just formed the man, the predominance of this affection blights his natural nobility i the bud. [Exeunt.] considered. in the scale of being, but as a few grades higher than our heroes, this belief must have infused itself into their minds that kind of promptness to action, which is inspired by the expectation of approving 771. spectators, or the censure of a disapprobating world. F. Next to the impulsion we receive from the performance of what is good or great, merely from itself, is the incentive arising from the plaudits of those who observe our conduct. When Leonidas and his little band of heroes, entered the avenue to immortality, at the straits of Thermopyla, animated by a desire of commanding the admiration of the world, and of meriting the glory they aspired after, allowing it to be owing to this motive, are we not charmed at their magnanimity? Where will you find an instance of heroism comparable to this, in modern times? Who, but an icy stoic, is not rapt in ecstacy, when he thinks on the sternness of Cato's virtue? When Cesar had thinned the ranks of his senate," had made himself lord of Rome, and proffered friendship and honors to the hoary republican, as the price of his submission, who can withhold the approving plaudit, or but admire his resolution and fortitude? "Who sees him act, but envies every deed? Who hears him groan, that does not wish to bleed?" L. The true criterion of the worth of actions, is the motive which produces them. Of these, we are not always in situations favorable for judging. But, if patriotism is a virtue, which may influence men in inferior stations, and can be tested by actions, where, my friend, in all ancient example, can we find a greater instance of that virtue, than those Frenchmen exhibited, who, in a naval engagement with the English, during our revolutionary war, were subk in the ship called the Vengeur The event may be fresh in your mind; in mine, it is indelible. To behold the whole crew, with one voice, calling on Heaven to bless the Republic, while the ocean was receiving their bodies, and their souls were treading the threshold of Elysium, was a sight, which must have attracted the attention and admiration of angels. I might mention one of our own country, whose talents, in the cabinet and field, are unrivalled, and who will remain, to distant ages, a monument of the perfection which is attainable by human nature. Your feelings will present to your mind. our first President. GENERAL WASHINGTON. We may likewise boast of other heroes and statesmen; heroes, who have sealed their patriotism with their blood, and who have died in defence of our liberties. F. Scarce any age elapses, but is distinguished by the genius of some great men ; but I think the manners of the present day are more unfavorable to the production of men of genius, heroes, &c.. than in former times. Excessive thirst for property, is a weed, whose growth is encouraged more than formerly, and absorbs many of the finest feelings of humanity; and when age has BRONSON, 24 SUPERIOR VALUE OF SOLID ACCOMPLISHMENTS DIALOGUE BETWEEN CICERO AND LORD CHESTERFIELD. Cicero. MISTAKE me not. I know how to value the sweet courtesies of life. Affability, attention, decorum of behaviour, if they have not been ranked by philosophers among the virtues, are certainly related to them, ant have a powerful influence in promoting social happiness. I have recommended them as well as yourself. But I contend, and no sophistry shall prevail upon me to give up this point, that, to be truly amiable, they must proceed from goodness of heart. Assumed by the artful, to serve the purpose of private interest, they degenerate to contemptible grimace, and detestable hypocrisy. I cannot enter farther into the controversy at Chesterfield. Excuse me, my dear Cicero; present. I have a hundred engagements at feast; and see yonder my little elegant French comtesse. I promised her and myself the pleasure of a promenade. Pleasant walking enough in these Elysian groves. So much good company, too, that if it were not that the canaille are apt to be troublesome, I should not much regret the distance to the Tuilleries. But, adieu, my dear friend; for I see Madame *** is joining the party. Adieu! adieu! Ci. Contemptible wretch! Ch. Ah! what do I hear! Recollect that I am a man of honor, unused to the pity, or the insults of an upstart. But perhaps your exclamation was not meant for me. If so, why Či. I am as little inclined to insult as to flatter you. Your levity excited my indigna. tion; but my compassion for the degeneracy of human nature, exhibited in your instance, absorbs my contempt. Ch. 1 could be a little angry, but as good breeding forbids it, I will be a philosopher for once. Appropos, pray, how do you reconcile your-vhat shall I call it-your unsmooth address, to those rules of decorum, that gentleness of manners, of which you say you know and teach the propriety, as well as myself. Ci. To confess the