increases, in general, from the length of our ac- | king his master, which was equivalent to richquaintance with it. "I would not choose," es. Life opened all her treasure before him, says a French philosopher, "to see an old post and promised a long succession of future happulled up with which I had been long acquaint-piness. He came, tasted of the entertainment, ed." A mind long habituated to a certain set but was disgusted even in the beginning. He of objects, insensibly becomes fond of seeing professed an aversion to living; was tired of them; visits them from habit, and parts from walking round the same circle; had tried them with reluctance; from hence proceeds every enjoyment, and found them all grow the avarice of the old in every kind of posses- weaker at every repetition. "If life be in sion. They love the world and all that it pro- youth so displeasing," cried he to himself, duces; they love life, and all its advantages; "what will it appear when age comes on; if not because it gives them pleasure, but because it be at present indifferent, sure it will then be they have known it long. execrable." This thought imbittered every reflection; till at last, with all the serenity of perverted reason, he ended the debate with a pistol; had this self-deluded man been appris the longer we exist, he would have then faced old age without shrinking, he would have boldly dared to live, and served that society by his future assiduity, which he basely injured by his desertion. Adieu. Chinvang the Chaste, ascending the throne of China, commanded that all who were unjustly detained in prison, during the preceding reigns, should be set free. Among the num-ed, that existence grows more desirable to us ber who came to thank their deliverer on this occasion, there appeared a majestic old man, who falling at the emperor's feet, addressed him as follows: "Great father of China, behold a wretch, now eighty-five years old, who was shut up in a dungeon at the age of twenty-two. I was imprisoned, though a stranger of crime, or without being even confronted by my accusers. I have now lived in solitude and darkness for more than fifty years, and am grown LETTER LXXIII. familiar with distress. As yet, dazzled with FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI, TO FUM HOAM, FIRST the splendour of that sun to which you have restored me, I have been wandering the streets to find some friend that would assist, or relieve, or remember me; but my friends, my family, and relations are all dead, and I am forgotten. Permit me then, O Chinvang, to wear out the wretched remains of life in my former prison; the walls of my dungeon are to me more pleasing than the most splendid palace; I have not long to live, and shall be unhappy except I spend the rest of my days where my youth was passed-in that prison from which you were pleased to release me.' PRESIDENT OF THE CEREMONIAL ACADEMY AT IN reading the newspapers here, I have reckoned up not less than twenty-five great men, seventeen very great men, and nine very extraordinary men, in less than the compass of half a-year. These," say the gazettes, "are the men that posterity are to gaze at with admiration; these the names that fame will be employed in holding up for the astonishment of succeeding ages." Let me see-forty-six great men in half a-year, amount just to ninetytwo in a year. I wonder how posterity will be able to remember them all, or whether the people in future times, will have any other business to mind, but that of getting the cata. logue by heart. The old man's passion for confinement is similar to that we all have for life. We are habituated to the prison, we look round with discontent, are displeased with the abode, and yet the length of our captivity only increases our fondness for the cell.' The trees we have planted, the houses we have built, or the posterity we have begotten, all serve to bind us closer to earth, and imbitter our parting. Life sues the young like a new acquaintance; the companion, as yet unexhausted, is at once instructive and amusing; its company pleases; yet, for all this, it is but little regarded. To us who are declined in years, life appears like an old friend; its jests have been anticipated in former conversation; it has no new story to make us smile; no new improvement with which to surprise; yet still we love it; destitute of every enjoyment, still we love it; hus-scious greatness by the way. band the wasting treasure with increased frugality, and feel all the poignancy of anguish in the fatal separation. Sir Philip Mordaunt was young, beautiful, sincere, brave, an Englishman. He had a complete fortune of his own, and the love of the Does the mayor of a corporation make a speech-he is instantly set down for a great man. Does a pedant digest his common-place book into a folio-he quickly becomes great. Does a poet string up trite sentiments in rhyme -he also becomes the great man of the hour. How diminutive soever the object of admiration, each is followed by a crowd of still more diminutive admirers. The shout begins in his train, onward he marches towards immortality, looks back at the pursuing crowd with self-sa tisfaction; catching all the oddities, the whimsies, the absurdities, and the littleness of con I was yesterday invited by a gentleman to dinner, who promised that our entertainment should consist of a haunch of venison, a turtle, and a great man. I came according to ap pointment. The venison was fine, the turtle good, but the great man insupportable. The moment I ventured to speak, I was at once contradicted with a snap. I attempted, by a second and a third assault, to retrieve my lost reputation, but was still beat back with confusion. I was resolved to attack him once more from intrenchment, and turned the conversation upon the government of China: but even here he asserted, snapped, and contradicted as before. Heavens," thought I, "this man pretends to know China even better than myself!" I looked round to see who was on my side; but every eye was fixed in admiration on the great man: I therefore at last thought proper to sit silent and act the pretty gentleman during the ensuing conversation. 