mind may propofe a reward in the thoughts of having procured the ruin and mifery of another.

Shakespeare has nobly touched this vice, when he says,

Who Steals my purfe, fteals trash, 'tis fomething, nothing;

'Twas mine 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good name,

Robs me of that WHICH NOT ENRICHES HIM,

BUT MAKES ME POOR INDEED.

With all this my good Reader will doubtless agree; but much of it will probably seem too severe, when applied to the flanderer of books. But let it here be confidered, that both proceed from the fame wicked difpofition of mind, and are alike void of the excufe of temptation. Nor fhall we conclude the injury done this way to be very flight, when we confider a book as the author's offspring, and indeed as the child of his brain.

The Reader who has fuffered his Mufe to continue hitherto in a virgin state, can have but a very inadequate idea of this kind of paternal fondnefs. To fuch we may parody the tender exclamation of Macduff: Alas! Thou haft written no book. But the author whofe Mufe has brought forth, will feel the pathetic ftrain, perhaps will

accompany me with tears (especially if his darling be already no more) while I mention the uneafinefs with which the big Mufe bears about her burden, the painful labor with which the produces it, and laftly, the care, the fondness, with which the tender father nourishes his favorite, till it be brought to maturity, and produced into the world.

Nor is there any paternal fondness which seems lefs to favour of abfolute inftinct, and which may fo well be reconciled to worldly wifdom, as this. Thefe children may moft truly be called the riches of their father; and many of them have with true filial piety fed their parent in his old age; fo that not only the affection, but the interest of the author may be highly injured by those flanderers, whose poisonous breath brings his book to an untimely end.

Laftly, the flander of a book is, in truth, the flander of the author: for as no one can call another baftard, without calling the mother whore; fo neither can any one give the names of sad stuff, horrid nonfenfe, &c. to a book, without calling the author a blockhead; which tho' in a moral fense it is a preferable appellation to that of villain, is perhaps rather more injurious to his worldly intereft.

Now however ludicrous all this may appear to fome, others, I doubt not, will feel and acknowledge the truth of it; nay, may, perhaps, think

I have not treated the fubject with decent folemnity; but furely a man may speak truth with a fmiling countenance. In reality, to depreciate a book maliciously, or even wantonly, is at least a very ill-natured office; and a morose snarling critic may, I believe, be fufpected to be a bad man.

I will therefore endeavour, in the remaining part of this Chapter, to explain the marks of this character, and to fhow what criticism I here intend to obviate: for I can never be understood, unless by the very persons here meant, to infinuate, that there are no proper judges of writing, or to endeavour to exclude from the commonwealth of literature any of thofe noble critics, to whose labors the learned world are so greatly indebted. Such were Aristotle, Horace, and Longinus among the ancients, Dacier and Boffu among the French, and some perhaps among us; who have certainly been duly authorised to execute at least a judicial authority in Foro Litterario.

But without ascertaining all the proper qualifications of a critic, which I have touched on elfewhere, I think I may very boldly object to the cenfures of any one past upon works which he has not himself read. Such cenfures as thefe, whether they speak from their own guefs or fufpicion, or from the report and opinion of others, may properly be faid to flander the reputation of the book they condemn.

Such may likewise be suspected of deferving this character, who, without affigning any particular faults, condemn the whole in general defamatory terms; fuch as vile, dull, da―d ftuff, &c. and particularly by the use of the monofyllable LOW; a word which becomes the mouth of no CRITIC who is not RIGHT HONORABLE.

8

Again, tho' there may be fome faults juftly affigned in the work; yet if those are not in the most effential parts, or, if they are compensated by greater beauties, it will favour rather of the malice of a flanderer, than of the judgment of a true critic, to pass a fevere fentence upon the whole, merely on account of fome vicious part. This is directly contrary to the fentiments of Horace.

Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendor maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura

But where the beauties, more in number, shine,
I am not angry, when a cafual line
(That with fome trivial faults unequal flows)
A careless hand, or human frailty shows.
Mr. FRANCIS.

For, as Martial fays, Aliter non fit, Avite, liber. No book can be otherwise compofed. All beauty of character, as well as of countenance, and indeed of every thing human, is to be tried in this manner. Cruel

indeed would it be, if fuch a Work as this History, which has employed fome thousands of hours in the compofing, fhould be liable to be condemned, because fome particular Chapter, or perhaps Chapters, may be obnoxious to very just and fenfible objections. And yet nothing is more common than the most rigorous fentence upon books fupported by fuch objections, which if they were rightly taken (and that they are not always) do by no means go to the merit of the whole. In the theatre especially, a fingle expreffion, which does not coincide with the tafte, of the audience, or with any individual critic of that audience, is fure to be hiffed; and one scene, which should be disapproved, would hazard the whole piece. To write

within fuch fevere rules as thefe, is as impoffible as to live up to fome fplenetic opinions; and if we judge according to the fentiments of fome critics, and of some Christians, no author will be faved in this world, and no man in the next.

CHA P. I I.

The Adventures which Sophia met with, after her leaving Upton.

O

UR History just before it was obliged to turn about and travel backwards, had mentioned the departure of Sophia and her maid from the inn; we fhall now therefore pursue the steps of that lovely creature, and leave her unworthy lover a little longer to bemoan his ill luck, or rather his ill conduct.