No More Learning

THE WORKS OF

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.

IN NINE VOLUMES.


VOLUME THE SIXTH.


MDCCCXXV.






CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.


REVIEWS.

Letter on Du Halde's history of China.

Review of the account of the conduct of the dutchess of Marlborough.

Review of memoirs of the court of Augustus.

Review of four letters from sir Isaac Newton.

Review of a journal of eight days' journey.

Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer.

Review of an essay on the writings and genius of Pope.

Review of a free enquiry into the nature and origin of evil.

Review of the history of the Royal Society of London, &c.

Review of the general history of Polybius.

Review of miscellanies on moral and religious subjects.

Account of a book entitled an historical and critical enquiry into the
evidence produced by the earls of Moray and Morton against Mary queen of
Scots, &c.

Marmor Norfolciense; or, an essay on an ancient prophetical inscription
in monkish rhyme, lately discovered near Lynn, in Norfolk.

Observations on the state of affairs in 1756.

An introduction to the political state of Great Britain.

Observations on the treaty between his Britannic majesty and his
imperial majesty of all the Russias, &c.

Introduction to the proceedings of the committee appointed to manage the
contributions for clothing French prisoners of war.

On the bravery of the English common soldiers.


POLITICAL TRACTS.

Prefatory observations to political tracts.

The False Alarm. 1770.

Prefatory observations on Falkland's islands.

Thoughts on the late transactions respecting Falkland's islands.

The Patriot.

Taxation no tyranny; an answer to the resolutions and address of the
American congress. 1775.


LIVES OF EMINENT PERSONS.

Father Paul Sarpi.

Boerhaave.

Blake.

Sir Francis Drake.

Barretier.

Additional account of the life of Barretier in the Gentleman's Magazine,
1742.

Morin.

Burman.

Sydenham.

Cheynel.

Cave.

King of Prussia.

Browne.

Ascham.






REVIEWS.




LETTER ON DU HALDE'S HISTORY OF CHINA, 1738.


There are few nations in the world more talked of, or less known, than
the Chinese. The confused and imperfect account which travellers have
given of their grandeur, their sciences, and their policy, have,
hitherto, excited admiration, but have not been sufficient to satisfy
even a superficial curiosity. I, therefore, return you my thanks for
having undertaken, at so great an expense, to convey to English readers
the most copious and accurate account, yet published, of that remote and
celebrated people, whose antiquity, magnificence, power, wisdom,
peculiar customs, and excellent constitution, undoubtedly deserve the
attention of the publick.

As the satisfaction found in reading descriptions of distant countries
arises from a comparison which every reader naturally makes, between the
ideas which he receives from the relation, and those which were familiar
to him before; or, in other words, between the countries with which he
is acquainted, and that which the author displays to his imagination; so
it varies according to the likeness or dissimilitude of the manners of
the two nations. Any custom or law, unheard and unthought of before,
strikes us with that surprise which is the effect of novelty; but a
practice conformable to our own pleases us, because it flatters our
self-love, by showing us that our opinions are approved by the general
concurrence of mankind. Of these two pleasures, the first is more
violent, the other more lasting; the first seems to partake more of
instinct than reason, and is not easily to be explained, or defined; the
latter has its foundation in good sense and reflection, and evidently
depends on the same principles with most human passions.

An attentive reader will frequently feel each of these agreeable
emotions in the perusal of Du Halde. He will find a calm, peaceful
satisfaction, when he reads the moral precepts and wise instructions of
the Chinese sages; he will find that virtue is in every place the same;
and will look with new contempt on those wild reasoners, who affirm,
that morality is merely ideal, and that the distinctions between good
and ill are wholly chimerical.

But he will enjoy all the pleasure that novelty can afford, when he
becomes acquainted with the Chinese government and constitution; he will
be amazed to find that there is a country where nobility and knowledge
are the same, where men advance in rank as they advance in learning, and
promotion is the effect of virtuous industry; where no man thinks
ignorance a mark of greatness, or laziness the privilege of high birth.

His surprise will be still heightened by the relations he will there
meet with, of honest ministers, who, however incredible it may seem,
have been seen more than once in that monarchy, and have adventured to
admonish the emperours of any deviation from the laws of their country,
or any errour in their conduct, that has endangered either their own
safety, or the happiness of their people. He will read of emperours,
who, when they have been addressed in this manner, have neither stormed,
nor threatened, nor kicked their ministers, nor thought it majestick to
be obstinate in the wrong; but have, with a greatness of mind worthy of
a Chinese monarch, brought their actions willingly to the test of
reason, law, and morality, and scorned to exert their power in defence
of that which they could not support by argument.

I must confess my wonder at these relations was very great, and had been
much greater, had I not often entertained my imagination with an
instance of the like conduct in a prince of England, on an occasion that
happened not quite a century ago, and which I shall relate, that so
remarkable an example of spirit and firmness in a subject, and of
conviction and compliance in a prince, may not be forgotten. And I hope
you will look upon this letter as intended to do honour to my country,
and not to serve your interest by promoting your undertaking.

The prince, at the christening of his first son, had appointed a noble
duke to stand as proxy for the father of the princess, without regard to
the claim of a marquis, (heir apparent to a higher title,) to whom, as
lord of the bedchamber, then in waiting, that honour properly belonged.
--The marquis was wholly unacquainted with the affair, till he heard,
at dinner, the duke's health drunk, by the name of the prince he was
that evening to represent. This he took an opportunity, after dinner, of
inquiring the reason of, and was informed, by the prince's treasurer, of
his highness's intention. The marquis immediately declared, that he
thought his right invaded, and his honour injured, which he could not
bear without requiring satisfaction from the usurper of his privileges;
nor would he longer serve a prince who paid no regard to his lawful
pretensions. The treasurer could not deny that the marquis's claim was
incontestable, and, by his permission, acquainted the prince with his
resolution. The prince, thereupon, sending for the marquis, demanded,
with a resentful and imperious air, how he could dispute his commands,
and by what authority he presumed to control him in the management of
his own family, and the christening of his own son. The marquis
answered, that he did not encroach upon the prince's right, but only
defended his own: that he thought his honour concerned, and, as he was a
young man, would not enter the world with the loss of his reputation.
The prince, exasperated to a very high degree, repeated his commands;
but the marquis, with a spirit and firmness not to be depressed or
shaken, persisted in his determination to assert his claim, and
concluded with declaring that he would do himself the justice that was
denied him; and that not the prince himself should trample on his
character. He was then ordered to withdraw, and the duke coming to him,
assured him, that the honour was offered him unasked; that when he
accepted it, he was not informed of his lordship's claim, and that now
he very willingly resigned it. The marquis very gracefully acknowledged
the civility of the duke's expressions, and declared himself satisfied
with his grace's conduct; but thought it inconsistent with his honour to
accept the representation as a cession of the duke, or on any other
terms than as his own acknowledged right. The prince, being informed of
the whole conversation, and having, upon inquiry, found all the
precedents on the marquis's side, thought it below his dignity to
persist in an errour, and, restoring the marquis to his right upon his
own conditions, continued him in his favour, believing that he might
safely trust his affairs in the hands of a man, who had so nice a sense
of honour, and so much spirit to assert it.




