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DR. JOHNSON'S WORKS.


REVIEWS, POLITICAL TRACTS,

AND

LIVES OF EMINENT PERSONS.


THE WORKS OF

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.

IN NINE VOLUMES.


VOLUME THE SIXTH.


MDCCCXXV.






CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.


REVIEWS.

Letter on Du Halde's history of China.

Review of the account of the conduct of the dutchess of Marlborough.

Review of memoirs of the court of Augustus.

Review of four letters from sir Isaac Newton.

Review of a journal of eight days' journey.

Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer.

Review of an essay on the writings and genius of Pope.

Review of a free enquiry into the nature and origin of evil.

Review of the history of the Royal Society of London, &c.

Review of the general history of Polybius.

Review of miscellanies on moral and religious subjects.

Account of a book entitled an historical and critical enquiry into the
evidence produced by the earls of Moray and Morton against Mary queen of
Scots, &c.

Marmor Norfolciense; or, an essay on an ancient prophetical inscription
in monkish rhyme, lately discovered near Lynn, in Norfolk.

Observations on the state of affairs in 1756.

An introduction to the political state of Great Britain.

Observations on the treaty between his Britannic majesty and his
imperial majesty of all the Russias, &c.

Introduction to the proceedings of the committee appointed to manage the
contributions for clothing French prisoners of war.

On the bravery of the English common soldiers.


POLITICAL TRACTS.

Prefatory observations to political tracts.

The False Alarm. 1770.

Prefatory observations on Falkland's islands.

Thoughts on the late transactions respecting Falkland's islands.

The Patriot.

Taxation no tyranny; an answer to the resolutions and address of the
American congress. 1775.


LIVES OF EMINENT PERSONS.

Father Paul Sarpi.

Boerhaave.

Blake.

Sir Francis Drake.

Barretier.

Additional account of the life of Barretier in the Gentleman's Magazine,
1742.

Morin.

Burman.

Sydenham.

Cheynel.

Cave.

King of Prussia.

Browne.

Ascham.






REVIEWS.




LETTER ON DU HALDE'S HISTORY OF CHINA, 1738.


There are few nations in the world more talked of, or less known, than
the Chinese. The confused and imperfect account which travellers have
given of their grandeur, their sciences, and their policy, have,
hitherto, excited admiration, but have not been sufficient to satisfy
even a superficial curiosity. I, therefore, return you my thanks for
having undertaken, at so great an expense, to convey to English readers
the most copious and accurate account, yet published, of that remote and
celebrated people, whose antiquity, magnificence, power, wisdom,
peculiar customs, and excellent constitution, undoubtedly deserve the
attention of the publick.

As the satisfaction found in reading descriptions of distant countries
arises from a comparison which every reader naturally makes, between the
ideas which he receives from the relation, and those which were familiar
to him before; or, in other words, between the countries with which he
is acquainted, and that which the author displays to his imagination; so
it varies according to the likeness or dissimilitude of the manners of
the two nations. Any custom or law, unheard and unthought of before,
strikes us with that surprise which is the effect of novelty; but a
practice conformable to our own pleases us, because it flatters our
self-love, by showing us that our opinions are approved by the general
concurrence of mankind. Of these two pleasures, the first is more
violent, the other more lasting; the first seems to partake more of
instinct than reason, and is not easily to be explained, or defined; the
latter has its foundation in good sense and reflection, and evidently
depends on the same principles with most human passions.

An attentive reader will frequently feel each of these agreeable
emotions in the perusal of Du Halde. He will find a calm, peaceful
satisfaction, when he reads the moral precepts and wise instructions of
the Chinese sages; he will find that virtue is in every place the same;
and will look with new contempt on those wild reasoners, who affirm,
that morality is merely ideal, and that the distinctions between good
and ill are wholly chimerical.

But he will enjoy all the pleasure that novelty can afford, when he
becomes acquainted with the Chinese government and constitution; he will
be amazed to find that there is a country where nobility and knowledge
are the same, where men advance in rank as they advance in learning, and
promotion is the effect of virtuous industry; where no man thinks
ignorance a mark of greatness, or laziness the privilege of high birth.

