it into a number of pieces, either through carelessness, or through their eagerness in hopes of finding a treasure concealed in it. They declared, however, that nothing was found in it but ashes, some fragments of another urn, and some small stones, that shewed marks of having passed through the fire. The diameter of the top was 16 inches, and it might contain about three gallons. The upper part was ornamented in the same manner as some of those of which Dr. Borlase has given a representation ia his Antiquities of Cornwall. IT Φιλαρχαίος, ILLUSTRATIONS OF HORACE. To his book. T is the ambiguous privilege of intelligent persons to have a clear er insight into human affairs than others, and yet seldom to act more discreetly in real life than the others judge. Certain it is, that if the one and the other act alike, it is not therefore the same thing: but if the man of understanding and the fool commit the same piece of folly, the former has evidently the worst of it. For what avails it him in the long run, that he has just so much wisdom as, in the follies he commits, to reason away precisely the interest, namely, the illusion; that balmy, delicious conceit, of having performed sheer laudable, excellent, and meritorious exploits, which fills the imaginations of the tribe who walk in a vain shadow with the most blissful self-complacency, like the madman who regards his tattered shirt as a royal mantle! In this point of view, it cannot be denied, the fools have infinitely the advantage over the wise. That we may here confine the application solely to the author: how greatly in this respect has the middling and wretched writer the whiphand of the good one! The former not only feeds his imagination with the illusory consciousness of his conceited excellence; he even enjoys, in full measure, the gratitude and applause of the world, which he believes he has richly merited. Every public encomium which he obtains by stealth, purchase, or petition, every compliment that is paid him either by per civil friends, or humble clients, or by still more wretched scribblers than himself, is, in his eyes, a full and sufficient voucher for his well-earnt fame, and a sure pledge of literary immortality. The good Author, after he has done even all that it laid upon him to do, reckons himself still but an unprofitable servant, perceives himself still far short of the perfection he had set before him, and therefore never attains to the gratification of having produced something that satisfies himself. This alone would be sufficient to embitter the little transitory enjoyment which the approbation occasionally here and there conveyed to him in a clap, a simper, a nod, a wink, and a gaze, haps even in a grin, by the Balaams who had much rather curse him, may have procured to his vanity. Here is yet to be added, however, that unlucky transparency, in which human objects, like thin, unembodied shadows, flutter before his eyes - the fatal knowledge of what that clapping, smiling, nodding, and grinning properly means! Nothing of it al creates to him the soothing dream. In vain he prays, Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! He knows the world too well for imagining, that what was so interesting to him, as for à length of time to have absorbed his existence, will be now likewise interesting to them; and he is too reasonable to attribute to mankind either constancy in their judgments and affections, or gratitude, for unrequested service. He understands too thoroughly how all is, and wherefore it so is; for presuming in the smallest degree upon an applause which he shares in common with so many of the undeserving ; knowing as he does how empty, confined, and fickle it is; how little of it is the result of real emotion or sagacity; how much is to be ascribed solely to its momentaneous novelty, to casual coincidences, to the influence of those who in one place or another set the fashion, to the vanity of the reader,, and a hundred other causes of the same stamp; and how soon even this, at present, perhaps, ever so enthusiastic applause, may be again withdrawn from him, in favour of the first that makes his appearance on the stage in different attitydes, or cuts capers a couple of of inches higher, and makes a greater stantially how it will fare with her. Baxter has pursued this dilogy, as he calls it. (which had not been passed unobserved by Torrentius before him) step by step; a pleasure which, at this, time, we will rather leave the reader to give himself. Gessner whose head had no turn for this sort of pleasantry, and to whom probably it did not appear so harmless as in reality it is-is almost in a passion at the delight which Baxter takes in it, Tota hæc dilogia mihi non placet, says the honest soul. In the mean time, we must take it as we find it in the original; and the delicate touches with which the whole allegory is shaded, resemble the beautiful drapery with which of yore the Graces instructed a Lysippus to invest the chaste comeliness of Nature, as with a small thin mist. So much the worse