REVIEW OF THE ACCOUNT OF THE CONDUCT OF THE DUTCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH [1].


The universal regard, which is paid by mankind to such accounts of
publick transactions as have been written by those who were engaged in
them, may be, with great probability, ascribed to that ardent love of
truth, which nature has kindled in the breast of man, and which remains
even where every other laudable passion is extinguished. We cannot but
read such narratives with uncommon curiosity, because we consider the
writer as indubitably possessed of the ability to give us just
representations, and do not always reflect, that, very often,
proportionate to the opportunities of knowing the truth, are the
temptations to disguise it.

Authors of this kind have, at least, an incontestable superiority over
those whose passions are the same, and whose knowledge is less. It is
evident that those who write in their own defence, discover often more
impartiality, and less contempt of evidence, than the advocates which
faction or interest have raised in their favour.

It is, however, to be remembered, that the parent of all memoirs, is the
ambition of being distinguished from the herd of mankind, and the fear
of either infamy or oblivion, passions which cannot but have some degree
of influence, and which may, at least, affect the writer's choice of
facts, though they may not prevail upon him to advance known falsehoods.
He may aggravate or extenuate particular circumstances, though he
preserves the general transaction; as the general likeness may be
preserved in painting, though a blemish is hid or a beauty improved.

Every man that is solicitous about the esteem of others, is, in a great
degree, desirous of his own, and makes, by consequence, his first
apology for his conduct to himself; and when he has once deceived his
own heart, which is, for the greatest part, too easy a task, he
propagates the deceit in the world, without reluctance or consciousness
of falsehood.

But to what purpose, it may be asked, are such reflections, except to
produce a general incredulity, and to make history of no use? The man
who knows not the truth cannot, and he who knows it, will not tell it;
what then remains, but to distrust every relation, and live in perpetual
negligence of past events; or, what is still more disagreeable, in
perpetual suspense?

That by such remarks some incredulity is, indeed, produced, cannot be
denied; but distrust is a necessary qualification of a student in
history. Distrust quickens his discernment of different degrees of
probability, animates his search after evidence, and, perhaps, heightens
his pleasure at the discovery of truth; for truth, though not always
obvious, is generally discoverable; nor is it any where more likely to
be found than in private memoirs, which are generally published at a
time when any gross falsehood may be detected by living witnesses, and
which always contain a thousand incidents, of which the writer could not
have acquired a certain knowledge, and which he has no reason for
disguising.

Such is the account lately published by the dutchess of Marlborough, of
her own conduct, by which those who are very little concerned about the
character which it is principally intended to preserve or to retrieve,
may be entertained and instructed. By the perusal of this account, the
inquirer into human nature may obtain an intimate acquaintance with the
characters of those whose names have crowded the latest histories, and
discover the relation between their minds and their actions. The
historian may trace the progress of great transactions, and discover the
secret causes of important events. And, to mention one use more, the
polite writer may learn an unaffected dignity of style, and an artful
simplicity of narration.

The method of confirming her relation, by inserting, at length, the
letters that every transaction occasioned, has not only set the greatest
part of the work above the danger of confutation, but has added to the
entertainment of the reader, who has now the satisfaction of forming to
himself the characters of the actors, and judging how nearly such, as
have hitherto been given of them, agree with those which they now give
of themselves.

Even of those whose letters could not be made publick, we have a more
exact knowledge than can be expected from general histories, because we
see them in their private apartments, in their careless hours, and
observe those actions in which they indulged their own inclinations,
without any regard to censure or applause.

Thus it is, that we are made acquainted with the disposition of king
William, of whom it may be collected, from various instances, that he
was arbitrary, insolent, gloomy, rapacious, and brutal; that he was, at
all times, disposed to play the tyrant; that he had, neither in great
things, nor in small, the manners of a gentleman; that he was capable of
gaining money by mean artifices, and that he only regarded his promise
when it was his interest to keep it.

There are, doubtless, great numbers who will be offended with this
delineation of the mind of the immortal William, but they whose honesty
or sense enables them to consider impartially the events of his reign,
will now be enabled to discover the reason of the frequent oppositions
which he encountered, and of the personal affronts which he was,
sometimes, forced to endure. They will observe, that it is not always
sufficient to do right, and that it is often necessary to add
gracefulness to virtue. They will recollect how vain it is to endeavour
to gain men by great qualities, while our cursory behaviour is insolent
and offensive; and that those may be disgusted by little things, who can
scarcely be pleased with great.

Charles the second, by his affability and politeness, made himself the
idol of the nation, which he betrayed and sold. William the third was,
for his insolence and brutality, hated by that people, which he
protected and enriched:--had the best part of these two characters been
united in one prince, the house of Bourbon had fallen before him.

It is not without pain, that the reader observes a shade encroaching
upon the light with which the memory of queen Mary has been hitherto
invested--the popular, the beneficent, the pious, the celestial queen
Mary, from whose presence none ever withdrew without an addition to his
happiness. What can be charged upon this delight of human kind? Nothing
less than that _she wanted bowels_, and was insolent with her power;
that she was resentful, and pertinacious in her resentment; that she
descended to mean acts of revenge, when heavier vengeance was not in her
power; that she was desirous of controlling where she had no authority,
and backward to forgive, even when she had no real injury to complain
of.

This is a character so different from all those that have been,
hitherto, given of this celebrated princess, that the reader stands in
suspense, till he considers the inconsistencies in human conduct,
remembers that no virtue is without its weakness, and considers that
queen Mary's character has, hitherto, had this great advantage, that it
has only been compared with those of kings.

The greatest number of the letters inserted in this account, were
written by queen Anne, of which it may be truly observed, that they will
be equally useful for the, confutation of those who have exalted or
depressed her character. They are written with great purity and
correctness, without any forced expressions, affected phrases, or
unnatural sentiments; and show uncommon clearness of understanding,
tenderness of affection, and rectitude of intention; but discover, at
the same time, a temper timorous, anxious, and impatient of misfortune;
a tendency to burst into complaints, helpless dependance on the
affection of others, and a weak desire of moving compassion. There is,
indeed, nothing insolent or overbearing; but then there is nothing
great, or firm, or regal; nothing that enforces obedience and respect,
or which does not rather invite opposition and petulance. She seems born
for friendship, not for government; and to be unable to regulate the
conduct of others, otherwise than by her own example.