truth, I would not advance the arts of embellishment to extreme refinement. Ornamental education, or an attention to the graces, has a connection with effeminacy. In acquiring the gentleman, I would not lose the spirit of a man. There is a gracefulness in a manly character, a beauty in an open and ingenuous disposition, which all the professed teachers of the arts of pleasing know not how to infuse. Ch. You and I lived in a state of manners as different as the periods at which we lived, were distant. You, Romans-pardon me, my dear sir-you Romans had a little of the Brute in you. Come, come, I must overlook it. You were obliged to court plebeians for their suffrages; and if similis simili gaudet, it must be owned. that the greatest of you were secure of their favor. Why, Beau Nash would READINGS, RECITATIONS, have handed your Catos and your Bratuses | be capable of accomplishing this unnatural Ci. The vivacity you have acquired, in studying the writings and the manners of the degenerated Gauls, has led you to set too high a value on qualifications, which dazzle the lively perceptions with a momentary blaze, and to depreciate that kind of worth, which can neither be obtained nor understood, without serious attention, and sometimes painful efforts. But I will not contend with you about the propriety, or impropriety, of the outward modes, which delight a showy nation. I will not, spend arguments in proving, that gold is more valuable than tinsel, though it glitters less. But I must censure you with an asperity, too, which, perhaps, your graces may not approve, for recommending vice as graceful, in your memorable letters. Ch. That the great Cicero should know so little of the world, really surprises me. A little libertinism, my dear, that's all; how can one be a gentleman without a little libertinism? Ci. I ever thought, that, to be a gentleman, it was requisite to be a moral man. surely you, who might have enjoyed the And benefit of a light to direct you, which I wanted, were blameable in omitting religion and virtue in your system. Ch. What! superstitious too! You have not, then, conversed with your superior, the philosopher of Ferney. I thank heaven, I was born in the same age with that great luminary. Prejudice had else, perhaps, chained me in the thraldom of my great grandmother. These are enlightened days, and I find I have contributed something to the general illumination, by my posthumous letters. Ci. Boast not of them. Remember, you were a father. Ch. And did I not endeavor most effectually to serve my son, by pointing out the qualifications necessary to a foreign ambassador, for which department I always designed bim? Few fathers have taken more pains to accomplish a son than myself. There was nothing I did not condescend to point out to him. Ci. True: your condescension was great indeed You were the pander of your son. You not only taught him the mean arts of dissimulation, the petty tricks which degrade nobility; but you corrupted his principles, fomented his passions, and even pointed out objects for their gratification. You might have left the task of teaching him fashionable vice, to a vicious world. Example, and the corrupt affections of human nature, will ever purpose. But a parent, the guardian appointed by nature for an uninstructed offspring, introduced into a dangerous world, who himself takes upon him the office of seduction, is a monster indeed. I also had a son. I was tenderly solicitous for the right conduct of his education. I entrusted him, indeed, to Cratippus, at Athens; but, like you, I could not help transmitting instructions, dictated by in my book of Offices; a book which has ever been cited, by the world, as a proof, to what advanced, without the aid of revelation. I own a height the morality of the heathens was I feel a conscious pride in it; not on account of the ability which it may display, but for the principles it teaches, and the good I flatter myself it has diffused. You did not, indeed intend your instructions for the world; but, be concluded that you thought them true as you gave them to a son you loved, it may wisdom, and withheld them, only because they were contrary to the professions of the unenlightened. They have been generally read, and tend to introduce the manners, vices. and frivolous habits, of the nation you admired to your own manly nation, who, of all others. simplicity of the Romans. once approached most nearly to the nobic accustomed to the rough conversation of Ch. Spare me, Cicero. I have never been his company. I seem to shrink in his noble an old Roman. I feel myself little in presence. I never felt my insignificance French philosophers have been my models so forcibly as now. French courtiers and hurry of affected vivacity, I never considered and amid the dissipation of pleasure, and the the gracefulness of virtue, and the beauty of an open, sincere, and manly character. 772. HOW SCHOLARS ARE MADE.