skulking in a frown, Haughtiness sitting on the triumphal arch of an eyebrow, and Shame lurking under the eyelids; then, in wise bystanders, we might see Conjecture drawing the eyebrows together, or Amazement lifting them up. A man in place bringing his flexible countenance to the taste of the present times, smiling about the mouth as if he was pleased with the change, but wearing a little gloom on the forehead that betrays his fear of losing by it. Men that never were of any conse quence wrapping themselves up in the mystery of politicks, and seeming significant; as if, when times alter, they had a right to expect to be wise. Then the vacant, smiling countenances of those civil people that would intimate they would do any thing for any body. The asses that, in lions' skins, have brayed for their party, throwing off their fierceness, and appear ing in their proper shape of patient folly, that will carry a heavy burden through dirty roads. Then the state swallows, that have ever lived in the sunshine of favour, withdrawing from the declining season of power. Then the thermometers, weathercocks, and dials of the state, will scarce know what to say, how to turn, or which way to point. They who have changed their coat with every blast, what must they do till they know which way the wind blows? Unhappy ignorance! that knows not if preferment comes from the east or from the west, or yet from the south!Then what will those noble patriots do whose honesty consists in being always angry, now they know not whom to be angry with? These occurrences give one too great an insight into mankind; for one receives bad impressions of them by seeing them in these hurries; while, for haste, they leave the cloak of hypocrisy behind, and show the patched, stained, and motley habit of their minds.

"All I expect, is, to see those that lately have appeared as knaves look like fools; those that have looked like fools, appear as knaves. I would the good precept, be angry and sin not, were divided between the parties in power and out of it; that the first would not sin, and the second would not be angry: but between the wickedness of the powerful, and the wrath of the disappointed, there is no peace in Israel." II 152, 153.

This is about the best of her seriousness; but her vocation is decidedly for satirical trifling. For example:

"I want to know how the world goes on. We stand still Dulness, in the so.

lemn garb of wisdom, wraps us in its gentle wing; and here we dream that others do ill, and happy are we that do nothing. One yawns, there is peace in solitude; another stirs the fire, and cries, how happy is liberty and independence; another takes a pinch of snuff, and praises leisure; another pulls a knotting shuttle out of her pocket, and commends a little innocent amusement; their neighbour, more laborious, making a lace with two bobbins, says business should be preferred to pleasure and diversions. How wise is every body by their own fireside, and how happy every one in their own way! What glorious things do the ambitious say of ambition, and what mighty phrases do they adorn the giant with! How civilly do the indolent speak of idleness, and how prettily do the trifling express trifles; how cunning do those think themselves who live in cities, and how innocent do they look upon themselves to be who dwell in the country!” II. 150, 151.

Among many reasons for being stupid, it may be urged it is being like other people, and living like one's neighbours; and indeed, without it, it may be difficult to love some neighbours as one's self. Now, seeing the necessity of being dull, you won't, I hope, take it amiss that you find me so; but consider I am involved in mists from the sea, and that the temperament of the air, and the manners of the place, contribute to my heaviness. It provokes me to hear people that live in a fog, talk of the smoke of London, and that they cannot breathe there: a proper reason for them to stay away who were made for nothing but to breathe. But people in town have other signs of life. But to the good folks that talk in that manner, nothing is an obstruction of life but an asthma." 1. 235.

It would be very easy to cite fifty such passages; but for those who have not already determined to look into the book for themselves, we fear we have already cited too much. We ought, indeed, to have noticed some passages of profound erudition about Horus and Cerberus, Horatius Cocles and Pythagoras; and also some of the elaborate eulogies bestowed on the dutchess of Portland, and my lord duke, and the infant marquis; but meritorious and characteristick as all these things are, we have no longer room for them. Upon the whole, we think the vivacity of these letters attractive: though it is sometimes

childish, and almost always theatrical. We think the familiar style excellent, and the eloquence abominable; and are of opinion, that they would have been infinitely more charming,, if two thirds of the wit could have been exchanged for a few traits of simplicity and affection. Comparing them even with the earliest letters of lady Mary Wortly, it is impossible not to be struck with the vast superiority of the latter, in sound sense, good taste, and facility. There is, in those delightful compositions, such a mixture of just thinking and solid sagacity, as gives both dignity and relief to the wit and trifling which intervenes; and the trifling itself is far more graceful and striking, both because it is less laboured, and infinitely less verbose. Mrs. Montagu certainly comes nearest that admirable model in her lighter strokes of personal satire, and the purity of such parts of her diction as she had not determined to make splendid.

In making these strictures on the letters before us, we do not forget

that they were all written under the age of twenty-three; and have even a reasonable degree of faith in the editor, when he assures us, that if we will only have patience, we shall find her hand improve astonishingly in the course of the next five or six volumes. All we say is, that there are great faults in the volumes before us; and that we do not exactly perceive the necessity of reading the bad letters before we are favoured with the good. If the letters were all as good as lady Mary's, the editor may depend upon it, that the publick will neither buy nor admire twenty volumes of them; but if there be ten or twelve volumes out of the twenty that are not quite so good, we are clearly of opinion, that the best thing he can do for his aunt's glory, and his own credit, is to suppress these twelve; together with four or five of the remaining eight. There are many works, besides those of the old Sybil, the value of which may be prodigiously increased by diminishing their number.

