defign, the general spirit of the performance, the artifice of connection, or the harmony of the parts; 'they never conceive how small a proportion that which they are bufy in contemplating bears to the whole, or how the petty inaccuracies with which they are offended, are abforbed and loft in general 'excellence.

Others are furnished by criticism with a telescope. They fee with great clearness whatever is too remote to be difcovered by the rest of mankind, but are totally blind to all that lies immediately before them. They discover in every paffage fome secret meaning, some remote allusion, some artful allegory, or fome occult imitation which no other reader ever fufpected; but they have no perception of the cogency of arguments, the force of pathetick fentiments, the various colours of diction, or the flowery embellishments of fancy; of all that engages the attention of others, they are totally infenfible, while they pry into worlds of conjecture, and amuse themselves with phantoms in the clouds.

In criticism, as in every other art, we fail sometimes by our weakness, but more frequently by our fault. We are fometimes bewildered by ignorance, and fometimes by prejudice, but we seldom deviate far from the right, but when we deliver ourselves up to the direction of vanity.

NUMB. 177. TUESDAY, November 26, 1751.

Turpe eft difficiles habere nugas.

Those things which now seem frivolous and flight,

Will be of ferious confequence to you,

MART.

When they have made you once ridiculous. RoscoMMON.

SIR,

To the RAMBLER.

HEN I was, at the ufual time, about to

Wenter upon the profeffion, to which my friends

had deftined me, being fummoned, by the death of my father, into the country, I found myself master of an unexpected fum of money, and of an estate, which though not large, was, in my opinion, fufficient to support me in a condition far preferable to the fatigue, dependance, and uncertainty of any gainful occupation. I therefore refolved to devote the reft of my life wholly to curiofity, and without any confinement of my excurfions, or termination of my views, to wander over the boundless regions of general knowledge.

This scheme of life feemed pregnant with inexhaustible variety, and therefore I could not forbear to congratulate myself upon the wisdom of my choice. I furnished a large room with all conveniencies for study; collected books of every kind; quitted every science at the first perception of difguft; returned to it again as soon as my former ardour happened to

revive; and having no rival to deprefs me by comparifon, nor any critick to alarm me with objec tions, I spent day after day in profound tranquillity, with only fo much complacence in my own improvements, as served to excite and animate my application.

Thus I lived for fome years with complete acquiefcence in my own plan of conduct, rising early to read, and dividing the latter part of the day between economy, exercife, and reflection. But in time, I began to find my mind contracted and ftiffened by folitude. My ease and elegance were fenfibly impaired; I was no longer able to accommodate myself with readiness to the accidental current of conversation; my notions grew particular and paradoxical, and my phraseology formal and unfashionable; I fpoke, on common occafions, the language of books. My quicknefs of apprehenfion, and celerity of reply, had entirely deferted me: when I delivered my opinion, or detailed my knowledge, I was bewildered by an unseasonable interrogatory, difconcerted by any flight opposition, and overwhelmed and loft in dejection, when the smallest advantage was gained against me in difpute. I became decifive and dogmatical, impatient of contradiction, perpetually jealous of my character, infolent to fuch as acknowledged my superiority, and fullen and malignant to all who refused to receive my dictates.

This I foon difcovered to be one of those intellectual diseases which a wife man fhould make hafte to cure. I therefore refolved for a time to fhut my

books,

books, and learn again the art of converfation; to defecate and clear my mind by brifker motions, and stronger impulses; and to unite myself once more to the living generation.

For this purpose I hasted to London, and entreated one of my academical acquaintances, to introduce me into fome of the little focieties of literature, which are formed in taverns and coffee-houses. He was pleased with an opportunity of shewing me to his friends, and foon obtained me admiffion among a felect company of curious men, who met once a week to exhilarate their studies, and compare their acquifitions.

The eldest and most venerable of this fociety was Hirfutus, who, after the firft civilities of my reception, found means to introduce the mention of his favourite ftudies, by a fevere cenfure of those who want the due regard for their native country. He informed me, that he had early withdrawn his attention from foreign trifles, and that fince he begun to addict his mind to serious and manly ftudies, he had very carefully amaffed all the English books that were printed in the black character. This fearch he had purfued fo diligently, that he was able to fhew the deficiencies of the best catalogues. He had long fince completed his Caxton, had three fheets of Treveris unknown to the antiquaries, and wanted to a perfect Pynfon but two volumes, of which one was promifed him as a legacy by its prefent poffeffor, and the other he was refolved to buy, at whatever price, when Quifquilius's library fhould be fold. Hirfutus had

no

no other reason for the valuing or flighting a book, than that it was printed in the Roman or the Gothick letter, nor any ideas but fuch as his favourite volumes had supplied; when he was ferious, he expatiated on the narratives of Johan de Trevifa, and when he was merry, regaled us with a quotation from the Shippe of Foles.

While I was liftening to this hoary ftudent, Ferratus entered in a hurry, and informed us with the abruptness of extafy, that his fet of halfpence was now complete; he had juft received in a handful of change, the piece that he had fo long been seeking, and could now defy mankind to outgo his collection of English copper.

Chartophylax then obferved how fatally human fagacity was fometimes baffled, and how often the moft valuable discoveries are made by chance. He had employed himself and his emiffaries feven years at great expence, to perfect his series of Gazettes, but had long wanted a fingle paper, which, when he despaired of obtaining it, was fent him wrapped round a parcel of tobacco.

Cantilenus turned all his thoughts upon old ballads, for he confidered them as the genuine records of the national tafte. He offered to fhew me a copy of The Children in the Wood, which he firmly believed to be of the first edition, and by the help of which, the text might be freed from several corruptions, if this age of barbarity had any claim to fuch favours from him.

Many were admitted into this fociety as inferior members, because they had collected old prints and

neglected