THE LIBRARY 
 
 -*-'-- . 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND 


 
 *** ft******ftft*ftft*******ft* 
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 O N 
 
 EDUCATION.
 
 s
 
 H O U G H T S 
 
 ON 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 By the late BISHOP B U R N E T. 
 
 Now firft printed from an original Manufcript. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for D. WILSON, at Plato's Head, 
 in the Strand. M 3 DCC,LXI.
 
 7.
 
 STACK 
 THE _ 
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 THE late Bifliop Burnet's 
 abilities, as a writer, are 
 fo univerfally ackowledged, by 
 the beft judges, that I flatter 
 myfelf, the fugitive little piece, 
 which I here offer to the pub- 
 lic, will be received with plea- 
 fure. 
 
 Of its authenticity there can 
 
 be no doubt, feeing the manu- 
 
 fcript is entirely and evidently 
 
 the Bifhop's own hand writing; 
 
 A 4 as 

 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 as appears by comparing it with 
 a receipt granted by him for a 
 year's ftipend, in 1665, when 
 he was minifter of Saltoun ; in 
 the body of which receipt he 
 declares the fame to be written 
 with his hand : and in verifica- 
 tion of this voucher, nothing 
 more need be faid, than that it 
 was furnifhed by the Right 
 Honourable the Lord Milton, 
 one of the Senators of the Col- 
 lege of Juflice, keeper of his 
 Majefty's Signet in Scotland, 
 and the representative of the 
 great Andrew Fletcher Efq; of 
 -Sakoun. 
 
 The
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 The original MS. together 
 with this proof of its being thp 
 genuine work of Bifhop Burnet, 
 was put into the publiflier's 
 hands, (where any perfon of cu- 
 riofity may have the fatisfaclion 
 of feeing and comparing them) 
 by Sir Alexander Dick of Pref- 
 tonfield, Baronet ; who found 
 the MS. among the papers qf 
 his grand father, Sir John Cun- 
 inghame of Caprington, Baronet, 
 a very learned man and eminent 
 Scotch lawyer in the reign of 
 King Charles II. 
 
 Of this Sir John Cunninghame, 
 the Bifhop gives an excellent 
 
 cha-
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 character, in the hiftory of his 
 own times, Vol. I. p. 238. * 
 
 folio, 
 
 * The perfon, whom I believed the beft 
 as to all fuch things, was one Sir John 
 Cunningham, an eminent lawyer, who 
 had an eftate in the country, and was the 
 moft extraordinary man of his profeflion 
 in that kingdom. He was epifcopal be- 
 yond moft men in Scotland, who for the 
 far greateft part thought that forms of go- 
 vernment were in their own nature indif- 
 ferent, and might be either good or bad 
 according to the hands in which they fell ; 
 whereas he thought epifcopacy was of a 
 divine right, fettled by Chrift. He was 
 not only very learned in the civil and canon 
 law, and in the philofophical learning, but 
 was very univerfal in all other learning : 
 he was a great divine and well read in the 
 Fathers, and in ecclefiaftical hiftory. He 
 was above all, a man of eminent probity, 
 
 and
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 folio, and feems to value him- 
 felf on the perfonal friendship 
 and intimacy with which he was 
 honoured by him. This cir- 
 cumftance, added to that of the 
 MS. being found among that 
 gentleman's papers, would na- 
 turally lead one to think that it 
 was addrefled to him ; were it 
 not that our author gives hirri 
 to whom he writes the title of a 
 
 Lord : whereas it does not ap- 
 
 * 
 
 pear that Sir John was ever.raif- 
 r j 
 
 ed to the dignity of LorH Advo- 
 cate, or of a Lord of Seffion. 
 
 and of a fweet temper, and indeed one of 
 the pioufeft men of the nation. 
 
 How-
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 However, it is plain from the 
 contents, that this EfTay was 
 written at the derire, and for 
 the ufe, of fome very confider- 
 able perfonage, about the latter 
 end of the year 1668, when 
 the Author, as he tells us, was 
 not quite 25 years of age; hav- 
 ing been born, as appears from 
 his life, at Edinburgh, in 1643. 
 
 The fubjeft of this little trea- 
 tife is, moft certainly, of a very 
 interefting nature, not only to 
 parents and fuch others as are 
 more immediately and diredlly 
 concerned in the right educa- 
 tion of youth, but to: the whole 
 
 com- 
 
 V 
 
 -
 
 PREFACE. m 
 
 community in general: and in 
 both thefe views our Author 
 feems to have attentively and 
 honeftly confidered it, never 
 lofing fight of his Pupils, even 
 from the lifping ftate of infancy, 
 up to that of ripe manhood. 
 
 The counfels he gives, and 
 the regulations he propofes, to- 
 gether with his reafbns for them, 
 feem well to deferve the ferious 
 and mature confideration of eve- 
 ry parent, guardian, governor, 
 and preceptor of youth: for 
 though every one of thefe will 
 not, probably, think fit to adopt 
 all his fentirnents, in every cir- 
 
 cum-
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 cumftance; yet thofe who do 
 not think with him, may per- 
 haps learn from him to think 
 for themfelves. 
 
 As to the language, the read- 
 er will not expect the Englifh to 
 be fo correct, fo pure, or fo ele- 
 gant as that of the Bifhop's later 
 works, when he confiders that 
 this Eflay was written near an 
 hundred years ago, in Scotland, 
 and to a friend, without the 
 leaft fufpicion that it would ever 
 be published. It would indeed 
 have been eaiy to give it a more 
 fafhionable drefs, by proper cor- 
 rections of the fpelling, the ex- 
 6 pref-
 
 PREFACE, xiii 
 
 preffion, and indeed of the gram- 
 matical conftrudion, about 
 which the Scotch, not much 
 ufed to write in thofe days, were 
 but too carelefs : but the editor, 
 thinking it would be more fatif- 
 faclory to the curious, to fee 
 how fuch an author as Bimop 
 Burnet wrote fo long ago as 
 1668, hath here faithfully and 
 literally copied the original ma- 
 nufcript. In fhort, he conceiv- 
 ed that he could not adl: other- 
 wife, without taking an unjufti- 
 fiable liberty with his author, and 
 with the publick. 
 
 THOUGHTS
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 O N 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 THERE is nothing the law of 
 nature doth more oblige men to t 
 than carefully to educate and cultivate 
 their children, this being the trueft ex- 
 preffion of a father's love. And there- 
 fore the philofopher Crates often faid 
 that he would goe to the moft remark- 
 able place of the city and call aloud, O 
 Fathers, what doe you ? fo carefully to 
 gather fortunes to your children, and 
 fo little to coniider what they are, to 
 whom you. leave them. And upon 
 good ground did the wife Theban, 
 B being
 
 being aflted in the fchool at Athens,, 
 what were the caufes of the ruine of 
 a ftate, reckon one of the chiefe, to be 
 the neglect of the education of the youth. 
 For fince there is in man a natural by- 
 as and propenfity to corruption, it is 
 not to be doubted, but ill difciplined 
 children will prove, for moft part, dif- 
 folute and profligate men. The obliqui- 
 ty of trees is eafily corrected, if obfer- 
 ved while they are young and fmall ', 
 but after many years growth, neither 
 by force nor induftry, can that which 
 is crooked be made flraight j and of this 
 Lycurgus convinced the Spartans, by 
 the whelps both procreated and whelp- 
 ed at once, but by the diverlity of their 
 breeding, the one was excellent, "for 
 hunting, and the other fit for nothing 
 but to lick dimes, and lay by a fire. 
 Of fuch importance did the Romans 
 judge the education of their youth, that 
 
 there
 
 [ 3 ] 
 
 there was one incharged with the in- 
 (pection of it j and this office was judg- 
 ed a high truft and a great honour, and 
 was a ftep to the cenforial, if not to the 
 confular dignity. 
 
 But belides the bonds of nature and 
 of fociety, we chriftians are under a 
 clofer tye, fince to fathers the care of 
 children is fo often injoined in holy 
 Scriptures ; as likewife fathers become 
 fponfors for their children in baptifme; 
 and therefore, by that furetyfhip, are 
 engaged to the utmoft care and dili- 
 gence in feeing to their chriftian, virtu- 
 ous, and rational education. 
 
 But all this, I know, is needlefs to 
 your lordfhip, whofe chiefe care and fo- 
 licitude about your children is, that they 
 be good chriftians and wife countrymen, 
 and in whom I have obferved no more 
 B 2 pal-
 
 [ 43 
 
 paffionate defire of any thing than of 
 difcreet governours, and wholefome 
 rules for improving and polifhing the 
 minds of your children : and as this ge- 
 nerous care is indeed fingular in you, 
 fo your humility is to be reckoned a- 
 mong thofe virtues which mine with 
 the brighteft luftre, appearing in this, 
 that notwithftanding of your own great 
 reach in all things, you are yet fo dif- 
 truftful of your own meafures in fuch 
 an important affair, as to aik my poor 
 thoughts about it. 
 
 My Lord, my pride were as bafe as 
 your virtue is noble, if I judged myfelf 
 capable of advifing, much lefle directing 
 you herein : yet fo clofely is my foul 
 linked to all your concerns, by the 
 flraiteil bond of a clofe and entire friend- 
 /hip, and fo ardently do I defire the 
 welfare of your family and hopeful 
 
 chil-
 
 [ 5 ] 
 
 children, that I {hall give you a full and 
 copious account of my thoughts on this 
 matter, which though they be no 
 other way ufeful to you, yet (hall at 
 Icaft tell you how often and ferioufly I 
 think on you and yours, even when I 
 fee you not, and how I value not my 
 time nor pains, when any thing that 
 may be the fubjec~l of advantage, plea- 
 fure, or divertifement to you call for 
 them. 1 mould alfo preface of my own 
 unfitnefs for this tafk from my fewyeares, 
 and the fmall experience I have had in 
 this affair; but 1 mall frankly, and with- 
 out further formality, give you my beft 
 and matured thoughts ; wherein if I 
 come fhort of your expectation, it is be- 
 caufe your opinion of me exceeds my 
 merit. I therefore fubjecT: all to your 
 cenfure, defiring that you will for- 
 give the unpolimed rudenefs of llyle in 
 me, who by a long and dayly converfe 
 B 3 with
 
 [ 6] 
 
 with Clownes am become more than 
 halfe a Bour mvfelfe. 
 
 w 
 
 Thefirft ftep of our Thoughts, in re- 
 ference to children, mould be a wife and 
 difcreet choice of her who (hall be their 
 mother ; for as graffes bear fruit of the 
 kind of the flock whence they are cropt, 
 fo often doe children receive deep and 
 lafting imprefllons of their mother'stem- 
 per; and for this caufedidthe Lacedemo- 
 nians threaten their King, when he was 
 about to marry a dwarfe, alledging that 
 fhe would bring forth not Kings but 
 Kinglings. And alfo parents (hould a- 
 void all wafting intemperance, and ex- 
 cefse ; for fince the minds of children 
 are moulded into the temper of that 
 cafe and body wherein they are thruft, 
 and the healthfulnefs and ftrength of 
 their bodies is fuitable to the fource 
 and fountain whence they fprung, 
 
 it
 
 [7] 
 
 it clearly appears -that perfons wafted 
 by drunkennefs or venery muft procre- 
 ate unhealthful, crazy, and often mean- 
 fpirited children ; though there being fo 
 many things joyning in this compound 
 of a man, none of thefe probabilities muft 
 paffe for aflertions or conclufions. 
 
 A child being born, the firft care 
 is its nurfmg ; and indeed it is an af- 
 fectionate and Chriftian piece of the 
 mother's care, recommended by the 
 holy women in Scripture, and the 
 more virtuous in all ages, to nurfe her 
 own children, if her nourifhment be 
 abundant and good, and if her health 
 and ftrength will permit ; and to de- 
 cline it upon any other account be- 
 wraies either immodefty, or, a lazy 
 inexcuiable foftnefs. That the child 
 fucks in with the milk many fpirits, 
 and by confequence much of the nurfe's 
 B 4 tern-
 
 [ 8] 
 
 temper, is apparent. She fhould be 
 therefore well chofen, and particularly 
 me mould be free of thofe vices that 
 infect the body ; fuch as uncleannefs, 
 boldnefs, or love of drink. 
 
 All a child can be then taught is 
 cleanlinefs ; upon which what a value 
 the ancients fet, appears from that a 
 philofopher, among the moral precepts 
 he gives a child, reckons this, to keep 
 his hands always clean ; and betides 
 the fuitablenefs the purity of the mind 
 hath to the cleanlinefs of the body, a 
 habitual love of cleannefs may prove a 
 good curb to preferve children from 
 many nafty tricks. 
 
 The next choice mould be of the 
 women that mail keep them after they 
 are weaned, that they be difcreet and mo- 
 deft; for many bafe fluts learne children 
 
 very
 
 [9] 
 
 very early obfcene talk and impure ac- 
 tions. 
 
 How foon as a child can diftinctly 
 pronounce every word, and underftands 
 all that is fpoken, he mould be taught 
 to read, which is ufually when they are 
 four years old or five. Then fhould 
 
 * 
 
 fome of the feeds of religion be dropt in- 
 to them, that there is a God, a Heaven, 
 and Hell {hould be often told them, but 
 chiefly the laft, which they can befl 
 underftand : only the terrifying them 
 with frightful ftories or vifars is a 
 mighty errourj for befide the prefent 
 prejudice it may occafion by tlieir fud- 
 den ftartling and difcompofure, it may 
 nourifh and breed in them a bog- 
 ling humour, which may flick to 
 them and trouble them at a riper age. 
 
 They fliould be alfo taught fome ve- 
 ry fhort forms of Prayers, the Lord's 
 
 Prayer,
 
 [JO] 
 
 Prayer, the Doxology, or the like, and 
 be made fay them, not in their beds, 
 but on their knees, morning and even- 
 ing ; fo that there may grow in them 
 with their years a reverence to God. 
 
 For their manners, fo green an age 
 is capable of few precepts, habitual lying 
 ihould be well guarded againft ; for this 
 bafe cuftom being once acquired in 
 youth will not eafily be driven away. 
 The chief occaiions of it in them are 
 fear and malice. Severe parents or 
 matters, by their rigorous puniming the 
 faults of little ones, teach them this 
 fiavifh and hateful fin. The beft 
 ward againft this hazard is to promife a 
 child a ready pardon for the greateft 
 fault if they candidly confefs it : and 
 indeed to teach an habitual ingenuity 
 may well deferve a connivance at great 
 efcapes. A humour alfo of telling ill 
 
 ef
 
 of thofe whom they emulate doth alfo 
 feed this cuftom of lying j which is 
 the more to be guarded againft, becaufc 
 it is coupled to another evil almoft as 
 bad, detraction and envy. This fault 
 will alfo be beft corrected by a conftant 
 pardoning the child accufed, and a 
 tranflating the punimment due to the 
 fault upon the tatler. 
 
 Swearing, Obfcenity, and terms of 
 Scolding are alfo to be looked to in Chil- 
 dren ; but a difcreet choice in their 
 fervants and play-fellows is the fureft 
 prefervative againft thefe vices. 
 
 As for their Reading we have two 
 errours in our common courfe: the one 
 is to begin them with a fcurvy black 
 letter, and with a Catechifm full 
 of long and harfh words, unintelligible 
 
 to
 
 [12] 
 
 to children. Now fincc it is an uni- 
 verfal rule to begin with what is eafieft, 
 this way is not to be ufed. A book of 
 a white and fair letter mould be firft put 
 in their hands: as alfo they mould begin 
 with the Pfalms, where the frequent 
 repetition of the fame words together 
 \vith the plainnefs of the ftyle, will 
 make their labour eafier. In their 
 reading, they fhould be taught to pro- 
 nounce fully and plainly, without peep- 
 ing, tone, or chirping ; and therefore 
 I like not their reading firft the Pfalms 
 in metre, where the cadence of the 
 line learnes them a tone ; but the 
 chief care in reading mould be to fee 
 that they fyllable well, and be exact to 
 do it without book. The officious 
 hafte of fome mafters, to drive chil- 
 dren fail through books lofeth them in 
 this. 
 
 As
 
 As their memory and capacity grow- 
 eth, they fhould be made to get fhort 
 and felect fentences of Scripture by 
 heart, for if a child at fix or feven 
 years be made every day to remember 
 one verfe, and to repeat them always 
 on the Saturday or Lords Day, he mall 
 know much Scripture, ere he arrive at 
 a ripe age. And this Rule deferves 
 the rather to be followed, becaufe the 
 impreiTions that are made in that age 
 are well rooted and long-lived. 
 
 As for punifhing children on this iide 
 of feven or eight years old it muft be 
 managed with difcretion. Ail the hu- 
 mours, follies, wildnefs, andindifcretions 
 of children, except thofe I have above 
 marked, mould be paffed over in laugh- 
 ter : for to expect or force other things 
 from children is to contradict nature, 
 which made children children and not 
 men. Remif-
 
 [ H] 
 
 Remifnefs in ftudy (hould alfo be lit- 
 tle confidered : two hours a day till 
 they be fix, and three or four till they 
 be feven or eight is penance enough 
 for young children. 
 
 If a child need ftrokes, it muft be- 
 wray either much weaknefs in his fa- 
 ther or mafter, or a great frowardnefs 
 in the child. Praife and kindnefs are the 
 beft encouragements of children, and 
 to reward their diligence and good man- 
 ners with pretty knacks, gilded books, 
 fuch ornaments to their clothes as their 
 rank and purfe will allow, pieces of 
 money, and gratifications of the pa- 
 late, will more fweetly engage a child, 
 than any crofsgrained carriage. The pu- 
 nifhments alfo of moft faults, mould be 
 a with-holding theie rewards; and if 
 there be another whom the child emu- 
 lates, to confer them on him. If this pre- 
 vail 
 4
 
 f 15] 
 
 vail not, frowning will not, and mould 
 never be ufed, but in the very act of 
 correction : for frequent chiding either 
 makes it to be wholly flighted, or alie- 
 nates the heart of the child from his 
 parent or matter. And indeed the phi- 
 lofopher's ttone, and matter-piece of e- 
 ducation, is fo to ply a child as to gain 
 his heart, and retain his affection. 
 The faults we intend not to punifh, we 
 mould not notice, for it is much better 
 a child judge that he mifleth the rod, 
 through his matter's ignorance or not 
 obfervance, than that his faults are con- 
 nived at, and he fuffered to behave as 
 he pleafeth j which apprehension may 
 be the fource of much evil. Other ways 
 of puniming are fcorning children, and 
 publick fhaming them out of their fol- 
 lies; which courfe may be practifed 
 with good fuccefs, till a child be ten or 
 twelve years of age ; but after that it 
 
 is
 
 is no more to be praclifed. Children 
 (hould be feldom threatened but feldom- 
 er beaten, yet when need doth require 
 it, it (liould be done to fome purpofe ; 
 and the more unfrequent and fevere it 
 be, it (hall breed more terrour in the 
 child ; for cuftomary or flight correc- 
 tions make them little dreaded. 
 
 But the greateft difficulty in breed- 
 ing young ones, is whether to do it by 
 publick matters in fchool, or by private 
 ones at home. The advantages of 
 fchools are great ; for fince emulation 
 is that which preffeth children moll: ef- 
 fectually to their ftudies in fchools, they 
 have many .provocations that way ; as 
 alfo company makes all go moft vigo- 
 rouflv about their work ; and befides 
 
 J 
 
 in a fchool there are many pretty re- 
 creations, which exhilarates children j 
 and therefore undoubtedly a fchool if 
 7 well
 
 1 17] 
 
 Well managed, is a fpeedier and more fud- 
 cefsful courfe ; but for all this, I (hould 
 be flow to advife one, whofe purfe cart 
 anfwer to a private education, to adven- 
 ture on a fchool ; for I judge the morals 
 of a child to be that which deferves 
 the chieffe care, and the great diffolute^ 
 nefs that muft needs be in a rabble of 
 bafe ill-bred boys, doth much fcare me 
 from fchool education. As alfo I do 
 not conclude it a good and fafe courfe 
 to ripen children too faft : for fince dif- 
 cretion doth not ripen, but with years, 
 to fill a child's fails with too much wind 
 of knowledge, before he can have the 
 ballaft of fettled wifdom, feems an errour 
 in breeding 5 as alfo by reafon of the 
 fmall encouragement and contempt 
 fchoolmafters lye under, few of fpirits 
 ply that art except it be for a livelihood 
 till they befit for mounting higher, and 
 fo are more bufied in minding the courfe 
 C of
 
 of life they intend to follow, than their, 
 prefent employment ; and they for the 
 mod part neglect children : and as for 
 the ordering their morals, which I ac- 
 count the chieffe part of education, they 
 fcarce once mind it, or if there be fome few 
 more expert in that employment, their 
 fchools are much flocked to, fo that the 
 greateft part are much neglected, and 
 the moft considerable are lefs looked too 
 by pne who hath perhaps a hundred 
 others to divide his care amongft, than 
 by one whofe only and entire work it is to 
 fee to him. 
 
 But as for emulation, I confefs, without 
 it, I fliall expect but fmall, and flow pro- 
 grefs from all children, if they be not lin- 
 gularly rafe : it will be therefore a good 
 courfe to have another learning with the 
 child, not a fervant, left he difdain to en- 
 ter the lifts with him ; not gne too far be- 
 yond
 
 [ '9] 
 
 yond him in years and (landing, left he be 
 difcouraged ; yet one who by all likely- 
 hood may outrun him. 
 
