does us too much honour. My compliments to your master, child, the gentleman fhall be provided with a bed. Ay, but where? rejoined the hoftefs: there was but one left, and a merchant from Lower-Maine bespoke it not half an hour fince.

Thefe words were fcarce out of her mouth, when the merchant came in, who hearing the accafion of their difpute, offered Rancour a fhare of his bed: which the ftroller, with fome faint expreffions of gratitude, accepted. The merchant having called for fupper, the landlord, as ufual, kept him company; and Rancour, without much entreaty, putting in for a third, began to drink upon a new score. Their converfation turned moftly upon politics, taxes, and the national debt; they damned monopolies, drank confufion to excifemen, fettled the miniftry, and unfettled their own brains fo much, especially the innkeeper, that forgetting he was at home, he lugged out his purfe and called for the reckoning; when his wife knowing his failing, and perceiving that he was already far gone, pulled him by the fhoulder, with the affiftance of the maid, into his chamber, and laid him upon the bed with his cloaths on. Rancour being left alone with the merchant, told him that he was troubled with a ftrangury, and would be very forry, if he should incommode him; O! not in the leaft, replied the merchant, who was of an obliging benevolent difpofition: in any event, a night will foon be over.

It will be proper to observe that the bed was fo placed as to be close to the wall; Rancour went into it first, and the merchant going after him lay at the ftock, which was confidered as the place of honour. Upon laying down, Rancour asked his companion for the chamber pot. What to do? faid the merchant. Why to put it by me, to avoid being troublesome to you, replied Rancour. No trouble in the leaft, returned the other; I fhall give it you, whenever you have occafion for it. To this kind offer Rancour feemed unwilling to confent, protefting he should be extremely forry to trouble him. The merchant fell asleep without returning any anfwer; and was just beginning to enjoy the fweets of repofe, when the malicious ftroller, whose love of mischief would not fuffer him to rest, pulled him by the arm, crying, fir, fir. What's the mattér, faid the merchant, haftily, gaping and ftretching himself. Pray reach me the chamber-pot, quoth Rancour. That I will, faid the other at the fame time leaning over the bed, he took up the urinal, and gave it to Rancour; who, after seeming to use all his endeavours, muttering a thousand oaths to himself, and making bitter complaints of his diftemper, returned it to the merchant, without making a fingle drop of water. The benevolent trader fet it on the ground again, and opening his mouth as wide as an oven, Truly, fir, faid he to Rancour, I-I pity you, and fell asleep prefently. The ftroller fuf

fered

fered him to indulge his drowfinefs, till he fnored as loud as the bafe-pipe of an organ, when waking him a fecond time, he renewed his complaints, and asked him for the chamber-pot with as much malice as he had done before. The merchant, pitying his diftrefs, delivered it into his hands with his ufual kindness; when Rancour putting himself in a piffing pofture, cried out ftill louder than before, and was twice as long endeavouring, in vain, to make water. At length, after feeming to use his utmost efforts to no purpose, he defired the merchant not to give himself the trouble to reach the chamber-pot any more, for that he would for the future reach it himself. Juft as you please, answered the honeft trader, yawning; methinks you have a forry time on't, I wish you relief with all my heart. I am very much obliged to you, returned the stroller, groaning, as if he was in an agony of pain; you had better compose yourfelf for reft. So I fhall, faid the other, who, in fact, would have given half he was worth for a hearty nap; and in a few minutes he was faft asleep.

