cefs at beft, they leave the matter in dispute wholly undecided, or imperfectly determined; and fometimes embarrass the subject with additional doubts and perplexities. Neither have the few moderns who have copied them, been, in this respect, more fortunate and we must freely acknowlege, that the Writer of the Dialogues before us, though evidently a man of learning and diftinguished talents, does not appear to fuch an advantage as might be expected: and that, in the preface particularly, he finks greatly beneath himself.

The fubjects he has chofen to discuss in fix dialogues have been fo often agitated, that there is little room for new or ftriking obfervations: yet the dialogues on the conftitution of the English government, afford fome fresh lights, and place the points of controverfy, though not in a new, yet in a more clear and diftinct point of view, than any in which that fubject has been hitherto examined. The Writer has in general been happy in the choice of the perfons who are supposed to difpute together; though it must be confefled, that he makes fome of them maintain propofitions, and talk in a ftile totally inconfiftent with their known and established characters, for which he occafionally and ingeniously apologizes in the notes.

The first dialogue is between Dr. Henry More, and Edmund Waller, Efq; on fincerity in the commerce of the world. The Writer very judiciously makes Mr. Waller perfonate the character of a pliant Ariftippus. If his cotemporaries have done him juftice, he was, indeed, a pattern of infincerity and perfidy: a moft fervile adulator, and abject hypocrite. With regard to the merits of the point in dispute, nothing is concluded. On the contrary, after Mr. Waller has made an artful panegyric on treachery, the Doctor, preparing to reply in favour of philofophy and morality, is haftily interrupted by his adverfary, who will not fuffer him to proceed; but, with an air of triumph, adjourns the debate till they get within doors where, by the bye, the Reader is not suffered to attend them. So that after having collected all that can be advanced in behalf of time-ferving, and infincerity, the difpute clofes without any arguments to wipe off the foul impreffions which fuch doctrine may have imprinted. A fine leffon this for a weak apprehenfion!

The second, on retirement, paffes between Mr. Abraham Cowley, and the Reverend Mr. Thomas Sprat. In this debate, the Poet indulges his fancy in a rapturous and enthufiaftic defcription of retirement and rural felicity: but in this ftrain of perfect enthufiafm, fays Mr. Sprat, I broke in upon him by afking, Whether this was what he called debating

the

the matter calmly with me. Surely, faid I, this is poetry, ⚫ or something ftill more extravagant. You cannot think Í • come prepared to encounter you in this way. I own myfelf no match for you at these weapons, which, indeed, are <too fine for my handling, and very unsuitable to my purpose, <if they were not. The point is not, which of us can fay the handfomeft things, but the trueft, on either fide of the 'queftion. It is, as you faid, plain argument, and not rhetorical flourishes, much lefs poetical raptures, that must decide the matter in debate. Not but a great deal might be ⚫ faid on my fide, and, it may be, with more colour of truth, had I the command of an eloquence proper to set it off. I might afk in my turn, "Where is the mighty charm that draws you to this inglorious folitude, from the duties of bufinefs and converfation, from the proper end and employ<ment of man? How comes it to pass, that this stillness of • a country landscape, this uninftructing, though agreeable enough fcene of fields and waters, fhould have greater beauties in your eye, than flourishing peopled towns, the scenes of • industry and art, of public wealth and happiness? Is not the fublime countenance of man, fo one of your acquaintance terms it, a more delightful object than any of these ⚫ humble beauties that lie before us? And are not the human ‹ virtues, with all their train of lovely and beneficial effects ' in fociety, better worth contemplating, than the products of ' inanimate nature in the field or wood? Where fhall we feek for REASON, but in the minds of men tried and polished in the school of civil converfation? And where hath • VIRTUE fo much as a Being out of the offices of social life? Look well into yourself, I might fay hath not, indeed, 'the proper genius of folitude affected you? Doth not I 'know not what of chagrin and discontent hang about you?

Is there not a gloom upon your mind, which darkens your ' views of human nature, and damps thofe chearful thoughts • and sprightly purposes, which friendship and fociety inspire?'

The fentiments in this declamation are extremely pertinent, and powerfully enforced: nevertheless, much more might have been added. They, however, who are curious to find the matter further difcuffed, may refer to Cicero's Offices, where, upon confideration of this fubject, he juftly concludes, that it is unbecoming a great man, by fheltering himself in the shade of retirement, to defert fociety, and forfake an active station of life.

argu

In fome parts, the Writer does not seem to allow his ments the full force which they are capable of receiving. For,

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inftance, Mr. Sprat afks the Poet, Were Horace and Virgil, think you, as much in earnest as you appear to be, when they were crying out perpetually on their favourite theme of • Otium and Seceffus," they who lived and died in a court ?” To which Mr. Cowley anfwers, I believe they were, • and that the short accounts we have of their lives fhew it, though a perfect difmiffion from the court was what they could not obtain, or had not the refolution to infift upon.'

Here furely Mr. Cowley might have been more pofitive and pertinent in his reply. That Horace, at least, was in earnest, when he talked of his favourite theme of retirement, is paft belief. His exclamation.

O rus! quando ego te efpiciam? quandoque licebit
Nunc veterum libris, nunc fomno & inertibus horis
Ducere follicite jucunda oblivia vitæ ?

is certainly more than a flight of poetical imagination. If this does not come from the heart, there is no truth in language. His apologies likewife to Mecenas,

Quinque dies tibi follicitus me rure futurum,

Sextilem totum mendax defideror

plainly fhew that he visited the court with reluctance, and that it was a violence to his nature to quit his beloved retirement.

