money to the present interest, and to hold up lands to their present value. One would imagine then, if this sum should be doubled, if twelve millions extraordinary should be added to it, they should reduce half the present interest of money, and double the present value of estates. But it will easily be allowed they must reduce one per cent. of the present interest of money, and add the value of four years' rent to the purchase of every estate.

To confirm the belief of this, an argument might be taken from what really happened in the province of Holland before the year one thousand six hundred and seventy. I think it is in sir William Temple's Observations upon the United Netherlands. The government there was indebted about thirteen millions, and paid the interest of five per cent. per annum. They had got a sum of money, I think not above a million, with which they prepared to discharge such a part of the principal. The creditors were so unable to find so good an interest else. where, that they petitioned the States to keep their money, with an abatement of one per cent. of their interest. The same money was offered to the same number of other creditors with the same success, until one per cent. of their whole interest was abated, yet at last such a part of the principal was discharged. And when this

sum came to be lent to private persons, it had | observation with regard to each of them: And the same effect; there one per cent. of the com- first of the critic. mon interest was abated throughout the whole province, as well between subject and subject, as between the subjects and their governors. And nothing is so notorious, as that the value of lands in that country has risen in proportion, and that estates are sold there for thirty years' value of their whole rents. It is not then to be doubted that twelve millions extraordinary to be lent at interest, or purchase lands, or government securities, must have the like effect in England, at least that lands will rise four years' rent in every purchase above their present | value. And how great an improvement must this be of the landed interest?

The rents of England, according to the proportion of the land-tax, should be little more than eight millions, yet perhaps they may be twelve. If there is made an addition of four years' value in every purchase, this, upon all the rents of England, amounts to forty-eight millions. So that, by the importation and clear gain of twenty millions by trade, the landed in. terest gains an improvement of forty-eight millions, at least six times as much as all other interests joined together.

I should think this argument, which I have endeavoured to set in a clear light, must needs be sufficient to show, that the landed and the trading interests cannot in reality but be friends to each other.

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THE writers of morality assign two sorts of goods, the one is in itself desirable, the other is to be desired, not on account of its own excellency, but for the sake of some other thing which it is instrumental to obtain. These e usually distinguished by the appellations of ley and means. We are prompted by nature desire the former, but that we have any appetite for the latter is owing to choice and deliberation.

But as wise men engage in the pursuit of means, from a farther view of some natural good with which they are connected; fools, who are actuated by imitation and not by reason, blindly pursue the means, without any design or prospect of applying them. The result whereof is, that they entail upon themselves the anxiety and toil, but are debarred from the subsequent delights which arise to wiser men; since their views not reaching the end, terminate in those things, which although they have a relative goodness, yet, considered absolutely, are indifferent, or, it may be, evil.

The principle of this misconduct is a certain shortsightedness in the mind: and as this defect is branched forth into innumerable errors in life, and hath infected all ranks and conditions of men; so it more eminently appears in three species, the critics, misers, and freethinkers. I shall endeavour to make good this

Profit and pleasure are the ends that a reasonable creature would propose to obtain by study, or indeed by any other undertaking. Those parts of learning which relate to the imagination, as eloquence and poetry, produce an immediate pleasure in the mind. And sublime and useful truths, when they are conveyed in apt allegories or beautiful images, make more distinct and lasting impressions; by which means the fancy becomes subservient to the understanding, and the mind is at the same time delighted and instructed. The exercise of the understanding in the discovery of truth, is likewise attended with great pleasure, as well as immediate profit. It not only strengthens our faculties, purifies the soul, subdues the passions; but besides these advantages, there is also a secret joy that flows from intellectual operations, proportioned to the nobleness of the faculty, and not the less affecting because inward and unseen.

But the mere exercise of the memory as such, instead of bringing pleasure or immediate benefit, is a thing of vain irksomeness and fatigue, especially when employed in the acquisition of languages, which is of all others the most dry and painful occupation. There must be therefore something further proposed, or a wise man would never engage in it. And, indeed, the very reason of the thing plainly intimates that the motive which first drew men to affect a knowledge in dead tongues, was that they looked on them as means to convey more useful and entertaining knowledge into their minds.

There are, nevertheless, certain critics, who, seeing that Greek and Latin are in request, join in a thoughtless pursuit of those languages, without any further view. They look on the ancient authors, but it is with an eye to phraseology, or certain minute particulars which are valuable for no other reason but because they are despised and forgotten by the rest of manind. The divine maxims of morality, the exact pictures of human life, the profound discoveries in the arts and sciences, just thoughts, bright images, sublime sentiments, are overlooked, while the mind is learnedly taken up in verbal remarks.