 As for the place of education, it 
 feems fitteft for perfons of quality to 
 breed their children out of their own 
 houfes, if their health be any way good 
 and regular; and that becaufe oft the 
 fondnefs of parents, efpecially the mo- 
 thers, is the lofs of children j as alfo in 
 a great family among many fervants, 
 efpecially grooms and footmen, there are 
 many debordings and occafions of cor- 
 rupting youth; and theie alfo by their vain 
 flatteries fpoil children. Great conflu- 
 ence of company will alfo occafion many 
 necefTary avocations to a boy ; and too 
 great a table may make a child too much 
 a flave to his belly and tafte. A private 
 houfe, therefore, of fome difcreet friend, 
 will be perhaps the beft place for a 
 C 2 child's
 
 [ 20] 
 
 child's education. Thus the Cartha- 
 ginians put all children of quality, after 
 they were three years old, into the 
 temples among the Priefts, where they 
 lived till they were twelve. 
 
 For a child's exercifes, he fhould be 
 allowed all that he hath a mind to, if 
 they be not too exceffive wafters of 
 his body, and devourers of his time, 
 and a child, from whom parents would 
 expect much comfort, fhould not be 
 bred too foftly, delicioufly, or arro- 
 gantly ; for this debauches them into 
 fordid luxury and effeminacy. They 
 fhould be therefore taught to eat any 
 thing, and not to expect that every 
 thing be done to them by fervants ; but 
 learn to put on and off their clothes, 
 and other things belonging to them- 
 felves ; that fo, however their fortune 
 alter, they be early taught to bear a 
 
 lower
 
 lower condition. Only fine clothes, 
 and variety of them, is an encourage- 
 ment I would not have denied to chil- 
 dren ; efpecially to fuch as fee others 
 of their own rank in good ordeY. And 
 fo far have I adventured to fay of 
 children, while their childhood lafts ; 
 that is, till they be feven or eight years 
 old ; though many of the advices I 
 have fuggefted may be of ufe to a riper 
 age. 
 
 Having thus difmified our child, I 
 come next to examine how his boyifh 
 youth-hood mould be managed j that 
 is, till he be fourteen years old, which 
 is the next period of life. And the 
 firft thing here to be thought on, is the 
 choice of a Governour and Preceptour. 
 For if one's fortune can anfwer this 
 <3ouble charge, I would wifli thefe offi- 
 ces were in fundry hands : for as there 
 C 3 be
 
 t ] 
 
 be few furnifhed with fo much difcre- 
 tion as is requifite in a governour fit or 
 able to teach, or of a temper to floop 
 to fo mean an employment, fo there be 
 few able preceptours who are in any 
 degree qualified for the government of 
 youth j they being for mod part pe- 
 dantick, imperious, and trifling peo- 
 ple ; and further, the authority a govern- 
 our {hould preferve, can hardly be kept 
 up in the perfon of a preceptor, who 
 by the many quarrellings he muft have 
 with the boy, and by the many un- 
 pleafant tafks he muft put him to, can- 
 not have fo deep a fhare in his affec- 
 tion, as a governour ought to have. 
 If the father be a man of wifdome and 
 virtue, and have leifure and opportunity 
 to flay much at home, he will prove 
 the beft governour himfelf; but when 
 this is denied him, great diligence and 
 care mufl be had, to make a good 
 
 choice,,
 
 choice. Marc Aurele, that he might 
 find good governours for his fon, called 
 for all the eminenteft in the liberall 
 fciences throw the world, out of 
 which number, after he had ufed him- 
 felf all imaginable exaclnefs in trying 
 them, he made choice of fourteen, two 
 for every liberal art j and that he might 
 the better obferve their carriage and 
 behaviour, he kept them always nigh 
 himfelf j and undoubtedly the whole 
 education of the child depends on the 
 fitnefs of this choice. What a deplor- 
 able errour is it to intruft youths pfefent- 
 ly come from college, who cannot 
 govern themfelves, and pedants, with 
 the breeding of noblemen, whofe ar- 
 rogance, ignorance, indifcretion, rude- 
 nefs, and mifbshaviouf doe ruine youth. 
 
 The two great caufes of the penury of 
 
 governours, are thefe j firft the con- 
 
 C 4 tempt
 
 tempt that this employment is expofed 
 to, they being held and treated as fer- 
 vants, which makes gentlemen or men 
 of parts difdain it. Otherwife did Au- 
 rele the Emperor, who made his ion's 
 gpvernours eat at his own table j and 
 Theodoiius who once found his fon's 
 governour, Arfenius, Handing bare 
 while he was fitting, and ordered that 
 in all time thereafter, his fons fhould 
 fland uncovered by him, and he fit 
 covered. And as a more refpectful way 
 of treating governours would allure 
 many to the employment, fo it mould 
 conduce much to preferve in the youths 
 refpecl: towards their governour. In 
 Athens wee read that the nobleft and 
 beft of that ftate were educators of 
 youth; fuch as Socrates, Plato, Epicu- 
 rus, and Ariflotle. The like was alfo 
 at Rome. 
 
 Another
 
 [ 'Si 
 
 Another reafon of the penury of go- 
 vernours, is the unworthy niggardnefs 
 of parents, who grudge to give a confi- 
 derable reward, whereby they may be 
 well maintained and encouraged. It is 
 a frugality, the wifdom whereof I can- 
 not comprehend, to mefnage a youth's 
 fortune, at the lofs of his education. 
 What an inexcufable folly is it, to fee 
 parents beftow- largely for a horfe to 
 their fon, and for grooms to drefs him, 
 and for trimming of his clothes and 
 linnens, and yet ftand upon a good fa- 
 lary for a difcreet governour. Ariftip- 
 pus having counfelled a father to fee 
 for a good tutor to his fon, he was ask- 
 ed what would that amount too j he 
 anfwered a hundred crowns ; the co- 
 vetous wretch replied, that fuch a 
 fum might buy him a (lave ; Well, 
 faid Ariftippus, bellow your money fo, 
 
 and
 
 [26] 
 
 and you (hall have two (laves, the one 
 your ill-bred fon, and the other he 
 whom you buy for your money. A 
 large and confiderable falary therefore, 
 whereby one may live as a gentleman, 
 if it procure a good governour, is the 
 beft mefnaged money the boy can 
 have. 
 
 All hiftories tell us, befide the evi- 
 dence reafon gives for the thing, what 
 advantages youths have reaped from 
 wife educators, and the beft and great- 
 eft Princes have been thofe whom phi- 
 lofophers bred. Darius was bred by 
 Lichan the philofopher; Artaxerxesby 
 Menandrej Alexander by Ariftotle ; 
 Xeniad king of Corinth by Chilon j 
 Epaminondas by Lyfis; Pyrrhus by 
 Artemius ; Trajan by Plutarque ; and 
 
 many more. 
 
 The
 
 r *?] 
 
 The meafures whereby governours 
 Jbuld be chofen are thefe ; firft, he 
 fould be one that fincerely fears God : 
 for, fince that is the chief defign of 
 man, it fould be firfl looked to ; yet 
 fuperftition in re-igion fould be none of 
 the qualifications I would defire in one, 
 but one of generous, fublime, and ra- 
 tional maxims, fould be chieffly fought 
 for. Branches of thefe are virtue, can- 
 dor, contempt of the world, humility, 
 and meeknefs ; for one that hath 
 crooked notions or bad pradlifes in any 
 of thefe, muft make a bad governour. 
 
 Wifedome and difcretion is to be 
 fought in the next place, without 
 which even a good man will prove a 
 bad governour, ,if he have not the wife 
 arts of gaining the youth's love, of 
 tyming reprooffs, of infinuating pre- 
 -cepts, and of moderating his correc- 
 tions. A
 
 A ferene good nature is alfo a very 
 r.ecefTary qualification for a governour ; 
 that by his morofenes he may not de- 
 terre the youth from his company, but 
 by his fweet behaviour may make him 
 delight in his converfation : yet with 
 this there muft be joyned gravity, o- 
 therwife he mall quickly lofe his au- 
 thority ; and indeed it is a rare com- 
 pound to find a juft mixture of dou- 
 ceur and gravity. For the want of 
 this did Marc Aurele turn off fy ve of 
 his fon's governours ; becaufe at table 
 upon the occafion of fome buffonery 
 they laughed fo intemperately, that 
 they ftamped, clapped their hands and 
 friiked with their bodies. 
 
 And in the laft place, I would chufe 
 one of various learning. I place this 
 laft, for indeed I judge learning the 
 meandl piece of education, and were 
 
 it
 
 [ 29] 
 
 it not that ftudy preferves youths from 
 idlenefs and worfe exercifes, I fould 
 not very earneftly recommend it to the 
 breeding of all youth : for indeed the 
 right framing of their minds, and form- 
 ing their manners, is moft to be 
 thought upon : as alfo, fince I would 
 have languages taught by a diftindt pre- 
 ceptor, 1 fould not much ftand on it 
 whither the governour were exact in 
 them or not: but I would not have 
 him one who hath made one fcience 
 his whole ftudy j for often confined 
 fludents have flraitned and narrow- 
 thoughts ; as alfo one of various lite- 
 rature may give the youth hints of all 
 things, whereby as he mall teach him 
 many things, fo the variety of the mat- 
 ters he can difcourfe of to the boy, 
 will make his converfation more a- 
 greeable and pleafant ; whereas if he 
 alwaies harp upon one firing, that will 
 
 breed
 
 [ 3 1 
 
 breed a naufea ; but chiefly by giving 
 him ane inlight into many things he 
 fhall beft difcover where his ftrength 
 lyeth, and to what ftudy his inclina- 
 tions lead him. 
 
 Having got a governour as nigh this 
 as can be had at any rate, he muft be 
 engaged to love the ehild and family 
 where he is : for love and friendfhip 
 are moft forcible motives and attrac- 
 tives, which prevail more with inge- 
 nuous fpirits then all fallerys. Having 
 him thus engaged by true friendmip, 
 as you mall be aflured of his utmoft di- 
 ligence, fo you {hall be fecure from 
 fears of having him pulled from you by 
 the offer of a greater or better condi- 
 tion > fines friendfhip in a vertuous 
 mind downweighs all other confidera- 
 tions j and a change in a governour is 
 
 among
 
 [ 3' ] 
 
 among the greateft prejudices a boy 
 can fuftain. 
 
 Being thus well fcrved in a gover- 
 nour, I fhould not be very anxious 
 about a preceptor ; being fatisfied with 
 any that hath ability and dexterity for 
 teaching thefe things for which I feek 
 him ; though I could be heartily glad 
 to get one well qualified as to other 
 things, that in cafe of the governour 
 his ficknefs or neceflary abfence, he 
 might in fome tolerable degree fill his 
 place. 
 
 And fo farre of the choice of a go- 
 vernour, on which I have enlarged and 
 infifted perhaps to tedioufnes : but I 
 hold it to be the moft important matter 
 in this whole work, which being well 
 done, the whole defigne is as good as 
 gained. 
 
 But
 
 [3* ] 
 
 . But next I (hall confider how our 
 boy fould be trained up. In the firft 
 place, the main care fould be to infufe 
 in him early, a great fenfe of the Deity, 
 together with a holy reverence to Scrip- 
 ture, joined with a high efteeme of 
 vertuous perfones and actions, and as 
 great a contempt of vicious ones. Thefe 
 fould be ever and anon repeated and 
 inculcated in children ; and as their 
 Ipirits maturate and ripen, fo fould th& 
 truths of Chriftianity be further ex- 
 plained to them. And that they may 
 be the more capable to receive thefe, 
 a governour fould fludy to illuftrate 
 theia, by obvious and plain meta- 
 phors, whereby as they mall be the 
 more diftinclly tranfmitted into the 
 youth's underftanding, fo they mall be 
 received with affection, and retained 
 tenacioufly : and this way is the more 
 to be pra&ifed becaufe youth is not ca- 
 pable 
 4
 
 [33] 
 
 pable of ftrong reafon ; and this method 
 did our Saviour praclife to his young 
 difciples ; and Pythagoras, and all the 
 ancients, taught their profoundeft theo- 
 ries and maximes thue. As for ver- 
 tuous practices, he muft be made ftill 
 to read Scripture* and ftudy to retain 
 much of it, if his memory be good ; 
 he muft be taught to pray devoutly, and 
 ufed to it thrice a-day, good and fhort 
 forms being given him for that pur- 
 pofe. A reverence for the Sabbath 
 fould alfo be begotten in him, as alfo 
 gravity in all the acts of Chriftian wor- 
 fhip, and hearing fermons. All thefc 
 his goverhour fould oblige him to by 
 ferious and reiterated remonftrances ; 
 but chiefly by his own unaffected ex*- 
 ample. 
 
 He fould alfo earneftly iiifinuate to 
 
 him a love of ingenuity, and by his 
 
 D practice
 
 [ 34] 
 
 practice or difcourfes difcover nothing 
 that favours of doublenes : he fould 
 therefore beget in him ane abomination 
 at lying. Trajan the emperor, after 
 a long vvarre with Ceball king of the 
 Daces, who had often falfly prevarica- 
 ted, took him and fubdued his king- 
 dome, and after his death was educa- 
 ting his fon, with ane intention, ac- 
 cording to the Roman cuftome, to re- 
 Jftore him his father's kingdome, ma- 
 king him his tributary and vafTal j but 
 feeing him once break into a garden, 
 at night he afked where he had been all 
 afternoon ; the boy anfwered, in fchool 5 
 with which difingenuity the emperor 
 was fo offended, that all the intercef- 
 fion of the Daces, and many Romans, 
 could never induce him to make good 
 what he had intended for him ; faying 
 alwaies, that he who beguhne fo early 
 
 to
 
 to prevaricate, could never deferve a 
 crown. And indeed difingenuity is the 
 peft to youths. 
 
 He mutt alfo" Wean him by degrees 
 from pafllon, malice, and pettifh con- 
 ceits : and certainly the fureft way to 
 root out thefe humours* is to fee that 
 they be not irritated by any provoca- 
 tions, as much as is poflible j for thefe 
 are bellows and nourimers of thefe 
 vices, which without fuch irritaments 
 will die through defuetude. To con- 
 tend againft a paffionate temper, may 
 well heighten it, but {hall never extir- 
 pate it : to reprove one for thefe faults, 
 while he is in the paffion, is loft la- 
 bour 5 but When the humour is over 
 and compofed, then will it be fitt that 
 he with all gentle calmnes (how him 
 the folly of thefe humours, 
 
 He
 
 [ 3<5 J 
 
 He mufl ftudy to wean him rrifen-* 
 fibly from the love of his palate, and 
 from foftnes ; but thi's muft be done 
 flowly. Only boldnes, arrogance, vain- 
 glory, opiniaftrity, and talking, muft 
 not be much reprefTed, unkffe they 
 fwell to ane extravagant height before 
 one be twelve or fourteen yeares of 
 age ; for thefe humours are the chieffe 
 incitements that drive boyes to ftudy ; 
 neither are they capable of the contrary 
 impreffions ; yet it will be necelTary 
 often to difcourfe to the boy of the ex- 
 cellence of the vertues oppofite to thefe -, 
 and to teach a boy reafon in all his ac- 
 tions, and to doe nothing wilfully, a 
 mafter fould injoyn him nothing but 
 that for which he mews him good rea- 
 fon, 
 
 But the vertue which muft be moft 
 carefully infufed in youths, is good 
 
 nature
 
 [37] 
 
 nature and gentlenes ; for a boy who is 
 once brought to this point, is capable 
 of all admonitions, and fufceptive of 
 every impreffion. 
 
 Now all theie vertues fould be taught 
 not by mere precept, but by rational 
 difcourfe ; (hewing the excellence, 
 fweetnefs, and advantage of them ; and 
 this will be beft infmuated by examples 
 brought either from hiftory or expe- 
 rience, 
 
 It may feem that thefe advices are 
 more proper for the age of a youth 
 than a boy ; but any that would rear 
 up a noble fuperftrutture in the minds 
 of youth, muft lay the foundation be- 
 times. A frequent and dayly difcourf- 
 ing of thele fubje&s will at long-runne 
 prove notably ufeful j for alwaies fome 
 what will ftick. 
 
 D 3 As
 
 As for his letters, the firft thing the 
 (Grecians and Romans thought on, was 
 to teach their boye,s the elegancies of 
 their own tongue ; for which end every 
 city was full of the fchooles of rhetoric!? 
 ans : and perhaps the neglect of teach- 
 ing boyes the purity and propriety of 
 theip mother-tongue, hath occasioned 
 the great rudenefs critieks judge our 
 wefterne languages to be guilty of; ora- 
 tory in them having never been made a 
 ftudy before Cardinal Richelieu his e- 
 recling that colledge at Paris. 
 
 But I confefie I doe not fo much ap- 
 prove this way of education fo early i 
 for to teach rhetoric!* or logick (all the 
 difference betwixt thefe being that the 
 one is reafon in a court drefle, the 
 other in a military garb) before one have 
 arrived at n iblide undemanding of 
 things, is a reverfing the right order, 
 
 which
 
 [391 
 
 which requires that wee know things, 
 before wee think of ordering them. 
 Therefore I judge the teaching of for- 
 raine languages to be the fitted work for 
 a boy 5 the Latine or French are thefe 
 in which all learning is now to be found, 
 and fo one of thefe muft be exactly 
 known and underftood. But becaufe 
 Latine, as it is the ancienter and more 
 univerfall, fo by a long politure hath in 
 it I know not what handfomenes pecu- 
 liar to itfelfe j as alfo by its long reigne 
 in the world hath been and is to this day 
 the language of learned men. I there- 
 fore conceive it neceffary to prefle a boy 
 in earned to the acquiring, and exact un- 
 derftanding, and facility in this tongue - r 
 but withall I muft adde, that I would 
 not fo countercarre with a boy, but i 
 I difcovered either a great defect in his 
 memory, or ane unconquerable aver- 
 fion in him, fo that no art could fub- 
 D 4 due
 
 [4Q] 
 
 due it, I would not for that judge him 
 loft, nor drive him fo to it as to alie- 
 nate his mind quite from ftudy ; fince 
 he may be a knowing man without a 
 word of it. 
 
 And fo I equally blame the French, 
 who begin univerfally to negle<ft the 
 Latine, and our countrymen, who in- 
 ilft too much upon it, and give over 
 the education of a boy for loft, if he 
 goe not through with his grammaire. 
 
 Next I muft tell you that the whole 
 manner of teaching Latine in Scotland 
 difpleafeth me : and certainly there 
 muft be fome grand errour in teaching 
 it, when dull boyes after manny yeeres 
 ufelefle ftudy therein, goe to France or 
 Holland, and in fix or eight moneths 
 acquire a perfection in thefe tongues ; 
 
 and,
 
 and why might they not learn Latino 
 as Toon ? 
 
 And firfr, our grammaire, how good 
 fpever, or full, it be in itfelf, is cer^ 
 tainly the unfittefl to teach by that can 
 be imagined : for it is fo tedious, fa 
 crabbed, and unpleafant, that it ferves 
 rather to fcarre than to invite boyes. 
 There is no need for learning anoma- 
 lys, or all particular rules, by gram- 
 maire j for thefe are beft taught by 
 praclife ; and to force boyfs to get fo. 
 many barbarous rules by heart, is to 
 torture rather than to teach them. The 
 rudiments, Lillie's accidence, or Voffius 
 his grammaire, are the beft j and as to 
 what is wanting in thefe, it muft be 
 fupplied by praclife. The other way 
 Q teaching parcells of manny authors I 
 as little approve -, though it be true that 
 
 variety
 
 variety breeds delectation : yet that de- 
 fultory way of iludy loffeth them as to 
 a flyle. I fould therefore choofe one 
 or two of the beft authors, fuch as Cae- 
 far and Terence, and oblige the boy to 
 read thefe over and over again j by 
 which means he fould learne much bet- 
 ter how to forme his ftile. As for poets, 
 Virgile alone is worth all for purity and 
 noblenes of flile ; though for his fancy 
 he deferve not the name of a poet, but 
 of a eloquent verifier. Thefe there- 
 fore I would have children learne ex- 
 a&ly. I fould alfo advife boyes to be 
 made read Caftellio his Bible ; where 
 the knowledge of the matter will facili- 
 tate the underftanding the language. 
 That tranflation I recommend for the 
 elegant purity of the ftile ; though it be 
 none of. the Bibles I moil value or ap- 
 prove of. 
 
 Another
 
 [43] 
 
 Another errour in our fchooles is, 
 the making boyes fpeak Latine one with 
 another. I know to manny this will 
 feem a great paradoxe ; iince exercifo 
 is the propereft meanne for acquiring 
 languages : but this holds only where 
 we fpeake to thofe who underftancl 
 better than .ourfelves, and can correct 
 us when we fay amifie. But to boyes 
 to talk one to another, may well learne 
 them a readines of fpeaking, and a 
 command of words, but will afTuredly 
 prove the eccafion of ruining them as 
 to all ornacy or purity in diction : for 
 if one in the acquiring any language 
 get at firft any wrong fett, it will prove 
 a greater labour to wear out that, 
 than the teaching the whole language ; 
 arid fuch confabulations among boyes 
 at play, where their m after is not by to 
 correct their errours, will teach them ft 
 bafe and rafcally ftile. 
 
 The
 
 [ 44] 
 
 The unfrequency of the exercifing 
 boyes in verfions and tranflations, is alfo 
 a great error : for this will be found a 
 better mean to inure them to Latine 
 than either grammaires, lefTons, or con- 
 fabulations. 
 
 The way therefore I judge properefl 
 for teaching Latine, is after a boy hath 
 once well underftood the few principles 
 of the language out of a mort gram- 
 maire, he fould be prefently begun to 
 fome feleft author, where in teaching 
 the rnafter fould not only expound the 
 book, but make him apprehend the 
 propriety of the words and the elegancy 
 qf phrafe j and with this he fould be- 
 gin him quickly to tranflate out of Eng- 
 lifh into Latine, which that the boy 
 may the better understand, he fould, 
 before the boy, tranflate himfelfe the 
 parcell he prefcribes for his tafk, mew-. 
 
 ing
 
 [45] 
 
 ing why he makes choice of every 
 word and phrafe, and then take away 
 what he hath done, leaving the boy to 
 his own induftry. As alfo, in examin- 
 ing the tranflation, he fould not be 
 content with bare well conftru&ed La- 
 tine, but {hew him how every word or 
 phrafe fould have been better chofen 
 or placed. And though at firft, this 
 work goe on ilowly, yet a few moneths 
 exact pradlife this way, will I doubt 
 not be more profitable than the whole 
 year in the ordinary method. 
 
