and the division to which he belongs is principally, I ought rather to say entirely, composed of conscien tious church-goers, and liberal chapel-goers; but, far from all the two latter are included in it. He is a man who is contented with whatever situation in which he may be placed; drawing a moral lesson from every thing he sees, hears, or experiences. Is he fortunate? he is thankful for it, because it gives him an opportunity for a more extensive exercise of his philanthropy, Is he unfortunate? He is still thankful, for he can find many who are much more so. He does nothing inconsiderately or without first reflecting upon it. What' says he, when he is going to the theatre? Thus he considers the subject. "What am I about to see, a tragedy? From that I should learn that, though guilt triumphs for a time over virtue, yet a just and certain punishment pursues, and will soon overtake it; and though virtue appears humbled to the very dust, yet sooner or later it will receive its reward, and the humiliation it has suffered will only serve to improve and increase the splendour of its exaltation. Shall I witness the representation of a comedy? Then I shall see vice and folly unmasked; their borrowed robes stripped off, and themselves conspicuously held up for our abhorrence and contempt; while on the other hand, innocent simplicity is presented in vivid colours for our admiration and imitation. Shall I see a farce or a pantomime? Can I contemplate any thing more forcibly exemplifying the following passage so frequently quoted? Can I see any thing more expressive of its truth? "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Certainly not: for in them, vanity is (if I may so express it) personified in every scene, &c." With a mind thus attuned and prepared, can the rational Playgoer fail to receive those instructions and improvements, which it is the purpose of the drama to convey? No! he returns home with the solemn truth still more deeply impressed upon it, that rewards and punishments await us all, and that God will distribute them justly. Independent of this important lesson, he will collect much valuable information upon other subjects.

The Critical Play-goer, ought to be a rational one,

with only this difference: the observations which the latter makes upon the piece, and the inferences which he draws from it, for his own private information, the former should lay before the public, with such remarks upon the composition and performance of it, as circumstances and an impartial judgment may suggest. How far this is done, those who are in the habit of reading the various dramatic critiques in the different newspapers will be able duly to appreciate.

I must now conclude by recommending all Play goers, as their power is imperative, and all opposition to their will or judgment is vain, to exercise that power candidly, and that judgment with decision. I would likewise advise the idle to follow the example of the rational Play-goer, and the critical one to do his duty in his department.

March 31st, 1819.

CURSORY EXAMINATION

OF

"AN ESSAY ON LITERATURE."*

To the Editor of the Pocket Magazine.

R. F.

SIR, Every one who has been accustomed to analyze his feelings, must have observed that there is a certain number of maxims which tacitly govern and direct our ideas and our actions-maxims that are to the conduct of an individual what the rules of syntax are to his conversation-fundamental principles which, from long practice, he has acquired a habit of employing, without being aware that he is even making use of them. It may be admitted that these axioms enlarge and alter, as the varied studies, disposition, or profession of every particular person lead him into different spheres of action and association. Indeed, to urge still further the idea, it may be affirmed that thinking has its rules like any other art or science; and that the mind approaches towards perfection in proportion to its sagacity in discovering them, and its skill in putting them in practice.

See Pocket Magazine, p. 216.

One of these rules, indelibly fixed in the mind of every man of science, is, that systems founded on the uncertain basis of speculation are for the most part erroneous; while another, acknowledged alike by the learned and the ignorant, is-that, when a man pretends to extend information to others, he should possess, not only a specious assemblage of words, but also a mind illumined by knowledge, and unsullied by ignorance or by prejudice!

I have been led into this train of ideas by reading, in your last Magazine, an Essay on the Origia and Progress of Literature; an Essay evidently built upon a fanciful theory, unsupported by those facts which the experience of ages has consecrated, and frequently darkened by the unfounded opinions of the vulgar.— The author begins y asserting that knowledge renders man powerful, virtuous, and happy; that it strengthens the weak, points out to the libertine the criminality of his conduct, and successfully combats the powers of disease, want, and captivity,

Before I undertake to examine these articles, it may not be improper to observe, that they evidently emanate from those philosophistical principles which, towards the conclusion of the last century, a certain class of persons endeavoured to set up in opposition to the pure feelings of Christianity.