66 When a man has once secured a circle of admirers, he may be as ridiculous here as he thinks proper; and it all passes for elevation of sentiment, or learned absence. If he transgresses the common forms of breeding, mistakes even a tea-pot for a tobacco-box, it is said that his thoughts are fixed on more important objects; to speak and to act like the rest of mankind, is to be no greater than they. There is something of oddity in the very idea of greatness; for we are seldom astonished at a thing very much resembling ourselves. When the Tartars make a Lama, their first care is to place him in a dark corner of the temple; here he is to sit half concealed from view, to regulate the motions of his hands, lips, and eyes: but, above all, he is enjoined gravity and silence. This, however, is but the prelude to his apotheosis: a set of emissaries are despatched among the people, to cry up his piety, gravity, and love of raw flesh; the people take them at their word, approach the Lama, now become an idol, with the most humble prostration; he receives their addresses without motion, commences a god, and is ever after fed by his priests with a spoon of immortality. The same receipt in this country serves to make a great man. The idol only keeps close, sends out his little emissaries to be hearty in his praise; and straight, whether statesman or author, he is set down in the list of fame, continuing to be praised while it is fashionable to praise, or while he prudently keeps his minuteness concealed from the public. I have visited many countries, and have been in cities without number, yet never did I enter a town which could not produce ten or twelve of those little great men; all fancying themselves known to the rest of the world, and complimenting each other upon their extensive reputation. It is amusing enough when two of those domestic prodigies of learning mount the stage of ceremony, and give and take praise from each other. I have been present when a German doctor, for having pronounced a panegyric upon a certain monk, was thought the most ingenious man in the world; till the monk soon after divided this reputation by returning the compliment; by which means they both marched off with universal applause. The same degree of undeserved adulation that attends our great man while living, often also follows him to the tomb. It frequently happens that one of his little admirers sits down big with the important subject, and is delivered of the history of his life and writings. This may properly be called the revolutions of a life between the fire-side and the easy-chair. In this we learn, the year in which he was born, at what an early age he gave symptoms of uncommon genius and application, together with some of his smart sayings, collected by his aunt and mother while yet but a boy. The next book introduces him to the university, where we are informed of his amazing progress in learning, his excellent skill in darning stockings, and his new invention for papering books to saves the covers. He next makes his appearance in the republic of letters, and publishes his folio. Now the colossus is reared, his works are eagerly bought up by all the purchasers of scarce books. The learned societies invite him to become a member; he disputes against some foreigner with a long Latin name, conquers in the controversy, is complimented by several authors of gravity and importance, is excessively fond of egg-sauce with his pig, becomes president of a literary club, and dies in the meridian of his glory. Happy they who thus have some little faithful attendant, who never forsakes them, but prepares to wrangle and to praise against every oppressor; at once ready to increase their pride while living, and their character when dead. For you and I, my friend, who have no humble admirer thus to attend us, we, who neither are nor never will be great men, and who do not much care whether we are great men or no, at least let us strive to be honest men, and to have common sense. Adieu. LETTER LXXIV. FROM THE SAME. THERE are numbers in this city who live by writing new books; and yet there are thousands of volumes in every large library unread and forgotten. This, upon my arrival, was one of those contradictions which I was unable to account for. "Is it possible," said I, "that there should be any demand for new books, before those already published are read? Can there be so many employed in producing a commodity with which the market is already over-stocked; and with goods also better than any of modern manufacture?" What at first view appeared an inconsistence, is a proof at once of this people's wisdom and refinement. Even allowing the works of their ancestors better written than theirs, yet those of the moderns acquire a real value, by being marked with the impression of the times. Antiquity has been in the possession of others; the present