was still improving them by her constant course of piety. Oh dear, sweet, and desirable child! how shall I part with all this goodness and virtue without the bitterness of sorrow and reluctancy of a tender parent? Thy affection, duty, and love to me, was that of a friend as well as a child. Nor less dear to thy mother, whose example and tender care of thee was unparalleled; nor was thy return to her less conspicuous. Oh, how she mourns thy loss! how desolate hast thou left us! to the grave shall we both carry thy memory.

[Fashions in Dress.]

[From Tyrannus, or the Mode.' *]

Let

For my part, I profess that I delight in a cheerful gaiety, affect and cultivate variety. The universe itself were not beautiful to me without it; but as that is in constant and uniform succession in the natural, where men do not disturb it, so would I have it also in the artificial. If the kings of Mexico changed four times a-day, it was but an upper vest, which they were used to honour some meritorious servant with. men change their habits as oft as they please, so the change be for the better. I would have a summer habit and a winter; for the spring and for the autumn. Something I would indulge to youth; something to age and humour. But what have we to do with these foreign butterflies? In God's name, let the change be our own, not borrowed of others; for why should I dance after a Monsieur's flageolet, that have a set of English viols for my concert? We need no French inventions for the stage, or for the back.

SIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE.

'Twas a witty expression of Malvezzi, I vestimenti negli animali sono molto sicuri segni della loro natura; negli huomini del lor cervello,-garments (says he) in animals are infallible signs of their nature; in men, of their understanding. Though I would not judge of the monk by the hood he wears, or celebrate the humour of Julian's court, where the philosophic mantle made all his officers appear like so many conjurors, 'tis worth the observing yet, that the people of Rome left off the toga, an ancient and noble gar- the reigns of Charles II. and James VII., great notoSIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE (1616-1704) enjoyed, in ment, with their power, and that the vicissitude of their habit was little better than a presage of that of riety as an occasional political writer. During the their fortune; for the military suga, differencing rebellion he had fought as a royalist soldier: being them from their slaves, was no small indication of captured by the parliamentary army, he was tried the declining of their courage, which shortly followed. and condemned to die, and lay in prison almost four And I am of opinion that when once we shall see the years, constantly expecting to be led forth to exeVenetian senate quit the gravity of their vests, thecution. He was at length set free, and lived in state itself will not long subsist without some conalmost total obscurity till the Restoration, when he siderable alteration. I am of opinion that the Swiss was rewarded with the invidious post of licenser of had not been now a nation but for keeping to their the press. From this time, till a few years before prodigious breeches. his death, he was constantly occupied in the editing

Be it excusable in the French to alter and impose the mode on others, 'tis no less a weakness and a shame in the rest of the world, who have no dependence on them, to admit them, at least to that degree of levity as to turn into all their shapes without discrimination; so as when the freak takes our Monsieurs to appear like so many farces or Jack Puddings on the stage, all the world should alter shape, and play the pantomimes with them.

Methinks a French tailor, with his ell in his hand, looks the enchantress Circe over the companions of Ulysses, and changes them into as many forms. One while we are made to be so loose in our clothes

*

and by and by appear like so many malefactors sewed up in sacks, as of old they were wont to treat a parricide, with a dog, an ape, and a serpent. Now, we are all twist, and at a distance look like a pair of tongs, and anon stuffed out behind like a Dutchman. This gallant goes so pinched in the waist, as if he were prepared for the question of the fiery plate in Turkey; and that so loose in the middle, as if he would turn insect, or drop in two; now, the short waists and shirts in Pye-court is the mode; then the wide hose, or a man in coats again. * Methinks we should learn to handle distaff too: Hercules did so when he courted Omphale; and those who sacrificed to Ceres put on the petticoat with much confidence. *

*

It was a fine silken thing which I spied walking tother day through Westminster Hall, that had as much ribbon about him as would have plundered six shops, and set up twenty country pedlars. All his body was dressed like a May-pole, or a Tom-aBedlam's cap. A frigate newly rigged kept not half such a clatter in a storm, as this puppet's streamers did when the wind was in his shrouds; the motion was wonderful to behold, and the well-chosen colours were red, orange, blue, and well gummed satin, which argued a happy fancy; but so was our gallant overcharged, [that] whether he did wear this garment, or A rare pamphlet by Evelyn.

