from another species of luxury; but this is pardonable in people who are rich enough to buy a good book, though it may be a gaudy one; otherwife they would refemble the man who spent fo much money on frames, that he had nothing left to buy pic tures for them.

When a library is fmall, we should know by the books that compofe it the difpofition of the proprietor; it would be ridiculous to find in that of a magiftrate, nothing but poetry and romances; or in that of a foldier, no copy of Polybius, or of Cæfar's Com

mentaries.

Serious ftudies require a total abftraction from domeftic folicitude, and from anxious concern for the future; on this account, the monaftic life is the moft proper for ftudy, because they who devote themselves to it are always fecure against want, both at the prefent moment, and when they become unable to labour. Hence we must conclude, that if monafteries were abolished, learning and the means of acquiring it would fuffer much. It is faid, indeed, that there are many orders of Monks that neither ftudy nor teach, but to this we must reply, that measures fhould be fallen upon to make them useful rather than to annihilate them.

It is a peculiar gratification to the man of reading and ftudy to have a perfon with whom he may argue and reafon on what he has read. Scire tuum nihil eft nifi te fcire hoc fciat alter; but it is neceffary to choose those with whom we wish to reason on what we know and have read; for if unluckily we should fall into the hands of thofe conceited, cenforious, and unwearied difputants, that are but too common in the world, it would have been better for us never to have reasoned at all. In this unfortunate cafe, we must keep to ourselves what we have

read.

Forsed ffudies fatigue and tire us, but when they are voluntary and free, we purfue them as it were without perceiving. I knew a lady who, having for a long time had a connection with a certain perfon, had been accustomed to write to him almost every day, even when they lived together in the fame town, giving him an account of her time, her reading, and her very thoughts. The gentleman died, and his heirs had the politenefs to return the lady her letters. Thefe, as fhe had a friendship to me, the allowed me to read and to carry away. I read them with the greatest imaginable pleasure; they abounded in wit, in reflections, and thoughts equally elegant and juft. I collected them together, arranged them according to their dates, and bound them up in four 4to volumes. Some time after, being with the lady, I made her repeat what the had often obferved Gent. Mag, Feb. 1788,

Montagne fearned Latin by note without a mafter, at least without rudiments. I have feen the time when scholars at the Jefuits College, were obliged to speak Latin to the cooks and valets of the college, when they wanted the most common neceffaries. Latin, spoken in this way, muft needs be wretched: it is what we call kitchen Latin: but fuch as it is, it gives one fome practice in the fpeaking of Latin, and it is useful to thofe who, travelling in Germany, Hungary, Bohemia, and Poland, are obliged to have recourse to Latin to make themselves understood. It is needlefs to think of learning to speak Greek, but it is neceflary to underftand the grammar, and to be mafter of the Greek roots; it is incredible of what ufe these roots are, in explaining the etymology of the terms of art and fcience; nay, two thirds of the words in common ufe in the French language are derived either immediately or remotely from the Greek.

There are fome didactic books fo tedious and difagreeable, though fufficiently learned, that one may juftly call them antidotes to ftudy, as fome ill-tempered and ugly women have been called antidotes to love. Young people ought to be spared the tedioufnefs of fuch books, and others fhould be put into their hands that will excite their curiofity and engage their attention. To intereft his reader is the great art in every author. It ought to be the aim and object of him who writes on the fciences and hiftory, as well as of the author of plays and romances. But to create an intereft is not all; he muft fupport it to the end. Hoc opus, hic labor eft. Style too is a neceffary article, but juftnefs of thought and precision of expreffion are the effential requifites.

There are two ways of cultivating the memory: one is the getting by heart large paffages of poetry, whole orations, pages of figures, &c. With a memory of this kind, we often perform aftonishing feats, but they are in general ufelefs; the other I call the memory of Judgment: by this we retain the fenfe and arrangement of things: if this is not the true kind of memory, it is certainly a good kind, it is the kind by which we gain moft knowledge. It is applicable alike to what we have feen, and what we have read, and it fatigues us less than the firft, for we L

remem

remember every thing without effort, and without perceiving it.

