whigs had offended the ftate fman, as they unhappily did the doctor, who knows but you might have brought in the Pretender? Pray let me afk you one question, between you and me: If you had been first minifter under that prince, would you have tolerated the Proteftant religion, or not? Swift. Ha! Mr. Secretary, are you witty upon me? Do you think, becaufe Sunderland took a fancy to make you a great man in the ftate, that he could alfo make you as great in wit as nature made me? No, no; wit is like grace, it must come from above. You can no more get that from the king, than my lords the bishops can the other. And tho' I will own you had fome, yet believe me, my friend, it was no match for mine. I think you have not vanity enough to pretend to a competition with me. my Addifon. I have been often told by friends that I was rather too modeft; fo, if you please, I will not decide this difpute for myself, but refer it to Mer cury, the god of wit, who happens juft now to be coming this way, with a foul he has newly brought to the fhades. Hail, divine Hermes! A queftion of precedence in the clafs of wit and humour, over which you prefide, having arifen between me and my countryman, Dr. Swift, we beg leave Mercury. Dr. Swift, I rejoice to fee you. How does my old lad? How does honeft Lemuel Gulliver? Have you been in Lilliput lately, or in the Flying Ifland, or with your good nurfe Glumdalclitch? Pray, when did you eat a cruft with Lord Peter? Is Jack as mad ftill as ever? I hear the poor fellow is almoft got well by more gentle ufage. If he had but more food he would be as much in his fenfes as brother Martin himself. But Martin, they tell me, has fpawned a ftrange brood of fellows, called Methodifts, Moravians, Hutchinfonians, who are madder than Jack was in his worst days. It is a pity you are not alive again to be at them; they would be excellent food for your tooth; and a fharp tooth it was, as ever was placed in the gum of a mortal; aye, and a frong one too, The hardeft food would not break it, and it could pierce the thicket skulls. Indeed it was like one of Cerberus's teeth: one fhould not have thought it belonged to a man.Mr. Addison, I beg your pardon, I fhould have spoken to you fooner; but I was fo ftruck with the fight of the doctor, that I forgot for a time the refpects due to you. Swift. Addifon, I think our difpute is decided before the judge has heard the cause. Addifon. I own it is in your favour, and I fubmit-but Mercury. Do not be difcouraged, friend Addifon. Apollo perhaps would have given a different judgment. I am a wit, and a rogue, and a foe to all dignity. Swift and I naturally like one another: he worships me more than Jupiter, and I honour him more than Homer; but yet, I affure you, I have a great value for youSir Roger de Coverley, Will Honeycomb, Will Wimble, the country gentleman in the Freeholder, and twenty more characters, drawn with the fineft ftrokes of natural wit and humour in your excellent writings, feat you very high in the clafs of my authors, though not quite fo high as the dean of St. Patrick's. Perhaps you might have come nearer to him, if the decency of your nature and cautiousness of your judgment would have given you leave. But if in the force and fpirit of his wit he has the advantage, how much does he yield to you in all the polite and elegant graces; in the fine touches of delicate fentiment; in developing the fecret fprings of the foul; in fhewing all the mild lights and fhades of a character; in marking diftinctly every line, and every foft gradation of tints which would efcape the common eye! Who ever painted like you the beautiful parts of human nature, and brought them out from under the fhade even of the greatest fimplicity, or the most ridiculous weak. neffes; fo that we are forced to admire, and feel that we venerate, even while we are laughing? Swift could do nothing that approaches to this.He could draw an ill face very well, or caricature a good one with a masterly hand: but there was all his power; and, if I am to fpeak as a god, a worthless power power it is. Yours is divine: it tends to improve and exalt human nature. Swift Pray, good Mercury, (if I may have leave to say a word for myfelf) do you think that my talent was of no ufe to correct human nature? Is whipping of no use to mend naughty boys? Mercury. Men are not fo patient of whipping as boys, and I feldom have known a rough fatirift mend them. But I will allow that you have done fome good in that way, though not half fo much as Addifon did in his. And now you are here, if Pluto and Proferpine would take my advice, they should difpofe of you both in this manner :— When any hero comes hither from earth, who wants to be humbled, (as moft heroes do) they should fet Swift upon him to bring him down. The fame good of fice he may frequently do to a faint fwoln too much with the wind of fpiritual pride, or to a philofopher, vain of his wisdom and virtue. He will foon fhew the first that he cannot be holy without being humble; and the laft, that, with all.his boafted morality, he is but a