Sir Roger L'Estrange.

of newspapers and writing of pamphlets, mostly in behalf of the court, from which he at last reconsidered to have been the first writer who sold his ceived the honour of knighthood. He is generally services in defence of any measure, good or bad. As a controversialist, he was bold, lively, and vigorous, but coarse, impudent, abusive, and by no means a scrupulous regarder of truth. He is known also as a translator, having produced versions of Æsop's Fables, Seneca's Morals, Cicero's Offices, Erasmus's

Colloquies, Quevedo's Visions, and the works of Josephus. Sir Roger was so anxious to accommodate his style to the taste of the common people, that few of his works could now be read with any pleasure. The class whom he addressed were only beginning to be readers, and as yet relished nothing but the meanest ideas, presented in the meanest language. What immediately follows is a chapter of his life of Æsop, prefixed to the translation of the Fables.

Esop's Invention to bring his Mistress back again to her catch 'em, and so went on to consult their oracles the

be gone.

Husband after she had left him.

&c.

lowing of execrations and revenge against the accursed
bloody papists. It was imputed at first, and in the
general, to the principles of the religion; and a Roman
Catholic and a regicide were made one and the same
thing. Nay, it was a saying frequent in some of our
great and holy mouths, that they were confident there
was not so much as one soul of the whole party, within
his majesty's dominions, that was not either an actor
in this plot, or a friend to't. In this heat, they fell to
picking up of priests and Jesuits as fast as they could
witnesses (with all formalities of sifting and examining)
upon the particulars of place, time, manner, persons,
&c.; while Westminster Hall and the Court of Re-
quests were kept warm, and ringing still of new men
come in, corroborating proofs, and further discoveries,
Under this train and method of reasoning, the
managers advanced, decently enough, to the finding
out of what they themselves had laid and concerted
beforehand; and, to give the devil his due, the whole
story was but a farce of so many parts, and the noisy
informations no more than a lesson that they had much
ado to go through with, even with the help of diligent
and careful tutors, and of many and many a prompter,
to bring them off at a dead lift. But popery was so
dreadful a thing, and the danger of the king's life and
of the Protestant religion so astonishing a surprise
that people were almost bound in duty to be inconsi
derate and outrageous upon 't; and loyalty itself
would have looked a little cold and indifferent if it
had not been intemperate; insomuch that zeal, fierce
ress, and jealousy were never more excusable than
upon this occasion. And now, having excellent matter
to work upon, and the passions of the people already
disposed for violence and tumult, there needed no
more than blowing the coal of Oates's narrative, to
put all into a flame: and in the mean time, all arts
and accidents were improved, as well toward the en-
tertainment of the humour, as to the kindling of it.
The people were first haired out of their senses with
tales and jelousies, and then made judges of the
danger, and consequently of the remedy; which upon
the main, and briefly, came to no more than this: The
plot was laid all over the three kingdoms; France,
Spain, and Portugal, taxed their quotas to't; we were
all to be burnt in our beds, and rise with our throats
cut; and no way in the world but exclusion and
union to help us. The fancy of this exclusion spreadi
immediately, like a gangrene, over the whole body of
the monarchy; and no saving the life of his majesty
without cutting off every limb of the prerogative: the
device of union passed insensibly into a league of con-
spiracy; and, instead of uniting protestants against
papists, concluded in an association of subjects
against their sovereign, confounding policy with reli-
gion.

The wife of Xanthus was well born and wealthy, but so proud and domineering withal, as if her fortune and her extraction had entitled her to the breeches. She was horribly bold, meddling and expensive (as that sort of women commonly are), easily put off the hooks, and monstrous hard to be pleased arain; perpetually chattering at her husband, and u on all occasions of controversy threatening him to It came to this at last, that Xanthus's stock of patience being quite spent, he took up a resolution of going another way to work with her, and of trying a course of severity, since there was nothing to be done with her by kindness. But this experiment, instead of mending the matter, made it worse; for, upon harder usage, the woman grew desperate, and went away from him in earnest. She was as bad, 'tis true, as bad might well be, and yet Xanthus had a kind of hankering for her still; beside that, there was matter of interest in the case; and a pestilent tongue she had, that the poor husband dreaded above all things under the sun. But the man was willing, however, to make the best of a bad game, and so his wits and his friends were set at work, in the fairest manner that might be, to get her home again. But there was no good to be done in it, it seems; and Xanthus was so visibly out of humour upon it, that Æsop in pure pity bethought himself immediately how to comfort him. Come, master,' says he, pluck up a good heart, for I have a project in my noddle, that shall bring my mistress to you back again, with as good a will as ever she went from you.' What does my sop, but away immediately to the market among the butchers, poulterers, fishmongers, confectioners, &c., for the best of everything that was in season. Nay, he takes private people in his way too, and chops into the very house of his mistress's relations, as by mistake. This way of proceed ing set the whole town agog to know the meaning of all this bustle; and Esop innocently told everybody that his master's wife was run away from him, and he had married another; his friends up and down were all invited to come and make merry with him, and this was to be the wedding feast. The news flew like lightning, and happy were they that could carry I shall now pass some necessary reflections upon the the first tidings of it to the run-away lady (for every- whole. There never was, perhaps, since the creation body knew Æsop to be a servant in that family). It of the world, so much confusion wrought by so mean, gathered in the rolling, as all other stories do in the so scandalous, so ridiculous instruments; lousy, greasy telling, especially where women's tongues and pas-rogues, to be taken into the hands of princes; porters, sions have the spreading of them. The wife, that was in her nature violent and unsteady, ordered her chariot to be made ready immediately, and away she posts back to her husband, falls upon him with outrages of looks and language; and after the easing of her mind a little, 'No, Xanthus,' says she, do not you flatter yourself with the hopes of enjoying another woman while I am alive.' Xanthus looked upon this as one of Esop's masterpieces; and for that bout all was well again betwixt master and mistress.

