as a sovereign, though with some considerable exceptions, are the object of undisputed applause and approbation.

4. REFINEMENT FAVOURABLE TO HAPPINESS AND VIRTUE.—(“ESSAYS.”)

Human happiness, according to the most received notions, seems to consist in three ingredients, action, pleasure, and indolence; and though these ingredients ought to be mixed in different proportions, according to the particular disposition of the person, yet no one ingredient can be entirely wanting, without destroying, in some measure, the relish of the whole composition. Indolence or repose, indeed, seems not of itself to contribute much to our enjoyment; but, like sleep, is requisite as an indulgence to the weakness of human nature, which cannot support an uninterrupted course of business or pleasure. That quick march of the spirits, which takes a man from himself, and chiefly gives satisfaction, does in the end exhaust the mind, and requires some intervals of repose, which, though agreeable for a moment, yet, if prolonged, beget a languor and lethargy that destroys all enjoyment. Education, custom, and example, have a mighty influence in turning the mind to any of these pursuits; and it must be owned, that, where they promote a relish for action and pleasure, they are so far favourable to human happiness. In times when industry and the arts flourish, men are kept in perpetual occupation, and enjoy, as their reward, the occupation itself, as well as those pleasures which are the fruit of their labour. The mind acquires new vigour; enlarges its powers and faculties; and by an assiduity in honest industry, both satisfies its natural appetites, and prevents the growth of unnatural ones, which commonly spring up when nourished by ease and idleness. Banish those arts from society, you deprive men both of action and of pleasure; and leaving nothing but indolence in their place, you even destroy the relish of indolence, which never is agreeable but when it succeeds to labour, and recruits the spirits, exhausted by too much application and fatigue.

Another advantage of industry and of refinements in the mechanical arts is, that they commonly produce some refinements in the liberal; nor can one be carried to perfection without being accompanied, in some degree, with the other. The same age which produces great philosophers and politicians, renowned generals and poets, usually abounds with skilful weavers and ship-carpenters. We cannot reasonably expect that a piece of woollen cloth will be wrought to perfection in a nation which is ignorant of astronomy, or where ethics are neglected. The spirit of the age affects all the arts; and the minds of men being once roused from their lethargy, and put into a fermentation, turn themselves on all sides, and carry improvements into every art and science. Profound ignorance is totally banished, and men enjoy the privilege of rational creatures; to think as well as to act; to cultivate the pleasures of the mind as well as those of the body.

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The more these refined arts advance, the more sociable men become; nor is it possible that, when enriched with science, and possessed of a fund of conversation, they should be contented to remain in solitude, or live with their fellow-citizens in that distant manner which is peculiar to ignorant and barbarous nations. They flock into cities; love to receive and communicate knowledge, to show their wit or their breeding, their taste in conversation or living, clothes, or furniture. Curiosity allures the wise, vanity the foolish, and pleasure both. Particular clubs and societies are everywhere formed; both sexes meet in an easy and sociable manner; and the tempers of men, as well as their behaviour, refine apace. So that, beside the improvements which they receive from knowledge and the liberal arts, it is impossible but they must feel an increase of humanity from the very habit of conversing together and contributing to each other's pleasure and entertainment. Thus industry, knowledge, and humanity are linked together by an indissoluble chain, and are found, from experience as well as reason, to be peculiar to the more polished and what are commonly denominated the more luxurious ages. Nor are they advantageous in private life alone; they diffuse their beneficial influence on the public, and render the government as great and flourishing as they make individuals happy and prosperous. The increase and consumption of all the commodities which serve to the ornament and pleasure of life, are advantageous to society, because, at the same time that they multiply those innocent gratifications to individuals, they are a kind of storehouse of labour, which, in the exigencies of the state, may be turned to the public service. In a nation where there is no demand for such superfluities, men sink into indolence, lose all enjoyment of life, and are useless to the public, which cannot maintain or support its fleets and armies from the industry of such slothful members.

