et nefasto," &c. is likewise very happy. He has explained innumerable passages, which defied former editors, and drawn forth latent beauties in several verses, by slight changes in the punctuation, equally judicious and acute. Dr. Hare gave the following character of Bentley's edition of Horace "When I consider how small a book Horace is, how much he has been the delight and admiration of the learned at all times, what pains the ablest criticks have taken with him, and that if others have done nothing, it seems to be for no other reason but that they thought there was nothing left for them; when I make these reflections, and consider on the other hand what one man has been able to do, after so many great names, who had the use of no manuscripts but what seemed already to have been exhausted, and wanted many of the best, it is hard to say, whether the pleasure or the admiration were the greater with which I read this incomparable work. A man must have very little acquaintance with the ancients, or have no taste for their writings, who can forbear greatly admiring, or being greatly pleased with a performance,where in exactness and perspicuity, life, spirit, beauty, and order are restored to so many places which were before corrupted, or misplaced, or obscured, for want of being rightly read, or truly understood: for want of an emendation of the text, or of knowing the history or custom pointed at, or the passages of the Greek poets, which Horace directly imitated, or the more secret allusions, which he was above all the Latins happy in." . In 1713 a new edition of Bentley's Horace was published by the Wetsteins, at Amsterdam. They procured a corrected copy from the Doctor, removed the notes from the end, and placed them under the text, in which they inserted all the additional corrections. They likewise added the verbal index of Horace, which Aveman had compiled with great labour; and the emendations of Bentley, and several important quotations incorporated into it by Isaac Verburg, who was afterwards well known as the editor of Cicero. By these judicious improvements, the Dutch edition is rendered far superiour to that published at Cambridge. It was the fate of Bentley to be constantly baited by his enemies, who were more numerous than powerful. The first literary character, perhaps, of this age remarked, that "Abuse was only the rebound of praise ;" and, indeed, it is vain to censure those whom none commend. The merit of this great critick roused the envy of the half learned, who gave full scope to their malignity. In 1718 came out "The Odes of Horace, in Latin and English; with a translation of Dr. Bentley's notes, to which are added notes upon notes; done in the Bentleian style and manner." A translation of the dedication, preface, epodes, and life of Horace by Suetonius, were afterwards published to complete this work, which appeared in twenty-four parts, and forms two volumes. The Odes are translated into English verse by different authors, and in some of them there is poetry and elegance in the version. In the notes upon notes there is a greater display of wit and pleasantry, than of criticism. Bentley's remarks are abridged, and the authorities which he has cited are sometimes quoted by reference, and sometimes suppressed. The language of the translated notes is coarse and vulgar, and that of the notes upon notes is not more ele gant. We do not think that the authors of this publication were ever discovered. It is not, indeed, of much consequence who they were, as, in our opinion, they have not executed the design which they proposed in their preface with much spirit or humour. Some of Bentley's notes are arrogant, and several of his corrections are hazardous, but this publication does not seem calculated either by its weight or ingenuity to expose the critick's haughtiness or boldness. The title of Bentivoglio, which is assigned to the Doctor in the first of these notes, was borrowed from the Dialogues of the Dead, which King wrote, during the dispute about Phalaris, in order to ridicule Bentley. (To be continued.) warring materials, that every moment menace explosion and ruin. Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco. THE pursuit of happiness is the grand object of human life, which is generally wasted in striving to attain a phantom that is not found to be illusive, till it is too late to profit by the discovery. Each individual seems happy to the rest, because he who cannot deceive himself, gratifies his vanity by deceiving the rest of society. The superficial observer mistakes the affected simper,the heartless laugh, for that generous cheerfulness of temper, and gaiety of heart, the rarest gifts of heaven. Many of those who seem to join the outward pomp to the inward possess ion of happiness, are consuming life in "splendid misery." Many abandon the idea of being happy, and confine their ambition to appearing so to others. Society seems gay, the surface is decked in the gayest colours; like some of those mountains whose sides are covered with verdure and flowers, but beneath the exteriour crust it is a dreary, confused mixture of That nothing should be wanting to facilitate the grand pursuit, that the simple and unwary should be placed on their guard, rules for the attainment of happiness have been given with as much precision as demonstrations of mathematical problems, with as much variety as receipts for cooking, and as much fashion as modes of dress. Some strive to be happy by rule, and are as successful, as a physician who acts only on theory. Some dread system, and are the sport of every accident; they are driven like a fallen leaf, now aloft in air, now fluttering in the dust, till the fatal blast immerses them in the pool of oblivion. Some have solaced their own discontents, not by describing what are the means of attaining happiness, but by guarding the heedless against some of the errours that occasion failure in the pursuit. Those who are already far advanced in the journey of life, have often warned the crowd who are following, not to entertain too sanguine hopes of the objects on the way, which they behold in the flattering deceptions of perspective, but which those who have passed look back upon with contempt and disappointment. But it is not alone to an extravagant appreciation of the various amusements and employments of life, that we owe our vexations and sufferings; various causes combine to produce that satiety and discontent, which, if concealed by a few, is felt by all. We Among these, one of the most common, fruitful, natural, but inexcusable, is a wrong estimate of the character of our friends. In despite of experience, we are constantly forming calculations, which we know will be falsified. fret to-day for what vexed us yesterday; and our feelings have been wounded in the very same manner they have been a thousand times before. Yet we shall repeat to-morrow the same faults, and nourish peevishness and mortification, because we still calculate upon what men ought to be, not on what they are. While the sinews of the mind, as well as those of the body, are