 -But that which I chiefly rely on, as 
 to the learning this language, is to dif- 
 courfe much with the boy in Latine, 
 and to make him talk alwaies to his 
 mafter or governour in that tongue ; 
 and by this exercife he mail moft 
 compendioufly learne the fpeaking a 
 good jftile -, and mewing oft in difcourfe, 
 
 what
 
 [46 ] 
 
 what are the flowers of the Latine, and 
 alfo gently correcting the boy when he 
 fpeaks amifle. 
 
 Now the reafon why this excellent 
 method is fo little ufed, is becaufe few 
 mailers have that ready abundance of 
 Latins as to diiconrfe promptly in it 
 without {lady 5 but this to one who 
 well underftands the Latine will be 
 foon arrived at, if he but ufe hirnlelfe 
 often to cofnpofe, difcourfe, and rhedi* 
 tate in Latine. And how troublefome 
 foever this may feem, yet he who 
 takes the* breeding of a youth to tafk, 
 fould make it his calling, and fo jbdge 
 himfclf bound ui confeience to fpare 
 no pains that may fitt him for ane ex- 
 adldifcharge of his duty. 
 
 Neither wiH the labour prove ib 
 great as majr at firft appeas : fcfi? i few 
 
 weeks 
 
 4
 
 [ 47] 
 
 weeks diligent ftudy will overcome it ; 
 after which one (hall acquire that 
 which deferved his pains, even though 
 the fenfe of duty had not exacted it, to 
 witt, a readinefs in exprefling himfelf 
 in the beft of languages. 
 
 It is next to be confidered what are 
 thefe fubjecls he fould entertain his 
 pupill with : they fould be therefore 
 chieffly vertuous documents : but be~ 
 caufe a boy cannot be much taken with 
 long lectures of morality, hiftory fould 
 be the frequented fubject of his longeft 
 difcourfes, and by this meannes as the 
 boy (hall be often releafed from the 
 drudging pennaace of learning a Ian* 
 guage, which chequer work in his ftu* 
 dy cannot but much pleafe him, fo he 
 (hall alfo learne things, both plain, 
 fuitable to his capacities, and ufefull. 
 As likewife, fince all boyes naturally 
 
 love
 
 r o i 
 I 4 5 j 
 
 love talking about hiftories, he fhall be 
 hereby much enamoured of his maf- 
 ter's company, and made to preferre it 
 to many of his idle games. 
 
 Now for ane apparatus to hiftory^ 
 geography mutt be firil difcourfed of, 
 and well illuminated maps mult be got, 
 which as they will delight the boy, fo 
 will they help much to infix places in 
 his memory. 
 
 In difcourfing of geography and hif- 
 tory, the method of painters is to be 
 followed, who firft draw the ruder 
 draughts, and mark the proportions ; 
 afterwards filling them up with their 
 true colours. In geography therefore 
 all to be told at firft going over, is the 
 names and divinons of the feveral flates 
 and kingdoms in the world : but when 
 he goes to give the hiftory of any na*- 
 
 tion, 
 7
 
 [49] 
 
 tion, its government, chieffe rivers, 
 provinces, and towns, muft be re- 
 membered, not all at once, but as oc- 
 cafion offers in narrating the hiftory. 
 For the account of the ftate of the world, 
 the boy fould be made firft exactly to 
 know the feveral asraes of tyme, with 
 the chieffe periods and fates of ftates 
 for without this, did one know never 
 fo manny tran factions, he deferves only 
 the name of a tale-teller, but not of a 
 hiflorian. After this the boy fould be 
 acquainted with the more particular 
 accounts, efpecially of the European 
 Hates, and any pretty particular actions 
 fould be alfo told him : he fould be al- 
 fo acquainted with the ftate, progre- 
 fion, and retrogradation of learning, 
 and with the lives and works of learn- 
 ed men - y but chieffly with the (late of 
 the church, and thefe difcourfes fould 
 be often interlarded with morall ob- 
 E fer-
 
 [ 50] 
 
 fervations : but never fould either boy 
 or youth hear a word of policy ; for 
 this of all things makes them become 
 moft arrogant and vain. And woe to 
 that land where the young nobility be- 
 gin to think of policy, and mending 
 the ftate : for their arrogant felfe con- 
 ceit, together with their hardy for- 
 wardnes and violence, will not fail to 
 fubvert and ruine it, and to this among 
 other reafons I do not flick to impute 
 moft of our late diforders. Now a 
 boy being thus difcourfed to, he (hall 
 profite admirably both in Latine and 
 hiftory, and may be made a good hif- 
 torian 'ere he read one writer. And 
 lince hiftory is ib eafily underftood, it 
 muft be a very proper exercife for the 
 raw and unripened capacities of a boy. 
 Only a governour muft not think much 
 though he be put often to repeat the 
 fame things : yet for the bpies memo- 
 ry*
 
 [ 51] 
 
 ry, it were not amhTe to make him 
 write downe the more confiderable pe- 
 riods and revolutions of kingdomes ; 
 but thefe notes would be mort and 
 comprehenfive, that the boy may not 
 be put to the doleful toil of much 
 writing. 
 
 The corrections of a boy are now to 
 be thought upon. A publike punifh- 
 ment, or affront, fould never be haf- 
 arded upon after a boy is ten yeares of 
 
 age ; for this doth too much fink him. 
 
 o * 
 
 if he be of an ingenuous fpirit, and 
 too much exafperate him if he be not fo. 
 Kyndnes and love will alwaies prove 
 the beft charmes : even great faults, if 
 the boy confefle them, and promife 
 amendment, fould be pardoned j un- 
 lefs they be cuftomary. Faults fould 
 be reproved kyndly, without paffion, 
 if the boy be not froward ; neither 
 E 2 fould
 
 [52] 
 
 fould a mafter correft while he is an- 
 gry 3 for as his paffion may make him 
 exceed, fo it will drive him to a car- 
 rige, whereby the boy mail judge him 
 paffionate, and that he is hated by him, 
 whereby all his kyndnes for him mall 
 be loft. And therefore Plato com- 
 manded his nephew never to whip his 
 boy when he found himfelfe any way 
 warmed againft him : and if a child 
 have any kyndnes or good nature, the 
 fliarpeft punimment will be to carry 
 coldly to him, without any (hew of 
 kyndnes ; and this, if continued in for 
 a while, will fooner gall him than any 
 thing j for fcourges, if he be of a 
 good cheerfull temper, are quickly for- 
 gotten, and if he be otherwife, are too 
 much refented. But this cold carriage 
 muft not laft too long, leaft the boy be 
 driven to defpaire of recovering his 
 former room in his governour's affec- 
 tion.
 
 [ 53 ] 
 
 tion, and fo alienate his heart from 
 him. 
 
 For recreations, way fould be given 
 to the boy his own choice and inclina- 
 tions j only his governour muft be by 
 degrees, and in all wifedome, weaning 
 him from childifli and triffling ones : 
 and the beft courfe for that, is by 
 fubftituting better and pleafanter ones 
 in their place. Two good rules for 
 this are, firft, as was above marked, 
 to converfe fo pleafantly and kyndly 
 with him, as that he may account his 
 company his fweeteft divertifement ; 
 the other is, to confider what are the 
 pleafures he is moft taken with, and to 
 procure him a refined and polifhed ufe 
 of thefe. If he delight in a garden, 
 and gathering flowers, then let a corner 
 of the garden be made up for him, 
 where he mall have all flowers and 
 E 3 plants,
 
 [ 54 ] 
 
 plants, or a little nurfery j and thus 
 may he begin to underftand the nature 
 and the waies of educating and cultiva- 
 ting plants. If he love mufick, then 
 let him be bred with both finging, 
 playing upon inftruments, and dancing. 
 If he love limning, painting, or ingrav- 
 ing, or any other kynde of mecha- 
 iiifme, let matters and tools be provi- 
 ded for perfecting him in it. If he 
 love tales, provide him with thefe col- 
 lections of them that are to be had. 
 And thus by finding out what recrea- 
 tion pleafeth him, things may be fo 
 adjoufted that even his idleft houres 
 mall not entirely goe to vvafte, but may 
 be fpent in learning and praclifing what 
 may be matter of ufe and divertifement 
 in a riper age. 
 
 Thefe debauching houfe-games boles 
 fou'd not learn ; for as they are profufe 
 
 wafers
 
 [ 55] 
 
 wafters of tyme and money, fo in boles 
 efpecially they give too great and fre- 
 quent irritations to paffion and wrath, 
 and they neither exercife body nor fpi- 
 rit. As for other recreations, a boy 
 fould gett large portions of his tyme to 
 beftovv on them -, often the whole af- 
 ternoon, except ane hour before fup- 
 per, may be well allowed them, and 
 yet tyme enough remaine for fludy. 
 
 The Latine being thus well under- 
 ftood, and eafily fpoken, the next talk 
 fould be Greek ; which were it not that 
 the New Teftament is in that language, 
 I fould not very earneftiy prefTe, fince 
 for Noblemen it is no otherwife ufeful j 
 all Greek books being exactly well 
 tranflated in this late critical age. But 
 fince the treafure of our faith is in Greek, 
 it fould be preffed upon all, not to be 
 E 4 willing
 
 [ 56] 
 
 willing to owe our knowledge of that 
 to fecond-hand. 
 
 Some account the beft method to be 
 the teaching both Gresk and Latine to- 
 gether : but to this 1 cannot affent ; for 
 unleffe the boy have a ftrong and regu- 
 lar memory, this counter-charged tafk 
 will overburden and confufe him -, nei- 
 ther is the ftudy of languages fo plea- 
 fant a work, that one fould goe out of 
 one rack into another : and therefore all 
 the hours you will fpare from the La- 
 tine fould be beftowed on a pleafanter 
 ftudy, fuch as geography, &c. When 
 the boy is at Greek, the fame rules are 
 to be obferved that were prefcribed in 
 the advice for the Latine ; only the abi- 
 lity to difcourfe in Greek is not to be 
 expected, nor fuch ane understanding 
 of elegancy as is requifite for making 
 tranflations ; it being enough for gen- 
 tlemen
 
 [ 57'] 
 
 tlemen if they can well render Greek 
 into Latine, though they cannot put 
 Latine in Gretk. Yet one muft not 
 be loofed from this ftudy till he be able 
 readily to expound any place of the 
 New Teftament, upon the opening of 
 the book ; but meanne while the boy 
 muft continue in the pradife of Latine, 
 reading through all the Roman hifto- 
 rians, and the beft written moderne 
 ones, the chiefte of which is Buchanan ; 
 and hereby he (hall not only retain but 
 improve his knowledge of Latine and 
 hiftory. 
 
 The Greek being difmifled, he muft 
 ftill pradife in it, reading at leaft ten or 
 twelve verfes in the New Teftament 
 every day ; otherwife he {ball forget it 
 as fpeedily as he learned it. All this I 
 fuppofe may be done to fome degree of 
 perfection, even though one proceed 
 
 with
 
 with a flow pace, again a boy arrive at 
 twelve or thirteen years of age ; and if 
 the boy his memory be good, and his 
 averfion to language not very ftrong, 
 upon the fame account that I recom- 
 mended the Greek, I fould alfo advife 
 him to be taught Hebrew, at leaft fo 
 much as to read and expound with the 
 help of a dictionary, and know the 
 common grammaire ; and this by an 
 able mafter may be taught, allowing to 
 it but ane hour a day, in a few moneths ; 
 but for Caldaic, Syriac, and Samnri- 
 tane, though they vary little from the 
 Hebrew, and fo are eafily underflood, 
 yet they are of no neceflity, except the 
 Caldaic ; fome portions of the Old 
 Teftament being in that language : and 
 this having the fame character and 
 grammaire, will be a very eafy work. 
 But for Arabic, it is not to be meddled 
 with, except the boy have a great ge- 
 nius
 
 [59 1 
 
 nius that way. Thefe three mother- 
 languages, the Latine, Greek, and He- 
 brew, being thus acquired, mufl be 
 preferved by frequent and conflant ex- 
 ercife : for to difufe -a tongue, before 
 one be a mafter in it, is to lofe it. 
 
 Thefe being thus acquired, the next 
 ftudy I fould apply a boy to, would be 
 the French, which will ' be of no diffi- 
 culty to one who hath Latine, and is a 
 language now moft neceffary to be 
 known, fince all learning is put in 
 French : and even though parents in- 
 tend their child (hall travel, yet it will 
 be fitt they at leaft perfectly underfland 
 it ere they goe from home, whereby 
 a great many moneths, wherein they 
 muft idly (lay in France, mall be cutt 
 off : and the beft way to learne is quick- 
 ly to begin a boy with a French fer- 
 vant. 
 
 This
 
 This language being underftood, Ita- 
 lian and Spanifli will be very eafy ; 
 though to one that intends not to travel 
 thefe kingdoms, they are of no great 
 ufe, fmce there be few books in thefe 
 languages brought among us. Some 
 there are indeed in Italian, but fcarce 
 any in Spanim. As for the Germane, 
 it being no dialed: of Latine, and a ori- 
 ginal language, it will be a hard tafk, 
 and no way necefTary ; for almoft all 
 their books are written in Latine j and 
 Latine and French will eafily carry one 
 through all the lower Germany, if not 
 the upper too, and therefore there is 
 no need to teach it. 
 
 And hitherto I have brought our boy 
 through the harfheft parts of education, 
 and the mod unpleafant both to mafter 
 and fcholar ; and at fourteen or fifteen 
 
 yeares
 
 yeares of age, I flippofe him to be well 
 feen in the neceffary tongues, in hiftory, 
 and geography: and fo as by our law 
 he wears out of tutory, he alfo fhall 
 need a preceptor no more ; the reft of 
 the work being more rational, and fo to 
 be performed by the governour, who is 
 never fo neceffary as at this age. 
 
 And firft I muft condemne the apply- 
 ing youths to the ftudy of philofophy ; 
 whereas to judge of a hypothefis of na- 
 ture is one of the deepeft thoughts can 
 enter into the heart of a man, and fo 
 requires the greateft maturity of fpirit. 
 But though fome hints might be given 
 of hypothefes, yet to drive youths to 
 pofitive affertioris, and to make them 
 tenacioufly adhere to and defend thefe, 
 is to overturn philofophy ; but to keep 
 them many years at this, as if it were 
 2 the
 
 the only learning, is the loffe of youth, 
 and the ruine of literature. 
 
 But to begin with the chieffe care ; 
 now is the time wherein the governour 
 fould with all diligence infufe in the 
 youth's mind, the true and folide prin- 
 ciples of the Chriftian religion ; not fo 
 much as acquainting him, except by 
 way of hiftorical relation, with the 
 janglings of divines and contravertifls ; 
 but he fould chieffly root in him the 
 perfuafion of thefe great fundamental 
 verities, to preferve him from the poi- 
 fon of Atheifme ; and for other mat- 
 ters, two principles fould be deeply in- 
 fixed in him ; the one not to be curious 
 or fubtile in divine matters ; nor to ex- 
 amine them by the querks of fophyftry ; 
 and the other not to be fondly nor fu- 
 perftitiouflyaddidled to one's own perfua- 
 fion, nor to cenfure or judge others who 
 
 differ.
 
 [ 63 ] 
 
 differ. How necefTary it is to rivet 
 thefe principles in youth, our prefent 
 diffractions doefufficiently prove. Thefe 
 foundations being well laid, other fu- 
 perftruclures may be flowly reared. 
 
 For theology books, I fould advife 
 none to be put in a youth's hand, but 
 fuch as give accounts of the plain and 
 literal meaning of Scriptures, and there- 
 fore the governour fould every day read 
 with the youth confiderable portions of 
 Scripture, acquainting him with the fe- 
 veral difficulties as they occurre, and 
 with the folutions of them ; and if the 
 youth have any knowledge of criticifmes 
 it fould make up one part of their dif- 
 courfes, efpecially on the Lord's Day, to 
 unriddle to him knotty places of Scrip- 
 ture : and this is all for the fcience of 
 theology fitt to be taught, and indeed 
 
 he 
 6
 
 [ 6 4 ] 
 
 he who well underftands Scripture, can- 
 not choofe but be a good theologue. 
 
 But at this age, piety is chiefly to be 
 looked to -, the youth mull: often hear 
 from his governour ferious difcourfes of 
 God, and the life to come, and be 
 taught to love him and his fon Jefus 
 Chrift ; he fould therefore prefle him 
 to be ferious in praier, and fould often 
 in fecret pray with him -, as alfo he 
 fould urge him to meditate often, and 
 to review his life : he muft alfo now 
 fludy to perfuade him of the vanity of 
 the world, and to undervalue all things 
 without him ; to poffeffe his mind with 
 calm and tranquill thoughts ; and thus 
 fould he be diligent to forme him in his 
 moralls, to beat down all defire or love 
 of pleafure, and to kindle in him a celfi- 
 tude of mind, and a generous defire of 
 doing good to others. Solomon's Eccle- 
 
 iiaftes
 
 [65] 
 
 fiaftes muft be often read to him ; and 
 the Stoicall philofophy fould be ex- 
 plained to him, and Epictetus fould be 
 carefully read to him. Thefe things 
 fould be frequently repeated, and illu- 
 ftrated, and made good, by hiflorical 
 inftances, which doe alwaies affecT: 
 youths more than bare reafonings. 
 
 The vices now to be reprefled are, 
 love of money, ambition, much talk, 
 a valuing one's felfe for their rank, 
 title, friends, or parts -, but chieffly 
 ram and undifcreet cenfuring : and all 
 thefe muft be beaten downe by ftrong 
 reafon often repeated. Nothing muft 
 now be carried by authority or violence ; 
 the youth muft be treated, before others, 
 with refpecl and kindnes, and not open- 
 ly twitted or reproved for his faults : 
 yea, it will make private admonitions 
 to be the better received, if he difcerne 
 F in
 
 [66] 
 
 in his governour a care to cover and 
 excufe his faults to others. He fould 
 be carefTed with great affedion, efpe- 
 cially when he is reproved for his faults, 
 that he may not only bear them well, 
 but may be thereby engaged to love 
 his governour, and to obferve his pre- 
 cepts. 
 
 His governour had alfo need to look 
 well to himfelfe j for in this age youths 
 are moft prying and cenforious, and 
 will difcerne one's weaknes ; and find- 
 ing any are apt becaufe of it to con- 
 temne them, and difregard what they 
 fay. 
 
 As for their learning, they fould be 
 made ftill to continue in the practice of 
 the tongues they have acquired, and 
 for further improvement fould get a 
 general touch of moft things. 
 
 2 I
 
 I fould begin with anatomy, as ane 
 eafy and ufefull piece of knowledge, 
 not troubling the youth to get by heart 
 the names of veins, arteries, nerves, 
 and mufcules, but to make him under- 
 fland the ufe, function, fituation, fi- 
 gure, and dependance of the chiefF 
 parts of the body ; and this will be nei- 
 ther a tedious nor ane unpleafant work j 
 efpecially if wee be where wee may fee 
 difledtions. Yet good copper prints 
 will compenfe in a good degree this 
 want, if the youth have a nimble fancy. 
 
 Next I would teach him the nature 
 of herbs and trees, with the waies of 
 cultivating and nurfing them j and as 
 this feems to have been intended by 
 God for Adam his firft talk, fo it is 
 ane excrcife fo full of pleafure, that I 
 know not whether to call it a ftudy or 
 a recreation. 
 
 F 2 The
 
 [68] 
 
 The governour fould alfo acquaint 
 him with the natural hiftory, and the 
 chieffe experiments that are of late 
 made ; and this is the beft apparatus 
 for philofophy. 
 
 Next he fould acquaint the youth 
 with mathematicks ; and to invite him 
 to it, he fould begin quickly to mow 
 him fome of the more pleafant mecha- 
 nical performances in mathematicks. 
 That which is neceflarily to be known 
 to one that would ftudy thefe fciences 
 is Euclid's Elements, at leaft his firfl 
 fix books, arithmetick and trigonome- 
 try ; and without one's understanding 
 thefe, one may be a mechanift, but a 
 mathematician (hall he never be. For 
 flereometry, algebra, and conic fec- 
 tions, they require more fubtlety and 
 patience, than is to be expected from 
 youth, neither are they of fuch ufe. 
 
 For
 
 [69] 
 
 For the fubalternate faiences of the ma- 
 thematicks, it is necefTary to give a 
 youth a tafte of them. All the parts of 
 geometry and aftronomy he fould know 
 exactly, and be prompt in ufing and 
 managing inftruments. The theories 
 of muiick, fortification, dioptricks, and 
 the art of dialling, if the governour un- 
 derftand them well himfelfe, will be 
 eafily learned ; but architecture and fla- 
 tues are thefe which he muft know as 
 his fingers ; they being fo neceffary to 
 humane life ; fince all mechanifme de- 
 pends upon the force of motion ; and 
 in thefe there will be no difficulty. If 
 the youth have a delight in problemes 
 and theoremes, and be of ane active fan- 
 cy, it will be good to hook him as 
 much as can be to them ; for this is by 
 wife men judged a good advice for pre- 
 ferving a (late quiet, to engage the 
 F 3 young
 
 young nobility who have active fpirits, 
 to mathematical fciences, which carry- 
 ing their thoughts after them, will pre- 
 ferve them from ambition, and medling 
 with the ftate. But in this moderation 
 is to be obferved, leaft their brains be 
 too much flretched with thefe curiofi- 
 ties. 
 
 After the mathematicks are thus ex- 
 plained to the youth, he fould next be 
 acquainted with the hypothefes of phi- 
 lofophy. But to this I would not al- 
 low fo many moneths as we give yeeres ; 
 and the youth is only to be acquainted 
 with the feveral feds, and their chieiFe 
 grounds j but muft not be byafTed to 
 any j but left at liberty to chufe, in a 
 riper age, what mall feem moft futable 
 to nature's operations, and not to poor 
 pedantick fophiflry. 
 
