How many a doubt pursues! how oft we sigh, One flower of truth, the busy crowd we shun, And when, perhaps, in pride of chemic powers, Or, should we roam, in metaphysic maze, Some Dr-mm-d from the north, more ably skill'd, And M-sgr-ve's' but more clumsy than the rest. Through fair-built theories of former days, Like other Goths, to ruin than to build, In Science, too-how many a system, raised 1 See a curious work, entitled "Reflections upon Learning," written on the plan of Agrippa's "De Vanitate Scientiarum," but much more honestly and skilfully executed. 2 This historian of the Irish rebellions has outrun even his predecessor in the same task, Sir John Temple, for whose character with respect to veracity the reader may consult Carte's "Collection of Ormond's Original Papers," p. 207. See also Dr. Nalson's account of him, in the introduction to the second volume of his "Historic. Collect." He defends Strafford's conduct as "innocent and even audable." In the same spirit, speaking of the arbitrary sentences of the Star Chamber, he says,--"The severity of the Star Chamber, which was generally ascribed to Laud's passionate disposition, was perhaps, in itself, somewhat blame able." 4 That flexibility of temper and opinion, which the habits of skepticism are so calculated to produce, are thus pleaded for by Mr. Fox, in the very sketch of Monmouth to which I allude; and this part of the picture the historian may be thought to have drawn from himself. "One of the most conspicuous features in his character seems to have been a remarkable, and, as some think, a culpable degree of flexibility. That such a disposition is preferable to its opposite extreme, will be admitted by all who think that modesty, even in excess, is more nearly allied to wisdom than conceit and self-sufficiency. He who has attentively considered the political, or indeed the general concerns of life, may possibly go still further, and may rank a willingness to be convinced, or, in some cases, even without conviction, to concede our own opinion to that of other men, among the principal ingredients in the composition of practical wisdom."-It is right to observe, however, that the Skeptic's readiness of concession arises rather from uncertainty than conviction, more from a suspicion that his own opinion may be wrong, than from any persuasion that the opinion of his adversary is h Learning, whatsoe'er thy pomp and boast, Valetter'd minds have taught and charm'd men most. The rude, unread Columbus was our guide See grave Theology, when once she strays While hell itself, in India naught but smoke, right. "It may be so," was the courteous and skeptical formula with which the Dutch were accustomed to reply to the statements of ambassadors. See Lloyd's State Worthies, art. Sir Thomas Wyat. Descartes, who is considered as the parent of modern skepticism, says, that there is nothing in the whole range of philosophy which does not admit of two opposite opinions, and which is not involved in doubt and uncertainty. "In Philosophia nihil adhuc reperiri, de quo non in utramque partem disputatur, hoc est, quod non sit incertum et dubium." Gassendi is likewise to be added to the list of modern Skeptics, and Wedderkopff, in his Dissertation "De Scepticismo profano et sacro," (Argentorat. 1666,) has denounced Erasmus also as a follower of Pyrrho, for his opinions upon the Trinity, and some other subjects. To these, if we add the names of Bayle, Mallebranche, Dryden, Locke, &c. &c., I think there is no one who need be ashamed of doubting in such company. See this gentleman's Academic Questions. Papias lived about the time of the apostles, and is supposed to have given birth to the heresy of the Chilliastæ, whose heaven was by no means of a spiritual nature, but rather an anticipation of the Prophet of Hera's elysium. See Eusebius, Hist. Ecclesiast. lib. iii. cap. 33, and Hieronym. de Scriptor. Ecclesiast. From all I can find in these authors concerning Papias, it seems hardly fair to impute to him those gross imaginations in which the believers of the sensual millennium indulged. * King, in his Morsels of Criticism, vol. i., supposes the sun to be the receptacle of blessed spirits. The Indians call hell "the House of Smoke." See Picart upon the Religion of the Banians. The reader who is curious about infernal matters, may be edified by consulting Rusca de Inferno, particularly lib. ii. cap. 7, 8, where he will find the precise sort of fire ascertained in which wicked spirits are to be burned hereafter. Hail, modest Ignorance, thou goal and prize, Thou last, best knowledge of the simply wise! Hail, humble Doubt, when error's waves are past, How sweet to reach thy shelter'd port1 at last, There Faith retires, and keeps her white sail furl'd, Till call'd to spread it for a better world; While Patience, watching on the weedy shore, And, there, by changing skies nor lured nor And mutely waiting till the storm be o'er, It is now about seven years since I promised (and I grieve to think it is almost as long since we met) to dedicate to you the very first Book, of whatever size or kind, I should publish. Who could have thought that so many years would elapse, without my giving the least signs of life upon the subject of this important promise? Who could have imagined that a volume of doggerel, after all, would be the first offering that Gratitude would lay upon the shrine of Friendship? If you continue, however, to be as much interested about me and my pursuits as formerly, you will be happy to hear that doggerel is not my only occupation; but that I am preparing to