Farewell, dear Caroline, I love you better than I thought f

could love a philofopher.

Your ever affectionate

JULIA.

A

CAROLINE's ANSWER TO JULIA.

T the hazard of ceafing to be "charming," "interefting, "captivating," I muft, dear Julia, venture to reafon with you, to examine your favourite doctrine of "amiable defects," and if poffible to diffipate that unjust dread of perfection which you feem to have continually before your eyes.

It is the fole object of a woman's life, you fay, to please. Her amiable defects please more than her nobleft virtues, her follies more than her wisdom, her caprice more than her temper, and fomething, a nameless fomething, which no art can imitate and no fcience can teach, more than all.

Art, you fay, fpoils the graces and corrupts the heart of woman; and at best can produce only a cold model of perfection; which, though perhaps ftrictly conformable to rule, can never touch the foul, or please the unprejudiced taste, like one fimple ftroke of genuine nature.

I have often obferved, dear Julia, that an inaccurate ufe of words produces fuch a ftrange confufion in all reasoning, that in the heat of debate, the combatants, unable to distinguish their friends from their foes, fall promiscuously on both. A skilful difputant knows well how to take advantage of this confufion, and sometimes endeavours to create it. I don't know whether L am to fufpect you of fuch a defign; but I must guard against it.

You have with great address availed yourself of the two ideas connected with the word art; firft as oppofed to fimplicity it implies artifice, and next as opposed to ignorance, it comprehends all the improvements of fcience, which, leading us to fearch for general caufes, rewards us with a dominion over their dependant effects. That which inftructs how to purfue the objects which we may have in view, with the greatest probability of fuccefs. All men who act from general principles are fo far philofophers. Their objects may be, when attained, infufficient to their hap pinefs, or they may not previously have known all the neceffary means to obtain them. But they must not therefore complain, if they do not meet with fuccefs, which they have no reason to expect.

Parrhafius, in collecting the most admired excellencies from various models, to produce perfection, concluded from general principles that mankind would be pleafed again with what had once excited their admiration.-So far he was a philofopher.But he was difappointed of fuccefs-Yes, for he was ignorant of the caufe neceffary to produce it. The feparate features might

be perfect, but they were unfuited to each other, and in their forced union he could not give to the whole countenance, fymmetry, and an appropriate expreffion.

There was, as you fay, a fomething wanting, which his fcience had not taught him. He fhould then have fet himself to examine what that something was, and how it was to be obtained. His want of fuccefs arose from the infufficiency, not the fallacy of theo

ry.

Your object, dear Julia, we will fuppofe is "to please." If general obfervation and experience have taught you that flight accomplishments, and a trivial character, fucceed more certainly in obtaining this end, than higher worth, and fenfe, you act from principle in rejecting the one and aiming at the other. You have discovered, or think you have discovered, the fecret caufes which produce the defired effect, and you employ them. Do not call this inftinct or nature; this alfo, though you scorn it, is philosophy.

But when you come foberly to reflect, you have a feeling in your mind that reafon and cool judgment difapprove of the part you are acting.

Let us, however, distinguish between disapprobation of the object and the means.

Averfe as enthusiasm is to the retrograde motion of analysis, let me, my dear friend, lead you one step backward.

Why do you wish to pleafe? I except at prefent from the queftion, the defire to pleafe, arifing from a paffion which requires a reciprocal return. Confined as this with must be in a woman's heart to one object alone, when you fay, Julia, that the admiration of others will be abfolutely neceflary to your happiness, I must fuppofe you mean to exprefs only a general defire to please?

Then under this limitation-let me afk you again, why do you wifh to please?

Do not let a word ftop you. The word vanity conveys to us a difagreeable idea. There feems fomething felfifb in the fentiment-That all the pleasure we feel in pleafing others, arises from the gratification it affords to our own vanity.

