livered with timidity and hesitation, were overlooked or neglected. Some of the more elderly and discreet among the former seemed to pity me; and I could not help remarking that they often, as if they had meant the hint for me, talked of the advantage to be derived from the perusal of Lord Chesterfield's Letters. To this author, then, as soon as I learned his subject, I had recourse, as to a guide that would point out my way, and support me in my journey. But how much was I astonished, when, through a veil of wit, ridicule, elegant expression, and lively illustration, I discerned a studied system of frivolity, meanness, flattery, and dissimulation, inculcated as the surest and most eligible road to eminence and popularity?

Young as I am, Mr. MIRROR, and heedless as I may consequently be supposed, I cannot think that this work is a code proper for being held up to us as the regulator of our conduct. The talents insisted on with peculiar emphasis, the accomplishments most earnestly recommended, are such as, in our days, if they ought to be treated of at all, should be mentioned only to put us on our guard against them. If riches naturally tend to render trifles of importance; if they direct our attention too much toward exterior accomplishments; if they propagate the courtly and complying spirit too extensively at any rate, we certainly, in this country, so wealthy and luxurious, have no need of exhortations to cultivate or acquire those qualifications. The habits that may arrest for a little time the progress of this corruption ought now to be insisted on. Independence, fortitude, stubborn integrity, and pride that disdains the shadow of servility; these are the virtues which a tutor should inculcate, these the blessings which a fond father should supplicate from Heaven for his offspring.

VOL. I.

R

It is, throughout, the error of his lordship's system, to consider talents and accomplishments according to the use that may be made of them, rather than their intrinsic worth. In this catechism, applause is rectitude, and success is morality. That, in our days, a person may rise to eminence by trivial accomplishments, and become popular by flattery and dissimulation, may, perhaps, be true. But from this it surely does not follow, that these are the means which an honourable character should employ. There is a dignity in the mind which cultivates those arts alone that are valuable, which courts those characters alone that are worthy, which disdains to conceal its own sentiments, or minister to the foibles of others; there is, I say, a conscious dignity and satisfaction in these feelings, which neither applause, nor power, nor popularity, without them, can ever bestow.

Many of his lordship's distinctions are too nice for my faculties. I cannot, for my part, discern the difference between feigned confidence and insincerity; between the conduct that conveys the approbation of a sentiment, or the flattery of a foible, and the words that declare it. I should think the man whose countenance was open, and his thoughts concealed, a hypocrite; I should term him who could treat his friends as if they were at the same time to be his enemies, a monster of ingratitude and duplicity. It is dangerous to trifle thus upon the borders of virtue. By teaching us that it may insensibly be blended with vice, that their respective limits are not in every case evident and certain, our veneration for it is diminished. Its chief safeguard is a jealous sensibility, that startles at the colour or shadow of deceit. When this barrier has been insulted, can any other be opposed at which conscience will arise and proclaim, Thus far, and no farther, shalt thou advance?

The love of general applause, recommended by his lordship, as the great principle of conduct, is a folly and a weakness. He that directs himself by this compass cannot hope to steer through life with steadiness and consistency. He must surrender his own character, and assume the hue of every company he enters. To court the approbation of any one, is, in a tacit manner, to do homage to his judgment or his feelings. He that extends his courtship of it beyond the praise-worthy violates the exclusive privilege of virtue, and must seek it by unworthy

arts.

On the other hand, though I am by no means a friend to rash and unguarded censure, yet I cannot help considering the conduct of him who will censure nothing, who will speak his sentiments of no character with freedom, who palliates every error, and apologizes for every failing, as more nearly allied to meanness, timidity, and a time-serving temper, thàn it is connected with candour, or favourable to the cause of virtue.

Nor can I persuade myself that his lordship's system will be attended with general success. The real character is the only one that can be maintained at all times, and in all dispositions. Professions of friendship and regard will lead to expectations of service that cannot be answered. The sentiments delivered in one company, the manners assumed upon one occasion, will be remembered, and contrasted with those that are presented on another. Suspicion, once awakened, will penetrate the darkest cloud which art can throw around a person in the common intercourse of life.

Let us consider, too, were this system generally adopted, what a dull insipid scene must society become! No distinction, no natural expression of cha

racter; no confidence of professions of any kind; no assurance of sincerity; no secret sympathy, nor delightful correspondence of feeling. All the sallies of wit, all the graces of polite manners, would but ill supply the want of these pleasures, the purest and most elegant which human life affords.

SIR,

EUGENIUS.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MIRROR.

As you treat much of politeness, I wish you would take notice of a particular sort of incivility from which one suffers, without being thought entitled to complain. I mean that of never contradicting one at all.

I have lately come from my father's in the country, where I was reckoned a girl of tolerable parts, to reside for some time at my aunt's in town. Here is a visitor, Mr. Dapperwit, a good-looking young man, with white teeth, a fine complexion, his cheeks dimpled, and rather a little full and large at bottom; in short, the civilest, most complying sort of face you can imagine. As I have often taken notice of his behaviour, I was resolved to minute down his discourse the other evening at tea. The conversation began about the weather, my aunt observing, that the seasons were wonderfully altered in her memory. "Certainly, my lady,' said Mr. Dapperwit, 'amazingly altered indeed.' 'Now I have heard my father say (said I), that is a vulgar error; for that it appears from registers kept for the purpose, that the state of the weather, though it may be different in certain seasons, months, or weeks, preserves a wonderful equilibrium in general.' Why to be sure, miss, I believe in general, as you say; but, talking of the weather, I

hope your ladyship caught no cold at the play t'other night; we were so awkwardly situated in getting out.'- Not in the least, sir; I was greatly obliged to your services there.'-' You were well entertained, I hope, my lady?'- Very well, indeed; I laughed exceedingly; there is a great deal of wit in Shakpeare's comedies; 'tis pity there is so much of low life in them.'-'Your ladyship's criticism is extremely just; every body must be struck with it.'"Why now I think,' said I again, that what you call low life is nature, which I would not lose for all the rest of the play.—' Oh! doubtless, miss; for nature Shakspeare is inimitable, every body must allow that.'

What do you think, sir,' said my cousin Betsy. (who is a piece of a poetess herself), of that monody you were so kind as to send us yesterday?' I never deliver my opinion, ma'am, before so able a judge, till I am first informed of hers.' I think it the most beautiful poem, sir, I have read of a great while. Your opinion, ma'am, flatters me extremely, as it agrees exactly with my own; they are, I think, incontestably the sweetest lines'-'Sweet they may be' (here I broke in): I allow them merit in the versification; but that is only one, and with me by no means the chief requisite in a poem; they want force altogether.'-Nay, as to the matter of force, indeed, it must be owned.'-'Yes, sir, and unity, and propriety, and a thousand other things; but, if my cousin will be kind enough to fetch the poem from her dressing-room, we will be judged by you, Mr. Dapperwit. Pardon me, ladies, you would not have me be so rude.

'Who shall decide when doctors disagree?'

And, with that, he made one of the finest bows in the world.