This industry is much promoted by the knowledge inseparable from ages of art and refinement; as, on the other hand, this knowledge enables the public to make the best advantage of the industry of its subjects. Laws, order, police, discipline, these can never be carried to any degree of perfection before human reason has refined itself by exercise, and by an application to the more vulgar arts, at least, of commerce and manufacture. Can we expect that a government will be well modelled by a people who know not how to make a spinning-wheel or to employ a loom to advantage? Not to mention that all ignorant ages are infested with superstition, which throws the government off its bias, and disturbs men in the pursuit of their interest and happiness.

Knowledge in the arts of government naturally begets mildness and moderation, by instructing men in the advantages of humane maxims above rigour and severity, which drive subjects into rebellion, and make the return to submission impracticable, by cutting off all hopes of pardon. When the tempers of men are softened, as well as their knowledge improved, this humanity appears still more

conspicuous, and is the chief characteristic which distinguishes a civilized age from times of barbarity and ignorance. Factions are then less inveterate, revolutions less tragical, authority less severe, and seditions less frequent. Even foreign wars abate of their cruelty; and after the field of battle, where honour and interest steel men against compassion as well as fear, the combatants divest themselves of the brute, and resume the man.

Nor need we fear that men, by losing their ferocity, will lose their martial spirit, or become less undaunted and vigorous in defence of their country or their liberty. The arts have no such effect in enervating either the mind or body. On the contrary, industry, their inseparable attendant, adds new force to both. And if anger, which is said to be the whetstone of courage, loses somewhat of its asperity by politeness and refinement; a sense of honour, which is a stronger, more constant, and more governable principle, acquires fresh vigour by that elevation of genius which arises from knowledge and a good education. Add to this, that courage can neither have any duration nor be of any use when not accompanied with discipline and martial skill, which are seldom found among a barbarous people.

XV. DR JOHNSON.

SAMUEL JOHNSON was born in Lichfield in 1709. After the usual preliminary education, he was sent to Oxford, from which, however, he was soon withdrawn, owing to the pecuniary embarrassments of his father. After various unsuccessful attempts to maintain himself by teaching, he came to London, and commenced author. His career was long and arduous; but Johnson, more than almost any man, was qualified to go through it. His bodily strength, capable of any labour; his vigour of mind, his varied knowledge, his dogged perseverance, and his honest, manly, self-reliance on his own exertions, carried him through his novitiate of drudgery with success. He acquired considerable fame by his "London, a Satire," published in 1738, a vigorous poem, which was highly praised by Pope; and his reputation was increased by the publication, eleven years later, of his other poem, "The Vanity of Human Wishes." In 1750, he commenced the "Rambler," a bi-weekly paper in imitation of the "Spectator,” which, though never extensively popular, was always highly esteemed by those whose judgment was valuable. In 1755 appeared his Dictionary, the work of seven years' hard labour; and he subsequently published the "Idler," a paper of the same sort as the "Rambler," but in a lighter strain; "Rasselas," an Oriental tale; an account of his Journey to the Hebrides," and the "Lives of the Poets." These works were in addition to almost innumerable essays, reviews, and miscellaneous papers contributed to the magazines and periodicals of the day. His honest labour secured him a plentiful subsistence, and a pension of £300 granted him by George III. in 1762, maintained him in independence and comfort till his death in 1784. Perhaps no

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single author has exercised so important, and, on the whole, so beneficial an influence on our literature as Samuel Johnson. He completely altered the whole style of the age, substituting for the short, graceful, simple, though sometimes careless and feeble sentences which the wits of Queen Anne's reign had introduced, long, sonorous, intricate periods, which, in his own hands at least, lent additional dignity to any subject, however grave. His high moral character, his sincere religious convictions, and thorough hatred of all that was base and impure, chased from the fields of literature the hosts of atheistic and immoral scribblers who ridiculed a religion whose claims they had not examined, and a morality which they had not the virtue to practise; and the sound sense of the critical canons which he established dissipated for ever the feeble quibbling of the schools, and elevated criticism into the certainty of a science. His defects, his pedantry, his pomposity, his prejudices, his want of appreciation of the higher graces of poetry, sink into insignificance when contrasted with his services to literature. The influence of his style still, in fact, remains; his strong sense, as recorded in the imperishable pages of Boswell, has still as powerful a charm as it had in the days of Burke and Reynolds; and no author in the history of our country is more deserving of the respect and reverence of all votaries of literature.