His surprise will be still heightened by the relations he will there
meet with, of honest ministers, who, however incredible it may seem,
have been seen more than once in that monarchy, and have adventured to
admonish the emperours of any deviation from the laws of their country,
or any errour in their conduct, that has endangered either their own
safety, or the happiness of their people. He will read of emperours,
who, when they have been addressed in this manner, have neither stormed,
nor threatened, nor kicked their ministers, nor thought it majestick to
be obstinate in the wrong; but have, with a greatness of mind worthy of
a Chinese monarch, brought their actions willingly to the test of
reason, law, and morality, and scorned to exert their power in defence
of that which they could not support by argument.

I must confess my wonder at these relations was very great, and had been
much greater, had I not often entertained my imagination with an
instance of the like conduct in a prince of England, on an occasion that
happened not quite a century ago, and which I shall relate, that so
remarkable an example of spirit and firmness in a subject, and of
conviction and compliance in a prince, may not be forgotten. And I hope
you will look upon this letter as intended to do honour to my country,
and not to serve your interest by promoting your undertaking.

The prince, at the christening of his first son, had appointed a noble
duke to stand as proxy for the father of the princess, without regard to
the claim of a marquis, (heir apparent to a higher title,) to whom, as
lord of the bedchamber, then in waiting, that honour properly belonged.
--The marquis was wholly unacquainted with the affair, till he heard,
at dinner, the duke's health drunk, by the name of the prince he was
that evening to represent. This he took an opportunity, after dinner, of
inquiring the reason of, and was informed, by the prince's treasurer, of
his highness's intention. The marquis immediately declared, that he
thought his right invaded, and his honour injured, which he could not
bear without requiring satisfaction from the usurper of his privileges;
nor would he longer serve a prince who paid no regard to his lawful
pretensions. The treasurer could not deny that the marquis's claim was
incontestable, and, by his permission, acquainted the prince with his
resolution. The prince, thereupon, sending for the marquis, demanded,
with a resentful and imperious air, how he could dispute his commands,
and by what authority he presumed to control him in the management of
his own family, and the christening of his own son. The marquis
answered, that he did not encroach upon the prince's right, but only
defended his own: that he thought his honour concerned, and, as he was a
young man, would not enter the world with the loss of his reputation.
The prince, exasperated to a very high degree, repeated his commands;
but the marquis, with a spirit and firmness not to be depressed or
shaken, persisted in his determination to assert his claim, and
concluded with declaring that he would do himself the justice that was
denied him; and that not the prince himself should trample on his
character. He was then ordered to withdraw, and the duke coming to him,
assured him, that the honour was offered him unasked; that when he
accepted it, he was not informed of his lordship's claim, and that now
he very willingly resigned it. The marquis very gracefully acknowledged
the civility of the duke's expressions, and declared himself satisfied
with his grace's conduct; but thought it inconsistent with his honour to
accept the representation as a cession of the duke, or on any other
terms than as his own acknowledged right. The prince, being informed of
the whole conversation, and having, upon inquiry, found all the
precedents on the marquis's side, thought it below his dignity to
persist in an errour, and, restoring the marquis to his right upon his
own conditions, continued him in his favour, believing that he might
safely trust his affairs in the hands of a man, who had so nice a sense
of honour, and so much spirit to assert it.




REVIEW OF THE ACCOUNT OF THE CONDUCT OF THE DUTCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH [1].


The universal regard, which is paid by mankind to such accounts of
publick transactions as have been written by those who were engaged in
them, may be, with great probability, ascribed to that ardent love of
truth, which nature has kindled in the breast of man, and which remains
even where every other laudable passion is extinguished. We cannot but
read such narratives with uncommon curiosity, because we consider the
writer as indubitably possessed of the ability to give us just
representations, and do not always reflect, that, very often,
proportionate to the opportunities of knowing the truth, are the
temptations to disguise it.

Authors of this kind have, at least, an incontestable superiority over
those whose passions are the same, and whose knowledge is less. It is
evident that those who write in their own defence, discover often more
impartiality, and less contempt of evidence, than the advocates which
faction or interest have raised in their favour.

It is, however, to be remembered, that the parent of all memoirs, is the
ambition of being distinguished from the herd of mankind, and the fear
of either infamy or oblivion, passions which cannot but have some degree
of influence, and which may, at least, affect the writer's choice of
facts, though they may not prevail upon him to advance known falsehoods.
He may aggravate or extenuate particular circumstances, though he
preserves the general transaction; as the general likeness may be
preserved in painting, though a blemish is hid or a beauty improved.