Short-liv'd, however, was his tranquillity, for his malicious companion perceiving by that faithful alarum, his nofe, that the merchant was got into a profound fleep, he laid his elbow on the pit of his ftomach, and, ftrething forth the other arm, as if he would take up fomething from the ground, crushed him down with the whole weight of his body. Zounds, fir, what do you mean? the unfortunate trader exclaimed in a most hideous manner, starting out of his fleep, you have almost ftifled me. I ask your pardon, returned Rancour with a tone as foft and gentle, as that of the merchant was loud and vehement-I hope you are not hurt-I only meant to take up the chamber-pot-Not hurt! cried the other, I believe I am deftroyed. Damn it, could not you have asked me for the pot, I had much rather have given it to you, and not fleep all the night long, you have fo crushed me. Rancour made no anfwer, but fell a piffing fo plentifully, and with fuch force, that the very noife had been fufficient to wake the merchant. In fine, he filled the pot, and then returned heaven thanks, with a villainous hypocrify. The merchant, hoping his fleep would no more be interrupted, wished him joy on his plentiful dif charge of urine, and was going to compofe himself again for reft, when Rancour, making as if he would fet the chamberpot on the ground, let fall both the pot and its contents on the merchant's face, beard and breaft, excufing himself with, Dear fir, I beg your pardon; upon my foul it flipt out of my hand. The merchant, without returning an answer, leap'd out of bed, roaring like a mad man, and calling for a candle, while Rancour, who, fecretly enjoyed his diftreis, failed not to exprefs the deepest concern at what had happened. Mean time the merchant raised the whole houfe with his continual roaring; and the landlord, his wife, maids, and fervants being come to know

know what the matter was; The matter! quoth he, you have put me to bed with the devil, I think-I have had fuch a night of it-Come, let me have a fire lighted in another room, for I'll flay no longer here. The company begged him to be more particular; but he was in fuch a paflion, that, without gratifying their request, he took his cloaths in a fury, and went down to the kitchen to dry himself, where he lay all night stretched on a bench by the fire-fide.'

As the third part of the Comic Romance was written after the death of Scarron, by a perfon of inferior genius, the tranflator has taken great liberties with it, both in curtailing and altering the narrative. To deliver our opinion with candour, this version is executed in that stile of mediocrity, which deferves not, in any confiderable degree, either the approbation or cenfure of criticifm.

XIII. Obfervations on the Night Thoughts of Dr. Young; with Occafional Remarks on the Beauties of Poetical Compofition. By Courtney Melmoth. 8vo. 35. 6d. boards. Richardfon and Urquhart.

THE

"HESE obfervations are comprised in a series of fourteen letters, fuppofed to be written to a young man of genius, named Archibald, with the view of improving his judgment in poetical criticifm. It is but juftice to acknowledge that they contain feveral pertinent remarks, and that the author analyfes fome parts of the Night Thoughts with commendable. precision and acuteness. The firft letter in the collection may ferve as a fpecimen,

My dear Archibald,

The rapid progress you are making in claffical knowledge, and the very early tafte you difcover for polite fcience, induced me, both as your friend and relation (now, that you are well read, in what are called the learned languages) to recommend to your notice fome of our celebrated Englishmen. I have already tranfmitted to you the works of fome, particularly those of Milton, Spencer, Shakespear, and Pope; and have taken care to purchase fuch editions as were the likely the better to illuftrate, and the more endear them to you. I have occafionally accompanied them with a few hints of my own: and have the pleasure to find you ingeniously improve upon me. I am now fitting down to a new tafk, from which, if you derive proportionate inftruction, my reward will be to the very top of my wifhes, for indeed Archibald, I am warmly interested in your welfare; and from the cultivation of talents, which, in a few years cannot fail, but by your own fault, to figure, I have the greatest hope. Without more exordium, I am this moment

pen

with The Night Thoughts in my left hand, and I hold the in my right, with a refolution to point out the most striking beauties and defects, in that celebrated poem. Nor can I help expreffing furprize, as (to ufe his own words) I enter the "Temple of my theme," that, in this age of criticism and commentary, fo remarkable a work hath efcaped annotation. The more especially, as no compofition can be more favourable to literary fcrutiny; nor any, boaft a greater number of readers. Many indeed read who do not admire it; and perhaps, more affect to admire, who little understand it. There are few (indeed I know not any production) more unequally written nor is there, probably, in the world of letters, a greater mixture of bad and of good. There are fome, who fpeak of this work with enthusiasm; others, deem it beneath observation. From thefe vague extremes, however, let us, my dear Archibald, defcend fairly into particulars, and, depend upon it, we shall find much to displease, and much to delight: nor can we fail to be agreeably paid, upon the whole, for reading him with an occafional note of illuftration.