throw my name to the Swans of the Temple of Immortality, leaving it, of course, to the said Swans to determine, whether they ever will take the trouble of picking it from the stream. In the mean time, my dear Woolriche, like an orthodox Lutheran, you must judge of me rather by my faith than my works; and however trifling 1 the tribute which I here offer, never doubt the fidelity with which I am, and always shall be, Your sincere and March 4, 1813. attached Friend, PREFACE. THE AUTHOR. THE Bag, from which the following Letters are selected, was dropped by a Twopenny Postman about two months since, and picked up by an emissary of the Society for the Suppression of Vice, who, supposing it might materially assist the private researches of that Institution, immediately took it to his employers, and was rewarded handsomely for his trouble. Such a treasury of secrets was worth a whole host of informers; and accordingly, like the Cupids of the poet (if I may use so profane a simile) who "fell at odds about the sweet-bag of a bee," those venerable Suppressors almost fought with each other for the Honor and delight of first ransacking the PostBag. Unluckily, however, it turned out, upon examination, that the discoveries of profligacy which it enabled them to make, lay chiefly in those upper regions of society, which their well-bred regulations forbid them to molest or meddle with. -In consequence, they gained but very few victims by their prize, and, after lying for a week or two under Mr. Hatchard's counter, the Bag, with its violated contents, was sold for a trifle to a friend of mine. 1" Chère Sceptique, douce pâture de mon ame, et l'unique port de salut à une esprit qui aime le repos!"-La Mothe le Гаует. 2 Ariosto, canto 35. $ Herrick. It happened that I had been just then seized with an ambition (having never tried the strength of my wing but in a Newspaper) to publish something or other in the shape of a Book; and it occurred to me that, the present being such a letter-writing era, a few of these Twopenny-Post Epistles, turned into easy verse, would be as light and popular a task as I could possibly select for a commencement. I did not, however, think it prudent to give too many Letters at first, and, accordingly, have been obliged (in order to eke out a sufficient number of pages) to reprint some of those trifles which had already appeared in the public journals. As in the battles of ancient times, the shades of the departed were sometimes seen among the combatants, so I thought I might manage to remedy the thinness of my ranks by conjuring up a few dead and forgotten ephemerons to fill them. Such are the motives and accidents that led to the present publication; and as this is the first time my Muse has ever ventured out of the go-cart of a Newspaper, though I feel all a parent's delight at seeing little Miss go alone, I am also not without a parent's anxiety, lest an unlucky fall should be the consequence of the experiment; and I need not point out how many living instances might be found, of Muses that have suffered very severely in their heads, from taking rather too early and rashly to their feet. Besides, a Book is so very different a thing from a Newspaper !-in the former, your doggerel, without either company or shelter, must stand shivering in the middle of a bleak page by itself; whereas, in the latter, it is comfortably backed by advertisements, and has sometimes even a speech of Mr. St-ph-n's, or something equally warm, for a chauffe-pié-so that, in general, the very reverso of "laudatur et alget" is its destiny. Ambition, however, must run some risks, and I shall be very well satisfied if the reception of these few Letters should have the effect of sending me to the Post-Bag for more 1 Pindar, Pyth. 2.-My friend certainly cannot add ουτ' εν ανδρασι λερασφορον. PREFACE TO THE FOURTEENTH EDITION. BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR. In the absence of Mr. Brown, who is at present on a tour through, I feel myself called upon, as his friend, to notice certain misconceptions and misrepresentations, to which this little volume of Trifles has given rise. In the first place, it is not true that Mr. Brown has had any accomplices in the work. A note, indeed, which has hitherto accompanied his Preface, may very naturally have been the origin of such a supposition; but that note, which was merely the coquetry of an author, I have, in the present edition, taken upon myself to remove, and Mr. Brown must therefore be considered (like the mother of that unique production, the Centaur, μονα και μονον1) as alone responsible for the whole contents of the volume. In the next place it has been said, that in consequence of this graceless little book, a certain distinguished Personage prevailed upon another distinguished Personage to withdraw from the author that notice and kindness with which he had so long and so liberally honored him. In this story there is not one syllable of truth. For the magnanimity of the former of these persons I would, indeed, in no case answer too rashly: but of the conduct of the latter towards my friend, I have a proud gratification in declaring, that it has never ceased to be such as he must remember with indelible gratitude; -a gratitude the more cheerfully and warmly paid, from its not bong incurred solely on his own account, but for kindness shared with those nearest and dearest to him. debt To the charge of being an Irishman, poor Mr. Brown pleads guilty; and I believe it must also be acknowledged that he comes of a Roman Catholic family: an avowal which I am