Now, to argue as perhaps the author would "have argued himself, I apprehend that loss of "blood can never mend a man's family; nay, should " he quite drain his veins and fill them again from "a descendant of Anchitel* or the Howards, he " would, nevertheless, be roturier for that new trans"fusion. Besides, if suffering for one's country "confers noblesse, drawing blood is by no means "the only way to it. A sailor who has been half "drowned in a sea-fight, a soldier who has been "lost and buried. [here the words are torn off]. . has an equal claim to it "with him who has been cut, and slashed; and may we not conceive a dry drubbing, and some hearty "bruises more grievous, and consequently meritorious, than a broken head, or a wipe across the fingers? Somewhat in this manner would Mr. de V. "reason, and would perhaps end thus: Blood, "when we talk of families, is quite another idea from "blood in or out of the veins."

"

"

This critique is not only judicious, and sound, though humourously expressed, but is much in the manner of Mr. de V.; and has the additional merit, therefore, of a happy imitation.

The rest of his commentary in praise of this admirable Play has a fund of good sense in it, though expressed with remarkable ease, and simplicity.

"I have gone through Merope, and must write you my thoughts of it while they are fresh.-It "has pleased me extremely.-I find that a tale in "itself interesting is more so for being simple. The "introduction of other persons, and of other adventures, only divides the concern, and the atten"tion. The only thing a well-chosen subject wants, " is the animating manner of relating it.— Merope "has all the requisites that I demand. We have

*This, I apprehend, alludes to the Marchioness Grey's ancestor; Auchitel, or Anchitel Grey.

"agreed

"agreed very often to abuse those pressentimens of personages who are to find each other out in the "sequel. Here is the situation of all others that gives "the best room for that licensed absurdity. But "how masterly is the address of the Poet, who makes "his Queen struck with some little resemblance of Ctesifonte. The last act moves me the least; હૃદ perhaps one foresees the catastrophe before that period of its dramatic effect arrives."

At a much later period, that of the Jubilee at Stratford, he descends to the effect of Garrick's Ode, as recited in Drury-lane theatre, and gives the fairest anatomy of it:

"I have heard the Shakespearian Ode. At first "I thought G. too emphatical; but it could scarce "be otherwise; for speaking to such an assembly is, "like a picture calculated for a distance. It must "be of necessity bigger than life. The comic mix"ture, both in subject and measure, had a good "effect, however un-odaic according to severe cri"tics. It relieved, and it entertained.-He acted "the lines upon Falstaff: this, we are told by them, was buffoonery; but he acted them with prodigious force. In the Jubilee, the procession of "Shakespeare's characters was an amusing spectacle; " and it gratified us not a little to see, in the mas"querade, those figures, of whom we had previously "heard, Boswell en Corse, and three witches, who "soon pulled off their masks, and were the prettiest "girls to be found."

In the same letter, though written when he was advanced in years, there is an amusing account of Paris, written with all the gaiety of youth.

"He tells me the French are much improved in "architecture. The new Church of St. Genevieve,

*There is a small whole-length Portrait of Mr. Boswell in the costume of a Corsican Chieftain, the character he personated on this occasion.

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"now building by Soufflot, is much admired by him, and he is pleased with the elliptical salle of "the Waux-hall (for so it is written.) It is whim"sical enough, that in this dancing Nation, as we "have called them, there is a set of people dressed "like gemmen and ladies hired to dance; the good, and fine company, who pay for coming-in, "never joining."

In that letter is one of a thousand proofs, that few men quoted Latin poetry better. His wonderful memory enabled him, and in a manner compelled him, to illustrate his thoughts by those versions of them into similar images familiar to the best writers of the Augustan age. He describes Baretti's acquittal in these words: "He was most grossly at"tacked, and he defended himself in his own man"ner. An Englishman would have used his fist, or "his cudgel; an Italian drew his knife,

"Dente lupus; cornu bos."

Of his admirable taste we have several marks: one happens to lie before me, and I pick it up.

"His critique upon the Statue is very just. Those "violent attitudes do not suit the dignified but "graceful simplicity of Sculpture. Those in the "modern art (and French the most) who have "aimed at the pittoresc, have not succeeded. Rou"billiac runs into this fault sometimes. The An"cients, Heaven bless them! had nothing of it."

In one of his earliest effusions to his friend, there is a very judicious hint at the partiality of that fascinating Historian Dr. Middleton (to whom he often alludes in the sequel) for his hero. Many other parts of this letter recommend it very much; and amongst them a polished, but zealous affection to his friend, which pervades the tenor of his correspondence with him. It contains a portrait of his manner in conversation, which presents him alive to me, compared recollection of it. Upon these accounts

with my

I shall

I shall copy from it more extracts than one. It is dated Queen's College, August 10, 1740.

«****Coventry is just upon the wing. He "is but just now returned from a hardy achieve"ment, that of conducting three ladies in sacks "through the curiosities of Norfolk."

"*** The usual company at the Coffee-house "received me with all accustomed honours; and I "fancied myself much in the situation of Cicero "returned from Brundusium, in the sixth vignette "of Dr. Middleton's work. B. in particular, like one of the Consuls in that print, stopped me a "full quarter of an hour whilst he pulled off his glove to give me his hand, its rival in dirt.

"But, amidst all these distinctions, I feel a mise❝rable gap in our meetings, for want of you. There "is nobody to keep my quick way of talking in "countenance. It is intolerable that Mr. Charles, "who has taken such very successful pains to be "like you, and make some amends for your loss, "runs away just now when it is fresh in our minds. "This week I have entertained myself with the preface, and the 12th Section of Cicero's Life. As "to most of the particulars upon which you complimented our friend, I think as you do. In some points I am not altogether so candid. There was "no occasion surely that his passion for the Father "should make him draw so flattering a portrait of "the Son. This is, Love me love my dog, with a "witness."

c

The varieties of style and subject in these Letters appear to me very captivating,

One of them is before me, as light, easy, and familiar, but as graceful too, as the most accomplished man in the world could have made it. The local date of it makes it interest me

* This travelling costume of the ladies makes one smile. + Mr. Charles Yorke, then 17 years of age.

"Knoll

"Knoll Hills, Sept. 10, 1741.

[This was a most enchanting spot, which my Father had recently purchased. The dates, of time, and place, mark the intimacy of their friendship at this early period.]

"DEAR SIR,

"No way of life is so absolutely idle as that which "I have experienced this last fortnight.

"When a number of people are in a house toge"ther, no man's time is his own. He must give it "all to the publick, which publick is the more arbi"trary in proportion when composed of ladies. Can "one refuse to ride with them, if it is a fine morn"ing? The genial spirit of dinner extends to that "of tea-a sacred hour, never to be waved! A "loitering walk in summer follows of course; and "at night how savage to leave one's niche in the con"versation before supper, or to make three Chris"tians unhappy for want of a fourth, at whist!

"This our system, thus uniform, and confined, "pleases me, in part, from its opposition to that "hurry, and change of companions which you often lay to my charge,

Besides, our men are of my own sort-Antiquaries, Critics, and, upon occasion, Poets. And 66 our women are so accustomed by their fates to "such men, that we can even quote Latin with "impunity; and the cards are often adjourned, that "we may settle a passage in Virgil, or in Tully. "Three most rainy days have indeed rather dis"tressed us, and our conversation was upon the "tilt: we gaped, rubbed our hands, hummed, and "pumped our fancies; but at last we discovered the remedy, and relief. It was to part a little: so we "took French leave, and went off to our own cham"bers; and I have this command of mine for a "Letter to you, not that I have any thing to write. "Politics are quite stale before they come hither.

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"We