better kind of Yahoo. I would alfo have him apply his anticofmetic wash to the painted face of female vanity, and his rod, which draws blood at every ftroke, to the hard back of infolent folly or petulant wit. But you, Mr. Addifon, fhould be employed to comfort and raife the fpirits of thofe whofe good and noble fouls are dejected with a fenfe of fome infirmities in their nature. To them you should hold your fair and charitable mirrour, which would bring to their fight all their hidden perfections, caft over the reft a foftening fhade, and put them in a temper fit for Elyfium. Adieu: I muft now return to my bufi. nefs above. Dialogues of the Dead. § 8. The Hill of Science. A Vifion. In that season of the year when the ferenity of the fky, the various fruits which cover the ground, the difcoloured foliage of the trees, and all the fweet, but fading graces of infpiring autumn, open the mind to benevolence, and difpofe it for contemplation, I was wandering in a beautiful and romantic country, till curiofity began to give way to wearinefs; and I fat me down on the fragment of a rock overgrown with mofs, where the rustling of the falling leaves, the dashing of waters, and the hum of the diftant city, foothed my mind into the most perfect tranquillity, and fleep infenfibly ftole upon me, as I was indulging the agreeable reveries which the ob jects around me naturally inspired. I immediately found myself in a vaft extended plain, in the middle of which arofe a mountain higher than I had before any conception of. It was covered with a multitude of people, chiefly youth; many of whom preffed forwards with the livelieft expreffion of ardour in their countenance, though the way was in many places fteep and difficult. I obferved, that thofe who had but just begun to climb the hill thought themfelves not far from the top; but as they proceeded, new hills were continually ring to their view, and the fummit of the higheft they could before difcern seemed but the foot of another, till the mountain at length appeared to lose itfelf in the clouds. As I was gazing on thefe things with aftonishment, my good genius fuddenly appeared: The mountain before thee, faid he, is the Hill of Science. On the top is the temple of Truth, whofe head is above the clouds, and a veil of pure light covers her face. Obferve the progress of her votaries; be filent and attentive. I faw that the only regular approach to the mountain was by a gate, called the gate of languages. It was kept by a woman of a penfive and thoughtful appearance, whofe lips were continually moving, as though the repeated fomething to herfelf. Her name was Memory. On entering this first enclosure, I was stunned with a confufed murmur of jarring voices, and diffonant founds; which increased upon me to fuch a degree, that I was utterly confounded, and could compare the noife to nothing but the confufion of tongues at Babel. The road was alfo rough and ftony; and rendered more difficult by heaps of rubbifh continually tumbled down from the higher parts of the mountain; and bro ken ruins of ancient buildings, which the travellers were obliged to climb over at every step; infomuch that many, dif gufted with fo rough a beginning, turned S(3 back, back, and attempted the mountain no more: while others, having conquered this difficulty, had no fpirits to afcend further, and fitting down on fome fragment of the rubbish, harangued the multitude below with the greatest marks of importance and felf complacency. About half way up the hill, I obferved on each fide the path a thick foreft covered with continual fogs, and cut out into labyrinths, crofs alleys, and ferpentine walks, entangled with thorns and briars. This was called the wood of Error and I heard the voices of many who were loft up and down in it, calling to one another, and endeavouring in vain to extricate themselves. The trees in many places fhot their boughs over the path, and a thick mist often rested on it; yet never fo much but that it was difcernible by the light which beamed from the countenance of Truth. In the pleafanteft part of the mountain were placed the bowers of the Mufes, whofe office it was to cheer the fpirits of the travellers, and encourage their fainting fteps with fongs from their divine harps. Not far from hence were the fields of Fiction, filled with a variety of wild flowers fpringing up in the greateft luxuriance, of richer fcents and brighter colours than I had obferved in any other climate. And near them was the dark walk of Allegory, fo artificially fhaded, that the light at noon-day was never ftronger than that of a bright moon-fhine. This gave it a pleasingly romantic air for thofe who delighted in contemplation. The paths and alleys were perplexed with intricate windings, and were all terminated with the ftatue of a Grace, a Virtue, or a Muse. After I had obferved these things, I turned my eye towards the multitudes who were climbing the fleep afcent, and obferved amongst them a youth of a lively look, a piercing eye, and fomething fiery and irregular in all his motions. His name