Every man that is solicitous about the esteem of others, is, in a great
degree, desirous of his own, and makes, by consequence, his first
apology for his conduct to himself; and when he has once deceived his
own heart, which is, for the greatest part, too easy a task, he
propagates the deceit in the world, without reluctance or consciousness
of falsehood.

But to what purpose, it may be asked, are such reflections, except to
produce a general incredulity, and to make history of no use? The man
who knows not the truth cannot, and he who knows it, will not tell it;
what then remains, but to distrust every relation, and live in perpetual
negligence of past events; or, what is still more disagreeable, in
perpetual suspense?

That by such remarks some incredulity is, indeed, produced, cannot be
denied; but distrust is a necessary qualification of a student in
history. Distrust quickens his discernment of different degrees of
probability, animates his search after evidence, and, perhaps, heightens
his pleasure at the discovery of truth; for truth, though not always
obvious, is generally discoverable; nor is it any where more likely to
be found than in private memoirs, which are generally published at a
time when any gross falsehood may be detected by living witnesses, and
which always contain a thousand incidents, of which the writer could not
have acquired a certain knowledge, and which he has no reason for
disguising.

Such is the account lately published by the dutchess of Marlborough, of
her own conduct, by which those who are very little concerned about the
character which it is principally intended to preserve or to retrieve,
may be entertained and instructed. By the perusal of this account, the
inquirer into human nature may obtain an intimate acquaintance with the
characters of those whose names have crowded the latest histories, and
discover the relation between their minds and their actions. The
historian may trace the progress of great transactions, and discover the
secret causes of important events. And, to mention one use more, the
polite writer may learn an unaffected dignity of style, and an artful
simplicity of narration.

The method of confirming her relation, by inserting, at length, the
letters that every transaction occasioned, has not only set the greatest
part of the work above the danger of confutation, but has added to the
entertainment of the reader, who has now the satisfaction of forming to
himself the characters of the actors, and judging how nearly such, as
have hitherto been given of them, agree with those which they now give
of themselves.

Even of those whose letters could not be made publick, we have a more
exact knowledge than can be expected from general histories, because we
see them in their private apartments, in their careless hours, and
observe those actions in which they indulged their own inclinations,
without any regard to censure or applause.

Thus it is, that we are made acquainted with the disposition of king
William, of whom it may be collected, from various instances, that he
was arbitrary, insolent, gloomy, rapacious, and brutal; that he was, at
all times, disposed to play the tyrant; that he had, neither in great
things, nor in small, the manners of a gentleman; that he was capable of
gaining money by mean artifices, and that he only regarded his promise
when it was his interest to keep it.

There are, doubtless, great numbers who will be offended with this
delineation of the mind of the immortal William, but they whose honesty
or sense enables them to consider impartially the events of his reign,
will now be enabled to discover the reason of the frequent oppositions
which he encountered, and of the personal affronts which he was,
sometimes, forced to endure. They will observe, that it is not always
sufficient to do right, and that it is often necessary to add
gracefulness to virtue. They will recollect how vain it is to endeavour
to gain men by great qualities, while our cursory behaviour is insolent
and offensive; and that those may be disgusted by little things, who can
scarcely be pleased with great.

Charles the second, by his affability and politeness, made himself the
idol of the nation, which he betrayed and sold. William the third was,
for his insolence and brutality, hated by that people, which he
protected and enriched:--had the best part of these two characters been
united in one prince, the house of Bourbon had fallen before him.

It is not without pain, that the reader observes a shade encroaching
upon the light with which the memory of queen Mary has been hitherto
invested--the popular, the beneficent, the pious, the celestial queen
Mary, from whose presence none ever withdrew without an addition to his
happiness. What can be charged upon this delight of human kind? Nothing
less than that _she wanted bowels_, and was insolent with her power;
that she was resentful, and pertinacious in her resentment; that she
descended to mean acts of revenge, when heavier vengeance was not in her
power; that she was desirous of controlling where she had no authority,
and backward to forgive, even when she had no real injury to complain
of.

This is a character so different from all those that have been,
hitherto, given of this celebrated princess, that the reader stands in
suspense, till he considers the inconsistencies in human conduct,
remembers that no virtue is without its weakness, and considers that
queen Mary's character has, hitherto, had this great advantage, that it
has only been compared with those of kings.