is our own: let us first therefore learn to know what belongs to ourselves, and then, if we have leisure, cast our reflections | they had fondly arrogated to themselves! How back to the reign of Shonou, who governed many Greek authors, who wrote at that period twenty thousand years before the creation of when Constantinople was the refined mistress the moon. of the empire, now rest, either not printed, or not read, in the libraries of Europe! Those who came first, while either state as yet was barbarous, carried all the reputation away. Authors, as the age refined, became more numerous, and their numbers destroyed their fame. It is but natural, therefore, for the writer, when conscious that his works will not procure him fame hereafter, to endeavour to make them turn out to his temporal interest here. The volumes of antiquity, like medals, may very well serve to amuse the curious; but the works of the moderns, like the current coin of a kingdom, are much better for immediate use : the former are often prized above their intrinsic value, and kept with care; the latter seldom pass for more than they are worth, and are often subject to the merciless hands of sweating critics and clipping compilers: the works of antiquity were ever praised, those of the moderns read the treasures of our ancestors have our esteem, and we boast the passion, those of contemporary genius engage our heart, although we blush to own it. The visits we pay the former resemble those we pay the great, the ceremony is troublesome, and yet such as we would not choose to forego; our acquaintance with modern books is like sitting with a friend, our pride is not flattered in the interview, but it gives more internal satisfaction. In proportion as society refines, new books must ever become more necessary. Savage rusticity is reclaimed by oral admonition alone; but the elegant excesses of refinement are best corrected by the still voice of studious inquiry. In a polite age, almost every person becomes a reader, and receives more instruction from the press than the pulpit. The preaching Bonze may instruct the illiterate peasant; but nothing less than the insinuating address of a fine writer can win its way to a heart already relaxed in all the effeminacy of refinement. Books are necessary to correct the vices of the polite; but those vices are ever changing, and the antidote should be changed accordingly-should still be new. Instead, therefore, of thinking the number of new publications here too great, I could wish it still greater, as they are the most useful instruments of reformation. Every country must be instructed either by writers or preachers; but as the number of readers increases, the number of hearers is proportionably diminished, the writer becomes more useful, and the preaching Bonze less necessary. Instead, therefore, of complaining that writers are overpaid, when their works procure them a bare subsistence, I should imagine it the duty of a state, not only to encourage their numbers, but their industry. A Bonze is rewarded with immense riches for instructing only a few, even of the most ignorant of the people; and sure the poor scholar should not beg his bread, who is capable of instructing a million. Of all rewards, I grant, the most pleasing to a man of real merit, is fame; but a polite age, of all times, is that in which scarcely any share of merit can acquire it. What numbers of fine 'writers in the latter empire of Rome, when refinement was carried to the highest pitch, have missed that fame and immortality which Whatever be the motives which induce men to write, whether avarice or fame, the country becomes most wise and happy, in which they most serve for instructors. The countries where sacerdotal instruction alone is permitted, remain in ignorance, superstition, and hopeless slavery. In England, where there are as many new books published as in all the rest of Europe together, a spirit of freedom and reason reigns among the people: they have been often known to act like fools, they are generally found to think like men. The only danger that attends a multiplicity of publications is, that some of them may be calculated to injure rather than benefit society. But where writers are numerous, they also serve as a check upon each other; and, perhaps, a literary inquisition is the most terrible punishment that can be conceived to a literary transgressor. But to do the English justice, there are but few offenders of this kind; their publications in general aim at mending either the heart, or improving the common weal. The dullest writer talks of virtue, and liberty, and benevolence, with esteem; tells his true story, filled with good and wholesome advice; warns against slavery, bribery, or the bite of a mad dog; and dresses up his little useful magazine of knowledge and entertainment, at least with a good intention. The dunces of France, on the other hand, who have less encouragement, are more vicious. Tender hearts, languishing eyes, Leonora in love at thirteen, ecstatic transports, stolen blisses, are the frivolous subjects of their frivolous memoirs. In England, if a bawdy blockhead thus breaks in on the community, he sets his whole fraternity in a roar; nor can he escape, even though he should fly to nobility for shelter. Thus even dunces, my friend, may make themselves useful. But there are others, whom nature has blest with talents above the rest of mankind; men capable of thinking with precision, and impressing their thought with rapidity; beings who diffuse those regards upon mankind, which others contract and settle upon themselves. These deserve every honour from that community of which they are more peculiarly the children; to such I would give my heart, since to them I am indebted for its humanity! Adieu. LETTER LXXV. strangers, lately introduced like me, all regarding her form in ecstasy. 