IN forming the present series of British Prose WRITERS, one part of the plan was to give a portrait and an allegorical vignette alternately; an arrangement however, which, in some cases, has been found impracticable: but the publisher doubts not that his best efforts to continue the embellishments in their projected form, will meet with the approbation of his subscribers. William Melmoth, Esq. the author of FITZOSBORNE'S LETTERS, was the eldest son of an eminent lawyer of the same name, and member of the honourable society of Lincoln's Inn. His father, whose portrait precedes this preface, and who was born in the year 1666, exercised his profession, as we learn, "with a skill and integrity, which nothing could equal, but the disinterested motive that animated his labours. He often exerted his distinguished abilities, yet refused the reward of them, in defence of "the widow, the fatherless, and him that had none to help him." His admirable treatise on "The great Importance of a religious Life," deserves to be held in perpetual remembrance. In iv a word, few ever passed a more useful, none a more blameless life. He died in 1743. The publisher has received the assurance of an eminent dignitary of the church, the most intimate friend of the author of Fitzosborne, that no portrait of him exists. Respecting the Letters which are now reprinted, and which have so frequently been before the public, it is not necessary in this place to enlarge. FITZOSBORNE'S LETTERS. 1. TO CLYTANDER. Sept. 1739. I ENTIRELY approve of your design: but whilst I rejoice in the hope of seeing Enthusiasm thus successfully attacked in her strongest and most formidable holds, I would claim your mercy for her in another quarter; and after having expelled her from her religious dominions, let me entreat you to leave her in the undisturbed enjoyment of her civil possessions. To own the truth, I look upon enthusiasm, in all other points but that of religion, to be a very necessary turn of mind; as indeed it is a vein which Nature seems to have marked, with more or less strength, in the tempers of most men. No matter what the object is, whether business, pleasures, or the fine arts; whoever pursues them to any purpose, must do so con amore; and enamoratos, you know, of every kind, are all enthusiasts. There is, indeed, a certain heightening faculty which universally prevails through our species; and we are all of us, perhaps, in our several favourite pursuits, pretty much in the circumstances of the renowned knight of La Mancha, when he attacked the barber's brazen basin for Mambrino's golden helmet. What is Tully's aliquid immensum infinitumque, which he professes to aspire after in oratory, but a piece of true rhetorical Quixotism? Yet never, I will venture to affirm, would he have glowed with so much eloquence, had he been warmed with less enthusiasm. I am persuaded, indeed, that nothing great or glorious was ever performed, where this quality had not a principal concern; and as our passions add vigour to our actions, enthusiasm gives spirit to our passions. I might add, too, that it even opens and enlarges our capacities. Accordingly, I have been informed, that one of the great lights of the present age never sits down to study till he has raised his imagination by the power of music. For this purpose, he has a band of instruments placed near his library, which play till he finds himself elevated to a proper height; upon which he gives a signal, and they instantly cease. But those high conceits which are suggested by enthusiasm, contribute not only to the pleasure and perfection of the fine arts, but to most other effects of our action and industry. To strike this spirit, therefore, out of the human constitution, to reduce things to their precise philosophical standard, would be to check some of the main wheels of society, and to fix half the world in an useless apathy. For if enthusiasm did not add an imaginary value to most of the objects of our pursuit; if fancy did not give them their brightest colours; they would generally, perhaps, wear an appearance too contemptible to excite desire : Wearied we should lie down in death, This cheat of life would take no more, |