 For
 
 For logick, I fee no ufe for it, ex- 
 cept with a great deal of pains and in- 
 duftry to teach youths fophiftry, or pe- 
 dantry at beft j and fince that triffling 
 way is now no more ufed by the learn- 
 ed world, I know not why it fould be 
 taught ; and at moft a week would be 
 the greateft tyme I fould allow for ex- 
 plaining the termes of it. 
 
 All difputing about philofophy I con- 
 demne ; the perfection whereof when 
 acquired, is to make a youth vainly 
 fubtile, and contentioufly jangling, and 
 may prove a meanne to ruine him as to 
 all other things. Natural hiftory there- 
 fore is all the philofophy I would have 
 infifted upon to youth ; which that he 
 may be the more delighted with, he 
 muft be furnifhed with fuch tooles and 
 inftruments as may be needful to trying 
 experiments. And thus may a youth 
 F 4 be
 
 be bred till he be eighteen yeares of 
 age : for all I have advifed, if he have 
 a wife and knowing governour, may 
 be taught in a (hort tyme. 
 
 As for his recreations, he fould be 
 accuftomed to all manly ones, fuch as 
 hunting, hawking, {hooting, archery 
 fifhing, riding horfes, and the like ; but 
 it will be fitt his governour goe with 
 him to thefe, and converfe much with 
 him, no more as a boy but as a man. 
 He fould be alfo ftudying to weanne 
 him from all fondnes of thefe exercifes, 
 and teach him to ufe them only as re- 
 creations, not making them his work 
 or delight. 
 
 For handling his armes, it is true the 
 Romans begun their youth with this 
 early : for at fourteen they laid afide 
 their pretexta or youthly garb, and gott
 
 [73] 
 
 a fhield given them ; and fo were train- 
 ed up in feats of armes and mock fights. 
 But I like better the cuftome of the 
 Carthaginians, wjio fuffered not their 
 youths to handle armes, till they were 
 paft twenty j and it feeds arrogance, 
 and expofeth them too much to con- 
 tention, to begin them fo foon with 
 this. 
 
 As for making vifits, he fould doc 
 it but feldome ; for frequency in this is 
 the greateft inlett to idlenes imaginable. 
 
 He fould alfo be further improven in 
 any of thefe pleafant things he is in- 
 clined to; fuch as mufick, mechanicks, 
 or the like. 
 
 For correcting him, that muft: be no 
 more thought upon ; for now muft he 
 be governed by reafon. But the beft 
 
 way
 
 [74] 
 
 way to make reproofts goe deep into 
 his heart, is in private to exprefle great 
 forrow to him for his faults : for this 
 natively done muft pierce him through, 
 if he be not of a favage temper j and if 
 he be of ane ingenuous nature, fome 
 tymes to give up with him, telling him 
 that he is no more to be fpoken to, will 
 prick him very fenfibly. 
 
 And fo much of the way for mana- 
 ging a youth, till he be eighteen or 
 nineteen yeeres of age j and after this 
 age his governour (hall lay downe that 
 name, and converfe with him as his 
 friend, and not as his pupill j whereby 
 may be his directions mall be more re- 
 garded. 
 
 He muft flill goe on with the chieffe 
 care ; improving him further in the un- 
 derflanding of divine matters and Scrip- 
 ture;
 
 [75] 
 
 ture j and mufl be giving him clear 
 and rationall accounts of his faith ; that 
 fo he may not receive his beleefe as a 
 mere traditionall matter, but taught to 
 build his perfuafions upon rationall 
 foundations. 
 
 He muft alfo teach him to be obferv- 
 ing what difcoveries of God appear in 
 all his works and waies, thereby uiing 
 him to ferious reflexions of what events 
 occurre j that by all things that emerge 
 he learne to admire God : and this is 
 the chieffe and higheft part of our fel- 
 lowfhip with the Father and his Son 
 Jefus Chrift. He fould alfo prefle him 
 much to devotion ; about which at this 
 age youths doe often become cool and 
 flack. A humble reverence and love to 
 God, fould be carefully recommend- 
 ed j and he fould be often remembered 
 
 of his defects herein. 
 
 Next
 
 Next a noble generofity of mind 
 fould be much preached to him ; that 
 he look not at mean or bafe things, 
 fuch as riches, honours, or fecular 
 greatnes ; but make vertue and noble 
 goodnes his chieffe defigne. 
 
 He muft alfo infufe in him a love 
 to his countrey, and duty to his prince ; 
 and that he abhorre broils and incen- 
 diaries ; that he liftenes not to any tatles 
 againft thefe in authority, efpecially of 
 the king. To infix this temper deep- 
 ly, in young nobility, may prove a 
 notable mean to keep the countrey 
 peaceable, loyall, and quiet; and to 
 drive away factions, and bafe felf feek- 
 ing from grandees. 
 
 He muft alfo recommend modefty 
 much to him, and a hatred of luft and 
 all impurity ; and that the rather if he 
 
 be robuft and hot blooded. 
 
 But
 
 [77] 
 
 But after and above all, he muft give 
 him many a lecture of humility and 
 felf diftruft : for at this age begin youths 
 to fvvell with a high opinion of them- 
 felves, and a value of their own parts, 
 joyned with a contempt of others j and 
 this, if not overcome, will deface all 
 the beauty of this fair fuperftructure. 
 For I account ane opiniaftrous and felfe 
 willed youth almoft quite loft. He 
 fould therefore often be told what a 
 poor thing man is j how little he 
 knows or can doe ; and how at beft he 
 is but one of God almightie his tools : 
 as alfo how fmall a matter learning is in 
 itfelfe, how valuable foever it be, com- 
 pared to other things j how few things 
 wee know j how all our knowledge 
 pierceth no deeper than the furface of 
 things ; how impoffible it is for a youth 
 to know how to governe himfelf. Thefe 
 things muft he hear upon both his ears. 
 
 And
 
 And fo much for his manners at this 
 age. 
 
 The things he is to learne are, firft, 
 difcretion, to know how to live in the 
 world ; how to converfe, to be filent, 
 to choofe friends, to find out peoples 
 humours ; and how to gain love, and 
 the like. Thefe he muft be well di- 
 redted in j for now muft he learne to 
 be a man, and live among them. The 
 Proverbs will doe well for this: and for 
 humane writers, the beft I know is the 
 fon of Sirach. 
 
 He muft alfo be taught to fpeak pro- 
 perly, and promptly : and for this caufe, 
 he fould begin to write eiTaies upon 
 every thing, to ufe himfelfe, while he 
 is alone, to difcourfe upon any fubjeft j 
 for this is the bed way to fmooth his 
 ftile, and to replenifh his mind with 
 
 good
 
 [79] 
 
 good thoughts and fancies. Now how 
 necefTary this is for all is eafy to guefle, 
 but chieffly for noblemen, who by ane 
 elegant exprefiion {hall become the 
 more confiderable both in parliament 
 and counfell. Wee fee the chiefFe in 
 all {rates have been the greateft orators, 
 as all hiftories afTure us. 
 
 For ftudy, if he retain and improve 
 in what he hath acquired, I fould 
 burden him with no more : yet if he 
 be of a compofed mind, and moderate 
 fpirit, to look difcreetly into chymif- 
 try, will be a huge addition to his other 
 parts, and may oblige him to love 
 home, and feek a retired life ; which 
 is alwaies the beft choice ; none being 
 ever fo fit for publicke affairs, as they 
 who (hun them, and feek privacy. But 
 if he be of a hot brain, and forward in 
 his acting, this will more prejudge 
 
 than
 
 [So] 
 
 than profite him, and may intangle 
 him fo as to ruinc his eftate, and fill 
 his head with doting fopperies. At 
 
 this age therefore ftudy fould be ufed 
 
 G . J 
 
 as a recreation. 
 
 But one's work fould be to know the 
 world 5 and therefore how retired fo- 
 ever I could wifh a youth were kept, 
 before this age, now fould he be much 
 abroad, and in all company j but chieff- 
 ly among vertuous and generous per- 
 fons. His govern our fould goe often 
 with him, to obferve and admonifh 
 him, of what efcapes he commits : but 
 this muft be told him privately, and 
 with all kyndnes. 
 
 He fould be allowed, according to 
 the advice of Solomon, all innocent 
 mirth and cheerfulnefs : but it is the 
 better the Icfle he converfe with women j 
 
 though
 
 though to be fometymes with the wife 
 and excellent of that fexe, be one of 
 the greateft helps for breeding. 
 
 He fould be made to abhor re all af- 
 feftation, either in his difcourfe or be- 
 haviour j for alwaies that which is mod 
 natural goes beft of. He fould be 
 taught to obferve a right mediocrity, 
 betwixt fimple modefty or rather timi- 
 iiity, and bluftring and forward confi- 
 dence. So much of a youth's breed- 
 ing- 
 
 And now having brought him to 
 the twenty firft year of his. age, where- 
 in by our law he is declared a man, 
 exempt from all infpeclion of others, 
 it is fit I alfo let him goe, and deliver 
 him from the yoke of a governour. But 
 as by our law till he be twenty five 
 years, he hath it in his choice to revoke 
 G what
 
 r 82} 
 
 what he did before he was twenty one 
 years old, I (hall therefore follow him 
 with my advyce to that age : all there- 
 fore that hath been formerly taught 
 him muft he now begin to confider ; 
 that he may both retain and improve 
 thofe documents which have been hi- 
 therto inftilled in him, and make choice 
 of thofe matters on which he intends 
 to beftow his own ftudy and labour. 
 But chieffly I wifli his advance in ver- 
 tue and ferioufnes ; that he begin deep- 
 ly to confider for what end he came in 
 to the world, and how he ought to 
 demean himfelf in it : and for this ef- 
 fect he {hall chufe fome noble and ver- 
 tuous friends, by whofe advice and di- 
 rection he may frame his actions ; a- 
 voiding the peftiferous company of dif- 
 folute perfons, and bafe flatterers. For 
 a virtuous friend is, next to a wife go- 
 vernour, the greateft bleffing of hu- 
 mane
 
 mane life. But how to choice and 
 ufe fuch is not my tafk at prefent. 
 
 The ftudy next fitt for him, is the 
 lawes and cuftomes of his countrey : 
 and without the knowledge of this, he 
 is but a poor nobleman or countrey man. 
 He muft therefore acquaint himfelfe 
 with the colledge of juftice, and ftudy 
 to get fome able lawyer to ftay a vaca- 
 tion with him, for inftru&ing him in 
 the forms of law : for this is neceflary 
 both to the management of his private 
 fortune, and to fit him for publicke 
 employment, when he is called to it. 
 
 Next he muft learne to underftand 
 his own affairs ; not trufting them to 
 chamberlaines or fervants, but manag- 
 ing them himfelfe : and therefore pa- 
 rents, at this age, fould acquaint their chil- 
 dren with the ftate of their affairs, and 
 G 2 com-
 
 t 4] 
 
 commit to their care fuch portions Of 
 their fortune as they may beft fpare ; 
 that thereby they may fee what go- 
 vernement they have, and may know 
 how to antidote their inclinations, if 
 they be either too profufe or too faving. 
 
 After this I would defire him to fludy 
 agriculture, and the waies of improving 
 ground, and begin to keep nurferies, 
 and to inclofe ground : for this is both 
 ane honeft and profitable exercife, and 
 full of pleafure ; which may alfo draw 
 a man to love home ; a necelTary matter 
 to young men. 
 
 He muft alfo ftudy the intereft of his 
 country ; that he may confider wherein 
 it may be advantaged. And for this 
 end he is to acquaint himfelfe with ma- 
 nufactories ; that he may know what 
 are wanting, whi'ch may be fet up in 
 
 the
 
 the countrey j as alfo what better tools 
 and waies are for managing thefe that 
 be among us. 
 
 He fhould alfo learne to manage his 
 armes ; but to train him a fouldier, is 
 to fubvert from the foundations all the 
 pains hath been beftowed upon him. 
 For a camp, unlefs he be under a vertu- 
 ous commander, is a Sodom for a young 
 man. To be able and refolute for the 
 defence of his countrey, is necefTary 
 for a perfon of quality: but to be a 
 fouldier of fortune, is both ane unvertu- 
 ous and ungentlemany courfe of life. 
 
 Only politics he muft not fludy j nor 
 learne intrigues, except it be for mere 
 information -, for a young man is not 
 capable of that difcretion which is re- 
 quifite for the management of affairs. 
 Though he may be perhaps fnfficiently 
 G 3 able
 
 t 86] 
 
 able to contrive and fuggeft good coun- 
 cells, yet there is a certain futlenefs, 
 clofenes, and leger de main requisite in 
 a ftates man, which a young man can-- 
 not know how to pradlyfe. Yet I would 
 have him much in the company of 
 grave and wife men. 
 
 And hitherto I have adventured to 
 fett downe my thoughts of the manner 
 of guiding children. Further I need 
 not, nor ought not, to goe. I need 
 not : for he who cannot manage him- 
 felfe at twenty five is pad help and 
 hope, unlefTe God work mightily upon 
 him. I ought not ; becaufe wanting 
 yet fome moneths of twenty five, I 
 fould be grofsly impertinent to give di- 
 rection how to behave in ane age, the ex- 
 perience whereof I have never had. And 
 fo farre have I adventured to trefpaffe 
 upon your leifure and patience : but 
 
 having
 
 having feen fo much of your goodnes, 
 I know there is no need of manny 
 words to befpeak my pardon. Befides 
 I know even the bablings of friends are 
 pleating. Excufe the boldnes of this 
 title to which I lay claime : and indeed 
 the manny dear prooffs you have given 
 of the true, though ill merited, friend- 
 fhip you bear me, makes me without 
 fcruple allure myfelfe I am fo happy as 
 to have fome (hare in your heart; which 
 I have more reafon to be pleafed with 
 than the Romans when fcatues were 
 creeled for them in the capitole. Par- 
 don, therefore, pardon, my generous and 
 noble friend, the trouble this hath given 
 you, and believe that it flows from one 
 whofe heart is yours, and who counts 
 his thoughts and pen well employed, 
 when they are exercifed in any thing 
 that relates to you : and believe me I 
 fliall follicite Heaven for no greater 
 G 4 bleiTing,
 
 [88] 
 
 bleffing, in things of that nature, than 
 to fee all your dear (dear, becaufe they 
 are yours) children, the worthy imita- 
 tors, and true refemblances of yourfelfe. 
 
 It will appear at firft view, that I 
 have fent you rather a modell of what 
 is to be wifhed, than of what is pracli- 
 cable in educating youth ; and that thefe 
 are but ch-imereque ideas. But if you 
 once hitt upon a wife governour, who 
 is I confeffe one of a thoufand, you 
 fhall fee the difficulty and not the fol- 
 lowing of thefe precepts, is only chime- 
 rique, and that even the dulleft, and 
 moft indocile boy may, by a cunning 
 artifan, be made a polithed man. I re- 
 commend you therefore in this, as in all 
 your other concerns to the bleffing and 
 direction of the only wife God : which 
 I pray may be the everlafting portion of 
 both yourfelfe and children. Adieu. 
 
 Ere
 
 Ere I abfolutely difmifs thefe though ts^ 
 I mall give you alfo my opinion of the 
 ordinary way of breeding young gentle- 
 men by fending them to travel. 
 
 If the youth be bred for a court, and 
 of a rank that he may probably be fent 
 an ambaffador, or appointed to negociate 
 forrein affairs, then it is neceflary he 
 travel : but otherwife I cannot fee why 
 one mall travell France and Italy, to 
 learne to live in Scotland. All the good 
 moft can have in travell, is to look from, 
 them, and fee manny fundry faces and 
 places ; which as it is a poor fatisfac- 
 tion, carrying little or no profit with if, 
 fo it engages on ftill to a further curio- 
 fity, of which there (hall be no end. 
 Further, he fees manny men ; but thefe 
 are for moft part only the canaille ; fuch 
 as ufe ordinarys : or if he comes to 
 know perfons of worth ; thefe will treat 
 
 him
 
 1 90 ] 
 
 him but as a ftranger, and converfe with 
 him in fuch general purpofes, as mall 
 informe him but little. And flnce a 
 traveller muft not flay long in one place, 
 he (hall but begin to know them when 
 he muft leave them. 
 
 For learned men, except it be the airy 
 vanity to fay wee faw them, by reading 
 their books wee can hear more from 
 them, than wee may hope for, from 
 their difcourfe. 
 
 It is true great change and daily va- 
 riety of company, doth rub off all rufti- 
 city, and give a garb, and teach a good 
 behaviours and this is all moft doe or 
 can pretend to. But if a fhort fatisfac- 
 tion, which is foon forgotten, or a garb 
 which, not fuiting with the humour of 
 the countrey, muft be laid afide ere the 
 the French clothes be worn out, de- 
 
 ferves 
 4
 
 [9O 
 
 ferves to be once fet in competition 
 againft the almoft certain hafards a tra- 
 veller is expofed to, let all wife men 
 judge. And firft, that peft of atheifme, 
 which now rageth beyond fea, is a ha- 
 fard few efcape ; all the wits there 
 counting it their glory, to turn the myf- 
 terys of faith, fcriptures, and piety in 
 ridicule. Some yeeres agoe there wa s 
 a hafard of gentlemen their returning 
 papifts : but now wee may rather ex- 
 peel: to get them home atheifts ; fmce 
 there is, in this depraved compound of 
 a man, a farre ftronger byafle to athe. 
 ifme than to popery. 
 
 And as for a corruption of their man- 
 ners, why fould not that be looked upon 
 as affured, among a people who have 
 made their greateit ftudy, ane unmanly 
 idolifing of women, and where unclean- 
 nefs is thought but a fport j neither is 
 
 a man
 
 [ 92 J 
 
 a man judged in fafhion if he keep not 
 a courtifan, and where the dialed of 
 fpeech is to fweare with open mouth ; 
 and by all, even thofe who are not athe- 
 ifts in principle, a fenfe of God and 
 piety is hilled at and forgotten. 
 
 I mention not the hafards from duel- 
 lers and robbers, fmce by the king's fe- 
 verity thefe are not now fo frequent; 
 neither fhall I much confider the im- 
 poveriming the kingdopie, by carrying 
 fa much money beyond fea ; nor the 
 ruine of eftates occafioned by travell : 
 for thefe are confutations without my 
 road. But there is one thing further 
 confiderable, that by travelling, and fee- 
 ing fine and high things, they are made 
 to loath and weary of home. 
 
 Upon all thefe accounts I exceedingly 
 difapproove young men their travelling. 
 
 Yet
 
 t 93 ] 
 
 Yet a perfon of a mature fpirit, and ripe 
 judgment, who is well confirmed in his 
 religion, and hath a true fenfe of piety 
 and vertue, and is not of a light or gad- 
 ding mind, but doth know what to ob- 
 ferve and fearch after, if he be well re- 
 commended, may after he is twenty 
 one yeeres of age, with much advantage, 
 fpend a year or two abroad. For he 
 may be made capable of larger and freer 
 thoughts ; and may learne to know 
 more of the world and of mankind ; as 
 alfo he may fee a great manny ufeful 
 things, which our countrey doth not 
 afford ; and by feing even the fined 
 things in the world, he may arrive at a 
 more juft under (landing of what is belt 
 on earth, and fo be taught to contemne 
 it. And with the help of effectual 
 recommendations (for complimenting 
 ones are not worth carying) he may get 
 the acquaintance of worthy and wife 
 3 perfons,
 
 [94] 
 
 perfons, who may prove kind and good 
 directors to him. But what I fay of 
 travelling, I mean only of running be- 
 yond fea j for fince wee have not now 
 a king or court in Scotland, it is very 
 proper that the gentlemen be well ac- 
 quainted with the court of England - y 
 though there be manny things there> 
 that make me wiih even a fhort flay 
 among them. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 O F 
 
 ANCIENT POETRY, 
 
 Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, 
 
 AND 
 
 Tranflated from the Galic or Erfe Language. 
 
 Vos qnoque qitl fortes animas, belloqtee peremtat 
 'Laudibin in longum vates dimittitis tevum t 
 Plurima fecwi fudiftts carniina Bardi. 
 
 LUCAN. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 'Printed for G. HAMILTON and J. BALFOUR, 
 MDCCLX.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE public may depend on the 
 following fragments as genuine 
 remains of ancient Scottish poetry. The 
 date of their compofition cannot be ex- 
 actly afcertained. Tradition, in the 
 country where they were written, refers 
 them to- an aera of the mod remote anti- 
 quity : and this tradition is fupported by 
 the fpirit and ftrain of the poems thein- 
 felves ; which 1 abound with thofe 
 ideas, and paint thofe manners, that 
 belong to the mofl early ft ate of fo- 
 ciety. The diction too, in the origi- 
 nal, is very obfolete ; and differs wide- 
 ly from the ftyle of fuch poems as have 
 been written in the fame -language two 
 or three centuries ago. They were cer- 
 tainly compofed before the eflsblifh- 
 A. 2 menfc.
 
 ment of clan (hip in the northern part 
 of Scotland, which is itfelf very an- 
 cient ; for had clans been then formed 
 and known, they rauft have made a con- 
 fid enable figure in the work of a Highland 
 Bard ; whereas there is not the lead men- 
 tion of them in thefe poems. It is remark - 
 .able that there are found in. them noailu- 
 fions to the Chriitian religion of worship ;, 
 indeed, few traces of religion of any kind. 
 .One circum fiance feems to prove them 
 to be coeval with the very infancy of 
 .Chriilianity in Scotland, In a frag- 
 ment of the fame poems, which the 
 tranflator has feen, a Culdee or- Monk 
 is reprefented as defirous to take down 
 in writing from the mouth of Ofcian, 
 who is the principal perfonage in feveral 
 of the following fragments, his warlike 
 atchievements and thofe of his family. 
 But Ofcian treats the monk and his reli- 
 gion with difdain, telling him, that the 
 deeds of fuch gseat men wers fubjects too 
 
 high
 
 "high to be recorded by him> or by any 
 of his religion : A full proof that 
 Chriftianity was not as yet eftablifhed 
 in the country. 
 