Was a critic ever known to read Plato with a contemplative mind, or Cicero, in order to imbibe the noble sentiments of virtue and a public spirit, which are conspicuous in the writings of that great man; or to peruse the Greek or Roman historians, with an intention to form his own life upon the plan of the illustrious patterns they exhibit to our view? Plato wrote in Greek. Cicero's Latin is fine. And it often lies in a man's way to quote the ancient historians.

There is no entertainment upon earth more noble and befitting a reasonable mind, than the perusal of good authors; or that better qualifies a man to pass his life with satisfaction to himself, or advantage to the public. But where men of short views and mean souls give themselves to that sort of employment which nature never designed them for, they indeed keep one another in countenance; but instead of culti

larder.

vating and adorning their own minds, or ac- | ladies learned in economics, dictate to their quiring an ability to be useful to the world, they pupils for the improvement of the kitchen and reap no other advantage from their labours, than the dry consolation arising from the applauses they bestow upon each other.

And the same weakness, or defect of the mind from whence pedantry takes its rise, does likewise give birth to avarice. Words and money are both to be regarded as only marks of things; and as the knowledge of the one, so the possession of the other is of no use, unless directed to a further end. A mutual commerce could not be carried on among men, if some common standard had not been agreed upon, to which the value of all the various products of art and nature were reducible, and which might be of the same use in the conveyance of property, as words are in that of ideas. Gold, by its beauty, scarceness, and durable nature, seems designed by Providence to a purpose so excellent and advantageous to mankind. Upon these considerations that metal came first into esteem. But such who cannot see beyond what is nearest in the pursuit, beholding mankind touched with an affection for old, and being ignorant of the true reason that introduced this odd passion into human nature, imagine some intrinsic worth in the metal to be the cause of it. Hence, the same men who, had they been turned towards learning, would have employed themselves in laying up words in their memory, are, by a different application employed to as much purpose, in treasuring up gold in their coffers. They differ only in the object; the principle on which they act, and the inward frame of mind, is the same in the critic and the miser.

And upon a thorough observation, our modern sect of free-thinkers will be found to labour under the same defect with those two inglorious species. Their short views are terminated in the next objects, and their specious pretences for liberty and truth, are so many instances of mistaking the means for the end. But the setting these points in a clear light, must be the subject of another paper.

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It is no small pleasure to me, who am zealous in the interests of learning, to think I may have the honour of leading the town into a very new and uncommon road of criticism. As that kind of literature is at present carried on, it consists only in a knowledge of mechanic rules which contribute to the structure of different sorts of poetry; as the receipts of good housewives do to the making puddings of flour, oranges, plums, or any other ingredients. It would, methinks, make these my instructions more easily intelligible to ordinary readers, if I discoursed of these matters in the style in which

I shall begin with epic poetry, because the critics agree it is the greatest work human na. ture is capable of. I know the French have already laid down many mechanical rules for compositions of this sort, but at the same time they cut off almost all undertakers from the pos sibility of ever performing them; for the first qualification they unanimously require in a poet, is a genius. I shall here endeavour (for the benefit of my countrymen) to make it manifest, that epic poems may be made without a genius,' nay, without learning, or much reading. This must necessarily be of great use to all those poets who confess they never read, and of whom the world is convinced they never learn. What Moliere observes of making a dinner, that any man can do it with money, and if a professed cook cannot without, he has his art for nothing; the same may be said of making a poem, it is easily brought about by him that has a genius, but the skill lies in doing it without one. pursuance of this end, I shall present the reader with a plain and certain recipe, by which even sonnetteers and ladies may be qualified for this grand performance.

In

I know it will be objected, that one of the chief qualifications of an epic poet, is to be knowing in all arts and sciences. But this ought not to discourage those that have no learning, as long as indexes and dictionaries may be had, which are the compendium of all knowledge. Besides, since it is an established rule, that none of the terms of those arts and sciences are to be made use of, one may venture to affirm, our poet cannot impertinently offend in this point. The learning which will be more particularly necessary to him, is the ancient geography of towns, mountains, and rivers : for this let him take Cluverius, value four-pence.

Another quality required is a complete skill in languages. To this I answer, that it is notorinus persons of no genius have been often

f great linguists. To instance in the Greek, of which there are two sorts; the original Greek, and that from which our modern authors translate. I should be unwilling to promise impossibilities, but modestly speaking, this may be learned in about an hour's time with ease. I have known one, who became a sudden professor of Greek, immediately upon application of the left-hand page of the Cambridge Homer to his eye. It is in these days with authors as with other men, the well-bred are familiarly acquainted with them at first sight; and as it is sufficient for a good general to have surveyed the ground he is to conquer, so it is enough for a good poet to have seen the author he is to be master of. But to proceed to the purpose of this paper.