was Genius. He darted like an eagle up the mountain, and left his companions gazing after him with envy and admiration: but his progrefs was unequal, and interrupted by a thoufand caprices. When Pleasure warbled in the valley he mingled in her train. When Pride beckoned towards the precipice he ventured to the tottering edge. He delighted in devious and untried paths; and made fo many excurfions from the road, that his feebler companions often outtripped him. I obferved that the Mufes beheld him with partiality; but Truth often frowned and turned afide her face. While Genius was thus wafting his frength in eccentric flights, I faw a perfon of a very different appearance, named Application. He crept along with a flow and unremitting pace, his eyes fixed on the top of the mountain, patiently removing every ftone that obftructed his way, till he faw moft of thofe below him who had at first derided his flow and toilfome progrefs. Indeed there were few who afcended the hill with equal and uninterrupted fteadiness; for, befide the difficulties of the way, they were continually folicited to turn afide by a numerous crowd of Appetites Paffions, and Pleasures,whose importunity, when they had once complied with, they became less and lefs able to refift; and though they often returned to the path, the afperities of the road were more feverely felt, the hill appeared more fleep and rugged, the fruits which were whole fome and refreshing feemed harsh and ill-tafted, their fight grew dim, and their feet tript at every little obstruction. I faw, with fome furprize, that the Mufes, whofe bufinefs was to cheer and encourage thofe who were toiling up the afcent, would often fing in the bowers of Pleafure, and accompany thofe who were enticed away at the call of the Paffions; they accompanied them, however, but a little way, and always forfook them when they loft fight of the hill. The tyrants then doubled their chains upon the unhappy captives, and led them away, without refiftance, to the cells of Ignorance, or the manfions of Mifeyy. Amongst the innumerable se ducers, who were endeavouring to draw away the votaries of Truth from the path of Science, there was one, fo little formidable in her appearance, and fo gentle and languid in her attempts, that I fhould fcarcely have taken notice of her, but for the numbers fhe had imperceptibly loaded with her chains. Indolence (for fo fhe was called) far from proceeding proceeding to open hoftilities, did not attempt to turn their feet out of the path, but contented herself with retarding their progrefs; and the purpose fhe could not force them to abandon, fhe perfuaded them to delay. Her touch had a power like that of the torpedo, which withered the ftrength of thofe who came within its influence. Her unhappy captives ftill turned their faces towards the temple, and always hoped to arrive there; but the ground feemed to flide from beneath their feet, and they found themselves at the bottom, before they fufpected they had changed their place. The placid ferenity, which at first appeared in their countenance, changed by degrees into a melancholy languor, which was tinged with deeper and deeper gloom, as they glided down the ftream of Infignificance; a dark and fluggish water, which is curled by no breeze, and enlivened by no murmur, till it falls into a dead fea, where ftartled paflengers are awakened by the fhock, and the next moment buried in the gulph of Oblivion. Of all the unhappy deferters from the paths of Science, none feemed lefs able to return than the followers of Indolence. The captives of Appetite and Paffion could often feize the moment when their tyrants were languid or afleep to escape from their enchantment; but the dominion of Indolence was conftant and unremitted, and feldom refifted, till refiftance was in vain. After contemplating these things, I turned my eyes towards the top of the mountain, where the air was always pure and exhilarating, the path fhaded with laurels and other ever-greens, and the effulgence which beamed from the face of the goddefs feemed to fhed a glory round her votaries. Happy, faid I, are they who are permitted to afcend the mountain-but while I was pronouncing this exclamation with uncom mon ardour, I faw ftanding befide me a form of diviner features and a more benign radiance. Happier, faid fhe, are those whom Virtue conducts to the manfions of Content! What, faid I, does Virtue then refide in the vale? I am found, faid fhe, in the vale, and I illuminate the mountain: I cheer the cot tager at his toil, and infpire the fage at § 9. On the Love of Life. Age, that leffens the enjoyment of life, encreafes our defire of living. Thofe dangers which, in the vigour of youth, we had learned to defpife, affume new terrors as we grow old. Our caution encreafing as our years encrease, fear becomes at laft the prevailing pas fion of the mind; and the fmall remainder of life is taken up in ufelefs efforts to keep off our end, or provide for a con tinued existence. Strange contradiction in our nature, and to which even the wife are