 Though the poems now publi&ed 
 appear as detached pieces in this col- 
 leftion, there is ground to believe that 
 mod of them were originally epi&des 
 of a greater work which related to the 
 wars of Fingal. Concerning this hero 
 innumerable traditions remain, to this 
 day, in the Highlands of Scotland, The 
 ftory of Ofcian, his fon, is fo generally 
 known, that to delcribe one in whom 
 the race of a great family ends, it has 
 patted into a proverb ; " Ofcian the lad 
 " of the heroes." 
 
 There can be no doubt that thefe 
 poems are to be afcribed to the Bards ; 
 a race of men well known to have conti- 
 nued throughout many ages in Ireland 
 
 and
 
 and the north of Scotland. Every chief 
 or great man had in his family a Bard or 
 poet, whofe office it was to record ia 
 verie, the illuftrious aclions of that fa<- 
 mily. By the fucceffion of thefe Bards, 
 fuch poems were handed down from race 
 to race; fome in manufcript, but more 
 by oral tradition. And tradition, in a 
 country fo free of intermixture with fo- 
 reigners, and among a people fo flrong* 
 ly attached to the memory of their an- 
 ceftors, has preferved many of them in 
 a great meafure incorrupted to this day* 
 
 They are not fet to muilc, nor fung. 
 The verification in the original is- 
 iimple ; and to fuch as underftand the 
 language, very fmooth and beautiful; 
 Rhyme is feldom ufed : but the cadence, 
 and the length of the line varied, fo as to 
 fuit the fenfe. The tranflation is ex- 
 tremely literal. Even the arrangement 
 of the words in the original has been 
 
 imitated -,
 
 [ vii ] 
 
 imitated; to which muft be imputed 
 fome inverfions in the ftyle, that other- 
 wife would not have been cbofen. 
 
 Of the poetical merit of thefe frag- 
 ments nothing fhall here be faid. Let 
 the public judge, and pronounce. It 
 is believed, that, -by a careful inquiry, 
 many more remains of .ancient genius, 
 no lefs valuable than thoie now given 
 to the world, might be found in the 
 fame country where thefe have been 
 collected. In particular there .is reafon 
 to hope that one work of confiderable 
 length, and which deferves to be flyled 
 an heroic poem, might be recovered and 
 tranflated, if encouragement were given 
 to fuch an undertaking. The fub- 
 jeft is, an invaflon of Ireland by 
 Swarthan King of Lochlyn ; which is 
 the name of Denmark in the Erfe* lan- 
 guage. Cuchulaid, the General or Chief 
 ofthe Irifh tribes, upon intelligence of the 
 
 invafion,
 
 t 
 
 invafiou, affembles his forces. Councils 
 are held ; and battles fought, But af- 
 ter feveral unfuccefsful engagements, 
 the Irifh are forced to fubmit. At 
 length, Fin gal King of Scotland, called 
 in this poem, " The Defert of the hills," 
 arrives with his fliips to affift Cuchu- 
 laid. He expels the Danes from the 
 country ; and -returns home victorious. 
 This poem is held to be of greater anti- 
 quity than any of the reft that are pre- 
 fcrved : And the author fpeaks of him- 
 felf as prefcot in the expedition of Fin- 
 gal. The three lail poems in th-e collec- 
 tion are fragments which the -tranflator 
 obtained of fchis-qpic poem ; and though' 
 very impelled, they we-i^e judged not 
 unworthy of being -i-nferted. If the 
 whole were recovered, it might ferve to 
 throw confiderable light upon the Scot- 
 tifh and Jr-ifli antiquities. 
 
 FR AG-
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 i, 
 
 S H I L R I C, V I N V E L A. 
 
 V I N V E L A. 
 
 Y love is a fon of the hilL 
 He purfues the flying deer. 
 His grey dogs are panting 
 around him ; his bow-firing founds in 
 the wind. Whether by the fount of 
 the rock, or by the dream of the 
 mountain thou Heft; when the rufhes are 
 nodding with the wind, and the mid 
 is flying over thee, let me approach 
 my love unperceived, and fee him 
 from the rock. Lovely I faw thee 
 firft by the aged oak ; thou wert re* 
 turning tall from the chace ; the faireft 
 among thy friends. 
 
 B SHILRIC?
 
 'S H I L R I C. 
 
 "WHAT voice is that T hear? that 
 
 voice like the fummer-wind. 1 fit 
 
 not by the nodding rufhes; I hear not 
 the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela, 
 afar I go to the wars of Fingal. My 
 dogs attend me no more. No more 
 I tread the hill. No more from n 
 high I fee thee, fair-moving by the 
 flream of the plain ; bright as the 
 bow of heaven ; as die moon on the 
 weflern wave. 
 
 VINVELA. 
 
 THEN thou art gone, O Shilric! 
 and I am alone on the hill. The 
 deer are feen on the brow ; void of 
 fear they graze along. No more they 
 dread the wind j no more the ruftlino- 
 
 o 
 
 tree. The hunter is far removed; 
 
 he
 
 he is in the field of graves. Stran- 
 gers ! fons of the waves ! fpare my. 
 lovely Shilric. 
 
 SH i L R i c. 
 
 IF fall I moil in the field, raile higrr 
 my grave, Vinvela. Grey ft ones, and 
 heaped-up earth, {hall mark me to future 
 times. When the hunter fhall fit by 
 the mound, and produce his food at 
 noon, " fome warrior refts here," he 
 will fay; and my fame fhall live in his - 
 praife. Remember me, Vinvela, when - 
 low on earth I lie ! 
 
 VINVELA. 
 
 YES ! I will remember thee indeed : 
 my Shilric will fall. What (hall I do,... 
 my love ! when thou art gone for ever ? 
 Through thefe hills I will go at noon : 
 will go through the filent heath. The^e- 
 B 2 I
 
 [ I* J 
 
 I will fee where often thou fatteft return^ 
 ing from the chace. Indeed, my Shil- 
 ric will fall; but I will rcaiembcs 
 him a
 
 If. 
 
 T SIT by the moffy fountain-* on the 
 top of the hill of winds. One tree is 
 ruftling above me. Dark waves roll 
 over the heath. The lake is troubled 
 below. The deer defcend from the 
 hill. No hunter at a diftance is feen ; 
 no whittling cow-herd is nigh. It is 
 mid- day : but all is filent. Sad are my 
 thoughts as I fit alone. Didft thou 
 but appear, O my love, a wanderer on 
 the heath ! thy hair floating on the 
 wind behind thee ; thy bofom heaving 
 on the fight ; thine eyes full of tears 
 for thy friends, whom the mid of the 
 hill had concealed ! Thee I would com- 
 fort, my love, and bring thee to thy 
 father's houfc. 
 
 BUT is it fhe that there appears, like 
 a beam of light on the heath ? bright 
 
 as
 
 [ '4 1 
 
 as the moon in autumn, as the fun in 
 a fummer-florm ? She fpeaks: but 
 how weak her voice ! like the breeze 
 in the reeds of the pool. Hark I 
 
 RET URNEST thou fafe from the war-?. 
 Where are thy friends, my love ? I 
 heard of thy death on the hill ; I heard 
 and mourned thee, Shilric ! 
 
 YES, my fair, I return ; but I alone 
 of my race. Thou fhalt fee them no 
 more: their graves I raifed on the plain. 
 But why art thou on the defert hill ? 
 why on the heath, alone? 
 
 ALONE lam, O Shilric! alone in the 
 winter-houfe. With grief for thee I ex- 
 pired. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb,. 
 
 SHE fleets, fhe fails away ; as grey 
 mift before the wind ! and, wilt thou 
 
 not
 
 I 15 ] 
 
 not flay, my love? Stay and behold 
 my tears ? fair thou appeared, my love ! 
 fair thou waft, when alive! 
 
 BY the mofly fountain I will fit j on 
 the top of the hill of winds. When 
 mid-day is filent around, converfe, O 
 my love, with me ! come on the wings 
 of the gale ! on the blaft of the moun- 
 tain, come ! Let me hear thy voice, as 
 thou pafTeft, when mid-day is filent a- 
 round. 

 
 I 16 ] 
 
 III. 
 
 is grey on the hills. The 
 north wind rcfounds through the 
 woods. White clouds rife on the fky: the 
 tremblingfnow defcends. The river howls 
 
 O 
 
 afar, along its winding courfe. Sad, 
 by a hollow rock, the grey-hair'd Carry! 
 fat. Dry fern waves over his head ; his 
 feat is in an aged birch. Clear to the 
 roaring winds he lifts his voice of woe. 
 
 TOSSED on the wavy ocean is He, 
 the hope of the ifles ; Malcolm, the 
 fupport of the poor ; foe to the proud 
 in arms ! Why haft thou left us behind ? 
 why live we to mourn thy fate ? We 
 might have heard, with thee, the voice 
 of the deep ; have feen the oozy rock. 
 
 SAD on the fea-beat fhore thy fpoufe 
 looketh for thy return. The time of 
 
 thy
 
 [ '7 ] 
 
 thy promife is come ; the night is ga^ 
 tittering around. Buc no white fail is 
 on the Tea ; no voice is heard except 
 the bluflering winds. Low is the foul 
 of the war ! Wet are the locks of youth !- 
 By the foot of fome rock thou lieft > 
 waflied by the waves as they come. 
 "Why, ye winds, did ye bear him on 
 the defert rock? 'Why, ye waves, did. 
 ye roll over him ? 
 
 BUT, Oh! what voice is that? 
 Who rides on that meteor of fire ! Green 
 are his airy limbs. It is he ! it is the 
 ghoft of Malcolm ! Reft, lovely foul, 
 reft on ihe rock j and let me hear thy 
 voice ! He is gone, like a dream of 
 the ni<2;ht. I fee him through the trees. 
 
 o o 
 
 Daughter of Reynold I he is gone. 
 Thy fpoufe fhail return no more. No 
 more ihall his hounds come from the 
 hill, forerunners of their m-auer. N"> 
 more from the difrant rock ihall his 
 C voy. 7
 
 voice greet thine ear. Silent is he in 
 the deep, unhappy daughter of Rey- 
 nold ! 
 
 I will fit by the ftream of the plain. 
 Ye rocks! hang over my head. Hear 
 my voice, ye trees ! as ye bend on the 
 ihaggy hill. My voice fhall preferve 
 the praife of him, the hope of the 
 ifles.
 
 [ 19 ] 
 IV. 
 
 WH O cometh from the hill, like 
 a cloud tinged with the beam 
 of the weft ? Whofe voice is that, loud 
 as the wind, but pleafant as the harp of 
 Carryl? It is my love in the light of 
 flee! ; but fad is his darkened brow. 
 Live the mighty race of Fingal? or 
 what difturbs my Connal ? 
 
 CONN A L. 
 
 THEY live. I faw them return from 
 
 the chace, like a dream of light. The 
 
 fun was on their fhields : In a line they 
 
 defcended the hill. Loud is the voice of 
 
 C 2 the
 
 L 2 = 3 
 
 the youth; the war, my love, is near. 
 To-morrow the enormous Darcro comes 
 
 *> 
 
 to try the force of our race. The race of 
 FingaLhe defies ; the race of. battle aiid 
 
 wounds. 
 
 C R I M O R A. 
 
 CONN A L , I faw his fails like grey mi ft 
 on the fable wave. They came to land. 
 Connal, many are the warriors of 
 JDargo ! 
 
 CON N AL. 
 
 BR i N G me thy father's fliield j theiron 
 fhield of Rinval ; that fliield like the 
 full moon when it is darkened in the 
 fky. 
 
 CRIMORA,
 
 CRIMORA. 
 
 THAT fhi eld -I bring, O Connal; but 
 it did not defend my father. By the 
 fpear of Gauror he fell. Thou mayfl 
 fall, O Connal I 
 
 FALL indeed I may: But raife my 
 tomb, Crimora. Some (tones, a mound 
 of earth, fhall keep my memory. 
 Though fair thou art, my love, as the 
 light; more pleafant than the gale of 
 the hill ; yet I will not flay. Raife my 
 tomb, Crimora. 
 
 CR i M OR A. 
 
 THEN give me thofe arms of light ; 
 that fword, and that fpear of fleel. I 
 (hall meet Dargo with thee, and aid my 
 
 lovely
 
 f ] 
 
 lovely Connal. Farewell, ye rocks of 
 Ardven ! ye deer ! and ye flreams of 
 the hill ! We fhall return no more. 
 Our tombs are diflant far.
 
 V. 
 
 A UTUMN is dark on the mountains ; 
 grey mift refts on the hills. The 
 whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark 
 rolls the river through the narrow plain. 
 A tree (lands alone on the hill, and 
 marks the grave of Connal. The leaves 
 whirl round with the wind, and ftrcw 
 the grave of the dead. At times are 
 feen here the ghofls of the deceafed, 
 when the mufing hunter alone (talks 
 flov.ly over the heath. 
 
 WHO can reach the fource of thy 
 race, O Connal? and who recount thy 
 Fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak 
 on the mountain, which meeteth the 
 wind with its lofty head. But now it 
 is torn from the earth. Who fhall fup- 
 ply the place of Connal ? 
 
 HERE
 
 HERE was the din of arms; ant! 
 here the groans of the dying. Mourn- 
 ful are the wars of Fingal ! O Connal ! 
 it was here thou didit fall. Thine arm 
 was like a dorm ; thy fvvord, a beam 
 of the fky ; thy height, a rock on the 
 plain ; thine eyes, a furnace of fire. 
 Louder than a florin was thy voice, 
 when thou confoundedft the field. War- 
 riors fell by thy fword, as the thifile by 
 the flaffof a boy. 
 
 DARGO the mighty came on, like a 
 cloud of thunder. His brows were con- 
 tracted and dark. His eves like two 
 
 J 
 
 caves in a rock. Bright rofe their 
 fivords on each fide j dire was the clang 
 of their ft eel. 
 
 THE daughter of Rinval was near ; 
 Crimora, bright in the armour of man ; 
 her hair loofe behind, her bow in her 
 hand. She followed the youth to the 
 
 war,
 
 [ 25 ) 
 
 war, Connal her much beloved. She 
 drew the firing on Dargo ; but erring^ 
 pierced her Connal. He falls like an 
 oak on the plain j like a rock from the 
 fnaggy hill. What iliall fhe do, hap- 
 lefs maid ! He bleeds j her Connal dies. 
 All the night long fhe cries, and all the 
 day, O Connal, my love, and my 
 friend! With grief the fad mourner 
 died. 
 
 EARTH here inclofeth the lovelieft 
 pair on the hill. The grafs grows be- 
 tween the ftones of their tomb j I fit in 
 the mournful fhade. The wind fighs 
 through the grafs; and their memory 
 rufhes on my mind. Undillurbed you 
 now fleep together ; in the tomb of the 
 mountain you reft alone. 
 
 D VI.
 
 VI. 
 
 CON of the noble Fingal, Ofcian, 
 Prince of men ! what tears run down 
 the cheeks of age ? what ihades thy 
 mighty foul ? 
 
 MEMORY, fon of Alpin, memory 
 wounds the aged. Of former times are 
 my thoughts j my thoughts are of the 
 noble Fingal. The race of the king re- 
 turn into my mind,, and wound me with 
 remembrance. 
 
 ONE day, returned from the fport of 
 the mountains, from purfuing the fons 
 of the hill, we covered this heath with 
 our youth. Fingal the mighty was here,, 
 and Oicur, my fon, great in war. Fair 
 on our fight from the fea, at once, a 
 virgin came. Her breaft was like the 
 .mow of one night. Her cheek like the 
 
 bud
 
 I 27 ] 
 
 bud of the rofe. Mild was her blue 
 rolling eye: but forrow was big in her 
 heart. 
 
 FINGAL renowned in war! fhe cries, 
 Tons of the king, preferve me ! Speak fe- 
 -cure, replies the king, daughter of beau- 
 ty, fpeak : our ear is open to all : our 
 fwords redrefs the injured. I fly from 
 Ullin, fhe cries, from Ullin famous in 
 war. I fly from the embrace of him 
 who would debafe my blood. Cremor, 
 the friend of men, was -my father ; Cre- 
 mor the Prince of Inverne. 
 
 FINGAL'S younger fons arofe; Carryl 
 expert in the bow ; Fillan beloved of 
 the fair; and Fergus firft in the race, 
 Who from the fartheft Lochlyn ? 
 who to the feas of Molochafquir ? who 
 dares hurt the maid whom the fons of 
 Fingal guard ? Daughter of beauty, reft 
 D 2
 
 fecure ;! reft. in peace, them faireft of wo- 
 men. 
 
 FAR in the blue diftance of the deep, 
 fome fpot appeared like the back of the 
 ridge-wave. But foon the fliip increafed 
 on our fight. The hand of Ullin drew 
 her to land. The mountains trembled 
 as he moved. The hills (hook at his 
 fteps. Dire rattled his armour .around 
 him. Death and deftruction were in his 
 eyes. His flature like the roe of Mor- 
 ven. He moved in the lightning of 
 fleel. 
 
 OUR warriours fell before him, 
 like the field before the reapers. Fin- 
 gal's three fons he bound. He plun- 
 ged his fword into the fair-one's bread.. 
 She fell as a wreath of fnow before the 
 fun in fpring. Her bofom heaved in 
 .death ; her foul came forth in blood. 
 
 OSCUR
 
 my fbn came down ; the- 
 mighty in battle defcended. His armour 
 rattled as thunders and the lightning of 
 his eyes was terrible. There, was the 
 clafhing of fwords; there, was the voice, 
 of (leel. They ftruck and they thruft ; 
 they digged for death with their fwords. 
 -But death was diftant far, and delayed 
 to come. The fun began to decline; 
 and the cow-herd thought of home. 
 Then Ofcur's keen fleel found the heart 
 of Ullin. He fell like a mountain-oak 
 covered over with glittering froft : He 
 
 fhone like a rock on the plain. 
 
 Here the daughter of beauty lieth; and 
 here the braveft of men. Here one 
 day ended the fair and the valiant. 
 Here reft the purfuer and the pur- 
 fued. 
 
 SON of Alpin ! the woes of the aged 
 are many : their tears are for the paft. 
 This raifed my forrow, w ardour j me- 
 mory
 
 3 ] 
 
 mory awaked my grief. Ofcur my 
 fon was brave ; but Ofcur is now no 
 more. Thou haft heard my grief, O 
 ion of Alpin; forgive the tears of the 
 aged.
 
 L 3 1 ] 
 
 VII. 
 
 YI7HY opened thou afrefh the fpring of 
 my grief, O fon of Alpin, inquiring 
 how Ofcur fell ? My eyes are blind with 
 tears j but memory beams on my heart. 
 How can I relate the mournful death- of 
 the head of the people! Prince of the 
 warriours, Ofcur my fon, fhail I fee thee 
 no more ! 
 
 HE fell as the moon in a dorm; as 
 the fun from- the midil of his courfe, 
 when clouds rife from the wafte of the 
 waves, when the blacknefs of the dorm 
 in wraps the rocks of Ardannider. I, like 
 an ancient oak on Mrven, I moulder 
 alone in my place. The blaft hath lop- 
 ped my branches away ; and I tremble 
 at the wings of the north. Prince of 
 the warriors, Ofcur my fon ! fliall I fee 
 thee no mere I 
 
 DERM ID
 
 [ 32 J 
 
 DERM ID and Ofcur were one : They 
 reaped the battle together. Their 
 friendfhip was ftrong as their fleel ; and 
 death walked between them to the field. 
 They came on the foe like two rocks 
 falling from the brows of Ardven. Their 
 fwords were flained with the blood of 
 the valiant: warriours fainted at their- 
 names. Who was a match for OfcuE, 
 but Dermi-d ? and who for Dermid, but 
 Ofcur ? 
 
 THEY killed mighty Dargo in the 
 field j Dargo before invincible. His 
 daughter was fair as the morn ; mild 
 as the beam of night. Her eyes, like 
 two flars in a ihovver : her breath, the 
 gale of fpring : ker breads, as the new- 
 fallen fnow floating on the moving heath. 
 The warriours faw her, and loved 5 their 
 fouls were fixed on the maid. Each 
 loved her, as his fame; each mud pof- 
 fefs her or die, But her foul was fixed 
 
 on
 
 1 33 ] 
 
 -on Ofcur ; my fon was the youth of 
 her love. She forgot the blood of her 
 father ; and loved the hand that flew 
 him. 
 
 SON of Ofcian, faid Dermid, Hove; 
 O Ofcur, I love this maid. But her 
 foul cleaveth unto thee ; and nothing 
 can heal Dermid. Here, pierce this 
 bofom, Ofcur ; relieve me, my friend, 
 with thy fvvord. 
 
 MY fword, fon of Moray, (hall ne- 
 ver be (lained with the blood of Der- 
 mid. 
 
 WHO then is worthy to flay me, O 
 Ofcur fon of Ofcian ? Let not my life 
 pafs away unknown-. Let none but Of- 
 cur flay me. Send me with honour to 
 the grave, and let my death be renown- 
 ed/ 
 
 E DERMID,
 
 34 1 
 
 DERM ID, make ufe of thy fword; 
 fon of Morny, wield thy fteel. Would 
 that I fell with thee ! that my death 
 came from the hand cf Dermid! 
 
 THEY fought by the brook of the 
 mountain ; by the dreams of Branno. 
 Blood tinged the filvery dream, and 
 .crudled round the mofly flones. Der- 
 mid the graceful fell} fell, and fmiled in 
 death. 
 
 AND failed thou, fon of Morny ; 
 failed thou by Ofcur's hand ! Dermid 
 invincible in war, thus do I fee thee fall-! 
 -He went, and returned to the maid 
 whom he loved j returned, but fhe per- 
 ceived his grief. * 
 
 WHY that gloom, fon of Ofcian? 
 what fhades thy mighty foul ? 
 
 THOUGH once renowned for the bow, 
 
 O
 
 [ 35 ] 
 
 O maid, I have loft my fame. Fixed on 
 a tree by the brook of the hill, is the 
 fhield of Gormur the brave, whom in 
 battle I flew. I have wafted the day 
 in vain, nor could rny arrow pkrce it. 
 
 LET me try, fon of Olcian, the fkill 
 of Dargo's daughter. My hands were 
 taught the bow : my father delighted in 
 
 jny ikill. 
 
 SHE went. He flood behind the 
 fhield. Her arrow new aud pierced his 
 breaft *. 
 
 * Nothing was held by the ancient Highlanders more 
 eflential to their glory, than to die by the hand of fome 
 perfon worthy or renowned. This was the occafion 
 of Ofcur's contriving to be flain by his miftrefs, now 
 that he was weary of life. In thofe early times 
 filicide was utterly unknown among that people, arid 
 no traces of it are found in the old poetry. Whence 
 the translator fufpcfts the account that follows of the 
 daughter of Dargo killing herfelf, to be the interpola- 
 tion of fome later Bard. 
 
 T- -P 
 
 E 2 BI.TSSED
 
 [ 36 ] 
 
 BLESSED be that hand of fnow ; and 
 blefied thy bow of yew ! I fall refolved 
 on death : and who but the daughter of 
 Dargo was worthy to flay me ? Lay me 
 in the earth, my fair-one ; lay me by 
 the fide of Dermid. 
 
 OSGUR! I have the blood, the foul- 
 f the mighty Dargo. Well pleafed I 
 can meet death. My forrow I can end 
 
 thus. She pierced her white bofom 
 
 with fleel. She fell; ihe trembled j. and 
 died- 
 
 BY the brook of the hill their graves 
 are laid ; a birch's unequal fhade covers 
 their tomb. Often on their green earth- 
 en, tombs the branchy fons of the moun- 
 tain feed, when, mid-day is all in flames,, 
 aud fileiice is over all the hills.
 
 VIJL 
 
 i Y the fide of a rock on the hill,, be- 
 neath the aged trees, old Ofcian 
 fat on the mofs ; the laft of the race of 
 Fingal. Sightlefs are his aged eyes ; 
 his beard is waving in the wind. Dull 
 through, the leaflefs trees he heard the 
 voice of the north. Sorrow revived in 
 his foul : he began and lamented the 
 dead. 
 
 Haw haft thou fallen like an oak, 
 with all thy branches round thee! Where 
 is Fingal the King? where is Ofcur my 
 fon? where are all my race? Alas! in 
 the earth they lie, I feel their tombs 
 with my hands. I hear the river below 
 murmuring hoarfely over the ftones. 
 What doft thou, O river, to me ? Thou 
 bringefl back the memory of the pad.. 
 
 THE
 
 t 38 ] 
 
 THE race of Fingal flood on thy 
 banks, like a wood in a fertile foil. 
 Keen were their fpears of fteel. Hardy 
 was he who dared to encounter their 
 rage. Fillan the great was there. Thou 
 Ofcur wert there, my fon 1 Fingal him- 
 felf was there, flrong in the grey locks 
 of years. Full rofe his fmewy limbs ; 
 and wide his {houlders fpread. The 
 unhappy met with his arm, when the 
 pride of his wrath arofe. 
 
 
 
 THE fon of Morny came ; Gaul, the 
 talleft of men. He ftood on the hill like 
 an oak ; his voice was like the dreams of 
 the hill. Why reigneth alone, he cries, 
 the fon of the mighty Corval ? Fingal is 
 not ftrong to fave : he is no fupport for 
 the people. I am ftrong as a ilorm in 
 the ocean ; as a whirlwind on the hill. 
 Yield, fon of Corval ; Fingal, yield to 
 me. 
 
 OSCUR
 
 OSCUR flood forth to meet him ; 
 my fon would meet the foe. But Fin- 
 gal came in his flrength, and fmiled at 
 the vaunter's boaft. They threw their 
 arms round each other ; they ftruggled 
 on the plain. The earth is ploughed with 
 theirheels. Their bones crack as the boat 
 on the ocean, when it leaps from wave to 
 wave. Long did.they toil ; with night, 
 they fell on the founding plain ; as two 
 oaks, with their branches mingled, fall 
 crafhing from the hill. The tall fon 
 of Morny is bound ; the aged over- 
 came. 
 
 FAIR with her locks of gold, her 
 fmooth neck, and her breafts of fnow ; 
 fair, as the fpirits of the hill when at 
 filent noon they glide along the heath 5 
 fair, as the rain-bow of heaven ; came 
 Minvane the maid. Fingal! fhe foft- 
 ly faith, loofe me my brother Gaul. 
 Loofe me the hope of my race, the ter- 
 ror
 
 t 40 ] 
 
 ror of all but Fingal. Can I, replies the 
 King, can I deny the lovely daughter 
 of the hill ? take thy brother, O Min- 
 vane, thou fairer than the fnow of the 
 north I 
 
 SUCH, Fingal! were thy words ; but 
 thy words I hear no more. Sightlefs 
 I fit by thy tomb. I hear the wind in 
 the wood ; but no more I hear my 
 friends. The cry of the hunter is over. 
 The voice of war is eeafed.
 
 I 41 
 
 IX. 
 
 afkeft, fair daughter of the 
 iiles ! vvhofe memory is prefer ved 
 in thefe tombs? The memory of Ron- 
 nan the bold, and Gorman the chief of 
 men ; and of her, the faireft of maids, 
 Rivine the lovely and the good. The 
 wing of tin>e is laden with care. Every 
 moment hath woes of its own. \Vhv 
 
 J 
 
 feek \ve our grief from afar ? or give our 
 tears to thoie of other times ? But thou 
 -commanded;, and I obey, O fair daugh- 
 ter of the ifles ! 
 
 CONAR was mighty in war. Caui 
 was the friend of ftrangers. His gates 
 
 o o 
 
 were open to all ; midnight darkened 
 not on his barred door. Both lived upon 
 the fons of the mountains. Their bow 
 was the fupport of the poor. 
 
 F CON NAN
 
 t -4* ] 
 
 CON NAN was the image of Conar*s 
 foul. Caul was renewed in Ronnan his 
 fon. Rivine the daughter of Conar was 
 the love of Ronnan ; her brother Con- 
 nan was his friend. She was fair as the 
 harveft-moon fetting in the feas of Mok>- 
 chafquir. Her foul was fettled on Ron- 
 nan ; the youth was the dream of her 
 nights. 
 
 RIVINE, my love! fays Ronnan, I go 
 to my king in Norway*. A year and 
 a day fhall bring me back. Wilt thou 
 be true to Ronnan ? 
 
 
 
 RONNAN ! a year and a day I will 
 fpend in forrow. .Ronnan, behaverlike 
 a man, and my foul fliall exult in thy 
 valour. Connan my friend, lays Ron- 
 nan, wilt thou prefer ve Rivine thy fi- 
 lter ? Durftan is in love with the maid ; 
 
 * Soppofed to be Fergus II. This fragment is rec- 
 koned nor altogether fo ancient as moft of the reft. 
 
 and
 
 [ 43 ] 
 
 aod foon fhall the fea bring the flran^ 
 ger to our coafl. 
 
 ifinow' 
 RQNNAN, I will defend : Do thou 
 
 fecurely go. He went. He. return- 
 ed on his day. But Durflan returned 
 before him. 
 
 GIVE me thy daughter, Conar, fays 
 Durflan ; or fear and feel my power. 
 
 HE who dares attempt my fitter, fays 
 Connan, mull meet this edge of ft eel. 
 Unerring in battle is my arm : my 
 fword, as the lightning of heaven. 
 
 RONNAN the warriour came ; and 
 much he threatened Durflan. 
 
 BUT, faith Euran the fervant of 
 gold, Ronnan ! by the gate of the north 
 ihall Durflan this night carry thy fair- 
 one away. Accurfed, anfwers Ron- 
 F 2 nan,
 
 C 44 } 
 
 nan, be this arm if death meet him not 
 there. 
 
 CONNAN ! faith Euran, this night 
 {ball the ftranger cany thy fitter away. 
 My fword (hall meet him, replies Con- 
 nan, and he fliall lie low on earth.. 
 
 TH E friends met by night, and they 
 fought. Blood and fweat ran down 
 
 O 
 
 their limbs as water on the mofly rock* 
 Connan falls; and cries, O Durftan, 
 be favourable to Rivine ! And is it my 
 friend, cries Ronnan, I have {lain ? O 
 Connan ! I knew thee not. 
 
 HE went, and he fought with Dur- 
 ftan. Day began to rife on the com- 
 bat, when fainting they fell, and expi- 
 red. Ri-vine came out with the morn ; 
 
 and O what detains. my Ronnan! 
 
 She faw him lying pale in his blood ; 
 and her brother lying pale by his fide. 
 
 What
 
 [ 43 ] 
 
 What could flic fay ? what could fhe 
 do ? her complaints were many and vain. 
 She opened this grave for the warri- 
 ours ; and fell into it herfelf, before it 
 was clofcd ; like the fun fnatched away 
 m a ftorm. 
 
 THOU haft heard this tale of grief, 
 O fair daughter of the iiles ! Rivine was 
 fair as thyfcif : fhed on her grave a 
 tear.
 
 X. 
 
 T T is night ; and I am alone, forlorn 
 on the hill of ftorms. The wind is 
 heard in the mountain. The torrent 
 fhrieks down the rock. No hut receives 
 me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill of 
 winds. 
 
 RISE, moonf from behind thy 
 clouds; flars of the night, appear! 
 Lead me, fome light, to the place where 
 my love refts from the toil of the chace! 
 his bow near him, unflrung ; his dogs 
 panting around him. But here I mud 
 fit alone, by the rock of the mofly 
 dream. The flream and the wind 
 roar ; nor can I hear the voice of my 
 love. 
 
 WHY delayeth my Shalgar, why the 
 fon of the hill, his promife ? Here is 
 
 the
 
 I 47 ] 
 
 the rock ; and the tree ; and here the 
 roaring ftream. Thou promifedft with 
 night to be here. Ah ! whither is my 
 'Shalgar gone ? With thee I would fly 
 my father; with thee, my brother of 
 pride. Our race have long been -foes; 
 but we are not foes, O Shalgar ! 
 
 CE ASE a little while, O wind ! dream, 
 be thou filent a while! let my voice be 
 heard over the heath ; let my wanderer 
 'hear me. Shalgar ! it is I who call. Here 
 is the tree, and the rock. Shalgar, my 
 love! I am here. Why delayed thou 
 
 thy coming ? Alas ! no anfwer. 
 Jlam I 
 
 Lo ! the moon appeareth. The 
 flood is bright in the vale. The rocks 
 are grey on the face of the hill. But 
 I fee him not on the brow; his dogs 
 before him tell not that he is coming. 
 Here I muft fit alone. 
 
 BUT
 
 .BuT who are thefe that lie beyond 
 me on the heath? Arc they ray love 
 and my brother ? Speak to me, O my 
 friends ! they anfwcr not. My ibul is 
 tormented with fears. Ah ! they are 
 
 dead. Their fwords are red from the 
 
 
 
 fight. O my brother ! my brother ! 
 why haft thou {lain my Shalgar ? why, 
 O Shalgar ! haft thou {lain my brother? 
 Dear were ye both to me ! fpeak to me; 
 hear my voice, fons of my love ! But 
 alas! they are filent ; filcnt for ever I 
 Cold are their breads of clay ! 
 
 OH! from the rock of -the hill-, 
 
 . from the top of the mountain of winds, 
 
 fpeak ye ghofts of the dead ! fpeak, 
 
 and I will not be afraid. Whither 
 
 are ye gone to reft ? In what cave of 
 the hill (ball I find you ? 
 
 I {it in my grief. I wait for morn- 
 ing in my tears. Rear the tomb, ye 
 
 friends
 
 r 49 ] 
 
 friends of the dead ; but clofe it not 
 till I come. My fife flieth away like a 
 dream : why (hould I flay behind ? 
 Here fhall I reft with my friends by the 
 ftream of the founding rock. When 
 night conies on the hill - r when the wind 
 is upon the heath ; my ghoft fhall (land 
 in the wind, and mourn the death of 
 my friends. The hunter (ball hear 
 from his booth. He (hall fear, but 
 love my voice. For fweet (hall my voice 
 be for my friends ; for pleafant \vcre 
 they both to me. 
 
 G
 
 [ 50 ] 
 
 XL 
 
 ! I am fad indeed : nor final! my 
 eaufe of woe! Kirmor, thou haft 
 loft no fon 3 thou haft loft no daugh- 
 ter of beauty. Connar the valiant lives 3, 
 and Annir the faireft of maids. The 
 boughs of thy family flour ifh, O Kir- 
 mor! but Armyn is the laft of his< 
 
 race. 
 
 RISE, wind's of autumn, rife 5. blow 
 tipon the dark heath ! ftreams of the 
 mountains, roar! howl, ye tempefts,. 
 in the trees! walk through broken 
 clouds, O moon! fhow by intervals thy. 
 pale face !.. bring to my mind that fad 
 night,, when all my children fell j when 
 Arindei the mighty fell j when Daura 
 
 the lovely died. 
 
 * 
 
 A, my daughter.!, thou wert
 
 [ 5* ] 
 
 fair; fair as the moon on the lulls tC 
 Jura ; white as the driven fnow; fweet as 
 -the breathing gale. Armor -renowned in 
 war came, and fought Daura's love ; he 
 was not long denied >; fair was the hope 
 of their friends. 
 
 - 
 EARCH fon of Odgal repined j for 
 
 his brother was (lain by Armor. He 
 came difguifed like a fon of the fea : 
 fair was his ikiff on the wave; white 
 his locks of age ; calm his ferious brow. 
 Faireil of women, he faid, lovely daugh- 
 ter of Armyn ! a rock not diftant in 
 the fea, bears a tree on its fide; red 
 fhines the fruit afar. There Armor 
 waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch 
 his love. Come, fair daughter of Ar- 
 
 ft3 
 
 'SHE went ; and fhe called on Armor. 
 Nought anfwered, but the fon of the 
 
 o 
 
 rock. Armor, my love! my love \ 
 J G 2 why
 
 [ 52 ] 
 
 why tormented: thou me with fear? 
 come, graceful fon of Ardnart, come; 
 it is Daura who calleth thee ! Earch 
 the .traitor fled laughing to the land. 
 She lifted up her voice, and cried for 
 her brother and her father. Arindel i 
 Armyn.! none to relieve your Daura? 
 
 "HER voice came over the fea. Arin- 
 del my fon defcended from the hill ; 
 rough in the fpoils of the chace. His 
 arrows rattled by his -fide ; his bow was 
 in his hand ; five grey dogs attended 
 his fleps. He faw fierce Earch on the 
 Ihore ; he feized'and bound him to an 
 oak. Thick fly the thongs of the hide 
 around his limbs ; he loads the wind 
 with 'his groans. 
 
 ARINDEL afcends the furgy deep in 
 his boat, to bring Daura to the land. 
 Armor came in his wrath, and let fly 
 the grey-feathered {haft. It fimg; it 
 
 funk
 
 [ 53. ] 
 
 funk in thy heart, O Arindel my fon! 
 for Earch the traitor thou diedft. What 
 is thy grief, O Daura, when round 
 thy feet is poured thy brother's blood ! 
 
 THE boat is broken in twain by the 
 waves. Armor plunges into the fea, to 
 refcue his Daura or die. Sudden a blail 
 from the hill comes over the waves, 
 -He funk, and he rofe no more. 
 
 ALONE, on the fea-beat rock, my 
 daughter was heard to complain. Fre- 
 quent and loud were her cries; nor 
 could her father relieve her. All 
 night I flood on the fliore. All night I 
 heard her cries. Loud was the wind ; 
 and the rain beat hard on the fide of the 
 mountain. Before morning appeared, 
 her voice was weak. It died away, like 
 the evening-breeze among the grafs of 
 the rocks. Spent with grief fhe expired. 
 O lay me foon by her fide. 
 
 WHEN
 
 [ 54 ) 
 
 WHEN the dorms of the mountain 
 come ; when the north lifts the waves 
 -on high ; I fit by the founding fhore, 
 and look on the fatal rock. Often by 
 -the fetting moon I fee the ghofts of 
 my children. -Indiftindt, they walk in 
 mournful conference together. Will 
 none of you fpeak to me ? But they 
 do not regard their father. 
 

 
 [ 55 ] 
 
 XII. 
 R Y N. O, ALPIN. 
 
 RY N a. 
 
 THE wind and the rain are over:: 
 calm is the noon of clay. The 
 clouds are divided in heaven. Over. 
 the green hills flies the inconflant fun. 
 Red through the ftony vaJe comes- 
 down the ft ream- of the hill. Sweet are 
 thy murmurs, O dream ! but more 
 fweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice 
 of Alpin the fon of the fong,, mourning 
 for the dead. Bent is his head of age, 
 and red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou. 
 fon of the fong,, why alone on the fi- 
 lent hill? why complained thou r as a 
 blaft in the wood y as a wave on the 
 lonely fhore ? 
 
 ALP IN,.
 
 [ 56 ] 
 
 A L P I N. 
 
 MY tears, O Ryno ! are for the dead; 
 my voice, for the inhabitants of the 
 grave. Tall thou art on the hill ; fair 
 among the fons of the plain. But thou 
 fhalt fall like Morar ; and the mourner 
 fhalt fit on thy tomb. The hills fhall 
 know thee no more j thy bow fhall lie in 
 the hall, unflrung. 
 
 THOU wert fwift, O Morar! as a 
 roe on the hill ; terrible as a meteor of 
 fire. Thy wrath was as the ftorm of 
 December. Thy fword in battle, as 
 lightning in the field. Thy voice was 
 like a {Iream after rain -, like thunder 
 on diftant hills. Many fell by thy 
 arm ; they were confumed in the flames 
 of thy wrath. 
 
 BUT when thou returnedfl from war, 
 
 how
 
 [ 57 1 
 
 how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face 
 was like the fan after rain ; like the 
 moon in the {Hence of night ; calm as 
 the bread of the lake when the loud 
 wind is laid. 
 
 NARROW is thy dwelling now ; dark 
 the place of thine abode. With three 
 fteps I compafs thy grave, O thou who 
 waft fo great before ! Four ftones with 
 their heads of mofs are the only memo- 
 rial of thee. A tree with fcarce a leaf, 
 long grafs which whiftles in the wind, 
 mark to the hunter's eye the grave of 
 the mighty Morar. Morar ! thou art 
 low indeed. Thou haft no mother to 
 mourn thee ; no maid with her tears of 
 love. Dead is fhe that brought thee 
 forth. Fallen is the daughter of Mor- 
 
 o 
 
 glan. 
 
 W T HO on his ftaff is this ? who is this, 
 whofe head is white with 32;e. whole 
 
 O ' 
 
 H eyes
 
 [ 58 ] 
 
 eyes are red with tears, who quakes 
 at every ftep ? It is thy father, O 
 Morar ! the father of none but thee. 
 lie heard of thy famein battle j he heard 
 of foes difperied. He heard of Morar 6 
 fame ; why did he not hear of his 
 wound ? \Yeep, thou father of Morar ! 
 weep; but thy fon heareth thee not. 
 Deep is the deep of the dead ; low their 
 pillow of dud. No more (hall he hear 
 thy voice j no more (hall. he awake at 
 thy call. \Vhe (hall it be morn in the 
 grave, to bid the (lumberer awake ? 
 
 FAREWELL, thou bra veil of men I 
 thou conqueror in the field ! but the field 
 ihall fee thee no more; nor the dark 
 wood be lightened with the fplendor of 
 thy ft eel. Thou haft left no fon. 
 But the fong ihall prefer ve thy name. 
 Future times ihall hear of thee ; they 
 ihall hear of the fallen Morar. 
 
 XIII.
 
 [ 59 J 
 XIII *. 
 
 /^UCHULAID fat by the wall ; by the 
 tree of the milling leaff,. 'His 
 fpear leaned againft the mofly rock. 
 His fhield lay by him on the gralk 
 Whilft he thought on the mighty Car.bre 
 whom he flew in battle, the fcout of 
 the ocean came,.. Moran the fon of Fi- 
 thil. 
 
 RISE, Cuchiilaid, rife ! I fee the fhip.-; 
 of Garve. Many are the foe, Cuchulaid ; 
 many the fons of Lochlyn. 
 
 MORAN ! thou ever trembled ; thy 
 fears increafe the foe. They are the 
 (hips of the Defert of hills arrived to af- 
 fifl Cuchulaid. 
 
 * This is the opening of the epic poem men tinned 
 in the preface. The two following fr.igmcr.ts are yarts 
 of fome epifodes of the fame work. 
 
 f The afpen or poplar tree. 
 
 H 2 F
 
 [ 60 ] 
 
 I faw their chief, fays Moran, tall as 
 a rock of ice. His fpcar is like that fir; 
 his fhield like the rifing moon. He fat 
 upon a rock on the ihore, as a grey 
 cloud upon the hill. Many, mighty 
 man ! I faid, many are our heroes ; 
 Garve, well art thou named *, many 
 are the fons of our kin. 
 
 vJ 
 
 HE anfvvered like a wave on the 
 rock ; who is like me here ? The va- 
 liant live not with mej they go to the 
 earth from my hand. The king of the 
 Defcrt of hills alone can fight with 
 
 o 
 
 Garve. Once we wreftlecl on the hill. 
 Our heels overturned the wood. Rocks 
 fell from their place, and rivulets chan- 
 ged their courfe. Three days we ft rove 
 together ; heroes flood at a diftance, 
 and feared. On the fourth, the King 
 faith that I fell ; but Garve faith, he 
 
 e Garve figr.lfies a man cf great fize, 
 
 ftood.
 
