SEMPER REFULGET. No. 54. Boston, Saturday, May 9, 1807. ORIGINAL PAPERS, FOR THE EMERALD. THE WANDERER, No. 78. Do'st thou well to be angry ? men on an embassy or other public situation, because while I kept myself perfectly calm I would fret him into a passion and during the intoxication of anger he would betray to me his secret instructions or the direct objects of his mission. But although philosophy may lead us to very pleasant speculations on the weakness and the folly of an THIS interrogation to the prophet may be applied with no little pertinence to almost every individ-ger, yet it is nevertheless a passion ual at certain moments of his life. Do'st thou well to be angry? Have you so little firmness as to permit the petty vexations of life to throw your mind from its balance; so little fortitude as not to be able to bear what it is impossible to avoid, and submit in silence when complaint rather aggravates than lessens the subject of your affiction? implanted for wise purposes in our nature and all our resolutions to prevent it will be overthrown by the first instance of unprovoked assault or attempt at personal insult.That will then be the best effort, which strives rather to direct than destroy, and is contented with diminishing what it is impossible to annihilate. There is a display of spirit necesDo'st thou well to be angry, when anger is one of the most painful passary for the support of character. sions of the soul? Is it judicious to yield to the domination of a power which rules with arbitrary sway and keeps the mind in a tumult like the sea in a storm; which never answers the end that it aims at and passing away leaves its subject in the same difficulty and under the same misfortunes as when it first began? He who once stoops, will soon be called upon to kneel, and the encroachments of his neighbors will presently take from him the proposed advantages of this humble situation. The tameness which has once submitted to aggression invites future insult, and the quiet subject is soon considered as a fair object on which every bully may exercise his courage and ferocity. Do'st thou well to be angry, when anger commonly places you in the The anger therefore which is first most foolish situation imaginable? It affords merriment to the unconcern-displayed in a spirit to defend aed spectator and makes those despise gainst aggression, and appears in who would otherwise only pity you. moderate resentment against an inI should like, said my Lord Ches-jury, is such a discovery of the pasterfield, to meet one of your choleric, sion as may answer affirmatively to VOL. II. T the question, Dost thou well to be angry? require its exercise, yet like others to which our nature is subject, it is regulated by care, and disciplined by art. In the business of life it is often convenient to conceal the feel they suffer, and he who has frequent occasion to mix with the multitude for the purpose of observation, must first acquire an ascendancy over his own temper, and prevent the ebul litions of anger and the paroxysms of rage. As no passion is so distinctly marked on the features, and none with so much difficulty concealed when it is felt, it becomes necessary not merely to dissemble, but in reality to diminish its power, and thus in a singular degree the purposes of busy life conspire with the precepts of morality to check the passions and counterpoise their power. The emotion is a guard against insult and a protection from indignity, and properly displayed gives no room for censure or ridi-ings and repress the irritation which cule. It ought however to be the inspiration of the moment, not the odium in longa jacens of Tiberius, which is nourished in the breast to a deep and spiteful malignity. "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath," is an admonition of an inspired writer, and should be taken as a motto by every choleric man. There is more danger however by its sudden appearance than by its continuing for any unreasonable time. Any man may be surprised into error, but the vicious only will remain there, when the error is discovered. A particular liability to the influence of anger makes a man an unpleasant companion, and a very dan gerous friend. It is necessary at all times to be upon guard lest familiarity should be taken for provocation, and humour for insult; and as the passion approaches to delirium in proportion to its violence, there is no determining what wounds it will inflict, or what injury it will occasion. The secrets of friendship, the interests that were communicated in a moment of confidence, are disclosed in the impetuous torrent which rolls from the tongue of the provoked and angry friend; those ties, dear as ture, which were drawn round the heart in the season of intimacy, are forgotten, and the most outrageous maniac is not more wild and unrea sonable than that vindictive disposition which unwittingly tramples on every right of friendship