for him whose eyes are offended at such a sight! He may run away from it if he chuses: all we have to desire of him is, that he would leave us unbotched the beauties of nature and art! Vertumnus.] An Etruscan deity, which, on the conquest of Etruria, had been adopted by the Romans amongst their deities, in pursuance of their stated political practice, was the patron of those trades which consisted in buying and selling. The booksellers at Rome had, it appears, their shops not far from a temple or a statue of that god, both of which were scen standing in the Tuscan street, vicus Thuscus or Turarius*. At one corner of the same street, people of ill fame (leuones, pueri mereiricii, and such like vagabonds) had their station; to which our Poet, by the words Thusci turbà impia vici, in one of his Satirest, and Plautus in his Curculio, seem to point. This circumstance presents, as Mr. Baxter thinks, the prime feature in the dilogy which ruus through the whole of this piece. The turn which Horace takes in this epilogue, to procure his little vanity this gratification, together with the humour that reigns throughout the performance, renders it in my opinion one of the finest and wittiest morsels that I know, of in all antiquity. The well-known metaphor for denoting the relation of an author to his work, the similitude of parent and child, is there most neatly absorbed in another, indicative of the fate of a book; inasmuch, as by its publication, the darling tract is delivered up as a prey to the humours, passions, and ill-treatment of the publick, and wrought into the most apt and suitable allegory. All the expressions are borrowed from a poor but honest father, lecturing his thoughtless girl, who is weary of retirement and seclusion in the paternal house, and wishes to try her fortune in the world, as one that is better acquainted with the ways of it, than the young inexperienced Acta iv. scen. i. ver. 21. In Tusco thing, and foretelling her circum- vico, ibi sunt homines, qui seipsos venditant. Ut prosies Sosiorum pumice mundus.] The brothers Sosii were at that time eminent booksellers, says the scholiast in Cruquius. Horace makes mention of them once again in the Epistle to the Pisones; and it * Nardini, Roma Vetus, lib. v. cap. 5.Lib. ii. sat. 3. ver. 228. is evident from that passage, that they were his publishers. Aut fugies Uticam, aut vinctus mittéris Ilerdam.] Utica and lerda,, a couple of places, one in Africa, the other in Spain, were hardly known at Rome from any other circumstance, but that Cato died at the former, and that at the latter, Cæsar gained a victory over Pompey's party. It may be, that the day-spring of civilization was then beginning to visit even those barbarous provinces of the Roman Empire; it is apparent, however, from the whole structure of the piece, that our Poet was far from expecting benefit from the mission to Utica and Ilerda, as Gessner, from the hatred he bears to the dilogy, without which we mistake the whole meaning of the Epistle, would fain persuade himself. Quis enim invitum servure laboret?] A no less delicate than ludicrous joke upon his own folly, in publishing his book, notwithstanding he clearly fore saw the fatal destiny that awaited him. “I shall then laugh at it, says he, though indeed on the wrong side of my mouth, like him, who, after endeavouring with all his might to keep his stubborn ass from the edge of a steep precipice, at last in a pas sion drove him headlong down. The ass to be sure broke his neck, and the owner of him enjoyed the momentary gratification of his malice: but no longer than till his fit of rage was over, and he felt to his sorrow that he himself was the greatest loser by what he had done." W. T. Great Ormond Street. THE PROJECTOR. No. LXXXV. Flate years we have been fa voured with some elaborate essays on Taste, the authors of which have endeavoured to establish certain general principles, and thus to intro duce an uniformity of opinion in matters that are cognizable at this tribunal. But whether it be that these attempts have failed from a want of understanding in the readers, or from a wilful neglect of this branch of polite education; or whether it be that uniformity of opinion is denied in all cases to mankind in this tower world; certain it is that our tastes are not yet regulated in such a manner as to produce one general standard. We cannot yet explain what it is that affects us with pleasure or disgust; nor have we been able to fix upon such elementary rules or instructions as may enable the young to acquire taste as readily as any other accomplishment. they There is a class, indeed, and I believe a very numerous one, of persons who, without any very arrogant pretensions to taste, seem to enjoy the pleasure, or express the dislike, with which certain objects affect them, in a very homely way. When asked if they understand musick, poetry, or painting, they honestly confess their deficiency, but add, that know what pleases themselves;" and with this knowledge, be it little or much, they read a Poem, listen to