 [ 6, J 
 
 Hood. Let Cuchulaid yield to him that 
 is ftrong as a (torm. 
 
 No. I will never yield to man. 
 Cuchulaid will conquer or die. Go, 
 Moran, take my fpear ; flrike the fhield 
 of Caithbait which hangs before the 
 gate. It never rings in peace. My he- 
 roes (hall hear on the hill.
 
 [ 62 ] 
 
 XIV. 
 DUCHOMM AR, MORNA, 
 
 DUCHOMMAR. 
 
 * \ TORN A, thou faired of women, 
 -L V JL daughter of Cormac-Carbre ! 
 why in the circle of (tones, in the cave 
 of the rock, alone ? The flream mur- 
 mureth hoarfeiy. The blafl groaneth 
 in the aged tree. The lake is troubled 
 before thee. Dark are the clouds of 
 the fky. But thou art like fnow on 
 the heath. Thy hair like a thin cloud 
 of gold on the top of Cromleach. Thy 
 
 * The fignification of the names in this fragment 
 are ; Dubiichomar, a black wel!-fliaped man. Mnime 
 or M >rna, a woman beloved by all. Cormac-cairbre, 
 an unequalled and rough warricur. Cromleach, a 
 crooked hill. Mugruch, a furly gloomy man. 
 Tarman, thunder. Moinie, foft in temper and per- 
 fon.. 
 
 breads
 
 t 63 ] 
 
 breads like two fmooth rocks on the hill 
 which is feen from the ftream of Bran- 
 nuin. Thy arms, as two white pillars 
 in the hall of Fingal. 
 
 M O R N A. 
 
 WHENCE the fon of Mugruch, Du- 
 chommarthemofl gloomy of men? Dark 
 are thy brows of terror. Red thy roll- 
 ing eyes. Does Garve appear on the 
 iea ? What of the foe, Duchommar? 
 
 DUCHOMMAR. 
 
 FROM the hill I return, O Morna, 
 from the hill of the flying deer. Three 
 have I flain with my bow j three with 
 my panting dogs. Daughter of Cor- 
 mac-Carbre, I love thee as my foul. I 
 have flain a deer for thee. High was 
 his branchy head ; and fleet his feet of 
 wind. 
 
 MORNA.
 
 t 64 ] 
 
 MORN A. 
 GLOOMY fon of Mumruch, Duchom- 
 
 o * 
 
 mar ! I love thee not : hard is thy heart 
 of rock ; dark thy terrible brow. But 
 Cadmor the fon of Tarman, thou art 
 the love of Morna ! thou art like a fun- 
 beam on the hill, in the day of the 
 gloomy florm. Sawed thou the fon of 
 Tarman, lovely on the hill of the chace ? 
 Here the daughter of Cormac-Carbre 
 waiteth the coming of Cadmor. 
 
 ^j 
 
 DUCHOM MAR. 
 
 AND long (hall Morna wait. His 
 blood is on my fword. I met him by 
 the mofly (lone, by the oak of the noify 
 ftream. He fought ; but I flew him ; 
 his blood is on my fword. High on 
 the hill I will raife his tomb, daughter 
 of Cormac-Carbre. But love thou the 
 
 fon
 
 fon of Mugruch ; his arm is ilrong as a 
 ftornu 
 
 MOR N A. 
 
 AND is the fon of Tarman fallen ; 
 the youth with the breaft of fnow ! the 
 firft in the chase of the hill ; the foe 
 of the fons of the ocean L Duchom- 
 mar, thou art gloomy indeed 3 cruel is 
 
 thy arm to me. But give me that 
 
 fvvord, fon of Mugruch ; I love the 
 blood of Cadmor. 
 
 [HE gives her the fword, with which, 
 Ihe inftantly ftabs him.]. 
 
 Due HOMM A R. 
 
 DAUGHTER of Corraac-Carbre, thou 
 
 haft pierced Duchommar ! the fword is 
 
 cold in my breaft ; thou haft killed the 
 
 fon of Mugruch. Give me to Moitiie 
 
 I the
 
 I 66 ] 
 
 the maid; for much flie loved Duchoni- 
 mar. My tomb fhe will raife on the 
 hill ; the hunter fhall fee it, and praife 
 
 me. But draw the fword from my 
 
 fide, Morna 5 I feel it cold. 
 
 [UPON her coming near him, he (tabs 
 her. As flie fell, fhe plucked a {tone, 
 from the fide of the cave, and placed it 
 betwixt them, that his blood might not 
 be mingled with hers.]
 
 XV. 
 
 *TX7HERE is GealchofTa my love, the 
 daughter of Tuathal-Teachvar ? 
 I left her in the hall of the plain, when I 
 fought with the hairy Ulfadha. Re- 
 turn foon, {he faid, O Lamderg'! for 
 here I wait in forrow. Her white bread 
 rofe with iighs j her cheek was wet 
 with tears. But {he cometh not to meet 
 Lamderg ; or footh his foul after battle. 
 Silent is the hall of joy ; I hear not 
 the voice of the finger. Brann does 
 not fhake his chains at the gate, glad 
 at the coming of his mailer. Where 
 is GealchofTa my love, the daughter of 
 Tuathal-Teachvar ? 
 
 * The fignification of the names in this fragment are; 
 Gealchoflack, white-legged. Tuathal-Teachtmhar, 
 the fur'y, but fortunate man. Lambhdearg, bloody- 
 hand. Ulfadha, long beard. Firchios, the conque- 
 ror of men. 
 
 I 2 LA'MDERC : !
 
 [ 68 ] 
 
 L AMD ERG ! fays Firchios fon of Ay- 
 -don, Gealchoflfa -may be on the hill ; 
 Ihe and her chofen maids purfuing the 
 flying deer. 
 
 FIRCHIOS ! no noife I hear. No 
 found in the wood of the hill. No 
 deer fly in my fight; no panting dog 
 purfueth. I fee not GealchofTa my 
 Jove; fair as the full moon fetting on 
 the hills of Cromleach. Go, Firchios ! 
 go to Allad *, the grey-haired fon of 
 the rock. He liveth in the circle of 
 flones ; he may tell of G.ealchoiTa. 
 
 ALLAD! faith Firchios, thou who 
 .dwelled in the rock ; thou who trem- 
 bled alone ; what faw thine eyes of 
 age? 
 
 I faw, anfwered Allad the old, Ul- 
 
 * Allad is plainly a Druid confulted on this oeca- 
 4Ion. 
 
 I'm
 
 f 69 ] 
 
 lin the fon of Carbre : He came like a 
 cloud from the hill; he hummed a fur- 
 Jy fong as he came, like a ftorm in 
 leaflefs wood. He entered the hall of 
 the plain. Lamderg, he cried, moft 
 dreadful of men ! fight, or yield to Ul- 
 lin. Lamderg, replied Gealchofla, 
 Lamderg is not here : he fights the 
 hairy Ulfadha ; mighty man, he is not 
 here. But Lamderg never yields ; he 
 will fight the fon of Carbre. Lovely art 
 thou, O daughter of Tuathal-Teach- 
 var! faid Uliin. I carry thee to the 
 houfe of Carbre ; the valiant fhall have 
 Gealchofla. Three days from the top 
 of Cromleach will I call Lamderg to 
 fight. The fourth, you belong to Ul- 
 lin, if Lamderg die, or fly my fword. 
 
 ALXAD! peace to thy dreams! 
 found the horn, Firchiosl Ullin may 
 hear, and meet me on the top of Crom- 
 leach. 
 
 LAMDERG
 
 LAMDERG rufhed on like a florro, 
 On his fpear he leaped over rivers. Few 
 were his ftrides up the hill. The rocks 
 fly back from his heels ; loud crashing 
 they bound to the plain. His armour, 
 his buckler rung. He hummed a furly 
 ibng, like the noife of the falling 
 dream. Dark as a cloud he flood a- 
 bove j his arms, like meteors, fhone. 
 From the fummit of the hill, he rolled 
 a rock. Ullin heard in the hall of 
 Carbre. 
 
 F I N I S.
 
 O 
 
 MONEY, CIRCULATION, 
 
 PAPER CURRENCY; 
 
 EDINBURGH! 
 Crimed by HAMILTON, BALFOUR. and NE ILL.
 
 HO U O H T 

 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 'T"*H E Writer of the Inquiry into the Origin and 
 Conferences of the Public Debt> having been 
 aflured that he has been quoted in a large book 
 lately publifhed, as Author of two Effays on 
 Banking and Frugality, on no better authority than 
 that of a needy Bookfeller's reprinting the Inquiry 
 along with them ; he thinks himfelf obliged to 
 afTure the Public, That he knows nothing of the 
 two EJJays on Banking and Frugality annexed to his; 
 that he had no hand in them, and is equally igno- 
 rant where, and by whom they were written or 
 printed. 
 
 He acknowledges, he had felf- conceit enough to 
 think it utterly impoflible, that any man could be 
 found fo thoroughly void of difcernment, as to 
 imagine thefe three Productions could come from 
 the fame hand : but, fince the event has proved 
 that there may be fuch men, he has thought it 
 neceflary to offer to the Public his fentiments on 
 Money and Circulation ; which, however little in 
 flrucling or entertaining, will at lead prove, that 
 his opinions on thefe fubjefts are extremely diffe- 
 B rent
 
 C 4 3 
 
 rent From thofe imputed to him, by fuch as would 
 afcribe to him the two Ejfays on Banking and Fru- 
 gality. 
 
 He likewife begs leave to affure the Public, That 
 it is not to avoid the imputation of a bad Writer 
 that he appeals to them ; that imputation would 
 give him Ittle concern : his real motive is to 
 juftify his moral character ; fince there are opini- 
 ons afferted in the Ejfay on Frugality^ which- he 
 holds in deteftatioa.
 
 O N 
 
 MONEY AND CIRCULATION. 
 
 r >HE Value of things was originally exprefTed, 
 by fetting them againft Corn and Cattle : 
 Tfaefe have undoubtedly the greateft intrinfic va- 
 lue, as they are the mod eflential to the fupport cf 
 Life, and, next to them, Cloaths and Firing. 
 
 IN comparifon of thefe, all other things are 
 fuperfluities, and their value muft be partly arbi- 
 trary. The intrinfic value of Manufactured 
 Goods, and fuch as arife from the labour of Men, 
 is determinable by the time employed in working 
 them. If a certain piece of work mail employ a 
 Man two days, it muft bear fome proportion in its 
 value to the quantity of provifions required to 
 maintain a Man for that time. When the pra- 
 ^lice of an art is confined to a few hands, it de- 
 pends on them to put what price they pleafe on 
 their fkill ; and then, as happens in all monopolies, 
 the Purchaler being at the mercy of the Seller, 
 
 the
 
 C 6 ] 
 
 the only rule for the price, muft be the avidity 
 of the one, and the means, paffion or neceflity of 
 the other. 
 
 As Commerce came to extend itfelf, the incon- 
 venience of Barter made it as neceflary to fettle 
 fome flandard to afcertain the relative value of 
 Commodities, as to eftablifti weights and meafures, 
 to determine their quantity. Metals could not 
 fail to be found the moft proper for that purpofe ; 
 they are univerfally ufeful, and fo have an intrin- 
 fic value in themfelves : As they are the moft 
 durable of all fubftances, they are not liable to 
 fluctuate like perifhable commodities, of which 
 there may be plenty this year, and fcarcity the 
 next: They take up little compafs, and can be di- 
 vided into the fmalleft parts, and united again, 
 without diminifliing their contents. With thefe 
 advantages, they were neceflarily received as 
 Money, that is, as the meafure and flandard for 
 determining the value of commodities. 
 
 I know no flronger proof of the Infancy of the 
 World, than that Metals were not in ufe as money 
 in the days of HOMER, at leaft of the Trojan 
 war: We read indeed, that ABRAHAM purchafed 
 
 his
 
 t 7 ] 
 
 his father's fepulcher with fliekles of Silver, and 
 they were the money of Egypt in the days of JO- 
 SEPH. 
 
 THE rule for fettling the reciprocal value of 
 metals and provifions, would be to pay a Man for 
 his labour, the quantity of metal that was pur- 
 chafeable by the Corn he was in ufe to earn*. The 
 metal was only confidered as an equivalent for his 
 former wages, or as a ticket to reprefent them ; 
 and tho' the perfon who received it, might have 
 no occafion for it as a metal ; yet he confidered it 
 as a pledge and fecurity for the things it was given 
 in lieu of, with this advantage, that he might, at 
 any time, exchange any part of it, againft a pro- 
 portionable quantity of the things he received it 
 for, or difpofe of it otherwife at his option. The 
 conveniencies attending this method of payment 
 foon made it univerfal , and Barter, and payments 
 in kind, fell into difufe. 
 
 THUS metals were received as money, by mu- 
 tual confent, becaufe of their intrinfic value as 
 commodities : without that intrinfic value, they 
 never could have been admitted as an equivalent 
 
 for 
 
 * It is the cuftom in many countries at this day, to hire 
 Servants by agreeing for a certain quantity of Corn fer an- 
 tium,
 
 t 8 ] 
 
 for other commodities, or as the meafure 
 taining their value, 
 
 THE proportion different metals bear to each o* 
 ther being liable to alter, it became expedient to 
 flngle out one in particular for the imiverfal ftan- 
 dard : Silver has obtained that privilege, and is 
 to be confidered in a twofold light ; Firft^ as a 
 Commodity, and metal, applicable to many ufes : 
 Secondly i as Money, or the meafure of com- 
 merce. 
 
 As a Commodity, its value is in proportion to 
 its ufe and fcarcky. 
 
 As Money, it has no intrinfic value in itfelf ; 
 tbe value is in the things purchafeable by it ; and 
 is only a general letter of credit, payable to the 
 bearer for goods to a certain amount, or an uni- 
 verfal ticket that gives the owner an option to 
 polTefs whatever he cbufes to a certain extent. In- 
 this fenfe, it is no more than the figure or chara> 
 <rer that reprefents the things it can procure. 
 
 MOST Nations have fome time or other fallen 
 into the miitake, of fancying it poffible-to confine 
 it to its particular ufc as money, and, after put- 
 ting a (tamp upon it, have forbid the melting it 
 down or fending it abroad, under the feYereft pe- 
 nalties,
 
 I 9 I 
 
 fealties, forgetting that it owes its being received 
 as money, to its value as a commodity ; and if 
 they were to fucceed in taking that quality from 
 it, or, which is the fame thing, in making it im* 
 poflible to employ it that way, it would no longer 
 be received as an equivalent for other commodi- 
 ties. 
 
 THE fame miftake has given occafion to many 
 falfe fchemes for (applying and, multiplying its ufe 
 by artificial means ; but all fuch ever have, and 
 ever will prove abortive, unlefs fo far as they leave 
 an option to receive the full fum in real cafh. 
 
 Bank Bills, and all Credit, are to Money, 
 what Money is to other Commodities. 
 
 THE value of the Bills confift in the power they 
 give of receiving the Money they exprefs, and 
 prefuppofe tlie Money to be depofited. The va- 
 lue of Money confifts in the power of purchafing 
 Commodities. 
 
 IT is amazing that every Nation, whofe hiftory 
 we are acquainted with, has at different times, 
 and without feeming to have borrowed or taken 
 warning from one another, fallen into the miftake 
 of attempting to increafe Money, by augmenting 
 the denomination of i$ 
 
 As
 
 As Money could only be meafured by weight 
 and finenefs, it was found neceflary to put a public 
 ftamp on it ; the meaning of which was, to facili- 
 tate circulation, by afcertaining both. 
 
 IN time, people came to miftake the effecl for 
 the caufe ; and, inflead of perceiving that it was 
 the fubftance gave credit to the ftamp, they ima- 
 gined it owed its currency to the ftamp alone, 
 and were weak enough to fancy they could multi- 
 ply it, by clapping a fimilar ftamp, and giving 
 the fame name to a lefs quantity of Silver. This 
 was juft as abfurd, as it would be in a Man to 
 imagine he could make himfelf three fuits of cloaths 
 out of the materials for two, by breaking off one 
 third from the yard he made ufe of to meafure 
 them. 
 
 THIS experiment muft have deftroyed all credit, 
 rnuft have given ftrangers a vaft advantage, by 
 buying up goods for lefs than their value j as it 
 would increafe the exchange in their favour in 
 proportion to the augmentation made in the de- 
 nomination. It muft have diminifhed every Man's 
 income, and robbed every creditor of the part 
 taken away from the former money. 
 
 ORIGINALLY,
 
 C ii 3 
 
 ORIGINALLY, a Pound Sterling really weighed 
 1 2 ounces, and only 20 Shillings, or, which is the 
 fame, 60 Groats were coined out of the pound 
 of Silver. It was imagined, that, by coining 30 
 pieces out of the fame quantity of Silver, and 
 {till calling them Shillings, and obliging people to 
 receive them as fuch, the Specie might be increafed 
 from 20 to 30. The neceflary confequence o 
 this was, that he who had lent 30 Shillings be- 
 fore the augmentation, and had really delivered a 
 quantity of Silver weighing one pound and an half^ 
 was now obliged to accept of one pound weight 
 only, in full for his debt j fince, by the new re- 
 gulation, one pound of Silver was fuppofed to 
 have obtained the privilege of having the effect, 
 one and an half had before. 
 
 EVERY man to whom any thing was due* 
 whether Landlord or Creditor, would fuffer this 
 injuftice, and even the Sovereign himfelf would 
 feel it in his Revenue, 
 
 OBVIOUS as thefe inconveniencies feem to be, 
 every Nation in Europe has in its turn fallen into 
 the error, and one country can only reproach an- 
 other with the degrees of it. The denomination 
 
 C of
 
 C 12 3 
 
 of money through all Europe, by Pounds, Shil- 
 lings, and Pence, demonftrates that it pafled o- 
 riginaHy by weight ; tho' in France, it now take* 
 above 70 Livres or Pounds, to purchafe the 
 quantity of Silver that formerly made but one LN 
 vre or Pound. PLINY tells us, that the Romans- 
 had recourfe to this method of endeavouring to 
 augment their Specie in the diftrefs of the firft 
 Punic war, and repeated it afterwards. It might 
 anfwer as a momentary expedient among an igno- 
 rant people, utterly unacquainted with Trade, 
 for fuch the Romans were at that time ; but never 
 was put in practice fince, but to the great detri- 
 ment of the people among whom it was introdu- 
 ced. 
 
 THIS traffic with Money, has been more 
 jfraclifed in France than in any other country, parti- 
 cularly in the latter part of the reign of Lewis XIV. 
 and during the minority of the prefent King. 
 It was commonly faid of the firft of thefe Monarchy 
 that when he had money to pay, he called it up, 
 and when he had money to receive, he called it 
 down; but as both methods are deftructive to the 
 Subjeft, they could never be for the intereft of 
 
 the
 
 t 13 3 
 
 the King. The misfortunes of the latter part of 
 that Prince's reign, may be eafily accounted for 
 from that very practice ; and it will be found, 
 on due inquiry, that the falling off of Allies 
 and the lofs of battles, was the effect, and 
 not the caufe of the miferable condition France 
 was reduced to, by the ruin which the alterations 
 in the coin, brought on its Finances *. 
 
 AN augmentation of the denomination of Money, 
 is jufl fuch a mean fraud in Government, as deceit 
 in weights and meafures is in trade, and muft a- 
 iike end in the ruin and difgrace of thofe who 
 attempt it. 
 
 WHEN an augmentation has once taken place, 
 'tis in vain to think of remedying it by calling 
 the money down again ; 'tis what cannot be done 
 without a new injuilice ; for the Debtor in that- 
 cafe fufftT.s as much as the Creditor did before. 
 The only remedy is, time and patience, joined 
 to an aifurance that the denomination mail never 
 
 be 
 
 * PETER the Great, Czar of Mufcovy, fell into the fame 
 miftake, and, notwithftanding the mighty things he did for 
 his country in other refpefts, he left it drained of money, 
 and his revenue reduced to lefs than half of what he found 
 
 it. 1 think from 4,000,000 Rubles at 6 Shillings per 
 
 Ruble, to 10,000,000 at z s, per Ruble.
 
 C H ] 
 
 be altered for the future. 'Every wife .Govern > 
 ment will leave the denomination of money as 
 they found it, and will be perfuaded that it is with 
 Money as with Religion, where there is no tam- 
 pering without confounding every thing. 
 
 IN England no alterations have been made in 
 the coin fmce Queen ELIZABETH'S time; and as 
 that fubjecl feems to have been throughly under-, 
 flood here ever fince that period, it is hard to 
 conceive, how our Plantations, and even the 
 kingdom of Ireland, have been fuffered to deceive 
 themfelves, by augmenting the denomination of 
 their money, unlefs it has been with a political 
 intent, to keep them poor, and by that means 
 to excite industry, and fecure dependency. 
 
 THE inconveniency of Barter gave occafion to 
 the invention of Money, and the difficulty of 
 tranfporting money from one country to another 
 
 made way for Bills of Exchange. In the courfe 
 
 of Trade, it would often happen, that the fame 
 Merchant would have money to pay to one Man 
 and to receive from another in the fame foreign 
 country : This would naturally lead him to pro- 
 ppfe to pay the one by the other ; and when he 
 
 had
 
 r 1-5 '] 
 
 had nothing due to himfelf, he would look out 
 for an acquaintance that had ; by this expedient 
 both parties would fave the expence and rifk of 
 fending their money from the one -country to the 
 other. But as Trade can never be fo entirely on 
 a par, but there muft be a balance ; whatever 
 country the balance' is due to, will have the 
 Exchange in its favour, *. e. fome allowance 
 will be made on account of the rifle and trouble 
 
 of fending the balance abroad in Specie : That 
 
 allowance can never exceed the expence and rifle 
 
 of the tranfportation of it. If all Nations had 
 
 agreed to flick to the original method of de- 
 nominating their money by the quantity of pure 
 Silver it contained, nothing could be fo fimple as 
 Exchange ; but the different alterations every 
 Nation has made in fmenefs, and denomination, 
 have made it a Science to determine the propor- 
 tion the coin of one country bears to that of an- 
 other ; but the whole of that Science muft confift 
 in the knowledge of the quantity of Silver each 
 coin contains ; for in Exchange between Nation 
 and Nation, Money will ever be confidered as 
 bullion ; nothing will be thought of but the 
 
 quantity
 
 C 16 1 
 
 quantity of Silver it confifts of, nor will the 
 fmalleft regard be had, by the foreign Merchant, 
 to the denomination may be put on coin in a par- 
 ticular country. 
 