First, a word or two of our author, in general.

The genius of Young was ftrongly, and originally marked. You will be able to discover little or no fimplicity, either in his profe or poetry; yet both have uncommon energy, as to language, and vaft reach, as to conception. There is indeed, more appearance of labour in him than in Thomfon; and the reader is frequently tempted to exclaim, bic labor hoc opus eft: but in real truth, this is nature, and not affectation. I dare fay, he could no more have equalled the Paftorals of Shenftone, than Shenftone could have equalled the Ethics of Night Thoughts. I have fometimes imagined it poffible to trace a resemblance, between Dr. Young's Poetry, and Dr. Johnfon's profe, I mean as to the characteristic of each; the fame folid, ferious, and forcible manner of expreffing, reflections, equally pious and poetical, (for the profe of the Rambler is unmeafured poetry) diftinguish both. There is a nerve in their writings, which gives them in ftrength, what they may be thought to require in harmony and if the one appears deftitute of the ease of Addifon, or the other of the fmoothness of Pope, there are not wanting many, who think this deficiency compenfated by fuperior power. I, however, am biaffed neither by partiality nor prejudice-He was indeed a favourite author from my childhood: I ftill think him, by parts, an ornament to this country; and I will do my beft, that you may diftinguish, in what he excelled, and in what he failed; for there, perhaps, never was a writer, whofe reputation fuffered more by confidering him in the grofs, and few who may boaft a more fplendid character by felection of particular paffages. I invite the favour then of your attention on this occafion, and with this first letter fend you the poem itself, in a pocket volume, begging you to turn to VOL XL. Jan. 1776. every

:

F

every reference, and give me, from time to time, your opinion of my comments. I am, &c.

Befides commenting on particular paffages, Mr. Melmoth, has fometimes introduced general obfervations on compofition, which, though not entirely new, yet are worthy of being inculcated to one who is ftudious of literary accomplishThe beginning of the fixth letter affords an inftance

ments.

of this kind.

I am pleafed with your difcernment. There is, indeed, as you obferve, an appearance of fingularity and affectation in Sterne, but it is only an appearance. So we are apt to imagine of Young. All affectation is to be diftinguifhed by comparing parts with the whole. If the tenor of an author's file be throughout the fame; if through a variety of volumes, you trace a fimilar mode of reafoning, and a fimilar construction of language, depend upon it, that it is not affectation. On the other hand, if a writer in purfuit of his fubject, forgets in the fecond part the defign projected in the firft; if he starts excentrically from an eafy, natural ftile, to a conceited, flippant, fhewy manner of expreffion; if one part of a compofition is distinguished for its fublimity, and another for its meanness, that, poffibly may be affectation. Now Sterne, (as you will take notice when you come to be more intimate with him) is a very uniform writer, both in refpect of thinking, and expreffion of thought fo is Dr. Young. The firft, now and then deviated into trifling, and the latter fometimes.degenerated into bombast or obfcurity, but fill, it was in both, the error of nature, and not of art. Neither knew the fault at the time of compofing, nor even at the period of polishing; for had this been the cafe, they would certainly have corrected, at least in a fecond edition. the mistakes of a first. But the ardour of a great genius, which is generally, if not conftantly, accompanied with a glowing fancy, often hurries a man into abfurdities; and fuch is a writer's partiality for the offspring of his own imagination, that even in reviewing them at a cooler moment, like over fond patents, judgment either cannot, or must not fee clear enough to correct. The millake, however, was undoubtedly at firit nature's-But you, my Archibald, may gather from your obfervation, a point of the utmost importance in literature: it is, that correctness is-I had almost said, of as much importance as genius, and that, what is written warmly and haftily, should be reviewed, coolly and deliberately. Perhaps Mr. Pope owes half, or more than half his reputation, to a zealous adherence to this rule. As to fingularity, it is at all times better than fameness; I mean, it is better to write like an original, than a copier. Every good writer is poffeft of fome mark of excellence peculiar to himfeif; and I am afraid that (fuch is the debility of the wifest mind) every good writer hath likewife a characteristic imperfection.'

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