wisdom, or by pre-eminence in the arts, have not less secured the applause and admiration of succeeding ages, than those who extended its territory by their valour or purchased its glory with their blood. It is to this brightest æra of antient Greece, that the AngloAthenian Letters principally relate. Professing to consist of the correspondence of an individual with a number of others, and to relate only to events and characters which fell within their own immediate observation, they cannot be supposed to give a general view of Grecian history. They are necessarily confined to a detached portion of the story of that celebrated' people but that portion has been so judiciously chosen, as to convey not only a knowlege of the most important facts which the history of Greece relates, but to display the character and manners of its inhabitants, the nature of its laws, and the object and management of its principal institutions, such as they were at a time when those manners, laws, and institutions, were most worthy of being attentively studied. It is not respecting Greece alone, however, that this ingenious work imparts knowlege to the English reader :-Egypt, Persia, and Asia in general, as they existed at the moment when Grecian glory was in its zenith, are held up to his view in such a masterly way, as to enable him to catch at once the interesting outline; and to contrast the religion, philosophy, and polity of those earlier seats of science and of wisdom, with the religion, philosophy, and polity, of this their more late but also favoured residence. Topics such as these would, in any form of composition, be likely to fix the attention of a reader: but, embellished as they are here with all the graces and charms which the epistolary form of writing is so well calculated to communicate, they' catch a still firmer hold of the imagination and the memory; and thus, by the importance of the subject, combined with the manner of recital, facts and circumstances are almost indelibly impressed. With the mere view of imparting historical information, then, the work would be highly valuable --but it has also other, and in our opinion still higher merit:-it teaches to reason and to think: it is not confined to dry details of facts, but combines facts with circumstances, traces events to causes, and, in relating a political measure or a legislativel act, communicates to the reader the manner in which an informed and sagacious mind seeks for the motives which produced that measure or act, and looks forwards to the probable consequences with which it will be followed. Literary and moral disquisition, too, is here agreeably mixed with historical details; and the mind, after a fatiguing examination of the constitution REV. Nov. 1799. of of a government, or the comparison of two different constita tions, is sometimes delighted with a transition to the beauties of sculpture or painting, or to a dissertation on manners or on language:- or it is introduced to the company of Aspasia, Pericles, or Socrates, and is taught to relish the chaste enjoyments of attic wit. While we but re-echo the public voice in giving such a character of the plan and general execution of the Athenian Letters, we must venture to observe that the reader meets, even in this elegantly written performance, some instances of loose and faulty expression. For some errors of this kind, perhaps, an apology may be found in the less improved state of English prose-composition, when the letters were written (1739):-for others, it is feared, no such excuse can be offered; and then the charge of particular and venial defects can be balanced only by the admitted general excellence. Of such instances, the following may serve for example:- Say, why is Arimanius permitted to disturb and invert the order of Óromasdes' works? Whether from his influence, that the mind of man is so easily perverted, and refuses to be under the guidance of those principles which alone could direct it right? As the latter sentence stands here, it is scarcely intelligible. By a little attention to the structure of it, the error might have been avoided, and it might have run- Whether it be from his influence that, &c. &c. but even in this case, the composition would have been clumsy, if not ungrammatical, unless the sentence which stands next were incorporated with this by the conjunction 'or,' and assigned some other cause than the influence of Arimanius for the perversion of the mind of man. At present, though the sentence begins with whether, as if two causes opposite or different were about to be considered as producing man's perversion, yet the influence of Arimanius alone is mentioned in either this or the following sentence.-In the course of the volumes, we find several such instances as this. Sometimes, too, words are used improperly: as when I was permitted to lay at your feet,' &c. for lie,' &c.-sometimes the sense is involved in ambiguity, and sometimes deformed by incongruous metaphors;-as when with you I wandered in those blissful paths which heavenly contemplation seems beyond all others to have chosen for her abodes."* These defects, however, are rare and trivial. We hasten, therefore, to indulge our readers with a specimen of the manner in which historical fact and delineation of character are here enlivened by the beauties of epistolary composition.. * The reader will find all these errors in the 20th Letter of vol. i. page 66 sequent. CLEANDER CLEANDER to SMERDIS. I have of late been engaged in some conversations with the sages of this place, which have more than once brought to my mind those delightful solitudes, where thou, abstracted from every other care and avocation, enjoyest as it were the presence of the great OROMASDES, and illuminations, which, though no less important than those vouchsafed to the favoured ZOROASTER, thou in divine conference hast communicated to me. Not many furlongs from the city, in the midst of a spacious meadow, which is almost surrounded with the clear and smooth stream of the river Ilissus, there is a stadium not so remarkable for its ornaments and grandeur, as its antiquity and situation; it was built in the early ages of this republic, and still retains its primitive rudeness and simplicity. A grove of trees coeval at least to the structure, whose trunks appear like huge pillars to support a thick and verdurous roof, are planted on one side; and through them the cool breezes, which arise from the river, and are perfumed by numberless flowers that adorn its banks, give a freshness amidst the scorching heats, which we now feel, and form a retreat the most agreeable that can be imagined. It is for this, that the philosophers of Athens with their disciples frequently exchange the Academy and Lyceum; and as I have more than once been admitted to the conferences that are held here, thou wilt not, I fancy, be displeased to partake in them also. It is true, I have sometimes been but indifferently entertained. Some of the first and highest reputation among these philosophers have little true and solid knowledge even of those sciences they profess. Many, who set up for masters of natural truths, are either greatly ignorant of, or entirely mistake the first principles on which they are built. Others there are, who are called teachers of eloquence, but are not able to give any proof of their being so; others, who dispense out lessons of wisdom, not from anv stock of their own, but founded on the authority and maxims of their ances tors. But what above all moves my indignation is, that, without any experience of the world, any insight into policy, they all take upon them to instruct their scholars in the arts of government, in the conduct of publick affairs, and the enacting of fit and necessary laws. It is true, that these pretenders to science but too frequently meet here one, who, as he is much superior to them in all parts of learning, seems animated with a particular zeal to destroy their ill-grounded pretences to it. It is not unusual to see them put to a precipitate and shameful retreat by this great champion of truth; and indeed it is impossible to conceive the deep wisdom and true reasoning, that are concealed under the plainness and simplicity of the rude mechanick*. As he has a peculiar art of illustrating what he treats on, so he has also of exposing what may be on insufficient grounds admired by others. By abundance of apt comparisons, and by a most extensive induction of known and familiar topics, he at once opens and convinces the minds of his hearers. Nor need I after this description tell thee, that I speak of SOCRATES, in whom, if there is any thing that I blame, it is his too great reserve, and his rather labouring to make those with whom he converses unlearn what is wrong, than to in. • SOCRATES was bred a sculptor.' Z 2 struct struct them in what is right. In one of our conversations one day, after he had put to flight a whole army of the sophists, and only one or two friends were left, I was led to express my surprize and concern, that he, who was so capable, and seemed so ready, to teach men true knowledge, should yet be so backward in this godlike employment. I even said, "that it seemed ungenerous, and inconsistent with his usual benevolence, to be so severe, as I had sometimes known him, on those, whose greatest fault was perhaps only to be too ready to teach, while he, who was capable of doing it, would not enter upon this province." He received my reproof with his usual humanity, and after some pause, said; "Were I really, my friend, what you would kindly suppose me, capable of instructing mankind, yet sure I am, that you and all wise men would judge the worse of me if I should venture to proclaim it. It has hitherto been the chief business of my life, to confute and shew the folly of these vain sciolists: and should I not expose myself to the contempt of those, who are so contemptible, if I should engage in their