-WEBSTER. have no magical power, to make scholars tant sense, educate himself. His books and 3. It is not the man who has seen most, or went to the siege of Troy, had not the pre- 773. THE MERCHANT AND SCHOLAR.-G. R. RUSSELL. THE scholar may feel some interest for the pursuit, which has contributed so largely to the facilities for his own calling; and, by extending its thousand hands to every region of the earth, has collected whatever is curious in science, or desirable in art. That the wisdom of ages may lie within his easy reach, the ship girdles the globe, and every cranny of its surface is ransacked, to supply his wants, and anticipate his wishes. Without wandering from his accustomed range, he may see, around him, evidences of what learning owes to a profession, which has liberally aided common education, founded schools of science, given names to universities, or encouraged and sustained them from an honorably earned prosperity; worthy memorials, that it has not labored for outward luxury and present gratification only, but for the solid and enduring benefit of after times. In the halls of colleges hang the portraits of benefactors, who trafficked in the busy world, that they might endow professorships, fill the shelves of libraries, and place at the command of the student, whatever is recorded of the genius, intelligence, and industry of man. The calculations of the counting-room involve consequences beyond the accumulation of wealth. They are made, not merely for the actual necessities and artificial requirements of society, but they bring, from strange lands new objects for investigation, and suggestions which give encouragement to thought. The man of books may pause, before he disdains companionship with the man of business, or arrogates to himself exclusive property in the field of literature. The young merchant, in these days, treads hard on the track of the professed scholar. Even in his early novitiate, he is not, now, content with the accomplishments which are deemed requisite in his initiation; and which, though by no means ignoble, do not cail for strong mental exertion, nor require, for perfectibility, the length of time often devoted to these mysteries. He seeks more than can be found in his routine of duties. He is not satisfied with proficiency in sweeping store, inaking fires, and trimming lamps; in being an errand boy, or a copying machine; and his higher aspirations are aided by the opportunities for acquiring knowledge, which have within a few years, been most bountifully multiplied. There are lectures, libraries, and reading-rooms, for those who crave, for their leisure hours, something more than mere ainusement; and they have given a character to pursuits, which were once considered suited only to practical men, whose business was to do the drudgery of life, and leave the monopoly of mind to more aesthetic natures. Mercantile associations have been formed, whose object is to encourage improvement, promote a taste for science and art, stimulate, in attention to intellectual culture, and induce a devotion to qualifications which may give a wider range for future usefulness. The rahtis dion, thus nurtured, is a labor of love. Knowledge is sought for itself alone; 1.0 ecadernic holo.s are expected; no diploma is to reward a periodical regard to prescribed tasks. But the limited time, allotted to study, gives an earnestness to application, and a necessity for that concentration and attention, which almost seems to constitute the difference between men, and is certainly indispensable to high success in any profession. There should be good fellowship between all occupations. They are in close connection; each can learn something of the other, and supply deficiencies by interchange of thought and friendly communion. The man of contemplation is neighbor to the man of action, abstraction leans against reality; exact science is nearly related to practical circumstance; speculation falls back on the experience of working days; out of the dust and turmoil of noisy life spring beautiful things, over which sentiment may languish, and poetry become frantic. Differences of condition are accidents men get into wrong places, but there is such affinity in the labor of all, that mistakes are rarely rectified, the world jogs on, and things settle themselves. Over all conditions, from the nature too etherealized to think of dinner. down to the fragment of clay that thinks of nothing else, there rests the philosophy of facts, an agency which reconciles all discrepancies, and enlightens mankind by a sober development of human progress. 774. WATER FOR ME.