That this character is just, appears from the occurrences in her reign,
in which the nation was governed, for many years, by a party whose
principles she detested, but whose influence she knew not how to
obviate, and to whose schemes she was subservient against her
inclination.

The charge of tyrannising over her, which was made, by turns, against
each party, proves that, in the opinion of both, she was easily to be
governed; and though it may be supposed, that the letters here published
were selected with some regard to respect and ceremony, it appears,
plainly enough, from them, that she was what she has been represented,
little more than the slave of the Marlborough family.

The inferiour characters, as they are of less importance, are less
accurately delineated; the picture of Harley is, at least, partially
drawn: all the deformities are heightened, and the beauties, for
beauties of mind he certainly had, are entirely omitted.




REVIEW OF MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF AUGUSTUS;

BY THOMAS BLACKWELL, J. U. D.

PRINCIPAL OF MARISCHAL COLLEGE, IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN [2].


The first effect, which this book has upon the reader, is that of
disgusting him with the author's vanity. He endeavours to persuade the
world, that here are some new treasures of literature spread before his
eyes; that something is discovered, which, to this happy day, had been
concealed in darkness; that, by his diligence, time has been robbed of
some valuable monument which he was on the point of devouring; and that
names and facts, doomed to oblivion, are now restored to fame.

How must the unlearned reader be surprised, when he shall be told that
Mr. Blackwell has neither digged in the ruins of any demolished city,
nor found out the way to the library of Fez; nor had a single book in
his hands, that has not been in the possession of every man that was
inclined to read it, for years and ages; and that his book relates to a
people, who, above all others, have furnished employment to the
studious, and amusements to the idle; who have scarcely left behind them
a coin or a stone, which has not been examined and explained a thousand
times; and whose dress, and food, and household stuff, it has been the
pride of learning to understand.

A man need not fear to incur the imputation of vicious diffidence or
affected humility, who should have forborne to promise many novelties,
when he perceived such multitudes of writers possessed of the same
materials, and intent upon the same purpose. Mr. Blackwell knows well
the opinion of Horace, concerning those that open their undertakings
with magnificent promises; and he knows, likewise, the dictates of
common sense and common honesty, names of greater authority than that of
Horace, who direct, that no man should promise what he cannot perform.

I do not mean to declare, that this volume has nothing new, or that the
labours of those who have gone before our author, have made his
performance an useless addition to the burden of literature. New works
may be constructed with old materials; the disposition of the parts may
show contrivance; the ornaments interspersed may discover elegance.

It is not always without good effect, that men, of proper
qualifications, write, in succession, on the same subject, even when the
latter add nothing to the information given by the former; for the same
ideas may be delivered more intelligibly or more delightfully by one
than by another, or with attractions that may lure minds of a different
form. No writer pleases all, and every writer may please some.

But, after all, to inherit is not to acquire; to decorate is not to
make; and the man, who had nothing to do but to read the ancient
authors, who mention the Roman affairs, and reduce them to common
places, ought not to boast himself as a great benefactor to the studious
world.

After a preface of boast, and a letter of flattery, in which he seems to
imitate the address of Horace, in his "vile potabis modicis Sabinum"--he
opens his book with telling us, that the "Roman republic, after the
horrible proscription, was no more at _bleeding Rome_. The regal power
of her consuls, the authority of her senate, and the majesty of her
people, were now trampled under foot; these [for those] divine laws and
hallowed customs, that had been the essence of her constitution--were
set at nought, and her best friends were lying exposed in their blood. "

These were surely very dismal times to those who suffered; but I know
not, why any one but a schoolboy, in his declamation, should whine over
the commonwealth of Rome, which grew great only by the misery of the
rest of mankind. The Romans, like others, as soon as they grew rich,
grew corrupt, and, in their corruption, sold the lives and freedoms of
themselves, and of one another.

"About this time, Brutus had his patience put to the _highest_ trial: he
had been married to Clodia; but whether the family did not please him,
or whether he was dissatisfied with the lady's behaviour during his
absence, he soon entertained thoughts of a separation. _This raised a
good deal of talk_, and the women of the Clodian family inveighed
bitterly against Brutus--but he married Portia, who was worthy of such a
father as M. Cato, and such a husband as M. Brutus. She had a soul
capable of an _exalted passion_, and found a proper object to raise and
give it a sanction; she did not only love but adored her husband; his
worth, his truth, his every shining and heroic quality, made her gaze on
him like a god, while the endearing returns of esteem and tenderness she
met with, brought her joy, her pride, her every wish to centre in her
beloved Brutus. "

When the reader has been awakened by this rapturous preparation, he
hears the whole story of Portia in the same luxuriant style, till she
breathed out her last, a little before the _bloody proscription_, and
"Brutus complained heavily of his friends at Rome, as not having paid
due attention to his lady in the declining state of her health. "

He is a great lover of modern terms. His senators and their wives are
_gentlemen and ladies_. In this review of Brutus's army, _who was under
the command of gallant men, not braver officers than true patriots_, he
tells _us_, "that Sextus, the questor, was _paymaster, secretary at war,
and commissary general_; and that the _sacred discipline_ of the Romans
required the closest connexion, like that of father and son, to subsist
between the general of an army and his questor. Cicero was _general of
the cavalry_, and the next _general officer_ was Flavius, _master of Ihe
artillery_, the elder Lentulus was _admiral_, and the younger _rode_ in
the _band of volunteers_; under these the tribunes, _with many others,
too tedious to name_. " Lentulus, however, was but a subordinate officer;
for we are informed afterwards, that the Romans had made Sextus Pompeius
lord high admiral in all the seas of their dominions. Among other
affectations of this writer, is a furious and unnecessary zeal for
liberty; or rather, for one form of government as preferable to another.
This, indeed, might be suffered, because political institution is a
subject in which men have always differed, and, if they continue to obey
their lawful governours, and attempt not to make innovations, for the
sake of their favourite schemes, they may differ for ever, without any
just reproach from one another. But who can bear the hardy champion, who
ventures nothing? who, in full security, undertakes the defence of the
assassination of Cassar, and declares his resolution to speak plain? Yet
let not just sentiments be overlooked: he has justly observed, that the
greater part of mankind will be naturally prejudiced against Brutus, for
all feel the benefits of private friendship; but few can discern the
advantages of a well-constituted government [3].

We know not whether some apology may not be necessary for the distance
between the first account of this book and its continuation. The truth
is, that this work, not being forced upon our attention by much publick
applause or censure, was sometimes neglected, and sometimes forgotten;
nor would it, perhaps, have been now resumed, but that we might avoid to
disappoint our readers by an abrupt desertion of any subject.

It is not our design to criticise the facts of this history, but the
style; not the veracity, but the address of the writer; for, an account
of the ancient Romans, as it cannot nearly interest any present reader,
and must be drawn from writings that have been long known, can owe its
value only to the language in which it is delivered, and the reflections
with which it is accompanied. Dr. Blackwell, however, seems to have
heated his imagination, so as to be much affected with every event, and
to believe that he can affect others. Enthusiasm is, indeed,
sufficiently contagious; but I never found any of his readers much
enamoured of the _glorious Pompey, the patriot approv'd_, or much
incensed against the _lawless Caesar_, whom this author, probably, stabs
every day and night in his sleeping or waking dreams.

He is come too late into the world with his fury for freedom, with his
Brutus and Cassius. We have all, on this side of the Tweed, long since
settled our opinions: his zeal for Roman liberty and declamations
against the violators of the republican constitution, only stand now in
the reader's way, who wishes to proceed in the narrative without the
interruption of epithets and exclamations. It is not easy to forbear
laughter at a man so bold in fighting shadows, so busy in a dispute two
thousand years past, and so zealous for the honour of a people, who,
while they were poor, robbed mankind, and, as soon as they became rich,
robbed one another. Of these robberies our author seems to have no very
quick sense, except when they are committed by Caesar's party, for every
act is sanctified by the name of a patriot.

If this author's skill in ancient literature were less generally
acknowledged, one might sometimes suspect, that he had too frequently
consulted the French writers. He tells us, that Archelaus, the Rhodian,
made a speech to Cassius, and, _in so saying_, dropt some tears; and
that Cassius, after the reduction of Rhodes, was _covered with
glory_. --Deiotarus was a keen and happy spirit--the ingrate Castor kept
his court.

His great delight is to show his universal acquaintance with terms of
art, with words that every other polite writer has avoided and despised.
When Pompey conquered the pirates, he destroyed fifteen hundred ships of
the line. --The Xanthian parapets were tore down. --Brutus, suspecting
that his troops were plundering, commanded the trumpets to sound to
their colours. --Most people understood the act of attainder passed by
the senate. --The Numidian troopers were unlikely in their appearance. --
The Numidians beat up one quarter after another. --Salvidienus resolved
to pass his men over, in boats of leather, and he gave orders for
equipping a sufficient number of that sort of small craft. --Pompey had
light, agile frigates, and fought in a strait, where the current and
caverns occasion swirls and a roll. --A sharp out-look was kept by the
admiral. --It is a run of about fifty Roman miles. --Brutus broke Lipella
in the sight of the army. --Mark Antony garbled the senate. He was a
brave man, well qualified for a commodore.

In his choice of phrases he frequently uses words with great solemnity,
which every other mouth and pen has appropriated to jocularity and
levity! The Rhodians gave up the contest, and, in poor plight, fled back
to Rhodes. --Boys and girls were easily kidnapped. --Deiotarus was a
mighty believer of augury. --Deiotarus destroyed his ungracious
progeny. --The regularity of the Romans was their mortal aversion. --They
desired the consuls to curb such heinous doings. --He had such a shrewd
invention, that no side of a question came amiss to him. --Brutus found
his mistress a coquettish creature.

He sometimes, with most unlucky dexterity, mixes the grand and the
burlesque together; _the violation of faith, sir_, says Cassius, _lies
at the door of the Rhodians by reite-rated acts of perfidy_. --The iron
grate fell down, crushed those under it to death, and catched the rest
as in a trap. --When the Xanthians heard the military shout, and saw the
flame mount, they concluded there would be no mercy. It was now about
sunset, and they had been at hot work since noon.

He has, often, words, or phrases, with which our language has hitherto
had no knowledge. --One was a heart-friend to the republic--A deed was
expeded. --The Numidians begun to reel, and were in hazard of falling
into confusion. --The tutor embraced his pupil close in his arms. --Four
hundred women were taxed, who have, no doubt, been the wives of the best
Roman citizens. --Men not born to action are inconsequential in
government. --Collectitious troops. --The foot, by their violent attack,
began the fatal break in the Pharsaliac field. --He and his brother, with
a politic, common to other countries, had taken opposite sides.

His epithets are of the gaudy or hyperbolical kind. The glorious
news--eager hopes and dismal fears--bleeding Rome--divine laws and
hallowed customs--merciless war--intense anxiety.

Sometimes the reader is suddenly ravished with a sonorous sentence, of
which, when the noise is past, the meaning does not long remain. When
Brutus set his legions to fill a moat, instead of heavy dragging and
slow toil, they set about it with huzzas and racing, as if they had been
striving at the Olympic games. They hurled impetuous down the huge trees
and stones, and, with shouts, forced them into the water; so that the
work, expected to continue half the campaign, was, with rapid toil,
completed in a few days.
Brutus's soldiers fell to the gate with
resistless fury; it gave way, at last, with hideous crash. --This great
and good man, doing his duty to his country, received a mortal wound,
and glorious fell in the cause of Rome; may his memory be ever dear to
all lovers of liberty, learning, and humanity! This promise ought ever
to embalm his memory. --The queen of nations was torn by no foreign
invader. --Rome fell a sacrifice to her own sons, and was ravaged by her
unnatural offspring: all the great men of the state, all the good, all
the holy, were openly murdered by the wickedest and worst. --Little
islands cover the harbour of Brindisi, and form the narrow outlet from
the numerous creeks that compose its capacious port. --At the appearance
of Brutus and Cassius, a shout of joy rent the heavens from the
surrounding multitudes.

Such are the flowers which may be gathered, by every hand, in every part
of this garden of eloquence. But having thus freely mentioned our
author's faults, it remains that we acknowledge his merit; and confess,
that this book is the work of a man of letters, that it is full of
events displayed with accuracy, and related with vivacity; and though it
is sufficiently defective to crush the vanity of its author, it is
sufficiently entertaining to invite readers.




REVIEW OF FOUR LETTERS FROM SIR ISAAC NEWTON TO DR BENTLEY,

Containing some arguments in proof of a Deity [4].


It will certainly be required, that notice should be taken of a book,
however small, written on such a subject, by such an author. Yet I know
not whether these letters will be very satisfactory; for they are
answers to inquiries not published; and, therefore, though they contain
many positions of great importance, are, in some parts, imperfect and
obscure, by their reference to Dr. Bentley's letters.

Sir Isaac declares, that what he has done is due to nothing but industry
and patient thought; and, indeed, long consideration is so necessary in
such abstruse inquiries, that it is always dangerous to publish the
productions of great men, which are not known to have been designed for
the press, and of which it is uncertain, whether much patience and
thought have been bestowed upon them. The principal question of these
letters gives occasion to observe, how even the mind of Newton gains
ground, gradually, upon darkness.

"As to your first query," says he, "it seems to me, that if the matter
of our sun and planets, and all the matter of the universe, were evenly
scattered, throughout all the heavens, and every particle had an innate
gravity towards all the rest, and the whole space, throughout which this
matter was scattered, was but finite, the matter on the outside of this
space would, by its gravity, tend towards all the matter on the inside,
and, by consequence, fall down into the middle of the whole space, and
there compose one great spherical mass. But if the matter was evenly
disposed throughout an infinite space, it could never convene into one
mass, but some of it would convene into one mass, and some into another,
so as to make an infinite number of great masses, scattered, at great
distances, from one to another, throughout all that infinite space. And
thus might the sun and fixed stars be formed, supposing the matter were
of a lucid nature. But how the matter should divide itself into two
sorts, and that part of it, which is fit to compose a shining body,
should fall down into one mass, and make a sun, and the rest, which is
fit to compose an opaque body, should coalesce, not into one great body,
like the shining matter, but into many little ones; or, if the sun, at
first, were an opaque body, like the planets, or the planets lucid
bodies, like the sun, how he alone should be changed into a shining
body, whilst all they continue opaque, or all they be changed into
opaque ones, whilst he remains unchanged, I do not think more explicable
by mere natural causes, but am forced to ascribe it to the counsel and
contrivance of a voluntary agent. "

The hypothesis of matter evenly disposed through infinite space, seems
to labour with such difficulties, as makes it almost a contradictory
supposition, or a supposition destructive of itself.

"Matter evenly disposed through infinite space," is either created or
eternal; if it was created, it infers a creator; if it was eternal, it
had been from eternity "evenly spread through infinite space;" or it had
been once coalesced in masses, and, afterwards, been diffused. Whatever
state was first must have been from eternity, and what had been from
eternity could not be changed, but by a cause beginning to act, as it
had never acted before, that is, by the voluntary act of some external
power. If matter, infinitely and evenly diffused, was a moment without
coalition, it could never coalesce at all by its own power. If matter
originally tended to coalesce, it could never be evenly diffused through
infinite space. Matter being supposed eternal, there never was a time,
when it could be diffused before its conglobation, or conglobated before
its diffusion.

This sir Isaac seems, by degrees, to have understood; for he says, in
his second letter: "The reason why matter, evenly scattered through a
finite space, would convene in the midst, you conceive the same with me;
but, that there should be a central particle, so accurately placed in
the middle, as to be always equally attracted on all sides, and,
thereby, continue without motion, seems to me a supposition fully as
hard as to make the sharpest needle stand upright upon its point on a
looking-glass. For, if the very mathematical centre of the central
particle be not accurately in the very mathematical centre of the
attractive power of the whole mass, the particle will not be attracted
equally on all sides. And much harder is it to suppose all the
particles, in an infinite space, should be so accurately poised, one
among another, as to stand still in a perfect equilibrium. For I reckon
this as hard as to make not one needle only, but an infinite number of
them, (so many as there are particles in an infinite space,) stand
accurately poised upon their points. Yet I grant it possible, at least,
by a divine power; and, if they were once to be placed, I agree with
you, that they would continue in that posture without motion, for ever,
unless put into new motion by the same power. When, therefore, I said,
that matter evenly spread through all space, would convene, by its
gravity, into one or more great masses, I understand it of matter not
resting in an accurate poise. "

Let not it be thought irreverence to this great name, if I observe, that
by "matter evenly spread" through infinite space, he now finds it
necessary to mean "matter not evenly spread. " Matter not evenly spread
will, indeed, convene, but it will convene as soon as it exists. And, in
my opinion, this puzzling question about matter, is only, how that could
be that never could have been, or what a man thinks on when he thinks on
nothing.

Turn matter on all sides, make it eternal, or of late production, finite
or infinite, there can be no regular system produced, but by a voluntary
and meaning agent. This the great Newton always asserted, and this he
asserts in the third letter; but proves, in another manner, in a manner,
perhaps, more happy and conclusive.

"The hypothesis of deriving the frame of the world, by mechanical
principles, from matter evenly spread through the heavens, being
inconsistent with my system, I had considered it very little, before
your letter put me upon it, and, therefore, trouble you with a line or
two more about it, if this comes not too late for your use.

"In my former, I represented, that the diurnal rotations of the planets
could not be derived from gravity, but required a divine arm to impress
them. And though gravity might give the planets a motion of descent
towards the sun, either directly, or with some little obliquity, yet the
transverse motions, by which they revolve in their several orbs,
required the divine arm to impress them, according to the tangents of
their orbs. I would now add, that the hypothesis of matter's being, at
first, evenly spread through the heavens, is, in my opinion,
inconsistent with the hypothesis of innate gravity, without a
supernatural power to reconcile them, and, therefore, it infers a deity.
For, if there be innate gravity, it is impossible now for the matter of
the earth, and all the planets and stars, to fly up from them, and
become evenly spread throughout all the heavens, without a supernatural
power; and, certainly, that which can never be hereafter, without a
supernatural power, could never be heretofore, without the same power. "




REVIEW OF A JOURNAL OF EIGHT DAYS' JOURNEY,

From Portsmouth to Kingston upon Thames, through Southampton, Wiltshire,
&c. with miscellaneous thoughts, moral and religious; in sixty-four
letters: addressed to two ladies of the partie. To which is added, an
Essay On Tea, considered as pernicious to health, obstructing industry,
and impoverishing the nation; with an account of its growth, and great
consumption in these kingdoms; with several political reflections; and
thoughts on publick love: in thirty-two letters to two ladies. By Mr. H.
-----.

[From the Literary Magazine, vol. ii. No. xiii. 1757. ]


Our readers may, perhaps, remember, that we gave them a short account of
this book, with a letter, extracted from it, in November, 1756. The
author then sent us an injunction, to forbear his work, till a second
edition should appear: this prohibition was rather too magisterial; for
an author is no longer the sole master of a book, which he has given to
the publick; yet he has been punctually obeyed; we had no desire to
offend him; and, if his character may be estimated by his book, he is a
man whose failings may well be pardoned for his virtues.

The second edition is now sent into the world, corrected and enlarged,
and yielded up, by the author, to the attacks of criticism. But he shall
find in us, no malignity of censure. We wish, indeed, that, among other
corrections, he had submitted his pages to the inspection of a
grammarian, that the elegancies of one line might not have been
disgraced by the improprieties of another; but, with us, to mean well is
a degree of merit, which overbalances much greater errours than impurity
of style.

We have already given, in our collections, one of the letters, in which
Mr. Hanway endeavours to show, that the consumption of tea is injurious
to the interest of our country. We shall now endeavour to follow him,
regularly, through all his observations on this modern luxury; but, it
can scarcely be candid not to make a previous declaration, that he is to
expect little justice from the author of this extract, a hardened and
shameless tea-drinker, who has, for twenty years, diluted his meals with
only the infusion of this fascinating plant; whose kettle has scarcely
time to cool; who with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the
midnight, and, with tea, welcomes the morning.