liable! If I fhould judge of that part of life which lies before me by that which I have already feen, the profpect is hideous. Expèrience tells me, that my paft enjoyments have brought no real felicity; and fenfation affures me, that thofe ĺ have felt are stronger than thofe which are yet to come. Yet experience and fenfation in vain perfuade; hope, more powerful than either, dreffes out the diftant profpect in fancied beauty; fome happiness, in long perfpective, ftill beckons me to purfue; and, like a lof ing gamefter, every new difappointment encreafes my ardour to continue the game. Whence then is this encreased love of life, which grows upon us with our years? whence comes it, that we thus make greater efforts to preferve our exiftence, at a period when it becomes fcarce worth the keeping? Is it that Nature, attentive to the prefervation of mankind, encreases our wishes to live, Sf4 while while the leffens our enjoyments; and, as fhe robs the fenfes of every pleasure, equips Imagination in the fpoils ? Life would be infupportable to an old man, who, loaded with infirmities, feared death no more than when in the vigour of manhood; the numberlefs calamities of decaying nature, and the conscious nefs of furviving every pleasure, would at once induce him, with his own hand, to terminate the scene of mifery; but happily the contempt of death forfakes him at a time when it could only be prejudicial; and life acquires an imaginary value, in proportion as its real value is no more. Our attachment to every object around usencreases, in general, from the length of our acquaintance with it. "I would "not chufe," fays a French philofopher, to fee an old poft pulled up, with which I had been long acquainted." A mind long habituated to a certain fet of objects, infenfibly becomes fond of feeing them; vifits them from habit, and parts from them with reluctance: from hence proceeds the avarice of the old in every kind of poffeffion; they love the world and all that it produces; they love life and all its advantages; not because it gives them pleasure, but because they have known it long. Chinvang the Chafte, afcending the throne of China, commanded that all who were unjustly detained in prifon during the preceding reigns fhould be fet free. Among the number who came to thank their deliverer on this occafion, there appeared a majestic old man, who, falling at the emperor's feet, addreffed him as follows: Great father of Chi"na, behold a wretch, now eighty-five years old, who was fhut up in a dungeon at the age of twenty-two. I "was imprifoned, though a ftranger to crime, or without being even con. "fronted by my accufers. I have now lived in folitude and darkness for "more than fifty years, and am grown familiar with diftrefs. As yet, dazzled "with the fplendor of that fun to which "you have reftored me, I have been wandering the fireets to find out fome "friend that would affift, or relieve, " or remember me; but my friends, my family, and relations, are all dead, " and I am forgotten. Permit me then, "O Chinvang, to wear out the wretch"ed remains of life in my former pri"fon; the walls of my dungeon are to "me more pleafing than the moft fplen"did palace: I have not long to live, and fhall be unhappy except I spend "the rest of my days where my youth was paffed; in that prifon from "whence you were pleased to release "me." The old man's paffion for confinement is fimilar to that we all have for life. We are habituated to the prifon, we look round with difcontent, are difpleafed with the abode, and yet the length of our captivity only encreases our fondnefs for the cell. The trees we have. planted, the houses we have built, or the pofterity we have begotten, all serve to bind us clofer to the earth, and embitter our parting. Life fues the young like a new acquaintance; the companion, as yet unexhaufted, is at once inftructive and amufing; its company pleafes, yet, for all this, it is but little regarded. To us, who are declined in years, life appears like an old friend; its jefts have been anticipated in former converfation; it has no new story to make us fmile, no new improvement with which to furprize, yet ftill we love it; deflitute of every enjoyment, ftill we love it, husband the wasting treasure with increafing frugality, and feel all the poignancy of anguish in the fatal feparation. Sir Philip Mordaunt was young, beautiful, fincere, brave, an Englishman, He had a complete fortune of his own, and the love of the king his master, which was equivalent to riches. Life opened all her treafures before him, and promifed a long fucceffion of happiness. He came, tafted of the entertainment, but was difgufted even at the beginning. He profeffed an averfion to living; was tired of walking round the fame circle; had tried every enjoyment, and found them all grow weaker at every repetition. If life be, in youth, fo dif "pleafing," cried he to himself, "what "will it appear when age comes on? "if it be at prefent indifferent, fure it "will then be execrable." This thought embittered every reflection; till, at laft, |