6

[The Popish Plot.]

At the first opening of this plot, almost all people's hearts took fire at it, and nothing was heard but the bel

and the coarsest of letter-carriers, to be made the confidants of public ministers; starving indigent varlets, that had not credit in the world for a Brumigen grost, and lived upon the common charity of the basket, to be a matter of seven hundred pound out of pocket in his majesty's service, as Oates and Bedloe pretended; sots, to find treason in words, at length in common post-letters. The four ruffians to have but twenty pound a man for murdering the king by assault, and Sir George Wakeman fifteen thousand pound only for poisoning him, without running the fifteenth part of the risk; nay, and Bedloe fifteen hundred pound for

*The exclusion of the heir-presumptive, the Duke of York, who was a Catholic, from the throne.—Ed.

There is more good taste in the style of Sir Roger L'Estrange's translations of ancient authors than in that of his original works. The following is a brief extract from his version of 'Seneca's Morals :'

[Ingratitude.]

DR RALPH CUDWORTH.

but lending a hand to the helping away of a dead justice: these, and a thousand incredibilities more, must be all believed, or the witnesses found to be most DR RALPH CUDWORTH (1617-1688) is celebrated damnably forsworn, unless it were for the evidence's as a very learned divine and philosopher of this age. sake that they had credit given 'em; for the matter He studied at the university of Cambridge, where, of fact, under such circumstances, was morally im- during the thirty years succeeding 1645, he held the possible to be true; and for the probity of the wit-office of regius professor of Hebrew. His principal nesses, they were already as well known as the whip- work, which is entitled The True Intellectual System ping-post, for a pack of swearing, lying, cheating, a of the Universe, was published in 1678, and is deprostitute and an abandoned sort of mercenary vil- signed as a refutation of the atheistical tenets which lains and yet such was the infatuated credulity of at that time were extensively held in England. It the common people at that season, and such the bold executes only a portion of his design; namely, the esand shameless hypocrisy of the managers of that im-tablishment of the following three propositions, which posture, that there was no place for either truth or he regarded as the fundamentals or essentials of true honesty to appear. The inference I draw from this religion: First, that all things in the world do not preposterous way of proceeding is, that the whole story, float without a head and governor; but that there is from end to end, was a practice; that the suborners of a God, an omnipotent understanding being, presiding the perjury were also the protectors and the patrons over all. Secondly, that this God being essentially of it both under one; and that they had their accom- good and just, there is something in its own nature plices in the House of Commons upon this crisis of immutably and eternally just and unjust; and not state, that played the same game which their fore- by arbitrary will, law, and command only. And fathers had done upwards of forty years before. lastly, that we are so far forth principals or masters of our own actions, as to be accountable to justice for them, or to make us guilty and blame-worthy for what we do amiss, and to deserve punishment accordingly.' From this statement by Cudworth in his preface, the reader will observe that he maintained (in opposition to two of the leading doctrines of Hobbes), first, the existence of a natural and everlasting distinction between justice and injustice; and secondly, the freedom of the human will. On the former point he differs from most subsequent opponents of Hobbism, in ascribing our consciousness of the natural difference of right and wrong entirely to the reasoning faculties, and in no degree to sentiment or emotion. As, however, he confines his attention in the Intellectual System' to the first essential of true religion enumerated in the passage just quoted, ethical questions are in that work but incidentally and occasionally touched upon. combating the atheists, he displays a prodigious amount of erudition, and that rare degree of candour which prompts a controversialist to give a full statement of the opinions and arguments which he the reproach of insincerity; and by a contempo means to refute. This fairness brought upon him Socinian, Deist, and even Atheist, were freely aprary Protestant theologian the epithets of Arian, plied to him. He has raised,' says Dryden, such strong objections against the being of a God and Providence, that many think he has not answered them; the common fate,' as Lord Shaftesbury remarks on this occasion, of those who dare to appear fair authors.' This clamour seems to have dislishing the other portions of his scheme. He left, heartened the philosopher, who refrained from pubhowever, several manuscript works, one of which, entitled A Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality, but only introductory in its character, was published in 1731 by Dr Chandler, bishop of Durham. His unprinted writings are now in the British Museum, and include treatises on Moral Good and Evil, Liberty and Necessity, the Creation of the World and the Immortality of the Soul, the Learning of the Hebrews, and Hobbes's Notions concerning the Nature of God and the Extension of Spirits. Mr Dugald Stewart, speaking of the two published works, observes, that The Intellectual System of Cudworth embraces a field much wider than his treatise of Immutable Morality. The latter is particularly directed against the doctrines of Hobbes, and of the Antinomians;* but the former aspires to