in the gratification of its prevalent passion. Notwithstanding the universality of this passion, and its almost instinctive display on occasions that na This combat however, between policy and passion, unless it be submitted to the arbitration of morality, produces a character the most odious in the circle of depravi ty. Feeling the full force of a viclent and vindictive passion, but afraid to throw it off in the rash and hasty display of itself which marks the impetuous conduct of a generous anger, he allows it to stagnate in his own breast till it acquires a more malignant and corrosive, tho' in appearance a less dangerous nature; and as it must have vent, finally comes] forth in treachery, robbery and assassination. of human character justly enu- reputation, nurtured them in secret, minister. In the fifth year of his and made the darkness and solitude acquainted with his terrible crimes. If such be the tendency of the passion of anger; if displayed in its own form it subjects one to ridicule and contempt, or alienates the affections of friendship and puts its subject to a distance in society; or if concealed and harbored in the breast it eventually produces the worst of crimes, its first approaches should be watched with caution, and the question be seriously put to himself by the angry man in a moment of reason and reflection, Do'st thou well to be angry? L. SELECTED FOR THE EMERALD. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MR. MONTGOMERY. age his parents removed with him to Grace-hill, in the county of Antrim, Ireland. In the following year he was separated from them for ever, and placed in the seminary of the United Moravian Brethren, at Fulneck, near Leeds, in Yorkshire. His parents were, afterwards, sent as missionaries to the West Indies, to preach to the poor negro slave, the consoling doctrine of another and a better world; "where the wretched hear not the voice of the oppressor," and where "the servant is free from his master :" in this service both died. In the Fulneck academy, amongst a people remarkable for their ardour in religion, and their industry in the pursuit of useful learning, James Montgomery received his education. He was intended for the ministry, and his preceptors were every way competent to the task of pre[The poetry of James Montgomery has pating him for the important office, been recently introduced to the pub-for which he was designed. His lie, and has created a desire to be-studies were various: the French, ebme acquainted with the writer, German, Lath, and Greek lanFrom the following sketch it will be guages history, geography, and found that like most other admirers music; but a desire to distinguish of the Muse he has been familiar with himself as a poct, aniongst his poverty and surrounded by misfor-schoolfellows, soon interferred with tufres. Without experience of the his more beneficial pursuits. When world and with no other knowledge of only ten years old, he began the its manners than through the medium unprofitable employment of writing of books, his introduction was em-verses, which was continued with barrassing and his progress unfa- unabating ardour, till the period vourable, but his genius has shone when he quitted Fulneck, in 1787: through the clouds of misfortune and they were chiefly on religious subpreserved his reputation although it jects. This early devotion to poetry he has ever regarded as the was unable to confer upon him wealth. source of many troubles. It was this unpropitious attachment which, at school, stood in the way of his improvement; this, which finally altered his destination in life, and seduced him to exchange an almost monastic seclusion from society, for the "hurry and bustle of a world, Ers.] JAMES MONTGOMERY, the author of the Wanderer of Switzerland, &c. and the subject of this short biographical sketch, was born in Scotland, at Irvine, in Ayrshire, November 4, 1771: his father was a Moravian which, hitherto, has but ill repaid him for the sacrifice. tablishment more congenial to his No When removed from Fulneck, the views of his friends were so far changed, that we find him placed by them in a retail shop at Mirfield, near Wakefield. Here, though he was treated with great kindness, and had only too little business, and too much leisure to attend to his favourite employment, he became exceedingly disconsolate, and after remaining in his new situation about one year and a half, he privately absconded, and with less than five shillings in his pocket, and the wide world before him, he began his career in pursuit of fame and fortune. His ignorance of mankind, the result of his retired and religious education; the consequent simplicity of his manners, and his forlorn appearance, exposed him to the contempt of some, and to the compassion of others, to whom he ap-membrance of him who can forget plied. The brillant bubble of pat- an injury, but not a kindness. ronage, wealth and celebrity, which