We refine and explain, and never can bring ourselves fairly to make a confeffion, which we are fenfible must lower us in the opinion of others, and confequently mortify the very vanity we would conceal. So ftrangely then do we deceive ourselves as to deny the existence of a motive, which at the inftant prompts the denial. But let us, dear Julia, exchange the word vanity for a lefs odious word, felf-complacency; let us acknowledge that we wish to pleafe, because the fuccefs raifes our felf-complacency. If you ask why raifing our felf-approbation gives us pleasure, I muit answer, that I do not know. Yet I fee and feel that it does; I obferve that the voice of numbers is capable of raifing the higheft tranfport or the most fatal despair. The eye of man feems to poffefs a fafcinating power over his fellow-creatures, to raise the blufh of fhame, or the glow of pride.

I look around me and I fee riches, titles, dignities purfued with fuch eagerness by thoufands, only as the signs of diftinction. Nay, are not all these things facrificed the moment they cease to be diftinctions. The moment the prize of glory is to be won by other means, do not millions facrifice their fortunes, their peace, their health, their lives, for fame. Then amongst the highest pleafures of human beings, I must place felf-approbation. With this belief, let us endeavour to fecure it in the greatest extent, and to the longest duration.

Then Julia, the wish to please becomes only a fecondary motive fubordinate to the defire I have to fecure my own felf-complacency. We will examine how far they are connected.

In reflecting upon my own mind, I obferve that I am flattered by the opinion of others, in proportion to the opinion I have previously formed of their judgment; or, 1 perceive that the opinion of numbers merely as numbers has power to give me great pleasure or great pain. I would unite both thefe pleasures if I could, but in general I cannot-they are incompatible. The opinion of the vulgar crowd and the enlightened individual, the applaufe of the higheft and the loweft of mankind, cannot be obtained by the fame means.

Another question then arifes, whom fhall we wish to please ?We must choose, and be decided in the choice.

You fay that you are proud; I am prouder.-You will be content with indifcriminate admiration--nothing will content me but what is feledt. As long as I have the ufe of my reafon-as long as my heart can feel the delightful fenfe of a "well-earned praife," I will fix my eye on the highest pitch of excellence, and fteadily endeavour to attain it.

Confcious of her worth, and daring to affert it, I would have a woman, early in life, know that he is capable of filling the heart of a man of fenfe and merit-that fhe is worthy to be his companion and friend. With all the energy of her foul, with all the powers of her understanding, I would have a woman endeavour to please those whom the esteems and loves.

She runs a rifk, you will fay, of never meeting her equal.-Hearts and understandings of a fuperior order are seldom met with in the world; or when met with, it may not be her particular good fortune to win them.-True; but if ever the wins, the will keep them; and the prize appears to me well worth the pains and difficulty of attaining.

I, Julia, admire and feel enthufiafm; but I would have philofophy directed to the higheft objects. I dread apathy, as much as you can, and I would endeavour to prevent it, not by facrificing half my existence, but by enjoying the whole with mod

eration.

You ask why exercife does not increase fenfibility, and why fympathy with imaginary diftrefs will not alfo increase the difpofition to fympathife with what is real?-Because pity fhould, t

牛麵

think, always be affociated with the active defire to relieve. If it be fuffered to become a paffive fenfation, it is a useless weakness, not a virtue. The fpecies of reading you speak of must be hurt. ful, even in this refpect, to the mind, as it indulges all the luxury of woe in fympathy with fictitious diftrefs, without requiring the exertion which reality demands: Befides, univerfal experience proves to us that habit, fo far from increafing fenfibility, absolutely deftroys it, by familiarifing it with objects of compaffion.

Let me, my dear friend, appeal eyen to your own experience in the very inftances you mention. Is there any pathetic writer in the world, who could move you as much at the "twentieth reading," as at the firft. Speak naturally, and at the third or fourth reading, you would probably fay, It is very pathetic, but I have read it before-I liked it better the first time; that is to fay, it did touch me once-I know it ought to touch me now, but it does not :-beware of this Do not let life become as tedious as a twice-told tale.