The greatest number of the letters inserted in this account, were
written by queen Anne, of which it may be truly observed, that they will
be equally useful for the, confutation of those who have exalted or
depressed her character. They are written with great purity and
correctness, without any forced expressions, affected phrases, or
unnatural sentiments; and show uncommon clearness of understanding,
tenderness of affection, and rectitude of intention; but discover, at
the same time, a temper timorous, anxious, and impatient of misfortune;
a tendency to burst into complaints, helpless dependance on the
affection of others, and a weak desire of moving compassion. There is,
indeed, nothing insolent or overbearing; but then there is nothing
great, or firm, or regal; nothing that enforces obedience and respect,
or which does not rather invite opposition and petulance. She seems born
for friendship, not for government; and to be unable to regulate the
conduct of others, otherwise than by her own example.

That this character is just, appears from the occurrences in her reign,
in which the nation was governed, for many years, by a party whose
principles she detested, but whose influence she knew not how to
obviate, and to whose schemes she was subservient against her
inclination.

The charge of tyrannising over her, which was made, by turns, against
each party, proves that, in the opinion of both, she was easily to be
governed; and though it may be supposed, that the letters here published
were selected with some regard to respect and ceremony, it appears,
plainly enough, from them, that she was what she has been represented,
little more than the slave of the Marlborough family.

The inferiour characters, as they are of less importance, are less
accurately delineated; the picture of Harley is, at least, partially
drawn: all the deformities are heightened, and the beauties, for
beauties of mind he certainly had, are entirely omitted.




REVIEW OF MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF AUGUSTUS;

BY THOMAS BLACKWELL, J.U.D.

PRINCIPAL OF MARISCHAL COLLEGE, IN THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN [2].


The first effect, which this book has upon the reader, is that of
disgusting him with the author's vanity. He endeavours to persuade the
world, that here are some new treasures of literature spread before his
eyes; that something is discovered, which, to this happy day, had been
concealed in darkness; that, by his diligence, time has been robbed of
some valuable monument which he was on the point of devouring; and that
names and facts, doomed to oblivion, are now restored to fame.

How must the unlearned reader be surprised, when he shall be told that
Mr. Blackwell has neither digged in the ruins of any demolished city,
nor found out the way to the library of Fez; nor had a single book in
his hands, that has not been in the possession of every man that was
inclined to read it, for years and ages; and that his book relates to a
people, who, above all others, have furnished employment to the
studious, and amusements to the idle; who have scarcely left behind them
a coin or a stone, which has not been examined and explained a thousand
times; and whose dress, and food, and household stuff, it has been the
pride of learning to understand.

A man need not fear to incur the imputation of vicious diffidence or
affected humility, who should have forborne to promise many novelties,
when he perceived such multitudes of writers possessed of the same
materials, and intent upon the same purpose. Mr. Blackwell knows well
the opinion of Horace, concerning those that open their undertakings
with magnificent promises; and he knows, likewise, the dictates of
common sense and common honesty, names of greater authority than that of
Horace, who direct, that no man should promise what he cannot perform.

I do not mean to declare, that this volume has nothing new, or that the
labours of those who have gone before our author, have made his
performance an useless addition to the burden of literature. New works
may be constructed with old materials; the disposition of the parts may
show contrivance; the ornaments interspersed may discover elegance.

It is not always without good effect, that men, of proper
qualifications, write, in succession, on the same subject, even when the
latter add nothing to the information given by the former; for the same
ideas may be delivered more intelligibly or more delightfully by one
than by another, or with attractions that may lure minds of a different
form. No writer pleases all, and every writer may please some.

But, after all, to inherit is not to acquire; to decorate is not to
make; and the man, who had nothing to do but to read the ancient
authors, who mention the Roman affairs, and reduce them to common
places, ought not to boast himself as a great benefactor to the studious
world.

After a preface of boast, and a letter of flattery, in which he seems to
imitate the address of Horace, in his "vile potabis modicis Sabinum"--he
opens his book with telling us, that the "Roman republic, after the
horrible proscription, was no more at _bleeding Rome_. The regal power
of her consuls, the authority of her senate, and the majesty of her
people, were now trampled under foot; these [for those] divine laws and
hallowed customs, that had been the essence of her constitution--were
set at nought, and her best friends were lying exposed in their blood."

These were surely very dismal times to those who suffered; but I know
not, why any one but a schoolboy, in his declamation, should whine over
the commonwealth of Rome, which grew great only by the misery of the
rest of mankind. The Romans, like others, as soon as they grew rich,
grew corrupt, and, in their corruption, sold the lives and freedoms of
themselves, and of one another.