aware is decisive of his utter reprobation, in the eyes of those exclusive patentees of Christianity, so worthy to have been the followers of a certain enlightened Bishop, Donatus, who held "that God is in Africa and not elsewhere." But from all this it does not necessarily follow that Mr. Brown is a Papist; and, indeed, I have the strongest reasons for suspecting that they, who say so, are somewhat mistaken. Not that I presume to have ascertained his opinions upon such subjects. All I profess to know of his orthodoxy is, that he has a Protestant wife and Bishop of Casæ Nigræ, in the fourth century. two or three little Protestant children, and that he has been seen at church every Sunday, for a whole year together, listening to the sermons of his truly reverend and amiable friend, Dr. and behaving there as well and as orderly as most people. There are yet a few other mistakes and falsehoods about Mr. Brown, to which I had intended, with all becoming gravity, to advert; but I begin to think the task is quite as useless as it is tiresome. Misrepresentations and calumnies of this sort are, like the arguments and statements of Dr. Duigenan, -not at all the less vivacious or less serviceable to their fabricators, for having been refuted and disproved a thousand times over. They are brought forward again, as good as new, whenever malice or stupidity may be in want of them; and are quite as useful as the old broken lantern, in Fielding's Amelia, which the watchman always keeps ready by him, to produce, in proof of riotous conduct, against his victims. I shall therefore give up the fruitless toil of vindication, and would even draw my pen over what I have already written, had I not promised to furnish my publisher with a Preface, and know not how else I could contrive to eke it out. I have added two or three more trifles to this edition, which I found in the Morning Chronicle, and knew to be from the pen of my friend. The rest of the volume remains in its original state. April 20, 1814. INTERCEPTED LETTERS, &c. LETTER I. FROM THE PR-NC-SS CH-RL-E OF W-L-S TO THE LADY B-RB-A ASHL-Y. My dear Lady Bab, you'll be shock'd, I'm afraid, When you hear the sad rumpus your Ponies have made; 1 A new reading has been suggested in the original of the Ode of Horace, freely translated by Lord Eld-n, page 166. In the line "Sive per Syrteis iter æstuosas," it is proposed, by a very trifling alteration, to read "Surtees," instead of "Syrteis," which brings the Ode, it is said, more home to the noble translator, and gives a peculiar force and aptness to the epi Since the time of horse-consuls, (now long out of date,) No nags ever made such a stir in the state. a year, It is still but too true you're a Papist, my dear,) their kicks. Off at once to Papa, in a flurry he fliesFor Papa always does what these statesmen advise. On condition that they'll be, in turn, so polite As in no case whate'er to advise him too right"Pretty doings are here, Sir, (he angrily cries, While by dint of dark eyebrows he strives to look wise) """Tis a scheme of the Romanists, so help me God! "To ride over your most Royal Highness rough shod "Excuse, Sir, my tears-they're from loyalty's source "Bad enough 'twas for Troy to be sack'd by a Horse, "But for us to be ruin'd by Ponies still worse!" Quick a Council is call'd-the whole Cabinet sitsThe Archbishops declare, frighten'd out of their wits, That if once Popish Ponies should eat at my manger, From that awful moment the Church is in danger! As, give them but stabling, and shortly no stalls Will suit their proud stomachs but those at St. Paul's. The Doctor, and he, the devout man of Leather, V-ns-tt-t, now laying their Saint-heads together, Declare that these skittish young a-bominations Lord H-rr-by, hoping that no one imputes thet "æstuosas." I merely throw out this emendation for the earned, being unable myself to decide upon its merits. 2 This young Lady, who is a Roman Catholic, had lately made a present of some beautiful Ponies to the Pr-nc-ss. 3 Mr. Addington, so nicknamed. • Alluding to a tax lately laid upon leather. "If the Pr-nc-ss will keep them, (says Lord In short, until the House of Guelph C-stl-r-gh,) Lays Lords and Commons on the shelf, "To make them quite harmless, the only true way it out." Should this be thought cruel, his Lordship proposes checks All, that can well be understood I dare be sworn 'tis full as sensible. But, to your work's immortal credit, "Which, however high-mettled, their gamesomeness Last levee-morn he look'd it through, This proposal received pretty general applause From the statesmen around and the neck-breaking clause Had a vigor about it, which soon reconciled So the snaffles, my dear, were agreed to, nem. con., Which, to a fond, admiring nation, He thinks with you, th' imagination I shall drive to your door in these Vetos some day, On checks and balances, and so forth. LETTER II. FROM COLONEL M'M-H-N TO G-LD FR-NC-S DEAR Sir, I've just had time to look But now, he trusts, we're coming near a With view to which, I've his command But, pray, whate'er you may impart, write $ "The truth indeed seems to be, that having lived so long abroad as evidently to have tost, in a great degree, the use of his native language, Mr. Leckie has gradually come not only to speak, but to feel, like a foreigner." Edinburgh 1 The question whether a Veto was to be allowed to the Crown in the appointment of Irish Catholic Bishops was, at this time, very generally and actively agitated. 2 For an account of this extraordinary work of Mr. Leckie, see the "Edinburgh Review," vol. xx. Review. |