Farewel, dear Julia; this is the anfwer of fact against elo quence, philofophy against enthusiasm. You appeal from my understanding to my heart-I appeal from the heart to the derstanding of my judge; and ten years hence the decifion per haps will be in my favour.

I

Yours, fincerely,

MISCELLANEA,

CAROLINE,

A TREATISE ON MISCELLANIES.

Written by D'ISRAELI.

un

GIVE fome obfervations on Mifcellanies, which, like their fubject, may perhaps require an apology for their unconnected state. The Mifcellanifts fatirife the Pedants; and the Pedants abuse the Mifcellanifts; but little has been hitherto gained by this inglorious conteft; fince Pedants will always be read by Pedants, and the Mifcellanifts by the tafteful, the volatile, and the amiable.

Literary effays are claffed under philological ftudies; but philology formerly confifted rather of the labours of arid grammarians, and conjectural critics, than of that more elegant philofophy which has been lately introduced into literature, and which by its graces and investigation, can- augment the beauties of original genius, by beauties of its own. This delightful science has been termed in Germany the ESTHETIC, from a Greek term, fignifying feeling. It is fomething more than the perfect theoretical knowledge of polite literature, and the fine arts, for while it embraces not only their common principles, and the particular precepts of every kind of literature, and of every art, it decides on the beautiful by TASTE, and not by Logic; by the acuteness of

* Hume faid, that Parnel's poems were as fresh at the twen tieth reading as at the first.

the fenfes it inftantly FEELS what pleafes or difpleafes. Longinus and Addison were æfthetic critics. Ariftotle and Boffu depend on accuracy of judgment, and logical definitions, and know though they may not feel what ought to pleafe. Imagination, fenfibility, and congeniality of mind are required in an ætthetic critic, who however has often been contemptuously appreciated by the critics of the adverfe fchool. Warburton has called Addifon an empty fuperficial writer; nor let it be forgotten how the logical critic has been little fenfible to the character of genius: and that without fympathy, taite, and imagination, it is poffible to form very elaborate criticifms. But one mult feel, to decide in the school of Longinus and Addifon.

It has been observed that philological pursuits inflate the mind with vanity, and have carried fome men of learning to a curious and ridiculous extravagance. Perhaps this literary orgaím may arife from two caules. Fhilologifts are apt to form too exalted an opinion of the nature of their studies, while they often make their peculiar tafle, a itandard by which they judge of the fentiments of others. It is not thus with the fcientific and the moral writer; Science is modeft and cautious, Morality is humble and exhortative, while Philology alone is arrogant and politive. An experiment in fcience is found with infinite labour, and may be overturned by a new diícovery; and an action in morality may be fo mingled with human paflions, that we hefitate to pronounce it perfect, and analyte it with tranquility. But it is not difficult with fome to perfuade themielves that Virgil is an immaculate author, and that they are men of exquifite tafte. The Pedants of the laft age exercifed a vanity and ferocity revived by those critics, who have been called Warburtonians. They employed fimilar language in their decifions to that of Du Moulin, a great lawyer of those days, who always prefixed to his confultations this defiance, "I who yield to no perion, and whom no person can teach any thing."

66

By one of thefe was Montaigne, the venerable father of modern Mifcellanies, called "a bold ignorant fellow." To thinking readers, this critical fummary will appear myfterious; for Montaigne had imbibed the fpirit of all modern writers of antiquity; and although he has made a capricious complaint of a defective memory, we cannot but wifh the complaint had been more rcal; for we difcover in his works nearly as much compilement, as reflection, and he is one of thofe authors who fhould quote rarely, but who deferves to be often quoted. Montaigne was cenfured by Scaliger. as Addifon was cenfured by Warbuton; because both, like Socrates, fmiled at that mere eru dition, which confifts of knowing the thoughts of others, and having no thoughts of our own. To weigh fyllables, and to arrange dates, to adjust texts, and to heap annotations, has generally proved the abfence of the higher faculties. When a more adventurous fpirit, of this heard, attempted fome novel difcovery, aften men of tafte beheld, with indignation, the pervertions of