Men of great genius have no occafion for reading in order to conceive grand and beautiful ideas, or form bold and useful defigns. Yet reading is of ufe in regulating their ideas, and in fhewing them by the example of thofe to whom the fame have occurred, what inconveniences thofe who have followed them with too much ardour and precipitation have expofed themselves to. It has been faid long ago, that hiftory is experience anticipated, and this experience is at least neceffary for those who may be led aftray by their ideas, and who may conceive too bold defigns.

The epiftolary ftyle is moft neceffary for women. Those who wish to write well in this way, need not take much trouble in or der to fucceed. They muft even take care not to lose that eafy turn of expreffion, that fmooth, fprightly, and often voluptuous ftyle which is natural to them.

I return to the fubject of Memory, to speak of those who want this faculty altogether. There are people who are obliged, in aid of the little memory they have, to make memorandum.s of every thing they have to do. A certain intendant at Tours, who lived at the beginning of this century, wasfamous for his agenda: his friends, ufed to fteal his tables when they could lay hold of them, and read them behind his chair. One day the follow ing memorandum was found written: "I have come to the refolution of fhaving myfelf hence forward, for my fervants are rafcals that almof flea me." A little lower: "I have refolved never again, in fwearing, to ule the word mordicu; it is a vulgar expreffion, not fuitable to the dignity of a ma giftrate or intendant; morbleu is better. It was not, however, this gentleman who was the author of the following, but a man who went often from Paris to Lyons: "Mem. To get married as I pafs through Nevers."

Notwithstanding the ill I have been faying of Agenda, Imake ufe of the practice sometimes, and find it very ufeful, but I take care not to write down my refolutions, or the rules of my conduct.

I have read in an eloge of the Abbé de Louvois, that he was educated according to the intentions of his father, who was then all-powerful, nothing being neglected that could make him an accomplished man. The moft learned persons were employed in inventing methods for teaching him every thing in a little time. He was fed, fays his Panegyrift, with the elixir and quinteffence of the Iciences, like the rich and delicate who live on the extracts, the juices, and, eilences of animals and vegetables. The compart fon is juft and elegant, but as there is a necef, Ery to have a good fomach, in order to di

The English do not trouble themselves with ftyle, and lefs with method; but their thoughts are bold and ftrong: accuftomed to rife above prejudices in matters of government and politics, they treat all fubjects with equal freedom. Their pleafantries are necither delicate nor elegant: their fatire is violent, but fometimes full of humour. We know Swift, one of their most ingenious and wittieft authors. He has been pretty well tranflated into French; and in general it is easier to render the pleasantries of the English into other languages, than to tranflate those of the Italians into French, or ours into any other language: for the English turn more on the thought, and they defcribe with much energy; while the Italians play upon the words, and the French run round and round about their object, trifle and play with it like a cat with a moufe; confequently it is very difficult to catch the spirit of their pleafantries, or to tranflate them. Nothing can be more agreeable to read than the papers of the Spectator, and if the English had much of this fort, we could not be too eager in becoming acquainted with them. But I forefee, that a great deal of wretched imitations of that excellent work will be tranflated into our tongue, which will establish among us a new tafte in literature; that the French, who can never check the effects of their enthusiasm, will be anglicifed, and that we will lofe fomewhat of our graces in acquiring part of the boldness of their ideas, and of their freedom of thinking and writing. Voltaire fays, that whoever thinks ftrongly, will expreís himself ftrongly this is true, but we may carry this ftrength of thought too far, and become harth and difgufling in our ideas as well as in ftyle.

A

A Contraf.

Handfome French Woman, befies the ease of her manners, has commonly a look of cheerfulness and great vivacity. She appears willing to be acquainted with men, and feems to expect that men should addrefs her.

The manners of an English Woman is not fo devoid of reftraint, and a firanger, especially if a foreigner, may obferve a look which borders on difdain on her countenance. Even among the lovelieft features, fomething of a fulky air always appears, while their beauty allures. This in fome degree checks that freedom of addrefs which you might ufe to a French Woman, and interefis your vanity more, by giving an idea of the difficulties you have to conquer.

of

Of Modern Comedy.

HAT kind of entertainment which the

Tinglin call Farce is the ancient come dy, as it appears in Plautus and Ariftophanes; and ferious comedy is indeed almost à contradiction in terms. Terence's comedies are confeffedly too ferious. The language is elegant, the fentiments beautiful; but the comic force is not fufficiently apparent and ftriking.

To recreate, by exciting laughter, and to inftruct by exhibiting foibles and faults as objects of ridicule, is the final caufe of comedy. I know that philofophical critics, or rather logicians and metaphyficians, give very fubtile definitions of comedy; but I am inclined to view it rather in a popular light, as it appears to a crowded theatre, or is perufed by the common reader, than as it contemplated in the schools of fpiderlike metaphysicians. If I were to appeal to an audience affembled at Covent Garden or Drury Lane theatres, I believe they would cordially agree with me, that a truly excellent comedy it that which caufes them to fhike their fides moft frequemly with the drollery of its fcenes, and the wit and humour of its conversation. A perplexed and involved plot is disagreeable to the majority. It employs their attention in a painful complication of events, while it ought to be easily and pleafantly amufed by the dialogue. The greater part of an audience affemble at a theatre after the toils of the day to be innocently amufed. They are not defirous of that laborious exercife of the memory and understanding which is fometimes neceffary to comprehend the plot of a modern comedy. I think it would be an improvement in the dramatic line, if the plots of plays were more remarkable for fimplicity; but many comedies are in the greatest esteem which are fingularly perplexed in their story.

Sentimental comedies have been greatly admired; and it seems to argue a great delicacy of tafte and purity of morals when a whole people are delighted with them. But it may be faid of them with great truth, that they encroach on the province of tragedy. A fentimental comedy endeavours to excite emotions of pity; and cannot this purpofe be more effectually accomplished by tragedy? Let us fuppofe a perfon intending to amufe his evening by the fight of a Play At one theatre a comedy is to be exhibited, at another, a tragedy. He debates the point with himself to which he fhall go, and finds that his mind is in a difpofition to be diverted with ludicrous reprefentation. He refolves therefore to fee the comedy. Unacquainted with ne piece, he enters the theatre in expectation of mirth; but the comedians, after a great deal of delicate, refined, and ferious converse, begin to weep. The fpectator can

fcarcely believe that he has not made a mistake. He finds the diftrefs of tragedy under the deceitful title of comedy. He is dejected

and difappointed; and, indeed, has a right to complain of a feat ferved up different from the bill of fare.

I argue from the juft difpleasure of a fpectator fo difappointed, that fentimental comedy should be diftinguished by some name appriated to its nature. I have read feveral fentimental comedies which exhibited beautiful language, and were on many accounts very pleafing in the clofet, though they did not excite laughter on the ftage. Terence is certainly the model of sentimental comedy; but his imitators ought to remember, that the beft of judges, among whom was Julius Cæfar, difapproved his want of wit and humour.

The pleafurewhich wit and humour arecapable of affording the human mind is exquifite, and was intended by a benign Providence to mitigate the ills of life. It is, therefore defireable, that comedy fhould preferve her genuine excellence, and not lofe the power of exciting mirth by being confounded with a ferious and pathetic fpecies of compofition.

There are reftraints under which the comic mufe ought to be confined. She has ufually tranfgreffed the bounds of decency and nature, Her fallies have tranfported her to eccentricities which judgment muft condemn, though the gaiety of thoughtlefs meriment may feem to have approved, by joining in the laughter which they excited in a theatre. Indeed the ancients are more culpable than the moderns in this refpect; for where is the modern who in obfcene and filthy ideas can be compared with Plautus and Ariftophanes? The excellent Collier did great fervice to fociety, by fatirizing the indecencies of the English ftage in the laft age; and indecency is certainly not the fault of the prefent comedy.

The fault of the prefent comedy is rather an infipidity. The language is ufually ele gant, and the plot well laid, but the comie force is not often fufficient to command univerfal laughter, independently of the grimace and theatrical tricks of the actor. It is, as I have more than once already hinted, much more like Terence than Plautus. To fay this, is to pay it a greater compliment than perhaps it deferves; for Plautus has never been eftimated at the fame valute with Terence. Plautus has mingled many coarse jokes, and many indecent allufions with his wit, which cannot but lower his merit, and leffen the praife which would otherwife be liberally bestowed upon him.

If a writer fhould arife with all the drolle ry and humour of Plautus and Ariftophanes, yet without their ribaldry, I think he would find univerfal approbation. We have many excellent comedies in the English language, but they are moff of them difgraced by indecency.

L