1. GENERAL PREVALENCE OF DISCONTENT.--("RASSELAS.")

Nekayah,' perceiving her brother's attention fixed, proceeded in her narrative. "In families, whether there is or is not poverty, there is commonly discord; if a kingdom be, as Imlac tells us, a great family, a family likewise is a little kingdom, torn with factions, and exposed to revolutions. An unpractised observer expects the love of parents and children to be constant and equal; but this kindness seldom continues beyond the years of infancy: in a short time the infants become rivals to their parents. Benefits are allayed by reproaches, and gratitude debased by envy. Parents and children seldom act in concert; each child endeavours to appropriate the esteem or fondness of the parents, and the parents, with yet less temptation, betray each other to their children; thus some place their confidence in the father, and some in the mother, and by degrees the house is filled with artifices and feuds.

"The opinions of children and parents, of the young and the old, are naturally opposite, by the contrary effects of hope and despondence, of expectation and experience, without crime or folly on either side. The colours of life in youth and age appear different, as the face of nature in spring and winter. And how can children credit the assertions of parents, which their own eyes show them to be false? Few parents act in such a manner as much to enforce their maxims by the credit of their lives. The old man trusts wholly to slow contrivance and gradual progressions; the youth expects to

1 The speakers are Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, and the Princess Nekayah, his sister. Imlac, so often referred to, is their guide and instructor.

force his way by genius, vigour, and precipitance. The old man pays regard to riches, and the youth reverences virtue. The old man deifies prudence, the youth commits himself to magnanimity and chance. The young man who intends no ill believes that none is intended, and, therefore, acts with openness and candour; but his father, having suffered the injuries of fraud, is impelled to suspect, and too often allured to practise it. Age looks with anger on the temerity of youth, and youth with contempt on the scrupulosity of age. Thus parents and children, for the greatest part, live on to love less and less; and if those whom nature has thus closely united are the torments of each other, where shall we look for tenderness and consolation?"

Surely," said the Prince, "you must have been unfortunate in your choice of acquaintance; I am unwilling to believe that the most tender of all relations is thus impeded in its effects by natural necessity."

"Domestic discord," answered she, "is not inevitably and fatally necessary; but yet it is not easily avoided. We seldom see that a whole family is virtuous; the good and evil cannot well agree; and the evil can yet less agree with one another; even the virtuous fall sometimes to variance, when their virtues are of different kinds and tending to extremes. In general, those parents have most reverence that most deserve it; for he that lives well cannot be despised. Many other evils infest private life. Some are the slaves of servants whom they have trusted with their affairs. Some are kept in continual anxiety by the caprice of rich relations, whom they cannot please, and dare not offend. Some husbands are imperious, and some wives are perverse; and, as it is always more easy to do evil than good, though the wisdom or virtue of one can very rarely make many happy, the folly or vice of one may often make many miserable."

"If such be the general effect of marriage," said the Prince, "I shall for the future think it dangerous to connect my interest with that of another, lest I should be unhappy by my partner's fault."

"I have met," said the Princess," with many who live single for that reason; but I never found that their prudence ought to raise envy. They dream away their time without friendship, without fondness, and are driven to rid themselves of the day for which they have no use, by childish amusements or vicious delights. They act as beings under the constant sense of some known inferiority, that fills their minds with rancour and their tongues with censure. They are peevish at home, and malevolent abroad; and, as the outlaws of human nature, make it their business and their pleasure to disturb that society which debars them from its privileges. To live without feeling or exciting sympathy, to be fortunate without adding to the felicity of others, or afflicted without tasting the balm of pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude; it is not retreat, but exclusion from mankind. Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures."