no stain appeared on any part of the faithful mirror. As when the large, unwritten page presents its snowy spotless bosom to the writer's hand: so appeared the glass to my view. Here, O ye daughters of English ancestors, cried I, turn hither and behold an object worthy immitation; look upon the mirror now, and acknowledge its justice, and this woman's pre-eminence! the ladies obeying the summons, came up in a group, and looking on, acknowledged there was some truth in the picture, as the person now represented had been deaf, dumb, and a fool from her cradle. Thus much of my dream I distinctly remember, the rest was filled with chimeras, enchanted castles, and flying dragons as usual. As you, my dear Fum Hoam, are particularly versed in the interpretation of those midnight warnings, what pleasure should I find in your explanation: but that our distance prevents; I make no doubt, however, but that from my description you will very much venerate the good qualities of the English ladies in neral, since dreams, you know, go always by conAdieu. traries. ge LETTER XLVI. From Lien Chi Altangi to Hingpo, a slave in Persia*. YOUR last letters betray a mind seemingly fond of wisdom, yet tempested up by a thousand various passions. You would fondly persuade me that my * This letter appears to be little more than a rhapsody of sentiments from Confucius. Vid. the Latin translation. former former lessons still influence your conduct, and yet your mind seems not less enslaved than your body. Knowledge, wisdom, erudition, arts, and elegance, what are they, but the mere trappings of the mind, if they do not serve to increase the happiness of the possessor? A mind rightly instituted in the school of philosophy, acquires at once the stability of the oak, and the flexibility of the osier. The truest manner of lessening our agonies, is to shrink from their pressure; is to confess that we feel them. The fortitude of European sages is but a dream; for where lies the merit in being insensible to the strokes of fortune, or in dissembling our sensibility; if we are insensible, that arises only from an happy constitution that is a blessing previously granted by Heaven, and which no art can procure, no institutions improve. Thus If we dissemble our feelings we only artificially endeavour to persuade others that we enjoy privileges which we actually do not possess. while we endeavour to appear happy, we feel at once all the pangs of internal misery, and all the self-reproaching consciousness of endeavouring to deceive. I know but of two sects of philosophers in the world that have endeavoured to inculcate that fortitude is but an imaginary virtue: I mean the followers of Confucius, and those who profess the doctrines of Christ. All other sects teach pride under misfortunes; they alone teach humility. Night, says our Chinese philosopher, not more surely follows day, than groans and tears grow out of pain; when misfortunes therefore oppress, when tyrants threaten, it is our interest, it is our duty to fly even to dissipation for support, to seek redress from friendship, or seek redress from that best of friends who loved us into being. Phi Philosophers, my son, have long declaimed against the passions, as being the source of all our miseries; they are the source of all our misfortunes I own; but they are the source of our pleasures too; and every endeavour of our lives, and all the institutions of philosophy, should tend to this; not to dissemble an absence of passion, but to repel those which lead to vice, by those which direct to virtue. The soul may be compared to a field of battle, where two armies are ready every moment to encounter; not a single vice but has a more powerful opponent; and not one virtue but may be overborne by a combination of vices. Reason guides the hands of either host, nor can it subdue one passion but by the assistance of another. Thus as a bark on every side beset with storms, enjoys a state of rest, so does the mind, when influenced by a just equipoise of the passions, enjoy tranquility. I have used such means as my little fortune would admit to procure your freedom. I have lately written to the governor of Argun to pay your ransom, though at the expence of all the wealth I brought with me from China. If we become poor we shall at least have the pleasure of bearing poverty together; for what is fatigue or famine, when weighed against friendship and freedom. Adieu. LETTER LETTER XLVII. From Lien Chi Altangi to ******, Merchant in HAPPENING some days ago to call at a painter's to amuse myself in examining some pictures (I had no design to buy) it surprized me to see a young prince in the working room, dressed in a painter's apron, and assiduously learning the trade. We instantly remembered to have seen each other; and, after the usual compliments, I stood by while he continued to paint on. As every thing done by the rich is praised, as princes here, as well as in China, are never without followers, three or four persons, who had the appearance of gentlemen, were placed behind to comfort and applaud him at every stroke. Need I tell, that it struck me with very disagreeable sensations to see a youth who by his station in life, had it in his power to be useful to thousands, thus letting his mind run to waste upon canvas, at the same time fancying himself improving in taste, and filling his rank with proper decorum. As seeing an error, and attempting to redress it, are only one and the same with me, I took occasion, upon his lordship's desiring my opinion of a Chinese scroll, intended for the frame of a picture; to assure him, that a mandarine of China thought a minute acquaintance with such mechanical trifles below his dignity. This reply raised the indignation of some, and the contempt of others: I could hear the names of Vandal, Goth, taste, polite arts, delicacy, and fire, repeated But repeated in tones of ridicule or resentment. considering that it was in vain to argue against people who had so much to say, without contradicting them, I begged leave to repeat a fairy tale. This request redoubled their laughter; but not easily abashed at the raillery of boys, I persisted, observing that it would set the absurdity of placing our affections upon trifles in the strongest point of view, and adding that it was hoped the moral would compensate for its stupidity. For Heaven's sake, cried the great man, washing his brush in water, let us have no morality at present; if we must have a story, let it be without any moral. I pretended not to hear; and while he handled the brush, proceeded as follows: IN the kingdom of Bonbobbin, which, by the Chinese annal, appears to have flourished twenty thousand years ago, there reigned a prince endowed with every accomplishment which generally distinguishes the sons of kings. His beauty was brighter than the sun. The sun to which he was nearly related, would sometimes stop his course in order to look down and admire him. His mind was not less perfect than his body; he knew all things without having ever read; philosophers, poets, and historians submitted their works to his decision; and so penetrating was he, that he could tell the merit of a book by looking on the cover. He made epic poems, tragedies, and pastorals with surprising facility; song, epigram, or rebus was all one to him, though it is observed he could never finish an acrostic. In short, the fairy, who presided at his birth, had endowed him with almost every perfection, or what was just the same, his subjects were ready to acknowledge he possessed them all; and for his own part, he knew no |