kind, that had humour. It is very surprising that the two perfons, who are the most reproachable for having dared to turn the Chriftian religion into ridicule, fhould, both of them, have been priefts, having charge of fouls. Rabelais was curate of Meudon, and Swift was dean of the cathedral of Dublin: both of them broke more jefts on Chriftianity, than what Moliere was for lavish of on phyfic, and both of them lived and died in peace, while fo many others were perfecuted, even to death, for fome equivocal words;

But off, where one shall fink, there swims a brother, I And one shall perish by what saves another.

Swift's Tale of the Tub is an imitation of the three rings. The fable of the three rings is a very ancient one; of the time of the Cruzades. It is of an old man, who dying, leaves a ring to each of his three children; these go to logger-heads about which shall have the most beautiful of them; after long debates, they at length discover, that the three rings were all perfectly alike. The good old man is Theifm, the three children are, the Jewish religion, the Chriftian, and the Mahometan.

The author forgot the religions of the Magi, and of the Bramins, not to mention many others; but he was an Arabian, who knew no more than these three fects. This fable leads to that indifference which was fo much reproached to the emperor Frederic the second, and to his chancellor, De Vineis, who were accused of having jointly compofed the book De Tribus Impofteribus, which, as you well know, never exifted.

The tale of the three rings is to be found in fome collections. Dean Swift has fubftituted to them three coats. The introduction to this impious raillery is worthy of the work; it is a print, in which are reprefented three ways of speaking in public; the first is the theatre of harlequin and merry-Andrew; the fecond is a preacher, whofe pulpit is the half of a tub; the third is a ladder, from the top of which a man who is going to be hanged, harangues the people.

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A preacher between a merry. Andrew and a man at the gal lows, makes no very good figure. The body of the book is an allegorical history of the three principal fects which divide the greatest part of fouthern Europe, the Romish, the Lutheran, and the Calvinift; for he says nothing of the Greek church, which poffeffes fix times the territory of the three others; and leaves quite out of the queftion Mahometanifm, which is ftill more extended than the Greek church.

The three brothers to whom the good old man, their father, has bequeathed three plain coats, and all of the fame

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colour,

colour, are Peter, Martin, and John, that is to say, the pope, Luther, and Calvin. The author makes the three heroes commit more follies than Cervantes afcribes to his Don Quixote, and Ariofto to his Orlando Furiofo; but lord Peter is the worst ufed by him of the three brothers. This book is wretchedly tranflated into French; it was not indeed well poffible to do juftice to the humour with which it is feafoned. This humour turns chiefly on the quarrels between the eftablished church of England, and the Prefbyterian, on suftoms, on incidents unknown in France, and often on a certain play upon words particular to the English language. For example, the word which fignifies in French the pope's bull, fignifies in English both that and the animal called a bull. Such words are a fource of of am biguities, and pleafantry, entirely loft upon a French reader.

and

Swift was much lefs learned than Rabelais, but his his wit is more pointed, more delicate; he is the Rabelais of high life. The lords Oxford and Bolingbroke procured the beft benefice in Ireland, next to the archbishoprick of Dublin, for a man who had fouled the Chriftian religion all over with ridicule; Abadie, who had written in favour of that very religion, a book which had met with the highest encomiums, could get only a paltry little benefice in a country village. But it is to be obferved, that they both died in a ftate of infanity."

Abbadie's preferment was not contemptible: he enjoyed, for many years, the deanry of Killaloe in Ireland. The ftile, manner, and fentiments of this piece, concur to prove, that it is the production of M. Voltaire.

THE

gnisd

X. The Modern Wife. A Novel. In 2 Vols. 12mo. Pr. 65. Lowndes. HE author of this novel fhews himself better acquainted with life than with nature; but neither the tendency, language, nor fentiments of his publication, trite and infipid as his plan is, deferve reprehenfion.

Sir George Warwick takes a liking to a Mifs Jenny Westbury, a young lady without fortune, who lives with her mother, has an elder fifter, and a brother in the army. Warwick conceals his title and circumftances, pays his vifits in the character of a young gentleman of very moderate fortune, and after winning and marrying his miftrefs, furprifes her, her mother and family, with a moft magnificent equipage, which appears at their door, and in which he conveys his bride to his charming family feat. Sir George behaves all of a piece: he fhowers his generofity upon his fifter and brother-in-law, for whom he gets preferment, and, by his means, his fifter-in-law is comfortably

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comfortably fettled in marriage with a fober Mr. Mainwaring, and 6

Lady Warwick's characteristic is a flow of fpirits which is vulgarly denoted fprightlinefs; and the has abundance of wit, Her husband wheels her up to London, where pleasure and diffipation take hold of her heart, and we fhall give the following letter from Lady Lady Warwick to her fifter as a specimen of the spirit with which the author has fupported his heroine's character, as well as of his abilities in novel-writing.

Only that you are fo grave, fifter-well, if you are, that's no abfolute reafon I fhould be fo (pity, you will perhaps cry, but you were)-well, no matter, you are a good creature, too good a creature indeed to have made any figure in this dear de lightful world of enchantment,, London! What a mercy it was my honeft man chofe me inftead of my fedate fifter and what a wonder too, confidering that he is one of your grave fentimental fouls too?-Why, child, they would have flirted and whisked you out of your fober fenfes-in lefs than a fortnight, you would have been hurried to death-Lord! what would have become of you!-no leifure for your clock work-two hours reading, two hours praying, two hours walking, two hours talking, two hours filence, two hours working!—But for nie, who never fettled to any thing for two moments tovery life of life-did I ever live

gether fince I was born, 'tis the

till now ?