"About this time, Brutus had his patience put to the _highest_ trial: he
had been married to Clodia; but whether the family did not please him,
or whether he was dissatisfied with the lady's behaviour during his
absence, he soon entertained thoughts of a separation. _This raised a
good deal of talk_, and the women of the Clodian family inveighed
bitterly against Brutus--but he married Portia, who was worthy of such a
father as M. Cato, and such a husband as M. Brutus. She had a soul
capable of an _exalted passion_, and found a proper object to raise and
give it a sanction; she did not only love but adored her husband; his
worth, his truth, his every shining and heroic quality, made her gaze on
him like a god, while the endearing returns of esteem and tenderness she
met with, brought her joy, her pride, her every wish to centre in her
beloved Brutus."

When the reader has been awakened by this rapturous preparation, he
hears the whole story of Portia in the same luxuriant style, till she
breathed out her last, a little before the _bloody proscription_, and
"Brutus complained heavily of his friends at Rome, as not having paid
due attention to his lady in the declining state of her health."

He is a great lover of modern terms. His senators and their wives are
_gentlemen and ladies_. In this review of Brutus's army, _who was under
the command of gallant men, not braver officers than true patriots_, he
tells _us_, "that Sextus, the questor, was _paymaster, secretary at war,
and commissary general_; and that the _sacred discipline_ of the Romans
required the closest connexion, like that of father and son, to subsist
between the general of an army and his questor. Cicero was _general of
the cavalry_, and the next _general officer_ was Flavius, _master of Ihe
artillery_, the elder Lentulus was _admiral_, and the younger _rode_ in
the _band of volunteers_; under these the tribunes, _with many others,
too tedious to name_." Lentulus, however, was but a subordinate officer;
for we are informed afterwards, that the Romans had made Sextus Pompeius
lord high admiral in all the seas of their dominions. Among other
affectations of this writer, is a furious and unnecessary zeal for
liberty; or rather, for one form of government as preferable to another.
This, indeed, might be suffered, because political institution is a
subject in which men have always differed, and, if they continue to obey
their lawful governours, and attempt not to make innovations, for the
sake of their favourite schemes, they may differ for ever, without any
just reproach from one another. But who can bear the hardy champion, who
ventures nothing? who, in full security, undertakes the defence of the
assassination of Cassar, and declares his resolution to speak plain? Yet
let not just sentiments be overlooked: he has justly observed, that the
greater part of mankind will be naturally prejudiced against Brutus, for
all feel the benefits of private friendship; but few can discern the
advantages of a well-constituted government [3].

We know not whether some apology may not be necessary for the distance
between the first account of this book and its continuation. The truth
is, that this work, not being forced upon our attention by much publick
applause or censure, was sometimes neglected, and sometimes forgotten;
nor would it, perhaps, have been now resumed, but that we might avoid to
disappoint our readers by an abrupt desertion of any subject.

It is not our design to criticise the facts of this history, but the
style; not the veracity, but the address of the writer; for, an account
of the ancient Romans, as it cannot nearly interest any present reader,
and must be drawn from writings that have been long known, can owe its
value only to the language in which it is delivered, and the reflections
with which it is accompanied. Dr. Blackwell, however, seems to have
heated his imagination, so as to be much affected with every event, and
to believe that he can affect others. Enthusiasm is, indeed,
sufficiently contagious; but I never found any of his readers much
enamoured of the _glorious Pompey, the patriot approv'd_, or much
incensed against the _lawless Caesar_, whom this author, probably, stabs
every day and night in his sleeping or waking dreams.

He is come too late into the world with his fury for freedom, with his
Brutus and Cassius. We have all, on this side of the Tweed, long since
settled our opinions: his zeal for Roman liberty and declamations
against the violators of the republican constitution, only stand now in
the reader's way, who wishes to proceed in the narrative without the
interruption of epithets and exclamations. It is not easy to forbear
laughter at a man so bold in fighting shadows, so busy in a dispute two
thousand years past, and so zealous for the honour of a people, who,
while they were poor, robbed mankind, and, as soon as they became rich,
robbed one another. Of these robberies our author seems to have no very
quick sense, except when they are committed by Caesar's party, for every
act is sanctified by the name of a patriot.