He begins by refuting a popular notion, that bohea and green tea are
leaves of the same shrub, gathered at different times of the year. He is
of opinion, that they are produced by different shrubs. The leaves of
tea are gathered in dry weather; then dried and curled over the fire, in
copper pans. The Chinese use little green tea, imagining, that it
hinders digestion, and excites fevers. How it should have either effect,
is not easily discovered; and, if we consider the innumerable
prejudices, which prevail concerning our own plants, we shall very
little regard these opinions of the Chinese vulgar, which experience
does not confirm.

When the Chinese drink tea, they infuse it slightly, and extract only
the more volatile parts; but though this seems to require great
quantities at a time, yet the author believes, perhaps, only because he
has an inclination to believe it, that the English and Dutch use more
than all the inhabitants of that extensive empire. The Chinese drink it,
sometimes, with acids, seldom with sugar; and this practice our author,
who has no intention to find anything right at home, recommends to his
countrymen.

The history of the rise and progress of tea-drinking is truly curious.
Tea was first imported, from Holland, by the earls of Arlington and
Ossory, in 1666; from their ladies the women of quality learned its use.
Its price was then three pounds a pound, and continued the same to 1707.
In 1715, we began to use green tea, and the practice of drinking it
descended to the lower class of the people. In 1720, the French began to
send it hither by a clandestine commerce. From 1717 to 1726, we
imported, annually, seven hundred thousand pounds. From 1732 to 1742, a
million and two hundred thousand pounds were every year brought to
London; in some years afterwards three millions; and in 1755, near four
millions of pounds, or two thousand tons, in which we are not to reckon
that which is surreptitiously introduced, which, perhaps, is nearly as
much. Such quantities are, indeed, sufficient to alarm us; it is, at
least, worth inquiry, to know what are the qualities of such a plant,
and what the consequences of such a trade.

He then proceeds to enumerate the mischiefs of tea, and seems willing to
charge upon it every mischief that he can find. He begins, however, by
questioning the virtues ascribed to it, and denies that the crews of the
Chinese ships are preserved, in their voyage homewards, from the scurvy
by tea. About this report I have made some inquiry, and though I cannot
find that these crews are wholly exempt from scorbutick maladies, they
seem to suffer them less than other mariners, in any course of equal
length. This I ascribe to the tea, not as possessing any medicinal
qualities, but as tempting them to drink more water, to dilute their
salt food more copiously, and, perhaps, to forbear punch, or other
strong liquors.

He then proceeds, in the pathetick strain, to tell the ladies how, by
drinking tea, they injure their health, and, what is yet more dear,
their beauty.

"To what can we ascribe the numerous complaints which prevail? How many
sweet creatures of your sex languish with a weak digestion, low spirits,
lassitudes, melancholy, and twenty disorders, which, in spite of the
faculty, have yet no names, except the general one of nervous
complaints? Let them change their diet, and, among other articles, leave
off drinking tea, it is more than probable, the greatest part of them
will be restored to health. "

"Hot water is also very hurtful to the teeth. The Chinese do not drink
their tea so hot as we do, and yet they have bad teeth. This cannot be
ascribed entirely to sugar, for they use very little, as already
observed; but we all know, that hot or cold things, which pain the
teeth, destroy them also. If we drank less tea, and used gentle acids
for the gums and teeth, particularly sour oranges, though we had a less
number of French dentists, I fancy this essential part of beauty would
be much better preserved.

"The women in the United Provinces, who sip tea from morning till night,
are also as remarkable for bad teeth. They also look pallid, and many
are troubled with certain feminine disorders, arising from a relaxed
habit. The Portuguese ladies, on the other hand, entertain with
sweetmeats, and yet they have very good teeth; but their food, in
general, is more of a farinaceous and vegetable kind than ours. They
also drink cold water, instead of sipping hot, and never taste any
fermented liquors; for these reasons, the use of sugar does not seem to
be at all pernicious to them. "

"Men seem to have lost their stature and comeliness, and women their
beauty. I am not young, but, methinks, there is not quite so much beauty
in this land as there was. Your very chambermaids have lost their bloom,
I suppose, by sipping tea. Even the agitations of the passions at cards
are not so great enemies to female charms. What Shakespeare ascribes to
the concealment of love, is, in this age, more frequently occasioned by
the use of tea. "

To raise the fright still higher, he quotes an account of a pig's tail,
scalded with tea, on which, however, he does not much insist.

Of these dreadful effects, some are, perhaps, imaginary, and some may
have another cause. That there is less beauty in the present race of
females, than in those who entered the world with us, all of us are
inclined to think, on whom beauty has ceased to smile; but our fathers
and grandfathers made the same complaint before us; and our posterity
will still find beauties irresistibly powerful.

That the diseases, commonly called nervous, tremours, fits, habitual
depression, and all the maladies which proceed from laxity and debility,
are more frequent than in any former time, is, I believe, true, however
deplorable. But this new race of evils will not be expelled by the
prohibition of tea. This general languor is the effect of general
luxury, of general idleness. If it be most to be found among
tea-drinkers, the reason is, that tea is one of the stated amusements of
the idle and luxurious. The whole mode of life is changed; every kind of
voluntary labour, every exercise that strengthened the nerves, and
hardened the muscles, is fallen into disuse. The inhabitants are crowded
together in populous cities, so that no occasion of life requires much
motion; every one is near to all that he wants; and the rich and
delicate seldom pass from one street to another, but in carriages of
pleasure. Yet we eat and drink, or strive to eat and drink, like the
hunters and huntresses, the farmers and the housewives, of the former
generation; and they that pass ten hours in bed, and eight at cards, and
the greater part of the other six at the table, are taught to impute to
tea all the diseases which a life, unnatural in all its parts, may
chance to bring upon them.

Tea, among the greater part of those who use it most, is drunk in no
great quantity. As it neither exhilarates the heart, nor stimulates the
palate, it is commonly an entertainment merely nominal, a pretence for
assembling to prattle, for interrupting business, or diversifying
idleness. They, who drink one cup, and, who drink twenty, are equally
punctual in preparing or partaking it; and, indeed, there are few but
discover, by their indifference about it, that they are brought together
not by the tea, but the tea-table. Three cups make the common quantity,
so slightly impregnated, that, perhaps, they might be tinged with the
Athenian cicuta, and produce less effects than these letters charge upon
tea.

Our author proceeds to show yet other bad qualities of this hated leaf.

"Green tea, when made strong, even by infusion, is an emetick; nay, I am
told, it is used as such in China; a decoction of it certainly performs
this operation; yet, by long use, it is drunk by many without such an
effect. The infusion also, when it is made strong, and stands long to
draw the grosser particles, will convulse the bowels: even in the manner
commonly used, it has this effect on some constitutions, as I have
already remarked to you from my own experience.