68" Ah, what eyes! what lips! how clear her complexion! how perfect her shape!" At these FROM HINGPO TO LIEN CHI ALTANGI, BY THE exclamations, Beauty,with downcast eyes, would WAY OF MOSCOW. I STILL remain at Terki, where I have received that money which was remitted here in order to release me from captivity. My fair companion still improves in my esteem; the more I know her mind, her beauty becomes more poignant: she appears charming, even among the daughters of Circassia. endeavour to counterfeit modesty, but soon again looking round as if to confirm every spectator in his favourable sentiments: sometimes she would attempt to allure us by smiles; and at intervals would bridle back, in order to inspire us with respect as well as tenderness. We to have nothing but languishing airs, soft looks, and inclinations of the head? will the goddess only deign to satisfy our eyes?" Upon this one of the company stepped up to present her with some fruits he had gathered by the way. She received the present most sweetly smiling, and with one of the whitest hands in the world, but still not a word escaped her lips. This ceremony lasted for some time, and had so much employed our eyes, that we had forgot all this while that the goddess was silent. Yet were I to examine her beauty with the soon, however, began to perceive the defect. art of a statuary, I should find numbers here" What," said we, among each other, "are we that far surpass her; nature has not granted her all the boasted Circassian regularity of feature, and yet she greatly exceeds the fairest of the country, in the art of seizing the affections. "Whence," have I often said to myself, "this resistless magic that attends even moderate charms? though I regard the beauties of the country with admiration, every interview weakens the impression, but the form of Zelis grows upon my imagination; I never behold her without an increase of tenderness and respect. Whence this injustice of the mind, in preferring imperfect beauty to that which nature seems to have finished, with care? whence the infatuation that he whom a comet could not amaze, should be astonished at a meteor ?" When reason was thus fatigued to find an answer, my imagination pursued the subject, and this was the result. I fancied myself placed between two landscapes, this called the Region of Beauty, and that the Valley of the Graces; the one adorned with all that luxuriant nature could bestow; the fruits of various climates adorned the trees, the grove resounded with music, the gale breathed perfume, every charm that could arise from symmetry and exact distribution were here conspicuous, the whole offering a prospect of pleasure without end. The Valley of the Graces, on the other hand, seemed by no means so inviting; the streams and the groves appeared just as they usually do in frequented countries: no magnificent parterres, no concert in the grove, the rivulet was edged with weeds, and the rook joined its voice to that of the nightingale. All was simplicity and nature. The most striking objects ever first allure the traveller. I entered the Region of beauty with increased curiosity, and promised myself endless satisfaction, in being introduced to the presiding goddess. I perceived several strangers who entered with the same design; and what surprised me not a little, was to see several others hastening to leave this abode of seeming felicity. After some fatigue, I had at last the honour of being introduced to the goddess, who represented Beauty in person. She was seated on a throne, at the foot of which stood several I now found that my companions grew weary of their homage; they went off one by one, and resolving not to be left behind, offered to go in my turn, when, just at the door of the temple, I was called back by a female whose name was Pride, and who seemed displeased at the behaviour of the company "Where are you hastening ?" said she to me, with an angry air; "the goddess of Beauty is here."-"I have been to visit her, madam," replied I, "and find her more beautiful even than report had made her."-"And why then will you leave her?" added the female. "I have seen her long enough," returned I, "I have got all her features by heart. Her eyes are still the same. Her nose is a very fine one, but it is still just such a nose now as it was half an hour ago: could she throw a little more mind into her face, perhaps I should be for wishing to have more of her company."-"What signifies," replied my female," whether she has a mind or not; has she any occasion for a mind, so formed as she is by nature? If she had a common face, indeed, there might be some reason for thinking to improve it, but when features are already perfect, every alteration would but impair them. A fine face is already at the point of perfection, and a fine lady should endeavour to keep it so: the impression it would receive from thought, would but disturb its whole economy.' To this speech I gave no reply, but made the best of my way to the Valley of the Graces. Here I found all those who before had been my companions in the region of Beauty, now upon the same errand. As we entered the valley, the prospect insensibly seemed to improve; we found every thing so natural, so domestic, and pleasing, that our minds, which before were congealed in admiration, now relaxed into gaiety and good-humour. We had designed to pay our respects to the presiding goddess, but she was no where to be found. One of our companions asserted, that her temple lay to the right, another, to the left; a third insisted that it was straight before us; and a fourth, that we had left it behind. In short, we found every thing familiar and charm. ing, but could not determine where to seek for the Grace in person. 