If this author's skill in ancient literature were less generally
acknowledged, one might sometimes suspect, that he had too frequently
consulted the French writers. He tells us, that Archelaus, the Rhodian,
made a speech to Cassius, and, _in so saying_, dropt some tears; and
that Cassius, after the reduction of Rhodes, was _covered with
glory_.--Deiotarus was a keen and happy spirit--the ingrate Castor kept
his court.

His great delight is to show his universal acquaintance with terms of
art, with words that every other polite writer has avoided and despised.
When Pompey conquered the pirates, he destroyed fifteen hundred ships of
the line.--The Xanthian parapets were tore down.--Brutus, suspecting
that his troops were plundering, commanded the trumpets to sound to
their colours.--Most people understood the act of attainder passed by
the senate.--The Numidian troopers were unlikely in their appearance.--
The Numidians beat up one quarter after another.--Salvidienus resolved
to pass his men over, in boats of leather, and he gave orders for
equipping a sufficient number of that sort of small craft.--Pompey had
light, agile frigates, and fought in a strait, where the current and
caverns occasion swirls and a roll.--A sharp out-look was kept by the
admiral.--It is a run of about fifty Roman miles.--Brutus broke Lipella
in the sight of the army.--Mark Antony garbled the senate. He was a
brave man, well qualified for a commodore.

In his choice of phrases he frequently uses words with great solemnity,
which every other mouth and pen has appropriated to jocularity and
levity! The Rhodians gave up the contest, and, in poor plight, fled back
to Rhodes.--Boys and girls were easily kidnapped.--Deiotarus was a
mighty believer of augury.--Deiotarus destroyed his ungracious
progeny.--The regularity of the Romans was their mortal aversion.--They
desired the consuls to curb such heinous doings.--He had such a shrewd
invention, that no side of a question came amiss to him.--Brutus found
his mistress a coquettish creature.

He sometimes, with most unlucky dexterity, mixes the grand and the
burlesque together; _the violation of faith, sir_, says Cassius, _lies
at the door of the Rhodians by reite-rated acts of perfidy_.--The iron
grate fell down, crushed those under it to death, and catched the rest
as in a trap.--When the Xanthians heard the military shout, and saw the
flame mount, they concluded there would be no mercy. It was now about
sunset, and they had been at hot work since noon.

He has, often, words, or phrases, with which our language has hitherto
had no knowledge.--One was a heart-friend to the republic--A deed was
expeded.--The Numidians begun to reel, and were in hazard of falling
into confusion.--The tutor embraced his pupil close in his arms.--Four
hundred women were taxed, who have, no doubt, been the wives of the best
Roman citizens.--Men not born to action are inconsequential in
government.--Collectitious troops.--The foot, by their violent attack,
began the fatal break in the Pharsaliac field.--He and his brother, with
a politic, common to other countries, had taken opposite sides.

His epithets are of the gaudy or hyperbolical kind. The glorious
news--eager hopes and dismal fears--bleeding Rome--divine laws and
hallowed customs--merciless war--intense anxiety.

Sometimes the reader is suddenly ravished with a sonorous sentence, of
which, when the noise is past, the meaning does not long remain. When
Brutus set his legions to fill a moat, instead of heavy dragging and
slow toil, they set about it with huzzas and racing, as if they had been
striving at the Olympic games. They hurled impetuous down the huge trees
and stones, and, with shouts, forced them into the water; so that the
work, expected to continue half the campaign, was, with rapid toil,
completed in a few days. Brutus's soldiers fell to the gate with
resistless fury; it gave way, at last, with hideous crash.--This great
and good man, doing his duty to his country, received a mortal wound,
and glorious fell in the cause of Rome; may his memory be ever dear to
all lovers of liberty, learning, and humanity! This promise ought ever
to embalm his memory.--The queen of nations was torn by no foreign
invader.--Rome fell a sacrifice to her own sons, and was ravaged by her
unnatural offspring: all the great men of the state, all the good, all
the holy, were openly murdered by the wickedest and worst.--Little
islands cover the harbour of Brindisi, and form the narrow outlet from
the numerous creeks that compose its capacious port.--At the appearance
of Brutus and Cassius, a shout of joy rent the heavens from the
surrounding multitudes.

Such are the flowers which may be gathered, by every hand, in every part
of this garden of eloquence. But having thus freely mentioned our
author's faults, it remains that we acknowledge his merit; and confess,
that this book is the work of a man of letters, that it is