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The fame of Dr. Beattie rests chiefly upon "The Minstrel." It is a didactic poem, in the Spenserian stanza, designed "to trace the progress of a poetical genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a minstrel." The character of Edwin, the Minstrel, (in which Beattie embodied his own early feelings and poetical aspirations,) is very finely drawn, and a vein of pathetic moral reflection runs through the whole of the poem, which is of the purest kind, and highly elevating in its influence.

The character of Dr. Beattie is delineated in his writings, of which the most prominent features are purity of sentiment, and warin attachment to the principles of religion and morality. He was the friend of every good cause, and was one of the earliest advocates for the suppression of the slave-trade, and for the abolition of slavery. All his different treatises, critical, philosophical, and moral, are very able as well as very instructive, and are written in a style of great classic purity; and it may with truth be said, that no one can read his works with a candid mind, and rise from the perusal of them unimproved-which is the highest praise an author can receive.2

PUBLIC AND PRIVATE EDUCATION COMPARED.

Could mankind lead their lives in that solitude which is so favorable to many of our most virtuous affections, I should be clearly on the side of a private education. But most of us, when we go out into the world, find difficulties in our way, which good principles and innocence alone will not qualify us to encounter; we must have some address and knowledge of the world different from what is to be learned in books, or we shall soon be puzzled, disheartened, or disgusted. The foundation of this knowledge is laid in the intercourse of schoolboys, or at least of young men of the same age. When a boy is always under the direction of a parent or tutor, he acquires such a habit of looking up to them for advice, that he never learns to think or act for himself; his memory is exercised, indeed, in retaining their advice, but his invention is suffered to languish, till at last it becomes totally inactive. He knows, perhaps, a great deal of history, or science; but he knows not how to conduct himself on those ever-changing emergencies which are too minute and too numerous to be comprehended in any system of advice. He is astonished at the most common appearances, and discouraged with the most trifling (because unexpected) obstacles; and he is often at his wits' end, where

In his "Elements of Moral Science," he devotes a considerable space to the subject of slavery, refuting the arguments then adduced by its supporters, with the triumph of a clearhended logician, while the virtuous indignation which he pours forth against the iniquitous system, shows what were his feelings as a man.

2 "Throughout the whole of the North of Scotland in these days, there was not one that could compete with Dr. Beattie, the recluse professor at Aberdeen, in variety of accomplishments; for he was an excellent classical scholar, a veritable poet, a scientific as well as prac tical musician, an indefatigable student, and, as a metaphysician, unsurpassed at that epoch, unless it were by his friend and colleague, Dr. Reid."-GILLIE's Literary Veteran.

a boy of much less knowledge, but more experience, would instantly devise a thousand expedients. *

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Another inconvenience attending private education is the suppressing of the principle of emulation, without which it rarely happens that a boy prosecutes his studies with alacrity or success. I have heard private tutors complain that they were obliged to have recourse to flattery or bribery to engage the attention of their pupil; and I need not observe how improper it is to set the example of such practices before children. True emulation, especially in young and ingenuous minds, is a noble principle; I have known the happiest effects produced by it; I never knew it to be productive of any vice. In all public schools it is, or ought to be, carefully cherished. * * * I shall only observe further, that when boys pursue their studies at home, they are apt to contract either a habit of idleness, or too close an attachment to reading; the former breeds innumerable diseases, both in the body and soul; the latter, by filling young and tender minds with more knowledge than they can either retain or arrange properly, is apt to make them superficial and inattentive, or, what is worse, to strain, and consequently impair the faculties, by overstretching them. I have known several instances of both.

The great inconvenience of public education arises from its being dangerous to morals. And, indeed, every condition and period of human life is liable to temptation. Nor will I deny that our innocence, during the first part of life, is much more secure at home than anywhere else; yet even at home, when we reach a certain age, it is not perfectly secure. Let young men be kept at the greatest distance from bad company; it will not be easy to keep them from bad books, to which, in these days, all persons may have easy access at all times. Let us, however, suppose the best; that both bad books and bad company keep away, and that the young man never leaves his parents' or tutor's side till his mind be well furnished with good principles, and himself arrived at the age of reflection and caution: yet temptations must come at last; and when they come, will they have the less strength because they are new, unexpected, and surprising? I fear not. The more the young man is surprised, the more apt will he be to lose his presence of mind, and consequently the less capable of self-government. Besides, if his passions are strong, he will be disposed to form comparisons between his past state of restraint and his present of liberty, very much to the disadvantage of the former. His new associates will laugh at him for his reserve and preciseness; and his unacquaintance with their manners, and with the world, as it will render him the more obnoxious to their ridicule, will also disqualify him the more both for supporting it with dignity, and also for defending himself against it. A young man, kept by himself at home,

is never well known, even by his parents; because he is never placed in those circumstances which alone are able effectually to rouse and interest his passions, and consequently to make his character appear. His parents, therefore, or tutors, never know his weak side, nor what particular advices or cautions he stands most in need of; whereas, if he had attended a public school, and mingled in the amusements and pursuits of his equals, his virtues and his vices would have been disclosing themselves every day; and his teachers would have known what particular precepts and examples it was most expedient to inculcate upon him. Compare those who have had a public education with those who have been educated at home; and it will not be found, in fact, that the latter are, either in virtue or in talents, superior to the former.