In the end, however, Mr. Cowley adheres to his refolution. Neither does he attempt to make a convert of his reverend friend. On the contrary, he diffuades him from following him into the fhade, but recommends it to him to purfue promotion in the bustle of a court; of which he gives the following curious and fpirited defcription.

There are but two forts of men, purfucd he, that should think of living in a court, however it be, that we see animals of all forts, clean and unclean, enter into it. The ONE is, of thofe ftrong and active fpirits, that are formed for bufinefs, whofe ambition reconciles them to the bustle of life, and whofe capacity fits them for the discharge of its functions. Thefe, efpecially if of noble birth and good fortunes, are destined to fill the firft offices in a state; and if, peradventure, they add virtue to their other parts and qualities, are the bleffings of the age they live in. Some few fuch there have been in former times; and the prefent, it may be, is not wholly without them.

The OTHER fort are what one may properly enough call, if the phrafe were not fomewhat uncourtly, the MOB OF COURTS; they who have vanity or avarice without ambition, or ambition without talents. Thefe by affiduity, good luck,

and

and the help of their vices, (for they would fcorn to earn advancement, if it were to be had, by any worthy practices) may in time fucceed to the lower pofts in a government; and together make up that fhewy, fervile, felfifh crowd we dignify with the name of COURT. Now, though I think too juftly of myself to believe I am qualified to enter into the former of these lifts, you may conclude, if you please, that I am too proud to brigue for an admiffion into the latter. I pretend not to great abilities of any kind; but let me prefume a little in fuppofing, that I may have fome too good to be thrown away on fuch company.'

The third and fourth dialogues, on the golden age of Queen Elizabeth, are managed between the Honourable Robert Digby, Dr. Arbuthnot, and Mr. Addifon and are fuppofed to have been occafioned by a view of Kennelworth Caftle, in the year 1716. In thefe dialogues Mr. Addifon arraigns the manners and taste of thofe times, particularly the knight-errantry of thofe days, and likewife the political adminiftration during the Queen's reign; all which Dr. Arbuthnot ftrenuously defends: Mr. Digby, during the debate, ftanding neuter. The Writer has not been very fuccefsful in making Mr. Addifon fpeak in character. The ftile of his difcourfe is altogether declamatory, and diftinguished by an acrimony and afperity to which in his converfation he is known to have been a ftranger. The character of Elizabeth, however, as he is made to defcribe it, places the merit of that Queen in new points. of view, both with regard to her foreign and domeftic capacity. Such of our Readers who are not biaffed by their attachment to party principles, will not be offended at the following extract.

To fum it up in few words: thofe two great events of her time, THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, and THE TRIUMPH OVER THE POWER OF SPAIN, caft an ⚫ uncommon luftre on the reign of Elizabeth. Pofterity, dazzled with thefe obvious fucceffes, went into an excessive ⚫ admiration of her perfonal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more, is the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on the one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that on the firft glance her government appear able, and even glorious. Yet in looking into particulars, we find, that much is to be attributed to fortune, as well as fkill; and that her glory is even leffened by confiderations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it. The difficultics fhe had to encounter were great; yet these very difficulties of themfelves created the proper means to furmount them. They fhar

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pened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the affections of a whole people. The name of her great enemy ⚫ on the continent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in reality, much less than it appeared. The Spanish empire was corrupt and weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a fecret even to the Spaniard himself. In the mean time, the confidence which the opinion of great ftrength infpires, was a favourable circumftance. It occafioned a remiffnefs and neglect of counsel on one fide, in proportion as it raifed the utmoft vigilance and circumfpection on the other. But this was not all: the religious feuds in the Low Countries,-the civil wars in France-the diftractions of Scotland-all concurred to advance the fortunes of Elizabeth. Yet all had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crifis of her fate, and, as it fell out, of her glory, if the confpiring elements themselves had not fought for her,

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Such is the natural account of her foreign triumphs. Her • domeftic fucceffles admit as easy a folution. Those exter⚫nal dangers themfelves, the genius of the time, the state of religious parties, nay, the very factions of her court, all of them directly, or by the flighteft application of her policy, administered to her greatness. Such was the condition of the times, that it forced her to affume the femblance, at leaft, of fome popular virtues: and fo fingular her fortune, that her very vices became as refpectable, perhaps more ufeful to her reputation, than her virtues. She was vigilant in her counfels; careful in the choice of her fervants; courteous and condefcending to her fubjects. She appeared to ⚫ have an extreme tenderness for the interefts, and an extreme zeal for the honour of the nation. This was the bright fide of her character; and it fhone the brighter from the ⚫ conftant and imminent dangers to which he was exposed. On the other hand, fhe was choleric and imperious; jealous, timid, and avaricious; oppreffive, as far as she durft; in many cafes capricious, in fome tyrannical. Yet thefe vices, fome of them fharpened and refined her policy, and the reft operating chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents, ftrengthened her authority, and rooted her more firmly in the hearts of the people. The mingled fplendor of thefe qualities, good and bad (for even her worst had the luck, when feen but on one fide, or in well difpofed lights, to look like good ones) fo far dazzled the eyes of all, that they did not, or would not, feę many outrageous acts or tyranny and oppreffion,

And thus it hath come to pafs that, with fome ability, more cunning, and little real virtue, the name of Elizá

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