father could have evinced a greater floated before his imagination, soon affection for a darling son: the tears burst, and on the fifth day of his he shed were honourable to his feeltravels he found a situation, similar ings, and were the best testimony to to the one he had left, at the village the conduct and integrity of James of Wath near Rotherham. A re- Montgomery. sidence in London was the object From Wath he removed to Lonof his ambition; but wanting the don, having prepared his way by means to carry him thither, he re-sending a volume of his manuscript solved to remain in the country till poems to Mr. Harrison, then a book. he could procure them according- seller in Paternoster-row. ly he wrote to his friends amongst Harrison, who was a man of correct the Moravian brethren, whom he taste and liberal disposition, received had forsaken, requesting them to him into his house, and gave him the recommend him to his new msster, greatest encouragement to cultivate conscious they had nothing to al- his talents, but none to publish his ledge against him, excepting the poems; seeing, as he observed, no imprudent step of separating him- probability that the author would a self from them; and not being un- quire either fame or fortune by ap der articles of apprenticeship'at Mir-pearing at that time before the pubfield, he besought them not to com- lic. The remark was just; but : pel him to return. He received conveyed the most unexpected anu from them the most generous pro-afflicting information to our youthpositions of forgiveness, and an es- ful poet, who yet knew little of the Mr. world except from books, and who had permitted his imagination to be ON ERROR. dazzled with the accounts which he (Translated for the Emerald from the had read of the splendid success, and munificent patronage, which poets had formerly experienced. He was so disheartened by this circumstance, that on occasion of a misunderstanding with Mr. Harrison, he, at the end of eight months, quitted the metropolis and returned to Wath, where he was received with a hearty welcome by his former employer. While in London, having been advised to turn his attention to prose, as more profitable than verse, he composed an eastern story, which he took one evening to a publisher in the east end of the town. Being directed through the shop, to the private room of the great man, he presented his mamiscript in form. The prudent book seller read the title, marked the number of pages, counted the lines in a page, and made a calculation of the whole; then turning to the author, who stood in astonishment at this summary mode of deciding on the merit of a work of imagination, he very civilly returned the copy saying, "Sir, your manuscript is too small-it won't do for me-take it to K—, he publishes these kind of things." Montgomery retreated with so much confusion from the presence of the bookseller, that, in passing through the shop, he dashed his unfortunate head against a patent lamp, broke the glass, spilled the oil, and making an awkward apology to the shopmen, who were tittering behind the counter, to the no small mortification of the poor author, he rushed into the street, equally unable to restrain his vexa tion or his laughter, and retired to his home, filled with chagrin and disappointment at this ludicrous and untoward misadventure. To be concluded next week. French.) [The French delight in paradox. Ros. seau maintained that ignorance was better than knowledge, and Boufflers with equal skill has demonstrated that Error is superior to truth. There is a display of genius in this exercise. which delights by its novelty and corrects by its satire....... Em. Éď'rs.] You ask if usefulness can be derived from error : can truth confer it ?....The one lisps the accents of gaiety, the other only the sounds of sadness. Are we happy; error assures us we shall remain so, but truth proves to us that happiness must have an end; are we unhappy ; truth convinces us it is from our own folly, and our misery must continue; error on the contrary persuades us it is unjust and fleeting. Of two mirrors, one reflecting you adorned by the graces, the other exhibiting you covered with defects-which will you choose? Truth which is constantly the same must be a stranger to man who is continually changing. Error on the contrary is infinitely versatile, and accommodates herself better to our variable nature. Observe too, that she always has something in conformity to our wishes; for our judgments are especially misled by our passions and all our errors end in compliance with our inclinations. The ambitious hope what they desire; the miser enjoys what he denies himself; the lover dreams he is beloved; each deceives himself as fancy dictates. Why should we not deceive ourselves? every thing conduces to it: error is in us and around us; our perceptions are false, our judg ments are precipitate, and our acquired knowledge the result of illa |