THERE are two questions to be asked respecting every new publication: Is it worth buying? Is it worth borrowing? and we would advise our readers to weigh diligently the importance of these interrogations, before they take any decided step as to this work of Mr. Edgeworth; the more especially as the name carries with it considerable authority, and seems, in the estimation of the unwary, almost to include the idea of purchase. For our own part, we would rather decline giving a direct answer to these questions; and shall content our selves, for the present, with making a few such slight observations as may enable the sagacious to con

jecture what our direct answer would be, were we compelled to be more explicit.

One great and signal praise we think to be the eminent due of Mr. Edgeworth: in a canting age he does not cant; at a period when hypocrisy and fanaticism will almost certainly ensure the success of any publication, he has constantly disdained to have recourse to any such arts; without ever having been accused of disloyalty or irreligion, he is not always harping upon church and king, in order to catch at a little popularity, and sell his books; he is manly, independent, liberal; and maintains enlightened opinions, with discretion and honesty. There is al

so in this work of Mr. Edgeworth an agreeable diffusion of anecdote and example, such as a man acquires who reads with a view to talking or writing. With these merits, we cannot say that Mr. Edgeworth is either very new, very profound, or very apt to be right in his opinions. He is active, enterprising, and unprejudiced; but we have not been very much instructed by what he has written, or always satisfied that he has got to the bottom of his subject.

On one subject, however, we cordially agree with this gentleman; and return him our thanks for the courage with which he has combated the excessive abuse of classical learning in England. It is a subject upon which we have long wished for an opportunity of saying something and one which we consider to be of the very highest importance.

"The principal defect," says Mr. Edgeworth, "in the present system of our great schools is, that they devote too large a portion of time to Latin and Greek. It is true, that the attainment of classical literature is highly desirable; but it should not, or rather it need not, be the exclusive object of boys during eight or nine years.

"Much less time, judiciously managed, would give them an acquaintance with the classicks sufficient for all useful purposes, and would make them as good scholars, as gentlemen or professional men need to be. It is not requisite, that every man should make Latin or Greek verses; therefore, a knowledge of prosody beyond the structure of hexameter and pentameter verses, is as worthless an acquisition as any which folly or fashion has introduced amongst the higher classes of mankind. It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that there are some rare exceptions; but even party prejudice would allow, that the persons alluded to must have risen to eminence, though they had never written sopphicks or iambicks. Though preceptors, parents, and the publick in general, may be convinced of the absurdity of making boys spend so much of life in learning what can be of no use to them; such are the difficulties of making any change in the ancient rules of great establishments, that masters themselves, however reasonable, dare not, and cannot make sudden alterations.

"The only remedies that can be sug

gested might be, perhaps, to take those boys, who are not intended for professions in which deep scholarship is necessary, away from school before they reach the highest classes, where prosody, and Greek and Latin verses are required

"In the college of Dublin, where an admirable course of instruction has been long established, where this course is superintended by men of acknowledged learning and abilities, and pursued by students of uncommon industry, such is the force of example, and such the fear of appearing inferiour in trifles to English universities, that much pains have been lately taken to introduce the practice of writing Greek and Latin verses, and much solicitude has been shown about the prosody of the learned languages, without any atten tion being paid to the prosody of our own. Boarding houses for the scholars at Eton and Westminster, which are at present mere lodging houses, might be kept hours when the boys were not in their pubby private tutors, who might, during the lick classes, assist them in acquiring general literature, or such knowledge as might be advantageous for their respective professions.

"New schools, that are not restricted to any established routine, should give a fair trial to experiments in education, which afford a rational prospect of success. If nothing can be altered in the old schools, leave them as they are. Destroy nothing; injure none; but let the publick try whe ther they cannot have something better. If the experiment do not succeed, the publick will be convinced that they ought to acquiesce in the established methods of instruction, and parents will send their children to the ancient seminaries with increased confidence." p. 47-49.

We are well aware that nothing very new can remain to be said upon a topick so often debated. The complaints we have to make are at least as old as the time of Locke and Dr. Samuel Clarke; and the evil which is the subject of these complaints, has certainly rather increased than diminished, since the period of those two great men. A hundred years, to be sure, is a very little time for the duration of a national errour; and it is so far from being reasonable to look for its decay at so short a date, that it can hardly be expected, within such limits, to have displayed the full bloom of its imbecility.