-JOHNSON. Oh! water for me-bright water for me! Fill AGAIN to the brim-again TO THE BRIM! When o'er the hills, like a gladsome bride, But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew, It Cadmus. It is not on account of the serpent, :hat I boast myself a greater benefactor to Greece than you. Actions should be valued by their utility, rather than their splendor. I taught Greece the art of writing, to which laws owe their precision and permanency. You subdued monsters; I civilized men. is from untamed passions, not from wild beasts, that the greatest evils arise to human society. By wisdom, by art, by the united strength of a civil community, men have been enabled to subdue the whole race of lions, bears, and serpents; and, what is more, to bind, by laws and wholesome regulations, the ferocious violence and dangerous treachery of the human disposition. Had lions been destroyed only In single combat, men had had but a bad time of it; and what, but laws, could awe the men, who killed the lions? The genuine glory, the proper distinction of the rational species, arises from the perfection of the mental powers. Courage is apt to be fierce, and strength is often exerted in acts of oppression: but wisdom is the associate of justice. It assists her to form equal laws, to pursue right measures, to correct power, protect weakness, and to unite individuals in a common interest and general welfare. Heroes may kill tyrants, but it is wisdom and laws, that prevent tyranny and oppression. The operations of policy far surpass the labors of Hercules, preventing many evils, which valor and might cannot even redress. You heroes regard nothing but glory; and scarcely consider whether the conquests, which raise your fame, are really beneficial to your country. Unhappy are the people who are governed by valor, not directed by prudence, and not mitigated by the gentle arts! H. I do not expect to find an admirer of my strenuous life, in the man who taught his countrymen to sit still and read; and to lose the hours of youth and action, in idle specula tion and the sport of words. C. An ambition to have a place in the registers of fame. is the Eurystheus, which imposes heroic labors on mankind. The Muses incite to action, as well as entertain the hours of repose; and I think you should honor them, for presenting to heroes so noble a recreation, as may prevent their taking up the distaff, when they lay down the club. H. Wits, as well as heroes, can take up the distaff. What think you of their thin-spun systems of philosophy, or lascivious poems, or Milesian fables? Nay, what is still worse, are there not panegyrics on tyrants, and books, that blaspheme the gods, and perplex the natural sense of right and wrong? I believe if Eurystheus were to set me to work again, he would find me a worse task than any he imposed; he would nake me read over a great library; and I would serve it as I did the Hydra; I would burn as I went on, that one chimera might not rise from another, to plague mankind. I should have valued myself more on clearing the library, than on cleansing the Augean stables. C. It is in those libraries only, that the memory of your labor exists. The heroes of Marathon, the patriots of Thermopyla, owe their fame to me. All the wise institutions of law-givers, and all the doctrines of sages. had perished in the ear, like a dream related, if letters had not preserved them. Oh, Hercules! it is not for the man, who preferred Virtue to Pleasure, to be an enemy to the Muses. Let Sardanapalus and the silken sons of luxury, who have wasted life in inglorious ease, despise the records of action, which bear no honorable testimony to their lives: but true merit, heroic virtue, should respect the sacred source of lasting honor. H. Indeed, if writers employed themselves only in recording the acts of great men, much might be said in their favor. But why do they trouble people with their meditations? Can it be of any consequence to the world what an idle man has been thinking? C. Yes it may. The most important and extensive advantages mankind enjoy, are greatly owing to men who have never quitted their closets. To them. mankind are obliged for the facility and security of navigation. The invention of the compass has opened to them new worlds. The knowledge of the mechanical powers has enabled them to construct such wonderful machines, as perform, what the united labor of millions, by the severest drudgery, could not accomplish Agriculture, too, the most useful of arts, has received its share of improvement from the same source. Poetry, likewise, is of excellent use, to enable the memory to retain with more ease, and to imprint with more energy upon the heart, precepts and examples of virtue. From the little root of a few letters, science has spread its branches over all nature, and raised its head to the heavens. Some philosophers have entered so far into the counsels of Divine Wisdom, as to explain much of the great operations of nature. The dimensions and distances of the planets, the causes of their revolutions, the path of comets, and the ebbing and flowing of tides, are understood and explained. Can any thing raise the glory of the human species more, than to see a little creature, inhabiting a small spot, amidst innumerable worlds, taking a