66 My very good friend," said I to the mercer, you must not pretend to instruct me in silks; I know these in particular to be no better than your mere flimsy Bungees.”—“ That may be." cried the mercer, who I afterwards found had never contradicted a man in his life; "I can. not pretend to say but they may; but I can assure you, my lady Trail has had a sack from this piece this very morning."- But friend," said I, “ though my lady has chosen a sack from it, I see no necessity that I should wear it for a nightcap."-" That may be," returned he again, "yet what becomes a pretty lady, will at any time look well on a handsome gentleman." This short compliment was thrown in so very seasonably upon my ugly face, that even though I disliked the silk, I desired him to cut me off the pattern of a nightcap. In this agreeable incertitude we passed several hours, and though very desirous of finding the goddess, by no means impatient of the delay. Every part of the valley presented some minute beauty, which, without offering itself, at once stole upon the soul, and captivated us with the charms of our retreat. Still, however, we continued to search, and might still have continued, had we not been interrupted by a voice, which, though we could not see from whence it came, addressed us in this manner: While this business was consigned to his "If you would find the goddess of Grace, seek journeymen, the master himself took down her not under one form, for she assumes a some pieces of silk still finer than any I had thousand. Ever changing under the eye of yet seen, and spreading them before me, inspection, her variety, rather than her figure," There," cries he, "there's beauty; My Lord is pleasing. In contemplating her beauty, the Snakeskin has bespoke the fellow to this for eye glides over every perfection with giddy de- the birth-night this very morning; it would look light, and capable of fixing no where, is charm- charmingly in waistcoats."-" But I don't want ed with the whole. She is now Contempla- a waistcoat," replied I.-" Not want a waisttion with solemn look, again Compassion with coat!" returned the mercer, "then I would adhumid eye; she now sparkles with joy, soon vise you to buy one; when waistcoats are every feature speaks distress; her looks at wanted, you may depend upon it they will come times invite our approach, at others repress dear. Always buy before you want, and you our presumption: the goddess cannot be pro- are sure to be well used, as they say in Cheapperly called beautiful under any one of these side." There was so much justice in his adforms, but by combining them all, she becomes vice, that I could not refuse taking it; besides, irresistibly pleasing." Adieu. the silk, which was a really good one, increased the temptation; so I gave orders for that * LETTER LXXVI. FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI, TO FUM HOAM, FIRST THE shops of London are as well furnished as those of Pekin. Those of London have a picture hung at their door; informing the passengers what they have to sell, as those at Pekin have a board to assure the buyer that they have no intention to cheat him. too. As I was waiting to have my bargains measured and cut, which, I know not how, they executed but slowly, during the interval the mercer entertained me with the modern manner of some of the nobility receiving company in their morning-gowns; "Perhaps, Sir," adds he, "you have a mind to see what kind of silk is universally worn." Without waiting for my reply, he spreads a piece before me, which might be reckoned beautiful even in China. "If the nobility," continues he, "were to know I sold this to any under a Right Honourable, I should certainly lose their custom; you see, I was this morning to buy silk for a night- my Lord, it is at once rich, tasty, and quite cap; immediately upon entering the mercer's the thing.”—“I am no Lord," interrupted I. shop, the master and his two men, with wigs I beg pardon," cried he; "but be pleased plastered with powder, appeared to ask my to remember, when you intend buying a morncommands. They were certainly the civilesting-gown, that you had an offer from me of people alive; if I but looked, they flew to the place where I cast my eye; every motion of mine sent them running round the whole shop for my satisfaction. I informed them that I wanted what was good, and they showed me not less than forty pieces, and each was better than the former, the prettiest pattern in nature, and the fitted in the world for nightcaps. * Vultus nimium lubricus aspici Hor. something worth money. Conscience, Sir, conscience is my way of dealing; you may buy a morning-gown now, or you may stay till they become dearer and less fashionable; but it is not my business to advise." In short, most Reverend Fum, he persuaded me to buy a morning-gown also, and would probably have persuaded me to have bought half the goods in his shop, if I had stayed long enough, or was furnished with sufficient money. |