A Receipt to make an Epic Poem.

FOR THE FABLE.

'Take out of any old poem, history, book, ro mance, or legend, (for instance, Geoffry of Monmouth, or don Belianis of Greece) those parts of story which afford most scope for long

descriptions. Put these pieces together, and throw all the adventures you fancy into one tale. Then take a hero whom you may choose for the sound of his name, and put him into the midst of these adventures. There let him work for twelve books; at the end of which you may take him out ready prepared to conquer, or to marry; it being necessary that the conclusion of an epic poem be fortunate."

To make an Episode. Take any remaining adventure of your former collection, in which you could no way involve your hero; or any unfortunate accident that was too good to be thrown away; and it will be of use applied to any other person, who may be lost and evaporate in the course of the work, without the least damage to the composition.'

For the Moral and Allegory. These you may extract out of the fable afterwards, at your leisure. Be sure you strain them sufficiently.'

FOR THE MANNERS.

For those of the hero, take all the best qualities you can find in all the celebrated heroes of antiquity; if they will not be reduced to a consistency, lay them all on a heap upon him. But be sure they are qualities which your patron would be thought to have: and, to prevent any mistake which the world may be subject to, select from the alphabet those capital letters that compose his name, and set them at the head of a dedication before your poem. However, do not absolutely observe the exact quantity of these virtues, it not being determined, whether or no it be necessary for the hero of a poem to be an honest man. For the under characters, gather them from Homer and Virgil, and change the names as occasion serves."

FOR THE MACHINES

'Take of deities, male and female, as many as you can use. Separate them into two equal parts, and keep Jupiter in the middle. Let Juno put him in a ferment, and Venus mollify

him. Remember on all occasions to make use

of volatile Mercury. If you have need of devils, draw them out of Milton's Paradise, and extract your spirits from Tasso. The use of these machines is evident; for since no epic poem can possibly subsist without them, the wisest way is to reserve them for your greatest necessities. When you cannot extricate your hero by any human means, or yourself by your own wits, seek relief from heaven, and the gods will do your business very readily. This is according to the direct prescription of Horace in his Art of Poetry:

Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice Nodus
Inciderit-
ver. 191.

Never presume to make a god appear, But for a business worthy of a god. Roscommon. That is to say, a poet should never call upon the gods for their assistance, but when he is in great perplexity.'

FOR THE DESCRIPTIONS.

For a Tempest.-'Take Eurus, Zephyr, Auster, and Boreas, and cast them together in one

verse. Add to these of rain, lightning, and of thunder (the loudest you can) quantum sufficit. Mix your clouds and billows well together until they foam, and thicken your description here and there with a quicksand. Brew your tempest well in your head, before you set it a blowing

For a Battle. Pick a large quantity of images and descriptions from Homer's Iliads, with a spice or two of Virgil, and if there remain any overplus you may lay them by for a skirmish. Season it well with similes, and it will make an excellent battle.'

For burning a Town. If such a description be necessary, because it is certain there is one in Virgil, old Troy is ready burnt to your hands. But if you fear that would be thought borrowed, a chapter or two of the Theory of the Conflagration, well circumstanced, and done into verse, will be a good succedaneum.'

As for Similes and Metaphors, they may be found all over the creation; the most ignorant may gather them, but the danger is in applying them. For this advise with your bookseller.

FOR THE LANGUAGE.

(I mean the diction.) Here it will do well to be an imitator of Milton, for you will find it easier to imitate him in this, than any thing else. Hebraisms and Grecisms are to be found in him, without the trouble of learning the languages. I knew a painter, who (like our poet) had no genius, make his daubings to be thought originals by setting them in the smoke. You may in the same manner give the venerable air of antiquity to your piece, by darkening it up and down with old English. With this you may be easily furnished upon any occasion, by the dictionary commonly printed at the end of Chaucer.'

writers without genius in one material point, I must not conclude, without cautioning all which is, never to be afraid of having too much take their warmest thoughts, and spread them fire in their works. I should advise rather to abroad upon paper; for they are observed to cool before they are read.

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Hor Lib. 1. Ep. viii. 3.

I make a noise, a gaudy show,

I promise mighty things, I nobly strive;
Yet what an ill, unpleasant life I live! Creech.

It is an employment worthy a reasonable creature, to examine into the disposition of men's affections towards each other, and as far as one can, to improve all tendencies to good nature and charity. No one could be unmoved with this epistle, which I received the other day from one of my correspondents, and which is full of the most ardent benevolence.

To the Guardian.

SIR,-I seldom read your political, your cri tical, your ludicrous, or if you will call them so,

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