The principal causes of ingratitude are pride and self-conceit, avarice, envy, &c. It is a familiar exclamation, 'Tis true, he did this or that for me, but it came so late, and it was so little, I had e'en as good have been without it: If he had not given it to me, he must have given it to somebody else; it was nothing out of his own pocket.' Nay, we are so ungrateful, that he that gives us all we have, if he leaves anything to himself, we reckon that he does us an injury. It cost Julius Cæsar his life the disappointment of his unatiable companions; and yet he reserved nothing of all that he got to himself, but the liberty of disposThere is no benefit so large, but malignity will still lessen it: none so narrow, which a good nterpretation will not enlarge. No man shall ever be grateful that views a benefit on the wrong side, or takes a good office by the wrong handle. The avaricious man is naturally ungrateful, for he never thinks he has enough, but without considering what he has, only minds what he covets. Some pretend want of power to make a competent return, and you shall find in others a kind of graceless modesty, that makes a man ashamed of requiting an obligation, because

ng it.

'tis a confession that he has received one.

Not to return one good office for another is inhuman; but to return evil for good is diabolical. There are too many even of this sort, who, the more they owe, the more they hate. There's nothing more dangerous than to oblige those people; for when they are conscious of not paying the debt, they wish the creditor out of the way. It is a mortal hatred that which arises

from the shame of an abused benefit. When we are

on the asking side, what a deal of cringing there is, and profession. Well, I shall never forget this favour, it will be an eternal obligation to me.' But, within a while the note is changed, and we hear no more words on't, till by little and little it is all quite forgotten. So long as we stand in need of a benefit, there is nothing dearer to us; nor anything cheaper when we have received it. And yet a man may as well refuse to deliver up a sum of money that's left him in trust, without a suit, as not to return a good office without asking; and when we have no value any further for the benefit, we do commonly care as little for the author. People follow their interest; one man is grateful for his convenience, and another man is ungrateful for the same reason.

In

*The Antinomians were a sect of Presbyterians which sprang up during the confusion of the civil war in England. Their designation is a Greek compound, signifying enemies of

tear up by the roots all the principles, both physical and metaphysical, of the Epicurean philosophy. It is a work, certainly, which reflects much honour on the talents of the author, and still more on the boundless extent of his learning; but it is so ill suited to the taste of the present age, that, since the time of Mr Harris and Dr Price, I scarcely recollect the slightest reference to it in the writings of our British metaphysicians. Of its faults (beside the general disposition of the author to discuss questions placed altogether beyond the reach of our faculties), the most prominent is the wild hypothesis of a plastic nature; or, in other words, "of a vital and spiritual, but unintelligent and necessary agent, created by the Deity for the execution of his purposes." Notwithstanding, however, these and many other abatements of its merits, the "Intellectual System" will for ever remain a precious mine of information to those whose curiosity may lead them to study the spirit of the ancient theories." A Latin translation of this work was published by Mosheim at Jena in 1733. A few specimens of the originalling; as we may approach near to a mountain, and are subjoined:

have not a perfectly comprehensive knowledge, or such as is adequate and commensurate to the essences of things; from whence we ought to be led to this acknowledgment, that there is another Perfect Mind or Understanding Being above us in the universe, from which our imperfect minds were derived, and upon which they do depend. Wherefore, if we can have no idea or conception of anything, whereof we have not a full and perfect comprehension, then can we not have an idea or conception of the nature of any substance. But though we do not comprehend all truth, as if our mind were above it, or master of it, and cannot penetrate into, and look quite through the nature of everything, yet may rational souls frame certain ideas and conceptions, of whatsoever is in the orb of being proportionate to their own nature, and sufficient for their purpose. And though we cannot fully comprehend the Deity, nor exhaust the infiniteness of its perfection, yet may we have an idea of a Being absolutely perfect; such a one as is nostro modulo conformis, agreeable and proportionate to our measure and scanttouch it with our hands, though we cannot encompass it all round, and enclasp it within our arms. Whatsoever is in its own nature absolutely unconceivable, is nothing; but not whatsoever is not fully compre

