in the despicable pieces of Scarron, which are now deservedly forgotten even in the provinces.'

As every condition of life, and every turn of mind, has some peculiar temptation and propensity to evil, let not the man of uprightness and honesty be morose and surly in his practice of virtue; let not him, whose delicacy and penetration discern with disgust those imperfections in others from which he himself is not free, indulge perpetual peevishness and discontent; nor let learning and knowledge be pleaded as an excuse for not condescending to the common offices and duties of civil life: for as no man should be wellbred, at the expence of his Virtue; no man should practice virtue, so as to deter others from Imitation, Z.

N° 88. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1753.

·Semperque relinqui

Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur

Ira viam

-She seems alone,

To wander in her sleep, thro' ways unknown,
Guileless and dark-

VIRG.

DRYDEN.

NEWTON, whose power of investigating nature few will deny to have been superior to their own, confesses, that he cannot account for gravity, the first principle of his system, as a property communicable to matter; or conceive the phænomena supposed to be the effects of such a principle, to be otherwise produced, than by the immediate and perpetual influence of the Almighty: and, perhaps, those who most attentively consider the phænomena of the moral and natural world, will be most inclined to admit the agency of invisible beings.

In dreams, the mind appears to be wholly passive; for dreams are so far from being the effect of a voluntary effort, that we neither know of what we shall dream, nor whether we shall dream at all.

The human mind does not, indeed, appear to have any power equal to such an effect; for the ideas conceived in dreams, without the intervention of sensible objects, are much more perfect and strong than can be formed at other times by the utmost effort of the most lively imagination: and it can scarce be supposed, that the mind is more vigorous when we sleep, than when we are awake; especially if it be true, as I have before remarked, that 'in sleep the power of memory is wholly suspended, and the understanding is employed only about such objects as present themselves, without comparing the past with the present;' except we judge of the soul by a maxim which some deep philosophers have held concerning horses, that when the tail is cut off, the rest of the members become more strong.

In lunacy, as in dreams, ideas are conceived which material objects do not excite; and which the force of imagination, exerted by a voluntary effort, cannot form; but the mind of the lunatic, besides being impressed with the images of things that do not fall under the cognizance of his senses, is prevented from receiving corresponding images from those that do. When the visionary monarch looks round upon his clothes which he has decorated with the spoils of his bed, his mind does not conceive the ideas of rags and straw, but of velvet, embroidery, and gold and when he gazes at the bounds of his cell, the image impressed upon his mind is not that of a naked wall which encloses an area of ten feet square; but of wainscot, and painting, and tapestry, the bounds of a spacious apartment adorned with magnificent furniture, and crowded with splendid dependents.

Of the lunatic it is also universally true, that his understanding is perverted to evils, which a mere perversion of the understanding does not necessarily imply; he either sits torpid in despair, or is busied in the contrivance or the execution of mischief. But if lunacy is ultimately produced by mere material causes, it is difficult to shew, why misery or malevo. lence should always be complicated with absurdity; why madness should not sometimes produce instances of frantic and extravagant kindness, of a benevolent purpose formed upon erroneous principles and pursued by ridiculous means, and of an honest and harmless cheerfulness arising from the fancied felicity of others.

A lunatic is, indeed, sometimes merry, but the merry lunatic is never kind; his sport is always mischief; and mischief is rather aggravated than atoned by wantonness; his disposition is always evil in proportion to the height of his phrenzy; and upon this occasion it may be remarked, that if every approach to madness is a deviation to ill, every deviation to ill may be considered as an approach to madness.

Among other unaccountable phænomena in lunacy, is the invincible absurdity of opinion with respect some single object, while the mind operates with its full vigour upon every other: it sometimes happens, that when this object is presented to the mind, reason is thrown quite out of her seat, and the perversion of the understanding for a time becomes general; but sometimes it still continues to be perverted but in part, and the absurdity itself is defended with all the force of regular argumentation.

A most extraordinary instance of this kind may now be communicated to the public, without injury to a good man, or a good cause which he successfully maintained.

Mr. Simon Browne, a dissenting teacher of ex

emplary life and eminent intellectual abilities, after having been some time seized with melancholy, desisted from the duties of his function, and could not be persuaded to join in any act of worship either public or private. His friends often urged him to account for this change in his conduct, at which they expressed the utmost grief and astonishment; and after much importunity he told them, that he had fallen under the sensible displeasure of God, who had caused his rational soul gradually to perish; and left him only an animal life in common with brutes; that it was, therefore, prophane for him to pray, and incongruous to be present at the prayers of others.'

6

In this opinion, however absurd, he was inflexible, at a time when all the powers of his mind subsisted in their full vigour, when his conceptions were clear, and his reasoning strong.

Being once importuned to say grace at the table of a friend, he excused himself many times; but the request being still repeated, and the company kept standing, he discovered evident tokens of distress, and after some irresolute gestures and hesitation, expressed with great fervour this ejaculation: Most merciful and Almighty God, let thy spirit, which moved upon the face of the waters when there was no light, descend upon me; that from this darkness there may rise up a man to praise thee!'

But the most astonishing proof both of his intellectual excellence and defect, is, A defence of the Religion of Nature and the Christian Revelation, in answer to Tindal's Christianity as old as the Creation,' and his dedicațion of it to the late queen. The book is universally allowed to be the best which that controversy produced, and the dedication is as follows: Madam,

Of all the extraordinary things that have been tendered to your royal hands since your first happy

arrival in Britain, it may be boldly said, what now bespeaks your majesty's acceptance is the chief.

Not in itself indeed; it is a trifle unworthy your exalted rank, and what will hardly prove an entertaining amusement to one of your majesty's deep penetration, exact judgment, and fine taste.

• But on account of the author, who is the first being of the kind, and yet without a name.

He was once a man; and of some little name; but of no worth, as his present unparalleled case makes but too manifest; for by the immediate hand of an avenging God, his very thinking substance has for more than seven years been continually wasting away, till it is wholly perished out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing. None, no not the least remembrance of its very ruins, remains, not the shadow of an idea is left, nor any sense that, so much as one single one, perfect or imperfect, whole or diminished, ever did appear to a mind within him, or was perceived by it

Such a present from such a thing, however worthless in itself, may not be wholly unacceptable...... to your majesty, the author being such as history cannot parallel and if the fact, which is real and no fiction, nor wrong deceit, obtains credit, it must be recorded as the most memorable and indeed astonishing event in the reign of George the second, that a tract composed by such a thing was presented to the illustrious Caroline; his royal consort needs not be added; fame, if I am not misinformed, will tell that with pleasure to all succeeding times.

He has been informed, that your majesty's piety is as genuine and eminent, as your excellent qualities are great and conspicuous. This can, indeed, be truly known to the great searcher of hearts only; He alone, who can look into them, can discern if they are sincere, and the main intention corresponds with