powerful to be confined within the humbler boundaries of mere negative duties. True generosity rises above the ordinary rules of social conduct, and flows with much too full a stream to be comprehended within the precise marks of formal precepts. It is a vigorous principle in the soul, which opens and expands all her virtues far beyond those which are only the forced and unnatural productions of timid obedience. The man who is influenced singly by motives of the latter kind, aims no higher than at certain authoritative standards, without ever attempting to reach those glorious elevations which constitute the only true heroism of the social character. Religion, without this sovereign principle, degenerates into slavish fear, and wisdom into a specious cunning: learning is but the avarice of the mind, and wit its more pleasing kind of madness. In a word, generosity sanctifies every passion, and adds grace to every acquisition of the soul; and if it does not necessarily include, at least it reflects a lustre upon the whole circle of moral and intellectual qualities.

But I am running into a general panegyric upon generosity, when I only meant to acknowledge the particular instance you have given me of yours, in being desirous of communicating to me a treasure, which I know much better how to value than how to deserve. Be assured, therefore, though Euphronius had none of those polite accomplishments you enumerate, yet, after what you have informed me concerning his heart, I should esteem his friendship of more worth, than all the learning of ancient Greece, and all the virtù of modern Italy. I am, &c.

XXVII. TO SAPPHO.*

March 10, 1731.

WHILE yet no amorous youths around thee bow,
Nor flattering verse conveys the faithless vow;
To graver notes will Sappho's soul attend,
And, ere she hears the lover, hear the friend?

;

Let maids less bless'd employ their meaner arts
To reign proud tyrants o'er unnumber'd hearts
May Sappho learn (for nobler triumphs born)
Those little conquests of her sex to scorn.
To form the bosom to each generous deed;
To plant thy mind with every useful seed;
Be these thy arts; nor spare the grateful toil,
Where nature's hand has bless'd the happy soil.
So shalt thou know, with pleasing skill, to blend
The lovely mistress and instructive friend:
So shalt thou know, when unrelenting Time
Shall spoil those charms yet opening to their prime,
To ease the loss of beauty's transient flower,
While reason keeps what rapture gave before.
And oh! whilst wit, fair dawning, spreads its ray,
Serenely rising to a glorious day,

To hail the growing lustre oft be mine,
Thou early favourite of the sacred Nine!

And shall the Muse with blameless boast pretend,
In youth's gay bloom that Sappho call'd me friend;
That urged by me she shuun'd the dangerous way,
Where heedless maids in endless error stray;
That scorning soon her sex's idler art,

Fair praise inspired, and virtue warm'd her heart;

A young lady of thirteen years of age.

That fond to reach the distant paths of fame,
I taught her infant genius where to aim?
Thus when the feather'd choir first tempt the sky,
And, all unskill'd, their feeble pinions try,

The experienced sire prescribes the adventurous height,

Guides the young wing, and pleased attends the flight.

XXVIII. TO PHIDIPPUS.

Whilst,

YES, Phidippus, I entirely agree with you; the ancients most certainly had much loftier notions of friendship than seem to be generally entertained at present. But may they not justly be considered, on this subject, as downright enthusiasts ? indeed, they talk of friendship as a virtue, or place it in a rank little inferior, I can admire the generous warmth of their sentiments; but when they go so far as to make it a serious question, whether justice herself ought not, in some particular cases, to yield to this their supreme affection of the heart; there, I confess, they leave me far behind.

If we had not a treatise extant upon the subject, we should scarce believe this fact, upon the credit of those authors who have delivered it down to us: but Cicero himself has ventured to take the affirmative side of this debate, in his celebrated dialogue inscribed Lælius. He followed, it seems, in this notion, the sentiments of the Grecian Theophrastus, who publicly maintained the same astonishing theory.

It must be confessed, however, these admirers of the false sublime in friendship talk upon this

subject with so much caution, and in such general terms, that one is inclined to think they themselves a little suspected the validity of those very principles they would inculcate. We find, at least, a remarkable instance to that purpose, in a circumstance related of Chilo, one of those famous sages who are distinguished by the pompous title of the wise men of Greece.

I was

That celebrated philosopher, being upon his deathbed, addressed himself, we are informed, to his friends who stood round him, to the following effect: "I cannot, through the course of a long life, look back with uneasiness upon any single instance of my conduct, unless, perhaps, on that which I am going to mention, wherein, I confess, I am still doubtful whether I acted as I ought, or not. once appointed judge, in conjunction with two others, when my particular friend was arraigned before us. Were the laws to have taken their free course, he must inevitably have been condemned to die. After much debate, therefore, with myself, I resolved upon this expedient: I gave my own vote according to my conscience, but, at the same time, employed all my eloquence to prevail with my associates to absolve the criminal. Now I cannot but reflect upon this act with concern, as fearing there was something of perfidy, in persuading others to go counter to what I myself esteemed right."

It does not, certainly, require any great depth of casuistry to pronounce upon a case of this nature. And yet had Tully, that great master of reason, been Chilo's confessor, upon this occasion, it is very plain he would have given him absolution, to the

just scandal of the most ignorant curate that ever lulled a country village.

What I have here observed, will suggest, if I mistake not, a very clear answer to the question you propose: "Whence it should happen, that we meet with instances of friendship among the Greeks and Romans, far superior to any thing of the same kind which modern times have produced ?" For while the greatest geniuses among them employed their talents in exalting this noble affection, and it was encouraged even by the laws themselves, what effects might not one expect to arise from the concurrence of such powerful causes ? The several

examples of this kind which you have pointed out, are undoubtedly highly animating and singular: to which give me leave to add one instance, no less remarkable, though, I think, not so commonly observed.

Eudamidas, the Corinthian, (as the story is related in Lucian's Toxaris,) though in low circumstances himself, was happy in the friendship of two very wealthy persons, Charixenus and Aretheus. Eudamidas, finding himself drawing near his end, made his will in the following terms: “ I leave my mother to Aretheus, to be maintained and protected by him in her old age. I bequeathe to Charixenus the care of my daughter; desiring that he would see her disposed of in marriage, and portion her, at the same time, with as ample a fortune as his circumstances shall admit: and, in case of the death of either of these my two friends, I substitute the survivor in his place."

This will was looked upon, by some, as we may well imagine, to be extremely ridiculous: however,