Between the author and myself there is, therefore, an opposition of sentiment, that might seem to render me an improper person to enquire into the merits of his Essay. I, though far from an enthusiast, believe that religion alone can operate the effects which he refers to knowledge; and I make this remark in order to have an opportunity of observing that, being aware of the difference between us, I shall endeavour, in the course of these lines, to throw aside my own opinions, that I may scrutinize his with the greater impartiality

Had D****** commenced by defining the meaning which he attaches to the word knowledge, we might have understood more fully the leading principle of his essay; but, as he has omitted that necessary beginning to every argumentative discourse, it will not be proper for me to supply the deficiency, and, there

fore, my only resource is to refer to Johnson's Dictionary, which, being universally employed, may be allowed to be consulted on this occasion as the standard of the language. Knowledge is there defined, 1. Certain perception, 2. Learning, illumination of the mind, 3. Skill in any thing, 4. Acquaintance with any fact or person, 5. Cognisance-notice, 6. Information, power of knowing; and Locke defines knowledge to be the power of discriminating between the connexion and agreement, and disagreement and repugnancy, of our ideas.-Now, Sir, how knowledge, according to any of these descriptions, can possess the power ascribed to it by your correspondent I am not able to discover. Because a man possesses sufficient mental ability to distinguish between two ideas, it does not follow that he is powerful, virtuous, or happy; nor can any reason be adduced why oue not pos sessed of such a power should be wicked or miserable. Let us quit for a moment the incertitude of imagination, and place ourselves under the secure guidance of experience. An instant's reflection will convince us how many examples we have seen of men, possessed of capacious and illuminated minds, sunk to the very lowest pitch of vicious degradation; and how often have we observed those whose stock of information was of the most slender nature in the possession of happiness, rather to be envied than despised!—If we consider the theory upon which D****** sets out, we shall find that it destroys itself. It is impossible for all to possess that share of knowledge which he imagines at some time will be diffused among maukind. To command proficiency in one branch of science, requires the life of an individual; for, though: there have been instances to the contrary, yet they are not so striking as is really supposed, and they are so rare as not to be quoted as likely ever to become universal. This granted, it must be evident that all men at no period will acquire universal illumination, and, though some few may carry the sciences still higher than they have hitherto arrived, it is yet problematical whether they will ever be able so to simplify them as to make them more accessible to the ordinary race of mortals.

A strange illiberality of feeling seems to characterize what D****** asserts concerning the learning of the ages of Greek and Roman superiority. He imagines that all the skill and power of the literati were excited to conceal and disguise knowledge from the rest of the world; but he seems to forget that the schools of the philosophers were open to all, and that instruction was either given gratis, or cheaply obtained, may be concluded from the story of the Stoic, who gained his livelihood by drawing water at night, that he might in the day attend to the lessons of his master; from its being handed down to us as a disgrace to Aristippus that he taught philosophy for money; and from the actions of Pythagoras, and others, who were assiduous in propagating knowledge. Another cause which operated against the diffusion of information was the high price of books, and the difficulty which an author found in giving to his work that publicity so easily obtained in our times, by means of advertisements and reviews ---Vide Juvenal.

Ages, says our author, of barbarism and ignorance ensued, and the priesthood, by being in the possession of knowledge, acquired the influence of divinities. Is it not rather whimsical, that a man who asserts that the possession of knowledge is the very end and object of existence, should petulantly find fault with the superiority of those who he believes did possess the little that was then in circulation?

But he is here also mistaken. The clergy, although generally the best informed, were not the only men of science during the middle ages; but, alas! alas! priests and monks are the windmills against which every modern literary Quixote thinks he shall acquire immortal honour by running his spear.

During the dark ages, says a writer, perhaps better informed and less prejudiced than_D******, "the arts took shelter in a monastery. History wrote a legend; painting illuminated a missal; and poetry and music were employed in composing a hymn, or in chanting the service."* The monasteries, instead of being the mysterious prisons of literature, were in reality its last and safest retreats; they were the strong • I quote from memory.