neation. He characterizes the manners of different ages no less scientifically than a Hunter would describe an anatomical subject, or a Linnæus a plant. The fine pictures of the manners of young and old men in the second book are such as Horace has imitated, but not equaled; such as might have richly fertilized the imagination of a Shakspeare. The

celebrated speech of Jacques is not equal to the accurate and complete descriptions of the manners of different ages in the life of man by the neglected Aristotle.

The close yet comprehensive language of Aristotle will scarcely admit of a literal translation. I shall not then attempt to deliver his sentiments in English, since I should not satisfy myself; but I will refer the young student to the admirable original, where, in the fourteenth and a few subsequent chapters of the second book, he will be able to acquire a very accurate knowledge of human nature.

I have selected these passages as a specimen of Aristotle, with an intention to obviate the prepossessions of those who imagine that every part of his works is abstruse and difficult of comprehension. A good translation would be the best commentary that could be given of them: but he who was the best qualified to perform it in perfection is now no more. It is, indeed, much to be lamented, that the great philosopher of Salisbury did not condescend to enrich his country with a translation of the best among the works of his admired Stagirite. Mr. Harris's style is, indeed, for the most part, the style of Plato; but we may conclude from the many passages from Aristotle, which he has most accurately translated in his notes, that he would have rendered whole treatises in English to the greatest advantage. He has, however, caused the want of a translation of Aristotle to be less felt, by supplying such originals himself as certainly vie with his Grecian master.

I cannot help remarking, that though this is an age in which many ingenious authors delight in metaphysical researches, yet few attend to the writings of Aristotle. Indeed, many of the French philosophers, who have done all they can to obscure the light of nature, common sense, and revelation, by the clouds of metaphysics, have not been sufficiently acquainted with Greek, or with ancient learning, to be able to improve themselves by the fine philosophy of the polished ages of Greece and Rome. Like spiders in a dark and dirty corner, they have drawn flimsy cobwebs from themselves, with which they cruelly endeavour to ensnare the giddy and unwary.

It is indeed my misfortune, if it be a misfortune, to have no great idea of the utility of metaphysical disquisition. And though Aristotle's logic and metaphysics principally contributed, in the middle ages, to render him the idol of the world, I cannot help considering them as the least useful parts of his various lucubrations. They are, indeed, valuable curiosities, and illustrious monuments of human ingenuity but at the same time, when compared to his rhetorical, ethical, and political books, they are as the husk and the shell to the pulp and the kernel. It was these, however, together with his erroneous physics, which induced the bigoted theologists to number Aristotle among the saints in the calendar, and to publish a history of his life and death; which concluded with asserting that Aristotle was the forerunner of Christ in philosophy, as John the Baptist had been in grace. Images of him and of the founder of Christianity were beheld at one time with equal veneration. It is said that some sects taught their disciples the categories instead of the catechism, and read in the church a section of the ethics instead of a chapter in the Gospel.

If the exclamation which he is related to have made VOL. III.

at his death be true, he appears to have possessed very rational ideas on the subject of religion.

A Christian might have said, as it is reported he said just before his dissolution, "In sin and shame was I born, in sorrow have I lived, in trouble I depart; O! thou Cause of causes, have mercy upon me!" I found this anecdote of Aristotle in the Centuries of Camerarius, but I am not certain of its authenticity.

The style of Aristotle has been censured as harsh and inelegant; but it must be remembered, that few works, of which so much remains, are supposed to have suffered more from the carelessness or presumption of transcribers, and the injuries of long duration, than the works of the great legislator of taste and philosophy. We may fairly attribute any chasms and roughnesses in the style to some rude hand, or to accident. It is not credible that so accurate a writer should have neglected those graces of style which the nature of his subjects admitted. The style of his best works is truly pure and attic; and Quintilian, whose judgment ought to decide, expresses a doubt whether he should pronounce him more illustrious for his knowledge, his copiousness, his acumen, his variety, or the sweetness of his elocution.

No. CXLIX.

On the Beauty and Happiness of an open Behaviour and an ingenuous Disposition.

A GREAT part of mankind, if they cannot furnish themselves with the courage and generosity of the lion, think themselves equally happy, and much

wiser, with the pitiful cunning of the fox. Every word they speak, however trivial the subject, is weighed before it is uttered. A disgustful silence is observed till somebody of authority has advanced an opinion, and then, with a civil leer, a doubtful and hesitating assent is given, such as may not preclude the opportunity of a subsequent retraction. If the conversation turn only on the common topics of the weather, the news, the play, the opera, they are no less reserved in uttering their opinion than if their lives and fortunes depended on the sentiment they should at last venture, with oracular dignity, to advance. Whatever may be their real idea on the subject, as truth is a trifle compared to the object of pleasing those with whom they converse, they generally contrive gently to agree with you; unless it should appear to them, on mature consideration, that their opinion (if contingencies to the number of at least ten thousand should take place) may, at the distance of half a century, involve them in some small danger of giving a little offence, or of incurring a trifling embarrassment. They wear a constant smile on their countenance, and are all goodness and benevolence, if you will believe their professions: but beware; for their hearts are as dark as the abysses which constitute the abodes of the evil spirit. A man of this character niger est, as Horace says; and thou, who justly claimest the title of an honest Englishman, be upon thy guard when thine ill fortune introduces thee into his company.

These crafty animals are even more reserved, cautious, timid, and serpentine, in action than in conversation. They lay the deepest schemes, and no conclave of cardinals, no combination of conspirators, no confederacy of thieves, ever deliberated with more impenetrable secrecy. Connexions are sought with the most painful solicitude. No arts and no assiduities are neglected to obtain the favour

of the great. Their hearts pant with the utmost anxiety to be introduced to a family of distinction and opulence, not only because the connexion gratifies their pride, but also because, in the wonderful complications and vicissitudes of human affairs, it may one day promote their interest. Alas! before that day arrives, their perpetual uneasiness has usually put a period to their ambition, by terminating their existence. But even if they gain their ends after a youth and a manhood consumed in constant care and servitude, yet the pleasure is not adequate to the pain, nor the advantage to the labour. Every one is ready to complain of the shortness of life; to spend, therefore, the greatest part of it in perpetual fear, caution, suspense, and solicitude, merely to accomplish an object of worldly ambition or avarice; what is it but the proverbial folly of him who loses a pound to save a penny? Give me, O ye powers! an ingenuous man would exclaim, give me health and liberty, with a competence, and I will compassionate the man of a timid and servile soul, who has at last crept on hands and knees, through thick and thin, into a stall, and seated his limbs, after they had been palsied with care, on the bench of judges or of bishops.

Indeed, the perpetual agitation of spirits, the tormenting fears, and the ardent hopes, which alternately disorder the bosom of the subtle and suspicious worlding, are more than a counterbalance to all the riches and titular honours which successful cunning can obtain. What avail croziers, coronets, fortunes, mansion houses, parks, and equipages, when the poor possessor of them has worn out his sensibility, ruined his nerves, lost his eyes, and perhaps strained his honour, and wounded his conscience, in the toilsome drudgery of the most abject servitude, from his youth up even to the hoary age of feebleness and decrepitude? When a man has a numerous offspring,