yet flexible, before age and habit have moulded the temper of the one, or the carriage of the other; it is laudable to inculcate every generous and virtuous precept, to confer every exteriour grace and polish that will make the possessor useful and beloved. But when ed ucation has completed her task, when moral and physical habits are formed, and the characteristick marks are so strongly impressed, that time will only stiffen and confirm them, then we should be contented with what education has ac complished, and not weakly repine that it has atchieved no more. After the character has once acquired its tone, and intercourse with society has raised or depressed it to the capacity and disposition of the individual; the attempt to change it would be no less absurd, than to see those whose persons are stiffened by age, attempt to acquire, from the skill of a dancing master, the flexible movements and graceful positions that can only be attained when the limbs are pliable, and the blood frolicks in the veins. Should every one reflect, what a large portion of those little sorrows and vexations, that fritter away existence, would be obviated by expecting no more from those about us, than what their character authorizes, he would endeavour to correct his expectations, and chastise his wishes. Yet I have known persons, who for thirty years have calculated upon qualities in others, which the experience of the same period had too frequently convinced them did not exist, and were perpetually hoping for opinions and actions, which a little reflection would have convinced them they had no right to expect. Every man has some virtues, no one but who has many faults. It would be infatuation to expect from Iulus the strength of Entellus. Let us rejoice then in the good qualities of our friends, and excuse their faults; and if we strictly guard against expecting from them talents and feelings which we know they do not possess, we shall dry up one copious source of disappointment and vexation. RACINE'S BRITANNICUS. Translated for the Anthology from the Cours de Literature of La Harpe. GENIUS is brilliant from its Such was the treatment received by the author of Andromache. They opposed him at first to Corneille; and this was great praise, if we recollect the admiration, so just and so profound, which must have been inspired by the author of the Cid, of Cinna, and the Horaces, until that time without a rival, master of the field, and surrounded with his trophies. The personal enemies of this great man saw, no doubt with pleasure, a young poet arising, who promised Vol. III. No. 7. 2U to divide France, and share in her successes. It is easily conceived, how much a success like that of Andromache must have excited the jealousy of all who aspired to glory in the same career. To that numerous party of inferiour writers, who, without loving one another and without harmonizing in any thing else, always combine as it were by instinct against talents that threaten them, were united that species of men, who, transported by an exclusive enthusiam, had declared that Corneille never would be e qualled, and who were determined that Racine should not dare to give them the lie. Add to all these interests against him that secret disposition which, in its foundation, is not wholly unjust, and which inclines us to proportion the severity of our judgments to the merit of the man who is to be judged. Such were the obstacles which opposed Racine after Andromache appeared, and when Britannicus was presented, envy was under arms. Envy, that passion so odious and so vile that it is never pitied miserable as it is, never breaks out with more fury than in the contentions of the theatre. It is there that it encounters talents in all the splendour of its powers. It is there that it loves to combat eminence; it is there that it attacks it with so much the greater advantage, that it can conceal the hand that strikes the blow. Confounded in a tumultuous crowd, it is not obliged to blush. It has moreover so little to do, and the theatrical, enthusiasm is so feeble and so easily disturbed, the judgments of men there assembled are dependent on so many circumstances, over which the author has no control, and are decided by motives sometimes so trifling that, whenever a party has been formed against a good dramatick work, the success of it has been impeded or retarded. Examples are not wanting; but if I had only that of Britannicus, abandoned in its first representation, would not this be sufficient? We see by the preface which the author placed at the head of the first edition of his piece, that he warmly resented this injustice. It is but too customary to allege this kind of sensibility, as a crime in men of talents, although there is none perhaps more excusable, or more natural. No doubt there would be much philosophy in detaching ourselves entirely from our works the moment we have composed them; but I demand of those, who know a little of the human heart, how this cold indif ference can be compatible with that divinity of imagination, which is necessary to produce a good tragedy? To require things so contrary is to be as reasonable as the woman in La Fontaine, who wanted a husband neither cold nor jealous. The fabulist judiciously adds, "Mark well these two points." I know the vulgar objection,that an author cannot judge himself. No, to be sure, not when a work ་ comes first out of his hands; and indeed at no other time, if he is but an ordinary man: in this case he is no more capable of judging,than of writing well he sees no excellence beyond what he has reached. But experience proves, that, after the moment of composition, a man of superiour talents and information can judge himself, as well and even better than any other. I shall produce very striking proofs of this, when I come to speak of Vol. taire. At present all that I require is, that we pardon Racine for having had reason to be angry, when his judges were in the wrong to condemn him. The publick soon recovered from its errour; Britannicus remained in possession of the stage; and Racine, in an edition of his collected works, suppressed his first preface. We readily pardon injustice, when it is repaired. He had not however forgotten it: this is manifest from the manner, in which he expresses himself concerning the fortune of this trag edy. "You see here, of all my pieces, that on which, I can truly say, I have laboured with the greatest care. Nevertheless I acknowledge, that the success of it at first was not answerable to my hopes. It had scarcely appeared upon the stage, when there arose a host of criticks, who threatened its destruction. I thought indeed that its destiny would be less hap py, than that of my other tragedies; but finally it happened to this piece, as it will always to works that have some merit....the criticks have disappeared, and the piece remains. It is at this time, of all my productions, that which the court and the city see repeated with the most satisfaction; and if I have done any thing which has any solidity, and which merits any praise, the greatest part of the bes |