a Concert of Musick, and visit an Exhibition of Pictures. From these they select what they like, and seem very indifferent to the opinions of others. Professed men of taste, however, who set up as arbiters, and as the leaders of public opinion, disclaim all association with those who pretend to "such likes and dislikes," and by some means contrive to form laws for the regulation of their decisions, which must be either subscribed openly or obeyed tacitly. Accordingly, we find in Poetry, Painting, and Musick, certain pieces and performances which we are bound to applaud or condema, under the penalty of being classed among the vulgar, among persons of no Taste, or among those who have not given up the pleasure of thinking for themselves. Now, some call this a fashion, and some a rage; but by whatever name it is called, I have to complain to you, Mr. PROJECTor, that it is a mighty expensive thing for us parents in one respect, which I shall take the liberty to explain. I have a family of two sons and three daughters; and against their fi lial behaviour, or general character, as times go, I have very little to object. My daughters, who were edu cated at a genteel boarding-school, were taught Musick; and when they began, not many questions were asked as to my opinion of the neces sity of this branch of education. Ex cuses for doing what others do gene rally run in a circle. My daughters, I was told, wished to learn Musick; and they wished to learn Musick, because because the other young ladies at the school wished to learn Musick; and the other young ladies at the school wished to learn Musick, because the mistress (I beg pardon, the goveruess) wished them to learn Musick; and the Musick-master wished them "of all things" to learn Musick, because-and here we come round in our circle of causes and effects-because all the young ladies wished to learn Musick. hearing of persons of Taste. There is a fashion in musical compositions which is as short-lived as in articles of dress and finery. I cannot exactly ascertain the time when it is proper that one fashion should give way to another; nor have I any skill in calculating the nativity of a new bonnet or a new song, in order to know how long they have to live, or whether they will die a lingering or a violent death. Still less can I discover any reason why, soon after the Taste which presides in Bond-street has hit Well-the proficiency my daughters made in this charming science did no discredit either to their teach-upon à becoming article, it should ers, or their diligence and capacity. give way to one less so, merely beThey have been repeatedly, and, as cause its time is up." But I proa fond father, I am bound to believe, test to you, Sir, and I appeal to all very disinterestedly praised by the com- the young ladies your readers for pany who visit us, or whom we visit. the truth of my assertion, that a In respect, therefore, of this matter, concerto lasts no longer than a pe1 have every reasonable evidence that lisse; a cantata is no longer bearable my money has not been thrown than a tippet, and that songs, sonaaway; and that, with a calculating tas, and cantabiles, are as short-lived man, is some consolation. Someas poke-bonnets, mantles, and halftimes, it is true, I hint, that being handkerchiefs. To-day arrives a piece very musical is not the way to get of Musick from the opera or the husbands; for I have observed, that theatres, sung by a Catalani or a Bilwhen musical ladies become matri- lington. It must of course be excelmonial, they find other employments lent, because it is new; and accordmore important than the piano, the ingly it is played and sung, and hum, harp, or the guittar. But let this. med over and over again from mornpass. I was not sorry that my girls ing to night; but, alas! a mouth made as good a figure as their school- hence where is it? or who would venfellows; I am myself rather fond of ture to ask for it in a polite conMusick, and seldom hear it with so pany? It is then placed on the sumuch satisfaction as when my daugh- perannuated list; and I might as well ters are the performers, who are, if shock the feelings of a party by reI may so speak, a part of myself. questing a solo of Handel, or expressHere again, therefore, is no ground ing my good-will and prejudices in for complaint, but rather a sort of favour of the Old Hundredth. prelude, or overture, to the main grievance. There seems, Mr. PROJECTOR, to be something in the nature and construction of inodern musical compositions, which, however consistent with the prevailing taste for variety, is at the same time extremely inconsistent with that œconomy which, as a prudent man, I wish to observe in the maintenance of my family. As all luxuries are now become necessaries, economy is as requisite in the one as in the other. But I am sorry to say, that with every attention to this domestic virtue, I find it very difficult to keep up with the vast quantity of new Musick every day published, and which is no sooner new than it becomes old, obsolete, and no longer