"You see I confess my weakness without reserve; but those who are very
fond of tea, if their digestion is weak, and they find themselves
disordered, they generally ascribe it to any cause, except the true one.
I am aware that the effect, just mentioned, is imputed to the hot water;
let it be so, and my argument is still good: but who pretends to say, it
is not partly owing to particular kinds of tea? perhaps, such as partake
of copperas, which, there is cause to apprehend, is sometimes the case:
if we judge from the manner in which it is said to be cured, together
with its ordinary effects, there is some foundation for this opinion.
Put a drop of strong tea, either green or bohea, but chiefly the former,
on the blade of a knife, though it is not corrosive, in the same manner
as vitriol, yet there appears to be a corrosive quality in it, very
different from that of fruit, which stains the knife. "

He afterwards quotes Paulli, to prove, that tea is a "desiccative, and
ought not to be used after the fortieth year. " I have, then, long
exceeded the limits of permission, but I comfort myself, that all the
enemies of tea cannot be in the right. If tea be a desiccative,
according to Paulli, it cannot weaken the fibres, as our author
imagines; if it be emetick, it must constringe the stomach, rather than
relax it.

The formidable quality of tinging the knife, it has in common with
acorns, the bark, and leaves of oak, and every astringent bark or leaf:
the copperas, which is given to the tea, is really in the knife. Ink may
be made of any ferruginous matter, and astringent vegetable, as it is
generally made of galls and copperas.

From tea, the writer digresses to spirituous liquors, about which he
will have no controversy with the Literary Magazine; we shall,
therefore, insert almost his whole letter, and add to it one testimony,
that the mischiefs arising, on every side, from this compendious mode of
drunkenness, are enormous and insupportable; equally to be found among
the great and the mean; filling palaces with disquiet, and distraction,
harder to be borne, as it cannot be mentioned; and overwhelming
multitudes with incurable diseases, and unpitied poverty.

"Though tea and gin have spread their baneful influence over this
island, and his majesty's other dominions, yet, you may be well assured,
that the governors of the Foundling Hospital will exert their utmost
skill and vigilance, to prevent the children, under their care, from
being poisoned, or enervated by one or the other. This, however, is not
the case of workhouses: it is well known, to the shame of those who are
charged with the care of them, that gin has been too often permitted to
enter their gates;--and the debauched appetites of the people, who
inhabit these houses, has been urged as a reason for it.

"Desperate diseases require desperate remedies: if laws are rigidly
executed against murderers in the highway, those who provide a draught
of gin, which we see is murderous, ought not to be countenanced. I am
now informed, that in certain hospitals, where the number of the sick
used to be about 5600 in 14 years,

From 1704 to 1718, they increased to 8189;
From 1718 to 1734, still augmented to 12,710;
And from 1734 to 1749, multiplied to 38,147.

"What a dreadful spectre does this exhibit! nor must we wonder, when
satisfactory evidence was given, before the great council of the nation,
that near eight millions of gallons of distilled spirits, at the
standard it is commonly reduced to for drinking, was actually consumed
annually in drams! the shocking difference in the numbers of the sick,
and, we may presume, of the dead also, was supposed to keep pace with
gin; and the most ingenious and unprejudiced physicians ascribed it to
this cause. What is to be done under these melancholy circumstances?
shall we still countenance the distillery, for the sake of the revenue;
out of tenderness to the few, who will suffer by its being abolished;
for fear of the madness of the people; or that foreigners will run it in
upon us? There can be no evil so great as that we now suffer, except the
making the same consumption, and paying for it to foreigners in money,
which I hope never will be the case.

"As to the revenue, it certainly may be replaced by taxes upon the
necessaries of life, even upon the bread we eat, or, in other words,
upon the land, which is the great source of supply to the public, and to
individuals. Nor can I persuade myself, but that the people may be
weaned from the habit of poisoning themselves. The difficulty of
smuggling a bulky liquid, joined to the severity which ought to be
exercised towards smugglers, whose illegal commerce is of so infernal a
nature, must, in time, produce the effect desired. Spirituous liquors
being abolished, instead of having the most undisciplined and abandoned
poor, we might soon boast a race of men, temperate, religious, and
industrious, even to a proverb. We should soon see the ponderous burden
of the poor's rate decrease, and the beauty and strength of the land
rejuvenate. Schools, workhouses, and hospitals, might then be sufficient
to clear our streets of distress and misery, which never will be the
case, whilst the love of poison prevails, and the means of ruin is sold
in above one thousand houses in the city of London, in two thousand two
hundred in Westminster, and one thousand nine hundred and thirty in
Holborn and St. Giles's.

"But if other uses still demand liquid fire, I would really propose,
that it should be sold only in quart bottles, sealed up, with the king's
seal, with a very high duty, and none sold without being mixed with a
strong emetic.

"Many become objects of charity by their intemperance, and this excludes
others, who are such by the unavoidable accidents of life, or who
cannot, by any means, support themselves. Hence it appears, that the
introducing new habits of life, is the most substantial charity; and
that the regulation of charity-schools, hospitals, and workhouses, not
the augmentation of their number, can make them answer the wise ends,
for which they were instituted.

"The children of beggars should be also taken from them, and bred up to
labour, as children of the public. Thus the distressed might be
relieved, at a sixth part of the present expense; the idle be compelled
to work or starve; and the mad be sent to Bedlam. We should not see
human nature disgraced by the aged, the maimed, the sickly, and young
children, begging their bread; nor would compassion be abused by those,
who have reduced it to an art to catch the unwary. Nothing is wanting
but common sense and honesty in the execution of laws.

"To prevent such abuse in the streets, seems more practicable than to
abolish bad habits within doors, where greater numbers perish. We see,
in many familiar instances, the fatal effects of example. The careless
spending of time among servants, who are charged with the care of
infants, is often fatal: the nurse frequently destroys the child! the
poor infant, being left neglected, expires whilst she is sipping her
tea! This may appear to you as rank prejudice, or jest; but, I am
assured, from the most indubitable evidence, that many very
extraordinary cases of this kind have really happened, among those whose
duty does not permit of such kind of habits.