[God, though Incomprehensible, not Inconceivable.] It doth not at all follow, because God is incomprehensible by our imperfect understandings. hensible to our finite and narrow understandings, that he is utterly inconceivable by them, so that they cannot frame any idea of him at all, and he may therefore be concluded to be a non-entity. For it is certain that we cannot comprehend ourselves, and that we have not such an adequate and comprehensive knowledge of the essence of any substantial thing as that we can perfectly master and conquer it. It was a truth, though abused by the sceptics, akatalepton ti, something incomprehensible in the essence of the lowest substances. For even body itself, which the atheists think themselves so well acquainted with, because they can feel it with their fingers, and which is the only substance that they acknowledge either in themselves or in the universe, hath such puzzling difficulties and entanglements in the speculation of it, that they can never be able to extricate themselves from. We might instance, also, in some accidental things, as time and motion. Truth is bigger than our minds, and we are not the same with it, but have a lower participation only of the intellectual nature, and are rather apprehenders than comprehenders thereof. This is indeed one badge of our creaturely state, that we

the law,' it being their opinion that exhortations to morality

were unnecessary, at once to the elect, whom the divine grace would of itself lead to the practice of piety and virtue, and to

the non-elect, whose salvation and virtuous conduct were, by the very circumstance of non-election, rendered impossible.

Some of the Antinomian doctors carried their views so far as to maintain, that as the elect cannot fall from grace, nor forfeit the divine favour, so it follows that the wicked actions they commit, and the violations of the divine law with which they are chargeable, are not really sinful, nor are to be considered as instances of their departing from the law of God; and that, consequently, they have no occasion either to confess their sins or to break them off by repentance.' Baxter and Tillotson were among the distinguished opponents of the tenets of this sect.-(See Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History, cent. xvii. chap ii. sect. 23.) Cudworth, in his Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality,' classes with the atheists of antiquity some of his contemporaries, who thought that God may command what is contrary to moral rules; that he has no inclination to the good of his creatures; that he may justly doom an innocent being to eternal torments; and that whatever God does will, for that reason is just, because he wills it.' He does not mention, however, by what sect these views were

held.

*First Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopædia Britannica, 7th edition, p. 44.

It is true, indeed, that the Deity is more incomprehensible to us than anything else whatsoever, which proceeds from the fulness of its being and perfection, and from the transcendency of its brightness; but for the very same reason may it be said also in some sense, that it is more knowable and conceivable than any thing. As the sun, though by reason of its excessive splendour it dazzle our weak sight, yet is it, notwithstanding, far more visible also than any of the nebu Where there is losa stella-the small misty stars. more of light there is more visibility; so, where there is more of entity, reality, and perfection, there is more of conceptibility and cognoscibility; such a thing filling up the mind more, and acting more strongly upon it. Nevertheless, because our weak and imperfect minds are lost in the vast immensity and redundancy of the Deity, and overcome with its transcendent light and dazzling brightness, therefore hath it to us an appearance of darkness and incomprehensibility; as the unbounded expansion of light, in the clear transparent ether, hath to us the apparition of an azure obscurity; which yet is not an absolute thing in itself, but only relative to our sense, and a mere fancy in us.

being an argument against the reality of its existence, The incomprehensibility of the Deity is so far from as that it is most certain, on the contrary, that were there nothing incomprehensible to us, who are but contemptible pieces, and small atoms of the universe; were there no other being in the world but what our finite understandings could span or fathom, and encompass round about, look through and through, have a commanding view of, and perfectly conquer and subdue under them, then could there be nothing absolutely and infinitely perfect, that is, no God.

And nature itself plainly intimates to s that there is some such absolutely perfect Being, which, though not inconceivable, yet is incomprehensible to our finite understandings, by certain passions, which it hath implanted in us, that otherwise would want an object to display themselves upon; namely, those of devout veneration, adoration, and admiration, together with a kind of ecstacy and pleasing horror; which, in the silent language of nature, seem to speak thus much to us, that there is some object in the world so much bigger and vaster than our mind and thoughts, that it is the very same to them that the ocean is to narrow vessels; so that, when they have taken into themselves as much as they can thereof by contemplation,