There are several feelings to which attention must be paid, before the question of classical learning can be fairly and temperately discussed. We are apt, in the first place, to remember the immense benefits which the study of the classicks once conferred on mankind; and to feel for those models on which the taste of Europe has been formed, something like sentiments of gratitude and obligation. This is all well enough, so long as it continues to be a mere feeling; but, as soon as it interferes with action, it nourishes dangerous prejudices about education. Nothing will do in the pursuit of knowledge, but the blackest ingratitude. The moment we have got up the ladder, we must kick it down. As soon as we have passed over the bridge, we must let it rot. When we have got upon the shoulders of the ancients, we must look over their heads. The man who forgets the friends of his childhood in real life, is base; but he who clings to the props of his childhood in literature, must be content to remain as ignorant as he was when a child. His business is to forget, disown and deny; to think himself above every thing which has been of use to him in time past; and to cultivate that exclusively from which he expects future advantage: in short, to do every thing for the advancement of his knowledge, which it would be infamous to do for the advancement of his fortune. If mankind still derive advantage from classical literature proportionate to the labour they bestow upon it, let their labour and their study proceed; but the moment we cease to read Latin and Greek for the solid utility we derive from them, it would be a very romantick application of human talents to do so from any feeling of gratitude, and recollection of past service.

To almost every Englishman up to the age of three or four and twenty, classical learning has been the great object of existence; and

no man is very apt to suspect, or very much pleased to hear, that what he has done for so long a time was not worth doing. His classical literature, too, reminds every man of the scenes of his childhood, and brings to his fancy several of the most pleasing associations which we are capable of forming. A certain sort of vanity, also, very naturally grows among men occupied in a common pursuit. Classical quotations are the watchwords of scholars, by which they distinguish each other from the ignorant and illiterate; and Greek and Latin are insensibly become almost the only test of a cultivated mind.

Some men through indolence, others through ignorance, and most through necessity, submit to the established education of the times; and seek for their children that species of distinction which happens, at the period in which they live, to be stamped with the approbation of mankind. This mere question of convenience, every parent must determine for himself. A poor man, who has his fortune to gain, must be a quibbling theologian, or a classical pedant, as fashion dictates; and he must vary his errour with the errour of the times. But it would be much more fortunate for mankind, if the publick opinion, which regulates the pursuits of individuals, were more wise and enlightened than it at present is.

All these considerations make it extremely difficult to procure a candid hearing on this question; and to refer this branch of education to the only proper criterion of every branch of education-its utility in future life.

There are two questions which grow out of this subject: 1st, How far is any sort of classical education useful? 2d, How far is that particular classical education, adopted in this country, useful?

Latin and Greek are, in the first place, useful, as they inure children

to intellectual difficulties, and make the life of a young student what it ought to be, a life of considerable labour. We do not, of course, mean to confine this praise exclusively to the study of Latin and Greek; or to suppose that other difficulties might not be found which it would be useful to overcome: but though Latin and Greek have this merit in common with many arts and sciences, still they have it; and, if they do nothing else, they at least secure a solid and vigorous application at a period of life which materially influences all other periods.

To go through the grammar of one language thoroughly, is of great use for the mastery of every other grammar; because there obtains, through all languages, a certain analogy to each other in their grammatical construction. Latin and Greek have now mixed themselves, etymologically, with all the languages of modern Europe; and with none more than our own; so that it is necessary to read these two tongues for other objects than themselves.

The two ancient languages are, as mere inventions, as pieces of mechanism, incomparably more beautiful than any of the modern languages of Europe. Their mode of signifying time and case by terminations, instead of auxiliary verbs and particles, would, of itself, stamp their superiority. Add to this, the copiousness of the Greek language, with the fancy, majesty and harmony of its compounds; and there are quite sufficient reasons why the classicks should be studied for the beauties of language. Compared to them, merely as vehicles of thought and passion, all modern languages are dull, ill contrived, and barbarous.

That a great part of the scriptures has come down to us in the Greek language, is, of itself, a reason, if all others were wanting, why education should be planned so as to produce a supply of Greek scholars.

The cultivation of style is very justly made a part of education. Every thing which is written is meant either to please or to instruct. The second object it is difficult to effect, without attending to the first; and the cultivation of style is the acquisition of those rules and literary habits which sagacity anticipates, or experience shows to be the most effectual means of pleasing. Those works are the best which have longest stood the test of time, and pleased the greatest number of exercised minds. Whatever, therefore, our conjectures may be, we cannot be so sure that the best modern writers can afford us as good models as the ancients; we cannot be certain that they will live through the revolutions of the world, and continue to please in every climate, under every species of government, through every stage of civilisation. The moderns have been well taught by their masters; but the time is hardly yet come when the necessity for such instruction no longer exists. We may still borrow descriptive power from Tacitus; dignified perspicuity from Livy; simplicity from Cesar; and from Homer, some portion of that light and heat which, dispersed into ten thousand channels, has filled the world with bright images and illustrious thoughts. Let the cultivator of modern literature addict himself to the purest models of taste which France, Italy, and England could supply, he might still learn from Virgil to be majestick; and from Tibullus to be tender; he might not yet look upon the face of nature as Theocritus saw it; nor might he reach those springs of pathos with which Euripides softened the hearts of his audience. In short, it appears to us, that there are so many excellent reasons why a certain number of scholars should be kept up in this, and in every civilized country, that we should consider every system of education from