fit to be played in the Now, Sir, as I have ventured to compare pieces of modern Musick to articles of dress, in respect to their fleeting and perishable nature, I must in justice say that dress, however incessantly changing and changeable, is yet attended with a much less expence, since any one article by a very trifling change may be turned into any other exactly suited to the prescribed fashion of the day. O! Sir, I could tell you many pretty stories about the economy of fashionable folks in the regeneration of caps, bonnets, mantles, pelisses, cloaks, &c. and how they can, with a very little nee, dle and scissars-work, a little clipping and rounding, piecing and patching, stitching and weiting, make things long or short, round or square, with trains or without trains, plain or Van dyke, dyke, braided or curled, hats or bonnets, &c. &c. in a most surprizing manner. But, Sir, our Musick is capable of no such, saving alterations. We cannot draw patterns for cutting down a concerto into a solo; we have no wire-shapes for extending a prssto to an andante, or by a little neat hemming give a waltz the appearance of a symphony. We cannot trim an old ballad into a new canzona, or dye an opera to make it more brilliant. No, Sir, the Musick-sellers have this advantage ever the mantua-makers and milliners, that their customers, be they ever so œconomically disposed, can do nothing for themselves; or by any ingenious contrivances or alterations, supply the places of the spick-span. Hence it comes to pass, Mr. ProJECTOR, that my daughters are every month and every week accumulating a library of obsolete musick, which they dare not place on the stand after a six-weeks' wear, without having some very unpleasant insinuations thrown out at the expence of their taste, which they, I am sorry to add, think the heaviest expence of all. At our house in the country, indeed, they will sometimes venture to play a tune perhaps half-a-year, or even a whole year old, to please our Vicar, who is really a very good man, and is reputed to have a very pretty taste in other matters, although, owing to his distance from London, he falls off miserably in this matter, and has often never heard of a new Air until it has sunk in oblivion. Now, Sir, I need not represent to you, that all this conformity to the ruling taste is attended with a very considerable expence, which I have no means of recovering. Old Musick, every shop-keeper tells me, is a mere drug; and no wonder, when it grows old so soon. I have troubled you, Sir, with this complaint of mine, because, although common enough, it has not, as far as I know, been represented by any of your predecessors. I must leave it to your better judgment to determine, whether you can interpose in behalf of parents who are obliged to keep bands of Musick, or whether you will order my petition to speak for itself among the rest of the remonstrances recorded in your Lucubrations. I am, Sir, Yours, &c. PARENTALIS. P.S. I may briefly notice, that Fashion has extended its perishable influence even to the instruments themselves. I am old enough to remember spinettes and harpsichords; but, alas! where are they to be heard, unless in the shops of the old brokers? My daughters began with a common piano, which cost no more than twenty-five guineas-next year they were obliged to have one with additional keys, price thirty-five; and soon after i submitted to a Grand, which I had a pennyworth at ninety, it being the property of a lady, who, having married, had no farther occa sion for the instrument. For some weeks past, they have been throwing out hints about a Grand upright, with pedal, tambourine, and drum. This has awakened me a little to the main chance; although it is not improbable that they will prevail, as, in order to lessen the expence, they seem willing to give up Brighton. These are hard times, Mr. PROJECTOR, for people that have good ears. I have submitted my Correspondent's letter, agreeably to his desire, but with no very sanguine hopes that a remedy can be provided: perhaps the request of the writer of the following letter may be more easily complied with. To the AUTHOR of the PROJECTOR. IT is generally said, that every country understands its own language best, and that the natives of any country, however illiterate they may be in other respects, have many advantages over a foreigner, in acquiring the true meaning of their language. But, common as this maxim is, I have some doubts whether it be universal, and liable to no objection; and I have some fears that we are fast hastening to render our language as puzzling to ourselves as to foreigners. I might give you a very considerable list of words to prove this, and to prove the extraordinary and wanton liberties we take with the meaning of them; but I shall, for the present, confine myself to two or three, which occur so frequently, that we cannot go to dinner without them. The words I allude to, Sir, are punctually, precisely, and exactly, or, by way of circumlocution, to a mi nute; which expresses the same mean ing; |