"No, sir,” replied the poet; "joy of the luckiest thought in the world! I've written a farce called the Fleet Prison. Scene the First, Fleet Market. Pray remember the poor debtors-all the prisoners in the dumps in the first act, and every man John of them liberated in the second! How d'ye think I've brought that about." "By opening the great gate, I suppose," answered Camomile. "No, you old Quiz," replied Addle; "by paying all their debts." "And pray whom do you gift with a liberality and ability so extensive," enquired the doctor. "Whom, sir thundered the poet, "why a British sailor to be sure. It's all the vogue! Enter Ben Block-a sure card, all pitch and patriotism-tar and true blue. 'Here heave a-head you land lubbers -yo ho! tip us your starboard daddle. You mister warden give us a list of all the poor unfortunate debtors, and what they are in limbo for. Haven't I got the prize money (shewing a bag and shaking it) and did'nt I fight by the side of that noble fellow (naming the last admiral who gained a victory). Hold my lads, I'll give you a toast. May the brave sons of Neptune never exchange the long tail of loyalty for the red cap of riot? That's your sort-if your scene lies ever so much inland, always lug in a sailor. I'll speak myself to Bannister, about the sailor he's the man for the part-that hitch of his trowsers is irresistible!" "Why, friend," exclaimed Doctor Camomile in amazement, you must be mad to talk to me in this strain. What have men of my profession to do with the things you have mentioned?"

66

66

Addle being by this time more composed, the doctor proceeded to examine his patient's pulse, and told him that he was of a feverish temperament, proceeding from too ardent a love of let、ters. "My love of letters," cried Addle, "is only to be equalled by the love of a grocer for figs-but what do you prescribe my old boy." "I should advise," replied the physician, in terms of measured gravity, a gentle ride on horseback, every morning in Hyde Park-a generous diet, with a pint of Madeira per diem —and in the autumn a month's sea-bathing at Brighton." "Your prescription," cried Addle, "likes me well, but pray who's to pay the piper? I ride no horse but Pegasus, and luckily he moves on wings, for a jolt in Rotten Row, might engender an unseasonable appetite. Your generous diet with me depends upon a generous public, and the waters of Helicon lose their virtues

when mingled with Madeira. As to your Brighton scheme, I have in my own opinion been going to brighten every season for these seven years past, and yet the critics will have it that I am as dull as ever-" Why doctor, you must be mad to talk to me in this strain. What have men of my profession to do with the things you have mentioned?"

J.

MILTON, VOLTAIRE, AND JOHNSON,

OR,

CRITICISM.

MR. EDITOR,

THE HE imperfect ken of human abilities is seldom more forcibly displayed, than in the literary injustice of which learned foreigners are not unfrequently guilty, towards the productions of a rival nation. If the reader be of a meditative bias, and inclined, in the philanthropy of criticism, to retain the favourable sentiments that the real merit of an author may have impressed, he will re gret the occurrence of such injurious error, whose influence can sometimes prove as effectual, to “wrap him in a humorous sadas the sway of any internal emotion, on the concord of social feelings. Impartial criticism proposes the attainment of truth; but passion is gradually embodied with judgment, in the ardour of pursuit; and occasionally acts as a treacherous ally, in lieu of exciting its cooler companion to approximate more speedily their mutual object.

ness, "*

By those who read Voltaire's critique on Milton's Paradise Lost, (Sur la Poés. Epique, c. 9)-it will be promptly allowed that he has advanced several ingenious strictures; but his re mark on Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio, that our countryman was "très mauvais écrivain en prose," is truly singular. It is in the first place an admitted fact that his English style is excellent, and on his English writings Voltaire is commenting; but, conceding the opposite assertion, by what canon is the style of a La tin treatise brought forward to affect the character of an English

*As you like it.

author in general? To which it may be added, that the correctness of this great poet's classical knowledge is indisputable. I think it apparent that the French critic imagined the work to be written in English, but with a Latin title; -a mistake, into the converse of which Dr. Johnson was betrayed,* when he supposed Phillips's Theatrum Poetarum, an English work, to have been originally composed in the Latin language.