Letter to Mrs. Inglis, Dec. 1770.

BENEVOLENCE.

Of the second class of social duties, which consist in the indulgence of those affections that incline us to do good to others, the first is to cherish benevolence, charity, or love, to all mankind without exception. We are all by nature brethren, placed in the same, or in similar circumstances, subject to the same wants and infirmities, endowed with the same faculties, and equally dependent on the great Author of our being: we cannot be happy but in the society of one another, and from one another we daily receive, or may receive, important services. These considerations recommend the great duty of universal benevolence, which is not more beneficial to others than to ourselves; for it makes us happy in our own minds, and amiable in the eyes of all who know us; it even promotes bodily health, and it prepares the soul for every virtuous impression while malevolent passions debase the understanding, harden the heart, and make a man disagreeable to others and a torment to himself. A second duty of this class is compassion, or that sympathy which prompts us to relieve the distresses of one another; and a third is gratitude, which makes us anxious to requite the favors we may have received. Good men are entitled to peculiar love and esteem. He who does good to one person, from a benevolent principle, lays an obligation on the whole species; for he shows that he has the interest of mankind at heart, and he sets a good example. Our love of good men, therefore, partakes of the nature of gratitude: to be destitute of it, is a proof of such depravity as even profligates would be ashamed of.

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Moral Science, part iii.

OPENING STANZAS OF "THE MINSTREL."

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb'

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war;
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,

In life's low vale remote has pined alone,

Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

And yet the languor of inglorious days

Not equally oppressive is to all;

Him who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise

The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.

There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,

Would shrink to hear the obstreperous trump of Fame;
Supremely blest, if to their portion fall

Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.

The rolls of fame I will not now explore;
Nor need I here describe, in learned lay,
How forth the Minstrel fared in days of yore,
Right glad of heart, though homely in array,
His waving locks and beard all hoary gray;
While from his bending shoulder, decent hung
His harp, the sole companion of his way,
Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.

Fret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride,
That a poor villager inspires my strain:
With thee let Pageantry and Power abide;
The gentle Muses haunt the sylvan reign,

Where through wild groves at eve the lonely swain
Enraptur'd roams, to gaze on Nature's charms.
They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
The parasite their influence ne'er warms,
Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms.

THE POET'S CHILDHOOD.

There lived in Gothic days, as legends tell,
A shepherd swain, a man of low degree,

Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,
Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;

"The conception of the commencement of the Minstrel is fine, and highly poetical; and it is beautifully and vigorously executed; but he already falls off in the second canto, both in invention and expression." Read a very genial critique on Beattie's Poems, in Sir Egerton Brydges' "Imaginative Biography," i. 153-173.

Lord Lyttelton (author of "Dialogues of the Dead," and of a "Dissertation on the Con version and Apostleship of Paul") thus wrote to Mrs. Montagu, March, 1771:-"I read the 'Minstrel' with as much rapture as poetry, in her noblest, sweetest charms, ever raised in my soul. It seemed to me that my once most-beloved minstrel, Thomson, was come down from heaven, refined by the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with here, to let me hear him sing again the beauties of nature, and the finest feelings of virtue, not with human, but with angelic strains."

But he, I ween, was of the north countrie!'
A nation fam'd for song, and beauty's charms;
Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.

The shepherd-swain of whom I mention made,
On Scotia's mountain fed his little flock;
The sickle, scythe, or plough he never sway'd;
An honest heart was almost all his stock;
His drink the living water from the rock;
The milky dams supplied his board, and lent
Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock;

And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,

Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went.
From labor health, from health contentment springs:
Contentment opes the source of every joy:
He envied not, he never thought of kings;
Nor from those appetites sustain'd annoy,
That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy;
Nor fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled;
He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,
For on his vows the blameless Phoebe smiled,
And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child."

No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,

Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season look'd delightful, as it past,

To the fond husband and the faithful wife.

Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life
They never roam'd; secure beneath the storm
Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,

Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm
Of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.

The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,
Was all the offspring of this humble pair:
His birth no oracle or seer foretold;

No prodigy appear'd in earth or air,

Nor aught that might a strange event declare.
You guess each circumstance of Edwin's birth;
The parent's transport, and the parent's care;
The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth;
And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.

And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy:
Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye;
Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy:
Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy;
And now his look was most demurely sad;
And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why.

1 There is hardly an ancient ballad or romance, wherein the minstrel or harper who ap pears is not declared, by way of eminence, to have been "of the north countrie." It is probable that under this appellation were formerly comprehended all the provinces to the north of the Trent.

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