task, and take upon me to dictate on points, which I am sensible are not only out of my reach, but even beyond that of human capacity? It is true, that I have endeatoured, as far as I am able, to cultivate and improve my faculties. I own I have used my utmost industry in acquiring knowledge; and as truth and science have hitherto been, so I am persuaded they ever will be, the scope and object of my life to come. But alas! so far am I from having arrived at what I aim at, that I am daily convinced I never shall. I am satisfied, that I know nothing perfectly; the experience of each day convinces me of the folly of the conclusions I made the foregoing; and upon the maturest consideration I am brought to conclude, that the probable is all we can ever arrive at in our researches. What can I do better therefore, or how can I be more usefully employed, than in endeavouring to take men off from those idle and fruitless pursuits after certainty, which I am convinced they never will find? Nor does this hinder me from tracing out, and even depending upon some great and fundamental points. And if thou wouldst know what it is that appears to me the most probable, I answer, seest thou the great frame of the universe, and hast thou considered the various and wonderful instances of wisdom and contrivance that are displayed in every part of it; and canst thou doubt of its being the work of some all-wise and all-powerful cause? Can so much use and beauty, so much magnificence and design, so much reularity and order, strike us on the contemplation of nature, and we not own the Author of nature? Can so many beings exist, and there be no cause of their existence? No, it is impossible not to trace and acknowledge plain and evident marks of a Deity, who formed and directs this wondrous machine. It must be that we are all under his government, that we are produced for some great purposes; and when we discover, that not the most minute and insignificant atom, which we see, but has its uses, and serves its peculiar ends, we must conclude, that man, the noblest work of the creation, must also have his. Hence then am I led to inquire and consider, what are and what ought to be the great duties of my life. I try the extent of my own and others' capacity. I endeavour to fathom their under standings. standings. I examine into the end of our actions, how they may af fect themselves or others. I find a light as it were and guide placed. in my breast, which, if diligently attended to, directs me in all important occurrences. I am satisfied, that man is not born for himself only, but for the service of others, and that there is a law, which directs all to the practice of what is just, and good, and true, planted in every man's breast; that human laws only inforce this, and bind it upon bad men; that the good are not influenced by them, and he that attends has no need of any other obligation than what arises from hence. Nay further, when I consider the nature and formation of man, and that all we learn seems to be little more than recollecting what we have been apprized of, I conclude, that we have existed in some other state. And if we have lived before, still it is more likely. (considering the passionate desire we have after knowledge, and how impossible it is to satisfy it in this state) that we are designed for, and shall exist in, another. But I refrain from indulging in this, which to thee may appear a visionary and idle speculation, however probable and rational it may seem to me." Here he ended, and I would gladly have engaged him in a more particular discussion of what he had advanced. He, on the contrary, desired my sentiments, which, not only out of modesty, but prudence, thou wilt imagine I declined giving; and so our conversation broke up. I went away convinced, that the notices of the great OROMASDES are wonderfully displayed throughout the whole universe, and that the sublimest truths are easily discoverable, when men make a proper use of that most valuable emanation from him, Reason.' 'R.' The reader will be pleased to learn to whom he owes the entertainment and instruction which these volumes afford him. The names of the writers are prefixed to the work, with the signatures that distinguif their respective letters, and are as follow: P. Hon. Mr. Yorke, late Earl of Hardwicke. C. Hon. Charles Yorke. R. Rev. Dr. Rooke, Master of Christ College, Cambridge. W. Daniel Wray, Esq. H. Rev. Mr. Heaton, of Bennet College. E. Dr. Heberden, O. Henry Coventry, Esq. Author of the Letters of Philemon to Hydaspes. L. Rev. Mr. Lawry, Prebendary of Rochester. T. Mrs. Catherine Talbot. B. Rev. Dr. Birch. S. Rev. Dr. Salter, late Master of the Charter-house. The engravings consist of portraits of Philip Earl of Hardwicke, and the Hon. Charles Yorke, as frontispieces; and busts of Alcibiades, Pericles, Herodotus, Thucydides, Socrates, Aristophanes, Democritus, Aspasia, Hippocrates, Nicias, Euripides, &c. which are finely executed. sh Wall..e. |