survey of the universe, comprehending its arrangements, and entering into the scheme of that wonderful connection and correspon dence of things so remote, and which 't seems a great exertion of Omnipotence to have established! What a volume of wisdom, what a noble theology, do these discoveries open to us? While some superior geniuses have soared to these sublime subjects, other sagacious and diligent minds have been inquiring into the most minute works of the Infinite Artificer: the same care, the same providence. is exerted through the whole; and we should learn from it, that, to true wisdom, utility and fitness appear perfection, and whatever is beneficial is noble. H. I approve of science, as far as it is assistant to action. I like the improvement of navigation, and the discovery of the greater part of the globe, because it opens a wider hield for the master spirits of the world to bustle in. C. There spoke the soul of Hercules. But, if learned men are to be esteemed, for the assistance they give to active minds in their schemes, they are not less to be valued, for their endeavors to give them a right direction and moderate their too great ardor. The study of history will teach the legislature by what means states have become powerful; and, in the private citizen, they will inculcate the love of liberty and order. The writings of sages point out a private path of virtue; and show that the best empire is self-govern ment, and, that subduing our passions, is the noblest of conquests. H. The true spirit of heroism acts by a generous impulse. and wants neither the experience of history, nor the doctrines of philosophers, to direct it. But do not arts and science render men effeminate, luxurious. and inactive and can you deny, that wit and learning are often made subservient to very bad purposes? C. I will own that there are some natures so happily formed, they scarcely want the assistance of a master, and the rules of art, to give them force or grace, in every thing they do. But these favored geniuses are few. As learning flourishes only where ease, plenty, and mild government subsists; in so rich a soil, and under so soft a climate, the weeds of luxury will spring up amid the flowers of art: but the spontaneous weeds would grow more rank, if they were allowed the undisturbed possession of the field. Letters keep a frugal, temperate nation from growing ferocious, a rich one from becoming entirely sensual and debauched. Every gift of Heaven is sometimes abused; but good sense and fine talents, by a natural law, gravitate towards virtue. Accidents may drive them out of their proper direction; but such accidents are an alarming omen, and of dire portent to the times. For, if virtue cannot keep to her allegiance those men, who, in their hearts, confess her divine right, and know the value of her laws, on whose fidelity and obedience can she depend? May such geniuses never descend to flatter vice. encourage folly, or propagate irreligion; but exert all their powers in the service of virtue, and celebrate the noble choice of those, who, like Hercules, preferred her to pleasure! 776. RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA.-BURKE. OH! inestimable right! Oh! wonderful, transcendent right, the assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of money! Oh! invaluable night! for the sake of which, we have sacrificed our rank among nations, our importance abroad.. and our happiness at home! Oh! right! more dear to us than our existence, which has already cost us so much, and which seems likely to cost us all. Infatuated man! (fixing his eye on the minister,) miserable and undone country! not to know that the claim of right, without the power of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a right to tax America, the noble lord tells us; therefore we ought to tax America. This is the profound logic, which comprises the whole chain of his reasoning. Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him, who resolved to shear the wolf. What! shear a wolf! Have you considered the resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt? No, says the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. Man haa a right of dominion over the beasts of the forest; end, therefore, I will shear the wolf. How wonderful, that a nation could be thus deluded. But the noble lord deals in cheats and delusions. They are the daily traffic of his invention; and he will continue to play off his cheats on this House, so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so long as he has money enough at command, to bribe gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a black and bitter day of reckoning will surely come; and, whenever that day come, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment, to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calamities, the punishment they deserve. 777. THE FOURTH OF JULY.-ANONYMOUS. 2. While this day, in festal throng, |