Dear Fanny, you can have no conception how agreeably I am whisked about from one pleasure to another, without being allowed time to enjoy any of them-I rife fo late that I have scarce time to put on my cloaths, far lefs to contemplate my finery-then to auctions, vifits, the park, and the Lord knows what-then for drefs again-hardly time for it before dinner-hardly time to dine, for half a hundred vifits to payhardly time to fit down at any one of thofe vifits, for the play hardly time to fee the play, for my engagements at routs, drums, &c. &c.abfolutely no time for converfation, for cards-fit up fo late, that I have hardly time for fleep-and above all things, to be quite in fashion, no time to love, nay even fo much as as to t think kof, my hufband- -thinking indeed is in every refpect intirely out of the queftion-now what on earth can equal the joy, the tranfport, of a life like this?

my

S

You ftare-you apply to your good man-" Is it poffible fifter fhould be ferious "

Let me fave him the trouble of an anfwer" No, I do not think poffible y your fifter fhould be ferious-fhe never is, you know,"

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But,

"But, my dear," you cry," is it not equally impoffibie you should be charmed with the impertinent trifling life you

defcribe ?"

"Lord! my dear, I never once thought of afking him the question-you entirely mistake the point-there was never fuch a thing heard of in the beau monde as a wife's confulting her hufband's tafte in any one living thing he does-that piece of old-fashion'd fubmiffion and humility is referved for meer rufticks. You, fifter, may perhaps, putting your pretty hands before you, and making one of your best curtfies, now and then ask your turtle-like help-mate-interpreting that word li terally, as if they were to help us with their judgments, crediting the faying, That two heads are better than one"What would you advise me to, my dear?" and fo forthbut a fine lady, on the contrary, has no governor, no guide, but her own defpotic free will and pleasure.

"Then Heaven," I think I hear you exclaim, "defend my Jenny from that undefireable title: fhe, I hope, will ever be governed by the generous motives of gratitude and affection."

You fee I have all your pretty refined fentiments at my fingers ends-perhaps you fay," Far rather would I that you had them in your heart!"-But, my dear fifter, are you not an unreasonable creature, to wish that heart ftuffed with fentiments which would render me fo ridiculous in the fashionable world, where I have a laudable ambition to fhine? They may do very well for you country dames; but here, my ftars! what a figure fhould I make?-Gratitude, forfooth!-why do you know that that word is fo obfolete and out of date here, that not one of a thousand so much as understands the meaning of it, fo far are they from the practice of that antiquated virtue.And prithee, my sweet grave fifter, what are my violent obligations Married without a fortune!-and what then?-does not my glass, do not all the pretty fellows in town, fwear I am more than a fortune in myfelf-that I am an angel, a goddefs, and the lord knows what?

None of your grave admonitions, fifter-no fhaking your head, brother-there only wanted my being feen (and to be feen with me, let me tell you, is to be admired) to my having been a dutchess; whereas I am now (alas! more the pity!) no more than fimply a Baronet's lady-don't think I mean a fimple baronet-no, no, the man has fense enough, and, entre nous, perhaps the only filly thing he ever did in his life was m making

me

me his wife-Heyday! how came this humble confeffion to drop from my pen?-Shall I blot it out ?—No, let it stay, that you may fee I have ftill fome grace left, tho' commenced the fine lady.

While in this ftrain, let me own, that even I think myself too giddy, too thoughtless a creature, for one of his fentimental, grave, domeftic turn-but did I not forewarn the man ́, of all this?—did I not tell him what he had to expect?-but love is not only blind, but deaf, I fuppofe-for one would think, by his conduct, he had never heard one fyllable of the matter. No, he fhould have taken unto himself a fober helpmate like fifter; you, while I should have been matched to a

gay lively toad, like Lord W- -, who has entered into an agreement with his wife, that, if she will promife not to interfere in his conduct, fhe fhall be freely left to her own difcretion-nay, I believe, even diferetion was left quite out of the bargain. My good man, on the contrary, already begins to remonftrate mildly indeed-" My dear, this racketing life will certainly, if too inceffantly purfued, prejudice your health. Your charming bloom already begins to fade. If you have no regard for your beauty, be affured I have."

"Oh! Sir, I defy you to outdo me in that but alas !” fmiling, beauty will not last long, take what pains we will; and while I enjoy that bleffing, I am willing to take the benefit of it."

And do you not reckon it a pleafing enjoyment of it, to gladden your adoring husband's eyes with the view of it ?"

"Yes," laughing-" and I am fo generous, that I would not only gladden the eyes of a husband with it, but his friends too."

"You are in that way fufficiently generous, it must be owned," gravely; "they have, I think, rather more of that enjoyment than me.

"There is policy in that, Sir George. I would not make it too cheap in your eyes-I defire only to excite a tranfient admiration in them-but you know, I must endeavour to charm for life." Was not that prettily faid ?-Ah! at prefent, I am an intolerably unfafhionable good wife.

Don't fhew this letter to our worthy mother, notwithstanding it fo clearly demonftrates that goodness.

I write to her by the fame poft, a little lefs in the modifh ftrain-but it would be very hard if I might not shew my improvements to fome of my friends-nay, it would not be doing them juftice, not to give them that fatisfaction.

"If If your good man, as I fhrewdly fufpect, fhould have no relifh for thefe improvements, you, fifter, will at least reap

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one