THERE are evils in society, the cure of which, is rather to be wished than expected. The custom of duelling, which has of late become more generally prevalent than ever, seems to be one of them. Scarce a week passes, but we hear of these outrages in defiance of divine and human laws; and this generally upon trifing occasions. Its calamitous consequences are too apparent to be denied, and its criminality and absurdity have been repeatedly proved by arguments which could never be confuted; notwithstanding which it is still practised, and defended as a custom highly beneficial to society. A singular instance of the latter, I lately met with in a discourse on duelling, in the Old Series of the Monthly Mirror, Vol. XXII. P. 288, and it is here my design to make a few observations and remarks upon it. The writer contends with confidence, without any argument to support his assertion, that the custom of duelling raises and refines every individual faculty of man; that is, he contends with confidence that the custom of duelling raises and refines the imagination, the will, reason, memory, and the rest of the human faculties; and I contend with confidence that it doth not: because the assertion is plainly contradicted by common sense and experience; and to say that these faculties, and especially the faculty of memory, is raised and refined by duelling, appears to me as silly and ridicu

*Life of Milton.

lous as it is false; and no better than refined nonsense.-He goes on, and tells us that it renders man independent, and that independence leads to virtue, and that it promotes the interests of morality,Whatever it may render man, I am sure it never can be any thing that will lead him to virtue: for a duellist or man of honour, as such, is not obliged to practise a single virtue. To constitute a man of honour, it is not necessary to do good actions, it is enough, says an ingenious author, if he dares defend ill ones. In short, duelling is so far from promoting the interests of morality, or by any means leading to virtue, that it hardens and encourages men in vice: for the duellist, or man of honour may cheat and lie, may curse and swear, be a bad husband, and a bad fa ther, he may seduce the wives and daughters of his best friends; and in all this be justified by the laws of duelling, because he dares fight the man who shall presume to remonstrate or complain. He contends that the laws fail with regard to justice, in awarding only a pecuniary punishment to some injuries, such as seduction, &c. and that a punishment so impotent, emboldens men to commit every species of crime, in the hope of an expiation, which they regard only as a trifling tax on their pleasures. To this I answer that if it should be admitted that the laws fail with regard to justice, as stated by this writer, the practice of duelling is so far from rectifying this defect, that the remedy is worse than the disease: for the punishment of these injuries is always uncertain in a duel, as the criminal may escape unpu nished, and the injured party be killed; in which case instead of justice being done, a murder is committed; and though it is possible a few may accidentally be justly punished in duels, for these atrocious injuries, this will not compensate for the unjust punishment of many for trifling ones; for the laws of duelling extend the punishment of death to the most trifling injuries, and duels almost always originate in trifling disputes and differences between the parties, or at most some provocation by no means deserving death: and if in such duels the offender is killed, he is unjustly punished for the offence. The laws of duelling resemble those of Draco, which punished indiscriminately the least, as well as the greatest crimes with death, and on that account were said to be written in blood, so that the stealing a potatoe was a capital offence, and punished with death equally the same as murder. In like manner by the laws of duelling, a man is to X-VOL. IV.*

be punished with death, for inadvertently treading upon the toes of a man of honour, or any other insignificant offence; the same as if he had seduced his wife or daughter. As to a pecuniary punishment for seduction, emboldening men 10 commit every species of crime, the assertion is truly absurd; for how does it follow that a pecuniary punishment for one species of crime, should embolden men to commit every species of crime, many of which they know to be punishable with death? As to the judicial mode of awarding pecuniary damages to the injured party, it is not so trifling a matter to the culprit as this writer would insinuate. In a late trial for crim. con. the jury gave the plaintiff £.20,000 damages, which probably the de fendant does not think a very trifling tax on his pleasures.He says that a pecuniary punishment will not restore reputation, or confer a proportionate benefit upon the injured. Neither will the honourable act of blowing out the offender's brains in a duel, unless the gratifying a revengeful, sanguinary temper, can be considered as such.—He says the man who refuses to fight a duel, is viewed as an object of all conceivable depravity and a degradation to his species. To this I answer, that where a man vio- ¦ lates every other duty, or lives in the habitual practice of any known crime, and refuses to fight a duel, under the pretence of conscience, availing himself of this one duty, as a shield for his cowardice, it will be readily granted that such a man is an object of contempt; but the truly good and wise will commend the man who refuses to fight a duel, where such refusal results from principle; which may easily be known from the tenor of his life: for then it will be evident that such a man's motive for not fighting a duel, is the same motive which determines him not to commit any other act of vice or folly; and none but the slaves of "tyrant fashion" will consider him as an object of contempt. W. D.

CLASSICAL QUIBBLES,

MR. EDITOR,

I AM not one of those who in conversation smother common sense under a pillow-case of old puns-No, sir, I scorn to walk in such a broken tract to the temple of fame. But I must own that having at the Westminster plays, frequently observed the fat sides and double chins of reverend divines, shake with convul