 THIS ciethod of fettling accorapts by Bills of 
 Exchange, makes money go a far greater length, 
 than if payments were actually' to be made in 
 Specie^ and fo far is a real increafe of it. If 
 Portugal takes goods to the value of 1,000,000 
 from England, and if England takes to the amount 
 of 500,000 from Portugal, it would take 
 1,500,000 to make the payments ; but by means 
 of Bills of Exchange, only the balance 500,000 
 is necelTary in money: The bills have the effect 
 of twice that fum, and make the money go 
 thrice as far as it could have done without 
 them. The real benefit received by Bills of Ex- 
 change, pointed out Banks, and Paper-Currency: 
 By means of thefe, money is increaied in propor- 
 tion to their credit ; but credit is founded on the 
 certainty of receiving payment, and prefuppofes the 
 money, or money's-worth depofited forne where, 
 and of courfe muft always bear a proportion to the 
 
 funds to anfvver it. Even the apprehenfion of 
 
 alterations
 
 C 17 1 
 
 alterations in denomination, utterly extingiriih 
 credit, fince they make it uncertain what quanti- 
 ty of Silver is to be received for a Bill. Such 
 methods then, inftead of increafing, muft redtrain 
 and confine the ufe and circulation of money to 
 its weight as bullion, and muft" deprive it of all 
 the benefit it might receive from credit. 
 
 WHETHER we had the hint of Banks from the 
 Cbinefe or not, it is impoffible to doubt that the 
 induftry and avarice of later ages, would have found 
 out fo obvious a method of fecuring money againfl 
 Thieves, and other accidents, of extending its 
 ufe, and of facilitating payments, tho' MARCO 
 PAOLO, who is faid to have brought the fecret 
 into Europe^ had never gone to Cathay. 
 
 THE benefit of National Banks to great trad- 
 ing countries is apparent ; but whether they are 
 of ufe in particular countries, which have the ba- 
 lance againft them, has been juftly difputecL If 
 a private Man have an induilrious turn, and op- 
 portunities of laying out money to advantage, 
 the greater his credit, the fooner will he grow 
 rich ; if, on the other hand, his difpofition or 
 fituation expofes him to exceed his income, by 
 
 giving
 
 C 18 3 
 
 giving him credit, you only haften his ruin. If 
 the cafh in a particular province does not exceed 
 L. 200,000 and the balance againft it is L. 10,000 
 a year; if, by eftablifhing a Bank, you triple 
 the circulation of that L. 200,000, probably the 
 balance againtl fuch a country, will be tripled at 
 the fame time, and mull be fent away in cafh. 
 
 MANKIND have a conftant tendency to miftake 
 words for things; the word Money , in its original and 
 proper fenfe, is only a relative term to exprefs the 
 value of Commodities, as much as a Tun, a Pound, 
 or a Yard, are made ufe of, to denote their quantity ; 
 but, like a ftatue in a Popifh Church, it is cor.ftantly 
 miflaken by the Vulgar, and has that worfhip be- 
 ftowed on it, which is only due to the Saint it was 
 meant to reprefent. It is in the numbers of people, 
 * the gains of that people, of which the profits 
 of the lands are to be considered as a branch, 
 that the wealth of a nation confifts ; and there- 
 fore a country may be rich, without much 
 Specie, and poor tho* abounding with Gold and 
 Silver. 
 
 IN the inventory of the wealth of a Nation, 
 the ready money is only to be confidered as bul- 
 lion,
 
 [ J9 3 
 
 lion, and a commodity : Money in the fenfe of 
 Specie, or Cam, is often a fymptom. and confe- 
 quence of wealth ; but it is not neceflarily fo, 
 and is as uncertain a proof of the riches of a Na- 
 tion, as the ready money in the pocket of a pri- 
 vate Man is of his. A certain quantity of 
 
 ready money is necefiary to carry on circulation ; 
 more than that, is of little ufe. Sir WIL- 
 LIAM PETTY jullly compares Money to the Fat 
 of the Body ; a certain degree of which is necef- 
 f.iry to lubricate the fibres, but too much of it 
 becomes a burden and magazine for difeafes. 
 
 ADMITTING then, that Paper Credit multi- 
 plies money, and more than a certain quantity of 
 money is unneceffary, neither of which propofi- 
 tions can well be denied ; how can Paper Credit be 
 of advantage ? 
 
 Both propofitiorts are in a great meafure true, 
 and yet the invention of Paper Credit is iminenfely 
 beneficial. 
 
 i/, Becaufe it makes a more convenient in* 
 
 ftrument of Barter than Cam, is more tranfportable 
 
 and expeditious, and is more fecure, which is all 
 
 in all in Commerce and great tranfactions* To 
 
 D illuftratc
 
 C 20 ] 
 
 illuftrate this, let us fuppofe a particular Nation 
 to explode the ufe of it altogether, to admit of no 
 payments but in ready money, and every man 
 bound to keep his own Calh; the inconveniency 
 attending dealing with fuch a Nation would ex- 
 clude them from many branches of profitable 
 Commerce, and their money would infenfibly 
 melt away ; for money is a bulky commodity, 
 neither tranfportable in great quantities, nor 
 eafily meafurable, and liable to adulterations, and 
 fraud. By means of payments in Paper, there is 
 little occafion to pay more than the balance due to 
 foreigners in Specie, and of courfe they facilitate 
 commerce, as much as the rules of Arithmetic a- 
 bridge accompts, or Algebra, calculations in Geo- 
 metry. 
 
 2^/y, MONEY, it is true, is only a relative 
 ferm, and Riches are not realy money, but 
 money's-worth ; yet money, in its turn, may be 
 fuppofed to contain the things purchafeable by it; 
 and as the effect of the plenty of it, is to diminilh 
 its intereft, the country that has the moft of it, 
 has an immenfe advantage, and can underfel every 
 country where intereft is high *. 
 
 * Vid.' CHILD on Trade.
 
 [ 21 3 
 
 THE trite maxim, That money makes 
 money, is true in a Nation as well as in a pri- 
 vate Man ; it enables a people to add to their real, 
 permanent and natural wealth : There muft be 
 more employment where there is more circula- 
 tion, and of confequence more people. Harbours 
 open, public ways extend, rivers are made navi- 
 gable, lands cultivated, drained, and manured, 
 and a country made capable of maintaining many 
 times its original number of people. This no 
 body will difpute to be real wealth, tho* it may 
 be faid, that the money which was the occafioa 
 of bringing it about, was only imaginary, 
 
 IT is a condition annexed to every thing here 
 below, That the abufe of it does mifchief jij a 
 greater degree, than the good ufe of it can be of 
 benefit. This is the cafe of money ; and as it 
 tends to effeminacy and corruption of manners, it 
 ft ill makes way for MACHIAVEL'S wheel. But 
 xhis is beyond my fubjecT:. 
 
 IT is a common opinion, that things grow 
 dear in proportion Jto the increafe of money *. 
 
 This 
 
 * What contributes to mifiead people into an opinion of 
 *Jie cheapnefs of commodities in former times, is the dif- 
 ference
 
 [ 22 ] 
 
 This opinion is contradicted by experience, and 
 is founded on falfe principles. Real and artificial 
 money have increafed at leaft twenty fold fince 
 the days of Queen ELIZABETH, and yet it will 
 be found, on inquiry, that moft untaxed things 
 have remained at the price they bore at that 
 time. 
 
 THE prices of things can never increafe, un- 
 lefs when the demand exceeds the quantity to 
 
 fupply 
 
 ference in the denomination of money. A Gold-fmith 
 would now pay L. 3. 3 s. for the identical pieces of filver 
 that conftituted a pound in the days of EDWARD III. Sir 
 HARRY SPELMAN has explained this, in his Dialogue cfCoin ; 
 and tho' he wrote late in Queen ELISABETH'S time, he af- 
 ferts, there had been no great alteration in the prices of 
 things, from the earlieft times, to thefe in which he wrote. It 
 appears by FLEETWOOD'S Table of the prices of Corn from, 
 the year 1646 to 1707, that the mean price of Wheat was 
 L. z, 10 /. per Quarter, and of Malt L. i, 7 s. 7 d. during 
 that period ; which is 20 per cent above the mean prices fince 
 that time. IVIr. HUME fays, in his Hiftory of JA^IES I's. 
 Reign, that a cargo of manufactures would coil more then, 
 than at prefent. There are A Q.S of Parliament in HENRY 
 VH's. time, fixing the rates of Commodities. Scarlet-cloth 
 was limited to 26 s. er yard, plain-cloth to i8j.; the 
 wages of Tradefmen, fuch as a Bricklayer, Mafon, Tny~ 
 Jpr, were regulated at 10 d. our prefent money.
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
 fupply it. Was there never fo much money in 
 the market, if there are more Sellers than Buyers, 
 prices mull fall. Snppofing plenty of money was 
 to have a tendency to make things dear in the 
 country that enjoyed that plenty, while com- 
 merce prevails, the price of tranfportable goods 
 mud depend on the foreign market. And even 
 if we fuppofe a country quite fhut up from foreign 
 commerce, like Japan, the prices muft itill depend 
 on the confumption and the means of fupplying 
 it *. Plenty of money may make ibme delica- 
 cies and fuperfluides dearer, bccaufe as it enables 
 more individuals to afpire to them, it may increafe 
 the demand for them ; but that can only be the 
 cafe with fuch productions 'as cannot be increafed 
 by art. Game, Fifh, and fuch like, may rife 
 to an immoderate pitch ; 'tis poffible that even 
 Poultry and Butchers meat may alter their pro- 
 portion to Corn ; but where the induftry of men 
 is concerned, that will foon exert itfelf in propor- 
 tion 
 
 * In the cafe of famine in a Town befieged or cut off 
 from all communication from without, neceflaries would 
 grow dear in proportion to the plenty of money in the 
 place. I can think of no other fxtuation where this would 
 be the rule.
 
 C 24 1 
 
 tion to the demand. The plenty of provifions, and 
 of courfe the price of fuch commodities as have con? 
 neftion with that plenty, depends on Agricul- 
 ture, not on Money ; for as the poor do not aim 
 at wealth, and only want daily bread, the price 
 of their labour will not depend on plenty of 
 money, but of provifions, and the price of pro- 
 vifions will be partly regulated by the foreign 
 market. Scarcity of money, on the contrary, 
 tends to make moft things dear ; for where there 
 is little money, Agriculture will be neglected, 
 and Stock will not be raifed : Moft improvements 
 being attended with expence, they will not be at- 
 tempted; there will be no provifion made againft 
 a fcarcity from want of granaries, and from not 
 being able to lie out of one's money ; and the 
 means of procuring a fupply from abroad will be 
 wanting. 
 
 IF things were to increafe in their price in 
 proportion to the increafe of money, fuch increafe 
 would be attended with many inconveniencies, 
 and no advantage. 
 
 THE price of commodities, proves their plenty 
 or fcarcity in proportion to the demand for them, 
 
 no:
 
 [ 25 ] 
 
 not that of money : The price of money is the in* 
 tereft it bears , and the intercft of money, like the 
 price of other things, ought to rife and fall in pro- 
 portion to the demand and plenty: not that that is 
 always and neceiTarily the cafe ; for as the rich are 
 few in number, and have great opportunities of 
 joining in confederacy, and monopolizing, they 
 require a Sir Jofiah Child, or a Barnard, to re- 
 ftrain them, fo as the Public may receive fomc 
 benefit from the plenty of their commodity. 
 
 DEARNESS of Living, and dearnefs of Com- 
 modities, are extremely different. People of a 
 certain Rank muft live according to their Station, 
 and muft be determined in that, by the example 
 of others, and the cuftom of the place. 
 
 MANY places are cheap to live in where com- 
 modities are dear and fcarce ; in others, Living 
 is dear, tho ; every particular thing is cheap : 
 'Tis dearer living at Paris than at Amsterdam, tho-' 
 mod things are dearer in the latter than the for- 
 mer ; becaufe one muft drefs^ and keep an equi- 
 page to be well received at Paris, but a man 
 would not recommend himfelf by doing fo at 
 Amfterdam: So far plenty of money, by giving a 
 
 ' taftc
 
 [ 26 ] 
 
 tafle for fuperfluities, increafes the expence of 
 living, bat does not the price of commodities. 
 
 'Tis from not viewing things in this light, 
 that people are apt to confider barren and remote 
 countries as cheap. If men were to wear the fame 
 apparel, and to aim at the fame things and way of 
 living, they would find the North of Scotland 
 dearer than the City of London. 
 
 THE inundation of Money that poured itfelf 
 into Europe^ on the firfl difcovery of the IVeft- 
 Indies, could not fail to raife the price of every 
 thing. It was fudden and accidental. It found 
 us in a ftate of indolence and floth, and without 
 even the bads of that induftry and commerce that 
 conflhutes the balance, and keeps down the mar- 
 ket. It was fome time before the plenty of 
 money could have its operation. It could not in 
 a moment form Artificers, and Commodities 
 to beftow it on. Things then were fcarce in 
 proportion to the demand, and could not fail 
 to rife in their prices. The high price every 
 thing bore, fet numberlefs hands to work, and 
 foon brought down the market ; and tho* the 
 Mines of America have continued to bleed, the 
 
 induftry,
 
 induftry, and increafe of commodities they have 
 excited here, has kept pace with them, and the 
 prices have rather diminilhed than increafed from 
 the beginning of the laft century. 
 
 WHERE there is little induflry and commerce, 
 the markets muft be liable to fluctuate ; a country 
 in that ftate muft depend intirely on the favour- 
 ablenefs of Seafons for its fubfiftence* Thus we 
 read in the accounts of former times, of Corn and 
 Cattle being exceffively cheap at particular periods, 
 and extravagantly dear foon after; at prefent, that 
 commerce is grown univerfal, the whole World 
 avails itfelf of the plenty of a particular country, 
 and of its fcarcity too, by fending their fuperfluity 
 to the country that has occafion for it. Thus 
 fuch inequalities as we read of formerly, can never 
 happen in the prefent ftate of things. 
 
 THE effect of increafe of money on the price of 
 commodities, is necefTarily this ; fuch things as 
 are multiplied by art alone, become excefTively 
 cheap. This is the cafe with manufactured goods 
 of all forts 5 things that depend on nature alone 
 for their production, grow unmeafurably dear, 
 and increafe in their price as a country grows 
 E richer,
 
 C 28 3 
 
 richer, and the number of individuals who cart 
 afpire to them, augment ; this is the cafe with 
 fome fpecies of Fifh, of Game, &c. in London $ 
 Truffles in France, and Ginfeng in China. 
 
 THERE are commodities that participate of 
 both nature and art ; of this fort are Pond Fiih, 
 Poultry, and even Butchers meat ; thefe can be 
 multiplied by art : but as they are not of a na- 
 ture to be fupplied from abroad like Corn, they 
 are more liable to rife in their prices from an in- 
 creafe of money, and that in proportion as art or 
 ftature prevails in their production. 
 
 IT muft: be allowed, the wages of Day-labourers 
 and Tradefincn has increafed within thefe 60 
 years, that is, one pays more to a Bricklayer,- 
 Mufon, and Carpenter, &V. than formerly ; but 
 that increafe rather confirms than weakens my 
 "propofkion. The increafe is chiefly to be imput- 
 ed to the taxes, impofed from the public necelli- 
 ties, on all forts of people. A Day-labourer has 
 not fo much money to beftow on himfelf as in the 
 time of HENRY VII. : He muft live, and fubfiil his 
 family ; he cannot drink his beer fo cheap as he 
 did} his flioes, fire, light, foap, candles, fait, fcfr. 
 
 niuil
 
 [ 29 ] 
 
 mud pay, and, after deducting all thefe, it will 
 be found he works at leaft as cheap as in HEN- 
 RY Vli's time. 
 
 'Tis as unreafonable to afcribe the increafe in 
 the wages of Day-labourers, to the increafe of 
 money, as it would be to alTert, that it is owing 
 to that increafe, that we pay dearer for a News 
 paper, or an advertifement than before the taxes 
 on them took place. 
 
 ANOTHER circumftance that muft contribute 
 to raife the wages of Labourers, is the immenfe 
 and fudden refort to the city of London: The de- 
 mand for labour there, muft make thofe employed 
 in it fcarce, and from the principle, That nothing 
 can raife the market, but the increafe of the 'de- 
 mand in proportion to the thing wanted, there 
 is likely to be more Labour than Labourers, in a 
 City that does not fupply itfelf with people ; and 
 as the enticement of higher wages muft tempt a- 
 way people from the country, there muft be a 
 neceffity to raife the prices there in fome propor- 
 tion. 
 
 AFTER all that has been faid, the general 
 principle, That lownefs of wages gives an advart- 
 
 tage
 
 [ 3 1 
 
 tage in point of Trade and Manufacture, may be 
 difputed, and is not always true. 
 
 IT will be found, that in the places where the 
 greateft Manufactures are carried on, the wages 
 of Labourers are very high, particularly in Hol- 
 land, the cities of London, and Paris. The rea- 
 fon is, That the bell hands will always go where 
 they^can earn the higheft wages ; and there is no 
 difference in wages, not even betwixt the deareft 
 and cheapest places, equal to the difference in fkill 
 and addrefs : Thus none but the word Artificers 
 are left in the Country, while the bell crowd to 
 the town ; and there is nothing more different 
 than the wages of the Labourer, and the cheap- 
 nefs of Labour. Many branches of labour can be 
 performed by the Great, as cheap in and about: 
 London, where the wages are is. "a -day, as in the 
 Country where they do not exceed one. Bat as 
 this is a new fubjecl, and wtniid lead me into a 
 long difculfion, I only hint it. 
 
 ON the whole, if the wages of Labourers are 
 increafed, it is not to be accounted for as an im- 
 mediate cbhfequence of the incre.ife of money, 
 further than as money enables a greater number 
 
 of
 
 [ 3' ] 
 
 of people to employ Labourers, it increafes the 
 demand for Labour ; and if we take it in that 
 light, it muft increafe the number of People; for 
 Men will always multiply up to the means of fup- 
 
 porting them. Another proof that plenty of 
 
 money does not neceflarily increafe the price of 
 Labour, is from what happens in the Raft-Indies, 
 and in China : Money has been conftantly flowing 
 into thofe countries, from the earliefl times^ 
 and yet Labour is no where fo cheap. This I do 
 not build upon, fenfible of our ignorance of the 
 Police,, and Public ceconomy of thofe countries. 
 
 IT may be objected, that if vaft numbers of 
 mines mould be difcovered, Silver would grow 
 common as Lead and Iron, and of courfe would 
 become equally contemptible. It would require 
 immenfe plenty to make it univerfally common, 
 and while it remained fcarce in any confiderable 
 part of the Trading World, it would be of value 
 every where ; and if we fuppofe Agriculture and 
 NecefTaries to increafe in proportion, there is no 
 reafon why the plenty of Silver mould make 
 things dearer, fince their plenty would have an 
 equal tendency to make Silver dear with re- 
 
 fped
 
 [ 32 1 
 
 fpecl to them ; but as it was partly owing to the 
 fcarcity of Silver, that it was received as the 
 ineafure of commerce^ there can be no doubt, 
 that if it was to become too plentiful, it would 
 have the fate of Brafs amongft the Remans, 
 would ceafe to be confidered as the ineafure of 
 commerce, and would give way to fomething 
 more commodious, that conveniency would point 
 put. 
 
 THEY arc highly miftaken who would con- 
 found the Public Debts with Paper Currency \ 
 one might with equal propriety coniider Mort- 
 gages on private eftates as fuch. 
 
 FRANCE owes an enormous debt, and yet ad- 
 mits of no Paper Currency, and 'tis even a que- 
 flion if their Government is capable of it. 
 
 BY Paper Currency can only be meam% fuch 
 Bank or Bankers Bills, as carry along with them 
 a certainty that the money they exprefs is actu- 
 ally depofitcd, and can be received on demand. 
 Wherever there is the fmallelt doubt or difficulty 
 of receiving payment, they will not be accepted 
 of as money. This cannot be /aid of the Public 
 Debts, which are liable to fluctuate, and where 
 
 no
 
 [ 33 ] 
 
 no man can make a demand of his money ; but if 
 he wants to convert them into Cafli, he muft look 
 out for a purchafer. On the contrary nothing 
 threatens our Paper Currency fo much, as the in- 
 creafe of the Public Debt. The Dividends drawn 
 by Foreigners diminUh the quantity of Specie, anH 
 there muft ever be a proportion between that and 
 the Paper it gives currency to. Any national 
 diftrefs that was to occafion a diminution of the 
 funds engaged for the payment of the intereft of 
 thefe debts, would occafion Runs on Banks, and 
 hurt their Credit ; moft money'd Men depend on 
 the punctual payment of the dividend of Stocks, 
 for the return of money to anfwer their engage- 
 ments : If that fhould fail, an univerfal ftoppage 
 of payment would be the confequence. 
 
 IF we can fuppofe fuch an alarm as to create an 
 apprehension of the lofs of the Capital, Foreigners 
 would take the firft hint to fell out, and would 
 drain the Banks of all their Specie. 
 
 THE moft can be faid of the Public Debrs, 
 is, that they are money's-worth ; they canno* 
 with any propriety be called Money. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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