"It is partly from such causes, that nurses of the children of the
public often forget themselves, and become impatient when infants cry;
the next step to this is using extraordinary means to quiet them. I have
already mentioned the term killing nurse, as known in some workhouses:
Venice treacle, poppy water, and Godfrey's cordial, have been the kind
instruments of lulling the child to his everlasting rest. If these pious
women could send up an ejaculation, when the child expired, all was
well, and no questions asked by the superiors. An ingenious friend of
mine informs me, that this has been so often the case, in some
workhouses, that Venice treacle has acquired the appellation of 'the
Lord have mercy upon me,' in allusion to the nurses' hackneyed
expression of pretended grief, when infants expire! Farewell. "

I know not upon what observation Mr. Hanway founds his confidence in the
governours of the Foundling Hospital, men of whom I have not any
knowledge, but whom I entreat to consider a little the minds, as well as
bodies, of the children. I am inclined to believe irreligion equally
pernicious with gin and tea, and, therefore, think it not unseasonable
to mention, that, when, a few months ago, I wandered through the
hospital, I found not a child that seemed to have heard of his creed, or
the commandments. To breed up children in this manner, is to rescue them
from an early grave, that they may find employment for the gibbet; from
dying in innocence, that they may perish by their crimes.

Having considered the effects of tea upon the health of the drinker,
which, I think, he has aggravated in the vehemence of his zeal, and
which, after soliciting them by this watery luxury, year after year, I
have not yet felt, he proceeds to examine, how it may be shown to affect
our interest; and first calculates the national loss, by the time spent
in drinking tea. I have no desire to appear captious, and shall,
therefore, readily admit, that tea is a liquor not proper for the lower
classes of the people, as it supplies no strength to labour, or relief
to disease, but gratifies the taste, without nourishing the body. It is
a barren superfluity, to which those who can hardly procure what nature
requires, cannot prudently habituate themselves. Its proper use is to
amuse the idle, and relax the studious, and dilute the full meals of
those who cannot use exercise, and will not use abstinence. That time is
lost in this insipid entertainment cannot be denied; many trifle away,
at the tea-table, those moments which would be better spent; but that
any national detriment can be inferred from this waste of time, does not
evidently appear, because I know not that any work remains undone, for
want of hands. Our manufactures seem to be limited, not by the
possibility of work, but by the possibility of sale.

His next argument is more clear. He affirms, that one hundred and fifty
thousand pounds, in silver, are paid to the Chinese, annually, for three
millions of pounds of tea, and, that for two millions more, brought
clandestinely from the neighbouring coasts, we pay, at twenty-pence a
pound, one hundred sixty-six thousand six hundred and sixty-six pounds.
The author justly conceives, that this computation will waken us; for,
says he: "the loss of health, the loss of time, the injury of morals,
are not very sensibly felt by some, who are alarmed when you talk of the
loss of money. " But he excuses the East India company, as men not
obliged to be political arithmeticians, or to inquire so much, what the
nation loses, as how themselves may grow rich. It is certain, that they,
who drink tea, have no right to complain of those that import it; but if
Mr. Hanway's computation be just, the importation, and the use of it,
ought, at once, to be stopped by a penal law.

The author allows one slight argument in favour of tea, which, in my
opinion, might be, with far greater justice, urged both against that and
many other parts of our naval trade. "The tea-trade employs," he tells
us, "six ships, and five or six hundred seamen, sent annually to China.
It, likewise, brings in a revenue of three hundred and sixty thousand
pounds, which, as a tax on luxury, may be considered as of great utility
to the state. " The utility of this tax I cannot find: a tax on luxury is
no better than another tax, unless it hinders luxury, which cannot be
said of the impost upon tea, while it is thus used by the great and the
mean, the rich and the poor. The truth is, that, by the loss of one
hundred and fifty thousand pounds, we procure the means of shifting
three hundred and sixty thousand, at best, only from one hand to
another; but, perhaps, sometimes into hands by which it is not very
honestly employed. Of the five or six hundred seamen, sent to China, I
am told, that sometimes half, commonly a third part, perish in the
voyage; so that, instead of setting this navigation against the
inconveniencies already alleged, we may add to them, the yearly loss of
two hundred men, in the prime of life; and reckon, that the trade of
China has destroyed ten thousand men, since the beginning of this
century.

If tea be thus pernicious, if it impoverishes our country, if it raises
temptation, and gives opportunity to illicit commerce, which I have
always looked on, as one of the strongest evidences of the inefficacy
of our law, the weakness of our government, and the corruption of our
people, let us, at once, resolve to prohibit it for ever.

"If the question was, how to promote industry most advantageously, in
lieu of our tea-trade, supposing every branch of our commerce to be
already fully supplied with men and money? If a quarter the sum, now
spent in tea, were laid out, annually, in plantations, in making public
gardens, in paving and widening streets, in making roads, in rendering
rivers navigable, erecting palaces, building' bridges, or neat and
convenient houses, where are now only huts; draining lands, or rendering
those, which are now barren, of some use; should we not be gainers, and
provide more for health, pleasure, and long life, compared with the
consequences of the tea-trade? "

Our riches would be much better employed to these purposes; but if this
project does not please, let us first resolve to save our money, and we
shall, afterwards, very easily find ways to spend it.




REPLY TO A PAPER IN THE GAZETTEER OF MAY 26, 1757 [5].


It is observed, in Le Sage's Gil Bias, that an exasperated author is not
easily pacified. I have, therefore, very little hope of making my peace
with the writer of the Eight Days' Journey; indeed so little, that I
have long deliberated, whether I should not rather sit silently down,
under his displeasure, than aggravate my misfortune, by a defence, of
which my heart forbodes the ill success. Deliberation is often useless.
I am afraid, that I have, at last, made the wrong choice, and that I
might better have resigned my cause, without a struggle, to time and
fortune, since I shall run the hazard of a new oifence, by the necessity
of asking him, why he is angry.

Distress and terrour often discover to us those faults, with which we
should never have reproached ourselves in a happy state. Yet, dejected
as I am, when I review the transaction between me and this writer, I
cannot find, that I have been deficient in reverence. When his book was
first printed, he hints, that I procured a sight of it before it was
published. How the sight of it was procured, I do not now very exactly
remember; but, if my curiosity was greater than my prudence, if I laid
rash hands on the fatal volume, I have surely suffered, like him who
burst the box, from which evil rushed into the world.

I took it, however, and inspected it, as the work of an author not
higher than myself; and was confirmed in my opinion, when I found, that
these letters were _not written to be printed_. I concluded, however,
that, though not _written_ to be _printed_, they were _printed_ to be
_read_, and inserted one of them in the collection of November last. Not
many days after, I received a note, informing me, that I ought to have
waited for a more correct edition. This injunction was obeyed. The
edition appeared, and I supposed myself at liberty to tell my thoughts
upon it, as upon any other book, upon a royal manifesto, or an act of
parliament. But see the fate of ignorant temerity! I now find, but find
too late, that, instead of a writer, whose only power is in his pen, I
have irritated an important member of an important corporation; a man,
who, as he tells us in his letters, puts horses to his chariot.

It was allowed to the disputant of old to yield up the controversy, with
little resistance, to the master of forty legions. Those who know how
weakly naked truth can defend her advocates, would forgive me, if I
should pay the same respect to a governour of the foundlings.